Chapter Text
Why do weathered warriors wander their way whither wanting wonders wait
Hark the heralds, anchors aweigh! Hither happens mine escape
Freedom forgone, sinking apace. Comets crumble, Phoebus fades
Under cosmic clamor decayed, hides a path untaken
—"eScape"
“It’s Wild’s!”
Seven swordsmen, in varying states of disarray—some clutching their heads, some sprawled on the grass, but all holding their swords as if prepared for a battle—groaned loudly. The eighth, nicknamed Wind, scrambled down from the tree he had climbed to survey the land.
“Oh, come on.” The ninth swordsman, the Hero of the Wild, stood on the crest of the hill below the tree, tapping the screen of his Sheikah Slate as the device alternated between chaotic beeping and emitting a staticky hiss. “It’s not that bad.”
Legend, who was lying spread-eagle on the ground with his blue cap covering his face, raised a hand with his index finger pointing skyward. “It storms in your era seven days out of ten.”
Wild screwed up his face. “That’s only in Faron...and the Ridge. And...well—”
“What weather can we expect here, Champ?” the Hero of Warriors cut in. He stood near Wild, a hand on his hip as he examined the cloudy sky. His blue scarf fluttered lightly in the breeze coming off the plains below.
The Champion glanced up from his slate and looked around. The portal—the latest in a string of portals sending nine of Hyrule’s Heroes of Courage across time and space—had deposited them on a grassy hill in Wild’s era and homeland. Sparse groves of pine trees dotted the plains and Hyrule Castle stood prominently in the distance, raised high on a mountainous column of stone.
“Irch Plain? Uh...” Wild’s face fell and his eyes went back to the device in his hands. “Okay, the weather isn’t the best here, but—why isn’t this...?” He struck the device a few times with the heel of his palm. It continued to beep.
A deep sigh came from Time, the eldest Hero, who was sitting with his head in his gauntleted hands. He looked up, winced at the daylight, and started peeling off his plate armor. “Metal off, everyone. No one is getting hit by lightning today. Wild, where’s the nearest stable?”
“Should be, uh, north—shit, no, they moved. This looks like Salari Hill, so south?”
“Why is it beeping?” the Hero of Hyrule groaned, both palms pressed against his eyes as he laid on the ground next to Legend. The Heroes with access to innate magic—particularly Hyrule and Four—fared the worst from their travels across time. Something about the portals tugged violently at their magic, leaving them with headaches and migraines—if it didn’t knock them out entirely.
“I don’t know, there’s some sort of interference....” Wild gave the slate one last firm tap. “Ugh. At least we’re in my era. If we head towards Lookout Landing, Purah can take a look at it.”
“Then let’s get on,” Twilight said, scooping the groaning Hero of the Four Sword into his arms. Four immediately buried his face in Twilight’s fur hood, muttering curses at the sun and portals and life in general.
Sky knelt next to Hyrule, the hem of his white cape just grazing the grass. “Do you need someone to carry you? If you transform, I can—”
“No, lemme just...” Hyrule muttered. Sitting up, he squeezed his eyes shut, nausea writ across his face, and dug through his packs for a green potion to soothe his roiling magic. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and took a swig before returning the remaining half to his bag. “Ugh...I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
With the customary kvetching that came after a portal, the swordsmen tucked their metal items into their bags—an entire ordeal for the heavily armored Hero of Time—while Wild continued to prod at his malfunctioning device. It beeped irregularly, clearly picking up some transmission but dropping the signal at random. He held it up to the sky, upside down, turned it off and on again, but nothing seemed to stop it.
“Tch, come on...” Wild muttered with a scowl. He glared at the device in his hands, working his jaw, and finally said, “hey, Wind, are you picking anything up with your rock?”
Wind perked up from where he was helping Time out of his armor. “Oh, lemme see—” The teenager shoved an arm in his bags and pulled out a stone which pulsed rhythmically with a bright blue light. They had discovered early in their adventure that Wind’s “rock”—a pirate charm—was an early form of Wild’s slate. “Uh...I think so?”
Warriors squinted at the rock from his place opposite Wind. “Wait, that’s....”
“A message!” Wild gasped. “It must be from Zelda! Hold on, O-S-D—”
“It’s a distress signal,” Warriors said, his face going pale. “S-O-S alternating with another message.... D-N-R-L?”
