The shot rang loud and clear as Zach fired at the distant target. He missed. He’d never held a gun before, let alone fired one. So, it didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. No. The real problem was the enforcer standing beside him.

  “Again,” the man said.

  Zach took aim, his left eye closed, his right trained on the target, its silhouette black against the afternoon sun. He’d been here now for hours, practicing his stance and hand placement, getting comfortable with the gun. However, shooting was something else entirely.

  He pulled on the trigger. BANG! He didn’t even graze the black figure. Like the other shots, the bullet broke through the surface layer of the paving behind the target. That was the sixth pocked mark he’d made.

  “Hopeless shot,” the man muttered.

  Zach looked at him, but of course, the man wasn’t looking directly at him. They’d been here for hours, and he had yet to meet his eyes. How could someone teach like that? Was it any wonder his shooting was this bad?

  “Look,” he said, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably, “I can’t stand here with you the whole day. We spent the whole morning taking the thing apart. I’m leaving you with five rounds, then you’re done for the day. Got it?”

  Zach nodded, then realized the man hadn’t seen it, so he said, “I got it.”

  “Good.”

  He set five golden bullets down on the stand and immediately went back into the building. Zach lowered the gun, getting a placement with his hands. Like they’d been doing the whole morning, he set the safety and swung the thing over his shoulder.

  He walked away from the firing point, taking seven steps before he turned back, bringing the rifle back to his front, and taking aim. He didn’t fire. All he did was practice that same maneuver. Over and over again, trying not to think about the journal back home.

  When the movement finally came easily enough so he didn’t feel as though he were embarrassing himself, he swung the rifle to his other shoulder, practicing the same movement now from his right.

  The movement was easy enough. The problem was that damn target. Without training his gaze along the length of the rifle, the silhouette looked close enough. But all that changed when he brought the rifle up. Shutting his left eye, the thing almost seemed to blur, as if mocking him.

  If only it were closer, he might actually be able to hit it, maybe even graze it. Wait. He glanced around, confirming that he was alone. The door the enforcer had gone through was closed, and as far as he could see, the windows all stood empty. No one was watching him. At least, not close enough to be a problem.

  He looked back at the target, removing the safety, and strained his right eye until the target was clearer. It might as well have stood directly in front of him. Much better. He took a steadying breath, rolled his shoulders softly, and pulled the trigger.

  It clicked, a hollow sound that seemed to echo within the gun itself.

  He sighed, lowering the rifle. The safety clicked much more softly as he re-engaged the safety. He pushed the release button in, removing the magazine as it came loose. The gun felt lighter, though it seemed impossible the magazine could add that much weight to the weapon.

  He squatted, removing the band from his shoulder before he set the gun down on the ground. Was he supposed to do that? He couldn’t remember. He picked up the first round, pushing it into the magazine’s top, sliding it to the back before he pushed in further. All five slid in without a problem, and he locked it back into place.

  Following the enforcer’s advice, he pushed his arm through the band once more. On an expedition, it was important that you didn’t lose your gun. Once it sat over his shoulder again, he took aim, removing the safety.

  Like before, straining his right eye brought the target into focus. He took another steadying breath and finally pulled the trigger. Having a clear view of the target, he saw the bullet punch into it before it broke into fragments and fell to the ground.

  Not where he’d been aiming, not even close, but he’d still hit it. He’d fooled his mind by erasing the distance between him and the target, but not his body. It was still difficult to keep his hands still as the thing fired.

  Another breath, and he fired the last four. One by one, the bullets hit the target before they fell harmlessly to the ground. None of them hit the center ring, but they came closer than they’d gone when the enforcer had been watching him.

  He lowered the gun, struggling to keep his eye strained. Never mind target practice, he should be working on straining his senses. There were too many inconsistencies. Why could he only do it sometimes? And why could he hold it longer at certain times? Why had his hearing been so sensitive the last time? Why had he strained both his hearing and sight the time before that?

  Just be grateful it didn’t happen now, while you’re carrying a gun. In hindsight, perhaps that had been reckless. Anyway, he was out of ammo, which meant that was the end of that. Empty or not, he engaged the safety again.

  He turned for the door, and something caught his attention. Off to his right, a large pinboard was set into the base’s wall. He frowned. Those looked like newspaper articles. Before he knew it, he was heading in that direction.

  For the first time since awakening in this world, Zach recalled the date. It was the year 1916. Their years were calculated differently, but from what Zach could remember from Oliver’s life before the collapse, they’d been well into the 21st Century.

  The articles were dated 1909. Exactly seven years ago. The subjects in the photographs all had a familial bearing to Eve and Darlene. He read one of the headlines. TETTRALIS SPLINTERS

  “The Emerys have seized control of Tettralis. Taking advantage of the president’s absence, along with most of the high-ranking generals, the Emerys have won the civil war that has plagued the country for months on end...”

