I’m too worn out to care about the sand pressing against my neck and palms. The grains are so fine that I can almost imagine I’m adrift in a pool of powder. From my position, I have a clear view of the pit’s opening, an oval of gray sky framed by sheer auburn rock. I can sense the practitioners collapsed all around the pit’s entrance, knocked out by my practice after being sent fleeing by Maria.

While my body feels like a block of lead, I somehow have it in me to sustain a conversation. I’m surprised that Maria has chosen now to reminisce about Yuma Tai’s gala, but it somehow makes sense. It’s easy to talk about that far-off night where everything was different.

Maria gives me a questioning look to my most recent response, a smile playing at her lips. “Ever?”

Would I have ever been bold enough to flirt with–and kiss–Maria without the influence of magic wine? My intuition is to say absolutely not. Not even because I lack confidence around self-assured women like Maria, but because I don’t normally feel such strong attraction for others.

“Fine,” I concede. “I wouldn’t have normally been so bold. It would take rather extraordinary circumstances.”

“Why is that?”

Because, I want to say, I don’t know how to connect with people. I can play the role of polite friend and roommate easily enough. That much was made most clear when I entered the school layer of the Infinity Loop–I realized that I didn’t have anyone I cared about in the university. I had friends, but the friendships were all shallow–I never opened up to anyone about myself. And even when it came to Laura, the girl I took to the movies and the winter formal dance, I didn’t feel more than a small kindling of interest.

“I don’t normally care much for people,” I finally say. I know what normal people are like, how they act, and I emulate well. But it wasn’t until I met Euryphel that I realized what it was like to have a friend, and it wasn’t until I met Maria that I felt desire.

I study Maria’s face as she processes my response. Her expression is composed and preternaturally still, betraying her undead nature despite the influence of the Suncloud’s azure circlet. Up close, it’s a beautiful artifact–simple but sleek, its curves reflecting the light streaming into the pit. For someone who supposedly hates the diadem, she could have taken it off–there’s no one here to hide from.

And yet it still hovers over her head, a crown wrought as though from the bluest of skies.

“Do you care about me?” she says. Cayeun’s artifact doesn’t truly imitate the human body, otherwise I’d be able to sense physiological changes like an accelerated heartbeat or the swelling of vessels that indicated a blush. But with my eyes, I see a slight tinge of redness on subtly-downturned lips, a trace of vulnerability in her gaze.

I suddenly wonder if she’s wearing Suncloud’s diadem for me.

I swallow and feel heat rush to my abdomen, my mouth conspicuously dry. I’m more aware of her hand on my arm now, realizing that she’s not trying to give comfort or reassurances but has something else in mind.

“Cared enough that I couldn’t let you die,” I reply.

Don’t hesitate, don’t second guess, I tell myself. I grab her arm, pulling her closer. She adjusts her position so that she’s leaning over me, her chest nearly touching mine. It’s a bit awkward laying down while she’s sitting, so I use my practice to pull myself up to a seat. Maria falls a bit forward as my position adjusts, as close to me now as she was on the night of Yuma Tai’s gala. Her free hand is steady as it reaches up to cup my cheek, sending a shiver of fire down my spine.

I can taste her breath–it smells of Floria’s flowers. At once I feel that the smell is even more intoxicating than magic wine.

Is this what love is supposed to feel like? I wonder. Suddenly I feel silly–what I feel now is nothing more than physical desire, lust. Love is something more. It’s all the things my mother never had–trust, affection, a safe place to be oneself. Love is finding someone who sees you and doesn’t turn away.

Oh.

All my hesitations fall away as I press my lips to hers. In all honesty, without Cayeun’s diadem, I might feel weird kissing flesh I shaped myself. But if I let my sense of vitality fade, kissing Maria is indistinguishable from embracing the woman I first met at the gala.

I pull away and take a sharp breath. Maria smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “For someone with almost no experience, your technique isn’t horrible.”

I laugh. “You realize my experience is completely confined to you? You were my first kiss–there have been no others.”

That seems to stir something in her. Soft fingers grasp at the nape of my neck as she pulls my lips to hers. The kiss is tender, with an undertone of hungry aggression. She breaks away and kisses me again, then proceeds to leave kisses on my cheek, making her way down to my neck.

“You make me feel like I’m on fire,” I say softly, much of my body’s exhaustion forgotten. I summon the strength to raise my arms and wrap them around the small of her back, pulling her in closer.

