The palace throne room was a large, ostentatiously decorated open hall designed to amplify every sound within. Any words spoken from the throne reverberated throughout the chamber, bouncing between the arched ceiling high above, the polished stone floor and the painted murals carved into the walls. Unfortunately, the same bare stone amplified his approach so that every step sounded more like a stack of bricks being introduced to the floor one at a time than a person hurrying to meet an appointment.

  Michael burst through the door behind the high dais for the throne, panting, and took stock of the room. It was largely empty, as was expected for this early on a day when no hearing was scheduled. The main floor was void of benches, as was often the case; Michael wasn't terribly fond of the lavishly formal throne room and preferred to avoid it outside of special occasions.

  The Saerim of Kether waited by the throne, observing the play of morning light on the colourful ceiling overhead with novel interest. Michael did not recognise the man; he had never before seen a reason to learn the inner workings of Kether's court. As Michael noisily skidded to a stop, caught off guard by the visitor's proximity to the door he had chosen and abruptly aware that he had not taken the time to change out of his training uniform, the foreign Saerim turned to face him with a spark of sharp interest in his silver eyes.

  A lifetime of training fell on him in an instant and Michael straightened. He walked the distance to the throne at a deliberate, unhurried pace. "Thank you for your patience. I trust you've found your visit to Hod to be agreeable thus far?"

  "I have, my Prince. It has been most enlightening," said the Saerim, a sleek, dark-haired man dressed in sensible travel garb who bowed as Michael approached. "I am Saerim Uriel of Kether. I believe this is the first we've directly met, but I know a great deal about you, courtesy of the Most High."

  "The King speaks of me often?" Michael asked, his voice casual despite the tightness in his throat.

  "His desires for your success are well known among the court at Kether," said Saerim Uriel.

  Michael heard the polite avoidance of the question quite plainly and did not push for clarification.

  "Presently," Saerim Uriel continued, "the King desires for you to excel in your title and has sent me as an envoy of this wish. I am to relay His words to you, then return to the King with what will no doubt be a glowing report of your progress." He sent a pointed look at the empty throne and inclined his head ever so slightly to imply that perhaps Michael ought to have a seat.

  Gritting his teeth and hoping his face did not betray his emotions, Michael sat. He would have preferred to remain standing, but he was under no illusions that this was anything other than an evaluation. What he would prefer was in no way a meaningful factor. "Before we begin, allow me to introduce my Regent, Saerim Remiel. He will, of course, be joining us for all discussions pertaining to the governance of Hod." Michael waved a hand for Remiel to step forward from where he hovered just out of sight in the hallway.

  Remiel peeked around the doorframe, the question of whether he was needed now plain on his face. Michael jerked his chin emphatically at the spot to the left of the throne. Drawing his oft-used information pad from his pocket to have at the ready, Remiel hurried forward to take his place beside his Aeon, his shoulders squared and demeanour professional despite the tussled training uniform he sported.

  "Of course, as one would expect," said Saerim Uriel. His sharp silver eyes took note of the similar outfits they wore and their mutually dishevelled appearances. "It would appear I've caught you at an inopportune time. Have I interrupted a matter of great importance?"

  "What could be more important than an envoy from Most High?" Michael asked. With Remiel next to the throne, the pressing feeling of isolation and inescapable scrutiny that had been smothering him eased significantly. He could think more clearly now that he wasn't alone. "What message has the King sent for me?"

  "The King wishes to convey His confidence that you will spread the success achieved by Hod to the other Spheres," Saerim Uriel said.

  Michael perked up at the choice of words; he recognised the fine art of delivering a compliment without giving any direct praise for fear of inspiring conceit.

  "To that end, Most High has expressed that you shall be granted independence for the time being to further your own goals, with the sole exception that your primary focus must be on organising the construction of the beacons," said Saerim Uriel. He gestured to call forward a silent attendant from the lower portion of the room.

  A girl carrying an ornate golden box stepped forward. Her eyes were lowered demurely even without the customary veil worn in Kether as she held the box up for Saerim Uriel to open; either the girl was much stronger than she looked or the box was made of a lighter metal than he thought. From inside the box, Saerim Uriel withdrew a flat, oval crystal the size of his palm that sparkled with fleeting shimmers of golden light - a mirror gem, much like the one containing an image of Hod Michael had left with the King. Saerim Uriel placed the gem in the flat of his palm and traced a quick pattern on its surface with his fingertips.

  An image sprung from the surface of the gem, the golden sparks within solidifying as a fully realised picture hovering midair over the gem. It showed a thin, towering spire topped with a white flame. Michael leaned forward in his seat to get a better look, fascinated; architecture and city design had never been his forte, but he could tell right away that the plans called for a massive construction effort. By tapping on the surface of the gem, Saerim Uriel highlighted various aspects of the projected beacon as he spoke.

  "The King has specified that every detail of the beacons are to be built precisely according to His design across every Sphere," Saerim Uriel said. "All the required information is contained within the image for your reference, including instructions for placement. Each Sphere will be required to build no more and no fewer than ten beacons surrounding their Sephirah. Once more it must be stressed that no alterations to the plans will be tolerated. Once completed, the beacons will safely channel a net of power from the Sephirah Kether to the lower Spheres, tying you together with direct aether from the Infinite Source Itself."

