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“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Aneirin said. “To finally be sitting across from the last living time mage, why… Look at you!”

His smile was carved for charm, broad and effortless, as if he were delighted by the sight of her. “I can see now what all the fuss is about. Why, you couldn’t be more perfect if you were designed.”

A snap of his fingers summoned Luck, who placed a glass of clear, bubbly liquid in his hand.

“Luck, liven this place up—get some people in here. There’s nothing more tragic than an empty tavern.”

The change was instant.

Laughter. Voices. Warm bodies filling the space. In a blink, the tavern was full.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Aneirin said. “There were others who wanted to witness this auspicious occasion.”

Taly stiffened, taking it all in. The crowd pressed in—not physically, yet close enough to smother.

They drifted like shadows, existing both in the room and somewhere beyond it.

Moving without weight, their fine robes trailed like mist over the polished floor.

Jewels glimmered softly in their hair, around their necks, on their fingers, their sparkle muted and distant—stars glimpsed through fog.

Other dreamers, she realized, drawn in to watch the show.

Masks hid their faces—animals and birds cast in gold. Some had smiles carved into the metal. She couldn’t tell if it was meant to welcome her or mock her. Maybe both.

Taly felt Luck’s eyes on her again. The girl smirked, unspoken words loud in the space between them.

Look at what I can do.

Aneirin leaned back, admiring the illusion. “This tavern has a rich history,” he said. “It’s seen the rise and fall of empires, the clash of magic and technology, the ebb and flow of power. You know, this is where High Lord Valerian ended his reign.”

It appeared out of nowhere as things so often did in dreams. Patrons parted down the middle as a long, shimmering table materialized, figures gathered around it. Their faces glowed with an eerie, silvery light. At one end, a man pulled a crown from his head and set it down, as if to say: I’m done.

“And in that corner there—” Aneirin gestured to where a willowy Fey woman took shape, hunched over a table.

The crowd gave her space. “That’s where Archmagus Elowen discovered portal theory over a pot of Earl Grey.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel the energies that moved through these rooms, shaping the world.

I figured what better place to cement our alliance. ”

A second glass appeared in front of her, identical to his. Taly lifted it, sniffing delicately. Champagne . The expensive kind, imported from the human realm that bore the same name.

It smelled real. Not dream-real, not close-enough— real . Like petrichor after a summer rain and briny sea air. The kind of scent that hit memory before it hit the nose.

Who the hell was this kid? How was she doing this?

Taly took a sip. Shards, it even tasted real. “Astral White Gold. Classy.”

At 200 gold coins per glass, it was one of the most expensive champagnes in the world. She’d only ever tasted it one other time. Skye’s family had a beach house in Marin with an extensive wine cellar.

“I knew you’d notice,” Aneirin said, raising his glass. “Wouldn’t want to offend someone with a palate like yours. I hear it runs in the family.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Taly’s brows narrowed. “Why am I here?”

“To have a conversation. Nothing more.” He set his glass down. “You know very little about me, I know. And that’s by design—I’ve been careful about my dealings until now. I am, how should I put this, the figurehead of a coalition of individuals with mutual interests.”

A gesture to the room.

“Our quarrel is not with you,” he assured her. “This island is to me what it has always been since the Fey first stepped foot on its gloomy, hostile shores—merely a waypoint to somewhere else.”

“The human realm,” Taly said. With the Seren Gate down, it was the only place left to go.

“Indeed. And like you, I’m stuck here. Waiting for the Aion Gate to open.

Hoping that your Marquess manages to forge the crossing.

He doesn’t always hit the mark, you know.

What was it—60 years ago?” he asked the crowd.

“He almost got there and then, right at the final moment, let it slip. A third of Lycian trade flows through Aion. Goods were left to rot, deals fell through, businesses went under. Complete economic disaster.”

Around the room, heads shook in disapproval.

“It wasn’t his fault, of course. No matter what his critics might say.

Without a time mage, opening a Gate is… well, it’s a bit like trying to thread a needle from a moving carriage—delicate, maddening, and nigh on impossible.

Which is why I’m certain you can appreciate how perfectly timed your arrival has been.

