Naivete was a synonym for Riven’s shadow. He thought he’d be done with long train journeys once he made landfall on Providence Demesne. Such innocence. As the second-largest province on the Resplendian half of Severance Frontier, Providence Demesne was enormous. It took one whole night to travel from Providence city to Welmark.

Would have been a very uneventful and boring night too, after Riven had spent the day before catching up on the sleep he’d ditched in favour of obsessing over his meeting with Father. But Viriya had counselled sleeping pills. She had followed her own advice and taken a few, saving Riven from any painful conversations and torturous silence. On the onset of deadly boredom, Riven had followed her lead and taken a few as well. When he woke up, Welmark was at hand.

Welmark, and the Sundering Pit. The edge of it was visible if he peered, a high ridge riding the horizon. Faint hints of colours swirled in the distant sky.

“You’re a deep sleeper,” Viriya commented. She was packing up her things, pulling down her sole luggage as the train whistled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get rid of it soon.”

“How is deep sleeping wrong?”

“Easier to get killed if you can’t wake up easily.”

“You’re packing already?” Riven yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. “We’re not there yet.”

He checked out the window just to be sure. The sparse, deserted land he’d spied last night was slowly giving way to occasional homesteads in the distance. There was more vegetation here too, red and magenta Coral trees dotting the landscape, connected to their disparate brethren via an ocean of thorngrass. Welmark proper wasn’t visible yet though.

“Don’t we have time for breakfast yet?” Riven asked. “We’re not there yet.”

“Looks can be deceptive. Besides, I’ve had breakfast, while you were paying the price for your irresponsibility.”

Riven frowned, looking outside again to hide it from Viriya. They hadn’t talked much about anything at all. Nothing about the Deadmage or the Phantoms, nothing about what awaited them in Welmark, and definitely nothing on why she had come to his rescue with Father yesterday.

To be fair, it had been late at night when they had met up again and she had dragged him to Providence’s train station. Severance Frontier was too sparsely populated and the locales too disparate to require passenger trains running in between, so they had hitched a ride on a freight train. Riven had never been subjected to the sheer opposite of utter luxury before. Creature comforts were a foreign concept on trains such as this—the few lone seats were hard as rocks and hot as though they’d been out in the sun all day, the windows too grimy and dirty to touch, and the little table between the two of them was so rickety, Riven was sure it would fall apart if he blew on it hard enough. Viriya had conked herself out and saved herself the torture. Stupid Riven had just taken too long to see what a wonderful idea that had been.

Though, now his arse had turned to bricks. He’d just have to walk it off.

Looks can be deceiving, Viriya had said. Riven didn’t see much difference, if any, though the train was slowing down. Another whistle, and she flicked her fingers at him. “Get ready. We’ll be deboarding soon.”

Riven sighed, his empty stomach sighing louder. He swirled his hands in his carpet bag. The Sept crystal was there at the bottom. Good. Though it made him wonder why Mhell hadn’t come to take it away yet.

He tried not to glance at Viriya, who was observing with her suitcase on her lap. Had Father told her everything about the Scion piece? If so, she had made no mention of it. Impossible to say if she was being her regular taciturn self or if she was mad at Riven for hiding something so vital. She didn’t seem angry. But after that night, the return to her normally stoic behaviour was a little disheartening.

“We’ve arrived,” Viriya announced.

“We have?” Riven looked out. The area looked no different from the surroundings. There wasn’t anything nearby save the one little building right beside the rail tracks, and their train slowed to a stop beside it.

Viriya led the way out, hopping off the train and shouldering past the workers who had been hired to unload the actual freight. The station’s yard was bigger than the little building. Men and women were unloading boxes filled with import from the rest of Providence Demesne and stuffing in export from Welmark. The road outside was less a road, and more a beaten path barely wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side.

“I’ll take you to the local Consulate.” Viriya headed north, lugging her suitcase over one shoulder.

Riven caught up with her, too busy with his own carpet bag to lend a hand with her luggage. “But you’re not going to stay?”

“I need to investigate. There was a Deadmage attack here recently.”

“A Deadmage attack?”

She nodded. Long, bare expanses of Welmark stretched out from the station, relieved by a few Coral trees and an endless carpet of thorngrass. No wonder the Deadmage had attacked with the homesteads all disparate and solitary. Welmark was as desolate as a graveyard. The Septillion sun glared down on them, and sweat prickled Riven’s back. One whole day of rest had done wonders in healing away the pain.

They passed a small rise, where the rail line bifurcated the road, before Viriya spoke again. “So the report said. Several people are missing, though none have been reported dead. Which is curious, since Deadmages typically enslave Spectres only, and ghosts don’t need their corporeal body to manifest.”

