Comet’s steps through the middle tier of Laurienna were not slow enough to constitute a sulk, nor loud enough for a stride. He walked with his scarlet head hung down. His neck wasn’t tired, no, his neck was fine, thanks, mother, let me go now, mother.

He just preferred not to look people in the eye any more. Not at this time of night. Not even slaves.

Asteria had been… not always pleasant, these last few years. The city hid its darker smiles these days, as if bribed into protecting the innocence of the child-king (long may he live), but Comet was younger once, and he remembered how he loved the spectacle of the old royalty. Hektore’s failed coup had hit him like a pot banged over his head, and he still flinched at the sound.

At least the mason blood on the unfinished temple was nothing but a fading memory.

Comet walked, walked, stopped, looked. He looked left. Some pygmies slept on the street where they were tied, huddled up against each other. He looked right. There was a shop between the string-maker’s workstation and Parallax’s sandal store.

There wasn’t usually a shop between the string-maker’s workstation and Parallax’s sandal store.

Comet crept up to the counter of the shop, which was littered with small flakes and strings of a brightly coloured material that touch confirmed was not leaf, but thinner and drier. A tiny flame lit the store, trapped in a cylinder of that festive material, one that Comet could swear was watching him. The proprietor, if that she was, was slumped over the counter, still holding the wineskin that had drained itself into a puddle under her cheek and all over her floor. She wore a small conical hat made of the same substance.

Comet stared at her. Not in the way he usually stared at girls, no. Not primarily, anyway. He stared at her because she had six arms.

“H… hello?”

Snores. The lantern wriggled. Comet backed off. He tapped the sleeping… creature on the wrist.

“Hello?”

Like a kinked rope uncoiling from an unfavourable bend, the spooky lady uncurled slightly from her own arms, showing off her face. Comet watched as two bundles of sharp sticks and a big bundle of sharp teeth pointed themselves at him. Chopstick Eyes settled her head back on the counter between her arms, still wearing a big grin and a big blush, and worked her mouth, unable to suppress her smile.

“H-h… hi.”

Comet stared. Chopstick giggled and hiccuped.

“Are you… alright?”

Chopstick squealed and slid backwards off the counter, her chair falling on top of her with a crash. A very silly laugh followed her head up as she rested it on the counter by the chin, apparently kneeling, the rest of her body still somewhere on the floor.

“I’m daA~aAandy,” said Chopstick Eyes. “I’m fuck… ...ing... maniacal. I’m eggs… sell...” Her sticks swivelled around and found the wineskin, and she heaved herself onto the counter, lay down on it and shook the last few drips into her mouth. She let the skin flop out of her fingers with a curious fascination.

Comet was about to leave when she rolled her head towards him and said, “Hi.”

“...”

She waved.

Comet scratched the back of his neck. “Do you… want some water?”

Chopstick stared at this, the dumbest question ever asked, then burst out laughing again. “Oh you’re funny! You’re really, really funny… HhA hHa hhh~ huhuhuhuh…” She propped her drooping head on the back of her wrist. “You’re really pretty. What’s your naaaaaaaaaAAAAAaaaaame~?”

“I- Oh. Oh. I’m Comet.” Comet looked to one side. He’d heard that before, and said it, but never in quite the same… way.

Chopstick’s mouth and eyes widened as if scarfing down the world’s thickest bread roll. “That’s so cooool! Hic. I’m Butter snort… buttery... I’m butteryboy. Hey, do yoo~ou want to know how I got here?”

“...-”

“So I was, coming back from Azzie’s place, right? That’s what has the… Tonnikala. Oh I’m god, I said that right. And it’s the sky, right? It’s the sky!” The mysterious shopkeeper waved three of her hands around the air to make this really, really clear. “It’s like, the entire sky. But I also found this place, right? And here’s the thing. Here’s the t h i n g. Um, do you have any water?”

“I can go get-”

“The thing is, I didn’t land here. I wasn’t even gonna leave Azzie’s place, right?? I was just going down for a dip! And then I found a Route through a big cloud and bip boop, now I’m here. Hey, do you want some money?” Two of the hands extended, a pile of thin golden pieces slipping through their cupped fingers. Comet started to shake his head, but the hands had already fell apart and dropped the coins all over his feet. “Oops. Anyway, so I’m here now. And this place is really cool! I’m gonna have more parties… hic. And I’m gonna buy SO~O many thiiiiings. Omgg, you should show me things. And I’m gon-na get you dressed up! I’m gonna dress you in cute clothes~ and something other than leopard print fur, that’s getting kinda tacky...”

“Go home,” said Comet, backing away from the gold. “Go home, butter snort. This isn’t safe.”

“noooOOOooOOOOooo~!” Chopstick giggled. She rolled over onto her back and stretched on the counter, arching her spine luxuriously. “Nah, I’m not gonna go home yet. I can’t… really get up right now… bahahahahah. It wouldn’t… It’d take… a big rock hitting me in the head to make me do any sensible shit now,” said she.

Somewhere high, Veradax eclipsed the Pyres.



Chopstick lay back on her deck chair at the top of the Pagoda and watched the incoming meteor through her sunglasses. She excised a fresh dollar bill from under her straw hat and waved it temptingly at the distant streak of fire. The meteor didn’t budge.

“It’s gonna be that way, then, huh?”

She threw the bill to the wind and the wind spun it around before bringing it back in the form of a hefty wooden mallet.

“Batter up, bitch!”

---

The forest was noisy this early in the morning.

Not a pleasant or relaxing kind of noise, such as waves breaking on the beach. It was a needling, distracting kind of noisy. Birds chirping and screaming. Little buzzing of flies and bees. Even the little noises of creatures in the river made the k'nights turn their heads in a jolt.

The Eaters -- those phantom grey beast things -- had attacked twice more over the last five days. They could come out of nowhere, with no warning except an unnatural rustling or twig-breaking in the middle distance. The k'nights had taken to marching in a column by the water of the river as closely as possible these days. The formations helped but they were risky. They all fought best while swimming -- a trait the Eaters thankfully did not share most of the time -- but at least one flank always remained wide.

Anshumat, for their part, was a fairly capable swimmer, permitting them to keep up with the other k’nights despite their frame not being quite as aquatic. Under the river, the selka had an uncanny instinct in their fluid formations and movements that the demigod could not easily discern themself.

After several days of travel, there was some unexplained relief, even just a trace, when the k'nights rounded the next meander of the river. They saw the water broaden out to a sparkling field of rippling green before them. The bright expanse was quiet and calm, with a line of trees on the other side wrapping around the whole feature.

Some of the k'nights, those who never ventured this far inland, audibly sounded their wonder.

"What is this place?" Wass asked.

Takos the clever one raised a finger. "I have heard stories about places like this. Orphans of the ocean, full of fish and fresh water. The upriver folks call them lakes."

"Lakes," Phialu echoed airily, stepping ahead. She breathed in with a big smile. "It's so peaceful. Do you think people live here?"

Gralph walked on with his club over one shoulder. "There used to be," he said.

Phialu blinked and jogged to catch up. "What happened to them?"

"Don't know," Gralph responded out of the corner of his mouth. "But if they were still here, they would'a said hello by now." His eyes shifted left and right warily. "Spread out a bit! Look around…"

The natural beauty of the scene was replaced by a new kind of unease. The k'nights loosened their walking order and slowed to poke around the shore of the lake.

Anshumat took their spear and detached from the group. Their sightless eyes caught to a particularly well-growing patch of plantlife. Kneeling over to investigate it, the demigod spotted the remnants of essence scattered across the dirt. Many things had bled here once. Perhaps a meat rack used to stand there.

Anshumat then stood up, looking about the clearing and thinking. They caught sight of a series of stones placed out in a seemingly deliberate manner. They walked the breadth of the stones, tracing out a circular shape in the grass. There were several of these stone circles around, and some of them still held down heavily rotten cloths and hides.

There was once a large village here, Anshumat could tell. They called out to the rest of the group, “I’ve found something!”

Several pairs of feet ran to them at a semi-urgent pace. Wass was the first to slide to a stop, remaining ever the quickest. He stooped down and picked up the cloth. Dirt and moss sloughed off and noiselessly tore away half of it, weathered and wet as it was.

"What is this?" He held it up between his fingers in both hands. "It's like that hide you're wearing, Eyebiter."

"Not hide...Woven plants." A somber looking Yim shouldered his bow as he stared at the sheet. He rarely spoke at all. "Cloth. There were people here."

The rest of the k'nights had gathered. A few started to see the shapes of gutted shelters, fallen monuments, and little scraps upon the ground.

Phialu knelt down and rummaged through the dirt with one hand. "No bones," she remarked. Where is everyone? Where did they go?"

Phassam, the tough one with his arms still scarred by the first Eater encounter, loomed behind them. "They're slaves to someone now."

"K'nights!" Gralph's voice brought an automatic attention to all of them. The great warrior selka held out his rough-notched whale bone club out over the lake. His arm did not so much as quiver at the weight he held forth. "We search in there," He said, before wading into the green waters. "Yim! Humat! You stay and keep watch up here."

Wass and Phialu exchanged a worried glance. The k'nights brought themselves to the lake at various paces and dove under the surface.

They were not under for longer than one breath of their selka lungs. Gralph went to a spot in the middle as if he knew what to find. He swam down to the lake floor and dug aside the slimy silt around a large boulder. Three shoveling motions of his large hands revealed a sudden and bright blue light from the stone.

It lit up in everyone's senses, even Anshumat's.

It was a life. A soul in the stone. Something impossible.

Gralph continued shovelling the way the silt, kicking up a great murky cloud. He poked his head out of it for just a second to beckon the onlooking k'nights to help.

Anshumat came down into the silt with Gralph quickly, scooping through the sediment of the lakebed to locate more of the stones. Through opportune glimpses caught through the thickening silt, the demigod shot questioning looks at Gralph. Gralph only glanced back, urging them on by pointing his nose.

It was a large bundle of stones they were revealing. One of them shifted in a way Anshumat at first thought was other k'nights, but there were none around with the leverage.

The stones made a harsh grinding noise under the murk, sliding free in directions gravity should not have taken them.

Gralph clicked his tongue in the water to get everyone's attention. He brought his cupped hands up to gesture lifting.

The k'nights were incredulous. Still, Gralph braced himself against the silt with his feet and wrapped his hands around the stone with the glowing light all the same.

Anshumat plunged their pointed feet into the lakebed, lodging them firmly into the mud and silt. Reaching down with their hands, they then lifted hard against the stones.

Their combined might tugged at the stones and, with slow little inches at a time, they gave way. The maw that was the ground hung onto their prize like the jaws of a bear, but after a second of relief, they heaved again.

Thoooom…

The lakebed shook and a wake brushed over them from below. Anshumat diverted their attention and saw a row of boulders reach like an snake and plant against the silt with another deep thooom.

Anshumat found the boulder they clutched rising under its own power, lifting them up with it.

They kept one hand on the stone as the other let go to permit a freer range of motion. They twisted their body to look around, taking in the silty sights of the lakebed, trying to figure out what was happening. All the k'nights had swam a short distance away with looks of astonishment.

The stones ground together again near Anshumat's arm. The highest stone turned around and revealed the shining blue eye-like hole turning level to the demigod. The same light Gralph had initially revealed.

"Little things!"

A voice sounded suddenly in the water, a little too clearly.

"Little kind little things come to help poor trapped Kreekh?"

Almost gently, two limbs of stones wrapped around Anshumat's midsection and embrace the demigod. This set of stones had a strangely large soul.

"My gratitude could not be matched by a god of thank-yous! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Anshumat’s outer shell protected the demigod from the worst of the pressure. They looked at the soul creature that had emerged from the dirt, and then back at the K’nights, somewhat bewildered at what was happening.

Looking especially unsure back at Anshumat, Phorea the Keen curled her fingers and thumb into a circle and pat it against her chest. The gesture was a sign one picked up on quickly diving with the selka. Are you okay?

Anshumat nodded quickly to them; the creature didn’t seem hostile and they were not in pain.

Nevertheless, opening their mouth underwater wasn’t a good idea for an air-breathing creature, regardless of Anshumat’s status as a divine being, and so they kept their mouth shut.

Phorea looked across to Gralph and ran a nervous hand over her head.

Gralph looked at the creature and tapped his fingernails firmly against his club to get its attention.

"Hmm? Big little thing." The blue 'eye' of the stone creature turned to Gralph.

Gralph pointed to the shore, looked at the others, and directed them as well. The k'nights swam behind him towards the shore.

"Wait for me, little things!" Anshumat was finally released. The rock creature spread its arms to keep balance as it lumbered across the lakebed behind the selka.

The k'nights were gathered up and still dripping near the ruined village by the time Anshumat broke the surface of the water and caught up to them. They all had their eyes on the lake as the rock with the blue eye quietly displaced water as it rose from the surface, eventually turning into a water-darkened walking humanoid slate boulder clutch, dirtied from the waist down with brown silt. One arm was bigger than the other to the point where it stood with an awkward left-lean.

Its small right arm excitedly gave them all a wave.

"Little things! Do not run so soon, please! I was so lonely under there and for so long I thought I could not count to a number any higher! I began inventing numbers just to keep going."

Everyone was thoroughly confused except for Gralph, who simply stood with his arms crossed and his brow low.

"Er...everyone else is hearing its voice, right?" Kyko the Smiling One asked.

The others slowly nodded.

"Ooooh, you speak a coastal dialect," the rock figure 'said'. "I never did get to learn that language. The Ihokhurs always cut the tongues out of the little things they caught. Even then, I was not allowed to make friends easily as a slave."

Anshumat quickly remembered that the mortal k'nights did not have the gift of understanding all languages as divines like themself did.

The demigod stepped out in between the group and the creature, saying to the gathered selka, “He didn’t harm me. It was more of a hug. I think he was stuck down there and we freed him.”

They then looked over to the rock figure, taking their spear, and using the tip to clear out a patch of dirt from plants, began to draw in it. They drew a comically overweight rendition of Gralph pointing to the lake. An arrow pointed from that scene to the next, a rendition of all the Selka digging out the stones, with another arrow leading to all of them looking confused as the creature emerged.

The k'nights craned their heads to look, but kept their distance from the rock figure, who leaned over the little pictures.

"Hmmm...Oh! Oh, of course, you are from the coast! You must have never met any Ihokhetlani!" The rocky creature curled its too-long left arm up and three stones extended like a thumb to point at the top of its head. "Kreeeeeekh," it said slowly, before extending its hand towards Anshumat. "What is your name, thin little thing?"

Anshumat pointed to their own head, enunciating slowly and clearly, “Anshumat.” They then turned pointing to each Selka in turn, in the expectation that they would say their name as well.

"Rephaemle?"
"Takos."
"Antoph."
"Phorea. Nice to meet you?""
"...Yim."
"Wassamuttu."
"Phialu."
"Karagetak's the name, wha?"
"Humat."
"Kyko!"
"Hiphaeleon~"
"Phassam!
"Gralph."

"Ah! You must be the biggest little one, right here!" Kreekh tapped the fat drawing on the dirt.

Gralph smirked. "Anshumat has a knack for making me look thinner."

No one laughed, and it was not because of the joke.

"Hey Gralph," Reph piped up, pointing a thumb at Kreekh. "You understand this thing?"

Gralph snorted. "No. But what's the bet he recognised me from that drawing there, eh?"

"Oh, right."

"You are a fascinating little group!" Kreekh said. "But if I am to repay you in any way, I should start by warning you that this place is not safe for little things such as yourselves. The Ihokhurs are not far from here, and they have greater might and numbers than all of you. They are like me, but cruel, spikey, angry, and...stronger."

Anshumat looked back at Gralph, as if to question him over what to do about the warning.

Gralph kept looking at the blue 'eye' of Kreekh and tilted his head to one side. "Anshu, can you figure a way to ask how he got buried stuck on the bottom of the lake?"

Anshumat turned back to the rock creature, scuffing the dirt clean of pictures before drawing a rendition of the rock being, with an arrow pointing to another rendition of them under the lakebed. The second rendition was accompanied with several confused expressions, disembodied from any Selka, as if to ask a question.

Kreekh fidgeted in place, holding his small arm in his big hand. "The Ihokhurs...knew I was afraid of fish, so they picked me up and buried me under the lake." He tried to rally. "I put up a fight! I panicked, as it happens, and they had a hard time moving all our big bodies under the water, but there were too many for dear old Kreekh."

"We still don't understand your words," Kyko the Smiling One helpfully called out.

Kreekh virtually jolted and looked around. "Er...right...well...hm, how should I…" The Ihokhetlani took a few paces back and began a charade of growls and eeks and other vocalisations helping his rough mime of some angry and cruel version of him pushing him into the lake. It was hardly very helpful to anyone, though the k'nights could make guesses.

Phorea the Keen went first. "He was put there by someone else?"

"Maybe a few of them," Takos the Clever added, stroking his chin. "We should be careful in case there are more nearby…"

"Must've been some effort," Gralph said, looking pointedly at Anshumat. "Hey Eyebiter, how well do you think these things move in the water? That'd be important to know."

Gralph was not the most subtle of selkas, but the other k'nights hardly had the context to realise what he was emphasising.

"But anyway," Gralph continued. "If this one's friendly, then we should get more answers and then get moving."

The game of pictures, mimes, and body language went on for as long as Gralph was patient to do so. Anshumat and Gralph had no trouble understanding the raw words, though the k'nights were left with incomplete information.

There were selka in the ruined village before. They were taken by the cruel people Kreekh referred to. What that entailed, they could only guess. What they could know, once they got it into Kreekh's mind, was the way to the settlement of the cruel folk. Kreekh began to lead them there. They were likely the upriver folk in trouble they were told of.

---

"The Ihokhurs camped just around this river bend," Kreekh said and pointed a stony finger. "We should be very quiet from now on or they'll catch us." He pressed his fingers to the surface just below his blue 'eye'. The k'night's hushed one another.

"Keep your clubs out," Gralph murmured. He gestured with his head up to a rise thick with trees. "We'll go up this way."

Making no noise but unavoidable rustling of leaves, the k'nights slinked in the shadow of the tree canopy. A clearing was up ahead by the river bank, and on Gralph's command, they all laid prone against the ground, crawling the rest of the way to the bushes at the summit of the rise.

"Wait!" Kreekh said in a hush. "I miscounted! They should be around several more bends than this! I can tell by the shadows and the souls. Heh, I forgot some of my made up numbers don't make sense above water."

Kreekh was waved off by Reph, told to stay a short distance behind due to his size.

"Oh, are they here after all? Odd. Nevermind." He slumped into a seated position against a tree. "Maybe they moved for once…"

The clearing itself was an expanse of trees beaten and shredded to splinters, whether out of practicality or plain fury was unclear. The k'nights stared at the inhabitants of the clearing with nervous eyes and shallow breath.

Striding and milling around like black ticks grown to gigantic sizes were an overwhelming number of Ihokhurs, sized similarly to Kreekh, but just as he had described in his soundless words. They were bristling with dark and jagged rocky edges, pushing one another around in sport and in anger. What the k'nights laid eyes on could level any village in a stampede.

"There must be hundreds of them," Wass breathed between Anshumat and Phialu.

Phialu bared her teeth tensely. "...These are what took the lake selka?" She narrowed her eyes. "But where are they? Phorea, Anshu, do you see anyone?"

"Mm-m." Phorea shook her head.

Anshumat peeked out at the clearing, their blind eyes gazing over the length and breadth of it. They scanned once, twice, and then solemnly shook their head.

"We were meant to find them…" Gralph said solemnly. His eyes were fixed upon the dark creatures with a silent, growing rage. "They were meant to be saved…" His large webbed hands audibly curled around the soil beneath his palms.

Anshumat silently and subtly turned their head, watching Gralph from the corner of their eyes. They remained silent, still gripping their spear as they slowly brought the undergrowth back up, fully concealing themself from the clearing.

Gralph's mouth opened to a snarl, but it was interrupted by something catching his attention from above. Up in the sky.



Reph looked up and saw nothing but the tree branches. "What is it, Gralph?"

And then, disregarding his stealth, Gralph slowly stood up, still looking at the sky through the leaves. His chest rose and fell with emotion. "Is that what it is now, huh?!" He spread his arms up. "Throw some rocks around to waste all the potential!?!"

"Gralph! Keep it down!" Reph hissed. "Get back to cover!"

"Could you not have got over yourself in time, coward!?!" Gralph roared loud enough to make all the fur on the back of the k'nights' necks stand on end.

In the clearing, quite a number of Ihokhurs stopped in place and turned their sinister red 'eyes' towards Gralph.

Reph was about to speak up again, only to find the tip of Gralph's club pointing at him. "Reph! Take the k'nights, take Kreekh, swim back down river as fast as you can." He hefted his club over his shoulder, revealing raw fury in his selka face. "These things killed the missing selka and they'll come to kill the rest. You all need to hold them by the ocean."

The Ihokhurs threw aside what they were doing and began to close in.

"Us all?" Reph cried. "What about you!?"

Gralph turned back towards the Ihokhurs and strode forward. "Just do as I say, Reph!" He spat over his shoulder.

"Gralph, wait!" Reph stood up out of his cover, breathing frantically. "There are too many! Come back!"

A foreign but familiar roar screamed out from the sky behind the k'nights. Swooping a shadow over them and landing to a stop beside Gralph was none other than Stixis, the crimson dragon blinded by Anshumat's spear. He held his head low to take in the scents and the sounds ahead.

Another, lower and more bestial roar sounded from further down on the river bed, as splashing violently out of the water was the huge grey shape of Yimbo, the guardian seal.

With Gralph between them, the two monsters advanced to meet the Ihokhurs' stride.

Anshumat was briefly stunned, turning their full attention to Gralph, bewildered, as he suddenly jumped into action. They turned to look at the rest when Gralph ordered them to retreat, and they slowly began to back off from the angered Selka and his creatures.

Then, the demigod called out to the rest. “Stick together! This is no longer our fight! We need to get back!”

With a wave of their spear into the air to garner attention, the demigod began to retreat.

The k'nights were waved out of their own bewildered states one-by-one with Anshumat's order, Reph being the last to turn away with tears brimming his eyes. They fell in and began their jog through the trees.

They were panting with mixed fear and shock by the time they got to Kreekh, who moved his head quickly to keep track of them.

Hiphaeleon the beautiful gracefully pat the Ihokhetlani's arm on his way past. "Get to the river, rock man!"

Kreekh stood his cumbersome body up, but Wass skidded to a halt.

"Wait!" Wass shouted. He looked all around him. "Where's Phialu!?"

Some k'nights slowed.

"Keep going to the river!" Reph shouted.

Wass breathed in and bellowed, "WHERE'S PHIALU!?!" With no answer, he ducked into a sprint back towards the clearing.

"Shit." Reph bared his teeth. "Wassamuttu!"

“No! Stop!” Anshumat screamed hoarsely at Wass as he took off, skidding into a tumble as they desperately redirected their weight to try and switch directions. “Don’t! There’s too many for one Selka!” Their tumble was halted with a violent impact with a tree, and they were back up in a flash, panting as they immediately picked up pace once again, this time back the way they came.

Wass disappeared into the foliage.

The demigod gave the rest one brief glance, yelling, “Keep going! Don’t look back!”

Reph panted through his teeth, hesitating, before pointing his club at Anshumat. "See you at the river!" He said before running to follow the remaining k'nights.

Anshumat’s muscles bulged out of the holes in their shell for finger joints, as they gripped their spear as tightly as possible. The ground skidded wildly by under them as they ran, roots and holes narrowly missed. “Wass! Come back!” Anshumat desperately screamed, their head wildly swinging about as they searched. Little flickers of Wass' essence peeked through the woods. Following the traces brought Anshumat to the edge of the clearing again.

Nearest to him, in the clearing and to the right, Stixis brought all his draconic might down upon Ihokhurs all around him. His tail, claws, and teeth ripped the stone people from their footing and sent them flying. The Ihokhurs were given no quarter by his blindness. To the left, near the river, Yimbo took Ihokhurs into its mouth one or two at a time and either ground the stone to pieces between its teeth or took them back into the water, only to be thrashed about with such uncanny force as to be scattered to pieces like a clumps of flying dirt. In the centre was Gralph, now glowing with outward godly power in Anshumat's senses. The Ihokhurs gave the disguised god a wide berth, as every one that hazarded a swipe at the comparatively small overgrown selka was met by his speeding club and was shattered with unnatural strength.

All three held something of a line. All three were gaining wounds slashed into their flesh by bladelike stone fingers and arms. But they were not Anshumat's objective.

Along the edge of the clearing, the tiny red light of Wass' essence ran after an even more distant red essence; Phialu, trying to sneak around the commotion.

A desperate breath welled in Anshumat’s throat, as they watched Wass plunge across the edge of the clearing. Such an obvious act was bound to gain the attention of the Ihokhurs, and the demigod felt terrified of such a thing. If any one of them took notice now, Wass would be too far away for Anshumat to catch up in time. Regardless, they broke back into their run.

"Phialu!" Wass shouted foolishly.

Phialu stopped and spun around, bow in hand. She saw Wass and her face twisted in dread. Go back! Run! She mouthed under the commotion.

Wass kept closing the distance, just as Anshumat was closing the gap between him and them. They might catch him in time.

But to their left, a group of at least twelve Ihokhurs thundered forward -- towards Phialu.

Phialu froze for a crucial second before sprinting into the woods away from them.

"NO!" Wass reached out. And Anshumat was on him.

Anshumat began to skid again as they tried to grab hold of Wass’ clothes, to pull him back. Wass resisted. They screamed, “RUN! WASS, RUN!” With a wild jerk, they threw their spear at the lead Ihokhurs.

The spear flew in an arc. It struck an Ihokhur on its head swiftly enough to cause the creature to flinch back, even if it pinged ineffectually off the stone. The movement brought the group to a halt.

"No! Let go!" Wass grabbed Anshumat's hand and twisted them close, desperate and panicked. "Get Phialu! She's looking for survivors! She has to live! Please!"

“You need to run! Now! You need to get out of here!” Anshumat yelled at them, glancing back at the Ihokhurs. They were closing in, but they split between both them and Phialu's retreat. “Just go! You can’t face these odds! I’m not letting you die here!”

"This is my word!" Wass screamed back. "This is my desire! You said that should be enough! If you hold me in any regard you will get her out alive!"

“I will, but you need to get out alive first! Please, go! Run!” Anshumat shook Wass, a moment later feeling the rush of air behind them. Anshumat instinctively sidestepped, letting go of Wass for just enough time to see him turn and look up upon death.

There was a sickening crunch as the rocky fist descended downwards. Blood sprayed.

Anshumat thought they felt themselves screaming, but they couldn’t be sure. Adrenaline hit and everything slowed. A golden fury lit in Anshumat’s veins and the demigod sicced themselves on the Ihokhurs like a rabid, cornered dog.

Their strikes landed with the strength of a hundred Selka, the demigod smitten with the terrible fires of divine rage. Great blasts of force sent shattered rubble flying in exploded gouges from the wildly swiping and lumbering Ihokhurs. With great difficulty, they tried and failed to surround the darting divine or land a single solid blow.

A third Ihokhur crumbled under their strikes.

A fourth fell apart after half its torso was blown to pieces.

Then time slowed down. Anshumat was barely out of the way of Gralph's feet as he flew in from the sky and slammed his club upon the dirt, causing a shockwave that blasted up a cloud of tree splinters and earth. Anshumat and all the Ihokhurs around them were thrown to the ground.

Gralph immediately stomped up and tugged Anshumat up by the lapel of their robe. He was covered in black dust and his eyes burned with the fast-breathing rage of a blood god. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?" he roared, pale sharp selka teeth shining.

He did not let them answer. Gralph effortlessly threw Anshumat in a great arc. Anshumat flailed as they spiraled, desperately trying to keep eyes on Wass’ body. As it grew distant, the ground swallowed sight of it, and the violent battle around it ensured it wouldn’t be found again. Then the dirt rose up to meet the demigod’s body. With a plume of dust and horrific creaks of bodily strain, Anshumat cratered.

