The wraith dangling from the chain beneath Seth significantly reduced his mobility, especially as he attempted to gain altitude. Gone were the effortless turns and swoops of unencumbered flight he had enjoyed before coming to Soaring Cliffs. His metallic wings labored steadily to climb as he struggled to compensate for the weight of the wraith pendulating beneath him. Seth wondered if this was how a ship might flounder at sea with the anchor lowered.

Seth used his concentration to cloak himself as he flew. If shade walking was a thing, why not shade flying? He needed to avoid the notice of the other creatures in flight around him. Most forms he glimpsed seemed relatively small, but occasionally, some distance away, large patches of stars were blotted out by amorphous shapes.

Solitude Keep rose from the top of the towering stone pinnacle that held the dungeons. The closely grouped collection of walls, towers, terraces, and balconies forming the castle stretched vertically to significantly extend the pinnacle’s summit. Portions of the forbidding stone complex overhung the edge, the projecting structures cantilevered or otherwise supported by heavy buttresses, struts, and trusses angling up from the cliff face.

Seth made for the underside of the largest overhang, teeth gritted, muscles straining, wings tenaciously beating the cool night air. The wraith seemed to be increasing in weight.

“You’re getting wobbly,” Calvin said quietly.

“Tired,” Seth whispered. “It’s too heavy.”

“Just make it to those trusses,” Calvin said. “You can rest there.”

“Trying,” Seth replied.

The links of the chain digging into his palms, Seth’s wings labored to lift him into what looked like the underside of a dock reinforced with intersecting timbers. He deposited Prize on a stout beam and then flew to a slightly higher perch, where he slumped on his hands and knees to rest, wings folded about him like a cloak. Panting, Seth flexed his hands where the pressure of the chain had left painful grooves.

He heard rustling in the dimness around him. Despite the bright moon, scant light reached the underside of the overhang, but Seth could perceive a multitude of shapes shifting in the gloom.

“We’re not alone,” Calvin whispered.

Gargoyles, Prize transmitted.

Though Seth had seen pictures of gargoyles on old cathedrals, he knew little about them as living creatures. He slid Vasilis slightly from its scabbard, throwing deep red highlights over the scene. It looked like he was roosting in the midst of a colony of giant misshapen bats. His muscles tensed, and it took an effort to resist crying out. Gargoyles huddled on much of the available space atop the surrounding supports, and many others dangled upside down. The faces were foul and bestial, often with teeth projecting beyond their lips and short, crooked horns sprouting from their foreheads. Extremely lean bodies left their wiry musculature grotesquely pronounced, and most of their forms were contorted in one way or another.

The nearest gargoyle to Seth, only a few feet away on the same timber, turned to face him. The brute was hairier than most, with an exaggerated underbite and a strangely prominent rib cage. He smelled like a monkey house.

“Why . . . you . . . here?” the gargoyle asked in a crude, guttural voice.

“Just resting,” Seth said, aware that he was not speaking English. “I’m a friend.”

The gargoyle snorted and shook his batlike wings. “Our friend . . . dead.”

“What friend?”

“Sang Rou.”

The other gargoyles stirred at the name, and baleful eyes turned toward Seth. He tried not to dwell on their jutting fangs or their sharp claws. The words Sang Rou were echoed by several other voices.

Seth did not know the name. “What happened?”

The gargoyle cowered a bit. “Wyrms come . . . Sang Rou . . . no come. Sang Rou gone.”

“Sang Rou . . . Sang Rou,” others murmured.

“Was Sang Rou the caretaker?” Seth asked.

“Sang Rou . . . speak . . . us,” the gargoyle expressed haltingly. “Sang Rou . . . know . . . words.”

“Sang Rou . . . Sang Rou . . . Sang Rou,” others jabbered. Some flew from one roost to another, leathery wings flapping.

Seth considered himself lucky that Vasilis remained only partway drawn. He worried the wrong move might place him at the center of a swarm of attackers. The majority were larger than him. “I’m Seth. I’m on your side. I’m going to find out what the wyrms are doing.”

