“...Rank nineteen, Ignatius Julian Dunai. Rank twenty, Haru Sonweald...”

Rather than going down the line like before and judging us one by one, Jeseria simply sorts us by our standing.

Nineteen out of twenty-five.

I clench my fist in unvoiced agitation. While schooling my expression and keeping my eyes on Jeseria, my sole focus is on Ketu Bryant, the main reason I’m in the bottom.

At least you’ve escaped the bottom five, Maria says.

I suppress a scoff. Only because I did so well in round two. I feel like I should get points for revealing that we could tear the veil in the stadium. Watching round three as an observer, I realized that most people’s strategies revolved around strategically tearing the veil both for offense and defense.

They weren’t as good at us at doing it, Maria says. Did you see how much energy they used to tear a way into the void?

Luckily for them, they have energy to spare. Especially a juggernaut like Ketu Bryant with his dense ascendant energy. Considering ascendant energy as a metaphorical blade, I can cut with finesse using Karanos’ techniques, but I’m using a dull knife. Bryant’s blade is a claymore.

Karanos is our teacher and guide, but he keeps his energy so tightly coiled and controlled that it isn’t even visible, trapped within his skin. When we spar with him, he uses exactly the amount of energy needed for each maneuver. And when I fought him in the beginning, his power was so overwhelming that it was meaningless–I couldn’t compare his ascendant energy to mine.

This is the first time I’ve faced competitive ascendants on a comparable level–and my first exposure to the difference between grades of ascendant energy. The gaps between grades aren’t drastic, but they are punishing. I only killed Bryant in our first interaction because he wasn’t prepared for what I could do and was in an environment that favored my frost dragon’s body.

After announcing the rankings, Jeseria clasps her hands and smiles. “That was a wonderful second stage of the pageant. Before moving on to the final stage, we will break for dinner and light festivities.”

I flinch, my eyes slightly popping. Festivities? I want to face Ketu now, while my ire is hot, not later.

Ian. Maria grabs my hand and squeezes. Don’t forget our purpose in coming here. It’s not for the pageant, but building your network and investigating the dagger artifact.

I squeeze her hand back and my tension melts away. You’re right–and I suppose there will be time for retribution later.

“Proteges, follow your sponsors to the destination. Dinner starts soon–don’t dawdle lest you wish to test Ascendant Kuin’s patience.” Jeseria nods and then flies away, her white shawl fluttering in the air like a streamer.

Kuin snorts from atop his hovering crystalline throne, but doesn’t deny her statement. He nods to Alan and the pink-caped ascendant follows him toward the viewing area, where the other ascendants repose to watch the pageant. About half are still sitting on a menagerie of thrones, engaging in bored conversation.

The other proteges wait for their sponsors to approach. Along with the other judges, Karanos is already on the main stage and doesn’t have to move an inch to address us.

“Come,” Karanos says simply. “We need to collect Crystal. Sah is stabled for the evening and won’t be joining us.”

His throne moves slowly toward the back of the chamber, where a circular portal connects the main stage to the party room. As we follow Karanos, the Death practitioner judge on the skeletal throne continues to stare at me, his long, black hair a severe frame for his face. I can’t tell if he wants to murder me or just talk.

“Can’t you go any faster?” I murmur.

“The thrones aren’t meant to go fast,” Karanos says before lowering his voice. “Besides, the slower we go, the later dinner starts, and the better Kuin’s fury.”

That earns him a smirk from another ascendant judge, the olive-skinned woman on the throne of winged shadows who gives off the impression of a raven queen. She was heading back toward the viewing area, but now swivels the chair around to face us.

“Will you be joining us, Mordika?” Karanos asks.

“Can I bring Krath?”

The Death ascendant on the skeletal throne–presumably Krath–raises an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Karanos says lightly, looking between the two of them.

Maria and I share a look. Sounds to me like he wants them to come, she says.

Karanos has a surprisingly large number of friends despite his resting bitch face, I add.

Maria presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows. You speak about him like he’s a schoolgirl. She pauses. Ascendant Holiday’s plan for an ascendant academy feels more real with each passing day. Did you hear that Vik’s sponsor, Ascendant Opal, is now advocating for one?

Why?

To curry Crimson Teeth’s favor.

I roll my eyes. Holiday is rather excitable.

“Karanos, why don’t you tell us about your protege?” Mordika says, interrupting our private conversation.

Karanos dispels his throne and lands lightly on the floor under the portal to the room where Maria and I mingled with the other proteges earlier. Since the portal is on the ceiling, he cranes his neck. “You already know who Ian is.”

Mordika gives him an unimpressed look and remains seated. “Then at least introduce us, won’t you?”

