A stocky, well-built man with a month-old beard and a slender, blackhaired woman that looked equally as haggard shoved their way through the densely packed streets of Sonam’s Upper Commons district.

  “We’re late!” the woman shouted above the crowd.

  “Not an Ashlot we can do about that,” the man replied. “Just be happy they let us in with our forged papers. By Adinat, I didn’t even have a chance to shave!”

  “Shaving is the least of our worries! If we can’t confirm the tip, this whole trip will have proven a waste. After all that effort I spent convincing her…”

  Both wore dull gray robes, though if one were to look closely, they would notice the woman’s understated fabric armor was of the finest quality, as was the man’s seric plate, scratched and misshapen though it was from constant abuse and repair.

  Their pushing and shoving was made somewhat easier by the warrior’s plate armor—though with the city’s narrow streets and the fact that armor of some kind seemed to be the fashionable norm for most Sonamites—not by much.

  “Looks like we made it,” the woman said, wiping sweat off her brow as they forced their way into the rear of Sonam’s Upper Commons square.

  The vast space was packed to the brim as what seemed like half the city had appeared in attendance of Imperator Andros Kin’jal’s great speech.

  Rumors abounded. Some claimed Andros would announce his plans for the conquest of the remainder of the Known World, while others theorized it had more to do with the war against Sai.

  And while none knew for certain, there could be little doubt that this speech would be significant given the energy in every tavern, store, and training field. It was the talk of the town. Perhaps more than any speech in recent history.

  All the more reason for the warrior and the mejai to appear in person, considering their recent stint away from civilization.

  “She really ought to have been here for this,” the warrior muttered.

  “We tried, Vason,” the mejai replied. “Not even a proper city with all its luxuries could entice her. Not that I’m surprised. She never was attracted to such things. Alas, it’s about all we can do at this point.”

  “You ever wonder if there’s any meaning at all to what we do, Haymi?” Vason said, shaking his head.

  Haymi looked as though she was about to say something but frowned and looked away instead.

  “These days, I wonder. A lot,” Vason said, too quietly to be heard.

  Trumpets blared, heralding the commencement of Imperator Andros Kin’jal’s speech, putting an end to their discussion.

  The crowd stilled, and all eyes raised to the grand balcony that jutted from the district wall, some fifty paces in the air.

  A figure walked slowly into view, climbing onto a raised dais for all to see. Even from this distance, the pair needed no introduction to know his identity.

  From the way he dressed to how he walked, the leader of the most powerful empire in the Known World was recognizable from any distance. There was a certain aura about him. Something few others could project.

  “Greetings, people of Sonam. My people,” the Imperator began, gripping an ornate stone lectern with both hands. “I come to you on this most auspicious day, not just as your Imperator, but as a father and a citizen. For today will be sung by the bards as the day history was made. As the day every Kin’jal was elevated beyond all their kin who came before. For today, my people, the Kin’jal Empire changes. Today, the Kin’jal Empire extends its borders farther than ever before. Today, our great nation becomes the foremost might this realm has ever seen!”

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  Cheers erupted with such deafening intensity that Vason was forced to plug his ears. Haymi, beside him, watched the Imperator with a face of stone.

  “I don’t like this,” she muttered.

  “The most bloodthirsty empire in history somehow growing even more powerful?” Vason quipped. “What’s not to like?”

  Andros raised his hands to shush the crowd, and when they did, he spoke in a more subdued tone.

  “As you are all aware, some months ago, we entered into an alliance with the most powerful mejai in the realm.”

  Whispers sounded from all around Vason and Haymi, laced with curses and questions. Why would Andros sully their honor so? Why did he show such weakness?

  “At the time, many of you disagreed, and I can see that many still do. Why, indeed, would I taint my hands with their ilk? This is not the Kin’jal way! Hear me, people of Sonam! In but a few hours, Kartara will fall! The Hiranyan imposter king will hang. We will stake his head on a spike for the world to see, and Sai will soon become the newest jewel faceting our glorious empire’s crown! This, I promise you!”

  The hesitant crowd was gone, replaced with patriotic fervor.

  “I have to hand it to him,” Vason said. “He certainly knows how to work a crowd. Not a lot of warriors can do that.”

  “He believes he owns the world,” Haymi replied bitterly. “I suppose his rhetoric flows naturally from that tainted wellspring.”

  “However! It is not Kin’jal that will bleed for Sai. No, Altani mejai sacrificed their lives taking Kartara from our foes. As of today, Kin’jal has expanded its borders farther than ever before! And, it is with pride that I tell you this—The Altani were never our equals! They were never our allies! And now, with their forces weakened after raiding Sai, I announce the annulment of our so-called alliance.

  Today is the day that Kin’jal acquires not just Sai, but the Altani themselves! Today, we declare war!”

  Andros raised his arms skyward, rallying his people.

  … and was met with deafening silence.

  Silence and screams of panic.

  The raucous cheers never came. The thunder of Kin’jal patriotism, gone without a trace.

  And Vason and Haymi could only stare in equal parts awe and horror as two figures appeared out of thin air from behind the Imperator.

  “Is… Is that Ira?” Haymi squeaked. “Vason, that’s Ira, right? It has to be her!”

  “Wasn’t she burned beyond recognition?” Vason asked, equally confused. “What are they…”

  Andros spun, and though his face was hidden from them, the Imperator’s terror was on full display as he crouched and shriveled before the being before him.

  A horned being. One that looked so familiar.

  “No. It can’t be,” Vason whispered, frozen in place at the sheer aura emanating from that figure. An aura that made the Imperator look like little more than an ant.

  “It’s him. He’s…” Haymi trailed off, transfixed.

  “The one they call the Akh Nara? No. No, it can’t be,” Vason repeated, not even sure if he believed his own words.

  Yet there was no mistaking that face. He had grown. He had changed. Both physically and in demeanor. But there was no mistaking that face. It was truly him.

  How in all the realms did that pipsqueak become that? No, that’s not right, Vason thought. It was obvious. He had dived into the Ash, as they’d heard so long ago. Rather, was this not the inevitable result of anyone insane enough to enter and strong enough to survive that apocalyptic plane?

  They had all thought that was the end of it at the time. That, unable to endure Spear’s Edge’s betrayal, Vir had chosen to take his own life.

  It was like a scalpel to all their hearts. Vason himself had nearly abandoned his duties to drown himself in liquor and self-hatred, constantly questioning if there was something he could have done.

  Haymi had been more reserved about it, as always, but she’d taken it no less lightly. They had all changed, but Tia… she had taken it the hardest. The princess had never been the same. Not since that day.

  The fire that defined her and drove her had vanished. Ever since then, she’d been nothing but a shadow of her former self. Roving the world, aimless and broken.

  They all were.

  But now everything was different. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed.

  Young Vir had entered a boy. He had emerged as something more. To say nothing of what had transpired since then. A demon god, no less!

  And then, when Imperator Andros plummeted to the ground, having been kicked off the dais by his own daughter—when the crown went deathly silent—Vason’s laugh rang loud.

  He kept laughing, unable to help himself, until he was crying.

  “What is the matter with you?” Haymi asked, giving him a sidelong glance filled with worry.

  “Nothing. Nothing!” Vason said, suddenly aware of the dozens of stares in his direction. “Rather, for once, everything is right. You’d better hold onto your head, my friend. Because if I’m not mistaken, we’re in for quite a show.”

  Vason opened his eyes wide. He would burn every sight into memory—would memorize every word said.

  For him. And for his princess.