  "Ten of these beacons surrounding the Sephirah on each Sphere?" Michael repeated before he could stop himself. "If I'm interpreting these plans correctly, the scale of these beacons looks to be considerable. Organising ten of them at once will be quite the undertaking for any Sphere, much less all of them working in tandem."

  "Then it will be a good thing indeed that they have such a capable leader unifying their efforts, wouldn't you agree?" Saerim Uriel waved his hand over the gem to dismiss the image before returning it to its box. He gave Michael a keen glance. "It is entirely your prerogative as to how you approach the matter, by order of Most High, but a clever Prince might consider using the beacons as an opportunity to gather the other Aeons under his name. You now possess information they need - information directly from the King that is key to protecting their Spheres from a dire threat. Perhaps this is the opportunity a clever Prince would use to convince the other Aeons that he will be a just ruler with their best interests at heart."

  They were suggesting a show of power. The King had sent him everything he would need to solidify his appointment. Michael leaned back in the throne, doing his level best not to fidget. "Thank you, Saerim Uriel. I will make good use of this."

  "I expect you will, my Prince, as does the King," Saerim Uriel said blithely. "I look forward to watching your progress; Most High has decreed that I contact you regularly to take your reports."

  "I won't be reporting to the King?" Michael asked. He couldn't decide if he was disappointed or relieved.

  "On occasion, certainly, but Most High is too vital to be bothered with the mundane reports of steady, incremental progress," said Saerim Uriel, not unkindly. "Not even the day-to-day running of Kether deserves the King's ear much of the time, as I am sure is the case between you and your own Regent."

  Remiel pressed his lips together into a thin line but did not speak.

  "Of course," Michael said, his voice carefully neutral. "It will be good to work with you in the future, Saerim Uriel."

  "If one may excuse the informality," Saerim Uriel said, neither his posture nor his tone changing in the slightest as he watched Michael's reaction closely, "I would like to say that I took the assignment with a certain degree of eagerness. After having studied the Golden Legend so closely, I was most curious to meet you in person."

  This time Remiel could not contain his reaction, stiffening and glancing at Michael in alarm, but he was quick to downplay it by flipping to a new page in his information pad as if what he had read had been what caused the reaction. No one in the room believed it for an instant, but they largely ignored him. Michael took a deep breath, now glad he was seated to cover his abrupt dizziness.

  "I see," he said with surprising detachment. "Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

  "Yes. The King has sent a symbol of your position as Prince that He wishes you to wear," Saerim Uriel said, not missing a beat. He drew a golden metal pin bearing the emblem of the Crown from the box and showed it to Michael - a literal badge of office. "He has requested you wear this as a symbol of His authority. Perhaps you will find it useful to remind the other Aeons of your position."

  "I'll see to it that the King's trust is well placed," said Michael with a wane smile.

  "I have every confidence that you will. Most High has demonstrated tremendous faith in your abilities," said Saerim Uriel. He returned the badge to the box and shut the lid.

  Never raising her head, his assistant stepped forward and offered the box to Remiel. Remiel pocketed his information pad with a disgruntled sigh and accepted the box. Michael did not miss his soft grunt of surprise at its weight; the girl must be stronger than she appeared, then. Either that or Remiel had gone soft in his routine.

  "Most High wishes for you to bear in mind at all times that His hopes rest on your shoulders," Saerim Uriel said, crossing his arms behind his back. "He has tasked you with aligning the Spheres to the greater Will of the Source. To quote His words, their unity under one banner may be the only defence against a repeat of the Shattering. The King would not choose such words lightly."

  "I assure you, I know," said Michael.

  Saerim Uriel smiled in a way that proclaimed he was all too aware of the impact the message carried as he bowed once again.

  "If there is nothing else, one of the palace staff will show you to the guest quarters," Michael said. An imaginary fog clouded his head, causing his voice to echo strangely in his own ears.

  "Thank you, my Prince, but I will not be staying," said Saerim Uriel. "I have other duties in Kether which require my attention. With your leave, I would return to the Crown with my report - along with any messages you may wish to relay to Most High."

  Michael had many messages he wished to relay to Most High, but none of them seemed appropriate to send through a messenger. Many of them refused to fully form in his mind. After so long apart, his first meeting with his father in over a lifetime had been brief and entirely business-oriented. He had no idea where to begin. "Tell the King that I will ensure these beacons are built according to design. The safety of the Spheres is my top priority. I will see to it that His plans are realised."

  "I will tell Him," Saerim Uriel promised. "Your Highness, it has been an honour to make your acquaintance. If at any time you should require my assistance, I am at your disposal. I look forward to serving with you."

  "It is my hope that we will work together favourably," Michael said, nodding. "You are dismissed, Saerim Uriel."

