Dansin Roth stepped down a corridor of dark wood and polished marble. In that moment, he couldn’t say where on the planet he was. His host was the strongest Space Artist in the world, and the man’s techniques were worthy of that title. He also had a reputation for exploring dangerous places. The sort of places no ordinary human would tread.

This could be a regular house in Koreldon City, right under the Mystics’ noses. Or perhaps they were somewhere more exotic, like an underground bunker in the jungles of Cadria. It could be somewhere warm, like a desert in South Shoken, or somewhere impossibly cold, like the tundras of Vordica.

Nothing would surprise him at this point.

Dansin rounded a corner and passed several pieces of expensive artwork along the way. The surroundings were a stark contrast to his disheveled state, and he ran his hand through his hair, trying to put things back into order.

Unfortunately, he could do little for the stubble on his face, or the wrinkles in his shirt. Life on the run didn’t suit Dansin at all, and he’d thought of ending his struggle more than once. He still had an old contact in the Espirian Crime Agency, someone who would gladly trade Dansin’s knowledge for his freedom.

Of course, he would never entertain such thoughts in front of his host.

The corridor ended in a larger room that looked like an office. Three massive windows dominated the wall opposite the door, and they looked out into a black void. But no . . . as his eyes adjusted to the scene, Dansin saw the truth of things. A thousand pinpricks of light sparkled in that void.

Stars?

Until now, he’d only seen stars beyond a veil of light and mana pollution. This was something else entirely. Each star had its own distinct size, color, and shape—details he’d never seen before.

A large sphere floated in space outside the right window. It was mostly blue and white, with thin green land masses visible beneath the clouds. Dansin stared for several long seconds as his brain processed the impossible sight. Was this a trick, or was he actually staring down at the planet itself?

So much for not being surprised.

Suddenly, the room felt far colder than it had before, and shivers threatened to run down his spine. If he was staring at the planet, then where was he now? One of the moons? He’d heard of high-level Space Artists making portals here, but he’d never imagined he would travel through one himself.

“Enjoying the view?” Ashur Moonfire asked from behind his desk. The man wore a crisp gray suit, and his dark red hair was neatly styled.

Dansin gave a slow nod, forcing himself to appear calm. “The photographs don’t do it justice.”

“The photographers always focus on our moons’ surfaces,” Moonfire said as he stepped around his desk. “A mistake, if you ask me.” Then he nodded down to Dansin’s missing hand. “How’s the wound?”

“It’s healed well enough,” Dansin said without looking down. In this modern age of prosthetics, everyone expected Mana Artists to endure such injuries without complaint. But no one ever spoke of the sense of wrongness that came with them.

A few more steps brought Dansin into the center of the room, and he noticed Moonfire’s other guest sitting in a brown leather armchair. She was a half-dragon, but her features looked more human than most, with smooth green skin and black hair that fell past her shoulders.

Moonfire sat on the edge of his desk and gestured between them. “Dansin Roth, meet Valeria Antano, former Spymaster of Creta.”

The dragon locked her golden eyes on Dansin and spoke in a raspy voice. “So, you’re the one? The one who let Zeller slip through your fingers?”

Dansin kept his excuses to himself. He could have mentioned the Cult of Solidor, and how they’d slipped a spy into his ranks, but why bother? He didn’t answer to this woman, and she had little to offer him.

“We’re not here to rehash the past,” Moonfire said. “The fact is, neither one of you can return to your former lives after what happened. That’s why the organization chose you.”

“Chose us?” Dansin asked.

“To accelerate our plans.” The Grandmaster stepped toward a smooth section of the wall and cycled his space mana. A portal appeared there a second later, and he gestured them both forward.

Dansin stepped through the portal onto a stone amid a raging storm. Mana swirled in the night sky, lightning flashed between the clouds, and the tides rose hundreds of feet into the air. The air smelled like salt and mana, and raw power.

Despite this, the rain never touched him, and the stone was dry beneath his shoes. Even the sound of his footsteps was louder than the storm.

Senator Moonfire had clearly brought them somewhere in the Inner Sea, but the transition was as smooth as stepping through a doorway. The island itself was barely a dozen feet across, but that made sense. The Inner Sea was even more dangerous than the moons, and the Constructs would be more expensive to maintain.

Valeria followed them through the portal, marveling at their surroundings.

