On the last terrace, young men and women of every size and color follow their trainer with moves similar to Qigong. They all wear loose-fitting clothes in the same gray fabric as my shirt—students, I assume. Silver-white Flame sparks around their hands. Some hold small balls of light as they move through the graceful changes.

When trainers and students spot their commander passing inside the house, they stop to salute him with a sharp nod. Flanagan nods back. They stare at me with open curiosity.

As we enter the main building, we pass more groups of Guardians. All greet Flanagan with straight backs and stiff nods but study me with a mixture of fear and hostility. My chains rattle like thunder in the hushed silence. A gaggle of young girls in the corner titter and bat their eyes as I pass, but I’m relieved when Flanagan leads me through more doors into a wide, empty corridor.

“Do they all know?” I ask him.

“I’ve only informed Seonu’s team and the head trainer that you are part Anlu’kyr. The rest know you as the former Blood Servant who put eight Guardians in the infirmary.” He glances sideways at me. “Your smell and your looks will confuse them. They’ll be wary of you, but it’s preferable to the alternative. The Shifter families have been at war with the Anlu’kyr for four centuries. A converted servant they can accept. A mixed-breed Anlu’kyr, they will consider an enemy.”

“Great. Friendly lot, these Shifters.”

Flanagan shrugs. “The Anlu’kyr kept the Shifter species as slaves for more than a thousand years. Bloodlines lived and died, knowing nothing else. It was only after the Warlock years, when so many Shifters had been slaughtered on the front lines, that they rebelled and broke away.”

He stops at one of the enormous paintings set back into its own niche and points to the intricate war scene detailed on its surface. His finger lands on a figure in the center, wearing shiny armor. “General Belanger, an important leader in the war. Afterward, he led the Shifter rebellion against the Anlu’kyr. His daughter founded the High Council, which brokered democracy and lasting peace between the species, including humans. It’s why the Belangers are such a respected family.”

“So this is a battle scene from that rebellion?”

“No, this is the Battle of Cullen Marsh. A decisive moment in the war with the Warlock.” He points to a tall figure in black, standing on the central hill. “That’s the Warlock.”

I peer closer to get a better look. Leather armor wraps his tall body, enormous antlers rise high from a skeletal mask, and dark flames dance along his outstretched arms. Giant ravens fly around him, circling a spiral into the sky. He’s a sinister-looking dude.

I step back to study the war scene.