  They waited in perfect stillness until Saerim Uriel left the throne room. They waited a few moments long to be certain he was out of earshot and the acoustics of the room would not inadvertently carry their words to him. Once they were comfortable that enough time had passed that he would not overhear them, Michael leapt from the throne and began to pace about the dais and Remiel slouched forward with a loud sigh.

  "Must we now concern ourselves with the threat of unannounced visits from the Crown?" Remiel complained. He shifted his grip on the heavy box he held with anxious energy. "Do you expect he'll visit often? Cripes, this thing is an unnecessarily heavy method of transporting two very small objects."

  "No, I doubt we'll see much of him. This was an examination, and an obvious one, at that. They wanted to see how we would react," Michael said, still pacing.

  "For an examiner, he didn't seem particularly conscientious of the fact that he was speaking to the Aeon of Hod." Remiel glared at the door the foreign Saerim had left from.

  "No doubt that was part of the test." Michael sighed. He motioned for Remiel to hold the box steady and eased the lid open, stealing a peek at the two items inside. The mirror gem containing the beacon blueprint would require in-depth investigation soon, but the badge was an immediate issue.

  He lifted the badge from its velvet cushion, enthralled by the golden emblem of the Crown as he turned it this way and that in his hand to study it. A faintly glowing sigil was carved into the metal on the back of the badge. It was not a seal he recognised, though sections of the design were vaguely reminiscent of the sigils carved into his sword. On a hunch, he pressed the flat of his palm against the seal and concentrated; instead of melting the badge into an unsalvageable sludge of molten metal, his power was harmlessly absorbed by the sigil with no ill effect. Michael spared a thought to be grateful that his hunch had been correct; it would have been unspeakably unpleasant to have to chase down Saerim Uriel to request another badge mere moments after having been entrusted with this one - even as hot shame coiled in his gut at the implication of the King's foresight. Despite Michael's best efforts, Most High was aware of his lack of control and had taken steps to correct the problem.

  A whispered echo of Aeon Raphael's observation of his problem after the impromptu kindling she had witnessed floated to the back of his mind. 'How embarrassing,' she had surmised. Michael shook his head and forced the thought from his mind before it could take root too deeply, shoving it into the dark corner he stuffed every unwelcome mention of the Golden Legend and pinned the badge to the front of his uniform. His fingers trembled as he fastened it in place.

  It felt as if a part of himself fell away as he donned the emblem of the Crown, felt as if he had become someone else entirely. He was no longer Michael, the Aeon of Hod, he was the Prince of Lower Yetzirah recognised by the King Himself to pursue the Will of the Source. He exhaled slowly as he resigned himself to this fact. With his surrender, much of the anxiety that had been building up since the arrival of the Paths melted away. A detached calmness settled over him, muffling the sounds he heard and muting the colours of the world around him. His thoughts slowed, and the constant fear that he was poised to destroy something he loved by accident faded. He might have called it peace had he been able to muster up the enthusiasm to consider it such.

  "Michael?" he heard Remiel call to him, concern lacing his voice. "Are you feeling well, my Aeon?"

  Michael looked up. Ten of his Saerim stared back at him, the entire group gathered around the table where they routinely made their morning reports, save for the ever-absent Ephriel who never left the Archives. They were in the study attached to the main wing of the palace with the gem containing the image of the King's beacons placed in the centre of the table. It took Michael a moment to recall meeting with them this morning as they did every day. The entire morning had flown by in a blur; he barely remembered the time between leaving the throne room and now.

  "Er, yes," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I apologise. I must be more distracted by the day's events than I realised. Please, continue."

  His Saerim exchanged worried glances between themselves and Remiel narrowed his eyes in open suspicion, but no one called him out on his lack of focus. After a beat, they picked up where they had left off.

  "The image left by the Saerim of Kether provides all the information we could need to organise the construction of these beacons," said Saerim Ciel. Her attention flicked rapidly between the projection from the gem and an array of information pads spread before her. She wrote across several of them at once as if they were one continuous surface rather than multiple independent ones. "In fact, they were remarkably detailed with their requirements. Nothing has been left unaccounted for. They require these beacons to be built within a very narrow radius around the Sephirah, forming a ring outside of the Paths. For Hod, that puts them safely within the forest. That makes our preparation work somewhat easier in that we won't have to relocate any pre-existing structures, but… To build ten of these at once is a massive undertaking. We'll need to pause all other projects to focus our efforts if we are to have all ten of these finished within a reasonable timeframe."

  "These beacons have been ordered by the King to protect our Sphere," said Saerim Mahariel. "Until they are complete and we are certain the threat has passed, they must be our only priority."

  "That's easy enough to say, but the reality is a bit more complicated," Ciel said. "Even if we suspend all major new constructions like the Sanctuary, we were in the process of several major infrastructure overhauls. Particularly following the panic of the 'evacuation' during the arrival of the Paths, dropping some of those projects cold would hamper our city's ability to function."

