As soon as I opened my eyes, I knew this was a lucid dream.

Everything around me seemed off. Now, the question was whether I’d made it to where I was supposed to go. My dream world was filled with things from reality. Trees, rocks, buildings, and bridges that stretched over rivers. But they were skewed and everything was slightly different, as if painted with watercolors. The green was blue. The blue was red. The red was yellow. The black was white. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to this strange surrealism.

I walked through it for a while, noticing how the shapes warped around me. I was a droplet of oil drifting quietly through the water. I couldn’t touch anything—every blade of grass, every stone, and every branch was elastic, bending away from my fingers.

Eventually, I found a forest path leading up to a bright yellow cliff. The sky above was splattered red. Like an ocean of blood, with black clouds and no sun. “This is beyond weird,” I mumbled as I made my way up to the top of the cliff.

Strange chirps echoed around me. There were little winged creatures here, but I couldn’t see them. The wind rose as I reached the peak. It was warm and cold at the same time. Someone stood at the very top, the highest point in the land. I stilled, trying to figure out whether I knew him. He wore a long, dark blue coat, his back to me. The fiery curls on the top of his head gave me a sense of familiarity.

Had I actually found him?

“Ramin?” I asked, my voice sounding distant, as if slipping through from another dream.

He turned around. His eyes were incandescent—two droplets of lava. He smiled.

“Ramin,” I concluded, feeling my heart expand with joy, then quickly contract with fear as I thought, for a brief moment, that he might be one of them. A hostile. I didn’t move, waiting for his reaction.

He looked as though he’d been painted as well, with large and rapid brushstrokes. His features weren’t fully defined, but I could tell that he was wearing someone’s flesh. The eyes were the only thing that stood out, that didn’t match the rest of him.

Ramin brought his index finger up to his lips, motioning for me to stay quiet. I was compelled to obey him. He offered me his hand, and, for a few minutes, I just stared at it, wondering whether I should take it. Could he be trusted? Was this a trap of sorts?

What would his reason be? It didn’t make sense. Ramin had helped me more than once, and, if he’d wanted me dead, he would’ve flooded Infernis with burning lava as soon as I’d set foot inside. That much I knew was now possible, given the increasing strength of the Hermessi since the Blackout and since their influence had begun spreading through our fae.

This is silly. I reached out to him. He wants to show me something.

I figured I’d be better off following him to wherever he wished to take me, so I took a leap of faith and put my hand in his. His smile broadened. Then, we both became mere wisps shooting across a multicolored cosmos. I’d lost my shape and senses as we swooshed through the vast universe—I’d somehow left my dream state and my body in Infernis.

I’d become a projection, soul-walking and moving through dimensions faster that the speed of light. Everything flickered past me. I held on tight, listening to his voice in my head.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said. “I’d thought about leaving Neraka to come looking for you, but you got here first, Harper.”

Relief washed over me. “You’re not one of them,” I replied, watching the stars dart past us. I had no idea where we were going, but I didn’t let go. Something told me that if I severed the link, I’d be forever lost in this secret dimension.

“They don’t know that,” Ramin said, giving me a sideways glance as we continued our journey, weightless.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“You’re the only one I could reach out to for this, Harper. I’m trusting you with my life by doing this. I need you to remember that.”

“I will. I promise. But what’s happening here?”

“It’s time for you to repay that favor,” Ramin said. “I helped you with the daemon king. Now, it’s your turn to help me.”

“Oh, okay. Um, how? How could I possibly help? I’m the one who reached out to you for assistance.”

“I need you to stop this madness. What they’re doing… It’s not right. I’ve done what they’ve asked of me, and I hate myself for it, but… it’s the only way I was able to survive, to live to this moment so I could speak to you,” Ramin said. I would’ve asked for more details, but I figured it had something to do with the death cults.

“You got the fae on Neraka ill, didn’t you?”

“I am sorry, Harper,” Ramin replied. “I hope, someday, you may forgive me for it. But, for now, I need you to stay quiet and come in.”

We seemed to be slowing down, as a humongous, black abyss opened up before us. The stars and the other planets were gone. The gaseous pink-and-yellow clouds had vanished. Nothingness awaited, and, for some reason, it filled me with dread.

