‘You again?’

I scratch my head, wrinkle my nose, and glance off to the side—anything to avoid his reproachful stare. Okay, maybe I did interrupt his meditation, or his sky-gazing, or the part where he composes haiku or whatever.

‘Ha ha, what do you want?,’ I say as my only defense. ‘People always told me I was stubborn as a mule…’

Yeah, not exactly the world’s most convincing argument. Maybe it’s just in my head, or maybe I’m legitimately blushing with embarrassment, but I can feel the weight and burn of his gaze. And that is definitely not helping my confidence for what comes next…

‘You’re really not going to give this up?’

‘Heh heh. When I want something, I cling to it. Like a tick on a dog…’

Atsadi sighs, and I see his nostrils flare with irritation. He turns to the east, toward the sun just beginning to crest over the horizon…

‘Ever get the feeling you’re an impostor?,’ I blurt out before he can shut me down.

I plop down on the dock and swing my legs back and forth. Below us are the clouds—and below the clouds, certain death.

‘The truth is, I’m only here because I stumbled onto a Chimera by pure chance. And the Bravos were so desperate to say they had one more Exalt…’

Atsadi turns toward me, so I keep going.

‘They let me skip the whole squire thing, and I didn’t even go through the Imhallat. Like, I’m a Bravos… but actually… not really.’

He keeps staring at me, but his expression softens a little.

‘I was no swordsman,’ he says.

He glances past me toward Kauri, the young shepherd boy who recently joined our ranks. Kauri lets out a huge yawn as his Alter Ego nudges him toward the mess hall with insistent headbutts.

‘Like him, I was just a simple herdsman.’

My eyes widen at the revelation.

‘I fought tooth and nail to get where I am. Like you, I never gave up. I sought the help of Eidolons without anyone’s assistance,’ he insists. ‘By myself, I faced the most talented blades, eating dust over and over. And every time, I stood back up again—until the day I won.’

I grit my teeth and clench my fists, trembling with frustration. I can already feel the rejection coming…

‘How many years?’

He turns to me, raising an eyebrow.

‘How long did it take you, huh? Five years? Ten? Thing is, I don’t have that luxury. There are massive Leviathans out there, specters that eat your brain, butterflies ready to freeze your blood, and who knows what else further down the road. Every day I get my ass kicked, and I get back up. But I’m sick and tired of being scared…’

I slam my fist against the railing.

‘Out here, inexperience is the only difference between living and dying.’

Atsadi gazes at the blazing dawn breaking through the clouds, painting them red. He closes his eyes for a moment, like he’s saying a prayer.

‘I don’t do things halfway,’ he says as he opens them again.

I snap my head toward him, stunned. My throat goes dry. My stomach knots. But at the same time, something stirs deep inside me.

‘Does that mean—’

‘If you want to be my squire, you’ll have to keep up,’ is all he says.

I blink—once, twice—before grinning ear to ear.

‘That, I can do.’

‘He’s not a threat,’ I say in a flat voice.

I turn toward Suha, who’s resting her forearms on the railing. I see her shiver in the cold morning air, the altitude biting at her skin. She tightens her collar around her neck, then snickers when she spots Atsadi flicking Kojo on the forehead.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ the Initiate sighs. ‘But then how do you explain what he did during the Battle of Madan Bay? We’ve known for a long time that the Bravos have a peculiar affinity with fire—and we tolerate it because it’s, by nature, a transient force. But stripping reality of its essence… A line was crossed.’

I run a hand through my beard.

‘In all likelihood, by accident,’ I say thoughtfully, watching out of the corner of my eye the young Bravo’s earnest theatrics.

‘That seems more than probable. But the Qorgan cannot afford to ignore any possibility.’

Impatience and anger start rising in me.

‘Keeping watch on Oduro is a waste of time. We’ve been observing him for months, when there are far more pressing matters. Wanjiru promised me progress. Where do we stand on the Perjurers?’

Suha furrows her brow.

‘Our agent among the Muna is currently investigating your hypothesis. If the Storhvit was created by the Chrysanthemum Cloaked Warlock the way you think—’

‘It was. That’s what Kuraokami said, and he has no reason to lie.’

‘If the Storhvit is artificial,’ she continues, ‘we may be able to find clues pointing to his identity.’

I shake my head.

‘He’s here, among us. I can feel it. Maybe he’s watching us right this very moment…’

‘Probably,’ she confirms with a casual shrug.

‘But if the Eugenist is here, we’ll have to move carefully to flush him out without giving him the chance to slip away. Twice now the Qorgan believed it had eliminated him—’

‘Eugenist?’

‘I’m no expert yet, but Wanjiru told me there are possibly four of them: the Anathema, the Censor, the Sicarius, and the Eugenist. Each with their own modus operandi, their own field of expertise.’

“That infamous trademark.’

She nods.

‘And of course, there’s the Iconoclast—the codename assigned to Amahle Kalu.’

‘So the Warlock is this Eugenist…’

Suha remains thoughtful for a moment, then turns back toward me, leaning her elbows on the balustrade.

‘You seem doubtful.’

She shrugs, her expression taking on a slight pout.

‘There’s nothing to say they work alone… or together.’

I watch the clouds drifting by, streaked with violet lightning.

‘From what I’ve read,’ she goes on, ‘their actions seem isolated. The Censor within the Ordis; the Anathema more on the Yzmir side… The Sicarius’s shadow hangs over dozens of unsolved murders and assassinations. But in truth, we don’t know if two of them might actually be the same person, or if there are even more…’

I glance at Senka, who is gliding over the deck, glowing with an orange shimmer.

