Tunde, Ifa, and Sera found themselves back in the engine room. Above, Tunde could feel Zhu’s presence in his quarters on the ship, the Ethralite’s power fluctuating with every breath he took. The divine creature seemed at peace as Tunde pulled his mind away from him and focused on the letter. The red ink on the paper glowed before morphing into the shape of a face, vaguely resembling Varis.

  “This is new,” Tunde murmured, prompting a chuckle from Ifa.

  “Greetings, Tunde. If you’re seeing this letter, I assume you’ve made it past the borderlands and into the heartlands and central plains. Congratulations,” Varis said, though Tunde frowned.

  “The shadow that delivered this letter would have no doubt informed you of the urgency of this task,” Varis continued.

  “Your trip to the Sect of the Ashen Flame—while under the guise of supporting them in a matter known only to the imperial clan and a few select houses—has another purpose. I need you to investigate what’s truly happening with my uncle and his sect,” Varis explained.

  “Veyra Talahan, a direct descendant of the clan’s main branch and now sect leader of an outer faction, is a powerful figure. However, troubling reports suggest something sinister is happening within his sect—something that could pose a threat to the Talahan clan and the empire itself,” Varis said as Ifa’s eyes widened.

  Tunde noticed this but watched as Ifa’s expression shifted back into a wary gaze while the message continued, the paper now smoldering at its edges.

  “Suffice to say, you’ll be in enemy territory. This is no longer the half-baked lords and cultivators of the borderlands and wastelands, but true cultivators with deep knowledge of their techniques. Caution is essential if our suspicions are correct,” Varis warned.

  The letter had burned halfway through. “Should you discover something truly alarming, pour Ethra into the medallion I gave you. Do not do this lightly; you will only have one chance, but help will come. Good luck, Tunde. Do not fail me,” Varis finished as the paper turned to ash, swirling in the air before settling on the ground, forming the shape of a map.

  “I believe the master has provided us with the directions to the Ashen Flame sect,” Ifa said, frowning.

  Tunde pondered the contents of the message. “You suspect something’s wrong,” he said.

  Ifa nodded. “Why now? Why us?” he asked, folding his arms behind his back.

  “What do you mean?” Sera asked.

  “The Talahan clan must’ve had suspicions for a while. Why send a group of lords to investigate a matter as critical as this?” Ifa questioned.

  Tunde nodded. “You think we’re being used as bait?” he asked.

  “Not in the literal sense,” Ifa replied. “Varis still needs to present you to the clan at Talahar. I suspect this has less to do with the clan itself and more with Varis and whoever he suspects within the sect.”

  “And this?” Tunde asked, pointing to the ashen map on the ground.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe the monk can help us,” Ifa mused.

  Moments later, Daiki entered the room, beckoned by Sera. He studied the map intently. “Those look like the Shadowscar Peaks, a range of mountains deep within the heartlands. They’re restricted by the empire and rumored to be home to powerful beasts kept at bay,” he explained.

  “Now we know how those beasts were kept at bay,” Zehra said as she walked into the engine room, gazing at the map.

  It struck Tunde how little Zehra knew about the world beyond Shimmersteel. It was a clear sign of her sheltered upbringing and perhaps why the patriarch of the Acacia clan had sent her along with them.

  “When you say ‘powerful beasts,’ just how powerful are we talking?” Sera asked, a gleam in her eye. Tunde rolled his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips, while Daiki answered, oblivious to her excitement.

  “I can only speak from rumors I’ve heard from brother monks who, in turn, heard them from merchants. It’s said that tier five and six beasts call it home,” Daiki replied.

  “Highlord and Master-ranked creatures. Great,” Zehra muttered with a groan, while Sera tightened her grip on her blade, catching Tunde’s gaze.

  “Well, it looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Ifa said with a clap of his hands. “We head for the Shadowscar Peaks.”

  ****************************************

  A room had been remade into a sparring chamber by Sera and Zehra. It was the first time Tunde had seen the two ladies work together toward a common goal. The storeroom, now empty of its possessions, had been stripped bare, leaving it empty except for the reinforced wooden planks that Tunde suspected could handle a few lord-rank techniques before shattering. He kept that in mind.