The gargoyle growled, a primal utterance that made Seth tighten his hold of Vasilis. “Wyrms . . . hunt . . . us. No more . . . walls. Only . . . hide.”

“Did you used to perch on the castle walls?” Seth asked.

The question sent a ripple of motion through the crowded colony, accompanied by guttural chattering and an occasional growl. Wood creaked as the gargoyles shifted.

The nearest gargoyle swiped at his nostrils with a hairy wrist. “We . . . high . . . before. See so much. Now under.”

“I’m going to spy on the wyrms,” Seth said.

The gargoyle tucked his head, covering his eyes with one hand while chewing on the other. “Safer . . . hide. Better . . . hide.”

“Not for me,” Seth said. “Good luck.”

Snapping Vasilis back into the scabbard, Seth flew off the timber where he had been crouching. Pulling the chain taut, he lifted Prize off the beam where the wraith had waited. Seth lost some altitude as he flew out from under the patio, then resumed his arduous ascent.

When Seth rose above the overhang, he saw that it held stables. Above him, a sinuous body stirred, winding among the battlements atop a soaring wall. The long Chinese dragon had a head like a crocodile. The creature was not yet gazing his way, but Seth knew those sharp eyes would spot him soon.

The stable on the projecting platform looked dark and quiet, so he glided toward it and landed with Prize beside the door. It was slightly ajar. Seth eased it open and stepped inside.

“What else is in here?” he whispered.

We are alone, Prize responded directly to his mind.

Once the wraith had entered, Seth quietly closed the door. He could make out a dry dung heap in the nearest stall. “What was kept here?”

Winged mounts, Prize replied. Griffins, mostly. Some hippogriffs and others.

“How can you tell?” Seth asked.

Droppings, smell, residual energy, Prize explained. They were here until a few weeks ago.

“They probably cleared out when the sanctuary fell,” Seth said. He crept over to a window and gazed up at the keep. “Can you sense the Unforgiving Blade?”

The blade resides in a high room within the castle, Prize confirmed.

“Up one of the towers?” Seth asked.

Not that high, Prize clarified. The object you desire awaits within the top level of the central building.

“Will we have to fly over the walls?” Seth asked.

Unless you wish to pass through the main gate.

“A dragon is watching.”

Courage will be required.

“Is there something here we can use to disguise ourselves?” Seth asked, looking around the dim stable. “Or will shade walking be enough?”

From somewhere below rose a chorus of jarring shrieks. The discordant screeches set Seth’s teeth on edge.

The harpies are raising the alarm, Prize warned. They have discovered your escape and are swarming this way.

Seth raced out the stable door and leaped into the air. The chain pulled taut and he climbed with all his might, flying upward toward the castle wall, heedless of the dragon above. The overlapping shrieks grew louder as the harpies came nearer. Peering up, Seth noticed the crocodile dragon staring into the night in the direction of the screeching. Seth concentrated on cloaking himself with his shade-walking power while his wings toiled.

As Seth crested the wall, the head of the crocodile dragon jerked in his direction. Scales glimmered in the moonlight as a shiver traveled the length of the tubular body, like a wave gliding along a jump rope. Having overtopped the wall, Seth flapped hard toward the castle, losing some altitude to gain speed.

“Here it comes,” Calvin warned from his pocket.

The dragon sprang from the battlements and rocketed toward them, elongated jaws widening. Seth felt a potent surge of dragon fear and steeled himself against the paralysis it could instill. Recognizing that he had no hope of outrunning the dragon, Seth dropped the chain and drew Vasilis. Prize plunged out of view into the courtyard below.

The sword flared bright in his hand, instantly dispelling any shred of dragon fear. Instead, Seth felt emboldened, and he soared to meet the dragon, unencumbered by the wraith, the sword pulling him along. He became lost in an intense rush, the crimson blade blazing ever brighter as the dragon neared.

