Political Map

Chapter 1

“The end is nigh, ladies and gentlemen!”

Stain tried his best to push through the crowd to get a better look at things as the man on the platform spoke passionately and feverishly. There could be no doubting that he believed every word he said. And from the look of it, Stain was the sole nonbeliever in their midst. He was taking another form by employing a shapeshifting blessing bestowed by Rook, the god of deception and subterfuge.

“Judgment is coming upon us!” The man held his arms wide as he pranced about the stage, and Stain could just barely make out his features—pearly white, almost immaculate. “If you judge the world of today to the world of yesteryear, you’d have to be an invalid to say there’s a comparison. Can you truly face your ancestors and say that our people possess the same mettle they did to overcome this crisis? I look back, and I say firmly ‘no!’

“We judge a land by its leaders. The man we would call king is the youngest child, in contradiction to all ancient traditions. He rules while his elder brother yet lives, and throws him at his enemies like a hound trained to hunt,” the pale-skinned man spat as he moved about the stage wildly, squatting and leaning down to speak to his enraptured audience. “He claimed the throne by force—but not his own, oh no.” The man spread his arms out grandly.

“The bastard Argrave, born of a shameful incestuous union between the king and his niece, is naturally predisposed to malevolence. Worse yet, his soul vanished, to be replaced by another from a different world—a crueler world, divested of the common virtues all of us share. This new life surrendered his soul to all manner of vile powers. He contracted himself with evil gods like Erlebnis, barbarian elves from both the north and the far east, the monstrous cannibals of the Burnt Desert, and just of late… the squat people in the distant empire known as the Great Chu.”

The passionate speaker fell to his knees and whispered tensely, “Is it normal, I ask you, for our enemies to be left to wander freely through our borders? Is it normal for us to forsake our pantheon so freely? Is it normal, I ask you, for our king to cavort with necromantic magics powerful enough that the heroes of old are brought back from the dead, and propped up like monuments to support his claim?” 

Stain contacted Elenore covertly, informing her, “I’ve checked the crowd and marked any threats. Ready whenever.”

The speaker punched the wooden stage he kneeled across. “It’s wrong! It’s wrong, all of it!” He shouted with moving intensity. “The Kinslaying Serpent may play the egalitarian, giving more power to mayors, and nobility, and spellcasters… yet this so-called parliament is packed with sycophants who would drink his sweat if he demanded it. His maniacal sister, who earned the just punishment of dismemberment and blindness, sits atop this council, weaving all these parties in her spider’s silk. Our leadership, dear people, is inadequate. When judgment comes… we will be found wanting,” he whispered gravely.

Then, in an explosion of power, he leapt to his feet. “But even if our leaders are weak, we are still ourselves, undebased by the malevolent powers the Kinslaying Serpent would welcome into our homeland.” A fanatic glint settled into his eyes. “Before we, too, are corrupted… made a slave to the powers wracking the world… we must follow our distant ancestors, rejoining them in the afterlife.”

“Mothers!” The man shouted, pointing throughout the crowd. “Though it may pain you, you must throw your children from the highest perch, and follow them shortly thereafter. Dash the heads of your infants upon the stone. If you feel you must atone for this act, set yourself aflame. Let your pain be your bulwark as you take solace in the fact that your soul, and those of your children, will be liberated.”

“Fathers, like myself!” He continued, pulling out a blade. Stain stirred—he’d anticipated more time. “Allow me to demonstrate!” The man plunged his blade into his gut without so much as a scream. “Pierce yourself, firmly. Let the blood drain down, staining the earth. Take comfort in knowing that you still bleed red… for in time, all of our viscera shall be black and corrupted, just as the king’s.

“And if you lack the spirit to extinguish yourself…” the speaker fell to one knee. “Fight. Fight against our tyrant, to the very last man. Break your nails upon their armor, and smash your bones against their cruel whips. Hunt down those that bear rings—the mark of the Kinslaying Serpent’s taint. Kill them all. Eat their children. Make them—”

All at once, the closed venue erupted open. Argrave’s soldiers stormed in, subduing people in an efficient, pre-planned manner. The few casters that Stain had identified were subdued with Ebonice before they could get out so much as a single spell.

Meanwhile, the ringleader shouted, “The devils come! Purge yourself! This is your last chance to be free! They will not allow us the peace of death!”

He pulled free the blade from his stomach, bleeding copiously as two soldiers climbed the stage to subdue him. By the time they’d neared him, he’d already plunged it again—not his stomach, this time, but his eye. The soldiers caught his arm, dislocating it and forcing him to the floor as the other healed his wound with magic. Stain could only grimace as this whole place was quickly subjugated.

“Good work, Stain,” Elenore finally spoke in his head. “Argrave wants to hear from you in person.”

#####

Argrave leaned back in his chair when Stain finished recounting his tale. It was more than a little harrowing to hear that something like this was going on in one of Vasquer’s safest cities—Dirracha.

“Far as I know, only three died,” Stain pointed out. “Not exactly flawless, but… the problem is solved, isn’t it?”

Argrave shook his head. “That was one. One of hundreds.”

“What?” Stain laughed—not in amusement, but sheer disbelief. “Listen… the man had some pipes, but that rhetoric was hardly enough to spawn thousands of offshoots. Is… is it really Gerechtigkeit doing all of this?”

“Yeah.” Argrave ran his hand through his black hair. “The doomsday cults are one small problem of many. But the tale is completely terrifying, doubly so when someone you know gets tied up in one of them. It shakes the whole community. Then, the other moderate factions that Gerechtigkeit is busy creating seem far more reasonable by comparison.”

Anneliese leaned against the back of Argrave’s chair, and her long white hair draped over him as she placed her pale hand upon his shoulder. “Meanwhile, they have a unifying message. Argrave is distributing rings that ward away Gerechtigkeit’s mental attacks to certain people he favors. Gerechtigkeit marks those individuals as enemies to the people.”

“All the while, he causes small disruptions by unearthing small secrets.” Elenore stared out the window with calculating gray eyes. “Your contract with Erlebnis. Your parentage. They’re largely unproveable, and despite some minor deceptions, you’ve been largely of good character. Most rational people doubt all rumors of your malevolence.” She turned around. “But other leaders? People are turning spiteful toward regional administration moment by moment as they learn secrets best kept that way. And everyone desperately craves the rings that Artur is producing, to the point that violence almost feels inevitable.”

“That thing about your father’s niece is true?” Stain said in surprise. He caught an icy glare from Orion, and quicky added, “Never mind, don’t answer.” It was only when Orion retracted his cold gaze that Stain calmed himself, then continued to speak. “I will admit… things in the cities are getting very tense. It’s more violent, more polarized. Everyone’s got a common enemy, but they’re making more among themselves. I think… I think, honestly, in time, you could have a major problem on your hand. I assume you have a plan?”

He did have a plan. Argrave had thought the path to victory seemed so clear, yet now Gerechtigkeit had efficiently weaponized his solution to the problem of mental corruption. He had isolated the people who had been given the rings from the rest of society, turning them against one another.

“I want to speak to their leader,” Argrave said, looking at Elenore. “He seems the most brutally affected by Gerechtigkeit’s influence. We can learn his methods—and if not, we can learn something from the traces left in his body. We can see if the ring can bring them back to their senses, or if they’re lost forever. Until a more permanent solution is found, we need mitigation.”

Elenore nodded. “A sound enough plan. I’ll prepare the man.”

#####

“Any words for me?” Argrave questioned, looking upon the cult leader. The man looked like a pearl plucked from the ocean, almost. “You were awfully talkative a few moments ago.”

The pale leader of the cult only stared at the ground in his shackles, seemingly broken. His wounds had all been healed, but his body remained still and silent, as if there was nothing to say. He’d expected something fiery, but instead he got this nonresponsive person.

Argrave sighed, crouching down. “Alright. Raven, you can put the ring on him. Let’s see if it helps him get better.”

Raven stepped forward, but as he did, the cultist said, “If you had sought a life for you and yours, all you had to do was follow the path written long before your coming. It was ever your own will, your own two feet, that brought us to this.” The man looked up, and Argrave felt a wave of fear and panic as he saw what dwelt within.

The end. Gerechtigkeit himself.

Argrave rose to his feet and stepped back, unsure whether to fight or to run.

“You could’ve struck me down in the same fashion that led to countless lives well worth living. You could’ve raised grand cities from marble and granite and sired children that knew peace for one thousand years.” The chains around the cultist’s arms jingled as the being within craned his head to look at Argrave, with those eyes containing the very end themselves. “Yet greed is your vice, its flame fed with blood from your veins—and soon, the blood of your people. You deemed a millennium of welfare insufficient. You rolled the dice of fate, and a predetermined answer lies ahead.”

Argrave shook his head as others gathered around, ready to fight. “The cycle ends, Griffin.”

“The end has already passed you by. The currents of life, forced into a wheel, were freed of their bondage the moment you brought my sister out from Sandelabara. You and I must struggle to dictate life’s current from here.”

“Not me alone,” Argrave argued. “The world. You’ve never overcome it before, fractured. Now, it’s whole.”

“You act the leader, but a fool’s a fool, and your choice was rashly made. Immortal and mortalkind rallied on such flimsy foundation cannot compare to the millennia uncountable I have spent with nothing but time, preparing for this coming day. I shall respect your resistance with the full of my being, even still.”

Argrave stepped closer, mustering his courage. “Your sister is happy with us. She’s safe. She’s whole. We don’t have to fight.”

“Turning back is a privilege both of us are denied. You must rage against my might with equal fury, or you will be swept away in the tides of my change. There is no fuel I will not use to raise my inferno higher, and no method so low I will not stoop to grasp it. Pray that you possess equal resolve, wayward soul. If you will not do everything in the pursuit of victory, you will not achieve anything. The pigs have been fed long enough. It is past time for their slaughter.”

Argrave was about to open his mouth to ask more questions, but Anneliese stepped forward and conjured a ward. The cultist’s head was solid in one moment, and the next, exploded outward with tremendous force. Blood, brain, and fragments of skull battered against the wall and the ward. On the wall, a hauntingly masterful image of a single flame had been left behind in blood.

There could be no clearer declaration of war.

Chapter 2

“I suspect the man’s head burst into gore due to the pressure of containing Gerechtigkeit, not out of any deliberate act,” Raven said as he studied the corpse.

Anneliese looked at him as he turned the body over in his hands. “I might concur—that force, that pressure… it strained against the vessel until it could deform no more before bursting free. But how do you explain the image on the wall?”

All three of them gazed at what could only be called a painting of a fire. It lost neither shape nor color no matter how long it persisted.

“A final message, perhaps. Or a demonstration he is incapable of suppressing what he really is. Fire; uncontrolled destruction that eats all it can to grow, and leaves scars in that which it cannot burn. It may signify that preparation he so grandly boasted of.” The Alchemist raised his huge gray hand to the image, ruining the piece with a stroke of his hand. “Let this swipe of my hand demonstrate what his plan should mean to us.”

Argrave found himself clenching his hands together, and relaxed with a deliberate deep breath. Anneliese watched him, asking, “You look like you’re holding back from saying something.”

“Well.” He looked up. “It’s clear from the rumors surfacing about me that he listens to all we say.”

“And?” Anneliese raised a brow. “He is not yet here on this realm. He cannot respond to our plans as we can to his.”

“It’s not a plan, it’s…” Argrave closed his eyes, reimagining the brief exchange of words he’d had. “If that was a mere fragment of his being, I find it hard to imagine how all of us will face that.”

Raven put his huge hand on Argrave’s shoulder. “Face him as Orion did. Raging against the end, defiant in your steady pursuit of a fate unknown.”

Argrave took the rare comfort from Raven in stride, nodding until he remembered something. “We have to go see Orion,” he told Anneliese, and her eyes brightened at the reminder.

“Of course,” she nodded firmly. “He’s with his mother.”

#####

Orion sat just beside his mother, Valeria, looming over her bedside like a Great Dane beside a child. Her blonde hair was wispy, thin, and bore some signs it might never grow back in some areas. She was thin, almost dreadfully so—Argrave’s thigh might’ve been thicker than her waist. But in her sapphire-like blue eyes, there was a brightness that Argrave had never before seen, and she did not thrash at unseen demons as she had locked in the palace cresting Dirracha.

If ever there was a demonstration victory over Gerechtigkeit’s mental influence, it was this woman.

Valeria stroked the back of her son’s hand as she laid there, a faint smile on her thin, scarred lips. According to Orion, she had fully returned to her old self. The madness, which was almost assuredly inflicted on her by Gerechtigkeit, had been remedied. In particular, putting the mental-warding ring on her had essentially closed an open wound. Once closed, it allowed old scars to heal. Allowed her mind to come back to her.

Orion leaned in. “I must depart, mother. Rest well.”

“I… love you,” she said in a quiet, tender voice that sounded as if it barely escaped her lungs.

“I love you too, mother.” He kissed her on the cheek, then rose to his feet. He walked to where Argrave and Anneliese waited, then gestured for them to leave the room. They did, and his brother shut the door behind them.

“My life feels fuller than it ever has before.” Orion looked up to the skies above. “Yet concurrently, the greatest tragedy unimaginable wracks our nation. The fell judge would burn our civilization to ash. We must stand in stark defiance to that, as ever.” He looked between them. “But I speak enough. You’ve come to hear the results of my work, have you not?”

“We have,” Argrave answered with a curt nod. “And… to ask permission about a matter regarding your mother.”

Orion ran his hand down his long black beard. “Considering our recent adversities, this must be about her affliction of the mind. You would seek answers from her.” He closed his eyes. “My mother is well again. I cannot arrogantly decide on her behalf what she should do with what is hers. All I would ask, as a filial son, is that you give her time enough to be physically well. She has ceased harming herself, yet the remnants of it still persist on her, and will for some days.”

“That’s fair enough.” Argrave loosely grabbed Orion’s elbow, pulling him along. “So, let’s talk about your research into the latent bloodline.”

“Of course.” Orion walked along, taking the center between Argrave and Anneliese. “I could not, so to speak, strain my brain until I found the power of the mind that our ancestors possess. If it were to happen, it would have. Ideas eluded me, and so I sought inspiration from those of the past—those that have already done such a thing. Come—let us involve the others in this conversation.”

Argrave and Anneliese followed uneasily, knowing well what he meant when he said ‘others.’ Orion had come to value himself a good deal more, and had become far more grounded as a person. That said, he still retained certain eccentric aspects to his personality. Foremost among them was a disregard for many characteristics of other persons. This had manifested in a somewhat grandiose act of mercy.

They walked out of the parliamentary hall, heading to a circular building in the city. Orion opened it and walked aside, and familiar faces revealed themselves one after another. There was the decidedly plain-looking Boarmask, lifting his head up from a book. He was one of the original protagonists from Heroes of Berendar, yet… he wasn’t the only one, nor was he one of two.

Ruleo and Georgina looked at Argrave with considerable caution. Both former protagonists of Heroes of Berendar had opposed Argrave in one way or another, and now both worked underneath Orion in his pursuit for the secrets of their bloodline. They weren’t even the most outlandish figures present—Mial, elven daughter the Castellan of the Empty, sat at a desk with several old scrolls laid out before her. Ingo, the near-surrogate son of Castro, had also joined this motley crew. He and Orion were getting on quite well, both of them being able to relate to one another on account of their mutual experience of dealing with blessings.

Elenore made a point of having tight security. Orion himself wasn’t foolish—his own loyal guard, once the Waxknights, had been cured of their affliction in House Quadreign’s black fire. Now, these elite veterans of Felipe’s old order were a constant eye over Orion’s collection of exotic personalities. Exotic, yes… but no doubt extremely useful.

“Everyone,” Orion shouted out in his commanding voice as he entered the room. “Pay your respects to His Majesty and Her Highness.”

Without exception, all paid them some manner of respect—bowed heads at the least, and kneeling at the most. Orion looked between them all like a proud father.

“Mial.” Orion focused on the pale elf, who seemed like a kitten before him. “I instructed you to collect information from the group. Do you have it prepared?”

“I do,” Mial said, casting uneasy glances at the royal pair.

“Wonderful. Everyone, gather around.” He waved his arms all around, and slowly this disparate collection of talented strays coalesced in the center of the room. There seemed to be some small rapport between them, and they were united in their shared caution toward Argrave and Anneliese. “I shall give you the bare bones of it all. My compatriots shall fill in where my knowledge is lacking.”

Orion cleared his throat. “To begin with, I realized that we would need a foundation to build upon, as had taken place in the team guided by the late Llewellen. Ours is the only family descending from the Gilderwatchers, but not the only family descending from things not fully human.”

“Truly?” Anneliese asked in surprise. “What manner of beings?”

“Mial,” Orion looked toward her with a smile. “You took charge of this.”

The pale elf fixed her dark hair uneasily. “As you know, the… the following that my father gathered was a very disparate group, united by faith.” She couldn’t meet Argrave or Anneliese’s eyes. “It was never practiced in Vasquer, but we had those among us with the blood of drakes, dragons, or most commonly, the monstrosities native to the underground. Its stone vipers, spider matriarchs, or ancient basilisks, by example. I could not prevail upon my former flock, as my father’s death has led them to view me as a deceiver, yet I did manage to track them down for others.”

“Excellent,” Argrave praised. “What was learned from it?”

Mial finally looked up. She had her father’s purple eyes, and after the praise she managed to meet Argrave’s gaze as she said, “The method by which people achieve monster lineage is manifold. It is often a ritual done during conception, or while the child is in the womb. I’ll spare the unpleasant details, because they’re irrelevant—the power in their blood is unlocked by slaying the creatures they’re related to. In the end, it allows them to manifest powers that are sadly overshadowed by magic.”

Argrave nodded. “In the end, they have a trace amount of black blood, like myself. That was something you could’ve come to me for. I could’ve scoured the wiki to spare you some time.” He looked at Orion.

Others looked confused, but Orion knew what he spoke of and answered decisively. “You are more than busy enough as is.” Orion shook his head adamantly. “I meant to ease your burden, not add more thoughts.” He gestured back at Mial to continue.

“In the end, we narrowed it down to a family descended from dragons. It took a lot of work—from all of us.” Mial looked around at her allies. “Ruleo and Georgina tracked down living descendants. Ingo sought out methods by which they’d unlocked their power.”

Orion leaned forward and grabbed Argrave’s shoulder. “In the end, we’ve found a path, Argrave. We need only time, and we may discover a way to shield the people from Gerechtigkeit’s influence. We may be able to stop these fruitless cults, and these divisive leaders, from rending Vasquer asunder. More resources are needed, however. The fine souls that have pledged themselves as my retainer do fine work… but it cannot be compared to the totality of what you and Elenore command.”

Chapter 3

Following Orion’s presentation of his findings, Argrave gathered together all of his closest counsel to consult about the path that they needed to pursue. It came alongside reports of growing unrest—for the first time, there was what could be called a riot in one of the cities. Dirracha, underneath the yoke of Hegazar and Vera, had a brief rebellion that was quickly put down by the effective, if at times excessive, pair.

“Just from initial reports, I can tell you that seventeen people passed away in the fighting. Elsewhere, we’re getting reports that tax collectors are being turned away,” Elenore recounted.

Argrave scoffed at the ridiculousness of the sentence. “Tax collectors? Even now, with things as utterly ridiculous as they are?”

“Ridiculous? That’s naïve,” his sister chided him unabashedly. “Cities are only able to support as large a population as they are because they tax rural settlements and their harvests. With outright refusal, we could have famines on our hands. It’ll be difficult to tax those villages without the army getting involved—and as it is, the army is stretched thin. Worst of all, we have some reports from my scouts that the undead and some stray few automatons have begun to rally under the banner of silver-armored knights similar to the ones that assaulted Blackgard many weeks ago.”

“And these reports are regional. We’ve not yet begun to account for my wife’s homeland, the Great Chu,” his brother Orion said, shaking his head in dismay. “Gerechtigkeit’s mental malignance is a global phenomenon, with global consequences. We were warned of as much, yet I never dared imagine it might manifest in this callously indifferent way. This makes it all the more imperative that we choose a route to focus on to block him.”

“My people are the worst affected by this,” Durran said, looking between them all with his arms crossed. These days, he was more proudly displaying the golden tattoos on his tan arms. “The only reason that they followed my lead in joining with Vasquer was because they thought they did so as equals. With Gerechtigkeit spreading poison, more and more people are beginning to view independence as a viable option. I’m doing my best to keep them cohesive, but I can tell that things are reaching a breaking point. It doesn’t help that the solution Artur has offered is insufficient, especially insofar as my people go.”

Durran wasn’t often serious, but when it came to his people, the southern tribes of the Burnt Desert, he could lay things out very rationally and calmly.

“It’s not the Burnt Desert alone. I have petitions from the Archduchy of the North to allot more of the mental-warding rings to their people. Clearly, it’s gripped the hearts and minds of just about everyone.” Elenore nodded. “I agree that we need to shift focus, and quickly, before it all spirals out of control. The only question is which route to focus on.”

“Alright, let’s run down the list.” Argrave clasped his hands together. “Anne. You’ve been keeping apprised on the research team. Do you think that we’re anywhere near coming up with a large-scale magical solution for the problem of mental corruption?”

His queen seemed to lose herself in thought for a long few moments, biting her lip almost as though she hesitated to say something. Finally, she said with a large degree of certainty, “No. We’re no closer. Druidi—excuse me. Soul magic is particularly fussy. It needs direct interaction with the soul. The only reason the rings work is because they contact with skin, allowing it to interface with the wearer’s soul to protect it.”

Argrave accepted her expertise with a quiet nod—of everyone, she was the only one barring one other who might even approach replacing Llewellen. He looked to that second person and prevailed upon him. “Raven.”

“I concur with your queen’s assessment of things. On the other matter that you’ve had me looking into, I’ve had no luck reinforcing the White Planes.” He shook his head, having anticipated the next question. “How they were created is beyond my ken. The gods that I consult are similarly clueless. If Erlebnis’ vast store of knowledge truly has nothing on the subject, then their fate is inevitable collapse. Gerechtigkeit assaults it artfully, pulling together the thread that ties it precisely where it needs to be pulled.”

“And nothing can be made to replace it?” Argrave suggested.

“I believe its original creators, and the powers they used, have long perished.” Raven held out his too-long arm. “It is a fruitless endeavor. We are best off turning our focus to other things more worth our time.”

When Argrave turned his gaze to look at his brother, Orion, he could see some eagerness, some hunger on those stony gray eyes of his. He had been looking for other ways to demonstrate his worth besides rote battle—particularly because he finally believed he was of more use to people than simply swinging his fists and employing his blessings in stalwart defense.

“If you give me and my retainers the opportunity, Your Majesty, we can empower the Vasquer family,” Orion promised. “Even as we speak, I’ve sent out Boarmask to the distant continent where the family related to dragons lie. If he establishes contact, we can begin to make a study of how it works. If you join in on this search, Your Majesty, we can learn how to apply it to our own bloodline.”

Raven crossed his arms. “That is a fool’s errand. I have examined Argrave so utterly as to know more about him that anyone in the entire world. Additionally, I am intimately familiar with those that have assimilated the lineage of other creatures. There is nothing to unlock. There is no dormant potential,” he promised.

Argrave’s own reading into what Erlebnis had compiled on the subject of humans related to other creatures led him to conclude similar things. The bloodline of Vasquer was young, however, and wholly unique—never before had there been a species of human associated with the Gilderwatchers, and it was less than a millennia old. Erlebnis never had any contact with them. And Orion wasn’t one to make large promises without large evidence.

Orion, despite the opposition, did not grow incensed. He look at Raven and asked calmly, “What would you suggest in way of my route?”

“I would suggest what is pragmatic—preparing to do away with the Gilderwatchers. We need not genocide them as the gods of past generations intended. But we do need to remove them from Gerechtigkeit’s influence, one way or another. And if we cannot… at the very least, eliminating some of them would eliminate vast amounts of Gerechtigkeit’s influence. He would have less hold over the minds and souls of men.”

Argrave expected anger from Orion, but none came. Instead, he nodded. “I agree that we should be pragmatic.”

Everyone looked at him in some surprise.

“…but being pragmatic doesn’t mean that we should exclude all of the options,” Orion continued. “There is much sense in looking toward what needs to be done. That does not mean we should turn our eye of scrutiny away from what could be done. So, I ask you again, Raven, in respect for your prudent guidance over the years—what other routes exist?”

Raven looked to the side, thinking. “Hause remains in play. Her very role is unlocking potential. It has been, of yet, difficult to wear her down… but these new developments in mortal society can surely serve to make her reconsider her hesitance to employ her ability to bring about your full potential.”

“You have the closest ties with her,” Orion pointed out. “You would be best served in aligning her to our perspective, and our need of her abilities. Moreover, you stand as evidence of the full power of her ability, and dually a testament to the fact that your potential can be mastered and turned to a more benevolent, righteous cause. You are one of many wings that help Vasquer’s benevolent ascendancy.”

Raven scoffed. “This isn’t about your kingdom. I’ll concede your point, however. Hause…” he considered the matter. “I can speak to her. I can… be the man that I once was, even if he existed only for a brief time in my very long life.”

Orion looked back at Argrave. “And speaking to Raven’s point, he is correct—we should prepare ourself for the grim task of fighting against the Gilderwatchers ourselves. But we need not close off to other options. Countess Melanie of the Low Way has been working closely with some of the dwarves and the Sentinels of the Low Way to produce wonderful results in way of clearing pathways.”

“I am here,” Melanie pointed out, running a hand through her long red hair as she sat in the corner of the room. “You don’t need to speak about me as if I’m not.”

Orion gestured at her. “I suggest that we delegate the task of preparing for the struggle against the Gilderwatchers to Melanie. Meanwhile, I beseech you, Your Majesty… allow me to walk this route with the might of our kingdom at my back. I swear that there lies potential in it.”

Elenore frowned. “Is it, perhaps, your intuition speaking? We’ve proven as well as we could that your gut turned out to be a useless predictor. Your intuition told you that you were dying, and yet here you stand. Not that I’m complaining, of course,” she felt the need to add quickly.

Orion clenched his fist and put it against his heart. “My intuition does tell me so, but that isn’t my sole lodestar, anymore, and I would not so confidently ask Argrave to stake our futures on what may end up as a dead end. I speak on behalf of the people serving under me, all of whom possess rare intelligence, and all of whom believe that there lies a route to call upon the Gilderwatchers’ mastery of the soul.

“Some of their hearts are stained with their misdeeds of the past, be that Mial and Georgina both working on behalf of the Ebon Cult, or Ruleo in his misguided vengeance against Argrave,” Orion continued. “I believe firmly that the blackness marring their soul does not consign them to a life ill lived for its remainder. It could be said that this darkness encourages them to glow ever brighter in service to our cause, to do away with their actions in the past. That, certainly, motivates Georgina. Mial, meanwhile, seeks closure to the tale of the entity that her father was so obsessed with.” Orion shook his head. “I ramble in advocacy. My point is thus: this is very real.”

Argrave rubbed his hands together. “What would the full support of the kingdom actually entail?”

Orion said seriously, “We would need to come in contact with both the producer and the product—namely, the dragon and its descendants, respectively. The descendants merely require Elenore’s considerable information-gathering abilities. The dragon, meanwhile… we have legends alone. But each and all are remarkably consistent—unusual, insofar as these things go.”

“So…” Anneliese looked at Elenore. “We would again need Elenore’s capability. Verify fact from fiction.”

“No.” Orion shook his head. “This dragon is said to live on the moon, after having refused godhood countless times.”

“Orion…” Durran put his hand on his forehead. “The moon? Are we reading children’s fables? Worse—are we taking them seriously?” He looked at Argrave. “The Shadowlands is one matter. Don’t tell me you intend to take us to the moon, next.”

Orion shook his head. “The moon is beyond us. But we can call it back to earth. We can end its long hiatus.”

Argrave leaned back in his chair. “Melanie—get to work on securing a pathway to seek out the Gilderwatcher nexus. Raven—sweet-talk Hause, seduce her with your tragic backstory and immaculate gray skin. Everyone else… let’s give Orion’s ideas the same attention you’ve all given my ridiculous ones over the years.” He looked at him. “I trust my brother, after all.”

Chapter 4

Though Argrave had said not long ago that he trusted his brother, now that his intentions were clear and they’d all agreed to help Orion on his search, he did consult two encyclopedias for answers. The first was his own head—not to toot his own horn, of course. He’d be tooting Erlebnis’, anyhow, considering the god had gathered the knowledge only to use it as a cudgel to unsuccessfully break his mind. The second encyclopedia was almost directly responsible for the first.

Its name was Raven.

“Do you know how many voyages have been attempted to the moon?” Raven asked Argrave as they walked side-by-side.

“Eighty-seven.” Argrave looked at the obsidian confines of Raven’s lab, wondering where the man was leading them.

“I’ll assume that’s not a guess. My point is the same—very many have voyaged seeking the stars, the sun, and the moon.” An eye and mouth appeared on Raven’s elbow, enabling him to emphasize his point without turning his head. “All of them failed. No one has been to the moon and back—not the gods of space, nor deities of any stripe. This so-called lunar dragon your brother insists exists is a statistical impossibility.”

“But not a physical one,” Argrave pointed out.

Raven stopped in his tracks, turning his body toward Argrave. “So you’ve told me. The notion of people, without magic, achieving such a thing is… fanciful. It was hard enough to get them collaborate to fight Gerechtigkeit—building a spacecraft capable of not only making it to the moon, but returning…”

“I’m no rocket scientist. I can understand that might surprise you.” Argrave held his hands out to kill the imaginary doubt. “But all of the problems that exist—lack of air, lack of protection, and I’m sure a thousand others I’m forgetting… they can be remedied. Flight trajectories can be calculated with math, and controlled with precise application of force. It takes a lot of data, a lot of time, and a lot of variables to discover and consider. But… from my meager understanding of the world, there’s no reason why it’s impossible. Doubly so when magic does exist.”

“I know.” Raven waved his hand, and an obsidian doorway parted. “By all means, it should be possible. Yet it never has been.”

Argrave narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you to agree so readily.”

“I guarantee you—if it were possible, a god would have done it. Unless, of course…” Raven raised a finger up. “There’s a variable you’re ignoring. A variable that wouldn’t have existed in your world. That’s why I’ve asked you here today.” He entered into the doorway he’d made.

“I figured you wanted to cut me open, just like old times.” Argrave smiled and followed after him.

“That’s part of it.” Raven descended down rapidly-forming obsidian stairs, and they finally came into a wide-open room.

There, Argrave laid his eyes on a familiar figure. Hause, goddess of potential, stood in a dignified posture with her grandiose blonde hair tied with pink ribbons. She turned away from the table she stood in front of to greet their arrival. The room that she was in seemed to be a storage area of Raven’s. There were shelves and drawers with several different labels, some of which had been left out—herbs, corpses of unusual animals, and all manner of things Raven should practically be expected to have.

Raven walked in, gesturing at the goddess that had made him the way he was. “I brought Hause here today to confirm what I have been telling you—there remains no latent potential, no untapped bloodline within you.”

Hause studied Argrave. Whenever she looked upon him, Argrave thought that he always saw a shudder from her, but perhaps it was his imagination. “He’s right in all except bringing me—I came of my own accord, to offer assistance where I believed it prudent.” She gave Raven a curt nod. “But I do agree with Raven’s assessment. Within you, Argrave—or within your kin, be that Elenore or Orion—there remains no force that I can align closely with the Gilderwatcher’s ability.”

Argrave scrunched his brows, feeling an uneasy headache mounting. “Are you trying to dissuade me from helping Orion?”

“Just because there remains nothing latent within you and yours, Argrave, doesn’t mean that Orion is necessarily wrong.” Raven stood behind Hause in quiet observance, his two long arms behind his back.

“Doesn’t it?” Argrave walked closer. “’No latent power in our blood’ and ‘unlocking the power of our bloodline’ are mutually exclusive ideas.”

Raven turned away and walked to a corner in the room. “Have you read the fables and tales Orion studied?”

Argrave nodded. “Yeah, last night. They’re pretty ubiquitous across all cultures, and that’s suspicious. Ugly lady with red hair comes down, but she’s actually a dragon in disguise. Only guy who isn’t an ass to her, she takes to the moon. They do some freaky dragon magic up there, and next year, the man returns with a red-haired child.”

“And if these red-haired children sleep under the moonlight, they gain the powers of their bloodline. Specifically, they gain the power to shapeshift their flesh to resemble their mother.” Raven reached his hand into an obsidian shelf, seemingly searching for something. “It’s not unusual for cultures to develop similar myths. Mortals live life in the same nature, no matter how many thousands of miles away from each other they might be. It’s no wonder tribal cultures across the continents all speak of gods in the sky to explain lightning, or demons to explain plague. They’d fabricate anything before admitting they simply don’t know. But I agree with your brother—the tale is far too consistent, and common, to be mere coincidence.”

“Okay.” Argrave walked closer, coming to stand beside Hause. “What’s the point of all this?”

“Here.” Raven yanked hard on a shelf in the wall, and pulled free a body with vibrant red hair. “Something I picked up a great many cycles ago.” He laid down an immaculately preserved corpse, and Argrave looked away. “Look at it. Don’t act all prudish. How many corpses have you made?”

Argrave turned his gaze back to the body. It looked like… well, a corpse. A red-haired young woman, dead, with that blank-eyed gaze that so many bodies had. From the skin alone, he could tell there was no life left in her. The dead had no presence, no existence. It still uneased Argrave, no matter how many he’d seen.

“Given what you mentioned, this is one of those descendants?” Hause crossed her arms as she looked upon the body.

Raven rather grimly moved the body’s head, opening eyes and shining light down the nostrils and ears. “I could show you the hallmarks showing her lineage, but you two are far too stupid for me to do it without wasting hours of time. Suffice it to say, trust my word when I say she’s only partly human.” An eye grew on the back of the hand Raven used to manipulate the corpse, locking gazes with Argrave. “And like you, Argrave, there is nothing within her to suggest there is some bountiful latent power. Moonlight unlocks it. It still does, long after death.”

Argrave smiled. “So you have made a study of this.”

“No, I made a note of it.” Raven swiped his hand, and a hole opened into the obsidian floor. He pushed the body in, then swiped again to close it, disposing of the body rather ungracefully. “There was no studying to be done. I found her like this, and it wasn’t until today I could make the connection.”

“Really?” Argrave narrowed his eyes. “You found her like this?”

“She tripped and dashed her head upon the rocks of a creek. One of my roaming chimeras found her and returned her.” He shook his head. “Bad luck on her part. Many die ingloriously. I suspect you will, as well.”

Argrave felt minorly offended as he asked, “What does that mean?”

“It’s a compliment.” Raven looked at Hause. “Now… are you sure on what you said?”

Hause fiddled with the pink sleeves of her elaborate dress. Argrave wondered how she got her hands on such things in Blackgard. He supposed her followers had their ways.

“Yes, I am.” Hause closed her eyes. “I’ll convey it.”

“Wonderful.” Raven walked away again, reaching into another storage cabinet. Argrave was pleased when he retrieved an obsidian box. Raven set it down, parting it, and Argrave felt discomforted when something in the shape of a body revealed itself. When it seemed to be nothing more than a set of silver armor, he was relieved again.

“This is the silver knight Orion killed.” Raven looked at Argrave squarely, and that discomfort returned redoubled. “This is the corpse of that which killed tens of thousands in a matter of minutes. It could’ve killed me. According to Orion, it’s the sum total of Lindon’s being, compressed into a fighting force. I have no reason to disagree with that conclusion. The body beneath the armor is somewhat human, though possessed of scales rather similar in structure to a Gilderwatcher’s.”

“Good lord, Raven. How many skeletons are in that closet of yours?” Argrave asked incredulously, rubbing his hands together before he looked at Hause. “Well? What were you supposed to convey?”

“There is unimaginable latent potential in this body.” Hause hugged herself as she stared upon it, glimpsing into a reality that Argrave had no conception of. “It is of the same caliber that I felt in…” she looked up at Raven, and Argrave had a tacit understanding.

“But what’s this potential’s nature?” He pressed.

Hause looked at him. “There are many. Were I to sum the various notions, I would describe it as the foundation. While not a building itself, it can serve as that which holds something far larger than itself.”

“As ever, she’s appropriately vague.” Raven tapped his finger against the chest plate of the dead silver knight. “However, if this corpse is to be a foundation for anything… I suspect it’s going to be the key to this journey to unlock your bloodline. Nothing is more fitting. I would suggest tearing out your heart again, alchemizing it inside my body, and reimplanting it…”

“I hope there’s a ‘but,’” Argrave quickly said.

“…but we can’t afford to act hastily.” Raven held his hand out. “Find these lunar dragons, or their descendants. And keep this in mind—there is a variable that we are not considering. There is a power at work we don’t yet understand. There’s no reason the moon, or indeed the space beyond this world, should be off-limits—yet it is.” He gestured. “I suggest you employ Yinther. As the god of curiosity, space has fascinated him above all. He’s sponsored several voyages to the beyond, all of which failed.”

“It’s a start. Excellent.” Argrave tapped the container holding the silver knight. “One last thing—get Artur involved. If there’s a foundation, building is involved. And if it’s building or crafting, I trust no one more than Artur.”

He turned to leave with those words behind, but the area he’d intended to walk confidently out of no longer existed—it had been closed away, leaving behind only an obsidian wall. Inside here, he could only leave if Raven let him. Unless he intended to blast his way out, or something of the sort.

“I’ll escort you out,” Raven said. Argrave couldn’t be totally sure his voice wasn’t smug.

Chapter 5

“Argrave, some reports,” Elenore’s voice cut into Argrave’s ear the moment he was free of Raven’s lab.

“More?” He asked with surprise—she’d already delivered some on his journey back, something about riots.

“A claimant to the throne has risen in Dirracha. In the Archduchy of the North, edicts are spreading around with a declaration that King Argrave intends to systematically murder every person bearing red hair, as they share descendance from Gerechtigkeit.” Elenore’s reports flowed into Argrave’s head as constant as the rivers flowed down from the mountains. “Also, there’s… damn it. Someone’s come in. I think you’d best come over.”

Elenore’s voice faded from Argrave’s head. These incidents were like a bold declaration from their opponent. Even if they sought ways to counter his growing influence, Gerechtigkeit would occupy his time using what he’d already gained to tremendous effect. They had spent much of their time centralizing power around Blackgard, weakening regional lords—now, that lack of regional power meant a lack of ability to effectively enforce.

After rejoining with Anneliese, who was keeping similarly apprised and was similarly instructed to meet Elenore in person, they briefly came to similar conclusions before heading to meet with the head of the parliament. Argrave opened the doors to her office and stepped within.

“Elenore.” Argrave walked up to her desk. She spoke with several others, but gestured for them to leave at his arrival. Only once the others were gone did Argrave speak. “Anneliese and I had some words. It’s becoming clear to me that we won’t be able to hold out alone. We need to involve the gods. They’re the only ones with the potential to keep the peace around the continent. The local lords are insufficient.”

“Hmm. Funny.” Elenore placed her hands in front of her. “Did you happen to recognize those I was speaking to?”

Anneliese touched Argrave’s shoulder. “Those were the mortal envoys of other gods, Argrave. Do you remember?”

“What?” Argrave looked back to where they’d just left. “What were they doing here?”

“We’re not the only ones with eyes and ears.” Elenore rose to her feet, walking around her desk. “The gods are aware of what’s happening.”

Argrave brightened. “We don’t need to ask them for help, then? They’re volunteering?”

“Some may, I imagine. Mostly, they’re as terrified as we all are.” Elenore leaned against her desk. “They’re asking for answers, Argrave. I can only obfuscate and misdirect for so long. A great deal of them are convinced that you have the answers. Some lend it to your inheritance of Erlebnis’ knowledge. The older members, such as Law, remember that you testified knowledge of the fact that Gerechtigkeit would be stronger in this cycle in Law’s Court. They let you slip by without giving up too much, but now? They want answers.”

Argrave swallowed. He supposed he had been taking for granted the compliance of the gods after their victory against the Qircassian Coalition. He had been able to unite the wider world by virtue of their show of strength in defeating Kirel Qircassia, Erlebnis, and Sataistador. He convinced the older members to join forces, however, by spilling a select few beans—foremost among said beans was that Gerechtigkeit would be stronger this cycle.

“Hell.” Argrave brought his hand up to his face, biting his knuckle nervously. “Do they want me to go to Law’s Court to speak on the matter?”

Elenore nodded.

Argrave sighed deeply. He’d been hoping to receive aid without giving up the source of his knowledge—it might endanger Sophia. “Should I go?”

“Should you go?” Elenore stopped leaning against her desk and walked forward. “We have a fake bastard of Felipe III pressing his claim to the throne in Dirracha, and much of the city is in active revolt. The one lead we’re seeking about our bloodline is being undermined by Gerechtigkeit already. We have more riots and revolts every single day. We can’t make it through this without the aid of the gods, I’m afraid. Unless you intend on abandoning millions to die, which we all know you won’t, you have to go.”

Argrave looked at Anneliese, and she gave a quiet nod of confirmation.

“Listen.” Argrave rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I can talk my way out of a lot. But if I go there and subject myself to the inquisition, I don’t see a way to keep Sophia out of this. According to the Heralds, she’s the very reason Gerechtigkeit is so much more powerful this cycle. How can I obscure her any longer? And once she’s revealed to the world, how can I protect her? How can I ensure that things end up in our favor, in mortalkind’s favor?”

“It’s already a miracle we kept her secret this long to begin with,” Anneliese said, putting a hand on Argrave’s shoulder. “Like it or not, the gods remain a formidable force in this world. We cannot exclude them from this final hour.”

“It might not be a miracle,” Elenore disagreed. “It’s clear Gerechtigkeit wants to protect Sophia just as much as we do. Perhaps he kept it from the gods’ ears, but now he’s forced our hands. You shouldn’t forget we still have all the cards, Argrave. We can think of a way to remain the dominant party in this negotiation ahead of time.”

Argrave scratched his head. “I assume they want to talk in Law’s Court?”

“Yes. The subject, officially, is the collapse of the White Planes and the mental influence Gerechtigkeit presently exerts worldwide.” Elenore pointed at him. “But given how they fixated on your attendance, I can assume you’re the third, unspoken subject of examination.”

Argrave felt as though he overcame a great barrier as he accepted that he could no longer protect Sophia from the wider world. He gave a nod with a solemn sigh. “Alright. It’s clear we don’t have a choice. The question is, what do we want to get out of this?”

“We need to enlist the gods to protect our people,” Elenore stated clearly. “The army and our local lords are insufficient to quell this unrest. Moreover, Gerechtigkeit is rallying what few allies we didn’t deprive him of under the banner of intelligent beings like liches or knights similar to the silver one Orion fought. He’s building what might be called a cohesive army in various places. Without the gods, millions could die, crushed between the unrest and the coming invasion forces.”

“We need more than protection,” Anneliese continued. “Orion’s retinue and our own kingdom’s forces search for the lunar dragon’s descendants, but it’s perhaps only with the gods’ assistance that we have any hope. Gerechtigkeit is fighting to prevent us from finding this—that, at least, is a good sign.”

“Anything else?” Argrave looked between the two of them. When they said nothing, he managed a grim smile. “That’s good. We have fewer problems to focus on without only one enemy remaining. Elenore, I’d like you to get all of my top minds together—I’m not stepping back into Law’s Court alone. I need good advice. And… what’s Sophia doing right now?”

Elenore paused for a moment, speaking with someone in her head. “She’s in the middle of a lesson.”

“Have Orion bring her here,” Argrave instructed. “I’m going to bring her with us.”

“Really?” Elenore raised her brow.

“Yeah.” Argrave looked off into the distance. “I don’t like it, but I need insurance. Law will keep his word no matter what, even if he later learns I tricked him. Before all this begins, I’m going to get him to vow to help us protect Sophia no matter what.”

Elenore and Anneliese exchanged a glance. The following silence told Argrave of the gravity of that decision.

“He may feel tricked if you leave out why,” Anneliese pointed out. “It could be interpreted as a slight. He might not remain our entirely steadfast ally in what follows.”

“Sophia is more important,” Argrave said simply, closing his eyes. “She could decide all of this.”

Neither Anneliese nor Elenore brooked protest.

His sister said with some finality, “I’ll contact those who’ll advise you.”

#####

Sophia looked about the golden chambers of Law’s Court in relative awe. “This place… where’s the exit, Argrave? How did we get inside? I can’t see the sky…” She craned her head looking up.

Argrave was distracted, but he focused upon hearing his name. He looked around at the others that’d come with him, then answered Sophia, “This place doesn’t have a true exit, Sophia. I can’t explain it now, but I promise you I will. Have a seat for now.” He patted her shoulder, and she obediently sat down on the couch beside him.

The golden rooms of Law’s Court set a feeling of deep unease within Argrave on this visit. He didn’t like bringing Sophia out of Blackgard, and even less so bringing her to this place. But Law was dictated by his own sphere of divinity to be confined by his word and bond. He was held to strictures within his divine realm preventing unjustified aggression. Others, too, were similarly restricted. There were few other safer places than the god’s Court.

The giant golden doors leading into this room swung upon, and in walked one of Law’s Justiciars. The white-armored titan put an armored gauntlet where its heart ought to be in a salute. “Argrave. I’m pleased that you responded to the union’s request for a meeting in such a timely fashion. I understand you have no obligations, and your own burdens beside.”

Argrave rose to his feet, realizing it might be time for them to head out. “Well, I’m sure we’ll all walk out of this with a greater understanding of the situation, and a more cohesive union.”

The Justiciar nodded. “I cannot speak with finality, but from what I heard from others, it sounds to me as though the Blackgard Union is becoming all the more closely entwined. The coming collapse of the White Planes promises to bind us all closer, not create distrust—heartening, considering what power Gerechtigkeit is already demonstrating during this cycle. Are you ready?”

“I am,” Argrave confirmed, then when the Justiciar began to turn, he said, “But I need to ask something of you, first, Law.”

The Justiciar looked at him, golden essence within its white armor gleaming. “I’m listening.” It planted its sword on the ground, and the scales hanging from its hilt dangled.

“Sophia,” he said quietly, then took her in his arms. She clung to him tightly as he walked toward the giant, clearly uneased by the divine construct. “Law, this is Sophia of Vasquer. I’d like to make a request of you regarding her.”

Sophia looked at him in some surprise when he introduced her using his own surname. The Justiciar, meanwhile, waited for Argrave to continue.

“There are many people that wish ill upon Sophia. Considering how the Blackgard Union—and in particular, because of the Kingdom of Vasquer’s efforts—has benefitted you, I’d like to ask a favor of you. Sophia… she has some people targeting her. People I’d qualify as equal strength to the gods themselves. This worries me greatly. She’s…” He looked at her. “She’s rather like a daughter to me.”

Sophia’s brilliant red eyes shook at this declaration. He’d always treated her as such, but he’d never stated it outright. Judging from her expression, she was in utter disbelief he’d use such terms for her. It didn’t seem to be an unpleasant thing to her, fortunately.

Anneliese put her hand atop Sophia’s own, and added, “To us both.”

Argrave focused back on Law. “I’d like you to vow to help keep her under the protection of Vasquer, or those she would choose as her guardian, no matter what should happen to us.”

The Justiciar was silent for a moment, then the titan of metal knelt down. “I, Law, god of rulership, justice, and authority, do vow to protect Sophia of Vasquer, and keep her safely in the protection of Vasquer or her chosen guardian.” The construct turned its head toward Argrave. “Is that sufficient?”

Argrave nodded, sighing with relief as a monumental weight was lifted off him. “Yes. Yes, that was more than sufficient.”

The Justiciar rose up. “I do wonder what’s the nature of your divulgence today, that you should ask so serious a vow of me.”

Argrave set Sophia back down on the ground, then looked ahead. “I’ll tell all. It’s the very least I can do.”

“Very well.” The Justiciar turned back, hefting its large sword along. “The assembly awaits.”

Argrave kneeled down, looking at Sophia. “I need you to stay with Vasilisa for a long while. Is that alright?”

Sophia looked sobered by his words, and gave quick nods to show her confirmation.

“Alright. Law’s given his word you’ll be safe. That mean’s he’ll stick to it.” He tousled her hair. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

As he made to stand, Sophia dared to ask with a trembling voice, “Did you mean it?”

Anneliese knelt down with Argrave. “Of course we did.”

“Come on. Cute kid like you, well-mannered, diligent… who wouldn’t want you as a daughter?” Argrave stood up. “Just keep on like you have been, Sophia. Everything’s going to be alright.”

Argrave felt very good to see the beaming smile consume Sophia’s face, and her eyes grow wet with barely-restrained tears. He let that warm him as he turned, using it as a ward as he started toward the cold deities that had ruined the landscape of countless cycles of judgment past.

#####

Argrave and his company—which included most of the people he’d come to rely on in this journey, from Galamon to Melanie—followed after the Justiciar somberly. With Gerechtigkeit showing his hand so overtly and rallied his forces so efficiently, it was time for the rest of the world to get involved in the fight.

But to get involved… it meant they’d need to learn what Argrave had been planning. Barring that against Law, he could use no more tricks to ensure compliance. The White Planes were defunct. Unless he wanted all that he’d built to fall apart, he’d have to muster the persuasive ability to bring the gods of countless millennia together, working toward a single end—the total erasure of Gerechtigkeit, on mortalkind’s terms.

So much could fall apart here. Or, on the other side of the spectrum… this terrifying faction Argrave had built could be harnessed toward an ending to things. A good ending.

Chapter 6

Argrave had learned throughout his life that words could be twisted in very exceptional ways to make the horrible seem almost noble. Robin Hood, for example—objectively, this supposedly skilled archer was a dirty criminal, likely guilty of enough theft to cost him his head. Yet he was the hero of the tale, stealing from the rich to give to the poor. Stealing was wrong, yet people thought him good. It was all clever applications of words, and a creation of a narrative to steal the hearts and minds of the people.

Argrave had been thinking about how to make himself the hero of his own story for a long while.

Objectively, Argrave had strengthened Gerechtigkeit pursuing a way to end the cycle forever without consulting any of the members of the Blackgard Union. Now, he intended to do his best to exclude all the influences of divinity from what came next, because he didn’t trust them to hold mortal interests in heart. He’d also blatantly took advantage of Law’s inclination toward honor, too, to protect Sophia—who was ostensibly the cause of Gerechtigkeit’s enhanced power. Laid out like that, it sounded selfish, narcissistic, and controlling. That’s precisely why Argrave couldn’t lay it out like that.

In truth, Argrave was a bit offended. Gerechtigkeit was trying to manipulate people with lies, misdirection, and uncanny knowledge about events? That was Argrave’s bread and bloody butter. He felt it was long overdue to answer this offense with a decisive beatdown, putting his adoptive daughter’s brother in his place.

Law’s Justiciar led Argrave and his company into a grandiose room that might be called a concert hall, down to the large stage at the head of the room and long rows of chair throughout the rest. Gods had already been assembled since long ago—not just minor ones, either, but most of the big fish. There had been a lot more big fish that had come into being after the siege of Kirel Qircassia. Many gods came forth to give their greetings to Argrave like he was the don of the family. Royal dynasties were essentially mafia families with excessive pageantry and no secrecy.

It became evident that Argrave was among the last of the people to arrive, as one of Law’s Justiciar took to the head of the stage and announced the meeting with gusto—an ‘airing of grievances,’ it was called, where they would come together to discuss recent troubles. Argrave didn’t miss the countless glances sent their way. He could tell word had already spread about the third, unspoken subject of this meeting.

The assembly began recapping the things that Argrave was already intimately aware of. A malignant power battered against the White Planes, breaking it down. Attempts to reinforce it had all come to naught, and none of the original architects were still around to build it again. They did consult Argrave on the subject, but he could tell from their words that the assembled gods meant to test whether or not the rumors were true, and Argrave had inherited Erlebnis’ knowledge. Compelled by Law’s Court, he couldn’t lie—but then, he didn’t feel the need to conceal his inheritance. He did refrain from telling them how he had inherited it, though. Let them speculate. It raised their wariness of him.

Various people briefly raised ideas about how the White Planes might be reinforced, but they were quickly shut down in favor of moving on to a more pertinent issue. Gerechtigkeit was whispering sweet nothings in populations around the world, utterly destroying local governance. This had never before been seen in any cycle of judgment. The other gods did confirm, however, that Gerechtigkeit couldn’t touch the minds of the gods or their servants. That, or he was keeping that card in his sleeve.

Either way, things steered in the direction that Argrave suspected they would. Gods brought up the fact that Argrave had prepared for this mental control ahead of time by crafting rings—Argrave confirmed it. Other gods mentioned rumors that Argrave had known Gerechtigkeit would be more powerful during this cycle—Argrave confirmed it. Everyone’s attention gradually shifted away from wider issues, and toward this strange mortal king that seemed to know far more than he should.

After a time of pointed questioning, all driving toward the same point…

Argrave stood boldly among these hundreds of gods. “Let’s cut past the insinuation and innuendo. I can tell that all of you here today want answers from me, in particular. For the sake of all our time, I’ll head to the stage and tell you all that you desire. Fair?”

A silence took hold of the concert hall as they pondered Argrave’s words. On the stage, the Justiciar initiated a vote. The whole room raised their hand (or closest appendage), nigh unanimous in their decision to give Argrave the floor.

“You may join the mediating Justiciar on the stage,” Law’s voice dictated to him.

Argrave gave a glance to his gathered companions, who’d been helping him prepare for this moment the entire time. Anneliese squeezed his hand in quiet reassurance, and then he broke away from them. He walked past countless gods, all of whom eyed him with a mixture of respect and wariness after what he’d done in the past and what he’d revealed today.

Argrave joined two of Law’s Justiciars, usurping the dais from one.

The Justiciar to his right questioned, “Do you submit to the honest law of this court, and agree to utter no untruths?”

“I do,” Argrave confirmed.

“Then speak freely, Argrave of Vasquer.” The Justiciar stepped away.

Argrave looked upon the most formidable beings in the entire world, all hanging on his words. Strangely, he didn’t feel nervous at all. He felt nothing more than a righteous indignation after all Gerechtigkeit had pushed him to do, and a fierce desire to keep his grip over all that he’d built.

“Words can’t describe how glad I am to get this information to you all, even under these circumstances. To start out with, allow me to establish something.” Argrave looked between all of them. “I have fought and beaten Gerechtigkeit more than anyone in this entire world.”

Translation: I have played a single video game for thousands of hours, and beaten the final boss many times.

Looks of befuddlement passed between just about everyone. The words that Argrave was speaking were patently ridiculous… provided, of course, one was ignorant about Heroes of Berendar.

“Do you think it sounds absurd? Delusional? I assure you, I’m as clear-minded right now as I was every single time that I fought against the cycle of judgment. I’ll say again—I have fought, and destroyed, Gerechtigkeit tens of thousands of times.” He took a deep breath. “But… there’s been a recurring problem. Whenever I’ve beaten Gerechtigkeit, it was an end to things. The only way I could continue to exist in this world was by starting again, three years before his advent.” Argrave held his arms out. “I’ll repeat that. I would start the struggle again, from the beginning. Indeed, I spent much of life repeating the same conflict, again and again, each time with subtle differences due to my own actions.”

Translation: I got every single ending to Heroes of Berendar multiple times, choosing slight differences in each route because I wanted to see if the developers thought of everything.

People digested his words quietly, some enraptured in what he said, while others looking at Law’s Justiciars and questioning whether or not the restrictions of the court were truly working.

“When we clashed in earnest, I eventually beat Gerechtigkeit every time, without fail,” Argrave continued.

Translation: I loaded a save whenever I died until I beat him.

“Yet the only way I could exist in this world was enduring a never-ending struggle against him. If he ceased to be, so did I. I despaired. I struggled. I toiled. I recorded vast, esoteric stores of knowledges about the most minute details in this head of mine. I came to know thousands of people, and learned every intricacy of every enemy he threw at me. I came to know how Gerechtigkeit fought before he put a single troop on the field.” He tapped his finger against his temple as he looked at them all.

Translation: I had no life.

“And finally, we’ve come to today. We’ve come to what I may believe is my last victory. Gods and goddesses, I’ll admit it. I have kept a great deal from you.” Argrave nodded in confirmation. “In part, it was because I know how difficult to believe my words are. Let alone the fact that I’ve faced Gerechtigkeit so many times, but that I succeeded in every conflict? It’s only with Law’s assurances that I can reveal the truth to you now. Hopefully, my deeds have proven my prowess—defeating Erlebnis, Sataistador, and Kirel Qircassia in the span of a day.” He put his hand to his heart in earnest display. “In larger part, it was because I was uneased by the prospect of what each of you might do. Now, however, every variable I’ve learned in my tens of thousands of confrontations against Gerechtigkeit is at hand.

“I possess that which I’m certain can end the cycle—both mine, and the cycle of judgment.” Argrave clenched the dais firmly. “I absconded with one half of the whole; Gerechtigkeit’s blood-related sister. She possesses the power to break us all free of the fate cruel forces have saddled upon our world. And I intend to—gods willing…” he gestured to them. “I intend to free us from Gerechtigkeit’s yoke. To do so, your aid is needed.”

He looked between them all. “All of you have seen yourself what Gerechtigkeit is capable of. You’ve seen his ability to warp the mind. You’ve doubtlessly heard many of the rumors he’s spread about me. His focused efforts should tell you one thing; I am the single biggest threat to his victory. He will stop at nothing to undermine my prominence, because he knows what I’m capable of. In the days to come, countless lies about me will surface. But with the truth revealed, you will know they’re not to be trusted. With my experience, no one is better suited to lead all of us into victory.”

Translation: anybody that disagrees with me is Gerechtigkeit’s patsy.

“In the past, secrecy was necessary. Now, I will reveal all that is asked of me. In return, I would ask that all of you put aside the calculus of power I have seen play out in so many tired ways. There could be endless freedom at the end of this road we all walk. Legs walking different directions, however, stand still until they fall.”

Argrave took a deep breath, his practiced speech executed as flawlessly as he could’ve. He looked at his contingent of allies, seeing them all somewhat optimistic, and felt he’d done well. At the same time, he was very aware he had made an active choice; the choice, namely, was to be a bullshitter until the end. A great many people warned others away from lying—Argrave included. They claimed that, eventually, one would forget the stories they’d made up, and the castle would come crumbling down.

But then, lawyers had made a profession out of it… and where better to exercise that skill than in court?

All that remained was the cross-examination.

Chapter 7

“…long story short, he’s cutting a very persuasive figure on the stage.” A man quietly pinched small flakes of green leaves into a pipe, compressing it down with his thumb.

“You can’t worm any doubt in?” asked a female’s voice from nowhere in particular.

“I could try,” responded the man, brushing off a few flakes of green with his hand. He conjured flame from his hand, then set his pipe aflame. After inhaling deeply and blowing outward, he continued, “But he’s arranged things in such a way that anyone trying to sow doubt might get isolated from the rest, even killed, on suspicion of being an agent of Gerechtigkeit’s. I like you well enough, but I’m not willing to risk that much.”

“This is Gerechtigkeit’s fault,” said the woman’s voice with conviction. “People wouldn’t cling to Argrave so readily if he hadn’t been so overtly destructive. Things are weakened, brittle. I guess it’s been more than enough time for rot to take hold.”

“But he was overtly destructive, and the gods are clinging to Argrave.” The man blew an O from his mouth, and it drifted upward toward the night sky. “Only a matter of time before they start searching. And I can almost guarantee you they’ll start finding. All this reminds me of the old days… only worse. Or better, depending on the perspective you’re taking.”

“They’ve been talking to me about him,” the voice continued. “They’re all but saying they want me to do something.”

“Oh yeah?” The man laughed. “I guess everyone’s a bit spooked. Only question is—what do you want to do?”

There was a long silence as the man sat beneath the night sky, casually puffing on his pipe and blowing O’s and wisping trails of smoke up into the air. No answer came for the longest time.

“Go back in,” the voice answered, a trace of defeat on her tone. “Help him. Ingratiate yourself with his inner circle. Arrange an in-person meeting, far outside Law’s Court.”

“Gerechtigkeit’s always paying attention,” he reminded her, balancing the pipe on his finger. “You’re a bit of a homebody, these days. You could get jumped.”

“I’m still who I was,” she disagreed. “And he’s not half-bad himself.”

The man laughed, smoke puffing out from his nose in wispy bursts. “He’s no dragon.”

“I am,” she reminded him. “However this shakes out, I want our first encounter to be on my terms.”

“Seems to me the boy-king will want much the same.” The man emptied his pipe onto the ground, then pulled out a case. He briefly cleaned it out with a cloth, then put it into a form-fitting mold inside the case. He stuffed it back into his pocket. “But I’m good at what I do.”

“I know,” she said, though there was a trace of bitterness in her kind tone. “Take care.”

#####

After Argrave’s grandiose speech came the more difficult part of being a politician—avoiding answering questions without seeming like someone without integrity.

Many viewed the role of head of state as an overseer for the government. Sometimes it was, but in Argrave's case, he was largely the public-facing figure, leaving the more complex issues that required actual managerial talent to Elenore. This, then, was the arena he shined in: foreign relations. These interviewers were quite ferocious, seeing as a great many of them had been doing this for hundreds of years at the minimum.

The benefit he had, largely, was the urgency of the situation, and the lack of a unified front of questioning. The gods couldn't ask specific enough questions to extract an answer before someone else came along and changed the line of questioning. At least… he thought that was a benefit.

Things started getting very dicey, very quickly. They honed in on Argrave’s claim about having fought Gerechtigkeit so many times, asking for precise details. He was relieved when the interrogator spent his allotted time, and another rose up to take their place—yet already, a coalition of some sort had formed. The questions carried over from one to the other like nothing had changed at all.

Even after he successfully recounted detail after detail of his various playthroughs of Heroes of Berendar, they seamlessly transitioned to another line of questioning—Sophia, and her role in things. It was a very uncomfortable line of questioning, because somehow, they’d all caught on that Argrave cared for the girl rather deeply, and wondered about the precise measures that he was taking regarding putting an end to Gerechtigkeit once and for all. He couldn’t outright tell them, ‘I’m just going to wing it when the big man shows up!’ even if it was the truth of the matter.

Worse yet, Law himself joined the queue to ask questions. That fact deeply unsettled Argrave, considering what he’d preempted from the god before this whole fiasco began. Argrave leaned heavily on the fact that Sophia was being targeted by Gerechtigkeit to avoid answering questions, but he could tell that his answers were getting tired, and people were beginning to smell blood in the water.

Finally, Law became the very next questioner… and Argrave looked upon one of the last. A god in mortal image, wearing a hefty coat and brandishing a pipe billowing a sweet-smelling smoke, walked up before Argrave at the dais. He had unruly hair, but there was a certain suaveness in the way he carried himself.

“You are?” Argrave asked, ignorant of this deity.

“Jaray,” he said, inhaling on his pipe deeply. When next he spoke, smoke billowed from his mouth and nose. “God of politics. You’ve met a great deal of my friends.”

Argrave inadvertently felt his posture straighten on the dais. All the hard-hitting questions that’d come his way—if this man was the god of politics, it stood to reason that they’d been unified by this fellow. Argrave had to admit, the man had an undeniable charisma. Everything from his posture to his somewhat gritty, deep voice commanded attention.

Argrave braced for what he was certain would be a kill shot of some kind, looking at Anneliese to steel himself. She gave him an encouraging nod.

“Argrave…” Jaray leaned up against the stage, almost casually. “To start, let me ask you a fundamental question—a question of character. What do you intend to gain by establishing yourself as the leader of the Blackgard Union?”

Argrave searched that question for tricks, for traps, then answered cautiously, “The means to end the cycle of judgment. The means to protect people from what Gerechtigkeit is presently doing.”

“And after…” Jaray held his arms out. “You’ll give up? You’ll step down, nobly?”

Argrave nodded, watching as Jaray inhaled his pipe deeply. “Of course.”

“But all of us should know very well…” He blew smoke from his nose, and it wreathed about his face. “It’s not so easy to give up power. What have you ever sacrificed without expecting something in return?”

Argrave grasped for an answer, standing in silence for some time as he stared down Jaray. Before he could say something, however, Jaray spoke again.

“Because I can tell you, people.” Jaray, instead of facing Argrave, turned around. “There’s been a huge problem with this interrogation today. That problem, namely, is that Argrave has been far too humble.”

Argrave narrowed his eyes in confusion, watching this man as he walked about before the audience.

“Truth is, from day one, Argrave has been sacrificing. Let me ask you this, Argrave—is it true you sold your own heart to a monstrosity so that you could cure a man of his sickly body? A monster that ate your heart?”

Argrave gaped for a moment, saying nothing, before he nodded. “Yeah, that’s… that’s true.”

The man put his hand to his heart. “How noble.” He puffed on his pipe again, then looked back to the crowd. “After having experienced this world the countless number of times that he has, I mention that to demonstrate there still remains boundless compassion in Argrave’s heart. I could tell you more tales of his, but my time is limited. I’ll mention one other.”

Jaray looked back. “Is it true, Argrave, that you went into the Shadowlands?”

Argrave inhaled, wondering how the hell this deity knew all of this information. “It is,” he confirmed.

Jaray began to walk up on the stage, asking commandingly, “Is it true, Argrave, that you secured the means to prevent the Shadowlanders from attacking this world ever again?”

“It is,” Argrave confirmed again, still fearing there was a trap at the end of all this.

“And did you ask for any credit for that monumental feat? Did you request any payment, any recompense, from the thousands of gods that this herculean deed benefits? Did you even proclaim your victory?”

“…no,” Argrave confirmed.

“No.” Jaray nodded, then looked out amongst the gods. “How many, I ask you, have the Shadowlanders killed over the years? Not mortals—our kind, too.” He puffed on his pipe for a while as the question reminded them of the terrible Shadowlanders. Then, he put his hand on Argrave’s shoulder. “In truth, Argrave has been leading us, bettering us, protecting us for far too long. To all of you, I ask this; let us clap for this hero.”

Argrave thought there wasn’t a chance in hell any clapping would actually begin, but to his surprise, the incredibly somber room erupted into loud, deafening claps. In the midst of all that, Jaray leaned in to Argrave’s ear.

“Law’s questioning is coming up,” the man said, any grandiosity gone from his tone. “Heard things might be tense. Heard you might’ve tricked him a little. I can make him abstain from questioning. It’ll save you some embarrassment, keep this amazing momentum you’ve got going. But one hand washes the other, yeah?”

Argrave looked at him as the applause continued. “What do you want?” He answered back.

“A meeting, face-to-face. Outside of this place,” Jaray said.

Argrave looked into this god’s dark eyes, questioning if that was wise. Law could, if he questioned harshly, shed some doubt about the upstanding nature of their leadership proposal. At the same time, he might not. Still, Law was known as one of Vasquer’s biggest proponents—any crack in the foundation might cause problems. Argrave had been ready to weather it alone… but if he didn’t need to? If it could all just go away?

“Alright,” Argrave agreed.

“Talk to me after this, then. A pleasure, hero,” Jaray said, patting Argrave’s shoulder as he turned away.

Argrave waited tensely, wondering if he’d just made a huge mistake. The applause died down, and Jaray left the room. One of Law’s Justiciars walked up in front of the stage. It appeared to be ready to speak and ask its lord’s questions, but suddenly came to a grinding halt. When next it spoke, genuinely surprising words came out.

“Law surrenders his right of interrogation,” the Justiciar said.

A little muttering spread throughout the room, but all-in-all, it didn’t seem to ruffle too many feathers. Law was known as Argrave’s ally—after all, he’d received his blessing. His abstention could be seen as a tacit endorsement. To Argrave, though, this was utterly bewildering.

Who the hell was Jaray? How did he have this much sway? And how had Argrave never heard about this before? There were thousands of gods that he didn’t know, but one that could so effortlessly manipulate Law’s Court, and who knew so much about what had gone on in the world…

Whatever he’d gotten himself into, he’d need to be prepared to deal with.

Chapter 8

Argrave, exhausted after a long session, went to explain the exchange that he’d had with Jaray to those that had come with him. Anneliese and all others listened with rapt attention, taking the matter as seriously as it likely was.

“This Jaray would forego the certainty, the impartial justice, of this place?” Galamon questioned suspiciously. “A trap.”

Argrave nodded in agreement. “Could be. But I was thinking it had to do something with our incorporeal friends that need a body to get around. The wiki doesn’t say much about Jaray. He and Erlebnis had dealings, and the man has his hands in a lot of pie… but he’s never been a major player, and he’s certainly not omniscient. Just a wheeler-dealer type, who wants everyone to get along.”

“Heralds are involved?” Melanie questioned, looking about this place nervously.

“It fits. Their silence has been broken only by the machinations they perform in the background.” Orion crossed his arms, an expression of scorn about his face. “They are not worthy of our time. Still, I suspect it prudent to give it to them.”

Melanie scrunched up her face, confused by the oxymoron, while Elenore supported her brother. “If it is the Heralds, all the more reason to go. You could find out what they’re up to.”

“I don’t know.” Argrave ran his hand through his hair. “The man seemed important, somehow. He’s no pawn, that’s for certain.”

“I concur. As far as the eye could see, I saw respect writ on the faces of the gods. I—” Anneliese cut off, turning to look at someone approaching with a frown.

“Jaray sent me,” a lesser god walked up, acting somewhat obsequiously. “He wanted to have that conversation now. He said you’d know what that meant. Ah—and Law has joined him.”

Without waiting for a word of gratitude or any acknowledgement whatsoever, the god snuck away into another corner of Law’s Court. The assembly was over, largely, and thousands of gods were having thousands of conversations about its contents to decide their course of action. Argrave had done far better than he was even expecting, largely due to the glazing Jaray had given him that’d soften the stances of everyone approaching thereafter. But it wasn’t over, because decisions had yet to be made.

“I think we go,” Argrave said decisively, but he did confer with his allies briefly. None seemed to have any protest. “Then, let’s.” He gestured, walking onward with a small bounce on his step. He was eager and nervous. He couldn’t fully pin why that was true.

#####

When Argrave and his coterie opened the door to one of the many chambers in Law’s Court, they found the scene precisely as it had been described. Inside the drawing room, Jaray sat hounded by a cloud of smoke above his head. Opposite him, one of Law’s Justiciars stood behind the couch.

“Ah.” Jaray raised his pipe up. “You’re here, at last. Fortunately, I’ve had the time to say what I needed to Law. I was explaining to him, you see, your relation to Sophia. I’m sure you can better fill in the blanks than I can, as a third party… but I’ve told him much of what he needs to know.” He looked at the Justiciar. “Law… could you…?”

“I’ll let you two speak,” came the deity’s voice, echoing somberly from within his Justiciar. “Argrave, I would speak to you after this.”

Argrave gave him a nod. “Certainly.”

Law exited. Argrave and his party started to enter, but Jaray held up his hand.

“I’d prefer to speak to you and your wife alone, if it’s not too much trouble.” Jaray exhaled smoke. “You could insist against it if it makes you uncomfortable, but it’s just how I’d prefer things.”

Argrave debated it, and Anneliese’s affirming nod made Argrave’s decision for him. “Check on Sophia, please,” he told the others, then entered the room with Anneliese.

They sat across from Jaray on the couch as the others shut the door behind them. Jaray looked more an artist than a politician—unruly dark hair, deep eyes, and handsome tan skin. His clothes were neither too luxurious nor too poor, striking what could be called an amicable balance. He had that same charm to him Argrave had noticed earlier—he couldn’t pin it down, but he could notice it.

“Who the hell are you?” Argrave asked outright, cutting past his own tension. “Why does it seem like you’re running this place?”

“Me? I just like to help people,” Jaray said with an innocent shrug. “I helped Law, so he listened to me. I helped you, so you’re here. And I’ve set it up to where I can help you again, if you’ll let me. I can smooth over any and all tension you might’ve felt with Law.”

“Provided we agree to this meeting,” Anneliese finished for him.

“That’s the short of it. Very smart.” He produced a case. “Would either of you like to partake?” He opened it up, revealing another pipe of similar make to his own. He retrieved a vial from the case filled with dried herbs of some kind.

“We already are. Room’s filled with smoke,” Argrave pointed out, refusing it with a gesture. “Not a terrible smell, though. Lemongrass.”

He offered it silent to the other in the room, but Anneliese similarly refused.

“Your loss.” As he stuffed his pipe with more of whatever he was smoking, he looked between them. “You look like you’re both in a no-nonsense mood, so I’ll be sensible. You’re looking for descendants of the so-called lunar dragon. I can help you out on that front, if you’ll let me.”

Argrave exhaled in some surprise. “For the low price of what, exactly?”

“Nothing.” Jaray tamped what he’d sprinkled in his pipe, then renewed its flame. “I’m helping you, and I’m helping another. This is a mutually-desired meeting. I’d call it a blind date, if not for the implication, and the fact that the knowledge is unbalanced on one side of the equation.”

Anneliese leaned in. “Do you realize how suspicious all of this is?”

“The convenience of it all?” Jaray smiled. “It’s merely my nature, ma’am.”

“Leading some secret coalition?” Argrave pressed.

“Leading?” Jaray scoffed, taking a deep inhalation of his pipe. “I abhor the thought. Politics aren’t leadership. It’s the glue holding so many people together, or the grease that helps things glide smoothly against one another. It’s giving a favor to get a favor. It’s the alignment of interests, the guidance of personalities and ideologies toward something actionable, and much more than that. It’s…” Jaray paused, thinking as he took another smoke.

“It’s convenience,” Argrave finished, leaning forward and clasping his hands together.

“Just so, Argrave of Vasquer. Just so.” Jaray smiled brilliantly. “I like to be there when people need me. Because when the time comes… maybe, just maybe, they’ll be there for me, too. After all, it’s hard to forsake a convenience once you have it. I’m sure you’d agree that a leader of convenience might not be the best man for the job. Instead, that role should fall to someone like you two. Or your sister, bless her heart. You’ve earned a very nice life for yourself. My compliments.”

Argrave rubbed his palms together, questioning just how dangerous this man was. At every turn, it had been more convenient—more pleasant, even—to just go along with what he suggested. He had already helped immensely, yet he offered more without an obvious condition. It was difficult to tell if this silken bed was born of a silkworm or a spider. He hesitated to lie down for that reason.

Argrave pursed his lips, then asked, “Are there any conditions to this meeting?”

“Only the location,” Jaray answered smoothly.

“If we show up with an army at our back…” Anneliese inferred.

“I can’t speak for what my friend would do. The only reason she requests it outside this place is simple: she’s not one who wants to make her presence known, especially not in Law’s Court. But I’ll be there, in person. I’ll help to make sure it doesn’t become hostile for either side. No one wants conflict between you two except Gerechtigkeit. He’s beyond helping, I’m afraid...” Jaray took a wistful puff.

“How do you know all of this?” Argrave asked. “Does the term Heralds mean anything to you?”

“I just help people, nothing more,” Jaray insisted. “People talk, I listen. They write, I read. They do, I see. I’m glad I was able to help illuminate how much you’ve helped others before a crowd that needed to hear it. Needless to say, I can keep on that path, if it pleases you. And I can help make Law see the necessity of the minor miscommunication you had. It’s best for everyone if you save the bridge before it burns, after all.”

Argrave looked at Anneliese after Jaray so blatantly dodged their question, and he saw the same thing reflected in her skeptical eyes as he felt in his head—this guy’s a patsy for the Heralds, without a doubt. He didn’t think further pressing would yield anything better, so he decided to try another approach. They’d been cooperative thus far, but he wanted to see if there were hidden fangs to this burgeoning relationship.

“What happens if we don’t go along?” Argrave asked. “What happens if we don’t need your help? What if we tell you that we didn’t ask for it, and don’t want it?”

“Well…” Jaray looked away from Argrave. “I’d have to go back to my friend and disappoint her. I’d be a little hurt, if I’m honest. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and yours. I hope that my dismissal of your companions didn’t cause any bad blood between us. If you’d like, I could apologize to them, individually or as a group. If something else is the problem, please, speak your mind.”

Argrave waited for any signal from Anneliese than he was being deceitful, but none came. Either he could fool her, or he was being earnest. Both outcomes would be equally surprising.

Argrave looked at Anneliese, then leaned in and whispered under cover of a ward. “What do you think?”

“I believe…” She paused, searching for words. “He’s as he seems.”

“I’m not too fond of buying and selling favors,” Argrave stared into her amber eyes. “The favor market is a ruthless one.”

“Whether now or later, we could always say no,” Anneliese said optimistically. “He’s no fighter. You and I alone could defeat him, I’m certain.”

After receiving her advice, Argrave dispelled the ward and leaned away from her. Jaray waited, unoffended by him seeking her counsel under cover of a sound-blocking ward.

“I don’t think you have to disappoint your friend.” Argrave gave a steady nod.

“The meeting is on?” Jaray sought to confirm.

“Provided the location isn’t ridiculous,” Argrave added. “And after I consult with my people.”

“Wonderful.” He offered his hand to shake. “Glad I could help.”

Argrave shook his hand—then next, Anneliese.

“Now—that’s one matter put to rest, but many more remain before we can sleep. Shall I join you in your conversation with Law, or would you prefer I speak to some of the deities that were on the fence about falling under your banner?”

Argrave felt a little overwhelmed. Already, it felt like he’d gained some sort of new subordinate. He was hesitant to prevail upon this man for so much, the god’s own words ringing in his ears.

It’s hard to forsake a convenience once you have it.

#####

Raven looked around the meeting place. It was a high summit, and though the winds were harsh here, the peak formed a partial shield that blocked them out and created an eerie whistle. He looked up above to the moon, where its red brilliance illuminated the place spectacularly.

“Nothing living for miles,” Raven said, speaking to someone distant who could hear him full well. “Nothing trapped. Nothing in the earth for a long way down. Not even a sign anything’s stepped up here, other than mountain goats. It’s a viable location.”

Anneliese’s golden Starsparrow hovered before him.

“Will you come?” He asked.

The bird gave a nod.

“I’ll keep watch.”

Chapter 9

Though Argrave had been all but told that he might be expected to return the favor later down the line, for now, he wasn’t opposed to accepting the convenience of Jaray’s free help. Getting something for nothing had always been his preferred way of doing things. And help Jaray was—he helped Argrave mitigate any tension with Law, mostly by being a convenient cushion to the truth of the matter.

“Argrave was understandably terrified by the prospect of the White Planes collapsing,” Jaray had said to Law smoothly. “Is it any wonder he went to you, the only god who he could trust to keep their word? Truly, all that he asked of you was what was already established by the agreement made to form the Blackgard Union. Can it really be considered a wrongdoing, especially when done at the advice of others?”

Jaray’s intervention was rather like a mother swooping in to abate a father’s wrath. There was some disapproval expressed, some words of disappointment levied, and some questions about whether or not they were hiding further information. But with the setup Jaray had given him, Argrave felt like it was child’s play to bat all the questions aside and preserve the goodwill that had been established so long ago. Law went away renewing his vow to protect Sophia, but reminding Argrave that half-truths compromised authority and justice.

After, Jaray offered to help more, swaying favor toward Argrave regarding his intention to assume the role of the Blackgard Union’s leader. They decided instead to look to Jaray’s offer: attending the meeting. It was only then that they were free of him, and only then that they had the opportunity to relay what Jaray was like to their companions. Argrave told all—every beat of their conversation.

“You know what he likely is, don’t you?” Anneliese asked once he’d finished describing things to the others.

“A catspaw of the Heralds.” Argrave closed his eyes. “Meaning he’s hearing everything that we’re talking about, now.”

