As Li felt the aged man''s hands grip tighter around his forearm, he felt a spark of connection form between them, tingling at his skin. Though the old man''s eyes were crazed and unfocused, behind that veil of doddering insanity, Li knew there was something whole there, someone who had once been…


    _____________________________


    Ivo stuck the wooden end of his rake to the soil with force, digging it in a few centimeters. His hand clenched around the rake handle, the sinewy muscles of his forearm tightening as he exerted force. He grit his teeth as he felt an ice cold breeze shift through him, stealing away warmth, leaving him at a shivering chill.


    "All ye faithful to thend, to our greatdy Morrigan!" he shouted, his voice, a deep and booming baritone, projecting forwards and enveloping a crowd of men and women just like him. No, not a crowd, at these numbers, this was more like a small army.


    Men and women who had spent their entire lives tending to thend. They wielded various farming tools in their hands – rakes, ploughs, sickles, and the like – in their calloused hands just like him. They were cheap and ragged linens and leathers like him. But most importantly, they believed just like him.


    Believed in the goodness of Morrigan, their guardian, their beloved, their hope. The source of the life flowing through their farms, the origin of the faith they had kept close to their hearts through their whole lives just as their fathers and father''s fathers had before them.


    "These foul winds!" Ivo pointed up to the sky. It was dark, the moon and stars choked away with ck clouds full and heavy not with rain, but with pure darkness. "The ckened skies! All signs that the demons are upon us! With the adventurers falling, Riviera has decided to put up its walls, wishing to cower while our greatdy pushes the foul horde back. Will we be such spineless little whelps?!"


    "Nay!" came the resounding answer in perfect unison.


    Ivo nodded. He knew their answer. He could feel their emotions, their drive, their will to fight. They were all connected, after all. Joined in union to their belief in the greatdy. And he was their center, the high priest of Morrigan, the center point upon which all other faithful relied upon.


    "They, those posh and prim city dwellers, those nobles that know not the meaning of thend, call us weak. They say us untrained, wielding but dull farming tools. They say we are mad to leave the walls while the demons rage outside."


    Ivo turned, facing the great forests, the wondrous Violetwoods that had provided so much for all of them. Now, a dreadful aura settled upon it, the light of ck mes emanating in the distance.


    "They are right. We cannotpare to knights and adventurers in the way of the sword or staff. But together, we are strong!"


    Ivo took his rake and held it above his head. "[Roots of the Kindred One]!"


    This was a spell he had personally learned from the greatdy as her high priest. It was a power far beyond human means, but it was proof that she trusted him above all else to lead her flock. The mass blessing spread through the farmers behind him in the form of bright green roots of wispy energy.


    When a roottched onto a farmer, it used their life force to spring forth to another, and to another, until finally, all of them were connected.


    Ivo''s hand began to tremble with exertion, and he used his other hand to hide it, not wanting to show weakness. It was a miracle he could cast such a spell in the first ce, a phenomenon made possibly only because so many of his fellow believers were willing to shoulder the burden of its cost. Even then, this was a spell meant for one of Morrigan''s roots to cast, not a mortal like Ivo.


    Ivo knew that there would be consequences on himself for using a spell like this, but in the face of losing everything he held dear to him and everyone behind him, none of that mattered.


    "Now, brothers and sisters of the earth, we are bound not only by trade and belief, but by blood! We share between us not only our strength, but our wounds. Are you willing to make this sacrifice?"


    "Been willin'' the moment I stepped outta'' the city walls," called out one of the farmers. "Speech is mighty nice, but we ain''t got time to dawdle around while the greatdy''s strugglin''."


    Ivo smiled. "And that is so." He took his rake and pointed it to the ominous, ckened form of the forest. "Then we march forwards! y any demons you see! Do not stop until you reach the greatdy!"


    Ivo breathed hard as he leaned against a tree trunk. It had been an hour of constant fighting now, of rabid struggle against countless monstrosities, and finally, they had made it to a clearing where he had decided to call a short break.


    A much needed one. Wave after wave of imps, hellhounds, blood fiends, spider-like bebeliths, and even an infernal golem had very much bloodied them. Ivo grimaced as he took a scanning look over his brothers and sisters.


    Many of them were drenched in blood, open scars littering their bodies. The able bodied fed the weaker ones elixirs they had stockpiled for this moment, with the lesser priests among them liberally casting healing spells while seating the wounded upright, stopping them from drowning in pools of blood.


