Table of Contents
Summary
Shadow Alley Press Mailing List
The Deeps
The Undercity
The Map
The Bargain
The Scepter
The Sleepless
The Lead
The Museum
The Spy
The Sorcerer
The Visitor
The Discoveries
The Cut
The Talk
The Mission
The Burning
The Heart
The Wound
The Visitor
The Agreement
The Farewell
The Prestige
The Tomb
The Escape
The Haul
The Desert
The Turn
The Unexpected
The Defender
The Loss
The Vision
The Champion
The Bond
The Severing
The Forge
The Island
Books, Mailing List, and Reviews
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Books by Shadow Alley Press
Books by Black Forge
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Copyright
About the Author
About the Publisher
Summary
The quest for the Empyrean Flame has begun, and a deadly new threat has appeared from beyond the realms of mortals.
AS THE NEW SCHOOL YEAR begins, Jace and his friends must puzzle out the meaning behind the map sent by a mysterious benefactor. But as Jace's daunting quest leads him to the most exotic destinations on Earth, he finds himself hunted by the last person he'd expected to oppose his mission: his own mother.
With the heretics hot on his trail and a chaotic invasion looming, Jace and his friends must overcome challenges like none they've ever faced.
Because the end of one myth is often the beginning of a new legend...
Burning Core is book four in the bestselling School of Swords and Serpents series, a tale of wuxia adventure, cultivation mastery, and lurking threats.
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The Deeps
HAHEN JABBED ME IN the ribs with his index finger. “You must go deeper than ever before to find your way to the next level of advancement.”
Hearing those words for the hundredth time that summer nearly pushed me over the edge. Three times a day, every day, the rat spirit and I had chased my advancement from a disciple’s core to the artist level. It was a difficult transition. Only one in three Empyreals ever made the leap. With each passing day it felt more likely I was in the unlucky two-thirds stuck at disciple. I gave Hahen an exasperated sigh and opened my eyes.
“I don’t know how to go deeper,” I grumbled. “Give me something to work with here.”
The rat spirit scratched the underside of his chin and tugged on his whiskers. He frowned at me, shook his head, then sat across from me and crossed his legs. He took a deep breath, let it out, and put his hand on his chest.
“I am not a sacred artist, but when I cycle my breath, I feel it in my lungs.” He lowered his hand to his pudgy midsection. “And then in my core. Those are the first two levels of meditation. To reach the artist level, you must go deeper, to the third level. Only there can you find the insight to advance along your path.”
This was nothing new. Hahen had explained it to me before, and I’d failed time and again. My patience had grown thin, and I almost snapped at my mentor. It took me a moment to gather myself and push my anger down.
It wasn’t Hahen’s fault I hadn’t found the way after months of trying. With only a handful of days left before the new semester started, my failure to reach the next level had made me desperate and grumpy.
That wasn’t the proper mindset to advance.
After a long, deep breath, I considered the rat spirit’s words carefully. I picked them apart for new meaning that might light the path ahead of me. You feel it in your lungs, you feel it in your core—
You feel it.
Maybe that was the problem. I’d been thinking my way through meditation. I needed something more visceral to guide me. I jumped to my feet and stepped around Hahen to my desk. I pulled a case of jinsei vials out of its bottom drawer and popped the cap on two of the glass cylinders. Without hesitation, I guzzled them both down.
My earlier cycling had filled me with jinsei. The new purified sacred energy I’d poured on top stretched my core an uncomfortable amount. An ache grew at the center of my being and pulsed in time with my breaths.
Perfect.
“What are you doing?” Hahen asked irritably.
“Giving myself something to feel.” I dropped into a lotus position, facing the rat spirit.
I closed my eyes and drifted into a meditative state. After two breaths, all sensations from the outside world faded away. The only sounds were the beating of my heart and the gentle rush of breath entering and leaving my body. I breathed deeper, slower. More jinsei flowed into my already overloaded core. The ache inside me was a spike of pain that sharpened with every inhalation. It was easy enough to ignore discomfort while meditating, but that wasn’t the point. I focused on the pain and followed the thread of hurt deeper into myself.
A golden shell blossomed in my vision. It took up my entire mind’s eye and emanated warmth and power. There was no doubt in my mind that this was my core. The great sphere rebuffed my first attempt to enter, and my second. The gold wall was as impenetrable as a steel plate.
Frustrated, I willed my mind’s eye to orbit clockwise around the shell. The glowing wall shone like a benevolent sun until I reached the halfway point. I was so surprised by what I saw there, my concentration nearly faltered and dropped me out of my meditation.
My core was divided into two hemispheres by a gnarled scar the color of fresh ashes. On one side of that line, the shell was flawless as freshly smelted gold. The other half, though, was coarse and dark as wrought iron. Dents and pits marred its surface. Rough-hewn lines covered the blackened metal in a crude pattern. Cracks revealed the silver light of jinsei hidden beyond the darkness, like rays of winter moonlight through storm clouds.
It nearly broke my heart to know this ugliness was inside me. The golden side was the real me, the hollow core, pure and natural. The rest was
