I stare at the glass man who has just stepped into my office.

  Well, “stepped” isn’t entirely accurate. He abruptly appeared in the doorway, brought by Blair, God of Wards. Several simultaneous thoughts pass through my mind in the span of a second.

  First, I’m rather annoyed with the cat-like god. I had agreed for her to bring a Traveler to me, but I hadn’t been able to clarify that Mirzayael and I would like a bit of time to prepare, first, before she vanished to retrieve him. To make matters worse, she had said that the Traveler would bear a remnant: strange, morally ambiguous entities that seem to live in some inanimate objects. My own remnant, the Dungeon Core, encountered one before, and that experience was rather tense, to say the least.

  On top of all that, our newest visitor is not at all what I was expecting. I don’t think it was an unreasonable assumption to have assumed they would be, well, alive. The being before me is entirely inorganic, with transparent glass hands protruding from the sleeves of a long coat, and a flash of glass beneath his collar indicating his torso is much the same. The head, however, has been replaced with an inverted prism, which floats an inch above his neck.

  I briefly wonder if this being is, in fact, the Traveler’s remnant, but Blair’s next words quickly clarify that’s not the case.

  “Fyre,” Blair says. The god’s tail swishes lazily behind her as she gestures to the glass man with a neutral expression. “I’d like for you to meet Kanin.”

  Two more figures follow Blair and Kanin through the doorway, but I don’t have an opportunity to take them in, as in the next moment the Dungeon Core weighs heavily on my mind.

  It wants to eat that thing. It wants to eat that so bad!

  I barely have enough time to react, mentally throwing myself at the Dungeon Core as it descends on Kanin. I grab hold as it lunges forward, eager and ravenous.

  The glass man erupts with shadows. They spring from every opening in his clothes—from his sleeves, his neck, the button holes. The dozens of thin, craggly limbs come to sharpened points, like branches of a corrupt tree. Mirzayael shouts something, emitting a spike of alarm, and then other people are yelling, too. I don’t have any time to take it in, because I’m still grappling with the Dungeon Core.

  It only grows more excited as Kanin’s remnant violently reacts. At least, I think what I’m seeing is a remnant. Even if it’s nothing like what I experienced with Sandro, I have no idea what else this angry swarm of shadows could be. The branches of darkness zigzag across the room like black lightning. Mirzayael leaps in front of me, her spear drawn and ready in an instant.

  “FYRE?” Ollie’s voice appears in my head, loud and scared. “WHAT’S GOING ON? ECHO SAYS YOU’RE IN DANGER!”

  Delighted that Echo agrees with my assessment of the situation.

  “Stop,” I hiss through clenched teeth, leaning back against the table as I turn all my attention inward. I don’t have the opportunity to reply to Ollie; I can’t afford to spend a single ounce of mental energy on anything else. I know I can count on Mirzayael to protect me—not that I’d know how to fend off living shadows regardless. I grimace against a mounting headache as I try to force the Dungeon Core back. “We’ve been over this.”

  It’s hardly listening. The Dungeon Core is consumed by its own hunger, only getting more excited by the prospect of a snack each second. Yet, even as it struggles to escape my grasp, I feel a growing and impending sense of doom the closer the Dungeon Core gets to clamping its will down around the glass man and his shadows. It’s dangerous. I don’t know how, as physically the Dungeon Core is back in the throne room, but instinctively, I feel something terrible will happen if the two entities come in contact.

  “FYRE?” Ollie asks again. “FYRE, ARE YOU OKAY?”

  “Give me a minute,” I send back to him, more short than I would have liked. I feel a bit bad about snapping, but I don’t have the mental capacity to be distracted right now. I shunt his connection toward Mirzayael and squeeze my eyes shut, shutting out all sources of stimuli I can manage.

  Something Shirasil once said to me about restraining the Dungeon Core returns to me then. “Its power flows through you. Don’t forget that you hold the reins,” he said. “Don’t constrain your mind to what you see: imagination has no bounds.”

