Mountains rise in a towering circle all around us, silhouetted against the star-scattered sky. The Grail of Life. An immense caldera that is the site—or so they say—of the first Mirefall, many thousands of years ago.

To my back is Grail City Station, carved out of the face of the mountain itself—from which we've just emerged. To either side of me, from a third of the way up the mountains and all the way down to the Lake of Life, springs the organized chaos of the city—its terraces and estates, apartments, shops, restaurants, inns, shrines, gardens and groves.

The breeze off the lake carries moisture and the myriad scents of baking bread, sweetbeer, and incense. Varied music mingles together with the coos of night doves and the sounds of Blessing flags flapping in the breeze. I'm in awe of the city's beauty and size, utterly overwhelmed by my Other Sense.

There are so, so many people—their embers, pulsing all around me like fireflies caught in a web.

Thankfully my Other Sense only extends so far. The embers I feel most intensely are those within a hundred or so paces of me. Beyond that, I can still sense the presence of others-but more faintly. The further they are, the more they fade-until they vanish entirely.

Armored carriages carry us down to the lakeshore where the ferry awaits, washed in the glow of its own hazy teal lanterns. A mist is building about the lake, blurring the warm lights of the city into a fuzzy tapestry of color.

Dragging my hooded shawl from my satchel, I wrap it about my shoulders as I await my turn to board. Then I scoop up Puka and hold him close while we stand in line at the dock, not yet fully assured in my ability to keep him out of trouble.

Once aboard I find myself a spot on the outer decks—my guards not far off. I stare over the railing and into the black water, hopeful.

There! A flash of something luminescent and green, down in the depths. There and then gone. Hard to tell just how big it was.

Mire's leaked into the lake's waters for so long that even in the thousands of years since it must have all run out, strange beasts are born and thrive here. No one knows just how deep it is, but some of the things that've been sighted are immense.

I look up from the water to see that the city has grown distant, then crane my neck in the opposite direction. There—separated by leagues of fathomless water and the miles of sheer, untouched mountain cliffs to either side of it—is Grailhold. My birthplace. The sight of it snatches my breath away.

It looms high overhead, hundreds of paces above the water, protruding from Grail's Edge like a titanic stone prow. The ferry docks in its shadow, and we all begin to unload onto the platform carved into the stone beneath it. The skylift's already on its way down to greet us, sliding to a heavy stop at the base of its channel.

Stronghands hurry out from an archway that opens directly from the platform into the mountain. The sheen of their silvery-gray uniforms catches the lantern lights so that they almost seem to glow. Those who aren't pulling carts help to load them up with luggage, while others set to work organizing the delegations and directing traffic. Much of it flows back into the corridor from which the Hands had come, including the Hands bearing Kai and Kanry's stretchers. Back to the smaller, ordinary lifts for hauling up goods and those who don't want to wait for the sake of view.

The skylift's doors open and a small unit of stronghold Guards marches out, stepping aside to flank the figure emerging from between them.

She has a gentle face and wears topaz robes, with a honeycomb pattern girdle-sash and ornate filigree work at her bust, wrought in the shape of a chalice with seaweed spilling out of it. A Steward of Grailhold. Mostly likely the High Steward.

Her eyes glitter from behind golden spectacles. She spreads her hands in a broad gesture.

"Welcome to Grailhold, Heirs, Rhavani, scholars, representatives and delegates! Your presence honors us" she enthuses, her drawn-out dialect distinctly Morovani. "The Rhaji await you above."

As a Daughter of the Crowns, I'm in the first group to ascend the skylift. I manage to keep my position near the front, drinking in the increasingly expansive view of the Grail of Life. Puka squirms in my arms and sniffs at the air. A few moments later the channel becomes a tunnel. The view is gone, replaced by stone as we ascend up through the rock and into the overhanging fortress.

I squeeze Puka closer. We're almost there.

Blue light washes over us as the lift comes to a halt in the Receiving Hall. I'm one of the first to step out. There, flanked by guards and attendants, are my parents. All five of them.