PROLOGUE Jun
Eight Years Ago
on a cold, grey morning the colour of mould, Kuang Jun gazed out at the sea, and saw a boy with no face.
It was his tenth birthday party, and his mother had invited everyone from his year five class, expecting a warm spring day at the beach just outside town. But thick clouds had swept in from the Shuijing Ocean, choking the sun, and now four dozen schoolkids were shivering on the sand with their parents, sad, weak flames burning in a firepit. The paper bowls of longevity noodles were going cold, oil congealing at the bottom of the serving dish. At Jun’s request, his mother had also baked a Caimorian-style vanilla cake. Shenten was at war with the westerners, and she’d had to skip lunch for two months to afford the ingredients. Jun had eaten four slices. But even that wasn’t enough to lift the mood.
Jun stood at the edge of the water, away from the others, and held back tears. His toes dug into the sand, waves crashing over his feet. His mother had come over to hug him, and Jun had pushed her away, shrinking back from her pity.
Jun gazed out at the sea, at the grey skies and the endless, dark ocean stretching over the horizon. A frigid wind blew across the waves, making his teeth chatter. Then he blinked.
A figure was out on the water. A distant silhouette, standing on the ocean like it was solid ground. It looked like a boy, dressed in plain clothes and facing away from the beach.
A thick black liquid covered its skin like wet paint, pooling beneath it on the ocean, smoke rising off the surface. Acid .
Something plucked in Jun’s stomach, an icy sensation that seeped into his whole body. He took a step back, his knees shaking.
Then the boy turned round.
It had no face.
On the creature’s head, there was no mouth, no nose or brow or forehead, only a flat dark surface where its face should be. Its eyes were missing, and in the hollow sockets, black tears streamed out like blood from a wound, dribbling into the ocean. Its shoulders hunched, its long, skeletal arms brushing its ankles.
A twisted hollow opened up inside Jun, a yawning space that threatened to swallow his entire being. It felt hard to breathe.
The creature turned its head, and looked at him.
A muted scream escaped Jun’s lips. It came out as a soft hiss, the sound of air leaving a punctured tyre.
Something invisible seemed to snap in the air, like the shattering of a bone.
He turned to run, and the beach went silent.
The chattering of the kids, the grumbling of their parents, all vanished. Every conversation went dead. Mouths hung open, but no speech came out.
The adults and children stood like stones on the beach.
They found their voices, but could only make vague, garbled sounds, stuttering gibberish.
Nervous laughter spilled out of a girl as she clutched her head, fingers digging into her skull. A boy dropped his plate, and cake spattered across the sand. One of the girls started crying, tears and mucus running down her face, racking sobs tearing through her body.
The party exploded into movement, scattering on the beach. Parents grabbed their children and raced away, stumbling up the dunes in the grey light.
Mom. Jun needed to find his mom. He darted through the chaos, blood rushing in his ears. ‘Mom!’ he shouted. ‘Mom!’
It didn’t occur to him until later that he was speaking out loud. Speaking, when the whole world seemed to have lost its tongue.
He staggered over the sand, gasping. His mother was standing in front of the cake. Her arms hung at her sides, her blue sundress blowing in the wind.
‘Mom! What’s going on?’ Jun hugged her, burying his face in the soft folds of her skirt. ‘What’s going on?’ Silence.
Jun pulled back. His mother hadn’t budged, hadn’t returned his embrace.
‘Mom?’
His mother’s mouth opened and closed, her lips failing to form coherent sounds. Her mouth and tongue were both stained black, like dried blood.
Jun looked back to the ocean. The boy with no face had vanished.
All that remained were the waves, dark and eternal, climbing higher with each passing second.
It took Jun half an hour to drag his mother home.
What’s going on? Was it some kind of disease? Was that
why everyone’s mouth had been turned black? Why no one in Kaihua could speak or read?
Something had wrenched in his mother’s mind, in everyone’s mind but Jun’s, and the entire Shenti language had become an impossible puzzle.
For most people in the country, Shenti was the only language they could think in.
Jun thought back to the mutterings from the past month, of the Caimorian witch who’d burned whole cities to the ground. Khaiovhe, they’d called her. Was this her doing?
The next day, Jun walked himself to school down the road, only to find it empty. The streets too were empty, the houses dark, the radio stations all turned to static. The local grocery store was barren, the shelves cleared out from top to bottom.
