"I can't believe I'm hearing this, Nithercott." Kommora's stare burnt a hole through Seiren's soul. She seemed to have improved a lot in just two days, back on her feet and seemingly having forgotten her doctor's instructions. Dark circles sat in the wrinkles beneath her eyes, which were pools of midnight, bottomless and unfathomable. "Absolutely not. Are you seriously out of your mind? And—" Her eyes narrowed. "Were you not supposed to be on a train en route to Cliffe to complete the rest of your sentence yesterday?"

Seiren shrugged. "Kristen Harred's daughter. Why are you surprised?"

"I told you. Any Karman crossing the border is a declaration of war."

"Karman mages. Unless you're happy to let Kristen off for her crimes."

"Need I remind you of your sentence, of which you have only served five months?"

Seiren bit her lips. "Double it. Triple it. I don't care. I'll serve it when I come back."

"Seiren!" Madeleine sounded horrified. Seiren turned to her, a fierce look burning in her eyes.

"If we don't go now, there will never be a chance again. She'll disappear from sight and return one day and kill us all — we're as prepared as we ever can be, and stop her before she has another awful plan." She whirled back to Kommora. "You don't have to approve. But we're here because we need your help."

"I can't approve, but you have a point." Kommora shook her head. "Your absence will not go unnoticed. Likely you'll be re-trialled — if you make it back, that is. If this plan gets out, our heads will roll — as will the rest of the country's."

"I'm sure if you ask Dankworth and the others discreetly, they'd hardly criticise," Seiren said dryly.

"I'll give you that — you're no shit-for-brains. Honestly, I can barely tell when your ideas are madness and when they're genius."

"I was once told there is a thin line between the two."

Kommora's lip quirked. "I'm not saying this plan isn't doable. But if you're caught the consequences will be heavy."

"For us, not for Karma."

"Indeed. You are surprisingly thoughtful of others, for a change."

Seiren scowled.

"I'm keen to see the end of Kristen Harred as much as the next king's mage, so whilst I can't say I officially approve, this plan might just work."

Seiren shot Madeleine a triumphant look. Madeleine merely sighed in despair, dropping her head in her hands.

"You have to be careful not to do any Karman magic there. It's deep shit enough if you're caught as illegals from Karma as civilians, as mages you've pretty much signed my execution order and Karma's declaration of war."

"I'm well aware."

"Hannans are notorious for 'an eye for an eye'. They don't have the same respect for honour and pride; they're a more pragmatic culture."

"Okay, okay." The brutality of the Hannan culture was well-known in Karma. It wasn't as if Seiren wished to go there for a holiday.

"Fine." Kommora's attitude became business-like. "We have contacts in Leitholm, just north of Acrise in Hanna. They have been close affiliates with me for several decades, so their loyalty is second to none. I suggest you make contact with them there and see where it takes you. Knowing your history, however, Nithercott, I'd suggest you don't clash head-to-head with any member of the Daemonium. They're not like the common demon summoners you see popping up occasionally in Karma. These are generations of masters, bred for excellence and power, and only the strongest summoners from each house can become part of the group. Against any individual one, you don't stand a chance, let alone them as a group, let alone with their very well-trained, exceedingly powerful demons."

"I get it. No direct conflict."

"I think Martel Solidor will be able to pull some strings for you to get closer to the Daemonium, but I'll leave things in his capable hands."

Seiren nodded. She had half-expected Kommora to rip her a new one for such an outrageous idea, but, perhaps it was due to her frustration with Kristen's escape or perhaps she was still weakened from her injuries, she didn't. And when the twins left her office, they had the paperwork needed to cross Acrise without issue and Seiren's mage tattoo had been inactivated to prevent it giving her status away, should her shoulder be exposed. They made a quick trip to Bicknor, packing light travel gear with the discreet, conservative Hannan clothing and Hannan currency Kommora conjured up for them, and departed northwards on the train in casual wear.

The view changed, beginning with lush evergreen trees peppered with Karman blooms, explosions of orange and violet and crimson blurring in a dazzling kaleidoscope of colour and fading to stark stretches of slate-grey and sandy desert, interspersed with ochre fields of desiccated grass and bare trees, all standing beneath the embrace of an endless powder blue sky.

The fortress of steel and stone that was Acrise, standing strong to maintain the Karman-Hannan border, loomed into view across the barren land. The damage from breaches by demons and then by Seiren's monstrous experimentations six months back had long been repaired and the black-tiled towers spiralled into the skies once more, their tips as sharp as the spears in the hands of the guards watching them. The train slid into the city's gated jaws, plunging into the abyss within.

"This brings back memories," said Seiren, stepping off the train with her rucksack slung over her back. Madeleine hopped down beside her, her boots scraping on the uneven ground with cracks running across it like slender spider legs.

