Sade watched from the roof of a dried-fish warehouse. The smell of salt and dead things was cloying, but he did not register it. His senses were tuned to a different frequency.

  He was tracking a heartbeat.

  Not just any heartbeat. A resonance. A heavy, rhythmic thrum in the spiritual ether that sounded like a drum covered in velvet. The Golden Lion.

  He adjusted his cowl. He wore the rags of a beggar over his Imperial lacquered armor, the bronze scales dull and scratched. He had walked for three weeks from Abuja, following the whispers of the Unbinding, searching for the one thing that could stop it.

  He looked down into the alleyway below.

  There.

  Ojie was moving through the shadows, carrying a sack of supplies. He moved well and quiet, efficient, hugging the walls. But he moved like a thief, not a king. He moved like prey trying not to be seen.

  Sade felt a spike of disappointment. Is this the savior? A rat in a maze?

  His own bond, the Griffin, shrieked in his mind. It was a sharp, high sound, demanding the sky. Test him, it urged. Break the shell. See if there is meat inside.

  Sade dropped from the roof.

  He fell twenty feet, landing silently in the mud behind Ojie. He didn't use magic to cushion the fall; he used muscle and discipline.

  "You walk loudly for a dead man," Sade said.

  Ojie spun. He was fast, faster than a normal man. The iron sword was halfway out of its sheath before Sade finished the sentence.

  "Who are you?" Ojie demanded. His stance was low, defensive. His eyes were dark, but deep within the iris, gold flecks swirled like stirred sediment.

  "A question," Sade said. He drew his weapon—a Sopporo, a dual-edged spear-sword, the signature weapon of the Imperial Guard. He held it loosely. "Show me the Lion."

  "I don't have time for riddles." Ojie stepped back, looking for an exit.

  "No exit," Sade said. "Only through."

  Sade pushed his bond. Stage Four.

  The air around him warped. Spectral feathers, translucent and shimmering like heat haze, erupted from his shoulders. His eyes turned the color of a storm cloud. The wind in the alley picked up, swirling around his spear tip.

  He lunged.

  It was not a killing strike, but it was fast enough to take a head off if ignored.

  Ojie barely blocked it. Iron met bronze with a spark. The impact drove Ojie’s boots back into the mud. He grunted, his arms shaking under the unnatural weight of Sade’s blow.

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  "Weak," Sade critiqued. He swept the spear low, sweeping Ojie’s legs.

  Ojie jumped, clumsy but effective, and slashed at Sade’s face.

  Sade tilted his head. The blade missed by an inch. "Sloppy. You fight with your muscles, not your spirit."

  "Shut up!" Ojie roared. He swung again, a heavy, brutal overhand chop.

  The Lion in Ojie woke up. A pulse of raw power exploded outward, Stage Three. It was a shockwave of force, unrefined and chaotic. It cracked the mud walls of the alley.

  Sade didn't block. He flowed.

  His Griffin bond allowed him to manipulate air currents. He stepped onto the air itself, rising three feet off the ground, drifting over Ojie’s strike like a leaf in the wind.

  "You are noisy," Sade said, hovering for a second before descending with a kick to Ojie’s chest.

  Ojie flew backward, crashing into a pile of rotting crates. He gasped, the wind knocked out of him.

  Sade landed lightly. He lowered his spear. "Listen to me, boy. You are using the bond like a hammer. You are forcing the spirit to obey. That is Stage Three. It is noise."

  Ojie scrambled up, spitting blood. "And what are you?"

  "Music," Sade said. "Stage Five."

  Sade closed his eyes. The spectral wings on his back solidified, becoming almost visible. A beak of wind formed over his face. The Griffin shrieked, and the sound shattered a clay pot ten feet away.

  "Overlay," Sade explained calmly. "The spirit does not just lend you strength. It wears you. We become one . Watch."

  Sade moved. He didn't run; he vanished in a blur of wind. He appeared behind Ojie. He struck the back of Ojie’s knee with the spear shaft. He vanished again. Appeared in front. Slapped Ojie’s cheek with the flat of the blade.

  Ojie was swinging at ghosts. He was panting, furious, humiliated.

  "Stop fighting it!" Sade barked. "Sync with the pulse! Don't drag the spirit, you ride it!"

  Ojie roared in frustration. He stopped trying to hit Sade. He stopped looking with his eyes.

  He closed them.

  He felt the pulse in his chest. Thump-thump.

  Sade was coming from the left. The wind gave him away.

  Ojie didn't block. He stepped into the attack. He dropped his sword. He grabbed the shaft of Sade’s spear with his bare hand as it thrust toward him.

  The iron bit into his palm, blood flowing. But he held it.

  Sade’s eyes widened. "Pragmatic."

  Ojie didn't speak. With his free hand, he grabbed a handful of wet, stinging pepper-dust from a nearby spilled basket and threw it directly into Sade’s eyes.

  Sade shouted, blinded, his concentration breaking. The wind died. The wings vanished.

  Ojie tackled him. They went down in the mud. Ojie didn't use a weapon. He used a rock. He pinned Sade’s arm with his knee and raised the jagged stone over Sade’s skull.

  "Yield," Ojie hissed. His eyes were fully gold now. "Or I open your head."

  Sade blinked, tears streaming from his pepper-burned eyes. He felt the intent. The boy would do it. There was no hesitation. No "honor" holding him back.

  Sade laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound.

  "Good," Sade wheezed. "Very good."

  Ojie hesitated. "What?"

  "I don't need a duelist," Sade said, wiping his eyes. "The Empire has thousands of duelists. They are all dead or useless." He looked up at Ojie, ignoring the rock. "I need a killer. I need a man who will throw dirt in the eye of a god to survive."

  Ojie lowered the rock slowly. He stood up, retrieving his sword, but kept his distance. "Who sent you?"

  Sade sat up. He reached into his rags and pulled out a medallion the Broken Sun of the Imperial Guard. He tossed it to Ojie.

  "No one sent me. I followed the rot. The Emperor is gone, boy. Something else wears his skin in Abuja." Sade stood, regaining his dignity despite the mud. "The Unbinding is eating the world. And you are the only one whose bond feels... old enough to fight it."

  Sade knelt. He planted his spear in the mud and bowed his head.

  "I am Sade, former Captain of the Third Coil. My sword is yours. My life is yours." He looked up, his eyes hard. "But only if you promise me one thing."

  "What?" Ojie asked, gripping the medallion.

  "That when the time comes," Sade said, "you will not just survive. You will go against the world itself, you will ride to Abuja."

  Ojie looked at the kneeling warrior. He felt the Lion sound in his chest, a deep, satisfied rumble.

  "Get up," Ojie said. "We have work to do."