Aetherion didn't walk toward the stairs. That would have taken too long, and the high-pitched singing emanating from his armpits was rapidly eroding his legendary patience. Instead, he simply exhaled, and the space between the ballroom floor and the floating balcony folded like a discarded napkin.In a flicker of midnight-blue-turned-neon-pink, he appeared directly in front of the group of young immortals.The laughter died down, replaced by a tense, excited silence. The youth in the center—a girl with hair that shifted through the colors of a bruised sunset and eyes that sparkled with far too much caffeine—didn't look afraid. She looked like she had just won the lottery."You’ve got to be kidding me," Aetherion said, his voice flat. He raised an arm, and the glitter on his sleeve immediately began a four-part harmony of a nursery rhyme. "Is this supposed to be a joke? Or is 'disruptive art' just a fancy way of saying you never grew out of your toddler phase?"The girl grinned, leanin

The neon-pink numbers on Aetherion’s wrist didn't care about his dignity. They just kept ticking, a silent, glowing heartbeat that pulsed against his skin. 23:15:42. He was back in the Grand Hall, though he’d tried his best to blend into the shadows of the mezzanine."You know, for someone who claims to hate attention, you’re currently wearing a glowing beacon on your arm," a smooth, melodic voice drawled from behind a pillar.Aetherion didn't even look. He knew that specific tone of polished mischief. "Go away, Cassian. I’m in the middle of a crisis."Cassian Evermore stepped into the light, looking every bit the high-society fixture in a suit tailored from woven moonbeams. He held two flutes of something bubbling and iridescent. "A crisis? Aeth, the whole court is calling it the 'Alchemical Tryst of the Century.' I’ve heard three different versions of the story. One involves a marriage proposal, one involves a duel, and the third—my personal favorite—claims you two are planning to o

The violet sky above the Edge of the Map didn’t just look old; it looked exhausted. Every few seconds, a shimmering flake of reality would peel away from the clouds and dissolve into the prismatic whirlpool below. Aetherion watched a spire—a beautiful, jagged tooth of white marble—simply lose its grip on existence and vanish."You’re staring, Aeth. It’s rude to gawk at a lady’s home when it’s having a breakdown."Zinnia’s voice was thin, stripped of the manic energy she’d brandished like a shield at the Gala. She didn't look like a rival anymore. She looked like a part of the landscape—fading, frayed, and dangerously close to the end.Aetherion didn't look away from the crumbling horizon. "It’s not just the island, is it? You’re losing your tether.""Found me out, did you? I guess the Archives aren't totally useless," Zinnia said, kicking a loose pebble into the abyss. She didn't wait for it to hit the bottom. There was no bottom. "The Everdawn wasn't just a fancy title for the Duke’s