《Ashes Unwritten: Oblivion's Heir [Epic Fantasy | Light Progression | FMC]》


 Prologue: Sisters in Shadow

    ¡°They¡¯ll come for you too, you know,¡± Reina said. ¡°Just like they did for her.¡±


    From the comfort of her recliner, Rae peered through a curtain of crackling Fulminant energy that cascaded across her sister¡¯s face. Dark tendrils of Rae¡¯s own lightning did little to hide the way her sister¡¯s brow knit together in the dim light. It was a rare therapy parlor that let you use your own Fulminancy at all¡ªRae had taken weeks to find this one. As a self-service parlor, the wizened man at the front would leave you to relax with your own Fulminancy and company. No questions asked, no Fulminancy besides your own. Rae liked it that way¡ªit meant fewer people to overhear delicate conversations.


    There were more of those these days, unfortunately.


    Rae leaned back, trying to reclaim the relaxation she¡¯d just lost. ¡°Maybe they will,¡± she said, closing her eyes to better feel the warmth and prickling twinge of the Fulminancy as it relaxed her muscles. ¡°Not particularly worried about it, though. When they do, I¡¯ll be ready.¡±


    ¡°Ready for what, Rae?¡± Reina snapped. The chair creaked as she sat up, and Rae opened her eyes to find her sister¡¯s light, ashy blond hair so much like her own disheveled as it came out from the tie. She narrowed her eyes at Rae. ¡°Do you not think they¡¯ve dealt with people like you before? Do you not think that in hundreds of years they haven¡¯t had a rogue Seat? Clouds above, they had one not ten years ago now¡ªMariel¡¯s Seat¡ªand now where is she?¡±


    ¡°Dead,¡± Rae said, folding her arms. Or she wishes she was.


    ¡°And that doesn¡¯t bother you?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll find another Seat.¡±


    ¡°Rae,¡± Reina said, softer now. The low hum of Fulminancy filled the space where the words died on her tongue, and Rae found the entire process a little less relaxing with her sister nagging her. Reina leaned forward, gaze intense. ¡°Whoever she was, she had friends and family, or at least someone who cared about her. She¡¯s not just a Seat¡ªyou¡¯re not just a Seat. Where does the power end and the person begin, Rae?¡±


    That did give Rae pause. That crackling well of power sat nestled deep within her gut, and had for as long as she could remember. A single whisper of thought brought the slumbering beast to life in a tingle that zinged throughout her body, giving her strength, speed, and even relaxation if she wielded it right. Maybe there was life without Fulminancy, but if there was, Rae couldn¡¯t remember it. It would outlast them both, as it had outlasted their parents. It was as inescapable as the cycle of wet, dry, and lightning-filled tempests that rolled through Hillcrest without fail each year.


    Rae fiddled with a loose thread on the chair. ¡°Power and people are the same, Reina,¡± she finally replied. ¡°One uses the other. Seat or not, she was foolish to get involved with the Council in the first place.¡±


    ¡°I doubt she had a choice.¡±


    ¡°We all have a choice.¡±


    Her sister flopped back into her chair and bored a hole into the wall with her gaze. ¡°I don¡¯t recall getting a choice about this parlor,¡± she groused. ¡°They¡¯re dangerous, Rae¡ªespecially with your Fulminancy. I¡¯ll admit that your control is excellent, but it¡¯s like trying to control a Lightstorm¡ªyou¡¯re bound to slip, eventually.¡±


    ¡°Unlike our esteemed Mariel, I actually practice with mine.¡±


    ¡°Which is why I¡¯m so worried.¡± Rae rolled her eyes clean to the ceiling, but Reina continued, undaunted. ¡°They¡¯ll find us if you keep using them. I don¡¯t know how, but they¡¯ll find a way. Clouds, Mariel didn¡¯t even want to use hers and they still killed her. What will they do about a woman flying around the city hiding from them?¡±


    Reina shook her head, gaze solemn as she stared at a collection of heated rocks in the hearth that were accompanied by someone¡¯s oddly orange-tinted Fulminancy. Funeral rocks, Rae thought immediately. She shook her head. Not all rocks were reserved for funerals, just as not all gifted Fulminant were destined to be used by the Council.


    ¡°Whatever they did with Mariel was wrong, Rae,¡± Reina continued quietly. ¡°There were rumors that she was blackmailed or coerced with her family. What¡¯s stopping them from doing the same with us?¡±


    Rae pulled her feet up to her chest, watching the rocks pop in the hearth. ¡°There¡¯s a crater around the palace,¡± she said. ¡°She probably just snapped.¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°And killed her family at the same time?¡± Rae didn¡¯t have an answer for that. Her sister tapped a finger against her cheek, thinking. ¡°There¡¯s more to this. Something else happened, Rae, and I don¡¯t want it happening to you. We need to be more careful¡ªno more of these trips, even if you swear by Fanas and Faleas that the owners look the other way.¡±


    ¡°I hardly think that the Council is going to be looking for a lost Seat in a parlor of all places.¡±


    ¡°Do you think it matters to them where they look?¡± Reina asked. She shook her head, arms folded. ¡°We¡¯re getting too complacent. We¡¯re too relaxed.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re good at what we do, Reina,¡± Rae argued. ¡°We¡¯re good at disappearing¡ªbecoming someone else. What lead could they possibly have on us?¡±


    ¡°That two women continually disappear into the night, then reappear elsewhere. We¡¯re leaving a trail, whether we realize it or not. The Council is well connected and wealthy, and Hillcrest isn¡¯t that big. We need to change jobs more often, and we can¡¯t frequent the same places anymore.¡±


    Rae scowled at that, but her sister had a point. Patterns were damning. But Rae liked patterns. She enjoyed the little life she¡¯d cobbled together with her sister, hopping from one place to another. Doing so, however, was draining, and there was something to be said for getting comfortable and staying put for a while. They¡¯d done it with the last several jobs now; the last one had taken them almost three years to divest themselves of. Comfort was tempting, but it was dangerous. At least Rae maintained solid control over her powers¡ªother Fulminancers had more difficulty remaining hidden, given Fulminancy¡¯s tendency to explode in untrained hands.


    She sighed, trying to recapture the fleeting calm of a moment now lost to her sister¡¯s worries. ¡°Fine,¡± she finally said. ¡°Fanas knows your gut is usually right about these kinds of things. We¡¯ll be more careful, Reina.¡±


    Some of the tension left her sister¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, smiling. ¡°We¡¯ll get through this, Rae. Somehow.¡±


    Rae smiled back at her sister, though her thoughts soured. Reina was a thin, anemic light in the darkness of a life spent running, hiding, and constantly moving. There were only so many places they could go in Hillcrest, and only so many ways to reinvent themselves. And underneath it all, who was Rae? A coward, for running? Some sort of revolutionary for keeping her power out of the Council¡¯s hands? Or just a woman, trying and failing to live a normal life?


    Reina insisted that Rae¡¯s powers didn¡¯t define her, but how could Rae think otherwise, with the entire stormsick city blasting the opposite message from every rooftop? Fulminancers rose to the top of Hillcrest¡¯s bloody fighting rings, where the very best lived a life of wealth and ease. Hillcrest¡¯s only university was partial to any research done by Fulminancers¡ªDuds need not apply. Even the sashes around their waists were greatly enhanced by Fulminancy, giving the wearer access to better shops, bakeries, and fighting rings. Her sister¡¯s words were those of an idealist, but most importantly, they were the words of a woman wishing fervently that her sister had been born normal.


    It doesn¡¯t really matter, she thought. We can be whatever we need to be, together. Her sister would keep her anchored to who she was¡ªshe¡¯d always done so.


    Silence descended over the parlor until a particularly grotesque sound gurgled from Rae¡¯s gut. She gave a little apologetic shrug to Reina, and she laughed.


    ¡°It¡¯s only been a few hours,¡± she said, grinning.


    ¡°Using Fulminancy makes me hungry.¡±


    ¡°The parlor was your idea.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Rae said. ¡°I have another. Those pastries we tried last week? Those were the best clouding things I¡¯ve ever had in my life. I¡¯ve got to learn how to make them. They can have my Seat if they teach me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll want it,¡± Reina said with a giggle. ¡°But living as bakers for a few months is one of the best ideas you¡¯ve ever had.¡±


    ¡°Well, there was that time we sold snacks in that Uphill ring.¡±


    ¡°That was only good until one of the Fulminant fighters nearly gave me a lightning-shaped tattoo.¡±


    Rae winced at the memory and reached for a drink nearly empty by now. ¡°Not my best idea,¡± she said. ¡°But I never thought the Fulminancy would reach that high.¡± The mountain ice clinked slightly in the glass as she raised it towards her sister, smiling. Reina raised her own back.


    ¡°To more adventures,¡± Reina said.


    ¡°To less nonsense,¡± Rae replied.


    Reina laughed and sipped her glass.


    A tendril of Fulminancy snapped viciously, and Rae frowned, her drink halfway to her lips. There was something off about that sound¡ªlike the otherworldly crack of ice on a frozen lake. She hadn¡¯t felt her own Fulminancy change, so where¡ª


    A high-pitched sort of preening squealed through the air. A searing heat. A whump of air. The sound disappeared from the room, and heat and fire blossomed in a wave that threw Rae from her chair. Instinctively, she threw up her Fulminancy around her in a cocoon, but it did little to dull the pain as her back slammed through the glass window at the front of the shop.


    Rae tumbled through piles of glass shards in the street, the shock of the icy rain just barely enough to return her to her senses. A blazing light lit the streets where there should have been none¡ªfire, consuming the building before her. Gasping, swearing, each piece of glass a tiny knife in her hands and back, Rae scrambled back towards the shop with one thought in her mind.


    Reina.

 Prologue: Parlor and Parlay

    A plume of dark, cloying smoke streamed from the window, and Rae scrambled towards it, her feet skidding over the stones as she drew to a stop in front of the shattered shop. She was about to throw herself back through the window when Fulminancy¡ªno longer her own, but a piercing white variety¡ªflared, snapped, and blossomed into another explosion that forced her back. Rae shielded her face, the heat raking claws over her skin, then gritted her teeth, bringing Fulminancy to life in her legs.


    Maybe normal people would stand here and watch while their sister burned alive, but Rae was a Fulminancer, and she¡¯d find a way. Fulminancy might not shield her from the heat or smoke, but it might make her quick enough to save her sister.


    The parlor erupted again, sending another plume of ash, smoke, and heat into the dark sky. Rain and blood mingled together on her clothes as others tumbled out of the parlor, panicked and screaming. Rae pushed past them, fighting to see into the chaos. Besides the window, there was only one way out of the room they¡¯d been in, and even through the smoke Rae could see that the doorway had collapsed into a pile of rubble. Smoke churned out of the window and Rae took a deep breath, feeling Fulminancy gather in her boots.


    She took a single step towards the window.


    Something caught her¡ªan arm. Rae moved to brush it off, but she felt her Fulminancy dim, that power ebbing from a gushing river into the dribble of a freshly dammed stream.


    Her gut churned, and white-hot fear prickled up her arm.


    She¡¯d never once felt her Fulminancy leave.


    What in Fanas¡¯s name?


    The arm tugged her away from the smoke and into a crowd of men and women wearing the blue jackets of Witchblades¡ªFulminant enforcers for the Council and city. Rae paled and tried to tug her way out of the man¡¯s grip, but the buzz of several Fulminant swords stopped her. She froze as that crackling energy so much like her illuminated the wet street around her, and one rested close enough to her face to feel the heat.


    Another man emerged from the group, well-dressed for this part of the city, wearing the blue and silver sash of the Council. He was young for a Council member¡ªperhaps no older than forty, though Rae felt like a child in comparison. Her own falsified red sash suddenly stood out like a sore thumb among all the blue and black of the city¡¯s upper crust in the group of men now surrounding her.


    He stood there, surveying the damage with a casual eye, even as Rae tried to dislodge herself of the other man¡¯s grip. Then he nodded.


    ¡°Let her go, but keep an eye on her.¡±


    The man holding Rae shrugged, but let her charge ahead.


    Please don¡¯t be too late, she thought. What would she do without Reina? Where would she go? What would she be? She didn¡¯t want to think about it. Please don¡¯t be too late. Please don¡¯t¡ª


    Rae froze again, one foot in the shop¡¯s window. Black smoke churned out around her, and the heat was nearly unbearable. Coughing, she stood there, but didn¡¯t go any further. A choked, strangled sound bubbled from her lips.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Something pale and distinctly human poked out from the burning rubble, unmoving. Rae dropped to her knees, ignoring the searing pain of the heat even as she choked shaking breaths of thick, smoky air down.


    She pushed aside the former portions of the shop, though half the pile was ablaze. She had to know. She had to see.


    She saw.


    She wished she hadn¡¯t.


    The men outside pulled her back into the rain just before another beam collapsed in the main part of the building, sending up a jet of heat, light, and smoke. None of them moved to help those trapped inside.


    Rae collapsed onto her knees in the damp street, numb, her searing burns and the rain barely registering. She kept staring at the building, expecting her sister to come trotting out, an eager smile on her face. We have more to do, she thought, watching the flames with stinging eyes. More to see. More to be, Reina. It wasn¡¯t real. None of it could be real. Fulminancy was an ally. It wouldn¡¯t, it couldn¡¯t have caused this. It was stable. Safe. Rae knew it better than her own face.


    Rae shook her head, pressing her burned hands into her eyes until she could see no more. She couldn¡¯t think those thoughts right now. If she lost Reina and Fulminancy on the same day, what would that make her?


    Boots scuffed in front of her. She opened her eyes to find the well-dressed man crouched in front of her, face strangely kind for a councilman. His eyes had bags under them, and his blond hair was mussed with rain.


    ¡°Rae, is it?¡± he asked.


    She nodded mutely. If they¡¯d found her, there was no reason to care anymore. If Reina was gone, that was even more reason not to care. The man sighed, looking uncomfortable.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss,¡± he said. ¡°Fulminancy can be¡­unstable at times. It¡¯s one of the reasons we try to regulate these parlors. Still, nothing like this should have happened. And, well, I suppose I¡¯m about to add to your misery.¡±


    Rae¡¯s eyes snapped up to his finally, some sort of animal instinct reminding her she should be fleeing from these people. But Reina¡­ ¡°What do you want?¡± she asked, voice hoarse from the smoke.


    ¡°A word,¡± he said simply. ¡°And your silence about what happened today in return for protection from the Council.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not all you want,¡± Rae said. ¡°You¡¯ll have me killed, same as Mariel.¡±


    ¡°Oh come now,¡± he said, looking amused as the rain poured down the side of his face. ¡°You and I both know that Mariel is alive and well¡ªhow long have you spent watching her? In any case, you can be too¡ªprovided you cooperate with us.¡± He paused, then glanced back at the burning wreck of the parlor. A few energetic firemasters fought the blaze with speed and efficiency¡ªthe men were probably downright bored right now during the city¡¯s rainy season. ¡°Look,¡± the man continued. ¡°Perhaps the death of a close loved one is not a great time to start a business relationship, but your sister isn¡¯t the first person to suffer from Fulminancy¡¯s instability. It¡¯s getting worse with each day, and Mariel is the key to all of this. Find her, watch her, and keep tabs on her, and we¡¯ll see that you never have to worry about losing your powers to us.¡± He paused, then twisted his mouth into a wry little smile. ¡°Consider them on loan, I suppose¡ªsemi-permanently.¡±


    ¡°And if I refuse?¡± Rae asked. She was hollow. Wrung out.


    The man smiled pleasantly. ¡°I don¡¯t think you will. You love your Fulminancy, don¡¯t you?¡± He let a few tendrils of his own crackle into his hands, and Rae couldn¡¯t help but watch, captivated, though she quickly tore her gaze away. He winked, then snuffed it out and patted her on the shoulder. ¡°I know I do.¡±


    His fine boot crunched over an ornate chunk of glass¡ªa piece of the glass she¡¯d held only moments before. Rae knelt in the sodden streets, her only company the chunk of glass as it settled into her bloodied and blistered hand, heavy and final.


    Rae stared at the raw pink of her palm, and her Fulminancy flickered back to life, a calming, soothing presence against the pain and emptiness. She wrapped herself in a cocoon of crackling gray energy, and stared, shivering, at the smoke as it twined up to join its fellows in the stormy sky.

 Chapter 1: Witchblades

    Kestril of Silverhill, most decorated fighter in the lower city, sat in jail for the second time that week and listened to the guards invoke a name of a god she knew didn¡¯t exist.


    ¡°Mariel¡¯s storm, is it really happening?¡± a thin guard asked quietly from just outside of her cell. He was younger than Kess¡ªbarely into his twenties, and his wide eyes and sandy brown hair were an odd contrast with his much older and much rounder companion¡¯s features. ¡°At this rate, Forgebrand might drag the Uphill into it. I don¡¯t fancy myself a soldier.¡±


    Kess squirmed on the dirty floor, trying to loosen tight muscles. She had no right to complain¡ªshe¡¯d put herself here on purpose¡ªbut the cells in Whitering were too small, even for Kess. Still, better than dealing with the Fulminant in an Uphill prison.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine¡ªyou barely know which way to point the stick. No one would bother recruiting you,¡± the round guard replied. ¡°Besides, Forgebrand is just a hobby. Not everyone wants to get beaten to a pulp in the arenas for fun. Gotta have something else to entertain you. Not everything you hear is real.¡±


    ¡°About as real as Mariel,¡± Kess muttered from next to the door. The younger guard jumped, and Kess smiled.


    The older guard poked at Kess with his spear, though the touch was downright friendly compared to some rings she¡¯d fought in lately. ¡°Clouds, woman, don¡¯t you have anything better to do than to scare a man out of his wits?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in a jail cell,¡± Kess said. ¡°So no, not exactly.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t blaspheme like that,¡± the younger guard said, fidgeting awkwardly with his spear. ¡°We ought to haul you up for a word with Forgebrand¡ªthey respect Mariel, at least.¡±


    Kess snorted, thinking of how the men in Draven¡¯s tavern whispered about the woman, like she was something out of legend. They respected her a little too much, by Kess¡¯s estimation.


    She leaned her head back against the wall. ¡°Surely Forgebrand has better accommodations than a Whitering cell.¡±


    There was a pause from the men. Doubt? Uncertainty?


    ¡°Lass, Whitering might not be the nicest district in the city, but at least you¡¯re alive,¡± the young guard said, his voice careful. ¡°Uphill they¡¯d have you beaten for fighting outside the rings, then executed for blasphemy against Mariel.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to blaspheme against someone that doesn¡¯t exist,¡± Kess said, her voice lilting.


    ¡°Stop interacting with her,¡± the older man hissed. ¡°She¡¯s touched in the head. She¡¯ll poison your mind.¡±


    Maybe she was. It had been a long time since her decisions made sense, and an even longer time since she¡¯d felt the need to justify them to anyone else. Though I will have to explain why I botched that last fight to Mattes, she thought, wincing.


    Kess got to her feet, dusted off her clothes¡ªstill bloody in places from her previous fight¡ªand leaned against the bars. Thunder rumbled overhead, and the guards jumped again, the younger one pointing his spear at her.


    ¡°Am I really that terrifying?¡± she demanded, gripping the bars. She was strong and lithe, but not big, and she was also unarmed. The religious man just shook his head, lowering his spear.


    ¡°Bloodcrawlers like you give me the creeps, lass.¡± The other guard winced a little at the term.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with fighting for a living?¡± she asked calmly. She nodded towards the man¡¯s spear. ¡°Certainly it¡¯s part of your profession too.¡±


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°Aye lass, but it¡¯s not the fighting that gets me¡ªit¡¯s the losing on purpose. Who does that?¡±


    ¡°Stormsick women with a taste for abuse,¡± the other man spat. Kess just smiled at him. ¡°You¡¯d have to be stormsick to be as good as she is and not want the fame and Fulminancy with it.¡± He paused and eyed her red sash tied around her waist, now bloodied and dirty. It was a higher rank than Kess preferred, but she hadn¡¯t had the chance to throw enough matches to lower her rank. As it was, her red sash drew too much attention Downhill¡ªher guards were an entire two ranks below her with their orange and white sashes. This man would fall over if he knew my actual rank, she thought. ¡°You could be at least red-white sash by now, or clouds, woman, you could be Fulminant. Those colors are a rank all their own¡ªoutside the law.¡±


    ¡°That seems like a fundamentally flawed system to me,¡± she replied. Her fingers tightened around the bars of her cell, and another low roll of thunder passed overhead. The guard snorted, leaning against the wall with his spear to watch her. They were used to Kess¡¯s too-frequent visits, sometimes verging on friendly with her.


    ¡°She has an odd way of talking, don¡¯t you think, Ren?¡± Ren¡ªthe younger guard¡ªpeered at Kess, then shrugged.


    ¡°Maybe. Just sounds different¡ªlike the folks Uphill, almost. I have to admit, though, she does well for being a Dud¡ªor that¡¯s what the rumor mills say, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s a Dud Downhill.¡±


    ¡°Not my cousin,¡± Ren replied. ¡°He blew years ago. Mariel bless him. Got a nice house and family Uphill now. Didn¡¯t your niece¡­?¡±


    Ren trailed off, and the older man¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°She did well for a while,¡± he replied quietly. ¡°Got Uphill and all that fame went away. Turned out she barely had enough Fulminancy to defend herself. They sent her home, but she hasn¡¯t been the same.¡± His eyes met Kess¡¯s where she stood in the doorway. ¡°Maybe you¡¯d be the same, lass, but you have a lot more talent than my niece did. I see a girl who would benefit greatly from not being thrown into a jail cell every few nights. Though I suppose you could accomplish that on your own if you stuck to rings instead of alleyways.¡±


    Kess frowned at him for a moment, her eyes darting back to the door, nearly visible from her cell. There was no point in escaping, not with her time nearly served, anyway. At least she¡¯d avoided the Witchblades for another night, even if her guards thought she had a temper that would put Fanas herself to shame.


    The man was right about her ability¡ªKess was too skilled for her own taste. It was a constant fight of its own just to keep her rank low enough to go unnoticed¡ªand she¡¯d nearly failed at that even with her intentional losses. Kess didn¡¯t want the fame or the Fulminancy at the top¡ªshe just wanted to survive, and avoid Fulminancy at all costs.


    Ren finally lowered his spear, sighing. He looked like a good enough sort, for all his religious fervor. ¡°Here now, lass, have you cooled down enough to come out yet?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Kess replied immediately, perking up. Her legs itched to be free. The older guard smirked slightly, hands still on his spear.


    ¡°And what if we just kept you here for a while? Would certainly give everyone Downhill a break.¡± Kess froze, eying the man.


    ¡°Mattes won¡¯t be happy,¡± she finally said. The smirk fell from his face immediately. The religious guard sighed, moving to unlock the door, though his companion kept his spear at the ready. Kess just raised an eyebrow at him as the door opened with a creak. He gestured with his spear.


    ¡°Give it a few nights,¡± he said, sounding resigned. ¡°They don¡¯t pay us like the Witchblades.¡± Kess barely spared the men another glance as she jogged to the exit. Maybe spending the night in jail wasn¡¯t the classiest of things, but she¡¯d avoided the Witchblades, and Lead deserved to be put on the ground, anyway.


    Kess stepped out into a dingy street in the Whitering district, one of the poorest parts of Hillcrest. Rain threatened, as it always did, but didn¡¯t fall. Thick clouds spread overhead, and people went about their business in a tangle of shops and stalls where food, drink, and just about anything else could be found. Most were raised onto wooden walkways and stilts to avoid the seasonal flooding which would leave most Downhill streets underwater for a period of time.


    Hillcrest sprawled across the mountainside, tucked into the rock itself, each section of the city a sprawling plateau, though more often than not Kess found herself tucked inside the mountain itself, fighting in some of the darkest rings in the city. Each plateau was divided by large sets of stairs, with the homes growing wealthier and more impressive with each increasing level before the Uphill district began.


    Kess didn¡¯t miss the Uphill and its rules and regulations, but she did miss the height; stand at the edge of one of those platforms high on the mountain, and you¡¯d feel like the world simply ended with Hillcrest, swallowed by impenetrable clouds that swirled around the rock.


    Kess made her way up a level towards Dawnring but froze in a tangle of people as she spotted something on the steps.


    Witchblades.

 Chapter 2: Windblown

    Every muscle in Kess''s body tensed up as she watched the Witchblades nearby. It was an entire patrol of the clouding things, their hips sparkling with a sickly blue light as they stopped several people on their way up to Dawnring District. Several people swore and made rude gestures as they brushed past Kess, but her knees locked into place as she stared at that light.


    Someone screamed, and she smelled blood, but the street remained mundane as men and women hurried about their business. She shook her head and turned on her heel, but not before she heard a voice rise out of the chaos of the gate.


    ¡°Please, Whitering¡¯s bakeries are sold out today.¡± A brunette woman in her late thirties pled with a Witchblade, who simply stood there, expressionless. ¡°You know how they get during Drystorm season if you work down here,¡± the woman continued. ¡°My daughter¡¯s name day is today, and the bakery¡¯s just around the corner. If you could just¡ª¡°


    ¡°No entry into Dawnring today without orange sash or higher,¡± the guard said. Kess had a hard time finding any sort of humanity in a Witchblade¡¯s face, but this one almost looked bored. The woman opened her mouth to argue one more time, but the crackling lightning of Fulminancy snapped towards her, and she jumped, hurrying away from the guard.


    Kess stopped her before she could retreat into Whitering. A small boy clutched to her skirts, thumb in his mouth¡ªhe¡¯d been so small Kess hadn¡¯t even noticed him in the crowd.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the woman said, her eyes falling on the blood and dirt on Kess¡¯s outfit. ¡°What did you¡ª¡°


    Kess untied her red sash, blushing a bit at the nakedness she now felt. It wasn¡¯t quite proper to go without a sash, but the people of Downhill were practical if nothing else, and she did still have a shirt and trousers on at least.


    ¡°Take it,¡± she said, pushing it towards the woman. The woman hesitated, eyes wide¡ªher own sash was orange and white, which wouldn¡¯t allow her consistent entry into Dawnring and its shops on a daily basis. Kess shoved her sash towards the woman again. ¡°Or trade me, I don¡¯t care. The guards will let you go for a day without verifying¡ªthen you¡¯ll have to go back to your old sash. You have extras at home?¡±


    The woman nodded, and untied her own sash, though the color rose in her cheeks as well. Modesty was a luxury¡ªone that perhaps neither of them could afford. The woman handed Kess her old sash and tied Kess¡¯s dirty one around her own waist. As Kess did the same with the other sash, she found the woman¡¯s eyes brimming with tears.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°I know it doesn¡¯t sound like much, but my daughter was looking forward to this for years. I didn¡¯t realize I¡¯d already used my entry voucher earlier this week. I¡ªthank you so much.¡± She hesitated again, then gave Kess a quick hug and took her toddler into her arms to try the guards again.


    The Witchblades were irritated, but let the woman pass, and Kess felt a weight lift from her shoulders. That¡¯s two cloudspawn with one stone, she thought. Her own sash had been too high for her, anyway.


    Kess hurried back the way she¡¯d come. It would be the long route to Mattes¡¯s place, between her sudden loss in rank and her desire to avoid the Witchblades as much as possible. Hopefully she would make it in time.


    Her second route ended before it started. Several shops with multiple tiers split into two districts, the shops themselves cobbled onto the mountain rock with makeshift platforms, steps, and support struts. In Dawnring, these shops were at least reinforced against any passing Drystorms. In Whitering, they sported constant repairs and patched, rotting wood.


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Kess nearly swung into a bookshop without thinking, but stopped short at the sight of more blue uniforms. She ducked between two food carts, watching the doorway and touching her cheek idly. It still smarted, the crackling lightning-like burn from her fight last night a constant reminder of how she¡¯d been swindled. Well, she would take care of that tonight, if she could ever get to Mattes. One last job. These streets were familiar, at least, and Kess knew another way up¡ªit just wasn¡¯t one she wanted to tackle with her aching limbs.


    A boy brushed past her, and Kess recognized the blond curls of one of the street lads, Liam. She tugged at his shirt, and he opened his mouth to make a ruckus until Kess pressed a coin into his hand, shaking her head. The boy was worse than a Lightstorm, with the amount of noise and chaos he could cause.


    ¡°Kess, you¡¯re windblown,¡± he said, pulling her aside. ¡°First I get wind of you thrashing Lead, you get dumped in the drunk tank, and then you grab me like a common assassin in broad daylight.¡±


    ¡°Would an assassin grab you in broad daylight, Liam?¡± He frowned at that.


    ¡°I guess not. Anyway, I¡¯ve got errands to be about,¡± he said, drawing up to his full height. He was barely into his teens, but he already dwarfed Kess. ¡°Some stormsick rock-lover Uphill thinks we have better bakeries, and she¡¯s giving me enough coin to buy out just about every market in Bloodring¡ªin a Lightstorm, even.¡±


    ¡°We do have better bakeries,¡± Kess replied, still watching the front of the shop. The Witchblades didn¡¯t seem inclined to leave anytime soon.


    ¡°Sure, but you think I¡¯m gonna spend it on the best sweets?¡± He shook his head ruefully. ¡°Kess, you know how it is with them. They got more money than sense. So the way I see it, I find the decent bakeries and pocket the change. Rockheads don¡¯t know good food if it hit them in the head, anyway.¡±


    Kess smiled, but couldn¡¯t quite calm her thumping heart. ¡°Why are there so many Witchblades out?¡± she finally asked him. Liam studied the shop she eyed, scowling.


    ¡°Been like that since you got tossed in. Something about a search for the Seat of Mariel, whatever that is.¡± He rolled his eyes.


    ¡°But they called that search off years ago,¡± Kess said, confused. ¡°She¡¯s dead.¡± Liam shrugged.


    ¡°As dead as any Uphill cloudspawn. Those folk don¡¯t quite know how to die in my estimation. They turn up down here all the time, or so my ma says.¡±


    ¡°You would think the fighting rings would be enough for them,¡± Kess said, voice quiet. Aggressive patrols were not good news. She had enough trouble keeping a roof over her head. She didn¡¯t need to be answering to every Witchblade on the streets looking for trouble. Liam flipped her coin and caught it neatly in a pouch.


    ¡°Well, if you ask me, that¡¯s where I¡¯d hide if I were the Seventh Seat. Right in plain sight, where no one would think to look.¡± He leaned against the wall behind him, eying the shop. ¡°None of them cloudspawned Witchblades are good for us average folk, though,¡± he said darkly. He was a little serious for his age, but growing up Downhill would do that to a boy. ¡°The more that stay away, the better.¡± He winked at Kess. ¡°Anyway, I got coin to make.¡± He looked her up and down, his gaze disappointed. ¡°Will you visit my poor ma and me tonight or is it the same as always?¡±


    ¡°You know my answer, Liam.¡±


    The boy sighed dramatically. ¡°You¡¯re not that much trouble, you know. I¡¯ve nearly gotten thrown into the tank myself once before.¡± He frowned, looking up at the sky. ¡°Though ma almost killed me for it. Anyway, she just calls it having ¡®interesting company¡¯. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. And Kess?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Try to behave,¡± he said, looking too serious for his age. ¡°If not for your own mother, then for me own. She worries about you.¡±


    Kess smiled slightly and waved at the boy while he jogged off. Liam¡¯s mother hadn¡¯t even seen Kess in years, but she¡¯d gotten the boy out of a tight spot with some Fulminant patrols once. The woman was constantly trying to invite Kess to her home.


    For a brief, intense moment, Kess wondered what it would be like to have a family again. An image bubbled into her head. A warm hearth, a lavish meal, people she¡¯d once called family. The image evaporated, replaced with the dreary day and Witchblades moving about the streets like droplets that no one wanted to touch. I can¡¯t have that, she thought. Not anymore.


    She heaved a sigh and pushed off from the wall. Climbing would have to do.

 Chapter 3: Too Close to the Sun

    The climb was not pleasant. The Drystorm whipped at her clothes and threatened to tear her off the rock, but Kess made it in record time¡ªa feat she owed to a host of unpleasant practice attempts that had ended in bruises and sprains.


    Kess sat in a dingy room off to the side of a tavern ring owned by Mattes, cheek still stinging and fingers itching to snatch the bag of coins from his desk. At least part of it would be hers to claim, if Mattes honored his side of the deal. He usually did.


    Mattes himself burst into the room, shouting and musty ring air drifting in behind him. The door slammed shut, muffling bawdy laughter as Kess tucked her hand back against her ribcage. No point in looking like a thief.


    ¡°You had a little too much fun last night, Kess,¡± he said, stuffing his colossal frame into the worn chair across the desk. His ever-present scowl was there, but there was an unfamiliar pallor to his complexion. He met her eyes with an even stare. ¡°Really? You nearly win the fight, then you get into a drunken brawl not hours later. What do I pay you for?¡± he asked, reaching across to grab the bag of coins. Kess lunged for the bag, lightning quick. Mattes stared, his hand frozen just before the bag.


    ¡°She was Fulminant,¡± Kess said. ¡°That wasn¡¯t part of the deal. Do you know what will happen if you keep putting me in rings with Fulminant fighters?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be a very rich man.¡±


    ¡°You might be,¡± Kess agreed. ¡°But I¡¯ll either be dead or so infamous that you¡¯ll have to replace me, and then where will you be?¡±


    ¡°You nearly winning was not part of the deal,¡± Mattes said, his voice venomous. ¡°If you¡¯d just lose like you¡¯re supposed to, we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation.¡± He held her gaze, but didn¡¯t reach for the bag. ¡°There¡¯s a Fulminant ring tomorrow. You¡¯re on the docket,¡± he said, shuffling a few papers into order, though there was hardly a point with the desk so filthy. Kess¡¯s heart went still at the words.


    ¡°I told you I¡¯m not fighting them.¡±


    ¡°And I told you I¡¯d keep you out of their rings if you did your job,¡± he said, waving a hand to dismiss her.


    ¡°I did my job. I lost, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°You flew too close to the sun,¡± he said, moving to sign something with an abused pen. Teeth marks decorated the top. ¡°My investors in Blackhill are pissed. Everything has a price.¡±


    Kess pushed down her rising panic. She had known about Mattes¡¯s plan. Known for weeks, and yet it was still hard to steel herself for what she had to do. She took a deep breath, her ribcage smarting.


    ¡°Speaking of which,¡± she said, running her hand casually across his desk. He stopped his paper-shuffling just long enough to look up at the proprietary touch.


    ¡°Out with it,¡± he growled. Kess shrugged and decided not to waste time on niceties.


    ¡°How much are you getting paid for it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s none of your business.¡±


    ¡°It is my business,¡± she said. ¡°My debts are almost paid, and you know as well as I do that I could make a killing selling what I know about your matches.¡± Dangerous words, but Kess held his eyes as she put both arms on the table, letting her gaze fall to the papers. Kess was not a large woman, but something about her had always unnerved Mattes, and she used that now to her advantage. Mattes rewarded her with a slight bob of his throat.


    ¡°I could flay you alive right now for even threatening that,¡± he said, voice filled with steel. He could do it. He had done it with lesser fighters before. Still, Kess forged ahead.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°And lose your prize fighter for tomorrow?¡± she grinned and flopped back into the chair behind her, propping her feet up on his desk with a clink next to the bag of coins. Matte¡¯s face fell.


    ¡°I can get another.¡± The slight dodge of eye contact told her all she needed to know about the truth of that statement. Mattes was a terrible liar for a man who dealt in lies.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had a line of fighters waiting to get trounced by Fulminancers,¡± she said, inspecting her nails. ¡°If I had known the girl last night was Fulminant, you¡¯d already be looking for a new fighter.¡± She willed the anger from the earlier fight back into her voice, but Mattes was unfazed.


    ¡°I still wonder why I didn¡¯t leave you to rot in Maude¡¯s ring.¡±


    ¡°Oh come now, Mattes. I¡¯ve made you a very wealthy man.¡± That much was true. Kess was skilled enough to put on a good show, but unassuming and small enough that even the shrewd eyes of Downhill missed that her matches were fixed¡ªmost of the time, anyway. ¡°How much?¡± she asked again.


    ¡°Enough.¡± Kess held his eyes and let the smile fall from her lips.


    ¡°I want half,¡± she said simply. Deep color rose into his face, and Kess wondered if he might pop with one good prick.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get nothing,¡± he said, his tone gruff. ¡°This is payment for screwing up last night.¡± Like hell it is.


    ¡°No, you¡¯ve had this in place for a long time, Mattes. You should really clean up your desk sometime. Last time I came in to grab my coin, the fight information was right there.¡±


    A single bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. Kess didn¡¯t often pay attention to the rumbling below the surface of her skin, a raging energy that she avoided thinking about or looking too closely at, but she let some of that fire into her eyes as she held his gaze. Thunder complained overhead again as the Drystorm whipped into the building outside. Mattes paled.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you double your usual amount,¡± he said. Kess snorted, rolling her eyes at the man.


    ¡°That¡¯s not even going to cover the healing bill when I¡¯m done in the clouding ring. Half or I walk.¡± A slight smirk appeared on Mattes¡¯s face. Did I push too hard? She wondered, trying to keep her face straight. Mattes, for all his foolishness, had lived his entire life Downhill. He would know when he was being swindled.


    ¡°And where exactly are you going to walk to, as an illegal Bloodcrawler who throws matches and falsifies her sashes?¡± he sneered. ¡°How far would you make it, I wonder, before the Witchblades found their way to you? There are plenty out there already, if I recall from my business dealings this afternoon.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d certainly make it far enough to ruin your business prospects for the rest of your life,¡± Kess said. ¡°And before you think of turning me in right now,¡± Kess added, ¡°know that I have friends waiting with that same knowledge who, if I don¡¯t come back tonight, will get it into the appropriate hands.¡± A bold lie, which Kess said with as much confidence as she could muster.


    ¡°So, Mattes.¡± Kess took her boots off his desk and smiled sweetly. ¡°Half. And my debt is paid, and you¡¯ll have bought my silence for the rest of my days.¡± She placed a hand over her heart and willed some form of sincerity into her expression.


    ¡°What¡¯s to say you won¡¯t sell me out to the highest bidder?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what the half is for. I¡¯ll have no need of any money I get from turning you in, nor do I want the string of disasters that would follow me after that. And I¡¯m sure you have plenty of people waiting to spill my secrets, too.¡±


    Silence filled the dingy chamber. Thunder rumbled overhead, a constant companion.


    ¡°Half,¡± she said again. ¡°Half, and you can get yourself a more docile Bloodcrawler and wash your hands of me.¡± Mattes snorted, but Kess could see his mind working already, doing the calculations to figure out if her offer was worth it or not. Kess willed her heartbeat to still. It was a gamble. Gamble or no, Kess knew she would have to face the Fulminant fighter tomorrow. Her blood chilled, and she tunneled the thought away. Later. I¡¯ll think about that later.


    ¡°And what exactly, Kestril, will you do after that?¡± he spat her name like a curse. Something inside of her emptied at the words, but she gave Mattes a little smile and told him as much of the truth as she could muster for this man who had both abused her and sustained her for so many years.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get as far away from the Fulminant as I can,¡± she said, her voice foreign in her own ears. Mattes regarded her for a moment, head tilting as if to figure out something. Then he sighed and waved his hands, dismissing her.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have your half,¡± he said, a low growl forming in his throat as he tossed her the bag of coins. Kess caught it deftly. ¡°Just don¡¯t screw up tomorrow.¡±

 Chapter 4: Shadows and Sashes

    Kess practically ran down the dim hallway into the fading light of the evening. She passed two bored guards who watched the swirling clouds overhead and made her way down the busy street. Only when she was several blocks away did she allow herself to feel any sense of relief.


    I did it. I convinced Mattes. It was unbelievable. Kess had never been good with people, but it seemed like Fanas herself smiled on Kess that evening. She breathed deeply of the night air as she walked, the weather swirling and cloudy but with none of the dampness of a Floodstorm or the violence of a Lightstorm. Mattes was taken care of, but that left her with a distinct problem: tomorrow night she would fight a Fulminancer. If she won, it would mean her freedom. Kess didn¡¯t know what lay beyond Hillcrest, but it had to be better than this running, this hiding.


    If she lost, it would mean her life.


    She tried not to think about that part as she approached the edge of the city. It was something she was fairly good at after all these years, though tonight was not a good night for forgetting. She¡¯d have to visit Draven to let him know, but first¡ª


    "Kess?¡± Bolair¡¯s voice echoed down the stairwell where Kess climbed, though she couldn¡¯t see him yet. The city wall was several stories high, and Kess was still close to the bottom, but Bolair had a knack for hearing noises well out of range of normal human hearing. Maybe that¡¯s why he was picked for wall guard duty, she thought.


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± she called up the staircase as she climbed.


    ¡°Lot¡¯s only gone for another few minutes, so you¡¯d better hurry.¡± His voice was tinny and unnatural around the stone, and as Kess emerged from the stairwell, the lanky youth shuffled his feet a little as he stared out beyond Hillcrest.


    Kess joined him at the wall, momentarily stunned. Clouds crept away from the mountain, thick, swirling, and almost solid even as they nudged up against the city wall. There was land down there supposedly, but Kess had never seen it.


    ¡°Is there more out there?¡± she asked, voice quiet. Bolair yawned next to her, his spear leaning against a nearby wall.


    ¡°If there is, I¡¯ve never seen it,¡± he said. ¡°The clouds never clear, so you either get to watch them while wet or dry. Makes no sense to me why we watch them at all.¡±


    ¡°Hillcrest gets visitors, though,¡± Kess pointed out. There had been a few in her childhood at least, though it was a small bunch.


    ¡°Not enough to watch for them if you ask me,¡± Bolair said. His eyes settled on the horizon, where an obscured sun sank below the clouds. ¡°Anyway, you¡¯ve got maybe ten minutes before Lot¡¯s back from lunch. I¡¯d get to talking if I were you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it taken care of,¡± Kess said, unable to hide her grin. ¡°Mattes agreed to pay the full amount, so you¡¯ll have what we agreed upon¡ªand more.¡±


    Bolair said nothing, his eyes still on the horizon. The man was odd sometimes¡ªnot quiet exactly, but contemplative, and never in a rush. Kess had spoken to him perhaps a dozen times, but something felt off about him tonight.


    ¡°What?¡± she finally asked, grin falling away. He shuffled for another moment with his feet and inspected a patch of stone on the wall.


    ¡°Things have changed, Kess,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s not just about whether it¡¯s dangerous for you or me anymore. The Uphill sent out a proclamation yesterday¡ªthey want anyone without a Fulminant sash barred from leaving the city. It¡¯s too dangerous, supposedly.¡±


    He pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it on a nearby torch, puffing a cloud of smoke that joined those below. Kess shook her head, slowly.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°It¡¯s always been dangerous,¡± she said. ¡°Why would they change it now?¡±


    Bolair shrugged, drawing on the cigar again. ¡°Beats me. I don¡¯t make the rules. But that gold you promised?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Not going to be enough anymore. Smuggling you out was bad enough, but doing it right after they¡¯ve changed the rules is worse. Can¡¯t afford to lose wall guard duty.¡±


    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t even like wall guard duty,¡± Kess said, unbelieving. Bolair sighed and turned to look at her, his eyes sleepy.


    ¡°Just because I don¡¯t show enjoyment in the same way that you might doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t like it,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s quiet up here. People leave me alone¡ªuntil you came along, anyway.¡±


    He regarded her for a moment more, then puffed his cigar smoke into her face. ¡°Look, you want out? Get a Fulminant sash. Shouldn¡¯t be hard with that. Clouds, I don¡¯t think they could deny you at that point.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not Fulminant,¡± Kess said immediately. ¡°Someone would catch me with an invalid sash, even if I was lucky enough to steal one. It¡¯s not like swapping out the Dud sashes.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t suggesting that you steal,¡± he said, solemn eyes back on her. ¡°Earn one the old-fashioned way. You¡¯re good enough. You¡¯ve got that fight coming up tomorrow, right? Show her that the Downhill doesn¡¯t need Fulminancy to win.¡±


    Bolair turned back to the wall, the glow of his cigar blooming into life along with the other lights of the city. As he let out another breath, Kess tried to quell the sensation that her chances of escape were drifting away like the smoke on the breeze.


    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯ll think about it,¡± she said, then hurried away from the man. She was rewarded with another shrug as she passed him and descended into the dark stairwell below.


    What am I going to do now? She tried to keep her face straight as she gave a therapy parlor a wide berth, even as the shopkeeper tried to wave her inside, likely noting her bruises and slight limp. She swore she could feel the Fulminancy crackling within.


    Her deal with Bolair had been her only reasonable way out of the city. Normal citizens didn¡¯t leave, and Kess certainly wouldn¡¯t be chosen for any sort of diplomatic mission outside of Hillcrest. I don¡¯t even remember anyone leaving in my lifetime, she thought. A clawing, panicked sensation welled up inside of her, but she forced it aside. I¡¯ll figure out something, she thought. Something not involving a Fulminant sash.


    Kess stuck to the edge of the city, keeping to the shadows. That thing followed her as usual from the rooftops, a tiny zipping light in the corner of her vision. It was one more reason she needed to leave. She couldn¡¯t protect her brother or Draven from something like that. Clouds, she wasn¡¯t even sure she could protect herself from whatever that was.


    Tonight, however, the Shadow seemed content just to follow her, so she let it. She¡¯d tried to slip it before with no luck. Best to simply let it be, whatever it was.


    As twilight fell and the glowing amber lights of the Downhill came alive with lit fuel, Kess made her way up a set of steps set into a hillside. Here, trees grew over a series of rolling hills, and the plateau was higher than most of the lower city, though still firmly within the Dawnring. Piles of rocks decorated the ground, and Kess picked her way over the grass towards a tree at the very edge of the terrace overlooking the mountains. In the distance, a lake sparkled through the clouds, barely visible. And at her feet, two piles of small, unassuming rocks poked out from near the base of the tree.


    The Shadow crouched on a nearby building, presumably watching. Let it watch, Kess thought. There was no point in hiding what she was doing, anyway. She pulled two small glass globes from her pocket and lit the two small candles inside with a match from her pocket. Many Hillcrest citizens used Fulminancy to light these, but Kess couldn¡¯t think of anything less personal than that eerie light that destroyed nearly everything it touched. Instead, hers glowed a pleasant amber¡ªthe same as the lamp fuel throughout the city. She nestled them into the piles of rock and settled back against a nearby tree, watching the golden glow in the blue twilight. The glass prevented her candles from being blown out, and she watched that twinkling light as the sun set over the mountains, leaving her in the dusk with the two mounds.


    She gathered her locket into her hands, feeling the metal warm her skin as the flames shied away, then tucked it beneath her shirt. The sun sank behind the cloudy horizon, the wind blew, and Kess stared at those two lights, fighting the screams she heard in her head until the candles snuffed out, drowning in their own wax, a whisper in the night, and then nothing.

 Chapter 5: Bad for Business

    Rowan of Northmont tried not to fidget on the most important day of his life. Stand tall, he reminded himself. His back straightened a bit as Cashin Grandbow examined three years of work with a critical eye. You have just as much a right to be here as anyone¡ªmore, even.


    Cashin strolled around a glowing glass tube lit with faintly green Fulminancy, tendrils of lightning lapping lazily against the glass, slower and more docile than Fulminancy had any right to be. The man shook his head, muttering to himself, and scribbled something feverishly in a tiny notebook. Outside Cashin¡¯s study, a line of hopeful men and women trailed away from the study, experiments and ideas in hand. A few in the front glanced at Rowan¡¯s black sash and gave him a dirty look. Rowan was the same rank as Cashin, but his sash would curry him no favors with the man; Rowan¡¯s status as a Dud and an outcast was well known in the Uphill, and could well ruin his deal with Cashin entirely.


    Cashin crouched in front of the tube, eyes alight with the glow. He ran a hand through brown hair still thick with relative youth, and whistled softly.


    ¡°Clouds above, boy,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°Do you know what you¡¯ve done here? Don¡¯t answer that¡ªof course you do.¡± He peered at the tube again, chewing absently on his pencil, and shook his head. ¡°Fanas¡¯s holy storm. This clouding thing is incredible.¡±


    Rowan fought the elation that flared deep within¡ªthat spark of recognition and accomplishment he¡¯d been chasing for so long. The deal isn¡¯t sealed yet, he reminded himself, and took a deep breath before speaking.


    ¡°Thank you, Lord Grandbow,¡± he said with a slight bow. ¡°I hoped you would find it interesting. Fulminancy in its current form isn¡¯t quite conducive to being adopted city-wide, but with a few changes of my design, I think you¡¯ll find it quite agreeable in most homes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s honestly like nothing I¡¯ve ever seen,¡± Grandbow said, still grinning faintly. ¡°And let me tell you¡ªI¡¯ve seen a lot.¡±


    Rowan glanced at the line of people still trailing outside the study¡¯s door, long enough that it now ended somewhere in the street. Grandbow was one of the most generous investors in the city, and it was well-known that he was looking for new work after his recent disaster with the parlor. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt that, Lord Grandbow.¡±


    Grandbow waved at him absently, still peering into the tube, as if he could divest the secrets simply from staring at it. ¡°It¡¯s just Cashin,¡± he said. He added more notes to his tiny notebook as he spoke, and Rowan tried to peer over his shoulder without being too obvious. It would be hard to steal Rowan¡¯s design without understanding a few more of its secrets, but Rowan worried nonetheless. ¡°I¡¯m a businessman, not a politician,¡± Cashin said, wagging his pencil at Rowan. ¡°No fancy titles, no last names. I wouldn¡¯t care if you were a white sash from Downhill if you had good ideas in your head. You¡¯d do well to remember that if you¡¯re going to deal with me.¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯m going to¡ª¡° Cashin tossed his notebook at Rowan suddenly, and Rowan barely caught the tiny thing in fumbling hands. ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Numbers, boy,¡± Cashin said. ¡°What do you want for it? I¡¯ll give you as many gold minings as you want. I¡¯ll fund your research, your patents, give you equipment, whatever you need. You¡¯re sure this stabilizes it?¡±


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Rowan stood there for a moment, holding the tiny notebook, stunned. Then he recovered enough to stammer out an answer. ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°I tested multiple iterations of it. This one seems to be the most stable out there, and I tried several variations of it as well. I didn¡¯t want a repeat of whatever caused that parlor accident Downhill.¡±


    It was a gamble to bring up Cashin¡¯s parlors. Rowan barely knew the man, but failure could provoke even the calmest man to blows. Still, it was the truth, and Rowan was nothing if not honest.


    Cashin¡¯s gaze darkened, and as he straightened from Rowan¡¯s little tube of light, some of the levity and childlike excitement gone from his face. He suddenly seemed much closer to his almost forty years.


    ¡°That one was bad for business,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Years of trying to manage those and make them safe, and someone still manages to open an unregulated one right under my nose. I even had members of the Council on it, but they were too late.¡± He shook his head and met Rowan¡¯s eyes. ¡°I need a new deal. What you¡¯ve got here could change the entire city. Can you imagine it? No more fuel Downhill, which means fewer fires with those shacks they build to withstand the Drystorms. Uphill we won¡¯t have to squint by tiny globes. Might be able to get some actual work done at night. Clouds, we could export Fulminancy if we were careful.¡±


    Rowan frowned as Cashin became more animated, pacing the room. ¡°The nearest city is a month away,¡± Rowan said carefully. Cashin simply winked at him.


    ¡°However close they are, I¡¯m sure they¡¯d pay a high price for something like this. How¡¯d you do it, anyway?¡±


    Rowan thumbed through Cashin¡¯s notebook absently, noting several possible deals the man had jotted down. His hand twitched a bit on a particular page. Rowan had come from money; his family was hardly poor, and even estranged as he was, his friendship with Arlette meant that he had never wanted for much. Lab equipment, however, was expensive, and Rowan was running out of funds. Brilliant or not, his experiments with Fulminancy would come to an end if he couldn¡¯t fund them.


    His struggle with that was apparently at an end, judging from the numbers Rowan saw on the page. He shut the notebook with a snap, trying to keep his face straight, and walked over towards the tube of light where Cashin stood.


    ¡°Fulminancy has a tendency to destabilize from a distance,¡± he told Cashin, tapping his tube. ¡°That¡¯s why we usually keep it in such small globes. If it has something to latch onto, however, you can stabilize it a bit more. It retains more of its initial properties as it leaves a user.¡±


    ¡°So you give it something to latch onto, and it spreads the light around,¡± Cashin said. He whistled again. ¡°Though¡­that¡¯s not all there is to it, is there?¡±


    ¡°Not quite,¡± Rowan said, frowning. ¡°There¡¯s¡ª¡°


    Cashin held up a hand. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me the rest of it. If I¡¯m going to be your patron, I don¡¯t want to hold your secrets¡ªjust your wallet.¡±


    This is the oddest man I¡¯ve ever met, Rowan thought. Still, could he really complain? He¡¯d dreamt of this for years. The kind of funds Cashin offered would mean Rowan could expand his little experiment into something truly world changing. How could his family possibly keep him estranged after that? It would certainly be hard to ignore the father of modernism in Hillcrest.


    ¡°So?¡± Cashin asked, hope in his voice. ¡°I¡¯ve got a meeting with the Council tonight. I¡¯d love to tell them about a budding investment I¡¯ve got in the works.¡±


    He held Rowan¡¯s eyes, expectant, the faint green light of the tube blossoming against his face. Rowan flipped the notebook open, tapped a page, and smiled.


    ¡°I believe you have yourself a deal.¡±

 Chapter 6: The Rest of His Life

    Rowan couldn¡¯t believe his luck. He wound through the whitewashed stones of the Uphill, a spring in his step. Nearby, a few women whispered outside of a brightly lit shop, giggling. Their eyes fell on Rowan¡¯s sash a little too opportunistically for his taste, but he barely spared them a thought. No more begging Arlette for more money, he thought. No more odd jobs, no more fear of having to return home. With Cashin¡¯s grant, he could get down to the real research. He¡¯d figured out a way to stabilize Fulminancy in an object, of course, but could he stabilize it in people? Could he, more importantly, figure out how to stabilize it in himself?


    Hillcrest had long written off Duds as those born without Fulminancy, but Rowan felt there was something else to it. There was something else slumbering inside of him¡ªthere had to be. It just wasn¡¯t the obvious, crackling energy of traditional Fulminancy. It was why he¡¯d gotten involved with the research in the first place. And well, without a family title to inherit, he had to do something, didn¡¯t he?


    He arrived at Arlette¡¯s manor in Downhill Redring long before the crowds stumbled their way to the taverns and rings, and slipped inside one of the back entrances. The front of the manor itself was an imposing thing for Downhill, but fit well enough with other merchant homes in the district. It rose high above the street itself, its entrances fortified with wide, solid staircases. The neighborhood itself was far above the predicted line for Floodstorms, but the Stormseers weren¡¯t always perfect with their predictions; predicting storms in Hillcrest was part art and part science, and Rowan wasn¡¯t entirely certain the science had been settled. So instead, wealthier Downhill citizens opted for raised homes, carefully placed drains, and, of course, no basements.


    Rowan felt better as he left the streets. The Downhill wasn¡¯t always kind to someone wearing a black sash, and this time he hadn¡¯t been able to change. He untied his black sash the moment he stepped into the doorway and replaced it with a merchant¡¯s red¡ªthe highest rank anyone living Downhill could afford. A part of him hated the dishonesty of it, but a bigger part of him appreciated not being stared at wherever he went. The sash flashed with a snap of Fulminancy as he tied it and flipped the switch to his workshop lights.


    Rows of green tubes flickered to life, illuminating the room with a sickly but even glow. He frowned, looking at his ghastly reflection in a nearby mirror. The light reflected strangely off his dark hair and made his skin look paler than was healthy. I need to find someone who isn¡¯t Claire to help fill these, he thought, turning away. Ideally, Rowan would be able to find someone with a more natural amber tint to match the existing lights of the lower city. Perhaps Cashin¡¯s funds could convince someone to help.


    Rowan leaned over a workbench and flicked on another switch. Here, he¡¯d nearly quadrupled the contents of the tube in Cashin¡¯s study. He used metal at various places to give the Fulminancy places to jump to, and in this particular model he¡¯d used even more to counteract the amount of Fulminancy in it. Another trick was an inert gas pumped into the tube. Without it, Fulminancy had a tendency to blow more quickly, and it also allowed the tube to glow more brightly, which Rowan found fortuitous.


    He jotted a few notes down in a nearby notebook and almost caught himself humming. He smiled. Tomorrow I¡¯ll increase it again, he thought. So far, it had shown no signs of instability like his earlier models had. More Fulminancy would mean bigger, brighter lights perfect for industrial uses. Cashin would have a fit.


    ¡°Rowan!¡± The door to his workshop slammed open, and Rowan nearly dropped his pen. He knew who it was without looking and simply rolled his eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m not replacing that doorway again,¡± he said, finishing his notes.


    ¡°You won¡¯t need a doorway to keep people out with these glowing green monstrosities you¡¯ve got set up in here,¡± Arlette said, trailing up behind him to squint at one of the tubes. ¡°They¡¯ll run the other direction the moment they see you crouched over one muttering to yourself.¡±


    Her feet appeared next to Rowan¡¯s little workstation, her boots so thinly soled that she might as well have been barefoot. Still, no tiny shoes could undo Arlette¡¯s unfortunate height. Rowan¡¯s, however, was even worse, as he stood a full head taller than Arlette. It certainly wouldn¡¯t win either of them suitors in Hillcrest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have someone to swindle?¡± he asked, still writing.


