The group paused, staring at the ransacked room.
Dhalia shook her head in quiet disbelief. "This is the capital of the Zuni empire. Kra'lor City… the Black Pearl."
Legendary figures had walked here. Evil, yes—but powerful. Archmages. Legion Commanders. Names like Tyrant Bex and Terror. Maybe no one from the Allied Realms had ever stood in this room before.
Cane frowned, his mind already turning. "Fergis, you said these portals are all powered from here? What kind of source would that need?"
"Primal soul gem. Something ancient. Nearly infinite."
Cane nodded once. "Think you can overload it?"
Fergis blinked. "Overload? Yeah, I could reroute power back to the source, but that'd destroy the portal. With something this strong, the explosion would level this entire building."
"Exactly my thinking."
Fergis blew out a breath. "Damn... really?" He hurried to the portal marked for Archmage Lago. "This one's drawing the most juice. Give me a minute."
Cane waited. Seconds stretched like rope. How long had it been since Terror fell? Five minutes?
Clara looked around, wide-eyed. "Where are the guards?"
"Outside," Cane said. "That door and these walls are covered in runes. There's probably a full regiment in this building."
Dhalia gave a thin smile. "Probably gonna lose their jobs."
"Got it!" Fergis called. "We gotta move—now!"
They vanished from the dark council chamber.
—
Cane stepped off the rune, his breath immediately visible in the cold air. A small cavern. Not what they expected.
Runes lit the space in soft hues. There was only one exit: a thick iron door barred from the inside with a steel beam.
Clara blinked. "Barred from inside? Why bother?"
"Probably had an artifact on him," Cane said. "One that let him port directly here."
Fergis moved forward, gripping the beam and lifting it free with a grunt. He pulled on the iron ring. "Locked. And runed."
Cane pressed his good hand to the surface, easing the enchantments aside. The door parted at the midpoint, opening just enough for someone to slip through.
"Let's go."
The narrow passage beyond led into... fire.
Fergis stepped ahead, unbothered. "It's wood. Fireplace."
Cane grimaced, clutching his injured arm. "Put it out, please."
Dhalia raised a hand, and a stream of water doused the flames. Smoke billowed upward.
A voice shouted, muffled and confused, "What the hell—?"
Cane stepped forward, entering a large stone-walled living area.
A maid stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted in shock.
"Don't be alarmed," Cane said. "I'm Sir Cane Ironheart, with the Allied Realm."
Her posture straightened instantly. "C-Cane Ironheart?" She dropped into a bow. "Greetings, Sir!"
Cane offered a tired smile. "This is Vesh, correct? Who's in charge here?"
"Yes, Sir. Commander Urik governs while the council chooses a new candidate from the House of Lords."
"I see." Cane's voice stayed calm. "Is Commander Urik here? I'd like to speak with him."
Commander Urik entered flanked by a full contingent of knights, clearly skeptical. The maid's tale of the realm-famous Cane Ironheart stepping out of a fireplace had not inspired full confidence.
Cane offered a respectful bow and held out the badge he'd received upon knighting. "Commander. I'm Cane. This is my team—we're returning from a mission sponsored by the Magi Academy."
Urik accepted the badge, his brow furrowing as he examined the embedded runes. The moment they pulsed in recognition, his demeanor shifted.
"Returning from where?" he asked, handing it back.
"The Western Front," Cane said, sliding the badge into his pocket. "Via Kra'lor."
Urik stiffened. "Kra'lor?" Awe and dread warred in his expression. The capital city of the Zuni Empire—never breached, never seen by most of the Allied Realm. "They're sending cadets into Kra'lor now?"
Cane scratched the back of his head. "Yeah… that part wasn't exactly planned. Bit of an issue with our exit strategy. We ended up in the council chambers and used Tyrant Bex's old portal to jump straight here."
Urik's eyes widened. "There's a portal from this castle to the Zuni council chambers?"
Cane nodded toward the fireplace. "Sliding door behind the hearth. Leads down a passage to a second door. We overloaded the soul gem before we left—it should be disabled. But you'll want to check."
"Yes… right away." Urik's posture straightened. The tone of his voice changed completely. "Sir Ironheart—what do you need from us?"
"I need a message sent to the capital. Let them know we need extraction."
—
Far away, in the Archmage's office at the Academy, Telamon sat with his senior staff. Ignatius was still on deployment, training the new fire companies near the Neutral Zone, but Brammel and Selene Morvus were present as Telamon reviewed updated protocols for Gryphon travel and naval operations aboard the Star.
Then he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes drifting toward some unseen point in space.
Without warning, he vanished—dragging both professors with him in a single sharp twist of reality.
"Heavens," Brammel muttered as they reappeared, floating a mile above the Academy spires. He held his hat with one hand and squinted at the view. "A little warning next time?"
Selene, as ever, looked unbothered. "Something wrong?"
Telamon's eyes narrowed. "I left a mark inside the Zuni council chamber years ago—an anchor rune, in case they violated the Accord. It just vanished."
Brammel frowned. "Could an Archmage have scrubbed it? Lago, perhaps?"
