In an instant I am far away. I sense the way space seems to tremble, as though my presence is forcefully exerted on the memory of existence. The closest sensation is that of taking a transport array. I thought the artifact was going to work like a microphone and let me talk to someone–why do I feel like...

The thought trails off as my vertigo fades and I take in the surroundings. The pale wood floor is different from the stone and cloud-cotton rugs of the Perennial Palace. My vital vision isn’t available, suggesting that wherever I am, I’m not there physically.

As my eyes pan to the wall, I freeze, my heart missing a beat.

Covering the wall is a canvas tapestry covered in oil paint. Broad strokes at the periphery give way to painstaking small strokes toward the center of the image, naturally drawing the eye to the painting’s focus: a man armored in white bone plate and iridescent darkness, his expression thoughtful, his hand extended toward the sun.

Not a sun, I realize, but a woman like the sun–Ari.

And the man is me. But not the kind of me I’d expect to see in the media or in inevitable military propaganda. They would portray me as strong, indomitable. But in this image my posture is subdued, my eyes shining with reticence. As I study the painting more, I realize that my hand isn’t stretched toward the Ari-sun, but toward the vulnerable city beneath her, tendrils of Death and shards of bone springing forth as though to offer protection. I notice details like the city sinking into the ground and elementalist crossfire setting more than one building on fire. The ground is cracked and dry and the real sun is hidden beneath dark, rose-colored sunset clouds.

Overall, it’s not a happy scene–it’s full of dread and doom.

“Germaine,” I croak, the words barely escaping my lips. I tear my face away from the tapestry and turn around, part of me incredibly afraid. She’s reposing on a chair in the far side of the room, her gaze locked on a sketch held in place by metal clips. As I take in more of the surroundings, I recognize that we’re in the Dunai-Adricaius compound in Feather. I’m not sure how to process that information–I feel immense relief that she’s alive and seemingly well, but why isn’t she in the SPU? I’m confident that she’d be welcomed and protected there.

I walk over to her and she remains ignorant of my presence. I can’t tell if it’s because she can’t perceive me, or she’s too absorbed in her work.

“Germaine,” I murmur, standing over her shoulder.

Her head snaps around, her eyes like saucers. She just stares at me for a second, taking me in, and I stare at her in turn. It hasn’t been long since we’ve been apart–less than a school semester–but our parting was meant to be permanent.

Suspicion begins to cloud her eyes and she recoils, her eyebrows coming inward. “You can’t be Ian–who are you?”

I shake my head. “I found a way to speak with people back home.”

Her disbelief doesn’t abate. “But...how? Why do none of the other ascendants make contact with those they’ve left behind? It doesn’t...” Her lip trembles. “Whoever you are, you should know that messing with me is akin to toying with the Crowned Executor himself, and the Dunai clan won’t stand a practitioner intruding on their territory. I’m giving you five seconds to leave before I take action.”

“Wait–Germaine, when you said farewell to me for the last time, you gave me something, and I gave something to you. Will you believe it’s really me if I know what those items are?”

She blinks and subconsciously rubs her wrist, calling attention to the soul gem bracelet I made for her. “What are they?”

I point at her hand. “I gave you that bracelet. It has one blue soul gem made with Bluebird’s energy. You gave me an inked sketch of our family with you, me, Mother, Father, and Aunt Julia.”

Tears well up and begin to spill over, drawing lines down her cheeks. “I also gave you something else.”

I stare at her blankly before it comes to me. “Oh! The muffin.” That’s right–I hadn’t been able to go to the compound’s kitchen, so Germaine had sneaked me breakfast.

Her lips spread into a wide smile, her eyes alight with joy. “I can’t believe it. Well, I can, but I can’t.”

“You gave me the muffin and said that you loved me,” I recount. I realize that I’m crying as well. “We said our final goodbye at dawn and I never saw you again.”

She leaps at me and travels right through my body, confirming my suspicion that I’m just an incorporeal projection. That doesn’t deter her–she holds her arms around me as though imagining the sensation of touch. She starts bawling, her shoulders heaving with sobs. We cry into one another for a solid minute in rapturous catharsis.

Finally she grows exhausted and pads over to the room’s lone futon and collapses, her dark hair patterning the gray cloth like a midnight sunburst.