    ¡°Swindle?¡± Arlette plopped down on a nearby stool, looking offended. She was rather good at it. Arlette was ten years his senior, well into her thirties, and by Rowan¡¯s estimation she¡¯d spent her extra ten years of life perfecting the fine art of always getting her way. ¡°You think that swindling is what I do to pay for all this nonsense?¡±


    ¡°That and a fair amount of family money, I¡¯d imagine.¡±


    Arlette waved at him dismissively, auburn hair falling into her face as she leaned forward and peered at his glass tube. ¡°They cut me off years ago. We¡¯ve been subsisting off of earnings from the rings for the better half of a year now.¡±


    Rowan paused in his notes and studied Arlette. ¡°That much?¡± he asked, unbelieving. Rowan could occasionally convince his own family to help his cause, mostly through his mother, but Arlette¡¯s family money supported the bulk of the household¡ªor had, anyway. She nodded, eyes still on his experiment. ¡°How do you make reliable money gambling, of all things?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not gambling,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s statistics. Each fighter has a win percentage, a likelihood of succeeding on certain days. You can map out humans with math, Rowan. Taller and heavier fighters are more successful Downhill, and if you can spot Fulminancy in one early, you can ride their victories Uphill until they get thrashed in one way or another.¡±


    ¡°But everyone can bet on heavier, better fighters,¡± Rowan argued. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be able to make money that way.¡±


    Arlette grinned broadly, leaning back on the stool to put her boots on the counter. Rowan shooed at her feet, but she kept them there, anyway. ¡°Of course I can¡¯t make money that way¡ªor not much, anyway. The real money is in the discrepancies,¡± she said. ¡°Pay attention to patterns and you¡¯ll learn who breaks the pattern¡ªthose are where you can make the real money, Rowan. Which reminds me¡ª¡° She pulled a handful of card stock out of her pocket, penned in her no-nonsense handwriting. ¡°I need you to take these to Redhill tomorrow and get them certified.¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Rowan frowned, taking the cards. ¡°A Downhill Bloodcrawler?¡± he asked. ¡°She¡¯s not even Fulminant¡ªshe¡¯ll get destroyed, won¡¯t she?¡±


    Arlette smiled again in a knowing way and patted his shoulder so hard it rattled the desk he leaned against. ¡°What did I say about discrepancies?¡± she asked in a singsong voice. Rowan sighed and pocketed the tickets, turning back to his notebook. Then something occurred to him. He pulled the cards from his pocket and peered at them again. A girl¡¯s name was printed there, along with her rank. She¡¯d be facing an Uphill girl from a red and black sash family¡ªone with a history of poor control over her own powers, if Rowan¡¯s memory was correct.


    He waved the cards at Arlette. ¡°She¡¯s a Dud?¡± Arlette tapped against his little glass contraption with a piece of metal.


    ¡°Officially, yes,¡± Arlette said. ¡°Her record is as clean as it gets¡ªmaybe too clean. She fights, she loses, she lives to fight another day. No record of impossibilities or oddities in her bouts, besides the obvious issue of throwing matches for a living.¡±


    ¡°Then why fight against the Fulminant?¡± Rowan asked, trying not to wince as Arlette continued her tapping. ¡°Why go Uphill at all when she¡¯s paid to fix matches down here?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the same question I asked,¡± Arlette said, meeting his eyes. ¡°So I dug into her past matches. Whether she¡¯s agreed to do it or not, she has a long history of fighting against the Fulminant. Not full sashed ones, mind you¡ªjust the typical dregs of the Downhill. Girls who later lose in Uphill arenas or otherwise disappear as low-level servants for wealthy families. Or maybe they get a job in the parlors¡ªbefore that disaster the other night, anyway.¡±


    Arlette sighed and straightened, her eyes falling on Rowan¡¯s other lights. One of them flickered slightly, and Rowan frowned at it, his attention threatening to wander away from the conversation. ¡°Regardless, there might be something more to her,¡± Arlette continued. Rowan trailed over to his flickering light and inspected it as she spoke. As he held out a hand, the light dimmed further, though Rowan was used to that particular oddity. ¡°It¡¯s not normal to survive so many fights against budding Fulminancers without ending up sidelined yourself, Rowan. Even if you dodge the worst injuries, the kind of pain and trauma that Fulminancy inflicts over time would be enough to spook any fighter out of the ring for good. Too many close calls, too many healing bills¡ªyou¡¯d have to have something wrong with you to keep stepping back into that ring.¡±


    Repair finished, Rowan stepped back from his light, and it blossomed into life again. ¡°So either she¡¯s exceptionally talented, crazy, or¡­¡±


    ¡°Or she¡¯s Fulminant herself.¡±


    Rowan met Arlette¡¯s eyes. There was a spark there¡ªthat of money to be made. Perhaps Arlette could follow this Fulminant fighter Uphill where there was significantly more money to be made, but Rowan was interested in the girl for another reason.


    ¡°What happens when someone hits her with Fulminancy?¡± Rowan asked as he sorted through a stack of journals. Arlette frowned, watching him, but finally stopped tapping on the glass tube.


    ¡°That¡¯s the odd part, Rowan¡ªif she was completely Fulminant she could just channel it away, but she still ends up Marked.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she¡¯s doing it on purpose.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Arlette agreed. ¡°It would seem suspicious if she walked away unscathed from every Fulminant fight without a scratch. Clouds, her fight record alone is damning enough. She¡ª¡° Arlette paused, then leaned over the table where Rowan was thumbing through several pages. ¡°What are you looking for?¡±


    ¡°Discrepancies, like you said.¡±


    Arlette sighed dramatically and leaned back against the table, crossing her arms. ¡°Not this again,¡± she said quietly. Rowan ignored her. That page is in here somewhere, he thought, flipping faster. ¡°Rowan, if she was like you, she¡¯d barely get hit at all.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she just doesn¡¯t understand how to control it.¡±


    ¡°Control it? Rowan, there¡¯s nothing to control as a Dud¡ªthat¡¯s the entire point. You¡¯re no different from me, or anyone else born without Fulminancy. You¡ª¡°


    Rowan stopped his search on a familiar page, then locked eyes with Arlette and reached up towards the tube of light. He closed his hand around the warm glass, and the light snuffed out entirely where his hand met. Hesitantly, Arlette reached out and did the same.


    Nothing changed.


    Rowan raised an eyebrow at her and returned to his book. ¡°There¡¯s more to this than you want to admit,¡± he said. ¡°If that girl¡¯s been surviving fights she shouldn¡¯t, then maybe she has a different way of fighting back.¡±


    Arlette took her hand away from the tube, frowning at it. In spite of the physical evidence, Rowan knew she still wasn¡¯t convinced of his odd powers. It was one of their oldest arguments, and while Arlette had seen plenty of evidence to suggest that Rowan was different in some way, she was a practical woman. Esoteric powers just weren¡¯t her wheelhouse, just as gambling and numbers weren¡¯t Rowan¡¯s.


    ¡°Well,¡± she said, straightening. ¡°I don¡¯t care if the woman is a Dud of the highest order or the Seat of Mariel herself¡ªshe¡¯s going to make us a lot of money tomorrow night. Make sure you get those betting cards stamped before then, but not too soon.¡± She paused at the doorway, some lift back in her step. ¡°Don¡¯t want people knowing of our bet too early¡ªword travels fast in Hillcrest.¡±


    With that, she shut the door to Rowan¡¯s shop, leaving him alone with his work.


    Rowan thumbed through the cards one last time, then set them on top of his notebook. There, penned carefully in his own handwriting, was a list of failed experiments not on Fulminancy, but on himself.


    Each was crossed out with a line, along with notes in the margin that had grown more frantic as the years passed. Each led to another dead end, another mystery. The mysteries weren¡¯t the hard failures to deal with¡ªthose he could research, provided he could get his hands on the right information. That, of course, was easier said than done in Hillcrest.


    The dead ends bothered him, though. These suggested that there really was nothing to his condition. They suggested that Duds were simply people cursed with the inability to harness Fulminancy.


    But there¡¯s something more to it, he thought. There has to be. For years he¡¯d been able to negate Fulminancy or otherwise affect it in a way that few other Duds he knew of could, almost like he directly opposed that crackling energy with his own sort of power.


    The scientific part of him had nearly given up on such a possibility, but another, more emotional side of him wasn¡¯t so easily dissuaded. He wanted answers. He¡¯d tolerated abuse and dismissal for far too long to give up now.


    There was something here, among these failures. A clue or a lead he could follow. Perhaps his success with Cashin was a sign of more success to come. With more funds and access to Cashin¡¯s connections, Rowan could research his condition in earnest. He could find a cure.


    Rowan glanced at the tickets again, where the name Kess was printed across the top. A mysterious girl without powers able to survive multiple fights with Fulminancers, he thought. It was another mystery¡ªanother series of experiments that simply didn¡¯t make sense. He shut the notebook, the leather smooth against his touch, and piled it haphazardly on a stack of other notebooks.


    Today he would find answers about how to spread Fulminancy to the entire city.


    Tomorrow, perhaps, the girl could provide answers about himself.

 Chapter 7: One Less Fulminancer

    The lights that lined the street back into Whitering were the color of death. Kess gave them a wide berth as she walked, though she couldn¡¯t help but stare. They were placed at odd intervals, mostly in front of shops that either catered to wealthier Downhill customers or otherwise dealt in Fulminancy themselves.


    The parlors were the worst. Bright with an unnatural glow both inside and out, Kess¡¯s heart thumped erratically each time she passed one.


    One particularly aggressive parlor owner¡ªa heavyset middle-aged woman with wild curls¡ªwatched her walk by. The older woman¡¯s eyes snapped to Kess¡¯s slight limp, which she had a hard time hiding in the uneven streets of Whitering. Kess sped up her walk into a slight jog, but the woman snatched at her sash in a surprising burst of speed.


    ¡°Here now, lass. Have you been seen for that?¡± She peered at Kess¡¯s leg, eyes sharp. The otherworldly blue glow of Fulminancy cast the woman¡¯s features in a ghastly light as Kess tried to pull away.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any money,¡± she lied immediately. She moved to dislodge herself, but Fulminancy crept into the woman¡¯s hand, a crackling blue light, and Kess froze, panicking.


    ¡°No need for that,¡± the woman said kindly, her eyes crinkling in a smile. ¡°We¡¯ve got plenty to go around, particularly with the funds Forgebrand sent this morning. It¡¯s a celebration, after all. Let me¡ª¡°


    Kess finally detached herself from the woman and put a very large chunk of space between herself and the parlor. Without Fulminancy trying to crawl over her skin, she immediately felt better. The older woman scowled at her, Fulminancy still crackling in her hand.


    ¡°What celebration?¡± Kess asked, straightening her sash. The woman¡¯s Fulminancy fizzled out, and she shrugged, eyes already scanning the street for another customer. Free or not, she¡¯d probably convert at least some of her charitable work into ongoing business for her parlor¡ªa big ask these days, given what had happened last week.


    ¡°You must live in the mountain with the rocks, girl,¡± the woman said, smile gone now that Kess was no longer a potential customer. ¡°Forgebrand¡¯s been spreading the word Downhill all day¡ªI imagine even the rocklovers up top have gotten word. Mariel¡¯s alive. The Smith himself said as much.¡±


    Kess snorted as she edged away from the glowing blue lights of the parlor and left the older woman behind. Mariel wasn¡¯t alive¡ªof that much, Kess was certain.


    Further into Whitering, towards the edge of the city, the sick lights finally dwindled and disappeared. Kess was glad to leave them behind. Whoever had come up with such an idea was a madman at best, and a sadist at worst. Who would want to illuminate their homes with that sickly, unnatural light? Who would want a constant reminder of a power that destroyed more than it gave?


    Regardless, Kess had a sinking feeling that the city would accept such changes with open arms. Change, though it so often destroyed old ways of life, would be embraced in a place like Hillcrest. Here, novelty was its own commodity, and the ability to stay up into the late hours without worrying about lamp oil was admittedly tempting, even to Kess. Fortunately, she wouldn¡¯t be around to see the changes sweeping through the city if she had her way.


    Kess turned into an alley, slinking down a set of steps. She paused in a tiny alcove and slid her body lithely into a small window near street level. There were other entrances, but Witchblades usually patrolled nearby. Most would assume this street to be uninhabitable when the Floodstorms came, but a set of cleverly concealed drains kept the rainwater out, mostly.


    A damp scent remained as she shut the window behind her, blinking in the warm light. In a city surrounded constantly by voluminous thunderheads, sunlight was at a premium, but lamp oil was not, and no expense was spared for the small bit of comfort it offered people whose lives were already dark enough.


    ¡°Kestril!¡± Draven¡¯s booming voice called out across the humming bar, his cackle a piece of home. She smiled despite herself, throwing her hood back.


    ¡°No guard duty tonight?¡± she asked, taking a seat at the bar. Draven looked at her with an expression of shock, a pedestrian orange and white sash swinging from his waist.


    ¡°And miss the celebration?¡± Kess nudged him with her swinging foot.


    ¡°Hopefully this celebration is different from the nonsense I just heard in the city,¡± she said, thanking Draven¡¯s bartender with a nod.


    ¡°Any night you get home in one piece is cause to celebrate, lass.¡± Draven smiled, but there was concern in his gaze as he caught the web of cuts meandering away from the flowering bruise on her cheek. His brows knit together.


    ¡°Another one?¡± he asked, voice suddenly soft. Kess tried to wave him off, but couldn¡¯t hide the wince in her face at the sudden movement in her rib cage. ¡°Honestly, lass, he might as well put you up in the Fulminant rings. It makes no difference with how many you fight, anyway.¡±


    Kess stared at the wall of the bar sightlessly. ¡°I won¡¯t have to worry about it either way after tomorrow,¡± she said, taking a sip of the stale drink. It certainly wasn¡¯t the best in town, but it wasn¡¯t the worst either. Draven pulled up his own chair nearby, his form towering over her.


    ¡°What did you get yourself into this time?¡± he asked, turning towards her. ¡°Are you still on about leaving the city? Lass, there¡¯s nothing out there¡ªjust rocks and hills. Where would you go?¡±


    ¡°Somewhere without Fulminancy,¡± Kess said quietly. ¡°But there¡¯s nothing for it now¡ªthe Uphill¡¯s requiring Fulminant sashes to leave now. Bolair told me this afternoon.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d count you blessed if I didn¡¯t know you¡¯re already trying to figure out a way around it,¡± Draven said, chuckling. Kess smiled slightly, but the truth was that she was at a loss. The obvious solution, of course, was to win the fight tomorrow and get a Fulminant sash, but that solution brought with it a host of other problems¡ªnamely that she was being paid to lose in the first place.


    The second problem was one of her oldest; she wanted nothing to do with Fulminancy. Kess leaned over the counter and rotated her drink, thinking.


    ¡°Far be it from me to put ideas in your head,¡± Draven said, ¡°but my men might be able to help you¡ªprovided you agree to meet them.¡±


    ¡°Forgebrand?¡± Kess asked. Draven nodded, and she sighed. ¡°You know how I feel about them.¡±


    ¡°We feel just the same about you, lass,¡± one man bellowed behind her. His table erupted in laughter, and Kess felt her face grow warm.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean it like that,¡± she muttered, though Draven just clapped her on the back in a friendly manner.


    ¡°They know you don¡¯t mean nothing by it,¡± he said. ¡°Still, plenty of us know ways in and out of the city.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Kess said bitterly. ¡°And all I have to do in return is swear loyalty to a dead Fulminant woman.¡± She spun her drink, letting it wobble on the counter, half empty. ¡°Mariel?¡± she asked. ¡°That¡¯s the best Forgebrand could do?¡± She looked around the room at the bulky men who filled Draven¡¯s tavern, most of them wearing white sashes dirtied with use, and shook her head. ¡°I swear, Draven, sometimes I wonder if you¡¯re in a gang.¡±


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Just a group of good men who know what they¡¯re about,¡± Draven said, eying his tavern. ¡°A brotherhood of sorts. Smiths and jewelers, most of us.¡±


    ¡°And soldiers and mercenaries.¡±


    Draven winced a bit at that. ¡°Some few,¡± he admitted, taking a drink. ¡°But I imagine Mariel needs fighters as much as craftsmen.¡±


    ¡°Your men use swords, Draven,¡± Kess said. ¡°If that¡¯s not the definition of a gang, then I don¡¯t know what is. It¡¯s not right.¡±


    ¡°Plenty of men use swords outside of Hillcrest,¡± Draven said quietly. ¡°In Tamresh they train boys to use them from a young age.¡±


    ¡°Tamresh is full of savages.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we¡¯re the savages,¡± Draven said darkly. Kess found it hard to argue with that. Swords or not, she¡¯d never heard of Tamreshians using Fulminancy, which seemed like the ultimate form of savagery when all was said and done. ¡°All I¡¯m saying, lass, is that we¡¯re more than what you have us pegged to be. Mariel wanted more for this city than us squabbling over sashes and rings. She was a champion of the common people¡ªshe even crafted items that would help Duds wield Fulminancy.¡±


    ¡°A plan working beautifully considering that I never see one of those trinkets in the hands of anyone with a striped Downhill sash.¡±


    ¡°Well, lass, as they say, be the change you want to see in the world.¡±


    Kess blinked, looking around the room. The usual thugs occupied Draven¡¯s tavern, but equally present were a number of wealthier orange and red sashes wearing the fine clothes of merchants or craftsmen.


    ¡°Mariel¡¯s Smiths,¡± Draven said proudly, following her eyes. ¡°We take her designs, forge them anew, give them back to the common people. Keep her dream alive, as it were.¡±


    ¡°And where are you getting the Fulminancy to infuse her designs with?¡±


    Draven shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable as he turned his drink. ¡°No doubt you won¡¯t like the answer,¡± he said. ¡°The current Seat of Mariel. She inherits all of this, to my line of thinking¡ªand the responsibility that comes with the Seat. That¡¯s what the original Mariel intended it for, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Mariel is dead,¡± Kess said immediately.


    ¡°Is she? I must have missed the funeral.¡±


    ¡°She blew up half the palace when she left. If that didn¡¯t cause her funeral, I¡¯m sure the Uphill arranged something for her. Would you return after that?¡±


    He snorted, returning to his glass. ¡°No,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I guess I wouldn¡¯t. But people talk.¡± His eyes glazed over as he stared at the wall ahead, as if he could see all the way to some future that Kess was unable to grasp. ¡°A Mariel of the people, one who might defend us and help us.¡± His eyes were glassy from the future he was glimpsing, or the alcohol. Kess wasn¡¯t sure which. ¡°Can you imagine it?¡±


    His words were dangerous, and Kess couldn¡¯t quite hide a nervous glance around the bar. ¡°What¡¯s there to imagine?¡± she finally replied. ¡°She obviously didn¡¯t care about any of us or the original Mariel¡¯s intentions if she left.¡±


    Draven nodded with a small smile to the bartender as his drink was replaced with a fresh one. ¡°Left, was killed, who really knows. But you know¡­¡± he trailed off, tapping his fingers against the bar. ¡°That Seat wasn¡¯t meant to keep us in check like dogs.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware of that tale,¡± Kess said, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her own drink. Her cheek throbbed just a bit less with each sip.


    ¡°Are you now?¡± Draven asked. His eyes sparkled with amusement, a tilted smile lighting his ruddy face. ¡°I never much took you for a historian.¡±


    ¡°How could I forget the biggest lie of them all¡ªthat the Seventh Seat was supposed to help us?¡±


    ¡°It could be true. It gives people something to hope for at least.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all it is,¡± Kess replied, staring moodily into her drink. Somehow it wasn¡¯t helping her attitude like it usually did. ¡°It¡¯s just something drunkards like you and I tell each other on stormy nights in taverns to try and convince ourselves that there¡¯s something bigger out there.¡± The worn grain of the bar blurred in her eyesight, but it was hardly the alcohol¡ªit was the lie she kept telling herself to keep from shattering into a million pieces.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re certainly charming,¡± Draven said, clapping her heartily on the back. Kess tried to summon a smile, but found it elusive.


    ¡°Do you think she hated herself, Drav?¡± she asked, playing idly with a dinner knife.


    ¡°Lass, that¡¯s a hard question for any of us to answer without being in her head,¡± he said, but he looked thoughtful as he took a swig of his ale. ¡°I find it difficult to believe that anyone can hate themselves quite as much as you,¡± he said, chuckling.


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying I¡¯m the expert on this topic.¡±


    ¡°I am. What do you think?¡±


    Kess paused, the knife freezing in her hand. Mariel was the most powerful Fulminancer in the city, a force of nature by herself. She¡¯d inherited all of the original Seat of Mariel¡¯s powers, born with everything handed to her, a life that many would envy. Yet she threw it all away, leaving the Seat empty for the first time since it had been established.


    ¡°I think she did the clouding city a favor,¡± she said quietly. One less Fulminancer. Maybe she also took a few of them out with her while she was at it.¡± Draven¡¯s expression darkened.


    ¡°You¡¯d wish death on them so easily?¡± he asked. Kess shot him a flat look.


    ¡°Drav, they sneak into my fights, they burned my last house down, and they won¡¯t even let Oliver into Uphill to study half the time. I¡¯d kill them myself if given the opportunity,¡± she finished.


    ¡°Killing isn¡¯t something you should take so lightly,¡± he said. ¡°In any case,¡± he sighed, downing the rest of his drink. ¡°The rumor today is that Mariel is here in the lower city, building a movement to fight the Uphill, even as we speak.¡±


    ¡°Why on storm¡¯s gray earth would you try to fight them?¡± she burst out without thinking. Draven¡¯s pointed glance gave her pause. ¡°What I do is very different, Drav. I never know they¡¯re Fulminant until I¡¯m already in the ring, anyway. And fighting the Uphill is another thing entirely. It¡¯s like flying a kite in a Lightstorm.¡± Kess studied her drink distastefully. She¡¯d obviously had too much already if she was having this discussion with Draven again. ¡°Is this more Forgebrand propaganda?¡±


    Drav looked slightly embarrassed, though some solemnity entered into his gaze. ¡°Forgebrand doesn¡¯t peddle propaganda, lass. We keep the traditions alive¡ªno more, no less.¡±


    ¡°Which is why¡ªbesides you¡ªevery Forgebrand member I¡¯ve ever met holds Mariel in higher regard than even Fanas,¡± she said. ¡°I mean clouds, Draven, how do you even worship one without the other? They were both founders.¡± She shook her head and took a sip of her ale. ¡°Traditions or not, starting a disagreement with the Uphill is only going to provoke the Witchblades into coming down here more often.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Drav replied quietly. ¡°But smaller things have changed worlds.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to change worlds when you¡¯re dead,¡± she said, staring into her glass. If Kess had her way, it would be her only company for the rest of the night.


    ¡°Well,¡± Drav said, knowing when the conversation was over with Kess. ¡°You choose to believe what you want. As for me, I¡¯ll choose the option that doesn¡¯t have Witchblades visiting Whitering every night and ruining my business. I¡¯d tell stories about a damn fairy if I thought it might make for better business.¡±


    A small smile managed to worm its way back onto her face. One more fight, Kess thought. One more night with them, and then no more Fulminant, no more running, and no more Witchblades. She clinked glasses with Drav¡¯s empty one.


    ¡°Now lass, what is this I hear about a fight in the Uphill tomorrow?¡±


    Kess froze, cup halfway to her lips, then decided it couldn¡¯t hurt to tell Draven. He¡¯d tolerated worse decisions before.


    ¡°One last fight, Drav. In the Fulminant rings.¡± Draven always swore up and down that his establishment didn¡¯t tolerate eavesdropping, but the silence that followed her statement was rather incriminating. Slowly, a nervous chatter filled the room again as Draven glared at his patrons before turning back to Kess. ¡°Maybe if I win enough off of it, I can try Bolair again, or maybe another guard will cave,¡± she continued, eying her drink.


    Voiced, her reasoning sounded weak, but she couldn¡¯t come to terms with the idea of actually winning the fight. Was she even capable of it? And if she did win, what then? Would she become Fulminant? Wear a blue sash? Move Uphill to bathe herself in that sick, deadly glow? Her stomach churned uncomfortably.


    ¡°Kess, they¡¯ll make tonight look like child¡¯s play.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s supposed to be inexperienced,¡± Kess said, avoiding his eyes. She knew what she would find there.


    After the silence stretched too long, she glanced at Draven¡¯s ruddy face. He stared darkly into his mug, eyes unseeing. ¡°Inexperienced, powerful, and noble,¡± he said. ¡°What could go wrong?¡±

 Chapter 8: One More Night

    The Uphill had taken news of Mariel¡¯s supposed return to life with much less enthusiasm than the Downhill. Kess climbed endless sets of whitewashed stairs, her passage through the city remarkably eased with her brother Oliver at her side.


    Each checkpoint was the same; Oliver¡¯s red and white sash got them through sets of Witchblades with a simple snap of Fulminancy and a nod, as looks of distaste were thrown Kess¡¯s way. Kess found the distaste mutual¡ª she had no desire to be Uphill either. Oliver relaxed as they climbed, but Kess couldn¡¯t help but think that she was entering the belly of the beast.


    After another checkpoint allowed them passage into a whitewashed terrace stuffed with manicured plants, people, and those revolting lights, Oliver turned towards her, murmuring quietly. ¡°Kess, if you don¡¯t relax, the city guard is going to accuse me of kidnapping my own sibling.¡±


    ¡°Which isn¡¯t so far from the truth,¡± Kess said, gripping her sash to hide shaking hands. Oliver sighed, his hair falling into his face, a lighter brown than Kess¡¯s own.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯ll never understand your disdain for the Uphill,¡± he said. He gestured towards laughing tables of well-dressed men and women, lit by those ghastly lights overhead. In the corner of the plaza, several musicians played, and Kess had to admit that they were good, though she¡¯d heard men and women just as talented in Draven¡¯s tavern. ¡°They¡¯re no different from anyone Downhill,¡± Oliver continued as they walked. ¡°Just better dressed, which reminds me¡ª we need to do something about your outfit.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about the people,¡± Kess said carefully. ¡°It¡¯s about the¡­you know.¡± She flinched as a man nearby juggled a ball of Fulminancy between his hands as a gaggle of young women looked on in awe. She gave the man a wide berth as she steered Oliver away, eager to change the subject. ¡°Anyway, there¡¯s nothing wrong with my outfit. It¡¯s clean. It¡¯s simple. Plenty of women wear trousers, even Uphill.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about the trousers, dear sister¡ª it¡¯s about the style.¡± He nodded towards a group of women wearing admittedly nicer trousers than Kess, and she fought to hide an eye roll. Oliver was downright obsessed with the fashion trends of the Uphill, and his time spent within the confines of a major Fulminant university wasn¡¯t helping matters. ¡°Embroidery is all the rage these days,¡± he continued, smiling at the women as they passed. ¡°What you¡¯re wearing is¡­¡± He trailed off, looking at her plain trousers and white shirt with distaste. ¡°Pedestrian.¡±


    ¡°Utilitarian,¡± Kess argued. ¡°Besides, people would find it odd if a striped orange sash wandered the city wearing expensive clothing.¡±


    ¡°You were red just yesterday.¡±


    ¡°And now I¡¯m orange,¡± Kess said, giving her brother a broad, mostly fake smile as they crossed the square. The smile fell from her face immediately when she saw where Oliver was leading her¡ª a tavern blindingly lit with Fulminant energy that spilled into the streets outside with a blue flash every few seconds. Her pace slowed, and she turned to survey her brother¡¯s own clothing¡ª a fine mix of jackets and deeply dyed garments that had probably cost him months of Kess¡¯s rent Downhill.


    She tugged at his red and white sash, frowning. It was her family¡¯s own sash¡ª a respectable Uphill rank that would get the two of them into all but the most exclusive Blackhill gatherings. ¡°Do you have to wear that?¡± she asked, stalling.


    Oliver blinked for a moment, as if unsure what she meant. Then his eyes fell to the sash and he let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°Our family colors?¡± he asked. ¡°What else am I supposed to do, Kess, go naked? Clouds, they¡¯re your colors too. I don¡¯t know why you insist on trading sashes as often as you change clothes.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°No one needs to know where I¡¯m from,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Least of all the Witchblades.¡±


    ¡°Sister, please. That term is barbaric,¡± Oliver said, grimacing. ¡°Do me a favor and call them by their proper names. They¡¯re just doing their job to keep the city safe.¡±


    And to keep the rifraff out of the Uphill, Kess thought bitterly. Then again, she¡¯d chosen her station. What did she have to complain about? Oliver slung a large arm over her shoulders and steered her towards the tavern. There was little she could do to fight it without making a scene, so she let him, her mind running through a litany of excuses to leave early. She wouldn¡¯t have shown up at all, but her time with Oliver was limited; she intended to make the most of what she did have, even if her brother insisted on making her as uncomfortable as possible.


    ¡°Safe from what?¡± Kess finally asked, irritated. ¡°Their own people? Hillcrest hasn¡¯t seen war in hundreds of years. The least they could do is¡­¡±


    She trailed off as Oliver pushed her through the doorway into the tavern. The unnatural light flashed eerily, impossible to miss even mixed as it was among traditional lanterns and a crackling hearth at the edge of the open room. Men and women much more expensively dressed than either of the two of them occupied booths at the edge of the room. In the center, raised on a pedestal, a trio of Fulminant women wearing the red and blue sashes of a Master wove their Fulminancy throughout the room, the slight hues of their individual power tinting the lightning gold, pink, and purple respectively. The patrons laughed and cheered as the Fulminancy crept around the tavern in a series of snaps and buzzes.


    Kess¡¯s stomach churned violently. Only Oliver¡¯s hand on her shoulder kept her from turning on her heel to leave. He swept her into a booth before she could gather her wits. Mercifully, it was at the edge of the room, tucked away from the Fulminant pedestal. Kess let out a jagged breath she hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d been holding as she took a seat facing the wall. She usually preferred to watch the doorway¡ª a nervous habit she¡¯d picked up from living Downhill¡ª but she realized she¡¯d be better off trying to ignore the Fulminancy behind her.


    It was still hard to fake normalcy as Oliver¡¯s face lit up different colors. He smiled, his eyes flashing with the light as he watched the women perform.


    ¡°Can¡¯t find anything like this Downhill, can you?¡± he asked, smiling. ¡°I mean look at them¡ª years of training to do something like that. They put in the little studs of metal at the edges of the room to make it a little easier for performers, but to stretch Fulminancy that far is impressive nonetheless.¡±


    He watched the performers for a long stretch of silence while Kess fought to find a position in the booth where she could be comfortable. It was more than the padded seat, she knew¡ª it was the death crackling behind her. A serving woman brought out drinks, and Oliver met her eyes again, something gleaming in his own.


    Kess shook her head immediately. ¡°No,¡± she said, picking up her drink. ¡°We¡¯re not discussing this again.¡±


    ¡°Kess,¡± Oliver said, his voice softening. ¡°If what you told me was true, what you have dwarfs what those women do. You don¡¯t have to spend your life in anonymity. You don¡¯t have to fight Downhill. You could be someone, dear sister. Someone grand. Even the Council doesn¡¯t¡ª¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Kess said, setting down her drink. It was a bitter tea, and the amber liquid sloshed slightly as she did so. ¡°Do we have to have this conversation every time we meet one another? Besides, I told you¡ª it¡¯s all gone.¡±


    ¡°After that night?¡± he asked quietly. Kess nodded, though she looked away as she did so. She hadn¡¯t told Oliver the entire story of that night so many years ago. She was trying to repair their relationship, not destroy it after so long apart. Still, the half truths she gave her brother bothered her more than she wanted to admit. ¡°Nothing a few Uphill healers can¡¯t fix,¡± Oliver said, nonplussed. ¡°People lose Fulminancy for one reason or another all the time. They get hit too hard in a ring, or maybe burn themselves out trying to use it too often, or they try something beyond their skill level. We see it all the time at the university. Sadly we can¡¯t do anything for people born Duds, but for someone like you¡ª¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t need fixing,¡± Kess said, hand tightening around her drink. The cup seared her hand with its warmth. ¡°I¡ª¡° She hesitated for just a moment. Then, as Fulminancy snapped behind her, she made a sudden decision. ¡°Oliver, I¡¯m leaving the city. Tomorrow.¡±

 Chapter 9: Stormclap and Selling Out

    Stunned silence followed her statement. Oliver froze, cup halfway to his lips, and simply stared at her. The tavern erupted in cheers as one of the Master Fulminant began to pluck a few strings of an instrument with her Fulminancy. A soulful, warm sound filled the air, even as the hair on Kess¡¯s arms stood up.


    Oliver shook his head, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Kess, there¡¯s nothing out there. Just clouds, and fog, and¡­rocks, I guess. What is this all about? Your Fulminancy? Kess, I acknowledge that you need help, but throwing yourself out of the city isn¡¯t the way to do it. Let me make contact with some people who specialize in your type of condition and¡ª¡±


    Kess cut him off before he could suggest more insanities. ¡°You¡¯re a scholar,¡± she snapped. ¡°Surely your studies touched on other cities, other civilizations outside of the mountains.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said. His eyes focused on a distant point, as if he were parsing through maps in his mind. ¡°Miles and miles away. Further than a defenseless woman with no travel skills or abilities would get.¡± He let out a long, heavy sigh, the levity from earlier gone. ¡°I mean clouds, Kess, what are you going to do when Floodstorm season comes along? Drown? That¡¯s if you¡¯re not swept off the mountains during Drystorm season, and if for some reason you make it to the Lightstorms, they¡¯ll find your charred corpse as a marker on the mountain. There¡¯s a reason why we¡¯re only letting Fulminant outside the city now.¡± He leaned forward and lowered his voice further, though he had already been speaking in hushed tones. ¡°The Council found a whole pile of corpses outside of the city, trailing all the way down the mountain¡ª mostly Downhill people. Supposedly they were hoping to settle the farms off the mountain, but the weather was wild and unpredictable¡ª more so than usual, anyway. Two of them made it back alive out of nearly fifty, so we shut the gates to anyone not Fulminant.¡±


    Kess blinked as she realized something. ¡°Wait,¡± she said. ¡°We shut the gates?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Oliver amended, looking a bit uncomfortable. ¡°Perhaps not we in the full sense of the word, but it was a topic of much interest at the university. We held forums, discussions, debates. I was part of the team who presented to the Council, and they came to the same conclusion that we did.¡± He met Kess¡¯s eyes with his own dark blue ones so much like her own, his face shadowed by the light of the Fulminancy dancing around the room. ¡°Leaving Hillcrest will get you killed.¡±


    Kess stared blankly at the table grain, refusing to meet her brother¡¯s eyes. She wasn¡¯t a fool¡ª she knew what lay beyond Hillcrest¡ª but surely anything was better than running and hiding. Fighting for survival in the mountains would be better than days spent in the shadow of the Fulminant, waiting for someone to recognize her, or for her powers to spill over. Outside Hillcrest, she could be free at least.


    Or dead, she thought. Still, even that possibility seemed less daunting than dealing with Fulminancy here. Oliver regarded her, his eyes sharp when she glanced up at him briefly. For Oliver, everything was a puzzle¡ª even people. Kess hadn¡¯t had long with her brother, as they¡¯d spent a childhood mostly apart, but it seemed that Oliver¡¯s desire to fix, repair, and put everything in its proper place had persisted from childhood. He couldn¡¯t fathom Kess¡¯s idea of running away or fighting just as she couldn¡¯t share his fascination with Fulminancy.


    ¡°How do you intend to get out in the first place?¡± he asked, rubbing a hand against the stubble on his cheek. ¡°With the Council¡¯s proclamation you¡¯ll¡ª¡°


    ¡°A fight tomorrow,¡± Kess said, hardly believing what she was saying. ¡°If I win they¡¯ll make me Fulminant, with all the rights and privileges of the rank, even if I don¡¯t show a drop of it in the ring.¡±


    Oliver sat back and whistled slowly. ¡°Forgive me for saying so, sister, but that doesn¡¯t seem like something you were willing to do even a fortnight ago¡ª though I suppose it would give you access to the gates. From there, though, you¡¯d still face the same issues I brought up before.¡± He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. ¡°What did change your mind?¡±


    ¡°A lack of options,¡± Kess replied quietly. ¡°I want out of Hillcrest, Oliver¡ª whatever it takes. If that means selling out, then I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    ¡°Selling out¡ª¡° Oliver shook his head, a look of distaste on his face. ¡°Kess, it¡¯s not ¡®selling out¡¯ to do what you were born to do. Every Fulminant had a bad experience or two when they first started using the power. I would say it¡¯s abnormal not to have such an experience. Whatever it was¡ª whatever you¡¯re refusing to tell me¡ª it¡¯s not as big of a deal as you¡¯re making it. We can¡ª¡°


    ¡°No,¡± Kess said, more firmly. The longer she sat in that tavern, the more her will to go through with her insane plan solidified. ¡°I¡¯m leaving, one way or another. There are more Witchblades Downhill than ever, that thing,¡± she gestured wildly outside, ¡°keeps following me, and I can¡¯t go a single night without having to fight one in the lower city arenas.¡± She took a deep, shaking breath, and fought to lower her voice as a few nearby patrons stared. ¡°Oliver, we can¡¯t escape them here. I can¡¯t escape them here. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s out there, but it¡¯s better than this.¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Oliver sat there for a very long moment, his hands around his drink. Fulminancy crept towards him, snapping and crackling, a constant companion though he wasn¡¯t Fulminant himself. A wan smile appeared on his lips, though his eyes remained sad. ¡°You promised you¡¯d give up those fights you know.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°And yet you¡¯re doing the opposite.¡±


    ¡°This will be my last one,¡± Kess said. ¡°Then no more, just like I promised you.¡±


    ¡°Well, dear sister, that¡¯s not much of a promise, is it?¡± His eyes fell on her marked cheek, then drifted back towards the room, and for a brief moment, Kess thought she caught something unfamiliar in his gaze¡ª like catching a stranger lurking inside of her brother. Of course, she thought, it¡¯s not like we know each other very well to begin with.


    Oliver had lived most of his life apart from Kess, sequestered away with her aunt and uncle¡ª a situation she¡¯d always found distinctly advantageous for her brother¡ª but a life spent far away from her own wild problems had resulted in a brother she barely knew. I¡¯m trying to fix it, she thought, fiddling with her drink. But how do I fix a relationship that¡¯s barely started? It seemed an impossible task, and Kess had never felt she was very good with people to begin with.


    Then it occurred to her¡ª the answer was right in front of her, wrapped up in her other problems.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± she said, meeting her brother¡¯s eyes. He blinked and looked away from the center of the tavern, surprised.


    ¡°Kess, I have a life here,¡± he said. ¡°A good one, but¡­¡± He trailed off, and held her eyes, seeming to work through some puzzle in his mind. ¡°We¡¯ve never really had the chance to do much together, have we?¡±


    Kess shook her head, smiling. ¡°I¡¯d also be safer with you along, wouldn¡¯t I?¡±


    Oliver rubbed at the stubble on his face, thinking. ¡°I suppose I could borrow a few of the contraptions at the university¡ª shelters and the like. You won¡¯t like how they¡¯re powered, though.¡±


    ¡°Fulminancy?¡± He nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll tolerate it if it¡¯ll get me out of the city.¡±


    Oliver regarded her with serious eyes for a few moments, as if trying to figure out her angle. After a few moments of silence, he nodded slowly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with you¡ª on one condition.¡±


    Kess frowned. ¡°I thought those were the conditions.¡±


    Oliver laughed and shook his head, then ducked down beside the booth to pull a small, wrapped package onto the table. ¡°This condition is more fun, I assure you,¡± he said, and pushed the package towards her. Wrapped in fine blue and silver silk, a silver ribbon cascaded away from the box, finer than most clothing Kess could afford. ¡°I got you a gift.¡±


    Kess pulled it towards her tentatively, marveling at the quality of the silk, and shook her head ruefully. Oliver could be awfully extravagant with their family¡¯s money, but without Kess or anyone else there to spend it, there was no real point in being miserly. Still, Kess had a hard time wasting good coin.


    ¡°If we¡¯re going to be on our own,¡± Oliver said as she gently pulled the ribbon off, ¡°I¡¯d like you to see what you can remember. See if you can¡¯t get it back, Kess.¡± His voice lowered, and he leaned forward as he spoke. ¡°Fulminancy would be useful between here and the next outpost, you know.¡±


    With a sinking feeling, Kess realized what her brother had done. The silk fell away, and a gorgeous wood slab appeared before her. She ran her hands over the checked pattern of the wood, obviously made by a master craftsman. As she did so, she found a catch at the bottom of the board, and flipped it to reveal a drawer. Tiny golden towers studded with rubies were lined up neatly in the drawer, and Kess took one out. She reluctantly snapped it to the board, where it stood without issue from a few well placed magnets in the bottom.


    ¡°Stormclap,¡± she said slowly, placing a few more of the pieces on the board. Oliver nodded eagerly. He took out a few more pieces, grinning, obviously unaffected by the sickness Kess now felt deep in her gut.


    ¡°This game¡¯s all the rage Uphill,¡± he said, placing a few more pieces with a snap. ¡°I had to go to four shops to find one with a board still in stock¡ª Fulminancers love the things. It¡¯s a game of strategy, supposedly, though I¡¯ve never had the chance to play it, given that I¡¯m, well¡­¡±


    ¡°Unaffected?¡± Kess offered. Oliver gave her a wry smile as he turned one of the pieces in his hands.


    ¡°Not gifted,¡± he said softly. ¡°In any case, I¡¯m told it requires an extreme amount of control. Master Fulminancers can play the game without issue, and can focus on the strategic elements of it. Novices have to work just to control their Fulminancy around the poles, but for that reason it¡¯s a great training tool.¡± He paused, then watched Kess as she pretended to study one of the little pegs. She was fairly certain she was probably a shade of green, and as she looked up, her brother¡¯s face softened a little further.


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, shrugging a little apologetically, ¡°I know it¡¯s not really your thing, but try it when you get home. We can take it with us when we leave.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Kess said, helping him gather the pegs from the board. ¡°I will.¡± She really was grateful for the gift¡ª it was a nice gesture, even if the idea of attempting to play the game made the hair on her arms stand up. She studied her brother¡¯s face as he helped her tuck the board away in its silk bag. ¡°You¡¯ll really come with? You mean it?¡±


    Oliver nodded, moving to stand. Kess glanced at the clock across the room¡ª her brother was embarrassingly late to the late night class he ran at the university. ¡°I¡¯ll be there,¡± he said. ¡°Provided you find a way out of the city in the first place.¡±


    Kess nodded sullenly and sat back in the booth as her brother left, but he turned to regard her again.


    ¡°And Kess?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Make sure you win tomorrow night,¡± he said. ¡°You seem to have a penchant for¡­losing.¡±


    Kess narrowed her eyes at her brother, then shook her head.


    ¡°Not this time.¡±

 Chapter 10: A Penchant for Losing

    The trip Downhill was easier than it had been Uphill. No one checked her credentials, and indeed, the guards did very little to verify who she was at all, besides a few choice glances at her backside. She kept the silk-wrapped Stormclap board clutched tightly to her chest and half jogged back home, her path a maze of endless staircases shrouded in swirling fog.


    An hour later, Kess sat in her barren apartment, the Stormclap board lined up carefully on her pocked and marked table, smooth with age. The quality and craftsmanship of the game seemed at odds with the less handsome wood beneath it.


    Kess twirled one of the towers in her hand as she sat on the floor, barefoot, and listened to the Drystorm wind rattle and vibrate her small home. In other homes, she¡¯d been worried about the gales that sometimes flattened homes out of existence¡ª Gasps, the Downhill called them. Here, she¡¯d paid for sturdier beams, though that pay didn¡¯t seem to extend to extra room in the home. It was a far cry from what her life Uphill had been, but there was tranquility in simplicity.


    No glaring lights, she thought. No extravagance, no people, and no expectations. Just¡­silence. Silence, simplicity, and¡­her Fulminancy. Kess stared at that board for a very long time, the rubies of the game board pieces twinkling incriminatingly in the low light.


    In Hillcrest, Fulminancy was everything. Even the more fortunate Duds were doomed to live their lives surrounded by powers that were far more likely to result in death than fame, at least to Kess¡¯s way of thinking. And yet life continued.


    Men and women fought with Fulminancy for fame and glory, but they also healed with it. Fulminancy was so well-versed at mapping out the human nervous system that it was quite common for paralyzed people to walk again, with the right treatments. Even the storms that constantly threatened Hillcrest in a cycle of tempest, rain, and lightning were said to be weaker from the hard work and research of a few Fulminancers. Even now, that damnable Uphill man used Fulminancy for light of all things. Hillcrest had long ago learned to adapt to Fulminancy, so why couldn¡¯t she?


    She snapped another piece to the board, thinking. She tried to imagine that crackling lightning running through her body again, raw with untamed potential. Instead, all she could hear were her own screams. She flinched, nearly dropping another piece onto the board.


    And that was when she realized something¡ª her Fulminancy wasn¡¯t going away. Fulminancy would continue to haunt her, even if she managed to leave Hillcrest. It would follow her into the mountains, a phantom as real as the one who followed her through the city if she didn¡¯t learn to master it. Oliver¡¯s presence would complicate things, though she was glad to have him along¡ª his safety was one more thing she risked if she refused to learn it.


    Sighing, Kess turned towards the board. Maybe, like Oliver said, she could use it to hone some control. It had been years since Kess had even bothered to bring that power to the surface, though it was a lie to say it was gone entirely. She could still feel it crawling beneath her skin, like a beast prowling just below the surface of the water, waiting for an opportune moment. If she could control it, then perhaps she wouldn¡¯t need to leave Hillcrest at all. Maybe the city would have another life left to offer her.


    She placed a single, trembling finger over one of the pegs on the board. Her heart pounded in her ears, harsh and loud against the soothing noises of wood creaking. Warmth crept into her chilled hands, and a sort of low vibration. Slowly, a white-blue glow surrounded her fingers, and that harsh, crackling lightning emerged.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Kess gasped, fighting not to scramble back as that power emerged. Her stomach churned as she tried to hold it back, but it continued forward all the same. It crackled between pegs, lighting up each on the board in turn, then spread from there, snapping into the walls and the furniture.


    That did make Kess move. She flipped the board in her haste, and the pegs snapped away like shrapnel, embedding themselves in the wood nearby. A few cracked towards Kess, and she ducked behind a chair. She yelped as one bit into her cheek anyway.


    Board blown apart, her Fulminancy looked for new targets and found it in the beams of the house. Wood began to crack and smoke, and the beams overhead groaned. Panicking, Kess made her way to the door, trying to think of a way to stop it.


    She forced her fist closed, willing it to go away, but the Fulminancy paid no mind. There has to be a way to stop it, she thought. Everyone else manages it, so why can¡¯t I?


    Another piece of wood cracked as power slammed against it, insistent. This had always been the problem with Kess¡¯s Fulminancy¡ª there was no way to stop it reliably. Tricks that worked with other Fulminancers failed to make a dent in her own gulf of power that now threatened to destroy her entire home.


    And there was that other problem.


    Sometimes Fulminancy exploded.


    As if from a dream, Kess remembered that parlor from a week ago. They hadn¡¯t even found the charred corpses of the men and women inside, the destruction had been so complete.


    By the light of her Fulminancy crackling around her, Kess stuffed her few belongings into a bag and darted out of the front door as the snaps and pops of her powers grew louder and more insistent.


    No sooner than she was out the front door did a particularly deep thump ensue, and her Fulminancy snapped up into the sky through the roof. A whump of air and a hot blast knocked her into the streets. Wooden shrapnel followed, and Kess ducked behind a storm shelter across the street as the remnants of her home pelted the reinforced wall.


    Her Fulminancy left, a warmth that crept out of her hands and core, leaving her shaking and shivering from its absence. Tentatively, she leaned around the storm shelter, bag dangling awkwardly from her shoulder. Warmth crept down her cheek.


    Several of her neighbors poked their heads out, surveying the damage. A few muttered something about a rogue Lightstorm, but the sharper ones turned eyes towards Kess, crouched behind the wooden barrier. Those would go to the Witchblades, of course, if they weren¡¯t already on their way. Perhaps Fulminancy was legal Downhill, but that didn¡¯t mean that residents wanted a rogue Fulminancer living on their doorstep.


    Kess¡¯s home hadn¡¯t fared well¡ª or at all, really. There was nothing left but a smoldering, charred ruin, the embers crackling up to the sky and shifting away in waves with the Drystorm winds. Kess gripped the side of the shelter with white knuckles.


    Her instincts had been right years ago. Fulminancy meant death¡ª both for herself and anyone close to her. She shook her head, surveying the smoldering wreck. If I take Oliver I subject him to this, she thought. I put him at risk, and for what? As much as she wanted her brother with her, she couldn¡¯t do it. She couldn¡¯t put her only family at risk with her powers. She would have to leave him behind, even though it tore her in half to consider it.


    Something crashed in the ruins¡ª the sturdy wooden beams she had paid extra for twisted into pieces in the fire, their fall sending up a fresh plume of hot ash and flame. In that flame, Kess felt just a tiny ember spark within her.


    Perhaps she was too destructive to live a life in Hillcrest, but she would win tomorrow¡ª if nothing else, so she could be rid of these responsibilities for good. Fulminancy would have a hard time with nothing to destroy but Kess.


    When her neighbors¡¯ glares got to be too much, Kess took one final look at her home and walked into the night.

 Chapter 11: Dud

    Rowan didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d expected when he moved Downhill, but he certainly hadn¡¯t expected the lower city to feel so¡­alive. Lanterns bloomed to life as he made his way through the twisting and winding streets, and the avenues transformed before him as a low fog rolled in and children darted between the adults, laughing. Down here his Fulminant lights were still relatively sparse. That will change soon, he thought, hiding a smile. He¡¯d given Cashin further information on his prototypes this afternoon, as well as some of his ideas on how to expand the concept. Soon not even the Downhill would use traditional lamps.


    Some shops were shuttered with Fulminant wards¡ª protective magic purchased from licensed Uphill citizens¡ª but many stayed open late into the night, especially during Drystorm season. The wind occasionally blew entire stands over, but it was something the Downhill citizens took in stride, laughing and joking as they chased down portions of their destroyed shops. Between flooding, fire damage, and a blown away awning, Rowan supposed he¡¯d prefer the latter as well.


    Rowan followed the streets into Bloodring, a nicer neighborhood not far from Uphill. The Archives cleaved the city in two, and book shops spilled out around the gargantuan building even as scholars hurried through the fog, piles of tomes in hand. Rowan approached one that had a reputation for keeping tomes in stock that other shops found distasteful.


    Some were worried about offending Mariel¡¯s followers, while others tried to stay clear of those who worshiped Fanas or Faleas. In Rowan¡¯s estimation, the original Seats had just been people, but he wasn¡¯t foolish enough to admit that out loud. If anything, Fanas¡ª mother of the Ashfall¡ª seemed to him the most appropriate deity to appease. After all, city destroying storms certainly seemed like something to avoid.


    A sign hung on the door suggesting that all sash colors were welcome, though the owner¡¯s gruff countenance seemed at odds with the sign. Rowan pushed open the reinforced doors into the shop itself and breathed in the smell of paper and ink. He still found it odd to go into a shop himself. Years of living Uphill meant he was used to servants running errands for the family, though his father had kept very few of them. He made his way to the counter, trying not to pause at the shelves on the way. Arlette would have his head if he was late again, especially with so much money on the line.


    A balding man looked up from a book and scowled at him through his spectacles. Rowan tried a tentative smile, but the frown only deepened.


    ¡°Apologies for interrupting you, but I sent for a book awhile back. It was¡ª¡°


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± the man said, waving at him dismissively. Rowan wondered if the man knew who he was. The scowl would certainly indicate that he did. The man pushed up his glasses, snagging a paper from the desk. ¡°I believe it was called Genetic Acquisition of Fulminancy: A History of Elemental Transfer.¡± He lowered his glasses and looked at Rowan pointedly. ¡°The Council banned this title before you were born, son.¡±


    Rowan leaned over the counter, frowning at the list. ¡°And the others?¡± he asked hopefully. The man looked out the window, as if watching for someone, then shook his head.


    ¡°All banned as well. Clouds, boy, if you keep asking for these kinds of things you¡¯re going to end up in an alleyway somewhere, if the Council doesn¡¯t get to you first¡ª though I suppose you¡¯ve already been disinherited, so what¡¯s the worst they can do?¡± Rowan sighed inwardly, hiding his disappointment. Still, it was hard for anything to completely dampen his mood with the other successes he¡¯d been having.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he told the man, standing to leave. ¡°And thank you for the warning.¡± The man just shook his head, muttering something about Rowan¡¯s meddling ways, and returned to his reading. Rowan sometimes made for bad business, and the shopkeeper was probably glad to see him go.


    Outside, Rowan paused in the street for a moment, marveling at the blue glow of the Uphill above him as buildings peeked in and out of the fog, ephemeral and otherwordly. Some of his green lights even dotted the mix. Fulminancy Uphill was more prevalent than it was down here, and citizens used it in a decorative fashion. Downhill, the Fulminancy was limited to guarded shop doors and windows, though only the wealthiest merchants could afford such luxury. It was worth the money both to deter thieves and to appear upscale enough to attract wealthier customers.


    He wandered up to a shop window selling children¡¯s toys, the tops and cheap Stormclap boards hard to make out under the crackling blue energy of the Fulminant wards over the window. Rowan stared at that crackling energy for a moment, marveling at its inherent power.


    What would it be like to feel that power crackling within his veins? He swore he could almost feel it, a distant, pulsing well deep within him, but when he reached for it¡ª


    Nothing.


    His father was Fulminant. His mother was Fulminant. Both of his brothers were Fulminant.


    Rowan was a Dud.


    He stuck his hand into the crackling Fulminancy around a shop window, and it snuffed out briefly before buzzing back to life. Several women gave him a wide berth, their eyes wide as they passed.


    Worse than a Dud, Rowan was cursed. Where he went, Fulminancy left. The very thing he chased defied him at every turn. He sighed and turned to look Downhill, over the amber lights of the lower city, each one twinkling in the twilight, a blooming warmth in the low clouds.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    He¡¯d been cast out years ago by his family, but there was a certain charm to being the underdog, he supposed. He was a Dud, but he wasn¡¯t useless¡ª his success with his experiments proved that much, at least. He would find some way to get to the bottom of his problem, though life would certainly be easier if he wasn¡¯t seen as someone to be avoided. And if he could find some way to fix himself, then perhaps even his family could be persuaded to listen to him again. There¡¯s just the minor issue of there being no historical precedent at all for regaining Fulminancy, Rowan thought bitterly. He pushed the thought aside. He would find a way. In action there was hope.


    Rowan made his way Uphill into the Redhill District, one tier down from his former home, the Drystorm whipping his dark curls around his head as he climbed. It was odd these days to ascend the streets instead of descend¡ª he wasn¡¯t exactly welcome back home¡ª but Arlette¡¯s fight cards needed approval. Rowan himself wouldn¡¯t be betting, but he was interested in the fighter, at least. As he climbed, it appeared that the city was just as interested as he was.


    ¡°She¡¯ll get absolutely thrashed,¡± a young man said as he passed. ¡°Would be a fool to bet on her, but clouds, it¡¯ll be fun to watch.¡±


    Rowan doubted that. He found the whole business of the rings distasteful, really, though Hillcrest was hellbent on watching men and women toss each other to the ground. It was almost a form of religion, to the point that fights outside designated rings¡ª even petty squabbles¡ª were subject to interrogation by Blueblades and the Council alike. He supposed it was a good way to allow social mobility, since sashes could be gained or lost through performance in the rings, which was better than money or bribes. The rings, at least, could allow someone from nothing at all to eventually rise to an Uphill rank¡ª provided they had hidden talent for Fulminancy. Uphill and Downhill fights were distinct from one another, however¡ª Fulminancy was its own weight class.


    Plateaus passed and the sky darkened as Rowan climbed, his legs welcoming the activity after so long cooped up inside. He longed to spar with his sword. The sword was one thing¡ª elegant, clean, an art form in and of itself. Ring fighting¡ª particularly in the Downhill districts¡ª just seemed barbaric. Without the glow of Fulminancy, the snap and the beauty of it echoing off the ring, how could anyone even tell who was winning? Did they just choose the bloodiest man or woman and move on with the day?


    He shook his head as he turned onto a widened street, a giant plaza stretching before him, the tiles well-maintained and the buildings shining. The fighting had never made sense to him, but like it or not, that¡¯s where his paycheck came from, whether he worked for Cashin or Arlette.


    Heads turned as he made his way towards the large arena, a round whitewashed building stretching into the night sky, lit by lanterns and Fulminant lights alike in the Drystorm twilight.


    ¡°Northmont¡¯s son,¡± one woman whispered. ¡°What¡¯s he doing back up here? I thought his father had sent him away.¡± Rowan rolled his eyes at that. Hillcrest was a sprawling city, but it was still just a city. It was hard to send him much of anywhere without insisting that he die in the mountains surrounding their home.


    He wove his way through the crowd surrounding the arena, and made his way to the gambling windows. It was easier than it should have been, as people gave him a wide berth; no one wanted to be associated with the Northmont family¡¯s Dud.


    Something caught his eye as he walked up to the booth¡ª a glowing green prototype of his own making, strung above the ticket counter. The counter itself and the surrounding people were painted a sickly pallor, but Rowan couldn¡¯t help but smile anyway. The middle aged woman behind the counter gave him a double take, her shrewd eyes narrowing as she recognized Rowan.


    ¡°Northmont,¡± she said, stamping a paper. Her hair was just beginning to gray at the edges.


    ¡°I¡¯m fairly certain my father won¡¯t allow me to use the family name anymore,¡± Rowan said, leaning towards the window. ¡°And in any case, I¡¯m not here on his business, or my own.¡± He pushed Arlette¡¯s betting cards through the window. ¡°My client wants in on the fight tomorrow night.¡± The woman took the cards, thumbed through them, and frowned.


    ¡°These are all for the Downhill girl¡ª Kess, I think her name is. What¡¯s your client playing at?¡± Rowan shrugged, feigning ignorance.


    ¡°It¡¯s not my business to question my client¡¯s wishes,¡± Rowan said smoothly, meeting the woman¡¯s eyes. ¡°Far be it from me to deny a woman her desires.¡± He winked at the older woman, who rolled her eyes, stamping the betting cards decisively.


    ¡°Save it for someone your own age, lad,¡± she said, handing him the cards back. ¡°I¡¯ll warn you, though¡ª we don¡¯t run any of those fixed fights up here. This is a respectable ring. If your mistress thinks she¡¯s about to make money off of dishonesty, she¡¯ll be sorely mistaken.¡±


    Rowan paused, cards in hand, then turned back towards the counter. ¡°Are there any odd rumors about this fight?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Here now lad, it¡¯s not my place to speculate, but¡ª¡°


    The woman cut off as something rocked the ground beneath them. The vibrations nearly threw Rowan off his feet, and he stuck out a hand to catch himself on the ticket booth before he pitched face first into it. The glass panes rattled, and overhead, Rowan¡¯s prototype swung with a creak.


    ¡°Clouds above,¡± the woman said, squinting at the horizon. ¡°That had better not be another parlor. Fanas knows we¡¯ve seen enough of that kind of tragedy for one week.¡± She shooed Rowan away, adjusting her glasses and a few reams of paper within the booth. ¡°Save your speculation for another, boy¡ª I¡¯ve got a man to get home to.¡±


    Rowan let the now agitated crowd wash around him, arguing and chattering, as he took a moment to orient himself. His sense of direction could have been better, but it was hard to get lost with all of Downhill spreading out before him on multiple tiers of plateaus. There, several levels below, a dark plume of smoke rose from a neighborhood. Rowan couldn¡¯t see which home it was attached to, but he had a sinking feeling he knew which. He left the lights of the Uphill behind and made his way back home as fast as his legs could carry him.


