Now, Benover, Karma.

Sweat trickling down the side of her face and a distant headache thudding against the back of her skull, Kommora sat back, frowning. This was the only relevant record in the entire library describing Sallows's journey at that point in time and she recognised it as the same leather-bound book he'd brought back from Teirrin seventeen years ago.

The hours blurred into each other. Liore stuck her head in every now and then, but always withdrew after seeing Kommora still at work; she knew better than to interrupt her, no matter the hour. Kommora traced her hands over Sallows's neat ink scratchings on the yellowed sheets. Mundane. They were all mundane. She was missing something. There was no way, after exhausting all the varieties of scanning runes, she would be unable to even find a hint of the magical encryption preventing her from seeing Sallows's true words.

You'll have to prove your worth as my successor if you want to take my place.

Sallows knew this day would come.

Kommora straightened up and groaned as her back clicked and neck ached. Her entire body complained, but she brushed the whining aside. Running a hand through her hair and then slicking the loose strands back into her plait, she clasped her hands behind her back and strolled around the library. Night had fallen some time ago. Yellow runes bathed the chamber in warm light. Stars glittered far on the other side of the domed glass above her. Her boots grazed the plush carpet, her knee-length tunic whispering with her every step.

As she sat on the toilet, relieving herself, she mulled over what Harred would have done already. In terms of magical prowess, Harred trumped both Sallows and Kommora, but Harred relied heavily on magic, despite her brilliance. If anything could be done with magic, whether it be travel, building, or cooking, she would always use magic. There was always an air of disdain whenever there was a mention of non-magical methods. Sallows knew that and would have deliberately encrypted his work to Harred's disadvantage. If Sallows had used magic, Kristen Harred would have been the first to find the information instead of spending the past few years failing, and ultimately using organic magic as a means of recreating celestial magic. No, Kommora would have to go about this a different route.

Returning to the library, she scrutinised the words with a new eye. Sallows loved his word puzzles, feeling they were a means of keeping the brain active, flexible, and not always dwelling on magic. Perhaps there was a key in these introductory paragraphs.

Several more hours passed, but Kommora barely felt them. She flew over the lines, each letter revealing themselves before her very eyes. Sallows was a genius. Harred never had time for puzzles or riddles — hiding each letter within apparently irrelevant musings of Teirrin cuisine and culture was the perfect way of ensuring she would dismiss it as nonsense and tricking her pride into not allowing others to prove her wrong. Celestial magic: the origin of magic, able to manipulate the magical core in every human being, but particularly those of mages, who were able to harness the energy. Sallows had kept an eye on Harred, a rising mage with unlimited potential and a sinister inconsequential air, as a possible threat to the future of Karma.

Twin souls. That was a recurring theme in Sallows's documentation. There were a few words missing, another key Kommora needed to find, but Sallows was preoccupied with a pair of souls who were discovered by the Teirrin royal family. He could be referring to the discovery of the burial sites of the original twins, Karma and Hanna, in Teirrin. Sallows volunteered to oversee the excavation, in case there were magical barriers posing a danger to the team there. Pausing, Kommora squinted at the far bookcases of records from twenty years back. Her vision was fuzzy at that distance after spending the whole night working and the sunlight coming down from above only made the sight all the more offensive. She moved closer and thumbed the spines. Was it 996 or 997? She'd have to flick through them.

"Mage Haigh." Liore's tentative voice floated over.

"Don't disturb me. You should know better—"

"I'm sorry, Mage Haigh, but there's...a protest outside."

"That's nothing to do with me. The public-speaking shit is Dankworth's territory. Go find him."

"He's out there already, but Mage Ashworth is here and... she wants an audience. With you."

Halen Ashworth? Kommora turned around, eyebrows raised. Since Ashworth's resignation, Kommora hadn't seen hide nor hair of the woman.

"Should I allow her in? This is a classified area, after all..."

"That's fine. Let her in."

Liore stepped back. Ashworth came in, wearing a plain black cloak and a long dress that fell down to her ankles, same as the typical city folk. Loose strands of dark blonde hair came out of her ponytail.

"Long time no see, Ashworth."

Ashworth waited until Liore had shut the door before striding towards Kommora, fire blazing in her blue eyes.

"Enough with the pleasantries. What the hell are you king's mages doing?"