  I attempt to wrap my mind around the Core, imagining myself much larger, and it much smaller. And slowly, like the focusing of a lens, it starts to work.

  The Dungeon Core notices a moment later and immediately pushes back, trying to restore its dominant presence. No! Why am I trying to stop it? All it wants is to have a snack. A very tasty snack! What’s wrong with that? I let it eat so many other things, why not this?

  I’m briefly frightened that, not only will the Dungeon Core attempt to eat the remnant, but that it might try to eat the glass man, too. The Dungeon Core can’t eat anything that’s alive. But is this person before me living? What’s stopping the Core from eating all that glass?

  Then I notice something the Dungeon Core doesn’t.

  “No!” Kanin shouts, and the room explodes with a flurry of movements.

  Mirzayael darts forward. Someone behind Kanin does the same. In a blur of motion, a metallic screech stabs through my ears.

  My heart leaps into my throat. “Stop!” I call, terrified Mirzayael had just put an end to the struggle. “Mirzayael—don’t—”

  The Dungeon Core slips through my grasp—then recoils with a hiss of distaste.

  You see? I think, exhausted. You can’t eat it. It’s been Attuned.

  Both the glass and the shadows, interestingly. I didn’t know shadows could even undergo Attunement. Yet it fills me with relief; the Dungeon Core can’t consume any material that’s been Attuned.

  The Dungeon Core exudes extreme disappointment. This isn’t fair. Why doesn’t it ever get to have the snacks it wants? It never gets to eat anything interesting.

  Slowly, dejectedly, all the fight goes out of the Core, and I quickly push the rest of its influence away. I exhale a heavy sigh, as if I’d just come up from water and am desperate for a fresh lungful of air.

  “Enough,” I say, slumping against my desk. “It’s over.”

  The shadowy limbs which have come to fill almost half the room hesitate, and then slowly recede.

  “It’s okay,” Kanin says to one of his companions. “I’ve got it under control.”

  It’s only once the shadows have faded away that Mirzayael risks taking her eyes off the threat and glancing my way.

  “Are you alright?” she asks.

  I tune Ollie back in as well. “I’m alright,” I tell them both.

  “YOU SURE?” the boy asks.

  I send him a mental hug. “Completely. Sorry to scare you. Is Echo still bothering you?”

  “OH,” he says. “NO, THE ROLE REQUIREMENT STOPPED. I GUESS THE DANGER IS GONE NOW.”

  I glance at Kanin, wondering if that’s actually the case. “For now, yes. We have some unexpected visitors. I’ll introduce you to them in a bit, and you can tell me if you think they’re dangerous.”

  I can finally feel the concern receding from Ollie’s mind, replaced with curiosity—and no small amount of pride. “NO ONE IS A DANGER TO ME.”

  I want to check his ego, but he’s closer to being right than being wrong.

  As Ollie’s mind recedes, satisfied for now, I turn my mind to Mirzayael. “I thought I was prepared for the Dungeon Core’s response, but the draw it had to this remnant is much stronger than it had been with Sandro’s.”

  “What does that mean?” she wonders.

  I can only shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  Though, secretly, I suspect this remnant is a significantly larger threat. I don’t share this concern with Mirzayael; she’s already on high alert, and mentioning this would only breed more distrust in our guests.

  Finally, I have time to take in a bit more about the new arrivals. The person Mirzayael had been engaged with was not Kanin, in fact, but a cambion, knives raised defensively and flickering with tongues of lightning. Even as I watch, the electricity goes out. Still keeping his gaze on Mirzayael, he slowly eases out of his fighting stance, retreating to Kanin’s side before sheathing his blades. He turns to Kanin with a worried look. Mirzayael finally disengages as well, falling back to my side. She doesn’t say anything else to me, but I can feel the concern and relief and anger swirling around inside her as she glances down at me with a worried look. I return it with a reassuring smile, sharing my own relief and affection.

  “Really, it’s alright,” I assure her. “The Dungeon Core won’t try that again. Actually, it can’t.”

