The first death was impossible. That was the only word Duke Octavius Vane's personal guard could think of when they described what they found in their master's study on the evening of the 14th cycle of the 9th millennium.

The door had been locked from the inside. The windows were sealed with gravitational shielding. The room's environmental systems had been running on autonomous mode for three days—Octavius was known for his solitary working habits. And yet when the guard finally forced the door (the air inside was becoming thin, and Octavius's life signs were declining), they found him dead.

Not just dead. Transfixed.

A metal pillar, approximately two meters in length and three decimeters in diameter, had been driven through the duke's chest and into the floor beneath him. The pillar was covered in rust and ancient engravings. It looked like something that had been sitting in the sun for ten thousand years.

The guards brought Lady Seraphina Vane to the scene. At twenty-six, she was the youngest surviving member of House Vane and, by default, the head of the family. She was also the only one who did not immediately assume murder.

"It's an anchor," she said, her voice flat. She stood in the doorway of the study, her black velvet dress blending with the shadows. Her grey eyes moved slowly across the room, taking in every detail.

"An anchor, my lady?" the lead guard asked. "You mean—like a ship's anchor?"

"No. Like the things that hold a world in place."