"My informants told me a child at the Academy was vouched for by Ronan Sunstrider," Vaelos said, hopping down from the railing. He didn't look at the view; he looked only at me. "Apparently the Noble Sunstrider house is alive and well. I told them that was impossible but they assured me that not only is the Patriarch back, he was also followed by a full retinue of soldiers and servants. If I couldn't read their minds I would have sworn that they were lying to me. But here you are. They tell me your name is Murphy Sunstrider."
I froze, my back pressing hard against the cold stone balustrade. Vaelos took a slow drag from his weirwood pipe, the blue smoke hanging unnaturally still in the air between us.
"I must admit," the Emperor continued, his voice deceptively light, "I did not know Ronan had any siblings, let alone a nephew. But then again, he always kept his cards close to his chest."
He took a step closer, his silver eyes narrowing as he scanned me. The pressure coming off him was immense, like standing next to a reactor core with a leak. It wasn't magical aura, strictly speaking; it was the sheer weight of his presence.
"And you are just like him," Vaelos murmured. "Quiet."
He tilted his head, listening to a sound only he could hear—or rather, the absence of one.
"There are only a very small handful of people in history who can exist in my presence without screaming their thoughts into my skull," he said, sounding almost relieved. "Ronan was one. And now, you." He shook his head, looking impressed. "The bloodline is strong."
'Brother?!' I screamed internally, panic flaring in my chest like a flare gun going off in a closet. 'Ronan, why didn't you tell me the Emperor is your brother?'
'We are not related by blood,' Ronan's voice replied instantly, tight and heavy in the back of my mind. 'He always called me Big Brother. I called him Little Brother. It was... a bond of circumstance. But he holds to it fiercely.'
'Yeah, but you are friends with the fucking Emperor and you never mentioned it!?' I yelled in my mind, staring wide-eyed at the most powerful man in the world. 'Why the fuck have we been scratching the bottom of the barrel when you could have just called up your Emperor buddy and asked him for some gold and a couple thousand blue cores?!'
'It is a lot more complicated than it looks,' Ronan sighed. 'Trust me.'
Vaelos stopped a few feet away from me. He exhaled a perfect ring of smoke that drifted past my ear.
"So," Vaelos said softly. "Where is he? My spies tell me he stood before the Soul Tapping artefact himself."
'We can't tell him the truth, at least not yet,' Ronan warned me quickly. 'He is likely going to take you back to the Capital and wait for me to come to him if you don't tell him where I am. We need time to strategise. Ask him if you can relay a message.'
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to remain steady. My heart was hammering against my ribs, and I prayed the Emperor couldn't hear that.
"My Uncle isn't here right now," I said. "He... values his privacy. But if you have words for him, I can relay a message."
Vaelos looked at me. For a second, the air grew incredibly cold. He studied my face, searching for a lie, for a flicker of deceit, but my mind was a void to him. A perfect, silent black box.
Then, he smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile. It was the smile of a predator playing with its food.
"A message," Vaelos repeated softly. "Very well."
He turned his back on me, walking toward the shadows of the archway.
"Tell him I am staying at the Glass Gardens. He has twenty-four hours to come and find me."
Vaelos stopped at the edge of the shadow and looked back over his shoulder. His silver eyes glinted in the fading light.
"And tell him not to be late. If he isn't there in twenty-four hours... well, I will just have to take you on a trip to the Capital. I am sure Ronan will come to fetch his favourite nephew eventually."
It was a veiled threat, delivered with the politeness of a courtier. Bring me the Patriarch, or I am kidnapping the boy.
"Twenty-four hours," Vaelos said.
And then, with a silent step, he was gone, leaving me alone on the balcony with the smell of weirwood smoke and impending doom.
I didn't wait for him to change his mind. I turned and walked away from the balcony, my boots hitting the stone pavement with a heavy, angry rhythm.
As I stepped back through the archway and into the grand promenade of the Rift Arena, the world tilted.
