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It wasn't like he had much room to advocate for himself, either. He'd allowed Collins to be killed, Ivan to be captured, and any element of surprise regarding an invasion of Sair to be lost.

But the most gut-wrenching aspect of it, the thing that really cut into his heart like a knife... was how Morgunov had spoken to him when taking command away from him. The Mad Demon hadn't gotten mad, not even in that strange, happy-yet-obviously-angry manner of his. He hadn't punished him or even threatened to do so.

Instead, he just said, "It's okay, Casty. I'm sure you tried your best." And gave him that look.

That look of utter dismissal. Of low expectations being met.

Absolutely soul-crushing. For a man of Caster's ambition, there was almost nothing more damning than that.

But in the end, it was just another example of what they'd been talking about in their meetings for years. The hard cap. Or "the Wall," as some liked to call it.

It always came back to that, sooner or later. No matter how confident he was feeling after a good day or a strong victory, it was just a matter of time until someone or something reminded him of reality.

Oh, what he wouldn't give for the chance to break down that Wall.

They talked about coming to terms with it. They talked about learning to accept themselves for what they were. They talked about looking for other ways to grow their power, to round themselves out and "achieve wholeness," as some put it.

But as he climbed this cursed tower in a dead continent on the edge of the world, he was in no mood to kid himself. If he really believed any of that horseshit, he wouldn't be here, right now. He would've told Paulie to shut his fool mouth and leave him alone.