“Come in?” I asked. Maybe I hadn’t heard him right.

Ramin hovered in front of me. He unbuttoned his coat, opening it wide. “Come in. Trust me, Harper. I would never hurt you. I just cannot let anyone see or hear you where we’re going.”

This was already fifty-thousand dollops of weird, so I thought… What the hell? I moved forward and wrapped my arms around his slender figure. His coat covered me. Night itself swaddled me like a newborn baby, as strips of fire emerged and seemed to tie themselves around me. I would’ve screamed, but my voice was gone.

“Don’t worry, Harper. My fire would never hurt you,” Ramin said. He sounded a lot louder, as if I’d gotten stuck at the bottom of a barrel and he was talking to me from above, his voice echoing around me like rumbling thunder.

Before I could even react, I felt us both drop. I was tethered inside a fiery tornado that fell through the black abyss. We were going somewhere—far away from any reality or dimension I’d become familiar with. I moved when Ramin moved. My limbs had become his. His core had become mine. His vision, mine. We were one and the same, inseparable. And he’d been truthful. The fire didn’t burn.

We landed smoothly on a wide disc made of undulating layers of obsidian and tourmaline. Above us, the night sky stretched black, dotted with myriads of stars. I held my breath, realizing that we were no longer alone.

“Remember, Harper, keep quiet and listen,” I heard Ramin say to me.

I didn’t need to be told twice, as I realized we were meeting other Hermessi. There were dozens of elementals present, all of them in peculiar humanoid forms made of blazing flames, diamonds or trees, flowers or precious minerals, water or glimmering ice, clouds or air ripples… They’d all come here—wherever “here” was—to talk. This was equal parts insanely cool and terrifying at the same time.

Were these the bad guys? Or the rebels we’d all been hoping to meet?

“What took you so long?” a water figure asked us. I almost felt bad, as if I was late for class, or something. The Water Hermessi’s voice was smooth and feminine, but sharp enough to leave a permanent impression in my long-term memory.

“My apologies, Aya,” Ramin replied, and my heart skipped a beat.

This is Aya! The fabled Aya! Holy crap!

“We don’t have enough time as it is,” Aya said.

“Enough with the berating.” An Earth Hermessi came forward. “You know Ramin is on his own on Neraka. It couldn’t have been easy for him to get out, even for a few minutes.”

Junnoh is the Earth Hermessi of Persea, I heard Ramin whisper in my head. “Thank you, Junnoh, for understanding. It hasn’t been easy at all. But I’m here now. What’s going on? Where are we with our mission?”

“Acquis is under Leb and Sebbi’s watchful eye,” Junnoh said. “He can’t leave Cerix like us. Not until they get Brann’s replacement instated.”

“We’re talking about the fire girl, Inalia, right?” Ramin asked.

“Enough about her!” another Water Hermessi snapped. “We have bigger things to deal with!”

That’s Mal, the Water Hermessi of Calliope. The fire next to him is Firr, the Fire Hermessi. We were blessed with two allies from Calliope, Ramin said to me. I was in sheer awe of what I was witnessing, speechless and starry-eyed as I watched them all come closer. The energy coming off them was sensational. I wondered if I could maybe syphon something off one of them. What would that feel like? What would it do to me? What were the odds I could even do it while soul-walking, when my body was trillions of miles away in another dimension? I decided not to risk exposure by trying something no other sentry had ever tried. But I did make a note to consider it as an option, and to share it with all the other sentries I knew—Varga included. Worth a shot.

“Their influence is growing,” Mal added. “Hundreds of fae are falling under it every day, across the two realms.”

Two realms? I thought my question to Ramin.

What you creatures refer to as the Supernatural Dimension and the In-Between. There are other planes of existence, as well, but we haven’t reached them yet. We know, for a fact, that the fae reside in three dimensions—the one you come from, with your Shade, the Supernatural Dimension, and the In-Between. Ramin said.

“But you haven’t had signs of influence from the third?”

A Fire Hermessi came closer, shaking his head. “All of Earth is on my side,” he said. “And we’ve yet to find other distant worlds where the Hermessi might be active. My realm seems to be less generous with the life-giving elements. Maybe we deserve it.”

