One month later — Dratol, Outworld.

  Adam gazed out the window, his reflection flickering over a city of glass and stone. Beyond the descending airship stretched a skyline crowned by a single, golden tower that caught the light like a flame.

  So this is Dratol. He couldn’t help but smile. It’s beautiful.

  The two-month journey had carried them across deserts, seas, and jungles, but none of it compared to the view below.

  “Everyone, please disembark in an orderly fashion,” an attendant’s calm voice called from the aisle.

  Adam stayed by the window as the vessel drifted lower, drinking in the sight.

  “Boss, it’s so beautiful,” Wallace murmured.

  Adam nodded. “First time seeing it?”

  Wallace nodded eagerly.

  “Then you have me to thank,” Adam said, grinning as he patted the man’s shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

  Wallace chuckled weakly, not sure if he was being teased.

  The ship cut through a halo of mist, revealing mountain ridges painted in white and green, rivers curling through the land like silver threads. Hundreds of high-rise buildings glittered in the morning sun. And at the center of it all stood the golden tower, tall enough to pierce the clouds.

  “My word,” someone whispered nearby. “The Labyrinth of the Nameless—no matter how many times I see it, it’s breathtaking.”

  Adam’s gaze lingered on the tower. Another dungeon? It reminded him of Bloodfall Catacombs, though this one gleamed rather than loomed.

  Children pressed their faces to the glass, pointing with wide-eyed wonder. Even the adults stared in quiet reverence.

  “Boss,” Wallace whispered, “what do you think that thing is?”

  “No idea,” Adam said, eyes narrowing. “But I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough—whether we want to or not.”

  Wallace smiled faintly. “Boss, thank you for bringing me here… sincerely.”

  Adam blinked, caught off guard. “You’re welcome, I guess. Just don’t forget your job.”

  “I know, I know.” Wallace laughed softly, still watching the tower.

  Adam studied the crowd again. Why do they look like they’re worshipping it?

  The tower was magnificent, yes, but not divine. Still, the awe in their faces made him wonder if there was more to it than beauty.

  The port was chaos.

  Adam descended the massive stairway alongside Wallace and dozens of other passengers. The noise of engines, voices, and clattering footsteps filled the air. Long queues formed by the elevator platforms—each trip costing more than most could afford.

  “Captain,” Adam said as they walked, “you remember your first assignment?”

  Wallace exhaled, scratching his head. “Boss, you’re underestimating this city. How am I supposed to find an Erik Gilmore in a place this size? A picture, an address—anything would help.”

  “Use the clue I gave you,” Adam said, slipping a small sack into his hand. The faint clink of coins was lost beneath the din.

  “Take it. Consider it your pay, bonus, and expense fee.”

  Wallace gawked. “Boss—”

  “You need it more than I do,” Adam said, already turning away. “Just don’t spend it all in one place. Come to Varidan Academy once you find something.”

  Wallace hesitated. “You really trust me that much?”

  Adam almost laughed. “Why? You thinking about running off with it?”

  Wallace opened his mouth, then just smiled awkwardly.

  Adam clapped him on the shoulder. “If you do decide to run, make sure you go far. Change your name, shave your head, lose a few pounds. Maybe then I won’t find you.”

  Wallace sighed. “Thanks for the confidence.”

  “Any time, Captain.” Adam gave a small grin. “This is where we part ways. Take care of yourself.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he slipped into the crowd.

  He moved slowly down the steps, scanning faces and alleys without seeming to. A quick glance behind him revealed nothing—no Wallace, no familiar face—just the restless tide of travelers.

  Whatever he does, the money wasn’t mine anyway. Hopefully, he finds that lead soon.

  Then Adam noticed it: a broad-shouldered man standing still amid the moving crowd, eyes fixed on him. Their gazes met, only for the stranger to look away too quickly.

  A smile tugged at Adam’s lips. So, I’ve already got a tail.

  He adjusted his pace, descending the last steps with an easy spring in his stride.

