We do not tarry long in Antioch after the Games are cancelled.

Varus loads Domus Pelias into our coaches, and the airhorses pull us across the countryside without stopping. The mood in the Silver carriage is strained and silent. The other gladiators watch me out of the corner of their eyes like I am a wild beast. My Copper veins are still covered with Pliny’s Silvery paint, hiding the true depths of my differences from them. Even Illyrius is reluctant to talk to me. I find myself wishing that I was in the Iron carriage, among people I understand.

Delilah returns with us. I find that interesting, since she was not present when I was confronted by the Censors and consul. I take her accompaniment as a sign that Varus and his compatriots are bracing for a confrontation. Whatever games the senators are playing against the Empress, they feel more comfortable being together than alone.

Or maybe Anas was right about the nature of their relationship.

As we board the carts, Delilah slips over to me, smiling faintly as she reaches out to clasp my right wrist with her left. “Well done,” she murmurs low enough for only me to hear. “I knew I gave Julia’s gift to the right person.”

I sit in silence, overwhelmed by what I have survived in Antioch. I know now that the gods are not as dead as they should be. That might seem obvious. They have been walking with me since the beginning. But their death has been the foundational understanding of my life—the bedrock that my world is built on. It takes the river of truth time to carve through a valley.

The Iron Lords failed. They did not kill the gods, only buried them. Now, four centuries later, they are returning. Nemesis has been freed by my own hand. Mars sent his Herald to find her. Praeco was once dead but somehow gained a second life. There can be no doubt that they are among us. Deos excitare—the gods wake.

Despite this, that is only one portion of the burden that I carry. I have been threatened by the Censors and evaluated by a consul, but not even the returning gods terrify me as much as the sight of the black veins I saw underneath Bellona’s Arena.

There is a necromanta among the priests.

It makes a certain sort of cold sense. The work of both necromantae and priests is concerned with dead things. When we faced Vixa in the cold wastes of the North, I thought of her as a creature of legend, unique and terrifying. But to find another of her order in the open, serving the Empress—as Pontifex no less? I am not sure what to believe. Surely she does not know. Surely no one does. Can it be possible that only I have eyes to notice the darkness that coils around his arms?

I wish that were true, but after what I have seen—after what I know—I doubt it.

But what can I do? I am a Silver slave, no matter what my Symbols are. Who will listen to me when I accuse this Tenebrus, a member of the priesthood, of being a monster that most do not believe in? What business is it of mine what the servants of the Empress do? I have no power—no voice—just a healthy distrust for those who deal with dead things.

Despite my growing fear, I am eager to return to the training facility in Anteforum. It has been impossible for me to find more than a few stolen moments to cultivate any flame essence to feed Unrelenting Fire. No matter what danger finds me in the days to come, I will need to be whole to face them. My reserves are full, but that is not enough to progress through the stages of Copper.

To make matters worse, Ancient Frost has pulled ahead of even Iron and entered the peak stage of argentum. My animus can sense ice at further distances than it can sword or armor. It is the only one of my Symbols that I can openly practice with, giving it an advantage that I can do nothing to stop. It feels like I am holding three candles, each with a smaller wick, and am trying to burn them down at the same time. And if I fail, if my Winter Symbol tries to Ascend while my newest Heart is still Copper, it could fracture my Corda irreparably.

It would be one thing if I only had two Hearts that are at different stages bound to the same Symbol. But I am torn between three that each have their own. I fear that if I were to become both Gold and Copper at the same time, it would fracture my mind.

That is why I am not surprised when Pliny is waiting for me after we arrive in the Pelias compound. As I emerge from the Silver carriage, the short magister stands at the foot of the stairs, a tight, worried smile on his face.

“It is time to get serious,” he tells me, turning on his foot without waiting to see if I will follow.

“Were we not before?” I ask skeptically, breaking into a slight jog to catch up to his side. “I think I’ve been pretty serious this whole time.”

“Circumstances have conspired to prevent us from bringing your Corda into alignment a priority. Now we have time before the Games in Forum to see to your malady properly.” Pliny leads me through the main door of the estate, which makes me stumble in surprise.

I have never been inside the master’s house before. It is not what I expected. Varus is a stoic man. I would have thought that his house would have reflected the minimal aspect of his nature. But instead, it is warm and bright. Paintings of foreign landscapes hang from the walls. A fountain bubbles warmly in the atrium, full of bright fish. The magister shoots an irritated glance over his shoulder at my delay, causing me to scurry once more to catch up to him.

“Sorry, I just thought this would look⁠—”

“You expected it to be like the inside of a general’s field command tent?”

“Well…yes.”

“If it were up to him, it likely would be,” Pliny accedes softly, lowering his voice. “But this is how his wife preferred it.” I open my mouth to ask the question that has been in the back of my mind for weeks, sensing an opportunity.

