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I staggered back from the door, my heart no longer pounding but literally racing around my chest. All my survival instincts

were screaming at me to run, but in the tiny room, there was nowhere to go. Vahn blocked the door, and the windows were too

narrow for even me to slip through.

“You can relax, you know.” Vahn’s face still held that amused smile as he watched me; he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“I wish only to talk to you.”

“How are you here?” I hissed at him. “There’s no way you could have crossed the Dust Sea that quickly.”

“That would be true,” Vahn agreed, “if this wasn’t a dream. I just had to wait for you to fall asleep, which you finally did,

so thank you for that. It is far easier to control the environment this way. If I had arrived at your door in the middle of

the night in person, your assassin friend would not take that well.”

“Oh really? I wonder why.” Anger flared through me, a hot, burning rage.

Suddenly, everything I had been through crashed down on me all at once, searing and painful.

“Maybe because you summoned a literal god demon that destroyed our city and killed thousands of people,” I spat at the figure in the doorway.

“Maybe because you’ve been lying to me for seventeen years, and everything you’ve done has been to resurrect the Deathless King.

You sent me into a city crawling with monsters and curses to get that soulstone, you slaughtered Jeran in cold blood, and you were about to sacrifice me to your demon god!

Oh, and let’s not forget that abomination you sent after us, and the time you tried to sleepwalk me

off the side of a ship with one of these harmless little dreams. I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t like you,” I snarled at Vahn,

who remained stone-faced but silent. “I can’t imagine why I might be a little resentful. And I can’t imagine anything you could say that would make any of this better. But go ahead...”

I stepped back and waved a casual hand at him. “Please explain why you think all this death and chaos is justified.”

“The iylvahn has been lying to you,” Vahn said calmly. “He is not what you think, and he is taking you to his queen so that

she may use you to bring herself to power.” His eyes narrowed. “What have I told you about trust, Sparrow? It is a weakness

that will destroy you in the end. You trusted Jeran, and he betrayed you. You trusted me, and look what happened. The iylvahn

and his people will do the same.”

“He’s keeping me safe from you and the Circle,” I said, curling my lip at the Guildmaster. “He’s helping me stay alive. Every

night, I see the Circle in my dreams, chanting ‘Kill the Fateless, kill the Fateless.’ Every night, I watch you slice Jeran’s

throat open and realize it should’ve been me. Why shouldn’t I trust Raithe, if it keeps me safe from you and your Deathless

King?”

“You are being shortsighted.” Vahn gave me that look that said he thought I was being foolish. He paused a moment, then sighed

and turned away. “Walk with me a bit.”

He started down the hall, not looking back to see if I was following.

For a moment, I gritted my teeth and considered slamming the door on him, hoping it would wake me up.

But if I did, I wouldn’t know why he was here, what he wanted, or what he might know about Raithe and the iylvahn.

The Guildmaster might be a murderous, scheming, lying bastard, and I’d never trust him again, but he never did anything without purpose.

Stepping into the hall, I froze. Raithe sat across the corridor in a hard wooden chair, arms crossed, chin resting on his

chest. He wasn’t awake, but he wasn’t entirely asleep, either. I wondered what would happen if I shouted at him as loudly

as I could, right there in the hallway.

“He can’t hear you,” Vahn assured me. He looked at the dozing iylvahn, eyes narrowed, his anger toward Raithe peeking through.

“I realized that after you managed to escape the first dreamwalking, the iylvahn would probably take precautions against a

second attempt. To him, you are safely asleep in your room right now, so don’t worry. We won’t be interrupted by a vengeful

kahjai this time.”

With a last baleful glance at Raithe, Vahn turned and continued down the corridor. I set my jaw and stalked after him.

The temple was quiet as the two of us walked silently down the narrow passageways, passing closed doors on either side. No

one roamed the halls of the Temple of Fate; I wondered if it was this quiet in real life, or because Vahn wished it to be.

“The iylvahn is deceiving you,” Vahn said again. “Do not let yourself believe his reasons are altruistic. His queen wants you for the power you represent. She sacrifices her own people to keep herself alive. She will use you as well, make no mistake about that.”

My stomach turned, but I narrowed my eyes at my former Guildmaster. “How is that any worse than what you did?”