  Sera suggested they use wooden planks in place of their blades. Two hardened planks, now flowing with their Ethras, were in hand. In Tunde’s case, he restricted the flow of Ethra to avoid turning the wood to nothing. The ship was on course for the peaks, with Ifa assuring them that they were far out of the territories of any clan or sect’s city after consulting the large map in the captain’s office.

  Navigating the ship was tricky. It weaved in and out of the clouds, staying clear of any sensors or barriers. Occasionally, Tunde could see the outlines of cities in the distance. One time, he spotted something massive below, so large that he did a double take, but it vanished, as if it hadn’t been there at all. The heartlands and central plains were beautiful—sprawling grasslands punctuated by mountains and waterfalls, with large swaths of dry land glistening like red clay in the sunlight. Daiki explained that most of what they saw belonged to large clans and vassals under the Talahan clan’s control.

  Tunde knew Bloodfire was a large continent, but it never truly hit him just how vast the empire was. They hadn’t even reached the Heralds’ enclaves, which, according to Zehra, lay to the east of the empire. In that place, might ruled absolutely, unlike the empire, where status and influence held sway. He could only imagine the trouble he’d be in there if he didn’t think things through.

  For now, though, there wasn’t much to do but train. For once, Tunde was grateful for Ifa’s presence. The master, who still masked his core to appear as a Highlord, watched them both with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “You know the rules,” Ifa began. “No deep damage, first to surrender, and show me more than just throwing techniques around like a petulant child,” he ordered, as both Sera and Tunde nodded, their eyes locked on each other, daring the other to move first.

  “Begin,” Ifa said, and they both launched forward with a dizzying crack.

  Sera came at him with swift, flowing strikes that sought to slam into his joints. Tunde repelled them with fluid yet tempered strokes, the sound of their wooden weapons echoing a dozen times over in mere moments as they danced around each other. He refrained from using Ethra Sight, aware that the duel would end as quickly as it began if he did. Tunde had reached a state where using it against another lord was almost a guaranteed victory, but he wanted to push himself further—body, core, mind—each reaching the peak of what a lord could attain. All that remained was to hone his Asura fighting style.

  It was refreshing to wield the blade again, in place of his naginata, which remained within his void ring. Sera’s swings betrayed her intent to break his skin and spill blood. Her strikes were fierce, arrogant, and wrathful, like a wild animal clawing for his flesh. But Tunde held back, turning aside each dangerous attack, biding his time, waiting for a slip in her movements.

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  It came sooner than he expected—an overreaching arc that would have left a painful welt on his shoulder. He caught it, pushed it down, and then twisted aside, adding more strength into his stroke. His weapon arced up and cracked painfully against her jaw, but Sera paid it no mind, seeing the opportunity he had provided her to enter his space. She took it without hesitation—something Tunde admired about her. Sera always took risks, no matter what she suffered to get there.

  Perhaps it was her trust in her remarkable healing ability, thanks to her concept, or maybe she was simply that daring. Either way, it worked. Except, this time, Tunde had anticipated it. Sacrificing his left arm as she slammed her weapon into it, releasing a burst of agony in his bones, Tunde caught her legs. His eyes widened as her blood Ethra surged to life, but Tunde’s void realm took effect, nullifying the attack.

  His blade was pointed at her neck in silence. Both of them were breathing heavily.

  “Yield,” he said softly, a triumphant smile on his face as she glared up at him from the ground. For a moment, Tunde thought she might try something, already preparing for her to escape and counter. But the wooden weapon in her hand clattered to the ground in defeat.

  “I yield,” she grumbled. Tunde helped her up, chuckling, as Ifa clapped behind them and Zehra snorted from her spot on the side. Sera’s eyebrow twitched slightly, though Tunde noticed it.

  “Impressive. Your attacks are faster and more composed than before,” Ifa said, his voice full of approval. “Of course, I noticed Sera broke the no-techniques rule a few moments ago,” he added meaningfully.