  Adam threaded through the crowd, eyes flitting over a city that never stopped moving. Dratol wasn’t a collection of towns; it was one vast, breathing metropolis. Towers rose in clusters, cylindrical spires puncturing the sky, glass and stone stitched into impossible shapes. Streets boiled with people, colors and fabrics and noise folding into one endless hum.

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  They built all of this around dungeons, he thought.

  Outworld was not like Earth. Magic threaded through everything—the architecture, the clothing, even the way people carried themselves. Earth prized efficiency. Dratol preferred flourish. Curves where there should have been straight lines, ornament where a worker’s hand might otherwise rest. Adam had seen only scraps of it before; now it pressed in on him from every angle.

  He drifted with the moving tide, slipping between stalls and merchants, asking directions now and then. Every person pointed east. Every answer nudged him the same way.

  He kept a casual glance over his shoulder. Figures followed at a distance, patient and persistent.

  By evening the crowds thinned. The loud shops and neon windows gave way to tree-lined avenues and pools that caught the moonlight. Adam slowed, studying a holographic map. Two clear words glowed: Varidan Academy.

  A faint prickle ran down his spine—an awareness more than a reading, like a breeze brushing the back of his neck. He let it pass and moved on.

  An hour later he reached the empty edges of the city. A gilded sign hovered ahead in the lamplight. WARNING: BEYOND THIS POINT IS VARIDAN TERRITORY. TRESPASSERS WILL BE ELIMINATED. The letters were blunt and clean.

  No wonder it had gone quiet.

  A low stone bridge arched over a dark river. On the far bank, the shapes of the Academy rose in silhouette, clustered and severe. Adam stepped toward the crossing and slowed. Slow clapping broke the silence behind him.

  He turned. The men who had been tailing him closed the gap. Broad shoulders, faces set, the lanky leader from the ship—Dominic—stood at their head, the same smug line to his mouth.

  Adam studied them as they formed a ring. Dominic’s smile creased. “I’m impressed you didn’t run.”

  “Why would I?” Adam said, matching the cool ease of his voice to the calm of his step. He let his gaze sweep the men and the space between them. No sudden moves. No traps he could not see.

  Dominic motioned his men to fan out. “You’ve no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”

  Adam rolled his eyes. “Classic. Let’s skip the part where you threaten me and tell me who your father is.” He watched Dominic’s smile fade. “You really plan to bully a peasant with six hired thugs? How does that make you feel tough afterward?”

  The man’s jaw tightened. The brawny ones shifted, hands finding hilts. Adam took a single step closer, not fast, and their instincts showed. He let his tone soften, as if offering advice. “Common sense says you should worry about the guy who doesn’t look scared. Your survival instincts are weak. I feel bad for your loved ones.”

  Dominic barked, “Shut up!”

  Adam only laughed. He spread his arms slightly, casually. “Fine. Since you followed me all this way, don’t waste the effort. Give me your best shot.”

  He waited, palms loose, smile on his face, exactly where they could see it.

  Dominic’s sneer deepened. “Let’s see if you can still wear that smile when we’re done with you.”

  Adam nodded once, as if humoring a child. “Varidan Academy,” he said.

  Dominic blinked. “What?”

  “Varidan Academy,” Adam repeated, slower this time.

  The men exchanged puzzled glances. Dominic scoffed, trying to recover his composure. “Now you’re pretending to be one of them? You think we’re fools?”

  “I never mentioned my association with them,” Adam replied. “People just love filling in the blanks.” His smile didn’t waver.

  Dominic’s jaw tightened. He lifted his hand, and his men began to close in.

  Adam stayed still, gaze locked on Dominic’s eyes. The air between them thickened—then one of the thugs stepped forward and leaned in close to whisper something to his leader.

  Adam couldn’t hear the words, but he saw the color drain from Dominic’s face. The man’s eyes darted toward the shadows lining the bridge, scanning the treeline, the air. Searching.

  “Having second thoughts?” Adam asked lightly.

  Dominic’s glare snapped back to him, brittle and furious. “This isn’t over,” he spat.