"No," Telamon said flatly. "The building is gone."
He scanned the horizon in silence, mind racing. No answer made sense.
An eyeblink later, they returned to Telamon's office.
"Archmage!" Telamon's assistant burst in. "Direct message from King Hellion."
Telamon lifted a hand and drew a slow rune in the air. The room shimmered, and an image of the King appeared—frazzled, impatient, the noise of arguing lords bleeding through the background of his chamber.
"Did you do it?" the King asked, without greeting.
"Did I destroy the Zuni Empire's council building?" Telamon replied, deadpan. "No. That would violate the Accord."
Hellion blinked. "Council building? What are you talking about?"
Telamon's eyes narrowed. "The Zuni council chambers in Kra'lor. Just now. Obliterated. What news were you calling with?"
The King's expression flickered. "Wait—what? Destroyed? When? Who?"
"All good questions," Telamon said calmly. "Now, what were you saying?"
"Legion Commander Terror has been killed. On the Western Front."
"MY LAD!" Brammel exploded, shooting to his feet with both arms raised. He froze mid-victory cheer when all three turned to stare at him. The dwarf cleared his throat and quickly sat back down. "I mean… Cane's team. They were inside Terror's camp…"
"What is it?" King Hellion turned as someone entered his chambers. The messenger spoke in hushed tones for a moment, then disappeared.
Telamon and his staff were still processing the news of Terror's death.
"Cane Ironheart has sent word," the King said, his brow furrowed. "He's in Vesh. Needs extraction."
Telamon's eyes sharpened. He wasn't sure how all the pieces fit yet, but the implication was clear—Cane might have been the one who killed Terror.
"Vesh?" Telamon echoed. "Tyrant Bex's old fortress?"
His mind moved quickly, connecting fragments. His last visit to those dark council chambers had revealed the presence of private portals—a major security risk in his eyes.
"I see," Telamon said. "I'll get to the bottom of it. You'll have a full brief within the hour."
The King's image vanished.
Brammel whooped the moment it faded. "Can I go too? I gotta hear this firsthand."
Selene nodded, composed. "I would like to go as well."
Telamon opened a rift near his desk. "Then let's go."
—
The team sat around a long table, a veritable feast laid out before them. Clara ate with both hands, laughing uproariously at nothing in particular, like she'd pranked the world and gotten away with it. Fergis and Dhalia sat nearby, speaking in hushed tones, their eyes flicking occasionally to Cane's arm—thin, withered, and pale.
"ARCHMAGE!" a voice from the next room cried out in alarm.
Moments later, the double doors slammed open. The senior staff from the Magi Academy entered.
"Oh no," Selene murmured, rushing to Cane's side. Her hands hovered just above his arm, sensing.
Telamon swept the room with his gaze. The others were healthy. Good. He focused on Cane.
"What do you think, Selene?"
Her brow furrowed. "It seems impossible, but… his limb is aged. The decay of centuries, maybe more."
Telamon relaxed. "I was worried it was dark corruption. But this… this is just aging."
Selene didn't look convinced. "Aged or not, this is the arm of a young man. I don't know how to treat it. It's not diseased, not injured."
Telamon rested a hand on Cane's shoulder. "Don't worry, nephew. We'll sort it out."
—
A few minutes later, Cane sat shirtless at the table while Telamon carefully traced runes up his left arm with a silver quill. The marks began at the withered fingertips, winding upward to the elbow where Telamon drew a rune anchor.
Fergis hovered, eyes sharp, firing off questions. Dhalia joined him, quietly naming the bones and muscles the runes traced.
Telamon answered Fergis's questions with patient precision, each answer designed to provoke another question.
He brought out a soul gem. It pulsed with stored energy as he bound it to the rune anchor, then continued inscribing runes up Cane's bicep and toward the shoulder.
"Why go past the withered area?" Fergis asked, gesturing to Dhalia, who began sketching notes.
"You're only seeing the obvious," Telamon said. "The aging runs higher—just less severe. It stops at the shoulder. Roughly a few decades displaced."
He smiled as he worked. "Now then. Tell me about the mission."
Cane nodded. "I held the team in the ringworld. Dhalia exited briefly to deal with the watcher ravens. Then I shifted to Jonas's side, held the shackle and tether steady until I could throw him into stasis."
"Well done," Telamon said. "I'll deal with him once we're back at the Academy. Then?"
Cane exhaled. "We had agreed beforehand—Terror had to die. After everything he's done—what he did to my mentor—that darkness couldn't be left unchecked."
Brammel slammed the table. "Damn right! One death ain't enough for that bastard."
Telamon didn't interrupt. "How did you deal with him?"
"We rushed in. Hit him from five angles. Fergis with balefire. Clara hit him with her blunderbuss. Dhalia covered the camp in fog. I went in with a sword… and Cold Iron."
Telamon's eyes fell to the black ring on Cane's skeletal fingers. "How?"
"I figured he had resistance to blades. High protection against magic. But time… time can't be resisted. I drove my ringworld hand into his ribs—and accelerated it."