Justin took the glossy, wallet-sized photo from Cyaxares, but he could summon no other words. He stared at the photo of himself-hair carefully styled, a collared shirt, posed before a blue, marbled background-in a photo that looked like it had been in storage for a lifetime.

"To explain the existence of what you hold in your hand," Cyaxares said, "I must start with the story of Avagad himself." She took a deep breath. "You asked me if he was the one whom I referred to as the master of ...