It wasn't just the nobles near the balcony. It was everyone.
For nearly a square kilometer, the packed arena—filled with students, Guild Masters, and visiting dignitaries—was blinking groggily. People were stumbling as they stood up from where they had slumped against pillars or collapsed into chairs. It was as if a massive, invisible wave had washed over the Academy, forcing everyone into a sudden, unnatural slumber for the last two minutes.
I stepped over a puddle of crimson wine spreading across the marble floor. A server, looking terrified, was staring at the bottle in his hand, realising he had been mid-pour when consciousness simply ceased. The glass he was filling had overflowed, splashing onto the boots of a confusingly silent noble.
"What... what was that?" a student whispered nearby.
"The Quiet," a woman answered, her voice trembling with a mix of terror and reverence. She clutched her pearl necklace, her eyes wide. "He was here."
A ripple of panic and awe tore through the crowd. They knew. This wasn't an attack; it was a signature. The Emperor didn't need to announce his arrival with trumpets; the weight of his mind simply crushed the consciousness of anyone unprepared to face it.
"The Emperor is in Lastlight!"
"Vaelos..."
Some fell to their knees in religious ecstasy; others looked ready to bolt for the exits. I pulled my hood up and kept moving, keeping my head down, weaving through the confusion before anyone noticed the one boy who hadn't been asleep.
I ducked into the servant's corridor, escaping the rising chaos of the main hall. The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut behind me, blocking out the noise, the adrenaline crashed. My knees buckled slightly, and I had to catch myself against the rough stone wall.
'So,' I thought, projecting my voice loud enough to rattle my own skull. 'Let me get this straight. You are best friends with the entity that just knocked out half the Academy. You call him "Little Brother".'
'Yes,' Ronan replied, his voice calm but guarded. He knew what was coming.
'And yet,' I continued, pushing off the wall and marching down the tunnel, scattering a pair of startled maids who were still rubbing sleep from their eyes. 'For the last month, we have been scraping by! We have been hunting monsters in the wild, risking our necks in the Academy exams, and sweating over every single Blue Core just to keep the lights on!'
I stopped near a mana lamp, the steady blue glow casting long, angry shadows across the floor.
'When all this time... you could have just called up your buddy Vaelos and asked for a loan?' I demanded. 'A couple of thousand Blue Cores? Maybe a nice villa in the Golden District? Or better yet, maybe he could have just handed us the resources we needed instead of us having to claw our way up from the bottom of the pile!'
'It is not that simple, Murphy,' Ronan said, his tone weary.
'It seems pretty simple from here!' I snapped. 'He isn't trying to kill you. He wants to have a drink with you! He misses you! Why didn't you tell me we had a literal Golden Ticket sitting in the capital?'
'Because if I had asked him for anything,' Ronan said, his tone hardening, 'he would not be my brother. He would be my Emperor.'
I stopped walking. The corridor was empty now, just the damp smell of stone and the distant, muffled panic of the party above.
'What does that mean?'
'Think about what he is, Murphy,' Ronan explained, his voice softening, tinged with a deep, ancient sadness. 'He hears everyone. Every desire, every plot, every desperate plea for power. It is a constant noise in his head. A never-ending storm of "I want, I need, give me."'
I stayed silent, listening.
'The only reason he trusted me—the only reason he could sit in a room with me and feel safe—was because he couldn't read me,' Ronan continued. 'And more importantly, because I never asked for anything. Not once.'
I leaned back against the wall, sliding down until I was crouching on my heels.
'If I had asked for gold,' Ronan said softly, 'or power, or favours... I would have been just like the rest of them. A noise he couldn't silence. Even if he couldn't hear my thoughts, my actions would have screamed "Greed". The only way he could trust a man he couldn't read was if that man never wanted anything from him.'
I stared at the stone floor for a moment, digesting that. It was a twisted, lonely kind of logic, but it made sense. In a world of mind-readers, the only currency that mattered wasn't gold—it was intent. Vaelos was the most powerful man in the world, and likely the loneliest.