‘And I no longer know what to think of the secrecy around Amahle Kalu’s imprisonment,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘The Matriarchs keep him on a tight leash, preventing us from uncovering the full extent of his schemes. What are the Lyra hiding?’

‘It doesn’t matter. If we catch one of them, we’ll have a better chance of getting to the rest. However many there are.’

She nods and adjusts her glasses before fixing her gaze on me.

‘But you’re right about one thing. I think the Eugenist is among us.’

‘I see you haven’t wasted any time.’

The remark is nonchalant, the tone bordering on bored. I don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. The Aetheroplasma katkera swimming through my cerebrospinal fluid—along with the other protozoa whose host I am—let me sense the idea of a being long before it presents itself to me.

‘You’ll have to be a bit more specific than that, Sylas,’ I say without lifting my eyes from my workbench.

‘I’m talking about your new little obsession.’

I take off my goggles, set them gently on the counter, then swivel my stool toward him. I smile when I notice he’s wrapped himself in a protective barrier—probably to keep my Manazoa hekekii from digesting his Mana.

‘Akesha? I’d remind you that you claimed my original target for yourself. You can’t blame me for looking for other… diversions.’

So he doesn’t know she’s my assignment.

A lock of hair falls across his face, and I catch myself twitching at the sudden intensity of his gaze. I swallow the retort I was about to throw at him, and he merely shrugs.

‘As long as it’s nothing more than that… a pastime.’

‘What exactly are you implying by that?,’ I ask, my tone firmer than I intended.

The color of his eyes wavers between sapphire and midnight.

‘That certain distractions can make you lose sight of the real objective.’

I grin.

‘The Storhvit and the Belisenki played their parts flawlessly,’ I argue without missing a beat. ‘Last I heard, consuming a Moth chrysalis has become essential practice for traversing or settling in Caer Nilam. I couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome—especially since, officially, I’m not even responsible for that ‘discovery’…’

Sylas wets his lips and looks up at the ceiling.

‘Indeed, we’ve done well. Even if we still have to bring everything to fruition.’

‘You know,’ I admit, lowering my gaze, ‘in a way, I always considered you something like an older brother. You watched over me at the Cebir. You offered me the Storhvit as a testing ground…’

My pheromones seep out on their own—an instinctive reflex.

‘Not to mention the Chimeras,’ he says, reinforcing his barrier.

I nod, feigning a pained expression.

‘Not to mention the Chimeras.’

His eyes narrow. Even with the filter he’s wrapped himself in, I know he’s not entirely immune to the molecules I secrete. I blink slowly, studying his physiological reactions—the rush of blood intensifying, the quickening of his breathing… No. He’s being far too careful. He’s faking it to throw me off. Or maybe just to play. I eventually sigh.

‘What is it, Eugenist?’

I snort.

‘I don’t know why you insist on calling me by the pet name our enemies use for me…’

But I push the comment aside. I point to the microscope and the little glass slide beneath it, where a disc of scarlet liquid lies trapped under its thin transparent cover. He steps closer, and his brow furrows when he sees the droplet of blood.

‘I’m studying the Sap’s impact on organisms,’ I continue. ‘I’ve been tasked with delivering a definitive report on its safety.’

‘The sample comes from someone who consumed it?’

‘Ingested, yes. But the effect is the same after enough inhalation. And I think there’s a snag in our plan, Mage. We’re going to have our hands full.’

I watch his eyes narrow into glowing slits, their Irises lighting from within. I know I don’t need to spell it out. He’ll see the problem for himself. And when he finally does, his gaze hardens into something mineral. His expression, usually mocking, betrays concern.

‘Troubling, indeed. We’ll have to cut out the weed before it spreads.’

‘And what is it you wish for, my child?’

I clench my fists, staring down at my sandals. Puff senses my discomfort and presses his nose against my cheek—harder than necessary.

‘I don’t know. Cut them off before they get started?’

Eru’s Eidolon settles back into his seat, letting a ferret nip playfully at his finger.

‘Nature is a subtle balance between tension and letting things be. That paradox has always driven the Muna, ever since the first bond and the birth of our… ‘Faction.’’

‘But our decisions are carefully thought through. We take time to weigh things…’

Eru lays a hand on the mustelid, who has crawled over seeking a pet.

‘You’re still young. Instinct runs strong in us—much stronger than reason.’

I stumble over my words, caught off guard.

‘So you agree with the Lyra? That choices come from emotion, like Nev says? That reason is just the logical excuse we make for a decision we already chose?’

Eru shakes his head.

‘No. I’m saying that, ultimately, there is no decision. Look inside yourself, Kauri. Know yourself, and congruence will follow.’

My eyes widen.

‘So my choice is already made?’

‘What you must do is accept your nature… or reject it.’

I nibble at my lip, trying to sort everything out in my head. That’s when a flamboyance of flamingos decides to land nearby. I try to stay focused—really, I do—but it’s super hard because they won’t stop squawking. They tilt their long necks toward Eru, and he returns the gesture.

‘I know what I want…’ I finally say, and he nods. ‘But how am I supposed to make him listen? If Niavhe and Kaibara managed it, then there has to be hope, right? Maybe I could ask Tei to mediate, try to make them understand there’s another way…’

‘I doubt words will be enough, Kauri.’

Puff bleats, and instinctively I wrap him in my arms to soothe him. My hands sink into his misty, downy wool…

‘But then, how—?’

Eru smiles just as a realization breaks open inside me. He even laughs when he sees me blinking in surprise. I look at Puff and hug him tight against my chest.

All this time, the answer was right under my nose.