DEDICATION

For Gabby.

I wish we'd have been able to write stories together, but God had other plans for you.

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With his lips planted tight against the end of the small wooden tube, Kaden sent its contents erupting forth. A bluish fog matching the color on the vial's painted tip mixed with the harsh and gritty desert air. In a matter of seconds, the vapors struck the rugged-looking man menacing the young boy square in the face and halted the advance of his attacker almost immediately.

With his weak looking arms and legs as much of sticks as the tube had been, the thug probably believed the fourteen-year-old boy to be a soft and easy target. A belief quickly dispelled by the surprising move.

Promptly, the brigand dropped his dagger on the ground of the alleyway, collapsed, and clutched himself up tightly into the fetal position. There he remained, blubbering in the narrow space between the mud-brick buildings like a heartbroken teenager who'd just received a stern rebuke from the girl he loved.

Kaden left him to his new found despair, but not before collecting the abandoned blade his now hapless attacker once wielded. After the effects wore off in a couple days, this scoundrel would at least need to acquire a new weapon before even thinking about threatening anyone else. Kaden hid the steel in the cord belt cinching his roughly spun tunic around his waist. He then pulled on his apprentice's shawl draped over his shoulders and hanging down to his knees in order to cover its existence from outside eyes.

Unfortunately, now he would have to return to his father's shop before completing his daily errands and deliveries.

It wasn't far out of the way—not through the back alleys. Which provided some relief from the punishing heat of the twin suns above Imeron; one yellow and its partner a smaller, but just a bright blue.

And thankfully there were no further incidents during his unplanned detour. In no time, Kaden was staring down the freshly painted sign on the facade of their family's storefront: Orl's Apothecary and Distillery, it read. Underneath it another proclaimed, "Exclusive supplier to the Royal Guardians of Ison."

Kaden shook his head. Everyone knew who his father was. Thus making such a bold announcement unnecessary—if not redundant. It was also slightly antagonistic. Both to those without such an honor and to those who just did not like the Royal Guards.

As Kaden opened the door, clanging the bell overhead, he preemptively cleared his throat for the explanation he knew he would soon be required to deliver.

"Back already?" Behind the counter, on a ladder, his father interrupted his work restocking a shelf. His own tunic was neat and clean, and it looked as though he'd just gotten back from having it pressed.

All around the shop were a variety of precisely arranged potions, salves, and ointments in bottles of every conceivable color, size, and shape. All things Kaden's father had been promising him for a long time to teach him how to make. Especially now that his father considered his son to have mastered the art of distilling the basic components.

"I uh..." Words almost failed Kaden. "Need another Sorrow."

"Another?" His father's eyes narrowed onto him. "Why?"

Kaden shrugged to dismiss the situation. "Ran into some trouble."

"Kaden?"

"I'm fine." The boy waved his hand to further dissolve any concern. "Had to spray a thief to stop from being robbed."

Grumbling proceeded his father down the small ladder under him. "Kaden? How many times have I told you? Stick to The Mains."

"The alleys are quicker," Kaden shot back.

"And more dangerous." His father's observation was spot on. "Even here in the Upper Ring, some places are not safe. What's that?"

Kaden's shawl had fallen back, exposing the hilt of the bandit's dagger still nestled in his belt. The boy pulled the covering to hide it once more. "Took it from the thief. Figured it would set him back a bit before he threatened anyone else."

"You know what would happen if you're caught with that?"

"I know The Decrees. As do we all. Wasn't planning on keeping it," Kaden explained, his words glossing over the punishment for people who weren't Royal Guardians and were caught with weapons.

"No?" His father folded his arms. "Going to sell it? Don't I pay you enough? Stay out of the Lower Ring. Am I clear? It's not safe. Especially after dark."

"We can always use more money. Even with the contracts you have with the prince." Kaden arrived behind the counter, stashing the blade in a secret compartment. "I'll use the money to pay you back for the one I wasted."

With a firm hold on Kaden's shoulder, his father's face melted into a softer expression. "I'm just glad you're safe, my son. Please, stay to The Mains?"