  "There's also the slight issue that we have no way of transmitting the blueprints to the other Spheres," Ananel said. "At least, not using our current equipment. While the signals have cleared considerably since the advent of the Paths, the network was not designed to send or receive nonverbal data and I think we can all see the folly of trying to verbally describe these plans. I've some ideas on how to upgrade our system, but for now, the only option is to deliver copies to the other Spheres in person." She perked up at the idea, clearly having been anticipating suggesting it. "Perhaps we could arrange a meeting here in Hod, call the other Aeons to visit us to discuss the endeavour. It would be a wonderful opportunity for everyone to get to know one another as well."

  Someone else responded, but Michael tuned them out. His gaze wandered to the window. It was so bright outside. The sort of weather the others often referred to as 'warm'. To him, it just seemed brighter than normal.

  "Michael," Remiel hissed at him.

  Jolting upright, Michael blinked sheepishly in surprise at the reminder. By now, Saerim Umahel was frowning intently at him, dressed in his healer's uniform even in spite of the splint on his broken wrist.

  "My Aeon, have you eaten this morning?" Umahel asked.

  It took Michael a moment to gather his answer; he didn't actually remember eating, but the taste of sweetbread still lingered on his tongue. He vaguely recalled waffling over whether or not he had sent the correct message to the King while he picked at his breakfast, so he supposed he must have. "Yes, I have. Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine, truly. It's merely that... this is a great deal for me to adjust to. I'll do better in the future."

  "I would suggest you get some rest, my Aeon," said Umahel with a sympathetic smile, "but we both know that wouldn't do much good."

  "I'll be certain to take some time for myself once we've sorted out what to do about these beacons," Michael said, waving a hand dismissively. "Let's not dance around the subject further: I have no desire to strut about and flaunt my power over the other Spheres while hiding behind the King's judgement to justify my actions. Setting up a display which forces the other Aeons to dance to my whims right away establishes a very negative foundation for our working relationship that I would prefer to avoid. There is no need to screech about our dominance right away."

  "My Aeon, what we are suggesting is less about, er, 'establishing dominance' as it is about seeing a healthy relationship built between the Spheres as early as possible," Ananel said delicately. "It has already become a matter of hot debate as to how our daeva should interact with those of the other Spheres. I am certain there is much to be said between the twelve of us on the issue, but would it not be wise to involve the other Aeons in the discussion on what we wish to accomplish? These beacons seem to me to present a marvellous opportunity to initiate a vital conversation. We could even turn it into a party, a celebration of the fact that we now possess the means to interact so directly with one another."

  "There must be some gravitas to the occasion," protested Mahariel softly. "Concern for the emotional balance of the other Spheres aside, it must be made clear that the King's decision to appoint the Prince will be enforced."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "And it will be, but the idea of a grand celebration holds merit," said the blue-eyed and honey-haired Saerim Valeriel, tapping her fingers rhythmically on the table as she considered her notes. "If given adequate time to prepare, we could host an event that would place the Prince before the other Aeons in a non-threatening display, illustrate the merit of Hod while praising the values of the other Spheres, and deliver the plans for the beacons while also opening the discussion of our relations policy all at once. It is worth considering, at any rate."

  They looked to him to see his reaction. Michael could envision the manner of 'celebration' they had in mind; he imagined the luxurious fineries draped across every surface, the stuffy, confining outfits that made it difficult to move, the hushed whispers and giggles of polite conversation overlaying the lilting, playful music, and the hundreds of eyes following his every move, waiting and watching for the inevitable faux pas he was sure to make, scrutinising his every movement like vultures circling a dying animal. His Saerim were watching him now, waiting for his approval for what they considered to be a clever plan.

  "I would prefer," Michael said slowly, "not to make too formal an ordeal out of this."

  "You needn't worry, my Aeon," Valeriel soothed him. "With your approval, we will gladly handle the majority of the preparations so that you may focus your attentions where they are needed most."

  "Before we begin discussing what such a gathering of the Aeons may require, first I believe we must establish what will be said to our own daeva," Ananel said. "The people have been blessedly patient and well-tempered in the face of recent events – they responded quite well to the kindling held prior to your departure. It was a good plan, my Aeon. I believe now, however, a direct statement is necessary. I could have the preparations ready for your statement before evening."

  Michael barely heard her, staring at the drawn curtains blocking his view of the world outside. He nodded once in distracted approval.

  "If necessary, my Aeon, I could prepare a script for you as well?" Ananel offered hesitantly, her brow pinched with worry. She had once prepared scripts for Michael quite frequently, long ago, but had fallen out of the habit quite some time back when it became obvious he never followed them.

  "It's in your hands, Ananel. I trust you to do a good job," Michael mumbled. The concerned expression on her face – on all of their faces – troubled him. He felt he ought to say something to ease their concern, to convince them without question that he was merely a bit tired and would soon be back to his normal, clear-headed self, but the words would not come to him. He merely nodded once more, doing his best to appear earnest and relaxed. He doubted it did much of anything to convince them of his well-being, but the effort had been made.