On his way back, he glanced at the bridge connecting the island to the mainland of Shenten. A battleship was burning on the water, smoke pouring out of its steel hull, bright orange flames licking over the deck.
It drifted north along the coast, a floating pyre against the grey sky.
From then on, Jun slept in his mother’s bed, like he did when he was younger. He lay under the covers, his arms wrapped round her, letting her warmth ease the panic at the back of his throat.
A week passed. The water rose further, swallowing the beach, covering the outermost blocks of the island. Every night, Jun watched the dark waves from his window, listening to the muffled sobs from his mother.
On the seventh night, Jun woke in the darkness, to find himself alone on the bed. A wrinkled impression sat on the mattress where his mother had been.
Jun was sprinting downstairs before he knew it. ‘Mom!’ His voice was deafening in the silence. ‘Mom!’
The front door hung open, a faint breeze drifting through. Jun ran through the empty blocks, splashing through the flooded street. ‘Mom!’ he shouted. ‘Mom!’
No one answered. The only sound was the soft lapping of water, and the gentle splash of waves in the distance.
The waves.
Jun sprinted for the outskirts of town, the water growing deeper as he ran. It seemed to be covering half the town now, swallowing streets and alleys.
As he ran, an enormous silver snake wound through the night sky above him, its coils twisting through the clouds. An oracle snake. An omen of historic events to come.
He found his mother at the edge of the ocean, standing in the dark waves.
‘Mom!’ he shouted, his voice weak. He waded after her, until the water was up to his chest, chilling his bones, dragging his limbs back like mud. ‘Mom!’
His mother turned back to look at him.
Black tears ran down her face, staining her cheeks like ink.
Then she turned from him, and swam out into the sea.
Jun pushed after her, and a wave crashed into him, knocking him underwater. He coughed, spitting out salt water, and screamed at her. He screamed and screamed, but she kept swimming.
He fought the waves for minutes, hours, until his mother had vanished from sight. He peered over the horizon, eyes burning, muscles aching. The silence was overwhelming.
Then something stirred, out on the ocean. A flicker of dark movement, heading in his direction.
It wasn’t his mother.
Raw animal terror overtook Jun. He turned and ran out of the waves, splashing through the streets, panting, dizzy. Then he kept running, his shoes squeaking on the cobblestones,
blood rushing in his ears. Buildings shot past him, empty houses and dark windows all melted into a blur.
He sprinted across the bridge connecting the island to the mainland, his chest aching, his body thudding with every footfall. It felt like a bad dream, half real, the dark air closing round him like smoke. The only sounds were his gasping breaths and the faint pulse of his heart.
As he stumbled onto the mainland, Jun staggered to a stop, wheezing, leaning on his knees, with salt water dripping from his hair.
Then he felt it again. A presence, behind him. Approaching like the tide.
He spun round, looking back towards the town. Waves rippled out from the island, crashing into the cliff below. But they made no sound, the silence devouring everything.
Something moved underwater.
At first, Jun thought it was a whale. But it was far too large. Far too misshapen.
A great, dark thing rose from beneath the island, as wide as a mountain.
A hand, Jun realised. With fingers the size of peninsulas, covered with glistening black acid.
He took a step back and fell, scraping his hands on the paved road. He crawled backwards, away from the water, choking.
The giant inky hand lifted out of the ocean, cupping the town of Kaihua within its grasp, scooping it from the earth like sand in a child’s fist.
Slowly, inexorably, the island sank into its palm, dribbling through its fingers, melting like black tar.
CHAPTER 1 Ana
i stared down the deadliest Humdrum in Caimor, wearing the face of his closest friend.
I stood on top of Khaiovhe’s submarine, my bare feet resting on the steel hull. The ship cut through the dark waves, propellers drawing a white line in our wake. Black flames raced up and down the cloak over my shoulders, conjured with illusions.
My sweaty fingers gripped the butterfly knife in my pocket. ‘Korin Nameless. The bombmaker. I need his location.’
Stone puffed a cigarette, impassive behind his mask. ‘The traitor?’ He shrugged. ‘Somewhere east, across the ocean in Shenten. In some warlord’s dungeon, probably.’