“Let me get more comfortable,” she murmurs. She adjusts her position so that she’s essentially sitting in my lap, her legs wrapping around my back. That just sends another wave of shivering heat through my stomach.

Y’jeni, I have no idea what I’m doing, I think, suddenly feeling out of my depth.

As though sensing my trepidation, she cups my cheek again and smiles gently. “Don’t be self conscious, Ian. Do you trust me?”

I nod.

Her smile widens. “Good.”

She leans in for another kiss and moans softly as I pull her closer to my torso, her breasts firm but yielding against my chest. Distracted, I only notice the approach of enemy peak practitioners as they scream into the pit. They must have woken up after I knocked them out.

“Fuck no,” I mutter, and all of them drop, out like a light.

Maria pulls away and raises an eyebrow. “That’s hot.”

“You’re hot.”

She breaks out into mirthful laughter. “I never thought we could have something like this.”

“Me neither.”

Maria sighs. “I think we should stop for now. I–” she cuts off, as though trying to rephrase her words. “You deserve better than making love in a sandy pit. Besides... I think we should take this a bit slower.”

Slower? “Why?”

“I just want to do this right.” She frowns and laughs bitterly. “Y’jeni, I don’t even know what that means. All I know is what I’ve experienced in the past–passionate nights followed by cold days. I don’t want that. I deserve more. You deserve more.”

“Haven’t we already been taking things slow?” I ask.

She chews her lip. “Kind of. But we’ve been with each other as compatriots, allies. Romantic relationships are different.”

Having never really been in such a relationship, I don’t understand what she’s getting at.

“Look,” she continues, stroking my cheek with a thumb. “Some things are best savored. You build them up carefully, investing in a foundation that will last.” Her eyes turn skyward. “I don’t know how people plan for eternity–I’m not sure if you can plan for that long. I can’t fathom it. But I really like you, Ian. If I can plan for eternity, I will.”

Her words place a lump in my throat. I knew Maria was a romantic from what I saw in her soul. She’s the type of person who tried to create an earthly utopia, the ends of her vision justifying the authoritarian means. But this is a different kind of romanticism, one I never saw in her memories.

“Okay,” I say softly, pressing my forehead against hers as I pull her into a hug. We hold our embrace for a minute before she pulls away.

“There’s something I’m curious about,” she says.

“What?”

“There were a few practitioners who resisted my oath. It’s possible that they were able to fight back because they didn’t lose their minds.”

I snort a laugh. “Is that what you were thinking about for the past minute?”

She chuckles. “I confess I let my mind wander. Being embraced is almost meditative.”

I groan and try to disengage, only to remember that Maria’s legs are around me. “Help?”

With a smirk, she stands in one fluid movement, somehow managing to unwrap her legs and do some kind of side-pirouette.

I use my practice to get up, hovering a few inches above the ground. “So, before we go after these practitioners, I want to summarize what you said before so we’re both on the same page.”

She nods. “Sure.”

I compose my features to give her my most serious, earnest expression. “Date first, fuck later?”

She gives me a scandalized look. “Wow. Not terribly inaccurate, but also not what I was expecting.”

“How come?”

Snorting, she replies, “You’re surprisingly vulgar today.”

I grin. “You only bring the best out of me.”

—

An unconscious practitioner lies before us, a woman in a red robe with plates of thin, sturdy armor reinforcing her chest, abdomen, and legs. Her black hair is tied in a bun. She looks like she could be Karanos’ relative, the resemblance not overwhelming but still notable.

We selected her because of the reflection we saw in the ornate dagger–the woman wreathed in the resplendent flames of a phoenix, with fiery wings extending out to either side. It was the most dramatic reflection by far and piqued our interest.

Maria’s finger scorches the rock with a concentrated gout of flame, inscribing an oath directly onto the pit wall. Since we left her void storage back with Karanos, she doesn’t have a stylus or paper for oaths, but that’s only a minor impediment.

“It’s done,” she says. “Wake her up.”

The practitioner woman jolts, her pupils flitting around wildly. She can’t move her body since it’s under my control, but I can feel her struggling to move her arms and legs.

“Hello,” Maria says. “If you can understand us, blink twice.”

Her pupils continue to manically rove for a few seconds, but eventually she settles down when she realizes that Maria is still waiting for a response.

She blinks twice.

“Good. We have some questions we want to ask you. We’re gathering information on a man named Karanos.”

