The Drift carries me across the suspension bridge so fast the planks barely have time to tremble beneath my feet. Fifty meters above the gorge, crossed in a single heartbeat. Below, the waterfall roars, eternal guardian of Rhellaya. The balustrades carved with skulls and flowers blur past my field of vision. That macabre poetry Riwanon wallows in.

  The dizzying void swallows the waters in a thunder that should be familiar by now. Yet the air, heavy with spectral mist, still chills me to the bone, as though wandering souls were reaching out to snatch me as I pass.

  The black stone staircase rises before me. I climb steps worn smooth by centuries. Gardens stretch out on either side, spectral flowers blooming in the permanent mist. A fleeting beauty the banshees tend with quiet devotion. The eternal night that reigns here wraps the palace in a frozen embrace.

  The doors groan at my approach. Two titanic panels of dark wood inlaid with interlocking calcified remains. They open on their own, Riwanon's magic anticipating my arrival.

  The great throne room unfolds before me. An obsidian vastness stretches beneath arched domes that rise into darkness. The columns weave together black marble and macabre relics in that mortified aesthetic so characteristic of Rhellaya. Torches and ghostly glimmers compete for dominance, casting shifting shadows across the dark tapestries.

  My measured stride masks the dull pain pulsing through my veins. The dark flagstone floor echoes my footsteps as I advance toward the dais. My illness progresses. Slowly. Inexorably. Each passing day brings me a little closer to the madness that consumes cursed vampires. But my queen must never suspect. Never.

  My gaze sweeps the room and settles on the throne of bones where she sits. That massive assemblage of human remains and fantastical creatures held together by nothing but the force of her magic.

  Riwanon, in all her terrifying glory. Tall and willowy, draped in a black silk gown with silver-edged borders. Her silver hair cascades to her waist, rippling as though animated by a life of its own. The two furrows carved into her cheeks, remnants of petrified tears, deepen that tragic beauty I know so intimately.

  We are lovers, yes. But I harbor no illusions.

  Her grey eyes gleam with a phosphorescence that cuts through the darkness, and a greenish aura pulses around her like the beat of an invisible heart.

  She manipulates me just as I manipulate her.

  "Welcome to Rhellaya, Seneschal."

  My officer's title in her mouth sounds like a leash. Her voice resonates directly inside my mind. I flinch despite myself. I bow with the deference she demands, my blond hair falling across my face while I reassemble my expression.

  "My queen, it is a pleasure to find myself in your presence once more."

  The words flow easily. Centuries of existence have taught me the art of flattery that sounds sincere.

  She rises, her black cape rippling like living shadows.

  "The time has come, Valerian."

  No preamble, no pleasantries. Typical of Riwanon when impatience burns through her.

  "It is time to finish what could not be accomplished twenty years ago."

  The Crushing.

  Of course she wants revenge for that humiliating defeat. I understand her desire to topple the Ancient Lore Alliance, to return power to the races marginalized by the Empire.

  If only she knew my motivations were far more selfish.

  "You speak of the Crushing?" I inquire, feigning surprise.

  Her smile widens, deepening the furrows on her face.

  "Precisely. The moment has come to reverse the course of history and reclaim the future that was stolen from us."

  My fingers form a steeple before me. My knuckles whiten under the pressure.

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  "Allow me to suggest a strategy. The mission among the centaurs was a remarkable success. Those creatures have agreed to join our cause. Our scouts are already reporting skirmishes at the border."

  A pause. Her eyes narrow slightly.

  "But this is only a beginning. I wish to travel across A?thoria and gather more allies. The orcs, the faes... With such forces, we might even locate the Heart of A?thoria."

  There it is. The crucial lie, wrapped in a partial truth.

  The Heart of A?thoria. No one knows its true nature. A dazzling gemstone? A mechanical artifact? A living creature? The legends contradict each other. But if this Heart truly possesses the power to reshape reality itself... it could reverse my curse. Make me mortal again. Free me from this slow torture consuming me from within.