No, they didn’t. Every time one had been injured, they had spewed Sept as though they were made of the things. “Why in the world are they holding a meeting here, where a known Deadmage attacked?”

“The meeting place was decided before the incident. The Arnish are a stubborn lot, and refused to change it on such short notice.”

“So that’s why Father has put most Essentiers on alert and sent them here. To stop anything from happening.”

“Right.”

They passed a small pile of dead Sept. Riven had to ask what they had discussed. Had to know if Viriya knew about the Scion piece too. It might appear a little suspicious, but maybe he could play it off as his natural curiosity about Father. After all, he was getting more into Father’s business now with the Sept research awaiting him. But it wasn’t before they had passed under the shadow of an old water tower, where the road forked into two paths, did Riven muster enough courage to question.

“Can I ask, what did you and Father discuss?”

Viriya switched her suitcase from one shoulder to the other. Damn thing must have been heavy. “A lot.”

“Thank you. Very illuminating.” When she didn’t respond to his jibe, Riven sighed. “What did you tell him about the Deadmage we fought?”

“Everything I saw and heard. This current investigation is part of the response to what the Deadmage said about there being more of them.”

Riven swallowed his sigh. It didn’t sound like Father had told her about the Scion piece. Either he hadn’t believed Riven, or had believed it necessary to keep it hidden even from someone as seemingly close to him as Viriya. Unless, Riven had severely misjudged the extent of their relationship.

Maybe he should just tell Viriya. After all, what was hiding it any longer going to accomplish when he’d broken his promise to Rio and told Father? If anyone deserved to know, it was her.

“Listen, Viriya,” Riven said, unable to meet her eyes. They were too sharp. Too knowing. “The Deadmage said some things before you killed him. About this Sundering, whatever it is.”

“I know. I heard the Spectres.”

“I think they all might be looking for something to help them with that. Something specific.”

“More Sept.”

“Yes but…”

Riven went silent as sounds grew. Murmurs of conversation, a light flutter in the desultory wind, the snaps and beats of distant marching. People.

A building grew in the distance, larger than the ones he’d seen so far. The centre was dominated by an edifice with two floors, cream-coloured walls, and a black-slated gabled roof, with longer, single-storey wings running out on either side and behind it. White walls surrounded its courtyards, topped with iron spikes as pointed as they were artful with a few grey Coral trees peeking over the edge, all manned by guards in short watchtowers at the corners. People thronged everywhere all around it, lining the roads—actually cobbled here instead of just dirt tracks—adorning the courtyards, and flashing past windows and doorways. After the sense of abandonment and disarray from the rest of Welmark, the Consulate was a breath of fresh air.

“Did everyone from Welmark make their way here?” Riven asked.

“Hmm, I think the Arnish have brought more than anyone expected.”

“Like a damn migration…”

Viriya stopped all of a sudden, and Riven went ahead for a bit before he became aware she had stopped. “I’m going to head out and start investigating. You can use your ID and ask around. Mind taking my suitcase?”

“Wait, you’re leaving already?”

“No time like the present.”

Riven accepted her suitcase with one hand, and then bent over at the weight. Damn, what in the world was she carrying in there “But where will you go? And you don’t happen to have an anvil in this thing, do you?”

The hint of a smirk a played at the edge of her mouth. “The house that blew up when the Deadmage attacked. Check with the local authorities. Maybe drop by the hospital where they’re holding the survivors.”

Viriya nodded at him, then turned and headed back the way they had come. She had come all that way just to accompany him to the Consulate, to make sure he didn’t lose his way. It felt a little nagging that he wasn’t trusted to find his way around the town, but the company was more than appreciated. All even after he was keeping things from her.

“Thank you,” Riven said to her departing back.

She glanced back once, then raised a hand in farewell as she kept walking.

With a huff, Riven pulled the suitcase with one hand and his carpet bag with the other as he headed towards the Consulate’s gates. He got quite a few stares as he passed by. Most were members of the military, the Resplendian soldiers in their black deerskin coats and blue trousers and the Arnish guards accoutred in whites, blues, and golds, all with regular rifles held against their shoulders.

Riven darted between the troop, some standing, some on horseback, and was stopped at the gate. He had to rummage in his jacket to find his ID and the paper from Father that authorized his presence at the Consulate. They pored over it, glancing at his face and muttering “Morell” before letting him in.

It didn’t get any easier inside. People dawdled inside in fancy dresses and suits, conversing, snacking, drinking, enjoying themselves as though this was a gala, not a diplomatic meeting between two nations with fraught ties. Servers weave through the crowd, offering drinks and taking back empty glasses. Music blared from one corner, a trilling melody of flutes and violins in competition with each other, and some of the attendees danced to the off-kilter tune.

