Reshevsky stood beside the door within the fourth floor meeting hall. He had initially intended to hold the meeting in his fifth floor study, but after fierce protests by certain members of his audience, the meeting was moved to the fourth floor.

Blazing torches illuminated the room from the corners. Shadows danced along Reshevsky's wrinkle-ridden face. On the opposite side of the elliptical meeting table, Canary, the captain, Anastasia, and Maria looked back. The captain was focused on Reshevsky, with her hands on the table and facing him. Canary, with his hands behind his head, might as well have not been there. Anastasia and Maria were deep in conversation about the possibility of magically prepared pancakes within the wagon.

“We would need a stove, at least. Holding up an oven fire with your bare hands would be impossible.” Maria remarked, holding her open hands outward as if pondering an imaginary crystal ball.

“A stove is just a chunk of metal, right? We could pick one up from the market.” Anastasia said. Her outstretched finger touched the tip of Maria’s nose.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Pancake batter. How would you mix pancake batter?” Maria’s face melted into a silly grin.

“Earth, water…and?”

“Be more specific. What kind of earth? Flesh? Bone? Wood?”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

“Would you study for ten years to mix a bowl of pancake batter?”

“Quiet! Please. And pay attention.” Reshevsky shouted hoarsely. He unfurled a roll of parchment upon the meeting table. It was yellowed and cracked at the edges, but the details and fine lettering held up in spite of its age. It was a map of the Sveshen lands, complete with landmarks and major city locations. Newly marked sections and messy dashed red lines told of the brief rise and fall of the western uprising.

His body arm gripped a piece of charcoal and traced a path southward.

“Your first stop is Karachevsk. I know some of you have been there.” he briefly glanced at the captain. Her focus was devoted towards him, and she nodded. The rest of the room ignored him and continued to bicker amongst themselves. “Girls! If you’d like to eat tonight, I’d advise you to listen.” he raised his voice. The girls fell silent and turned to him. “You’ll replenish your supplies there,” he said.

“I have a question!” Anastasia shouted from her seat, her hand raised

“What is it?”

“I haven’t been there. What is it like?”

“Home of the Archive and a few old buildings, there’s not too much for a lone traveler,” Reshevsky brushed his fingers against the hairs on his chin. “Oh, you remind me.” With his free hand, he pointed down at the faded brown circle representing the city against the yellow-tan landscape. “The earthen star, your destination, can only be accessed with a key. Great gates of white stone deny all who attempt to enter without it.”

“A key?” Anastasia asked, surprised.

“Wouldn’t we be better off forcing our way in?” Maria questioned cynically.

“A key,” Reshevsky placed his hands on the table. “It’s not a key, but more a token. You may pass if you hold it, and you may not if you do not. I would advise against forcing your way through, given you value your own time. Lady Aya’s seals are said to be troublesome.”

Maria went silent and quietly glared at Reshevsky from behind her muffler. It was spring and their party had long changed into lighter clothing, but Maria kept the lower half of her face hidden behind the muffler, as she always did.

“In any case, you will enter the Archive and find the location of the key. I’ve sent word to the keepers there, and they will grant you access. Then, on to St. Manon’s, and at the Basin of Timofey you’ll find the earthen star.” Reshevsky scrawled a mass of lines, notes, and arrows in black. The map was rendered a nearly unintelligible mess of black, brown, and yellow, but both Reshevsky and the captain looked at it intently, as if they understood it all. The captain quietly whispered the names of important names and locations on the map to herself, trying to encode it within her memory.

“And two final notes. I’ve prepared for you a new carriage, which should replace your old one. Since you’ll have an extra person or two, I thought you may need it. Anastasia, a new set of ribbons is waiting inside. I found the craftsman which made your first set, so I hope they’re to your liking. Good luck on your journey. If you ever come back, don’t hesitate to stay here.”

Anastasia jumped in excitement upon hearing the good news. “Where is it? I want to see it!”

“Reshevsky, wait.” Maria muttered. “Something isn’t right.” Her index finger tapped against the surface of the map, against the city labeled Karachevsk. “You’re sure the key can be found with information in the Archive?”

“That is correct.”

“What should be done in the case that the key cannot be found, or it is far away? Will we have the funds to continue our travels for that time?”

“Do not worry. It is likely that the key lies somewhere west of the basin. After much of the soil of the south lost its fertility, the key was lost in the exodus of the area. The key still lies there, among the abandoned castles and towns.” Reshevsky traced the thick black line of their route to a handful of sporadic block dots, each one denoting a landmark or settlement.

“Maria, don’t sweat the food or supplies. We’ve got allies there who will provide us with those.” the captain chimed in.