He sighs and averts his gaze, staring at the Dark practitioner. “Very well. Ian and Maria, on the throne of shadows sits Ascendant Mordika, master of Dark, and on the throne of bones sits Ascendant Krath Mandur, master of Death. Any questions?”

Mordika pinches the bridge of her nose, attracting Karanos’ attention. He gazes at her impassively. “Is there a problem?”

“That introduction was as cold and dry as your face.”

Karanos’ mouth quirks into a slight smile. “Mordika is not only master of Dark, but master of mud. She spent two straight months escaping a mud pit larger than some planets.”

Mordika hops down and the throne burns up like black, smokeless paper, disappearing. She rubs her shoulder against Karanos’s arm, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Speaking of embarrassments, let’s not forget that time you wound up in the clutches of that harlot Suncloud. Didn’t it take you years to escape?”

Does she not realize that Karanos and Suncloud have a...thing for one another? Maria wonders.

Guess not. I recall Suncloud’s memories and how she cornered and harassed Karanos in the wilderness like a crazy stalker. Though it might not be a stretch to say that Karanos had to escape Suncloud.

Karanos ignores Mordika’s provocation and leaps up, disappearing into the portal. Mordika follows behind him.

Krath comes down from his chair, the bones and socketed soul gems swirling into a void storage hooked to his belt. In profile, his pale, hooked nose is stark against the straight, dark hair that falls halfway down his back. Pronounced eyebrows frame eyes the color of ice.

Krath shakes his head at the ceiling before following Karanos and Mordika up, muttering to himself. “Both of you are exhausting.”

I hover myself and Maria through the portal. When we emerge, Karanos is pressed up against the wall. Mordika has one hand on his throat, the other on his abdomen, her lips nearly brushing against his cheek. Krath watches them with an unimpressed expression.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Karanos mutters, disengaging himself with an elegant twist.

Maria gives me a look, but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to–we’re on the same page. It’s exactly what it looks like.

Mordika exhales sharply, but doesn’t say anything to justify herself.

Karanos leads us through the citadel down an unfamiliar corridor, going in the opposite direction from which we originally arrived. He’s going at the speed of a mortal, fully committed to taking his sweet time and pissing Kuin off by being late to dinner.

Krath surprises me by seizing my hand, his fingers warm and dry, almost leathery. He peers at my limb like it’s an artifact. “Many choose either the road of the soul, or the flesh,” he murmurs. “The roads diverge dramatically at the outset.”

I incline my head. “With all the time in the world to obtain mastery, I assume ascendants don’t suffer the quandary of choice.”

Krath’s smile is devoid of warmth. “Even so, we have preferences. You practice both.”

“Is that a problem?”

“For your age, it’s unexpected.” He flexes his grip, squeezing my palm, and his eyes snap up to meet mine. “Fight me with everything you have.”

Without any other warning, his energy surges into me, foreign and destructive. His call to arms is unnecessary–I would fight back without being told. I don’t sense any ascendant energy in his onslaught, so I refrain from imbuing my defense with it, relying only on my practice.

In the beginning, I easily beat him back, preventing his energy from doing damage, but his attack only redoubles. He’s not just able to send a large volume of Death energy into me–energy that doesn’t seem to be sourced from any gems, but Krath himself–but he’s creative in how he uses that energy to reap destruction. Rather than going for obvious targets like my brain or heart, he tries to ruin me in other ways, like rupturing my pancreas or tying my intestines around my lungs. Engaged in our duel, we keep our languid pace behind Karanos and Mordika, the tensing of my shoulders the only sign that anything is amiss.

After five seconds of fighting him off, he retracts his energy, but keeps his grip. “You’re just as good at this side of Death as that one,” he says, inclining his head toward Maria.

I bark a laugh, not sure whether to be proud or insulted. “I should hope the former is better than the latter–my necromancy is relatively elementary.” Compared to decemancy, I’ve only been studying necromancy for a few months.

He deadpans. “You’re going to call your lich elementary?”

“I animated her,” I retort. “A simple incantation fueled by desperation. Her fire elementalism, End affinity, and ascendant energy are all her own–she held the same power before her resurrection.”

The vital signature of a quadruped fish enters my range–Crystal. She isn’t alone–a man lounges on a divan next to her, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket and wearing oversized plush slippers. They’re both staring up at some kind of flat box, though I can’t tell what it is using vital vision. I’m somewhat surprised that Crystal isn’t already reaching out into my mind to inquire about the pageant.

As we enter the room, Crystal jumps up and kicks a circular device with eight buttons off to the side, denting the wall.

