PROLOGUE

THE FAESLAYER

"Tepet Genji?" A voice growled.

My servants glanced at one another. They obviously thought I was about to die.

I slowly turned to see who had called my name.

The soldier stood just beyond the light of our campfire. His eyes reflected green in the dark. Though he was dressed in beautiful armor and walking upright, I noticed he had a tail. Like many of the Anathema's ferocious servants, he was a beastman, the bastard offspring of a demon and an animal. I made a silent prayer to the Dragons for protection. The beastman gave me a curious look.

"Lord Faeslayer wishes to speak to you," he said.

"Then take me to him," I replied cordially.

It was not as if I had a choice. I was his prisoner.

Since I am a scholar and not a warrior, I behaved as though I were resigned to my Fate. If my captors saw that I was obedient, they would not suspect that my mind was whirling with plans. My home was not far away, and the packs of demons roaming the countryside posed a danger to my people. I had been afforded a unique opportunity. I was already in the Anathema's camp. I had to slay him if I could. Of course, I knew that would not be easy. The Faeslayer was one of the Forsaken, and they were notoriously difficult to kill.

Not for the first time, I cursed my luck. I'd known that Anathema were gathering around Nexus. Though no one could explain how such a thing was possible, the demons had dredged up an ancient city from the depths of the Yanaze River. The Faeslayer now ruled over it with his enormous horde of beastmen, bandits, and mercenaries. The power he wielded was so enormous that he even attracted traitors from the Blessed Isle. The Army of the New Deliberative scarcely ever moved, but it loomed like a thundercloud over all the Scavenger Lands.

Churning. Rumbling. Waiting.

To my surprise, the Anathema's soldiers treated me very well. No one in my retinue had been abused, and the food that we were all served morning and night was of such quality that I could scarcely believe that we were prisoners, and not honored guests.

The beastman led me in the direction of his master's tent. It looked exactly like the tent I had just left. The only sign that it belonged to someone of importance was a white banner hanging over the door. The golden sun symbol was unmistakable. More than a thousand years ago, the Anathema had ruled Creation, and they had left their mark all over it. I had seen that same heraldry on the pages of forbidden books, and on the crumbling walls of ancient ruins.

I considered it. Although I considered myself a dedicated student of history, I'd never actually met a demon before. Since my capture, I had seen the Faeslayer only once. From nearly a mile away, his blazing anima had convinced one of my less-Enlightened servants that the sun was rising two hours early.

The beastman did not step into the tent before me. He motioned for me to enter alone. I smoothed out my clothing as best as I could. I was Exalted by the grace of Sextis Jylis, a Prince of the Earth! I would not be afraid.

What I did see when my eyes adjusted to the ruddy lamplight of the Anathema's tent left me at a loss for words. Though the suit of ancient armor and the massive daiklave which rested in the corner left me no doubt as to the true nature of my jailer, the Anathema himself was hardly imposing, at least not in a physical sense. He was slightly taller than six feet with the build of a runner, lithe and strong without the bulk of too much muscle. His skin was deeply tanned from many hours spent outdoors and his fine blond hair was bleached white from the sun. He glanced up at me as I entered and I found myself staring at his striking blue eyes.

"Ah! You must be Tepet Genji!" The Anathema exclaimed, a smile on his face. He spoke High Realm without the distinctly provincial accent that I had become so accustomed to while traveling in the Scavenger Lands. Even knowing what he was, I found him very attractive.

"Tell me, how have my soldiers been treating you?" He pressed.

I averted my gaze. "What do you want from me?"

"I was about to explain," he replied, seeming distressed by my rude behavior. I ignored the chair meant for me and continued to stand a good distance away from him. It bothered me that the Anathema did not look down upon me as if I were an inferior being.

"Please, sit," he offered with the utmost civility, pouring me a goblet of the clearest water I had ever seen. That was when I noticed a familiar wooden chest on the desk before him, my writing box which contained all of my precious paper and inks.

"You'll find that everything is in order," the Anathema informed me. "I understand that you are searching for your mother's manse."

"I am," I nodded. My mother's letters were sitting in a neat stack next to my writing box. Although the Anathema had obviously read through them, he had also re-folded them individually and tied them back together with a piece of white ribbon. That implied message was obvious. Though the Faeslayer was a demon, he was not a barbarian.

"Tomorrow morning my men will return your weapons and your provisions. You and your servants are free to go," he finished.

"You're releasing me? As simple as that?" I stared at him in disbelief.

"I only held you to verify your story," he replied, gesturing to my mother's letters. His manner was extremely straightforward, not at all the kind of riddle-speak that demons were so famous for. I tested his words with a Charm and found them to be completely honest. Though I suspected the Anathema might have been able to manipulate even my best magic, I still felt compelled to say something.