Reshevsky carefully slid the edges of the map between his index finger and thumb and rolled it up before handing it to the captain. “Any questions?” he asked to no one in particular.

Canary weakly extended two fingers on his left hand. “When do we leave?”

“Right now. There’s no time to waste.” He shot a brief glare at Anastasia, who was quietly debating with Maria over the possibility of having their own rooms in the new carriage.

2

Kirill sat at a polished wooden desk, grasping a short stack of documents in his hand. To his left, a few dozen freshly inked documents laid in a disordered pile. To his right, a neat stack of paper, reaching halfway to the ceiling. He took a sheet from the top of the large stack, wrote a line of text, and stamped it before tossing it into the pile beside him.

“Friedrich!” Kirill shouted at his assistant standing silently beside him.

“How can I help you, sir?” Friedrich hurried to his side.

“Why haven’t you hired anyone into the ministry? Why am I doing their work for them?” Kirill slammed his pen upon the table.

“New hires into the ministry are relatively rare, as I’m afraid applications are few.”

“And why is that?”

“Most of the lower house was in the ministry.”

“...” Kirill paused. “I see.”

“If you do not mind, please allow me to handle the work. I will see to it that the shortage is handled.” Friedrich reassured him. He walked forward and quickly tidied up the stack of finished documents.

“Gladly.” Kirill wiped his brow in relief. “You barged in without knocking. Clearly, you’ve not come to relieve me of my duties. What is it? Come to announce your retirement?” Kirill asked.

“Er, no. Not yet. My service to the crown will continue as long as the heart in my chest continues to beat. I’ve come with urgent news.” Friedrich produced a fistful of crumpled paper slips from beneath his robes. Holding out his hand, they tumbled to the top of the desk before unfurling by themselves. A thick network of symbols only discernible to Friedrich and his contacts covered every inch of the white paper. “A few nights ago, I received word of an assault upon the city of Iralsk to the south. Little information was given before the city was destroyed. The units and Academy’s guild held for a few days before falling. Inhuman enemies were recalled as monsters of poison vines, much like the ones which permeate the southern wilderness. Scarcely a letter escaped the area before the collapse. The final request given by the general assigned to the city’s protection was for your aid.”

“My aid?” Kirill asked. His hand set down the pen and he turned to Friedrich with his full attention.

“At your command, the armed forces will mobilize to the south.”

“And what exactly do they need me for?” Kirill asked irritably.

“To lead the troops. In spite of your…eventful coronation, the silver sparrows still hold great admiration for your strength. While I handle the replenishment of the lower house, I humbly request that you consider the matter in the south seriously.”

“Anything beats sitting at a desk stamping papers. I’ll pull the mummy out of his coffin to let him know.”

“Thank you. Before I leave, I have one question, if you do not mind.” Friedrich said weakly, burying his hands beneath his robes.

“What is it?” Kirill asked. He stood up and turned towards the door.

“Why did you do it?”

Kirill turned his face away from Friedrich. He stared intensely at the old wooden wall of the study, scanning along the decorative engraving running along the wall. “They were poison to our nation. All of them. My father’s intentions were good, but his judgment of character was not. In the end, he paid the price for his foolishness.”

3

St. Manon’s stood well within the rainy desert, centered around an ancient freshwater spring. The original site had long dried up, replaced by a canal diverting flow from mountain runoff. It was the original capital of the Academy and its adherents. Following the union between the Academy and the Sveshen line, the Academy moved to the capital far north of St. Manon’s. The city that remained still held many individuals important to Academy influence, but they slowly died, moved, or otherwise lost their importance over hundreds of years.

Glass and limestone composed most buildings in St. Manon’s. The soft desert sand was easily workable into sturdy panes and block, and limestone deposits, slowly hardening upon contact with air, made an ideal material for construction. Thus, the city stood as a beacon at the southern edge of the desert, reflecting sunlight in all directions. Against the supports of yellow rock, clear brick of molded glass crisscrossed along the city walls, dotted with peepholes for weaponry. The architecture within St. Manon’s held a similar style, with elaborate roofs, domes, and windows, clear as drops of water.

Notable among the architecture was a spire, composed entirely of crystalline quartz, jutting into the heavens. While the rest of the city scattered yellow-white sunlight into the sandy landscape, it alone projected a refracted rainbow northwards. It crowned the Sisters’ Hold, named after the two great scholars of the elements who constructed it.

Lady Emily stood alone within the spire, flashes of sunlight casting a dozen shadows of varying length on the floor around her. Her daughter stood at the back, with one hand clutching Emily’s coattail and the other curled around the notebook at her side. Viv swiveled her head from side to side, her eyes absorbed in tracing the path of the entering light from crystal to crystal until it exited the structure as a vibrant mixture of color.

