Once upon a time, Galaxor was perched upon his throne, looking at Maxima, now an old goblin with hundreds of grandchildren and great grandchildren, as she was reading ancient stories to the runts about the time she was created. Galaxor’s eye reflected the brilliance of countless stars and the aura of wisdom enveloped him as he contemplated the enigmatic nature of time. His divine mind delved into the intricacies of temporal threads that wove the fabric of existence.

Standing up, Galaxor locked himself in his study, a small room completely sealed to mortals. In there, he summoned ancient tomes that chronicled the epochs of reality. With each page turned, he sought to unravel the mysteries that transcended mortal comprehension. The whispers of past, present, and future echoed in this sanctuary of his.

As the God of Heroism and Knowledge, Galaxor pondered the interplay between time and the heroic deeds of mortals. He looked at the narratives woven into the tapestry of history, where valiant champions rose to meet the challenges of their epochs and even other epochs. Each moment etched in the cosmic timeline held the potential for heroic exploits that resonated across the ages.

At the end of Galaxor's contemplation, a new understanding washed over him. The very essence of time, with its nonlinear dance and interconnected threads, became clear to the God of Heroism and Knowledge. It was not a revelation of control, but a realisation of harmony.
Galaxor, in his newfound understanding, embraced the chaos and beauty of the ever-shifting temporal landscape. Rather than seeking dominion over time, he acknowledged the balance that existed in the mashup of divergent eras. As Galaxor's insight into time, he became a custodian of the temporal currents, ensuring that the equilibrium of the timeline remained undisturbed. Mortals continued to embark on heroic journeys that transcended the boundaries of conventional time.

As Galaxor understood the mysteries of time more, a surge of divine energy began to resonate within him. The very fabric of the universe responded to his understanding, and in a moment of transcendence, a glow enveloped his vacant eye socket. Temporal energies, ancient and unfathomable, converged to weave a new form—a celestial eye that pulsed with the essence of past, present, and future.

The divine eye, now a beacon of temporal insight, opened to realms beyond normal comprehension. It possessed the ability to pierce through the veils of time, granting Galaxor a panoramic view of the cosmic tapestry. The boundaries between past, present, and future blurred as the eye became a conduit for the ebb and flow of temporal currents.

Exiting his sanctum, Galaxor looked upon the world differently than before. One of his eyes seeing the world as it is, the other one, seeing all the potential of it. Everything and anything was now in a constant movement as it was being pulled towards its future self.

Remembering his deal with Sylia, Galaxor clapped his hands and the massive armoured plate, he took from Erigoth, appeared in front of him. Chipping just a tiny bit out of it as an extra memento, he looked upon it once more before teleporting himself and it to Sylia’s city. He instructed the citizens to let Sylia know and disappeared without a trace.

---

She had not expected her task to be so… Lackadaisical. Ayre hurried about, packing cloth and food away into knapsacks. Her father had instructed her, in case the tree was attacked, that they should be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Her father in the meantime, had gone off to help the other Firsts. A few babies were being carried off and their cries tore at her. There was so much chaos. At least she had thought so. Then the Goddess returned.

She had never seen Allianthé up close and she still didn’t but when the trickle of word came that the Goddess was wounded- Ayre felt as if she herself had been physically struck. She clutched at her chest and instantly longed for Ida as her thoughts swirled into despair.

It was her father who brought her back. With a firm hand, he grabbed her shoulders and held her in place. “Ayre. Ayre.” he said, “You are trembling.” He began to stroke her arms in a comforting way and she was able to focus just enough to look at him.

“It will be alright.” Her father said, “She will be alright.”

For once, she didn’t know whether to believe her father or if he was saying that to reassure himself.

Then the tree began to shudder and spiders clambered from every nook and corner.

“We must go.” her father said, taking hold of her hand.

“B-But our things…!” her own voice betrayed her, breaking with fear.

“What you have will do, now run!” Her father shouted and shoved her in front of himself. There came a mad dash down the woven stairs and spiders, coated every wall in an uncountable amount of legs. The black so deep she thought she was running from the abyss. Down they went, followed by panicked voices and a caravan of people to follow. Her father’s guiding hand never left her shoulder as they landed upon the great chamber that would lead them out. She could hear and see the spiders beginning to weave, the blackness now broken by a growing white.

The outside was so close. So very close!

Then she was pushed from behind and went through a crowd of people, promptly falling upon the bark floor of the tree and down a few steps. Ayre was instantly stampeded over and she tried her best to cover herself but felt as her back, sides and legs were run over. Each sending a bark of pain from her mouth. When it was over, having lasted only a few moments, Ayre’s head was spinning as she sat up.

“Father?” She gasped, the question muffled to her ringing ears. Holding her ribs as she stood, Ayre looked around and found that despite the roaring crowds somewhere off, this little stairway that led up into the tree was silent. Now woven shut with a multitude of spiderwebs so thick, it was like looking at a white wall.

She repeated her question but saw no one. Her father… He had pushed her to safety. He was still in the tree. The realization struck her more fiercely than any stampeding mob running her over.

“No no no!” She yelled, a stab of pain flowing up her leg as she began to jog up to that white wall.

“Father! Father please!” She screamed, touching the sticky webs, clawing at them to break back inside the tree. Spiders began to crawl forth, repairing the damage and avoiding her.

“Why would you do this!” She said to no one. For there was no one. And it hit her again. If their father was stuck behind there… Where was Ida?

Once more panic struck the young elf. Torn between helping the father that saved her or finding her sister. It became an easy choice as she watched the spiders weave.

---

Arbor was in an uproar when Ayre finally got an inkling of her senses back. She had to find Ida. That was her only priority right now. Find Ida. Make sure she was safe. Then they would both figure out what to do next. What she knew as fact was that the tree was sealed shut by the spider webs and that their Goddess was inside. If the frantic rumors she heard were true. She tried to find any of the Firsts or even Aenos, but the glimpses she saw of them were quickly swallowed up just by the sheer number who had become displaced by the tree’s exodus.

So Ayre began her trek to the Forge. The last place she saw Ida. Perhaps that Syllianth might know, if he wasn’t with her. Oh what she would do if she found him alone. She took a breath, or tried to, as the crowds pushed in and the heat of the place bubbled. She felt herself slipping with frustration at the slow progress she was making. People just wouldn’t move!

After almost being dragged by a crowd in the opposite direction of where she needed to go, Ayre’s anger finally burst.

“Move out of the way!” She shouted, shoving anyone who came too close, who stopped in front of her. As she began to shove through, the crowd reacted in the worst way possible- a panic induced stampede. It seemed someone had been shoved into another and another, and the effect was poisonous as much was lost in translation and then finally, someone just began to scream. And then others screamed and shouted and more panic ensued. Ayre cursed under her breath and began to shove people even more and the crowd began to move. Bodies collided with one another and the very walls of the tree felt as if they began to close in. Someone was shouting that they were all going to die. Sweat and fear became palpable in the clogged air. Not clogged air but with so many bodies beginning to press into each other, Ayre realized it was just becoming harder to breath. Her small frame couldn’t work properly if she didn’t have enough room to even gulp air.

True panic set in then. Somehow that corridor had become a death trap as people became animals that were too stupid to run, to get somewhere open. Around her people began to drop only for their spots to be filled. She couldn’t even look away as she found herself slammed into a wall. A goblin man and another elfling, one she didn’t know, pressed into her so tight she felt she would be smothered. She was burning so hot now. So so hot. It was so hard to breathe too. No space, just, no space. She shut her eyes, for it was the only way she could claim anywhere to herself.

This was it. This would be how she died. In the one place where life was supposed to be eternal. The worst part was, she had done this. Darkness began to creep into her vision as someone began to shout some sort of words. She began to slump, as if a weight had been thrown off her but her vision darkened further and her last thought was of her white haired sister.

---

The fading essence of a phoenix, a creature so touched by fire, was no simple thing. In these last moments, whether Ayre knew it or not, her very essence resounded like a prayer to a far distant ear. So it was that in the darkness another took notice, turning a burning gaze to look upon the soul in this final moment. Through the gloom of the end it drifted like a gentle stream of embers dancing in the air. It swirled around Ayre before settling directly in her vision collecting into the form of a burning fox. Its searing eyes simply watched in the space between moments before the sound of a laugh that crackled like a well fed fire resounded in the emptiness. After which a voice, not dissimilar to the timbre of the laugh, roared into Ayre’s ears “Oh little phoenix, such a predicament you have found here. I should not be surprised you mortals have such a clumsiness about you. I wonder what caused it, we were so graceful in that dance, but look at all of you now! Stacked up like this! So sweet little flame, what should I call this dear soul before me?”

Perhaps it was a dream. Perhaps that dream kept the darkness at bay or perhaps her mind had already drifted far far away. It was just a final moment before she was completely lost in the flow of life itself. Ayre felt herself smile at the strangeness of it, of the small burning fox and the dancing embers. It was so profoundly beautiful. She found her voice in answer, or she thought she spoke it, like the small kindling before a fire took root, “Ayre. That is my name.”

“Ayre… Ayre…” The fox’s voice rolled the name around its vulpine mouth as if it was tasting each letter. As it did it began to walk around the crush, inspecting the mass of tangled bodies like one would a fallen bird's nest. It huffed in disappointment more than anything and returned to Ayre, this time bending its head so its snout was only inches from her face. The flickering colors that constituted its being flaring as it gazed into her eyes, its toothy smile only broadening.

“I like that name. It's a very good name, Ayre.” This time when it spoke the voice of the fox brought with it a comforting warmth, like that of a hearth on a cold winter's day or an oven baking well loved bread. “So tell me little Ayre, how did you come to be stuck like this? Hardly seems a good place for you.”

“The Goddess…” Ayre began, taking in the lovely warmth with a crinkling smile, “Or the tree… She’s hurt and spiders…” She murmured, the thoughts hazy in her mind. “Had to run outside. Father is trapped. But Ida…” She blinked a bit, the ever present smile faltering on her lips. “Could you help her?” Ayre asked, “I can’t… My eyes are so heavy and you are so warm.”

The fox’s head rolled sideways as it listened to Ayre, its gaze never leaving her. Only after Ayre’s own smile faltered did its own seem to crack with the plea for her sister. The vibrant colors dimmed as it answered “I could, in truth it would be a simple thing. But little ember that would mean letting your fire go out, smothered here and cold. And I hate the cold. So Tell me sweet Ayre, if I leave where would you find warmth?”

Time seemed to dull and all thoughts escaped her own mind, except for one. She focused on it and followed where it led. She knew she had felt such warmth once before. A long time ago. When the world in her eyes was but something she could not fully comprehend. There had been a steady beat. A loving voice within her ear, despite all the pain, and that warmth. It banished the cold air on her skin. Oh, how she missed it, even if it had been so brief, like trying to catch an ember. Fleeting through her grasp. Yet, she wanted it still and a smile crossed Ayre’s lips again. Her eyes were glossy as she looked at the fox and saw- A soft whisper escaped her lips. “Momma…”

The fox smiled as its form flickered, becoming the smiling form of Anat’aa. Reaching her hands out she gently touched the sides of Ayre’s face. As she did the Goddess’ own smile broadened as Ayre’s returned. She stayed like this for a while, letting the memory wash over Ayre. Soon Anat’aa spoke, “That is a good warmth sweet Ayre. It will keep you warm when all else has fled, there is strength in that warmth. Hold it, cradle it, nurture it. It is a good spark and good fuel. Remember it is all you need and answer me this one last thing.”

Moving her hands under Ayre’s chin to support her head, the warmth of her hands grew steadily. Yet no pain would come to Ayre, only the sensation like she had stepped too close to an open flame, “Would you use this warmth to save your sister and keep others from the hated cold?”

Ayre’s gaze held with her mother. For who else could it be? Such warm and tender hands, a mother’s hands. She sighed with contentness and when silence fell between them- the question in the air, she murmured, “Yes, mother. I would do,” She couldn’t help but give a weak smile at the thought of her sister, “Anything, for Ida and father and the others…” She said, her voice growing sleepy. “For Ida…” She yawned.

A crackling chuckle escaped Anat’aa as Ayre gave her answer. “Then before you sleep, oh sweet child, I must ask two favors of you. First, I must ask that you hold that warmth and give it your breath, so it may grow, so it may burn. Know that it will not leave you, fire only changes it does not take.”

Moving her hands once more to either side of Ayres face, Anat’aa leaned in to gently kiss her forehead. As she pulled back a smoldering mark was left where her lips had touched, a sign of the connection Anat’aa felt forming between her and Ayre’s fire. She let her power flow through it towards the nascent pyromancer. Yet her smile fell slightly as she continued, “The second- I feel like I should ask more from those of you I touch. But it is simply this, forgive me if you can. Now sweet Ayre, burn. Burn so bright that you light the dark and banish the cold. Know I will not leave you all the while.”

That warmth enveloped the entirety of Ayre’s being. Beginning in her face and swirling down into her core, wherein, it at last blossomed. Her eyes snapped open and she opened her mouth as if to speak but only a trickle of flame escaped it. She drew breath and found that it scorched her throat and lungs. How quickly the dream had become a nightmare. She wanted to scream as that warmth became a blaze of fire, as it burned her insides, as people all around began to scream and shout for aid. She thrashed on the ground, pleading for it to stop. For her mother’s aid. For Ida’s coolness, and then- and then she understood. She stopped her thrashing and sat up as her flesh crackled and flaked. As her fiery heart beat until it was ash. As she herself did indeed burn so bright she became a pyre- Fire was change and she would not be afraid of it.

In one flash to the rest of the world, Ayre was immolated from within and reduced to naught but ash and embers. Women and children screamed within that small crook of the great tree, thinned as it was. Many stood dumbstruck at what occurred and many others still helped those who had trouble breathing. And to any who still looked at that pile of Ayre, they would see another flash and then- as if the Great Mother herself had brought life to her- Ayre was there.

Naked as the day she was born, hair like embers banishing the shadows of the tree with warm light. Upon her forehead, black upon her skin, were two lips ringed with flame. Ayre’s eyes snapped open to reveal orange blazes, fierce and determined. Before any could even speak she was moving, running from the tree, flames dancing at her feet.

For she had a sister to find.

Tooth and claw slammed into the line of warriors, the demonic beasts clawing at the Snouters and Beastfolk that stood in their way. Tyryk brought up his ax and slammed it down onto one of the beast’s heads, splitting its skull in two, before retching it free to cleave another in twain. By his side, both his retinue and the snouter folk fought with a ferocity matching the beasts that rushed towards them. Konne’s blade sliced through the beasts like they were nothing, occasionally taking flight to cut the heads off of several at once. Meanwhile the Snouter’s leader, Chief Znorik, brought the heavy weight of his hammer around, smashing the demons into bloody pulps with each swing.

But the demons were numerous, already threatening to surround the combined force, held back only by several snouters who had gathered behind them, tossing stones and whatever they could gather to drive the invaders back. That wouldn’t last forever though, Tyryk could already tell that these things were no mindless beasts. Already they were learning, flanking and attacking only if they outnumbered an enemy, and each time a new one appeared to replace the last, their form was changing. Their blackened skin continued to give way to the bones beneath as they formed either sharpened blades to slice at the defenders, or as hardened armor to protect against blows. These things could adapt on the fly.

Konne flew back from another run, a cut of bone in her hand serving as another blade. The demons raised their hands to try to grab at her, her agility being her only saving grace from being torn from the sky and quickly overrun. Luckily, she made it, returning to Tyryk’s side.

“They’re giving no sign of stopping!” She yelled over the dirge of battle. “We need to fall back!”

“We can head to the center of the village!” Znorik responded, smashing three of the demons at once with a swing of his hammer. “But we can not give up!”

Tyryk gave a laugh. “I don’t plan on it! You and you men fall back! We’ll cover you!” Znorik only snorted in response, yelling at his soldiers to begin to fall back. Tyryk raised his ax shouting towards his own soldiers. “Warriors! To me!”

The retinue quickly formed around him, their weapons at the ready as they faced the oncoming horde. Tyryk could swear that with each demon they felled another returned to take its place. And their adaptations were only getting worse. By now the demons had caught on to many of their earlier tricks, Konne’s last run had already been too close for comfort, and Tyryk found himself fighting with ax, claw, and teeth all at once to fend off the beasts. His retinue was fairing no better, one of his soldiers, a half-blood lion, was caked in blood both demonic and his, and their weapons were beginning to dull at the oncoming onslaught.

The Suneater allowed himself a quick look back, the Snouters were making it back, joined by the villagers who had opted to fight instead of flee. Their numbers bolstered the defenders, but even the tough pigfolk could not drive back all of the invaders. Then, he saw it, amongst them stood Polassar, while not a fighter, the Strider was doing all they could to aid the defenders. And a thought formed in the Suneater’s mind.

“Warriors!” He shouted, “Fall back to the Center! I have a plan!”

Now it was the Snouters turn to assist them, Znorick and his more formidable troops surged forward, cleaving a path for the beastfolk to fall back in. They had to be quick, slashing away at whatever surge of blackened flesh and bone that wanted to cut them off from their allies. But they drove them back, allowing them to link back up with the rest of the defenders in the village center. There they gathered into a circle, the warriors at the front driving the demons back with blade and claw, while the villagers behind them threw whatever they could to assist. They were surrounded now for sure, but at least they could fight in all directions now. And as the sun shined its light down upon the village at the perfect angle, Tyryk knew this would work.

“Polassar!” He yelled, the Strider’s eyes raising towards the warlord. “When I say so! Uncover yourself!”

“But my lord!” The Strider replied in a worried tone. “That will blind every-” They looked around at the battlefield, quickly catching on. “Understood my Lord!”

Tyryk returned his focus to just beyond the village, what demons were not already fighting were gathering together, their blackened forms shifting and morphing further. He could see the budding form of wings begin to erupt, useless at this current moment, but forming. Their blades began more intense and erupted from more points on their body. And their maws of teeth became elongated to pierce hide further. If this didn’t work, they were surely doomed.

He waited until the new wave began to rush towards them, their modified and twisted forms making a beeline for their circle, gnashing teeth ready to tear into flesh. It was now or never.

“Everyone! Shield your eyes!” He brought his own paw up to cover his, raising his ax towards the Strider behind him. “Now Polassar!”

The blinding light that erupted did not need to be seen to know that the plan had worked. All Tyryk needed was the white flash beyond his covered eyes, the intense heat coming from the center of the village, and the screams of the demons as their eyes were assaulted by the refraction of the sun’s light, the crystal being gave off. The light was gone almost instantly, but it had done what it needed to. He uncovered his eyes, witnessing the demon horde writhe in pain, they were not blind, even Polassar’s light couldn’t do that in that short of time. But it was just what they needed.

“They’ll recover quickly! Warriors! Charge!”

Znorick and the Snouters needed no further incentive, letting out a roar as they rushed into the incapacitated horde. The beastfolk followed behind, slicing the defenseless horde with blade and claw, the blackened blood of the beast’s pooling onto the village streets. Even with their eyesight damaged, the horde could see the writing on the wall, many demons had begun to retreat from the counter attack. Those that remained fumbled about to try to fight back, but their dazed vision and the pain in their heads meant they were no match for the warriors.

With the tables now turned, the demons were driven back further and further. The horde behind the front beginning to scatter at the sight of their kind slaughtered and torn into. The sight was invigorating to the Suneater, seeing the horde driven into panic and cut down before his ax, it reminded him of what he truly desired, to conquer. These beasts were nothing compared to that desire, and they would fall, as all would before the Suneater.

By now, they were driven from the village, the defenders already cheering as they took care of the last beasts. The hordes running towards the hills they had arrived from. It looked like they had won.

If only for a second.

Before they had time to even pant and breath, a thunderous sound erupted from the hills. A rocketing thud shook the earth beneath their feet as something began to move. It didn’t take long for what was causing this noise to appear over the crest of the hills nearby. It was a similar beast to the demons that had just attacked them, its blackened skin giving way to pulsating sinews and veins of muscles that pulsed with each movement. Its legs were smaller than the massive arms that it also walked upon, built almost akin to a gorilla, yet its skin was toughened and hardened like its own armor. Its maw was full of tusks and sharpened teeth that jut in all directions, and its piercing eyes locked with Tyryk’s.

This thing would destroy them.

“Konne!” He didn’t dare take his eyes off the oncoming beast as it slowly made its way to the village. “Take the warriors, get everyone out of here, they’ll be safer up north.”

Znorick gave a snort at the instructions. “We’re not going to leave our home, we’re not losing it.”

The pigling drew back as Tyryk’s maw snapped at him, the warlord’s voice rising. “GO! You will all die if you stay! Do not be stubborn now!”

“But what about you?” Konne shot back.

“I will distract it. Give you a head start.”

“That thing will rend you asunder if you fight it alone!”

He gave a chuckle. “I am the Suneater, if I can not win here, then it is better for me to die.” He finally allowed himself to look towards Konne, whose face was a mixture of confusion and anger. “Now go, that is an order.”

Konne barked an order to the assembled warriors, who began to gather the civilians as quickly as they could to prepare them to evacuate. As they began to, Znorick hesitated, casting a gaze towards the Suneater. “I can’t let you do this alone.”

Tyryk shook his head. “You need to lead your people, mine will need someone as well.”

“Nonsense, my boi and your feathered lass are capable ‘nough.” The snouter turned his head back to the beast, who drew ever closer, the smaller beasts gathering around it. “‘Sides, you’ll need someone to keep those beasties off of ya.”

“...very well.” He brought his ax up, readying it in his hand. Znorick did the same with his hammer, both of them steeling their resolve in the face of the oncoming beast.

The great beast took a few more steps, before stopping just short of the village, its gaze unblinking at the two leaders. The horde around it stopped, chittering and snapping towards them, yet not drawing any closer. The duo looked at one another, nodding in tandem before turning back. With a roar, they both charged forth. The demons responded in kind, surging forth while the greater beast remained where it was, standing firm.

Demon fell to ax and hammer, Znorick took the brunt of the onslaught, carving a path for Tyryk to charge towards the greater beast. Claws and teeth gnashed at them, both of them could barely afford any hits, each one another counting towards the inevitable in this situation. They both just hoped it would be long enough to let the others flee.

Tyryk carved another demon in front of him, tossing the corpse to the side, he was met face to face with the greater beast. It merely stood there, its form having not changed at all while he had made his way to it. No matter, it was waiting for him to strike first, anyone could see that. Might as well not let his host go waiting. He surged forward, ax and claw flashing as he struck at one of the arms. His metal ax managed to make its way though the toughened hide, but his claws were nothing compared to the armor. A noise came from the beast, something akin to a laugh, then it responded.

Its other hand shot forward at the warlord, it was quick, incredibly so. He barely had time to avoid most of the punch, the massive beast still managing to catch him with the side of its hand, sending a shout of pain through the beastfolk and sending him sprawling. He crashed onto the ground, barely managing to keep hold of his ax and regain his bearings. If that was a miss, then he really didn’t want to see what a hit was. Looking up, he once more had to rush to roll out of the way before the hand came crashing down where he once lay. Standing up, he swung at the arm, embedding its metal blade into its wrist. The beast let out a roar, shooting its other arm forward to grab at him, but instead of dodging, he instead wretched the ax free and spun around, lodging it instead into the palm of the oncoming hand.

Another roar erupted, but this time Tyryk could barely keep his grip as the hand was pulled back in pain. Forcing him to let go of his ax to avoid being picked up in a precarious situation by the beast. The beast took a look at its palm, scowling as it tried to force the ax head out of its palm, to little success with how large its hands were in comparison to the tiny ax. Without a weapon, Tyryk had little hope of harming the creature, but this was still an opportunity. He allowed himself a quick look towards Znorick, demons crowded around him, being beaten back by both hammer and fist now, as the hammer itself was dangerously close to shattering. The snouter wouldn’t last much longer, and neither would he.

With a roar, Tyryk rushed towards the beast, who was caught off guard by his sudden appearance. Jumping up, he latched onto one of its arms, using his claws for whatever leverage onto it that he could. The beast roared, and launched the arm he had latched onto downward, hoping to get him off by force, but that was exactly what he wanted. He shot himself upward from the arm, using its downward force to propel him upward in reaction, then, he dove straight towards the beasts face. He barely missed, having to grab onto one its jutting tusks, but the job could still be done. While the beast was still reeling, he pulled downward, forcing its face down in compensation, then, he let his other clawed hand loose, stratching and piercing one of the beast’s eyes, causing a torrent of blackened blood to pour from its socket. That got its anger boiling.

It launched its ax-injured hands towards the beastfolk who had long overstayed his lifespan. But Tyryk wouldn’t allow himself to be grabbed so easily. He pushed off the beast’s face, grabbing at the ax’s handle and using the gravity that sought to pull him down. Wretched it free. Black blood now poured from the palm itself as he performed a roll as he hit the ground, trying his best to avoid injuring himself further. Spinning, he readied himself for the attack that came next.

But this time it was too quick.

The arm he had used to launch himself thrust forward, too low for him to notice at first. By the time he did, it was too late. It connected with his lower half, the full force of the beast shattering several of his bones in an instant as it sent him flying back towards the village. It wasn’t enough to kill instantly, but by the gods did it hurt, he could barely feel his lungs intaking the sharp pain of air to compensate for what had been lost. He crumbled onto the floor where he landed, his left leg shattered beyond repair and his right no better off, pain shooting through his mind as it struggled to keep awake. Already his vision darkened, it was over, he would die here.

He used what was left of his strength to bring his head around, he could see Znorick yelling at him, but his voice was dimed by the pain, the Snouter kept fighting, his fists all that he had left to face the horde that had begun to overwhelm him, demons clambered upon his back and with their teeth, began to take chunks out of him. Tyryk looked back, towards the village. He could see the villagers fleeing, the faces of his warriors stood in shock, clearly they had seen the result of the hit. He could see Konne standing there, tears streaming down her face as she drew her blades, ready to rush in to save him, only to be pulled back by Polassar, the Strider pleading for her to leave.

The darkness was now everywhere, he wouldn’t last much longer, he returned his focus to the horde. To the great beast that now drew close, its eye and hand bleeding, but it wasn’t enough. It would never have been enough.

Tyryk laid there. And accepted his fate……

“No.” A voice rang out. “This is not how this ends.” It boomed through the heavens and skies, causing the horde, the beast, and even the Beastfolk and Snouters to gaze upward, to see what was happening. “Rise Suneater. And finish what you started.”

Suddenly, Tyryk felt his body return to him, the darkness fled from his vision and he could feel the bones of his legs snap themselves back into place. With little thought or reason, he rose from his state, his body mending itself with every second that he did so. But that was not the only thing he was focused on. Suddenly, a flash of prismatic light erupted in the ax that lay beside him. A multi coloured flame erupted from the weapon, looking like splashes of watercolor upon a painting. There, the weapon transformed, its handle and blade grew in size, the wood turning from a drab brown to a vibrant and luscious rainbow, meanwhile the ax shimmered with life, countless colours emerged and disappeared upon it, almost like it was alive. The flames began to die down, but they remained shimmering upon the ax’s blade, finally, a wrapping of prismatic cloth erupted from the ground and wrapped itself upon the ax’s handle.

The power emanating from the weapon was immense, Tyryk felt like even being near it would result in him being rendered into nothing. But this was not the time to think. He had his people to save. Swiftly he picked up the ax, a shock of pain and energy coursing up through his arm, already he could see prismatic sparks erupting from it, and the hairs upon his arms stood up straight as the energy coursed through his bones. He could wield this thing, but not for long, he knew that. But he didn’t need long.

He raised the ax’s blade towards the great beast, who now stood dumbfounded at the sight. “Let it be known.” He began, “I am the Suneater! Chosen of the gods and Conqueror of all under the skies! I will not fall in the face of invasion! In the face of enemies! In the face of the gods! You have defiled the lands and attacked my subjects! And for that, you shall be slain!”

The Suneater rushed towards the stunned beast, who now had barely any time to react. It brought its healthy hand up to block the attack coming to it. But it would do nothing. With a swing of the prismatic ax, the Suneater cleaved straight through the beast’s arm, slicing it entirely down the wrist. It roared in pain, and stumbled backwards, only to be met by another slash from the blade, which carved a chunk out of his torso. It tried to slam the beastfolk with its other arm, but that would do nothing, the Suneater merely once more planted the ax’s blade into its palm, this time sinking deeper than it had before. This time, he grabbed at the arm, climbing upon it as he freed the ax once more. Running up the arm, he brought the ax up again, letting out a roar as he cleaved the beast’s head in twain. Slicing straight down the middle and causing a burst of black blood to erupt from the beast.

It slumped forward, the life now gone from it. Its body crashing back down upon the earth, the Suneater did not stop. He launched himself from the beast as it crashed forward, cleaving several of the lesser demons that stood behind it with the prismatic flames that erupted from the ax, causing them to shatter and melt as they were covered in either deep freezing ice or wreathed in searing hot flames. He made quick work of the beasts, carving a path towards where Znorick lay, the demons attacking him had begun to flee upon the sight of the Suneater’s blade, only to be met by the sudden cracking of skulls from the renewed Snouter’s fists. Much like Tyryk, Znorick too had been healed, his wounds vanished and his strength returned to him.

But there were still demons, the horde was still great, sure Tyryk could slay ten at a time, but there were still hundreds now.

Then another miracle came.

In the sky, a prismatic flaming portal opened up, and from it descended a horde of creatures. Their forms were covered in bone-like armor that appeared to be fused to their very being, and in their hands they wielded weapons made of a similar material. They crashed down upon the demonic horde, immediately weighing into the beasts with their own weapons, slaying any that stood in their way. Then another portal opened, then another, the three portals dropping hundreds of the creatures onto the land. By now the demons were fleeing, thoroughly broken by the onslaught. Tyryk barely had time to look back before a flurry of feathers clouded his vision. Konne wrapped the warlord into a tight embrace as the other warriors charged forth, joining the creatures that had come to their rescue in driving the last demons back.

“Never again scare me like that.” She began, her face now a mixture of relief and…still anger.

“I make no promises.” He replied, he wished to continued, but he winced at the sudden pain that shot up through his arm. Reminding him of what he still held.

Stepping away from Konne, he tossed the ax to the floor, letting its prismatic flames lap against the grass to give himself a rest. He looked at his hand, seeing small scorch marks all along it, and he could still feel a twinge of exhaustion and aches in his arm.

“What, is that?” Konne asked, her gaze unmoving from the flames that erupted from the blade.

“A gift from the gods I believe.” Tyryk looked around, seeing that the warriors and creatures were more than capable of dealing with what remained of the fleeing horde.

Suddenly, Znorick appeared, clapping the Suneater on the back. “One fitting a King! The show you gave was ‘nough for the gods themselves! Good too, think we had both given our best there.”

Tyryk chuckled. “Indeed, let's get Polassar to find a way to carry it back safely.” He directed that last part to Konne, who nodded in response.

“Yes my lord.”

Finally, Tyryk turned to the new creatures who had arrived. The demons had fled, and now they stood about, seemingly looking for something, then, one of them locked eyes with him. They were coloured a strange green and pink, and they quickly came closer.

“Greeting! I am Strawberry-Emerald! You can call me Berry!” It gestured towards the other beings, who all waved with excitement. “We Gloink! Sent to serve Suneater!”

Another chuckle came from the Warlord. “A serving army and an artifact, truly a blessed day. Come then! I believe we all need rest after this day! A feast! To our victory!”

A cheer erupted from the Beastfolk and Snouters, while the Gloinks merely rattled their forms in what appeared to be an approximation of a cheer.

The day was won. And the Suneater grew stronger.

---

Longsight could see far, it was true, but if he had learned anything out on the wastes, it was that the eye saw farthest of all from a high vantage point. Badboy and he had initially simply walked, keeping their eyes peeled and trying to get their bearings. More than a day had passed like that, and soon their stomachs started to grumble. Badboy frowned and rubbed his belly, eyeing Longsight questioningly. The other lad pursed his lips and stared out into the distance. The great black wall seemed to seal the way forth in every direction leading away from the shore, meaning that they would have no choice but to perpetually walk along it.

When he squinted, he could make out something flying here or there in the distance, or something prowling on the shores, or something great and unsettling breaking the crimson waves away at sea. And far away, farther than the forms he saw crawling here or there on the shore, a sheer cliff could be seen to visibly rise up, up, and away. Nowhere near as high as the great black wall, true, but it was the highest point Longsight could see and considered plausibly reachable. Anyone stood there would have a commanding position for endless leagues in every direction.

Longsight looked back at the puffing and grumbling Badboy and snapped his fingers at him. With Badboy’s attention on him, Longsight gestured towards the distant cliff face with the pointed butt of his war hammer. He placed his cheek on his palm and closed his eyes. There, we can sleep. Badboy shook his head and tapped his belly and gesticulated at his mouth. Longsight nodded in understanding and pointed once more towards the cliff. All their needs, whether sleep or food, would be met if they headed for the cliff. Nodding without argument, Badboy arose and started for their destination at a light trot. Longsight hefted his war hammer and followed at pace. He came up behind Badboy and pointed towards some shapes slouching on the shore. Badboy glanced at him with a raised brow, only to find that Longsight was gesturing at his mouth. Badboy’s eyes brightened and a vicious smile spread across his face. Food. Longsight chuckled and nodded. It was a plan.