Dazed, they laid low to the ground, no longer sure where they were. A groan escaped them, and they slowly lifted their head. They lay at the edge of the clearing, with no idea where Wass had once been. Their rage slowly bubbled again as they desperately surveyed the clearing for the body, and climbing to their feet, they bellowed at Gralph.

An animalistic scream emerged from their jaw, split wide open, as they charged Gralph, driven by blind rage at the loss of Wass’ body.

The Ihokhurs around Gralph were either dead or retreating, scattered and driven at the heels by Stixis and Yimbo. Gralph himself turned around just gradually enough to face Anshumat that his deep frown and wild eyes were their only warning.

Anshumat was too far lost in their rage to care. In their hand emerged a gleaming lance of divine energy. Anshumat leaped forwards and drove the lance towards Gralph’s head. Then his head was not there.

The world stopped. A crunch of crackling shell leapt from an impact that compressed Anshumat's midsection and sent their head and limbs flicking to a stop before them. Their body went limp, succumbing to a painfully winded paralysis as they hung suspended on Gralph's fist, planted firmly against their stomach.

Gralph had ducked low. He spoke from below Anshumat's shoulder. "That's enough, Anshumat," he said, low and firm.

Gralph then raised Anshumat up, and -- calmly this time -- threw the demigod across the air. Anshumat screamed one last curse at Gralph before all they could perceive was the rush of air. They spun wildly, unable to focus on any one thing, their world a hazy blur of movement.

Then, before they had even seen or realized, the trees greeted the demigod with malice. Anshumat, for their part, smashed three of them before finally coming to a stop, their landing finally complete at the base of an old oak.

Blood leaked from both Anshumat’s midsection and head. Their consciousness fell away.

---

Muted water ran by their ears.

They were cold, dangling in a current.

They were pulled along. Dragged along.

A female voice struggled.

Rain fell in heavy droplets on leaves. Thunder rolled.

A flash of light lit up in Anshumat's blind eyes. Natural, but sudden. They stirred and clutched a thoroughly bruised torso.

"Don't move too much," the voice said. It was Phialu. "You're hurt pretty bad."

Anshumat hoarsely murmured, “Wass?”

"...He and you ran after me," she said, looking into a campfire between them. Her voice bounced off the walls of the cave around them. "I wasn't noticed until…"

Another flash of lightning filled the cave with white for a split second.

"You idiots just ran in…" She drew her knees up to her chest. "You drew them, you…" She pressed her face to her knees. "That idiot," she sobbed.

Anshumat stirred slightly, the movement causing them to violently hack blood. Collapsing back down, they simply cried out, “Wass!”

Phialu sucked in two sharp breaths. "After the rock men ran away...I couldn't find him."

Anshumat let out a wordless sob.

Above the clouds, thunder rolled without every lightning strike prompting as a blood god shattered more stone.

---

---

He stood before the door as the light of Heliopolis rose to touch his back. A shaking hand rested upon the door knob as anxiety welled up in his heart. Orvus was afraid. He did not know what his family thought of his disappearance, or how they would react to returning after ten long years. It felt like a lifeage and he was tired, so very tired. Perhaps that was what it felt like to be mortal. A perpetual tiredness, mixed with regret and sadness. He unwittingly caused the entire world harm, which it was probably still going through and Kalmar lay dying or dead… And it was all his fault. He had failed them all, every single o-

The door began to open, and he recoiled his hand. Then standing before him was a starry nebulite woman of purple and pink swirls. Her long hair, the same colors, glowed faintly. She wore simple clothing. Her eyes went wide as she recoiled, before bringing her hands up to cover her mouth and nose. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she whispered, “D-Daddy…?”

Something broke inside, as a flood of tears began to fall down his pale face. He began to nod his head.

”L-Lily…” he breathed desperately. She then embraced him and Orvus returned the hug, clinging to his daughter as they both cried. She had somehow grown taller than him, but only by a small amount, and yet this did not stop him from seeing her as his little girl. With happy tears, she pulled away and grabbed the sides of his face. “Where have you been?” she asked.

”The Moon…” he said, the memories of that place haunting him still. Abraxas cruel laughter mocked him, before he blinked again and smiled. ”When did you get so tall?”

She laughed at that, before hugging him again. “Oh dad… I missed you.” she whispered into his chest. Orvus hugged her tighter, before another voice could be heard, one that had pulled him through the torture.

”Lily? Who are you talkin-” Rowan said, standing at the far end of the hallway, now frozen. Slowly as she registered what she was seeing, the woman with mahogany hair began to cry as she rushed to Orvus. Lily was quick to leave him, before Rowan almost tackled him to the ground. It took the last of his strength to stand up, but he did and he clung onto her for life as they slipped to the floor.

She hugged him tightly for a long time, neither of them wanting the moment to end. But Rowan eventually pulled back as her cheeks were wet. ”Never again.” she shook her head. ”Never again am I letting you out of my sight.”

”I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Orvus cried, falling forward into her lap. ”I’ll never leave again, I promise.” He felt a hand gently caress his hair as he cried.
“M-Mom?” came a child’s voice. Orvus brought his head up and looked past Rowan to see a golden figure. A boy, with black eyes and he knew he looked upon his son. He felt a greater sadness well up inside of him, at the fact that the boy had never known his father. But that would change.

”Doron.” Rowan said, also looking at him. ”I’d like you to meet your father.”

The boy blinked, an uncertain look came upon his face as he looked between his two parents. “My… Father?” he said after a moment.

”H-Hello, Doron. My son.” he said with a bit of pride in his voice. Doron took a step backwards, before turning around and running inside.

”Doron!” Rowan called after him, but it was too late, the boy was gone. She turned to Lily, who was already making her way inside. “I’m already on it, mom.”

”Thank you, dear.” she said, before turning back to Orvus, who stared at the empty door frame. He felt many emotions, none of them good, but chief among them was his failure of being the boy’s father.

Rowan pulled him back into a hug and said, ”It’s okay my love. He’ll come around, I know it. He needs his father as much as you need him.”

He clutched her shoulder and said, ”I hope so. I do. I’m such a failure Rowan. I should have seen what she was going to do, I should have helped her. I should have known. It’s all my fault.” he broke down again.

Rowan rocked him and said, ”No, it is not your fault. It is Laurien’s fault. She did this to you. To us. She didn’t have to, Orvus. She didn’t have to hurt you. That was her fault, not yours. But you’re here now, you came back to us.” she said, crying happy tears.

The rational part of his mind wanted to believe her, but something held him back… Guilt. ”O-Okay.” he lied to her. ”O-Okay.”

“DAD!” Came another voice, one similar to Lily’s. Orvus looked up and back to see Ava running at them on the path. Following close behind was Arya and another male, holding something in his hands. Ava quickly bounded up the steps and just like Rowan, attacked Orvus before he could react with a fierce hug. He returned it with a hard squeeze. “Where have you been, daddy?” she cried.

He said nothing but pat her on her back, finding the right words to be difficult anymore. Ava finally pulled away to look at him and smiled warmly, “I have someone that would like to meet you.” she said getting up and going over to the male, who stood with Arya on the porch now. She gave him a quick kiss on her cheek, before taking the bundle in his arms with care. Ava then went back over to them and bent down, revealing a tiny face with large white eyes staring back up at him.

“Meet Ellowyn, my daughter.” Ava cooed.

The baby smiled up at him, and suddenly he felt much better. ”She’s… She’s beautiful.” he breathed.

And somehow, surrounded by his loved ones, Orvus knew everything was going to be okay.

Much had changed in the past decade.

Pallamino the Third had stayed with Hujaya, Kaleo, Sulingu and Pyouroff for a couple years, learning the ways of the Stormbards, before deciding to set out independently. He parted with the blessings and goodwill of the other Stormbards.

Shortly afterwards, Pyouroff chose to settle back in his home village among the Hyummin, his age catching up to him. There he found a few more selka to apprentice as new Stormbards. Pyouroff had also become a source of oral lore among the Hyummin, his age and experience qualifying him as an elder.

The romance between Hujaya and Kaleo blossomed into love and eventually children. They had a boy, a selka toddler named Delfon who travelled with them in their nomadic lifestyle. Kaleo had learned how to play percussion to fill the absence left by Pyouroff.

Sulingu was still travelling with Hujaya and Kaleo, and she was now a fully grown woman and effectively family. Sulingu was still as graceful as ever, and she had also learned the lyre from Hujaya.

Hujaya, Kaleo, Sulingu and Delfon had spent the last few years travelling the coast between Hyummin and Ubbo. The increased aggression and expansionism of the Hyummin had not gone unnoticed by the Stormbards. What the Stormbards could do about it was limited. As Hyummin natives, they did not want to fight against their own people. Yet neither did they want to fight for the Hyummin against the people of other villages, for the Stormbards had travelled broadly and made friends broadly. The Stormbards did not wield much political power, so did not have the ability to directly lobby the Hyummin. But what they did have was cultural influence and stories. They shared songs of the downfall of the Grottu, reminding the Hyummin of the dangers of warfare.

In spite of this, the travelling Stormbards lived fairly peaceful lives, sharing with selka the beauty of music and the stories of Delphina. It was not until now that they had a chance to truly show Delphina's strength.

---

"I wanna food!"

Hujaya sighed and looked up at Heliopolis. "You've already eaten recently. It's hardly past midday."

"Wanna food!" pouted Delfon.

Hujaya looked pleadingly at Kaleo. Kaleo knelt down, grabbed Delfon, picked him up and gave the toddler a stern look. "Delfon, what does Kirron teach us?" On getting nothing but a mutter, Kaleo continued slowly, "We have to earn our fun. What have you done to earn your food?"

Delfon muttered, "Hungry. Feet hurt."

"You need to get stronger, Delfon. We walk a lot. Look, how about if you don't complain again between now and afternoon, you can have the rabbit's leg. Deal?"

Delfon considered this for a few moments, his eyes going to the butchered smoked rabbit's carcass tied to his father's side. "Okay."

Kaleo put Delfon down on the ground. "Good boy."

Sulingu watched the scene with a smile, then continued with her lilting gait. Hujaya and Kaleo sang a little travelling song behind her to keep Delfon occupied as they walked. Sulingu was a short distance ahead of the others when she crested a small hill and stopped in her tracks. Her hand went to her flute. "H-Hujaya. Y-you need to see this," she stammered.

Hujaya and Kaleo stopped their song and ran up to the hill beside Sulingu.

"By Kirron's whiskers," exclaimed Kaleo.

"What happened?" Hujaya asked, her mouth gaping and eyes wide.

Before them the trunks and branches of the trees had turned black and their leaves turned white. The grass and undergrowth had withered and turned grey. On the ground lay dead birds, similarly blackened. A few birds still stood on the branches, their feathers grey and eyes dimly glowing. White motes drifted about like some kind of sickly ash. Before their eyes one of the motes settled on a healthy tree and sunk into its bark, a grey blemish spreading from where it entered. The forest was completely silent, with no sounds of life.

Delfon reached the trio, and Kaleo held him close protectively. They stared silently at the scene, unsure what to make of it. Eventually Sulingu said, "I don't like it."

Hujaya's eyes went towards the coast. "There's a village not far down-beach from here." Sulingu and Kaleo knew well the intent behind Hujaya's words. "Let's find a squall and move."

The Stormbards pulled out their instruments - Kaleo his drum, Sulingu her bone flute, Hujaya her lyre - and played the Song of Calling as they walked hastily around the blighted forest. Delfon was quiet, knowing not to interrupt his parents while they sung to squalls and also subdued by the grim atmosphere. Hujaya offered a silent prayer to Delphina, and soon they had a squall. They made the squall dance around them, keeping the miasma at bay.

With trepidation they walked towards and along the beach. They knew a tribe lived around here somewhere, and every step they went without seeing another selka made them more anxious. Then they heard a sound which made their hearts sink: wails of grief. "No," breathed Hujaya, and she quickened her pace, the others rushing behind her.

A sorrowful sight met Hujaya's eyes as she rounded the top of the sand bank. In the camp of the selka lay the sick and dying, black and white blotches covering their fur like a pox. Those who were still healthy knelt beside their loved ones, trying to administer the simple remedies they normally used to no avail. Some of the ill thrashed about where they lay, while some simply stared soullessly into the sky above with glowing white eyes.

Hujaya saw their plight, and in an outpouring of grief she sung,

"Selka sorrowful, selka crying,
I came here and saw your plight.
Although I cannot save your dying,
Delphina's winds can stop the blight."

Sulingu and Kaleo crested the sand bank behind Hujaya, with Delfon struggling along behind them. Sulingu gasped, her flute playing stopping. Kaleo kept beating his drum. Sulingu, remembering herself, stepped forwards and gracefully swept a semicircle in front of herself, directing the squall to blow over and around the camp.

The selka looked up as the Stormbards approached and the wind blew about them. A boy in his mid teens stood and to meet Hujaya. His face was streaked with more wetness than the usual residual sadness from living on land. "Hello, Hujaya. I'm... not sure whether it is good or bad you have come now."

Hujaya recognised the boy, for she had met this tribe only a couple winters ago. This was the chief's son. "Well, we're here now, Lilut. Where's your father?"

The boy looked over his shoulder to one of the marred lying on the ground, and he sobbed as fresh tears welled up in his eyes. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Hujaya said. She pulled Lilut into a hug to comfort him as he cried for his father.

"Hujaya," came a gentle reminder from Kaleo, who along with Sulingu was still trying to find a pattern for the squall to settle into. Delfon hugging onto Kaleo's leg did not help matters.

Hujaya sighed. "Coming." She stepped back from Lilut and gave a tuneful hum as she inspected the scene. She then strummed a chord on her lyre which made a melancholy sound when combined with her humming. The squall shifted its orbit to match the new resonance. With Hujaya and Sulingu controlling the squall, Kaleo was able to take a break to comfort the frightened Delfon.

As the Stormbards ensured the squall kept the perimeter of the camp clear of sickly motes, the people of Lilut's tribe recounted how about two days ago they had seen the first of the motes blow in from across the sea. Several of their number had fallen deathly ill, and the plants had also started to wither. Nothing they had could treat the illness, not even eye-fish scales. They had moved from where they had been before, but the blight had spread, and now there were more sick selka than healthy selka. They had been faced with the choice of abandoning their dying to flee for their own safety, or staying put and risking further infection. Now that the Stormbards had arrived, they could wait around and deliver the last rites. An alma had arrived and sat nearby, watching the dying selka from a respectful distance.

Hujaya, meanwhile, was sitting down and playing a sombre melody on her lyre. The combined strain of watching the squall and hearing the tragedy which had befallen Lilut's tribe showed on her face. "Why? Why must it be like this? If only we had gotten here sooner. Then we could have stopped it." Hujaya buried her face in her hands. Sulingu snapped up in alarm, scrambled for her own lyre and picked up the melody where Hujaya had abruptly stopped. The squall wavered only briefly in its flight.

Hujaya looked up only to gesture around at the perimeter set out by the squall. "We can only protect those this close, and we can't even heal them. And how many other tribes are there who are also suffering this blight?" Hujaya lamented. "Why, Delphina? What have they done to deserve this? How can we show your strength when all we have is a puff of wind?"

There was a distant screech of a pyrgerakia. Yet it was something else that made Hujaya raise her head.

Give me your lyre.

Hujaya blinked, a look of confusion on her face. "What?"

Give me your lyre.

Hujaya trembled as she looked down at her lyre. She had made it herself years ago. It was what she had been playing when Delphina visited her. She had replaced the strings a few times, and it was of rather simple design, but it was her most treasured possession. There were a few moments of hesitation and reservation. Then she stood up and walked towards the ocean.

"Hujaya, what are you doing?" called Kaleo, but Hujaya did not answer. She waded until the water was up to her knees, then she slipped the lyre's strap over her head and lay the lyre on the water. A wave receded past her, dragging the lyre out to sea. She watched as it became more distant, standing there as the waves lapped around her legs, questions and doubt buzzing inside her mind.

Suddenly, the sky was split in half by a bolt of lightning which seared purple blotches into Hujaya's vision. The deafening thunder made her stagger as it rumbled through her bones. By the time Hujaya's vision had cleared, Kaleo had rushed to her side and held her arm. "Hujaya, are you alright?"

Hujaya looked at where her lyre had been, where the lightning had struck. "My lyre..." She could see her lyre being carried by the waves back to shore, but it had a faint blue glow. As it got closer, they saw that it crackled with sparks and hummed with electricity.

Cautiously, Hujaya reached towards the lyre. There was a faint crackle and a prickling sensation in her fingers when Hujaya touched it and she drew back her hand reflexively. On realising that she was unharmed, she reached out again and picked it up. The strings glowed electric blue and thrummed with power. Hujaya looked to Kaleo beside her, and back to Sulingu and the other selka in the camp behind her, who were watching on with fascination. Hujaya slipped the strap of her lyre back over her head, then cautiously brought a finger to a string and strummed it.

Thrumm-umm-umm_{-umm-mm-m-m...}

The sound carried from Hujaya, past the camp and over the horizon like thunder rolling across the sky. The squall orbiting around the camp broke from its path to circle around Hujaya, until Sulingu's music called it back. All the selka looked on in awe.

Kaleo's whiskers twitched. "I think you called more squalls."

Hujaya looked up at the sky. There indeed appeared to be a few squalls flying in the distance. She strummed a few more strings on her lyre.

THR-THR-THRUMM-UMM-umm-umm-umm_{-umm-umm-mm-m-m...}

The squall circling the camp sprayed raindrops across all the selka gathered. A few seconds later, the distant squalls reacted, surging ahead with a burst of speed. A huge grin stretched across Hujaya's face. She looked back at the camp, then along the beach. She started to wade back to shore. "Clap me in, Kaleo."

Kaleo looked at Hujaya for a few moments more in awed silence. Then he clapped once, a second time, then four claps in a row, Hujaya skipping in time with Kaleo's clapping. Then she played her new lyre and sung.

"Praise to Delphina, her power she gave,
Now I can show you the tricks which can save.
With this lyre I have Delphina's great might,
So look and see a most marvellous sight."

The Lightning Lyre's melody filled the air with electricity and otherworldly tones. Its sound carried for an enormous distance, but despite its apparent volume Hujaya's voice could still be heard clearly.

"With my playing I can command the breeze,
For the storm spirits my song does appease.
With a word and a note I make it blow,
The wind obeys and follows where I go."

Two more squalls appeared, and Hujaya sent them into an outwards spiral centred on the camp. Their orbits grew wider and wider, expanding much further than anything the Stormbards had done in the past.

"With my playing I can command the sky,
That blue place where the birds, clouds and squalls fly.
No distance is beyond Delphina's reach,
My song is heard on the sea, land and beach."

Even more squalls arrived and joined the others, making counting them difficult. Hujaya sent the squalls spiralling in an elliptical path which stretched up- and down-beach over the horizon, covered a good stretch of ocean, and pushed inland slightly while keeping the blighted trees outside the perimeter. Overhead storm clouds formed from the squalls' presence, spiralling around with Hujaya in the eye of the storm.

"With my playing I'll keep the blight away,
No more selka here need to die this day.
As far as can been seen my song is heard.
Praise to Delphina, my prayer she answered."

There was a cry of a pyrgerakia as a flare of fire swooped down and set the trees just outside the blighted forest ablaze. The legion of squalls which had been summoned by Hujaya pushed against the flames, fanning them into the marred trees. Slowly the marred trees burned down, and Hujaya pushed the perimeter set up by the squalls further inland.

Minutes ticked by to hours and the day gave way to night, but still Hujaya played with notes of thunder. Kaleo had hand-fed Hujaya and gotten her water, but the extended performance exhausted her. Hujaya's fingers ached. Her movements grew weary. Her eyes drooped.

"You have to rest, Hujaya," Kaleo said, concern in his voice.

"I can't stop. They're counting on me. Them, and everyone else I can reach," Hujaya replied.

"And what will happen to them when you pass out while controlling a hurricane?"

"If I stop now, the blight will come back."

"I could play," Sulingu offered.

Hujaya thought for a few moments, then said, "Okay."

Kaleo helped Hujaya slip the strap of her lyre off while she continued to play. Sulingu stood close beside Hujaya. "You ready?" Hujaya asked. Sulingu nodded. After Hujaya had struck a chord at the end of a phrase, she passed the instrument to Sulingu, who took only a moment to start playing the next phrase. The notes fell uncertainly for a few seconds as Sulingu reacted to the initial jolts of electricity and adapted to the new sound, but she settled into Hujaya's previous melody quickly enough.

Hujaya flopped down to the ground in exhaustion. She barely had time for a single breath before Delfon clambered on top of her. "That was wow, mum! And loud! And windy!"

Though she was tired, Hujaya giggled and gave Delfon a kiss on the forehead. "It was," she concurred. She hugged her child to her chest. "Now, it's past time for you to sleep. Let's get some rest." Hujaya yawned and closed her eyes, drifting off to the melody of the storm.

With the expert help of Pygmy hands, it had not taken long to fill the storage houses of the Dreamer city. Like machines, the dutiful simians had dug clay out of the ground and brought it up to the Industrial Square atop the great turtle beast. In return for their services, as promised, the Dreamers had revealed to the Pygmies the art of claycraft, showing them how to build and work the draft furnaces that had been constructed atop Chuanwang’s shell. The Pygmy apprentices diligently absorbed the knowledge of their Dreamer teachers and began work on similar projects in Tal Eren as soon as the Dreamers had left. It took a number of determined attempts, but after a number of weeks, draft furnaces were filling up the western part of the city, and thick, black smoke oozed out of the tall furnace chimneys. The pottery was scrappy at first, but experiment after experiment yielded better and better ceramics. Soon, the water from Beihe could be trapped in clay pots and stored in houses so that the workers could focus on their tasks for longer periods of time instead of having to run down to the river all the time to drink. More furnaces were built, more effort put into the work. Different types of clay were brought into the projects with varying and differing results. The ceaseless furnaces of Tal Eren burned day and night, sending columns of gray rising over the plains and jungle as if the Fire Giants had returned.

And, one day, it seemed that greater forces had conspired to complete the impression. The tremors of immense footsteps coursed through the soil before even anything more than a large blot had appeared on the southward horizon. They grew stronger as it advanced, gripping the very walls of houses and workshops. Tools rattled on their shelves, water spilled from basins, the swine in the fields sniffed the air restlessly and squealed their welcome to the air.

In mere minutes, the distant blot had become a gigantic shadow like a walking mountain. Little more passed before its outlines became clearer - the masses of enormous jagged iron plates, the titanic limbs, the blank-faced head with four flaming eyes. On the metallic enormity’s shoulder, maybe sprawled, maybe coiled, was a colossal, outlandish monstrosity. Its contours stayed blurry even as those of its master were clearly in sight, with one limb appearing to be a clawed paw one moment and a writhing tentacle another. The monster reached into gaps in the preternatural armour with what were either tongues or proboscises, draining something out of them.

When Narzhak stopped before the last rows of new, still incomplete furnaces, he loomed over the city in its entirety. His shoulders darkened the Heliopolis, casting a spell of untimely dusk on roofs and fields, only broken by the prying light of his eyes. He clapped his hands, and the crash was that of a hundred thunders striking at once.

The great ape was there, bearing the brunt of the roar without flinching. He bowed, his locks kissing the earth. ”Father, a thousand greetings.”

”Good to see you,” the god nodded, his voice rolling far around. ”Even better, you haven’t been wasting time.” He gestured towards the city’s core. The creature on his shoulder shifted and oozed as the motion pushed it up.

”It would be unbecoming of a godspawn to wallow about, father. I work to bring life the words I uttered in the plains of my birth.”

”And drive them to build the body, I see,” a row of houses were thrown into shadow by a pointing finger far larger than the sum of them, ”Good thought, that. Don’t let a body lie around unused. Is this place of yours any good yet?”

Anu nodded. ”Nearly. It is growing rapidly and with time its full might will be brought to bare, all things go well.”

”Full might? It’s early to talk about that yet.” Narzhak raised an arm to lay an open hand on the beast’s back. ”Tell me this. How wide does your vision go?”

”Beyond the horizons, father.”

”That’s vague, but I couldn’t tell you what’s over half of them myself,” iron fingers tapped together like bells tolling, ”What’s more, width alone won’t do it. You’ll need control. How deep will you go with that?”

”An empire unhindered by landmasses or oceans, a world order, to be specific.” he breathed. ”As for how deep I will go, I will go as deep as is warranted. I empathize towards sentiant-kind and wish to raise them from the mud and I will have nothing less than pristine.”

”Hrm. You’ve got the right idea.” The tolling grew more distant as Narzhak tapped the side of his head. ”Show me how strongly you hold them now.”

A nod and a small hand-gesture called the warriors nearest to him. They assembled immediately, kowtowing before both divines. As one voice, they greeted, “A thousand blessings to the War-Father and His Majesty!” and awaited their commands.

”Rise and take up arms.” he ordered smoothly.

They rose as one, too, spun on their heels and jogged for the palace barracks. Before the two gods truly had time to wait, they returned with wooden spears and stood at attention.

”Turn your blades upon my father, and impale him.” he deadpanned.

The warriors seemed momentarily hesitant, whether from the blasphemy or the logistics of such a task. However, the one in the back swiftly let out a wild, guttural howl and charged forward towards the giant’s boot. The others followed swiftly, insane discipline overtaking their senses.

The great ape intoned above the symphony of ringing iron and warcries. ”If their king commands it, they fight a god.”

Narzhak’s eyes widened curiously as they looked straight down at the swarming figures. A grumbling rose from deep in his throat, soon growing into a low chuckle that made the ground quiver and shook the ranks of his assailants. His finger turned down on the pygmies, and he rumbled ”At ease!” in a voice that was, it seemed, more command than sound.

Amidst a nod, his gaze slid back along the ground to Anu. ”You know how to handle them. My son.” His laugh surged back up, not without pride. ”There is, still, one thing that’s trouble for chains of command like yours. You’re one, and they? Hundreds now, and if you go as far as you say, thousands of times that. Only a handful can hear you at once.”

The pygmies returned to their kings side, shaken yet determined. ”Yes, distance has a habit of making the King feel less like a king. But we intend to set up a chain of command and bureaucracy, they will hear their king.”

”That’ll help, but it won’t be absolute.” Iron fingers grit together again. ”It will be just mortals driving each other, and leave them without safeguards-” the gigantic hand straightened itself and cut a line in the air, ”-there’ll be rough spots on the way. More when you start getting ones without your mark, and you’re going to. You’ll need something else.” Two eyes of the four jumped around the roofs and fields. ”Have them clear us a good place.”

The ape nodded, glancing at his guard. ” Section off some land nearby.”

”At once, your Majesty!” they barked in unison, melting into the city. Little time passed before a single pygmy returned to kotow before the gods again. ”His Majesty, War-Father, a plot just south had been made available.”

”Good. Father?”

”Let’s.” Narzhak stepped southward - or, rather, did a partial about-face, keeping his feet close together to avoid stepping on the fringe buildings. His gaze sought and swept appraisingly over the stretch of bare land the messenger had spoken of, then he lifted a hand in a grasping motion towards the sky.

Mirroring his gesture, the earth at the center of the plot trembled and rose, pushed up by a shape forcing its way to the surface. A sharp ridge of dark grey rock, veined with spiked iron bands, broke the soil, gaining in height and width by the moment. Soon it was the top of an enormous arch, stretching to both sides until it almost filled the entirety of the field’s breadth, before swerving down in lateral pillars that grew and grew.

When the tremors finally stopped, an imposing, not to say menacing structure towered over the southern quarters of the city. A vast archway of stone inlaid with metal, many times as tall as the largest of the simple houses surrounding it and broader yet, cast a long shadow beside Narzhak’s own. Its sides rose in a smooth stretched semicircle and met seamlessly in an even rounded apex. It was as if a single pillar, so thick and sturdy that Anu himself could not have encompassed it in an embrace if even he had been a dozen times his size, had been bent with the flexibility of a fine steel blade and planted with its ends in the ground.

What was most singular about the structure, however, was its inner side. All along the interior of its span, large spines of rock and iron jutted out like centuries-old stalactites. Each of them was perfectly aligned towards the centerpoint of the arch. Together, they gave it an uncanny semblance of a gigantic disembodied mouth full of pointed teeth, a similitude that immediately leapt into one’s eye and was impossible to shake off.

