The air on the high-altitude transit platform tasted of frozen ozone and old regrets, a combination that Eryndor Silvaris was rapidly coming to associate with his daily commute."If we survive this," Eryndor panted, his hands braced flat against his knees as he tried to catch his breath on the metal grating of the platform, "I am writing a very strongly worded letter to the First Architect. The working conditions up here are appalling. There's no railing, the wind chill is criminal, and my left boot is officially holding a grudge."Aelith didn't look back. Standing at the very edge of the hovering platform, her silver hair whipping wildly around her face in the gale, she was busy interfacing with the portable terminal they had swiped from Director Vane’s smoldering stronghold. Her daggers were sheathed, but her shoulders were locked so tight they looked carved from the same dark obsidian as the anchors they were hunting."Save your complaints for the High Council, Eryndor," Aelith sna

The impact didn't feel like hitting marble, nor did it feel like a cushion of velvet. It felt remarkably like dropping face-first onto a giant, vibrating holographic keyboard that had decided to malfunction out of pure spite.Eryndor bounced twice—once high enough to briefly contemplate the complex geometry of a vaulted ceiling made entirely of floating indexes—before sprawling unceremoniously onto a floor that hummed with a low, tooth-rattling frequency."My liver," Eryndor wheezed, pressing both palms flat against his stomach as he stared up at the swirling, multi-hued vortex they had just plummeted out of. "I am fairly certain my internal organs just filed for early retirement. Aelith? Please tell me you landed on something soft, like a plush set of encyclopedias or an enemy of the crown."Aelith didn't answer immediately. She rolled off him with a fluid, lethal grace, her boots hitting the humming floor with a sharp click before she immediately dropped into a low crouch, twin dagg

The kinetic warhammer came down with the subtlety of an avalanching mountain, shattering the stone platform where Eryndor Silvaris and Lady Aelith had been standing a split second before. Shrapnel and crushed obsidian sprayed across the subterranean chasm like deadly, high-velocity confetti."Okay, note to self: heavy armor does not slow them down nearly enough," Eryndor panted, scrambling backward across the floating data-bubble bridge as another hammer strike sent a violent shockwave rippling through the glitching dimensional fabric.Aelith didn't bother wasting breath on retorts. With lethal efficiency, she bounded off the trembling bubble, her daggers flashing in the dim cyan illumination as she closed the distance on the scarred mercenary captain. She vaulted off a protruding stone pillar, bringing her heels down squarely against the brute's helm. The impact echoed like a bronze bell, staggering the giant, but the rest of the security squad was already pouring through the gateway

The basalt ledge felt less like solid ground and more like a greased slipway designed by a sadistic architect who hated humanity and loved slapstick comedy. Eryndor Silvaris sprinted with the frantic, ungraceful energy of a man whose life expectancy was currently measured in heartbeats, his right arm blazing with a furious, golden light that cast long, distorted shadows across the drowned ruins of the Sunken Reach.Behind him, the mechanical shadow-serpent let out a deafening screech of grinding iron and displaced water, its massive, spike-laden jaws snapping shut mere inches from the tails of his coat. Every time his left boot hit the wet stone, it emitted a high-pitched, indignant squawk that echoed over the roar of the dark sea."I am officially revoking my consent to be chased by gothic clockwork worms!" Eryndor yelled, his lungs burning as he veered sharply to the left around a crumbling stone pillar. "Aelith! If you have a brilliant, knife-wielding plan, now would be an exceptio

The mahogany double doors of the High Council Chamber didn't just open; they practically exploded inward under the combined force of Aelith’s boot and Eryndor Silvaris’s thoroughly misplaced momentum.Eryndor stumbled across the threshold, his left boot letting out a loud, pathetic squawk that shattered centuries of austere aristocratic solemnity in a single, unceremonious note. He caught himself against a heavily carved mahogany table, his right arm still radiating a faint, residual golden glow beneath his sleeve."Pardon us, coming through, do mind the wet footwear," Eryndor panted, offering a weak, lopsided wave to the twelve terrifyingly dressed elders sitting along the semicircular dais. "We brought a guest. Well, technically we brought a handcuffed insurrectionist, but close enough."Behind him, Aelith stepped into the grand chamber with the lethal, effortless grace of an apex predator. She hauled High Inquisitor Malakor forward by the collar of his pristine, scorched white vest