I didn’t see Principal Sun in her dream of paradise.

Instead, I saw a bronze-skinned man in fine purple robes and a golden crown standing upon the slope of a mountain, under the ancient branches of a massive olive tree. It was raining. The sun shone through the clouds, turning each raindrop into a glittering gem of light.

An unfamiliar woman stood before the man. The light behind her cast her in stark shadow, obscuring her features. In her hand was a bronze key, cold as a snake. She placed it into the man’s hands.

With a voice like the ocean waves, she spoke.

[From this moment forward, you must build your new world alone.]

The man smiled, a little sad.

“But you will still be watching over me, won’t you?”

The woman laughed.

[Yiannis, you are my friend. But you know what I am.]

She stepped back.

[On the day your answer can be proved, come find me.]

The scene shifted.

I saw a large city with mourners lining the streets. White flowers and their petals scattered like ghosts before the pale horses drawing a hearse. I saw a great statue of King Yiannis beneath an olive tree. Rain poured down. Lightning struck. Behind the curtain of stormy clouds, a massive serpentine shadow moved. A figure draped in sheets of rain placed a hand upon Yiannis’ statue. She emitted a sorrowful laugh.

[My friend, you never returned the key.]

I saw a throne in a marble hall. The sky outside flashed. Blue claw marks carved themselves deep into the seat, splitting it nearly in two. Dark liquid oozed to the ground like blood.

I saw a young Veric dressed in priestly garments, standing knee-deep in a pool within a temple. She said, “Have you been waiting for the answer, this whole time?” She said, “Then wait for me to fulfill the promise in his place.”

I saw a taller, more mature Veric donning the Saintess’ headdress. She was holding the key out. “Let me return this to its rightful owner.” I saw her dying alone in KP-04, her body arranged in a casket. The key was never found.

I heard the unknown woman’s voice laughing, perhaps in sorrow, perhaps in joy.

[Three hundred years late, my friend, but the answer has been reached.]

In a city overlooking the sea, under the moon, storm clouds gathered and the water churned. The ocean split open as a massive serpentine dragon surged into the air. The spines of its undulating, fin-like wings ran parallel to each other along each side, longest at the shoulder and tapering to near nothing where the tip of its long tail spread out into a webbed fan. At the end of each spine was a teardrop-like lure glowing in blue. The storm, like a long shadow, stretched over the land.

The dragon’s mouth split open, baring its teeth in a terrifying grin.

[Iyiria, the time has come to judge your fate!]

With that, the vision faded, and my dream self was left to stare into Principal Sun’s eyes. As her pupils elongated like a snake’s, she drew her lips back, revealing her lengthening fangs, and a forked tongue flickered out.

“Was that power granted by the Tripartite? Cute,” she said. “You have no idea what it really means to manipulate symbols.”

Her fingernail pierced my forehead. Blood didn’t spill. Rather, as she dragged her finger down, it felt like she was separating a natural seam in my body, from which now golden light spilled out.

With a lurch, the world transformed, suspending us in a chaotic space of light and color with no clear up or down. Objects, symbols, and scenes flashed by, momentary forming and dissolving like shapes in the sand.

Principal Sun pressed her hand further into my head.

“Now let us see what this attack means to you.”

The strange world around me erupted into motion. Threads of color wove together and dissolved, a veritable storm of transformation. A castle. A throne. A temple. Another throne. They flashed through my vision in an unsolvable web, colors and threads passing through the seam in my head almost faster than I could process them. I felt like I was burning up.

Then Principal Sun withdrew her hand, and we were back in the air above Veratrum Row.

“An imposter just fishing for trouble and stirring chaos, with no real concept or understanding of the forces he meddles with,” she said disdainfully. “A pawn like you wouldn’t know a thing about the mastermind. Worthless.”

Contemptuously, she clenched the hand around my throat. The snap of my neck reverberated through my skull. She tossed my body aside.

