Xheavend did not know where Yzer had taken her.
That frightened her almost as much as Yzer himself.
Almost.
The world returned all at once.
Wind.
Cold.
Stone.
Sky.
Xheavend stumbled when her feet struck the ground.
The magical chain around her wrist jerked tight before she could fall.
She caught herself.
Then looked up.
And forgot to breathe.
They were high.
Too high.
The land stretched beneath them farther than Xheavend could understand.
Black deserts rolled toward a horizon stained crimson and violet. Rivers carved through the wasteland like veins through dead flesh, their waters so dark they reflected nothing above them.
Ruined kingdoms protruded from dunes.
Half a tower.
The remains of a temple.
Broken walls belonging to cities that had probably once believed themselves permanent.
Mountains rose farther away.
Faces had been carved into several peaks.
Kings.
Gods.
People Xheavend didn't recognize.
Some had been scratched away so violently that only enormous scars remained across the stone.
And above everything—
the sky was broken.
Actually broken.
Cracks stretched across crimson clouds.
Gold leaked through them.
Something moved behind one.
Xheavend immediately looked away.
End tightened around her.
Four presences.
Closer than before.
Protective.
Angry.
Afraid?
That last possibility frightened her most.
Because End wasn't afraid.
Not usually.
Yzer started walking.
Xheavend remained where she was.
The chain tightened.
He looked back.
His expression remained pleasant.
"Come."
The command touched her body.
Her right foot moved.
Xheavend hated it.
She dug her left heel into the stone.
Yzer watched.
Interesting.
That was the expression on his face.
Not irritation.
Not anger.
Interest.
Like she'd done something clever.
"Again."
The pressure increased.
Her muscles obeyed before her mind could stop them.
One step.
Another.
Xheavend's hands curled into fists.
She said nothing.
She would not speak to him.
She didn't know why that mattered so much.
Maybe because he'd already taken everything else.
Her family.
Her freedom.
Her location.
Her ability to choose where her own feet went.
Her silence—
was still hers.
So she kept it.
Yzer led her through paradise.
That was the horrible part.
This place was beautiful.
Silver-leafed trees swayed beneath the broken sky.
Black roses climbed pale columns.
Flowers opened as Xheavend passed.
She noticed several turning toward her.
Not sunlight.
Her.
Their petals unfolded wider whenever her fear increased.
Xheavend stopped looking at them.
Pools of violet water lay perfectly still.
Golden lamps burned with blue flames.
Obsidian bridges stretched across artificial ravines.
Statues stood between gardens containing plants Xheavend had never seen.
And everywhere—
eyes.
Carved into stone.
Hidden inside mosaics.
Worked into railings.
Painted beneath arches.
Embedded inside statues.
Some blinked.
Xheavend pretended not to notice.
Her father had taught her something important about unfamiliar places.
Don't stare at everything that frightens you.
Sometimes—
the frightening thing noticed.
Yzer noticed anyway.
"You see them."
Xheavend kept walking.
"You see considerably more than you're supposed to, don't you?"
Nothing.
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Yzer stopped.
Xheavend did too.
He turned.
For several seconds, he simply looked at her.
Her hood had fallen during the journey.
Her mask still covered most of her face.
Black hair blew across it.
One pink eye watched him.
One red.
Yzer crouched.
Xheavend stepped backward.
The chain stopped her.
He smiled.
"I asked you a question."
She stared.
His smile remained.
"Who are you?"
Nothing.
"What species?"
Nothing.
"Where were you born?"
Nothing.
"Who taught you concealment?"
Nothing.
"Who were those people chasing us?"
Her fingers twitched.
Yzer noticed.
Of course he did.
"Family?"
Xheavend's jaw tightened.
His smile widened slightly.
There.
She hated herself for giving him that.
Information.
Father had taught her better.
Yzer tilted his head.
"Do you know much about Fragments?"
Xheavend stared past him.
"Please answer me."
The words pressed against her.
Not merely sound.
Command.
Magic slid beneath her skin.
Her throat tightened.
Her tongue wanted to move.
Her lungs prepared to form words.