Her entire body goes tense, her eyes becoming hard. I loosen her face muscles so she can talk. While under Maria’s oath, she’ll be forced to answer truthfully.

“Karanos,” she says slowly, as though her tongue is thick in her mouth.

“Do you know him?” I ask.

“Oh yes–Karanos the Disowned. Karanos the Usurper. Karanos the Betrayer. All very generic but accurate titles. I’m unsure how you do not know of him.”

“What is your name?” Maria interjects.

“Sierra Jun,” the woman replies.

“Whom did he betray?” Maria inquires.

“Everyone,” Sierra replies. She seems almost surprised by her own words. “Aside from the forsworn.”

I frown. “Forsworn?”

The woman’s expression grows even more confused. “Those without the gift of power,” she replies, scowling. “Who are you people?”

“Ascendants from another world,” Maria replies. “We’re investigating what he did before his ascension.”

“Before...? But he hasn’t ascended. I didn’t even know he was chosen to become an immortal.” She looks stricken. “Why would someone like him be chosen?”

“We’re from the future,” I say, spitballing an explanation.

Sierra’s eyes narrow with skepticism. “Perhaps that’s true, perhaps it isn’t. What do you want to know about him? I’ll talk, it’s not like his deeds are shrouded in secret.”

“You said that he betrayed everyone,” Maria says. “What did he do?”

“I’m going to assume you know nothing since you’ve claimed to be ascendants. Karanos was once a hero of the people. A child born to forsworn living in the remote Bro’kest mountains, he awakened great Light and Beginning affinities.”

Beginning affinity? That’s patently false.

The woman continues: “Brought under the tutelage of the Dominion, he rose to the top of the Academy and became the youngest appointed right hand of the grand vizier in a millenia.”

She’s given a rather flattering introduction, so why does she doubt that Karanos could ascend? Because he’s an enemy?

“Did you work with him?” I ask. She’s given us a cliff notes summary, but for her to be here, caught in the glass blast, suggests that she might know him more intimately.

“I’m a generation younger–he was my commanding officer in the Belathrumin purge.”

I glance at Maria. Seems like there’s a lot of context here that we’re missing. “What’s a purge?”

She looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “If less than 0.05% of a town awakens a gift, the Dominion places their population on probation. Less than 0.01% and they call us in for a purge to redistribute possessions and land to more promising bloodlines.”

“Purge sounds like a rather violent term,” Maria notes.

Sierra smiles thinly. “That’s why it’s accurate.”

I think I’ve heard enough, Maria transmits. We already knew Karanos’ world was problematic from earlier comments. I can’t fill in the details, but it’s not hard to imagine what might have transpired.

I don’t think we’re going to learn the full truth from Sierra, I say. It’s like she’s been brainwashed. If we’re actually curious about Karanos’ past...I think the best thing to do is just ask.

Maria nods.

I knock the woman back unconscious and hold the mystical dagger over her chest, the blade pointed over her sternum. Will she really ignite like a bird of flame?

I plunge the dagger down and the woman’s chest splits. She shifts like she’s folding inside out, reminding me of that shapeshifting woman back in Vracoola’s Domain. A fiery inferno consumes her body and she screams, but not in pain. It’s the shrill song of a bird of prey, like she’s rejoicing in her rebirth.

“Karanos tried to strip away the foundation of our world,” a disembodied voice resounds, bearing only a passing resemblance to Sierra’s voice. “He betrayed the Bloodline Cause, usurped the Seat of the Dominion, and was disowned for his misdeeds.”

“All sound like good things in my book,” I say. I knock out Sierra with a flick of my hand. Her body still blazes; I wonder if the flames will naturally extinguish.

Snapping open my plane compass, I shake my head toward Maria. “It’s a shame we didn’t find any prize at the end.” We scoured the pit, but it was empty. None of the practitioners we captured had any items of value, either.

“It was never guaranteed with Karanos being around.” She follows me over to the tear in the veil and slashes reality open with a drop kick. She pulls my hand as she walks through, sending a shiver of heat to my stomach.

“Wow,” Karanos says, turning around as we reappear. “I was worried you got lost. It’s been seven seconds since I emerged.”

“We didn’t take that long.” Maria says, releasing her grip and crossing her arms across her chest.

Suddenly Karanos grins, his stoic expression completely ruined. “Wait. Did you two...?”

“Next plane, Karanos,” I interrupt. “Next plane.”