Moonfire approached the edge of the island and turned to face them. “What do you really want, Valeria?”

“You know what I want.”

“To kill Akari Zeller?” He gave her a frank look. “Come now. You didn’t become a Master with such small ambitions.”

She bared her teeth, looking far less human than before. “That girl killed my son—”

“In battle,” he broke in. “And your son was an Artisan, wasn’t he? The girl’s actions were far from dishonorable. What was your son even doing there? Wasn’t that battle between the Unmarked and the Grevandi?”

When Valeria didn’t respond, he continued. “Vengeance is all well and good, but focusing all your efforts on a sixteen-year-old Apprentice? That’s beneath you. What do you really want?”

Her lips made a thin line as she considered his words. “When I was a girl, we feared those in power. Even in the heat of battle, I never would have attacked the son of a Master. That was the way of the world. It was harsh and brutal, but I accepted it. Now my family is in power, and this younger generation does what they please. They don’t fear Masters and Mystics like they used to.”

Her face hardened, and her eyes were like glowing embers against the dark storm. “I want the world to go back to the way it was.”

“Better,” Moonfire said with a curt nod. “And you will have your vengeance as well. Our enemies have shown an interest in Akari Zeller and her new aspect. That’s why we honored your request”

Well, that was one mystery solved. In one move, they would have removed the Zeller from the board and put Valeria Antano in their debt.

The Grandmaster turned to face him. “And you, Dansin? What do you fight for?”

Dansin’s own ambitions were smaller, perhaps. A part of him just wanted to go back to his job at Koreldon University. He wasn’t fit for these secret plots, and he certainly didn’t agree with Valeria’s view of the past.

Even a hundred years ago, an Apprentice could be killed just for looking a Master in the eye. The survivors of that age might look back with fond memories, but the survivors all had luck on their side. What’s more, someone like Dansin would never have survived in such a cruel world. He’d spent his youth as an average Mana Artist. He’d never had an impressive aspect, and he hadn’t developed his shaping skills until later in life. By then, his destiny was sealed.

Hard work makes Artisans, and insight makes Masters. He’d always hated that old saying, especially since he possessed more of the former quality than the latter. He’d been lucky just to climb this high, but he couldn’t stand to watch his peers work half as hard and earn twice as much.

Worst of all, he was forced to train prodigies in his classes, knowing they might surpass him in his own lifetime.

“I want to be a Grandmaster,” he said.

“I can give you that,” Moonfire replied. “There will be sacrifices, of course. No path to power is ever easy. But when we’re finished, you will have what you seek.”

The storm grew louder, despite the surrounding wards. Even the ground itself seemed to shake beneath their feet.

“Empires have risen and fallen for centuries.” Moonfire raised a hand toward the distant horizon, and the clouds shifted in response. “Espiria has grown stronger than any before it. If they grow too strong, they will seek to overthrow the Angels themselves, and this we can’t allow.”

Dansin raised an eyebrow. Was Moonfire a true believer in their cause? No . . . Angelists might speak of living a good life and being reborn in Eternity, but those teachings were for other people. People too weak to face the truth.

Deep down, every Mana Artist sought to defy the Angels and achieve true immortality.

“It’s time for Espiria to fall,” Moonfire continued. “We will be the instruments of its destruction, and we’ll bring a new golden age from the ashes.”

“What would you ask of us?” Valeria asked.

“You’ll start by retrieving the Etherite you lost. It’s far more valuable than you know, and your brother was a fool to lose it.” He turned to Dansin. “Your job comes with greater risks. But if you succeed, you’ll rise far beyond all your peers.”

The island shook harder, and the clouds swirled in a spiral behind the Grandmaster. A massive form took shape in the eye of that storm. The creature was solid blue, the exact color of pure mana, with the body of a serpent and the head of a dragon.

It slithered closer to their small island, indifferent to the tides and the winds. From a distance, the creature had looked like an ordinary mana beast. Now, it was clearly several miles long, with a face that filled the sky.

The creature opened its mouth to reveal a burst of blinding light. Dansin shielded his eyes and shuffled back. Valeria did the same beside him.

Moonfire remained still—a dark silhouette against the light. “Stand your ground,” he told them. “We are the Sons of Talek.” He stretched out his arms and balled his hands into fists. “We don’t cower before the storms. We bring the storms.”