  “It’s not the Dungeon Core I’m worried about,” she murmurs.

  I turn my attention to our new guests, Checking them each in turn, starting with the god.

  [Blair: Level 39 Felis Celestial Guard]

  Obviously the stats she’s currently showing me are bogus; I know for a fact she’s level 100, but currently she’s wearing her mortal disguise. Admittedly, the calico-cat fur looks much like her godly form, but now there’s significantly less glowing and floating going on.

  The short, teal-colored nereid is who I turn to next, and I’m surprised to find he’s her champion.

  [Aquenno: Level 46 Nereid Hallowed Guard]

  His level seems more authentic than Blair’s, yet it’s still lower than I would have expected for the mortal eyes and ears of the Heavens. I’ve only encountered one other champion, one of Yua Tin’s, and she had a level in the 80’s.

  I glance over the cambion next, expecting for him to also be a champion, but find that’s not the case.

  [Zyneth: Level 36 Cambion Rogue Artificer]

  He’s only the third cambion I’ve ever met. Like Attiru and Zetaru, he has red skin and faintly glowing yellow eyes. He’s clearly competent with those blades he sheathed at his waist, and the way he leapt into the fight led me to the initial assumption that he was some sort of bodyguard. But as I watch him lay a worried hand on the glass man’s shoulder, speaking to him in low tones, I begin to suspect I’ve misjudged their relationship.

  Finally, I look over my fellow Traveler.

  [Name: Kanin]

  [Class: Arcane Attendant]

  [Level: 29]

  [HP: 10/10]

  [Temp HP: 291]

  [Mana: 575/575]

  [Role: Homunculus]

  [Affinities: Glass, Void]

  Void—those attacks weren’t made of shadows, then. But I thought void was a type of spatial ability. How can one Attune the concept of space?

  Temp HP is a stat I haven’t seen before, but I imagine it’s similar to my Bonus Mana. The fact that his base HP is so low concerns me; he must really be as fragile as his elemental makeup would imply. And his Role certainly seems descriptive of his physical predicament—but I have to wonder how it came to be. So far, Ollie, Sandro, and myself all reincarnated into organic bodies. Could the Traveler reincarnations be more varied than I’d initially thought?

  “Well,” Blair says, breaking the stretching silence. “That went better than expected.”

  I let out a disbelieving laugh.

  “Are you kidding me?” Kanin exclaims, taking the words right out of my mouth. “We almost…”

  Wearily, I shake my head. “I wish you would have given us better warning of what to expect, Blair.”

  The god appears unmoved. “You were both informed the other had a powerful remnant. I’m not sure what further warning you could have desired.”

  “The fact that it’s some kind of homunculus, for one,” Mirzayael says.

  Ah, so these are known sorts of artificial constructs then. The idea fascinates me; I haven’t seen anything like this in the Fortress, and I haven’t made more than a handful of trips to the surface. A dozen questions bubble to the forefront of my mind, but before I can ask any of them, Zyneth cuts in.

  “He is named Kanin, if you please.” The cambion speaks with a faint accent and respectful tone. However, from the way his eyes have narrowed at Mirzayael, I suspect there’s some sort of threat behind his words.

  “Hey,” Kanin says abruptly, gesturing toward me. “Why do you have a body?”

  The question is so sudden, so bizarre and yet so mundane after the disaster we just narrowly diverted, I can’t help but laugh. “I was wondering much the inverse about you.”

  “Well, my soul ended up here, but my body got left on Earth,” he says. Though, now that I’m paying attention, I’m not sure he’s the one actually speaking. There’s a stone fixed beneath his neck, like a jewel on a necklace, and when I Check the device, I confirm my suspicions: it’s a translation stone, much like Ollie’s.

  Kanin stuffs his hands in his pockets, and his tone abruptly shifts to something more serious. “Look, ah, that’s not important. There’s some things we probably need to talk about.”

  That can’t be good.