The crocodilian jaws gaped eagerly, showing long rows of triangular teeth. At the last moment, Seth dipped and swung Vasilis, the blade cleaving through the dragon’s lower jaw, unhindered by scales and bone, leaving the dragon with a colossal overbite.

The dragon tried to veer away, serpentine body curling, but could not get clear before Vasilis slashed along the flank, hot ichor fountaining from a glowing red wound. The dragon fled, diving, but Seth gave chase. He wanted to end the fight while his enemy was flustered.

The wounded dragon flew erratically, zigzagging and corkscrewing, and Seth attempted to follow, swerving and darting, until he anticipated a turn, which brought him to a point in space just behind the head of the dragon. His blade hacked through the top of the dragon’s neck almost to the hilt, and the magnificent beast fell in a limp tumble, like a thrown snake.

As Seth hovered in the sudden stillness, a thrill of ecstasy overtook him. He had survived the dragon! Not only that, he had slain it in midair! Harpy shrieks continued to shrill from a distance. As sizzling blood steamed off his sword, Seth realized how brightly the blade was blazing, and sheathed Vasilis.

Engaging his senses, Seth detected Prize in a courtyard down below. He landed beside the wraith on a shadowy lawn edged by twisty trees. “Are you all right?” Seth whispered.

A fall is not my preferred means of travel, Prize conveyed, still clutching the chain. But it caused little harm.

“The Unforgiving Blade is in the castle above us?” Seth asked.

How can you sense me and not perceive the blade? Prize asked.

Pausing, Seth engaged his shadow senses. He drew Vasilis to increase his connection to his power. Seth swiftly recognized wraiths and other undead presences in the dungeons below, but he sensed nothing he could recognize as the dark sword.

“How does it feel?” Seth asked.

The castle is protected by spells, Prize expressed. But nothing can fully hide the pull of the Void present within the Unforgiving Blade.

“Does the blade feel like a wraith?”

A wraith is sentient, Prize explained. The blade has no mind to engage with. Seek out the pure essence of the Void.

Seth remembered when he had first encountered the Unforgiving Blade, how he had felt drawn to it and was nearly pulled into the darkness that encased it. He might have drowned in that endless oblivion without help from Merek. Suddenly Seth became aware of a similar darkness in the castle, drawing his attention like a magnet. How had he missed it? Now that he knew what to look for, he suspected he could identify that steady concentration of darkness anywhere.

“I feel it,” Seth said.

Then you no longer need me, Prize resolved. Go. I will find my way back to the Sisters.

Seth could hear the harpies screeching from beyond the castle walls. Their wails emanated from all directions, as if they were circling Solitude Keep. Seth assumed they could not enter the castle grounds, because not a single one had come over the wall. “The harpies are swarming. Be careful.”

I will endure, Prize said, dropping the chain. Go.

Seth knew it would not be long before more dragons came to intercept him. Once word spread that he had escaped the dungeon, the manhunt would escalate, and efforts to protect the Unforgiving Blade would increase. He had to hurry.

“’Bye,” Seth said, keeping Vasilis unsheathed as he jumped, wings propelling a steep climb. It was so much easier to fly without a dangling wraith! Holding the magic sword made his wings feel supercharged.

Seth alighted on one of the castle’s higher balconies and sheathed his sword to douse the light. The squalling harpies filled the night with grating cries. With the sword sheathed, connecting to his power no longer felt effortless, but, crouching and exerting his will, Seth started shade walking. Gently testing the handle to the door leading in from the balcony, he found it unlocked and crept into a dim bedroom. With the door closed, he could only faintly hear the clamor of the harpies.

Missing the confidence Vasilis gave him, Seth fingered the hilt of the sword. Enough moonlight spilled into the room to reveal that the bed was empty. Seth hurried to the far side of the room and out into a long hall.