'Fine,' I sighed. 'But that doesn't explain why you kept it a secret from me. We could have planned for this.'
'If I had appeared before him and asked for help,' Ronan countered, 'he would have immediately been on guard. He would have thought it was a trap. He knows the real Ronan would never ask.'
Ronan paused, letting the gravity of the situation sink in.
'In a world of magic and gods, an Emperor has to be suspicious of everything. If a Static mind suddenly showed up, claiming to be his long-lost brother and asked for resources? He wouldn't hand them over. He would likely strap that person to a chair and torture them until he found out what the "real" game was. Since he can't read my mind, pain would be the only way to extract the truth.'
I winced. 'Okay. Point taken. No asking for favours.'
''And besides,' Ronan added, his voice sounding frustrated, 'this specific option—the ability to physically present a body to him—literally only opened its doors a day ago. We only just figured out how to polymorph the Clone. Before that? We would never have gotten an audience. Do you think the Emperor meets with every stray student who claims to be a relative?'
Ronan paused, his mental voice shifting to a more strategic tone.
'We were already playing the long game. The Rift Games. If we distinguished ourselves enough to join the Academy team that faces the other Empire's academies... from what we found out Vaelos always attends the finals personally. I thought if we made it there, standing in the arena in front of him, and an opportunity presented itself... I might have pitched the idea of making contact.'
He let out a sharp, mental sigh.
'But honestly, Murphy? It wasn't even worth mentioning to you. Because even if we managed to stand before him, we couldn't actually get anything from him. The moment we asked for help, the dynamic would shatter. Why taunt you with a "Golden Ticket" that we could never cash in?'
'You thought he'd send a letter?' I asked.
'I thought he would send a summons,' Ronan admitted. 'I didn't think he would come himself. I was naive to think the Emperor would wait.'
I stood up, dusting off my trousers.
'Well, naive or not, your high morals and his paranoia have put a deadline on my head. He gave us twenty-four hours to get to the Glass Gardens.'
'I know,' Ronan said.
'We need a plan,' I said.
'We need Elrend.' Ronan replied.
I turned and sprinted down the corridor.
I found Elrend near the entrance of the Faculty Viewing Room.
The corridor was a mess of confusion. Dignitaries were checking their pockets, students were rubbing their eyes, and a few members of the staff were frantically checking the mana-lines in the walls, convinced the lighting system had caused a mass seizure.
Elrend was leaning against the doorframe, one hand pressed to his temple. He looked pale, his usually immaculate robes slightly ruffled, as if he had slumped against the wall while unconscious. He was blinking rapidly, trying to clear the fog from his eyes.
When he saw me, he froze.
I didn't say a word. I just pulled my hood down slightly so he could see my face, then jerked my head toward the administrative wing.
Elrend stared at me for a heartbeat. The colour drained from his face even further. He didn't ask what had happened. He knew exactly whose mind was heavy enough to crush the consciousness of an entire stadium.
He gave a sharp, grim nod, straightened his robes with a trembling hand, and pushed off the wall.
"My office," he murmured as he passed me. "Walk quickly."
The moment the heavy door to his office clicked shut, Elrend spun around. He raised a hand, his fingers tracing a complex sigil in the air.
"Silence. Ward. Lock."
The air pressure in the room shifted as the privacy spells slammed into place, sealing us off from the rest of the Academy. The muffled roar of the confused crowd outside vanished instantly, replaced by the ticking of the clock on his desk.
Elrend turned to me, his eyes wide.
"Tell me," he demanded.
"He's at the Glass Gardens," I said, my voice sounding too loud in the sudden quiet. "He knows."
Elrend gripped the back of his chair, his knuckles turning white. "He knows what, Murphy? Does he know about you?"
"He knows Ronan Sunstrider has a nephew," I said quickly. "He knows the Patriarch is back. He doesn't know I have a ghost in my head. He thinks I'm just a messenger."