  Before I can respond, however, Mirzayael steps in. “First, I believe we need to lay some ground rules. You are in our Kingdom, and so you will comply with our law. I am already granting you an exceptional amount of grace. If anyone else had dared threaten one of our rulers, I would have immediately subdued them.”

  “One of your rulers?” While Kanin doesn’t exactly have a face, he tips his head toward me in an obvious indication of curiosity. The gesture is fascinating to witness on such an inhuman form.

  I smile guiltily. “It’s a long story.”

  “But,” Mirzayael continues, raising her voice over the two of us, “I understand that these Roles of yours compel you to do things you have no control over. As such, I am willing to overlook your transgression. However, understand that while you may gain Fyre’s trust, you will have to earn mine separately. One toe out of line, and we retain the right to remove you from our kingdom, by whatever means necessary. Understood?”

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  Kanin nods. “Understood.”

  Mirzayael glares at Zyneth next.

  “Of course,” the cambion agrees, the faintest hint of sarcasm in his tone. “I wouldn’t want to provoke a queen.”

  Mirzayael’s eyes narrow, and I can feel anger stirring within her. It’s like he knows exactly how to press her buttons.

  “Good,” Blair says before Mirzayael has a chance to linger in her growing distaste of Zyneth. “I am pleased with what I have witnessed here. I believe you two stand to demonstrate a strong case for enshrining the protections of Travelers. Things will not move quickly—they rarely do, in the Heavens—but this will certainly help. Now, as I mentioned before, my window here is short. I can only stay for another hour before I must depart.” She looks at Kanin and Zyneth. “I can either leave you here or take you back.”

  So little time? But there is so much I would like to speak about. How he came by such a body—if he’s learned anything else of the gods and remnants—why Blair wanted me to meet this Traveler, specifically.

  But to my delight, Kanin seems to be on the same page. “We’ll probably stay, if it’s alright with our hosts,” he says. “I’ll let you know what we decide before you leave.”

  Blair dips her head. “As you wish.”

  Kanin’s head swivels toward me. Mirzayael glares at Zyneth. Blair and her champion impassively watch all of us.

  “Is this wise?” Mirzayael asks me privately. “We know nothing about them.”

  “Then I suppose we should change that,” I reply.

  I clap my hands together, breaking the silence and causing Zyneth to flinch. “Well! We should get started then, shouldn’t we? I think a tour is in order. We can speak while we walk, if that’s alright. I need to go check up on Ollie and reassure him I’m fine.”

  “Sure,” Kanin says, a note of uncertainty in his artificial voice.

  I try to offer him a reassuring smile. “Great!” Even to my own ears, the enthusiasm sounds forced.

  We file out of the office and into the main throne room. I keep an eye on Kanin out of the corner of my eye; the Dungeon Core is embedded in the throne, and if his remnant were to sense it, I worry we might experience a repeat of our previous mental battle. Kanin, however, doesn’t appear to react to the throne, and simply follows me across the room.

  I hadn’t realized how much I’d relied on facial expressions to gauge people until this moment. It’s odd to have no idea what Kanin might be thinking or feeling, except through the occasional gesture of body language. I might share Mirzayael’s concern if Blair wasn’t vouching for him.

  “I’m sure there’s much to speak about with regard to our remnants,” I finally say, discomforted by the growing silence. I slow until we’re walking side-by-side, with Zyneth and Mirzayael following us closely behind. “First, however, I’d like to introduce you to another Traveler.”

  This stirs amusement in Mirzayael. “This should be good.”

  “There’s two of you?” Kanin asks, surprise in his tone.

  “Three, actually.” I lead the group to the nearest balcony, which lets out onto one of Ollie’s pavilions. “And hopefully, one day, many more. I’ve only recently started to put out feelers to find more of us. It’s difficult, since I have to show I mean well and I’m not one of the gods trying to trick them into exposing themselves.” I glance back at Blair with an apologetic smile. “No offense intended.”

  “No offense taken,” she replies. “It seems a rational fear to account for.”

