Our group covers ground faster than when Maria and I first entered Eternity. Ascendant energy is one factor, but we also have Vik’s wind elementalism assisting.

“I didn’t realize how big this plane was when we set out,” Alan groans. “It’s been seven hours already and no trace of the centipede.” He kicks at a withered tree, shattering it into charcoal-like crumbles. “How is that possible, given the beast’s size?”

Alan makes a good point. If Karanos’ Light projection was to scale–and knowing his perfectionism, it would be–then odds are that us, or another group of ascendants, would have located and engaged it by now.

And yet, the plane is relatively calm.

Until someone finds the centipede, there’s little incentive to go around killing ascendants, Maria thinks. That just reduces the number of scouts. Once someone finds it, though...

It’ll be a bloodbath, I finish. We’ve already crossed paths with Ketu, and he barely gave us a nod of acknowledgment. His demeanor when on the prowl was night and day from his showing at dinner, when he was out of his element. Ash trailed silently after him with a solemn expression, as though judging Ketu’s every move.

I have no doubt that if we’re the ones to find the centipede, Ketu will come to assassinate us and take the prize.

Or at least he’ll try to.

Sharing a nonviolent evening with Ketu largely abated my anger from being bested, but it didn’t dull my desire to win. He’s more powerful and more experienced, but that’s why I have allies–to bridge the gap. And while we haven’t been an ensemble for long–just a few hours–everyone is surprisingly easy to work with.

I guess that’s what happens when everyone is on the same level. Back when I was fighting the SPU’s war, the princes and guardians were powerful, but I still felt like I was pulling more than my own weight. When I was on the field, I was the one who decided victory or defeat.

In retrospect, it was a lot of pressure to put on someone who’d lived the past four years in a world without consequences–someone who had never been responsible for anyone else in his entire life. It only proves how desperate the SPU really was.

What’s wrong? Maria asks.

I frown. Nothing, why?

I sense your anger. Is it still about Ketu?

No. It’s about what happened before Eternity. I’ve voiced some of my reservations to Maria before. About how I feel like I was taken advantage of, at least a bit.

A bit? Without you, they would have lost. The SPU obviously took advantage of your alliance with Euryphel. Her gaze softens. But don’t misunderstand. You let that happen. You had all the power and leverage, but you let yourself be led around, allowed them to dictate your battles.

So it’s my fault?

Maria grabs onto Sah and boosts him forward, helping the dragon to stay with the group. I’m saying that what the princes did to you wasn’t personal. You didn’t know how to play the game, Ian. Had you played your hand better–refusing to give more of yourself than they deserved–the SPU probably would have lost, Selejo would have won, and I’d still be back home with my boy.

I narrow my eyes. That’s exactly the problem, though–I didn’t want the SPU to lose.

Because of your prince?

I snort. He’s not “my prince.”

You let yourself get attached, and not to the country, but to its leader. Am I wrong to call him your prince, when you’d rather win his wars than let him lose?

The buildup of dust in my mouth tastes like ash and dirt. Talking to Maria is only making me feel worse. I’m suddenly overcome by the compulsion to visit Messeras–to sit down at his bungalow, drink his soup, and let my worries fall away. I’d even be able to check on Jimmy.

There’s obviously no time to visit him now, but I flip out my plane compass–the one that points to veil vulnerabilities. The needle points straight ahead, its tip wavering when I move my hand, indicating that a vulnerability is close. I have no map of Vizier’s Crown, and no way of knowing whether this is the vulnerability that leads to Messeras’ vale of flowers and lizard bats.

“Wait,” I murmur, part of the solution to this hunt clicking into place. “What if the centipede isn’t on this plane at all?”

We stop our advance. The mentors look on with impassive gazes as everyone gathers to discuss.

“Why would Ash and Karanos bring us here if the centipede is elsewhere?” Alan asks, frowning. He pulls his pink cape over his arms as though trying to warm up.

“Humor me for a moment,” I say. “Here’s what we know so far about the centipede. It’s some kind of mutant. Its parent was enormous. It’s able to subsist off of energy from this plane’s nethereal skylights. Finally, it isn’t just lying around in plain sight. Anything else?”

Silence.

“Right. But there’s something funny about how it gets its energy, something I hadn’t considered until now.” I point up to the gray sky. “There are clouds covering this entire plane. What little light comes off of the coil of energy above is filtered through the clouds. It isn’t enough light to sustain life, and I doubt it’s enough to keep a giant centipede going.”