Elenore narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you ought not call him a catspaw, then. Are you sure of this?”

“He dodged the question when we brought it to him. It was clear to me he didn’t intend to answer.” Anneliese shrugged. “That’s no proof, but there’s knowing something and knowing something.”

“You didn’t press him?” Durran asked.

“I felt we got our answer the moment he wormed his way past the first question.” Argrave tapped Durran’s shoulder. “But if it makes you feel better, I intend to pose it again when we meet outside of Law’s Court.”

“We’re going?” Galamon raised a brow.

Argrave looked at him. “We can’t afford to waste valuable days of time on a wild goose chase searching for lunar dragon descendants. Whether a trap or a genuine dialogue, this is worth confronting.”

The Veidimen commander nodded solemnly. “I urge caution. Securing safety around the world is more important than this meeting.”

Orion looked about to say something in disagreement, but Argrave beat him to it. “That’s why Anne and I are going alone.”

All Argrave’s advisors looked at him in shock.

“Their reactions don’t surprise me,” Anneliese said to Argrave almost as if the others weren’t there. “They didn’t see us fight in the Shadowlands.”

Argrave nodded to her, then looked to Elenore. “Can you stay here, get a grip on things? In particular, while he’s absent, find out what you can about Jaray.”

“I can do that. You’re sure about this?” Elenore questioned.

“Like Anne said… you didn’t see us in the Shadowlands. If you had… you’re probably seek out a therapist for me.” He patted his sister’s shoulders. “Good luck.”

“What about Sophia?” Elenore questioned.

“Keep her here, for the time being.” Argrave closed his eyes. “The next time I see her, I want a proper conversation.”

“Just make sure there is a next time, then,” Elenore insisted.

#####

Argrave and Anneliese joined up with Raven far from the designated meeting area, looking upon it from a distance. The location chosen was a mountain in Anorexhai—the continent that the Smiling Raven had wiped out, countless millennia before. It was deep inland, where the hum of the bugs in the rainforest echoed out far more constantly than any human activity. It was as untamed as the Bloodwoods, and nearly as harsh. There was no civilized presence here for hundreds of miles.

“Any more things you’ve picked up on?” Argrave asked.

“Nothing of note,” Raven confirmed. “So long as you maintain avenues of retreat, I believe you’ll emerge from this unscathed.” He lifted his arm, pointing. “The one called Jaray waits, already.”

“Since when?” Anneliese asked in surprise. Raven shook his head to indicate it wasn’t a long time. Anneliese followed up curiously, “Could you tell what he was smoking?”

“Nothing more than grass dipped in a peculiar, non-harmful ointment. Still, I’d not advise inhaling.” He looked between the two of them. “Will you go?”

Argrave looked to Anneliese, and then the two of them nodded. They proceeded through the rainforest on foot, making their way to where Jaray was. They found him where Raven had pointed out, lounging on a fallen stump. In the humidity, his smoke seemed lazy, almost heavy. There was a gargantuan creature beside him—an overgrown lizard, frankly. Jaray fed it red meat, and it laid there contented.

“You’ve come.” Jaray threw the remainder of the meat at the lizard’s feet, then stood up. He walked to a nearby stream, cleaning off his hand of the blood. “Shall we go?”

Argrave looked at the giant lizard, gluttonously scarfing down meat. “A part of me wonders if I didn’t just see some divine symbolism. I walk in on you, Jaray, feeding a fat lizard red meat. If that’s not a portent for what’s to come of this meeting, I’m not sure what is.”

Jaray laughed as he looked at the reptile. “The truth is often far more boring than reality. People invent these grandiose scenarios in their head about the future, present, or even the past. They suspect people are working with Gerechtigkeit, or the Heralds.” His dark eyes met Argrave’s, a smile graced his lips as he smoked. “Sometimes, it’s better to live in fantasy than to have reality confirmed. It’s less disappointing that way.”

Argrave chuckled at his audacity—he was all but saying he knew their concern. “If that’s true, why can’t you just bore us with the facts?”

“Well… I said the truth is often far more boring. Not always.” Jaray laughed, then turned. “Come on.”

Jaray walked up a mountain trail, and after exchanging a quick glance, the royal pair followed after him. Anneliese kept a grasp on the situation from above with her Starsparrow, and Argrave guided her along as she focused on her druidic magic. The hike wasn’t particularly long, but it was quite steep. Anneliese and Argrave, enhanced as they were, easily kept the god’s pace until they arrived at the summit.

The peak looked much as Raven had described it—desolate, with the only hint of life being tracks so faint it was hard to decide if they were real. The howl of wind was but a quiet whisper here, and above, the red moon shone down on them like a brilliant spotlight. It might almost be a romantic getaway spot if not for the gravity of this meeting to come.

“Where’s your friend?” Argrave asked Jaray.

Jaray looked up to the sky, puffing smoke. He pointed his finger. “See that red dot?”

Argrave followed his finger up, peering at the sky. He indeed spotted a blinking red dot, assuming it naturally to be a star or a planet or some other such celestial body. He shifted on his feet uneasily when he saw it grow in size.

“She’s very dramatic, and somewhat insecure,” Jaray continued, smoking his pipe. “I don’t help, teasing her as I do. But she’s a good person. You don’t have anything to fear.”

“Anne?” Argrave questioned, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the rapidly-approaching red dot. It looked like a meteor, come to end them. “I’m wondering if we might consider getting the hell out of here.”

Anneliese watched the sky the same as he did—in rapt attention, in awe and fear. “I think… I think we’ll be fine.”

“You think?” He looked at her briefly, then looked back above. “You want to elucidate how exactly you came to that conclusion? Jaray?”

“You wanted to speak to a descendant of a lunar dragon,” Jaray explained. “It’s always much easier if you bypass all the proxies, however, and get straight to the source.”

The next moment, Argrave was certain they’d share the dinosaur’s fate, dying to a meteor suddenly and unexpectedly. A burst of fire cut through the atmosphere itself, and the moon was blocked out by a roaring inferno that sent every animal of the rainforest at the foot of the mountain screaming and hollering. Argrave was moments away from teleporting away when all of this meteor’s momentum ceased, and a great shockwave wracked the mountain.

Argrave saw, then, as classic a dragon as he had ever seen. Its red scales were the same hue as the moon above, and its eyes a white-gold that were an equal to the stars in the sky in brilliance. The creature seemed as large as Blackgard itself. Its wings could hide the sky, its clawed legs could rend the mountains, and its spiked hammer-like tail could shatter the continents. But it descended slowly, lowering itself without any physical movement as though its wings were just for show.

The moment its great legs seemed like to touch the ground, its entire body shifted, fading away like smoke in wake of a decidedly female figure. Though possessed of white, almost yellowish human skin, she bore a crimson robe of scales that Argrave suspected grew from her body. She had hair of the same color, long enough that Anneliese’s seemed short by comparison—those red locks had to stretch for many yards, just from first glance. Her eyes still shone like stars, retaining a hint of their reptilian nature. She stood at equal height to Argrave.

“I am not dramatic,” the lunar dragon protested at Jaray in irritation. Her voice was quite deep for a woman’s. “I’m simply efficient.”

“You’ll concede the insecurity, then.” He smiled at her.

“Arguing would only prove you right.” She looked at them. Her eyes did not move in a human fashion—they darted like a chameleon’s might, able to look different directions at the same time. “It’s strange to see you in person. I don’t really like it. It’s like reading a book and finding your name in it, or…” she sighed. “Well, we’re here.”

“Reading a book?” Anneliese repeated. “Then you…?”

“I’m aware of you. And I’m one of the lunar dragons you were looking for, yes.” She blinked—a translucent eyelid obscured her eyes for a moment, then retracted. Her appearance was remarkably human-like, yet the longer he scrutinized, the more he recognized things that were off—her tongue, for instance, was thin, long, and forked. “You might call me the first. It’s not entirely true, but I’m the first you might accurately add ‘lunar’ to.”

She walked closer in the following silence. Argrave caught sight of a long tail behind her, which moved forward with the grace of a snake. It coiled around her gracefully, then she laid down in front of them. She assumed a position rather like an empress decadently lounging atop pillows, with her own tail as the bed.

“Have a seat,” she said with a sigh. She turned her head. “Jaray,” she called out.

“Yes?”

Her next words defied expectations—not because of their meaning, but rather because Argrave could find no meaning in them. For the first time Argrave could ever recall since arriving here, he heard a different, unfamiliar tongue. It wasn’t arcane by any means, but there was no denying this lunar dragon spoke a different language.

Jaray nodded and began to walk away. She looked back. “Jaray will get you chairs, some food. He’s helpful like that.”

Argrave pushed past his surprise to ask the first question. “What’s your name?”

“Impossible to say, what with your facial structure,” she gestured vaguely. “Dragons have long snouts, different tongues, and numerous teeth—our words are simply different sounds entirely. I shan’t mock you by insisting you use it. Roughly translated, it means, ‘reflection of the suns upon a still lake.’ You could call me that, but I know it sounds off.” Her long claws stroked her sharp chin for a moment, then she raised a finger as if in epiphany. “When I was last in human form, I went by Lorena. It’ll suffice.”

“Alright, Lorena.” Argrave glanced at Anneliese, who was infinitely more fascinated than he was—and he was pretty damned intrigued. “Let’s talk.”

Chapter 10

“I could start with pleasantries. It’s clear you have a great deal of questions you’d like to bombard me with, Anneliese, but I’m not sure how we’ll all walk away from this, and I don’t want to start liking you before I’m sure I can afford it.” Lorena began. “How is Sophia, these days?”

“These days?” Argrave repeated.

“Jaray’s been flirting with it for a very long time, but I won’t be as subtle as he is.” Lorena’s bright eyes darkened, expressing her grim tone just as well as her voice did. “I do represent the Heralds in some capacity. You’re tipping very dangerous scales, and it’s becoming very worrying. No one decided that you should decide the fate of the world. It was only by the force of your own will that you brought us to this. You’ve conquered this world, well and true.”

“No one?” Argrave raised a brow, looking around. “I’m only the leader because people tolerate me as one.”

A burst of flame and smoke erupted from her nose as she scoffed. “Your rule is predicated on gods and nobles, deciding the whims of all. You appeased them, not the whole. Not that I’m…” She cut herself off, calming flames that started to appear near her. “I see there’s good in your heart, Argrave. The love you have for your family is enough to move my kin, move me. I’m not…” she sighed. “Damn it. I should wait for Jaray. He’s better at explaining these things.”

“You should.” Jaray walked out from where he’d been obscured. He dragged along two loungers—it wasn’t entirely clear where he’d gotten them from, but he set them both beside Argrave and Anneliese.

Argrave laid down relaxedly, while Anneliese sat upright on the edge of her provided seat. “Why don’t you explain, then?”

Jaray walked until he stood in front of Lorena. “When last we spoke, we were talking about convenience.”

“So?” Argrave beckoned.

“You named me a catspaw to the Heralds,” Jaray continued, and it made Argrave tense up to hear those words repeated. It all but confirmed someone’s omniscience. “It’s true. They rely on me because I’m a convenience for them. And the time is rapidly approaching where they’ll no longer trust us to handle the situation alone.”

“And that’s relevant to this situation how?” Argrave leaned in. “Listen—all that I’m looking for is the method to stop Gerechtigkeit’s mental influence, full stop. We’d hoped that might lie with you and the method to unlock our bloodline, but—”

“Might as well let them speak, Argrave,” Anneliese reminded him, glancing over.

Argrave silenced himself, listening closer as Jaray nodded to Anneliese in thanks. “The Heralds and their ways remain a mystery to both Lorena and I. But they, just like all of us, are beings of convenience. They want an easy, quick solution that puts all of their fears to rest. Right now, you are their fear. And with you pursuing these dangerous things, Sophia in tow… they might be liable to do something desperate.” Jaray cradled his hands, expressing his sincerity.

“There’s no denying you’ve bloodied their nose,” Lorena picked up where he stopped. “But if you take this further, there is no doubt in my mind that they won’t happily wait and see who wins. If need be, they’ll interfere. Even if it’s on the side of Gerechtigkeit, they’ll do something.” She sighed deeply. “It’s time to make a deal, Argrave, and settle. You have the most leverage now. Do so while their fears are high, yet before their superiors come to look upon them with closer scrutiny.”

Argrave looked between them. “It seems to me that you know a hell of a lot more about the Heralds, and this world, than we do.”

“We know this, mainly: the Heralds’ sole agenda is to keep the cycle of judgment going perpetually.” Jaray looked up at the bright red moon above, then looked back. “They would be willing to give anything within this realm—secrets and abilities beyond your imaginings—if only you allowed them that.”

“Think of it.” Lorena leaned forth off her tail, eyes brightening in what seemed to be righteous indignation. “Why do you do this, Argrave? Would you consign trillions to death this cycle to save a slightly higher number many millennia from now? By what right do you involve people in this struggle? It’s only now that you reveal your true intention to the gods, but the people remain ignorant to this very second. Why have you taken their right of choice from them? Could you look each and all in the eyes, and tell them the truth—that you want them to die for others to live? You couch your fight in nobility, yet—"

“You’re getting worked up, Lorena,” Jaray reminded her softly, and she leaned back while looking away.

Argrave narrowed his eyes, not voicing his thoughts immediately. “I’m getting a sense that you two might be speaking from experience.” His eyes darted between them. “Am I wrong to think that?”

He felt the silence following his question was answer enough.

“Do you mean to tell me that I’m not the first to come this far?” Argrave stopped lounging, leaning in. His next words were spoken harshly as he asked, “Would that honor happen to belong to you, Lorena?”

Lorena fixed her eyes upon him. “What if it did?”

Argrave couldn’t help but laugh. “So, you had the means to fix all of the misery that people had endured, but you decided against it, because…?” He looked to Anneliese, seeking her perspective. She only watched them without a word, scrutinizing, and he was forced to look back. “What did they offer you? Let me guess—a moon?” He looked up. “A home world of your own? A ruby in the sky, to watch us suffer down here?”

She only shook her head at his provocation. “You have no concept of what you face.”

“Gerechtigkeit—”

She snapped, her black nails spawning dancing strings of fire that faded. “Gerechtigkeit is a tool, Argrave, to achieve a result the Heralds want! What that is, I can’t comprehend or qualify. But I’ve seen the end of the road you’re travelling on.” She rose to her feet, walking forth until she looked down upon him as he sat.  “It would be the end of worlds beyond this one—the Heralds didn’t lie. But more than that, it would be the end of magic, the end of divinity. You’re entreating gods to help you kill themselves. You’re depriving mankind, elvenkind, and all creatures like myself of the beauties of magic.”

Argrave rose to his feet, looking her in the eyes determinedly. “Someone has to do something. Because I know this…” Argrave looked out at everything. “I know this isn’t right. We’re in service to higher powers, giving our lives not knowing to what. The misery, the death… I know there’s another way. I know this cycle has to end.”

“Destruction without creation is ruin. Creation without destruction is cancer. Life without neither is stagnation,” Lorena said emotionally, pleading with him. “Think about what you’re doing. Think about the forces you’re playing with.”

“Then where does that put you, living on the moon?” He asked pointedly, and her eyes grew dark.

“You have no idea the concessions I’ve made to keep my people safe,” she said grimly. “But what of you? Now that you’ve obtained the knowledge for immortality, will you share that with all? Will you give all things you own freely? Will you relinquish all worldly possessions? I think not. You’re a king, and such a man cannot walk through life without skirting on the edge of certain moral boundaries.”

Argrave felt a little bit of fire rise in his chest, but a touch from Anneliese, who he didn’t realize had come to stand by him, reminded him of his place. He was staring at, he realized, himself. Lorena had come to the same summit that Argrave had, and after seeing what laid on the other side, elected to take a road that differed from the one he’d set his heart upon. That was sufficient enough to give him pause, to make him reconsider.

Lorena seemed neither a cruel pragmatist or a selfish tyrant. Rather, the passion with which she spoke betrayed a certain kinship between their approach to life. At the heart of this all, he knew that he still needed her wisdom, regardless of whether or not he agreed with the choice that she’d made.

“Alright. Tell me, then. You saved your people by bringing them to the moon?” Argrave asked. “The Heralds allowed this?”

Lorena stepped back with wordless nods, and Jaray advanced to speak in her stead. “They borrowed Sophia’s power of creation to transform Lorena’s home into a planet for her kin, the dragons. They live there, far above, to this day. At the end of it all… isn’t that what you crave? A land for you and your people? To live undisturbed by the ravages of the cycle? That reward could well be yours, Argrave of Vasquer. And I can be the one to broach the offer.”

“Jaray is good for his word,” Lorena insisted, calming herself by pacing about. “He was the one who brokered the deal that saved my people. You and Anneliese… the entire continent of Berendar… any you dictate, by this point, could be given a land of their own. Nothing would even need to change. You possess such leverage that I’m sure you could make any demand of them.” Lorena shook her head.

“But you said you made concessions,” Argrave pointed out.

“It isn’t like my time,” Lorena shook her head. “My coalition of dragons had no true advantage. We were at a stalemate. Like you attempt to do today with the mind, we stopped Gerechtigkeit from utilizing a fell ability—control and manipulation of the flesh—but it left us all too weakened to face what came after. I chose to save my people instead of risk it all in a battle that might’ve wiped us out. But you? It’s different. And I urge you, please, take what is offered now.”

“You would broker the deal?” Anneliese asked, looking at Jaray.

“I can.” He nodded, blowing smoke into the air. “Or at the very least, secure a negotiation.”

Argrave sat down, pulling Anneliese to sit just beside him. He looked into her eyes. The two of them had come to know each other well enough that he felt there was tacit understanding between them. They seldom needed to speak to know what the other was thinking, feeling. Perhaps they were born for each other… but Argrave preferred to think they had reached this understanding this through their own efforts. Mostly Anneliese’s efforts, frankly, but Argrave had some small part.

Argrave looked at Jaray with conviction, saying, “Then let’s broker this deal.” Jaray’s expression brightened with joy, until Argrave continued to speak. “Provided, of course, that Lorena can join us. She can prepare us for this negotiation better than anyone. After all, who better to walk us through than someone who’s been through the same experience?”

Jaray looked back at Argrave, puffing the pipe in his mouth as everyone waited wordlessly. In those dark eyes of his, Argrave spotted the enemy he should’ve from the beginning. Involving Lorena was an unspoken challenge against Jaray, who seemed to be the emissary for the Heralds. In the midst of her earnest pleas, he heard the words he’d been searching for. The dragons had stopped Gerechtigkeit from manipulating and controlling flesh. That was near a mirror to their problem—control of the mind.

“Lorena can speak for herself,” Jaray looked at her.

“I only want to avoid repeating any mistakes.” Argrave focused on the dragon earnestly, peering into the brightness in her eyes for the passion he still felt even today. “Can you help me with that?”

Argrave couldn’t see himself cutting a deal with these Heralds. Instead, he intended to challenge all the vested interests standing behind Jaray. He intended to challenge the Heralds in the same manner they had him; indirectly, through proxy and manipulation. He hoped to remind Lorena, a hero of ages past, of why she’d fought to begin with.

Lorena smiled, revealing too-sharp teeth as her eyes brightened. “You won’t regret this, Argrave.”

Argrave gripped Anneliese’s hand, looking at her. She nodded in affirmation, silently joining him in this battle as she had countless before. They knew and understood the other’s aim. But with the Heralds watching, they would need to be silent schemers.

Chapter 11

“I’m pleased that we were able to walk away from this peaceably,” Lorena said to them. She had resumed laying on her bed made of her ridiculously-long tail.

Jaray had long ago left, but Argrave didn’t think for a moment that the god of politics wasn’t capable of hearing them. The Heralds had shown to have a sort of omniscience over the world of such intensity that they were able to convey to Dario what Durran was saying through Elenore’s blessing of connection. The only thing that would be spared their scrutiny were the thoughts in their head—and even that was up for question.

“I never want conflict. I try to avoid it, as I hope you know,” Argrave reminded her calmly, sitting side-by-side with Anneliese.

“My daughter would be angry at me if I wasn’t on good terms with you.” Her reptilian eyes phased and settled on Anneliese. “She is a very ardent supporter, Anneliese. She’s been watching for a long time.”

“A supporter of me?” Anneliese put a hand to her chest.

“Indeed. You have a red-haired lookalike, at times. She made her mortal form in your image. She idolizes you.” Lorena smiled. “She’s been watching you somewhat obsessively since Argrave halted the war, and you caught her eye. She’d be rather embarrassed to hear me tell you this. Hopefully it’ll make her come out of the house…”

“There’s much to idolize,” he said as he held Anneliese’s hand. Argrave looked up at the moon, which was just barely beginning to phase behind some distant mountains. “The dragons are always watching us from up there? Your deal with the Heralds… it sounds so strange to me. All the tales we’ve read say that the dragons come as ugly women, picking out nice men.”

“The Heralds culled every one of our men, and ensured there would never again be more,” Lorena said as if it didn’t affect her as she used her claw-like nails to carve markings in the nearby stone. “They placed severe restrictions on how we could reproduce. Our population can never again exceed what it was at the time we made the deal. We’ve… adapted. But I’m here to be sure that you won’t experience something like that. And I do also intend to help you with what you originally sought me out for, Jaray be damned.”

Argrave’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean stopping Gerechtigkeit’s mental influence?”

“Of course.” Lorena nodded. “It’ll be doubly needed once you’re gone, free of this world.”

“How did you come to make this deal?” Anneliese questioned, leaning forth on her seat. “How did you come to live on the moon?”

“How far back need I go?” Lorena asked, but continued before an answer came. “My situation was not so dissimilar to yours. I had lived through two comings of Gerechtigkeit. My people, the dragons, were always the foremost defenders. We were the most powerful species, and our intelligence was without peer. But we were solitary, prone to isolation. We all hated each other.”

“What of the dragons here?” Argrave questioned curiously. “How do they relate?”

“Pah.” She snapped her fingers, sending cascading sparks up into the air. “Comparing us to the ‘dragons’ you see today… that’s the equivalent of comparing humans and monkeys. It’s insulting.”

“No offense meant.” Argrave held his hands out. “You were saying?”

“I united every single one of my own kind. Every dragon of a similar lineage to mine was brought together, either by charisma, subjugation, or in many cases, marriage. You’re familiar with that story, I suspect.” Lorena held out her arms, and her tail thumped against the ground as if to betray her pride. “And with them at my back, we achieved much the same thing that you did. We brought most of the world under our control—not for personal glory, but for the shared purpose of utterly vanquishing Gerechtigkeit. And like you, we eventually found Sandelabara.”

“And Sophia,” Anneliese guessed.

“Not quite.” Lorena sighed deeply. “We found the city only because Gerechtigkeit had arrived there first. It wasn’t buried quite so deeply as when you had found it. He couldn’t break the hold of the prison the Heralds had crafted, not immediately. But they feared he could, so they came to us. The Heralds asked that we do nothing more than fight and kill Gerechtigkeit, offering…” She shook her head. “I can’t even remember what it was. I didn’t consider it for a moment. I felt invincible. I was the strongest living being alive. I had killed gods. I had been to the moon, even then.”

“Given what you mentioned earlier… the Heralds helped Gerechtigkeit,” Anneliese said somberly.

Lorena looked upward at the moon. “They did. It… nothing haunts me more, to this day. Hordes of undead, automatons, and other such beings… I had cut Gerechtigkeit’s army in half by creating a device that prevented him from manipulating flesh. Back then, he could create hulking chimeras out of the flesh of many unintelligent races without the will to resist, wielding them as an extension of himself—I put an end to that, harnessing the energy of the moon that had so long empowered my kin to create something that might be called a mirror. That power came to hurt him, terribly.” She shook her head. “That tremendous victory made me arrogant. For days, we fought… then, we suffered betrayal from certain gods. When the war began, there were eighty thousand of my brothers and sisters.”

“And at the end?” Argrave asked.

Lorena looked away from the moon. “Nine hundred and one. And it remains that number, with small variations as we live and die, to this day.”

“Gods…” Anneliese exclaimed.

“When next the Heralds approached us, the fighting had lulled, but the future remained uncertain. There had only been crushing defeat after crushing defeat. Then, Jaray came to us. He had always been exceptionally helpful in keeping the deities in line with our ideals, but this time, he spoke for the Heralds. They would switch sides. The terrible power that Gerechtigkeit had been wielding would come to our wings. We would be allowed to live on.”

“…or you’d be killed, to the last,” Argrave finished.

“You see?” Lorena raised her hands. “Do you see why I cautioned you so, advised you so? If only I could go back… if only I could’ve known…” She shook her head. “I’ve been ruing that day every day that I’m allowed to continue being. I don’t want you to make the same mistake. You’re a good man, Argrave. You deserve a better fate than I gave my people.”

As Argrave looked upon her, he finally placed something. Her words had always seemed frantic, even desperate—it was almost as though she was still trying to convince herself, to this very day, that her choices had been the correct ones. Or perhaps he just hoped that was the case.

“It makes me question why the Heralds don’t just control things in that way all of the time,” Anneliese said ponderously.

“I know for a fact it costs them,” Lorena explained. “And they can’t persist outside of a willing host, as you know. But those that they inhabit can exhibit terrifying powers. A lich under Gerechtigkeit’s sway became capable of matching a dragon physically. It destroyed him, undying soul and all, yet he killed hundreds of my kin. Dragons were as gods, then, not the monkey-like ones you’ve encountered.”

“And in the end, the deal…?” Argrave crossed his arms, listening expectantly.

“We had to give them vessels—sacrifices, from our own kind. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but some of our own volunteered. The Heralds used them to reclaim Sandelabara. Once there, they reinforced the prison around Sophia, and kept their word. They changed our physiology in such a way that we had to keep our word. The moon was made a habitable place for our kind, and we can only leave it when the conditions align.”

“What are these conditions?” Anneliese inquired.

“In true form, we are entirely infertile. This necessitates prevailing upon mortals down here. You know, roughly, of our courtship. It has subtler details, but I shan’t divulge them. Suffice to say, twins are born. One child remains of their father’s species—the so-called lunar descendants—and they cannot remain on the moon. The other child, however, is a trueborn female dragon. We are only capable of reproducing while in heat—and only while in heat can a dragon come here without perishing. Rather grotesquely, it is only the death of another that triggers heat. Though rest assured, I am an exception. I can walk freer than my brothers and sisters.”

“Rather… draconian measures.” Lorena and Anneliese both looked at him with stone-eyed glares, and he cleared his throat and carried on. “Why didn’t they kill you? Sophia’s power can’t kill, but it could change you in such a way that you would die nonetheless. Why keep their word?”

“I have often wondered that myself.” Lorena traced a scar on her neck with her sharp nails. “They easily could have. I don’t think they were barred from doing so, but I can’t be certain. Perhaps they have some honor. Or perhaps they anticipated this day, where they would need an example of defiance to prompt cooperation. Either way, they did nothing more than was agreed.”

“And what about Gerechtigkeit?” Anneliese asked.

“Hmm?” Lorena looked at her, confused.

“Gerechtigkeit—what was their deal with him?” Argrave answered for her. “It sounds to me like they betrayed him.”

“I can’t know that, I’m afraid.” Lorena shrugged.

“Well… thank you for sharing,” Argrave concluded, giving solemn nods. “It can’t be easy, reliving that.”

“It’s not for me, it’s for you. And I’ve spent countless generations teaching the younger ones that same lesson. I hope only that you’ll heed it.” Lorena rose to her feet. “Now—while Jaray is doing his part with the Heralds, I intend on helping you with the question of your bloodline. Orion possesses a sharp intuition, and that’s not coincidence.”

“Alright,” he answered eagerly. “That wasn’t something that we expected, honestly. All we ask is that you not bring up this matter of a negotiation with the Heralds,” Argrave continued. “For now, at least, let’s focus on one thing alone—ending Gerechtigkeit’s mental influence before it becomes unmanageable.”

Chapter 12

“It always surprised me that you never picked up on what the Gilderwatchers truly were,” Lorena said as she looked out across Blackgard from atop the mountain ranges encircling it. They were waiting for someone’s arrival. “You had been to the Great Chu. You had seen their depictions of dragons—even seen some of the creatures yourselves. I suppose your preconception of the idea of them as ‘feathered serpents’ warped your sensibilities.”

Argrave listened to her words, and as he did, his eyes warped as he went through various stages of consideration—confusion, realization, then utter disbelief. He twisted his head and looked at her with wide eyes, questioning, “You can’t be serious.”

“I can. I knew the Gilderwatchers in their height. In structure, the Gilderwatchers have far more in common with us than they do snakes, or the monkey-dragons you can see today.” She kneaded the palm of her hand with her fingers as she talked idly. “They might be the only species of dragon that was ever fully united—but even in unity, they had no desire to dominate.”

“That’s good, then. If you’re both dragons, it’ll make this whole process easier, right?” Argrave waited for her to continue.

“My kind have mastery over flesh.” She held up her hand, and it shifted in countless ways in only a few second—it had scales in one moment, skin in the next, a carapace in the third, until coming back to as it had been. “It was much easier for us to discover how, exactly, cross-breeding affected the resulting mortal offspring. But the Gilderwatchers… they have domain over the soul. Vasquer was the first to ever succeed in creating viable offspring. I have deep knowledge of the changes. To answer your question… yes, it’ll be easier.”

“How did Vasquer actually have children with Felipe?” Anneliese began in cautious curiosity.

“A lady never tells,” Lorena said coyly, lightly tapping Anneliese’s nose. She bounced back in surprise. “Suffice to say the primary change in the royal family isn’t in the flesh, but the soul.”

“So I’d be invalidated, then.” Argrave crossed his arms, feeling a mite disappointed.

“I said the ‘primary’ change. There is plenty in your flesh. Besides, souls aren’t as honest as the flesh. They tend to be what we believe we are.” Lorena studied Argrave with her piercing bright eyes. “If you were entirely disqualified, you wouldn’t have been able to speak with Vasquer, or meld into the Tree of Being. But you can do both, despite the fact that your soul is foreign to the body it inhabits.”

“Fair point.” Argrave nodded, then saw an organic way to probe for information. “Can the Heralds read thoughts? Are you privy to the contents of those meetings?”

“They cannot. They can only read the thoughts of hosts. Why—is there something I should know?” Lorena studied him.

“Nothing I can think of.” Argrave shrugged, feeling some secret joy—their ploy had worked, and the watching Heralds would be unaware of Argrave and Anneliese’s intent to work to turn Lorena against them. “What’s the plan for us?”

Lorena looked up and into the distance—specifically, toward the sunrise. “It’s showing itself right now.”

Just then, the one that they’d been waiting for finally reared his head—specifically, Raven came out from his lab, manipulating his hands in such a way that the copious amounts of disgusting viscera clinging to it fell to the ground below. He looked at Lorena, then at Argrave.

“What kind of creature did you bring to me?” He asked in considerable alarm—far more than he usually expressed. Argrave debated whether or not Raven was the plan she had mentioned.

One of Lorena’s eyes looked at him, while the other remained fixed where it had been. “Raven? Hmm.” A lone eye looked to Argrave, and she spoke to him as if Raven wasn’t here. “I heard what he said about unlocking your bloodline. He was right, at least, in the necessity of the corpse of that silver knight. It could be considered a catalyst for the creation of the mirror necessary to rebuff Gerechtigkeit’s probing into the mind.” Both of her eyes focused on Raven. “As for what kind of creature Argrave brought… hello, Raven. I am Lorena, a dragon of the moon.”

Raven shifted on his feet. “You’re dangerous.”

“So long as you know that, we’ll get along fine,” she dismissed casually.

Anneliese watched her suspiciously. Lorena had more emotions wrapped up in Raven that she let on.

Lorena turned one eye to Argrave, and as if to distract everyone, asked, “Didn’t you once agree to watch every sunrise with your wife? My daughter was upset you don’t do that anymore.”

Argrave straightened his back. “That’s… no, it was the sunset. But it became impractical, things being as they are.” He looked at Anneliese somewhat guiltily, but it faded when she concurred with what he said with a silent nod.

“And your sigil is the sun,” Lorena continued. “Well… either it was calling out to you, or it was simply some lucky coincidence.” Lorena pointed forward, where the suns rose over distant mountains beyond those of Blackgard. “I’m rather confident that the key to unlocking your power, Argrave, lies in the sun.”

Argrave crossed his arms. “I’m not particularly eager to pay a visit. You’re sure?”

“Indeed. It’s the safest bet,” Lorena confirmed, looking at him with a nod. “The only other option would be that of the planet’s core, but that’s something that Gerechtigkeit will be able to interfere with—as you’ve seen in some abundance.”

“Alright… I’ll be generous and assume you don’t want me to self-immolate. Still—which one?” Argrave looked up, shielding his eyes with his hand. Even so early in the morning, it was still bright and annoying to look at. “The moon I can understand—that’s a solid place that you can land on, walk around. Maybe it’s even far different, far better, than what I’m picturing in your home. But a star? A star, with heat ranging upward of many millions of degrees?”

“You’ll interface with it in a different way than I never could. I formed a relationship with the moon, changing it—its surface wasn’t always red. The moon, you see, is as alive as you or me,” Lorena said. “Just as both of the suns, and every star.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Raven cut in, gaining back some of his boldness.

“Speaks the man who’s never been to space, despite his countless forays to correct that.” Lorena looked at him. “Bottom line, it’s all alive. The moon, the suns, even the earth.”

Raven looked disgruntled. “They’ve never demonstrated any signs of life.”

“Have they not? The only reason we are both able to live, Raven, is because of light from the suns. That says something. Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t so. It may not be as we understand it, but the masses adrift in space are alive. They cannot be compared to plants, or to all of us different sorts of animals waddling about, but they are alive. Somehow.”

“How do you know?” Anneliese asked.

“Because I spoke to the moon. I made a pact with it. And I’ve spoken to the planet—a friendly sort. Despite all that we’ve done to it—mining and such—it isn’t too bothered.” She looked at Argrave. “You have to do the same with the suns, now. Have a lovely conversation, charm him and her, and then ask for a deal.” Lorena crossed her arms and said in distant remembrance, “Our deal with the moon wasn’t so bad. They don’t have the typical wants and desires we associate with living things. But then, I’ve never spoken to a star before. Very hot—could burn even me. I’ve tried to speak with it, some, and it’s… never worked. But I’m not you.”

Argrave walked around, staring at the sunrise. “I seem to be less capable of space travel than you.”

She looked at Raven. “You won’t be going in person. I came to this one for that very reason.”

Argrave looked at Raven. He had assumed that they had come here seeking this man to retrieve the corpse of the silver knight who bore Lindon’s essence. At the notion that he might be involved, Argrave got uneasy.

“Your body won’t go,” Lorena continued. “But your soul will. Has to be you, I’m pretty sure. All of your siblings’ souls wouldn’t live that long separated from their body. So, you’ll part ways with your flesh, head to the stars, and strike a deal with one of the suns. There are more details, but I’ll spare them for now. You’ll need the silver knight’s corpse.”

Argrave took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the gravity of the task. “If separating from the body would kill my siblings outright, I can’t imagine it’d feel great for me.”

Lorena smiled, her sharp teeth poking past her lips. “You’re suffering from greatness. I’m sorry that you’re so special, but unfortunately you are.” She looked at Raven. “But he knows a thing or two about a thing or two, and I’m not so uneducated myself. I don’t have much doubt that Gerechtigkeit is going try to interfere, and he has liches on his side—liches which similarly have undying souls. So, you should practice before you go.”

Argrave had just settled into the feeling of being quite powerful. With Anneliese being at his side, he felt as though there was no opponent that he couldn’t confront. But separating from his body, and heading to space to speak to a sun?

“I want to see Lindon’s remnants,” Lorena continued. “Meanwhile, you should start practicing leaving your body with Raven. Just make sure there aren’t any hostile necromancers lingering about—it could end very poorly.”

“I’d like to go over your theories, first,” Raven interjected forcefully. “Especially before we ever stake Argrave’s life on anything.”

Lorena walked up to him, step-by-step. She was the same size as Argrave, but she felt far larger than even Raven did as she stood before him. She scrutinized him carefully.

“Why do you insist on keeping this form?” Lorena asked him.

Raven said nothing for a time, perhaps surprised by the question. Then, he said simply, “What business is it of yours?”

“None, I suppose. I just think it’s a shame… quite a shame. Speaking as a fellow shapeshifter, of course.” She shook her head. “We can review my theory. I suspect you’ll have fewer doubts once Argrave better explains who, and what, I am. For now… shall we go inside?”

Raven stepped aside, parting the obsidian door to his laboratory. She walked inside, her long hair and tail trailing just behind her. Once she was out of sight, Argrave walked up.

“You can think of another way, right?” He asked hopefully. “The soul leaving the body—that’s death, right? There’s surely another way.”

#####

Argrave laid on the operating table, prepared to die.

As it turned out, Argrave’s vouching for Lorena was more than enough for Raven to take her seriously. After a cursory review of her theories and studies, they’d decided to immediately move forward to the first instance—a test run, so to speak. Practice.

“Don’t you think we should have someone else try this beforehand?” He asked, looking up at Raven. “Maybe we could get the New Traugott that Anneliese caught.”

“I have done this several times.” Raven read through a book.

“You?” Argrave asked in surprise. “That’s… reassuring, actually. What’s it like, separating the soul from the body?”

“Have you not read Erlebnis’ collection?” Raven answered idly.

“I have, but I want some firsthand experience. Give me… an analogy, maybe. A metaphor,” Argrave prompted hopefully.

“When I was human…” Raven looked away from his book. “I once voyaged to sea, with several others.”

Argrave’s expression brightened. “It’s like a voyage at sea?”

“When night fell, I became slightly too drunk and fell overboard. The ocean was freezing, I could no longer tell which way was up and down, and the thrashing ocean and haunting sounds rattled my skull.” He looked back to his book. “It was a little like that.”

Argrave sighed, and Anneliese held his hand. “You’ll be fine. You always are. Lorena was right—you’re special,” she teased.

“Yeah, and you’re funny. Funny-looking,” he countered weakly.

“Are you ready?” Raven questioned.

“Yes. Kill me,” Argrave commanded.

“As you wish…” Raven produced an implement.

“You said it wasn’t like death,” Argrave sat up quickly.

“Relax. That was a joke,” Raven said.

Argrave laid back down, relieved.

Raven brought down the implement, and when it was moments away from meeting flesh, said, “It’s almost exactly like death.”

Chapter 13

Anneliese watched the rise and fall of Argrave’s chest to remind herself that he still breathed. She could see a stunning lack of presence with her [Truesight]—and elsewhere in the obsidian chamber, saw Argrave’s golden soul brimming with vitality far removed from where it should be. She couldn’t fully describe the implement that Raven had used, but she was near certain that he had once used the same thing to clash together Garm’s and Durran’s souls.

“What will he actually be experiencing?” Lorena questioned as she stared down at the motionless body of Argrave.

A new face appeared on the side of Raven’s body, and it asked her, “You don’t know?”

“I didn’t know if it would work, even if my theories were sound,” the dragon said honestly, and Anneliese looked up at her in surprise. “My whole life, I’ve acted with confidence even when I haven’t had it. I suppose the two are indistinguishable from one another.”

“I’ve anchored his soul to his body, but displaced it.” Raven pointed elsewhere in the room—particularly, where Argrave’s soul lingered. “His objective is merely to find his way home to repossess his body. After, we’ll move onto more advanced doings—heading to a separate location, and then returning to his body. As for ‘what,’ well…” Raven paused, searching for words—something that was very infrequent for him. “There is nothing in this world like experiencing life through soul alone. The possibilities feel limitless, yet are nonetheless tightly constrained by the world itself.”

Lorena raised a brow. “You make it sound almost… fun.”

“As fun as any drug. It’s a thrill-seeker’s paradise.” Raven shook his head. “I cannot recommend it because of that.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Still, how long do you think it’ll take for Argrave?” Lorena pressed.

“Getting impatient?” He asked her.

“No.” Lorena shook her head distantly. “Gerechtigkeit’s not the only one who’s used to waiting for a single chance—a single opportunity, presenting itself after millennia of nothing.” Her bright eyes flared brilliantly, and Anneliese studied her face intensely. Lorena quickly added, “After all, my people mate very infrequently, and live very long lives.”

Lorena and Anneliese’s eyes met, only for the young queen’s gaze to break away and look back to Argrave uncertainly. She cast continued glances in the direction of the dragon, feeling some vague nugget of hope yet not daring to voice it lest it be a ruse. Her words about opportunity… could they mean Lorena need no convincing to betray? Or could she working for the Heralds even still, attempting to lure them out by implying her resolve was weak? Whatever the case, Anneliese could not confide the plan.

“On the matter of your people, how do you watch us?” Raven inquired of Lorena as they all waited for Argrave.

“The moon is our conduit,” Lorena explained. “We tap into it to scry. The pact that I’ve formed with it allows as much. It becomes, metaphorically speaking, a gigantic eye that we use to peer upon this planet. It doesn’t see as we understand, but it does ‘see.’ I know that doesn’t make much sense. It takes a long while to learn how to use its sight, but once you do…” She looked up at Raven. “We can know everything, everywhere.”

Raven looked back at her. “I dislike that.”

Lorena laughed heartily. “Why? You mislike having some secret research of yours out in the public?”

“If you’ve seen all, you know my personal failings.” Raven clenched his fist. “Argrave and his coterie being vaguely privy was already far too many for my liking. But now, a whole people know.”

“Of course we know—and we sympathize, Raven. You were a child playing with something you don’t understand,” she said, then shook her head. “You can’t be blamed for what damage you did.”

“How could you even guess what I did and didn’t understand?” Raven asked, a touch of anger in his icy voice.

“Because my kind had been dealing with your problem for generations before I was even born. You call subsuming the flesh of another ‘potentiation.’ We have a similar word for it in our tongue. Much of our childhood is spent learning and adapting to it. You lost yourself to it because you had no one to teach you.” Lorena touched his arm. “Despite that, you did as best you could. You overcame it. With some help, granted, but you did.”

Anneliese’s gaze jumped between Raven and Lorena. She could see the disbelief etched in the typically-unreadable Raven as he asked, “Your people are like me?”

“We’re not even a tenth as moody.” She pinched his arm, and he pulled it away in surprise. “But in the most important ways, sure.”

Before Raven could press further, Argrave sat up, inhaling deeply. He clutched his head and felt his body frantically, then laid back down.

“I’m back.” He nodded, staring at the obsidian ceiling. “I’m back. Not fake. Real.”

Lorena clapped quietly. “The special one returns. How was it?”

Argrave took some time to gather himself, gently rubbing his chest. “The clouds tried to strangle me as I crossed the moat of pointed trees aflame with accusatory fire.” He looked between them all and beheld their confused faces, then clarified, “It’s like lucid dreaming, but the dream itself is also alive and lucid, and it hates you.”

“An apt description.” Raven concurred with a solemn nod. “It could be compared to a battle between souls, yet without an active enemy besides from the forces of the world that seek to claim the soul. Argrave and I experience it exceptionally acutely, because our souls can entirely resist the brutal tides that seek to erase our very existence.”

“Alright… yeah. Yeah, I think I’m starting to get the lay of the land.” Argrave looked at Lorena. “So—have you done the thing with Lindon’s ‘body?’”

“Yeah, it’s prepared. You just have to practice.” She gave him a thumbs up.

Anneliese gripped Argrave’s hand. “Do you think you were in danger?”

“No, not really,” he said, squeezing her hand tight as his other hand scratched the side of his neck. “I had a diamond fishhook stuck in my neck. Raven was sitting on his big red boat, reeling me in at all times. Even when I had those cement shoes on, there’s no way I could’ve hit rock bottom.”

Anneliese’s stomach stirred hearing the descriptors, but Raven clarified, “Argrave is tightly anchored. This is a tool that I’ve used myself extensively, and still I walk. Rest easy. True danger will come only when he ventures above, seeking the suns. There, Gerechtigkeit will come, sending souls that he owns to combat him. And Argrave should be prepared—meaning, well-practiced.”

“It’s not dangerous, I promise. Not with Raven watching. What I’m worried about is Elenore dealing with the Blackgard Union, and Sophia.” Argrave raised his hand to Anneliese’s shoulder, then gripped it. “Look after them, please. Make sure everything goes perfectly. I can go back in the belly of the white whale with peace in my mind knowing you’re out there, keeping an eye on things.”

Anneliese gave him a hug, then said into his ear, “Alright. You know… I think you might have the opportunity to clash souls with Raven.”

Her words contained nothing, but hinted at opportunity—namely, opportunity to loop Raven in on their plan, without the Heralds catching wind of it.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Argrave answered back, a hint of knowing on his tone.

“I’ll amend that,” Raven added, ignorant of their plan.

#####

“He does work quite hard,” Lorena marveled as Argrave’s body again assumed the de-souled state.

“They all do,” Raven agreed, ever the vigilant monitor. “It’s quite a thing to see competency assembled. It only comes in times of great change—when the old is wiped away and replaced with something else. It’s only something competent than can uproot deeply entrenched systems, after all.” He turned his head to look down at her.

“What?” Lorena stared back at him, unflinching.

Raven asked, “Was what you said true?”

“About your situation being not as unique as you think it is?” She shrugged. “Yes. My kind can subsume others just as you can. Nobody’s ever done as much damage as you, I’ll give you that, but you weren’t acting alone. People tried to use you as a force of change. They fostered your rampage. You were caught between countless forces, shepherded and corralled every which way until you grew too big to be contained.” She pointed at him. “I saw it all. It was a painful tragedy for all involved. You alone can’t be held responsible.”

Raven was the first to break from their staring contest, looking instead at Argrave to escape her soul-piercing eyes. “I was still the catalyst. I was responsible for the death of a continent.”

“And I’m responsible for the near-extinction of my people, and their present miserable state.” She poked her head back into his vision, reptilian eyes gleaming like stars. “I suppose you were absent when I told those two about it. Well… forget it. I’m not retelling the tale. Suffice to say, I speak from personal experience when I say that making a monster of yourself in the eyes of all who look doesn’t help you repent. More importantly, it doesn’t do anything for the people who you hope to impart a lesson upon.”

Raven’s lip curled as he said, “Are you suggesting I become more like you—carefree, relaxed, obnoxious?”

Lorena only laughed at what was his obvious deprecation of her character. “No, never that. It’s far more spiriting, though, to be a symbol of hope in the wake of failure, or to be a promise of redemption in the face of disgrace.”

Raven shook his head decisively. “I cannot be that which I am not.”

Lorena clicked her tongue. “For someone whose form is so dynamic, you strangely believe that personalities are static. People can change—even you.” She waved her hand at him dismissively. “Whatever. You’ll understand when you’re older,” she teased.

Raven looked disgruntled, unable to deny for the first time in a long time that someone was far older than he was. It was hard to accept, frankly, because he found her somewhat immature, constantly flicking and pinching people as she did. He detested being pinched. It was hard to stay dignified, doubly so when her fingers had the strength of a vice.

“So—when do you think he’ll be ready for more than practice?” She focused back on Argrave.

“He’s too valuable to risk without full preparation.” Raven leaned over Argrave, glad to speak of business again. “Before I consent to allowing him to journey to the stars, he has to beat me.”

“Beat you how?” Lorena asked curiously.

“In a clash of souls.” Raven straightened his back. “Gerechtigkeit will throw souls of all stripes up against Argrave. I have little doubt he will personally commandeer them. I consider my soul among the strongest in the world. If he can overcome me, he can overcome any pathetic lich’s soul.”

“That could seriously hurt either of you,” Lorena noted.

“I won’t fight—only defend. The risk will be to me alone.” He looked at her. “It’s rather like a grown adult teaching a child how to fight. Even if they do land a punch, it won’t truly injure me.”

“This child seems like to hide a knife and stab you when you least suspect,” she mused as she looked upon Argrave. “Oh, but you’ll be fine, I’m sure. Surely.”

#####

The days of practice were incredibly intense for Argrave. Whenever Raven lowered his soul-rending implement to Argrave’s chest, there was a terrifying boundary that greeted him that could easily be likened to the feeling of death. Argrave had never died so far as he knew, but he was so certain that it was death that he could make no other comparisons. It was like teetering on the edge of the event horizon, where that all-consuming black hole threatened to swallow his universe. Every time, it felt he barely dodged it.

But after bypassing death, Argrave entered life of another kind—existence as a soul. He hadn’t known it, but he had already gained some experience in the field in the past—specifically, he’d gained it in the Shadowlands, when he’d fought back the hounds of hunger that the Hopeful sent forth to devour his memories. He had been fighting, then, with his very soul.

To exist in the soul was to dream. Argrave didn’t know what implications that had for dreams themselves, but to exist as a soul could be compared to a never-ending struggle against the perception of the fact that one was dreaming. Lucidity, clarity, self-awareness—these were the weapons that Argrave had to brandish against the pull of ignorance, oddity, and comfort. So long as he knew what he was doing, he was winning—but if the distractions the dream threw at him proved too much, that black hole of death might suck him away.

No psychedelics could compare to the pure oddity of being a soul. His own imagination conspired to lull him into the long sleep, while fighting against it was his ego. At first, focusing on objectives had been incredibly difficult. As was his nature, though, he found a solution—gamifying everything. It gave him tangible things to work with, but was a double-edged sword. If he found himself too immersed in the game, he might lose it all.

Argrave couldn’t quite say that he was able to float about in the mortal world as a little quaint golden sprite, but so long as he knew what needed to be done before he left his body, he could get it done. It felt like he lived eighty lifetimes in eight hours. It was intoxicating, almost addicting, but intensely terrifying at the same time. The fear was part of the appeal—the genuine risk to the fantastic oddities made them all the more tantalizing to experience.

He wouldn’t say so aloud lest he sound insane, but he immensely enjoyed every practice session. Until, that is, they came to the last exercise.

The fight against Raven.

Chapter 14

“You should know, beforehand…” Raven began to caution Argrave. “I’m intimately familiar with this process.”

“A battle of souls?” Argrave stared up at him as he laid down on the table, waiting for the stamp to land on his passport and send him to the dream world.

“Indeed.” Raven looked at the implement in his hand. “When I was the Smiling Raven, every time I subsumed a living thing, I had a battle.” He turned his inhuman gray eyes toward Argrave. “And still I stand before you. Lorena has clarified that it is because I have an undying soul that I was able to potentiate so many living beings. She is… knowledgeable. Despite how she acts.” He could sense a vague hint of annoyance on Raven’s noseless face—then again, annoyance was his default state of being.

“Is that so?” Argrave took a deep breath. “That’s neat. I’m glad she can help you.”

“Indeed. Her kind can potentiate just as I can, but never before was a dragon of her kind born with an undying soul. Their souls would die, or fracture, when they bit off more than they could chew. Mine, however, would not perish so easily. It could bear the burden of being Smiling Raven.”

Argrave felt it was some revelation, but didn’t know if the information would help him. He started jokingly, “Well, you’ve never gone up against an undying—”

“On the contrary,” Raven interrupted. “I have gone up against one like you. The result stands before you.”

“Okay…” Argrave closed his eyes, digesting that. “I’m starting to see why you think this is a fitting test, then. Let’s—”

Raven slammed the implement against Argrave’s chest, and Argrave’s vision blurred as he drifted away.

Argrave opened his eyes with a gasp, and felt familiar ground touching against his face. He rose, quickly, coming to terms with this process of leaving the body. At the beginning of departing his body, Argrave always appeared in the same location—a reflection of his inner self. Durran had said that he appeared in the Burnt Desert in his battle against Garm, while the High Wizard himself had appeared in a field of black roses.

Argrave’s inner mind was Blackgard, but not as it was at present—rather, it was how he hoped it could be many years in the future. A blend of both the fantastic world that he found himself within, and the modern world he’d come from. His Blackgard of the mind had both elves and supermarkets, both electricity and magic, and both wyverns and planes. It tended to go off the rails pretty quick as the world fought against him, twisting his imagination to its own ends.

Standing in opposition, however, was a nightmarish scene vaguely familiar to Argrave. A black bird as large as the skyscrapers on Argrave’s city stood opposed to him. On its chest was a face—Raven’s face when he had been human, wreathed in the black feathers of the bird. The Smiling Raven didn’t have that haunting smile Argrave remembered, nor did it hold the orb that contained Hause. Countless stakes had been driven into its body, chains attached to the end of each. Statues embedded in the abyssal landscape around held the chains tightly. These statues were brilliant, golden, heroic—almost angelic. Argrave recognized most of the statues—he was one of them. His statue held the largest chain, its gargantuan stake embedded directly into the bird’s face.

Argrave stared the face down, until…

“Here we are,” the face spoke. “Your enemies will not allow you to gawk as I have. I am nothing if not generous. Remember that, in the pain to come.”

Argrave realized it, then. In Raven’s mind, he was still the Smiling Raven. This was how he viewed himself. He believed he had merely been chained down by Argrave and others, not fully changed. The statues were the only things inside his head that resembled something heroic, something decent. And they all depicted people that were not him.

“There’s something we should talk about, before we begin.” Argrave held out his hand. “Here, the Heralds won’t hear us speak. We’ll communicate soul-to-soul. Best encryption I can ask for.”

“I suspected you wished to convey something. That is why I waited.” Raven’s chains rattled as she shifted. “Speak.”

“Buckle up.” Argrave took a breath. “Anneliese and I are in a little deep…”

#####

“You may be overreaching,” Raven cautioned. His face loomed high over Argrave, at least eighty times his size. “But, I agree in one thing. There is no harm in going along with the Heralds and seeing what they plan. You allow us time to position ourself advantageously.”

Argrave raised a brow. “I honestly thought you might’ve suggested taking their deal.”

“Because you don’t know me well at all. I am many things, but stupid is not one of them. The Heralds are what they accused you of being—a parasite. They benefit from our suffering and misery. In what way, I cannot begin to guess. The only way to deal with something of that nature is not to strike a deal; it is to purge them with every fiber we possess.” The chains rattled as Raven’s colossal form shifted. They strained, then snapped, the harsh sounds of ringing metal echoing in his ear.

“But you will come to know me,” Raven declared, spreading his wings wide. He was of such size that Argrave could not fit him in his vision. “You will know me very well, Argrave. I will leave who I am emblazoned in your very soul, for better or worse.”

Argrave stepped back, trying not to smile. “I haven’t been just talking, you realize.”

With his word, the group that he’d spent so much time creating in his mind came out of the alleys, pouring into the streets while brandishing their weapons. No longer did Argrave command an army of sword-wielding, spell-flinging soldiers. Instead, he had a well-drilled platoon of commandos, each carrying weapons that could deliver a fully-automatic load of S-rank enchanted bullets right into enemy lines.

It did somewhat embarrass him that his inner mindscape was a very heavily—and very badly—modded game of Heroes of Berendar. But he couldn’t deny that he also loved it more than anything.

“You shot me once before,” Raven noted as he looked upon the soldiers. “I think you’ll find this time goes a little differently than before.”

A fell power overtook Raven of such intensity that Argrave felt it rumble his chest. As soon as he felt it, he gave the command to his soldiers to fire. He heard gunfire, then felt a wave of tremendous energy as something stirred, something harsh enough make all the hairs on his neck stand on end.

What followed was a reminder that Argrave’s imagination could not conjure true horror.

There was a grim explosion, followed by an outpouring of nightmares that were of such intensity his mind warped to forget them as soon as he saw them. More attacks flew toward this modern Blackgard than there were bullets flying to combat them, and each of them was far more twisted than even the worst of the abominations he’d seen in the Shadowlands. His buildings, his people, his defenses…

Argrave came to understand that he was woefully unprepared to face hell itself. Then, everything ended all at once, leaving only blackness. Argrave thought death was coming… instead, a voice echoed. Raven’s.

“Return.”

#####

Argrave sat up, immediately grasping at his neck and breathing heavily.

“Less than a second.”

Argrave looked to his right. He’d grown used to Raven, somewhat, but now… even the mere sound of that voice triggered something primal in him that made him fear for his life. Argrave was no stranger to fear, and he fought to rein it in, holding Raven’s gaze as he sat there.

“With the Fruit of Being and that staff crafted by Artur, you could easily kill my physical form.” Raven rose to his feet. “But I hope this demonstrated that you’ve a soft core surrounded by a hard shell. Of course, there’s no ordinary scenario where someone could get to that soft core without going through the hard shell.” Raven pointed at Argrave. “Before I even contemplate risking your life, your core needs to be as hard as your shell.”

“Is that what it was like?” Argrave asked, barely able to speak. “The Smiling Raven, I mean. If it was that powerful, how could anyone beat that?”

Raven looked away. “No. The Smiling Raven was never that powerful. You faced my mind, my soul, my force of will. It survived the Smiling Raven. It was tempered in the most misery you can ever conceive of, and tested in battle more than one hundred million times. It is the product of an entire continent’s worth of lives, compressed into one being. My soul has both killed millions, and died millions of times. I experienced both.” He looked back. “The only person who I dare even suggest has experienced or caused more misery would be Gerechtigkeit. The calamity’s mind will be as hardened, if not more, than mine. And that is who I train you to fight, even if he would be acting through proxy.”

“Less than a second.” Argrave laughed. If he could grow nauseous anymore, he surely would be. This fear would take hours to abate, he was certain. He could only laugh in defeat as he asked, “How the fuck do I beat that?”

“I don’t know,” Raven responded calmly. “I don’t know at all. If I knew how to beat it, I would not have needed those statues you saw, chaining it down. It’s only because of you, and the chains Lindon made, that I was able to tame it.” Raven looked at the ground, and Argrave could tell there was some genuine frustration, genuine sorrow, in him at this moment. Raven looked up again. “But if anyone can beat it, I suspect it would be you.”

“Thanks, coach,” Argrave joked, falling back on that old coping mechanism. “You got lucky. A sucker punch, that’s all it was. I would’ve won if I hadn’t slipped.”

“Hmm.” Raven nodded. “I’ll give you some time. Meanwhile, I’ll do what we talked about.”

The lumbering figure left, leaving only the fear he’d caused behind. Argrave grappled with it as hard as he could. If he did this too many times too quickly, he feared he might become incontinent. The mere prospect of fighting that thing again sent shivers through his body. He punched his leg again and again to shake the feeling, but it stayed with him.

Raven… the Alchemist… he lived with that damn thing. The idea of that made Argrave feel an intense pity and sympathy for the man he’d once thought utterly despicable. Every single ounce of pain and misery that he’d caused others lived on, inside him. It was no wonder why he kept that monstrous form, and also no wonder why his mind was so powerful.

Argrave stood up—his legs were so shaky he fell to the ground. He rose, one thought on his mind.

He’s got a hundred million souls balled up into one in that soul of his. No way I do this alone. I need to do some theorycrafting with these guildmates of mine.

Chapter 15

“I think that the answer should be obvious.” Elenore stared Argrave down. “When you’re fighting an opponent, there’s only two ways to gain advantage. Strengthen your own side, or weaken theirs.”

Argrave narrowed his eyes at her suggestion. “Weakening him kind of defeats the purpose of this being a test, doesn’t it? If you turn down the difficulty when you get beaten into the dust, you don’t learn how to overcome the challenge. It’s… cheating, basically.”

Elenore shrugged. “Fine. Why are you even asking me? Ask Anneliese—she’s the one with magic.”

“I will. But in the meantime, I respect your opinion, too.” He leaned on her desk. “Besides, you were right alongside Orion and I when we melded into the Tree of Being, and you have the most experience around talking with Vasquer.”

“Alright…” Elenore stood up. “Then I reiterate—make him weaker. You aren’t playing a game, you’re fighting a war, a battle—and learning how to weaken Raven can be applied to Gerechtigkeit in much the same way. They’re similar, even, in how terrifying I find them.”

Argrave thought on it for a moment, then realized she did have a rather ironclad point. Beyond changing his own strategy, the only other option was to make the opposing side weaker. It was a skill that did have some hope of reapplication in the times to come.

He knocked her wooden desk with his knuckles. “See, and that’s why I came to you first. Thank you. You’ve given me a good foundation for me to ask the others about.”

“Hold on. You’re sure this… bizarre endeavor will stop Gerechtigkeit?” Elenore asked. “It’s important we be timely. I’ve started to make arrangements for some of the god’s agents to come and restore order—well, the gods that I trust, at the very least. Law’s Justiciars are already working to uphold it in the most badly-affected areas. But things are getting worse, day-by-day. Time was, we could stop suicide pacts before they’d even formed. But they keep growing and numbers, and they’re starting to throw themselves upon either our soldiers or their blades in numbers we can no longer realistically prevent.”

“Provided I can win…” Argrave nodded. “It’s as good as done.”

“Then beat his damned ass for me.” Elenore sat back down. “And shut the door on your way out. I’m busy enough as is.”

Argrave made to leave, a faint smile on his face. Before he could…

“Sophia keeps asking to see you,” Elenore called out as he opened the door slightly. When he looked back, her gray eyes met his own. “Might not hurt to pay her a visit. Boost that resolve, remind yourself what you’re fighting to protect.”

Argrave gave a steady nod, agreeing. Last time they’d spoken, Argrave had said that Sophia was like a daughter to him. Then, he’d gone out to get some smokes with Jaray. It was overdue to end that. And at her mention of people he wanted to protect, he already had some inspiration for what might weaken Raven.

#####

Argrave consulted the others about what he might do to win the fight against Raven. They had much the same thoughts that Elenore did, yet they added their own refinements that fit their character. Galamon in particular had the most poignant insight.

“Even if it hurts, fight again, and lose,” he’d instructed Argrave. “Learn how to fight against him without the weakness. Lose battle after battle, skirmish after skirmish, yet win the war.” The old Veidimen commander grabbed Argrave’s shoulder as he imparted his advice seriously. “It’s what I’ve done. I’ve suffered humiliating defeats more times than I can count. I’ve never lost a war, though. That’s key.”

As Argrave stared, Anneliese affirmed his opinion with a nod. “He’s right. Callous yourself. Nothing is better than experience.”

“You don’t seem to follow that advice,” he pointed out. “You just learn how to do things, and then do them. Even in battle, you just… figure it out, on the spot.”

“You aren’t me,” Anneliese reminded him. “Gaining from pain is essentially your favorite tactic. Why’re you looking for a different route?”

Argrave shook his head, annoyed at how well she knew him. “Why did I choose blood magic? Am I stupid?”

“I have asked that question of you many times,” Anneliese reminded him.

“Which one?” He looked at her, and she smiled coyly.

Argrave sighed, coming to terms with the fact he’d need to jump back into the wringer.

#####

After he’d gotten enough advice from his general to cram his head full of tactics he might employ, he did precisely what had been advised of him—endured hell. The second time was every bit as painful as the first, despite the fact that Argrave was preparing for its arrival. As was the third, the fourth, the fifth, the seventieth… time and time again, Argrave and all the forces his imagination could conjure were wiped out, and the confrontation was capped with a single world from Raven.

“Return.”

When he could endure no more, he took Elenore’s advice and paid a visit to Sophia to heal his soul. In so doing, he visited with someone he’d also been intending to reach out toward. After all… he’d still yet to weaken Raven at all.

“Hause,” he greeted. “Sophia.”

“Argrave!” Sophia broke away from the blonde goddess of potential, coming to rush over to him. He picked her up and held her high. She stared with bright red eyes and a smile, pleased merely to be held.

“Why were you with Hause?” he asked her, looking between her and the goddess.

“I thought…” Sophia began, but trailed off.

“Go ahead,” he prompted her.

“I thought I should… learn more about my power,” Sophia explained. “And Hause’s temple has the shelter, so she wanted to learn how to be relaxed around me.”

Argrave took a deep breath, ambivalent. He was proud Sophia was taking the initiative to understand her own power, but he was somewhat ashamed she had to do so much at such a young age.

“I’ll let you speak alone,” Hause said, dipping her head slightly.

“No. Stay,” Argrave stopped her. “Sophia… could you give us a moment?”

“Miss Hause didn’t do anything wrong,” Sophia insisted. “I was the one that asked first, Argrave.”

“It’s not about that,” Argrave assured with a smile as he set her on the ground. “How could I be mad at you? Like I said… you’re like a daughter to me. I meant it then, and I still mean it. And that’ll never change, unless you want it to. I want to talk to you in a minute, but this is another matter entirely.”

Sophia’s face lit up a little brighter, and then she obediently went to join her escort—one of Law’s Justiciars. Hause stood there patiently, hands crossed before her purple dress politely.

“What did you wish to speak of?” Hause asked.

“Two things,” Argrave said. “For one, I think it’s time to tell your people—your followers that survived, the ones he saved from the past—that Raven is still alive. That he saved them, and he still lives today.”

“What?” Hause’s eyes widened. “Raven… he’s ready for that? Ready to meet them, confront them?”

Argrave rubbed his hands together. “Sometimes, friends need to give friends the push they need to be better. That’s all.”

“Interesting.” Hause nodded. “You know this present form of his better than I do. I hope you’re right, for all our sakes.” She looked backward, into her temple. “Some of them have already guessed. I think… I think they’ll accept him, even as he is.”

“Raven managed to overcome his problems,” Argrave said, all but lying. “He’s becoming more human day by day. I think this proves that your ability isn’t as dangerous as you thought it was. And the coming circumstances… I think you’ll agree they necessitate a new font of power.” He walked forward. “That’s the second thing. I think it’s past time for you to start unlocking the potential of some of our allies.”

Hause’s jaw tightened. “You’ve seen the Smiling Raven—in spirit as much as in flesh, I’m told. Even Erlebnis’ shallow imitation in his vault rings in my head, to this day.” She shook her head firmly. “It’s too risky.”

“We’re getting to the point where it’s riskier not to do it,” Argrave said, looming over her. “Everything is relying on such a small group of people. I don’t want to live in a world where Blackgard remains safe, but every distant city dies because all of the power-hitters are comprised of my inner-circle. We need more power. We need more options.”

Hause couldn’t meet his eyes—perhaps because she knew he was right, or perhaps because he intimidated her. Either way, he backed away, feeling self-conscious.

“I’ll… consider it.” Hause ran a hand against her impeccably braided hair. “For now, shall we speak to my followers about Raven?”

“Let’s,” Argrave said, beckoning her forward.

There was some guilt in what he was doing. He knew Raven wouldn’t want this, but he did genuinely think it would be better in the long run for the man to know the people he’d saved when he was the Smiling Raven didn’t hate him.

And even more than that, he needed to point out Raven’s half-hearted attempts to persuade Hause to unlock people’s potential. He’d made little progress—or even effort—on that front.

With the Heralds and Gerechtigkeit both watching, they needed every advantage.

#####

After imparting the knowledge to all of Hause’s followers, Argrave returned to the regularly scheduled programming of dying miserably. That was all he could do while he waited for the seed to sprout roots. On the bright side… his efforts did result in something.

After what felt like an eternity of Raven battering Argrave with all manner of horrible abominations, they finally had what Argrave might dare call a real battle. In a minute-long exchange of firepower, his soldiers managed to cut enough of a hole in the relentless wave of chaos that they got a payload jam-packed with nuclear magic right onto Raven’s body. The resulting explosion burnt Argrave’s eyebrows right off… but it barely ruffled Raven’s feathers. Like a child fighting an adult, even once Argrave did land a hit, it didn’t amount to much.

After some point, Argrave actually became eager for the next battle. Eager enough to briefly forget the seed he’d sown while he was waiting for Raven to arrive in his lab. He stormed down through the ceiling like he was swimming through water instead of volcanic glass. He seized Argrave, and slammed him against the wall.

“You had no right to tell them I lived,” he said, true anger in his icy voice. “No right at all.”

Argrave sent out one of his blood echoes, swapping places with it. The moment he could breathe again, he said, “Maybe they had the right to know! Maybe they deserved to know!”

“Who are you to decide that?!” Raven took three steps forward.

Argrave stood defiantly. “You’re shaken that they don’t all hate you—admit it. You’re not half the damn monster you think you are, Raven, or half of the one you act like. You got dealt an awful hand, and you still did better than most anyone could’ve.” Argrave pointed to his heart with his thumb. “Even me, who you make a damned golden statue of.”

“Why do this? Why now?!” Raven demanded, throwing his tremendous arm wide.

“Perhaps because you’ve been dragging your feet in doing what you’re supposed to—convincing Hause to use her power for our cause.” Argrave tapped his chest. “Or perhaps because I’m your friend, and I want you to move past all this self-hatred you mire yourself in.”

Raven’s teeth ground against one another audibly. “No. No, I know you. You wanted to weaken me. You wanted to catch me by surprise, lower my defenses. Well… we’re taking a break for the day. You won’t rattle me, Argrave. I will not have you weak.”

Raven stared at Argrave with his gray eyes, eerily still. Argrave thought something might happen, but he merely turned and walked away, his steps heavy and hard. When he’d left, Argrave sunk to the floor, frustrated and defeated. He sat there for a long while, sorely regretting having missed the opportunity to reveal what he’d done mid-fight. It’d never seemed like the right time.

“Blew your chance?”

Argrave looked up just in time to see Lorena walk in the room. She had her arms behind her back and walked with a light-footed saunter.

“Maybe,” Argrave conceded. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Lorena sat on the table he was typically operated on, coiling her tail around her waist. She raised her hand, then effortlessly created a ward that encircled them to block listeners. “Want some help?”

“What, a tag-team?” Argrave chuckled.

“No, some advice.” She ran her hand across her tail. “I know Raven pretty well.”

“How?” Argrave narrowed his eyes. “You were on the moon before he was born.”

“Because I’ve been watching him for a long, long while.” Lorena smiled, almost sadly. “I… pity him, I suppose. But I also respect and admire him, and many things in between.”

“You’ve been watching him,” Argrave repeated. “Why?”

“All of my people were watching him when the Smiling Raven came to being,” Lorena continued. “Haven’t you ever wondered how he survived becoming such a thing? How he went from that, to the Alchemist?”

“He told me,” Argrave disclosed. “He cut away the emotions, and fixated himself on a task—stopping Gerechtigkeit, and researching various things that might aid in that cause.”

“How?” Lorena asked.

“How should I know? Ask him.” Argrave threw up one hand dismissively.

Lorena leaned in a little closer. “It was a rhetorical question. He wouldn’t know the answer, either. But I do. And all of the lunar dragons do, as well.”

Argrave narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“This isn’t the first time Raven and I have met,” Lorena disclosed.

Argrave felt his guts swirl. “You’re joking with me, right? Are you getting at what I think you are?”

Lorena said nothing, raising her brows and smiling until her sharp teeth faintly shone beyond her red lips.

“I always thought you were weird around him, but…” Argrave laughed. “You saved him? Why?”

“I did more than save him.” Lorena shook her head. “As for why… I saved him because he deserved saving. And I still hold the beliefs I held back then, now.”

Argrave looked into her eyes. He was almost certain there was something deeper to those words—not merely that she thought Raven was worth saving, but… the beliefs that she likely helped implant in him, the focus that he likely held even to this day.

Lorena had helped form the personality of the Alchemist—the Alchemist, single-mindedly focused on ending the cycle of judgment. If that was true… from the beginning, she was their ally against the Heralds.

“How’s that for a bomb to drop?” Lorena smiled. “He’s going too hard on you, and he knows it. The flies that Gerechtigkeit tries to kill you with won’t be a millionth as strong as his soul is. Tell him what I told you, and I’m positive dormant memories will resurface. Memories I suppressed. And then… you can win.”

“I can’t help but wonder if you’re trying to get me killed.” Argrave scratched his cheek. “But… hell. That’ll work. That’ll work, for sure. Thank you.”

Chapter 16

Not long after Argrave had agreed to accept Lorena’s help, Raven returned. Argrave had expected to deal with a long conversation before they got back into things, but instead, Raven wordlessly initiated the procedure once again. Argrave briefly contemplated if this was a plot to see him dead by consuming his soul, but reasoned that Raven could’ve done that long ago had he wanted to.

Once his soul was forced out of his body, he was expecting to endure a battle of terrifying ferocity. Instead, he saw the carcass of the Smiling Raven lying there, immobile, while Raven himself sat down on the edge of the boundary between their two souls. Argrave was hesitant to initiate battle, seeing him like that, and he was right to do so.

“Have a seat,” Raven called out.

Argrave couldn’t remember a single time where Raven had ever suggested such a formal thing. He stalked forth out of his fortified warzone cautiously, but did heed the man’s words, sitting down across from him. There was nothing in between them—just each other, face-to-face. The tension was palpable. Argrave kept Lorena’s knowledge close at hand, prepared to call upon it at a moment’s notice.

“I spoke to Hause,” Raven began, staring down at Argrave. “I spoke to all of them. My old… friends,” he said strangely, as if he didn’t think the word could come from his mouth. “Even Sonia.”

With much of the tension dissolved with that greeting, Argrave sat cross-legged and placed both of his hands on his knees. “I think… maybe… I shouldn’t have acted against your wishes like that,” he admitted, seeing some fault with his actions. “But I wanted to win. And I wanted to have Hause’s followers put pressure on her to use her ability again. I’m still not clear on what ‘unlocking potential’ truly entails, but if we make good use of it, it could make or break our coming victory. I hoped to force her followers to persuade her to change her mind.”

“I see the reasons. It was the pragmatic thing to do,” Raven pointed out. “An unrelated party with my utilitarian disposition would’ve suggested you to follow this course.”

Argrave relaxed his tense body fully. “So… what are we doing here, exactly?”

“We’re here because I suspect Lorena told you important information that may weaken me, and because I was being deliberately stubborn out of paranoia.” He looked back to the carcass of the Smiling Raven, still chained. “That beast yet has its uses. I cannot yet allow you to kill it.”

“Why not?” Argrave asked, somewhat passionately. He truly did have hope for Raven.

“Because I intend to follow your journey to the suns,” Raven said. “You will not see me, but I will intercept foes and ensure you are never overwhelmed. If you degrade that part of me, I weaken myself.” He shook his huge head. “I must admit that I have been overprotective. You will not be facing Gerechtigkeit—you will be facing his puppets alone. His power is such that they will very rapidly die from his mere presence, like flame chewing through dry grass. You saw that man’s head explode, if you’ll think back. If you faced his own soul, I would be justified in what I do… but you do not, and I am not.”

“So… this is over?” Argrave swallowed nervously. “No more fighting.”

“None from me. I believe you are more than ready to travel to the suns.”

“Just when I start to win, you decide to walk away, undefeated?” Argrave crossed his arms to express his disapproval, yet despite it all, felt some strong feeling of relief. 

“No one likes to lose.” Raven didn’t quite smile, but Argrave couldn’t shake the feeling there might be one hidden, somewhere—perhaps he’d grown a mouth on the back of his head to grin to his heart’s content. “Besides, there’s something else I’d like to speak to you about.”

“Go on.”

“Inevitably, you will come into contact with Gerechtigkeit,” Raven said. “You need to probe for information, and if possible, secure an agreement.”

“Secure an agreement?” Argrave repeated. “How would that be any different from what the He—" he trailed off as he came to a word that put everything into light. “Oh. I think I see.”

“Lorena’s disclosed that Gerechtigkeit partnered with the Heralds before.” Raven shook his head. “If that happens again, I get the impression that no defeat could be more certain. The benefit we have, however, is that Gerechtigkeit seems as much an enemy to them as they are to us.”

Argrave gave that a lot of consideration, and then gave a begrudging nod. “It’s worth a talk, at least. But how am I to trust anything that comes out of his mouth? He’s said himself that if I don’t employ every method at my disposal, he’ll kill us all.”

“He’s posturing. It’s part of the game.” Raven pointed. “The Heralds are the enemies of us all. He knows all that you know, and more than likely, he’s felt the sting of their betrayal before. Above all, I’m certain that he realizes they’re the cause of all his misfortune. They were directly responsible for his present miserable situation—his struggle against the millennia, of such a magnitude that only he’s aware of the extent of it.”

“I’ll try to cut them out,” Argrave continued, nodding as he spoke. “Make the key issue our self-determination. Insist that we should be the only ones deciding the fate of the world—us, who have to live in it, who have to suffer in it.”

“I see you’re already developing your strategy,” Raven said. “I’m sure it’ll be rather a interesting confrontation.”

Argrave scoffed. “Interesting. Right. That’s one way to put it. Though, I do wonder… what about Lorena?”

Raven’s face grew a little grimmer. “What about her?”

“Something tells me that she won’t be quick to give up the fight as I am,” Argrave insinuated. “She’s taken a bit of an interest in you.”

Raven lowered his head. “I had feared as much. I read her lips—some of the words she said. I didn’t get it all, but I saw enough. She knows me. We’ve met before, but I’m not sure when. Understandable—as a shapeshifter, she could’ve taken any form.”

Argrave’s eyes widened. “You can do that? More than that—you could see us?”

“Mm.” He nodded. “It’s my lab, my domain—I can see all that occurs within it when I exert the effort. It’s amusing how people think that sound is the one thing that determines who is privy to a conversation.”

“Maybe she wanted you to know,” Argrave suggested. “I could tell you what she said…”

“No, not now. That woman…” Raven hid a scowl with his hand. “Vexing. I’ll speak to her when I choose, if only to better figure out her intents. Is it true she…?”

“What?” Argrave raised a brow.

“Nothing. Return.” He waved his head. “Go. Get ready. Prepare yourself as I will.”

#####

“Anything to say before my big fight?” Argrave asked as he looked at Anneliese. “You’re my coach in the corner, at this moment. I’m about to go in for ten rounds.”

“I’m unsure.” Anneliese’s eyes grew distant as she thought. “I’ll be with you, in some way. Apparently, I’m part of your army. I suppose my only advice would be not to die.”

“Very consoling,” Argrave answered back.

“What more can I say that I haven’t already?” She shook her head as she stared down at him affectionately. “How many of the same conversation can we have before I learn to have faith in your ability? You’ve never failed when it mattered until now. Why should I be worried?”

Argrave blinked. “Now you’re making me worried.”

“Good.” She put her hand on his face. “You fight better when you’re scared.”

“She’s right,” added Raven as he looked down upon Argrave. “You fight against one who has fought against this entire world countless times. How could it ever be a difficult battle? I’m sure you’ll breeze by it all. Are you prepared?”

“Now you ask?” Argrave raised a brow.

“Now it’s serious.” Raven’s face was grave. “Take the lessons learned here. Apply them well.”

“Then, I’m ready,” he declared decisively, bracing himself. “To infinity, and—”

The soul-rending implement struck Argrave’s chest, and he felt a familiar whirl of disorientation as he was taken out of it. It felt like the very next moment that he blinked, the world had changed around him. Gravity took its hold on him as he began to fall, and he grasped out blindly at the first thing he saw.

Argrave, with the strongest grip he could muster, clung to a single root that swayed lightly in this windless space. With all his force of strength, he pulled himself up, grasping the root with his other arm. He pulled himself up until he could wrap his legs around it, then looked around. He clung to a misshapen golden tree that seemed to have been recently uprooted. It persisted amongst clouds, and far above, the two suns beamed down. Below, Argrave could see the ground. His own personal version of Blackgard persisted.

This scene was precisely as he had visualized. To reach the suns above, he’d used a mental image—that of Yggdrasil and the Tree of Being combined into one amalgamation to bridge their world with that of the stars above. To reach the two suns, he would need to climb to the top of the tree. It was suitably monumental, yet decidedly clear—in a word, precisely the sort of herculean mental task he would need to actually transfer his soul to the suns.

Argrave scrambled up the rope-like root, utterly alone besides the sound of the howling wind. Sometimes the roots came alive, seeking to dislodge and throw him off to the ground below. Argrave’s persistence was born of practiced effort, and he was able to slap away the grasping hands of shadow or burn away the dryads seeking to bite his fingers off.

