Chapters 702-715 (Patreon)

So! I made a mistake. In my efforts to delete chapters due to Book 9 going to Amazon and Audible (a contractual requirement) I removed too many!
Putting these chapters up until RR is caught up to this point, then they'll go down again.
Sorry for the confusion folks.

* * *


702

The two of them slipped out of the drafty side door leading onto a rooftop patio. It was why they'd rented the cramped apartment in the first place.

"Who are they?" Atar asked as they stepped into the chill winds.

Isla raised a finger to her lips and shook her head.

Bah.

The patio was level with the next building, and the Chanter swiftly leaped across the gap. Atar followed, though with far less grace. The cloaked figures scurried below, passing down street after street, taking turns seemingly at random. And all the while, the two of them shadowed them from above, like hawks hunting prey.

However, when the two cloaked figures turned down onto an empty side street, they paused before vanishing entirely.

"They're using the same devices as the thief," Atar murmured. He reached up and activated his amulet, the one he had made to counter the artifacts of their quarry. Its magic sang through him just in time to see the hazy form of their targets scurry down the street and around the corner. He and the Chanter traded a look before they followed at speed.

Now that they were practically invisible, the cloaked figures lost all sense of caution and ran pell-mell for their destination, a large mansion deep in the Scale district. They passed through a small set of wrought iron gates, trudging across deep snow to enter through a side entrance.

Shortly after, Atar and Isla crept onto the grounds. It was a risk, but Atar detected no sigaldry and the Chanter was confident that the property was not warded.

“Strange for such a place,” Isla commented. “Not even a simple alarm to tell the occupants of new arrivals.”

That didn't feel right to Atar either, but it did make their job easier. They stole across the grounds and up to the mansion, where Isla whispered something in song. Thick ivy rose from the frozen earth, growing rapidly up the wall and protruding in very obvious handholds. Atar mimed applause. Smirking, the golden-haired Chanter led the way up and onto a low roof.

“Woven Silence,” Atar murmured. A soft wave of Mana spun from his hands and feet, coating both of them in a cocoon of quiet. After a few gentle tests, they found a single unlocked window and eased it open carefully. The spell caught and muffled its squeaking, and the two of them slipped through.

Within, Atar found the cluttered room of a child. Wooden toys were scattered across the ground, along with a number of delicate dolls, and right next to the window was a four-poster child’s bed. A little girl slept there, hair askew and breathing deeply while clutching one of her dolls.

"What is going on here?" he whispered. The nature of his spell meant any words he spoke would be heard only by Isla. “Who lives here?”

"I do not know," Isla replied, "but we shall find out."

They crept out of the room and down the hall, keeping to the shadows. Woven Silence ate through his mana but as the floorboards creaked more than once, Atar was happy for the sacrifice. They walked like shadows in the night, out past a balcony overlooking the front entrance. The lanterns were dimmed and there was no one in either the parlor or the sitting room.

Isla tapped Atar’s shoulder and pointed further down the corridor. Light spilled up a set of stairs in the back, likely for the servants. Wordlessly, they slipped down the hall and followed the light. Below, they found the kitchens and a narrow door. Atar peered through a crack in the door and spotted their quarry.

Three people stood within the relatively small chamber, which had a large but battered table complete with spindly chairs. Clearly a servant’s dining room, it was still lavishly decorated. The walls were covered in tapestries to keep out the cold, but they were rich, expensive things woven with thread of gold and silver and depicting noble knights hunting dire beasts. A merry fire burnt in a hearth wider than the tiny apartment they had been squatting in, and its flames lit up the room and filled it with a stifling warmth.

A rotund man with a large mustache and a fine dressing gown, stood angrily by the hearth. He glared bleary-eyed at his two cloaked visitors. “When I said I would aid you, I did not mean you could come to my house, my home, in the middle of the night.”

“They know of our involvement, Zekal." The large man in the dressing gown paled, his mustache quivering. "Who knows?"

"We are uncertain who, but they are threatening to tell the Chancellor about our activities." Zekal’s lip curled. "The inhuman puppet of our fine tyrant."

Tyrant? Atar frowned Are they talking about Felix?

"How could this happen? You assured me that what we did would remain a secret. You promised me that,” Zekal almost growled.

“I assured you that you would be protected, and that is why we are here, fool,” the taller figure snarled right back, and Zekal flinched.

“Fine.” His mustache quivered as he attempted to sniff imperiously. “What is your plan to rectify this?"

The shorter figure wringed their hands together. "We must get the remainder of your reagents. The work must be completed before—"

"Hold," the taller one said, head lifting. "Someone—"

Isla stepped out, green-gold Mana playing around her arms and hands. Rigid vines burst through the floorboards, snaking across theri bodies until they were bound, hand and foot. The noble barely did more than whimper in fear while the cloaked figures fought mightily until Isla snapped off some wordless command. Serrated thorns grew from the vines, pressing toward their vital areas until they dimpled their exposed flesh. Flowers the size of dinnerplates bloomed alongside the highest thorns, and their pale petals shoved back their hoods.

“Sima and Gauruk. I thought I recognized your whining," Isla said, her voice low and dark. Atar's skin crawled at her tone, which plucked at a primal instinct within his heart. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to run from that place.

begone.

The fear vanished, burnt away by a plume of flame that scoured his core space. Atar blinked and stepped out after Isla. "Chanters? Explain yourselves," he demanded.

"Isla and the Autarch’s pet fire mage," the orc growled. Gauruk, Atar assumed. She looked to Isla. "The letter, that was you?"

"You are not asking the questions here," Isla said. "You are working with the saboteurs that destroyed the places around the city. Why?"

"Do not answer her, Sima," Gauruk ordered. The pale-haired man snapped his mouth shut. "She cannot kill us without bringing us to the Cantus. Mauvim would have her head."

"I care little for censure when it comes to betrayal, and I'll do worse than kill you, Sima. Have you considered spending the next century as a fire beetle?" The thorns around him tightened, drawing a gasp of pain from the man. "Talk to me," she demanded.

"I will talk," the noble said, tears streaming down his face. "I–I don't want to be a beetle!”

“Speak.”

“Ah, I harvest reagents in the forest. Beasts, fungi, even rare herbs that grow in this forsaken weather. It's hard work, thankless work, and the harvest sells for a pittance barely enough to maintain the roof over my head."

Atar looked up at the very expensive chandelier that hung down in the servants' common area. "Uh-huh. How sad for you."

Zekal nodded earnestly. "I am reduced to so little. Many of us were when Haarwatch fell. My true profits had all been in the mines, but my holdings were destroyed in the city's collapse, and the rise of Lady Boscal wrested away what little profits I was still making. So I spent everything I could, all my fortune, on coming here to Elderthrone. I even paid for this house to be built according to my specifications, though I had to settle for this paltry district instead of a place befitting a man of my station.” The noble gritted his teeth. “The Chancellor had refused it, you know, as had that Knacht brat. It was good his father was crushed by the Eyrie tower. He would have been appalled to see how his son treated his peers."

Atar clenched his fists, feeling anger roll through him like fire in his veins. But he stayed silent.

"I don't care about your pitiful life story," Isla said. "Explain what you are doing."

"I was getting to—I apologize. I was hired to gather those reagents and bring the majority to them.” Unable to gesture with his hands, Zekal nodded at the two Chanters. “And they took them and paid me twice what I was making in the market. How could I refuse? It's just sound business."

"And did you know this business was harming people?" The noble went quiet at her words, and Atar could gather all he needed from his guilty Spirit. Disgusted, Isla turned to the others. "If you two are involved, then so is Anguin. Where is he?"

"We don't know," Sima paled. "We don't know. He said he was going to meet the—”

“Quiet Sima, that does not concern them."

"You made it concern the entire city when you funneled supplies to this dangerous group. People have died, Gauruk. Does that not matter to you?"

"Freedom must be paid in blood. The people of Neer knew that when they faced down the queen's men. How could we risk less?"

"You only risk the lives of others," Atar said. And that heat gathered now behind his eyes. His skin prickled as if he had a fever. "For what?"

"We will not be shackled. Not by the Hierocracy, and certainly not by Nevarre!”

“They're afraid, Atar. All of them. Anguin, too, for all his bluster." Isla looked thoroughly disgusted. "You're fools, and I was a fool for allowing you into my home."

Gauruk sneered at the far shorter Chanter. "Do you think me stupid? I found out you've been a plant for Zara this whole time. That's why I told Anguin not to include you in this. That's why, when the time comes, you will not be exempt from retribution."

"Retribution from who?" Atar asked and the two Chanters went silent again.

Isla tightened her vines, but even when her thorns drew blood they did not speak. "Sima?” the pale Chanter pressed his lips tight as blood ran down his cheek. “Pathetic. You risk the lives of others for your own supposed freedom, but in the end you’re just afraid.”

Gauruk’s fists clenched, and unfettered anger rolled off her Spirit.

This is going nowhere. Atar's skin burned, and he suppressed a mad desire to itch his entire body. We need to end this before anyone else gets hurt.

let me aid you, atar.

Atar clenched his jaw. No, I can solve this myself. He had spent enough time with Harn and Felix, and seen his fair share of unconventional tactics.

Primal Firestorm!

Atar's body became flame, white streaked with vibrant crimson. He grabbed Sima's cloak, igniting it, but controlling the flames so that they merely licked at the man's skin. Sima cried out, and the Chanter’s skin reddened around Atar's grip. "I'm tired of this game. Who is your contact?"

“I—”

Atar said nothing. Instead, his flames flowed hotter, turning a patch of his cloak to ash before Sima’s skin began to char.

"We don't know!" Sima hurriedly said. "We were only to arrange deliveries of the reagents, always to a new place!"

"Quiet, Sima!” Gauruk shouted.

"Name. Give me a name."

"Rodrik Beltane!" Sima cried out.

Just as the orc broke free of her vines. "Die!"

She brought her hands down, wreathed in stone and falling like a warhammer.

Inexorable Enkindling!

Primal firestorm winked out, as did the blaze within the wide hearth. All of it surged into Atar, boosting his strength as he caught the orc Chanter's blow with a single hand.

"Tried it once," he said. "Didn't take." With his other hand, he threw a powerful jab into her gut. He felt something break, and the orc dropped to the ground.

You have defeated Gauruk Earthcaller!

XP earned!

A bit of silence followed, and Atar felt the eyes of everyone on him. He ignored them and focused on Sima, who was still bound in place.

"Rodrik Beltane," he repeated. "Where can I find him?"

703

Alister considered the knife in his hand. It promised escape and death all at once. The first was as compelling as the shine of the southern sun upon its length, and the second... Alister pressed the tip of the knife down and cut, stabbing his fork through the tender roasted loin before popping the lot of it in his mouth. He was surrounded by guards during his meal with the prince, and none of them so much as blinked as he ate. Had Alister decided to put the knife to a different use, he had no doubt that his death would be the only result.

"How was your night, Lord Knacht?" the prince asked. His voice was calm and pleasant, and his appearance was nothing short of immaculate. "Did you sleep well?"

"Of course. Your guest chamber is exquisitely furnished," Alister lied. He had stayed up most of the night, attempting to think his way out of his current predicament. "I only hope my soldiers have received equal treatment."

"Ah, such is the sad burden of leadership, Lord Knacht. Power must be displayed, or else it fades from the eyes of your people. Your soldiers are billeted with the Knights Ghreldan. And received a soldier's meals.”

“They feast in chains."

"No. Not yet, at least." The prince ate a small piece of crimson tuber and dabbed his lips with a linen cloth. "You still have not agreed to my request."

Alister fought hard to keep the scowl from his face and voice. "I do not find your request reasonable, Prince Tevin."

"Oh, your soldiers would do well under my command. Though few in number, their advanced Temper would be a great boon to the threat offered by my kin and the Hierocracy both. Surely you see that."

"I know the legion would do well against the Hierocracy. I have seen it time and again. What I cannot do is swear over their lives to you, the man who holds them hostage."

Tevin appeared thoughtful, though Alister doubted the man had ever once questioned himself. The prince seemed to be self-confident, bordering on delusional, but Alister couldn't deny that he'd caught him neatly in a trap. If Alister fought back or denied him too vehemently, his soldiers were at risk of death or enslavement.

"Hostage is a repugnant word, I think. I simply hold them as collateral for your legion's goodwill. It would do you well to remember that I am not forcing you into anything. I have treated you with the utmost courtesy and respect." Tevin folded the napkin across his lap, never once breaking eye contact. "I do not have to."

The table and its contents shook, silverware rattling against the fine plates. "What was that?" Tevin demanded.

Knight-Commander Lavin rushed up to his side, followed by two of her knights. "My prince, the Nagafolk have started hurling boulders at the walls."

Above the glass ceiling of the solarium, Alister saw the blue morning sky flash bright pink and yellow as the shield responded to every impact. They spread like waves over the shoreline. Alister thought it was quite beautiful, and put cheer back into his heart. The Deepking grows impatient. How can I use this?

"Bah," Prince Tevin scoffed. "Our shields held out against the flood and Fathom. They can hold out against pebbles and snakes."

The Knight-Commander bit back her words, a frown marring her features before she smoothed them to neutrality. "What do you wish us to do, my prince?"

"Your job. Load the ballistas. You’ve often complained at how infrequently we train with the things. Now you've perfect target practice simply waiting outside our walls."

The Knight-Commander nodded to one of her officers who ran off, presumably back to the battlements. "If this continues," she said, "the shields will be depleted of power within the week."

"Then drain the Gallants and refill the core," the prince snapped.

"With all due respect, sir, the Gallants are not strong enough to refill the core without all of them taking part, and that will pull them from our defenses. It will also damage their channels and core spaces if they spend too much time draining their Mana—"

"And?" the prince asked, spearing a large portion of roasted meat with his knife. "The Gallants only exist to provide magical solutions to magical problems. If they are broken in service, then they should embrace the honor. It is their very purpose.”

"Very well, sir." Another nod and a second underling went scurrying off, but not before Alister caught the rumble of disgust and anger wafting from their Spirit.

Prince Tevin dabbed his napkin at his lips once again. "Lord Knacht, my Knight-Commander is correct about one thing: this will be a dreadful waste of resources. These serpents seem intent on upsetting our pending alliance. Stop them."

"I have no control over the Deepking's people," Alister said, placing his own napkin over his plate. "His is a sovereign nation as much as yours."

The prince slammed the table with his fist. "The snake is a trespasser upon my Authority! A usurper of a temple rightfully mine!" The man's hair had come askew, his perfect presentation marred by anger and beads of sweat. "He pays deference to your Autarch. Make him listen."

"As you have pointed out, Prince Tevin, I am not the Autarch. The Nagafolk will not listen to me, especially not when you have their people locked within this fortress."

Tevin ground his teeth so hard Alister could almost feel the vibrations. "Fine, then since you will neither swear an Oath nor act to de-escalate your rabid allies, then their slaughter is on you.” He snapped his fingers. “Commander, take Alister and his people into custody, where they will remain until they have learned to see reason."

"I appreciate you doing this without manacles," Alister said as he was marched down one of the many ornate hallways. They ducked through an archway and passed through a garden. "You already took my rapier, after all. I am of little use in battle without it."

Commander Lavin didn't respond, but then Alister hadn't figured she would. He'd spent little time with the woman, but he’d felt he’d gotten her measure in Bogfeld. Alister had a lot of respect for how she had handled that entire situation.

That feeling had lost a bit of its shine in recent days.

They turned down a corridor for a time, and Alister noticed the commander was walking a bit slower than he expected. He'd almost outpaced her a time or two and had to slow his stride to match. The last thing he wanted was to seem like he was looking to escape, and he didn’t want that; when he left this place, Alister aimed for it to be a surprise.

He needed to find a way out of there, and he needed to take his people with him. It was a puzzle that Alister had not yet solved, but he would. He had to.

Another hall, another ornate chamber leading into another resplendent indoor garden. Or was it the same garden? Alister thought he recognized a particular flowering shrub, but wasn't positive. Their journey was taking more time than he’d expected.

Best make use of it.

"Where are my people being taken?" he asked, and couldn't help the heat that bled into his voice.

"To the quarry, same as the rest. Little else can hold all of you."

Alister frowned. That wasn’t good. The quarry had little in the way of cover, and the guards posted on the ledges could stop any escape attempt in a few heartbeats. The Nagafolk prisoners were far worse off in their cages. Alister doubted they were ever let out. If his people were all put in there, he’d never get them out.

Time for some calculated risks.

"Why do this?" he asked. "Even if you kill us all, this won't end well for you. Felix doesn't forgive people that hurt his allies."

Lavin stopped, mid-stride, forcing Alister to do the same. "I remember him well, you know." Alister looked back, and the woman was staring out a window, with a shield still rippled with flashing colors. "He infiltrated my Redoubt, sowed confusion among my convocation, and saved us from certain death."

Alister frowned, spotting that same flowering shrub again. "You're not taking me to a cell or the quarry."

"No, not yet," Lavin said. She reached up and took off her helmet. Her face was more gaunt than Alister recalled, and her eyes seemed haunted. "I know folly when I hear it. The prince paints an enticing picture, but what he has failed to mention is that he has already begun a conflict against his cousins, and they have led to catastrophic losses. Many of my friends and allies, those I swore to protect, are gone."

A deep tremor shook the fortress as something huge impacted the shields. Lavin gripped the sill, but her eyes weren’t seeing the shield. "I have lost faith in him.”

“Then why follow his command? Why do—"

Lavin held up a hand, halting Alister's questions. "Your king, this Nevarre, I spoke with him only a little, but he was solid, and he cared for his people, and he was powerful." She shivered. "I told the prince what he did in Bogfeld, but he—as I said, my faith is shaken."

"You wish to switch loyalties?" Alister asked. "Are you not Oathbound?"

"We are Oathbound to protect the life of our prince, but if he continues as he is, Tevin will perish along with everything I have built, and all that I have loved. I will not allow that."

She stopped Alister. "If the prince is incapacitated by wound, Status Condition, or instability, then his Authority would fall on his heirs. As the prince has not seen fit to sire any, it will revert onto my shoulders."

Alister could see where this was going, and he couldn't quite believe it. "You mean—”

“I would broker a deal with you, Alister Knacht," Lavin said. "To save what is left of my province."

704

“So the mouse I saw was real?" Felix asked.

"Very much so, I am afraid,” Vess said. The two of them sat together on an overturned stone atop the destroyed walls of Fortress Fenwald. Almost every structure, aside from the central keep, was half-collapsed. In the past twelve hours, they had done little except recover. Felix eyed the broken masonry, thinking about how he could fix things.

"No, no, that’s a relief. I thought I was going crazy a little bit." Felix rubbed his neck. He was still a bit sore from his fights, but things had healed well enough over the past day.

"It was an eventful afternoon," Vess agreed.

