55th of Season of Earth, Year 16 AL

  Greenthorn didn’t like it, but he had been outvoted during the council of exalts. He found it too risky to send two of their exalts and forty percent of their air fleet to collect the Palestalkers and the Grandfangs.

  True, they were both factions that had suffered from the cult attacks, and the imperials had sent them to the Summersweald as bait for the cultists along with Explorer’s Gate and the Swordpeaks, but the leaders of those houses were dead.

  True, their exalts still lived, and they were more important than nominal leadership, but that didn’t mean leaders were insignificant, or that they couldn’t betray their exalts in a bid for power and higher realms.

  “Why are we doing this?” he asked Patriarch Swordpeak.

  “We have little choice. The potential allies are invaluable, as are the resources they should bring along with them.”

  “What if it’s a trap?”

  “We flee and cut our losses. The loss of airships would be unfortunate, but they are far from crucial for us right now. Most of them spent fourteen years moored anyway, and the rest we only use to transport laborers twice a year. I wouldn’t call them a strategic resource.”

  Greenthorn remained silent. True, both of them were wind-attributed, and they were fast for their realm. But Patriarch Swordpeak was both faster and stronger. Greenthorn suspected that in the old patriarch’s eyes, he too was just an unfortunate loss, a sacrifice necessary for the more valuable patriarch’s survival.

  There were also layers upon layers of politics in the choice of exalts for the mission. If things succeeded, it was already Newstar’s success, so Greenthorn would gain little extra credit. Should they fail, should he die, Newstar would be without a master, and multiple figures would jump at the opportunity.

  It wasn’t like Greenthorn was doing any actual mentoring regarding Newstar’s realm. Greenthorn’s student’s aptitude made the partial overlap in their attributes nearly meaningless, and at most he could offer minor advice on perfecting flame-related techniques.

  Silence descended upon the two exalts sitting on the back of an airship whistling towards their destination. They would arrive in half an hour, and once they did, all masks would fall, and they would see where they stood.

  “You know,” Greenthorn said, thinking he might die soon. “Before Newstar walked into my life, I expected I would die of old age some thirty, forty thousand years from now. I thought I was in control of myself and thousands of others. How a single youth could slam a hammer into that mirror of illusion is a wonder.”

  Patriarch Swordpeak chuckled. He was old, with less than ten thousand years remaining, and he had ruled over millions. Greenthorn’s complaint must have felt like a child complaining to an adult.

  “Leave it to the young to make a mess of the lives of us old men.” He went silent for a moment, then continued after getting his thoughts in order. “You know, there is something wonderful about not having any control of your life. Especially when you have misplaced faith in those who do have control over it. It’s a kind of freedom. A freedom of the grave, but still a form of freedom. Not to mention it feels good not having to worry.”

  Greenthorn considered the words, looking for any hidden meaning. Aside from the obvious. Was he currently surrendering his free will to others? Technically, he was. The council had forced him into a position he didn’t want, but in cooperation with others, there had to be give and take, push and pull.

  No, he was firmly in charge of his own life, but if he wanted to be a part of a community, he needed to compromise. The only true freedom would be to abandon everyone and live in the weald alone, but even that wasn’t freedom; he wouldn’t be free to interact with others.

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  His mind delved down the paradoxical hole and explored its depth in the time a non-awakened person would have needed to ask, “What?”

  And he decided it was a bottomless pit of twisting, dubious logic. Freedom, true, absolute freedom didn’t exist. Or if it did, it was outside his reach. Instead, he found another statement buried in the old patriarch’s words.

  “Do you mean to say you have no freedom?”

  The exalt smiled and said nothing.

  Greenthorn waited another blink, then focused on his own thoughts. How best to survive what could devolve into a trap? Exalts were notoriously difficult to kill. He only knew of a few events in which exalts fell, and both sides paid the price. One was obviously the Sages’ Association uprising, but it was impossible to tell how much of that questionable story was true.

  The other one was the legend of the emperor fighting an invading saurian exalt, with both sides perishing in the battle. And while it was difficult to tell how true that story was, there was no doubt at least two exalts perished in that fight.

