Rugr crouched on the ridge line, listening to the desert’s whispers while contemplating the endless, star-strewn depths above. When the sun had set and the temperature dropped, he’d built a fire after the boy had fallen into a deep sleep. It seemed low risk, and the task had given his restless hands purpose.

  Though not immune to the desert’s extremes, Rugr could endure them well. The fire wasn’t for him—it was for Thespis, who lay curled by the shelter’s edge, far from the safety of home. Rugr didn’t particularly like the boy. Thespis was spoiled, arrogant, and prone to cowardice. Yet Rugr knew the boy’s world had never demanded more of him. Rugr wondered, without his own caring family and demanding teachers, what might he have become?

  Movement below caught his eye—a lone figure standing in the faint glow of the moonlight, gazing up at their position. Behind him, two others crouched in the shadow of a sandstone wall, waiting. Rugr recognized Dungr immediately—his brother had been trailing them for hours. Rugr had felt his presence like a shadow at his back but chose not to alert Thespis. The boy’s nerves were fragile enough without the added tension.

  The figure moved upward, navigating the rough terrain with ease. Dungr climbed the rocks, and Rugr didn’t have to wait long to see his brother’s familiar, grinning face. Exhausted, Rugr offered him little more than a nod and a grunt of acknowledgment. The two figures below followed him but waited for Dungr to signal them.

  “I didn’t expect you so soon, brother,” Dungr said, “I’ve only been back a few days myself.”

  “I took a shortcut,” Rugr said.

  Dungr placed a firm hand on Rugr’s shoulder, his grin softening into concern. “You brought the box?”

  Rugr nodded toward the shelter. “It’s inside.”

  Dungr’s eyes flicked toward the firelight, catching on Thespis’s sleeping form. “Who’s your friend? That’s not the girl you mentioned in Balta.”

  “Thespis,” Rugr said shortly, not willing to explain further. “The girl’s brother—though not by blood.”

  Dungr’s brow lifted with interest, but he held his questions. Instead, he motioned the two figures forward and murmured instructions for them to keep watch at the shelter’s entrance. Then he followed Rugr inside.

  Dungr set a long, thin lizard by the fire; its head smashed beyond recognition. “A meal,” he said gruffly. His gaze lingered on Thespis, who stirred but did not wake. A long moment passed before Dungr turned back to Rugr, his brow furrowed.

  “He’s the spitting image of Markus,” Dungr said, his tone cautious. “I see Nima in his softer features. Tell me he is not their son.”

  Rugr’s face was grim as he gave a single nod. Dungr huffed a low laugh, glancing toward the guards outside to ensure they couldn’t overhear.

  “Well, brother, this complicates things.”

  “Indeed,” Rugr muttered. “The fates seem determined to make sport of me.”

  Dungr’s gaze shifted to the box, his expression darkening. “Do you have any idea whose remains you’re carrying?”

  Rugr hesitated, studying his brother’s face. “I know it’s a woman. A mother,” he said carefully.

  Dungr exhaled, running a hand across his jaw. “You carry Margo,” he said, at last, the name heavy with reverence and sorrow.

  Margo. The name was unfamiliar, but Rugr rolled it over in his mind, feeling its weight.

  “She is the daughter of Gaineth and Lilith,” Dungr continued, his voice quieter now. “She left the sanctuary over two decades ago, searching for her lost child—a girl, taken from the sanctuary only days after her birth.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The words struck Rugr like a hammer, and new pieces fell into place. He leaned back, his mind racing. Kleo is the daughter of Margo and the granddaughter of Gaineth and Lilith. This was yet another complication. Kleo had been born to a prominent family—a family with great influence.

  Rugr wondered if his brother suspected the connection between Margo and Kleo. It was unlikely that Dungr would be aware of the nature of the magic that allowed Margo to persist in this state. Rugr trusted his brother completely but was still hesitant to reveal everything. Not knowing the correct thing to say, he chose the direct approach.

  Pointing at the box, he said, “The body still lives.”

  Dungr froze mid-motion, his hand stopping above the fire. His eyes darted to the box, then back to Rugr, wild disbelief etched into his features.