"The Grim Nightshade, huh?" Felix was surprised to learn things like that existed. Well, “surprised” wasn’t the right word. In a world of Elementals, gods, and Dragons, a spirit of nature was hardly groundbreaking—and yet it suggested a new facet to the world that Felix hadn't known existed. He’d always thought Urges were like miniature gods: not yet powerful enough to rule, but very potent. All he knew about the gods came from snippets he’d pieced together and its own words. They weren't always gods. What they were before was a mystery. Mortal? Monster? Urge? The Grim Nightshade, though, was something else. Based on what Vess told him, it was a manifestation of the Green Wilds itself.

Nature has a spirit? Or is it a spirit of the song? Yet, the more Felix thought of it, the more it made a convoluted sort of sense. The Grand Harmony was everything according to the Chanters, with each and every piece of Creation vibrating at varying speeds and patterns. Mana, Essence, even significance fell under its umbrella. The Green Wilds then, with its Aria and Threnody, were a facet of that larger and more complex song. Felix wasn’t sure how much of that he believed, but it was a compelling idea. He was also positive that he was missing many pieces of the larger puzzle. He hadn’t known about Entropic energy either until recently, for instance.

Is there a spirit for Dissonance? Felix chewed the inside of his lip, mulling that over…only to realize he’d been silent for entirely too long. “Uh, so. The Grim it…joined with you and Yin? Like a Companion?”

“We entered into a bargain. It shares similarities with a Companion bond, but it is distinctly different. I cannot call upon the Grim for aid, nor can it summon me, but there is a mutual benefit nonetheless.” Vess rolled her glaive in her lap, and the heavy speartip flashed in the sunlight. “Its presence has affected me already.”

Felix frowned. “Like when I sent you the Withering Dust’s power?”

“No, thankfully not. My Skills remain unchanged but they are boosted, along with a significant bonus to two separate stats.”

"Oh, really?" Felix said. "I received something similar when the grim gave me a title. I assume because I ate a piece of whatever it had done to the Janus Hydra. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”

“How bold, Lord Nevarre.”

Felix smirked. “You know me…”

Simultaneously, they sent their Titles and recent notifications to one another.

Bargain Of Bark And Bite (Unique)

You have entered into a bargain with the Spirit of the Green Wilds! As such, a portion of all significance you earn henceforth will be sacrificed to the Grim Nightshade, and in return you gain access to the power hidden in the Wilds.

+200 AFI

+100 INE

+50 Levels To Draconic Bond!

+5 Levels To On The Wing

+5 Levels To The Spear Of Tribulations!

+5 Levels To The Fang Of Havoc!

+5 Levels To Draconic Stormfall!

+5 Levels To Matriarch's Lament!

On the Wing is level 98!

Spear of Tribulations is level 94!

Fang of Havoc is level 94!

Draconic Stormfall is level 93!

Matriarch's Lament is level 91!

Draconic Bond is level 22!

…

Draconic Bond is level 71!

Apprentice Tier!

You Gain:

+30 STR

+30 VIT

+30 AGL

Journeyman Tier!

You Gain:

+50 STR

+50 VIT

+50 AGL

“My Draconic Bond is the greatest boost, and the rest, as you see, all pushed well into the 90s.” Wonder rippled from her shoulders like sound from a plucked string. “I am so very close to Master Tier, and I cannot believe it.”

“Soon you’ll have to start forging your Pillars,” Felix said. “We should start worrying about that once your father is safe.”

Vess squeezed Felix’s leg, just above the knee. “Thank you. Yes I cannot imagine how much I might grow after the assault. The sudden stat gains from double Tiering my Bond Skill was heady enough, let alone reaching Master. I found myself swimming in them as part of the process of sealing the bargain.”

Felix smiled. “I’m happy for you. That’s an intense experience.”

“It was. Before Yin sequestered himself, he explained that even more would be coming once he'd Evolved, and part of me is afraid of how much I've changed already."

"Is Yin resting?"

“By successfully bargaining with the Grim, he has earned his first Evolution, but his people do such things in seclusion. I have not spoken with him these past twelve glasses, but I can feel a knot of power in my chest, where our bond resides. It tells me he is almost finished."

"I know how that goes," Felix said, glancing over at his Companion. Pit was sitting nearby in his Tyrant form, currently glowing like the aurora borealis. "Pit's almost done, too."

"As if waiting for his words, three notifications popped into Felix's vision.

2 Of 3 Skill Evolutions Complete!

Your Companion Has Evolved Breath of the Wild (L) Into Mercy of the Thorn (T)!

Level Has Been Retained!

Mercy Of The Thorn (Transcendent), Level 49!

You have walked from the refined air and into the depths of the forest thicket, where branch and bramble weave with light and shadow, life and death. By sacrificing a piece of your Health and Stamina, you may boost the regeneration of all targets within range. Status Conditions can also be removed from targets by absorbing them onto yourself. Range increases with Skill level.

Your Companion Has Evolved Dawn's Advent (E) Into Nimbus Of The Moon (T)!

Level Has Been Retained!

Nimbus Of The Moon (Transcendent), Level 82!

The moons have stories beyond their rise and fall, and few gain their attention. You ride the winds and claim dominion over the skies…but the dawn is not all that shines. Invoke the light of the moon and drop beams upon your foes within range. Inflicts Moonlit Affliction, which impedes their Agility and limns them with moonlight, making them incapable of stealth.

ERROR!

Felix flinched, feeling a stab at his own core space that had nothing to do with his bond…and everything.

As This Final Evolution Involves You, Felix Nevarre, You Must Agree:

Do You Wish To Evolve Etheric Concordance (L)?

Y/N

Holy—Pit, you should’ve mentioned that. Felix winced as more power stabbed into the Skill he shared with his friend. Yes. Evolve it.

Evolution In Progress!

System energy burst through both him and Pit, scouring them across their bond, and Felix couldn’t help but double over in agony.

“Felix? What is happening?” Vess asked, coming to her feet.

“Pit…Skill evolution,” he managed through gritted teeth. “I’ll…be fine!”

He fell within himself, following the coursing surge of golden light, heavily streaked by deep black and vibrant crimson. A line of light had become visible, connecting Felix’s Etheric Concordance with its distant twin across the gulf of core spaces. The same aurora from his Mantle extended here, though it stopped somewhere in the middle, spitting sparks and thunder as if held back.

As if waiting.

Felix reached out, his Will and Intent shaping the thrust of his Skill as an answering flow of opalescent colors shot across the gap. They collided in the black and exploded into a perfectly circular shockwave that ripped backward across their bond, until it swept through Felix and Pit both.

Evolution Complete!

Your Companion Has Evolved Etheric Concordance (L) Into Exalted Conjunction (T)!

Level Has Been Retained!

Exalted Conjunction (Transcendent), Level 98!

Through trials and tribulations, your connection with your Companion has deepend beyond the domain of concordance. Using one another’s Skills is easier than ever, but consequences are the price of power. Your Aspects intertwine in ways as irreversible as they are potent. Whatever targets one of you, it is considered an attack on you both. Whatever injuries or Status Conditions are suffered are endured by both. However, all defenses and regenerations are determined by whomever has the higher total value.

All previous abilities of Etheric Concordance are retained.

All Choices Have Consequences.

A spike of pain followed by a release of joyful music hit Felix as Pit came out of his extended meditation. The Chimera chirruped and looked right at him.

"I did it!"

"So I saw.” Felix rubbed at his chest, though it did nothing for the lingering sting within. “You didn't tell me you were going to evolve our bond."

"It was a surprise," Pit said, tongue lolling from his giant beak. "It's…good, right?"

Felix glanced over at it again. "Good’s an understatement, bud. With this, we'll be harder to stop than ever."

"You’re not worried about the risks?" Pit asked. He dug a claw into the stone beneath him, scoring a hole with its sharp crystalline talon. He looked like a kid who got caught breaking a lamp. "If we get hurt, it’ll hurt both of us. I didn’t think that would happen."

"That’s a big ‘if,’ bud. If this means we're sharing our highest defenses, then the chances of that are pretty slim.” In Felix’s estimation, it meant he had to worry about his friend even less than before.

“Not to mention, sharing your Skills is a potent boon," Vess added. "It is little wonder the gods are worried about you two."

Felix shared a grin with Pit, who trilled happily. "Well, we had enough trouble dealing with the Janus Hydra, and that wasn't even a real Paragon monster.” Vess had explained to him that the Grim Nightshade had temporarily boosted its power somehow, but even a false Paragon had taken all they had and more to defeat. "I’m not ready for gods. Yet."

Vess’ expression hardened. "What about the Grandmaster Hierei?"

"Him?" Felix squeezed her hand. “Piece of cake.”

705

Ouranic Dominion!

Felix borrowed Pit's Skill to hover atop the wind currents high above Fortress Fenwald. It was a clever Skill, though it didn't quite work without wings. Felix was forced to utilize Storm Shaping to balance himself on tufts of air, which gave him the interesting side effect of gathering a small bank of clouds around him like a cloak.

Dang, that Skill didn’t lie. Using your Skill is almost scary easy, Felix sent to his friend.

Easy huh? How come you’re so wobbly then?

Shush.

Their bond shook with chirruping laughter. Felix ignored it and focused on the task at hand. Flying was for a purpose aside from testing their Skill sharing; he was assessing the fortress below. Fenwald had taken serious damage during their fight against the Janus Hydra. All of the walls not directly attached to the mountain had collapsed inward, completely covering the inner bailey where it didn’t outright spill into the swamp itself. Apart from the danger of falling debris, it was in the way of their small army, and Felix had places to be.

Stone Shaping.

Massive sections of stone were immediately seized by his Will. Rock flowed, pulling away from soldiers that picked through the rubble and collecting against the sides of the fortress. Even the corpses of the Hydra and its minions dissolved, leaving behind nests of twisted branches like uprooted trees, and a vast collection of broken tents and shattered belongings.With surprisingly little effort, Felix merged the stone all together, forming at first one wall and then two more. Sweat beaded on his brow as Mana poured from his Gates in thick torrents, spending huge amounts of Mana to hold it all at once, while his Intent shaped the thousands of tons of rock into a rough approximation of the fortress it once was; he even rebuilt the front gate, which had been broken since before he’d arrived.

Not gonna add a portcullis? Pit asked.

Do you know how those work?

Pit hummed to himself. Nope.

Me either. Felix grunted and the front wall shifted as a giant double gate formed in the jellied stone. So they get a big door.

Stone Shaping is level 106!

…

Stone Shaping is level 110!

Below, people watched him hovering in the air, surrounded by clouds, as the stone around them solidified into a final shape. Felix was incredibly aware of their emotions, especially the blue ripple of awe that many resonated with, but he blocked them out by cinching his Affinity shut. They were a distraction more than anything, and he had to focus.

The fortress was fixed, at least superficially. There was nothing Felix could do to repair all of the sigaldry that doubtlessly threaded the interior of the broken walls, but he had a solution for that. He’d tackle that in a few minutes.

For a few minutes, he hovered in the air atop a bed of clouds and thought about his Skills.

They’d certainly grown in his fight against the Hydra, and Tiering several into Master had been a huge boost for him, both in terms of stats and capability. Yet the Hydra had given him more than a few levels: it had taught him a lesson. Avet had said it himself, in fact. Felix had to stop waiting for the perfect moment. It would never come, and if he didn't choose to advance now, when he could, he might die in the next confrontation.

His Tenth Pillar was waiting, and so were the other two free Skill evolutions. So during the night, he had spent them. Felix brought up his old notifications.

You Have Evolved Voracious Eye (E) Into Emperor's Vigilance (T)!

Level Has Been Retained!

Emperor's Vigilance (Transcendent), Level 97!

You sit tall upon a throne of the devoured and stare into the endless dark without fear. Before your gaze, your enemies are stripped bare, even those of a higher Temper. No one below Paragon Tier can hide from your sight, and none below the Divine will detect your plundering of their secrets.

You Have Evolved Chthonic Tribute (L) Into Empyrean Embrace (T)!

Level Has Been Retained!

Empyrean Embrace (Transcendent), Level 99!

The shadows of the earth cannot contain you any longer, and the heights of the burning sky beckon to be taken. Consume completely any object or creature you have claimed, gaining greater portions of Mana, Essence, and significance from them. Uses Mana to power conversion. Greater chance of gaining Skills and/or Memories from the target if applicable.

Thankfully there had been no trace of the Link-spanning agony during these evolutions. All they had required was a large amount of his Mana and Essence, but even then it was less than expected. Felix supposed the special nature of his free evolutions was responsible…and the distinct lack of Dissonance when they upgraded. Still, they were excellent evolutions—incredible, really, and both were very close to Tempering now. How will they change once I pick their Master Tier Features?

Already, his Tempered Master Skills were very different from before. Stride of the King now had a domineering feel to its cadence, as if he were conquering wherever he stepped. Void Sanctuary was utterly changed inside of him, weightier and more solid, and containing a steady drum beat that laid underneath all that he did. Magus of the Grand Design had him draw out more of the mysterious Grand Harmony into his workings, which hadn't quite benefited him yet, but made the Skill feel both more ethereal and more potent at the same time. Finally, Astrum Ascendance was strange, but burned with a power he didn't understand. It was the many working as one, according to its Feature, and Felix was only just coming to understand its power.

Sovereign of Flesh, the Song of Absolution, Voracious Eye, Chthonic Tribute, and Adamant Discord were yet to Temper, but he had a feeling their attack on Pax’Vrell would provide him those final levels.

They better. Despite what he’d said to Vess, facing down a Grandmaster priest surrounded by an army of zealots was not something Felix thought he could easily win. It was possible, absolutely, but there were too many points of failure in their plan. They needed more intel or, failing that, a dose of overwhelming power. And after Master Tier, I need to push toward Grandmaster.

It was a daunting task, not only because of the challenge and insight required to press his Skills so high, but because of the next meta-step after his final Pillar. The Tapestry Stage…and forging his Core Manifestation so that it didn’t nearly kill him when he used it.

Felix had meant what he'd said to Vess. He would take care of the Hierei, but they were a stepping stone to bigger targets.

Holier ones.

"Felix!"

The call came from far below, and Felix looked down to see Beef standing amid a swirl of mud in the now-cleared inner belly. Felix flew down, giving him plenty of time to observe his friend. He was easily a foot taller and broader too, now a hulking figure strapped with thick bands of muscle beneath his fur and armor. His horns had darkened and thickened into brutal looking weapons, and his hands and hooves were twice the size they once were. It was like the Minotaur teen had gone through a second puberty.

Even more surprising was the enormous creature standing beside the Minotaur.

"Did you Evolve, Hallow?" he asked, landing lightly in the mud.

"I have," she said, her echoing voice clearly proud. "I am no longer a Homunculus. I am a Graven Aegis."

“What a cool name,” Felix said with a bright grin. The Mana crystals that had once formed her hair and weapons had filled out her Body, which was now taller than Felix by half a foot. Instead of gray, lumpy stone, she was formed of sleeker, faceted crystal that looked much more humanoid than before. Necromantic Mana pulsed through her, lighting up her body with blackened-green energy. “You hit your first Evolution? How?”

Beef beamed proudly. "She Evolved overnight. Something about how you absorbed all the rock in the fortress?"

"Indeed," Hallow said, "I absorbed much of the stone in order to make my Body bigger, but it was brittle and unstable. So with Yintarian's approval, I absorbed the broken Dragon cores in the undercroft."

Felix blinked in surprise. "You absorbed a bunch of Domain cores?"

"Broken ones," she said. "They had little power left other than the material they were formed from, but as you can see, it was what was needed."

"Yeah," Beef said. "Turns out she needs to be killing things and eating their cores, like whole. She just absorbs them. It's wild," he laughed. "Oh! Hallow, show him the thing!"

Hallow gestured and her slender hands and forearms sprouted into a forest of crystalline spikes. "An evolution of my Mana Dart Skill."

Beef stomped on the ground, sending a ripple through the earth. A thick, 12-foot chitin block formed out of the ground. “You’re not selling it right! Watch this, Felix.”

"Razorhail."

The crystalline spikes, each around a foot long, shot off from Hallow’s arms in a cloud of projectiles. They traveled fast and almost soundlessly, only making noise when the first impacted the chitin block. Materials screeched as the crystals tore into the block, nearly punching all the way through the back.

"Whoa." Felix looked at Hallow. "That’s a hell of an improvement.”

Hallow smiled, which was another change. She had a faceted face that could emote now. A face that, to Felix's memory, looked remarkably like a low poly rendering of Beef's mother. "Yes, I'm faster now in addition to being larger and able to withstand a greater measure of punishment. I believe in our assessments I'm equivalent to what one would consider a high Master Tier mortal."

"Oh, Hallow, show him the other thing too," Beef said before he T-posed in the center of the mud. Felix had only a moment to look at him in confusion before Hallow's form melted, latching onto Beef's Body and shifting across his very large frame. Not just as a breastplate, she now formed a crystalline suit of armor that incorporated and reinforced the arcanite pieces Horn had made. It made the already huge Beef look like a literal tank, and as he moved his arms and legs it flowed seamlessly with him.

"Full coverage armor, I love it.”

“My old Switchshift Skill has become Protean Aegis,” Hallow said, eyes and a mouth forming across Beef’s chest. “Not only can I encompass Beef entirely, but I can manipulate my form as I Will.”

Beef’s arm lifted up and a spike of Hallow-crystal speared six feet into the sky.

“Please tell me when you’re gonna do that. I feels weird when you move my Body around,” Beef said as he pulled his arm back down.

“My apologies, Beef. I will be sure to do so in the future.”

Felix flared his Emperor’s Vigilance, and noticed neither of them shivered as it fed him information. The Skill hadn’t lied, his modified Analyze was undetectable. “Beef. You’ve been holding out on me.”

The kid grinned. "I'm Adept! Full-on Tempered!”

“Awesome, man! Congratulations! I mean, I kinda figured what with—” Felix gestured at Beef. “Everything you got going on here.”

“Hah! Yeah, it’s different, huh?” The guy flexed a couple times. “My Body finished during the battle, or right after the battle at least. And! Best part! My Blunt Weapon Mastery evolved and so did Circle of Smash and—"

“Send me the notifications?”

Beef laughed. "Oh right, right, right. Here." Beef flicked his thick fingers and sent a number of stat screens toward Felix.

Your Skill Has Evolved!

Blunt Weapon Mastery (C) Has Evolved Into Deathblow Conduit (T)!

Level Is Retained!

Deathblow Conduit (Transcendent), Level 76!

Your expertise with instruments of death has grown as you’ve faced adversity, harsh training, and an increased flow of entropic might. Now, your strikes now turn any warhammer into a conduit for Necromantic Mana, designed to deliver devastating blows that echo through the Wild Threnody.

Your Skill Has Evolved!

Circle Of Smash (U) Has Evolved Into Crushwave Surge (L)!

Level Is Retained!