  Sunlight spills over us as we reach the pavilion. A faint tension releases from my shoulders now that we’re out of the throne room. So far, so good. Well, relatively speaking, I suppose.

  As I continue to move forward, however, I notice Kanin and Zyneth have stopped. Zyneth blinks against the sunlight, turning his head every which direction in apparent surprise. Kanin’s head doesn’t move; instead, something flies out of his pocket. Mirzayael briefly tenses up, but the items aren’t headed toward Mirzayael or I. The cluster of items pause at the edge of the pavilion, then gently drift apart, sparkling in the light. Glass, I realize. A handful of small pieces of glass. I wonder what they’re for?

  [Check,] Echo says as I try to gleam more information on the objects. [Attuned glass.]

  Significantly less useful than I was hoping for.

  Finally, Kanin says, “Are we in the Drifting Isles?”

  Zyneth lets out a breath. “We are. How is this possible? We were only here a few months ago.”

  “Were you?” I’m surprised they recognized the Ruin from the inside. Have they been here before? “Funny timing. We only moved in one month ago.”

  “Moved in?” Kanin repeats. “How do you just move a city into a floating island?”

  I chuckle. “With a lot of effort.”

  Moving toward the balustrade, in part to keep toward the edge of the pavilion, but also to sneak closer to these interesting pieces of Attuned glass Kanin is controlling, I reach back out to Ollie.

  “We’re on the South Pavilion if you’d like to join us and meet our new guests,” I say.

  “OH, YAY! COMING.” I can distantly sense Ollie change directions, angling his flight back toward us. “I WONDER IF THEY HAVE PRESENTS.”

  “Not everyone who comes to the city will give you presents, you know,” I tell him. Even so, visitors still sometimes manage to sneak some “offerings” to him when I’m not paying attention.

  “I KNOW,” Ollie says. “BUT THEY MIGHT!”

  “Please stand back,” I tell the others, gesturing for them to join me against the railing. “He needs room to land.”

  A shadow passes over us, and Zyneth jumps back, knives drawn. A gust of wind hits us the next moment; I brace against it, anticipating the gust, but Kanin stumbles back a few feet until he catches himself against the rail.

  “I don’t like that one,” Mirzayael thinks as the cambion narrows his eyes at the descending dragon. “He’s too suspicious.”

  “I wouldn’t know anyone like that,” I tease.

  Mirzayael sniffs, ignoring my prod as Zyneth sheaths his blades, cautiously retreating to Kanin’s side.

  Ollie lands on the platform, immediately leaning forward to sniff the newcomers. He lets out an excited breath, showering the two with flecks of frost.

  “Kanin, this is Ollie,” I say, heading over to the boy’s side. I scratch his muzzle just where he likes it, and he lets out a pleased rumble. I gesture to Kanin next. “Ollie, this is our guest, Kanin. He’s from Earth, like us.”

  “They haven’t met a dragon before,” I privately tell Ollie. “So make sure to be nice.”

  Ollie is too excited to hear this last part. “OH COOL! MORE FRIENDS! HEY, WHY DO YOU LOOK SO WEIRD?”

  I grimace. “Ollie—”

  “HELLO?” Ollie calls before Kanin can even get a word in. “CAN YOU HEAR ME? DIZZI HELPED MAKE MY TRANSLATOR LOUDER. OH! OR ARE YOU ONE OF THE SIGN LANGUAGE PEOPLE? YOU DON’T LOOK LIKE IT, MOST OF THEM ARE SNAKES.”

  “Ollie,” I interrupt out loud. I give his muzzle a pat. “Give him a moment to respond, first.”

  It’s hard to tell from his body language, but Kanin seems pretty caught off guard—which, to be fair, is how most people react when they first meet Ollie.

  “I am one of the ‘sign language people,’” Kanin replies in sign language. Then he switches over to his translator. “But not a snake.”