    [Roots of the Kindred One] connected all their fates, amplifying their strength and mitigating damage by spreading it all throughout them. A supremely powerful spell on a level that Ivo figured had not been cast in centuries at the least, but even that was not enough.


    Individually, Ivo knew none of them could do anything against the demons, not even the priests among them such as himself. There was simply far too much of a difference in raw power between an individual farmer and an individual demon, and there were far, far more demons than there were farmers.


    So Ivo had linked them into an unified unit, but this could only go so far. The wounds they received from all ends umted among all of them, and as more and more of them sumbed, the worse these wounds would be and the weaker they would get.


    Still, it was because of the greatdy''s spell that they had only lost a quarter of their numbers. They would have surely been wiped out to thest man by now without it, hunted down by hellhounds or bludgeoned to death by flying imps.


    Ivo clenched his fists around his rake. The metal end had be warped and bent entirely out of shape from blunt trauma and extreme heat. He knew the greatdy was still alive. He could feel her in his heart, though by the minute, her presence became weaker like a vanishing mirage.


    His goal was to secure the greatdy''s safety, but to do so, he would have to get everyone to march soon, without proper recovery, condemning most of them to death.For almost a decade, he had led these very same people, nurtured them, guided them, told them when to nt, when to give offerings to the greatdy, and now, he was telling them to die.


    It felt so wrong. So awful. A knot twisted in his stomach, and he felt sick, wanting to vomit.


    "Thinkin'' bout'' something?"


    Ivo looked up between struggling breaths as the farmer that had responded to his speech from before limped to his side. The man was so young. Barely twenty, perhaps, with how there was still some youthful fat on his cheeks. Perhaps there would have been a rosy tint as well, but it was impossible to see through the blood caked on his face.


    "Bernard, aren''t you,d?" said Ivo, his wordsing out in a wheeze. "I recognize you. Have those wonderful berries by the eastern walls, aye?"


    "That''s me alright." Bernard coughed. A deep cough, the kind that rattled out when there was liquid in the lungs. In this case – blood.


    Ivo shook his head. "You''re too young to be here. I thought I made meself clear – only those that left their farms, their ancestralnds, to the next generation were allowed toe."


    "Don''t matter no more, does it? I''m here now, and it''s not like you can kick me out."


    Ivo sighed. "I suppose so."


    Bernard made a disgusted face. "And I wasn''t about to sit on my arse while the demons made a mess of ournds. Those primal runes them Lakelies carved onto our walls are mighty impressive, but even an illiterate fool like me can tell it won''t do no good against demons for more than a few days. Better to go out fightin'' than gettin'' hunted down in that cramped little city."


    Ivo nodded, but he hardly listened, instead focusing on the battered and bloodied bodies before him. He had so little energy. His eyes felt heavy. His arms even heavier. He wondered if he could even stand up again. In the face of crippling mortality, doubt began to flower. If he was this weak, what right did he have to bring all his brothers and sisters out to a death march?


    "Come on, old man, what''s on yer mind?" said Bernard.


    "Am I an old man already?" Ivo let out a weakugh. "Perhaps so. Only a senile fool would have thought this a good idea."


    "This ain''t a good look for you." Bernard lightly punched Ivo''s shoulder. "Yer our high priest. Know more about Druidry than all of usbined. Morrigan herself might''ve fancied you for one of her roots."


    "If only I wasn''t so ugly, eh?" said Ivo, his smile baring chipped and crooked teeth. "


    "Heh, the greatdy''s just picky is what I say. You got a lovin'' wife, too, so you got no room toin."


    "Aye, that''s so. And I''m lucky I''ve a wee littless to entrust the future of my ancestralnd to." Ivo sighed. "I know all our brothers and sisters here have also secured theirnds, that their worldly affairs are settled, and yet, I...simply cannot make them march again, knowing it is their blood that I am shedding."


    Bernard extended a shaking hand to Ivo''s shoulder and grasped it with a tight grip. But even as tight as the young man wanted it to be, Ivo could almost feel the energy just leaking out of the bloodied boy.


    "All of us are here cause'' we''re ready to die. Some of us are willin'' to die for our greatdy, others for theirnd, others like me cause'' we wanna'' return to the dirt on our own terms. But in the end, it''s all the same – we''re ready to die.


    But y''know, we wouldn''t feel that way weren''t it for you. High priest, you''ve led our harvests, healed our sick, and shown us the greatdy''s will more times than I can count. It''s cause'' of that that we trust you to make our deaths mean somethin'', so whatever ya wanna do, just do it."