”Something like this.” The god concluded his thought, and pointed at the ground near one of the archway’s feet. ”Take that.” Indeed, lying on the ground near the pillar’s base was a fragment of stone, similar to the tooth-like formations, but only about as large as a spear and ringed with a spiralling design of metal bands. It was uncertain whether it had been there before Narzhak had spoken.

Visibly awed the demigod marched quickly to retrieve the thing, taking it up in his hands to eye it's design with rivers of fire. ”Father, what is this?” he breathed.

”That’s what I was talking about.” Narzhak’s hand hovered over the top of the structure. ”It eats the spirit of disobedience. Some other things come off with it, too, so be careful about going through here.” A hook sprouted from an iron fingertip and slid under the gateway. ”Anything that does will think of nothing but following orders, as long as it breathes. Hold that piece, and you’ll be the one giving them. It can’t follow the borders of your reign anywhere,” he gestured towards the horizon, ”but maybe it’ll be a reminder that this place is the first in it.”

For a moment the ape was silent, glued to the superstructure that now dominated his city. The ramifications of his father's words where quicker to take hold. ”Father, a thousand blessings. To receive such a gift, I'm unable to fathom the amount of thanks.”

”You don’t have to.” The god’s massive head swayed sideways. The creature on his shoulder pushed what looked vaguely like a molluscoid eye on a stalk and dangled it towards the ground. ”All you need to do to show them is use it, well and often. Feed it timely, or it will hunger and speak too loud for our good.”

”Yes, Father.” the ape huffed, laying a hand on the cold metal structure. ”This one will wield it effectively.”

”That’s all it will need.” Narzhak turned an eye sidewards, gazing towards the buckling eastern horizon. ”You won’t be lacking heads on which to try it. Someone left things a throw that way some years ago, elaborate, but they know how to kill. You will find them, sooner or later.”

The ape followed his father's gaze but only found the city dominating his field of vision, nevertheless the titian’s words remained with him. ”An enemy to the east.” he murmured. ”If they attack Talemon they will know no mercy.”

”No use for that, but there’s more to such things." Iron fingertips tapped against each other with the sound of hills collapsing onto enormous gongs. ”A conflict is always an opportunity, more than anything else. Don’t waste this one."

”Word of wisdom this one will not forget.”

---

Kalgrun was not as he remembered it.

As Karamir flew overhead, he saw that much of the continent had been ravaged. Huge craters dotted the land, marking the sites where meteors had struck. Entire swaths of forest had been burned by fire, or withered away by unknown force. He could only hope that the Vallamir had been spared the worst of it.

It was more destruction than he had ever seen in his life, yet he felt numb. He had lost a father, he had ascended to godhood, he had been given new responsibility. All in the span of one conversation. It was almost too much to process. He could feel the raw power coarse through his veins. He could see the streams of raw mana flowing freely in the air. Even flying as high as he was, he could make out the shapes of surviving animals scurrying about. His potential was nearly limitless.

It was not worth the cost.

He would have given it all up to have Kalmar back. Yet Kalmar had chosen to die, and as usual there was no talking the old hunter down. Kalmar was gone. The Hunting Grounds, Kalgrun, and all the responsibilities those entailed had been left to him. If he wanted it. But did he want it? Was he ready?

Kalmar had asked Arya what kind of god she wanted to be.

Kalmar had not thought to ask that question to Karamir.

Now he had returned to a land he had not seen in decades. To see his people, whom he had never met. To deliver news they did not want to hear. He recognized most of the life and animals below him well enough, but they still felt foreign. He had been gone for too long. Part of him wanted to go back to the Eye of Desolation. To help Arya drive out those creatures. To settle into his new status as a demigod with someone who was also new to it. Maybe even...

He shook the thought off. It was Arya who had suggested he take Kalmar back to Kalgrun, and he knew that was what Kalmar would have wanted. There would be time for that after...

After he had seen to Kalmar's body. After he had established authority over Kalgrun. After he had met his brother Roog. After he had claimed the Hunting Grounds. After he had grown used to his new abilities. After, after, after... would there be time for anything at all?

Was this why his father was so grim? Was this why he had been ready to retire from the world?

He continued his flight, deeply troubled.

---

Hours later, he came upon the Central Plains, where he had been told his people could be found. Even here, meteors and craters dotted the land, yet it was not as bad as it was further south, and he could make out various camps and villages atop hills or alongside rivers.

Eventually the plains gave way to swamp, which in turn gave way to water, and soon he was at the Hunter's Eye. He circled around to the eastern edge of the island, until he spotted a familiar section of coast, and it was there that he landed. It was a place that he knew well.

It was where he was made.

Wearily, he gently laid Kalmar's body down on the sand, and went to sit on a nearby rock.

He imagined a scene before him. A younger, confused version of himself, sparring with a younger, more confident version of his creator. He recalled snippets of his first conversation.

This is life. I made you so you could experience it. In order to experience it, you must survive. And in order to survive, you must be able to defend yourself.

Why!?

Why. The question he had spent his entire life seeking an answer to, and he felt no closer to finding it.

The world has dangers. If you can't defend yourself, they will kill you.

But why? Why are there dangers!?

To make you stronger. To help you grow. Every challenge you overcome makes you more powerful. You can't see it now, but in time you will. If you want your life to be more than pain, you need to protect yourself.

Kalmar hadn't been wrong. He had suffered. But he had endured, and in doing so, he had learned. But still... was there a better way?

But what else is there!?

That is for you to find out.

He had found out. That there was suffering far worse than what Kalmar had inflicted on him. Diana's cruelty, Laurien's betrayal, Vrog's abominations. But there was joy as well. The power and freedom he had felt when he flew for the first time. The clarity and thrill he felt when Abanoc taught him. The comfort and happiness he felt from being near Arya. And there was still more for him to experience, but he would do so as a divine, rather than a mortal.

Another tear began to roll down his cheek, but he wiped it away. He had to be strong. He rose to his feet, and walked into the forest to gather leaves, branches, bark, and other kindling.

Arya had asked him to bury Kalmar, yet after some thought he realized that was not what Kalmar would have wanted. Animals would only dig up the corpse anyway, so it would need to be encased in some sort of structure, but that would be a waste of time, materials, and space. And even if the body could somehow be prevented from rotting... was this how he wanted to remember his father? Caked in blood, an eye, a hand, and half of his teeth missing? Clothes torn and ragged, a gaping hole through the chest?

No.

He emerged from the woods with armloads of supplies, and began to build a pyre.

---

The Pyre was complete. Kalmar's body laid atop it peacefully, bow placed over his chest. All that was needed now was to light the wood.

He held out a hand, and mana swirled around it. Then he conjured it into fire. Not a flickering spark, but a fist-sized ball which illuminated the night. What would have taken him months of training now came naturally. It was almost too easy.

He looked down at his creator one last time. "I'll never forget you..." he whispered softly, as he lowered the flame to the wood, and it immediately began to catch. He stepped away as it began to spread, and watched it burn in silence.

He was immediately disheartened by the fact that, while Kalmar's clothes and the wood he rested on were flammable enough, the flesh was not. Kalmar remained unburnt, even as fabric was scorched away and the wood turned black, then white. Karamir clenched his fist and cursed himself for a fool. The God of Cold, even while dead and stripped of most of his power, would not be burned by ordinary fire. He should have known better.

There was a gentle shake of brush and foliage behind Karamir and the pyre he had built for his creator. Out from the woods, padding forward on all fours, was the jet black form of Roog, son of Kalmar. The Wolf God’s eyes blazed in the light but there was hardly any fire to be seen. Several scratches and wounds were yet visible on his form, glowing and moonlit. Whether the Wolf had been watching for minutes or hours, Karamir could not know, but now Roog had revealed himself.

”A good end.”

Karamir turned to the newcomer, and realized he could sense the divine energy which emanated from its body. It took him only a moment to figure out who it was. “Roog?” he ventured.

”Correct,” responded the wolf as he strode closer, his gaze locked on that of Karamir’s. There was a slight limp in his stride and his shoulders were held low. ”You are Karamir. Our creator spoke of you, once. It is right, what you do.”

”Is it?” Karamir asked, turning toward the pyre. ”He is unburnt.”

Roog’s gaze wavered from Karamir’s, bronze eyes turning as well to the pyre of the First-Vallamir’s making. The hint of frost scarpered from the flames but, nevertheless, the man-god’s skin would not set alight. Unsurprising. Roog walked to the edge of the pyre, looking down upon Kalmar’s corpse; one dead father, as many mortals had seen and would see in their lives. A hallowed day, considered Roog, but one most bitter-sweet.

”He fought to the end, and lived a life worth living; your path was the right one. Now I will send him the rest of the way.”

Roog thought inwards, to that ever blazing furnace that was his divine heart, and in an instant his body set alight in spectacular black flames. The divine light of his celestial creator blazed on the cthonic hide of man-god one, the conflagration biting and snapping at the air. Gentle sparks from Roog’s hide jumped through the air before settling to nest upon the pyre, the pile of wood and brush catching light and slowly spreading the flame to Kalmar’s form. Roog watched as those black fires consumed his man-father’s form, flesh devoured slowly and hidden from view by the rising blaze.

”May you find a welcomed end in your next life, Father.”

Karamir watched their creator and father burn in silence, until the black fire had obscured the corpse completely. ”He died… content,” Karamir said, after a moment’s thought.

Roog looked to Karamir after a long moment of staring into the fires, eyes studying Karamir intently. At last he spoke, quietly but just loud enough to carry over the crackling of the flame.

”That, I expect, would be the only way he’d allow himself to die. I envy him for his freedom but loathe to see tomorrow with one less good First-Born to safeguard the days to come.”

Karamir nodded, continuing to stare into the flames. ”He wanted me to take his place.”

Roog’s eyes turned to slits as he gave Karamir a twice over; though he had heard of the man, the entity that would be the model for the Vallamir, he did not himself know him. Nevertheless, Kalmar’s will couldn’t be challenged nor did Roog wish to; he trusted his creator had chosen well. If his deeds today alone were something to go by, he was at least wise if nothing else.

”An acceptable alternative; I trust you will act with wisdom as you did today. I hope we may always be as brothers in this life, for the sake of all living things.”

Karamir nodded, looking past the flames and out across the water. It was strange, to not only meet one of his brothers in the flesh but to have that connection acknowledged. ”There is still a lot I need to do,” he said. ”I need to claim the Hunting Grounds. I need to inform the Vallamir and the Jotnar of our creator’s death. I need to assess what state they are in. Find out who their leaders are, what they know…” he sighed, before turning back to Roog. ”What about you? What will you do, now that our father is dead?”

”I will act on an ambition I believe our Father would have supported; through this I shall honor him and do right by the world.”

”What ambition is that?”

”I seek the Red Haired Woman that came to me in my dreams,” responded Roog, seemingly thinking inward to remember the vision he had been gifted with during his first death, [color=slategray]”From her I believe I will receive the answers I seek.”

Karamir furrowed a brow. ”Who is this woman?”

”I am not certain. I had intended to seek Kalmar’s wisdom on the matter; I believe her name may be Seihdhara, though, of this I cannot be sure.”

”Seihdhara…” Karamir said the strange-yet-familiar sounding name. ”Kalmar told me of all the gods upon my creation. I think she was one of them… I also don’t know if they ever met. Do you know where she is?”

”One of the First-Born? I should not be surprised . . . No, I have no clue where I might start my journey; I trust not on Kalgrun, however. If she did reside here, it would be reasonable to assume I would have found her already. She must reside elsewhere but now the answers will elude me even further.”

Karamir stroked his chin thoughtfully. ”The most straightforward approach would be to pray to her,” he said. ”Or try to find her sphere.”

Roog seemed to grind his teeth in thought before responding to Karamir, turning over the man’s words in contemplation. ”I do not believe my prayers will be heard. But findings her sphere would not require her. Surely there must be other First-Born with the knowledge of its location?”

”I’m sure there are,” Karamir nodded. ”Abanoc is the God of Recording. He sees everything that happens on Galbar. I’m sure he knows, but… he doesn’t like interfering in Galbar’s events. It might be worth asking him, though. Then there’s Arae - she’s the Goddess of Family, and considers the other gods to be siblings, so I’d be surprised if she couldn’t tell you something.”

”Mother-Goddess may be the first step; I know her and I imagine she will be amenable to my questions. Perhaps prayers to these gods may provide the answers I seek.”

Karamir nodded, and then rubbed the back of his head as his expression turned reluctant. ”I should also tell you about a place called the Infinite Maze.”

”Why?” Roog’s eyebrows rose with interest, watching Karamir’s expression intently.

”It’s the sphere of Eurysthenes, the God of Puzzles,” Karamir answered. ”And it connects to a number of other spheres as well. It’s how I first found Abanoc - I was walking, and then suddenly I was at his Observatory. If you need to find Seihdhara’s sphere, or meet new gods… it might be worth a try. Only problem is, it’s unpredictable. Arryn entered only minutes after I did, at the same place, but we never found each other. And while it only took me ten days to get out, it took Arryn months. There’s no telling how long it will take you. I wouldn’t recommend it, but it is an option.”

Roog considered this new information with apprehension; it was utterly against his nature to allow himself to be caged in such a manner. Nevertheless, to have the option available would be beneficial. Ideally he would find answers elsewhere but if all other options failed this would be his next step.

”Thank you, brother, your assistance is most appreciated. If ever you are in need, we are bound to such purposes together. It is as our father would have wanted.

Karamir nodded in agreement. ”If and when you leave, I have some requests.”

Roog’s ears turned to Karamir and his eyebrows visibly raised; requests were not something he expected.

”Requests?”

Karamir nodded, and found that he could not meet Roog’s gaze, as the unpleasant memories came rushing back. ”If you ever meet a woman named Laurien,” he said quietly. ”Be careful around her. Tell me exactly where she is, and do not trust her.”

”A simple request,” replied the Wolf, eyes flashing with curiosity, ”One I will gladly do for my brother. If I encounter her, I shall do as you wish.

”Thank you,” Karamir nodded yet again. ”For my second request… there is another woman named Arya. She recently became a demi-god, just like me. She is Orvus’s daughter, and Laurien’s sister, but she is not like either of them. She saved my life. If you somehow meet her, and she needs help, and you can spare it… will you do it?”

Roog seemed to contemplate the question more deeply then, the idea of helping someone he did not know and could not judge the morality of. Nevertheless, consideration had to be taken regarding whom made the request. ”If she is as you say, then I shall keep to your request; that is all I can swear to.

Karamir nodded. ”Thank you again,” he said, and then looked up at one of the flowing golden streams of power, that only he could see. ”There is something else I need to tell you.” He held a hand, and golden mana swirled above his palm, forming into a ball that then became visible. ”This is mana. Not many know of it, but it’s a source of power that gods and certain mortals can tap into. It lets them do… extraordinary things.”

”Mana?” Roog leaned in, eyes flaring from the golden light as his senses absorbed every detail of the cascading corona of energy, ”And what allowed you to claim this source of power?”

”I don’t know,” Karamir admitted. ”Abanoc told me of its existence, and I was able to use it. Then when our father gave me his divinity… I had a vision, of a strange type of dragon, and then somehow I became able to see it. I think… I’m now the God of Mana, if there wasn’t one already.”

”An interesting prize, to be sure; I have little doubt you shall use it rightly. May you hold to Kalmar’s principles, brother.

”You as well,” Karamir said. ”Good luck.”

”May the next time we meet be under brighter circumstances.”

With that Roog turned and loped back into the forest, his mind occupied with thoughts of distant places and a woman of red hair. What he had learned today would keep with him and, by all observations, Roog had gained a brother and ally for the loss of a father and creator.

Karamir watched him go, and then went back to watching the flames in silence.

---

Eventually, the fire burned itself out. When the smoke cleared, nothing remained but a pile of ash, and Kalmar’s Bow. Karamir retrieved it from the pyre’s remains, and brushed it off. He had thought it would be fitting if his father’s favoured weapon burned as well, yet found himself relieved that it was not. But it seemed different, somehow. More powerful. He would have to investigate that later.

With one hand he scooped up a fistful of ashes. He was a god, he could create, he reminded himself. He closed his eyes and a pouch formed around the small handful, with a string which he then put around his neck.

In some form, his father would always be with him.

He looked down at the rest of the ashes, piled on the beach, and called upon the mana in the air around him. The wind began to swirl, lifting them high into the air, and then scattering them so that they gently rained down upon the island and the water.

It was done. Kalgrun was Kalmar’s Ground, and so it was a fitting place for his body to be put to rest.

Karamir turned and walked back into the woods. There was more to be done.

---

---

"Chosen! Quick! Into the Temple!"

"No! What if it collapses? It will kill us all!"

"We should scatter into the woods!"

"Are you mad? Think of the children!"

The Chosen were in panic. While some stood yelling and arguing about the correct choice of action, others ran back and forth across the temple grounds, looking for friends, family members, or possessions. Some did indeed run into the temple. Others had already made their decision to abandon the place entirely, fleeing into the woods. All the while, desolation in its purest form rained from the sky. Somehow they had invoked the wrath of a mad god, and it was determined to doom them all.

Valys knew she had to take control of the situation, lest the group would break and fracture. "Chosen!" She shouted again, causing most to stop and look to her. The rest slowed their movements when they realized what the others were doing, and listened.

"Kalmar entrusted us to guard this place. We will not abandon it. The Temple will protect us, as we protect it, so everyone get inside. Quickly now!" She commanded.

At least half of the Vallamir complied immediately, filing into the large stone structures. Others stood and gaped with uncertainly, with a few gradually snapping out of it and moving to obey as well.

"Come now," Karlyn's voice rang out as he stepped beside Valys. "You think Kalmar didn't know something like this might happen? You think His Holy Site can't withstand a few falling rocks?" He shook his head in disapproval at the Vallamir who had not obeyed Valys's command. "I don't know about you, but I think our Creator is both smarter and stronger than that!" he declared confidently. His words had shamed some, and reassured others; now, all were moving to obey. Karlyn nodded to Valys, and the two followed the group inside.

---

Time passed. Day gave way to night. The Chosen were all in the Temple - those who hadn't abandoned it, anyway. Most sat on the cold stone floor, huddling with husbands, wives, friends, and children, as they whispered amongst each other. A lucky few had somehow already managed to fall asleep. Karlyn leaned against a wall, eyes closed, lips moving in silent prayer. Valys walked from group to group, asking about their mood and offering reassurances.

At some point Ewen returned with his team of hunters, carrying one of their own who had fallen victim to some unknown affliction which discoloured her skin. There was nothing the healer could do; none knew of any treatment that might save her. His husband stood by her, clutching her hand. Lena was nearby, assuring them both that she would be alright. Myla watched the door. Every now and then, someone new would arrive - they weren't part of the Chosen, but Valys ordered her not to turn anyone away.

Every now and then they would hear the crash of a fallen meteor; some of them alarmingly close. There was nothing anyone could do but hope that the meteors wouldn't hit, or that the temple would endure if one did.

Never before had any of them felt so helpless or uncertain. It was as if the world was ending.

Eventually, new arrivals stopped appearing, and most had succumbed to the Call of the Palace. Not Valys. She remained awake. She needed to be ready, in case anything changed. Karlyn and Lena had fallen asleep now, which they could not be faulted for - everyone, even Valys herself would need to sleep eventually - but Ewen and Myla were awake and vigilant.

The hours continued to slip by. And at some point, the wrath of the heavens seemed to relent. The crashes seemed to be less violent, more violent, and with greater periods of time between them. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. But it wasn't. Because at some point, the crashes had stopped entirely. And when Valys emerged blinking to the rising sun, she realized it was true: the meteors had stopped. The Cataclym was over. They were safe.

Thank Kalmar.

---

---

It was dark.

And yet, it was warm and cozy. Arms were wrapped around her and someone was running their hands through her leaves, sending chills down her spine. She felt herself smile, and even though her wide open eyes could catch nothing more than moving shadows in the darkness, she felt comfortable.

This was the body that the Eternal Tree had created for her, the body that had so lovingly been accepted in the Dream.

It was a beautiful life.

There was a scent of roses and Silver knew who it was. A large, bulky male that had his back covered in roses was shuffling up to her under the pile of cuddling Foreas. He gently brushed away the sleeping females crowding Silver and wrapped his hand around Silver, waist, hoisting her up to his wooden, featureless face.

He sniffed her and let her down.

Silver’s leaves quivered as she looked up at the large shadow that was the male with a grin on her soft, autumn-orange face. After a few moments, her grin subsided and she stood up. The male, whom she’d come to think of as Rose, immediately took a step closer to her in anticipation and then Silver began walking with Rose in tow, the earth rumbling slightly with each of his steps.

Eventually they had walked far enough from the Eternal Tree that its canopy didn’t hide most of the sun, and in a rather lush clearing, Silver found a large pile of leaves. She’d been visiting this place frequently over the last few weeks. It was, in a manner of speaking, her private space. A spot where she could freely experiment with her new body and abilities without other Foreas trying to cuddle her to sleep.

Rose stared at Silver for a few minutes as she in turn stared at the pile of leaves, and finally decided to walk off with his leafy, flowering head rustling happily.

Silver smiled and sniffed the air, taking in the scent of thirteen different flowers and the scent of the special plant fibre underneath the pile of leaves in front of her.

She took a minute to brush aside the pile of leaves and under the autumnal fallen foliage, was a carefully grown, seamless, completely organic and living, set of clothing.

The softness of the leaves that made up the skirt, leaves even longer than the swept back bipartite growing from her head, was unrivaled by any other Foreas. The durability of the plant was incredible, to the point that it could actually stand up to textiles in its own right, and most importantly, the scent was so delicious, so calming, that she was sure nobody would be hesitant to approach her now, even the shyest of Foreas.

And so she put on the prototypical attire and lied down on the grassy hill amongst the orange leaves, letting herself and her clothing soak in the sun.

As time went on, her clothing began to fit better against her shape, and it secured itself in place. It was perhaps a little bit of a cuddly, clingy dress, but nothing else could be expected of a Foreas-made item.

She caressed the leaves clothing her and closed her large, cloudy eyes, taking in a deep breath.

She would use the time she let the clothing grow used to her to practice other abilities. A very useful one was one she called Soul Sense. This one she developed after finding a foreign energy while floating in a river and infusing that energy with her larger-than-usual soul. The ability allows her soul to expand and, that way, she could gather information about the world without actually using her senses!

Silver exhaled and shivered as her spine tickled. And just like that, she could ‘see’ and ‘touch’ everything within that clearing at the same time. A furry, twitchy species of rodent was skipping along the upper branches of a tree thirty paces to her left; a buzzing insect was pollinating a uniquely large tulip thirteen paces over her head; and in the distance, Rose was warding off predators with his heavy footsteps and rustling leaves, she could even feel the spot where a particularly nasty animal had torn off some of his hardened bark, right under his right forearm. SIlver wanted to hug him.

And then a familiar presence came into the perimeter of her Soul Sense. One hundred and fifty feet over her head, the tall, beautiful humanoid that had meant and still meant so much to her, had appeared. Her heart skipped a beat and she sat up, eyes wide and sparkling. Suddenly, the world went dark and she returned to seeing only shadows and shapes.

She’d lost her focus, she realized, and after a deep, long breath, she could see again. Carefully, she stood up and hid behind the trees. The tall figure passed by rather quickly and Silver began tailing her. She kept her treading light, and whenever the figure looked in her direction she would blend in with the autumnal foliage.

All she wanted to do was come up to her and embrace her, but… She felt different. She’d changed, just like herself. Maybe things would be better off if she just avoided meeting her, Silver thought, maybe they weren’t meant to know each other in their new forms…

And yet she knew she couldn’t and wouldn’t stop herself from going up to her. As she stepped out of hiding, she realized they were in front of one of the many entrances to the interior of the Eternal Tree.

What was she doing here? Had this been her objective all along, the Tree? Had she been looking for her all this time?

She wondered all these questions as her leaves quivered and rustled and her cloudy eyes stared at Laurien.

The woman was surrounded by other Foreas, who all seemed to paw at the dark beauty. She wore a dark dress that seemed to flow together with her skin. and her hair twinkled with stars, as always. There was a smile upon her face, one of genuine affection as she pet the Foreas around her.

Silver merely watched, and resisting her impulse to go up to Laurien, sat down and brought her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them.

The Foreas were insatiable. Everytime one received affection, two more demanded it. And for everyone that demanded affection there were two more that gave it. The air was filled with the sound of rustling leaves, and eventually two large males approached the crowd from inside the Eternal Tree, watching the foreign woman closely.

”Oh how delightful you are.” Laurien purred, before walking over to the males with a following of restless females. She placed her hand upon the closest male, one with tulips on his back, and smiled again. ”A desire to protect, but also to be loved. Remarkable.” she said, floating up to gently caress the wooden face.

The male pawed at the ground for a bit and then lied down. Many of the smaller, humanoid females cuddled up to him as he did so, though the way they approached him was much more relaxed and composed than when they approached Laurien.

After a while, most of the attention had shifted from the foreign woman and only a few females remained near her, with the others having gone into the Tree.

Among those was Silver, who had not moved as she watched the scene unfold.

It was then that Laurien spotted her. A curious look fell upon her face as she floated towards the small Foreas who sat alone. The Foreas looked up at her and smiled warmly, then mouthed a single word, ’Laurien.’

The woman paused in mid air, before landing before the Foreas. She knelt down before her and asked, ”And how do you know my name, little one?”

’Chickadee.’

Laurien froze. Her eyes wide as she stared at Silver. ”S-Silver?” she said slowly and unsurely. Silver nodded and stood up. She pointed at her mouth and ears and shook her head.

It only took a moment before Laurien embraced her, with Silver returning the hug. The tall woman held her for a long time before pulling away and saying, ”How?”

Silver pursed her lips, and shrugged. The only reason she could hear Laurien speak was because of her Soul Sense being active, but even that wouldn’t give her speech. And how could she tell such a complex story without language? All she could do was look up at Laurien and tilt her head.

Laurien touched her face, and also tilted her head. ”A body without speech… Or hearing. Do you miss the old one?”

It’s not that she didn’t miss her old body, but… She liked her new one. She loved bathing in light, and she liked her own natural scent and softness. In the end, what could she do but shrug and smile up at Laurien? Maybe a change of topic is what they needed, and so Silver took one of the long autumn colored leaves of her dress and held it out for Laurien to touch, with a proud glint in her eyes.

Laurien blinked for a moment and then gently touched the dress. She rubbed it as she looked at Silver and nodded her head in approval. ”V-Very soft.”

Silver’s grin faded a little, and her leaves stopped their slight constant quivering. Laurien dropped her hand and looked down at the ground. The woman lifted her head up and asked, ”Are you happy?”

Was she happy? Silver stared at Laurien blankly, images of her past in Orvus’ farm flashing before her eyes, until she slowly began to nod. Laurien smiled and placed her hand upon Silver’s cheek again. ”I am glad.” she finally said.

They stayed like that for a few moments, until Silver pulled away and patted her leaves to settle them down. She closed her eyes and remained still. Little by little she experimented with her soul, expanding it and contracting it, stretching it, twisting it… All in an effort to somehow find a way to communicate to Laurien…

She felt a shiver behind her eyes as a silver thread manifested in her mental landscape. Slowly, she stretched her arms toward it and tugged at it. Immediately the thread went taut and Silver grit her teeth.

Outside her own mind and soul, Silver had been standing with her eyes closed for a minute, when suddenly she opened her eyes and looked straight at Laurien.

I've learned how to do the same thing Orvus could do! It's like this thread in my soul,when I grabbed it I felt a connection to you.

A surprised look fell across her face as Laurien listened to Silver. She brought her into an embrace once more as she stroked the small flower’s head. ”Your voice… Such a lovely voice.” she purred. Silver grinned and pressed her head further against Laurien’s hand, turning it side to side as her leaves rustled against and caressed the Demigoddess’ hand in turn.

What do I sound like? I cannot really hear myself, it’s like I’m thinking words directly into you. Also, am I as pretty as I used to be? It’s the one thing I’ve been really worried about. That maybe you wouldn’t like how I looked now...