  Joy bursts through Ollie’s mind. “YOU HAVE A SPEECH STONE TOO! JUST LIKE ME! LOOK HOW COOL MINE IS.” He cranes his head up to show off his translator, and I smile softly. I hadn’t expected him to have communication barriers as well, but I’m glad for it. Well, not glad that he needs accommodations, but I am happy that Ollie won’t have to be alone in this. Perhaps they can find some form of solidarity in each other. Certainly, I can feel that Ollie feels an immediate connection to Kanin, like the two of them are privy to some special secret. Though, as I watch Kanin in amusement, I’m not sure he feels the same.

  “That’s… very cool,” he says stiltedly, and I have to cover my smile. Oh, he doesn’t know how to talk to kids, does he?

  “ISN’T IT?” Ollie preens. “IT’S BEEN FUN TALKING TO ALL SORTS OF PEOPLE.”

  I decide to take pity on the man. “Did you know sign language from the start?” I ask. “I’ve attempted to pick up a few phrases over the last couple months, but I’m afraid I don’t have much time to dedicate to it.”

  “From the start?” Kanin edges away from Ollie as I address him. Surprisingly, however, Zyneth takes Kanin’s place, offering a hand up for Ollie to sniff, seemingly unphased by the giant beast, now that he knows it’s sapient.

  “No, I had to learn it,” Kanin says. He tips his head at me. “You didn’t learn Dunmorish, did you?”

  I shake my head. “It came with the body, it seems. I imagine your circumstances are similar to Ollie’s? I’m able to read and write in Dunmorish, but Ollie can’t. I’ve come to suspect that these bodies were patterned off the remains of creatures near where we reincarnated. It appears some of our capabilities and skills might have been patterned off them, too.”

  Even as I begin to become lost in the excitement of sharing my theories, I realize Kanin’s body couldn’t have come about the same way; his body isn’t organic. “Though, you break the pattern I’ve observed thus far,” I muse. “I may have to reformulate my hypothesis.”

  “Perhaps.” Kanin’s response is quieter than before, regaining a hint of the trepidation I’d detected earlier. “I’d like to hear more about it. But… there’s something I want to discuss with you as well. Privately, if possible.”

  Well, that confirms my suspicions. There’s definitely something more serious going on here—probably the reason Blair wanted us to meet in the first place. Could it be something to do with the remnants? Or gods? I can’t imagine what else would cause him such anxiety.

  “Of course,” I agree, hoping I can set his concerns somewhat at ease. “We can find somewhere more secluded. Ollie, do you mind? We can all chat again a bit later—maybe over lunch.”

  “OKAY,” Ollie says, already having lost interest in the rest of us as Zyneth scratches the side of his muzzle. Ollie sighs out a content sigh, scattering frost over the cambion, and the man laughs as the flakes frost his black hair and red skin. Ah, now here is one who is comfortable with children. Or, at least, dragons.

  “I’M GOING TO GO PLAY WITH MERITIS, THEN,” Ollie says. He lets out a happy grumble. “NICE TO MEET YOU, KANIN! AND NICE DEMON PERSON. BYE, FYRE!” Then Ollie turns away, his tail whipping over our heads—causing Zyneth and Kanin to duck—as he leaps off the balcony to go search for his friend.

  Zyneth blinks after him. “Demon person?”

  Mirzayael sinks down to my level, lowering her voice. “I don’t think this is wise.”

  I’d expected her to say as much. “It’ll be fine. You know I can handle myself.” Mentally, I add, “And you’re just a thought away if I do need help.”

  “That won’t help if he attacks you and I’m not close enough to stop it.”

  I mentally laugh. “Does he really seem like the type to you?”

  Her eyes narrow as she glances at Zyneth. He’s also speaking with Kanin in quiet tones. “The cambion might.”

  “Good thing he’s staying with you, then,” I say. My, she really was affected by her initial confrontation with the cambion. I suspect it bothers her that he was able to block her attack.

  “I am not,” she grumbles, catching the thought. “I just want you to be safe.”