“D-N-R-L.... Dinraal.” Wild’s gaze snapped to the north, eyes wide, his pointed ears pinned against his head.
“What’s a Dinraal?” Wind asked, looking between Warriors and Wild with brows furrowed.
An ear-shattering roar answered the young Hero.
From the canyon miles to the north, visible in the distance for its sheer size, a white and red dragon tore into the sky. It rose higher and higher, fire wreathing its serpentine, writhing form as if caught in a whirlwind of flames.
“Oh, shit.” Wild ran towards the dragon, skidded to a stop, and jumped in place anxiously. He went back to tapping at his slate’s screen, materializing a pile of ancient Zonai devices from his inventory. “That’s Dinraal! Sacred dragon, very good!”
“Wind, get a visual!” Warriors commanded.
Wind already had his spyglass out and was tracking the dragon. “Aye, aye! It’s—Din’s tits, it’s fast—I think something’s attacking it? It looks like...uh...a bug? A beetle?”
With a flash of Zonai magic, Wild rearranged the clutter he had summoned into a vehicle of some sort—two downward-facing fans with a steering stick between. He jumped onto the vehicle and revved the fan engines. “I’m gonna get close. The stable’s not far. Twi, they know you—they’ll let you take my horses out—”
“Wild.” Time’s voice cut through his panic like steel. “You’re not going alone.”
“There’s no time! She’s hurt!” Wild yelled.
Dinraal roared in pain. From the distance, the Heroes could only make out a small black speck buzzing around the dragon, but they could more easily see the fired beams of light and the explosions against Dinraal’s body. It was uncomfortably similar to the Guardians that once terrorized Wild’s Hyrule, but with far better maneuverability in the air.
Grimacing, Time hissed a curse under his breath. “Buy us time. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Wait, I’ve got this,” Hyrule said.
He pushed past the taller man, hazel eyes glaring intensely towards the battle in the distant skies. Magic buzzed around him like a cushion of static electricity.
“Oh, hells,” Legend muttered under his breath, covered both ears and squeezed his eyes shut.
The others backed away as Hyrule lifted an arm towards the dragon and her aggressor, the tip of his middle finger pressed against the pad of his thumb. He took a deep breath. The cloudy skies above went dark. The air crackled.
Hyrule snapped his fingers.
Lightning tore the air apart above the dragon in a blinding flash. Seconds later, a deafening rumble rolled over the swordsmen, the air thick with ozone. With a barely heard whimper, Legend buried his face into Sky’s shoulder.
Miles away, the black speck assaulting the dragon plummeted into the canyon, impacting with an explosion and a billowing cloud of dust. Dinraal coiled in the air, no longer under attack, and roared at the crater before disappearing beyond the mountains to the east.
“Hell yeah!” Wind yelled, jumping and punching the air. “Nice shot, Rulie!”
Hyrule was bent double, his hands on his knees. He turned to Wind and gave a weak thumbs up before clapping that hand back over his mouth. “Ugh. That was a lot of magic right after a portal.” He groaned as Warriors patted him on the back.
“Time?” Wild asked, hands still on his vehicle’s handlebars.
Time squinted in the direction of the crash site and gave a low grunt. “Not alone, Champion. We’ll get horses and check it out together.”
Wild frowned at the dissipating cloud of dust to the north. “Alright,” he said, loosening his grip on the handlebars. With a gesture, his contraption fell apart and he returned the components to his slate. As he was about to put the slate away, an icon on its screen caught his eye.
[New Message]
“What’s...?” Tilting his head in bemusement, Wild tapped the icon. It brought up a list of alerts—the SOS—and one message with a bright border, written in Ancient Sheikah text.
[You have been identified as an entity of sufficient strength. Your abilities will be further evaluated. Please enter the rift before sundown. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination.]
“Wild?” came Twilight’s voice. “Somethin’ wrong?”
Wild looked up from the slate, startled. “Uh, guys?” He turned the screen to face the others. Those who weren’t being carried or recovering from portal sickness crowded around to look, their expressions shifting to confusion.
Time leaned down to eye the screen. “I’m afraid we can’t read that. Can you translate for us?”
“I think we’re being threatened?” Wild said, grimacing, and relayed the full message to the group, his voice lilting upwards in consternation.
Legend folded his arms with a scowl. “So whatever Rulie shot down isn’t dead.” Behind him, Hyrule muttered a disappointed curse.