”No no no, don’t think such thinks my love!” Laurien exclaimed quickly. ”You’re as beautiful as you always were, no matter what form you take, or how you sound. You are what they call a Foreas, Silver. A plant being. They are all so simplistically beautiful, it only seems right for you to join them.” she said softly.

Silver tilted her head at Laurien after pulling away from the embrace. This time, she turned around and shook her body a little before wrapping her arms around herself.

You know, when Li’Kalla allowed me limited control of the body, I… I-I saw bits and pieces, of her conversations with you. You’ve had children, Laurien?

”Silver… I… Yes. I did have children. You were… You were long dead my love, I never thought you would come back to me. H-How was I going to know?” she said, her voice forlorn.

The Autumnal Foreas deflated a little and tilted her head back to look up at a sky she couldn’t see.

Can I meet them? How old are they?

”I… Don’t know where they are. Arae took them from me when she cursed me, Silver.” Laurien said tearfully.

Silver’s leaves fell flat against her head, with her longer bipartite leaves going limp. A breeze whistled past the treeline surrounding the entrance to the Eternal Tree and caressed the bodies of the two females, one a plant and the other a mammal.

Slowly Silver let her arms fall to her sides, and she turned her body slightly to cast Laurien a side glance through her eyes, which were welled up with thick tears.

Laurien outstretched a hand towards her, but paused mid way. ”W-What’s wrong?” she asked, and Silver’s mouth fell slightly agape.

Someone took your children, your babies… And they cursed you… Why would someone do something so evil?

”Because she thought I needed to be punished for what I did. Yet, if she had truly cared to begin with, she would have tried to help before… Before it happened.” Laurien whispered.

Silver turned around and stared at Laurien, wiping her silent tears. Some other Foreas peeked out from inside the Tree and looked at the curious two.

... What did you do, Laurie?

She tilted her head and blinked at Silver. "I tried to avenge you my love. Orvus killed you, so I stabbed him but before I could kill him, an avatar was born. An evil thing but since the meteors have stopped falling… I think he met his fate. But now you're here and alive, and it's wonderful. All my prayers have been answered." Laurien said.

You… Stabbed him? But, he was my friend, and your father. You tried to ‘avenge’ me, even though I was happy he offered me such a peaceful way out. Laurien… What happened to you?

Silver’s leaves prickled up a little and she shook her head slowly, her expression turning neutral.

Laurien narrowed her eyebrows. ”Why are you shaking your head?” she asked suddenly.

Silver turned her face away and closed her eyes.

Because you told me you stabbed my friend, the man who gave me the body you enjoyed so much. The body that I lived in for months, waiting for your return after you left without saying goodbye! You tried to kill my best friend. And you didn’t do it to avenge me, because you KNOW his death wouldn’t have honored me in the slightest.

A shocked look fell upon her face and she said nothing for several moments. ”I did say goodbye… You were asleep and you looked so peaceful…” she began before Silver interjected.

You should’ve woken me up. I would’ve gone with you, I would’ve protected you from whoever did this to you. I would’ve died to safeguard the Laurien I know, the one who actually feels and gives love.

Laurien recoiled. She then spoke, her voice slowly growing angrier. ”That Laurien died when her father told her that he killed her only friend. That Laurien died when she realized her entire life she was nothing but an errand girl for a god who was too afraid to seek the one he wanted most. That Laurien died… That Laurien died when she realized her life was meaningless. You have no idea what I went through all those YEARS Silver! For decades I lived with people who only saw me as the sister to the one they truly loved. I had no one, but you. And you were dead! DEAD!” she said standing up. ”And now you’ve been given another chance, one with me, and you berate me for the actions I took… How could you?”

Silver emulated a sigh, but of course she couldn’t inhale or exhale so it was completely silent. After that, she walked up to Laurien and wrapped both her hands around one of her lover’s. And what did you expect? For me to praise you for trying to kill the one who gave me the life and body that allowed me to meet you? For me to bend down and kiss the ground you walk on? Laurien, we’re lovers, aren’t we? And… Lovers want to help their other half be a better version of themselves each day, don’t they?

”You… You want to help me?” she said shakely, her voice reminiscent of a scared child.

Silver’s leaves rustled and she smiled reassuringly, Yes! You’ve been alone for so long! That would make anyone go insane. I know that, I understand, because I was trapped in darkness for a lifetime as well and the only thing that kept me sane was company. I know the cure to your predicament, you know.

”W-What’s that?” she said, a tinge of desperation in her voice.

The ultimate bandage to any broken relationship. Apologize. Apologize to anyone you wronged, even if you don’t mean it. Even if they don’t accept your apology, the relationship will be in a better spot than before and you can rest easy knowing you did all you had to do.

Her face went blank and she said nothing for a long time. Eventually, Laurien let her hand drop from Silver’s. She looked away and said, ”I… I can’t.”

Silver’s smile vanished and she let her arms drop as well.

... Why?

Why should I apologize… When they were the ones who wronged me?” she said, looking at Silver misty eyed.

Because... Silver pursed her lips, Because they think the same thing. No one wants to trample over their own pride, Laurien. Someone has to take the first step.

She sighed. ”For the last few years I've felt lost… I questioned everything about myself and I realized something… I was afraid. I always thought… Doing what I did was the right thing… Perhaps I still believe it. He always loved Arya more, so much so he created me just to go look for her. I shouldn't blame her… I shouldn't… But I see her face anymore and I get irrationally angry. I stuck by her side for years with the Dreamers and I could tell they only let me stay because of her. They didn't love me like they loved her. And then Li'Kalla came to the Eye and it brought up old feelings and I thought she would love me but she couldn't… Perhaps she does now, but then I was lost in dark thoughts… But now, they feel so normal." Laurien breathed. "I've become a Demigod, did you know that? My powers are of desire and I can see yours and all of theirs…" she waved her hand at the Foreas. "You should pursue them with passion my love, but I fear I cannot join you, no matter how much either of us want. I'm sorry."

Silver took a step back, her heart suddenly burning and aching. She struggled to stay on her feet, and in a moment she lost control of her Soul Sense and watched as Laurien’s form became a blurry shadow. At that moment, she wished for nothing more than to be able to breathe so she could be breathless, she wished for a voice so she could be speechless. As it stood, her vision wasn’t even clouded up when tears began to flow.

And despite her heart having just been ripped out, as her tears became like rivers down her pale cheeks and nose, a shaky smile graced her face.

Demigoddess, huh? I understand… I understand, Laurien, we should walk our own paths. I do. I do, and yet it hurts so much... Silver shut her eyes tightly and doubled over with a hand grasping the organic attire covering her chest.

Laurien quickly fell to her knees before Silver, catching the small foreas in her arms. ”I’m sorry… I’m sorry I hurt you.” she took a ragged breath.

Silver just shivered and twitched in Laurien’s embrace, resting her face against the demigoddess’ shoulder. She lost grasp of the thread connecting her to Laurien and went mute. After a few moments, another breeze blew past them and the earth rumbled with the gentle, rhythmic steps of a great hulking male. Roses on his back, he made his way to the weeping Silver and nudged the two smaller being with its featureless face.

As Silver pulled away from Laurien’s grasp, Rose softly grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up onto his neck, and then he walked into the Eternal Tree, past a few curious Foreas peeking out from behind bushes and trees.

Laurien watched Silver go, a single tear falling down her cheek. She then blinked, and collected herself before standing up. ”Goodbye… Silver…” she whispered, knowing her words to be final.

She then floated up, far up to hover over the tree. It was were Aaldir waited for her. A constant reminder, but at least he wouldn’t leave her, not yet anyways…

“We shall be pure of heart and strong of body…” Fu Lai’an said in a bubbly voice. Before her a large crowd of pygmy children echoed her words.

“Untainted by doubt and never lacking honor…”

“Untainted by doubt and never lacking honor!”

“Guided by the Mẹta, core the World Pillars--”

“Guided by the Mẹta, core the World Pillars--”

Fu Lai’an raised a finger to signal to the children that attention here was especially critical. “Might in the face of one's work; Guile in the face of the enemy; Vision in face of the future.”

The children chimed after: “Might in the face of one's work; Guile in the face of the enemy; Vision in face of the future.”

Fu Lai’an nodded proudly. “Each must strive to embody all three as an ideal for prosperity.”

The children sang along: “Each must strive to embody all three as an ideal for prosperity!”

“For if any is weak in a single one it may falter the whole.”

“For if any is weak in a single one it may falter the whole!”

“So all must strive for a thousand times for a thousand years.”

“So all must strive for a thousand times for a thousand years!”

Fu Lai’an patted one of the closest ones and it flashed her an eager smile. “Now remember, kids - unto the very end of eternity.”

The children threw their hands into the air. “Unto the very end of eternity!”

It had been a number of months since Narzhak’s visit. Since then, Anu had demanded redoubled efforts into a total overhaul of state control over the pygmies. The Mẹta, also known as the Oath, was only one of the steps on the way to a nation devoted entirely to the betterment of the collective.

Within weeks of the visit, the King’s officials had nationalised every rice paddy, assuming full control of production, collection and redistribution of rice. All the farmers were employed with a salary consisting of ration chips, with additional bonuses in store for the hard-working. Management of the farms were given to the very first foremen - the first generation of which had been selected based on excellent conduct as a citizen of Talemon. Such was the temporary system while the Council drafted proper examination processes. At this stage, however, the introduction of the system faced a number of protests, especially from the farmers whose homes were taken from them. While the ration chip salary was higher than what they would normally receive from a harvest, it did not outweigh the drawbacks of losing their land. These protests, however, were immediately portrayed as a betrayal against the greater nation and punished accordingly, and within a year, they had disappeared.

Another source of protests was the relatively immediate implementation of the Ntọala, the castes. To ensure maximum efficiency on every level of society, citizens would now dedicate their lives to perfecting their crafts and skills - much in the same way the Servants were organised:

Carrying the society on their backs were the Laala caste - the builders, farmers, engineers, potters, claydiggers; they were those who worked the industries of Talemon. Their caste was the largest.

Protecting the society from the many new beasts of the plains and jungle were the Ogun - the warriors, warmasons and mansa of the Talemon. Their numbers were few, especially the mansa, but warleader Qiang Quan was certain that both men and mana would appear in the future, allowing for a much expanded military.

Managing the society fell to the Oludari - the administrators, merchants, diplomats, bureaucrats and overseers. This was the second smallest caste, consisting only of the trial foremen and a few personal servants and assistants to the councillors.

Finally, those who lead the society made up the Oba caste, and theirs was an exclusive position. The caste had merely five members, those being the four councillors - and His Majesty.

Initially, this quick overhaul and rigidisation of society fueled great outrage - especially since children were taken from their parents at the age of ten to apprentice for the various crafters, farmers, warriors or bureaucrats, depending on what they showed an affinity for. As with those who protested against nationalisation of farmlands and industry, these rebels were dealt with accordingly. The will of Anu would not be denied.

However, the Council quickly saw that this system had great room for expansion. Furthermore, the clay pits on the Talemonese side of the river were running dry. Crossing Beihe would require vessels akin to that of His Lordship, but sophisticated boats required tools they simply had no concept of. Much could be achieved with sticks and stones, but it would be impossible to make ships in Jiangzhou’s image with such primitive tools. With these three points in their mind, the council approached His Majesty in the second year.

“Your Majesty,” Zhu Rongyuan began. “The people are at last beginning to adjust to His Majesty’s philosophy of the World Pillars. Great prosperity will be within Your mighty grasp in time. However, a number of points remain to be addressed.”

Fu Lai’an nodded. “The Pygmy population number much too few, Your Majesty. At their current rate of reproduction, it will take decades, if not centuries for Tal Eren to become the jewel of might and wealth we all dream it to be.”

Yong Cai pinched her chin ponderously. “While on the subject of wealth - additional claypits must be prospected. We are certain there are more on the other side of Beihe, perhaps by the tributaries running down great Qiangshan. However, to cross back and forth, with clay no less, we will require ships.”

Qiang Quan crossed his arms over his chest. “His Majesty’s warmasons can lend their hands in such an effort. The lions have moved further into the Knucklelands, and we can safely spare a small number to assist the civilians.”

Yong Cai nodded. “Thank you, warleader. What does His Majesty think?”

The big king rolled one his locks in his hand. ”I can exert some power to boost our numbers. No easy task but it can be done.” he acquiesced, nodding towards no one in particular. ”Can river-worthy vessel built with our current resources?”

“Well, our tools are insufficient to make great vessels, but…” Yong Cai tapped her chin. “I reckon we could get by by tying logs together with vines. We have seen that even great trunks can float on the river during floods - if we were to build a platform of them, we could at least create something that would let us float. Pygmies will need to paddle with their hands for thrust, however.”

”Could they handle the weight of clay and men without capsizing?”

“That will have to be tested,” the master architect responded.

”Do so.”

Yong Cai bowed deeply. “Right away, Your Majesty.” She turned to some servants and delegated the order further. Qiang Quan instructed his own to ready a number of warmasons, too. Zhu Rongyuan approached the king a little closer and bowed.

“Your Majesty, regarding the population numbers…”

”Speak.” he said without looking.

Zhu Rongyuan bowed his head deeper than usual. “His Majesty is of divine blood. In order to truly get His civilisation going, there is an urgent need for additional Pygmies. This servant is much too rude for even considering this question, but… Does His Majesty possibly have a way to bend the rules of nature so that His people may grow to be much more numerous in the near future?”

Golden disks landed on the servant, with neither hostility nor compassion. ”Cherished Zhu, I bend nature to my will, so is my birthright.” Iron-scepter in hand the ape rose. ”To me, we make for the city’s edge.”.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Zhu Rongyuan said and followed along after. As did the other three councillors.

As they walked the city's main thoroughfare, Pygmies kowtowed by the tens before their king, it wasn't long at all before the vast stretch of plains opened up before them, only broken in the distance by the farmlands and river.

Anu looked upon the land for a moment, then nodded. With a heave the king raised his ironspike high and drove it into the ground in one smooth motion. It sunk deep, nearly half the thing disappearing into the grass. An instant later the ground began to quake, the earth before them becoming like dough, soft and moldable. From will alone shapes grew rose from the much, all of varying heights and visages, all pygmies. Before long the shaking ceased, and outside the city stood a full cohort of flesh and blood.

The ape heaved a breathe. ”Welcome our new citizens.” he sighed, looking at the council and nodding towards the newborn adults, then padding back down the mainstreet. ”And someone bring my scepter.”

A pygmy servant quickly came over with the Narzhakian scepter. The councillors began to inspect and divide the adults into the Laala and the Ogun castes based on builds. Zhu and Fu took a number for themselves to serve in the Oludari. Zhu then approached the king, bowed and said, “His Majesty has once more proven His divinity. We are eternally blessed to be governed by such a magnificent being.” His watery eyes scanned the crowd. “... Our population has multiplied significantly. This servant will need to assess the contents of the granaries again and recalculate rations…” He eyed Anu with determination burning in his gaze. “This servant recommends the majority go to the farmlands.”

The giant pursed his lips, gazing upon the crowd himself. ”Divide them as you see fit.” he ordered.

“As His Majesty wishes.”

---

In order to avoid mass starvation, the rations for each pygmy was reduced to little more than the scrapings required to survive. Odd was it not that the overall health and strength of the nation deteriorated somewhat, and some of the older pygmies began to fear a return to the Hard Times - the time before Shengshi had blessed them with food safety. Quickly, a program was initiated at the order of His Majesty - a project that occupied much of his own time with study into his divine power, the abilities of the mansa, and the attributes of his people. Talemon needed workers - even more than they already had. Deep in the recesses of Tal Eren they worked. Mansa; having learned the ways of world-bending by will of word alone thanks to the guidance of the Dragon, constructed spells that warped and twisted natural flesh into something different. Zhu catalogued the working ones into spell lists while Anu and a number of servants took pygmy flesh and his own ichor and joined them together in a basin pit. Deep in the belly of the capital thousands of abominations where sired from the matrimony, beasts without intelligence, monsters with more eyes then teeth and demons with more heads then eyes. All were slain, returned, and reconstituted again until after months of intense labor and bloodletting, progress was made. A hominid, albeit misshapen, was synthesized with the right amount of parts. Unfortunately intelligence wasn’t up to standards. Tweaks were made to the spell list and experimentation went on. With a years work errors were strained from the process until a spell list promising consistency had been synthesised. A template for the most basic of worker, short and stocky with a fur shorter than that of a Pygmy and intelligence affording them the ability to perform any sort of task and a loyalty and obedience so deep self-preservation meant nothing if commanded otherwise. Tests began to be run. Tests Anu meant to see the results of himself.

”Your Majesty.” a pygmy guard said as evening began its descent on the city. The king paid him mind as he crossed the threshold of the temple’s lower levels.

Nowhere near as large as palace, the Temple of Chains the mighty king erected himself was nevertheless great in size. A large plaza open and empty encircled it's centerpiece, a box-like structure of clay and jutting wooden logs, simple and elegant yet a menacing structure in it's own right. Yet the complex only served as crown atop the factory of flesh active below.

Anu moved with a sense of purpose, striding through the main fire-lit corridor large enough to accommodate him comfortably. In his mind’s eye the pit revealed itself, complete with the core serving as the trunk and the main corridors branching off it, beyond the darkened archways of the various secured entrances, as its limbs. There didn't seem to be any reason to why a corridor was placed where it was, or given the length that it had, they just appeared to have sprouted organically off the core as needed, created when the pit was dug from the earth by his divine will. Despite it all, its order was more than clear.

A sudden gust of fetid air swirled up the core from far below and the contingent following Anu found themselves grimacing at the foul smell it carried to their nostrils, the king remained unperturbed moving forward until he was stepping off the final stair onto the packed earth of the core's floor.

Before him sprawled the core, a massive box, with the corridor he was now stepping in, running along its top in the form of a broad walkway that bridged the vast space. A number of guards strode along the walkway, their attention on the space below. That space was further divided into a number of individual chambers, a number of which were pens, regular squares divided from each other by heavy stone walls, with narrow passageways grouping the square pens into blocks of six.

A number of slightly larger pens stood against the far wall, somewhat separated from the rest by both a passageway and a heavy wall. Here magic was at work, a handful of mansa grimly at task creating Ikhobo–the stocky hominds that had been perfected in the last few weeks–from the primordial mixture of flesh and godblood that filled massive pools. Together, they formed a vast grid, regularly patrolled by a dozen guards.

A thin pygmy approached Anu from the catwalk and kowtowed. ”Your Majesty.” she greeted in a soft breath.

”Rise, taskmaster. Has the first batch been prepared?” She did so.

”Yes, your Majesty. Please follow me.” Quickly she set off across the main walkway and into another entrance that's wound down into a great room were an entire cohort of Ikhobo stood stark naked. Zhu was already there, inspecting them himself.

“Ah, Your Majesty,” the councillor said with a deep bow. “Come, come - these servants are certain His Majesty will find the result to be exquisite.” He gestured to the cohort.

Hands behind his back, the big king strode down the line, his eyes critical as he examined the new slaves. Hands clasped at their front, heads thrown back proudly, and their legs separated in parade stance, the Ikhobo were imposing creatures, ready to serve in any capacity.

”Do they meet your approval, Your Majesty.” the taskmaster inquired.

The ape grunted. ”Marginally.” he replied, gazing back down the like. ”How quickly are the pits working now?”

”At full-capacity, Your Majesty. We should have a second cohort by morning.”

Anu nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. ”What say you, Zhu? Are they to standard?”

“We tested them in the clay pits yesterday. They are perhaps a little slow to adapt to new situations - we had one be crushed underneath a rockslide and it took a considerable time before the others elected to aid it. However, there is no doubt as to how capable they are as labourers.”

”Maybe some added intelligence would do them good. But as long as they do their job, little else matters.”

“Intelligence may be added later. For now, this cohort will be shipped across the river to work.”

”So be it.” the ape agreed and nodded towards the taskmaster.

She kowtowed. ”At once, Your Majesty.” Immediately she and a cadre of guards went marching the Ikhobo out of the hall.

”Might we set on the first set of deviations?” he huffed, glancing at his councilman.

“Our attempts to alter the template have been,” Zhu drew a shameful breath, “most unsuccessful so far. Beyond the simple ikhobo, any immediate deviations have resulted in grotesque, misshapen creations. This servant’s afraid more research is required.”

Anu guffed, his laugh like crashing waves. ”Failure is only a stepping stone, as long as you don't die, it is just another step. Come, we begin immediately.”

---

While Anu and Zhu dedicated themselves to research, Yong Cai and Qiang Quan were experimenting with rafts along the banks of Beihe.

In the beginning, these were little more than pygmies clambering to trunks and doing their best to paddle across the river. Needless to say, this did not work. The next project involved tying together trunks using jungle vines. This worked better - at least it floated - but still it required one or two pygmies to push it from behind in order to gather thrust. By the end of the year, rafts sizeable enough to carry up to three pygmies with two more doing the paddling had been constructed. These began to bring workers over to the other bank of Beihe. Slowly, but surely, adequately numbrous worker teams began to gather on the bank, using sticks and stones to sample and prospect the mud. Upon inspection, Yong Cai found that it was of quite good quality, much like the clay on the opposite bank.

“Set up camp and start transporting clay back across. Oh, and tell those on the opposite bank to keep improving the rafts. I will not have any of that precious clay lost into Beihe, is that clear?”

“Yes, Master Architect!” the elected foreman answered and went on to bark orders at the rest. Soon enough, lay-tos were erected against the many trees, and a simple perimetre was set by the warriors guided by Qiang Quan. The jungle along the bank was, much in the same way as the clay, similar to its cousin on the opposite side of the river. However, as the warriors noted, the air felt different - wilder, savager. A faint tinge of sulphur clung to the air, and from the mountains far to the north, occasional beastly echoes rung out through the aether.

Still, though, the clay made its way back to the city without too many issues beyond the occasional sinking. After a while, the clay pits moved further and further north, until they reached the Qiangshan tributaries. In the fourth year, it was there the Talemonese fate was forever altered.

Yong Cai had just gotten back to the new claypit camps after a quick retreat to the capitol when one of the workers came running up to her and bowed.

“Master architect! We have uncovered a strange, green stone in the rock by the mountain!”

Yong Cai blinked. “A green stone? That doesn’t sound like clay at all. What are you doing up in the mountains?”

The worker straightened herself back up. “This one and some others went to prospect higher up along the tributaries - the clay there is odd, and the water blinks at us when we stare into it. Up there, we found this green stone.”

Yong Cai furrowed her brow. “Is it jade?”

“What is jade, Master Architect?” the worker inquired.

“Nevermind,” Yong Cai replied and cleared her throat. “Bring this servant to it - and have the warleader dispatch a small warband to escort us.”

“Right away, Master Architect,” said the worker dutifully and jogged off into the camps. Yong Cai pinched her chin in thought as she tried to align the description of ‘green stone’ with anything she had previously heard of. However, nothing she had observed aboard Jiangzhou, with the except of jade and emeralds, matched such a description. As their escort came and they moved towards the area in question, she pondered all the while at the nature of this material.

The journey to this the pit in question was long - so long that Yong Cai doubted that it was particularly effective. It took them a day and a half to reach the beginning of the hills, but upon discovering what the pygmies had found in those prospection pits, Yong Cai took back all her doubts.

“Send for more workers immediately, and begin hacking this stone apart.”

The pygmies got to work, but their leader approached Yong Cai with a curious look. “With all due respect, Master Architect, what is it that has been found here?”

The master builder scooped into her hand a number of small green specks from the sandy clay at her feet through which could be spotted additional stripes of the same jade colour. A smile formed on her lips. “This colour matches that of His Lordship’s tripod pots if they sit too long without proper maintenance.” She pocketed the grains. “What we have found, worker, is copper.”

---

The city was abuzz as the first coffers of green and red stones were brought to the palace in clay basins carried between two and two. Yong Cai spear-headed the group and entered the palace, kneeling down before her king.

“Great Majesty, this servant has brought to You a gift from the mountain.”

The demigod readjusted himself in his throne to face the servant, passively signaling the cadre of administrators to kowtow and disperse. ”A gift? Present it, cherished Yong.”

The clay tray was brought before the great ape, presenting for him a pile of green and brown chunks embedded in cruder stone. Yong Cai picked one up and offered it to the king. “There is no doubt, Your Majesty - this is copper, a metal. If worked, we can finally replace our stone and wood-tipped spears with sensible weaponry; our crude and lowly stone tools with those forged through flame.”

”Copper.” Anu repeated, taking the ore and lifting it too the light. ”How quickly can we implement it.”

“We have already begun research into harnessing its power. As we speak, the draft kilns are being used to test the melting point of this metal. Within a month, we should be able to work it.”

Nodding he handed the ore back to the councilmen. ”Good, I want the Ogun outfitted as soon as possible. Good work.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

---

The sixth year had come around, and Zhu Rongyuan officially declared the rations were to return to normal. The farmlands had been expanded to account for the enormous population growth three years ago, and now they could finally provide for the people the amount of food they were due. As a result, the population growth broke out of stagnation and production skyrocketed. Copper was brought across Beihe to Tal Eren in great loads. The rafts had improved considerably over the last three years, too; instead of needing pygmies to physically push them in the water, the sailors instead used long sticks to serve as oars, but had to push the rafts themselves once they reached deeper waters where the oars didn’t reach the bottom. As a result, however, the industrial districts’ productivity had bloomed. The Talemonese forces were outfitted with copper-tipped weaponry. The once-humble camp on the opposite bank of Beihe had become its own establishment, complete with farms, worker barracks and more. Additionally, new buildings were constructed which offered commodity goods in exchange for certain salary chips. For good work, Pygmies could now earn clothing chips, weapon chips, animal chips and jewelry chips - all of which could be traded in at the state storage houses in exchange for the respective goods. Anu and the Council had researched new methods of using animal skins and plant fibers to make clothing, and now the Pygmies wore woven clothing. Great scarfs and blankets with beautiful patterns donned everyone in Tal Eren. Anu had sent his councillors out in search of something to break the monotony of the plant fiber colour, and with the demigod’s help, they had found it: Crushing all manner of fruits, plants and insects and mixing them out with animal pee, the fabrics took on a myriad of colours which lasted for years. The weaving skills began to share more and more intricate patterns, many of which denoted great deeds, feats and honours granted to the individuals, in addition to patterns denoting profession and caste. Those who lived closer to the warm north and the jungles switched the blankets for loincloths and instead cut their accomplishments into their skin as beautiful scars. However, the Pygmies were not limited anymore to just beautiful clothing:

About two years ago, the copper diggers had discovered that the glistening rivers the rumours had spoken so fondly about were actually full of a golden substance - one the colour of their king’s eyes. Naturally, this material was gathered and presented before the great ape. Shortly thereafter, it was declared a sacred metal, to be held in highest regard. Some was shaped into jewelry, but most importantly, all of it was hoarded.

That was until a small scouting band came to the palace of Tal Eren one day and knelt before their king.

“Your Majesty,” said their leader, the one known as Okonkwo. He had been tasked with setting up a forward stronghold to the east and secure Giant’s Bath as a safe and sacred religious hub for the Talemonese empire.

The big king set aside his stack of reports but didn’t look up from them. ”Yes?” he grunted in response.

“These ones bring news His Majesty has awaited: Other creatures - similar to us - roam this continent. Far to the east, there exist giants like stars and monsters of flame.”

This caught the ape’s attention. ”Others? Has contact been established?”

Okonkwo nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty, although the monster of flame seem unwilling to maintain it. They are savage and wild - unfit for prosperous relations. The starborn, however… These ones understood not their language, but it was clear from the way they eyed this one’s medallion,” Okonkwo held forth the gold disc around his neck, which was the mark of an officer of the Ogun, “that they have an eye for His Majesty’s holy tears.”

”A greedy lot.” Anu surmised. ”Shore up a defense against these demons of fire, I am unsure of our forced capabilities against them just yet. Alert the Siwen to their presence as well, as well as these starborn and their interest in the tears.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Okonkwo boomed and him and his followers saluted the king. A day or so later, they had gathered Qiang Quan, thirty warriors, eight warmasons and two mansa. Together, they spent the next month or so travelling to the Giant’s Bath with a small pot of gold and enough weapons to defend a small perimetre. There, they sat up a small camp and sent out scouts every night to look for the monsters of flame. In that same manner, they sent emissaries to the starborn strangers carrying gold. The emissaries inspected what the Nebulites had to offer in return.