    Not long later, Rowan stood in what was left of a doorway as he surveyed the charred remains of his workshop. The door had been blown off its hinges into the street, sending shrapnel with it. His prototypes were glass shards on the ground, years of careful experiments an already distant memory. He crouched on the blackened ground, leaning on the doorway for support.


    It was all gone.


    And with it, Rowan¡¯s chances for a future.

 Chapter 12: Enemies and Envelopes

    Oliver wasn¡¯t home the afternoon of Kess¡¯s fight. She stood in the waning afternoon light and pounded against her brother¡¯s thick door again, bag in hand. In spite of their family¡¯s money, Oliver¡¯s home was a quaint thing¡ª he spent more time studying than lounging at home, as he put it. Kess was oddly grateful for his propriety; she didn¡¯t want anyone to wonder where Oliver got his money from.


    A few passerby in the whitewashed streets of the Uphill hurried by, staring at her and whispering. Kess did little to hide her irritation. After the disaster with her own home, she¡¯d stayed at Draven¡¯s, and the tavern noise through thin walls had kept her up most of the night. She wanted to be done with this business with Oliver and out of the city by nightfall¡ª provided the fight went her way.


    Where is he? She thought with frustration. Oliver was a man known for his habits, and while Kess rarely visited him, his schedule was simple enough to memorize. He spent the mornings at the university, but he often came home for a late afternoon nap of all things. Still, he usually answered the door, albeit reluctantly.


    Kess was about to give up her search and blame the relatively nice weather of Drystorm season when she noticed something odd in the garden. The soft, loamy ground was turned up in a few spots, as if large boots had raked across the grass in a violent way. Kess frowned and crouched in the garden.


    With Floodstorm season still a ways off, the ground was subtly broken, but broken all the same. But Oliver never comes outside, she thought, following the trail with her eyes towards the back of his home. Oliver preferred to stay out of the constant muck of any non-paved Hillcrest surfaces, and if given a choice between the paving stones of a path or the mushy ground, the man would hop stones like a child rather than soil his fine boots.


    The trail ended at Oliver¡¯s back door, which was slightly ajar. Kess knocked again and called out, but only the rustle of the Drystorm breeze met her ears. Heart pounding, she unearthed a few tiny throwing daggers from her bag, grateful for Oliver¡¯s tall walls in the garden. Few would recognize her Uphill, but word would spread of someone using a blade, especially in a neighborhood as respectable as Oliver¡¯s.


    Kess crept forward, but paused at the doorway. Tiny marks the size and shape of fingernails pocked the surface, and Kess¡¯s stomach dropped slightly.


    Inside, the signs of a struggle were easily visible; overturned chairs and piles of books littered the ground in a haphazard manner. A few flecks of blood stained the wooden floors, though in such a small quantity that it was likely just a bloody nose. Kess had seen much worse during her time in Downhill rings, though something inside of her twisted at the idea of her academic brother, bloodied and bruised. Oliver was no fighter¡ª so who had come to take advantage of that fact?


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Kess checked the tiny kitchen and bedroom, but most of the damage had taken place in the sitting room and study. She paused there, tucking her daggers away, and grasped for some sort of explanation, her mind reeling with shock.


    Did he have enemies? She wondered. Did he make some kind of bad deal with someone? She shook her head. Oliver was no businessman¡ª he was a simple scholar¡ª and though Kess¡¯s understanding of his research was rudimentary at best, it didn¡¯t seem to be controversial. In fact, Oliver¡¯s studies were mundane enough to put Kess to sleep.


    She sunk down to the floor with a thud, stunned, and absently moved a few books aside. None gave her the answers she was looking for. All had seemed normal last night when Kess had spoken to him, so why¡­


    Kess paused as she moved another tome aside. This one was thick, unwieldy, and mind-numbingly boring, but she let out a hiss of air when she saw the charred mark on the floorboard beneath¡ª the telltale, jagged, twisting branches of Fulminancy, seared into the wood. She sat back, stunned, then saw a few more marks against the wall, carefully tucked behind a supposedly flipped chair. The upended table hid a few more, and the piles of books, papers, and other miscellaneous items hid more.


    Kess¡¯s hands shook as she pushed herself to her feet. No, she thought, shaking her head. I was so careful. She¡¯d stayed away from Oliver for years. Their meetings were sparse at best¡ª she barely knew the man¡ª and Kess had been sure to never reveal any sort of relationship with him.


    To make matters more baffling, Kess wasn¡¯t even certain anyone knew who she was anymore. She¡¯d died that night¡ª she was certain of it. And yet¡­


    She¡¯d thought the Fulminant Shadow who followed her around the city was unrelated to the Council, but what if she was wrong? What if they¡¯d already found her, and she¡¯d been living with a knife pressed to her neck all this time?


    Kess trailed over to the study, where several piles of paper had been thrown against the wall to hide the Fulminant marks on the wall. The desk was no better. She pushed aside a few tomes, still looking for answers, though she felt she would find none here.


    A few envelopes surfaced¡ª one bearing the name and address of a man Kess thought she recognized from Oliver¡¯s animated chatter about his studies. Rowan of Northmont. The name tickled something at the back of her mind, though she¡¯d been gone from Uphill for so long that it was likely just the name of one of the foppish young men that often attended court. The address was somewhere in Redring district, not particularly far from her former home, though on a much nicer street. That much was odd; there were few people born Uphill who would suffer the Downhill at all. Maybe Oliver got involved with a bad crowd, she thought.


    She pocketed the envelope on a whim and gave the place one last glance. Suddenly her escape from the city seemed further than ever. She couldn¡¯t leave Hillcrest behind if the Council had taken Oliver. She¡¯d been wrong to assume her brother¡¯s safety.


    Somehow, they¡¯d figured out the connection.


    Her family was at the Council¡¯s whims once again.

 Chapter 13: A Gift and a Curse

    The Redhill District was lavishly decorated with clean, whitewashed stone which reflected the light from artisan lanterns placed on every corner, home, and shop. The light pooled in every crevice and alleyway, and in some places, reflected off the low clouds of the Drystorm. Here, no one worried about incoming gales in their sturdy homes, subtly lined with Fulminant energy for strength. The streets were kept immaculately clean, polished and shining with pride that was hard to fake.


    Kess stuck out like a sore thumb.


    Exhaustion tugged at her senses as she trudged towards the arena. She¡¯d begun her usual pre-fight ritual of trying to clear her mind multiple times now, and yet it simply wouldn¡¯t take. Her fears and worries spun mercilessly in her mind, a vortex threatening to drag her under. Her home, gone at her hands. Her brother, missing. And now, she¡¯d be forced to choose: win the upcoming fight and acknowledge her Fulminancy, or stick to her deal with Mattes and remain a relatively unknown¡ª but highly paid¡ª Bloodcrawler.


    She nervously turned an errant Stormclap pin in her hand¡ª one from the board she¡¯d blown to pieces the night before. This one had been wedged in the side of her heavy canvas bag and Kess found it fortunate that it wasn¡¯t in her skull instead. Still, she kept it with her. Oliver had obviously paid a lot of money for the board, and now that he was gone, this was all she had left of him.


    Kess was tempted to not fight at all, but she needed the money; she¡¯d tied up the Silverhill family money with her brother long ago, all in an effort to remain dead. That effort seemed in vain now, but it also left her with a very practical problem¡ª she was penniless without Mattes¡¯s scheduled fights. Throwing this fight would give her the funds to lie low while she searched for her brother, at least.


    Equally tempting, however, was winning. Kess was horrified by the idea, but had to admit that there was some wisdom behind it. Winning the fight wouldn¡¯t make her popular, but it could potentially make her Fulminant¡ª in an official manner of speaking, anyway. A tiny spark would cause scandal, but a blue sash might give her more freedom to move around in the city¡ª provided she wasn¡¯t somehow recognized first.


    She just wasn¡¯t sure she could muster up a spark without blowing the entire arena to bits.


    Kess tugged her bag closer to her body, the weight of the day threatening to close in around her. The idea of leaving Hillcrest now was ludicrous. Gone were her dreams of freedom, at least while her brother was somewhere in chains. Sash or not, she wouldn¡¯t be visiting the city guards tonight. Sighing, she skulked down a nearby alleyway to the side of a gaudily lit building.


    She entered a side door, wincing as a few early revelers shoved past her small frame. A wall of sound hit her, the screaming mostly off color even in a neighborhood so wealthy. Though the door opened into a servant¡¯s hallway, it offered an unobstructed view of the arena within, packed to the brim with people. Kess¡¯s eyes drifted towards the arena itself, where two Fulminant fighters were already in the ring.


    No powers were on display, but nearly every fighter in the building would be Fulminant. The Council encouraged rings like this specifically to seek out Fulminant powers that might belong to the Seats. High energy, emotional situations often caused an outburst of Fulminant powers, particularly if the user wasn¡¯t particularly experienced, and the Council made sure that only highborn families were experienced. Bastards were rooted out quickly and made to disappear. It would have kept many citizens out of the rings, but the money and prestige, unfortunately, were too good to ignore.


    The match below was not going well for one of the girls¡ª a red and black sash with no hint of a stripe that would have marked her for a Downhill citizen. She had already taken several blows to the head during the time Kess watched, and it was only getting worse. A missed punch exposed the side of her head, and the red sashed girl wasted no time slamming her knuckles into the side of the other woman¡¯s face. The blow alone would have been enough to put many on the ground, but miraculously, the woman remained standing.


    Kess squinted at the arena, a look of distaste on her face. This was a typical fight, but something was wrong. Red sash began to back away slowly, though her opponent was all but through anyway. She didn¡¯t close in for the victory, but instead looked nervously at the referee, as if expecting something.


    The interference she was looking for never came, but something else did.


    Covered in blood, chest heaving, the losing girl began to shake violently, and a crackling sound echoed throughout the arena. Some of the audience up front began to regret their chosen seating and fled for higher ground as twisting blue energy left the girl in a burst of light and a snarl of thunder. Though the other girl was likely Fulminant herself, she had no time to put up a proper defense, if indeed, she had been trained with her powers at all. The arc of light snapped into her body, throwing her across the arena with a sickening crack.


    She didn¡¯t move. Red branches from the strike wormed their way across the woman¡¯s skin, and the crowd went quiet. An acrid smell filled the room. Kess unconsciously put a hand to her own stinging cheek.


    ¡°Well that was unexpected!¡± An announcer, his voice booming across the arena. ¡°Looks like we have a new champ today, folks!¡± The crowd cheered, the violence all but forgotten, and Kess tore her eyes from the arena, making her way to the waiting area.


    A single bead of sweat wormed its way down her back as she changed from her simple trousers and button up shirt into an even simpler sleeveless shirt with shorter trousers. There was no point to modesty¡ª not with half the crowd there to simply gawk.


    Kess took a deep, shuddering breath of the musty air in the simple wooden chamber where she waited. The doorway was distinctly missing a door, and Kess didn¡¯t miss the sight of the losing girl being carried down the hallway by a group of people. An acrid smell filled the air, but there was another stench that was hard to misplace¡ª death. Kess¡¯s heart skipped a beat. You¡¯ve survived against the Fulminant before, she reminded herself. You¡¯ll do it again.


    Mattes poked his head in, looking disheveled as always, but his personal hygiene had taken an unpleasant tumble down the side of the mountain tonight. The tang of his sweat filled the air before Kess, but there was also a tinge of manic excitement to his movements as he wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.


    ¡°Do you remember our conversation yesterday?¡± he asked, smiling pleasantly at another passing handler. Kess joined him as they approached the ring. She crossed her arms, rolling her ankle as she watched the arena from the shadows.


    ¡°Don¡¯t screw up is all I recall you saying,¡± she replied. Mattes loomed over her, which wasn¡¯t hard to do given her small stature.


    ¡°Don¡¯t play games with me. If you don¡¯t make this loss convincing, I¡¯ll keep your sorry ass drowning in debt for so long that you¡¯ll wish the Fulminant had killed you.¡±


    ¡°Like I¡¯m going to have to fake my loss to monsters like that,¡± she snorted. Mattes waved his hands, dismissing her.


    ¡°Just remember what you¡¯re getting paid for.¡± He stared just a little too long at the payment table, where several stacks of gold were piled high in sacks. By Kess¡¯s estimation, even Mattes¡¯s greedy deal paled in comparison to the winner¡¯s pool. But of course, no one¡ª not Mattes or Kess¡ª expected Kess to walk away from the ring in one piece, let alone as the winner.


    Fulminant magic was frowned on in Downhill rings, but the Uphill was a different story; here Fulminancy was fair game. Many nobleman waited until matches grew desperate to use it¡ª partly because of the spectacle, and partly because the powers themselves were exhausting and hard to control¡ª but no referee would call the match if Fulminancy came out to play. It was a gift and a curse, and a blessing that Kess very much did not have.


    Kess¡¯s match was announced, and she found her feet moving automatically towards the ring. Fighting was something she had done for years, for survival, as a way to chase away the demons that haunted her every night.


    Tonight was different, somehow. There was a sense of finality to her movements, a heightened awareness in the rough scratch of her clothing or in the damp, cloying smell of the arena, crammed with people.


    Match officials checked her for weapons, their touch not at all subtle against her barely clothed skin. A few of them, at least, had the presence of mind to look slightly guilty as they looked between her and her approaching opponent.


    Kess followed their gazes as her opponent was announced, and nearly left the arena right then. She had been promised an inexperienced opponent, and that was no lie, but her opponent wasn¡¯t just inexperienced, but nearly estranged from her family due to her explosive inability to control her Fulminancy.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Moreen of Rottwood was not a stable woman, and though her noble birth should have indicated plenty of training to go with her powers, her family mostly sequestered her away in the mountains after a few training sessions gone awry. It wasn¡¯t an uncommon occurrence with Uphill families with a reputation to keep. What she was doing in a Fulminant arena was anyone¡¯s guess.


    One of the arena officials¡ª the one who had looked sorry for her¡ª spoke next to her shoulder. ¡°Sorry lot, that family. Some few nobles think that fights can shock ¡®em into controlling themselves, but I¡¯ve never seen no such thing.¡± He clapped Kess on the shoulder. ¡°Sorry, lass.¡± He looked genuinely sorry. ¡°Best of luck to ye.¡±


    Kess stood there for a moment, stunned. Fulminant or not, nothing could protect her from someone as out of control as Moreen of all people. Her only recourse would be to blow the entire arena¡ª a feat she wasn¡¯t so keen to repeat after the disaster of last night. Kess was suddenly very grateful for her empty stomach.


    She divested herself of her boots and climbed immaculate steps into the ring itself, the stones freshly washed to get rid of the blood of the previous match. She cracked her neck and tried to muster up some sort of confidence. She felt at home in the ring, with its blood, blows, and the crack of her own body against another, but this was different. This was death staring her down.


    Moreen held her herself high, but her instability was on plain display; she was trim and fit, but Kess didn¡¯t miss the slight tremor of her fingers and the white-hot, blue light that crackled there. Worse, her eyes were terrified, like a small animal backed into a corner.


    The bell rang, the crowd screamed, and Kess¡¯s opponent charged. Kess blinked, feet moving automatically. She barely missed being clobbered by her opponent¡¯s early punch. Too fast. Moreen was faster than any human had a right to be.


    She met Moreen¡¯s eyes as she blocked another punch, trying to bait her into blocking as she swung a kick at the girl¡¯s side. There was insanity there, yes, but there was also a flare of determination. This was likely Moreen¡¯s last chance, and to be thrown out of her Fulminant family and into the streets would mean death at the hands of her own powers. This was a woman here for survival, and Kess stood very firmly in her way.


    Moreen didn¡¯t take her bait. She took advantage of Kess¡¯s partially dropped guard from the kick, slamming her fist into the side of Kess¡¯s face where the Fulminant bruise was still flowering. Kess winced, tasting blood as new Fulminancy crackled its way through the old wound. She righted herself quickly, faking a punch to her opponent¡¯s face and slamming that same punch into her gut instead. Moreen faltered for a second, and Kess capitalized on her distraction to land another blow to the side of her face.


    Kess grinned, the thrill of the fight finding its way back into her bones in spite of the gravity of the situation. Moreen was well trained, but no fighter. And Kess, small though she was, had taken blows like that for years. It gave her a distinct advantage against the noblewoman.


    I could win, she realized, slipping another too-fast punch from Moreen to plow another fist into her side. She followed it up with a knee to the woman¡¯s gut. Rhythm now dictated Kess¡¯s movements, years of muscle memory giving her fluidity and grace in spite of her opponent¡¯s speed. The despair that usually accompanied her movements was lost, replaced by a thrill of hope, rushing through her veins and granting her strength she didn¡¯t know she had. I could win.


    Moreen was covered in her own blood now, Kess having split her nose open several moments earlier. The girl¡¯s chest heaved, and her eyes were unsteady as she circled Kess. Mattes screamed from the side of the ring, but Kess couldn¡¯t hear him. Her eyes locked on the bag of gold on the table, and beyond that, a flutter of movement high up in the arena¡ª the cloaked Shadow from the night before.


    Mood suddenly grave, Kess approached her opponent with a kick. She didn¡¯t care anymore that she should lose. She¡¯d lost for years. Running. Fleeing. Hiding. She hated who she was, but didn¡¯t she deserve victory just once? Didn¡¯t she deserve to put just one Fulminancer in their place? Moreen had trainers, but Kess had done all of this herself out of a desperate urge to survive. Why should Moreen win? Why didn¡¯t Kess deserve victory, just this once?


    Moreen took her kick with a weak block that took away none of the ferocity Kess threw into the blow. It was a blow forged with all of the anger she carried against herself, the Fulminant, and everything they had done to her. Time stood still as she planted her foot into Moreen, the crowd¡¯s roar fading into a dull buzz in Kess¡¯s ears.


    Moreen flew across the arena, and Kess heard a sickening crack as her opponent hit the wall. Thunder rumbled overhead, threatening another Drystorm outside, far from the bloody arena where Kess made her stand.


    Moreen didn¡¯t stand. Her chest heaved, sucking air into lungs that Kess had just brutalized with her blow. Kess¡¯s own breathing rasped in her ears as the crowd screamed its disapproval. Kess wiped sweat from her brow, and found the cloaked figure high above the ring. She could have sworn she saw a smile and a nod of approval.


    Still, something was wrong. The announcer kept commenting, and no handlers entered the ring. Kess glanced back at Moreen, stomach twisting, cold immediately creeping its way into her fingers.


    Crackling Fulminant energy emanated from the girl on the ground, sucking the light out of the air itself as Moreen clenched a single fist. Lightning arced its way up her arm, twisting like a living, breathing thing throughout the girl¡¯s body, resting as a light blue fire in the girl¡¯s formerly dark brown eyes. Kess wasn¡¯t a coward, but what she saw made her take a single step backwards. She blinked away memories as they assaulted her, threatening to take away her poise.


    Then, in the back of her mind, she felt a tiny prickle of power open its eye in response to Moreen¡¯s. She panicked and pushed it down. She wouldn¡¯t win with Fulminancy. She wouldn¡¯t become one of them to secure her victory.


    But as that power churned around Moreen, Kess was less certain of her choice. Using Fulminancy would end her career Downhill, yes, but worse than that, it would be the beginning of a series of broken promises. And yet, living was certainly tempting.


    I won¡¯t do it again, she thought, scrambling back. Not even to survive? Another, nastier voice whispered in her head.


    Moreen got to her feet slowly, the crowd roaring its approval behind her. There was no more logic or steady determination in her eyes as the Fulminancy snapped around her, lifting tresses of her hair.


    It was then that Kess broke a promise to herself.


    She reached inside, trying to steady her breathing. Just this once, she told herself. An energy beckoned inside, calming and steadying as the Drystorm winds. She reached inside, and felt it, a writhing tendril of power behind which sat enough Fulminancy to leave nothing but ashes behind.


    Something snapped in her hands¡ª a tiny flash. The crowd swore and booed as Kess felt that well of power spilling over, overwhelming and damning. A split second later, she snapped off her connection to that yawning power.


    Panicking, Kess rolled to the side as Moreen¡¯s blue hiss of energy slammed past her face and into the side of the reinforced ring. Her dodge only barely took her out of the path, and her shoulder sliced open with a tearing pain that she found hard to ignore. Blood, warm and sticky, mingled with her sweat, stinging as it trickled down her body.


    This was no longer about winning¡ª it was about surviving. Kess dodged blow after blow, but she couldn¡¯t escape all of them. Fulminancy slammed into her side, landing there with a crack. Her thigh was sliced open with another sharp blow, and Moreen, likely playing with her food, added another crackling wound to Kess¡¯s cheek from the day before.


    Kess stood, her limbs shaking and her breath coming in wet rasps, but without Fulminancy, her mind was devoid of a plan. It was dodge or be killed, but how much longer could she keep it up? Moreen¡¯s attacks were less controlled than they¡¯d ever been. There was only so much room in the ring to dodge.


    There has to be a way, she thought. A way out without Fulminancy.


    Her opponent stopped in the middle of the room, Fulminancy swirling around her in a storm cloud of her own making. She smiled, and began to laugh, her laughter devolving into sobs. The power grew and from the corner of her eye, Kess watched several of the patrons in the front seating scramble towards the top of the arena again.


    Moreen¡¯s breath came in labored staccato gasps, as uncontrolled as her power itself. She was unsteady on her feet even as Kess dodged a slower moving ball of crackling energy that would have left her body in pieces. Kess dodged another blow, Moreen¡¯s Fulminancy somehow becoming more manageable as time went on. As it was, only Kess¡¯s extensive training kept her alive and moving when many would have collapsed from exhaustion.


    Her blood dripped on the stones, making them slick and hard to navigate, but sometimes helping Kess slip from the clutches of another white-hot burst of power. It was then that something clicked.


    Moreen was, if anything, more winded than before, and Kess¡¯s eyes widened. Moreen was hitting her limit. By letting her slow down, Kess was allowing her powers to continue on a slow burn, and Kess would pass out from blood loss long before Moreen ran out of steam.


    Kess changed tactics then, closing the gap between her and the girl, moving as fast as her shaking legs would carry her, ignoring the sting of her wounds and the blood in her mouth. Moreen, as Kess figured she would, panicked, lobbing shot after shot at Kess, which Kess dodged like they were jabs, though several singed pieces of her hair that flew loose. Moreen¡¯s breathing quickened and she backed towards the ring edge, no longer the aggressor.


    Kess wasn¡¯t faring much better. Her leg ached and blood ran down her side. Everything in her body screamed to give up and to let the girl end it, but she kept dodging, ignoring her fogging vision. She would survive this for Oliver, and for her freedom. She had to.


    Moreen¡¯s breath was comically rushed now, and Kess was able to fight her in close quarters again, though each punch the noblewoman threw was tinged with the energy of Fulminancy. Kess steeled herself and slipped a particularly large bunch of Fulminantic energy before slamming her fist into the side of Moreen¡¯s face, throwing her last bit of strength into the only chance she had to knock the girl out.


    Fulminant or not, she saw the light leave Moreen¡¯s eyes as she fell. Holding her own arm, blood sticking to her fingers and dripping quietly onto the stones, Kess stood in a now silent arena. She risked a glance at Mattes. The man stood with his mouth wide open.


    Kess didn¡¯t stay there. Without thinking, she left the ring, ignoring the looks of shock as she limped away from Moreen, shouldering her bag. She snatched the large bag of gold from the prize table, stuffed it in her shirt, and slammed the door on the silent arena.


    She ran.

 Chapter 14: Progress Without Compromise

    Rowan¡¯s workshop was strewn with the remainders of a former life. In parts, he could just barely make out the outline of an old experiment in the soot. Piles of expensive glass collected, partially melted, where once he¡¯d had sets of tubes and beakers suitable for either his Fulminancy powered lights or holding the gaseous mixtures which enhanced them.


    Twisted metal had embedded itself into his wooden workbenches and idea boards alike, though none of his scraps of paper remained, more than likely incinerated in the blast.


    The ground was still slightly damp as he swept at it with a broom, trying to collect the glass in a pile to be melted down. Glass was expensive in the mountains, and Rowan would obviously be out of funds as soon as Cashin heard anything about all this¡ª if he hadn¡¯t already.


    Fortunately, at least, no one was permanently injured from the blast. It had been the first thing Rowan had checked on yesterday after recovering from his initial shock, and it was the only good thing that had come out of two days of dealing with the aftermath. The walls¡ª several feet of sturdy stone¡ª had held true through the explosion, though the mortar was cracked in places. Rowan wasn¡¯t entirely sure the structure was sound, but going through his old things was too important to leave it behind.


    Most of the workshop had already been cleared out, and though Arlette had offered several workers employed by the manor, Rowan had refused. He¡¯d ordered the door locked as soon as he¡¯d gathered his wits about him, intent on finding the source of the explosion in the first place.


    He leaned on his broom, surveying the wreckage once again, the pungent smell of charred wood reminding him of the smell of a bad Lightstorm Downhill. His mood grew fouler by the moment, and he sighed, adding his tiny collection of glass to the much larger pile by the door to the rest of the house, newly restored to its hinges. The back was still peppered with shrapnel.


    His workshop was a husk now, hollowed out by hours of work and care, but still Rowan had learned nothing. He abandoned his broom and stood in the middle of the blackened room, searching for answers.


    I was so careful, he thought. He¡¯d followed every recommended safety procedure to the letter¡ª and indeed he¡¯d even added a few of his own. His letters from Uphill colleagues were riddled with teasing and snide remarks about his passion for safety, and how true discovery couldn¡¯t be had without risk.


    But Rowan didn¡¯t want risky discoveries¡ª he wanted progress without any sort of compromise. He wanted his inventions to improve lives. To be embraced without any sort of hesitancy. He wanted people to feel safe using the Fulminancy he harnessed.


    Now they never would.


    Cashin will never agree to this now, he realized, running soot stained fingers through dark and sweaty curls. It¡¯s more bad publicity for him, just like his parlor. He¡¯d be a fool to keep the deal with me, even if he thought there was potential.


    Rowan walked over to the remains of his workbench and picked up a charred and twisted piece of glass, turning it in his hands. Then, only because no one was around, he hurled it into the far wall with a vicious throw, and leaned back over the workbench, arms trembling, breath coming in thick rasps.


    How long would his prototypes remain in Hillcrest before they were torn down? How long would it take for public criers to announce further failure of the Northmont son¡ª of Rowan¡¯s second fall from grace? Cashin would abandon him, and Rowan would be left with nothing¡ª again.


    He would be no one.


    Unless he could figure out a way to keep it all under wraps.


    He hesitated, staring at the charred workbench. Could he keep it under wraps?


    His innate sense of honesty nagged at him. He couldn¡¯t simply dump an unsafe technology onto the unsuspecting public. If it reacted the way it had in his workshop, then more lives than Rowan¡¯s own were potentially at stake. Instead, he would need to get to the bottom of what had caused it, then find a way to either solve the problem or warn the public.


    He counted up the number of prototypes he knew about, and was a little dizzy by the number he came up with. Fulminancy-powered lighting was already wildly popular, and Rowan would be hard pressed to undo his work so quickly. I need to work fast, he thought. But where to start when the entire workshop was a dead end?


    Rowan¡¯s failure was damning enough on a personal level, but it begged a larger question¡ª one fundamental to Hillcrest¡¯s existence. Fulminancy had long been touted as safe, though users did occasionally lose control in a usually destructive manner. This had mostly been remedied by shepherding Fulminancers Uphill through the use of fighting rings, and sending anyone without control off to mountainside villas to be forgotten about entirely.


    The Uphill blamed any further accidents on the Downhill for raising miscreants without control, and the Downhill blamed the Uphill for a lavish lifestyle that made their children emotionally unstable and prone to fits. In reality both tiers of the city produced Fulminancers with problems in equal parts; whether or not a Fulminancer managed to master their powers at all was more of an issue of wealth, time, and resources than anything else.


    But now, standing in his charred workshop, Rowan was bothered by something else. For some time, his experiments had been reliable and mundane¡ª safe to the point that he received complaints about their boring nature. What had he done differently that would have resulted in such a stark change?


    I added more Fulminancy to that tube, he realized, blinking. But he¡¯d done that before without issue. Perhaps there was a threshold he¡¯d somehow crossed, but he¡¯d been adding to it for months without problem. Rowan had dozens of charts and models that pointed to the statistical impossibility of it blowing¡ª he wouldn¡¯t have tampered with it otherwise. It seemed to point to one possibility¡ª Fulminancy was inherently unstable.


    And if Fulminancy was unstable both in its natural form in a parlor, as well as in Rowan¡¯s prototypes, where else was it unstable? And why?


    Behind him, the door clicked. Rowan didn¡¯t look up as soft footsteps approached. Not Arlette then, he thought idly, still staring at his charred workbench. A steaming, foul smelling concoction of a drink was plopped in front of him, and Rowan winced. Definitely not Arlette.


    Claire of Bellmere leaned against his workbench and crossed her arms, staring him down. Blond, tousled curls were tied behind her head in a way that managed to look simultaneously feminine and out of sorts. Her hazel eyes were shrewd and no-nonsense, and though her voice was always melodious and pleasant, she had a knack for making it seem less so with her brusque nature.


    She nudged the drink towards him, even as her eyes assessed him. She had a way of trying to see through people¡ª a feat Rowan wasn¡¯t entirely sure was impossible with her Fulminancy.


    ¡°Drink,¡± she said, shoving the poorly named concoction towards him. ¡°You¡¯ve moped long enough.¡±


    ¡°Moped?¡± Rowan spluttered in spite of himself. He picked up the drink and sniffed tentatively. It was pungent and earthy at the same time, with the bite of licorice hidden beneath layers of other odd smells. It did little to convince him to try it. ¡°Claire, my entire workshop is gone in case you haven¡¯t noticed. I¡¯m not moping¡ª I¡¯m trying to figure out what happened. Leave a man to decipher the world in peace, will you?¡±


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Claire twisted her mouth to the side in a considering way as she looked around the remainder of the room. ¡°Looks to me like something exploded. There¡ª now you can spend the next few days doing something productive instead of staring at the same piece of charred glass.¡± She knocked the piece Rowan was still holding out of his other hand and looked pointedly at the drink.


    Rowan sighed and sipped at it reluctantly. It was terrible¡ª but not as bad as Claire¡¯s concoctions usually were. And it did help to take the edge off of his headache, though sleep would help more.


    ¡°A destroyed workshop isn¡¯t enough I see,¡± Rowan said, sipping. ¡°You have to poison me as well.¡±


    ¡°Everything is poisonous with the right dose,¡± Claire replied. ¡°That wood ash for example.¡± She nodded to a pile in the corner. ¡°Toss it on plants in the right amount and you can save an entire crop. Put too much and you¡¯ll find yourself with nothing to harvest.¡±


    ¡°I trust you didn¡¯t put wood ash in this.¡±


    ¡°Not much. I¡¯d much rather use it as an anticoagulant or an antibacterial than waste it on your drink.¡±


    Rowan blinked. The words were familiar, but¡­ ¡°Claire, why do you need to worry about old healing myths when you can just use Fulminancy?¡±


    Claire sighed as if she¡¯d been asked the question a thousand times before¡ª and likely, she had. She had an unhealthy obsession with plants and old medical literature. He¡¯d never met a Fulminant healer so reluctant to use their powers. Of course, he hadn¡¯t met very many at all.


    ¡°Fulminancy doesn¡¯t take care of everything,¡± she said. ¡°I can see a lot more than a Dud healer, and I can speed along a natural process¡ª sometimes dramatically if I do it right. But bodies adjust too quickly to repeated healing, I¡¯ve found. It¡¯s better to let the body do what it can without Fulminancy¡¯s help.¡±


    ¡°Does that really happen?¡± Rowan asked, intrigued in spite of himself. With his curiosity some of his worries abated as well. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of it before.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have,¡± she replied, testing her weight against the workbench. Then she hopped onto it and dusted the soot from her hands. ¡°It¡¯s something you really only notice if you¡¯re working with large quantities of patients. People with chronic injuries or illnesses start to respond less favorably to Fulminant healing over time. The Uphill doesn¡¯t want to admit it because it would mean a lot less coin for them if people stayed home for simple maladies. So most healers just accept it as part of the drawback of healing with Fulminancy.¡±


    She shrugged and began to pick through the tiny pile of charred paper Rowan had managed to salvage from the walls, and Rowan¡¯s brief distraction evaporated as surely as some of the pages crumbled in Claire¡¯s hands.


    ¡°How is everyone?¡± he asked quietly. Claire gave him a pointed look as she put back a few of the pages.


    ¡°You¡¯d know if you ever left this place.¡± Then she seemed to see the look in his eyes and her face softened a bit. ¡°They¡¯re fine,¡± she said quickly. ¡°The aftermath was downright boring, really. Just a couple of bruises from the entire house nearly falling in on itself and¡ª what? Really, Rowan, I can handle a couple of bumps. Thank Mariel no one was in the room when it happened. We¡¯d be having a much different conversation otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Rowan said, handing the cup back to Claire. It had been as terrible as he¡¯d feared, but Claire was trying to help in her own way. She took it and shrugged, legs swinging from the table. Already Rowan expected her to leap off of it, on to her next patient or task, but it seemed that even Claire was a little taken aback by the destruction of the workshop. And perhaps my attitude, Rowan thought. He tried to stand up a little straighter, though he felt that no amount of mental fortitude could help him fix the problems he now faced.


    ¡°You missed the fight,¡± Claire said. It was a transparent way to change the subject, but Rowan remembered, as if from a dream, the Bloodcrawler mystery he¡¯d been so interested in two days ago.


    ¡°Who won?¡±


    ¡°That girl Kess,¡± Claire said appreciatively. ¡°I went to watch it for Arlette to make sure her bets were good, and boy were they.¡± She let out a low whistle.


    ¡°That good huh?¡±


    ¡°The girl¡¯s incredible¡ª no Fulminancy for most of the fight, and she held her own¡ª albeit with a few injuries I wouldn¡¯t mind taking a look at.¡±


    She paused, something distant in her gaze, and Rowan realized there was more to the story. ¡°But?¡± he prompted.


    ¡°But there was a flash of something at the end of the fight, right before she struck the final blow,¡± Claire continued. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say whether it was really Fulminancy or not¡ª whatever it was, it was tiny¡ª but her career Downhill is finished.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll think she¡¯s just been cheating all this time,¡± Rowan mused. ¡°She¡¯ll be lucky to fight again.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    Kess¡¯s victory was shocking, but Rowan found that there was a bit of disappointment buried underneath the shock. Yes, she¡¯d done something incredible, but perhaps it was less so with Fulminancy at her beck and call, even in such a tiny amount. Another dead end, he thought with frustration. Kess wasn¡¯t a Dud after all, nor was she any different from other Bloodcrawlers who eventually worked their way into the Uphill rings.


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, pushing off the workbench to pace around the shop again. ¡°At least she¡¯ll have a lucrative career Uphill. They¡¯ll grant her a sash with a bit of training, won¡¯t they?¡±


    Claire winced. ¡°Not exactly. She sort of¡­provoked the crowd. They¡¯d been expecting a slaughter, and when she walked away relatively unscathed, they weren¡¯t pleased.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t see the Uphill extending a sash to anyone with that kind of reputation any time soon¡ª and she¡¯ll at least be in legal trouble for not registering for a blue sash.¡±


    ¡°The Uphill needs fall guys too,¡± Rowan pointed out.


    ¡°Yes, but not the kind who have a mob chasing after them.¡± She rolled her eyes and hopped off the table, then tapped Rowan lightly on the arm, almost affectionately. That ship had set sail for the two of them long ago, but Rowan appreciated the gesture anyway. He smiled. ¡°There¡¯s still an entire manor left outside this room, you know,¡± she said with a wry smile. ¡°Come out once in awhile when you¡¯re done collecting pretty glass.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±


    Claire waved and walked to the door to the rest of the manor, then paused. ¡°Oh!¡± She turned, and pulled a tiny, charred notebook from her pocket¡ª one of Rowan¡¯s, carefully penned. It was more of a dumping ground for ideas than a book of real value, but Rowan snatched it from Claire¡¯s hands, eyes wide.


    ¡°Where did you get this?¡± he asked, flipping through the book. The edges were charred, but most of the text was unaffected. ¡°I didn¡¯t think anything would survive.¡±


    ¡°Well, most of it didn¡¯t,¡± Claire pointed out, looking around the room again. ¡°But we found that one and a few more blown to the edge of the room, buried in some rubble.¡± She winced. ¡°Some of them are a bit damp, so we¡¯re still drying them, but most of them are legible.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Figured you¡¯d want us to save what we could.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡° Rowan hesitated, book in hand. He¡¯d written more than passing thoughts down in the tiny thing; he realized he¡¯d been writing down the details of his most recent experiment in it. ¡°Claire, this is incredible. Thank you. Truly.¡±


    ¡°The rest are in the library,¡± she said.


    Claire bid him farewell with a smile as the door to the rest of the manor clicked shut behind her. Rowan stood there in the hollowed out husk of his workshop, and suddenly the place seemed less foreboding. Yes, his deal with Cashin was likely cloudspawn. Years of work were indeed gone, and with them, his sense of security. And yet if some of his work was preserved, he might yet have a chance to unravel the whole thing.


    If Fulminancy was unstable to the point of danger, the public had to know, no matter the cost. But Rowan wasn¡¯t a politician¡ª he wouldn¡¯t scare people with unfounded, unscientific rumors about a power that had become as much a part of Hillcrest¡¯s makeup as the surrounding mountains, or the trio of odd storms that rotated in and out of the city.


    Rowan turned towards his workbench, where his final experiment had gone awry. He pushed aside some of the ash, though most of it had already been swept away. There was something he hadn¡¯t noticed before, distracted as he¡¯d been with his lost work. Where he¡¯d put his hand over the tube to demonstrate his ability to snuff out Fulminancy to Arlette, there was a lighter patch than the rest of the workbench. He swept at it again, the ash collecting on his fingers, but sure enough, that part of the table had somehow been spared.


    Either Rowan or some other force had dampened the explosion in this particular spot. His mind spun with the possibilities. Could Fulminancy have insulating powers? He wondered. Or perhaps something else was blocking the blast here. He didn¡¯t dare think of the other possibility¡ª that his own strange ability to snuff out Fulminancy had somehow interfered, even from across the city.


    Mind spinning, Rowan left the workshop behind to collect his notebooks from the library. Mariel and the other founders of Hillcrest had long ago left them Fulminancy, and so many years had passed that few questioned it.


    Now Rowan did.


    Fulminancy was inherently unstable¡ª of that much, he at least had a strong suspicion. But something he was unable to identify had been able to stop that destruction in its tracks. What could stop Fulminancy?


    The Council had long ago convinced the public of the relative safety of the powers, even as events like Rowan¡¯s workshop and the parlors suggested otherwise. The Council wants people to believe it¡¯s safe, Rowan thought. But who would try to convince people of the opposite of the truth?


    And more importantly, why?

 Chapter 15: Plaything

    Only instinct kept Kess moving through the city as she left a trail of blood in her wake. It was attracting the wrong kind of attention, but Kess didn¡¯t have to look to know she would be followed.


    Her actions in the ring wouldn¡¯t be tolerated¡ª not once the fight organizers had a chance to get their wits about them. She limped down a set of steps, muffling a cry as searing pain lashed out from her leg.


    Whether Kess had killed or badly wounded the girl, it didn¡¯t matter. An action had been taken against the Fulminant, and it would send a message¡ª one that the Council would never tolerate, especially without the proper sash. Fighting in Downhill rings with even a hint of Fulminancy and no blue sash to speak of was already a grave violation, and since Kess had likely ruined the carefully run betting racket for the night, they¡¯d be that much more keen to bring her in.


    She glanced at the envelope address¡ª now caked in blood¡ª and skidded around another corner, taking as many twists and turns as she knew. She slid into a wall, her flight uncontrolled, and her vision tunneled. Scrunching her eyes together, she willed herself to keep going.


    She wasn¡¯t sure if these people would have answers, but they were her last clue to finding her brother. She had to at least talk to them before¡ª


    Kess swore and paused, sliding into a small storm shelter nearly collapsed with age. I¡¯ve been a fool, she realized, digging through her bag. There was nothing but an extra shirt for binding her worst wound, but she tore it into strips and did so anyway. Blood loss was addling her mind; she¡¯d been leading the Witchblades straight down her path.


    With a tiny grunt, she tugged on the makeshift bandage and stopped the worst of the bleeding, though the other wound on her shoulder leaked freely onto her shirt. She was dizzy and sick, but at least this would keep her pursuers from following¡ª for now.


    A few streets later Kess realized that her actions had been in vain. The blood trail was gone, yes, but even though she¡¯d been unpredictable in her path, she was slowed by her injuries. There was no sign of the Shadowy pursuer from the other night, though Kess imagined they were lurking on a building above somewhere, perhaps directing the Witchblades.


    She gripped her shoulder and ducked under another series of storm shelters, the wood creaking under her feet. Behind her, shouts erupted. Kess shoved a curious woman back into her home as she flew down the docks and burst out into another wide street. Perhaps she couldn¡¯t evade her pursuers entirely, but she could at least get to a place where an altercation wouldn¡¯t produce casualties.


    Dawnring went past in a blur, and Kess entered the abandoned area of the city between Dawnring and Whitering¡ª a series of empty squares and shops that had once been more populated before the river had disabused people of the notion of living in an easily flooded area. The Drystorm was at its peak now, and the wind buffeted her small frame as she rounded another corner, feet flying underneath as fast as they could carry her.


    She limped through a wide but empty city square, then ducked into an alleyway littered with refuse and pieces of broken wood. Winded, she stopped for a moment, gasping at the pain in her shoulder and leg.


    Her head spun, and she nearly tasted the street, but she shook her head and forced herself onward. Perhaps she could yet lose the shouting men in the tangle of empty streets within.


    Her boots slid under her as she rounded another corner and almost lost her footing, her leg screaming in protest. Another alleyway appeared, and she dove into it, then reeled to a stop. There was a tiny space between two buildings¡ª far too small for any man to follow.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    She ducked inside, and emerged in a similar alleyway, but something was wrong. She froze and blinked in a blue light.


    The light of Fulminancy.


    Kess tried to slide back into the gap, but a Witchblade yelled, and she scrambled away from her only exit as a wall of lightning crawled up the gap like a trellis of vines. Strong arms caught her and slammed her into the ground.


    Kess coughed, air momentarily gone from her lungs. Her vision swam, dark and threatening to leave entirely. When it did come back, a flash illuminated her captor¡ª a Witchblade, his uniform blue and pressed. He pressed a humming Fulminant sword to her throat, his face stern. Behind him, four more men jogged up, tresses of light snaking up each soldier¡¯s arm in turn.


    That¡¯s it then, she thought. She closed her eyes as the men complained to one another, though her captor never took his weapon away. Kess¡¯s mind spun, desperately looking for a way out. She wouldn¡¯t find her brother from a jail cell, but she¡¯d be lucky for them to take her to a regular cell at all.


    From the sound of the conversation, it was clear that they didn¡¯t really know who Kess was. She was small and unimportant now, but the moment a connection was made, there would be a much bigger fuss in the city.


    There would be no escape for her tonight. Here she had delivered a prize to the Fulminant without so much as a hint of resistance. Kess cursed her own stupidity as the men closed the perimeter around the alleyway. What did you expect, Kess? These men are professional soldiers, trained to kill. And you¡¯re just a¡­The thought trailed off. What was she? She tried not to think about it often. It would do her no good in the here and now. Regardless, she wouldn¡¯t be able to save her brother; she couldn¡¯t even save herself.


    I can¡¯t let them take me, she thought. But what option did she have? She had no weapon, she was grievously injured, and escaping would only leave witnesses. She would have to¡­to¡­


    One of the men hauled her to her feet, pinning her arms behind her. Leaving them alive would be a death sentence to Kess¡ª and more importantly, to Oliver.


    Her hands began to tremble, even as they were held. Her mind threatened to rebel.


    Images flashed through her mind, brutal and vivid. A room filled with blood. The wind howling. Men screaming and dying. The acrid smell of Fulminancy snapping in the air.


    ¡°Figures we¡¯d get the bad end of the deal,¡± one man muttered, peering at Kess. ¡°Always the runners.¡± He held up a crackling hand towards Kess, and she flinched. The man grinned, then brought his hand forward to grasp and Kess¡¯s chin, the Fulminancy prickling her skin where it touched, nearly blinding her with its energy.


    In spite of herself, her body began to shake, and the man cackled.


    ¡°She¡¯s afraid of it,¡± the man said, and a few of the others chuckled as well. ¡°Can you believe it? On the run for using it and she¡¯s afraid of it.¡±


    Still grinning, he allowed his Fulminancy to grow, wrapping around her, weaving through her clothes. Kess tugged against her other captor, but his sword remained pressed firmly against her throat, and Kess stilled. Whatever Witchblades Oliver had been dealing with, it wasn¡¯t these.


    The Fulminancy wove around her, teasing, snapping at random places. She flinched each time, which was enough for the men to burst into laughter. As it snapped, something snapped within Kess.


    Familiar energy brewed within her again, warming the Drystorm air around her, a comforting embrace she had long since abandoned. There was nothing tame to it like the Fulminancy these men played with. There was no order to it¡ª only a ferality which Kess had never been able to control, even on that night so long ago.


    A sharp warmth ran into her fingers. There was one more option. One more promise to break. The only promise that mattered, really.


    If you die here, Oliver dies with you, she thought. A single bead of sweat trickled down her back. It didn¡¯t make her feel any better about what she was about to do.


    It hadn¡¯t worked in the arena with Moreen. It hadn¡¯t worked on the Stormclap board last night. But tonight, with the wind whipping and snapping at her clothes while the Witchblades used her like a plaything, she was certain it would.

 Chapter 16: Bloodstorm

    A beckoning Lightstorm sent a charge through the air, and Fulminant energy sang through Kess¡¯s veins with a song she swore she could feel. The very thought of it was both nauseating and exhilarating, a storm within her very blood.


    It would work this time.


    She called to those powers she kept tucked away so deep that sometimes she refused to even acknowledge that she had them, ignoring the screams pounding her eardrums and the scent of blood assaulting her nose. There was no control¡ª only a wild and intangible form of power. Something that would maim anything she touched¡ª including herself.


    Kess felt the familiar blue lightning trailing down her arms slowly, hers a deeper blue than her captives. It filled the space around her as the men leapt back, yelping. The wind howled, swirling into the alleyway, and even her sword wielding captor took a step back.


    With Fulminancy, big acts of destruction like this were comically easy, but Kess¡¯s was on another level entirely. She¡¯d always lacked the finesse and control of other Fulminant, but her own powers were so wildly out of control that she could easily level a city block on any given day.


    Kess swallowed the bile that threatened to bring up the small amount of water she¡¯d consumed with the feel of the power coursing through her veins. In her head, screams echoed and she swore she could smell singed flesh. She shook her head, trying to clear the memories.


    Tonight was different.


    When the very air crackled around her and she felt that she could dredge up no more of that power, Kess released it.


    The world collapsed around her.


    The men flew backwards, thrown nearly a block away into an unmoving heap. The closest was vaporized where he stood. On either side of her, the buildings shook, and Kess prayed they would hold as she tried to channel the power down the alleyway. A strong cracking sound emanated from the buildings to her left and right, ominous and final.


    The power released like a flash of lightning, quick, destructive, and gone as quickly as it came. Kess opened her eyes again and surveyed the damage, weaving slightly.


    Her tormentors were gone, lying still or immortalized as dark smudges on the abandoned alleyway. Most of the power had slammed into the building to the left. It threatened to collapse on the alleyway, cracks spider webbing through the wall. A few places on the cobblestones were decorated with soot, and Kess fought back nausea as she realized that those had been men.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Shaking, she stepped forward to run again.


    No men followed her. The only men who could give witness to what she had done were now dead. Kess felt, as she limped forward, barely conscious, that her act of supposed self defense had only confirmed what she had always known.


    Kess was a monster.


    Monster or not, she had to find her brother. She moved, as if in a daze, towards the address she¡¯d memorized, and threw her cloak over her shoulders as she entered more inhabited portions of the city. Whitering passed, and Dawnring emerged, the homes occupied and busy even at this time of night.


    Kess¡¯s steady steps forward¡ª pained though they were¡ª were the only thing that kept her sane and conscious. She counted them in her head, a repetitive sort of dirge to forget the atrocities she¡¯d just committed.


    Finally, a well-kept mansion emerged from the tangle of buildings in Redring. It was set into a courtyard with other quiet houses, though many of them looked unoccupied. Kess was grateful for the quiet street¡ª she didn¡¯t want to discuss anything with onlookers.


    She didn¡¯t want to discuss anything at all, really. Not now.


    Still, she forced herself towards the courtyard, where a guard took one look at her short, injured stature and simply let her pass with a bored look on his face. Kess reached the ornate front door and knocked.


    After a few moments of yelling, a young man a little older than Kess appeared, his dark hair disheveled, and his eyes tired. There was soot on his clothes, and even his face had a few dirty smudges. Kess found his looks an odd contrast with the wealth of the building, but pushed it out of her mind for the time being.


    ¡°I need¡ª¡° she began. The young man cut her off, leaning in the doorway.


    ¡°Look,¡± he said, voice quiet. ¡°I can¡¯t keep helping every beggar that comes to our doorstep¡ª not while Arlette¡¯s around. She¡¯ll kill me if I spend more of our budget on the poor, but she doesn¡¯t have to know.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡°


    The man held up a hand, then looked over his shoulder. His voice lowered further and Kess had to strain to hear it.


    ¡°Have you met old Marlon yet?¡± he asked. Kess shook her head in spite of herself, trying to navigate the conversation with her spinning mind. ¡°He¡¯s in charge of the warehouse I set up. Should be warm there, and dry when the Floodstorms come along. I sneak food out there as often as we can afford too, so we¡ª¡°


    Finally, Kess had had enough. She threw back her hood, grabbed the young man by his shirt, and let everything out at once.


    ¡°Look,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t know who you are, but my brother does have a tendency to associate with know-it-alls and sycophants. Regardless, he worked with someone at this address once. He¡¯s missing now, and I¡¯ve had a day that Fanas herself would envy, so you can take your cloudspawn dung about me being a beggar and save it for the next unfortunate person to show up at your doorstep.¡±


    She unfurled the bloodied envelope in shaking hands and shoved it in the man¡¯s face. ¡°This man,¡± she said, thrusting it forward. ¡°Take me to him, now.¡±


    The young man blinked, shocked, as Kess held onto his shirt.


    ¡°But that¡¯s¡ª¡°


    Then she collapsed in a dead faint.

 Chapter 17: Another Chance

    It took Arlette all of two minutes to notice something was wrong at the manor. Her attention appeared in the form of a haggard Eamon, who tromped down the main staircase, looking a little too cheerful for his disheveled appearance. He grinned at Rowan.


    ¡°The woman of the house sends me away for a day,¡± Eamon said, chuckling, ¡°and when I come back you¡¯ve managed to finally rid us of that rotting workshop and acquire a new project.¡±


    Eamon¡¯s dark skin and piercing amber eyes were an oddity in Hillcrest, as there wasn¡¯t exactly diversity to be found in an isolated mountain kingdom far from other civilizations. Rowan had run into a few people from Tamresh¡ª or equally distant Alirase¡ª perhaps a handful of times in his life. When Rowan had asked, it was clear that even Eamon himself wasn¡¯t sure where his lineage was from; he¡¯d grown up beneath the mountain, tending to farms before his family had sent him to seek a fortune in Hillcrest.


    Rowan didn¡¯t have the heart to tell his family that they¡¯d sent him the wrong direction.


    ¡°Well, now that the wall¡¯s nearly gone, you can finally expand the kitchen like you¡¯ve always dreamed,¡° Rowan said. He glanced down at the pale woman in his arms, the fire of her earlier outburst now a memory. He joined Eamon at the staircase, trying to figure out when he¡¯d get a chance alone with his notebooks again. Odd young women showing up at the manor certainly wasn¡¯t helping his concentration. ¡°And she¡¯s not a project. She showed up at the door demanding me of all people, then collapsed.¡±


    ¡°Well anyone would with the mess she¡¯s making,¡± Eamon said with a glance at Rowan¡¯s shirt. Rowan didn¡¯t need to look down to know that he was now covered in the woman¡¯s blood. ¡°What did she do, try to leave the city?¡±


    Rowan snorted as he climbed. ¡°Eamon, you used to live outside of Hillcrest¡ª there¡¯s nothing out there but farms.¡±


    ¡°Of course, lad,¡± Eamon agreed. ¡°Farms, on the mountain itself. Go a bit further, though, and you might find yourself regretting your trip. The schlanxes don¡¯t mind a trip or two into the mountains for a snack or two. I hear we¡¯re nicely chilled.¡±


    ¡°Schlanxes?¡± Rowan asked. ¡°They never come up to the mountains¡ª they¡¯re strictly desert creatures. They¡¯re just a myth.¡±


    ¡°Does a myth leave scars, lad?¡± Eamon asked, voice grave. Rowan looked up at his dark face as they turned into the hallway, but there was a spark of humor in his eyes. ¡°Myth or not,¡± he continued, ¡°what you¡¯ve got in your arms is a bigger problem for us all right now.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Rowan asked, surprised. ¡°We¡¯ll just get Claire to look at her and send her on her way¡ª once she explains why she¡¯s here at all.¡±


    ¡°Because if I¡¯m not mistaken, those marks on her are from Fulminancy.¡±


    Rowan paused, then regarded the girl again. There were charred markings around her shirt where she was still copiously bleeding, but they could have been from anything. Eamon turned the woman¡¯s cheek gently towards him, and he swore as he noticed the nearly faded jagged lines on her pale cheek. It had been hard to notice beneath another fresh cut running across her face.


    ¡°I knew I should have left her outside,¡± Rowan muttered, but he continued down the long hallway towards Claire¡¯s infirmary anyway.


    ¡°Fortunately, lad, you¡¯re the only one of us who wouldn¡¯t do that.¡± He glanced over at the girl again. ¡°She¡¯s in bad shape. Even if she¡¯d managed to stumble off our property, someone else would have gotten to her¡ª and maybe someone she didn¡¯t want to see. Was best you brought her in.¡±


    ¡°That much remains to be seen,¡± Rowan said, turning down a side hall and into the infirmary. ¡°She nearly attacked me, and I was the person she came to see, no less.¡± Eamon chuckled quietly and helped Rowan set down the woman on a bed, his motions gentle in spite of his size.


    ¡°I can think of a few other people around here with that temper, lad.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and we don¡¯t need more of them.¡±


    ¡°Keeps you on your toes,¡± he said, winking. He clapped Rowan on the back. ¡°I¡¯ll let our favorite mistress know that her cash cow has come to pay her a visit.¡±


    Rowan blinked. ¡°Cash cow?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Eamon said, headed for the doorway. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t recognize her, I suppose, being from Uphill and all¡ª that¡¯s Kess. The very same Bloodcrawler our lady downstairs has taken such an interest in.¡± He scratched at his dark stubble, eyes to the ceiling. ¡°Can¡¯t blame Arlette for it, honestly. She¡¯d been a good bet for years. Talented, smart, able to stay anonymous enough to make a few of us very wealthy, while the rest miss out on all the fun.¡± He looked down at Kess, a bit of regret in his face. ¡°Ah well, was good while it lasted. In any case, I¡¯ll deal with Arlette. Get yourself fed, lad¡ª you¡¯ve been spending too much time in the library anyway.¡±


    Rowan nodded absently, his eyes still on the girl as Eamon¡¯s large boots creaked on the wood. Had she bothered fighting back at all? If she¡¯d been Fulminant herself like Claire claimed, wouldn¡¯t she have been able to defend herself?


    Maybe someone snuffed her powers somehow, Rowan thought. It wasn¡¯t a terrible theory. If someone had known what she¡¯d been hiding and wanted her to lose, it was a much safer bet to leave her without powers at all. But that would mean there are more Duds who can do what I can, he realized.


    He was so lost in his own thoughts that he almost missed the exchange down the hall¡ª voices, laughter, and a familiar set of footsteps. Claire entered the room shortly after, her smile fading slightly the moment she saw Rowan, then further as she saw Kess lying on the bed. She gave a curt nod to him, and Rowan hid a sigh as she focused her attention on Kess.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Claire had softened for a day or so after his workshop had blown, but it was clear now that she was back to her usual brusque self. Claire¡¯s ability to heal a wide variety of ailments hadn¡¯t left her with much of a bedside manner to work with, unfortunately.


    ¡°Rowan,¡± she said, moving towards the bed. ¡°What did I say?¡±


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°About letting people bleed out,¡± she said, washing her hands in a nearby basin.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t let her bleed out,¡± he said, crossing his arms.


    ¡°You did,¡± she said accusingly. ¡°Did you even bother to¡ª¡° she swore as she uncovered hastily applied bandages on the girl¡¯s thigh. ¡°Well,¡± she shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s better than your last job at least.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be pleased to know that I had nothing to do with that job,¡± Rowan said, leaning against the wall as Claire worked. ¡°She showed up like that and fainted on me.¡±


    ¡°And here I doubted your ability with women.¡±


    ¡°If my only chance with women is by subjecting them to blood loss, then I think I¡¯ll remain a bachelor.¡±


    Claire cracked a small smile, then unceremoniously ripped at the side of the girl¡¯s shirt, revealing the second shoulder wound. Claire didn¡¯t turn towards him as she worked, and Rowan kept his eyes carefully on the back of her blond curls, tied up and away from her face so she could focus on her work.


    ¡°She¡¯ll live,¡± she finally said, cleaning away enough blood to make Rowan blanch a bit. He¡¯d never been particularly good with gore. In fact, he itched to be back among his notebooks, cracking the secret to his destroyed workshop, but Claire had made it clear that he had at least some responsibility to remain behind whenever he brought a patient to her. He bore it reluctantly¡ª not for lack of care about the girl or anyone else he¡¯d brought to Claire¡ª so much as his distaste for violence.


    ¡°Neither wound is excessively deep,¡± Claire continued, ¡°but as per my usual complaint, she should have been brought to me long before she lost this much blood. You¡¯re practically forcing my hand here, Rowan.¡±


    ¡°Claire, she showed up at the front door. I didn¡¯t force anything.¡±


    ¡°Well, front door or not, you¡¯ll find there are are limits to what I can do, even with Fulminancy,¡± she said, pulling out tools to stitch the wounds closed. She met his eyes with her own hazel ones before returning to her work. ¡°I¡¯d rather not have to explain that to you when someone you actually care about is brought here.¡±


    Rowan avoided Claire¡¯s eyes quickly. There was well-justified bitterness in her voice. He gritted his teeth together, steeling himself. ¡°Claire, we never talked about what happened. I¡ª¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about it, Rowan¡ª especially not right now.¡± Her hands sewed up the wound in Kess¡¯s thigh deftly, though all Rowan could see was blood. ¡°What¡¯s done is done. We move on, and that¡¯s all we can do.¡°


    Rowan recognized dismissal. With one more nervous glance at the girl, he left Claire to her task¡ª and her memories.