And then—
End moved.
Four presences closed around her.
The command shattered.
Not weakened.
Not resisted.
Gone.
Yzer blinked.
His smile disappeared.
Xheavend felt the pressure return.
Stronger.
"Tell me your name."
End swallowed it.
Yzer's lavender eyes narrowed.
"Interesting."
Again.
"What are you?"
Nothing.
The pressure disappeared.
Yzer stared at her.
Then—
he laughed.
Not loudly.
Not cruelly.
Genuinely.
That somehow made it worse.
"Oh."
He stood.
"Now that is interesting."
Xheavend's stomach twisted.
Yzer slowly circled her.
She turned enough to keep him visible.
"Something is inside you."
End went still.
Yzer stopped behind her.
Xheavend immediately turned.
He smiled.
"Ancient."
Nothing.
"Very ancient."
His gaze moved across her as though her skin had become transparent.
"I can feel it every time I command you."
His expression brightened.
"My authority reaches you."
He touched his own chest.
"But something reaches deeper."
End gathered.
Four shadows without bodies.
Four voices without mouths.
Yzer looked delighted.
"A being capable of overpowering a Fragment's command..."
His eyes lowered toward the tiny child standing before him.
"...inside you."
He laughed again.
"Wonderful."
Xheavend wanted her father.
The thought came suddenly.
Painfully.
Not Zcain the Ascendant.
Not Sin.
Not the warrior who could turn battlefields into graves.
Her father.
The man who corrected her grip.
Who asked why whenever she made an assumption.
Who sometimes deliberately lied during lessons just to see whether she'd notice.
She wanted Tavran.
Mother.
Anyone.
Yzer stepped closer.
Xheavend stepped back.
He followed.
She moved again.
He continued until her back struck a column.
Then stopped.
Not touching.
Somehow—
that was worse.
"You are frightened of me."
Xheavend said nothing.
"Good."
His voice remained gentle.
"Fear makes people attentive."
Her red eye burned.
And his intentions opened.
Images.
Not memories.
Plans.
Possibilities.
Xheavend recoiled.
A cage.
Years passing.
Herself taller.
Older.
Still trapped.
Training rooms.
Weapons placed into her hands.
Yzer correcting her.
Yzer deciding what she learned.
What she wore.
Where she slept.
Who she saw.
Who she didn't.
A collar.
A ceremony.
A ring she didn't want.
Children.
Names already chosen for people who didn't exist.
Yzer standing beside them as though their existence had always been his decision.
Xheavend didn't understand everything she saw.
She understood enough.
He wanted to keep her.
Not tonight.
Not tomorrow.
Forever.
Yzer watched recognition slowly enter her eyes.
"There you are."
Xheavend shook her head.
His voice became almost conversational.
"You'll remain here."
No.
She didn't say it.
But everything inside her screamed it.
"You'll grow here."
Her breathing quickened.
"I'll teach you."
No.
"I'll discover exactly what you are."
NO.
"And when you're old enough, I'll decide what place you're going to occupy beside me."
The future flashed again.
A bride.
Not because she loved him.
Because he had decided she would become one.
A family arranged before she'd even reached her tenth birthday.
Her choices stripped away one by one until the woman in those possibilities barely resembled the girl watching them.
"And if obedience proves difficult..."
Yzer smiled.
"...we have years to correct that."
Xheavend felt sick.
He spoke about her future like selecting furniture for a room.
Training.
Marriage.
Children.
Her body.
Her magic.
Her life.
All things he apparently believed could become his simply because he wanted them.
Then came another possibility.
Soldiers.
Yzer offering rewards.
Xheavend being discussed like something that could be given.
Shared.
Used.
Her mind recoiled before she could understand the rest.
She didn't want to understand.
Her stomach heaved.
Yzer watched.
Fascinated.
"I wonder what you're seeing."
Xheavend covered her mouth.
He smiled.
"Something unpleasant?"
Her knees weakened.
Then—
a sound came from her throat.
Not hers.
A growl.
Low.
Impossible.
The flowers nearest them died.
Yzer's smile vanished.