However, very little of it actually seemed appealing to the Pygmies: all they had were exotic animals and stone carvings - nothing that could match the beauty of Anu’s tears. The emissaries returned to the camp with disappointing news every day - whatever the strangers had to offer, it paled in comparison to what the Pygmies already had. That was until the strangers one day after many weeks came offering one of their own to the expedition’s commanding officer.

“No, I will not take her. As His Majesty’s advisor, this servant has no time for galbarian pleasures,” Qiang Quan said with the shake of his head. The strangers had been brought to the camp to display their gift, but the warleader seemed uninterested. “Although,” he suddenly said and looked at Okonkwo, “if this servant’s lieutenant would like this gift, he shall have it.”

Okonkwo blinked and stepped over to inspect the strangers’ gift closer. She was shorter than her peers, though still at least as tall as Okonkwo was. Her shape was lean, soft, frail - it was evident that she had never worked a day in her life. However, that weakness was made up for with the most captivating beauty the Pygmy had ever seen. He reached out to touch her face. The girl looked away a little before the two locked eyes. Okonkwo was already married to another, but this… This was too good an offer to pass up. This would be his claim to greatness.

“She satisfies this one. What do you reckon she is worth?”

The others shrugged. Qiang Quan tugged at his sandy chin. “A fistful of tears, perhaps?”

“A whole fist, huh?” Okonkwo mumbled and ran his eyes up and down the girl again. “... Then I hope she won’t run away in the night. Do it.”

One of the emissaries bowed, unlidded the pot of gold in her hands and scooped from it a fistful of gold chunks and nuggets. The strangers who accepted it looked almost enchanted by its sheen and colour. They said something in their odd tongue, bowed and left the camp alongside the emissaries and some guards. The girl remained, looking rather much like a diamond among coal chunks, there where she was surrounded by Pygmies. She was examined thoroughly, the extent of the tests strangely seeming not to bother her. In fact, it was as if she had been well prepared for this whole ordeal, and while she appeared to be a little shy, it was suppressed by evident training.

The Pygmies marveled, and more than a few began to dream of the possibilities of owning one for themselves. Perhaps, if these strangers could be persuaded to trade more for a few extra tears…

Following that first transaction, the trade between the two blossomed. Gold trickled down the Natal from the Giant’s Bath, and Nebulite concubines were shipped along Beihe back to Talemon. Soon, these were distributed to the members of the Oludari, as motivation and reward for their work within city and labour management. To contain this growing enthusiasm for trade, the humble outpost at the Giant’s Bath was expanded with permanent storage houses, defensive ditches, local clay kilns and pits, farms, and an expanded garrison. Along the river Beihe and the increasingly clearer path through the savannah and the jungles, simple waystations were set up to save the traders the need to bring a load of supplies every time. In the beginning, these were sparse and meagre - having to produce their own food which they then had to give to the traders; however, as time passed and new systems were put in place, the larger waystations were also supplied by independent caravans from the capital. These brought grain, fish and the all new animal products of the savannah and the jungle: With Anu’s aid, the pygmies had learned to domesticate the continent’s boars, jungle’s water buffalo and the savannah’s horse. All these produced milk, meat and hides for the Pygmies, and this produce was refined into products.

Soon, the trade post at the Giant’s Bath, named Biashara, grew from a couple of tents into a bustling marketplace where auctions for Nebulite concubines were held daily. Talemonese leather, gold and pottery were exchanged for the most beautiful and handsome individuals the southern power had to offer, and the Nebulites took it all ravenously. However, merely after two years of this exchange, the heads of Tal Eren concluded that the Pygmy empire shouldn’t give away their gold so cheaply. So, little by little, they choked the stream until no more gold passed through Biashara. This devastated the local businesses, as the other products have always been bought in addition to gold - never by themselves. Furthermore, back in their far off home, the Nebulites had learned to work clay into pottery by copying the Pygmies, so there was no longer any reason to buy it.

No matter how hard the Pygmies tried, no Nebulite slaver would sell them concubines for meagre leather goods. It was as if the tables were about to turn on who had the upper hand in this trade agreement.

That was until there appeared a new commodity in Biashara, one which could match the Nebulite concubines in value and could be mass produced back in Talemon: the Ikhobo.

At first, the Nebulites seemed skeptical. They, too, already had slaves, but the limited lingual exchange between the Pygmies and the starborn revealed that they were quite unsatisfied with the Dari overall - they were slow to breed, prone to revolt and expensive to feed. As it turned out, the Ikhobo provided a fantastic alternative, especially now that a large workforce was needed promptly to finish this mysterious building project they always went on and on about. As such, the concubines were bought in exchange for ikhobo slaves.

These slaves dominated the market, their stocky build, thoroughbred loyalty and augmented endurance proved to be more than attractive to the starborn. These models were outdated in Talemon and fazed out for a more efficient agricultural model known as the Ikhobo-Mde or the Growers. These slaves vastly outclassed the previous during testing, their greater height dwarfing that of a Pygmy and additional arms improved field work efficiency almost tenfold. These models were quickly mass-produced while the Ikhobo where sold or entered the construction sector.

Thankfully, none of that was shared with the Nebulites. Guile in face of the Other, after all - to know the Pygmies were selling them outdated slaves nearing the end half of their lifespans was sure to sour their moods. Biashara flourished and became the second largest town after the great Tal Eren.

Back home in the capitol, the population was further booming. The Pygmies, growth stunted for five years after their population had been quadrupled, would be held back no more. Children had been born by the tens to several families - the agricultural sector would have long since collapsed without the aid of the Ikhobo-Mde. The children that were old enough were taken from their families and sent to study under artisans, builders, bureaucrats or warriors. Some were sent to Biashara to become diplomats to the starborn; some were sent to the jungles to the south to herd water buffalo; some were sent to Qiangshan to work in the mines; some were sent out into the plains to chase the wildebeest.

At the dawn of the tenth year came Qiang Quan into Anu’s palace. He carried with him a long object, one wrapped in beautiful leathers as if meant as a gift. He lowered himself to his knees before the throne and spoke, “Great king - great news have been brought from Biashara!”

The big king lifted his bulk out of his seat and placed a calloused hand on the tanned skin, admiring the work before gingerly unwrapping the thing. ”Do tell.” he intoned with a hint of wonderment.

Within the leather laid a halberd the colour of the night sky, speckled with starry dots that seemed to move every so slightly on their own. It was as if the weapon was a reflection of the heavens in the evening. Perfectly balanced and sized for the massive ape, he it wielded deftly with a few test swings far out of the servant’s way. ”A beautiful weapon, truly. Where did you procure such craftsmanship?”

Zhu smiled and bowed his head. “It was given to Fu Lai’an in Biashara - a result of the greed-consumed starborn’s desperation.” The old servant looked back up. “This was given in exchange for a mere palmful of His Majesty’s tears. According to our translators, it was forged using the life essence of one of their own.”

”A life for a mere handful of gold? We could outfit an entire warband with a boar’s stomach.” he thought aloud.

Zhu nodded, then frowned. “This servant doubts it was procured legally, however; the seller reportedly appeared agitated, and was very clear to the diplomats that the transaction was supposed to be unofficial, and left out of the records.”

Anu’s raised a brow. ”Seems like an affirmable business venture. It must be of great value to require such secrecy, mind the cost just to forge it.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty. We estimate that this style of weaponforging vastly outperforms anything we currently made and can make within a reasonable future.” Zhu shook his head. “How they turn the life force of their own into these weapons is unknown, however.”

”For right now I see no reason for us too, as long as the arms flow I ask no questions.” he finished as he marveled at the detail. ”What to call it.” He murmured.

“Has His Majesty any suggestions?”

”I find my skill in naming things quiet lacking.” he said before pausing to stare into the weapon, almost looking for a name within its inky blackness. ”Hew, perhaps. Or might that not be lacking for a king’s blade? Blackbane maybe? Bah.”

“May this servant suggest the name ‘Skyscythe’?” Zhu asked politely.

Anu stamped the end on the ground causing a thump to reverberate throughout the throne room. ”Skyscythe! So it shall be!” he announced.

Zhu nodded proudly. “A glorious blade for a glorious king, Your Majesty. This servant will see to it that whatever more are offered by the greedy starborn, will be bought.” Zhu tugged on his beard. “One more thing, Your Majesty - the mansa school and the department of war have both been set up in the royal barracks. The Golden Horde will soon be ready for battle.”

The ape held out the halberd for two guards to struggle and hold aloft as he rose and padded down the dias. ”Good to hear. The sooner they begin functioning the sooner order can asserted over this wild rock.” he said as he passed Zhu. ”I want Tal Eren functioning as smoothly and as efficiently as possible, we are setting the example the world will follow.”

“All of Galbar will be at His Majesty’s feet in time. Now, next on the agenda--”

A commotion down the hall silenced Zhu and the two turned to face a Pygmy approaching in a great hurry, tailed by sprinting guards. “YOUR MAJESTY!” called the Pygmy before she was tripped to the floor by a guard and pinned down by a myriad of spears. “Your Majesty!” she called again, desperate inhales cutting apart her words.

”Peace, daughter, peace.” he soothed, placing a gentle finger on her shoulder. ”Speak with sense.”

“Your Majesty, this--!” She drew another breath. “This one comes from the western knucklelands! Our village, it was, it was crushed! Swarmed! Leveled! My family, my, my--” She broke into tears.

The massive demigod was silent, his lips pressed in a hardline as the vestiges of understanding dawned upon him. ”By what.” he said steadily, his voice like boulders rolling down the mountainside.

“The-they were… They were like monsters! Hundreds of them! We, we ran without looking back! Oh, great king, the horror!”

Anu ushered a set of guards to him. ”Shhh, my daughter. You are safe.” he cooed, taking her in his arms.

”Your Majesty!” the pygmies barked in unison, kowtowing low. The muffled cries of the horrified woman became audible as he released her from his grasp. ”You have done Talemon a great service today. Mourn the lost, then rally with your people. Talemon returns injury for injury, and she never forgets.”

_{About 55 years from the Soul Heist}

---

The lands around the Ihemol had been quite prosperous for the Vallamir and Nebulites alike, and the Ihokhetlani found great power in the stone crafting of their new friends. It took a few years for the Vallamir and Ihokhetlani to learn what they did not know of the crafts, and even longer for the system of Priesthood that the Ihokhetlani kept to begin to spread to other peoples. However, Ohannakeloi was very devoted to leading these efforts and keeping everything in good order.

Aefsige and Solun had become the first Priests of their respective species, although it was soon after others would join them in the service, typically regaled with stories of the various Divines, although admittedly mostly focused on things said by Ohannakeloi. A few stories and legends were told of the exploits of other gods, mostly they seemed less than pleasant. The Terror of the Southern Ranges, the Ikhortaur, a beast of the Divine Kirron that killed without sense or reason. Or the unknown creator of the lost kin, the Ihokhurs, driven mad by dark forces, under their Evil-Priest Kalani they cut a swath eastwards a few decades ago, few wished to travel after them. These and more were taught by the Ihokhetlani priests to the new guides of faith.

Ohannakeloi guided little in matters of faith besides insisting on the faith itself. He instead concerned himself with practical matters of building and expansion, his Priests concerned themselves with bickering in innumerable matters of theology. That being said, the populations did grow very rapidly, the fertility sap and the lack of entertainment tended to see to that fairly well. Although a division began to show between the Vallamir and Nebulites with time, a few had little issues. However of each race, there were a great many who didn’t quite get along so well, this largely meant that most spent more time among their own population than with the other as there was largely enough of everything to go around.

The largest contributor to the growth of population had to be the Ihokhetlani however. As the children became many, work did not slow down, it sped up as the Ihokhetlani learned uses of tools for stone shaping could greatly increase their numbers rapidly and were generally stronger and less prone to fatigue than the other peoples. Although they couldn’t quite match the precision work, in broad construction this matters not so much as in the making clothes might be. This meant generally that homes were built quickly, and that most families could devote most of their time to child-rearing and other pursuits that they found.

Ohannakeloi had thought everything was going rather well. He was enjoying a theological discussion between several priests on the merits and possible pitfalls of the Shengshese doctrine. As much of the doctrine that Ohannakeloi could accurately remember and repeat to his priests rather. That was until he noticed a congregation a fair distance away and listened in.

“...but what is it?”

“...nothing that I remember from the stories…”

“...‘didn’t see it’?! There's a lot more than just the one, are you…”

“...must be a Divine’s work that, let me tell yas…”

He stopped listening and looked up instead. He kicked himself away from the discussion group and headed for a less populated area as fast as his body could carry him. Up above shards of the moon, Veradax, burned brightly in the skies of Galbar, a few he could see would cause a great deal of trouble immediately. One chunk, small but still was dangerous close to impacting the main population area, something he would not afford. He had reached an uncleared area of forest, most importantly one without sapients.

Ohannakeloi dived into the earth and exerted divine power to bring forth a structure, one to protect. He arose atop an obelisk, unadorned with smooth faces but of divine stone. More importantly a divinely infused crystal through the core of the obelisk that soon radiated its power outward. From the mountain peaks and the gaps between them, a shimmering wall, a dome in truer fact. A protective casing made to prevent things of great destructive power from impacting into the central regions of the populated area. Only what of the dome rose above the horizon could be seen, little power drawn normally only concentrated at the point of an impact. Its ends in the mountains could not be seen from the location that Ohannakeloi was in, but he knew that it reached there at the least.

The chunk reached the barrier, initially, it did not seem to stop, the barrier shrunk instead of letting it pass. Soon lines of power converged on the point, strengthening the barrier so that the chunk was destroyed, its rubble thrown back, pushed away as the barrier grew to its previous extent. It had worked as intended.

Ohannakeloi was not done however, he hurried to get to the Buajaoi to use it to divert or destroy such chunks that could impact the mainland of Atokhekwoi. After all, he had hardened its hull, although he scarcely expected this to come about from so long ago.

---

The task had not been easy, or completely successful. However, the destruction was much less than it could have been, or at least the destruction on land. Most had been diverted into the oceans as the pull of Galbar was too much to resist in the time he had to work on the chunks.

There was much to be done, he had been perhaps too complacent in recent years. Listening to his mortals and paying little attention to his fellow deities had evidently been ill-guided. He knew not why chunks of Veradax rained down, but he did plan to find out, first he had some business to finish up near the Ihemol.

---

Smoke ahead.

Not the smoke of a raging forest fire, but that of a contained cooking fire.

At last.

The young demigod ran forward, deftly weaving through brush, under branches, and over roots; his divinely enhanced reflexes preventing him from taking a scratch.

He burst out from the bushes, into a small clearing. There, seven Vallamir stood, spears and slings at the ready, while children huddled behind them. Karamir came to a sudden stop, and looked at them in awe. An entire species. His people. Made in his image. They, too, were surprised. Not just at his sudden appearance, but at his strange equipment. The cloak, the dagger, the knife, the blackened bow... they had never seen such things before. And his height - he easily towered over them all.

The tallest of their number, a broad-shouldered blue-haired man almost as tall as Karamir, stepped forward. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Karamir could only stare back. He had waited for this moment for a long time. Now it had come, and he was speechless. What to say? That he was the first of their kind? Would they believe him? Would they care? And then... the news. His heart sank. He had to tell them that their god, his father, was dead. Would they believe that? And if they did, how would they react?

"Speak, boy!" the man insisted.

"I'm... I'm Karamir," he finally said. "Son of Kalmar, First of the Vallamir."

Eyebrows rose, one Vallamir gasped, and half of them clenched their fists across their chest in respect, but their leader seemed unmoved. "How do we know that's true?"

That gave Karamir pause. He supposed there were multiple ways in which he could prove such a claim, but... which approach should he take? Perhaps... perhaps an appeal to reason would be best. "I'm clearly different from any other Vallamir," Karamir said. "I'm taller, and I have items that are beyond your means to craft. Where did I get these, if not from Kalmar or from other lands?" he shrugged as he asked the question. "I... I've been gone from this land a long time, and now I'm back."

The man ruminated on these words for a moment, and then gave the same clenched fist salute as the rest. "Alright... I believe it..." he decided, and everyone seemed to relax. "But why have you come back now, of all times? Only two days ago, the world had almost ended."

Karamir gulped, and then realized he had to say it. There was no sense hiding the truth - it would come out eventually. Best get them to accept it now. "Kalmar... my father... is dead," he said softly.

Eyes widened once again. Mouths gaped. Weapons were dropped. Gasps rang out.

"What?" the blue-haired man uttered in shock.

"No... no, that can't be..." another whispered disbelievingly.

"H-how?" a third stammered.

Karamir took a deep breath. "The meteors fell from Veradax, sphere of the God Orvus," Karamir revealed. "It had been taken over by a creature named Abraxas, and it was trying to destroy the world. Kalmar, along with Arae, and another Goddess named Ashalla, went up there to stop it. He succeeded... but his wounds were too severe. Before he died, he gave everything he could to me," he said quietly.

They took the news in silence; the only sound being the crackling of the fire. Some had tears in their eyes. Others looked to the sky, or to the ground. A black-haired woman clenched her fists in anger. "No..." she whispered. "I don't believe it."

"I'm sorry," Karamir said sincerely, "But it's true."

"Who... who will protect us?" A small, frightened voice asked. It was a child, who had pushed her way to the front. There were tears in her eyes. "If... If Kalmor is dead..." The expressions of even the adult Vallamir made it clear she was not alone in her concerns. And Karamir knew it was time to commit to a decision.

"I will," Karamir declared, causing focus to return to him.

"You?" The man asked skeptically.

"He left everything he could to me," Karamir said. "That includes this land, as well as his divinity. I... I have a duty to protect this place, and the power to do so," his expression hardened. "I can make no guarantees, but I will do everything I can."

He stayed with them. He told them of his travels. Of Chopstick Eyes and Abanoc. Of Arya, the Lady of the Eye, and he felt a feeling of wistfulness as he spoke. Of Kalmar's last moments, during which he had to fight back tears. The wounds were still fresh, yet he could not make himself vulnerable. Not now. They listened to everything he said intently. None smiled, still shaken as they were by the news of their god's death.

"There is one more thing," he then said, as he summoned the familiar golden energy to his hand, condensing it into a visible fist-sized ball stare in wonder at. Then he told them of mana. Of its purpose. Of its types. Of its difficulty to master.

"But we can master it?" The blue-haired man asked.

"Not all of you," Karamir conceded. "But some."

"Who, then?" A blue-haired woman asked.

Who, indeed? How could Karamir tell. How could anyone tell? Then, he noticed something. Small spores of golden raw mana seemed to radiate around the woman who had spoke. They did not do so for the others.

"You," he said, based entirely on a hunch. Her eyebrows shot up. "Come here."

She stood and came closer to him. He stood as well, and looked her in the eye. The fist-sized ball began to disperse, until what remained was no larger than a finger tip. "Hold out your hand," he commanded. She did, and he gently placed the ball in it. "Focus on it," he ordered. "Think of creating something. A small flame. Pour your emotion into it."

She stared at it in squinted. For a moment it seemed like nothing would happen. Then she grit her teeth, and suddenly the tiny ball exploded in a small bright spark. She jumped in surprise, and Karamir breathed a sigh of relief. "You can wield mana," he confirmed, smiling for the first time in days.

---

He had stayed with them for the rest of the day, teaching the woman, whose name was Janys, how to use her new gift. Then when night came, he had moved on, having no need to sleep. The days passed as he wandered the Hunter's Eye on foot, encountering scattered groups and tribes. Many of them were shaken up by recent events, and they were even more shaken when he revealed the news of Kalmar's death. He sympathized with them, then shared his stories, and the knowledge of mana. If he saw someone capable of wielding it, he would teach them.

Yet some groups did not have those who were capable at all. This made him wonder. If he truly was the God of Mana...

So he decided to experiment. Tentatively, he pressed a finger against one's forehead, and as they asked what he was doing, he thought of what he was trying to accomplish, and willed it to happen. They blinked in astonishment, cutting themselves off as they suddenly caught a glimpse of the golden mana all around them. Another blessing, and they were able to manipulate it.

He did the same when he encountered other bands that had no natural mana-casters. However, he did not give it to everyone. Although he would have liked for everyone to have this gift, he wasn't entirely sure what the implications would be. Remembering full well the cruelty that mortals were capable of, he couldn't risk some like Laurien getting their hands on this power.

His travels continued. Until, one day, he hit a wall.

---

It was an actual wall.

It was no obstacle to him specifically, thanks to his cloak or his divinity, but in this land which had more or less felt completely wild it was out-of-place. Not that it was an unwelcome sight. The smoke of cookfires in the sky beyond it demonstrated that it was inhabited. Civilization.

He effortlessly flew over it and landed in a vast enclosure.

Before him was a rather large and impressive stone building. Surrounding it were rather less impressive ramshackle wooden shelters. What he truly cared about, however, were the people who stood and walked between it all. They wore skins and furs. Some laughed and shouted, while others whispered. Child ran back and forth across the field, while parents prepared food, made clothes, or built new shelters.

He began walking forward. As he neared, the Vallamir began to take notice of him, and an uncertain silence fell over the settlement. Karamir himself suddenly felt nervous. He had yet to meet a group of this size.

Yet it had to be done, and he could not falter. He kept walking, and maintained a stoic expression. He felt dozens of eyes on him as he neared the camp. They were looking at his equipment. His clothes were normal enough, but his cloak? The dagger, and the knife? The bow that had been turned black? As with the others, nobody here had ever seen such items.

A blonde woman stepped forward, flanked by two guards, and all three of them held stone spears. Karamir suddenly found himself thinking of the fight at Laurienna, and nearly drew his own weapon, but then the woman spoke.

"Who are you?" she asked, looking him up and down. "Why are you here?"

He met her gaze and swallowed, clearing his throat. "I am Karamir. Son of Kalmar, First of the Vallamir," he said. "Take me to your leader."

Several pairs of eyes widened, and there were a few gasps. "My name is Myla," the blonde-haired woman said. "Our leader is named Valys. We will take you to her."

Karamir nodded, and followed. A black-haired man and a brown-haired woman appeared, falling into step alongside them as they made their way up the steps to the central stone building. They entered a vast, empty room. At the far end was a strange totem, depicting a one-eyed bird, and a dozen Vallamir knelt before it in prayer.

They proceeded forward, their steps echoing, causing one of the Vallamir - a beautiful white-haired woman - to turn and look upon them. Her prayers ceased, and she rose to her feet. "What is it?" she asked Myla.

"Karamir has returned," Myla told her, causing the rest of the kneeling Vallamir to turn their heads and cease their prayers as well.

The woman looked at him with wide eyes. "I... we were told that one day you would return," she said, blinking rapidly, as if she couldn't quite believe it. "My name is Valys. You were the First, I was the Second," she revealed, and then suddenly asked, "Do you have news of Kalmar? I have been praying for days, and received no answer..."

Straight to it, then. Karamir looked her in the eye, and took note of her hopeful expression. It was a shame those hopes had to be dashed against the stone floor they stood upon, yet he he had unfortunately already grown used to breaking such grim news. "Kalmar is dead," he told her.

The usual reactions ensued. Gasps, tears, objections, shocked silence. "What do you mean... dead?" Valys asked.

So, Karamir told her the story. By the end of it there were tears in her eyes. Myla stared at the floor. The black-haired man clenched his fist. The brown-haired woman was so overwhelmed by the news she had to sit down.

"I... I can't believe this..." Valys whispered.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to believe it either, but it's true," Karamir said gravely.

"B-but... we're Kalmar's handpicked followers..." Valys whispered. "He chose us to maintain this place. This is his holy ground. If he's dead... what are we supposed to do?"

"What were you doing before?" Karamir asked, after a moment's thought.

"Hunting... building... guarding... surviving... praying..." Valys whispered.

"You can keep doing that," Karamir assured her. [color=yellow]"If this place was important to him, that's all the more reason to protect it - to make sure he and his sacrifice will be remembered. He... he wouldn't want us to give up."

Valys nodded, and wiped away tears. "We'll... we'll need to tell the others. They won't take it well."

---

So, they did. They gathered up all of the Chosen, save for those who were out hunting or foraging, and Karamir delivered the tragic news. They had at first been overjoyed to see the first of their kind in person, but the news he brought quickly turned them to despair and sadness. Their creator, the one who had taught them, favoured them, walked alongside them for the better part of a decade, and gifted them with this place... was dead. Some wailed, some shouted. Denial, anger, sadness, acceptance... not everyone took it the same.

Karamir did what he could to reassure him. Kalmar had elevated him to a god. He would watch over them now. For some, this worked. For others... Karamir was the first of their kind, but they did not know him. He stayed with them afterward, speaking to small groups and individuals to reassure them. Hope was not lost, he had assured him. They had survived the Cataclysm. He and Roog would ensure that they survived whatever came next.

Most of them took it numbly. It was not just their survival they were concerned about. They had all seen something in Kalmar. A god. A creator. a leader. A teacher. A mentor. A friend. A father. That was gone, and it would not be easily replaced. So, Karamir shared in their grief. They traded stories, and recalled Kalmar's teachings.

By the end of the day, only a few had gotten over Kalmar's demise, but most had come to accept Kalmar's decision to entrust their fate to Karamir. A handful had rejected him, denying that he was a god or that he had any right to lead them - the others turned on that handful, and it was Karamir himself who had to prevent it from escalating to violence. The small group then left into the woods. A few more then followed, not out of anger or rejection of Karamir, but out of a general sense of despair and sorrow - they could not remain at the holy site of a dead god.

As the sun fell low on the horizon, Karamir spoke with Valys, and a man whose name he learned to be Karlyn. They, too, had spent the day doing what they could to reassure the Vallamir. Now the three of them spoke alone. They each told the stories of their own creation. How Karamir had been trained for nine days - though for once he did not tell the tale with bitterness or regret. How Valys had been the first to appear on the Eye, before the four Creator Gods, and how Kalmar had wrapped a cloak around her - which she still wore today. How Karlyn had found himself alone and confused in a swamp, and came to discover and lead other similarly confused members of his kind until Kalmar found him.

They told Karamir of Kalmar's actions in the years that followed, as well as what little they knew of the three other Creator Gods. They told him what they knew of the mainland tribes, which was very little, as they did not leave the Hunter's Eye. Karamir listened to all they told him, certain that it would be useful.

Though it was no longer a necessity, Karamir allowed himself to sleep that night. He was in a safe place.

Tomorrow, he would teach them mana.

---

The stream of Spitfires flowed like a skyborne river, a thin trickle of shapes that flashed their hidden colours with odd rhythm as they flowed down on the wind to the spire. They moved with a pattern of organic randomness, the way a twig takes as it becomes a branch, and their voice carried much the same: scratching back and forth, pulsing high and low, transmitting a wave of conversation trapped within itself. Lanternhead X4B watched them with little intrigue. She knew where each flurry of wings and fire would turn their path, and expected each turn of their distant hubbub.

She watched and waited and fanned the bonfire she was building, and spoke the 3k46l8s0.1-40ls.53se291.5o03rd sentence.

The 3k46l8s0.1-40ls.53se291.5o03rd sentence was a short one, but filled with poetry. Some might say melodrama. The 3k46l8s0.1-40ls.53se291.5o03rd sentence suited nights of cool rains and grey skies, with sparse company and much introspection. But there was no time for such sentences.

We must away. We simply must away.

The Spitfires flurried over the bonfire X4B had built, relishing its steam and soot. Its branches numbered 43, of 67 originally piled on, and the Spitfires who saw this number were 30, four of them freshly dividing. She could hear their words clearly now, did X4B, she whom had been called Sparky by God. They buzzed and chattered, things like '77 degree turn from the Sphere Lamp to the Home Lamp via Camel's Bluff' and 'Spray catches you fast if you show off when the south wind hits' and 'Blue Triple Eyes didn't eat too much she was mating Serpent Flare, now she’s Triple Eye Flare'. Those were the best these chittered sentences could be translated, descriptions and comments and gossip of little interest, carried in emotions X4B did not fully understand. X4B heard a few rounds of 'Who is the glass bronze cagefire?' and an answer, 'She's the basket carrier, the one who laughs in embers'.

