I pick it up in both hands, the chill of the rough iron spreading into my palms. The mechanical wolf steps back and away from me, attention turning towards the lift—where a pair of gilded sabatons is rapidly growing into an entire and very angry Pash.

She bares her teeth on sight of the beast, hefting her pole-arm the instant she's through the cage door. I put a hand out to stop her, letting the ring of the key drop around my wrist like a weighted shackle as I step between her and the wolf.

"Don't. It's not aggressive anymore."

Her nostrils flare as her Ember does. "Oh, well, that's lucky. Otherwise it could have eaten you by the time I got here to do anything about it." She scowls at the thing, which regards her with what seems like mild curiosity. "Next time, I go first. Or Thrall. Then you."

"Alright, alright. But aren't these things a true part of the Revelry? They wouldn't actually hurt us, would they?"

"They would if they'd been tampered with like the water has. Ascht!" Pash curses as the wolf brushes past her, sniffing and emitting a metallic whine as the lift disappears back up the shaft. A few moments later it returns, this time bearing Thrall. Kaidin steps up behind me to place a hand on my shoulder.

"Nik," he whispers. "You didn't have to do that."

I pull a face he can't see.

"Yes I did."

As Thrall steps out of the lift, the wolf whines and ducks its head to the floor before turning to trot off across the chamber.

Thrall's lupine eyes go wide, following the metallic creature as it disappears into one of the corridors—the one leading to the faint presence I'd felt on the Web. He looks from me and then to Pash, expression pained. Then he bolts off after the wolf.

"What the—Thrall! Wait, we shouldn't get separated!"

But I can hear his steps echoing far down the hall now. Pash curses behind me as I break into a run after him. Her armor clanks rhythmically in my wake. More footsteps echo hers—Kaidin joining the chase?

Silently I pray that we don't all get parted and lost in here. After all, my guards are all any of us have now.

I shouldn't be running after him. What if Saffryn and Howla can't find us?

But I shake off the thought. If they're coming down, they'll see and hear us in time to follow. And I couldn't just let Thrall go off alone...even if he is a warrior. It goes against my every instinct.

Besides, I want to know what that presence is.

The barest spattering of glowing lichen lights the corridor at intervals, so that Thrall's hulking form bleeds into the darkness and reappears in turns ahead of me.

The corridor forks into three at one point, and the wolf leads us down the one to the right. I slow deliberately, forcing Pash to do the same. Enough to hopefully make sure everyone takes the right path. A few more twists and turns later, Thrall slows—approaching the threshold where the corridor opens into another chamber. Somewhere full of bluish light that frames Thrall's leather-and-steel-clad figure as a black shadow in my path.

I stop a full pace behind him, hesitating. There's something about the statue-like way he stands there, gaze cast upward. Awe or reverence or both. Either way it feels too sacred to disrupt.

When he finally takes the next step, I follow slowly. The mechanical beast is out of sight now, somewhere in the chamber beyond as Thrall walks out into its center. My jaw goes slack as I take in our surroundings. The ceiling is vaulted, the rough stone walls shot through with veins of some mineral that must be energy-rich or fertile. Wherever it is, life clings to it—fungi, lichen, moss, and some kind of plant with sprays of narrow, blue-green leaves. But even completely covered over, its faint blue light shines through. Tall, tapered stones circle the space at intervals, embellished by hard-edged Falruni glyphics.

But the chamber's most arresting feature is the immense wolf's head projecting from the rock of the far end, carved from what looks to have once been a natural protrusion. It's streaked all over with veins of illuminated greenery, like the walls, and at least four times my height. I recognize it immediately as the likeness of Fal, patron god of Falrun.

And at the center of its forehead is something I'm almost certain is a keyhole. Thrall slows to a halt less than a pace away from it, his huge, clawed hands coming to rest on its muzzle.

"It's in here," he says, stepping back and turning to me to sign the words.

"What is?"

His expression is pained. "I don't know. But I must get to it."

I heft up the key, letting its ring slide from my wrist to my palm as I offer it up.

"Here."

His pupils flare at the sight. Careful not to graze me with his claws, he takes it—turning immediately to leap up onto the muzzle of the wolf god. His movements are hurried, less careful than they usually are as he works the key into place, hands trembling slightly. From off to our right, the mechanical wolf whines again.

There's a course, rumbling groan, and Thrall jumps off just in time. The stony maw begins to fall open, more blue light breaking through from between the parting teeth.

Kaidin steps up to my side, awe in his eyes. I can feel Pash's Ember hovering near the door, and—rapidly approaching—those of Howla and Saffryn. They step into the chamber just as the jaws grind to a stop.

Inside the mouth, everything save the teeth is carved of the luminous stone, glowing through a bounty of growth. At the center of it all is an ancient bonechrys sword. Iridescent stormy gray and flecked with chips of silver and black.

Howla crows and Saffryn sputters with shock.

"That's...but that's—"

The Artifact of Falrun.

There's a pulse across the Web, so strong I take a stumbling step backward. So strong, even the others seem to feel it—their eyes going wide as they exchange startled looks. But Thrall's gaze is riveted on the sword. As he reaches into the verdant maw and places a hand on the blade, the silence explodes into a sudden cascade of indecipherable echoing whispers. They build to a crescendo as pulse after pulse of energy surges across the Web. And then, all it once, it stops.

The power collapses backward, converging on Thrall with the jarring immediacy of a lightning strike. He drops to his knees, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as tears track through his fur.

"I don't...I don't understand," whispers Saffryn, the tapping of her chair's feet breaking the sudden quiet as she edges forward.

"Did he just bond with that Artifact?"

Howla scoffs. "What else could that've been?"

"But he's not an Heir!"

"It's not the craziest thing to happen today."

"And it's not the sanest!"

"Hey now," cautions the Ariskolese Heir. "This could be your future khajra you're talking about."

"Or yours," snaps Saffryn.

"Stop talking about him as though he isn't here." Kaidin's tone is even, but there's a warning at its edge.

Thrall opens his eyes at last, taking a huge gulp of breath as though he'd been holding it. Maybe he had.

Then he gets to his feet, still trembling slightly from head to toe. "I'm sorry," he signs shakily. "I don't know what happened. I couldn't stop myself." There's a loud scraping as Fal's mouth closes protectively around the artifact again. Once joined to one, there is no need for proximity. The only thing that'll ever break the bond is the Heir it claims at the next Renewal...twenty-seven years from now.

"One down, five to go," says Howla.