When Argrave finally climbed up high enough, his feet found a place to rest—a place where he could stand without gripping the roots tightly. He took a moment to survey the area. As he did, he noticed a speck of flame burgeoning at one end of this vast tree. In the next moment, it became an all-consuming inferno, hungrily consuming the roots and the trunk of this mind-tree.

Argrave, presuming this was some machination of the world, calmly faced the threat and employed his considerable imagination. He burst away with wind magic, then conjured a hang-glider from thin air, soaring through the sky before he cut himself loose and grasped a safer section of the tree. He clung to a solid branch, watching as he realized the fire had stopped. It had stopped, strangely, in the perfect middle of the tree. Half of it had been consumed by fire, while half of it had been unaffected.

As Argrave watched this unusually rich and red fire, he spotted something directly across from him. On another branch, roughly level to where he clung, there was a figure persisting in the flame. At first glance, it looked quite like Good King Norman—tall, black of hair, red of eye. But closer scrutiny revealed subtle differences.

The man was leaner and taller than Norman. His black hair was neat, and cut short. There wasn’t an ounce of wildness to the way he carried himself. He had an elegant dark outfit on of a style that Argrave couldn’t place. Given all these details, it wasn’t difficult to recognize this man for who he was.

“Griffin,” Argrave called out.

Despite the flames, this place was eerily silent. His voice certainly reached the other party.

“You seek to stay the coming end,” Griffin called out. He raised his hand up, and Argrave tensed. “Good. The hour for turning back has passed us both. Now, we must prove ourselves worthy of what lies beyond the other’s corpse.”

Chapter 17

Argrave had long been imagining what might actually happen when he came to fight Gerechtigkeit. The last thing that he’d expected to be would be a simple man, dressed to impress. He did look very much like the family that he was a part of—he could see traces of both Sophia and Norman on his features. And staring upon him, Argrave could conjure no half-hearted echoes from his distant past. He was only Argrave, in this moment—an S-rank spellcaster, one who had consumed the Fruit of Being, and most importantly to him the other half of Anneliese.

Griffin’s eyes flashed gold, and a spectral Gilderwatcher bridged the air between them faster than Argrave could blink. It coiled around thought itself, paralyzing him. Griffin threw a spear of flame, then leapt after it. Moments before it reached, Argrave shattered the paralysis, swapping places with a blood echo above. The spear changed directions startlingly accurately, and Argrave conjured the black staff Artur had crafted to channel a blade of blood strong enough to bat it aside. A burst of flame blocked his vision, only for Griffin to erupt forth swinging a red sword.

Argrave barely received the blow, pushed back against the towering golden tree. He brought the back of the staff up, hoping to use the Resonant Pillar’s ability to counter to land a solid hit on Griffin. His foe appeared to try and block it with his sword, but moments before it hit, released the blade. All the force of the impact rebounded on the blade alone, and it shot off into the sky, piercing a cloud with such force a great hole opened in it. Griffin slammed his elbow into Argrave’s face, sending him tumbling down through countless golden branches in a shower of leaves.

“Have you come so far to be stricken dumb? Fight!” Griffin’s voice thundered. “Nothing remains for the one who does not give himself whole to this battle. Time itself flows with every blow we exchange. Have you come unprepared?”

Argrave caught a branch, looking up at Griffin above. They locked eyes again, and that spectral snake lunged out to stun him again. Argrave grabbed out with his hand, catching the snake. It bit at his face, hissing, but he pulled fiercely. Griffin was pulled by his eyes forward with it, and Argrave thrust forth his staff like a spear. Griffin seemed well-prepared to block, yet from behind, Argrave had a blood echo send out a lance of blood. The spell struck him in the back, unbalancing him, and Argrave impaled his foe. Argrave tossed the body aside as it faded, then began climbing furiously. His objective was the two blinding lights far above.

“Griffin!” Argrave called out, scrabbling up branches and teleporting with his echoes intermittently. “This fight, our struggle—we don’t need anyone else to interfere. If we’re ever to have an ending to this cycle, we have to agree to block out the Heralds. Refuse them, totally. No deals, no bargains.”

As Argrave grabbed a branch, he heard a whistle pass just by his ear before a knife pierced through his hand, impaling him to the tree. He grimaced, pulling the knife out in time to avoid four more. Griffin stood on the edge of a distant branch, far above, throwing knives with tremendous force.

“You bargain for me to accept death, willingly, should it come for me,” he said dismissively as his knives sought Argrave’s flesh one after another. He scrambled like a squirrel to avoid them. “Honor is not an anodyne for defeat—in fact, it makes the meal taste all the more bitter. None can find solace in honor as they choke on their blood and bile, knowing their dreams are to be killed and their efforts to be stolen. If you stare perdition in the eyes, and the Heralds offer you a trough of disgusting slop… you will eat, Argrave. Such is your nature as a child of the world.”

“And Sophia?” Argrave pressed, gaining confidence enough to catch a dagger in his hand as he hung from a branch. “Is she just caught in the middle?! Your sister, trapped in that prison with Good King Norman for all eternity. Is that your ‘perdition?’ I don’t intend on bestowing such a fate on Sophia. Because either of us—we can give her a way out, if we cooperate and shut out the Heralds.”

Griffin did pause his relentless assault, narrowing his eyes at Argrave. “We? If you move your limbs, Argrave, only one body responds. When you think, only one soul hears it. You are one body inhabiting one soul. Your world is filled with prevaricators and plunderers, and if the Heralds reach out to those dormant forces, they will break rank and break you. If you should jeopardize the cycle of judgment, the Heralds will ensure today’s allies will be tomorrow’s rapists. If neither of us take their deal, they will find another party. The Heralds will grant another the Elysium they offer you, and as payment, they will ask only that your wife, your sister, and all your friends meet gruesome ends.”

Argrave produced a [Bloodfeud Bow] and shot it at the base of the branch Griffin stood upon. It broke off from the tree, and as it fell, Argrave began to climb up again. “We’ve empowered good people,” he said, despite that much of him knew that Griffin had a point. “Anneliese, Law, Elenore—we’ve made sure that our people—”

“Your world is filled with scum, working together only because of common interests,” Griffin said with total conviction as the branch he stood upon plummeted downward. “If power rested in their hands, they would exercise it to your detriment. Your people remain cowed only because you are strong, and they are weak. Should the tables turn, you will find what your generosity produces in the recipient—envy, greed, and desire. The downtrodden you protect will rise up, tipping the whole world over to receive what the Heralds promise them. Oppression alone does not make one a good person. I stand as testament to that.”

Argrave could say nothing in response, yet he climbed upward with tremendous ferocity, seeking the two stars burning above. When he looked to his left, a great blaze of fire sought him out, roaring from Griffin’s hands. Though he might drop down, he did something unorthodox—he crossed to Griffin’s boundary, enduring its lesser flames to dodge the roaring inferno coming his way.

“At best, you will become as Lorena did; a slave tortured so harshly that she became a proponent of her own misery,” Griffin said as if it were pitiable. “At worst, those you love will be stolen from you, and you’ll be made to watch for all eternity as they suffer unimaginable hardship. The Heralds are cruel stewards. They already have Lorena as an example of their generosity. Of you, they would make an example of punishment.”

The great inferno roared past Argrave, and he sought refuge atop a large branch, clinging to the trunk of the tree. “You’re describing your life!” He shouted. “Sophia, trapped in Sandelabara—you’re already enduring that punishment. So why do you persist? Why can’t you accept your fate, and give your sister freedom, give us freedom? Is it so terrible to give your sister happiness without you?”

“Because just as it is for you, so is it for me,” Griffin continued. “The Heralds will allow neither of us true freedom. Our stewards envision countless ways to keep us spinning. Your world is endlessly complex, with constituents uncountable to call upon and mastermind. They stab our frailties with heartless calculation. If we empty ourself of weakness, we empty ourself of strength. My sister is my weakness, and my strength. You possess many such endowments, too. Anneliese, Elenore, Galamon, Durran… many more, and even Sophia, to my wonderment. They are the frail fuel for your geyser of ambition.”

Argrave stood amidst fire, looking around for Griffin briefly before resuming the climb. “You’ve been fighting the Heralds far longer than I have,” he said. “You have to know some way to cut them out. There’s got to be a way to stop them from interfering. And if there isn’t… damn it, let’s come up with it together! Remove them, excise them, expunge them! You versus me—that’s all this need be!”

Griffin stood crouched on a higher branch, and Argrave flinched away, expecting an attack. He merely crouched there, however, and spoke quietly. “There is a way.”

“What?” Argrave looked at him, questioning if he should even be conversing so much with this man. Perhaps all of this was a trick. “What’s the way?”

“Employ the groundwork I have laid. Make yourself the whole,” Griffin said stoically. “Move to the suns, carrying Lorena’s work on your back. Use the body of the silver knight to do more than free mortals from my influence—use it to exert your own will upon them. Eliminate the possibility of all interference, of all meddling, from forces beyond our ken. Kill the malignant cancers of lust, greed, and envy in men’s heart, unifying them toward the fight against Gerechtigkeit. Me.”

Even in this soulscape, Argrave felt his breath catch in his throat. Griffin suggested not merely protecting mortality… but controlling it.

“Take for yourself the power of your world,” Griffin continued with thunderous enthusiasm. “Claim what you have so vigorously struggled to earn. Muster the resolve I said you must possess, and steal the souls of mortalkind for yourself. When your world stands fully united in opposition to me, we can be both rid of the tumors plaguing our bodies. We can both labor for true freedom.”

Argrave’s heart beat wildly at what he suggested. He and all of his companions had struggled desperately toward such unity, and now, his sworn enemy suggested that he need but reach out and take it.

Griffin rose to his feet on the branch he stood atop. “Should you choose to personally conduct all life yourself, I vow to you I shall fight with my power alone. I shall muster my core, my very being, in staunch opposition to you. I will struggle even unto my death throes to end your world and reclaim my sister. I did not suffer so long to meekly surrender and perish at the final hour—my greed mirrors yours. But should you dominate the souls of mortalkind, I vow the Heralds will never again have a say in the fate of the world. Can I expect the same from you?”

“Why should I trust you? Why should you trust me?” Argrave asked, shaken.

“Let the scars of millennia past prove the conviction of our vows,” Griffin suggested. “And let the love in our hearts seal the pact. I swear on my sister, the Heralds will rule us no more. Can I expect the same from you? Do you swear on your daughter?”

Argrave stared into those red eyes a long, long time, enduring the pain licking from the flames all around them. Finally, he nodded. “I swear. Fuck the Heralds.”

“Then climb, Argrave of Vasquer, Vincenzo Giordano.” Griffin pointed skywards. “Take back what should belong to no other: our fate itself. Rip destiny from the jaws of the presiding swine. You have won that right with might and main. Claim your prize. And when next we meet, we shall fight for true.”

Argrave looked up, toward the suns, then back at Griffin’s solemn face. Then, without further words, he climbed towards the suns, unabated.

He’d said only what he needed to. Lying to a mass-murderer came easy. But at the end of the day… his words had made him think.

Chapter 18

Argrave arrived at the top of the tree. He had been expecting some sort of vast field of golden leaves at the top, but instead, he found himself crawling through an open manhole. He rose up out of the sewer, looking around at the room he found himself in. In a few moments, he realized it was something like a museum. There were exhibits all around, many of which were directly related to his time here on Berendar and the world beyond it.

Argrave climbed up, coming to stand as he looked around further. There were antiquities from the Burnt Desert—miniature replicas of the metallic towers at Sethia and a recreation of the heart that had been created to replace his own. There was the Plague Jester’s scepter, and a small ring that Argrave knew once belonged to Induen. There was a scale from Vasquer’s body, a feathered hat from Relize, and a set of eyes clenched by a taxidermized bat.

The exhibits carried on, each of them highlighting some various aspect of his journey. He followed them down chronologically, paying attention as they became more and more recent. Finally, at the end, there was the final exhibit—it seemed to be the centerpiece, yet it was blocked away with yellow tape that read, ‘construction in progress’ in bold and bright letters. Beyond the yellow tape, there was a navy-blue curtain. From beneath the curtain, a gleaming golden light peeked out, dancing at the edge of the floor. He could see two orbs, each projecting a light that barely indicated their presence. Just beyond would be the suns, he was certain. He wasn’t clear on what to expect.

Argrave walked up to the unfinished exhibit, looking around. A door opened to his right, and from it came a cloud of smoke. Argrave braced, prepared to fight anything that might come. Moments after, Jaray walked out, shadowed by someone unrecognizable. Argrave narrowed his eyes as he looked at them, not entirely relaxing.

“What is this?” Argrave expressed his disdain openly.

“Congratulations on getting past the souls Gerechtigkeit sent after you,” Jaray commended. “I said that I’d be busy arranging a meeting with the Heralds. Well… I knew that you’d be coming here, given what you and Lorena intended. So, we came here in advance and waited. This is a fitting venue for conversation, I think,” he said, looking around at the place before his eyes narrowed at the ‘no smoking’ sign plastered on the wall. “Mostly.”

Argrave looked at the second figure warily, finally grasping things. “You’re a Herald?” He questioned. “How did you come here?”

“Piggybacking on a mortal soul, of course,” Jaray answered.

The man looked at Jaray, then at Argrave. “There is never a shortage of people willing and able to help us when we need it. Even those with undying souls.”

Hearing that the Heralds had already found a patsy to confront him with—and one so rare as to possess an undying soul—Griffin’s conversation echoed fiercely in Argrave’s head. His claims that the Heralds would do anything gained more and more credence. Argrave had largely said what he needed to pass the calamity by, but his foe’s words had rattled his cage and disturbed his mind.

There was no denying that Griffin had gotten into his head—at that, at least, he’d won. The man spoke well, spoke passionately, and treated Argrave with an amount of respect that was almost something to return… but that was provided he hadn’t killed Vasquer and billions of others over the years. As Griffin said, he may have been oppressed by the Heralds, but that still didn’t make him a good person.

“So, what is this?” Argrave looked between them, shaking his thoughts away. “Are you going to try and stop me?”

“Stop you?” The Herald raised a brow. “We’re only trying to make things even again. Balance the scale, so to speak. If you’re willing to be reasonable, we can offer you unreasonable things.”

Jaray pointed his pipe at Argrave. “It was very difficult to get them to agree to come to the bargaining table. You’ve cost the Heralds a lot, and you’ve proven to be someone that’s rather uncompromising in what you believe in. Still, despite all that, this man has agreed to hear you out.”

Argrave exhaled from his nose, looking back at the unfinished exhibit wordlessly.

“Tell us what you want, Argrave.” The Herald walked up beside the exhibit, into his field of view. “Tell us what you actually want to protect by doing all of this.”

“I want the cycle of judgment to end.” Argrave looked at him with contempt. “I want your exploitation of all these people to end.”

“You’ll have learned by now that can’t happen,” the Herald responded without missing a beat. “What you’re asking… you’re decently-educated in the world you come from, correct? It would be akin to destroying the tectonic plates to stop earthquakes, or eliminating everything that created wind to stop cyclones and hurricanes. The cycle of judgment is but another natural disaster, just as an earthquake.” He gestured. “Come now—be mature. Surely you can understand how futile it’d be to try and fight to end earthquakes?”

As the Herald chuckled at the notion, Argrave responded, “Earthquakes aren’t engineered by an outside force. Your people, whoever they are, established this cycle of judgment. Your people came to this world, did something in Sandelabara, and turned things to what they are. That’s nothing like an earthquake.”

The Herald shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me,” Argrave suggested. “Explain to me why this is necessary. Explain to me why I shouldn’t revolt. Explain to me who you are, and why you’re here.”

The Herald threw up his hands. “I don’t have the time, nor the clearance, to explain it to you.”

“Then make time, and get clearance,” Argrave continued.

“Would that I could…” the Herald laughed like it was a joke as he looked back to Jaray. “I came to have this conversation because he assured me you’d be open to discussing an alternate path. Were you wrong, Jaray, like I said would be the case?”

Jaray was spurred to action by the glance, stepping forward. “Argrave, you’ve seen what Lorena’s become. Despite everything, she lives a good life. A fulfilling life. You could have all of that—all of that, and far more. You just have to accept the situation for what it is. Heed the examples of the past to avoid repeating their mistakes.”

“Their mistakes?” Argrave repeated, smiling. “Can I take that to be a threat?”

Jaray shook his head. “No, I—”

“You can,” interrupted the Herald. “You have been obstinate and belligerent while not possessing half the talent of those before you who’ve come just as far. You’re interfering with the business of very important people—and I number among them. Just because your soul was ferried in from somewhere else doesn’t mean you have the right to solve whatever you perceive as a problem.”

“Very diplomatic,” Argrave noted, wondering what he meant by ‘ferried in.’ “Very persuasive, denigrating all I’ve done.”

“I’m offering to build you a paradise. You can live with your happy family—your entire kingdom, totally separate from all the miseries of this world. The troubles you fight against now would be out of sight, out of mind. This planet could become nothing more than a distant star as you live in peace, building the society of your dreams alongside those you love.” The Herald shook his head. “And yet you condescend, judge, complain, and bitch, bitch, bitch. Do you think I want to be here?” The Herald sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’re pulling me away from other obligations—actually important matters. You’re fighting me as I try to make you happy. Can your tiny brain understand why I might be a mite annoyed?”

Argrave could only blink in stunned surprise at the tirade. This Herald came here, acting as though everything that Argrave mentioned was just… an annoyance. Like it was dirt on his shoe, or a mustard stain on his shirt. Like there were thousands of other more important matters on his plate. He sounded like an overworked, arrogant businessman more than some arbiter of life-and-death. That made it all the more terrifying, in his eyes.

“Argrave…” Jaray began, emptying his pipe. “He’s not joking around with this. I don’t know much. But I know from past experience that they’ve been moving, frantically, to prepare for a more… final solution… to your Blackgard Union. They’re operating under the assumption that you’re unwilling to cooperate, driven by ideals before pragmatism. I’m hoping that they’re wrong.”

Argrave studied him. “And your part in this?”

Jaray looked at Argrave squarely. “They’ve had me speaking to gods. Setting the groundwork for…” he trailed off, saying nothing. “Once the White Planes break, it’s open season for all deities. And… well.”

“You’re saying a bunch of gods are already prepared to betray us, when the time comes.” Argrave smiled grimly.

“I can’t speak for what the Heralds have been doing, but… yeah.” He shook his head. “To end the cycle of judgment would be to end divinity. You concealed that fact, but I revealed it. Knowing that, it didn’t take much to convince most. Small promises, and continued survival. Both were enough to shatter most of what you’ve built.”

Argrave did wonder how much of that was a bluff. Elenore had been very choosy about which gods she’d allowed to occupy Berendar and the Great Chu. Those that she allowed would assuredly keep their word, even at the cost of their own lives. Yet… Jaray had been able to force Law’s hand, even. Perhaps Argrave truly did have no chance.

“It would be cheapest for both of us to settle this here and now,” the Herald continued. “Ideals are costly. Your world has been lucrative for both parties. I don’t want that to change, and it doesn’t have to… provided that you act intelligently.”

“How can I trust you?” Argrave looked between them. “You betrayed Gerechtigkeit, didn’t you? How can I know we don’t have the same fate in store?”

“He spoke to you, did he?” The Herald shook his head. “Tried to poison you against us? You’re genuinely swayed by the words of someone whose very reason for being is to destroy?”

“I’m just concerned about getting taken advantage of,” Argrave continued, choosing not to mention the enraging fact that they had created this destructive being. It did confirm one thing—the Heralds had not been listening to the conversation he’d just had.

“We do have our reputation to maintain,” the Herald said. “You may be unaware, but a lot of very important eyes are on this incident. The one you know as Gerechtigkeit was never betrayed—he’s an asset prized for his indefatigability, and little else. We have an agreement in place which forbids me from saying more.”

Argrave glanced between Jaray and the Herald, saying nothing even as his mind whirled. He pointed at the curtain. “Do you have issue with me carrying out what Lorena and I have drafted?”

“Not particularly,” the Herald said. “Why?”

“I’m going to finish this job,” Argrave said. “And then you’ll have my answer.”

“Fair enough,” the Herald said with a heavy sigh.

Argrave stepped forward, grabbing the navy-blue curtain. Beyond it, he could see the suns, as clear as day. He began to pull, wondering what might lie beyond.

Chapter 19

After the conversation with Griffin, which had given him so much to think about it felt as though his mind might never rest again, the pointless words exchanged with the Herald had brought him back down to the ground. He hypothesized they had deliberately sent someone who made no attempts to hide his disdain. They weren’t fools—they had seen Argrave’s behavior, seen what decisions he’d made, and come to the conclusion that he couldn’t be bargained with. By sending some undiplomatic, arrogant pencil-pusher with no real authority, they had called out his attempt to deceive them. To what end, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Only, Argrave was almost certain they had no idea their ‘valuable asset,’ Gerechtigkeit, had talked to Argrave about a way to circumvent their ability to find the weaknesses in mortalkind. The primary catalyst to the cycle of judgment was promising not to accept the help of the Heralds, provided Argrave in turn took direct control of the human race. Argrave wasn’t Anneliese, but he thought Griffin had seemed earnest in swearing to a fair battle if he did so.

The question that Argrave had to ask himself was if he should follow through with what he’d swore to. Words exchanged with mass murderers meant very little to him. He believed in honor only among honorable people—and someone who’d killed Vasquer and enslaved the Gilderwatchers wasn’t honorable. Argrave had said what he felt he needed to, in that moment. Perhaps Griffin had been doing the same.

Generally speaking, it was a bad idea to follow the advice of someone trying to kill everything alive.

On the other hand, there were several clever adages about how those sharing enemies made excellent friends. Argrave could find no logical holes in the plan Griffin had suggested. The Heralds exploited envy and greed to find those willing to betray and undermine any resistance against them. They lent power comparable to that of a god. Argrave wasn’t sure that blocking mental interference alone could keep the Heralds from turning his people against him—they seemed beyond the powers of the world, somehow. Only by exerting his own will to control the wills of others could he be certain that he would suffer no betrayal.

Lorena had changed the body of the silver knight into an anchor that either of the suns’ power could latch on to. Whatever deal, if any, Argrave struck with them would be enacted, using the inert power within the corpse as one of two focal points—himself being the other point. Whether that was having the suns protect all souls from outside interference, or influencing them toward his viewpoint… the deal he struck would be carried out.

Argrave found it rather frightening how tempting it was to exert his will upon everyone.

So much of his time in Berendar had been spent fighting against things like ambition and greed. They’d fought tooth and nail to bring peace to Vasquer, and long after to defang the nobles who wanted to keep an iron grip on the people they deemed peasants. They’d fought the Ebon Cult, whose Castellan sought to usurp Gerechtigkeit in some fashion. They’d fought Emperor Ji Meng, who’d come seeking to plunder and conquer Berendar—and that had come with its own assortment of local interests, like Governor Zen. All mortal opponents, and all driven by selfishness.

Life would be so much easier if everyone simply obeyed.

It was easy to say that when Argrave would be the one receiving their obedience. If the foot were on his neck, rather than the other way around… he’d hate it. At the same time, he absolutely didn’t trust people not to listen to the words of the Heralds. Some bastard, given the opportunity, definitely would eke out their own little paradise at his expense. Without enslaving everyone, there would never be an end to immorality—yet enslaving everyone might be the largest act of moral turpitude to ever occur.

Argrave certainly had no intent to abuse people. Did that alone make it right? There was the corny saying that absolute power corrupts absolutely. He’d always thought it to be a vast oversimplification, but perhaps there was some truth to it. Could he honestly say that he wouldn’t impose his own subjective morality onto the majority? The world would be a peaceful place, true… but it would be a planet of mirrors, all looking to each other to receive the same opinion repeated indefinitely.

Griffin had said it clearly—he’d earned this right with might and main. Argrave didn’t think that alone was sufficient. Anneliese, Elenore, Orion, Galamon, Durran, Melanie, Raven, Nikoletta, Elias, Mina, and the countless others he’d met on his journey that he’d come to call friend… to do this would be to erase them. Even if the people that’d been given the ring crafted by Artur were exempt from his control, the whole rest of the world would be twisted into some grotesque perversion of a perfect society.

That world would deserve to be destroyed by Gerechtigkeit, wiped away into nothing.

The moment that Argrave accepted that this was something he couldn’t do, he felt a profound sense of loss—that mortal instinct to own, to control, to possess, to deprive another of something to enjoy alone. It was that very sensation that reminded him of precisely what the Heralds would exploit in his brothers and sisters.

Both options were insufficient, flawed. Protecting people did not protect them from themselves, and protecting them from everything did not protect them from Argrave himself, a flawed child of the world.

But this isn’t a multiple-choice test, Argrave chided himself. There’s always another way.

Argrave opened his eyes, only to feel the need to shield them again when blinding light pierced them like needles. He stood suspended in between two masses of fire. It took him no time at all to realize what he had been caught between: the two suns, the stars around which their planet rotated. One star was orange—bright and all-consuming. The other was white, and smaller.

And just as he saw them, he began to tremble as he realized they were watching him, too. He couldn’t feel any heat radiating out from them, but he did feel probing tendrils of what constituted their souls reaching out and probing at his being. Their consciousness was like nothing that he’d ever imagined. It lacked thought, lacked emotions, yet despite these facts it was undeniably alive.

Argrave reached out in this soulscape, his arms grasping at the tendrils of being the stars sent forth. When, finally, the two forces met… he was drawn away to converse with the stars themselves. 

#####

Back on the surface, the vast majority of the powerful people in Argrave’s service stared up at the suns, looking like dopes waiting for an eclipse as they shielded their eyes. They all stood around two altars. One of them held Argrave, his chest rising and falling steadily as he breathed in what appeared to be nothing more than sleep. The other held the silver knight that Orion had slain, its severed head haphazardly reattached and its sword and shield laid across its torso as though it was being buried in honor.

Elenore looked back, fidgeting. “Raven, is he—”

“How many times need I confirm I still feel his presence?” Raven interrupted her. “I saw him ascend to the suns. I saw him break free of Gerechtigkeit’s attempts to fight him. The moment he is done, he will return.”

Everyone else went silent, casting glances at the suns above. Anneliese clenched Argrave’s hand tightly as he rested, though she seemed markedly less concerned than everyone else.

With a tremendously fearful gasp, Argrave jolted up, sucking in air. He’d done so loud enough that many near him jumped, and in the moments that followed, he fell off the altar, inhaling like he was dying. Many shouted his name in unison, crowding around him. After a time, his breathing steadied, and people quieted to hear what he might say.

“Has it happened yet?” Argrave looked up at the suns, flinching at the light. “No. No, that’s alright. Light takes some time to travel from there to here. In a few minutes, you’ll all see.” He rested his head against the altar he’d been laid across, exhaling and inhaling rapidly. “Good lord. I’m such a good person. I’m such a good person. It’s not even funny how saintly I am. Jesus Christ is a cheap knock-off compared to me. No one will ever be as moral and righteous as I was moments ago. I don’t know how I did it. How the hell am I so kind, so benevolent, so magnanimous, so humble?” He rose to his feet, brushing off all the people imminently concerned with his well-being as he began to jump around, shaking his body as if to dispel a plague of bugs crawling all over him.

“What did you do?” Raven insisted, taking hold of Argrave. “What… what’s changed about you?” He asked, studying him intently. “I can see something, and yet…”

“Hoo…” Argrave exhaled again, trying to come to a standstill. “I had a rather difficult conundrum on my hands. You guys weren’t here, so I consulted the two people that were. As it turns out, our suns had quite a bit to say. They gave me some very good advice, and then asked me to solve a problem they were having. I helped them out, gave a prudent suggestion, and… well, suffice to say, I’m the single best human being, morally, you will ever lay eyes upon. I will never let any of you forget how amazing I am.”

Lorena, who was the only person still staring at the suns, widened her eyes in total surprise. Her head involuntarily shifted toward her draconic nature for a moment, then muttered what must’ve been a dragon’s curse of some kind. Her whole body began to shift, and then she darted up in the sky to disappear, leaving only a comet trail behind. Everyone else turned to look and see what had frightened her so.

Up above… the two suns had begun to collide into each other.

“Let’s enjoy the show,” Argrave held his arms up in a Y.

Chapter 20

Argrave expected much of the meeting with the suns. Would they be fiery twins, perhaps? Would they be warm, life-giving, generous? In the end, all of these assumptions were based on the idea that they were anything like a human being. That had been an entirely incorrect conclusion, to put it mildly.

Argrave had sought Lorena for some advice, seeing as she had conversed with the moon. She had claimed rather bizarrely that it was like swimming for the first time. That sensation of being stripped away from air and submerged into water challenged a lot of her preconceptions about the world. Argrave certainly didn’t recall receiving such a lasting impression from swimming, himself. This, however…

Upon connecting with the suns, Argrave quite literally exploded into light.

Argrave—rather painlessly, fortunately—was atomized, and exploded out into the entire universe as rays of solar energy. He could tangibly feel everything that he fell upon, and with the aid of the ‘cognizance’ of the suns, could also piece together what it was he was feeling well enough to construct a mental image. Their light, in one way or another, made it to everything. It saw all, even the unseen. It was probably the single most unsettling thing that Argrave had ever experienced, and considering his history that was saying a great deal.

It took him a very long while to be able to notice the presence of the suns all around him. Their existence was a vast network with a central nexus—that nexus being the giant balls of plasma they all saw in the sky from the planet. The existence of the suns wasn’t something that could be constrained with definitions such as thought or physical being. They hadn’t transcended life and death. Rather, it was as though they were a third category, a third state of being, removed from it all. When Argrave pried at it, seeking truth, he realized that to understand fully what they were would be to become it. He rather liked his present form too much to toss it away to be among the stars. Perhaps later.

The stars didn’t have desires, per se, but they did have functions, purposes. In a sense, it was a manifestation of what they were. They came into being like all life—not knowing how or why. But unlike living things, they knew their purpose and carried it out immediately. Their purpose was their life cycle itself; to come into being, to undergo countless reactions dictated by nature, and eventually reach the point where they ceased to be any longer.

Argrave could tell that, behind that seemingly meaningless existence, was something much larger. It was like being able to see only one thread of a grand tapestry. Argrave might be able to take a step back and view the grand weave of all existence, but in so doing he would lose what gave him that desire to learn of it. He would become like the stars—omnipresent, omniscient, yet simultaneously devoid of so much as to be essentially nonexistent.

Argrave did not embrace their way of being. In so doing, he retained the concepts that allowed to declare himself ‘alive.’ And by retaining these concepts, he was able to bring it forth before these two stars. They were unable to differentiate between rocks and people or animals and water. He showed them the difference, using his own soul as the bridge. More accurately, the corpse of the silver knight created of Lindon’s psyche was the bridge. Without it, this would never have worked.

Teaching the suns how to think was a very dangerous game, certainly, but fortunately they couldn’t do it without the presence of a third party that could. The silver knight acted as a medium of sorts for the both of them down below. The moment that he’d introduced the concept, like children, the suns tried to imitate it. The brainless beings couldn’t think—they could only carry out thermonuclear reactions inside their bodies like the big lovable idiots they were. They kept on trying to think without success, because they couldn’t learn that it wasn’t working. Again, he thought on their behalf, teaching them that they needed his soul to be able to think.

The moment they learned Argrave was necessary, it was like two great giants began to grasp at him. Their souls grabbed him, tried to squeeze the thought out of him like he was just a fruit with precious juice instead of a living thing. His undying soul made their efforts fruitless—as infant thinkers, their grip was about as strong as cotton candy.

Argrave crafted deliberate pathways of thought that he allowed the two stars to travel down. He hoped to extract information out of these all-seeing existences, to ask them questions, and to receive a satisfactory alternative to the proposal that Griffin had made to him. He knew there’d be an alternative path—he just needed light sufficient to see it, hidden away in the dark as it was.

In response… Argrave received elaborate reconstructions of paths their sunlight had travelled. They showed him truths that he’d never thought he’d have access to. It was a silent movie, and so difficult to understand as to be incomprehensible… but through them, he did eventually confirm something for himself.

The Heralds needed a soul to anchor to.

At first, it was only further confirmation that Griffin might’ve been right in what he suggested. Souls were what kept someone alive, kept someone able to think. Without them, they’d be as Argrave was—detached. And without his undying soul, he’d perish in moments, fading away into nothingness beneath the weight of the world. The only beings exempt from that were gods. They lacked souls entirely—their body was its own existence unto itself. That was why, when injured, their flesh turned into spirits.

Eventually, though, Argrave came up with a rather unorthodox answer too all of this. With some finessing, some finagling, some selective application of thought, he decided to help the suns along on their pathway of change. These stars wanted to—or at least, their purpose was to—go through their lifecycle, right?

Well… perhaps it was time to accelerate that, no matter how many laws of nature that they needed to break. He’d gained access to a grand network that spanned the entire world—and it would be a shame not to take advantage of that.

#####

Anneliese watched the two suns, ever a constant in her life, violently collide. The event was of such a scale that she did wonder if Argrave had lost his mind up there, and decided to destroy it all to beat Gerechtigkeit to the punch. The flares of bright light had come first, and after them, sound and shaking.

Intense heat ravaged the world. It felt like an oven, and it smelled like the atmosphere was burning. The only thing keeping her from doing something in desperate fear was Argrave standing there, smiling brightly, as if the light didn’t burn his eyes and the tremorous heat didn’t bother him.

Eventually… it did subside. The only thing she could hear was a constant ringing in her ears, and her eyes danced with dappled grays and whites as they were finally spared the intensity of the light. Her vision was the first thing to return, and when it did… it felt as though everything had grown dimmer, darker. The sky began to change, as if in a sunset. The suns remained just above, in the position of midday. She dared to look at them again, only to realize that they were no longer ‘them.’ Rather, a single, solitary sun stood high in the sky.

And it was fading quite quickly, leaving only empty sky behind.

“In the business, they call that a ‘merger of equals,’” Argrave said in joking explanation, his voice barely piercing the ringing in her ears.

When she looked around, Anneliese realized that she was among the small few still standing on their feet. Raven, too, watched the sun above. Beyond that, everyone had sought cover.

“What did you do?” Anneliese asked, her voice trembling.

“Made physicists everywhere turn in their grave, mumbling curses about the formulas they need to rewrite,” Argrave said. “I just gave the suns some commands, that’s all. You can do a lot with thinking stars. A little direction, that’s all. But the best is yet to come.”

“It’s fading,” Raven said neutrally. “Why is that?”

“It doesn’t generate light anymore,” Argrave said. “Rather, it takes. And I’m not talking about light.”

Right before Anneliese’s eyes, she saw Argrave’s soul leave his body. Her eyes widened in alarm, but he didn’t collapse—rather, he stayed as he was, sitting down, staring above with wonderment. She followed his soul with her eyes, before she saw her own dart out of her body. Instinctively, she grasped at it… yet her hands met nothing. She felt deprived of nothing, despite the evidence before her eyes.

“What is this?!” Raven shouted.

“Relax,” Argrave calmed casually. “You’re fine, aren’t you?”

As Anneliese watched, millions, billions, trillions of souls started to flow up into the air as brilliant tendrils of gold. In time, as the others gathered their wits and looked up to the sky, she realized she wasn’t alone in seeing this. Everywhere, all around the world, souls rose up into the heavens. They replaced the fading light, casting a brilliant golden hue upon the darkening skies. Streaks of gold filled a dark sky, giving light where there once was darkness.

It was one of the most beautiful things she’d seen.

In time, Anneliese saw these wispy tendrils of gold converge where the suns had been. A brilliant golden disc began to take shape in the sky, gleaming faintly. It gained light second by second as more souls rose up to join it. Eventually, only wayward dots of gold joined it… and the new sun became just as bright as both had once been.

“The Heralds, Gerechtigkeit…” Argrave said, standing over the silver knight. “They need a soul to interface with. Now, the only path to do so lies through me. The suns—or whatever they’ve become—capture the souls of every living thing that is and will be. They take them away, keeping them safe, and allow people to access them through the network of light. So long as the energy that was inside those two suns lasts, nothing will ever again have the option to interfere with the lives of living beings. From the smallest cat, to the tallest man… the only way to speak to them is to speak to me. As for myself, well… let’s say I took some direction from you, Raven.”

Argrave touched the silver knight’s body, and it crumbled to ash. Anneliese could see no more power remaining within it. Rather, it had all migrated to Argrave. Where his brilliant soul had once been was a gateway to something unimaginable.

“What does that mean?” Raven questioned.

“Anything that even tries to touch my soul will be met with the might of every living soul, all at once.” Argrave smiled. “A deluge of mental energy enough to wipe away anyone.”

“You took the souls of every living being?” Elenore asked quietly, still somewhat in shock.

“I… nationalized them, let’s say. Every living being can access them through the energy of the new sun above. But they’ll never again be accessed by something else.” Argrave looked around until he saw Orion, then helped the man rise to his feet. “It’s not without flaws. Druidic magic, soul magic—it no longer exists. But it also means that the Gilderwatchers are free. It means the Heralds can’t ever again make their voice heard, to anyone.” Argrave exhaled, like a great weight had been lifted off him. She could tell from his expression he meant to shoulder another burden. “And lastly… it means we’ve got a hell of a lot to do.”

Chapter 21

Argrave saw Lorena’s return long in advance. She had fled—perhaps prudently—because of what the suns had been doing. She returned as she’d left, like a comet soaring through the sky. Argrave flinched as she appeared in a burst of speed and light, again bearing witness to her draconic form moments before she seamlessly transformed back into something more human.

“What did you do?” she asked him. Her voice wasn’t angry, but it was certainly stiff.

Argrave took a moment to compose himself, casting a glance at Anneliese to gauge from her expression if he needed to fear this ancient dragon might try something. Anneliese didn’t seem to be particularly wary, so he faced Lorena with calm.

“You told me that you’re like Raven. That you’ve a certain mastery of the body,” he began. “That means you probably have Truesight of some kind—and that means you know what happened.”

“It was rather far from what we’d discussed,” she said, her voice drawn tight.

“Not really. I vowed to block people from Gerechtigkeit’s influence—I’ve done that. Nothing alive will ever again be subject to influence outside the confines of their own mind.” He could help but smile as he continued, “…and if that includes the Heralds, so be it. Their input isn’t especially valued.”

Lorena stared him eye-to-eye, not even blinking. “You’re quite the dandy bastard.” She poked his chest with her sharp nail—it was almost a claw, really. “This is going to be bloody. Very bloody. You talked to Jaray, I assume?”

Argrave blinked—he couldn’t of yet tell her disposition toward this change. “I did. And the ones that hold his leash. Fortunately for us, we’ll never hear from them again.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Lorena said without committing.

Argrave tried not to reveal anything, but eventually felt a surge of annoyance that compelled him to say, “I don’t have to dance around the issue anymore. Even if they can hear us, they can’t do anything. The Heralds are responsible for every bit of misery that Gerechtigkeit has ever caused. They’re responsible for all but culling your species. Will you take up the fight again?”

“There it is. The blunt truth. I was wondering how long it would take.” She stepped away and looked up to the sky. “Your idea was really one of the most outlandish things I’ve ever seen. And it does disquiet me that you’re the point of failure. You already had quite the large target on your back, but now?” She shook her head in disbelief. “If you die, what happens?”

Orion stepped between them. “Try it, and I’ll—”

“Lorena’s just curious, Orion. Right?” Argrave interrupted his brother, and Lorena nodded. “If I died, all souls would become an isolated island. I just gave myself a little advantage, nothing more. A little service fee for removing a vulnerability on all our operating systems. Now…” He walked closer to her. “I didn’t catch the answer to my question.”

“Your question’s predicated on something untrue,” Lorena said, raising one finger up. “I can’t take up the fight again.”

“You’re here, now,” Raven pointed out to her. “You seem to be limited in no capacity.”

“Come on.” She looked at him. “He took your soul, not your brain. I can’t take up a fight I never put down.” She turned her head back to Argrave with a broad smile. “The dragons up there aren’t the ones that fought against Gerechtigkeit all those millennia ago. My old allies have all died, naturally or otherwise. Those I’d call kin alive today won’t be of any help to you—they’re soft, living their lives of quietude with peaceful spectacle. But me?” Her nostrils flared, quite literally at that. “Nothing would please me more than putting an end to all of this. I haven’t forgotten a thing, whether it’s what the Heralds did to us, or how to fight. And we’re to be very busy.”

#####

The majority of the world was in turmoil after the reformation of the two suns into one. There were a few notable exceptions like the dwarves, who just saw strange sparkling gold balls fly out of their chest at a random time. Their diplomats asked Vasquer what had happened, and he told them the truth—nothing worth concern.

Not everyone saw it that way. Those on the surface sought answers about this solar phenomenon. Those educated about the soul were in much higher supply after Llewellen and his team had pioneered soul magic, and they were able to provide the answers to the questioning masses. It was precisely for this reason that so many were terrified, yet the fact nothing had seemed to change did quiet their fright. They’d lost something they were barely aware of, and nothing changed… ignoring the solitary golden disc in the sky, that was. But though nothing had changed for the average person, a great many things had changed for others.

The change most urgently deserving attention was the sudden freedom of the Gilderwatchers.

Argrave had spared them a fate of servitude to Gerechtigkeit, but in doing so he’d also stripped away their primary way to communicate with one another. They were gathered together deep beneath the earth, likely in a panic. Argrave gave Orion full authority to organize an expedition constituted of whatever members were willing to join him, and move out to retrieve them. His brother, of everyone, was most qualified for that role. He verified their safety, explained the situation, and then gave them the freedom of choice. They couldn’t give their answer in words, but Orion conveyed with considerably certainty they chose to remain underground until the time for battle came, whereupon they’d employ whatever might they could in defense of the world.

The change most severely felt was the sudden disappearance of druidic magic.

In Vasquer, Elenore had implemented druidic magic into her communication networks. Its sudden absence proved to be a tremendous point of failure, further exacerbated by the chaos caused after the solar event. It took her a long while to set up a ramshackle form of communication, during which she was cursing Argrave the whole time.

Argrave and Anneliese also felt the loss. His little foxes, the Brumesingers, had largely been kept out of the way after they had done their tremendous feat of crippling the Great Chu flagship. When Argrave came to them, though their lingering affection remained, they had become about as controllable as any other pet: namely, not very. Their mists, having been given some of the power of the dryads, were incredibly hazardous, so Argrave ended up quarantining them in the mountains of Blackgard. Some people who’d been immunized by the dryads themselves were assigned as caretakers. As for Anneliese and her Starsparrow… the creature had become reliant on her for food, but it now left her side frequently, returning only when it needed to eat. She refused to cage it, letting nature take its course.

It also turned into a very large issue for their diplomatic partners. Veiden lost what was essentially a part of its cultural heritage in moments. Countless druids found themselves reduced to mere spellcasters overnight. Their governance, which had shifted focus to the Great Chu, was as severely impacted as Elenore’s communication lines. The only one spared of this was Rowe—his dragon had been by his side for well over two hundred years, and he often didn’t even need to use druidic magic to express his intent. Argrave was told that it was as though nothing changed for them.

Not all changes were negative. It was also a resounding victory on another front: necromancy.

Argrave had been hoping that it would kill every necromantic creation in existence in one fell swoop. He wasn’t quite so fortunate, yet he’d still left an indelible mark. No longer would any new undead come into existence. Those that had already been crafted sadly received the same treatment that everyone alive did. Most notable among those were liches. The undying wizards were freed of Gerechtigkeit’s control just as any mortal. Their present body, however, would be the last they could inhabit before they met their true death. Argrave was uncertain of what to make of that. Would they be allies in the fight to come, or another point of weakness?

After the initial chaos, the initial unrest… everyone adapted surprisingly well. The more that Argrave thought on it, the more that he believed he had done something right. He’d thought himself saintly for refusing to follow Griffin’s schema for freedom from the heralds, but there was something to be said about the immorality of meddling with the soul. He’d had countless headaches pondering the morality of the burgeoning field of soul magic, and how such a thing might be regulated. Necromancy, too, was a point of concern.

Both moral dilemmas had been wiped out overnight.

They had severed contact with both Gerechtigkeit and the Heralds. It was a huge comfort in many ways, but Argrave couldn’t deny he wished to be able to speak to them. He would’ve loved a live reaction to him pulling the plug on every soul. The Heralds had been so incredibly arrogant—was this, too, part of their expectations? As for Griffin, Argrave hadn’t technically broken his agreement saying he’d take control of every human soul. Not that it mattered either way—as far as Argrave knew, the Heralds couldn’t interfere on Griffin’s behalf anymore, either.

Whatever the case, Argrave’s grandiose solution to the problem had been a great reset to the board. Gerechtigkeit’s scattered armies of necromantic beings, stripped of their ability to supply themselves with new troops, took more cautious stances, retreating far out of the reach of human influence. Jaray’s threats about the gods sweeping over them as a tide of misery proved to be less actionable than he’d suggested. The poisonous words the god of politics had spread persisted as an undermining rumor. The Heralds weren’t around to verify such claims to the contrary, and Argrave certainly wasn’t willing to enter Law’s Court to confirm it. Only time would tell how the dice would actually fall, when the war came.

Time flowed very quickly, heading toward the inevitable confrontation. Everything was in place.

Chapter 22

“Argrave has to die.”

Following that declaration, Jaray blew a puff of smoke from his mouth. He looked between countless gods arrayed here, who’d come either in-person or through emissaries. Following the tremendous display with the suns, doubts about the amiability of the newly-elected leader of the Blackgard Union had come into fruition in the form of this secret meeting. If Argrave would do something like that without consulting them, what more would he do? It was clear he didn’t have as much an interest in their opinion as he’d claimed.

“He’s gone to tremendous lengths to make sure that all of the cards remain in his hand,” Jaray continued. “When the final hand is dealt, and he alone decides what to do about the cycle of judgment, none of us will have any place remaining in his new order.”

“You claimed to me privately not a month ago that his efforts would lead to the end of all divinity,” one of the assembled gods noted. “The story’s a little different now.”

“I can’t prove it any longer.” Jaray shook his head. “I believe it, but the Heralds can’t back up my words. Their tongues have been cut off, effectively. Argrave decided that when he stole the souls of every living being and hid them away in his new sun. It’s emblematic of his intents toward all of us. To deprive without asking. To ‘help’ without consideration. Who’s to say what power he actually gained from it?”

“What are you suggesting?” another god questioned.

Jaray tipped his pipe, and ashes tumbled out. “Perhaps he can exert control as Gerechtigkeit intended to. Or perhaps, with just a thought, he could sever someone’s tie with their soul, killing them instantly. If either is true, he has all mortalkind in the palm of his hands. From rats to humans, cats to elves… in one fell swoop, he took it all. He can’t be allowed to do it again.”

“If he had any intention of cooperating, he could once again head to Law’s Court and explain himself. No—he remains in Blackgard, martialing his power, bringing every god and mortal that’s both loyal and powerful to prepare for Gerechtigkeit.” Another of the assembled wistfully shook their head. “If he intended to, he could’ve become a god long ago. That he hasn’t speaks of his intents. Argrave fights for the mortals alone.”

“Well said,” Jaray concurred. “But you mentioned a rather significant problem—one that’s the explanation for why I’ve brought us all here, rather overtly.” He raised his hand up. “Argrave remains in the heart of his power, building up more and more defenses around himself day by day. Some of the mortals surrounding him are nearly equal to gods in power, and even the gods are either too blindly trusting or simply don’t care about their own fate. Perhaps, idealistically, they believe their deaths would better serve this planet.”

“Ideals? We can’t have those,” a discontent-looking god said snidely.

Jaray inhaled deeply on his pipe, staring at the lone dissenter. “Any assassination will need to be exceedingly well-coordinated,” he continued. “To kill Argrave, both he and Anneliese need to be all but totally eviscerated. They share a divine power of a sorts which enables the both of them to survive off of the energy of everything. His blood magic burns through and absorbs anything’s essence—life force, magic, divine power, you name it—while Anneliese has an ability to distribute said essence. She can generally reinvigorate other’s supply of magic, but for Argrave, she can restore his body. They haven’t been idle in collecting an abundance of said essence. Any battle done with them will be devastatingly catastrophic.”

“That can’t be right,” one of the gods protested, leaning in. “That sort of power is absurd.”

“We’re talking about the pair that fought Sataistador, Erlebnis, and the Qircassian Coalition, and came out on top,” Jaray cut in quickly. “Not just that—the two that went to the Shadowlands, carved a path through it, and returned victorious, bringing back a powerful tool they employ even now to gain an advantage.”

“What tool?” Someone asked.

“Something that can bridge the Shadowlands and our realm,” Jaray answered smoothly. “Believe me or don’t—but all of you should know by now, I know things. Too many things. And I’ve helped all of you out, in one way or another, with that knowledge.”

The gods looked deeply conflicted, taking him at his words… but in time, it was clear that no protest would be brooked.

“Argrave has an undying soul. Even if we destroy his body down to the last particle, Anneliese can revive him.” Jaray walked around the assembled gods. “The same doesn’t hold true for Anneliese. Argrave can restore her by attacking something with his blood magic, true… but if she stays dead for a period longer than a few seconds, her soul will dissolve into nothingness. At that point, any essence he burns away won’t have a method of being redistributed. He’ll be vulnerable.”

“That’s the general plan.” One of the gods stood up from his seat, pacing around the room nervously. “But it doesn’t matter. We can’t get past the defenses he’s mustered. It was already heading that direction when it was established, but after the attack of that silver knight, Blackgard has become an impenetrable fortress. They’ve managed to recreate the protections of the Palace of Heaven.”

Silence and alarm spread through all present. They all looked to Jaray for answer.

“It’s true.” Jaray nodded. “And it’s something I’ve thought about plenty. Truth is, the Heralds haven’t been fully shut out. There’s one place where their voice can still be heard—and in that place, there’s one person that’s definitely listening.”

“Don’t be vague, Jaray, not now,” someone chided.

“It’s a place that the light of the sun’s never reached before,” he responded. “Argrave may have gained entry to the Shadowlands, but that certainly doesn’t mean he’s tamed them. It’s not perfect. As a matter of fact, it’s rather ramshackle. But we have a venue to coordinate. We have a force sufficient enough even Argrave’s defenses will be forced to move. All we need to be is ready.”

#####

“…and that’s what he said,” Lorena finished summarizing.

“Good lord. There’s nothing quite like having omniscience on your side, is there? I appreciate the moon more and more every day.” Argrave chuckled, hiding his mouth behind his hand.

Argrave, Anneliese, and Elenore sat around in a quaint pavilion atop the mountains of Blackgard. They had taken to meeting here, just to get a proper survey of the situation. Without the wonders of druidic magic, Argrave was again coming to appreciate the sight of a gorgeous view viewed from his own two eyes. But their guest, Lorena, could see all—and she’d employed her kin as information-gatherers, working on their behalf.

“It’s not really omniscience,” Lorena reminded him, though she shared his smile. “And it is still concerning. The Shadowlands present a legitimate threat. Perhaps Jaray is ignorant of the fact that I’m helping you, but I’d put nothing past him. His specialty was knowing things, and this was long before the Heralds started whispering in his ear. Who can say what sort of subtle misdirection this is?”

“Their threat is a little less legitimate since I introduced a little morsel of open society to them.” Argrave looked at Anneliese, who sat at his right. “The Manumitter has been helping Elenore keep tabs on them, hasn’t she? Their revolution has been holding its own.”

Anneliese nodded. “Some of the ancient heroes that we left to help them agreed to be subsumed into some of the Shadowlanders. The revolution against the Hopeful’s control inherited some of the best expertise in strategy and leadership the world has ever seen, or will ever see. When we’ve conversed with the revolution, they’ve directly cited the men and women we left behind as a source for continued success against the Hopeful despite their inferior numbers.”

Argrave had been a little surprised—and very worried—when he’d heard that some of the ancient heroes that Garm had brought back agreed to be subsumed into the Shadowlanders. Ultimately, they elected to live on, even if in this bizarre, subordinate fashion. He couldn’t fault them that, and perhaps it was a good thing. It gave their foes some sympathies with Argrave’s people.

“I think we can trust them not to act against our best interests,” Argrave said—not a ringing endorsement, but the truth. “Even if not, the Shadowlanders are in in the middle of a civil war. Neither side is especially eager for compromise.” He looked at Lorena. “Do you have any further insights about the Shadowlands? Can the Heralds really reach there?”

Lorena shook her head. “All that I know is that it’s an important place for the cycle of judgment. The Heralds can definitely reach there—specifically, they can reach the Hopeful alone.”

“Cockroaches. Just as prophesied, they survived my little nuclear explosion with the suns.” Argrave scratched his cheek, feeling somewhat disappointed. “What’s the worst-case scenario for us?”

“Gerechtigkeit, the Shadowlanders, and Jaray’s traitorous factions team up, coordinate an attack, and specifically try to target us to dismantle the opposition that we’ve made,” Anneliese summarized. “That’s an eventuality that we’ve already been preparing for.”

“It’s difficult to conceptualize how powerful Gerechtigkeit will be in this cycle,” Lorena noted, crossing her arms. “You remember your friend, Castro, and his A-rank ascension of [Arete]? Manifesting all of the potential of one spell, in a single attack.”

Argrave nodded. “I remember. One F-rank spell tore through Shadowlanders with ease.”

“That’s essentially what Gerechtigkeit will be,” Lorena pointed out. “The Heralds claim he’ll be as strong as every past iteration, combined.”

Argrave had heard the same claim. Lorena had earned the Heralds’ trust, and hearing it mimicked through her, didn’t have any reason to disbelieve it. As Lorena said, such a thing was very difficult to conceptualize.

“For the first time ever, we’re on equal footing with our foe in terms of information-gathering.” Elenore finally spoke up. “Nothing happens on this planet, or any of the divine realms, without Lorena getting word of it. There won’t be any surprises, any more misdirection. Any strategy they devise, we’ll have to counter with equal force, equal tactics, or risk being overwhelmed.” She looked at Lorena. “That means it’s long overdue, Lorena.”

“Raven’s been talking to Hause,” Lorena said defensively. “He’s been doing his best to convince her, and I’ve been doing my best for him. He says that he hates me a lot, but you can’t deny my results.”

It was true—Argrave couldn’t. With the prospect of Raven’s soul still having a use in the future taken off the table, Lorena made an effort to help Raven become less abominable in his own eyes—therapy with a space dragon, Argrave called it affectionately. And Raven, in turn, had been speaking to Hause and her followers. He’d gone through tremendous lengths to save them as the Smiling Raven, and stood as testament that Hause’s power wasn’t necessarily all bad.

“I think it’s time to stop pussyfooting around the goddess of potential.” Argrave looked out the pavilion, looking out at the changed Blackgard. Gods and their servants roamed freely, acting in stalwart defense of the city. It’d exploded in population, and architects were hard-pressed keeping up with the demand. “Before any real fighting starts, we need to have Hause unlock our potential. Elsewise, we might get assassinated. And that’s… unideal.”

Chapter 23

“This isn’t the time to be hesitant anymore, Hause,” Argrave said plainly, leaning forth on the stone chair provided to him. “We’re going to be facing something that’s far beyond our imagination. This could quite possibly be the last time that you have the opportunity to use your divine powers. Let it be in service of something good.”

Argrave, alongside Anneliese and Raven, sat in the heart of Hause’s temple in Blackgard. The underground cathedral had been carved out of the mountain, and drained of the magic within its stone to return the rock to its original sleek gray. Opposite them sat Hause, the goddess of potential and her closest acolyte, Sonia. They appeared rather polarized to each other—the goddess blonde and tall, and Sonia with black hair and short stature. Both of their gazes lingered in the direction of Raven, but they still gave attention to this meeting.

It was understandable they cast glances at their old friend. Raven had changed, substantially. Lorena insisted on helping him improve his self-image. Among her people, a monstrous and decaying body was the sign of a deteriorated mental state. She thought it would be best for him if his image returned to as he’d been before—and he had, in large part. His form was always somewhat in flux, but he retained the image of the ashen-haired human that Argrave had seen only in memories.

“My ability is not as precise as you believe it to be,” Hause argued. “Anyone who goes through the process will come out of the other end changed. This could affect more than physical or mystical strength alone—it could fundamentally alter the nature of a person. And it may not even change the person in a way that will help you and yours in the fighting.”

“But it certainly could. As to the changes you speak of… even I retained my reason, my mental acuity, until I made the mistake of employing my power of potentiation on another,” Raven argued, standing in the corner of the room. “That was what broke me. Not your power. It wasn’t your mistake.”

“He’s right. Come on.” Argrave put both of his arms on the table between them. “You had to have done this with other people before Raven. Not every use of your ability ended up backfiring, didn’t it?”

“Even before that, it was enough that my goddess exercised discretion,” Sonia cut in. “She would come to know a person’s character very well before ever allowing them to realize their dormant potential.”

“And she has learned our people well!” Argrave leaned back in the chair, holding his arms wide. “Not too long ago, I had the opportunity to bring the whole world under my thrall. It might have been considered the pragmatic thing to do. Instead, I turned my nose up at it, and I did what I felt was the most moral thing. I can give you dossiers full of good deeds that my companions have done, too.”

Anneliese placed both her hands on the table gently. “You face death on the end of either choice, Hause. Either you will lament the fact that you helped someone realize their innate talent, because they cost lives… or you will regret the fact that you did not, because Gerechtigkeit came in greater force than we anticipated and killed countless of our people.”

Before she could respond, Argrave pushed the attack. “I’m going to be blunt with you, because you’ve been a constant stabilizing force in Blackgard that I’ve come to respect and appreciate.” Argrave scooted his chair closer to the table and Anneliese. “I have reason to believe that divinity itself will cease to be once we break the cycle of judgment. The things that you’re scared of… all of your fears could become irrelevant. In a few months, when I’ve inevitably won, all divinity might cease to exist entirely.”

Goddess and acolyte had diverging reactions.

“Is that true?” Sonia asked loudly, leaning in.

The goddess herself, meanwhile, said with muted surprise, “So the rumors were true.”

Argrave nodded, answering the both of them at once.

“I have no issue surrendering my divinity, Sonia,” the goddess said, placing her hand upon the acolyte’s. “Could anyone protest at having lived thousands of years, with unimaginable power at their fingertips? Some might say such a thing is already too much for one person. That is no issue to me. In fact, it almost sounds peaceful.”

“Death isn’t certain,” Raven added. “Perhaps you would simply become what you were again. Or perhaps you would wither into nothingness as you are. Either way, divinity is near as unconscionable as Gerechtigkeit himself. Its end would be a positive, not a negative. Gods are merely another terrible facet of the cycle of judgment. There’s a reason why the Shadowlands are filled with dead gods, and a reason why the Hopeful listens to the Heralds’ words yet. They are a part of this—and they must end.”

No one could rebuke his words because Raven stood to lose just as much as Hause did. If divinity disappeared, so did his ability to potentiate, to shift his flesh.

“All of you make quite the persuasive argument…” Hause closed her eyes, adjusting her pink gown. “I… am beginning to see that I may be overcautious, when such odds face us. Had I been less cautious in the past, perhaps fewer lives might’ve been lost in the battle against the silver knight. Or, those thousand other battles held before it. Though, perhaps not. I lacked a certain stabilizing element we now possess.”

“Could you elaborate on what you mean?” Anneliese pressed.

Hause let out a long sigh, glancing at Sonia before facing Argrave once more. “You are powerful, Argrave. You and Anneliese alone could match gods—perhaps even Law, though I don’t suggest you tempt fate by doing so. This is why I cannot yet agree with unlocking your potential. With particular emphasis on ‘yet,’ I stress.”

“I think there’s a but that turns that sour statement into something sweet,” Argrave noted. “Am I right?”

“I am willing to do so for those that serve beneath you,” Hause gestured. “This is because you, or the other gods, could serve as a check for their unlocked power if it turns out to be beyond their ken.”

“Hmm.” Argrave cradled his chin. “So, long-term, you would be willing to use your power on Anneliese and I, but short-term, you’d like to do some trials on my subordinates?”

“When you call it a trial, it sounds somewhat nefarious. But yes, that’s the truth in my words.” She shook her head. “Your queen is right in saying that death may lie at the end of both roads—inaction or action. This cautious foray into lands unseen, I think, is a compromise I’m willing to take.”

Argrave nodded. Hause’s ability, much like the Fruits of Being, was something that was unpredictable in what it could truly achieve. It had been responsible for the total eradication of an entire continent. That power could appear again, and be harnessed toward greater ends. He certainly hoped that would be the case.

“What do you think will honestly happen?” Argrave asked. “I mean… is everyone going to get a power like Raven’s?”

“No, not a chance,” Hause said with a certain conviction. “Raven was born innately capable of what he became. I drew it out of him, but in the end, he wasn’t fundamentally altered. As a matter of fact, my fears about you may be unfounded. Your dormant potential could amount to nothing more than a base trick. I doubt it, but it’s possible.”

“Why do you doubt it?” Argrave asked.

“It can’t be a coincidence that you, who’ve come so close to dismantling the cycle of judgment, bear a potential I perceive as being related to judgment.” Hause crossed her arms. “My power is the closest thing to prophecy that’s ever existed. That’s why it concerns me. That’s why, of everyone, I least want to unlock yours.”

“But the potential exists,” Argrave said. “And you said that someone can realize it on their own.”

“Yes,” Hause confirmed. “For now, you have my assent. Bring me people you trust. Let me assess them myself. And if I think they’re worthy, I’ll help your allies realize their potential.”

“We can give you the first wave right now, I think,” Argrave said, casting a glance at Anneliese to get her confirmation. “Orion, Elenore, Galamon, Durran, Melanie…”

“Nikoletta, and perhaps the Parbons,” Anneliese contributed. “Elenore has praised their houses a fair bit for the handling of the various crises. If we’re seeking a good starting point, perhaps they would be it. The people we have are already capable, but we possess an abundance of good souls without power enough to be a substantive help. Perhaps that can change?”

“Good points.” Argrave nodded, then looked back to Hause. “We’ll work out a list, alright? An hour, no more than that.”

“That fast?” Hause said, but eventually gave her confirmation. “I’ll make no plans for today, then.”

#####

“If something’s clumped together…” Jaray said, peering over a map of the continent of Berendar. “Best to spread it out, spread it thin. Argrave’s shown a history of overextending in the face of crisis. He’d sooner put himself at risk than have those beneath him suffer casualties. In concert with what the Shadowlanders have planned… we should plan our own assault.”

His fingers wandered to various cities, tapping them.

“We’ll target major strategic centers,” he continued. “Relize. Mateth. Parbon. Dirracha. First Hope. Quadreign. Jast. Elbraille. Lasthold. The Tower of the Gray Owl. The mobile cities of the elves in the Bloodwoods. Even beneath them—the dwarves.” He looked around. “For those of you unwilling to risk yourself so much, we can also stage a major offensive throughout the Great Chu.”

“They’ll know we’re coming,” another god argued. “They’ll be prepared.”

“But they’ll be diverted from their central point—Blackgard.” Jaray raised a finger. “And we’ll still be gods.”

“It does seem the best way…” another god concurred. “But it doesn’t solve the root problem.”

“No one can plan for everything.” Jaray shook his head, leaning away from the map. “Not even Argrave, after all he’s done. He’s made as many powerful enemies as he has powerful friends. When the time comes, I’ll call in some favors.” He picked up his pipe, still casting smoke into the air. “Call in some strikers.”

“Who?” one asked.

“Let me worry about that.” He inhaled his pipe deeply. “Better that I alone know. Rest assured… I want to end him more than anyone. It’s the most convenient solution.”

Chapter 24

Durran stared out across the vast emptiness of the Burnt Desert. As he did, the words of the woman he loved echoed in his head.

I don’t want you to fight, Elenore had said. I want you to stay in Blackgard, with me.

As he saw the countless people of his homeland running away, he’d felt the words that he’d said after rang all the truer.

This is bigger than you or me alone, Durran had said. Not many people are willing to do what has to be done. If everyone listened to that voice in their head that told them to do what they want, no one would get anything they need.

Durran turned back, looking away from the Burnt Desert and turning his gaze toward its coast. The ocean itself throbbed and pulsed, ascending to greater heights until it began to dwarf the mountains all around these sandy dunes. Countless deities that governed spheres relating to water had coalesced, coming to this point in stark opposition against this arid desert, against the Kingdom of Vasquer and all it stood for. Leading their tide was Fellhorn, undoubtedly, come to reclaim the land he had made more barren than ever.

“It’s a high tide, boys,” Durran shouted, spinning his glaive between his fingers as he walked to where his wyvern waited. He climbed aback the creature, placing himself firmly in the saddle. Hundreds of warriors of the southern tribes, supported by just as many southron elves, looked to him for guidance. He raised his glaive high and continued, “If anyone can conquer the water, it’d be us. We’re the warriors of the desert—and all of us, all of us, know what that means. Let’s give my kingly brother-in-law a pleasant surprise, yeah? When he shows up to help… let’s make sure none are left!” He shouted at the top of his lungs.

Durran’s wyvern ran forth a few steps and then took off gracefully. Those fleeing thousands behind him elevated his rage, his intense desire to protect, all the higher. He would meet this high tide with waves of power of his own. He felt it all course through him—an entire lifetime all leading up to a moment.

This was where the world would be made anew, or broken entirely.

#####

Galamon looked down at his gauntleted hand, moving his fingers one by one. There was new power within him. He’d thought that, having lived as long as he had and done as much as he’d done, nothing remained for him. But Hause had proven otherwise, and given him something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing.

“You don’t need to take the front, Galamon,” Patriarch Dras said. “This land is foreign to us. We’ve been here no longer than a year at most. These people outnumber ours ten to one, nearly. Let these people of the Great Chu throw themselves upon the coming barbarian hordes. Let’s build a wall from their corpses, and defend what remains.”

Galamon looked up, where a great tide of troops swarmed out of the jungles of the north. At the head of these hosts were gods, bringing structure and order to what was already a tremendously potent force. The Veidimen, gathered together in ruthless discipline, waited orders as the Great Chu soldiers already arranged to fight. Emperor Ji Meng had taken command, once again, intent on throwing back this force.

“Command is mine.” Galamon looked over. “Veid Herself has blessed my actions, and I have realized my full potential. I must fight. All of us must. We cannot claim this land as our own if we would not bleed to defend it.”

Patriarch Dras closed his eyes, sighing. “Very well, Galamon. Achieve victory. For your wife, for your son.”

“Not only them.” He nodded. “For all. Let us unite for all.”

Galamon strode forth, heading for the front of the Veidimen army. There, Veid already awaited. Something lingered in his step—something he thought had been killed, cast aside. Perhaps it had been brought back, or perhaps it hadn’t ever truly been killed.

Vampirism hounded Galamon’s step.

No longer was the hungry beast his master… rather, he owned it. He had again become a conduit for that awful power. Its strengths had returned tenfold, while its weaknesses had utterly vanished. Such a power had a cost, of course. Galamon felt a terrible hunger that ate at his whole body. Once, the blood of mortals had calmed it.

Now, only the blood of gods could sate its hunger.

#####

“Why do we always get sent underground, Dario?” Melanie asked as she stared up at the giant stone statue of a bearded dwarf. It depicted the founder of this great underground dwarven city, Mundi, with a great jar hefted his shoulder. “I go with them to Sandelabara underground. We fight the underground lich. Elenore even gave me a county that was underground.”

“Stop complaining. They’re coming.” Dario’s red eyes gazed straight ahead at the entrance to Mundi—it banged mightily, a resounding echo that permeated the whole city. Thousands of dwarves stood at the ready, armaments trained on the gate. Thousands more manned ballistae of Dario’s design, empowered by lava and packing a bolt that could pierce six feet of steel.

“I’m not complaining,” Melanie said, pausing as another huge bang echoed throughout the city. “I’m just saying.”

“I spent most of my life underground,” Dario answered. “As for you… we work well together.”

“So it’s your fault,” she noted, hefting her large chitinous sword. “Just my luck…”

Dario looked at her. “We can’t let a single enemy into the pressure regulator. If that building behind us falls to the enemy…” He turned around, where a huge, heavily-shielded building stood tall. “Then the pressure will hit us, all at once. We’ll be crushed instantly beneath the weight of the world. I imagine the surface will experience tremendous earthquakes. Essentially… millions could die if we fail.”

“Hmm.” Melanie rolled her shoulder. “Well, you’re used to the weight of the world being on your shoulders. And you’ve got your suit, again.” She studied him.

Dario once again donned the mechanical construct that he’d worn when he was in the service of the Heralds. With it, he could confidently stand up to gods of any stripe. And unlike when he’d been the conduit for the Heralds, it wouldn’t destroy his body any longer. Such an improvement was half due to Hause unlocking an ability to personally act as a fuel source for artificial constructs, and half due to the fact Argrave and Anneliese had bestowed tremendous harvested essence to give him power to use the suit without killing himself.

“Its power won’t last forever,” Dario cautioned.

“Then I’ll pick up the slack,” Melanie said with a smile as she ran her free hand through her long red hair. “I’m getting used to it. Wish Hause had done as much for me as she did for you… but I don’t need a handicap,” she taunted.

The gargantuan gate to Mundi busted, and a single hand, positively dripping with lava, reached out and grasped at air. Melanie opened a portal, walked through, and appeared just above the hand. She swung with all her might, and it cleaved straight through the arm. Before she hit the ground, another portal took her back, and she landed up right beside Dario again.

“I can still fight. Everything seems to be in order…” Melanie hefted her blade. “Long day, I imagine. Long week.”

“But at the end of it… there might be a long life,” Dario said quietly. “I’d like that.”

#####

Ingo walked around the top floor of the Tower of the Gray Owl. He was joined by the most prominent living spellcasters of Berendar beyond the king’s inner circle—namely, Hegazar and Vera, the duke and duchess of Dirracha, and Artur, master of the Hall of Enchantment.

“I need to head to the bottom,” Ingo asked of the three. “Elenore sent word. Apparently, the roaming armies intend to target the base of the tower. They’re going to try and attack it.”

“Listen…” Hegazar held his hand up. “It’s great that Argrave liked you enough to show you to some pretty goddess, give you an oh-so-special power. I’m happy for you—I am. But our focus…” He walked to the balcony, looking upward. “Should be on that big bastard of a storm, baby blue.”

Ingo stared up at the gathering storm miles up in the sky. Apparently, countless gods worked in tandem to create it. It was highly mobile, and promised to be highly destructive. While some gods would be doing what they could to defend, and Argrave might eventually arrive to permanently resolve the situation… everyone would be stretched thin. To that end, the Order of the Gray Owl had been instructed to resolve this situation.

“My duke is right,” Vera said, nodding as she walked to join the two. “The armies that the nobles raised will be focused on dealing with the forces that assault from the ground. In the meantime, Castro taught you more about this tower than anyone still alive. Can you leverage something to stop the storm? That’s the duty Argrave gave us.”

Ingo thought long and hard, until finally he raised his head up determinedly. “I can do something. But I’ll need your help, Artur. We have to rewrite the tower’s enchantments.”

“Rewrite them?” Artur repeated. “I may be skilled, but not that skilled.”

“I can help. It’s part of the power Hause gave me,” Ingo confirmed. “The Tower of the Gray Owl already has a lightning rod to help recharge the tower’s enchantments. I can reconfigure it to take all manner of fire—I’m certain of it.”

“Well…” Artur looked between Ingo and the ducal pair. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Let’s just hope the nobles finally prove to be worth their salt.” Hegazar shook his head.

“Said one of the high nobles,” Vera pointed out. “Myself… I think our tower is going to collapse by the end of the day.”

“We have to try,” Ingo insisted. “We can’t let the legacy of the Order of the Gray Owl amount to nothing.”

“We can,” Artur argued. “It’d be ridiculously easy—we’d just have to do nothing. But I’m here, and I’ve got time, so let’s get to work. Make Castro proud, won’t you?”

#####

“Mina… are you sure you want to do this?” Nikoletta asked her friend—or rather, someone who’d become far more than a mere friend—as they exited Hause’s temple.

Mina looked up at Nikoletta. “Nicky, for the first time… Hause has given me the ability to do as much for you as you’ve done for me. There’s no chance in hell you can convince me not to join your side—especially because she gave you no power of your own.”

“Alright.” Nikoletta closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. “Let’s go see Argrave.”

They walked through the city of Blackgard, pushing past the chaotic crowds as they headed toward the parliamentary hall. Once they arrived there, they saw the countless others gathered around. Duke Sumner, the whole of the house of Parbon, the rulers of the city of Jast, the Archduchess of the North and her sister, Vasilisa of Quadreign… it was the whole of Vasquer, brought together and centered around Argrave.

“Nikoletta,” Argrave called out, looking up. “Good. Come here. Elenore needs to establish connection. We’re just about to get started.”

Nikoletta joined the crowd of nobles. All of them had been taken away from their hosts, and soon, they would return with their duty bestowed by their kind. There, gods and traitors of all kinds would await them. Nikoletta had waited for this day with dread, but she would meet it fearlessly now that it would come. Such was her duty.

“I’m not going to mandate what it is you should do,” Argrave continued, speaking to all. “I’ll tell you what I know, and then expect you to use your best judgment. You’re my vassals, and I trust you. My own forces will be monitoring the situation, and should it ever grow too desperate, we’ll show up to relieve you. The fact is… this is going to be a desperate struggle. Fight every second as if the enemy has a knife at your neck, because it might only take a second for that to be true.”

“We approach the final hour,” Anneliese contributed. “The days will be long and hard for all of us, but at the end of all this lies true liberty. And with it, we can give those that come after us eras of endless peace and boundless prosperity. Fight with that image in your mind.”

“I’ve gone as deep as the planet’s core and as high as the suns, moving mountains and rebirthing stars in preparation for this day,” Argrave picked up when silence fell. “But at the end of the road… the fate of the world rests in its own hand. It rests in our hands, all of us. I’ll do my best to carry everyone I can, and if all of you can help me just a little… I know we can push it over the line.” He nodded intently, then shouted, “I’m right, aren’t I?!”

Affirmative calls filled the square.

“Then I’ll waste no more time,” Argrave said. “Let me tell you what we’re facing…”

Chapter 25

Argrave was certainly no master of warfare. There was one thing that he understood very well, though, having once watched an entire one (1) video on Napoleon’s misadventures with the coalitions when he’d been bored, thus making him at least an expert in the field. Speed and maneuverability were incredibly important factors in any battle. Being able to reach a position, providing either timely reinforcement or carrying out a devastating blow to an undefended front, could often decide the fate of entire campaigns.

That was the crux of their defense strategy.

The benefit of being the defender was that one held a defensive position—the onus was on the other party to launch the attack. The castles and fortifications throughout Berendar could finally be put to good use. The primary instruction that Argrave had given each and all of the people throughout him domain was simply this: hold the line, and wait for relief. Argrave, and a few key other heavy-hitters, was that relief.

The hardest task didn’t rest on his shoulders, however. Elenore had expanded her network of mental connections to a vast degree to compensate for the loss of druidic magic. She was also supported by Lira, the goddess of connections. The two of them, together, received and processed communications from around the continent. They obtained reports, processed them, and gave judgment calls. It was unimaginably mentally taxing… yet Elenore was up to the task. Even someone as pretentious as Raven had acknowledged her genius.

And most importantly, Elenore could make the difficult calls without hesitating.

The first thirty seconds after everyone had departed was tense, and Argrave stared at Elenore as she listened to hundreds of voices in her head with some help from Lira. Finally, though, she opened her gray eyes, focused on Argrave, and gave the first command that ushered Argrave into non-stop battle.

“Reinforce Quadreign, immediately,” she said with certainty.

With a nod, Argrave called upon a blood echo that had been distributed long in advance. Ordinarily, maintaining an echo at such a long distance would be impossible—with sufficient focus, however, he could maintain countless in various different locations. He simply couldn’t employ them in the fight, lest that focus waver.

Argrave went from the pleasant warmness of Blackgard to the harsh cold of Quadreign in moments. Deafening noises and flashing lights disoriented him immediately, and he looked to the sky to see a power near equal to his own raging: the black flame of House Quadreign.

Hause’s ability had given Vasilisa of Quadreign the ability to wield her house’s purging flame as an extension of herself. All around, it raged defiantly against a swarm of insects of such scope that the sky itself had vanished. No more light reached the north—the only thing keeping this place illuminated was Quadreign’s black flame and the countless spells that ascended upward to fight the coming killers. The ground, too, was covered by bugs—centipedes, cockroaches, ants, all in such numbers they appeared to turn the ground into rolling waves of blacks and brown.

Vasilisa stood on the top of her family’s clock tower, wielding the flame as though she held two whips. She was frighteningly effective given how little time she’d had her power, yet the insects were so numerous she couldn’t keep them from entering the city. Already, entire houses were overrun, their inhabitants devoured in mere seconds. Argrave already stood amidst these swarms, protected only by Artur’s enchanted armor. Even wards broke in seconds before this insect tide.

“Elenore judged you’d need help,” came a voice from beside Argrave, and he turned his head to see Raven standing there. Any insects that came near him walked inside his body like they were welcome… and never came out, absorbed into his being.

“Trace the gods controlling the bugs using [Truesight]. They’re the key,” Argrave commanded quickly. “Then, help me kill them!”

Without waiting for an answer, Argrave closed his eyes and scoured Erlebnis’ wiki for something usable against this mass. [Apollyon] would work, but it used too much of his blood—he only needed to kill bugs, not gods. With the criteria of something with a large area of effect that couldn’t kill people, yet could still reach the creatures worming their way through the ground or the smallest cracks, it didn’t take long for him to find what he needed. Invented by a jungle explorer tired of mosquitoes, this spell had already been intended for a similar scenario… though on a lesser scale.

Argrave took a few moments to work out how to use [Blood Infusion] on the spell, then opened his eyes. He gathered the spell in both hands, then held his arms out. Two blood-infused pulses of electricity exploded outward, dispersing upon contact with either the ground or the copious swarms filling the area. Argrave continued to cast the spell, feeling it chip away at his vitality. Electricity began to course throughout the whole city. The swarms became clouds of red lightning, burning away into nothingness. As they died, essence delivered by Anneliese filled his being.

Argrave heard screams of pain as his electricity hit a great many citizens, but he considered that a good thing. Better they suffer some burns than die to hordes of bugs. After countless pulses of mosquito repellant, Argrave and Vasilisa together reached a stalemate with the bugs. And after a time…

“Traced it. Only one,” Raven shouted. “I’ll expose it.”

Raven held his arms out, over a dozen mana ripples echoing from hands growing from his body before a tremendous burst of fire cleared a massive stretch of insects. There, Argrave saw a putrid-looking wasp with a swollen abdomen that had holes inside of it, as if it were a beehive. Argrave didn’t hesitate to call upon a spell he and Anneliese had designed long in advance.

Argrave held his arm up, and cast the S-rank [Godkiller]. His entire arm all the way up past his shoulder exploded into gore, and in its place, a bolt of pure blood magic rose to the sky. Argrave screamed in agony as he manipulated it with his will, sending it hurtling after the god of insects. It was fast—with a flight pattern rather similar to a dragonfly’s, it avoided Argrave’s attempts to hit it countless times. With his left arm, however, he prepared a lightning spell. At the right time, he struck it. The spell struck instantly, and when the god wavered for half a second, [Godkiller] slammed into it.