“How are you here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Are you worried about what I’ll think?” she asks, her hands clenching. “In your absence I’ve learned more about what you’ve had to do. I want you to know that I don’t judge you for what you’ve done. I said it before and I’ll say it again, I love you. I trust you and your choices. I’m an open ear and a full heart–I’m here to listen.”

What is one supposed to say to that?

I tell her everything.

—

I leave Germaine after promising to keep in touch. I originally wasn’t planning to tell her about Maria and my full plunge into necromancy, but the words leave my mouth in a ceaseless torrent. Speaking to her is almost a confession of my doubts and regrets, and her calm acceptance is the absolution I didn’t know I needed.

She confirmed that Euryphel was alive, though she deflected whenever I asked why she was in Feather, telling me that we’d have time to talk about what had happened to her the next time I contacted her.

Sitting on the cloud bed in the Perennial Palace, I hover my thumb over the transmission artifact’s button, considering who to visit next.

I soon find myself in a high rise apartment with a view looking out onto a body of water partly hidden behind glassy skyscrapers. The water should be Lake Shattramar and the city, Morinapol.

“Divian, calm yourself,” Soolemar sighs, looking absently at his glossY. He’s sitting in a large, comfortable-looking leather chair. His dog, Divian, is whining at him. “So unlike you to be begging,” the necromancer mutters.

Divian runs over to where I’m standing and sits. Soolemar’s eyes widen as he notices my presence. I’m not surprised it took him a second–he relies primarily on vital vision, and without a physical manifestation I’m invisible to that sense.

“Soolemar,” I state, smiling. “So there’s no room for misunderstandings, we first met in Yurusi Canyon. You had me touch a green orb to see souls but I could already see them.”

His gaze is inscrutable. “Whose soul did you steal?”

“I never stole, but I did accept a soul that you gave to me.”

“Whose?”

“Woeshiv.”

Soolemar nods slowly, then begins to laugh. “This is wondrous. I never expected to see you again. How are you here?”

“I obtained an artifact that allows me to talk to anyone in the world.”

The old necromancer’s green eyes stare at me intently, as though trying to discern whether I’m exaggerating. “Such an artifact sounds priceless beyond measure,” he finally remarks. “I’m sure you have quite the story to tell. You haven’t been gone for very long and you’re already getting into trouble.”

Trouble is an understatement.

I start from the beginning. I tell him about Karanos and Achemiss and how Maria and I struggled and ultimately failed.

“So you did it,” Soolemar murmurs, brow furrowed and hands steepled on his lap. “The ultimate taboo.”

My cheeks redden with shame–in the projection, I realize I don’t have control of my practice and can’t suppress such physiological reactions. I’m not sure why I feel ashamed before him. When I told Germaine, she listened and didn’t show much reaction, her gaze steady and supportive. It was easy to think she didn’t understand the full gravity of what I’d done, even though I know on an intellectual level that she’s sharp enough to understand exactly what I was telling her.

But there’s no hiding from the knowing eyes of Soolemar. He looks at me now with a peculiar form of judgment.

“So I did,” I reply.

“And do you feel like a changed man?” he asks.

“No,” I murmur. “You’d think that when you cross the moral lines established by society that you should feel something.”

Soolemar’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “You’d think.” He nods for me to continue.

“It’s only in hindsight do I start to feel a sense of horror, do I recognize the splintering of myself, bits and pieces flaking off and dissolving away, leaving someone slightly more willing to do what others are not. Here stands before you a man who has done the unthinkable.”

“Y’jeni, Ian, so melodramatic.” Soolemar’s facade cracks as he rolls his eyes. “I think you’ve missed an important point in the hustle and bustle. Consider Floria and Kurgezwyst. Is Kurgezwyst evil?”

“Maybe.” Floria’s vision left that much unclear.

Soolemar sighs. “Look, Ian–there is no evil. There are no immutable moral lines. In a way, committing taboo is the highest form of enlightenment. I was going to congratulate you on your progress before you got all angsty on me.”

I feel like a deer caught in the headlights of a hovergloss. “Oh.”

“You’re the most insecure ascendant I’ve ever met,” he states. “I’m not calling you spineless, mind–you’re courageous when you need to be. But you have to stop worrying about what others think.”