Warriors was once again watching the sky as the storm Hyrule summoned broke apart into softer clouds. “Whatever it is, it’s given us plenty of time. We should take the opportunity to scope out the area. It may be a trap.”
“May be,” Legend scoffed under his breath.
Ignoring him, Warriors put a hand on Wild’s shoulder. “Are you able to alert the Princess? She should know about this.”
Wild hummed an affirmative as he typed a message on the screen. This remote messaging app was new to him, but apparently not to Zelda—now that he had found the SOS message in the system, he could see she had sent the message from her own slate. Dinraal is safe, he typed in reply. Weird thing fell in canyon. Checking out now. Will visit soon! Thank you!
With the message sent, Wild returned to his inventory and to the page containing his Zonai devices. “Zelda’s aware. We’ve got...maybe six hours until sunset? We’ll need to get down the canyon, too....” As he spoke, the anxiety on his face faded into the cold resolve—and expression he had seen all the other Heroes wear at times, when their own eras were in danger. Whatever this thing was, Wild wasn’t going to let it get away with its threat. “We’re skipping the stable. Give me five minutes.”
Five minutes later, the group had piled onto a new contraption—a raised platform with six wheels and a terrifying lack of places to hold on to. Eight Heroes clutched the sides of the platform with white-knuckled grips while Wild stood at the control stick, acceleration lever pulled all the way in, completely unperturbed by the machine catching air on every hill they crossed. Legend cursed loudly, gripping his hat as they went over a particularly large bump.
The canyon, initially a faint line in the distance under the Tabanthan cliffs, opened into a wide chasm as they approached. Wild lifted off the acceleration, letting the machine coast to a stop a stone’s throw from the edge. With a collective groan of relief, the swordsmen disembarked, shaking the tension from their hands and rubbing their palms.
Wind, fastest to recover, ran to the canyon edge and peered over. “Whoa.... You guys gotta see this!”
“Careful around the edge!” Time yelled, more out of habit than was necessary, as Wind was already pulling his Deku Leaf from his bag in anticipation of the descent.
Wild disassembled his latest machine and joined Wind on the ledge. At the bottom of the canyon was a new crater, with a glowing violet orb in the center—much like the portal they had recently traveled through in ominous presence, if not in shape. The rift, presumably.
Warriors came to stand over the two at the ledge, a large top-shaped device tucked between his arm and hip. “Do you see anything else off about this, Wild? Anything that might be lying in wait?”
“Other than the weird orb?” Wild shrugged. “No. If there was anything else in the canyon, it’s far enough away we would see it coming.”
“Just whatever is in that then.” Warriors tilted his chin at the orb, narrowing his eyes critically. After a moment, he turned back to the rest of the group. “Once we get down there, we should treat this ‘rift’ like any other portal. Assume there’s a fight on the other side. Groups of three, swords out.”
The others chimed their acknowledgements as they equipped their items for the descent. Wild handed his paraglider to Time and pulled a winged bodysuit from his slate. The others adjusted capes and spinners and gliders. Hyrule transformed into a fairy and flittered between the others impatiently while they finished their preparations and joined Wind at the edge.
With varying levels of grace, they leaped off the edge and plummeted, Twilight and Warriors falling the fastest, with only their spinners between them and the ground below. They both landed in a plume of dust, their spinners cushioning their fall, and waited until all the others landed in a ring around them.
The swordsmen glanced uneasily at the nearby orb towering over them as they returned their items to their bags. Wild felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, the air full of something like electricity.
“Two portals back-to-back,” Four groaned, drawing his sword. Hyrule, transforming back to his Hylian form, hummed in commiseration.
Swords drawn and grouped in threes, the Chain faced down the orb. With a deep breath, Wild adjusted his grip on his broadsword, Sky and Warriors at his side. Catching their eyes, Warriors nodded and they approached the rift, the sound of sizzling air growing louder with each step. When they were in arm’s reach, Warriors brushed the tip of his sword against the smooth surface. Like with the portals, it emerged unscathed.
“Let’s go,” Warriors said, and they went.
Walking into a portal was like walking into a wall of ice-cold water—it would set all of a person’s nerves screaming in response just before their stomachs flipped from the loss of gravity and the squeezing and pulling of the vacuous space between eras.
This was very different.