    Rowan returned to the solitude of the library against Eamon¡¯s wishes. Without Arlette to hound him for bringing a stranger into the home, perhaps he could get some real work done.


    He¡¯d at least determined that there was nothing scientifically wrong with what he¡¯d done that night before his workshop blew. The tolerances had been there. What hadn¡¯t been was the stability he¡¯d expected. Fulminancy¡¯s instability was a known issue, but so far it had been a predictable sort of instability. One that¡ª with the right care¡ª could be dealt with and avoided.


    Or so Rowan had thought.


    He¡¯d been so sure of the quality of his own designs that he¡¯d begun to think Fulminancy was only unstable at all because people wielded it. Tucked away in his little lanterns and tubes, it seemed mostly tamed. Now he wasn¡¯t so sure.


    Rowan set aside another charred notebook, having meticulously cataloged every remaining piece of information within. His eyes fell on a letter he¡¯d been drafting before his interruption with the Bloodcrawler girl. He¡¯d rewritten it several times already. The current draft was his most polished, but his most despairing.


    Lord Grandbow, it read. While your offer of funds is greatly appreciated, I¡¯m afraid I will have to reject it on the basis of practicality. I imagine you have little time for trivialities with your current investments, so I will make it quick: Fulminancy in this application is not safe. You¡¯ve seen this already in your dealings with the parlor in Redring. I, too, had hoped that this was simply a fluke, but the prototypes we¡¯re releasing must be retracted. They are too unstable to be placed in homes and businesses. Perhaps after further research, these prototypes can be replaced, but I would not feel comfortable doing so at this time. I appreciate your interest in this endeavor and can only hope we have the opportunity to work together again.


    He¡¯d signed his name at the bottom. Rowan stared at the letter again, barely seeing it. It was the right thing to do, of course. He knew that. So why did it feel wrong? Why did it feel like he was letting something slip from his grasp?


    It was then, sitting in the dim library, that Rowan realized it: he couldn¡¯t do it. He couldn¡¯t throw away years of work. When the people realized this new technology¡¯s inherent danger, they would reject it outright, even once the danger was remedied. Rowan wasn¡¯t a politician. Cashin¡¯s faith in him had only emerged after a string of failures with other investors, and Cashin himself was only interested because of his more recent business failures.


    Rowan wouldn¡¯t have another chance.


    If he threw this one away, there would be no other way forward.


    He had to leave those lights up in the city.


    Rowan¡¯s gut twisted, protesting. Rowan was an honest man, but where had honesty gotten him? He¡¯d been thrown out of his family home, disinherited, and made to fend for himself from a young age. He¡¯d pushed Claire away with his honesty, and now threatened to throw away his one chance to make a difference in the city with it.


    And the city would be better for his work. People would be able to learn late into the night. The air was cleaner where his lights shone, and that steady light could bring clarity to otherwise muddy words. It would mean higher quality work for skilled trades who could now better see what they were doing, and, once its safety in illumination was assured, it could be applied to other industries to take some of the Downhill out of the back breaking labor that ran the city.


    There was a future here. The problem was convincing everyone else. And everyone else would be exceedingly hard to convince if they were worried about this new technology exploding on them at any given time.


    There were times for light, and there were times for shadow. Perhaps, with his lack of Fulminancy, Rowan would simply have to learn to be at home in the shadows.


    Rowan parsed his letter one last time, then gathered his several drafts together. He walked over to the hearth, stoked the flames, and stood there, letters in hand, for a very long moment.


    He threw them into the fire and went to find Arlette.

 Chapter 18: Bigger Stories to Tell

    ¡°I need an alibi,¡± Rowan said. ¡°A reason to be at court.¡± He leaned against a solid wall in the corner of Arlette¡¯s study¡ª one of his favorite spots in the manor¡ª though occasionally the company was too much even for his patience.


    ¡°Go on your father¡¯s name,¡± Arlette said, barely looking up from a list of numbers so long it made Rowan dizzy.


    ¡°That won¡¯t work. You know what I did, Arlette. I¡¯ll be lucky if they don¡¯t throw me out even with a good excuse to return.¡±


    She waved a hand dismissively, and continued to write. ¡°You did your father a favor¡ª saved his life, even. If the cloudspawn up there don¡¯t understand that, then they¡¯re not worth bothering with in the first place.¡±


    ¡°You might see it that way but I doubt the rest of the Uphill will. I interfered with Fulminant business. I need something else¡ª something separate from my family.¡±


    Arlette finally looked at him, though her pen remained hovered over the ledgers. ¡°Rowan, do you know the odds of someone actually speaking to you up there in a useful manner?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really think that¡¯s something you can¡ª¡°


    ¡°One in three million, six hundred twenty eight thousand, Rowan.¡±


    Rowan blinked. ¡°You made that up,¡± he accused. ¡°Where would something like that come from?¡±


    Arlette returned to her work, unbothered by his accusation. ¡°A myriad of calculations,¡± she said. ¡°I set a weighted value to the odds of individuals speaking with you, depending on what they stand to gain from doing so, their standing at court, and the likelihood that they¡¯ll talk at all. I also added in a bit of noise to account for human unpredictability, as well as the odds of those people being there on any given¡­you¡¯re not listening, are you?¡±


    Rowan stared out the window at the Drystorm, the dark clouds whipping into a frenzy now that Lightstorm season was approaching. Soon the city would be lit up by bright flashes of lightning, and half the Downhill would spend their days and nights putting out fires. ¡°I¡¯m trying to figure out people, Arlette, not numbers.¡±


    ¡°People are numbers, Rowan.¡±


    ¡°Be that as it may, I have a problem we can¡¯t solve with numbers,¡± he said. ¡°I need a miracle.¡±


    Arlette said nothing for a few moments, her auburn hair falling into her face as she wrote silently. Rowan was about to give up on her help entirely and seek Claire¡¯s advice when she finally pushed aside the ledger, leaned back, and studied him pointedly.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll help. Here¡¯s the truth of it, Rowan¡ª you¡¯re already done for anyway. When you told Cashin and the others what happened, you¡ª¡°


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell Cashin and the others.¡±


    Arlette paused, mouth half open.


    ¡°You¡­what?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell them anything,¡± Rowan said calmly. ¡°I burned the letter.¡± He trailed over to one of the chairs near her desk, and sat down, hard, resting his elbows on his knees. ¡°I just couldn¡¯t do it. It was too much work to throw it all away now. If people know what happened¡ª if they understand the risk¡ª it¡¯ll all be for nothing. They¡¯ll reject it even if I find a way to fix it.¡±


    ¡°Fanas and Faleas,¡± Arlette swore, her voice low. She seemed to be trying to reconcile the Rowan who sat in front of her with the Rowan who spent most of his time chiding her for her gambling addiction, picking up random messes throughout the manor, and readjusting picture frames on the wall. Rowan had to admit, he hadn¡¯t quite figured it out himself, either. ¡°You¡¯re going to try politicking, Rowan? The last time you tried to play politics, you told my father I was running a gambling ring behind the manor.¡±


    Rowan grimaced. ¡°Well you were gambling behind the house, Arlette¡ª with half the neighborhood.¡±


    ¡°That,¡± she said, sitting up to put her hands on the desk. ¡°That right there.¡± She loomed over him, as if trying to decipher something, then shook her head. ¡°You can¡¯t play politics, Rowan. It¡¯ll destroy you. It requires dishonesty. Withholding information. Putting your needs above others¡¯. What will you do?¡± she asked. ¡°Go up there and convince them that your lights are safe because someone truly decent works tirelessly to make them so?¡±


    Rowan avoided her eyes. The thought had crossed his mind. ¡°If you¡¯re going to do this,¡± Arlette continued, ¡°you have to be willing to lie, Rowan. For your own benefit. Maybe even for the benefit of others.¡±


    ¡°The good of the many in return for harming the few,¡± Rowan whispered.


    ¡°Exactly. A trade off. Can you do that, Rowan? Can you really make that kind of moral trade?¡±


    Rowan stared at his hands. He¡¯d had this exact debate in the library, but he¡¯d burned the letters, hadn¡¯t he? This was the right path forward¡ª but at what cost?


    ¡°I¡ª I don¡¯t know,¡± he finally said. ¡°But I have to try. This is all I have left.¡± He locked eyes with Arlette. Rowan thought he could sense understanding there. Arlette of all people knew what it was to be cast aside for seeing things differently. She would understand his dire need to move forward, even as it chafed against his very nature.


    Finally, she sat back in her chair, still regarding him. ¡°Well, the odds of you succeeding are one in eight hundred thirty seven thousand, four hundred and sixty two, but¡ª¡°


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°I need a distraction,¡± Rowan interrupted. ¡°Another reason to be Uphill. If I show up now, people will wonder why I didn¡¯t do so years ago. They¡¯ll start asking questions, digging¡­¡±


    ¡°And they¡¯ll find your little¡­incident.¡± Rowan nodded, and Arlette seemed to consider, her eyes falling away from her ledgers.


    ¡°Take Claire,¡± she said. ¡°If you go back Uphill under the pretense that you¡¯re hoping to show off a potential bride to the world, it should give you some modicum of respect. She doesn¡¯t have connections, but she should be able to get information you don¡¯t have access to¡ª not to mention she¡¯d distract from the real reason you¡¯re there.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a bad idea,¡± Rowan admitted. ¡°But Claire has a Council seal from her training as a healer. They¡¯ll recognize her.¡± And she¡¯d rather go dancing in a Lightstorm than be with me, he thought.


    ¡°We¡¯ll just switch out her sash,¡± Arlette said. ¡°I still have a cousin who¡ª¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s not on her sash. It¡¯s a brand. On flesh.¡±


    Arlette let out a low whistle. ¡°She never told me.¡±


    Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have let that one slip.


    ¡°Well I certainly can¡¯t go, Rowan,¡± she said, laughing slightly. ¡°Clouds, they¡¯ll haul me off in chains.¡±


    Rowan smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t know about chains, but your presence might be so distracting that they might just forget about me entirely¡ª before they throw both of us off the side of the mountain, anyway.¡± He wiggled his leg while he thought. ¡°We need someone new to court. Someone with fresh eyes and a new perspective, but someone we don¡¯t have to worry about turning loose.¡±


    ¡°Someone with the right mannerisms and training,¡± Arlette agreed. ¡°I don¡¯t imagine you have time to bring someone up to snuff on court manners.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rowan said. ¡°The sooner this gets sorted out, the better. Done correctly, and I might be able to maintain the illusion of safety while I create the reality of it. If I can solve it before something happens, then all the better.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Arlette said, shutting her notebook. ¡°I suggest you start shopping around, then¡ª finding someone good looking wouldn¡¯t hurt your cause either. Men forget to think when their eyes are on your date.¡±


    She winked at him, and Rowan shared a wry smile with her before a thump on the door made them both look up. One of the guards Tio peeked his head in, his young face covered in a mop of light brown curls.


    ¡°Sorry to interrupt,¡± he said, nodding at them both. ¡°There¡¯s something outside the two of you should see.¡±


    ¡°Clouds above,¡± Rowan said softly as he stared out at the city. Twilight had nearly fallen, but Rowan could still make out the dark, twisting smoke as it rose into the inky sky. Lanterns and Fulminancy alike reflected off the low clouds, casting the city with a faint glow.


    It was enough to see the rubble where buildings had stood. The manor afforded anyone on the rooftop the ability to see for several miles, though most of their view was located Downhill. It wasn¡¯t much to look at, but Rowan had long ago memorized the skyline from nights spent on the roof, pondering a problem or question in his studies.


    A significant chunk of it was now missing.


    ¡°Faleas take me,¡± Arlette swore, her knuckles white as they gripped the railing. ¡°That¡¯s close enough to Riverside that it might affect the fights tomorrow. I need to go figure out how much money I just lost. If the Riverside fight doesn¡¯t happen, it¡¯ll throw off the entire thing.¡±


    She began muttering a series of numbers and stalked from the roof, leaving Rowan with a fidgeting Tio, who kept trying to rest his hand on his sword before flinching and taking it away, as if burned. Rowan hid a smile, though Tio¡¯s reaction was natural enough. He¡¯d be condemned anywhere else in the city for learning swordplay, though both Rowan and Arlette insisted that their guards at least attempt to do so in spite of the social conventions.


    Whether it was frowned upon or not, it had saved Rowan¡¯s life on more than one occasion¡ª more than a spear would, anyway.


    ¡°Tio,¡± he said quietly. The boy started, then straightened as he looked towards Rowan, carefully folding his hands behind his back. ¡°You don¡¯t have to carry it around, you know¡ª not while you¡¯re training, anyway. We have spears, if you¡¯d be more comfortable with that.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Tio trailed off and looked at his feet. ¡°I¡¯d like to keep it, sir. I want to learn it¡ª maybe even learn to use something like the Witchblades do.¡± He shrugged, blushing. ¡°I mean, it seems like learning a regular sword would be the first step, right? And it¡¯s more convenient anyway, and I¡­¡±


    He trailed off as Rowan couldn¡¯t completely hide a smile.


    ¡°My mother says I talk too much,¡± Tio said, fiddling with the sword handle. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve nothing to be sorry about,¡± Rowan said. He looked out over the horizon again as a thought occurred to him. ¡°When did the watch report that smoke?¡±


    ¡°Well, sir, there was a change in guards about the time you brought that girl inside. The roof watch had me report it to you all before coming up to my post here, but I couldn¡¯t find you for a good few minutes.¡±


    Rowan stood there for a moment, trying to parse through the information. ¡°Which direction did the girl come from?¡± he asked.


    ¡°West, sir.¡± Tio frowned, then looked out towards the crumbled buildings. ¡°From Riverside. But she can¡¯t have had anything to do with it¡ª even the worst Fulminant accidents I¡¯ve seen Downhill are usually something small like a room, or maybe a tiny tavern.¡± He shook his head as he looked at the wreckage. ¡°That has to be at least two city blocks wide, doesn¡¯t it? ¡­sir.¡±


    Rowan leaned over the railing, looking for signs of life in that section of the city. The lighting was dimmer that direction¡ª in fact, without the rest of the city to silhouette the buildings, it would be hard to see that they were damaged. ¡°Is that part of the Downhill completely abandoned?¡±


    ¡°Never heard or seen anyone come from there ¡®til today, sir¡ª except on fight nights. No one wants to be underwater during the next Floodstorm, so not even the beggars set up down there. It¡¯s not even worth crashing in overnight because of the mold.¡±


    Tio winced a bit, then yawned, his curls sticking up at odd angles. Rowan smiled again and clapped him on the shoulder.


    ¡°Did Eamon give you double duty two nights in a row?¡± he asked the boy. Tio blushed furiously, trying to straighten his hair with a flattened palm.


    ¡°I overslept, sir.¡±


    ¡°Twice?¡±


    ¡°Twice,¡± Tio agreed, a bit forlornly. ¡°I¡¯m not really a morning person, sir. But I might become one at this rate. I, uh¡­¡± He trailed off, hesitating. ¡°I really couldn¡¯t find either you or Lady Arlette, but one of the reasons I was late telling you two is because I fell asleep waiting. I¡¯m probably not supposed to tell you this¡­¡±


    ¡°Get some sleep,¡± Rowan said, giving him a light nudge towards the stairs. ¡°If Eamon asks, tell him to send Tad up¡ª he¡¯s up all night anyway.¡±


    Tio yawned again and nodded. ¡°Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.¡±


    The boy was gone in seconds, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave the roof. Eamon meant well, but sometimes he could be too harsh to boys who were mostly looking for a safe place to be employed in a confusing city.


    Rowan looked one last time at the smoldering ruins by Riverside, then turned to head downstairs again. It seemed that his Bloodcrawler might have a bigger story to tell.

 Chapter 19: To Survive

    Kess was used to being injured. She wasn¡¯t used to whatever this was. Her first moments of consciousness were reluctant, and sleep was a siren song in her head. She hauled herself to a sitting position, groaning, her mouth papery and every movement a searing fire in her limbs.


    Slowly, the reality of her situation trickled back into her mind. Oliver, gone. And she¡­hadn¡¯t she won that fight with Moreen? Then she remembered the alleyway and its aftermath. That was enough to force her back into her aching body. It was what she deserved, after all, for tangling with her powers again.


    Kess cracked her eyes open, managing to sit up partially on her good arm, though it took more strength than she would have figured. In front of her, a glowing blond woman couldn¡¯t hide the look of shock on her face for just a moment before unceremoniously shoving a glass of water into her hands.


    Kess was too thirsty to care if it was drugged or not. She drank, eyes on the glowing woman¡ª glowing. She froze.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Kess said, the water half finished.


    ¡°Stop what?¡± She didn¡¯t stop, her hazel eyes slightly unfocused and her hands emitting a sickly green light.


    ¡°That,¡± Kess said, lifting the water weakly to gesture at the woman¡¯s hands. The woman lifted an eyebrow, a single tress of blond curls falling in front of her face.


    ¡°You want me to stop¡­healing you?¡± she asked incredulously. Kess nodded, exhausted. ¡°Why?¡± the woman asked.


    ¡°Because that isn¡¯t meant for¡ª ¡° she gestured at her body. ¡°¡ªthis.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± the woman said. ¡°Surely you¡¯ve run into Fulminant healers before. It¡¯s simple really. Your body produces signals not unlike that of Fulminancy. We study those, then learn to replicate them with our own Fulminancy, which encourages your body to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather avoid it completely if at all possible,¡± Kess interrupted, finishing the water. She could hardly blame the woman for attempting to help her, but old habits died hard. The blond woman stared at her for a few minutes as if trying to discern something, then put a pleasant smile on her face.


    ¡°Well, my apologies for saving your life,¡± she said, her voice clipped and tight. ¡°Next time I¡¯ll just leave you to bleed out.¡± She got to her feet, whirling towards the door, and slammed it behind her with enough force to make even Kess flinch.


    Kess closed her eyes, settling back against the pillows. There was little she could tell the woman without sounding insane. How did it make sense that healing left her jumpy and irritated for days on end? How could she explain that her hair would stand on end for days and her skin would crawl with the same distinct feeling as it did before a Lightstorm struck?


    And then there was the minor issue of the woman being Fulminant. Healer or not, she should be avoided at all costs. Kess would have to figure out a way to pay her debt to the woman, though; she hated owing anyone anything.


    The thought of debts made her reach instinctively to her shirt, searching for the bag of gold tucked away. But of course, her clothes were gone, likely ruined by her injuries. She wore a simple shirt and undergarments, but mercifully found her bag nearby. Her fresh clothes were there, along with a cloak, a few tiny personal effects from home, and somehow, the entire bag of gold coins from her fight. How any of them weren¡¯t missing was beyond Kess. These people were fools to not take advantage of her.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Still, as she weighed the bloody bag of coins in her hand, she knew that paying the woman wouldn¡¯t be enough. This was a life debt, and it would be a long time before she would be free of something like that. She scowled, pulling a gold coin from the bag. If only paying everyone was as simple as paying Mattes.


    She got to her feet, wincing as she inspected the fresh bandages. While Fulminant healing would leave her on edge for days, it at least gave her a head start on the blood loss. She slowly pulled on her clothing, gingerly over the wounds. Kess was used to bruises, but actual wounds were something else entirely. She scowled as her small movements produced a warm sensation and the bandage flowered with blood. Fulminant magic wasn¡¯t a miracle, and this kind of injury wouldn¡¯t be something she could shrug off.


    Still, maybe she could gather some information from these people and¡ª


    She froze, staring at the walls. Something flickered in her vision ever so slightly, the stone walls obscured as if by smoke, with a slight tinge of blue light.


    The whole place was crawling with Fulminant spells.


    No, she wouldn¡¯t be gathering information from these people. She would leave as fast as possible. Oliver would have other addresses to try in his home, surely.


    Her boots were on, clothes changed, and bag slung over her shoulders before she could spare another thought. She padded to the door in her well-worn pair of boots, stuffing the gold back inside her shirt for good measure. There was a slight limp to her gait, but she would have to tolerate it. Anything to get out of the cursed place.


    She opened the door, wincing at the creak. Voices and laughter hit her, but from further off in the building, and mercifully there were no guards on the door. Kess peered out of the crack, and mercifully, spotted a large staircase at the end of the hallway. That would likely be the way out, but these people would be fools not to have someone watch the front door. They were also fools not to take your gold, she reminded herself.


    Kess slipped out of the door. People were out and about in the manor, though most were busy with the daily tasks of living. The place would have shocked Kess in its size and and grandeur if she hadn¡¯t spent a childhood surrounded by actual castles and keeps. Even so, the place was impressive¡ª especially given its relatively unassuming outside appearance.


    She limped slightly as she crested the staircase, but years of living Downhill had taught her that confidence was key when moving through an area where you didn¡¯t belong. She willed everyone to ignore her with a quick, confident stride, and was feeling rather pleased with herself until she ran straight into the man who¡¯d first opened the door for her.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± he asked, a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off without thinking, and immediately regretted it as pain lanced through her arm. Her manners and sense of decorum went with her composure.


    ¡°Look, door boy, I thought someone here would have information, but I¡¯m not about to be here when the Witchblades come asking for information about that disaster up the street. So if you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡ª¡°


    ¡°You won¡¯t find what you¡¯re looking for out there,¡± the man said quietly, jerking his head towards the door. He held her gaze calmly, which was rather infuriating since Kess had intentionally been trying to provoke the man. ¡°If a Marked girl goes to every tavern in town, asking questions about a missing man not long after half of Riverside was blown to pieces, who do you think the Blueblades will focus on?¡±


    ¡°The information I¡¯m looking for isn¡¯t in a tavern anyway,¡± Kess started. ¡°I¡ª¡°


    ¡°Do you have a place to stay for the night?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m not homeless.¡±


    ¡°For the sake of whoever you¡¯re staying with, I hope they¡¯re very well hidden.¡± He paused, then added, ¡°You came from Riverside, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Kess avoided his eyes. His pointed comment about the safety of anyone she sought for help hit her like a blow. Perhaps she couldn¡¯t go back to Draven, not with what she¡¯d done. But to stay here¡­


    ¡°Why are you so eager to house a liability yourself?¡± she snapped. ¡°If you think I¡¯m responsible for that mess in Riverside, then why would you subject everyone in this building to whoever caused it?¡±


    In her anger, a tiny trail of lightning snaked down Kess¡¯s arm. She let out a little gasp and snapped her fist shut, snuffing it out. The dark haired man watched her intently, his eyes oddly hungry.


    ¡°Because I believe we can help each other,¡± he said. He unfurled a familiar, bloody envelope from his pocket and smiled at her.

 Chapter 20: Protecting Their Own

    Fulminant wards or not, Kess shortly found herself in a sitting room, where she tried not to scarf down the plate of food in front of her. Perhaps she¡¯d lived Downhill for years, but she didn¡¯t have to act like it.


    It had been hard to reject the very man she¡¯d come to see, and harder still to tell him no when he offered her a plate of fruit tarts, obviously freshly baked from the smell. They couldn¡¯t be that bad if their kitchen produced something that rivaled even the best Bloodring bakeries.


    The man called Rowan sat across the table from her, perched on the very edge of the couch, his hands clasped in front. He didn¡¯t take from the plate, and Kess slowed, belatedly suspicious.


    ¡°I¡¯m not being poisoned, am I?¡±


    Rowan gave a little half smile that did nothing to settle her stomach, and Kess didn¡¯t take another tart. ¡°If I¡¯d wanted to drug you it would have been much easier when you were with Claire.¡±


    Kess relaxed a little, though the Fulminant wards crackling outside the window made it distinctly hard to do so. She took another tart, trying not to let it crumble as she bit into a delicate crust. She wasn¡¯t usually so ravenous, but blood loss was apparently nothing to be trifled with. A few tarts in, her headache and dizziness finally cleared, and Kess felt that she could focus on the problem at hand.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem like one of Oliver¡¯s academic buddies,¡± Kess pointed out, eyes on his sword. A sword, of all things, in Hillcrest, she thought. He might as well just admit he¡¯s a thug. Thug or not, Kess had to admit that his dark, slightly curled hair and soft hazel eyes were a good set of features¡ª women would have been clamoring over him Uphill, especially with his bright red sash. Kess suddenly wished she¡¯d been able to wear a fake one to her fight with Moreen. Red simply didn¡¯t feel right to wear¡ª it was a color for merchants and businessmen¡ª not for fighters.


    Rowan followed her eyes and shrugged. ¡°People aren¡¯t always what they seem,¡± he said. ¡°Regardless, I¡¯m afraid my information isn¡¯t as extensive as you¡¯re probably hoping. I worked with your brother briefly on a project that¡¯s a dead end now. It was research on Fulminant insulators, but we found that few materials were sufficient for our needs. We shut it down after a few months and went our separate ways.¡±


    Kess¡¯s heart sunk as Rowan spoke. ¡°So that letter was months old¡ª years, even.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so,¡± Rowan said, and he genuinely did sound sorry¡ª whether that was due to his previous experience with Oliver or because of some sort of misguided desire to help her out, Kess wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you mention you were Fulminant?¡± Rowan asked after a moment of silence. ¡°You¡¯re not wearing a sash, either.¡±


    ¡°Because it wasn¡¯t relevant.¡±


    Rowan snorted, and finally took one of the tarts for himself. ¡°How are hidden magical powers not relevant?¡±


    Kess stared out past the walls, feeling as if she could see all the way to that dark alleyway in Riverside. Two collapsed buildings, a pile of dead men. Blood, splattered to the wall in places, and bodies twisted in heaps against the walls they¡¯d struck. The charred mark where a man had formerly stood impressed upon her vision like a stain she couldn¡¯t quite be rid of, and she felt the blood drain from her face.


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to be associated with something that causes¡ª¡° Kess gestured wildly with her hands towards Riverside. ¡°That,¡± she finished, looking away.


    ¡°They can be controlled, you know.¡±


    Kess bit back a bitter laugh. Now this sounded like a man who might have worked with her brother.


    ¡°They can¡¯t,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe the Council thinks they have them figured out, but as far as I can tell, the only way they ¡®control¡¯ the powers is to take them away from people who might be likely to let loose.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve known plenty of people who can control them,¡± Rowan said, dusting off his hands. ¡°Though they had smaller¡­gifts¡­than your own.¡±


    Kess kept her mouth shut. She¡¯d already shown these people too much by showing up at their doorstep not long after her incident at Riverside. Before long they would start asking questions. Kess had spent a very long several years trying to convince people to stop asking questions. She wasn¡¯t about to change that tactic now. She changed the subject.


    ¡°Why would you bother working with them at all?¡±


    ¡°Them?¡± Rowan asked, running his hand through thick curls.


    ¡°The Fulminant.¡± He cocked his head, ruffling his hair again. For a man with a sword, Kess thought he kept his hair excessively long. Maybe he wasn¡¯t a fighter at all.


    ¡°Well I wouldn¡¯t say that it¡¯s how I pick my academic partners or friends, but sure, we do have a few among our number.¡± He smiled tentatively at her. ¡°You say it like you¡¯re not Fulminant yourself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Then what do you call your stunt with the arena, and blowing up half of Riverside?¡±


    Kess shook her head. Had news of that tiny spark with Moreen already traveled throughout the city? It had been so small she hadn¡¯t even been able to use it. ¡°The arena wasn¡¯t real,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Just hearsay from people with more time than sense.¡±


    Rowan regarded her with sharp hazel eyes, something akin to appreciation in his gaze. Whoever he is, he seems to have Oliver¡¯s love for Fulminancy, Kess thought as she leaned back on the couch, wincing at her shoulder. Each time she¡¯d brought anything up about her powers, his face lit up. It was enough to put her on edge¡ª was he someone from the Council, looking for her?


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    But no¡ª if that was the case, he would have taken her in hours ago when she¡¯d dropped in a dead faint on his front porch.


    ¡°What about Riverside?¡± he asked.


    For that one, Kess didn¡¯t have an answer. She folded her arms and looked away.


    ¡°I¡¯m not parading about the city lording it over people less fortunate. That¡¯s what the Fulminant do. I¡¯m not Fulminant.¡±


    ¡°Well, by that definition you¡¯ve eliminated a fairly sizable portion of the city,¡± he said, getting to his feet. He circled his couch and finally leaned against the back of it, still facing her. He had a warrior¡¯s grace to his steps in spite of his unruly hair. To a certain extent, Kess itched to test his reflexes, but knew it would only end badly for her.


    ¡°You¡¯re suggesting that people in charge don¡¯t take advantage of those they have power over?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m suggesting that not all people want something bad for those under them,¡± he said, voice careful. Kess just snorted. In her experience, it was a very rare man or woman who wouldn¡¯t immediately seize on any shred of power and use it to destroy the lives of anyone unfortunate enough to be underfoot.


    ¡°Well,¡± Kess said, trying to keep her face straight as she stood. She wobbled a bit, but managed to mostly disguise it. ¡°It appears that I¡¯ve limped across the city for nothing, Lord Rowan. I¡¯ll be on my way before someone in your manor decides they¡¯d rather turn me in for an improper sash, rather than work for a pittance, so¡ª¡°


    Rowan intercepted her at the door, his movements quick and nearly silent. Kess frowned at that. She¡¯d seen movements that practiced only in the very skilled¡ª in men and women Downhill who made careers out of fighting. Who was this man?


    ¡°Not so fast,¡± he said. ¡°I did say that we could help each other¡ª¡°


    ¡°And you were no help at all¡ª¡°


    ¡°No help yet,¡± he amended. ¡°But I might know of another place you can find information on your brother. If he was working for the university, then he should have ties Uphill. I¡¯m not certain what he was working on at the time of his disappearance, but something isn¡¯t right about all of this.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d thought nothing of it before you showed up, asking questions, but Fulminant insulators were a key aspect of new parlor designs. They failed, so we left them as is, and¡­¡±


    ¡°And one of them exploded,¡± Kess whispered.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Rowan said, voice suddenly excited. ¡°Your brother¡¯s disappearance would imply that there was some sort of foul play involved. Tell me¡ª where did you find this envelope?¡±


    ¡°On top of a green notebook,¡± Kess said, taking the envelope from his hands. ¡°Gold leafing, a red bookmark. Why?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one,¡± Rowan whispered. He nodded towards the envelope. ¡°Maybe I was wrong about its age, then. Go on, open it.¡±


    ¡°I thought it was¡ª¡° Kess froze, looking at the bloodied envelope in her hands. It was addressed to this Rowan, but she realized with a start that it had never been opened. She¡¯d been in a rush that afternoon, and after the fight with Moreen she hadn¡¯t even thought to check the envelope. The blood, of course, had not helped matters.


    She ripped it open and pulled out a succinct letter written in her brother¡¯s distinctive, flowing handwriting:


    Lord Northmont,


    I¡¯ve been looking into some old research the two of us have done, and some of my newer findings would suggest that perhaps we haven¡¯t reached a dead end after all. There very well might be an insulator for Fulminancy¡ª a way of stopping it, so to speak. I¡¯d like to discuss this, as well as the older research with you and see if we can¡¯t come to a more satisfactory conclusion this time.


    Her brother had signed his name. Seeing as it was addressed to Rowan, Kess handed it over to him.


    ¡°Northmont,¡± she said, a sudden memory striking her. ¡°The Dud son? The eldest? That¡¯s why you¡¯re so fascinated with Fulminancy.¡±


    Rowan¡¯s face fell a bit at her words, then further after he started the letter, though Kess couldn¡¯t figure out why. This particular Northmont son was widely known in Uphill circles for the stunt he¡¯d pulled with his father, which somehow involved cutting off his Fulminancy. Kess didn¡¯t remember the specifics, nor did she understand how he¡¯d done it, but after that, his very presence was not just spurned, but actively avoided at any and all social gatherings. Of course, not long after that, Kess had made herself scarce as well; she¡¯d never been allowed to attend the galas in the first place.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a failure after all,¡± Rowan whispered, his gaze distant. Kess pulled the letter from his hands and scanned it again. She couldn¡¯t find the awe or magic in the letter that Rowan did. She finally handed it back, disappointed. Some of the dizziness from earlier was returning, and with it, her short temper. She covered a sudden burst of it by leaning against the nearby door frame and crossing her arms.


    ¡°That¡¯s great for you, but how does this help me find him?¡± she asked. Rowan seemed to see through her cover, because his eyes softened slightly.


    ¡°Because this means that your brother¡¯s disappearance wasn¡¯t random¡ª and that I might have the contacts you need to find out more.¡±


    ¡°What is this ¡®might¡¯ business, Rowan?¡± Kess asked. ¡°If you¡¯ve got the contacts, then write them¡ª tell them a respected university member is missing and watch them leap. The Uphill loves protecting their own.¡± She couldn¡¯t quite hide the bitterness in her own voice as the words left her mouth.


    ¡°I gather that hasn¡¯t been your experience,¡± Rowan said quietly.


    ¡°No more than yours, Northmont.¡±


    They stood there in silence for a few moments as Kess felt the building rattle from the Drystorm outside. The wind was stronger now, spurred on by a desire to blow out before Lightstorm season arrived.


    Finally, Rowan sighed and pocketed the envelope.


    ¡°My contacts might not be willing to deal with me,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I¡¯ve had some recent success, but it¡¯s hard to shake the specter of what happened all those years ago.¡± Kess nodded. She understood that much better than he might imagine. ¡°I might be able to make some headway at court, but I¡¯ll need a distraction.¡±


    Kess wasn¡¯t sure she liked the direction the conversation was going. ¡°An excuse to be there,¡± Kess realized, her fingers going cold at the notion. ¡°You need someone else to distract from the scandal.¡± She bit her lip, thinking. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m the person you need to¡ª¡°


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you at court, and my father dragged me to every last one of those events before he realized he had a Dud for a son,¡± Rowan said, his words fast. ¡°You¡¯re unknown, a new entity. You¡¯ll be the excuse we need to get in and find the people who might know something more about your brother¡¯s disappearance.¡±


    ¡°And what do you get in return?¡± Kess asked, suddenly suspicious. Rowan smiled in a disarming way. Kess was certain she¡¯d seen the exact expression before¡ª in trainers right before they laid you out with a perfect punch.


    ¡°I get to teach you to use Fulminancy, of course.¡±

 Chapter 21: Stormsick

    Stormsick, Kess thought as she limped her way through the city. The man has to be stormsick. It was a term reserved for those who survived a night out in the storms, then came back babbling incoherently about creatures in the tempest, a visit from Mariel herself, or any other such nonsense.


    There were, of course, no creatures, no Mariel, and no talking storms. But this Rowan might as well have come out of one to suggest that Kess learn her Fulminancy from a Dud, no less.


    She had to admit, as she leapt up onto a dock, wincing at her leg, that there was some merit to what Rowan offered. If Kess had learned her Fulminancy long ago, she certainly wouldn¡¯t be dodging Witchblades at the peak of a Drystorm. She wouldn¡¯t be stuck searching for her brother, and she wouldn¡¯t be nursing the many wounds that made her dizzy and sick as she made her way towards Draven¡¯s.


    But clouds, she¡¯d tried all those years ago. She¡¯d tried and failed to master it, and with the best teachers the Uphill had to offer, no less. There was no future in Fulminancy¡ªthere never had been. Perhaps Rowan was a Dud, but Kess was something worse¡ªa lit fuse with nowhere to spend the charge.


    That was to say nothing of the other part of his offer. Kess had never been one for balls and galas¡ªor at least that¡¯s what she¡¯d told herself. Her parents had kept her far away from court politics for reasons she couldn¡¯t help but agree with; there would have been a target on her back from the moment she set foot in court with such an untapped well of power.


    Going back to court would be hard enough with the usual threats of political maneuvering, backstabbing, and ostentatious displays of Fulminancy, but it was more than that. Kess had avoided identification for so many years mostly because she kept out of sight of the very people who could identify her. Direct witnesses were long gone, but that didn¡¯t mean that she was entirely safe. Going back Uphill was potentially a death sentence.


    Kess only wished it had been easy to tell Rowan no. She¡¯d been flippant and callous with her rejection, but deep down, Kess was tempted by the offer. Oliver was as enmeshed in the Uphill lifestyle as Kess was Downhill. She wouldn¡¯t find him with her usual methods.


    It still gave her pause. Balls and galas were one thing, but learning Fulminancy?


    Kess shook her head as she stumbled across a street. The healing earlier had helped, but hadn¡¯t fully taken just yet. Her wounds tugged, her stomach rumbled its discontent, and Kess felt oddly disconnected from her body, as if she might float away with the Drystorm breeze. It was fortunate that Draven¡¯s home wasn¡¯t far. Perhaps Kess didn¡¯t know what to do, but Draven would. He always did.


    A small tap tap tap was the only noise Kess allowed herself to make in the alleyway, though she looked over her cloaked shoulder as she did so. The window cracked ever so slightly, and a short sword appeared, ready to run her through. She rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Draven, let me in the windblown place,¡± she hissed. The wind gobbled her words up, but she still felt too exposed in the alleyway. She peeked up at the buildings overhead. No sign of her shadowed friend so far, and she had been very careful to avoid any Fulminant patrols.


    The sword retreated into the slit, and the window cracked open fully. Wincing, Kess slid through the hole, biting her lip to stifle a curse as her ribs smarted and her shoulder seared from grabbing the edge of the window. She plopped directly down onto Draven¡¯s couch, leaning her head back to catch her breath as Drav shut the window above her head. Drav leaned back from the couch, took one look at her, and swore.


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°Lass, what in Mariel¡¯s Seat happened to you?¡± Kess tilted her head back up, frowning at her clothes.


    ¡°I thought I cleaned up pretty well.¡±


    ¡°Your face is the color of a windblown glass of milk,¡± he said. As if in response, Kess¡¯s stomach gurgled loud enough for them to both hear over the wind buffeting the window. She grinned slightly and shrugged with her good shoulder. Draven rolled his eyes and left through the doorway that connected his personal kitchen to his tiny living area. Kess wouldn¡¯t have normally come in this way. It was after hours, but Rowan¡¯s words had stuck with her; she didn¡¯t want anyone seeing her associate with Draven¡¯s tavern. Few knew that the window above her head connected to the tavern, but Draven¡¯s own rooms connected in a series of twists and turns throughout the building. He rarely used his own home for more than sleep, but he always had extra food lying about from the bar.


    Draven returned with a steaming bowl of stew and rice with a pile of fruit. Tropical fruit. He set both down on the table, then disappeared back into the kitchen. ¡°Where did you get that?¡± she asked, picking up the spoon.


    ¡°Even an old bartender like me can afford a treat once in a while,¡± he called out from the kitchen. Kess scowled as she stared into the steaming bowl.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t waste it on me,¡± she said, taking a bite of too-hot stew and wincing. Draven came back with a tankard of something and placed it on the table before plopping down across from her.


    ¡°And who,¡± he asked, leaning forward with his arms on his knees, ¡°am I supposed to waste it on, if not you, lass? Let an old man spoil his only daughter.¡± Kess smiled slightly, sipping the salty broth and working some of the tougher cuts of meat around her bruised jaw. Kess tried not to trouble Drav too often, but well, it was nice to have a place to go to. Her own father was long gone, in any case. ¡°Now, tell me what brings you creeping around to my side window in the middle of the night.¡±


    Kess lost her smile, and suddenly the stew seemed rather tasteless. ¡°He¡¯s gone,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s all gone.¡±


    Drav¡¯s face darkened as he rubbed his beard. ¡°So I take it the fight didn¡¯t go your way.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly. I won.¡± She took another sip of the stew and watched Drav¡¯s eyes go wide for just a moment before he mastered his expression. He hadn¡¯t thrived for so long Downhill by wearing his emotions on his sleeve. He took a sip of the tankard he had brought out for himself.


    ¡°Well, if you call that winning,¡± he said, gesturing at her. Kess went to take a sip of her own drink, but paused, frowning.


    ¡°No ale?¡± She twisted her mouth distastefully at the drink. It had the bitter, earthy smell of tea. Clouds take it all. Drav chuckled quietly across from her.


    ¡°Lass, if the way you¡¯re moving and the color of your face is any indication, you¡¯ve got a lot more than bruises going on. Blood loss and ale don¡¯t mix, not with a girl your size.¡±


    Kess made a face and downed the drink. She was hardly a girl anymore at twenty-two years old, but Draven was more than old enough to be her father, so she let the word slide without comment. Certainly her small frame convinced many people she was much younger than she looked. Draven watched her carefully, waiting for more.


    Kess worked through the details of the night before, leaving out some details of her argument with Oliver. She couldn¡¯t figure out a way to avoid the subject of her encounter with Rowan and the woman Claire¡ªnot with her wounds patched up so professionally. Draven whistled slowly when she was done.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a heap of trouble,¡± he said darkly. ¡°You¡¯ll need to lie low for a bit, lass. Keep your head down. You can stay here, no charge, though¡ª¡° he laughed slightly. ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll have problems paying me for anything with the kind of sum that bastard Mattes was wagering against you.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate the offer, but I can¡¯t stay here, Drav,¡± Kess said. She popped the last bit of bread into her mouth, wincing again at her sore jaw. She had known that going back into the city might attract attention, but it had been worth it to see Drav one last time. Drav¡¯s place was as much of a home as she had now. But she couldn¡¯t stay here while Oliver was at the mercy of the Uphill, or worse, the Council.


    ¡°I have to get him back,¡± she whispered.

 Chapter 22: Shaped by Storm

    Drav scowled back at her, his tankard forgotten. ¡°Lass, you¡¯re liable to get yourself killed at that rate. If he¡¯s gone, then it¡¯s probably for a reason you want nothing to do with. The lad stuck his nose into Forgebrand business more often than he should have. It was mostly humanitarian, but you never know how the Uphill might react to someone like him taking any kind of interest in the folks down here.¡±


    ¡°My brother was working with Forgebrand?¡± Kess asked.


    Draven gave a little shrug.


    ¡°Nothing to do with my department, I¡¯m afraid, but when someone from Uphill takes interest in us, people notice. More often than not, it¡¯s bad news. From what I remember, your brother took an interest in food preservation¡ªnothing to write home about.¡±


    Kess stared at her empty bowl, thinking. Oliver¡¯s interests were varied and rather eccentric, but he rarely did anything without a reason. And Oliver had never expressed much interest in humanitarian causes before. He was a man so lost in books and research that he often forgot the very people he researched about. Whatever he¡¯d been Downhill for, it hadn¡¯t been what he¡¯d told Forgebrand.


    ¡°So Downhill is a dead end then,¡± Kess said, thinking aloud. ¡°Draven, what if I had a way into the Uphill? A way to mingle with university people, Fulminancers¡ªpeople Uphill who might be able to point me in the right direction.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be willing to do that, lass?¡±


    Kess stared into her tea. Just days ago, she¡¯d been unwilling to even associate with the Fulminant. Now she was considering becoming Fulminant. It was all too much, too fast. And yet she could see no other way forward to Oliver.


    ¡°It¡¯s worse than that,¡± she said quietly. ¡°I have a way in, but the condition is that I¡­surround myself with it, in a manner of speaking.¡± Kess looked away to avoid Draven¡¯s eyes. She hated lying to him, but her denial of her own Fulminancy extended far into her social circle. Only Oliver knew of it, and even then, Kess wondered if she should have told him at all. ¡°One of Oliver¡¯s colleagues agreed to help me,¡± she continued. ¡°But he¡¯s rather¡­obsessed with it all, Draven. And well, I left all that behind years ago. Is it wise to go charging back in?¡±


    When Kess looked up, Draven sat calmly, his thick frame taking up most of the small couch across from her. His eyes twinkled in a knowing sort of way, and Kess felt an even deeper twinge of guilt at lying to this man, who¡¯d practically been a father to her. Still, could she tell him everything? About her Fulminancy? About her previous life? If it was too much of a burden for her to bear, what would it do to Draven?


    I¡¯ll tell him eventually, she thought. But not today. I¡¯ll tell him when things calm down and we can sit down without worrying about missing family members and a city whispering of rebellion. It seemed like the right decision, but it was also selfish at its core; Kess didn¡¯t know when she might see Draven again, and she didn¡¯t want to ruin the night by discussing the darker moments of her life she¡¯d rather forget.


    When the silence stretched on too long, Kess continued. ¡°Drav, I...I shouldn¡¯t have come, but if I take this step forward, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to come back here.¡± She paused, then risked a quiet, unsure question she¡¯d only ever ask Draven. ¡°What should I do?¡±


    ¡°Kess.¡± Drav¡¯s voice was thoughtful. Kess risked a look at him, and he held her eyes. ¡°Lass, as much as I¡¯d love to keep you out of trouble, there are some things too important to keep you locked up here. Life is about risk,¡± he said, smiling slightly. ¡°The only question is, will the risk be worth it?¡±


    Kess scowled. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know,¡± she said. Maybe this was a fool¡¯s errand. Maybe she wouldn¡¯t be able to reach Oliver in time. Only one thing crystallized in her muddied thoughts¡ªshe couldn¡¯t sit still and do nothing.


    ¡°Well, none of us ever know, lass. That¡¯s the issue,¡± he said, laughing. ¡°If we knew what every corner had in store, I imagine we¡¯d have easier times of it, no?¡± Kess smiled in spite of herself.


    ¡°What if the right decision is just to do nothing? How would I know?¡± she asked suddenly. ¡°Maybe I should just go home, let the Witchblades sort it out. People disappear Downhill all the time.¡° Kess said the words, but they left a bitter sort of taste in her mind. The rest of the Downhill did deal with disappearances in the way she¡¯d described, but it was more than Kess¡¯s dislike for the Witchblades that gave her pause; Kess wasn¡¯t certain she had it in her to spend each day waiting, hoping that news would come of her brother. She had to do something, even if those actions seemed useless and meandering. Drav scratched at his beard thoughtfully.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s the wrong question to ask,¡± he said. ¡°The right one, I think, is if you could live with yourself if you did nothing.¡±


    Kess already knew the answer to that.


    ¡°Lass, at least stay the night. What you¡¯ve got going on under that cloak is no joke, and I¡¯d like to avoid finding you a block away, passed out on the street.¡±


    Kess wanted to argue, and indeed she¡¯d meant to retreat either back to Rowan¡¯s manor or somewhere else entirely, but sleep was already tugging at her, heavy and insistent. Drav was right¡ªrushing out with no rest was a fool¡¯s errand. ¡°I¡¯ll stay,¡± she said. ¡°Thank you for the meal.¡±


    ¡°Anytime, lass.¡± There was a pause, and then Draven spoke again. ¡°Kess.¡± His voice was thoughtful, and Kess looked up. Draven was well into his fifties, but the way he looked at her now, Kess marveled at how much hope she saw in the man¡¯s eyes. Indeed, instead of being beaten down by a life that couldn¡¯t have been easy, Draven insistently held onto a shred of hope that others had lost. Kess saw that hope in his eyes, somehow, when he looked at her. She tried not to squirm uncomfortably.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Lass, promise me something,¡± he said, his eyes now serious and solemn. ¡°Promise me you won¡¯t give up.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never given up.¡±


    ¡°Aye, lass, you¡¯re tenacious when you want to be, but this one is different.¡± He looked above her head to the tiny window, where oddly, Kess saw a flash of lightning reflected in his eyes¡ªan early Lightstorm, perhaps. ¡°A storm¡¯s coming, lass. That storm will try to make you something you¡¯re not¡ªto break you and shape you into a woman you can¡¯t be.¡± He leaned over the table and took her hand, gently. ¡°When that storm washes away everything, don¡¯t let it take away who you are.¡±


    Kess simply scowled at him, confused. ¡°Drav, what¡¯s gotten into¡ª¡°


    Still solemn, Drav placed something in her hands, wrapping her fingers around it tightly. ¡°Don¡¯t lose this,¡± he said, and got to his feet. ¡°Get some sleep. You look like the ghost of Mariel you¡¯re always so ready to tell me about.¡± He turned, passing the other couch, his back to Kess. Horrifyingly, at that moment, Kess felt just a tiny tendril of Fulminancy weave its way down her arm. She shook at it, and it disappeared, but Draven paused and gazed at her again, his eyes knowing.


    ¡°Lass, one more thing.¡±


    She tilted her head questioningly.


    ¡°Learn to control it.¡±


    Kess started. ¡°How did you know?¡± Draven let out a small laugh, and Kess wasn¡¯t entirely sure she¡¯d hidden her Fulminancy in time, as his eyes drifted to her arm.


    ¡°You spend enough time here¡ªI¡¯d be blind not to notice. Out there you put on a good face, but here you let your guard down. I¡¯ve seen little sparks like that for the last few years. At first I thought they were a trick of the eyes, but then you started winning those matches against Fulminant fighters that Mattes put you up to.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Seemed too big of a coincidence to me. Maybe you weren¡¯t harnessing those powers, but even latent Fulminancy can make you faster and stronger, to a certain extent.¡±


    Well, there went that secret, Kess thought, sighing. She¡¯d been so careful, and yet, perhaps it was nearly impossible to hide it around someone she spent so much time with¡ªparticularly someone like Draven, who noticed just about everything.


    ¡°I¡¯m not learning anything,¡± she said, folding her arms. ¡°I don¡¯t even want to fight again if they give me an advantage.¡± The idea that Kess¡¯s success in the ring might have less to do with her skill and more to do with her Fulminancy made her downright nauseated¡ªunless that was the blood loss. What was she now, if not a successful Bloodcrawler? A cheating Fulminant fighter? ¡°Is this some new Forgebrand thing?¡± Kess asked. ¡°Some sort of¡­¡± She waved her hands. ¡°¡­encourage young Fulminancers to become like Mariel or some such nonsense?¡±


    Drav merely tilted his head and pursed his lips in a wry little smile. ¡°No, lass.¡± Then his smile faded, and he looked at her a little sadly. ¡°It¡¯s not about them. It¡¯s about you. It¡¯ll burn you up inside.¡± He looked her over, and his frown deepened. ¡°It already is, though you haven¡¯t taken notice yet. You¡¯ve got to learn to control them¡ªif not for yourself, then for the people around you.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡° Kess hesitated, her eyes on the table. ¡°Drav, I can¡¯t. Not again.¡±


    ¡°Lass, I¡¯m not about to ask you to divulge your past,¡± he said. ¡°If we¡¯re not born down here, we come down here to forget. But whatever happened, I can¡¯t think of a worse way to deal with it than bottling it up. At that point, the powers become a self-fulfilling prophecy.¡±


    Kess shook her head, her stomach churning. ¡°I can¡¯t control them,¡± she whispered. ¡°I¡¯m a monster.¡±


    Draven laughed. ¡°You¡¯re no more a monster than the rest of the Uphill,¡± he said. ¡°But if you don¡¯t figure them out, you won¡¯t last much longer down here.¡± His voice turned grave. ¡°The Witchblades have gotten more and more aggressive. How long until you slip? If you¡¯re not fighting, you struggle to keep them pushed down, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Kess nodded.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s hard to fight when everyone knows your name and thinks you¡¯re Fulminant. You¡¯d have a better time fighting Uphill where they don¡¯t know you near as well. You¡¯re on borrowed time, lass.¡±


    He sighed and eyed the window above her head again. ¡°And somehow I don¡¯t think that brother of yours is going to be easy to get to.¡± He nodded towards her. ¡°You¡¯ll need everything you¡¯ve got to get him out.¡± With that, he disappeared back into the rest of the house, leaving Kess alone with her thoughts.


    Her thoughts weren¡¯t necessarily friendly ones. It¡¯s just clouding like that man to leave me with a riddle and nothing concrete, she thought. Of course a storm was coming¡ªit always stormed here. It was Hillcrest for Fanas¡¯s sake.


    Kess opened her hand to a warming piece of metal, a thick, beautifully crafted ring with a fire opal glittering in the center. It wasn¡¯t Drav¡¯s wedding ring, but the other ring he wore on his hand. She had never seen him take it off in the years she¡¯d known him. It was oddly familiar, somehow, its gold and opals reminiscent of the locket she kept around her own neck, or the two stuffed deep in her bag, a dark reminder of that night so long ago.


    It was too big to keep on her hand, and too ostentatious to boot, so Kess slid it onto the chain with her locket, wincing at the feel of the metal against her skin as thunder rumbled overhead. Metal was death in Hillcrest, but some things were too important to leave behind.


    Kess curled up on the couch, too exhausted to haul herself to one of the guest rooms down the hall, yet too thoughtful to fall asleep just yet.


    Learn to control it. It was such a simple statement¡ªa solution to a problem years in the making. And yet Kess couldn¡¯t learn control. What came naturally to other Fulminancers had eluded her for years. She¡¯d tried, hadn¡¯t she? She¡¯d done everything asked of her, only¡­


    How much of what she did was tempered by a thick veneer of fear? How much did she hold back and withdraw from her power, even when she tried to use it? Her first use of Fulminancy had been such an explosive event she¡¯d destroyed an entire lake house in the mountains. After that, was it possible that she was simply too afraid of it to progress naturally?


    She realized, with a sinking feeling, that she¡¯d never touched Fulminancy normally after that first time¡ªeven on that night so long ago. She reached for that well of power in the same way that one might reach for a hot pan, only to fling it across the room and ignite the entire house in the process.


    And yet, what other option did she have, when Fulminancy produced such disastrous outcomes? Maybe she did need help. And maybe this Rowan could provide it.


    Though the idea made her sick, perhaps it was time to try something new. She would try to make a tentative deal with Rowan, though she wasn¡¯t sure she wanted to touch her Fulminancy ever again. Rowan, at least, might be able to help her find answers about her brother, which was her priority anyway.


    If he could convince her to use her Fulminancy and not blow the entire city to pieces, well then, so much the better.


    She was asleep minutes later, though she didn¡¯t miss the gentle touch of a blanket being thrown over her body much later.

 Chapter 23: Ghost of a Gasp

    The parlor still smelled of its charred remains. Rowan peeked in tentatively, though it was hard to pick out many details in the blackness. The Blueblades had cordoned off the building entirely, and passerby gave the entrance a wide berth, perhaps fearing that the rest of the building would soon collapse on itself.


    ¡°They never found who did it?¡± he asked Eamon. The larger man had agreed to come with him for the outing, citing a few errands in the city, but Rowan knew better; Eamon came to keep an eye on him, though Mariel only knew why. Eamon peered up at the building solemnly, his gaze darkened with grief.


    ¡°Happens sometimes with these,¡± he said softly. ¡°Most of them are run by the parlor¡¯s own Fulminancer, but ones like these let you pay a bit of extra cash to use your own. Like as not, it was someone like your Bloodcrawler friend with too much power and not an ounce of control.¡±


    Rowan stared at the ruins for a few moments longer, then ducked inside, under a beam that was cracked in several places, the wood splintering ominously. Eamon swore and tried to grab him, but Rowan¡¯s thinner frame slipped through the gap before Eamon could stop him. Instead, Eamon settled for grousing nervously from just outside the structure.


    ¡°The whole thing¡¯s going to come down any minute, and with you inside, lad,¡± he called. ¡°No discovery¡¯s worth your head.¡±


    ¡°It should be fine,¡± Rowan said, though he wasn¡¯t as certain as he tried to sound. Overhead, the beams creaked, and Rowan flinched. ¡°If it¡¯s lasted this long, it¡¯s not likely to collapse now.¡±


    ¡°The Drystorm would like to have a word with you, boy.¡±


    As if in response, a strong wind blustered forth, kicking up ashes in a swirl of dust. The building groaned ominously, and a few pops made Rowan look up. He froze for a moment, then forced himself to move forward. With courage and a bit of stupidity, perhaps he could find something that other people had been too afraid to examine.


    He found the source of the blast immediately¡ªa several foot wide radius around the twisted metal remains of two nearby chairs. Whoever had been in them had obviously been vaporized in the blast, judging from the rest of the building. Rowan crouched there, examining the black smudges as Eamon continued his litany of worries outside.


    This was where it was worst, he thought, following the explosion with his eyes away from the chairs. Evidence of its power was wedged into the wall as shrapnel of varying sizes and shapes, but there was a distinct lack of damage in what remained of the wall above the former window. Rowan stepped over the twisted remains of another chair to examine the window frame more closely.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Something blocked it here, he thought, heart hammering. Overhead, the Drystorm wind buffeted the building again, and an ominous rattle shuddered through the structure. Rowan picked through the debris back to the source of the explosion. Rather than the uniform char he expected from such a thing, there was an odd little bubble where no soot or char had been deposited at all. In fact, the line extended all the way to the window. He blinked, surprised. It had been hard to pick out that distinct line in the darkness of the ruins, but it seemed clear as day now¡ªa lack of damage where there should have been.


    Fulminancy could block other Fulminancy, but it was finicky, and was best saved for an occasion when a Fulminancer knew an attack was coming. Whoever was in that chair had no warning at all, Rowan thought, still studying the blast. They would have had less than a second to throw up a shield of some sort. A reaction like that wouldn¡¯t have stopped an explosion of that magnitude. And yet, Rowan saw evidence of its success right above the window, and all along the floor of the building.


    Was it more evidence that what had happened in his workshop was something more? Or was it some fundamental rule of Fulminancy that everyone simply took for granted? It seemed bigger than that to Rowan. He¡¯d often found that progress could only be made by studying the tiniest, most forgotten of things. It was when people assumed they¡¯d discovered everything there was to know about a subject that the most intriguing discoveries were made.


    And here, looking out over the parlor with the window to his back, Rowan realized he¡¯d discovered something else.


    ¡°Eamon¡ª¡°


    He didn¡¯t have the chance to finish his statement. A crack and a louder groan than before shook the building. Overhead, an odd sort of whirring noise spun up, and the hair on Rowan¡¯s arms stood up. Uphill or Downhill, every child of Hillcrest knew that sound.


    A Gasp.


    Beams creaked, cracked, and snapped as Rowan nearly tripped over himself in his haste to leap out the window. Only Eamon¡¯s yank on his shirt got him away from the parlor before the Drystorm Gasp heaved a massive volume of air over the building and flattened it entirely.


    Splinters erupted from the structure, and glass and stone alike crunched succinctly. Rowan threw an arm over his head and turned away from the building as a blast of wind sent debris flying into his back, several tiny pieces thumping him in the head with a sharp, searing pain.