Sparky it was, then.

The Spitfires always returned this time of day, some small detachment of them flying back over the course of several nights from the Saluran to the south, where a colony in eternal rotation nibbled fine threads of steely parasitic metal that grew on the lava lamps whose submarine vents had closed and whose systems were waning. The Spitfires had named everything in their favoured grove of lamps, and numbered every tree from here to there. As long as they kept cycling back and forth, those names would be remembered, much like Sparky's own had been- by one, then another, bounced back and forth across the group like a rubber ball until it was time to be shared again.

She could not indulge these flames forever. I must away. I simply must away.

---

The Lanternhead 2AZ, unto whom had been given the title Gourdface, gazed out upon the Feasting Forest, gazed deeply within it from three hundred yards up in the air. He saw its groves and altars, streams, spirits, and outcrops of stone. He saw the subtle curves of the terrain his Lord had sculpted so carefully long ago, and he saw the Mar that was tearing it to pieces.

Everywhere the motes were floating, like the ghosts of moths that never were. Often they were sparse, lonely. Elsewhere they rose like snow flurries. There were patches in the forest where the moon did not have to be full for the twigs to shine in the dark. There were patches where the magic had died with the forest.

2AZ spoke the 79-3ms13g6.p.j9d65-xh21st sentence. This sentence was a personal one, and 2AZ did not regret that no other Lanternhead was present to hear it emanate from the flashing mouth carved into his gourd. Such a sentence is said during times of solitude, when the body is being tempered by the chill of water and the weight of stone, and the mind returns stronger from its hour of weakness. It was cathartic. It was brutal.

2AZ gripped the hilt of his long, straight-edged cane and twisted it, unsheathing the épée that lay within. It was light. So, so very light. It flashed faintly in the fire of his eyes, and he spun it in his hand.

A tiny sprig of cottontail grass fell down onto the garden path, cut clean.

Yes, thought Gourdface. Even he could cut.

All hail the Skewer Lord.

The pod of orcas jostled for position as they raced through the air, butting into each other as they tried to get ahead of the pack. On their backs rode undead, their souls frozen in crystal and then entombed in the stone bodies of Armonia animated by a deep red flowing Verse. The undead where armed with long staves that whistled as they were woven through the air, directing gusts of wind at one another in an attempt to dislodge eachother or fended off the snapping teeth of other’s mounts. With the dead rode small green Armonia, just as much a target of aggression as their mortal allies, armed with weapons that where a cross between violins and crossbows. The Armonia stood poised to obey instructions, but otherwise where passively indifferent to the action happening around them.

The whales and their riders soared in between rows of floating columns that guided them towards a large floating gong held aloft by one of the pillars. Most of the skirmishing between the riders ceased as they drew near, and the air was filled with song instead of the sounds of battle. This caused the green Armonia to notch special arrows into their bows before letting them fly at the gong. Each bolt that struck true caused a specific note to echo forth, lighting up a glowing marker about the gong to indicate a successful hit.

Some attempted to interfere with their opponents shots, gust of wind sweating bolts of course. On particularly aggressive former elf instead dead bade his mount ram a rival of theirs who had drawn close to the side of the track to get a better shot.

The unfortunate orca was pushed too close to a pillar, clipping it with their side. A cry of pain and stream of blood followed as blubber scraped against the coarse stone. The rider, left unbalanced by the blow, was unhorse by a stave strike from another rider and sent tumbling from his mount. The Armonia fell more slowly than could have been expected from a being made of stone, but still took significant damage when it came crashing down on stone floor below.

“Oh no. Leilani and Mila have taken quite the hit there! I think... Yes. yes, the medical team is coming out onto the field. I’m afraid this race might well be over for those too” boomed a voice across the stadium as a pair of undead and a Beluga whale rushed out from the side lines to aid the injured pair. The undead went to the side of their wounded comrade, his stone body cracked and shattered in several places, revealing the Verse flowing beneath their silicone skin, while the Beluga drifted up to the wounded whale. As stone and song where used to crudely repair the undead's masterwork body healing energy pulsed from the whale which had been told to exclusively drink water bathed in the lustrous garden’s glow.

As the pair were seen to the race continued uninterrupted. The racers had all passed the target where the crash had occurred after each had eventual scored a hit and where now swerving through a slalom of stone pillars as they headed for the far end of the arena.

That arena was the Lightning Dome, named in honor of Ashalla’s victory in her race with Cerule, which was a large sausage bodied stadium floating freely in the Blue’s clear skies. The sloped sides of its inside walls held a myriad of seats all looking down at a flat expanse of stone above which the race was taking place. Those seats were rather sparsely populated at the moment by only an odd hundred onlookers scattered across the stands that had been built with far larger future populations in mind. Here and there Alma where perched, their image projection capabilities providing close up shots of the action.

While racing was the most popular and first ever event that had taken place within the Dome it was far from the only one. Since it had been built it had become host to a myriad of other activities from mock battles to lectures on a myriad of topics, Armonia dueling tournaments, concerts and half a dozen other newly invented and rapidly evolving sports.

“Highly elaborate games were not what I expected after hearing a goddess’s pitch about making a better world after I died.” Garna’Tenth said loudly to her guide as she sat up in the stands watching the spectacle. Going from dying in the mud at the hands of Nebulite slave drivers to waking up in the clouds, meeting an old flame and then being asked if they’d like to go to watch the race together had been a rather surreal experience so far for the old Jotunder.

“Yeah I can get that. But this is pretty new.” Kabarna, who had died before the Jotunder had even started doing last names, said back, half shouting to be heard over the intermittent cheering from the crowd and the words of the race’s commentator who was having their voice copied and amplified by dozens of Gemstone Gardners flocked around him. The colorful birds were everywhere now that Azura had finally. Finally. Reached out to her first creations and brought them back into the fold. “And there's a lot more to all this, but I thought you might want to start out with something fun for our first meeting in a decade.”

“Decades.”

“For you. Only been 10 years since I died. Guess you could say I slept for most of the rest of it.”

“Then you slept through alot.” Garna’Tenth left out how unpleasant what Kabarna had slept through was.

“Yeah. You can tell me about it when we go meet one of the Chroniclers”

“Cronicilers?”

“Some of the dead decided they should try” Kabarna began to explain before being drowned out by the enthusiastic cheering of some nearby spectators as the injured rider and orca re-entered the race with a vengeance, aiming primarily to take down the elven rider who had knocked them out with a series of powerful wind blasts fired across the center of the field while their orca pushed themselves to their limit to try and catch the rest of the racers.

Garna gently punched the distracted Kabarna on the shoulder and then jerked a thumb up to the back of the stadium. “Could we talk elsewhere. I still have so many questions”

The other giant took one last glance back at the race before nodding and rising to lead the way. With long strides the pair ascended the stands and eventually arrived atop the stadium’s outer wall. There they approached a large double banister sized to keep both giants and smaller people from falling off the structure into the open air. Beyond, stretching out below them, was Glabar as seen through the Blue, fuzzy and slightly warped to allow a round world to sit a the bottom of a flat realm.

Above it floated a number of temples, most drifting freely but a few bound to a spire like mountain that stand its way up from the world below by cords of Luftstone and Verse. Atop that mountain sat the sky bastion where Garna had been given her new unlife, slowly rotating around its peak, while around it and the temples strange fish like creatures swam through the sky. With them where the colorful Gemstone Gardeners. Garna had freaked out upon seeing them and it had taken a while to calm her down and convince her that Squals would not be coming to vaporise her at any moment.

The pair leaned against the banister, far enough away from the sporting event that they didn't have to shout to hear each other anymore.

“So. Like I was saying. Some of the dead decided they should try and record everything they can into something they’re calling the people’s history. Technology, culture, stories, music, and all kinds of other stuff. Pooling the wisdom of the dead into one place. Most of its really dry, but every now and then they find out something incredibly useful from the questions they bombarded the newbies with.” Kabarna explained “But they store everything. There rooms and rooms filled with stone slates in the Sky Bastion covered in this stuff called ‘writing’ which is words carved into stone.”

“Carved into stone?” Garna said disbelievingly.

“There’s pictures and these lines that the pictures are written between. So say the sound or word that corresponds to the picture, and how high or low you say it based on where it is between the lines and that lets you ‘read’ the words to say to yourself what the person who wrote them said in their own head as they carved the words... It just sort of works. These bodies” Kabarna smacked her chest with a palm, “kinda figure it out on their own like they do with speaking with the verse.”

Garna looked sceptical.

“You’ll get it when you see it. Trust me.” Kabarna insisted.

“Sure… so what do you do? Your not one of these Chronicles are you?”

Kabarna laughed at the suggestion “No. No definitely not. I’m a Guardian. A warrior. Same as I ever was. Though now we’re all protecting and building instead being killed by monsters at the whims of the gods while trying to destroy stuff.“

Garna nodded, but before she could ask about what exactly all of this was building towards somthign sreaked though the Blue in the distance. A burning tail plummeting towards Galbar. The pair watched curiosity until it exited the blue and struck the icy ground of Kalgun’s northern shore. The impact looked insignificant from up on high, tons of snow, dirt and stone being hurled skywards by the impact looking like a stone splashing in the river.

“Is that normal?” the newly dead Garna asked as the first meteorite was soon followed by others as the very beginning of Abraxes’ bombardment began to hit the planet.

“No...” Kabarna replied, stone fingers scraping thoughtfully against her chin

“Whatever it is it’s beautiful.”

The pair watched the falling fires together for a few more moments before Kabarna remembered a tale Azura had told them when asked about Orvus, one of a close call with an ancient impact. At the sight of something flashing into existence high above them she turned sharply away from the other giant and strode towards the stands calling out “CERULE!”

“What?“ came the response followed by an “Oh shit!” and the rapid pounding of feet that brought an avian undead dashed into view. Before Garna could ask what was going on the new arrival leaped up onto the banister of the balcony and then out into the open air, whistling loudly as she plummeted down towards the world below.

“What? Who was that and what’s happening”

“That’s Cerule. She’s a god. Or an avatar of a god. Same thing really” Kabarna explained as she returned.

Garna was unsure how to take the news that the first god she had actually seen was someone who’d been hooting and hollering a few rows away along with the other dead. There was little time to digest this however as the Avatar returned moments later, racing skywards while standing atop the head of an immense sky serpent to confront the incoming bombardment.

“Don't just stand there gawking! All hands on deck!“ she yelled indiscriminately to anyone and everyone who might be able to help. As she did divine inspiration suddenly flashed into the minds of the onlookers.

As the first meteorite hurtling towards the north pole drew closer the avatar cupped her hands together at one of her hips, spacing them as if to hold an invisible ball. Into this space wind gathered, drawn both from her surroundings and from blasta and torrents shot towards her by the freshly inspired undead who wove a tapestry of sound at the behest of the conductors. Air condensed ever desner between her palms until moments before impact she motioned to hurl the sphere at the approaching rock.

As the Avatar screamed wordlessly in defiance a shockwave burset from her hands and a torrent of air intense enough that its passage could be seen blasted out from her now outstretched hands, a beam of force that hammered into the descending rock. Shattering into a dozen pieces. Yet even these could do grievous harm to the scattered temples

Then a second pair off attacks came, one a half dozen of soul gems shot like bullets from the massive avian Azura and a flurry of laser augmented wind blasts from Luis’s mighty stone armor Bruna, that shattered the sub rocks into splinters. Finally a shield dome of air engulfed the moon facing part of the north pole as the Colossi of winds were activated for the first time in ten years, scattering the fragments to either side of the inhabited floating temples and precious vault.

Yet it was only the first of many stones to be thrown and so the people of the north pole came together and held the line against the descending death till eventually, suddenly, it came to an end.

---

With blind eyes we see
Something that is not meant to be

You stand alone, oh shepherds of souls
Prevented from pursuing other goals

Yet galbar is threatened from the sky
And without you its people will surely die

Orvas’s act leave me enraged
safety locks are disengaged

Bring light to this universe
May darkness fear your verse

Where mortals gathered, the Alma flocked. Where the Alma flocked, death often followed. They took no sides. Monsters stalked the dark of the night and mortal kind mustered to slaughter on another for wealth, land, revenge and a hundred other reasons. The Alma did not intervene and simply collected the dead.

On the dragon’s foot the forces of the Giant whose world would ignite the world prepared marched forth from his mountain kingdom and the Alma gathered like carrion birds around them. To the north strange demons advance upon the kingdom of apes and so for death and liberty the giant’s would march south.

Then the sky began falling and the Alma answered. The colorful stalkers gathered together on hills, cliffs and mountains and unleashed great pillars of light that screamed skywards in defiance of the desolate moonfall.

Across the world, wherever mortals gathered in great numbers and where undefended by the gods, the Alma did what they could, draining their reserves of energy to try and fend off what they could. Where tye perished from over exerting themselves, failing and being obliterated by what they tried to stop or being picked off by power hungry mortals, they left treasure troves of soul crystals to be claimed by the quick, be they curoise or conniving.

Somewhere off the northern coast of Linguja…

Wenbo stood on the veranda of the royal bed chambers, at the very top floor of the Mengcheng palace. It was dark out, but then again, it was always dark out under the sea. The vicious drums of meteors striking the surface had long since subsided, and all that coloured the deep water soundscape now was the buzz of their own city below. The contrast of red flickers of flame dancing in the shade of the abyss was almost ominous - such light had likely never reached this deep before. Another quiet prayer escaped his lips to thank Yullian for this opportunity - now, even the deep seas could be mapped and explored.

“Still up, father?” came a sweet voice and Wenbo turned to see his eldest daughter Bei, who approached holding a torch. Wenbo struck a half-grin.

“It’s difficult to tell what time of day it is down here. Neither Heliopolis’ rays nor the Garden’s sheen can dive this deep.”

Bei deposited the torch in a nearby bracket and sat down in a chair by the veranda door. “I miss the day, to be honest. All this darkness all the time is, frankly, a little depressing. Why are we still submerged?”

Wenbo hummed. “To be fair, my dear, I cannot really answer that adequately. The fire of the sky stopped quite recently, didn’t it?”

“A few days ago, if I recall correctly.”

“Oh, is that so? Well, in that case, I will have a word with Chuanwang about our ascent.”

Bei smiled warmly. “Thanks, father.”

“Please, don’t be so formal, Bei-by.”

Bei flushed red and giggled. “S-stop! That name was never clever or funny!”

“Indeed, it was always quite un-bei-able, wasn’t it?”

A snort escaped Bei’s laughter. “Dad, you’re awful!”

“No, little Bei,” Wenbo protested with a smirk, “I am Wen-derful.”

“If my husband turns out like you, I will jump off this turtle.”

The two kept chuckling for a short moment before an odd sound cut through. It was like a squeal - a very distant squeal, but not one made by a Dreamer. Wenbo frowned.

“Did you hear something?”

“Y-yeah?” Bei voiced with concern.

From within the darkness of the water surrounding the city, lines of light appeared in a small area. They shimmered and twisted and blinked. A long, slender red form with tentacles and a great eye could be seen briefly as the originator of the light before inky blackness swallowed the scene. A low, haunting otherworldly call sounded shortly afterwards.

A rumble trembled through the city and both knew it was Chuanwang.

“He is uneasy,” Wenbo mumbled. Bei swallowed.

“Dad, tell him to resurface.”

“Agreed. Let’s go.” The pair rushed through the palace with quick steps. They had barely made it down to the third floor before they were stopped by Ai wearing an equally concerned expression.

“Did you hear that?”

“We did,” Wenbo confirmed. “We are on our way to tell Chuanwang to swim to the surface.”

“Oh, good. Be swift. We don’t know what the ocean holds.”

They exchanged nods and Wenbo and Bei continued. Out in the courtyard, a few had stopped in their tracks to stare up through the shield bubble that surrounded the city. Some children were sobbing. Around the gate to the Hermian Academy, the guards stared fearfully at the ink cloud.

“You look like you’ve had a nightmare,” Wenbo said to them.

“Th-there was something out there, my lord,” one of them said in a quivering voice. “Something h-huge.”

“Is that so? What did it look like?”

“We’ve… We’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Dad, we cannot delay,” Bei interjected before Wenbo could probe any further.

“Right,” the dreamer lord muttered. “Worry not, guards, we’ll soon be up on the surface again. For now, open these gates, if you’d please.”

The gates swung open and the pair headed swiftly towards the back wall of the Academy square.

As they walked, another sensation came over the Dreamers. Their skin prickled and their hair stood on end. Another tremble shuddered through the city. Wenbo drew a gasp.

“He’s felt something - a presence.”

“Chuanwang has?” They picked up their pace.

“Yes, and I doubt he will be able to avoid it peacefully from how he describes it.” He took Bei by the shoulder. “Tell all the guards to spread throughout the city. Tell everyone to get off the streets and take shelter inside their homes. If they have a cellar, have them hide down there along with as many neighbours as they can fit.”

“R-right!” She took the old Dreamer’s hand. “Be safe, dad.”

Wenbo smiled. “I won’t pass on into Moksha quite yet. Now go.”

Bei nodded and ran back to the guards. Wenbo continued onwards towards the wall, praying all the while that his voice would carry to Chuanwang’s ears even through the barrier. As he approached, the prickling sensation on his skin grew stronger. The shell beneath Wenbo’s feet twitched and shuddered. Chuanwang suddenly roared and the city was briefly tossed to the right. Wenbo lost his footing and nearly fell off the stairs leading to the battlements. A creaking fence was all that had kept him from an early ascent to Moksha.

“Don’t worry, Chuanwang, just hold on, alri--WOAH!” Another toss sent him to the left, where the fence nearly gave out. Grabbing onto both sides, Wenbo took a moment to stabilise, calling out, “CHUANWANG! SWIM UP!” There came no reaction and the lord grit his teeth. He would have to get closer. He kept climbing, distant screams and weeps coming from the city behind him as another twitch thundered through its stone foundations.

Wenbo reached the rampants with great difficulty and peeked over the side. It was dark, the barrier extending but a quarter of a metre away from the edge of the wall. If he stretched out, he could potentially pierce it with his hand. He drew a deep breath.

“Chuanwang! What ails you?!”

Another quake rumbled through the city, but Wenbo only frowned at it. “Yes, I realise it’s painful, but -what- is causing it?!”

No answer. “Damn it, you still can’t hear me, can you…” Wenbo looked around for solutions. In the meantime, the city’s foundation began to quake even more. It titled forwards, backwards and sidewards, as if Chuanwang was trying to kick something away. A distant cacophony of tumbling stone told Wenbo one of their construction projects had finally reached its limit for what it could withstand. He tried punching at the barrier while shouting for the turtle. All he managed was to pierce it with his fists, although at this pressure the water was much harder than he had expected. Wenbo felt the sting of cold water and a jolt of electricity run from his hand through his chest. He cursed to himself, and the tremors continued for a while until they eventually stopped, along with the prickling sensation.

Wenbo blinked and tried once more to look over the side of the ramparts, frowning as he remembered the futility of it. Once more, he tried to shout, “CHUANWANG! SWIM UP!” This time, the ground seemed to tilt backwards and Wenbo grabbed onto the wall for support. It was still uncertain whether Chuanwang had actually heard him or if he simply was annoyed at the lifeforms this deep, but either way, the goal had been accomplished. He looked up to see the very distant twinkles of day peek through waves and wildlife. It wouldn’t be long before they could see again.

The ascent was lengthy, giving time for the Dreamers’ eyes to begin to adapt to the brightness above. When Chuanwang reached the surface, the barrier peeled back like a bubble as it met the open air. Pure, unfiltered sunlight streamed down into the city. The sound of waves and splashing water washed in from outside, crisp and unfettered by ocean and barrier. A fresh, salty sea breeze blew in and swept away the stale smoke-tinged air which the inhabitants of Mengcheng had been making and breathing for the past few days.

Around the city on the back on Chuanwang stretched open ocean as far as the eye could see. Deep blue rippled and shone with reflected sunlight beneath an azure canvas painted with fluffy white clouds. Nearby frolicked a pod of dolphins, making creaking chirps and curiously inspecting the new arrival. Wenbo drew a gasp and chuckled to himself, the laughter increasing in intensity as it went on. He stretched out his arms and let out a loud cheer, grabbing onto the wall again shortly after as the wind threatened to push him off balance.

“My lord!” came a call behind him and he turned to see general Ming.

“Ming! Come up here! The wind feels wonderful!” He took a deep breath. “Ah, can you taste that crisp air?”

“My lord, with all due respect, you’ll get sick if you stand in the wind for too long!”

“Sick? Me? Nooooo… Besides, doctor Zhou will make me all better.” He blinked as if realising something. “Oh, hold on a moment.”

“My lord, I must insist--”

“Hey, Chuanwang! Are you alright?”

There came a surly rumble that dissipated slowly. Wenbo nodded with the occasional hum. “Right, so your leg got bitten by a tiny weird snake?”

“My lord…?”

“How’d it even bite through your skin? Aren’t you made of stone?”
“Lord Wenbo!”

“What?”

“There have been multiple accidents, my lord. Please, if you would come along.”

“Accidents?” The joy of fresh air and freedom disappeared in an instant. “Has anyone gotten hurt?”

“It… May be best if the lord sees for himself.” The two then proceeded down the ramparts towards the city.

The cacophony of crumbling buildings earlier hadn’t been exaggerated. The industrial square had fortunately not suffered any damage to the furnaces that could’ve caused an outbreak of fire, but a number of storehouses built by the Dreamers had crumbled, and the pottery inside with them. A number of tents and stalls in the market had fallen over, and perhaps most devastating was the loss of a nearly full silo of grain, a golden sea of freshly harvested wheat laying spread across the streets. Wenbo rubbed a pair of tired eyes.

“Have there been any other accidents?”

Ming hung her head. “Only one, my lord. This way.”

The general led him down the southern streets, almost towards the agricultural hub wall. There, a heap of crumbled stone lay behind steadier constructions. Judging from the age of the materials, it was one of the newer houses, built primarily to serve as a storehouse. However, it was not uncommon for these to have cellars too, or lead to cellars, and this one in particular had been constructed right above a trapdoor down to a large storage area. A number were already digging away at the rocks to access the door, but a small distance away from the heap laid two woven blankets, contours in the fabric revealing still, humanoid shapes underneath. Wenbo drew a sharp gasp.

“... Who were they?”

“They have been identified as the young Zhong Renai and Temur - my sister’s children.”

“My deepest condolences, general. I cannot even fathom what it must be like to, to lose someone so abruptly.”

“My sister is below, my lord. She will likely be in greater need of warm words than me.” She rested her hand on the pommel of her clay shortsword. “How will you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Put them to rest, my lord.”

Wenbo furrowed his brow and stepped over to the blankets. He pulled the closest one away slightly and shut his eyes hard at the sight. “No dreamer has passed on since, since Urangtai. His manner of death made burning the most… Convenient.” He winced at his own diction. “... I should consult Moksha about this, or Zhong Wang. Wang might have a solution.”

“The headmaster will likely be grieving as well, my lord. Renai was a beloved niece of his.”

“I see. That is understandable, then.”

“Furthermore, if I may speak frankly, my lord…”

“Go on.”

“... It should be up to their families to decide how they are returned to the clay.”

Wenbo hummed and eventually nodded. “You’re right, I… I spoke out of line. Their mother shall be the one to decide.”

At that moment came another rumble and the Dreamers in the area all jerked to face the front of their city. Wenbo grit his teeth and Ming threw him a worried frown.

“What is it, my lord? What is he saying?”

“There’s more out there. He senses another presence. Stay here. I will go back!”

“My lord!”

“Stay here!”

Ming froze and glared at the ground. Squeezing the pommel of her blade, she nodded slowly. “Yes, my lord.”

“Good. I will be right back.”

Wenbo hurried through the streets, which were being emptied as people once more retreated into their houses to avoid being tossed everywhere in case Chuanwang had to move. He appreciated that the city wasn’t very long, but closer to the Hermian Academy, the streets grew a little too zig-zaggy to be efficient. He eventually reached the ramparts from before, though, and looked over the side to see what Chuanwang had laid his eyes on.

In the water nearby moved an enormous shape, far larger than any whale or other sea beast Wenbo had seen. It looked bulbous, although its patterning and colouration made it nearly impossible to distinguish its exact outline. Then stripes and colours danced across the creature’s surface. A greeting, territorial but not hostile.

Chuanwang rumbled. Wenbo nodded. “Yes, maintain a friendly attitude. We cannot risk any more conflict.” Wenbo waved weakly and shouted, “Hello! Don’t mind us, please - we’re just passing by!” The sea breeze tossed his long, black hair out of its braid.

The creature’s colours shifted to a speckled reddish-pink. Frills stretched along the edge of the bulbous form, tentacles waved below it, and two giant eyes looked up at Wenbo and the city of Dreamers. The Kraken raised a couple of tentacles and became blue with a few shifting yellow circles, the patterns saying, Where did you come from? Where are you going?

Wenbo smiled. “Aha. M-hm. An honour to meet you, great marvel of the sea. We are the Dreamers, and we last came from the depths after hiding from the rain of fire. We are heading, well, wherever the great turtle takes us.”

The Kraken turned black with red zig-zags at the mention of the rain of fire - a fearful gesture. It shifted back to a neutral speckled reddish-pink, Then the Kraken became a black-blue gradient with more yellow circles and waving arms, a gesture saying, Where before the depths?

Wenbo hummed. “Our last landfall was on the land south of here - lots of mountains and horribly frightening monsters further inland. Though…” A frown coloured his face. “If you mean our true home, I suppose I should say Tendlepog.”

The former continent’s description garnered confusion from the Kraken, but it seemed to understand the latter. The Kraken’s eyes scanned across Wenbo, Chuanwang and the city. Then it sunk back beneath the waves, blending in with the water and disappearing from sight.

Wenbo looked over the ramparts, seeing nothing but the huge shell and the faint silhouette of Chuanwang’s head. “Did he leave?” The turtle grumbled. “Oh, I see. Well, better hope he doesn’t scare the life out of anyone down hubwards.” He smiled and spun around, but before he could set a foot on the stairs, a cold seabreeze soared by. Wenbo inhaled and let out a sneeze. He dabbed his sleeve on his runny nose and cleared his throat. Shaking his head for a minute, he then proceeded back towards the city. And Chuanwang continued to swim slowly through the ocean, with the city on his back.

---

She arrived upon the continent to the south, weary of flight and full of thought. Always so full of thoughts, most gnawing at her since she left Silver. As her feet settled down into the sandy beaches, she let out a sigh as she began to walk into the forest. Over and over again their conversation played out in her head. And each and every time she was disappointed. For decades she had placed Silver on a pinnacle, and in one day, it was all over. She should’ve felt angry, or upset, or even sad, but she only felt numb.

It was over.

But it had barely ever begun.

That was the simplest truth. She had only known Silver for what felt like, weeks before she died, and though their love had been young, blossoming even, it was bittersweet. Never meant to be, not really. If only she had realized that. Then perhaps…

No.

She couldn’t think like that. What happened, had happened and there was no changing that now. Her only regret was that she had done it differently. Secretly. Then again… It would never have been secret. Not with Gods like Abanoc and Arae, who knew everything. What power that would be... To have the knowledge of the world, and the knowledge of its people, at her fingertips. It would be delicious.

“Ichor would be delicious.” Came Aaldir’s angry voice, interrupting her train of thought. The black blade floated beside her, weaving in and out of the trees as they walked aimlessly on.

”Must you interrupt? You know ichor is out of the question and yet, you still persist. Why is that?” she chided.

“You have ichor.” The sword whispered hungrily.

”Yes and you will not taste it.” she huffed. The sword remained silent after that, before humming a dark tune. Laurien went back to her thoughts.

She had to become a ghost, no one could no where she was at any given moment. If Arae had deemed to punish her as a mortal, then there was no telling what the other gods would do to her, knowing that she had become divine. They would hate her, and despise her for what she was, and then they would most likely kill her.

