Erik ended his shift exhausted, handing off his position back to Bryan without a second thought after the man returned twelve hours later—plus some time in revenge for Erik's own lateness, of course. Erik's feet were like lead weights as he climbed onto the shuttle that waited at the base to take the shift back to the barracks.

  The long slipship hummed as more and more people filed in, and Erik had to scoot over on his bench a few times to accommodate more space. By the end, they were stacked on each other, and the ship finally took off. The slipship was long and hung low in the sky from the entrance to the base. It was a wooden construction with the pilot's seat at the front and small light sails along its side to accommodate the open space on top.

  Hrrm.

  Erik had a moment to glance at the entirety of Tartarus before the slipship peeled away and down toward the barracks below. The entire area was like a massive stone hump on the edge of the island, a dome that had been built by the hands of the Scions if the rumors were true. The dome was made of thick stone, and steel lined the halls of the base internally.

  It was a marvel of Scionic power and cast Aherlow in a massive shadow as the sun rose east of the base. Erik grabbed onto one of the many handles as the ship turned away from the base and banked down to the barracks below. He didn't like to think about the size of the base, nor did he like to think about the number of guns that happened to be pointed at Aherlow. It made a statement that he didn't like.

  The ship shook as it came in for a landing at the stop located at the barrack's edge. Sildier's filed out ahead of Erik, but Erik only sat still in his seat for the moment. It was like all the joy was draining out of him. In and out, that was his day-to-day life. Despite his two encounters with the upper ranks yesterday, the day had ended the same way it always had.

  He didn't want to say it, but he was in a rut.

  Honk.

  From the front seat, the driver pulled on his horn, which shook Erik awake. Erik pushed himself up mechanically from the seat, forcing his feet one after another until he reached the stairs. He crunched down on the ground, and the ship took off behind him, ready to get another salvo of soldiers from the base.

  "Ah," Erik shook his head, remembering where he was and what he needed to do. "I need to go check on Klaus."

  That put a spring in his step. He started off in a jog, his boots crunching on the gravel as he steadily picked his path back to the house. Klaus would have slept the night away, and Eric would need to take him to the mess hall soon before he got the kid to school. The rut was gone, and his mind was focused again.

  Even he had to admit that Klaus was the best thing that had happened to him, despite the circumstances at Cragg Hollow.

  However, when he finally reached his home, something was not right. The lamps were lit near the window, and he didn't think Klaus would have gone to bed without putting them out. Their ritual was consistent for a reason; it gave Klaus an anchor in a world that didn't always make sense.

  Erik searched the windows and checked the sides, but he couldn't see anything else that was off. There were no broken windows, no scrape marks from a forced door, and the house was just dark and quiet. A stone sank in Erik's stomach as he debated what to do.

  It wasn't like he couldn't go in. He would need to go into the house at some point. If Klaus was in there and something was wrong, he should rush in anyway. However, that didn't change the fear that welled up inside his belly. That didn't stop the flash of a creature with an alabaster shell, claws, and writhing tentacles.

  "Push ahead, soldier," he whispered, putting his hand on the door handle and turning it to open.

  Creak.

  He had expected it to be locked, but it wasn't. It turned easily in his hand and opened out into the home with only a little complaint. The room in front of him was completely dark, the main room covered with shadows except by the moonlight coming from the door. Again, memories of that mist-covered town clawed at Erik's mind.

  He pushed forward despite it all. He was Private Landson of the Military Police. He was a man, and his job was to protect people like Klaus, the victims of the world's chaos. He reached to the side of the entrance and found where the first lamp of the house hung. He quickly lit a match from its reserve and lit the wick. An orange glow permeated the room, and Erik took hold of the lamp's handle as he peered out into the diminishing darkness.

  "Klaus?" he felt like his voice should have echoed in the house's cavernous silence.

  Three figures were seated in the dim light on the couch and chair by the fire—his chair by the fire. Erik couldn't see them clearly in the light from the lamp alone, but he knew they shouldn't be there. At first, he thought his eyes might be playing a trick on him, but when he blinked, they were still there."

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  "Whoever you are, you need to leave," his voice shook as he held the lamp higher, clenching his fist with his free hand. "I'm warning you. We don't take nicely to criminals on the base!"

  The figures didn't flinch, and Erik bit his lip. He was about to rush out the door and call an alarm when one of the figures stood up, the one sitting in his chair, and approached the light slowly. A brown-skinned man with black hair and calm brown eyes stepped into the light, dressed in a long black jacket with a simple shirt and pants beneath it. A growth of fuzz covered his face, but Erik recognized the man. He wasn't sure how he couldn't after he looked up the people who had saved him and Klaus in Cragg Hollow.

