Uriah stared at the glowing map beneath his feet.
A thin golden road connected Greykeep to Harwick Citadel. At either end stood the symbol of an open arch.
“Twelve seconds,” Melody said.
“Yes.”
“To travel four days.”
“That is what the Castellan said.”
She grinned. “I want to do it.”
Uriah looked toward the western archway beneath the stairs.
The same doors had opened less than an hour earlier, revealing a passage into Greykeep’s foundation chambers. They were sealed again now, but golden light outlined the Crown carved into their center.
“We do not know where the other gate opens,” he said.
“Harwick Citadel,” Melody replied.
“I meant where inside it.”
“That is what makes it exciting.”
“That is what makes it a terrible idea.”
Evelyn crouched beside the magical map.
“The old gate might open beneath Harwick’s fortress.”
“Why beneath it?” Mary asked.
“Most transit gates were placed inside protected chambers. If Greykeep once governed the western district, the citadel’s gate would have connected its regional officials directly to the capital.”
Alistair studied the flashing symbol.
“If Harwick knows the gate exists, he may be waiting for us.”
The Castellan answered through the courtyard stones.
“External gate dormant for two hundred seventeen years.”
“Dormant is not the same as unknown,” Evelyn said.
“Correct.”
“Can Harwick activate it from his side?”
“External control disabled.”
“Can he block it?”
“Unknown.”
“Can the gate be used to harm people traveling through it?”
“Unknown.”
Melody looked at Uriah.
“Still exciting.”
“No.”
“Moderately exciting?”
“No.”
“A little?”
“Perhaps.”
She smiled.
Uriah turned toward the council representatives gathered around the map.
Greykeep was recovering from the attempted siege. Teams collected weapons and equipment from the western field. Builders continued raising shelters. Hunters had already left for the forest, and messengers were riding toward Stoneford and Willowbrook.
There was more work than daylight.
Leaving now felt irresponsible.
Waiting might be worse.
Harwick had sent collectors to burn Lowfield’s grain. He had ordered five hundred soldiers to seize Greykeep. If given several days, he could summon allies, fortify his territory, or punish the villages under his control.
Uriah had promised to confront him.
A promise mattered most when keeping it became inconvenient.
“Eliza,” he said, “you remain in command of Greykeep’s defense.”
The captain nodded. “I expected to.”
“Mary handles civil decisions with the temporary council.”
Mary looked up from her ledger.
“I am coming with you.”
“Someone has to remain here.”
“Someone has to present the deed, land grants, and tax records.”
“I can present them.”
“Can you identify which clauses allow Greykeep to revoke Harwick’s stewardship?”
Uriah paused.
“Not without reading them.”
“Can you explain the history of Lowfield’s boundary changes?”
“No.”
“Can you prove the documents were certified by the Castellan?”
“No.”
Mary closed the ledger.
“I am coming.”
Uriah looked at Eliza.
“Do not involve me,” the captain said. “She is right.”
Melody raised her hand.
“I am coming too.”
“You are not carrying any records.”
“I am carrying Mary.”
“You are not.”
“I could.”
Mary sighed.
“She will follow us if we leave her.”
“That is also true,” Eliza said.
Uriah rubbed his forehead.
“Fine. Mary, Melody, Alistair, Evelyn, and me.”
“Five people,” Evelyn said. “Against Harwick’s citadel.”
“We are going to talk.”
“Harwick sent an army to kill or capture you.”
“And it did not work.”
“That may make him more willing to talk.”
Alistair shook his head.
“It will make him more afraid.”
“Fear can make people reasonable,” Melody said.
“No,” Evelyn replied. “Fear makes people unpredictable.”
Uriah agreed with her.
He had seen terrified soldiers drop their weapons. He had also seen Harwick’s commander order an attack after Uriah stopped four siege stones in the air.
They needed preparation.
“Castellan,” he said, “can the gate return us to Greykeep?”
“Yes.”
“Can anyone follow us through it?”
“Transit access restricted to authorized Crown bearers and persons under their direct protection.”
“How do I authorize them?”
“State authorization.”
“That seems simple.”
“Simple systems reduce procedural failure.”
Uriah smiled. “I like you more every time you speak.”
“I have expressed no preference.”
“You still my bro, though.”
The golden eye appeared faintly across the sealed doors.