As they closed the distance between them and the slouched creature, they slowed their pace and took on a crouching gait closer to the black sand. What passed for their quarry's head, Longsight could see, faced the crimson ocean. He gestured for Badboy to circle around it. With the crashing of the waves against the shore, it would be too late by the time it heard them - they would be upon it. And it was just so.

Longsight’s pick punctured its head cleanly. Badboy’s strike, a fraction of a second later, entirely decapitated it. Blood spurted in all directions and Badboy laughed hysterically, jumping and whooping, dancing with his club-sword. He looked at Longsight and raised the weapon, eyes wide and excited, and Longsight knew exactly what he was saying - did you bloody see that? Ufft! Planting the weapon in the earth, Badboy quickly bent down, picked up the beast’s head, and raised it high. Gripping the club-sword with one hand and the head with another, he heaved the head into the air above him and, with an almighty grunt, swung his blade so that it split the head in twain even as it fell through the air. Longsight watched the black spray, and the world seemed to still for a few moments. His eyes met Badboy’s, and both boys grinned knowingly. Headsplitter. That’s what that blade would be called.

Once the creature had ceased bleeding onto the sand (Badboy having quite boldly, perhaps foolishly, smeared his face and body with the vile stuff), the duo got to cutting up what they could feasibly carry. The thing was very soft and very fatty - it resembled a river seal in some ways, but was substantially larger. Its fat was dark, immediately brown and blue, and its meat - like the meat of the waste beasts - was as black as its blood. Badboy was the first to draw attention to its hide and, after some observation, Longsight understood what he meant. It was oddly thick. Without a word, Badboy hefted Headsplitter and got to properly skinning it. Not long after that, they returned to trekking towards the distant cliff. The great hide they carried between them was quite stuffed with their meat haul.

---

Inside the Goblin Underground’s city, deep underground, Galaxor was busy watching over the pilgrims or, better said, novices that made their way down to the Library. It wasn’t an easy trip, it was hard and gruelling.

A voyage that only the toughest and most determined even attempted to make and only a fraction of those would reach it. Different challenges awaited those that went down, from single combat to survival in a massive tunnel that the dreaded Viscor worms called home, to a test of wits.

And each novice would bring with them new stories, information about the outside world or tales they’d heard from their families of Maxima or the others. Each novice sought the same thing: more knowledge. More wisdom. The good majority of novices were goblins but from time to time a human, elf, dwarf, or beastfolk would make the journey.

That was when he heard an interesting story. A few novices, human survivors of the Outer Gods’ attack and the rampage that followed them, were talking about a massive wall that appeared down south. An army, commanded by Sylia, killing any Outer Beasts they came across and then raising a wall to keep the others contained.

Appearing before the humans, Galaxor asked for more details and after a few minutes where the humans showered Galaxor with praises and words of thanks for allowing them to make the journey, Galaxor found out all that he needed to know. One of the humans even managed to catch a glimpse of the Goddess herself as she raised the wall…but not before killing thousands of Outer Beasts.

Thanking the humans, Galaxor smiled to himself. A place such as what Sylia created would be a perfect place for heroes to grow and any survivors inside would prove more than heroic; they’d be legends. In a breath, Galaxor appeared high above the wall and surveyed it, taller than tall, wider than wide. Taking his eye patch off, briefly, the Time God peered into all the potential futures of the wall and what he saw, made him laugh with joy…but he did frown at the future where the wall fell due to someone allowing the Outer Beasts inside, only for that person to be stabbed by his fellow guardsmen while shouting something about a watch.

And that’s when he noticed two humans killing an Outer Beast. Quickly and with no harm brought upon themselves. Again, Galaxor watched their futures and shook his head. Things weren’t looking good for those two. Dead within the year no matter what, out of the millions of different futures, they wouldn’t survive.

With a smile, Galaxor decided to test them before deciding whether he should change their fate or not. Transforming into a small goblin, he grabbed the attention of an Outer Beast and made it chase him. Close enough for the two humans to notice him but not close enough for the Outer Beast to notice them and run or call for backup. There was no need to kill every single one of them…yet. The ruckus caught the attention of the two, and they watched hesitantly for a few moments. The one smeared with blood hefted his massive blade in one hand, clearly eager to swing the great thing into yet another monster, but a tap from the other lad tempered his enthusiasm. They both placed the hide they were carrying down and, squatting low and fingering their weapons, watched the goblin’s flight from the beast. Whatever they might have known or seen of goblins before, this one seemed to give them reason for pause.

At last, the blood-smeared boy rose to his feet and slouched forward, keeping low. With an exasperated sigh, the other followed him. They were rather fleet of foot and were able to close most of the distance between them and the beast, but it noticed them before they were upon it and made an about turn to meet them. It was quite different from the pinniped monster they had hunted earlier. This one had the horned head and form of a great lion, the wings of a giant bat, and a tail that ended in a scorpion’s stinger. It dwarfed the two boys - they looked barely pubescent. Still, they seemed quite adept at hunting together and were quick to fan out around the creature. It was bigger than them, true, and likely quicker too and in every way stronger. But it remained the case that there were two of them, and only one of it. The blood-streaked boy swung his great bludgeon of a sword here and there, and the other hefted his war hammer, now turning the vicious pick towards the monster and now the hammer.

A heavy tension fell upon the three, the beast snarling and turning its head now this way and that as the boys circled around it. With a growl and lightning speed, the monster shattered the tension, its scorpion tail snaking for the blood-streaked boy. For whatever reason, he had seemed to unnerve it far more than the other. A scream cleft the air as the boy, blood-kohled eyes bulging, struck. A severed head flew threw the air, blood streaking behind it, and it landed a few feet away from the boy with the war hammer. He gulped, and his eyes slowly homed in on what had fallen by him. It was the beast’s bulbous stinger head.

The blood-streaked boy’s laughter swept across the sands even as his companion rushed in and struck the beast a glancing blow across its now-defenceless flank. Even as it turned to deal with this new threat, the blood-streaked boy struck, cleaving one of its wings away. The beast roared in fury and leapt away, flapping its one wing uselessly. They watched as the beaten monstrosity, far too quick for the two boys for all their speed, made a rapid escape. They checked one another, laughing and swinging their weapons about in triumph. The blood-streaked one whooped and leapt, bashing the stinger head with the flat of his bludgeon sword. As he did so, the other lad approached the goblin and looked at it cautiously. He was obviously unsure whether he could trust it; his grip on his war hammer remained tight, his eyes wary.

While the two made short work of the Outer Beast, Galaxor pretended to be scared, his hands over his head as if to protect himself from any incoming blows. The two worked well together, like a team, no talking between one another yet they knew exactly what each other would do. A hero party to be!

Standing up, Galaxor pointed a hand towards the fleeing Outer Beast, causing the boy to glance behind him in confusion. From high above, The Cosmic Destroyer flew down, killed the fleeing beast and started circling around the area and killing any Outer Beasts that might choose to disturb them. This happened, of course, out of sight of the two humans, and so the boy turned back to him with a brow raised in confusion, clearly unsure what the goblin was playing at pointing at nothing. How was he to know that the trials weren’t done yet and that being disturbed would just not do?

Noticing the grip on the warhammer, Galaxor jumped up in the air with a yelp and screamed once or twice for good measure. “No, no! No hurt me! Roxalag friend! Me lost, far-far nest. Big BADADADA and poof, no nest.” said the goblin Galaxor mimicking the story he once heard from Rajesh, his voice sounded like a child’s and the tone reflected his fearful nature. The blood-streaked boy came up behind the unstreaked one and observed the goblin with a grin. Once the goblin had stopped blabbering, he quickly squatted in front of him, holding his bludgeon-blade over one shoulder and patting the goblin’s little head with his free hand. It was obvious that they were not unfamiliar with goblins.

Galaxor pulled back almost immediately after that and laughed. “Yooz good humies. Yooz save Roxalag! Brave humie, good fighty. But iz humie smart too? Roxalag reward, if humie answer three questions!” he said while eying the unstreaked one… Longsight. Just a look from his chrono-eye, Galaxor could see that between him and the blood-streaked one, Badboy, it was Longsight who would’ve survived the longest in this place, even if he’d die in the end. As if to prove that, Badboy slouched down, his interest in the goblin’s words clearly dissipating swiftly. Longsight lowered his war hammer at last, his suspicious glare giving war to one of mild interest. He raised three fingers, then raised an eyebrow. Three? He smiled slightly and looked at the goblin expectantly. Go on then.

Galaxor jumped from one foot to another and rubbed his hands together. “Good, good! Me yap wit'out gob, listen wit'out lugs. No body, but roar to life in da wind. What am I?” said Galaxor, an easy riddle that anyone with a bit of brain could answer. It was something they would’ve heard in the desert, after all. Echoes. As Longsight frowned, clearly struggling to understand, Badboy looked over at the dancing goblin and laughed, clearly quite entertained. He clapped for it and gestured with his hand in a manner that indicated he wanted it to dance more.

Suddenly, Longsight perked up and turned around. He poked Badboy with his foot to get the distracted boy’s attention and gestured towards their hide bag. Badboy leapt to his feet as Longsight barrelled off towards it. Pausing, he looked back at the goblin and a grin grew across his bloodied face. With little courtesy, he grabbed the little goblin and, hoisting him under an arm, ran off after Longsight. All the riddling was forgotten by the time they reached the bag. Depositing the goblin in the bag, Badboy hoisted it from his side and both boys continued their journey - and a long journey it was to that far off sheer cliff.

With a yelp as he was grabbed and deposited in a bag, Galaxor settled in for the journey. He could’ve killed them both for the impudence of touching him and treating him like that but in this case, he laughed it off. The two weren’t very smart, that was obvious but damn if they weren’t brave. As he was carried away, Galaxor decided it’s a good time for him to take a nap. Godly business was tiring after all and breaks were always welcomed, for everyone knew that heroes need long hours of training and even more hours of peace and quiet to fully comprehend what they’ve learned from their training.

Eventually, after about half an hour of travel, Galaxor woke up and noticed he wasn’t too far from where they left. These humans were moving too slow for his liking and as such, decided to teleport out of the bag and just a bit further up the path out of sight, enough for the two humans to see him after a few more steps.

As soon as they saw him, Galaxor laid on the floor and shook his head. “Kidnapping goblins. That’s not very nice, y’know? Anyways, you didn't answer the first question correctly. Second question. What is more important, your duty to the tribe or your friends and family? ” he said, this time speaking differently than before and he was speaking the same language as the humans. The two boys were frozen in place for a while. Eventually, Badboy glanced into the bag to confirm what both of them were thinking. Longsight did the same. Gulping audibly, they both looked back at the goblin, wariness stripping them of any weariness they may have suffered. Badboy was tense, his grip on his weapon tight, but Longsight placed a calming hand on his shoulder and bit his lip. The two boys shared a knowing look, and Badboy relaxed.

Taking a careful step towards the goblin and, with the but of his war hammer, drew a circle in the sand. It was large enough for him to draw some ten loosely humanoid figures crouched around what looked to be an attempt at a campfire. Their postures looked relaxed, happy. It was a tribe, and the tribe was itself nothing but the extension of one’s family. The tribe was where friends were made, joys were had, protection was found, safety, warmth, camaraderie - all of that, and more, he drew.

Puzzled, Galaxor studied the two humans. Were they not capable of talking? Was that the issue? Waving his hand, as if to swat away a fly, he revealed the energy of the universe, the very essence that divine beings drew power from and noticed the two small threads of power linking the two humans to Sylia’s HQ at the wall. Somehow these humans managed to meet not one but two divine beings already and somehow annoyed one of them already.

When Longsight drew the picture, Galaxor looked at it inquisitively, studying it from all angles as he did. It was crude, very crude but they answered correctly, nonetheless. Both are important because they aren’t two separate things, but one thing combined.

Clapping a few times, Galaxor nodded at Longsight. “Well done, human. You’ve answered correctly. One out of two, one more correct answer and you’ll get a reward. Now, if you’re ready for the third and final question…” said Galaxor before stopping, taking a few steps back and staring right into Longsight’s eyes. “Do you think you can take me in a fight? ” The boy stared back into the goblin’s eyes. His jaw was fixed with determination, but his eyes betrayed his fear. Badboy rose up behind him, a scowl on his face. A loud slap cracked the air, and Longsight released the breath he had been holding. He glanced back at Badboy, who gave him his to fucking shit with monsters face. Taking a deep breath and tightening his grip on his war hammer, he turned back to the goblin- demon- god- whatever- and opened his mouth in a silent warcry. By him, Badboy raised his bludgeon-sword and beat at the black sand before him with it. Cracking their necks, the two boys advanced on the goblin.

Putting a finger forward towards Badboy, Galaxor shook it. “Aaaa. Not you. Him. Alone. ”

That gave both boys pause, and they glanced uncertainly at one another. Before they could come to a decision, however, Galaxor moved forward towards Badboy and, before he could react, put a hand on his chest and threw him up in the air where he'd find himself suspended in air by an invisible force. The boy struggled and swung his bludgeon-sword about, screeching silently, his face blackblood-streaked face livid. But there was nothing to be done. Seeing this, Longsight wasted no time and struck out at his quarry.

Dodging the attack from Longsight, Galaxor took a few steps back and laughed at the group's bravery. In a flash of bright light, Galaxor transformed into his usual godly body with his golden-blue-purple-ish aura radiating strongly.

“Hey-ho human. While in presence, you may speak. I, Galaxor, God of Heroism, Knowledge and Time, give you permission. Now, before your friend ill advised you, what was your answer to my question? Not your current answer, your previous answer. Not knowing what I am, even if you were suspecting it. ”

Blinking quickly and backing away from the god’s bright aura, Longsight raised a hand to his eyes and squinted at the mighty being. “I-” he began, his voice a croak, “it’s a bad idea.” He said. “We can’t defeat gods- or demons, whatever that thing from yesterday was. And… well, you didn’t seem like you wanted us harm, so I thought there was no need to worry- even if you were a god after all. What would I do?” He paused for a few moments, “if I could avoid fighting a foe I had no hope against, I think I’d do so. But if I had no choice, say if Badboy was in danger or if the fight was for some other reason forced on me - and it was forced on me when you challenged me; what man of honour would flee when challenged? - then there is no choice but to fight bravely and die. As they say, the brave are remembered in the songs of harvest while the coward has no song- but is perhaps cursed by the hearthstone of winter.”

Galaxor laughed out loud at Longsight’s explanation and answer but still shook his head in the end.

“While you do give a good, honest, answer for it, something that I appreciate, there is something you’ve missed. I didn’t challenge you to a fight, a fight requires both parties to be equal or similar in power to make it fair. Even if I’d fight you without any of the many powers in my arsenal, I still have aeons of combat experience and the knowledge of all the universe. It would be less than fair. What I did, was to ask you a simple question, “Do you think you can take me in a fight?”. The answer was obvious, no and that’s it. It ain’t cowardice if you accept that one adversary is more powerful than you, it’s stupidity. What do you do when you meet an adversary more powerful than you? Retreat, train to get better and return. Trust me, there’s more than enough time for everything…if one plans it right. ” said Galaxor before half-remembering that Badboy was still suspended in air.

Waving his hand, he gently let him touch the ground but still banned him from speaking. “Badboy. A fitting name. You should learn how to think before acting. Being brave doesn’t do you any good if you end up dying for those you try to protect. Now, stay silent while I talk with your friend and before you try something, remember that I’m a divine and I don’t wish to have to kill your friend because you’ve done something rash and had to send you in a den of Outer Beasts. Alright? ” The boy scowled at the god, picked himself and Headsplitter up, walked five purposeful steps away, and plopped himself down on the meatbag.

“He’s been a bit off it since we got here…” Longsight explained, looking at the god, “I reckon he just misses Rockpetter.” A small smile hovered on his lips, and then his eyes grew hooded. Breathing whatever dark thought had beset him away, a certain curiosity overtook him and glimmered in his dark eyes. “I don’t mean to sound unduly curious- or, heaven forbid, ungrateful- but… you are the second god - though I still don’t know if that thing from yesterday was anything such!.. But you are the second great being to take an interest in us in so many days. And you certainly don’t seem so keen on punishing us, else you would’ve done so already I think- certainly that demon punished us for far less! Anyway, I ramble, but what I mean to say is this: what is your purpose with us? What is the reason behind all this that you’re doing? That beast, that riddle, these questions, these… tricks? Puzzles? Are you just toying with us or is there something more to it? I mean, I’m sure a being so powerful as you could just about toy what whatever he likes- there’s nothing we can do to stop you- but indulge my curiosity, if you will.”

“Rockpetter. Interesting name, maybe I’ll pay her a visit. Tell her how bad, Badboy was. ” said Galaxor initially with a wink towards Badboy. The boy gave the god a sidelong glance, his pretence at nonchalance breaking momentarily before he straightened himself and returned to idling on the sack.

“I’m not sure whom you’ve met yesterday, be it an aspect of the Goddess Sylia or herself, but it was related to the person who put up the wall behind you. If I were to guess what happened by how you’ve reacted to me…did you try to attack her? ‘Cause if you did, you’re lucky you’re here and not dead. As for why I took interest in you. Hmm. ” continued Galaxor while making a few chairs appear and a table with a few bottles of RALK. Longsight’s eyes widened on seeing it, and even Badboy on his sack looked over in surprise. It was clear they recognised the drink.

“Take a seat, drink up. It’s quite a divine drink. Now, where were we? Ah. Yes, Why I took an interest in you. Very simple. I didn’t. Some humans that reached one of my temples told me a story about a wall and the Goddess Sylia. Thought I might see it for myself and then I saw you two. Let’s say I looked into the future and neither of you survive out here, Badboy dies first always…and it ain’t a nice death. Decided to see if you’re worth something. Call it curiosity. ”

Having taken a seat, Longsight eyed the god across him and chewed at his lip upon hearing the revelation. “I… well…” he seemed crestfallen momentarily. He glanced over at Badboy, who was looking over at him, having clearly heard. If the blood-streaked boy was fazed by the words, he didn’t show it. Anger glimmering in his eyes, Longsight turned back to the god. “With all respect- and I mean it, I’ve no business offending any gods- but your words mean nothing to us. If in every future we are to die, then… then…” he tried to chalk up the words that would illustrate his anger, resolve, “then to shit with every future- Badboy and I will make our own. We’re getting out of here, we’re returning to our clan- to Reaper and Donkeywhacker and Rockpetter and Lifedancer and Herbsprinkler, to everyone! And when we get back to them, we’re going to Fort Skybreak and we’re finding all the others. That’s our future uh- Gacks- Galakser. It’s the only one that matters- you don’t see it ‘cause we’ve not bashed it into existence yet!” A grin, reminiscent of Badboy’s, if less crazed, spread across his face. “We’re Revenits; we traverse the sandracked wastes and live against the odds, it’s what we do.”

“I applaud your bravery again but, as I said, I did see all potential futures. Not saying there isn’t a chance one of you escapes this place but not both of you. Never, both of you. As for disrespect, don’t worry about it. I, for one, can understand that mortals care about their lives and in times of fear…they bash out. It’s normal, just your nature. ” replied Galaxor before drinking a whole bottle of RALK in one gulp and throwing it behind him, only for it to reappear on the table, full once more.

“In every future where you two are left alone, you will die. Unless Sylia decides to forgive you or any other divines intervene to save your lives, you’ve got no chance. Yet, here I come in. I find myself in need of an aide. My Goblin Underground has more than enough to handle. You, Longsight, hold potential for greatness. That’s obvious to anyone and in all my predictions, you always fight to survive. When you’ve lost an arm, a leg…when your whole lower part was being eaten by an Outer Beast you clawed yourself out of the pool of your own blood, killed it and somehow still survived to kill another one. ”

The boy’s face was a picture of horror and…a certain galvanised animation. He had no desire- or intention- to be consumed on this beast-blasted shore, and yet the idea that he would fight so indomitably, unbreaking despite the breaking of his body, stirred the fire of his browned coal eyes. He leaned forward. “I’ve spoken my piece. I’ve no desire to die here- but if my future is, as you say, to die so bravely, then so be it! Such a death can hardly be called death anyway- that is ascendance into glory and eternal life!” he paused, calming his excited breathing, “but… an aide, you say? You mean… you need me? Or, rather, you want me? I don’t understand. What for?”

“Gods, Longsight you remind me of myself when I was but a mortal. Brave as for 10 people and dumber than 20 but before I say anything else, let me show you both what I’m talking about. Fair warning, you might get a headache after this. ” said Galaxor with a smile before taking off his eye-patch and revealing his chrono-eye. Immediately both of them were drawn to look into it.

As the two humans looked into his eyes, they found themselves transported back to where they were just seconds before Galaxor showed up. From there, they continued on their journey and survived for a few weeks, only for Badboy to be killed by an Outer Beast. Longsight managed to survive a few more days after. The moment they were killed, they were transported back to the original place and so it went on until twenty different futures were shown, all in which they died…and then they were back, looking at Galaxor.

“That’s all you can handle currently. If I showed you more your brains would turn into dust…think for a second of what you’ve seen and believe me when I say, all your futures end like that. I selected the ones that aren’t too gory so they only get worse from there on. ” Galaxor finally said before giving them a few minutes to think things through. Satisfied, he turned to Longsight.

“Aye, you’ve got the stuff of heroes even if you’re not the sharpest tool. No one is, that’s why one needs to study more. As for what I need you…It’s quite an important task. I’ve seen the fate of this place and it doesn’t end well for it. Time is fickle, easily manipulated. You’ve been stuck in the sandwaves for a long time but back at the Goblin Underground, you only spent a few days. I know it’ll be hard for you to understand but know that if things go on like this, bad things will happen. Very bad things. I need someone to handle any and all discrepancies in time. ” Longsight blinked at the god, not fully understanding what was meant. Perhaps the strange visions he had shown them were still addling their minds, but it took Longsight many long seconds to process and reprocess what the god had said.

At the Goblin Underground…
only a few days…
time is fickle…
stuck here a long time…
but back at the Goblin Underground…

He reeled back, eyes wide.

“I… don’t know what- how.” He frowned, and his eyes grew wide. Time is fickle. They had awoken to beasts long thought to be the stuff of myth. Ancient myth. They had awoken to find them upon them in peaceful, sleepy, happy Renev. And escaping that carnage northward towards Fort Skybreak they had found not Fort Skybreak but… desert. Endless desert. Desert as was whispered of sometimes in the most ancient epics relaying the beginning of all things- mad stuff that only brain-addled monks and ascetics passing through the village on their endless voyages blabbered about. A mad hellish desert with divine wheels rolling across to deliver the people of the world from the plains of hell to the promised riverlands. All mad nonesenes, he had always thought and been told, conjured up in the mad ravings of wandering loons. And yet… time is fickle. His heart beating loud and fast, he gasped for breath and would have fallen had he not been seated on the chair. Their troubles… everything that had happened to them these last five, six, seven- gods only knew - years: it was all the fault of fickle time. His eyes saw it now. He could not see it otherwise. With those coals of brown, he SAW it.

His hands shaking and mind still reeling from the epiphanic unveiling of the truth and simultaneous breaking of all he understood of reality, he looked at the god. “I’ll do it.” He said simply, without any explanation.

Galaxor gave the two a minute to calm down and come to terms with what they've seen, it wasn't easy to know what awaited you. It wasn't easy knowing you'll die a horrible death and seeing your death. It wasn't easy knowing that all you've known to be a myth and mad sprouting of lunatics to be true. Meeting divine beings was never easy and almost always illuminating.

With a glimmer in his other eye, Galaxor studied Longsight. There was no hesitation, no fear. Just determination. Cold and strong as divinium determination, yet he had to be sure.

“Are you sure, mortal? You'll never be able to stop being my aide. I'll always know where you are and what you're doing. I'll always be with you in a sense. Your duty won't, ever, stop. So, I ask you again. ” said Galaxor, channelling his Aspect of Heroism as his voice became commanding, his golden aura outshining the other two.

“Are you sure?”

The boy rose, the chair falling back behind him. “If it’ll help me understand, and if it’ll help set things aright, then of course.” A gleam of mischief lit up his eyes. “I can’t promise that you won’t be the one with regrets, though! If I can never stop, that only means you’ll be stuck with me!” Badboy had dallied over as they spoke and now stood by Longsight, a smirk on his face. “I’ll do as you bid, but I’ll do it my way.” For a person not in a position to haggle, he knew how to push his luck.

Galaxor laughed out loud at the sheer bravado of Longsight and with a wink, replied: “I can always kill you, you know? As for you doing things your way? I wouldn't want it any other way. If I guide you at every step, you won't learn anything. Now…”

Galaxor closed the distance between him and Longsight and after taking his time-slowing artefact, The Egrioth’s claw, drew on Longsight's chest arcane runes in languages not known to this universe. Blood poured down his chest but as it did, it changed colour to a bright blue and shone with chrono-magic.

When Galaxor was finished with Longsight’s chest, he took some blood on his finger and tapped one of Longsight’s eyes which immediately turned the same colour as Galaxor's chrono-eye. Later on, Longsight would find that the runes would disappear from his body but his blood would remain blue-ish.

A surge of divine energy flowed from Galaxor as the runes activated and Longsight fell on the ground as his body was attuned to the timelines.

“And it's done. You'll feel the power coursing through your veins. Stronger, faster - more charming and intelligent too. All things that come with being a hero of Galaxor. The powers I've bestowed upon you will take time to get adjusted to. Your life will never be the same. Your friends will seem boring in comparison to who you are now. Your destiny has been changed forever and don't forget, when I call…you gotta answer. No choice in the matter.”

The boy was quiet as the god’s powers worked their way into his form and altered the fundamentals of his being. Even if he wished to say something witty or snarky in response, the weight of what rushed through him made that nigh impossible. His long brown hair was saturated with power and stood rigid, blue veins streaked across his form, seemed to split his very skin and carve themselves into it in pulses. The blood in his heart boiled and gurgled, shedding forever its crimson hue for that cool, all-seeing blue. It would be difficult to correctly call the boy ‘human’ after this; he was now a being almost at one with the chronoflows. His sight would be irreversibly changed- whatever long sight he might have had before this will be nothing but the scramblings of a field mouse in a hole.

It was a while before the energies grew calm and the veins of blue light faded until nothing remained of them but his right eye, now of milky blue, and a few angular vein-like runes that speared out from the epicentre of his eye up his brow and down his cheek, pulsing gently. Badboy gazed at him in curiosity and awe. Then he grinned, and Longsight knew what that mischievous look meant. You’re in the shit now. He had no doubt about that - but maybe it would be some good shit. He looked up at Galaxor. “Now with that… we’ll survive right? Both of us. We’ll return to our people- with that, none of those visions will be, right?”

“I don’t actually know, not even I can see your future anymore Longsight. You've been removed from the timeline but, what I know is that you won’t be alone. As soon as I leave, your voices will be taken away from you. If you’re to survive in this place, hero of mine, you’ll need multiple things and one of them is the ability to communicate more than through…looks and signs. Give me a moment. ” said Galaxor before teleporting away but not before making some food and more RALK appear on the table. The two boys glanced at one another, their stomachs rumbling audibly, and launched themselves at the veritable feast.

After about twenty minutes Galaxor reappeared and with him, four goblins. Two of them were the small type of goblin and two were massive, each two metres tall. Out of them, one of the smaller ones and one of the bigger type, wore long robes that covered every inch of their body but their face while the other two, were dressed in diamond armour.

“And I'm back. These four are Fee, Fie, Fo and Fum. Guards and novices at my Library back in the Goblin Underground. They'll keep you safe and they will teach you the art of writing. Any command you have, they'll follow it…Longsight. Only your commands. They won't listen to anyone but you. ” said Galaxor as he pointed at each goblin, which did a small bow towards Longsight, as he named them. Badboy eyed the goblins with pursed lips, fiddling with the handle of Headsplitter, as Longsight acknowledged the four. “I’ll remember that - there’s safety in numbers, no doubt, and a way to talk to one another will be good. Heaven knows this whole gesticulating stuff is wearisome.” Badboy nodded glumly at his words, then flashed the god an annoyed glare for not removing the curse if even for a moment. He did not stay angry too long, however, for he got to grabbing whatever undrunk RALK and uneaten food remained on the table and delivered it into their meatbag for later.

Looking at Badboy, Galaxor shook his head and then nodded at him, giving him permission to say exactly 20 words.

“You’ve got 20 words, Badboy and then back to silence, use them smartly. Two of the guards are experienced in survival underground, maybe you’ll find yourself a nice cave. In a year or two, you might even reach some place below the wall somehow. The other two are smart. They know many things. Ask them and they’ll answer to the best of their ability but don’t expect much, you need to show that you want to learn.”

RALK and foodstuff in hand, Badboy looked up at the god. “Look here bossman, if anyone should get any sort of powers here, it should be ME.” Satisfied that he had made his position abundantly clear, he continued. “Is Rockpetter doing alright?” He asked. He had spoken swiftly, true enough, but had managed to say everything he wanted exactly in those twenty words. It was likely nothing more than sheer dumb luck. The blood-streaked boy did not wait for an answer, but turned around and hobbled towards the meatbag to drop more of his haul into it.

“I’ve given you the power of being alive, as you’d be dead otherwise. If you want me to retract my power, let me know and I will. ” said Galaxor while teleporting right in front of him, staring him into the eyes with the Aspect of Heroism. The one that managed to intimidate divine beings with. The boy dropped what he was holding and fell onto his bottom, clearly shaken.

After a second or two, Galaxor burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. Don’t worry, but I suggest that you keep your mouth shut if you meet other divine beings or at least try to show some respect to your betters.. As for Rockpetter? She’s alive. I can’t take you there but here. ” added Galaxor as he stared once more with the chrono-eye into Badboy’s eyes. This time, Badboy would feel time go backwards even more than before, back to when he was with Rockpetter.

“Argh!” Badboy screamed, throwing his axe to the ground. “Look what you did, Rockpetter! You held me up and I missed all the fun!” He glared at the girl, and she frowned back. “Don’t shout at me!” She shouted, whacking him with her stick, at which he yelped and ducked behind Longsight. “I told you not to come with us! You just slow me down!” He insisted, barely managing to avoid another strike from her, which instead caught Galloper on the buttocks. The bigger man swore, but the girl had already disappeared after Badboy.

On the black sand, Badboy shook himself from the vision, a smile on his face. She sure knew how to whack a lad. He looked up at Galaxor and slowly ascended to his feet. Giving the god a thumbs-up by way of thanks, he rushed back to the table - magically full again! - and grabbed what he could. It was going to be a long five years after all, they had to stock up.

“You’re welcome, Badboy. Actually, fine, you may speak until I leave. ” said Galaxor before turning to Longsight. Badboy whooped in the background, running in circles around the waiting goblins even as his great food heist continued.

“While I’m here,” Longsight said to the god, “that is, while serving this wholly unjust prison sentence, is there anything you’ll need me to do as far as the duties you mentioned go? Other than surviving, of course, and learning what Fee, Fi, Fo, and Fum have to teach.” He glanced at the goblins uncertainly.

“If you acted like you did with me…it isn’t unjust. She could’ve killed you both and yet, here you are. Alive. Or she could’ve cursed you and your kin or many-many other horrific ways to torture you. As for what I want you to do. It’s quite simple. I need you to master your new powers or at least reach a level of proficiency with them that is acceptable. You won’t be able to do much at first but with time, you’ll be able to stop time for short periods of time, revert the passage of time over objects or people or use your eye like I did and see visions of the future or the past. It won’t be an easy task, that’s guaranteed and don’t try to overdue it. The strain on your body will kill you if you try to use your powers too much, generally stopping when you feel “out-of-time”, when past present and future are the same to you, that’s when you stop and don’t continue until the feeling is gone. No matter how long it takes. Trust me, you don’t want to end up a timeless spectre. ” explained Galaxor with a calm tone.

Longsight nodded in understanding. “So be it. In that case, it is best we make a move now. It will be sunset soon and I don’t like the idea of spending another night out in the open. We need to walk quickly if we’re to get to the cliff before dusk.” Moving over to the now overstuffed bag, he called out for Badboy to come help him with it. “Let this big fella do it!” The boy shouted back, gesturing at Fo, one of the two great-goblins. “I’m not some ox!” The blood-streaked boy continued. Longsight glanced at the two great-goblins, then at Galaxor. Without complaint, Fo moved across and, with remarkable ease, hefted the bag over one shoulder. RALK bottles and assortments of food fell helter-skelter to the sand, to the protestations and profanities of Badboy.

Ignoring him as he lectured Fo, Longsight turned back to the god. “We’ll be going now, if you’ll allow us.” He paused for a few moments. “It… it’s been a pleasure. Far more than our first encounter, that’s for sure - and though we can no doubt disagree on the justice or otherwise of this state of affairs, you’ll not catch me being ungrateful. I - we - owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Waving a hand at them, Galaxor appeared in front of the group. “You plan on walking there? Blah. Let me give you a small push forward and yes, you do owe me. Both of you. I’ll come and collect soon enough. Especially the debt Badboy owes me. That’ll be fun to collect. ” said Galaxor with a laugh before waving his hand as if to “shoo” the group away, teleporting them close to the cliff, about five minutes away from it in fact. Badboy looked at Longsight, wide-eyed and dazed. Longsight turned away and placed one foot on a nearby rock, and gazed silently into the endless red waves.