The last thing I saw in that dream was her receding figure disappearing in a flash of blue, leaving the flooded wreckage of Veratrum Row behind.

I snapped awake, heart pounding in my ears and utterly soaked in a cold sweat.

Fucking hell.

Was Crescent Sun the Dragon of Sorrow in disguise?

If everyone knew the Great Dragon was here in Nithemoore moonlighting as the principal, surely things would be different. Would Cyprian and Sashenka still have the guts to come up to her and argue about their charges’ prizes? Then again, maybe they wanted the principal’s favor precisely because they knew who she was?

I scrubbed my face and checked the time. It was one in the morning. Great.

Forcing my trembling fingers to steady, I retrieved Clover from the windowsill and shot off a text to Zaire.

Me: How much do you know about the principal of Nithemoore?

Then I laid back down and contemplated my next move.

What had I just learned?

Principal Sun had some promise or agreement with Yiannis, the first king of Iyiria, that kept her tied here even after his death. It seemed that if Veric fulfilled the promise, or if she died without doing so, the Great Dragon would consider that agreement finally fulfilled or broken, and therefore, freed of her bonds. 

So maybe her “paradise” was freedom from that state of suspense. 

The vision suggested that the Great Dragon was a much less benign protector than was popularly believed, but it also showed that Veric was important to her. It was a little scary thinking what might have happened if Veric died in KP-04. She wouldn’t have really torched the whole country, right…? 

But if she valued Veric that much, then…

Maybe it was still possible to work with this.

The events of [Bound Prophet]’s vision had taken place around noon today, so I wouldn’t be able to use the title again for another twelve hours or so. I’d have to test my next idea in a post-lunch nap. 

Having made that decision, I brewed some tea for myself to calm my nerves before going back to sleep. When I woke up again in the late morning, Zaire had sent me a reply.

Zaire: hmm

Zaire: guessing you dont mean the stuff in her bio on the college weavesite?

Zaire: r u digging into the mystery of the principals position?

Weavesite? No, wait, what was the “mystery”?

Me: So you do know something?

Zaire: not really just some reading i did the other day

Zaire: maybe itll be useful for u too?

Zaire: whoistheprincipal.wv

The text was highlighted in a different color, so I pressed it. Another “application” opened up on the screen with whoistheprincipal.wv at the top, so I guess it must have been a file name of some kind. The file itself was a colorful page with a huge header reading THE UNSOLVED MYSTERY OF NITHEMOORE ACADEMY’S PRINCIPAL. There was a menu under the title, and a longer body of text under that, like a quaint digital newspaper.

Since Nithemoore Academy’s inception, the principal has been shrouded in mystery. Little is known about the first principal, how she got the position, or why no one contested her place in the school. Even less is known about how the position was passed down.

So what do we know?

The identity of every past principal has been redacted from all records, with classic indications of a Secret-Keeper seal. Only the current principal’s name and appearance are ever known, though they, too, may be a fabrication. The current principal’s history and past are similarly sealed. No one knows where the current principal came from before she took the position.

Despite how much is unknown, there are a few things that have always been true of Nithemoore’s principals. 

The principal always has full control over Nithemoore’s defenses. No one knows the extent of those defenses, though many have tried to probe its depths.

The principal always displays at least Myth-level abilities, and therefore, is guaranteed a seat on the Council of Myths.

The principal has some relationship or agreement with the Great Dragon that ensures Nithemoore’s funding independent of aristocratic sentiment.

What does it all mean?

The prevailing theory is that the principal’s position has a corresponding title that requires inheritors to follow in the footsteps of their predecessors, including oaths of secrecy and identity erasure…

Huh.

Okay.

It seemed like I’d stumbled upon a huge secret this time. Best to keep my mouth shut. Given how decisively Principal Sun had acted in my dream, if I slipped up, who knew if I could keep my head intact…

How had she sensed something amiss, anyhow? Was it because of the change in weather? But I’d barely stirred up a bit of wind and water there.

