Past midnight, a nibble figure slipped into Raven’s room. He couldn’t sleep bothered by Cuk-relayed news. A whisper startled him.

“Do you sleep?”

“No. Rivel … is that you?”

“Of course, it’s me, you dumbass.”

Raven forced himself into a sitting position. The only light in the room entered through the window. The ever-clear sky was thickly overcast with stars. In the gloom, Raven saw his sister’s face well enough to notice signs of upset. At first, he attributed the emotion to the news of the Emperor’s death. Then he reconsidered. Would his sister be sad because a very bad man had been killed? Unlikely.

“Why are you here? I thought that grandpa Kura forbade leaving our rooms,” Raven asked instead.

Rivel frowned, stood up, and went to the door. There she rummaged with a lock. Upon her return, Raven renewed his question. She sniffed at the mention of Kura.

“Why the old geezer can’t just drop dead?” Rivel asked. “I don’t care what he says.”

A flash of shock crossed Raven’s face.

“Rivel, you can’t be serious. Did you forget? They saved us.”

“Oh.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re gullible again. They’re liars, Raven. Don’t forget it.”

Raven used to clash with Rivel about this. Initially, he had been sure of being right, but tonight his confidence wavered, following the events in the arena.

“Okey. I get it, Rivel. But why did you come so late?”

His eyes adjusted to lingering darkness and he saw her grimacing. It looked like she struggled with herself. Now that’s weird. I’ve never seen her like this.

“Something’s up,” Rivel interrupted the stretching silence.

“Do you mean the assassination?”

“Assass—no. Who cares about the old Emperor?” Everyone? But Raven didn’t dare to interrupt his sister. “It’s the men the Black Hand invited. There is fighting and are screams.”

Fear surged in his veins. He imagined the Skinny walking through the door and telling them about the horrors was going to unleash. A shudder stole his calmness and he jumped to his feet.

“We must go to the Black Hand. We need to tell—”

“You dummy. Do you think he doesn’t know already? I bet, he and Lazaru tiding up the mess right now.”

“I don’t know, grandpa Kura said—”

He didn’t manage to finish the sentence. The door exploded inward. A wave of splinters crashed into Raven and he screamed as the pain flared up all over his body. A gasp next to him told him that his sister managed the pain better. A heartbeat later, he felt the air go dry and understood that Rivel was about to unleash her power.

“She’s here!” an unknown voice shouted back into the corridor, then a splash came down on them. Rivel cursed and Raven realized what happened. Oh no. Water negates her power. No…

Hulking, completedly covered figures entered the room. It left a little space. Rivel fought, but her effort proved futile against the brutal strength of intruders. They subdued her, tucked under an arm, and proceeded to the door.

“What about the boy?”

“Irrevelant.”

Raven watched with disbelief as the kidnappers stormed off the room. Oblivious to the passing time Raven’s mind struggled to process what just had happened and couldn’t. The Black Hand appeared and woke up him out of the trance.

“Where’s the girl?” he asked, holding Raven’s shoulder. The boy blinked, seeing the big boss for the first time. “I … I don’t know … men crashed the door and took her and … water … they…”

“…splashed water on you? I see. It’s okay, lad. Stay here. The old man was padding somewhere behind me. He should be here anytime now.” The Black Hand let go of Raven and left. Hollowness replaced disbelief and then the flicker of rage willed its existence into darkness. We’ve made a promise to look after one another, watch each other’s back. And I stood there and did nothing. Already the reality and figment of Raven’s mind started melding together. His gaze swept the room. The signs of the intrusion were obvious, the splinters of the door and gleaming patches of wet surfaces on the floor. The intruders came with a deadly swiftness and disappeared before… before I could react. Still, I should at least try to do something. He fed the rage and in return, the anger surged inside him. The grandpa Kura would be here any second… But I can’t wait for him. I must save Rivel.

Raven stepped outside, echoes of voices and footsteps rich in the air. I’m sorry, grandpa. I must go.