• Summary [+]

  Galaxor, deep in the Gobling Underground, receives word of Sylia’s great wall and decides to go see what’s going on. From atop the wall, he observes Longsight and Badboy killing that walrus-beast and, seeing potential in them, decides to TEST THEM FOR HEROISM. The tests include fighting a manticore outer beast (they pass!), answering riddles (they fail), prioritising social groupings (they pass!) and seeing whether they can beat up a god (they sorta fail-pass). Galaxor shows the lads that they will die on their own. He also helps Longsight realise that THEY’RE FROM THE FUTURE AND TIME IS A MESS. At that point, Galaxor hooks Longsight in with talk of needing him to be a glorious HERO OF TIME; protecting the timeliness and preventing chaos. Longsight agrees and is HEROIFIED. Galaxor additionally assigns two goblins and two greatgoblins to assist them on their questing and help them learn to write AMONGST OTHER THINGS.
  Badboy, knowing what to prioritise, conducts a successful heist on the magically-replenishing food table Galaxor had conjured while they chatted. By way of farewell, Galaxor teleports the heroic party closer to the cliff they’re journeying towards. (Which leaves us with the question: why didn’t the eagles just carry the hobbits to Mordor?)
  
  Characters featured or mentioned:
  Galaxor: The glorious god of heroes, knowledge, and time. Ever on the search for HEROISM wherever it may be found.
  – Longsight: our lil hero. After running his mouth at Sylia and being imprisoned beyond the wall, he is now a glorious war hammer-swinging chronomancer hero of the lord of time!
  – Badboy: our very own blood-streaked, headsplitting madboy. Longsight’s close friend and co-conspirator.
  Rockpetter: Badboy’s shadow. Whacks him silly for running his tongue at her, but adores him really. Now she’s been parted from him! Oh the heartbreak.
  Sylia: Glorious goddess of crafts and earth, slayer of the outer beasts, builder of the wall, warden eternal, and punisher of naughty little kids who can’t shut the hell up.
  Fee: A goblin librarian who now joins Longsight and Badboy’s heroic party!
  Fi: A goblin librarian who now joins Longsight and Badboy’s heroic party!
  Fo: A greatgoblin who now joins Longsight and Badboy’s heroic party! Destroyer of much RALK.
  Fum: A greatgoblin who now joins Longsight and Badboy’s heroic party!
• MP [+]

  Available - 3
  -1 MP to turn Longsight into a HEROOO
  -1 MP (1 MP bonus from domain) to create Chrono-Magic. Magic which as one practises its use, will allow a user to see and alter the flow of time. Slowing it down, speeding it up, stopping it, turning time back/forward on small areas, seeing the past of objects and people and even potential futures. Importantly, it allows one to act as something of a time guardian and so prevent especially destructive collisions between possible futures and possible pasts, such as occurred with Longsight and his people. This type of magic is a genetic gene as well which will always be passed forward to any children that Longsight might have in the future.
  Remaining - 1 MP

The accursed sun had risen again on the far eastern horizon. It was a deep red, filtered dimly through the flaps of the tent. The sands splattered every colour on Galbar, blood, all of it. The goblins’ blood, slaughtered ruthlessly by the horde, had been red, and as their bodies cooled the sand drank its fill. The beasts had bled purple, silver, blue, the great hydra tan. Their bodies lay intermixed with the goblins, and across the crest of the dune, in a great pile stacked twenty feet high, depressed in the centre where the strider had stood and fought.

One side of the pile lay collapsed inwards. Evidence of the Hydra’s first vicious assault. Its tan blood streaked onto the far horizon, when it had fled even in victory. The strider’s body still pained, every crack in its shell a blossom of agony. It could not feel its head still, the exposed fiber optics raw and sending its body into twitches every time the flap blew just right to let the red dawn sunlight in. A manipulator arm reached up, and it knew that one side of its head had been completely shattered; the rest may recover, but this wound would not.

And then it returned to the pain. It could not feel its head, for it was curdled in pure agony. The tent was goblin-sized; only its head could lay in the tent, and the cover was simply not enough. Sand worked on the cracks in its body, slowing their healing and prolonging the aches. Not far away, the remaining tents still smouldered where some outer beast, imbued with the power of inferno, had torched them. Lazy wisps of smoke were lost to the ever-present sandstorm, which had slowed in recent hours. The wind was almost a howl of mourning, though for the goblins, it, or the horde of beasts, the strider could not tell.

Amongst the howls, however, snuck other sounds. They were faint, subtle, barely audible at all - certainly impossible for lesser beings. The strider heard it however. The rustle of clothes against skin, slowly released breaths, feet - booted or otherwise - stroking the sands. Soon enough they were rooting through the camp - still carefully, but turning the odd body here or there, turning tent flaps to check for danger. A few feet passed by the strider, paused a while (perhaps eyeing the strange still thing) but did not approach. They moved on.

Or at least the strider thought they did. Moments later, there was a shuffle - little feet with little grace - and a small hand was upon its side, warm and curious. It had been analysing the sounds; these were no beasts, their stride clumsy but lacking in size. Nonetheless; it had walked blindly into a new situation once before, and its head had been shattered for its trouble. If they pulled back the tent flaps, it would be helpless. It tried to redirect its light to blind whoever had touched its hard crystalline surface; instead, the red dawn light scattered through its body into a glimmering kaleidoscope.

Painful, yes, but also beautiful to whatever had approached it. Every colour of the rainbow shimmered out, its ability to direct the light broken with the cracks through its crystalline matrix. The response was audibly euphoric, and rather than release the chromatic being, the small-handed interloper murmured and rested both hands and even a face on the strider’s crystal form. “So pretty!” A feminine voice intonated. “So shiny. What a pretty rock. Pretty pretty pretty!” The interloper brushed its - her? - hands across its side, and even as she continued murmuring voices could be heard from afar and quick steps beat at the earth as the people gathered to see what manner of being had sent forth what was no doubt a beacon of colour summoning all who could see to its place.

“Rockpetter! Come here girl, step away from that.” A stern voice sounded. The ‘girl’ at the strider’s side did not move away, still murmuring and humming to herself. “But it’s so pretty Reaper,” she intonated, more to herself, “can I keep it?” Swift footsteps approached and the girl was lifted up and away from the strider. “We don’t know what it is, Pet,” the same voice from before - ‘Reaper’, she had called it - spoke, and as swiftly as the steps had approached they moved away. “Please Reaper,” the girl spoke once more, “please please pleeease.”

Language; this was something the strider had prepared itself for. This confirmed that they were not the same beasts that had originally accosted it. The horde had only roared, belched, and screamed. The lights faded away as it let its body naturally reflect once more, and it intoned out, each syllable from a different part of its body, the lilting quality made harsher by the abrupt ringing of cracked crystal, “Who are you? Hold down the tent flap, don’t let the sunlight in!” Most of those gathered had clearly not anticipated that it would speak, and cries of shock and fear rose up.

“It’s the demon-goddess again!” Someone cried, “it’s just like you said Reaper! Tanituunitin protect us!” As the gathered people cleared away at speed, Reaper’s voice sounded. “Calm yourselves! I will speak to it, just stay calm and keep back. And no one else speak.” His last words were a razor-edged command, he would brook no disobedience. His footsteps grew close, and behind him was the pitter-patter of small familiar feet - no doubt that ‘Rockpetter’, a curious one. Her feet could not lie. “Hail, strange being.” Came Reaper’s voice from a near, but safe, distance. “I am Reaper of the Renevits.” Little feet pattered about him and there was a squeal as he audibly caught Rockpetter and hailed her up to him, “and this here is Rockpetter - forgive her curiosity, she has yet to shed her childhood follies.” A few smacks indicated that Rockpetter had not taken too kindly to being hauled up, and her voice sounded over and across Reaper’s calm and unperturbed one. “We have no intention of doing anything to your tent and will not disturb you…” he paused, “we… were simply drawn by the terrible carnage here. Was… this your doing? Are you another god hunting down beasts?”

The strider let it process a moment; listened and did not entirely understand. This was only the second time they had come across something not immediately hostile, and many of the concepts it now grappled with confused it, momentarily. A new one; authority, and clear hierarchy, that nonetheless not all seemed to fully respect. New concepts with new nuances to ponder. When it spoke once more, that same edge of broken crystal in its voice, it said, “No.. No, I’m not, I don’t think I am, a god. I woke up in this desert, and I have wandered it since,” the flap of the tent blew open in the endless storm, briefly, and wisps of light hit the hole in its head. It spasmed, cut off for a moment before it continued, strained, “I saw smoke, and I came to see.. And I was attacked – please, the tent flap, hold it down. Don’t let the sun in.”

There was uncertain silence for a while, and then the one named Reaper sighed and approached. Rockpetter cheered as they knelt by the tent flap and big hands - far bigger and rougher than Rockpetter’s - closed the flap tightly. “I want to hold it!” Rockpetter insisted, wrestling for the flaps, but Reaper did not allow her to inadvertently open them. “Carefully, carefully Pet,” he assured, “no need to rush, here you can hold it here. Remember, don’t open it whatever you do.” The man’s weight shifted away, small hands replaced his, and the girl hummed once more in delight. She stayed like that for a time, now stroking the strider and now returning her hands to the flap so that it would not open an iota. In the background, the clansmen whispered, hissed, and grumbled. Not all of them were as trusting or enamoured as Rockpetter, not all as unperturbed as Reaper - “you, Reaper! Of all of us you should be most cautious! It was from right under your nose that- that- whatever-it-was killed- kidnapped- gods! And now you’d have Rockpetter, of all people, sit by that thing?! Hasn’t the poor lass suffered enough? She’s hardly been sane since Badbo-” the voice was cut-off, but not soon enough. Rockpetter’s hands stiffened against the strider and her happy humming ceased.

“Badboy,” she croaked, clutching the tent flap for a few moments. She trailed a finger across the strider's neck, and after a few moments the hushed whispers resumed in the background. “Hey!” Rockpetter shouted suddenly, raising the tent flap, “come outside, let’s go play!”

Rockpetter only had the briefest moment to see the deep gouge in the strider’s head, before the red dawn light found its way into the exposed fibre optic. It was the pain and helplessness of the previous day anew – the strider suddenly erupted into a violent seizure, light flashing randomly about it as everything spasmed. Its entire world was overtaken, nothing but it and the accursed sun that coursed through its nervous system. It could almost swear, through one good eye, that the sun was smiling, Rockpetter nothing but a dim blur through the agony. Its body thrashed wildly, and something nearing a scream rattled through its crystals, taking a different tone and volume with each separate crystal matrix it ran through. The girl’s form remained for only brief seconds, a form moved in her place and darkness swiftly returned.

When some degree of consciousness had returned to the strider, it heard fretting not too far from it. “Rockpetter you stupid girl, why do you never listen? Look what you’ve gone and done now. You’re lucky you didn’t lose all your fingers.” It was an unfamiliar voice, stern and feminine. “I didn’t know it was sick, Lifedancer,” Rockpetter’s voice came, “I’d’ve called you, I swear!” She insisted loudly. “Will she be alright, Dance?” Reaper’s voice sounded, closest to the flap. Those were his hands clamping down tightly so that not a ray of sunlight could make it through. “I don’t know, it’s like she’s been burned all over.” The one called Lifedancer murmured. “I’ll take her to my tent, I’ll be able to see better to her there.” At this, Rockpetter started protesting, screeching about the ‘lightrock’ being more ill than her and needing Lifedancer. “Lemme go! Lemme gooo,” she struggled, but a heavy-footed form had clearly caught her and was following the light footfalls of the one they had called Lifedancer. Rockpetter’s screams disappeared into the distance. Reaper’s long, calm breathing and rough hands remained.

“My apologies, it was wrong to entrust you to a child.” He said gruffly. “She is more stubborn than the river and just wears you down until you’ve no energy left to stand in the way of her whims and fancies. She’ll be the death of me one day,” he chuckled good-naturedly, then paused. “Uh. Is there nothing we can do to free you of your predicament? I don’t think remaining inside this tent will do you much good.”

It still felt the accursed sun flowing through its light veins, its steely muscles worn to the edge of giving up completely. The voice that emerged from the strider’s body was strained, exhausted in some way that could be felt through the vibrations of the crystals, “There were other tents nearby, strip them and bring the material in here. Wrap it around my head,” it paused, thinking a moment, before it continued, “I won’t be able to see with the material wrapped around my head, but I won’t be stuck in here anymore.” It was not long before the man named Reaper had done exactly as bidden. The reliable sort, it seemed. An odd pinnacle to the pyramid of hierarchy, for he seemed well-disposed towards serving. “Is that good now?” He asked once he had tied a few layers of tent fabric around its head.

There was only one way for the strider to know for sure; it tentatively lifted one of the flaps with a manipulator arm – and nothing changed. The world remained blacked out, and the strider shifted all at once. It lifted itself up, on shaky arms, shaky legs, and a shaky tail. Standing up, it was clear just how injured the strider was; gouges and jagged, shattered crystal all over its body. A rattling chime emerged from it as it strained to stand up straight, towering over the creatures it could not see. It was difficult to look at; the reflected sunlight was just too bright. It took a few experimental steps, and then said, each syllable still from a different part of its body, “It worked. Thank you, but I still do not understand who you are, or why you have come across this,” it spun around, as though to gesture at the burned camp and the many corpses, “accursed place.”

Keeping some distance from it, for his heavy footfalls were not as near as before, the one named Reaper spoke in a deep voice, which betrayed that he may once have belted songs into the fresh summer air. “Not out of choice, friend, I assure you. We are from Renev, a farming village in the shielding of Lord Quickblade of Fort Skybreak. One day we awoke to terrible carnage - great beasts, demons of myth…” he paused, “some, forgive me for saying so much, not very unlike you. But then, all great beings, the seraphic and the daemonic, may not appear so different in a peasant’s eyes.” He loosed a sigh. “And so those of us who could escape did just that. We’ve been wandering now for years, and we’ve not much clue where we are or how we ended up here. We escaped northward for Fort Skybreak, and we only found sand and rock. We search still though, perhaps a lucky star will shine on us and guide us to the fort - and no doubt to many loved ones who, we hope, made it safely there.” There was momentary silence. “What are we to call you, friend? If you don’t catch yourself Rockpetter will have near everyone calling you Lightrock before you know it!”

The strider had not considered this; it remembered back to Jaxx, how the green creature had called itself that. It thought on it for a few moments, its head tilting even as the leather wrapped around them. When it spoke, its tone was almost curious, “Call me Elutil. You speak of farming, what is that? I presume if you are searching for a place, it must be fixed in location – this is possible, in these sands? Or do you mean to say this is not all there is?”

The strider looked up at the sky, though it was more for effect than anything, blinded as it was. It considered the implications it could pull from Reaper’s words alone. Elutil didn’t give them a chance to respond to its first question before it was asking more, “Great beasts and demons of myth, you say? Are they the ones that fell upon me, whose bodies I stacked as they all tore at me? I have only seen one of the green creatures they slaughtered before – minus the corpses in this camp. Are you of the same kind? Was this your camp, or have you only stumbled across it as I did?”

Reaper chuckled at its many questions. “You have enough questions to fill the night, Elutil. But I have not eaten, and perhaps you too are hungry, so let us go sit with others and fill our empty stomachs. Over food, I will answer what I can - I had hoped, with you having the look of a mythic creature indeed, that you’d have more answers for us than questions. But colour me surprised - it seems quite the opposite. Were I not to be presumptuous I would not reckon you to have wandered the world very long - but I doubt that, what with your immense size and maturity. Perhaps the desert has a way with addling our minds after all.” And so saying, the man’s heavy footfalls indicated that he had begun to walk away.

Elutil hurried along, listening carefully for Reaper’s footsteps. As it followed behind, it listened further, trying to ascertain the number of these creatures. But, soon, more questions bubbled up, though it felt compelled to respond first, “I have wandered perhaps.. Fifteen sunrises, since I first awoke in this wasteland. In that time, I have pondered both the turning of the wind and the storms, and linguistics, after my first encounter with one of the small green creatures. The green creature was stolen from me by some enormous wheel that ran along the sands. I do not know why it left me behind.” Silence followed its revelation - something it told it that the one called Reaper had not expected what it said. Eventually they approached an area where the sound of fire crackled against the hubbub of clansmen chattering, and the smell of roasting meat filled the air.

“Herbsprinkler, get us something good for our guest,” Reaper’s voice sounded. His voice emanated from closer to the ground, not far from the flame, suggesting he had seated himself by it. “Something good?” The response came, likely from the one named Herbsprinkler, “your guest’s big enough to eat just about everything!” A loud giggle followed the words. “And you think the world’s going to run out of food if it does? Its name’s Elutil by the way, sounds Eastriverish.” Reaper responded. “Come here Il-oo-til,” Herbsprinkler enunciated the name, “this here’s well-spiced. None of Justroastit’s rubbish for you!”

As Elutil sat down in front of the fire – more laying down, though with its upper body upright rather than against the ground. As it did so, it asked, “Eastriverish? What’s an east river? Is it what’s breaking the sandstorm north of here?” It then reached out a striking arm, prodding the meat laid out for it almost hesitantly. Something seemed to click in its head, and it said, once more not waiting for an answer to its first question, “Oh, I think I get why all of you little creatures seem to have carried around meat now,” it lowered its head to sniff at the meat, and then continued, “I do not eat meat. I fill myself with new knowledge; at first, the patterns of the storm, and later linguistics. Before both, I pondered individual grains of sand, and they would simply disappear. It was not very filling.” After a few (likely confused, these creatures seemed easily baffled) moments, Herbsprinkler spoke: “Don’t eat meat!? A big thing like you? Don’t be shy now, it’s my special mix of herb and spices - you don’t get that on these wastes you know! This stuff’s from back in Renev, been using it pinch by little pinch. Go on go on. Goodness, not only’s your name Eastriverish, you talk a lot of Eastriverish too!”

Elutil swivelled their head over to the source of the voice, though they could not see it. They tilted their head, still wrapped in leather, and thought about the response for a moment. When it clicked, they said, emphasising each syllable and how it came from a different section of their body, “Oh! No, I don’t mean as in it’s a choice I’ve made,” a manipulator arm ran across the front of their head, a smooth and unbroken chunk of crystal – if it had not been cracked by the blow that shattered their head – and they continued, “I mean as in I can’t. I have no mouth. Nothing can go inside of my body, because I have no orifices. Even my nose is just scent receptors in a shallow pit. When I said I subsist off of knowledge, I meant literally.”

They straightened their head back out, glittering in the sunlight with uncomfortable brightness as the sun rose further into the sky, and they finished, “I have a hunger reflex, and I feel weaker when I leave it too long; and accordingly, learning new things eliminates that reflex, and I feel stronger for having fulfilled it.”

“Well,” came Herbsprinkler’s voice, clearly affronted, “suit yourself then. Don’t come crying to me when your belly’s retreated to your spine and your knees have gone all crooked from hunger. Come here, Sandskipper. Go give some of this to Lifedancer- and if I hear you’ve had so much as a nibble or a bite it’ll be the flogging of your life you hear!” A spritely voice replied in the affirmative and whatever platter had been laid before the strider was taken up by small strong hands. The pitter patter of bare feet against the rock and sand indicated that the one known as Sandskipper had run off, and the excited shouts and footfalls that followed him said he was not alone.

“So that’s what you do, is it Elutil?” Reaper spoke up between mouthfuls, “you gander about and- whatsit you said? Eat knowledge? Stories and the like?” The strider nodded as they shifted their head to once more face in the direction of Reaper’s voice. They seemed a little taken back by Herbsprinkler’s voice, but recovered quickly. Their response came, “Exactly. I survived by subsisting off of studying the sandstorm for perhaps the first week. Then, linguistics as I travelled north. Every time you answer a question, that is effectively satisfying my hunger.”

They returned their attention to the crackling of the fire, invisible from them beyond the noise, even the heat lost in the haze of the desert. They felt the sand blowing against them from the ever-present storm. And then, Elutil considered Reaper’s sudden silence in response to their previous explanations. A question bubbled into the forefront, and they asked, suddenly cognizant of how Reaper had acted, “When I mentioned a giant wheel, you fell silent as though I had said something familiar, that you had not expected to hear from me. Why is that?”

Audibly swallowing a mouthful, Reaper responded. “Well, gobtrotter tradesmen passing through Renev would always be in those wheely gizmos of theirs. Downriver and upriver, over the hills and through the fields, off chasing money and other things. That’s gobtrotters for you. Don’t let their ugly green mugs or small height deceive, they’ve that fire of mischief and cunning in their eyes. But… before coming here, I don’t think I’d ever seen a gizmo as massive as this one. It’s probably the same as the one you saw. Great terrible things riding the sands, faster than the fastest sandstorm. We saw it a few times. It was like something out of the mad epics of a wandering monk. All that stuff they babble about, you know, great wheels at the beginning of time carrying the people from the fires of hell to the blessed riverlands.” He paused for a few moments, “maybe we did die after all and this is that very hell.” The man mused, suddenly morose. Then his voice picked up again. “But oh! You’re a devious one yourself- already getting stories out of me! It’s not from me you should hear the tales; I’m no story spinner. You should hear such things from Taleweaver.”

Elutil tilted their head at that, and fell silent once more to consider it. They could not see Reaper, but now understood that they must have not been the green creatures, which were evidently goblins. He spoke of them as a stranger would, and thus must have been a different species. They continued, trying to be comforting, “If this is hell, it is poor at its duties. The sandstorm breaks perhaps a few days north of here. I don’t know what you mean by all this talk of rivers, but I suspect that it must be what’s breaking the winds.” They stopped suddenly, turning back to the fire as they pondered the answer further and more questions came to the forefront. Elutil asked, continuing on, “What is a river, anyways? You speak of downriver and upriver, and eastriver. Is it some kind of road? Some tradespine that your world revolves around as it connects you to the rest of your world?”

“You really weren’t joking about that fifteen sunrises stuff, were you?” Reaper chuckled, “I’m starting to think that either we’ve all gone absolutely mad or the world around us has!” He took a moment to bite into whatever meat he was eating, and Herbsprinkler - whose presence Elutil had almost forgotten, though she still fretted and chattered in the background - spoke up. “You keep your dark talk of madness to yourself, Firmplough!” Though she used a strange name, she seemed to be addressing the one named Reaper. “I’ll not have this talk ruin the food. Tasteful talk sweetens the meal, you remember that now.” The man swallowed and chortled, “aye aye- spare me the whip, you’re too young and pretty to be a shrew.” Whatever that meant, Herbsprinkler seemed to take badly to it, for a short second later Reaper let out a small yelp and laughter roared up from the others around him. “That’ll show you a shrew!” Herbsprinkler announced with satisfaction.

Once calm had returned and chatter resumed, Reaper continued. “Anyhow, the river you say. The worldriver. The snake of the world. The blue belt. It goes by many names and every wanderer who has walked its bank or ridden its currents says it has neither beginning nor end, but runs eternally. Water flows in it, and wherever it does there is life and joy and happiness and prosperity- so long as the drakes of war and illness and strife slumber, that is. But anyhow, enough of all that. What will you be doing now? I think we’ll make camp here a day or so- see if there’s anything of value among the remains round here- and we’ll be on our way. You’re welcome to join us, of course, don’t know how well you’ll do out here on your own with your head like that. I don’t take it you were going anywhere in particular now, were you? And I won’t deny, maybe having great thing like you around will be good- you’ll doubtlessly come in handy if we have any nasty encounters in any case.”

Everything Elutil heard around them was filed away, data points as they worked at understanding the people around them. Each word only brought new questions as Elutil thought, water, snakes, the world? The strider had only known the sandstorm, the wastes, and the bloodrains. Their mind had been opened to a wider world. Their head silently faced the fire, their brightness only growing with the intensity of the sun and the height of the fire. More thoughts swam in their head as they put together the disparate pieces and considered the potential of everything they had heard. Even on such an alien body, with their head wrapped up, it was clear they were lost in thought. Any hunger Elutil felt, by now, had definitively vanished.

When Elutil spoke again, they swivelled their head around, as though to acknowledge everybody around the fire, though they could only guess at their locations and sitting order, “I was heading north, to see what it was breaking the sandstorm. I suspect that is where you will head – and so I believe I will stay with you for a time. Please do not ask me to fight more, however; I have had my fill of it and I find fighting a poor pastime.” There were grunts of acknowledgements, and a few high-pitched cheers further off indicated that some children had received its words with excitement.

“Won’t eat, won’t fight, just chatter chatter chatter,” Herbsprinkler laughed, “maybe we can teach you to clean and tidy up a little, get some use out of you.” As she spoke, Reaper was heard to get up and pat himself down. “Come now, Herbs, spare our guest for three days at least.” He implored. She chuckled and audibly patted him down too. “Fine, just three days then - and then it’s work work work for that one!” Though the conversation seemed of a serious nature, something about it - perhaps the tone, the slight drawl as ‘Herbs’ spoke - suggested that there was more to it. That, perhaps, it was in fact of an entirely unserious nature. It was difficult to pinpoint, however.

Elutil tilted their head in acknowledgement at Herbsprinkler, though they already felt tired from their wounds, as early in the day as it was. Too tired to provide any witty response, and they settled on silence, as they gleamed brightly in the sunlight. For now, Elutil decided, they would simply listen and learn. They had been exposed to so many new things they felt glutted, and suspected that their exhaustion was from the exertion of healing. To the strider, it looked as though things were looking up once more.

---

There comes a time in one’s life where the catalyst of change marks a heavy toll. That was what he kept telling himself. What he was trying so desperately to believe in. To force that truth into his broken soul. If he was capable, he would have torn out his own heart just to brand it. Then he would have sown his flesh tight, beat his chest to the drums of battle and move on. But it was difficult. So difficult.

A scent caught on the breeze and he let out a low growl as an all too familiar presence came to a stop next to him in the fading twilight.

“What do you want?” His barely contained despair spilled out, lacing his words with anger but he did not care.

“What do I want?” That preening voice had the gaw to sound offended. With a snap of his head he looked and saw Of Lapis Wings giving him a bestial smile. It was enough to send his blood into a rage and he burst forth at her. No words were exchanged as he took a swipe at her with his claws, only for her to dodge and strike him in his abdomen, a gleeful smile plastered on her face. He bit through the explosive pain and took another swing but she was faster and managed to trip him up.

His body hit the earth and she was already on top of him. Her gleaming blue eyes ripe with triumph. She struck him across his face, once, twice, thrice and he tasted blood, before others were grabbing her off of him. She flared her massive gray wings in response, dipped with the sky’s color and his packmates backed off.

She leered over him now, her muddy furs billowing in the winds. With a free hand she touched her chest, right over her heart. Her voice grated on his ears as she spoke, “Now is that anyway to greet someone who wishes to offer her condolences?”

He sputtered, turning his head to the side and spitting out a glob of blood. His snout ached and he flexed his jaw before saying, “You don’t care. Don’t pretend like you do. Now what do you want, mutt?”

The smile faded from her lips and her ears pressed down flat to her head. It was her turn to growl now, his words finding their mark. She flashed sharp teeth, her pupils dilating as her nose flared. If there was one thing Lapis hated, it was being reminded of the pale skin that marked her as different. The unblooded nature of her birth. The disgrace it brought her family. Her only saving grace was that she could fly.

“Shall I teach you another lesson?” She asked in a low voice, “Maybe if I had your mate and pup would still be alive?”

He felt his own eyes widen and she saw it. When you played the game, you had to be good and he was not. “Do not speak of them!” he yelled, getting to his feet.

Lapis’s expression turned back into one of glee as she took a step back. She thought she had won. “Ohhhh, is that a bit of a sore spot, Umbar?” She said in her sweetest mocking tone. She had won a battle but he wouldn’t let her have victory.

He took a step forward but Dusk Trekker and Howling at the Stars laid hands on his chest. He looked at them both and found Dusk shaking his head, yellow eyes full of mourning.

“You aren’t the only one who lost loved ones today.” Lapis spat. “Or did you forget this is a pack and you aren’t a loner. Yet.” A smirk formed on her lips.

He snapped back, “You were supposed to give us warning! You were supposed to keep this from happening! What good are wings if the person they are attached to doesn’t care about anyone but herself!” Dusk and Howling winced at his words but said nothing. Umbar felt his blood boiling in return and more so when Lapis put her hands on her hips and inclined her head.

“How convenient of you to put the blame on me. Maybe you forgot, Umbar, but I was fighting down there because you rushed ahead! You broke our ranks in pursuit of glory! So when Mountain Winds gave the command, I filled your hole with my own body. Maybe if you hadn’t left, the demons wouldn’t have snuck up and sacked the village!” She fumed, shaking with anger. She ran a hand through her raven black hair. Flakes of dried blood breaking off as she shook her hand free.

“He wants to see you,” she hissed, “but I’ll spare you the trip. You’re banished Umbar Climber. For your disobedience. Be happy it isn’t death. Or maybe you’d prefer that?” She produced a pale white dagger and he stared at it in disbelief.

“You wouldn’t dare.” he gasped. “I can’t be banished by you. You’re just some mutt with a vendetta!”

“Am I?” She asked. The question but a soft whisper on the wind. A moment of silence passed, he tried to wrench himself free but he was grasped firmly.

He looked at the two, his brothers, eyes pleading. “Come on…” he began, “Surely you don’t think I am to blame?”

When Dusk looked away and Howling held his gaze with anger in his eyes, Umbar felt the dread slide into his heart.

He began to shake his head. “No… She’s lying. I was… I was…” The words caught up in his throat. Where had he gone in that fight? The rage and the anger, gods he had been so angry. He left the line, chased down and butchered those who fled. Then they surged and he fought and fought and fought. When it was done, he had almost killed Fields of Tallgrass. His knees buckled and he fell onto them. Both Dusk and Howling took a step away from him.

“Now you see.” Lapis cooed. “Now you remember with that brute’s mind of yours. So what will it be?” She walked forward. The bone knife gripped with leisure in her hands. That bone knife whittled from a fallen Wildblood. One she had slain herself.

Lapis crouched in front of him. “Banishment or a warrior’s death? I can give it to you. It’d be easy and quick. Come on… You’ll get to see them again.”

A lone wolf was a dead wolf, that was what he had always been taught. Between the demons and their terrible cousins, chances were slim. A prolonged existence when it could be ended without much fuss. Umbar had always envisioned himself dying to an ax or an arrow. What was the difference when it all ended in death? He had failed the people who thought he cared for them. Least he could do was apologize in the next life. He looked into those cold blue eyes and nodded his head.

A terrible stillness came over them in that moment before action.

Lapis lifted the knife with a slow nod of her own.

And then the darkening world exploded into firelight as some great thing rushed past overhead. A great fireball raged in the heart of the village and the four of them looked with shocked expressions. Then another rush of wingbeats and Umbar looked to the sky. A dark blot sank low, just over the treeline and a great torrent of orange and yellow fire streamed down, bathing the world in agony. It was the screams that broke him from his trance, screams of those that he still cared for, even if all had given up on him. So Umbar sprang to his feet and ran.

It was Lapis that ran beside him a moment later, her face lacking all sort of mocking glee from before. It was her village too, despite all it had put her through. Dusk and Howling followed, unsheathing their weapons. It was their sworn duty, as warriors, to protect their hearth and home. Death was but a simple asking price in exchange for the next generation. A generation he would have no stake in anymore.

The great beast above, buffeted the flames, creating a whirlwind of fire as they approached. All were scattering from the burning village, from the terror in the skies. Women and pups, running past them now.

Lapis barked, “Dusk, take Howling and make sure they reach safety! Get everyone you can out, don’t let them panic into the wilds!”

The two reared off without a word and Umbar glanced at Lapis, her expression wholly dark as her wings tucked in close to her body. She couldn’t fly, he realized, not with that thing up there.

“Is it a demon?” she asked, as they entered the chaos of the village.

He shook his head, “I’ve never seen one breath fire.” Screams of the burned and dying wrang out despite the inferno sweeping the village. He cursed as they entered the square proper. A stoat band of fighters with bows had taken up behind a short wall, firing arrows up into the darkness. Whoever had told them to group up like that was a fool and Umbar paused in his step and waved his hands in the air.

But it was too late. Another bright burst lit up directly at that wall and the explosion of heat rippled over him. Umbar coughed and he growled. Lapis had run ahead, to the burning lodge that marked the chieftains home. She would walk her own path. He would…

A large mass descended in the smoke and fire before him and his first thought had been that he was weaponless, save for a knife. The next was the same sort of dread he had felt when witnessing the demons for the first time. How wholly unnatural such creatures were. His mind, he had to master the fear. He would do so now but this thing… a creature of the underworld. Black scaled and towering above collapsing rooftops, he saw two scarlet eyes looking down at him. Umbar tensed and then the thing unfurled its massive wings. Ten times the size of Lapis’ own and that it opened his mouth and he saw the furnace within. Umbar ran.

Not backwards but towards it. The monster had to backstep as it unleashed a fire that singed the back of his clothes as he dove forward and underneath it. He plucked out his knife and slammed it down into the creature's foot and Umbar watched as the knife glanced off. The next thing he knew he was flying, flying straight into a burning building. The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was the monster and then he heard a very loud smack.