Four presences rose around Xheavend.
Death.
Famine.
War.
Conquest.
The broken sky seemed to darken.
And when Xheavend's mouth opened—
she did not speak.
Something spoke through her.
Four voices occupied the words.
And beneath those four—
something deeper.
"YOU WILL DIE."
Yzer froze.
Xheavend heard herself speaking.
Felt her lips moving.
But the words were not hers.
"YOUR NAME WILL ROT."
The black roses shriveled.
"YOUR WORKS WILL FALL."
Cracks appeared beneath Yzer's shoes.
"EVERYTHING YOU BUILT WILL FORGET YOU."
Yzer said nothing.
End leaned closer through the body of a nine-year-old child.
"YOUR EXISTENCE WILL BE ERASED."
Silence.
Wind screamed across the terrace.
Then—
Yzer smiled.
Slowly.
"Oh."
His eyes brightened.
"So you do speak."
Xheavend stared at him.
No.
She didn't.
He hadn't understood.
That wasn't her.
Yzer's attention sharpened.
"And you're a girl."
His smile widened.
"That makes this considerably more interesting."
Xheavend wanted to disappear.
Yzer reached inside his coat.
She flinched.
A syringe appeared.
Xheavend immediately backed away.
Yzer caught the chain.
Pulled.
She stumbled toward him.
Her breathing broke.
No.
No.
No.
He produced a small blade.
Then drew it across his palm.
Blood surfaced.
Black.
Not dark red.
Black.
Thick as ink.
It moved strangely inside the syringe as Yzer collected it.
Xheavend struggled.
His command struck her.
"Still."
Her body locked.
End pushed against it.
Yzer moved faster.
The needle entered her arm.
Pain.
Then—
cold.
His blood entered her.
Xheavend screamed without sound.
The blackness traveled beneath her skin.
Veins darkened briefly.
Her heart struck once.
Twice.
Then something snapped into place.
Not physically.
A connection.
Xheavend felt him.
Yzer.
Somewhere inside the edge of her mind.
She recoiled so violently she struck the column.
Yzer withdrew the needle.
"There."
His voice softened.
Xheavend stared at her arm.
His blood disappeared beneath her skin.
"No matter where you go now..."
He tapped the empty syringe against his palm.
"...I can reach you."
Her breathing stopped.
"Another world."
He smiled.
"Another universe."
No.
"Another realm."
NO.
"Distance won't matter."
Her hands began shaking.
"Physically."
He stepped closer.
"Mentally."
Another.
"Psychologically."
Another.
"Emotionally."
Each word became another lock.
"Until I die, there will always be a road between us."
Xheavend stared at him.
"Don't look so frightened."
His expression became almost tender.
"I'm doing this because I care."
Something inside Xheavend went numb.
That sentence—
more than anything else—
made her understand him.
He could hurt someone and call it protection.
Imprison someone and call it love.
Invade them and call it care.
Father had taught her that words mattered.
Yzer used words to make terrible things sound beautiful.
End moved again.
Violently.
Not toward Yzer.
Toward something he'd said.
Something he'd noticed.
Yzer's head tilted.
"End..."
The four presences sharpened.
Then his expression changed.
"Beginning."
Everything stopped.
Xheavend blinked.
Beginning?
She knew that word.
Of course she did.
But not like this.
Not as a name.
End reacted.
All four presences surged so violently that the nearest windows cracked.
Xheavend grabbed her head.
Anger.
Grief.
Love.
Loss.
Something enormous.
Something old.
Something she couldn't understand.
Beginning mattered to End.
Not merely mattered.
Beginning was dear to them.
Yzer saw the reaction.
His smile returned.
"Ah."
Xheavend's heart pounded.
"So that means something."
End snarled.
Yzer laughed softly.
"Beginning and End."
He considered it.
"No."
His eyes narrowed.
"Even I know that's not quite right."
He began walking.
"I'll research it."
Xheavend remained frozen.
Beginning.
Who?
What?
Why did End hurt when Yzer said it?
"Eventually," Yzer continued, "I'll know exactly what you are."