Several images suspended themselves in midair before the lady. They each depicted the same lush vegetation of the lands near Iralsk, the fallen city, but varying in altitude. From the highest point, a verdant sea with rolling green waves blanketed the ground. From nearer to the ground, densely formed rows of vines and leaves slithered along the grass, devouring the surrounding life and leaving trails of small bones in their wake. The occasional leafy creature would contain an arm or leg, and sometimes a head or torso. The blood had long been drained from them, and the creature, as if playing with its food, ran tentacle-like fibers along each one, waiting for an opportunity to use it.

Lady Emily clenched her teeth to avoid throwing up and confirmed Viv’s attention was turned away from the gruesome images. The enemies that had overwhelmed Iralsk were undoubtedly numbering in the tens of thousands, and besides the white-hot fire from the forge furnaces, she knew of little that could ward off their voracious appetites for life.

Viv took notice of the uneven breaths leaving her mother’s mouth. “Lady, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s nothing. How are you enjoying the spire?” Emily responded without turning around.

“It’s very pretty. The color reminds me of the star.” Viv responded in a half-daze.

“Would you like to hear about who built it?” Emily continued the conversation, while gently guiding Viv’s shoulders with her hands to keep her gaze in the other direction. The images before Emily were the eyes of her creations, their sight projected into the space before her.

“Yes, please. I would love to.” Vivian’s spring outfit was a dark blue summer dress running down to her knees, with a five-petaled flower pattern at the collar. She twirled around in joy, paying no heed to her mother’s discomfort.

“Many, many years ago, two sisters came to the Sveshen lands. Aya, who held the void in her palm, and Isa, whose blood ran hot with fire. They built this spire as a show of friendship to the empire, which granted them the land. However, when a new emperor was crowned, he revoked their claim, and when they resisted his efforts to retake the city that they had built, he tore open the earthen star.”

“Was this the first rift?”

“Yes. This brought the abyssals into the world, but more importantly, it imbued within the imperial army a bloodlust which overwhelmed the strength of the Sisters. Their constructions reduced to ash and rubble, they sought peace. At least, Aya did. Isa’s personality, just like the fire in her veins, boiled over and she would not relent. In the end, Aya defeated her in a duel and the city became a subject of the empire. The city was renamed St. Manon’s, in honor of the empire’s advisor at the time. Aya, in her sadness, created two statues of her dead friend, one of gold and the other of the crystal which composes this spire.”

“Wait, Lady! Why did Isa die?” Vivian asked in a panicked voice.

“She lost the duel. Aya never spoke of what happened precisely, but at the end of it, Isa was no longer in this world.” Emily said with a sigh. It was a sad story, sure, but avoiding the result wouldn’t change it. “Now, that’s enough. Run downstairs while I finish my work-”

A flutter of movement in the corner of Emily’s eye caught her attention. The sea of green was still. Every leaf, every twig was completely motionless, but for a sight far in the distance of Emily’s sight. It was a shadow, both moving and unmoving. Before Emily could react, a needle-thin finger impaled the eye of her creation and one of the three ephemeral images before her broke into pieces, shattering like a ceramic vase into fragments which melted into air. The other two followed. Emily had but a glimpse of the shadow, but it was clear to her that just as she had seen it, it had seen her. She imagined an eye, peering down at her from the heavens, biding its time before descending to devour her and Vivian where they stood.

Emily’s eyes, wide with fear, turned to Vivian. Vivian wore the same playful, curious expression as before. This brought a slight relief to the creeping horror taking hold in the corner of Emily’s mind. She quietly promised to herself that she would defeat the shadow should she ever come in contact with it face to face. Fear was an emotion inferior to the greater mind, allowing it any more than a passing thought was unbefitting of an Academy head.

“I want to be like Isa!” Vivian shouted as she hopped in front of a ray of light. Her shadow bounced along the crystalline walls of the spire.

“Why Isa?”

“I want to make fire flowers.”

“I’m afraid you can’t. Isa wasn’t the type to write down her studies. But, I’ll teach you all about making fire flowers if you want to know.”

“Fire flowers!” Vivian reached her hand upwards. A wisp of flame appeared on her outstretched palm. It was white and yellow, dancing along her fingertips.

4

Miles of sand dunes, rippling with heat spread wide before the watchman behind a wall of glass. Closer to himself, soldiers the size of rats scrambled back and forth to erect large wooden shields smeared with a thick black paste atop the castle walls. The paste was flammable; it was a thick concoction of mineral powders and oil which produced a sparking white flame when ignited.

