Time passes quickly after the menus are passed out. Ash is relatively quiet for the rest of the dinner, watching and listening.

Soon the plates are clean and the conversation hits a lull. Kuin stands up and flicks a knife across his empty wine glass. “There has been a change of plans for the night due to the arrival of Ancient Ash. He has graciously offered to adjudicate the final round of the pageant.”

He what?

Ash stands up, attracting all eyes. By now, people should be used to his scorpion suit, but a few people still gawk.

“I’ll be leading the proteges on a hunt,” he says, his lips curling into something between a well-meaning smile and a brutal sneer. “Each of them may bring a guide, who must be selected from the ascendants in attendance, and cannot be their sponsor. The guide is not allowed to interfere aside from giving advice.”

Kuin bows his head. “And where will the hunt take place?”

“Our destination is the Vizier’s Crown, a place I’d almost forgotten about until recently. Ascendant Karanos has agreed to lend his support to transport everyone. We leave in two hours–assemble in the welcome hangar for departure. Proteges–choose your mentors wisely. It’s not often you get the opportunity to learn from other ascendants who aren’t your sponsors. I will be personally mentoring the frontrunner.”

Ash suddenly disappears, an after image sparking with red ascendant energy left in his wake.

Maria, Ketu, and I all get up from our seats. I look over and see that Karanos is taking one last sip of his wine. He stands up and his chair automatically pushes itself in, some kind of array programming its path.

“This is a good opportunity for you,” he says. “Maria–for this challenge, Ash said you should count as an independent competitor, rather than as Ian’s construct. You, too, can find a mentor.” He turns to me. “Ian–you already know who I want you to pick.”

I nod. Krath. Surveying the room, half are still seated, though all linger nearby, respecting Ash’s wishes that they be available to the protege ascendants.

“Unfortunately, I need to leave to plan the path to Vizier’s Crown. It’s far from here.”

Maria and I share a questioning look. “Didn’t Kuin give you notice?”

Karanos barks a laugh. “Of course not. First I heard about this was when Ash made his little announcement.”

How very...Ash. “Do you have any recommendations for Maria’s mentor?” I ask.

He lowers his voice. “Quite frankly, I’m a bit, er, out of touch with many of the attendees here. There are many with Sun and or End affinity, but as I’m not close to any of them, I can’t recommend anyone in particular. However, you are an End practitioner, Maria–see with whom you have fate.”

That being said, Karanos makes his exit, leaving us alone with Crystal.

Do you need my help finding someone? I ask Maria.

I can handle it–Crystal is going to assist me. Go talk to Krath.

Krath Mandur seems unsurprised when I approach him, though his bitter expression doesn’t bode well. “Hello, Ascendant Dunai.”

I bow my head. “Ascendant Krath. I was hoping–”

“That I would mentor you?”

Obviously. “Yes.”

“You have talent, there’s no doubt there,” he says, inspecting his nails–they’re painted black. “Tell me why it’s worth my time to follow you across the cosmos.”

I was never any good at job interviews, and this feels like one. Y’jeni, can’t you just say yes and avoid this song and dance? “I need an artifact specialist who also has a Death affinity. Of everyone here, Karanos says that you are the most qualified. I don’t know how I can convince you it’s worth your time, but you would have my gratitude.”

I cringe inwardly. Very smooth, Ian.

“You know, a long time ago, I used to work as an auctioneer. Was one of my first jobs, long before I came into my own as a practitioner.” He smirks. “It’s not the most impressive thing I’ve ever done, but it taught me how to sell things. You need to work on your sales pitch, Ian.”

My eyes widen. Ian is a big step up from the formal address of Ascendant Dunai. “So...?”

He groans. “I will help you, but in return I want to be able to study your lich. She’s the first I have ever seen who can use ascendant energy.”

Maria, can Krath study you?

Do I look like a lab rat to you?

I blink. “I’m fine with it, but she has to agree.”

Krath smiles. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

I exhale in relief. I guess that was another test of character. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Ian, I think we found someone,” Crystal interjects. “Come look! And bring your new friend.”

Looking at a smirking Krath Mandur, I’m not sure friend is the right word.