“Would you be willing to wear an inhibitus?” Pliny’s request is mild, casual even. It takes all my self-control to not twitch violently at the thought of being contained by one of those collars again. I am already bound by too many oaths. I will not be a prisoner again.

“No,” I manage through gritted teeth.

“I thought not,” he admits, unbothered by my terse response.

“Then why ask?”

“It would make things simpler,” he explains, leading me through a different entryway into the same library we have seen before. I pause for a moment to stare up at the mural of the Iron Lord Pelias, who looks down on us.

When he and his companions were walking the path before them, did he ever doubt? What kind of man does it take to ascend to a height that his entire race has never achieved before? I search the strokes of his eyes for advice, but I see nothing, only the grim face of a man who refused to kneel. Unlike him, I know all about kneeling.

Pliny opens the passage to his office, and we go down the long tunnel together. I’m struck by how relaxed I feel now compared to the first time that the magister brought me into his lair. I have grown in power and confidence. He collapses into a chair behind his desk and motions for me to sit across from him.

“Starting now, you are forbidden—forbidden—from using any of your argentum Cor,” he says after we sit down. “You are racing toward the peak of your tier, and we cannot risk you tumbling over the precipice until the time is right.”

“Contessa is not going to like that.”

“The lanista would also not like to see our most promising gladiator hobbled by an avoidable mistake. Dominus Varus has given me imperium over your training until your Corda are in harmony. The three of us are in total agreement on this.”

I swallow tersely before nodding at the man.

“You are going to sit in that Winter locus and cultivate Ancient Frost until your new Cor Ascends. Every minute that you are not in the ring or asleep, you are to be in there. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Magister.” I bow my head.

“Now, we need to discern how close you are to the peak of Silver.” His brow furrows as he thinks. “It can be difficult to quantify because many elements manifest differently. Elder Symbols are rare enough that little is known about their evolutionary patterns…” His voice trails off, and his gaze snaps toward me.

“You killed the thing in the arena with your ability.” It is not a question. “You manifested something other than the gladius with your Glacialis Falx.”

“Yes.” I nod. “But I don’t know if I could do it again. There is still a… resistance to it. I think the circumstances had something to do with it.”

“Good,” he murmurs more to himself than me. “Mastery of your ability would be a clear sign that you were teetering on the edge of Ascension. Stop using it for now. There will be time to solidify your control of it later. It is imperative that you do not break through that barrier too soon.”

“Yes, Dominus.” The honorific slips out of my mouth without thinking. His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t object. My obedience is more important.

“In the meantime, while we are not pushing you toward Gold, there are things we can do to better prepare your body for the Ascension. You are a gifted electi, but there is still time to improve your foundation before you build on it.” I cock my head in surprise. I have never heard of such a thing.

“Different attunements vary in their essence efficiency.” He pulls open a drawer and begins rifling through the ocean of papers and random objects that are gathered there. “Winter Symbols are not a particularly greedy source, although thanks to your ability to manifest Ancient Frost, you have higher demands than most.”

He pulls out a pair of bracelets and places them on the surface of his desk between us. They are made of the drab, dull gray metal that most relics turn after their electus is dead. Curious, I reach out to lightly touch one with my pointer finger.

I shudder as soon as my skin brushes against the metal. A heavy sensation falls across me, like the pressure of being buried alive. Everything is muted and overwhelming. I can breathe, but it feels a thousand times more difficult than it did before. With a gasp, I jerk my hand back, shooting Pliny a betrayed look.

“What is that?”

“It’s called a pondus.”

“A weight?”

“More accurately, ‘a burden,’ but yes. It is designed to make the act of cultivation more difficult, to force your Cor to become even more efficient at extracting essence from its surroundings.” I eye the bracelets distrustfully, imagining how overwhelming it must feel to actually wear them around my wrists.

“Let me guess, you want me to start using them?”

“You excel at pulling in essence. I believe this is due to the extra Corda that you were injected with. My hope is that by using this, it will deepen your reserves as well as prepare the other rasa inside of you so that we can bind the rest of your unused Hearts.”

“You think this will happen again?” I stare at the white lines in my right arm with a sick feeling.

“It seems likely.” Pliny shrugs a little as if not bothered. “We don’t know how much Corda you ingested during your accident.”

“I think there were supposed to be… five Hearts,” I offer hesitantly. I feel a sudden burst of shame, as if admitting how many I took makes the truth worse.

“Bah, that is a meaningless number,” the magister says, waving his hand dismissively. “Until they are fused with a host electus, Corda are very fluid and unstable. Unless they were specifically inserted into you one by one, there’s no way to know how many might have merged or separated into distinct entities. Even I cannot see that with my Symbol. Your rasa is a tangled mess.”

My eyes widen as I realize what he is saying. “You mean I might have more than five Cor Hearts?” I ask softly.

