A dozen generations may have lived in Necropolis, but long before that, Palemon’s ancestors grew their island metropolis into the most powerful nation in the Realm of the Three Seas. They built the Library of Kantos, the Temple of the Magi, the Royal Palace, and the Tomb of Caphri. At the Coliseum, slaves from all over the Realm fought each other in bloody bouts before crowds of fifty thousand. Archmagus Nisos created great wonders: the golden disc and copper bell at the summit of the Lighthouse, the copper chains, and this mysterious arch.

Back in Necropolis, the magi had always told tales of Aleuthea, and there were written accords brought with the exiles from before the fall, but since his return, Palemon now knew far more about his ancestors. He knew that they enslaved the eldren and kept dragons in a vault below the Great Tower in Aleuthea, a structure that Zara said was visible through the sea, in the deep water below Widow’s Peak.

Feeling anxiety and excitement in equal measure, he gripped the arms of his throne and watched as Kyphos got the slaves and soldiers into order while Zara assembled her magi just above the water’s edge. His breath quickened as six sorcerers, some old, some young, but all skilled at commanding the wind, stood in a line facing the water. Overhead, swooping dragons circled at the height of the lowest clouds.

Soon all was ready.

Palemon glanced at the king of Xanthos, sitting on the hard rock beside the throne with shoulders hunched and head bowed between his knees. These so-called kings had no idea what real power was. They were soon going to find out.

Palemon scowled when he saw that Dion was barely aware of what was happening. He wanted him to see this. Feeling growing irritation, he clicked his fingers at a slave, who shuffled over, his head bowed in deference as he brought him a skin of water. Palemon took the skin and immediately tossed it at Dion’s feet.

But he frowned when the king of Xanthos didn’t move, merely looking up at him with a pained expression, lifting his wrists to show that they were bound with tough leather. Palemon drew the dagger at his belt and leaned down to whip the blade through the bindings. Immediately Dion reached down and picked up the skin, pulling out the stopper and drinking greedily.

‘Watch, King of Xanthos,’ Palemon said. ‘One day, if the gods smile on you, it might be you writing this history.’

Dion ignored him, gulping mouthful after mouthful of water.

‘Sire.’ Zara approached. ‘We are ready.’

Palemon drew in a long breath, savoring the moment, more tense and eager than he’d ever been before. ‘What will I be able to see from here?’

‘The Great Tower is our objective. I expect the structure to follow a similar configuration to the tower in Malakai, although its diameter is of course significantly larger.’