“It’s not my fault you’re bad at Splatattack,” the man taunts, kicking out his legs. Like Kuin, the man’s mouth cracks open to reveal elongated, needle-like incisors. A tall, searingly-yellow collar reaches over his chin, the hue dulling the pigment of his yellow eyes so they look almost amber in comparison. The blanket wrapped over his shoulders and his enormous slippers all bear that blinding neon pigment. Contrasting with the oversaturated vestments are the white and pink blossoms woven into his brown, gently curling hair.

He presses one of the buttons on his own controller and the sound of artillery sounds from several feet away.

My eyes snap up to the box that he and Crystal had been peering at. It’s like a glosscomp display, except the colors are more solid and rich, like I’m watching a moving painting rather than an almost-solid illusion. Two figures are visible on the display–a black fox with a missile launcher strapped to its back and an outrageously buff man with a handlebar mustache, his hands coated in sputtering fire. The fox hops on the man’s back, planting his face into the ground. Blood pools around his cheek on what looks like an elementary school tarmac.

Crystal rubs her pectoral fins against my legs as she saunters over. “I do not have fingers–I am at an obvious disadvantage.” Her eyes shine with need. “Could you create removable fingers for me?”

I–what?

“Kidding.”

I snort in incredulity.

Karanos, Mordika, and Krath freeze and watch the lounging man with guarded expressions. Karanos bows his head and doesn’t say anything, as though waiting for the yellow-garbed figure to speak first.

Maria’s eyes widen and I sense surprise over our bond. This isn’t Karanos being polite. We sense a difference in him–a grave deference.

“Void Seeker,” the man says, his smile whimsical. “You bring interesting companions this year.” His eyes lock on me. “Crystal has told me about you–the slayer of Ascendant Ari and student of her master.”

Karanos keeps his eyes on the ground, while Mordika and Krath duck adroitly beyond the room’s threshold as though dismissed.

Do as Karanos does, Maria says, nudging me. I don’t think he expected this ascendant to be here with Crystal, else he would have said something.

Why doesn’t Crystal explain anything?

Her silence must be intentional, Maria replies. Guard your thoughts–this man may have a Remorse affinity.

Her words draw attention to the fact that I don’t know what kind of practitioner this man is. Usually vital signatures give it away, but this man’s vital signature is placid, like that of a regular. I’ve never seen an ascendant’s signature look like that before.

Crystal, hint please? I implore.

“Be yourself–respectfully.”

At least that’s something. “Might I have your name?” I ask, fixing my eyes on the floor.

“You may,” he says. As he speaks his pale eyes flash with the colors of the rainbow, like an oil slick. “I am Ancient Ash, master of fire, mind, earth, vitality, and fate.”

I let that sink in for a moment.

“Sun, Beginning, Life, and End affinities, with fire and earth elementalism,” Crystal clarifies, as though listing out his affinities will dispel my bewilderment.

He has four affinities?

“To move from ascendant to ancient, you must master three,” Crystal answers.

How is that even possible?

“With time–unfathomable rivers of time.”

Floria has clearly lived for a long time, I say. She doesn’t have four affinities!

“Time is the crucible, but will is the fire.”

Ash stands up and walks before me, moving with grace despite his clownish slippers. Standing tall, his blanket falls to the side. The collar that covers his neck is stitched into a girdle made of leather and decorative gold chains, revealing his bare torso. His skin is decorated by black tattoos. “You are a young one, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “I was like you when I ascended, bearing one affinity–Life.”

His girdle-thing is possibly the most bizarre article of clothing I’ve ever seen–who connects a tall, thick, bright yellow collar to a few strips of leather? Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of his tattoos move–a feline eye winking at me.

“We share another similarity, Ascendant Dunai. Care to take a guess?” His gaze is feral, imperious, but not menacing.

A similarity with Ash? At first glance we’re nothing alike–the man is an alien presence, his clothes and mannerisms unsettling. We don’t have any affinities in common.

There’s no rational explanation for what pops into my mind, but an idea quickly takes root and refuses to leave, falling from my lips. “You gained your power in a time loop.” I swallow as my eyes drift to the jumping black fox on the screen. “A game.”

Karanos’ brow furrows.

“We are both people who were never supposed to awaken,” Ash says. “How many times did you have to die?”

I shake my head–I know what he’s asking, but I don’t know the answer. I don’t know exactly how many times I died before I awakened. “More than twenty, less than fifty?”

He looks at me intently, his presence so overpowering I cease breathing. The spell breaks as Ash steps away and plops backwards onto the divan. He yanks at one of his slippers, liberating one foot, then the other, to reveal relatively normal feet–though his nails are thick and pointed, like claws.

Ash’s gaze falls on Crystal. Suddenly, he bursts into laughter. “Let’s go–I didn’t come all this way to be late to dinner.”