I’ve read in multiple places where people compare seals with star charts. Now one could argue it’s because the stars represent a near-infinite number of dots, and you can connect them any bloody way you like. Makes sense, doesn’t it? But, BUT, what if there’s another take on it.

  — Excerpt from Notes For Newstar

  Day 1820, 4:00 PM

  I had been the Tidebreakers’ guest for over seven moons when I learned they employed a seer. And it wasn’t through an official introduction.

  I met the man wearing the funny robes of his office in the hallway. He was passing by while Maelstrom and I chatted when he glanced at me.

  The three of us all froze. The man stared at me, mouth agape, his mouth locked in a silent scream. Then, blood gushed from his nose and sprayed from his eyes and ears.

  Shocked, Maelstrom and I stared as a crimson wave found its way out through his mouth, then he dropped dead, blood pooling all around him.

  “Uncle Nineeyes!” Maelstrom shrieked.

  She reached down to grab him, but I seized her arm.

  “Help!” I shouted, then pulled Maestrom away. “He could have been poisoned.”

  An instant later, a scowling man appeared, glaring at the corpse, blood still gushing out of it.

  “His-insides-were-liquified?” He said the words so quickly they blended into each other. And yet, three more people gathered before he had fully uttered them.

  The exalt and two others I didn’t recognize stared at the corpse for a split second before turning towards us.

  “What happened?” the eldest of them asked.

  Maelstrom bowed deeply, and I mirrored her for good measure, but mana itself righted us.

  “Seer Nineeyes walked towards us, gasped, then looked at us, before…” Maelstrom shook. “Before he started bleeding.”

  The regal man in his sixties looked at me, and I could feel the intrusion.

  “The old man turned around the corner, looked towards us, then died.”

  “...Cult?” Maelstrom’s grandfather said the words so fast I only caught the last one.

  “No.” The old man shook his head. “...method.”

  Then they turned towards us again.

  “Leave,” the old man said at a speed we could follow.

  And we did as he ordered. I didn’t ask who he was, nor did I mention what had happened. In fact, I stayed completely silent, letting Maelstrom process the newest trauma suddenly added to her list of ‘life is short but death is brutal’ moments.

  “I need a drink.” It was a weak thing to say, something that would have probably disappointed Maelstrom’s grandfather had he heard her.

  And it was technically my fault. I rubbed my eyes and then dragged my palm down my face before speaking.

  “Maelstrom, drinking isn’t bad, but you need to know your limits. Stick to them, and never, ever, use drink to escape a problem. It will only lead you into bigger problems with the old ones piling up behind you, waiting to bury you.”

  She glared at me. “I’m not escaping. I just need a drink after seeing a man I’ve known half my life burst into blood. Alright?”

  “All right. Sure. We can grab a glass of wine.”

  I wondered whether I had really turned a princess into an alcoholic. Unfortunately, it was too late for a redo even if I had. Then again, I can imagine a normal man off the street who had never drunk a drop, asking for a drink after witnessing what we just did.

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  Maelstrom’s attendant, a young-looking fourth realm woman called Shield, joined us. She had joined us several times already. My guess was Maelstrom’s grandfather sent her when he expected the young princess would be drinking.

  Instead of looming over us like a bodyguard, she sat at the table, sipping her wine much like I did. Maelstrom, on the other hand, showed no such constraint.

  “So, what can you tell me about Lord Nineeyes?” I asked her after she drank her first glass of wine in a single sip.

  Her hand froze as she grabbed the bottle.

  “Nothing much. He was nice and kind. Sometimes tutored me in history, politics, and the way of the ruler. But you could tell it wasn’t his real job. Not really. He had a tendency of getting into arguments with himself about minor details of his lessons. He wasn’t trying to be funny; he just sounded like there was more than one of him in his head.”

  She looked at me. “Can that happen? For more than one of you to be in your head?”

