“Sheol I celebrates two hundred years of good work today. As you can see, it has been a successful venture, the first of many seeds we wish to plant. In exchange for your understanding, we have not only provided a humane means of removing clairvoyants from ordinary society, but prevented hundreds of Emite attacks on the citadel. We are a beacon to which they are drawn—like moths to a flame, as the saying goes.” Her eyes were their own beacons in the gloom. “But the Emim’s number grows greater every day. This colony will no longer be a sufficient means of protection. Emim have been sighted in France, Ireland, and, more recently, Sweden.”

Ireland. That was why Cathal Bell was here. That was why he looked so nervous, so frightened.

“It is paramount that we establish Sheol II, that we light another flame,” Nashira said. “Our method has been tried and tested. With your help, and your cities, we hope that the flower of our alliance can finally bloom.”

Applause. Warden’s jaw was set. His expression was terrible to see. Angry. Brutal. Murderous.

I’d never seen him look that way.

“There are a few minutes left until the play, written by our human Overseer. In the meantime, I would like to introduce my partner, the second blood-sovereign, who wishes to make a brief announcement. Ladies and gentlemen—Gomeisa Sargas.”

She extended a hand. Before I could even register that anyone else was there, it was taken by a larger one.

My breath caught.

He was dressed in black robes, with a collar that reached the tops of his ears. He was tall and lean, golden-haired, with gaunt features. His lips pulled downward, as if weighed down by the rows of eys-sized gems around his neck. He seemed older than the other Rephaim. Something about his bearing, and the sheer mass of his dreamscape. I could feel that dreamscape like a wall against my skull. It was the most ancient and terrible thing I’d ever felt in the æther.

“Good evening.”

Gomeisa looked at us with the neutral Rephaite expression: that of the impassive observer. His aura was like a hand across the sun. No wonder Liss was so afraid of him. She was wrapped in her ribbons, silent and still. After a moment, she dropped down to the gallery.

“To those humans who reside in Sheol I, I apologize for my long periods of absence. I am the Rephaim’s primary emissary to the Westminster Archon. As such, I spend much of my time in the capital city with the Inquisitor, discussing how best to increase the efficacy of this penal colony.