  They fell into a quiet discussion amongst themselves over the mundane needs of the day, leaving the topic of the other Spheres and their new Prince alone for the moment, perhaps deciding to give him some space to himself in hopes he would perk up on his own. Michael took the chance to observe them in motion, completely detached as he was from their discussion. When he had learned the summons to Kether would cost him a two-day absence from Hod, a small, unspoken part of him had been concerned they would be unable to keep things running smoothly without him, despite his largely genuine assurances to them that they would be fine. Hod was his Sphere, after all, built from his soul; surely his involvement was imperative to its smooth functioning. He saw now that his Saerim were more than capable of functioning on their own with or without his constant interference. He wanted to feel proud of them. He wanted to feel obsolete and unnecessary. Instead, he felt nothing.

  Remiel was studying him intently, his dark eyes narrowed as he watched Michael's face. When he saw that he had gained his Aeon's attention, he leaned forward in his chair. "My Aeon, if I may, there's something I am unclear on," he said, looking torn on whether or not to speak. "Both the Aeon of Yesod and the King Himself equated the outcome of this vision with the Shattering of the Golden Legend. Do you also believe the threat to be so dire?"

  Michael flinched, his gaze flicking to the ceiling, the walls, anywhere but at the faces watching him. He had taken it for granted that Remiel would not discuss the Shattering, not now and not so casually. "I cannot speak for Aeon Gabriel or what she may have foreseen in her vision, but the King would not relate it to the Golden Legend without good cause. If Most High believes them to be equivalent, then they are equivalent."

  "If that is the case, then perhaps it would be wise to speak with the Aeon of Yesod about her vision directly," Remiel said, frowning. "She spoke in vague terms to the King out of respect for His time, but if there are further details that could help us learn more, we should pursue them."

  "The King has sent us plans for these beacons to prevent her vision. You said so yourself, that will be enough. There will not be a second Shattering," Michael said, as much for his own benefit as anyone else's.

  "Still, though, surely it would be wise to consult with her. Even if there is nothing more to be said about this vision of darkness – and I still have plenty of questions regarding it – surely it would also be beneficial to have the favour of someone who can glimpse the future."

  "I don't know that it will be possible for me to win her favour now," Michael said with a grimace, remembering again the scent of her flesh burning before the Aeon of Geburah had forcefully – and rightfully – separated their hands. "I wouldn't blame her for turning me away."

  "What happened was an accident," Remiel said. "From what you described, it sounded as if the other Aeons understood that, the Aeon of Yesod most of all. I am certain that if you speak to her as the Prince, she will be more than willing to answer your questions regarding her gift. She's called here several times in the past due to visions relating to Hod, isn't that correct?"

  "The last was roughly one hundred thousand seasons ago," Ananel confirmed after quickly checking her records. "It was related to a crop failure in the outer districts due to an irrigation error. Thanks to her forewarning, we were able to redirect resources as needed and no true impact was seen in the numbers for the season."

  "She doesn't seem the unreasonable sort," Remiel said, shrugging. "At the very least, it will allow you to make amends. I would suggest prioritising speaking with her, my Aeon."

  "As you say," Michael nodded, his gaze returning to the curtained windows as he crossed his arms over his chest. His stomach squirmed and fluttered at the thought of facing her again, of meeting her ice-blue gaze and trying to explain himself as she saw through the very core of his being. He wondered what he could possibly say to her, never mind the fact that facing her as the new Prince terrified him.

  He found his mind wandering to the repeated mentioning of the Shattering. Aeon Gabriel surely couldn't understand what she was referencing. The dark thought rose to the front of his mind, completely unbidden, that if there was to be another Shattering, he would die while doing everything in his power to prevent it. He would not be left standing alone amid the ruins of the world. The edges of his vision dimmed and his hands clenched at the thought, crumpling the script he held.

  Michael scowled, realising he had allowed his emotions to run away from him once again, and eased his grip, doing his best to smooth out the papers on his thigh. It was a lost cause, the text of the script having been wrinkled to complete illegibility, but he supposed that made very little difference now that it had served its purpose. He now stood in one of the larger auditoriums in the central communications building after having delivered a successful public announcement. Ananel had devised a script which addressed many of the daeva's fears while avoiding the stickier issues for which they did not yet have answers, and Michael had adhered to the script without issue or complication. His role concluded for the time being, Michael wandered through the crowd of technicians swarming around the broadcast equipment to find a quieter place to attempt to gather his thoughts. He continued fiddling with the ruined papers with no real goal or ambition in mind as he went, trying to pinpoint what was bothering him. The papers, though destroyed, had not been so much as charred. Frowning, Michael came to a halt.

  Remiel was standing in the doorway before him, his arms crossed and an unhappy glower on his face. Ananel hovered by Remiel's elbow, her warm eyes heavy with concern as she watched Michael.

  Michael stared at them a moment, not understanding their reactions. Was there something wrong with his clothes? He self-consciously checked the front of his shirt and what he could see of the back of his pants, but everything looked normal. He didn't think he'd sat in anything embarrassing and nothing had spontaneously combusted. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

  "You followed the script word-for-word, my Aeon," Ananel said. She tried to offer an encouraging grin, but it was a watery version of her ordinary brilliance.

  "Then what's the problem?"

  "The 'problem' is that you followed the script," Remiel said.

  "How is that a problem?" Michael asked, annoyed. "Is the intended purpose of a script not to follow it?"

