Serena, dressed in a white gown with one long sleeve on her right, left the other arm bare except for a single gold cuff at her wrist. Sharp, angular lines cut across the fabric in ways that seemed almost aggressive. It was slit from the floor almost to her waist, leaving one leg bare. Her auburn curls, usually loose and dramatic, had been tamed into an elegant knot at the base of her neck.

  She moved through the party with the confidence of someone who'd attended a thousand of these events and still found them mildly amusing. There was a dizzying number of people crammed into the home, and at times it became hard to maneuver, but they all gave way when they noticed it was Serena Winters in their midst.

  Morthisal quickly finished his Sex on the Beach to loosen up and glanced about for another bar.

  "That's Marcus Chen," Serena said, nodding toward a man in his thirties with perfectly tousled hair. "He did The Infinite Loop. Won a Golden Globe. Total sweetheart, but his agent is a shark."

  Marcus noticed Serena and waved. She waved back but kept moving.

  "Over there is Lila Rosenberg. Development exec at Celestial Pictures. She'll tell you your idea is 'interesting' while already composing the rejection email in her head."

  "I have heard from her," Morthisal said, remembering the woman's voice mail.

  "Did you?"

  "Yes. After the Dark Realms trailer was released, she left me a voicemail."

  "And you didn't call her back? You must be more confident than I would have guessed."

  Lila wore statement glasses with bright red frames and gestured animatedly to a bored-looking man in a turtleneck.

  "He produces mid-budget films," Serena continued. "Good ones. They win awards. He's brilliant but exhausting. Always wants to talk about his turtle collection."

  They approached a cluster of people near the windows. Serena touched Morthisal's elbow and leaned in. "I know you're new ot all this, so a few words of advice. Remember. These people can smell desperation from across the room. Use your confidence, but not in an overly cocky way. Interested but not eager. And for God's sake, don't mention your IMDb page."

  "I do not have an—"

  "You do. It's brief."

  Morthisal fought back at grin.

  Serena introduced him to a parade of faces and names that quickly blurred together. A cinematographer who'd worked on three Best Picture nominees. A screenwriter who'd sold a spec script for seven figures. An actress whose name Morthisal recognized from billboards but whose face he'd never seen without heavy makeup.

  Each conversation followed a similar pattern. Polite interest in the Dark Realms trailer. Questions about Marty Klein that carried a subtle undertone of pity. Vague promises to "stay in touch" that meant absolutely nothing.

  "And that," Serena lowered her voice and pointed, "is our host, Levi Blackwood."

  Morthisal followed her gaze to a man who could only be described as aggressively flamboyant. Levi wore an orange suit with tiger stripes and matching orange-framed glasses that were far too large for his face. He laughed at something a woman said, throwing his head back theatrically, before using a small handkerchief to dab at the corner of his lip, and sweeping toward them.

  "Serena! Darling!"

  With hands balled together on his chest, he air-kissed Serena on both cheeks, then turned his attention to Morthisal.

  "And who is this delicious specimen?"

  "Levi, this is Vince Logan. He's in an upcoming film called Dark Realms: The Rise of Morthisal."

  "Oh my God, I saw that trailer!" Levi clapped his hands together. "You were absolutely terrifying. I had nightmares. Actual nightmares. It was wonderful."

  "Thank you." Morthisal smiled. "That was my intention."

  "Oh! Color me frightened, darling! Although." Levi tilted his head, "A birdie whispered in my ear that you're auditioning for Serena's little indie project. Playing a sweet bookshop owner? That's quite the pivot."

  Morthisal nodded. "Expanding my range, yes. I have been assured that consistently playing villains leads to increasingly small roles. That is not my path."

  "Tell me about it." Levi's smile didn't reach his eyes. "The question is whether audiences will buy it. Typecasting is a bitch, but it exists for a reason."

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Levi," Serena warned.

  "What? I'm being honest. It's a compliment, really. He's so good at being menacing that it'll be hard to see him as anything else." Levi turned back to Morthisal. "No offense, darling."

  "None taken," Morthisal lied, pondering how this man would look as he stripped off his clothing and ran around the room while loudly proclaiming himself a bird of prey.

  Levi waved his hand in the air, and a server quickly approached with a tray covered with flutes of sparkling liquid. He took two and handed them to Serena and Vince without asking. Morthisal placed his empty cocktail glass on the server's tray. The alcohol was slightly sweet and cloyingly sour; at least the carbonation gave it some range. Morthisal wouldn't wish to subsist on campaigne, but it wasn't the worst thing he had ever tasted by a long shot.

  A woman approached their group. She was possibly in her late twenties, with dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She wore a perfectly tailored pantsuit and moved with the controlled energy of someone who ran on coffee and initiative.

  "Jordan!" Serena brightened. "Perfect timing. Remember the guy I told you about named Vince Logan? Here he is."

