The Azure Sky Sect's evening bells chimed through the mist as Kael and Tao emerged from the Verdant Lotus Forest. The fragment burned against Kael's palm, its heat seeping through his robes like molten iron. The sigil on his forehead pulsed in response, sending waves of agony through his skull that made his vision blur at the edges. Blood had dried in rusty streaks beneath his nose, but his expression remained carved from stone.
Tao stumbled beside him, his face pale and drawn. The boy kept glancing at Kael with a mixture of awe and terror, as if he couldn't decide whether his savior was a saint or a demon. The silence between them stretched taut as bowstring as they approached the sect's western gate.
"Senior Brother," Tao whispered, his voice barely audible above the rustle of evening wind through bamboo. "What will you tell Elder Feng?"
Kael's lips curved into something that might have been a smile on a different face. "The truth. That I retrieved what he asked for."
The gatekeepers barely glanced at them as they passed—two mud-stained disciples returning from a routine herb gathering, nothing more. Kael had counted on their disinterest. The Azure Sky Sect's outer disciples were little more than servants, beneath the notice of anyone who mattered.
As they crossed the main courtyard, Kael's eyes swept the shadows between the pavilions. Feng's spies would be watching, reporting back on every detail of their return. The elder would be expecting success, but more importantly, he would be expecting obedience. Kael intended to give him neither.
"Go to your quarters," Kael commanded, his voice flat. "Say nothing to anyone about what happened in the ravine. If someone asks, we found nothing but worthless herbs."
Tao nodded frantically, his relief palpable. "Yes, Senior Brother. Thank you, I—"
"Don't." Kael's eyes were cold as winter stone. "Gratitude is weakness here. Remember that."
The boy's face crumpled slightly, but he bowed and scurried away into the darkness. Kael watched him go, calculating. Tao's loyalty was useful, but loyalty built on sentiment was fragile. He would need to forge stronger chains if he intended to keep the boy as a tool.
Elder Feng's pavilion loomed ahead, its windows glowing with warm lamplight. The carved dragons that adorned its eaves seemed to leer down at Kael as he approached, their wooden eyes reflecting the fragment's pulsing glow. He could feel the elder's presence within, a coiled serpent waiting to strike.
Kael paused at the threshold, his hand resting on the door frame. The fragment in his palm whispered secrets in a language older than empires, its runes shifting like living things. The power it contained was intoxicating, a reminder of what he had lost and what he might reclaim. But power without patience was merely destruction. And Kael had learned patience in the hardest of schools.
He knocked once, twice, then entered without waiting for permission.
Feng sat behind a low table, tea steaming in delicate porcelain cups. The elder's expression was serene, but Kael could see the hunger lurking beneath the surface—the same desperate need that had driven him to dig up corpses and make bargains with shadows.
"Ah, young Kael," Feng said, his voice honey over broken glass. "I trust your journey was... enlightening?"
Kael approached the table and sat without invitation, his movements precise and controlled. The fragment remained hidden in his palm, its heat a constant reminder of the power at his fingertips.
"The ravine was guarded," Kael said simply. "Your disciples didn't survive the encounter."
Feng's composure slipped for just an instant—a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "A pity. They were adequate servants."
"Adequate servants make for poor warriors," Kael replied. "Perhaps next time, send someone with actual skill."
The elder's eyes narrowed. "And did you find what I sent you to retrieve?"
Kael reached into his robes and withdrew the fragment, setting it on the table between them. The runes along its surface flared to life, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Feng's breath caught, his pupils dilating as he leaned forward.
"Beautiful," he whispered, his fingers hovering just above the shard's surface. "The craftsmanship is exquisite. Pre-Convergence, without question."
Kael watched the elder's reaction with detached interest. Feng's knowledge of the Spire was extensive but incomplete—he knew enough to recognize power but not enough to understand its true nature. That ignorance would be his downfall.
"The sigil," Kael said, touching his forehead where the mark still burned. "Remove it."
Feng's laugh was soft and mocking. "My dear boy, our arrangement has only just begun. This fragment is merely the first course of a much larger feast."
"Then you'll starve," Kael said, his voice cutting. "I've fulfilled my part of the bargain. Remove the sigil, or find another fool to chase your ghosts."
The elder's smile turned predatory. "I think not. You see, there are other fragments scattered throughout the region. Larger ones. More powerful ones. And you, my talented young friend, are going to help me collect them all."
Kael's expression didn't change, but inside, his mind was racing. He had expected this—Feng's greed was as predictable as sunrise. The elder saw Kael as a useful tool, nothing more. A blade to be wielded until it broke, then discarded.