Riven weaved between the bodies but found no sign of Rosiene. No, this was too large a gathering for him to be wandering about. Fortunately, there was an easy solution.

He grabbed a passing server. “Excuse me. Do you know where Rosiene Morell is?”

The server simpered. “Welcome to the gala, sir. Miss Morell and the other dignitaries are preparing for the meeting upstairs.”

“Where can I go upstairs?”

“Sir, entry is restricted to select personnel. You’ll have to wait until the meeting is over until you can petition for a meeting.”

“You assume a lot for a simple waiter.” Riven’s words made the server flush. “I come with an important message from my father, Rosbel Morell. If you know who that is, and if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to point me to where I can meet my sister.”

The server’s eyes widened, the empty glasses on his tray rattling. “Th—the stairway is behind the counter with the food.

Riven nodded, then followed the directions to head upstairs. Damn it, he should have left the bags with the server. No point hauling it around everywhere. But there was the Sept crystal to consider, and Viriya wouldn’t appreciate it if he left her precious luggage unattended for too long.

The stairway led to a gallery at the top. Two more guards stood in front of the large door there, and Riven had to undergo another round of verifying his credentials.

“The Invigilator’s youngest son!” one guard whispered to the other. If Riven rolled his eyes any harder, he’d unscrew them from the orbit. The guard perusing the paper Father had given looked up hastily. “Please sir, forgive the delay. Protocol and all that. I can lead you to Miss Morell.”

“Go ahead.”

The guard opened the door and hastened inside, beckoning Riven to come along. Once they were inside, the other guard closed the door, sealing off the noise from below. Riven smiled. It was good to be finally treated with some measure of respect. He’d been little more than a grunt in Providence city, living on Father’s mercy and whatever he thought Riven needed. Though now that he thought about it, wasn’t this respect coming from his Father as well? Invigilator’s son, they said. Rosbel Morell’s youngest. Not Riven Senolan Morell.

The hallway they passed through stopped at large double doors. These had to be the entrance to the main meeting chamber, the place where the main delegation from Vedel Arn would be negotiating with the representatives from Resplend. The guard bid Riven wait and disappeared through a side door.

Moments later, the guard came back. And with him came Rose.

“Little brother!” Rose grinned at him.

Riven grinned back. “It’s been a while.”

They embraced. Warm, comforting, and familiar. Surprising as well, that he was now taller than his sister. He didn’t feel taller, which wasn’t helped by the fact that she appeared older too. Her Essentier uniform was the same as Viriya’s except for the golden epaulettes on her shoulder, the carbine hanging on one side of her waist, and the black Coral rapier on the other. Where Viriya had a silver badge, Rose’s was gold. Secondmarked.

Rose drew back, smiling. “You’ve grown.”

Riven poked her in the shoulder, right on her epaulette. “You too.”

She laughed, the ends of her hair bouncing. She had always kept it relatively short, and Riven had never seen it go beyond the dark waves go beyond the nape of her neck. “Listen, I know there’s a lot we need to catch up on, but you came at a very bad time, Riven.”

“I know, Rose. You’re busy with this big meeting. But I’ve got news, and important information. Plus orders from Father too.”

“They can wait, right?”

Riven pursed his lips. Rose had always made time for him. She’d always been there, always finding some pocket of time from her busy schedule to help him with tough lessons, give pointers on how to shoot, regale him with a little tale from about foppish Essentiers. She had always made time for Riven. Severance Frontier was threatening to take away everything he had known. “Can I give a basic gist?”

Rose touched his arm. “I’m sorry, you know I don’t mean to ignore you like this. It’s just this meeting is very important, and we need to prepare.”

“I understand. Really, I do. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

She didn’t look satisfied, and Riven cursed himself. Their very first meeting in over a year, and he’d upset her. Maybe Father had a point about his maturity.

“All right,” Rose said. “Can you tell everything as briefly as possible? Well, not everything. Just the important bits, like Father’s orders.”

Riven took a deep breath. “Mother is ill.”

“I’m aware, Riven.”

He shrugged at her flat stare. “Father says you need to let me in on the research about Sept. The Deadmages are becoming more active, and their efforts are somewhat concerted in the sense that they’re all aiming for the same thing—some kind of ascendance.” Riven paused, usure if he wanted to hell her about the Sept crystal. “I think that’s about it.”

Rose blinked a few times. “That… is a lot.”

“Honestly, I’ve barely begun.”