Khaiovhe’s records said almost nothing about the Humdrum who served as her right hand, who hid his face behind a stone mask. I knew only fragments: Stone was almost sixty, and despite that fact, despite his crooked fingers and his limp, he refused to leave his birth body, for reasons unknown.
And he had a staggering rap sheet. The man before me had killed more members of the Eldritch Guard than anyone in
the revolution, except the Black Wraith, Khaiovhe herself. With a Voidsteel bullet and the element of surprise, even a Humdrum could bring down an experienced battle mage. I’d been avoiding him for the last two weeks, like a spider in the corner of my bedroom.
After all, I’d murdered his boss and stolen her body.
In the chaos of Commonplace’s attack on Paragon, I’d chased after the witch called Sophie Nameless. One exhausted girl, facing down Khaiovhe herself. I’d swallowed a fistful of poison, and tricked her into swapping with me. Now I had her job, along with a score of subordinates who would kill me if they knew my identity.
Stone’s cigarette glowed in the darkness. ‘Why the sudden interest in the bombmaker?’
Because he’s my friend. The real Khaiovhe had kidnapped him in secret, sold him to the Shenti. He could be getting tortured at this very moment, rotting in some frozen corner of the world. Worse, the boy was still wearing his grandmother’s body. If he was shivering in a cell somewhere, his aged chassis wouldn’t last long.
While I’d familiarised myself with my new job, Nima had been searching for him for six weeks. Sending messages, directing Khaiovhe’s spies, scouring the witch’s files for a clue, a hint. But they’d found nothing. Korin could be anywhere on the eastern continent.
‘I gave away Korin Nameless with some haste,’ I lied. ‘He still has knowledge I was unable to wring from him. Perhaps we’ll meet him, during our travels.’
‘Our travels?’
‘We’re going east. To Shenten.’ After eight years in a rotting Edgar chassis, my voice sounded so light out of these lips, so melodious.
Stone banged the hull with his boot heel. ‘This sub wasn’t
built for trips across two oceans. We’ll run out of fuel before we make it halfway.’
Prophets. I was supposed to know that.
In the aftermath of my body swap, Nima had run up to Khaiovhe as she lay on the floor, her body dead, her unconscious Pith fading away piece by piece. They’d used their Praxis Codex, Copycat, to steal her skills and identity passwords. With that, her body and illusions, I’d been able to scrape by with this disguise. I’d kept contact with Commonplace to a minimum. Every word was another chance for them to discover me.
But I had no choice. I needed Stone. This was our last chance to find Korin. We had to go east with Commonplace, smoke out whichever warlord had locked him up. And Sophie’s submarine was the fastest, stealthiest way over the ocean.
So here I was, sweet-talking a man who could kill me without blinking.
‘I’ll handle the fuel,’ I said. ‘You worry about the rest.’
Stone blew smoke into the night. I noted the loaded pistol at his waist. ‘In less than a week, Shenten will be crawling with Caimorian soldiers. If we get caught in their invasion, the Eldritch Guard is going to pop our hull like a balloon. Besides, Shenten still thinks you’re a mass murderer. That you burned half their cities during the last war.’
‘Lies from the false king,’ I hissed. Wes’s father, posing as a young boy. Wes. I stifled the rush of pain at that name. ‘Let Adam Weaver – let Tybalt Ebbridge – spin his falsehoods. Many in Shenten know the truth. They may not greet me with cheers, but they will not seek my head. They need us.’
‘Maybe,’ said Stone. ‘Why Shenten?’
‘Thousands of our people are fleeing there. Our sympathetic fellows in parliament have been arrested.
Our top members are vanishing into prisons, and the PM’s declared martial law.’
Stone said nothing, puffing on his cigarette.
‘Therefore,’ I said, ‘we join with our Shenti brethren.’
‘Breathe in. What do you smell?’
I breathed in deep through my nose. After nine years in a rotting Edgar chassis, the ability to smell still felt foreign sometimes.
A thick, pungent stench burned in my nostrils. Stone made a gesture, and lights flickered on the sides of the hull, casting a pale glow onto the water.
Khaiovhe’s submarine was sailing through a field of dead fish.
A carpet of animal corpses bobbed on the water, scales glinting in the harsh light, wet pink bellies exposed to the air. They stretched as far as the eye could see. As we sailed through the floating graveyard, we passed the rotting carcass of a whale, gazing up at it like a black mountain over the sub.