    The eeriest part of a Gasp was how quickly it was over. They were aptly named for what most people had time to do before their entire home became a smudge on the map. When Rowan looked up, the building was gone, flattened by the strength of the wind. Perhaps it would have survived in its prime, with its sturdy beams and stone walls, but its former strength was now just a memory.


    Rowan winced at a few bleeding cuts on his forearms and one on his cheek as he straightened, and found himself suddenly grateful for Eamon¡¯s ever-watchful eye. It had likely saved his life.


    ¡°Well lad, if we¡¯d just waited a few minutes, you could have done all your investigation without worrying about the building,¡± Eamon said, dusting off his own clothes. ¡°Please tell me you at least found what you were looking for.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Rowan said simply. ¡°But I know this¡ªwhoever was in that blast is still alive.¡±

 Chapter 24: A Marked Woman

    Rowan couldn¡¯t get it out of his mind as he left the parlor behind. If the Fulminancer behind that parlor explosion was alive, then what had really happened that night? Were parlors truly as unsafe as his own experiments, or had that one been caused by human error, rather than Fulminancy? If Fulminancy was only unsafe because of how people wielded it, then Rowan could work with that. He could convince the public to accept something that wasn¡¯t inherently dangerous.


    And there was the other aspect of that blast¡ªone he couldn¡¯t help but associate with his own workshop troubles. Someone had blocked Fulminancy with something akin to his own odd power.


    Whatever it was, Rowan would find it. If only he could get that Bloodcrawler to work with him. His initial meeting with her hadn¡¯t gone according to plan, but Rowan was ever the optimist. If he could get Kess on board, then not only would he have a credible way to return Uphill, but he¡¯d also have a Fulminancer to work with. The very idea made him giddy.


    Days and weeks of tedious research, reduced to hours, he thought as he walked with Eamon towards Riverside. I could finally make some actual progress. A Fulminancer would mean he could set up experiments without time spent digging through libraries or convincing Uphill minders of his worth.


    It was convincing Kess that was the hard part. She¡¯d laughed at him the moment he¡¯d brought it up. It didn¡¯t seem a bad trade to Rowan¡ªa simple matter of her attendance at balls and galas in exchange for professional instruction in Fulminancy. Admittedly, Rowan didn¡¯t seem like a great candidate on the surface, but he¡¯d taught his brothers with few issues. Kess would be no different.


    Regardless, he¡¯d have to track her down to try again. It was the easiest path forward, and Rowan needed to make progress fast. He didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d do if his prototypes were less safe than his initial calculations. He¡¯d been careful, but what if he was wrong? What if someone was injured or worse because of what he was hiding?


    He pushed the thought out of his mind as they approached the two block wide swath of destruction where the Bloodcrawler had last been seen. Best not to think of that, he reminded himself. There would be time to rectify his mistakes¡ªprovided he didn¡¯t make any further ones.


    Rowan couldn¡¯t help but stare as they passed through a blackened square filled with what used to be buildings. Cracked rocks and splintered shards of wood littered the square. At the center, two buildings collapsed in on themselves in what had been an alleyway. Nearby buildings stood solemnly, a silent and empty final witness to their brethren¡¯s destruction. Rowan¡¯s steps slowed, Eamon¡¯s alongside his.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Mariel¡¯s mercy,¡± Eamon said quietly. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡±


    The Blueblades hadn¡¯t bothered roping this section of the city off. Riverside was near abandoned, but several smudges on the ground gave Rowan pause. Eamon caught him by the arm as he moved towards the collapsed buildings.


    ¡°Lad, not again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going inside this time,¡± Rowan promised. Eamon sighed, then nodded, and let him go. Rowan crossed the plaza, expecting debris, evidence of an explosion, or something else. What he got was more than he bargained for. Rowan¡¯s breath caught.


    The smudge was human. Or rather, it had been at one point. The outline was in the clear shape of a man, and several more were nearby¡ªnearly the full count of a Fulminant patrol. Trailing from each was the distinct mark of Fulminancy¡ªa jagged series of lines that crept away towards the darkened center of the alleyway, now shrouded in the collapsed corpses of the nearby buildings.


    Eamon approached and let out a low whistle. ¡°Never seen Fulminancy mark the ground like that,¡± he said. ¡°People, yes, but never the ground. How much power do you think¡­?¡±


    ¡°Too much,¡± Rowan replied. He stood, feeling sick, and stared into that darkness of the alleyway. He thought he could see a small figure huddled there, crackling with power, though when he blinked, the image was gone. ¡°She came from this direction that night, Eamon,¡± he said quietly. ¡°The Bloodcrawler. Do you think she¡­?¡±


    ¡°Who else has business in Riverside?¡± Eamon asked, his voice solemn. ¡°I can¡¯t figure out why she was here at all, though everyone on duty said she came from this way that night, so it can¡¯t just be coincidence.¡±


    Rowan had a hard time believing it was coincidence, either. There just weren¡¯t enough powerful Fulminancers running around to justify this sort of destruction, and Kess herself had practically admitted to the incident.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it,¡± he whispered. ¡°All those men, gone.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know the full story,¡± Eamon said, though his voice had little conviction. ¡°She could have been attacked, or maybe it was just an accident, lad.¡± Eamon¡¯s words fell dead in the Drystorm winds. Rowan fought with his stomach and his heart for a moment longer before turning away from the charred remains of the men.


    Kess had seemed fragile and practically innocent¡ªfor a Bloodcrawler¡ªwhen she¡¯d collapsed in front of him that night. What Rowan saw now made him suddenly doubt all of that. Had it been an act, designed to make him lower his guard? What had she really come looking for?


    Regardless, it left Rowan with few options. His best way forward was to work with a cowardly murderer¡ªone who, rather than learn to control her powers, had used them indiscriminately to kill an entire squadron of Fulminant men. Gifted with incredible power that could change a society for good, this Kess had instead chosen to wield her own power with the delicacy of a sledgehammer. It was typical for a Bloodcrawler, but even Rowan found himself shocked at the barbarity of it all.


    He¡¯d come to Riverside looking for answers. He just wasn¡¯t sure he liked the ones he¡¯d gotten.

 Chapter 25: Baggage

    Kess stood at the back door of the manor and tried to deal with her squirming emotions. Unfortunately, Draven had read Kess like a book; she wasn¡¯t able to stand by and simply let the problem with her brother sort itself out¡ªespecially given that his disappearance probably had something to do with her own antics.


    This Rowan¡ªstormsick though he was¡ªwas her only way forward. Perhaps he wouldn¡¯t have the information she needed to find her brother, but his connections Uphill would¡ªconnections that Kess had long since lost, abandoned, or never made in the first place. They would know where to look.


    There was one problem.


    Kess hadn¡¯t forgotten the men she¡¯d murdered at Riverside. Far from it, she¡¯d spent most of the night tossing and turning at Draven¡¯s as the men¡¯s screams echoed in her ears. It was another reminder¡ªone much more concrete than that of the Stormclap board¡ªthat Kess simply couldn¡¯t be trusted with her powers.


    And yet this Rowan wanted her to learn her powers. The idea was as ludicrous as it had seemed to Kess two days ago. Subterfuge wasn¡¯t exactly her best skill, but she would have to use it just enough to satisfy her end of the deal. He¡¯d said he wanted to teach her Fulminancy¡ªnot have her master it.


    She¡¯d have to try to get along with Rowan. The man¡¯s favor would be key to his patience with her lack of progress. It was unfortunate that Kess understood the exact swing of a punch much better than the swing of human favor.


    Kess sighed, her mouth already dry, and raised her hand to knock at the back door. She paused, then, on a whim, tried the door. It clicked at first, which was expected. A tiny shim of metal Kess used to pin her sash together remedied that, and a few more clicks opened the door. She quietly shut it behind her and leaned against it, smiling to herself. She wasn¡¯t exactly a lock pick, but residential doors were the easiest to rig. She¡¯d had a few Downhill boys teach her the trick when she¡¯d locked herself out of her own home once, and had kept the metal on her ever since, despite its bad luck.


    The room was eerily silent with the absence of the Drystorm in her ears. Kess stumbled through the darkness for a moment, the chamber a blur of dim, indistinct shapes.


    There has to be a lantern around here somewhere, she thought, frowning. There were no hooks on the wall, and her hand came away from the stone with an oily coating. Kess sniffed the air, and though stale, the distinct scent of smoke still filled the room.


    That gave her pause. Had she somehow broken into the kitchen? Maybe her mental map of the manor was wrong. But if this were the kitchen, wouldn¡¯t there be lights and people? No, this had to be another room, but what¡ª


    Kess froze as her hand trailed over something else on the wall¡ªa cool metallic surface with a tiny knob that seemed to vibrate under her touch. Kess pushed against it, curious.


    The switch flipped with a click. Suddenly the room was bathed in a blue green light, unnatural and sickly. With a start, Kess pulled her hand back as a tiny snap of her own Fulminancy crept towards the switch.


    ¡°Fanas and Faleas,¡± she swore quietly.


    Lights. Rows and rows of them.


    The very same that adorned Hillcrest. A chill ran down her spine. Though most were damaged in some way by a fire or explosion, it was clear that they were varying prototypes, spread throughout the room. Some resembled the long bars she¡¯d begun to see in the city, and others were a series of globes not unlike those which adorned poles outside of fighting rings. The assortment was intentional¡ªan iteration on a design.


    The lights were practically the only standing fixture in the room, besides a long table, a ladder, and a few chairs which had clearly been brought in after the fact. Looking at the lights a little closer, Kess wasn¡¯t entirely sure they had been here for the explosion. Someone had attempted to put the workshop back into some semblance of normalcy after a horrible accident, it seemed.


    But who would experiment with such a thing Downhill, and why? Were they building a weapon? Or just these awful lights?


    Shivering, Kess made her way to the door to the rest of the manor. The sooner she found Rowan, the sooner she could sort out her sleeping arrangements and get off her aching leg.


    She pushed on the door, in a hurry to leave, and felt it give way unnaturally beneath her touch. Her head thumped right into someone¡¯s chest, and she looked up, surprised to find Rowan standing there.


    ¡°Rowan,¡± she said, straightening. ¡°I uh¡ªClaire told me where you¡¯d be, and so¡ª¡°


    Rowan pushed past her, his eyes not on her, but on the lights overhead.


    ¡°Did you do this?¡± he asked, gesturing towards the lights. Something about his tone was off¡ªanger, perhaps? He didn¡¯t seem to be the same man he was two days ago. That man had been idealistic to a fault. This man hardly dared to look at her.


    ¡°There was some sort of metal thing on the wall,¡± Kess said, pointing. Rowan dug through a few piles of charred papers at the desk and emerged with a worn notebook and pencil.


    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t have turned on at all,¡± he said, writing. ¡°Not without some sort of initial Fulminancy¡ªwhich I assume you didn¡¯t provide, given that you laughed me out of the room when I offered to help you learn it. I only just put those up last night, so it¡¯s odd that Claire¡¯s Fulminancy still works.¡±


    He muttered to himself quietly as he wrote, and Kess stood there awkwardly for a moment before she put two and two together.


    ¡°Wait,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re the one making these? You¡¯re that rock-lover who keeps putting these up all over the city? Are you mad? Who would want these in their homes, their businesses?¡±


    Rowan paused, then shut the notebook and regarded her, his gaze cold. There were a few tiny cuts that hadn¡¯t been on his face two days ago, and his fine clothes were smudged with soot. ¡°A fair few people considering I¡¯ve just signed a deal with Lord Grandbow this very afternoon for more installations throughout the city.¡± Kess shook her head in disgust, but Rowan continued to watch her, his own gaze wary. ¡°They¡¯re perfectly safe. You, however, appear to come with much more baggage than you initially suggested.¡±


    He tossed a bundle of cloth at Kess¡¯s feet. Kess scowled at him, but moved to pick up the bundle anyway. It was charred and smelled like the Drystorm winds, though the scrap of cloth could have been just about anything.


    ¡°What is this?¡± she asked, turning it in her hands.


    ¡°What was left of those men you murdered at Riverside.¡± His voice was clipped as he spoke. ¡°A sash, perhaps, or an article of clothing. With so little left, it¡¯s hard to tell.¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Kess nearly dropped the bundle, feeling sick. That night came roaring back. The Fulminancy weaving under her clothes, so different from her own. The laughter. The screams as she brought her own Fulminancy out to play. And then the empty, charred street before her, a damning reminder of the reality of using powers.


    Kess refused to meet Rowan¡¯s eyes. She guessed she should feel something like shame for her actions. She hadn¡¯t kept her word and men were dead because of it. But those men were Fulminant. Some small sense of relief washed over her, followed by another churning sense of shame. Those men were dead, yes, but at least that neighborhood would sleep better tonight.


    Hands shaking, Kess set the bundle of cloth down on Rowan¡¯s workbench. She spun on Rowan, suddenly furious.


    ¡°What exactly do you want from me?¡± she demanded. ¡°An apology? Is this some sort of stormsick way of reminding me something I¡¯ve spent my entire life trying to forget?¡± She paused, gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. ¡°I¡¯ve tried to stop this from happening. I¡¯ve avoided using them. I¡¯ve tucked them away so deep that sometimes I can almost pretend to be normal for a moment.


    ¡°But do you know the worst part? I¡¯ll never be normal, Rowan. I¡¯ll never once be free of this, no matter what I do or where I go. The best I can do is tuck them away.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what caused this,¡± Rowan said quietly. ¡°Had you been able to control them, you would have been able to defend yourself from those men without destroying two city blocks¡ªif they attacked you at all. A lack of control is no excuse to turn into a coward and a murderer every time you pick up your Fulminancy.¡± He seemed unaffected by her outburst, though Kess¡¯s face grew warm with the thought of who might have heard her in the manor. ¡°Fear caused this. Fulminancy is perfectly safe if you can control it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± Kess said, sitting with a wince on one of the extra stools scattered about the room. Outburst gone, she felt like a piece of her had gone with it. ¡°I came here to agree to your terms from the other day.¡± Rowan straightened a little at that.


    ¡°Why would you come back here if you disagree with me?¡±


    ¡°Because we need each other,¡± Kess said quietly. ¡°And I¡­I don¡¯t have any other options to find my brother.¡± She glanced at the flickering lights and felt a wave of nausea wash over her. ¡°And if you¡¯re really the foolish man putting those lights up all over the city, you¡¯ll need someone to help you power them and experiment with them.¡±


    The statement twisted Kess¡¯s insides, but Rowan nodded calmly, like she¡¯d said the most reasonable thing in the world. He even looked a little relieved. He seemed to believe her, at least, though Kess had no such intention of working on her Fulminancy in any large quantity.


    ¡°I meant what I said, Kess.¡± Rowan moved a little closer to the stool where she sat, notebook still in hand. His eyes rested on the lights overhead, then fell back on Kess. ¡°You can learn to control them. Fulminancy is like any tool¡ªused incorrectly and it can be dangerous, but in the hands of an expert, it can change worlds.¡±


    ¡°Like you¡¯ve already done with your lights,¡± Kess whispered, looking at them. Rowan smiled a little, though it didn¡¯t quite meet his eyes.


    ¡°We can only hope,¡± he said. ¡°Tomorrow we¡¯ll¡ª¡° Rowan froze, frowning. Kess felt it before she saw it¡ªa hum of power that vibrated her teeth and made the hair on her arms stand up. She turned on the stool, trying to find the source, before Rowan shouted and something slammed her off the chair.


    Kess¡¯s head crashed into the cold ground, nearly knocking her out. Something¡ªor rather, someone¡ªpressed against her, their body weight making it difficult to breathe.


    Soon she found out why.


    Overhead, the snap of Fulminancy rattled the room, and the ground quaked beneath her hands. A searing heat passed overhead, even with the weight on top of her, and the crackling of glass and a few twangs of metal hitting the wall rang out through the air. Kess felt for her own Fulminancy like a forgotten reflex, and though a bit of it snapped into existence, it did little to stop the shards of glass from flying toward her arms. Her Fulminancy snuffed out, as if cowed.


    In seconds, it was over.


    The weight disappeared, and Kess rolled over, groaning at the pain in her head and leg. She blinked in the darkness. Did I hit my head that hard? She wondered. Then she realized.


    ¡°Your precious lights explode?¡± she demanded. Rowan didn¡¯t answer at first, though someone was rummaging in a cabinet to her left.


    ¡°You were the last one who charged them.¡±


    ¡°The last one who¡­I didn¡¯t charge them,¡± Kess snapped. ¡°I flipped them on.¡±


    ¡°And yet your Fulminancy was in the system when they went.¡±


    Nearby, a lantern flared to life in Rowan¡¯s hand. Kess got to her feet, surveying the damage. There hadn¡¯t been much left of the workshop to destroy, not after¡ª


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time, is it?¡± she asked slowly. Rowan pointedly avoided her eyes. ¡°This has happened before. That¡¯s why there¡¯s soot on the wall. That¡¯s why these prototypes are new. Your Fulminant lights are exploding. Fanas and Faleas above, you¡¯re as much of a fool as I thought you were.¡± Kess laughed, the sound muffled in the tiny room. ¡°And to think you had the audacity to lecture me about the safety of my powers while you play a dangerous game with those you don¡¯t even have. Oh, that is rich, Lord Rowan.¡±


    ¡°At least I didn¡¯t kill an entire patrol.¡±


    ¡°That patrol,¡± Kess bit out, ¡°attacked me. What did the city do to you? Oh, wait.¡± Her tone took a nasty turn, but she couldn¡¯t hide her rising frustration. He thought to lecture her on the safety of her powers? ¡°They threw you out because you were a Dud. So you decided to try and make something of yourself by using a gift you weren¡¯t given. And now what, Rowan? Surely you don¡¯t intend to keep this all under wraps while you play politics Uphill.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Rowan lowered the lantern onto the desk and stalked towards her, his face an ominous shadow. ¡°I do intend to keep this under wraps,¡± he said, his voice soft. ¡°The same way I imagine you wish to keep the news that you falsified your sash, took off with winnings you weren¡¯t promised, and murdered an entire squad of Blueblades to yourself.¡±


    Kess shut her mouth immediately as Rowan continued, his expression slightly softer¡ªthough it was hard to fully read in the darkness. ¡°You were right about one thing, Kess. We need each other. I can stabilize these, but I need funds and support to do so. Something bigger is going on.¡± He shook his head and looked at the lights, several of which were twisted and strewn about the room. ¡°These shouldn¡¯t have blown, even with your Fulminancy encouraging them. It¡¯s getting less stable somehow.¡±


    ¡°So you want to be in the thick of the Fulminant nonsense so you can get to the bottom of it.¡±


    ¡°Which is where you need to be if you want to find your brother,¡± Rowan replied. ¡°This is all connected somehow.¡±


    Kess crossed her arms, considering. Of course, she¡¯d come intending to side with this man, but the explosion had given her pause. Still, Rowan was right¡ªOliver had been taken by the Fulminant not long after looking into this Fulminant insulator, which seemed to have some connection to the parlor explosion, and perhaps the explosions in Rowan¡¯s lights. The connection was tenuous at best, but it was something.


    Kess let out a sigh and uncrossed her arms. Something stung, and blood trickled down her arm. Kess swore when she saw the piece of glass lodged there, and went to remove it, but Rowan caught her arm, frowning.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you shield yourself?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Shield myself? I¡ª¡°


    ¡°There was a flash that wasn¡¯t the lights,¡± Rowan said, his voice thoughtful as he held her arm. ¡°You should let Claire take that out instead of¡ª¡° Kess ignored him and tugged the small chunk out, flinging it to the ground as she met his eyes. Rowan sighed and released her arm, looking tired in the darkness. ¡°I feel like I¡¯m going to regret this partnership.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m already regretting it,¡± Kess said. She moved to staunch the blood with the edge of her shirt, which was summarily ruined by the soot, anyway. Rowan went to retrieve his lantern, though his eyes remained for a very long time on Kess¡¯s arm. What he found so fascinating about such a minor injury, Kess couldn¡¯t fathom. Her ¡®shield¡¯ failing was nothing new. She¡¯d never been able to use Fulminancy for self-defense¡ªwhy would it work now?


    ¡°Well,¡± Rowan said as they made their way to the door. ¡°I, for one, have had enough of explosions for one week.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t say I disagree.¡±

 Chapter 26: Not Another Brave Man

    Kess found her new lodgings oddly comforting despite their proximity to Fulminant wards that hummed just outside her window. Many found the wards comforting¡ªa sort of extra guard that would alert occupants to any trespassers or burglars. Kess mostly just found them unsettling. The woman Claire, at least, was far across the manor.


    After their incident in his workshop, Rowan had led Kess to Arlette¡ªa bossy and distracted woman who looked at Kess like a butcher might look at a freshly slaughtered pig. Still, she¡¯d been gracious enough to offer lodging and food, and had turned down Kess¡¯s payment when she¡¯d offered.


    ¡°Your work with Rowan is payment enough,¡± she¡¯d said. Kess doubted that, but debt was a powerful tool and obviously one this Arlette wished to use.


    Of course, it quickly became apparent that Kess wouldn¡¯t have much of anywhere else to go.


    ¡°Bounty?¡± Kess asked. She¡¯d visited Arlette¡¯s tiny office a week later, intending to offer to run errands for the woman¡ªanything to escape the manor and pay down some of the debt that she was certain she was accruing. Instead, Arlette bade her to stay inside.


    Arlette sighed, clearly impatient. She carried herself like a much younger woman, but Kess saw from the fine lines around her eyes that she was already well into her thirties. ¡°Of course. You thought that blowing several blocks of the city sky high, falsifying your sash, and reneging on your deal as a Bloodcrawler wouldn¡¯t have consequences? Finding people like you is exactly why they encourage lower city rings so much. You¡¯re a marked woman.¡± Her eyes fell on the lightning mark on Kess¡¯s cheek, fading some, but still very visible. ¡°In more ways than one,¡± she added. ¡°Though you did make me a tidy sum off that fight¡ªexcellent work, by the way. The odds of you surviving that were one in five thousand, two hundred and fifty-six.¡±


    She chuckled to herself and went back to scrawling in her tiny notebook. Kess said nothing. Of course, she¡¯d known what she was doing, but in the light of the day, she wondered if it had been particularly wise or well thought out. All the chaos would have been worth it if she had been able to leave the city, but without her brother, it seemed rather foolish.


    ¡°Why not turn me in, then?¡± Kess asked. ¡°If I¡¯m worth as much as you say, you¡¯d never have to work again.¡±


    Arlette snorted, sharing a look with Rowan, who stood in the corner, hand on his sword¡ªdamnable man. ¡°We¡¯ll manage. The funds I made from your fight in Redhill should put the manor up for the next year. Besides helping Rowan, you¡¯re free to do as you wish, but I doubt you¡¯ll be welcomed back into your old life, anyway.¡± Something dropped in Kess¡¯s stomach. She hadn¡¯t thought of that. With a bounty on her head, she would be hard pressed to fight again. Maybe I can convince someone in the Pits to let me in anonymously, she thought. It seemed unlikely, but she would have to try. That, or learn the hard way just how effective fighting had been for containing her Fulminancy.


    At least her debt to Arlette wouldn¡¯t come knocking for some time. Kess left the tiny office and spent the next week limping around the manor, trying to keep that snapping feeling from eating at her. Her Fulminancy, apparently, didn¡¯t appreciate being told to wait.


    The bounty on her head was vague, at least. A few days into what Kess considered her captivity, Arlette sent her a rather amusing drawing of a woman that looked almost nothing like Kess, albeit with the mark of Fulminancy running across her cheek. It was stamped with a dizzying reward.


    Finally, after spending another night tossing and turning, her Fulminancy a burning presence inside of her, Kess gave up and sought the roof.


    She shoved open the wooden door¡ªtucked away in an alcove against the weather¡ªand breathed in the scent of the cooler night air. The Drystorm was calm tonight, the winds having finally died down in preparation for the next season. Shopkeepers were making sales several streets over, the markets open late to catch any last-minute customers before people tucked away in sturdier buildings. Wealthier merchants would have accommodations in stone buildings connected to neighborhoods directly so that they could sell their wares without interference from the fierce lightning of the Lightstorm.


    Kess leaned against the stone railing and sighed. Her clothes and hair were clean, courtesy of the manor¡¯s miraculous plumbing. She¡¯d nearly burst into tears the first time she¡¯d turned the faucet and found steamy water flowing out. Her wounds were even healing up well in spite of her escape from Claire, though her leg did still ache fiercely. She would be ready to exercise again in a few days, or so she hoped.


    She looked up at the glowing light of the Uphill, the lanterns lit so prominently that the same glow cast itself on her skin even this far away¡ªan odd hue that mixed the amber glow of the Downhill with the greens and blues of Rowan¡¯s Fulminant lights. Somewhere up there, Oliver was being kept. Was he a prisoner? Injured? Dead? Kess hoped that the Council¡¯s business with her brother was simply a deal gone wrong, instead of some kind of attempt to lure her back Uphill.


    Kess fished under her shirt idly for her mother¡¯s locket. The touch of her skin warmed the chain and the locket, and the wind seemed to still where she held it. It gleamed gold against the glow of the city, the face inset with seven tiny fire opals. It was probably worth a fortune, as were the two buried at the bottom of her bag and stuffed underneath the mattress with the fight gold back in her room. Kess had never had the heart to sell it, though she could barely look at the thing.


    Tonight, as she flipped it open, the world disappeared around her.


    Screams tore through her ears, distant yet immediate. A Lightstorm raged overhead, uncharacteristic for the water that it brought. Her Fulminancy, untamed and wild, dancing with the storm. The coppery scent of blood filled her nose. Blood, and something else. Death.


    Kess snapped the locket shut and put her head in her hands, driving the memory away. Shaking, she tucked the locket well beneath her shirt again, its presence somehow both calming and terrifying at the same time. It was a reminder of that night so long ago¡ªthat night when everything had gone wrong.


    What would Oliver think of me trying to learn Fulminancy of all things? She wondered idly. He would probably say it made her no different¡ªthat her powers were a tool to be used¡ªbut Kess could hardly think of them that way. They were for destruction and death. Even Oliver¡¯s innocent Stormclap board had destroyed her home. Maybe some Fulminant were gifted with powers that would help them save, but Kess¡¯s would only destroy. She would have to fake using them in front of Rowan. Maybe there was a way to¡ª


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°So, do you make a habit of blowing up the entire street when you use your powers?¡± Kess spun to find Rowan standing there in the alcove, his curled hair mussed in the light wind.


    ¡°Faleas¡¯s scorn. Do you have nothing better to do than scare a woman half to death in the middle of the night?¡± She turned back to the glowing city, her heart finally slowing again. Behind her, footsteps echoed.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s really none of your business, Rowan. We¡¯ll work on them tomorrow.¡±


    So far, Kess had eluded the man. She¡¯d found excuses to explore the manor, and even a few to sneak back into the city. She didn¡¯t go far, but Kess was good at finding areas to tuck away. Rowan hadn¡¯t gotten much of a chance to deal with Kess¡¯s powers at all, which seemed fair given that she hadn¡¯t gotten a chance to make her way Uphill yet.


    The footsteps stopped beside her. ¡°So you¡¯ve been saying for the last month,¡± he said, some humor in his voice. ¡°Is that usually what happens when you use them? Or is this a new occurrence?¡±


    Kess met his eyes, scowling. Even in the dark, it was hard to miss that Rowan was a handsome man, his hazel eyes a pleasant contrast with his dark hair and strong features. He stood tall and straight-backed, as if life in the Downhill hadn¡¯t beaten him down yet, but then, Kess figured he was fairly young. Perhaps a few years older than her. He would have been the talk of the court in another lifetime, perhaps, but, well, neither of them lived that life anymore. They would fake it, but they would never belong again.


    She turned back to the city. ¡°I don¡¯t make a habit of using powers that might explode at any given time.¡±


    ¡°The rest of Hillcrest doesn¡¯t seem to have a problem with it.¡±


    ¡°The rest of Hillcrest thinks Fulminancy is safe.¡±


    ¡°And why don¡¯t you?¡±


    Kess hesitated, her eyes on the glowing market below. As antagonistic as Rowan had been, it was odd hearing that slight note of genuine curiosity in his voice. Maybe his last few weeks have been as bad as mine, she thought, risking a glance at him. His eyes were softer now as he stared out over the city. Thoughtful. Tired, perhaps. Kess watched her hands dangling over the side of the railing, and tried, at least, to be honest with him.


    ¡°Because there¡¯s something else lurking inside of it,¡± she said, following the line of lanterns as they wove their way Uphill and crashed into the unnatural light of Rowan¡¯s creations. ¡°Something bigger than me. Something I have no control over, even if I learned to wield it like everyone else. When I use it, it¡¯s like¡­like someone else has control over it. Like it wants something, and whatever it is, I can¡¯t provide it.¡±


    Kess fell silent and glanced at Rowan again. He appeared thoughtful, at least, though Kess felt foolish for bringing up her odd relationship with Fulminancy in the first place.


    ¡°You¡¯re implying that Fulminancy is sentient?¡± he finally asked.


    ¡°I¡ª¡° It somehow sounded more foolish out of someone else. ¡°Forget I said anything. It doesn¡¯t really make any sense.¡±


    ¡°It makes about as much sense as you ignoring your Fulminancy and hoping the problem will go away.¡± His voice took on some of the bitterness from the days before as he gestured towards Riverside. ¡°Are you satisfied with that? What exactly are you waiting for? The day when Fulminancy kills you or someone you care about?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t know Oliver particularly well, but he never struck me as someone who was satisfied with ¡®good enough¡¯. Clearly it doesn¡¯t run in the family.¡±


    Kess balled her hands into fists, the skin turning white with pressure. She whirled on Rowan, eyes stinging. ¡°Don¡¯t bring my brother into this. Before this Fanas-spawned squall of a month, I was leaving this place, and as soon as I find my brother and make sure he¡¯s safe, I¡¯ll finish the job.¡±


    Rowan didn¡¯t react to her outburst, or her choice of god. ¡°So you were running.¡± Kess turned back to the city, trying to hide the tears that sprung into her eyes. What¡¯s wrong with me? I can¡¯t even look strong in front of strangers anymore. Something had changed with the use of her power¡ªa clawing, gnashing beast that roared its anguish, ready to devour her. Using it had been an acknowledgment of everything she sought to push down to the bottom of a deep pit, to deal with another day.


    ¡°If that¡¯s what you want to call it, then sure,¡± she replied coolly. Beside her, Rowan shook his head again as if disappointed, or perhaps bewildered.


    ¡°Why would you want to run? With that much power, you could become a Seat. They¡¯re the most influential people in Hillcrest. You could change things¡ªreally make life better for people Downhill and Uphill alike. Why in Mariel¡¯s gray skies would you throw away something like that?¡±


    Kess kept her eyes firmly fixed on the glowing buildings, though she felt her muscles tense up at the mention of the Seats.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to know that your idealism survived your time Downhill, but the Seats aren¡¯t looking out for our best interests,¡± she replied. What was wrong with this man? Who would want the ability to snap femurs like twigs¡ªto bring down city blocks, to leave blood and destruction and death in their wake?


    Rowan let out a humorless laugh. ¡°It takes a special kind of person to complain about the very system they¡¯re unwilling to change.¡±


    ¡°Oh? What kind of person is that?¡±


    ¡°A coward.¡± There was a finality to his tone, like the conversation was over. A cool wind blew back tresses of Kess¡¯s hair, and she felt the truth to his words, and hated him for it.


    ¡°Perhaps I am,¡± she said, voice low. ¡°But would you blame a monster, who, born into a set of teeth that took the life of everyone they loved, starved instead of using them again? Would you blame a serpent who remained apart from everything it loved, rather than squeeze the very life out of everyone it held dear?¡±


    Her leg stung as a rumble of thunder quaked through the building. ¡°Men were cowards long before they were brave, Rowan. Who built the shelter for the brave man to return to after fighting the beasts? Not another brave man.¡±


    Silence met her words, and Kess continued, her temper spurring her on.


    ¡°And what of you? Here you have an invention that might make my incident at Riverside seem downright innocent, and you want to leave it in people¡¯s homes where they sleep? So you can play politics? Tell me, Rowan, was the Downhill too much for you? Did you cast off your golden shackles Uphill only to find it wasn¡¯t so welcoming down here?¡± She laughed bitterly. ¡°Just another Fulminant-loving Uphill boy seeking out adventure a few blocks away from home. You¡¯re all the same, powers or no powers.¡±


    This time, Rowan didn¡¯t smile.


    For several long moments, the wind was her only company, and she dared hope she had chased Rowan away with her vitriol. But he shifted beside her, and his tall, powerful form was hard to forget about again.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s charming,¡± he finally said. ¡°You not only have problems with the Fulminant, who, I might add, have committed the egregious crime of being born that way, but also with anyone born Uphill.¡± He paused, regarding her with a long, knowing gaze. ¡°And yet you¡¯re both of those things, aren¡¯t you? You hate the Fulminant, and yet you use your powers when it¡¯s convenient to you. You hate the Uphill, and yet Fulminancy nasty enough to destroy two city blocks doesn¡¯t spring up from just any mixed bloodline. So you¡¯re not just a coward, but a hypocrite.¡±


    There was a nasty edge to his voice.


    ¡°Rich coming from a man who lectures me about safety and duty while he plays games with the lives of people he¡¯ll never meet. Tell me, Rowan, what exactly am I so afraid of?¡±


    She met his eyes. The wind whipped up his curly tresses of dark hair, and she felt the warmth coming from his broad frame in the chill night air.


    ¡°Yourself,¡± he finally replied. Rowan strode away into the stairwell, the sound of his boots fading within seconds, but his words lingering much longer.

 Chapter 27: Monster

    Kess curled up on the couch in her room later that week, listening to the fire crackle and the Lightstorm buzz outside. Soon it would sweep through the city with enough wrath to burn down buildings that weren¡¯t properly guarded against its fury. Chiefly, though, it would mean Kess would be all too aware of what she kept locked away, deep inside. Keeping it pushed down would get harder without the fights to temper her, and the Lightstorm would make that even more difficult.


    It was well into morning, and yet no knock had come at her door. Kess was hungry, but the idea of facing Rowan after her outburst on the roof made her stomach twist. Rowan had been cruel, but Kess had done no better¡ªshe¡¯d been avoiding the man since, training be damned.


    There was just something about him that put her on edge. Not just his love for and interest in Fulminancy, but his stubborn ability to be so clouding¡­positive, even with his failed lights and blown workshop. It was maddening, and yet she¡¯d promised Draven she would work on her powers. That, unfortunately, required that she work with Rowan, at least a little bit. She turned Draven¡¯s ring in her hand, watching the firelight reflect off the opal. She closed her eyes, trying to picture her Fulminancy bending to her will¡ªacting as an ally instead of an enemy. Darkness met her. How in Faleas¡¯s gray skies am I going to do this without blowing the building to bits?


    Kess tried to think back to a time when she hadn¡¯t been panicked or running for her life when using her powers. There was nothing. Without fail, her powers were something she reached for when things became so desperate that her very life was on the line. And why wouldn¡¯t it be that way? Why would she reach for her powers casually when the results had been disastrous before? They were a fuse to a bomb, and the only way she¡¯d managed to survive for so long was to shove them down to a place so deep she could barely acknowledge them.


    Now that she¡¯d released them, however, she knew she¡¯d have to do something about them. With each day that passed, Kess found that tingle of her powers closer and closer to the surface. How long until she slipped, and something blew? How long until she woke up in the middle of the night, surrounded by a storm of her own making, unable to stop the destruction it wrought?


    Kess watched tendrils of lightning creep across the tapestry of the sky outside, then disappear. For all that Lightstorms made her jumpy, they also had a strange way of relaxing her. When that lightning came down to twine around her, she felt at peace. She shook her head. It made little sense, but perhaps there was a way to simulate that bond with the storm¡ªa way to make an ally of Fulminancy. It sounded ridiculous, really. How was one to make an ally of something so inherently destructive?


    But she would try, though the very idea nauseated her and set her on edge. She turned Draven¡¯s ring in the firelight, and the opal sparkled there, shimmering faintly with a tapestry of colors. She would try, if nothing else, because she¡¯d promised Draven. That promise, at least, she would keep.


    Kess made her way through the manor, dodging groups of people along the way. She didn¡¯t recognize any of them, but the manor was a big place, and Kess had mostly kept to herself for the past month. Most of them were in high spirits, even if they were hired help. Kess would give Arlette that, at least¡ªher people were well cared for.


    Rowan and his friend Eamon were nowhere to be found, which Kess was grateful for. Having Rowan loom over her was not something she wanted, and while Eamon was a nice enough man, Kess wanted solitude for what she was about to do.


    She peeked her head into the training warehouse and sighed in relief as she found it empty and dim. Then, something occurred to her¡ªshe stopped a kitchen woman and asked her to make sure that no one was in the attached kitchen warehouse. The woman seemed confused, but nodded¡ªit was between mealtimes, anyway.


    That done, Kess shut the door to the dim warehouse and found herself alone again. Boxes cluttered a few areas around the room, but most of it was kept empty for sparring practice and new deliveries. There was plenty of space to practice without worrying about bystanders, though Kess could do little for the building itself if something went wrong. Kess heaved a sigh and walked to a set of boxes in the middle of the room, resigned.


    There, she lit a single lantern. It wasn¡¯t exactly dark in the warehouse, but its few windows were set high in the wall above, and while they occasionally flashed with the Lightstorm, the sky was gray and dull. The lantern cast strange shapes around the room, warping and twisting her shape as it met the shadows of the equipment in the room. Her shadow stared at her, a grim reminder of what she now faced. Kess set her jaw and blinked at the darkness, bringing her palm up.


    It felt strange not to make a fist, but she didn¡¯t want destruction here¡ªshe wanted to take the feral beast that was her Fulminancy and tame it. Is Fulminancy the beast? A tiny voice whispered inside of her head. Or is it you?


    Kess¡¯s hand shook slightly and the lightning outside retreated, leaving gray skies in its wake. Without the flashing, Kess stood in darkness save for the lantern, her mouth dry as paper. But Kess didn¡¯t see the darkness. Kess didn¡¯t see the retreating Lightstorm. Kess saw herself crouched there, younger, bloody and broken, her Fulminancy crackling around her like a snarling fiend, her eyes unsteady and filled with tears. She shook her head and tried to blink it away, but the vision stayed with her, a visceral reminder of what she now tampered with.


    I couldn¡¯t stop it, she thought, fighting back tears. What went wrong? That small figure got to her feet, lightning crackling around her, a veritable storm on her own. The problem wasn¡¯t with her Fulminancy at all.


    The figure locked eyes with her, blue and glowing against the distant light of the lantern, a power building up within that she could neither contain nor deny. And Kess realized that far from locking this power away, she had let it consume and destroy her already. No, the problem wasn¡¯t with Fulminancy at all.


    The problem was with her.


    ¡°I¡¯m a monster,¡± she whispered.


    The figure struck.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Kess knew on some level that it wasn¡¯t real, but she willed her Fulminancy into her limbs anyway, using that sick feeling of fear and nausea to push herself to the brink. Her Fulminancy didn¡¯t understand that she wasn¡¯t really at risk. It didn¡¯t understand that she viewed it as the risk¡ªso it sprang into her hands, an unwieldy and buzzing force, growing into a crackling swirl she could barely see, let alone control.


    Desperately, Kess fought to release it, though it stuck to her like tar. She shook her hands and planted her feet. Panicking, she finally wrenched it free to send it soaring into a metal rack across the room.


    Kess¡¯s feet left the ground. She cracked into the wall and the room went dark. Kess came to with a groan. The lantern flickered innocently in the middle of the room, and Kess¡¯s younger self and her Fulminancy were both gone, replaced with the mundane warehouse. Wincing, Kess got to her feet and limped over to the storage rack. The metal glowed and twisted where her Fulminancy had hit, though mercifully, nothing occupied the racks to further distort the metal.


    A metal pole near the racks had fared much better, absorbing her impact with few visible repercussions. Kess put her hand to the pillar and hissed, drawing it back as the metal tried to sear her skin. She picked up a practice sword instead and slammed it into the pole with a clang. The pole held, and Kess decided it would be good enough. She¡¯d been lucky to avoid blowing the warehouse to pieces in the first place.


    Kess returned to the center of the room and built up that mass of energy, shaking, sweating, and nauseated. She released it and plowed into the wall again. As the room grew dark and the afternoon wore on, Kess lost track of everything but that crackling energy. The Lightstorm returned, singing overhead as Kess crashed into the wall, slid across the floor, and was knocked silly by her own powers. She had no idea what to do or how to do it, but she¡¯d broken enough promises lately¡ªshe wouldn¡¯t break this one.


    Far from becoming natural as she worked, her Fulminancy left her nauseated and frustrated, as if each time she reached into that well of power she became something worse. And, perhaps I am, she thought as she got to her shaking legs, stumbling back to the center of the room. This power corrupts everyone. Why would I be an exception?


    Even so, she kept at it. Kess was not one for subtlety, but if she could fight this power and master it, then at least she would be a monster with a leash.


    It was better than one left to roam.


    Hours later, or so she thought, Kess fought her way back to her feet after a particularly nasty blast of energy sent her flying. There was still no consistency in what she did, and if anything, she felt she¡¯d gotten worse as the day wore on. Her hair curled slightly with sweat, and her back was damp with it, though that was the least of her problems; her bruises from the day before were a distant memory, replaced with the bone deep ache of exhaustion and the sharp pain of several other injuries as her body protested its treatment.


    That pain would fade, but Kess didn¡¯t know what to do with the other pain.


    She felt it deep within, like her very spirit rebelled against this foreign magic¡ªa nausea and sickness that left her weak and disgusted with herself as she fought back the memory of that night so long ago. Kess stood shakily in the center of the room and closed her eyes. I¡¯ll never be free of it, she thought. No amount of practicing will take away what happened that night.


    She raised her arm¡ªheavy with exhaustion¡ªand willed her Fulminancy into it again.


    Nothing happened.


    She tried again and felt no answering crackle. Kess nearly topped to the floor with relief. It was¡­gone. That well of power still slumbered, but quietly, its crackling energy now a quiet hum.


    Kess desperately wanted to sleep, but instead wandered over to the weapons rack on shaking legs. She could barely stand, but using her Fulminancy like a weapon left her disgusted, like she was an animal rolling in the dead of a battlefield. She chose a hardwood staff from the rack and stumbled back towards the center of the room.


    Where the sword and Fulminancy alike felt foreign and unwieldy in her hands, the staff felt like home. She twirled it a few times, swearing as she slammed it into her head while she figured out the rhythm again, then picked up speed as the wood warmed beneath her hands, a solid presence against the whirlwind and chaos that was her Fulminancy. The strikes came naturally¡ªan extension of her punches in the arena with a few adjustments of the wrist. The room faded away, and she was in another time, another place.


    A happier time.


    She lost herself in the flow of that staff, returning to herself with each swing, the staff a cleansing balm for her spirit. A voice rang out in the warehouse, startling Kess out of her rhythm, and the staff clattered to the floor.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite good at that for someone who uses her fists for a living,¡± Rowan said, shutting the door. Kess collected the staff from the floor, blushing furiously as he walked further into the room. ¡°Clouds, Kess, how long have you been in here?¡± Kess shelved the staff and looked at him blearily.


    ¡°Since lunch,¡± she said. Only now did she understand the full extent of her exhaustion. She slumped down against one of the barrels of weapons, closing her eyes. ¡°I couldn¡¯t find anyone, so I came down here to work on it myself.¡±


    ¡°Kess, that¡¯s all well and good, but Eamon and I don¡¯t usually train today.¡± Footsteps padded over to her, and Rowan crouched before her, his eyes concerned. Maybe he was frustrating, but Kess wasn¡¯t entirely ready to write him off as just another fool¡ªhe seemed decent enough. ¡°You can¡¯t use it all at once like that,¡± he said, looking her over. ¡°You¡¯ll give yourself burnout.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she said quietly. Kess was, unfortunately, well aware of what happened when too much of her Fulminancy was used. It was a side effect of not being able to control her powers, then being forced to use them anyway.


    ¡°¡¯I know¡¯?¡± Rowan repeated, shaking his head. ¡°Kess, you¡¯ll kill yourself.¡± He put a hand to her forehead and swore. Kess¡¯s breath caught at his touch, but she looked away, trying to hide her expression. I really need to stay as far away as possible from Rowan, she thought. It was hard enough dealing with her own emotions¡ªshe didn¡¯t need to deal with the push and pull of Rowan¡¯s nonsense on top of it. ¡°Did you eat anything?¡± he finally asked after watching her for a moment. Kess just shook her head. He sighed and moved towards the door, clearly expecting her to follow. ¡°Food will help with the headache,¡± he said. ¡°And lots of sleep tonight, though I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll have no problems with that after we get something into you.¡±


    ¡°Rowan¡ª¡° He was nearly to the door, but Kess didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°I have to admit I admire your dedication, but Fulminancy isn¡¯t supposed to be wielded like a blunt force object. Clouds, you could have blown the entire roof off.¡±


    ¡°Rowan¡ª¡° Kess watched his back as he walked across the warehouse, but her voice wasn¡¯t loud enough to get his attention, and he continued with his tirade.


    ¡°At least let someone who knows what they¡¯re doing help you next time. When I said I¡¯d like to teach you, I didn¡¯t mean to turn you loose in the warehouse. If you¡¯d like, we can¡ª¡°


    ¡°Rowan!¡±


    He stopped and turned around. He seemed surprised to see Kess still sitting there, and something like understanding settled into his face. ¡°Fanas and Faleas,¡± he swore softly. ¡°You can¡¯t move, can you?¡±


    Kess just smiled sheepishly at him with a little half shrug. Rowan pressed his fingertips into his temples and came back to collect her. Kess was embarrassed, but well, maybe she¡¯d earned a bit of help from others, just this once.

 Chapter 28: Control Before Truth

    Rowan deposited Kess onto the couch in his rooms, though in hindsight he wished he¡¯d put her in her own rooms. Still, his were closer, and closer to the kitchens still. He leaned against the door to his rooms and sighed, rubbing his eyes. I was too hard on her, he thought, standing there. I shouldn¡¯t have called her a coward¡ªespecially without knowing her well enough to gauge her reaction.


    He¡¯d been shocked¡ªand yet pleased¡ªto find Kess working on her powers, but he had a feeling his vicious treatment the night before had spurred her into action. Perhaps Kess had needed a nudge, but Rowan supposed he shouldn¡¯t have been cruel about it. The last few days have taken too much of a toll on me.


    He¡¯d signed a deal with Grandbow, though with the stipulation that his prototypes would be released at a slow rate¡ªenough to buy him some time to get to the bottom of the problem, or so he hoped. Cashin had grumbled, but agreed once Rowan promised him cheaper yet brighter lights that he could turn more of a profit on.


    So now Rowan was expected to provide brighter, cheaper lights that didn¡¯t explode, while making sure that Kess didn¡¯t do the same.


    At least she hadn¡¯t blown the manor sky high.


    Unfortunately, Kess seemed to have a knack for getting her way, and Rowan couldn¡¯t watch her all the time, not while returning to his research on Fulminant insulators. Guards had seemed excessive, as Kess wasn¡¯t a prisoner, but he¡¯d expected petty thievery from the girl at worst¡ªnot this. Well, at least she¡¯s willing to try using her Fulminancy, he thought as he pushed off the door to make his way towards the kitchens. He didn¡¯t know what had changed, but he wouldn¡¯t question it either. Life was simpler that way, and Rowan needed something to go his way for once.


    Rowan returned from the kitchens with a pile of food in his hands. He¡¯d had to scrounge for it himself, but the cooks were good about leaving out food well past when sensible people would want to eat. He had a feeling a few of them were secretly night owls, though their occupation demanded such an early start.


    Rowan expected to find Kess out cold, though he had hoped to get some food into her first. Instead, he found her turning one of his wood carvings in her hands, a look of awe on her face.


    The woman looked like death itself. How she hadn¡¯t done worse damage to herself, he didn¡¯t know. He wasn¡¯t foolish enough to call Claire in, though¡ªneither woman tolerated the other; Kess spent as much time avoiding Claire as possible, and Claire, for her part, glared daggers at Kess each time she spotted her in the hallways.


    Kess looked up as the door snapped shut, and moved to put the carving down.


    ¡°You can look at it,¡± he said, setting the food down on the table in front of her. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    Kess turned the carving in her hands as Rowan unpacked the food. She looked, to Rowan, like she might topple over at any moment, but her eyes were discerning as she held the tiny owl in her hands. It was a carving Rowan had done in his spare time¡ªa simple one to keep his hands busy¡ªbut Kess seemed enamored with it.


    ¡°Did you make this?¡± she finally asked, eying the tools on the table.


    ¡°I¡ª¡° Rowan hesitated with the box he was unwrapping. It wasn¡¯t that his woodworking was exactly a secret, but to share it with her, well, it didn¡¯t sit quite right in his stomach. But he wouldn¡¯t lie to her, either. ¡°Yes,¡± he finally said.


    Kess blinked between him and the owl, something odd in her gaze. ¡°Rowan, you¡­¡± she trailed off, running delicate fingers along the owl. Rowan was particularly proud of how smooth he¡¯d gotten the wood on that one. ¡°This is incredible,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    Rowan felt a reluctant smile spread across his face. ¡°You really think so?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. Where did you learn to do this?¡±


    ¡°Eamon taught me a little,¡± Rowan said as he dumped some vegetables onto a plate. ¡°But he mostly does tables and practical stuff like that. The art is kind of my thing.¡±


    Rowan considered himself a fundamentally practical person, but while there was beauty in a well-crafted table, Rowan found more beauty in depicting the trees and birds he noticed on walks through the city. Several of his best carvings were displayed on the mantle¡ªa mixture of delicately carved, tiny trees, and birds of flight, though many of those had to be propped up with their own carving. Kess¡¯s eyes wandered to the mantle, and though she didn¡¯t stand, the awe was clear in her expression.


    ¡°You could make a fortune with that kind of craftsmanship,¡± she said quietly. Rowan just grimaced.


    ¡°Actually, I usually just give them away.¡±


    ¡°Give them away?¡± Kess repeated, dumbfounded. ¡°Rowan, you could have a career doing this.¡± She shook her head, setting the owl down gently on the table, though she seemed reluctant to do so. ¡°You have more money than sense.¡±


    ¡°Not everything has to be about money, Kess,¡± he said, handing her a plate.


    ¡°Spoken like a true rich boy.¡± Rowan said nothing to that, given the sack of gold in Kess¡¯s room and the highborn family she likely came from long ago. She picked at the food for a few moments, eating with less verve than she usually did, but at least she was eating. Rowan, for his part, had a few bites, but he¡¯d eaten earlier with Eamon¡ªit was mostly to make Kess feel like it was fine for her to eat.


    Her plate half finished, Kess admired his work on the mantle for a little longer, something distant in her gaze. ¡°Does it help?¡± She set her plate down and picked up the owl again, turning it in her hands gently. ¡°I mean, does it help you forget?¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Rowan watched her for a moment, small and quiet, nothing like the woman she¡¯d been for the past month. Looking into her haunted eyes, Rowan wondered if perhaps he hadn¡¯t given her enough credit¡ªmaybe there were some things too terrible to speak of. Maybe her problems went deeper than his own. Even so, Rowan wasn¡¯t a man trying to forget¡ªhe was a man trying to remember, so he asked her a question instead.


    ¡°Do the fights do it for you?¡± She looked up at him, thoughtful.


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Sometimes they do the opposite.¡± She cradled the owl like a small child might hold a favorite toy, and oddly, Rowan saw something in the woman that he hadn¡¯t before¡ªvulnerability. ¡°It¡¯s by design I think,¡± she said. ¡°Are we really supposed to forget who we are?¡±


    ¡°Forgetting who you are is one of the most common forms of despair, I think.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes¡ª¡° she bit her lip, watching the owl in her hands. ¡°Sometimes I¡¯d like to. It¡¯s easier that way.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you feel that way now,¡± he said. ¡°But who do we become when we fight to be no one at all? And how do we face the future, knowing that we¡¯ve betrayed the past?¡±


    His words hung in the air, and a quiet stillness settled over the room, punctuated only by the crackling hearth and the snap of lightning outside. When Kess spoke, her voice was quiet and broken.


    ¡°Sometimes our past selves aren¡¯t worth facing,¡± she said, handing him the owl and meeting his eyes. ¡°Nor are our future ones.¡±


    Rowan shook his head and pushed the owl back into her hands, closing her fingers around it. ¡°Keep it,¡± he said. She looked at him, confused, but something in Rowan was starting to believe that maybe simple kindness would get him further with Kess than his most recent attitude. Whatever her story, it wasn¡¯t a happy one.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, and her shoulders slumped unhappily. It felt odd to Rowan to want to fight against that unhappiness. You hardly know her. And yet, he found himself searching for an encouraging word to say to her.


    ¡°Kess,¡± he said. She looked up at him, eyes beautiful but sad. ¡°I don¡¯t think you should be ashamed of the past. Whatever happened, it made you who you are.¡± He hesitated, thinking of what he¡¯d said just last night. You¡¯re a coward. ¡°I know I called you a coward, but I was wrong,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I know few people with the bravery to face something they fear that much.¡±


    She nodded mutely, and stared into the fireplace, owl in hands, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Feeling a bit guilty and chastised for his earlier treatment of her, Rowan awkwardly left the room. If Kess wanted to stay the night on his couch, it wouldn¡¯t affect his plans¡ªhe intended to spend most of the night in the library anyway, which he¡¯d mostly taken over for the purposes of his research.


    With papers, notebooks, and various lights spread throughout the library, Rowan spent a quiet but frantic evening trying to gauge just how unstable his prototypes were. The results weren¡¯t good; last week just one of his twenty prototypes had blown. This week, though it was replicated on a smaller scale, two out of twenty had blown.


    He¡¯d recreated his prototypes on a tiny scale, with each light set into a recessed section of a board that would hopefully contain the smaller explosion of lights the size of his thumbnail. Two of the little bulbs were blackened and burned, the metal around them, charred.


    Rowan ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and wrote down the results, his notebook illuminated by an eerie green glow. He would spend the rest of the night expanding the board to include a hundred bulbs activated by Fulminancy in the hopes that scale would help him get to the bottom of the mystery.


    Having Kess¡¯s Fulminancy would be a nice control, if she agreed to use her powers more regularly. Perhaps Claire¡¯s Fulminancy was unstable, though the lights in his workshop had blown even with Kess¡¯s Fulminancy coursing through them.


    Regardless, Rowan needed solutions¡ªand fast. Emulating his prototypes on a smaller scale might help him find out just how widespread the problem was while the lights were still used mostly in commercial areas. An expansion to the residential area before he solved the stability problem would be disastrous. He buried himself in his research and tried to forget that he¡¯d betrayed his principles along the way.


    Rowan settled into the quiet work that would ultimately destroy his career if anyone found out about it, but his thoughts wandered further than his own subterfuge. Fitting each bulb with the required materials and the little puff of gas was quiet work, and most of the manor had gone to bed by this hour. He found his thoughts¡ªoddly¡ªon Kess.


    Her hatred of the Fulminant was puzzling, for one. Rowan understood some of that frustration, at least. He¡¯d spent most of his youth ignored or, in some cases, abused for his lack of powers. His family was a special case, however¡ªhis father was downright obsessed with Fulminancy and viewed it as a political tool. It couldn¡¯t be that bad for the rest of the city, could it? And Kess had obviously been born into a prominent family¡ªat least red sash, Rowan figured. She obviously worked very hard to disguise her accent and mannerisms, but it was hard to be rid of them entirely. Why would a woman born Uphill with incredible power hate the very thing that she was?


    Something thumped overhead, and Rowan paused. A puff of gas filled a bulb, and he set his tools down, blinking at the dwindling fireplace blearily. What time is it? He thought. Perhaps much later than he¡¯d intended to stay up. Judging from the sound overhead, he wasn¡¯t the only one.


    With one last look at his setup, Rowan left the library behind and made his way to the roof. At the top of the stairs, the door was cracked, and the acrid smell of an early Lightstorm met his nose, blown in on the Drystorm winds.


    Rowan peered through the ajar door at the roof¡¯s single occupant¡ªKess, her knees pulled up to her chest, lightning dancing around her body, flashing against her dark hair as it whipped in the wind. Kess almost seemed¡­relaxed in its embrace.


    The lightning was a living, breathing thing, and Rowan stared, transfixed, for several moments. He had never seen a Lightstorm¡­play with someone. And yet that was what it did. The energy frolicked around the woman, twisting in a supernatural dance that Kess paid no mind to as she stared out over the city.


    Briefly, Rowan wondered what it would be like to join in that dance. This was power he¡¯d spent an entire lifetime wishing for¡ªcraving, even. It was power that could change the world in the right hands.


    But it wasn¡¯t his to have. Kess¡¯s powers, swirling around her, wild, untamed and uncontrolled¡ªthose were her gift and her curse. And, though Rowan recognized the inherent strength of that gift, he slowly realized the depth of her curse. He¡¯d been eaten up inside by the secret of his prototypes for nearly a month now, but what if he¡¯d spent a lifetime hiding something like that? And what if there was nothing he could do to fully stop it?


    What if it eats her up inside, day after day? He wondered. What if it really is as she says, and she doesn¡¯t feel in control of it even when things go well?


    Kess feared her lack of control. But didn¡¯t Rowan fear the same? Hadn¡¯t he chosen control over truth not even a month ago?


    As a final peal of thunder rolled overhead, Rowan finally turned his back on the girl who had everything he had ever wanted, but threw it aside as refuse, and wondered how in Mariel¡¯s name he could teach the woman without confronting a part of himself he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to face.

 Chapter 29: Fighting Free

    Kess trudged her way through the throngs of people occupying Dawnring, thanking her luck. It was early afternoon, and though by all estimates Rowan should have been awake by now, he¡¯d been quietly asleep by some contraption in the library. Kess had used the opportunity to leave the manor in search of another solution to her problem with Fulminancy: fighting.


    Her experience in the warehouse had been a shocking success¡ªit was the first time she¡¯d managed not to destroy the building she was in. Still, though her Fulminancy was now drained, it was as if simply acknowledging it had popped the lid on her powers. She was exhausted, but still her powers prickled at her skin, a wild and enduring force that threatened to boil over.


    In this middle tier of Downhill, people were out for some of the final days of the Drystorm, trading, laughing, and stealing, a whirlwind of human emotions. Kess was nearly robbed twice, but both boys¡ªyoung and inexperienced¡ªwere turned away by their ears before they could get their hands on her coin.


    For better or worse, she¡¯d left most of her coin back at the manor. If it hadn¡¯t been stolen this morning, it would likely be safe there for a few hours. Kess cut down several flights of stairs, dodging a shopkeeper brave enough to enter the crowd of people, and ducked through gathering fog into the mountain itself, where grates clanked under her boots. Here, the water would stream away from shops and businesses during Floodstorm season¡ªmost of the time, anyway.


