The sky above the Black Spires was a bruised purple, but the ground of the Academy’s containment facility was a blinding, clinical white. This place was called "The Needle’s Eye." It was a separate fortress, built specifically to hold things that the Empire found "unnatural." It was a building of white stone and silver glass, surrounded by a moat of liquid light that would vaporize anyone who tried to swim across.Inside the central chamber, the air was cold and smelled like lye.Pip, Mia, and Leo were still strapped to their silver chairs. The "Radiant Needles" were still in their necks, pulsing with a rhythmic, silver light. Every pulse sent a wave of agony through their bodies, and every wave of agony traveled down the tethers to Drogo Payne.Three Academy Inquisitors stood around the children. They were not like Kaelen. They were younger, their faces full of a cruel, academic curiosity. They held clipboards made of glass and pens made of gold."The signal is steady," one Inquis

Drogo Payne led his small group deeper into the earth than they had ever gone. They had abandoned the Bone-Yard. It was too close to the surface. It was a place the "Tunnel-Hounds" could eventually find. They needed a place where the very concept of "Light" was a myth.They found it in a place called the "Abyssal Root."It was a natural cavern miles beneath the bedrock of the Capital City. Here, the air was so cold it didn't just bite; it stung. The walls were made of raw, black diamond that had never seen a torch. The only sound was the slow, heavy grinding of the world’s tectonic plates. It was the foundation of the continent. It was the place where the Empire’s roots were buried in the dark.Drogo stood in the center of the cavern. He was ten feet of polished black stone, his silver-marbled skin glowing with a faint, rhythmic violet light. He looked like a pillar of the earth that had decided to wake up.Behind him, the thirteen children stood in a semi-circle.Vesper, Pip, Mia, a

The Pit was a place of echoes. Every drop of water that fell from the ceiling sounded like a hammer hitting a drum. Every breath the three hundred Thralls took sounded like the wind blowing through a cave. But today, the echoes were different. They were the sounds of a world being reshaped.Drogo Payne stood in the center of the massive cistern. He was ten feet of polished black obsidian. His silver-marbled skin caught the faint violet light of the Abyssal Torches, making him look like a constellation of dark stars. He was no longer just a boy who had survived the Chasm. He was the Architect. He was the one who would turn this damp hole into a kingdom."The ceiling is too low," Drogo whispered. His voice was a deep, vibrating chime that made the black water in the central pool shake. "The air is too heavy. We need more room for the shadows to breathe."Drogo did not use a shovel. He did not use a pickaxe. He did not even use his hands. He raised his right arm toward a massive pile of

The Pit was no longer a dead cistern. It was a living thing. It breathed through the ventilation shafts. It ate the waste of the city above. It pulsed with a slow, violet light that matched the heartbeat of its master.Drogo Payne sat on his throne. The chair was not made of gold or silk. It was a massive construct of compressed earth and solidified shadow. It was cold to the touch, and it felt as heavy as a mountain. Drogo’s ten-foot obsidian body was perfectly still. His silver-marbled skin glowed faintly. He was connected to every corner of the fortress through the tethers in his mind. He was the brain. The Pit was the body.Drogo looked out from the Inner Sanctum. He could see the main hall of the cistern. It was busy. It was organized. It was a hive of "Nothingness.""The world above has a hierarchy of light," Drogo said. His voice was a low, vibrating chime that echoed through the tethers. "The strong rule the weak. The bright burn the dim. But in the Pit, we have a hierarchy

The training ground of the Pit was a flat, wide circle of Abyssal Granite. It was located at the very bottom of the cistern, far away from the noise of the sewage pumps and the humming of the Defensive Battery. The air here was perfectly still. It was so quiet that you could hear the sound of a single drop of water hitting the floor a hundred yards away.Drogo Payne stood in the center of the circle. He was a giant of black stone, ten feet tall. His silver-marbled skin glowed with a very dim, steady violet light. He looked like a mountain that had been carved into the shape of a man.In front of him, the thirteen Shadow-Walkers stood in a line. They were small compared to Drogo, but they were no longer weak. Their charcoal skin was hard. Their white hair was long and ghostly. Their silver eyes were fixed on Drogo’s face. They were his "Jagged Edges," and today, he was going to sharpen them."Listen to me," Drogo said. His voice was a low, heavy rumble that traveled through the stone