She couldn’t have that, now could she?

And if the Gods could not, or would not love her, then their creations would. It was a surefire way to incur even more wrath, which was why she had to start small. Let a few love her unconditionally, give them gifts and powers, and they would spread her influence. This she knew. For she had been a mortal, after all. And the one thing she knew, was that power came in many forms and that mortals loved power.

It gave them an edge, made them feel special and capable. In a world with living gods, what more could one ask for? Besides divinity itself…

A sudden screech stopped her. Aaldir found her hand as she looked around for the source. With her new senses, she could tell whatever screamed was coming in her direction. So the Goddess flew up into a tree and waited with bated breath.

It did not take long for it to arrive. A creature she had never seen before. It looked like a small humanoid, bit it’s flesh was the wrong color and it wore no clothes. It’s eyes, there were too many of them, and the only desire in it’s heart, was to devour. But instead of doing that, it ran on past her tree and into the undergrowth. Laurien narrowed her eyes, and wondered what she had seen.

She flew up into the sky until she could see in the distance… And there was merely the green of the forests. Slightly disappointed and vexed, she flew on, now closer to the tree line. As her survey continued, she began to feel or sense, something rather odd. Instinctively, she wanted to fly away from that feeling, but her curiosity drove her forward.

Until she arrived at the source of her trepidation. Surrounded by flora that was sickly purple in color and had too many eyes and gnashing teeth, was a man-high portal, oozing with a miasma so thick it made breathing a chore even for a goddess. She was bewildered by the site, to say the least. The last time she had journeyed through this area, nothing like it had appeared.

Tentatively, she reached out to touch the portal and as soon as her hand grazed the darkness, she was sucked in. The first thing she knew, was pain. Terrible, biting pain that never subsided. It felt as if she was being eaten alive, slowly and alive for that matter. Next, what was left of her eyes feel upon the horror that was the portals destination. Suspended in a sea of magenta loomed a sphere the size of Veradax, its rock faces black yet oddly sinewy and its oceans a screaming purple. Yet it wasn’t the celestial body that warranted her pain-fueled attention, but what was on it. A million billion entities swarmed the planet, screaming war cries as they slaughtered one another with weapons without form. Giants slaughtered imps while flying serpents met foul ends by many armed beasts.

She should have felt afraid, perhaps even terrified but she felt none of those things. She felt pain yes, but also perplexed. What was this sphere? And who controlled it? Yet her questions would have to wait as she realized any more exposure would surely kill her outright. So, Laurien retreated back through the portal, or gateway as it might be and came out sputtering and coughing as her body began to heal. Aaldir hovered over her body like some protective beast as she began to laugh.

Neither of them noticed the film of thick purple liquid begin to glow with energy. As if a child were drawing in the mud with a stick, glyphs began to appear in the ooze, from her hands to her shoulders and all the way down to her feet.

Her laughter was cut short by the glyphs, and she looked at them with a wide stare.

“Laurien, you are glowing.” Said Aaldir, but Laurien ignored him. Her silence was met with a high pitched warble as the glyphs began to sear themselves into her skin and the purple liquid absorb itself into her body. She could feel every pore become choked with the unholy substance, its magical energies whispering to her in speech beyond her comprehension. Then she saw it all. The form of the ABHORRENT. It’s will. The creation of his servants. The betrayal of the Program. Her own directive, and the weapon, the authority to make unclean what was clean.

The disgusting energies of SHEOL bonded with the goddess.

And just like that, it was over and reality set back in. She breathed heavily as her body shook with pervasive knowledge. She looked upon her skin to see the glyphs now apart of her form, but it was no matter. She changed her form back to what her original body had looked like and stood up. It was abundantly clear what the ABHORRENT wanted her to do, and now she had a back up plan in case any god sought to kill her. Though she would have to make some alterations…

Laurien looked upon her hands to see a spark of black wrap around her fingers before disappearing. She smiled, it was time to find some mortals.

---

"Mana is everywhere," Karamir told the eight Vallamir who stood before him, Valys and Lena among them. It was these six who had the natural power to use mana, and so it was these six he would teach. "Every element, every living thing... they all have their own type. When you manipulate an element, like fire or water, it is the specific type of mana within the element that you are controlling. Then there is raw mana... it can be converted into any other form of mana, but that requires more effort, and it can be dangerous. It would be wise to avoid wielding it until mastery over the safer types has been achieved," he lectured.

He then coached them through the process of harnessing mana. Find the object they intend to manipulate, and have them focus on the mana inside of it until they can move it with nothing more than their mind. As a mortal, it had taken Karamir much time and dedication before he could do anything noteworthy. He found, however, that with a simple touch, he could will that their own progress advance faster.

He had no intention of making them masters overnight, no. He had practiced for years just to reach his own level of adeptness, and if he instantly brought them to that level they would take it for granted, or misuse it - either accidentally or deliberately.

Valys had decided to focus on the manipulation of plants, while Lena focused on the ground itself. Others focused on air, as Karamir himself had started with, or water. Due to his minor blessings, they had already made ample progress. He left them to their practice, and walked the village grounds.

The mood was still sombre. The Cataclysm was still fresh on their memory, and they had only heard of Kalmar's death yesterday. Some believed another tragedy would befall them soon, and Karamir wanted to promise them it wouldn't... but he could not make such a guarantee. And now, he could hear whispers. Prayers. Those he had met and taught now turned their faith toward him instead. Some were for common problems, or small requests. May my Hunt be bountiful. Grant me the strength to overcome this fever. May my next child be a boy. Others were more grim. My brother is dying. I haven't eaten in days. All were beyond his ability to immediately solve.

Karamir wished he could help, but where were they? And who did he answer first? He realized it would only get worse as his name continued to spread. There were thousands upon thousands of Vallamir, Kalmar had told him. And that wasn't even getting to the Jotnar, or the followers Kalmar had elsewhere. Once Karamir made his name known to them...

Already, divinity felt like a tremendous weight on his shoulders, threatening to crush him and grind him into the ground. As it stood, he had no choice but to harden his heart and continue doing his work where he was. But as that decision was made, he felt as if a piece of him had slipped away.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. No wonder father was always so grim...

---

He had decided to unlock the potential for mana in nearly a dozen other Vallamir who seemed worthy enough. This had been one of his father's creations, and so he wanted to ensure they had the means to protect it even when he was not around. And to protect each other, too. Perhaps if more people knew this ability, the prayers would diminish.

However...

His hand fell to the scar in his side. The Vallamir he had met thus far were hospitable enough, but he knew that the other species had their moments of treachery and cruelty. Realistically, how could he expect his own species to be immune to such impulses?

"Everything alright?"

Karamir turned and was unsurprised to see that it was Karlyn who spoke. No other Vallamir would have so casually approached him and asked what was on his mind. Karamir merely shrugged in response. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Always good to think about things, isn't it?" Karlyn asked with a smirk, to which Karamir only nodded. "We're in grim times, aren't we?" Karlyn continued, the smirk vanishing. "The sky nearly fell... our god is dead... and who knows what else awaits us? I've been paying attention to the mood around here. Look at them," he gestured to the Vallamir around the camp. "they're frightened. Scared."

"I noticed." Karamir said, not following his hands.

"But," Karlyn continued. "I think that will pass with time. They're frightened and scared, yes, but they're relieved too. You're here, and you're taking the time to talk to them, and you're showing them a power they never even knew existed. That gives them hope. When their grief is gone, that hope will remain, I think."

"You think?" Karamir asked.

"I know," Karlyn corrected. "Faith is what holds us together. We were called here for a common purpose. We believed Kalmar favoured us, that he watched over us. To be honest," he looked around to ensure nobody was eavesdropping. "I don't truly know how much Kalmar did for us beyond giving us this place, or how closely he was watching us. It doesn't matter. Whatever it was, he did enough. It was this common purpose, this faith, this belief, that binded us together... more closely than Valys or I ever could."

"But with Kalmar dead," Karlyn continued. "That faith is broken. Or at least, it would have been if you hadn't stepped up. Like your father, you gave us something to believe in, and a goal to work toward. The rest is on us."

"What do you mean?" Karamir asked.

"I'm saying you've given us all we need. Thank you for that. Now there are others throughout Kalgrun who could use your aid." He shrugged. "I'm not saying you have to leave. I don't think even Valys has the right to send you away. It's just a suggestion. With your leave?" He did a half-turn, about to walk away.

Karamir nodded, and Karlyn departed.

Of course, he was going to leave at some point. He didn't need Karlyn to tell him that. What he was waiting for was the moment in which they were ready for him to leave... which Karlyn had just assured them they were.

Perhaps it was time to leave.

A distant screech was heard, followed by the distant cracking and splintering of trees. Vallamir throughout the camp froze in sudden shock and terror. "Spears and Slings!" Myla shouted, spurring them to action. "To me!"

Okay... perhaps it was not...

A colossal black griffin was the first to appear, flying over the wall and landing upon the temple roof. The Vallamir who had grabbed weapons and assembled around Myla froze. They lowered their weapons, evidently realizing there was little they could do against such a creature... but why did they appear relieved? The griffin fixated its gaze on Karamir. Karamir drew his weapon, and summoned raw mana to his hand, forming a fireball.

The splintering and crashing of timber came closer, and then two figures appeared above the wall. The first was a massive troll, nearly ten times the wall in height. The second was a huge wolf, its head resting on the wall itself. He had seen it before. It was familiar. But... it was missing an eye.

Then he recalled one of his telepathic conversations with Kalmar, from long ago, and he realized what - no, who - he was facing.

"Fenris," he said, eyes wide. "Gorm... Shynir..." The latter two he never met, but he knew by description.

---

Karamir had led them away from the Temple. Though their presence was familiar enough to the inhabitants that they did not view them as threats, it was still offputting nonetheless. Once they were far enough away, Karamir, floating above the trees, turned to them.

"Why... why are you here?" he asked, unsure if they could understand him.

"Father... dead..." Gorm spoke, somehow managing to convey grief through his deep, rough, animalistic voice. Fenris reared his head back and let out a mournful howl.

Shynir's head drooped in sadness. "Felt it..." she squawked.

In that moment Karamir felt pity. Kalmar had not mentioned what should be done with them. He supposed they were meant to answer to him now, but is that what they deserved? If he, Roog, and Makab could be considered Kalmar's children, were these three beasts not Kalmar's children too? Two of them were older than he was, and like him they had been Kalmar's creations alone.

When he thought about it, they were the closest thing he had to family. And in that moment, he realized family was something he desperately wanted.

"We can't speak like this," he suddenly said, an idea springing into his head. "You have been walking this land. Protecting it. Watching its people. But you've never been able to speak to them, to walk among them, to know how they live, have you?"

The three beasts shook their heads, confused at the sudden change in topic.

"Do you want that to change?" he asked next.

The beasts exchanged glances. And then, reluctantly, they nodded.

Karamir took a deep breath, unsure if what he was about to attempt would work. He looked to Fenris, and imagined the wolf in the form of a Vallamir. He did not imagine any specific features for this Vallamir; instead deciding that Fenris should have the right to choose that himself. Instead he simply poured power into the wolf.

Then Fenris began to change. Slowly, inch by inch, foot by foot, shrinking down into his new form. Karamir blinked. It was incredible. All he had to do was imagine... and his imagination could become reality.

The transformation had not been swift. It took a few minutes, at least. But when it was done, Fenris stood before him in the form of the Vallamir. Interestingly enough, the dark wolf had chosen pale skin, white hair, and grey eyes - not unlike that of Valys. He was six-and-a-half feet in height, and well-built. He glanced down at his new form, staring at his hands, and then up at Karamir.

"This is... strange..." Fenris said, testing out his voice - it was somewhat gruff, closely resembling Kalmar's.

"Try to change back," Karamir suggested.

Fenris did change back. The process took just as long, but when it was complete he was back in his full form without a single error or mishap. Karamir sighed with relief. While Fenris changed back to his Vallamir form once again, Karamir turned to Shynir and Gorm, and did the same.

But this time, changing Gorm had left him winded. Still, he pressed on, and went to change Shynir as well. He succeeded, but he found himself gasping, and when he lowered himself to the ground he fell to his knees. All three beasts looked at him in concern, but there was little they could do to help as they still shrank and shifted. Even gods had limits to their powers. Kalmar had told him that. And he wasn't even a god. He needed to be more careful...

After a few moments he had his breathing back under control, and after a little while longer he was able to rise back to his feet. He watched his three siblings go through the final stages of their transformation, and noted which forms they took.

There was, of course, Fenris with his white hair. Then there was Gorm, standing at seven feet in height, bald with bronze skin, a short black beard, and golden eyes. Lastly there was Shynir, who had taken the form of a voluptuous black-haired and golden-eyed Vallamir woman, six feet in height. Her lips curled into a smirk as she took in her own form.

Then a massive smile crossed Gorm's face. Her expresssion shifted to surprise and then fear as he wrapped his arms around her, hoisted her into the air, and squeezed. Her arms were pinned, but she could not fight back. A rather disturbing crack was heard which made Shynir hiss in pain and Karamir wince. Then Gorm set her down. "This is wonderful!" He laughed, as Shynir dropped to her knees.

Karamir rushed to her side to make sure she was alright. Meanwhile, Gorm moved on to Fenris. "No, no," the man-wolf protested as he backed away. Not as used to two legs as his bipedal brother, he tripped over the stump of a tree he had previously knocked over. "Stand down!" Even then he tried to scooch away, but Gorm wrapped his arms around him and lifted him off the ground. Another crack.

"Gorm, that's enough!" Karamir protested, and Gorm obediently let Fenris go.

"Little brother!" Gorm said with a wide smile, turning to him. "Thank you for this! We now speak as equals! Don't worry. Plenty of hugs to go around!" Then the man-troll stepped toward him, outstretching his arms once again.

"Not one step further!" Karamir shouted, the sudden forcefulness of his voice stopping Gorm in his tracks. Then, Karamir reached down to help Shynir to her feet. A smirk crossed her face as she took his hand, then wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in close for a hug of her own - this one much gentler. And Karamir suddenly felt uncomfortable.

He pulled away, much to Shynir's disappointment. "You all need clothes," he told them, matter-of-factly.

---

_{About 55 years from the Soul Heist}

---

Ohannakeloi had to admit, the Obelisk did look rather majestic poking above the tree line. He was down near where the Ihemol met the Orvar river as the mortals had taken to calling it. Some of the Ihokhetlani insisted on the Orvamol but it was significantly less popular, it mattered not. He had taken the Buajaoi back into the Ihomakwoi and lifted his keep up near the Obelisk itself. The Ihemol flowed not too far distant but the meeting point of the Orvar and the Ihemol was beyond the horizon at this altitude.

That was not truly important. What was important was that the priesthood was on its way. They had prayed to him shortly after he had taken his keep afield from the rest of the mortal population. He had told them his plans. They had started out soon after that, not truly all of them, only a few of the Ihokhetlani priests elected to come given the situation at hand. He was proud that they chose to continue assist their compatriot mortals over simply coming to receive gifts, it showed good promise for what was to come.

An Ihokhetlani priest called out, Hase, “Divine Ohannakeloi! You were vague but you have promised us much. Although we do not deny your gifts we must protest that you have done much for us already! We are greatly indebted to you already but we are pleased that our meager efforts of recompense have seen such reply so readily!”

“Fairly direct Hase, but nonetheless true enough as well. Full truth however, I am impressed by what you have accomplished so far here, but I do need to leave I fear. There is much elsewhere that I need to know, to learn. SO I must leave, but I will not leave without giving gifts.” As he spoke the great group grew closer to the Obelisk and the Ihomakwoi on which Ohannakeloi perched.

“Here are my gifts onto you,” Once again, many of the Vallamir and Nebulites felt the pulsing additions to their knowledge as had when they landed a decade prior. “Knowledge of the Ehofi Script and its process, as well as construction and workings of simple boats. Most importantly I give a set of righteous commands and moral warnings into your minds so that you are guided even in my physical absence.”

“Hase, Valdemerl, Solun, Nebuli, Aefsige…” Light shined upon them as he spoke their names, imbuing them with power. “I name you studious and holy persons as my chief representatives. I name the Holy Synod of Recorders, Archivists and Explorers of the Temple. I know each of you and trust you to guide the priesthood and through them to guide all peoples of faith. Recorders to seek and write all that is known, Archivists to preserve and analyze what is known, and Explorers to expand what is known. You may be one of these things, you may be all of these things.”

Ohannakeloi paused as he gathered himself for one final act.

“And now for the Temple that shall be bastion of your faith and my power here, behold the Temple Ziggurat.”

With that announcement, loud sounds exploded forth. Across the river Orvar, trees and underbrush, dirt and animal alike, all were pushed aside from a wave of stone from deep in Galbar. Beasts and birds bolted from the collapsing forest as the Ziggurat rose out of the earth, it radiated the deep power of Stone and its resonance with Ehomakwoi. The crowd of priests gawked, although many had heard of Divine exploits, it was quite another thing to see that power and to feel it first hand.

The structure arose, fifteen times the height of an Ihokhetlani, and its base much larger in a rectangular form. There were seven levels and three staircases, a central one facing directly towards the Obelisk and two smaller ones along the long sides of the base. Each of the first six levels on the front side had one of Ohannakeloi’s guiding phrases on each side in the Ehofi script, carved into the stone. The Seventh level had one bisected by the staircase, ‘Fairness is paramount - in all things’.The two long sides, with the secondary staircases, had inlaid designs of animals and beasts and beings of Ohannakeloi. The rear side was decorated with Ohannakeloi’s symbols but also smaller lists of the commands of Ohannakeloi on each level.

Each level was decorated ornately, with stone railings and designs on the walkways around the Ziggurat structure. Relatively small entrances dotted the levels, allowing access to central passages in the Ziggurat that brought forward secret rooms and locations.

“I will remain in the general area for a while yet, but soon I shall journey once more. I will return in time.” With that and no further time for questions, the Ihomakwoi took off upwards into the sky. Ohannakeloi gave time to think, and to rest after such an exertion.

---

"So that's it, then. He's gone."

Karamir looked to Shynir and nodded sadly.

The four sat under the shade of a large tree. All three of Karamir's siblings now wore furs and animal skins. Fenris had donned the garments without complaint, while Shynir and Gorm had tried to protest the necessity of clothing, but Karamir managed to convince them otherwise.

Now, a melancholic mood had swept over them, their initial reactions to their new forms swept aside as the topic that brought them to Karamir in the first place inevitably came up again. Kalmar's death.

"We walked these lands for years," Fenris said, his gaze downcast. Even in his Vallamir form, he was still missing an eye. Either he had chosen not to give his new form one, or he had been unable. "We guarded it against threats. Kept order. All for him. And now, he's gone..."

"I killed so many ghouls for him," Gorm whispered, staring at his hands.

"Does Melantha know?" Shynir had asked.

"Melantha?" Karamir asked as Fenris looked up. The wolfman and the birdwoman exchanged a glance, while Gorm seemed confused.

"The Goddess of Darkness..." Fenris said.

"They were close," Shynir added.

Karamir sighed. "If I ever see her, I'll tell her," he told them. Like I've had to tell everyone else... Everytime he spoke of it, it became easier to talk about, yet it still hurt.

"Listen," Karamir said after an awkward silence. "You're the closest thing I have to siblings." Fenris and Gorm nodded immediately at this, while Shynir bit her tongue. [color=yellow]"Our father wanted me to take up his role as protector of this land, and I intend to honour that request. But I can't do alone. Whatever obligation you had to Father, I won't hold you to it. If you wish to move on, you are free to leave and pursue your own goals. But... I would appreciate it if you stayed."

"Oh, brother!" Gorm grinned. "Of course I'll stay!" He pounded a fist on Karamir's knee, causing the Hunter's Son to wince slightly.

"I see no reason to abandon my duty," Fenris said seriously, with a nod of his head.

"Leave this land?" Shynir shook her head, and smiled. "I've watched them for years. Now, I can finally be one of them..."

Karamir sighed with relief. "Thank you," he said.

"So, why don't you tell us of your own travels?" Shynir asked him.

---

And so, he had. Everything from when the point where he left the Palace of Dreams. But eventually, he reached the point where he had visited Laurienna. He realized he would have to tell them about Laurien, which meant he had to tell them about her attempt to kill Orvus so they would understand why she tried to kill him. And while he was at it, he figured he might as well mention that, as revealed to him by Arae, it was Laurien's attempt to kill Orvus which led to Abraxas's creation - the being that killed his own father.

So, Karamir opened with Laurien's attempted patricide and Abraxas's creation, and then described his visit to Laurienna, eventually concluding in the decayal of his soul and his escape.

"She did what?" Shynir asked, wide-eyed, as Fenris grit his teeth and Gorm clenched his fists.

"She tried to kill me to keep a secret that wasn't even a secret, and then decayed my soul when that didn't work, yes," Karamir confirmed bitterly.

"And all for... for nothing..." Shynir hissed, as anger overtook her and her own fists curled into balls. "We should flay her alive... and make her eat her own skin..."

"Smashing in her skull would do it," Gorm shrugged.

"So long as she dies, it doesn't matter how," Fenris said drily, before looking to Shynir. "Though, the longer it takes, the more likely the prey is to escape..."

Shynir returned his gaze but then dropped it, conceding the argument. "Fine," she said, and then looked back to Karamir. "She'll still die for this, right?" she asked.

Karamir hesitated for a moment. "We need more information," he said, after a moment's thought.

"More information?" Fenris asked, perplexed. "What else is there to know? She nearly killed you."

"I need to know why," Karamir said.

"But you know why!" Shynir protested. "She thought you were going to learn that she tried to kill her own father, and wanted to silence you before you found out."

Karamir shook his head. "That's not what I meant," he said. "Why did she think killing me was the best way to keep her secret? Why did she try to kill her own father in the first place? Who else has she killed? What drove her to do all that?"

"Does it matter?" Shynir asked. "Whatever happened to her, she still chose her path. She's the reason our creator is dead!"

"It does matter," Karamir said quietly, not entirely believing it himself. In truth, there was a part of him that wanted to see Laurien dead. To run her through with his sword. To smile and gloat while she suffered, as she had done to him. To find out how to decay a soul, and then rip hers to shreds. To return the pain that was inflicted on him. And to succeed where she had failed, so she would never hurt anyone again. He then imagined her city in flames and ruin, and its people...

No. No.

He shook the thoughts off. Vengenace would not serve him. The only thing that might be gained from the death of Laurien is the knowledge that she couldn't hurt anybody again, but he needed more information to determine if such a permanent solution was truly necessary. And her city? Some had tried to overthrow her and her 'royal family.' Whatever fate she deserved, surely not all of them deserved to share in it?

Then there was Arya. She would not condone him for such an action. She would hate him for it. And somehow, that reason alone proved almost as compelling as his previous argument.

"We need more information," he insisted.

---

Of course, no such information could be found on Kalgrun. So, for now, Karamir would continue doing what he was doing, and it was time to resume his travels.

He had decided that of the three, one would accompany him - acting as a guide and giving him advice. Fenris seemed best suited for such a role. The others - Shynir and Gorm - would fall back into their role as guardians of the continent. Karamir also showed them the Knife of Friendship, and how they could call upon it.

"Just be sure to take me next time," Shynir had smiled.

"Good luck, brother!" Gorm had said, before unexpectedly throwing himself forward and embracing Karamir in one of the dreaded spine-cracking hugs.

Afterward they had parted ways. Karamir and Fenris simply walked across the water, with Fenris in his human form, while Gorm and Shynir transformed back into their original forms behind him. Karamir smiled. Despite their eccentricities, he liked them both.

So, for days, he and Fenris wandered, taking the time to teach mana to whoever they came across. He had given Fenris the Blackened Bow, because, while unatturally strong and powerful for a Vallamir, the man still needed a weapon.

They walked through the swamps situated around the Hunter's Eye lake, with Karamir at one point having to wrestle a crocodile to death. They had given it to a nearby band of hunters, who had been grateful enough... only for Karamir to once again dash someone's hopes by breaking the tragic news of Kalmar's death.

In the meantime, he continued to practice and teach mana. Abilities which took him months if not weeks to begin to pick up could now be grasped in a matter of hours or minutes. Fire, earth, plants... even his personal control over the naturally-volatile raw mana had increased. Wherever the golden streams could be found, he had power.

All he asked of those he taught was that they spread the news regarding the death of Kalmar, his own ascension, and his teachings of mana wherever they could. Karlyn had said that people needed faith, and so, he would give it to them.

Then days became weeks. They followed the Nuhe River eastward. As they met new people, Karamir discovered fascinating new details regarding the culture they had developed. One of the tribes they encountered was performing a ceremony called a 'marriage', taught to them by the Goddess Arae, in which two people pledged themselves to each other for life.

"It is a mating ritual," Fenris had tried to explain, but Karamir realized he had heard of this concept before. Keibrik had warned him against it, back in the Palace of Dreams. Yet in this particular instance, the two people who were at the center of it all seemed genuinely content. For once, he decided to withhold revealing Kalmar's fate, not wishing to spoil the mood.

For a moment, he wondered what it would be like if had someone who made him feel that way... and felt the same way about him. But he was a god. Did he truly have time for such endeavors?

Eventually they reached the coast. Karamir began to hear whispers of something called 'The Endless Bridge.' He looked to Fenris for guidance.

Fenris only shrugged. "It was built by Li'Kalla," he said. "When the Vallamir were created, she led thousands of them across it. They never came back."

"Nobody knows what happened to them?" Karamir asked. Many had claimed they knew, but every story was different. Usually the conclusion was that they were dead, they had found paradise, or they were still wandering to this day.

Fenris shrugged. "Some tried to follow them afterward. The ones that come back say it's endless. That they found the bones of others who tried to walk the same path, only to starve to death."

The ones who starved being the ones who didn't come back. That was clear enough. "Someone has to find out what happened to them," Karamir decided. "Let's go."

Taking Fenris's hand, it did not take them long to reach the bridge's location. They could have travelled the plains at a similar speed, but Karamir had opted for a more thorough and intensive exploration."It's made of... solid water?" he asked, stepping on it with one foot to confirm. "I suppose she is the Goddess of Rain..." he marvelled at its design for only a few moments, before extending a hand to Fenris. It was time to continue.

They sped across the bridge, stopping only at the occasional skeleton or set of bones. It was terrifying to think about. The idea of a lone soul wandering a seemingly endless expanse. Not knowing if it would take him anywhere. Hunger and thirst slowly waring him down. It reminded him of his time in the Infinite Maze. He shuddered. He had been lucky then. But now... he feared what he might find on the other end of this bridge.

They dropped the bones into the ocean below. It was better, he decided, than leaving them to be worn down by heat and rain.

Eventually they did reach the end, and they found not a vast field of bones as Karamir had feared, but another landmass. A landmass with vegetation, and life.

"I'm not sure this is paradise," Karamir said, inspecting a tree. "But at least it means most of them might still be alive."

---

---

“Two and five! Odds!”

Groans and snarls emitted from the majority of the players while a small minority giggled and snickered as they collected equal shares of round and smooth pebbles. Lady Helionna squeezed the bridge of her nose in disappointment and slapped a new bet onto the stone table. Behind her, a pair of guard stared stonefaced down at their lady spending the remains of her family’s wealth so frivolously. Not that they cared much, though - they would be hired by someone else when the House of Philapoly eventually went bankrupt.

“Make your bets, ladies and gentlemen,” said the dealer with a grin and threw the dice into his cup. As he lidded the cup with his hand and shook it about, the other players began laying out their pebbles. Helionna bit down on her nail - these were her last pebbles. If she lost, she would have to--

“Alright, everyone!” the dealer said and slammed the cup opening down onto the table. “Evens or odds?”

The players shouted their bets: “Odds! Odds! Evens! Odds! Evens! Odds! Odds! Odds!” Lady Helionna knew there was little reason to bet alongside the majority: It was a fifty-fifty chance to win, and if she won with the majority, the output would be less.

“Evens!” she shouted at last and the dealer lifted the cup.

“One and two - odds!”