  Adam tilted his head, unimpressed. “Typical,” he said, his tone almost kind. “Goodbye, young master.”

  He lifted a hand in a lazy wave.

  Dominic stood frozen for a moment, fists clenched at his sides, then jerked his head toward his men. “We’re leaving.”

  Adam watched them retreat, their figures shrinking against the night. The rhythmic sound of their boots faded into the hush of crickets and river water.

  He breathed out a quiet laugh. That’s one cliché avoided… for now.

  Adam crossed the bridge slowly, watching the water slide past below. Moonlight picked out the ripples; farther on, black towers cut up out of the darkness—tall, hulking things that looked less like architecture and more like carved jaws.

  Dungeons, he thought.

  He had seen too many on the trip to Dratol not to recognize one.

  A steady hand landed on his shoulder before he could turn. A rough voice, low and flat, asked, “Identify yourself. Trespassers will be punished under Varidan law.”

  Adam inhaled, steadying the pulse at his throat. “I’m here to join the academy,” he said.

  “Where’s your recommendation letter?”

  He hadn’t expected that. Vicar had never mentioned anything about a letter. He felt for an answer and let it go instead. “You can confirm with the Academy,” he said.

  Silence tightened around them, but the grip on his shoulder stayed. “Name?”

  “Adam.”

  “Age?”

  “Seventeen.”

  The hand pinched once, like a quick test, then loosened.

  “Don’t make unnecessary movements,” the guard snapped. “I’ll confirm your identity.”

  Adam nodded. He kept his hands visible at his sides, nothing sudden.

  A blue light flared behind, warm and clear, swallowing the moon’s silver.

  “This is Fyren from the outer sector,” the guard announced aloud. “Confirm identity of a prospective student. Redirect me to Registry.”

  The tones that followed were formal, clipped. Adam resisted the urge to glance at the guard.

  “Current location?” came the monotone.

  “Eastern sector,” the guard answered.

  Cold trickled along Adam’s spine. The blue glow hummed in his ears.

  The guard had mentioned his name and age, but the monotonous voice had yet to confirm it.

  “There is a new student under that name in our records,” the voice said. “Request him to name his sponsor.”

  Something nudged Adam’s back. He swallowed. “Erik Gilmore,” he said.

  Silence stretched. Adam’s chest felt too tight.

  Then the monotone returned, low and final. “Guard 2345. Eliminate the intruder who wandered into the eastern section. Before that, escort student 009 to Year One registration.”

  The words landed like a stone.

  Adam took a deep breath. Damn, I thought it was over for me.

  The blue radiance silently disappeared, but he still did not turn.

  “You may turn now.”

  Adam turned his head, eyes meeting a figure that looked carved from shadow. The man stood taller than anyone he had met—broad-shouldered beneath a sweeping black coat. A mask covered his face, the surface shifting and whirling like liquid metal. Not a patch of skin showed.

  “Apologies for the inconvenience,” the figure said, voice low and faintly distorted.

  “It’s no problem,” Adam replied with an easy smile. “You were only doing your job.”

  The figure gave what sounded like a sigh through the mask. “It’s rare to meet people who think that way.” He extended a gloved hand. “Fyren. I’m an Aviskin.”

  Aviskin? The word meant nothing to him.

  Adam clasped the offered hand. “Adam. Nice to meet you.”

  Fyren’s grip was firm but oddly cold, like polished stone. When they released, the guard tilted his head. “It’s either you don’t know what an Aviskin is, or you’re from beyond the Wall. Which is it?”

  Adam just smiled.

  Fyren lowered his head slightly. “Forgive me. I spoke out of turn.”

  Why the sudden change? Adam kept his expression calm. “I didn’t take offense. When do we leave?”

  “Now,” Fyren said.

  A hand clamped around Adam’s wrist. The ground tilted, the river flashing beside him. He caught a glimpse of light twisting in the air ahead—space itself bending into a spiral.

  “What are you—”

  The question died on his tongue as a swirling gateway bloomed before them. A heartbeat later, the world folded in on itself, and both figures vanished into the portal.