I browsed the digital newspaper for a while more, figured out that it had interactable text to go to related sub-files, and browsed those as well. There was even a “forum” attached to it, where there were apparently a lot of people discussing Nithemoore news and their speculations on Principal Sun. Something like a public notice board where anyone could append their messages to the file, I guess? Some of the messages weren’t readable without first making my own account there.

I still didn’t have a seammail so I decided to close the application, but I couldn’t get the touch-based screen to close the file browser, so I gave up and restarted the seam.

The touch-based screen was cool interactively, but it felt clumsy and unintuitive compared to straightforward physical controls or flexible neural interfaces. I’d never gotten any body mods for interfacing with the real advanced stuff, but even so, once you got the hang of interfacing, it was simple to control a big mining rig like it was your own body.

The settlement soldiers also got these fancy suits and sensors where you could instantly transmit information to others connected to the network, or you could do direct neural contact if you were disconnected… Anyways, it was much more efficient than this flat touch-sensitive screen. The holographic controls that I’d seen around on computers or others’ seams didn’t seem much better. If any tech from my old world was going to show up in Kosmonymia, I’d want it to be something sensible like that.

I set Clover free to roam in my dorm again, then went to shower, clean my room, and cook something light and tasty. Something not to heavy for strenuous activity shortly afterward, and something to relax with, too. Had to keep myself in good state for the upcoming use of [Bound Prophet].

Of course, I also made sure to swing by the cafeteria and grab some less perishable foods, like fruit and bread, for my food stash. No sense in wasting what was available to me.

As the lunch period passed and [Bound Prophet] became available again, I lay down in the patch of sun coming in through the window on the couch and let myself drift off to sleep.

In this use of [Bound Prophet], I once again made up a reason to ask Veric to go to Veratrum Row, this time after school. My dream self went about preparations in much the same way, and once again, when he sensed Veric approaching, he launched his attack on Veratrum Row.

This time, because I was paying attention, before Principal Sun appeared, I noticed that the eyes of all the Great Dragon’s icons in the area — carvings, gargoyles, reliefs — briefly flashed blue. 

…She wasn’t using their eyes to watch the area, was she?

The sky split open once again. This time, when Principal Sun appeared in the air, my dream self was prepared.

He waved his hand in greeting. The wind screamed, drowning out his voice, but in a rough imitation of Mehran Sattari’s magic, one breeze carried his voice to her in the air.

“I have a message for the Great Dragon. Will you hear me out?”

---

According to the vision, my second plan worked.

In fact, the results were so good, it exceeded imagination. I needed to change my plans to take advantage of that fact.

Originally, I’d wanted to attack during the lunch period to avoid troublesome factors that I couldn’t control, like hidden guards or secret security that the noble scions might have. Now, though…

Now I just wanted to do it when there were as many good targets there as possible. But it had to be a reasonable time for me to ask Veric to go over, too. I went through the information Etienne had given me and concluded that the best time would be tomorrow in the late afternoon, when most of the noble scions would be home. The two exceptions were Cynara, who participated in an aristocratic young women’s club, and Xander, who for some reason did not live on the Row. 

I went out to the costume shop I’d seen in my dreams and assembled my disguise as a member of the Order, just as planned, and then I went back to KP-04 to stuff in last-minute practice with the sacrificial flow frame.

After dinner, though, I didn’t practice any more. For a big undertaking like this, I wanted to be in my best state, and that meant relaxing and resting well. That was what my brother had taught me about preparation.

Not that he would have expected me to prepare for something like this.

I disguised myself as Chen Xiarui again and wandered down the city streets, enjoying the wind, the bustle, the evening colors of the sky. Soon, I’d wandered down to the shops by the river. In an amphitheater overlooking the water, a theater troupe was performing.

I’d always liked theater in all its forms, so I found an open spot near the back and sat down to watch.