  “I will be,” I promise. “Ollie’s Role Requirement hasn’t been triggered since that initial fight, so I truly don’t think either mean us any harm. And if its remnant tries anything again, I’ve always got the Dungeon Core in my corner.” Even if it can’t eat Kanin’s glass, opening a hole beneath his feet should be more than sufficient—though I hope it should not come to that.

  “Alright.” Mirzayael finally sighs. “I’ll check in on you later if I haven’t heard anything.”

  I squeeze her arm. “Thank you.”

  When I turn away from Mirzayael, I find Kanin and Zyneth in some form of embrace, with Kanin’s triangular glass head resting lightly against Zyneth’s forehead, a hand on each other’s shoulder.

  Kanin pulls back in unmistakable embarrassment, quickly gesturing toward me as he steps away from Zyneth. “Lead the way.”

  I dip my head in acknowledgement as Zyneth retreats to stand near Blair—putting the god between himself and Mirzayael, I notice. I have to temporarily restrict my mental link to Mirzayael to keep her from hearing my amusement.

  I begin to guide Kanin along the balcony, no destination in mind save for somewhere that will feel a bit more private. “You two seem close,” I remark, watching the glass man’s reaction.

  “Yeah. We’re, ah, dating,” he says, as if this would be a surprise to anyone who had seen him interact with Zyneth for more than thirty seconds. The level of unease he’s displaying now feels less anxious and more self-conscious, which I consider a step up.

  “What about you and Mirzayael?” he quickly adds.

  “The same.” Just thinking about our relationship causes warmth to bloom anew in my chest. “It’s been about three months now.”

  “Six for us,” Kanin says, starting to sound a little more at ease.

  “You must not have known each other for very long before you got together,” I observe, considering the timeline. We’ve barely been on this planet for six months. “No judgment intended,” I belatedly add.

  “None taken,” he says. Yet, that tense hesitation is creeping back into his body language. “Actually, that’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  I’m finding it hard to pin the man down. He wasn’t afraid to talk back to Blair, yet sometimes he seems as skittish as Sandro. I keep my tone light in an attempt to make him feel more comfortable. “Our relationships?”

  “No,” he laughs. “Though I am glad for you.”

  “I’m surprised,” I tease. “Your partner didn’t seem to be Mirzayael’s biggest fan.”

  “Probably not,” he says, his tone once more tinged with amusement. “Though I suspect the wariness goes both ways.”

  I laugh. “I’m certain it goes both ways.”

  Just as it feels like he’s settling comfortably into conversation, he abruptly comes to a stop. “The Dark Lord?” he says, obviously shocked.

  I grimace out a smile. “Ah, yes, I see you’ve noticed my Role. Terribly fitting, don’t you think?”

  “Uh, not really,” he says, sounding too baffled to be anything other than honest.

  I chuckle. “Very kind for saying so. It’s a label I’ve struggled with, actually. And abiding by its Role Requirements has introduced its own sort of challenges.”

  “Like raising armies and defeating foreign kingdoms?” he asks, somewhere between amusement and concern.

  “No!” I laugh before I can think my objection all the way through. Well… “Actually, I suppose I have done both those things. But that wasn’t part of my Requirement.”

  He snorts. “I’m not sure that makes it better.”

  I shake my head with a sad smile. “No, you’re right, sorry. So much has happened since I arrived here—but that story may take some time to tell. My Role Requirement, which I have some theories about, binds me to this kingdom. As such, I’ve done everything in my power to keep it and its people safe.”

  “Oh.” Kanin seems to think for a moment. “So is that why you ended up here? You couldn’t leave the city, so you brought the city with you?”

  I can’t help but laugh at the conclusion he came to—a reasonable guess, to be fair! “Well, no, not really, but I won’t deny the whimsical appeal of wandering the world in a floating castle.” Since my Role doesn’t seem to have scared him away, I decide to take my chances at gathering information to develop my own theories. “Homunculus is an interesting Role. It appears to be related to your body.”

  But this seems to be the wrong move. “Yes.” His tone grows distant and tense once more. “That’s partly what I need to talk to you about.”