“Or less.” He shrugs again. “You are a rather unprecedented case, Castor. I can only guess at what will happen. But I worry if we push you to Gold too soon and then you unlock another set of veins that start at Copper…” He trails off, letting the implication hang between us.

I swallow, trying to keep my fear off my face. My Corda already betrayed me in the arena, almost getting me killed against the spearvines. I cannot imagine what the force would feel like if I were already Gold when I bound Unrelenting Fire.

“If I use this, it will help me prepare the blank Hearts faster, so I can bring them all to Copper and then Silver before I Ascend?”

“That would be ideal.” Pliny steeples his fingers before his face as he watches my expression. “I do not know what would happen if you have to try to balance a being a Copper and Gold of Ancient Frost at the same time. Copper is a stream, Silver is a river, but Gold is an ocean. I fear you would drown.”

I nod along with his plan, trying not to let the panic eat at me. If only he knew how much worse it was.

For a handful of heartbeats, I debate telling him. I can trust him, I think. He’s so fascinated by what I am, I think he would only become even more obsessed if he knew the truth. But this is not some trite secret. Domuum have been put to the gladius for less. Then the moment passes, and he looks away, gesturing for me to take the bracelets.

“What about my Frost Iron blades?”

“Absolutely not.” Pliny’s head snaps up, and he fixes me with a sharp stare. “You are under no circumstances to use them until I give you permission. Do you understand?” His gaze is so piercing that, for a moment, I think he is my lanista instead of a magister.

“Yes, Dominus,” I manage, choking on my surprise. “But why?”

He sighs in vexation, leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling before turning his gaze down on me with a sharp frown etched on his face. “Did your teachers in collegium like you?”

“Dominus?”

“Your magisters, when you were growing up. Were you one of their favorites?”

“No.”

“I thought not.” He crosses his arms and studies me again, as if deciding whether he can trust me. It takes effort for me to suppress a snort at the irony. Lies within lies, we spin around each other in wheels. Will we make it to our destination, or crash and shatter into a thousand pieces?

At last, he decides. It is going to be trust. “What do you notice when you draw essence from them?”

I frown, trying to dissect what I should and should not know. “I am not fully sure what to make of it,” I admit cautiously. “It is unlike anything else I’ve ever encountered.”

Pliny nods as if unsurprised. “That’s because you haven’t.” He sighs, as if regretting going down this path.

I am still, waiting for him to continue. This is not the first time that Pliny has hinted at the secrets of the Iron Lords. If I am going to survive, I will need all the knowledge that he has and more.

“The Ferrum Domini were incredibly powerful electi. You know this—they teach it to us all. But they were far more powerful than your teachers told you.”

“Why?”

“Because the Iron Lords decided it would be better if not all of their citizens could wield the power to challenge gods.”

I nod slowly. This feels like a familiar story. It is the same reason that the legionnaires wear an inhibitus. Mankind cannot be trusted on a large scale. I shudder to think of someone like Brennus with access to the same kind of power as the Iron Lords.

“Much of what they discovered has been destroyed or hidden, but we still know some things. Julia in particular was renowned for her ability—Creatio.”

“Creation?”

“Just so. It is hinted at in a dozen ancient texts that I have read that she had the ability to manifest new elements. It was she who first made tellus for her Censors.”

My jaw drops as I stare at the magister as I finally understand just how rare Frost Iron is. I assumed that it was some sort of relic, a trick. That somehow, Julia had mashed two known things together, not that she had created something that did not exist.

“New elements? How is that possible?”

He shrugs, as if not particularly concerned about this world-altering fact that he has shared with me. “I have only theories, and they would take more time than you have to understand. But I believe that the gift that Senator Delilah gave you is proof of her ancestor’s capability. A new element that she created for Frigidus centuries ago.”

I can only stare at Pliny for several moments, speechless at the implications. The priests say that the gods created all things at the beginning of time and that ever since then the world has been fixed, completed. There are no new elements, only ones we have not discovered yet. For someone to be able to create one on their own would give them a power that rivals Gaia or Chaos, the long-lost Titans.

“We don’t truly know what it is, even if it is congruent to your Symbol. Do you understand why I don’t want you pulling essence from a synthetic source while your Cor Hearts are in such disarray?”

“I do.”

“Take those.” He gestures his head at the pondus once more. “Fix your Corda, and you can begin to unravel the mysteries of Julia Census.” Reluctantly, I pick up the bracelets, shivering as they drape their suppression over me. It feels like the world goes gray when I touch them, but I will do anything to continue my journey. Hurriedly, I shove the pair into my pocket, breaking their contact with my skin.

I scan the room as I rise, struck by one last thought, a clue from my friend Illy. “You wouldn’t happen to have any books on the nature of Winter and Ice, would you?”