  "My Aeon, you've been in a daze all day," said Ananel. "You hardly seem yourself."

  Michael shrugged one shoulder dismissively. "I've been preoccupied, I admit, but I fail to see how that constitutes a major problem. Is there something I ought to have done today but haven't?"

  "You've performed every task we've set for you today admirably, my Aeon."

  "Then there's no problem, is there?"

  "No, my Aeon, there is not," Ananel said, lowering her gaze to the floor.

  Michael wanted to slap himself. They were only expressing concern for his well-being. He supposed he had been somewhat out-of-sorts since returning from Kether. It wasn't right to worry them unjustly; if he insisted on having his childish moods, the least he could do was have his moods in private where they couldn't upset anyone else. He needed to say something to reassure them, something clever and light-hearted to convince them that he'd be fine once he got over this initial tantrum. The problem was that nothing came to mind. He forced himself to smile anyway, spreading his hands in a hopeless shrug. "Oh, Ananel, you know me. I would think you'd be grateful that I'd finally learned after all this time to take the easy route every so often."

  "I'd be grateful if it felt like a conscious choice on your part, my Aeon, rather than a mere symptom of something deeper," Ananel said gently, but her smile showed her relief at his light answer.

  Remiel did not seem so easily pacified, squinting suspiciously at Michael and pressing his lips into a thin line, but he did not press the issue presently.

  "Well, let's not lose any more light. What else is on the docket for the day?" Michael asked, hoping to distract Remiel with work.

  Sighing, Remiel drew his trusty information pad to check. "We covered most of the necessities during the morning meeting. It's a relatively slow day; you've got a bit of reading and paperwork waiting for you tonight, I suspect, but little else."

  "How exhilarating," Michael deadpanned.

  "There is one matter I thought might catch your interest, however. A daeva in the capital has petitioned the central Nursery for custody of one of the Source-born children."

  Michael perked up at the news. "Oh? It's been quite some time since that's happened. I'm assuming Armisael has already approved of the match?"

  "The Nursery sent all the approval paperwork last night," Remiel nodded, passing his information pad to Michael. "Their investigations indicate that the petitioner is well-respected on a local level and will be able to provide a stable environment for the child."

  "And I also assume you've verified these findings?"

  "I ran a cursory investigation myself before meeting with you for training this morning," said Remiel. "It was nothing intensive, but there appeared no reason to investigate deeper. The petitioner is a logistics coordinator for non-perishable resources between the capital and the outer districts. He's fostered twenty-one apprentices to date, all of whom have passed with reasonable marks and appear well-adjusted. He is not courting or bonded, but his coworkers describe him as personable and easily engaged. He was the one who initially delivered the child to the Nursery; evidently, he witnessed the child spark nearby his residence and he took it to be a sign from the Source."

  "How old is the child?" Michael asked.

  "Nearly four seasons. The petitioner has been a regular presence in the child's life this entire time. The petition indicated that it was, in fact, the Nursery staff who suggested he petition for custody. I can see no reason to deny it. They need only your authorisation to proceed."

  "The standard twelve-season probation period will still apply," Michael said. He flipped to the end of the report and signed the sigil representing his name with a slight flourish before passing the information pad back to its rightful owner. "Standard attendance to the Nursery's seasonal classes is also required. Beyond that, if Armisael approves, I wish them the best. Please send my regards along with the paperwork."

  "I'll select the flowers myself, my Aeon," said Remiel flatly, rolling his eyes.

  "Remiel, please. The occasion clearly calls for something yellow," Michael suggested helpfully.

  "I'll bear that in mind, my Aeon. If I may be so bold, I would now suggest you make use of the communications centre's equipment to contact the Aeon of Yesod, if you're feeling inclined to do so." Remiel raised an eyebrow at him pointedly. "Unless you would prefer to assist Saerim Valeriel in planning this gala the beacon-sharing ceremony has turned into."

  Michael cringed, rocking back on his heels. He didn't recall precisely how they had settled on hosting a gala in the palace, merely that, at some point during the morning meeting, the suggestion that they host a gathering of the Spheres had ballooned far beyond his control. It wasn't too late to call the whole affair off if he truly desired, but he had nothing to suggest in its place and so was trying to keep his displeasure with the idea to himself. Knowing he was doing a very poor job of it, he wanted to avoid involvement in the matter for as long as possible. Not that he particularly wanted to speak with the Aeon of Yesod at the moment, either; he pictured himself as if he were a small child being corned into a choice between a disliked chore and an early bedtime. He reminded himself that his discomfort was irrelevant; if it was for the betterment of Hod, then he would swallow his complaints and do as was needed.

  Still, he wasn't prepared to surrender without a touch of defiance. "Do you expect she'll have had a vision regarding the proper seating arrangements?"

  "I expect you'll feel better once you come to terms with what happened," Remiel said solemnly.

  "You always know just what to say," muttered Michael. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh of resignment. "Very well, I will speak with Aeon Gabriel. Ananel, can you direct me to an empty room?"