"And if I refuse?"
Feng gestured casually, and the sigil on Kael's forehead flared with excruciating pain. Kael's vision went white for a moment, his jaw clenching as fire raced through his veins. When the agony subsided, he found himself on his knees, blood dripping onto the wooden floor.
"The mark will consume you slowly," Feng said conversationally, as if discussing the weather. "Cell by cell, memory by memory. You'll beg for death long before it claims you."
Kael wiped the blood from his mouth and rose to his feet, his movements steady despite the tremor in his hands. "How many fragments?"
"Seven, by my count. Perhaps eight." Feng lifted his tea cup and sipped delicately. "Each one more dangerous to retrieve than the last. But I have faith in your abilities."
Kael's eyes fixed on the fragment between them. Its light had dimmed to a faint ember, but he could still feel its power calling to him. The Spire's legacy was scattered across this world like seeds waiting to sprout. And Feng, in his ignorance, was helping to gather them all in one place.
"There's something else," the elder continued. "The Crimson Lotus Sect has been asking questions about Spire artifacts. Their scouts have been seen in the surrounding territories."
Kael's attention sharpened. "What kind of questions?"
"The dangerous kind. They know something is stirring, something that shouldn't exist in this world." Feng's smile widened. "Which makes our work all the more urgent."
The Crimson Lotus Sect. Kael filed the name away for future consideration. In his experience, those who asked questions about power usually sought to claim it for themselves. They would need to be dealt with, one way or another.
"The next fragment," Kael said. "Where is it?"
Feng unrolled another map, this one depicting the jagged peaks of the Mourning Mountains. A crimson X marked a location deep in the range, surrounded by warnings written in the elder's spidery script.
"The Tomb of the Weeping Emperor," Feng said. "A nasty place, full of restless spirits and worse things. The locals avoid it like plague."
Kael studied the map, noting the various hazards marked along the approach routes. The tomb was a fortress of the dead, its guardians bound by curses older than memory. But curses, like chains, could be broken if one knew the right words.
"When do I leave?"
"Tomorrow, at first light. And Kael?" Feng's voice carried a note of warning. "Don't think to betray me. The sigil will know if you try to flee, and the pain you felt just now will seem like a gentle caress compared to what follows."
Kael nodded, his expression neutral. "Understood."
He rose to leave, then paused at the door. "The boy, Tao. He's proven useful. I'll need him for the mountain crossing."
Feng waved dismissively. "Take him. Take whoever you need. Just bring me that fragment."
Kael stepped out into the cool night air, his mind already turning to the challenges ahead. The Mourning Mountains were treacherous enough without the added complication of ancient guardians. But every obstacle was also an opportunity for those clever enough to see it.
He made his way back to the disciples' quarters, his footsteps silent on the stone paths. The fragment's power still pulsed in his memory, a tantalizing reminder of what he had lost and what he might yet reclaim. But power, like wine, was best savored slowly.
Tao was waiting in his room, huddled on his cot like a frightened rabbit. The boy looked up as Kael entered, hope and fear warring in his eyes.
"Senior Brother? What did Elder Feng say?"
"We're leaving again," Kael said, settling onto his own cot. "Tomorrow. The mountains this time."
Tao's face went pale. "The Mourning Mountains? But the stories—"
"Are probably true," Kael interrupted. "Which is why you're going to tell me everything you know about them. Every legend, every warning, every scrap of folklore your family ever shared."
The boy swallowed hard but nodded. "My grandmother used to say the mountains were cursed. That an emperor's entire army vanished there, swallowed by the earth itself."
"What else?"
"The tomb. They say it moves on its own, appearing in different places depending on the moon's phase. And the spirits..." Tao shuddered. "They say the spirits can steal your face, wear it like a mask."
Kael absorbed this information, filing it away with the rest. Legends often contained grains of truth, and those grains could mean the difference between success and death.
"Get some sleep," he commanded. "We have a long journey ahead."
As Tao settled into his blankets, Kael stared out the window at the distant mountains. Their peaks were lost in clouds, their secrets hidden in shadow. But secrets, like locks, existed to be opened. And Kael had always been good with locks.
The sigil on his forehead throbbed with renewed pain, reminding him of the chains that bound him. But chains, too, could be broken—if one was patient enough to find their weakest link.
Elder Feng thought he had found a loyal servant, a useful tool to be discarded when its purpose was served. But tools, in the right hands, could become weapons. And weapons, properly wielded, could cut through any chain.
Kael closed his eyes and began to plan.