  “Well, yes.” Split personality is a real thing. Not that common, but then again it was common enough on Earth to make movies and bleed into pop culture. “I’m not sure whether they could argue. Direct interaction should alert them they were in the same body, and that might cause more problems. But the condition isn’t well documented, or at least I haven’t run into books on the subject.”

  Maelstrom had used the chance to pour herself a glass, but at least she didn’t down it immediately and only took a sip before setting it down.

  “Anything else you can tell me about Lord Nineeyes? Any anecdotes about his prophecies? Something else you remember him for?”

  “His most famous prophecy is about me.” Maelstrom raised her head smugly, then sank back into her seat. “For her, the heavens shall fall, the ocean shall break, and the sun’s tears will be shed.”

  She said it softly, but each word made my sight hazier and the sounds dimmer until the world faded away.

  ***

  A familiar battle snapped into existence. Newstar hung high in the sky, burning like a miniature sun as he dealt with the rift. Maelstrom, sword in hand, decapitated an imperial minister. The man exploded, his body splitting into flesh, blood, bone, and faint miasma, which entered the four nearest cultists fighting alongside the imperial forces.

  Maelstrom froze the ghostsovereign, the shell of ice bursting and shattering the inhuman creature into pieces. Shrapnel smashed against the defenses of friend and foe alike, but everyone was too high realm for an attack’s aftermath to affect them.

  The battle was pure chaos, the battlefield impossible to read from a soldier’s perspective, mana in such turmoil it blinded her mana sense. But Maelstrom trusted her allies, slaughtering whoever stood in her way. People were dying all around. Fortunately, only some of the imperial ministers empowered the cultists with their deaths, while the cultists lacked the time to steal power from others.

  Above her head, scattered across the heavens, imperial exalts and cultists alike clashed with saurians, the beasts taking advantage of their innate flight while the humans had to split their attention between fight and flight. She glanced to see whether anyone had punched through to Newstar.

  The moment’s distraction cost her. A spear of bone pierced her chest. As her sternum shattered, Maelstrom coated her skeleton in a layer of ice to protect herself from the cultist’s vile art. It wasn’t enough. Bone pierced her heart, then exploded her chest.

  She fell back, gazing towards the sky where Newstar closed the rift.

  “Pumpkin.” She smiled, and Dandelion was back in his own skin.

  ***

  I held back a gasp after sharing Maelstrom’s pain.

  “You look strange,” the young princess said, and I focused on her face.

  She will die at the ninth realm. And she didn’t look like a washed-up drunk, which is definitely a plus. The cultists probably went after her parents because the Tidebreakers will throw their lot with Newstar’s faction. But how did he recruit the saurians? Or did they recruit him? The biggest dragon’s mana signature was identical to Newt’s.

  “Just thought of something. Any clue what that’s supposed to mean?” I bet Newstar will shed tears for everyone who dies in that battle.

  “I have no idea. It was the most cryptic fortune Uncle Nineeyes ever told. It was also the reason I got special attention from my grandfather.”

  I kept prodding her to talk about the dead seer, but she didn’t really have any warm memories of him. He was just someone she had known since she was a child, and my heart wasn’t really in the conversation.

  I was more focused on factions that had battled in the vision and compared them to the ones I had seen in the vision Newstar had triggered. There seemed to have been some shifts in who was fighting against whom in the clashes between exalts, but it could have been due to different perspective.

  Or this vision had taken into account the changes I’ve made since I first met Newstar. If that’s the case, I might manage to save Maelstrom?

  I lacked information, like I often did, but it would cost little to spend a week or month to craft some life-saving device for her, once I reached a higher realm. Unfortunately, I had a feeling it was all wishful thinking. Still, knowing I have done my best to save a talented young woman who opposed the outer gods would soothe my conscience a bit, considering how many they had slain using the information they had gotten from my redos.

  The evening ended in a sober mood and with me successfully talking Maelstrom out of drinking after four glasses of wine. She was angry about that, but after the initial shock about an old acquaintance’s sudden death passed, talking about things proved more constructive than getting hammered.