  Instead of helping himself, Greenthorn just summoned more thoughts about his own mortality.

  He glanced at Patriarch Swordpeak, but the old exalt had a content, mysterious face Greenthorn was certain he had never managed to pull off perfectly, no matter how many times he had tried.

  Greenthorn spent the rest of his time scanning the forest with his mana sense, searching for the trap he had expected, but he found no hints of it even as the forces of two ducal houses came into the range of his senses.

  He wanted to comment more than once, but held his tongue. Finally, Patriarch Swordpeak broke the silence. “I sense nothing amiss.”

  “Me neither. There should be two exalts and five at the ninth realm in the group ahead.”

  Swordpeak nodded.

  Greenthorn thought the lineup was a good sign. It was possible Newstar’s amateurish dabble in diplomacy actually yielded proper, willing allies.

  The Grandfang and Palestalker exalts noticed them too, and accompanied by their eight and ninth realm subordinates, floated into the air and above the canopy to greet Greenthorn and Swordpeak. A moment later, Greenthorn and Swordpeak were flying towards them.

  “Lord Swordpeak, Lord Greenthorn,” the exalts nodded, while the rest offered polite bows. “Thank you for coming to escort us to your domain personally.”

  “Lord Grandfang, Lord Palestalker,” Swordpeak said as he and Greenthorn returned the nods of recognition. “It’s good to see you safe and in good health. Newstar Salamandra informed us of your plight and of your decision to flee from imperial oppression.”

  “They were planning to kill us all, what else could we do?” Patriarch Palestalker snorted. His skin, hair, and eyes would’ve seen him accused as a cultist, perhaps even his entire family, had they not spent generations championing the imperial family’s cause and spearheading the attacks against the cults.

  “The empire is in chaos right now,” Grandfang said. “I take it you’ve pulled out of the conflict with the cultists and you will strike at the surviving side once they have weakened themselves in internal conflict?”

  “Actually, no,” Patriarch Swordpeak admitted. “Both sides wish to destroy this world, as I’m sure you all know, so even if they reach a peaceful resolution and start working together, we will still have to fight them at some point in the future.”

  Palestalker nodded, but Grandfang raised an eyebrow. “But if those two forces unite, they will outnumber you at least ten to one in exalts alone. Isn’t resistance foolish?”

  “Not at all, if we successfully bring the saurian exalts to our side.”

  Grandfang frowned. “And how do you plan to do something like that? There’s no doubt they are intelligent, or at least have a high level of animal cunning, but there’s no reaching an agreement with them.”

  Patriarch Swordpeak wasn’t offended, and Greenthorn understood. Had someone come to his home and told him they could talk to the saurians before Newstar, he wouldn’t have believed them either.

  “And yet, we’re paying rent to one to live in her domain,” Patriarch Swordpeak said calmly. “If that impossible step was possible, drawing them towards our cause should also be possible.”

  Laughter echoed all around the jungle at those words.

  “Now, that’s the kind of optimism I never expected to hear from Windcutter Swordpeak, and I’ve known you since you were a youth. And that’s coming from a man who expected you would betray my family.”

  A force of four exalts and sixty ninth realm men and women rose into the air, blocking Greenthorn’s and Swordpeak’s escape. Greenthorn’s eyes went wide when he recognized the old man leading the group.

  “Lord Grand Scholar,” Patriarch Swordpeak offered a polite bow. “I never expected the head of heresy hunters would come after us in person.”

  ?? Even gods need to be held sometimes

  What to Expect:

  - An epic, multi-book space opera with a large found family and multiple POVs.

  - A powerful but emotionally vulnerable protagonist with chaotic powers he struggles to control.

  - Strong, capable, and sometimes morally gray women.

  - High stakes, cosmic threats, and detailed world-building.

  What NOT to Expect:

  - LitRPG/System elements

  - Lone wolf power fantasy

  - A story that is only about romance

  This story contains mature themes, explicit sexual content, and graphic violence. It is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.

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