Seiren produced Kommora's paperwork when she and Madeleine were searched as part of Acrise's security protocols. The rules had gotten stricter, with guards rummaging through all of their possessions, requesting the removal of their belts and boots, patting them down, and then applying a violet rune on them to search for any hidden magic items on their bodies — the last of which they omitted after Brigadier General Grader read Kommora's letter with a raised eyebrow. He'd acquired a new scar since Seiren had last seen him when Domic Butterworth ordered the state mages to murder the Acrise citizens and then released Seiren's experiments on the entire city. It was still raised and pink, running from his right brow over his eye and down mid-cheek. The right eye that was previously grey now had a white haze over it and stared with the wrath of the ghosts from long past, unseeing and unnerving. She wasn't sure which eye she should be looking at.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he growled, gesturing with the letter.

"Kommora sanctioned it."

"Mage Haigh knows what she's doing. Do you?"

Seiren stared, affronted. No doubt he still remembered her for the blood fest she'd brought upon Acrise needing Kommora's contingency plan to save them all.

"I'll have to speak to Mage Culpepper to get her to drop the barrier for you to pass through." He shook his head. "It's madness, to go to enemy territories now of all times."

"I'm not looking for your approval," Seiren snapped. Madeleine elbowed her.

Muttering to himself, Grader marched off to find the state mage of Acrise. Madeleine fanned herself.

"I didn't realise just how hot it gets. Winter was nippy though. There are some things I don't miss about having my body."

"What, like bodily functions?" Seiren said wryly.

"And actually feeling tired and feeling the hot and the cold. I'm sticky and disgusting all over. I do miss food, though. I'd forgotten just how beautiful a good pastry is. And it's a nice change from forever being on the receiving end of citrus-y foods."

"Nothing wrong with citrus foods," Seiren said, hurt.

Henley Culpepper returned soon with Grader, her eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. She wore a short-sleeved tunic beneath her rainbow-lined black mage's cloak. Kommora's letter was neatly folded in her long-fingered hands. Her blue eyes appeared grey, unimpressed and piercing through Seiren. Every wrinkle in her frown told her under no circumstances was this a good idea.

Too bad Seiren didn't need her approval.

"This is a suicide mission."

"If I came to ask you for advice, I would have said so," Seiren retorted. Madeleine shot her a warning look.

"I understand you didn't come for wisdom, although it sounds like you need probably a heavy dose of it. Kommora Haigh." Culpepper sighed, handing Seiren back the letter. "Well, she saved our asses twice now, so I'll have to put my trust in her. Although why she would put her trust in an eighteen-year-old beggars belief."

Seiren scowled. "I'm nineteen."

"I hope you're already adequately prepared. Leitholm is a day's walk away and there won't be civilians passing close enough to Acrise to give you any help if — Karma forbid — you break a leg or two. Are you stocked up on food, water, clothing, orienteering equipment—"

"We're well-prepared," quipped Seiren. Culpepper merely shook her head again and jerked her head. The twins followed her. Seiren's head swivelled, taking in the familiar and yet new sight of Acrise in the summer when the heavy snow no longer covered most of the courtyard. Intricate torch holders in the shape of spiralling lion-headed creatures clung onto walls, giving the fortress a more dated, palatial appearance. Elaborate etchings led the way forward, weaving beneath army boots and sprawling across spacious courtyards: some were runes; some were depictions of age-old events of people on carts, holding weapons, or shaking hands; and some showed creatures that were obviously demons, with swishing tails, wings spanning more than fifty men standing side-by-side, and huge, gaping mouths capable of swallowing cities. But the demons stood alongside the humans rather than devoured them. Beneath the midday sun, the deep etchings were bleached into shades of beige and umber; tiny particles of sand tumbled over the figures, almost mimicking the passing of time.

Culpepper led them down an endless flight of stairs to the bottom of the fortress towards the lower doors. They passed soldiers at intervals, none of whom gave the twins a second look. The air cooled, a welcome change to the humidity above. Madeleine flapped her tunic and fanned herself again. Seiren had forgotten her sister was probably still unused to extreme climates, having spent so long in a pendant. This would be her first summer — spent in the unforgiving lands of Hanna. Chilled sweat trickled past her temples and sat at her collarbones.

"This is as far as I'll take you," Culpepper said at last. They stood at one end of a long corridor, illuminated by weak yellow runes. At least eight reinforced steel gates stood between them and a blinding light at the end of the tunnel. A hollow draught swept through the path, eerie and mournful, apt for the grey, solemn atmosphere. "Change into your Hannan gear here. Once you cross that threshold, you are in Hannan territory. I hope the runes keep you safe."