The spell was true to its word, and the god died immediately. As his blood magic consumed the resulting spirits, vitality poured into Argrave, and his arm returned to him as quickly as it disappeared. This horde of insects, broken of their unifying force, let out a sound so horrifying that Argrave couldn’t help but cover his ears. Everything became chaos, and millions, billions, perhaps even trillions of insects dispersed and turned on each other.

“The hold is broken,” said Raven once there was quiet enough, stating the obvious. “But the effects of this will be felt for years to come.”

“We can worry about that once we make sure there are years to come. Take me to Vasilisa,” Argrave commanded.

Raven grabbed Argrave, using shamanic magic to teleport them a short distance. Argrave arrived atop the belltower, where she still diligently wielded the black fire.

“Vasilisa,” Argrave shouted. “Need anything more? Any other threats?”

“None.” she answered, short of breath. “But I might need reinforcements. The gods you stationed here… they died in moments. And my sister… my sister was out there. She took the field, heading the army,” she said quietly. “Said it was her duty… as archduchess.”

Argrave looked back. On high, barely beyond the valleys, he saw the island city of First Hope. Its tower, made in imitation of the Tower of the Gray Owl, had toppled. Argrave couldn’t tell if anyone was alive or dead from this far. If things had been this bad here… beyond, could anyone survive?

“We can’t worry about that now,” Argrave said, both to her and to himself. “The people below—you have their lives in your hand. Remember that.” He looked to Raven, giving the man a nod. “I’m leaving. Stay in touch with Elenore.”

Argrave called upon one of many blood echoes lingering in Blackgard, letting his blood transfer him away. When he arrived before Elenore, he was reminded that this was the first of many relief efforts, and the first of many tragedies he’d have to bear witness to.

A deafening boom jolted Argrave, and he ducked low while looking about frantically. He moved to the window, seeing a huge beam of power leaving its mark in the sky. It seemed to have come from the Tower of the Gray Owl.

“That was… Ingo,” Elenore’s voice came weakly, and he looked at her to see her sweating a great deal. Lira looked similarly strained. “He sacrificed the tower to destroy the various storm gods.”

Argrave’s heart sunk—how many had died?

“The threat from the sky is gone,” she continued. “But Ingo is dead, Hegazar lost his magic, and Vera and Artur are both out of commission for the rest of the fight. They preserved most of the Magisters of the Gray Owl. Raccomen’s portal was destroyed, too—it’ll be harder for the gods to reinforce us, or us to reinforce them.”

Argrave inhaled deeply to swallow his shock, looking around. “Where are the others?”

“Dispatched,” Elenore explained quickly. “The north was the worst hit, but the others still have it bad. Head to Jast—Mina and Anneliese are holding out as best they can, but Nikoletta’s force was routed, and it might be wiped out. Be aware—Mina’s illusion spells have become reality, in a sense. Anneliese is there keeping her magic supply up. She’s doing incredibly well, but her attackers are just as fierce.”

“Got it.” Argrave nodded.

Argrave called upon the echo in Jast, and felt his body carried away by his blood toward the famed city of magic.

#####

“Damn it…” Jaray cursed, then poured the ashes from his pipe onto a map of northern Berendar, where Quadreign was. “I had higher hopes for Emmyt. He was the closest to an ancient god we had. He underestimated Argrave… or maybe he didn’t. That black flame was unexpected. If he’d just hung back…”

“Right, sure. The closest. There’s no one else.” Another god shook his head with amusement. “Come on. Don’t you think it’s time to pull out the card? I know you, know your games.”

Jaray set his pipe down on the table, then nodded. “You’re right. Since you know me so well, Ail… do you have a courier ready for the god of deception?”

“All but.” The god of couriers smiled, pleased he’d predicted Jaray correctly. “What shall I tell Rook?”

“Tell Rook that we’ll open a path for him to kill Law,” Jaray said, and the other god nodded. “No one’s actually seen Lorena, but I have to think she’s on their side. That means they know our plans as soon as I’ve said them. Get a message to the force south of Jast, and have them fold inward on Parbon. Make Argrave choose—save Law, or save the Lionsun Castle.”

“Given two choices, Argrave often invents a third,” Ail counseled.

“You’re right, sadly…” Jaray took the counsel seriously, staring at the map hard. “Let’s give him a third choice, then. Don’t call off the force from Jast. Have them press Nikoletta’s band into this valley north of it, and divert those near Dirracha to pincer them. Durran’s resistance is going too well. Have Fellhorn retreat and attack Parbon, instead. His tides should be able to send some mountains tumbling down on the Lionsun Castle.”

“We’re concentrating our forces… dangerous. But it seems necessary,” Ail sighed. “Couriers are en route. They’ll have their orders in mere moments, sir.”

“I’ll take the field once Law dies.” Jaray packed his pipe again.

“Once?” Ail repeated.

“Do you think Argrave will save people, or save some ancient god?” Jaray shook his head. “Law is more useful to their cause, but Argrave values people more.”

“I get nervous when you say things so confidently.” Ail leaned over the map. “Guess we’ll see.”

Chapter 26

When Argrave arrived atop one of the tall towers at Jast, he’d expected many things—foremost among them being that the tower he’d stored his echo on had fallen, and he’d be in freefall. Surprisingly, the large black tower hadn’t fallen. Quick glances around showed that none had fallen… and rather, they’d expanded to an alarming degree.

Each of the towers had taken heavy damage—enough to break their enchantments and make them topple. Instead, new structures had been built around them: braces, supports, and wires, all to hold together this crumbling city. Beyond mere structural support, ballistae and other such weapons of war manned by strange, shapeless men fired back at the besiegers. Argrave could see magic coursing through them, and realized what this was.

These were Mina’s illusions—though illusions no longer, it appeared.

“Argrave!”

Hearing Anneliese’s voice, Argrave whipped his head to the direction it had come from. Anneliese and Mina stood together, overseeing the whole city. Powerful waves of magic shot out at the heart of the city from beyond its walls, and Anneliese dutifully crafted wards to block the worst attacks. As Argrave moved to join them, he looked at the besieger. His eyes sharpened when he saw her.

Almazora, goddess of magic.

“Grave! Kill that bitch! Nicky’s in danger!” Mina shouted savagely as he finally joined with them. The small woman looked exhausted, yet from the look on her face it’d be ages before she gave up the fight.

“Be calm, lest others die from overeagerness,” Anneliese assured, her focus never wavering from the fight. She didn’t look at Argrave, but she could tell her next words were directed toward him. “Almazora betrayed us. Presumably Jaray wormed fears into her—fears about magic disappearing once the cycle of judgment end. She would surrender her divinity, but never magic. That was our oversight.”

“Jast is dense with magic,” Mina continued. “A lot of spellcasters were here. Almazora stole the magic from most of them, then detonated the ambient magic. Without Anneliese, not a one of us could’ve cast a single spell.” Mina glanced over to where a wayward fireball had struck a tower. It began to tumble, yet Mina held her hand out and conjured an illusory brace in seconds that held it in place. She looked at Argrave. “Some ‘god of pain’ is leading a force against Nikoletta’s army. When he looks at you… it’s torture.” She shuddered.

“Got it. Pain’s no trouble. Magic’s no obstacle.”  Argrave walked to the edge of the tower, holding up his arm and casting [Godkiller] once more.

Argrave’s arm exploded—he was already getting used to the feeling, which was somewhat sad. Almazora ceased all assaults, desperately bringing to bear a thousand wards in little more than a second. The approaching bolt of pure blood magic was slowed, yet it chewed through wards like a tank’s gun through glass. A torrent of vitality poured back into Argrave as Anneliese returned all the magic the spell shattered, and his arm slowly reshaped.

Argrave had already signed Almazora’s death warrant in his head… yet then his bolt of blood exploded in a swirl of black and dark red. He could tell in seconds that wasn’t working as intended. The blackness took to motion, flowing downward toward the goddess of magic. When the dust settled, he saw his magic pouring into her cosmic weave of hair. The goddess held her arms out, and her assault began again, redoubled.

Anneliese grabbed him and made them both crouch behind a parapet atop the tower, while Mina tirelessly worked to repair the damage Almazora was doing to the city.

“Anne?” Argrave asked, focusing on her.

“Almazora can deconstruct spells that she studies for long enough, and with a mere touch she can steal magic.” Anneliese peeked over the top, assessing things. As she did, she muttered, “She has my A-rank ability with twice the potency, and more powers beside.”

Argrave was about to ask Anneliese if he could stay conscious if he exploded two of his arms at the same time, but Elenore’s voice pierced his head first.

“Word from Lorena. Rook’s a traitor,” his sister said. “We expected this from the god of deception, but I thought he’d go after you. Wrong. He’s after Law.”

Argrave processed that information as Anneliese rose, conjuring countless distant wards. A tremendous explosion shook the tower, and Mina leaned off the side dangerously to conjure another brace. When she crouched down, he merely stared into Anneliese’s face. She stayed quiet, intuiting from his expression that he was speaking to Elenore.

“Durran made Fellhorn retreat, but now his forces are heading toward the mountain range between Vasquer and the Burnt Desert. The gods mean to attack the Lionsun Castle at the same time. They’re already facing heavy assault from the north, where the castle is weakest. Jaray’s intent is to make you choose to defend one. He’s confident you’ll sacrifice Law.”

Argrave’s felt a strong natural compulsion immediately. He was of the opinion it generally wasn’t the best idea to do what the enemy wants or expects.

“Is it real?” Argrave asked Elenore. “Is Rook actually coming, or is it an attempt to lure?”

“It’s real,” Elenore confirmed. “Raven confirmed it.”

Argrave thought furiously, trying to see some way out of this. Anneliese put her hand on his shoulder, then behind his neck.

“Whatever it is, you can go,” Anneliese said. “I can handle things here.”

“What?!” Mina said in shock that quickly turned to desperation. “Argrave, please…! Nicky could really die out there.”

Argrave stared into Anneliese’s eyes, then asked, “You have a plan?”

“I do. And I can confidently say that an overwhelming victory is possible, even without you.” Anneliese looked at the goddess of magic, then conjured a ward with ease to block a coming attack. “She’s a tough opponent, but I’d win. I’m better. I know it.”

Mina moved closer. “Argrave, please. Don’t risk Nikoletta’s life. She’s all I… and she’s your cousin!”

Argrave studied Anneliese’s face, and she gave him a nod. With that, Argrave needed no more convincing.

“I’m going.” Argrave rose to his feet, and said to Mina sternly, “Listen to Anneliese. If she says she can win, she can win. She’ll demonstrate that Almazora’s godhood is no longer merited.”

“Argra—”

Before Mina could finish her protest, Argrave called upon another blood echo to transport himself. He arrived at the Lionsun Castle, and was at once buffeted by fierce winds. He was utterly alone on the castle walls, though some distant members of the garrison manned mounted weapons.

“Elenore,” he contacted her. “Give Law my direct order as leader of the Blackgard Union. Have him do what Erlebnis did when we fought at the Palace of Heaven. Have him recall all of his Justiciars to concentrate his power in his body, and have him kill Rook. That’s the only way he survives.”

“Can he win?” Elenore asked. “Erlebnis, the silver knight—he was present in those battles, yet he didn’t achieve much.”

“Rook has power, but no experience fighting with it. Law, on the other hand, has an abundance of experience. If he surprises Rook with concentrated power, I’m confident he can earn a quick and decisive victory.”

“…the Great Chu, and the small villages throughout Berendar, will be hardest hit,” Elenore responded in a moment. “His Justiciars are most prevalent there.”

“Jaray wouldn’t care about small villages, and the Great Chu has more gods than I can count. Galamon, Orion, and Emperor Ji Meng are also there—they’ll pull through. We might lose the battle entirely if Law dies, not to mention how much our alliance with the other deities will strain if he dies. We have a chance to make him infinitely stronger if he can kill Rook without significant injury.” Argrave rolled his shoulders looking at the enemy House Parbon faced on its northern front. “I’ll be defending the Lionsun Castle and the city it protects.”

Leaving those words with his sister, Argrave studied the force that’d formed to the north. Margrave Reinhardt’s banner flew high, and his army marched defiantly—the gods they faced were such that an army was sufficient to face them. Even still, it was clear the patriarch of House Parbon was on the backfoot, and the corpses of his knights lay everywhere. They were holding the enemy away from the city, and paying dearly to do so.

Argrave was prepared to use [Godkiller], but a shout interrupted him. “Your Majesty!”

He turned his head to see Elias sprinting at him, his breathing heavy. The red-haired heir to Parbon came to a stop.

“I’ll report, Your Majesty,” the young man said, wasting no time. “As far as we can discern, we face four gods—the deity of time, apparently newly-born, alongside the support of three others with dominion over assassination, berserkers, and marksmanship. Together, the three have formed a deadly squadron of servants both mortal and divine.”

“A deity of time?” Argrave repeated. “What can he do?”

“All enemies or projectiles that come near slow down based on their proximity, while his allies roam unhindered.” Elias walked to the edge. “Additionally, he can reverse injuries, somehow. My father’s reported that he’s killed the berserker god thrice with the new ability bestowed by Hause, yet somehow the time god resurrects him.”

Argrave made a mental note that the healer and debuffer should be targeted first, then remembered Elias was waiting for his command. “Thanks,” he said, then advised, “If you can, focus your spellcasters on the east. It’s likely the god of water will attack. If all goes well…” Argrave conjured his gilded black staff, holding it aloft. “I’ll be done long before then.”

Without further words, Argrave climbed the ramparts and jumped off the side of the wall. On the way down, he cast [Absolute Movement], and wind encircled him. He used the spell of flight to soar toward the coming battle and above the banners of the lions and the city of Parbon. This fight seemed simpler than the last—all the more reason for Argrave to be wary. Jaray was proving an extraordinarily capable foe.

#####

The past few hours, Elenore’s mind had felt as though it was always on the verge of collapse. Lira, her patron goddess, shared some of the burden of the mental connection. Even her help was barely sufficient to receive and process so many different reports from all around the world. There were two reports that came in near the same time, both equally concerning.

The first concern came from Relize.

“We’ve an army of centaurs gathering not far from Relize,” the reporter said, fear in his tone. “There must be ten thousand of them, or… or perhaps twice that. They’re bigger than the damned city!”

The second came from Raven, and he never reported to her without good reason.

“I’ve spotted seven liches approaching Dirracha. In terms of magic prowess…” There was a long period of silence. “…I cannot judge any of them individually to be my inferior, either in the abundance of their magic supply or the quantity of spirits they possess for use in shamanic magic.”

Two entirely unforeseen parties appeared suddenly enough to make Elenore’s teeth clench for the coming blow. The situation in both Relize and Dirracha was barely at a stalemate. If an army of centaurs or seven liches equal in magical might to Raven were to join either battle, Elenore foresaw only destruction.

This was but the first battle of their long war—they couldn’t afford catastrophic losses.

Chapter 27

Argrave had been wise in his instinct to be wary of this coming confrontation.

Argrave had joined Margrave Reinhardt’s force from on high. When he did, he could feel the distortion of time—the enemies all grew faster, while Argrave felt as though every movement was like trying to swim up the river. It had been easily remedied, fortunately. Any blood magic he cast would eat away at the divinity. He searched Erlebnis’ wiki to find a suitable spell, and found one created by a spellcasting sailor: [Tailwind]. The continuous yet relatively weak wind spell had been designed to push sails, but now Argrave infused it with blood magic and put it at the back of House Parbon’s army, breaking the fragile hold of the warped time over them all.

With that immediate concern addressed, he joined Margrave Reinhardt on the field.

Upon arriving above them all, Argrave grandly made countless divine servants perish with devastating volleys of blood magic. Droves of elites perished beneath his fire, and the margrave’s knights were granted reprieve from the relentless onslaught. Argrave thought he might’ve overestimated this force, until he saw familiar figures rise up, uninjured.

And worse yet… he received no return of essence for their deaths.

He was glad he’d learned this through relatively inexpensive magic. Without Elias’ report, he would’ve used [Godkiller] in an attempt to hunt down one of the leaders of the opposition. It would’ve worked—but the god of time would’ve resurrected the fallen deity, and the only result would’ve been a tremendous expenditure of power without any gain. Somehow, this new god had the power to hold together the fleeting spirits after a god’s death, and create them anew.

The obvious solution, then, was to kill their lynchpin. Facing three formidable forces—elite marksmen, expert assassins, and veteran berserkers—he wasn’t confident in simply bulldozing through the enemy. Still, if this god of time could so ably counter Argrave’s ability, why had he not been given a more prominent role? If he’d been able to provide the same treatment to that god of insects, Argrave couldn’t promise he’d have achieved victory at all.

There had to be a flaw in this formation. He intended to find it. With so many fronts strained, however, time was on the enemy’s side…

#####

Anneliese had assessed the situation objectively, compared it to her own abilities and the forces she had on hand, and came to the conclusion that she could defeat Almazora. Now that Argrave had trusted her capability and left her to the task, some amount of trepidation crept in. Her opponent was still the goddess of magic, and she was supported by the not-insignificant presence of the god of pain. The fact that Almazora had kept her godhood for several cycles of judgment meant she could at least defend the title against other gods. She couldn’t be underestimated as on opponent.

On top of her present enemy, the fact remained that Jaray had painted a target on her back.

This was a risk she didn’t like taking… but nevertheless, Anneliese felt she had to if they hoped to win. Mina had been indignant when Argrave left, but she had become mature enough to accept reality instead of raging against it.  Now, Anneliese only hoped that she could demonstrate the same trust for the next order she was to give.

“Mina, I’m going to order Nikoletta’s force to stop retreating and counterattack.”

The small blonde woman said nothing, but Anneliese could see the emotions written on her face: horror, anger, betrayal. Mina’s whole world was falling down. She thought Anneliese was sending the only person she truly cared about to an early grave.

“If she continues to retreat, she’ll be caught in the valley between Jast and Dirracha,” Anneliese said, appealing to logic.

Still, Mina only stared, terrified and hurt.

Anneliese took a deep breath, staring into the woman’s soul as she searched for ways to persuade her. “Argrave trusted me to fight this opponent and prevail,” Anneliese said—simple, cutting words, drawing parallels to their two situations. “You need to trust Nikoletta to do the same. Love is trust itself, and I trust Argrave would not leave me here without believing in me. Nikoletta faces the god of pain—and she’s capable of shouldering more pain than you know. She could lose everything, and still keep walking.” Anneliese walked to the edge of the tower, conjuring the sheer white staff crafted out of Veid’s heart. “So, wipe that look off your face and help your Nicky kill her first god. Is she so fragile as to let a little pain break her?”

Leaving those words behind, Anneliese jumped off the tower, descending toward Almazora’s position. She didn’t spare another look back, trusting in her words to do the trick as she contacted Elenore. She gave the report to Elenore, and soon enough expected Nikoletta’s forces to cease their retreat.

This battle wouldn’t be without sacrifices, but few enough were. At the end of the day, Anneliese knew they’d come home victors.

At the top of the tower, Mina watched Anneliese’s descent with trembling eyes… but they slowed their tremors until they were still, and Mina let out a calming exhale. Then, she dedicated all of her attention to the battle, waiting for Anneliese’s next order. There was confidence in her eyes, now—not self-confidence, but the confidence that came with knowing someone reliable had her back.

#####

Elenore received scattered reports from the two fights closest on her mind—Anneliese and Argrave’s fight. She had never intended to expose them to excessive risk. Anneliese, especially, needed to be protected. She was capable of fleeing competently should the situation devolve, yet jeopardizing herself so much… her death might mean true defeat, in both the battle and the war. Only Argrave’s confidence in her after having seen the situation stayed Elenore from countermanding his order.

Worse yet, Elenore had no one to send to confront the new forces near Relize and Dirracha. Seven liches moved ever closer to the capital, while the centaurs appeared to grow in numbers every second. The centaurs simply walked out of the sea—it sounded like an impossibility, yet it was the apparent truth. They followed the banner of the centaur god that Argrave had dealt with in the Bloodwoods. Losing the two cities would mean losing the second and third largest settlements in Vasquer… yet Elenore didn’t see any way to save them until situations elsewhere were resolved.

“Argrave and Reinhardt have worked out a plan,” one of her contacts reported. “It promises to be slow, but surefire. It’s underway.”

“Anneliese has engaged Almazora in a direct fight,” came another report. “She’s intending for Mina to prepare an ambush force to overwhelm and rout both gods at once, but it’ll take time.”

Time, stalemate, evenly-matched—common words, while Lorena reported Fellhorn snaking his way across the ocean toward the Lionsun Castle, the seven liches moving ever closer to the already-beleaguered Dirracha, and the horde of centaurs beginning their march toward the trade city of Relize. Even Law, who Argrave had hoped would utterly overwhelm Rook, wasn’t earning as decisive a victory as they’d hoped. He was still winning, yet not fast enough.

Everywhere was pressed. The dwarven city of Mundi, still under heavy assault from select deities resistant to the heat and pressure of the deep, was slowly being filled with lava from countless breaches in its dome. The forces in the Great Chu fought an enemy that came without an end, and faced treachery similar to that of Rook and Almazora. The only consolation was Emperor Ji Meng’s surprisingly steadfast loyalty. 

No matter which angle she looked at it from, Elenore had played every piece at her disposal. It felt like a complex knot, tied unto itself so many times that the only recourse was to laboriously untangle it… unless she were to simply cut the rope with a sharp knife, and let millions perish for an easy victory. In years past, Elenore would’ve. Now, Argrave had burdened her with some small modicum of faith.

Because with Argrave… faith was often rewarded.

#####

Mina finally saw the signal she’d been waiting for—a blue fireball cast upward, and the sign to begin her ambush. She raised her hand to the sky, using the whole of her magic to create one last grand illusion. High in the sky, an image that’d been seared into her head manifested—Tower Master Castro’s gray wyvern. Hause’s power birthed the construct into reality. It roared mightily, then soared downward toward the god of pain and his divine servants like an embodiment of her hatred. On the ground, similarly haunting specters broke from cover, rushing toward the god’s forces—that of the Veidimen, which she remembered invading Mateth all too well.

And down below…

Anneliese stood perhaps thirty feet from the goddess of magic herself. This had been the most intense duel of her life—but to call it a duel was perhaps insulting. It was actually a desperate struggle to survive. Almazora was her superior in countless ways. She could cast magic faster, possessed a wider repertoire of spells, and far outclassed Anneliese in absorbing magic. The thing that had kept Anneliese alive was the connection to Argrave providing a source of vitality for wounds taken, Anneliese’s superior battle sense, and use of the shamanic spell [Requite]. That spell could reflect the many thousands of spells sent at her—and because Almazora was not a mortal, she could not use shamanic magic.

But of all those factors, the battle sense was the reason Anneliese had won from the very first exchange.

Every burn, cut, shock, or dire injury she’d received exchanging spells with Almazora had been a victory. She had seen Almazora fight. She fought as spellcasters do—from safety, maintaining the option to retreat at any moment. She was no strategist, no commander. She was meant to support a force by bombardment, not engage in active battle. By fighting Anneliese at all, her power was focused away from where it ought to be… and because of that, she’d been losing every second.

Anneliese didn’t miss the moment victory had come. Mina’s conjured wyvern tore into the forces of the god of pain. The second it did, Anneliese fell back, teleporting back to the walls of Jast. She drew the blade out of the staff forged of Veid’s heart. In that moment, she could feel Veid’s heart grip all in her sight, shattering any notion of retreat.

Faced with such a strong push, it was natural for the god of pain to try and fall back. Faced with an unexpected element, Almazora was also bound to falter. Until they realized that the option had been taken off the table, they were lambs for the slaughter.

Anneliese took a deep breath, preparing for the chaos as she prepared to eliminate the enemy.

#####

“Rook is dead. Law is killing what remains of his allies.”

That report, coming suddenly and unexpectedly, was perhaps the sweetest one that Elenore had gotten. Her mind felt those dark clouds of headache blown away by a healing wind. She readied herself to issue orders to the now-free ancient god, before another report came in.

“Nikoletta received an injury to the head from the god of pain—it refuses to heal, according to attending spellcasters, but it’s nonfatal. She’s lost an eye, but the deity perished. Almazora is surrounded on all sides, and is desperately strained.”

Elenore straightened her back, sharing a happy glance with the old Lira. The moment news came of Almazora’s demise, she was prepared to send Anneliese to Dirracha—if anyone could beat seven liches at once, it was her.

“From Relize…” came a tired voice, and she felt some of her excitement strain. “The centaurs… they’re… allies, ma’am. They’re firing upon the gargantuan sea creatures on the docks. I…” The report trailed off, its sender in disbelief.

Elenore was similarly stunned. With no word from Lorena as to their intent, and no contact with the centaurs before this moment, she’d assumed they were enemies. But… this? To have a friendly force join the battle, at one of its most pivotal moments? Her head went light and her vision white as relief blew away the black clouds of despair.

“The situation in Dirracha has improved,” came another report. “Some spellcasters have joined the battle. Thank you, Princess Elenore. Thank you,” came a relieved voice.

Elenore couldn’t help but exhale and inhale quickly, venting a thousand emotions as it seemed everything came together, all at once. She slammed her palms upon her desk, rising to her feet as she prepared to issue countless different commands.

#####

“Jaray? Jaray!” Ail physically shook the god of politics.

“I’m thinking,” he said calmly.

“Thinking? We need to act!” Ail slammed the back of his hand against his palm. “Action!”

Jaray closed his eyes. Beneath his lids, his eyes moved about rapidly as his thoughts raced. Finally, there was a snapping noise. He opened his eyes, looking at his hand. There, his wooden pipe had snapped in two beneath his grip. He took a deep breath, and stepped away from the map.

“I’ll go myself.” Jaray reached into his coat. “I’ll take the field.”

“Alright. Good.” Ail breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’ll tell everyone. That should stop an all-out retreat. Where will you go?”

“Where Argrave is,” he said, pulling free a second box. He retrieved a brand-new pipe. “Come along. I still need you to coordinate messages and information.”

Chapter 28

Though Argrave searched very hard for a clever solution to the god of time’s influence, he could find nothing. Neither the records of the past contained in Erlebnis’ wiki nor the happenings of the present gave any indication about how they might cripple the power of time. In the end, Argrave turned to Margrave Reinhardt’s force for aid. He requested the margrave punch a hole large enough in their forces to allow Argrave to strike at the god of time without risk of dying himself. Reinhardt, who’d ever been a loyal servant, agreed, despite the heavy toll it’d undoubtedly take on attacking forces.

His force of knights, partially supported by a few lesser gods, plunged back into battle against the terrifying force of assassins and berserkers as archers of all stripes bore down on them relentlessly. Argrave provided the same support several other spellcasters were, warding away the marksmen as best he could. It frustrated him immeasurably to be so unable to employ his power. The fight was dreadfully slow, and the whole while Argrave could only think of the clock ticking down on various other segments of the battlefield.

In the end, though, Reinhardt made good on his promise to provide an opportunity to attack. Seizing on it, Argrave pressed toward the center of their formation, fighting back the small few assassins and berserkers Reinhardt hadn’t distracted with the overwhelming power of his blood magic alone. Had he and Anneliese not built up reserves of vitality before this day, this would’ve been impossible. What he found was not at all like he expected. After eviscerating the countless guards with little more than a wave of his hand and a devastating pulse of blood magic, he found the source—a coffin. He threw it open to strike at the god of time.

This god, so high and mighty, was unconscious, pierced in a thousand different places by bizarre black needles. The needles pulsed in and out of his body, rejected in one moment and then forced back in the second. The deity frothed at the mouth and spasmed, clearly in agony. Looking around, Argrave could see that his healing roughly coincided with the needles. His divinity and its effects seemed to be manifesting by instinct rather than choice. It was a barbaric sight, but nothing that he wasn’t used to.

It did, however, suggest that this god of time wasn’t a willing participant.

Under different circumstances, Argrave might’ve tried to save this man and win another ally. With the margrave’s men dying all around, however, Argrave callously conjured a blade of his black blood and jammed it into the man lying in the coffin. It passed through easy, cutting him in twain moments before his body burst into spirits. Argrave finally felt new vitality, absent for so long, restored in bulk.

Finally freed of previous restrictions, Argrave rose into the air with the spell of flight [Absolute Movement] and began what he’d intended to do here in the first place. Spells composed of his black blood rained upon the enemy, and the margrave prudently disengaged as had been discussed long in advance. Every area that they fled from soon became destruction incarnate. The damage that Argrave had once caused using the Blessing of Supersession couldn’t even be compared to what he was capable of now.

Dark red lightning struck from storm clouds of fire that swept across the plains of the margravate, blown and twisted by malevolent winds that allowed no escape. The enemy hadn’t been a true threat to him before, but now that he could fight without worry of draining his and Anneliese’s shared vitality, he made that fact known. Argrave only stopped when he felt no more vitality coming from their demises—after all, that meant that nothing was alive. The trampled grass field they’d been fighting on moments before looked like nothing more than a spent fire—coals and hot embers alone. Even the corpses of the margrave’s knights had been reduced to nothing. He pitied their families, but he couldn’t afford to act on that pity.

This battle was over, but others remained. Though things had seemed to pass by in a moment, Argrave knew that he’d been stuck here quite a long while. He looked back at the Lionsun Castle, only to widen his eyes at the huge curtain of water bearing down upon it. The eastern mountains had been entirely buried beneath a wave of water that crawled forth like a slug—and just looking at it, Argrave could tell it’d be more than enough to flood the entire city of Parbon. The people knew it, too—they fled in droves, both from the castle and the city. He didn’t know how Durran had fought against this, but then his people had more experience against Fellhorn and his Vessels.

Argrave soared through the air, [Absolute Movement] still active. As he did, the water’s sluglike movements slowed before stopping altogether. Like invisible strings had been cut, gravity started to act upon the water again. It collapsed down upon the mountain, and with the help of the gods shepherding the water, entire peaks broke off. The mountain began cascading down in a devastatingly loud and horrifying landslide.

In one moment, Argrave could see the Lionsun Castle in a valley, standing tall above the city. In only a few moments after, city and castle both were buried beneath clouds of dust, rubble, and water. Thousands of people who only had time enough to leave their homes witnessed everything they owned buried in less than a minute.

But for all that managed to evacuate, just as many likely didn’t have time enough.

Argrave saw Reinhardt storming ahead with all of his knights as if he could fight the landslide, while he himself came to an uneasy stop above the now-empty plains of the margravate. Elias, his sister Rose, his wife Ridia… Argrave couldn’t say if any had made it out. He’d given Elias warning. Perhaps the man had led the evacuation efforts.

Argrave tried to shake all the thoughts away, focusing instead on the gods who’d orchestrated this attack. Before he could…

“Argrave,” said Elenore. “Jaray is behind you.”

He whipped his head around, shocked to see that was the truth of the matter. He sat on a disturbed rock in the midst of the carnage that Argrave had caused with his magic, sitting and smoking while looking up at Argrave.

“Law’s won,” Elenore continued. “We’re winning. Anneliese destroyed Almazora, and some unexpected allies have joined us. Durran’s going to hunt down Fellhorn with Stout Heart Swan. Despite all of that, Jaray is here. Lorena says she’s never seen him fight, not even once. I think that’s cause for caution.”

“I’ll be careful,” Argrave promised as he landed on the ground, ceasing [Absolute Movement].

Argrave prepared blood-imbued [Wind Eels] as he walked forward, positioning them in the air both for offense and defense, if need be. He called out, “If the god of politics is here, can I expect some kind of offer?”

“You’re winning, by all appearances,” Jaray answered. “Why would you come to the negotiation table? Besides, both of us have gone beyond the point of no return. You just saw a city buried. I doubt you’re in the mood.”

Proving his point, Argrave quickly cast a lightning spell to probe his foe. It struck Jaray’s shoulder, and he jerked back slightly. Beyond that… nothing. Argrave felt nothing at all.

“Awfully cautious of me.” Jaray brushed off his struck shoulder. “Lorena’s likely told you that she’s never seen me fight. There’s a very good reason for that, and it’s the only reason I came here. The fact is, I’ve never been in a fight. Not when I was a mortal, and not once when I became divine.”

To verify his results, Argrave struck again with another lightning bolt. It hit Jaray right in the eye. Though his head did jolt back slightly, Argrave once again felt no vitality flowing through him and saw no change from Jaray.

“When I was mortal, I didn’t fight by choice. I found it all rather beneath me. It was a lot easier to talk other people into doing the things I needed than to do them myself. Bring people together, give them both what they need by connecting them to help each other, and then they both want to help you.” Jaray blew smoke. “It always amazed me what people would pay for convenience. In gold… or blood.”

Argrave bridged the gap, grabbing a sword discarded on the ground. He raised it high and swung it at Jaray’s head. The thing bounced back, shaking from the force of his powerful blow… but not a hair on Jaray’s body was harmed.

“Now, it’s not my choice whether or not I fight.” Jaray looked up at Argrave. “I can’t act upon the world, nor can it act upon me. This is the way I like it. I think we’d both agree that my influence hasn’t waned.”

Argrave tried to grab his throat and choke him, but Jaray merely pulled away slightly, and his neck was free. He rose off the rock he sat upon. Argrave tried to wrap his arms around the god, only to find himself repelled by something incomprehensible. Even a blast of pure blood magic shattered upon contact with Jaray’s body.

Argrave flinched as the sky split in the wake of what seemed like a comet. In less than half a second Lorena was above them all as a great dragon. Her gigantic tail slammed down upon Jaray. His head bent slightly beneath the weight, while the ground all around him cracked from the force… but again, nothing happened.

“Is this what they gave you?!” Lorena shouted, shifting to human form. She landed just beside him, towering above.

“Lorena,” he greeted amicably. “No, the Heralds didn’t give me this. I’ve always had it.” He looked back to Argrave. “Shall we talk, king, about where things go from here?”

“This is just a cheap trick,” Argrave pointed out. “It doesn’t change anything. You’ll vanish alongside all the other gods once we’re done. And I don’t have time for this.”

Argrave made to leave, but Jaray said, “Shall I speak to your sister, instead? I can head to Blackgard. It’d be nice to visit in-person. The third alternative, well…” Jaray smoked from his pipe again, blowing an O. “There’s no need to show you all my cards, but you should know my hand is still relatively full. And you still have cities upon cities to protect… or lose.”

Chapter 29

Argrave turned his head back to Fellhorn’s assault. There, he witnessed three converging forces assail the retreating god of water and those he’d brought as auxiliary forces. Durran and his patron, Stout Heart Swan, valiantly battled the exposed deity. From behind, the god of space Raccomen brought in a wave of soldiers that marched across the mountains—Justiciars, freshly reborn after Law’s victory over Rook. There was nothing more for him to do, he was certain—Fellhorn was soon to fall.

With that established, Argrave turned back to Jaray. “So… you can’t hurt us, but we can’t hurt you? That’s the short of it?”

“Just so,” Jaray confirmed. “If you need more verification, the both of you, I’m standing right here.” He looked between them. “No? Then… let’s work something out.”

Argrave walked up to stand over him. “You’re insane if you think I’ll agree to any sort of armistice, any peace. Give you time to regroup? Give you time to marshal more forces? Nonsense. We work this out here, today. And as you’ve pointed out, I’m winning.” He waved. “Lorena—get back to the moon. We need eyes everywhere, in case this is just a distraction.”

Lorena shifted on her feet briefly, but she did heed his word. She began running, shifting her body into her draconic form before lifting into the air. With two powerful beats of her wings, she sped away with ridiculous speed, just as she’d come.

“I said that you’re winning… by all appearances,” Jaray clarified.

“The Shadowlanders? The Hopeful?” Argrave shook his head. “We’ve got plans. Listen… take your little under-the-table deal, crush it into a ball, and shove it down your throat. I don’t care if none of us can hurt you—somehow, you’ll die. This is going to end so poorly you’ll kill yourself before any of us have the chance.”

Jaray laughed. “That’s your plan? Sadden me until I quit voluntarily?”

“There’s a reason you’re here, now, only after I killed your damn vanguard.” Argrave looked around. “And it’s not because we’re on our last legs. It’s because you want to rattle us, have us make mistakes, have us act against our best interests. I know your playbook. I use it often myself. The difference between me and you, though, is that I’m fine getting my hands dirty because I believe what I preach.”

“Which friends would you like to say goodbye to? Which cities would you like to rebuild? Mateth? Relize? The whole of the Bloodwoods, perhaps?” Jaray pressed.

“As many as it takes,” Argrave said, then departed, carried away by teleportation to his blood echo back to Blackgard.

Once he’d arrived, he walked over to Elenore’s desk in a storm. “Where’s Sophia?”

“Sophia? What?” Elenore looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

“Jaray is the lynchpin to their entire operation,” Argrave walked around the room, feeling energized. “I’m going to ask her if she wants to help. And if she does… I’ll see if she can’t recreate Jaray to be vulnerable. I know that bluster—I’ve employed it myself. Jaray is about to bring forth a last-ditch effort. I’d like to cut him in two before he has the chance.”

“And what if that’s what he wants you to do?” Elenore rose to her feet. “What if that’s precisely the move that he’d hoped you’d make? Sophia is safest here, in Blackgard. After the silver knight came through, we’ve redoubled the defenses—even an ancient god like Law couldn’t break through the mountains. We shouldn’t jeopardize that, ever!” She insisted.

“The alternative is waiting for him to keep heaping on disasters, calling in favors, until millions more died than already have,” Argrave pointed out calmly. “After I talk to Sophia, call back everyone—everyone—that you’ve been using as a strike force. They’ll come with me to confront Jaray.”

“You could be playing right into his hands.” Elenore walked around the table. “There has to be another way. Send out Raven to probe him, or… or Anneliese. Not Sophia. She’s only weeks away from reaching ten! She’s not ready for a battlefield.”

“Maybe sending Raven or Anneliese would work.” Argrave nodded, closing his eyes. “Maybe. But I know this will work. And I know that Sophia would want to help the people, struggling out there even now.”

“Damn it all, Argrave…” Elenore put her hands to her head, clutching the roots of her hair. Finally, she looked up, gray eyes resolute. “Hause’s temple. She’s there.”

“She’ll be fine. I’ll be sure of that,” Argrave promised his sister. “And if you’ve doubts about my abilities, use those connections of yours to eliminate said doubts.”

#####

Argrave walked down the heavily-guarded corridor leading to Sophia’s room, listening to Elenore all the while.

“I can have a lot of hardened hands at the battlefield,” Elenore said. “But hardened things won’t mean a damn thing against a trick. We don’t know Jaray’s ability. Reconsider. Please.”

Hearing his sister’s earnest plea, Argrave did waver… but he knew that, despite the risks, this was worth doing. If Jaray could die, the threat of the Heralds would be ended forevermore. Sophia was the only surefire way he saw of eliminating the god of politics. Their sole advocate still on this planet would cease to be, and the only one remaining would be lurking in the Shadowlands—that is, if the Hopeful wasn’t shortly to make his appearance.

Before Gerechtigkeit came, Jaray’s poison had to be uprooted. Millions of people were at stake.

“Focus on thinking of ways to keep Sophia safe,” he told Elenore. “This ends today. Not tomorrow, not a week from now.”

With that, Argrave stood at the stone door leading to Sophia’s room. He took a deep breath, gathering himself, then pushed it open. Sophia sat at her bed, and lifted her head up when he opened the door. Her eyes hardened, and she got off the bed. She wore plain beige clothes well-suited for travelling—clothes she’d often worn when she’d travelled the countryside healing the injured.

“I’m ready,” Sophia said, staring up at him with resolute red eyes.

“What?” Argrave paused at the door.

“I heard what’s happening,” Sophia said, walking forward. “So I got dressed. My brother’s here, isn’t he? He’s… he’s hurting people? He’s coming for me? I want to help.”

“Sophia…” Argrave walked to her bed, sitting down. “It’s not your brother. But… yes, you’re right. That is why I came. There’s an awful person outside the city—someone that I might not be able to beat back on my own.”

Argrave lowered his head in shame, embarrassed to be putting this immense burden on a nine-year-old.

“I can do it,” Sophia said proudly. “I can help.”

“It’s not that simple, Sophia.” He looked at her. “It won’t be without risk. If things go wrong… if I make one too many mistakes… you could be taken.” He stared into her red eyes. “At worst… it could become like it was before. Sandelabara. Good King Norman. All of it, back the way it was.”

Sophia looked down. “Are people dying?”

“They are,” he admitted.

“Lots of people?”

“Yes.” Argrave nodded.

Sophia looked up at him. “I… I’m not scared of places without windows anymore. So… so even if I do go back… I won’t be scared. And you told me to treat others like I’d want to be treated.”

Argrave closed his eyes, nodding with bitter pride that choked his throat. Part of him wished that Sophia would express hesitance, any reluctance at all. If she did, he’d leave in a heartbeat. But she didn’t. He was equal parts proud and terrified.

“I’m sorry, Sophia. That so much has to be asked of you. That you can’t have…” He looked at her. “That you can’t have what you deserve.”

“I have you,” she said quietly.

“That you do. And you always will, Sophia.” Argrave felt a tempest disturb his innards, and rose to his feet with a clear head. “You know what? Forget what I said.” He knelt down and picked her up. “Nothing’s going to happen. You want to know why? Because me, your mother, your uncle—all your family, and all our friends—we’ll be there. And there’s not a chance in hell that we’re losing to some empty suit who’s never been in a fight once in his life. I’d never live that down.”

He started walking down the hall, Sophia in his arms.

“We’re going to beat the bad guys, and then you’re going to brag about your dad to all the other kids,” Argrave continued. “We’ll all live happily ever after, fishing by a lake, reading bedtime stories, whatever you can think of. I can promise you that much.”

Sophia could have what she deserved. And Argrave intended to give it to her. He could protect his daughter.

Chapter 30

Elenore had never been more on edge than upon Argrave’s declaration that he would leave Blackgard with Sophia in tow. Her number one concern was that he was falling for a manipulation of some kind from the god of politics—one that made him act against his best interests. But both Anneliese and Raven had seen the man, and claimed that he possessed no such power. But perhaps he’d manipulated them, too.

The only thing that gave her comfort was the logical assertion that if he truly did possess such an absolute persuasive power, he wouldn’t need to go to such lengths to draw them out. Jaray would’ve won long ago.

Still, she held nothing back, fully heeding Argrave’s advice to plug every insufficiency she thought he had. Law was recalled to where Jaray waited patiently, and he’d created a great Domain of Law to prepare for whatever was coming. After having slain Rook—himself a formidable god, and the inheritor of the bulk of Erlebnis’ spirits—Law was undoubtedly the most powerful deity in the world. His powers, consequently, amplified the strength of their allies to a ridiculous degree. Adding on to that, the allies themselves were ridiculously powerful already.

Raven. Anneliese. Durran. All three on their own were forces powerful enough to rival absurd gods like Almazora or Fellhorn—and they’d proven that point. Anneliese had completely destroyed the goddess of magic, taking in all her spirits as her own, and Durran had beaten Fellhorn back not once, but twice, finally landing the killing blow as he attempted to retreat from the mountains above Parbon. She was proud of the man she’d married, but wished he’d be more careful.

More than that, other strikers they’d been employing elsewhere had been freed up. Onychinusa had returned from the Bloodwoods, bringing along with her many of its potent spellcasters. Raccomen, god of space, had wavered upon news of Rook’s betrayal, but ultimately stuck at their side. Stout Heart Swan, goddess of hunting and Durran’s patron, had come along as well. Given the number of betrayals, Elenore was cautious about them, employing them on periphery tasks that’d never give them the opportunity to interfere with Sophia.

The situation elsewhere wasn’t entirely resolved. Battles in many places were fading, their fighting resulting in a complete victory. However, the goddess of earth that Jaray had contacted hadn’t come to assist him in the coming fight—instead, she’d turned her rage against the Great Chu. In the resulting mayhem that occurred as the ground itself split before her awful power, Elenore lost contact with several people that she’d been connected to there. The only ones that persisted in giving reports were Galamon and Orion, who constantly told her only one thing; the enemies keep coming, and they keep killing them. The two champions were remarkably consistent in that regard.

If the situation were different, Elenore might send more bodies to resolve the problems in the Great Chu… but right now, Sophia demanded the most urgent attention. Argrave carried her in his arms, having teleported a good distance only to walk the remainder as everyone else surveyed the scene to make sure that nothing was out of sorts. In the brief time that she had to prepare, Elenore felt she had as complete a grasp of the situation that she ever had.

Elenore expected a few things—the first, for Jaray to open a rift to the Shadowlands. It certainly wasn’t unfeasible. Lorena hadn’t detected any moves he’d made toward that end, but if the Hopeful was also waiting, this would certainly be his time to enter. The second was interference from other gods, who’d come in at the last second. Perhaps Jaray was lying about possessing no ability to fight back, or perhaps he had a means to communicate that was beyond Lorena’s scrutiny. Either seemed possible, almost likely. Jaray was an entirely unknown variable.

The third—and frankly, this was the thing that she most wished to be true—was that Jaray had pulled out yet another case of misdirection, and intended to attack somewhere else entirely. Perhaps Elenore herself was the target. If that was the case, Blackgard remained a fortress without peer. They had harvested the vast bulk of the magic buried into the black stone to create potent defenses that Law, even in his present state, couldn’t break past. They’d emulated the defensive capabilities of the Palace of Heaven’s walls, and the sky was protected by an array of shamanic magic warding divinity. Furthermore, they’d reverse-engineered the wards on the flagship of the Great Chu to have a constant ward on hand to protect from any sort of bombardment.

Their preparations were excessive. Still, Jaray alone had claimed many more lives than all before him. Cities had fallen, prominent figures were either slain or had sacrificed themselves, and the god of politics himself boasted some strange manner of invulnerability in the face of all that. If anyone were going to surprise them, it would be him.

Elenore waited for news with bated breath.

#####

“Is that him?” asked Sophia as Argrave carefully walked across the war-torn fields.

“Yeah. Jaray,” Argrave answered, not relaxing his vigilance for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“He killed all these people?” She asked—something a nine-year-old shouldn’t see, let alone comment on.

“Not himself,” Argrave answered back, glancing at a few of the margrave’s men scattered about the field as he walked. “But he’s responsible for all of it. He convinced people to do it. That’s his thing, you see. He can’t hurt anyone himself, but he also can’t be hurt by anyone. So he shares secrets, gives other people reasons, and preys on people’s insecurities and vanities until they end up fighting for the wrong causes.”

“I don’t know what some of that meant,” Sophia confessed. “But… I think… I think I know what you mean. There were people that never hit me, but they told the people that would hit me the bad things I’d done when they weren’t around. They told them all the mistakes I’d made. And Norman would—"

“Well, that’s over now.” Argrave held her a little tighter. “Come on.”

Argrave was soon joined by Anneliese, who gave some words of comfort to Sophia before joining their solemn walk to condemn Jaray. It felt as though they were walking to an execution—only, the headsman’s axe was a child. It was a barbaric display, but this was what the cycle of judgment had made out of them. Animals, employing every necessity.

In time, a great many of the people Argrave trusted most parted ways for his advance. All made way for the king, queen, and their daughter. Jaray sat there, as calm and composed as ever, as he smoked upon his pipe.

“You’re back,” he greeted. “Hello, Sophia.” He looked at Argrave squarely. “I’d almost believe she’s your daughter. There is some resemblance, but the eyes tell the truth of the matter.”

“Be quiet,” Sophia said loudly—the harshest words she could muster. “You made people die. I need to stop that.”

“They died seeking you. Coming after you. Who can say the blame—" Jaray began.

“She isn’t to blame for the choices that you made,” Anneliese fired back, anger on her tone. “You’re the cause of all this.”

“I give people what they want,” Jaray said. “I—”

“Sophia, if you can, I want you to remake him into an ordinary person,” Argrave said to her, interrupting him once more. “And then… we’ll go home.”

“You will go home,” Jaray cut in, rising to his feet finally. Everyone around braced, prepared to fight back against something. “And you’re also right on your other point—I will be remade, even if I fall here today. Death is a temporary measure in the face of the power of creation. I’ll keep living because I deal with everyone, Argrave. I would’ve dealt fairly with you if only you’d listened, but you removed one party from the negotiation table and refused to negotiate yourself. The natural course, then, is to consult the only other still left.”

“The Shadowlanders, yes. Dead gods that eat everything in sight.”

“I was up there, not far from the suns with you,” Jaray continued, pointing his pipe. “I couldn’t speak with them. But there was another, wasn’t—”

As Argrave watched, Jaray’s flesh began to morph and twist. At first Argrave feared some assault of some kind, and shielded Sophia with his body. Then, however, Sophia clutched his coat, burying her head.

“I did it,” she said. “He’s… he’s like everyone else, now.”

Raven slammed his staff down mightily, and in the following gruesome explosion, was glad he’d shielded Sophia. Her eyes were spared the sight of someone being shattered. She flinched and clutched him tighter, but Argrave sorely hoped she’d seen nothing. Argrave stared at Jaray’s pipe—shattered in two, while he was in several more pieces than that. Was this some trick? Was he like Sataistador—was that merely one of his many bodies?

“Argrave…” Anneliese grabbed his shoulder, and when he looked at her, her eyes were trembling. “Before you conversed with the suns…”

His mind followed the track hers did, revisiting that monumental encounter he’d had moments before speaking to the Heralds and Jaray in tandem. Moments later, revisiting it became entirely unnecessary.

Argrave felt a presence behind him, and so did everyone else—they whipped their heads north, where he at once saw a familiar scene. It existed north of the city of Elbraille, above the towers of Jast, just barely visible beyond the horizon… a crack in the world, right in the place that Argrave had seen it half a thousand times in Heroes of Berendar. He didn’t need to tell his companions what it was, because he’d told them enough for all to understand what was happening.

The world was opening, and the calamity was here.

Chapter 31

Argrave began to piece together his foe’s plans all at once only after he saw the fruit of his labor. Jaray hadn’t been betting on being able to rely on the Shadowlanders or any deities of the world. From the beginning, he hadn’t even intended to live their encounter if Argrave had indeed brought Sophia. He’d predicted his own death—and presumably, part of his deal with Gerechtigkeit was being resurrected by the power of Sophia’s creation. He went to his grave with total confidence he would soon crawl out of it, reborn… and even if Argrave proved otherwise, the god of politics wouldn’t exactly be around to despair at that fact.

Argrave had to admit that Jaray’s gambit had worked.

“Is this it?” Anneliese asked Argrave as all others around stared in frightful awe. “Is it happening?”

“Yes,” Argrave answered her, his words strangely calm as he set Sophia down on the ground. “It’s happening. Gerechtigkeit is here.”

The sky had an ever-widening black gash across its surface. It transcended everything, taking precedence before any other form of existence. Even if one were on the opposite side of the planet, they’d be able to see this wound as clear as day. It bypassed walls, floors, and any state of being to imprint itself on every living being’s sight. Even the blind could see it. The other senses were not spared this omnipresence.

Argrave could smell rot creeping into his nose, like they’d breached into a well of bloated corpses. He could barely hear guttural howls growing louder by the second, threatening to drown out the sound of the wind. He could faintly taste a tangy salt in his mouth, like he’d bitten his tongue and now tasted his own blood. And above all, there was a dreadful presence. It was like the feeling moments before a blow landed, or the instances before hitting the ground after jumping from a high place.

Argrave felt dread encapsulated. Just as his lungs drew in air, or his heart beat… instinctually, Argrave’s entire being feared what emerged from that wound.

Gerechtigkeit—of yet in embryonic form—poured down like black mud from the wound in the sky. Yellow eyes, glistening like beads of oil, danced on the surface of this ugly liquid. They scouted millions of victims for their coming onslaught. Each eye was a mind unto itself, though each with the purpose of serving Gerechtigkeit. They were both his servants and himself all at once. Before he fully manifested on this plane, those eyes would be his army. They were formless golems made of spite and destruction. Argrave had never before seen them so numerous, nor so large, at the very beginning of things. That black liquid would, in time, coalesce into the cosmic horror that was Gerechtigkeit… but even like this, its power couldn’t be underestimated.

“He’s here before his time,” Raven said, stepping ahead of Argrave. His flesh wavered in between his human form and that of the Alchemist. Even his ancient mind seemed stunned, wavering with indecision. “We’re unprepared.”

“Argrave, what the hell is this?!” Durran demanded, grasping his shoulder. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No, but I can guess,” he answered. He pictured himself forcefully grabbing his heart, and the mental image alone was enough to calm its frenetic beating. “Jaray and Gerechtigkeit had some kind of shady backroom deal. How it worked, what it was—doesn’t seem to matter, now. But Gerechtigkeit is here weeks early. Sophia is outside of Blackgard. Meaning… they’ll be coming for us. Hard.”

“…I told you not to do this,” came Elenore’s voice, barely a whisper in his mind.

“It’s already done. Sophia is still safe,” he responded to her. “All the gods will’ve seen what’s happened. I need you to do what you can to convince them to switch sides. Use Ail, that god of couriers you mentioned might defect. Use every connection you have. The final test has come early.”

“I will,” she answered simply, as though nothing were amiss.

“You need to return immediately,” Durran continued, oblivious to Argrave’s conversation. “Teleport back, or—”

“Teleportation won’t work,” Onychinusa interrupted, joining the conversation with a serious, no-nonsense tenor that was rather unlike her. “Gerechtigkeit can intercept any shamanic magic—he isn’t limited, like deities. Attempting to go to Blackgard would only result in an immediate engagement with the heart of all his forces.”

Argrave perked his head up when she said that, but his brother-in-law spoke before he could.

“I could take Sophia,” Durran suggested. “Or we could use Raccomen. Or even that lunar dragon, what with her incredible speed—anything to get Sophia to safety, to head back to Blackgard.”

“All of those options are simply too risky,” Anneliese dismissed one-sidedly. “Blackgard is safest, yes, but they’ll know that. Every single being at Gerechtigkeit’s disposal will be coming out, all at once, in far grander displays of force that what we’ve experienced today. We can’t afford to overextend. We can’t afford any mistake.”

Silence fell over everyone as the dread terror continued to flow into this world. Argrave could practically feel the noose tightening around their necks, but going from one neck-and-neck battle into the final fight was so terrifying that they were all at a loss.

“Argrave… I… I can’t keep my head…” Sophia said, her quiet voice barely breaking the silence.

Argrave finally broke his gaze away from that deluge of black, muddy liquid, pulsing with eyes as he looked down at Sophia. “Hey, hey…!” He knelt just in time to catch her as she lurched forward. “Sophia? Sophia, what are you feeling?!”

“I’m tired…” she continued.

“Her power of creation is being forcibly triggered,” Raven explained as he watched. “It’s exhausting her.”

“What?” Anneliese said, as much an exclamation of disbelief as a question. As her mind worked, the disbelief faded. “That explains a lot, actually. Jaray was the catalyst for all of this. Gerechtigkeit must’ve done something to his body. Trapped him, in essence. When she remade him…”

Argrave swore internally. If Sophia was reduced to this… it made things much more difficult for them. But even as this new problem emerged, he recognized the need for fast action. “Damn it all. Anneliese, I need you to take Sophia,” he instructed her. “I need you to keep her safe.” He handed the young girl off to his queen, then looked back toward the coming mayhem. “More than that—I need you to rally the world. I need you to finish dealing with what pockets of forces Jaray established alongside Elenore, and I need you to bring the whole of our forces to bear for a counteroffensive.”

“And what do you intend to do?” She questioned, fear on her tone.

“Stem the tide,” Argrave answered. “Staunch the bleeding with blood of my own. So long as you’re out here, I can’t fall. I’d be a fool not to take advantage.”

“You already are a fool,” Anneliese blurted out with worry and conviction. She knew better than anyone that now wasn’t the time to dither. “But I love you.”

“I love you too, Anneliese.” With one last brush of his wife’s hair, he attempted to teleport using one of his blood echoes still in Blackgard.

The very next moment, Argrave found himself in freefall miles into the sky. A black winged monstrosity made of the foul substance coming from the world’s wound grasped his face as if it had caught him out of the air. It resembled a gargoyle, and though its body looked composed of black mud, its head was supplanted by a giant almond-shaped eye glistening like golden glass.

It had intercepted him mid-teleport.

They plummeted downward, and Argrave felt the urge to vomit as he felt that black liquid the creature was made of trying to enter his mouth as if it were alive—alive, and starved. It burned to the touch like fire. He twisted his body and wildly cast blood magic into its body, extricating himself of the abomination. It exploded away, yet left its hand wrapped around his face. He tried to wipe the living sludge off before simply conjuring blood-imbued fire to burn it, and some of his skin, away. Only then did he cast [Absolute Movement], gaining the power of flight.

Just as Onychinusa had said, Argrave wasn’t far from the wound in the world. The black gash still constantly poured more of Gerechtigkeit’s embryonic tissue. This close to it, those terrifying feelings that overwhelmed the senses pervaded his mind. He’d only heard it described in Heroes of Berendar and experienced it loosely through the memories of the Gilderwatchers and Erlebnis. Neither could adequately convey the true sense of dread Gerechtigkeit invoked.

As thousands of embryonic golems broke free of the pillar of sludge, a barely-perceptible flame raged all around. It looked like nothing more than gas in the air—a vague shimmering. Already, though, it had marked the vast green plains outside Jast. Everywhere that it touched rotted, becoming naught more than another part of the coming wave of sludge. It promised to eat everything, like a tide of acid coming to sweep civilization away. It had already marked the closest city of Jast, leaving scars of decay. Argrave could hear the people in the city scream in agony as their guts turned to liquid inside their body. Its great towers had already begun to crumble.

Already, this calamity’s power was amplified infinitely beyond what Argrave remembered.

Without hesitation, Argrave forced himself deeper toward its heart. The dread crept up his body like water swallowing him as he went deeper into a pool. Swarms of those terrible eye-golems came at him from above and below—flying, stretching, falling… he didn’t pay any attention to their attack, getting to the heart of this foul formation.

Then, with both of his hands, with all of the blood echoes stored inside his body, even with the eyes bestowed unto him by Garm so long ago… Argrave called upon the most potent blood magic he could.

#####

Not even half a minute after Argrave had left them, Anneliese bore witness to one of the most impressive displays of power she had ever seen.

Like a red star brought to the planet, a gigantic pulsing mass of blood magic fought against Gerechtigkeit’s encroachment onto this realm. At first, it appeared like nothing more than a dark red ruby amidst the tide of misery. Soon enough, it began to twist and wind around the pillar of the calamity’s embryonic tissue until it became a maroon serpent in the sky, feasting upon the bounty offered by the wound in the world.

The resulting rush of vitality was harsher adrenaline than anything Anneliese had ever experienced before. Even the Shadowlands had been nothing compared to the scope of power that flowed from Argrave to her—but just as she received it, so too did she return it to him, understanding well the desperate struggle he engaged in at the heart of the wound in the world.

Anneliese turned, walking backward to address all assembled. “Everyone!” she shouted, her tone firm and decisive. They were unprepared… but that did not mean that they were unready. She needed to remind them of that. “All of us have spent the past eternity preparing for this event. We all knew this day would come, and never once did we expect it to be on our terms. Nothing has changed!

“Right now, the calamity is nothing more than mindless sludge, ungracefully pouring into this world where he does not belong. We, however, can waste no time in doing what needs to be done. In minutes at worst, hours at best, the calamity will be upon this world in earnest. Argrave bleeds and dies for us. He experiences more pain every passing moment than most will in a lifetime. Let us return to him the same fervor in preparing to fight for our world!”

The assembled party wasn’t large enough to respond with a thunderous cheer, but Anneliese felt certain the impact was the same. All, from Law to Raven, were reminded of the importance of their task. Argrave would stem the tide as best he could. It was up to Anneliese, then, to rally their forces for the counteroffensive.

If she could not match Argrave’s efforts… all would be lost.

Chapter 32

Lorena had become the diligent watchdog of the world, and she relished that task. To employ the omniscience the Heralds had so abused in her time toward thwarting them; no revenge could be sweeter, no role more satisfying. The fight had been a little dodgy at first, but the arrival of unexpected allies had turned the tide and she’d been pleased to see Jaray’s efforts unravel.

Lorena had neglected to consider, however, that the god of politics would play all sides.

The lull in the fighting had been but a prelude to an unimaginable resurgence. They’d thought that, when the tide retreated, it signified the end of the turbulent waves. But however far the tide retreats, it comes back twice as strong. That metaphor held true here as all of their opposition converged at one point: Berendar.

Argrave had slain scores of undead in preparation for this day, but for every one he'd given a true death was another that now walked up out of the sea. Rotten leviathans rose from the ocean, led by golden knights akin to Lindon’s silver knighted form. Marching alongside them were the few automatons that they'd failed to disable from distant continents. Giants of dead flesh, processed metal, and broken will slammed against their battered defenses, and already some coastal cities began to falter.

And all of this neglected to include the presence of Gerechtigkeit. Even with Argrave’s desperate struggle against the tide, the city of Jast had already been entirely lost. The golems hunted down evacuating inhabitants like boars herded by hunters. Even S-rank spellcasters couldn’t hold their own against these creatures for long. This embryotic tissue was but a prelude to the true power Gerechtigkeit could exert—the power to end the world.

She reported all she could to Elenore, trying to lose herself in the monotony of the task to distract herself from the hopelessness of the situation. They’d been caught off-balance, and though Anneliese was intelligent and resourceful, Lorena had doubts about her ability to rally a force capable of fighting back against the calamity that had come weeks early.

“Mother!”

Lorena broke her connection with the moon beneath her body and opened her eyes to see her daughter standing before her in humanoid form. She had designed her form in the likeness of Anneliese—they were very similar, barring her draconic markers and red hair. Her daughter kept a very close eye on the happenings of the surface, watching through their connection to the moon. All of the dragons did, these days. How could they not?

“Return,” Lorena responded, speaking in the draconic tongue. She maintained her ordinary form. “I cannot be distracted for even a moment.”

“I won’t,” her daughter answered, staring up at her towering dragon form without flinching. “I’ve spoken to all of the others. Six hundred of us are prepared to depart to the surface.”

“What?!” Lorena slammed her tail against the ground of the temple she rested within. “You’d die! All of you would.”

“As do millions as we do nothing!” Her daughter protested passionately. “You’ve taken a stand, mother. Sophia is down there—we can be fixed. We can be adapted to the world we came from and walk upon it freely once again.”

Lorena’s nostrils flared, and fire and smoke billowed around her snout. She’d kept a diligent eye on the world, and in so doing, lost track of what took place within her own home. The idea of losing her daughter frightened her beyond compare.

“Even if it came to be that we were permitted to exist on the surface once more, none of you have seen battle. I would not have you fight against the most potent enemy in the world as your first conflict.” Lorena slammed one mighty arm against the ground and rose imposingly. “I will not allow it.”

“We’re going,” her daughter said defiantly, matching her mother’s fire with a flame of her own. “And you can’t stop us. Whether we should die while making the journey, or be saved by Sophia upon our arrival… that is solely up to you. You can be our leader, or you can be my mother. We can all see which is needed most at present. Myself most of all.”

Lorena’s claws dug into the floor of the temple until the rock beneath her turned to dust, and fires of anger rose from her nostrils as she watched her daughter… until, begrudgingly, her body loosened.

“You are naïve and frustrating.” Lorena let out a smoky sigh. “But I will inform them of your coming, and when the time comes… lead at the helm.”

“And will you introduce me to father?” She smiled happily, like she’d been given a gift from her parent rather than approval to go off to war. “Don’t worry—I’ll keep up the secret!”

“Be serious, girl!” Lorena slammed her tail again. “And leave me. I must keep watch.”

#####

“The lunar dragons?” Anneliese exhaled in awe, but continued to speak to Elenore in her head. “That’s a blessing. But Sophia is unprepared to adapt them to this world. Raven says the toll using her power is taking on her should fade, but… I’ll be ready for any occurrence.”

Anneliese ended the mental communication. Elenore was ably communicating using Ail, god of couriers. Despite the internecine warfare breeding enmity among the remaining deities that’d taken Jaray’s side, the Bat remained an ever-persuasive figure. They won more and more allies by the second to fight against the rampaging hordes Gerechtigkeit invoked. These allies of convenience still found death at Argrave’s hand unideal, but if Gerechtigkeit won the world ended. The calamity’s defeat took precedence, and Elenore could convince most of the traitorous bastards of that.

Anneliese’s role was to be leadership, but until the time came for her to actually lead them into battle, she focused on acquiring more… unorthodox… forces.

Anneliese focused back on the Manumitter, who wore the shell of Good King Norman fashioned from Shadowlander flesh. That form had once been host to the horrifying mind of Traugott, but now he’d taken the name of Guy and wore a tremendous amount of brown coverings to hide his Shadowlander-esque body. He now supported their cause full-heartedly—and of yet, there had been no variation to that.

Still, trust wasn’t enough with the world in the balance. Raven had planted a mark on him of the same kind on Durran. With a thought, Raven could obliterate the man who’d once been Traugott—a harsh measure, but one that ensured compliance. They could brook no disobedience. Mercy could come when the world was improved enough to permit it. Guy was ignorant of this mark, but even despite that, he’d been extremely helpful. He was shaping up to be an infinitely more moral person than Traugott had been. So long as he remained so… they would have no problem.

“She’s on the other side,” Guy informed her. “When I open it, she’ll walk through.”

“No time to hesitate,” Anneliese declared, getting a safe distance away. Sophia stirred in her grip, writhing from an intense headache and fatigue both. “Breach the Shadowlands. Let’s see if the seed we’ve sown bore fruit.”

Guy sliced his hand down through the air, and from it, a portal took shape. A few moments after, like stepping out of parchment into a third dimension, the white-haired revolutionary woman that they’d fought in the Shadowlands walked out. At once, the air seemed to shift. Her hunger began to eat away at all sensations in this world—a proper signal that the Shadowlanders still didn’t belong here on this realm.

“No time for courtesies,” Anneliese said firmly. “We have reason to believe—”

“Yes,” interrupted the woman. “We’ll fight the Hopeful here, should he arrive, and Gerechtigkeit after that.” She bowed her head. “It’s been a while, Anneliese.”

Anneliese shifted on her feet uneasily—she was almost unnerved by how readily she agreed, and her suspicion flared. “Why?”

“Those people you left behind,” the woman continued. “They guided us ably. We earned victory after victory against the Hopeful, enlarging our ranks. When the time came, and they found themselves withering away… we offered to inherit their memories, consuming those legendary heroes with our hunger.” She raised a hand. “About half of them agreed. I’m the product of their sacrifice… and the heir to their memories. I will fight for the land that was theirs, and for the people that are mine.” Her eyes wandered to Sophia, who was protected by some of the most powerful people in the world. “And I know that girl may well be the key to eliminating our hunger.”

Anneliese grew protective at once—she was uncomfortable at the Shadowlanders, of all people, knowing the value Sophia held. In the Shadowlands, the Hopeful had eaten one of Argrave’s memories—now, it seemed this woman had done the same for the heroes of old they’d left behind. It sounded like good news, yet in Anneliese’s experience, things seldom went as she hoped. Could this time be believed? Had they done a good deed that would simply be repaid?

“We’ll maintain our strength for the final push,” the revolutionary continued. “The Hopeful will be doing the same thing. He is the single last agent for the Heralds in the world—he’ll attempt to appear at the most opportune time, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.”

“Yet you’re needed now,” Anneliese argued. “Our cities are dying. Jast has already fallen, and Mateth is being pushed to the breaking point. Even Blackgard is under assault.”

“I made that assessment having inherited a dozen of the best strategic minds of your world,” the woman said, maintaining her calm demeanor that was rather unlike the brash, berserker tendency she’d exhibited the last time they’d met—evidence that she’d changed, or that she was lying. “The Hopeful will attack later. We will be prepared. Only after we win would we would ask that Sophia be employed toward curing our hunger.”

Anneliese looked back at Argrave, fighting even now in the heart of the calamity. She didn’t need to ask him to know what Argrave would do.

“We’ll be relying on you.” Anneliese turned back. “Guy will come with you. He’s connected with Elenore, and can keep open lines of communication.”

Guy nodded determinedly—he knew his role, and accepted it proudly. She could detect no deception.

“That’s very trusting,” the woman answered. “And very helpful. If we can breach the Shadowlands wherever we please, we’ll be better able to respond to the Hopeful. I appreciate it. When we’ve earned victory, we’ll be relying on Sophia. That hope will spur us forward.”

Anneliese gave a nod, choosing not to mention the mark Raven had given Guy. The revolutionary said no more, fading back into the portal of Guy’s creation. He soon followed after her—and like that, the opening to the Shadowlands shut.

“We’ve done as much we could,” Elenore said, evidently watching this meeting. “I can’t honestly say whether or not we can rely on them, but if we can… it’ll be tremendous. Raccomen has repaired his portal south of the Tower of the Gray Owl—well, the land where the tower used to be, before it fell. Gods are flooding in to southern Vasquer—they’ll be coming as reinforcements soon enough.”

“I’ll receive them,” Anneliese answered. “Anything else?”

“Mundi has become unlivable,” Elenore disclosed. “The dwarves are evacuating it, with help from Dario and Melanie. Everywhere else is in similarly dire straits, but Blackgard is… it’s holding. The improvements we made to the defenses are doing wonders, but I fear what happens when Gerechtigkeit coalesces.”

Anneliese looked north, watching Argrave’s tremendous fight at the heart of the conflict. The deluge of misery he faced had only grown while she’d rallied what forces she could. The wound had widened, and the sludge-like embryotic tissue had waxed while Argrave’s struggle against it remained the same size. His brilliant ruby of resistance seemed buried by the haze of what was to come.

“And Hause?” Anneliese questioned.

“She’s ready,” said Elenore. “She’ll bring forth our potential. Provided you and Argrave can make it, she’ll help us. But the outside of Blackgard… those calamitous golems are everywhere. Without the recreation of the defenses of the Palace of Heaven, I’d probably be dead right alongside this whole city. None of us can leave, and I’m not certain it’s worth the risk to try and tempt that. We don’t even know what Hause could do for us.”

“Nor does Gerechtigkeit,” Anneliese pointed out. “I understand your point. But having seen Raven, Mina, or Vasilisa, and how they’ve changed…. my instinct tells me that Hause’s power may win us the day.”

“I trust you,” Elenore said simply. “The only who could say they trust you more than me is the man you’re staring at, now.”

Anneliese watched Argrave, running through all he’d told her to prepare her for this day—the countless things he knew about Gerechtigkeit, the location the battle was to take place, or the servants he’d call upon to win this feet. Argrave had always intended for her to lead their forces against Gerechtigkeit, when this day came.

For their sake, Anneliese wouldn’t disappoint him.

Chapter 33

At some point, Argrave stopped thinking about what was happening and what he was doing to stop it. It was as though he retreated within himself, going from an actor in a movie to someone watching it. He saw the spells being cast, saw his body rot away again and again to fight against this corruption encroaching upon the world, but he couldn’t say that he was the one doing it.

That was the only way he managed to stay sane.

It was impossible to distinguish between the wounds he caused himself and the wounds Gerechtigkeit imparted. They were one in the same, fundamentally—pain brought about because of an enemy. But as he all but showered in the embryotic tissue of the calamity of judgment, he began to see strange things—impossible things. It was as though time itself warped, bringing him back to eras of the past where the battle still raged.

Argrave saw great scores of enemies standing up against Gerechtigkeit. He saw Vasquer and Felipe I in their ranks, saw gods like Erlebnis and Law. He saw them rage, fight, and struggle against the calamity. He saw Gerechtigkeit’s hand, too, weaving things in the background. Manipulating. Corrupting. Exposing. Controlling.

The time-warped hallucinations came without an end in fragmented flashes of hardship and terror. He saw, for the first time, the perspective of the other side of this calamity of judgment. In coming so close to this embryotic tissue, he was exposed to the fundaments of Gerechtigkeit, who’d been born out of the child that’d once been Griffin. It wasn’t some curated propaganda piece, either—it was the true essence, showing the utter depths that Gerechtigkeit had been willing to sink to for the vaguest chance of victory.

Argrave saw that he’d attempted to create an infected lineage that permeated throughout the beast races, securing their loyalty in the next cycle—and in so doing, engineered their genocide. He’d played subtle roles in countless revolutions, ensuring that they never ended as ideally as those who’d began them intended. Argrave saw over a thousand revolutionary advances in magic and science utterly squashed in a deliberate effort to keep people ignorant. His watchful eye was a constant headwind against all progress in the world.

Argrave had always known that Gerechtigkeit’s influence wasn’t limited to the brief period that came once every one thousand years, yet he’d never pictured how extensive his oversight was.

He’d create great empires in one stroke, and have them cannibalize each other in the next. He used the lessons of one hundred thousand years to goad people into repeating cycles that he’d mastered. Jaray had been skillful, but Gerechtigkeit had mastered this. The gods were his only foil, the only countering force that brought forth their own power and experience sufficient to banish him every time. The gods were isolated, yes—but they were safe, and not at all inferior to him in terms of power. They balanced the cycle, ending it every time.

There had only been two exceptions to that rule: Argrave himself, and Lorena.

It was only when mortal power grew to something surpassing the gods that the cycle veered from its traditional route, enacting true change. Argrave knew the fate of Lorena’s struggle against the Heralds, yet now he saw flashes of it from Gerechtigkeit’s perspective. He saw unintelligible requests toward the Heralds, each about Sophia… and each rejected. In the end he’d avoided death only by conceding to the Heralds, accepting their aid in the face of Lorena’s onslaught. And, strangely… Argrave felt a great deal of regret in that decision.

Argrave continued to flow through battle after battle, and as he went backward Gerechtigkeit lost some of the experience, some of the ruthlessness, some of the low cunning that he’d possessed in later cycles. Some were brief, bitter defeats, while some were protracted campaigns spanning near a decade. Argrave found it all impossibly foreign. He hoped to find something at the center of all of this—something that could tell him what, precisely, had turned this man from the child called Griffin into the abomination that was Gerechtigkeit, if there was anything at all. He wanted to see how Sophia’s brother had become a monster.

He saw the first few cycles—dying at Sataistador’s hands more than once. Eagerness flooded him as Argrave thought he might be exposed to the beginning, might be exposed to the very day that the Heralds had taken Griffin from Good King Norman and subjected him to this.

Argrave had hope, until he realized he stared at an empty sky and a wound in the world.

It wasn’t an escalation of the pain that brought Argrave back to himself—rather, it was the sudden absence of it. The wound in the world had ceased to bleed. Like a raw injury exposed to salt and alcohol, the sudden lack of the sensation of pain was so overwhelming Argrave felt his body might fold inward, his head might collapse.

That would imply, of course, that he wasn’t broken already. And he couldn’t say for sure.

The golems still came, and Argrave’s body moved without any of his input to deliver devastatingly powerful blood magic. Anything that touched him, came near him, met a gruesome end. He could logically understand that he was acting like a rabid animal, but it felt beyond his control. Enemies kept coming, and he kept killing them. Whatever form they took—gargoyles, birds, reptilian creatures, or even human…

“Argrave. Argrave!” one of the enemies that’d touched him shouted—it’d lost an arm from a blast of red lightning, and now stood far away from him. “We need to go. We need to get out of here. Everyone is waiting for you!”

Argrave waited for it to come closer, hands twitching with anticipation. This one was large and powerful—he’d need to respond in kind.

“Anneliese is waiting for you,” it said, and something inside Argrave twitched.

He recognized the figure for who it truly was—Raven.

“Are you going to attack me again?” Raven questioned, coming closer with sufficient caution. Argrave couldn’t say anything in response—it was like he’d forgotten what words were. “You’ve done well, but it’s over. You can’t do any more. We need to get you out of here.”

Eventually, Raven fully bridged the gap. He grabbed Argrave—and though he thrashed instinctually, there was enough reason within to refrain from hurting someone he knew was only trying to help.

“Your body morphed your mind to cope with what was happening without shattering your ego.” Raven picked up him, then looked off to the distance. There, enough golems to hide the sun were approaching them. “If you can, I’d like you to direct whatever’s in your head toward getting us out of here.”

#####

Anneliese watched with bated breath as great flashes of red tore through the sky, sluggishly heading toward their position. The golems were beginning to converge back where Gerechtigkeit’s tissue had fell—that meant only one thing. The next stage of this long battle was to begin. She’d sent Raven out to help Argrave, because Elenore claimed that he’d become nonresponsive.

When Raven finally returned, alighting down and dispelling [Absolute Movement], Anneliese had been immensely glad she’d made that call.

Argrave looked more like a feral cat than a man—not in his appearance, but in his behavior. He fought against Raven’s grip with his teeth and his nails, having discarded all dignity in wake of something more primal. She could feel the stir of magic about him as he called upon spells, but she saw sparks of reason in his eyes that killed the spells before they could manifest.

“You,” Raven said commandingly. “Ground him. He needs to be reminded of who he is.”

Anneliese came to him immediately, fear and worry dominating her actions. She took him from Raven, utterly ignoring his wretched state. He ceased to thrash, but she could tell there was a madness in his eyes. As she began to imagine what he’d been through up there to reduce him to this, she began to cry. She did so silently, ever mindful of the vast army behind her that watched their every move. Raven used his imposing form to shield the two of them from view, and she repeated both of his names in a desperate whisper, pleading with him.

“Has Gerechtigkeit done something to him?” she eventually managed to ask of Raven when Argrave offered her no answers. He’d calmed, clutching her as if she was his only refuge in a storm. 

“Gerechtigkeit’s embryotic tissue has left some mark on his flesh, but as for his mind… I’m all but certain he did this to himself. It was a self-preservation instinct. You can verify as much with [Truesight].” Raven looked into the distance, where the golems continued to return to the point of Gerechtigkeit’s landing. “I suggest that you allow me to take him away to join with Sophia. We need to analyze Gerechtigkeit’s tissue for us to use Sophia’s power to follow Gerechtigkeit back through that wound. I can study the lingering remnants left on Argrave’s body toward that end.”

Argrave mumbled something.

“What was that?” Anneliese pulled back. “Argrave? Can you hear me?”

“Not done… yet,” he said, his words slurred like his lips and tongue were too thick to use.

“No more from you,” she said—not demanding, but begging. “No more.”

“Morale fucked,” Argrave said, and when she looked into his gray eyes, she saw most of their acuity returned. She saw him. Relief flooded into her, damming the stream of tears running down her face. “They think… hurt. Everyone falling back. Need… bang. Need to start things with… bang.”

“I will,” Anneliese promised. “We’ll begin the counterattack shortly. Trust me, Argrave. I can do this.”

“Mmm.” Argrave drew away, rising to his feet. His tattered coat and clothes barely clung to his frame, but it made him seem all the more regal as he straightened his back. “Start… with punching a hole. House. Hause. Blackgard. Make it to Blackgard.”

“You’re unwell,” Raven disagreed. “We can’t heed your strategy.”

“I’m not… there’s…” he seemed to brighten as words came to him. “Stroke victim,” Argrave looked at Raven. “Mind sharp. No control. Anne. You see? Still me.” He pointed to his eyes.

Anneliese studied him intently, both with [Truesight] and her own empathy. Eventually, she nodded—his mind was present, but not fully attuned with his body. “Okay. You want us to punch through to Blackgard. How?”

“I’m obese.” Argrave frowned, perhaps realizing he’d misspoke. “Coalescing… good for me. For us. One target. Big target.” He turned around. “On my signal, okay?”

“Yes.” Anneliese wiped her face down quickly and rose to her feet, prepared to begin the battle anew. She wasn’t any surer of what Argrave had said than Raven was, but she trusted that he was acting rationally.

When Argrave began to cast a familiar yet subtly different spell, she pieced together what Argrave had meant to say when he said, ‘I’m obese.’ He was referring to the glut of vitality he’d accrued fighting against Gerechtigkeit so long—vitality that could manifest itself as blood magic.

