Illian was true to his word. He offered them food that night, though they remained confined to the small and increasingly familiar space that was their prison. At the very least, the food was recognizable. Carrots, chard, some sort of stiff flat bread, and bird, whether chicken or something more exotic, Silver did not know. Elorian sniffed it before Silver ate, and that silent acceptance was enough, though it was hard for her to worry while watching Seijelar rip into the meat like a starving wild animal.

Morning dawned with the same glorious clarity as had graced the day previous. Silver opened her eyes slowly to find Elorian at the foot of her bed once more, the crimson dragon curled up against the wolf’s side. In moments, she was up and dressed, standing in the doorway of the other room. She spent several long moments staring at the choker Illian had given to her before finally tying it around her neck, where it covered most of the chain of Zeharial’s necklace. When a knock at her door suggested Illian’s arrival, she was glad she had gotten dressed immediately. He entered, Elorian watching with just the slightest hint of a snarl.

“I’m glad to see you prepared.” Silver’s fingers brushed the metal of the choker.

“Yes,” she said in answer, tasting the Altian word on her tongue and wondering at its familiar flavor. She averted her gaze until Bek joined them, and then rose when Illian beckoned the two of them towards the door that, as of yet, they had not been allowed to pass through. The wolf came with her, and the dragons remained behind, after much calming and caressing. Illian brought up the rear.

They passed collectively through one more room, a space dominated by a heavy table low enough that it required no chairs, and a large copper pot. There was very little in the way of decoration, except for another large bowl, a larger pitcher, and a stack of rough towels. For a moment, Silver slowed, awed by the sight of clinging green and crimson plants climbing the walls of the room. Where the green blossomed into tiny, flower-like sprouts, white light danced like fireflies above them, illuminating the windowless space.

“I will remain with you at all times,” Illian warned as he stepped around Silver to a door that opened out onto a busy street. He was apparently nonplussed by her obvious awe. “Reserve your questions for this evening, and let me introduce you if you’re spoken to.” When Bek nudged her to continue, Silver finally tore her gaze away from the mysterious plants and strode passed Illian into the early morning sunlight.

Sun. It had been weeks, months, even since she had last seen a world not transformed by snow and ice and bitter rains. Silver loved the rain, and her favorite time of day was the twilight that came with overcast skies, but even for her, months upon months of gloom were oppressive – to see it day after day had left her distinctly aware of the looming fate of her world, an omnipresent shadow of discord and dark magic.

What struck her was not just the sun, however; the bustling activity and the noises of life that issued from the streets of Alti were a shock all their own. People strolled, ran, and pushed passed her, their clothing foreign and voices unfamiliar. There was a cadence to the Altian language that was not like anything she had heard before. There was also a stench that she found overpowering, the smell of sweat and animal and things she would rather not think about. There were men and women shirtless beneath the sun, dogs and oxen and creatures that looked like reptilian lizards with feathers like slate. And of course, there were other things as well – weapons and carts, books, bottles, and baskets. There were people hawking their wares, singing, laughing, performing, or simply shouldering their burdens in the crowded streets.

It was enough to make her dizzy, even with the wolf pressing reassuringly against her legs.

“The port city of Alti is quite large,” Illian reminded them, and although he did not speak softly, Silver doubted they would be overheard. “It changes with the seasons. In the summer, the ports are liveliest in the mornings, when the fisherman bring in their first catch. Merchants come down from the far north, bringing spelled artifacts and arcane knowledge. The schools send their brightest pupils to study under traveling tradesmen, and the farmers rush their produce to the plazas to avoid the heat. Come Autumn, the most distant tradesmen return north, and our own merchants return from hawking their wares throughout Alti. Spurred by the cooler weather, the smiths heat their forges, and done with their studies, those of the arcane schools return to binding and illuminating books. The festivals begin, and they go on, through the long hours of winter, when the passes are closed and travel north becomes difficult. Many of them spill into Altiannia, heart of our city and home to the grand castle.”

He flashed a smile at the two of them.

“We’ll drift through the ports first, and then make our way to the castle.”

And so they did. On through the hazy hours of morning and into the dusty hours of afternoon, they made their way down streets sometimes cobbled and sometimes stretched with wide planks of cedar, streets that blended seamlessly into bridges over trees and chasms and winding streams. Greenery was everywhere, creeping across houses formed from coppery clay and gray stone, with heavy wooden doors and door frames. Water fell from many of those houses, thin, shimmering sheets of crystal-clear liquid that somehow appeared to take the place of windows. Indeed, there was water everywhere, bubbling up into fountains where people filled mugs and pitchers alike. Alti, Silver quickly realized, was a city enveloped in the peaceful song of trickling water and the crisp scents of wet greenery and rainfall.

Amidst it all, they saw the ports. Great, sandstone and wood buildings looked out over the sea, leaning over docks crowded with people and supplies. They saw the central plazas, bustling with a bizarre combination of humans and beasts, and with magic beyond her imagining. Illian hurried them through most of the insanity, explaining that war with the dragons had put pressure on those living alongside animals within the city. Silver was amazed that, not so long ago, there had apparently been more of them. They saw the largest of the port city’s stables, the smallest of taverns, the most conspicuous of bookstores.

It was exhausting.

“I have never seen such humans,” the wolf rumbled as a few children pelted past, screaming something about fish.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many,” Silver agreed. They were nearing the castle now, a fact that had been evident since the moment she peered above the buildings and realized that the tips of its towers were visible through the trees even from the ports. “Is this really a city of people living in the shadow of the dragons?”