“C’mon! C’mon! I can see the light! We can make it.” Amelia nagged at her parents.

“And how would we move through the dark nights?” Her mother, Assulie, asked. “No, we make camp here while we still have some sun left.”

“But mom!” Amelai protested.

Which was quickly stopped by her father: “Just a bit further dear. The light guides.” Assulie looked at him while Amelia hugged him tightly. She had always been a daddy’s girl. Justly, as her father would do anything for her. “Just a bit further. We can camp with your sisters then.” He continued.

“Fine, but if I trip over a branch you’re carrying me!” Assulie quipped. All three of them let out of a snicker but both Kiros and Assulie picked up their heavy backpacks again. They kept walking as the shadows grew longer. “How much time do you think has passed?”

“It felt like a few months at most. But you’ve heard Theneros. Time can be weird.” It was a weird reality to acknowledge. Assulie could be older than her oldest sibling right now. Amelia could be the eldest of her cousins. By Allianthé, she hoped there would be cousins. She rubbed her own belly. Kiros didn’t know. Not yet. She’d tell him in time. Amelia gave her mother a sidewise look. The girl had such an affinity for life. The way she talked with animals despite not understanding each other, she truly must have a gift.

Amelia knew her mother was carrying her brother already but was a wise enough woman already to know not to tell her father just yet.

In a comfortable silence all three of them made their way through the thick forests. Some places felt familiar to the small family. It allowed them to move in almost the pitch blackness. Though the lights of the growing city could be seen in the distance. “We’re almost there.” Kiros said.

Something rustled in the bushes. An animal probably, but something primal in everyone made them stop to look at the source. In the dark they couldn’t see anything. “Just something foraging.” Amelia said.

“You’re probably right.” Said Assulie. “Kiros, let’s keep going. I want to see my sisters like you promised.” Kiros didn’t respond. “Kiros?” Assulie asked again. “This isn’t funny! You know-” She stopped and looked at the faint shimmer of Amelia she could still see. It was unwise to admit such fear in front of someone as impressionable as her still. “Haha, Kiros. You got me. Now please come out.” He still didn’t respond. “Kiros!”

Something wet flopped down with a hard thud. The two women turned. Something hot splattered over Amelia. She touched it with her fingers and looked close. “M-Mom… this is… blood.” Their hearts sunk.

“Run!”

Amelia did as her mother told her. She started running. Assulie was right behind her. She felt the roots beneath her moving. Not so much against her though. It was as if the forest was trying to guide her in very small ways. Chipmunks chittered in the forest.

Then eyes appeared. First a pair of glowing red ones. Then a few more circular, chittery eyes joined. Then a few more. Eleven total stared her down. She stopped moving. Assulie bumped into her. Sending both of them tumbling to the ground.

They got up again. Spindly legs moved in the shadows. “Keep running!” Assulie yelled as she got up and helped Amelia up after. She tore her daughters backpack off of her and threw it at the beast. It let out a staggering cry before ripping the bag appart. Food and small trinkets clattered to the floor but both of the women bought a moment.

It wasn’t enough. The outer beast came rushing after them. With one needle-like leg it pushed aside Assulie. The woman was thrown against a tree. Amelia tripped, fell, turned over and looked into eleven, chaotically throw about eyes. “No, please. Allianthé please.” She begged. It seemed as if the beast cherished the begging. It reared up two of its spindly legs. Amelia saw her very short life flash before her eyes. Them discovering a waterfall. That one night on the beach.

“No!”

Again Amelia felt something hot hit her. She opened her eyes and saw her mother’s face. Smiling at her. “You’re alright, honey.” Her words were strained, as if she could barely get them out. “You’ll be alright now.” Then she collapsed and Amelia felt something pierce her arm. She screamed out in pain. The eleven eyes in the dark appeared over her again. She couldn’t move. Her mother’s corpse and the spindly leg it pierced her arm with were pinning her to the ground.

I’ll see you again soon, mom. Amelia thought as she closed her eyes again.

Death didn’t feel like much of a transition. Or so Amelia thought. She was still breathing. Did dead people breathe? She still felt warm. Dead things definitly don’t feel warm. Carefully she opened one eye. In the dark it was hard to see. The eleven eyes weren’t gone, just… pushed aside. Then something pulled out the leg from her arm and through her mother’s dead body. Amelia let out a starteld scream of pain.

“You’re alright.” A voice said. “You’re alright.”

The weight pinning her down vanished. Then she looked at an elf. He had white hair and there was something wrong with his face. It was as if the skin was pulled too tightly over his skull.

“I’m Aenos.” The white-haired elf said.

---

“She’s the only survivor?” Irrithae asked. They were standing in a tree-home, a hollow tree that offered protection from the elements. Irrithae had grown this one herself, right after that dreadful day.

“I’m afraid so. Outer Beasts are still everywhere. We’re doing our best but-” Aenos broke off his own sentence as he looked at a still dazed looking Amelia, who sat huddled in a blanket before a small fire.

“You can’t be everywhere.” Irrithae finished his sentence. “I understand. We understand. Arbor is grateful for you and yours work.” Her eyes turned towards Amelia as well now. “What do you think?”

“She’s not fit for the Deathguard. It’s why I brought her to you. She still has a spark. I’m sure you can nurture it.” Aenos turned and grabbed his divine, cold spear next to the flap that led outside. “I’ll see you later.” Then he left.

Irrithae moved towards the elven girl and knelt down beside her. “Do you remember why you and your parents were coming?”

Amelia had to think really deeply. She remembered talk about aunts and cousins, but she was far too young to remember them. She just shook her head. “S-Sorry.”

“No, no it’s okay. You’ve gone through something terrible. It’s okay. Here, drink this.” Irrithae offered Amelia a wooden cup filled with tea. “It’ll help you sleep.”

The elven girl nodded and lifted the cup to her lips but stopped before she could take a sip. “There is something.” But it was selfish. How could she think of that now!? A tear fell from her eye. “Sorry. No, sorry. It’s nothing.”

“You can tell me everything you want, Amelia.” Irrithae assured her as she sat down next to her with her own cup of tea. “You can tell me about the chipmunk you saw in a tree or about the most beautiful night you’ve seen in your whole life. I’ll listen.”

“I heard… rumours about a lake or something… near the big Tree… that gives you magic powers.” Amelia said as she gently sipped the tea but kept her eyes on the fire. “Magic… sounds so… magical.” She couldn’t think of the right word, but that hope that she might one day have it kept her going.

Irrithae fell silent. “The Wellspring.” She said, her tone betrayed her heavy heart. “It does give magic to those who bathe in it but-”

“I want to bathe in it.” Equal part determination and desperation made Amelia say it.

“There are risks to it though.” Irrithae explained. “If you go into it… you may not come out of it again. You might die. And even if you come out, your life will be different. Magic gives but it also takes.” There was a reason why Irrithae had ordered that all those who wished to bathe in it should first come to her. She didn’t outright forbid it, but it was important people realized the risks.

“I still want to do it! I’ll whatever it takes.” Amelia’s flame from before was flickering again. Like it was in danger of being extinguished. It broke Irrithae’s heart.

“Very well. If in three days you still feel so confident, you can bathe in the Wellspring.” That was Irrithae’s rule. Three days of consideration.

---

Those three days moved at a snail’s pace for Amelia. There were other things that she did, other than crying for most of the days. The names of her parents were etched into a monolith. Soon enough Amelia’s family would see those names and come to Arbor’s defacto ruler.

But they didn’t come before that fateful night. Amelia woke Irrithae in the middle of the night. “It’s time!” The elven girl said, filled with excitement despite the tear streaks still visible on her cheeks. “Three days! I waited like you asked. Now please, can I get my magic?”

“Now?” A half asleep Irrithae asked. But she only had to see the elven girl’s eyes once to realize that Amelia was jumping into the Wellspring. With or without Irrithae. “Very well then.” She said with a drowsy chuckle.

In the middle of the night they moved through ever growing Arbor. With the advent of Greensinging many people were growing their homes at a rapid pace. A new sort of forest was growing around the Tree of Life now. While glowbug swarms were offering illumination throughout the larger streets.

They reached the Wellspring, and the still sealed Tree of Life in no time. Irrithae still felt a pang of guilt when looking at the door. It hadn’t been too long ago when a crowd had crushed itself there, trying to get out. She wished she had acted faster, to disperse the people so more would’ve survived.

Amelia was blind to her guide’s guilt. The girl was almost jumping in excitement. In the last few days she had told herself that this was her destiny. This is why she survived. So she could cast magic! She hadn’t thought of what to do after just yet.

“Remember. The Wellspring isn’t regular water. This isn’t some test of strength. You need to accept it into you. And once you did, you need to want to come back.” Irrithae explained for the tenth time during Amelia’s short stay.

“Have you gone in?” Asked Amelia. In the dark the Wellspring looked far more foreboding. Like a black inky patch surrounding the tree. With a million shimmering colors just below its surface.

“No. I chose the Font.” It was a kinder fate, Irrithae found. No one drowned or vanished from the Font. “You can still step back Amelia. There’s no shame in it.”

Amelia just shook her head. “I have to do this.” She said with resolution. Though she wasn’t feeling so sure anymore. For some reason she thought the Wellspring would be far more inviting. Still, what else was there. She took a step forward. Her toes were dangling over the mystic waters. Then she took another step. With a small splash she jumped into the Wellspring.

It was deep, serene, beautiful and even warm. It was nothing like the water she was used to. She could feel her blood warming through her body. Had she been cold? The bubbles rose slowly to the surface. The surface. Such a distant place now. Down here she could vanish. Up there… Up there she was the daughtered of murderer parents. Down here she was just Amelia. Up there she would have to deal with a whole life lost and a whole life she had to rebuild. Down here…

No! Irrithae warned of this! Amelia began to kick violently, as if there was something in the water that she could kick back to go up. She didn’t move. She fought harder. There was still something she had to do. She wasn’t done living just yet! She kept kicking. More bubbles floated slowly up. Mocking her own inability to do the same. She started screaming. Water flooded her lungs. The lights turn dark and the water cold. A blackness was encroaching upon here. Maybe this was how it was meant to be. Maybe she was supposed to have died three days ago, and now she’s paying her due to Death. This hurt far less though. The world turned dark. Maybe it was better like this.

Amelia vomited up water like her life depended on it. It flowed from her mouth and nose as her body retched it up. The moment she got enough - not all but enough - water out she took giant, panicky breaths. Where was she!? What happened?

“You’re not dead.” a comforting voice said as someone put a warm hand on her shoulder. Somehow Amelia knew whoever spoke had a gentle, kind smile. But she could look. She was coughing up water and grasping for air at the same time. After what felt like whole hours of recovering, she finally fell back on her back to look up at her savior. Irrithae stood over her.

“You saved me?” Amelia asked.

The Syllianth nodded. “You survived the Wellspring.” Hearing that conjured a smile on Amelia’s face. Which quickly faded when the Guide of Arbor asked her: “So what do you want to do now?”

For the first time in her life she had no clue.

When Reaper returned with his band, hauling an avian beast of rather tremendous size, it was with no small degree of confusion that he and his band of six (and accompanied by the strider, Elutil) surveyed the place. They had left a bustling camp at morn, and now returned to… nothing at all. The six men gathered around Reaper, each wearing deep frowns. No matter in what direction they looked across the empty wastes, they could see no sign of them. “They’ve just…disappeared.” Fishlancer said. Beside him, Netter and Donkeywhacker murmured in agreement, while Galloper stood to the side and fiddled with his rope.
“Not so much as a shadow of them as far as the eye can see.” Horsebreaker confirmed. Claymender was crouched low, looking for any trail or sign hinting at where they may have disappeared to. But there was nothing. “They’re gone.” He said with finality.

Reaper leaned on his spear, jaw tight and brows furrowed. They were gone. Galloper, still fiddling nervously with his rope, glanced at Reaper. “Do you think… the goddess again? Could she have?” He asked. Reaper released a deep breath and shook his head, as mystified as any of them. “I couldn’t tell you Galloper. The way things have been of late…” his gaze swept across the far horizons, “it could have well been anything.” They stood there a long time, confused and at a loss.



The stormclouds had come as if from nowhere. One moment there was the hot barren wastes, scorched beneath Itzala’s baleful gaze as he began to surveil them for another day, and then in the next there was an encroaching wall of darkness upon the horizon. It raced towards the encampment faster than any of the monsters. The horizon faded into blackness in the shadow of the stormfront, and as the clouds neared they grew to blanket more and more of the sky, until they blocked out even rising Itzala.

“Have you ever seen something like that?” one Soilturner stammered, eyes wide open.

The closest thing he got to a retort was a grunt, followed by Goatwrestler the goatherd thrusting one of the bleating goats in his direction to keep hold of. They were not prepared for a rainstorm; the desert hardly offered more than a sparing drizzle, and even those that still remembered Renev clearly could not claim to have ever seen such darkened skies.

Panic and bewilderment animated the camp as the first strong breezes heralded the coming rain. Without the sun, the colors all around were suddenly very bleak and the air quite crisp. The distant booms of thunder rolled across the flat and filled their camp. There was no time to try and find Reaper and the men who had gone out on the morning’s hunt, but then, any idiot would see such a terrible storm brewing! All that there was to do was hunker down to weather it out, and hope that the others did the same wherever they were.

The herd of goats was rounded up and brought inside some of the largest of the tents before they could all flee in a panic, and then everything else of value–few as their possessions were–was brought together and sheltered under the tents, for what little protection they might offer from the deluge and the gales. The people then all huddled together in what little space remained within the tents. Not ten heartbeats after Soilturner crawled in, being the last of those who had been outside, they heard the sound of the oncoming rain striking the ground: this din was like the pounding of so many hooves, like a stampede of animals. And then it was upon them.

Howling winds threw open the tent flaps and hurled rain inside. The raindrops were especially large and came with such force that their strike was painful, almost like little stones striking the skin. The wind was so great that several tents were at once overturned! It was only their having buried some parts and packed others beneath the weight of various goods that spared the leather tents from being lifted and flung beyond the horizon right away. The mighty gales roared, and though the sound of the storm was such that one could hardly hear the shouts of a person right beside him, and though it was as dark as a starless night save for the brief flashes of lightning that illuminated the scene for one of every fifth or sixth breaths, Goatwrestler leapt out of the tent’s flap.

A reaching hand shot out to seize him by the waist and try to drag him back to safety, but the goatherd wrestled free of it; one of his terrified goats had gone out there and he had to bring it back! Already, the once-parched desert sands had become a quagmire. The water came up to his ankles, but then Goatwrestler felt the itch and sting and burn of wet sand on his neck, and his beard was drenched, for the wind had flung him down. The great booming thunder seemed oddly distant, rhythmic, like a heartbeat. Or like the terrible laughter of some callous god, some force of nature…the rain itself seemed to have hands, for it grasped at him as it fell, and pulled him along as it swept across the ground. Now he was rolling through the floodwater and sand, coughing and struggling, reaching out for anything to grip as he was flung about–crack! His head struck something, and the last things that he remembered perceiving were a bright flash of light, the thunder’s murmuring, and the taste of blood in his mouth.

Lifedancer hovered above him when he opened his eyes. “There he is. A nasty bump on the head, but it’ll heal,” she was speaking to somebody. Justroastit was immediately above. “Oh you silly man!” The riverwife said, clearly resisting an impulse to whack him. “My heart nearly gave out when you went prancing out like that!” He groaned and sat up slowly, fighting the dizziness. “Goats…” he muttered. “Oh goats goats goats, is that all you ever think of.” Justroastit snapped at him. He looked at her blankly, and her stern gaze melted into a laugh. “Stupid of me to have asked!” She sat by him and looked at Lifedancer.

The herbalist was gazing away forlornly, her eyes on the verdant earth that lay where not so long before there had been hard rock and sand. “I,” she turned back to Justroastit, “will leave you two to it. If he complains of anything, have him lie back down so he can rest. He’ll be back to his normal self in no time,” she smiled reassuringly at the concerned Justroastit, and left them. The world that now greeted her was a far cry from all she had known over the last however many years.

Goatwrestler groaned. His face lay on its side, his eyes parallel with the green ground. Green. That was a funny color. Like bile, or entrails. He couldn’t think of much else that was green in the wastes. Once upon a time, in a village called Renev, he remembered green hills and trees.

He rubbed his head, tried sitting up, found himself too dazed and collapsed again. There had been rain, of course. He remembered now. Had it made the nigh-lifeless wastes bloom? Was the rain a blessing?

Slower now, he rose against the objections of whoever stood over him, and then he looked the other way and saw the wreckage. Bits and pieces of the torn tents were littered all across the landscape, random goat-prods and tools strewn everywhere, and over there, he thought he saw a dead goat, unmoving even as some of the others stood over it with the butchering hooks and knives… at least that meant a good supper.

But then he squinted again, for in the distance, upon the horizon, he thought he saw a great spiraling mountain, like a stony finger thrust up to point accusingly at the place in the sky where that tempest had erupted so violently and suddenly from! “What is that–” he mumbled to anyone who would listen.

He turned, trying to see who was there. Familiar faces, he saw all around. But then, in another direction, a great verdant wall. “Huh?” he sputtered. He blinked. Surely this was an illusion. The wastes could play tricks on the eyes. But he rubbed them, and still that great and imposing wall of trees was over there, where the green grasslands suddenly gave way to some dense jungle. Clearly bemused, if not outright concerned, by his confusion, Justroastit pushed him back down and would brook no dissent this time. He may have been the unbeatable wrestler of goats that he was, but he stood little chance of victory against his wife. Still, as if to assuage her own astonishment at what had befallen them, she leaned close and whispered, conspiratorially, as though it was a secret, “there are… monkeys here. Monkeys, Wrestler. I’ve not seen monkeys since the harvest of our wedding, when that mad monk visited the village with his monkey troupe for the festivities!” She paused for a few moments, “but they seemed quite odd for monkeys. Something in their eyes, I can’t place it.”

“Wha–?” Her words didn’t make any sense to a still-dazed man, wrestler as he may have been. “Monkeys? Where?”

But then he pushed her aside–he was quite the wrestler!--and struggled to stand up. He made it only halfway before she had him back down again, curse her, and then he heard a most strange sound–something between a squeak and a cry. Craning his neck even as he lay upon his back, he contorted to look backward, and there he beheld a small brook, too small for the whisper of its running water to fill the air, but large enough for a grove of trees to have sprung up beside the water. And in one of those trees, there was a white rhesus macaque pointing a finger right at him! Had it heard his wife’s whispering? It pointed at him though, and was smiling, and squeaking with an enthusiasm that seemed like it could hold nothing but joy. And it clambered down from its tree and began to approach.

Justroastit scrambled behind him and watched the approaching monkey wide-eyed. His wife she may have been, and love him dearly did she, but perhaps not so greatly as to stand between him and some accursed monkey. Observing the monkey with the caution of a famed goat wrestler, he determined (whatever his determination was worth, what did he know of monkey business!) that there appeared to be little - if any - hostile intent in the little beast. Confident that steadiness had returned to his feet, he finally arose, and he took two confident steps forward and looked at the monkey. Justroastit fretted fitfully behind him, and her chatter drew the attention of other clansmen who gathered around to see the monkey.

And the monkey strode ever closer, walking not upon all fours as the monkeys of their memory had been wont to do, but only just its two feet–its paws were clean and immaculate. And once it came just ten paces from Goatwrestler, it sat down in some strange way with its legs crossed and one foot atop the other, and it seemed to gesture for the newly arisen man to get right back down again, and then it patiently and expectantly stared at him. Goatwrestler stared down at the odd monkey for a few long seconds, and then a clansman shouted out, “I think it wants you to sit, Wrestler!” He looked over and saw that it was Treesbane who spoke. “It’s a monkey,” Goatwrestler said, “I’ve no idea what a monkey might want.”

Treesbane shook his head, and around him the other clansman repeated what he had said before. “Go on Wrestler, sit with the monkey.” Puffing, he sat with the monkey and leaned towards it curiously. Perhaps from that very moment he was Goatwrestler no more. His clansmen would know him only as Monkeywhisperer. “Happy, little monkey?” He asked with a quizzically raised brow.

The monkey’s placid look lit up once it saw the strange and clumsy creature imitate his action. Perhaps these beings could be taught after all, the beast might have thought. Or maybe this monkey had already encountered similar beings before and so earned its patience through time, for these Renevits were not the first tribe of men to have found their way into the Indias. But the wise sage Stambh had taught this rhesus macaque guru (or at least, its predecessors) well, for it did not let that air of smug superiority leak out beyond the deepest depths of its mind, and even there it quickly banished such hubris. With a start, the monkey saw that something was wrong: the strange creature, even as it sat, had not fully adopted the correct posture. So the monkey made a deal of crossing and uncrossing its legs until the other one–slow as it was–seemed to understand. And then, the monkey closed its eyes and began to deeply inhale. It paused a long time, and then it exhaled, rhythmically. Over and over, a cycle like the seasons. Monkeywhisperer looked at it, lips pursed, and then glanced back at the others. Most of them were smiling broadly, barely containing their laughter.

“Pah! Well I hope you’re satisfied!” He shouted at them, getting to his feet once more. “Why don’t you sit with the monkey. Well, there you have it. Now I’ve goats to finds and…” he looked around at the little green paradise they were in, “and, well, I guess this is a good development all things considered.” And with that he went off grumbling about stupid monkeys.

And at his rising and turning about, the monkey’s eyes suddenly snapped open and it cried out with great dismay and disappointment–where was its pupil going now?! It clapped–even though such raucous actions and the resulting din was probably beneath it–and gestured back at the place where ‘Monkeywhisperer’ had sat. The display was received with great excitement from the remaining Renevits, who likewise clapped. Some of the gathered children ran up to the monkey and jumped up and down in imitation. Barring one, who approached calmly with a great smile on her face, and placed a hand on the monkey’s head. “Aren’t you pretty,” she intonated melodically, her eyes bright, “and you smell so flowery.” She murmured. Seeing her touching it, the other children quickly gathered around and started patting and grabbing the monkey. “Let me pat its head Rockpetter, let me,” one was now saying, even as others examined its tail or arms or rubbed its back curiously. The same overly bold girl, whom they had called Rockpetter, placed a single finger on its nose, and stared wide-eyed at the monkey. The monkey did not seem overly fond of the gesture, but the child’s joyful ways did appeal to its kind spirit, and so it responded in kind by tapping her nose. Then she caught a better whiff of its scent; there was a strong aroma of sweet and earthy juniper that clung to it, a very clean and pure sort of smell. And its white fur was cleaner even than the girl’s own body!

The rhesus macaque overlooked the filthiness of her body and gestured for her to sit. She excitedly shooed the other children, still trying to grab or pat the monkey, away and very readily sat in front of it. Unlike Monkeywhisperer before, she appeared to have no qualms whatsoever about being seen to be up to monkey business. The other children formed a quick circle around the duo and observed them - not quietly by any means, for now they shouted for Rockpetter to touch its mouth or open its hand or rub its belly or to pull its long wispy beard. She ignored them for the most part (though she did stroke its beard curiously) and focused on sitting as much like the monkey as she could. It seemed greatly pleased by her efforts, amicably tolerating her grasping at its beard, and eventually closed its eyes (though one might have been just a crack open, for nervousness of being surrounded by so many of the strange creatures) and then began to repeat its strange breathing exercise, much as it had done for Monkeywhisperer, only this time it found a much more ready, willing, and curious pupil. When she emulated him, even one such as she began to find a sort of peace. This meditation was made harder by the din of the children all around, but already that seemed to be an increasingly distant thing.

It was not until the monkey itself tapped her shoulder that Rockpetter startled from that trance and opened her eyes again, surprised. Now it gestured for her to follow it toward those trees by the brook, where it had been perched in observance of their tribe not so long ago. As she moved to follow, one of the other children, a slightly older boy, grabbed her by the hand. “Don’t go off on your own Rockpetter!” She looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, “but why, Sandskipper? Look, the monkey wants us to follow.” She insisted. “Yeah, but we don’t know what’s going on exactly so it’s best to sit tight and not do anything reckless.” He told her firmly. She patted him reassuringly and smiled. “Don’t worry about me! And anyway you can all come too.” And slipping from his grasp, she made quickly after the monkey and was followed by a small troop of children, against Sandskipper’s protestations. Seeing that his reprimands and commands were doing no good, he at last relented and followed them with a staff in hand.

Bundled together in the shade of the tree, the monkey had stowed away a small heap of juniper berries and various flowers. He seized it up now and showed it to them, letting the children look at the amalgamation and smell the pungent, woody aroma. And then he took a small bit of it and laid it upon one rock, and then he grabbed another rock and used it to begin mashing the mess into a pulp. Seeing this, Rockpetter grabbed a nearby rock and joined the monkey in smashing. The two rocks fell into a steady rhythm and harmony, descending one after the other, and Rockpetter shook her head from side to side alongside the monotone drumming, humming melodiously as she did. About them the remaining children stood, rocks in hand and watching carefully. Behind them all was Sandskipper with his staff, staring suspiciously at the monkey and keeping a careful watch all around.

Soon the product of their rock-smashing was an ointment of sorts that smelled very much like that herbal odor clinging to the monkey. The rhesus macaque laid down its rock, then rolled a finger through the paste and sniffed. Then, satisfied, it plodded to the brook and started washing itself, occasionally rubbing the ointment into its fur. Intrigued, the children all gathered more closely around the paste and, not waiting for Rockpetter to cease rolling her hands in it, got to wipe it onto one another’s faces and hair and noses. They yelped and cried and wrestled around the rock, those with paste on their fingers chasing those without. Only Rockpetter, who remained absent-mindedly preoccupied with what residues of the paste remained on the rock, did not participate in their chaotic play, and Sandskipper who remained upright and watchful. Eventually, Rockpetter wandered on after the monkey and observed it. She picked at her nose inattentively, watching to see if the monkey would do anything new, and then squatted down and stroked its tail.

The monkey stopped its bathing for a moment, staring at her. Rockpetter thought she saw something mischievous in its eyes, but in reality, it was merely frustrated that its (smelly) pupil chose now of all times to cease imitating its actions, and now the macaque was contemplating how best to get through to her. In the end he figured that a good start would be smearing the ointment on her, so he reached out and rubbed a palm, still coated in some of the watered-down ointment, into her clothes.

Seeming to understand what it sought, the girl got to scrubbing the monkey's head roughly with the existent ointment. Satisfied with that, she rubbed at its nose and then - with equal parts fear and curiosity - stuck both her hands into the monkeys mouth and made a poor attempt at scrubbing its teeth and tongue with the ointment, though she got no further than smearing her unfortunate companion’s mouth with the stuff. It frowned and snorted, wiping the stuff off its own face to then petulantly smear it onto hers. She shrank back, face scrunched up, and then wiped what she could away with her sleeves. “Bad monkey!” She declared, grabbing at its cheek, thinking she’d pinch it and yank the mean creature to and fro–but when her hand darted out, the monkey’s face twisted to the side. Again. Again. Again! It evaded her grasping hands each time, backing a bit further into the brook’s water as she stepped after it, again and again, until the water was about up to her knees. Then with one final lunge that missed, Rockpetter fell forward and was soaked, much to the monkey’s delight. The monkey, ever helpful, moved forward to help her scrub through those clothes while she bathed.

Frowning sullenly, the girl accepted the monkey’s scrubbing and got to lazily flicking water. At first she just generally flicked. Then the water happened to splatter the monkey’s arm. Then she curiously flicked at his torso, watching the droplets land against its hairy body and join the flow of other droplets back down into the brook. Then she flicked a little harder so that the droplets did not land on its chest, but rather sprayed its nose and face, and landed on its brows and flowed down the corners of its eyes.

By now, most of the other children were tramping about in the brook too, giggling and calling out and splashing one another. Their earlier game of smearing the mashed juniper and herbs all over one another made their play almost as good as an actual bath, even if they didn’t scrub! Sandskipper, still sour, had his patience worn to wit’s end and finally started yelling harshly and demanding they all get out and dry off. Most obeyed the younger boy, though Rockpetter wanted to stay with the monkey. Eventually, however, the white-furred creature seemed to grow tired of having water flicked at its eyes, and so he flashed her one last amicable grin before clambering out of the water and into some tree. Rockpetter was quick to follow, dragging herself out of the break and making after the monkey, but a firm hand caught her by the wrist and pulled her resolutely - though not ungently - away. “Come on, you’ve done enough monkey business for today,” Sandskipper grumbled.

Throwing her head back, she glanced into the trees until she caught sight of her newfound friend. “Bye-bye!” She called out to that sagacious monkey, who watched from a perch atop a tree. It might have waved at her in response. It was hard to tell if it was doing that or just flicking drops of water down at her eyes.

The demons had left just as soon as they arrived, it would take the Suneater and his cohorts some time to learn of the grand assault by the infernal monsters upon the city of Sylann. The city had survived, which was good, their workshops were essential for the Suneater’s plans, and sure enough once the demons had retreated, trade had returned. The rivers of the Four Daughters had returned to life with the great beetle boats that darted between the docks along it, bringing goods and materials throughout. With the threat gone, the Suneater returned to the most boring of tasks, logistics.

After the feast of their victory, the Snouters of the Rock Tooth Clan had sworn fealty to the Suneater, the southern lands transformed into their dominion to expand the farms that would feed the growing empire. The farms of Snouters were only emboldened by more refugees from the west, and the works of Anu to enhance their crops. With the food situation resolving itself, he turned to other matters, hiring several goblin blacksmiths from Sylann and assigning them to work with the Strider Namtar so that they could produce the tools and weapons they needed. Meanwhile, Konne and the Strider Marduk would set out expanding the army, more refugees pouring in meant more people to defend and more towns to establish. While the 300 Gloinks would expand themselves, it would not be enough, so formal recruitment and training had to be established.

All the while, the Suneater himself set about a grand plan, by now the village he had called home had grown tenfold, its population booming from trade and refugees that hadn’t been picked up by Sylann. The growth had been haphazard and shoddy while he was attending to other matters, but now it was time to fix that. He had gathered the best builders he could find in his domain and assigned them to design him a capital fit for a King, grand walls of stone and wood, a central marketplace, a temple for the gods, a greater dockyard, and especially a palace fitting for a King.

The work would take time, but now, with some level of peace, it was time they would have.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a few cycles by now, and the work was coming along nicely. The walls were the first to be built, just in case another horde suddenly appeared. And now builders and workers went about the growing town, mingling with the townsfolk as they improved the paths and reframed the buildings. Some had gripped and grumbled about the intrusion, but all of them had relented at the idea of a far more manageable home.

Tyryk himself stood nearby upon one of the many hills nearby the town. It was just big enough to give him a vantage point to overlook the construction and the town as a whole. Nearby stood his most trusted advisors, Konne and Polassar, the Strider had been instrumental in organizing the work with their skills of communication, and Konne had long proven herself a capable fighter and confidant. The three of them stood, silently taking note of what was going on.

“How much longer until the stone arrives from the mines?” He suddenly asked, not looking away from the town.

Polassar looked into the bag that was slung at their side, pulling out a parchment scroll that they opened up. “According to the report it should be here in a few days.”

“Good, and the shipments from the Rock Tooths?”

“Should be here in the morning,” They didn’t even need to check a scroll for that one. “Chief Znorick has also reported success with meeting with the new clans that have arrived. So long as they can continue their fighting games.”

The warlord nodded along. “Of course, ask one of the architects to throw up some designs for a fighting arena for the Snouters. That will be our next big project.”

“Yes Lord Suneater.”

A chuckle came from Konne. “Sounds like a perfect place for training.”

“If you wish to face that lot in hand to hand combat, be my guest.” Polassar added. “Fighting for fun? Who does that?”

“Me of course.” Konne scoffed.

The strider merely sighed while shaking their head, returning their focus to the construction ahead of them. The other two quickly joined back into the silence as well, allowing their thoughts to return to the tasks at hand. That was, until the sudden arrival of a familiar Gloink, clad in their familiar layers of pink and green bone armor.

“What news do you bring Berry?” Tyryk asked.

“New arrivals from west!” The Gloink pointed down one of the trodden roads that lead out of the town. There Tyryk could see an arriving caravan, though he could not yet see who was in it.

“Very well, Polassar, continue your work, Konne and I will go meet the newcomers. Lead the way Berry.”

The Gloink eagerly turned around, leading the warlord away from the hill, and towards the new arrivals.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The carriage rolled along the paved stone paths. The wooden wheels on the right side of the carriage rolled over a particularly large pebble, and the whole thing rocked.

“Oomph!” grunted Shah as she bounced inside of the rough carriage. Her two large feline ears folded backward as she grabbed onto the nearest heavy thing she could find for dear life.

A small, slender hand came to rest on top of Shah’s head right between the two fluffy triangles that were her ears, making her perk up right away. She chuckled and squirmed, eliciting a smooth laugh from the larger person next to her. “Mom, that feels weird.”

“Huhm…” Shah’s mom scrunched her nose up for a sec, but ultimately ignored Shah’s complaint and actually started to scratch one of her ears.

Shah’s body reacted on its own. In a split second, a paralyzing chill ran down her spine and froze her tail in place, and then she practically headbutted her mom’s side. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her mom and let herself pretty much melt into the petting. “Shah hates this…” Shah whispered.