The Dreadnight fortress had only one way out – the Orin Gate. Once, Raven counted steps from his room to the gate – slightly above a thousand. Even so, he couldn’t match the speed of the kidnappers. Oh, but there is a shortcut. An old passage, running through the walls. He and Rivel have used it sometimes, and it seemed clear that neither grandpa nor the Black Hand knew about it. Raven rushed ahead, heedless to shouts and curses that came from behind. None of the secret passages have been lit, but he didn’t mind that. Soon, the surroundings became blur and Raven stumbled onto a marbled floor of the Chamber of Providence. Countless torches, ablaze with color-shifting, ever-dancing flames lifted the room out of the darkness. Though only the main, twenty paces wide, thoroughfare had been lit. Side naves, hidden behind marbled pillars, remained the bastions of blackness. The silence stretched the whole length of the chamber and the sudden fear almost quenched the anger in Raven’s chest. The massive exterior door at the end of the room stood closed. Raven wondered if he outran the kidnappers.

He didn’t.

The Black Hand shot through the chamber with mind-numbing speed. He cared nothing for the front door as he swung them open. The hinges gave in under the outward impetus and the door flew away. No, no. I’m late! Raven rushed toward the gate. Before the boy stepped outside, the sounds attacked him. A serious fight was in progress. Curses from many different throats blended into a singular discordant voice, seething with rage.

The Front Gardens were a mess. Snapped trees, shattered pottery, crushed tiles, and sprawled bodies carpeted the ground in every direction. Groups of fighters stumbled in the sight. Raven flinched, dread pulling him back, filling his limbs with lead. For a couple of heartbeats, he couldn’t move. Just another victim of ambition that crumbled under its own weight. He was losing the courage and he knew it. Rivel’s out there carried by her abductors … and I’m not even trying. His little fists clenched, and the first tears stole a gleam of stars. I must move on! Tentacles of fear retreated, Raven focused on the path ahead. It led directly to the Orin Gate. He couldn’t tell the distance to the gate, though it wasn’t far.

Ignored by the fighters, jumping between safe spots, Raven ran until the Orin Gate rose before his eyes. Mostly unmoving bodies waited on the ground there. The Boulevard of the Thirteen Spears extended thousands of paces to the left and right. Alongside the boulevard, a hundred paces apart stood the statues of men it had been named after. They belonged to the ancient past. Long gone rulers of the long-gone Empire of Sand. The history of which Raven knew very little and understood even less. Not contemplating the view, Raven headed closer toward the gate, which was nothing but a cavernous recess fashioned underneath the tower. It spaned at least seventy paces wide. Deep shadows swirled there. Raven’s come to halt when a conversation reached his ears.

“—and shall I kill him?” a familiar—Lazaru’s voice asked.

“No, idiot,” Skinny snapped, and Raven felt a chill in his marrow. What’s going on? What do they talk about? Raven edged the mouth of the recess and glanced inside. Bodies lay scattered over the cobbled floor. Above one of the bodies stood Lazaru, his red skin barely visible in the darkness. He faced Skinny’s round silhouette. There were other black-cladded men and … one of them held Rivel tucked under his arm. What is Lazaru doing? And where is Black Hand? He must’ve gone this way…

“This was reckless on your part,” Skinny continued. “Hitting him like this … what if he noticed? You’d jeopardize your entire mission.”

“Oh, spare me your sermons and show some gratitude! If not for me, you’d all be dead by now,” Lazaru hissed.

Skinny’s face tightened, invoking a hard smile. “One day we may have a chance to find out. But now is not the time. Our orders are clear on this. Especially, in the light of the recent developments.”

“You know who did this?”

“Did what?”

“Killed the Emperor.”

Skinny stood silent for a brief moment, then he nodded toward the men gathered behind him. They slipped through the gate out into the desert, unconscious Rivel with them. I must stop them. But how? I can’t fight those men. Where is Black Hand?

When the last man left, Skinny’s eyes fell on the lying shape at Lazaru’s feet and he spoke with a tight, clear voice, “you’re asking the wrong question Lazaru. It isn’t who killed that ancient bastard, but why and why now? I was told to accept Black Hand’s invitation and to gauge the gravity of his claim…”

“…but it isn’t all, is it?”