  He followed her in silence through the winding halls of the centre, already lost in thought once more as he struggled to think of what he would say to his fellow Aeon when he faced her. How could he even begin to make amends for what he had done? He denied Ananel's offer of assistance – he could work the equipment just fine on his own – and, after saying a distracted farewell to his Saerim for the time being, shut the door behind himself and considered the waiting communications console in uncomfortable anticipation of the task that lay before him. He thought of dozens of possible ways the conversation could go, most of them decidedly unpleasant, and dismissed dozens more potential lines and possible ways of opening the conversation. None of them seemed adequate.

  With a sudden lurch of awareness, Michael realised he had been standing in a dark and empty room in complete stillness for far too long. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his fuzzy mind and grateful that Remiel was not there to see him, he settled down at the console, berated himself for a coward and keyed in the sequence to contact Yesod.

  He had anticipated a bit of a wait before speaking with Aeon Gabriel; he had expected to reach someone in Yesod's communication department who would alert one of her Saerim who would eventually summon Gabriel herself. He had not anticipated this process would take particularly long, but he had expected enough of a wait to give himself a last-moment opportunity to gather his wits. He had not, however, expected his call to be accepted within heartbeats of his entering the contact sequence, nor did he expect the Aeon of Yesod herself to be the one to answer, yet there she was.

  The display screen built into the wall above the console flickered to life with the image of Aeon Gabriel of Yesod. She was resplendent in her silver and blue silk garments, her long, dark hair twisted up in a delicate bun atop her head, and a fine touch of red accented the line of her upper lip. Her ice blue eyes were alight with a brightness that may have been amusement, though her posture was poised, proper and distant, betraying nothing of what she thought of his appearance. "Michael, Aeon of Hod, the Word of Glory and son of the King of Aeons," Gabriel greeted softly, her voice carrying the lilting ease of a peaceful river. "You honour me with your call, Prince of Lower Yetzirah."

  Every line he had planned vanished from his mind. Michael stammered, his thoughts scattered and disorganised as he struggled to recall the proper greeting required for such an occasion. "Gabriel, Aeon of Yesod, the Word of Foundation and Base of Yetzirah, I apologise for my failure to articulate properly, you've caught me on the back foot."

  "Forgive me if I am mistaken, but I was under the impression that you were the one who initiated this call," Gabriel said, her eyes twinkling even as her face remained stoic.

  "Er, yes. I did, indeed, though I was prepared to wait for your presence. Forgive me, have I interrupted something?"

  "You seem surprised that I was expecting your call," said Gabriel, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "Is it so implausible that I, of all people, was prepared for such an occurrence?"

  He was oddly flustered at the notion. "You had a vision that I would contact you?"

  "Not a vision, as such as it were, more of a pressing intuition that I would be needed at the communications building," Gabriel clarified. "Such moments of insight have served me well in the past. I am pleased to see this trend continue. Is there something you need to consult with me over?"

  "Yes, you could say that," Michael said. A dozen half-formed ways of leading into the subject flickered through his mind. Unable to focus on any one thought long enough to bring it to fruition, he pushed them all away and decided he might as well take the direct approach. "I would like to begin by apologising once more for your injury before the council in Kether. I can offer no excuses that would justify my failure, but I wish to make amends for the damages you have suffered."

  "I suffered nought but the indignity of my fall, and for that, I do not blame you," said Gabriel.

  Michael was confused by her response. "Have your hands recovered so quickly?"

  She held up her hands, showing her palms towards the screen. The skin where she had been burned was shiny and fresh but whole. "I am not so easily damaged that a slight burn is enough to reduce me to an inconsolable mess, Aeon Michael. Had it been a moment of true importance, I would have foreseen that it would happen."

  "I am... immensely relieved to learn this," Michael said. A great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, one he hadn't even realised he had been bearing. "Even so, I consider it a failure on my end and wish to do what I must to convey the sincerity of my regret. If there is anything you need that I may assist with, please speak it and I will make it so."

  "My only request, my Prince, is that every effort be made to prevent the darkness I foresaw from gaining a foothold within the Spheres. I cannot emphasize enough how dire the price of failure at this task will be," said Gabriel. She looked away from him for the first time since the connection had been established, her clear blue eyes clouding over as her gaze dropped to the floor. Did thoughts of her more troubling visions intrude on her daily life to weigh on her mind as his own fears did to him? The idea troubled Michael a great deal, though he resolved not to draw attention to it; goodness knows he was well enough aware of his own shortcomings without anyone else pointing out his frequent distractions. He doubted Gabriel needed to be reminded of her concerns any more than he did. In short order, she shook herself from her reverie and returned her attention to their conversation. "If you can assure me that the matter will be given its due concern, I will consider all debts between us even."

  "I swear to you I will do everything in my power to prevent the destruction you predicted," Michael said, frowning. He had every intention of keeping his word on this matter. "I wouldn't need an agreement with you to motivate me to protect the Spheres, but since that is what you wish, I can safely promise that it will be done. To that end, you may be interested in knowing that the King has sent me the plans for the beacons He spoke of during the council. We intend to reveal the plans shortly." He swallowed thickly before adding, "Our present thought is to host a gala, an opportunity to celebrate the union of the Spheres while also discussing what must be done to defend them."