“Huhm. Really?” Her mom asked. If Shah hadn’t melted into a puddle, she might’ve noticed the smug smile on her mother’s face. “You should be more honest, Shah.”

Minutes later, the carriage came to a stop and Shah managed to regain control of her body when her mom withdrew her hands from her head and patted her back instead, which prompted her to flutter open her eyes.

“WOMAN!” The flaps of cloth covering the back of the carriage were pulled open by a large man. He, like both Shah and her mom, had feline ears on the top of his head and an abundance of hair. His black mass of hair was done into a massive braid which looked so heavy that it could probably be used to drag a river bug to land without a single strand breaking. “SO YOU STEAL KAH’S DAUGHTER’S ATTENTION WHILE KAH WORKS HIS ASS OFF TO GET US TO THE SUNHOUSE?!” The man, Shah’s father, huffed and jumped up onto the back of the carriage, nearly breaking the entire thing with his weight, and rushed over to tackle Shah and drag her into a bear hug.

“Aaah Shah, Shah! Kah’s fluffy little thingy!” He was ecstatic, Shah knew that because she could hear his heartbeat going crazy. All she could do however was try to survive her dad’s arms as he seemingly tried to squeeze the life out of her. “She’s the goddess of cuteness, ain’t she Imara? Our little Shah is the best Shah!” He gloated, rubbing his face all over the top of Shah’s head.

“Huhm… Kah,my love, Shah’s hair has to be perfect…” Imara, Shah’s mom, said in a perfectly calm tone. She was now standing next to the other two and slowly reaching for one of Shah’s ears again, only for her plan to be thwarted when Kah let go of Shah and the teenager hid behind him.

“Ahh, that was great. Kah feels like he’s come back to life! But sadly, we must carry out our duties now. Kha’s sorry, little Shah.” Kah sighed and with that, Shah knew that playtime was over. Immediately, she meekly made her way to her mom and let her start to fix her hair and smooth out the wrinkles in her ornate ceremonial dress. It was a beautiful dress, mainly red but with white and green accents and plenty of tassels. Over her dress she wore an equally ornate poncho, this one made out of the multicolored fur of a beast that her father had slain just a couple months prior.

It all suited her well and her tan skin, golden eyes and extremely thick and long hair only made her look better.

“Duties…. So…” Shah began but trailed off. She grabbed and pulled at the edges of her furry poncho.

Her mom kissed the top of her forehead. She had to stand on her tiptoes to do so. “Huhm… We will always be with you, Shah. Know this, we love you. Nothing will change this.” With a final check, her mom grabbed Shah’s shoulders and turned her around to face her dad. He was like a wall of muscle, and that massive, rough, scarred wall of muscle was sniffling and barely holding back a river of tears.

He opened his mouth to try to speak, but thought twice and simply rubbed his eyes and nose dry and nodded. Shah nodded back at him and the father went to the back of the carriage and jumped off. He held the flaps of cloth open with one hand and offered Shah the other, which she took. With his help, jumping off the carriage almost felt like she was flying.

She flinched a bit as her bare feet touched the scalding hot paved stone road and watched as her dad pulled out a small wooden box out of the carriage and handed it to her.

With that he took a deep breath and so did Shah, and they walked out from behind the carriage to meet the people they had traveled for weeks to reach.

To Shah, who had been born and raised in a secluded village, just the existence of stone roads had been amazing. But the buildings that surrounded her? The dozens of people that stood on the sidelines, watching her every move and whispering amongst themselves? It was overwhelming. Before she could tear up, her dad poked her side and smiled at her.

Out of the crowd that had assembled emerged several people. Every single one looked different to the last, and every single one was either so scarred that they dwarfed her father’s battle scars, or so powerful that their mere presence silenced the whispers of the crowd. The latter were two, a bird-kin woman and a Hyena-kin man, though his long reptile tail and scattered scales showed his mixed blood. Shah’s dad knelt down as soon as he saw the man, dressed in a long cloak of green that covered the shining armor and multicolored cloth along the rest of his body, and looking at them like they were prey to be eaten. Shah didn’t need to kneel, as her height standing tall was the same as her dad’s when he knelt down.

“Suneater!” Shah’s father began. “We of the Plainstalker clan bring you a gift. Our most precious treasures are yours to take, as long as you promise to share your prosperity with us of the Plains.”

That was her cue, Shah thought. She took a surprisingly steady step forward and stretched her arms forward, offering the small wooden box to the Suneater.

The Warlord stood where he was, his gaze changing to a more curious look. It had not been the first he had been offered tribute, but this was certainly the most extravagant. But regardless it was always nice for new subjects to come to him then the reverse.

“I welcome the Plainstalker Clan and the gifts you bring.” He extended one arm from beneath the cloak, gently taking the wooden box from Shah. “If you would permit, I would like to hear of what you have brought me so I may fully understand these gifts from the plains.”

Besides him, Konne kept a close eye on the clan, her eyes locked especially upon Shah and the box she had been carrying. Her hand placed firmly on the blade at her side, readied just in case anything were to go wrong.

Shah cast a glance in her father's direction, who once more nodded reassuringly at her. This time she took a shakier step forward and knelt down on both knees in such a way that her poncho hid her entire body except for her head. Once she felt everyone's gazes on her, she wiggled her ears and lowered her head in deference.

“The, first gift is inside of the Ala-Shah, the wooden box in your… Esteemed hands. It is a set of ornaments crafted from the spine wheels of The Great Vida Demon, who was vanquished by my father The Panther. They have mystical properties which may aid you and yours, Suneater the Great.” Shah explained, her eyes closed.

After an awkward second, Shah felt her father poke her and she let out a sound not unlike that of a kitten’s scared meow. “They, are said to give the wearer dominion over terra-beasts and demon-beasts.”

“The Panther? A fitting title for a warrior who slew such a beast.” The warlord flashed a smile at her father as he opened up the box and inspected the items inside. Pulling out one of the four thin bone bracelets within. He could feel the power emanating from within, a fine gift for someone of his status. He placed it gently back within the box, handing it over to one of the warriors behind him for safekeeping. “You say these are the first gifts? They alone would ensure your place amongst my domain, I am curious what else you have brought.” His gaze shifted between Shah and her Father, curious of what would come next.

“The second and greatest gift, Suneater.” Kah gestured at Shah.

“I, am Shahari of the Plainstalkers. I am the second gift.”

Suneater’s eyes went wide with surprise as a murmur began to grow amongst the crowd. The gathered beastfolk were taken aback by the gift being the girl who stood in front of them, though many quickly turned to speak of how enchanting she looked. Someone even stated it would be rude to deny such a gift when they had traveled so far.

Konne, for her part, merely stood by the Suneater’s side, her scowl of suspicion had turned into one of anger. The grip on her blade only intensified, her knuckles turning white with the force she was holding back. Her eyes had not turned to the Suneater, instead, she was entirely focused on the cat folk girl kneeling meekly in front of her.

A sudden cough, mixed with a growl, silenced the murmuring. The Suneater looked around to ensure his message had been made clear to the assembled gathering. His gaze briefly stopped on Konne, who he briefly placated with a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to relax and loosen her grip on her blade. Finally, he returned his gaze towards the cat folk. “To travel this far must have been an extraordinary feat, I would be doing you and your people a disservice if I were to refuse your gifts and send you home without the protection and prosperity you have sought. As such, I will be accepting your gifts, both the bracelets, and,” He nodded his head at Shah, “the beautiful maiden. In exchange, the Plainstalkers will be equal subjects under my reign, their people will be protected and their needs provided for. That is my decree.”

A soft cheer came up through the assembled crowd, more of their kin under the light of the Suneater was always cause for celebration. And many were equally eager to see what wealth and beauty the plains had to give to the rest of the domain. This time the Suneater did not attempt to quiet them down, knowing their eagerness would be unable to settle. Instead he turned to Konne once more.

“Konne, please escort our dear Shahari to where she will be staying for now. I wish to speak with her father, to prepare for the celebrations we will have later tonight. Such new additions must be welcomed of course.” He emphasized the welcomed, softly gripping the half-blood’s shoulder when he did so.

“Yes my lord.” Was her reply, soft, yet still having an edge to her voice. She stepped forward from the crowd, extending a hand out to Shah, which the younger girl took after a moment’s hesitation. “Come, I’ll bring you to the palace grounds.” She led the cat girl away from the crowd, down the town path towards the area where the palace was still being built. The scaffolding and sounds of construction still prevalent, giving a constant sound for the surrounding portions of the growing town.

As they walked, Konne remained silent, letting go of the cat-girl’s hand and just letting her follow behind freely. The half-blood didn’t bother giving her a tour either, just letting her take in the sights and sounds of a town far larger than what she was used to.

After a while of trying her best not to get lost, Shah spoke. “Konne, are you the master’s First Wife?” The catgirl asked with a wiggle of her ears and a scrunch of her nose.

Konne paused suddenly, stopping her march in the middle of the path. Almost letting Shah slam right into her back with the suddenness that she did so. Her feathers raised in a mixture of surprise and anger at the question the cat girl has poised. Slowly she turned her head towards Shah behind her. “No. I am not. I am just. Very protective of him, that is all. You would be wise not to ask that again.” She turned forward again, starting her march back towards the palace again.

“Sorry, Konne.” Shah muttered and rushed to keep up. It was difficult, considering the differences in height between the two. Konne’s fast walk was Shah’s jogging pace. They passed by a particularly tall scaffolding tower, where two men were pulling a bucket full of a strange powder up by using a rope. One of them was leaning dangerously over the railing, trying to steady the rope so the payload wouldn’t swing wildly in the breeze. “... What will happen to me?”

Konne paused for a moment, stopping and making sure the workers did not drop the construction material, before she started walking again. “That is up to Suneater to decide, for now, you’ll likely just stay in the palace. The construction shouldn’t last much longer, so the noise should die down.” She trailed off for a moment, the grip on her blade tightening for a moment. “What were you hoping will happen?”

“I, don’t know… I don’t know the Master like you do, but… Whatever happens, I have to go along with it. I would like to be strong like you, I think. I'm just fast. Shah’s only fast.” Shah sighed. “My dad… Father, he never let me hunt. It was too dangerous, he said.”

“I see.” Konne’s grip loosened, finally letting herself feel something other than anger. “Perhaps…I can convince the Suneater to let you train with us. Marduk would enjoy a new trainee, and it’d be best for you to be able to defend yourself.” Another pause, and another turn of her head towards the cat girl. “Do you know what a Strider is?”

“Huhm, can you describe one? We may have a different name for them in the Plains. Would it be fine if Shah trains with you? Won’t the Master be mad if I taint my skin with scars and bruises?” With Konne’s pause, Shah took the opportunity to finally catch up and ended up standing a mere foot away from her. To Shah this was normal, but after a bit of thought she took a step back and pretended she’d done nothing. Foreigners were weird, she thought. Wasn’t she a foreigner now, though? In her mind, she sighed.

Konne gave a chuckle. “If anything I wouldn’t be surprised if he found you more attractive with scars. Besides, like I said, it’d be best if you’re able to fight on your own.” She looked at Shah as she took a step back, seemingly not caring at the cat being close. “As for the Strider, they’re crystal beings, walk around on a lot of legs, very strange. They’ll blind you in sunlight if you’re not careful.”

“Shah- I, remember stories!” Shah perked up at the description, her tail swishing curiously behind her and ears perking up as far as they could. “My grandma told me of a time when a ‘strider’ visited the Plains and forced my great grandma to tell it all of our history. Very shiny, yes. Does the Master have striders here?”

“He does, six to be exact, they’re all…Rather interesting. I’m sure they will grill you over your culture eventually. I find it's just best to indulge them, easier to convince them to do work for you later.”

Shah stared, horrified, at Konne. “Striders grill cat-kin? Shah doesn’t wanna meet them…”

Konne sighed. “Its, it's a figure of speech Shah. They’re just going to ask you a lot of questions.”

“Oh.” Shah relaxed, scratching her escape plan before she’d even started to think about it. “Okay, Konne.”

A few awkward seconds passed, with the cat and bird staring at each other. Suddenly, Shah’s mom’s face flashed before her eyes, and she tilted her head.

“Does Konne like baths? Shah doesn’t, unless it’s a hot spring.”

Konne looked at Shah with a confused look. “I…I don’t mind a bath.”

“We bathe together then! Shah wants a friend.”

The bird was incredibly taken aback, sputtering a moment before properly replying. “I…I…I suppose if it will help, Suneater will likely prefer it if you are clean for the feast later.”

“Good! Let’s go, Shah will wash Konne and Konne will wash Shah, like we do in the Plains. We are very clean. But, uh, Shah doesn’t know how to wash feathers. Konne will train her on that too.” Shah nodded and rapidly tapped her feet on the paved road until Konne started to walk once more.

She let out a sigh. “Very well then.” She motioned for Shah to follow her once more. Leading her down the path and towards the palace, where they would get prepared for another feast. For it was another day, and another new victory for the Suneater.

---

Within the Tree of Life, all was darkness. A legion of spiders skittered silently about, maintaining the ever expanding webs within. The forms of helpless mortals, long since dead, were trapped in it still, like macabre offerings. At the centre of the giant hall, though none would well be able to see in that tenebrous darkness, were two shapes. One was a large cocoon containing the very embodiment of life, mortally wounded but still clutching the Jade Sphere that had slowed down the great Outer Beast. Below it was the untouched stone within which was enthroned the Khodex above which Sylia’s gifted crown floated.

Tenebrous silence and stillness had reigned in the great hall of the Khodex for long. Yet, it was never the purpose of the Khodex - that enigmatic and little-known purpose in the impossible mind of the world-tome - to rot in darkness away. And though the silence and stillness weighed heavily on that great hall, to the keen ear and sharp eye all was not as it seemed. There was a gentle pulse in the air, a ripple through the living bark of the Tree of Life. Its branches swayed as though billowed by winds, though not a breath swept over Arbor. In the great hall of the stone wherein the Khodex was enthroned, such power and mystery gathered as would strike terror into the hearts of the hundred million outer beasts and gods that sought after the world-tome. It gathered oh so slowly, wisped in the still air about the stone and curled about the webs the spiders had woven. Those unfathomable energies only concentrated around the stone as their tendrils stretched further and further away so that even through the highest branches of the Tree of Life they emanated and drifted and twisted and turned and twirled. Yet who has eyes for those dazzling glamours? What sight could penetrate the veil of the unseen to behold the unknowable colours of the coming god? For it was a god that pulsed through the bark, a god that reverberated through Arbor and the veins of the multitudes who called it their home.

Converging and coagulating about the stone, the energies seemed suddenly a stone about the stone! Full to bursting, there seemed nowhere left for those coalescing arcane powers to go. The Khodex stone within that impossible mass seemed weighed down and ready to crack- but at the last moment, when it seemed an inevitable thing, the force imploded in onto itself and suddenly surged upwards, sweeping the Divinium crown with them. The tendrils of pure magick were whipped back, whirling and twirling all the way, concentrating above the stone until at last they ossified into the form of the Little god of the Little Things. Stood upon the stone of the Khodex that had birthed her, she was crowned upon that world throne.

“Wow,” she whispered. The great hall was alight with her splendour and all about the webs melted away. The spiders, beholding her glory, cried out in adoration. Such was the ardour of their very sudden, very deep, and very great love that their hearts beating hearts could not very long comprehend it and- like the webs before- they burst in on themselves so that hearts and spiders alike melted away and floated into stardust away. This went unnoticed by the newly risen goddess, however, who floated up and, with a flick of her wand and a bursting of her most sweet and symphonious voice, had conjured a great bed, deepest mahogany in colour though it was made not of wood but of the unknowable magicks of the Little god of the Little Things. The resting goddess of life, now without the protection of her cocoon, was gently gathered up and, with loving gentleness, placed onto the bed. A roof came into shape atop the beds four posts, and from it descended curtains that, in later times, would be echoed by damask and silk brocade. Through it all, the voice of the Khodexborn daughter sounded as a most melodious symphony, immediately producing harmonious polyphonies of music and song; and in her song was;

Yet so pleasing the pain is so soft as the dart,
That at once it both wounds me and tickles my heart

Allianthé did not awaken gently. When a million flickering lights vanished she stirred. Yet she was still so weak and her wound had only just begun to heal. She clutched the Jade Orb, unsure if the ravenous horse-like Outer Beast still existed. It was hard to see whomever had slain so many in just one fell moment. The goddess of life felt the aura of impossible beauty. If she gave in, she would yearn for it and then cry out. But life did not always need to be beautiful. “You- what are you?” She asked. An assassin? A messenger? The little goddess, drifting inside emanations within emanations of seraphic beauty, let off a smile of celestial perfection and hushed the other goddess softly. “There now,” she whispered songfully, “you’ve no need for fear, my lovely, you’ll be well in time. I’ve just tucked you safely, into bed, away.” A little silken hand brushed Allianthé’s head, and the other goddess shushed her tenderly and bid her not exert herself. If this had happened before she would have gladly laid down and rested. She still felt so sick and strange.

Despite how she felt, Allianthé did not listen. “I thank you for your kindness but I have a duty to fulfil.” She said as she floated up from the bed. It took a toll on her. The fingers on her right hand were already blackening with death. That loathful necessity. “I must protect life, and you- I think you may have slaughtered a million little lives just now. So I will have my answer.” As Allianthé rose, the Little god drifted around her head, now by this ear and now by that. “Why, whatever could you mean?” She hymned. “Surely you’re mistaken, I would never do such a thing! Is your illness fuddling your mind?” The Little god placed a hand on Allianthé’s head as though to check.

Was it a lie, or delusion? Either way, it made Allianthé apprehensive of this new divine. She carefully moved the Khodexdaugther’s hand away from her forehead. “I am not mistaken.” She said resolutely. A million tiny lives were extinguished. That is not something she would mistakenly feel. “Perhaps you should turn your worry to yourself for a moment?” The goddess of life suggested in earnest. The little becrowned goddess was taken aback. She drifted away from the other goddess, her countenance a veritable monument to pensiveness. “If you say that, and you are certain of it… and it is not some false vision wrought by your illness, then it must be true and I must accept it.” She looked around the great hall, empty now but for them, the bed, and the Khodex in the stone. “And if it is true, for I have no reason to believe you would deceive me, then you must believe me also when I say this: it was not I who did it, and if it was then it was simply a most terrible, egregious mistake - for which I will not hesitate at all to atone in whatever way you judge most just and correct.”

The goddess of life immediately eased up. She lamented the death of so many dear little lives, of course, but there seemed to have been no ill intent to it. “I’m afraid that I must insist that it was you.” Allianthé said. “But life is very fleeting. That was my mistake. I never envisioned an end. Alas, I’ll mourn the death of the million spiders but you don’t need to atone. Instead I’d wish to make a request.” Her mind was already thinking about the grander consequences. It would seem that this little goddess had an aura that could be very harmful, and very dangerous, should she step foot outside. “Beyond this place, beyond this tree, are a lot of living creatures very dear to me. Each of them with thousands of tiny duties they must fulfil for the good of all life. Your presence, it would seem, is just too much for regular mortals. It’s a shame to ask, truly, but I still wish to ask it of you: could you somehow lessen the effect you have on others?”

The Little goddess listened to Allianthé’s words with utmost care, and the revelation that she was lethal to mortals stunned her. Her beauty and splendour? Her countenance of unrelenting kindness and hand of never-ceasing generosity? Had she a heart for such callousness, a hand for such abuse, a mind that could so much as conceive or comprehend of doing such frightful things? “That…” her voice came as a heartrending dirge, “that cannot…” her eyes were wide, wet, though no tears fell but fluttering winged magicks and moaning stardust, “cannot be.” She turned away in a fit of golden dust and a great mirror formed before her. She tearfully studied her features of empyrean loveliness and, deep in her heart, knew that what the other goddess had spoken was true. Her beauty was indeed such that no mortal heart could ever hope to withstand it. The mirror wilted away and the Little goddess turned back to Allianthé. “You… you are correct. It was… it was me.” She drifted downward in a winding droop until she landed on the barken floor and fell to her knees, her large dress rustling and gathering up around her. “Such loveliness… all that I am… denied under the sun… denied to mortal eyes.” Her tears of golden dust and fluttering magicks streamed ever more forcefully and rose up around her face and circumambulated her crowned head.

Allianthé’s heart broke. She flew down and hugged the newly encountered goddess to her - or as much as she could given the little goddess’ tiny size. “It’s alright.” She said, while gently stroking the little goddess’ hair. “I-I’m working hard to make sure mortal eyes can see you completely one day.” Or rather, they wouldn’t be able to die because of it. “Life is just a little… fragile. I’m sure you can go out a little veiled and still be the most beautiful creature here on Galbar.” But the goddess did deeply hope this new divine would be willing to veil herself at least slightly. Visibly comforted, the Little goddess smiled and about her the magicks beamed and were as warmth and sunshine once more - not the cruel sunshine of Itzal, but another sunshine that would have been never known but for that moment and that smile. “Yes, a veil. You’re right, that would be best.” And through the happy sunshine of that smile, some wintry sadness echoed before the Little god of the Little Things drifted from the life goddess’ hands. She raised her wand into the air and brought her magicks - such wondrous magicks and glamours, such whirling lights and delights, such mystical apparitions of joy and just a little fright! - and she spoke a word of power that grew suddenly and diffused the expanse of the hall. She paused suddenly, though, as though remembering something, and turned back towards Allianthé. “Oh and… I’m sorry that life must do that. That it must die, I mean. It’s a terrible thing for me to think of; I can only imagine how it must be for you.” She sighed sadly, her breath emerging the rosy hue of broken hearts. “I do hope, though, despite all the pain it brings, that you are able to forgive those who transgress against you just as easily as you forgave me.” She smiled at Allianthé. “There will be those who do not - cannot, perhaps - apologise. Cannot see the hurt they cause. I wish never to be like that! And I wish, too, and hope, that you also will never be - that you will remain eternally like this: Allianthé of the All-Forgiving Heart.”

It was probably unwillingly - hopefully. But those last words hit Allianthé hard. Already she was compromising. She hid her right hand’s blackened, deadened fingers away. As if this new goddess wouldn’t feel the taint on her essence. Yet Allianthé conjured a smile. “You’re too kind.” With those words she banished her own insecurities. “Oh but forgive me! We have skipped such an important part. My name is Allianthé, goddess of magic. It’s a pleasure to meet you-” She held out her left hand, leaving the space in the room and the conversation open for the little veiled goddess. Cocking her head to the side, the Little god gave Allianthé a bemused look, before a sudden realisation dawned and sparkled vividly in her eyes. “But of course! How would you know me,” she warbled. Breaking the great conjuring and channelling of her magics, she soared towards Allianthé and, twirling once in the air, curtsied most deeply and placed a little hand on one of the goddess’ extended fingers. “Most lovely Allianthé, of vivacious life that - for all the forces of cessation in the world! - spurts forth ever more strongly, undeterred and untired; who has but little time for petty rage and feuds, for in her heart is but the love of life and desire to see it, against all the odds, again and again bloom! I greet you with the greeting of love, drawing as I do from the eternal font of generosity and loving-kindness: never hesitate to call on me, for I will certainly hear all those whom I love and who love me; call simply the name of Roisin Magnolia and I shall be at your side.”

“Well in that case.” Allianthé said with a bright smile. “Roisin Magnolia!” She bellowed for the whole Tree. Roisin Magnolia surged upward with the sound, surprised, but certainly seemed to hover to attention. For a moment, Allianthé allowed the world to return to calmness again. “I do have two requests of you, if either are not too much trouble of course.” She followed up with a much calmer tone. “For one, I made this Tree for a specific purpose: to house the venerable Khodex.” She motioned at its black, stone cocoon. “And to teach mortalkind about us: the Divine.” She then motioned at the alcoves, of which only two were filled. “I’d ask you to place a representation. So when the Tree opens again, all can learn about you. There is also the matter of Arbor. The city outside of the Tree. I ask the divine to grant it a boon. So it may become a splendid city and a representation of unity of all the divine! What do you think, Roisin Magnolia?” With a smile, the Little god of the Little Things responded: “You are granted all you ask, my dearest Allianthé - even where my heart of the most ungenerous sort (and it isn’t!) still would I not have rejected you.”

Without skipping a beat, the Little god of the Little Things danced upwards in swirl of gold and magick, humming a tune and nodding her head to the melody as she merrily flicked her magicks and unfathomable arts into being. With skilful sweeps of her arms and turns of her divine form, delicate whisks and dabs and strokes of her wand - such subtle and swift movements and dazzling manoeuvres that the eye could do little but behold them with awed delight and reverential wonder.

With the adroit poise of a veritable master of her craft, Roisin Magnolia weaved the glamorous powers of her very essence and, weaving it about her like a whirlpool and before her like a waterfall and above her like so many stars and below her like the flow of thundering rivers into the ocean and behind her like the thousand wings of of the wind- she surged forth and, with a fluid swish and a hymn of great power, projected all those energies onto the alcove where they formed into a seven-inch life-sized levitating effigy of the Little god of the Little Things. Her form was adorned in a great flowing dress of pastel blues and whites boasting a large ball gown skirt with swirling swags. Flowing over it all was a sprawling cape of brocaded sheer silk, while her hair was veiled with a wimple of white damask atop of which rested an analogue of Divinium crown. Draping down over her face entire was a veil of white and gold silk brocade that prevented even this mere echo of her splendour from lancing the hearts of onlookers. Her hands came together at her navel, where they were both restively clasped about a representation of her wand. The magics swirled about the effigy, giving it a certain vivacity.

Satisfied, Roisin Magnolia turned and fluttered away, sprinkling golden and blue magicks in her wake until she came to rest upon the Khodex stone. There she once again flicked her wand and brought such magickal arts and mysteries to bear as caused an image of the city of Arbor to manifest itself before her. Sweeping her wand over the city, she poured such magicks into its epicentre that the piled up - bright and golden - about the base of the Great Tree. There, those magicks ossified and the tree rose up. The world about them rumbled and reverberated every so gently. The tree rose until, when it came to a stop, it was firmly rooted atop a knoll of not inconsiderable size. Entryways unknowable but to those who walked the ways of glamour glowed all over the hill, and it hummed with silent magicks and whispered of pathways and winding routes and gifts and delights. With a flick of her wand, the vision of the city dissipated and Roisin Magnolia ascended from her Throne of Stone and neared Allianthé once more. “It is done, loveliest Allianthé. I have enthroned the Great Tree upon a worthy throne. Perhaps the people of this magnificent city will, if their eyes are open to these my glamorous arts, find paths by which to know the heart of this treethrone, whose name is the Siardha. But if they cannot, still let them know that I have graced them to be the custodians of this greatest of sacred places; in honouring it they honour the Little god of the Little Things and I shall with them be pleased so that my magicks drift ever in their favour.” The Little god beamed as the harmonious strain of her voice echoed into silence away.

“This is truly the most lovely of gifts!” Said Allianthé as she felt the glamorous presence beneath her feet now. “You have my thanks, Roisin Magnolia. I do not forget those who are kind and helpful. If there is ever anything I or my creations can do for you, please do not hesitate to call upon me.” For a moment Allianthé felt true joy. It was enough to make her forget her fight and her own illness. Reality soon reminded her, as drops of holy ichor began to fall from her newly opened wound.

The goddess of life floated up again. “Apologies.” She said. “It would seem that I’m not yet well. Worry not. I have a mortal prophet just beyond the Tree of Life. She’ll preach your existence to Arbor. I am certain that Arbor will embrace your glamorous arts with the proper reverence.” She softly landed upon the bed that Roisin Magnolia had made for her. Already her mind was drifting into the world at large. “Roisin..” Her corporeal body was slowing. “A finally.. warning.” Her words became labours. “There are.. monsters.. In the South. Beasts that.. Kill and slaughter. You and yours; be safe.”

Allianthé did not pass out. Instead most of her essence and presence of mind slipped from her wounded, corporeal form into life and the living all around. With concern, the Little god swept her wand so that the form of the life goddess was laid onto the bed and her form covered. She observed her thoughtfully for a few moments, and then with a flick of her wand the curtains of the great bed descended so that the recovering goddess of life could rest in warmth and darkness. Returning to the Throne of Stone, she swept her eyes once more across the great hall - which was illuminated by her splendour and magicks - and in her heart there was sadness still that her fate was the veil. For a few moments she seemed despondent, but then a brightness returned to her. “It is not beauty that is offered up so that all may freely fill the hungry gaze - beauty is a pearl hidden, and only the worthy diver may rest his gaze at long last upon it. So dive, dive deep, you who would behold the countenance of the Khodexborndottr who sits upon the Throne of Stone.” And with that happy declaration, she flicked her wand with a hymn of, “open wide and part - so we may depart; mugwort seed and opium poppy, rowan branch and iron holly; thus we launch the heart - through the veil a dart!” and upon her song the Veil parted for her as though welcoming a long-lost lover and friend. With a final glance over her shoulder towards Allianthé, Roisin Magnolia drifted into the Veil. The curtain closed behind her and, with the splendour of the Little god of the Little Things gone, darkness descended once more upon the Khodex and the throne.

• Summary [+]

  Inside the Tree of Life, within the great hall of the Khodex, all is darkness. Spiders have filled the place with webs and Allianthé lies injured in her cocoon. With her glamorous energies pulsing through the tree, Roisin is born. Her splendorous countenance melts the webs away and the spiders - on seeing her - are utterly smitten and filled with adoration. So much so that their hearts cannot handle it and burst, and so they perished and meld into Roisin’s glamour. Allianthé’s awakens and castigates Roisin for killing them, but Roisin professes innocence - but eventually sees her guilt and begs forgiveness. Allianthé relents, but tells her that she should not let mortals see her in all her splendour else they will similarly perish. This saddens Roisin, but she is glad that Allianthé forgave her and agrees to ‘veil’ herself - thus she prepares to leave the material world and retire into the Veil where she will do no harm. Before that though, Allianthé remembers that they had not been introduced. Roisin is confused, as she knows Allianthé, but then realises that Allianthé does not in fact know her. Introductions are made, a friendship is forged, and Roisin tells Allianthé to only call her name if she ever needed her and she will find her there. On cue, Allianthé calls Roisin’s name and asks her to place a statue of herself in an alcove in the Khodex great hall and to also grant Arbor a boon. Roisin, ever-generous, agrees. She casts an effigy of herself into the alcove and then creates a hill beneath the Tree of Life, thus raising it, to act as a ‘throne’ for it. This hill is a holy site named the Siardh (see Of Might & Glamour below). With a final warning from Allianthé about the outer beasts in the south, the life goddess goes to rest in a bed of Roisin’s making and Roisin conjures up a portal, realises that veiling beauty may actual make it of greater value, and retires into the Veil.
• Of Might & Glamour [+]

  Roisin’s opening Might: 10 Might
  
  –4 Might (empowered to 8 Might by Glamour) to Create the Godsbane Artefact known as “the Wand of Roisin Magnolia; the Sceptre of the Faerie High Queen; the Godwand; the Rod of Making and Unmaking; the First Wand; the Gramarye-font”
  

  The Wand of Roisin Magnolia is, without a doubt, the most powerful implement of magick known to exist. With a flick of this wand, magicks of impossible might and power are called to bear and glamorous crafts and arts otherwise unfathomable to even the most magically adept mortals are conjured with little more than a flick. In the hands of the Little god of the Little Things, it is a great beacon and shield against all cruelty, tyranny, betrayal, unkindness, and ungenerosity in the world.

  
  –1 Might (enhanced to 2 Might by Glamour, to account for for unique qualities) to Create the Holy Site “the Siardha; the Treethrone”
  

  The Siardha is a hillock grown beneath the Tree of Life, acting as an effective ‘throne’ for it. The hill has glamour-concealed entryways. These can be found by those adept in the ways of glamour or by anyone who follows a creature of glamour (such as a faerie) as it enters. In some cases, an individual lost on or around the hill may inadvertently find an entryway. Within the hill, it is possible to walk the pathways of the Veil. In this manner, one can enter the Veil, that world of the Little god of the Little Things, and possibly attend her high court or the court of any of the many kings and queens of the faeries. One who comes before the Faerie High Queen is unlikely to depart without some great gift, for she is a byword for generosity. Care should be taken with the lesser kings and queens of the fair folk, for not all as unstintingly generous and pure-hearted as their progenitor.
  Those entering the Siardha may also avoid entering the Veil altogether and instead walk its paths in order to arrive at other locations across Galbar. The most stable of these pathways lead to other holy sites, though it is possible to walk more unstable paths to locations where there are great concentrations of Arcana or other magickal energies. Care should be taken when walking such unstable paths, however, especially those tied to magicks known to bring about great harm even in their idle states.
  The Siardha, being a point of melding between the material world and the immaterial, as well as a point of especially great concentrations of glamour and other magicks, will produce and host many magically-useful minerals, plants, fungi, and other naturally-occurring material. Care should be taken, however, for while Roisin Magnolia is most generous, there are those among her children who are vindictive indeed and do not take kindly to those who take from them without permission.

  
  Roisin’s closing Might: 5 Might

Corpse was lying in his hut, where he slept with Song and Rage, and chewing on a bit of jibaga-root. He liked the jibaga-root, because chewing it helped him think of clever things. He said, “When you cook antelope meat over the fire, it tastes better because it takes in the smoke. But the fire makes smoke from above, and ash from below. Perhaps we should coat the meat in ash so we don’t lose half its taste.”