“No. A message had been delivered to me hours before my departure from Erynth. It warned of an imminent event that … will see the players on the board shuffled.”

“More like breaking the board. Who sent it?”

Skinny regarded the red-skinned man. “This, I don’t know,” he said eventually. “But the death of the Emperor indeed changes everything. The girl … and the future development of the experiment might prove the crucial asset in the incoming shuffle.”

Lazaru’s eyes narrowed on the round, huge man. “Lies. If you didn’t know about the Emperor’s death. How did you time the Tyt’s Sting? And why try to kill—”

“I didn’t,” Skinny cut in. “How could I… oh. So, it wasn’t planned by you. Someone else made its move then.”

A body at Lazaru’s feet stirred and both men froze. Lazaru waved the other man away. Skinny swiftly followed the voiceless advice. Ten heartbeats later Lazaru left the belly of the tower and strode onto the boulevard. Raven huddled against the wall, praying silently for Lazaru’s swift departure … and temporary blindness. Misjudging the man’s hearing, Raven jumped to his feet and stumbled into the recess. The gate remained open only a sliver, but enough for the light of the desert’s stars and a strong smell of salt to sneak in.

A few steps into the belly of the Orin Gate’s tower, the boy heard curses. A lot of curses and steps that followed them. Not glancing back, partially out of fear, partially because he didn’t care, he sped for the opening.

More curses behind, this time a different voice – Black Hand’s voice. Raven crossed the gate and found himself facing the endless sea of sand. A rampart of sorts or maybe a pier, Raven wasn’t sure, has been built to keep ever-advancing dunes at bay. Over one of the cobbled platforms hovered a desert craft, a phenomenon built to transport people across the desert with speed unmatched by the fastest mounts. Skinny was almost upon the ship. Raven’s breath caught and helplessness threatened to wash over him.

He darted toward the craft.

“Hey!” Raven shouted against a battering howl of the wind. “Stop there!”

A wooden platform unfolded, permitting Skinny’s entrance onto the craft’s board. It resembled the ordinary ship in this matter. Skinny put a foot on the platform and halted. His head turned toward Raven and eyes narrowed.

“I’ve heard all!” Raven screamed, emptying his lungs.

But the man didn’t seem focused on him. Raven stumbled, turning over in time to see Black Hand closing on him, behind trailed Lazaru. The betrayer.

Raven smiled. The big boss’ arrival meant that soon Rivel would be safe and sound. He was sorely surprised when the side flaps of the craft snapped open and shadows shot toward Black Hand. Snarling and clawing, the creatures closed on the huge alchemist. Suddenly, Raven was jerked up. Startled, his eyes met Lazaru’s angry face.

“What—” Raven’s voice faltered as the world surged around him. He flew, thrown by Lazaru with a dizzying strength. The shock not melted when Skinny’s hand brought him to an abrupt stop. Raven moaned as the pain rattled his body.

“Did you say something, little dud?” Skinny asked and without waiting for a reply threw him onto the deck.

“Ouch!” Raven cried, then he darted to his feet. One glance told him that Black Hand was almost free of the assaulting creatures.

It’s too late.

The craft’s sails unfurled, and the ship was jerked into motion.

“Big—” Raven didn’t finish the call as a hand appeared out of nowhere and slapped him. Pain bit his face and tears forced themselves out.

“Shut up! Thicky get us out of here, fast!” Skinny yelled.

“On it, sir.” A man thin as reed saluted. Long bony fingers took hold of a complex apparatus – levers and valves. Steam hissed and the craft began gaining altitude.

“Black Hand is on the move!” a boy wearing oversized googles cried as he leaned haphazardly over a rail.

“RASERA!”

The crew bustled around, panic painted on their faces. None of this interested him. The deck ran for sixty maybe seventy paces long. Masts, strange machinery, and wooden crates took more than half of the space. Raven’s gaze searched for Rivel. No one paid him any mind, at least until Thicky said with absolute composure, “we’re out of his reach. Unless. He can fly.”

“Don’t joke about, idiot.”

“No more jokes, sir. That is,” Thicky replied with indifference.