  Gabriel tilted her chin up, excitement clear in her eyes even as she did her best to keep her expression neutral. "An announcement gala? How long will it take to plan such an event?"

  It was all he could do to keep from cringing at the question. Michael didn't know much about planning galas beyond the fact that they needed to portray an adequate air of gaudiness, nor was he in any way keen to be involved in planning this one. "It is too early for me to tell you the details just yet, but I can assure you that not only is the team working on it quite efficient and enthusiastic, we understand that time is of the essence. Ensuring that everyone has access to the knowledge necessary to construct these beacons is my top priority and is being handled with the utmost care. The delay is necessary to give us a chance to establish a few basic guidelines for future interactions between Spheres that we can all agree to. The gala will provide a platform for the open discussion as to what those guidelines will be." Steeling his nerves, he decided to gamble and reveal more than perhaps he really ought to. "I will be truthful and admit I feel a touch of reluctance at the thought of hosting such an event; I worry it borders on wasteful and self-indulgent to summon the other Aeons for a gala, of all things when there are other, more pressing matters to be concerning ourselves with."

  "I think it is a fine idea, so long as we do not lose sight of the importance of the beacons," Gabriel said. "There was precious little time to speak during the council in Kether; if I was not able to portray the urgency of my vision to the others then, this gala will provide a second chance to do so. I look forward to it."

  His heart fluttered in his chest at her approval even as a sickly sense of dread settled in his stomach at the knowledge that he would have to live up to her expectations. There would be no calling off the gala now that he had told Gabriel about it. "I'll keep you informed on the details as they emerge, Aeon Gabriel."

  "Aeon Michael, if I may be so bold to ask, when you spoke with the King, did you have the opportunity to speak to Him more about what we discussed?" Gabriel asked. "I suspect that I was not able to adequately explain myself in the face of His presence."

  Michael stared at her. It took him a moment to piece together what she was asking, and even then, he wasn't certain he had it right. He felt a wave of frustration towards himself at how slow he was today; he was ordinarily much faster at putting together a coherent thought. Wasn't he? It frightened him to think he might always be this listless and disjointed and only just now noticing. "My conversation with the King was brief and almost exclusively pertained to the title of Prince, I'm sorry to say."

  "Oh!" Gabriel raised her hand to her lips in embarrassment. "Of course, I am certain Most High trusts you to handle the matter appropriately. I never meant to imply otherwise. Forgive me, with such a focus on the future, at times I lose track of what to say in the present."

  "I may not share your gift for foresight, but I can relate to your difficulties with the present," Michael assured her, his heart warming at her confession. "Today of all days, in particular, it seems. I took no offence to your question."

  "Have you had the opportunity to speak with Aeon Raphael since Kether?" Gabriel asked. "Do you know if her condition has changed?"

  This question again caused Michael to hesitate before answering, though for somewhat different reasons. He wanted to believe that Raphael had come to him as an act of trust, and it felt like a betrayal of that trust to share her moment of weakness with Gabriel. Beyond that, he found he desperately did not want Gabriel to learn that Raphael had been in his bedchambers the night before."We've not spoken in any official capacity. She contacted me in the aftermath of the council to assess her standing. She approached me in confidence and I wish to honour that sentiment, but I can say that her condition appeared unchanged from what we saw in Kether."

  "I see," Gabriel said, her brow creasing in a thoughtful frown. "Would I be correct in presuming that her memory has not returned?"

  "It may not ever return," Michael said with a light shrug. "There may not be any memories there to recover. Then again, she may drastically improve once she's had a chance to rest. Very little time has passed since her manifestation. It's easy for us to forget what it was like after so many seasons, but I don't recall it being an easy change for me. Give her some time to adjust before pressing her for answers."

  "Yes, of course, there is always that possibility," Gabriel mused. "Nonetheless, I would like to speak with her about it during this gala of yours. Perhaps I will be able to assist in unlocking what memories she may have. If she has any knowledge that may aid us in understanding and combating the darkness I foresaw, it is imperative that we make every effort to uncover it." She blinked, her bright eyes focusing on his face once more, and she folded her hands in her lap serenely. "It was good to speak with you once more, Aeon Michael, but I have other duties to attend to today. I would ask your permission to take my leave, if there is nothing else?"

  "No, thank you, that will be all," Michael said. "Whether by vision or intuition, I am grateful we were able to have this time to talk today. You'll likely hear from me again as things develop, if it pleases you."

  "It would please me," Gabriel said. A soft glow of embarrassment tickled her cheeks, cracking at the aloof front she presented. As if realising her control was slipping, she leaned forward to cut the connection. "Farewell for now, Aeon Michael."

  The screen went blank before he had a chance to respond. As he stared at the empty space where her image had been moments before, Michael suddenly became aware of the fact that he had not turned on any of the lights in the room before initiating the transmission. He thought he ought to get up to turn them on. He didn't move from his seat.

  Alone in the darkened room, Michael dropped his head into his hands and wondered if he had the fortitude to face whatever would come next.