Song, who was outside by the firepit, took a bit of cooked meat from a jar and rolled it in the ash, then buried it in the embers so it would take in all their taste. She asked, “Here we have some tubers, which we did not cook. Should I coat them in the ash also?”

Corpse chewed on the jibaga-root a little, and answered, “Cover them in ash and lay them with the meat, but set some aside, so we might taste both and see which way is better.” Song did so, then she stood up and took a bucket carved from the rough-bark tree, and went to take water from the well she had dug because her throats were parched from her humming.

Now Baboon, who had been hidden behind the hut and listened to what Corpse said, came out and went to the firepit. He thought to himself that if Corpse was right and the food coated in ashes tasted well, he could steal the ash from the Rakshasas’ firepit and coat his own food also, because he did not know how to make fire. So he took out one of the pieces of meat that Song had buried in the pit and tasted it, but it was not to his liking and he spat it out. The tubers he liked much more, and he ate several; but he left some in place, so Song would not miss them and know that they had been stolen.

Then he went to hide behind the hut again, because he knew that Song would be coming back soon. And it was not long before she did, and having drank her fill she sat by the firepit.

Hearing her there, Corpse spoke again, and having chewed on the jibaga-root he said, “The wood of the steppe trees is hard and heavy, and the huts we make with it are hard to build also. But if we take the reeds that Rage found by the stream in the jungle, we can easily build a hut with them, because they are soft and pliant. Then if we cover it with dirt and let the reeds dry, it will still be as hard as a hut made of wood.”

Baboon listened and was envious of the things that Corpse said, because he could not think of anything so clever. He went to the jungle, dug up a jibaga-root and tried to chew it, but it tasted earthy and crunched under his teeth, so that nothing came of it. Then Baboon thought that if he couldn’t be clever like Corpse, he would steal the wisdom from him, and smiled to himself.

In the night, when the Rakshasas were sleeping, Baboon crept quietly between their huts, and with a sharp stone he made a hole in the bottom of Song’s bucket. Then he hid again and waited for the dawn.

The sun rose and smirked in the sky, and Rage stomped out towards the jungle. Then Song came out humming, took up the bucket and went off to the well. Corpse lay in the hut and chewed the jibaga-root.

Song came to the well, which was quite far from the huts, and dipped her bucket inside. Because the hole Baboon had made was not very large, the water did not all come out from it straight away, but dripped out little by little. So it was that Song took her bucket and started on the way back to the huts, and did not see how the water spilled out from the bottom until it was empty. Only then she felt that the bucket had become lighter, and looking in saw that there was no water inside.

“Wai! The sun is thirsty today, if it has already drunk all the water!” she said, and went back to the well to fill it again.

Meanwhile Baboon came out from his hiding place and sat by the firepit in a spot where Corpse could not see him from inside the hut. He patted the ground, and hummed like he had heard Song do.

“Are you already back, Song?” Corpse asked, “Why is your voice so rough today?”

“The sun was thirsty and drank much of the water, so my throats are still a little parched,” answered Baboon, and went on humming.

Corpse did not think much more of it, but chewed the jibaga-root, and said, “When we catch something and kill it, we either drink the blood straight away or throw it out if we’re sated. But if we keep the meat under the ash to eat later, we could do it with the blood also. We could gather the fat and mix them, then leave it to dry with herbs.”

“That’s a fine thought,” said Baboon, “What else could we do?”

Corpse chewed some more and said, “If we want a herb of some kind, we have to go and look for it. If we take their seeds and bury them in the ground by your well, they will grow there, and we will always know where to pick them.”

“You think of so many clever things!” exclaimed Baboon, “I sing to myself all day, but I can never come up with something like this.”

“It’s because I chew the jibaga-root,” Corpse answered, “You can try a little of it if your throats are parched from singing.”

“I would like that, but I have so many mouths,” Baboon said, “A little would not be enough for all of them.”

“You can take what you want from the bundle I put under the right-hand corner of my sleeping mat,” said Corpse, “But don’t take it all, it takes so very long to dry it and smoke it over the fire.”

Then Baboon jumped up, and as quick as the wind he ran through the hut and snatched all the jibaga-root from under Corpse’s sleeping mat. He jumped and danced and ran off cackling, and he was so fast that Corpse was still blinking in surprise when Song came back from the well after finding the hole in her bucket.

Since then Baboon has had the jibaga-root, and he keeps it hidden inside a tree. If he is sitting still and chewing, it means he is thinking of something clever and devious.

When Urist Gusilreg and his expedition struck the earth, their objective was simple. There had been a shifting in the stone. As Galbar had shrugged, a new bend had opened somewhere in the cavernous depths where before there had been only a wall of bleak diorite. The first miners to stumble across the void had peered down it and explored a short ways before returning to report that it seemed to go on for a long ways, if not endlessly. And its walls, they were lined with glorious seams of limonite and malachite and pyrite and banded iron! For the glory of clan Gusilreg, the depths had to be thoroughly explored and a new mining outpost established.

So Urist had led a sizable band there at once, to claim that reach for the Gusilreg before any of their rival clans could stake a claim first. More than a hundred they were in his expedition: prospectors, architects, masons, and miners of course, for such were needed in the establishment of any new colony, but there also came some warriors, fungi-planters, brewers, smiths, craftsdwarves, an engraver or two, and even a renowned soap-maker. Many were those who gleamed at the prospect of joining a colony in its founding, when the most glory and land and wealth were to be claimed. And Urist certainly intended to establish a lasting settlement, so he brought along all who had some mettle and a mind to follow him. He would find work for them all, for any colony worth its granite gates would have its own fungi farms, its own still and craft brews, a few dozen smithies, and walls upon walls of engravings to remember its legacy and celebrate its culture…

The expedition leader mulled over all that during the journey; this turned out to be a long and arduous trek, for the ground was uneven and unexplored, their destination not even entirely set in mind, let alone in stone. The going was slow through these unknown tunnels–especially when the rock was newly wrought apart and might still be unstable! But this perseverance rewarded them, for eventually they came upon a mighty seam of iron ores in a defensible corridor, and Urist knew that this was the place where his band would make their fortune. So there the miners struck the earth, and the masons began walling off the passageways and fortifying the tunnels at their backs, the farmers began sowing spores in the dampest cavities, the architects mapped the springs and engineered well-cisterns.

All was well, phenomenally well. After some time and success in these endeavors, Urist sent a party to retrace their steps and return to the Gusilreg capital and report the colony’s great success to the king, to bring maps of the new territory and then request additional waves of settlers and supplies. Urist was in high spirits; he expected that in due time, this colony would be formally incorporated, and he would naturally be declared its baron.

But by then they had dug exploratory tunnels deep into the heart of the iron-vein, trying to explore its twists and gauge the size of their mineral wealth. And where the iron had ended, there was a yellow gleam! GOLD!

Madness followed.

There were no farmers to tend to the mushroom fields, for all of them had set down their tools to clamber into the mine-tunnels and dig for gold. What use were the warriors’ swords when a blade could not dig? They discarded such trinkets and took up battleaxes, anything with enough heft and weight to dig. There was more gold than anybody had ever seen before! The purest of ores, so soft that even a tiny hammer could pry the seams from the stones and cold-beat the unpurified metal into shape! That was good, because of course all the forges were cold as the former smiths became gold miners like everyone else. They were all absurdly rich beyond their wildest imaginations. Urist, more than anybody, was consumed with ideas of grandeur. He wouldn’t have a mere barony. He’d be satisfied with no less than a duchy at the very least… or more seemly, a throne. Yes, which of the clans had a king with more gold than he? They had delved deep, deeper perhaps than any dwarves had gone before, and still this vein of gold seemed endless. This river of wealth would carry him to glory and legend, would win him a kingdom or three–!

Yet then, in that moment he remembered something troubling. He remembered the delegation he’d sent back to the clan. He’d been panting, laboriously toiling to chip at the gold alongside some of his miners, but the heat of the moment instantly turned clammy. In that moment of cold sweat, he wondered what would happen if the other clans heard of this–or even if the Gusilreg would try to take it…the Gusilreg?! He caught himself thinking that way and felt self-disgust and guilt and loathing for a moment–that was his own clan, his own kith and kin and people–how did he already think of them as an other? But then, would they remember him as such when they learned of his great wealth? Had they toiled down in their shafts as he had, breaking their backs for every nugget?

Would these fresh new arrivals expect a share of the gold deposit beneath their feet? Of the wealth they hadn’t helped to find? Had they come to take from his share? King Urist clenched his jaw and ground his teeth at the thought. The power of avarice overcame all other emotions.

He turned to the miner beside him, and shouted loud enough to be heard over the frenzied pickaxe swings, the echoing sound of metal scraping and chipping stone, “Stop! Stop!”

The man grunted, but even in the near total darkness, that gleam of the gold in the wall before him spoke louder than any words. The miner swung his pickaxe again. “STOP!” Urist roared, seizing the dwarf by the shoulder. That shook the gold-sick miner from his craziness. If only his people could pay attention!

“Gather the others,” King Urist told the miner, “We have to go back up and man the mine’s entrance, fortify it further. That’s a defensible position. All the gold in the world will do us no good if others can trap us down here, or come in to steal it!” And at once the miner realized that Urist was right, and made to do as he was ordered.

None of them now lived up above in their first settlement; all had moved deeper into crude, crowded forward camps carved deep into the mines. For sustenance they had only stale and dwindling food rations, and they drank the dirty and metallic water that had flooded a few of the more carelessly dug shafts… it was high time they’d returned upward to resupply anyway, before digging to the next level.

But they had already delved far too deeply. When some glanced back, briefly, from their work to see whether any word had come from the sentinels dispatched to the mine’s entrance, they could no longer recognise the tunnels they had just themselves dug out and trodden. And why would they have? As long as the beckoning shine remained ahead of them, any rock shorn and chopped aside was in the past, and so was the space it had once filled. The vein remained inexhaustible, the earth’s own generosity bared to them; but it wound and twisted in its bed, and the web the dwarves had carved in its pursuit was now as wild and tangled as their beards.

It was then with some surprise that King Urist found the corner of his eye lingering on a particular passageway. Only after some repeated glances did the reason for this become clear: the mouth of that tunnel, gaping in a patch of dusty brown soil rather than rock, was too small to admit the compact frame of a dwarf. This opening had not been dug by one of his party, but it must have predated their delving! What could have been skulking here, deeper than dwarf had ever ventured - and was it a threat to his riches?

All these things were to be answered in the space of a moment. Something poked out from the earthen hole, a long, ugly leering snout crowned with tufts of dirty fur and a pair of maliciously squinting eyes. The creature, some sort of forgotten beast whose name the dwarves didn’t know and whose likeness they’d never before seen, grinned at him with a mouth of huge yellow fangs. Then it snatched a great handful of the chipped golden nuggets that had been piled behind the king, before vanishing back into the tunnel from whence it’d emerged, Urist catching no more than a flash of its burning-red backside as he stared slackjawed in disbelief.

In the next moment, he surged forward toward the narrow crevice, trying to force his body to contort through the gap to give chase, but he could not. With an ear-splitting wail of agony and rage that echoed through the whole of the mines, if not the whole of Galbar’s underbelly, he cried out. Immediately the miners down a half-dozen other passages (for this was a twisting and expansive vein!) hurried to the sound, fearing a cave-in or something minor like that. This was far worse.

Words tumbled from the king’s mouth like a rockslide. “A thief! An intruder! Enemy! Some beast came and it stole from my gold! The kingdom’s gold! From your share! It stole it!”

He needn’t have spoken even half as much; already there was a raucous outroar and his people were ready to take up arms. A pickaxe to the skull was as deadly as any blade! Woe to the thief!

“And it came from there, and went back that way,” King Urist finished, pointing to the narrow passageway. Right away, some of the more eager diggers began to widen the gap with their pickaxes. One dwarf had the lucidity to ask, “What manner of foul beast was this thief?”

King Urist was then suddenly at almost a loss of words–how could he describe the thing? He remembered only its great fanged teeth, mangy fur, and bright-red rear. The very attempt to imagine a whole built of the misshapen flashes he had seen perplexed him, until it found itself resolved as suddenly as it had shown itself.

The dry earth the beast had disappeared into was yielding under the dwarves’ shovels and pickaxes, tempered as they were by the sterner stone, and before they knew it they had gouged a long trail in their pursuit. A wall crumbled ahead of them, and they stumbled into a small circular cavern in the soil. There on the ground, rocking in a shallow pool of murky water, sat the thief: a thing shaped roughly like a dwarf, but hairy, with long grasping limbs and a curling tail, crouching like a gnarly elder. In one of its feet - which were, Urist saw with astonishment, indistinguishable from hands - it clutched the ill-gotten gold, as it chewed on something resembling a fleshy heart, blood-like juice dripping from its maw.

Hearing at last the commotion at its back, the creature spun around, and dropped its meal with a shriek as it saw pursuers it clearly had not expected closing in. It made to bolt for a tunnel, but found the way grimly barred by the crowding miners as they stormed into the chamber.

King Urist squinted at the beast now; it was not quite so monstrous or horrifying as it had seemed when he’d first spotted it, but there was certainly still an unsettling air about the thief, and then it was hard to be afraid of anything when you had it surrounded and trapped. Still, not wanting to be mocked or made a fool of for having been so afraid of a beast his own size, King Urist hefted his pickaxe and advanced, roaring, “I’ll take back that gold myself!”

A murmur came from the back of the chamber, “Think we could eat it?” And then that turned into a chorus of ayes and whispers; day after day of only dried mushrooms and stale jerky had been easy enough to ignore at first–there was gold to be dug, after all–but such pangs could only be set aside for so long before they started to gnaw at even the hardiest dwarf’s mind. “We’re all hungry, the fresh meat would do us good,” another voice behind King Urist agreed.

“Wait, wait!” the beast screeched in a creaky voice, throwing up its hands and dropping both the gold and its grisly meal, “Don’t kill me! I heard you stomping and circling and digging yourselves so far you’ve lost the way. You’ll never know how to get out of these holes, and you’ll starve to death!”

“But we could eat you, thief,” King Urist retorted, echoing the voice of his dwarves.

“I’m all dry and mangy and bony, I don’t taste very good,” the beast babbled, and then grinned as it eyed the thing it had been eating. With a foot it caught it up and tossed it to a hand, then dusted it before tossing it to the king, who caught it with one hand, the other still clutching his pickaxe, and then warily sniffed at the sticky fruit. It smelled ripe and sweet, stronger than any mushroom he had ever seen. “But this! Wouldn’t you like to eat of this?”

King Urist indulged just a nibble, and his eyes widened. Nothing in all of the caverns held such flavor. He took a second, far more greedy bite, then remembered himself and passed it to the dwarves behind him. They each took their modest share, which amounted to little more than a lick apiece, but they were all just as enchanted as him. While it was passed around, Urist found his voice again and boomed, “You mean to say that you have more of these treasures? Where?!”

If he could monopolize control of this wondrous and exotic food, coupled with his already vast mineral wealth, he would truly be the wealthiest dwarven king to have ever lived.

“As many as you can carry after eating till you burst!” the thief cackled, “This way! After me!”

It swept up the gold, scampered with frightful agility between the dumbfounded dwarves and dove into the burrow it had reached for earlier, beckoning them with its tail and the bright crimson beacon beneath it. “Dig here! I’ll mark the way!”, and he dropped a golden nugget at the mouth of the hole.

King Urist was aghast at how the thief had kept the gold, had seemingly thought this some sort of trade, but then what were a few nuggets when he controlled the greatest gold mine in all of Galbar? When this sweet treasure was even rarer in the dwarven realms than gold?

“Very well,” he started, but then caught himself. “Not so fast! What are you, creature? And you must stay close at hand until the bargain is done.”

Occasionally, they used a sort of rope down in the mines to lash tunnel supports together, or to explore down any natural faults and crevices that they came across in their excavations. So the King had only to glance around the room for a short time before he caught the sight of one miner with a length of the stuff coiled about his own waist for safekeeping, like a sort of belt, and he pointed at that one, “Bind this creature lest he escape from us before delivering upon his promises.”

“All right, all right,” the hairy thief loped up and stood still for once as a length of rope was run around its body and fastened, but its eyes watched the hands tying the knot intently. “Now hurry! We’re nearly there!”

King Urist did not ask many questions, for his mind was already racing with wild ideas of what sort of cavern this strange creature and its sweet treasure could have come from, so deep in the bowels of Galbar. With renewed vigor, even without the gleam of that previously omnipresent gold vein, the digging team started to make headway tunneling in the direction that the creature had marked. The king stood close to the thing, so as to keep an eye on it, but its stench was enough to make even the filthy and sweat-stained miner of a king want to keep a small berth.

Soon, however, his mind was taken away from it, for the rhythmic beat of pickaxes, which had been steadily turning upwards, lost its dullness and began to ring louder and more hollow. Then one blow parted the earth, now dark and dense, in a cascade of soil, struck something hard, broke through it and there was light. Urist and the other dwarves stumbled back, squinting and shielding their eyes. The rays streaming through the opening overhead were the brightest thing they had seen in a long time, since those days, now fabulously distant, when they had first set out from the Gusilreg clanhold. In some of them, perhaps, beneath the ever-consuming thirst for riches that had come to cover their minds, there stirred a remembrance of home.

Yet as soon as they stumblingly emerged from the hole, begrimed and unsteady, all was dispelled in the face of overwhelming awe and fright. They had not struck the open surface, nor any vault of familiar dwarven make; instead they found themselves in the middle of an incomparably vast hall, one that could have easily swallowed a score of houses into itself. The light they had seen blazed forth from many gigantic braziers, and only a little dripped in from tall and narrow windows set vertiginously high above.

The chamber was the widest at the bottom and tapered to a vaulted ceiling, its polished stone walls inset with huge white bands whose true nature birthed a sudden chill from its understanding. For they were nothing else than bones of colossal size; the entire hall, imposing as it was, sat in the hollowed-out ribcage of some inconceivably large monster, and the masonry that formed it was nothing more than an extension of this tremendous carcass. The four bright pillars they saw towering at even intervals around them were themselves carved from singular arm-bones, reared to prop up the interior of the titanic body they had once grown from.

So faint and dizzy were the dwarves with the dread of this revelation that they had not immediately seen they were not alone in the macabre hall. Indeed, the marble floor around them was crowded with dark shapes adorned with bright cloth and gleaming jewelry. These were beings not unlike the thieving beast that had shown the way, but upright on their legs, tailless and massive, more than twice as tall as any dwarf. They were covered in black fur like moles, and had huge staring eyes and snarling tusked mouths, but their attire and bearing was that of courtiers of some outlandish kingdom, clad in cloaks of bright red and vibrant yellow, with clasps and diadems of gold and gemstone.

At the closest end of the hall, atop a dais, rested a cushioned throne whose seat was a gargantuan jawbone tipped with menacing teeth. Two of the hairy creatures, larger even and more wizened than the rest, sat side by side upon it, one dressed in white, the other in black. A wide bowl lay before them, and in it a sphere of what seemed to be clay flecked with gold. Both enthroned fiends had a hand within the bowl: the white-clad one worked the clay, stretching it into spikes and tracing intricate spiral designs on its surface, while the black-clad one followed it closely, smoothing all it had wrought and returning the sphere to a pristine state. The motions of their fingers were dazzlingly complex, yet neither of them looked down: both had their severe gazes fixed on the intruders.

The mangy thief gave a shrill cackle, and, working nimbly with its fingers, slipped open the knot it had been tied with. “There’s as many sweet fruits as you can eat in the palace’s larders!” it called as it bounded away and slipped out through a door, “Baboon always keeps his word!”

The maddened eyes of King Urist darted back and forth, from the trickster that had fled, to the great cavity in the marble hall’s floor from whence they’d emerged, to the many great hairy creatures that now surrounded and outnumbered his expedition. He found himself clenching his pickaxe so tightly that his knuckles whitened as the blood left, even as his heart raced. “Steady,” he murmured to the dwarves all around him. Then, louder, he called out to the two upon the chair, who he took to be the sovereigns of this strange place, “I am King Urist!”

Some of the dwarves around him looked a bit taken aback for having not heard of his new title, but they did not question him in that moment of tension. The king continued, “That scoundrel, that trickster, that thief, he stole from us but then led us here while we were hungry and lost, promising the succor and nourishment of some strange food in return for our mercy. We had no intention to trespass upon your hall, or to breach its fine floor–but if I may be so bold as to ask, who are you? And what is this cavern that we have entered?”

One of the red-cloaked brutes stepped towards him, and leered at the small and travel-worn thing that so boldly proclaimed its kingship.

“Ha! A fine jibe he has played, that flea-blighted old trickster,” he snarled in a voice like cracking stone, “Know that you stand in the presence of Guptaka and Siddhi, Raja and Rani of Sri Rajarata, and of us all their progeny. This palace whose floor you have profaned was wrought from the bones of the unmatched Rakshasaraja, who wrought the entire world that we tread upon and fell in battle in its defense. I am Ghosayitnu the firstborn who speak in their name, and by their rule I proclaim that you all will be in our bond forevermore. A throne like ours has great need of subjects!”

“Is that so?” the dwarf-king shot back, trying to mull some way out of the predicament. “Well, I have more of the gold that enticed the thief so. I might give some to you willingly, that its glow would lure subjects from across the world to your cavern, if only for the secret and source of that sweet food that the thief promised us.”

“What need we for your will?” Ghosayitnu laughed, “You are in our domain now, and we might compel you. Bow before our throne and you will be fed, else…”

Upon these words the ground seemed to shudder, and a huge shape stepped out from behind the jawbone-seat. It was another of the black beasts, but taller still than any, and more massive. Most striking were the four arms, rather than two, which radiated from its shoulders, and its eyes which flared with bright sparks of fury. Unlike the rest of the court, the giant wore a brazen cuirass, and carried a long, broad-bladed sword with a flat point in two hands. Its impressive jutting tusks dripped with savage froth as it stalked forward across the hall.

“It is clear that you are mighty beings, so even as a king I might bow before you as my overlords, if you will bring that might to bear in the protection of my kin and my gold,” King Urist tried.

“You will be under our ward as our subjects,” Ghosayitnu nodded satisfiedly, “But your gold will be ours.”

Urist did not have to say anything to that, for all the dwarves around him grew enraged. Spittle flew from their mouths and they menaced their pickaxes with a fury that would have intimidated many, even starving and outmatched as they were in that hall. One voice that Urist recognized as that of Tekkud, one of his expedition’s original miners, proclaimed, “No one parts a dwarf from his share of the gold-hoard, not even a king!” And hefting his pickaxe mightily, Tekkud leaped forward to swing at the kneecap of the armored hulk that stood before them. Not to be outdone, the king and the rest of them followed that courageous display and joined the charge.

His blow never landed, however, for in the moment while he was in fight, the colossus who had seemed so firm on his feet suddenly snapped into motion and threw himself into a manic dance. First he swatted aside Tekkud the miner, and then his foot caught King Urist and sent him sailing through the air with a deft kick, until he struck one of the great bone pillars.

Dazed and aching, the king watched through darkening vision as the fiendish courtiers hurriedly cleared the center of the hall, where the giant fell upon the dwarves that came pouring from the fissure. He swept through them like a storm made flesh, the steps of his martial dance scattering their bodies like so many pebbles and outright trampling some unfortunates underfoot. The tremendous sword lashed like bursts of lightning, severing heads and cleaving foes in two with brutal ease. For all his bulk, the monster stepped around the hole faster than the eye could blink, and the warriors who emerged from below gaped in disorientation, scarcely able even to land a blow on his thick hide. And the great blade that he wielded so deftly in but one hand was not the only danger; he had three more palms and two heels with which to strike, and seemed to be merely toying with them, or else preserving the lives of his new playthings, for he would deliver battering blows more often than not and only cut down the most ardent of attackers. Soon, the dwarves realized this, and lost heart.

Then the two looming regnants seated atop the throne ceased their belabouring of the clay sphere, leaving half of it wrought and half smooth, and raised their hands in a gesture of halting. The giant’s dance steadily spun to a stop, until he stood still like a great glinting spire among his battered adversaries.

“See now that you are vanquished,” said Ghosayitnu with a smirk, and at his beckoning his fellows crowded around the hole, barring the dwarves from fleeing down it, “Give yourselves and your riches to us, and we may yet be merciful.”

So it was King Urist I was called Urist the Kneeler, when he might have instead been remembered forevermore as Urist the Goldfinder. As to Clan Gusilreg, in their distant caverns deep in the bowels of Galbar, they did arrive to meet with those first few sentinels sent back up to the initial colony; a second wave of migrants had arrived to reinforce and resupply the new settlement. And when they heard the tales of that mighty gold vein, they delved deep into the mines, but lo! The tunnels had collapsed in many places, and they could find nothing more than seams of blighted iron in the rock, and here and there some traces of gold dust, much to the chagrin and despair of those sentinels that had been sent back up who now lacked for their share of their gold-hoard, for it was a miserable existence as a dwarf, to lose one’s gold and yet still live to suffer at its memory.

In any case, none who had returned knew of the thieving Baboon or the discovery of the Indias, and none who had made it to the other end were ever able to return. Instead they became the dwarves of India, yoked to the great Rakshasas of the great Bone Palace, they who lorded over the hottest of the three Indias, that southern region called Sri Rajarata.

In the swamp where Egrioth had sunk after death, in the waters that had been tranquil since that day, something shifted and stirred as something rose from the depths. Earth bulged, and then exploded as three things burst from it, a witch, a stone, and a grotesque lump of flesh that pulsed with both life and power.

“Your a tricky beast, hiding this away in a leg of all places” the Breaker told the outer beast’s still beating heart “and ya would have gotten away with it, where it not for … whatever this is”

She glanced over at the rock that had poked into the heart while she had been attempting to harvest more flesh so she could use it to curse yet more outer beasts, causing it to spasm and give its existence away. It was by no means a natural stone, this was obvious due to the symbols carved upon it, although carved was perhaps the wrong word. It was as if something had pressed the symbols into it all at once, compressing the stone rather than cutting it away.

“Hmmm, now what does this say? Hmmm. Hmmmm?” the goddess hummed and hawed as she tilted her head to and fro while attempting to read the symbols “Ah yes, I think I see. It is you, your power outsider, that is written here. Pain. Hurt that can harm even I, a pain I know quite well sadly and-ow”

She paused in her musing as something jabbed her in the side of the head. She raised her hand up and grasped at it, only for her fingers to be prickled, forcing her to tear them away. Then she steeled herself, grabbed the source of the pain, and tore it from her face before tossing it into the waters, revealing it to be her riding goggles, now warped, half turned into the translucent purple curse energy of Egrioth.

“Hmmm, well that’s strange” she muttered, before glancing back at the runestone and immediately understanding what had occurred as the same force that had warped her goggles attempted to warp her now unguarded eyes instead

“ack, what a nasty drawback you have” she complained as she glanced away, before thinking for a moment, and then tipping the stone fully into the water, before reading again. The marshland’s waters themselves twisted as she read through them, but the sheer volume ment a single learning had little impact, and soon enough she knew Egrioth’s heart from the runestone spawned by its energies.

“Interesting, interesting … Now what in the world do I even do with this information, huh?” she asked, before thinking for a moment and then snapping her fingers in memory of something she had seen from on high while orbiting the world.

“Ah so that is what that was. One moment please” she requested of the heart, before blasting across the sea of origin to the other example of these stones she had seen. There, through a veil of mist, she snooped on Rúnaritari’s diary, and then once she had digested everything she thought she had a pretty clear idea of what the goddess had been going for. So after a quick pit stop to collect a bucket full of R’kava goop, she returned with a plan in mind

“Thank you for waiting dear” she told the heart, as she set down the bucket, as well as a small pile of knives on a convenient rock, before telling it “now let’s see if we can’t get you to cooperate, and cut you down to a more portable size to boot. I’m hardly going to lug you around as you are now, am I?”

If the lump of still living muscle could feel fear, it would have. Instead it simply suffered as the Breaker began carving runes into it. She too suffered, mainly because what she was trying to do kept warping her knives into unusable twisted things, and even then they kept breaking against the godlike flesh of the heart, resulting in what was very much just torture rather than anything productive.

An increasingly frustrated Breaker cursed and swore, and then was suddenly replaced by the Maiden who screamed out “I can’t take it any more!!!!” in frustration as she grabbed all the broken knives, and the bucked, shoved them all into each other somehow in order to produce, of all things, a chainsaw. The blade whirred, R’kava running slick across it, before she began carving into the heart, rendering onto it not a rune they had learned from either stone, nor one written in the khodex, but a simple ring shape that was, functionally, because of the power of repetition, hers.

Or, to put it another way, she carved the runic equivalent of slang or a gang tag onto it.

“There, that’s how you do it!” she declared, before passing off to the mother who hadn’t really been paying attention to any of this, and was rather surprised to find a wiring blade of godly harm in her hands. She stumbled, complained about this “reckless nonsense!” and then only after the other two badgered her did she carve a circle onto the heart.

The breaker followed it up with her bisected circle, and then proceed to go to down on the rest of the heart, carving a massive network of runes all across it, forming chains of curse runes linking the three, which when completed began squeezing and contracting inwards, shriveling the heart, contending its power tighter and tighter until the massive organ was the size of a walnut.

“And there we go, understand who’s in charge now, little thing?” the Breaker enquired as she picked up the heart in one hand and gave it a squeeze. In response a massive sea of translucent purple arrows formed around her, all pointing inwards at the goblin goddess herself. And yet, with a simple “no,” and a flaring of the runes carved into the heart, she willed them all to turn arch up into the air, and then rain down on a poor unsuspecting outer beast that had survived the battle here only to foolishly come to inquire as to what was causing all the noise, the rain of arrows resulting in it to feel so much pain that its nervous system exploded and it expired.

“Much better,” the breaker declared, before producing a mundane little locket for the heart to be set into so she could hang it around her neck. Then she proceeded to stash her new craving implement, strapping it to her bike for safe keeping. That only left the giant rock as a loose end, only for it to subsequently mysteriously appear in the ruins of Tricity, along with detailed instructions about how to not lose your eyeballs and a copy of a certain goddess’ runic journal as an added bonus.

"Get that cart moving! Where are your permits?" Bloodbeak cawed as he oversaw the orderly fashion in which his people were both taken into the underground shelters, but also saw to leading them out of them once it was all clear.

"Form a line! Form a line! There is no reason for panic!" Bloodbeak proclaimed, and just then he saw it. Something far worse than enemies outside of this world, something far more wicked.

"Well, well if it isn't that good for nothing goblinkissing traitor!" Bloodbeak put both of his taloned hands at his waist as he observed the more slender fowlfolk, Cawcax approach.

"Who are you again?" The slender looking crowman asked, his head tilting, pretending that he didn't remember.

"Such impudence! You ungrateful little scab! I am Bloodbeak, loyal servant of our lord
How dare you insult me you beastman hugging fakebeak!" Bloodbeak gripped his staff angrily.

"I thought I smelled the stench of blind faith. Guess that were you all along. Huh." Cawcax said in a mocking tone.

"Listen here you talonlacking hatchling, I was told to deliver you these two items, and nothing would please me more for you to say no to them so I can give them to someone who is actually not a good-for-nothing!" Bloodbeak presented the dagger and the ring which Reverion had given to him to offer to Cawcax.

"Does your god truly expect me to simply accept these weapons as some kind of peace offering? I am not gonna kneel for him or anyone else. But I shall take these items, perhaps I can have them aid in the undoing of the lot of them." Cawcax mused and snatched the items from Bloodbeak.

"How dare you mock the greatness and generousity of your own creator! You ungrateful rotten half-egged good for nothing godhater!" Bloodbeaks talons, no his entire body was shaking. He wanted nothing more than strike down this affront before him, why had their maker made him share the skies and earth with someone like this? He couldn't understand. Even if his god would explain it. This particular kin of his was his antithesis, his polar opposite. Where was his sense of duty, love for his people, his god and even the world? What was it that had made him such an oddity. It were as if he couldn't bear the idea of a being standing above him in authority and power.

"You are correct with one thing. I do hate them. Because they dare to use us as their playthings, it's coming natural to them to just see us as toys or subjects whose sole purpose is to worship them and spread their influence. I will never kneel to any of them, as long as I have my free will. My rebellion will live on. Mark my words Bloodbeak, there will be a day when mortals such as I will attain power enough to destroy the gods, and that will set us all free." Cawcax gave an almost sinister grin with his teeth filled beak.

"I will not let you even think about causing harm to our great benefactors! I will be there to teach you a lesson one day, best not forget it! You know nothing of loyalty and honor! " Bloodbeak pointed a talon towards Cawcax.

"And I do not intend to start now." Cawcax said in a nonchalant way as he sheathed the dagger, and pocketed the ring.

"Well... " Bloodbeak took a moment to collect himself for his witty reply.

"Well you are ugly! Yes that's right, go and wash that goblin looking face!" Bloodbeak yelled out in a triumphant manner.

“Come back to us dear, its rise and shine, because I am afraid my dear daughter needs you awake for this next bit” came an intruding voice into his dream, gentle yet irresistibly instant, causing his eyes to blink open, and reveal the source to be a short green motherly goblin not wearing a witch’s hat.