Argrave walked a long distance away from the army, standing at the head of the field, and took an archer’s stance. A crimson mana ripple cut the air before a gargantuan bow of blood, easily twenty feet tall, appeared before Argrave. He had to hold the thing sideways, but he took a deep breath and pulled on its string.

At once, a tremendous torrent of blood burst out of Argrave’s body from every point. He was employing a modified version of [Bloodfeud Bow], one that she’d never seen him make, never discussed with him. Perhaps he never had—perhaps he was calling upon this magic by instinct. Whatever the case, the spell taxed him so greatly he fell to one knee. Even amidst that, he rested his arm atop that knee to keep it steadily trained on Gerechtigkeit.

In mere seconds, Anneliese could tangibly feel the power in the air. It was a pressure as constant as gravity, emanating outward. Argrave continued to add, add, add, until it began to distort the surroundings, warp the air, and send out ripples of power that cracked the earth and set fell winds stirring.

“Everyone, get back!” Anneliese shouted over it. “And get ready!”

She led the efforts in the rapid retreat, and everyone wasted no time in expeditiously giving Argrave more than sufficient distance. When, finally, the pressure wasn’t so overwhelming, she looked back. She was shocked to discover she couldn’t actually see Gerechtigkeit anymore. The maroon bolt, trained toward their enemy, had turned everything red. Argrave’s brush of pure power had hued the world according to its nature.

A roar split the air—a great rumbling, like some dark beast risen from the hells. It was Argrave’s roar, transformed into something unearthly by the sheer magnitude of the power he wielded. It sunk into the mind of the vast army assembled here, shaking their minds as powerfully as Gerechtigkeit himself had. And when that thought took root…

Argrave unleashed the full might of his blood feud.

Chapter 34

The bolt of blood magic shot forth with enough speed that all onlookers saw was what had been left in its wake. Its tightly compressed power leaked out in jagged black-red sparks that tainted the land, leaving a tremendous field of coursing maroon power in the line it had travelled. An entire forest had become ash in half a second, and the hue marking the land only barely began to fade.

Argrave stared ahead with steady eyes, recovering from the tremendous burden that spell had put on him. Then, a voice cut across the scar he’d carved in the world.

“The favorite of your rudimentary gambits,” the voice said—a deep, rumbling voice that made one’s ears throb, one’s chest ache. “A cheap trick in your hands, but a suitable weapon in mine.”

Argrave’s bolt of blood thrust out of the crimson vortex, clenched firmly as a spear by a gargantuan hand of the same roiling black sludge he’d been fighting minutes ago. It stabbed directly at him, but Argrave met it without even closing his eyes. Claimed by Gerechtigkeit as his own weapon, the spell seemed liable to deliver its explosive power upon Argrave and all the forces at his back.

Before it could, it tilted upward and burst in a curving line with a destination in the sky. All of the clouds in sight vanished, dispelled by the sheer force of its ascent. That spell was Argrave’s, and it responded to his will as ably as any of his [Electric Eels]. It vanished like a rocket sent to space, but Argrave could firmly feel it connected to his being. He could feel its slow turn, adrift in space… and before long, he could feel its point aimed firmly at his target once more. It descended with the selfsame force it had left this planet.

The arrow of blood split the sky, burning the atmosphere, breaking the sound barrier. Thousands of sludge-like black hands rose into the sky on thin appendages, grasping at the bolt as it fell. Once it reached the heart of Gerechtigkeit’s essence, Argrave unbound the spell. Its power, tightly packed, exploded outward in a blooming spiral. The surge of vitality finally returning to Argrave was evidence that his attack had landed successfully.

Moments later, evidence reached all of them. The earth beneath shifted, the air around attempted to escape from the force, and the world itself reeled from the destructive impact of that single spell. As a wave of undeniable power slammed into Argrave hard enough to send him tumbling backward, he expected they’d feel the impact all the way in the Great Chu.

The one feeling it the most would be Gerechtigkeit.

When the dust cleared, the first thing that Argrave saw was a huge shell attached to an arm like a shield, facing the sky. The shell had been pierced through, and in the writhing mass of body parts that squirmed like a colony of worms in a panic, Argrave could see the lingering effects of his blood magic still eating away at the coalescing form of Gerechtigkeit. At this time, the calamity was at its most mutable, yet also at its most fragile. It was the perfect time to press the attack, breaking past this blockade Jaray had engineered.

Argrave looked back to find Anneliese, but she found him first, crouching beside him. “We’re going,” she said. He could barely hear her over his ringing ears. “Stout Heart Swan has lent her hounds. Come.”

Anneliese quickly helped him to sit aback a white wolf. The goddess of hunting—Durran’s patron—had lent use of her hounds to him, Anneliese, and some companions like Raven that they might be carried forth while keeping their hands open. Anneliese kept Sophia sitting right in front of her atop the same wolf, and together their small party bolted forth like wind. Sophia seemed less tired, but still markedly so. Despite their speed, Argrave didn’t feel pressed to hold onto its back to keep steady.

After the attack on Gerechtigkeit, less than half of the essence that he’d expended had returned to him. Such powerful one-shot spells were devastatingly powerful, yet not as energy-efficient as the ones he’d been using on the embryotic tissue. Gerechtigkeit’s consciousness was present, now, and that meant he could act freely… but his flesh wouldn’t be much firmer than liquid for a few minutes yet. To that end, Argrave cast the improved [Bloodfeud Bow] once again, hoping to give his allies more advantage.

Argrave’s flesh again turned to fire as the white-furred wolf bounded across the broken, dead landscape. Law strode above Argrave and Anneliese as they rode, his golden footfalls leaving no impact while he swung his sword fiercely at Gerechtigkeit. Leading all allied forces as the vanguard, he created a Domain of Law, strengthening all allies. Their mad charge to break into Blackgard was emboldened further yet. From Gerechtigkeit’s writhing, transformative mass, a black crab’s claw rose to catch the golden sword. Raccomen seemed to appear from empty space, creating a shroud-like portal that enveloped the claw, transferring it through space to somewhere else. The maneuver enabled Law’s blade to soar cleanly past, slicing into Gerechtigkeit’s mass.

As a howl of pain and a deep rumble of coming reprisal echoed throughout the world, the hounds made it near the ruins of Jast. The once-proud city of magic had been reduced to nothing more than history. None of its towers still stood, and all of its walls had been rendered ineffectual. They veered east, heading toward the rocky coast where the marble tower of Foamspire had once stood.

“The southern valley leading to Blackgard is plugged by foes,” Anneliese shouted to Argrave, even as his spell continued to grow in power. “Even if we can lift the siege of the undead and those golems, we don’t want to be funneled into the valley. We can’t fly over the mountains, either—between the golems and the active defense arrays, we can’t risk it. Not with Sophia.”

Argrave found it hard to speak, but he shouted back, “Plan?”

“We hug the coast, then use the ocean to reach the port,” Anneliese declared. “These hounds can traverse anything—open sky, or turbulent ocean. It should be sufficient.”

Argrave focused his attention back on the calamity, where Raccomen and Law fought as able allies. Argrave sought a place his [Bloodfeud Bow] would be used best, yet as he watched, Gerechtigkeit lashed out with a scorpion’s stinger at the god of justice. Raccomen redirected the attack into Law’s swinging golden blade, yet even as he cleaved the stinger in two the separated bits wrapped around his golden blade and shattered it. Law’s ethereal form was unphased, clenching its mighty fists together to batter Gerechtigkeit relentlessly.

Though Law tore into him, it appeared only as though his golden form was being sullied by the corruption of the calamity. Eventually, a hard black hand gripped his neck, and fire erupted out.

“Law… where is my justice?” Gerechtigkeit asked. “Must I make my own, as mortals ever do?”

Argrave, feeling his sanity wearing thin beneath this constant onslaught of pain induced by blood magic, fired the second enhanced [Bloodfeud Bow] directly at the sky. He soon trained it to strike from above as it had before. Though less than half as powerful, his spell still made its mark in this world as it lit up the sky. Both vanguard gods, seeing the coming airstrike, disengaged. As Raccomen attempted to phase away, one of the eye-golems erupted out of his own spatial portal—Argrave didn’t know when, but it must’ve discovered and entered the other side. It seized Raccomen, and before either deity could react, a colossal praying mantis arm erupted out, swiping like the reaper’s scythe. The god of space exploded into spirits, dead in less than a second.

Argrave’s second attack struck moments after, severing that outstretched mantis arm and dealing considerable damage to the undefended calamity. Still, before the unending tide, the attack seemed underwhelming. This explosive charge had at least given them the time they needed to bypass Gerechtigkeit and near the mountains surrounding Blackgard. To Argrave’s right he could see barely see Mateth, under siege by undead giants of the Bloodwoods that’d walked the ocean floor to do battle here. To his left, he saw the ruins of Foamspire, barely sticking out above the sea.

Gerechtigkeit followed closely behind them, arms crawling on the ground, legs sprinting full-throttle, and disgusting wings beating all at the same time to produce a horrifyingly face chase. It was only the effort of the full brunt of their forces they’d gathered that kept the calamity from overwhelming them.

“Argrave, the right,” shouted Anneliese.

Argrave looked again. Hundreds of golden-armored knights emerged from the forested hills in front of them. These warriors were a twin to the silver knight that had assaulted Blackgard. Each of them drew their blades in tandem, raising them prepared to fight.

“They’re weaker than what Orion faced, but more than powerful enough to kill if we’re not careful,” Anneliese outlined.

Argrave prepared powerful magic, hoping to quickly destroy what may be the last barrier between them and Blackgard. But as they grew ever nearer the host of golden knights blocking their route to the open ocean, Argrave’s gaze flicked upward in horror as a thick black line split the air above. Like ripping open curtains, two gargantuan hands ripped the fabric between this realm and the Shadowlands. Not far above them, the smiling face of the Hopeful peered down shadowed by the hundreds of gleaming eyes of those Shadowlanders who remained loyal to him.

“Faster!” came the decisive shout from Stout Heart Swan.

As the Hopeful fell from this world into theirs, the divine wolves beneath them worked their legs desperately to avoid being caught in this sudden ambush. The vivid yet horrifying world all around them became a squalid gray wasteland as the Hopeful’s influence sapped countless sensations from the world. They were barely fast enough to avoid a devastating attack from the absolute ruler of the Shadowlands. It split the earth, and the wolves scrambled up crumbling terrain in adept flight. Following shortly after that attack was a volley of projectiles from Shadowlander marksmen.

Anneliese managed to block most attacks for all the others, but Argrave’s wolf was struck. As the creature fell to the ground, he catapulted forward, carrying its momentum. He had the wit to use [Absolute Movement], and gained flight long before hitting the ground even became an option.  With a burst of power, he caught up to the rest. Anneliese seized his hand, pulling him down that he might sit upon the same wolf she did. Together, they sandwiched Sophia between them.

Argrave turned his body around so that he could look upon the biggest threat. When he saw the sheer bulk of the Shadowlanders behind, he feared the worst… only, he saw a familiar white-haired Shadowlander, and fighting erupted soon after. His burdened heart soared. The Hopeful’s smiling face disregarded it all, though, and his malevolent eyes stayed fixed on Sophia.

“Argrave, the Gilderwatchers…!” Anneliese said in surprise, and he whipped his head back around to peer forward.

Just as Anneliese said, the Gilderwatchers flowed down the mountains of Blackgard like a rushing stream. After having only seen Vasquer for so long—inanimate and sluggish, after centuries of barbaric confinement—seeing these feathered serpents move so quickly looked alarming, almost off. They moved to engage the golden-armored knights. The matchup was fitting, considering these knights were likely the enslaved wills of their brothers and sisters manifested as Gerechtigkeit’s slaves.

“Finally, a break. Let’s hurry,” Argrave said with conviction, then looked back to where the Shadowlanders fought.

The Hopeful was an utter monster. He tore through the horde of rebel Shadowlanders pouring out from Guy’s portal like they were annoying flies instead of god-destroying entities that’d once been gods themselves. The rebel commander attempted to reform her ranks to keep him back, to hurt him… but all it did was slow him down. His white-toothed smile persisted all the while, eyeing Sophia like tasty food. Everyone else was pressed engaging Gerechtigkeit—no obstacle stood between him and Argrave.

Of everyone, Argrave knew he was the only one who stood even half a chance against the Hopeful. He started to consider the idea this might be his stop.

Chapter 35

Argrave dismounted from the white wolf, and without a moment of reservation the creature raced on without him. He’d discussed his plans with Anneliese and the others, and though there were loud and vocal protests from all, the unstoppable advance of the Hopeful proved an undeniable fact.

That terrifying smiling face moved through the opposing armies of Shadowlanders, the clash between Law and Gerechtigkeit serving as background. The god of justice was proving a far stauncher opponent than they’d expected from him—indeed, his countless years of experience coupled with his consolidation of vast amounts of divine power were coming into full display at this pivotal moment. The calamity’s frustration was tangible. Far more tangible was the hulking giant of shadow, now without any more obstacles.

Well, that was untrue. Argrave was the last obstacle.

Argrave could see and feel the Hopeful’s shadow growing to consume this realm, fighting valiantly against the sun of souls high in the sky. Their licking hunger was deprivation incarnate, the very tongue of consumption. The darkness tasted his battered body for the swallowing mouth soon to come. But things had changed from their arena in the Shadowlands—this time, Argrave had the sun of his own design high in the sky. If the Hopeful tried to swallow him, the thing might well choke.

“Just when I was starting to feel a bit normal…” Argrave muttered to himself, the words half in jest and half in despair.

Once more, Argrave tapped into the state he’d devolved into to face Gerechtigkeit full-heartedly, and ran forward into the swallowing mouth.

#####

Anneliese had to resist the urge to flinch from the devastating power that soon erupted from behind. She had seen the depths of the power Argrave had displayed against Gerechtigkeit, but now she could feel it whipping winds through her hair and projecting its strength against her back. It was like a tailwind for their flight from this place, enabling them to press on.

“He’ll be okay, Sophia,” Anneliese reassured the girl squirming inches ahead on the back of the white wolf they sat upon. “So long as we do our job, he’ll be okay.”

“I won’t make any mistakes,” Sophia promised, clinging tightly to the wolf’s fur. “I’m feeling better. I think… I think he’s all free.”

Before Sophia could express her happiness, Elenore’s voice frantically cut into Anneliese’s head. “Put up a ward to block sound, now!”

Anneliese processed the command and heeded it without a moment’s hesitation. Her wolf stopped in place steps before coming free of the ward. Seconds later, she saw something fly overhead. Its mouth was an extremely bizarre shape, like a cone with several obstructions. When she looked back at the army, however, what she saw was utterly baffling. Thousands had died in place, and seemingly without any obvious source. Those same creatures flew around with reckless abandon.

“Those flying creatures are using… sound to kill, somehow,” Elenore explained. “Lorena says that all of people’s organs are vibrating so intensely they rupture whenever those creatures scream. The distance… it’s not insignificant, either. And even if it doesn’t kill, it can break someone in countless other ways.”

Hearing that sounded intensely frightening. The enchantments Artur had placed on his armor likely would’ve protected her, but those things could kill ordinary people like nothing else she’d seen. “Where are they coming from?” Anneliese questioned.

“They’re spreading out from Gerechtigkeit’s position. Lorena says… that her kin could fight them without significant risk. But you’d need to prepare Sophia for their arrival so they don’t perish on the surface. Has she regained her vigor?”

Anneliese nodded at once. “They could get us to Blackgard without much risk. Let’s do it,” she commanded decisively.

“The risk is in the fact that you’ll be forced to pause,” Elenore said. “I’ll do my best on your end, but be prepared for anything.”

#####

Argrave was right in that he was a true obstacle to the Hopeful. But obstacles were meant to be overcome.

When he first clashed with the Hopeful, staring into that smiling face as he raged with power born of his own flesh and blood, he thought there might’ve been some hope. The hungering shadows were weaker here under the sun of souls, and he had abandoned a great deal of his good sense to focus on dealing massive damage. The endless consumption was beaten back, and the fight was taken to the body generating the shadows instead.

Yet… to fight against a constant tide was different than fighting a thinking enemy.

The Hopeful was no stranger to combat. He baited, feinted, retreated, advanced—he was versed in power of this magnitude, and he knew how to use it to his own ends as well as he knew how to fight against it. Argrave had instinct and the vague direction of his logical mind… but the power that he wielded was too extreme, too foreign to him, to fight the Hopeful as an equal in both strategy in power.

Argrave ceased being an opponent. He tried only to be a wall—something that needed to be broken, destroyed completely, before this enemy force could pass. He hoped only to buy time.

And soon, the Hopeful’s mastery was aided by sound—sound so loud that all sound ceased to be, that Argrave’s brain rattled, that his eyes split and he bled from every orifice. The tide of vitality rushing in from the fight against the hunger replaced all that was lost, but it chipped away at the wall, bit by bit, wearing it down. Amidst this hellish resistance, Argrave began to hear a voice, whispering to him from the shadows.

The cycle of judgment is no wheel, said the all-consuming hunger as it crept ever nearer.

‘Tis a great game of tug-a-rope, life and death on opposite sides.

Any time anyone pulls very far, you can count on another tug back to the dawn.

Argrave could feel the sensations in him draining away, one-by-one, as the hunger beat back the power of his blood. But that voice could not be heard, could not be seen, could not be felt. It merely was, pervading his mind like something beyond it all.

Whether you’re born of dark or you drink of light, inside we remain much the same.

For greed or for creed, we live and die exchanging blows.

But when the dust has all settled, we’re but fools and blunt tools.

Mice, subjected to tests beyond our ken for things not our kin.

Argrave attempted to renew his attacks with a vengeance, seeking out that smiling face, that swallowing mouth… and though he saw it, never could he damage it. It closed in on him, inevitable and invincible.

The mouse cannot master its labyrinth, nor appreciate its absence.

But its willful submission will grant it praise. 

Argrave ceased to feel the hunger, the endless desire. Instead, he felt the thing tear into him, eating him well and whole. His body was made a part of a larger whole—an ancient being that’d existed long before the cycle of judgment, and would continue to do so even should they succeed. In becoming one with it, Argrave saw truths only it was privy to.

And then… Argrave’s body died.

…

…

…

…however, Argrave’s soul had long ago been detached from his body. He couldn’t tell precisely when, but at some point Argrave found himself in the stars again, surrounded by trillions of souls taken from every living creature. Their combined light was blinding. The suns, merged in their eternal state of fusion, greeted him, probing him for permission like a computer algorithm.

Argrave had to admit, body death was a haunting experience. Everyone had known the theory behind the whole ‘dying’ thing was sound. His soul was undying—it was precisely the sort of soul liches used to achieve immortal life. They had an anchor, and from that anchor, could return from death infinitely. However… actually doing it? That wasn’t something anyone, even Argrave, had been eager to test out.

The first part had worked. Argrave’s consciousness had returned to his anchored soul. Now, all he needed was the next part—actually coming back to life. They had three contingencies—the first, Anneliese’s connection could rebuild him. He could always faintly feel her existence thanks to the binding ritual Artur had performed, and that hadn’t changed.

But even if Anneliese couldn’t bring Argrave back, two more options remained. The second—Argrave could use the suns’ help, somehow. Their life remained, dormant yet nevertheless incredibly powerful. And the third…it was Sophia. It was only third because Argrave hesitated to prevail upon her. At the same time, the young girl was capable of essentially anything.

Argrave waited, adrift in the stars. He admired his own creation, reflecting on his brilliance. There was a lot to reflect on, after all. A lot of time.

A lot of time…

Quite the long respawn timer, Argrave thought. He wanted to give Anneliese proper time before trying out anything with the suns, but he was also a bit ill-at-ease with the whole ‘disembodied’ business. Argrave did the disembodied equivalent of tapping his foot impatiently, wondering if his wife—no, his widow—had already moved on to another guy that still had all his flesh.

Then… blackness.

Moments later, hearing, then sight. Then, unfortunately, taste. Argrave tasted something bitter and salty. He thought it was blood at first, but its dryness illuminated him as to what it was. He thrashed, coming fully into himself as he hacked sand out of his mouth. He scraped sand off his tongue with his nails, looking around as he did so.

He saw a lunar dragon crashed on the beach, breathing heavily. Anneliese came to her feet, gathering herself from her disorientation. She’d shielded Sophia from the fall, holding the girl in her arms protectively. He tried to stand and go to them, only for his newborn limbs to fail him. He collapsed disgracefully back in the sand, swallowing another mouthful of sand.

Argrave was nude as a newborn on the beach in the biggest city in Vasquer. Certainly not the daring escape he’d have stories written about, but a more than sufficient one. They’d made it back to Blackgard.

And from here, their counteroffensive could begin.

Chapter 36

Argrave closed and opened his hand as he sat on the beach with Sophia. He wore temporary rags, his body barely responded to him, but there was no denying he was alive. There was nothing quite like losing it all to appreciate how much he had. Theorizing about the impermanence of his body’s death was all well and good, but truth be told, that had been one of the most harrowing experiences, and he’d surely remember it forevermore.

And not merely because of what’d been done to him—also because of what he’d learned.

He’d been given a glimpse of the purpose of the Hopeful truly was when his mind had been consumed by the thing. The master of the Shadowlands wasn’t a subordinate of the Heralds—he was an equal, perhaps something even beyond that. He certainly wasn’t a simple tool or slave, and nor were the Shadowlands something insignificant to the larger scheme of things. It might be said the Hopeful was at the crux of it all.

But the Heralds… their name was literal. They heralded something else—a massive change, a shift of the paradigm. The Hopeful actually knew what that change was, expected it… hoped for it, like nothing else. His anticipation of the ecstasy he’d experience in the coming change was so strong his face was permanently warped like that in voluntary enthusiasm.  It was a disturbing show of faith.

Argrave had always suspected—been outright told, even—that this entire cycle was in service of something else. Confirming that suspicion did nothing to make him pause or arouse his curiosity.

With his thoughts slowing, he looked at Sophia. She looked totally exhausted. He put his hand on her head and she flinched, woken up from near-sleep.

“You did good, Sophia. You’re doing great.” He shakily rose to his feet. “Let’s get going.”

He trudged along up the sand, heading for the parliamentary hall where his sister and Anneliese would be struggling valiantly against what they were up against. Sophia tried to follow along, but she stumbled from fatigue a few times. Argrave picked her up and walked along.

“I can walk,” Sophia said quietly.

“You can,” he answered back, but didn’t put her down.

With that, nothing more needed to be said. Within Blackgard, the only evidence of the raging battle against Gerechtigkeit was the sight of it looming above in flashes of light. The city sounded serene, undisturbed. The Domain of Order Argrave had imposed using Law’s blessing still persisted, keeping the peace. Everyone was either inside their home, or had sought refuge in the various shelters they’d established.

At some point, Sophia fell asleep as Argrave steadily walked through the silent city. It was a steeling reminder to witness the beautiful city he’d helped flourished—a still image of one little picture comprising the larger one. When he finally arrived at the parliamentary hall, he saw Anneliese and Raven leaving.

“Argrave,” Anneliese called out, rushing up to greet him. “I was just about to come for you. You’re well? At least… well enough?”

“Stiff,” he said, then added, “I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“Law’s been holding his own against Gerechtigkeit, stalling,” she said in some small relief. “But it seems like nothing we do can cause significant damage to Gerechtigkeit. We’d intended to go to Hause, now.”

“Time for her to make good on her word,” Raven shook his head. “If she hadn’t been so foolishly cautious, all of this might’ve been avoided.”

“It might do nothing,” Anneliese countered.

“And it might do everything,” he answered back just as firmly.

Anneliese looked up. “Whatever the case, the situation has stabilized. The longer it stretches on, though, the more powerful he’ll get. We’re losing ground second by second. The Great Chu… I can’t even think about it.”

“No time to waste, then,” Argrave muttered beneath his breath. “Where are we going?”

“I’d intended to study you for insight on that wound.” Raven looked up to the sky—south toward Jast, where that great crack in reality persisted, visible even when one’s eyes were closed. “But you had to go and die, removing any trace it might’ve left on your body. Now you’re useless to me.”

“What, then?” Argrave pressed.

“We go to Hause,” Anneliese outlined. “We see what she can do for us. Raven, meanwhile…”

Raven ground his huge obsidian staff into the ground. “I’ve been considering taking the role I’d cast aside.”

Argrave’s face grew serious. “You’re needed,” he said simply. “Not as you were, but as you are.”

“We’re losing.” Raven walked closer to Argrave, and though his figure had become more human-like, the fact remained he towered over him. “If what Hause gives us is insufficient, we will lose. The Smiling Raven may help us win. That sun you made—it harbors people’s souls. Potentiation may not even pose any risk to me anymore. Their minds may not overrun my own.”

“You don’t know that,” Argrave argued. “And besides, Lorena said the lunar dragons could do what you do as well—and if that’s true, potentiation poses no risk for them, either. We don’t need to risk losing you to that creature.”

“I’ll play my role—I’ll help discover how to hunt Gerechtigkeit where he truly lives. After, though… unless I have confidence of our victory, I’ll do what I deem necessary.”

“Raven…!” Argrave stepped forward.

“That’s my decision,” he said. Then, he turned and walked away, fading into the silent city before Argrave could say another word.

“I think he’s right to say as much.” Anneliese’s words made Argrave look at her pointedly. “Instead of arguing, let’s prove his worries unfounded. Hause awaits.”

Argrave laughed lightly and hollowly. “Yeah. I’ll… we’ll just make him look stupid, instead. All that fretting he did over nothing.”

#####

Argrave and Anneliese stood in the room alone with Hause. Sophia slept in another room not far from here. As much as Argrave would’ve liked to let her sleep as long as she liked, she might need to be quickly called upon to remedy the situation should their potentials unlocking cause more harm than good.

“It seems the day has finally come,” Hause said, a swell of unease and anticipation in her tone.

The goddess of potential fiddled with her hands as she looked between them. Even Argrave could tell there was a trace of guilt in the way she carried herself—like she expected reprimand from them, or perhaps she more simply knew the sheer scale of the devastation that’d been caused. Argrave was in no mood to cast the blame. This situation had been beyond them all.

“Shall we start? I mean, what do we actually do?” Argrave looked between Hause and Anneliese.

“Before I do, I’ll give one last warning.” Hause looked between them. “I know, perhaps, you are tired of my caution, but I won’t budge on this point. Argrave embodies judgment—and you, eternity.” Her face grew stern, and he clasped her hands together firmly. “It’s rare enough to find someone with innate potential at all. It’s ever rarer for my senses to be so very… vague.

“You could become something you aren’t,” Hause continued. “Given that it’s related to judgment, for example, Argrave might possess a power akin to Gerechtigkeit’s. Perhaps his mentality will change to better suit that ideal. I cannot honestly say what awaits him.”

Anneliese looked at Argrave, asking a silent question. He deliberated for a time, then nodded.

“The cycle of judgment is just a name, it’s not what he is. Gerechtigkeit—Griffin—is someone who’s been beaten down by the world, made into something monstrous after being used and abused. He can’t claim the role of judge, no matter how much he proclaims it.” Argrave glanced at Anneliese, seeking some support in his claims. “I think true judgment might be what we need.”

“I’ll concede that,” Hause nodded. “But you, Anneliese. Eternity is a frightening concept. You may become something that you cannot recognize—cannot conceive of. It may be as much a trap as it is something grandly useful.”

“I understand your point. Those words of caution are something that I, myself, have long pondered. I understand what Raven has been through, and more importantly the emotions that you feel warning me.” She paused, revisiting those debates she must’ve had with herself. “Nevertheless, it’s simply poor strategy to leave some weapons unused when the final day might’ve come. And should this be something that harms rather than hinders, Sophia has become extremely adroit at using her ability.”

“We appreciate the focus on informed consent, but we’re ready,” Argrave added.

“Very well then.” Hause closed her eyes, and then took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for what was to come. “Anneliese first, then. Am I right in predicting so?”

Argrave was hesitant, but he knew it was logically sound—he could better protect all present from unpredictable results with his blood magic. With an encouraging nod from Anneliese, he eventually assented.

Hause straightened her back, standing with clasped hands as if in prayer. “Then… please remain still.”

A spectral golden form emerged from Hause. When it did, her blonde hair lost all of its luster, aging and going gray immediately. Indeed, her whole form took on a husk-like appearance that was rather jarring. This golden form opened its eyes, shining a light upon Anneliese. The queen of Vasquer remained deathly still as had been instructed, and that golden form bridged the gap.

Argrave saw it reach out toward Anneliese… and the moment the fingers of that spectral form met Anneliese’s body, Argrave could feel a shift in the air. With it came a breath of spring… and a surge of shifting power.

#####

The moment that Hause’s golden form brushed against Anneliese’s body, something rather inexplicable took place. It was as though she, too, was divested of her body, and together they soared through a universe of endless possibilities. In brief flashes, she saw a myriad routes her life could’ve taken, and branching roads her life had yet to come to. It was impossible to comprehend, but it still fascinated her endlessly. She saw traces of people left unmet, friends left unmade, lovers left unknown.

Anneliese felt curious, but only that—she had no desire to live any other life than the one she presently travelled.

In time, they came to float adrift in an infinite world. Anneliese looked around, taking in the frozen fragments of the many lives she could’ve lived and those she might yet live. Those in the future were vague, in constant flux with every movement she made. Those of past choices were gray fragments, dead and discarded. She saw her own death in many, saw her leading hosts of Veidimen, saw her expressing affection for people she’d never even seen before.

“Here we are,” said Hause. Her voice carried with it the whisper of similar phrases—all the things she could’ve said, from ‘we’re here,’ to ‘this is the end.’ It was headache-inducing, hearing all outcomes.

“Is it always like this?” Anneliese asked, hearing her own question rephrased in myriad ways throughout this void.

“It’s seldom this intense,” Hause admitted. “Not even Raven saw such clear echoes of the past, nor the vaguest hints of the future. It means the totality of what you can achieve is heavy. Do you see it?”

Anneliese searched for what Hause prompted her to, finding nothing. It was only when she looked up that it came into sight. With the [Truesight] bestowed by Yinther, her eyes began to shake and burn as she witnessed something of such power that the truth threatened to break her mind. She lowered her head at once, panting heavily.

“…and that’s rather what I feared,” Hause said, kneeling beside Anneliese and consoling her. “What did you see?”

Anneliese swallowed, and yet in this realm of potential saw spectral forms of herself take half a thousand different actions to calm her pumping heart. In other realities, her heart wasn’t beating fast at all, or the sight had affected her so severely she broke out into a sweat. It all become so overwhelming it was difficult to discern which was entirely real.

“I saw a power that was…”

The words ‘equal’ and ‘superior’ danced out in the void, reflecting her uncertainty.

“I saw a power at least equal to the one Sophia carries,” Anneliese said. “Yet… raw. Untapped. Untamed. Unused.”

“You saw eternity.” Hause looked up. Even only seeing the reflection in Hause’s eyes, Anneliese’s vision stung. “There’s no denying that it’s a force equal to that of creation and destruction. Forever. Infinity. Always. Never shrinking, always expanding. That which always has been, and always will be. It’s no wonder that you perceive it so intensely. Fundamentally, it’s a force outside of the cycle of judgment that Gerechtigkeit and Sophia are forced to perpetuate.”

Anneliese decided to stop using [Truesight] altogether and looked upward toward where Hause looked. What she saw defied her preconceptions of reality—new colors, new dimensions, new sounds and new ways of being. It was everything all at once, existing forever and never existing in the same breath. Even if she wanted to describe to others the things she saw, she lacked the words to do so. She’d need to make new words entirely.

“Did Sophia and Griffin grasp something like this?” Anneliese questioned. “Were they exposed to the forces of creation, of destruction? Did they claim it?”

“You ask me questions I don’t have the answer to,” Hause said. “Lest you forget, I am a mere vessel for this power. What I do, I barely understand. But… yes.” Hause peered into eternity. “Seeing this, there is little doubt in my mind they must’ve interacted with a primordial force not dissimilar to this one. But whether they claimed it, or whether it was implanted within them by something like the Heralds… I cannot know.”

Anneliese felt a shudder as she tried to imagine bearing that eternity within her body. Nevertheless, they’d come here… and it seemed that would be the inevitable outcome.

“What do we do now?” Anneliese asked, afraid and excited in equal measure.

“Now… I finish the task,” Hause said, reaching back out toward Anneliese.

Anneliese floated adrift in the cosmos, awaiting what came next with bated breath. When Hause’s golden form touched her cheek, there was a stir in the air. Anneliese closed her eyes and waited for this power to be vested in her.

Then, as it had been before, they began to travel through that corridor of eventualities. Anneliese saw a million, a billion, a trillion futures regarding her and Hause’s actions. They flowed against the sheer might of eternity, probing and searching for purchase in its vastness. Eventually, however, the corridor began to flow so quickly, and trillions became quadrillions, quintillions, sextillions, the rate of branching futures expanding exponentially until…

Hause screamed “AAAAA—”

Then, nothing but the echo from the scream persisted. Anneliese found herself adrift in this expanse of futures, motionless amidst nothingness.

“Hause?” Anneliese called out.

No answer.

“Hause?!” Anneliese shouted louder.

Silence.

Anneliese turned her body about, searching for answers. She looked up… and just above, inches from her face…

Eternity watched.

#####

Hause crashed back to the floor, and upon seeing that Argrave leapt to action. He came to crouch just beside her.

“The hell?” Argrave demanded. “Are you alright?”

“It was too much,” Hause said, panting. Her figure stayed old and wizened, not at all reverting back to what it was. “It was just too much. It was too large to comprehend, too big to hold. I couldn’t grasp it, couldn’t comprehend it. Trying to tame it…” Hause laughed. “Folly. Pure folly. That thing is beyond any god.”

Argrave rose to his feet, looking toward Anneliese. She stayed sitting in the chair, slumped. Her eyes were closed. Argrave shook her leg, but received no response.

“Don’t move her,” Hause urged. “She might come back on her own.”

“Might?” Argrave repeated. When he received no answer, he shouted, “Might?!”

“I don’t know!” Hause answered, panicked. “We… we went a long way out. I’m… I’m not even sure where it took us. Perhaps she can find her way home—perhaps. If not… I can bring her back.”

“Then do it,” Argrave commanded, gesturing. “Stop jerking me around. This is Anneliese we’re talking about.”

“My power…” Hause exhaled, putting a hand to her chest. “The reason I was returned is because my power ran out. It’ll need time to rebuild, recharge.”

Argrave looked at Anneliese, in total worry. “How long?”

“Like I said, she might make it back on her own. If not… it’ll take me days. Maybe… maybe weeks.” Hause leaned up against the wall, out of breath.

Argrave nodded, trying to act like he wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “Then, it’s fine. Yeah, it’s fine. She’ll be back. She’ll be back any second now. Why? Because it’s Anneliese.”

Chapter 37

Anneliese gazed into eternity as it watched her, passing judgment in terms that she couldn’t comprehend or codify. Eternity, unlike its appearance, was rather similar to how Argrave described the suns. Anneliese could tell that it was alive, but it didn’t quite fit into the category. It was a fundamental being, an essence of the universe—or perhaps many universes. In this unusual, out-of-body state, she could perceive and interact with it.

By now, she figured things out. Hause’s power had been insufficient to help her take control of eternity. Considering the scope of the power that she felt, perhaps it could be no surprise that a mere god couldn’t tame it. This thing’s existence was so significant that Anneliese felt it could make Gerechtigkeit himself utterly irrelevant were the two ever to meet.

It was for that reason that Anneliese felt infinite curiosity and desire.

Hause claimed that all she did was unlock the innate potential that people carried within them. It stood to reason, then, that Anneliese might be able to unlock hers even without the help of the goddess. She had been brought here—from Anneliese’s perspective, that was the difficult part. But now that she gazed upon eternity itself… she allowed the part of herself that she’d largely tamed to bubble up into her mind unburdened.

Anneliese allowed the emotion of curiosity to rule her action.

Her eyes scanned the depths of this eternal existence. No matter how far they wandered, or how closely they scrutinized, there was never an end in sight. In time, her moments of silent scrutiny led her to hear the noises of eternity. It was quiet at first, but as she strained her ears she began to cry. Not just from pain, mind—from joy, elation. Anneliese heard every song that ever was, from the grandest symphony to the most heart-wrenching ballads, wrapped up all in one.

And having seen only two facets, she knew she had to see more.

#####

“She’s crying!” Argrave shouted, kneeling down before Anneliese’s figure, slumped in her chair. “Why is she crying? Hause? Explain!”

“I don’t know,” Hause shook her head in exasperation, exhausted. “It could be anything.”

“Yeah. Anything that makes you cry.” Argrave ran his fingers through his hair. “No, no, no. She’ll be fine. Come on. This is Anneliese. This is Anneliese we’re talking about. She can’t leave me. Just won’t happen.”

#####

Anneliese reveled in the ambrosia of all sensations emanating outward from eternity, and every second she did, came to better understand the magnitude of the entity she was dealing with. Like all professions, rather than feel she understood, everything she learned about eternity only served to educate how much she didn’t know.

Endlessness. It was impossible for a mortal to comprehend. The more that Anneliese tried, the more she comprehended that she couldn’t comprehend it. To hold this vastness within her body, to wield it as a tool… it seemed ridiculously laughable. At best, she could become part of it. At worst, she would be destroyed utterly beneath its majesty.

Yet… despite this, Anneliese still tried. The continued discovery of her own ignorance wasn’t a deterrent—rather, it acted as the fuel for her engine of perpetual motion. Her mind felt as though it was expanding as exponentially as eternity did. To comprehend this galactic existence, her mind became a galaxy unto itself, drawing motion from eternity just as the planets moved by gravity. Its existence was formidable enough that it propelled hers unto greater heights.

Then, finally, as if in a dream… all motion in her mind faltered, and all her thoughts died as they reached their inevitable destination. She didn’t need eternity. She would be crushed beneath its largesse, lost in its vastness. She lacked the capability—no one could truly tame eternity. But then… she didn’t need to.

After all, a fraction of eternity was still an eternity.

If she claimed one small part, one infinitesimally small piece, she would’ve claimed eternity itself. For no matter how many times eternity is divided, it remains eternal—such is its power. And with this thought and mind, she slowly raised her hand up toward it. Delicately, like plucking an apple toward a tree, she craned to grasp eternity.

Anneliese waited, waited. Eternity was endless, infinite. She couldn’t claim it on her own. But then, she didn’t need to. In the realm of infinite possibilities, a segment of eternity had already embraced her, already accepted her as its master. And when, finally, she came to this conclusion… a single spark of infinity leapt out, toward her grasping hand.

Anneliese seized eternity, accepting its acceptance.

#####

Anneliese spasmed and sat up, inhaling deeply and grasping at things around her. As if by instinct, her hand grasped Argrave’s own. He beamed brightly.

“See, Hause?” He looked at her. “I was never worried. Not for a second.”

Hause sighed. “Yes, right. You were never worried.”

“Stop lying, Argrave,” Anneliese said, panting exhaustedly. “Perhaps, now, you have some taste of what I experience every time you do something.”

Argrave clenched her hand. “This was different.”

“Is it?” Anneliese shook her head. “You just killed yourself not an hour ago.”

“Yeah, well…” Argrave sighed. “You’re alright. And that’s what matters. This was a mistake.”

“No,” Anneliese disagreed. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

Hause looked infinitely awed as she studied Anneliese. “Did you…?”

“Yes,” Anneliese declared, rising to her feet. “I did.”

“Did what?” He looked between her and Hause. “What did you do?”

Anneliese felt the Spark of Eternity coursing through her body—the smallest fragment of eternity, which was an eternity unto itself.

“Allow me to demonstrate,” Anneliese said. “To you… and Gerechtigkeit.”

#####

It all began with a gargantuan ball of fire that erupted from the fortified city of Blackgard. At first, people paid it little mind, because similar attacks had been pouring out of the city since this day-long battle had begun. It soared through the air, heading to where Gerechtigkeit fought with the god of justice, Law. His golden figure had been battered substantially, and it was clear he was on the losing end of the fight… yet still he stood, and that proved to be all that mattered.

Eventually, this tremendous fireball struck Gerechtigkeit’s flesh, impacting a chitinous portion of his ever-shifting body. In normal course, it would’ve exploded and its force would’ve dissipated, but moments later proved this spell would deviate very far from what was normal. The spell persisted, boring down as furiously and fiery as it had been when it first left the mountain at Blackgard.

The force and pressure from this continuous S-rank spell began to dig into Gerechtigkeit deeply enough that he took notice of it. It pushed into his body as if compelled by a magnet hidden in his guts, and no amount of resistance or defense seemed liable to change its course or make it dissipate. In the end, it was the calamity that yielded long before this spell did—he twisted his gargantuan, formless body out of its path, and let it carry on with an undeniable look of bewilderment. Only then did the magic within the spell falter—and only because its caster had unbound the spell.

Anneliese bounded down from the mountains of Blackgard in floating leaps, letting the enchantments of the white coat crafted by Artur carry her gently down. Already, what looked like tens of thousands of eye golems burst free of Gerechtigkeit’s flesh and pursued her. The calamity itself paid closer attention to her, made cautious by the display of power.

Those fell eye golems swarmed in numbers enough to hide the starry night sky above, but Anneliese arrived at the foot of the black mountains with relative calm about her face. Another mana ripple spread from her right hand, and she cast a single spell at all who came. The famed S-rank spell [Chain Lightning] erupted from her hands. Most spellcasters in the world would tell you the spell was supposed to hit a target and then strike another, halved in power until it became so small it was reduced to mere static.

Anneliese’s [Chain Lightning] never lost power, no matter how many it hit.

In one moment, there was a horde of Gerechtigkeit’s revolting children threatening her position. In the next, a curtain of electricity consumed the sky as her spell spread between every foe encroaching upon her. It sounded like a thousand lightning strikes all at once, and it looked like the wrath of heaven had emerged from her fingertips. It only ended when Anneliese made the spell stop. All that remained was a fine black mist, flowing upward toward the sky.

Gerechtigkeit broke away from his engagement with law with the animalistic ferocity of a gorilla, pounding across the earth in what Argrave had called his ‘liquid form,’ where his body was formless yet weaker than it would be later. Anneliese stood her ground, merely preparing another spell in her left hand. When she unleashed it, another bolt of lightning bridged the gap. The body of the calamity was beset by an electricity that never faded. It conducted through his body, the air, and all the ground he walked on indefinitely. It seemed ravaging and painful, yet the calamity never faltered even as it ate away at his body.

A colossal stinger rocketed toward Anneliese when the calamity was still a mile away. Anneliese cast a simple, wide-range F-rank warding spell designed to block out sound and nothing more. The moment she did, the lightning stopped rampaging through Gerechtigkeit’s form. Emboldened, Gerechtigkeit sent more attacks her way—lunging snake bites, spiked tails, swarms of insects….

The paper-thin curtain of warding magic spread out slower than the stinger coming to strike it… yet when the two met, it was the stinger that shattered, folding inward on itself. The force of the attack was so immense that it was crushed by its own power upon meeting with the ward. When the dozens of other attacks caught up, they, too, came away having broken themselves like eggs against a wall.

Gerechtigkeit slowed somewhat as he neared Blackgard—the mountains possessed enchantments recreated in the image of the Palace of Heaven in the Great Chu. The closer an enemy came, the fiercer they were repelled by an invisible force. The craftsmanship was such not even the calamity could fully resist it. Still, the entire weight of his form came slamming down on Anneliese’s feeble-looking F-rank ward. His horrific teeth gnashed, predatory claws pried, inhuman hands dug, and base flesh raged… yet it had the same effect as a single feather against a wall steel. Anneliese’s ward held.

In the end, others arrived long before that thin, pathetic F-rank ward had a single dent or crack. Law, shadowed by other gods freshly joining this fight, engaged Gerechtigkeit from the back. In response, his hideous form bounded away from Anneliese and Blackgard with tremendous momentum, landing a great distance away. Anneliese, having entirely predicted his flight, had already cast another spell. A guillotine of ice took shape above, then descended on the spot where he’d fled.

Gerechtigkeit tried to dodge, but the mass of him was huge and the other gods interfered. In the end, the cleaver of ice slammed down upon him from above. Every moment he attempted to resist it was another that the ice dug into his form, freezing blood and cutting flesh at the same time. In the end, he was forced to sacrifice part of himself to retreat, losing a not-insignificant portion of his flesh.

The calamity, He Who Would Judge the World, collected itself as its foes similarly took the brief moment of reprieve to get into a better formation. There was something that it—that everyone—recognized. The scales of the battlefield had tipped with the arrival of one person. Most knew this person, and those that didn’t were shortly made aware.

Anneliese, queen of Vasquer, daughter to Patriarch Dras, and the now-undisputed best spellcaster in the world stood in defense of her world and her dream for the future.

#####

“It’s everything I hoped for,” Argrave said with a tremendous degree of relief flavoring his tone. They stood on the mountains of Blackgard, watching down below. “What’s happened to her? What’s changed, exactly? This won’t hurt her, will it?” He looked at Hause.

Hause, once a young-looking blonde woman, retained the wizened features that Argrave had seen her possess when that golden spectral form left her body. Apparently, helping Anneliese had taken a tremendous amount out of her. She’d claimed that the repercussions for unlocking someone’s potential hadn’t been this severe since she’d done so for Raven. It spoke of the tremendous aptitude she’d brought out from within Anneliese.

“With my help…” Hause said, watching the battlefield with nervous eyes darting every which way. “Anneliese reached into the tapestry of eternity. She touched time itself, and managed to pull free a single fragment of eternity. Yet… do you have any idea what that means? Even a mere fragment of eternity is itself an eternity.”

“Yeah… yeah, sure. I understand.” Argrave nodded. “Half of infinity is still infinity. But will this hurt her—or anyone else, for that matter? We’re not going to be jumping through time, the world’s not going to end…?”

“She should be fine,” Hause said, shaking her head. “As for the rest of us… I don’t know. I simply don’t know. She could destroy the world with imprudence.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Argrave protested.

“From what I can see, she now carries that spark of eternity inside her very being. She’s made it her own, and that spark follows her orders absolutely.” Hause gestured down the mountain, where the fight had stagnated somewhat as both sides adjusted to the shifted balance. “You’ve seen the results for yourself. She can imbue any spell she wants with that spark—and until she recalls it, that spell never falters, never fades. With perhaps one use of earth magic, she could create tremors that upend the entire world.”

“She can clearly control it.” Argrave leaned down, peering at the fight. “She’s caused not a single bit of collateral damage.”

“Let’s hope she chooses to keep it that way,” Hause said in exhaustion. “Because I fear I’ve unleashed another monster upon the world. If she can imbue things other than spells with it…”

“What’re you worried about?” Argrave looked at her. “Indestructible objects? Invincible people?”

“Eternity is something that no one person was ever meant to possess. It’s unimaginable.” Hause sighed. “I can only hope that power vanishes once you figure out a way to travel through that wound in the world.”

“You sound very confident I actually will do that.” Argrave looked up at the crack in the sky. “Is it Anneliese’s ability, or something else that’s spurring that?”

“Erlebnis coveted my power because it was the closest thing to telling the future anyone has ever achieved,” Hause said in reminder. “Potential is that which someone could possess in the future. That’s what it is, fundamentally. Meaning… both Anneliese and Raven might’ve achieved this display of power without my help, given enough time. They might not have. Few people actually realize their full potential. I merely facilitated the process.”

“And?” Argrave pressed.

Hause looked at him, but it was more than that—it was like she was looking into him, through him. “Now that I’ve spent some time with you, I can see your potential shifting, changing. It isn’t because it’s becoming different; it’s because it’s nearing completion. It’s because you’re realizing your potential on your own.”

“What?” Argrave scoffed. “I don’t feel any different.”

“If you consider that your potential is judgment, it makes sense that it might coincide with an event coming soon.” She looked toward the wound. “It might make sense that you’d realize your potential when you hunt down Gerechtigkeit’s true body and eliminate him entirely.”

Argrave blinked. He didn’t especially like prophecies. They made him nervous. “If this is some elaborate pretext to back out of the deal…”

“Anneliese took a great deal out of me—you can see that much, I think,” she said as she grabbed at some wrinkles on her face. “It’ll take time for me to help you. If I recover my power enough, I’ll unlock your potential. I won’t renege.” Again, her eyes seemed to look through him. “Yet what I see tells me you’ll realize it on your own long before I intervene.”

Hearing that, Argrave felt a strange feeling. A responsibility, a burden, pressing down on him, moving him forward. He didn’t like the idea that any of this was all preordained. Only one thought gave Argrave comfort.

If his power was truly judgment… maybe he genuinely did decide how this all ends. Free of fate, free of the whims of higher powers, free of every malignant influence. Just himself, what he’d done, and who he was.

Chapter 38

“Argrave, the Hopeful is making steady progress through the southern valley,” Elenore told him, speaking directly into his head. “He’s already overrun a few of the checkpoints. The repelling enchantments we imitated don’t hinder him as much as they do others. Those shadows he projects seem to just… eat them.”

Argrave processed that information. He had hoped that when the Hopeful had consumed his flesh, the thing would’ve triggered the landmine Argrave had placed where his soul had once been. If the Hopeful had tried to read his thoughts, he would’ve received a burst of mental power equivalent to that of every living thing in the world. It wasn’t surprising he’d dodged it if he had the Heralds’ omniscience at his back.

“Sending me to die again, sis?” Argrave asked jokingly, but before she could respond continued, “Fine. I’ll deal with it. Tell Anneliese to be ready to send back vitality.”

Argrave cast one more glance at the fight against Gerechtigkeit. With the addition of Anneliese, the tide had been turned in this phase of the fight... yet above, a dark cloud formed of the ashes of his dying body, foreshadowing another battle yet to manifest.  Elsewhere, his willing and unwilling slaves crept inward on Berendar, costing them more and more lives by the second. Argrave could say they’d kept their bearings in the face of this ambush, yet the fight remained of yet undecided.

With a heavy heart, Argrave again headed for the rematch against the only foe that could truly claim to have beaten him. But Argrave had definitely let him win, so it didn’t count as a real victory.

So he hoped… and coped.

#####

When Argrave alighted upon one of the many checkpoints on the southern valley leading into Blackgard, he felt that feeling of death he’d confronted not hours ago upon seeing the Hopeful again. The bestial giant clashed with one of Law’s many Justiciars. The Hopeful broke its blade, shattered its armor, and let his hounds of hunger tear into the thing before looking their way. When his dark eyes saw Argrave, he could’ve swore that smile widened.

“Your Majesty!” the commander of the fort kneeled just beside him. His tone sounded flavored with limitless relief. “Your orders, sir?”

Argrave looked to him briefly. “Take everyone. Fall back to the next checkpoint.” He looked back. “I’ll deal with this.”

“At once!” the man said, more than eager to follow that order. Doubtless he’d seen countless of his comrades die before the Hopeful’s onslaught.

As the garrison evacuated, Argrave jumped down from the fort, falling slowly and gently. He stood with the gargantuan enchanted walls at his back, facing this monster alone. He felt the fear, yet did it anyway—Orion would’ve been proud, he was sure.

“I never knew quite how important you were,” Argrave called out as he walked closer.

“I never knew how good your fear would taste,” the Hopeful answered as he shambled closer, barely fitting into the narrow valley.

The monster’s physical body did seem somewhat weakened in the confines of this valley, yet his shadows—the true threat of him—roamed all but unfettered. His advance would be slow, yet inevitable, unless Argrave could put a stop to it.

“I’ve been making a study of you,” the Hopeful continued, straining against the invisible force pressing down on him with his tremendous grin belying the effort. “Of your mother. Of your father. Of the life you lived, and the reason it is you, of everyone, managed to reach this place. None of the others cared enough, but I had little to do but wait.”

Argrave knew he should attack… but frankly, his plan of attack hadn’t changed much, and he didn’t care to die young again. So he answered. “My father was the king, and my mother—”

“On Earth,” the Hopeful interrupted, a swell of deep pride in his tone. “The things that you showed me… that war, those weapons, those strategies… they evoked a sense of remembrance in me. They spoke of things I had forgotten, of memories that my own hunger had eaten through.” The thing fell to one knee, exhausted.

Argrave laughed. “So, what, you’re like me, foreign to this world? Or you’ve a lovely new trick to try on me—a nice new angle to get me to agree to some Herald deal? It doesn’t matter.”

“I am what you’ve seen,” the Hopeful answered back. “An aspirant. A beneficiary of the coming change—perhaps the primary beneficiary. A key to this cycle. A Hopeful. It might be said that the hunger all around is produced not by some supernatural phenomenon, but as a manifestation of the depth of my desire for the coming end.”

“Coming end? It’s a cycle,” Argrave pointed out. “One that you’re trying to prolong.”

“With chemistry, craftsmanship… sometimes, processes are repeated dozens, hundreds, thousands of times, even… to remove impurity. To perfect the product. Nothing lasts forever. Everything, always, is changing all the time.”

“So the world is steel folded one thousand times,” Argrave said with a shake of his head. “Why am I wasting time?”

Using his eyes, his hands, every drop of his being, Argrave unleashed a torrent of blood magic upon the Hopeful as he stood restrained. He could feel his link between Anneliese funneling back vitality into his system, replacing what he spent as quickly as it was lost. He scarred the mountains, broke the ground, and fought the shadows…

But the result was just as before. The shadows surrounding the Hopeful were simply too dense, too constant, for a single attack to reach his body.

“Why not prevail upon Sophia?” the Hopeful taunted, voice projected through his shadows. “Have her unmake my power, as she did Jaray. Why not use her power of creation as a fuel for your vitality, that you might prepare an attack of the same magnitude that initially struck Gerechtigkeit?”

Argrave stopped his assault, clenching his fists as they reconstituted. “My daughter is sleeping. She needs to be at her best when we take the fight to where Gerechtigkeit retreats—where the Heralds have stashed him. For you, I’m enough.”

“You’re enough? More delusions—both of kinship with Sophia, and of any victory,” the Hopeful continued, rising to his feet as he began his steady advance forward once more. “She’s using you as a puppet. Not by choice, mind you—by instinct. She’s as malevolent as Gerechtigkeit. Have you forgotten who her parents were? The blood doesn’t lie.”

“Hilarious joke,” Argrave dismissed easily. “If you’ve studied me, you’d know that I’ve overcome worse odds. You? You’re nothing.”

“You’re very amusing,” the Hopeful continued. “You’re a child who proclaims themself master of their sandbox, king of the playground. You’re a sow who claims emperorship over their enclosure, sovereignty of their slaughterhouse. A wiki editor? What a joke. The things you understand about this world are a fraction of what there actually is. Your betters are all laughing at you fumble about, acting like you know everything about anything.”

“I don’t care if they laugh, so long as they pay attention.” Argrave took a deep breath. “Hope alone is useless. You have to deserve what you want. And you? A baby bird, waiting with its mouth open for its parents to vomit food inside? You’re pathetic. I can’t lose to you.”

Argrave sent out his blood echoes from his body, abandoning the strategy of brute force that had so buoyed their cause in the past day. This wasn’t an opponent that power alone could beat—and more than that, he wasn’t someone suited to using brute force. He’d fought against Good King Norman what felt like thousands of times, and he’d eventually come on top.

This was no different.

#####

Galamon and Orion—two giants, one with hair as white as bone and the other as dark as night—stood amidst carnage, their backs to one another as they looked upon a calming battlefield with the sunset as their background. The barbarians had come in endless waves, led by gods emboldening their invasion of the Great Chu. Together, these two giants of war fought for hours and hours, acting as the immortal and untiring vanguard of a host of men and elves.

“It’s quiet,” said Galamon briefly.

“The earth shakes no more—neither from the stomping of our enemy, or the rage of that earth deity.” Orion looked around warily. “Do we move to another front?”

“This was the last.” Galamon wiped off his Ebonice axe of blood—where his fingers touched, the blood sept into his skin, rejuvenating it. Hause had brought back his vampirism stronger than ever, yet now he was its master rather than the inverse. “Well fought.”

“I should say the same is true for you!” Orion praised, kneeling on the ground as he surveyed the area. “You fought like a thousand men so that yours didn’t have to.”

“Patriarch Dras…” Galamon closed his eyes. “He held back. He let thousands of Great Chu men and women die so that hundreds of Veidimen could live. I’m ashamed of him. I thought… better of him, I suppose. Perhaps he wasn’t always like this, or perhaps I was simply blind.”

“Has he changed, perhaps? Or have you?” Orion asked ponderously.

“Hmm. Maybe he was always like this. But I met better.” He studied Orion with his white eyes. “Argrave. Anneliese. Elenore. You.”

“Your evaluation honors me. Argrave respects you greatly. It’s only today I saw the full reason for that tremendous faith in you.” Orion rose. “We should go, help restore peace. We cannot return to Berendar in wake of Raccomen’s death, but we can ensure that the Great Chu, at least, remains orderly.”

Above, both men whipped their head when a tremendous flash of light passed overhead. It was followed by absolute darkness, then a roiling storm cloud that covered all like a flood. Within that storm cloud, malignant energy brewed. Swirling vortexes of wind took shape within it, many threatening to descend.

“They said Anneliese had turned the tide of the battle, but… exceptional. Exceptional. They killed him.” Orion stared in awe. “From the moment I saw her, I knew my sister-in-law was something special. Even I couldn’t have predicted it to this degree.” Orion rolled his shoulder. “What did Argrave call this?”

“The second phase.” Orion twisted his axe in his hand. “It seems this lull in the fighting was temporary.”

“Indeed.” Orion nodded. “Before I forget, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“Ask,” Galamon said.

“Would you care to bring your family over for dinner, sometime?” Orion smiled. “My wife is a mite intimidated by Veidimen and the authority they have over the Great Chu, and I think nothing could help more than meeting a nice family. You could bring your boy, too.”

Galamon looked at him, sporting an extremely confused expression.

“Am I asking too much? Is it too soon?” Orion kneaded his forehead, smearing blood all over it. “My apologies—I’ve never been adroit at forming friendships. When you killed that tattooed god, I simply thought, ‘this is a man I’d like to have as a family friend.’”

Galamon looked back at the sky, which was growing ever fiercer. “Sure. Dinner. My wife is a good cook.”

“Really? That’s very exciting.” Orion smiled brightly. “I’m looking forward to it. Let’s wrap this up, work out the plans. How fun. How quaint.”

All around the world, it was becoming rather clear to people why this calamity affected the whole world. Berendar would remain its focus… but no one would be spared what was to come.

Chapter 39

Wielding the spark of eternity, Anneliese felt as though they finally had the upper hand in the battle against Gerechtigkeit.

As the intensity of the engagements around the continent lessened, more and more hands were freed up to fight against the main body of Gerechtigkeit. With Law as their heavy-hitter and countless others providing more than sufficient auxiliary fire, they finally had a strategy that could contain his seemingly-indefatigable assault. In contrast to the inhuman rage of Gerechtigkeit, they were all creatures of logic who went through life employing tactics and tools to overpower far more powerful beasts. This was no different.

Anneliese was the trapper, the shepherd. She kept the prey in line, prohibiting its movement with tactfully-placed wards from which it could not escape. Gerechtigkeit feared her wards, and Anneliese believed that fear was justified. If she could manage to trap him within one, it would simply be over. She snared his movement as her allies attacked, blocked his counterattacks as they repositioned, and dug sharp spears of magic when the calamity displayed vulnerabilities.

The spark she had wrested from eternity was a tool so versatile Anneliese almost feared her own power. A lightning that never ended, a tempest that never waned, a fire that never ceased, a seal that never broke—it was the stuff of legends. Were it not so singular, it might be comparable to Sophia’s power. Even as it was, nothing other than the calamity could hope to truly fight against it.

Yet even with the upper hand, the battle wasn’t without its share of losses.

The cornered wolf snapped and snarled as they tore chunks of flesh from its body, wearing it down piece-by-piece. In their desperate struggle, the battle surged upward through the valley north of Jast. The chase lasted hours. The narrow confines lowered their maneuverability, enabling Gerechtigkeit to all but escape up the road until he reached Dirracha. There, aid from the host of centaurs and the liches converged, warding the calamity from destroying the city entirely. Even still, half of the city was ravaged, either by golems or his own terrible power.

Thereafter Gerechtigkeit was forced west, toward Mina’s home city of Veden. Elenore assured Anneliese that its people had all but evacuated, yet nevertheless… the decision to pin Gerechtigkeit down on that location weighed heavily on her mind. It was strategically sound; they dealt grievous blows, but in the end, nothing remained of the city. Another sacrifice for a small victory.

A waning Gerechtigkeit tried to escape into the wetlands northward, but by this point all of their allies had gathered. Deities that were veterans of countless previous cycles descended upon his weakened forms like hyenas hoping to hasten a coming death that they might feast on glory and victory. In the end, it was one of Anneliese’s spells that extinguished him—a great bolt of white lightning that struck for eternity, dissipating his form into blackness.

Anneliese dissolved the lightning spell when he was gone, standing on a plain that looked much like the barren hellscapes she’d seen in the Shadowlands. Looking around her, it seemed this place had become a paradise for death. Burnt, ravaged by war, eaten by the calamity—Gerechtigkeit’s poison had seeped into the heart of Berendar. Those too young or too ignorant to know the truth appeared ready to celebrate… yet those that knew better looked to the sky, where the true trouble brewed.

One of Law’s Justiciars came to stand by here, a shadow of the towering golden deity that stood proudly and defiantly after the first phase of the battle was finished. He stared at the black storm clouds in the sky.

“How prepared are your people for the Trial?” Law asked of her.

“They know what to expect, at least,” Anneliese said, steadying her breathing. “But from what Argrave tells me, it isn’t something that one can truly prepare for. We must merely endure—and at a scale unlike any previous cycle.”

Above, the whirling vortexes in the clouds began to ripple with what had been promised for so long—fire. Fire as red as rubies, carried by the formless, sentient power of Gerechtigkeit. It began to entwine itself in the wind, in the clouds, in the rain and the snow… and spread itself across the whole of the land.

Droplets of fire rained down from the sky, one for every living soul. Anneliese could see ruby tears cut the sky like the blood of a god dripping onto the earth. She raised her hand up tentatively, feeling that one her eye followed would come to hit her. She didn’t move, didn’t dodge at all. The Trial by Fire was inevitable. No one had ever been able to avoid it. Gods of space, time, and all manner of arrogant beings had attempted to, but none had succeeded. Even with eternity at her back, she didn’t dare try, either.

The droplet of red fire touched the back of Anneliese’s hand… and with it came a searing pain so intense she howled in agony, falling to her knees. For an unimaginable time, her vision was reds and whites, and she was in total thrall to the pain. But as time passed, senses enough returned to look around. Around the world, the fire fell and consumed. It soaked into the soil, seeking those hidden underneath it. It crawled into homes, hunting those taking refuge. The pain was such even gods were reduced to worms, writhing on the floor with all the rest.

Anneliese thought of what Argrave had told her countless times, clinging to it to use her mind as a shield.

In the game, the Trial by Fire was just a cutscene. If you hadn’t done certain people’s quests, they wouldn’t be able to endure it, and you’d lose them. They’d break, or they’d choose to end the pain. Here and now, though… Argrave seemed to think of it. It’s harmless, functionally. A grand illusion. So long as people are aware, they should be able to overcome. Just picture how good it’ll feel when it’s all over.

Anneliese slowly got to her feet, even though she could barely tell her limbs were moving. She forced herself to keep her eyes open even as the flames consumed the world. The fact her sight didn’t fade confirmed to her this fire was a mere fabrication. She clung to her curiosity about how such a flame functioned, using that curiosity to ground her in reality.

But once we get through the Trial… Argrave had said. It’ll be the home stretch. One final fight… for this world, at least.

Anneliese stood up straight. She was the sole able to do so in this field of pain. Yet… there was another who was surely standing. She could feel his life, humming inside her through their connection. Argrave. He was as much an anchor to her as anything else. With so much support, she wouldn’t ever succumb to pain. So long as he was alive, she’d be able to live as well.

#####

Argrave’s attempts to fight against the Hopeful in a more strategic manner had proved to spare him a great deal of pain, but didn’t produce much in the way of results.

The crawl of the shadowed abomination was unending, unerring, even as the well-constructed enchantments of Blackgard suppressed him to the point he paused every few steps beneath the weight of it all. The Hopeful’s shadows, that foul manifestation of his hunger and desire, was both an unbreakable shield and an unstoppable sword.

All that Argrave could try, he did. He tried gathering vitality using lesser spells cast by blood echoes to fuel an empowered [Bloodfeud Bow], but it was insufficient. The issue lied in the fact that the shadows could actually consume his typically-impermeable echoes. He tried using them to teleport in, deal a punchy attack, and teleport out… but the Hopeful was far too adept at using his power to ever let that happen.

Argrave—having already surrendered two checkpoints—retreated to a third, watching the Hopeful as the thing slowly craned against the pressure exerted by the arrays of the mountains of Blackgard. Looking back, Argrave could see that not many checkpoints remained. Elenore had spoken to him little, trusting him to deal with this matter… but if this carried on further, they would be in genuine crisis. With that mounting pressure in his head, Argrave once again looked upon the smiling giant of shadow.

In power, Argrave was outclassed. In skill at using power, he was outclassed. Few people could offer usable assistance, and they were all caught up with conflicts on the other side of the world. To that end, Argrave considered every last idea, every last bit of power that he had—the Brumesingers, some trick with the Domain of Law, some divine weapon that had gone unused, but… each and every trick came up wanting before this opponent.

It was only when the sun began to crest above the mountains signaling the entire night had come and gone was Argrave reminded of something that had failed once before. There was a conduit within him—an anchor, partially formed of the silver knight that had once stormed Blackgard with far greater success than even Gerechtigkeit had exhibited. It resided in the spot his soul ought to be.

Argrave could feel it within his being. It was a subtle feeling, and he generally did his best to ignore it. It was essentially an instant kill to whoever tried to reach within. Argrave didn’t think he’d be spared its wrath if he attempted to meddle with it. It was the link to the souls of every living being in the world—a link to the new sun. It held greater mental pressure than the Smiling Raven had endured. It was intended as a defensive measure, yet…

What if it could be more than that?

Argrave could feel his mind probe near the entrance to that hellhole buried within his body. Even peering inward from the edge was the closest he’d ever come to death—one misstep, and his undying soul would be battered by the weight of the world. Nothing could save him, then—his soul would surely shatter, his body would become an empty shell, and everything would fall apart.

But Argrave looked at the Hopeful, creeping down the valley in long strides. He thought of those who’d already died fighting—first against Jaray, and now against Gerechtigkeit. He thought of Anneliese, who’d claimed a power so great it seemed liable to win them this whole war. The Hopeful had come here to parasitize this world—it was only fair, then, that the full weight of every living soul bear down on him.

Above, black storm clouds filled the sky. Argrave knew what came next—the Trial by Fire. He inhaled as he realized what Anneliese had managed to achieve thus far, further sealing his conviction. He looked at the Hopeful again, the weight of what he was considering making his breathing heavier. The Trial affected all, even gods—it would surely affect the Hopeful, too.

Argrave was no stranger to pain. He found his power in it, and had developed thick calluses from the sheer amount blood magic caused. Perhaps, as ever, he might find his opportunity in the heart of it. Given all that he’d already endured… perhaps the Hopeful would prove himself less capable of enduring the Trial.

But even if he could punch through the shadows, Argrave would need an attack he was certain would end it all in one blow. 

Argrave descended from the checkpoint, alighting again in the valley. He was heedless of the calamity raging above them, casting its pain-bearing fire to every corner of the world. Gerechtigkeit’s intent was to break lesser people beneath pain as he reconstituted for the final fight. But pain was Argrave’s bread and butter, and if he could truly get the whole world at his back… perhaps hope could be stolen from the shadows.

He faced the Hopeful once again. This time, his resolve to die was somewhat more genuine. He reached for that conduit buried in his body, preparing to use it as a weapon. And with his will steeled, he walked toward the shadow as the fire of pain came to cover the world.

Chapter 40

With the world aflame, Argrave walked toward the shadows of the Hopeful. The tendrils of darkness writhed like snakes embroiled in conflict with their own tails, and beyond, Argrave could see the smile of the Hopeful. His ever-constant grin was somewhat marred as he ground his teeth together. The fire had overtaken him, too, yet his shadows raged and fought against it.

“It’s easy to endure when you know what waits beyond,” shouted the Hopeful, his voice nearly drowned out beneath the sound of fire and wind.

Argrave said nothing in response, all of his thoughts focused to a single-minded pinpoint. He could feel the pain that the Trial by Fire brought, but his mind was already shifting gears to block it out. Argrave conjured the artifact staff Artur had imbued into his flesh, and its black and gold form took shape.

He grasped what had once been the Resonant Pillar in his right hand, while his left cast a spell. The whole of his arm exploded into gore, and the staff responded to his will and collected the blood magic inside. It projected the spell out like a spear, and with a swing it projected its power outward. It fought back the shadows like a scythe cleaving through wheat, yet they still advanced as constantly as the ocean tide.

Argrave swung the lightweight staff in simple, crude arcs, and the resulting waves of blood magic bore a hole deeper into where the Hopeful waited with the fires of the Trial lighting his body aflame. Though Argrave’s mind felt muted and dulled by the pain, he could tell that his initial theory was proving sound—that the Hopeful wasn’t as adept at using his shadows during this Trial.

Argrave felt hope well up in his chest when crude waves of shadows assailed him without the skill and finesse that the Shadowlander had displayed in earlier clashes. The strategy was reminiscent of the rote brutality that he, himself had employed—casting out power without an inclination toward strategy, fighting without any concept of the consequences. Pain made people dumber, rasher, more instinctual. Even the supposedly-enlightened master of the shadows wasn’t immune to this fact.

Argrave, though… this level of pain was just a warm-up for him.

He sent out one blood echo in an area where the shadows seemed less dense, then moved to it using [Echo Step]. He was given some reprieve from the never-ending waves of power before it all came rushing back in a panic, attacking from all sides. He was in the center of the whirlpool, but fortunately, he had some experience dealing with it by now. Beyond shearing through it all with his blood-imbued staff, he sent out pulses of blood fire that ate away at it all. The crimson flames blended into that created of the Trial by Fire, disguising his attacks.

Walking through this marsh of shadow, fire, and pain, Argrave advanced step by step toward the immobile Hopeful. The giant figure—perhaps seeing the merit of Argrave’s strategy—reached into his shadows, condensing it into a sword. He thrust it toward Argrave quickly enough it was too hard to dodge. Argrave felt countless things split open and tear as he was thrown backward.

But Argrave landed, eventually, and when he arose his wounds were already healed and his determination hadn’t wavered an inch. He leaned on his staff as the flow of vitality revitalized him, then began his steady march back into the mire. He kept a better eye on the Hopeful, whose wariness had also reached a high. His opponent had forgotten his tendency to taunt, to jeer, and instead held that makeshift weapon at close attention.

Argrave marched, step by step, with his eye fixated on his target. He claimed a path through this jungle, bushwhacking his way to his destination. The Trial by Fire seemed a secondary thing, by this point—the pain was enough to drive men to suicide, but to Argrave, it merely seemed like a good opportunity to pull a reversal of fortune.

When next the Hopeful attempted to swat him away, Argrave responded by using Garm’s eyes to cast a spell. His vision faded as the blood magic consumed his very eyes, but when sight returned he saw the Hopeful cast backward, his left hand holding his right. Black blood gleaming like crude oil dripped from a small cut on his hand, fading away to the fiery hellscape all around them.

Some of the strongest blood magic Argrave had only left the tiniest cut in his foe’s hand. The odds were certainly against him, yet if Argrave could touch this Shadowlander… he would try to call upon the bomb tucked away in his body. Physical contact was the only way this might work.

Argrave made more active use of his blood echoes, prevailing upon short bursts of [Echo Step] to dodge the reckless waves of power the Hopeful used. Both of them seemed burdened, weighted by gravity—if not for the earth-shattering displays of power coursing about them in the form of shadow and blood, it might seem a fight between sluggish old men.

But with the virtue of pain on his side… Argrave won ground, bit by bit, where he never had before.

The Hopeful fought fiercely, but with both the pressure of the magic arrays in the mountains of Blackgard, the burden of pain brought about by the Trial of Fire, and the constant pressure Argrave applied… at some point, even his overwhelming power and skill faltered. Argrave reached not ten feet away from his legs, and then the giant slammed a fist down upon him like a panicked attempt to stop a bug.

Argrave dodged, and the impact shattered the earth all around. With a half-stumble, half-lunge, he reached his long arms out and placed his hand upon the wrist of this abomination. It felt like he was touching something repugnant, something fundamentally at odds with this world. Then, he plunged his will into that dark hole at the heart of his being. Like a needle versus a balloon, it passed through easily.

In that moment, Argrave felt the whole world explode from his heart.

The unconscious minds of every living thing burst from the link that Argrave had established up there in the sun. Their souls probed the confines of his body—the watching eyes of trillions of living things, witnessing the whole of him. They didn’t examine him alone. They crept to Argrave’s hands and flowed into the Hopeful as though they were trying to fill a vacuum.

The scrutiny was intense and all-consuming. It felt as though trillions of worms crawled through his brain and flesh. They saw everything—everything that he’d done, everything he’d thought, every memory he had, every action he’d taken. They deprived themselves of nothing, these figments of souls. Every intimacy, every embarrassment, every triumph…

The unconscious minds of trillions saw Argrave. And as was the nature of life, they judged.

Separate, the judgment of these souls was a small force, easily disregarded. Yet so tightly compressed, the small wings of these butterflies touring his life’s achievements became a tornado bubbling inside his body. His mind bent, broke, battered and contorted as their judgment rejected so much of what he had done, cast shame upon all of the mistakes they felt he’d made.

But for every soul that thought him shameful, despicable… there were ten others who held a different viewpoint.

Rather than reject, they attracted him—they countered the terrible rejection of those others, keeping his mind intact even as it threatened to break beneath the weight of it all. In the end, what had promised to be a complete and total shattering of his mind now became one where the thousands of souls around the world had seen what he’d done, learned him completely and utterly…

…and accepted him.

When Argrave came to his senses, a haunting voice so loud that it promised to break his eardrums railed against him tremendously. He staggered, leaning on his staff, before he focused on the commotion. The Hopeful writhed, golden light shining out from his eyes and mouth like as though something within was bursting out. He screamed in a disjointed voice that rumbled the earth.

Just as with Argrave, a figment of the unconscious minds of every soul had penetrated the Hopeful. The general population of the world had deemed Argrave more acceptable than objectionable, and by consequence he’d kept his life. By contrast… Argrave didn’t need to be able to peer into the thing’s head to see what was happening.

All the living judged the Hopeful as someone objectionable. They judged him unworthy of life.

The Hopeful spasmed about, craning against the restrictions of the array. This judgment seemed to cause him infinitely more pain than the Trial by Fire had. He dug his ebon fingernails into his eyes and clawed at his own skin as the golden light inside continued to glow brighter and brighter. Looking around, Argrave could see the shadows thinning, slowly being overtaken by the flames of the Trial by Fire.

Eventually, the Hopeful settled on his knees. The glow slowly faded from his body, but the damage it’d left was undeniable. His left arm fell limply to the side, while his right stayed gripping his head. He’d dug his fingers so deeply into his own skull that his right arm couldn’t relax its grip. From the twitching, the eye movements, the spasms… there was still life in the body yet, but Argrave couldn’t say the Hopeful still existed.

That smile had faded. All that remained was the empty shell.

Argrave raised his staff up, empowering it with more blood magic. The blade atop it rose higher, and when it had grown taller than the thing it was meant to cut, Argrave swung it. The magic cleaved straight into the empty shell the Hopeful had left, and though it met some resistance… the body was bisected. He stared at the remains for a long, long while, checking for himself if the thing was well and truly dead.

Argrave hadn’t been too enthusiastic about democracy, but after winning the popular vote, he could confidently say he loved it.

Argrave looked toward the sky, where the Trial by Fire persisted even now. It wouldn’t be long until there was an ending to things. He couldn’t say what their chances were, but… now, it was only a clash between destruction and creation. And with the world having seen and embraced him, he felt markedly more confident.

Chapter 41

Raven pulled away from the wound in the world from which Gerechtigkeit had emerged, his study complete. Though the Trial by Fire affected him as much as any other, the unique form of pain it caused was something he could easily ignore. It always took a great deal of pain to morph his body, and over the many centuries, he’d grown used to the sensation.

It certainly hadn’t impeded him in tracing what laid beyond the wound.

Raven’s gaze followed the long cut that had left its indelible mark in the sky. Any attempts to move through it produced no results, and any attacks directed at it phased through like it wasn’t there. It was impermeable, untouchable… but not beyond understanding. As he’d predicted, travelling through it required a method of movement no one alive could replicate. To chase Gerechtigkeit and end the cycle permanently would require Sophia to remake someone in a manner that would make them compatible with this portal. That was the only foreseeable route.

“Elenore,” he said, speaking in his mind through the link established. “I’m ready to prepare Sophia. What’s the situation?”

“The Trial by Fire is abating in the more distant continents, and the fighting is resuming. Argrave’s killed the Hopeful. Anneliese is fine. Blackgard is still quiet, safe. You can enter through the southern valley. There’s a lot of Shadowlanders, but they’re all on our side. I can safely say we’ve won that fight.”

“I’ll be there immediately.” Raven cast a glance at the sky, then began descending with [Absolute Movement].

Moments later, he felt great tremors cutting the air and opened the eyes on the side of his head. Miles away, a gilded white saber cut the air with the speed of a meteor. Instinct screamed at him with enough ferocity he simply stopped thinking. Raven whipped his body around and swung his obsidian staff, while hands spawned from all over his body and conjured wards. The blade pierced his S-rank shields like they were porcelain plates, and when it met his highly-compressed obsidian staff, shattered it. The white saber punched a hole in his chest and sent him spiraling downward far faster than he’d intended.

Before Raven had even hit the ground, his formless body compressed to heal the hole in his chest. It abruptly split back open as the sword reversed course, abating much of his momentum and leaving him suspended in the air. What looked like an automaton modelled after a white horse and a long-maned rider came into his view. It had four arms, the second pair just below the first. The rider of the automaton caught the sword with its right arm, galloping through the skies like it was the natural course of things.

Raven corrected himself by recasting [Absolute Movement], diverting all of his attention toward this new arrival. Its approach was as swift as the blade it’d thrown at him, and he felt that death might be the inevitable outcome when they clashed. He readied a spell, yet before its matrix could even close the rider was already upon him.

It sword arm swung twice, halving Raven’s body with each. He completed the spell, fortunately—a shamanic spell, meant simply to teleport him the hell away from this monstrosity. The spirits whisked him away… until he was abruptly torn from the spell by the automaton’s grasping hand. It had intercepted his shamanic magic, and he peered right into its face as it clutched him with vice-like white fingers. Its face was that of a monkey with eyelids stretched open by clamps, and a terrible frown split its face. In those eyes, he saw the cold fury of Gerechtigkeit. It raised its sword up, preparing to end him.

A red blur slammed into the both of them, freeing Raven of its grasp. He kept his eyes trained on the thing to see it swat aside one of the lunar dragons with one arm. Its second pair of hands wiped the saber it held, imbuing it with white cleansing fire. It looked liable to utterly destroy that lunar dragon, but before it could, another joined—Lorena. She hammered her hammer-like tail against Gerechtigkeit’s automaton in a tremendous burst of energy while the other dragon sped off into the distance.