  Jordan Park extended a hand to Morthisal. Her grip was firm, businesslike.

  "Vince Logan. It's a pleasure to meet you.

  Vince shook her hand. "Serena mentioned you might be interested in representing me."

  "Might be?" Jordan's smile was sharp. "I watched the Dark Realms trailer four times. You're compelling on screen. Raw, but compelling. I understand you're method. That can also be raw, but…er, compelling…" she trailed off, probably realizing she had repeated herself.

  "Thank you."

  Jordan studied him with unsettling intensity. "Serena says you're working on emotional range. That you bombed the first audition but convinced her to give you another shot. That's also persuasive."

  "I am a quick learner, and as I have told Serena, a competent actor when I wish to be."

  Serena put her hand on Jordan's arm. "Get this. He said he acted his way into the party."

  "A party crasher? Oh, get security up here immediately. The imposing fellow with the tablet would be perfect." Levi threw in boisterously, then waved his hand in front of his face, eliciting laughter from those around them.

  "We'll see." Jordan pulled out her phone and typed something quickly. "I'm tentatively putting you in my calendar for next week. We'll talk representation if you nail the second audition. Until then, consider this a preliminary meeting."

  Levi had been avidly studying the conversation between Vince and Jordan. Before Morthisal could respond to the young agent, Levi clapped his hands together loudly.

  "Everyone! Everyone, can I have your attention?"

  The conversations around them died down. Guests turned toward their host.

  "Thank you all for coming to celebrate my birthday and the fact that I'm not dead yet, despite Hollywood's best efforts." Polite laughter rippled through the crowd. "Now, I have a little game I like to play at these gatherings. Consider it... my birthday gift. Won't you all indulge me?"

  A prickle of unease crept up Morthisal's neck.

  "I like to put people on the spot," Levi continued, his eyes scanning the room. "See what they're really made of. And tonight, I have the perfect victim—I mean, volunteer."

  His gaze landed on Morthisal.

  "Our friend Vince here is up for a big movie role, and he's about to have representation. Have you seen his performance in the Dark Realms trailer? Marvelous. Frightening. Moving beyond the scary villain into more nuanced territory." Levi's smile widened, and he tapped his lip. "I say we all watch this hot up-and-comer while he's fresh."

  "Levi," Serena said quietly.

  Morthisal, sensing what was coming, prepared a thread of power. Then a few more if he needed to make a polite exit. Watching those who were now focused on him, he supposed such a move could lean toward career suicide.

  "What? It's all in good fun." Levi gestured grandly. "Vince, darling, I want you to give us thirty seconds. Just thirty seconds. A father saying goodbye to his daughter before she leaves for college. No preparation. No script. Just you showing us your emotional range."

  "Levi!" Serena hissed.

  The room had gone completely silent. Several people had their phones out, cameras already recording.

  Jordan, with arms crossed, watched him with cool assessment.

  This was a test. A cruel one, designed to humiliate him in front of industry professionals. In his former life, Morthisal would have turned Levi Blackwood into a walking, talking undead creature or a court jester with flayed skin and tiny horns covering his face. Or perhaps a pile of ash. The options would have been numerous and satisfying.

  Morthisal had been challenged too many times to count. His enemies had always underestimated him. This time, he may have met his match.

  "We can do this another time," Serena stared daggers at Levi while she put her hand on Vince's arm and gently tugged.

  Morthisal stood his ground and stared, unblinking, into the eyes of Levi, who eventually looked away. The thread was ready. All he had to do was seize this man's mind. Many threads had spun out, ready for those directly around him as well, though Morthisal knew there weren't enough to affect the entire room. Perhaps a diversion of some sort.

  Or he could attempt what was asked of him.

  He closed his eyes. Thought of Rex's lessons. Find something real. Connect it to the character's emotion.

  There was nothing in this world outside of the loss of Yvette that brought the same feeling. He had practiced and made progress with Rex, but he was completely unprepared for this. He should give in now, walk away, and hope for the best.

  That was not the way of Dark Lord Morthisal. How many times had he used his enormous power to control those around him? How many times had he used his significant power on Mythralon to make the city bow to him, or one of the rulers to cry for mercy?

  Morthisal blinked. Blinked again. Blinked a third time as a mad plan unraveled in his mind.

  "A moment," he said and closed his eyes again.

  Situations called for big dark lord energy, and this was certainly one of them.

  He carefully formed a small thread and left it to dissipate after use. There was no way to use it as a hook anyway. No. This was for a single use.

  He thought of Yvette's SUV disappearing around the corner. The hollow ache in his chest as he watched her leave. The knowledge that she might not return.

  He thought of his empire in Mythralon. The Shadowspike Citadel. The legions he'd commanded. All of it gone in an instant, replaced by this strange world where his power was limited and his purpose unclear.

  He thought of losing everything he'd ever known and fed it into the thread.

  Then he unleashed it on his own mind.