Wild braced for the usual sensations, but walking into the orb was like walking into another room—if the inside of the orb could be described so simply.
The inside was far larger than the outside. The boundary behind Wild, swirling in dark cloudy blues, extended high above them—as high as the canyon outside and twenty times the height of the orb’s exterior. Their boots clacked against a rough metal floor, comprising interlocking hexagons. The floor was incomplete, exposing the same cloudy blue abyss below. Other strange metal shapes, mostly spheroid, drifted in the air ahead of them.
“By the Three,” Sky whispered. “Wild, do you recognize this?”
“No,” Wild chuckled haplessly. Given the Sheikah text on his tablet, he had hoped to find something similar to one of their shrines inside the orb. The only thing they had in common was the otherworldly feeling of the interior.
A hiss came from behind—Legend, emerging from the wall alongside Hyrule and Time. “Oh, I hate this,” he said immediately, long ears pinning against his head.
“Do you recognize this?” Warriors asked.
“Fuck no,” Legend said, waving a hand in the air. “It’s the—ugh, you can’t sense it. The magic. It’s—what is this?”
Hyrule’s gaze darted all over, his shoulders climbing to his ears. “This isn’t like any of our eras. It’s full of magic, but it’s—different?”
“Different how?” Warriors’s grip tightened on his sword as he scanned the area for threats.
Cringing, Hyrule gestured at the space at large. “Different. Look at this place. This isn’t our world. The magic tastes like iron.”
The last group emerged behind them, Twilight and Wind flanking Four, who was bracing himself for the portal’s effects. His expression went from tight and prepared for misery to bewildered in a flash, his gray eyes shifting to wide violet as he took in the sights. He dropped to his knees, startling his companions, and ran his fingers through the groves in the metal floor.
“How...?” he muttered.
“What are you thinking, Four?” Warriors asked, his voice betraying desperation for one of his brothers to recognize the place.
Four knelt lower, nearly lying on the ground to examine the floor more closely. After a painstaking minute, he drew up to his knees, staring at the metallic structures in the distance as if they might answer the questions written plain on his face. “This metal wasn’t forged. It’s—it’s as if someone mined it, already in this form. But how could that be...?”
Shoulders slumping, Warriors looked back at the other magically inclined Links. “If this magic isn’t of our world, where—?”
A beeping noise cut him off. Wild snatched his slate from his belt and tapped the message icon. As expected, a new message had appeared:
[Welcome. Thank you for your prompt cooperation.]
The Heroes crowded around Wild to see the screen—with little use, as none of them could read the script. Wild relayed the message, following it by saying, “It knows we’re in here. Where is it watching us from?”
A new message blinked onto the screen below the previous.
[You are being observed from an isolated location. You will not be able to locate this unit.]
“Want to bet on that?” Legend growled.
[You will be granted an opportunity to face this unit in combat should your performance prove satisfactory.]
“Performance?” Time echoed.
A noise erupted from the ground nearby and the group unanimously jumped, blades pointed toward the source of the sound. One of the metal floor panels sank and slid under the others, creating a gap from which a pedestal rose. On the pedestal lay a collection of cut gemstones in an array of colors.
[Your combat capabilities will be tested and analyzed. To facilitate analysis, please make use of these auracite. They will allow you to utilize the ambient aether within the interdimensional rift to augment your abilities.]
Warriors narrowed his eyes at the gems on the pedestal, grabbing the back of Wind’s shirt before the teenager could grab any. “First you threaten us, then you give us tools to use against you? What do you get out of this? Who are you?”
[This unit was deployed with the designation Chi. This unit is a scouting-class Omicron designed for interstellar data collection and analysis. This unit is equipped with weaponry which may be utilized in self-defense and for the purposes of data collection. Do you consent to analysis?]
With bewildered faces, the Chain looked at one another, their eyes wide with confusion and uncertainty.
Time crossed his arms, his one eye glaring at the metal shapes in the distance. “What if we don’t consent?”
[You have been identified as the most powerful entities on this planet and therefore the most suitable for analysis. If a more powerful entity exists, you may identify them. Alternatively, a location of strategic value will be]—Wild sucked in a breath, pausing in his translation—[eliminated once per planet rotation.]
“Oh, fuck you,” Wild hissed into his slate. “Come out and face us!”