  “I had no choice,” Sera muttered, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “He had me dead on the spot.”

  “And yet, you weren’t dead. Not at that moment,” Ifa countered. “Every move, every action in combat has a ripple effect—how you deal with it matters.”

  Ifa rose to his feet and collected the wooden weapon from Sera. “Observe,” he said, folding one hand behind his back as he waited for Tunde to attack him.

  Tunde obeyed; his weapon raised as he moved forward—then suddenly stopped. His body shivered. Ifa had only raised his weapon slightly, but in that moment, Tunde felt an imperceptible pressure—an eerie certainty of defeat. It was the weight of a final blow in a duel that had barely begun.

  Just as quickly, the feeling vanished. Tunde gathered his wits, aware of the others watching Ifa in awe and a touch of fear. Ifa, however, was unaffected by their stares, smiling calmly as he continued.

  “Not only must your techniques be deadly, but your entire form must embody deadliness—without hesitation,” Ifa explained. “Techniques, Ethra, and concepts are just one part of cultivation. They draw you into the world of power, but true cultivation lies in nourishing not just the body, but the mind and soul as well.”

  Ifa’s palm began to glow with a dark brown Ethra. “Most cultivators don’t realize this until it’s too late, and they find themselves stalling at Highlord. But you all still have time. Enlightenment, not just affinity strength, is the key.”

  “How come most cultivators don’t know this?” Sera asked, wiping her face as Zehra and Daiki took their places for their spar.

  “Because most powerful factions hoard the secrets of cultivation to maintain control,” Zehra replied, and Ifa nodded.

  “Bahataba tries to spread knowledge, but the sects and powerful houses restrict our efforts,” Daiki added, twirling his wooden staff.

  “Be that as it may,” Ifa continued, “there are two ways to advance properly.”

  “Advance properly?” Tunde asked, feeling Zhu’s presence as the Ethralite entered the room, his green antennae bobbing as his insect feet pattered on the wooden floor.

  “Yes. Most cultivators push their bodies and affinities to their limits, which is fine if you aim only for Master rank. But if you seek higher, you need to learn to feel nature and understand your place in reality,” Ifa explained.

  “Bahataba, the first hymn of peace, teaches us to be one with nature,” Daiki nodded as Tunde glanced at him.

  “Ethra comes from Adamath, from the reality around us. It flows into us. Understanding that flow is understanding the gift,” Ifa explained as his Ethra shimmered. “Aura, on the other hand, comes from within—it is the imprint of your soul, your essence. That’s why it works well against other cultivators and why it’s often your best defense against dominion techniques.”

  “Because it’s your soul fighting back,” Tunde finished, and Ifa smiled.

  “Precisely.”

  “Then what is essence flame?” Sera asked.

  “An amalgamation of the two,” Daiki answered as he attacked, his staff colliding with Zehra’s wooden weapon with a sharp crack.

  “If you know all of this, why are you still a lord?” Tunde asked.

  “Because only a fool rushes through the ranks of advancement without proper preparation,” Ifa replied calmly. “Slow and steady. Your foundation must be as solid as a mountain to endure the trials the heavens will send as you climb higher. That’s why most cultivators stop at Highlord or Master rank.”

  Tunde kept one eye on Daiki and Zehra’s fast-paced sparring match as he absorbed Ifa’s words.

  “Until you gain a foundational understanding of all three aspects, combined with techniques that attune themselves with nature, your attacks will remain hollow—flamboyant displays of power and little more,” Ifa concluded.

  “Techniques that harm not just the body but the soul itself,” Tunde breathed, and Ifa raised an eyebrow at him, smiling.

  “Indeed.”

  “There’s a long way to go for you all, but for now, it all boils down to training,” Ifa finished as Tunde patted Zhu’s head, sitting down on the floor. Closing his eyes, he began to meditate on his concept.

  There was still so much to learn.