Colour left her fiery skin as her pebbles were collected. She considered screaming out loud that she had misspoken - that she really had said ‘odds’. Of course, no one would believe that. She was already well acquainted with this particular establishment, and its frequenters were even better acquainted with her, and since the other casino was destroyed along with the rest of the East River slums. Curse that fire rain - it set back her gambling weeks.

Oh, right, the loss of life and the slaves was gruesome, too.

Helionna turned to one of the guards behind her, fingering the golden necklace dangling below her throat. Reluctantly, she gently took it off and offered it to the guard. “See how much the broker will give me for this.”

The guards had never been loyal to her person, this she knew - they were bound by contract alone (or rather, the sums promised in the contract); however, in spite of this, the guard shook her head and said, “My lady, it would be unwise to exchange the family sigil for stone pebbles.”

A pang of guilt stabbed Helionna in the chest and she retracted her hand. Looking defeatedly at her feet, she nodded and said, “Yes… Yes, you’re right. That was… Reckless of me.” She turned to the dealer and gave him a nod. “I will be taking my leave.”

“You are always welcome back at our establishment, Lady Helionna,” the dealer replied with a knowing smirk. Helionna smiled uncomfortably and left, her two guards following faithfully behind.

This particular casino was in a third tier district infamously known as The Pits. It was the slum of the slums, far away from the finer establishments like the wine houses and night markets. In truth, two guards weren’t enough for a high-profile lady like Helionna, at least not ideally. However, every savvy scoundrel in these parts knew her well, and knew particularly well how shallow her pockets were. The creatures that roamed the streets here were either way wholly uninterested in her at the moment, their days already busy enough with survival. The lady sighed, donned her brown, shaggy cloak and moved towards the upper tiers. Flanking the streets were beggars by the tens, Nebulites cast out from the higher tiers, former slaves or… Or those disgusting things...

She passed one that same moment. Her stomach turned and she felt the need to gag. It was pink-skinned, but not the crystalline, beautiful hue of their former queen or any others who shared such a beautiful complexion. This was a greasy pink, utterly animalistic without a shade of divinity like the Nebulites. It had facial features similar to hers, but they were primal and beastly. Their builds were similar to the Pygmies, but wholly hairless except the top of their heads.

They had shown up not long after Pygmy slaves and emissaries came to Laurienna. She was quite aware of where exactly they had come from - the mothers were quite vocal about their relationships with the apes. Truly, it was only natural that the children would turn out like they did - being the product of an ape and a Nebulite.

One of her guards gargled up a ball of phlegm and spat it onto the child’s forehead. “Off the streets, you disgusting human!” The child barely made a sound and scuttled into an alley. The guard yelled after it: “Know your place!”

Human. The name given to these abominations. It had started as a joke - the first sound anyone made upon seeing one was, after all, a loud ‘ew!’ or ‘hyew!’, or something along those lines. As time went on, it stuck.

Helionna was glad the guard had gotten the human off the street - it was a dark reminder of what her people had done in exchange for gold and slaves.

It took them roughly fifty minutes to reach the upper tier and the palace. While her house was still a distance away, she had a sneaking suspicion the king was holding council - a duty she ought to attend to. She climbed the stairs up towards the pyramid palace, flanked by another noble who laid on a clay platform carried by eight ikhobos - Talemonese slaves. Helionna knew him well, this noble - it was Andrometan, head of House Terra. He offered her an absent-minded nod.

“Ah, lady Helionna, a beautiful day today, is it not?”

Helionna offered the blue skies a look. “Yes, I suppose it is. Flood season is right around the corner, His Lordship be kind. This should make for a good autumn.”

“So it seems, so it seems,” Andrometan agreed. “Tell me, where is your carrybed?”

Helionna swallowed and looked away. “I-... I felt like walking today. Even the noble houses need exercise occasionally, no?”

Andrometan replied simply with a smirk and patted the bed twice. The ikhobo increased their pace and were soon at the top of the stairs long before Helionna was there. She huffed and gave her wordless guards quick glances - their expressions remained wooden.

A number of uneventful moments later, she arrived at last in the dark throne room. There were cacophonous mumblings coming from all manner of noble cliques around the great hall, all of which formed a crescent around the throne in the room’s far end. Upon it sat the king, Omnipotens the Proud, a boy of four. Next to him stood Prospero, the royal master of wealth and the one currently powerful enough to hold the position as regent in Laurien’s absence. Helionna took her rightful place among the other noble houses, to the right side of the hall and opposite of the wealthy, but not noble. The regent Prospero motioned for all to rise and spoke, “His glorious Majesty, Omnipotens III, the Proud, king of all of Asteria and its people, welcomes you to offer your counsel. Let no word be unspoken; let no lie be told; let respect rule our actions; and our future shall unfold.”

The regent bowed and poked the boy king on the shoulder; he was playing with a toy in his lap. The king looked up and blinked, then said, “B-be seated,” and everyone sat. Prospero smiled gratefully at the king and spoke,

“The first point to address will be the situation in the slave markets. The royal court has noted that the number of slaves bought and sold has considerably dropped. As all are aware, this commodity is central to Laurienna’s economy, and the loss of the markets would grind this city’s production to a halt. Lord Zius, have you a report?”

A plain clothed Nebulite stood up from where he sat. His skin was black as night and he was bald. He was built well, and there was depth within his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was deep and refined. “The report is much the same, Lord Regent. As you all know, a band of well armed Dari are disrupting the trade route between Laurienna and Talemon. They are also attacking and killing those slavers who are still brave enough to venture out. With the trade route disrupted, and the roaming bands preventing us from catching fresh slaves, these problems will not go away.”

“I see… So the Dari have still not been dealt with. Where is general Epsilon?” Prospero demanded.

“Last seen leaving Laurienna, I believe,” came a snarky comment from Andrometan, who was still lying on his clay bed. “He was in quite a hurry, too.”

Prospero wrinkled his nose. “Great… Vice-general Enigmaron.”

A tall woman clad in simple clothing and wielding a star-forged spear stepped up and bowed before the king and regent. “Yes, lord Prospero?”

“Congratulations. You have been promoted to general. Double the escorts for the slaver caravans and see to it that your old superior is not allowed to live past next week.” The general nodded. “Will this be enough, lord Zius?”

“It will suffice for now, but the Dari grow bolder each passing day. If they are not crushed completely, then I fear our good city will be their next target.” he said, sitting down.

Prospero hummed. “The royal coffers can perhaps offer additional bounties if the returns are high enough. Lady Phantasma, how did the last emissaries like the king’s tribute?”

Lady Phantasma, diplomat to the Talemonese, stood up and smiled. “Your Majesty, lord regent - the visitors quite enjoyed the gifts of brides and grooms, just as His Majesty predicted they would.”

Prospero nodded. “I take it demand is high for more?”

Phantasma nodded back. “Very much so, lord regent. The Talemonese ‘oludari’ are very grateful for our lovely sons and daughters, and their introduction have spurred more of the Talemonese to make high bids for a lover of their own.”

Prospero eyed Zius. “Lord Zius, your caravans are responsible for escorting concubines to Talemon. How many guards and carriers would you need to escort twenty?”

“Twenty caravans? A hundred soldiers, at least, if not more.” he said.

“Lady Helionna, what are the soldiers’ wages again?”

Helionna snapped into motion and bowed. “T-three sun dimes, lord regent.”

“Three sun dimes…” Prospero mumbled. “Three sun dimes… Per soldier?”

Helionna nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Prospero sighed and shook his head. “Three fucking sun dimes, by Orvus… It’s a marvel that the soldiers aren’t the wealthiest of us.” There came some chuckles from a number of the nobles and wealthy. Helionna’s guards remained stonefaced. Prospero pursed his lips. “The coffers will look into it, Lord Zius. Until an answer is found, you shall have seventy.”

The man narrowed his eyes and said, “So be it then. Let us hope the trip goes without incident. I would hate to see more Nebulite blood spilled.”

“Mhm, wouldn’t we all,” Prospero agreed. “We shall do everything in our power to ensure that you receive your funding. However, until we can be certain, you will have to make due.”

“Of course, Lord Regent.” Zius said smoothly.

“Perfect. Right, onto the next target on the agenda--”

“Lord regent, if I may,” said the general. Prospero nodded.

“Yes, general Enigmaron?”

“Do we even have seventy guards at our disposal?”

Prospero’s brows furrowed and chatter began to foment. “What do you mean? Of course, we do.”

“Lord regent, I think you are overestimating our numbers,” the general proposed. “The royal army is already stretched as thin as it can. Keeping order is far from a simple task, and--”

“Be quiet, general! Lady Helionna, you speak for the noble houses. How many soldiers can you offer?”

Helionna froze. ‘Speak for the noble houses’ was as far from her job description as one could get. She was a glorified accountant at best, one tasked with monitoring the spendings of her peers.

Not that she could monitor even her own, anyway.

“I-I… I reckon we can--”

“Twelve, lord regent,” general Enigmaron said with a frown.

“Twelve?” Prospero gasped. “And how many of those--”

“Nine are commanding the city’s guards - the remaining three are currently in this very room.” Her eyes shifted to three faces, all of which looked away to avoid her glare. “They are ‘off duty’, to be blunt.”

Prospero sighed. “And what of the conscripts?”

Enigmaron shrugged. “If we offer higher wages, we could--”

“No! The wages remain the same,” Prospero insisted.

“Less than five hundred, then,” Enigmaron replied coldly. “We’ll be lucky if we can even muster that many.”

The chatter in the hall reached a deafening volume. Prospero sat down in the only slightly less beautiful throne next to the king’s and leaned his head on a balled fist. Etherian, another market lord, shouted out, “How will we finance all of this city if the caravans cannot come through?!”

“Take the guards away from nobles. They don’t need them more than we do!”

“What was that?! Do you even know how many would kill us for the gold about our persons?!”

“Then leave it at home!”

The chatter turned to arguments, and the arguments to accusations. The boy king had long since left the room, escorted out by his royal guard. Prospero tried his best to calm the situation, but failed miserably. Helionna took a seat by the wall and laid her cheek in her hand as fights began to break out between the wealthy and the nobility. It was true that they hadn’t the numbers. Over the last ten years, their population had been halved - the worst of it transpiring but a year ago during the apocalypse. They were still just picking up the pieces.

It was then that a tall figure entered the throne room, shrouded in a cloak of night, silencing the room as the guards moved in close. It came to a stop in the middle of the room, but said nothing.

“What’s the meaning of this, then?” said Prospero and stood up. Helionna approached, hiding behind a number of others. The regent pointed at the figure and demanded, “You there! Reveal yourself or suffer the fate of all those who enter the throne room uninvited.”

”Do not threaten the one who had this city built at her behest.” the voice rang out, sweet and pure. ”Or have you forgotten the one who gave you everything you ever wanted?” the figure then pulled back her hood, revealing the beautiful face of Laurien.

The surrounding Nebulites gasped; a number of them fell to their knees; a number of them reached for their weapons.

“Oh, glorious Laurien, you’re back!” sounded general Enigmaron with joyful tears.

“You traitor! She murdered the queen and her closest!” spat another in the far back before being apprehended by a pair of guards.

”No.” she said, looking at the guards. ”Bring him here.”

The nobleman was brought to the front. It was immediately evident that he was related to the late Titanon - they shared the strong jaw-line and powerful build. Helionna noted that he had been among the officers who were ‘off duty’. He battled against the guards’ grips, but ultimately faced Laurien unmoving.

“You should have never come back, betrayer,” the officer spat in her face.

But Laurien simply smiled and touched a finger to his head. ”Your desire for revenge, is over. Now you will only have love for the one you seek most. An insatiable thirst, for the girl your heart desires. Let him go, he will not harm me.” she said to the guards.

The man unclenched his fists. Slowly, he knelt down before Laurien and lowered his lips to her feet. The onlookers were stunned. Prospero spat, “Wha-... What did you do to him? What manner of power have the gods granted you of all people?”

”Me of all people? Is that anyway to talk to a demigod? Especially the one who has cared for all of you, since the first day you entered this world?” she mused.

“A demigod? Blasphemic arrogance!” Prospero retorted. “Had His Lordship heard you say that, he would’ve--”

“You will be silent before our queen!” boomed suddenly the officer at Laurien’s feet. Prospero stopped and shifted around uncomfortably.

”Tell me… Who has helped you more, his Lordship, or me?” she asked, patting the man’s head before her.

“Th-that would…” Prospero struggled to find words. “That question is heresy in itself!”

”Now now. Heresy is such a convoluted word.” she said smiling. ”His Lordship provided the land you live on, and through his good graces, you have been able to endure. Worship of him, is paramount to the survival of this Empire but… Can you not worship another? There are many gods and goddesses, some who care, others who do not, but the ones who care for you the most, are the demigods of this world. I do not come to take over, or to be a queen. I simply come to ask that you love me, as I have always loved you.” she said.

“She -was- the hand of Polyastera, it’s true. Whatever she commanded, Laurien did,” general Enigmaron voiced supportively. “No one has done more for us than her. From summoning His Lordship to enslaving the Dari to undoing the rebels against the former queen.” She gave Laurien a smiling nod and bowed her head. “You have my love, o beautiful.”
“And mine,” another noble said and knelt. More and more joined in, until the only ones standing were Prospero, Helionna, and another officer.

Laurien’s gaze fell upon them, but it was neither cruel or angry. She went from Prospero, to the officer and the finally Helionna. She gave her a wolfish smile, before looking at the others. ”Rise… All is well. What I ask now is that you spread this love to others, but never forget, His Holiness must come first, for not even I can defend you all from his wrath.”

The Nebulites all rose and let out warm cheers in Laurien’s honour. The three who hadn’t knelt stared uncomfortably at one another and then tried not to meet Laurien’s gaze.

”You make me all so happy. Now tell me… What is the current state of Laurienna and Asteria?” she asked. The cheers stopped. Prospero drew a breath.

“We were just discussing that, actually…”

“We are not doing very well, my lady,” Enigmaron admitted. “After you disappeared, no one knew who would take over, and then the Rain of Death happened, and…” The majority of the Nebulites were looking at the floor. “We are but half of what we once were,” she finished.

”Hmm. Concerning, but not completely unsalvageable. You must have many, many babies. The population of Nebulites must rise.” she said, walking amongst them.

“That would not be an issue, my lady,” Andrometan chuckled from his clay bed. “We are, after all, quite good at that. With time, our population will no doubt grow, provided the sky doesn’t rain fire again.”

“Unfortunate circumstance that.” she said absentmindedly as she paused before Helionna. The lady looked down at her feet and swallowed, saying nothing. She moved on from her and paused before the throne, running a finger on before looking at Prospero. ”And how are Polly’s children doing?”

Prospero smiled vaguely. “A-ah. The king and his sister are quite well, my lady. I believe they are both in their respective rooms as we speak. They… They still mourn their siblings from time to time, of course, but we’ll make monarchs of them yet.”

”Good.” she said simply, walking over to Enigmaron, and then whispering something into her ear. The woman smiled, as Laurien moved on and said aloud, ”Solutions to problems come in many different forms… And not always are they so easily discernible. One must think outside of the box, the mind per say, to come up with answers.” she said cryptically.

“W-what do you mean?” Prospero asked.

She smiled but did not answer right away as she moved to the center of the room again. There she turned to look at the Nobles again and said, ”Other times, you must take what you want. By any means necessary.” She looked between Prospero and Helionna again, ”So, what will you do?”

Prospero scanned the throne room and then let out a sheepish laugh. “I-... I, uhm… I believe we have an agenda to continue, so I will just… Proceed with that.” He swallowed, his eyes shifting to the throne next to him. A wanton pulse burned in his gaze and he barely managed to tear his eyes away from it. “R-right… The financing…”

“Financing,” Helionna mumbled to herself. “... Yeah, I could use some of that.”

The hall turned to her in confusion and the lady suddenly realised she had thought out loud. A supportive hand landed on her shoulder. “That’s nice, my lady,” said one of her fellow nobles, one named Geonosis. “But we are discussing the army now - not your personal coffers.” Helionna lowered her gaze.

”Go on then. Discuss and I shall listen. Pay me no mind.” she said smiling.

“Th-thank you, my lady,” said Prospero and sat down on his throne - only, it wasn’t his throne. He had sat himself in the king’s seat, and only after he noticed the troubled expressions clouding the faces of everyone in the room did he realise. He rocketed back to his feet and switched seats post-haste.

“Right!” he thundered. “The funding… Wait, we were past that, weren’t we?”

“Lord regent, are you well?” asked the general with concern.

“W-why, yes, quite well!” Prospero assured, furthering the worry of the onlookers. “What was next, lady Helionna?”

“... I could maybe buy the casino and…”

“Lady Helionna?”

The lady snapped to. “Huh?! Yes?!”

“What was next on the agenda?” Prospero asked again.

“O-oh! Uhm, I believe we were about to discuss the farms?”

“Ah, yes, the farms…”

---

“Shush!”

“This was my hiding spot!”

“I said be quiet, Tak’Takk!”

“B-but, I was here first!”

The two children glared at each other before they heard the running of feet and the whipping of shrubs, bringing a silence to their bickering. Tak’Takk, a boy just of ten years, peeked his head out to glare between the leaves of the shrubs that he and his sister were hiding in. His head was a full red, but his eyes were as gray as could be, making him the only Valthumir in his family. Meanwhile, his sister, his senior by perhaps a few minutes, clasped his shoulders as she too tried to gaze out of the shrubs.

They saw nothing.

Their game of hide and seek had grown tense, as another child had grown closer and closer only for the sounds of running and shrubs breaking to come to a sudden halt. They again tried to see where their friend had gone, this time seeing his feet and a knee against the ground as he inspected the shallow tracks had. The two knew then and there that they had been found, and as they saw their friend stand up and take a single step towards their shrub, a shadowed mass blurred past and suddenly their friend was gone.

The keen eyes of the kids had barely been able to register what had happened.

“What was that?” the sister had whispered.

“I don’t know, Tek,” the boy answered, leaning closer to see what had happened before deciding to move back, “I think it’s a trick.”

“He doesn’t play tricks, Tak,” the sister hissed in a silence, shoving him to the side ever so slightly.

“What do you mean? He played a trick on me the other day!” Tak’Takk argued, pushing back and digging his fingers into the ground before a noise to their left caught their attention. It must have been their friend, so the two pressed themselves closer to the ground, nearly pushing the other out of the hiding spot. Eventually, the steps got softer and softer as the sounds originated farther and farther before, making the children giggle in the cleverness to hide from their friend.

Tak’Takk poked his head out of the shrub, laughing as silently as he could. He would eventually crawl out of his hiding space before confusion wracked his face as he looked where his friend had been. The boy did not see any footprints of his friend, in fact, he could barely see tracks to what had moved past their hiding spot in general. He leaned down to see further, only to see barely noticeable indentation of what looked like bird feet, though he was no hunter, he could only guess that some large bird had come by. Tak’Takk’s first thought was perhaps a hawk, but it must have been one large hawk to have been making a track like this.

“Tek! Look at this bird track! “ he urged his sister, almost jumping up and down in excitement at discovering something so big. His excitement grew into impatience as he went to drag his sister out of the bush, his sister who slapped his hand in annoyance.

She looked at the track and immediately her look of annoyance morphed into excitement. “Wow!” she exclaimed as she looked even closer, “How big do you think that bird is?!”

“Like this~ big!” Tak’Takk said, holding his hands out to show a possible wingspan of the bird before his sister stood up.

“Nu uh! It’s this big!” Tek laughed making her arms stretch out even more, attempting to make a bird bigger than her brother.

Before the two could start another competition they heard the voice of their father in the nearby , “Tak’takk! Tek!” The two could only glare at each other before racing each other through the trees only to meet their father at the treeline. He stood over them, arms crossed, with his red hair tied back into a ponytail.

“Tak’takk, weren’t you supposed to help your mother earlier? Tek, are you not meant to help gather firewood for the evening?” the father asked, the two children only looking down knowing how they had gotten distracted by their game.

“W-we were playing San’Kek,” Tak’Takk explained timidly, only hearing the father sigh before going down onto his knee. He felt his father’s touch on his shoulder, his father raising Tak’Takk’s chin so that he may look his son in his eyes.

“I know the allure of play, Tak’Takk, but we all must work to keep our people alive, you know this,” he said, shoving aside emotion to make sure the child knew the priorities of the people came before play. Tak’Takk could only silently nod as his father stood back up, raising his spear as he stepped past the children. “Go on, go do your duties,” the father said before walking off.

The two children looked at each other before running back to the people so that the people may thrive.

---

Hours had passed, day twisting into the sick night as a full moon echoed over the land and bathed the land in a dark light. The people were quick to settle into their huts in order to escape the terrors that lived during the night, eager to to hunt for their next meal. However, one family was less than eager to settle in and it was the father that went to the family of Tak’Takk, at their door with worry and spear in hand.

The boy could hear the talk from his bed, picking up the worried voice, “San’Kek has yet to come home! We don’t know what to do.”

“”Do you know where he might be?” Tak’Takk’s father asked in a hushed tone in an attempt to not worry his children, or wake them up for that matter.

“He disappeared during the day, but-,” the other paused for a moment as he collected himself, “Other families are having their children going missing, all of them from today.”

Tak’Takk could hear the gasp from his father, then some shuffling about before his father spoke again, “We will not lose anymore children, come we need to search for them.” Their voices faded into the distance, Takk’Takk could hear his mother shuffling about as she checked both of her children, laying a hand on each. The worry should have left the child, but there was no calm knowing that his friends had been going missing. Had he and his sister been lucky? Perhaps they were just playing a big trick that he was not invited into.

Whatever was the case, Tak’Takk knew not what to make of the situation and he would have focused far more on the well being of his friends had he not heard something outside the walls of his hut. At first he thought it was his father, but then he heard the sound of claws scraping against wood, and a light giggle of a girl. His head shot up as he looked out, seeing his mother exit the hut to investigate the sound before quickly returning to go for a club.

“Mother, what’s going on?” Tak’Takk asked worriedly, his sister waking up from her sleep Isaiah a more than confused look on her face.

The mother stepped towards her children and went to speak, “Be quiet, there is-“

Something jumped on her back, knocking her forward and as she went to scream, her sound became gargling and gasping for air. Tak’Takk could not believe that sight in front of him, for what he saw was far from natural. He saw, standing over his mother’s corpse, the frame of a bird, lacking feathers and flesh and even anything that belonged on the inside of the body. Blood travelled down its hand, it’s talons, as it dropped whatever had come out of his mother’s throat. The boy was too terrified to scream as its glowing green eyes focused on the boy.

“Wrath will be so happy with me!~” It said in a sing song voice as it stepped towards the frightened children, reaching out to them.”Come my children~ We must leave this place,” she said, grabbing Tek’s hand, causing the child to scream in true terror. The skeleton recoiled in surprise for a moment before putting her bloody hand to the child’s mouth before a swift movement caused the girl to fall unconscious.
“Welp. Guess that could’ve gone better,” she said with a laugh before its green eyes looked to see the boy who was terrified beyond reasonable belief. He pressed his back against the wall as the skeleton took a step towards the child before leaping forwards.

---

“These things are smart,” a voice whispered, watching a line of Vallamir move in front of them, its glowing eyes watched them take note of the strange tracks from where the first child had been abducted. They were a distance away, hidden in the branches of a tree as it looked over to the other Aroiox. “They might find where we put them,” it growled, before the other put out an affirming hand. While unable to show expression, Wrath knew what Vigilance meant, knowing that they had a duty to their people.

“We just need Ecstasy and Terror to get back with the last two. Loathing and Grief will be able to keep the children hidden, all we have to do is make sure they stay confused,” Vigilance stated, keeping his eyes firmly placed upon the living things that grew nearer and nearer. Then a shrill scream pierced the air, bringing the attention of the two undead back to the village, as well as the attention of the search party. “Ecstasy has been found,” he commented.

“Then let’s get to it,” Wrath growled before swiftly moving from the tree branches, shortly followed by Vigilance as the two began to create inhuman screeches as they moved after the trackers. The skeletons were surprisingly adept at moving between the tree limbs, their taloned feet grasping each limb as they ran and swung. Their movements were quick and decided, their undead minds keeping them from second guessing themselves as they quickly caught up with the trackers, still moving as fast as they could.

Their screeches were directly overhead the people before Wrath’s head snapped up as a spear got caught between his ribs, causing him to lose his pace and fall to the ground. A long fall was followed by a snap as well as the continued inhuman screeches of Wrath. He ripped the spearhead free of his chest, unable to feel the pain as he attempted to get to his feet, only to crumble back onto the ground. He saw that a few of the trackers split from the group to double back. Wrath growled to himself before spotting the lower half of his left leg, grasping it and holding it to where it had severed before the green magic that his god had taught him to use, forcing the bone to reattach, albeit sloppily.

Then the living were upon him, only stopped at the sight of the magic and then as terrored confusion made its claim across their faces as they saw what abomination was in front of them. Wrath’s wings spread as he let out a snarling noise at the people, clearly keeping their distance despite having clubs and spears which would make short work of the hollowed bones of the Aroiox.

The Undead and the Living have met for the first time, one more clearly frightened and cautious while the other was fearless and determined.

Vigilance was motionless above them, slowly moving his body to be able to pounce when the need arose. Being sure to not make a sound lest he wind up in a situation like Wrath had managed to in his overeagerness for the plan. However, he heard the sound of shouting from the group that had continued back to the village, then more shouting, it grew closer.

This was not a part of the plan.

Everyone turned their heads in the direction of the noise, to see another two undead bird running through a field with two unconscious children, followed by the less than pleased populace of the village. One of the birds were screaming with terror.

Wrath and the group of trackers looked to each other, back to the two running undead and back to each other. Wrath looked to Vigilance, the group followed the gaze and saw Vigilance, the initial terror had grown to confusion. Vigilance looked at Wrath, the group looked at Wrath and everyone looked back to the mass of people running through the field.

After a moment of contemplation, the small group began to quickly begin running through the woods as well, Vigilance pouncing off his perch and rolling along the ground before springing into a run alongside Wrath.

“Was this a part of your idea?!” Wrath roared.

“Not in the slightest!” Vigilance responded, looking back at the group chasing them and pushing Wrath’s head down as another spear soared to him, only missing with Vigilance’s intervention.

The two groups eventually merged into one as both parties sprinted through the tree line, the living unable to throw spears out of fear of hitting the children. At least, that is what Vigilance thought as he looked back at them, seeing that soon enough, the limitations of blood and flesh were taking their toll on the Vallamir. They grew tired, even in their determination to get their children back, it slowed them to a point where rather than gaining on the undead, they were falling farther and farther behind.

As the Undead continued their sprint, Vigilance turned his head toward Ecstasy, “What happened to my plan?”

“Didn’t like it. Thought it would be funny to have them chase us,” Ecstasy laughed before continuing, “And it very much was, my friend.”

“I hated it,” Wrath commented.

“You hate everything,”Ecstasy countered.

“You single handedly undermined this entire operation,” Vigilance said, looking back at the now tired people, only the trackers who were smart enough to conserve their energy in a prolonged chase were able to somewhat keep up. However, the Undead now had time, at least enough to retreat back to their home. “Weeks of scouting and planning were ruined,” he continued as they ran.

“But it was funny!”

“It was stupid!”

“Shut up, Wrath!”

Vigilance sighed before looking over at Terror, who had at least stopped screaming. She was carrying the boy, the boy who seemed to be stirring.They had little time before resistance began, resistance that they could not afford, but at the very least, they were close to the place where they had been hiding. A small outcrop in the side of a hill, the previous occupant had acquiesced to their request of using as their camp.

As they neared, Terror felt the boy struggle and push against the undead’s head, causing the Aroiox to become frightened and drop the precious cargo against the ground. Almost immediately, the boy began running in the opposite direction. Wrath went to turn to give chase, but quickly saw the trackers still on their heel, their forms coming through the mist.

“Leave the boy! We don’t have anymore time thanks to Ecstasy!” Vigilance shouted, earning a grunt from Wrath before he too turned tail.

When the hunters managed to retrieve the boy and enter the outcropping, all they found was the corpse of a movle, it’s skeleton protruding from its body and contorted into something almost unrecognizable. However, it was clear that wherever the Undead had gone, the children were also with them, though Tak’Takk remained.