Trystan blasts the rune skiff through the dense line of storms over the Vo Mountain Range’s peaks, wind roaring and lightning cracking over the translucent shield. I grip tight to the handhold as we begin a rapid descent, struggling to wrap my mind around the revelation that our parents, Vale and Tessla, were Resistance fighters.

The upending thought is whisked aside as our skiff bursts through the storm band, the night sky opens up and I catch my first glimpse of the mountain city of Voloi.

It glitters blue and purple in the distance, just past the expansive Vo River, which reflects the city’s light in spectacular ripples of color, the fabled purple Xishlon star of the East hanging over it all like a beacon. The city is astonishingly vertical, clinging to the sky-piercing Voloi Mountain Range in multiple staircase-like tiers that resemble streaks of sparkling paint striped horizontally across the purple and black mountains.

Trystan draws down our shield and we soar toward the city, the Vo Mountains below giving way to moonlit forest flowing down like a draped carpet. Just beyond the forest lies a sapphire glowing runic border wall hugging the Vo River’s western bank, stretching as far as my eyes can see. Blips of rune skiffs dart along the rune wall’s apex like industrious blue fireflies.

But none of this is what has my breath cinching tight in my throat.

Rising from the border to flow over the vast river and the mountain city is a huge, translucent dome, faint blue runes splashed over its surface.

Noilaan’s dome-shield.

So large it makes the runic dome encasing the Amaz city of Cyme seem like a mere market basket tossed facedown over their valley.

Fear shivers through me as I’m struck by the image of Vogel striking down the dome over Chi Nam’s Vonor with one quick swipe of his Shadow Wand.

The rune skiffs patrolling the border’s apex come into sharper view, the sapphire border wall enlarging as we soar nearer. A tent city hugs its base, its darkness broken only by dots of firelight, the lack of light on this side of the border standing in stark contrast to the dazzlingly illuminated city.

I remember the words of the soldier in the purple woods—Go back to where you came from. Border’s closed. A chill snakes down my spine. “Where are the Vu Trin bringing the survivors of the kraken attack?” I ask my brother.

Trystan angles his head toward the dark encampment in answer.

Urgency swells. “Trystan, the small family I traveled through the Dyoi Forest with...two of them are really sick. They need to be quarantined with physician care immediately.”

“Ren, a quarter of that tent city has the Grippe,” Trystan grimly counters. “It’s part of the reason the Noi want to keep them walled out.”