Elrend let out a long, shaky breath and sank into his chair. "Merciful gods. He is here. Vaelos is actually here."
"He gave us a deadline," I continued, stepping further into the room. "Twenty-four hours. He told me to tell the Patriarch to meet him at the Glass Gardens, or he's taking me to the Capital."
"Kidnapping?" Elrend whispered.
"He called it a 'trip'," I said grimly. "But yeah. Kidnapping."
'It is time,' Ronan said in my mind.
I nodded to the empty space in the centre of the room. I stepped back, giving myself clearance.
"Ronan," I said.
The air in the office grew heavy as a mannequin of pure, white mana formed in the air, knitting itself together from nothing. It stood seven feet tall, broad-shouldered and imposing Ronan clone. He wore the golden plate armour, etched with the sun-flare crest, and a heavy crimson cape that pooled on the floor around his sabatons.
Ronan opened his eyes—the Clone's eyes—and looked at Elrend. He rolled his neck, the armour clinking softly.
"Elrend," the Clone said. The voice was deep, commanding.
Elrend stood up slowly. "My Lord," Elrend said, bowing his head deeply. "We are in a catastrophic position."
"I know," Ronan said, crossing his armoured arms. "Vaelos is paranoid. If I walk in there alone, he won't believe it's me. Or worse, he will think I am an impostor sent to assassinate him."
"We need a story," I said, pacing near the bookshelf. "We can't tell him the truth. If we tell him Ronan is a ghost living in the head of a teenage boy from another dimension... he's going to lock us in a vault and dissect our brain."
"We could say he was injured," I suggested, looking between them. "That he was in stasis? Or maybe he was trapped in a dungeon?"
"No," Elrend said sharply.
I stopped pacing. "Why not? It's plausible. He's been gone a hundred years."
"Murphy," Elrend said, his voice hard. "You are dealing with the Emperor of the Silver Throne. He reads minds. He peels back the layers of a man's soul just by looking at him."
"He can't read Ronan," I countered. "That's the whole point. He's Static."
"Exactly," Elrend said, walking around his desk. "He cannot read the man. Which means he cannot verify the truth."
Elrend stopped in front of the Clone, looking up at the golden armour.
"If a man you haven't seen in a century suddenly appears, and your greatest power—your ability to know the truth—doesn't work on him... would you trust him?" Elrend asked. "Or would you suspect a trap designed specifically to bypass your defences?"
Ronan was silent. The Clone nodded slowly.
"He would suspect a trap," Ronan agreed. "He would destroy the vessel before I could even speak."
"So what do we do?" I asked, throwing my hands up. "If we lie, we die. If we tell the truth—that I'm a reincarnated anomaly—we probably also die."
"There is only one way," Elrend said quietly. He turned to face me. "I must go with him."
"You?" I asked.
"I am not Static," Elrend said. He tapped his own temple. "My mind is an open book to Vaelos. I will be the anchor."
He looked back at Ronan.
"I will stand beside you, My Lord. I will introduce you to him. And when Vaelos looks into my mind, he will see that I believe—with absolute certainty—that you are Ronan Sunstrider. He will see my memories of the polymorph test. He will see my fear, my loyalty, and my conviction."
Elrend took a deep breath, smoothing the front of his robes.
"He will use me to verify you. It is the only way to bypass his paranoia. We cannot lie. We cannot hold back. I know the full story, and I believe it."
"That is dangerous, Elrend," Ronan's voice rumbled from the Clone. "If he suspects we are conspiring... You are the one he will kill first. I am just a construct. You are flesh and blood."
"I know," Elrend said simply. He walked over to his coat rack and grabbed his official faculty mantle, throwing it over his shoulders. "But we don't have twenty-four hours to come up with a better plan. The longer we wait, the more suspicious he becomes."
Elrend opened the door, breaking the silence ward. The noise of the Academy rushed back in.
"Let's go," Elrend said. "The Emperor hates to be kept waiting."