He pulled the chain.
"Until then..."
Xheavend followed because she had no choice.
"...you need somewhere safe."
Safe.
She hated that word now.
The room waited at the end of a hanging balcony.
Wind screamed around it.
There were no walls along the final stretch.
Only polished black stone—
and an abyss.
Xheavend looked over the edge once.
Mist.
Clouds.
Somewhere unimaginably far below—
Vorakhyrn.
She immediately moved away.
At the end stood an enormous cage.
Not a little prison.
Not something built for a person.
It was large enough that some enormous winged beast could have spread its wings inside.
Nearly a hundred feet high.
Black bars rose toward an arched ceiling.
Purple sigils crawled across every piece of metal.
The spaces between the bars were enormous—
but not enough.
Not for her.
Magic filled the gaps.
Xheavend felt it before touching anything.
Yzer opened the door.
Inside—
bones.
A bed made from them.
Long bones formed the frame.
Smaller ones created elaborate patterns along the headboard.
A little table stood beside it.
Bone.
A lantern rested atop it.
A larger table occupied the center.
Bone.
Two chairs.
Bone.
Xheavend stopped.
Yzer pushed her.
She stumbled inside.
The door slammed.
CLANG.
Purple sigils ignited.
The chain around her wrist disappeared.
Xheavend spun.
Yzer entered.
Then closed the door behind himself.
Her heart dropped.
He walked to one of the chairs.
Sat.
Crossed one leg over the other.
And watched her.
Xheavend moved to the farthest possible corner.
Yzer smiled.
Minutes passed.
He said nothing.
Neither did she.
An hour.
Maybe.
Xheavend couldn't tell.
Yzer simply watched.
Every time she moved—
his eyes followed.
Every time she looked toward the door—
he noticed.
Every time her attention shifted toward the bars—
his smile changed.
She could see his intentions again.
Not clearly.
Fragments.
Knives.
Her skin opening beneath careful hands.
Pain administered slowly because he wanted information.
Her abilities tested.
Her body healing.
Then the process beginning again.
Questions.
Experiments.
Punishments.
Rewards.
Years.
And beneath those images—
something worse.
Something Xheavend did not have the knowledge to understand.
Only that it involved becoming older.
Yzer.
A room.
Being unable to leave.
Her body no longer belonging entirely to herself.
The thought struck her stomach.
Xheavend doubled over.
Vomited.
Yzer's smile widened.
She vomited again.
Nothing remained.
Still her body tried.
Her throat burned.
Tears filled her eyes.
She refused to look at him.
"Interesting."
Xheavend wiped her mouth.
Silence.
"You really can see intent."
Nothing.
"Perhaps not thoughts."
Nothing.
"Possibilities?"
She curled tighter.
Yzer leaned back.
"We're going to learn so much about each other."
Xheavend wished she could stop existing.
Not die.
She didn't want to die.
She wanted to become somewhere he couldn't reach.
A place without Yzer.
Without his voice.
Without his blood inside her.
Without his eyes.
Without the things he planned.
Hours passed.
Then—
a voice came from beyond the cage.
"Warden."
Yzer looked toward the doorway.
"The Ten Markings of Evil are arriving."
Yzer sighed.
Actual disappointment crossed his face.
"I'll be there soon."
Footsteps retreated.
Yzer stood.
Xheavend immediately pressed farther against the bars.
He straightened his burgundy coat.
Adjusted one white glove.
Then smiled at her.
"Well, Pet."
Xheavend's fingernails dug into her palms.
"It was fun."
He walked toward the cage door.
"But work is calling."
His hand touched the lock.
"I'll introduce you to the Ten Markings soon."
Xheavend's stomach turned.
"You'll find them educational."
The door opened.
Yzer stepped through.
Then paused.
He looked back.
"I have a meeting."
The smile returned.
"I'll visit later today."
Xheavend stared.
"Behave."
CLANG.
The door shut.
Purple light raced across the bars.
Footsteps disappeared.
Xheavend waited.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
She didn't know.
She wanted to cry.
Nothing came.
Her body had apparently moved beyond crying.