  The paper ended there. There was no second page to continue from, so he moved to the next article. THE EMERYS ISSUE RETURN ORDER. The picture just below the headline was of Thomas Emery, former Head of Camp Twelve, before his death.

  “Late last Thursday, the Emerys issued an immediate return order to the Tettralian forces currently engaged in the conflict on Erosa. President Thurne fought the order, saying the Emerys have no right to do that, calling their rule unconstitutional.

  “Thousands of soldiers are obeying the order. The growing sentiment is that they no longer believe the war is worth the effort. They believe the Emerys came to power legally...”

  The article ended there. Zach was stunned. How could a family take control of an entire country? Though he could see why the soldiers would so quickly and so easily accept the regime change. It meant they could come home. It meant they no longer had to lay down their lives.

  The enforcers’ loyalty suddenly made sense. If the whole world saw what had happened at the war site, demons crawling through, relishing in all the bloodshed, the soldiers must’ve viewed the Emerys as more than saviors.

  Another headline: CITIZENS EXPELLED FROM LOWER HALF OF TETTRALIS

  “In a surprising edict, citizens who refused to acknowledge the Emerys as the legitimate rulers of Tettralis were banished to the northern half of the country. Locals will know that over the last few decades, the Emerys have spent a large portion of their wealth buying land, cultivating it into the agricultural powerhouse the country had quickly become known for...”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Zach shook his head. Had they known? That couldn’t be. The most likely scenario was that the Emerys had been survivalists, a trait every generation had shared. But enough to feed a population? The level of work that must’ve taken...

  That was the last article on this side of the board. He went back to the beginning, past the first one he’d read. This paper looked older than the rest by far. Over the years, the ink had faded away in many sections. The subject in the black and white photograph was barely visible.

  EMERYS VOW TO ALWAYS SERVE THE COUNTRY

  “In what is considered the biggest political donation in the history of the country, the Emerys have given LX400 million, pledged through different organizations. In a move that practically secured the election, this is now the sixth president installed by the Emerys...”

  It suddenly occurred to him, through Oliver’s understanding of Tettralis, that not only were presidents elected by how much money they brought in during an election cycle, but also by how they distributed that money to the benefit of the country.

  Throughout the ages, the country had functioned as an economic power, which meant the president had to understand how economics worked. Things like laws had been decided by a council similar to what Camp Twelve now used. Representatives would discuss legislation with those they represented and vote accordingly.

  It made sense that the powerful and wealthy ran a country. What would poor people know about financial management? Dimly, he could remember Oliver reading something like that in a textbook... or rather, in a key!

  That was how Heptons viewed society. Which is probably another reason these people accepted Emery rule so readily.

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?” a voice asked.

  Zach spun and found an old man in an expensive suit standing there. He hadn’t heard the man approach.

  “I’m sorry?” Zach asked, swallowing hard. There was something very disturbing about this man.

  “Your family’s history,” he said, indicating the papers. “Why, it’s almost a shrine, isn’t it? A dedication to your family’s rule.”

  Zach took a step back before he realized the door back into the base was behind the man. The idea of walking past him to get to that door terrified him in ways he couldn’t explain. Particularly when the man turned to face him.

  Zach blinked, thinking it must be a trick of the light, but the man’s eyes seemed to have a red tint to them. Not the sort that came from lack of sleep, but an ethereal cast. Zach felt himself going still, a slow chill spreading over his body.

  “I do apologize for this,” the man said, his voice, deep and rich, filling Zach’s mind. “You are an Emery, but I think your Sin will forgive me. You smell of Theurgy. I’ve been trying to locate the vermin within the camp, but they elude me. Where are they?”

  In the Dreamhold, Zach thought instantly. Gazing into the man’s eyes, the words came unbidden. They wanted to be uttered. But he held his tongue. The man narrowed his eyes, the red glowing even deeper.

  “Your Sin will be happy to know that at least someone in his family shows promise. And you’re rather advanced to withstand me.”

  What is going on? He was so sick of asking that question.

  “A battle of will—”

  Zach’s eyes rolled back as darkness descended. A crashing wave that swept his consciousness out of his body. He had the sensation of falling from a great height. All sound hollowed out around him until there was nothing left, just an empty vacuum.

  “Where are we?” the man asked.

  Zach looked up, realizing he’d landed on some hard surface. Everything was black. Silver cracks splintered the air all around them, more forming by the minute, each sharp crack sounding like breaking glass.

  “What is this?” the man asked.

  A loud vibration fell over everything. A sound, a sensation—Zach could feel his body shaking to that frequency. High in the sky, a tower jutting out of a bed of rock the size of a mountain came floating down.

  Inexplicably, he understood the vibrations came from the tower forcing itself into this plane, this realm, like a drill being forced through a wall.