“Look, I—”

The side door opened again. Glaven stepped out. “Rose, you’re going to make us late. We need to go over our counterproposal for the Frontier border situation.” He stopped abruptly when he saw who it was standing with Rose. “Oh, hello there, little brother! Been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Unlike Rose who exuded warmth, Glaven took too much after Father. He might try to appear affable on the surface, but those close-cropped dark hair, those eyes cold as faithless coins, the sharp brows and moustache, all spoke of a man who was cold as steel. Apart from the diamond Firstmarked badge, his Essentier uniform differed from Rose’s only in the sense that his gold epaulettes had bands of red and his Coral blade was a short sword.

“Hello Glaven,” Riven said. “I was just about to lament how you weren’t here to meet me before Rose sent me packing. I was going to thank the Scions for it too.”

Rose cuffed his arm. “Play nice.”

Glaven only laughed, though his eyes were bright and disquieting. “I’ll let this one slide since it’s been over a year. I’m frankly glad just to hear your voice. It’s gotten a little deeper, and not as nagging as it used to be.”

“Play nice, Glaven.”

Big brother Glaven tutted. “Best you get going for now, little brother. Us adults are busy.”

“I’ve got orders straight from Father,” Riven said.

“Which can no doubt wait until after the meeting.”

“It’s about the Deadmage attacks. The one back in Providence, and the one here in Welmark. It’s going to happen again, not unless the Deadmage is stopped. And I know why.”

The door opened further and a dark-skinned man in a long, black coat stepped out. “Municipier!” He had a strange, drawling accent that Riven belatedly realized was Arnish. Intricate tattoos on his temple made it look like his eyebrows had joined with his black hair. “You’ve been keeping me waiting for so long.”

Glaven turned with an apologetic smile. “Please go back inside, Illuminate Khathir. It’s just a minor distraction. I’ll join you in a moment.”

The Illuminate of Vedel Arn frowned at Riven, before turning on his heel and going back in. Riven’s attention was still mostly on Glaven. He knew his brother was the Municipier of Providence Demesne, the head Essentier to whom all other Essentiers answered. It was still impressive to see him dealing with an Arnish Illuminate.

Glaven turned to Riven with a forced smile. “Run along now. Don’t make me Command you.”

Command Riven? Wasn’t he already doing that? “But—”

“It. Can. Wait.”

Rose snapped her fingers again before Riven could argue further. “Go wait downstairs. I promise I’ll find you as soon as this meeting is over.”

Riven was back in Providence again. Back in the briars with his Father hooking him in place with the thorns, except it was Glaven enacting Father’s role. Whatever preparations they might have to make for the Arnish, surely it wouldn’t need to consume all their time. There had to be some time for Riven. But then, would Glaven have paid any attention if there hadn’t been this stupid meeting? Would Rose? It was getting harder and harder not to doubt.

“Fine,” Riven spat. “I’ll wait.”

He tried not to stalk back. The weight of Viriya’s suitcase and his carpet bag helped. Riven likely looked too pathetic, carrying luggage like some bellhop, and it was all he could do to not stumble, trip, or fall.

The guards at the gallery door tried to say something, but Riven didn’t pause. He rushed downstairs, making sure to step carefully and not tumble down all the way, and went outside the suffocating and gallivanting Consulate. The courtyard was freeing. No dumb music, no scandalous conversation, no people showing off their extravagance. He’d be damned if he was going to wait anywhere near.

A clip-clop distracted Riven. He turned his head, and lo and behold. Rio was riding in on his Sept horse, Lightspeed.

“You’re here too!” he said. He spread his arms, as though to embrace Riven from horseback.

“The Chasm are you doing here?” Riven asked.

“I was supposed to be here for the meeting, what do you think?”

Riven stepped to a side and swung his arms languidly at the Consulate doors like a bowing butler. “Please don’t let me stop you. Go enjoy your wonderful meeting.”

“The Chasm are you talking about? It’s not for another few hours at the minimum.”

“Oh.”

Rio brought his horse closer, a conspiratorial grin careening across his face, light eyes twinkling like the gem on his earring. The courtyard was empty save for a few stragglers here and there, so no one was close enough to overhear. Riven clutched his carpet bag tightly. He hadn’t really broken any promises. Anything Rio might have said had been implied, not a true vow or pledge. But the bag felt heavier than ever, ready to drop, burst open, and reveal all it held.

“You want to get out of here for a while?” Rio asked.

Riven blinked. “What? Where would we go?”

“There’s been Deadmage attacks here. Don’t you want to check it out?”

“Oh, right.” It wasn’t like Riven had something more important to do, so why not? “Of course I do. Let’s go.”