The storm pounded Fantome with a fury that shook the entire city. Even the river trembled. The sky wept and thunder roared, as though it had something vital to say. Up north, where the oldest university in Valterre overlooked the sprawling capital, a young scholar listened intently.

Prince Andreas Mondragon Rayere sat on the windowsill of his dormitory with his forehead pressed against the glass, watching the sky thrash. For years he had waited for this night, and now, at last, it was upon him.

This storm.

This spark.

This grand changing of fate.

He grinned as he hopped off the sill, fetching his rain cloak from a hook on the wall. Shrugging it on, he slipped out into the stone hallway. Oil lamps flickered encouragingly as he rushed down the corridor, swinging around the corner and taking the stairwell three steps at a time. Outside, the storm raged on, and yet the hallowed halls of the Appoline University were eerily silent. The other scholars had tucked themselves away for the night, to read alone in their bedchambers or snatch another hour or two of research in the companionable warmth of the library.