  Where it broke through the black, an endless star-strewn night sky showed behind it. Oliver’s words came to him then. Seven towers floating above the world. The strange man looked up at the tower, his eyes going wide.

  “Zachary...” a voice called.

  Zach turned around and found a woman lying on the ground not too far away. Well, she looked like a static-gray cutout of a woman more than anything. But those eyes... Those eyes were real. They turned and locked onto his gaze. A deep, familiar pain inside them.

  “Zachary, promise me,” the woman said.

  Her words felt like a knife stabbing into his heart. Stabbing, twisting, yanking, and stabbing all over again. That same process repeated over and over, until he was left with the ruined thing that now sat in his chest.

  Slowly but surely, the woman started taking form, her clothing materializing with her. The static gray of her dress started bleeding splotches of white, the bodice covered with loose lace and stained with blood. Zach watched until her entire dress had materialized before he turned away.

  He couldn’t see her skin. He couldn’t see her face. The sound of her voice was already too much to bear. His breath came in fits and starts. As he doubled over, his eyes found the strange man standing just ahead of him.

  The man’s body was breaking apart. There was no other way to put it. Wet pieces of meat, dripping with blood and gore and bone, falling to the ground with a nauseating slap. Somehow, his suit stayed intact, the blood from the broken ends of his body soaking through the fabric.

  “Zachary...” the woman said again. “Be brave. And make sure you—”

  “Shut up!” Zach growled, the wall in his mind burning with emotions he dared not name.

  The woman went quiet. Before he could wonder at that, the man started screaming, the sound hollow, resonant, deep, and rich all at once. The pieces of him that lay on the black ground started fading.

  He’s leaving.

  The thought came from nowhere, but he knew it was true. The man was trying to escape. What if he left him here?

  “Wait!” Zach shouted.

  The man froze, the pieces of his arms on the floor stopping in the midst of their fading. The man’s face turned pale, his eyes going hard and lethal. There was a deathly anger to him, but still Zach approached him. The alternative was that he remained stuck in this realm.

  “Take me back,” he told the man, refusing to glance at the woman behind him.

  “You mock me,” the man sneered. The look lasted a moment before his eyes widened in shock.

  “You’re the Claimant. The transmigrator. But Master William said you were trying to Claim Severity. This makes no sense. It is impossible to be Claimed by two Forces. Who are you?”

  Suddenly, he glanced up at the descending tower. The man was shaking, fear the only emotion in his eyes. “You’ll kill us. I don’t know who you are, but if they find us, they’ll kill us! Take us back. You have to take us back!”

  This was a Creational Force? Something about it did seem familiar. A second after that thought formed, another crack echoed sharply, a jagged white line forking through the air, as if reality itself were breaking.

  From on high, a stone hallway started jutting out from the base of the tower. It stretched through the air, forming at right angles, building on and on as it made its way down to where Zach stood with the broken man.

  He strained his eyes until he could see into the mouth of the hallway. Each stone glowed with its own soft light, illuminating the darkness within as clearly as any overhead light might’ve done.

  Standing tall within all that light was a strange being, her radiance almost as blinding as the sun itself. Still, he got the impression that she was inspecting him. Inspecting the strange realm. There was something lethal about her.

  “Please!” the man shouted. “Send us back! It’s your realm, but they will crush you! Send us back!”

  Send us back? My realm?

  The vibrations deepened as the hallway continued to descend, the being shifting as if readying herself.

  He felt a line forming between them. A line that slowly took on the being’s radiance. That felt wrong. Perverted in some way. She shouldn’t be touching him in that manner. If he hadn’t strained his eyes, he might’ve missed her raising her hands, reaching for the connection.

  No!

  The thought brought another loud crack through the air, the jagged line severing the connection.

  Everything went black.

  He could feel that wall in his mind solidify, could feel as it doubled its size, shutting that realm behind it, shutting that being behind it, shutting the woman and the emotions surrounding her behind it as well.

  He blinked his eyes and found he was at the shooting range, the strange man still standing in front of him, softly shaking his head as he frowned.

  “I must’ve overworked myself back in the hold,” the man said, looking around as if he were trying to remember something.

  “I suppose the smell wafted off your mother and onto you. My apologies. Though I wonder what vermin of that sort would want with an Emery...” He muttered under his breath.

  Zach swallowed, trying to make sense of the fogginess clouding his mind. Had he said something?

  The man massaged his temples as though he were still trying to recall something. “How strange. It must be the awful temperature of the southern region. I ask that you excuse my manners. I have work to do.”

  He inclined his head and headed for the door.

  Zach frowned, turning back to the articles on the pinboard. He couldn’t explain why, but for some reason, the wall in his mind seemed stronger than ever before. Larger, even. He couldn’t help feeling like he’d remembered something important only to have forgotten it again.

  Maybe he’s right. It must be this damn heat.