‘Fish are turning up dead,’ said Stone. ‘More and more each month. The deep water is poison. Soon, we won’t have anything to eat, except for what we grow on land. And the land is shrinking.’
I stared at the ocean rushing past us. The water was a bottomless pit, stretching into the darkness.
‘We should die here,’ said Stone. ‘In Caimor. Not in some war on the far side of the globe.’
‘Unless you want to die alone, that foreign war is the only way we’re getting any allies.’
Stone put out his cigarette, grinding it on the hull. ‘How many years have I fought by your side, Sophie?’
‘Many.’
‘How many drinks did we share? Planning. Confiding. Moonlight vigils stretching deep into the night.’
Sweat collected on the back of my neck. ‘Many.’
‘You always strove to be an exemplar. Never compromised on your principles. No ocean or darkness could ever quell the fire in your heart.’
‘Stone, what are you talking about?’
‘Sophie Nameless. The Black Wraith. Khaiovhe.’ He shook his head. ‘I think I’ll be mourning you for the rest of my life.’
An ear-splitting crack rang through the air.
Stabbing pain erupted in my ribs, and I dropped onto my back, slamming on the metal.
Stone held a smoking pistol in his hand. I didn’t even see him reach for it.
I clutched my chest, coughing. Every breath sent spasms of pain into my ribs. There was no blood, no puncture wound. Just a dull ache where the round had struck me, and a red welt spreading on my skin. Rubber bullet. He shot me with a rubber bullet.
Silver knelt beside me, and injected a syringe into my thigh. An icy sensation flooded my veins, bleeding up my spine. I reached for my illusions, and felt an invisible wall slam shut around my mind, blocking my magic. Null Venom.
‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ he said.
My stomach wrenched. The rushing water echoed in my ears.
‘I said, do you think I’m stupid, Ana?’
My pulse thudded in my ears. ‘How?’ I wheezed.
‘Bloody children.’ He snorted. ‘Your friendly attitude towards the traitor, Nima Qasemi. Your obsession with Korin Nameless. Your walk, your speech, your avoidance of me. But the most obvious?’ He flicked the side of my arm. ‘Darkfire is supposed to be hot, genius.’
My chest burned, stabbing pain spreading over my ribs.
He loaded a Voidsteel bullet into his gun, and pulled back the hammer. ‘And now you’re trying to take my sub.’
This is a coup, I realised. He’s trying to take Commonplace from me.
‘Your sub?’ I pushed myself to a sitting position, coughing. ‘I want you to listen very carefully. Think of how dangerous Khaiovhe was. All the people she burned through like dry leaves in a campfire. And think. What kind of person could extinguish such a flame?’ Talking hurt, shooting pain throughout my chest. ‘We fight for the same cause. We share the same enemies. But you do not command this organisation. I do.’
‘What is a floater?’ said Stone. ‘How does one go about setting up a clandestine cell? How do you conduct counterintelligence, to prevent spies from infiltrating your ranks? How do you prosecute a war against an enemy with a thousand times your military strength?’
My ears rang. It felt like I was going to cry.
‘We’re a national revolution, composed of hundreds of interlocking subdivisions. We need a leader. And you’re a child with a kitchen knife. A child who murdered our leader.’
The gun pressed into my forehead, and I shrank back from it.
When I spoke again, my voice sounded smaller, weaker. ‘I just wanted to live,’ I murmured. ‘I just wanted to live.’
Stone’s finger tightened on the trigger. The barrel was cold against my forehead. One loud bang. The bullet would come quick. Too quick for any pain.
Then Stone sighed, and lowered the gun. ‘I do pity you, poor thing. So, I’ll do you this courtesy.’ His voice hardened. ‘Your friend Korin Nameless. They’ll cut off his head in nine days. You have no chance of rescuing him in time. But at least you can mourn his passing.’ He leaned in close, moonlight glinting off his mask. ‘Go back to school, grey girl. The adults are here.’
He kicked me in the stomach.
I slid down the curved hull of the submarine, and splashed into the ocean headfirst. The water crashed into my face, burning my eyes, filling my throat.
I burst through the surface, clutching my chest as I coughed. The submarine chugged past me, and its wake splashed me in the face, tossing me like a rag doll.
It shrank in the darkness, receding over the horizon. And then it was gone.