“There we go, good man” the goblin praised, before telling him “now, I’ll be around, so just ask if you need something, but for the most part I’ll be leaving you in the capable hands of my lovely daughter” and stepping back to allow a similarly small goblin to step into view, one who even if he didn’t recognize her face he was able to recognize the tendrils she had grown just after she’d met him.

“Welcome back Jaxx,” Lilly said, before explaining “ya’ve been out for a while. Me mother insisted we let ya rest while I tinkered on ya new arm, which is, well iz a thing we can do now. But ya need to be awake so I can tell if I’m hooking things up right”

She gestured to his side where he was still missing an arm, and where, next to the stump, lay a table with a familiar looking limb, one of a silvery metal that he had severed from the Outer beast that had taken his own.

Pain. Screams. Death. More screams. An arm flying around. Pain. So much pain and death. Innocents. Danger. Everywhere. Dodge. Attack! Pain.

Jaxx’s dreams were…not peaceful. Not peaceful at all yet in all his dreaming, there was one thing that brought him peace. There was no ringing, no hero sense that prompted him to save lives or be a hero. It was quiet. His thoughts were his own and he could rest.

And then with a jolt, Jaxx woke up. Almost immediately he tried to stand up only to be held back by the straps around his arm and legs.

“No. No. No! Aaaaggghh! ” he screamed, letting out a roar of pain as the pain of his missing arm made itself known.

Eventually after stopping, Jaxx acknowledges Lily with a curt nod of his head.

“I…sorry. I don't remember you're name, miss. But I remember your fighting. I can feel the heroic energy around you, safe to assume you've proved yourself? ” said Jaxx, his voice tough and croaky as if he hadn't spoken in weeks.

Then, as soon as Lily replied with a nod and her name, time slowed down. Briefly.

“Hello? What….oh. Great! You couldn't bloody let me rest in peace and had to use your shitty divine bullshit on me again!” started Jaxx to say before realizing what happened and looking upwards, shouting at his invisible patron.

“Are ya alright?” Lilly asked, glancing up at the ceiling as well, before enquiring “are ya yellin at yer god?” in a tone that made it clear that she didn’t think this was quite as strange as others might have.

With a shake of his head, the time slow effect stopped and Jaxx turned towards Lily. Finally understanding her words. “Apologies. My god? That bastard is not my god. He just doesn’t want to leave me alone! He gave me some new power. You seemed…slower. The sounds from outside slowed down. ”

“Slower? Well, ya do seem faster” Lilly replied, before thinking for a moment and then asking “doesithelpifitaklquicklylikethis?”

“Stop, stop. It stopped now. Anyway. What were you saying? My arm is quite in a lot of pain, you’ve got something for it? ”

“Yup, new one” Lilly replied as she patted the metal limb laying next to him, before adding apologetically that it would “hurt more first though. Plus yer gonna be a bit reliant on this stuff for life if ya wanna keep it” as she gestured a hand at a bowl of black goop. A faint mist seemed to hang over it, never rising or dissipating, one charged with something old as the world yet had so far been so rarely wielded by mortal hands: magic.

Jaxx took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of the black goop and almost gagged on it. “Gah, that thing smells foul. Magic to make me a new arm? Good, let’s get it over with it. I have…work to do. ” replied Jaxx as he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down as the ringing in his head started to intensify. Innocents were in danger, he had to save them.

Lilly looked like she was about to say something about that, before simply nodding in agreement. Then she blinked once, her posture changed slightly, and she requested in a voice that both was and was not her own “now please, hold still. Working with the great one’s gift is delicate work”

The Octari wearing a goblin’s skin picked up a paintbrush with a stone handle and metal bristles in one hand, dabbing it in the bowl. Then in the other they took up a small fine knife with a similarly unbiological stone handle and informed Jaxx that “your body has tiny parts of it that act like daffotales along a riverbank, sending messages to and fro. I will need to cut away the scar tissue to expose them to the air so I can extend them and mesh them with your new arm. This will hurt”

He did not lie.

The operation was long and arduous, and required the hero’s participation to test each new nerve connection was synced up correctly, but stroke by stroke, Lilly’s past live painted a masterwork of flesh and steel, till at last the deed was done, and Jaxx was whole once more.

Jaxx didn’t have an easy time. His body screamed in pain as his mind screamed with the lives of innocents that he had to save. Luckily for Jaxx, a certain someone intervened halfway through the operation and nulled the pain his body felt. Fact which made Jaxx even more angry even if he was grateful for a respite from the pain.

Eventually, the operation was done. Jaxx was whole once more. The arm was different. It felt different. Otherworldly. Yet somehow it felt like it was his original one. Even if this one was made out of metal, a strange metal at that.

Standing up, Jaxx slowly touched his new arm with his original one, feeling the metal from the wrist up to where his flesh began. It was a weird feeling. On one side, he was grateful for his new arm as he knew he’d use it to save many lives…on the other side, he lost an arm. He was made with that arm and now it was forever gone. Was he still a goblin even or something more than that?

With just a short curt nod at Lily, after he was done inspecting his arm he said: “I need my sword, Heropentia. The arm looks and feels great and all but if I can’t wield a sword, it’ll be all for ‘naught. ”

“Dis way” the goblin replied as she set aside her implements , her voice back to normal, which was to say dripping with the distinctive accent the goblins of the city seemed to have. She led the hero through her family's home, passing by members of said extended family many of whom stopped and stared in amazement at the sight of him, be it his arm or that he was awake at all.

Then they were out into a courtyard where someone had set up rudimentary targets and training dummies, which Seam, the lanky seriema fullblood, was in the midst of practicing with, jabbing away with his second hand billhook. He and Lilly had a brief exchange, before he tossed her a key which she then used to open a large trunk set against one of the walls of the courtyard.

Within a small collection of arms could briefly be seen, but the one of import was, of course, the hero's blade, which she promptly presented to him, alongside a suggestion that “Maybe you and Seam could spar as a warm up?” one that the beastman in question said “I’d be honored” to do so.

Jaxx, not one for manners, didn’t say much to Lily’s family and only gave a slight nod as hello before hurrying up. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have manners, it was more that he never had the chance to learn them or practice them. It was always “onto save a new life for him”.

Yet, the moment he saw Seam, his face lit up. If he didn’t fully understand manners, he definitely understood combat and Seam was definitely not the best fighter out there, yet the kid had potential that was obvious to see.

“Very well but just so you know, this won’t be a fair fight. Even if I hold back. ” said Jaxx as he took Heropentia and swung it with his metal arm. He could barely feel the weight of it. Before, he had to hold Heropentia with two hands to be able to wield it properly but now? Now it was as if he had a short sword. This new arm of his ‘sure came with interesting perks.

Going into a fighting pose, Jaxx closed his eyes and nodded to Seam.

“You’ve got the first move. Whenever you want. ”

The birdman cocked his head to the side curiously at the hero closing his eyes, before, with the arrogance of youth, going easy on his first probing stab with his billhook.

Before he even moved his arm to push the billhook forward, there was a slight buzz in Jaxx's mind, warning him of the incoming hit.

In a flash, he dodged to the side and took a step forward, his sword touching the billhook's owner's arm.

“One. ” said Jaxx with his eyes still closed and took a step backwards.

“Again.”

The beastman blinked a few times, and then put his back into things this time, taking a step back of his own and then performing a far faster leaping downwards jab.

This time, Jaxx decided to test out his new arm rather than his sword skills and as soon as the familiar buzz came, he dropped Heropentia and struck his metallic hand forward right in the path of the blade.

Sparks flew out as the two metals collided and promptly pushed the two fighters to the side.

“Ugh, I kinda felt that but who needs a shield anymore. ” he said while opening his eyes, a grin on his battle scarred face.

“Ya can say dat again, ting’s working like a charm” the goblin woman agreed, clearly rather proud of her handiwork, to which Seam nodded in agreement.

“Aye, it'll be useful. Now, Seam. I want you to jump a few times left and right, then circle me and strike from my blind spots. You're small and fast, use it for your advantage. ” said Jaxx to Seam with a smile before adding “Like this. ” and went on to demonstrate the zig-zag movement then a jump to the side and he was behind Seam.

It felt strange to Jaxx to talk with others and not do any traveling or killing. One could say this was Jaxx’s first holiday and he was enjoying it.

“Your turn and also I suggest getting two daggers or short swords instead of the billhook. ” continued Jaxx with a smile before getting back in position.

The birdman seemed about to disagree, but was prevented from doing so by Lilly noisily rummaging in the weapon’s trunk again before pulling out the dagger Seam had first fought with before claiming the hook he was holding, along with a sheathed bronze blade. An exchange was made, and then the heroes faced off again, with the avian beastman performing fluttering leaps to and fro before darting round to the side and striking with his weapons, new and old.

And soon he was behind Jaxx who, upon receiving the all familiar buzz, jumped to the forward at the last moment, both weapons almost nicking him.

“If I didn't know you were coming, that would've been a hit. Now, let me demonstrate why two weapons are sometimes better than one. ” Jaxx said as he gave Lily his long sword, Heropentia, and took a long staff from the pile of weapons.

“Defend yourself. Try using one weapon if you can with the second one, wait for an opening and stab me. ” added Jaxx and he waited for Seam to get in position before advancing towards him and then started jabbing at him with the staff.

The younger hero did as he was told, and got repeatedly jabbed for his efforts as he tried to learn the trick. It was only after some pointers from the other two that he at last managed to parry away the head of the staff using the knife, and made a stab forwards with the sword.

Even with Jaxx’s foresight, the blows were erratic. The moves of a beginner, with no purpose other than to hit the opponent with everything they’ve got and eventually, a stab went through Jaxx’s defense.

It wasn’t a deep stab but enough to draw a bit of blood from Jaxx. “Well done, young hero. Do the same thing everyday for the next few years and none shall be able to stop you. ” said Jaxx with a satisfied smile.

“That long?” the younger hero groaned, while Lilly inquired “and how long have ya been at it anyhow? There be generations of tales about ya, buy you no look that old”

“It’s been…20 years since I completed my first quest. Saved some goblins from some beastfolk, Goddess Asheel gave me the quest and that arrogant bastard Galaxor cursed me with the hero sense. ” said Jaxx calmly before mentioning Galaxor when his tone turned dark.

“You’ll find out that us, heroes, live longer than the average person. If a healthy goblin can live 100 years, a hero will live 200. We age slower and are stronger, faster, smarter. ” explained Jaxx, his previous hatred gone.

“Tha still no be right, ah’ve lived more’n 2 dozen lives so far, an tho lotta em ended short, that’s still mor’n 200” Lilly replied skeptically

Jaxx's face betrayed his confusion and a bit of horror at realizing that he's talking with someone a few times his age while also, the horror of being 200 years not 20 since he left.

“That…that doesn't seem right. Impossible. I counted the days since I left. Every single one of them. Started as a way to keep myself focused and then it just became a habit. Every day, every kill and every quest. ” Jaxx said before putting his hands on his face. A few “no, no, no” could be heard under his breath.

“No! That doesn't make any sense!” he shouted, anger clear on his face.

“Ya did just do a time slow thing when ya woke up” she pointed out, before theorizing “means time can be different in different places. Jus less obvious. Would explain why ya can’t rely on anything coming from up river showin up on time” and though that last part had been said in a tone of jest, it did cause her to “hmmm” and wonder if there might be something to that.

“Probably that bastard’s doing. Again! I swear I'll find a way to ki–” started Jaxx to say before stopping mid sentence, a scream following. A blood curdling scream that would send chills to those around.

The buzzing in his mind started to intensify while it gave him a few moments of peace, it decided that it was ignored for far too long.

“I..I…innocent people. Save. ” he shouted once more before taking Heropentia and starting to walk in the direction his sense was pulling him.

“I… what?” Lilly said, taken aback by this sudden departure. She glanced at Seam, sharing first a pair of confused looks, and then a nod of agreement. The goblin first grabbed another knife, a small crossbow and an accompanying bandolier of bolts from the chest before locking it up again, and then, along with Seam, going after Jaxx.

Despite both the delay to arm herself, and the subsequent detour to grab one of the family Buggys (which had been thoughtfully pre-packed with water and rations by her Mother), they caught up with the elder hero easily enough. There was only one place he could be going after all. South, towards the ransacked southern half of the city, just beyond which danger still lurked in dark hidden places.

---

Ayre’s breath became tight and sharp as she beat her legs ever forward. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as the crowds around the tree began to dissipate. She ignored her body. A few short moments ago, many turned and gawked at her as she streamed by. A few shouted her name. A few more tried to stop her. But Ayre would not be stopped. Not for them. Not for anyone. She could feel it in her bones that something was wrong with her twin, her flesh and blood. She knew not where exactly but she knew where to start looking.

So she ran. She ran so fast she felt like she was soaring. The Divinium Forge at last came into view but her heart sank as she took in the empty sight. No people had gathered there. No Syllianth remained to guard it. When she finally came to a stop, more out of an imminent collapse of her beating chest, she held her arms high above her head and just breathed. Her sides ached and each breath sent a sharp pain into her lungs but still she looked. For any sign of her sister’s whereabouts.

When it became increasingly apparent that there were no signs of her sister, Ayre forgot about her labored breathing as she grabbed onto a small workbench and lifted. With a loud crack, the workbench hit the stone floor and every tool on it scattered. With the final blunt clang of iron over stone coming to silence, Ayre’s shoulders drooped and she rubbed her temple with her thumb and index finger. She sighed and heat escaped her mouth. Anger would get her nowhere, she knew that and yet- and yet she didn’t stop herself. What would Ida think?

Ayre’s cheeks flushed a deep red as shame cooled her heat. It was the only answer she needed and she bent down, righting the table and retrieving the tools to place them back on it. Only when she allowed herself to back away from the table, her work being finished, did a cold breeze nip at her and she looked down at her bare skin. Her cheeks flushed with crimson as she looked around, finding an old and worn smithing apron. It covered the front of her but in the loosest terms, as she had to tie it tight around her back and neck. For her back, she managed to find another apron and tied it in reverse.

She was almost happy that Ida wasn’t here to witness. She swore both she and her sister would have died from sheer embarrassment. She dipped her head and used the palm of her hands to rub either side of her head.

“Think Ayre, think.” She muttered to herself. Where would Ida have gone? Well, she knew sister and was certain she would have tried to come back for her and their father. Seeing as she hadn’t, or she had and Ayre had missed her, but that seemed unlikely. Ayre still felt off, not the calm she normally had in Ida’s presence. No, she hadn’t come back or hadn’t been able to and if that was the case, where would the Syllianth have sent her?
Would they have known the danger at the tree? Seeing as there wasn’t anyone at the Forge, that meant they had gone somewhere and they wouldn’t have sent people back to the tree if there was some sort of threat. No, they would have sent them… Underground!

Ayre snapped her head back up and twirled. The entrance to the caverns beneath the tree, where the Little Folk and their kin delved and called home. Of course, of course! She began to jog in that direction. The entrance drew closer, and closer, and closer. It kept coming closer, she had already been jogging for a few minutes at least. Surely she would have been there by now?

“Lost my dear?” A voice suddenly pierced the air. From seemingly nowhere, a figure appeared in her vision. It was an elf, dressed in the gaudiest fashion she had ever seen. Their long coat was a mishmash of colours and designs and laid upon their shoulders. Their shirt and pants were equally gaudy and mismatched, with their boots curling at the toe. Finally, a wide brimmed hat covered their head, only barely hiding their wide smiling face. “You seem like you’re running from a fire there.” They leaned against a cane in their hands.

She came to a stop, holding her arm across her midsection as her eyes lit with confusion. “There was…” She began but her voice faded as she looked at the elf. Really looked and the confusion on her face deepened, growing with weariness. She cleared her throat and began to walk past him, towards the entrance. “No, not lost. Just looking for someone.”

A soft chuckle came from the elf, picking up the cane and beginning to walk alongside her. “Looking for someone? In a good way or a bad way?” The smile upon his face had remained. “That fire within you says it could be either. Quite the conundrum I imagine?”

She glanced at the elf but kept walking. The entrance to the cave was so close but with each step it felt like she wasn’t getting any closer. A strange sort of feeling crept into her chest as she glanced at the man again and picked up her pace. Maybe he’d take the hint? Maybe he’d go away?

The elf did not in fact, take the hint. Instead he kept walking alongside her, the clack of the cane sounding alongside both of their steps. “Not the talkative type are you? So focused on your destination. Are you even sure they will be there?” Another chuckle came from the elf, this time it sounded far more discordant, like an off tune lyre being plucked. “That fire within is driving you somewhere, have you wondered where yet?”

She made the mistake of listening to what he said and doubt crept in beside that feeling of growing unease. It was as if she needed to run from this elf but to do so would be certain death. She stared ahead, watching the cave entrance grow no closer. She knew not if it would be another mistake but she couldn’t contain herself any longer and blurted, “I know where I’m going, so back off.”

This time, it was a full laugh from the elf, discordant and chaotic, with notes changing at every step. “Feisty! No wonder the dear flame has taken to you.” He picked up his cane again, gesturing towards the entrance that still sat so close, yet so far. “Yet there it sits, for one so confident, your destination is still so far off. Are you certain it's the correct choice? If it's wrong, that's just less time to find her.” He lowered the cane. “The fire may know, but do you?”

She had been so close to breaking into another full sprint. To escape this crazed elf man who spouted nonsense. But what he said stopped Ayre in her tracks. She spun on him and grabbed his long coat at his chest with both hands. “What did you just say?” she demanded. The uncertainty in her voice from earlier had faded into indignation. She scowled at this gaudy looking elf with his stupid cane. “What have you done with my sister?”

“I have done nothing my dear.” The elf only continued to smile even as she grabbed him. “Your sister is not in my hands. I would never dare to split such loving siblings apart.” Another chuckle, it was beginning to grate upon the air. “I suppose you could say I’m merely…curious, especially about you and your flame.” He made no move to actually leave her grip, instead he just stood there, smiling at her, his face seemingly contorting to contain it.

Her grip tightened on the fabric and she pulled at it ever so slightly. “I don’t believe you.” she snapped. “You act like you know me but I’ve never met you. Then you show up out of the blue, while the Tree is in a panic? The Forge abandoned! My sister…” Ayre grit her teeth. Her face tightened as that feeling of dread tried to blossom, only to be smothered by something else entirely. Her eyes narrowed. “You keep mentioning my flame.” she hissed. “Should I show it to you, old man or are you going to tell me where my sister is?”

“Like I said my dear. I do not know where your sister is.” The elf looked beyond her, towards the rest of the tree. “As for the tree? I suppose I just enjoy it when Chaos is unfurling.” He returned his gaze to her, a glint in his eyes. “I suppose my words will not stop you. Go on then, how about we see that flame of yours? I have been eager to see what my dear flame has been up to.”

She felt the heat rising in her. At this infuriating elf and at this infuriating predicament she found herself in. Her grip on his cloak began to smolder and she wondered, truly wondered, what it would be like to touch flame with flesh. And then like a wave, guilt washed over her and she let go, stumbling backwards. She couldn’t harm a person like that. She couldn’t, not ever and the fact she even had such a thought was damning. But hadn’t she hit those elflings who made fun of Ida? Hadn’t she harmed others? She blinked and realized what she had been about to do, would have been so much worse. She sucked in a ragged breath. “I can’t.”

A soft ‘tsk’ came from the elf, still completely unbothered by her attempt to light him aflame. They took a step closer, letting their cane clack against the ground. Their smile had faded, but only a little bit. “I suppose it's to be expected, you mortals and your moralities.” His gaze went elsewhere once more, up towards the tree that covered the world above them. “Never understood why the others would build a place like this, then just lock it all up. But a matter for another time!” He returned to focus on her, his smile growing once more. “Regardless, a test has been passed, I suppose. Was it a test though? I suppose regardless of what you would have done would’ve been passing. Maybe it was all just a fun little game, or a trick! Anyway, You have passed, and rewards are to be given!” The elf began to dig in their cloak and pockets, searching for something while muttering random words to himself.

Ayre suddenly felt the anger drain from her, replaced by a wave of nausea at his words and she knew without a doubt what that feeling dread was trying to warn her. “You… You are a Divine?” she murmured, more to herself.

“Perhaps I am! Perhaps I’m not! I am Chaos that is all.” The elf mused out loud, continuing to search their pockets, over and over again. “To be divine, such a silly thing, so focused on the god hoods and the ceremonies, though isn’t this a ceremony? I guess so.” Another laugh, if one could even call it that anymore. “But that is no matter to you, what worth would be anything but your dear sister? Ah ha!” Finally, the elf-god pulled out something from a pocket on their coat. In their hand was a necklace, built of a beautiful shimmering cord, strung together with a prismatic gem placed at the end. The gem glowed and shifted colours with every look, almost looking like it would change its shape if it wanted to. “There it is!”

Her eyes snapped to the gem of the necklace. “I… I don’t understand.” She let out after a moment, unable to take her eyes off the thing. Had he said reward earlier?

The elf-god stepped forward, showing off the necklace even more. “You see my dear, I happened to be in the area and noticed the touch of my Dearest Flame upon you. I felt the pain you were seeking to relieve, and I figured I’d help out!” Their head cocked in a strange direction, their wide smile returning. “But I had to test you first of course! Test that flame that has sparked within you. And you passed!” Their hand shot forward, necklace being offered. “But of course you were always going to pass. There was never any doubt in that!”

She managed to look away from the gem and to the God, with a mix of suspicion and intrigue. She didn’t know what to do. Would not accepting the gift be seen as an insult? Did she want something from this strange deity of chaos? Unsure of herself, she tentatively reached out, “I… Thank you, Lord.”

The god only smiled, letting the necklace drop into her hands. “Always A Pleasure.” They spoke, their voice now turning into a discordant tune. Their gaze shifted from the phoenix back towards the tree itself. “I suppose it's a turn of luck that I was here. But That Is No Matter! Your Necklace There Will Be Of Great Help! Your Powers Will Grow With Its Aid, Hopefully It Will Aid You Finding Your Sister.” The god took off their hat, taking a bow towards her. “Alas, This Is Where I Must Leave You.”

Ayre blinked, closing her hand over the gem. “Wait!” She said, taking a step forward. The sudden urge to ask, that curiosity welled inside her. “Do you know exactly where she is? My sister?”

“Alas, I Do Not.” The god shook their head, their gaze now shifting rapidly around in every direction. “She Is Alive, That I Know. But It Will Be Up To You To Find Her, My Sight Can Only Go So Far.” For a brief moment their gaze returned to her, their smile unwavering, before shifting away again. “That Fire Of Yours Will Take You Far. That Is Certain.” Their focus finally focused elsewhere, a spark caught in their eye. “That's My Cue Then. Off I Go!” Suddenly, in a flash of prismatic flame, the elf was gone.

Ayre cursed under her breath and turned back to the cave entrance. She didn't know whether to be shocked or appalled that she had met a god in the flesh or that he knew about her gift from her mother. She was almost certain her attitude would have gotten her killed but it didn't. Instead she looked at the prismatic gem in her hand and then she slipped it over her head, pulling her hair back to tuck it around her neck. The metal was strangely warm upon her skin as she took the first step forward.

Her sense of urgency doubled as she entered the dark of the cave. She had to find her sister.

The underground caves were vast and even deeper they went underground. The caves began wider at least that was something that the goblins would notice when going further deep. The expedition deeper was thanks in part to goblins disappearing the deeper they went with those who returned home to ever bigger caves.

The GU went through hard during this period. First earthquakes, then attacks of the monsters, then disappearances. It was as if someone was set to kill them or make their lives hard.

In regards to the disappearances, Maxima had enough. Arming her best warriors turned heroes due to the monster attacks, she led them deep within the caves. In the lowest parts, just above the Library.

It was there they noticed signs of life. Sentient life. Signs of people other than goblins. Danger.

The caves were more like mine shafts and well carved as the deeper it went occasionally. But during the trip they would return to a more natural state and the deeper they went the more common it was to see mushrooms growing in the walls of caverns. Eventually, they discovered that the cave stopped at a large opening too dark to see but incredibly deep like an underground ravine. It was incredibly large. It was bigger than most other caves seen below and it seemed more humid than others. The group could also easily see lights in the darkness below at the bottom of the cave but it seemed a bit distant.

The party quickly readied their weapons and approached carefully through the shafts. It wasn’t until they saw the first creature that they stopped and hid. Each goblin, all specifically selected by Maxima for this task, all small and easy to hide in mine shafts if the need ever arose to escape danger.

Then, Maxima, unarmed, stepped forward in the light. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the light and saw what must’ve been a small goblin with a long beard. Trying to extend her influence over him, she quickly realized he wasn’t a goblin but something else.

“Hello! Do you understand me?” said Maxima in what was her friendliest tone. Behind her stood at least 20 goblins, hidden from view. Ready to attack at a moment’s notice if needed.

The creature that they found was fair skinned, compared to then with auburn hair and a brown bear, his clothes were rather strange too and he seemed to have a pickaxe out of iron seeing then the silence was rather deafening before he opened his mouth shouting. “Uthgúr! Uthgúr! Vod Sheget!” he soon grabbed a lamp beside him and started running screaming down the shaft. The lights of the mine shaft seemed to begin extinguishing as the sound of panic began to echo through the walls.

Not understanding what the person was saying, Maxima and the group advanced. Weapons at the ready to kill anything that would endanger them and with Maxima’s connection to Galaxor, he was aware of what was happening.

The group continued to move forward as the echoes of the dwarfs began to diminish in the distance but the lower they got through the mines the more the echo of sound of the dwarfs returned and with the group arriving in a new cave tunnel they soon saw a group of the creatures heavily armored in iron with weapons a officer shouting. “Ïkor!” As the group of dwarfs in front of then readied their warhammers and got into position.

Immediately, Maxima and the goblins went into position too. Spear throwers in the back and a group with diamond shields in the front. Maxima was right in the thick of it. Leading from the front was always her style after all. With a bit of luck, she could take a good part of these dwarves on her own but she preferred not to try it out.

“Hold! We’re the Goblin Underground and I am their leader, hero of Galaxor God Of Heroism, Knowledge and Time. Know that we are under his direct protection and we don’t wish to fight but if you want a fight…we’ll make sure to take you with us. ”

The dwarfs continued ready for a fight with the officer saying in his language. “What did she say?” Another dwarf mumbled. “Don’t look at me i don’t know…” someone soon replied “At Least they speak… compared to when things like this happen…” The officer coughed before shouting. “Returning your lands! Green things you are bypassing our lands!”

With a puzzled look, Maxima looked behind her at the others but they shared the same confused looks. Neither of them spoke each other’s language. That didn’t make things easy…at all. That’s when Maxima had an idea.

Quickly taking out a stone table, she sculpted on it a picture of a goblin and then a happy face on it, thinking that hopefully it’ll translate to “friend” in whatever language these creatures spoke in. Afterwards, she slid it across to them, not wanting to approach too much.

The group looked at her, the officer seeing the happy face with him saying in dwarvish. “Marvelous, now that…” He seemed annoyed saying to the man beside him. “I don’t like this especially after the invasions… A soldier soon said. “Sir, you think the high queen mother El’zadir might help?” “The message might take forever to reach her… I don’t like this…” The officer replied looking more nervous; he felt it could be a trap.

As the dwarves looked at the drawing, it was clear that they didn't understand anything out of it. Confusion written clearly on their face.

Luckily, it seemed that both groups had the same idea. If they can't understand each other, maybe their divine patrons could help.

Raising a hand in the air, Maxima started speaking.

“Oh’ great timeless warrior-sage, Galaxor. I, Maxima, your hero and first creation call upon thee! Please show yourself and help us avoid unnecessary spilling of blood. I don't wish to kill them. ”

And then nothing happened for a few tense minutes…and then it did.

As if he was standing there all the time, a golden-blue-purple-ish dwarf appeared in the middle of the dwarven group.

“Boo!” said Galaxor as soon as he was been noticed by dwarves, letting out a divine pulse of energy, sort-of beacon that only divine beings could sense and follow.

The dwarves jumped in panic seeing their line disorganized and they panicked with screams as they looked at him in surprise, some shouting the name of their goddess. As they pointed weapons, cursing to themselves and against him as they were shocked.

With a laugh, Galaxor transformed into his usual self and teleported to Maxima’s line which tried to tell him what happened but got stopped before managing to say a word.

“It's ok. I know what happened. Foresaw it and was waiting for this moment. ” started Galaxor to say with a wink before continuing “Terrible what would've happened if I wouldn't have come. Whole cave would've fallen down. Now shush. Let's wait for their goddess. ”

With a wave of his hand, Galaxor taught the language of the dwarves to Maxima and gave her a wink.

The earth soon began to shake for a moment as the dwarves looked at each other before shielding themselves. The wall of the cave soon broke revealing the great expanse of the underground once again the surface covered in mushrooms and hanging from the wall was El’Zadir her eyes glowing white in the dark until the dust settled the obsidian skilled El’zadir was in full display looking at Galaxor she then said. “... It's been a while since i saw another divine… especially this far deep.” El looked nervous but also a bit exhausted by what Galaxor could see.

A second before the wall would collapse, Galaxor snapped his fingers and when the debris flew towards the goblin lines they disappeared…and reappeared somewhere far into the past.

“Well, hello to you too. I'd like to say the same but I've met quite a few recently. I am Galaxor, God Of Heroism, Knowledge and Time. ” he said, while approaching the goddess, his Cosmic Destroyer hanging by his side.

The dwarves seemed equally fine having shielded together as the rubble was moved El’zadir looked at Galaxor she seemed curious yet reserved by her body gesture she then said. “Galaxor… god of heroes and time?” She was curious, he seemed more like a warrior war god, a hero yes but a lord of time seemed unlikely.

“Aye, and knowledge too. All three are timeless. Time to spend heroing, knowledge to know when to stop and let others take the mantle. ” replied Galaxor with a grin. He knew how mismatched his domains of power seemed, yet, they all were linked to one another.
She raised an eyebrow in confusion but she then gave a nod and a light bow saying. “Well…my name Is El’zadir goddess of civilization and mother of the Dwarves you see around…” she said with education and politeness something she exuded well. Compared to herself who looked more like she went through a few battlefields. With the introduction she then replied. “Well god of heroes… and goblins…” She smiled to then for some reason her presence made the goblins trust her it seemed to be her divine aura she then continued. “What brings your group to the 13 dwarven kingdoms in the underground.”

“Civilization? Interesting domain you’ve chosen for yourself. Goblins are just one of my mortal creations, I have made humans too. The tall ones, I’m sure you’ve seen them. ” replied Galaxor as he turned towards Maxima and the goblin group.

“Off you go back home. I’ll handle things here. ” and before they could reply, they’ve all been teleported back to the Goblin Underground.

“Well, some of their people have gone missing while going in your tunnels and while they wanted to initially send an exterminator squad to eliminate whatever manner of beasts inhabited these tunnels, I advised them to check it up themselves. Quite strange it took them so long to meet your dwarves after you broke a hole in their ceiling. ”

“That was due to the ongoing war… at least that is finally ending.” El’zadir replied to his statement of the ceiling it was more in her panic she dug quite deep as well after a moment of pondering she then said to her dwarves. “Return to your homes for now this might be a meeting that takes time…” With a bow they began to leave as well going down the tunnel to the ground floor access she then asked. “Choose? no i was born to my domain… without much of a choice or…” she looked at her hands again they were roughed by time but she pondered as well who she was still.

“Aye, it’s ending now. Asheel and I killed off one of their leaders and Sylia destroyed a large part of their forces…not to say that she sealed some of them off in the blood ocean. From what I saw, they’re building their own civilization there. ” said Galaxor in reply before raising an eyebrow at El.

“I think you misunderstand godhood a bit. No offense intended, of course. But a god chooses their domain. Some do it consciously, as I did with my knowledge and time domains and some do it instinctively, like heroism was for me. Maybe some part of the divine energy that created you came from countless mortal civilizations on Galbar that were, are and will be. You might’ve had the domain of evil or death or disease or anything that comes associated with civilizations, yet…you’ve become the essence of civilization itself. ” replied Galaxor to her pondering.

“Seems like how i began…” She said with a light smile after a moment of silence she then continued. “So would the greatest of heroes quench his thirst in a dwarven feast or would you believe yourself too busy?”

“Busy? What’s busy for divine beings? Lead the way, El’zadir and I’ll bring some of my own drinks, if that’s alright. Trust me, they’re divine. ” said Galaxor in reply while adding a wink at the end.

El’zadir smiled saying “You remind me of a friend at times…” she soon lead the way to her holy site in the citadel of Donoroll a grand fortress made out of carved stone constructed north of the tree of life a grand city underground in the cavern layers. Inside the grand citadel the feast halls were readied and with El’zadir’s arrival together with Galaxor the halls soon were filled with drinks made from rock nut ale or what other plants they could brew.

Many plates of food distributed against the giant hall able to accommodate one thousand individuals echoing through the halls were songs made by singers, composers and their instruments. “Hope you don’t mind, my children are rather festive…” El’zadir commented as both were seated at the end of the grand hall.

“I’m everyone’s friend, El’zadir. Part of the whole hero thing. ” replied Galaxor with a wink before following El.

