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W ITH RELIEF , N YX heard Graylin call to the group waiting in the tunnel. She let out a breath she had not known she’d been holding. It must be safe for them to proceed. Still, Graylin’s voice rang with a familiar steel of alarm.

Something was amiss.

She hurried with Daal, trailed by Vikas. Only Kalder beat them to the glowing end of the tunnel. Rhaif and the rest of Darant’s men crowded behind them.

They followed the vargr out onto a landing of copper. The rough men from the ship gasped in shock at the massive copper dome, shimmering and jolting with brilliant bolts of power. Rhaif swore, having seen its like before, as had Daal, who simply grimaced.

Within a few steps, Nyx’s limbs went cold. Her breath clutched in her throat. She fell back to when she had last entered a dome like this. Sounds of battle echoed through her. The clash of steel, the boom of cannons high above. She touched her chest, still feeling the thump of those blasts. But overlying it all was a sound she had heard only a short time ago: the raging bellow of Kalyx. It was in such a place she had slit Bashaliia’s throat and delivered her brother into that tortured body.

She found herself unable to move.

Then Daal reached her, hovering a hand, then touching her arm. After Nyx removed the golden key from him, he had little power left in his wellspring, just a trickle. Still, his touch was like fire, burning away the past from her body. This came from no bridling gift but simply his presence, the concern shining in his face.

She nodded. “I’m all right.”

It was a lie, but it served well enough to get her moving.

Before she could, Jace shouted to their group, “Get down!”

From out of the dome, wings dove at their group. A sharp keening washed over them, driving everyone lower. Only Nyx remained standing. She sensed no fury, just a warning in that cry. As the bat blazed toward them, it trailed emerald fire, but she caught the barest glimmer of gold, too. The sight lifted her hand up. Her fingertips brushed the mankra’s wing as it skimmed over and shot down the tunnel.

She stared after it, noting again the trail of gold amidst the flames.

“Nineteen,” Daal said, adding to his ongoing count of the mankrae.

Jace stood back up. “One more to help revive the colony.”

As the wraith vanished into the dark, Nyx took the trace of gold to heart, praying it did indeed reflect a final gift of their king, an offering of peace that had never been afforded them.

Halfway down a ramp to the left, Gray called to them. “Let’s get moving!”

He split their group, leaving a man to guard the tunnel, then sent the rest of Darant’s crew down the ramp to the right, to spread their eyes and swords. He ordered them to guard the seven passageways that branched off from the dome. He wanted all entry points watched in case any ta’wyn should try to ambush them.

“With me,” he ordered everyone else.

Shiya had already reached the base of the ramp and waited. A deep line of worry creased her brow.

Nyx headed down. After the debilitating flash of last winter’s battle, the humming silence of this place unnerved her. It felt like a tomb, one ancient and haunted. This was amplified by what clearly had dismayed Graylin and Shiya.

While descending the ramp, Nyx had a full view of the strange encrustations that had grown and spread across the dome’s copper floor. It looked like a tortured forest had sprouted from the metal, all brambly and malignant. The seed for this growth rose from the center of the dome, where the thicket gathered into a giant hillock.

Nyx knew what lay beneath it, what formed that seed.

The turubya.

Even the nature of the forest supported this assumption. Rather than bark and leaf, this malignant wilderness had been crafted of shining crystal, faceted and glinting.

She had seen these trunks and branches before.

Daal had, too. “It’s like the ?rgos forest.”

Nyx shook her head, vehemently denying this. “It’s nothing like that.”

She rushed down the last of the ramp, joining Graylin and Shiya at the bottom.

As the group gathered there, Nyx searched around. One of the massive tunnels snaked off to her left. The towering rubber conduit inside thrummed with power, vibrating and tremoring the floor. In the Frozen Wastes, similar cables had fed the turubya. Back then, she had compared them to the tentacles of the Oshkapeers, the Dreamers of the Deep back at the Crèche. Only now she pictured them as the black roots of this mountain, sapping the energy from the world’s core to fuel the Urth’s only hope.

She stared over at the forest.

But what are they feeding now?

Graylin must have had the same worry. “We must strike for the turubya through this tangle. Find out what’s been done to it.”

As they set off across the vast copper floor toward the malignant tree line, Nyx noted the remains of ta’wyn dotting the floor. These few—like the others—were all Roots, the caste known for their crafty labors and unique designs. Over the passing millennia, they had clearly begun a malicious undertaking here.

Like Nyx, Daal remembered the earlier warning from the bronze queen. “Back in the caves, the Dr?shra mentioned the ta’wyn had been laboring on some scheme, to thwart her control. It’s one of the reasons she broke away. She feared it might damage the turubya. ”

Nyx quoted the queen’s final concern. “And may have done so already.”

“But what have they done?” Krysh asked. “What is the purpose of all this?”

By now, they had reached the forest’s fringes. The differences between this tumorous growth and the ?rgos stood out starkly. Out under the sun, the crystals of the ?rgos forest had shimmered in a radiant splendor, a prismatic scintillation of every hue, breaking each beam of sunlight into a thousand spectrums.

