waves, claws that can rend iron and pierce minds scratching at his armor.
Bound by his Intent, the white steel remains strong.
He strides through, unharmed.
Sitting alone with his oldest belongings—his armor, his swords, his crown—he layers his memories into the objects. He molds his Intent, kneading it like dough.
If Nakothi intends to corrupt his mind, then he will leave behind a copy of himself to bolster his thoughts. He will be surrounded by his own unstained Intent.
Alone, the Emperor crafts his own ghost.
He stands before the infinite shadow that is Urg’naut. The embodiment of death and absence. A wave of power intends to erase him from existence.
But his armor, the armor that has faced down each of the Great Elders, flows with his Intent. He does not intend to be erased.
For he is the Emperor, and his will is law.
Calder’s mind went from chaos to order in an instant.
His eyes opened and he found himself on the floor, three others discussing him by the light of a dying match.
They did not feel familiar to him. Even his own name sounded wrong in his head.
He smelled an old enemy in the air.
Mentally, he tapped into the crown contained in the pocket of his armor. It provided another source of his Intent, clarifying his thoughts.
Calder reached out and took the matchstick from Foster’s hand. He lifted it in two fingers and felt the faint Intent within. No one had invested much while making it. Even Foster hadn’t been thinking about the match while lighting it.
So Calder invested it now.
Give me light, he commanded.
The fire bloomed into a blaze that should have consumed the stick immediately. The orange light pressed against the darkness and pushed it back, lighting the area like a torch at midnight.
Andel leaned closer to Calder, gripping his White Sun medallion. “Captain?”
Calder handed the match back to Foster, then reached behind the gunner and into his pack. From it he pulled the final piece of armor: his helmet. The most difficult piece to craft; the one that had required the most research in Ach’magut’s library and the most inventive Reading.
With the helmet dangling from his fingers, Calder turned to walk away. “Follow,” he ordered.
He didn’t need to look back to know they would obey.
They emerged from the ruined fort onto a strange world: darkness hung heavy over everything, the sky completely black, but it was still possible to dimly see, as though the world were lit by a distant gray moon. The darkness whispered and slithered around them…
But when the tendrils of Urg’naut touched him, they flinched back.
As they descended from the ruins, he saw The Testament in the dull light. A chunk of wall leaned precariously over the entrance to the harbor.
That couldn’t be allowed. It would threaten the ship as they left.
Calder reached his Intent down, into the ground, investing the cliff.
Do not let go.
The entire island shook as earth moved out from the cliffside like fingers, gripping the slabs of stone tightly. Grass grew among the rocks, binding them together. The wall was lifted up slightly, and the ground echoed its resolve to maintain its hold.
He braced himself for Reader burn. He had never used active Reading before, but he was sure it would exhaust him. It was surprisingly easy. Why couldn’t everyone do this?
No, he had invented active Reading. It was easy because he had centuries of practice.
Reader burn? He hadn’t experienced such a weakness since he was practically a child. Reader burn occurred when one’s ability as a Reader outpaced one’s constitution. With its recent alchemical enhancements, this body was sturdy enough.
He walked down to the ship, not ignoring the others so much as he was focused on sensing his surroundings. Urg’naut was facing down Jorin and a handful of others, but the Regent was on his last legs.
From miles away, Calder felt blood trickle from Jorin’s nose. The Regent’s mind lost focus. His Intent ran out, and his eyes went slack. The nameless sword that had devoured so many curses spilled from Jorin’s hand, and he fell to the ground.
In the body of a man, Urg’naut stood over him. He wore silver armor and his face was a black sun, an endless hole, a radiating hunger that yearned to devour all.
The Great Elder sensed Calder’s attention, and the empty face turned toward him.
Calder focused on Jorin, communicating a simple message with his Intent.
Hold on.
Jorin felt him…but so did Urg’naut. The shadows around the island off the shores of the Capital rolled, and they all whispered