Esther woke up from what felt like an eternity of sleep, feeling achy, confused, and somehow still tired.

  She remembered snippets. Walls the color of sand. Perfumes. Cold stone underfoot. She had the sense that she had been awake before, but she couldn’t be sure.

  All she knew was that she was now lying on a very comfortable bed, with pillows and blankets underneath her. When she looked around, she saw that she was in what appeared to be a very fine room. Not a cell at all.

  Her head throbbed, but she forced herself to place her feet on the floor. There was no fire in the room, but the air was warm enough. She guessed that this was just a hot world.

  There were fine silk drapes of mauve and turquoise on some of the walls, while other walls in the large, oval-shaped room were bare but intricately carved. Her vision doubled, but she thought she saw giant snakes and lots of fires and smaller stick figures racing about…

  “The fall of the Dimenshii, the original inhabitants of this realm,” said a rasping voice that instantly sent shivers down Esther’s spine. She turned toward the grating, hissing noise and saw the bulky shape of the prophet-king slithering into the room.

  He was even larger close up than he had been in his golden chariot. His entire torso was like a vast snake, and he barely even used his thin hands as his body coiled and pushed him along until he was halfway in the room, occupying a third of it.

  Esther shuddered at the sight of him. His scales were a pale green, becoming paler as they rose along his body until reaching his nearly bald head with two horned ridges above his brows that almost formed a coronet. His milky eyes stared unnervingly at her, just as he had before.

  “Look, if this is some weird ‘you have to be my wife or I will cook you’ kind of deal than really, fella, you picked the wrong lady,” Esther hissed as she tried to push herself up to her feet, but another wave of exhaustion and nausea folded her back onto the bed. Her weakness completely eradicated any feeling of power that she might have inside of her. She didn’t have the anger necessary to summon the qlippothic energy.

  “Oh no, human. What a disgusting thought!” he croaked, frowning. “You are here because you are to be a useful tool. One that will benefit me greatly. And I take care of my cherished servants.”

  “I am not your servant!” Esther managed to push herself up to a seated position again.

  The prophet-king hissed in anger, rising as the scales and muscles of his torso flexed until he towered over her and his head almost touched the ceiling. “I am the prophet-king! Everyone is a servant before me! I am over seven hundred cycles old, and I have seen the very Asai themselves!”

  Esther felt that same wave of eldritch power wash over her as she had before. This being was ancient and powerful, and she faltered in the face of such power. She lowered her head, struggling to breathe.

  “Enough,” he intoned, slowly lowering himself back to his ‘normal’ height. “You will work for me, and I will treat you well if you do. That is the rule of Celestial Ascension. You will do as I command, and perhaps, if you meet all of my expectations, I may even let you return to the New Zone someday.”

  Esther kept her head bowed. Her eyes hurt, and her thoughts were swimming. Escape. He can’t keep me drugged here forever, can he? Not if he wants me to use this power of mine…

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  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “Good,” the creature said, clapping his hand against his scales. There was another movement through the drapes, and this time, a much smaller, brown-clad Lamakai servant appeared bearing silver trays of what appeared to be fruits, meats, grains, and dishes of steaming something that smelled a little like curry.

  The prophet-king waited for the servants to leave the food on the wooden table and exit before he idly plucked a few grapes from one of the dishes and gestured at the walls. Esther realized that even though he was seemingly blind, he must have some magical ability that allowed him to ‘see’ or ‘sense’ what was happening around him.

  “As I was saying. The Fall of the Dimenshii. They were humans, like yourself. Apparently, your scale-less species is one of the most common in the Celestial Engine!” He sucked noisily and disgustingly on the grapes. “You see, back then, the Asai of Fire was a much younger being—an acolyte or demi-god, as you might call it. This world had just been added to the Celestial Engine, and the Acolyte of Fire led my people here to take it. There were wars, there were resistances, and all the rest of it, but we prevailed. For the next three hundred years, the Acolyte of Fire favored us. When he eventually ascended, he chose this as the realm to house his prism. Do you know of what I speak?”

  Esther shook her head. When the prophet-king didn’t respond, she spoke, “Sesuuk said something about it being a powerful artifact, a treasure belonging to one of the gods?”

  “Almost. The prism is the Asai, a part of them anyway. A physical repository of their power. Like one of the Hearthstones of a realm, it powers and enhances all those around it, which is why the Asai of Fire chose this place, and the Lamakai, to benefit from it.”

  Esther’s mind whirled as she tried to make sense of what he was saying amidst her weakened state.

  Something was all a bit too convenient with this, wasn’t it? The fact that Finn was elevated and chose the Fire Ascension Path, and then Sesuuk, of the race sworn to Fire, stepped out of the blue to become his patron?

  If she were a paranoid person…

  “However, there is something wrong with the prism. We are guarding it, but it is…malfunctioning.”

  “Malfunctioning?” Esther raised her head. Her view of the prophet-king doubled and merged again. She reached a shaking hand toward the pitcher of water, hoping that might help.

  He made a quivering movement, and there was a sound like shifting sand as his scales shivered. It weirded Esther out. “It is not for me to speculate,” he said, “but there is something wrong. It is not working as it should, and now my lands are infected with the undead. They appeared as soon as the prism started to fail.”

  Esther finished the water, and she did feel better. At least a little bit. She still felt too weak to summon her powers, though.

  After a moment, she remembered something Sesuuk had told her. “Sesuuk… Well, he didn’t tell me that. He said that this prism could be used to cure me of this power. To get it out of me,” Esther said. That was explicitly what Sesuuk had said, wasn’t it? That the Prism of Fire could be used to heal her, which was why she came here in the first place!

  “Ha! Well, I see that you have fallen prey to my son’s lies not once, but twice. I could sympathize, but it would be beneath me.” The prophet-king chuckled, but Esther wasn’t sure if he was laughing at her or his son.

  Sesuuk had lied to her. Twice. He hadn’t brought her here to be healed, but so he could give her to his father as some sort of gift or peace offering. There probably wasn’t even any healing possible here. She was angry—very angry—and also very sick, but one thing stuck in her mind.

  If this prophet-king needs my powers, then he can’t keep me drugged…if that’s what is going on now. He has to let me heal.

  That meant she would have an opportunity, a chance to turn that deadly qlippothic energy against anyone—against everyone—if they didn’t take her home!

  “Your powers will help us reclaim the prism from the forces trying to weaken it. My sages are working out the details now. You will be taken from this place, and you will be brought to the prism. Understood?” He raised his unseeing eyes to her.

  Esther scowled at him, but there was no visible reaction from the ancient being. There were some smaller actions it couldn’t sense, then. That might come in handy in the future.

  “Understood, Prophet-King,” she said with a murderous growl.

  The gigantic creature merely laughed and slapped his hands against his scales as he turned to leave. “You might as well get used to this life, human. You will do well here if you comply. If you do not…” The prophet-king shrugged and started to slither away. “There are many ways to die in the desert.”