“Lorena will hold the Zanti,” Elenore’s voice instructed him. “Fall back to the Shadowlanders. They’ll buy more time. He’s hunting you—don’t forget that.”

Raven had only a few moments to heed that instruction before the thing Elenore had called the Zanti caught Lorena’s tail, dragged her down as effortlessly as a towel, and swung its sword straight through her gigantic dragon body. When Raven was again claimed by the spirits, he heard a roar of pain and witnessed the leader of the lunar dragons split in half, showering blood and gore.

Raven anticipated the coming attack every second the spirits whisked his form away. One second, two, three—then, a sharp pain, and a tremor of force that echoed through his whole body. The Zanti had struck him instead of grabbing this time, and when Raven slammed and skidded against the ground, he understood why.

While Raven fixed his thoroughly-battered body, the Shadowlanders worked in total unity to fight the Zanti. With the leadership of the white-haired woman who’d inherited the genius of their greatest historical figures, their coordination proved an incredibly devastating force. Grasping tendrils restrained while ebon projectiles assaulted this terrifying cleansing force, and flying figures controlled the sky with glancing blows.

In response, the Zanti held its upper arms to the sky. Whirling vortexes of fire coalesced in a single ball of blinding white fire that seemed a peer to the golden sun in the sky. The lower arms clenched the saber by its heart, as if in prayer. Then, it thrust the blade up, piercing that white fire. The sword absorbed that mass of flame in an instant.

When the Zanti thrust the sword down, Raven had sufficiently recovered to use his spirits. He transferred himself toward the southern valley of Blackgard, and for the first time proceeded unimpeded. It was only upon reaching the active array beneath the mountains of Blackgard that he was blocked. He stood at the mouth of the valley, peering ahead into the utter destruction the Hopeful had left in his wake. He ran, manifesting eyes on the back of his head.

Where he’d been moments before, a tornado of that cleansing white fire had risen up. It ate through the unified ranks of the Shadowlanders like nothing else had before. Even amidst the chaotic nightmare of that tornado of fire, he could see the Zanti break away, pursuing him single-mindedly. It reached the entrance to the valley the same way he had, and though the arrays impeded its speed, it was still faster than him by many magnitudes.

“Argrave wants you to trust him, and keep running forward no matter what you see,” Elenore said into his mind.

Of everything, it was only those words that brought some hope to Raven’s mind. He redoubled his sprinting efforts, sprouting legs until he was a match for a centipede in his mad dash. He passed through battered, broken checkpoints, and ahead, began to feel an incredibly unsettling power. The path ahead started to be obscured by a familiar crimson mist.

Raven ran and ran, pounding his thousand makeshift feet against the uneven stone. He watched as the Zanti spun its saber through its fingers, sending white embers dancing through the air in increasing frequency and intensity. Its fire burnt away what little debris remained of the checkpoints, purifying everything it touched until nothing remained.

Before long, everything ahead was a rich red while everything behind was a blinding white. Raven trusted in Argrave despite the ominous signs, diving headfirst into the whirlwind of power that seemed as deadly as the one behind him. When the Zanti came close enough to slice at his haunches, he still persisted, driven by faith.

Then there was a shift in the air, like something in the world had broken and snapped. Ahead, a power of the same magnitude Argrave had initially struck Gerechtigkeit with exploded forth. A bolt of energy wide enough to fill the valley burnt the air and shattered the earth, far surpassing the speed of that dread automaton. Even despite it all, Raven kept running headfirst into doom, keeping as low as he could.

Death came… and passed Raven by.

As he’d been instructed, he never stopped running. The bolt missed him by such a thin margin that the tremors as it passed by still cut him in half a thousand places. The Zanti, though… it halted, turned, and attempted to exit the valley. Aided by the expelling force of Blackgard’s arrays, it rode away, then upward toward the sky. Though that ultra-powerful bolt of blood followed, it seemed likely to escape.

Until, that is, a single F-rank ward intercepted it.

Anneliese, appearing almost from nowhere with the aid of spirits, met the terrifying automaton and Argrave’s blood magic head-on. She cast a ward, ensnaring the foul thing. And then, a great explosion of blood magic and white fire consumed the sky. Raven saw no more after that. He passed by Argrave, who seemed to be gathering himself.

“Good luck,” Argrave said simply as Raven passed him by without slowing a beat.

Raven fled, eager to complete the final piece of this puzzle and destroy Gerechtigkeit utterly. Argrave, though, walked to confront the final fight before the end of things.

#####

Argrave had felt some very genuine terror when he learned that Raven had nearly died. That call had simply been too close. Argrave had consumed the body of the Hopeful with his blood magic, and that had given him vitality sufficient to create an attack strong enough to damage this incredibly power Zanti. Anneliese had blocked the retreat, and they’d earned a significant blow.

And yet Argrave knew the thing wouldn’t die that easily.

In truth, Argrave was surprised to see the Zanti. In Heroes of Berendar, this had been a deific form Gerechtigkeit assumed to fulfill a doomsday prophecy that had taken hold. The so-called Zanti was prophesied to descend and bring the most virtuous age upon the world with its cleansing white fire. Another trick to exploit the people, but one that Argrave hadn’t allowed to taken root. He supposed Gerechtigkeit couldn’t pivot from centuries-prepared plans that easily.

Elenore spoke of torch-bearing white giants heralding that same cleansing flame in the rest of the world, continuing to devastate the people of this world. They conjured armies of impermeable angels that wrought hell everywhere they passed. They could only pray the others would hold out, but on Berendar… here would be the true fight. As black blood and white fire dissipated into the air, he laid eyes upon the Zanti.

The automaton stood in the center of the valley, its white metal cracked to reveal some of the black malevolence of Gerechtigkeit. Its white metal was only a shell. Once they cracked it, the beast within was just as terrifying. But opposite him at the entrance to the valley, Anneliese stood her ground. Others joined her, pinning the thing down.

That monkey-like face faced Argrave. He could tell that it would stop at nothing to break past him. Argrave, though… he’d stop at nothing to break it, pry Gerechtigkeit from that shell, and finish this once and for all. 

Chapter 42

Griffin stared at Argrave, who stood defiantly in his tattered black coat deep within the valley leading to Blackgard. In truth, Griffin himself had done appreciably little to come this far. Most everything had been the work of Argrave alone—wresting Sophia from Sandelabara, depriving the Heralds of their voice in this world, putting an end to the ambitions of the Hopeful… all his own feats, even if he had some help along the way.

Of the foes Griffin had fought during his previous descents, there was no one he thought could take his place. None could endure what he had without surrendering to the will of the Heralds. Lorena had her chance, but in the end, they’d broken her. Raven had nearly risen so high as to contest the Herald’s power, but he succumbed to insanity and lost to a coalition of gods. Lorena had saved him without his knowledge and salvaged his mind, but he’d never again seek that power—instead, it’d paralyzed him with fear. There was only one person Griffin thought capable of taking his place. It was an egoistic answer, but that didn’t change the fact it was true.

Only Argrave could endure what Griffin had and come out the other side opposing the Heralds.

Griffin respected Argrave more than anyone. He came from a soft, prosperous place where the largest danger to people was themselves alone. Despite that, the moment he’d awoken as Argrave he came alive. He acted with cunning, expending boundless energy toward a single end. When he discovered other ends were possible, he pursued them with a moment’s doubt. He didn’t hesitate to steer the path of the world, with or without its consent.

It was alarming to watch Griffin’s plans unravel one by one. Argrave’s influence spread like a plague across Berendar, and then eventually the world. He destroyed, he rebuilt, he established, and overtook all the existing power structures, making them his own. The sum total of that effort stood before him, poised to clash with all its being. Nothing could please Griffin more, facing a foe that he respected.

But respect would not faze him.

Griffin spurred the automaton he’d crafted into motion. This Zanti had been inspired by a myth from Argrave’s home realm—it was the tenth, final incarnation of a god prophesied to bring about a new era of virtue and truth before its ultimate dissolution. In design, it was a collection of all the knowledge Griffin had learned watching the denizens of this realm craft automatons. It used his own being as its fuel—and with that peerless fuel, it bridged the distance between him and Argrave incredibly quickly despite the suppression of the arrays in the mountain.

Argrave shifted on his feet, but Griffin didn’t waver in the slightest. The Hopeful, one of the most powerful beings in the world, had been forced to hobble uselessly in this valley. His Zanti already proved itself far stronger than that. He only needed to break past Argrave and follow the route to Blackgard. Had Anneliese been standing in his way, this would’ve been a problem, but she was behind. Argrave could certainly hit hard, but his defense wasn’t as absolute as hers.

Griffin came to Argrave, his upper right arm holding the white saber high. The moment it began to slice down, Argrave vanished, employing his [Echo Step]. Griffin found his location in a millisecond, then threw the saber in the next. It spun through the air like a sawblade, moving so quickly it appeared like nothing more than a white blur. Argrave couldn’t have reacted… but he predicted, teleporting again moments after.

Griffin felt a burst of blood magic behind him, and whipped around to see Argrave had used his new favorite spell, [Godkiller]. With a burst of cleansing white fire and a swipe of his hand, the magic shattered. Even still, it cracked the Zanti’s hand, revealing more of Griffin’s formless being. His saber danced through the air, returning to his hand, and Griffin clenched it tightly.

“I fought your father, Norman. He was faster,” Argrave goaded, regrowing his arm. “Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. A lot of sons are just pale imitations of their father. You’re his spitting image.”

Griffin took the taunt with amusement alone, enjoying a secret joke. Instead of continuing to clash, he stuck to his goal. The Zanti sped deeper into the valley. All up ahead, he saw the results of Argrave’s preparation—blood echoes spread everywhere, like bloody ghosts haunting this ruined path. Rather than blindly waltz into an ambush, he held his three arms out, burning away some of his essence to bring forth that cleansing white fire. Opposite him, Argrave appeared with [Echo Step], preparing three spells—one from Garm’s eyes, and the other two from his hands.

Argrave’s black-blooded magic and the Zanti’s purifying flames rose up in devastating contest, shattering the earth and rocking the mountains. Argrave’s magic was strong enough to resist, but not enough to truly oppose. Griffin won more and more ground by the second… but every second he spent was another that those behind advanced. If Anneliese and her Spark of Eternity arrived, it could well be over.

With a final flourish when Argrave had been completely overpowered, Griffin ceased his contest of power and barreled forth with blade raised high. He brought the saber down to cleave, but Argrave conjured the staff Artur imbedded into his being. Griffin’s saber met the staff, breaking it out of Argrave’s hand and continuing on to cut off his right arm and right leg. Argrave, though, didn’t flee. Instead, with a spark of insanity in those gray eyes of his, he reconjured the staff into his left arm, and swung it into the Zanti’s face.

The latent ability of the Resonant Pillar activated, delivering a blow of the same strength Griffin had just delivered right into the metal body of the Zanti. The automaton was sent tumbling backward in a heap, and a fragment of the metal mask broke away. Some of his essence leaked out, but he restrained the rest inside and regained his balance.

“Much uglier… without the mask,” Argrave sputtered, coughing blood as he leaned against his staff, unable to balance with only one leg. White fire persisted on the cut, impeding Argrave’s regenerative ability. Griffin saw opportunity.

Should’ve struck my legs, Griffin thought of that taunt to reply, but without a mouth to say it, had to leave it unsaid.

He ran into that minefield of blood echoes spread throughout the valley. Never before had Griffin seen Argrave employ so many of these specters at once. They were more than showpieces, too—Argrave continuously appeared before the Zanti, magic at the ready. His injury, still burning with white fire, proved to worsen his ability to effectively use spells like [Godkiller]. For a long while, Griffin made nothing but progress, passing by broken checkpoint after broken checkpoint.

Eventually the Zanti’s flame died, however. By the time Griffin reached the area where the Hopeful had perished, Argrave returned in force. His strategy improved by leaps and bounds—the blood echoes he didn’t end up using expended themselves, becoming blood-infused [Electric Eels]. Soon enough, between great schools of eels soaring through the sky and Argrave’s own assaults with [Godkiller], Griffin found himself slowing, stagnating.

Rather than allow Anneliese and the others time to catch up, Griffin decided to utilize his now-substantial lead to do what would ultimately be best— killing Argrave’s body outright. The suppression of Blackgard’s arrays was a truly formidable advantage for Argrave, but Griffin was confident he could win. Without Argrave’s body present, he might win it all.

Griffin kept careful track of all the blood echoes near, doing what his father never had—learning Argrave’s tendencies when he teleported. His opponent’s intention was to stall for Anneliese’s arrival, and Griffin took ample advantage of that fact to gather information. Slowly, he pieced together subtle habits, tells, and recalled all the other fights that Argrave had engaged in.

Then… all at once, Griffin felt as though he’d entered Argrave’s mind.

Griffin charged, swinging his saber predictably to bait the Resonant Pillar. He feinted, making Argrave teleport away in panic. He attacked with a burst of white fire where he knew Argrave would next be. The blinding fire subtly concealed Griffin’s true attack. He threw his saber where he was certain Argrave would appear after dodging his flames. He felt a burst of triumph as his blade sliced straight through Argrave’s waist mere moments after he teleported, sending his upper half spinning through the air.

Griffin leapt, conjuring a blast of fire to burn Argrave away. Before he could, however… Argrave’s body vanished, whisked away by a blood echo. Griffin scanned the surroundings, but saw no sign of him. He might’ve scanned more with his omniscience, but that would take some time—time he lacked.

With no more opposition, Griffin tore through the valley with reckless abandon. The array in the mountains oppressed him harder than ever, yet he felt utterly unburdened as he came upon the checkpoint at which the Hopeful had failed to pass. With a single swipe of his saber, its metal gate shattered. His effort redoubled toward the next, and he utterly ignored its garrison as he similarly crashed through its gates.

Barrier after barrier, obstacle after obstacle… Griffin broke through them all, until he finally saw the last gate. He feared an attack from anywhere, everywhere, all at once. But in the end, he reached its gate the same as all the last, and with a tremendous burst of white fire, burnt it all away in blinding, purifying life.

Griffin walked forth into Blackgard, taking in the city from a new view. Its orderly, peaceful streets, its immaculately maintained fields, its estates and farmhouses, its amenities and utilities, its parliamentary hall… it was utterly serene. The only thing disturbing Griffin’s view was Argrave. The king of this city stood, whole and healthy. He’d changed into new armor, and appeared fully rejuvenated.

And in his arms rested Sophia, Griffin’s sister. The reason he’d come here at all.

Chapter 43

“Are you sure you’re alright to do this?” Argrave asked as he stared at the last fort standing between the southern valley and the city of Blackgard. The last thing keeping out Gerechtigkeit’s present avatar—a terrifying force of nature.

Sophia watched ahead unwaveringly. “It’s what you’d do… right, dad?”

Argrave eyed her. He’d never actually heard her call him ‘father’ or ‘dad.’ He didn’t want to demand it of her—he had no right to force the title out of her, even if it was something he wanted her to feel comfortable saying. In the end, that long wait had been worth it. It carried far more weight than if he’d simply demanded it.

“Well, maybe not when I was your age.” Argrave inhaled deeply. “I’d be playing this scenario out with action figures instead of actually living through it. The reality is a lot scarier.”

As if to prove that point, a great destructive noise echoed over and above the fort, and Sophia tensed. Elenore fed him more information, but in truth he paid them little mind as he waited for Sophia’s next words.

“I don’t want this to end,” Sophia said simply. “If I can do that… I want to.”

The last fort burst wide open in a white inferno that turned stone, wood, enchantment, and even the closest parts of the mountain all to ash. Golden embers drifted through the air as that four-armed centaur automaton walked through, its body cracked and exposed in parts where Argrave had managed blows. It took in the city almost in awe, before focusing those terrible eyes it had on the pair of them.

Argrave put Sophia down, keeping his eye on this opponent. Inside the city, the restraints of the array upon their enemies would totally cease to function. Proving this point, in a blink of an eye the Zanti was upon them, his arms grasping futilely at Sophia. She stared up at the thing fearfully, yet unflinchingly. It was as if there was an invisible barrier around her. Argrave, meanwhile, thrust his hand out with a spell at the ready.

He used [Godkiller] up close. His arm burst into gore as it always had, yet before it could even strike its target all his flesh and blood returned to him. The Zanti only briefly diverted its attention away, slapping half-heartedly at the magic with one arm. Instead of the former outcome, its arm was utterly repelled, and the bolt of pure blood magic slammed into its body. The centaur automaton was sent flying away at breakneck speeds, propelled out toward the coast. It split the water before being lost in it, sending a great wave outward into the sea.

Raven had taught Sophia three things while Argrave did his best to hold back Gerechtigkeit’s final card. One, she’d learned to imitate Jaray’s power. She could no longer hurt anything, but nor could anything hurt her—the god of politics proved to be of some value to them in the end. Second, she’d been taught how to funnel her power of creation into the wellspring of Argrave’s vitality. Like this, he’d stacked another modifier atop his blood magic—the power of creation, of life itself. There could be no more potent fuel, as that one brief exchange had proven.

And thirdly… Sophia had learned how to allow Argrave to pursue Gerechtigkeit through the wound in the world. All that remained was sending the calamity back there to finally break the cycle.

“Are you okay?” Sophia asked urgently, having seen his arm explode. “Did it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” Argrave lied, tousling her hair. “You?”

“No. Just a little tired, like back then.” She shook her head.

“Alright.” Argrave looked to where Gerechtigkeit had been hit. “Then… time to pull out all the stops.”

Argrave walked up to the coast with his arms held out, bringing into being thousands of blood-infused [Electric Eels] which been ranked up to use a higher volume of both magic and blood. Through the haze of pain such spells caused him, he found himself half-listening to all that Elenore told him—the people coming, the strategies. She understood, taking the burden as sole strategist. Nothing but his total attention could stop the coming beast. 

With eels pulsing around him in rings and providing protection from any rapid approach, Argrave stopped and scanned the coastline. As he watched, the ocean itself began to boil, sending steam into the air and obscuring the distance in a dense mist. The instant Argrave saw a shift in the air, he knew what was coming.

White fire erupted upward from the earth as the Zanti came back like a comet, dragging its blade upon the ground and leaving a huge emptiness in its wake. The automaton led a vanguard of white fire that ate all it passed by. The whole of the harbor vanished, and shortly after it countless homes. Argrave brought forth every last cell in his body toward one singular end—blocking the coming attack.

From his eyes and hands, from all the blood echoes he could conjure, Argrave’s blood soared to meet that seemingly inexorable cleansing flame. His body died and came alive again what felt like a million times a moment until the two opposing forces slammed against each other. The sheer might of their collision created a shockwave dispersing the energy in every direction. Nearby buildings simply shattered, great orchards flew up into the sky, entire fields were torn into wastelands, and countless great peaks of the mountain crumbled, creating rockslides that threatened to bury the city.

Both the Zanti and Argrave confronted each other in the calm heart of that storm of chaos. Argrave swung his staff imbued with a bloody blade at the white saber that slashed at him callously. The white metal saber met the blade of blood. Argrave’s magic was so potent it cut through the blade, cut through the hand holding it, and severed the upper right arm of the terrible machine in one swing.

The Zanti stumbled slightly as Argrave turned to face it, looking between its severed arm and Argrave in what was obvious surprise. Gerechtigkeit’s black essence spewed out of the hole, coalescing into a tail-like lance that pierced Argrave through the chest before he could even see it attacking. A black poison took root in his body, spreading throughout it and making him wither from within. Eventually, Gerechtigkeit retracted his appendage, but the poison persisted.

Enduring it stoically, Argrave prepared for another clash. Instead, the Zanti turned, galloping deeper into Blackgard. Argrave conjured more [Electric Eels] after they’d been expended in the clash, sending them after his retreated figure. Undoubtedly Gerechtigkeit intended to threaten him by going after Elenore… but if the calamity had taken the time to look back, he could see Argrave smiling even with blackened, rotting gums.

A bident soared toward the approaching automaton. In the next moment, Raven teleported to it—it was the divine weapon Admiral Tan Shu had once used. Alongside it, he bore countless divine weapons, brandished in hundreds of arms that made the automaton’s three seem paltry by comparison. Empowered by these countless artifacts, Raven swung, stabbed, and flailed down upon Gerechtigkeit. To say the least, it was not as the first clash.

The Zanti was sent crashing to the ground as it had once sent Raven. The impact it left was deep enough that parts of the city began to fall away into the nearby river. There, Argrave’s bloody eels finally caught up with him. The red electricity blackened and melted the impeccable white metal of the automaton, sullying that savior’s shell the calamity sported. With no more eels to control and the poison fading, Argrave sped forth as fast as he could with [Echo Step].

Purifying fire rose up in an enraged attempt to wash away Raven utterly. The man threw the bident stolen from the Great Chu once more, prevailing upon its teleportation. The Zanti looked like to either chase Raven or proceed to the parliamentary hall, but he never got the opportunity. The smallest cut of shadow appeared before it, and in the next moment, a Shadowlander blade stabbed at the thing’s chest. It was fast enough to leap away, but not fast enough to avoid damage. The blade claimed one of the legs of the Zanti, then vanished back into the Shadowlands like Traugott so often had.

Before Gerechtigkeit could even respond, another attacker scored a blow—Dario, hidden away in the mountains, fired a mechanical weapon of his design empowered by spirits. A javelin intended to hunt whales slammed directly in the center of the horse like body of the creation. It was a particularly brutal blow, as if the man took offense at Gerechtigkeit’s imitation and adoption of his people’s art of automatons.

Moments after, the Shadowlander appeared again. As if advised by foresight, the Zanti whipped its body and gripped the blade, yanking the perpetrator out. That white-haired Shadowlander was the one responsible. He gripped her neck and jammed an elbow straight through her chest, breaking her. Then, its third arm lashed out at the portal, digging its fingers in before it could close. With a pull, Gerechtigkeit somehow tore open the Shadowlands, revealing the portal’s creator. A burst of white fire exploded into the Shadowlands moments after, killing any and all unfortunate enough to be nearby.

Argrave attempted to smite the wrecked automaton with another [Godkiller], yet Gerechtigkeit’s black essence cracked like a whip and batted it into the distant mountain. Artur’s Hall of Enchantment was directly hit, and in the resulting rockslide buried the entrance of the building while much of it seemed to collapse inside. In the next moment an eerie black hand attempted to grasp him, but Argrave instinctually lashed out with raw power.

By the time Argrave realized the attack had been a fake-out, the Zanti had already nearly made it to the parliamentary hall. Dario fired another javelin from his post with impeccable aim, yet Gerechtigkeit caught it as if the attack were a joke, throwing it back with animosity. Cleansing white flames began to build all around him as he proceeded. He was the closest he’d ever been, but Argrave didn’t hurry. Instead, he stopped altogether.

Argrave breathed a deep sigh of relief as a faint ward began to rise up out of the parliamentary hall. Anneliese, rather than chase by foot, had taken the Shadowlands. Before ever even fighting Gerechtigkeit, they’d dropped her off in the heart of the parliamentary hall to protect Elenore, their nexus of communications. With Anneliese’s Spark of Eternity, all those within would be totally safe.

A great horde of Shadowlanders began to fill the broken city from the portal Gerechtigkeit had wrenched open, uncoordinated yet bloodthirsty in the wake of the deaths of their two greatest proponents. Argrave felt a great surge of vigor in his chest, and looking behind, saw Law marching in from the southern valley, bringing with him his Domain of Law. Other great gods joined him, eager to avenge those that had fallen. Argrave himself never ceased creating electric eels for a moment, as he prepared to end this.

Looking upon that wrecked automaton, with all his allies at hand, victory felt close at hand.

“It’s all so tiresome,” came Gerechtigkeit’s voice—fatigued, resigned, disappointed.

The body of the Zanti fell like a lifeless doll, clattering quietly.

“Surgical precision is an ill-suited method for me,” he continued. Argrave saw subtle waves of darkness on the edge of his vision, and could predict what was soon to come. “But it brought me here. That was more than enough.”

Argrave felt a rising nervousness which he expressed as a smile as he awaited what came next. For the people of the world, the final stand came—for Argrave, though, this the beginning of the end. Griffin had abandoned the Zanti. Without that shell, all that remained was ending his very essence.

But as the earth tremored and the mountains trembled, the planet itself seemed to reject the coming coalescence. It was a power that didn’t belong in this world.

Chapter 44

“So long as you stay with me, Sophia, you’ll be fine. Ignore everything that comes for us, no matter what form it takes.” He held her small hand in his, preparing for what was coming. “I won’t let go. You can’t, either. He’ll try everything to break what you’ve created. But we won’t let him, will we?”

“No,” Sophia said defiantly yet fearfully.

A terrifying, fleeting power had permeated the city of Blackgard. Everyone could feel it, and some had even experienced it before. Still, no one was fully prepared to experience what would come this cycle, not even Argrave. It had the heat of a flame, yet his body remained the same temperature. It had the weight of the planet, yet exerted no pressure. It tasted and smelled like everything, even when there was only saliva in his mouth and air on his nose.

All of the buildings ahead began to warp and distort, folding inward on themselves, curving eternally into the sky. The mountains surrounding them rose high enough to pierce into space while descending deep enough into the earth to pierce the dwarven city of Mundi. Even Anneliese’s ward, sustained by eternity, couldn’t fully resist what was coming. It sphere became a universe unto itself as the Spark of Eternity fought a power that was its peer… or perhaps it superior.

Sophia’s power was that of creation. It could bend reality. Griffin’s power was that of destruction. And her brother’s power had as much mastery over reality as hers did.

Gerechtigkeit’s reality-bending power made the world around the instrument of his destruction. It could master and control everything outside the domain of creation and life. Dirt, stone, metal, cloth, water, fire, lava, even the wind—these blank slates without a spark of sentience were the perfect vessel for his consummate desire. And with them in hand, he brought forth not merely a hell… but everyone’s hell. Up, down, left, right—they became meaningless distinctions in this world of nightmares.

The rows of buildings twisted into mockeries of people he’d once known. His distant cousins, nephews and nieces, his parents, all made into incestuous abominations that clambered toward him, melting like wax with every step they took.

“You’re happy,” they whispered at him, their faces all smiles. “Can you share it?”

Argrave’s might’ve forgotten they were foes without the presence of Sophia, who squeezed his hand tighter in fear from whatever personalized nightmare she was facing. He used blood magic, clinging to the pain to ground him for what needed to be done. His parents screamed in agony as he severed their body limb-by-limb, as he watched them bleed and spasm from his attacks with light draining from their eyes. Their corpses remained, like a reminder of his sin.

White-haired children clawed at Argrave’s boots, their eyes amber and their ears elven. Each and all had umbilical cords still attached, leading back to a putrescent bloated woman with Anneliese’s face. Beside her stood himself, but instead of his own face, he bore that of Anneliese’s biological father’s—her mother’s rapist.

“Daddy!” the children sang. “Love me! Love me like mommy!”

Argrave felt rising bile in his throat as he prepared to wipe away what he saw. His children broke his legs and tried to eat his calves as he hesitated, and it was reason enough to purge that disgusting image with more blood magic than was necessary. 

A sharp pain pierced Argrave’s back, and when he grasped at it pulled free a knife from his back. He looked toward its source to see Elenore, sitting atop Orion like a bench. His brother clenched Anneliese’s face, crushing it like a melon as she screamed in total agony.

“I never loved you,” Elenore said. “Not once. You’re more of a dog than he is.”

Induen, Levin, and Felipe III rushed at Argrave like frenzied ghouls, and Argrave’s blood magic raged against them with tremendous struggles. They cut his arms off near as much as he himself used them for blood magic. Sophia’s vitality kept him whole, but Argrave felt battered and broken, and he stumbled upward through time.

Sophia ran out at Argrave through the dark, and he squeezed his hand to reassure himself the one he saw was merely an illusion. She looked panicked, terrified. Before she could reach Argrave, a giant bird’s foot slammed down upon her. The Smiling Raven tore out her guts with its beak piece by piece as she screamed, and already Argrave prepared blood magic.

“I only wanted the power of creation,” the Smiling Raven said, bearing Raven’s face on its head. “You were always nothing.”

Argrave blasted it with as many [Godkillers] as he could muster, but no matter how many he sent forth it continued to devour this false Sophia as she screamed. With his final blow he wiped away both of them, and stood there immersed in his pain to keep him sane. He felt something wet strike his cheek, and looked up with an attack at the ready.

Sophia, though somewhat older, hung from a noose, her wrists sliced open. Her dripping tears and flowing blood struck him with the force of bullets, nearly casting him to the ground.

“I’m sorry, dad. You couldn’t help me. I couldn’t forget,” she said sadly.

Beneath the weight of the assault, Argrave could only send forth blood echoes to fight back against this foul conjuration. It felt as though the weight of it might break him, and it very nearly did as much in mind as it did in body. He had seen awful things—plenty of them. These, though, tore the fears straight from his soul and manifested them as reality. They were exact, and they were cutting.

“You failed us!” Galamon and Durran shouted, bearing down upon him with a host of Veidimen and southern tribals.

“You’re not fit to rule!” Vasilisa yelled, bearing the head of Archduchess Diana on a spike as she led her host of northern soldiers.

“Your name shall be stricken from history,” Emperor Ji Meng explained calmly, arriving at the shore with a host even grander than the one he’d brought to their northern shores.

Argrave could see it all unfolding—Berendar becoming a destitute wasteland, wrought by war even in the wake of his victory. The continent was ravaged and pillaged and every great city utterly wiped away. Its people were killed and tortured by people seeking vengeance for the chaos Argrave himself had brought to them. They became barbarous animals, and Argrave the greatest example of hubris the world had ever known.

Argrave’s body split and broke, bent and shattered, cracked and burnt, twisted and disintegrated… yet somehow, somehow, he fought back all those insurmountable forces, those worming doubts made flesh.

At some point, however, Argrave’s blood magic met one of his one attacks. He stared in confusion, until he saw a figure walking out from the abyss.

“I was wrong,” Argrave said, staring at him. “I put in all this work, all this effort… spent millions, maybe billions of lives… and in the end, I didn’t fix a damn thing.”

“…fucking hell,” Argrave muttered beneath his breath, then cast out [Godkiller] once again.

Doubter Argrave neutralized it with a spell of his own, advancing ever closer as he continued to speak.

“Even after I beat myself, going through the wound in the world didn’t achieve much. The things that I was expecting to be there weren’t.” Skeptic Argrave cast out blood magic with the same reckless abandon Argrave did, and he could only backpedal while holding Sophia’s hand to avoid much of it.

“There wasn’t a solution,” Sad Argrave shouted over the carnage. “The reason the Heralds didn’t give a damn was because they didn’t need to. Honestly, what was I thinking? It was clear from day one that we were like fish in a fishtank. Even if a clever octopus manages to escape its aquarium, it won’t change the reality of the matter. We’ve lost the race before it’s begun. They’re just operating at a different level compared to us.”

Argrave imbued a tremendous amount of blood magic into his staff, and the thing began radiating with such an intense crimson light it warded away even some of the darkness persisting all around. He strode forth, swinging it straight at Pessimist Argrave. The amalgamation caught the blow simply.

“Defeating yourself won’t change anything. You go through the wound. You see the truth. At the end of the day, at the end of the road… the only thing you’re doing is killing yourself,” Depressed Argrave said, even as the blade of blood cut through its flesh. “Admit it. You’re wrong. You’ve never been right. You’re looking for that silver bullet, but it doesn’t exist, my man.”

Argrave headbutted Emo Argrave and used Garm’s eyes in the same instance, delivering a devastating volley of blood magic right into his face.

“Want a metaphor?” Cynical Argrave said, even as he reeled backward from the blow. “You were playing blackjack. You had one of the best hands you can get—a twenty. You had a hot wife, really smart family, you were king, and everybody loved you. You could’ve killed Gerechtigkeit. Wouldn’t have been perfect, sure… but it was damn close. And even with that hand, you asked the dealer to hit. You were looking for that ace.” The fake held his arms in an archery stance, and a [Bloodfeud Bow] took shape, gathering power quicker than Argrave could conceive.

“Now… I’m afraid you’ve gone bust.”

The false Argrave released the power that Argrave had so oppressed others with in the past—the might of the [Bloodfeud Bow], of all his lifeforce condensed into a single point. As it approached, he was near certain that his body would die. Even despite all of that, he stood firm, directing all of his attention toward the coming attack.

It seemed impossible to block. Perhaps it was a paper tiger—a dramatic show of force without much power behind it. Perhaps Argrave mustered more power than he ever had. Perhaps he instinctually grabbed Sophia and used her as an invulnerable meat shield before delivering a devastating counterattack. To be frank, even Argrave wasn’t quite sure what he did. He merely had one conviction in his heart.

I’m not wrong.

A great blast of power erupted from Argrave’s being, overbearing the approaching attack. The fake tried to defend, but all his magic seemed to fold away like a field of grass in the wake of this power. It tore up the earth, shattered the atmosphere of desolation and destruction, and seemed to reclaim the world of the nightmare that had consumed it.

By the end of it all, Argrave stood tall, still holding Sophia’s hand. Dark Argrave had fallen to the floor, pierced in half a dozen places as he laid there, dying. Unlike the real thing, he couldn’t reconstitute—he merely bled and died. With his death, the endless screaming, the constant pressure, the weight of the world—all had gone, and upward was again open sky instead of a never-ending nightmare.

Looking around, Blackgard was entirely gone. Nothing, not even the mountains, remained. Living nightmares died in every direction—giants, abominations, forces of chaos and destruction, all met their end without the fell power fueling them. Argrave couldn’t even tell how many had died. He saw his own corpse what must’ve been half a thousand times. He was rather touched so many people saw him as a nightmare.

Argrave feared that this would be another trick, another bait-and-switch before something awful appeared. Everyone else seemed to think this, too. Argrave saw Law, slowly rising from the corpse of dead gods. He saw Raven rising from the corpse of the Smiling Raven—and he was joined by Lorena, who Argrave had been certain was dead. Then again, perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised—she was a shapeshifter, so being cut in half couldn’t have been so bad.

“…Argrave?” came Elenore’s voice in his head.

Reminded of the situation, Argrave looked to where the ward protected Elenore and Anneliese had been. Hearing his sister’s voice had soothed some of his worries… but no matter where he looked, he couldn’t see her ward.

“Are you alright?” He responded back, kneeling down beside Sophia. She looked utterly exhausted, but she was still fully present. She gave him a wordless smile, and he returned it. “Is everyone alright?”

“The continent… the world…” Elenore’s voice was heavy. “It nearly shattered. But… it held. I think… I think we won.”

Argrave breathed a sigh of indiscernible emotions. He picked Sophia up, looking all around at this wasteland of corpses and devastation. As far as the eye could see, nothing had been spared this nightmare. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the damage this had caused. He looked up at the wound in the world. It persisted—and would, for some hours. The moment they verified Gerechtigkeit’s death, he intended to head through it.

“Argrave… please don’t act rashly, but… Gerechtigkeit came for Anneliese, hard.”

Hearing Elenore convey those words made every nightmare Argrave had endured feel like nothing. Even still, he felt their connection, felt her existence, still going strong. Artur’s artifacts still existed within both of them. That was the only thing that enabled him to listen to Elenore. Whatever had happened, Anneliese was alive.

“He knew of your connection. He must’ve sought to break her so he could break you. His power could slip by her wards, and she couldn’t escape it. She helped me and some of us in the shelter, then…” Elenore’s pause made him want to lash out. “You should come see for yourself.”

“I’m not keen on a suspense thriller starring the woman I love,” Argrave practically shouted in his head. “Just tell me.”

“She was forced to imbue her body with the Spark of Eternity,” Elenore said resignedly.

Chapter 45

As the chaos all around died, an eerie silence set over the world as if everyone, all at once, was contemplating what had happened. They all feared one another, even their closest allies, because moments ago they’d been fighting against them. Argrave searched this field of dead nightmares for Anneliese.

It became clear he was coming closer to her as the images he saw shifted. He saw her mother, her father. He saw himself, repeated countless times in dead bodies. He saw sights not so dissimilar to what he’d endured, but the fear of what had happened pressed him onward without taking much time to contemplate.

“Raven and Lorena will survey the world to be sure Gerechtigkeit is dead,” Elenore informed him. “…but from all I hear, it seems to be truly over.”

Argrave stopped at a gaping hole of writhing flesh, peering down into its depths. This was where the connection between their two artifacts had led him. He took a deep breath and jumped within.

What he saw… it made Argrave’s own battles seem paltry by comparison, insignificant. The twisted bodies and faces rising from the stone, the grasping hands and chewing mouths… Argrave saw faint traces of her magic still persisting. Ice crystals, sparks, fires, all the like. Finally, though, the bottom neared. He landed upon a huge mass of flesh.

Argrave looked around. The cyst-like growth was wide and putrid, likely having been born of the earth all around them. He hoped to hear Anneliese’s voice at any moment—even a call for help would be better than this silence. But as he tugged at the artifact buried within his body, he located the source of its response.

Just underfoot.

With that, Argrave kneeled, conjuring a dagger of blood and carefully carving away with urgent movements. When, finally, one pale hand revealed itself, he eagerly dove deeper. Strip after strip of flesh peeled away, at parts like cutting through fat and at others through bone. And as he did, he began to understand Elenore’s defeat.

She was alive, but… Anneliese didn’t move. Instead, her body was suspended in stasis.

Deep in the throes of denial, Argrave continued to free more and more of her figure. When he finally reached her face, her amber eyes open wide and her lips frozen into a faint smile, the last support snapped, and he accepted what had happened. She had been overwhelmed, and in a last-ditch effort, suspended her body with the Spark of Eternity. It gave her total invulnerability, yet…

Argrave didn’t know what to do. Rage? That was there, but some dim undercurrent kept him from losing himself to the tide of emotions that poured over him. Whatever her present state, she was alive. She could be brought back, right? She had to be. If she couldn’t be…

“Argrave…” Elenore’s quiet voice entered his mind, speaking delicately as if she feared what he might do. “Anneliese felt confident enough to do this because she knew you would still persist. That’s what she told me.”

Argrave couldn’t help but tear up upon hearing that. He stared into Anneliese’s amber eyes.

“She knew that you’d be able to finish the fight,” Elenore continued. “And you will be, right? For her? For all of us?”

Argrave swallowed his tears, his sobs, even though it was painful. He looked up toward the sky, where the sun of his design faintly sent light curving into this horrid place. The skies were again free of Gerechtigkeit’s influence. He could see the wound in the world—waiting, inviting, like a taunt.

“Just…” Argrave’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Just wait a moment, Anne. I’ll get you out of here. Then, I have to go.”

#####

Fortunately, Anneliese’s suspended form wasn’t trapped in that horrid pit—Argrave was able to bring her out of it, where others had already begun to gather around. He left her in the care of Elenore, then surveyed the surroundings as others gathered. Elenore brought a great deal of survivors here that she might coordinate their response and best deal with the aftermath. After all, she couldn’t be certain that she’d still have the blessing of connection if Argrave succeeded.

Law, Lira, and Hause were among the few gods to survive. Stout Heart Swan, Durran’s patron, and Yinther, god of curiosity, died at Gerechtigkeit’s hand. Even Veid in the Great Chu had fallen in the battle. The Veidimen were in a period of mourning. Argrave thought Galamon would be among them as her champion, but no—he was here with Orion, carried over by one of the lunar dragons.

At Argrave’s prompting, Hause examined Anneliese’s condition. She could offer no certainty, but mentioned the possibility existed that the Spark of Eternity might be untethered once Hause perished. While she hadn’t fully claimed the spark for Anneliese, she had been a contributing factor. Her death might conclude eternity’s grip over her. Hause expressed a willingness to reach that conclusion early. Argrave was sorely tempted, but it felt too wrong to actually go through with it.

After all, divinity as a concept might be ending shortly.

Leaving Elenore some time to strategize and coordinate, Argrave visited with those gathering in the broken ruins of Blackgard.

He saw Dario and Melanie, helping the dwarves evacuate out of their broken city of Mundi and visiting the surface for the first time in centuries. The sunlight and open air made some of them vomit. He saw Elias of Parbon helping coordinate the human survivors—his father remained behind, shepherding countless survivors toward this area. Argrave joined with a familiar pair, who both faced him numbly.

“Everything… gone,” Nikoletta mumbled quietly. “Mateth… nothing remains. My father…”

Argrave studied her. She’d lost an eye, and the wound persisted—no healing magic could close it, for it was caused by the god of pain. Even after he’d perished, it wouldn’t fade.

“You’re alive,” Argrave said, looking between her and Mina. “We’ll rebuild.”

Neither seemed to take solace in his words, and so he left them alone with their grief. He briefly joined with Orion and Galamon.

“How bad was the Great Chu?” He asked the two of them.

Orion and Galamon shared a glance, then his brother focused only on him. “Only a few cities still stand. Their people survived, but that’s about all I can say.”

“The Veidimen were barely harmed.” Galamon crossed his arms, speaking with an unusually angry tone. “I’m ashamed, even in my happiness. Patriarch Dras…” he shook his head. “I’ll never speak to him again. Not after this.”

“You’ll be welcome here,” Argrave said with conviction. “More than welcome.”

Orion grabbed his shoulder. “And how are you, Your Majesty? Anneliese…”

“She’ll be fine,” Argrave insisted. “I’ll be sure of that.”

“Right.” Orion nodded. “Good luck. For what comes.”

Argrave looked toward the sky as the lunar dragons ferried people over. According to Elenore, they’d been hit hard by the battle, but enough of them had survived to begin the revival of their people on this planet. The question remained, of course, whether or not they’d choose to stay on the moon. 

Eventually Argrave came to Durran, who sat alone.

“It’s not difficult to see how entire civilizations were lost after every cycle,” Durran said as greeting. “Everything… everything’s just gone.” He looked in the distance. “Mountains were eroded and remade. Cities were leveled, and the people inside them slaughtered. Libraries, archives—all of it turned to nightmares, and soon to turn to dust.”

And Durran was right. All around, these nightmarish corpses began to turn back into what they’d been born of—earth, stone, and other such things. It was a sign that Gerechtigkeit’s power was leaving this world.

“I imagine it was worse this time,” Argrave commented.

“Yeah.” Durran nodded. “Still. Imagine how many people, how many cultures, were just… forgotten. Lost. My people survived, but so many others didn’t.”

“I don’t need to imagine. I have Erlebnis’ knowledge in my head,” Argrave reminded him.

Durran inhaled. “I’m feeling markedly less soulful after hearing that.” He turned his head back. “Tell me if you need help with Anneliese.”

“Kill any weird people that hover near her,” Argrave instructed.

He looked over. “I can’t kill Raven, I’m afraid.” Durran shook his head. “All others… sure, fine.”

Argrave snorted, but took mental note of the fact that Raven had returned. It meant Gerechtigkeit was definitely dead.

“I’m looking forward to getting this mark taken off my neck.” Durran’s hand hovered near the spiral Raven had imbued on him—his life bet about whether or not Gerechtigkeit could be stopped. “So, go finish the job.”

“Right.” Argrave nodded. “Easy enough.”

Argrave took a deep breath, facing back where Elenore, Raven, and Sophia stood in guard of Anneliese. The tally of damage could be calculated after this last battle was finished. For now, he’d have to see if the plan remained as was. With steady, certain steps, he came to join him. His heart ached as Anneliese’s suspended body came into sight.

“So, do we stick to the plan?” he said as he walked nearer. “Or have you elected to send someone else?”

Raven studied Argrave as he neared. “I did consider putting my own name in the list. But in the end, you could probably kill me easily at this point. And you’ve proven… difficult to kill. I can’t think of anyone better suited.”

Argrave didn’t respond, instead kneeling down by Sophia. “Are you alright, Sophia?”

“Mmhmm.” She nodded. “Are you? Mo—Anneliese… she’s…”

“I’ll fix this,” Argrave vowed. “And if I can’t… maybe you will. Yeah?”

Sophia nodded eagerly. “Yes!”

“Heartwarming, but we’ve no idea what to expect up there,” Elenore said, cutting in with realism. “If you… if your flesh… I mean, if your body…”

“Dies?” Argrave finished.

“Yes.” Elenore nodded, a trace of pain in her features. “If you do… that, Sophia may have to return you here. I think we should move as soon as you’re ready.”

Argrave looked up at the wound in the world, closing so slowly as to be imperceptible. He took a deep breath, then looked at Sophia.

“Let’s begin, then.” He held out his hand to Sophia. “Change me.”

Sophia reached toward his hand, taking one of his fingers. She looked uncertain, gaze flitting between Raven and Elenore who both gave her self-assured nods. Then, Argrave felt a shift of power that he’d experienced before a great many times. It was the same sensation as when he was trapped in Sandelabara, constantly being remade every few hours.

Sophia staggered back, but Argrave bent and caught her quickly. “You alright?”

“I did it,” Sophia said, her breathing a little uneven. “I did what Doctor Raven said.”

“Good,” Argrave praised. “Great. Then, I can…?” He looked to Raven.

“You can travel through the wound,” Raven confirmed with a curt nod. “As Elenore said, I’d advise you move now.”

“Alright.” Argrave rose to his feet. “Won’t be long, Sophia. Just wait a bit. And…”

Argrave turned to Anneliese’s suspended form. He looked at her faint smile, and felt he knew what she would be saying, what she would be doing, in this moment. He touched her cheek, feeling the warmth.

“Talk to you soon, Anneliese,” he promised.

Argrave cast [Absolute Movement], feeling the wind encircle him. Then, he rose up into the sky, heading toward that dark cut in the sky. It grew more and more ominous as he grew closer. One could see it plainly, but could see nothing beyond it. It was much like the Shadowlands, in that fashion. Argrave hoped its condition wasn’t similar.

Argrave didn’t putter about gathering his courage to enter. He soared, Anneliese in his mind, right into the wound. Argrave felt himself move in a new fashion, a new way, twisting through dimensions in a manner that could be described in one fashion.

Oddly familiar.

Chapter 46

“Do you know what’s more agonizing than having tried to gain power, and failed?”

Argrave awoke with a start, throwing his head around as he scanned his surroundings. He laid in the grass, and upon orienting himself, rose to his feet as fast as he could manage. He stood in a wide-open plain, a single tree off in the distance.

“It’s to have unimaginable power, and then lose it.”

Argrave spotted the owner of the voice. It was a small boy sitting in the tree, with black hair and red eyes. From sight alone, Argrave recognized it was Sophia’s older brother—or at least, something bearing his image. He held his arm out and called upon his blood magic immediately, and his arm exploded as a bolt of pure power erupted forth toward the figure.

Yet… it passed through. Both the boy, and the tree. It continued onward toward the sky ineffectually.

“No hesitation killing a child? I like your style.” The boy jumped down off the tree, landing and staggering. “Still, a few Heralds probably clutch their guts, keeled over in laughter at the both of us. It’s a shame they’re arrogant.”

Argrave delivered one more attack for good measure, aiming it at the ground instead. Once more, it passed through effortlessly as though it didn’t exist. It was only once he accepted the situation that he straightened his back, focusing on this figure. His mind didn’t stop searching for answers, possibilities.

“Out there, we were Gerechtigeit and Argrave, two fighters in their prime. Inside, we’re both nothing at all.” Griffin looked around. “Still… with Sophia freed, this might be considered a pleasant prison. This place was meant to contain Gerechtigkeit,” he explained, his boyish voice serving to detract none of his seriousness.

“Contain you,” Argrave pointed, wracking his brain for solutions.

“Well, you, me. What’s the difference?” Griffin shrugged.

“A great deal.” Argrave looked around.

He began to recognize some distant buildings, and his heart sank. This was Sandelabara. He couldn’t forget it—he’d spent so damned long here.

“This is where I spent all of my time when the cycles were over. Only… it was different. Sophia and I shared a prison, in essence. Separate in body, united in spirit. We went through the same week, over and over again.” Griffin walked toward the city. “My torture and death. And then… I watched hers.” He looked over. “Changing that was one half of the deal I made with the Heralds when Lorena threatened things. I confined Sophia’s suffering to a three-hour period. I made her own memories of what’d happen disappear. It was the best I could find in that hell, with Good King Norman holding the reins.”

Argrave walked after him, searching for some weapon he might use. “Why not pick out three hours while she was asleep?”

“Sophia has nightmares,” Griffin answered. “Well… had.” He looked back. “You may have changed that. And considering recent events, I may have brought them back.”

“Nice job,” Argrave praised. “Very brotherly.”

“Hmm.” Griffin smiled, looking back at the city. “But she’s free. I’ll never be tortured again. No one will return. It’s just a prison, nothing more.”

“Can you kill yourself, maybe?” Argrave asked. “Save me the trouble of solving this conundrum? Hell, you could’ve done that from the beginning. Instead, I was just looking upon a hellscape. Billions dead. An infinite number, if you go back further.”

“I’m greedy,” answered back Griffin. “If I view something as mine, I’ll sacrifice anything to get it. I wanted freedom—and Sophia’s freedom, too. I don’t regret anything. Well… I regret losing. Your willingness to sacrifice won you the day. We’re alike, in that way.”

“I use my own flesh and blood—not that of others.” Argrave threw a rock through the air, but again, it phased right through Griffin. “Bastard,” he cursed in frustration. He wasn’t willing to accept this result.

“Yeah, true.” Griffin inhaled. “It’s interesting, though, the similarities. Or perhaps I’m just warping reality to fit my preconceptions.”

“Is that a hint of introspection I hear?” Argrave stopped in his tracks, thinking hard. “I’m nothing like you. Nothing.”

“Your rabid denial sounds so convincing,” Griffin said sarcastically, then sat on the grass. “But you’re probably right. I was very disappointed in you. Pragmatism was always your second choice. Even when I told you directly that you’d need to be pragmatic, you ignored my advice.”

“What, refusing to enslave everyone’s will?” Argrave inched closer, unsure if he might be falling into a trap of some kind.

“That, and other failures.” Griffin looked back. “You can’t deny it would’ve gone better if you’d done so. Jaray would’ve died so much quicker.”

“Your little scheming partner.” Argrave shook his head. “Were you actually going to bring him back?”

“Absolutely not,” Griffin said with a hint of laughter. “Well… maybe. If Sophia said I should, I probably would’ve.”

“Sophia would hate what you’ve become,” Argrave said pointedly.

“I know.” Griffin’s smile died. “It’s her nature, I thought. No matter what was done to her, she never resorted to anything truly evil. And what I did… maybe it’s mine. Maybe my nature prevails. Maybe I have my father’s venom.”

“You do,” Argrave confirmed.

“I thought so too.” He looked over. “But there’s you. A walking contradiction to that mindset. A nature, nurtured to nobler aims.”

“Felipe III wasn’t my father.” Argrave sighed. “I thought you’d picked up on that, given your peeping tom habits. This body isn’t mine.”

“It certainly is now.” Griffin smiled. “Besides, that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Presumably this is where you admit you’re my father,” Argrave took a few steps closer, preparing to punt the child.

Griffin scoffed. “I’d never let my son play stupid video games all day, wasting his life away filling out a wiki that maybe a couple thousand people even use while neglecting his studies.”

Argrave frowned. “We had over a hundred thousand unique visitors every—”

“I don’t give a damn,” Griffin interrupted. “Either way, I said I ‘was’ very disappointed in you.”

“Your disappointment is at the very bottom of my list of priorities,” Argrave said, emphasizing this with his hands.

“The second half of my deal I made with the Heralds to defeat Lorena was to allow my soul to live a normal life.”

Argrave started laughing. “Seriously? This is your angle?”

“There’s plenty of sense to the notion,” Griffin argued. “Why else would you have been so instinctually attached to Sophia?”

“Because she’s a sweet girl who suffered a great deal,” Argrave rebutted.

“Why else would you have seen glimpses of this reality long before coming here?” Griffin rose to his feet, wiping blades of grass out of his hands.

“You can’t see the future. Why would I be able to? They’re entirely unrelated,” Argrave dismissed.

“Why else would you, of everyone, come to inhabit Argrave’s body?” Griffin raised a brow, sporting a boyish smile. “Surely you don’t believe some higher power chose you.”

“Hell if I know why I’m here.” Argrave shook his head. “But I see what’s in front of me: a big problem I need to take care of.”

“Why else would you be just as powerless as I am…” Griffin looked around. “…in a prison designed to contain me?”

“Most prisons can be multi-use. They can hold people.” Argrave pointed to himself, then at Griffin. “Or they can hold animals, like you.”

Griffin sighed. “You can be annoyingly sanctimonious.”

“The truth tends to hurt.” Argrave shrugged. “You’ve no proof of this. No knowledge. Nothing but a big pile of coincidences, and a lot of good reasons to lie to me.”

“Even if it was true, would it stop you?” Griffin asked.

“Of course not,” Argrave laughed.

“If it was true, could you do what you suggested I do?” Griffin narrowed his eyes. “If your continued existence ensured the cycle of judgment, could you take your life, prove yourself no hypocrite?”

Argrave was brought pause by the question, but only for a few moments. “I think I probably talked myself into it, by this point. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not true,” he denied whole-heartedly.

“Good. That’s good.” Griffin nodded, looking relieved. “Whether or not it’s true… I honestly don’t know. But I did make that request of the Heralds. To live a fulfilling life, to live a life where I could die happily. And of everyone I’ve ever clashed with, you’re the only one who I think could endure all that I have and not be broken by the Heralds. And the only reason I can think of… would be that you’re me.”

Argrave scoffed in disbelief. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I was ten when it began,” Griffin answered. “Their accumulation of hatred. The daily visitation of suffering. The youth are… pliable, malleable. And after a millennium of that, I imagine you’d jump at the chance to vent your rage, to fight for your freedom.”

Argrave did feel some pity, but pushed it away. He couldn’t afford it. As Griffin himself had said, no matter what had been done to Sophia, she never resorted to anything truly evil. Griffin himself always walked the path he did.

“I hate all of you,” Griffin continued, and Argrave’s pity died. “Living happily, while they render me like a carcass. Experiencing the fortunes and misfortunes of life, while my sister and I choke beneath the stench of our own rot. They probably killed me more times than I killed any of you.” Sadness had long ago died in those red eyes of his. “Why us? Was it because we couldn’t be broken?”

“Maybe you haven’t broken yet,” Argrave said quietly. “But you’ve bent so far for them, you might as well be.”

Griffin didn’t break away from Argrave’s gaze. “You never bent for them. But there’s still time for your mind to change, of course.”

Drawn to the topic of minds, Argrave remembered one of the dormant weapons within himself. He could still feel it within his body, that anchor, that tether. It was connected to all other souls in the world. He could call upon it, he was certain. He could get all of the souls in the mortal world to assail Griffin and pass judgment. And knowing who he was, what he’d done… no death could be more certain.

Argrave took slow steps forward, trying not to betray any of his intentions. “What do you mean?”

“After this, the Heralds will surely come again. A negotiation. A bartering. They’ll offer you many things—many things indeed. They’ll offer you the right to live in both the worlds you call home—to enjoy Earth and the place you came from at the same time. They’ll claim that they can restore Anneliese back the way she was. They’ll offer to rewind the clock, bring back everyone that died.”

Argrave felt there wasn’t too much longer before he could touch Griffin and subject him to the judgment of the people he’d slaughtered wholesale.

Griffin sighed. “They’ll offer you the truth. How you got here, and what you are. What they were doing, and why they were doing it. Perhaps they’ll offer something so grand that I can’t even imagine it. Perhaps they’ll make all your actions feel so meaningless that you’ll be compelled to step up into their higher existence.”

“Nothing new,” Argrave noted, alarmed by the tenor of these statements. He spoke as though things were soon to change.

“Maybe not.” Griffin looked Argrave in the eye. “The strongest weapon we have against the Heralds is our minds, Argrave. Yours, mine, and everyone in the world.”

Argrave paused, wondering if his plan had been called out before he’d even attempted it.

“Take care of her.”

Argrave lunged out, but before his hands could grasp Griffin he felt a shift as something leapt out between their two gazes. Griffin aimed an attack at his mind, at his soul—or rather, where it ought to be. It was a feeble strike, but nevertheless broke past the flesh and toward the anchor between Argrave and every living soul.

At once, the full and unadulterated might of the world erupted out of Argrave’s being, assailing Griffin’s mind. Unlike the attack against the Hopeful, there was no period of judgment, no distinction between rejection and acceptance. It was simply the weight of the world counterattacking the one who’d tried to attack it. It must’ve been unimaginably painful, but Griffin didn’t even flinch.

Instead… a broken boy fell at Argrave’s feet, dead.

The wind stopped. Argrave stopped feeling anything beneath his feet, and soon enough, the whole of the world fell away. He found himself flailing in nothingness, seeking purchase in anything. Soon enough, he felt nothing at all, falling like that endlessly. The body of the broken boy tumbled through the air alongside him.

Moments later, though, he saw it emerge from the boy. Like a dying star in the night, like an all-consuming flame, like lightning, pain, misery—it was all of that and so much more. It was the end, the last, the final. It was the opposite of the power that Sophia wielded, now masterless.

It was destruction.

Soon the boy vanished. That primordial force and Argrave were the only two persisting in this broken world, falling without an end. It could be said the power he saw was the source behind all of the misery that they’d endured. He had every reason to hate it, to despise it. But at the end of the day… wasn’t it merely a tool?

A weapon, even. One that might be rather useful in a coming meeting.

Chapter 47

Sophia watched the sky with bated breath. All that remained of the wound in the world was a small sliver of blackness. She felt that, any moment, Argrave would burst free of it, triumphant. Everyone else nearby seemed to hold that same thought, for they watched with anticipation equal to her own.

Yet a sudden crash by her side jolted her attention away. She looked to see Doctor Raven, fallen to his hands and knees. His body warped and twisted. A second, far louder crash made Sophia look beyond. There, the golden giant Law leaned up against his sword. His body emitted a golden mist—or rather, it was more accurate to say it became a golden mist.

Hause, too, fell. Lira, every surviving god—it looked like they’d been cut away from the strings holding them aloft. The whole of them began to fall apart. As Sophia’s mind spun searching for the answers, another had already reached the conclusion.

“It’s starting,” Elenore said simply. “He’s done it. Divinity…” she looked to her patron, the wizened Lira, who had collapsed. Next, her gaze went to Raven, who seemed to be struggling more than the gods. “Magic. They’re fading. It means Argrave… he did it.” She held her head, wincing with pain. Sophia assumed she was losing her blessing.

Sophia again looked up, around, everywhere for Argrave. When she found nothing, she looked to Anneliese, hoping. Despite how everyone seemed to be undergoing some manner of change, Anneliese remained suspended. Trapped, her face frozen into a smile, her body unmoving and unchangeable.

Sophia felt her heart beat quicker and quicker as everything around began to undergo change. Her panic only rose higher and higher. If magic and divinity truly faded, Anneliese might not be able to bring back Argrave.

She sought counsel, but all of them—foremost among them being Argrave—were absent. Elenore clutched her head in pain. Orion writhed as his various blessings underwent their changes. Even the taciturn Raven barely contained the sheer pain from whatever he endured, gritting a thousand teeth in silence. Those few unaffected urgently tended to those who were, leaving Sophia alone with this situation.

Sophia felt tremendous fear. She wanted Argrave here. Yet she looked to the sky, beyond the wound in the world. She saw the sun. Argrave’s sun, that he had placed on high to watch over them all. It persisted, gleaming as brilliantly gold as the first moment it had taken its place in the sky. That had to mean he was still here, still present. He would know what to do.

Sophia didn’t want to remake Argrave. She feared her power of creation more than anything. She had made lives, and her negligence had resulted in their death. She had tried to bring Castro back, but all that she’d created was a hollow imitation. Raven had taught her much and more… but deep down, she knew whatever she created would still be but a hollow imitation.

The only one who could truly bring Argrave back was Anneliese. And if magic faded, that might never happen.

Despite her fear and panic, Sophia walked toward Anneliese. She reached her hand out, placing it against Anneliese’s. She felt the familiar warmth from the woman she wished was her mother, but pried deeper with her power. She searched for that which was keeping her in stasis.

When creation met the Spark of Eternity, Sophia withdrew her hand in shock. She looked up at Anneliese’s smiling face, wavering. Was that something she should toy with? She felt if she wasn’t careful, it might swallow her up. Yet… Anneliese had already braved that. She’d embraced it.

I’ll fix this, Argrave had said. And if I can’t… maybe you will. Yeah?

A world deprived of Anneliese, deprived of Argrave… it would be far worse than one deprived of Sophia. With that in mind, Sophia reached her hand out again.

Her creation reached toward eternity, and grasped it.

#####

When Argrave found himself staring at a familiar gray office keyboard that had the WASD keys worn down so much as to be illegible, he felt in equal parts a wave of nostalgia and repulsion. Looking around, he saw it all—his cheap wireless headset, his two monitors, cans of energy drinks on the desk despite the trash being feet away, and even his decrepit faux-leather chair…

“You must’ve missed it,” came a woman’s voice.

Argrave whipped his head to the left where the doorway to his room hung open. At its entrance stood a woman wearing clothes he hadn’t seen in a very long time—just jeans and a plain white shirt. Blonde hair, blue eyes… she had a very innocent quality in her beautiful features.

He rose to his feet at once, flinching when his head came uncomfortably close to the ceiling fan spinning above. Whether the synthetic light of the lightbulb, the constant noise of the fan, or the sound of the cars outside… it all made him uncomfortable.

None of these sensations could compare to the total absence of magic.

It was like losing the sense of hearing, of sight. He hadn’t realized how much magic had become a fundamental part of his perception of the world around him until he’d lost it.  Still, he’d spent more of his life without it than he ever had with it. He didn’t panic, didn’t lash out. He merely watched this woman, waiting for what came as he contemplated his options.

“Your home,” the woman continued. “Your parents. Perhaps you can smell the bacon-and-eggs cooking right now, if you walk outside. A full life ahead of you. Very little pain and suffering. The comforts and ease brought about by technology.” She took a deep breath. “You must miss those amenities, having gone without them for so long.”

He took it all in. Conditioning built through decades made him hesitant to break anything in here, even after being apart for many years. He should’ve known these people would couch everything in illusions and half-truth. But he was tired of listening to others talk, tired of bargaining for things someone should never bargain for

In the past, he might’ve listened. Now?

Argrave held his right hand out. “Let’s cut to the chase.”

With thought alone, an indescribable abyss took shape in his hand. Its mere presence bent and tore everything around him, expelling it outward and compelling it inward concurrently until the walls, the floors, everything, began to disintegrate. He rose his hand up higher and higher as that sphere of destruction grew larger and larger.

Even the blonde woman’s form began to shimmer, distort. In time her hair was ripped from her scalp, her skin from her bones, and all the parts that constructed a human. It stripped it all away, until the only thing remaining was a Herald. Argrave couldn’t perceive what he was seeing—it seemed to be an absence, a hole in the world not unlike the wound he’d travelled through to make it here.

As more and more of this world broke down beneath the might of destruction, his true surroundings made themselves known. All around, watching, were Heralds. Each were scars in his sight, not seeming to truly exist. They were holes in paper, cracks in the window, shadows in the night. All times before, they needed a host to latch onto. He had perceived them as that host. This was what they truly were.

In time, the terrible chaos wrought by the power of destruction waned. The Heralds seemed immune to its effects, much like Argrave himself. They kept their distance all the same. He didn’t know whether or not it was because they were endangered by it, but he kept his attention raised.

“Maybe there was some truth to what Griffin said,” Argrave shouted. “Because this is feeling rather natural to me.”

The sheer sensation of power at Argrave’s fingertips was beyond anything that he’d ever experienced. The full mental might of the world might be comparable, but this? It obeyed his whim, followed his orders, did his bidding. It had the potential to wipe away the whole world. If it was harnessed to better ends, nobler ends… it might be wielded to defend the realm from things like the Heralds.

By this point, the whole of destruction had manifested in Argrave’s hand. It seemed a universe unto itself. The Heralds watched and waited, doing nothing. Argrave looked between all of them, staring into the unknown, seeing the answer to so many questions he’d asked since the beginning. Even without speaking, the things they could offer was clear. Answers. The truth. True freedom, true power. Argrave saw the gleaming smile of the Hopeful, still anticipating the changes to come. They promised to be either the trumpeters of his arrival, or the first victims of his slaughter. All he needed to do was step forth, in dogged pursuit.

Just behind it all, like an all-consuming background, was the promise of something more. A greater realm to be reached. Higher heights. Something more, something beyond. A purpose to the madness, a design to the destruction, an explanation for the whole of all life. It invited him forth, beckoning. It offered him a place in the universe not dissimilar to theirs—to own, to control, to create, to rule. To herald change in the lesser worlds, watching their response.

Argrave looked to the power of destruction. He closed his fist, and turned it against itself.

At once, a howl of despair and anguish unlike anything Argrave had ever heard echoed in this place. The Heralds, once still and silent, surged forth with fury and distress enough to break the universe. Destruction feasted on its last target, tearing it apart piece-by-piece. It ate away at its bearer, too. Argrave felt no pain, merely a quickening absence. He couldn’t be sure this force wouldn’t break his soul, too. But it hardly mattered.

As the Heralds swarmed their burning prize in abject pain, and as destruction came to truly understand what it was… Argrave saw a glimpse of the truth everyone had been denied. And what was it?

Nothing worth seeking.

Chapter 48

Argrave drifted.

All of the things that had kept him confined to a state of existence had ceased to hold him any longer. Time had ceased to flow. Space had ceased to act. He had been consumed by that abyss of his own design—perhaps this was the expected result. Then again, perhaps deep in his head, he thought he’d appear back with the fused suns, overlooking the realm he’d come to call home before eventually being called back to join it.

Griffin had claimed that having power and losing it was far more agonizing than having failed to achieve it. Having inherited his power of destruction, and having made it self-destruct, Argrave could safely say the guy was full of it. What hurt far more was coming to terms with what he might miss.

Anneliese, even if freed of her stasis, going on without him. The family they’d promised to build together, dead in infancy. Their time together living on only as memory. For neither to hear the other’s voice, feel the other’s touch ever again… Argrave felt the hurt, even like this. Would she move on? He didn’t want her to, selfish as it was. And if there was something after this, he didn’t think he could.

Elenore, left to shoulder the burden of rulership alone. He knew she would be strong, would be loved… but Argrave didn’t want her to endure a frigid wasteland without warmth. She had Durran, and Argrave knew he could trust him, yet still felt she deserved far more. He wished to show her as many years of happiness as she had endured in misery. He didn’t want to be a shadow over her head—a brother she’d sent to death.

Orion, left to contend with his issues alone. If Argrave knew his brother, he would never cease blaming himself for what had happened. No matter how irrational, he would view it as his own failure. The man was just beginning to come into his own—with people, with family, and with life. Argrave didn’t want to be a setback.

Galamon, isolated after his disillusionment with his own people. His family would keep him going, but Argrave wished he could’ve helped him find a place for himself outside of being a Veidimen, outside of his crusade for his people.

Durran, carving a path for his people on his lonesome. Perhaps those of the kingdom of Vasquer and the Burnt Desert would come to accept one another… but Argrave felt certain he could make it happen, assisting his friend.

Raven, his purpose finished after the end of the cycle of judgment. There would always be a place for him, a use for him. But could he ever be truly happy? Argrave had intended to try.

And Sophia. So many promises broken. That he’d always be there. That he’d never make her sad. That he’d watch her grow up until she didn’t need him anymore, and then interfere in her love life with spurious concerns just like any father ought to. He didn’t want her to cry, not even for him. He didn’t want her grief.

Others might mourn, but not as deeply as those. There was so much he wanted to see, things he wished to do. What the hell were they going to do after what had happened? Would Dario and Melanie stop tiptoeing about and get together? Would Nikoletta and her cat have a happy ending? How would House Parbon fare? Would the southron elves have a resurgence? What would happen to the dwarves, the gods, the dragons, the magic in the world? What had happened in the Great Chu?

There was so much he wanted to see. There was history to become a part of. There were buildings still yet to build, roads still yet to pave, a continent still yet to be restored. There were aggrieved to bring justice to, fractured peoples to bring with unity, and a war-ravaged world to heal.

There was still a life that Argrave had yet to live. A full, honest life, with all of its complicated problems and simple joys.

First, he’d been torn from Earth at the point where his life begins. Denied the opportunity to make something of himself there, he’d been thrust into this place. Despite that, despite everything, he’d done the best job he could. He didn’t falter, didn’t break. He made it to the end.

And now, at the end of that long road, just when things might trend upward, he was being torn away again?

He didn’t care if there was a heaven on the other side, a world of bliss and total peace. He didn’t care if a hell, bleak and lonesome as his life had ever been, awaited him. The world was overdue to grant him some damned compensation.

Argrave wanted to live.

Argrave didn’t want to die.

In response to his primal, soulful desires, Argrave felt a spark running through him. The firmament of his being craned with the intensity of that desire, fighting against this homogeneous mire it’d been subsumed into. The next moment, it consumed all of him. He raged against his fate, his thrashing will battering against the dictates of the universe.

Then, he felt a subtle touch tracing his form. A warm touch. He showed it his existence as best he could, driving toward that warmth with every last drop of his being… until, finally, it sought him out on its own. He felt a hand grasp his, pulling, prying, with urgent and forceful intensity. In that warm grasp, Argrave went limp. He knew it would be strong enough to pull him all on its own.

The next moments were a jarring blur. Time came back into being, and shortly after, space. He could feel who he was being pried from some horrible darkness by a force that stubbornly refused to surrender him. He could feel entire universes shifting to hold him down, keep him steady—not by malice, but by force of reality.

As Argrave was pried backward, scattered fragments of himself were drawn back in to himself as though he were a magnet. All of the broken pieces of himself began to reform, reshape, precisely as they had been. All of it converged, compelled by forces with the strength to deny and defy reality. 

In time, Argrave passed by what felt like a barrier. He felt an alarmingly familiar force peering into this barrier—the Heralds, ever-watching, ever-prying. But as he passed, this barrier slammed shut, leaving only the echoes of their still-anguished howls. And when the last bit of their despair faded from his hearing…

Argrave felt a familiar force in his body, moving constantly. It compelled him to open his eyes.

Staring back at Argrave were tender amber eyes, half-hidden by messy white hair. He studied Anneliese, whose face still bore drowsiness. Between them were their left hands, tightly entwined. Before he could even ask the question, her eyes blinked and her hand gripped tighter, demonstrating that stasis claimed her no longer.

“Welcome back,” said Anneliese.

For a long moment of reflection, silence was the only thing Argrave felt. He grappled with that terror, that sheer force of being. It had left an indelible mark on his mind, seeing things he ought not be privy to. He was as dead as anyone could be. He was gone from this world. But…

“You pulled me from the brink,” Argrave said with conviction, a fact which Anneliese confirmed with a nod. “How? That place… I was more than dead. I was lost. I might as well have been back in Earth, I was so damned far. Finding me, let alone bringing me back…”

“It was simple. I only searched for an eternity,” she said with a smile. “A mere eternity was a small price to pay for us to enjoy our own together.”

As Argrave realized death was not his fate, tears dripped down his face unbidden. He was embarrassed, but became markedly less so when Anneliese joined him, her face twisted by a sob. He pulled her in, relishing in her warmth, her kind touch, their very existence together. They cried of relief, of happiness, of anticipation of all the days left to them. And they cried of sadness, anguish, and fear, remembering all that they’d lost and seen in their effort to end the cycle of judgment.

It was only after many minutes did Argrave remember the fact that there was a world beyond Anneliese. When he looked around, he realized they were in a tent. Magic still persisted, despite his expectations—its steady hum resounded within his body. He couldn’t hear anything, which was unnerving. They wore clothes—unfamiliar clothes, the both of them. Simple white gowns.

“What’s happened?” Argrave asked her. “I feel our artifacts, our connection. There’s magic, too. We… we didn’t… Gerechtigkeit is gone, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know.” Anneliese fixed her messy hair. “My [Truesight] is gone. The Spark of Eternity, as well. I think… I think I felt Sophia doing something with it, but…” She rose to her feet, then staggered and fell atop Argrave.

“Feeling weak?” When she nodded, Argrave stood, bringing her up with him. He did feel a little heavy, lethargic, but he’d felt the same way after being revived last time. He set her down, helping to get her bearings.

“I want to figure out what happened,” Anneliese said, leaning on his arm. “Can we go?”

“I’m slightly intrigued on that point myself.” Together, they slowly walked toward the tent’s flap. “Shall we?”

When Anneliese nodded, he pushed at the tent’s exit, feeling both eagerness and tremendous apprehension at what had become of the world.

Chapter 49

When Argrave and Anneliese walked out of their tent, the first thing they noticed was that underfoot.

“Grass?” Anneliese questioned. “How long have we been asleep? A week, or…?”

The reason for the lack of sound became clear—a ward surrounded their tent, blocking all noise from entering. Even had it not been there, things probably would’ve been quiet. It was the dead of night. The red moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the place well. Hundreds and hundreds of tents alike their own had been set up. Fires rose elsewhere, where figures could vaguely be seen crowded around them.

Anneliese held her hand to the ward. Her A-rank ascension sapped the magic within it, and after a few moments, if faded away. Sounds rushed back to them—the dim call of the wind, the distant murmurs from tents and campfire, the sound of industry, of horses neighing… this place was a veritable city of tents.

Rapid movement alerted the both of them, and Argrave whipped his head to see what came. There, Raven—now fully human—stood with his obsidian staff. He watched them in total stillness as others came to join him—Lorena, Orion, Elenore. Their stunned surprise was self-evident.

Argrave gave a wave. “Hey.”

Both of Argrave’s siblings began to stampede over, while Raven and Lorena began a steady walk forward. Argrave and Anneliese were far too weak to resist the proceeding embrace, but they never would’ve anyway. Elenore and Orion both blubbered affectionately just as Anneliese and Argrave had been moments ago.

“I can’t really make sense of you,” Argrave told Elenore, stroking the back of her head. “I told you it’d be fine, didn’t I?”

Elenore struck him with love (somehow), while Orion squished the four of them together in a family embrace. As they were assaulted, Raven and Lorena walked up to speak a little clearer than the siblings.

“Permit them some surprise. I’ve been preparing them for the worst. After all, you’ve been entirely braindead the past ten days.” His gray eyes looked between them both. “Both of you. After what Sophia did, Argrave’s flesh reappeared, but both of your minds vanished.”

“What Sophia did?” Argrave repeated. “What do you mean? What’s happened? I mean… magic is here, and our connection persists.”

The pair went silent. Lorena touched Raven’s shoulder, saying, “I’ll get the others.”

“Is Sophia alright?” Anneliese asked. “Please, catch us up to speed.”

Raven planted his staff down into the ground, leaning against it. “Sophia wove Anneliese’s Spark of Eternity into our realm. She used it to rebirth magic just as it was. Beyond that, everything else a part of the cycle of judgment has seemingly faded. Divinity, spirits, shamanic magic, the Shadowlanders—all gone.”

“But is Sophia alright?” Argrave pressed.

“I’m unsure.” Raven looked away.

“Is she or isn’t she?” Argrave asked, voice stern and hard.

“She’s walking, talking, and eating, Argrave,” Elenore explained, voice hoarse from the crying. “But she won’t say anything, do anything.”

“Her power of creation, too, has vanished,” Raven added.

“But what in the hell happened to you?” Elenore gripped Argrave’s collar, looking between him and Anneliese. “Gerechtigkeit… the Heralds… what happened?”

“Not much. Just broke the cycle of judgment, destroyed the primordial force of destruction.” Argrave shrugged, mind already drifting to Sophia.

“I had to save him,” Anneliese added pointedly. “But it was fine. I’m well used to it by this point.”

Elenore looked annoyed, relieved, and infinitely fatigued all in one. Orion gripped them tighter.

“Even with new grass growing, the world was gray and lonesome without you two,” Orion said, voice still trembling. “But I held on to hope. And the world has given me an undeserved reward for my faith.”

Soon, others joined them—Galamon, Durran, and the many friends of the years they spent in shared antagonism to the cycle of judgment. A deluge of emotion overwhelmed them all—smiles, tears, anger, grief, all of which were overshadowed by one very consistent fact that served as a buoy for their spirits.

The cycle of judgment had ended, forevermore.

Divinity had ended, utterly. The only thing that remained of their power was artifacts made of their flesh. All spirits had faded away, forever cutting away shamanic magic from use. Gods that survived, such as Hause or Law, had returned to the mortal form they inhabited before they assumed divinity. All divine blessings had faded, and all divine servants returned to dust.

Mortalkind alone would forever be the masters of their fate.

Magic had persisted, its skeletal frame given life again by the Spark of Eternity. Sophia’s creation had woven that single spark into an everlasting magic, expending both primordial forces in the process. Beings that depended on magic would continue existing, and spellcasters would continue to be able to manipulate the fantastic, life-changing essence.

Every soul that was alive, and every soul that had yet to come into existence, would be contained within the sun of Argrave’s creation. Even his own soul remained there, despite his expectations. The Heralds could never again exert their influence upon this world. Unsavory disciplines such as necromancy and soul magic would be forever barred from mortal hands—in Argrave’s book, no significant loss.

The scale of life lost was difficult to quantify, but… most prevalently, the outcome was survival. The lunar dragons survived. The Gilderwatchers survived. Humans, elves of the Bloodwoods, Veidimen, southron elves, dwarves—all survived, and given time, all could thrive. Losses were significant, certainly far more than anyone ever wanted.

But they had stood against the masters of their universe, and they had prevailed. And that freedom would not be taken for granted.

#####

Sophia ate the food placed before her without much consideration of what it tasted like at all. It had been sitting here for five hours, and now dusk had fallen. Everyone around had been doing their best to make sure that she got nothing other than the best of the best, even amidst all of this… yet regardless of what came, all of it tasted like ashes on the tongue, and the softest blankets felt like a bed of nails.

She had tried. She truly had. She had tried to take that Spark of Eternity, weaving it into the fabric of the world around her to rebirth magic. She had experienced the full breadth of her own power, the beauty that was creation. She had been so sure that what she was doing was right. And though magic came to be once again…

The curse persisted. Sophia’s curse.

Argrave and Anneliese both, returned to life… yet lifeless. Their eyes remained closed, their lips remain shut, their bodies remained unmoving. Even as breath entered and left their body, Raven claimed that there was nothing stirring in their minds. She had tried so hard to save Argrave, and in so doing, deprived the world of the two people she cared about more than anything.

And now, with her power of creation gone, she would never see them again.

Sophia couldn’t cry, couldn’t rage, couldn’t bargain, couldn’t grieve. There was simply a tremendous pit in her stomach—an abyss that sucked in all other thoughts, until only the guilt and failure persisted. When, finally, she’d gained the strength of will to step forward all on her own, her foolhardiness had sent the two greatest people in the whole world tumbling off the cliff instead of her.

She would give anything to take their place. Why did everyone have to suffer for her? Her brother, every person that had tried to help her in Sandelabara, and now the couple who would take a filthy thing like herself as their own child. She was at the root of their misery.

Sophia wished she could just disappear.

“Hey, kid,” said someone as they sat across from her. “What’s that you’re eating?”

When Sophia looked up, her brain encountered an error and was forced to restart.

“Looks like… meat soup,” Argrave noted, his gaze flitting between her bowl of food and helping the woman he was helping to sit down. “Good ol’ meat soup.” He reached across with a makeshift wooden spoon, taking some and eating it with a loud slurp. “Cold meat soup,” he grimaced.

Sophia didn’t know what to do as Argrave and Anneliese sat across from her.

“Would you like some cold meat soup, Anneliese?” Argrave asked her. “Should she be eating that? I mean, what if she gets food poisoning? How long has that been sitting out?”