  “How?” Dungr’s whispered. “That’s not possible.”

  “A powerful spell,” Rugr said. “Kull magic.”

  Dungr’s disbelieving gaze returned to the box, his hands flexing as though grasping for understanding. Rugr pressed on. “The box is sealed twice—first by an original spell, and when we recovered it, a second sealing spell to protect it. The second seal can only be undone by the caster.”

  Dungr’s voice trembled. “Who cast it?”

  Rugr smiled, his tone deliberately casual. “Her daughter.”

  Dungr braced his hands in the sand, his mind reeling as he struggled to steady himself. Margo was alive—a miracle beyond comprehension—and her daughter lived and had been with Rugr when they recovered the box. The revelations felt inconceivable, like the fates' tainted hands were playing cruel games. Whether their mischief spelled fortune or doom, Dungr knew from bitter experience that the fates usually preferred the latter.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

  “Take your time,” Rugr said, his tone patient. “It’s a lot to take in.”

  Dungr exhaled, dragging his thoughts into order. “So this girl you spoke of in Balta… she’s Margo’s daughter? How can you be sure?”

  “She told me herself,” Rugr replied. “She’s connected to her mother somehow. They communicate—through magic, dreams—or something else. Don’t ask me to explain it.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration leaking into his voice. “It’s beyond me.”

  “And how do you know she’s telling the truth?” Dungr pressed. “What do you know about her?”

  Rugr’s frustration flashed into anger, his voice rising. “I raised her. She’s no liar.”

  The sharpness of his words hung in the air. Both brothers turned toward the crevice entrance. If they had overheard, the guards outside gave no indication.

  “She appeared in Astiria as an infant,” Rugr continued, his tone softer but no less firm. “Under the care of Markus and Nima, though care is a generous term. They had little interest in providing for her needs, so they put her under my protection and tutelage. She’s been with me since she was no more than two years.”

  Rugr added. “She calls me father and—I call her daughter. It is a recent development that I am still getting used to.”

  Dungr shook his head, disbelief warring with acceptance. “Where is she?”

  Rugr let out a low chuckle, some tension bleeding from his face. “If I had to guess? She’s busy putting her foot up the ass of the queen of a spider nest.”

  Dungr gave a low whistle. “The Spider Queen. So you’re saying we’ll probably never see her again.”

  Rugr chuckled again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps. I wouldn’t underestimate her. She’s resourceful—more than most. And she’s bonded with a human—together, they’re powerful. Her Kadas Shadoom drives her forward; she wouldn’t have left the box unless it was absolutely necessary.”

  Dungr considered this, his brows knitting. “Margo's daughter would be twenty-three by now. How old is this girl?”

  “Twenty-three,” Rugr said, meeting his brother’s eyes. “Almost.”

  Dungr narrowed his eyes. “Then why is she experiencing her Kadas Shadoom now?”

  “Good question.” Rugr’s tone was grim. “Our best guess is Barto. He must have found a way to suppress it. That’s the theory, anyway. It arrived around the same time we recovered the box.”

  Dungr stood, pacing near the fire. “Well, brother, you’d best get your story straight,” he muttered, his voice laced with unease. “I’ll lead you to the sanctuary tonight. Gaineth and Lilith need to hear this. You’re not just bringing Margo’s living remains—you’ve also brought their granddaughter. That may be something that Gaineth values even more.”

  Rugr’s expression darkened. He knew what his brother wasn’t saying. Gaineth would value another thing Rugr carried: the key to Astiria. If he played his cards wrong, holding that knowledge could cost him his life. With Kleo’s protection spell in place, Gaineth would be forced to wait for Kleo to arrive, so until then, all the pieces would remain on the board. When she reached the sanctuary, the actual game would begin. He would need to do his best to diffuse whatever situation they were heading into.

  Dungr’s gaze shifted to Thespis, still asleep by the fire. “Wake the boy. We leave as soon as you’re ready.”

  Rugr nodded, his face unreadable. “Then let’s not waste time.”