  *******************************************

  As dusk settled on the third day of an otherwise uneventful trip, Ifa reported they were nearing the peaks. The entire crew gathered at the prow, staring into the approaching darkness. Tunde frowned as the winds carried a faint smell of ash.

  The landscape had gradually shifted from lush green grass to a rocky terrain, with harsh brown stones and rivers flowing in the distance. The last settlement they had passed looked nearly deserted, which struck Tunde as odd, especially since they were moving deeper into the heart of the empire.

  He wasn’t the only one who noticed the grim change. Sera, standing beside him, grunted in displeasure, and even Zhu seemed to shudder as the ship approached the looming curtain of darkness. Above them, dark clouds hung ominously, crackling with thunder and flashes of lightning.

  "It belongs to the imperial clan, alright," Zehra muttered, while Daiki began quietly chanting something under his breath, his eyes fixed on the distance.

  “We have company,” Ifa said, his gaze turning toward two flying figures approaching the ship.

  Dark grey robes flapped in the wind, and through Ethra Sight, Tunde could see they were lords as well. He marveled at the potency of their Ethras as they stopped a few meters from the ship, blades drawn. The two figures looked deathly pale, as though the blood in their bodies was close to drying up.

  Storm grey eyes met them—one of the figures had jet-black hair, the other grey. Together, they cut an imposing figure as they hovered there.

  “This is the territory of the Ashen Flame Sect. Turn around or face the wrath of the sect,” the dark-haired one said, glaring at them with barely concealed disdain. Ifa glanced at Tunde.

  “They’re yours,” Ifa said, ignoring the two lords Tunde knew he could put down effortlessly.

  Tunde nodded, noticing Sera’s hand casually resting on her weapon. He stepped forward, one hand inside his robe, gripping the medallion.

  “I think you’re mistaken,” Tunde began, moving closer to them. The grey-haired cultivator gripped his weapon tighter, the ash around him swirling in agitation.

  “We come on the orders of the imperial clan,” Tunde continued, revealing the medallion. Their eyes widened in shock, and they hastily bowed, dropping onto the prow of the ship and kneeling.

  “We greet the emissaries of the imperial clan!” they thundered, their voices quivering with surprise.

  “Forgive us; we were not expecting anyone from the capital,” the grey-haired cultivator stammered.

  Ifa flexed his aura slightly, revealing his Highlord power. The cultivators froze in place.

  “Is that so? Then we understand the disrespect,” Ifa said with a sharp laugh that made the lords flinch.

  Tunde was about to respond when an even greater power surged in the distance. Another figure—this time a Highlord—shot toward them. This one was female, with dark brown hair and the same dark grey robe as the others. She landed atop the ship, staring at the medallion for a brief moment. Tunde thought he saw a flicker of disgust in her eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

  She bowed at the waist; her voice neutral. “Greetings, emissaries of the imperial clan. We have been expecting you,” she said. “Please forgive our lords; they were unaware of just how vital your arrival is.”

  “It is we who should apologize. Thank you for receiving us,” Tunde intoned, with Ifa nodding slightly in acknowledgment of his quick thinking.

  “Please, follow me. Welcome to the Shadowscar Peaks and Ashhaven,” the Highlady said as she floated back into the air, the two lords following. The trio led the team deeper into the clouds, past the odd mixture of rain and ash smells. As the ship passed through a barrier, it shuddered slightly before emerging into a vast area nestled between four mountains, with a city of glistening lights in the distance.

  Sera whistled softly, clearly impressed by the sight, as the Highlady spoke, her voice clear even from where she flew ahead of them.

  “Welcome to Ashhaven, home of the Ashen Flame Sect,” she announced.

  “Tunde,” Ifa whispered. Tunde stiffened, barely turning his head toward him, cautious in case the lords were somehow monitoring their conversation. “Be careful. Something feels wrong about this place,” Ifa said with a frown.

  Tunde turned his gaze to the first two mountains, their peaks wreathed in storm clouds. Feeling the power radiating from them, Tunde came to two conclusions: first, Varis had indeed sent them somewhere dangerous, and second, for the first time, he was willingly about to throw himself into that danger.