High up, thousands of miles above Haadran’s atmosphere, for the first time in centuries, the Queen of Blood was at a loss for words. She’d just been robbed, her magic assimilated into the ritual. It was such a preposterous thing—people bent over backwards, gifted her entire stellar systems just on the off-chance she might learn their names—and here she’d been robbed by a man who hadn’t yet reached his third decade. Lantris was so shocked she didn’t know how to react. Was she supposed to be angry, or impressed? Duncan, at least, knew how he was feeling. The ice-elf was enraged, the veins on his temples throbbing. Lantris was forced to spend a considerable amount of energy to keep her blood in a liquid state. Any more of this and Duncan would seriously mess up the weather patterns in Haadran.“That…that upstart, snivelling little brat. Did he, did he really—”“Use your magic to enhance his ritual, yes.” Lantris finished for him. “You need to get a handle on your emotions. I don’t think your current vessel was prepared properly.”Duncan seemed about to retort, but he told his tongue. It wasn't wise to ignore the advice of a woman like Lantris. He ran some diagnostic magic through his current body, and his skin rapidly paled.“You're right. This vessel has a 37% rejection rate. Let me check the records.” Duncan’s frown steadily deepened over the next few seconds, though this time, Lantris could tell the anger actually came from the man himself.“Prisoner 103,” Duncan finally said. “Charged for murdering his wife and daughter in a bout of rage. He resisted arrest and killed a further eight empire agents and eleven innocent bystanders.”Duncan rubbed his temples. “This was a terrible lack of professionalism on all ends. Terrible policing and the Doctor who discharged him despite the warnings of concept deviation on his medical records.”Now it was Lantris’ turn to look confused. She’d sensed something off with Duncan’s (...)