She looked at the cage.
Door.
Bars.
Sigils.
Balcony.
Drop.
No obvious escape.
She touched her arm.
Yzer's blood was inside her.
The thought made her shake.
What if he really could find her anywhere?
What if Tavran came?
What if Father came?
What if Yzer hurt them?
What if she slept?
Xheavend froze.
Her curse.
Dreams.
The dead.
Her power.
What if Yzer discovered it?
What if he saw?
What if he learned what happened when she slept?
What if he found some way to use it?
Her breathing accelerated.
"No..."
She whispered that one word only because Yzer was gone.
"Please..."
End answered.
LET US TAKE OVER.
Xheavend went still.
No.
Her instinct screamed against it.
Every time End became stronger—
things happened.
Things she couldn't control.
Things she didn't understand.
End had already overdone it before.
Her body paid for what they did.
But Yzer was coming back.
The Ten Markings were coming.
And she was inside a cage.
Nine years old.
Without her brothers.
Without her parents.
Without control over whatever she was becoming.
Xheavend closed her eyes.
"What choice do I have?"
The four presences gathered.
US.
Her lip trembled.
That wasn't what she'd meant.
Maybe it was.
Xheavend looked toward the door.
Then toward the endless drop beyond the cage.
"Get me out."
The world changed.
Not violently.
Quietly.
Xheavend remained Xheavend.
Nine.
Small.
Barefoot.
Black hair tangled around her face.
One red eye.
One pink.
Then—
a line appeared.
Crimson-black light burned from her hairline down the center of her face.
Through her throat.
Chest.
Stomach.
Down.
Another divided her left.
Another her right.
A fourth traveled down her back.
No blood.
No wounds.
They looked like seams cut through something deeper than flesh.
Four locked doors.
Opening.
Her hair lifted.
There was no wind inside the cage.
The left side changed first.
Famine.
Her cheek hollowed.
Her wrist became too thin.
Moisture vanished from the air.
Something growing between two bones of the bed shriveled instantly.
The right followed.
War.
Ember-red veins illuminated beneath her skin.
Scars that had never belonged to her appeared.
Sword.
Spear.
Burn.
Arrow.
Gone.
Returned.
Gone again.
Behind her—
an armored silhouette appeared.
Weapons rusted inside its hands.
Her shadow stretched.
Conquest.
Xheavend did not become taller.
Her shadow did.
It climbed the bars.
Crossed the ceiling.
Crowned.
Veiled.
Armies seemed to move inside it.
And through her center—
Death.
Warmth vanished.
Her breath misted.
Something skeletal stood behind her.
Tall.
Crowned in funeral smoke.
Four presences surrounded one little girl.
Death.
Famine.
War.
Conquest.
Then they overlapped.
And something beneath all four opened its eyes.
End.
Xheavend smiled.
Not because she wanted to.
Because End did.
The expression felt ancient on her little face.
Her head tilted.
Four voices whispered beneath her own.
WE WILL LEAVE.
Xheavend remained somewhere inside them.
Watching.
Feeling.
Not gone.
Never gone.
The cage door stood ahead.
Purple sigils brightened.
End lifted Xheavend's hand.
Tiny fingers touched the barrier.
The cage reacted.
Magic exploded.
BOOM.
Xheavend's body flew backward.
She hit the floor.
Pain flashed through her spine.
End stood her back up.
Again.
A little hand touched the barrier.
BOOM.
This time—
End pushed back.
The entire hanging balcony trembled.
Purple sigils screamed across the bars.
One went dark.
Then another.
Then twelve.
Then hundreds.
A fracture appeared through the cage door.
End smiled.
OPEN.
The cage resisted.
Death touched the age of its metal.
War attacked the magic holding it.
Famine consumed the energy feeding its wards.
Conquest claimed the space beyond it.
Four forces.
One command.
The door bent.
Metal screamed.
Then—
CRACK.
The lock exploded.
The cage door tore from its hinges and crashed across the balcony.
Alarms erupted.
Xheavend flinched inside herself.
Too loud.
Too much.
Footsteps thundered outside.