“It should be fine,” Anneliese said assuredly.

“If you say so.” Argrave placed his arms on the table they all sat at, then looked at Sophia with a smile. “What’s wrong? A couple days away, and you forgot what I looked like? I’m back.”

Sophia didn’t dare move. Was she dreaming? Had Orion shaved to cheer her up? She’d heard him contemplating that with Elenore. When she opened her mouth, her voice—unused for over a week—came out weakly and hoarsely, and she only managed, “I…”

“We’re sorry about taking so long,” Argrave began. “Had some car troubles, got a little lost down the wrong dirt road.”

“Be serious,” Anneliese flicked his ear, and he flinched away. “Consider her feelings.”

“I’m just trying to be cheerful,” Argrave defended himself, then he looked at Sophia with a smile. “You did it, Sophia. You saved us.”

Even with the whirling undercurrent of doubt twisting her guts a million ways, her hope became too strong to sit there idly. Sophia got onto the table and leapt at both of them with more energy she knew she had. Argrave was surprised, but he caught her with a laugh, falling off the bench and onto the grass so as not to hurt her from forcefully stopping her.

In the following moments, Sophia was only aware that she was crying, and that Argrave and Anneliese expended every effort to get her to stop doing so. She tried to voice questions, but they were overtaken by sobs every time. The whole while, the two whispered calming words in her ears to soothe the bubbling volcano of emotions in her chest.

Even though she couldn’t even manage a single question, she got her answer. It was them. Not a hollow mockery of Sophia’s creation—them. They were back. They would continue to live, wholly present, and at least for now… they still accepted her as their daughter.

When Sophia started to be aware of her surroundings again, she sat nestled between Argrave and Anneliese before a campfire, several of their closest allies around. Anneliese calmingly rubbed her head, while Argrave prodded at the fire with a stick. Her eyes were puffy and red, but Sophia was happy.

“Shall I be the one to kill the joy, as usual?” Elenore began, looking between them all. “It’s all well and good you’re back… but we need to start planning for the future. The entire continent has been set back hundreds of years, and we have to do something about that.”

Argrave studied her peculiarly. “Why would that be a killjoy?” He rose to his feet. “We lost people. More people than I can even conceive of. We did all of that for a bright, eternal future. And now…” he looked back, kneeling before Sophia. “Now, we can have it. A family. Big family. Love. Peace. An endeavor toward prosperity, without the looming threat of interlopers interfering where they don’t belong.” He took her hand, then Anneliese’s.

“Well…” Elenore closed her eyes. “I… hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“I have,” Durran said, looking at her with a faint smile.

Elenore turned away from him, but Sophia couldn’t tell if she was blushing or if it was merely the fire reflecting on her pale skin.

“I’d been more thinking about how busy we’ll all be, but… yes. It’ll be nice, won’t it?” Even Elenore, ever the pessimist, looked to the stars with hopes for the future in her eyes. “Still, we need to plan. What becomes of us? What becomes of this? I have my own thoughts. Let’s discuss them in the morning. You agree?”

“Sounds great.” He looked at Sophia. “You need to sleep, little one.”

“Stay,” Sophia said by instinct, grasping his hand tighter. “Please.”

Argrave smiled. “Forever.”

“Forever,” agreed Anneliese, kissing the top of her head.

Chapter 50

Argrave and Anneliese walked toward Elenore’s large command tent in the early morning. Sophia had been reluctant to see them leave, but they’d persuaded her to rest more. As they walked, Argrave paused.

“Forget something?” Anneliese asked, knowing that look.

“The hand mirror,” Argrave said ponderously. “The bronze one. I’ve no idea where it is.”

Anneliese put a hand on her hip as she thought. “It may be a safe assumption to deem it lost, considering you’ve died twice and every building around us has been razed to the ground.”

“Yeah.” Argrave nodded thoughtfully.

“You hadn’t actually used that it in a very long time,” Anneliese reminded him. “You said it made you feel detached from the world around you.”

Argrave nodded in agreement. “It did, it’s just… maybe we could’ve discovered some mystery from it. Some truth.”

“Not every mystery is worth solving,” Anneliese said with complete conviction. “Not every answer will be satisfying. Sometimes, you won’t find any answer at all. Fortunately, there are a thousand other questions worth answering. You don’t need to focus on the impossible ones.” She gestured. “But you know that. It’s why you denied the Heralds.”

Argrave looked up at the sun rising. “Spent a lot of time asking ‘why’ when I was younger. That question invariably multiplies itself. The only thing that made me move on was changing the question. Not ‘why,’ but ‘why not?’”

“Come on,” Anneliese directed him. “Let’s give it our best, today.”

“Why not?” Argrave smiled, following after her and passing into Elenore’s tent.

On the inside, disorganized pockets of important people had spread out everywhere. Upon their entrance, the atmosphere seemed to shift. All small talk ended, and they slowly made their way to the large table in the center of the room that’d been carved of stone.

There were countless groups represented here, each with their own interests. Ganbaatar, envoy of the elves from the Bloodwoods. Therapont, representative of the surviving dwarves fleeing Mundi. Artur, who’d gathered all surviving spellcasters of Vasquer beneath him. Durran, who stood for his people as much for their friendship. Lorena and her daughter—who did indeed look alarmingly like Anneliese, presently—represented the dragons, both those of the moon and the Gilderwatchers.

Each and all had their own sub-factions, their own individual cultures, viewpoints, and methodology. They had their own ambitions, desires, and needs. They had their own philosophy, most of which had insurmountable differences with those standing just next to them. Most here were leaders in their own right, but all were hesitant to step forward to the head of that table. They were all battered enough dealing with their own problems—to shoulder responsibility for all present seemed so difficult that their fear outweighed their ambition.

For two, though, it felt natural. 

Argrave and Anneliese came to the head of the table, near in lockstep. Elenore quietly joined them, though made sure she got little attention compared to them.

“Alright,” Argrave called out, leaning up against the table. “Let’s convene the First Council of the Homeless. Hopefully, it’ll be the last.”

Some amusement cut the tension down in the room, but none were eager to speak first.

“The facts, as I understand them, are thus; most everything that’s been built up in our lifetime, and countless lifetimes before it, has crumbled. We’re standing in the ruins of what was once a proud city, encircled by mountains. Throughout Berendar, the damage is similar.” Argrave snapped his head to his sister. “Elenore?”

“This city of tents is growing larger day-by-day. We’ve gotten by with what little hunting and foraging is possible, but already that’s wearing thin.” Elenore placed her thin hands on the table. “We need organization. We need robust, centralized leadership—leadership that can act quickly and decisively, that can decide in a moment’s notice how we approach the difficult problems that crop up.”

Everyone here saw the necessity for that, agreeing with quiet nods.

“Those in this room are suitable figures,” Therapont, dwarven senator with a bushy beard, put forth. “Dwarven governance maintained the grand city of Mundi for countless years, colonizing the inner earth without issue. Using that same model, we could reclaim this continent for all people. A senate of many races.”

Some looked discontented, some intrigued.

“Dwarves succeeded governing other dwarves,” Galamon spoke up. “Here, now… could this disparate group of peoples act with both haste and justice? For a time, perhaps.”

“But not forever,” Anneliese agreed. “Before long, each of us would gain vested interests that causes stagnation, even rifts. I saw as much in Mundi, meaning no offense. Could humans act upon something that might benefit only elves, or vice versa? My experience tells me no.”

“If the situation wasn’t so chaotic, I’d aim for a council of sorts.” Ganbaatar looked at Argrave. “But we need decisive action.”

Therapont said firmly, “Argrave’s proven an effective leader during times of intense war. However, is his sort of mentality what we need going forth? I ask with only the best of intentions, mind.”

“I know.” Argrave nodded, holding his arms out. “It’s worth considering, but I’ll give my perspective. I’ve no great love for war. I think most of you can attest to the fact I search for a diplomatic solution wherever possible. Moreover… I’ve never had singular power.” He looked at Anneliese, then Elenore. “Anneliese has been as much of a leader as I have, if not more. Elenore is an administrator without peer.” He looked to other allies all around. “The good work and advice of others has been invaluable. I would continue in that fashion.”

“So, speaking bluntly…” Durran began, his arms crossed. “The choice is between a council of some sorts, or the royal three.” He gestured their way. “You might say that I’m a touch biased, but I think our present rulers have more than proven themselves. The idea of waiting for a council to decide things in these trying times make me somewhat wary. My people could die of thirst while you’re debating whether to let us drink.”

“To maintain stability, nothing is better than democracy,” Raven said. “But to rebuild from the ashes? To reclaim a ravaged continent before nature does? To check thousands of ambitions, working in tandem? We need a powerful government.”

All saw the merit in what Raven said.

“So… the Kingdom of Vasquer continues,” Melanie said glibly. “I’d be pleased if my fiefdom hadn’t been buried under mountains.”

“No,” Argrave said decisively. “Not the kingdom. The Blackgard Union continues. I don’t want to carry on the traditions of nobility, of class structures, of pointless divides between people. All of us are here, now, sleeping on shoddy bedrolls and walking on grass. All should be given equal opportunity to make their way in the world. We have the opportunity to build something from the ground up, and no one should be deprived of that right.”

“That way of life is all our people know,” Nikoletta spoke up. “Keep the title of king, at least. For a time.”

Argrave was a little opposed to the notion, but said nothing.

“Governments are not static things. It can, and should, be changed. There’s an opportunity to do both. Building the house is a much different task from living in it.” Anneliese gestured at Therapont. “We can build the framework for the transition from an absolute government to one that allows people their voice. And we can see it through.”

Artur laughed. “Sure, you can. The question always remains… will you? In ten, twenty, even a hundred years from now, when you’ve a dozen children running about, and they’re expecting children of their own… could you deprive them of what you built? Could you earnestly step aside?”

“We discussed doing so now,” Argrave said with some amusement. “Taking Sophia, going to some distant, beautiful place… letting the world sort itself out.” He smiled at Anneliese, who offered her hand. “But we know we can do this. And if the alternative is letting this place slide into chaos, we’d rather build a great nation.”

“They’re also essentially immortal, and could likely kill all of us,” Lorena cut in. “The fact they’re even asking is good enough for me.”

“On that cheery note… long live the king,” came an unenthusiastic cheer from Artur.

“Alright. To put it plainly, I’m proposing a triumvirate between myself, Anneliese, and Elenore—King, Queen, and Prime Minister.” Argrave looked between everyone. “Unless anyone has any alternative proposals they’d like to bring up.”

“There are a million others,” Raven said. “But I’m certain this one will work—and quickly. That’s what’s important.”

With that capstone, no objections were raised. Indeed, there was a sense of ease in the room, of certainty. The future of a hundred years seemed uncertain, but for now, all present knew they would be in good, proven hands.

“To what extent will we attempt to govern?” said Orion, breaking his long silence. “Shall our nation span the world?”

“Are you trying to kill me?” Elenore cut in. “Inevitably, they’re going to fob off administration on me. We can’t govern the world—not yet, at least. Nor should we. We’ve no presence anywhere besides here in Berendar and the Great Chu.”

“Then, those two alone?” Orion pressed. “I merely ask because I think it for the best.”

“The Great Chu has a long history of being shattered, only for its people to rebuild it back into the great empire it’s always been.” Argrave crossed his arms. “Of the world, I think they’ll be the best at rebuilding. It’s their culture. We should focus on resettling and governing Berendar alone.”

“Yet my people persist there,” Galamon said. “And Patriarch Dras expended no small effort to maintain his people at the expense of the natives, even amidst the calamity. His designs on their land will not end. The Veidimen remain tightly bound with us. I foresee issues.”

“I… don’t disagree,” Anneliese admitted. “Still, overextension could result in total fracture. We have justification, and we have the history in this continent. In the Great Chu, we were always on flimsy ground.”

Elenore nodded. “Until we’ve solid ground to stand upon, we shouldn’t look to solve the problems of the world. Even if we were able, I’m hesitant. Providing aid where it might be unwelcome could quickly devolve into something ugly for all parties.”

“For the immediate future, at least, we stick to Berendar,” Argrave ruled. “Where do we go from here?”

As more and more people began to speak, Argrave realized they had a long, long task ahead of them. The three years and change he’d spent here would be nothing compared to the long stretch that was coming. It would be plagued with difficult decisions, hard compromises, and unanswerable questions. The fact that they’d already begun was a source of great solace. At the end of the day, this was what living in this world meant.

Argrave was more than ready to go through the complicated endlessness of existence.

Epilogue 1.1: Preface

The events of the previous volume of this work may make the reader question if it should be taken as a historical account or a novel born of my imagination. To that skeptical reader, I assure I exaggerated no feats. The vast majority of it was corroborated by multiple firsthand sources who survived the Last Calamity, including many that have no known relationship to the imperial court of the Blackgard Union. I put my own testimony in that list. I was a soldier in the Kingdom of Vasquer’s army, but I saw the man then called king only a few times, and never spoke to him personally.

Nevertheless, very little evidence actually exists outside of testimony. Some claim Argrave’s exploits too grandiose, likely heavily warped by sycophants seeking praise. I counted myself among such skeptical historians, but thorough investigation has borne fruit in the form of the previous volume which I am confident in calling the most accurate account of Argrave’s journey leading up to the Last Calamity.

My peers in the field of history have already done excellent work documenting the rise of the Blackgard Union. I will provide a brief summary, but little more. Instead, my focus shall lie in the figures which established the grand nation we enjoy today.  This volume largely covers the prominent people involved during the three ages.

My colleague and collaborator, Garm of Vasquer, has provided invaluable assistance in allowing me access to both prominent figures and records. Carrying on with this trend of largesse, he will provide a personal account of his experience in the imperial court where necessary. Where we begin, however, he’s yet to be born.

Age of Reclamation, 1-25 AC

To properly contextualize the scale of the restoration, the reader must understand the scale of the destruction.

According to conservative estimates, thirty percent of the world’s sentient population perished in the calamity. On the other end of the spectrum, some suggest that as much as ninety percent of the world’s population passed away. Of all these accounts, the most accurate comes from Prime Minister Elenore of Vasquer. She posits a figure of around sixty-five percent in Berendar, and an averaged forty percent elsewhere.

Regardless of the precise figure, any represent the total erosion of society around the world. Berendar, as the site of the calamity’s descent, was the worst affected. The entire city of Blackgard was wiped away, along with countless other grand settlements of the time. Mountains were levelled in some places, and rose up in others. Rivers changed course, chasms opened in once-fertile plains, and plentiful mines were sealed off.

It would be no exaggeration to say that civilization died entirely.

Despite this tremendous step backward, the government established by Argrave, Anneliese, and Elenore managed to restore order remarkably quickly. Within six months, the whole of Berendar had been divided into administrative regions, and governors with genuine authority were appointed to each. Each followed a unified law levied by the government, but were given significant autonomy to respond to the unique problems of each region.

Until 7 AC, Argrave would rule as king, eventually adopting the title of emperor in 8 AC. These appointed governors served the emperor alone, serving to replace the abolished nobility as regional leaders. Some have suggested the more severe drop in population enabled this to happen far easier than elsewhere, but I contest this point.

The population in Berendar was wildly varied. The largest single group was human, but they were easily outnumbered by other groups. Elves alone comprised nearly half of the total population. There were elves from the Bloodwoods, who formally dissolved their protectorate and merged with the Blackgard Union in 4 AC. There were Veidimen—‘snow elves’—many of whom came to the continent due to efforts by General Galamon and Empress Anneliese.

Beyond elves, there were dwarf refugees escaping their lost city of Mundi who did make efforts to establish their own state in 12-13 AC before being persuaded to stay on the surface within the union by Argrave. Also of note is the lunar dragons. Though most prominent in Berendar, theirs was a global presence.

Even human cultures clashed against one another—the north attempted to secede in 17 AC before the government provided substantial economic aid, and the Burnt Desert nearly rejected governance altogether, narrowly halted by Governor Durran’s intervention. Refugees and opportunists attempted to declare themselves warlords, but such attempts were quickly quelled. The dying embers of nobility tried to cling to existence, and spellcasters attempted to win special privileges in the burgeoning state, but neither succeeded.

Worth mentioning are the subterranean communes, the southron elves, the centaurs, and the tribes of Vysenn. Though negligible in the whole of the continent, each had a significant impact on their respective regions. Some were given land grants to prevent bloodshed, which might’ve resulted in the annihilation of their people and culture. The centaurs, for instance, were granted the wide-open plains where the Tower of the Gray Owl once stood. All these disparate peoples remained a part of the nation nonetheless.

In the end, the Blackgard Union’s reassumption of control led to relatively little bloodshed. This stood in stark contrast to many other places in the world, where warlords rose from the ashes of dead empires to reign as tyrants. The imperial court was certainly decisive, unwavering, and at times ruthless. Their regime, however, had a single-minded purpose; reclaiming the land before nature could.

I had the great fortune to be a soldier in the army from 1 AC to 20 AC. It was astounding to see the intelligence and driven purpose of the people of Berendar. I would leave a region with the army to quell a disturbance, or deal with encroachment by some foul beasts. By the time we returned, the area had been built up so much as to be unrecognizable.

All around the continent, the foundation for planned cities rose up in strategic locations, while robust infrastructure projects served to connect them all. Roads, bridges, aqueducts, crop fields, marketplaces—the various governors proved extremely competent, acting as an extension of the emperor’s will. Some were former nobility, such as Nikoletta of Monticci or Vasilisa of Quadreign, but the vast majority were those appointed by virtue of merit and personality.

Perhaps the only positive for the severe drop in population was an abundance of opportunity. Countless governors—and the imperial court itself—offered land grants and tax exemptions to promote the resettlement of land. These initiatives attempted to distribute different races evenly, so that no one region had an excessive concentration of a particular people.

Several sources suggest this was part of a deliberate effort to erode cultural and racial divides, fostering a belonging to the Blackgard Union before their race. The imperial court never stated that outright, but even my colleague, Prince Garm, wasn’t entirely dismissive toward the idea. Constant efforts to instill a sense of national pride in settlers further supports that point.

Standing as an example to their subjects, the imperial couple announced Anneliese’s first pregnancy eight months into 1 AC. The first prince, Castro of Vasquer, would be born next year. His birth was said to have provided immense joy to the family, including Sophia of Vasquer, despite whispers of succession already surfacing.

Regardless, the reconstruction of Berendar proved to be the most successful restoration effort in the world. The creative genius of Artur—who was the architect behind the vast majority of the network of roads, cities, and settlements—was carried out by us soldiers alongside a large throng of spellcasters. The Age of Reclamation was a period of mourning, but also of the great regrowth after a forest fire.

There can be no doubt that the central figures of this age were the emperor and empress. As such, theirs is to be the first profile.

Epilogue 1.2: Parents of the Empire

Argrave of Vasquer and Anneliese of Vasquer, known by enough titles to fill a book on their lonesome, proved to be as able in the restoration of Berendar as they were in its defense. From the outset, their rule was a triumvirate, comprised of this couple and Prime Minister Elenore. While Elenore was undoubtedly pivotal, she seldom appeared in public. Emperor and Empress were the public-facing rulers, and the focus of this section. 

From the outside looking in, it would be difficult to find a single blemish in their conduct. Those closest to them say that they did very little besides work. They were energetic, ambitious, and generous monarchs, who fostered a culture of cooperation in their court that, while not entirely democratic, certainly heeded the advice of those gathered to serve them. 

They received heavy criticism for the suspension of the parliament and other institutions in favor of a highly-centralized government. In response to a delegate of a coalition of former nobility and dwarves who protested the autocratic government in 12 AC, Argrave is credited to say this:

“It took you twelve years to gather a coalition threatening enough to protest our government. In that time, we’ve rebuilt many of the cities that fell and founded new ones entirely. We’ve built a network of roads spanning the southernmost tip of the Burnt Desert to the coldest city in the north. We’ve provided tens of thousands of families deprived of house and home land of their own to develop. I won’t deny that I’ve not put a vote before all of the people, letting them decide if we’ve the right to do these things. I would expect the same courtesy from you in acknowledging democracy would’ve been impossible in the aftermath of the hell we all endured. This nation has just been born. As its parents, my wife and I shall teach it just as we teach our own children. It only now begins to walk, and soon, we intend to teach it to run. When we believe it can survive on its own, we will step away and let it live its life. On this point, you have my word.”

This was the only legitimate challenge to imperial authority in the first twenty-five years of their reign, and it ended bloodlessly in 13 AC with the formal annexation of the dwarven city of Mundi. Given the city had ceased existing long ago, it was merely a ceremony to indicate the dwarves would be given the same rights as other citizens of the Blackgard Union.

This incident earned them their most popular nickname: ‘Parents of the Empire,’ or Father and Mother for the emperor and empress individually.

It stuck, in part, because of the fecundity of their marriage. Between 1-25 AC, Anneliese gave birth to thirteen children. If not for the Age of Fury, Prince Garm believes they would’ve had more. For an elven woman especially, the rate is notable. Some believe they wished to stand as an example to their own people, but Prince Garm expresses skepticism, deeming it ‘…a natural consequence of an often annoyingly infatuated couple.’

Beyond their fertile marriage, they treated their empire as thoughtfully as a parent should their child. They were not given to displays of wealth or elaborate ceremonies. Any festivals held were paid at their expense and provided to the people. Any buildings built were not their personal property, but property of the nation or the public.

Indeed, for a long while, ‘the court’ was a concept rather than a place—Argrave and Anneliese were itinerant monarchs, travelling Berendar together and employing every effort to raise it up from the ash. It was only in 21 AC that they had a true palace where Blackgard had once stood, but it was a mere extension of the capitol housing the bureaucratic apparatus of the state, and dwarfed by several buildings around it.

While indulging in very little extravagance themselves, they made some notable exceptions for their children. Argrave in particular foisted gifts upon his children, such as in 18 AC when he gave Sophia an island which the princess subsequently repurposed to a headquarters for relief efforts venturing toward different continents.

They were extremely well-loved monarchs who built not only the civilization they presided over, but the culture that came to inhabit it. The governors took example from them, and the officials beneath the governor further distilled that spirit toward the people. Their people, regardless of any deliberate effort to provide example, took many traits from the emperor and empress.

There was a remarkable sense of community and solidarity that could be felt as clearly in the arid Burnt Desert as in the very heart of the rebuilt Blackgard. I write so having spent some years among both. The shared nightmare of the calamity gave everyone a commonality—a commonality which the Blackgard Union used to unite people that before would regard one another with mutual distrust.

This period wasn’t without conflict. The firm yet loving hands of the Parents of the Empire proved to be incredibly adroit at minimizing it, instead uniting those they could toward the shared goal of picking up the broken pieces of the world.

Even as a soldier sent to fight and perhaps die at their behest, I can think of no battle I felt was unjustified—not even the controversial Seventy Second Skirmish that marked the end of my service in 20 AC, where we disbanded a faction of centaurs that wished to raid lands neighboring those allotted to them. Though a brutal incident, it was necessary to strike preemptively lest more lives be lost by their actions.

But these are the public-facing personas of the Parents of the Empire. To relay the true faces of the parents, it’s best to ask the child. As such, Second Prince Garm graciously agreed to my request to describe his childhood. I believe his words speak for themselves, so I’ve included them without modification.

When I was young, I’m sure I can speak for all my brothers and sisters in saying our childhood was rather joyous. Our parents made as much time as they could for us given the gravity of what they did, and it was rare for us to go a day without seeing them. Despite this, the Blackgard Union often came first. Fortunately, Sophia was the best sister any of us could ask for, and acted as something of a second mother to all of us alongside other servants.

Our family travelled a great deal, and as we did, we siblings came to understand the immensity of what our parents actually did. They had a certain intensity to them that was difficult to describe. They were huge, larger-than-life, and that held true in everything they did. They had a weight, a vitality, that only they can understand. After all they’d done, they found it difficult to connect with us on a personal level. Despite the traumatic period they lived through, they endeavored very hard to ensure we felt loved, and that they didn’t want us to follow in their footsteps.

I suspect all of us felt some insecurity at the fact they didn’t have any expectations of us beyond achieving happiness, but each of us dealt with it in our own way. At the end of it all, each of us found a route that we were happy travelling. We accepted we weren’t entitled to anything simply because of the womb we jumped out of. Our parents remained supportive and loving, but we did sometimes joke amongst each other that the Blackgard Union was the favorite child after Sophia.

By 25 AC, the pair had fourteen children.

First Princess Sophia of Vasquer

Born between 10-8 BC

The beloved first child. Allegedly Argrave’s niece, he officially proclaimed her his daughter not long into 1AC. Given the care she was shown, some allege that she was Argrave’s first child by another woman. Given he would’ve been, at best, in his early teens, most historians agree the claim has no merit. Moreover, her magical aptitude was merely decent, not reflecting Argrave’s immense affinity.

By the time of her adulthood, Sophia was exceptionally well-educated—some suggest groomed as a successor. She remained in the royal court to help raise her brothers and sisters, but also came to take the office of grand almoner. She would become loved further and wider than she already was for significant acts of selfless charity.

First Prince Castro of Vasquer

Born 2 AC

In his youth, Garm described Castro as ‘a terror.’ As he aged, however, and as he was introduced to magic, he calmed. He was said to take to magic with the same fervor that his namesake did. He proved exceptionally talented, and ended up being one of the first graduates of the state-sponsored magic school.

In magic, he became something of a student to Anneliese. He aided her wherever possible, allowing her own curiosities to be indulged by the steadfast work of her son as she governed the Blackgard Union. Rumor swirls to this day that he’s particularly interested in magic involving the sun of Argrave’s creation, but as of writing this, nothing practical has manifested.

Second Prince Garm of Vasquer

Born 4 AC

When asked of himself, Garm says, ‘I merely prefer to stay in the background, watching, documenting. Some find it dull, but I prefer my boring life. I knew early on I had no desire to lead the exciting lives of my parents. I could tell how it weighed them down, made it difficult for them to connect with us.’

Despite his modest claims, Garm’s achievements in magic are reflective of the immense talent of his lineage. Garm feels the need to inform the reader that he was ‘…markedly less humble in [his] youth.’

Third Prince Enrico of Vasquer

Born 6 AC

‘Enrico was the only among us who intended to follow in our parent’s footsteps, no matter their discouragement,’ Garm says of his late brother. ‘He was stubborn, energetic, and ambitious—often to their frustration.’

From an early age, Enrico is said to have studied governance under Elenore, magic under Raven, and leadership under the governors of the time. He idolized his parents, and because of that, often acted by their example rather than their direction. He was considered for a governorship, but in the end, fearing to begin a cycle of nepotism, Argrave appointed him head diplomat and representative of the imperial family in 24 AC.

His death in 25 AC is considered the unequivocal beginning of the Age of Fury.

Second Princess Diana of Vasquer

7 AC to present

Diana avoids the public eye. Even my colleague, Garm, merely says that he ‘…will respect her desire for privacy, and refrain from talking out of turn.’ She has a noted affinity for art, quietly patronizing several institutions. Some claim her to be the famous painter ‘Onyx,’ but I found no evidence to that point.

The other nine imperial scions were still in childhood by the time the Age of Fury began. Consequently, I will save my description of them for the section of this volume detailing it. Commenting on the family on the whole, Garm has this to say.

I believe these twenty-five years were, for my parents, their golden age. They enjoyed building rather than defending. They enjoyed the rush to success. They enjoyed establishing something of their architecture, of their design. And most of all, they enjoyed elevating those that had endured the calamity alongside them to greater heights. They seldom ended a day gloomily. That aspect was reflected in all of us.

Though they were certainly the most present figures in our life, our aunt and uncle also proved an immensely positive influence. For the longest time, all of us considered Orion to be nothing more than the fun uncle. It was only when the Age of Fury began that we saw precisely what our family had been like in the years before we were born.

Speaking to Garm’s point, I can attest to the fact that the empire simply would not be what it was without the stewardship of Elenore and the large cabinet of governors that she presided over in her capacity as Prime Minister. As such, the next profile will discuss those prominent figures closely adjacent to the imperial couple in this era.

Epilogue 1.3: Unsung Heroes

Princess Elenore of Vasquer

To be frank, I was hesitant to pen this profile. Prince Garm, however, has given me assurances, and wishes for Elenore to receive some recognition after all these years.

“The simple truth of the matter is that we’re Elenore’s instruments, not the other way around. What she tells us to do, we do. We get all of the accolades, all of the recognition, but most of the essence comes from her. It’d be a shame if that wasn’t precisely the way she prefers things. I almost feel bad when someone credits me for a plan of her design, but then I remember how rich she is.”

The previous quote comes from Emperor Argrave, allegedly, but very few are willing to substantiate it. Regardless of its veracity, the truth in the statement is undeniable. The Prime Minister of the Blackgard Union made a grand total of two major public appearances in the first twenty-five years, and both were alongside Argrave and Anneliese. Despite that, every governor that I’ve spoken to has cited Elenore as the true architect behind governance.

During the Age of Reclamation, she lived a very humble, low-key life in Blackgard. She had one child with her husband, the King of the Scorched Sands—a girl whom they named Therese. I was unable to find a date of birth, but given Garm has memories of her as a child, they were likely similar ages. Theirs was a small, happy family, sometimes separated given the necessity of Durran’s presence in the Burnt Desert.

In effect, though, their family was much larger. Elenore expended great effort to establish orphanages to manage children that had lost their family after the calamity. A great many of these children were hers in all but name, sharing house and home with her own daughter. Prince Garm recalls playing with these children in her home, and can distinctly recall them calling Elenore ‘mom’ and receiving no refutation. These orphans received excellent educations, and many went on to achieve significant things in their own right.

That kind image stands in stark contrast to the government established, which was tremendously anti-corruption and ruthlessly meritocratic. Embezzlers and corrupt officials were executed in gruesomely creative ways, sometimes by trial and other times by suspicious incidents. Governors had great freedom, but the Prime Minister remained an incredibly powerful moderating force with near-total control of the imperial army.

In 1AC, the only ‘administrators’ around were the remnants of nobles. By 25AC, Elenore had established a robust civil service selection process that all officials—including governors—were mandated to pass. When her husband failed a civil service exam, she revoked his governorship with the same indifference she had with any other. The officials in the empire are fiercely anti-corruption to this day. It’s said that a civil servant would sooner hang himself than steal a pen—but then, they’re paid well enough they don’t need to.

Her incorruptible administration facilitated sweeping changes. Using the Three Principles drafted before the calamity as a foundation, she created a robust legal system. She facilitated trade and commerce, and in 24AC began to introduce state-secured credit with the aim to gradually transition from minting coins to paper currency. Her personal stake in businesses around the country was large, yet much of her personal profit went directly into the nation’s treasury, funding the various needs of state.

Perhaps the only thing Elenore can’t reasonably claim some of the credit for is the army. Its architecture wasn’t of her design, though she did undoubtedly provide the materials for its construction. But though Elenore was endlessly competent, she couldn’t have achieved what she did without working with people of the same caliber. To that point, some persons stick out above others.

Governor Nikoletta of Monticci

Governor from 1AC to 23AC

Raised to be an heir of a dukedom that relied heavily on mercantile endeavors, Nikoletta proved to be one of the most able administrators of the age. She received harsh criticism for having no children, yet that steadfast commitment helped dissolve the persistent sentiment toward a necessity of nobility and lineage. She proved vital for reestablishing magical education, and endeavored thoroughly for a solely meritocratic selection process in the new system.

Governor Vasilisa of Quadreign

Governor from 2AC to 27AC

The northern reaches of Berendar suffered terribly after the calamity. It had faced the most severe population drop of any region, and its people bore some resentment toward the crown for the death of Archduchess Diana and subsequent dissolution of its noble house. Exotic insects plagued the region for many years even despite the frigid cold, bringing with them diseases unimaginable.

Vasilisa, who thought herself entirely inadequate for the role, nevertheless thrived in it, aided by the black flame that was the heritage of their house. With the help of her niece, who—as Quadreign’s heir—formally dissolved the archduchy in 3AC, they transformed the region entirely.

In 17AC, her attempt at secession from the empire proved to be a bold yet successful gamble that earned their region aid from the imperial court. This aid proved substantial enough to build infrastructure that could sustain countless settlements in areas once thought unlivable, and further earned the crown the respect of its people. Today, the north remains the single most industrially productive region in Vasquer because of Vasilisa’s efforts. The northern coast in particular received great settlement from Veidimen.

Myriarch Ghan

Governor 7AC to 48AC

After the end of the calamity, gods returned to being mere mortals. Ghan was the result of one such devolution—once patriarch of the elven gods of the Bloodwoods, he became the eventual leader of the elves in the Bloodwoods. They were already a protectorate of the Blackgard Union, but formally dissolved it at Ghan’s insistence, joining the Bloodwoods with the empire.

The Bloodwoods themselves—a remarkably inhospitable place before the calamity, and still somewhat so after—were declared a nature reserve by the crown. The majority of its redwoods had resisted the calamity entirely, and in a few years, it became unrecognizable the region had even been marred.

Elves of the region maintain it to this day, keeping with their old traditions (with the notable exception of now actually welcoming visitors). Unlike other governorships, theirs was an elected position from its inception, and maintains the name of ‘Myriarch.’ The only building persisting is an estate built by Onychinusa, of which little is known. By Garm’s word, it’s a haven for exotic animals and creatures, including the emperor’s own Brumesingers.

Governor Therese of the Scorched Sands

Governor 20AC to 35AC

Unlike her brother the emperor, Elenore wasn’t opposed to her children following her footsteps. Durran’s governorship was revoked in 15AC, during which time another reigned ably. In 20AC, however, his daughter assumed his old post. Ties between the Burnt Desert and the rest of Berendar remained tense. The Age of Fury likely helped bring them into the fold—one positive of that otherwise unpleasant time.

Therese proved to possess her mother’s genius, and according to Elenore, ‘her namesake’s demeanor.’ Some criticize her for not allowing old tribal allegiances to persist, but all told, her governance managed to totally integrate the oft-considered ungovernable desert into the Blackgard Union. She was aided by a large number of childhood friends from the orphanages Elenore established.

She received great honors from the imperial crown in a ceremony. This event, held at the beginning of 24AC, was one of the two times Elenore made a public appearance in the Age of Reclamation.

Governor Julio

Governor 1AC to 24AC

An exemplar of merit, Julio stood as the most prominent example of a common man made great. Twenty-two after the end of the calamity and a crippled soldier of the army, he rebuilt his home city of Relize. Patrician families of that city proved to fight him tooth and nail to retain their distinctive monopolies over certain industries, and despite staggering bribes offered, his single-minded focus was the progress of his governed region.

In his twenty-three years of governorship, he not only reestablished Relize as a tremendously populous trade hub, he also established the single largest independent bank in the country. He would become one of the main proponents for a central bank in the future. He was a fierce advocate for equality in all its forms, noted for outlandishly flamboyant declarations and an extremely complicated romantic life which involved a lunar dragon and a score of others immortalized in the play, ‘League of the Spurned.’

Emperor Argrave once publicly deemed him ‘a little insane, but a mostly good person.’ Prince Garm adds that the emperor may have levied threats toward the philanderer, because Julio consistently denied the existence of any of the emperor’s daughters in mocking deference.

Dario: Registrar of Mines

Once a member of the subterranean communes, Dario was appointed to oversee mining efforts throughout the whole empire. Bizarrely, the automatons of his people ceased to function after the Last Calamity. This fact bred some distrust in the populace—distrust that Dario quickly did away with by pivoting his people toward the development of mining tools in concert with the dwarven people.

With the entire continent’s mineral reserves disturbed, he proved an invaluable prospector. His partner, Melanie, proved adroit at facilitating the proliferation of these resources throughout the continent. Details on their precise relationship are unclear, but after a while, the two of them retired to obscurity, leaving the country with reserves of resources that are drawn upon to this day.

Raven: Maestro, Imperial Physician

Raven was the first to earn the title of Maestro—an honor granted by the prime minister, emperor, or empress to honor achievements in magic. This fact is often overlooked given the fact no ceremony was held, but Prince Garm confirmed it. Raven provided a vast quantity of knowledge used to revolutionize the healing arts. With Raven’s knowledge, things like lost limbs or gouged eyes were no longer permanent afflictions. Cancer could be stymied, or even removed altogether. Countless such advances exist, affecting every ailment one might think of.

In a few decades, Raven’s work proliferated, transforming the Blackgard Union into an incredibly medically advanced nation compared to its predecessor. In tandem with significant funding from the crown, a tax system mandating medical saving, and considerable charity efforts, population growth was further buoyed beyond comparable nations. Raven was the primary figure that made that possible.

Many claim that far more sinister studies were kept quiet; the creation of false humans, surgeries that could modify the body to reach greater heights, and other such tales. Some of that is verifiable—Argrave himself testifies to Raven’s aid. Furthermore, all of the imperial family, even the non-spellcaster Elenore, don’t demonstrate any signs of degeneration from age. Prince Garm refrained from commenting on the subject, but did add he can’t remember any procedures done on him.

All said, there’s likely some validity to more advanced knowledge kept out of the public hand. However, rumors that Raven has a lab on the moon where he’s welcomed as consort to the leader of the lunar dragons are likely superstition.

Artur: Grand Architect

Artur is commonly said to have been burdened so much by his creative genius that the world saw fit to make him small to balance. The man himself seems entirely unaware of the gravity of his achievements, constantly driving forward to the next project. Though a crafter of weapons in the previous age, in the Age of Reclamation he was an unrelenting builder responsible for beautiful, practical cities and countless great works of art within them.

He earned the title of Maestro twice over—the first for his enchanting advancements, and the second for his subsequent mastery of earth magic. The latter was achieved during the Age of Fury, however. His greatest achievements have yet to come, but even in this age, he was a boundless fountain of ideas well worth noting.

The next and last section of this Age of Reclamation shall serve as a fitting prelude to the beginning of the Age of Fury. The imperial army became the final step in the transition to a permanent army. Even its predecessor—the standing army serving the Kingdom of Vasquer—cannot be compared to the sheer ability and discipline of the Blackgard Union’s protectors. Moreover, a true navy took to sea, defending the burgeoning trade routes opening up all along the coasts.

I eagerly look forward to discussing the army alongside my own personal experience serving under two legends, Galamon and Orion.

Epilogue 1.4: Sword and Shield

I worked as a mercenary long before I had even heard of Argrave. I fought in a few of King Felipe III’s wars of conquest, but decided to veer away from that path when I came to the conclusion that he had no regard for the lives of his men. Most other armies that I’d served in had that perspective. Levies and mercenaries were not knights—for lords and kings, they were a resource to be used and expended until consumed by the ravages of war. I was given special disregard whenever they discovered I had some elven ancestry.

I saw a hint of something different even before the end of the calamity. I simply had no idea what it might grow into. There were two that did, however.

Galamon the Great, Imperial General of the Twelve Armies, Sword of the Empire

After the war, the army established by the Kingdom of Vasquer essentially ceased to exist.

Posthumously-named Shriekers—servants of Gerechtigkeit that used sound against their enemies—ravaged their ranks. Essentially any battalion without magic support was entirely eradicated. I had the good fortune to serve under an elf named Grimalt (a Veidimen and former royal guard who is now in contention for the role of imperial general, whenever Galamon elects to relinquish the role). His magics were the only thing that preserved my life during that battle.

Before the calamity, I would place our numbers at between fifteen to twenty thousand. After? Elenore reported that only 978 soldiers reported back to duty. That figure includes both those who chose to stop fighting, and those who tragically weren’t given the luxury of choice. Suffice it to say that this fighting force was roughly equivalent to a baron in the former kingdom of Vasquer.

Galamon grew that to a standing army of 120,000 soldiers, with a far, far larger number of men able to be deployed in wartime.  Not a one of these men were drafted, conscripted, or otherwise levied.

I spoke to Galamon many times but fought under his command much more. While he lacked the effortless charisma of Orion, he nevertheless inspired an undying loyalty and respect from his men by virtue of his actions. He never gave an order that any of us thought that he wouldn’t do himself. Often a soldier would find themselves aided in a task by a stoic Veidimen, only to later realize that man was their general, not another soldier.

Galamon brought with him from Veiden ideas that disseminated throughout the army—that of discipline, of camaraderie, of a strict hierarchy from which all-encompassing strategies could play out. He brought the notion that a soldier was not merely something to be thrown against other soldiers, but one of many people encompassing the army. It was virtually a brotherhood.

Though he taught the basics of combat, far more important was the idea that soldiers and commanders working in tandem were infinitely more effective than a well-skilled combatant. That same principle could be applied to magic, even—and apply it he did. Each of the twelve imperial armies has a robust battalion of magic users, whose collaborative endeavors often astounded even the emperor and empress. 

To that end, we were as much laborers as we were fighters. Near every brick of every road, from the southernmost tip of the Burnt Desert to the frigid north, was laid by a soldier. We were overseen by engineers and architects right alongside our own commanders. Aqueducts, wells, bridges, harbors, lighthouses, canals—though typically drafted by Artur, soldiers did the work. It strengthened our bodies, taught us to follow orders, and built fellowship between one another. The empire never denied us that credit.

How did it come to that point?

In the first twenty-five years, Galamon endeavored to make the army seem a life path just as valid as tilling the land. As with its predecessor, volunteers to the army were paid. Service guaranteed validation for future applications for land settlement, alongside high subsidies. Access to healers was guaranteed, both for the soldier themselves and any relatives. Education, both magical and non-magical, was guaranteed without cost, though suitable aptitude is required for the former. It was through one such education program I learned to read and write.

Just as the benefits were increased, so too were the unpleasant aspects mitigated. The punishment for desertion was no longer death, with the exception of desertion in consort with treason. Death during service provided immense compensation for the families of the departed.

Additionally, the army was undoubtedly a place where merit reigned. It was very seldom that any of us felt we were taking orders from someone unfit and unqualified. Each and all of us watched the best among us rise up and take command, and earn honors commensurate with their efforts on and off the battlefield.

Never before have I been prouder than when I watched the emperor, the empress, and our general bestow a Sword of Esteemed Valor upon a man I called friend—a man I knew was deserving of such an honor. The respect with which we were treated slowly permeated the society that we had our hand in building. None fought harder for us than Galamon.

Though a very quiet and reserved man, Galamon does tend to speak more when it comes to matters regarding his family. His son went into civil service in the empire, serving in the north in an attempt to facilitate ease with Veidimen settlement in the region. He speaks glowing praise for his wife, who waited for him ‘far longer than [he] deserved,’ by his own words. They have a pet bear.

I could speak for hours of Galamon’s genius in the art of war. In all my years of service, he never truly lost a battle. He established many battalions using a variety of unique tactics. Wyverns, for instance, became a standard battalion under his eye. His mastery of logistics is too astounding to be quickly summarized. His use of magic in battle is so potent I struggle to imagine a foe capable of defeating them. So as not to bore the reader with page upon page of battle tactics, I shall simply leave it at this.

Galamon stands, to this day, as an exemplar of the imperial army.

Orion of Vasquer, Grandmaster of the Knights of the Sun, Shield of the Empire

After the Last Calamity ended, most assumed this acclaimed knight and brother to the emperor would continue his role as protector of the imperial family. That was true, in part. With the imperial family expanding in size, there was ample need for able protectors. Orion personally chose people to watch over the young princes and princesses.

His own twins were among the growing imperial family—a boy and a girl, born 3AC by his wife Sun Li, who he joyously named Argrave and Anneliese. He often declared his children ‘a gift for my faith,’ and ‘an endowment from the generosity of the universe.’ His daughter grew particularly attached to the community of Gilderwatchers he often visited, while his son followed in his footsteps.

Orion’s aim expanded far beyond the imperial family alone, however.

The army, grand and adaptable as it was, proved somewhat lacking when it came to one task—policing. As communities grew, that became an evident weakness. We were trained to fight enemies, follow orders, and complete the objectives the imperial court desired of us. Though we could subdue miscreants well enough, we admittedly lacked certain nuances when it came to presiding over communities.

Orion was the first to notice this issue, and thus founded the Order of the Sun in 2AC after receiving permission from the court. He petitioned in 1AC, but his eccentric request to for those in his order—including himself—to be designated ‘Slaves of the People,’ and to be legally enslaved, caused some delays.

Previously, local militias handled disputes within settlements. Orion’s intent was to do away with that system entirely. Militias and city guards were notoriously corrupt, acting more so by the whim of some city guard commander than by any genuine rule of law.

His knight-commanders were incredibly notable. Mial, daughter of the Castellan of the Empty, was virtually his right-hand. Ruleo and Georgina, both of whom fought for Felipe III, repaired their tattered reputation in service to the people. Veladrien of Jast, or ‘Stain,’ joined with the express intent of becoming a corrupt guard, only to reform beneath the enormity of Orion’s good nature. One of them wore a boar’s mask, and became an idol among children for dashing, daring deeds in defense of the citizens—he would later be immortalized in the ballad, ‘The Romantic Warrior,’ describing his long quest for the perfect master.

The structure of the Order of the Sun is incredibly loose. Knights of the order need only petition the council of knight-commanders for the right to establish a command of their own in a certain region. The rules, however, are incredibly strict. Each and every knight is expected to be a master of the law—indeed, they have to pass a civil service exam to maintain their title. Furthermore, they must prove themselves capable in combat. Whether by blade or spell, a knight must prove capable of taking down five trained men alone without seriously injuring them.

Even despite these incredibly strict requirements, the Order of the Sun is a constant presence in most major cities, and more than able to respond to the needs of far-flung settlements. So as not to be outmanned by criminals, squires also act as lesser members of the Order of the Sun. As knights-in-training, they act as an extension of the knight they serve, themselves behaving with an effective code of conduct and considerable training.

The Order of the Sun embodies the chivalry that had Orion had himself so valiantly championed in defense of his family and his world. I became a squire in 21AC to provide a more stable life for my wife and our unborn child, eventually earning the title of Knight of the Sun in 24AC. Having worked with his knight-commanders, and Orion himself, I can say with complete certainty that no one besides Orion of Vasquer could have established such an organization.

“Orion is singular. Sophia once told me about her fantasy of a perfect knight. Well… she pictures Orion now, I suspect. I couldn’t do what he’s done,” said Argrave during a public ceremony, where someone mentioned the Order of the Sun.

To that point, many have speculated if the Order of the Sun could persist without Orion’s stewardship. Indeed, even the prime minister has had such concerns, at times publicly floating the idea of beginning to transition into an organization more closely-entwined with local governance. The notion received such strong pushback that it’s yet to be brought up again.

By rumor, Orion is the founder of another order founded in the Age of Reclamation—the Order of the Moon. These knights are equal to those of the Order of the Sun, but operate knowing that their deeds will receive no fame. They receive guidance from lunar dragons and the prime minister, helping ferret out conspiracies against the court, breaking up organized crime before it begins, and revealing powerful supernatural creatures like vampires before they can do harm. 

I write possessing no proof of the subject, only my testimony as a Knight of the Sun. I believe the Order of the Moon does exist in some capacity—whether under that name, I cannot say. To what extent their influence reaches, I cannot begin to guess. But all too often, burgeoning gangs would crumble unnaturally, and the bulk of the credit would fall upon us Knights of the Sun as if by providence.

The next section of this work will cover the Age of Fury, where both of these organizations were put to the test.

Epilogue 2.1: Preface

The Age of Reclamation was a period of great prosperity. The times after the Last Calamity represented the greatest period of opportunity that the wider populace would be granted for all time, ostensibly. Bolstered by lack of competition, solidarity after suffering, advances in healing arts, and exceptional government, the diminished population exploded toward previous levels.

By the end of this age, the general consensus is that the population had recovered from its losses—an astounding fact, though somewhat marred by the knowledge that much of this population were yet to reach the age of majority. The imperial court incentivized forming families, offering not only tax exemptions but subsidies and land settlement priority for those with children.

These policies, in tandem with the countless other benefits offered by the age, created a thriving generation of young men and women with intense national pride, many of whom reached their adulthood in 25AC or some few years before it. These children had grown up seeing the constant efforts of the government to erect a civilization from the dirt, alongside tremendous support for their parents in all their endeavors. The soil of the age was incredibly plentiful, and advances in farming made laborious fieldwork less necessary than ever. This freed these young men and women to pursue other lines of work.

Many men ended up joining the imperial army, holding tremendous loyalty toward the Blackgard Union, the emperor and empress, and the soil upon which they stood. As much was encouraged by the zeitgeist of the age. Galamon deemed women more important for the growth of the country than men, and thus restricted their enlistment outside of spellcasting roles. They were, however, increasingly welcomed to become skilled laborers or civil servants. The prominence of figures such as the empress or the prime minister eroded many biases of the previous age. Indeed, the civil service likely had more women than men at this point.

I describe this scene to the reader to set the stage for the beginning of the Age of Fury. Hot-blooded youths with pride in their hearts and love for their country far outnumbered those with scars from the calamity. Part of this had been deliberately fostered by the imperial court for the sake of stability, but much of it was the natural results of the magnificence of the Age of Reclamation.

Thus, the time that came to be known the Age of Fury unfolded.

Age of Fury, 26-37AC

The seed that sprouted into the inciting incident that would spark the Age of Fury had arguably been sown before the Last Calamity had ended. Argrave’s coup of the Great Chu led to its emperor being reestablished with little power. The majority of that power was turned over to him as its military commander—the Grand Commandant. Upon his departure from the Great Chu, the role of Grand Commandant had been turned over to his father-in-law, Patriarch Dras.

After the Last Calamity, the Veidimen under Dras’ command were less damaged than the fighting forces of the Great Chu. It’s a hotly contested point whether or not Dras deliberately sacrificed human lives to preserve Veidimen. Regardless, the military force of the Great Chu was effectively wiped out, and much of its martial tradition necessary to raise new armies ceased to exist. This enabled Dras and his Veidimen to cement highly-effective control over the nation.

It could easily be claimed that Patriarch Dras was more effective than the Blackgard Union at uniting the land. Order was restored incredibly quickly. Emperor Ji Meng remained the nominal emperor, and Dras maintained his position as Grand Commandant. With that as pretext, the survivors of the Great Chu were quickly reunited. Indeed, it was as though the nation had never broken at all.

It could not be claimed, however, that Dras established as effective a government.

Dras saw the merit of the robust imperial bureaucracy and the thriving network of canals connecting the cities. He endeavored to rebuild these institutions and infrastructures. Rather than employing the citizens of the Great Chu who were already well-accustomed to such apparatuses of the state, he elected to prioritize Veidimen for what was being built.

To this point, Garm has commentary.

The notion behind what he was doing was simple. The imperial bureaucracy had already shown entirely capable of subverting an emperor. Even a strong ruler like Ji Meng had been effectively puppeteered by their machinations. Dras hoped to avoid such a mistake by establishing loyalists to take the place of what had been.

The favoritism, however, was quite glaring. To have both the troops guarding your cities and the people administering your lives be Veidimen? The snow elves were a fair people, certainly. They took to the intricacies of the system very well, likely because their now-dead god, Veid, so strongly promoted values such as honor, fairness, and legalism.

Regardless, Dras continued to press the issue. Veidimen men were encouraged to take additional spouses of Great Chu women, while Veidimen women were strongly discouraged from seeking Great Chu grooms. Veidimen were practically exempt from castration as a punishment, while every single imperial eunuch was human. Veidimen further received unspoken priority in the distribution of land, and consequently, reaped much of the opportunity that all enjoyed in the Blackgard Union.

Nothing was law, but it was undoubtedly terribly unfair. Year after year, it bred resentment like water slowly boiling. The Veidimen population expanded near as massively as the Blackgard Union had. Great Chu natives were able to ignore this for a time because they weren’t actively impeded… but as both populations grew, conflict took root.

This point greatly concerned both my mother and father. They sent inquiries to Dras—polite protests, reminding him that what he was doing could have dire consequences. These requests did have some impact, curbing certain practices, but it was clear that greater action would need to be taken to fix things before they erupted. Already, violent incidents were sparking across the Great Chu.

To that end, my brother Enrico eagerly suggested that he be allowed to head a diplomatic mission to the Great Chu to help rein in the excesses of Dras’ regime. He considered himself perfect for the role, possessing our father’s dark hair, our mother’s amber eyes, and subtly elven ears—the very picture of a man half-human, half-Veidimen. ‘The very picture of unity,’ as he often said in attempts to persuade the court.

In the end, our parents relented. Enrico was appointed head diplomat, assigned a large guard of Knights of the Sun, and given leave to head overseas to help resolve the situation in the Great Chu before it turned into a civil war. He was welcomed with open arms into the imperial palace, where he was greeted by a banquet celebrating the eve of the twenty-sixth year after the end of the calamity hosted by Emperor Ji Meng and Dras. The rest is too painful for me to recount, so I shall leave to my colleague to cover.

By surviving eyewitness account, the banquet went quite well. Patriarch Dras admitted some excesses on the aspects of his rule. The burgeoning violence worried him—though his people had prospered greatly, they were still greatly outnumbered and knew this terrain less than many of its natives. He claimed it to be “…entirely unreasonable to assume that [Veidimen] could continue on as [they] have.”

Regardless, this event was cut short by an ambush. Patriarch Dras’ head allegedly exploded into gore as he raised a toast to cooperation between man and elf. From there, armed assailants supported by spellcasters stormed the imperial palace. It turned into a massacre in moments. Survivors claim every single Knight of the Sun perished in defense of Enrico. The entire diplomatic mission was wiped out entirely.

The young Prince Enrico, nineteen years of age and yet a B-rank spellcaster, defended himself as best he could. He escaped the banquet hall, yet a foul poison concocted to turn the black blood in his veins against him eventually took his life. He was later found in the imperial gardens sitting by the roots of a tree, his fingers clutching a necklace that his mother had personally crafted for him.

To this day, the identities of the assailants isn’t public knowledge. Whether the imperial court kept that private, or whether they themselves don’t know, there are many speculations.

Some suggest that Patriarch Dras was the architect behind the incident. Most disbelieve this in light of his death, but others say it was common knowledge he wished the Blackgard Union to inherit his domain. Moreover, his Veidimen-centric policies alongside simultaneous cooperation with the Blackgard Union strike many as contradictory, implying a deeper motive. They suggest he wished to give the Blackgard Union no choice but to involve themselves in the affairs of the Great Chu.

Others point to Emperor Ji Meng. As an S-rank spellcaster, he was one of the few able to escape from the banquet alive, even if injured. He had the most to gain from the overthrow of the Veidimen yoke, and may have carried a grudge against Argrave for his role in his diminishing power. Opponents to this theory argue that Ji Meng had grown highly-accustomed to his powerless role, spending far more time with his family.

Regardless, emperor and empress soon received the news of their child’s death. And in the Great Chu, organized opposition rose up, headed by someone who was to become the crux of the Age of Fury. This person was proven beyond a shadow of a doubt to be unrelated to the assassins, but nevertheless carried on their ideas.

Epilogue 2.2: Phoenix

When asked of his parent’s reaction to his brother Enrico’s death, Prince Garm had only this to say.

I thought I had seen my mother and father truly angry before that point. I was wrong. Terribly wrong. They were angry most of all at themselves. They hated what they saw as complacency, and they would never forget what yielding for love of their son had earned them. They became far stricter. The pain of losing a child made them hesitant to have any more.  

By some reports, the emperor and the empress arrived in the heartland of the Great Chu the very next day, where any and all related to the attacks were weeded out to meet excruciatingly painful ends. Whatever the exact date, they did appear extraordinarily fast. As Dras’ named successor, Anneliese received the immediate loyalty of the Veidimen, who sought both protection and vengeance against their enemies in equal measure.

Speaking from personal experience, I can say only that fury was mirrored in all of the people of the Blackgard Union. Mothers and fathers cried as though their own child had been the one to perish. Brothers and sisters raged for vengeance as if to claim it for their own kin. The death of Prince Enrico became characterized as an attack against the Blackgard Union and all that it stood for, and those that had benefitted so immensely reacted as though it was at jeopardy.

General Galamon mobilized the army shortly after emperor and empress arrived, employing the whole of the Blackgard Union’s fleet to transport four of the twelve armies overseas. This fighting force was four times in size that which had invaded the Great Chu before the last calamity, and unlike before, met no concerted opposition at the shores.

Some consider the weeks following the result of grieving parents forced to make decisions that couldn’t possibly be divorced from emotions. Others suggest that things were already too far gone by the time the empress and emperor had arrived. Regardless, the situation escalated very quickly.

Great Chu natives attacked Veidimen enclaves. Blackgard soldiers responded to these attacks more zealously than they should have.  These excesses led to yet more attacks, and more attacks demanded more drastic enforcement methods. It was a vicious and self-perpetuating cycle which continued to devolve, even despite interference from Emperor Ji Meng.

This escalation led to the rise of a woman who would come to be known as the Phoenix.

Su Mei, the Phoenix

An S-rank spellcaster, Su Mei came from a family of a former governor treated particularly harshly by Veidimen rule. By her own testimony, all seven of her sisters were essentially sold off as brides. There is enough corroboration for this that it cannot be disputed. She, herself, suffered at the hands of an abuser until a respected Veidimen elder named Rowe the Righteous discovered the situation, taking her as his pupil as compensation. Her region was a noted hotbed of corruption, sandwiched between barbarian tribes and a large concentration of Veidimen who proved cruel administrators.

She was twenty-seven at the time she claimed the title of Phoenix. She earned her title by virtue of her A-rank ascension. Her body became fire given form. The specifics of her ascension are unclear, but both death and capture proved impossibilities for conventional spellcasters. She expended great effort to avoid both the emperor and empress, who themselves were stretched thin between both Berendar and her homeland.

In 26AC, she and a group numbering about one hundred began a campaign of guerilla warfare against the Veidimen regime and in time the Blackgard Union defending it. She was reported slain eighty-seven times—after each supposed death, she would return only a few days later. Su Mei refined and cultivated this image of a phoenix deliberately, claiming it as both an icon for herself and the idea that she represented; the Great Chu, razed to the ground yet rising from the ashes born again.

In time, a very large contingent of people began to follow her example. Though entirely separate, they worked around the nation, each and all bearing the symbol of the phoenix. Hers became a legend that spread throughout the whole of the Great Chu. Though initially a movement to expel occupying forces alone, it soon became couched in notions of superiority and xenophobia.

Veidimen became the target of widescale attacks. As a result of this rapidly deteriorating situation, the majority of the Blackgard Union’s efforts turned to evacuating Veidimen refugees, bringing affected families to Berendar by the thousands. These families, who had become the backbone of the bureaucracy, represented a very severe deterioration in the governance of the Great Chu.

Banditry, local warlords, and general chaos took root in many regions of the area. By this point, the majority of the Blackgard Union’s imperial army was necessitated to maintain some semblance of order in the nation. Emperor Ji Meng remained ‘frustratingly idle’ by several accounts, only exerting effort to be sure the imperial palace and the city it presided over remained unaffected.

It became extremely difficult for the imperial army to counterattack, not merely because of the style of warfare employed, but because attacks so often came from those citizens who they were allegedly here to keep safe. It was a bitter, thankless war that made morale in the army suffer greatly. Only the exceptional discipline of General Galamon kept it from turning into an outright conquest.

At some point, Su Mei saw greater evil in those attempting to fight against Veidimen occupation than those she’d began the fight against. She said the following in an address to her followers at 30AC:

“Four years we’ve fought… and all for something neither wants. We’ve set a fire in our own home because of an invader. Unless something is done, we’ll have naught but ashes left, and the invader will have simply walked out, barely singed.”

And indeed, this war in the Great Chu proved most damaging to the nation itself. Disruption of supply lines caused near-famines narrowly averted by humanitarian efforts spearheaded by Princess Sophia of Vasquer. Far more citizens died than soldiers of the imperial army because of the so-called Phoenix Insurrection.  

In 31AC, Su Mei appeared before the empress, using her old pupil Rowe the Righteous to help arrange the meeting. Initially suspected as an assassination attempt, the empress herself told the Knights of the Sun who rushed to her defense to stand down. There, with the encouragement of Rowe, Su Mei surrendered to the empress. By rumor, the empress herself helped Su Mei stand, saying that she didn’t wish for surrender—merely peace. According to the knights I spoke to who guarded the empress, this story is exaggerated. Su Mei surrendered and was detained as a prisoner of war.

Regardless of the story’s truth, Su Mei’s capture shook the nation and marked the turning point of the age. Initially, the fighting became far more intense—one final push, in desperate defiance of what felt inevitable. In time, however, the spirit of the fighting was greatly subdued. The emperor and empress, in concert with Su Mei, travelled the region, helping to establish peace with local pockets of resistance.

Most prominently, what could be considered a tremendous concession was made—the people of the Great Chu themselves were given the right to choose who would lead them. The majority of public offices were made elected. This came alongside extending equal protections to all citizens. To the natives of the Great Chu, who now vastly outnumbered Veidimen or other foreigners, this seemed both a natural conclusion to what they had been fighting for, and a more-than-fair compromise.

By 35AC, fighting persisted in only small pockets on the fringe of the Great Chu. The imperial army’s presence began to dwindle as more and more returned to Berendar, their services unnecessary. Some Veidimen families even began to return with the guarantees of law, but a larger majority remained in the Blackgard Union, where they thrived in the northern regions and as traders.

In 36AC, Anneliese, in her capacity as Dras’ heir and Grand Commandant, pardoned Su Mei for ‘extraordinary contrition and efforts to repent.’ Prince Garm claims his parents considered proposing a marriage with his brother Prince Castro, but eventually decided against that to avoid setting a precedent that would be difficult to break.

The conclusion of the Age of Fury in 37AC came with the declaration that the Blackgard Union would be minimizing its presence in the Great Chu. Some coastal fortresses would remain manned and were officially ceded to the Blackgard Union, but they were largely barren territories with no value beyond strategic and garnered no significant controversy.

Additionally, the title of Grand Commandant held its first election in 37AC when Anneliese ceded the title. In this first election, by contrast to future ones, the governors alone voted to elect the Grand Commandant. Su Mei was a contender in the election, and though she achieved widespread support, it was feared she had become a so-called ‘tamed phoenix.’

Another peacemaker with sympathies to the Blackgard Union won out over her, a man by the name of Mo Hui. His election generated some controversy, as it was purportedly manipulated by the Blackgard Union. To respond to these concerns, Grand Commandant became a position elected by the wider populace, not the governors alone.

Su Mei worked closely alongside Grand Commandant Mo Hui, helping to officially sign the Treaty of the New Dawn at the end of 37AC. This treaty officially demoted the emperorship of the Great Chu, putting into law what had been practice for many years. Emperor Ji Meng made no significant comments one way or the other. It additionally made very generous concessions to the Blackgard Union, essentially conjoining their economies and making their military highly dependent on the empire itself.

The Phoenix, Su Mei, stood as a major catalyst in the Age of Fury—both toward its escalation and de-escalation. In the decades to come, she remained active politically, endeavoring to foster ties between the Blackgard Union and the Great Chu. She became Grand Commandant in 47AC after Mo Hui’s ten-year term, and remains a hero of her people idolized even more than the emperor once was.

The Blackgard Union wasn’t devastated by the events of the Great Chu, but it was a time of noted unrest. Citizens were disappointed by the years of war without result, and thought that the imperial court was being unduly soft by refraining from annexing the land as they had the rest of Berendar. Veidimen refugees—many of whom were culturally alien polygamists, in defiance of Blackgard law—also proved a point of distress.

The Age of Fury from the perspective of the homeland can best be typified by the princes and princesses of the era, who I’ll focus on for the next section. This was a transitory phase, marking the beginning of a dramatic shift in the Blackgard Union as emperor and empress saw the child they’ve reared near adulthood. Indeed, I would not be the first to call it the teenage years of the nation.

Epilogue 2.3: Noticed Imperfections

The governance of the Blackgard Union, and the imperial family as proxy for it, was as much a product of excellent circumstance as it was excellent governance. Without the Last Calamity as a foundational event, it’s highly unlikely that such sweeping and effective changes could be implemented. It was a great reset of the board, leaving behind a power vacuum that was taken advantage of for positive effect.

In the Age of Fury, cracks in the foundation began to show themselves.  These cracks were even apparent in the imperial family, who reeled after learning of Prince Enrico’s death. It affected their largely blissful lives deeply. The necessity of controlling the situation in the Great Chu meant that their parents weren’t as present as they normally were, and this generation of the imperial family grew up differently because of that.

Third Princess Rose of Vasquer

Born 10AC

As the eldest, Rose was least affected by the Age of Fury. Named either for a birthmark on her neck or after the daughter of the former House Parbon, Rose has proven to be her mother’s daughter in more than appearance alone. She is a scholar of some acclaim, a magic researcher, and a curiosity-seeker who remained largely uninterested in other people during the whole of her childhood and most of her adulthood. She and her father were quite close before the Age of Fury, but its events put some distance between them.

During the Age of Fury, she was the one to discover and publicize the cause of Prince Enrico’s death—specifically, a poison that targeted the magic within the imperial family’s black blood. That finding further stoked the flames of rage prevailing in the country at the time, because it meant it was a deliberate attack on the imperial family. Garm claims that she expressed regret for publicizing this fact, as it only added fuel to the fire.

Beyond her own work, she patronized institutions that discovered great things under her direction. Most notable among these discoveries is the printing press, black powder, the microscope, and most what would become the foundation of the form of power vital in the Age of Revolutions.

She took little credit for each of these discoveries, claiming her father’s stories had inspired the majority of them.

Fourth Princess Lieselotte of Vasquer

Born 11AC

Much like her older sister Rose, she and her father were quite close before the Age of Fury. Lieselotte took after her father the most of any of the children. She was mischievous, deceptive, but nevertheless good-natured. Prince Garm claims the other children called her ‘lies a lot,’ playing off her name. Father and daughter fed off each other’s humor, bringing an air of levity to the imperial family.

When Argrave was forced to head to the Great Chu, her shift was dramatic. In the following years, Lieselotte often rejected her name—even her father’s nickname, Lisa. She began to act out, refusing classes, sending away tutors, and generally causing trouble at important functions. When her actions nearly caused a serious diplomatic incident in 30AC, Argrave called upon Law, a former deity, to act as her mentor.  She was taken to a secluded area, where she remained quiet for three years—perhaps only because there was no one around to hear her protests.

Lieselotte learned under Law for three years. When she returned, a woman of twenty-two, she was changed. Much like her father, she had become quieter and more restrained, even if her fundamental nature was still intact. One hundred percent of her effort turned toward breaking up unrest. She would soothe the anger of those dissatisfied with the lack of progress in the war. She would communicate with governors upset by the lack of manpower. Though never involved in governance, she undoubtedly had a tremendously large influence on the politics of the age.

Fourth Prince Elimar of Vasquer

Born 13 AC

Elimar was very close to his older brother, Enrico. His death impacted the then twelve-year-old child immensely. The boy, described as a clumsy giant, became very staunchly militaristic as he grew. In 31AC, on his eighteenth birthday, he attempted to join the imperial army as a common soldier. His parents, fearing for their son’s life, dissuaded this path. He remained stubbornly committed to soldiering all the same. One day, in anger, Prince Garm recalls his father saying this:

“You’re my son, and I love you, but Enrico was almost too much for this family to bear. Remember who you are. Know your place.”

Even despite this cold rebuke, Elimar was persistent. When rumor began to spread that the emperor was denying his son the right to be a soldier in the Blackgard Union, the mere idea provoked a public protest in Blackgard. The imperial court’s hand was forced, and Elimar became a soldier in the imperial army near the end of 31AC, six months after his initial request.

Elimar was placed under extremely harsh commanders, perhaps in hopes their strictness would cause him to return home. Their training, however, only fed the flame inside of him. He was passed over for promotion many times, but bore no resentment.  By the end of his first year of training, he had become a man of tremendous stature, standing larger than even Orion.

His prowess in both the battlefield and the magical arts was notable. In 36AC, at the age of twenty-three, he achieved his A-rank ascension. He had inherited the ascension of his mother, who was less opposed to his dream of military life. There was always some conflict between Argrave and Elimar, but Anneliese kept them bridged, understanding both her boys often better than themselves.

Elimar would become a far more notable figure in the Age of Revolutions, serving as second to one of the central figures of the age.

Fifth Prince Vincent of Vasquer

Born 15AC

Vincent was born missing an eye, and lacked the magical aptitude of his siblings. No healing magic could restore his missing eye as his body had simply developed without it, and he made little effort to correct it even as he aged. Instead, he merely wore a patch with a ruby over his empty socket most of the time. His disabilities, magical or physical, never seemed to bother him. Some regarded him as a cursed child, but his parents and siblings were fiercely protective of him all the same. This attitude only increased after the Age of Fury began.

In time, he became a rather listless, even lazy, prince who was viewed as unusually wise—great potential wasted by coddling, according to some. He lived a very quiet life, refraining from any involvement with imperial politics. Elenore thought highly of him, and eventually, by Prince Garm’s words, ‘roped him into managing some of her business interests.’ He also said that Vincent was ‘incapable of feeling anger,’ and would ‘readily forgive someone for stabbing him in the heart.’ Petty insults and attacks meant nothing to him. He often laughed at any assaults, even when his younger sibling once punched a tooth out of his mouth.

The only one who could motivate him to action was Sophia, whom he had a lasting connection with. Some claimed his interest was romantic, but Vincent vehemently refuted that, saying that she ‘has always been my sister, now and forever.’ Indeed, she eventually pushed him into a marriage with the daughter of Lorena, leader of the lunar dragons, in 37AC.

In 35AC he defused a largescale attack on Veidimen refugees by suggesting the offenders beat him instead, and is claimed to have said the following:

“After all, we’re all citizens of the Blackgard Union. I’ve done far more deserving of a beating, even if none of you know the truth of it.”

This incident earned him some reputation as a protector of refugees and defender of polygamy, which was the primary cause of the upset. Prince Garm claimed he loathed the reputation, and often said that ‘one wife is too many,’ and that ‘he never would’ve bothered if it meant getting so much attention.’ Regardless, his actions helped integrate Great Chu Veidimen into the Blackgard Union.

Sixth Prince Theodore of Vasquer

Born 17AC

Theodore, in his youth, could be described as a timid, even tepid child. The death of his brother Enrico proved to only exacerbate these problems that he was already facing in his youth. It wasn’t until he began to enter educational institutions that his shell finally began to crack, and he fully took part in things that interested him. Arts, culture, music—he became a part of a burgeoning movement arising in many cities, a natural repercussion of the transition toward a more urban society.

Though it wouldn’t be for some years that these movements truly became a part of the wider Blackgard Union, there’s no denying that Theodore, as a representative of the beloved imperial family, paved the way for this change. Some claim that he remained timid his whole life because he championed pacifistic, isolationist ideas that most couched as ‘idealistic, yet naïve.’ Prince Garm described him as ‘the dreamer of the family,’ and said that his hatred of war was rooted in the fact that it had disturbed so much of his idyllic childhood.

He never achieved great renown, eventually deciding to help his older sister Sophia in 36AC, where he would show similar compassion to the struggles of the broader world as she did. The movements that he’d been a part of carried on in the wake of his absence, however, and would move on to shake the foundation of the Blackgard Union in the Age of Revolutions.

Though the fifth princess had reached the age of majority within the Age of Fury, her presence bears far more significance in the Age of Revolutions, and as such, her profile will held until that point.

The imperial court was very careful in refraining from pushing their children toward prominent positions, doubly so after the assassination of Prince Enrico. Nevertheless, as the rulers of the nation, countless eyes were upon the imperial family, taking them as example.

Prince Elimar’s joining of the army and his public views on the war had a great effect in the populace. Princess Rose’s focus on scholarship and technology, too, disseminated throughout the wider populace. Lieselotte’s protests in her youth, coupled with her change in adulthood, alongside Theodore’s idealistic pacifism, created burgeoning and disparate notions among the increasingly educated class of landholders. Even Vincent—in claiming himself equal to Veidimen refugees accepted as citizens—had a substantial impact in the attitudes of the age.

Though the imperial family was largely isolated from the day-to-day occurrence of what it meant to be a citizen of the Blackgard Union, there was no denying that their respective personalities helped inform the citizens just as the emperor and empress had in years past. Particularly among young people, who were incredibly numerous, they stood as example. 

Nevertheless, the imperial family alone cannot adequately inform the reader of the of the sweeping, almost palpable unrest throughout the whole of the Union. In the next section, I’ll provide some of my own testimony as a Knight of the Sun in a major city, alongside some insights into prominent figures of the time who came to meaningfully oppose the imperial court.

Epilogue 2.4: Philosophy and Theology

As life became about more than merely survival, the minds of the people gradually drifted toward the questions that have plagued them for all eternity. Life, and its infinite mysteries, remained unanswered. The reason for being, especially after enduring the destruction of the Last Calamity, felt more pertinent for people than ever.

Those questions created thousands of answers, each with their own philosophies toward life and their own explanations of the machinations of the world. This was, in most circumstances, largely harmless. People of different cultures propagated the gods that they had worshipped before the Calamity. Some took the mantles of their dead gods, such as the Veidimen with Veid. These ideas took root, creating regional, religious, and cultural divides in the nation that before had been united behind a national identity.

In this arena, however, the Blackgard Union and the imperial court gave only silence. Traditions and cultures, provided they didn’t breach the law of the land itself, were not curtailed. By example, the way of the elves of the Bloodwoods propagated to a large number of citizens as they spread from their forest to the rest of the land. More often than not, this was without incident. That changed as time marched on.

Their blind eye toward matters of faith and philosophy could perhaps be considered the biggest failing of the imperial court. As with most truths, only one can generally prevail, and conflict brewed because of their policy of non-interference. A time of war where soldiers were sent overseas proved to be the ignition for an explosion, internally.

I shall try to remain unbiased in my interpretation of these faiths and their founders, some of which persist today. I shall note, however, that I consider myself an adherent of the Word of Law, which has since become the de facto state philosophy, and claim no personal faith.

Divine Imperialism

The philosophy of the Cult of Divine Imperialism can be gleaned from its title alone. It is unique from several other faiths in this section because it was an idea that permeated the populace long before it was formally founded, and there was no individual prophet who came to preach its dictates. Rather, a council of adherents created a formal structure not long after the war in the Great Chu began.

Their canon preaches the notion that Argrave is a being from a higher world who was sent to this realm as its savior after studying and mastering it in isolated study. Once there, the fairest and most intelligent maiden of the age, Anneliese, was offered to him as tribute by the world itself to continue his divine bloodline. The imperial family, thus, are the descendants of higher beings, and must be accorded absolute respect and worship.

It proved a stabilizing aspect of the nation, but as its formal structure and missionaries spread the faith, overtures from the government came to combat its ideas. Followers were often radical, proposing acts of extreme violence against the Great Chu and further assaulting people that questioned the actions of the imperial court. Dealing with these people was an incredibly delicate act of diplomacy, because suggesting that the imperial family was as human as everyone else put into question their right to rule to begin with.

Even a direct announcement from Argrave that he was not divine proved to be insufficient to totally destroy the cult. It persisted, some insisting that one of their emperor’s mandates was that he could not reveal himself as divinity under any circumstances. They did heed his second request, however, which promoted pacifism toward nonbelievers.

The cult has dwindled drastically in succeeding decades, but still persists as a formal institution to this day.

Arcanism

Founded by Leopold Dandalan

A patrician of the city of Relize and a B-rank spellcaster, Leopold survived the Last Calamity and achieved A-rank not long after, eventually rising to achieve S-rank. Already at an advanced age by the time he achieved this, the force of magic revitalized his flesh, returning him to a younger appearance. Some have suggested that the man who goes by Leopold is merely being impersonated by a talented spellcaster, but he disproved this on several occasions.

Leopold’s family, the Dandalans, were devastated by the Last Calamity. Ninety-eight percent of his incredibly large family—all of whom were his sons, grandchildren, or of even further descent—died during its course. His newborn son and wife were among those claimed. After, the city of Relize and all of its institutions effectively ceased to exist. Everything that he earned had been shattered—his empire of commerce, his gargantuan family, and all of his holdings turned to ash. overnight

By all reports, it broke him. He was presumed dead for many years until he returned to where Relize had once stood and began to preach his faith in 4AC. To him, magic had gone beyond a tool. It was truth. It was life itself. It was rebirth and recreation. Mastery of magic and its expression in the form of spells was an act of faith itself.

In particular, Leopold preached of something that he’d glimpsed beyond S-rank. In his Book of the Arcane, his descriptions of what waited beyond the barrier and his dictates for all those who seek to reach it eventually became creed for his followers. They refused the title of spellcaster, instead claiming themselves Arcanists.

Leopold’s astounding story of revitalization resonated with countless people. The imperial court themselves offered condolences, giving him the opportunity to take what remained of his family and rebuild it in a particularly valuable stretch of land in 7AC. Leopold, however, refused this in way of asking for support in getting his Arcanists to permeate the education system.

Though initially a tremendous positive for the nation, disseminating magic education to all those who were willing, it was very quickly coopted into a notion of stratification. The imperial court relied on the Arcanists to educate all those with magical talent, but in so doing, created a generation of young Arcanists who held ideas that were often fundamentally incompatible with the laws of the empire.

Even traditional sects of Arcanism encouraged—or even forced—sterilization upon the less magically gifted. Extremist sects promoted executing people that showed no reaction to magic, deeming them having been rejected by their divine force. Leopold never promoted either practice directly, encouraging ‘adherence to the law of the land.’ He never took direct action or gave direct reprimand, however, earning him censure from the Prime Minister.

In the end, the imperial court took it upon themselves to stomp out extremism in the Arcanist structure during the Age of Fury. This led to violent confrontations on occasion, and considering most were adept spellcasters, included a fair share of collateral damage. Arcanists were entirely forbidden from preaching doctrine in magic schools, which led to significant unrest. Furthermore, certain extremist sects were deemed ‘enemies of public safety,’ and outlawed entirely.

The most prominent incident, however, came in 36AC. The imperial court, frustrated with inaction from Leopold, practically forced pacifistic reformations in the taught creed of the Arcanists by law. This caused wide-scale protests, damaged the economy a great deal, and nearly resulted in a full-scale rebellion. Fortunately, Leopold’s public acquiescence to the Bill of Preservation of Safety marked a quieting of extremism from Arcanists.

The faith remains prominent among spellcasters of the modern age, with noted influence still persisting in education simply because the taught values of their faith encourage teaching magic to all. Both learning and teaching magics are considered acts of faith and devotion. To this day, Arcanist families practice arranged marriages designed to foster magical talent, and exhibit prejudice toward those unwilling or unable to utilize magic.

Suns’ Creed

Founded by Lucien Lahart

In 8AC, Lucien claims to have experienced an out-of-body experience wherein he found himself transported to the sun in the sky. There, he saw every living soul in the world bound together in a network by the power of two beings. He claimed these beings to be the two suns that existed before their dramatic transformation that occurred shortly before the advent of the Last Calamity. From them, he received the Creed of the Suns, which he authored in feverish pain for three days.

The Creed establishes that every living being’s soul is in possession of the suns. Every action they take, from their first breath to their last, is being judged by them. When the time comes for death, the suns decide the worth of their life. Their soul is then shattered and projected out as sunlight, giving birth to new life in an endless cycle of reincarnation. If one follows the Creed of the Suns, their new life is promised to be that of happiness and joy. If one does not, their new life will be dull, gray, miserable, and fleeting.

The Creed’s fundamental values are unproblematic. It promotes the notion of being as the suns are—protective of those in your community, totally generous toward all others, warm, and life-giving. Its priesthood follow this well, working for welfare in the region in service of their missionary work. Issues only arose due to the absolutism of its doctrine.