Crushwave Surge (Legendary), Level 75!

The very earth bows before your might! Slam the ground and send out a tidal wave of earth Mana to demolish your enemies, disrupting their balance before exploding the ground beneath their feet. Range increases with Skill level. Control increases with Skill level. Explosive power increases greatly with Skill level.

Your Skill Has Evolved!

Relentless Charge (U) Has Evolved Into Ruinous Rampage (L)!

Level Is Retained!

Ruinous Rampage (Legendary), Level 77!

Face your foes with weapons drawn and blood upon your brow, and all will tremble in your wake. Power gathers around you like a comet, dealing double damage to standing structures (natural or mortal made), and your speed doubles so long as your head is down.

Congratulations!

You Have Tempered Your Body!

You Have Formed: Annihilation Body!

+175 WIL

+200 STR

+100 MIG

+175 VIT

+50 END

+50 AGL

Felix whistled, flicking through Beef’s notifications. “Your Body turned out crazy good.”

“Right? I feel like I could take on that Hydra all by myself!”

“Perhaps not quite,” Hallow said from his chest. “But you are certainly mightier than ever.”

“Listen, both of you are incredible. Not only helping to save people, but pushing yourself into an Evolution? Into Adept Tier?” Felix shook his head, a wide grin on his face. “I’m very proud of you both.”

A wash of embarrassment and pride gushed from Beef, and had he been a bit less hairy Felix was positive the kid would be blushing. Hallow, for all that she was a piece of armor, beamed in a very Human way.

"What about Harn’s armor? It still fits?"

"Yeah," Beef said, more than happy to move on. "Those size enchantments you put on them worked perfectly. They stretched with me and don’t feel tight at all."

"Oh good. I was worried about that. You grew more than I anticipated." Beef laughed, embarrassed but clearly pleased. Felix looked around. "What about Archie?"

Hallow’s smile faded. "We have not seen much of him for several hours."

"Yeah," Beef said. "But he’s stronger too. He improved Stoneswim to something called…Tokyo Drift?”

“That can’t be right,” Felix laughed.

“I forget the name, but it's good from what I read. Like really good.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. "Tell me all about it."

706

Darkness gathered around Fortress Fenwald as an army mobilized to leave.

Vess stood at the head of the force, which measured three hundred strong. It was a bit of controlled chaos as the last supplies were loaded up and Dragoons and conscripted soldiers alike all bid farewell to the family they were leaving behind. The refugees would remain, of course, safe within the confines of the repaired fortress. More than a few older boys and girls had tried to sign up to fight, but Vess had ensured they were turned away. War was no place for anyone, let alone children.

Earlier, Felix had discovered that much of the fortress’ sigaldry was still intact despite Tarok’s catastrophic bumbling. He had spent a considerable amount of time refueling the remaining Domain cores, which in turn provided a significant boost to the fortress's power. In fact, it had allowed Vess to use her Authority to enact several of the inherent arrays before giving the villagers access to the basic functions of the inner keep. The locked gates and illusory mazes would serve them well from any wandering monsters.

We will return for you all, she promised.

“Fall in, soldiers!”

Her aunt Verona stood closeby, clad in her Lionsroar Armor and looking every inch a commander. Her uncle was next to her too, and for once he was wearing his armor too, which was also blue and silver but fashioned in the style of the Drakengard, the elite soldiers trained by the Dayne family. Appropriate, considering he had once commanded them.

The companies gathered swiftly into crisp lines, packs strapped tight on their backs and weapons holstered or firmly held braced against the ground. The conscripts and the Dragoons stood in separate lines, but all of them wore the new armor Harn had forged for them, blurring the distinctions between the two forces in Vess’ eyes.

Until she saw Tarok.

Vess frowned. The man had been stripped of his command and his loyal lieutenants, those that survived, were reprimanded. But all of them remained, because their small army could ill afford to lose experienced combatants. Vess had pushed for harsher punishments. The man had unleashed the Janus Hydra by meddling in things he had no reason nor Authority to touch. A piece of her heart yearned for balance, for redress. Her aunt and uncle were no less disturbed by the man’s actions, but they had been the voice of reason. They had told her to stay her hand. For the sake of her father and her people, she had listened.

At least Tarok is directly under Auntie’s command now. She knew her aunt wouldn’t let the man step out of line again. If only I had found some proof to accompany Yintarion’s memories, the man might not have acted out so idiotically.

Vess knew that to be false the moment the thought formed, but it persisted. Tarok was scared and angry, but he was no worse than many among the Dragoons. Perhaps with greater evidence she could have soothed their hurt, but that wasn’t a thought worthy of her time. The man made his choice and he would suffer the consequences.

She regarded the rest of their small army, which varied wildly from the armored Dragoons and conscripted soldiers. A small contingent, but easily the most powerful of them all.

Her friends.

A Minotaur with a hammer bigger than most men, flanked by his crystalline Companion and a Chimera the size of a small Manaship. Beside them, was a deadly warrior with chains wrapped around both shoulders, leaning casually against the enormous bulk of four Eidolon Exults. A sulking thief wrapped in a scarf and cloak tried to stand apart from everyone else, but the warrior-smith with legs that gleamed crimson and silver pulled him closer. A pair of Chanters, robes swirling majestically around them as they laid protective spells atop the assembled soldiers.

And, of course, Felix. He stood talking with her aunt, watched by all, and yet his gaze kept drifting back toward her. His Spirit…Vess blushed. He didn't often lose control of it, but for a moment, it was like he was next to her, holding her. She smiled, and though he wasn't looking at her, Felix smiled too.

"Vessilia, my dear," he aunt said softly.

Vess straightened her shoulders. She considered the glaive in her hands. It was heavier than her partisan had been, but it felt good. Powerful. She struck it against the earth, and the impact rolled away from her like thunder. Everyone’s attention pivoted to her.

"It is time," she said, looking at each group in turn. "In a few moments we shall leave the safety of this fortress and venture back into the lands of my father. Our lands.”

Pride and nervous excitement rose up in the Spirits of the soldiers before her, a strident song that plucked at tense notes in the air.

“Our goal is to reach the walls of Pax’Vrell in two days. That means we will be pushing ourselves to the limit, but it is a sacrifice of blood and sweat so that our Territory can be free once more.” Vess pounded her glaive into the ground once more, and it boomed. “We will free the Dragoons from their foul Oaths and take back our city!”

Oratory is level 85!

The crowd cheered, a release of tension bursting from their Spirits like a geyser in the earth.

“Why should we follow you?” one of Tarok's lieutenants shouted over the din. He was gaunt and pale, but held onto his spear tightly. "You bonded a Dragon! That is against all we have stood for!"

“Watch your mouth, traitor!” said one of the conscripts. “We know what you did in the undercroft! You nearly killed my mother with those monsters!”

Muttering became shouts as the conscripts came to Vess’ defense…and too many Dragoons spoke out against her.

“Quiet!” her aunt ordered, but it fell on deaf ears.

Do something, she told herself. Vess lifted her hands and released her Spirit. The pressure knocked the breath out of every soldier all at once, her aunt and uncle included. Silence reigned, and Vess stepped into the gap.

"Yes,” she said firmly and retracted her Spirit. “I did bond a Dragon. And yes, that is against all the Dragoons have stood for these past long Ages…yet I have learned a new truth that was hidden from all of us. A truth that some have told me I should not share.”

Vess held up her glaive, and the Dragon carved around the blade glinted in the moonlight. “The Dragons were our allies, but they never turned against us. We turned against them. We broke our Oaths.” She shook her head, and smiled. “Yintarion has saved my life many times, and he has proven himself worthy of my trust. But all of these are merely words. If my companions and I have not given you reason enough to trust us too, then there is little I can say now to convince you. My actions will have to suffice."

“As will mine!” Yintarion roared as he descended from the mountain.

Vess pulled in a tight breath as alarmed shouts erupted from the crowd. Several even pulled weapons. “Stand down!” Patrim shouted, and the soldiers froze in indecision as Yinarion landed at the head of the army.

“Yin.” Vess couldn’t quite believe her eyes. “You have finished your Evolution.”

“Indeed.” Her Companion stood tall beside her, now roughly twice the size of an Avum though far longer. He was bulkier around the shoulders, heavy with muscle and on longer and stronger legs. His antlers had grown to match his new size, branching outward like a stag’s but made of what looked like diamond. Scales in shades of red, orange, and purple glittered across his Body, and Yintarion regarded her with eyes that were solid orbs of purple-pink. “I am a Dawn Drake.”

Your Companion Has Completed His Evolution!

First Evolution: Dawn Drake

He Gains:

+500 AGL

+500 DEX

+400 STR

+600 VIT

+1000 WIL

Each Level Gained Adds 100 Free Stats!

New Level Bonuses Have Accrued!

Temper To Master Tier To Access Them Via Draconic Bond!

Yintarion Has Gained Skills!

Arboreal Fury (L), Level 1!

Channeling the fury of ancient groves, you pull upon the deep connections between all living things and call upon the very beasts around you to do your bidding. Tier of beast summoned increases with Skill level. Amount of beasts summoned increases with Skill level.

Prismatic Cyclone (L), Level 1!

A swirling vortex of ethereal winds follows your Will, infused with the breathtaking colors of the dawn. Within the cyclone, light and air dance in a harmonious convergence, mesmerizing all that witness its glory. All within its confines are battered by searing light and brutal winds in addition to being afflicted with Stunned and Blinded Status Conditions.

Luminous Tide (L), Level 1!

With a majestic sweep of a claw, you conjure a celestial tide. The waters are infused with the radiance of the rising sun, cleansing and purifying all in its path. In its wake, it leaves its targets revitalized and restored, their Status Conditions cleansed and their Health, Mana, and Stamina recovering by 10%. Size of tide increases with Skill level. Conditions cleansed improves with Skill level. Percentage Health, Mana, and Stamina restored increases with Skill level.

Umbral Cascade (L), Level 1!

A shroud of darkness pours from your outstretched claws and falls upon your enemies with all the subtlety of sudden night. Targets are engulfed in shadow and afflicted with the Blinded Status Condition, as well as Vitality Drain, which reduces their Health maximums for every heartbeat they remain within the cascade. If they are reduced to zero, the targets perish. Size of cascade increases with Skill level. Speed of Vitality Drain increased with Skill level.

Mind ringing from the sheer potency of Yintarion’s Evolution, Vess mentally chose not to review her Companion’s Skills, and minimized the other notifications that tried to crawl across her vision.

Fear still flared among the people, but it was washed over by confusion as Yin bowed gently to them all. "I am Yintarion of the Cerulean Skies, and I bear with me a burden that cannot be shifted. It is true what my Companion says: she saved me. I was lost, trapped beneath the influence of an evil I cannot describe, and Vessilia Dayne opened the path to my salvation.”

The Drake stood tall, his regal white beard rippling in the wind. “Long ago, I fled from the destruction of my people by those that I had trusted with my very life. The Dragoons betrayed us, and though I still do not know why, it was the start of many terrible Ages.”

The crowed seemed to hold their breath, sharing glances that ranged from nervous to furious. Yin did not give them a moment to speak however.

"My bondmate sacrificed herself for me. Rana Ironscale, Paragon and High Marshall of the Dragoons gave her life for mine. It is a debt that cannot be repaid, yet I must try nonetheless.

We shall free your land and eradicate the Hierei dominating your city, and then, after that I will aid you in becoming what you once were. What we once were."

Yintarion lifted his head. "We Stand Together."

Vess slammed the butt of her glaive into the earth. It cracked like thunder. "And together we rise."

707

A short time later, they were gone.

There was no fanfare, no waving widows or children, just silence as the gates of Fortress Fenwald sealed behind them and their army slipped into the swamp. Traveling under the cloak of night, they moved through the swamp and then the forested foothills of the Rimefangs with hurried steps, descending all the while toward the flat expanse of Pax’Vrell’s farmlands. For Felix, it was the easiest part of their journey, owing to the extensive hunting they had done in the area; there was little they didn’t know about the region directly around the fortress, and almost zero chance of encountering a Hierocratic patrol.

After two hours of steady marching, however, their army pressed into the farmlands of the Eastern Marches.

Here, Felix thought, is where things become difficult.

They walked through the night, muffling their armor with wads of cloth and moving with a steady and unrelenting gait across burnt farmlands. They avoided the ruined town at the edge of the border, opting to move through open fields until they could reach one of the main roads, and from there continued at a mile-eating gait.

The Daynes set a grueling pace, but Felix pressed them harder; he had no interest in wasting any more time. A quarter of the Dragoons and conscripts marched until they hit fifty percent Stamina, then they swapped out with those resting on Pit’s back. Thanks to Harn’s luck and ingenuity, Pit was now wearing a set of specialized barding, heavily modified to fit the Tyrant’s form. Apart from armored plates and padding, it featured multiple saddles and binding points that had, at one point, clearly been intended to allow a Dragon to carry squads of Dragoons upon its back.

The protection it offered was only Master Tier, same as his last set of barding, but it would do for now. Harn had set his enchanted stone into the helmet portion, ensuring that Pit could still activate his Mask at Will. Thankfully, the old Dragon armor had already been inscribed with enchantments that allowed it travel with a Companion when they Converged. Aside from a gaggle of soldiers, he was also carrying the entirety of their food, water, and spare equipment required by any army.

Do I really have to carry all this? Pit asked again. Look at all these tough spear-guys! They’re strong. They can carry stuff!

It’s your task, Pit, Felix reminded him, evenly. There are consequences to being as big as a bus.

Hmm. I am big, this is true. Pit chirped, but his size made it a deep, guttural thing. Fine. I suppose I’m the only one with the sheer power to shoulder an entire army.

Don’t forget how humble you are about it.

Yes, of course.

For his part, Felix marched at the front of the column at all times. He had no need to ride on Pit's back, though no one would have complained if he had. While his friends in the vanguard and rearguard were there to protect the army from any threats, his duties were different. Many of the Dragoons and a few of the conscripts had stealth Skills, they were individual and, at best, Journeyman Tier. To keep them hidden as they crossed the fields and sparse forests of the Eastern Reaches, Felix draped them all in Abyssal Skein, connecting them through his Will and intent until they all but faded into the landscape itself.

Abyssal Skein is level 94!

It was easier to do while marching now, especially since Stride of the King somehow used very little of his conscious mind to operate. Using that experience as a template, Felix found it remarkably simple to maintain the shroud of stealth on everyone while also keeping to their grueling pace. He was outstripped only by Vess and her family. Everyone was eager to end the threats to Pax Vrel, but none more so than the Daynes.

Honestly, Felix was proud of his team as they traveled through the night. They had all grown greatly since their fight in the Vault of Nine Kings. Since his talk with Beef, he’d sought out the others at one time or another.

Evie had pushed a few of her Skills to Master Tier during her fight with the Grim Nightshade, though the rest were far off. She hadn’t yet Tempered a full Aspect, but she was close with her Body.

Harn was also closing in on Master Tier, though it surprised no one so much as the warrior-smith himself. What’s more, he was advancing far more evenly than anyone else thanks to the effect his extensive smithing had on his general Skills, followed closely by his fight against the Rootclones. Based on their conversation, he was between ten and five levels away from full Master Tier.

Felix grinned as he jogged in the dark down rutted country roads, bathed in Void shadow and breathing easy while an army followed at his back. By the time they reached their destination, he was certain that nothing short of the Hierophant herself would be able to stop them from taking the capital back.

They took their first break as dawn split the skies across the Territory. Towns had started to dot the horizon, and now plumes of smoke trailed into the sky where the earliest risers had awakened. Most of those plumes were fresh from the tips of chimneys, but others were old and cold, a dirty smudge that indicated where the locals had chosen resistance over safety.

There was nothing left of those towns.

The ground wasn't all flat farmland and hills abounded throughout the Eastern Reaches, but they were fewer and fewer as they traveled inland toward the capital. The Daynes informed Felix that the way ahead would soon be riddled with towns and well-kept roads, and that the likelihood of encountering the Hierocracy would increase tenfold. Coupled with the soldier’s increasingly beleaguered Stamina, and a few hours of rest and recon would serve them well.

In a narrow valley between a series of forested hills, their army settled down. The closest town was two miles distant, and though it was mostly burned down they lit no fires. Trail rations were all they had to blunt the edge of their hunger, but Pit was packed to the brim with jerky and bread. Before the sun rose above the hills around them, everyone had bedded down quickly. They were planning to rest for no longer than absolutely required.

Felix didn’t really need rest, not from his efforts so far, and even continued to maintain Abyssal Skein. Instead, he had other responsibilities.

He found Archie sitting on a boulder, watching the charred town in the distance from behind the thick underbrush and heavy trees.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Felix said.

Archie didn't look at him. "Beef told you, I assume."

"He did.”

“Figures."

Felix frowned. Something was off about the man. Something about how he was sitting. Faintly, he could hear a harsh chord vibrating around the Delven, like a badly tuned guitar. "What happened?"

"Something stupid," Archie admitted. "I Tempered and evolved my Skill at the same time, but I left my Essence Draughts in my room, so I used one of yours."

Felix's eyebrows tried to climb into his hairline. "How'd that go for you?"

"Not well."

Felix sat down next to him on the boulder. "Want me to take a look?"

Archie rubbed at his chest and sighed. "At my core space, right?"

Felix nodded.

The man grunted. "If it fixes this god-awful heartburn, then yeah. Dive in."

Seconds later, Felix touched down within a vast, perhaps endless city. The skyline was filled with vague skyscrapers hidden by a thick veil of dark smoke and what he first thought was snow. He caught some in his hand and it crumbled into soot.

Ash.

From above, most of the city was undefined, as if Archie hadn’t put much thought into its construction other than general shape. Where Felix landed, however, was extremely detailed down to the mounds of ash that collected between the cobblestones on the road. Around him was wide open market square absolutely filled with people and stalls.

It reminded him of nothing so much as a giant tent city, the winter gray sky covered by expansive canvas awnings while the street was cluttered by countless, complicated wooden structures. Stalls and storefronts, built permanently into the square and fronted by merchants hawking their wares to countless faceless shoppers.

Oh, weird. Felix looked at the people around him. While there were perhaps hundreds if not thousands packed into the market, none of them were more than a set of generic clothes on vaguely humanoid bodies. They literally don’t have faces.

The merchants, however, along with the stalls they manned were highly detailed. Those nearby had various things on display, all of them flashing with the occasional flare of powerful Mana. The faceless mob had money, and they bought items almost mechanically before moving onto the next stall.

"Neat set up,” he said.

Archie emerged from the crowd like a ghost. Felix could barely sense him at all. "Thanks, I guess."

"Why does it look like this, though?"

Archie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If I were to describe a marketplace, even a farmers market or something, it wouldn't be this. There'd be Earth things. This looks like it is a place somewhere on the Continent."

"I don't know. Never really went to farmers markets back home. What, you want this to look like a Krogers?"

