The warded passageway led to the smallest of the chambers we’d been to, and the Faceless and King Aadil waited for us at its end with a few bodyguards. Druj was still heavily cloaked, a hood pulled down over his face, obscuring his features. King Aadil took no such steps to hide his identity. The mad king was clothed in ceremonial armor, similar to what I’d seen hanging from the scholar Garindor’s walls in his tiny Isteran cottage back in Farsun. The king also wore a gold circlet on his head in place of a crown, with wings hammered on either side.

About a dozen bodyguards flanked him, all of whom moved in unison to shield their ruler. The king drew his sword and snarled a warning as we approached. I didn’t need to look into his head to know his insanity; his eyes looked the same as Telemaine’s had all those months ago.

“As you suspected, Tea,” Althy said quietly. “They do not have the First Harvest, and the king demands that we hand it to him immediately.” She lifted her voice and returned an answer to him in Drychta. The king responded with streams of abuse and stepped forward but stopped when the hooded figure raised its hand.

“Give up,” I said, directing my words to Druj. “You won’t find the First Harvest here.”

The figure turned its face toward me. Suddenly, I was no longer standing in a cave inside Mithra’s wall of mountains. Instead, I was some distance from a great city, watching it burn. The smoke and ash seared my senses, the smell stinging and acrid.

This is not real, I thought frantically, willing myself to calm down. This is not real!

The Faceless stood before me, but he did not attack. Instead, he inclined his covered face in the direction of the city, watching it burn.

This wasn’t Kion. The buildings were different.

It is not a city you will recognize, someone said, more whisper than voice. It was soft and hoarse, pitched low. Its name has been forgotten to all but history.

Why are you showing me this?

I have suffered loss as you have. For you, it is visions of Kion in flames. That is your nightmare as much as this was mine. And the irony is that you shall burn Kion to save it.

Who are you?

A friend, if you are willing. The figure walked into the center of that maelstrom, wordlessly bidding me to follow. I hesitated, but there was nowhere else to go, so I trailed after the cloaked figure warily, wrapping the Dark around me should my instincts prove wrong.

The man was content to walk ahead without bothering to look back and see if I followed. He stopped before the remnants of a house whose foundation had since been given up to heat and flames. It smoldered while everything around it continued to rage.