Sanni twirled a strand of her ivory hair between her fingers, her voice low as she muttered, "Such a waste of Anntom. I wonder if they even knew the truth or if they simply called it superior noble genetics to justify their arrogance."
The study around her was a labyrinth of bookshelves and stacked maps, her private sanctuary within House Fell's sprawling estate. It was a library of her own making, filled with treasures gifted by her father and brother during their travels. Despite her efforts, there were simply too many volumes for her to read in a lifetime.
Her finger traced the outline of a map spread across her desk, the borders of Koona marked with intricate detail. The city's thirteen walls were no more. The map was obsolete, a relic of a world now irrevocably changed. The Revenant's actions had unraveled the delicate threads of control, spurring thieves and miscreants into a frenzy.
Koona sat on a knife's edge, a precarious balance between the nobles' rigid status quo and the chaos creeping through its streets. Sanni could feel the cracks in the city's foundation widening. What a time to be alive! She could see the opportunity in the chaos, the potential to reshape the world.
It wouldn't be long before the Didacts convened the Council of Ten.
"Little sister," Solomon's familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, "you really ought to lock your door."
Sanni didn't bother looking up. "I don't recall inviting you in, dear brother."
Solomon leaned against the doorframe, his signature grin in place. "Mother worries for your safety. She practically begged me to check on you."
A flicker of bitterness crossed Sanni's face. "Yet, they give you the title of heir."
Solomon ruffled her hair, undeterred by her tone. "Think less of it, little sister. We both know I've no interest in becoming the ruler of House Fell."
"And yet you waste no time stealing my servant," Sanni snapped, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.
Her brother raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Ah, so my dear little sister has developed a crush on her servant?"
She stomped on his foot without hesitation. Solomon winced, muttering a string of curses under his breath. "That was uncalled for," he said, feigning hurt. "I was only teasing."
Arms crossed, Sanni tapped her foot impatiently. "I'm waiting for an explanation," she said flatly.
Solomon ran a hand through his hair as his grin faltered. "Fine. If you must know, he's a Sorcerer—or soon to be one."
"I already know that," Sanni said, narrowing her eyes. "I was waiting for the right moment to confront him. But now you've ruined it. I can't get the information I need from him anymore."
Solomon hesitated, his usual carefree demeanor slipping. "Do you really think—"
"Solomon!" she interrupted, her tone sharp.
He waved a dismissive hand. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with."
Her glare intensified. "What is it, Solomon?"
Her brother sighed, finally relenting. "It's just… I've never seen Atta flow through a human like that before. Pureblood elves, maybe. The Sunreachers, certainly. But a human? It's almost unheard of." He paused, his brow furrowing. "It makes me wonder."
Sanni frowned, his words stirring unease in her chest. Solomon had seen more of Lorian's horrors than she ever would, yet he rarely stopped to ponder them. If her brother was dwelling on Mirak, there had to be a reason.
What could it mean for a Publici servant to possess such a presence? Was it a gift from the Lady of Flesh? Mirak had used Anntom, after all. Too many questions lingered unanswered. It was in the Fell blood to solve mysteries, and Mirak was certainly one.
Solomon clapped her on the shoulder, his usual grin returning. "Let me worry about the Sorcerers. You focus on what matters."
What mattered. Of course. She was the one who had done the research, the one piecing together the layers of forgotten knowledge. If they succeeded, she could free herself from the chains of expectation, and House Fell could rise above the other noble families. But it all rested on her shoulders.
Solomon's hand lingered. "You need a break, Sanni. Enjoy your youth, like I do." He flashed her a mischievous smile. "Makeeth's Domain won't be found in a single day."
"And my life won't be sold away like a trinket at market, dear brother," Sanni countered, her voice tight.
Solomon's expression softened. "It won't. I can hold the nobles at bay for years if I have to."
"And what happened to enjoying your youth?" Sanni said, raising an eyebrow.
Her brother laughed, but Sanni's mind wandered. She loved him, but Solomon was a force of nature—a maelstrom waiting to be unleashed. If he made a single misstep, the other noble houses would unite against them, and Koona would drown in blood.
Solomon would survive, of course. He would rip the other houses apart brick by brick, no matter how many Sorcerers or assassins they threw at him. But he couldn't be everywhere at once. She and their parents would almost certainly die.