Vik raises an eyebrow. “Almost sounds like you think the centipede is flying above, rather than lurking in the dirt. That’s impossible, though–I would have sensed if there was a giant flying insect overhead, clouds or no clouds.”

“That’s where I was also stuck. But there’s one more clue.”

Maria absently rubs Sah’s neck, then freezes, her mouth popping open. “Karanos told us to bring Sah...because we’d be traveling through the void.”

I nod. “That’s as far as I got before I was stumped again. If the centipede is somehow in the void, that doesn’t explain how it gets its energy from the nethereal skylight.”

“I think our answer might present itself if we reach the edge of this plane,” Marcus interjects. “But not the fringes.” He looks up. “The top.”

Our mentors, silent until now, weigh in. “You’re right that the centipede isn’t in the earth or sky,” Jeseria says, crossing her arms under her chest.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping us?” Alan asks, meeting the eyes of our mentors. “You’ve all been quiet this entire time.”

Farona Pyre barks a laugh. “You aren’t yet attempting anything that we can help with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marcus asks pointedly. He fixes his gaze on his mentor, Ascendant Mordika. “Enlighten me.”

Mordika smiles without humor. “Karanos was quite clear about relaying what we can–and can’t–do to help. If all you’re going to do is run around in the hopes of stumbling upon your quarry, well…”

Krath Mandur exhales sharply. “Look, you’re on the right track. Keep going. Think of it this way–you haven’t qualified to receive our mentorship at this point.” Looking at me, his thin lips curl into a savage smile. “Don’t disappoint us.”

—

The higher we fly, the clearer the coil of light in the sky becomes. It slowly shifts in place, the intensity of its violet glow ebbing and flowing along its length. It has no clear beginning or end–if you trace the light’s length, it becomes apparent that it’s a loop, albeit one that’s been stretched long and thin.

Vik transmits our thoughts as we fly with her wind elementalism.

“The closer we get, the farther away it seems,” Alan observes, gritting his teeth, his arms straining. While Vik’s practice could keep us all aloft, Marcus and Alan travel more efficiently by riding Sah. Riding might not be the right word, though–Sah pulls them forward like a packhorse while the two men grasp Crystal’s harness with white knuckles.

Since the atmosphere is thin, Vik uses her ascendant energy to force a plume of wind to soar with us, shaping it into a giant phoenix. With the wind phoenix buoying us forward, it only takes a few minutes until the air thins completely and we enter the darkness of space.

Behind us, Jeseria mimics Vik, carrying up the other ascendant mentors, her expression thoughtful, as though she wishes to say something but can’t.

The void comes upon us too quickly–I breathe in sharply, filling my lungs on instinct, even though I know now that doing so is an invitation for them to implode in the vacuum. Rather than suffering a painful death, Vik’s wind surges like a controlled hurricane, pressing against us and staving off the vacuum. Our hair and clothes ripple in the wind; I squint my eyes.

“Impeccable control,” Jeseria notes. In the blink of an eye, she’s among us, her hands on Jeseria’s shoulders. “Now see how I do it.”

Jeseria’s eyes glow cyan with unbridled power. Rather than blasting us with more wind, Jeseria smothers Vik’s gail. The wind stills, though I still feel a pressure on my body, like I’ve been plunged underwater. After a second, even that sensation abates, and I feel like I’m merely standing on a mountain at high altitude. Around the edges of our group, red ascendant energy flickers.

Jeseria’s practice ensconces us in a protective air shell. It’s almost like a small, portable atmosphere.

This is so much better than what I can do, I think to Maria. Who knew wind elementalists had it so easy when it comes to traveling through the void.

Free from the plane’s gravitational pull, a small gust of wind is all it takes to propel Jeseria back to the other mentors. As she contracts her wind shell, Vik takes over our protection, humming, circling thrums of air enveloping us in a thin blue glow–Vik’s ascendant energy. This time she manages to keep her wind more subdued. It tugs at our clothes, but the stabilizing effect of her ascendant energy at the periphery is noticeable. Without the wind blasting us, the void is almost hot, several degrees warmer than room temperature.

“Isn’t it supposed to be frigid in the void?” Maria asks, one step further along in her thought process. With Vik’s wind shell, we can speak normally, no longer relying on her practice to relay subvocalized thoughts.