I was missing some context from the beginning of the show, but I picked up the story quickly enough.

According to the play, once upon a time, when the Dragon of Desire had not yet disappeared from the world, a mortal man fell madly in love with a woman whose heart could not be moved by anything. He begged before the gates of the Dragon of Desire’s temple for seven days and seven nights before the Dragon of Desire responded to his plea.

“You have proven the strength of your desires,” its actor said, speaking as a silhouette behind a large screen. “Tell me, what is your wish?” 

The man asked the Dragon of Desire to make the woman love him as he loved her.

The Dragon of Desire told him that on the winter solstice, when everyone gathered for the festivals to observe the rites, that he must attend. So he did, and he saw that the woman was there too. The Dragon of Desire flew over the village, and unseen by anyone, reached down to pluck the strings of connection between them. It opened the woman’s heart and attached a thread of desire to the image of the mortal man who had begged for its intercession.

As the Dragon’s actor exited the stage, he sang.

Love what you don’t understand,

An effigy, a house of sand.

Tell me, lover, tell me where

exists that which you love so dear?

When the woman beheld the man again, she was consumed by desire, and she pursued him. At first, the man was pleased, but the woman’s desire was uncontrollable. She wanted every part of his time, his attention, his body. She wanted his whole life. He was overwhelmed and could not give it to her, and finally, tried to end their relationship. She was not convinced. “The man I love would not have broken my heart so. You must not be him; he exists somewhere else.”

If he was not the man she loved, she reasoned, he must be an imposter. If she killed him, then her true love would be freed, and would finally return to her side.

She pursued the man with a weapon in hand, through the fallow fields and the jagged black mountains painted with snow. As they acted out the pursuit, the Dragon of Desire’s silhouette was projected onto the hanging cloth screen behind them, playing with the actors’ shadows as they ran.

Finally, the man fled to the doorsteps of the temple where the story had began. He knelt down and prayed to the Dragon. Please, he begged. Free me of desire. I have seen past my wretched passions and witnessed the truth; may you grant her the same blessing.

The theater troupe’s accompanying music swelled. The Dragon’s silhouette was projected once again. There might have been a voice laughing in the song. But the Dragon didn’t answer the man’s call. From that day, the storyteller on stage said, the Dragon of Desire never once again appeared in history.

The man could only beg in utter futility until the woman caught up with him. He didn’t have the courage to turn and face her, so up until the very last moment, he could only look ahead at the shadow she cast before her, swallowing up the light before him. 

And that was where the story ended.

How very fascinatingly grim. 

I stood up with the audience and clapped loudly, joining in the raucous applause, because even though the story had inspired some complicated emotions in me, it had still been a good story. 

As I got ready to leave, a familiar figure appeared out of the throng and waved me over. I paused, then headed his way.

“Hey, Etienne. Fancy seeing you here.”

“If it ain’t my favorite customer. Didn’t take ya for a patron of the arts.”

“You callin’ me uncultured?”

“No more cultured ‘n the rest of us, yeah? Don’t see ya bustin’ out the Scriven Word.”

It was sad how two months wasn’t enough to familiarize myself with the culture and history of a world. “You sayin’ we’re crayfish and crabs over here? What reason have you got for watching, then?”

Etienne raised his eyebrows. “Crayfish ‘n’ crabs?”

“Like, you an’ me are the same kinda people,” I clarified. 

“Oh, you mean the cooking pot rollin’ down and findin’ the lid. Haven’t heard your idiom before. What’s it from? The Seungjo Republic?”

An abruptly Korean name. “Something like that.”

“Heh, nice. Me, I got blood from Great Zhou myself. Not that I remember much. Parents kicked it in the Rainy War. Pretty classic story.” He grinned at me, leaving just enough of a pause for me to commiserate and share my own experiences if I wanted to, which I didn’t. “Anyways, these kinds o’ literary plays ain’t really my style. But you know whose it is?”

“Who?”

