Once upon an orbit of planet Fait, a playful young girl and her flustered yet resourceful single father must endure sickness, encounter exotic creatures, escape a predatory government, and outwit a wicked wizard to survive just one more day. Having...
Carried up and away on Shadowslider wings, Redemptor and Nariah flew up into the clouds. Somnos was turning his black cloak around, so the sky was fast returning from black night to violet-blue day.
The night's last blast of Mount Veda sent its blue lava streaming up through the sky, one of the arcs of blue lava screaming.
This blue arc of screaming fire contained General Gorchen and this screaming blue fireball, like a shooting star, streaked high above and across the Western Wilds, all the way to Tetrapolis, to North Tower, and crashing into the Jade Pyramid's capstone chamber, where all the dozens of the richest peoples of Tetrapolis stood around, assembled for the Black Banquet, before finally smashing to a flaming blue halt upon his black glass throne, smoking and still.
All the guild leaders and diplomats and Sirens standing around with their glasses stopped and stared at the throne. At the foot of the throne, Sylverella's silver slipper lay, shimmering on its side.
"Well, he's beyond fashionably late, but it's quite the entrance," Mandias said, taking a slurp of the red shake in her fancy cup. "And he's the only one in black, like he wanted. Charcoal, anyway."
The guests of the Black Banquet peered close at the throne, at the silver slipper on its side at the foot of the throne, at how it shimmered. They knew what today must be made to be.
***
While, as far as she knew, the other Sirens partied and danced high above in the Jade Pyramid's capstone chamber, Scythia was sitting in a booth at Takke Store, thinking about her choices in life. To any creatures eating breakfast who dared to steal a glance at her, she looked the picture of calm confidence and dangerous stillness.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Inside, however, told a different story. She was thinking of the Bird on Fire, a sylva story her sister used to tell her when they were children, and which Scythia had recently remembered. Maybe it was the fire she had ordered set to the Neath that had reminded her. She had always hated that story—so sad, that poor bird, and no one to help her, no one to solve her problem. Her sister had said that was not the point.
Perhaps what Scythia had always hated most about the Bird on Fire was what Scythia had always feared the most for herself—that she would end up alone, unloved, and ultimately forgotten. Was it too late for her to live the good life? To disappear from Tetrapolis forever and start anew somewhere else on Planet Fait? She'd always wondered about the good life in Vespus. Or maybe somewhere nice and cold, like Thule. After all, Nariah and Rene had made it out. That they could do it meant that escape from Tetrapolis was not impossible. If they could do it, why couldn't she?
Just then, the Sheriffa received an urgent summons on her uSee visor to report to the Jade Pyramid.
***
Accompanied by three Sirens, Scythia entered the capstone chamber of the Jade Pyramid, blaster in hand. Scythia expected to find all the richest, most important peoples of Tetrapolis assembled for their lord, yet the place was empty.
Instead, piled high before the throne slouched so many glamorous right shoes from so many lords' and ladies' feet.
The Sheriffa found the throne smoking and stinking of sulfur and charred lizard and covered her nose as she approached the steps, kicking aside the discarded shoes. She clicked her visor to enhance magnification, beholding the motionless figure of her master slumped on the throne.
Was he dead? Was at last the evil wizard defeated? What was this feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach? Perhaps she knew it once, and now, in this moment, perhaps it was returned to her. Was it hope?
His pinky finger twitched.
***
With the silver slipper in hand, the handsome Diplomat from Vespus stood at the hole in Gorchen's Gate, looking out to the black sands of the Western Wilds beyond. Very small, across a certain black dune, the Diplomat thought he could see Arachnor racing and free, and Sylverella riding its back. She was heading for her home—her true home—wherever that was.
The Diplomat smiled. He resolved that he would find her. He would bring back to its creator and mistress the silver slipper he now held tenderly in his hands and, if she would have him, he would love her the rest of his orbits.