Uriah faced the others.
“Mary, Melody, Alistair, and Evelyn are authorized to use the gate under my protection.”
Golden light surrounded them.
“Authorization recorded,” the Castellan said.
Evelyn examined the glow around her boots.
“What happens if you lose provisional authority while we are away?”
“Return access remains available for one hour.”
“And after that?”
“Authorization expires.”
Melody looked less excited.
Uriah pointed toward the doors.
“That is why we do not separate.”
They spent the next hour preparing.
Mary placed certified copies of the deed, grants, tax assessments, and land records into a waterproof document case. The originals remained in Greykeep’s archive.
Alistair selected a plain sword from the restored armory.
Evelyn changed from her traveling coat into light armor bearing the silver tree of House Valewood. Her guards objected when she ordered them to remain behind.
“My presence is already provocative,” she told them. “Six armed retainers would make it worse.”
“Harwick may hold you hostage,” one guard said.
Evelyn looked toward Uriah.
“If he can.”
Uriah checked his sword and hammer.
Melody packed food for a week.
“The trip takes twelve seconds,” he said.
“We might be trapped.”
“That is sensible.”
“I also brought the last onion.”
“You were supposed to leave that for the kitchen.”
“I am protecting it.”
“From whom?”
Melody hugged the pack.
“Everyone.”
“We might as well put an onion on our flags and banners…”
“And three pieces of gold?”
“…..”
Beatrice entered the courtyard carrying another bag.
“This contains bread, cheese, dried apples, and enough food for two days.”
She looked at Melody.
“Give me the onion.”
“No.”
“Give it to me!”
Melody reluctantly surrendered it.
Beatrice walked away.
Uriah watched her go.
“I suppose Greykeep still has a treasury.”
Alistair frowned. “Three gold coins hardly qualify.”
“I meant the onion.”
When they were ready, Uriah approached the western archway.
“Open the transit passage.”
The doors separated.
This time, golden light filled the descending corridor. Symbols moved across the walls like written water.
Uriah entered first.
Mary stayed close behind him, followed by Melody, Evelyn, and Alistair.
The stone doors closed once they passed.
The corridor descended farther than Uriah expected. It spiraled beneath the western wing until the sounds of Greykeep disappeared.
At the bottom waited a circular chamber.
Eight stone arches surrounded a raised platform. Seven were dark. The eighth glowed with the symbol representing Harwick Citadel.
The golden eye of the Castellan watched from the ceiling.
“Transit destination confirmed,” it said. “Western administrative gate. Original designation: Westmere Hold.”
“Not Harwick Citadel?” Uriah asked.
“Harwick Citadel is an unauthorized designation.”
Evelyn smiled. “Harwick would hate hearing that.”
“I am beginning to think many true things upset him.”
Mary approached a stone panel covered in writing.
“This lists the settlements governed from Westmere.”
Names appeared beneath her fingertips.
Lowfield.
Stoneford.
Willowbrook.
Millhaven.
Redwater.
Dozens more followed.
The district was much larger than Uriah had realized.
“How many people live in these lands now?” he asked.
“Current population unavailable,” the Castellan replied. “Final recorded population: forty-eight thousand, six hundred eleven.”
Uriah stared.
Harwick did not control a few farms.
He controlled towns, villages, roads, mills, and tens of thousands of people whose ancestors had once belonged to Greykeep.
“Do not start thinking about claiming all of it,” Evelyn said.
“I was thinking about how many people Harwick can hurt if he panics.”
“That is better.”
“Is it?”
“No.”
The gate activated.
Light filled the chosen arch.
It did not form a flat doorway. The space within it stretched into a tunnel lined with golden rings. At the far end, barely visible, stood another dark chamber.
“Estimated transit time: twelve seconds,” the Castellan said.
Melody stepped toward it.
Uriah caught the back of her cloak.
“I was only looking.”
“You were leaning.”
“I look with my whole body.”
“Stay behind me.”
He drew his sword but left the blade uncharged.
“Castellan, open the return gate if I say the word home.”
“Command recognized.”
Uriah looked at the others.
“Ready?”
“No,” Mary said.
“Yes,” Melody said.
“Enough,” Alistair replied.
Evelyn drew her sword. “Proceed.”
Uriah entered the light.
