Caster accepted all of it. He accepted the bright, brilliant golden truth. He accepted the dark, freezing, heavy necrotic ash. He accepted the guilt. He accepted the love. He stopped fighting himself. In the dark, empty space of his soul-scape, the tiny, terrifying shadow of the Ash Warden tried to rise up. The dark god tried to seize control, expecting Caster to surrender. But Caster did not surrender to the god. He embraced it. "You are just a tool," Caster’s mind whispered to the dark shadow. "You are just gravity. You are just consequence. And I am the man who holds the hammer."The dark shadow shrieked, but it could not overcome the massive, overwhelming, absolute force of Caster’s unified human will. The shadow dissolved, melting into Caster’s own spirit. The magic became his to command, entirely and completely. Caster opened his eyes. The change was breathtaking. His eyes were not glowing with the sick, pale gray fire of the monster. They were not blazing with the blindin

"What are we looking for?" Sikoa asked, walking into the dusty room. She picked up a strange, twisted metal rod and frowned at it. "We need the cloaks," Caster said. He walked over to a large wooden wardrobe in the corner. He opened the heavy wooden doors. Inside hung three long, heavy cloaks. They did not look like military armor. They looked like simple, dark gray monk robes with deep, wide hoods. Caster reached out and took one of the cloaks off its wooden hanger. The moment Caster lifted it, his arms shook. The cloak was incredibly, unbelievably heavy. "Here," Caster grunted, handing the cloak to Sikoa. Sikoa took the cloak. Her knees actually buckled slightly under the sudden weight. "By the Light!" Sikoa gasped. "What is this made of? It feels like carrying a dead horse!""It is woven with threads of pure, solid silver," Caster explained, taking a second cloak from the wardrobe. "And the inside is lined with flexible, highly dense lead. The ancient founders wore these when

Caster looked at Solon. "Solon," Caster said, his voice ringing with gentle but unbreakable authority. "Can you patch us into the global broadcast network again? Can you hijack the communication crystals one more time?"Solon swallowed hard. He looked at his bloody, trembling hands. He was so weak he could barely stand. But he looked at Caster’s glowing eyes, and he found a tiny, hidden spark of strength deep inside his own tired heart. "I am the Chief Archivist," Solon said proudly. He pushed his cracked glasses up his nose. "I can hijack anything."Solon limped over to the heavy brass sub-terminal attached to the stone pillar. "Sikoa," Solon called out. "I need your muscle. Bring the portable kinetic generators. We need massive power."Sikoa dropped her heavy brass stabilizing rods. She ran over and grabbed the two heavy brass boxes with the iron cranks. She set them down next to Solon. "What is the plan, book-worm?" Sikoa asked, rolling up her sleeves. "The white marble shell of

"They lied to you," Caster declared. The absolute truth in his voice resonated in the bones of every person listening. "This is not a weapon. This is the fabric of the universe breaking apart."In the dark, ruined streets of Glassview, a mother hugged her two crying children. She stared at a floating blue sphere showing Caster’s face. "For a thousand years, a dark god called the Ash Warden was trapped in the earth," Caster explained simply, using words everyone could understand. "Tonight, that god was killed. The cage is empty. But the machine that held it—the ancient network of magic buried under the dirt—is rebooting. It is turning itself on."Caster leaned closer to the crystal in his underground room. His golden eyes burned with fierce urgency. "Elias Thorpe, the leader of the Crimson Alliance, tried to absorb this machine," Caster announced to the world. "He tried to become a god. But he failed. His engine exploded. His failure sent a massive, corrupted shockwave through the ea

Earlier, the tunnel had been filled with blinding, terrifying, sick purple and red light. It had looked like a boiling volcano. The planar friction had been so intense that the air was literal fire. Now, because the war on the surface had stopped, the tunnel was changing. The boiling red and purple light faded. The terrifying heat died away. The tunnel became a deep, dark, calm shaft of smooth blue crystal. A soft, cool wind blew up from the bottom. "The friction is gone," Caster said, his voice full of hope. He pulled the heavy silver-lined hood over his head. "The tunnel is stable. We can jump."Sikoa walked up beside him. She wore her heavy gray cloak and held her brass rods. "How do we get down?" Sikoa asked, peering into the bottomless blue hole. "Is there an elevator?""No," Caster said. "We just fall. The ancient magic in the blue crystal walls will control our descent. It will slow us down before we hit the bottom. Just keep your arms tucked in and do not touch the walls."