As if by divine providence, a blessing from the almighty Magnus himself to help us forge our righteous path. ”

A hush rolled through the gathering, rising and falling like a whispered amen . Heads tilted in quiet reverence.

“We were meant to come together.” His voice softened, warm, inviting. “I have no doubt that with you by my side, I will reach my destination. I happen to be a bit of an expert on the Gates.”

Luck, ever the loyal henchman, topped off his glass. “Don’t be modest, boss. He knows everything. Like everything about the Gates. It’s insane.”

Aneirin chuckled, pleased. “It’s true.” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the table.

The shift was subtle, practiced—like a spider settling at the edge of its web.

“Together, Talya, we will open the Aion Gate. And then I give you my solemn vow—I’ll go.

I’ll take my army, and I’ll even let you play the vanquishing hero.

We’ll put on a show. You’ll kick me off the island, win yourself a bit of goodwill.

I can only assume you understand the dangers to your life now that you’ve come into your power.

Take it from me, a little goodwill is a fine thing to have when there’s a sword hanging over your head. ”

It was an offer—a good offer. On its face.

Taly sat with it for a moment, turning it over in her mind. Testing its shape, its weight.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” she said finally.

“By all means.”

“Why Earth? It has none of its own magic. There’s nothing valuable there.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. Earth has an immense resource— humanity .

” His expression brightened as he leaned back.

“In only a handful of millennia, their population has grown exponentially. Their world is collapsing beneath the strain. And while they may not typically have magic like you and I, there is strength in numbers.”

The realization clanged through her. “You’re building an army.”

He didn’t even try to deny it.

“Don’t get me wrong, shades are fantastically lethal.

” He swirled his drink, watching the bubbles rise.

“But they decay so quickly. This humidity, alone— gods . I’ve lost nearly as many recruits to rot as I’ve been able to enlist.” He gave a gracious little shrug, as if discussing an inconvenient business expense.

“But humans .” He tapped a finger against the rim of his glass, eyes glinting. “Even if I recruit only a quarter of their population, that’s more boots on the ground than even Ghislain could muster. And they re-populate. Truly, they breed like rabbits.”

There was something almost proud in his expression, a satisfaction that twisted Taly’s stomach. He reveled in it—the potential for so much suffering.

“And who exactly do you plan to fight with this army?” she asked.

“My quarrel is not with you.”

“But is it on Earth?”

“It is a family matter.”

“ But is it on Earth? ”

Silence.

And there was her answer.

He would take his armies and go, but not forever. One day, he’d come pillaging his way back through, and Tempris would be on the frontline of whatever war he was waging.

“I am waging a war—that’s true,” he said, plucking the words right from her head. “Long ago, my siblings delivered unto me a great injustice, and now I’m going to return the favor. Collateral damage is… an unfortunate consequence of any conflict.”

Taly barked a laugh. “Is that all we are to you? All those people you killed— my people. Just collateral damage?”

“Well, no. Not all of them.” He considered for a moment, then nodded.

“The intensity of the first incursion was decidedly deliberate. I needed bodies. Soldiers. While only a handful were required to take this island, to establish a foothold in my brother’s realm—well, that’s going to require more . ”

Taly’s stomach twisted. Not just at what he’d done, but at how little he cared. “Oh, well, as long as you meant to do it. That makes it all better.”

Aneirin tilted his head, watching her with something like amusement. “Do you mourn every blade of grass that’s crushed underfoot, Talya?” His voice was curious. “Because that’s all this is. People live. They die. It’s nature. Insignificant in the grand scheme.”

A pause. A sip. A perfectly measured look across the table. “At least, I gave their death purpose. In my army, they’ll serve a cause greater than their lives ever could’ve been.”

Taly held his gaze. Across the table, across the wreckage of everything he’d taken.

“Fine, if it really bothers you so much…” He exhaled.

Thought for a moment. “All right, how about this—this island has always belonged to the time mages. I’m willing to honor that authority.

Take it for yourself. I’ll help you.” He gestured broadly.

“And at the end of a short and decisive battle, I will declare you a new Queen of Ages. We will be allies, and as such, the next time my armies pass through your territory, we may do it peacefully. There will be no need for further violence.”

Violence.

The word was too small. Too ordinary, too mundane to bear the weight of what he’d done.