    Even if it didn¡¯t, anything would be better than dealing with Witchblades again, and the Pits weren¡¯t particularly fond of their company. Even Rowan¡¯s stormsick rock-loving visage would be more welcome than running into more Fulminancers, she supposed.


    Arlette¡¯s warning about Kess¡¯s new reality in the rings was chief on her mind. Perhaps she was right, and Kess¡¯s career was over for now¡ªbut Kess had to see for herself. Even if she still had a slight limp. Even if the mark of Fulminancy left her easily identifiable. It was a foolish hope, but if Kess could get deep enough into the Downhill, it was possible no one would recognize her, especially with such a bad rendition of her on the wanted ads. Hillcrest was a big place.


    Rowan¡¯s words, though he¡¯d tempered them later, had simply encouraged her. If anything, she¡¯d needed to escape from the manor for the simple fresh air, sights, and sounds of the city. She was as much a prisoner in that Redring manor as she¡¯d ever been in a Whitering jail cell, just of a different variety.


    Kess followed several more flights of stairs into the darkness of the mountain and left familiarity behind. Here, amber lights were sparse for fear of thievery, and residents watched more carefully. Forgebrand¡¯s presence was lacking here, and it didn¡¯t go unnoticed. They sometimes patrolled less legitimate parts of the city, but Forgebrand considered the mountain¡¯s depths too illegitimate even for them. Here, few laws were followed, especially in the streets.


    She kept her hood pulled low, a part of her heart fluttering at every glance that could mean she¡¯d be beaten or worse, but the feeling of Fulminancy crawling uncomfortably just inside of her skin was enough to keep her moving.


    There were nicer parts of the underground, deep inside the mountain¡ªareas where taverns, shops, and people clustered together, beacons of warmth and sound, and people¡¯s clothes stayed drier even during the worst months of weather.


    The area Kess entered was nothing like the central areas of underground Hillcrest. The Pits, as locals called them, were a series of winding tunnels carved out long ago from mining expeditions deep within the mountain. Dark and wet even during dry seasons, the tunnels had a habit of ending in caved in sections¡ªboth new and old.


    Of course, it didn¡¯t stop people from doing business there. The Pits were far from Witchblades and respectable people alike, which made them the perfect place for business of the unsavory variety. Still, Kess knew several respectable shopkeepers who¡¯d gotten their start down in the Pits; it was easy to save coin for expansions when your rent was nearly free.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Kess trotted down a set of wooden steps into a tavern so dank there was condensation running down walls carved into the mountain itself. The wood rotted away beneath her feet, breaking off tiny chunks where she stood. Ignoring the glances of patrons that were on several forms of narcotics, Kess palmed a coin and plopped it down on the filthy bar.


    ¡°A fight,¡± she said, keeping her voice low. Like most taverns, this one had a ring for women and a ring for men, as was required by law. Lawlessness or not, no tavern owner wanted to bring Witchblades or other unpleasantries down on their establishment, even if the odds were low. The separate rings were an easy way to pay visible homage to the Uphill¡¯s laws on rings. Officially endorsed Bloodcrawler women were supposedly immune to prostitution, but Kess doubted that the rule held down here.


    The man at the counter sniffed, his head balding and his belly protruding. Thin wisps of greasy hair ran past his ears. He eyed the side of her face where even the hood couldn¡¯t quite hide the mark from her last fight.


    ¡°We don¡¯t serve the Marked here,¡± he said, taking the coin. A few heads turned her way, trying to peek beneath her hood.


    ¡°Since when?¡± she demanded. She eyed the ring wistfully, desperate to feel the crunch of her fist against another¡¯s face. It was so close. The bald man leaned down towards her, but did very little to keep his voice down.


    ¡°Since the clouding rock-lovers up there put out a bounty for Bloodcrawlers as are Marked,¡± he hissed between broken teeth. ¡°All of ¡®em.¡±


    What am I doing? Kess thought, some tiny part of her realizing how foolish she¡¯d been. This type of foolishness was something she did to forget, but when would her luck run out?


    A knife thunked into the bar next to her, and Kess jumped, eying the doorway. Too late, she thought.


    ¡°The bounty¡¯s large enough to put a man up in Blackhill,¡± another voice said behind her, leaning over. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and feel the warmth of his body as he leaned over her. The stench of mildew on his clothes was strong.


    Kess pulled her shoulders back and put her head up high, dredging up years of lessons from a past life. There would be no getting out of this, not without a distraction. She would just have to be that distraction.


    ¡°My father can put all three of you up in Blackhill if you let me go,¡± Kess said, fighting to keep her voice steady. A bold lie. Her family was long gone.


    One man guffawed behind her, but Kess was already palming a knife from the folds of her cloak. She wouldn¡¯t get to brawl in an arena tonight, but she¡¯d get something, at least.


    Or she¡¯d be dead by morning.


    ¡°Lass why would we let you go when the bleeding Witchblades are already on their way?¡±


    ¡°You know what they say,¡± another added. ¡°A cloudspawn in the hand is worth two in the bush.¡± Kess¡¯s head snapped up.


    ¡°You called the Witchblades?¡± she hissed. ¡°What kind of stormsick¡ª¡°


    ¡°We don¡¯t work for no Forgebrand down here, and we don¡¯t work for no Fulminant neither,¡± the bartender said, watching her. ¡°We work for whoever pays the best.¡±


    Kess eyed him, weighing the impact of dumping as much gold as she had onto the counter. It wasn¡¯t much, but¡ª


    ¡°I said I¡¯d pay you all handsomely,¡± she said through gritted teeth. She glanced at the door again. It really wasn¡¯t very far. If she could just¡ª


    Something whistled by her head, and Kess ducked instinctively. A bottle crashed into the wall, thrown by the bartender, but Kess was already moving.


    She swept one of the men¡¯s legs out from under him, her injured leg screaming in protest, and tossed him down with a quick shove of the shoulder. Surprise got her that alone. She tried to shove him towards his companion, and ran, using the chaos of the two tangled men as a chance to escape.


    She made it as far as the underground hallway before she skidded to a halt, coin in hand, as two Witchblades stopped in shock. Fulminancy crept into their hands to form swords, and Kess swore. Behind her, voices and shouting indicated that her brief distraction in the bar wouldn¡¯t be enough.


    She took a step forward.

 Chapter 30: A Burning Fuse

    A man came lurching out of one of the side bars, bottle in hand, laughing loudly. His hood was drawn, and he slung both his arms over the Witchblades like they were old friends, bottle still hanging from one of his hands. His lurch threw them off balance as he chatted drunkenly with them, seemingly unaware of their attempts to disentangle themselves.


    Kess knew blind luck when she saw it. She ran for all she was worth, her form small enough that she lost her pursuers quickly in the crowds, especially as she approached Dawngate. She slowed there, winded, as people streamed around her and the amber lights glowed in a relaxing hue.


    I¡¯m such a fool, she thought. What had she been trying to prove, anyway? That she could fight? Kess knew she could fight¡ªfighting was never the problem. It was something else, something deeper. She¡ª


    An arm thumped around her shoulders, the weight of a man pulling her down and away from the crowd, towards a crowded tavern sandwiched between shops.


    Kess tugged at the arm, heart pounding, until the man whispered in her ear.


    ¡°For someone so well-versed in Downhill life, you don¡¯t seem very aware of your surroundings,¡± Rowan murmured.


    ¡°You!¡± Kess gasped.


    ¡°Me,¡± he replied, and steered her into a tavern. Kess let him do so. With the adrenaline of her encounter gone, she felt exhaustion settle over her, strong and true. They sought a quieter area upstairs, where the tables overlooked the tavern proper.


    ¡°Why are you following me?¡± she asked as soon as drinks were left at their table. She downed her tankard, wincing at the taste.


    Rowan eyed her skeptically as she set the empty mug on the table.


    ¡°It¡¯s not even noon.¡± Kess finished the drink, her eyes never leaving his. ¡°Clearly your self-destructive tendencies go even further than what I just witnessed below,¡± Rowan said, taking a small sip of his own ale. He made a face at the taste. ¡°Clouds, woman, how do you drink this swill?¡±


    ¡°With great difficulty, unfortunately.¡± She flagged down the serving woman for another. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m keeping an eye on you so I don¡¯t suddenly lose my distraction before we ever set foot Uphill.¡± He nodded towards her. ¡°That mark might fade, but people¡¯s memory of you won¡¯t if you keep throwing yourself in front of them. Arlette suggested I track you down when I woke up and found the manor suspiciously quiet.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯d better be paying extra for that.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not.¡± When the woman came back, Kess ordered another. Rowan raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°So, your hobbies include fighting, drinking enough to put someone my size under the table, and what else? Gambling?¡± Kess shrugged, finishing her second drink.


    ¡°Sometimes. Frankly, my pastimes are none of your business, lightning-bait.¡± Rowan scowled slightly at the term. Kess had always thought it was funny, but Uphill citizens viewed it a little differently.


    ¡°Classy. Did you have a plan at all back there?¡± Rowan finally asked. ¡°You clearly didn¡¯t know those men.¡±


    ¡°I wanted to fight,¡± she said simply. ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°So you choose the most dangerous part of the city that neither Forgebrand nor the Blueblades police, so you can beg for a chance to fight in a ring where the rotting wood is more likely to get you than the fighters?¡±


    ¡°The fighters are better in those rings.¡±


    ¡°Maybe because they¡¯re desperate.¡±


    The serving girl brought her another drink, though she eyed Kess warily as Kess handed over her coin. Kess eyed the liquor doubtfully and found herself suddenly missing Draven¡¯s tavern.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± she asked, holding Rowan¡¯s gaze flatly. Rowan eyed her incredulously as she sipped at her drink.


    ¡°Because I¡¯m trying to understand what drives a woman experiencing safety for the first time in a month¡ªmaybe longer¡ªto throw herself headfirst into something unimaginably dangerous as soon as she has the chance,¡± he said. ¡°Those very men left a girl dead in an alleyway yesterday, thinking it was you. They didn¡¯t even realize the price on your head until today. The criers were on about it for hours, thinking they¡¯d found the Marked woman everyone is on about. Then they had to retract that story and replaced it with the bounty the Uphill has on your head.¡±


    Kess felt the blood drain from her face and took another sip of ale to hide it. It was all a bit much for a girl who, until a few days ago, had made herself a nobody in the Downhill. In most circles, anyway. She sighed, closing her eyes.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to understand, Rowan,¡± she finally said, scowling at the room below. ¡°Some of us just have bigger demons to deal with than whether or not daddy is willing to share his coin.¡± She leaned forward, looking him up and down, assessing. ¡°How did you get that far below without being robbed blind?¡± He looked far too rich for the neighborhood Kess had been in, and Kess had never known a topsider capable of keeping their coin inside the mountain.


    Rowan smiled. ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°Who do you think is paying for this?¡±


    Kess tossed her tiny bag of coins onto the table with a clink, rolling her eyes. She hated Rowan, but she had enough coin now to last her several lifetimes¡ªeven if she¡¯d only brought a portion of it with her. At least he¡¯s easy on the eyes, she thought, taking another drink.


    Rowan took the bag and picked through it, then swore. ¡°Clouds, Kess, you¡¯re broke.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean I¡¯m broke?¡±


    ¡°I mean you have almost nothing in here.¡±


    ¡°Almost nothing¡ª¡° Kess nearly choked on her drink. She lowered her voice, looking around. ¡°Rowan, that¡¯s worth two gold minings,¡± she hissed. ¡°Are you blind?¡±


    Rowan blinked for a moment, turning the coins in his hand. ¡°Is that a lot?¡± he finally asked. Kess stared, dumbfounded. He was foolish and rich. She took a deep breath and thanked the alcohol for cooling her temper. When she finally spoke, her voice was more even than she expected it to be.


    ¡°Rowan, that would feed a family Downhill for a month,¡± she said. ¡°Did you just crawl your way down here yesterday?¡± He smiled, though she didn¡¯t miss the slight flush to his face.


    ¡°Something like that,¡± he said. His smile faded. Kess tilted her head, studying him.


    ¡°So, let me get this straight,¡± Kess said. ¡°The very man in charge of all those clouding lights Uphill doesn¡¯t even know the worth of simple coin. This same man¡ªwho, I might add, is stormsick enough to not realize the blessing he has in weathering the lower city without Fulminancy¡ªis tasked with not only teaching me to control those powers, but somehow figuring out how to stabilize them for the entire city.¡±


    ¡°Not a very diplomatic way to word it, but yes.¡±


    ¡°And when has diplomacy ever mattered?¡± she demanded. ¡°Diplomacy is a pretty word that rich people use to dress up the blood they spill.¡± Kess flagged down the serving girl, who had been pointedly ignoring their table. Kess wasn¡¯t sure if she¡¯d seen the mark on her face, or if the copious amount of alcohol had scared the woman off. Regardless, it gave them at least some modicum of privacy above the tavern.


    Rowan shook his head as the woman trotted off again with Kess¡¯s request for food. ¡°Didn¡¯t you eat this morning?¡±


    ¡°Being a fugitive is hungry work,¡± Kess said simply. Rowan just rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Have you ever thought about solving a problem with words instead of fists?¡± he asked. ¡°You seem smart enough. You¡¯re poised¡ªwhen you want to be. The greatest societal institutions of our time were made with diplomacy¡ªwith learned men and women debating with one another. It doesn¡¯t seem like such a bad calling to me.¡±


    Kess just snorted into her ale, nearly choking on it again. This man was stormsick.


    ¡°If you¡¯ll forgive my crassness, that¡¯s a load of horse dung,¡± she said. The light in Rowan¡¯s eyes faded, and Kess almost felt bad for a moment. She continued on. He had to learn sometime. ¡°Look around you,¡± she said, gesturing with her tankard. ¡°What institutions make up our fine city, Rowan?¡± She nodded towards the fighting rings, present even in an upscale tavern like the one they now occupied. This tavern¡¯s rings sat in a corner, well-maintained, and less bloody than a lot of places, but they were still fighting rings. ¡°Our chief institution is a blood sport, used to separate the rich from the poor. Men fight and die for the chance to earn higher sashes. Other unluckier men are spotted for Fulminancy and taken Uphill for Fanas knows what¡ª¡°


    ¡°They¡¯re revered. They¡¯re given training, housing, decent salaries.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the official story,¡± she said. ¡°What of our other institutions?¡± she asked, suddenly thoughtful. ¡°A police force mostly tasked with keeping the poor out of the rich¡¯s business and tracking down their bastard children. Schools for the wealthy only, because no cobbler¡¯s son has the need for book learning.¡±


    She stopped as the serving woman brought out several plates of finger foods. One plate was full of tiny sandwiches, popular for ladies in this part of the city. Rowan just raised his eyebrows at the plate as Kess studied it. Kess shrugged and popped one of the tiny sandwiches into her mouth.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little dainty for your barbarian tastes?¡± Rowan asked, watching her. She laughed, but it felt humorless. Clouds, this man was irritating.


    ¡°I¡¯m the barbarian?¡± she asked. ¡°Rowan, you don¡¯t even know the value of your own coin.¡± There was that flush to his face again. At least he¡¯s feeling properly ashamed, Kess thought. She dusted off her fingers. ¡°Anyway, institutions,¡± she continued. To Rowan¡¯s credit, he didn¡¯t seem bored by the conversation. Perhaps this was more his wheelhouse than, well, currency.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°What of the Council?¡± he asked, leaning his arms on the table. ¡°The Seats? They keep people like you from destroying half the city on a daily basis. Surely that justifies their existence.¡± Kess shook her head, grabbing another sandwich.


    ¡°Both institutions formed primarily to cater to people who were born into power.¡± Rowan frowned, watching as the crowd below ballooned. It was late in the afternoon, but taverns like these knew no true hours.


    ¡°They enact city-wide policies that benefit everyone,¡± he said, meeting her eyes again. He was earnest¡ªshe¡¯d give him that much. She tilted her head, studying him.


    ¡°And when, Rowan, was the last time you¡ªas a Downhill citizen¡ªbenefited from those policies?¡± Kess snatched another sandwich as she waited for him to respond, but the look on his face told her everything she needed to know about his answer. ¡°See?¡± she said. ¡°They exist to further their own means.¡±


    ¡°Not all of them are like that,¡± he said quietly, something distant in his gaze. ¡°Some are different.¡± Kess froze mid bite. She almost felt sorry for this man. How could someone who grew up in this city be so oblivious to how it runs? But, studying him, Kess wasn¡¯t sure it was entirely that. The man seemed uncomfortable, like he wanted to believe something other than the reality in front of him. Well, that makes two of us, she thought.


    ¡°Rowan,¡± she said. ¡°Men attracted to power are already those the least fit to use it properly. People aren¡¯t inherently good. For example,¡± she said, waving with her sandwich. ¡°You¡¯re probably trying to milk me for information so you can take it back to Arlette.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡°


    ¡°Can you really, honestly say that you¡¯ll mention none of this to Arlette?¡± Kess asked, holding his gaze. Rowan stared back at her stubbornly, but that discomfort had taken hold of his expression again. ¡°Would she really go so far as to ignore any information she can glean on a woman who could blow her house to next week, ruin her cover Downhill, and whose very presence¡ªif discovered at that house¡ªwould mean she¡¯s windblown?¡± Kess shook her head. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if she knows more about me than I do. And frankly, if she didn¡¯t learn as much as she could, she¡¯d be a fool.¡± She held Rowan¡¯s gaze. ¡°She doesn¡¯t seem like a fool to me.¡±


    Rowan sighed, and reached for a sandwich finally, though his eyes occasionally darted to the tavern below. He might have lived years of his life Downhill, but he still doesn¡¯t seem comfortable here, Kess thought.


    ¡°You sure seem to think a lot and talk a lot for someone who made a career out of diving fights,¡± he said. ¡°Which, I might add, is illegal.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And was interfering with Witchblade business earlier legal?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t interfering. It was a drunk man looking for a pair of drinking buddies.¡±


    ¡°Drinking buddies wearing Witchblade uniforms,¡± Kess said flatly. Rowan finished a sandwich and held her gaze with no humor in his eyes.


    ¡°It was a very drunk man,¡± he added. Kess rolled her eyes.


    ¡°See, not even you can paint everything black and white,¡± she said. Rowan folded his arms.


    ¡°That¡¯s rich, coming from you.¡±


    Kess just watched the tavern below as a group of men shouted over a card game. ¡°Self hatred isn¡¯t a new thing,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Maybe if you spent more time around people less fortunate than you, you¡¯d recognize it.¡± She took another drink of her ale, now lukewarm. ¡°It¡¯s common enough.¡±


    ¡°Why would anyone choose to hate themselves?¡± Rowan asked, his eyes on the game below. Kess watched them as they swore and carried on. They seemed like happy enough men¡ªjovial, happy to be out with friends. Like Rowan, they were missing that haunted look Kess saw in her own eyes.


    ¡°Have you ever wanted something very badly, Rowan?¡± she said, her voice barely carrying over the conversations below. ¡°So badly that you¡¯d give up just about anything to get it?¡±


    ¡°Everyone wants something, Kess. Some people just want it more strongly than others.¡±


    She met his eyes. ¡°What if you can¡¯t have what that is?¡± she asked. ¡°What if the only thing standing between you and your dream is you? Tell me you wouldn¡¯t hate yourself, just a little.¡± Gone was the slight levity of their earlier conversation. Rowan¡¯s expression was contemplative, like this was some sort of puzzle to solve.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have to hate myself if I can work around it,¡± he said, picking at one of the sandwiches with a fork. ¡°If you solve the problems standing in the way of your dream, you don¡¯t have to hate yourself. Why would you hate the very person who solved the issue?¡±


    Kess hesitated for a moment, stunned at Rowan¡¯s positive outlook. It was exceptionally odd, given that Rowan was a Dud. How someone could be a Dud and avoid having even a little bit of self-pity was mind-boggling to Kess. Maybe he simply hid it well. Still, his perspective was flawed.


    ¡°Not everything is fixable,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Can a man without legs decide he wants to be a master messenger?¡±


    Rowan raised his eyebrows at her. ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°He gets a horse.¡±


    ¡°And who helps him on and off of that horse?¡± Rowan ran one hand through his slight curls in thought. Far from making her giddy, Kess found that his good looks mostly just pissed her off.


    ¡°He has an elaborate series of platforms set up throughout the city to help him mount,¡± he said, tapping his fork on the plate. Kess found herself suddenly frustrated.


    ¡°And how does he get those platforms out?¡± she demanded. ¡°Certainly his competition wouldn¡¯t help him.¡±


    ¡°He pays the shopkeepers,¡± Rowan continued. ¡°Far from feeling put out, the shopkeepers find that the spectacle of his mounting and dismounting is a testament to the determination of the human spirit. Business blossoms, and the shopkeepers are lauded as kind individuals worthy of spending coin on.¡±


    Kess finished her drink, suddenly not caring how much she¡¯d had. Her face felt a bit flushed, but she¡¯d been worse off before. She looked at Rowan incredulously. ¡°And who gets him to these mounting locations in the first place?¡±


    Rowan rubbed his temples, the twinkle in his eyes gone. ¡°Clouds, Kess. I¡¯m just saying that if a man¡ªany man¡ªwants to do the impossible, the first step is to refuse defeat. You might have accepted defeat, but I haven¡¯t. Not yet.¡±


    He finished his own drink, though Kess could see that it hadn¡¯t affected him as much as her. She opened her mouth to argue with him again, but stopped short as a larger crowd of men pushed their way into the tavern below.


    They were obviously soldiers of some sort¡ªnot Fulminancers, but militiamen, usually hired out for small jobs around the city. Kess squinted at them as a broad man worked his way to the middle of the tavern. It was then that Kess noticed the brand emblazoned into the side of the man¡¯s jacket¡ªan octagon divided into two with a line, the line touched by the corner of another square¡ªForgebrand¡¯s symbol.


    There was something odd about the symbol, though. Where the octagon was usually divided in two, a pin was embroidered, the silver ending in a tiny ruby on top. Kess didn¡¯t have long to study the change before the man turned, conversing with his fellows.


    ¡°Forgebrand,¡± Rowan said, his voice low. ¡°What¡¯re they doing here?¡± Kess just shook her head, still trying to divine the new symbol sewn into the patch. She¡¯d seen the symbol often enough around Draven and his men, and yet it had been different. There was something oddly familiar about the addition¡ªa fleeting reminder of something Kess couldn¡¯t quite define.


    Unlike Draven and his friends, the men below were hardly craftsmen, their sashes mostly a mix of orange and white. Rowan¡¯s red sash would have stuck out like a sore thumb in the tavern if it wasn¡¯t hidden beneath his cloak. ¡°Here for a simple night out with the boys, or something more?¡± Rowan murmured.


    His hand drifted to his sword. How he¡¯d smuggled that down and out of the Pits without getting killed, Kess had no idea. She couldn¡¯t blame his tension; Forgebrand was benign enough on its own, but the collection of burly men down there would put anyone on edge. Kess cursed herself for her alcohol consumption and looked for a nearby exit, just in case. The leader of the men below began to speak, his voice booming throughout the tavern.


    ¡°Forgebrand is an organization of change,¡± he said, and several men roared in approval, raising their drinks. ¡°But our betters Uphill still think to solve our problems for us. These problems, it seems, always stem from the Fulminant, Mariel take them.¡± Several men muttered darkly. Kess twisted her mouth at the irony. Why worship Mariel¡ªone of the original Fulminant Seats¡ªbut condemn her descendants?


    ¡°Mariel gave us the Fulminant to have a fighting chance against the Uphill, but her children have abandoned us. They climb the rings, they rank into new sashes, and they leave us to rot and die Downhill.¡± He shook his head darkly. ¡°True representation for the lot of us was dead as soon as today¡¯s Mariel abdicated her duties Downhill. If we want change¡ªreal and lasting change¡ªI say we give the Uphill what they want. They want the Fulminant?¡± he asked, lifting a tankard from the bar. ¡°They can have the Fulminant. A new Mariel returns, and with her, our freedom.¡± He lifted the tankard in the air to the roars of the crowd. ¡°In the meantime, we welcome her return with a hunt¡ªthat of a Marked Bloodcrawler who fled Redhill not a month ago now.¡± Kess¡¯s blood ran cold, and she moved to stand, Rowan not far behind. ¡°The bounty is rich, lads¡ªfour gold minings. With the lass in hand, we won¡¯t need Mariel to negotiate for us any longer. Let the hunt begin!¡±


    The tavern roared, and over the noise, Kess saw the tavern owner discreetly point to the shadows of the loft where they stood.


    ¡°Got to go,¡± she hissed to Rowan, throwing a few coins on the table.


    ¡°No kidding,¡± he said, trailing after her as she made her way to a side door she¡¯d noticed on their level. A roar and footsteps followed as Kess burst out onto a balcony, with Rowan not far behind. She nearly pitched off the balcony if Rowan hadn¡¯t snatched her cloak.


    The ground yawned before her, but Kess preferred that to dealing with Forgebrand¡¯s militia¡ªshe leapt without another word to Rowan, clearing the balcony. The ground slammed into the balls of her feet with a jarring impact that she felt all the way into her still injured thigh, but Kess used her momentum to roll and avoided the worst of the blow. Still, it wasn¡¯t pleasant. Wincing, she checked for Rowan. He ran towards her, picking branches from his clothes and looking like he wished he could turn her in and be done with it. She grabbed at his cloak as the men appeared on the balcony, and they ran.


    ¡°Does this happen to you often?¡± Rowan asked as they cut into the market crowd. Heads turned to stare, then darted out of the way as the Forgebrand men charged behind them.


    ¡°Often enough lately,¡± Kess huffed, glancing behind them. Fortunately, she and Rowan were faster than the large group of men, and already they were having problems keeping up. Kess cut down another alleyway, then stopped short as several men blocked the exit.


    Rowan grabbed her arm then, turning another direction and leading her into a tangle of wooden structures usually used as shelter during Floodstorm seasons. Feet hammering on the docks, they ran past throngs of people, then burst into a major intersection.


    Here, the crowds were even worse, packed with people spending what coin they could while the weather was nice. They slowed, Kess limping slightly. Rowan watched her for a moment, his face expressionless, though he was slightly winded as well.


    ¡°Are you going to make it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been injured before,¡± she snapped. ¡°Just focus on getting us out of this.¡±


    ¡°Why should I get us out of this? You¡¯re the one they¡¯re chasing.¡±


    ¡°Leave me if you want,¡± Kess said, ¡°but you took point. If you have any ideas, now would be a great time to show them.¡± Kess was familiar with this major market, but she wasn¡¯t sure they¡¯d be able to avoid being tailed home, especially when so much money was involved. Rowan watched her limp along for a few more moments before he finally sighed and tugged her into a crack between buildings so tiny that they had to go down it single file. At the end was a grate¡ªand not a clean one. Kess groaned as Rowan kicked the grate aside, eying the entrance to the alleyway.


    ¡°That¡¯s rather dramatic for someone as well-versed in the Downhill as you,¡± he said, smiling humorlessly.


    ¡°Just because I pay more attention than you doesn¡¯t mean I find the sewers pleasant,¡± she said, but moved to climb into the hole. It was disgusting, really, but it would certainly guarantee they weren¡¯t being followed. At least the manor had plumbing.


    Each rung was slick with substances Kess pointedly chose not to identify as she climbed down, and her boots slipped in the muck as she touched the ground in the darkness. Overhead, the grate clunked into place, and Rowan¡¯s boots hit the rungs with a clang as he descended. He winced at his hands as he touched the ground.


    ¡°Not all of them are this bad,¡± he said apologetically.


    ¡°Well, it seems a fitting way to end the day,¡± Kess groused as she followed him through the dark tunnel. At least they were safe, though a bounty so large would present problems for Kess Downhill. She would never fight again. A sick feeling panged in her gut that had nothing to do with the smell as she followed Rowan through subterranean passageways sloping through the mountain. If she couldn¡¯t fight, then¡ª


    As if in reply, a single tendril of Fulminancy crawled down her arm, lit up the dark tunnel briefly, and died with a snuff.


    If she couldn¡¯t fight, then she was as good as a burning fuse.

 Chapter 31: The Coming Storm

    Kess sat on a box in the manor warehouse and continued to glare at Rowan as she leaned back against the stack, arms crossed. They¡¯d returned a few hours ago, covered in filth, and Arlette had read them both the riot act¡ªbut particularly Kess. She was foolish, she was rash, she was impulsive, the odds of surviving in the Pits were¡ªwell, regardless, Kess wasn¡¯t Arlette¡¯s prisoner. She wouldn¡¯t give the woman the satisfaction of an apology.


    Rowan stood in front of her¡ªshirtless, the cloudspawned man¡ªholding her gaze like he was waiting for something.


    Kess scowled at him.


    Rowan stared back.


    After several moments of this, Rowan sighed finally, throwing a towel over his shoulders.


    ¡°This is such a waste of time,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll say.¡±


    ¡°You could just do as I ask instead of being difficult,¡± he said. Something about his tone dug into Kess like a barb.


    ¡°I¡¯m not touching right now,¡± she said, voice tight. ¡°In case you¡¯ve forgotten, I just crawled out of a sewer after drinking half my weight in sub-par ale and being chased through several tiers of Downhill by Forgebrand¡¯s finest.¡±


    ¡°And whose fault is that?¡±


    Rowan moved to stand, and Kess looked away¡ªshe didn¡¯t need his figure distracting her from her stubbornness. Still, heat crept into her cheeks. If he was trying to make her uncomfortable, it was working. Rowan toweled his sweaty face.


    ¡°If you¡¯re so eager to leave the manor and fight,¡± he continued, ¡°we might as well let you fight your Fulminancy.¡± He and Eamon had spent the better half of the evening sparring, as they always did. It was an odd sort of dance to watch¡ªnothing like ring fights. Kess longed to join them, swords or not, but she was relegated to this box like a toddler, presumably to practice her Fulminancy. It was going about as well as a wedding during a Floodstorm.


    ¡°Do you think people haven¡¯t tried this with me?¡± Kess asked, leaning her head back against the box. ¡°Do you think the Uphill minders didn¡¯t exhaust every resource they had trying to do the same thing? Schools, teachers, private lessons, cajoling, begging, threatening¡ªthey¡¯ve done it all, Rowan. I don¡¯t see how you¡¯ll fare any better.¡± She clenched her jaw, fighting against the memories. She¡¯d been no better than an animal to them, and the way it had ended¡ªshe scrunched her eyes shut against the memory, then turned to watch Rowan instead. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s as simple as a switch?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why it shouldn¡¯t be,¡± he said simply. ¡°You worked on it the other night. Work on it now.¡± Rowan¡¯s outlook obviously wasn¡¯t the only simple thing about him. Kess laughed humorlessly.


    ¡°Of course, why not?¡± she said, voice rising. ¡°You found me during one of the most tumultuous periods of time in the last several years of my life, see me tap into my powers with disastrous consequences¡ª¡°


    ¡°You were fine the other night,¡± Rowan interrupted. ¡°You just need to learn to use less of that power at once¡ªwhich is what I¡¯m trying to teach you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s still not something I can just turn on and off at will.¡±


    The other night had given her a tiny spark of hope, but it hadn¡¯t taken away her fear. If anything, she now spent her days wondering if that success had been a fluke. She didn¡¯t want to find out the hard way that it had been.


    Kess moved from the box, blood pounding in her ears and throbbing in her injured leg. Her Fulminancy thrashed inside like a wild animal, caged and vicious. She¡¯d always kept it at bay through a combination of willpower and exhausting fights. Without the latter, it gnashed at her, unchained and yawning, a pit which she didn¡¯t dare touch, for fear that it would consume her. A single tendril wormed its way down her arm as she paced the room, and Kess shook her arm, trying to will it away.


    She felt Rowan¡¯s eyes on her, met his, and saw a strange expression there. Fear she was used to identifying. It was mild, though, and on top of it, almost a longing¡ªan eagerness. This man is stormsick, she reminded herself, and continued her pacing.


    ¡°Just focus on that tendril,¡± Rowan said, watching her. ¡°It¡¯s tame enough.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t control it,¡± she snapped, stopping at the barrel of practice swords towards the side of the warehouse. ¡°It just comes out when I¡¯m¡­agitated,¡± she finished, unsure. It didn¡¯t actually seem to have any bearing on her mood, though it certainly coincided with times in her life when she felt a sense of unease.


    ¡°It seems to me,¡± Rowan said, approaching the barrel, ¡°that if it¡¯s right there on the surface, you should be able to use it.¡±


    Kess snatched a well-worn wooden sword from the barrel and hefted it. It was unfamiliar in her hands, its length awkward and unbalanced.


    ¡°It seems to me,¡± she said, ¡°That a Dud probably doesn¡¯t know very much about channeling Fulminancy.¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Rowan pressed his lips together, but otherwise kept his face straight. He took a sword from the barrel and twirled it in expert hands, nodding towards her in a ready stance.


    ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± he asked, shrugging. ¡°If you¡¯re not going to train with your Fulminancy, you might as well learn something.¡±


    Kess sensed the trap, but couldn¡¯t turn down the idea of a challenge¡ªeven one that would likely end with a lot of bruises and her on the floor. She held her sword in front of her in something approximating Rowan¡¯s stance, and nodded.


    Rowan charged.


    His speed was something Kess would have envied had she been in the ring with him. Combined with his fluid use of the sword, Kess was hard pressed to stop him. She clumsily knocked away a few of his blows¡ªtempered, she knew, to keep her from being too badly injured. Somehow, the knowledge that he was holding back bothered her more, and she gritted her teeth, using her next block to swipe at Rowan¡¯s side. He laughed¡ªactually laughed, damn him¡ªand danced away.


    Kess¡¯s footwork wasn¡¯t bad, but it wasn¡¯t meant for the sword, and the weapon itself was awkward in her hands. Rowan wielded the sword like it was one of his own limbs as he danced around Kess, barely breaking a sweat. Kess¡¯s clumsy blocks did little to actually block Rowan, and each miss left her with a tiny smart or bruise that would remind her in the days to come of her foolishness.


    Sweating, frustrated, and exhausted, Kess tried another tactic. She¡¯d already lost¡ªin a real sword fight, she¡¯d be long dead¡ªbut her pride as a fighter demanded that she find a fitting way to end the fight.


    Rowan was fast and talented, so she would just have to be unexpected. His strikes, she¡¯d noticed, were uniform and perfect¡ªdesigned to meet certain strikes that anyone using a sword would naturally go to. Kess blinked sweat from her eyes and tried something extremely foolish.


    She swung at Rowan¡¯s head, expecting his block and follow up strike. He blocked with a grunt, and Kess launched herself into a roll to Rowan¡¯s left. Rowan¡¯s sword whooshed through the air where she¡¯d been, and Kess thwacked her own wooden sword into Rowan¡¯s bare chest with a satisfying thud.


    They stood there for a moment, Kess¡¯s legs shaking beneath her, her own breathing heavy in her ears, Rowan¡¯s much calmer. Finally, he burst out laughing.


    ¡°I¡¯d be impressed if I hadn¡¯t removed most of your limbs before that.¡±


    ¡°Well, your mistake was not actually removing them,¡± Kess said, smiling sweetly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t expect that to work in an actual fight,¡± Rowan said, running a hand through his curls. ¡°Though I suppose that when faced with someone much more experienced, doing something wild like that is probably your best bet.¡±


    ¡°Rings have rules too, Rowan,¡± Kess said, trying to keep her eyes on the sword in her hands instead of on Rowan and his somehow perfectly messy hair. ¡°But rules are meant to be broken when your life is on the line.¡± Kess held the sword distastefully. ¡°Why would you want to learn this thing?¡± she asked. ¡°Seems like an unnecessary extra step to me.¡±


    Rowan rolled his eyes and returned his sword to the barrel, holding out a hand for Kess¡¯s. She tossed him the sword, fighting the heat that crept into her cheeks. Fanas was cruel for making someone like Rowan just as handsome as he was irritating.


    ¡°An extra step means an extra length of steel between me and a man trying to kill me. It¡¯s worth the extra training,¡± he said, stowing the swords. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s an art to it¡ªdone correctly, it¡¯s like a dance. There are correct responses to different sets of moves. It¡¯s part art, part science.¡± He shook his head as he found his towel again. ¡°It¡¯s not the bloodbath that fist fighting is.¡± Kess frowned at that.


    ¡°Fist fighting is the same way,¡± she argued. ¡°Do you really think we just go in there and slug it out until someone drops?¡± Rowan raised his eyebrows.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°It seems impersonal to me,¡± Kess said, ignoring the comment. ¡°Fighting in a ring is¡­immediate, I suppose. Your pain and theirs, the good snap of a kick or punch, and that instant feedback. Your techniques against theirs, only there¡¯s no metal to keep you apart.¡±


    Rowan snorted. ¡°That sounds almost as unpleasant as my trip to the Pits. You almost sound like you enjoy your fights.¡±


    ¡°Enjoyment isn¡¯t quite the same as feeling comfortable, lad.¡± Kess jumped at the voice. She¡¯d been so focused on Rowan she¡¯d forgotten that Eamon lurked nearby, sitting amiably on a box in the corner. The man was affable to a fault, an odd contrast to Rowan¡¯s seriousness. He smiled at Kess, and she felt some of her frustration melt away. It was hard to be mad around Eamon. ¡°She¡¯s comfortable there the same way you¡¯re comfortable around your books, research, and swords,¡± he continued, dark eyes on her.


    Rowan had returned to picking up the warehouse. ¡°Why would anyone feel comfortable being cuffed half to death?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t like fighting your battles personally?¡± Kess asked, watching him distastefully. Rowan paused, expression confused as he straightened from picking up a stray towel.


    ¡°How is fighting with a sword not personal?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t feel them crumple as the light goes out of their eyes.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rowan admitted, his eyes gone cold. ¡°But you do feel the life leaving their bodies as they die.¡±


    ¡°The two of you need something to eat,¡± Eamon said, standing with a few cracks and a wince. ¡°This dark warehouse isn¡¯t lifting anyone¡¯s spirits¡ªnot with you two filling it with nonsense.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than the sewers,¡± Kess muttered, and Eamon laughed. Still, he shooed them both towards the door, and Kess was grateful to go. She shared a glance with Rowan near the exit, who, far from looking annoyed, simply seemed contemplative.


    Has he really killed someone before? She wondered. Ever since that night, she¡¯d refused to hurt anyone in such an impersonal sort of way¡ªit was one of the many reasons she¡¯d gotten involved in fighting rings in the first place. If she ever had to defend herself again, she¡¯d be sure to do it without Fulminant powers to shield herself from the sensation.


    She¡¯d failed miserably in that.


    Kess¡¯s scattered thoughts almost made her ignore the commotion at the front entrance to the manor. It was distant, the noise faint as it bounced towards the distant warehouse, but Kess paused, Rowan at her side¡ªthankfully, with a shirt pulled on again.


    Voices erupted from the entry hall, though Kess couldn¡¯t see it from her vantage point. One of them was young, high, and clearly upset.


    ¡°What do you suppose that¡¯s about?¡± Rowan murmured.


    Kess said nothing and decided to find out.


    Her entrance into the main hall sent the commotion into overdrive. Several guards held a young boy back¡ªa boy Kess was shocked to recognize.

 Chapter 32: A Coward Struck Brave With Foolishness

    ¡°Liam,¡± she said, stunned. His head snapped up, dark blond curls bobbing, eyes red, and all composure lost. Gone was the aloof boy, trying to act older than he really was. In his place was an odd mixture of a boy Kess remembered to be several inches shorter, combined with the sniffling panic of a young child. The guards finally let him go as they realized he knew her, and he straightened his shirt, still looking put out.


    ¡°Kess, they wouldn¡¯t let me talk to you,¡± he said, voice cracking. ¡°They say no one lives here by that name, but they¡¯re terrible liars¡ªI already knew you were here because Draven told me and¡ª¡°


    ¡°Liam, slow down,¡± Kess said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Behind her, Eamon and Rowan looked on, curious. Kess led the boy away from the pack of guards, who returned to their post by the door. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? What happened?¡±


    Liam seemed momentarily at a loss for words, his mouth forming shapes, but no sound escaping. Finally, he swallowed and croaked out a few choice words. ¡°Draven, he¡­¡± His face crumpled, and he made a sort of squeaking sound, tears falling from his eyes. ¡°They¡¯ve got him, Kess,¡± he finally whispered.


    Her heart paused.


    Kess gave Liam a little shake, now frantic herself. ¡°Who has him, Liam? The Witchblades?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°Not anymore. They¡­they came for him. We didn¡¯t know what to do¡ªme and the boys went to tell everyone, and they sent us away and then came out of the tavern with spears, but¡­someone from the clouding Council showed up, Kess.¡±


    ¡°Are you¡­are you sure?¡± Her voice was hoarse, choking on the words. Liam nodded.


    ¡°Blue and silver sash. Face all garbled with Fulminancy¡ªyou can¡¯t see who it is, but¡ªplease, Kess, you have to help him. They all ran away. Everyone else. They said he was as good as dead¡ªthat the Council was a death sentence and they needed to save the warehouses. Kess, please.¡±


    He began to chant the words in a quiet whisper as Kess stood there, stunned. Her hand fell from Liam¡¯s shoulders as she fought with the torrent of emotions that assaulted her. Her fingers had gone numb at just the tips as a sense of dread bit into her.


    ¡°Liam, I¡ªwhat do you want me to do about it?¡±


    Liam¡¯s chanting stopped, and the disappointment in his face made Kess want to take the words back. ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know, Kess, I thought¡­thought you¡¯d have a plan.¡± He met her eyes again, some of that hope restored. ¡°You always have a plan. You can help him, right? Just like you helped me? I¡­I don¡¯t know who else to turn to.¡±


    Kess paused, her heart thumping erratically in her ears, a pounding drum. Perhaps Liam didn¡¯t know about her powers, but his gut had been right¡ªhe¡¯d come to one of the few people Downhill who might have a shot at helping Draven.


    Kess made a decision without allowing herself time to think about it, afraid that if she did, she¡¯d do the more sensible thing and stay sequestered away within the manor. She grabbed Liam by the wrist and dragged him past Rowan and Eamon towards her rooms.


    ¡°Where?¡± she asked Liam as they hurried through the manor, Rowan and Eamon¡¯s footsteps echoing in the hallway behind her.


    ¡°Dawnring¡¯s Stone Market last I heard,¡± Liam replied. ¡°I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re going to do with him, but¡­what in Mariel¡¯s name are you going to do, Kess?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Kess said, opening her door. She tugged on her boots, clipped on a dagger she barely knew how to use, and fastened her cloak with Oliver¡¯s Stormclap pin, tied firmly to the fabric. She stared at it a little too long as she did the clasp, thinking of Oliver. I wasn¡¯t strong enough to do anything about him, Kess thought, staring at the intricately carved golden pin. The ruby flashed in the light. I was too cowardly to use my powers, but this time will be different.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Perhaps she¡¯d simply blow the Stone Market to pieces, but if the Council had taken Draven, then they deserved what was coming. As an afterthought, Kess tucked a ream of fabric around her neck. If she managed to get away with her life, she wouldn¡¯t have people connecting her to anything at the manor, or worse, the galas she¡¯d soon attend with Rowan.


    ¡°Liam,¡± she said, adjusting the scarf. She ignored a pointed gaze from Rowan, who lingered by the doorway. ¡°Is there anything else I should know?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± he said solemnly, ¡°half the Downhill is on fire.¡±


    ¡°Early Lightstorm?¡±


    ¡°Some of it,¡± he agreed. ¡°The rest, we think the Witchblades started.¡±


    Why now? She wondered. While annoying, Witchblade patrols mostly left the Downhill to their own business, provided no one violated ring or sash laws in the city.


    ¡°Was it some kind of disagreement?¡± she asked.


    Liam hesitated, his face pale. He looked out the window instead of at her eyes. ¡°Forgebrand, maybe,¡± he muttered. ¡°They were recruiting Fulminancers Downhill this last week, trying to get them to charge their Fulminant tools and the like. I¡­don¡¯t think the Witchblades appreciated it. Draven had them stored in a warehouse, and it¡¯s burning down along with the entire neighborhood.¡±


    Kess paled, remembering her conversation with Draven. He¡¯d wanted Mariel to charge his tools, but barring that, he¡¯d sought other readily available Fulminancers¡ªavoiding Kess for obvious reasons. All I can hope now is that the warehouse is nowhere near his tavern, Kess thought. She tried to chase the image of the tavern burning down from her mind.


    ¡°Thank you, Liam,¡± she said, patting the boy on the shoulder again, though he nearly towered over her now. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±


    That seemed to brighten him up, though his face was still drawn and pale. He smiled tentatively at her, and for better or for worse, Kess suddenly felt the weight of her decision, heavy and unyielding across her shoulders.


    ¡°You¡¯re not really doing what I think you are,¡± Rowan said quietly from the doorway. His voice was quiet and dangerous. She met his eyes and found them wary and unsettled. After a moment of silence, he caught Eamon¡¯s attention with a jerk of his head at Liam. ¡°See that our friend here is taken care of¡ªif he needs a place to stay, let him. He can work in the kitchens if he wishes to stay permanently.¡±


    Eamon nodded grimly and ushered Liam off, leaving Kess alone with Rowan. She tried to avoid the conversation entirely by walking past him, but he caught her shoulder at the door, his grip strong.


    ¡°Kess,¡± he said, grip tightening. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious¡ªa Council member? Even if you had control over your powers, you¡¯d be foolish to get involved with one of them. If they¡¯re here, then your friend Draven can¡¯t have been involved in anything legal.¡±


    Kess shrugged the hand from her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m not interested in debating the legality of any of this with you, Rowan. I was too late to save my brother¡ªI won¡¯t be too late for Draven, too.¡±


    She recognized that what she was doing could have grave consequences, but neither could she abide the idea of simply staying in the manor, hoping to hear good news. If everyone else had abandoned Draven, then she was all he had left¡ªhis only family.


    ¡°So you¡¯re going to rescue him,¡± Rowan said. His voice was tinged with a bit of sarcasm. ¡°With what, Kess? You just got through arguing with me about using your powers at all, and now you intend to march into Dawnring and try your luck with someone who¡¯s been studying those same powers since they were a child? At best, you¡¯ll end up dead. At worst, you¡¯ll take half the neighborhood with you.¡±


    Kess shook her head. ¡°No,¡± she said slowly, remembering that familiar location, usually packed with people. ¡°The square outside of Stone Market is perfect right now,¡± she realized. ¡°It¡¯s broad, open, and during a Lightstorm, it should be completely empty.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re going to ask the nice Council member to hold still while you dredge up powers you usually refuse to touch,¡± Rowan said flatly.


    Kess scowled at him and tried to brush past him again as she spoke. ¡°If I¡¯m not trying for control, then they shouldn¡¯t have to wait for anything¡ªor stand still.¡± He caught her shoulder again, though the touch was gentler. The message was clear¡ªRowan wasn¡¯t going to stop her, though he was trying to convince her of how foolish her plan was. He never needed to do that, Kess thought. I¡¯ll be lucky to make it out of this alive. But she wouldn¡¯t sit here while Draven suffered and died. She met Rowan¡¯s eyes, and watched shock replace the disbelief there.


    ¡°You¡¯re really going,¡± he breathed. ¡°Kess, this is insane.¡±


    ¡°Men were cowards long before they were brave,¡± Kess whispered. Behind her, a nasty crack of lightning shook the building and caused her hair to stand up on end. ¡°But sometimes foolishness strikes a coward just long enough to make him a brave man.¡±


    She pushed past Rowan finally and left the manor behind.

 Chapter 33: Lilac and Smoke

    The air didn¡¯t just smell of ash¡ªit smelled of death. Kess pulled her scarf closer to her face as she approached one of the looming staircases to Dawnring and swore at the number of fires brewing Downhill. Lightstorm season always brought them in number, but they were usually the controlled blaze of the same buildings that always had issues during the season¡ªmultistory wooden buildings without money for protection or other materials¡ªnot the soot-blackened acrid smoke of those that rarely caught.


    They¡¯re not burning in one place, she realized. Whatever the Witchblades had gone after, they hadn¡¯t found it in that first warehouse. The fires were numerous and spread out, and Kess was momentarily stunned by their number.


    An angry orange glow diffused into the clouds, soft and solemn, an odd contrast with the occasional crackling blue of the Lightstorm. Kess felt each of those strikes with a buzz of energy that ran from her spine into the tips of her toes, calling to that energy she kept tucked away.


    Kess snapped her fist shut against the Fulminancy that gathered there, and watched the stairs for a moment. If she wanted to help Draven, she needed to hurry, but how fast could she get there without some sort of help?


    Kess knew one way to clear the stairs quickly. A way to get over them in one fell swoop, without injury or time wasted. She just wasn¡¯t sure she was ready to take that step. Still, she thought. If it gets me to Draven faster. And she did need to have that energy at the ready if she intended to defend the man.


    Kess took a deep, shaking breath and settled herself, gathering that snarling, unfamiliar energy coiled deep within her gut. Above her, the Lightstorm cracked exultantly, its clouds almost seeming to swirl towards her. Kess let her Fulminancy fill her up, spreading to every limb with the crackle and buzz of unused energy. The hair on her arms stood up, and lightning flashed nearby. Kess didn¡¯t flinch¡ªnot with the well of nauseating power coursing through her limbs that dwarfed even the lightning strike.


    Not quite knowing what she was doing, she directed that energy towards her feet, the action instinctive. Her toes tingled in response, and Kess simply flung herself off the staircase.


    She flew squealing through the air, her cloak whipping about her, nearly losing her scarf in the process. Her arms flailed as the jump took her over the first, second, and third flight of stairs. She angled her feet towards the looming ground and simply prayed her legs would survive the impact. In response, a burst of Fulminancy flared into her feet again.


    She landed, hard, and the gathered power flung her another ten feet away and down another staircase before she came to a rest. Groaning and wondering if she¡¯d saved any time at all, Kess got to her feet and looked above her.


    Well, that¡¯s one way to travel, she thought. The stairs were at her back, and though more followed, she had saved some time, and not blown herself up in the process. It was something, at least. Chest heaving, Kess turned towards the next staircase, her Fulminancy crackling soothingly around one of her arms.


    She steeled herself and did it again, making her way towards Stone Market as quickly as her Fulminancy allowed. Perhaps, she mused as she flew through the air again, stomach lurching, it¡¯s decided to help me just this once. Maybe it could be an ally, if only she could master it.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    She would have to master her fear first.


    Her Fulminancy didn¡¯t entirely protect her from the strain of multistory falls. It was wild and unpredictable, and by the time Kess reached Dawnring, her leg ached fiercely. Dimly, she realized that it should have been long healed by now, but after tonight she might not have to worry about it anymore.


    Dawnring was eerily quiet as Kess made her way through the familiar streets. Gone were the squads of children, the stalls hawking their wares, and the throngs of people crowded under shelters or packed into stone markets for Lightstorm season. Tendrils of lightning licked the sides of taller buildings, some few reaching towards Kess. She didn¡¯t flinch. Many Downhill were terrified of Lightstorms, but Kess had always feared the storm swirling inside of her more.


    Witchblades, oddly, were nowhere to be found; their stations were empty, their help nowhere to be found. Neighbors tended desperately to the fires in nearby buildings. There was no sign of the men who¡¯d caused the fires in the first place.


    Years of habit carried her closer to Draven¡¯s tavern, even as her lungs seared with black smoke. Fortunately, she lost no time going that way; Draven¡¯s tavern was a few blocks away from Dawnring¡¯s Stone Market.


    She knew before she arrived that it would be gone. Still, that didn¡¯t take the shock away as she rounded a corner and found the burned out husk of the building, the only remaining pieces the stone foundation and walls.


    The bar she had sat at for years was gone, its footprint a mere memory in the ash. The tables she had laughed at and played cards at, gone. As she rounded the building, Draven¡¯s back rooms where she had slept off nasty fights or hidden from enemies until tempers cooled¡ªgone. While the fire was out, the heat was still fresh, and a few bits of wood smoldered in the corner.


    Too late, she thought. I was too late. Here was her life Downhill served up on a plate of ash and death. It was all gone. Kess fought against the burning in her eyes that had nothing to do with the acrid smoke. She clenched her fists as she picked through the destroyed building, steeling herself for the remains of men and women she had laughed with, fought with, and hidden with.


    Mercifully, it seemed like the occupants had gotten out in time, but Kess was now even less sure of Draven¡¯s fate. She turned her back on the tavern and sprinted towards the Stone Market as fast as she could go.


    People were more numerous as she approached the center of Dawnring. A few gave her furtive glances before darting into alleyways or small homes. A sign scribbled to her left had some choice words to say about Mariel and how the Seat had abandoned the Downhill. Another sign further up the block deigned to throw out any semblance of class at all with its request. Kess ignored the signs and pressed on as the streets opened up into a square. To her right was the Stone Market¡ªbrilliantly lit, even in the dark weather.


    The square, however, was cast in shadow. Light spilled out from the Stone Market, a tentative glow that only reached so far. Kess slowed, squinting, as she realized that there were shapes in the darkness.


    Fulminancy cracked to life in the center of the square, a snarling twist of bolts that hid the face of an unfamiliar man standing over a bloodied Draven, Fulminant knife to his throat. A blue and silver sash proudly adorned his waist, and something golden glinted there, holding it tight. He regarded her lazily, his posture relaxed, even as Draven¡¯s eyes widened at Kess¡¯s appearance.


    Kess brought her powers to her hands, all semblance of calm gone. Her fingers trembled, and her breath lurched through her lungs as she fought the memory of that night so long ago.


    I can¡¯t be like that, she reminded herself. Not until Draven¡¯s out of the way. She would have to play this carefully, though how could she expect herself to beat someone on the Council?


    The man brought more Fulminancy into his hands, and Kess let her own flare, a more defensive action than anything. He hurled a bolt at her.


    Kess¡¯s own Fulminancy stuttered, cracked, and snuffed out, a whisper on the wind.


    The bolt hit.

 Chapter 34: His Own Way of Fighting

    ¡°It¡¯s guilt you¡¯re feeling, Rowan.¡± Rowan glanced at Claire, who¡¯d rocked her chair all the way back into one of the nearby bookshelves and was staring at the ceiling. Rowan straightened from his makeshift workbench in the library. He¡¯d come here immediately after Kess¡¯s departure, hoping to take his mind off the situation.


    It hadn¡¯t worked.


    ¡°Guilt,¡± he repeated. ¡°Why would I feel guilty?¡±


    Claire rolled her eyes and sighed. ¡°Rowan, do I really have to explain this to you?¡± She rocked her chair forward to let the front legs touch the ground, and leaned forward, holding his eyes. ¡°That girl hasn¡¯t touched her powers in years before¡­what, last night? She¡¯s marching into Dawnring to save her friend, who somehow got involved with a Council member of all people, Rowan.¡±


    ¡°It sounds even more foolish when you say it aloud.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not arguing if it¡¯s foolish or not¡ªI¡¯m arguing that your conscience is bothering you. Do you mean to tell me you¡¯re going to sit here tinkering with this nonsense while she goes out there alone?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I intend to do.¡± Rowan turned back to his board, and to filling his lights with a puff of gas. Calm, steady work that¡ª


    ¡°So you¡¯re going to let her die, then?¡±


    Rowan froze. His concentration evaporated along with the gas that puffed out the side. He felt Claire¡¯s gaze on his back and turned again, setting down his tools to lean against the table. There, in her eyes, Rowan saw something he hadn¡¯t seen there in years¡ªfury.


    ¡°Rowan, without help, she¡¯s windblown.¡±


    Something in Rowan snapped. ¡°Claire, you hate her. She¡¯s been here all of a month and you¡¯ve complained about her every day.¡±


    ¡°Because she¡¯s a terrible patient,¡± Claire replied. ¡°I swear that leg is infected, Rowan¡ªhealer¡¯s intuition. But getting near her to deal with it is like trying to capture a Lightstorm in a bottle.¡±


    Rowan raised his eyebrows. ¡°Have you ever tried?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± she snapped. ¡°Rowan, if you spent half as much time thinking about people instead of your projects and hypothetical questions, you¡¯d have gotten a lot further in life.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re so certain about the trajectory of my life, then what would you have me do?¡± Rowan asked, his voice rising.


    ¡°Go after her.¡±


    ¡°With what?¡± he demanded. ¡°What do you want me to do about it, Claire? Fight the Council myself? I¡¯m not Fulminant, as the world is so clearly keen to remind me. What good does a sword do against one of you?¡±


    Claire held his eyes flatly as he stood there, heart pounding, his face flushed. She raised her eyebrows at him, like she was waiting for something.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°What?¡± he finally asked.


    Claire stood and drew near, opening her hand to let a delicate trail of green-tinged Fulminancy creep towards him. It was different than Kess¡¯s; gentle, inquisitive, and precise, it crossed the distance not in an explosive crack, but in a series of little snaps. It touched his arm, where a long gash from the second incident in his workshop was still fresh.


    Claire twisted her lips, hand still open.


    ¡°Four inch laceration,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Twelve millimeters deep at the worst, though the edges are less than two. Clean and precise¡ªmade by either glass or a sword. Multiple layers of the dermis line up nicely despite the depth, though at the worst area you¡¯re probably having trouble getting it to seal completely.¡±


    She closed her eyes as she spoke, obviously needing only the Fulminancy to convey the information. She was right about the cut needing stitches or a heal¡ªbut Rowan had been too embarrassed about the second incident to go to Claire about it. Only Kess knew what had happened.