"All that we can." Irritation coloured Kommora's voice, the exhaustion eating away at her patience. "We didn't anticipate external forces blasting the execution chamber with advanced red runes."

"She's escaped," Ashworth hissed.

"Really? I would never have guessed."

"I'm not coming just for myself. I hear things, now that I'm not a mage any more. I'm not the only one angry about this." Ashworth gritted her teeth. "She was nullified. She was meant to be executed — by your hands. The fact she got away shows everyone the king's mages' inadequacy. How can a magic-less person escape like that?"

"I was trying to find out until you stormed in," Kommora said coolly. A flush crept up Ashworth's face.

"We need an eye for an eye." Ashworth lifted a fist. "Jarsdel can take her place."

"We're not Hannan brutes. Killing him won't change the fact that Harred is still at large. And the council will not change a verdict just for the demands of the people, not when a trial has already occurred. We have our council for magical trials. The people have theirs for civilian ones. They had every chance to object to his lifelong sentence. They opted not to."

"No, but—" Ashworth paused, her eyes shut and lowering her trembling fist. "Tesla didn't die so you can cower in the council. People are getting uneasy. I'm not just speaking for me, but I'm very aware of how everyone is feeling. Mages are meant to protect people. Mages look up to and are guided by the council. Don't forget there are many who have lost loved ones, magical and otherwise, and a lot of very old and very rich families are angry. I'm telling you this early now before it all blows up."

"If we invade Hanna seeking Harred, we are declaring war. Karma cannot afford a war right now."

Ashworth shook her head. "You don't need to convince me, Kommora, but there are those who are less understanding of your predicament and more powerful, more furious. If you disregard their feelings now, you'll end up just like Butterworth and his cronies. The country is unstable as it is. People are scared. It's dangerous to ignore these things."

Kommora took in a heaving breath and sighed, a headache pounding at the back of her skull. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"I'll discuss it with the other king's mages and the council at our next meeting. I can't promise anything, Ashworth. Our last meeting decided we would not tread into Hanna — the Daemonium have been very clear about the implications of such action."

"Just treat this tip-off as... repayment for helping Tesla and me with Butterworth," said Ashworth in a stony voice. "I vowed never to practise as a mage again, but I do still have friends and family who are. I don't want a repeat of Benover."

Without another word, she spun around and stalked out, leaving Kommora alone in the library again. Liore peeped in, just to ensure she was well, before withdrawing and shutting the heavy oak door again.

Ashworth wasn't wrong. Kommora would love nothing more than to get Harred back and eradicate her ass from the face of the earth, but if the Daemonium truly has her, soon they would come to the realisation she no longer could manipulate celestial energy and Harred's death was merely an inevitability. But Kommora knew better than to assume that, considering Harred had a remarkable way of worming herself out of apparently fatal predicaments.

She immersed herself back in Sallows's work again. She could do little without the approval of the other king's mages, so meanwhile, she would focus on something she could control. Excavation. Sallows's notes from 1001 mentioned burial sites and excavations in Teirrin in 997. Kommora moved over to the relevant era on the shelves and pulled out several books. All encrypted, of course.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion, but Kommora felt as though she rammed repeatedly into a brick wall. No progress. The encryption key no longer yielded anything of value. The words made no sense, and she found herself gazing into space more and more frequently. With a sigh, she left the books on the table and stretched, staring out of the window. It was almost midday. Her stomach burnt with stomach acid and her mouth was drier than parchment.

Another knock at the door. This time, Ash stuck his head in; he must have relieved Liore's shift.

"Apologies for the interruption, Mage." His voice reverberated. Kommora blinked slowly. His words took some time to dissolve into her head. "But Mage Nithercott and her sister are here to see you."

"What?" Kommora was sure she'd misheard. She was certain the last time she saw the Nithercott girl she'd emphasised not showing up at her office again unless invited. "I told her—"

"She's aware. She's camping outside your office, Mage, and, um, said she refuses to leave until you see her."

"What is with people lately?" Kommora groaned. The dull headache from her conversation with Ashworth still throbbed, reminding her of the jobs she had to look forward to. "Fine. I'll see her. Get me some water."

"Shall I give you a hand, Mage? You've not fully recovered yet..."

She shot him a withering glare. Ash immediately dropped his hands and nodded, slipping out. Kommora shook her head. The surprises never end.

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