  Alexander 'Tin Man' Ortega stood in the orange light of his lantern, smiling as he waved at Erik.

  "Hey," he said. "Sorry to be a surprise, but we need to ask a favor."

  ***

  Pssh. Click.

  Commander Bradley Milton waited for the door to close and seal itself tight before he flipped on the lights in the room. A long line of lights lit up throughout the square room along the ground and at the ceiling. The room was a simple construction of black stone, and when he entered it, all his sense of the Path of Will faded completely. His muscles relaxed, and he remembered what it felt like to be human.

  There were no aetheric powers allowed in the room. Instead, wires ran up to screens that lined the wall, powered with shielded cords that protected the energy flow from seeing stones that filled every room of the base and the surrounding island. Wire not wrapped tightly in that cord would soon fizzle out and die. It was a safe room from all curses that might try to see inside. Along the bottom of the screens were several consoles, each with a series of buttons controlling the screens. Two soldiers operated the consoles, their backs straight in their chairs as they flipped through images.

  They didn't respond to the men's approach, just as they were trained to do. Their only mission was to scan the images for threats. While it was less automated than Milton liked, he had yet to find a way to look through all the images personally. That was why each shift was watched by at least two soldiers, and the shifts were randomized to keep them from becoming too familiar.

  He couldn't completely eliminate the human element but could find ways to assuage his doubts.

  "This is my safe room," Commander Milton said as he walked over to the screens, motioning for the two other men to follow him. "In here, we have information on every entity that has ever come to the island or within a certain range of our base here at Tartarus."

  "You built a room to block out everything," Captain Grayson whistled behind him, his boots clacking against the black stone as he walked up to the screens.

  "But you also power it with aetheric systems," Captain Drake tapped his pointed chin. "That should be impossible."

  "Tight cordons with insulated cables," Commander Milton smiled, knowing the answer. "They have to be so tight that they let nothing aetheric through the outside of the tubes while allowing the wires to bring in the power. I spent millions of dolers creating and perfecting it because it needed to be perfect. Even the air that we vent in is leeched of all aether by filters smaller than the eye can see."

  "But why?" Captain Grayson shook his head. "There should be nothing in the world for which you would need a room like this."

  The answer to that question wasn't something that the captain would be privy to, so Commander Milton only smiled. Instead of telling the captain about the existence of WPN One, he instead flicked a panel switch, bringing up the stones that covered the base's port.

  "What it's for is largely irrelevant to you. What it can do for you in your search for Ortega is what matters."

  "Tartarus covers the Core around the first and fourth quadrants," Captain Drake said, tapping one black claw against his chin. "We already know he came close to the island. The question is if he stopped here or will stop here."

  "Tartarus is positioned in such a way that it is an easy stop to make," Commander Milton smiled widely, tapping at his image of the Arbiter. "If they are overconfident, they may land here."

  "Assuming we know when they came," Captain Grayson shook his head before coughing. "Unless you have a way to search through the images quickly, we'll never know."

  "And that is precisely why we are here," Commander Milton said. "I want you to see how far I am willing to go to track down this strange ship. My men have been watching for it since we detected it earlier. I thought you both would be interested in the report."

  The two captains shared a look before nodding.

  "Go ahead," Milton tapped the soldier of the soldier on the right, and the man looked up from his screen with red eyes.

  "We've tracked the ship into Aherlow's port, sir," the man said, shaking slightly as his eyes tried to veer away from Milton's. "It made two passes on the dome before disappearing into the actual port. We don't know precisely where they took up docks, but they haven't left the port either."

  "Expense is a necessary limit to my network currently," Milton said, turning to the two captains. "However, we do know that they are somewhere in the docks."

  "We've got them," Captain Grayson smiled, cracking his knuckles.

  "We'll go to the docks, find the ship, and take them out," Captain Drake nodded, the smoke trailing out of his snout dissipating.

  "A moment," Milton raised a finger. "There's a problem with just running out there."

  "What's that?" Grayson asked, narrowing his eyes.

  "They'll run the moment you get too close," Milton sighed. "You need an eye for strategy, and you're not asking the right questions."

  "Such as?"

  "Why did they take such a close look at the base and then choose to land?" Milton asked, a grin cracking his face. "Why land on a place like Aherlow instead of moving on to Grim Aegis? We must assume that they have a reason for both."

  "And what would you have us do?" Captain Drake let out a thick stream of smoke.

  "Wait and watch," Milton said, stretching out his hands. "I'll send my men out in small numbers to find the ship so that we know where they are. Then we'll figure out why they're here. Once we know that, we can capture them before giving them the chance to run."

  "I don't like it," Captain Grayson said, looking away.

  "Do you have a choice?"