The Blood Solution (Approaching Infinity Book 3) by Chris Eisenlauer

tower of glass, concrete, and steel that was Vos Raansik Cathedral. Upon the unmarked surface of the pond, at its very center, was a polished statue of flawless steel. The statue was of a man on one leg with the other leg upraised and bent so the foot pointed down, toes just above the opposite knee. Its head, featureless and sleek with a pointed chin that suggested a bird’s beak, was bowed, and its hands were pressed together before its chest as in prayer.
    For six hours every day, the statue graced the pond. The six-hour term was nearly up now as the sun threatened to crest the horizon, and just as it had previously at intervals, light began to gather around the statue, until a flowing ribbon of white-gold light seemed to race from shoulder to shoulder in a circular course about the statue’s head, forming what looked like a Halo. The Halo light flared softly once, then pulsed rhythmically thereafter, increasing in intensity each time. With the second pulse, the pond stirred. With the third, the pond splashed and began to steam. With the fourth, a clear circle could be seen cutting into the water’s surface, and the pond boiled. With the fifth, the circle cut again, but instantly gave rise to an explosion of steam and boiling water that left the pond at half of its former volume. The statue remained, unchanged, still standing on one leg, supported by nothing but thin air.
    “Sar Fosso,” came a voice, sweet and clear.
    As along an unseen seam where it was joined to the body, the statue’s head turned, birdlike and enigmatic with no eyes to regard the girl who stood at the at the muddy bank. She had parted the leaves and the branches there, had them bent and twisted still to make room for her and yet her approach had gone completely unnoticed.
    The statue dropped its upraised leg, dropped its hands to its sides. Its body rotated to follow the orientation of its head.
    The girl blushed now that the statue’s full attention was on her. The statue drifted softly towards her, like a steel whisper, a cold metal breeze that stopped just before her, several centimeters off the ground.
    “How long?” the statue said, its voice a bass echo off a tin drum.
    The girl swallowed hard, her excitement and the pleasure of her achievement competing with her sense of propriety. “Only a few seconds, Sar Fosso,” she said.
    “It is enough. At least for now. You have a right to be proud, Lissa. I didn’t sense you until you called. You’ve only recently mastered the Fourth Secret, but your progress is. . . is breathtaking. The Sixth Secret is nearly yours to exploit. It won’t be long now.”
    “Thank you, Sar Fosso,” she said. Her hair was a cascade of tight blond curls, framing a face of pure white cream. She was still blushing, though, and smiling. Her breathing was yet quick with her excitement, and she stared into the blank face of steel that looked back at her, trying to read the features she knew to be beyond the layer of armor.
    “Lissa, you shouldn’t look at me that way. I’m your teacher, your Steward.”
    She shrugged. “You won’t always be.”
    Fosso put his heavy hands on Lissa Kraaskau’s shoulders. “You are the most talented, the most tenacious, the most beautiful—and so also the most frustrating—student I have ever had. How can anyone, even with the power of Entitlement, stand up to all that?”
    “Does this mean that Kan Fosso’s legendary patience has been outmatched?”
    “You’ll corrupt me yet.”
    She giggled through her excitement. Her smile sweetened, and the blush of her cheeks grew more intense.
    Kan Fosso stayed where he was in the air, hands still gripping Lissa gently, but the steel drained from him. Like beads of mercury, it rolled down his his chest, off his shoulders, dissipating to nothing, leaving him naked before her and drawing from her a shiver. He stared into her blazing green eyes, desperate to say what he wanted to say, but only able to shake his head in mute