“You care what others think,” I point out. Soolemar lives his whole life under the radar, unable to reveal his true self to the world.

He snorts. “Yes, because to do otherwise is inviting a death sentence. It’s pragmatics, Ian. I am not ashamed of myself and what I’ve done to secure my immortality. Neither should you be.”

I turn away, my entire face hot.

Soolemar smiles. “My, it’s so refreshing to see you this vulnerable. You usually keep your outward emotions bundled up tight.”

Y’jeni, Soolemar, thank you for pointing that out! I’m well aware!

“There’s something you should know,” I deflect, chewing my lip. “I don’t think it’s impossible for you to enter Eternity.”

He chuckles. “Come now, I’m not an ascendant–Eternity’s lands are barred to me.”

“Maria wasn’t an ascendant,” I point out. “And Floria—she brought her entire home world to Eternity. If that’s possible, then I refuse to believe you can’t enter Eternity. Moreover, Maria hasn’t had any issues since her resurrection.”

He falls silent, his eyes gravitating to the window. “I swear that if you’re giving me false hope, I’ll kill you.” He blinks. “Damn it. I wasn’t expecting you’d come back. Didn’t think you’d remember old Mar.” There’s raw emotion in his voice–perhaps he’s deciding to mirror my vulnerability out of respect.

“How could I forget you? I promised to help if I could.”

“I never told you, but you weren’t the only ascendant I’ve helped. You’re the only one who’s come back for me.”

That strikes a chord. My chest tightens. “I’m not back yet.”

He shakes his head. “You’re here in spirit.” His mouth quirks into a grin. “Literally. It’s good enough. Even if you were to never really come back...it would be more than enough.”

I’m such a mess today. Tears bead at my eyes and I wipe them away, smiling. “I missed you, Soolemar.”

“Ian...thank you for coming back. For giving me hope.”

I raise an eyebrow, ignoring the tear working its way down my cheek. “Hearing all the nasty parts of Eternity hasn’t dissuaded you at all?”

He shoots me a whimsical smile. “I rather liked what I heard. Sure, there are some difficulties you got embroiled with, but I’d just be able to explore and see new things without worry. It sounds like a paradise to me.”

The conversation quickly wraps up and I return to the Perennial Palace. Emotionally exhausted, I know that the next visit will be the last of the day.

“What are you waiting for?” Crystal wonders.

My thumb has hovered over the button for a solid minute. I don’t know.

“Let go of your fear.”

Crystal–

“Let go. Breathe. There is nothing to fear.”

I don’t even know why I hesitate. I know there is nothing to fear. He’s my best friend.

I sense Crystal at my door. Rather than get up to welcome her, I send a hand of bone to turn the knob. She pads over to the bed, then leaps up and lays down around me. Crystal obviously isn’t fluffy, but her scales are sinuous and soft, and the Death energy coating her legs is comforting. As I lean against her, I feel the rise and fall of her ribs.

I let myself cry in her comfort. “I didn’t think I’d feel so out of sorts after seeing them. It’s barely been two months.”

“Time is relative.”

“I suppose so.” I lay on her and let my thoughts come and go as a form of meditation. Finally I lean forward and exhale out all the air in my lungs. My hands cradle the transmission artifact once more.

“See you soon.”

See you.

I click the button and find myself in Euryphel’s personal parlor, the one with an attached kitchen.

The prince’s back is to me from where he reclines in his favorite leather chair. He’s munching on a slice of buttered bread with one hand and a coffee is held in the other. Both arms are wrapped in bandages. He’s dressed in a practice uniform and his hair is in a messy bun behind his head, suggesting that he’s just come from morning practice.

That’s right–it’s several hours earlier in the SPU than in Feather and Gnoste. From the prince’s casual demeanor, it’s apparent that Germaine hasn’t reached out to inform him that I’ve found a way to contact home.

Do I even call him prince anymore? He’s not the Crowned Prime, but the Crowned Executor. According to Germaine, no longer does he rule the SPU, but all of Ho’ostar.

Looking at him now, he somehow seems less stressed than before. To be fair, when I met him, war was on the horizon, the court in chaos. Peacetime sounds less eventful.

