Read on below, and pre-order the book ahead of its Jan. 15, 2019 releasehere.
Forging was a power of creation rivaled only by the work of God.
But one House fell.
Credit: Wednesday Books
And another Houses line died without an heir.
Now all that is left is a secret.
Prologue
The Matriarch of House Kore was running late for a dinner.
In the normal course of things, she did not care for punctuality.
Punctuality, with its unseemly whiff of eagerness, was for peasants.
And she was neither a peasant nor eager to endure a meal with the mongrel heir of House Nyx.
What is taking my carriage so long?
she yelled down the hall.
If she arrived too late, she would invite rumors.
Which were a great deal more pesky and unseemly than punctuality.
She flicked at an invisible speck of dust on her new dress.
Her silk gown had been designed by the couturiers of Raudnitz & Cie in the 1st arrondissements Place Vendome.
Taffeta lilies bobbed in the blue silk stream of her hemline.
The Forging work had been seamless.
As well it should be given the steep price.
Her driver poked his head through the entryway.
Deepest apologies, Madame.
We are very nearly ready.
The Matriarch flicked her wrist in dismissal.
Her Babel Ring a twist of dark thorns shot through with blue light gleamed.
And until then, only she and the House Nyx patriarch would know the Rings secrets.
When she touched the wallpaper, a symbol flashed briefly on the gilded patterns: a twist of thorns.
Like every Forged object in her home, the wallpaper had been House-marked.
Shed never forget the first time shed left her House mark on an artifact.
The Rings power made her feel like a goddess cinched to human shape.
Though that was not always the case.
Yesterday, shed stripped the mark of Kore off an object.
Including dinners with the head of a House.
The Matriarch marched toward the open door and stood on the granite threshold.
The cold night air caused the silken blooms on her dress to close their petals.
Surely the horses are ready?
she called into the night.
Her driver did not answer.
She pulled her shawl tighter, and took another step outside.
She saw the carriage, the waiting horses .
Haseveryonein my employ been struck by a plague of incompetence?
she muttered as she walked toward the horses.
Closer to the carriage, she found her driver sprawled facedown in the gravel.
The Matriarch stumbled backward.
Around her, the sounds of the horses stamping their hooves cut off abruptly.
Silence fell like a heavy blade through the air.
Who is there she meant to say, but the words collapsed noiselessly.
Her heels made no sound on the gravel.
She might have been underwater.
She ran for the door, flinging it open.
Chandelier light washed over her and for a moment, she thought shed escaped.
Her heel caught on her dress, tripping her.
The ground did not rush up to meet her.
But a knife did.
Someone prying her Ring from her fingers.
The Matriarch of House Kore did not have time to gasp.
Her eyes opened wide.
In front of her, Forged moth-lights with emerald panes for wings glided across the ceiling.
A handful of them roosted there, like dozing stars.
And then, from the corner of her vision, a heavy rod swung toward her head.
India believed their source of power came from the Bowl of Brahma, a creation deity.
Persians credited the mythical Cup of Jamshid.
The art of Forging is as old as civilization itself.
India believed their source of power came from the Bowl of Brahma, a creation deity.
Persians credited the mythical Cup of Jamshid.
Their beliefs while vivid and imaginative are wrong.
Forging comes from the presence of Babel fragments.
Naturally, wherever a Babel fragment existed, the art of Forging flourished.
The Wests first documentation of its Babel fragment was in the year 1112.
Since then, the art of Forging has achieved levels of unparalleled mastery throughout the continent.
To those blessed with a Forging affinity, it is an inheritance of divinity, like any art.
To Forge is not only to enhance a creation, but to reshape it.
It is the duty of the Order to safeguard this ability.
It is our task, sacred and ordained, to guard the location of the Wests Babel Fragment.
To take such power from us would be, I daresay, the end of civilization.
1: Severin
One week earlier .
Severin glanced at the clock: two minutes left.
Severin tipped back his head.
On the frescoed ceiling, dead gods fixed the crowd with flat stares.
He fought not to look at the walls, but failed.
The symbols of the remaining two Houses of the French faction hemmed him on all sides.
Crescent moons for House Nyx.
Thorns for House Kore.
The other two symbols had been carefully lifted out of the design.
Ladies and gentlemen of the Order, our spring auction is at its close, announced the auctioneer.
Thank you for bearing witness to this extraordinary exchange.
House Nyx, we honor you.
House Kore, we honor you.
Severin raised his hands, but refused to clap.
Severin, last of the Montagnet-Alarie line and heir to House Vanth, whispered its name anyway.
House Vanth, I honor you.
Ten years ago, the Order had declared the line of House Vanth dead.
The Order had lied.
He knew what would happen next.
Light bidding would take place, but everyone knew House Nyx had fixed the round to win the object.
But though House Nyx would win, that artifact was going home with Severin.
The corner of his lips tipped into a smile as he raised his fingers.
At once, a glass from the champagne chandelier floating above him broke off and sailed into his hand.
Tiers of pearly macarons in the shape of a giant swan marked the East exit.
There, the young heir of House Nyx, Hypnos, drained a champagne flute and motioned for another.
Severin had not spoken to Hypnos since they were children.
But that was a lifetime ago.
Severin forced his gaze from Hypnos and looked instead to the lapis-blue columns guarding the South exit.
At the West, four Sphinx authorities stood motionless in their suits and crocodile masks.
Sphinx authorities were the reason no one could steal from the Order.
And no one, not even a Sphinx, would be able to trace where it had gone.
A vulnerable un-marked object was not, however, without its protections.
At the entrance crouched a gigantic quartz lion.
Its crystalline tail whipped lazily against the marble floor.
Severin looked up to the podium where a light-skinned man had stepped onto the stage.
Our final object is one we are most delighted to showcase.
Salvaged from the Summer Palace of China in 1860, this compass was Forged sometime during the Han Dynasty.
Its abilities include navigating the stars and detecting lies from truth, said the auctioneer.
It measures twelve by twelve centimeters, and weighs 1.2 kilograms.
Above the auctioneers head, a hologram of the compass shimmered.
It looked like a rectangular piece of metal, with a spherical indentation at its center.
Chinese characters crimped the metal on all sides.
The list of the compasss abilities was impressive, but it was not the compass that intrigued him.
It was the treasure map hiding inside it.
Out the corner of his eye, Severin watched Hypnos clap his hands together eagerly.
Bidding starts at 500,000 francs.
A man from the Italian faction raised his fan.
500,000 to Monsieur Monserro.
Do I see
Hypnos, of House Nyx, raised his hand.
600,000, said the auctioneer.
600,000 going once, twice
The members began to talk amongst themselves.
There was no point trying in a fixed round.
said the auctioneer with forced cheer.
To House Nyx for 600,000.
The object will be waiting in the designated vessel where you may mark it with your Ring.
Severin waited a moment before excusing himself.
He walked briskly along the edges of the atrium until he made it to the quartz lion.
Behind the lion stretched a darkened hall lined with marble pillars.
The quartz lions eyes slid indifferently to him and Severin fought the urge to touch his stolen mask.
He hadnt been able to find the dratted thing anywhere on the courier.
Severin bowed before the quartz lion, then held still.
The lion did nothing.
Its unblinking gaze burned his face as moments ticked past.
His breath started to feel sticky in his lungs.
He hated how much he wanted this artifact.
There were so many wants inside him that he doubted there was room for blood in his body.
Severin didnt look up from the floor until he heard it the scrape of stones rearranging.
He let out his breath.
His temples pulsed as the door to the holding room appeared.
Without the lions permission, the Forged door would have remained unseen.
