Page 3 of Sunsplitter

Fire. Flames spread along the porch, up the eaves. Faster than fire should spread.

Another scream.

Hissister’sscream sparked a moment of clarity. And panic. His sister was inside. Their home was burning. He needed to get to her.

Every muscle quaked as he pushed to his feet.

Then, every muscle gave out. He collapsed to the snow.

His breaths shallowed. Black bloomed across his vision as he tried to crawl, to drag himself across the snow. He had to get to her. He had to…

A woman stood over him.

She was tall. Dark hair fell past her shoulders, no longer laced with snow, sheened with orange from his burning home. She said nothing. Her expression said nothing, lips drawn to a mild line.

It must have been a trick of the firelight. For a moment, her irises seemed to glow gold.

She reached for him. He screamed again.

But he had no strength left to run.

Part One

I received a package today, for the Lord Daeyari.

In my time as governor, this is only the second such occurrence, a nondescript parcel delivered by a vavriter, that hybrid race so rarely seen in these territories.

“From the Twilit Plane,” he told me.

I wouldn’t know where to begin sending a message to the Twilit Plane, couldn’t name a single human who knows the route to the daeyari’s home world. I asked the vavriter if he’d made the journey himself, what it was like.

He said it wasn’t my concern. That if any message must be sent, my Lord Daeyari knows how to do so.

After he left, I wondered—why do the daeyari refuse to teach humans about the Twilit Plane? Why keep the route a secret?

— Journal of Silas Jenper, former governor of Thomaskweld, recovered during restoration of the capitol building

“Open up, you shit-faced little ice weasel!” Fi rammed her shoulder against the door.

“Get fucked, Fi!” came a muffled protest from the other side.

She had little space to work in the cramped hotel hallway. Hypothetically, it wouldn’t behardto slice the door hinges off with an energy sword—but no, boring people kept telling her that shouldn’t be her first approach to every problem. A few doors down, an eavesdropper poked a head out at the commotion. A feral grin from Fi sent them fleeing back into their room.

She slammed her palm to the copper door handle. Energy warmed her muscles, the fuel of living tissue. She harnessed a current out of her bicep, Shaping the prickly magic into a silver glow at her fingers, her body’s energy condensed into physical form.

A shove of magic into the lock clicked it open. Fi rammed the door again.

It didn’t budge, blockaded from the inside.

Void smugglers were, without question, the absolute worst.Fi felt reasonably qualified to make that character judgment. Sure, she hadn’t run any illicit goods for a year. And sure, as the new partner of an immortal territory lord, she had a “public obligation” to act “respectable” at least half the time.

That didn’t stop her from cussing into the door jamb.

Inside the room, a window groaned open. Then, thethudof a no-good coward smuggler hauling himself over the sill.

“Fucker,” Fi spat.

She sprinted down the hall. Her boots pounded starburst carpet, copper energy conduits glinting geometric patterns up the walls to feed the light fixtures overhead. In the lobby, the owner rose from his desk, a startled look as Fi careened past.