Prince Arlen's master bedroom was no longer a bridal chamber, but a disaster zone.

  The freezing night wind blew in through the broken balcony door, carrying with it the smell of smoke from the burning Clock Tower in the distance. The black silk curtains were torn, fluttering wildly like a torn war flag.

  Rhea Ashart was cornered in the corner of the room, her back pressed against the cold wall covered in gold wallpaper that was now charred. She pulled Arlen's bathrobe, which lay on the floor, with trembling hands, trying to cover her exposed body, but her fingers were too weak. Her left chest—just above her heart—felt numb, as if there was an invisible gaping hole there. Her essence had been drained. Her Binary Star symbol flickered dimly, almost extinguished.

  In front of her, Arlen Runerre stood in the middle of the room. He no longer looked like the handsome prince dancing in the ballroom. His face was distorted by rage and excessive energy ecstasy. The blue static electricity no longer just sparkled; it flowed across his skin like a living liquid tattoo, making his golden hair float against gravity.

  “You think you're clever, Rhea?” Arlen's voice echoed, layered with ear-splitting static distortion. He stepped forward. The thick carpet beneath his feet burned to ash with each step.

  “You sent your little servant and that crippled librarian to blow up my toy?” Arlen laughed. The laughter sounded like breaking glass. “You only broke one jar of honey. But the bear is still hungry. And now... the bear is right in front of you.”

  Arlen raised his right hand. A ball of lightning the size of a human head formed in his palm. Not ordinary blue lightning. It was a deep purple—the color of pure energy contaminated by stolen Intian.

  “I'll lock you in the deepest dungeon,” Arlen whispered. “I'll attach a crystal tube directly to your heart. You'll never see the sun again. You'll just be... my food.”

  Mira closed her eyes. She didn't have the strength to run. She didn't have a weapon. Anna was nowhere to be found. Ulric was probably dead. I'm sorry, Mother. I failed.

  Arlen threw the lightning ball. The attack was meant to incapacitate, not kill. It aimed straight for Mira's legs.

  Mira held her breath, waiting for the pain that would shatter her leg bones.

  But the pain didn't come.

  Instead, there was a loud clanging sound. The sound of metal clashing with energy. In front of Mira, a shadow suddenly appeared. It was not a shadow of smoke like Arlen's soldiers. It was a solid shadow.

  A figure clad in dirty gray robes stood with its back to Mira. In its hand, it held a strange round shield made of dull black metal—metal that absorbed light. Arlen's lightning ball struck the shield and... vanished. Absorbed. Neutralized.

  The figure lowered the shield. She turned her head slightly. Short, practical black hair. Round glasses with a crack on one side. And a very familiar crooked smile.

  “You look a mess, Little Mouse,” the woman said.

  Mira's eyes widened. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. “Arlene...”

  Arlene—Mira's former head maid, mentor, and nightmare—had returned from Fasheart. And she didn't look like a maid. She was wearing tactical combat gear covered in dust and dried mud. Around her waist was a belt full of smoke grenades. On her back were two short swords.

  “How...” Arlene lowered her hand, momentarily surprised. “You should be in the southeast. Rotting in the mud.”

  “The mud in the southeast is very informative, Your Highness,” Arlene spun her black shield. “And I didn't come alone.”

  Arlene whistled sharply.

  From the direction of the destroyed balcony, a man leaped in. The man was huge. He was two meters tall, wearing light armor made of wild animal skin and a helmet that covered his entire face. On his back was a large mechanical device that hissed and emitted steam.

  The man landed beside Mira with a heavy thud. Without saying a word, he removed the thick cloak from his shoulders and threw it over Mira's shivering body. His movements were quick but efficient, completely covering Mira from Arlene's view.

  “Take her, Jax,” Arlene ordered without turning her head, her eyes locked on Arlene. "The package is secure. Route Sarpant 12."

