“A bard here sells stardust?” I tug my top hat low and flip up my collar, adjusting my oxygen mask as I scan the dock.
Mister Kieffer drops from the rope ladder hanging from the Nebula’s railing. “Aye.” Maskless, he’s only a little breathless in the oxygenless Holuvian atmosphere.
It’s risky to let a prisoner
The sunken cathedral walls swallow me as I lower myself through the depths, past the missing roof, one hand gripping my tether, the other cradling my flashlight.
“Jamaica?” Rasheed’s voice crackles through my headset. “You got eyes on the rubies yet?”
Before I answer, I swing my flashlight across the cathedral walls.
It’s been weeks—months, maybe—since the world ended. Since my city burned. But the smoke lingers, turning the sky gray-gold.
I catch my breath in the shade of a dune, listening for something beyond the hollow rasp of wind over sand.
Trolls never give up once they have the scent
Coriander the Third grinned at the contraption in his hands. He’d created the greatest Dooms-Day invention this side of Gargon Ridge. He nodded proudly at the round, gleaming surface. It was the same perfect silver shade as the Fighting Evil Unit—or FEU—suits. Covering his invention with a cloth, he pushed through
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This is Day 1 of the Heymon Project. The traps are set. My colleagues laugh at me for entertaining the notion that any heymons have managed to sneak into our woods, but we’ll see. According to my research, they are curious and adventurous creatures. I have little doubt they’re
The prisoner still refuses to talk.
Hands clasped behind my back, I pace my cabin. Shutters dim the starlight lanterns on my desk, but the wide, paned window reveals the sparkling view of a myriad of stars to our stern. I can’t bring myself to pull the blinds, lest I miss some glimpse of pursuit.
I’ve spent too much time in the underworld.
Atticus scowled at his reflection in one of The Drake’s shiny hull plates. Dark shadows drooped beneath his eyes, and his skin had taken on a bluish tint. Too many months breathing the fog in the netherwoods.
He hitched the burlap sack higher on his should
All I wanted was to make a world.
Stop looking at me. I can feel you looking at me. Judging me. I didn’t ask for much—not to rule a world that already existed, not to bend a galaxy to my will—only to make myself a cosmos, woven by my own mind.
“Could I fly up and cut through the bars?” Deidre hovers a few feet away from me.
I shake my head. “I rigged an invisible forcefield below the cage.”
“What if we disarm it?”
“There’s a cooldown timer.” I sigh. “And the bars are titanium.”
“I could use my lasers,” Raymond suggests.
“The cage will
I will eat you.
My meal sits outside of a prison cell’s glass wall. Tempting. So close. Inches away.
Eat you how?
“I-I just wanted to say I’m not afraid of you, Morlock.” The figure holds an object in his hands. “I know that’s not your real name. But that’s what you are. Like
Simon’s Magickry was not like any traditional magician’s shop. There were no shelves cluttered with ancient books and talismans. There were no candles or crystal balls, nor was the shop musty or dark.
Instead, well-polished white floors reflected the dazzling radiance of the ceiling’s LEDs, filling the shop with brilliance. Plastic-sleeved magic kits
I savor the moment as our cannons fire on the bustling trade ring. The void of space swallows any sound as red flashes shoot from our guns and streak for the alliance’s heart. The time for my vengeance has come at last.
The blast turns the huge ring-shaped trade station into space dust
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