“The void isn’t cold by definition,” Marcus says, his eyes scathing. As though sensing his negative attitude, Sah spins in place, pumping his legs. Marcus and Alan tighten their grips on Sah’s harness, but the spiraling motion sends the two smacking into one another.

Good dragon, Maria says over our bond.

I cover my mouth and avert my eyes, suppressing a chuckle.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Marcus continues: “Imagine approaching a star–won’t it be hot as you approach?” He faces the violet lights. “If this were a star, we’d all be dead from the heat. Or at least you all would–I’d just turn myself incorporeal.”

Back in the war, Prime Ko’la and General Var’dun’a utilized their Dark affinities to turn our force invulnerable to heavy artillery and energy attacks. Reason stands that they could jump into magma and escape unscathed, provided they maintained their incorporeal state long enough.

“That’s great, Marcus, but also irrelevant,” Vik interjects. “We all have our own ways of surviving extreme temperatures. Anyway, I still don’t sense the centipede.”

I flip open the plane compass still clutched in my hand. The arrow wavers between two directions–one at 45 degrees east of north, the other at 240 degrees, in almost the exact opposite direction.

I look down. If one of the arrows is the same as the one the compass detected on the surface, then it’s possible that the other one only came within the compass’ range as we left the plane’s surface. I twist my hand and one of the arrows moves more acutely than the other, mimicking the sensitivity of the arrow on the surface. Since we flew straight up, the sensitive arrow–the one angled at 45 degrees–should be the same arrow as before.

“The centipede isn’t in the earth or sky,” I repeat. “And it’s not in the void–at least not close by.” I hold up the compass for everyone to see and point to the left, where the arrow bobs to 240 degrees. “What if it passes time in another, connected plane?”

I notice Krath Mandur nodding slowly from the side, offering a reserved form of encouragement.

“Only ascendants can tear the veil,” Alan argues.

Vik inclines her head. “Well, if we’re being technical, ascendant energy.”

They’re on the wrong track. “Have any of you ever been to the lost quadrant?”

Alan’s nose wrinkles. “Ascendant Kuin hates that place. Says it’s a convoluted tangle.”

“Ascendant Opal calls it a trap zone,” Vik agrees. “In other words, somewhere to avoid.”

I turn to Marcus. “And you?”

“Never been,” he says coldly.

I raise an eyebrow. “You’d think an invulnerable Dark practitioner would be more willing to try his luck in such a place.”

His lip curls. “Perhaps eventually.”

“Did Ascendant Karanos take you there?” Vik asks, her brow furrowing.

“If you knew him, it wouldn’t come as a surprise,” I mutter, peering over at the mentor peanut gallery. “One thing you might not know about the lost quadrant is that it’s ringed by persistent portals that look just like rift openings, the kind that would manifest back on our home worlds, beyond Eternity. Any creature in the vicinity could pass through, not just ascendants.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Vik says.

“That’s part of why the lost quadrant interests Karanos: There are anomalies there that we can’t understand.” I scratch my head. “Look, I’m not saying that such a portal happens to be here, but if none of you have a better idea, why not investigate this veil vulnerability, see if we get any clues?”

What Alan says next surprises me. “Hold on, why does Karanos care about the lost quadrant, and why did he take you there? Haven’t you only been in Eternity for a year?”

I glance at Maria. “To answer your first question, Karanos is an expert on rift theory. As far as I can tell, he’s invested a lot of time charting the lost quadrant and trying to understand its unstable planes. To answer the second question, well...our relationship with Karanos is a bit...

Maria finishes: “Complicated.”

I nod. What an understatement. “We have a mutual agreement.”

“Is it something to do with Ascendant Ari?” Vik asks.

Shaking my head dismissively, I reply, “Not supposed to talk about it.”

“How could someone so new already have secrets?” Marcus muses.

I snort. “Not by choice.”

Maria claps her hand together. “So, can we investigate this veil vulnerability or not?” She gestures to the mentors.

They all nod in unison, even Alan's weird, mute Mountain mentor. Farona Pyre hoots something, not that we can hear it–the mentors are enveloped in Jeseria’s separate protective bubble, and their voices won’t reach us through the void.

Vik smirks. “Alright, good enough for me. Lead the way, Dunai. I can’t wait to see the expression on Ketu’s face when we beat his ass to the prize.”

Did she really just say that? Maria says. We’re jinxed.

Seriously? You believe in jinxing things?

I believe in fate, she retorts. And it’s usually best not tempted.