They stood under the palace’s dome. The circular space housed by the dome was as vast as the Etherion in Tarras. And, before its destruction, that had been able to accommodate thousands of priests.

Far above, round windows pierced the ceiling, glowing like suns in a midnight sky. A narrow strip of stone ringed the cavernous space, forming a ledge. It was on this ledge that they stood. As Travis had discovered, the ledge had no railing to prevent one from falling into the depths.

Ahead, in the center of the chamber, was a golden tetrahedron. Given the lack of reference, it was hard to be certain of the tetrahedron’s size, but surely it was as large as a house, or larger yet. It seemed to float in the middle of the emptiness, like an island on a dark sea. However, Travis’s eyes—remade in the fires of Krondisar—pierced shadow, and he glimpsed rock beneath it; the golden structure was supported by a column of natural stone that rose from the depths.

Travis could see two bridges, one to each side of him. The spans were slender and delicate, like creations of black spun glass, no more than two feet wide and without rails. Each bridge sprang from the stone ledge and arched across the chasm to a triangular doorway in one of the gold tetrahedron’s three walls. While he could not see it, he guessed there would be a third bridge on the far side of the chasm.

“Mother!”

The cry, quickly muffled, snapped Travis’s attention to the bridge to his left. There were two figures there. One was Nim. Even at a distance, Travis could see fear on the pale oval of her face. She was dressed in a robe of gold cloth. Her cheeks were smudged with something dark.

The other figure was a sorcerer. He held Nim in one arm, crushing her against his chest, his wrist clamped over her mouth. The sorcerer’s gold mask was dented, sitting crookedly on his face, and his black robe was torn. He took a limping step backward along the bridge.

Vani surged toward the span, but Avhir caught her before she could step onto it.

“Stop!”

Vani gave him an anguished look but did not break free of his grasp. As Travis drew closer, he saw why. The sorcerer held a bronze dagger in his free hand. He brought it down, resting the point against Nim’s cheek. Her eyes went wide, and she squirmed in his arms. Such was her strength that the sorcerer stumbled, and one of his feet slipped off the edge of the narrow span. He stumbled, then managed to recover.

“Nim, don’t move!” Vani shouted. At once Nim went limp in the sorcerer’s arm.

Good girl, Travis thought. Good, brave girl, to be able to listen to her mother even now. There’s still a chance.

However, what it was, Travis wasn’t certain. The sorcerer took another limping step back. He was halfway across the bridge. There was no way they could reach him before he had the time to use that dagger.

What about a runespell, Travis?Jack’s voice suggested in his mind. Blast him off the bridge with a spell! Oh, dear. Wait a moment. . . .

That was the problem. If Travis killed the sorcerer with a spell, the Scirathi would fall from the bridge—taking Nim with him. The others must have sensed the same truth. All strained, as if wishing to move, but remained still, eyes locked on Nim and the Scirathi. The sorcerer took three more limping steps along the bridge.

Orú’s throne room must be inside that tetrahedron. Nim will open the way for him. But you can’t let him get in there, Travis. If he does, you’re the only one who can follow him. And if he finds the blood of Orú in there, even you won’t be able to stop him. Xemeth was destroyed when he drank from the scarab, but he wasn’t an experienced sorcerer. If that Scirathi drinks Orú’s blood, he’ll kill us all.

Larad gave Grace a sharp look. “Can you break his life thread, Your Majesty?”

“No!” Vani hissed. “If the sorcerer perishes, Nim falls!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Grace said, face ashen. “The Weirding is too weak. I can’t even see his thread from here, let alone break it.”

Vani looked at Travis, her gold eyes imploring. “Please, you have to save her.”

Travis opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what he would say, what he could possibly do. “Vani, I—”

“Let me through,” Farr said, pushing past Travis and Vani.

Vani gripped his arm. “What do you think you’re doing? If you try to approach, he’ll kill her.”

Farr shook off her hand. He didn’t look at the T’gol. Instead, he turned his dark gaze on Grace. Travis saw her eyes go wide, then after a moment she nodded. She moved past Larad and Avhir.

“Let’s go then,” Farr said, holding out one hand, the other tucked inside his robe.

What did Farr think they were going to do? Before Travis could ask, Grace drew in a deep breath, then reached out and took Farr’s hand. The two of them turned around—

—then ran forward, jumping off the ledge and vanishing into the impenetrable darkness below.

Travis was so stunned that he could only stare into the void. For a moment he thought he glimpsed a flicker of silver-blue light, then all he saw was blackness.

“Your Majesty!” Larad cried, rushing forward, and he would have gone over the edge himself if Vani hadn’t held him back.

This wasn’t happening; Grace and Farr couldn’t have just leaped to their deaths. Only they had. Travis had seen them vanish into the endless dark below. A weakness came over him, a watery feeling, and his legs shook as if they were going to buckle. Avhir stood motionless at the place where Grace and the former Seeker had vanished. The sorcerer on the bridge had halted, his gold mask tilted at what seemed a quizzical angle, as if even he could not fathom what had just taken place. Then, before any of them could move, a strange thing happened.

Nim laughed.

The sorcerer’s grip on her had weakened, but he tightened his arm around her, stifling her mirth. Vani took a step onto the bridge, but the Scirathi raised the dagger, warning her back. She let out a low moan, a sound of both anguish and fury. Holding Nim, the sorcerer took another step along the bridge.

A ball of silver light burst into being just behind him.

The ball of light collapsed into a point, vanishing, and in its place, standing on the bridge, were two figures: a man in black robes and a woman with pale hair. Their appearance was so utterly unexpected that it took Travis a moment simply to recognize who they were.

“By the Blood!” Vani said, staggering back a step.

The two figures on the bridge were Grace and Hadrian Farr. They were no more than five steps from the sorcerer, with Farr the closest. Grace was fighting to keep her balance, but Farr was already moving, lunging for the Scirathi. The sorcerer whirled around, dagger flashing . . .

Travis didn’t know whom the sorcerer was trying to stab— Nim or Farr—but Farr was faster, grabbing the sorcerer’s wrist and wrenching it hard. The dagger spun into the chasm, and the Scirathi lost his balance. His right foot slipped over the edge of the bridge, and he fell onto his right knee. Nim slipped halfway from his grasp and screamed. If he let go of her, she would tumble into the void.

Only when he saw a dark blur moving along the bridge did Travis realize Vani was running. However, swift as she was, there wasn’t time to reach the Scirathi. Farr lunged again, reaching for Nim. The sorcerer twisted away. However, doing so caused him to lose what remained of his balance. The Scirathi tried to recover, but his foot snagged on his robe, and he tumbled off the bridge.

Farr threw himself forward, onto his belly, arms flung outward. His fingers brushed against Nim’s golden robe. And latched on.

Nim screamed again, a sound that echoed throughout the dome. The sorcerer was holding on to her legs. Their combined weight dragged at Farr, his body sliding across the bridge. Grace threw herself to her knees, gripping his ankles. However, she was only able to slow his progress toward the edge of the bridge, not stop it.