“Tebir, do not despair. We are thankful for your presence and support,” Aya replied to him. “Few planets have come forth as rebels, with all four Hermessi on one side. Earth is special for it, trust me.”

He’s the Fire Hermessi of Earth, right? I asked Ramin. I could almost feel him nod.

“It’s only a matter of time before they touch the five million fae they need for the ritual,” Ramin said to the others. “Those of us who try to stop them face consequences that are too dire to ignore. We’ve all seen it with Brann and the others who’ve been destroyed.”

“At least Cerix is fortunate to have Hermessi children surviving their parents,” Junnoh replied. “The same could not be said for Alpha Sentis or Melyana…”

Other planets? I thought.

Yes. Their Fire and Water Hermessi rebelled. Alpha Sentis froze to death, its species all wiped out. Melyana dried up. Millions of innocent creatures already dead, Ramin replied.

“There is an upside to this growing influence of theirs, though,” Aya interjected. “It’s not just their powers that are growing. Ours are, too. We might be able to do something, after all.”

“Firr, you were here when the intervention occurred. I know we’ve asked before, but maybe you’ve remembered something in the meantime,” Ramin said. “Who stopped the Hermessi before? Most of us here are young. Our predecessors perished back then.”

“Back then” meant eons ago, in pre-ancient times when the Hermessi had more meaningful contact with the creatures of the planets they nurtured. “Back then” was an era when the Hermessi children were born in bigger numbers—or so I remembered from Amelia’s reports of what they’d read in the Silvergate library, prior to Brann’s death. It was time to confirm something with Ramin.

So most of you rebels here were Hermessi children at first, too? I asked.

Not all of us. I, for one, along with Mal, Junnoh, and Aya, for example, came to be on my own, Ramin explained. It’s difficult to explain, but it’s as if the universe didn’t want our planets to die when our predecessors were destroyed. The same isn’t happening now, I’m afraid. Something has changed.

“I’m sorry, no. I’ve lost all sense of time since that fateful day. I could never remember what happened before. And I don’t mean just the intervention, as you call it,” Firr said. “I don’t remember my existence prior to it. I’ve tried, but… nothing comes to me.”

This was strange, to say the least. But it did shed some light and offered a few answers to some of my most burning questions. Eavesdropping on a bunch of rebel Hermessi sure had its perks, and I already couldn’t wait to get back and share my findings with the others. At the same time, despair was still threatening to overcome me. As it stood, the rebel Hermessi were powerless to stop the ritual. This wasn’t a good basket for all our eggs.

“We still don’t know who did it,” an Air Hermessi added. “All I remember is that the world was dangerously close to an end, and then I was asked by the other elements to take over for my mother. After that, everything went back to normal.”

That’s Helus, Air Hermessi of Purgaris, Ramin said to me.

“We do know it ended abruptly and long before the five million mark,” Aya replied. “And that’s what worries me. We’re dangerously close to the ritual being completed this time, and there’s no intervention. I don’t understand why.”

“Maybe the universe wants all this life we’ve built to perish. Maybe the ritual needs to happen, this time around,” Junnoh suggested.

“That’s nonsense,” Ramin snapped. “Why? It’s not fair! We’ve worked hard to build these worlds. We’ve watched life hatch from its very first cell, deep in the primordial waters, until now… Look at what our creations are doing. Building bridges, reaching out to one another across the galaxies. There is peace and prosperity, and those who seek war do not live for too long. We’re right where we’re supposed to be.”

“According to our stubborn brethren, the universe has reached the age where a purge is necessary,” Firr grumbled, crossing his fiery arms and shaking his head. “They’re obsessed with this ritual. They keep telling us it’s time, it’s time. It’s like they’ve gone insane. We cannot reason with them anymore.”

“We don’t know what intervened the last time this happened, but I know we can’t rely on another such miracle to come save us now,” Aya concluded, her tone firm, determination blaring out of her like a vibrant aura. “Our evil brothers and sisters have learned from their past. First, they won’t tell us who stopped them back then. Some of them might know, but they’ve kept it to themselves, most likely fearing rebellion. So I doubt we have a chance of learning the truth about that anytime soon.”