  The man named Jax nodded. He bent down, scooping Mira's body into his arms as if she were as light as a pillow. The man's arms were as hard as tree trunks, but his grip was steady. Mira could smell the scent of engine oil and gunpowder from the man's armor.

  “Who are you?!” Arlen roared.

  “Us?” Arlene grinned, pulling two short swords from her back. Their blades were not shiny; they were jet black, made of Obsidian infused with Nullification magic. “We are the consequence of your actions, kid.”

  Arlen exploded. “DIE!”

  Arlen released an omni-directional discharge of electricity in all directions. The entire room lit up with a blinding white light. The wooden furniture exploded. The remaining glass turned to dust.

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  Arlene didn't retreat. She leaped forward, piercing through the wave of lightning. The black shield in her left hand split the electrical current, creating a safe corridor behind her. The sword in her right hand slashed.

  Arlen took a step back. Her smooth cheek was scratched. Blood dripped. The first wound Prince Runerre had suffered in ten years. Arlen touched her cheek, staring at the blood on her finger with a look of disbelief that turned into pure madness.

  “Run, Jax! NOW!” Arlene shouted, blocking Arlen's counterattack with his shield, which was beginning to glow red.

  Jax didn't wait. He turned, running toward the shattered balcony. Ahead of him lay only the darkness of night and a three-hundred-meter drop. The Tower of the Sun was the highest point in the capital.

  “Wait!” Mira screamed in Jax's arms. “It's a chasm!”

  Jax didn't answer. He didn't slow down. He jumped.

  Mira screamed as gravity pulled at her stomach. They fell freely into the cold emptiness of the night. The wind slapped Mira's face, tearing her scream apart. Above them, the blue light from Arlen's room was rapidly shrinking.

  We're going to die. We're going to be smashed to pulp.

  Suddenly, the mechanical device on Jax's back hissed loudly. Two mechanical wings made of steel canvas spread out from Jax's armor. They weren't wings for flying upward. They were gliders.

  There was a violent jolt as the wings caught the wind. Their free fall turned into a sharp, controlled glide. Jax twisted his body, gliding away from the palace walls, diving toward the residential district below.

  Mira buried her face in Jax's chest, her breath coming in gasps. He was still alive.

  “Look up,” Jax's voice sounded heavy and muffled from behind his helmet.

  Mira looked up. On the balcony of the Tower of the Sun far above, she saw flashes of blue and black colliding. Arlen and Arlene were fighting. Then, a small figure jumped off the balcony, following them.

  Arlene. She didn't have wings. She fell freely in a military parachute style, her arms and legs tucked in.

  Arlen appeared at the edge of the balcony, preparing to fire a giant lightning spear at the falling Arlene. “YOU WON'T GET AWAY!” his voice thundered, audible all the way down below.

  Arlene, mid-air, spun around to face upward. She pulled a lever on her belt. Three small black balls flew toward the balcony.

  Not an explosion of fire. An explosion of Smoke & Chaff (metal shards). A thick cloud of smoke mixed with silver powder exploded in Arlen's face, blocking his vision and disrupting his magic aim. The lightning spear missed by a wide margin, striking the flag tower next to it and destroying it.

  Arlene continued to fall. As she neared the height of the city's rooftops, she fired a double grapple gun from her wrist. Iron hooks embedded themselves into two different building chimneys. Steel cables tensed. Arlene swung between the buildings like a pendulum, landing with a perfect roll on the roof of a grain warehouse, then ran in the direction of Jax.

  ***

  Jax landed in a narrow, dark alley behind the fish market. His mechanical wings folded back with an automatic click. He lowered Mira slowly.

  Mira staggered, her bare feet (covered only by Jax's oversized cloak) touching the cold paving blocks. She was still in shock. “Arlene...” she whispered.

  A minute later, a shadow landed beside them. Arlene. She was slightly out of breath, with a burn on her left shoulder, but her eyes were burning with adrenaline.

  “Status?” Arlene asked Jax.