  "With such power in our hands, we could shape the world according to our will, my queen."

  A gleam ignites in her eyes. That obsession with the legendary artifact. She studies me at length. My shoulders stiffen imperceptibly. Can she sense my duplicity?

  My fingers drift absently to the silver ring on my finger. The metal is warm against my skin.

  "An ambitious notion, Seneschal," she finally declares, moving back toward the dais. "Which factions would you prioritize?"

  I pace the room, my voice taking on that conspiratorial tone she enjoys so much.

  "The orcs of Krag'Durrok will be crucial. Their ferocity will compensate for our numerical inferiority. However, we will need to channel their bloodlust. An uncontrolled horde would serve our enemies far better than our cause."

  My fingers tap lightly against my thigh, a habit I struggle to master when working through complex strategies.

  "Then the faes of Silvandor. Their magic could tip the balance in our favor. But breaking their neutrality will require exceptional diplomacy. We will need to identify what they truly want."

  "A task that suits you admirably," Riwanon acknowledges.

  A note of satisfaction colors her spectral voice.

  "Diplomacy has always been my area of expertise," I agree. "Every people has its ambitions and its fears. One need only discover which."

  "And what of the Heart of A?thoria? Will you continue your search during your travels?"

  The question I was waiting for. I must measure my answer carefully.

  "It will remain our ultimate objective. I will keep my ear to the ground for any clue. But for now, let us focus on gathering our forces."

  An enigmatic smile plays at my lips.

  "Besides, the time has come to make greater use of my spy in Ephesia. We have a valuable asset at the very heart of imperial power."

  Her eyebrows rise.

  "A spy in Ephesia? You kept this resource hidden from me, Seneschal."

  "A necessary precaution. A remarkably well-placed agent who has been feeding us crucial intelligence for several years. It is time to intensify their activities."

  I feign hesitation.

  "And on your end? What of your research into those... shadows you mentioned?"

  Her expression shifts. That unfathomable smile deepening the furrows on her face. She rises again, moving through the room with that supernatural grace that defines her.

  "Ah, Valerian. Always so perceptive. My experiments are progressing in a most... promising direction."

  Her gaze drifts into the void, as though she were contemplating a future only she can see. A shiver runs through me, not desire this time, but unease.

  What abominations is she preparing in the dark?

  "I will need your assistance soon, as it happens. We will need to recruit new subjects for study. And when they are ready, your expertise will prove invaluable in their training."

  The word "recruit" lands strangely. A euphemism, without a doubt. But for what, exactly?

  "Of course, my queen. I would be honored to assist you."

  The lies pile up between us, layer upon layer. She keeps her secrets, I conceal my illness and my selfish pursuit of the Heart. We both dance on a wire stretched over the abyss, each convinced they are leading.

  She glides toward me, her ethereal silhouette seeming to float. Her smile turns seductive, her grey eyes gleaming with an unmistakable invitation.

  "You have a long road ahead of you, Valerian," she murmurs, her voice a caress inside my mind. "But tonight, you deserve rest... and perhaps a celebration of our reunion."

  Her graceful hand extends toward me.

  "Come. My chambers await you. I trust you have forgotten neither the way nor the... pleasures to be found there."

  A shiver of anticipation moves through me, equal parts hunger and calculation. Riwanon in bed is every bit as dangerous as Riwanon on her throne. Yet that intimacy grants me a certain power over her as well.

  I take her hand. My cold fingers meet her strangely warm skin.

  "How could I forget? Your charms remain etched in my memory, my dear."

  We leave the throne room. Our shadows bleed into the darkness of the corridor. The air hums with that familiar tension, passion, manipulation, lies wound together.

  The heavy doors of her chambers close behind us.

  And for a few hours, I can forget the pain gnawing at me, the curse consuming me, and the colossal lie that stands between us. She believes I seek the artifact for her, for her vengeance against the Alliance.

  When in truth, I want it for one reason only.

  My own survival.