A faint tint of green against the sun-colored sands could be seen many miles away. It was almost indiscernible, obscured by the light of the sun. It didn’t escape the eyes of the watchman. His hands wrapped around the thick bell rope and he rang the bell above his head three times.

“They will arrive in under an hour.” the head of the Academy, leading her daughter by the hand, appeared beside him.

“Your High Excellence. It is a pleasure to meet you.” the watchman pushed back his visor and kneeled on one knee.

“At ease. I have information for you.”

“Please.”

“We’ve identified the enemy general.”

“I see.”

“Their general is a shadow, not of flesh or material substance. If it approaches, retreat and wait for my assistance. Even if it breaches a wall, don’t waste your life in an attempt to contain it”

“Understood. Will your High Excellence require anything of us then?”

“Prioritize only the life of the citizens above your own. Reinforcements arrive in a few weeks, we must hold them back until then.”

5

The city was encircled before nightfall. Orange rays of setting sunlight bathed defenders and enemies alike in a thick orange shade. Only defenders and the most stubborn of citizens remained; the rest were sent through the desert to find refuge in the north. This was not for their sake; the preservation of food in the face of a prolonged siege was necessary for survival. Soldiers composed of vines, twigs, and rotten flesh crept up the walls, feeling their way up the smooth surface by anchoring themselves in the cracks. Atop the walls, columns of smoke rose from the flaming wooden shields. Enemies breaching the wall were met by fire. It spread along their bodies as they struggled in agony, falling down the city wall, and by the time they reached the bottom a smoking pile of charcoal and ash remained.

Emily looked upon the silent city from an upper level of the hold, below the spire. Hours had passed since the first clash at the southern gates. She had counted every second since then, waiting for news. There had been no breaches, the barrier maintained by her associate remained unshaken above the city, and her troop of scholars continued to wreak havoc in the midst of the enemy ranks. While the bulk of the invasion had consisted of the lifeless unions of flesh and vegetation, hidden deep behind the front lines were great constructions of heavy artillery. Bundles of arm-width tubules composed of sand and root wood launched a fiery barrage over the walls and into the city. They stopped upon collision with the barrier; showering the lands below with scalding sand and oil. And yet, they failed to leave a mark on the faint blue mist shrouding the empty city. The artillery was targeted and destroyed whenever it appeared on the horizon to preserve the barrier-keeper’s stamina.

“Look!” Vivian ran to the edge of the room towards the overlooking view, pointing at a faint blue glow in the distance.

“So that’s where she was. I was beginning to wonder if she’d gone to slack off,” her mother said with a smile.

Night had fallen, and with it the stars had exposed themselves against the clear night sky, one by one. Faint noises of shouting and the grinding of wood against limestone came from the walls far below. It was a beautiful night. In spite of the grey smoke billowing into the air, the moon’s faint white silhouette could be seen behind the wispy cloud cover.

“Is something wrong?” Vivian returned from the window and grasped at her mother’s robes. She was scarcely tall enough to reach above the waist. Yet, the look of concern in her pale blue eyes was ample reason to offer a word of reassurance.

“Viv, my child.” Emily picked up her daughter and held her close with one arm. The weight of her growing body was just enough to bring a hint of strain to Emily’s voice as she spoke. “You’ve gotten heavier. That’s good. You’re getting bigger.” With her other hand, she pointed at a flash and the same blue afterglow Vivian had pointed out a few moments before. “Do you know who that is?”

“No!” Vivian shook her head.

“That’s Akari, a friend of mine. She crossed the eastern sea to come here, so she looks different from us.”

“Is she strong?”

“Yes. She uses a curved sword, shaped like this.” Emily traced a long, slightly curved line in the air. “I hope you could meet her. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

“She sounds scary.” Vivian whined.

Her mother laughed to herself quietly, keeping her daughter from hearing a sound. “She’s anything but scary. But she’s so kind, and so strong, I’d be very sad if anything happened to her. She’s out on the battlefield alone, with nothing but her sword to protect her. That’s why I’m worried.”

“If you’re worried, why don’t you go talk to her? Lady, you’re strong too. You could help her.”

“But if I leave you alone, you’ll run off somewhere.” Emily pinched her daughter on the cheek.

“I won’t. I promise.” Vivian puffed her cheeks and shook her tiny fists in the air to emphasize her point.

“Are you sure?”

“I am!”

“I’ll be back. Don’t leave this room.” Emily kissed her daughter on the cheek and set her down. Vivian waved her goodbye as Emily closed and shut the door. Tree roots, fine as string stretched from the wooden door and took root in the doorway, firmly sealing it shut.