Kaden nodded at the request, but he didn't verbally agree. It was a well-known loophole in the Decrees that ruled not just Ison, but all of Imeron society. One where if the agreement was not sealed with a verbal acknowledgement in the presence of a witness, then it might as well have never happened.

His father eyed him, but opted to set the topic aside. "Come, I'll give you another Sorrow. Wouldn't want Sakhar Uson to go berserk. That would be bad."

While his father produced a key from his pocket, Kaden cringed. "He wouldn't need the treatment if you weren't supplying the military with weapons."

"Yet you used Sorrow as a weapon today." Key inserted into the solid lock securing the door behind the counter, his father turned it with a click.

"In self-defense." Kaden pleaded his case.

"A weapon is a weapon, regardless of its use," his father observed. "Do you think our enemies don't use Rage and Courage to bolster their own troops? Or Fear to subdue ours? If we didn't do the same, Ison, and all of Imeron, would fall."

"Sakhar Uson is addicted to a drug you made."

His father sighed. "And now I'm treating him with another medication I provide. I am not unsympathetic, but we've got one of our special orders to fulfill today."

"Prince Relastin is coming?" Kaden asked.

"Yes. And he wants double the last order from two sunsrises ago. It's already been prepared while you were off tangling with thieves."

The door swung open before his father's hand, revealing a vast array of glass stills and clear tubes interwoven among each other. They utilized every conceivable inch of space in the workshop. Some were small, powered by a single candle flame. Others were larger, churning out product inside vented brick ovens. The colors flowing through the fragile piping were a veritable rainbow before Kaden's eyes.

The one thing, however, that eyes could not avoid, was the copious amounts of blood in the flasks being heated to a boil and that was the raw stock for the emotions. Some of it was clearly red; human blood. But others contained the black blood of demon ichor.

Smaller evaporators produced emotions in lesser demand. Green was Disgust. Yellow for Joy. Excitement was clear like precious water. The dark blackness of Envy flowed slowly like a tar. Jealousy was a deep purple compared to the more vibrant indigo of Surprise.

Love, flowing pink, had the smallest still of all, but only because of its rarity, not for lack of demand.

The production of Sorrow, the bright blue stream, took place in a medium-sized unit. The Rage Addiction suffered by so many soldiers necessitated its demand to a higher level than one might have normally expected.

Courage, a very profitable emotion, was brown and in a slightly bigger system.

The two largest units pumped out the bright red of Rage and the burning orange of Fear.

Near the door sat two identical and closed chests on the floor. Kaden's father collected one and silently implied for his son to bring the other. Upon their return to the front of the store, the bell once more rang while a solder held the entrance open. He was a brute of a man and dressed in the traditional armor of an Imeron Warrior and Royal Guardian of Ison.

His chest plate was padded while around his waist and hanging to his knees was a traditional silk wrap. The urk, as it was called, was flat black, denoting he was the son of a traitor. He had been conscripted into the military as the only honorable path left available to him in his life.

Following close behind, the warrior prince in charge of this mighty metropolis strode inside bearing an impressive chest plate of steel. Like the sands surrounding this oasis in the desert, his metal armor had been painted a drab brown. Streaks of raw metal gleamed through scratches marring the coating. Each worn like a badge of honor, the marks denoted their royal visitor had seen battle and survived. His urk was green and red—a sign of his royalty and his rule.

His cloak was also red and green, while at the prince's side hung a sheathed blade with the slightest of curve.

"Ah, your Highness." Kaden's father beamed as they sat the chests down on the counter. "Right on time. Your order is ready."

With a snap of his fingers, the prince summoned two more soldiers in. Both, in padded armor like the first, they wore red urks to signify their fathers had been Royal Guardians of Ison before them.

The troops each opened one of the chests and inspected the neat rows of wooden cylinders with red-dyed tips. One soldier balanced a random tube on his finger. He checked another. Then another. He selected about two dozen before turning to his prince. "They seem to be a little light, sir."