Suddenly Euryphel’s hand trembles and the coffee spills. Reflexive use of his wind affinity spares the prince from being soiled, but the beverage still splashes on the floor.

The prince seems utterly unconcerned by the mess. “No...it can’t...”

I narrow my eyes in concern and decide to make myself known. “Eury–”

“Y’jeni, Ian!” Eury shouts, cutting me off. He throws his toast down on a porcelain saucer and covers his face with both hands. “I cannot fucking believe you’re already back. I prepared myself to wait decades.” His voice cracks. “I didn’t think I’d live that long.”

I’m frozen in place, unable to muster a response. This wasn’t what I was expecting. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Eury didn’t question whether I’m real or not–he’s no doubt ran tens of scenarios already to verify my identity for himself.

“What can I say,” I finally utter. “I told you I’d miss you. Those weren’t empty words–I found a way to make contact as soon as possible.”

He curls up on himself in the seat, silent.

“Eury...I can’t have a conversation with you like this. We have time–I’m not going to disappear again.”

I hesitantly walk over and sit on the arm of his chair. I might not be able to interact with the physical world, but Suncloud’s artifact still lets me stand and perch on surfaces, else I suppose I’d just sink into the earth.

I wish I could hold him. I knew my departure had hurt him, that he’d felt like I left him behind...but I wonder if I failed to understand just how much I hurt him.

“You’re right, we have time,” Euryphel finally says, his voice raw with emotion. “Y’jeni, I’m such a mess.”

“That’s my line.”

“So. Turns out I would have died if I went with you to Eternity,” Euryphel states.

I sigh. Of course he’s asking me questions in scenarios. “Or turned out like Maria–dead. In hindsight it was the right choice. Still, I’m sorry.”

His face is still in his arms. “For what?”

“Leaving you,” I say, raising my voice. “You don’t think I regret it? Even as I learned how I’d saved you from near certain death by leaving you behind, I still regretted, still wished I’d brought you with me. I missed having you around so much.” I bite my lip, nostrils flaring. “Leaving you wasn’t easy, Euryphel.”

“I suppose I should tell you a bit about what’s happened,” he says, peeking out from the bandages. “Can you sense vitality like this?”

I shake my head. “Why?”

He snorts. “I should’ve known. I’ve been recovering ever since Ari’s descent.”

“The burns,” I murmur. “Covered in bandages. Still?”

He emerges like a dainty butterfly from the cocoon of his arms, his golden-white hair strewn messily about his face. “The damage was severe. I could barely move in the beginning, couldn’t even use my elementalism.”

I try to hide my horror, but Eury sees through me.

“Hey,” he interjects. “Wasn’t your fault.”

But it was...

“Anyway, I’m already significantly improved. I can even hold a coffee mug now,” he exclaims lightheartedly. “But seriously, I don’t deserve your sympathy. I may have been stressed out of my mind by Ari and grievously injured, but you know who won in the end?” As he meets my gaze, his fragility vanishes. His eyes are hard, predatory, like the gaze of a lion.

“You did.”

He smirks. “That’s right. Fortune favors the bold, and I’m shocked even now at how bold I was. I made gamble after gamble, trusting in myself and my intuition...and you. It’s all paid off. Ian, you can’t even imagine...wait.” The prince stands up and limps over to the door. He opens it and waves for me to come over.

“Uh, Eury, I don’t know if this is a good idea. I’m not sure how this works–what if other people see me?”

He raises both eyebrows, his eyes wide. “I literally do not care. Come along.”

Through the door lies the outer grounds of the palace. Euryphel moves stealthily despite his hobbled gait, darting around foliage like a naughty boy, grinning at me. His cheer is infectious. I’m sure he’s not really hiding from anyone who matters–notably, the Guard–but that’s not the point.

As we enter the main garden, Euryphel begins to have a tough time keeping himself hidden, regular tourists crowding the paths.

“It’s cheating to walk into the hedge,” the prince points out. “Stop acting like a ghost.”

The game is up when two guards emerge on Euryphel’s sides, effectively announcing his presence to the world. Suddenly Euryphel is a new man, one of power and poise, unassailable. Regulars recoil and bow their heads in deference. The Crowned Executor walks the remaining way swiftly; I follow behind, keeping to the foliage.