As Galaxor was led through the citadel, he waved, smiled and on occasion threw stone tables with information about mining and what plants can be used to make what, translated in dwarvish around to onlookers. All the information that was given, was collected by the GU over time and as it is with information, it is meant to be shared.

“I hope you don’t mind. I spread some tidbits of information my GU gathered to your dwarves. They have been around since…the beginning of Galbar as for the “children”, well, they’re mortals. It is in their nature to revel. ” said Galaxor, apologetic in tone before smiling at the mortals around and then with a wink to El, he added “Especially in the company of two divine beings. ”

Afterwards, he lifted a hand up, and bottles of RALK appeared on the tables, one for each dwarf. “Drink up! It 's divine. ” shouted Galaxor for all to hear.

“Ralk?” El’zadir looked confused as her children would start drinking many of then liking it she soon shrugged saying. “Drink what the gods do…” she soon took a large swig out of her bottle and then said. “Rather bland for my taste…”

Galaxor laughed out loud at El’zadir’s obvious distaste for the drink. “You’re the only one to think so, El’zadir. Look around at your people. They’re enjoying it. ” and true enough, it seemed that everyone was loving the new drink introduced to their city.

“Now, as much as I love a good feast…shall we speak business? ” said Galaxor, suddenly serious.

She gave a shrug to the drink, it was probably because she was used to less divine drinks. Hearing of him turn more serious she gave a nod saying. “Yes i believe so… what brought your people to my peoples land’s i may have been underground for too long so i don’t know the situation above.”

“The beasts that attacked your people came from other divine beings. They were servants basically of some other divines that wished to consume this world… ” started Galaxor before telling the whole story of the Outer Gods to El'zadir.

“...and so I killed one of them. Now, regarding the Goblin Underground. Maxima has received reports that goblins have gone missing in the tunnels that lead to your people. ‘Thus, she came to investigate. ” concluded Galaxor before taking another sip of RALK.

El’zadir pondered hearing the story of the outer gods. She somewhat felt their presence but she was always busy until recently. Her mind seemed to blank for a moment as she pondered again at her situation looking at the metal plate reflecting her. She felt empty thinking who she was or even what to do. She sighed for a moment until hearing the reason why Galaxor’s people came and she gave a nod replying. “I see…” She soon gestured to a servant approaching replying. “queen mother anything you wish? El’zadir gave a nod replying. “Yes do you have reports of goblins from the other kingdoms?” The dwarf gave a nod before stopping and saying. “Goblins?” El’zadir gave a nod using her powers to show the image of a goblin before vanishing and cleaning her hand from the dust she attracted to make it, seeing it he gave a nod commenting. “Let me see…” he soon went to a corner where a shelf was picking a scroll, something that made El’zadir a bit confused, approaching she said. “When did you get that?” He smiled replying. “[color=blue]Some lads figured how to make this my queen mother…[/blue]” El took a bit back thinking for a moment before giving a nod as he read some of the pages the dwarf looked less happy by the moment before coughing and saying. “Ahh…. my queen… according to reports involving foreign attacks they were… killed… El immediately rose up in worry turning to Galaxor saying. “Forgive me Galaxor i was not aware of this…” She lowered her head in a humbling way with a bow.

The moment El mentioned that the goblins were indeed dead, a few of the bottles from the table shattered and then transformed into dust. “I do not approve of the killing of my subject, El’zadir. I care not what mortals do to one another but those goblins were under my direct protection and out of all of them, two of the children had very interesting futures ahead of them. Futures which I intended to watch over. ” said Galaxor, his anger obvious on his face.

“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t erase your kingdoms from the face of Galbar. ” he added, as he stood up from the chair. Almost immediately, the Cosmic Destroyer, godbane artefact and killer of the Egrioth appeared on Galaxor’s waist.

El’zadir still bowed, while raised from her chair in humbleness and apology. “Still forgive me for my lack of awareness for my children” turning to the hall that was silent and seeing the two she soon raised shouting “OUT!” her voice was commanding something that exhibited royal command divine, making the room quite quickly empty of people.
Once the room was empty she sighed, turning to him she bowed again she didn’t display much emotion but she was nervous and anxious a fight between gods could be disastrous especially with a deity that seemed more specialised in fighting it could result in calamity against her even if mass destruction is made she could rebuild but the thought sickened her in part she soon replied. “I can’t bring them back that much is true Galaxor… Albeit following ancient rules I believe I am at your service until this blood debt is paid.” But even if he seeks revenge she would be ready to fight for her children’s safety even if foolish.

Upon seeing El’zadir’s obvious…fear at a fight, Galaxor’s heroic aura exploded with divine power breaking a few tables under the weight of it . “Stand your ground and stop giving me blood debt bullshit! ” Galaxor’s voice rang through the nearby tunnels, creating a small earthquake as it did.

With a deep breath, Galaxor’s aura receded and the Cosmic Destroyer became small once more.

“I care not for your lack of awareness, they are your mortals. You should’ve taught them better. I refuse your blood debt, yet I shall take a boon to be bestowed upon the Goblin Underground as payment. Refuse and I shall bury your kingdoms as payment. ”

El’zadir held her ground covering her face from the blast of wind, once cleaning herself she kept a worried expression only ending when hearing he talk once again about blood debt she soon looked confused. “That… is literally what you asked… why are yo…” She replied, stopping for a moment, freezing in place for a solid minute thinking of something after the moment she then said. “That is only fair Galaxor whatever you wish to give to your goblins I shall give”

“Careful with whatever I wish, El’zadir. I could ask you to bring back all the dead to life. It is within our power, as you know but it's a costly business, in terms of power. My goblins require one thing currently, more than anything. Civilization in the style of government. Currently it’s Maxima taking all the decisions and while she’s more than capable…the Goblin Underground is growing exponentially. If my predictions of the future are correct, in the next 3 years, they’ll reach your kingdoms. So, teach my people the benefit of a government and how to make it work while also…agree that the dwarves will not harm any goblin that doesn’t deserve it. ” said Galaxor, as he slowly calmed down, before adding “Maybe an alliance between the mortals would be useful. ”

El’zadir seemed pensive, mumbling out loud. “Well i could ask death to bring your boys back but i haven’t seen him in aeons at this point…” She soon stopped thinking after a pause she soon answered him. “for what you requested I shall do, it's only fair.”

“Death? Is he even still around? Ever since I’ve helped him make the humans, he went away. But, thank you and I apologise for my previous outburst. ”

She shook her head replying. “No Galaxor I am more at fault for the actions of those I rule… As the mother of civilization, the law and justice of the system dictates I am at fault for what happened. You have the right to be angry and even have the right to strike me down… Even if… ” She gashed perside, feeling pain again from her closed wound she hasn’t focused on healing it much since the attack. “Even if i would not like it…”

“If you let your mistakes define you, you shouldn’t be a divine, El’zadir. Learn from them and fix your own mess. As for striking you…there’s no joy or honour in striking someone weaker than me nor there’s no logic in it. ” he replied, shaking his head.

She pondered for a moment what he said, giving a nod she then said. “I see… well would you guide me to your people for me to fix my mistakes?

“Gladly.” said Galaxor as he teleported both of them to the Goblin Underground.

The Goblin underground was something El’zadir only saw once cracking her knuckles she soon said. “Right… Time for me to do this. It's been a while…” and with that she started working immediately on what Galaxor asked of him. Beginning to create the laws and governmental structures that she thought would be good for a centralised state and kingdom. The state apparatus creating a sort of autocratic state centred around Maxima the ruler of the goblins, the bureaucracy helping ease most of the problems. But at the same time El’zadir worked in repairing and increasing relations with the goblins and dwarves teaching the goblins commerce and trade with the 13 kingdoms that lived down below. With an apology gift for Maxima and Galaxor being an artefact she made a sceptre made out of pure gold with the help of her children encrusted with a ruby, with green and yellow diamonds flanking it crafted with the greatest of care and quality.

---

The knock came at the door. Again. Althea listened, staring blankly up at her dark ceiling.

She told herself she was comfortable in her bed. Under cold sheets that never seemed to warm. She didn't feel like getting up or maybe it was because she didn't know if she could at that moment. So she remained silent and listened to the knocking. They became louder and louder until her walls quaked, threatening to come down before the door would give in. She didn't really care if they did. Maybe they would crush her. Then blessed silence came and she shut her eyes out of mere exhaustion. Yet, she really didn't want to sleep. She knew what waited in unconsciousness. Nothing was ever restful anymore.

Vaesna’s slurred speech broke the silence, “Altheaaaa,” she called, her voice muffled through the door and the emptiness between them. “I knowww you're inthere. Come,” a quick pause, “Come on out pleaseeee.” Her friend cooed. How long had it been since this routine of theirs had started? In the early days she would open the door, they would talk, even go out to a few taverns. But as time went on, Vaesna indulged in too much drink and Althea…

Althea stopped caring.

Now Vaesna would visit at least once a night, sometimes more, sometimes every other day. She wasn’t sure anymore. She had lost the notion of the days passing in that dark, cold room. Her talks with Vaesna had become terse- brief and when her friend started showing up drunk, Althea began to ignore her. For no other reason then she couldn’t be bothered to deal with it and she knew that was wrong of her. She knew and yet Vaesna still came. She was stubborn. They both were.

Althea knew why she came. She knew it wasn't out of annoyance but out of some sort of misguided love. But the Syllianth also knew she was quite unlovable. Still she came and Althea knew she was terrible for just laying there. Not even making the effort. But what was the point? Drink didn't comfort her. She wasn't worthy of companionship. If she had given any sort of a damn, she'd get up and tell Vaesna to her face that she was better off without her. She could go drown herself in drink and Althea could just be left alone. It would be better that way. She wrapped her sheets tighter around her thin frame.

“Come on Althy… You can’t,” another pause, “We can’t- Can’t go on liek this.” Althea heard a soft slump against her door. “I miss you. Let’s just talk? Please?” The words washed over Althea and she opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling again. If there was but one person she could blame for all of this, it would be herself. She knew she had to get up. She knew it deep down. She began to move with sluggish intent. No sunlight and hardly any food would do that to any Syllianth.

She had just gotten to a sitting position on the bed when Vaesna’s voice began again, “Fine. Don’t Answher me!” She shouted, “Why do you- doyou hate me?” Vaesna cried.

“I don’t…” Althea said in a hoarse, quiet voice as Vaesna’s footsteps carried off. Away.
Yes. She only hated herself as she laid back down on her bed.

---

Vaesna didn’t return the next day. Or the day after that. When her friend hadn’t come back to her door on the fourth day, Althea knew something was wrong. It was her fault of course, she should have gotten up. Should have tried harder. Projected her voice. She had just let her walk away when the only thing Vaesna had ever done was try.

So on that fifth day, Althea had gotten out of bed. Had found some clean clothes. Had even opened her curtains just a tad, for the sunlight- When there came a knock at the door. She found in herself the strength to walk over and fling it open before the knocks could even stop.

“Vaesna, I-” She began but stopped as soon as she saw who it was. Ophelia, hand poised to knock and mouth open as if she was going to say something. Her nimble and rather regal looking friend lowered her hand and put it over her other hand down at her waist. She wore a cream colored dress with green ribbons. Her green hair was held in a bun, with several strands streaming down her neck and cheeks. Her small face held such sadness and her bright green eyes were red ringed, as if she had been crying.

“What’s… What’s wrong?” Althea asked. In truth she had barely seen Ophelia since the siege and a part of her felt regret at that. She had just been so busy and then, that slow spiral into the dark.

Ophelia cleared her throat. “I’ve been trying to find you, Althea. I didn’t know where to look. You didn’t tell anyone where you were moving too and you moved so far away.’ She blurted all at once, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. ‘And then I began to look around these parts and some small gobbo told me he saw- he saw- he knew some Syllianth lived here and should try this building and-”

Althea cut her off, “Ophelia. What’s wrong?”

Ophelia looked away from her, large tears brimming her eyes. “Vaesna has departed this life.”

“W-What?”

“I’m so sorry, Althea.” Ophelia moved closer to her but she took a step back, shaking her head.

“No. No. That’s not possible. We don’t- She was just here. Just the other day. She’s alive.”

“Althea…”

She pushed past Ophelia and into the dim hall. “Vaesna!” She called. “Vaesna, come out now. I-I’m here! I don’t hate you!” She felt her knees buckle as the world grew so dark. “Please.” she said, as the tears came. Two warm arms wrapped around her.

“It’s okay. It’s alright.” Ophelia said, moving a hand to stroke her hair.

“It’s not okay. It’s not alright.” her voice broke as she cried. “I should have tried. I should have-” she choked out. Why didn’t she try?

Ophelia just held her, stroking her hair with gentle fingers. She was so undeserving of it. But that selfish part of her, it craved that touch. It needed it. So she leaned into it, pressing herself tight against Ophelia’s chest.

After some time, she asked, “Do you think, when we die, Allianthé forgives us?”

“Do you seek her forgiveness?” Ophelia asked in return.

“I don’t know. She instilled within us that life is precious. That we should not take it. That we needed to protect it. But, how could we have protected life during that… time, without taking it? I have felt like my heart was being cloven in two and now Vaesna is gone, and I fear it has shattered irreversibly.” she breathed, waiting for the reprimand. Waiting for Ophelia to cast her away. Sometimes you couldn't fix a broken thing.

Ophelia did not say anything for a moment and then she said, “Althea, those were monsters. You saved lives by fighting them. If the Goddess deems you a sinner for that, then she is not worthy of our worship. You must not blame yourself. For any of it. Now come. I am going to make you a meal and you will come live with me and my family. No arguments.”

Althea did not disagree, even if she felt like she should. Like she should protest and tell Ophelia she was the monster. That Manda might be alive if she had acted differently. That she should have died and Vaesna. Oh gods, Vaesna was dead. When Ophelia at last grabbed her hand and pulled, she almost resisted. Almost but she let herself be led away from the dark. She knew there would be more to say, even if what was said threatened to have her join Vaesna, wherever she had gone. She didn’t know what she was going to do but when she took that first step out into the sunshine, perhaps a small part of her wanted to heal.

Perhaps.

Business concluded with heroes from closeby and afar, Galaxor was…bored. So bored in fact that it was time for him to do something he meant for a long, long time. Meet the neighbours. Luckily, Maxima needed his help and he met El’zadir with whom Galaxor had a few interesting conversations while also setting up an alliance between the 13 kingdoms and the Goblin Underground.

Why he insisted on calling it Goblin Underground was a mystery to Galaxor. At the last consensus, which Rajesh happily conducted, there were sixty-seven thousand and four goblins. Not to mention the other people who heard of the Library or simple merchants and travellers. It was not an “underground” anymore but a full fledged civilization of goblins.

Pondering a bit about it, Galaxor decided that he will need to have Maxima change the name to something more fitting. Something new and exciting. Something knowledgeable and timeless. Yet, Galaxor knew not what that would be. So many possibilities, so many names to choose from and each, if the future was correct, would influence civilization in one direction or the other.

Eventually, Galaxor stopped thinking about it and actually did what he should’ve done already. With a puff, Galaxor appeared above ground. Close enough to the Tree for him to be seen clearly by anyone. With a breath, Galaxor let out a divine pulse of energy which could be felt by divines or heroes. A sort-of, beacon and as well, an invitation for conversation. It was just polite, after all.

The first to arrive was a Syllianth bearing a staff of wood and divinium intertwined. Her eyes were different though. Divine, green glow emanated from them and her aura was more akin to that of a goddess than of a mortal. She smiled as she saw the great form of Galaxor. “Welcome to Arbor.” Two voices spoke. The mortal’s voice was almost completely buried underneath the voice of Allianthé. “I am Allianthé, goddess of life. I would meet you myself but circumstances prevent me. It is a pleasure to meet you-” She motioned over at the new god with a hand, making room for his introduction if he so wished.

Galaxor looked at the women that arrived and nodded at her. It was obvious what was happening even before she said it, Allianthé took over the mortal which was dangerous in Galaxor’s opinion. With his chrono-eye, he looked at her and saw how her potential futures changed and warped by this action.

Nonetheless, he bowed to the possessed mortal and shrunk down to her size. “Well met, Allianthé. It was about time we met. I am Galaxor, god of heroism, knowledge and time. ” Galaxor said in his most charming tone, each time he mentioned one of his domains, his aura changed, letting out a glimpse of the Aspects of each of them.

“Well met, Galaxor.” Allainthé-Irrithae said. Roots and trees emerged from the soil beneath, forming several crude but equal looking chairs and a table in the middle. “Please, be seated.” They said as they took place themselves. “There will be refreshments shortly. Another will be joining us as well. Aenos is the heroic protector of Arbor. Irrithae, this mortal vessel that I am using, is my prophet and the steward of Arbor.” They explained. “Now, you said it was due time for us to speak. So I assume you have your reason to be here?”

Taking a seat, Galaxor nodded in thanks to the goddess before waving his hand and a couple of bottles of RALK appeared on the table, alongside a few delicacies of the Goblin Underground. A bit self-conscious of who he is talking to, Galaxor made sure only to summon forth only plant-based food.

“I've got refreshments sorted, delicacies of my mortals and bottles of RALK. A truly divine drink and all natural. ” he said as he poured two glasses of RALK, one for each of them.

“Well met, Irrithae if you're in there, as I assume, Allianthé didn't fully suppress your will. Onto business?” asked Galaxor as he took a few sips of the drink.

“Very well. First off, I'd like to thank you for the help with the Egrioth. Your swamp slowed down him, and his army long enough for Asheel and I to bring him down. ” started Galaxor as he bowed his head in thanks before continuing “As you're probably well aware, my goblins live underground. Well, the goblins I personally oversee. The Goblin Underground is the metropolis where they live and its placement is…right under Arbor. In fact, many of the roots of the tree are part of the city. ” With another sip, Galaxor waved his hand and a book with moving images appeared, each imagine showcasing a part of the GU where the roots could be seen, treated with utmost respect, in real time.

“My GU is anxious about going above ground, seeing that they've lived their whole existence down there and that they don't know how your subjects would react if they knew their whereabouts for you see..” he continued as the book changed images to show the Dwarf Incident where multiple goblins were executed by dwarves by unknowingly going into their territory.

“My will is not suppressed, I assure you Lord Galaxor.” Only one voice spoke: Irrithae the mortal. Then she frowned as she absorbed the knowledge. “The existence of goblins below Arbor is no new knowledge to us.” Allianthé-Irrithae resumed. “We were aware of their existence in the Divinium mines. However the actions of these dwarven kingdoms are uncalled for. Death… why is it always resorted to so quickly?” They said as they carefully sipt the RALK as they let the question sit for a moment. “I can assure you that Arbor does not resort to such barbaric practices so fast. Your… GU can rest assured. Arbor would treat them justly and fairly.”

Amelia then appeared upon the scene. The only true mortal around, she was taken aback by the sheer presence of both Galaxor and the influencing aura of Allianthé. She stopped in her tracks and nearly dropped the wooden plate, holding simple cups and teapot. “It’s okay, Amelia.” The singular voice of Irrithae said. “You can come.” The young, elven girl did as asked and put down the teapot. Her reasonable, mortal fear telling her to get the hell out was easy to recognize. She was looking like a doe in headlights.

With a nod to Irrithae, Galaxor listened to Allianthé. “Their goddess, El’zadir said something similar to that. She apologised for what might’ve sparked a war between mortals. I’m glad to hear your agreement on the matter. ” with another sip, Galaxor looked straight at Allianthé, no longer just spending his time looking at the landscape.
“I understand violence better than most, is it, after all, the most common way heroes are born ‘alas, those mortals were under my protection and not fighters. Children, explorers, families that wanted to colonise the great underground. ” continued Galaxor as the book before them started showing pictures of the goblins that were killed.

Before Galaxor could say something else, Amelia showed up and almost dropped the wooden plate that she was carrying. Poor mortal, Galaxor thought. Not everyday one interrupted two divine beings during their business deals.

“Don’t be afraid, mortal. Take a seat with us. Have a drink. RALK is…divine. ” said Galaxor with a kind smile towards her before looking at her with his chrono-eye…and the things he saw put a frown on his face. Out of all the possible futures, not one was not filled with destruction, darkness and danger and yet in all of them, she proved herself to be quite powerful.

“Oh my’. Your future is interesting. I hope you don’t mind, Allianthé, but I’ll keep an eye on this one. ” said Galaxor, quickly hiding his frown.

Allianthé found it strange that a god would come to entreat another divine over the simple matter of a city. Surely mortal diplomats could come to petition their peers at Arbor. No divine protection of gift was asked yet. Before she would’ve been patient and waited to see what Galaxor truly wished to talk about. Not anymore. “It is a shame. Though I hope peace and prosperty will flow forth from the tragedy. It is good that you have come though, god of heroism. I do have a handful of requests.”

As the goddess started speaking, Amelia carefully approached. The idea that a god somehow saw that she had an interesting future made her excited and fearful at the same time. Especially as she herself had no idea what to do. She served the tea at best of her ability, but before she could sit she heard the voice of Allianthé in her mind: Remember your place, little mortal. It was not said with any malice or judgement. It was a warning. You are a cupbearer. A noble start but it makes you as of now unfit to sit with gods. Hurry away now, and reflect upon what was said here. Amelia did not need to be told twice.

“First, I ask all gods that I meet to fill in a shrine at the Tree of Life. In a way it is a temple to the Khodex and I would wish mortalkind to know all the divine.” Allianthé-Irrithae said. “My traditional second request is for some sort of a boon, blessing or sacred mark in Arbor. Others have done so before you. However, I would ask something different of you. This vessel that I use will one day reign over a polis of great proportions, housing millions.” Irrithae’s voice began to falter. She did not know that this was her destiny and to hear her goddess speak of it, a myriad of thoughts overwhelmed her. Allianthé’s voice remained steadfast. “I am hoping that you could offer aid to a hero on their destined quest. She needs to be educated but also experience first hand what it means to rule. To offer guidance where it is most needed. To demand… sacrifice.”

With a laugh at Amelia and wink, Galaxor said, as she left “Oops, you heard her but do call upon me later, if you wish. You'll be fun to watch. ”

Turning once more to Allianthé, Galaxor nodded at her requests.

“Ah. You've read my mind. I've heard from your elves about the shrines and I didn't want to impose and ask about it directly, but yes. I'd like to do that. May I ask, if a room could be offered instead of a simple shrine? My shrine will offer mortals what they so much wish for, a glimpse at their future or access to talk with their younger selves. ” started Galaxor before making another RALK bottle appeared and continuing “Of course, the future's not set in stone but it'll give them hope. Surely you understand how important hope is, as for your second request…allow me. ”, Galaxor stood up and touched Irrithae’s shoulder and in a flash, they both teleported deep, very deep within Galbar. Right upon the grand staircase leading to the Library.

A group of elves, recognising Irrithae, quickly tried to shuffle back to the end of the long line of novices-to-be, not wanting to be recognised by the envoy of the goddess.

“Behold. The Great Underground Library. One of my holy temples and as you can see, a quite popular spot for mortals who make it here. We've taken a shortcut, otherwise, it would've taken months to get here. ” As he talked, the line pushed forward as a few beastfolk passed by, rejected by the Library's grand-sage.

Allianthé-Irrithae shook their head for a moment as they were teleported to the Great Underground Library. Allianthé was very quick to recover though: “For the shrine, I am afraid that I must insist upon a simple shrine within the Tree of Life. I believe us peers, all of us. Offering more to another would have too much of a symbolical impact. That being said, Arbor is a city that is about to bloom in exceptional ways. If you so wish, you can create a temple there as well.” She explained, as she left her opinion on hope unspoken. In truth she cared very little for hope. It was such an ephemeral concept, and it could so easily be conflated with desperation into outright lies.

“As for Irrithae’s education, I thank you for accepting. Though I must say that you may have acted overly hasty.” Irrithae’s voice began to recover from the sudden shock. “Irrithae had friends and loved ones she had to say her goodbyes to. Alas.” Allianthé dove into Irrithae’s mind: Show me to whom you wish to say your goodbyes. They shall receive the message from me.

“Goddess this is too fast!” Irrithae spoke out when she was partially released from Allianthé’s influence. “I still have Amelia and the other mages to guide! The druids will need to know where to grow the Housetrees. Oh goddess, I have yet to talk to the fire girl! There is too much-”

The future is more pressing than the present, Irrithae. The goddess spoke like a stern mother would address her child. It broke Irrithae’s defiance instantly. Then she softened: I understand that this must be hard for you, to fall from one world into another. Trust that it is necessary. Have faith, in yourself and in me. She let the words sink into the Syllianth girl before resuming her control.

“Come find me in the Tree of Life Galaxor, so we may finish our dealings.” Allianthé-Irrithae said, before she fully released her control over her prophetess.

“I merely wish for both of you to know what I can offer before…I ask for payment, Allianthé. Irrithae may go back to her mortal business and to get prepared for what's to come. If she wishes to learn, this is the best place to do so. I'll personally guide her when she'll be ready for it. But she needs to first prove herself. I won't accept just anyone. As you can see, people are turned back even here, months after they travelled. ” said Galaxor with a smile before looking right in Irrithae’s eyes and saying “So. Elf. Tell me what makes you worthy?”

Irrithae looked down at her own feet. Of course she was afraid. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When duty calls, she knew she had to answer. She couldn’t do it while afraid, or excited, or sad. She had to stay calm and in control of herself. So that is what she did. Then she looked up again at Galaxor. “I am the first Prophetess of the goddess of Life.” She declared. “I govern the holy city of Arbor. It was my steadfast hand that returned order from chaos when my Lady sealed herself within the Tree of Life. I wrote the rules that govern the access to the Wellspring, and I am an Arch-Druid of the Font. Every week new ways of greensinging are created by me, or because of me.”

Those were many titles and many achievements, but she already felt like they paled compared to a god. So she switched her tactic: “And I am the key to attaining whatever boon you wish from the goddess.” It was a daring call to make, but when she was Allianthé-Irrithae she could glean some of the thoughts of her Lady. Lord Galaxor did not come for idle chats. He wanted something. A temple, to begin with. But something else as well. Something that required a divine hand.

Listening to her titles, Galaxor shook his head. It was so typical of mortals to state their titles and say how great they were, a crime which Galaxor himself was guilty of on multiple occasions. Of course, he knew better now.

“Your titles and achievements mean little to me, elf. I didn’t ask you for a biography, but to tell me why would I want you to learn at my Library. What makes you worthy of the tutelage of the greatest hero and sage there is?” started Galaxor before being cut-off by Irrithae’s last words which only made Galaxor laugh out loud.

“You’re bold, I give you that. Bargaining with the powers of your goddess not your own. Now you have forced Allianthé’s hand for I can simply say no, unless I receive something grand in exchange, not what I initially wanted. So, let me ask you again, what makes you special? How are you different from everyone else here? Are you stronger? Are you faster? Do you know knowledge that none other knows? ” asked Galaxor.

What Galaxor wanted was simple, yet most of the time, hard for mortals to understand. Especially mortals so close to their creators. Galaxor wanted to know if she wanted to be taught and it wasn’t just a command given by her goddess. Is it truly her will that drives her to learn or was it Allianthé that pushed this mortal hero on this path?

It was… strange to see the God of Heroes have such little insight. Irrithae knew she wasn’t talking with her thoughts. She was Allianthé’s willing vessel. Her bargain was not forcing the goddess hand. Alas, even that wasn’t enough. For a moment Irrithae questioned what even could be the right reason. Then it struck her.

“Because I want to make sure that millions don’t have to suffer.” The idea struck her like lightning yet made her feel ashamed at the same time. “I’m not going to kill. I’m not going to slay some beast.” The idea was part genius and part foolish, for the god might as well see it as dull. “You ask why I want to become the person my goddess needs me to be, it’s because I know what will happen when I fail. Squalor, starvation, injustice, and all the death and ruin that follows.” And in the depth of her mind, another reason echoed through. Not an altruistic one. She imagined the millions of Arbor chanting her name. She would be their queen and attain glory. Not by killing some beast but by offering the masses prosperity.

“And you ask me how I am special, how I’m different? I’m not stronger, or faster but I am smarter. Not with a blade or any other weapon. I am smarter because I realize that if I want my reign to attain the greatness that it needs to, I need to know more. More about things most heroes would put by the wayside: law, government, trade, architecture and art. That is how I am different.” When she finished her speech her heart was racing. It took true courage for her to keep her eyes on Galaxor. However, she also felt like it wasn’t just her seeing him right now. A small, greenlike presence in the back of her mind was about to witness what came next.

Keeping his chrono-eye trained on her, Galaxor watched as her future changed with every word she said and emotion displayed. She saw the crowds cheering her name, the long nights spent over war maps and some romance sprinkled in between.

With a neutral expression on his face, Galaxor nodded at the elf. “Aye, you'll do. ” he simply said as he snapped his fingers, teleporting them high above the Tree of Life exactly when the sun was slowly rising over the horizon. Before she could react, Irrithae would notice that she's floating beside Galaxor.

“I thought a change of scenery would be nice. Look at that. Those are the people you're ready to protect. Keep this memory fresh in your mind and you'll do well. ” he said, after Irrithae calmed down from what must've been pretty jarring for a mortal.

Below them, elves, goblins and other races slowly woke up. Thousands of souls. All living is peace.

With a wink to Irrithae, Galaxor showed her small glimpses of a potential future for Arbor and it was a beautiful sight. Tears of joy formed on her eyes as she watched the futures infold and fade again. This was what she would create. She relished the sight for as long as she could but she was never truly a dreamer like this. “Okay.” She finally said. “Please, take me back. I need to get started on making these visions reality.” She asked, her tone polite but clearly duty bound.

With another snap, they were back at the table. Cups of RALK appearing in their hands.

“Now that you've proven yourself and you know what will happen, to a certain degree, I think it's time to talk about my price. I can accept a shrine and maybe a temple when Arbor grows.” said Galaxor with a smile before adding with a chuckle, “A shrine would have the same effect, just the queues might be longer. ”

After a brief pause, he continued “As for the price of your…tutelage. Allianthé, what can you offer me? I'm thinking of something that will make the travel time between the surface and the Library shorter. As much as I like the challenges people face to get to it, there are people who would be perfect students ‘alas unable to pass all the trials, especially the physical ones. ”

In an instance the young Syllianth became Allainthé-Irrithae again. “I ask only a simply shrine, a representation of yourself however you so wish, to fill an alcove in the Tree of Life. That is all that would be necessary.” They said, their voices unified once more. Then Irrithae made a flourish with her hand as if it was nothing.

Deep below the earth a new life form emerged. Large worms began to burrow deep through rock and soil.

“You may wish to inform your goblin population that they’ll be encountering the burrower-worms quite frequently. As they are naturally attracted to them - though not as food, I can assure you. Their nests will be close to the Goblin Underground. They will not be submissive. It will be to your aspirants to figure out if the worm is heading for its nest or going out to forage. Your aspirants will also have to rely on their agility or their wits to get on the worms. This seems like a fitting alternative, don’t you think?”

In truth Allianthé would’ve wanted to make the challenge as easy as possible but she knew enough about Galaxor that he wouldn’t accept such a simple challenge. “I hope this satisfies you?”

Galaxor teleported out immediately underground and saw one of these Burrow-Worms in action, cutting through earth, rock and more with ease and sure enough, they were close to the Goblin Underground. With a mental message to Maxima to warn her and instruct what the goblins are supposed to do with these new creatures, Galaxor returned to Allianthé.

“Apologies for my disappearance. I only wished to see these creatures in action myself. Beautiful creatures, thank you, Allainthé. With payment received, Irrithae, once you’re ready just shout my name in front of the shrine I’ll make and you’ll be transported to the Library where you’ll start your training. ” said Galaxor with a smile before continuing “Allainthé, I shall make the shrine and if you’re still up for it, I’ll send Maxima, the leader of the Goblin Underground up here to meet whoever you deem fitting to negotiate a formal alliance while also some sages to my shrine…to help people process what they’ll see. ”

That would mark the first time another god’s priesthood would enter Arbor. Far away, within the tree, a shudder travelled over Allianthé’s spine. “It is my advice that Irrithae finishes her studies before such an alliance is discussed.” They said in perfect unison now. “Arbor works under strict rules of war and conflict. Free trade, free travel, these are things that face no injustice within Arbor but an alliance would suggest aiding one another in times of war. Such an agreement will require the proper stipulations of which I can only trust Irrithae.” After such a winded speech, and such a winded conversation Allianthé-Irrithae let out an almost exhausted sigh. “Forgive me but I must take my leave. I have shared control with Irrithae for too long already. It was good meeting you, Galaxor.” With that, the green glow from Irrithae vanished. But the goddess had a parting message in Irrithae’s mind: Go now. Your task is clear. Become the Steward and Diplomat Arbor needs you to be. Say your farewells, and then go forth. You will be afraid. It is a big step. Date take it with conviction.

Chuckling, Galaxor said with no anger in his voice for being rejected: “Smart move, Allianthé. There were only a very few futures where you accepted it from the get-go and none were very bright. I’ll tell Maxima that they are now allowed to come “upstairs” if they so wish. If anyone causes problems, let Maxima know and they won’t anymore. ”

With bow to Allianthé, Galaxor looked at the mortal and added with a wink, just before going to create the shrine. “We two are going to have a lot of fun. ”