Time put a firm hand on Wild’s shoulder. “If we undergo your trials, you’ll make an appearance and allow us to fight you. Am I understanding you correctly?”
Wild’s slate beeped in his quaking hands. He snapped off a growl and looked at the screen. “Yes,” he translated. “It will fight us like a godsdammed—”
“Wild,” Warriors said. “Stand down. We can’t fight what isn’t here. We press on until we find it.”
Chewing on his lips, Wild shrugged off Time’s hand. “It’s asking if we consent.”
The others glanced at each other, swords still firmly in hand, before looking to Time. “It’s your era, Wild,” Time said. “If you think we can deal with this another way, we will follow your lead. We’re with you.”
“It’s my era, but this”—Wild gestured at the alien environment—“this isn’t my world. I don’t know what else to do. So yes. We’ll play its game.” His slate beeped in response, and Wild cursed again when he saw the screen. “Are you serious?”
“What now?” Twilight asked, squinting at the device over Wild’s shoulder.
[Maximum entrants: Eight. Please designate the members of your party.]
“It’s making us leave someone behind?” Four protested, just before the others joined in with their complaints. It violated the most important rule the Chain kept: no one goes into danger alone.
The only one not arguing was Hyrule, whose calm voice cut through the noise. “What defines an entrant?”
The Chain paused, and a beep from the slate followed.
[An entrant is a living organism capable of autonomous combat. Entrants may be accompanied by auxiliary companions such as summons or familiars.]
Hyrule’s ears perked. “A familiar?”
[A familiar is a magical creature that aids its summoner or creator.]
“Is a fairy a familiar?”
A mischievous grin spread across Legend’s face, his violet eyes lighting up with pride at his successor.
After a short delay, the slate beeped again. [Local data accessed and evaluated. Fairies are broadly incapable of effective combat. Fairies are known to excel in auxiliary support. A fairy may qualify as a familiar.]
Hyrule pumped his fist and immediately transformed back into his fairy form, landing on Legend’s hat with a smug smile.
“Is this acceptable then?” Warriors asked, aiming the question to the space at large.
[Re-evaluating. Maximum entrants: eight. Entrants found: eight. Auxiliary unit: one. The entrance criteria have been met. Please note that changes in party size will result in disqualification from the proceeding trials. When you are prepared, please enter the portal.]
As Wild finished relaying the message, a wide ring of light appeared on the other side of the pedestal, giving off a faint hum as its magic—aether?—grazed the metal floor.
“So, can we take these?” Wind asked. While the others were crowded around the slate, he had sidled closer to the pedestal, a grabby hand hovering over a gem.
Legend walked around him and snatched a green gem off the pedestal, ignoring Wind’s squawk of protest. He turned it over in his hands. “Hmm. What did Chi call these? Auracite?”
The others gathered round, picking up their own gems for inspection. Hyrule hopped off Legend’s hat and landed on the pedestal. In his fairy form, each gem was the size of his torso.
“It’s the same weird magic,” Hyrule said, resting a hand on a pale blue gem. “I’m not sure what to make of them. It’s like speaking another language.”
Four held a stone in each hand—a purple teardrop gem and a dark red, spiked gem, respectively engraved with a fireball and starburst-like shape—as if weighing them. He raised the purple one. “It differs from what we’re accustomed to, but this has the feel of some elemental magic—fire, ice, and lightning, specifically.”
“Ooh, trade.” Legend lifted the gem from Four’s palm, setting a white stone in its place. Four was about to protest, but then he looked at the new stone in his hand. It was engraved in blue with four star symbols. With a grin, he pocketed it and the dark stone, appeased.
There were twenty-one stones for the eight of them. After a perplexing warning from Wild to not eat the gems—just in case—everyone grabbed two, giving the more obvious symbols to their appropriate Heroes, like the harp and shield to Sky. Legend quickly sniffed out a second stone with strong elemental magic and claimed it. After a few minutes of bickering, the others dissuaded the item-hoarding veteran from claiming the rest of the gems too and distributed the remaining five at random (allowing Legend a third elementally-charged red gem).
Wild, who had claimed three stones, fiddled with the blue one he had chosen first while the group meandered in the direction of the portal. Chi didn’t seem inclined to rush them now that they had consented to its trials, but it also wasn’t giving them any hints on how to use the stones. The magic-users in the group spent a few minutes channeling magic through their stones to no avail, until Legend declared they were likely passive enchantments like the rings on his fingers.