Felix snorted. "Alright, fine. Fantasy marketplace. So your Skills are the merchants and their stalls, and the flow of power is the money I see changing hands. Right?"

Archie blinked. "You figured all that out in the last two minutes?"

"Something like that," Felix said.

"Damn. Beef wasn't kidding. So what do you think about them?"

"About what?"

"My Skills. You saw the money. Did you see it moving through the crowds? How it flows?" Archie grinned as he walked next to one of the faceless shoppers and jerked a thumb at a bulging pouch at their waist. "They carry it around, spend it at the next stall, or the next, whatever I need."

"It's really interesting, I'll give you that. Unique even, and I've seen a lot of core spaces."

"Hah!" Archie grinned before cracking his knuckles. "That's nothing. Lemme show you how I activate my Skills."

Archie slipped through the crowds, a ghost among the crowd, and sidled up next to one of his stalls. The vendor, a hawk-eyed man with a lantern jaw and a crooked nose, shouted to everyone that came close, enticing them to buy the collection of magnifying glasses and eyewear on display. When one of the faceless crowd drew close, Archie moved, swiping several pairs of glasses from the racks and pocketing them with ease...which caused the entire stall to glow as if bathed in sudden sunlight. The ash and smog in the air faded, cut through as if by a spotlight or a break in the distant clouds, and the eyewear on the table gleamed.

It soon faded, just as Archie appeared next to Felix again. "So, what'd you think?"

Rolling the events over in his Mind, Felix pieced together the man's process. "You have to steal from your Skills in order to activate them?"

"Yup! Simple as swiping a bit off the rack, and everything flares up. The more I take, the more it pushes, though there's only so much to grab."

"And the money comes in, feeding it more...what happens if you take everything?"

"More stock shows up so long as the money keeps flowing." Archie shrugged. "It's not that literal, but it makes sense to me. If I want this to work, then I gotta make it work, you know? No one gets handed things, not without strings attached, so I take what I need."

Felix kept close guard of his Spirit. He knew Archie had unlocked his Affinity a while back, and the last thing Felix wanted to show was how worried that bit of mentality made him. "Interesting. That’s how it normally functions, right?"

"Since the early days, yeah."

"Then what's got you feeling out of whack?"

"Oh. It's the scars."

Felix had spotted those from up high, but hadn’t given them much thought. In various places among the market were fissures where it seemed reality itself had split. Here the cobblestones, there the front of a building. Cracks in the world as wide as several feet across and up to dozens of feet long. Most interestingly, each of them was filled with an opalescent stone, as if it had been patched over by a magical road crew. "I see them. They weren't there before?"

"No." Archie rubbed at his chest as he had before, like he had terrible heartburn. "They showed up after I Evolved and Tempered my Skill."

"I assume that's the new Skill?" Felix pointed down the street, where the crowd was far more active and, much like the briefly activated Skill from before, the gloom of the ashen sky was somehow pushed back. Where the other Skills around him were bustling market stalls with one or two vendors hawking their wares, this one had five different people holding up elaborate objects that rippled and glowed with light.

"Mhm. It got a lot bigger and more...elaborate, once it evolved."

"What's it called?"

"Primeval Drift." Archie pushed a window at Felix with its official description. "It's nice, right?"

"More than nice.” Felix had gotten a description from Beef but seeing it in front of him sent sparks through his Mind. “This is what I had hoped for from the start."

"You were right," Archie said, folding his arms.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just annoying."

"That I'm right?"

"That you keep doing crazy stuff and it keeps working. Now I'm doing crazy stuff and it's working. I pulled hundreds of people through the walls to save them, you know? I did it fast too. I—I never thought I could." Archie's eyes went distant. "Imagine how fast I could've robbed some of those bastards in Birchstone."

Felix laughed. "That's one way to think of it. How much growth have you seen since the battle?"

"I gained three general levels, not counting all the Skill levels I earned. My Mind and Spirit are still lagging behind, but the Drift helped boost me considerably closer. It just—it feels wrong."

"Wrong how?"

"When I drank your Essence Draught it burned through me, worse than the gnarliest moonshine I've ever thrown back. Then…these cracks split through me when the Skill Evolved. I Tempered Primeval Drift to Adept Tier and the cracks got patched somehow, but since then it's all felt off. Like a piece of me is being pulled out of place."

Felix chewed his lip, thinking. I know that opalescent stone. It's the same stuff that makes up my Divine Tree...and my Void Sanctuary. It was sturdy and powerful, and at first he questioned why it was even in Archie's core space. It's only ever shown up when my Skills brush against the Divine. So why—

A faint pulse in the sky caught his attention. It was hard to see through the drifting ash and smoke, but opposite the dull glare of a winter's sun was another light. A pair of them, little more than pinpricks in the gloom, one red-gold and the other blue-white.

A Link's been established, Felix realized. Just like with Vess and the others.

Now that he had the scent, Felix could almost see the influx of his influence into Archie's core space. A weight of significance was leaking from the sky, falling just like the ash, only thoroughly invisible.

He backed up, looking at the opalescent cracks again. "Huh."

"What?"

"I think—" Felix interrupted himself by leaping into the air. His Will and Alacrity carried him aloft, as good as Ouranic Dominion for uninhibited flight. Once he'd spotted it, he flew back down.

"What was that for?"

"You know how to fly in your core space?" Felix asked.

"Uh, no? I can't fly."

"These places aren't like the real world. You can do just about anything if you've got the Will for it." Felix hovered just above the ground. "Try."

Archie furrowed his brow and stared at his feet. After a few agonizing seconds, he jolted upward six entire inches into the air. "Holy shitballs!"

Felix laughed. "Follow me, man."

He rose back into the sky and Archie followed with several jerky, incredibly awkward ascents, until he was roughly at Felix's same level.

The guy's forehead was streaked with sweat and ash, and he swallowed nervously without looking down. "Okay. Why am I up here?"

"Look back at your new Skill."

Archie did, peering through the fall of ash and smoke to do so. Much like flying, it took a second, but the moment he saw it the guy sucked in a sharp breath. "Goddamn. The cracks aren't random."

"Nope."

From a distance, the opalescent scars made a clear pattern. They formed a rough, nine-pointed star shape once viewed from a specific angle, centered across the much improved market space of Primeval Drift.

"What's the point? Why that shape?"

"Well, I think we're a bit closer now than we were before," Felix explained, briefly outlining the concept of Links. Felix had put a lot of thought into them, both in how they functioned and why they allowed his allies to grow stronger faster.

It was his significance. It flowed through them all, along with a measure of Mana and Essence, influencing them and pushing them beyond barriers they might not have surmounted alone, at least not so fast.

That did mean he was leaking power into his friends, which increased his need for consuming new sources of Mana and Essence. A problem for another day, he supposed.

"So you're boosting my power?" Archie asked at the end. They had both returned to the ground during their conversation. The Delven wasn't so used to it that he could hold a conversation in the sky. "I thought being an Unbound already did that?"

"Being an Unbound means we aren't as limited as natives of the Continent, and that can mean we earn more Skills and Titles faster. This is separate, far as I can tell. In fact, that along with you happening to evolve your Skill just as you were Tempering it allowed you to weather the storm of my Pure Essence Draught. The evolution required energy, and the draught had plenty to spare. Otherwise you would've had a lot more than a few cracks in your foundations."

Archie paled and he stroked his spade-like goatee. "Shit."

"That imbalance you feel is likely also because your Aspects are uneven. You need to push your Mind and Spirit to catch up with your Body."

Archie leaned against the rough, soot-streaked wall of a building. "Beef’s ahead of me now. I'll be honest, that's annoying enough as it is. He's fully Adept right?"

"He is."

"Bah. Guess I'll have to kick my ass into gear, then."

"Good. You remember the plan. We're going to be relying on you in the upcoming assault."

"I—yeah. I remember."

Felix caught a piece of ash from the air and rubbed it between his fingers. Was he imagining things, or did he see a bit of blue in its soot? He cleared his throat. "You down for this? It's not too late to back out and stay with the soldiers."

He didn't want to force things on Archie, but they needed him for their plan to work.

Archie scratched his goatee. "I don't give two shits about those Dragoons, but the conscripts didn't ask for this. I spent...a lot of time talking to them. Every single one lost someone during the attacks, and—" He cleared his throat. "I’m down. If I can help, I will."

"Good man."

708

By noon the next day, the army was passing through the Territory at a rapid pace. Ruined towns passed by in the periphery, far enough away to avoid any unnecessary encounters. With Abyssal Skein activated, the redcloaks were unsuspecting; none spotted them, even in the broad daylight. Their plan to evade detection until they reached the city seemed to be working.

Spring was in full bloom in Pax Vrel, considerably warmer than back in the Rimefang Mountains or even in Nagast. At first the warmth was pleasant, but Felix soon realized that warmth meant the roads were dry and dusty, and the heavy tread of his army kicked up a wake of clouds that could be seen for miles. He split off a piece of his Mind, focusing on capturing the dust in currents of air while moistening them with threads of water. All the while another part of him maintained his grip on his mass-stealth skill, and what was left piloted his Body as he jogged at the forefront of their vanguard.

It was hard and it wore down his mental strength by the hour, but he’d survived worse without complaint. He could manage this.

Storm-shaping is level 85!

Abyssal Skein is level 95!

As the first day turned to dark, there was a burning on the horizon.

Towns were closer now, just as the Danes had said, but they thankfully did not run into anyone on the roads. The Hierocratic occupation was keeping things mostly locked down, it seemed, and that had worked in their favor until now.

"That's Barden," Vess said. "They're burning it."

“Blind gods,” Verona cursed. “Why? These lands have all submitted.”

Felix peered to the west, where their path would lead them close to the town. It was half standing, with walls blown out by weapons or Skills, and the rest on fire. Despite it all, people still crowded the streets, corralled by others in heavy red platemail or white robes. Paladins and Priests have got the people surrounded. Why?

A knot of white robed people stood around a pole that had been erected in the center of the market square, and they were throwing bundles of sticks at its base. Felix clenched his jaw. It looked like they were going to burn someone at the stake.

"Noctis’ tits," Evie swore. "The whole town's on fire. I can... I can see the redcloaks. They're still there."

Vess hefted her glaive. "The people are still alive too, but I see so much blood.”

“Are we stopping this?" Beef asked. "Because I want to stop this.”

"We cannot risk exposing our presence," Tarok said, his gaunt form pushing to the fore.

"Who asked you, boneman?" Evie snapped.

"You have no sway in our decisions," Vess said. "Not anymore."

Tarok ground his teeth together. "I grew up in Barden. I want to stop them more than any of you foreigners. But we cannot make this mistake. If even one redcloak escapes, then our mission is ruined before it’s even begun."

Felix bared his teeth at the flames. Someone in the distance cried out. “Then no one escapes. Right?”

Nods came from all directions, and even the bitter Dragoon gave a reluctant bob of his head. Felix looked to Vess. “This is your Territory. What do you want us to do?”

“I remember Barden, but I’ve not been there in years. Tarok?”

The man swallowed, his sour expression tightening. “How might I help?”

Vess stabbed her glaive into the earth. “Sketch the layout. The rest of you, listen closely.”

The fire crackled in the fair winds of early spring, and Kov'Tel, Beacon of the Pathless, administered last rites upon the condemned.

They were gathered in the town square, once a place of peace and community, now a charnel house where the dead were butchered and Sorcerers were burned. Kov'Tel regretted the dead, but they had resisted in the face of the Light’s Order and were made an example.

"We have come here to lay waste to the wicked impurity of Sorcery," Kov'Tel declared, looking at a crowd held back at sword point. At least four hundred were contained by less than fifty Paladins. They did not have the Strength to rule themselves, so they could only listen. "The accusation has been levied that this woman, Mother Guin, has cursed her community and their very lands to suffer degradation and destruction.”

Kov’Tel spread his arms, gesturing around himself. “Look at what has become of your homes, people of Barden! Look what a single Sorcerer can do when they go unchecked.” Gasps spread through the crowd. “Yes, you heard correctly. I have extracted her confession. Mother Guin has been using fell Sorcery and hiding it behind the benign camouflage of her herbal remedies for decades. Know this: her actions are anathema and unsanctioned by the Pathless. Praise Him that we were here to save you from such a terror."

A pair of Journeyman Tier Priests dragged out an elderly woman, her hands bloody and broken from the confession Kov'Tel had extracted from her flesh.

"Bring her to the stake," he commanded.

She was pulled past the crowd, giving them all one last look at the condemned wretch. Another lesson in what Sorcery cost them all.

"Fire," Kov'Tel said as his Priests brought the hag closer to the stake. "Fire will cleanse the impurity from her Spirit, so that the Pathless’ Light can once again shine through her. Purity gives rise to Strength, and through Strength we bring about Order."

The hag was dragged to the kindling, her body gone slack and requiring one of the Priests to hold her up while the other managed her bindings. Kov’Tel sighed inwardly, but kept his face fixed in a rictus of compassion. They should have simply let her fall to the ground rather than sully their robes. I must devise a fitting punishment for that transgression.

Before he could give that much more thought, however, Mother Guin moved. The Priests leaped back, as if she’d burned them both, before they fell clutching their heads as blood poured from their eyes. A violent, unnatural song blared into the night, like a mantle about her shoulders, and she ran.

“Stop her!” Kov’Tel commanded.

Two Paladins stepped into her path, but she thrust out both broken hands and the warriors dropped to the ground, their armor shaking like struck bells.

Blighted Night! Kov'Tel was forced to move, summoning planes of golden force before him as he went. A cage descended across the Sorcerer’s path, forcing her to pivot—but Kov’Tel gave her no such chance. He appeared behind her with a gauntlet of golden light and struck her in the back of the skull. The hag fell, mewling in confused pain before going silent.

"Tie her back up," he snarled, "and get someone to help them." He jabbed a finger at the Paladins and Priests still lying on the ground, moaning in pain. More Priests rushed forward, quickly grabbing the woman and dragging her to the stake.

Before they could do that, though, another song, a snippet of ethereal music, fouled Kov'Tel's ears. Another Sorcerer, sneered the Beacon.

A young girl ran out of the crowd. "Grandmother!" Spikes of shadow shot from her back directly at the Priests.

Kov'Tel snapped his fingers, and once more barriers of golden light formed, capturing the girl into a cage and cutting off her shadow bolts before they could do more than sizzle against his golden Mana.

"I see we have more Sorcery infecting this town," he said, clucking his tongue. "She is young. Perhaps she can be saved with enough time and cleansing fire."

Someone in the crowd screamed, likely the girl's mother. “It pains me, madam, but if you had truly cared you would never have allowed your daughter to fall in with a Sorcerer. Take the girl away.”

As several Priests drew near, Kov'Tel spoke to them in a low tone. "Gather up the girl's entire family. The chances that they're all tainted is too high."

“As you Will, Beacon.”

The Priest stepped out into the clearing, into the market square, and gestured to Granny, now fully bound to the stake. "This Sorcerer will be cleansed in the golden fires of our protector, and the impurities will be burned away from her Spirit. Like metal in the forge, true transformation requires the flame."

He made a gesture, and golden light congealed into a liquid flame across his clenched fist. Six other Priests did the same as they arranged themselves around the stake's perimeter. As one, they reached out and set the kindling alight.

"Crushwave Surge!"

A ripple of earth Mana tore through them, hurling Priests and Paladins straight up into the air as the ground exploded in a sudden cavalcade of stone and dirt. Kov'Tel turned, panic rising in his breast as his imagination conjured the worst sort of monstrosities that had come to save these foul Sorcerers. Nothing, however, prepared him for the truth.

A Minotaur, armored in crystalline plate mail, strode from the dark. The earth Mana still rippled around his hooves as he swung a hammer bigger than most Paladins. "Put out that flame!" it bellowed.

"Sorcery! Kill it!" Kov'Tel screeched. "Kill the beast!"

Those Paladins that still stood ran forward, their blades igniting with flame, only to be met by a surge of crystalline bolts that tore through their chests. Kov'Tel watched, aghast, as the faithful died in droves before him. The others, only now regaining their feet, cast shielding magics around themselves, as did Kov'Tel. Golden light shimmered across their forms to protect them from the vile darkness.

He did not see the man with the axes.

"Hit him hard!" the man growled. He gleamed in armor that seemed made entirely of silvered blood.

“Don’t know any other way!” Beside him appeared a slender woman, armored in much the same way save for her exposed face. Wide eyes and a bright, savage grin stuck out in the moonlit dark as she swung bladed chains through his Priests.

In less than five heartbeats, it was done.

Bloody corpses sprawled against the upset cobbles, armor sundered and white robes soaking up crimson. Kov'Tel and his six Priests were all that remained, surrounding the still-burning pyre. The hag was still screaming, but then that stopped too.

Kov'Tel looked behind him. The flames were gone, and so was the Sorcerer. He spun, spotting the hag now in the arms of what looked like a Gnome…more than fifty feet away.

"How?" he wondered aloud.

Armored Dragoons landed around him and his Priests, their spears glinting in the firelight as the vile, wretched, traitorous villagers were gathered up.

"Dragoons!" Kov'Tel, hissed. "You are sworn to obey us!"

A woman with dark brown hair and unnatural, golden eyes ringed by a strange luminescent purple, stepped forward. "We fight for the people, not the Pathless.” She leveled the brutal blade of her spear at his throat. “Stand down, Beacon.”

“Never,” Kov’Tel spat. “I would rather die.”

“I’d watch your words. She is not someone you want to bluff.” Another figure strode from the shadows between buildings. From the way these brutal Dragoons reacted, he was important, but the Beacon didn’t recognize him at all.

"You will not survive this, mercenary," he said.

"Why is that?" the man asked.

"The Light reaches all, heretic. The Hierei already knows you attacked us."

"Oh," the man said, his too-bright eyes widening. "You mean you sent people running for the capital the moment we attacked. Is that right?"

Kov'Tel frowned as the man stuck out an arm to the side, grasped onto nothing, and hauled back. Lightning sparked across the square, forcing the Beacon to jolt in surprise as it described a perfect line through the air and into the shadows beyond the buildings that still stood. On the other end, six figures stumbled out of the dark and into the market square. Priests, all of them, they were bound and gagged by opalescent stone bands.

Kov'Tel's eyes bulged, and his heart tried to climb up his throat.

The man smiled. "They didn't make it."

"Monster," the Beacon managed. "Who are you?"

"I'm what you named me," the man said. This time it wasn't a smile at all, but a wolf baring its teeth. All of them were very white, and to Kov'Tel's mounting horror, very, very sharp.

"Now," said the monster in man-flesh. “Tell me about Pax’Vrell.”

709

"That's the last of them," Bellar said, flicking blood from the end of his fullered blade.

No more Dwarves descended the mountain after them, and Imara let her awareness spread outward until it encompassed the bulk of her forces. There had been more than a few deaths among the weaker Inquisitors, but otherwise their strength was unmarred. She also could sense that the cavern to the Low Roads was now sealed shut. “They collapsed the tunnel.”