—

At this point, Crystal has completely given up trying to act like a non-sapient and sends her thoughts to our entire expanded party: me, Maria, Krath Mandur, and a woman named Farona Pyre–or simply Ascendant Pyre–who has both Sun and End affinity. She’s a diminutive woman who is one of the only people that actually looks old. Not ancient–she isn’t a granny–but like she’s in her 50’s. In some ways, she almost reminds me of Mother with her steel-gray hair clasped into a tight bun, but her black sclera and orange irises kill the resemblance.

I certainly wouldn’t have thought to approach her out of all the ascendants in the room, but fate had other plans.

Pyre is a chatterbox–far more so than Krath, though she brings it out in him. “You little shit,” she grunts, nudging him roughly with an elbow. “You’re the fucker who bought out the last of the artifacts at Hojj’s Bazaar?”

Krath rolls his eyes. “Please–that was twenty years ago, Farona.”

“He did not even need them,” Crystal says. “He sold them all a year later.”

Pyre’s jaw drops. “Thank you for that information, Crystal.” She gives the fish an affectionate–but probably somewhat painful–noogie on the head. She’s the kind of person I could see pinching cute kids’ cheeks and leaving a bruise. “I think we’re going to become fast friends.” The grin she gives to Krath is predatory. “Watch your mind, Mandur. Crystal’s always watching.”

He glares indignantly at Pyre. “As if I’d relax my mental defenses.” He then shoots Crystal a look of dismay. “I told you that in confidence!”

“I was not aware that knowledge was a secret. Apologies.”

I suppress a snort. Sure you didn’t. Crystal is 100% messing with Krath.

You’re fairly quiet, Maria observes.

You, too.

She twines her hand with mine. It’s relaxing to let the others do the talking for once. I confess that I already miss our private time together, alone under whatever sky, beyond the reach of Karanos and Crystal.

Maybe we’ll get a chance on this hunt. I wish we knew more about it, but I guess it’s going to be pretty involved. I’m surprised Ash is even bothering to do this.

“He only decided to during dinner,” Crystal says.

Wait, what?

“He asked me to contact Kuin and inquire about it, and of course Kuin agreed. The more time that the faction’s ascendants get with Ash, the better. It is not often that ancients come out of the woodwork.”

So it wasn’t just that Karanos was informed about the plan last minute–the entire plan was extremely last minute.

Very Ash.

As a group, we’ve already changed our clothes at one of the halls of reflection, shedding the extravagant for the practical. Maria and I put on what we were wearing before. Krath dons rugged black armor, distinct from the cloth robes he wore as a pageant observer. Where before Krath looked tall and well-muscled, but not particularly bulky, the heavy armor makes him look like an unstoppable juggernaut. Inscriptions glow fel green all across the armor plates.

Pyre scrutinizes his armor as she gears up into a modest navy skirt that trails down to her knees and a baby pink chiffon blouse. She looks like a receptionist, but has the rough, slightly hoarse voice of a sports coach.

“Who did these inscriptions for you?” she asks. “Where’d you get them?”

“Ascendant Floodfall,” he replies drily. “Using my energy.”

She sniffs. “Floodfall’s a quack. Inscriptions are your design, then?”

He brushes his bangs out of his eyes and ties his long hair with a strip of pale blue cloth. “Obviously.”

Pyre points to me and Maria. “Listen here, in case you don’t already know. You never know what kind of backwards planes ascendants hail from.” She puts her hands on her hips. “You don’t need to be an End practitioner to design inscriptions–you just need one to ink them.

“Exactly–even regulars can design arrays,” I say. “And with a reservoir of End energy, you can automate inscribing arrays. One End practitioner can power tens of inscribers for hours.” Though those arrays are more limited than the kind Euryphel or Maria might make. Oaths can’t be made that way, and mass-produced array circuits simply can’t hold the amount of energy as one made by a single, dedicated practitioner. But that’s where good design work comes into play–array designs that maximize efficiency.

The advent of the glossY, Maria transmits.

Farona Pyre nods her head sharply. “Good! I didn’t expect much of a newly-ascended Death practitioner. Your sort tends to focus more on your own constructs and less on arrays.” She inclines her head toward Krath Mandur conspiratorially. “I pick on him, ya know, but he’s one of the good ones.”

Krath facepalms.

These two seem more familiar than I expected. Do they have a history? “How do you two know each other?”

Krath’s palm slips down, revealing eyes that look exhausted. “I followed her around for a hundred years, way back when.”

Pyre nods. “It’s pretty typical for younger faction members to indenture themselves out to older, wiser ascendants, exchanging servitude for knowledge.”