  “Target secure. Minimal physical trauma. Magical trauma... severe,” Jax reported flatly. “She's been drained.”

  Arlene approached Mira, checked her eyes, then checked Mira's chest (without touching her). “That bastard really made you his snack,” Arlene growled. She reached into her waist bag, pulling out a small bottle of silver liquid. “Drink this. Stardust Concentrate. It tastes like drinking liquid nails, but it will recharge your Intian.”

  Mira drank it. It tasted awful—metal and cold fire—but immediately, the numbness in her chest lessened. Her heart beat stronger.

  “Arlene,” Mira grabbed the woman's arm. “You're back. I thought you...”

  “You thought I left you alone in a den of crocodiles?” Arlene smiled crookedly, smoothing Mira's messy hair. “I just went to recruit some help. And to make sure we had fireworks worthy of this party.”

  Ulric and Anna appeared from the end of the alley. Ulric was panting, his glasses askew, clutching his camera. Anna was supporting him, her own arm roughly bandaged with torn cloth.

  “Mira!” Ulric exclaimed with relief. “You're safe!”

  “We're all safe. For now,” Anna interrupted.

  Arlene looked at her mechanical watch. "Right on time. One o'clock."

  “Right on time for what?” asked Mira.

  Arlene pointed toward the city. Toward the silhouette of the tall buildings that were the icons of the capital city of Everiven.

  “Arlen is angry because his clock tower toy is broken,” said Arlene. “But he doesn't know that the clock tower is just a fuse.”

  Arlene raised her hand, counting down with her fingers. “Three... Two... One.”

  In the distance, the Grand Theater in the South District exploded. The theater's magnificent dome collapsed inward, spewing blue flames and dust.

  One second later. Saint Douma Cathedral in the East. The cathedral's bell tower broke in half, falling onto the square, which (fortunately) had already begun to empty from the festivities.

  Two seconds later. The Heroes' Monument in the West. The giant statue of King Stormborn shattered from within, its legs exploding, causing the stone body to collapse to the ground.

  Three more explosions from various parts of the city.

  The ground shook violently. The city alarm blared. The capital's night sky, which had been lit up by celebratory fireworks, was now illuminated by four pillars of smoke and magical fire rising high from the four cardinal directions (North/Clock Tower first, plus East, South, West).

  Mira gaped at the apocalyptic scene. “You...” Mira stared at Arlene. “You blew everything up?”

  “Me and my new friends from Fasheart,” Arlene patted Jax on the shoulder. “They're demolition experts. The surviving Machima race turned out to be very skilled at mixing explosives from fertilizer.”

  Ulric stared at the map in his hand in amazement. “The system is down,” Ulric whispered. “The energy flow to the palace is completely cut off. The artificial Ley Lines are destroyed.”

  Mira looked toward the Celestial Palace in the distance. The lights in the palace flickered, then... went out. For the first time in history, the palace that always shone brightly was plunged into complete darkness. The protective dome of magic surrounding the palace (which was powered by the suction system) faded and disappeared.

  “The shield has fallen,” said Anna, grinning wildly as she held her injured arm. “The Golden Prince is now exposed.”

  Arlene turned to face Mira. Behind her, the city was burning in revolutionary chaos.

  “This is no longer a spy mission, Rhea,” Arlene said seriously. “This is a declaration of war. Starting tonight, we are the most wanted fugitives on this kingdom.”

  Arlene held out her hand. “Ready to be the Queen of Anarchy?”

  Mira stared at Arlene's hand. Then she looked at the dark palace where Arlen—the monster who had just tried to eat her—was. Mira was no longer afraid. Her fear had been drained along with her energy earlier. All that remained was a clear coldness.

  Mira took Arlene's hand. “Let's burn the rest,” said Mira.

  On the hill, in the ruined room, Arlen Runerre stood on the balcony, roaring in the sudden darkness, surrounded by the ruins of his crumbling ambitions. The New Year in Everiven began not with hope, but with the fire of rebellion.