“Good. That should give us a reprieve from more of these things,” Bellar said, kicking the mound of rock and metal.

Imara found them fascinating. They were constructs, clearly devised by the Dwarves, and were odd for a number of reasons. Unlike Golems, these were bestial and moved on four or more legs at a pace beyond most of her Inquisitors. What’s more, each one was fitted with a recess where a Dwarven warrior sat, strapped down and covered by the construct’s stone and metal hide.

She stomped on the construct, crumbling its side and exposing a sparking cascade of sigaldry. It was colored a deep orange-crimson and smelled metallic. The Dwarven pilot was able to use the glyphs inside the recess to activate Skills through the constructs. A piece of her left leg was still caked in hardened stone from a lava cannon the beast before her had launched. It had been powerful enough to kill several of her Inquisitors outright, and though it hadn’t harmed her in the least, it was a devastating weapon.

"Elemental golems," Bellar said, standing carefully away from Imara and the sparking construct. "Powered by a lesser lava elemental, if I had to take a guess. Their power was nothing to scoff at, but compared to our elite, the Dwarves will need much more than this."

"No matter," Imara said. "They are dead, and we have won the day."

"That is true, Chosen. What does the Pathless desire us to do next?"

Imara stepped away from the construct’s remains, armored feet splashing through small rivulets of lava that poured from its carcass. "The visions he has sent me say we are to descend this mountain and into a swamp. From there, it seems a short distance to find our quarry."

"Perfect. I'll make sure we're all ready. If you'll excuse me, Chosen."

"You are excused, Bellar."

As soon as the man walked away, Imara's facade cracked. The weight of so many deaths, many at her hands, always seemed to claw at her the moment the battle was done. It was all she could do to maintain her normal indifference these past weeks, as the burden strained her Mind.

Pathless, aid me.

Each night she spent under the earth, she had been afflicted with terrible nightmares. Memories. She could no longer call them lies, for they seemed to crawl from the deepest parts of her. They were true. They had to be.

She recalled a place with sunshine and warm water. She was smaller there—not a child, though some of that seemed to drift in and out of her consciousness, but quite literally smaller. She had grown so big when she arrived upon the Continent. How had she forgotten that?

Chosen.

The words shocked Imara out of her reverie. "My Lord, what do you need from me?"

There Is Danger Ahead Of You, But Glory Awaits. Felix Nevarre Is Close.

“Across the swamp?”

Yes. And Through The Mountains. He Is On The Move Toward The Dragon.

"Pax’Vrell.”

The Pathless said nothing, but she felt His warm regard caress her Spirit. For a moment she lost all doubts.

Navarre Dabbles In Bargains Beyond Him. The Others Are A Threat To Our Plans. Kill Felix, And Find The Woman, Vessilia Dayne.

She Is To Be Made An Example Of.

Nearly a day later and hundreds of miles beyond Barden, Felix and his team stood around a stone table beneath a chitin hut. Outside their group, the officers of their small army stood, craning their necks to view the maps spread out before them. The time had come for their final preparations.

Pax’Vrell lay less than ten miles away.

"Let's go over it one more time," Felix said, tapping the map with his ebon claw. "We'll enter here, just before the gates close for the evening. Provided we aren't immediately attacked, we'll head into the city proper and split up here, at the statue of High Marshal Lenia."

"That is correct," Verona said.

"Why’re we splittin’ up again?" Evie asked. "Seems stone stupid to do that in enemy territory."

"Cause the Hierei’s got too many wards in place. You heard the Priest and the Paladin, and that one Inquisitor we found."

"When we draw closer, I'll be able to confirm the veracity of those claims," Laur added. "But Harn is correct. We have heard the same thing from too many Hierocratic officers to believe it to be falsehood."

Felix nodded along. They had stopped at several towns during their journey, each one suffering under the cleansing flame of the Pathless’ zealots. They ended them all, wiping them out to a man, but not before getting information. Details on their forces, on the defenses the Hierei might have put into place, everything and anything that might give them a window into the hornet’s nest they were diving into. With that reconnaissance in hand, they'd formed a plan that they were reasonably certain wouldn't result in the death of thousands.

He chewed his lip. A battle against the Hierei could result in a lot of innocent casualties if it spilled out into the city. If this was going to work, Felix needed to isolate him, and that meant splitting up.

"We have different tasks, too, Evie. Keep those in mind," Felix reminded her. "I'm headed for the Hierei. Verona and Patrum's group is headed to the Seal."

"And I will be rescuing my father," Vess said, her voice accompanied by a sudden Spiritual weight against all of them. It was gone in a second. "My apologies. I am…eager to reach the city."

"We all are, dear," Verona said. Patrum didn’t speak, only reached out and squeezed his niece's shoulder.

"With so many of their troops in the countryside scouring for sorcerers, we know that only a token force still resides in the city. Instead, the Dragoons are our biggest worry," Felix grimaced. "They're Oathbound to kill for the Hierei, so they cannot be trusted."

"I'll hold Abyssal Skein over the group for as long as I can, but I cannot promise it will remain as effective with distance.”

“We'll make our own way, dear. Your help has been astounding thus far," Verona said with a wide smile.

Felix tried to ignore the blush that crept up his face. "Yes. Well, you'll all be at risk once we split. We need to reach the tunnels quickly.”

“Enter the city, find the secret paths, find the Seal, and find the Duke. Those are our tasks," Vess repeated, much more succinctly. Felix gave her a lopsided smile.

"What of the Hierei?" Eagin asked. The four Eidolons were crowded into one corner of the chitin hut, dwarfed only by Beef and Yintarion.

Felix frowned at the map. "Leave him to me."

"Us," the Eidolon reminded him. "We stand with you, Colossus."

Frustration and appreciation warred inside of him, but Felix could only smile. "Us, then."

"The tunnel system beneath the city is expansive, but not all of them reach the citadel," Vess reminded them. "We need to access one of these three. The first is in the Glassworks, the second is in the Vrell Scriptum, the last is in the Wispwind Aviary." With each name, she tapped a different portion of the map.

"Vrel, as in Pax’Vrell?" Beef asked.

"Indeed. An old name for the Territory, before the Dragons fell and peace was founded. ‘Pax’ means ‘end’ in an old tongue," Tzfell offered.

"And what does ‘vrell’ mean?" Archie asked.

“‘Strife.’ Together the territory is ‘strife's end.’ It is the weapon placed atop a mantle when the conflict is done and all of us are too old and gray to fight. It is a lie," Vess said at last, drawing the attention of the officers and soldiers around the tent. "I was raised for battle, as were many of you. It is in our blood, the soil beneath our feet. The war never ended. It merely changed."

Vess swung her glaive up to her shoulder and locked eyes with the small crowd. "The old tongues are tricky. They can be interpreted many ways. Pax’Vrell can also be translated as ‘strife's home.’ We are those that defend the defenseless from monsters. Ours is to be their shield and their unbroken spear.

“I believe it is time we show the Hierocracy what war truly is."

From a few miles out, the first thing they could see of Pax’Vrell was a soaring structure occupying the top of a small mountain, and it looked like nothing so much as the crouching bulk of a Dragon.

"Scalebreaker Citadel," Vess said from Felix's left. "Home of the Dragoons and the Seat of my family."

She sounded almost terrified to see it, and a weeping anxiety was woven through her Spirit that set Felix’s teeth on edge.

The mountain was a lonely peak in relatively flat terrain, incredibly conspicuous as it rose perhaps a thousand feet into the air and dominated the horizon. The city itself was walled like most major cities, though Pax’Vrell’s were truly massive, taller even than the orichalcum Haargate. They topped out at five hundred strides tall, according to Vess, and with a little mental calculation, Felix figured that was a bit over seven hundred feet tall. Even from three miles away and his impressive vision, the walls blocked his view of all but the Citadel itself.

"The walls were designed to repel Dragons," Vess told him. “See the spikes? Forged of mithril and covered in enchantments. Nothing short of a Paragon beast could land on our walls and survive.”

"That won't keep us out," Felix said, and he gripped her hand tightly. She squeezed right back.

"No, it will not.”

At the city's heart, where the mountain rose above even the tall walls, the Scalebreaker Citadel was built of an ore Vess called Wyrmsheart, a material around the same strength as mithril. According to her, its natural patterning was reminiscent of scales, and the way the Citadel glimmered in the light of the setting sun made it truly seem alive. Surrounding it, and the last thing that could be seen above the tall walls, were thirteen towers, each and every one of them designed to look like an upthrust spear.

"The Spears of the First Dragoon," Verona said, coming to stand at Felix's right. "Laying low the Dragon. It is highly symbolic."

Felix grunted. He was more concerned with how tightly Vess clung to his hand as she stared into the dark. It was an intense gaze, as if she could pick out her father's location from sheer Will alone.

"We'll get him," Felix told her.

"We will.” Vess pulled her helmet down over her face, covering her features with a Dragon's snarling visage. “Or the Pathless will answer to me.”

710

Felix was sweating as they approached the gates of Pax’Vrell. A crowd of people waited in line at the massive gates, slowly being waved through by annoyed-looking Dragoons mounted on Avum. They looked the same as any other Dragoon Felix had met: sleek armor covered in draconic designs and a spear secured in their saddles. They were clean and uninjured as opposed to his own army, which was a bit battered around the edges, thanks to days of forced marches across the Territory. The only real difference between them was the sense of putrescent wrongness he could see coiling around the Oathbound Dragoons, and he knew intrinsically that it was their coerced Oath that he was detecting. It stuck out, a tarnished silver cord, twisted around their necks.

He tore his eyes away from it; the Oath just made him angry. He focused instead upon his Abyssal Skein, a cold oil against his skin that he had long since grown used to—and after days of exposure, the army behind him didn’t squirm nearly as much as they had at the start. Felix led the vanguard, approaching the gates at an angle to the main line, and held tight to his Skill. His worries were unfounded, however, as the Dragoons at the gates remained entirely oblivious, their eyes never straying from the trudging line of farmers even as his people came within feet of the nearest Avum.

Felix nearly sagged in relief, but refrained. He’d looked at the Dragoons from a distance with his Emperor’s Vigilance and confirmed their low Temper, but one thing about war that Felix had learned was that nothing was ever certain.

Paladins, Pit warned.

A squad of them was just inside the gates, perhaps no more than ten, and Felix’s hackles rose immediately. Where the Dragoons just lazily waved people in, the Paladins were far more thorough in their inspections.

"Those are mine," one farmer shouted, as a barrel was thrown open, spilling produce into the bed of his wagon. He reached for it, only to be knocked to the ground with a casual backhand.

"All you own is a blessing of the Pathless, so all you own is His, too," the Paladin said, munching on some sort of raw vegetable. He spat it onto the ground. "Bleh! It tastes like shit. Is this poison?"

"What? No, it's from my farm. I'm bringing them to the night market."

"Poison? In the night market? Take him away," the Paladin commanded, and the two others grabbed him by the arms and dragged him off. "A night in the cells will teach him to bring better food next time."

Felix jaw was so tight he worried he’d break a tooth, but it was all that was keeping him immobile. If he let up…Felix shook himself, suppressing his anger. If he let up, there would be ten dead Paladins in short order. Beside him, Vess did much the same, while anger rolled through their army like smoke. None of them could let it blaze. Sneaking was the way through, and Felix refused to let them ruin their advantage.

"Next," the Paladin said, as the farmer's wagon was driven off by another, and the Dragoons waved the next group through.

I could eat them, Pit suggested. He was back in his puppy form and sitting atop Felix's shoulder. Just a little.

Felix smiled and ruffled the Chimera's head. "Forward, first company," he said.

Right as the Paladin stopped another farmer, the first company of Dragoons slipped through the wide gates. Not a single Paladin looked their way, and once the last of them stepped into a side street, Felix gestured for the next.

Abyssal Skein is level 96!

Company after company stole through the unknowing gap between Paladins, Dragoons and conscripts and his own friends. Within a handful of minutes, Felix and Pit were the very last left outside the gates just as the sun dipped beyond the horizon.

"Close it up," ordered the Paladin captain, and some Dragoons began turning the winch wheel. The huge gates creaked as they slowly pivoted.

"But there are still people out there," one of the Dragoons protested, stopping the winch.

"So? You lizard knights keep telling us how safe your lands are.” The Paladin spat onto the ground. "Let them go home or camp out. Either way, they'll be fine for the night."

The Dragoon moved to argue, but another, older man pulled her back. The Paladin captain laughed, sharp and nasty, while his cronies guffawed in his wake.

"That's right, listen to your elders, or else." He clenched his fist, and it glowed with a golden light—answered by golden rings around all of the Dragoons' necks. The warriors didn't cry out, but they tensed in obvious pain, and the young one fell to the ground, clutching at her collar. “Turn. The. Winch.”

Soon, the gates slammed shut, and the Paladin released them all with a disdainful sneer.

Felix and Pit stood just inside, inches from the nearest Dragoon, and his hands shook. I could eat them. Just a little.

No, bad Felix.

This time, Felix's smile was a bearing of his teeth, and all of them were sharp. Still, he walked past the posturing Paladins and down the side street where their army had already split apart. All that waited for him were a pair of cloaked Eidolons and Evie.

"Evie, you're supposed to go with Verona."

"I know. Harn told me to hang back and give you this." She handed him a wrapped package. "He said you'd know what it was for."

Felix gripped it tight, almost feeling the edges cut against his fingers. "I do, yeah. Oh, Evie, one last thing." He told her quickly about the Paladins yanking on the Oaths of the Dragoons. Her eyes widened.

"I didn't know anyone but you could do that."

"Me either," he said. "Be careful, and tell Verona."

“Aye. Go kill that priest and take this worry off our hands.”

Quick as a blink, she vanished around the corner. Felix turned to the two Eidolons, Eagin and Telys, and Pit nuzzled closer onto his shoulder.

"We're running," he said. "Now."

Storm Shaping is level 84!

Abyssal Skein is level 97!

Two minutes and dozens of city blocks later, Felix and his three friends stopped before a building made entirely of metal framed glass. An elegant sign made of brass-like metal hung above an ornate door made in much the same way.

"Wispwind Aviary," Felix read.

"Looks delicate," Telys observed. "My theory may be too un-gentle to enter."

"Just stay under your cloaks. If I can keep your footsteps from alerting the entire city on the run here, I can keep a few windows safe from you too." Felix had spent a not inconsiderable amount of effort muffling the Eidolons' progress through the city, which had amounted to outright carrying them on gusts of wind Mana. "Inside, all of you."

Stepping through the aviary doors was like entering another world. Far warmer than outside, the humidity was ratcheted to levels Felix hadn't felt since leaving Florida. The ground rose and fell around them, forming actual small hills covered in wild grasses and flowers, all of them in full bloom. Magelights hung from the rafters, dim now as if mimicking the sunset. Water pooled between miniature hillocks and trees rose up all around them, filling the expansive glass structure with dappled shadow. The entire place was a riot of color, but none more so than green.

Flitting through all that green were birds. Hundreds of them, thousands perhaps, moving in flocks and as lone creatures, wading through the water or leaping from branch to branch. Inscribed cages hung all over, from branches of trees to metallic brass bars that extended across the aviary. Some were filled with nests and eggs that birds sat upon while others flitted about building and adding twigs and leaves to make their own.

A path wound between all the hills, splitting many times as it wandered the entire aviary. Felix and his friends, still cloaked in Abyssal Skein, walked through carefully. Only a hundred feet in, Felix spotted movement and he gestured for the others to freeze.

A Korvaa was there among the birds, tending to their needs despite the evening hour. They were male and seemed to be a type of hawk, which made Felix pause. Memories of an old friend resurfaced, tugging at a wound he'd thought had long since scarred over. He closed his eyes and took a breath, mastering himself. It only took a moment—his Will could not be denied, even by himself—but it left him feeling…hollow.

"Keep moving," he said, voice rough. "The entrance is supposed to be marked with the ducal Seal." Vess had an amulet of it, and had shown it to Felix before they’d left their final camp. It was burned indelibly in his memory. “Hard to miss. If you see a bunch of squiggles, that’s likely it.”

As they walked, the paths grew narrower and the caretaker seemed to be everywhere somehow. Fixing this, cleaning that. Did he not have to go home? Did he not have to close the aviary? Those questions plagued Felix every time the slender bird-man cut them off to polish some brass post. They did their best to stay out of his way, but it was a constant annoyance.

As they moved, birds fluted their high-pitched songs while others screeched at one another. A few plodded about in sullen silence, staring in Felix’s general direction as if entirely aware of them.

Impossible. None of the birds were higher than Tier II. Their Perception would be extremely limited.

And yet, there was something…

The birdsong wafted through the aviary like a physical force. A wind that buffeted him, by turns gentle and insistent. Sweet musicality met by ugly squawking. Yet there was an entrancing resonance there, contained within the textured flow of it all. It was fleeting and familiar.

"I can't find the entrance," Felix said, frustrated. "Anyone else?"

"No luck here."

"No, Colossus.”

“It is well hidden," Egan rumbled. "We may be required to ask this caretaker."

Vess had said that each passage was guarded by someone at the location. They weren't always obvious, but they were in charge of the entrance and exit of all that used it. Felix licked his lips. Talking risked many things, but it was worse to remain silent.

He dropped Abyssal Skein from the four of them.

"Where did you come from?" the caretaker squawked in alarm. He took several steps backward, looking between Felix and his very large companions. "Who are you?"

Felix bowed. "My apologies, honored Korvaa. I didn’t mean to startle you."

"You, uh, you didn't. I was just... I just wasn't expecting your sudden—It's fine. We are closing, however, and visitors are not allowed on the streets after nightfall. You must hurry back to your homes."

"Wish we could, but that's not in the cards for us." Felix took a step closer and the caretaker stepped back. "I am here to help, I swear by pinion and crest."

That stopped the Korvaa in his tracks, as Felix hoped it might. "An interesting phrase for a Human to utter. Help how, exactly?"

"We need to access the tunnels to the Citadel—"

The caretaker slashed a feathered arm. "No. Perhaps you may kill me, stranger. But I will not betray my charge. You are not allowed."

“We’re trying to—”

“Should I trust honeyed words, stranger? My father swore me into this service, and his father before him. A thousand times, no.”

Felix frowned, annoyed…but mostly impressed by the guy's conviction. “What can I do to prove myself? There must be something.”

“There is nothing. Please.” The Korvaa’s eyes pled with Felix, and his Spirit sang of fear and earnest worry—for them. “You must leave. The Paladins will patrol soon.”

Pit, still in dog form, trilled. It was a surprising sound to come from a Dire Hound, apparently, because the Korvaa’s feathers lifted up like he’d been electrocuted. He opened his beak, perhaps to ask a question, but snapped it shut as the sound of feathers overwhelmed them all.