Finally we reach the foot of a massive monument, a statue of polished metal. It’s me and Euryphel. We aren’t in battle, but standing next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, smiling.

I peer down at the plaque at the base of our feet. Euryphel reads the lone word adorning it out loud: “Brotherhood.”

I smile softly from the shadows and swallow, my chest filling with the heat of unspecified emotion. “It’s perfect,” I whisper, trusting that the prince will hear.

“I thought you’d like something like this more than a military memento. Y’jeni, I certainly do, and I consider us both men of good taste.”

I chuckle at that.

“Let’s go back. I only heard bits in pieces of what you’d been through before–it’s time you tell me the whole story.”

—

“Are you sure you have time for this?” I ask after speaking for a solid hour. “I can come back later.”

We’re reposing in the sun room, the prince lounging on his favorite divan. He’s bathed and changed into a loose-fitting blue robe. He holds a small cup of hot tea up to his lips and takes a sip before placing the teacup down on its saucer and giving me the evil eye.

“It’s insulting that you think anything could be more important right now than spending time with you. I’d said a final farewell to my best friend, and now here he is before me, revived like a phoenix from the ashes.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Dramatics aside, I’ve already cleared my schedule–please proceed.”

By the time I finish my tale, Euryphel gets a far-off look in his eye.

“It’s your turn,” I state.

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. Not today. I’m troubled by what you’ve told me of the Infinity Loop. It’s far worse than we ever could have imagined.”

I nod. “I know. That’s why I had to find a way to warn you and everyone else.”

He frowns. “This is a lot.”

“What do you mean, specifically?”

He rubs the bridge of his nose, a sad smile on his lips. “I may be the Crowned Executor, but that doesn’t mean I’m all powerful. The states under my domain are largely independent. Moreover, the problem isn’t us–it’s the loop’s inventors in Sere. It’s the East and their surging interest in the machine that made the youngest ascendant in a single hour.”

“What of it? We faced worse odds before.”

Euryphel’s composure cracks for the second time today. “I just don’t know what I can do. I don’t know. Y’jeni, part of me feels like the only solution is turning back the clock, but time only marches forward.”

One of Euryphel’s parakeets perches on his arm and picks at the ornate hemming on his sleeve. He sighs and his expression relaxes. He rubs the back of its head.

“You’re overthinking this,” I tell him.

He scoffs. “Am I, though?”

I nod. “I might not be with you most of the time, but I’m not going away. I don’t have the answers yet either, but I’m not alone, and neither are you. And myself aside, you have supporters. Political squabbling aside, the princes showed their true colors at the end of the war, and you can’t discount your generals.” I smile. “I shouldn’t even need to mention Urstes and the Guard. They all stood by you in the worst of times, and they’re not going to abandon you now, especially not when the world itself is at stake.”

I take a deep breath and echo the words that Crystal said to me a short while ago: “Let go of your fear.”

Euryphel breathes deeply and closes his eyes. Finally, he nods and stands before the perpetually sunny window at the back of the room. The golden light makes his features almost otherworldly, his pale eyelashes catching the light like fine silk.

I stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder, just like the statue.

“I can’t see your fate,” the prince suddenly observes. “That scared me when you first appeared. I thought it meant you were really dead, that you were a ghost. I worried that I was hallucinating. Or that you’d somehow returned but there was no longer any connection between us. That you’d really left me behind.”

I can sense he’s not yet done speaking, so I let the silence linger.

“I don’t–” He stops, and grits his teeth. “I still care for you, Ian. You saw me, the truest, deepest part of me back before you left. You know the depths of my devotion.”

The breath catches in my throat and my heart begins to race.

“I want to believe that we can still be friends, but I’m afraid that I ruined everything.” His face is stoic.

I want to tell him that he’s being stupid, that I’d never abandon or change how I think about him based on what I saw in his soul, but I know that’s not what he needs to hear. I also know it isn’t entirely true–what I saw scared me.

It made me run away.

“I’m done running from what I really want,” I reply. “I want to be by your side, friends to the end. We’ve been through far too much to turn back.” I reach out to grasp his hand. I can’t actually touch him, but his gaze alights on our interposed hands and I know he understands what I’m going for.

He smiles at me, a bright thing, finally free of fear. “Friends to the end.”

END OF BOOK 4