  Kanin abruptly stops talking, as if considering what he wants to say next. Admittedly, I have no idea where this conversation is going, but I know enough to give him the space to sort through his thoughts. As we descend a marble staircase to a small courtyard, I notice a few glass marbles have appeared in one of his hands, rolling around and orbiting his fingers like miniature moons about a planet. A nervous habit, perhaps?

  Kanin stops in the courtyard, abruptly grabbing the marbles and squeezing them in his fist. “I don’t have a body because I didn’t come here the same way the rest of you did,” he finally says.

  Interesting. Can’t say I had anticipated this possibility. But I don’t interrupt, waiting for him to continue.

  “I didn’t arrive on the same day, either.” His shoulders slump, but his voice sounds less tense. Like it took all his energy just to start the conversation. Static friction is always higher than dynamic friction, I can’t help but think.

  “I died, fell Between, and was brought to Lusio about three months before the rest of you.” Kanin turns to face me. “Do you know what The Between is?”

  “I’ve read about it some, and Echo has filled me in on the rest.” It’s one of the dimensions that acts as an arcana source—null arcana, I believe, which encompasses space, summoning, and void magic.

  But Kanin seems surprised by my response. “Echo?”

  I frown. “Yes. The other Travelers I’ve spoken to also have an Echo. Do you not?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes, I do, I’m just surprised the rest of you do. I don’t think…” He pauses for a moment, and when he speaks again, he’s switched to sign language instead of using his translator. “I don’t think the gods know about them.”

  Ah, he’s worried about Blair listening in on our conversation. I had suspected the same possibility. But if there’s information he believes is best divulged in confidence, that’s something I can help with. “I believe you’re correct.”

  I touch Kanin’s hand and activate Psionic Touch.

  Or at least, I try to.

  [No subject established,] Echo says.

  Kanin freezes, looking down at my hand. “Um…”

  “That’s odd.” I frown. “My spell isn’t working on you.”

  Kanin doesn’t respond to this, but I do feel his glass flinch slightly. Right—probably should clarify my intentions. “It’s a privacy spell,” I elaborate. “I need to be in physical contact.”

  He relaxes. “Ah. I know why it didn’t work then.”

  He reaches for the neck of his jacket and hesitates a moment, as if having second thoughts. Then he undoes the top few buttons of his coat, just enough to expose the top portion of his glass torso.

  The craftsmanship briefly takes my breath away. The design isn’t anatomical so much as practical, different portions of glass stacked on top of each other in intricate layers. I imagine the design is to simulate flexibility, and it all must be fixed in place through some form of magic. Dozens—perhaps hundreds—of small spell circles are etched into the glass. And in the middle of his chest, close to where a heart should be, something dark and glowing is buried beneath the glass. I don’t know how it can be both these things at once. Perhaps it’s a trick of the eye, as the object is refracted in a hundred shadowy shapes and sizes through different facets of the glass, like viewing a jewel beneath the surface of a rippling pond.

  Kanin puts a hand over the strange, dark shape embedded in his chest. “This is my real body. My core. The rest is just Attuned glass.”

  “Amazing,” I breathe. I’ve never heard of anything like this in any of my (admittedly limited) arcane studies. I instinctively raise a hand to touch it, then stop myself. There must be a reason he keeps it protected beneath glass and hidden behind his coat. Him sharing this truth about himself feels oddly intimate.

  “Is this alright?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer immediately. Maybe he’s not even sure himself. But then the layers of glass slide away, revealing the dark, glowing sphere underneath. It almost looks like a bottle filled with oil—or, no, it’s too transparent for that. Shadows? Even as I watch it, my perception seems to shift, and I can never quite decide what it looks like.

  Void, I realize. The same magic I’d seen him wield when our remnants first clashed. This core—Kanin’s ‘real’ body—somehow is filled with void magic.

  “Go ahead,” he says quietly.

  Gently, reverently, I reach forward and lightly touch the swirling vial of Nothing.

  [Psionic Touch spell activated,] Echo says.

  And his mind opens into my own.

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