A flock of birds circled them, first a handful and then dozens.

Hundreds.

“How beautiful,” Eagin muttered.

The creatures were jewel-bright, their feathers glinting in the magelights of the aviary. More and more flew in ever-tightening circles, hundreds expanding to thousands until it seemed like all the birds in the aviary had come. Mana cascaded from their wings like contrails, describing a spiraling arc of shimmering, ever-changing color.

“I have never seen this before,” the caretaker whispered. “How—”

From out of the cyclone, a single pale songbird twice as large as Pit landed before the Dire Hound. The caretaker choked on his words. "The Zephyrfinch…!"

The pale songbird hopped forward once, peering at the Chimera with large, luminescent eyes. It chirruped. Pit chirruped back.

It bowed, and Pit nodded, as if all was right in the world.

The caretaker’s beak hung open for several long seconds. His feathered throat worked, and when sound came out, it was a dry croak. "That is...how did you do that, little fella?"

Pit looked at the Korvaa, tilting his head and letting his ears flop to the side. He barked once, before nuzzling against Felix's leg.

Laying it on a little thick, dude—

"Come in then," the caretaker said, his voice recovered but tight.

Felix blinked. "After all of what you said, that's enough to convince you?"

"I trust her judgment," the caretaker said, gesturing to the Zephyrfinch.

What the heck did you say, Pit?

The Chimera looked up at Felix, and their bond radiated with an incredible smugness.

The caretaker stepped back, and with a wave of his hand, unblocked a hidden passage behind a nearby cage. Suddenly Felix could sense everything, from the ducal Seal above the door to the descending corridor beyond. He frowned. It wasn’t often that things escaped his notice like that, and the effect was a bit dizzying.

"Now come, before someone sees you all."

711

The Daynes lead the largest group of the three, featuring all of the conscripted soldiers and nearly all of the Dragoons. Laur and Tzfell were with them as well, though they stuck by the Daynes' side at Felix's orders. Harn agreed with the tactic; they needed clear leadership, and the Daynes offered that. If push came to shove, the Chanters would be able to keep the Daynes—and the chain of command—alive.

He and Evie brought up the rear, ensuring that no one was following their army as they marched through town. No matter how good Felix's Void Skill was, Harn was relieved that the Glassworks was the closest of the three entrances. He didn't much like marching an army through the open.

Ain't got much choice, do we? Harn shook his head. Blind gods, but it's a strange life we live now.

"Took you long enough," Harn said as Evie fell into step beside him. "You give Felix the package?"

"I did." The girl paused and Harn knew what she wanted to say. "What is it?"

He grunted. "Focus on the mission, Frost King. Look, we're here."

The Glassworks was before them, and it was entirely unremarkable. A simple brick building among near identical buildings, it had the dubious distinction of being marred by streaks of soot from the roof all the way to the ground.

"Looks burnt," she said. "Smells burnt weird too."

Harn sniffed. "Alchemy. Likely part of their process. C'mon."

They both entered the Glassworks behind the others, finding a wide open workshop at least two hundred strides long and half that wide. The walls were brick but entirely covered in elaborate shelving, featuring innumerable metal parts and pieces. The ceiling was high, adorned with wooden beams as thick as a man was tall, and faint magelights shone down from among them.

Dozens of workbenches filled the floor, each made of wood and metal that was exquistely carved with dragons in flight. Tools were arrayed meticulously across nearly all of them, but a few had been swiped clean, and the strange implements were scattered across the dark brown floorboards.

In the very center was the master craftsman's workbench, much like Harn's own Forge. It was covered in tools and materials, each placed into a specific spot. A number of antique hourglasses, some with intricately carved frames and others with delicate filigree, sat upon a shelf over the top of the workbench.

"Oh, this ain't just a glassmakers," Evie said. "What're all these twisty metal things?"

"Springs," Harn said, picking one up. It was thick and it resisted slightly when he squeezed it, before popping back into place once he let up. He pointed to a giant barrel in the far side of the room, marked with the sigils for 'sand.' "This is to make hourglasses."

Aside from the soldiers drifting through the aisles, Harn didn't spot a single worker, guard, or redcloak. That was a surprise, but a welcome one.

Harn lifted a machined gear from a worktable and inspected the tool marks on its edges. "Flat file was used to shape this, and they're refining it til they're smooth as silk." He ran his eyes over the tools around him. "Fascinatin' work."

"What sorta Skills do you need to make all this?" Evie wondered aloud.

"Dunno. Gotta be Rare at least, though." Harn turned over a metal pin as thick as his finger. "Possibly Legendary."

"Precision is required for their craft," Patrim said a measure of pride. "Their Skills are hard to learn without exceptional baseline Dexterity and Heat Resistance. It may not seem it now, but these places are a furnace when the furnaces are running."

"You know a lot," Harn said. "Did you craft before takin' a throne?"

"A barony is no throne, but yes. I was apprenticed here, in fact, when my father ruled. No where near as talented as you are, warrior-smith, but I enjoyed it." The pride in his voice curdled, and Evie fought to keep her nose from wrinkling. "Sa'Vrell even had its own glassworks before the Priests tore it down along with half my city."

"Husband, we have the way open!"

Patrim perked up. "What say we pay the bastards back, eh?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Harn grunted.

The door to the Vrell Scriptum slid open on well oiled hinges, adding an ineffable harmony to the tide of silence contained within. Aisle upon aisle of tomes and scrolls filled the wide chamber, segmenting varnished wooden floors into discrete pathways around alcoves filled with wooden podiums. At those podiums, scholars sat, painstakingly copying illustrated tomes onto empty sheets of thick vellum.

Still wrapped in Felix's Abyssal Skein, they slipped past them all. The scribes were incredibly intent upon their business and didn't so much as glance up.

Vess led them through the aisles, followed closely by Yintarion, Beef, Archie, and a contingent of Dragoons. They were all volunteers, those who wanted to save the Duke and felt comfortable with the dragon-bonded warrior leading them. To Vess, it was a surprisingly large group.

As they walked, memories resurfaced as the smell of glue, paper, and ink filtered through Vess' senses. She recalled running through these halls as a child when she was learning governance, history, and everything else required of an heir to the ducal seat.

"Is this a library?" Beef asked. He struggled down the aisles, his wide shoulders and thick crystalline Hallow armor making it difficult to avoid knocking over podiums and tomes.

"No. And yes," Vessilia answered. "The Scriptum was originally meant to accumulate knowledge for the nobility as a way of gathering influence…but my mother changed its purpose. Now it is where we disseminate knowledge as best we can. The scholars are copying books that we procure and those books are made freely available to my people.”

“Doesn’t the Heirocracy frown on that?” Hallow asked. “I recall something of the sort in Ahkestria.”

“They do. My father has had to fight tooth and nail against the Hierocracy's edicts to keep it in place.”

"So you're just telling people all about Skills and Titles?" Archie asked.

"No," Vess admitted. "Those are unfortunately too dangerous to just hand out. My opinion on that has changed a bit in light of—"

"Felix," Archie completed for her. Vess nodded.

"Yes, since Felix. But here at the Vrell Scriptum, we copy down what I would consider foundational information: mathematics, geography, and history. All useful tools for the citizens of Pax’Vrell. My mother was once proud to call our city the most well-educated in all the Continent, even including the mage-city of Levantier.”

"A proud tradition," Yin said with a sage-like nod. His new body was huge, but he maneuvered through the aisles with a serpentine grace that Beef clearly envied. "We can use them later."

Vess patted her Companion on his neck. His scales were warm to the touch and very smooth. "Perhaps. For now, we need to find the tunnel entrance and the—"

“I see it,” Archie said, pointing. “There, at the back of that bookshelf.”

Vess peered ahead, and she too could just barely make out the lines of her House Seal. “Dragoons. On me.”

"Oh, wait! Is that a secret bookshelf door?" Beef asked excitedly. "That's so cool!"

Vess strode forward, running her hands over the shelving as she followed the mark of her House Seal. "This is definitely it," she said. She reached up, drawing on old memories as she grasped a book and pulled it backwards. A sharp click sounded behind the bookshelf, but nothing opened. She turned again, pulling slightly harder. The bookshelf was solid as a mountain.

"It's locked," she said, somewhat deflated.

"Beware," Yin warned. “Company.”

An old man wearing the robes of a Scriptum scholar came down the aisle, humming to himself. In short order, he sat down on a podium nearby and opened a thick book before pulling out quills, vellum, and inks from a pack at his side. Vess could tell that he was clearly planning on being there a while, intent on copying down the tome. It was also obvious he couldn't see them, but he was decidedly in the way of their progress—Vess blinked. She recognized him.

"I need to drop Abyssal Scheme," Vess announced. "Bring everyone close."

"Why?" Archie asked. "We can just knock the old man out and slip away."

"No. I know him. He's the entrance guardian for the Scriptum, and he can open this far faster than we will be able to if I can convince him. But I can't talk to him if he can't perceive me."

"You trust him?" Yin asked. Vess nodded, so the Drake shrugged. "Then let us not waste time."

Dropping stealth was less about deactivating a Skill—it wasn't hers, first of all—but more like denying its influence. Felix's power acted on connection and consent, at least this working did. The moment Vess denied it access, Abyssal Skein dropped from all of them.

Immediately the scholar’s head snapped up, but Vess was at his side and her hand clasped over his mouth. He jerked, trying to dislodge her grip, but he was no match for her Strength. "Calm yourself, Uldred. I mean you no harm. Do you recognize me?"

The scholar nodded, his rhuemy eyes wide.

"If I release you, you must remain silent. Do you agree?"

Another nod, and Vess stepped back from the old man.

"Ve–Vessilia Dayne? You are alive?"

"I am. And I have come back to save my city."

The man worked his jaw, unintelligible sounds flowing from his throat. "Uh, I—my dear—save us—No, you cannot contend with the Hierei or his forces. They've bound the Dragoons. You—"

"They have imprisoned my father," Vess said, quiet but fierce enough that the old man went pale. "I will tolerate them no longer."

"Vessilia, you mustn't—"

"Uldred, I know you haven't seen me since I was still in braids, but I am no longer that little girl. I have grown...and I bring allies."

The Dragoons came into his sight, along with Beef, Hallow, Archie, and Yintarion. "Rebel Dragoons, and...A Dawn Drake..." Uldred whispered in terrified awe. "What have you done?"

"The right thing. Now, it is your turn. Show us the way into the hidden tunnels."

The scholar licked his lips, eyes flicking between everyone until finally he straightened himself. "Very well, Lady Dayne. Let it not be said that Uldred Anders Latvere shrank away from his duty."

The scholar stepped to the bookshelf, pulling a series of books in a particular order. Six sharp metallic sounds rang through the wooden facade before it split apart. Wood and stone rearranged itself like a spinning puzzle, pieces flowing nearly silently before they resolved into a tall archway. Beyond, a well-lit tunnel extended down into the earth.

"Beef, Archie, lead the way," Vess ordered, and the two quickly led the Dragoons into the tunnel. Vess turned back to the scholar and gripped his hands. "Thank you, Uldred. My family is in your debt."

"No, Lady Dayne I—I am sorry that we failed your family," he said, and tears fell down his wrinkled cheeks.

Vess smiled. "There is no failure where there is still hope. Keep your head down tonight. The next few hours will be eventful."

"Good luck, Vessilia."

She slipped through, her steps lighter as she moved onward toward the Citadel.

Toward death, one way or another.

The moment the bookshelf rearranged itself, Uldred clutched at his chest. From the moment he had recognized the Dayne heir, there was a ringing in his ears that drove him to distraction. It had only grown as the young woman had told him of her plans. Now, after he’d assisted her into the tunnels, it burned through his core like a fire poker.

Uldred had little time, and less choice.

He pulled out a green stone shaped like a coiled Dragon. "Attention, my Lord. I must report an intruder in the city..."

Coerced or not, he had an Oath to fulfill.

Forgive me, Lady Dayne, for I do not wish to die.

712

Evie caught a Paladin in the throat with two throwing daggers, severing their spine and dropping them instantly. The second and third Paladin died messier, but just as silently when Harn's burning axes met their crimson armor.

They didn’t stand a chance.

You Have Killed A Paladin Of The Pathless (x3)!

XP Earned!

"All clear," Evie said.

"All clear," Harn echoed. "Lady Verona?"

She raised a fist. "Companies, forward."

Dragoons and conscripts marched at her order, proceeding through the narrow tunnels in careful lines, melee weapons drawn and eyes open. The tunnels were once well maintained, but seemed to have begun flooding in places during the past few months. They trudged through shallow pools and across slick stone, never impeded so much as inconvenienced.

The tunnels were labyrinthine as well as narrow, with enough twists and turns to keep Evie confused for glasses. Verona and Patrim knew the way, at least, which meant the trip was taking far less time than it could have; each fork in the road was navigated instantly, the older Daynes marching onward without hesitation. Their aim, they said, was the upper levels of the Citadel. Too low and they’d hit the barracks which housed only the Drakengard—the duke’s personal guard—and too far out and they’d hit one of the thirteen towers, where the Dragoons resided. Both were off limits for their team.

Instead, they were aiming for the heart of the palatial structure, where the finest rooms meant for visiting dignitaries had been commandeered by Paladins and Priests. That had been confirmed more than once during their reconnaissance.

"Why were those Paladins down here?” Evie asked as they walked. Her chains were stowed due to being utterly impractical to use in the tunnels. She toyed with her bandolier of blades instead. “I thought this was a secret way in?"

Patrim nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "Not as secret as I hoped. It is clear they are aware of the tunnels, but judging by how few redcloaks we’ve encountered, I do not believe they know their full extent. However, we must assume that any exit we take will have someone guarding it.”

“Hm, suppose that’s alright. Saves me the trouble of huntin’ them down, at least.”

The older man looked at Evie appraisingly. “A girl after my own heart.”

"Look sharp," Harn said. "This is it."

They’d ascended a set of wide stairs, the risers carved with swooping lines and starbursts, until it opened up onto a triangular landing large enough to hold more than twice their considerable numbers. A door was set there, carved to look like a set of huge, upsettingly detailed stone hands. They were clasped together and shut without gaps between the fingers, and Verona approached its structure.

“Be ready, all of you. Lord Nevarre's Skill still holds strong, but subtlety will not avail us forever. We know what is beyond this gate," she said, addressing everyone.

"The enemy," Patrim growled.

"Yes. All who face us will do so at the behest of the Pathless. End them with brutal efficiency."

"I like the way this lady talks," Evie said.

"We come out swingin'," Harn agreed. "Fast and hard. Got it?"

The Dragoons behind him nodded along, several that Evie recognized from the forge. All of them felt eager and angry. There'd be no issues convincing them to go all out. Evie gripped her chains.

Verona released a pulse of Mana, activating the sigaldry and it was as if the hands had come alive. The fingers unclasped and pulled away into the walls, revealing a marble chamber...and five startled Priests.

Harn took one in the knees, just as Evie ran past him, chains punching through a startled skull before whipping after the others.

All of them were dead before their initial shouts stopped echoing.

Harn walked to the bedchamber's lone door and peered out. "Two more in the hall," he muttered. "How long til Felix drops Abyssal Skein for everyone?"

"He promised us a full hour," Patrim said.

"So another half glass." Evie slung her chains back across her shoulders, unperturbed by the blood that oozed down her arcanite armor. "Let's make use of it."

Spears met sword and shield, allowing the Paladins a few more seconds of life, but no more. Phantom, illusory speartips surprised them time and again, allowing for a second true Spear to find its home in the gaps of their crimson armor. Vess pulled her Spears free, four Paladins dead at once, and witnessed her Dragoons wreaking near-silent havoc on the patrol they’d found.

Her team’s stealth was gone, unable to be recast due to Felix's absence, but they more than made up for it through training and the deceptive nature of their footwork. The Dragoons were agile hunters, and in the inner halls of the Citadel, the Paladins and Priests were easy prey.

Another Paladin died, head torn off by an ice-block hammer. "It's clear. They're all dead," Beef said, though he looked a bit pale.

Vess put her hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, y-yeah. I just," he swallowed. "I just don't remember the Paladins being so weak."

"Weak?" Archie asked through heaving breaths. "I can barely keep up."

"Rise to Adept then, Mr. Ross," Hallow intoned from Beef's chest. "You will find things far better this side of it."

"Yeah yeah."

"At any rate, the challenge will change from here on out," Vess said, addressing them as well as the Dragoons at the back. She thrust her glaive toward the mithril-chased door at the end of the ornate hall. "All our foes are likely to be fellow Dragoons. They are our enemies until we can remove their Oaths…but if we are to take back our Territory, then we need their aid. We are only to disable them, not kill them. Is that understood?"

The Dragoons all saluted, their faces hard and weapons ready. Beef did some sort of strange gesture with his flattened hand against his forehead, and Archie...well, Archie just shrugged.

“Seems stupid to keep the enemies alive, even if they might help later. We should just cut our way to the top, and worry about the rest later.”

“No,” Vess told him, her voice hard. “If you kill someone Archie, I do not care what Felix needs you for: I will carve the price out of your flesh.”

The thief threw up his hands. “Jesus! Fine. You don’t gotta be mean about it.”

Beef shoved him with a hip, jostling the Delven’s entire body. "We're just playing on hard mode, Arch! Nut up, casul!"

Archie straightened his padded leather jacket. "Do you know the difference between a bull and a steer, kid?"

"No?"

Archie unsheathed his daggers. "You want to?"

"Archie. Door," Vess commanded. Their banter was amusing at times, but now it was a burr at the back of her attention.

Archie muttered a few more things but he walked up to the door and phased his hands right through the lock and back out. "Unlocked. Two Dragoons sitting at a table, playing dice. The bigger one's cheating."

"You saw that through the door?" a younger Dragoon asked.

Archie grinned. "I'm just good, man."

Vess held up a hand. "Squad one. Breach."

A Dragoon kicked open the door, and a squad of ten flowed into the room. There was the brief sound of struggling, a howl of wind and the clash of metal, but it was followed by silence.

“All clear, my Lady!”

Vess entered the chamber first, Beef and Yinarion behind her, and found a semi-circular room that clearly acted as some sort of common area. Rugs, tables, chairs, even a bar counter and bookshelves decorated the space, though all of it was in disarray. The swirl of wind Mana still roiled through the air, and the tang of discharged Skills was sharp in her nose. The two Dragoons Archie had sensed were on the floor, bound, gagged, and unconscious.

That same young Dragoon walked over and picked up a set of dice. He hefted them in his hand. "Huh. They're weighted." He looked at Archie. "You were right."

"Damn straight." The thief grinned a moment before it froze on his face. "We've got company coming, though. Central door, at least five."

"I got 'em, this time," Beef said, as he lowered his stance. Hammer in hand, he waited twenty strides from the door. "Arch, tell me when they're close."