Here, the tangled branches were made of the same crystals, but they had darkened to an amber hue. Rather than reflecting the light, the facets appeared to consume the dome’s glow, absorbing its energy. What did reflect out looked more like a refraction of shadows, casting dark spectrums that further ate the light.

Nyx had a hard time looking at the forest, at beauty corrupted into malignancy. Still, she had to face it. She gathered her small reserves of bridle-song and sang it out into the dark glade. Golden strands wafted forth. She followed them with her spirit, passing through crystal. As she probed deeper, she touched the slither and squirm at the core of each branch and stem.

She gasped and stumbled back.

Jace caught her. “What’s wrong?”

“It… It’s alive.” She pointed ahead. “Like the ?rgos. Rife with the same frilled animals.”

She fortified herself and tried again. She limited her reach to a few golden strands, tightening her throat to polish them brighter, to act as a shield against what hid behind the dark crystal. She cast out those strands, along with her essence, and streamed past the facets to touch what squirmed beneath.

The tiny creatures of the ?rgos had shone with gold, their bodies pure, nearly all song and little substance. But what she touched had darkened into a cancerous rot, forced to exist. Their song had not gone emerald but was the black of a pit, the scream of the endlessly tortured.

She shuddered and pulled away, too horrified to look deeper.

As she withdrew, a chiming rose from the forest. It rang with a dissonant note, like at the ?rgos, but these chimes did not warn of approaching danger. They hissed with a dark lust, as if craving more power than the dome could provide.

“We shouldn’t go in there,” Nyx warned.

“We must.” Graylin stared toward the encrusted hillock. “To discover the fate of the turubya. ”

She knew this to be true. Still, she balked. It took several breaths to push down her dread. But she finally nodded.

By now, Jace and Krysh had slipped forward and examined the forest themselves.

Jace called over. “It’s densely tangled, but we should be able to work our way through.” He hefted his ax higher on his shoulder. “Or we can forge our own path.”

Graylin urged caution. “Until we understand what this all means, we disturb as little as possible.”

Krysh squeaked and fell away from the forest. He shook a finger that had already begun to redden. “Take care. The crystal stings with an awful burn.”

Graylin took heed of this warning. “Cover any exposed skin as best you can.” He eyed Vikas’s large shape, recognizing it would be an agonizing trek for her to cross this dense burning forest. “Maybe you’d best wait here. Stay with Kalder. This is a forest he will not want to hunt.”

That was clear enough as the vargr hung back with his head low, his eyes dark with worry. Kalder needed no bridle-song to sense the menace of this dark wood.

With matters settled and no better advice, they set off into the forest.

A FTER AN INTERMINABLE time of twisting and bowing, Nyx grew exhausted, taxed to her limit. She took great care with each step and every bend. She feared less the sting of the crystal and more what lurked beneath it.

Still, the burn of the crystal seemed bad enough. Yelps and gasps spread throughout their beleaguered group.

Daal got stung and bumped into her. His panic seemed worse than just pain.

She turned to him. “What’s wrong?”

He pointed warily at the offending branch. “When it burned, it wasn’t the heat of fire. But ice. As it struck, I felt it leach a bit of bridle-song from me, ripping it out with a touch of frost.”

Nyx looked to the others for any guidance. She wasn’t about to test this herself, but she recalled the lust heard in those chimes.

Jace shrugged. “I’ve not been stung yet. And I don’t plan to be.”

Krysh held up the finger, the one that had touched a stem. It had already blistered badly. “All I felt was intense heat. Not ice.”

The explanation came from the one who should have worried the least. Shiya had no exposed skin that needed covering. Still, Nyx had noted her squirming through as much as anyone.

“The malignancy here seems designed to sap bridle-song,” she said. “Each sting pinches synmeld from me.”

Nyx grew more worried. The Roots had no talent in bridle-song, so this forest would not harm them in this manner, but it would be anathema to anyone like Nyx or Daal, and especially an Axis.

Nyx swung her gaze forward, ducking from a twisted branch. “It’s like this forest has been grown as a barrier to keep any Axis from reaching the turubya. To sap the synmeld from them before they can become a key to triggering the turubya. ”

Graylin pointed hard at Shiya. “Then tread with great care.”

She nodded—much depended on her.

They forged onward, trailed by that ominous chiming, cloaked by the refracted gloom of the forest.

As they continued, Nyx noted something else odd about the forest. Focused on keeping clear of the branches, she had failed to notice the base of the trunks entangled by threads of metal. They climbed to hip height and ran across the copper floor, like tiny rootlets connecting this wilderness into a whole.

Nyx leaned closer.

“These fibrils are all bronze,” Jace noted with a worried catch in his voice.

Krysh nodded. “I think the purpose of this forest goes beyond creating a barrier to anyone bearing bridle-song or synmeld. ”

“But what could that be?” Nyx asked.

Krysh shook his head, his face blistered in several spots.

Jace shrugged. “Maybe we’ll find out ahead.”

As they continued, Nyx knew this question wasn’t the only mystery to be addressed. After an interminable period, the forest thinned, then finally broke. They all stumbled into a clearing, exhausted and burned.