He stopped and turned on me, his expression intense. “I brought the king back to life because this world is dead,” he said

firmly. “We live in an empire of dust and ash, where nothing grows and all life shrivels away under the twins. It was different

when the kings ruled. The world was green, plentiful. No one questioned where they belonged. Everyone knew their place was

to serve the Deathless. This misbegotten faith in Maederyss grew out of the uncertainty of people not knowing their purpose

in life after the kings fell. Beliefs are fractured, and no one is certain of anything anymore. The Deathless King will put

an end to that uncertainty. He will unite everyone under a common banner once more.”

“Tyranny,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

Vahn’s lips tightened. “That kind of language is exactly how the wars first began,” he said. “Because a group of peasants

believed they deserved more. They betrayed their empire, deserted the king who gave them life, and sought sanctuary in another

king’s land. When the first king rightfully demanded that his people be returned, the other king refused. Thus, the War of

the Kings—and the end of the world—began. Because a handful of commoners did not know their place.”

“So is it my place to die?” I demanded. “Was it my place to stand there and let you slash a knife across my throat, like you did to Jeran? Sorry, I guess I ruined your entire plan when I didn’t let myself be murdered like I was supposed to.”

“Sparrow.” Vahn sighed, and one hand rose to rub his brow. For the first time, he seemed... remorseful. “I regret that

things happened the way they did,” he murmured. “I truly did not want any of those things for you. I wish the child I had

brought into the guild seventeen years ago could have been just that... a normal child. But you are the Fateless. Which

means you are a threat to the stability of the kingdom.” He dropped his arm, giving me a weary look. “I cannot ignore that,

no matter how much I wish it were not so.”

“I don’t even know what being Fateless means,” I said, frustrated once more. “Raithe won’t tell me. He said the queen will

have to explain it.”

“Because the iylvahn knows exactly what the Fateless is,” Vahn replied. “And if you realized it for yourself, you might change

your mind about everything.” He raised a questioning eyebrow, giving me a knowing look. “Do you wish me to tell you?” he asked.

“It might be less painful to remain ignorant.”

My heartbeat quickened. For a moment, I teetered like I was standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether I should take

the plunge. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the Guildmaster. “Tell me,” I said. “I want to know. What does being Fateless

mean?”

Vahn nodded, as if he’d known how I would answer.

“It means that your thread is not present in the Tapestry of the World,” he said.

“All souls have a story and a connection to the millions of other souls bound into the Weave. Their lives, their stories, are interwoven, entwined. If one thread unravels or is cut, it affects every other thread around it. Except for yours.” Vahn lifted his empty palms. “You do not have a thread. No one can trace your story. Maederyss herself is blind to your presence, because you are simply... not there.”

“But...” My thoughts were tangled again. I tried to follow what Vahn was saying, with little success. “I don’t understand.

That doesn’t make any sense—”

“Your thread is not present in the Weave,” Vahn continued ruthlessly. “Your fate cannot be determined. However, even though

they have no presence in the tapestry, the Fateless can affect the lives and threads of everyone they encounter. Shifting

them. Disrupting them. Or, in some cases, removing them entirely. The Fateless ignore prophecy. They cannot be controlled,

and they are shielded from the eyes of Fate itself. They are chaos incarnate, and because they exist, they can bring about

the fall of entire kingdoms.”

I swallowed hard, as my whole world seemed to be unraveling. “But if I don’t have a thread in the tapestry,” I began, as Vahn

raised an eyebrow, “how can I even exist? The threads represent everyone’s souls. Does that mean...”

“It has long been debated whether the Fateless are, in fact, soulless,” Vahn said bluntly. “How else could they hide their

presence from the goddess herself? The Fateless have no souls, and thus, no real concept of good and evil. Convenient for

them, as they cause chaos and misery wherever they go. Everyone who meets them, everyone they touch, is in danger of having

their fate unraveled.” Vahn fixed me with a piercing stare. “Perhaps it wasn’t Jeran’s fate to die on the altar,” he said. “But because he met you, events unfolded in a way no one could expect.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Don’t... don’t try to pin Jeran’s death on me. That was all you. You and the Circle.”

“Can you be certain?” Vahn’s voice was ruthlessly gentle. “How do you know it wasn’t your presence that doomed the boy from