"Not yet," he said, eyes closed. "Not yet."

Vess frowned. "Beef, what are you—"

"Now!"

"Ruinous Rampage!" the Minotaur bellowed, and quite simply vanished. He reappeared as a calamitous comet, bashing through the door and its frame before barreling into half a dozen Dragoons.

They were thrown, their bodies limp like a child's doll as they crashed into walls and the nearby staircase. None of them stood back up. Panic gripping her heart, Vess activated Analyze.

All alive. She closed her eyes, then frowned. A twisting melody caught the edge of her Affinity, and she looked at the bodies again. There was an…aura around them, hazy at the edges except where it interacted with their chests, and where it drifted off into the distance. Their Oaths? Are you seeing this Yin?

I am not, but I can hear the strangeness to their cores. Their Oath lies heavy on them.

Beef, ignorant of her worries, lifted his head, his horns gleaming with blackened-green Mana and his snout stretched into a brilliant grin. "Done!"

Yintarion laughed, pleased. "I like this boy."

Her soldiers pounced on the downed Dragoons and bound them as well. They might not remain unconscious for long, but the bindings would keep them mostly immobilized even if they used their Skills. Felix had made them himself out of his improved Fiendstone, and the opalescent material was more than strong enough to hold anyone below Master Tier. She'd tested that herself.

"You're dad's at the top of this place, right?" Beef asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Vess looked up, wishing she could see through the floors of stone and metal between them. "He is."

"Do the stairs go all the way up? Can't we just bum rush all the way there?"

"We would be left trapped at the top of the tower, with enemies filling every floor beneath us."

"So? Then we'll just beat them on the way down. And if we can't, we just jump off."

"They're thousands of strides above the ground," one Dragoon protested. "I apologize for interrupting, but...you may survive, Lord Beef, but we would not."

"Oh. Right."

"I can carry some, but certainly not all of you," Yintarion added. "And to exit this tower in such a way would certainly gain the Hierei's attention, and that would be deadly. We must instead walk the harder path, and hope that the Autarch is swift at meting out justice."

“In the interim, we must rise to our own challenges,” Vess said. She gestured up the steps. “Scouts. Advance.”

713

“Oh no, the Duke’s final order was to seal up all entrances to the tunnels…unless a member of his House wished for access,” the caretaker, Devaal, said as he led Felix through the bowels of Pax’Vrell.

Felix frowned, more than a little annoyed. He could have avoided all that if he'd had Verona or Patrim come with him. It was pointless to worry about now, though, as his group sped through the darkened tunnels. Instead, he found time to worry about Vess and her team dropping Abyssal Skein. It had happened a while ago, and now he was certain she was fighting—he felt the violence like a faint, visceral rumble through their Link.

He considered recasting it on Vess, Beef, and the rest—but what stopped him was that he wasn’t positive he could at such a range, and he wasn’t certain why it was dropped in the first place. He could think of several reasons why, and it could even cause more harm than good even if he recast it successfully. Instead, Felix simply chose to trust her judgment.

Likewise, Evie and Harn were cutting through the mid levels of the Citadel. They still had Abyssal Skein active though, and Felix was happy it functioned at such a distance. It was, he knew, primarily because he was using his Linked friends as anchor points and drawing on their connections to spread the Skill.

Abyssal Skein is level 98!

Such a cool Skill.

I like my Gloaming Shroud better, Pit said from his shoulder. At least it doesn’t feel like pouring cold soup on my feathers.

“This is your destination,” Devaal said after some time. He gestured to a ladder that descended from the tunnel’s ceiling. “This will lead you to the secondary kitchens in the Citadel. It has never been used much, and I doubt the Hierocracy even knows about them.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Felix asked.

“They are a part of the servant’s quarters. Few look twice at us,” the Korvaa said.

Felix reached out and clasped the man’s hand. “I appreciate the help, Devaal. I wish you open skies and clear weather.”

“A curious fellow, to know the words of my people. You’ve had friends among us in the past?”

Felix swallowed. “I did, yeah.”

“I wish you well, stranger, and your odd Golems too.” For Pit, the caretaker crouched before him and bowed his head. "You are entering a dangerous place. Take care of your friend."

"I will," Felix said.

"I was speaking to the Honored Tenku.” Devaal straighted, his eyes creased with amusement before bowing once more and walking away.

Felix watched him go until he turned a corner. "Huh. Nice guy."

"How'd he know I’m a tenku?" Pit wondered.

Felix started climbing. "Might've been when you created a bird-tornado in his office."

"Oh."

“Just a guess. Hop in, we’ve gotta climb.” With a flash of light, Felix welcomed Pit into his Spirit, and recast Abyssal Skein on all of them. “Can you two climb this ladder?”

“A simple task,” Telys confirmed.

Felix climbed swiftly to the top, where the ladder ended at a round hatch sealed by sigaldry. He focused on it, but his Magus of the Grand Design wasn’t an autotranslator. He didn’t have enough base knowledge to tell what the thing did…but Felix did spot where it was weakest. Focusing his Will there, he engaged his Hunger.

Empyrean Embrace!

The sigaldry, Mana and even the bits of stone and metal around it, ripped from the circular door and into Felix, where his Hunger devoured it. Less than ten seconds after his arrival, Felix reached up and engaged the latch.

It opened easily.

Swiftly, Felix climbed out and into a pantry, just as Devaal had said. Pit hopped out of his Spirit just as the two Eidolons clambered up next to them. Eagin closed the hatch, removing even the slight ambient illumination from the tunnels below.

“Magelights are out here,” Felix noted. “Watch your step.”

None of them were hindered by the dark, but the words of caution felt warranted. A thrill of fear ran through Felix as he crept out of the pantry and into an empty series of kitchens. Through empty sculleries and cold hearths, they walked until they'd meandered into an undecorated hallway connected to dozens of other chambers behind plain wooden doors.

"Servant passages," Eagin said. "Good. These should connect to many places in the palace."

"How do we tell which is the right door?" Pit asked.

"Look for the fancy ones," Felix guessed. He doubted the place would allow plain, if sturdy doors lead into the really high ranking spaces. "C'mon."

He jogged through the halls, his feet carrying him faster than Earth folks could manage at a full sprint. His Perception trailed across every intersection and chamber they passed. What surprised Felix more than the sheer space involved was that there was no one around. Not a single soul.

It was unnerving.

In fact, it wasn't until they had reached the first ornate door that he perceived movement beyond their group.

"Hold on," he muttered. The Eidolons slowed their heavy tread, and Felix placed his hand against the blue and white door. He could sense a knot of people outside, most of them simply standing guard in the hallway, and one or two talking. He focused on their words.

"How long, d'ya think?" one said. His voice was lighter. Younger maybe.

"How long for what?" Another voice, slightly more gruff.

"Til we leave this place."

"Leave? Why would you wanna do that? We're stayin' in the palace, Jev. You wanna trade that for some barracks in Calumb?"

"No, I'm not sayin' that. Just that the Priests are doin'...whatever it is they're doin', down at that altar. Once they're done, they're gonna want to find other places, right?"

"Listen, best stay outta Priest business. We go where the higher ups want us to go. Just enjoy it while you can, Jev."

"I suppose."

Altar? Felix leaned away from the door before motioning to his friends to back up.

"What's up?" Pit asked.

"How many enemies are beyond the portal, Colossus?" Telys asked, cracking her knuckles.

"Fifteen, I think. But," Felix's thoughts tangled on the words he'd overheard. "I need to ask them questions. Leave some alive."

"Aye, my Lord. Your Will be done."

"Sure."

Felix turned back to the door and reached a hand out. "Ready?"

Abyssal Skein!

His Void Skill spread outward and into the hallway, clinging tentatively to the Paladins just beyond. Someone shouted, no doubt feeling the oily chill, and Felix drew on his connection to their bastard patron. His rage burned bright, forging wrist thick lines of Intent between him and the Paladins, and their shouts vanished into the Void.

"Let's go," he said, and flicked his wrist. With a flash of lightning, Felix hurled the door from its hinges, bashing it directly into a pair of Paladins.

Pit ran through the opening first, his tiny Hound body gleaming with storm magic as spears of ice shot from him. Paladins fell, their bodies jerked side to side as the spears burst into electrical storms, only to be stomped on by the incredible tread of two furious Eidolons.

Before Felix even stepped into the hallway, their enemies were dead. Save for two.

"What are the Priests doing here?" he asked them.

"It's--it's you!"

"Answer the question."

"Don't, Jav! He'll kill us anyway." The one Paladin stared daggers at Felix. His helmet had been knocked off completely and his forehead was covered in blood. "The Fiend doesn't leave survivors."

Felix frowned. "I used to...until it bit me in the ass. If I can take your Oath that you won't, I'll bind you and leave you here, locked up, until I'm finished."

"Don't trust him! Jav---!"

A gag made of opalescent Fiendstone flashed into existence around the man's mouth, turning his screams into muffled nonsense. Jav, a younger man with dark hair and two scars across his left eye, stared between Felix and his friend in terror.

"One last chance, then," Felix said, and he held up his black-scaled hand. His claws glinted wickedly in the magelight. "What are the Priests doing, Jav?"

You Have Defeated A Dragoon Spearman Initiate (x13)!

XP Earned!

Archie yelped in surprise as the ground lifted beneath him like the ocean. All around, Dragoons fell as the stone rippled through his permeable form. “I didn’t need any help!”

“You’re too slow!” Beef shouted back over the din of battle. “More are coming!”

Archie surfaced, stepping onto solid ground for the first time in several minutes. His Mana was depleting fast, but Primeval Drift was far more efficient than Stoneswim ever was—he could handle more, so long as he didn’t run out of Mana Potions.

Led by Vess and her Drake, they had climbed the Spear Tower and took down each and every group they’d come across. Dragoons littered the tower below them, unconscious and bound up in those manacles Felix had made for them. Honestly, there weren’t as many as Archie had expected, even as more charged down out of some nearby chamber.

“Down!”

Archie threw himself flat to the ground as Yintarion whipped through the air above his head, charging bodily into the spears of the oncoming Dragoons. He moved like water, untouchable and unstoppable. The Dragoons were supposed to be specialists at fighting draconic monsters, but none of them could keep up with the Dawn Drake.

"Pathetic!" Yintarion swept his tail, bashing Tribulation Spears out of the air. "None of you have faced a true Dragon!"

The Drake vanished from Archie's view, and all of the approaching Dragoons were down on the ground. Their own soldiers rushed forward, clamping them in what manacles they had left. They’d gotten to the point of securing two Dragoons with a single binding to at least somewhat hinder them later.

Hurry up Felix. We could use a few broken Oaths right now.

A silvered Spear shot for his head, and Archie leaped into the wall. He flowed up to the next level, where the stairs led higher into a large, hollow space filled with stairs covered in metal cages. Even up there, the Oathbound Dragoons fought Vess and her people. Archie kept to the floor, spreading his attention as best he could in the chaos of battle. He slipped in and out of the fray, applying his talents where they’d serve best.

“Gah!” one of the younger Dragoons cried out, getting his spear batted out of his hand by the Oathbound. “Snap out of it, Poul! It’s me!”

“I know it, Sem!” The older Dragoon stabbed down into Sem’s leg, but the armor there turned his blade. His voice didn’t match his Body’s convictions, because he sounded tortured. “But you should’ve stayed away! Rebel Dragoons are to be killed on sight!”

Archie shot up from the ground, riding the momentum of Prieval Drift. He reversed his daggers and activated Fanblade, spinning the pommel of his molten daggers like a whirling bludgeon. He brought it up against Poul’s head as he rose, and against his right elbow as he fell back down. The man cried out, dropping his spear as something cracked inside him, and Archie gave a savage kick.

Poul fell to the ground, hissing in pain.

Where Sem brought the haft of his spear against his head.

You Have Defeated Poul, Skylancer Dragoon!

XP Earned!

“Th–thank you,” Sem said. “I couldn’t—”

“I know.” Archie flipped his daggers back around. “It’s hard to fight friends.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Archie spotted the gleam of a complex array formation. It hung across the hollow center of the tower like a net, but it vanished when he moved his head too much. Beyond it, however, were dozens of small, cube-like structures complete with heavy orichalcum bound doors.

"Vess! I see the cells!" he called out.

"Go! I got these dummies!" Beef said, climbing the stairs to their level. He turned and stomped a single hoof into the stone floor. "Crushwave Surge!"

Dragoons were thrown in all directions as the stone staircase rippled and burst.

Vess wasted no time in sweeping the legs out from under her opponents and leaping into the sky. At the apex of her jump, she manifested spectral wings and shot off, followed closely by Yintarion.

“Hey! You need me!” Archie shouted, flowing up the wall before launching himself onto Yintarion’s back. He hit chest first, knocking the wind out of himself but grabbing a fistful of white mane. The wind tore at him as he held on, trying and failing to get his stubby leg up over the Drake’s haunches. “Can you slow down?”

He looked up and saw they were flying faster than he’d thought. The array formation was hurtling toward them like an imminent car crash. "Um! What are we doing?"

"Passing through! Yin!"

The Drake opened his mouth and shot a river of brilliant golden light into the sky. It ripped into the array, blasting it to pieces that scattered in the winds of their furious passage.

Yin twisted as he flew, spiraling his long serpentine Body like a corkscrew before turning upright and landing with a graceful thump on a ledge. Barely hanging on, that was enough to dislodge Archie, who dropped onto his feet a few bare inches from the edge.

“What the hell, man!” Archie stepped back from the edge, only to find more edge everywhere. The platform they’d landed on was narrow, serving just as a sort of landing outside the cubical cell. “Oh.”

Before them was a gate formed of white stone and covered in a filigree net of orichalcum. Vess stood before it, hands pressed onto its latch and pulling with all her might.

“It will not budge,” she said, before pulling her glaive free. “Archie. Can you get through this?”

“That’s orichalcum,” he said, swallowing nervously. “I’ve never been able to press through it.” He met Vess’ desperate gaze and firmed his jaw. “I can try.”

Soft heart, he berated himself as he pressed his hands to the white stone. Gonna get you in trouble one of these days…

Primeval Drift!

714

Felix trapped the two surviving Paladins in a room of his own making, five foot by five foot composed entirely of opalescent Fiendstone. He bound their hands too, just to be safe, though neither had much of a chance of escaping. But they would live, just as Felix had promised.

"So the Priests are doing what to an altar?" Pit asked.

"I'm not sure I understand either, Pit.” Jav had said the Priests were defacing an altar in order to empower their god. “I have to assume it's a Shrine, and considering where we are, I would have to assume it's a Shrine to Siva."

"Why Siva?" Pit asked.

"Because of Vess. She said her family worshiped Siva in secret, while publicly worshiping the Pathless. Seems right up that douchebag's alley to take out a hidden Shrine in an area he’d claimed."

Felix wasn’t too upset about the Pathless messing with another god. He certainly had no love for Siva, and the feeling was mutual. He’d gotten the impression that the Pathless was hurt in their last interaction through his Vessel—through Gabby. Not by much, maybe, but he’d put a dent in the bastard’s power over his sister. Yet if the Pathless could absorb the power of another god like Felix could snack on his enemies, how much stronger would he become?

“We need to stop them,” he said. “Jav over there didn’t give us much, but we know the altar is below us.”

“And the Hierei is above us,” Eagin said.

“Right. Shit. I need to end those Oaths before things go sideways for us.” Felix ran his scaled hands through his hair. “Maybe I can use my illusion magic to send a double down—no, that won’t work. I can’t interact much through it. Or—”

“Or,” Pit interrupted, “you let me go and check it out.”

"Pit.”

“Don’t ‘Pit’ me,” the Chimera scoffed with a doggy bark. “You don’t need me to fight a Grandmaster Priest. You know that. Let me do this.”

"No, you—”

“Don't you dare say you're worried about me," Pit warned, the fur on his back bristling.

Felix held up his hands. "I'm not, but I want Eagin and Telys to go with you."

Egan rumbled discontentedly. "Colossus, what of the Hierei?”

“I know what I'm getting into there. What we don't know is what's going on in this altar. He could need you more than I will."

Pit huffed an offended breath, but Eagin hummed in thought. "Very well, Colossus. We know that you are strong and you wish triumph over our enemies. Lord Pit, lead on."

“Abyssal Skein us, if you please,” Pit asked, blinking big gold eyes up at him.

“Thought you said your Shroud was better?”

“What? When did that happen?” Pit coughed. “Sides, they need it too.”

Felix channeled his power through his hands and across the rock solid connections between him and his friends. They all shivered, even the Eidolons, and their edges started to smoke as if bleeding away into their surroundings. "You be careful, all three of you."

"We shall return victorious, Colossus."

"You know me," Pit said. "I'll take him down."

He held his emotions silent, clutching tightly at his Spirit as he watched Pit and the Eidolons speed down the hall toward a distant staircase. Pit had earned this trust, but worry rode shotgun in his heart. Felix closed his eyes and took a single, fortifying breath.

Time to find the Hierei.

The clock was ticking.

Archie only managed to slip partway through the wall before it violently rejected him. Something buzzed against his senses, pushing back against his Body as if he'd run into another wall within the white stone. A current ripped through him, blasting him backward out of the stone surface.

Into the open air.

“Thief!”

Archie had a moment of utter freefall before talons caught the back of his jacket and jerked him to a merciful stop. He looked up into a pink and purple eye that considered him from above a jagged frown. "What happened?" the Drake demanded.

"I can't get through. It's not the rock. There’s something else in there and it’s keeping me out."

Yinterion growled, not at Archie, but at the prison cell itself. Vess lifted her spear, but Yinterion was faster. He set Archie onto the landing and slammed into the wall in the same fluid motion. His claws sank into the white stone and he pulled down like a cat marking a piece of furniture it loathed entirely. The stone around the gate shredded, parting beneath the Drake’s Strength like wood to an axe. Chips of white stone fell to the ground before they were joined by larger chunks that shattered under Yin’s onslaught, until he tore a hole to the left side of the orichalcum-bound gate…and exposed a framework of tight orichalcum bars buried just beneath.

“Of course it’s more of that stupid metal,” Archie grumbled. Orichalcum was beyond his Skill, even after its evolution.

Beyond the bars was a man, bound by chains of mithril and wearing an elaborate collar that encased his neck and shoulders. His beard had grown wild, and his hair was poorly groomed, but the cell was clean. He had sat up from his bed, clearly staring at where they had been ripping through the wall, and his eyes locked on Vess.

"Vessilia?"

"Papa, I'm here.” The fearless warrior woman clung to the orichalcum bars. “Archie, I need your help!”

She stepped back and set her glaive’s blade against a gap in the bars before applying leverage with all of her Strength. Her glaive trembled and slowly began to flex…while the bars remained unharmed. Arcanite was an alloy of orichalcum and mithril, but it clearly didn't hold a candle to the original. Her blade skittered across the smooth surface, losing what little purchase she’d had.

