The twin spires of the archmage’s estate came into view as we crested the hill. The spires were perhaps ten stories high. Despite sitting in such a remote location, the estate was nonetheless protected by a tall fence with two pairs of guards on either side of the main gate, huddled around two heaters.

  I looked to Selene for a go-ahead, then strode forward.

  “Halt!” As we approached, the guard whose uniform was decorated with stripes held out his hand to stop us. His companions drew their weapons as we pressed forward. “On what grounds do you trespass here?”

  “We don’t have time for this.” I kept walking.

  Selene did her duty as commander, explaining while she walked alongside me: “Stand down. We are the Order of Solana, here on royal business.”

  The three lower-ranking guards looked to their superior who squinted at the emblem on our armor. Once satisfied, he nodded to his men, who promptly sheathed their weapons.

  I patted the leader on the shoulder as I passed by. “Have a wonderful day.”

  I looked up at the east tower. I needed to hurry. Without further thought, I broke into a sprint. Fifty meters to the tower’s base. Judging by what was happening up top, I had one minute, if I was lucky.

  I’m never lucky though, am I? I broke into a sprint.

  Running through deep snow was a struggle, and I also had the harsh winds to contend with, biting-cold air threatening to knock me down entirely. Still, I ran. Meanwhile,Dame Selene opted to proceed at a more leisurely pace, either because she couldn’t keep up with my sprint, or more likely because she didn’t need to. The rest of our escorts trailed behind her, shivering in the cold.

  I pushed onward. High above, Helian jumped.

  Well, here goes nothing.

  During my four decades at Sola’s side, I witnessed many things. The seven years’ campaign led us across the continent, revealing foreign landscapes and unknown horrors in equal measure. The past year, in comparison, had felt like a decade compressed into a single moment. My understanding of the universe had been upended, and strange events occurred one after another.

  As I bolstered myself against the freezing wind and watched the new vice commander sprint towards the archmage’s tower, another strange event unfolded before me.

  The sweeping winds gathered and coiled into a twisting tempest, seemingly controlled by the younger Lady Solana, whose hand was outstretched. The mass of violent air split into two halves—then bisected once more. Hands formed from each ribbon of swirling air and reached up to snatch a falling woman out of the sky before gently carrying her into the vice commander’s waiting arms.

  When did she learn magic? Who had taught her magic?

  Helian drifted lazily down into my outstretched arms. I held her tight. “Hi.”

  “Hello. I take it you’ve been planning this for a while.”

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  “Yeah. I wasn’t certain of the timing, though.”

  She pointed at Selene and the other knights, then at my chest. “What’s with the knights and the insignia?”

  I shrugged. “I got promoted. I have a last name now, too.”

  She stepped back, dusted herself off, and shivered. “It’s cold out here. Do you have a spare overcoat?”

  “I knew I’d forgotten something… sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” Helian nodded, clapped her hands to summon a ball of fire, then tapped it gently. The orb of flame began to orbit her slowly. “This’ll do.”

  “Rotisserie Saintess.”

  “Shut up. We have company.” Helian pointed at the figure angrily stomping towards us from the ground level of the east spire.

  I smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Mind letting me handle this one?”

  “Not at all. Have fun!” Helian made her way back to Selene and the waiting knights.

  The archmage bellowed as he approached. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Good evening, Sir Atropa. You stand accused of murdering Duchess Coroban and abducting the saintess. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

  The archmage laughed. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

  “No, but you do have to answer to His Majesty, and I come bearing a letter with his seal.”

  “Letters burn easily.” He conjured a coiling rope of flame with a snap of his wrist. “As do knights.”

  I nodded. Part of me had been hoping for this. “I expected as much. In tribute to your long and distinguished service, I will allow you to redeem your honor with a duel. As the eldest among those gathered here, it seems appropriate to grant you the first strike.” I dipped my head before looking directly into his eyes. “I’ll be claiming the last, however.”

  As lightning erupted from his other hand, the archmage smiled. I grinned in return.

  Dame Selene greeted me with a hug and offered a blanket from her pack. As I turned back to face the tower, she asked me something I wasn’t prepared for.

  “Saintess Helian, when did Lady Frost learn magic? Did you teach her?”

  At that moment, I realized I had made a mistake a very long time ago.

  Bolts of lightning forked out from the archmage’s fingertips, like a thousand vines of coiling, hot light seeking to make contact with Frost Solana’s body. Suddenly, a whip of fire joined them, lashing out towards her legs.

  Frost extended one hand, and as her eyes shined pale blue, conjured an array of brilliant, magical marks and patterns, which laced together and formed into a wall. Atropa’s lightning bolts struck the magical wall, rebounding back into the night air.

  She drew Pretense with her other hand and sliced through the flaming whip. She began to approach the magician.

  The archmage released a hail of fire upon his opponent in rapid succession, then swept his hand along the ground, splitting it into a gaping chasm to stop her approach. Then, he began to charge up another volley of lightning.

  With another swipe of her blade, the flaming projectiles were dissipated. The sword now glowed a dull red. She wrenched her free hand straight down, sending drifting snow from the sky down in thick sheets to fill the chasm. Once again, her path forward was clear, and she continued her approach.

  Atropa, his panic clearly increasing by the moment, released a half-formed barrage of lightning—to no avail, as Frost’s glowing red blade cut through it easily like a boat passing through still waters.

  Atropa clapped his hands and the earth rumbled, and a range of jagged spires erupted from the ground, separating the archmage and Frost once again. Another a hail of fire rained down from the sky, this time trailed by a fleet of magical arrows.

  Frost raised her hand and twisted her wrist. The air obeyed her gesture and swirled in kind, halting, then redirecting Atropa’s latest aerial assault. Fire and arrows missed their target and landed uselessly in the snow to the left of the duelists.

  Sword in her grip, Frost whipped her arm in a long sweep from left to right, cutting a massive, white-hot gash across the stone spires. A single kick was all it took to break the tips from their bases. With the obstacles out of the way, she pushed forward.

  Atropa was now hunched over, panting with exhaustion. As Frost approached him, I was struck by another realization.