"Thank you," I paused. As much as I wanted to hate him for what he was, I could not find the strength to do so. There was something in his demeanor which was so… likable! Damn it all, why wasn't he a loathsome monster?

"Though I would ask one small favor," the Anathema admitted.

Ahah! A catch! "What sort of favor?" I wondered, instantly on my guard.

"Nothing very important. I'd like you to write a letter for me," he said.

"Surely you could…" I began, certain that such a simple request would not come without unpleasant strings attached.

"Write it myself?" he suggested. "I will if I must. But my High Realm is a bit rusty."

His speech sounded so perfect that I wondered what other motivation he might have for making such a peculiar request. I tried my Charm again and learned only that he was nervous about the letter writing, though I still could not discern why. I sipped my water. As an Aspect of Wood, I'm immune to most poisons, and if the Anathema truly wished me dead, he might have killed me days ago. The water tasted as fresh as it appeared and the goblet he had poured it in was remarkable. I could not decide if it was made from crystal or silver, but it must have been terribly expensive.

"Also," the Faeslayer paused. "If I pen anything in my own hand, someone will use it to scry my whereabouts."

That excuse sounded much more reasonable.

"Well, if that is the price for my freedom, so be it!"

I slowly opened my writing box, taking out a thick sheet of white rice paper, a bottle of fine black ink, and a delicate, precise, brush. Calligraphy has always come naturally to me. Considering how he'd cared for my mother's letters and my writing box, I suspected that the Anathema was one of those rare men who actually appreciated such a skill.

"To whom should this letter of yours be addressed?" I asked.

"To the Dragonlord Cathak Chiron," the Faeslayer replied. "My father."

I immediately dropped my brush and stared in shock. Dynastic social circles were always full of rumors. Some claimed that the renowned Dragonlord Chiron had actually hidden an Anathema from the eyes of the Realm. It made sense to assume that the demon had taken on the form of someone dear to him. But his own son? My father would have killed to learn such a thing! It was bait that the Faeslayer was offering me!

Out of spite for my arrogant, backstabbing relatives, I decided I would not tell anyone. Or was it spite which made me wish to hold my tongue? Some of the things I had read in my mother's secret letters were troubling, and not for the first time, I found myself wondering how much I really knew about my own family. I drank down the water left in my glass. It made me feel a little better, but I was still nervous.

"More water?" The Faeslayer asked.

"Yes, please," I nodded.

He stood and went to a table in the corner of the room. For a moment, I considered attacking him from behind. I hesitated too long, and lost the opportune moment. I did not have a weapon, and from the way he moved, I feared that the Faeslayer would quickly overpower me if I tried to choke him. I was still sitting in my chair when the Anathema returned with a silver pitcher and a second goblet for himself. He filled mine first, and when he drank from his own, he never took his eyes off of me. He said nothing, but studied my expression with a slight smile. The longer I spent in his presence, the more at ease I felt. He was infuriatingly perfect! How appropriate that evil should be so alluring, so difficult to resist!

"These goblets of yours are beautiful. The craftsmanship is exquisite," I paused.

"My wife made them," the Faeslayer replied.

"Are they silver?" I asked.

"Essence," he corrected.

"Essence?" I blinked in surprise. "Very impressive!"

"She is an impressive woman," the Faeslayer replied.

"I imagine she must be," I watched the Faeslayer as he sipped his own water.

Such grace he possessed! And his eyes! They were blue, but they contained tiny, almost imperceptible flecks of gold. Dragons, who could not wish to look into them?

I feared for a moment that the demon was in my mind, putting thoughts in my head that were not my own. I pushed my chair further away from his desk.

"Please don't do that. It's disconcerting," I said.

"What is?" He raised an eyebrow in my direction.

"You, behaving like a Dynast," I paused.

The Faeslayer laughed. "My father is a Dragonlord! By birth and upbringing, I am a Dynast!"

I snorted.

He sighed. "I'm sure you think this is preposterous, but when I was a child, my nickname was "Little Monk". I begged my father to let me join the Immaculate Order! He sent me to Paisap's Stair instead. I suppose he hoped it would prove my blood."

Paisap's Stair was a notoriously dangerous school for the ill-bred and illegitimate. The instructors there were charged with pushing their pupils towards Enlightenment. Sometimes they managed to draw down the blessing of the Dragons. More often, their efforts proved fatal. Not that it mattered. If the child of a Dynast could not Exalt as a Prince of the Earth, he or she was worth nothing.

"Well, obviously, you didn't Exalt," I replied.

The Faeslayer smiled. "We Solars are Exalts, Genji."

I'd never heard anything more absurd, but I held my tongue.

"Use your Charms on me!" He volunteered. "I'm no monster. In fact, you and I are probably very much alike."

I did not believe him, of course. But I found that I wanted to.