    Claire opened her eyes, peering at him as her Fulminancy prowled around his arm. ¡°What was it, Rowan? Another accident? How many of those do you intend to have before you¡ª¡°


    ¡°Enough.¡± Rowan caught her arm, and her Fulminancy snuffed out entirely. Claire didn¡¯t flinch, her hazel eyes solemn as she stared at him.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t forgotten then,¡± she whispered. ¡°You have your own way of fighting.¡±


    Rowan let go of her arm. ¡°No one knows about it. I can¡¯t let anyone know about it.¡±


    ¡°So you are a coward then,¡± Claire murmured, a cruel lilt to her voice. ¡°I had wondered. Maybe I do complain about Kess, but you do the same. Chief among your complaints, interestingly, is that she¡¯s unable or unwilling to use what she¡¯s been given, and yet you¡ª¡°


    ¡°Have a very sensitive problem that could be the end of me Uphill if anyone finds out about it,¡± Rowan snapped. ¡°Why do you think my father was so quick to be rid of me? As hard as it is to deal with the Uphill now, how hard do you think it¡¯ll be when everyone knows that I have something wrong with me that snuffs out Fulminancy erratically in the area? They just think I¡¯m cursed. Clouds, half the time it doesn¡¯t work. I¡ª¡°


    ¡°So you¡¯d rather let an innocent woman die than risk your own neck?¡± Claire asked. ¡°Sounds familiar. Maybe if you¡¯d just stayed home years ago, we wouldn¡¯t have had to bury our friend.¡±


    Rowan froze, mouth half open, and looked at Claire again. Tears brimmed in her eyes. She turned away, and when she turned back, they were nearly gone. The fury and hurt in her gaze remained, however.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what happened, Claire. Emella¡ª¡°


    ¡°Stuck her own neck out for us both, Rowan,¡± Claire hissed. Her voice was broken and quiet. ¡°I didn¡¯t forget. I never will. She went down in that mine with you and your cloudspawned experiments because I was too foolish to just let you die down there. Without her, we¡¯d both be dead.¡±


    ¡°And what do you think might happen to me tonight if I go after her?¡± Rowan asked suddenly. ¡°It¡¯s the same scenario.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Claire said quietly, all the fight gone from her voice. She met his eyes again, her own overly bright. ¡°But Rowan, even if I¡¯d known how that night was going to turn out, I still would have gone after you. Emella would have too. No one deserves to die without a fighting chance, Rowan¡ªespecially when they¡¯re just trying to help someone.¡±


    Claire held his eyes for a few moments longer, as if trying to assess something in Rowan that he couldn¡¯t see himself. When her gaze grew too heavy to bear, he turned away, eying his experiments¡ªanything to avoid thinking about that night in the mountain. After several long seconds, Claire stalked from the room, but paused at the exit.


    ¡°Kess was never the coward, Rowan,¡± she said. ¡°You are.¡±


    The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Rowan alone again.

 Chapter 35: Not Afraid

    The first time Kess had ever been hit, she¡¯d felt a sense of disbelief¡ªa disconnectedness that was hard to shake. It was a moment of shock that had given even Kess pause, before she¡¯d slammed her fist into the other girl and knocked her out cold.


    This time, with Fulminancy, it happened all over again.


    Snap.


    Pain and shock. Disbelief. The air whooshing past her ears. Then, a tiny spark of something else¡ªher Fulminancy, stuttering to life, just before¡ª


    Crack.


    Kess¡¯s flight through the air stopped short as pain erupted across her back. She fought against blackness that had nothing to do with the night, and dug her hands into something soft. Dirt, she realized. It took her a minute to piece it all together. She¡¯d slammed into one of the trees in the square. As it was, her Fulminancy might have saved her life. Groaning, she got to her feet as the Councilman spoke, his voice echoing across the square.


    ¡°That¡¯s who I get out of all this?¡± he asked. His voice was odd and garbled. Kess blinked stars out of her vision and realized why. Fulminancy crept around the man¡¯s neck, as well as his face, disguising his voice somehow. ¡°A Downhill runt brand new to her powers?¡± he continued. He shook his head. ¡°Draven, I thought you were a well-connected man. Where are your guards? Your army of Fulminancers? I thought you had better than this, at least¡ªcertainly the supplies Forgebrand¡¯s been stealing would indicate you¡¯re hiding someone.¡±


    ¡°I have nothing to hide,¡± Draven said, trying to wipe at the side of his bleeding face with his shoulder. ¡°You won¡¯t find an army here.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the man said, sounding bored. He glanced at Kess as she stumbled towards Draven, determined to see her task through to the end. ¡°You might as well leave,¡± the man said, watching her limp. ¡°It¡¯s not really polite for me to spar with someone who can¡¯t even play a game of Stormclap without blowing the room sky high.¡± He shooed at her with his other hand. ¡°Leave us be.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving without him,¡± Kess said. The strength of her voice shocked her. The man regarded her for a few moments, and though Kess couldn¡¯t see facial features beneath his hood, his body language seemed to suggest genuine disappointment. It was easy to read him somehow, like he was familiar. But I don¡¯t know anyone on the Council, Kess thought, watching the man. The ones who minded me are dead now, and the rest¡­


    They could have been anyone. And yet, Kess couldn¡¯t quite shake the feeling that she¡¯d spoken to this man before.


    ¡°Well, I tried,¡± the man said, sounding resigned. ¡°We¡¯re going to have a very long chat¡ªone that ends, I¡¯m afraid, with you in an Uphill prison for wearing the wrong sash¡ªassuming your blossoming powers keep you alive that long, that is. Nasty business, that. Can¡¯t have people pretending to be someone they¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°Fulminancy isn¡¯t yours to police,¡± Draven said, spitting blood to the side. ¡°It¡¯s for the people. Mariel¡ª¡°


    ¡°Is dead,¡± the Councilman finished. ¡°And her ideals with her.¡± His voice snapped as he said it, but then he sighed and waved his hand a little dismissively. ¡°Or so everyone says. Personally, I find the whole thing hard to believe, considering the army of Fulminant soldiers being built right underneath our noses. Who else would lead those soldiers? You, Draven?¡±


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Draven closed his eyes, looking exhausted. ¡°There are no soldiers, lad. Just me and a few craftsmen. It¡¯s the honest¡ª¡°


    ¡°If you¡¯re so honest, Draven, then why did we find you acquainting half of Dawnring with weapons? Fulminant weapons.¡± As the man spoke, Kess inched forward, using the darkness to move closer to Draven. ¡°I¡¯m afraid your recruitment program is at an end, though perhaps your prot¨¦g¨¦ over there can tell us more about it when I¡¯m done with her.¡±


    Kess froze, and the man simply arced another bolt of Fulminancy at her. By inching closer to Draven, she¡¯d moved into his range. Still, this time, Kess was ready. Her Fulminancy flared to life in the night, brighter and stronger than the Councilman¡¯s.


    He flinched almost imperceptibly and took a tiny step away from Draven, though his knife remained at Draven¡¯s throat. Kess didn¡¯t think. Where the Councilman¡¯s Fulminancy had been controlled and focused, Kess¡¯s writhed around her like a tentacled creature, questing for more. Kess did her best to steer it away from Draven, though doing so nearly brought her to her knees.


    It was wild and uncontrollable, but in that, Kess had a tiny advantage. She stepped towards the Councilman. This time, instead of moving away, he swore under his breath and simply plunged his knife into Draven.


    The world froze. Kess no longer felt her aching leg, or the Lightstorm snapping above. She no longer felt the cool mountain breeze against her back, drenched in sweat. She no longer felt anything besides a numb sort of prickling in her fingers as dread lanced through her spine.


    Draven made a strange sort of croaking noise. He reached towards the wound, and his hand came back drenched in blood even as the Fulminant knife crackled away. The Councilman shoved him over, and he crumpled to the ground.


    Blood on the stones. A twinkling gold locket. A Lightstorm crackling overhead. There was a blur of color, light, and screams as Kess was forced back to that night so many years ago.


    It was happening again.


    Somewhere far away, Kess heard her own scream¡ªan anguished, deep growl that tore out of her throat like gravel. She charged towards Draven, no longer paying attention to her Fulminancy¡ªor to the Councilman.


    Time moved again.


    A glowing blue light snapped into life between her and Draven, and Kess leapt back at the last second. As it was, she nearly found herself burnt to a crisp by the attack. The acrid stench of Fulminancy filled the air and mingled with smoke, the metallic scent of blood wafting towards Kess on the breeze.


    She gritted her teeth as the Councilman put himself between her and Draven, his actions casual and relaxed. The message was clear: she wouldn¡¯t be able to save Draven without going through this man first. Though Kess despaired at the odds of her survival, something still felt different from the last time she¡¯d stared down one of these monsters.


    She wasn¡¯t afraid.


    She didn¡¯t feel much of anything, in fact, besides a raw sense of fury coursing through her veins, bringing numb limbs back to life as it washed away the pain. Fulminancy itself wound through her body, sparking new life where it touched, responding to her agony.


    Maybe I can¡¯t win, Kess thought. But I can at least buy Draven some time. Several sets of eyes peered out of Stone Market in the darkness. If Kess could hold off the Councilman long enough, then perhaps Draven, at least, could get away.


    Kess held her anger close to her breast, took a deep breath, and simply released the damper on her powers.


    Thunder loud enough to make her ears ring boomed overhead, and her Fulminancy crackled out on all sides, reaching far from where Kess made her stand. It twined through the air, dancing, exultant in its release. The Councilman gasped, wide-eyed beneath his Fulminant mask as Kess¡¯s Fulminancy arced towards him at a distance that shouldn¡¯t have been possible.


    He jumped as her blow hit nearby, barely clearing the ground where chunks of stone were blasted into the air. Kess smiled despite herself, settled into a nest of uncontrollable and wild magic, tangled and fierce as it cracked nearby.


    ¡°Fight me for him,¡± she shouted over the wind. ¡°A fair fight for his life.¡±


    ¡°If he survives that long,¡± the man said with a glance at Draven. Kess refused to look and simply nodded.


    The Councilman charged.

 Chapter 36: A Good Death

    Kess wasn¡¯t sure what she¡¯d expected when she released the limits on her powers. Utter destruction, perhaps, or even death. But while her powers were indeed wild and untamed, she found they did, at least try to follow her wants and needs. Perhaps, like an animal attached to a host, her Fulminancy simply wanted her to survive as much as she did.


    The harder part was directing it away from Draven. Her Fulminancy didn¡¯t seem to understand the concept of innocents, or of collateral damage. As her battle with the Councilman went on, the square was strewn with rubble, and Kess was very grateful for its size and open layout. She managed to steer an errant strike away from Draven and towards the Councilman at the last second, but it cost her dearly; something struck her torso, hard and fast, and Kess cried out, grabbing at her ribcage.


    The Councilman used her momentary distraction to attack again. This time, Kess heard the snap near her ear, and just rolled in time to avoid an attack from the back. She came up on one knee, gathered as much Fulminancy as she could muster into her hands, and simply swung it at the Councilman like an oversized sword.


    He hadn¡¯t been expecting that. He flew into a nearby tree, Kess¡¯s Fulminancy singeing his clothes before twining away from him and back into the air. Kess would have found it poetic if she wasn¡¯t checking the wound in her side. It would hold, for now.


    What Kess wasn¡¯t certain would hold was her stamina. I¡¯ve been doing too well, she realized. Beginner¡¯s luck might have accounted for much of it, but Kess knew how deep that well of power reached¡ªdeeper still, than what she dredged up now. The problem was that she was simply using it up much too fast. She was gasping for air, and a sick weakness crept into her legs that threatened to bring her down.


    The Councilman¡¯s motions were less confident as he dashed back towards her, but Kess had spent enough time in a ring to know when an opponent had her. He knows he¡¯s almost gassed me out too, she realized. Her suspicions were confirmed when he launched into a series of fast, exhausting attacks, the flashes illuminating the nearby buildings as Kess forced herself to dodge, roll, and occasionally snuff the attacks out with her own Fulminancy.


    I have to finish this now, she thought, trying to dodge with as little movement as possible. No one from Stone Market left to help, though Kess wasn¡¯t sure she could blame them. Instead, she focused on building up every last bit of Fulminancy she could for one final attack.


    It wove itself into a column as thick as a tree, moving with her like a churning vortex even as she dodged, wove, and stumbled through the Councilman¡¯s series of attacks. He eyed it warily, but his attacks were efficient, cruel, and unrelenting. His eyes were on the prize.


    Kess was exhausted, her limbs heavy and her lungs empty, but she grinned anyway, sweat streaming down her face. Her vortex arced into the sky to join with the Lightstorm there, and as the Councilman brought up his hands to lob another strike, Kess knew the distance was wrong. Fulminancy couldn¡¯t fly through the air, after all¡ªnot without being attached to its owner.


    She ripped her Fulminancy away and threw it towards the Councilman, grunting with the effort. It went, reluctantly, swallowing the man whole. Kess watched him, engulfed in the light of her own Fulminancy, and felt a churning mixture of shame, pride, and relief.


    Perhaps she¡¯d saved Draven, but at what cost?


    She turned back towards her mentor and father, but not before she saw a tiny glint out of the corner of her eye¡ªFulminancy, traveling towards her fast. But how¡­


    Kess willed her body to move.


    Nothing happened.


    Instead, her legs simply gave out, but not before the Fulminancy plowed into her body, sending her flying again. She tumbled through the courtyard, a ball of pain and light, and slammed into a low garden wall. Something sharp bit into her arm. She fumbled for it with thick fingers and found a piece of metal lodged deep into her arm. Too weak to pull it out, she simply left it there. Her vision threatened to black, but Kess held on, as she had for so many years in the ring. To black out was to die, whether she was in a ring or not.


    Footsteps approached¡ªunsteady, but confident. The Councilman crouched before her suddenly, his face swimming in her vision.


    ¡°You have remarkable talent,¡± he said, his breath rasping as he spoke. ¡°How you remained down here undetected for so long, we¡¯ll never know. Mariel herself would envy what you have¡ªit¡¯s incredible.¡±


    ¡°How did you¡ª¡± Kess began, then tried again when her voice came out as a thin rasp. ¡°How did you¡ªFulminancy can¡¯t detach, can it?¡±


    ¡°Of course it can,¡± he snapped dismissively. ¡°Particularly when you attach it to an object that resonates appropriately with it.¡± He said the words like they were obvious, and dimly, Kess realized he was talking about the chunk of metal lodged in her arm. She fumbled to remove it again, but her arms wouldn¡¯t move. Nearby, Draven still breathed, somehow, though a pool of his own blood crept out from his body.


    I¡¯ve failed, Kess realized, closing her eyes. I wasn¡¯t enough. The man gripped her face, studying her, and a creeping sense of dread wormed its way into Kess¡¯s mind again. Her skin prickled, and the panic she¡¯d pushed aside for survival¡¯s sake roared inside her mind again.


    ¡°Perhaps this is what Mariel was intending all this time,¡± the man murmured, holding her face. ¡°A coalescing of all that power¡ªlike a conduit for it.¡± He shook his head. ¡°The power to change and shape worlds.¡±


    He released her, then fished in his pocket for something¡ªhandcuffs, Kess realized. She managed to work some movement back into her limbs and lurched away from the wall. The Councilman lunged for her.


    An arc of dark lilac Fulminancy slammed into the man, knocking him sideways. Kess stared as her Shadow¡ªthe cloaked figure who¡¯d been following her the better half of the year¡ªdropped from the garden wall, her own face masked and hooded, and simply nodded at Kess.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t sit there much longer,¡± the figure said, voice garbled by Fulminancy. ¡°I don¡¯t fancy myself much of a fighter tonight.¡±


    Kess scrambled to her feet slowly, and lurched towards Draven even as a new fight erupted in front of her, a bombastic mixture of purples and blues, clashing in the night.


    Half walking, half falling, Kess knelt beside Draven and shook his shoulder gently. He groaned in response.


    ¡°Draven,¡± she whispered. ¡°Draven, we need to leave.¡±


    Miraculously, the man turned over and made it partially to his feet. Kess tried to help as best as she could, though she was half Draven¡¯s size, and carried her own share of wounds and exhaustion. Still, she got under his arm on his wounded side, and together, they inched their way from the square.


    Fulminancy snapped at them as they did so, but none of it touched them. Whoever Kess¡¯s Shadow was, she was practiced and efficient¡ªthe Councilman was outclassed and forced to let Kess and Draven limp away.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    They made it perhaps a block before Draven shuddered and convulsed, and Kess, trapped under his arm, was nearly crushed as he simply pitched forward into the street.


    Kess tried to support Draven¡¯s weight, but her legs collapsed out from under her, and her knees crashed into the ground as Draven simply went limp over her. Kess forced herself out from under his heavy arm, panicking, and rolled him over.


    His face was pale¡ªtoo pale. She fumbled for her scarf, a sense of relief washing over her as his chest rose and fell slowly. Still alive, she thought. For now. The scarf came away slowly with her cold, clumsy fingers, still weak from the fight. Kess pressed it into his wound as hard as she could, and it came away soaked. She held it there, hoping to staunch the bleeding, but her own arms shook in protest.


    How much power did I use back there? She wondered, arms trembling. How much time do I have left before¡ª


    Draven let out a groan, and his eyes fluttered open. He smiled at her weakly, and Kess choked back a sob. Where would she go from here? How would she¡ªweakened as she was¡ªdrag Draven to safety? If I could just get him back to Claire, she thought, then maybe¡­


    ¡°Lass,¡± Draven croaked. He knocked away her arm with his own, and Kess was shocked at the lack of strength in her body as he did so. ¡°Save yourself. You¡¯re not out of the woods yet.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving without you,¡± Kess said, and tried to cover his wound again. He caught her arm with a shocking amount of strength, and for a moment, Kess dared believe he might be okay¡ªthat Draven was simply faking his injury to avoid tangling with the Fulminant. ¡°Draven, I¡ªI need to tell you something. I¡ª¡°


    ¡°I know what you are, lass,¡± he said, holding her eyes. Kess wove a bit where she crouched in the street, the Lightstorm wind whipping her hair into her face.


    ¡°That¡¯s not everything,¡± she said quietly. ¡°It¡¯s more than being Fulminant. It¡¯s¡ª¡°


    ¡°I know all of it,¡± he said, his voice solemn. ¡°There was never¡­any reason to be ashamed of it, lass.¡± His eyes left her face and focused on some distant point in the storm above. ¡°We all come down here to forget something. Maybe you came down here to forget yourself, but doing so has an odd way of reminding you who you really are.¡±


    As he spoke, his voice faded to almost a whisper, and Kess had to strain to hear it over the crackling of the storm. ¡°You¡­¡± he trailed off, coughing. ¡°You came to save us, didn¡¯t you, lass?¡±


    Kess shook her head, tears running down her face, her grip on Draven¡¯s hand ice cold and so tight her bones creaked.


    ¡°You did,¡± he said, eyes glassy. ¡°It was always for the people. I knew it would¡­find a way¡­back where it belonged. Down here. Protecting them. I was¡­¡± He trailed off again, and Kess¡¯s tears hit his blood-soaked shirt. It was too much, she realized. Entirely too much blood, even for a man his size. ¡°I was proud to serve you,¡± he whispered. ¡°Don¡¯t lose¡­¡±


    He coughed again, and his grip tightened on Kess¡¯s hand with sudden intensity. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh. His next words were stronger, with a final note to them. ¡°Whatever you do, lass, make me proud.¡±


    Draven grew still. Kess let out a choked sound, then shook his shoulder, but he didn¡¯t respond. And so, she sat back, tears streaming down her face, her Fulminancy whipping senselessly into the night as she knelt before Draven¡¯s body, head bowed, knowing she¡¯d failed the only people in the world who had ever mattered to her.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t for the people, Draven,¡± she finally whispered, her words dying on the wind. ¡°It was never for them. It was only for death.¡±


    After that, she simply sat quietly, unable to move, unable to feel anything but disbelief. He couldn¡¯t be gone. He would sit up soon, laughing at the grand joke he¡¯d played on her¡ªa ploy to simply finally get her to use Fulminancy.


    That¡¯s it, she thought dimly. That¡¯s what will happen.


    She knew as soon as she thought it that it was a lie.


    She didn¡¯t know how long she sat there, unflinching as lightning snapped into buildings nearby and let out ear-piercing peals of energy. She didn¡¯t know when the tears stopped, or when her body finally went numb, a sweet sort of relief from the pain of her many injuries. She didn¡¯t know how long her own Fulminancy danced around her, playing in the air above the macabre sight of Draven¡¯s body.


    A particularly nasty bolt of lightning drew her out of her shocked mourning for just long enough to notice the Shadow, lurking nearby, watching her. Waiting for something.


    Wasn¡¯t she¡­helping me? Kess¡¯s thoughts were dull, her mind an empty buzz. She knew she should move, but how could she leave Draven behind? Her eyes drifted back to Draven again. But was it really him anymore?


    Yes, a part of her insisted. He deserved the dignity of a proper burial in the rocks of the nearby mountain. He didn¡¯t deserve to be left here, in a pool of his own blood, as cloudspawn pecked at his corpse.


    Through some strength Kess hadn¡¯t known she had, she lurched to her feet, rolled Draven over, and wedged herself underneath his torso. She focused on the small motions required to position herself, instead of the weight of Draven¡¯s corpse draped over her back. As it was, she could only sort of half drag him through the streets.


    Her back screamed in protest, and Kess was uncertain how much longer her body would tolerate the abuse. Her Fulminancy still whipped around erratically, and her arm and torso bled freely.


    And yet, she stumbled forward. She would get Draven somewhere safe¡ªwherever that was.


    The boom and crack of Fulminancy startled Kess out of her slow, creeping progress forward¡ªher Shadow, landing nearby. Kess stopped, which wasn¡¯t hard to do, slumped as she was under Drav¡¯s weight.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± she asked. Her voice rasped on the words, broken and grim.


    ¡°Now, now, is that any way to treat the woman who saved you?¡± the Shadow asked. The voice was distinctly female, though it hummed in a way that made the nuance of the voice hard to parse. Fulminant energy circled her throat in the same way it had the Councilman¡¯s. She smiled, a crackling energy gathering in her hand.


    ¡°Why bother saving me?¡± Kess asked, numb to the threat. If anything, her anger rose at the injustice of it. She¡¯d done all of this for nothing. Draven was dead, Oliver gone, and Kess would die too. What good had Fulminancy done her? ¡°Why bother following me, helping me, getting rid of that Councilman for me if you intended to kill me all this time?¡±


    The Shadow¡¯s smile faded. ¡°Because you weren¡¯t ready,¡± she said, her voice quiet. ¡°And they weren¡¯t worthy of facing you.¡± She gave Kess a little up and down glance, and nodded grimly at the Fulminancy snapping at Kess¡¯s cloak. ¡°But this will do. It¡¯s been a good hunt, Seventh Seat¡ªbut all good things must come to an end.¡± The snap of the woman¡¯s darkened Fulminancy echoed off the nearby buildings, and Kess flinched in spite of herself. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right¡­¡± The woman trailed off, and her Fulminancy popped again. She smiled grimly. ¡°¡­Mariel?¡±


    Kess took a small, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. She shrugged Draven¡¯s weight off and let him fall to the street as gently as she could manage. It was only a matter of time, she reminded herself. They were bound to send someone after you, eventually. But why now, when Draven was still and motionless before her? Why now, when she¡¯d only just begun to touch her powers again? And why now, when she¡¯d been helpless for years on end, without any way of defending against the Fulminant?


    Kess pushed the thoughts aside, her arm throbbing viciously where she hadn¡¯t bothered to remove the piece of metal from the Councilman. She looked up at her Shadow, exhausted, knowing she¡¯d failed. There was no point in pretending anymore.


    ¡°Mariel died that night,¡± Kess said quietly, dredging up Fulminant energy from even deeper inside than she had with the Councilman. Shockingly, she found it there, exultant at her touch, though it writhed like something slippery¡ªit was hard to control and even harder to direct. Still, she wouldn¡¯t need to direct it for this. ¡°She died that night,¡± Kess repeated, ¡°but I never needed to be Mariel to deal with you.¡±


    The Shadow regarded her casually as Kess¡¯s Fulminancy stuttered and crackled back to life, twisting and writhing into the sky. Gone was the relative control of her fight earlier. Gone was any sense of self-preservation. Kess simply gave her powers every bit of life she had, and let them fly.


    She didn¡¯t need to ascend to the Seat of Mariel to use her powers. She¡¯d never needed to be what the Council demanded of her. She could have her powers, raw and untamed, without being manipulated and controlled.


    As her Fulminancy crackled around her, wild and terrifying, Kess finally felt freedom¡ªand knew that it would cost her.


    ¡°No,¡± her Shadow finally replied, her voice grim. ¡°I never thought you did.¡±


    Kess smiled a little, and though her Shadow was wreathed in her own Fulminancy, Kess thought she saw understanding there.


    ¡°Make it a good death,¡± she whispered.

 Chapter 37: Out of His Depth

    Rowan arrived in time to see Kess glowing¡ªa dark, foreboding light awakening the air around her. It spiraled away, and though the sky was still twilight through the clouds, darkness swept in where the storm overhead gathered, the clouds thick, heavy, and black. A few of them drifted down to join that cyclone of power, sucked away into Kess herself, who stood protectively in front of Draven.


    Lightning surged around her, not just from within, but from the sky itself. Rowan shook his head in awe. Neither his brothers nor his mother were capable of anything close to this level, and though he knew his father was skilled in his own right, even his raw displays of power were nothing like this. He couldn¡¯t think of a single red and blue sash that had this level of power¡ªnot even on the Council.


    Rowan had his sword drawn, but it was enough to make him take a step back.


    It suddenly dawned on him that he had very little idea what he was actually dealing with. Kess had been controlling herself. Those little slips throughout her life in the manor were handfuls of water from a dam overrun with power. Kess had placed a cap on powers so deep, so raging, that the very nature of them might swallow her alive.


    That cap was apparently gone, now.


    He hadn¡¯t been wrong that night. The Lightstorm had been playing with her, and today, as the wind whipped around the three of them, it came to dance. Lightning twined around Kess but never struck her, the light a carousel of destruction as it struck stones and sent chips flying into the air.


    Kess didn¡¯t register Rowan¡¯s presence as she flung herself at the hooded woman, and Fulminancy snapped in the air. Rowan found himself momentarily at a loss. He¡¯d come here to help Kess, but it seemed she was getting along fine without him.


    He watched their fight for a few moments, staying far away from the Fulminancy as he made his way over to Draven. At first glance, perhaps, Kess was fine, but each flash of Fulminancy told a different story. Blood ran down her side. She held one arm limp and loose, something lodged in it. Her face was pale and drawn, and most shockingly, her arms and legs trembled violently each time she slowed down.


    Rowan hadn¡¯t dealt with much Fulminancy, but he knew the telltale signs of burnout when he saw them. He crouched in front of Draven, felt for a pulse, and realized grimly that Kess wasn¡¯t fighting for Draven at all¡ªbut for his body.


    Kess was fast, but she was faltering. Though the power she had brought up was enough to shame every Fulminancer in the city, she had let it out with no dampers, and it was destroying her body as she fought the cloaked woman. Her blows grew sloppier and her legs shakier.


    Rowan saw the panic in her eyes, alongside a grim sort of resignation. She hadn¡¯t meant to draw this much up. Maybe she didn¡¯t even know she had it to begin with. I have to do something, or I¡¯ll be bringing two corpses home, he thought.


    He still wasn¡¯t sure where he stood with Kess. He didn¡¯t really trust her, and her powers were a ticking time bomb. But how different were his experiments, really? Perhaps he and Kess were simply two sides of the same coin¡ªregardless, she didn¡¯t deserve to die here today, as Draven had.


    Rowan straightened, trying not to think too hard about it, then simply launched himself between the women. The cloaked figure gasped and just barely slipped out of his grasp, but his contact with Kess was solid¡ªhe¡¯d come from her blind spot. Warmth flowed into his hands from her Fulminancy, and some of the cloaked woman¡¯s power snapped at him, searing his clothes.


    ¡°Rowan,¡± Kess croaked. She barely seemed to recognize him, though she shook out the arm he¡¯d caught in confusion. The cloaked woman turned to run, and Kess followed, but not before Rowan reached out again, this time catching her bare hand.


    Her Fulminancy snapped against his flesh, stronger this time, searing and burning where it met, and a painful surge of warmth flooded through his body. The aroma of burnt skin filled the night as that Fulminancy snapped through his arm, a sharp pain, but Rowan held on.


    Kess took another step forward, but her eyes lost their light long before she collapsed. Rowan caught her light frame deftly and knew he would pay for it later. At least it worked, he thought. His powers, whatever they were, were hardly predictable, even in the best of times. He was loath to experiment with them on people, but he had dealt with burnout before, and what Kess had just done was damning. He wasn¡¯t sure how much time he had to get her back to Claire, or if the damage was so great that there would be no saving the woman at all. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, and her face pallid. He would have to¡ª


    ¡°Neat trick.¡± The voice came from behind him. Rowan jumped in spite of himself and whipped his head around to where Kess¡¯s opponent stood nearby, her stance relaxed. I could have sworn she ran off, he thought. And yet, as the woman took a few steps towards him, he realized she¡¯d nearly silenced her footsteps with Fulminancy¡ªFulminancy that should have been long gone after Rowan¡¯s touch.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    But it wasn¡¯t.


    She let it crackle to life in her hands, a dark gray, and Rowan realized he¡¯d made a mistake.


    Not enough contact, he thought grimly, Kess in arms. Not nearly enough. He stood there for a moment, frozen, trying to figure out how to both dodge Fulminancy and defend himself without leaving Kess helpless.


    He had little time to think. The woman lobbed a bolt towards them both, and Rowan winced, bracing himself for the impact.


    It never came. A snap, crack, and small boom popped in the air nearby. Rowan opened his eyes, shocked, as Kess¡¯s Fulminancy met the strike midair. It was wild and untamed, dancing around the two of them. It had been so spread out before that Rowan hadn¡¯t even noticed that some of it persisted. As it was, it had dimmed considerably in brightness, but phantom tendrils wove out and clashed with the hooded woman¡¯s powers until they snuffed out.


    Rowan glanced at Kess, his heart hammering in his chest from the near miss. She was still out cold. And even odder, her Fulminancy hadn¡¯t touched Rowan at all.


    The other woman hissed. She looked at her hand with distaste as her Fulminancy stuttered and died with a repetitive click. Rowan took another step back just in case, and the woman simply laughed at him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so panicked,¡± she said casually. ¡°You got a good amount of it, even with that light touch.¡± She nodded towards Kess. ¡°I still don¡¯t know how hers isn¡¯t gone, given that you snuffed her twice. I guess if you have that much of it, it takes a bit for it to fade.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know,¡± Rowan said carefully. Who was this woman, and why was she after Kess? She gave Rowan an up and down sweep, contemplative.


    ¡°Never seen a trick like that before,¡± she said. ¡°I bet the Council would kill to have something like that on their side¡ªor at least locked up.¡±


    Rowan stiffened, and though Kess was in his arms, he fumbled for his sword anyway, jostling her. The woman, however, simply turned away from him.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t bother,¡± she said. ¡°They didn¡¯t hire me for you¡ªjust the girl. And seeing how we¡¯re both all tuckered out, I think I¡¯ll simply go home with my tail between my legs. There¡¯s always next time.¡± She glanced over her shoulder at the Fulminancy snapping around Kess and Rowan protectively. A few tendrils of it snapped towards the woman, though she made no aggressive moves. ¡°It seems to like you, Northmont.¡±


    Rowan flinched. ¡°How do you know my¡ªwait, it?¡±


    ¡°The Fulminancy,¡± the woman amended. ¡°Her Fulminancy, to be precise. And everyone knows you, Northmont. The prodigal son, soon to return Uphill with a new lease on life, and new technology to boot. Justice for the Downhill, progress and wealth for the Uphill. It¡¯s all a very grand fairy tale I don¡¯t have time for. A better tale is why that girl¡¯s Fulminancy bothered protecting you at all with her out cold.¡±


    ¡°Fulminancy doesn¡¯t have a will of its own,¡± Rowan said quietly.


    For a moment the woman simply cocked her head, the wind of the Lightstorm whipping at her hood. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it?¡± she finally asked.


    She raised a single hand and left Rowan behind and the streets empty save for Draven¡¯s body. Rowan took a moment to thank Mariel for his good fortune as the woman disappeared, then took stock of his situation.


    Draven was dead. Kess nearly so. The street was cracked where her Fulminancy had clashed with the hooded woman¡¯s. I need to figure out a way to get him home, Rowan thought, looking around for carriages. It felt good to focus on something practical after the chaos of the evening.


    Draven deserved better, he thought, sparing the man another regretful glance. Rowan hadn¡¯t known him very well, but Draven had always been kind, and he ran the underground with a sense of fatherhood that no one else seemed able to emulate. He had been a good man, and Rowan would make sure his death was treated with some dignity, at least.


    The streets, however, remained empty¡ªno carriages, no runner boys, and no people. It was unsurprising given that the Downhill usually stayed very far away from Fulminancy. He would have to hire someone further up the mountain¡ªif anyone would help at all. Sighing, he began his trek through the streets, Kess in arms.


    As he walked, her Fulminancy continued to snap around him protectively, though within a few minutes, it faded to a whisper, the light dimming rapidly. That scared Rowan, and he glanced at Kess worriedly, but she still breathed for now. Before the last bit of her Fulminancy snuffed out, a tendril of it wrapped gently around his arm, and Rowan felt a distinct sense of gratitude from it. Then it shattered into nothing.


    Rowan paused in the streets, staring at where the Fulminancy had shattered. How could he feel an emotion from something that should have just been energy?


    It¡¯s like someone else has control over it, Kess had said. When I use it, it¡¯s like it wants something. Rowan had paid little attention to her statement at the time, given his frustration with her reluctance to touch such an untapped well of power.


    Now it rang with a truth Rowan couldn¡¯t ignore.


    And at that moment, standing in the streets with Kess in his arms, the Lightstorm flashing above, Rowan realized something crucial about his own experiments with Fulminancy.


    He wasn¡¯t dealing with science¡ªhe was dealing with nature.


    And suddenly he felt very very out of his depth.

 Chapter 38: A Phantom Limb

    Rowan sat up that night in the kitchens, unable to sleep. He¡¯d changed and bathed, at least, but his arm was still a charred mess where Kess had lashed out in self defense before being snuffed, and he wasn¡¯t willing to ask Claire for help given Kess¡¯s state. Claire had shooed him out of the ward hours ago, though perhaps it was for the best; Rowan had a hard time watching Kess¡¯s pale face, or worse, Claire¡¯s genuine concern. It was rare to find Claire baffled by anyone¡¯s injuries, and though Kess¡¯s wounds were easily taken care of, Claire had found her burnout obviously shocking. The only time Rowan had seen a comparable response was when he¡¯d brought in a man from a construction accident with several missing limbs.


    He sat at one of the tall kitchen prep tables, carving a tiny wood piece quietly, hoping it would calm his mind. Eamon baked somewhere behind him, a series of clangs and humming accompanying his work, and Arlette quietly swore at another nearby table as she jotted down a series of numbers, then repeatedly erased them. Their moods were subdued; Draven¡¯s death might affect anyone living Downhill, and Kess¡ªthough still new to the manor¡ªhad managed to at least worm her way into Eamon¡¯s heart after some of their practice sessions. Arlette was mostly just concerned about the implications of having someone with that much power living under her roof.


    How do I feel about it, though? Rowan wondered. He took another tiny chunk of wood away. Instead of Kess, he found his thoughts on her Fulminancy¡ªon that final note of gratitude as it shattered into the Lightstorm. Had it really wanted something? Or was it simply Kess¡¯s will, imposed over the powers? Surely she was grateful for her life. And yet¡ª


    The kitchen door cracked open and Claire barged in, eyes tired and hair pulled back into a wild tangle of curls. She passed Rowan wordlessly, and a snap of green Fulminancy spread into his arm, soothing the skin from an angry red to a dull pink. She didn¡¯t even glance at him as she made her way towards the counter where Eamon had set out several dozen buns filled with meats and cheeses.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t need to do that,¡± Rowan said quietly. Claire looked up at him, mouth half full.


    ¡°Do what?¡±


    ¡°Heal my arm,¡± he replied, showing her the newly patched skin. ¡°Save it for Kess.¡±


    Claire regarded him for a moment, still chewing. Eamon, at least, looked pleased with her appetite and hummed a lighter tune as he put another batch into the oven. ¡°Oh that,¡± she finally said. She waved her hand at him dismissively as she dug around in the cabinets and emerged with a bottle of fizzed water. ¡°I don¡¯t even think about stuff that small anymore. It just happens if I don¡¯t watch my Fulminancy¡ªit might as well have a mind of its own.¡±


    She strolled over to Rowan, then took his arm in her hand, looking disappointed. ¡°Would have left a great scar,¡± she said. ¡°So that¡¯s a pity.¡±


    Claire returned to her meal, nonplussed, but Rowan found it hard to let go of her words.


    ¡°It just¡­does it on its own?¡± he asked.


    ¡°For the most part,¡± she replied. ¡°When I first started healing, I had to really think about everything, but now I really only have to be deliberate with big things like Kess. You sort of have to¡­¡± she trailed off, thinking. ¡°¡­push what you want through the Fulminancy, I suppose. Healing Fulminancers is particularly difficult because their Fulminancy feels like you¡¯re intruding. It¡¯s like a body rejecting an organ, or blood, I suppose.¡± She shrugged, taking another bun from Eamon¡¯s tray. ¡°Doesn¡¯t make much sense considering that they¡¯re nearly completely drained of their own Fulminancy by the time they come to see me, anyway.¡±


    Rowan stared at the partially carved figure in his hands, stunned. Kess¡¯s Fulminancy had protected him. Claire¡¯s healed for her without her own input. Could it really be sentient, like Kess thought? He wondered. Does everyone¡¯s Fulminancy actually want something?


    Rowan felt a series of possibilities open in his mind and itched to pull out a notebook. Perhaps the solution to his own problems could be found in this revelation. All he would have to do was find Fulminancy that wanted to remain stable. Certainly he wanted it to, but perhaps Claire¡¯s Fulminancy¡ªand the other varieties he¡¯d tried¡ªsimply weren¡¯t tuned to be steady and consistent. Though¡ªoddly¡ªClaire¡¯s Fulminancy had a bit of a calming effect when his lights were powered by it. They were dark now, of course, lacking her touch¡ªshe¡¯d needed as much of her Fulminancy as possible to deal with what had happened to Kess.


    Rowan pushed thoughts of his experiment out of his mind momentarily as he felt a stab of guilt. Kess is nearly dead and you¡¯re thinking of your experiments and how you can save your own hide, he thought bitterly. Perhaps Claire was right¡ªhe was a coward.


    ¡°How is she?¡± he finally asked. Eamon exchanged a glance with Arlette that Rowan didn¡¯t miss¡ªa ¡®maybe we shouldn¡¯t be here¡¯ look. Claire continued chewing for a moment and gave Rowan a pointed look.


    ¡°I mean, she¡¯s not dead,¡± she said. Arlette snorted behind him.


    ¡°Has anyone ever told you that you have a terrible bedside manner?¡± she asked Claire.


    ¡°Well, seeing as how I¡¯m not beside anyone¡¯s bed right now, I have to say they¡¯re wrong.¡±


    Rowan sighed, but internally he felt some sense of relief. If Claire¡¯s panic was gone and her mouth back, then perhaps Kess would be alright. Claire collected a few extra buns after Eamon encouraged her, then left the kitchen behind. Rowan was tempted to follow her, but what good could he do? He had no powers, felt mildly nauseated around blood, and had spent the last month calling Kess names.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He returned to his carving, trying to let the sounds of Eamon¡¯s baking and Arlette¡¯s swearing and repeated numbers lull him, but his thoughts returned to his lights. If his Fulminancy powered them, could he help them remain stable? Perhaps, like Kess and Claire¡¯s, his Fulminancy would simply do what he wanted¡ªand Rowan wanted nothing more than stability. How he would scale something like that, he didn¡¯t know, but it was a good start, if a bit insane.


    With Kess out of commission, it would be a while yet before they could make their appearance at court. Grandbow, at least, seemed content for now with Rowan¡¯s promises of cheaper and brighter lights, but he could tell by the tone of the man¡¯s letters that Grandbow¡¯s patience was waning¡ªand he¡¯d already received a few complaints about blown lights in the city.


    Rowan knew little about the concept of power transfer, but there were some mentions of it¡ªmostly in fiction or tales for children. For a scholar, that seemed like a terrible place to start, but where else would he look? If it had ever existed at all, it was lost to history. People simply didn¡¯t transfer Fulminancy. It was an unwritten rule.


    There was another place to look, however. Rowan slowed his carving as the thought dawned on him. The Archives, he realized. Information that old¡ªif it was real¡ªwould only be found deep within the building itself. Rowan¡¯s black sash might get him into the building, but no further. He would need clearance from a Council member to venture deeper inside, where anything useful might be kept.


    Rowan blew a few shavings from the bird he carved, being careful to direct them away from Eamon¡¯s creations. His stomach complained loudly, but Rowan felt equally nauseated at the prospect of getting into the Archives. When Kess was back on her feet¡ªif she made it back on her feet¡ªhe would have to both convince Grandbow to slow the rollout further, and look for a way into the Archives in a court that found him mostly repulsive.


    He stared at the small bird forming in his hands for a very long time as he tried to parse through the impossibility of it all. It weighed down on him, all of it¡ªKess¡¯s injuries, his own lies and deceit about his Fulminant lights, and the impossibility of solving the secret of Fulminancy before someone was seriously injured.


    A hand fell on his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts¡ªEamon¡¯s. Rowan sheathed his knife and looked up at the man¡¯s dark face. There was concern there, but also a reassuring smile.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be alright, lad,¡± he said quietly. Next to him, Arlette checked a sheet of paper and kept peering at the stuffed buns on the counter for some reason. ¡°If nothing else, that girl knows how to survive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried,¡± Rowan began. ¡°I¡ª¡° He hesitated as Arlette and Eamon both gave him knowing looks. ¡°Is it that obvious?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± they said in unison. Eamon chuckled softly and clapped him on the back.


    ¡°Get some sleep, lad. And some food. Won¡¯t be long before you¡¯re up there spreading light throughout the city.¡±


    He moved to leave, hanging his apron on a hook, but paused as Arlette cackled loudly.


    ¡°This one,¡± she exclaimed, holding up a bun triumphantly. She waggled it in her hand at Eamon, a knowing smile on her face. ¡°You Fanas-spawned demon, you thought you had me!¡± Eamon watched, amused, as Arlette bit into the bun, and the perpetual scowl that usually decorated her face fell away into a semblance of bliss.


    ¡°Custard,¡± Eamon said simply. Arlette nodded, smiling, her eyes closed as she chewed. Rowan looked at Eamon questioningly. ¡°I wanted her to do the manor inventory, but she said it was too pedestrian for her talents¡ªso I gave her a statistical puzzle instead. One that would require her to inventory the food.¡±


    Arlette stopped chewing. ¡°That¡¯s what this was about?¡± The scowl returned, and she brushed past Eamon as he laughed. She booted the door nearly off the hinges as she left, though Rowan didn¡¯t miss the way she kept eating the bun on the way out. He smiled in spite of himself.


    Eamon shrugged. ¡°Sometimes you have to trick the smart ones into doing the dull work,¡± he said.


    ¡°Why are you redoing inventory now?¡± Rowan asked, frowning at the buns. ¡°Didn¡¯t we do it last month?¡±


    ¡°We did,¡± Eamon agreed. ¡°But local shops have been coming up short. Supposedly there¡¯s some thievery going around, and people are storing extra just to make sure they¡¯re not caught empty-handed.¡± He sighed, looking tired.


    ¡°So you¡¯re trying to make sure we have plenty.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Eamon replied. ¡°And with Kess¡¯s little incident, they¡¯ve been tightening down security. Makes it harder to get in or out of sections of the city¡ªparticularly if you¡¯re a lower sash.¡± He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. ¡°Fewer fights means less work for Arlette, and that woman needs something to keep her busy or she goes mad.¡± He nodded at the buns still cooling on the counter. ¡°Eat some of those. I didn¡¯t make them all for Claire, you know.¡±


    Rowan smiled and nodded at Eamon, and the man left him alone in the kitchen. He gathered a few of the buns into a handkerchief, pocketed his knife and carving, and dumped the lot off in his room. He hoped to get at least some rest before the night was up, but he stopped by the ward first.


    Claire was there¡ªglowing faintly, but asleep in a chair next to Kess¡¯s bed. Rowan tried not to look at her. The pale glow of her face against Claire¡¯s Fulminancy was ghastly. Instead, he simply gathered a pile of dirty linens Claire had left by the door and left the two women alone.


    If Kess didn¡¯t make it, he knew he shouldn¡¯t be bothered. He¡¯d known her for a little over a month, and yet something about her gave Rowan pause. Kess was a mystery¡ªa storm of a person whirling with contradictions and hypocrisies that baffled him as much as they intrigued him.


    What he¡¯d seen that night baffled him further¡ªpowers so damning and overwhelming that they might well wipe Hillcrest off the map. A part of Rowan was terrified at what might happen if he kept pushing her to use her powers. And yet, a larger part of him wanted answers.


    Kess¡¯s powers were different, the same as his supposed ¡®lack¡¯ of powers were. If he could get to the bottom of what made powers like hers possible, perhaps they would hold answers to his own mysteries. If Kess pulled through, she would unlock more doors than Rowan could on his own.


    At least, that¡¯s what he told himself.


    But a larger part of him had problems forgetting her wry smile in the mornings as she answered her door half-clothed in an attempt to fluster him. Or her face, small and determined as she swung that staff around in the darkened warehouse. Her resigned sigh and the determined set of her shoulders as she got back up to try again each day, hatred of her Fulminancy be damned. Or her hollow, grim eyes as she faced death with no one but the storm to witness it.


    As he went to dump the clothes into the laundry pile, he felt something stuffed into one of the pockets of Kess¡¯s bloodied shirt¡ªan owl, intricately carved by Rowan¡¯s own hand.


    He stood there with that owl for a long time, where he had a hard time ignoring those images as they played about in his head, where Kess was a phantom limb that he couldn¡¯t quite reconcile his life without.

 Chapter 39: More Beautiful Times

    Kess had died before. She remembered that steady pull on her soul, as if something was pulling her away from everything she knew. She remembered the dead as they surrounded her, beckoning. She remembered blood trickling away from lockets, and a storm that comforted as much as it raged. She also remembered a searing heat churning through her body, burning her inside and out¡ªa fire unable to be quenched. This time was no different. Only thoughts of her family gave her a tenuous grasp on reality¡ªor what family she was left with, anyway.


    This time, thoughts of her family meant Draven. At some point her parents and her aunt and uncle joined the mix, and the laughter was no longer welcoming and jovial, but a manic chorus of off-pitch whining as their images swirled into darkness, leaving Oliver. Oliver morphed into Draven¡¯s corpse, hanging from a rope, his eyes glassy and a pile of bodies below his feet, while the bodies echoed in Draven¡¯s voice, ¡°A Mariel of the people.¡±


    Pain and something heavy on her chest brought her out of her own personal purgatory. She was on fire, but a vibration spread throughout her body, racking every muscle with pain. She heard someone gasp, then devolve into coughing, and realized, distantly, that it was her. Swearing erupted beside her, and Kess opened her eyes to someone she very much did not want to see.


    Claire sat there, a book in hand, her sharp eyes focused on Kess. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t say I expected that,¡± she said, watching Kess curiously.


    ¡°How long?¡± Kess croaked, leaning back into the pillows.


    ¡°A few days,¡± Claire said. ¡°You¡¯re welcome again, by the way. At least you¡¯re interesting. Apparently, you¡¯re able to not only siphon off my Fulminancy while unconscious, but in large enough quantities that you sped up the process.¡± She shook her head, shutting her book. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you did it, but you can thank me by giving answers.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how I did it either,¡± Kess replied, sitting up on the pillows with a wince. Her chest was heavy, and just sitting up had made her rasp with effort. Claire handed her a drink¡ªsomething chilled and sweet¡ªand as she took a sip, she immediately she felt somewhat human again.


    ¡°Has it ever happened before?¡± Claire asked.


    ¡°Burnout? Yes. I don¡¯t know about the other part,¡± Kess said. She¡¯d always figured that something had kept her alive that night years ago, but she¡¯d been unconscious for most of it.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen burnout so strong before,¡± Claire said, stacking the book on a pile. ¡°You should be dead.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should have left me that way.¡± Kess stared into the cup. She hadn¡¯t intended to die, exactly, but she¡¯d known it was a very real possibility when facing her Shadow. Injured and already at her limits with her Fulminancy, she hadn¡¯t expected to make it out of the fight alive. She would have been able to track me down anyway, Kess realized. Even if I¡¯d run. At least I tried to protect Draven. Her thoughts darkened again. It didn¡¯t seem fair that she was alive while Drav rotted in the streets.


    ¡°Trust me, it was tempting. But I like a challenge.¡± Claire leaned back in her chair, hazel eyes dangerous but sparkling with mirth at the same time. Kess found it hard to see the humor in any of it, but she didn¡¯t miss the dark circles under Claire¡¯s eyes, or the way her normally well kept curls were disheveled, even pulled back away from her face. This healing had cost her something.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Kess said into the cup. Claire turned her head away from Kess, staring at the door to the room.


    ¡°I like to think of it as an intellectual challenge,¡± she said, crossing her arms. ¡°I¡¯ve learned more in a few days of trying to keep you alive than I did in years of what passes for school in the damned Uphill. I have to make sure I¡¯ve got this right, especially with you, or it¡¯ll blow the next time you use it. Which¡ªby the way, don¡¯t try anything like that again.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t planning on it.¡±


    They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, with Kess still trying to process the events of several nights ago, and Claire attempting to bore a hole in the wall with her gaze. When Claire spoke again, her voice was as gentle as Kess had ever heard it.


    ¡°Rowan brought your friend back.¡±


    ¡°Draven,¡± Kess said, leaning back. Claire nodded.


    ¡°He¡¯s safe in a warehouse right now, and when we have a chance, Arlette knows a way out of the city where you can bury him in peace.¡± Her mouth twisted into a scowl. ¡°I¡¯m not sure you¡¯ll be up to it soon, though.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that bad?¡± Kess asked. Claire shrugged, eyes still focused on the wall.


    ¡°Who can say? Maybe you¡¯ll surprise me again.¡±


    Something in Kess unknotted. Rowan had brought him back. Draven wouldn¡¯t be left to rot in the city streets, a reminder of all that she had failed to do.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Claire sat up and dug around in a nearby drawer. She emerged with something that glinted gold in the light and handed it to Kess. ¡°Here, I found this in your arm. You have the same one on your cloak, so I figured you might want it back.¡±


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Kess took what she now realized was a Stormclap pin from Claire¡¯s hands and stared at it as the woman disappeared into a back room. In the bright light of the ward¡ªmercifully cast by lanterns¡ªit was hard to miss its similarities to the pin that belonged to Oliver¡¯s Stormclap board. Kess turned, wincing at how every action seemed to take a monumental amount of effort, and found her other pin nearby, on top of her washed and folded cloak on the nightstand.


    She held the two of them up to the light, comparing them. It was only then that she realized they weren¡¯t just similar¡ªthey were the same pins, from the same Stormclap set. Oliver had that board handmade, she remembered. He couldn¡¯t find a generic one in stock anywhere. He¡¯d been proud of the craftsmanship that went into the board and had spent quite some time pointing out the delicate carvings in the pins themselves. Kess had paid little attention, as panicked as she was about the location and the board to boot.


    Her stomach sank as she realized the implication of the extra pin. Someone on the Council had found her destroyed home.


    And someone Uphill knew of her connection to Oliver.


    Kess spent the next several days sleeping and trying to understand Claire. The odd woman was always in a hurry and out of sorts, though the stress of healing Kess might have been the cause of that. She also spent just as much time fussing over the plants in her ward as she did Kess. Though she could barely walk, Kess wanted nothing more than to return to her own room. It became a goal of sorts, and Claire, as usual, stood in the way. Finally, tired of fighting with and complaining at the woman, Kess tried another tactic.


    She asked about the plants.


    ¡°Clouds, Kess, do you need a book or something? I already told you what this one was.¡±


    Kess wasn¡¯t about to ask for the book she¡¯d been reading before all of this¡ªa trashy romance novel Rowan had caught her with¡ªso she kept her mouth shut. ¡°But why bother with plants when you can just heal?¡± she asked. Claire scowled at the stout little plant she was tending, its leaves a fleshy, thick variety that Kess itched to touch.


    ¡°Fulminancy still feels like cheating,¡± she said quietly.


    ¡°How is it cheating?¡± Kess asked. ¡°You trained with it, same as an herbalist would have to.¡±


    ¡°Kess,¡± Claire said, uncharacteristically solemn. ¡°Have you ever gone to an herbalist for heals?¡± Kess watched Claire work and wished that the sterile ward had something a little more interesting to look at. At least the plants made for some variety.


    ¡°Most of the time I skipped them entirely,¡± she said, thinking back to her injuries from fights gone awry.


    ¡°Why?¡± Claire said, not leaving her work.


    ¡°Well, because I¡¯d heal up just as fast on my own.¡±


    Claire met her eyes then, a knowing look on her face. ¡°You probably don¡¯t have any Fulminant heals to compare it with, but herbalists would have to train a lifetime to achieve what I could do with a human body as a Fulminant apprentice. I can do a sloppier job, be a worse doctor, simply because of my Fulminancy.¡± She nodded at Kess¡¯s leg, where a red line was still visible on her skin. ¡°That was infected, by the way. An herbalist would have been able to save that if you¡¯d gone to them early. If you showed up at their doorstep that bad, you would have lost the leg.¡±


    Kess ignored the chiding in Claire¡¯s tone. ¡°It still doesn¡¯t seem like cheating,¡± she said. ¡°Not if you were born with it.¡±


    ¡°And you, Kess? Would you fight with your Fulminancy just because you were born with it?¡±


    ¡°Fighting is different,¡± Kess replied, frowning. ¡°There¡¯s a code of honor to it¡ªan agreement that you and your opponent are on the same footing.¡±


    Claire snorted and returned to her plant. ¡°Ah yes, fair footing¡ªa fundamental tenet of human warfare for centuries.¡± Kess rolled her eyes, but she thought Claire was missing the point. Ring fighting was agreed upon combat¡ªnot the bloody no-rules version of combat that street fighting or warfare was. They were two completely different things. Regardless, there was a lot to respect about a woman who was willing to learn to do things the hard way, even when she¡¯d been given the easy way. It was a lot like a large man learning a martial art and its intricacies without relying on his inherent strength to let him coast through matches.


    Kess leaned back again, then caught another plant she hadn¡¯t noticed¡ªbeautiful red and gold flowers erupting from a pot in the corner of the room. These were better taken care of than some of the other plants, which grew wild branches or sprouted in odd spots.


    ¡°What are the flowers for?¡± she asked. Claire looked up, glanced at the flowers, and looked a little sad.


    ¡°They¡¯re not for anything medical,¡± she said quietly.


    ¡°Then why keep them?¡±


    Claire watched the flowers for a few moments, something distant in her gaze. ¡°My job involves a lot of bloodshed,¡± she said, voice still quiet. ¡°Not everyone is lucky like you. I¡¯ve had to tell parents of a child¡¯s death. I¡¯ve watched children lose both their parents. I¡¯ve watched people say their final goodbyes.¡± Lightning snapped near the window, and wind buffeted the frame. ¡°One of the first things they teach you,¡± Claire continued, ¡°is that you can¡¯t save everyone. It¡¯s still a hard lesson to learn, even now.


    ¡°I find that even if those flowers do nothing to save a life, I like to keep them around, anyway. Maybe they¡¯ll give me courage when I feel like giving in to despair. Maybe they¡¯ll help my patients see a brighter day. I keep them because they remind me of more beautiful times, Kess.¡±


    Claire turned back to her work, her face slightly pink. Perhaps she wasn¡¯t used to such emotional outbursts. She¡¯d obviously been wrong about Claire; Claire was more similar to Kess than she¡¯d imagined. Maybe that¡¯s why she¡¯d found it so hard to get along with the woman at first¡ªbesides her own prejudices.


    ¡°Claire, I¡ª¡°


    Claire waved her off. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize to me again. Apologies are just words.¡± She looked up and met Kess¡¯s eyes. ¡°If you¡¯re truly sorry, then be better.¡±


    Kess swallowed and looked away again. Be better. She¡¯d been running and hiding for so long she wasn¡¯t entirely sure it was possible. How could she undo a lifetime of prejudice? How could she learn to trust herself when her poor judgment had caused the deaths of so many close to her? How could she ultimately become Fulminant without losing herself in the process? It was something she¡¯d have to figure out the hard way.

 Chapter 40: Ash on the Breeze

    This was by far the creepiest thing Rowan had ever done. He crept into Claire¡¯s ward, the place silent and dark but for Kess, sound asleep in one of the beds. He felt a little bad disturbing her, but with Claire¡¯s odd sleeping schedule, there was no other choice.


    He crept over to Kess¡¯s bed and gently shook her awake. She jumped at him in the dark, then blinked blearily when she recognized him.


    ¡°Rowan,¡± she whispered, but Rowan just shook his head and jerked it towards the door. Kess sat up, but when she went to put weight on her legs, she leaned heavily on the side of the bed, a wince on her face. Even in the dark, Rowan could see the color on her cheeks. Kess hated help, but she would have to endure it for a little longer¡ªClaire had warned Rowan that it might be weeks before she was back to normal again.


    Rowan scooped her up and carried her from the ward without a word. When they were out in the dim hallway, Kess spoke, her voice hushed.


    ¡°When you said you had a surprise for me tonight, I didn¡¯t think it meant being kidnapped from a sound sleep,¡± she groused. She put one of her arms around his shoulder, and though Rowan¡¯s only intent was to make her more comfortable, he found himself enjoying the experience all the same.


    ¡°Are you complaining?¡± he asked. ¡°I can bring you back.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said immediately. ¡°But unless you¡¯re planning on camping outside my room, Claire¡¯s not going to let you get away with this.¡±


    Rowan began climbing the stairs, enjoying the closeness of Kess next to him. I thought she was gone. To think she was this close to¡ªHe shook his head. There was no point in worrying about what could have been.


    ¡°I¡¯ll work out something with Claire,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve been dealing with her for quite some time. The trick is to make her think she¡¯s gotten what she wants. You just have to convince her that what you want and what she wants are the same thing.¡± Kess frowned from his arms.


    ¡°That sounds confusing.¡±


    ¡°Claire and confusing go together like clouds and storms.¡±


    ¡°Or like me and a real meal,¡± Kess muttered as he turned another corner, headed to her rooms. ¡°She ate an entire pile of Eamon¡¯s stuffed buns in front of me. She¡¯s a sadist.¡± He shook his head, smiling.


    ¡°Do you ever stop thinking about food?¡±


    ¡°Rowan, the woman won¡¯t let me eat anything real. How am I supposed to recover on a steady diet of broth?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll never eat broth again, on my honor as a man,¡± he said, smiling again. Clouds, she was alive.


