I hug my cousin’s waist tight as we soar out of the sublands tunnel toward the Voloi Mountain Range’s pinnacle, our rune skiff zooming into the cobalt predawn sky. My heart flies into my throat as I take in the number of military skiffs hovering at the base of the mountain, a more intense panic striking through me when my eyes flit down toward our skiff.

We’ve disappeared.

Or rather, Or’myr’s camouflaging spell has us blending in with the purple stone of the mountain’s rough peak so exactly it’s as if we’ve vanished against it. Struggling to wrap my mind around the illusion of our bodies being propelled through the air with nothing beneath us, I tighten my grip around Or’myr’s torso.

“Don’t look down,” Or’myr suggests over his shoulder. “Focus on a high point instead.”

I swallow and pin my attention on the fading stars sprinkled across the sky even as worry hums through me over what will happen to everyone if they’re taken into custody.

Eventually, we round a bend in the mountain range and the multitiered city of Voloi comes into view, the predawn sky rapidly brightening to azure in the East. Swooping upward, I flinch as an explosion of bright purple light flashes around us. A small two-story dwelling shivers into being just under the mountain’s apex and my brow flies up at the sight of my cousin’s fantastical Vonor. It’s cut into the stone much like Fain’s estate, its circular tower forming its top story, runes marked over its surface.

Or’myr guides the skiff to a smooth landing on his Vonor’s lower terrace and we disembark and cross the terrace’s violet stone, striding toward a dark plum wooden door. He grabs the lantern hung beside it and I follow him into a small foyer, then up a spiraling staircase. As we ascend, I take in the finely wrought landscapes hung on the walls: deep-violet pencil renderings of the view, most of a romantic nature—impressionistic storms, ethereal, misty mornings, moonlit nights—all marked with Or’myr’s signature.

The staircase leads into a cluttered tower room, and my wand hand reflexively tightens with want. Or’myr’s Vonor is a veritable indoor violet forest. Sanded deep-purple trees are set into the walls. Their branches cover the ceiling and frame the tower’s semicircle of arching windows, which afford a panoramic view of the tiered city below as well as the massive Vo River beyond, the distant Wyvernguard’s two walkway-linked vertical islands unnervingly in view. More branches frame stained-glass amethyst doors leading to a small stone balcony.

My gaze darts around the multitude of shelves set into the trees’ nooks, holding countless books as well as a variety of scientific equipment, scores of purple-hued gems, myriad art supplies, and a variety of purple wands and runic weapons.