Anne Bishop - Sebastian

So we will stay and guard this place. We will protect the people by restraining Ephemera as much as we can. And we will nurture the hope of someday restoring our world by protecting Ephemera from the human heart.

—The Lost Archives

It swam beneath the sand, but only those with magic running in their veins would notice the rippling dark shadow that soured the land as It passed—and left behind a seductive lure to give in to the dark feelings the heart usually kept well hidden. All creatures responded to the Dark and the Light, but humans, with their agile minds, had always been the best prey—because It had been made to be their predator.

Which was what brought It back to the part of the bonelovers’ landscape It had anchored to the place called the Den. Full of darkness, yes, but at the core there was Light that made It greedy to devour—and made It shiver. The Den was filled with the same powerful resonance that had given Ephemera the strength to resist reshaping more than a small anchor point in that other dark, demon landscape.

That would change. The incubi and succubi had become feeble creatures, contaminated by the human prey. But the purebloods that had been caged in Its landscapes were still powerful, still belonged to the Dark. They would be real hunters—and once they reached the Den, their presence would change the Den’s resonance, would dim the Light.

As It rose to the surface, Its massive form shrank, shifted. A moment later a handsome, elegantly dressed man stood on the rust-colored sand.

A moment after that, Its scream of rage made even the bonelovers scurry away from feelings so dark and primal.

Where an alley should have been, there was nothing but stone. Huge tumbled boulders blocked Its path. Even if It made the effort to scramble over them, It knew It would find nothing but stones.

As It beat Its fists on the stones, It felt that same powerful resonance at the core of this strange landscape.

Panting, It braced scraped, bloodied hands against the stones as It tried to crush the fear taking root inside It.

The creatures called Landscapers were so diminished they were no longer a threat, were no more than feeble barriers standing in the way of Its desire to turn all of Ephemera into dark landscapes full of terrors shaped from the heart’s deepest fears.

But the one who had touched this place…

A True Enemy was still out there. Somewhere.

Changing back to Its natural form, It swam beneath the sand until It reached the pile of bones that were Its anchor to the lair of the Landscapers and Bridges.

Its form shrank, shifted, grew eight legs. Its front legs lifted the bones It had turned into a trapdoor that led down to the tunnel that would take It back to the school.

Fifteen years had passed since she’d walked down this path at the school, but she remembered the feel of it—the sly rage, the envy and jealousy, the bitter despair that seemed to seep up from the ground beneath the flagstones. Feelings none of the other students, or even the Instructors, had been aware of.

It felt different now, muted, as if those feelings, once so concentrated under this path that led to the oldest garden at the school, were spread out in a thin skin. But just as potent.

And she remembered her mother’s warning as she took another step toward the forbidden.

Being at the school…It’s an exciting time in your life, Glorianna. You’ll be with so many young women who have a power like yours, the same life’s work. And there will be the young men who are training to be Bridges. They provide a different kind of excitement. But despite the power you and the others will learn to wield for the good of Ephemera, you are all, in many ways, still children. And children are not always wise, because they want to be strong and brave and adult—and, therefore, they do not always want to believe that the things adults are afraid of are things that truly should be feared, that should be left alone. That was true when I attended the school. I doubt your classmates will be any different.

So you must heed this warning, Glorianna.

“You there!”

She walked toward the archway. Each step took a moment, took a lifetime.

The Instructors will take you to an archway and show you the walled garden with the wrought-iron gate. Inside that old garden is a simple stone wall. They will tell all of you that you must never step through that archway, must never approach that sealed gate.

But children will always want to prove their daring and bravery in front of their peers. So some of them will sneak out at night and go to the archway. They’ll taunt one another into proving their courage by crossing that poisonous ground of thorn trees and bloated mushrooms—and then they will touch the gate to prove they aren’t afraid of what was sealed behind that stone wall.

“You there! Stop!”

They’ll tease you, call you names, say that you’re afraid. But, daughter, you must not step through that archway. You must not touch that gate. You are not…quite…like the rest of the students. We come from an old lineage, a secret held by the women of our house. It must remain a secret for the sake of our world.

Those children, your classmates…They won’t believe what the Instructors tell them—that what is contained will become aware of their presence once they cross the archway and step on ground It defiles with Its existence. They won’t believe something locked away from the world can truly sense them—or harm them.

But sometimes It does sense them, Glorianna, and It can harm them. Those who approach without the respect due a powerful enemy…Well, things…happen. People get swallowed by the world, lost in the landscapes instead of making their life journey. Even Bridges. Even Landscapers.

“You there!”

What is contained within that garden, Mother?

The—

The flagstone shifted under her foot, just enough to banish memories and make her see her surroundings with painful clarity.

She looked down, then carefully lifted her foot and took a step back. Instead of hard earth, the space between that flagstone and the others was filled with rust-colored sand.

Boots slapped the flagstones on the path behind her.

She looked at the land near the archway—and shuddered.

A hand clamped on her upper arm and yanked her around to face a stern, middle-aged man who wore a Bridges badge on his tunic.

Not stern, Glorianna decided as she studied his face. Grim. Worried. Afraid.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “This part of the school is forbidden to everyone. You should know that, Landscaper.”

Of course he knew she was a Landscaper. He’d be able to sense that power in her, just as she would have known he was a Bridge even without the badge.

“The wall has been breached,” she said. “ It is out here in the world, Bridge, and the landscapes that were sealed by that wall are no longer contained. It is no longer contained.”

“Nonsense. That wall has stood for centuries.”

“The wall has been breached.” She stabbed a finger in the direction of the archway. “Look at the ground. If everything was as it should be, that shouldn’t be possible.”

He looked where she pointed—and she felt him tremble.

To the right of the path, growing in the shadow of the wall, the ground was speckled with young mushrooms. To the left, dark seedlings rose up from the rotted fruit of the thorn trees.

He shook his head. “The magics—”

“Aren’t strong enough anymore to hold back the things It shaped.” She jerked free of his hold on her arm. “You have to warn the Landscapers to guard the places in their keeping and hold those places in the Light, regardless of how strongly the people there may resonate the darker feelings of the heart. You have to tell the Bridges to break the bridges they’ve created and isolate the landscapes. It’s the only chance to find—”