"Well, I hope I won't have to resort to runes," Seiren muttered under her breath, dropping the rucksack and fishing out the long, flowing garments Kommora had given them. Culpepper left as Seiren struggled to fit her arms and legs into the holes that appeared and disappeared at will. The flimsy cotton threatened to tear when she just got an elbow through what she presumed was an armhole. Her muscles began to seize as she tugged and shoved at the unforgiving cotton until a pair of hands appeared, guiding her limbs through and sliding a belt around her waist. Seiren emerged, red-faced and furious, to Madeleine's amused expression. Madeleine had already managed the lemon-yellow robe, which had a silvery lining and a silky sheen that, beneath thin threads of light escaping through slits in the walls, shimmered like a scatter of stardust on a warm summer night. Seiren's was apple green with a gold lining, reminding her of long sunny afternoons beneath thick canopies in the forest, surrounded by butterflies and the pleasant scents of sweetpeas and honeysuckles. It fell to below her knees, and stuck to her armpits and back from her battle with the garment. Madeleine smoothed Seiren's hair and plopped a headdress on top, a heavy, clunky, silver thing that sat awkwardly above Seiren's unruly blonde hair, with a face cover that dangled beneath her chin. Madeleine wore a similar one of a shiny material the same shade as an electric rune, perched neatly atop her head.

With squeals and clanks of opening and closing gates accompanying them, they made their way through the corridor, their heavy boots echoing around. Each squeak and crash counted down the moments until they were ejected from their motherland. And, with the final bang, the gate slammed shut behind them, leaving the two of them alone in Hanna.

The sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, its scorching rays tearing through the long sleeves as if they were made of paper and raking its sizzling hot fingers over Seiren's flesh. Rocks of every shape, several storeys high, stretched as far as the eye could see, jutting out at irregular intervals, some resembling faces of statues like those in the Council of Mages, haughty and judgemental. Fragile, arid vegetation in clusters of ivory and tan keeled at various angles. It was incredible to imagine Hanna oscillated between such extremes, from a frosty land of snow and ice to a desiccated land of sand and rock, and yet people survived. In the south, where the twins grew up, they had all four seasons, lush grass, thick trees, and plants that flowered, bore fruit, and wilted before reviving anew in the spring. Sand drifted past, making Seiren's eyes water and nose wrinkle, and she pulled the face cover of her headdress up, finally realising its purpose. The inside of her nostrils and the back of her throat burnt as the atmosphere sucked out all moisture. Squinting, she tried to identify any semblance of a path. No luck.

Madeleine took out the compass Kommora provided them. It would have been easier if they could have used an orienteering rune if it didn't give their status away. Leitholm lay directly north of Acrise, a tiny thoroughfare town. There lay Kommora's contact and hopefully their ticket into the Daemonium.

Swallowing sandy saliva, Seiren squared her shoulders and stomped ahead, boots sinking with every step into the sandy ground.

The area wasn't completely devoid of life, although it certainly seemed to have no nearby populace. Squat trees with red and yellow leaves poking out of their spindly stems sat at irregular intervals in the sand, surrounded by spiky bursts of weed, happily soaking in the scorching sun. Birds flew overhead and four-legged creatures watched them from afar, suspicious of their intentions. The air became distorted from the heat radiating from the ground, giving all ground-level life forms beastly, sinister appearances.

They were sparing with their water, moistening their tongues when the dryness got too much to bear. They took their first break at a stay over hut Kommora mentioned. A one-storey wooden hut with plastered-over windows, it had the necessities — dry wood, used bedding, sparse cutlery and cups, and a well just outside.

Seiren pumped the water as Madeleine took their bags inside. The metal was cool against her sweaty palms. Water sloshed over, wetting the outside of her boots.

Tiny jolts of lightning fired across her hands, nearly making her drop her bucket. She gasped, pausing. The sensation remained, like flash magic itching to release. Laying the bucket down, she rubbed her fingers. A tiny trail of smoke unfurled from each fingertip. The tingle remained, tickling and straining to be free, yet invisible to the naked eye.

"You okay?" Madeleine's head popped out of the door. She'd taken her headdress off. Her cheeks were pink, her face shiny with sweat.

"Yeah." Shaking her head, Seiren grabbed the bucket and took it inside, sighing when the cool shades gave her some relief from the ruthless sun. The water was like a blessing to her parched throat. She splashed some onto her face, groaning aloud at the cool relief.

"We still have at least five hours ahead of us." Madeleine checked the sun and then the compass. "I'm feeling a new sense of respect for Hannans, to live in winters colder than Acrise and then summers like this... how do they not die?"

"We're not here to make friends, Maddy. We're here to catch a criminal," Seiren said, sour.

"In a foreign place as unforgiving as this, we're going to need all the friends we can get."

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