“Their confidence irks me as well,” Ramin added. “The Hermessi have been dormant since, and we’ve not been able to produce new Hermessi children. It puts our planets at risk if we don’t have replacements available.” I didn’t like the way he spoke of creatures like Inalia and Eira as if they were spare parts to this big machine of theirs. “And, like we’ve all said before, the universe doesn’t seem willing to help us stop the ritual, this time around. Which leaves us with just one other option.”

“What’s that, Ramin?” Aya asked.

I, too, wanted to hear his thoughts about this. As it stood, it didn’t look good for us. On a cosmic level, we were royally screwed.

“The GASP crew that’s currently on Cerix,” Ramin said, surprising me. We knew that Tae and his crew’s work was important, but I didn’t think it would be big enough for the rogue Hermessi to acknowledge it like this. “Leb and Sebbi are determined to squash them. The others are urging them to destroy the entire team. That tells me they might discover something that our brothers and sisters don’t wish to see the light of day, ever again.”

A brief silence settled across the gathering, as we all processed Ramin’s assumption. The seedling of truth within it could not be ignored or denied. In my heart, I knew he was on to something with this.

Firr nodded in agreement. “They’re afraid that GASP crew will unearth something they don’t want the rest of the worlds to know—us included.”

Us, the rebels, he means? I asked Ramin.

Yes, though our identities have not all been revealed, Ramin told me. There is suspicion among the Hermessi, in general, but without proof, they cannot accuse any of us of treason. That’s why they all refuse to talk about the intervention, in the first place. They don’t want to risk one of us rebels learning about it, because they know we’d take action and go to the ends of the world to stop this ritual.

“I was wondering,” Mal said. “Consider it a side note to what Ramin just said, but keep it in mind, nonetheless. When the first intervention happened, many Hermessi were destroyed, thus crippling the ritual itself. Then, their children came forth as their successors. In some rare cases, such as mine and others here, new Hermessi were created. There’s ten of us, in total, that I know of. The other Hermessi heirs were children first. Maybe, this time around, the force that stopped the ritual then cannot do it again, because there is a shortage of Hermessi children to replace the bad apples.”

“So, there’s no outside intervention happening because it would destroy too many Hermessi in the process, and it wouldn’t be strong enough to make that many new Hermessi to replace them, since there are few Hermessi children living,” Aya replied. “Am I getting that right?”

She is, I thought. And it made sense. If this greater force wanted to save the world, it couldn’t do so by dooming thousands of planets to self-destruction by wiping out their Hermessi without replacements. Standing back, this time around, sounded like the sensible thing to do. Destroying civilizations through the ritual was less destructive than planets dying altogether without one or more of their elements. The realization made my stomach sink.

“Yes,” Mal sighed. “Which means that Ramin’s avenue is the only one we have. Whatever those GASP agents are up to, we should find a way to help them without getting ourselves revealed as rebels.”

“How would we even begin to do that?” Aya asked. “We cannot leave our planets to assist them. I sure don’t want to end up like Brann. There’s no one to replace me on Strava!”

“I think that’s what our brothers and sisters are banking on,” Firr said. “That we’re limited by this fear of being destroyed. They’re not that far off, either. I’m not sure how much longer some of us will last.”

“There’s something else,” Tebir replied, his fire burning brighter. “There’s word coming from the In-Between that they’re about to try something truly abominable to stop them. Because of the two jinn on that GASP crew, our brethren can’t catch them. They’re never in one place for too long.”

“What are you talking about? Where did you hear this?” Aya asked, suddenly alarmed.

“Pyrr, the Fire Hermessi of the Fire Star. He let it slip to one of the templars there. You know word travels fast through the flames. I’ve just heard it myself,” Tebir said.

Ramin flared with shock. I could hear the whispers myself, coming from a fire fae in GASP custody. A string of words that, at first, didn’t make sense. Surely, one of the Mara agents on our side must’ve broken the guy down, forced him to spill some, if not all, of the beans. This was happening in real-time, I realized. The other Fire Hermessi present lit up, as well.

“I can hear it, too, brother,” Ramin murmured, as horror engulfed me. “Leb and Sebbi have begun toying with the natural order, bringing forth creatures that shouldn’t even exist, all for the sole purpose of hunting that GASP crew.”