To adherents, the Suns’ Creed is the only truth, and all others are misguided at best, and malicious at worst. This antagonism was manageable at first, and Lucien’s insistence on pacifism earned him vast support. When Lucien was murdered, however, he ceased to be a moderating influence on his people. In particular, conflicts with the so-called ‘lunatics’ responsible for Lucien’s murder erupted throughout the nation.

Lunar Dragon Worship

Founded by an unnamed lunar dragon

Both the name of the faith and its founder are only able to be spoken by the unique jaw and mouth structure of a dragon’s body, and attempting to transcribe either would draw ire from those I would rather remain unprovoked. They believe the lunar dragons to be divine emissaries, given power by their god the moon to see all that takes place in the world. In their communications with the moon, they are the mouthpiece of the divine. Non-draconic adherents endeavor to learn to understand the tongue of the dragons even if they cannot speak it, and in so doing, are given great esteem by their fellows. 

To this day, the worship of lunar dragons remains highly controversial, reclusive, and isolated. Though initially open to all, the murder of Lucien Lahart by a dragon worshipper provoked tremendous backlash. Since then, they were branded with the derogative ‘lunatics,’ and driven out from most organized society. Lorena, technical leader of the lunar dragons, has personally denounced the faith, decrying it as egomania and delusion in service of selfishness.

The particulars of their faith are known only to those who can understand the tongue of the dragons. As I do not count myself among that number, and because countless rumors exist that muddy the truth of the matter, I will refrain from attempting to summarize it further than I have. Suffice it to say, the Age of Fury marked a time of great conflict between those of the Suns’ Creed and those who worship the lunar dragons.

Word of Law

Founded by former deity, Law

To preempt any accusations of bias, I shall begin this profile describing the prevailing criticisms of the text published in 35AC.

The text called Word of Law began circulating around the height of the troubles between the Suns’ Creed, the lunar dragon worshippers, and the Arcanists—35AC. The text was printed very widely, and was proclaimed from the largest city to the smallest town. Some suggest such coordination is the deliberate effort of the imperial court to spread their own ideas to the people.

This idea is supported by the fact Argrave prevailed upon Law to help with his ornery daughter, Liesolette. The Word of Law could easily be claimed as one of the core values of the Blackgard Union, lending further evidence. Moreover, in my time as a Knight of the Sun, I did see unusually easy access to the text. Countless such anecdotes exist describing the ease at which the Word of Law proliferated society. It would be disingenuous to dismiss that fact.

To that criticism, I can say only this; its physical spread may not have been natural, but its reach into the hearts and minds of the people of the age cannot be manufactured.

Law claims to have spent the thirty-five years after the end of the calamity writing this text. He did so searching for new meaning after the loss of his godhood. His text is highly secular, and would become the foundation of many humanist movements that would emerge in the next age. It posits the idea that it’s a moral duty to act rationally and fairly regardless of any beliefs. It further suggests that the endeavor of construction—both personally and communally—are the single greatest acts that any person can perform. Its concise, sharp language left no room for semantics, yet plenty of space for all to practice whichever faith they should please.

This text would have a profound cooling effect of the struggles of the age as people weary of conflict united beneath an encouraged notion of secularism. The promotion of this text, however, blossomed into countless political and cultural movements in the Age of Revolutions that would often end up twisting its words to their ends.

Though countless polytheistic faiths persist all around the Blackgard Unions, the ones listed were undoubtedly the most impactful during the Age of Fury. While the secular intentions of the imperial court were in effect from the beginning, they overestimated the capacity of those ideas to transfer without a proper medium. The Word of Law marked the beginning of the end of religious and cultural strife in the Blackgard Union. By 37AC, society had been reformed to accommodate the disparate beliefs and philosophies of its population.

The struggles during this timeframe would portend what was to come in the Age of Revolutions—oft times a fusion between the extremism of the Arcanists, the secularism of the Word of Law, the charitability of the Suns’ Creed, and the desire for unique divergence as seen in lunar dragon worship. It would mark a fundamental change in lifestyle as compared to the time before the Last Calamity.

I’ll explore the Age of Revolutions in the next section.

Epilogue 3.1: Preface

Ultimately, though the Age of Fury had its troubles, there’s no denying that the Blackgard Union emerged from the other side of it better than they did the years before. The Great Chu had been cemented as an economic dependent, and trade agreements were made that favored the Blackgard Union. The population continued to boom under the imperial court’s stewardship as the children of the last age began families of their own. Advances in technology permitted such large families, and new, burgeoning fields rose up to offer new opportunities just as old ones died.

The Blackgard Union was highly dynamic, and its younger generation were open—even pursuant of— changes far unlike those seen before the Last Calamity. A great many traditionalist values had been rejected—the notion of staying in the same farm generation after generation, tilling the soil until one day your children pick up the plough had died. The Age of Revolutions was the great explosion that brought to attention this trend, which before had been bubbling under the surface.

Cities in particular became larger than they ever had been. Large urban centers—the most prominent of which is the city of Blackgard—came to dominate society, in stark contrast to how rural landholders once did. No longer did nobles claiming vast tracts of farmland have unilateral influence on society—rather, things were spread out among a far larger number of people, each of whom could pursue amenities that were only the privilege of nobility. Cities were the highest expression of that change.

If what Argrave said all those years ago in the Age of Reclamation is true—that he and his wife had always intended on stepping aside—then the point could easily be made that the Age of Revolutions is the crowning achievement of their government’s reign. If that was merely something he said to persuade people, then the fact stands that the people made his words manifest. This time period marked a time where power was increasingly stripped away from the imperial court, and the Blackgard Union turned to a different manner of governance altogether.

This came to be from a myriad of factors, foremost among them being the notions of philosophy and culture sown in the last age and the rapid advance of technology supported by the crown. Productivity increased tenfold, allowing one man to do what once would take ten, or taking one hour to do what once would’ve taken ten. The Age of Revolutions is named thus because it is not merely one revolution. Rather, it encompasses the cultural, political, financial, and industrial changes of the age that buoyed not only the nation itself, but the entire world.

Age of Revolutions, 38-92 AC

The most notable fact about the Age of Revolutions is that no wars of aggression were started during its 54 years. Even in the supposedly glorious Age of Reclamation, countless warlords were put down by the might of the imperial army. This time of unprecedented peace made the army stagnate, some suggest, but nevertheless paved the way for an incredible flourishing of other aspects of the nation.

To explain the dramatic shift, it would be best to begin at the backbone of the nation. The whole of the Blackgard Union became better connected as infrastructure improved in quality. The Great Chu had canals allowing high-speed transfer, but these were laborious, expensive to maintain, and not necessarily cost-efficient. Conceptualized in the early 40s, the first railroad was laid in 51AC, bridging the major urban centers of New Relize and Blackgard. By 60AC, railroads had become so prominent one could travel from Seteth deep in the Burnt Desert to Quadreign in the heart of the north in a little less than two hours. Railcars, powered by advances in enchanting, were highly-efficient and cost-effective, and proved to be one of the backbones for a revolution in commerce.

Without war, and with the Great Chu as a solid ally, trade flourished. Veidimen displaced by the Age of Fury spearheaded trade routes. Many had lost house and home, had a seafaring tradition that still lived strong, and intimately understood the terrain of the Great Chu; their virtues were natural. Their polygamist practices had essentially died off by 40AC, and were made formally illegal in 41AC. Polygamy had technically been illegal for a long while, but the law was antiquated and difficult to enforce justly without sundering children from parents. They came to be thoroughly integrated.

Trade was one of the largest instruments for change, facilitating the transfer of ideas, goods, and wealth. Vital trade arteries, as Blackgard was, grew by virtue of the volume of traffic. The growth of trade also allowed the pet project of the crown to come into fruition: namely, paper currencies. Bills of credit—or more simply credits—came into prominence in a major way. These papers, imbued with a particular magic signature, could be exchanged for gold coins around the nation. The ease at which these could be used propelled trade to infinitely higher heights, making purchases large and small much easier and the transfer of large quantities of money more feasible.

Trade grew in tandem with another tailwind for urbanization—industrialization. Craftsmanship, artisanry, and innovation were hallmarks of the age. With power and wealth distributed more evenly among the people of the age, there was a growing demand for certain outputs—luxury products, entertainment. Industries grew to meet these needs, improving their production methods or putting creative talents to work in grand displays of artistry. What was once the reserve of the King of Vasquer became common fixtures in homes, from silk clothing to finely-carved woodworks. Certain production processes were massively streamlined. Workshops of the age came to produce one hundred times the product they had merely years before.

In the past, knowing letters and numbers was of use to only a few classes of people—merchants, nobles, and spellcasters most prominently among them. With increased urbanization, literacy and numeracy became infinitely more common things. Now, it wasn’t unusual for the children of farmers to know how to read. Farms required less labor, while opportunities arose in cities every single day. A baseline education was simply a necessity to handle a great many of new opportunities in the growing urban centers.

These forces for change, myriad as they were, might’ve faltered. In governments past, innovation and competition had been restricted by the government. Often, monopoly charters were given to certain factions to placate, win support, and promote stability. The Blackgard Union had no such practices—indeed, competition was a lauded virtue, provided it was done within the realm of what was legal. It was an undoubtedly chaotic, but highly productive sector of life in the nation.

The importance of commerce and industry cannot be overstated as a force for the changes of the time. It marked the creation of entirely new classes in society—classes that would prove to be infinitely more productive than those of the past, but also vastly larger. Society in the Berendar of yesteryear was largely focused around agriculture. While farmland remained prominent, it no longer held the heart of the nation in its grasp. Rather, those engaged in commerce and production rose to prominence.

Also of note is the shift in culture. The rise of cities had the side effect of changing the mindsets of the malleable youth. The Age of Fury in the Blackgard Union stood as an example of standing up to the authority of the government. The faiths of the day often directly resisted interference from the government, furthering the idea that governmental authority was not unquestionable. Moreover, some bore skepticism that the war in the Great Chu had been handled properly.

Art, literature, and more expressions of creativity than came be named transitioned from being expressions of beauty to expressions of life’s deeper complexities. Works of the day came to question life, death, and all that takes place between those two states of being. This represented, once again, the sea change away from the past. Gone were the days where only lords and ladies could support art, and only in service of ideas they wished promoted.

With the rise of a far larger class of powerholders came the recognition of a need for a new style of living. As people became better educated, more knowledgeable about the happenings of the world, they began to form opinions on what was happening. The natural result of those opinions came the idea that they, themselves, might have a better solution to the problems of the day.

But before they could even demand liberties… they found them granted. The government of the Blackgard Union, like a master gardener, had been carefully tending this growth. It cut away the excess elegantly, provided water where it was best suited, and above all, had amply invigorated the soil from which these revolutions sprung.

In 38AC, the imperial court was perhaps at the apex of its power. The imperial army was incredibly large, and had many able-bodied veterans in its ranks. By 92AC, the entire political landscape had shifted. Those changes are best illustrated through the lens of the imperial family, however, and so I shall save the specifics for next section which detail their changing role.

Epilogue 3.2: Usurpation or Abdication

One of the most hotly contested points of the age revolves around the debate between the idea that the imperial court ceded power deliberately, or were forced to surrender it and couched it in noble rhetoric to preserve their image. From my perspective, there are valid arguments for both.

As an argument for abdication, the simple fact is that the imperial court remained incredibly popular throughout the whole of the age. To illustrate that point, ‘Argrave’ and ‘Anneliese’ both remained the single most popular names for newborns in the Blackgard Union, a trend arguably started by Prince Orion. Moreover, there’s evidence in what they said in years past.

The argument for usurpation, however, is also feasible. The economic recovery of the Great Chu following the Age of Fury was felt clearly in the Blackgard Union. In the first half of the Age of Revolutions, the vast majority of high-quality goods used in the nation came from the Great Chu’s workshops. Their manufactories were initially far ahead of the Blackgard Union’s both culturally and technologically. The vast majority of that came from the simple fact that the Great Chu had inherited a solid foundation, but some people of the Union attributed it to their style of governance. Once this idea took root, it spread like wildfire in intellectual communities.

Prince Garm, when asked, tells all.

Of course they abdicated. Speaking firsthand, I can say my parents had accumulated intense fatigue after near a century of shepherding the unruliest herd animals of all. They enjoyed their role immensely, but Argrave in particular held certain ideals about how a truly fair and free society should function. Anneliese, meanwhile, wanted more time to delve into other hobbies, but held no such ideological bent. Elenore was entirely neutral toward the arrangement, following along with Argrave’s desire perhaps out of obligation alone. To say the least of my aunt’s ability, she certainly could’ve kept them in power if she wanted to.

But above all… there was a trace of regret in them for having so long devoted time to the empire before their children. They only came to terms with Enrico’s death once everything with the Great Chu was put behind them. As their grandchildren came into this world one-by-one, their priorities shifted, life put into perspective. I say this not because of speculation, but because they expressed as much to all of us themselves.

The Retirees

After the end of the Age of Fury, marked by the signing of the Treaty of a New Dawn at the very end of 37AC, the change in attitude of the imperial court could be seen immediately. For the first time in their long reign, the imperial family took something of a vacation. All, even Elenore, came to an event on a temperate island southeast of the Burnt Desert. Prince Garm recalls the event fondly.

My parents had arranged to have a grand portrait painted. A famous artist of the age had been brought before them, and the whole family stood in place to be painted. It was unusual, both for them to do something like this and to spend so much money on something for themselves alone. In the end, the painter chastised them several times for their inability to stand still. Even the young children were better behaved, the artist said. But… in time, they relaxed. That painting hangs proudly in their villa to this day.

Still, even there it was partly about their role. It was on that supposed ‘retreat’ they announced their plans to abolish the imperial family. Argrave was extremely firm on the subject. He hated the mere idea of a monarchy persisting. He thought it was a tremendous joke, a laughingstock, for a nation to cling to something that had so often been a tremendous detriment to the people. It was as much an ideological issue for him as it was an emotional one.

Some of us agreed with Argrave, while others disagreed strongly. For the first time, however, the Parents of the Empire gave us a voice in the fate of the imperial crown. The fact its role would be diminished wasn’t up for debate, but whether or not to persist as the recognized imperial family did. There was a shouting match between Elimar and Argrave, at one point… but eventually, Argrave was swayed. 

In closing, I remember my father saying, ‘I’m not much for tradition. They hold you back more than they prop you up. But Elimar’s right. It’s an insult to the memory of those who died in our service. Trying to escape what we did does more harm than good. I’m sorry that all of you have to deal with our past burdening you. You’re all rich, though, so we’re even.’

If a skeptical reader is to assume that my colleague, Prince Garm, is merely parroting the lines that the imperial family wishes for him to, I shall provide a very simple delineation of the gradual shift of power away from the imperial family. 

In 40AC, in response to a petition that formed after removing a particularly well-loved governor from his post, the right for the imperial court to unilaterally revoke appointed governors was surrendered. Instead, an independent arbitration board became required for stripping a governor of their post, to be chosen at random from qualified candidates.

In 41AC, two institutions were granted autonomy from the imperial court. The first is the Union Reserve, the independent central bank watching over the economy. It handled both minting coins and producing bills of credit, and oversaw the gradual transition between the two. The second was the Body of Educational Standards, or BES, which assumed sole responsibility for ensuring the qualifications for candidates of civil service.

The BES was notably founded by the fifth princess, Gisele, herself a somewhat controversial figure for persecution of Arcanists. She spearheaded the program known as BEST—Body of Educational Standards Training—that all candidates, even those of today, must pass to be considered eligible for governance. Her efforts to totally separate the BES from the government and ensure impartial, unbiased education persist today. 

In 44AC, in response to the vehement and violent rejection of an unpopular local appointment, small scale elections began to creep in around the nation. When implemented, citizens gained the right to choose which BEST-certified candidates would act as the local justice. It was the first introduction of democratic ideas to the wider populace of the Blackgard Union outside of the notable exception in the Bloodwoods.

In 50AC, democratic ideas had begun to take a deeper root in the country, spurred by philosophical movements of the age that the imperial court directly funded. Elections began to become more common in more and more local roles that required a BEST certification. The various small changes are too many to list, but suffice it to say that the decade was a period of rapid change. The most consequential change was the development of political factions that represented the push and pull of various groups whose interests now clashed ideologically in the wake of a rapidly-expanding population. 

In 62AC, the imperial court, in an unprompted declaration, decided that the central government could ‘no longer adequately assess the particular needs of each increasingly complex region constituting the Blackgard Union.’ The citizens were thusly ‘privileged and obligated to decide who can best govern the province in which they reside for the sake of continued progress in the union and their lives.’

In 70AC, the imperial court surrendered the right to command the general of the imperial armies, instead placing that responsibility in the hands of the prime minister alone. This decision was wildly unpopular, however, as the people knew and respected the martial prowess of both emperor and empress. In a compromise later in the year, the crown amended that decision, promising the crown would ‘aid in any situation in which the Blackgard Union was seriously threatened.’ Nevertheless, the heavy-handed move caused a surge in political factions attempting to recentralize power around the imperial court. Due to this factor, it would take a long time for another significant change to arise.

In 78AC, Elenore and the imperial court announced the title of prime minister would now be an elected one, with elections occurring every ten years. Qualified candidates were governors alone, of which there were seventy-two. Eight parties rallied behind eight candidates, each aiming for the title of prime minister. Elenore, without having ever spoken a single word in public after the announcement, won in a landslide. She ran a similarly silent ‘campaign’ in 88AC, where she again won without any significant challenge.

By 89AC, the responsibilities and powers of the imperial family had dwindled so greatly as to be relegated to ceremonialists. They remained vastly wealthy, possessing the most land in the nation and having a significant stake in booming industries around the nation, but their legal voice had become very minor. As people adapted to this dramatic shift, some factions desperately hoped the imperial crown would be reclaimed, and the Blackgard Union restored to as it was. No member of the Vasquer family ever tried, though many did see success in politics as donors or candidates.

At the end of 92AC, Argrave and Anneliese signed a formal decree vesting what few powers the crown still had into the office of prime minister. In a speech, Argrave declared that ‘[we] would be hindering the nation if we stayed on any longer, like a parent perching over the shoulder of their child well into adulthood. You’ve learned how to run toward the bright future on your own, and to keep reaching it, you must carry on without us.’

The imperial family remains well-loved, but the people have come to terms with their departure from politics. If I were to wax poetic, I would liken it to a child overcoming the death of a beloved parent. Despite their absence, life must go on.

The founding government of the Blackgard Union wasn’t entirely abolished, of course. Elenore of Vasquer remains prime minister to this day, dubbed the Vasquer Standard by her election opponents. Her legacy is such it seems highly unlikely any will overcome said standard—rather, the only likely scenario for another to become prime minister would be for her to refrain from reelection.

Many other such holdouts of the imperial court remain—the last of a generation. The next section shall cover some exceptional people who survived into the changing times of the Age of Revolutions, leaving their own significant mark.

Epilogue 3.3: Relics of a Bygone Time, Working Well into Modernity

The Vasquer Standard

Elenore saw the completion of the capitol of the Blackgard Union during the Age of Revolutions. The Bastion, as it was later named by the people, came to embody the significance of her station by sheer force of necessity. The position of prime minister came to have so many offices serving it that the building needed to be enlarged. The bureaucracy that Elenore had established at the very beginning of the Blackgard Union did not stagnate where it’d been born—rather, just as the society had grown, so too had it.

Her reforms of the era split the power of her seat, but her workload had grown so intense it was necessary. Even despite this fragmentation, the last vestige of truly imperial power can be seen in the prime minister’s office. Every position that received some delegated authority remains directly appointed by the prime minister, and that seems unlikely to change. In practice, the prime minister still dictates the direction the government takes.

Elenore became an unwilling icon to the working women of the era. In civil service, where women had become extremely prominent, she set the standard that many of them aspired to. In wider intellectual movements, too, her continued quiet and skillful reign was heralded as the epitome of excellence. Elenore’s complete avoidance of these movements has ensured they never reached the heights of others of the age, but Prince Garm says their affection ‘wasn’t entirely hated by the esteemed prime minister.’

On the personal front, Elenore and Durran continued to raise a revolving door of orphaned children. Prince Garm deemed it ‘a hobby of theirs, wherein they would take in those young children visited by a great tragedy, and then expend their efforts toward ensuring the children achieved both great happiness and great success despite their misfortunes.’ When asked, Elenore merely claims it to be ‘small recompense for the good fortune I had to experience firsthand such a reversal of fate.’

Elenore and Durran had no more trueborn children after Therese, which was a point of small friction between the pair that nonetheless never amounted to genuine conflict; only a ‘few snide comments,’ according to Garm.

Sword and Shield

Galamon and Orion, once called the sword and shield of the empire, adapted to their changing roles well. The army, for its part, became far closer to something of that of state-funded workers. They still saw action, at many points—the imperial fleet, for its part, was constantly hard-pressed to keep the waters safe as trade began to explode. By and large, the soldiers engaged in far more acts of public benefit, such as laying out the railroads or expanding the sewer systems.

The Order of the Sun under Orion, meanwhile, expanded massively. They faced innumerable challenges as they did so. Anti-traditionalists decried the dated role of knights in an enlightened society, while instances of excessive force drew close scrutiny from the public eye. In the face of all that, the people constituting the order changed just as society did.

Speaking from my experience as a Knight of the Sun, it came to be one of the most difficult roles in society. Every day, the knights see the very lowest of society—rapists, murderers, thieves, appearing one after another. We see children enduring that which none should ever have to, and we have to deal with the aftermath of those who’ve taken their lives. We see all that drives men and women to crime, and we see all the misery resulting from illegality.

It can be very difficult not to break beneath that strain. It very nearly did break me in 72AC, and led to my retirement in 73AC.

Nevertheless, the Order grew into a fixture of the Blackgard Union, and knights themselves a very prominent and celebrated citizenry. Orion, as their leader, dispelled the notion of superiority of arms entitling one to superiority of rights. He seemed the very ideal of the knight they all aspired to—protector of the weak, unfailingly virtuous, and pursuant of the truth no matter the cost.

It came as an immense shock, then, when Orion retired as grandmaster in 81AC. His son, Argrave—better known by the nickname Archie—took his place. Such a thing might’ve been controversial had his son not proven amply able of filling the role. He possessed the same bravery Orion did, while inheriting his Great Chu mother’s talent of magic. Archie beat the emperor himself in a sparring match, once, with the caveat that the emperor refrained from using blood magic. In leadership, too, Archie proved his father’s peer.

Nation’s Architect

During the Age of Revolutions, the name ‘Artur’ became synonymous with that of a great creator or artist. It’s no wonder why—travelling through the Blackgard Union, should one see a piece of architecture or a monument that’s particularly striking, the name of its creator in almost invariably the same: Artur. And if it isn’t, the likely case is that it came from one of his direct students.

A list of all his great works of the age would be as long as this entire volume in itself. Suffice it to say the revolutionary constructions he produced in the Age of Reclamation continued on ad nauseum in the Age of Revolutions. He continued to receive innumerable honors from the crown, going through ceremony after ceremony in which another medal was pinned to his cloak, or another title appended to his name.

In 87AC, two days after his two hundred and twentieth birthday, Artur stopped working altogether. He retired with a woman of uncertain background, presumed by many to be a former goddess who survived the Last Calamity. When asked why, Artur simply said, ‘I have to be miserable and envious to produce good work. That’s a lot harder for me, now.’

As a final honor for all his good work, the date of his birth was declared a national holiday revolving around the arts.

Princes and Princesses

The children of the imperial court diminished in prominence, somewhat, as their parent’s power waned. The Vasquer family achieved a great deal of harmony after the unrest they endured during the Age of Fury. The fifth princess, Gisele, proved to inherit her father’s radical anti-monarchism. She renounced her last name altogether—not out of malice toward her parents, but out of idealism—and went on to focus deeply on the education of the nation. Elenore appointed her as the Master of Public Education—a new office, revolving around the increasingly important role education took in the Blackgard Union.

The fourth prince who’d joined the army, Elimar, became the right-hand man of Lieutenant General Abadon, commander of the seventh imperial army. Political parties and prominent businessmen increasingly attempted to exert influence over the armed forces. Abadon and Elimar stood in stark opposition to this, ensuring that political allegiance stayed far removed from the army as legislation passed to ensure the army’s continued incorruptibility.

Seventh Prince Diedrich, Eighth Prince Yannik, and Sixth Princess Hannelore reached the age of majority during the Age of Revolutions. Unlike their predecessors, they were largely removed from the public eye as the majority of the family transitioned to the island estate of Goldrest. Very little is known of them. When asked, Prince Garm merely smiles and calls them lucky children.

Goldrest became the place at which the imperial family came to spend the majority of its time. The estate has year-long mild weather, a palatial mansion constructed by Artur himself, large orchards of myriad fruits, and warm, sapphire-blue waters that grace it shores. No vessels without permission from the imperial family can near, thanks to endlessly complex wards built into the island. Less than two hundred alive have ever seen its splendor, the majority of whom are either those of Vasquer or the small serving staff living there.

Prince Garm describes it simply: ‘paradise.’

Science of Magic, and the Magic of Science

Magic, fundamentally, could be said to have endured no major revolution. Its knowledge was spread, yes, but spellcasters had been probing the depths of magic long before the Last Calamity ended. It’s been the interweaving of magical and mundane that has produced the most significant steps forward. It began in the field of healing arts with Raven—his methods involved an all-too-clever combination of the magic of healing with the mundanity of surgery. That methodology spread to other fields. The combination of the forces of the world and the forces of magic have struck many as the future.

Raven continued this endless march forward with all the fervor of a sinner seeking penance. His advancements in the healing arts remain incredibly notable, even in this age—curing ailments such as arthritis, delaying the onset of dementia, and mitigating the negative effects of strokes stand as the most prominent examples. A great deal remains out of his reach of yet, and many of these treatments remain ridiculously costly, requiring the aid of an S-rank spellcaster. Nevertheless, people take strides toward making these methods more efficient, making the magical mundane so that all might partake in the fruits of knowledge. Things have advanced far enough even non-magical humans can breach one hundred years of age.

Other fields march forward in lockstep. The field of magical engineering is becoming particularly prominent, where boats that can sail in the air and other such impossibilities for the common man become closer to reality every day. Robust protections from government ensuring that the one who discovers these things can profit from them make many incredibly eager pursuers of the runaway future. Older methods are made more efficient day by day, and what was the privilege of mages yesterday becomes the pleasure of the common man today.

The dwarves, for their part, take part in this revolution with eager hands. Largely unblessed magically, they’ve long been applying magic in such conventional ways. Now, their methods are going through a rebirth in the forges of the Blackgard Union, making them one of the wealthiest classes of citizenry in the nation.

These successes, however, are shadowed by what some think is to be a grim future. Increasingly, a phenomenon known as Magical Scarcity has been observed. As the name suggests, the simple ramification of this fact is that magic, as more users arise, is not quite so plentiful as it once was. Magic itself hasn’t decreased, yet as more people use it, the primeval force is drawn thinner. While it’s far too early to know if this will be a prevailing trend or an anomaly, the fact remains that many see efforts toward efficiency in magic use as an inevitability if the population should continue to rise, which it seems like to.

Regained Nobility

Several noble houses that fell out of prominence in the past began to reappear, some of their status regained by merit of effort expended. Elias of Parbon saw the continuance of both the bloodlines of Parbon and Jast, alongside his wife Ridia. After achieving great success in resettling land near Relize, their family began the Parbon Foundation, an organization that funds research into healing arts.

Nikoletta of Monticci remains very wealthy, but the Monticci lineage seems likely to pass alongside her. The name lives on in the form of the many magic schools she founded alongside Mina of Veden, herself another noble. Rumors suggest both of their wills are entirely dedicated to a fringe movement promoting certain civil liberties.

Hegazar and Vera, former duke and duchess of Dirracha, continue their lineage as the only nobles appointed by Argrave himself. They were ornery at first, vehemently protesting the king’s decision to end nobility. Vera nearly divorced Hegazar, who’d lost all of his magic, but a firm rebuke for their protests from the crown made them unite closer than ever. By this age, Hegazar reclaimed what he lost, and the both of them were S-rank spellcasters. Hegazar is noted for a feat of magical engineering called ‘projections,’ which can display complex images on glass surfaces, enabling complex interfaces on devices. The potential of this invention has yet to be fully explored, but its patent has already earned them great wealth.

House Quadreign remains the only noble house in possession of what can be called a heritage—namely, their black flame. Vasilisa’s incredibly effective stewardship of the north also earned her family some wealth. Her daughter—which she admitted she never intended to have, if not for a touch too much to drink—stands poised to continue her unexpectedly brilliant political legacy as she campaigns for governor, today.

Epilogue 3.4: Uncertain Future

At the time I write this, 97AC, there is both tremendous optimism for the future and a growing sense of caution. After the Last Calamity, people had nothing to lose but time. After 92 years of labor, many people feel as though there is far more to lose than there is to gain by continuing to test the boundaries. Others, especially the younger generation, approach new innovations eagerly.

Some believe it too early to call an end to the Age of Revolutions, as the most prominent historians among us have. While largely dictated by the arbitrary date in which the crown vested its remaining power in the prime minister’s office, some nonetheless believe that new fields will continue to experience new and revolutionary advances. I count myself among such cautiously optimistic people.

Others suggest that the good times cannot continue on forever, and posit that curbing optimism might be the best course for the future. Most can safely say, however, that the philosophies of the age have ceased to expand as rapidly. It was the change in attitude and approach that led to rapid advancement, and most agree that the ideas of the age can carry civilization forth for a long way.

To reflect the formative movements of the age, and to conclude this volume, I shall write out their views toward both how society should be, and how they believe society will be.

Rationalism

Formed by Arcanists who transitioned away from the religion, rationalists believe that it is the moral duty of every living person to be as rational as possible. In particular, they eschew short-term thinking, focusing instead on long-term consequences that will benefit society as a whole. They both embrace and despise ignorance—in other terms, they’re quick to admit what they don’t know, yet they strive to remedy that as quickly as possible.

They earned a great deal of ire from all directions after their founding. Deemed pretentious, absolutist, and unfailingly arrogant, some dub their movement an extremist reaction to the faiths of the previous era. Decried as a ‘cult of reason,’ pressure came from all walks of life. Rationalist artistry—be that satirical literature or caricatures of prominent priests—mocking faith in all its forms nevertheless reached great prominence, especially after the religious conflicts of the prior age.

Card-carrying Rationalists remain relatively uncommon due to their poor reputation, but their philosophies permeate the Blackgard Union. Their ideal society would be a totally rational one, wherein actions are divorced from subjectivity. Their general consensus on society’s direction, however, is both that of pessimism and optimism. They acknowledge that people will continue to be irrational, but they believe their continued efforts will eventually win out and reshape society into a better place. In part, that’s already happened. Only time will tell if that remains to be the case. 

Mysticism

Mysticism can be viewed as a very loose movement—a subtle modernization of faiths of the past, wherein intense religious fervor was moderated in favor of a growing trend toward secularism. Its simplest tenet is the acknowledgement of a higher power. Whether that’s a god, an intangible force, or something else entirely, mysticism is united by the idea that there’s something beyond mortality. The Word of Law is, in essence, the largest factor driving people toward mysticism. Its writings don’t deny the existence of a higher power, merely suggest that secularism should take precedence.

In practice, mysticism may be considered the most prevalent ideology throughout Vasquer, although most wouldn’t describe themselves as such. It represents the interweaving of faiths in search of spirituality. What spirituality actually entails differs between each faith, but the prevailing idea is that of pluralism. Indeed, some don’t truly practice any faith at all, but take facets of each in search of a nebulous idea of enlightenment.

Mysticism lauds spiritualism, and laments the trend of secularism to veer into excesses wherein people are disconnected from the spirit. They predict society will continue on with this trend, and lament growing innovation as a departure from genuine happiness. They can be considered a moderating force, testing the steady march of progress to ensure it doesn’t lead to ruination.

Communalism

Before the Last Calamity, subterranean mountain tribes lived in enclaves underground called communes. Back then, they had the ability to create automatons capable of fulfilling all of their needs. That, coupled with a strong tradition of solidarity, created an environment where ownership of property was largely collective. Their ability to create such automatons disappeared along with the Last Calamity, yet that culture persisted in them.

It was in the Age of Revolutions that this culture began to receive scrutiny from wider intellectual movements. Increasingly, people came to consider the idea of the nation being the property of the people, and consequently something to be distributed equitably as it had been after the end of the Last Calamity.

This movement received condemnation from the crown, directly. In particular, Argrave publicly stated on multiple occasions that government power would need to be centralized to the point of absurdity, and that advancement and innovation would stagnate as people lose incentive to endeavor for the benefit of others.

Because of this, the movement was consigned to the fringes, where only the most anti-imperial and radical personages persisted. It was most influential in morphing some political parties subtly. In particular, their advocation for anti-monopolist practices and accessible land ownership helped preserve the Blackgard Union’s principle of meritorious distribution for opportunity-seekers.   

Regardless, the notion of a communal society, wherein all receive precisely what they need and most of what they want, continues to resonate in people. In particular, prominent writers promoting theories of a just society draw in more and more admirers. Attempts to establish pockets of communal society within the Union have been unsuccessful, though communalists claim outside persecution as the primary obstacle.

Unionism

Unionists—more a political group than a genuine intellectual movement—believe in the preservation or extension of the power of the central government, considering it the foundation of the Blackgard Union. Their voice has always remained someone prominent. Largely traditionalist, they advocate for stronger oversight from the educated elite to prevent the erosion of unified government direction.

The party is largely considered that of the wealthy, as the vast majority of its members come from the beneficiaries of the Age of Reclamation. They experienced firsthand both the devastation of the Last Calamity, and the rebuilding following it shortly after. Many view them as the last holdouts of a generation coming to a close.

Unionists predict an erosion of social values that will ultimately lead to the downfall of the Blackgard Union itself. Their voice remains extremely prominent, in part due to the enormity of the wealth they’ve accumulated. They prove to be a cyclically prominent political party, rising in prominence when the populace sees excesses of change resulting in worse outcomes for all.

Autonomism

As the principal proponent for lessened imperial authority, autonomism cited high levels of autonomy given—from governors decided local laws, to families given true ownership of land—as the true reason for the Blackgard Union’s ascendance. Their primary idea is the decentralization of government, vesting power in the hands of the people. 

Their identically named political party achieved widespread success in giving governors more freedom from the laws of the central government. The many different, highly-diverse regions in the Blackgard Union came to have different ideas about how things should be run, but the autonomists bridged this gap by suggesting everyone be given more liberty to decide how things should run. They achieved widespread support for these reasons.

Other, more radical ideas have caused the movement to lose steam as the imperial court waned in power. The elimination of taxes and the total abolition of the central government in all its forms are the most glaring culprits, leading some to dismiss the autonomists of today as mere anarchists. Their utopian idea of totally autonomous communities has been largely dismissed as fanciful, but they insist the steady march of progress will eventually make their ideas more feasible. 

For the sake of brevity, I’ve included only the five most prominent ideologies of the age. These short descriptions cannot adequately do justice to the endlessly complex political debates that occurred in the Age of Revolutions, but the vast majority of them take their ideas both from the history of the Blackgard Union, and these notions explored during the age.

As we move into the new age of yet unnamed by historians, I have little doubt these opposing perspectives will war against one another, creating ideas anew that come to serve as fuel for the engines of tomorrow. It marks the turn of an era where the crown has totally separated itself from governance, and the people themselves begin to dictate the path they take.

Before I move on to the bibliography, I’d like to thank—

#####

Upon processing the word ‘bibliography,’ Argrave shut the book. He set it down on the table beside his chair, then leaned back in quiet reflection. It was a very peculiar thing, to see one’s life talked about in this fashion. He couldn’t quite place how he felt about it. He’d avoided it entirely until his son informed him that he was a contributor. Then, there wasn’t any more excuse.

After a few long moments, Argrave rose and retrieved the book, turning off the lamp that’d been illuminating the text. Argrave walked through the library of dark wood bookshelves, holding the book in his arms. His slippers were barely audible on the carpet as dim morning light filtered through the windows. He came to a set of double doors, beautifully embossed, and opened them. They let out nary a creak as they parted.

Beyond, the master bedroom awaited. Argrave certainly never expected to have a bedroom this large. A canopy bed, a walk-in closet, a grand bathroom with everything from a sauna to a tub more adequately called a pool, even the personal library just adjacent to it… such luxuries would’ve drawn disdain from the younger him. But as he looked around, he could only feel contentment.

Anneliese walked out of the closet wearing a green robe, her long white hair wreathed around her like a cloak. “Hey,” she greeted him quietly, moving to the mirror.

“Hey,” Argrave returned, taking slow steps until he stood behind her.

Anneliese braided her long hair with a century’s worth of expertise as Argrave came to look into the mirror from just behind. Neither of them had changed much, going by appearances. Argrave had rough stubble, and Anneliese experimented with a new braid every year or so. That was about it. But everyone said they looked different, somehow. And it was beginning to dawn on the both of them just how long ‘eternity’ was.

“Did you finish the book?” Anneliese asked, looking at him in the mirror. “I want to read it again before Garm arrives. Or… at least skim it.”

“Yeah.” Argrave set the book on the dresser nearby. “It was strange, reading it.”

Anneliese nodded as she looked into the mirror, but eventually she turned back from the mirror and looked at him directly. “What?”

“Nothing,” Argrave dismissed. “Just… we’re old.”

Anneliese scoffed, then looked back at the mirror. “That realization didn’t strike you holding your great-great-grandchild last week?”

“I was too busy trying to commit the name to memory. At this rate, we’ll have a thousand names to memorize this time next century, Anne,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders as he joked.

“Sounds like one of those good problems,” Anneliese dismissed idly as she finalized her braid. She held her arms out. “How do I look?”

“Edible,” Argrave said simply, and Anneliese shook her head, used to his antics.

“It’s the big day,” Anneliese said, then touched his hands still leaning against the shoulder. “Don’t get too relaxed, baby.”

“Yeah… yeah.” Argrave conceded with a resigned nod. “The big day.”

Epilogue 4.1: Family Reunion

A tall, black-haired man with a white eyepatch over his right eye stared out across the ocean. The eyepatch had a peculiarly round ruby embedded on the front, giving the faintest illusion of an eye in the socket. His good eye was gray as slate. The sapphire-blue waters of the shore washed at his feet, while a faint smile played about his lips. 

“Vincent!”

Vincent turned his head toward the voice. There, Sophia of Vasquer waved at him as she ran carefreely. She had grown to be a vivacious woman, with bright red eyes, cheeks full of color, and a touch of innocence that hadn’t faded even after ninety-seven years. Seeing her, Vincent’s smile only widened. He walked up to greet her, giving her a hug.

“Missed you,” Vincent said.

Sophia pulled away and looked up at him. “You always say that.”

“It’s always true.” Vincent patted the top of her head. “Did the trip go okay? Anybody give you trouble?”

“Would that you would show such concern for our other siblings,” Sophia said dryly. “I’m fine. I always am. But enough about me—what do you think mom and dad have planned? Their invitation was a little ominous. ‘The world will change forevermore.’ They don’t tend to exaggerate.” Sophia began to walk away from the shore, back toward the estate.

Vincent inhaled, following Sophia calmly. “Perhaps they’re abdicating to you.”

“Pfft.” Sophia scoffed. “What would be the point? All they have to do these days is a bunch of ceremonies on one day, twice a year. Even if it was true, hardly world-changing.”

“Hmm.” Vincent looked around, spotting distant grand orchards and beautiful gardens in the approach to the of-yet out of sight mansion. “Perhaps they have another child on the way.”

Sophia inhaled through her teeth. “Could you imagine? Can they still, even? Mom’s an elf, and they have Raven… anything is possible.” She almost looked excited at the prospect, but further thinking ensured reality hit. “Still… it’s been a long, long while. Not sure they’d break discipline now. They don’t really know how to stop being disciplined.”

“Then I’m out of guesses.” Vincent shrugged.

“Really? You don’t know?” Sophia sounded genuinely surprised. “It always seems like you know everything.”

“I just loaf around all day. Why do you have such a high opinion of me?” Vincent asked.

“Do you remember when you were just a little baby, newly born?” Sophia looked at him.

Vincent narrowed his eye. “Does anyone?”

“You never cried,” Sophia continued. “You wouldn’t even feed. You had… well, the missing eye. Everyone thought there was something wrong with you, with your brain. But then I came, remember? And you cried, came alive, grabbed my finger with your little itty-bitty fingers… it was such a happy day. Mom and dad were so happy, so relieved.”

Vincent put his hands in his pockets. “You’re telling me I was too stupid to feed, so you think I know everything?”

“No. I could just tell, even then, that you were smart. A genius. You knew everything that was going on, you just didn’t want to feed. You needed a little push.” Sophia grabbed his arm. “So, stop lying to me, you little gremlin, and tell me why our parents called us here. I know you know.”

Vincent laughed hard, but then finally looked at Sophia. “It’s not a bad thing, Soph. Don’t worry your silly little head.”

“Really? Hmm.” Sophia looked at him. “What if I tell your wife about that time when you were eleven, and—”

“Alright, alright,” Vincent interrupted. “I’ll give you a little hint, but that’s all you’re getting. You’ve got a big mouth, and you can’t lie if your life depended on it, so that’s all I’ll do.”

“That’ll do,” Sophia conceded.

Vincent paused their walk. “They’ve decided to be a little selfish for once—to do what they want, instead of what’s best for the nation or the family.”

Sophia fell into quiet contemplation as they continued to walk toward the family estate. Its black roof entered into view, and soon enough its white walls. Goldrest was an elegant, four-story estate split into three sections by three islands bridged by serene walkways. Built entirely of stone and metal, it looked liable to last as long as its owners.

More of the attendees of this event entered into view as they carried on. Galamon and Orion stood by a gargantuan grill in the garden, where dozens of staff managed a tremendous variety of meats. The pair wrangled a bunch of white-haired and black-haired children who hungered early, drawn here by the smell of cooking meats. The children that had learned the lesson of delayed gratification waited under a pavilion with Elenore, who gently combed the hair of a red-haired child while she read from a storybook.

Elimar demonstrated to some of the older children how to wield a sword, standing as the stoic instructor while Orion’s son, Argrave—Archie—encouraged the children as gently as possible. The eldest son, Castro, oversaw some teenagers as they ‘sparred’ with simple F-rank spells. The majority of the other adults were chatting away at the white tables spread out throughout the beautiful gardens.

“Oh, dear.” Sophia grabbed Vincent’s arm, pulling him away from his thoughts. “Hannelore’s found an audience. We should spare them.”

Vincent turned his gaze to where Hannelore sat in a secluded corner of the garden, easily recognizable from her untamed white hair. A few of the children sat across from her, their eyes wide as they listened. Sophia dragged Vincent along to help resolve the situation.

“I mean, come on. Just think about it.” The sixth princess Hannelore tapped her temple while her gray eyes darted about passionately. “Every time you cast a water or ice spell, there’s more water in the world. Not only that, it sticks around. Water’s gotta go somewhere, right, kids? That’s why, according to my projections, the entire continent is going to be undersea by—”

“Hannah,” Vincent interrupted. “I think mom asked for you.”

“Oh.” Her face turned sad as the wind was taken from her sails. “Okay.” Hannelore nodded, then looked back to the kids. “I have to go. Just remember this. Fellhorn was misunderstood. He was actually trying to save us all by taking the water. It’s just his followers that were bad.”

As Vincent directed Hannelore away from the children, Sophia tactfully explained to the children that Hannelore was a little overeager about those theories of hers. When Hannelore walked away, Vincent looked out to the rest of the family. In a nearby table, he spotted his wife, Christine. When they’d met, she’d looked like a red-haired version of his mother, which was… off-putting, to say the least. Now, she’d gained her own identity. She waved at him discretely, and he smiled at her.

“Every time we’re all together, I just think about how blessed we are,” Sophia said as she rejoined Vincent. “I never could’ve imagined this when I was young. This wasn’t what a family was, to me.” Even as she spoke of the past, smiles graced her face. “I find myself forgetting those terrible days, more and more.”

“That’s good,” said Vincent with a slow nod. “A little dementia never hurt anyone. At the ripe age of 106, it was overdue.”

Sophia laughed. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Vincent only smiled, watching in silence as one of his nephews chased around one of his nieces with an ugly frog in his hand.

“Do you think the good times will go on forever?” Sophia asked. “I mean… they can’t, can they? It’s just not possible. Enrico showed us all that.”

“Maybe not.” Vincent nodded in agreement. “Though, good times, bad times… I think we can always be happy, at least. Our parents have built something that’ll always give us the opportunity for happiness.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if we deserve all of this,” Sophia continued. “Can we enjoy life so liberally when another person on another continent suffers because of the choices our parents made? Can we stop and rest while a single person yet suffers?”

“You do plenty,” he assured her. “Argrave and Anneliese did plenty. They’ve suffered plenty, too. Could you do more? Yeah, maybe. Everyone can. If every living person spent every second of theirs helping everyone, we could solve every problem in the world at once. So what? That’s just not the way things are.”

Sophia didn’t say anything for a while, enjoying the sounds of distant revelry. “It just makes me think about my blood-related brother,” she eventually admitted. “Griffin was just as trapped as I was. In a twisted way, the only reason I get all of this… is because of what he did.”

Vincent turned his head to look at her. “He said he loved you, didn’t he? Then he’d be happy. He’d be happy that you’re living an idyllic life, helping people around the world like you do, giving so much. He’d be proud that you held fast to your beliefs. If he was honest in all that he said, at least.”

“Maybe.” Sophia nodded. “’Survivor’s guilt,’ dad always called it. I still can’t shake it, after all this time.”

Vincent crossed his arms. “You never know what happened. Maybe things turned out just as nice for him, even if he doesn’t deserve it. Luck doesn’t pay any mind to good or evil, after all. And all we are is lucky. The both of us.”

“Sophia!” called out a distant voice before she could respond. “Come here a minute!”

Sophia glanced at Vincent as she walked toward the voice. “Coming?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Think I’ll go nap somewhere until the meal’s ready.”

“Okay,” Sophia agreed. “Be nice this time. Don’t make your niece cry by calling her fat again.”

“She’s a thirty-year-old woman, and she was fat,” Vincent argued. “Now—look, she’s thin again. I was helping.”

“Be nice.” Sophia pointed firmly. “I mean it.”

“Fine,” Vincent sighed.

Vincent couldn’t honestly say if the good times would go on forever. Maybe the Vasquer family would continue to expand until they consumed the entire world. Maybe more tragedies awaited them in the future. Whatever the case, Vincent would do his damnedest to be sure his family was happy. He retreated back, looking for a nice tree to seek shade under.

“Uncle Vincent!” shouted a child, who shortly after barreled into his leg. As his knee protested, he looked at the kid. “Can you take off your eyepatch? How’d you lose your eye? Was it a battle?!”

Vincent closed his eyes, reciting Sophia’s words of ‘be nice’ like a mantra.

Epilogue 4.2: Family Dinner

Elimar watched reservedly as servants placed large platters of food in the center of the table. He was unaccustomed to such treatment, both from sixty-six years serving in the imperial army and from the measured upbringing of his parents. All of them waited politely for everyone to arrive at the table before they began eating, just as they’d been taught when they were children.

“Uncle Vincent, how come you know so much about the Last Calamity?” came chatter from one of Elimar’s nephews. “You talk about it just like grandpa.”

“Good question, kid. Very good question.” Vincent drank from his glass of water.

When Vincent didn’t answer, the child demanded rambunctiously, “Then answer!”

Castro snapped his fingers, and a very weak spark of lightning jolted the child in the nose. Elimar’s nephew winced more from surprise than hurt, like he’d been flicked on the nose. “What did your mother tell you about asking nicely, son?”

“Jeez, don’t shock the boy on my behalf.” Vincent shook his head. “I just studied a lot. If you want to grow up to tell stories to little kids at family reunions, then read a lot of books like me. But honestly, you’re better off trying to be like your dad, or your uncle Elimar, or your aunt Gisele. Or, best of all, you could try to be like Sophia.” 

“I’m gonna be the emperor, like grandpa!” The child declared boldly.

All of the adults smiled or laughed at the carefree ambition of youth. Eventually, his fickle nature took over, and he darted away to be with some of his peers.

“Your youngest, right?” His sister Lieselotte asked Castro. “Good kid. Smart.”

“And he looks like his mother. Best of both worlds,” joked Yannik, their youngest sibling and the undoubted troublemaker. Everyone knew the joke was good-natured, and so laughed freely.

“So, Elenore,” Elimar spoke up. “Running for reelection?”

Elenore shrugged. “No, I’ll be standing still for reelection. If the people still want me, they still have me. I enjoy the job.”

“Did our parents tell you anything about what we’re talking about?” asked Diedrich, second youngest.

Before Elenore could speak, a commotion coming from the estate drew everyone’s attention. There, Anneliese and Argrave had finally arrived. Their very presence was magnetic, electric. Argrave had a faint dark red trail behind every movement—the sign of ninety-seven years of accumulating blood echoes. Anneliese, too, had a certain glow to her; a faint glimmer in the air, brought about by the maturation of her A-rank ascension. 

But just because they looked so formidable didn’t mean they had become unapproachable. Their grandchildren and great-grandchildren stormed them, totally heedless of the power the two wielded. To most of those here today, the two were merely grandpa and grandma. Dignity and love coexisted easily in the undisputed patriarch and matriarch of Vasquer. After acting as emperor and empress for so many years, the role had distilled itself into their very being. Or… perhaps it was merely Elimar’s own view of them.

Elimar held both of his parents in the highest esteem. He couldn’t be prouder to have come to this life under their guidance. He tried his very best to emulate them in serving the army. They always told him not to, of course—to do as they say, not as they do. But giving oneself totally for a cause—even sixty-six grueling years later, Elimar didn’t regret enlisting in the army one moment. He couldn’t claim a fraction of his parent’s achievements, but he tried to be a force for good, even if that meant going against their wishes.

“Come on, kids. You’ll have a whole week with the two of us, but only a few more minutes of hot food,” Argrave said, his authoritative yet gentle voice filling the garden. “Go to your places. We’ll do something fun after lunch, I promise. We’ll take the best-behaved kid on a magic flight. How’s that sound?”

With Argrave’s typically artful negotiation tactics, he extricated the two of them from the horde of eager children. As he and Anneliese walked to the head of the table, everyone stood at attention. No one spoke as they pulled back their chairs and sat down. Argrave’s gaze wandered the table, looking at all of his attendant children and all of his closest companions. He smiled, and then drummed his fingers against the plate. There was a great deal of emotion unspoken in those gray eyes of his.

“We’re glad you’re all here,” Argrave finally said, taking Anneliese’s hand. “Let’s eat.”

With that, the family moved eagerly to claim their portions from the large platters splayed out across the table. The Parents of the Empire waited for their children to stake their claim. Elimar did the same. He watched Vincent pile vegetables onto his plate—strangely, even as a boy, Vincent never ate meat. It was only once everyone had served themselves that Argrave and Anneliese reached out to claim what remained, which itself was still an extravagant meal.

“I can see that all of you are interested in the wording of the invitation,” began Anneliese. She was met by enthusiastic agreement. “Perhaps we can calm those uneasy stomachs of yours before the meal, hmm?”

“I have a betting pool going,” declared Yannik. “Another child is the favored bet.”

“I’m afraid those betters are going to be a bit poorer.” Argrave shook his head as he poured gravy over some food. “The truth is, Anneliese and I have had a hard time adjusting to retirement. We still enjoy each other’s company, and that’s made it bearable thus far, but… simply put, we’re not very good at sitting still.”

“Ask Vincent for advice,” suggested Lieselotte, who prodded her younger brother with her elbow.

“Let them speak,” reprimanded Rose, who listened to her father at the edge of her seat.

“Almost a century now, we’ve seen the steady advancement of society,” Argrave continued, twirling his glass. “I like to think it was a century of prosperity.” He picked his glass up, and toasted it toward Garm’s direction. “Garm’s co-author seemed to largely agree. Congratulations, by the way.”

Garm scratched the back of his neck a little bashfully. The family murmured some praises, joining Argrave in his impromptu toast. Diana in particular shook her brother forcefully, showing immense pride.

“The root of all conflict is scarcity,” Anneliese picked up where Argrave left off. “And because there was abundant opportunity, we managed to flourish without excessive conflict. But such a flourishing naturally sows the seed of conflict.”

“There’s only so much room for so many people,” Argrave put it simply. “Time was, this garden felt gargantuan. But as more and more of your beautiful children fill it up, prancing about joyfully…” He smiled as he watched another table, where the children ate ecstatically. “There’s only so many swings we can hang from the trees before the children start to argue over them.”

“Tell me about it,” Elenore shook her head with a faint smile playing about her lips as she thought of distant memories.

“Some of my colleagues feel we should take the fight overseas, claim new territory,” Elimar finally spoke up. He shook his head gravely. “That mentality is already breeding, unfortunately.”

“And perhaps we should,” Diedrich said. “I went with Sophia on one of her journeys to distant lands. The conditions they’re in… it’s barbaric, and it shows no signs of improving. Why can’t we improve their situations? Continuing with father’s metaphor, shouldn’t we always do what’s best for children even when they might not want it?”

“We can discuss perspective later,” Argrave interrupted firmly before argument could break out. “The point is this; Anneliese and I see a contradiction. The universe is infinite, and yet we see what seems to be a ceiling, rapidly approaching.”

Rose, ever the curious one, asked, “What does that have to do with you two?”

“Argrave and I have found few things in life as joyous as watching all of you find yourself, to start families of your own, and to find your own happiness in life,” Anneliese said, beaming brightly. “The idea of that ending… or, of conflict coming to you…” Anneliese wiped at her eyes. “It’s unbearable.” 

Elimar heard Sophia whisper to Vincent, “I thought you said it was a selfish thing.”

“Just listen,” Vincent whispered curtly back.

“We’ve been trying very hard to remember our roles, to stay in our lane,” Argrave continued, holding Anneliese’s hand in silent comfort. “We looked into a bunch of things.”

“Land reclamation, deep-earth excavation… heh.” Anneliese laughed. “We even considered a grand project draining the North Sea, that it might be settled. But that’s treating the symptom, not curing the disease.”

“…listen, maybe we can skip the preamble?” Durran spoke up. “You seem to forget even your youngest child is in his seventies. I’m sure they can take it.”

“Fair,” Argrave conceded, looking at Anneliese. She gave him a nod and a smile, and then he looked back to the rest of the table. “We’re going to the moon. Long-term, at that.”

The table erupted into a plethora of reactions. The most common reaction was disbelief, followed shortly by confusion and amusement. Elimar only smiled, once again affirmed in his admiration of his parents. While everyone else tried to speak to their parents to make sense of that declaration, Elimar leaned in to Vincent.

“Christine took you to the moon once, yes?” he asked.

Vincent turned his head so his good eye could see Elimar. “Yeah, for the wedding.”

“And?” Elimar pressed.

Vincent tilted his head back, thinking. “It was red, desolate. Had some neat architecture. The lunar dragons don’t eat, so there wasn’t much in the way of greenery. Or animals. Or… anything that makes it livable. Most everything was underground.”

“Hmm.” Elimar looked back to his parents, waiting for them to continue.

“You think we don’t know it’s irresponsible?” Argrave said in response to a question Elimar had missed. “Of course it is. It’s a pipedream, that’s what it is. Do you know what else was a pipedream? Stopping Gerechtigkeit. We broke the cycle of judgment all the same. Now, it’s time for us to try our hands at breaking another cycle altogether. The only way we see that happening is going beyond.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” Gisele argued, ever the cool rationalist. “The lunar dragons are the only ones who can breach space. Any other forces attempting to go beyond the planet are subject to unknown forces.”

“Were subject to.” Anneliese leaned in. “The culprit that’s kept us trapped on this world… it’s magic, Gisele. Magic itself struggles to keep us confined to the planet. That’s what I’ve discovered after these four years on this island. But increasingly, as magic is drawn thinner and thinner as more spellcasters arise… there are gaps. Routes out. Routes beyond. And we might take the seed of magic, of life, and spread it beyond this planet alone. We need not take from others—instead, we can claim untouched lands, just as it was after the calamity.”

“We won’t be going alone, of course. We’re not remotely qualified to begin colonizing another celestial body, but we can support those who are. It could take hundred of years for us to even begin making any progress at all. But… I want to.” Argrave looked to Anneliese. “It’ll be fun, I think. Exploring the unknown. And why get rich if you can’t waste your money on stupid projects?”

“You’re going to the moon because you’re bored?” Castro asked bluntly. Neither Argrave nor Anneliese offered an immediate response.

Orion, who’d been silent thus far, leaned onto the table. “Can I come?” Moments later his daughter glared at him, and he leaned back without getting an answer.

Elimar closed his eyes, reveling in the chatter of the lively Vasquer family. Going off what Elimar knew of the world, this venture seemed destined to fail or stagnate for decades. But… was it not a noble effort, a worthy goal? Elimar believed so. His parents had never lacked for resourcefulness. Elimar began to quietly eat, ever-grateful to be continually overshadowed by his parents.

“How do you expect us to have a normal meal after that?” Sophia complained. “It’s all I can think about. It’s… it’s absurd!”

“We want to do it, so we’re doing it,” Argrave said, putting his foot down. “I’m sorry, dear, but that’s just the way things are.”

“Could you consider a more normal mid-life crisis?” Diana quipped. 

Much of the table fell into mirth, and minutes later they were all infected by the harmonious atmosphere of the reunion dinner. Elimar couldn’t say whether or not his parents had built the perfect nation. But to him, at least, they’d built a perfect family. And he could tell he wasn’t alone in that sentiment.

Epilogue 4.3: Family Memorial

Argrave and Anneliese sat by the hearth as the fire crackled, the both of them staring up at the family portrait that’d been made so many decades ago. It was a little microcosm of what they’d experienced this week—a vibrant family. All save Vincent and Hannelore had Anneliese’s colorful amber eyes, while most had inherited Argrave’s black hair. They were all quite tall. Elimar was bigger than Orion, even, who also stood in the photo right alongside Elenore. Their daughters hadn’t liked that much, while all their sons had.

“Maybe we should get another portrait painted,” mused Argrave idly. “One for the road.”

“The family is much larger,” Anneliese responded. “It would take far longer. We had enough trouble posing last time.”

Argrave sighed. “They’ll make a camera someday.”

“Would we remember this so fondly had it not taken so long?” Anneliese asked.

Argrave shrugged. “Maybe not.”

Silence spread between them. Argrave had come to appreciate silence a great deal more. Time was, he spent every second talking, jabbering, joking. He still could, of course, but he found there was as much power in refraining from talking as there was in speaking eloquently. More than power, he simply felt at ease near his wife. There was no need to impress, to pretend. Their lives were almost one in the same.

“I think it’s time to go,” Anneliese broke the silence. “They might be waiting for us already.”

“Ah.” Argrave rose to his feet. “It’s... it’s prudent to remember, before we go. Remind us of the price of arrogance, complacency.”

“Hmm.” Anneliese stroked her brow, then stood to her feet and grabbed Argrave’s hand. “Who’s teaching the new children this time?”

“Theodore,” Argrave responded as they walked through the mansion. Revelry was absent this late at night. Anneliese looked troubled, and Argrave noticed that immediately. “Worried about him?”

“Always. He inherited my empathy.” Anneliese squeezed his hand a little tighter.  “But he’s learned to temper it in recent years. He’ll do a great job with the young ones, but I worry he’ll carry their reactions with him.”

Argrave went silent for a moment, thinking. “Durran’s right. We can only baby our soon-to-be centenarian children for so long.”

Anneliese chuckled. “Perhaps you’re ready for that, but I’m elven. At three hundred, these instincts of mine may fade. Until then… I can’t stop being their mother.”

“It’s Vincent you should worry about,” Argrave said. “He always act weirdly at these.”

With all covered, they left the estate, walking around to the back. They walked across small bridges spanning pleasantly babbling brooks, and passed beneath the verdant orchards that bloomed year-round. Faint magic lamps embedded into the pathway illuminated their path. Distant, almost reverent chatter came into view, and finally they came to a beautiful grove centered around a large monument with some writing on it. A single torch of black flame burned just in front of the monument—a gift from Vasilisa of Quadreign. It illuminated a simple phrase.

IN MEMORY OF THOSE LOST

Most of his life, Argrave never had any interest in ruminating on the past. Increasingly, he found himself doing so more and more. Not for his sake, but for the sake of the names written down on this wall—the people that had given their life for the future that all present here today enjoyed. It would be all too easy to lose themselves in the bliss they’d carved out for themselves. It was this hard moment of remembrance that both of them felt would help keep their family from straying from the good path.

“So… grandma’s grandma was one of the big golden snakes Orion visits?” their dark-haired granddaughter asked Theodore as they neared, her blue eyes wide.

“Grandpa’s distant ancestor,” Theodore corrected gingerly. “It was from her that we derive our last name. Vasquer.”

“How come we aren’t snakes?” she asked innocently. “How does a snake give birth to a human?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Vincent commented, staring at the monument uneasily.

Vincent looked like he wanted to retreat into himself. Argrave knew he was a softer soul than he put on. Even as a child, he didn’t eat meat. When his younger brother Diedrich had punched his tooth out, he asked for his sibling not to be punished. Every ounce of money he made managing Elenore’s business interests went straight to Sophia’s charity. Argrave put a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder, but it seemed little comfort to Vincent.

“Uncle Orion and your aunt Elenore spent a lot of time with Vasquer,” Theodore explained with a kindly smile. “You should ask them about it.”

“Aunt Elenore?” repeated their granddaughter, looking over. “But, dad… Elenore’s always…”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Theodore leaned in. “Elenore really loves talking with you kids. It’s the happiest she ever is. She just has a little trouble expressing it, because her job demands a lot of strictness.”

“Theo’s right,” Anneliese confirmed, surprising their shy granddaughter who realized the emperor and empress were standing behind her. She gently stroked the top of the girl’s head. “And she especially loves talking about Vasquer. Shall we go together?” The girl sheepishly nodded, and Anneliese scooped her up and walked toward where Elenore sat.

“Was that alright?” Theodore asked Argrave. “I’m worried that I might… I don’t know. Traumatize them or something.”

“You’ll do great, Theodore.” Argrave patted his son’s shoulder. “I trust you with this almost as much as Anneliese.”

“Heh.” Theodore lowered his head, smiling. “Couldn’t have just said, ‘more than anyone?’”

“Well, I don’t lie to family. Anne taught me that.” He gestured. “Go to your eager, if somewhat subdued, disciples.”

Theodore walked away, leaving Argrave alone in this grove dedicated to the lost. The emperor took the time to look around, at his family speaking in hushed tones of people gone, of stories that needed to be remembered. He hoped that he’d always be around to tell these stories—and that his mind remained intact enough to remember them. But in case they didn’t, he knew his family would carry them on.

Somehow, Vincent had slipped away. His son had always been unusually talented at doing that. Argrave looked for him, but didn’t have much luck. He walked through the grove, head swiveling about as he searched. In time, he spotted Sophia looking up at the monument ponderously. He went to join her.

“Hey,” he greeted her.

She looked over. “Hey, dad.”

“What’s on your mind?” Argrave asked.

Sophia said nothing for a long while, before she finally said quietly, “Do you ever wonder if I could’ve done more with the power of creation?”

“Do you ever wonder if there’d be fewer names on this wall if I did things better?” Argrave shot back.

Sophia looked over. “Hey, don’t ever think—” she paused. “Ah. Point proven.”

Argrave nodded. “Regrets are natural. But… I don’t know. They’re like infected wounds. Have to clean your cuts, or you’ll lose parts of yourself.”

Sophia went silent for a long while, then looked back at the monument. “I don’t think I can ever stop regretting.”

“Yeah.” Argrave nodded. “Me neither. That’s why you’re my daughter.”

“I’m lucky.” Sophia flashed a smile, but her eyes were sad. “But… for there to be a concept of good fortune, there has to be misfortune to counter it.”

He sighed. “For every buyer, there’s a seller.” He looked at her. “You see your brother?”

“Vincent?” Sophia guessed at once, despite the fact she had countless others. Argrave nodded. “No, I didn’t see him. But he typically goes over there.” She gestured, where the grove artfully warped to conceal a small little pathway.

Argrave gave her quick kiss to the forehead, then walked off where she’d pointed without another word. He found Vincent sitting on a stone bench, looking at beautiful glowing flowers with his one good eye. He noticed Argrave immediately. Vincent was always too sharp for his own good.

“I’m fine,” he said at once. “I just… like to think alone.”

Argrave didn’t say anything, just wordlessly walked up and sat down beside his son. Vincent stirred, clearing his throat. Father and son sat there in the quietude, while the distant whispers of the rest of the family filtered through the bushes.

“I think you should be the one to teach the kids, next year,” Argrave finally broke the silence. “Educate the new generation about those who’ve passed.”

“I hope you’re joking.” Vincent leaned in, clasping his hands together. “I’m not suited for it. I’d muck it all up. Everyone else is better suited.”

Argrave leaned in. “You don’t think it’s important?”

“No!” Vincent disagreed at once, eye widening. “No, I get it. Just…”

“Just what?” Argrave pressed.

“I don’t deserve the honor.” Vincent scratched his cheek. “I’d jack it up.”

“Don’t think for a moment your mother and I haven’t noticed the things you’ve done behind the scene,” Argrave continued, and Vincent jerked his head over. “The support you’ve shown us. The support you’ve shown this family. I don’t know why you get like this every time you come here, but you are loved, Vincent. I gave you my name—my real name, before I came here—to show you that.”

Vincent closed his eye and crossed his arm, thinking deeply. “Do you ever think about it?”

“Why I came here?” Argrave guessed, and Vincent nodded in confirmation. “Not much. At some point, it stopped mattering to me. I’m here—that’s what matters.”

“But why you? And how?” Vincent looked over.

“Gerechtigkeit claimed that I was his soul, sent elsewhere and recalled back.” Argrave shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Sounds a little too convenient. The Heralds knew, but the price for the answers was too high. Like I said, it doesn’t matter. None of those questions really matter. What you do—that’s all that matters.”

Vincent tapped his elbows, keeping his arms crossed. He eventually looked over. “I’ll do it if you let me go with you two to the moon.”

Argrave laughed. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Vincent continued. “I want to help.”

“Listen…” Argrave rubbed his palms uneasily. “I know Anneliese and I say we’re doing this because we want to, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be incredibly rough.”

“I’ve been there, forget?” Vincent pointed out. “I want to make it nice and livable. My intent is to be motivated to bring about comfort in the new world so that I can enjoy it.”

“You lack magic,” Argrave said, being blunt so as to pour cold water on his plans.

“I don’t care. I want to expand what this family has built,” Vincent continued. “I want to give hundreds of thousands of families the opportunity the people on that monument—and billions of others beside—never got.”

“Vincent…” Argrave sighed. “You’ll just go to your wife and hitch a ride with her if I refuse you, won’t you?”

“I would never admit that out loud,” Vincent said stone-facedly.

“But it’s true,” Argrave finished.

“I would never confirm that.”

Argrave sighed, long and hard. “Well… I didn’t expect this. Not a bit.” He patted Vincent’s shoulder. “I’ll tell Anneliese.”

“Thank you,” Vincent said.

“Thank you what?” Argrave put a hand to his ear.

“Thank you, father.” Vincent managed a smile.

“Good kid.” Argrave patted his shoulder, then stood. “You deserve my name. Lazy, but with a good heart and secret diligence. Simpler put… just like I was when I had that name. And what do you know? You’re going to another celestial body, just like I did.”

Vincent nodded. “Strange, these coincidences.”

Epilogue 4.4: Family Vacation

The moon.

Long ago, it’d been transformed as a result of Lorena’s bargain with the Heralds. They used Sophia’s power of creation to create something of an isolated habitat for the lunar dragons. It couldn’t be compared to the moon that Argrave had known, by all accounts. Most prominently, it had something of a protective atmosphere, permitting life from their planet to persist. It had taken Argrave and Anneliese well over thirty years of study—the bulk of which had come in the past four years—to settle upon the idea that colonizing the moon might be possible.

Anneliese, Argrave, and a small cabal of researchers had been endeavoring to that end for a very long while. It was an idea born of Argrave’s whimsy, which eventually consumed Anneliese until her passion for the project overtook his own. The vast infinity of space appealed to her innate curiosity. Argrave just thought it was a cool idea, and enjoyed working with his wife.

Argrave hadn’t ever expected it to be something actionable. Now that the day had finally come, he was filled with a sensation he hadn’t experienced in well over ninety-seven years. It was nostalgic, almost. Confronting the impossible. Tackling uncertainty. As emperor and empress, uncertainty rested in the quality of their solution. Now, they weren’t even certain if what they were attempting was possible.

Just like it used to be.

“What was that?” said Anneliese.

Argrave was brought back to the present, and he looked right. Anneliese sat on a chair, looking out across the coast. They were waiting for their ride to arrive. It was a strangely mundane thing, this journey to space of theirs. In time, their people could develop vessels that bridged the gap on their own. Until then, why not take advantage of the already-available dragons?

“Did I say that out loud?” Argrave shifted in his chair.

“Mumbled it,” she answered.

“It’s just like it used to be,” he clarified.

Anneliese’s face scrunched. “Is it? Lives aren’t in the balance.”

“Who says there aren’t?” Argrave crossed his arms. “We’ve avoided war as best we could, but… there’s only so much we can do before things can’t be contained, controlled. Even some of our own children think it might be wise to head overseas, claim new territory for the Blackgard Union. If we can do this… can’t we prolong the peace?”

“Prolong, maybe. Stop altogether? Never.” Anneliese said, shaking her head wistfully. “Conflict is inevitable. I’ve come to peace with that fact. Someday, war will come, either from within or without.”

“Hmm.” Argrave fell into thought. “It’s funny. You can’t stop worrying about our more-than-grown children, while you’ve moved on from the Blackgard Union. Whereas I…”

“…can’t stop worrying about the Union, while you’re ready to let your children strive alone.” Anneliese smiled.

Some people thought it strange that they could hold opposite positions, yet still not fight amongst each other. Respect of the other and total trust eroded all of their differences as soon as they arose. True kinship, Argrave felt, couldn’t be broken down because the other held differing thoughts. What few disagreements they had only helped to refine the nuance of their own beliefs. Because they truly respected the other, they realized the other had come to their beliefs for a good reason.

“What do you actually want to do on the moon?” Argrave wondered.

Anneliese studied him peculiarly. “How long have we been talking about precisely that?”

“No, I mean…” Argrave shook his head. “The stuff that comes after.”

“Start a garden on my own,” Anneliese said decisively, knowing precisely what he meant without him needing to elaborate further.

“Hmm.” Argrave nodded, thinking of his older relatives who’d done precisely that. “Grandmotherhood becomes you.”

“And you?” Anneliese ignored his joke, leaning in closer.

“Got this image in my head, clear as a movie.” Argrave paused, finding the words. “It’s a whole day. We bring the kids up to the moon, wow them. We play catch. Come evening, we go to our little moon hut. You check on your garden while I cook us a meal of moon food.”

“Moon food?” Anneliese repeated.

“Yeah,” Argrave chuckled. “You know—animals, plants, all brought up on the moon. We serve the meal, and—”

“And it’s terrible, because you can’t cook,” Anneliese interrupted with a playful smile on her face.

“And it’s terrible,” Argrave agreed, leaning in until his face was right beside hers. “Though you would all smile and say it’s great because you love me, and then you’d tell me the hurtful truth later when I least expect it.”

Anneliese scoffed. “I wouldn’t need to tell you. You can taste for yourself.”

Argrave suppressed his laughter and continued, “And then the kids would go home to their parents, and we’d go to bed. You’d complain about my habit of stealing the blanket while we sleep, and I’d propose reasonable solutions that you never seem to like. Then, with perhaps a few twists and turns, we’d fall asleep together. Just like we have every day, almost, for the past ninety-seven years.”

“It’s quite the mundane day,” Anneliese said musingly before she kissed his cheek and leaned back in her chair. “I love it.”

Argrave leaned back as well. “That’s our shtick, isn’t it? Putting ourselves in difficult situations, then trying our damnedest to get out of them so we can enjoy mundanity.”

“Only to find ourselves ill-suited for it,” Anneliese added.

Argrave grunted in agreement as he listened to the quiet crashing of the waves. “I’ll miss this place, a little.” Anneliese agreed with a light grunt, just as he had. He turned to her once more. “How do you think it ends?”

“Life?” Anneliese focused her amber eyes.

“No. Our journey.” Argrave crossed his arms. “I thought this was our end. We’d spend our next millennia in that estate, reaping the benefits of compound interest. But now we’re leaving. We’re moving again, walking the path.”

“I think it only ends when we do,” Anneliese said, all too deliberately.

“And will we survive forever?” Argrave asked, a hidden question laced into the words.

Anneliese didn’t speak immediately. “We survived Enrico’s murder. The blame, the misery, the grief. I can’t see what could split us apart by this point.”

They both went silent for a long, long while. Eventually Argrave offered his hand, and she took it firmly.

“Maybe we could start a moon family, separate from this planet’s family.” Argrave looked at her stone-facedly. “We could have team battles. You know, competitions. See which family is better.”

Anneliese—who’d grown hardened callouses to his jokes after their many decades—broke into laughter at the absurdity of his proposal coupled with his entirely stoic demeanor. She nearly tamed her laughter after a dozen seconds before it claimed her again, and she twisted out of her chair in the uproarious mirth that followed. Eventually her laughter broke Argrave, too, and he joined her on the sandy beach until they both had tears in their eyes.

Anneliese sat back on her chair, massaging her cheeks which already felt somewhat sore from smiling. “I’ll consider it,” she finally answered back, nearly beginning another laughing fit.

A familiar sensation drew both of their eyes. They turned their heads in time to catch Lorena appearing from the skies, alighting on their island with a gentleness that her speed didn’t suggest. Argrave and Anneliese were sobered by the arrival of their space taxi, and the two of them stood to go greet the leader of the lunar dragons, Lorena.

They saw Raven dismount from Lorena’s back. Raven had settled on a mortal form of his own—that of gray hair and gray eyes, standing a shade taller than his wife Lorena as she morphed from her draconic form to a mortal one. Raven didn’t carry a shadow of either the Smiling Raven or the Alchemist. Rather, Lorena had brought him peace during their struggles over the years to keep their relationship stable.

“All of the people you instructed we bring are being ferried over as we speak,” said Lorena, foregoing pleasantries. Her personality hadn’t changed much—playful, straightforward, compassionate. “All that remains are you two newly-minted lunatics. Are you having a change of heart, laughing so deliriously?”

“Not at all,” Argrave rebutted immediately. “We’re eager to be off.”

“That’ll die in you quickly,” said Raven. Even if he’d changed a great deal, his cynicism remained sky-high. “You’ve likely grown soft, living so decadently in this palace.”

“We could find out if I’ve gone soft right now, Raven.” Argrave proposed with a cheeky grin. “Both ways, in fact.”

Lorena flicked the back of Raven’s head, and he looked at her annoyedly. “I’m too young to be a widow,” she reprimanded her millennia-younger husband. “Said your goodbyes, all that?”

Argrave put his arm around Anneliese. “We’re as ready as can be.”

Lorena nodded, then turned around. Her form slowly shifted to back to how it had been—the gigantic, dominant red dragon, crowding up the island with its sheer size. Argrave and Anneliese walked up steadily and silently. Raven climbed up first, using Lorena’s spines as stairs, almost. They did the same until all came to sit on Lorena’s back. There, it had been morphed almost pleasantly to accommodate them, and they sat.

The following moments were unlike anything Argrave had experienced. The lunar dragons’ ability to cross space wasn’t high-speed travel, exactly—if it were, they could’ve simply crashed into Gerechtigkeit at full speed to kill him. Research into the matter revealed it to be a sort of spatial distortion, where the beating of their great wings quite literally distorted space in some manner. It, like so many other phenomena, wasn’t yet fully understood.

Perhaps they’d change that. Perhaps they’d adapt that into vessels of the Blackgard Union’s make. That, like so many other objectives, was one of their goals.

The journey itself felt impossibly brief. In one moment, they stood at the beach. In the next, the clouds were passing them by, and a wave of stars just after them so myriad and mobile it looked like a meteor shower. There was an infinitesimally brief moment of suffocating vastness—the grip of the vacuum of space, perhaps, or something more mystical—and then it was over.

And then they saw it. The endless redness, marked by craters like pockmarks on its surface. Like a sea of red chalk, or an endless mesa of red sandstone. From so high up, he could see its curve—the horizon, so clear and different Argrave felt his head lurch to accept it. And when he looked up… Argrave saw their planet, his planet. The blue oceans, the white clouds, even the continents just barely visible past it all…

Words could hardly do what he felt justice.

Raven, either out of respect for their awe or simple lack of anything to say, remained silent as Lorena found a spot to land. And it was much appreciated. Just as they needed to adjust to the sights, the sensations, so too did they need to adjust to the mystic disruption. There was power here. Power different from that on the planet they’d left.

Lorena alighted on ground in front of a ramp descending into the moon’s surface. As she began to enter, Argrave and Anneliese looked out across the desolation of the moon. As he watched, only one thing came to mind.

“We’ve got a lot of damn work cut out for us,” Argrave said.

“That’s one way to put it…” Anneliese answered back.

“It might be impossible, bluntly put,” Raven added.

Argrave inhaled the moon’s air deeply, reveling in the harsh sensation and new, bizarrely sterile smells. “We’ll make it possible. We have to.”

Raven looked at him skeptically. “Do you?”

“Well, no,” Argrave conceded. “But I want to.”

END OF JACKAL AMONG SNAKES

It's been a long journey, but we've reached the end of it. Thank you for being with me every step of the way, or at least navigating to this final page. I'm putting a close to this stories, this series, and this world. It was great fun while it lasted, but I'm more than eager to move on to new projects.

If you're interested in more projects of mine, I'm already working on them and posting them actively! The next page will have all you need to find them. Regardless, thank you for reading.

Disregard Fantasy, Acquire Currency

Business magnate Willem dies at age 87, entirely alone. Populists around the world generally cheer for such a sad fate, but his reincarnation into a world of fantasy would surely put a damper on their enthusiasm. Sword and sorcery, grand adventure, life-threatening monsters and calamities... Willem stands poised to enjoy a life of splendor.

Only, our protagonist doesn't care one whit about all of that. To him, there's only one magic: correcting an inefficient market. He long ago mastered that sorcery, and he's certainly not about to try and learn another when the old tricks work just as well in the new world. No matter how fantastical the world, one thing never changes.

Money makes the world go round.

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The Bell Tolls for Me

A succession crisis consumed the Kingdom of Dovhain following the death of Edgar the Great. In the treacherous royal court, Princess Isabella had endured every indignity, overcame countless injustices, and fought against the most vicious of enemies. At first it had been for survival, but in time, it became for hope of a better future. She became the queen, only to be betrayed by those she trusted most.

Somehow, Isabella woke up eight years in the past, one week after her father’s death. Though she’s once again found herself in the tempest of misery that is the royal court, she hasn’t lost everything. The experience and knowledge that she gained in the struggle for the throne might help her steer fate in the direction that she wishes.

But the question she naturally poses to herself is a difficult one. Should she pursue her own happiness, or attempt to better the realm? She might pursue paths long denied to her-- exploring the depths of magic, forging lasting bonds with people she can trust, and gaining fulfillment she once thought an impossibility.

Or... will she dare reach for it all?

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