"I assure you," Kaden's father spoke with a steady voice. "Each contains the requisite one quarter stone of extract."

Despite the protest, the soldier handed one of the tubes to his sovereign, while ignoring Orl.

Exhibiting a look of concern, Prince Relastin also tested its weight in a similar manner. "You wouldn't be cheating Ison, would you?"

In that moment, Kaden's mouth shot off—like sandstone in a fire. "My father is an honest broker!"

That drew a calm, although annoyed, glare from the prince. Even as his soldiers clutched for their weapons. "That so, whelp? You are questioning Prince Relastin, Son of King Arban and Heir to the Throne of Imeron?"

"It is!"

"I apologize for my son." Kaden's father rushed to bow before the prince, head on the floor. "Throughout our long-standing relationship, have I ever failed you?"

The cylinder bounced in the prince's palm as he continued to regard it. "Not, it would seem, until now." Another snap of his fingers sent his guards rushing to secure Kaden and his father.

"This is a slander!" Kaden struggled against the soldier restraining him to no avail. "It is against the Decrees for even a prince to level frivolous insults against another!"

In stark contrast, despite sweat beading on his forehead, Kaden's father exhibited a more polished demeanor. "It would be my honor to double check each tube, your Highness. If I made any mistake in my measurement, I would correct the entire batch and provide it free of charge. For the glory of Ison."

The prince gazed at the commodity in his hand. "Did you think I wouldn't notice these being short by one sixty-fourth of a stone?"

"I assure you, they're not. Not by one sixty-fourth. Not by one two-hundred and fifty-sixth."

"Well, then." The prince sloughed off his cloak and revealed the extent of his well-muscled arms. "We'll just have to check." He made his way over to a metal bar capped on both ends by enormous round spheres of dense and polished stone.

Kaden couldn't remember the prince ever asking for proof that his father's product was perfect in both weight and purity. All of Kaden's life, those testing stones rested in that very spot untouched. And they had been out of Kaden's thoughts until now.

Standing over them, the Prince of Ison crushed the tube of essence in his hand. It snapped with virtually no effort. Raising his palm to his face, the prince inhaled deeply and drew the flowing red vapors that appeared into him.

Once he had, the prince bent down, his grip firm upon the bar. He strained, but the stones only flinched. He tried again, adding more force. Veins in his forehead bulged, but the weights rose only an inch before slamming back down.

He should have been able to lift it, Kaden knew that. Especially after a full dose of Rage poured into him. Kaden could only surmise the prince was correct. His father had shorted him. Not by much, but by enough.

"Your Highness, I am sorry." Kaden's father had a new found quake in his voice as the prince returned to pick his cloak up off the floor. "My ... my scales must be off. I will make it right."

"Ison cannot afford to be betrayed by its own citizens," the prince stated with a coolness like the desert night. "And make no mistake, by the Decrees this is a betrayal. One that could have cost Ison many lives. One that already has. For you have been shorting Ison for a while, Orl, Son of Haran. And now Traitor to Ison."

"I implore you..."

"A traitor's punishment is death." Nearly three feet of polished and honed tempered steel rang forth in the prince's hand. The blade no longer at his side had an elongated diamond carved out of its center to lessen its overall weight. He stalked over while the soldiers restraining Kaden's father hoisted him up and placed his head across the shop's counter.

"No!" Kaden's cry rushed out while the guard holding him forcibly restrained him. "Father!"

The prince ignored the boy and raised his sword. "Any last words, Orl, Traitor to Ison?"

"Spare my son." That was the request Kaden's father chose. "He wasn't involved. He can serve you. He knows the ways."

The prince looked at Kaden, trying desperately to tear free and rush to his father's side. Then back to Orl, ready to meet his fate. "As long as he does not also turn traitor? By the Decrees you have my word, I will spare him."

"Then do it," Orl said. "Swiftly. I beg you."

"I will not force you to suffer," the prince agreed. "Consider such as a gift for your years of loyal service. Before now, of course."

And with that, fueled by Rage, the stroke of the prince's sword rose and then fell.