“We made it,” Jace gasped out. His pale face shone with sweat, but at least he managed to escape the forest unscathed.

Nyx felt no relief, not with the obstacle rising ahead of them. Even from twenty steps away, she had to crane her neck to take in the full majesty of the turubya. The crystal sphere was so massive it would take two dozen men with linked arms to circle its equator. Half of its globe hung inside the pit, suspended by copper rigging. The upper hemisphere stretched high above. The forest writhed across it, forming a roof that spanned it completely, entombing the turubya below.

Still, they all recognized a bit of providence.

Nyx sighed out her relief. “The turubya looks untouched. No different from the sphere we triggered in the Frozen Wastes.”

To be certain of this, the group slowly circled it, studying the sphere more closely. Nyx eyed the copper bands across its surface, the finer wires that formed a pattern that looked like the scribblings of a mad alchymist.

Same as before.

Jace studied the bridged rigging that suspended the sphere. Graylin crossed closer and peered over the edge into the pit.

Nyx had no desire to get closer. She already knew what lay below: a bottomless hole drilled deep. A series of doors lined the shaft, ready to slam closed once the turubya was dropped.

Keeping her eyes away from the hole, Nyx focused on the gyrating mass of gold that pulsed at the core of the crystal. It was a shining sea that swam and swirled with the stored energies trapped by the copper dome.

The sphere, while massive, looked similar in design to the crystalline cube inside Shiya, a device strong enough to sustain her bronze form over millennia. And her cube was only the size of a fist.

Nyx gaped at the enormity before her, knowing it held the power to move a world. Unable to face it any longer, she turned to Shiya. She had wandered away from the turubya and had been searching the forest’s edge with Rhaif.

The pair returned to the group, both their faces grim.

“What is it?” Graylin asked.

Rhaif scowled. “These Roots were taking no chances.” He stared back at the dark wood. “They weren’t solely counting on the forest to sap an Axis to depletion, to thwart their ability to prime the turubya. The Roots had taken one additional measure.”

“What?” Nyx asked.

Shiya answered, “They removed the activation chrysalis.”

Rhaif nodded. “It’s gone.”

Nyx searched around, as if she could miraculously spot it. She pictured Shiya placing her body in the copper chamber in the Wastes’ dome. Crystal doors had closed over her, cocooning her. Only an Axis could use such a chrysalis chamber to trigger the turubya.

“By removing it,” Shiya said, “the Roots have effectively crippled the turubya. ”

“Unless we find where they hid it,” Rhaif said.

Graylin stared off, likely picturing the massive tunnels, imagining the sheer magnitude of this facility. “It could take a lifetime to search this place.”

Rhaif shrugged. “Then, unless you have something better to do, we’d better get started.”

Nyx shook her head. “Removing the chrysalis makes no sense. We know the Roots went through great effort. A process that still requires ongoing attention. They clearly need workers, raw ore, even fresh cuttings from ?rgos to sustain this forest, to continue to garden it. The Roots wouldn’t do that unless they had some other scheme in mind.”

“What scheme?” Rhaif asked.

“Maybe they wanted to wrest control of the turubya and take it for themselves. Remember, the Spider in the Frozen Wastes had entertained doing this himself, but he was out there alone. He didn’t have an army.”

They all turned to Shiya.

“That may be true,” she concurred.

“So we need a Root.” Rhaif sighed. “Too bad we destroyed them all.”

A call rose from around a curve of the clearing.

“Over here!” Jace shouted. “Come see this!”

Dejected and worried, they all headed his way. As Nyx rounded the shoulder of the turubya, she spotted Krysh kneeling at the forest’s edge.

Jace waved them closer. “We may have solved one mystery.”

Krysh stood and backed away so they all could peer into the forest’s fringes. Buried at the edge of the bower, tendrils of bronze rose up in a tangled wave, merging into a single mass. It formed a towering clamshell that faced the crystal sphere.

“What is that?” Daal asked.

Krysh rubbed his chin, careful of his blisters. “I believe this is where all those filamentous strands of the forest come together as one. This is what the entire forest is meant to fuel.”

“To what end?” Graylin asked.

Nyx suspected the answer. “This must be the Roots’ new activation bed. Something forged from their ingenuity over many millennia.”

Rhaif scowled. “So the bastards figured it out. They’ve taken control of the turubya. ”

“No,” Shiya said. “We are wrong.”

“About what?” Graylin asked.

Shiya faced them. “The Roots didn’t take control. They passed it on.”

Nyx frowned. “What do you mean? How do you know that?”

Shiya pointed to the clamshell’s top, to where cryptic writing had been inscribed onto a plate of bronze. “It was more than ingenuity that drove the Roots to this task, but also reverence. ”

Graylin squinted at the inscription. “What does it say?”

“It is a title. In the Elder tongue. Written in ta’wyn script.” Shiya stared over at them and spoke the name aloud. “Rab’almat.”

Nyx staggered back. “Lord of Death.”

“The name the Revn-kree chose for their leader.” Shiya stared across the group. “That is whom the Roots tooled this bed for. The only one who can activate this turubya now.”

Nyx despaired. “Eligor.”