The castle was oddly still and dark. Could it be deserted? The previous occupants had either fled or perished. How many dragons would have chosen to stay here after overthrowing the caretaker? They would have to assume human shape. Would they have invited others to dwell here? Goblins or minotaurs or somebody? It was hard for Seth to imagine many dragons remaining in a castle built to human scale.

The hall was too dark to navigate swiftly, so Seth drew Vasilis. With the tips of his wings brushing the walls, Seth soared down the length of the hall, landing at the foot of a narrow, winding stairway. The stairway was too cramped for flight, but Seth could feel the Unforgiving Blade somewhere above him, so he charged up the corkscrewing steps two at a time.

A locked door at the top halted his progress momentarily, but, accessing his power, Seth swiftly disengaged the lock. His swordlight revealed a corridor narrower than the one below. Seth could feel that he was on the same level as the Unforgiving Blade. It was down this corridor and off to the right. Why had he met no guards yet?

If Celebrant was off fighting a war, he may have left only a skeleton crew at Soaring Cliffs.

Seth ran down the corridor. He stopped in front of an iron door. Without trying the handle, he could sense that it was locked, both mechanically and magically.

“Is it in there?” Calvin asked quietly.

Seth nodded. Tightening his grip on Vasilis, Seth placed a palm flat against the door, bowed his head, and summoned his power. The mechanisms protecting the door resisted. Leaning against the iron surface, breath coming in ragged gasps, Seth heaved with all his will. Vasilis flared brighter, and all at once the locking mechanisms released. After taking a moment to wipe perspiration from his brow and steady himself, Seth opened the door.

The tenebrous room beyond had no windows and no other door. By the crimson swordlight, Seth saw the Unforgiving Blade dangling from a rope at the center of the room, tip pointing down. The sleek blade reflected no light, seeming instead like an absence. Seth supposed that since the blade could not be sheathed, hanging it from the ceiling by the hilt was a sensible way to store it.

“You found it,” Calvin said as Seth entered the room. “Careful not to cut yourself.”

“The wound would never heal,” Seth said. “I remember.”

“Is that your satchel?” Calvin asked.

Seth tore his attention from the Unforgiving Blade to notice makeshift cubbies against one wall holding various belongings, including cloaks, coats, hats, weapons, and satchels. A leather messenger bag leaned against the side of one cubby. Seth hurried over to the bag, picked it up, and opened it. “It’s mine. And my stuff is here.”

“Including the pieces of the Wizenstone?” Calvin asked.

“Including those,” Seth said, fingering the two halves.

“Good!” Calvin explained. “Now we just need the stone from the Dragon King’s crown, the stone from the Giant Queen’s crown, the stone from the Demon King’s crown, and the Ethershard, and you will have all the pieces of the Ethergem.”

Seth sighed. “More likely I’ll die trying. But at least Celebrant won’t have an extra weapon in his arsenal.” He crossed to the Unforgiving Blade and cut the line connected to the hilt. The blade dropped, plunging into the stone floor up to the hilt.

“Now, that is a sharp knife,” Calvin said.

Seth crouched and picked up the Unforgiving Blade. Vasilis blazed in his other hand, but the dark blade reflected nothing. Seth stared at the perfect blackness, absorbed by the fathomless depths. It was as though reality had parted to reveal the nothingness beneath.

“Seth,” Calvin said. “Snap out of it.”

Seth wrenched his gaze away from the dark blade. As he did, he found that Vasilis had dimmed to a darker red than ever. Blinking to clear his vision, Seth swished both blades through the air. “We should go.”

He stepped out into the corridor and was confronted by two men to his left, and a man and a woman to his right. Both couples stood several paces away. They carried weapons and looked determined to bar his way.

“You could have fled,” one of the men to the left said—the tallest, with broad shoulders and long, blond hair. He had a rather long face with chiseled features. “Instead you came for the blade. And you found it swiftly.”

“I’ll leave just as fast if you get out of the way,” Seth said.

The blond man shook his head. “My father would not approve. Dead or alive, you will make a fine trophy.”