For all his power, Solomon was a catastrophe waiting to happen, and it was up to her to ensure that catastrophe never came.
"We'll find Makeeth's Domain," Solomon said, interrupting her thoughts. "Then we can enjoy our youth."
Sanni skimmed a line of text from a nearby book. Solomon glanced over her shoulder. "Have you cross-referenced this with the Pureblood elven texts I brought you? And the Sunreacher ones?"
"Yes, but their language is maddening," Sanni admitted with a sigh. "They repeat words constantly, but the meanings change depending on context. It's hard to know what's actually being said."
"But you're learning," Solomon said.
"Yes, and I've even been teaching your apprentice the basics," she said pointedly.
"Mirak was your servant first," Solomon argued.
"Yes, and he's full of questions that need answering. But his language skills are... abysmal."
"Thank you for helping him. We'll make a proper Sorcerer out of him yet," Solomon said, scruffing her hair again.
Sanni swatted his hand away, scowling. "Says the one who barely uses Atta beyond its most basic applications."
"It's all the same," Solomon said with a shrug.
Sanni opened her mouth to retort, but Solomon interrupted her. "Your notes keep mentioning Makeeth's Rage, but not his Domain. Isn't he one of the elves' gods?"
"The Pureblood elves believe Atta flows from Makeeth. They say it can only be wielded under his guidance. The Sunreachers, on the other hand, believe Makeeth formed them from the primordial seas. Most elven subcultures worship one of their seven gods as their progenitor," Sanni explained. "But the texts surrounding Makeeth's Rage are full of words I can't reliably translate."
"So it's important," Solomon guessed.
"It might be. Or it could just be a flowery sermon about divine ascension. I don't know, Solomon," she admitted.
Solomon lounged on her desk, grinning. "Didn't you just say the elves choose their words carefully?"
"They do, but they also love embellishment," Sanni countered.
"So we're back to square one," Solomon said, shaking his head. "Guess that means I get to spelunk through more ruins."
"If we could just acquire a text written by the Neph, everything would come together," Sanni said. "The only place with intact Neph and dwarven texts is the Divine Tower. Their words are engraved on the walls there."
Solomon stood, his grin widening. "Then I'll just pay the Divine Tower a visit. Who knows? I might even find some gold while I'm at it."
"Brother, close your mouth before your stupidity spreads," Sanni said, glaring at him.
Solomon laughed, but a few minutes later, his tone grew serious. "I'm taking Mirak to the Royal Palace."
Sanni snorted. "Oh, you're serious."
"Very much so," Solomon said. "If my little apprentice doesn't learn how the nobles interact, I'd be a terrible teacher."
"They won't let a Publici into the Royal Palace," Sanni argued. "Even servants are thoroughly vetted."
"They'll let him in," Solomon said with infuriating confidence. "Because I want him there."
"You're stark mad," Sanni said, fuming. "That power of yours has gone to your head and rotted your brain."
Solomon stuck out his tongue. "You worry too much."
"And you worry too little!" Sanni snapped. "The moment he leaves the Palace, he'll be killed."
"No, he won't. I'm training him, after all," Solomon said, utterly unfazed.
"Enough," Sanni said firmly. "Leave my personal servant alone."
"No can do," Solomon replied with a grin.
Sanni quickly shifted the topic. "And the Silver Mark assassin?"
"It's hard to get answers when thieves bolt at the sight of my hair," Solomon said.
Sanni shook her head. "We both know thieves couldn't afford a Silver Mark assassin. It had to be another noble house."
Solomon shrugged. "I don't care who sent it or why."
"You should," Sanni countered. "It would've killed everyone in that room if you hadn't been there."
"And that's the problem, isn't it?" Solomon said, his tone sharpening. "Who was it after, Sanni? Surely the Silver Marks knew they couldn't kill me."
Sanni hesitated, running her fingers over the map. "It might've been me."
Solomon's gaze darkened. "What did you let slip?"
"Nothing," Sanni said firmly. "I would never speak so recklessly."
"Sanni!" Solomon pressed, his voice heavy with warning.
She met his gaze, unflinching. "I said nothing, Solomon. But someone clearly sees us as a threat."