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Nothing but a dead world floating in the shadow of hers.

Azlandia wasn’t meant to be Earth Realm’s filter. Her home wasn’t meant to take the pollution humans flung into the air — day after day, month after month, year after year — clean it, and return it to ensure humanity flourished.

Flying over the ocean, out in front of her guard, Lyonesse spotted the structure atop Eckizbad Island. Remote, surrounded by water, the prison rose like jagged teeth in the snarling mouth of an angry sea. Worry uncoiled inside her. Not good. Worse, in fact, than she’d first thought.

The prison sat apart — far from land — for good reason.

Reinforced with magic, it housed the worst of the worst: mages and monsters so vicious even in Azlandia (where magic was encouraged and the most horrendous creatures embraced), it wasn’t safe to allow any to roam free.

Her attention on the structure, she scanned open ground. Awash with light from eternal torches, the main courtyard was a flurry of activity.

The warden yelled out instructions.

Guards gathered into formation.

She dropped from the sky.

Her feet slammed into the ground. A ring of pink flame detonated around her. Dust blasted across the courtyard. Lyonesse controlled the magic, gathering the flames, drawing the tendrils to her before they incinerated the prison guards. With a flick, she folded her wings and turned to the Warden.

Her aura washed him in reddish-pink glow.

Out of breath, he hit one knee and bowed his head. “Your Majesty.”

She ignored his greeting. “What escaped?”

“The Wendigo, Majesty.”

Lyonesse snarled. “The doorway?”

“Still open,” he said, fear in his voice.

“Anckar.” Glancing over her shoulder, she found the commander of her personal guard. “Bring me the Slayer.”

Anckar’s blue wings fluttered, betraying his alarm. “Is that wise, my queen? He will not —”

“Bring. Him. To me,” she said, tone soft, expression hard.

He bowed his head. “As you wish.”

Yes. It would be… exactly howshe wished.

She knew the dangers.

The Slayer couldn’t be controlled.

A hybrid — half-Assenta (the hunter race on her world), half-Electi (a magic-wielder like her) — he was an abomination. An illegal aberration born of parents never meant to mate. Hierarchy was important to the continued success of society. The lines between different social classes must never be blurred. The intermingling of species and castes was strictly forbidden and brutally enforced. Why she’d allowed him to live, Lyonesse still didn’t know. Maybe for a time like this. Maybe so she could put all those animal instincts, the grotesque monstrosity of him, to good use.

Cold and dark, blood lust ran in his veins. Maybe that was the reason.

Like any well-trained circus animal, she enjoyed forcing him to do tricks. To dance to her tune, putting him in his place while he justified his continued existence.

Moving toward the heavy gates, she swept by the Warden.

He quivered.

She hid her disgust, mounted the wide, stone steps, and crossed beneath the portico. The doorway between worlds must be closed. But not yet. She had a little leeway. Very little, but still enough to correct the situation, and as she walked deeper into the prison toward the Wendigo’s cell, a plan formed. She would send the Slayer through theEcotoneinto Earth Realm: to recapture the Wendigo of course, but for another reason as well.

The last Door Master wasn’t dead. The threat hadn’t yet been extinguished.