    ¡°Fanas bless you, Rowan,¡± Kess said, and kissed him on the cheek. Rowan tried to hide the look of shock from his face, though he had a hard time pretending he didn¡¯t enjoy it. Still¡ª


    ¡°Kess, Fanas is the Seat of chaos¡ªthe Ashfall itself.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± she said matter-of-factly. ¡°Who better to ask to watch over someone? The other Seats are too straight-laced for that kind of thing. Normal folk need someone a bit twisted to watch over them. Though...¡± She trailed off, studying his face as he approached the door to her rooms. ¡°You¡¯re a good sort. Maybe Mariel or Faleas would be better to invoke.¡±


    Rowan laughed and opened the door to Kess¡¯s room. A hearth crackled merrily there, and Rowan had taken the liberty of having a few tables moved closer to her bedside. He¡¯d even left a stack of books there¡ªincluding the silly one he¡¯d caught her reading once before Draven¡¯s death. He deposited Kess gently on the bed, where he¡¯d left extra pillows and blankets, and stepped back, looking around the room. It felt homey enough.


    Kess¡¯s eyes tracked around the dim room to all the little changes, and she began shaking her head, tears forming in her eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s not much,¡± Rowan said, looking around. ¡°But I wanted it to feel a little more accommodating.¡± He ruffled the hair on the back of his head, a little embarrassed. Was it too much? ¡°I¡¯m behind on a lot of supply paperwork for Arlette. I can work on it here tomorrow if you¡¯d like company,¡± he said, though he had a hard time looking at Kess as he said it.


    A log snapped in the fire, and he glanced at Kess finally. Tears tracked down her face as she met his eyes, her own full of grief and sorrow, but also of something else¡ªgratitude.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I¡¯d like that very much,¡± she said, nearly choking on the words. Then she pushed herself to her feet and wrapped her arms around Rowan in a fierce hug, most of her weight resting on him as he awkwardly held her up.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Kess,¡± Rowan finally said.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to apologize for,¡± she said into his shoulder. ¡°I can¡¯t be sorry anymore, either. I have to be better." He felt her grip tighten on the back of his shirt. ¡°I will be better.¡±


    And as Rowan held Kess, broken and sobbing against him, clouds, he really believed that she would.


    Days later, Kess made the trip through the tunnels to bury Draven, leaning heavily on Rowan with Claire nearby. Claire had, despite Rowan¡¯s rescue attempt, continued to be a constant companion for Kess throughout the healing process, though at least Kess was allowed to remain in her own rooms. Claire said it was due to the severity of the burnout, but an increasingly grumpy Kess wondered if it was just something the other woman made up to keep Kess around.


    Kess supposed she should be grateful for the company as the small group of them¡ªincluding a few guards towing Draven¡¯s body¡ªpicked their way through the rocky, dark path along the side of the mountain, but it also seemed too personal to bury the man with a crowd of onlookers.


    Still, Kess was determined that he receive a proper burial, and with no family of his own left, Kess was the only one who could be there for him. So she would do that, audience or no.


    The cliffside clearing Rowan led them to was tucked away in an alcove overlooking the lake to the Northwest of Hillcrest. Kess had left the city maybe twice in her life, and never very far from home. Like most citizens of Hillcrest, her family found the trek too dangerous to make very often. Money, at least, could buy you a guide who would lead you along the safer routes. Once had been for a day with her family at this very lake, although far from the shallow pit where the guards set down Draven¡¯s body.


    Most people buried their dead in this way¡ªset in a shallow hole with rocks adorning the top of the body until the remains could no longer be seen. Rocks were plentiful in the hills, and the dry weather meant that the remains were mostly left in peace.


    With Draven in place, the guards and Claire all went to gather rocks, but she cleared her throat and shook her head, still leaning heavily against Rowan. ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± she said quietly.


    Claire and Rowan exchanged a glance, but eventually Claire let out a deep sigh and walked past Kess to a nearby boulder, silent argument lost. She broke free from Rowan and began to gather.


    The work was arduous for Kess, as close as she¡¯d come to joining Draven in the ground, but she pushed through the pain, the breathlessness, and the shakiness in her limbs, covering her friend slowly from head to toe. With every rock she thought of some joke Drav made, or a bowl of stew he gave her when times got too hard. She remembered nights when even Oliver had been no comfort to her¡ªjust one more responsibility for a woman who already had too much to bear. Draven had shouldered some of that for her, and made it okay to just be herself. With him gone, that responsibility settled on her shoulders alongside the weight of his death, a hulking giant that made it hard to breathe or think.


    She didn¡¯t tell Rowan or Claire that her own actions had caused this¡ªthat coming Downhill, sheltering here, and befriending Drav were just as much a cause of his death as anything he might have done to attract attention. So the gathering was penance too, for a mistake she would never forgive herself for as long as she lived.


    As she caught Rowan and even Claire watching her as she passed, she wondered if she wasn¡¯t making the same mistake again.


    Last rock placed, Kess fell to her knees in the rocky soil, staring at the mound that had once been her friend and father.


    Draven¡¯s ring sat in her left hand alongside Oliver¡¯s Stormclap pin, the metal cool against her feverish skin. A storm brewed overhead¡ªone of the last of Lightstorm season¡ªand she heard Drav¡¯s words again, as clear as the day he had spoken them to her.


    When that storm washes away everything, don¡¯t let it take away who you are.


    Kess bowed her head, picking up another rock in her other hand. Who was she? Fulminant? Not? A child of the upper city, the lower city, or both? If the Fulminant did this to Draven, how could she call herself one of their own?


    As for the storm, had Draven known of his impending death? Had he made peace with whatever he was doing for Forgebrand, knowing that it might ultimately lead to his capture and death? Regardless, she would never know now.


    The Stormclap pin glittered in her other hand. She¡¯d hidden Downhill to avoid bringing her problems to anyone else, but somehow she¡¯d gotten people involved in them, anyway. Kess looked up from the grave and found the Uphill looming over the city, visible easily from the similar hill they sat on. Shrouded in clouds that glowed a violent blue against the horizon, Kess felt that it was a specter she couldn¡¯t escape. Her past would follow her until she dealt with it¡ªof that, she was increasingly certain. She gripped the ring and pin in her hand so tightly that her bones groaned from the stress.


    She had failed Oliver.


    She had failed Draven.


    She had failed herself, and maybe more than that; her promise to herself¡ªborn out of a desperate desire to survive¡ªhad left her with no weapons to protect those she loved. Nothing had changed since that night so many years ago. Perhaps she¡¯d been foolish in toying with her powers recently, but the other option¡ªto leave them languishing and useless¡ªno longer seemed right either.


    Kess placed the last rock on the center of the pile and felt the wind cool the tears that she hadn¡¯t realized decorated her cheeks. Tonight, she would make a new promise. Tonight, exhausted, heartbroken, she would learn not to fear her powers, and become what she had to.


    There was only one path for Kess to take now¡ªthe only one with answers, and perhaps vengeance for those lost. She would go Uphill, to where it all began.


    It was all she had left.


    As if in reply, thunder rumbled overhead, and the first rain of the Floodstorm began.

 Chapter 41: Nothings Scarier Than Politics

    Rowan found himself persistently nervous the night of the first gala. He¡¯d tried everything¡ªsparring with Arlette and Eamon until he could barely lift his arms, organizing the kitchen, and even running inventory of several warehouses that Eamon was worried about.


    None of it had helped.


    His family had pointedly ignored his letters about his return Uphill, and Rowan found himself slightly terrified at the prospect of seeing his father again. That was to say nothing of his work with Grandbow; the man pushed for expansions by the day, and Rowan hoped for better luck in person than through strongly worded letters. And, while he was at it, he hoped to find some way into the Archives.


    A bigger source of Rowan¡¯s nervousness, however, was Kess herself. He straightened his jacket in the mirror, frowning at the way his curls refused to lie flat. He supposed he should have cut his hair shorter, but he liked to run his hands through it when he thought¡ªa nervous habit his father had never broken him of.


    He rehearsed his words several times in his head and finally opened the door to the hallway. Kess¡¯s small form leaned against the wall near his door, and her dark curls shifted slightly as she looked up at him with a wry smile, her dress a sparkling maroon and navy that hugged her figure in places that made Rowan forget every argument he¡¯d ever had with her.


    ¡°You clean up nicely,¡± she said, tugging at his jacket fondly. Heat crept into his face, along with confusion. Kess had been friendly with him during her weeks of recovery, an odd change from the thinly veiled barbs of months ago. Rowan wasn¡¯t sure where that left them now. Though her insults were gone, occasionally she would slip into a chilly reverie, her eyes distant and unfocused. The contrast was so stark that Rowan wondered if two halves of the woman warred within. He tried to smile back.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got me beat though,¡± he said, and meant it. ¡°You look better. How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said, eyes growing distant again. Her face was still pale, and some of the weight of health was gone from her cheeks. Rowan saw how she picked at her food, and the weeks back at training¡ªhowever light¡ªhadn¡¯t done her any favors. She was a woman running on too little, and Rowan found it hard to ask too much of her these days. They¡¯d delayed their trip Uphill longer than either of them had intended¡ªmostly due to some continued instability with Kess¡¯s Fulminancy as it returned. Some of that instability had faded with a few weeks of hard work on her part, but Rowan still caught a tress or two of it creeping along her arm on occasion.


    ¡°Claire gave me the go ahead for full training,¡± she said, looking at the wall. Rowan frowned, watching her.


    ¡°Kess, you¡¯ve been sneaking back into the warehouse for weeks now.¡±


    ¡°And now I don¡¯t have to sneak,¡± she replied, a twinkle in her eye. Rowan sighed, but it was good to see some color in her cheeks again. Maybe she could handle what he was about to ask. He heaved a breath and reached into his jacket, fishing for the piece of cloth.


    ¡°I need you to do something for me, and you¡¯re not going to like it.¡±


    ¡°That seems to be a pattern with you, Rowan.¡± He ran his fingers through his hair with his other hand, avoiding her eyes.


    ¡°A bad habit, I suppose.¡±


    He pulled a sash from his jacket¡ªred and blue, the sash of a master Fulminancer. Kess¡¯s face went sheet white. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had no other choice.


    ¡°We¡¯ve avoided court for too long,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve lost some of the clout I had with Grandbow¡¯s people, particularly by delaying for so long. Tonight we need to make a statement¡ªand not one of weakness. If we show up wearing white sashes for modesty, we¡¯ll just be ignored. But if we show up with this¡ª¡°


    ¡°They¡¯ll have no choice but to pay attention,¡± Kess said grimly. She frowned, studying the wall again. ¡°We could use my family colors,¡± she said quietly. He watched her for a moment, the fabric soft in his hands.


    ¡°As secretive as you¡¯ve been, I doubt you want us parading about your family colors at every Uphill party.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a better option than that,¡± she said, gesturing to the sash with distaste.


    ¡°Wear your family colors if you wish or if you think it¡¯ll give us an advantage, but unless you¡¯re a black sash, being Fulminant will help us more.¡±


    Kess stared at the sash in his hands for a long moment, something distant in her gaze. With the training sessions they¡¯d had since her recovery, Rowan knew something had changed. The fear was still there, yes, and the hesitance, but over it all, a veneer of resignation, determination, and reluctant acceptance. Maybe Kess would always fight her Fulminancy, but now she was doing it on her own terms, like a fighter determined to learn their opponent inside and out. Which wasn¡¯t a bad analogy given Kess¡¯s past occupation.


    ¡°So you want us to march into the Uphill with two falsified sashes,¡± Kess finally said, gesturing at his own black sash around his waist. ¡°They¡¯ll verify them and we¡¯ll be caught.¡±


    ¡°One falsified sash,¡± Rowan corrected. Kess looked at his black sash, a note of shock on her face. She let out a nearly inaudible ¡®oh¡¯. Rowan tried not to fidget. He¡¯d always hated the reaction a black sash got him, but there were some advantages to being highborn.


    ¡°In any case, Arlette did some work for us with her contacts,¡± he said. ¡°Plenty of gamblers frequent these galas, and many of them benefit from the odds Arlette puts out each week to a select group of clients. Those clients have been fed information about the woman I¡¯m courting for the weeks you were out of commission.


    ¡°This woman,¡± Rowan continued, feeling his face grow warm as Kess gave him a little knowing smile, ¡°has a significant background in running fighting rings around the city¡ªboth Fulminant and not¡ªwhich shouldn¡¯t be a hard persona for you to adopt.¡±


    ¡°And this woman,¡± Kess said, staring at the sash doubtfully, ¡°just happens to be Fulminant?¡±


    ¡°Being Fulminant is respected Uphill,¡± Rowan replied, ¡°but it¡¯s not as rare as it is down here.¡± Granted, he thought. She probably knows that anyway. Still, it didn¡¯t hurt to remind her. ¡°We¡¯ll be a lot freer to move around and make contacts Uphill if you¡¯re part of Fulminant circles,¡± Rowan added. Something soured in Kess¡¯s gaze as she fiddled with a tiny item in her hands¡ªa Stormclap pin, Rowan realized. Something hardened in her gaze, and her mouth took on the stubborn set he was coming to associate with her doing something she found frustrating or distasteful. She pushed off the wall and stood up straight.


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Do it,¡± she said, voice resigned. Rowan held up the sash again.


    ¡°Do you want me to¡ª¡° She nodded and turned around for him to tie the sash. Rowan untied her white sash and instead looped the shining blue and red material around her waist, keenly aware of how close she was. They were this close when they trained, but somehow this was more intimate. He could smell her perfume and his fingers brushed past soft waves of curls that had been left out of the ties to rest over her bare back as he gently tied the sash around her waist, using the same knot that men used to tie their sashes at the side.


    Finished, he hesitantly placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her towards him, but she didn¡¯t shy away. Something strange appeared in her gaze¡ªsomething different from the distance when she remembered Draven or the fire when she tackled a problem. ¡°Thank you,¡± Rowan said. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll make it worth your while.¡±


    Kess shook her head, that strange look still on her face. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to thank me for,¡± she said, her voice quiet. ¡°This is what I am, after all.¡±


    Fulminant. Something settled in Rowan¡¯s gut. Before, where jealousy had been, a small spark of admiration took its place. Perhaps Kess¡¯s powers were more of a curse than Rowan had originally believed, but that made her determination to accept and learn them that much more impressive.


    They stood like that for several moments, something quiet and private passing between them, and the distance seemed to grow smaller. Familiar shouting down the hallway shattered the moment like glass.


    ¡°If you two don¡¯t haul your asses into that carriage, I¡¯m going to do it for you!¡± Rowan felt more than saw Kess jump and knew that he had done the same. Kess¡¯s face flushed, but she laughed, the first time Rowan had seen it from her in a month. She looped her arm around Rowan¡¯s and nodded towards the staircase.


    ¡°If we don¡¯t get going, I imagine Arlette¡¯s going to make our other problems seem a lot smaller,¡± she said, eyes twinkling. Rowan smiled again and led them down the hallway.


    ¡°Agreed.¡±


    Kess sat in the carriage with Rowan, listening to large, fat droplets as they slapped the carriage rooftop overhead. The beginning of Floodstorm season meant endless rain that other seasons only threatened, and the amber lights of the city did little to chase away the gloom.


    Still, the last few weeks in the manor hadn¡¯t been unpleasant. It was the warmest and driest Kess had been since her first Floodstorm season Downhill, and while Draven¡¯s death and her worry for Oliver still hung over her like a shadow, the slower pace of manor life had been better for Kess than she wanted to admit.


    Rowan had downright doted over her, which was an odd change in the man. Kess had always thought he seemed gruff and humorless, but she was beginning to realize that his quiet strength hid a man underneath that truly cared¡ªlights notwithstanding.


    Rowan sat next to her, his leg warm against hers as he looked out at the gloom on his side of the carriage. What had changed? Months ago, it seemed he was unable to stand the sight of her. And yet, something had shifted in his attitude towards her. Perhaps her near death had simply softened him, but Kess had felt genuine happiness from the man when in her company. You don¡¯t mind him either now, a tiny voice in her head reminded her.


    That much was true; he was quiet but thoughtful, and while Claire had nearly driven Kess mad, Rowan was careful to let her have just enough independence to feel like herself again. And he had kept his promise about the food. How could she hate a man who fed her well? He was a bit of a hypocrite with his exploding lights, but Kess had watched him work tirelessly to find a solution to those¡ªindeed, tonight¡¯s primary objective revolved around getting the resources to solve Rowan¡¯s problem, though Kess had her own problem to focus on.


    She turned the Stormclap pin in her hands. She¡¯d kept it with her since that night, alongside the original one from her home. Why had the Councilman had it? Perhaps it was simply a coincidence. Maybe the Stormclap board maker didn¡¯t make every board unique. It didn¡¯t seem like a coincidence to her, but Kess intended to find out, one way or another. Galas were filled with connected people¡ªand more importantly, Stormclap enthusiasts. Perhaps this craftsman would know more about the man who¡¯d attacked her, or perhaps he would have a lead on Oliver.


    ¡°Do you remember our targets for tonight?¡± Rowan asked, startling her out of her thoughts. She wrinkled her nose, propping up her slippered feet on the bench across from them. If Rowan noticed the extra bit of skin she showed, he said nothing.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not.¡±


    ¡°Kess¡ª¡°


    She sighed, leaning her head back against the carriage wall. ¡°Fine. You¡¯re going to meet with Furion under the guise of looking for Fulminant fighters for the ring I supposedly bet on. Meanwhile, I¡¯ll meet with his date Reina, assuming she¡¯s not already in a brothel from her dealings with Furion.¡±


    Furion was a man Kess unfortunately remembered from years ago. She¡¯d never had the misfortune of dealing with him, but word traveled; the man dealt in flesh, and that was probably the least objectionable thing about him. There were other rumors¡ªrumors Kess didn¡¯t even want to give thought to.


    ¡°Why are you really meeting with him?¡± she asked as the carriage jostled them both. ¡°If your reputation is already this bad, dealing with Furion won¡¯t help.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because my reputation is bad that I need to deal with him at all. He¡¯s not well liked, but he does have connections, and there are rumors he even deals with the Council occasionally.¡±


    Kess¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°Regardless,¡± Rowan continued, ¡°he has a reputation for¡­provoking Fulminant women, which is why I¡¯d rather us split up tonight. If he seems like he won¡¯t get under your skin too much, we¡¯ll tackle him together next time.¡±


    Kess snorted, watching Rowan with a sideways glance. It would be hard for anything to blossom between them¡ªafter all, Rowan loved Fulminancy, and while Kess now tolerated it for the sake of her promise to Draven, using it was a bitter task that she still abhorred.


    ¡°Like you know what gets under my skin,¡± she finally muttered. Rowan raised an eyebrow, but kept his gaze carefully fixed on the wall in front of them.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting better at it, though,¡± he said. Unfortunately, it was Rowan himself who got under her skin lately, and not always in a negative way. Something strange had happened when he tied her sash¡ªsomething that Kess wanted to both run away from and towards at the same time. She took a deep breath, happy that some of her physical fitness was returning, at least. Attachment had never served her well, and wouldn¡¯t here either. She had to keep her eyes on Oliver and off of Rowan, or she might be too late again.


    ¡°We¡¯re still new to the court,¡± Rowan went on, pointedly ignoring Kess¡¯s pink face. ¡°People don¡¯t trust us, and we were missing for too long. But a woman who invests in fighting rings¡ªparticularly those that tout girls¡ªthat woman might have a more acceptable reason to talk to Furion than most would. It shouldn¡¯t be as damaging to our reputation as it would otherwise. Your history in that industry certainly helps our credibility as well.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m about as credible as Mariel¡¯s left¡ª¡°


    Kess was cut off as the carriage lurched forward, and she would have slammed into the wall across from them if Rowan¡¯s arm hadn¡¯t come forward in time. ¡°Don¡¯t finish that statement,¡± he said, a wry smile on his face. He peeked out the side of the carriage window, letting his hand fall to Kess¡¯s thigh where it stayed. Warmth flooded into her cheeks, but she did little to remove his hand. These galas are going to be the death of me, she thought as Rowan shouted something at the driver.


    ¡°Horse was spooked,¡± he said, closing the window and trying to dislodge some of the rain from his curls with the hand he¡¯d left on Kess¡¯s leg.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I blame it,¡± she said as the storm came down heavier than before, a rhythmic drumbeat against the roof. ¡°Nothing¡¯s scarier than politics.¡±

 Chapter 42: Success and Opportunity

    The evening¡¯s festivities were held at Lord Gilbert¡¯s mansion, and Kess had to admit the man¡¯s accommodations were practically made for the rainy season. Carriages pulled up to a covered terrace where raised stones kept water away, and guests entered impressive manor doors without encountering the raging storm outside.


    Inside, wooden cathedral ceilings were decorated with thousands of tiny amber lights, and the logistics of having to light each globe made Kess¡¯s head spin. Thick sheets of rain, oppressive outside, felt cozy against the roof far overhead, a dull drone that hushed away the lull of conversation. The rectangular main hall where most patrons held court was brighter than the adjoining rooms, where lights were dimmed and patrons could watch rain hitting the panes while having dinner, playing Stormclap, or conversing in smaller groups.


    Rowan¡¯s presence was a comforting warmth by her side, and Kess¡ªoddly¡ªfelt confident. Her powers had nearly killed her that night, but perhaps that brush with death had given her less to fear. She wore the blue and red sash with mock confidence, her head held high and her shoulders back. She imagined the confidence that would come from years of training and honing her powers¡ªthe assuredness that would come from a life without the worry that everything could be taken from you. And indeed, if she worked to hone these powers, it might be hers to grasp.


    There was still the minor problem that she wanted nothing to do with her Fulminancy, or anyone else¡¯s, for that matter. But she would learn to control it for Draven¡¯s sake¡ªand for Oliver¡¯s.


    ¡°There¡¯s Furion,¡± Rowan said beside her. The man was on the far right side of the room near the fireplace, his thin wisps of hair a faint reminder of what had once been there years ago. He chatted animatedly with Lord Sandulf¡ªa man Kess knew was fond of war, who believed that man¡¯s oldest vice could solve just about any woe. His muscled bulk made Furion look small.


    Rowan smiled at her and took her hand, kissing it while he looked up at her. She met his eyes and felt the pit of her stomach drop away. ¡°Try not to get into too much trouble,¡± he said, eyes dancing. Kess put on a mask of mock surprise to hide her blush.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what would give you such a preposterous idea.¡± The smile spread to Rowan¡¯s eyes, and he let go of her hand and walked away, a lilt in his step that Kess wondered at. Did he believe their gala flirting was real? It was a part they both played, but well, maybe she was falling for it as well. It didn¡¯t help that the weeks they¡¯d spent together had been so clouding pleasant.


    Frowning at her impending headache, Kess eyed the Stormclap boards sparkling in a dimly lit room to the side. She felt some of her confidence evaporate at the sight of the flashing Fulminancy within.


    It was true that the weeks spent recovering had improved her Fulminancy. Working with so little of it had been a good stepping stone to dealing with the larger quantities Kess usually found herself with. Even now, she felt significantly less of it churning inside. It was possible she would have the control for a game of Stormclap¡ªbut did she really need to play at all?


    Yes, she realized. If she didn¡¯t play, she would be noticeable. People would wonder why she didn¡¯t partake in such a beloved game. And tonight, Kess wanted information¡ªinformation that would be much easier to gather through the distraction of a Stormclap game. Not to mention, her questions about the craftsman behind her pin would seem odd if she wasn¡¯t a fan of the game itself. No, she would have to figure out a way to play, one way or another.


    Kess hesitated for a moment, then strode to the bar and returned to her oldest vice. She was grateful for once for the relatively low strength of the alcohol. She¡¯d always been more than capable of holding her liquor, but there was still a nagging sense of illness and weakness at the edge of her perception, like a bone that had only just knitted together, or a wound as it pulled and twisted beneath the healed surface.


    Kess sipped at her drink slowly, then forced herself towards the Stormclap room, her steps mechanical. It was set in an alcove off the side of the main ballroom, through an arch inset with multiple Fulminancy-filled globes¡ªRowan¡¯s globes. Kess tried not to stare as she remembered the heat of that explosion months ago in Rowan¡¯s workshop. For his sake, I hope they don¡¯t blow at one of these, she thought.


    The room itself was dimly lit, not with Fulminancy, but with soft lanterns propped up at each table to give players soft light. Rain streamed down the far windows that made up the back half of the room, and the flash of both Fulminancy and lightning periodically lit the room more brightly than the provided lanterns.


    Most boards were occupied with players, bent with concentration, their scrunched faces illuminated by Fulminancy as it flashed around the boards. A few tables towards the back contained a gaggle of Fulminant women who mostly gossiped rather than played. Kess almost joined them, but paused in the doorway, unsure.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    After a moment of hesitation, Kess found a much better prospect and trailed through the room towards a series of increasingly nicer Stormclap boards. Several men gathered around a few of them, comparing pins or board layouts, though no boards bore resemblance to Oliver¡¯s.


    A few men actually played, though they took a moment to spare Kess a doubtful glance as she passed them. Kess, fortunately, found a more willing participant in a far alcove of the room near the windows, fortuitously sitting at a board that seemed familiar to Kess.


    A woman sat there, though she simply stared out of the window, alone, a glass of wine in hand. Her hair was so blond as to be almost white, and her eyes an odd turquoise as she watched the storm. Kess couldn¡¯t quite believe her fortune as she made her way over to the woman. If descriptions were right, then this would be¡ª


    The woman looked up from the window, noticing Kess, then smiled at her and motioned. Kess joined the woman, sitting nervously as her heart fluttered at the sight of the board. It wasn¡¯t quite the same as hers, but it was eerily similar¡ªsurely by the same maker. She looked up at the other woman and tried to smile.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard much about you, Lady Reina, but I never took you for much of a Stormclap fan,¡± Kess said carefully. She¡¯d at least had plenty of time to brush up on her knowledge of court, though she¡¯d spent little to no time there in her youth. Her time after Draven¡¯s death hadn¡¯t been a complete waste, at least. She would have had a difficult time navigating court with next to no knowledge of its players.


    Reina smiled impishly at her.


    ¡°My date, unfortunately, is rather boorish and uninteresting,¡± she said conspiratorially. She leaned forward as she spoke, though the surrounding tables were unoccupied. ¡°Not all of us are as lucky as you are.¡± She gestured towards where Rowan spoke with a man Kess was fairly certain was the Grandbow of his letters and sponsorship. ¡°He¡¯s quite the catch.¡±


    ¡°Most of Uphill disagrees,¡± Kess replied, though she felt a little guilty admitting it. ¡°He has, after all, been disowned.¡±


    Reina waved at her dismissively. ¡°The Uphill disowns people more often than they throw parties,¡± she said. ¡°At this point, it would be better for them to just admit that they throw out anyone with talent or a penchant for real change in Hillcrest.¡± She paused, then turned to survey Kess again as Kess fought to keep her face straight. ¡°But he¡¯s not really why you¡¯re here, is he?¡± Kess felt a prick of nervousness run up her arm¡ªor perhaps it was Fulminancy. ¡°You¡¯re here for something else, or you wouldn¡¯t have cornered me alone at a Stormclap board.¡±


    ¡°In fairness, you were sitting here first.¡±


    ¡°Well, I always say that success is where opportunity meets a well-positioned woman.¡±


    ¡°I find this particular Stormclap craftsman to be fascinating,¡± Kess said, running fingers alongside the board, avoiding Reina¡¯s eyes. ¡°But¡­perhaps I simply wanted a game.¡±


    Reina regarded her for a moment, her odd eyes careful. ¡°Is that all? Well, I can certainly oblige you, though I must warn you that boredom has made me quite the player. I sit alone over here because most of the room knows better than to play me.¡±


    Kess immediately cursed her suggestion. Politics was never my forte, she thought desperately, glancing at Rowan across the room. He seemed relaxed, at least. She returned her eyes to the board, feeling slightly nauseated. Still, she thought. If I can get Reina playing, then maybe she¡¯ll keep talking. It was one of the many strategies for gathering information at court. People were often unwilling to part with information or gossip out in the ballroom, but in the quiet, intimate setting of the Stormclap alcove, with the distraction of the game, they¡¯d often let more slip. And well, Kess did understand the strategy of Stormclap, even if she wasn¡¯t sure she could handle the Fulminancy of it.


    Kess took a deep, steadying breath that she hoped Reina didn¡¯t notice, then drew out a tendril of Fulminancy, letting it fly into the board.


    ¡°Let¡¯s play,¡± she agreed. Reina smiled and let a tendril of her own Fulminancy¡ªa shade of gray¡ªsnake into the board, lighting the pieces and snapping lines of lightning around the board.


    ¡°How does a friendly wager sound to you?¡± she asked, eyes twinkling. ¡°I win, I get to know why you¡¯re really here. You win, and you can ask me anything you wish¡ªthough I might know something about this board¡¯s craftsman, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re interested in. You won¡¯t find him here tonight,¡± she added, as Kess looked behind her at the group of men. ¡°But without you winning a game, I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s all I can tell you.¡±


    Kess frowned, turning back to Reina. ¡°Your request is a little more specific.¡±


    ¡°A stipulation that works out in your favor, the way I see it,¡± she said, moving a few pins into the correct spots.


    Kess was no fool. She knew Reina would receive information, regardless. Whatever Kess asked would give her a wealth of knowledge she hadn¡¯t had before, even if Kess was careful with her wording. Still, it wasn¡¯t a bad bet, and the game would get the woman talking¡ªa fair goal for Rowan¡¯s situation with Furion as well as Kess¡¯s own search for answers.


    Kess took another deep breath, and, trying to hide the shaking in her hands, brightened a piece with her Fulminancy. It held, but it took more out of her than she¡¯d anticipated. A single bead of sweat rolled down her back.


    I hope Rowan has better luck than me, she thought, and moved a piece.


    ¡°I¡¯m in.¡±

 Chapter 43: Not Part of the Plan

    I¡¯m fairly certain that wasn¡¯t part of our plan, Kess, Rowan thought, trying to hide his irritation from Grandbow as the man ran through a litany of complaints about his current clients¡ªexcluding Rowan, of course. Rowan had become somewhat of a golden child for Grandbow, it seemed, and if anything, his absence at court had allowed Grandbow to build a reputation Rowan both feared and appreciated.


    ¡°Do you know how excited Lord Gilbert was to have your lights over the Stormclap room?¡± Cashin said, gesturing at the arch. He beamed at Rowan as he spoke, and clapped an arm around his shoulders, which drew a few irritated gazes from other Uphill inventors vying for the man¡¯s attention. ¡°They¡¯re truly brilliant, Northmont, and with the right Fulminant nature, they become something beautiful, don¡¯t you think? For those particular ones, Lord Gilbert requested Fulminancy with little to no color, and I think that might be the future. Bright, clean light that matches with just about everything. It¡¯s exactly how I imagine sunlight.¡±


    Rowan smiled a little as he looked at the lights. They did look beautiful, particularly without colored Fulminancy. It¡¯s nice to be appreciated, he thought, but some of his good cheer faded as he stared a little too long at the lights¡ªand then at Kess, perched just beyond them, deeply involved in a Stormclap game she probably shouldn¡¯t be. From a distance, it seemed she was holding her own¡ªor at least not blowing the place to bits. Still, he needed to be quick with his own tasks in case she¡¯d overestimated her own stamina and control. At least Grandbow seemed amenable to the idea of slowing the spread of his lights¡ªfor now.


    He turned to make excuses to Grandbow and find Furion instead¡ªwho¡¯d eluded him most of the night in a frustrating game of tag¡ªwhen Grandbow spoke again, half muttering to himself.


    ¡°It was impossible to avoid,¡± he mumbled quietly, staring at those lights, his good cheer fading. ¡°A risk and reward scenario for certain, and one that I find¡ª¡° He stopped himself, sighed, and looked at Rowan again, regret in his eyes. ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive me, boy. They were just so clouding incredible that I couldn¡¯t help it.¡±


    ¡°Help what, Cashin?¡± Rowan asked, suddenly alarmed.


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, avoiding Rowan¡¯s eyes. ¡°It was kind of you to suggest a more profitable light, but people have been clamoring for these things¡ªeven in their current state. They¡¯re dim and half of them oddly colored, but even with sky-high prices, I sell far more than I can keep stock of. I¡¯ve looked into expanding and¡ª¡°


    ¡°We discussed this via letter,¡± Rowan said carefully. ¡°You agreed not to expand until I provided a new prototype.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well¡­¡± Grandbow trailed off, looking uncomfortable. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve sold out to most Uphill commercial areas already. Every ball or gala this season will feature some of your lights. Think of it like a trial run to get your prototype into the world. The best kind of publicity is visual, after all.¡±


    Rowan felt the blood drain from his face. Uphill was bad enough, but¡ª¡°Where else did you sell them to?¡±


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Residential areas, my boy.¡± There was some embarrassment in the man¡¯s expression, but also a sort of religious fervor¡ªas if he could see the gold minings he¡¯d make with the lights already. ¡°They¡¯re functional, fashionable, and most importantly, profitable¡ªeven in their current state. And just imagine when you deliver the second half of that promise! We¡¯ll be selling so fast your next task will be to make them faster and¡ª¡°


    ¡°No, Cashin.¡±


    The man froze, mid sentence.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Rowan made a split second decision and pulled the man aside, away from prying ears. It was nearly impossible not to be overheard at a gala, but the room was large enough that Rowan was mostly certain he was far enough away from either servants or other attendants to be heard. He leaned towards Cashin and spoke quickly and quietly, regretting every word.


    ¡°We can¡¯t expand,¡± he whispered. ¡°Not yet. Listen, I mention this strictly because of our partnership, but they¡¯re not safe enough for homes yet¡ªlet alone commercial venues, but at least those leave more room in case of an accident.¡±


    ¡°Accident?¡± Grandbow repeated. ¡°What kind of accident?¡±


    ¡°The same kind your parlors had,¡± Rowan replied, keeping his voice low. ¡°I was hoping to find a way to fix the problem entirely before bringing it up to you, but I¡¯m afraid my endeavors have been¡­slower than anticipated.¡±


    Cashin paled a little, and Rowan was certain his business partnership was finished. Instead, the man ran a hand through his hair and seemed thoughtful.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s certainly not ideal¡ªnor is the idea that you¡¯ve been withholding information from me¡ªbut I understand your motivations to a certain degree. Are you at least working on a solution?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Rowan replied quickly. ¡°As quickly as possible. It¡¯s possible I can fix them with some further research in the Archives.¡±


    Cashin laughed. ¡°The Archives?¡± he asked, sounding amused. ¡°Well, not even I can get you in there. You could try¡ª¡°


    ¡°Furion.¡±


    The man nodded, a note of distaste on his face. ¡°He¡¯ll make a deal with just about anyone¡ªeven you. I¡¯ve been working on your image while you¡¯ve been gone, boy, and let me tell you¡ªit hasn¡¯t been easy. You might find your station somewhat improved Uphill, but not if your father has anything to say about it. Furion is well connected, though. You have a shrewd mind for politics¡ªthough you¡¯re much too honest for it.¡±


    ¡°I wish that were so,¡± Rowan murmured. From a distance, he saw Fulminancy flare from Kess¡¯s Stormclap board and hoped his problems wouldn¡¯t be multiplying soon. ¡°Cashin, we can¡¯t say anything about this¡ªnot even to your investors, or the Council.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± he replied grimly. ¡°Frankly, I¡¯ve had quite enough of the Council¡¯s dealings in my business.¡± He turned serious eyes back to Rowan. ¡°Unfortunately, you know what has to happen if one of those blows.¡±


    Rowan swallowed and nodded solemnly. ¡°I know.¡± Cashin would offer him up as a sacrifice to save his own reputation¡ªand who could blame him? Rowan had saddled him with yet another enterprise that might end in tragedy and death¡ªor at the very least, embarrassment. It was the only logical thing to do.


    Cashin clapped him on the back again, and some of the levity returned to his face. ¡°I¡¯m glad we understand each other,¡± he said. ¡°Best of luck to you.¡±


    He left Rowan to meet up with a few clamoring inventors, his easy laughter echoing throughout the hall. Rowan stood there for a moment, watching the Stormclap room with unease, then decided to trust Kess and find Furion. He had enough problems of his own.

 Chapter 44: The Confidence of Control

    Kess was lost in her Fulminancy. Snaking between the pieces, it became a living, breathing thing¡ªan extension of her will.


    That terrified her.


    But there was something equally thrilling about playing Stormclap. Territories were lost or gained based on her ability to manipulate her own Fulminancy through the pins. It was a beautiful marriage of tactics, control, and mind games.


    Kess lacked the control, but she had the other two aspects of the game in hand. She overreached with her Fulminancy, often abdicating smaller pieces of territory in an effort to bring her main areas under control again, and Reina was brutal and swift with her punishment. Even so, Kess found herself able to make up for her weaknesses with careful movement of her pins, to some extent. What worried her more was how long she¡¯d be able to maintain the game without finding herself on the floor¡ªor worse, with a room full of corpses. As she lost stamina, would she also lose control?


    Reina chattered amiably as they played, unconcerned about Kess¡¯s underlying problem. And Kess, for her part, tried to oblige the woman.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be your first time playing Stormclap,¡± Reina noted, hovering over a piece.


    ¡°I know my way around a board,¡± Kess replied. ¡°Though any confidence you see is from the wine. I don¡¯t have the winning record that you do.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯d rather you partake in alcohol than avoid it,¡± Reina said. ¡°A man or woman who doesn¡¯t drink is someone who has something to hide.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine anyone at court would have something to hide.¡±


    Reina paused a moment, then burst out laughing. It was the laughter of a woman who was used to using her voice¡ªnothing like the delicate women who whispered conspiratorially in small circles with one another. Though her Fulminancy tugged insistently at her, Kess took a moment to smile at the strange woman. It was hard to find someone seemingly genuine at court.


    ¡°How did you manage to get saddled with Furion?¡± Kess asked, hoping to keep the woman talking. Reina smiled in a coy way and moved a pin to block off another of Kess¡¯s territories on the board.


    ¡°Now, now, we haven¡¯t even finished a game, and you¡¯re already asking questions?¡± She smiled as she said it and glanced back out at the main ballroom behind Kess. ¡°That one I don¡¯t mind answering, however. I lost a bet and the dullard got the good end of it.¡±


    ¡°What kind of bet?¡±


    Reina¡¯s eyes sparkled, some sort of savage mirth in them. ¡°The kind you¡¯ll find familiar from your work with rings, I imagine. I have a habit of attending some Fulminant fights. There was one where they dumped some poor Downhill girl in the ring, and I figured it was an easy way to make some money. No one bets against the Fulminant, but the girl had quite the track record in the underground.¡± She sniffed. ¡°I convinced Furion to bet on the Downhill girl, assuming she would lose in spite of that record, and well, things didn¡¯t quite go as planned.¡±


    Kess fought not to stiffen as the story unfolded. She searched the woman¡¯s face for something like recognition, but she was lost in her own thoughts, a mild pout on her face as she looked towards Furion. ¡°The girl won?¡± Kess asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.


    ¡°Not just won. Knocked her out cold. Nearly killed her if the medics weren¡¯t exaggerating.¡± She frowned, turning her wineglass in her hands. ¡°I still can¡¯t figure out how she did it. She would¡¯ve had to be Fulminant herself to dodge everything her opponent threw at her.¡± She sighed dramatically. ¡°Another reason Furion shouldn¡¯t have cheaped out and bought the nosebleed seats. You can¡¯t see anything from there.¡±


    Kess let out a breath she hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d been holding. Far enough away in an arena that big, and Kess¡¯s features wouldn¡¯t be visible. Reina wouldn¡¯t recognize her.


    ¡°She could have been Fulminant,¡± Kess suggested casually. She moved a piece, securing off another section of Reina¡¯s territory, which made the woman frown. ¡°Fulminant rings pull from Downhill all the time¡ªespecially when Fulminancy shows up in Downhill fights.¡±


    Kess¡¯s heart thumped erratically in her chest, but Reina, at least, seemed more focused on their game than on Kess¡¯s nervousness.


    ¡°If that was the case, then the docket didn¡¯t mention it,¡± she said, staring at a pin. ¡°It was specifically advertised as a mismatch¡ªa way to show that even the best Downhill Bloodcrawlers can¡¯t match what we¡¯ve got up here. A political scheme, if you will. Regardless, there aren¡¯t too many Fulminant Downhill anymore. After the current Mariel¡¯s little incident, the Blueblades have been tasked with bringing most of them back Uphill.¡±


    ¡°To control them, or¡­?¡±


    Reina shrugged, eyes distant, no longer focused on the board. ¡°In some cases, yes. Sometimes they probably just kill them. Other times they make a convenient political pawn, or they¡¯re hired as off the books assassins for the wealthy. With Northmont¡¯s new lights, many scholars have been interested in the idea of harnessing Fulminancy for the purpose of science. And then there¡¯s always the matter of empty Seats.¡± She trailed off, sipping her wine. Overhead, rain drummed on the rooftop and the light tinkling of glasses and voices floated across the space, mixed with the low buzz of Fulminancy in the room.


    Kess¡¯s fingers went cold around her glass, even as sweat trickled down her back from the effort of keeping her Fulminancy in check. Reina continued. ¡°A Seat passes away, or retires, or is born without Fulminancy. Who do you think replaces them?¡±


    Kess frowned at her glass of wine, wondering if it was making her thick headed. She had never given much thought to the workings of the Council, given that her parents¡ªand her by extension¡ªhad tried to stay as far away from them as possible. ¡°An heir further down the line,¡± she said. That was how it was supposed to work, anyway.


    Reina nodded and gestured at the board. With a start, Kess realized it was her turn¡ªand she¡¯d lost a territory by not paying attention to her Fulminancy. She swore internally, and tried to make up for the mistake with another pin, but Reina countered her immediately.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Sometimes an heir replaces them,¡± she said, ¡°or they bequeath the title to someone they¡¯re close to. Sometimes the Seat sits empty and someone with the ability to show great skill with Fulminancy can assume the Seat, and it becomes their title to pass on. They were designed to be passed down family lines, each to oversee a district of the city. Over time, unfortunately, they¡¯ve become a political farce, with different factions vying for the power that each Seat promises.¡±


    ¡°But the ones without Fulminancy who hope to keep the Seat¡­¡± Kess trailed off.


    ¡°Those are a special case,¡± Reina said, smiling. There was no warmth in the smile. ¡°Rumors suggest that you can transfer Fulminancy from one user to another, regardless of what those two people are born with. That power transfer was originally supposed to be used only for emergencies, but it¡¯s become as common as thunder now.¡±


    Kess¡¯s hand hovered over a piece as she studied Reina¡¯s face more carefully. The idea that Fulminancy could be taken from one individual and given to another was not necessarily novel, but Kess had long assumed it was a bit of lore fanned by lower city citizens tired of being maligned for their powers. ¡°On top of that,¡± Reina continued, ¡°did you know that Fulminancy can even choose a Seat?¡±


    She cocked her head at Reina, studying her across the board.


    ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡±


    ¡°Call it a personal interest,¡± Reina said, polishing off her wine.


    ¡°But why tell me, of all people?¡± It didn¡¯t make any sense. Kess¡¯s family could trace their line back to Mariel¡¯s from the beginning. Even if, by some awful series of events, Reina knew who she was, her implication that the Seat had been ill-gotten wouldn¡¯t hold water. Clouds, Kess didn¡¯t even want the Seat.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Reina said, looking at her empty wineglass with a mock pout. She spread her arms dramatically, taking in the surrounding room. ¡°Because tonight is a fantastic night for ghost stories, don¡¯t you think? And besides, I have a good feeling about you.¡± She winked at Kess and moved another piece. ¡°Now play. I believe we have a game to finish, and we wouldn¡¯t want to disappoint our audience.¡±


    Kess realized with a start that a small crowd had gathered politely a small distance away, watching their game. A few of them whispered at each other, gesturing towards the board. Rowan was nowhere to be found.


    Well, there¡¯s no way out of this now, she thought grimly, and moved a piece. One way or another, she¡¯d have to finish her Stormclap game.


    During the conversation, things had gone south for Kess, though it was perhaps still winnable. Controlling her Fulminancy while talking wasn¡¯t one of Kess¡¯s fortes, and Reina had taken over much of Kess¡¯s territory during that time. It was clear from the smile on Reina¡¯s face that she knew it. Still, Kess studied the board, and, playing like she was a fighter backed into a corner, made a series of moves that undid some of that damage. Behind her, a few men in the crowd swore and whispered, and Reina peered at the board, muttering, her smile gone.


    Before, it seemed, this had been sport to Reina. Now, she truly thought about each move, and her Fulminancy pressed against Kess¡¯s, strong, brutal, and insistent. Kess pushed back, and though most of Stormclap was played over the board, their Fulminancy clashed in the air above the wood, a battle of its own.


    It was a matter of pride for Kess. She¡¯d promised to learn Fulminancy, hadn¡¯t she? Game or not, if she couldn¡¯t master Stormclap as her brother had suggested all those months ago, then was she really worthy of learning the rest of her powers?


    Kess didn¡¯t think so.


    Still, as she played, and the board became a back-and-forth contest, Kess began to slip. Her control snapped at her, and her Fulminancy demanded more, as it usually did. It wanted to soar above the board¡ªto attack her opponent in earnest, not the territories which she controlled. And, while Reina¡¯s control was delicate and refined, Kess felt her Fulminancy push back against her own, taunting and demanding.


    This was perhaps why so few people wanted to play Reina. It wasn¡¯t her tactical brilliance¡ªthough she was good¡ªbut her Fulminancy¡¯s brutal efficiency at controlling the mind game above the board, taking away the mental control needed to play tactically advanced positions in the first place.


    Kess gritted her teeth and fought through it, though on some level she knew that her weakness from a month ago held her back. Her hand shook as she moved another piece, and her back was damp with sweat beneath her gown.


    I have to finish it quickly, she thought. There was a chance Kess could trap Reina and end the game with more territory, if only¡ª


    Kess froze as she made a move. Only after setting the piece down did she realize it was a mistake. Reina¡¯s colors snapped into place on the board, her gray Fulminancy covering nearly as much territory as Kess¡¯s blue. Reina placed her last pin¡ªending the game, and through the patchwork of Fulminancy, Kess saw¡ª


    ¡°A tie,¡± Reina breathed, and looked almost as shocked as Kess felt. Conversation erupted suddenly in the room, along with a patter of clapping, and the crowd dispersed to various boards or the ballroom itself, talking excitedly. Kess leaned back, exhausted and relieved, and her Fulminancy fizzled out. Reina did the same, though she didn¡¯t seem as affected. She regarded Kess for a moment, eyes careful, as if trying to figure out something¡ªthen she smiled.


    ¡°An excellent match,¡± she said. ¡°Well played.¡±


    Kess watched the Stormclap room, where players kept glancing over at their board in awe. ¡°Did we do something particularly impressive?¡± she finally asked.


    ¡°Few Stormclap players manage both the mental and physical game with such grace,¡± Reina said, watching the others. ¡°Some control their Fulminancy well, but fail to pay attention to the board itself. Others have a mind for strategy but no control over their Fulminancy. And¡ªof course¡ªsome of that comes from what¡¯s available to them growing up. Start with a Stormclap board for Duds and you¡¯ll develop the strategic mind, but often leave your Fulminancy flying in the wind.¡±


    ¡°We had one at home growing up,¡± Kess said, distracted. She felt wrung out.


    ¡°And yet you play both sides with elegance,¡± Reina said, smiling again. ¡°I suppose our bet is off, though, since no one won.¡±


    Kess regarded Reina for a moment, and, a bit like having fought an opponent in the ring, Kess understood the woman to a certain degree. Certainly sharing some information with her felt fair, given that they¡¯d both played their hearts out over the Stormclap board.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for a missing family member,¡± she said quietly, still watching the room.


    Reina simply snorted, following her gaze. ¡°Well, that could be anyone in the city at this rate.¡±


    ¡°I thought that was only happening Downhill?¡± Kess asked, frowning.


    ¡°Well, as you trotted over to the Stormclap room the moment you arrived tonight, I don¡¯t expect you to have noticed, but the current talk Uphill is the same thing. Missing Fulminant, even from wealthy houses.¡± Her eyes fell on Kess¡¯s family sash¡ªwhich, of course, was missing. Master Fulminancers were allowed to ditch their family sashes for their Fulminant one, though Reina wore both the red and white of her family¡¯s colors alongside her blue and red sash.


    ¡°There¡¯s a host of explanations for it, of course, most of them the same as the Downhill,¡± she continued. ¡°Mariel calling her followers home is the most superstitious of the lot I¡¯ve heard, though there are rumors of war as well¡ªover what, exactly, I can¡¯t tell.¡± She sighed, losing some of her poise. ¡°Men will figure out anything to fight over, it seems. In any case, your Stormclap board craftsman is one of those missing Fulminancers¡ªLord Westhill. His family is quite upset about it. If I were you, I¡¯d speak to them at the next gala, seeing as they¡¯re hosting it.¡±


    Reina stood up then and gave the Stormclap board and Kess one final sweep of the eyes. ¡°Until next time, Lady Kess. I hope we¡¯ll play again.¡± She wove through a crowd of Stormclap players and melted into the crowd.

 Chapter 45: Few Fools Are Born From Adversity

    There was so much to piece together that Kess sat there for a moment, exhausted and overwhelmed. A few Stormclap players tried to inch over to her for a game, but she waved them off. More than anything, she craved her bed. Perhaps she¡¯d bitten off more than she could chew so soon after her Fulminancy had bitten off a piece of her. Claire would absolutely have a fit if she knew what I¡¯d done, Kess thought, picking up her wineglass.


    Still, she had further information about her Stormclap mystery, and something else as well¡ªReina¡¯s mention of a way to transfer Fulminancy. Kess was certain it was a fairy tale, but her mind stuck to it stubbornly. With that, I could be¡­Normal? Kess had been searching for a way to be rid of her Fulminancy since she¡¯d discovered it, but had she ever really searched? Not like Rowan, she realized. Instead, Kess had taken a path which neither led her to mastery nor freedom from her powers. She¡¯d made herself a slave to them.


    Would I be willing to let go of them if I had a way? She wondered. It seemed like a simple solution to a nearly impossible set of problems. But Kess had often found that easily solved problems weren¡¯t solved at all.


    Kess left her wineglass at the table and sought Rowan, ready for the night to be over. It only took a few moments of searching in the ballroom before she heard a booming voice ring out.


    It was hard to miss the yelling man as Rowan¡¯s father. Whatever his mother looked like, Rowan had inherited the man¡¯s curls, handsome face, and height, though his father¡¯s features held a bitter slant, and his darker eyes bore none of the warmth of his son¡¯s. His father¡¯s booming voice also held little resemblance to Rowan¡¯s softer, more thoughtful tones. Kess wove her way through the crowd, hoping that her presence would soothe the man instead of provoke him.


    ¡°Boy, why are you still here, darkening my doorstep? I meant it when I got rid of you.¡± The man took a sip of his wine as Kess slid next to Rowan, linking her arm with his. He startled, but the gratitude in his face was evident.


    ¡°I have my own interests in attending court, father.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard all about your interests,¡± he snapped. ¡°What business could a Dud possibly have with Fulminant lights?¡± Kess flushed at that, her mind taken back to the insults she¡¯d hurled at Rowan well over a month ago now. She¡¯d had no way of knowing that what she said would cut so deep, but guilt slithered into the back of her mind all the same. ¡°This is a Fulminant court, Rowan,¡± his father continued. ¡°Whether you have something to contribute or not, the men and women who have Fulminancy make the rules. Even Dolen knows that.¡± He jerked his head towards a distasteful man Kess knew ran some of the worst rings in the city, Fulminant or not. ¡°You¡¯d do well to learn his ways if you want to survive here. He brings the Fulminant offerings, and we suffer his presence for a good fight or two.¡± He took a sip of wine, his eyes drifting to Kess¡¯s sash with a note of disgust. He wore his family¡¯s own black sash¡ªthe highest afforded to him without being old nobility¡ªalongside his red and blue sash.


    ¡°With all due respect, father, many of the ungifted call this court home. To suggest that they have nothing to offer is disrespectful at best and treasonous at worst. What do you suggest? That I do all my business outside of court, with no one to open their coffers? It would be financial suicide.¡±


    ¡°I would suggest, boy, that I know better than anyone what your lot has to offer. Overpriced lanterns aside, you¡¯re still a Dud, and you¡¯d do well to learn your place. Quite frankly, you¡¯d be better off rolling in the dirt with the wetboots.¡± Kess scowled at the insult. It was based on the idea that the Downhill didn¡¯t have the money or the resources to keep their own boots dry when Floodstorms barreled through. Like most insults, it stung because there was some amount of truth to it.


    The older Northmont cocked his head. ¡°Perhaps you could still be a Bloodcrawler, but well, you¡¯re a little attached to your sword and a little afraid to get your hands dirty, aren¡¯t you, son?¡±


    Kess felt Rowan¡¯s muscles go taut in his arm, but he said nothing. Kess had no such reservations, and the words were out of her mouth before she could rethink them. ¡°I find it hard to believe that you would do any better,¡± she said, words clipped. The man laughed at her.


    ¡°Here now, your whore has a mouth on her, doesn¡¯t she?¡± Kess took a step forward, but Rowan tugged her back with his arm, warning in his eyes, his motion subtle enough that his father missed it. ¡°My dear, you should know as well as I do that I wouldn¡¯t be fighting with my fists. I¡¯d be fighting with my Fulminancy.¡± He held up his hand, bringing a spark to life in it and allowing it to twine between his fingers at remarkable speeds. Kess stared. It was something she¡¯d only ever seen Seats do, and even then, only rarely. The action was small, but it spoke volumes: Rowan¡¯s father was on another level, far out of her reach¡ªor anyone else¡¯s, for that matter. He smirked, the grin a slimy thing that spread across his face.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°You see what you¡¯re dealing with now, girl. You¡¯re foolish, perhaps, but wiser than my son.¡±


    ¡°Your son is not a fool,¡± Kess said, voice dangerously quiet. ¡°Few fools are born from adversity, but I know quite a few who were born from a life of luxury.¡± The man sniffed at her, Fulminancy still dancing in his hand. His eyes drifted to her sash.


    ¡°You wear your colors like they¡¯re new to you. You¡¯ll find that mine are not new to me if you choose to stick your nose into my family¡¯s business again.¡± His Fulminancy snuffed out, and he turned to Rowan. ¡°Your mother and I are ashamed of you. Do us both a favor and stay far away from this court.¡±


    He turned to walk away, but not before Kess felt something creep up deep inside of her, a well of power she hadn¡¯t touched since Draven¡¯s death, even during the Stormclap game. She panicked, stuffing it away, her grip tight on Rowan¡¯s arm, but not before a loud crack of lightning and a low roll of thunder rumbled overhead. Some of the court ladies shrieked and giggled at the sound, and quite a few heads turned towards the ceiling, mumbling.


    ¡°That¡¯s strange,¡± Rowan¡¯s father said, turning just enough to look over his shoulder at them. His eyes flicked towards the ceiling. ¡°It seems to me it¡¯s the wrong season for that.¡± His gaze fell on Kess, something like understanding there. ¡°Your pet isn¡¯t quite house trained yet, Rowan,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯d take care of that if I were you.¡±


    He walked into the crowd as the thunder finished its grumbling and the rain returned in full force overhead. Kess and Rowan stood there, still linked, for several moments before Kess finally broke the silence.


    ¡°Well, he seems charming.¡± Rowan let out a laugh, but there was no humor in it.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been dreading that meeting for years now. I suppose that might have gone better if you were¡ª¡°


    ¡°Willing to watch abuse? I do seem to lack that ability.¡± She walked with Rowan as he led the two of them towards the dimmer edge of the room. ¡°Is there any particular reason why you didn¡¯t tell me your father has Seat-level powers?¡± Something darkened in Rowan¡¯s expression, but he shrugged.


    ¡°It didn¡¯t seem relevant.¡±


    ¡°I seem to recall someone saying that hidden magical powers are always relevant.¡±


    ¡°Well, they¡¯re hardly hidden, as you could see,¡± he said, jerking his head in the general direction of the conversation. Kess chewed her lip as they stood near a wooden pillar, the carvings ornate.


    ¡°Do you think he¡¯ll notice that¡ª¡°


    ¡°That you¡¯re new to the occupation?¡± he finished, glancing at her sash. ¡°He already did. Fortunately, lots of Fulminant test for their red and blue sash before they really have everything under control.¡±


    ¡°That seems counterintuitive,¡± Kess said, frowning as she leaned against the nearby wall.


    ¡°Yes, well, money talks.¡± Kess watched the partygoers for a moment longer, their dresses and suits a shining whorl of color over the deep browns of the hall. She let out a sigh and asked Rowan what had been bothering her for years.


    ¡°Rowan.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Have you ever met a Fulminancer who can interact with the weather?¡± Rowan¡¯s expression turned from distant and sad to sullen.


    ¡°Before you, no.¡±


    ¡°So you noticed then,¡± Kess said, resigned. She had always tried to dismiss the lightning and thunder as coincidence, but it was rather hard to do so during Floodstorm season. Beside her, Rowan leaned against the wall himself and snorted.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard not to notice when lightning plays with you, Kess.¡± She opened and closed her mouth a few times in shock before replying.


    ¡°When are you spying on me?¡± Rowan looked at the ceiling, sheepish.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call it spying exactly. When you first came to the manor, I kept an eye on you.¡± He caught her look of irritation and added, ¡°I don¡¯t do it anymore.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like I¡¯d be allowed to get into any trouble with Claire right there anyway,¡± she mumbled. She pushed a curl back from her face, suddenly aware of how tired she was. Whatever she had shown Rowan¡¯s father, it couldn¡¯t have been a good thing. But there was no taking it back now. And there was the added matter of Reina¡¯s strange conversation to deal with.


    ¡°Speaking of trouble,¡± Rowan said, turning her towards him, ¡°I don¡¯t recall Stormclap being part of our plan tonight. You¡¯re the color of a glass of milk, Kess.¡±


    ¡°Well, I almost won,¡° Kess muttered, avoiding his gaze.


    Rowan opened his mouth to argue, but paused as a voice rang out over the ballroom.


    ¡°Rowan!¡± Both of them looked up and were immediately disappointed by the approaching man. Furion hurried over to them, wiping at his sweaty head with a handkerchief. ¡°I have dinner arranged for us all, as requested,¡± he said, passing Rowan an envelope. ¡°Don¡¯t be late, and¡­¡± he trailed off, looking at Kess from head to toe. ¡°Wear something nice.¡±


    He licked his lips, something proprietary in his gaze, and this time Kess didn¡¯t fight to keep her Fulminancy away. Rowan took her hand, smiling graciously at Furion, but not before a crack of lightning echoed overhead, and Furion squealed. ¡°The weather is absolutely frightful these days, wouldn¡¯t you two agree?¡± he asked, his eyes turned towards the ceiling in fear. He hurried off, his handkerchief still in hand.


    ¡°You know,¡± Rowan said. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to like that aspect of your powers.¡±


    ¡°That makes two of us,¡± Kess replied, grinning.