"BREACH!"
"THE WARD!"
"GET THE WARDEN!"
Six guards entered.
Then twelve.
Then more.
Weapons raised.
Magic gathered.
One guard saw Xheavend.
Stopped.
"What the—"
End looked at him.
Nothing happened.
For half a heartbeat.
Then the guard's body aged.
Not years.
Centuries.
Armor rusted.
Skin collapsed.
Bone became dust.
The second guard raised his weapon.
War entered him.
Every old injury his body had ever survived reopened simultaneously.
He fell.
The third became hungry.
Impossible hunger.
His magic consumed itself.
Then his strength.
Then him.
The fourth tried running.
His shadow stretched toward Xheavend.
Conquest claimed it.
He stopped.
Turned.
Dropped his weapon.
The remaining guards attacked.
End never touched them.
Didn't need to.
Death.
Famine.
War.
Conquest.
The balcony became silent.
Bodies covered the stone.
Xheavend stared through her own eyes.
Horrified.
Stop.
End continued.
Stop.
Another guard collapsed.
STOP.
The four presences hesitated.
Then—
Xheavend's body failed.
The seams flickered.
Her knees struck stone.
The enormous shadow vanished.
War-light died.
Famine withdrew.
Death released the air.
Xheavend coughed.
Once.
Hard.
Something moved in her throat.
Her eyes widened.
She coughed again.
Wet.
Painful.
Then—
BLEGH.
Something tiny shot from her mouth.
Hit the stone.
Rolled twice.
And unfolded.
Xheavend stared.
Two enormous crimson eyes stared back.
Galaxies swirled inside them.
Tiny strands of coagulated blood formed a skeletal structure beneath paper-thin crimson skin.
Huge ears twitched.
Delicate bat-like wings unfolded.
A curled tail slapped the ground.
Tiny claws scraped stone.
The creature shook itself.
Then looked around.
"WHAT HAPPENED?!"
Its voice was so high-pitched that it echoed across the balcony.
Xheavend blinked.
"Wisper?"
The tiny creature froze.
Then looked at her.
"XHEAVEND?!"
Wisper launched himself at her.
She barely had time to react before he landed directly on her head.
Tiny claws tangled into her hair.
"WHERE ARE WE?!"
"I don't know."
"WHY ARE THERE DEAD PEOPLE?!"
"End."
A pause.
Wisper slowly looked upward despite already sitting on her head.
"Oh."
Then:
"END OVERDID IT AGAIN?!"
Four presences became very quiet.
Xheavend almost laughed.
Almost.
Instead—
she swayed.
Wisper immediately flew down.
"Hey."
Xheavend's vision blurred.
"Hey!"
Her knees gave out.
Wisper changed.
His tiny body liquefied.
Blood expanded outward.
Pulled from the bodies surrounding them.
Not consuming.
Borrowing shape.
Red strands raced across the stone and built themselves beneath Xheavend before she could hit the ground.
Arms formed.
A torso.
Something large enough to catch her.
Xheavend landed against it.
Wisper's enormous crimson eyes remained.
Still ridiculous.
Still unmistakably him.
"Got you."
Xheavend breathed shakily.
"I need help."
"No kidding."
"Escaping."
Wisper looked at the broken cage.
The dead guards.
The endless balcony.
The impossible drop.
The fortress stretching beneath them.
Then at Xheavend.
"Right."
His borrowed face tightened.
"Escaping."
A bell began ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Then everywhere.
Red light flooded Yeitshoja.
Doors slammed open throughout the estate.
Boots thundered across distant corridors.
Something enormous roared somewhere below.
And then a voice rolled through the entire fortress.
"THE WARD HAS ESCAPED."
Xheavend's blood went cold.
Wisper looked toward the doorway.
Then toward the cliff.
Then toward the bodies.
Then back at her.
"How attached are you to good ideas?"
Xheavend stared.
"What?"
"Great."
Wisper scooped her up.
"Because I don't have one."
The alarms screamed louder.
And somewhere inside Xheavend's blood—
something laughed.
Yzer.
He already knew.