The world folded.
He did not feel as though he were moving forward. Instead, distance collapsed around him.
For an instant, he saw places between places.
Mountains from above.
A forest beneath moonlight.
Roads stretching across the continent like silver threads.
Other gates waited in distant lands. Some slept beneath ruined cities. Others stood inside palaces, caverns, deserts, and one place surrounded by endless water.
Then the vision vanished.
Uriah stepped into darkness.
The others emerged behind him.
The golden tunnel closed.
A stale smell filled the chamber.
Uriah raised one hand.
A sphere of white light appeared above his palm.
They stood in a room similar to Greykeep’s transit chamber, but smaller and badly neglected. Roots had forced their way through cracks in the ceiling. Dust covered the floor.
Harwick’s yellow hawk had been painted over the open Crown carved into the wall.
Alistair’s expression darkened.
“They defaced it.”
“Paint can be removed,” Uriah said.
He sensed the room.
The exit had been sealed with stone blocks more than six feet thick. Harwick—or one of his ancestors—had deliberately buried the gate.
“Can you open it?” Mary asked.
“Yes.”
“Quietly?” Evelyn added.
“Yes.”
Uriah placed his hand against the barrier.
He did not shatter it.
The blocks separated soundlessly. Dust gathered into a compact sphere instead of filling the chamber. Stones floated aside and arranged themselves neatly along the walls.
The process took seconds.
A narrow passage waited beyond.
Melody looked at the stacked stones.
“You could have done that to Greykeep’s walls when you first arrived.”
“I could have dropped them on myself when I first arrived.”
“You are much better now.”
“Yes.”
Uriah extended his awareness into the surrounding structure.
They were deep beneath the citadel.
He felt storerooms, cellars, wells, guard chambers, towers, and hundreds of people. The fortress was smaller than Greykeep but in far better repair.
He also felt locks.
Many locks.
Some secured ordinary storerooms.
Others sealed rooms containing weapons or coin.
One locked chamber held people.
Uriah stopped.
“What is it?” Mary whispered.
“Prisoners.”
“How many?” Alistair asked.
“Twenty-three.”
“Can you tell who they are?”
“No.”
Evelyn looked toward the upward passage.
“We came to confront Harwick, not search his prison.”
“If they are being held unlawfully—”
“We need information first.”
She was right.
Uriah disliked it.
“Can anyone feel us?” he asked the Castellan.
Its voice came faintly from the gate chamber.
“External fortress systems inactive. Local detection unlikely.”
“Good.”
Alistair checked the passage.
“We should move before someone enters.”
Uriah shook his head.
“We are not sneaking through Harwick’s home.”
“He sent an army against you.”
“And I told him I was coming.”
“You did not tell him how.”
“That sounds like his problem.”
Uriah walked back into the gate chamber and raised one hand.
The stones he had removed floated into the passage.
They did not block it again.
Instead, they shifted around one another and formed a broad staircase ascending through the citadel foundations.
Stone parted overhead.
Roots withdrew.
The staircase continued upward, passing abandoned cellars and sealed rooms. Each level opened before Uriah and repaired itself behind the new path.
Evelyn watched in disbelief.
“What are you doing?”
“Making an entrance.”
“You are rebuilding his fortress.”
“I am improving access.”
Alistair looked upward as the staircase climbed.
“He will consider this an attack.”
“Let him, I am not breaking anything.”
“You are creating a road through his foundation.”
“Yes.”
“That is not better.”
Uriah continued.
The staircase reached the surface.
A circular section of stone floor rose into the air and separated into tiles. Morning sunlight poured down.
Voices shouted above.
Uriah climbed.
He emerged in the center of Harwick Citadel’s main courtyard.
Dozens of soldiers surrounded him.
Training stopped. Weapons left their racks. Archers turned from the walls. Guards rushed from every doorway.
Mary, Melody, Alistair, and Evelyn followed him into the sunlight.
The courtyard fell silent when the soldiers recognized Lady Valewood.
Then they saw Uriah’s weapons.
A captain drew his sword.
“Identify yourself!”
Uriah looked around.
Harwick’s citadel was built from dark stone. Yellow banners hung from every tower. Soldiers watched him with fear and confusion.
He could have entered unseen.
Instead, he had arrived in the center of the fortress
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