He lowered his voice as he leaned in. “Roxana. Saintess candidate extraordinaire.”

I followed his gaze to the front rows of the amphitheater. The crowd was clearing up now that the troupe was taking down their props from the stage, but under the riverside lanterns’ golden lights, I spotted her sitting on the benches, unmoving, as if in a daze.

“You spying on her?”

“For figures of sufficient renown, it’s just sensible information gatherin’, my friend.”

I knew intellectually that the Saintess was a big deal, but it was hard for me to connect a greater sense of respect to it than, say, to a prominent community figure. For me, even encountering Veric and Roxana’s political troubles didn’t inspire much more feeling about their status than, Wow, it’s crazy people think of them like that.

“If she’s got people watching her all the time, you think she’d have guards?” I asked.

“Nah. The Dragon Shrine’s all about accessibility, y’know? Least, under the current Saintess. Can’t do that if they got guards keepin’ anyone from comin’ near. ‘Sides, under the Great Dragon’s skies, the Dragon Priests all got ways to protect themselves.”

“Huh.”

“So, that’s to say…” Etienne rubbed his fingers together meaningfully. “If ya got any good info on her, how about we make another deal?”

Well… They could probably get at her by threatening Veric in some way. But I wanted to help Veric, so I had no plans to tell him that. No telling if I agreed with his goals, after all.

“This related to the thing Thais asked the other day? ‘Bout the” — what was the name again? — “Anthemoessians.”

“You could say that. She’s gonna be participating in the work-study program, after all.”

“What do you wanna find out? I’ll see what I can do.”

Etienne raised his eyebrows. “Her attitudes towards ‘em and their history with Iyiria? Feelings ‘bout their traditions and its conflicts with the state?”

“‘Kay. Wait here and don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“Wait, what’re you plannin’?”

I got up and walked down the rows of the ampitheatre and sat down next to Roxana, distant enough to respect personal space but close enough to show my intent to talk.

“Hey. You’re Roxana from the Dragon Shrine, right?”

Placing my elbows on my knees, I clasped my hands and leaned forward, turning my head to look at her, and I was taken aback by the expression I saw there.

It was cold, detached. But there was a burning emotion in her shadowed eyes that struck a familiar chord.

A sort of longing, a wretchedness of the self, enough to drive you crazy— 

That emotion was gone in the blink of an eye. Like magic, Roxana came to life, emitting such a gentle and inviting smile that the memory of the preceding moment felt like an illusion.

“Hello. That’s me,” she said warmly. “Have we met before?”

No time to ponder. 

“I’ve been to the Dragon Shrine once or twice. A Dragon Priestess should be pretty familiar with the dragons, right? So I was wondering if you knew much about the Dragon of Desire, too.”

Roxana gave a tinkling laugh. “The Dragon of Desire disappeared hundreds of years ago. I don’t know much, I’m afraid — at least, no more than the average person.”

“I don’t really know anything except what happened in the play,” I said. “Was the Dragon of Desire popular in Iyiria?”

“It was the most prominent Hierarch in the region until it disappeared. People would pray to it for blessings in love and ambition. Some historical temples still revere it as part of ongoing efforts to preserve old cultures and traditions in Iyiria.”

“Huh. You think it’ll ever come back?”

She gave a half-smile. “There are seven dragons in the world now, aren’t there? If it returns, surely it will be as a chimera.”

“A chimera, huh…”

Were there never more than seven dragons in the world? Was she saying that the Scribe’s chimeras were made out of dragons? Or, if they exhibited both phoenix and dragon traits, maybe they were made out of dead Hierarchs in general. That hadn’t been in the book I read.

Roxana covered her mouth with one hand as she giggled. “So unfamiliar with the Hierarchs? You truly must be a visitor from afar.”

I smiled. “Yeah, practically a whole different world. Iyiria’s got so much that’s new. The food’s more flavorful and sour… You’ve got a dragon ruling you… And something about the Anthemoessians? But I don’t know much about them.”