She peered sideways at a large black bird sunning itself on the moss-coated roof of some sort of multi-person home. It was nearly hidden in a thick bed of ferns with fronds each as long as one of her arms. As if sensing her gaze, the beast curled its ebony neck around to fix her with its pale gaze, then slid its eyes to Illian. If there was one thing Silver had noticed on their trek through the city, it was that however much she might try to ignore the man three paces ahead of them, no one else did. Not even the beasts. No one walked in his path – those that did apologized and moved aside. Those who greeted him did so with a shadow of reserve. Was it a reaction to his power, or the MASO’s, or to the king’s? She was not sure.

Oblivious to her thoughts, Illian stopped suddenly. For an instant, she thought it was in reaction to what she had said. Then he gestured through the trees that swayed above the city streets. “Our destination.”

Silver peered upward, feeling her eyes widen.

“Strange magics,” Elorian growled.

The wolf’s fur had risen slightly along its hackles as its gaze joined hers, but Silver did not respond. No words could really strike at the heart of what loomed ahead of them. It was a towering structure of mortar and stone, situated beyond an impassable gate higher than most of the buildings in Alti. Magic seeped from it, bleeding into the perfect blue of the sky and the hot haze of summer that tricked her eyes into seeing strange illusions.

“So that’s the castle,” Bek said, coming to a stop next to her before she even realized she was no longer moving. A cold, icy trickle of dread rolled down her spine. Her hazel green eyes darkened. It can’t be, a disbelieving voice whispered in her mind, impossible.

But it was not impossible. Nothing was impossible, not anymore. She knew it because the building whose grasping shadow she even now failed to escape was none other than the Castle of Divides. She knew it because there was one marked difference between this castle and the one she knew – there were no burns. No scars. Nothing lay broken or crumbling.

“The Grand Castle of Altiannia,” Illian agreed with Bek, “the center of Alti, home of the royal family. Where we stand now is the City of Alti. As I explained earlier, within the bounds of that wall is the city of Altiannia, the royal city within a city. Most people will never step foot there, but they will see it every day of their lives.”

There was another building near the castle, just barely visible above the gates of the wall, that Illian did not point out. Silver thought she knew what it must be, regardless, and a glance at Bek suggested he felt the same. The MASO…its aura was still powerful, still deeply steeped in magic. It had no resemblance to the branch where she had so briefly been employed, but she was rapidly learning how little such a thing mattered in the magical world. It was the MASO. She had no doubt.

To Silver’s relief, they went no closer to the castle gates. Illian guided them back through the twisting streets of Alti with only the occasional word shared between them. When they finally reached his home, which she now realized was wealthier than most they had seen that day, dusk was just beginning to settle over the city. Red and gold hues tinged the clay and wood of the houses, and lit the dense trees of the Issurak forest so they shone as if with the fiery glimmer of autumn. Shadows were thrown into sharp contrast against the dusty earth and the faces of passersby, and the edges of the sky sank into the sea until it was tinged a deep blue.

A breathtaking view. If only, Silver thought, she could enjoy it. If only she had not looked over her shoulder a hundred times since they turned away from the castle, wondering what it meant that the castle was here, at the heart of a prospering city, when she had last seen it decrepit and forgotten. It did not help her nerves that Bek had paled visibly throughout their tour, and was now staring at the back of Illian’s head, apparently deep in thought.

Before they reached the front door, she finally stopped Bek by grabbing hold of his elbow. He did not resist. “Can we have just one minute?” she asked Illian, who had turned to look when he heard them stop. “It’ll be quick,” Silver promised.

He considered for a moment, glancing around the emptying streets, and then looked in the direction of his doorway. “I’ll have the door open. Come in by nightfall.”

They watched him go, neither speaking until he had vanished into the shadowed interior of the house.

“What is it, Silver?” Bek asked, shaking off her strangle-hold on his arm. She let go, throwing one last glance in the direction of the castle.

“What does it mean?” she asked, knowing he would understand. It was clear that he did.

“I can’t be sure.”

“What do you mean you can’t be sure,” she asked, hoping his expression would give some part of his thoughts away. It did not.

“Are you planning to run from Illian?” she asked after a moment. Silver planned to wait, with trepidation, for his reply, but in the end it was so immediate and decisive that it surprised her.

“No. This is an island nation, Silver.”

“So, you just don’t think it’s possible?”

“What part of ‘island’ don’t you understand?”

“He is right, human,” the wolf whuffed.

“It’s a big island,” she observed, crossing her arms and staring between the two of them. The wolf flicked an ear warningly at her tone. Bek, however, simply looked at her strangely, and said nothing.

“You know, don’t you, Bek? Where we are exactly? If Alti still exists, where in the world is it?”

“The more we see,” he explained, “the more questions I have.” His eyes darkened as he skimmed the surrounding buildings and the trees behind them with his gaze. “Illian has the answers, Silver. We need those answers. And I have the feeling you trust him.”

“I do?”

Bek was not looking at her. “The way you trusted Zien, Silver. And me. It’s not hard for you. I’m sure you’d say it’s a gut feeling or something but the fact remains, you trust everyone a little too much. In this case, it might work for us. He’s more likely to trust us if you trust him. He’ll say much more to you than me.”

“No,” she disagreed.

“No, what?” Bek asked distractedly.

“No, I don’t trust everyone. Not Zien. Not you. Not Illian…at least not the way you seem to think. I just trust everyone to be what they are. Predictable. Players caught up in something beyond their control.” He raised one eyebrow slightly, finally fixing her with his gaze.

“Oh?” Bek finally asked her. Silver nodded, but she was done with her outburst. She was exhausted enough as it was. “Let’s go in,” Bek suggested, seeming to understand, or at least to feel the same.

They turned together towards Illian’s home, now illuminated by the eerie glow of the very same symbol she had seen on his selor, painted in green light on his front door.

But she cast one more glance at the castle on her way in.