"Archie, please!"

At a loss of what to do, Archie grabbed her spear and pushing his Primeval Drift through the weapon. He'd done it before with his own weapons, clothes, and other people, which is what normally allowed him to shift his entire body through the elements. The arcanite conducted his Mana easily—far more easily than anything else he'd touched before—but it still couldn’t pass through the red-gold bars.

Vess’ Spirit trembled, packed tight with intense emotions that swirled in a mixture that Archie found heady to simply stand near. Her emotions swept across his senses, infusing them, drowning them even, as her father watched them all with bated breath.

God damn it. Why won’t this work?

Archie focused, pressing his Skill as he had in the swamp when he’d learned to shift through algae. As he had when he’d pulled all those people to safety in Fenwald. He gritted his teeth and hurled all of his thoughts into one command: Modulate!

"Modulate," he muttered furiously to himself. "Modulate the control! I can't move through this, but I can... I can get there. Come on!"

The spear in his hands shook, flexing again as Vess’ Strength flared…before vibrating rapidly in place. Sparks shot outward from the tip of the glaive like an arc welder—right where the blade met the bars. Archie’s breath caught in his throat.

The bars deformed.

Scalebreaker Citadel spread out around him in all its glory. It was rich and expensive looking—a good deal more than Elderthrone—but it was almost austere when compared to places like Ahkestria or Hinterlord Red Shield’s palace. Its one concession to ostentation were the many elaborate mosaics depicting heroic Dragoons in what Felix assumed were important historical battles.

It was big and sweeping and a distraction. Felix put it out of his Mind, same with his worries for Pit and the Eidolons. He flared his Agility and ran, keeping the Void close as he slipped through the halls like a ghost, unseen and unheard.

Abyssal Skein is level 99!

Felix’s claws were out and ready to end any Paladin or Priest that came his way...but the further he traveled the less he saw of anyone. No servants. No messengers. None of the many moving pieces of a functional head of state.

It was as quiet as the grave.

Skein of Fate.

Despite their similar naming schemes, his stealth Skill and this one had very little in common...save perhaps the manner in which they altered Perception. Abyssal Skein faded his targets into or perhaps out of the world itself. Skein of Fate, however, drew the threads of Oaths into the visible spectrum. He could see them now, pulsating all around him, like a spider's web of incredible complexity.

Skein of Fate is level 82!

One of the Oath lines was thicker than the rest, a rope compared to thread, and the Skill told him what he already surmised: it would lead him to the Hierei.

He followed it, turning here and there as the route grew more labyrinthine than before. When the thread lead him to a wide antechamber filled with Priests, he slowed to a stop and ducked behind the wall. Stealth Skill or no, he couldn’t underestimate his enemy.

Beside him, the thread abruptly thickened, joined by silver lines reaching up from each Priest in the room, until it resembled nothing so much as a ship's mast plunging through a set of tall double doors.

I could pull them open at a distance and rush them. The Priests couldn't stop me, but then I'd have them at my back. He grimaced at the thought. He didn’t know the capabilities of Priests as well as Paladins and Inquisitors, and he’d rather not be surprised.

He leaned over again, watching the Priests mill about somewhat aimlessly. What are they supposed to be doing? Guarding the door? If so, they were bad at it. Most were chatting in small groups, and others were settled into plush chairs and reading. Their white robes were pristine and almost glowed against the polished floors and intricately carved statues. Every one of them looked young and athletic, and his Emperor's Vigilance put them all at the Adept Tier. I could—

"Autarch Felix Nevarre. Be welcome here, in this house of Order."

The voice boomed through the antechamber, ripping open the double doors and hurling the Priests' vestments into disarray. They were quick to recover, however, as all of them hurriedly formed into a double line across the antechamber. A gauntlet of fluttering white robes leading to open doors and the darkness beyond.

Felix licked his lips. Did the Hierei really sense him? Even through Abyssal Skein? Did that mean his friends were in danger? No matter the answer to any of those questions, there was only one solution.

He stepped out and dropped Abyssal Skein from himself.

Several Priests sucked in a startled breath; it was clear they hadn't spotted him previously. Felix walked forward as nonchalantly as he could. He was head and shoulders taller than the majority of them, but putting them behind his back made his skin crawl as he approached the dark rectangle beyond the antechamber.

Up close it was much less dark, as beams of slanted moonlight filled the chamber with what looked like pools of silver. Those bounced off the polished floors and onto a number of fluted columns holding a tall, vaulted ceiling replete with even more windows. Yet the columns, patterned stone flooring, and soaring windows made of colored glass and brass fittings were all secondary to the raised dais and the simple wooden chair upon it.

There was a man seated on the ducal throne.

He was bald, rounded, and nearly as wide as Beef, yet no less imposing for it. The man filled up the space with more than his physical presence, and his pristine white robes practically shone in the moonlight.

“Hierei Tal, I presume,” Felix said into the silence.

The bald man smiled and inclined his head. A bow of peers. Yet that was minor compared to what truly dominated Felix’s attention: the priest was surrounded by the most complicated knot of Oaths he’d ever seen. It was blinding, the silver so bright and twisted that it was impossible to tell where it ended or began. Felix was told a long time ago that each Oath you carry was a weight on your Spirit, and that someone could only hold so many before it affected your core space.

By Felix’s estimation, the man before him should have fallen over, his Aspects ruptured by the sheer weight of his Oaths. Yet he sat tall on the throne, his back straight and an easy smile upon his lips.

"Welcome, Felix Nevarre. I am pleased you decided to pay a visit."

"A quick one," Felix said. "I don't plan to stay for dinner."

Emperor's Vigilance!

Name: Mivun Tal, Hierei of Levantier and the Ghreldan Hills

Race: Human

Level: 1143

HP: 50631/50631

SP: 66488/66488

MP: 91224/98143

Lore: Head of the Priests of the Pathless, Mivun Tal is a devout man and a former warrior of great renown. Devoted to Order, he is one of the Hierophant's original companions and is considered her closest ally.

Strength: High Strength, high Willpower, Blessings of the Light

Weakness: More Data Required

"Oh?” Mivun laughed outright. “Bold of you, to Analyze me so blatantly. Some might consider that a challenge."

"High Grandmaster Mivun Tal," Felix said aloud. "I imagine you're used to bullying people with your Temper."

"We all have our place, Nevarre. From the lowest worm to the highest god. All that I have is due to the Light. It is Order incarnate." Mivun leaned back, revealing a thick neck beneath his round head. Tendons corded across his throat. "Chaos holds reign over this world. Order must be instilled."

"By you, of course."

"Who else but servants of Order itself?"

Felix narrowed his eyes, contemplating. If he cut the silver thread that floated near him, he could eradicate a significant portion of the Hierei's Oaths...but not all of them. He had no clue which ones were connected to the Dragoons. I have to get closer.

"Is that what this is? The zealots of the Pathless, come to inflict their beliefs on others, whether they like it or not?"

"What is life, but asserting your convictions upon the world? We are all walking our own path, are we not? It is the Light's purpose, our duty, to bring the Pathless' Tenets to the Continent. Strength, Purity, and above all—"

"Order, yeah. You said." Felix stepped forward, slowly. "I don't really care for your boss or his teachings. Far as I'm concerned, you're ghouls ripping out the hearts of normal people, just trying to live normal lives."

"Without the Pathless, the Continent would descend back into savage butchery once again." The man's smile faded. "They would turn into you."

Eat Him.

Working on it. Felix took another step, refusing to rise to the bait. "What's the point of taking over Pax'Vrell? Aren’t they already part of the Hierocracy? And don't give me that shit about rebellion.”

"Surprising. All our reports claim you to be a muscle-bound fool. Talented at battle, yet limited in the Mind. I will have to update our assessment."

"How kind of you."

"Pax'Vrell was to be punished, that much is true. But the Hierophant's designs are beyond mere mortals, for she sees the patterns behind the world." There was a fervent, almost feverish gleam in the Hierei's eyes. "To save this world, Pax'Vrell is a necessary sacrifice."

Felix took another step. They were separated by only fifty feet now, but it could have been miles. If the Priest fled before Felix could reach him... "Sacrifice?"

"Ah but you're a curious creature. Insatiable. However, I fear I do not have time to answer all of your questions." Mivun chuckled. "Oh dear, I believe I lied to you. I am not afraid at all."

From the moonlit pools emerged figures clad in sleek white armor, their forms materializing out of thin air.

Where the hell—? Felix hadn't spotted them at all. Each of them bore a bracer inscribed with glaring crimson sigils that sent small aches through his eyes. Profane Sigaldry?

The same script developed by the Archon.

"Do you think that your arrival in my Territory would go unnoticed? That you could slip into my city without reprisal?" The Hierei stood, revealing a height that rivaled Felix's own. "We are ready for you and your rebel army, Unbound. The Light has revealed all.”

Eight members of the High Guard stepped out of the moonlight, their armor now glowing with lines of golden light. A complex, multi-layered array formed across their chest and limbs before trailing off their backs like cloaks of gold.

“Your allies.” Mivun spoke slowly, as if savoring the words. “Are already dead.”

715

The rebel army swept through the middle halls of the Citadel like a cleansing wave. Though Felix’s Abyssal Skein had faded, that did not stop them now. Priests and Paladins emerged from adjoining chambers and were instantly mowed down by spear, chain, or axe.

“Cut them off!” Patrim commanded, jabbing his swords at a distant clutch of Paladins. Before the army could attack, however, they took off.

“Got ‘em!” Evie shouted, already hurling herself in a spinning twist above the army. She landed lightly upon bloodstained carpets and shot off again, her mass shifted into her leading chain as it whipped her forward at blinding speeds.

The redcloaks stood no chance.

She landed among them as they reached a wide four-way intersection, and her chain reaped them without mercy. By the time the others caught up, she’d already stowed her chains.

“Don’t got runnin’ ahead, kid,” Harn snapped as he came to a strangely fluid stop. “Too many twists an’ turns in this place. You’re not so strong that you can’t die.”

You Have Gained A Level!

You Are Now Level 82!

"Dunno about that. Besides, this feels damn good," Evie said, flexing her hands. System energy poured through her core space and invigorated her after their bloody march. "Any more?"

"As many as you can handle, heretic."

Evie spun, along with half the army, just in time to witness dozens of Paladins and Priests appear out of thin air. Their arms glowed with some spooky bad magic that hurt her eyes, but it was clear they’d done something to sneak up on all of them like this.

“Bleedin’ ash,” Evie swore, unspooling her chains. “Where’d in damnation did you come from?”

As one, every single Paladin shouted, and a set of translucent golden armor made entirely of Mana crackled over their bodies. Together, they unsheathed massive swords made of gleaming light.

“Form up!” Verona boomed, her voice blasting tapestries off the walls. “Forward spears!”

Before the Dragoons could move, the Priests lifted their hands. Sigils ignited the air and then cascaded onto the ground in a tidal wave of fire.

The last orichalcum bar dropped, separated from its others by her sparking glaive. A hole was left behind, small but large enough for egress. They’d done it. “Archie, you beautiful man.”

“It worked?” the thief looked blearily at the prison cell and blinked rapidly. “God, my guts feel like they’ve been through a blender.”

“Sit. Rest,” she said, before focusing on the man beyond the cage. “Papa. Let me help you.”

Her father stepped through with less trouble than she feared, though that was only because he was far thinner than she ever remembered. It was his collar that was most troublesome, but they managed.

"I cannot believe it is you," her father whispered as he emerged. He wasted no time in embracing her, and Vess couldn’t help the tears that burned behind her eyes. Then he went tense. "Dragon..."

"Be calm, papa. He is our ally." Vess pushed her father to arm’s length.

"Our ally?" he looked at her with confusion and disbelief beneath his wild hair and beard. "That cannot be true."

“Believe it,” Yin growled. “New days are coming.”

The emaciated man opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, but was cut off by a familiar shout.

"Gah! We've got company!" Beef hollered.

Vess looked over the edge of the prison platform just in time to see dozens of Oathbound Dragoons sweep up the two staircases, their spears flashing with potent Skills. Beef threw up a wall of chitin, blunting their first attacks but not stopping them.

Chaos ensued.

We swept through nearly every room in this tower. Where did they come from? "We don't have time to argue, papa."

Her father grimaced. “No, we do not. Run Vessilia. I will not let them capture you as well.”

“Running solves nothing. We face them, together.”

A song kickstarted in her father's Spirit. It rose on a glissando of notes, filled with hope...and pride. “You’re more like your mother every day. Very well. Together.”

Pit was lost.

“Where are we going, Lord Pit?” Telys asked as she thudded behind him.

“These corridors are all so complicated!” Pit spun, then chose a hall leading in the general direction he needed. “This way!”

Pit ran and the Eidolons followed just as quickly—only to be brought up short.

What the—?

Emerging out of nowhere, at least twenty Paladins lifted burning swords toward him…and more emerged from adjoining chambers, weapons raised. Golden shields of solid Mana formed across their bodies, filling the halls with a gleaming illumination.

"Stand down, monsters, or be slain by the righteous."

"Dead?" Felix laughed as the High Guard approached him. Across his core space, his Links sang. "You don't know my friends that well, do you?"

"Oh good," Pit said, relief flooding him. "I need directions."

"...What?"

Mantle of the Stormlord!

Riposte already in his mouth, Pit shot forward as it grew. Blade and lightning smashed into the Paladins an instant before the Eidolons punched them all in the face.

Solid surfaces of golden Mana shattered into a thousand pieces.

Chains of the Protector is level 94!

The fire crashed into Evie's oversized shield, heating it up molten red, but the wave of Mana split around the army and into the walls, setting them aflame. None of that touched the soldiers either, instead sparking against the rainbow sheen of Laur's wards.

"Potent," the Elf Chanter muttered.

"Potent?" she mocked, before grinning. "My turn!"

Her shield exploded, turning into countless chains that ripped outward and tangled among the limbs of the golden-armored Paladins. They shouted, many slashing at her chains with their crystalline blades.

"Fire!" Patrim shouted.

Conscripts all launched their Skills, firing a salvo of stone and water at the redcloaks. The chained Paladins endured it—the Skills were too weak to be anything more than an annoyance.

"Forward, Dragoons!" Verona commanded as she leaped forward, followed by every single Dragoon with them. "Spear of Tribulation!"

The vaulted ceiling darkened with the manifestation of hundreds of silver and gold Spears...before they came crashing down upon the Hierocratic line.

You Have Killed A Paladin Of The Pathless (x3)!

XP Earned!

“Magnetic Strike!” Tzfell called out, her musical voice now thunderous. A series of geometric shapes burst from her, each a distinct color, shape, and pitch as they hurtled toward the enemy. With a hiss they smashed into the Paladins, searing themselves into their gleaming Mana armor. Immediately, the Skills shot off by the conscripts were turned, redirected mid-air to slam into the geometric targets.

Paladin armor cracked, and the battle was joined.

Swords met flesh, dropping soldiers by the dozen, but not before Spears and Skills shattered golden Mana armor in a thousand places. Evie smashed through those weakened plates, wrapping up crimson-armored limbs in her chains before they chewed through metal and flesh and bone. They fell, their magic armor flickering and failing, only to be pounced upon by hundreds of soaring Spears.

You Have Killed A Paladin Of The Pathless (x5)!

XP Earned!

Evie swept through them, leaping over the golden knights and into the ranks of the white-robed Priests. They oriented on her quickly, but her chain swept across their golden shields with enough power to bowl them over. Evie landed in a clear space among the enemy, and her power surged.

Grim Fervor is level 97!

A Crisis of Faith Is In Effect!

Reduce Willpower Of All Enemies In Range By 20% (Max 50)

Harrowing Thews Is In Effect!

Increases Your Strength By 1% Per Enemy In Range (Max 50)

Shields splintered beneath her whirling chains, their blades scoring deep furrows that dribbled liquid light onto the carpeting floor. Whips of fire manifested in the Priest’s hands and clashed against her own.

“Really? Is that all the Priests of the Pathless can conjure?” Evie hurled her blue-gray chain into the air and poured her Mana into it. “Breaking Wheel!”

Her chain connected to itself and went rigid, forming a massive wheel in the air above the enemy…before crashing down with a catastrophic boom.

You Have Killed A Priest Of The Pathless (x13)!

XP Earned!

Breaking Wheel is level 81!

Reap the Maelstrom is level 94!

“Begone from us, wretch!”

Before Evie could dodge, a hand the size of her torso slammed into her, hurling her back into the spears of her allies. She twisted in mid-air, altering her mass and hurling her chain back into the stone floor where it pierced the ground like an anchor. Evie landed, blood running from her mouth and ribs sore, just in time to see a High Adept Paladin replete with massive golden Mana armor race across the battlefield.

“Pathless’ balls, but you’re big!” She danced aside, dodging the Paladin’s oversized mitts. She tucked and bent, just narrowly avoiding the three-stride wide sword of golden light that came after. Instead it hewed through her allies, and Laur’s wards only partially blunted the blow. Dragoons and conscripts alike went flying.

“Do invoke Him in vain, Fiend follower!” the gargantuan warrior cried, slamming his weapon down again. He missed her, but not because of any fancy dodging—but because his sword was caught.

“Speak no ill of the Colossus,” Orun rumbled, his cloak thrown off his shoulders by the impact. His two stone hands gripped the Paladin’s mighty sword and twisted. “Or I will have to seek redress.”

“Your leader is an impure heretic, Golem!”

At his last word, the Paladin within the huge suit of Mana armor released another Skill, igniting a second blade in his off-hand—which was promptly caught by a second Eidolon.

"You are not enough," Iiana intoned.

"So die!" Orun roared.

As one, the two Eidolons thrust a jab into the Paladin’s faux chest and utterly shattered the golden plates of Mana inward, spearing through platemail and flesh in a shower of crimson mist.

Already the fight is engaged, her Dragoons against the Oathbound. Beef was trying his best to keep each of them shielded from one another. His chitin was not enough. Blood was already spilled, and the song of battle was begun.

She leaped from Yin’s back, ignoring her father’s protests, and soared the remaining hundred strides to the tower floor. It cannot end this way.

She would not let it.

"Draconic Stormfall!"

She hit the earth hard, glaive shattering the stone flooring and sending a chaotic explosion of lightning and air Mana in all directions. Oathbound were hurled back, their armor charred and teeth rattled.

"Enough!" she cried out. "We do not seek your end! But I will finish this fight!"

"A Dragon!"

"...Dawn Drake..."

"Anathema..."

"You invaded this tower. You took the Duke from his cell," an older Dragoon said, pushing to the fore. "Daughter or not, that is a death sentence. Our Oaths offer no quarter or mercy."

"I know," Vess said, lifting her glaive. "Then let it just be us. Champion against champion."

"A duel?" The grizzled veteran stroked his chin, and the ghost of a smile crawled across his face. "Aye. We can arrange that."