“The Anthemoessians? Who told you about that?” Roxana’s eyes crinkled in humor. “What a strange choice to represent Iyiria.”

“Really? Why?”

“Well… It’s true that they live here. But they aren’t exactly Iyirians, after all.”

I tilted my head and blinked uncomprehendingly.

“The Anthemoessians are a nomadic water-dwelling people,” she explained. “They’re known for their boating skills and their oceanic shapeshifting. Traditionally, they follow the whales to the northern seas in the summer, then come down to the warmer waters of Iyiria’s southern coastline for the winter.”

“Oh, so they reside in more than one country?”

“Depending on where you believe every nations’ ocean borders are, you could say that. You could also say that, since the Anthemoessians reside in more than one place, they don’t belong to any of them. The Anthemoessians have their own form of governance and way of life, and they don’t consider themselves Iyirian subjects. It’s natural that friction has arisen between our country and them.”

“Huh. I had no idea it was like that. But if they’re out in the ocean most of the time, what’s there to argue about?”

“Fishing.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Iyiria’s fishermen want to make a consistent living, and the Anthemoessians want to keep the ocean ecosystems they depend on healthy and sustainable. To the fishermen, the Anthemoessians are seasonal thugs who disrupt their business, and to the Anthemoessians, we are thieves that raid the house while the owner is away. Not to mention the weather disputes arising from the Anthemoessians’ traditional practices. It is a rather complicated situation.”

“Wow… I didn’t know that. Does the Dragon Shrine ever help out? Like by mediating or anything?”

“It isn’t in our jurisdiction, though the Anthemoessians are welcome to make use of our healing services, just as any other visitor.”

“What about the Great Dragon’s protection? Does it extend to the Anthemoessians?”

“Of course. It extends to anyone within the Great Dragon’s barrier, just as it will protect travelers like you.” Her cheek dimpled as she smiled. “For someone so unfamiliar with our country, your Iyirian is quite flawless. Nary an accent at all!”

“I can’t take the credit — it’s all thanks to the guy who brought me to this place.”

“He must have been a good teacher.”

Haha.

Roxana crossed one leg over the other, clasping her hands over the knee. She cast her gaze back out at the now-empty amphitheater stage and the river beyond it reflecting the evening light.

“Having indulged your curiosity, it’s your turn to indulge mine,” she said. “As an outsider, what is the Dragon of Sorrow like, in your eyes?”

I blinked slowly. What an unusual question. What was really on her mind? 

“If I go by the popular understanding, the Dragon of Sorrow is truly a benevolent figure. That kind of altruism strikes me as foolish and absurd… but it’s really admirable.”

I thought she would question my comment on foolishness, but what she actually asked was, “By popular understanding? Then how else would you understand it?”

“You’re thinking of it wrong,” I said. “How would I understand it from what other people say? Don’t you think the Dragon of Sorrow is kind of like the man from the play? A person who has been hidden by their own image. I wonder how much the people of Iyiria really understand the Hierarch that rules them.”

Roxana’s eyes flickered. “Then wouldn’t that make us Iyirians equivalent to the woman, who tormented the man with the gap between himself and his image?”

“Sure,” I said with a laugh. “But it’s only a torment if you want the other person to know the real you.”

Roxana tapped her chin thoughtfully before shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s true. You can’t be freed from others’ perceptions just because you don’t care to form a relationship with them. After all, even if the man cut all his own attachments and left, because of her image of him, the woman would have pursued him anyways. When your life is shaped by how others see you, what can you do then?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What else? Play the mask you wear, or break it.”

And whatever choice you made, you had to accept the consequences it brought onto you.

Roxana looked at me with round eyes, which drew another laugh from me.

“What’s with the look? You’ve never acted in accordance with social expectations? Or you’ve never dared to break them?” 