It almost feels like a Secret Stone, Wild thought, as he traced the dragon face engraved on the gem with a thumb. He didn’t have a Secret Stone of his own, but the gem he picked felt something like Tulin’s, the Sage of Wind of his era. If they were stones of elemental magic, perhaps it should have gone to the Hero of Winds, but...
“Wild?” someone called, breaking Wild from his thoughts. With a jolt, he looked up to find the others crowded around the portal. He jogged over and once again took his place between Sky and Warriors before entering the portal.
Like the portal leading into Chi’s interdimensional rift, the expected bumpy-stretchy transition between eras never came, even as the metal beneath their boots gave way to grass. Strong winds grabbed Wild’s long hair and cloak and he had to brace to not be knocked aside by the gales.
Sky, taking to the wind like a duck to water, broke formation with the other knights and rushed forward, a grin spreading across his face. “A sky island!”
“Is this your era then?” Warriors yelled over the wind. “That didn’t feel like time travel.”
Even so, it did look like Sky’s era—or his homeland, at least. Brushing unruly hair and cloth out of his face, Wild got a good look around. They had emerged from the portal—which was no longer visibly present behind them—on an island the size of a medium house. Instead of sea, the horizon stretched across an endless sky, an ocean of clouds far below. But unlike Sky’s era, with its perpetually clear skies, the skies here were almost yellow with storm clouds.
The others emerged from thin air behind them, giving similar exclamations about Sky’s era as they oriented themselves.
“What’s the first trial then?” Twilight asked, looking around at the empty island. “Do you think it’s a fight?”
“I’d put money on it,” Legend said, a fire rod resting on one shoulder and a hand on his hip. He gestured at the area with the rod. “Look at this. Circular, flat area? Nothing around? This is a boss arena.”
On cue, an unearthly wail ripped through the air, shaking the island. The swordsmen braced and jumped into formation back-to-back, holding weapons and shields out against whatever threat appeared.
Nothing did at first, until another shake rattled the island and an enormous, whale-like creature surged up from below, soaring above the island in a graceful breach. Its whale song reverberated in their chests like thunder.
“No,” Legend hissed. “Not a fucking—”
Wild’s slate beeped, and he ducked behind Twilight’s shield to read the new message.
[Historical data retrieved regarding entities of unusual strength to serve as opponents. Entity replicated. Combat analysis initiated. Your first trial begins now.]
Sky looked back at Wild with wide, pleading eyes. “It’s going to make us fight Levias?!”
The flying whale—Levias—turned gracefully in the air, bringing the thick bone plate on his head level with the island. He beat his tail against the clouds, churning the mist into maelstroms, and rammed directly into the island with a bone-jarring screech.
Worlds away, a woman leaned over a chair, staring hard at the screen before her. A gloved hand gripped the chair, its synthesized material folding under duress. Below her, two Loporrits—the moon’s rabbit-like inhabitants—typed away furiously on the keyboards before them, text scrolling on their individual screens at high speed.
“Fiona?” one of the Loporrits asked, pausing their typing to look up at the woman. “Is something the matter? You can understand them, yes?”
Fiona licked her lips, brown eyes still locked on the screen, searching. She hummed an affirmative before suddenly surging forward, pointing. “Wait—stop the feed! Go back, to the short one!”
The other Loporrit’s ears perked and they wound a dial backwards. The screen paused and the video rewound until it came to a stop centered on the young man in the quad-colored tunic.
Under Fiona’s grip, the chair made a deathly creaking noise. Its occupant looked at the chair and up at Fiona, ears drawn back in alarm.
A complicated expression fell over Fiona’s face—cold steel mourning. “Four...” she muttered. “They called him ‘Four.’”
The Loporrit below glanced between her and the screen. “Do...you know him?”
Fiona took a deep, calming breath, finally relaxing her death grip on the chair, although her teeth worried at her lips. “...Get Jammingway here as soon as possible. We need to talk to those boys now. They could be in grave danger.”
With an exaggerated salute, the Loporrits resumed their typing, pulling up new screens and sending summons to their far-away compatriot. Meanwhile, Fiona’s eyes drifted not to the young man on the screen, but to the ground beneath his feet and the absence that had caught her eye immediately—a missing shadow.
Like an Ascian, she thought. The Fourth.