At that very moment, Raven found his sister. Unconscious and submerged to her neck in a barrel tied to the main mast. Oh. That can’t be…

“What is this brat doing here?” a man who walked out of the captain’s quarter asked. Numerous furs rested on his shoulders. One of his eyes was closed, the other one hidden behind a dark binocular. White mustaches covered his upper lip. Silk coat hid his girth, so Raven couldn’t tell the man’s posture.

In a heartbeat, before Raven could do as much as ask a question, a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the newcomer.

Skinny halted three paces from the man and let Raven fall on the deck.

“Didn’t I specify to not take BOTH?”

“The plan has changed at the last moment, high priest,” Skinny said above the rush of the wind.

“I believe it did. Now, get rid of him. We do not need this one,” the High Priest said and without uttering another word, he moved past Raven, toward Rivel. No. I won’t let… Once again Skinny’s hand grasped Raven’s arm. The round man dragged the boy, disregarding his pain, to the gap in the railing. “You won’t feel a thing, kid. I’ll snap your neck.”

Raven’s eyes widened in terror and met Rivel’s gaze. She was awake and aware. And it looked like she heard Skinny’s words, which was hard to believe.

“Leave him!” she roared, trashing and spilling the water on the deck.

“Stop! I’ll have to clean it up!” one of the black-cladded men warned her.

“Or what?” She shot him a dark stare, then her eyes returned to Skinny and Raven.

“Leave him or I’ll destroy the sky ship.”

The High Priest stopped and turned to Raven. He tugged at the end of his mustaches, then corrected the binocular.

“Crap.”

The crew stared at him now. He froze for a heartbeat then waved his hands. “Increase altitude. I’m, for one, curious of what she is capable of.” The crew stared at him some more, no one moved. His brow rose above the binocular and he asked quietly, “did I say it in a Faenish? Or do you require ‘a nudge’?” People rushed to tend their duties.

“I’ll kill you bastard!”

“Kirilm may save his soul.”

A heavy hand turned Raven into the direction of the Dreadnight fortress. The stronghold was no longer visible in the black shadow of the Scar. An incredulously high, natural wall-like mountain range consisting exclusively of obsidian-black sorcerous stone. The Scar ran miles up and from one horizon to another. It cut through the desert like a knife that someone hasn’t bothered pulling from a dead, wretched body.

“Noooo!” Rivel’s scream pierced the air. Raven closed his eyes. Beyond that, he couldn’t do anything. His body didn’t respond to his commands. He awaited the end.

The sky ship shook, the air suddenly filled with grit and dust. A moment later, the craft tipped to one side.

“What—” someone said and was gone, diving into the dunes below.

“What’s going on?” the High Priest asked as Skinny’s hand released Raven’s shoulder and the round man pivoted toward the other side of the deck, on his way crashing into the main mast, splintering it and continuing until he, too, was gone. Once the main mast was destroyed, things proceeded fast. The craft tilted more. Thicky fought the steer, but the truth revealed itself on his face. Raven grabbed the nearest rope and watched as the ship glided toward the ground. In the span of seconds, only half the crew remained—those who had time to hold on to something—while everyone else was on its way down.

“Ri—”

Raven’s call ended abruptly as the craft smashed into the tip of a dune. The impact threw Raven off the deck. He plunged onto a slope of the huge dune and rolled for more than a hundred heartbeats. When he came up to a stop, a long groan escaped his throat. His entire body felt sore, but he could move, so nothing was broken. He looked up, but except the puncture in the dune, spiked with small parts of the ship, nothing was there. It must have glided farther ahead. Raven scrambled to his feet. He couldn’t stay here. I have to find Rivel, he reminded himself. But something was terribly wrong. The wind. The air. The smell. Oh, no. A realization came to him. In the night the front of the sand storm was barely visible until it was too late. At first, the wind tugged him hard, then furious grit attacked only to flood the world with absolute darkness. Terrified Raven drop flat, covered his ears, and cried. Darkness and pressure encompassed him. Before his consciousness drifted away, he thought of his sister Rivel and the failure he was.