“Is there anyone in life who has never dared?” she said after a moment. “But as long as you live alongside others, you can’t avoid acting in accordance with others’ desires.” 

For Roxana, who wanted to be the Saintess, perhaps she had to act in accordance with others precisely because of what she desired. 

What an unenviable way to live. 

With one last smile, I said, “Thanks for the informative talk, miss Dragon Priestess. See you around.”

As I departed, I glanced over at Etienne, who’d moved closer to eavesdrop while we talked. He was pretending to be watching the boats on the river. I gave him a subtle nod as I passed him by and went on my way.

That had been an interesting encounter. Was Etienne gathering information for another client? Had Roxana’s seemingly neutral explanation actually been biased one way or the other? It was hard to say. I had to admit, I was curious what was going on in Roxana’s mind, too. What was the cause behind that fleeting expression I’d seen?

I kind of wanted to know the two of them better. Which felt precarious, since both Acacius and Chen Xiarui were fake identities I was prepared to throw away when the moment came.

At the very least, “Acacius” already had a role that was troublesome to act beyond, and I definitely didn’t plan to meet Roxana as “Chen Xiarui” again.

So I guess if I wanted to understand her better…

I’d have to meet her under a different face.

Maybe after tomorrow’s events, I’d see a different side of her.

With that thought, I went about the rest of my night and used [Bound Prophet] one last time before I slept. 

The previous two uses of this ability had been checking whether I could successfully pull off my fake attack. This time, I wanted to check the consequences in the longer term. If I followed my plans tomorrow afternoon, could I escape the scene cleanly — and more importantly — evade capture afterwards?

In my dream, I saw myself two days later, on a Friday afternoon, enjoying a cup of tea by the kitchen window. [Deceiver] was sitting next to me, peering at the newspaper spread out on the table. 

PERPETRATOR OF VERATRUM ROW ATTACK STILL AT LARGE

The Atmospheric Chancery has brought the full force of its investigation down upon the once peaceful and orderly neighborhood of Veratrum Row. Yet despite many witness testimonies and the Chancery’s full attention, the trail of the perpetrator has gone completely cold. 

Even the specialized trackers from the Ministry of Security and Investigation, specially dispatched to aid the Chancery, have been baffled by the utter lack of leads. 

“No matter what frame we use to search — for elemental traces, psychic disturbances, or trails in the ether — at some point, all hints of the perpetrator just disappear,” said one source. “We invited priests from the Scribe and Secret-Keeper’s temples to perform some rites on the area where the trail went cold, but it’s as if the perpetrator’s ‘records’ simply ceased to exist. Whoever this individual is, they must not be underestimated.” 

Records of the Scribe are rarely straightforward to interpret, and the Secret-Keeper does not easily dispatch answers, either. However, to receive no information from their rites at all is deeply unusual. It is so alarming, in fact, that Lady Xiomar Humayun, Head of the Atmospheric Chancery, is considering invoking an emergency meeting of the Council of Myths. 

“Were it a simple disappearance of one’s records, I would not be so hasty to act,” she explained. “However, with a hostile Myth-level power involved in this situation, we cannot afford to be careless.” 

Lady Xiomar did not explicitly name what power that might be, but considering the visuals of the attack, speculations abound — most of them pointing straight at the Lemirian Empire and its secretive order, the Knights of the Temple of the Sun… 

[Congratulations,] said [Deceiver]. Its glowing white eyes curled into half crescents as it smiled. [It is. As if. You are free.] 

My dream scoffed and pushed the newspaper away. 

“Yeah, yeah, you and your jokes… Let’s just keep an eye out. The last thing left to do is confirm how Veric’s situation develops from here.” 

The dream came to an end there, and I woke up. 

It seemed Principal Sun’s cleanup was quite thorough. I had no idea a Hierarch was capable of such things. 

More importantly, the most critical information had been confirmed

If I followed my plan today, I would get away with it cleanly.

All that remained now was to see it through.

Chapter 60 Back to Index