What the hell could that possibly mean? What creatures were they talking about?

“If the Hermessi themselves can’t hunt these agents down, then their monstrous experiments surely can,” Ramin concluded.

“What limits us as elements does not apply to living creatures,” Aya breathed. “What… What can we do, my fellow rebels? We’re stuck to meeting in these hidden dimensions, plotting against our own kind, while they tip the natural scales in their favor, just so they can complete that damn ritual!”

“Whatever comes out of the bowels of Cerix, it was made solely for the purpose of hunting down that one crew,” Ramin said. “The best we can do is find a way to warn them.” Granted, that was redundant, since I was right here with him, hearing everything loud and clear. “We cannot trust any fae to deliver the message,” Ramin added. “They’re susceptible to our brethren’s influence.”

“Can we reach out to anyone else?” Mal asked.

Aya nodded. “I did manage to slip into a vampire-sentry’s dream, once. Her name is Elonora. I could try again.”

“Leave this with me,” Ramin replied. “I know the right person I can speak to about this. Worry not, I’ll make sure GASP is alerted.”

Thank you for this, Ramin, I thought, filled up with warmth and gratitude toward him. He could certainly feel it. I do have one more question. The ritual involves the oldest twenty-planet solar system in the In-Between. Do you know which one it is?

“The ritual is meant to be completed when the planets of the first twenty-planet solar system are aligned,” Ramin said out loud. “We still don’t know which system the ritual refers to, do we?”

“Tebba, the Water Hermessi of the Fire Star, said that only one of the Hermessi leading this ritual mission knows which system that is,” Mal replied. “I told you, they’re keeping their cards close to their chest, this time around.”

“Because they know they can be defeated!” Aya shouted, the water that made her rippling with pure anger. “It’s why they’re drilling for life in the pink waters of Cerix. They’re scared of failing again.”

I was tormented by newfound energy and crippling fear. On one hand, I’d just acquired first-hand and incredibly valuable intel, straight from the Hermessi horse’s mouth. On the other, I’d yet to gain any scope on how the Hermessi could be stopped, in the end. We knew they could be, but we still didn’t know how.

Two things lingered heavily in my consciousness, while I found an inkling of comfort in Ramin’s inner flames. First, that there had been outside influence of titanic proportions present during the Hermessi’s initial ritual attempt. It had stopped them, and it had destroyed many of them in the process.

Second, this notion of creatures made from the pink waters of Cerix. What were they, exactly? They sounded like cheat codes on the evolutionary scale, designed solely to find and kill Tae, Lumi, and the rest of their crew. I needed to make my way back to consciousness now, desperate to warn the others of everything I’d learned.

“Quiet,” Aya hissed. “Can you hear that?”

Silence fell over the small Hermessi rebel group. A few seconds later, we could certainly hear it. A strange whirring. Wings fluttering. No, winds. Strong winds sputtering through cosmos, howling and screeching angrily.

“Everyone, scatter!” Mal warned us.

In an instant, the gathering broke. Wisps of water, air, earth, and fire dashed in different directions, as far away from the obsidian and tourmaline disc as possible. I was jolted by Ramin’s sudden movement. He flew us far away, but I could still see the hundreds of elements converging on the circular platform.

The other Hermessi had found our meeting spot. And they trashed it.

As Ramin penetrated the depths of space and time, I watched as the disc was splintered by violent blazes and storms, earthquakes and tornadoes, until billions of shards were scattered across the blackness. Some of the Hermessi spread outward, racing to catch the rebels before they disappeared. Before they could identify them.

“Hang in there, Harper,” Ramin said to me. “It’s about to get rough.”

Oh, it most certainly did, as we wound up plummeting and spiraling toward a galaxy below, with a furious cluster of Water Hermessi on our tail. I became one with the fire, allowing Ramin full freedom of movement so he’d get us away from here.

My mind was sharp, but the horror gripped me tight. If Ramin got caught with me in him, we were both done for. I worried about the other Hermessi rebels, too. Clearly, the baddies had come to play, and I doubted they’d be interested in taking prisoners.

No, this had the looks of a seek-and-destroy operation, and Ramin and I were targets.