Krath scoffs. “An indentured servant? That is wildly inaccurate. It was more of an assistant position.”

Pyre just smiles sweetly, the kind of smile that says, “it’s okay to be wrong.”

—

As we enter the welcome hangar, Karanos is near one of the walls with Ash and Sah. I thought we’d be leaving the dragon behind–are we traveling through the void?

Sah immediately perks up when he spots Crystal and bounds across the room. The gathered ascendants evade his charge, shooting Karanos dubious expressions.

While Crystal communicates silently with Sah, the last of the ascendant proteges and their mentors file in. Sponsors line the back wall, watching the congregation with a mixture of amusement, distaste, and disinterest.

“Everyone is here,” Ash exclaims. “We’re going to Abyssinia as our initial launching point. From there, Karanos and I will carve a way through the planes. Be prepared to travel through the void–Vizier’s Crown is a long way if we only go through traditional channels.” He smiles cheerfully. “I prefer to take shortcuts.”

I glance at Sah. Explains what Karanos was thinking. I direct my next thoughts toward Crystal. Is Sah going to be safe on this journey? Wait, are you going to be safe? I hadn’t even questioned whether Crystal should be tagging along–she’d effectively invited herself.

“I will be fine. Ash invited me to come.”

He did?

“Yes. And I asked him to protect Sah.”

And he just...agreed?

“I can be persuasive.”

I just stare at her giant fish face, at those glassy, expressionless eyes and whiskered mouth. Somehow this terrestrial, mind-reading fish has managed to win over every ascendant she’s come across.

“My charm is my superpower,” she adds, swishing her tail fin.

Ash makes a clawed fist and scratches out at the sky. Like Karanos, his ascendant energy isn’t readily visible–it almost looks like he’s just clawing at thin air. But as his nails scrape the sky, the world tears like paper and disintegrates out, like acid is eating away at the threshold. The fringes of the tear glow red, like the edges of smoldering paper. The energy vestiges prevent the plane from healing itself, keeping it open.

The other plane is difficult to see from where we stand, but it almost looks like it’s a mirror image of our current plane. Ash and Karanos enter first; everyone else walks unhurried across the threshold.

Sah’s throat glows yellow as he approaches the tear in the veil, but Crystal hurries him through. When we emerge on the other side, we’re in an almost identical welcome hangar, though beyond the immediate vicinity I sense far more living beings–not ascendants, but regular denizens of Eternity. The welcome hangar in Abyssinia is at the center of a small city.

“Are the natives aware of the faction’s existence?” I wonder as we walk toward the hangar exit. A few regulars are maintaining the premises, sweeping and dusting. It seems unnecessary given that the same activities could be automated by constructs.

“Not really,” Mandur says. “They know that ascendants pass through, but if they understood the full scope of activity they might all just leave.”

Pyre grunts. “Any one of us could turn this city to dust–it’s not pleasant to think about. You think that hasn’t happened?”

I grimace. “I’d hope not, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

She chuckles darkly. “This is the fifth iteration of Abyssinia. Make of that what you will.”

My stomach drops. I turn to Maria and she wears a stoic expression, but she reaches and squeezes my arm. Even on our world, Ian, cities rose and fell over thousands of years, too many times to count. Five times in however long the faction has been stationed here isn’t terrible.

But the city likely wasn’t just sacked, Maria–knowing ascendants, it was probably obliterated, and everyone exterminated.

She doesn’t respond.

When we exit the hangar, Ash jumps up and lands on the hangar’s roof, a fixture of red and brown bricks adorned by masterful gargoyle statues depicting snarling, stylized beasts. From the rooftop, the whole of Abyssinia stretches out before us, for the center of the city rests on a tall hill that slopes down radially in all directions. It reminds me of Nuremvark. The fringes of the city disappear into white fog.

“Welcome to Abyssinia, Ian, Maria, Crystal,” Karanos says, Crystal relaying his thoughts. “Not that we’ll be here long.”

As though on cue, Ash nods his head toward Karanos. The two extend their hands out perpendicular to one another, locking eyes. Mirroring each other’s movements, they scrape the sky up and around, creating a semicircle, their fingers converging at the top of the arc. Then they slice down and pull inward, but the plane doesn’t tear–it just distends, growing thin.

Then they dash forward faster than my perception can follow, the fabric of the plane twisting and breaking, forging a path ringed by multiple shorn worlds.

Here we go.