《In the Wake of the Amnesia Bomb [Epic Progression Fantasy]》


 The Rages of the Heavens

    <blockquote>[First Era ¨C Year 3 of the Divinity War; Phiira, near Haphron¡¯s Temple]</blockquote>


    The moment he released the bowstring he finally heard the sound he''d been waiting for. It had started as a harmless idea, a way of training his entanglements and timing together as they searched for the hidden temple. How could he have known what it would bring? Sure there were the clues. Well, the first clue had been easy to ignore, but the second, not exactly.


    Moraithe stood on the precipice, the thin veil of mist curling around his feet like a phantom''s breath. The world felt hollow. The winds that should have carried the scent of distant flowers instead brought only the acrid tang of smoke and ruin. The air crackled, not with power, but with the weight of loss. The kind of loss that gnawed at the edges of the soul, leaving only shadow in its wake.


    The sky above was bruised with storm clouds, and the air hummed with something he couldn''t name, something wrong, dark¡ªunnatural, like the very fabric of reality was tearing itself apart. A tremor of dread rippled through him, his heart pounding, as if the land itself whispered in warning. That feeling was the first clue.


    Norgoth strode beside him. A brooding presence as dark as the longbow he held. With raven-black hair falling over sharp, piercing eyes.


    Moraithe glanced back to Saffrael, still stunned by her ethereal beauty which contrasted with the rugged lands they traversed. The sight of her unfathomable sapphire eyes, like drinking the depth of eternity, made his breath catch in his throat.


    He turned back to the path to find a new target. Moraithe had been practicing the strike again for the thousandth time. He was always too late or too early. The trick was to trigger the entanglement at the exact moment the shot was to land. Entangling the mass of the entire boulder he''d marked with a runic key some leagues back. Entanglement didn''t care if the object of an entanglement lay across the glade or across the galaxy. It worked the same in either case. A simple mass entanglement like this would share the mass between the two objects, namely his arrow and the boulder.


    He had already laid a runic key on each of the arrows. Now all he had to do was perform the entanglement. A touch of blood, draw, loose, now entangle. The arrow hit the branch he had targeted and blasted through it with a force he could only have dreamed of, blowing the branch clean off.


    It was the sound that did it. Suddenly a strange chittering and wheezing echoed through the woods. Then, from beneath the shadowed canopy of the bunchknot trees, something emerged. A dark inhuman thing shambling through the woods.


    "What is that?" Moraithe wondered aloud.


    "It''s a scout," Norgoth whispered, ducking behind a bush, "one of the Severed."


    Saffrael snatched a sword out of seemingly nowhere. "Then the war has come to this world as well."


    Grabbing another arrow Moraithe nocked, sighted, and loosed. He tried to entangle just as before. The arrow struck the creature¡ªthen, inexplicably, tore itself free and dropped to the ground, leaving the creature angrily pawing the ground for a charge.


    "You were too late again," Norgoth observed.


    "Why can''t I get the timing on this?"


    Norgoth took one of his own arrows sighted and just as the scout was building up momentum he blasted a hole right through the creature. It tumbled and fell screaming, a strange scream that seemed to call to the skies themselves.


    They waited for an answering call, but all was silent.


    "Lucky it was alone. We''d best get away from here."


    Saffrael''s sword disappeared somewhere, and just as mysteriously out came a map. "We have to find that temple¡ªbefore more of them show up."


    The wind whipped through the tall grass, and the storm clouds above them grew darker by the minute. Moraithe''s frustration was palpable, his eyes darting over the endless expanse of land. He couldn''t shake the feeling that they were so close, yet it felt like the temple was taunting them, just beyond their reach. He pulled out another arrow and prepared for yet another attempt at the entanglement.


    The wonder of the temple was not anything inside it, rather that it was a permanent entanglement. Those were rare. Few people, quite few indeed knew the technique to make an entanglement last beyond the moment of concentration. To find such a structure, to study it. They hoped to be able to unravel this great secret and catapult their power to heights few had ever reached. If things went as he hoped he would soon go from being no one, among the weakest of all souls, to becoming a power few could compare. Then he might finally amount to something in this war.


    "How long are we going to keep this up?" he muttered, loosing his arrow once again. But this time he triggered the entanglement too early and it dropped off course. He cursed. "It''s here, right? Somewhere in all these trees."


    Saffrael, trailing behind them, glanced up from an old journal she''d somehow replaced the map with. She had that distant, focused look that meant she was processing something¡ªsomething he wasn''t quite seeing yet. She spoke in her usual calm, controlled tone. "It''s not just here, Moraithe. It exists¡ªbut not in the way you think. You''ve been looking for it all wrong."


    He stopped, his boots crunching against the dry ground, and glared at her. "What do you mean? The temple''s not exactly hiding itself."


    Saffrael, walking a few paces ahead, didn''t look up from the journal in her hands. "It''s not hiding. It''s in a revenescent." Her voice was soft but confident.


    Moraithe stopped mid-step. "A what?"


    "Revenescent," Saffrael repeated, as if it explained everything.


    Norgoth kicked a small rock down the path. "Great. Now we''re chasing a temple that''s in some magic pocket dimension. Just what I needed to hear."


    Saffrael ignored Norgoth, her gaze still fixed ahead, the journal clenched tightly in her hands. "It''s not just in a pocket dimension. It''s in a revenescent¡ªbut only its physical form came through. The walls, the floors¡ªthey exist here, but their properties don''t."


    Moraithe furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of it. "Wait... so the temple''s here, but it''s not here?"


    "Exactly," Saffrael said, now turning to him with a hint of frustration in her voice. "The physical structure is here, yes. But it''s not fully in this world. You can touch it, you can feel it, but you can''t interact with it the way you should be able to. It''s solid, but it''s not."


    "Like an illusion?" Moraithe asked, his tone bitter, trying to grasp the idea.


    "No," Saffrael flipped a page in the journal. "It''s not an illusion. The walls are real. They just don''t behave like they should. They''re like... remnants. Fragments of something that crossed over but didn''t come all the way through. It''s physically there, but entangled across into this space."


    Norgoth chuckled, shaking his head. "So we''re chasing a solid ghost temple? Great."


    Moraithe stopped pacing for a moment, staring at the storm clouds above them. It made sense in a way, but it was maddening. The temple was right there, but it was like trying to grab fog. "So, we can''t touch it like a normal temple. But how do we find it then?"


    Saffrael snapped the journal shut, looking at them with quiet certainty. "Debris."


    "Debris?" Moraithe echoed, his voice full of confusion.


    Saffrael nodded, her gaze hardening as she looked at the landscape around them. "The journal says this kind of entanglement sometimes leaves behind traces, as if the temple didn''t come through perfectly. Some pieces¡ªfragments¡ªslipped out. They don''t belong in this world. Those are the clues. The debris."


    Norgoth raised an eyebrow, looking between Moraithe and Saffrael. "So we''re hunting down some magical junk? Pieces of the temple?"


    Saffrael didn''t hesitate. "Exactly. Things that don''t belong. They''re anomalies¡ªfloating, out of place. Pieces of the temple that didn''t fully cross over."


    Moraithe''s mind was racing now, slowly beginning to piece it all together. "So we don''t just walk up to it. We track the debris. We find the floating junk, and that''s how we know where the temple really is."


    Saffrael''s eyes sharpened. "Yes. The temple isn''t going to give itself away. But the debris will."


    Norgoth shrugged, but there was something more serious behind his grin. "Not my first choice for tracking down an ancient temple, but I''m listening."


    Moraithe glanced at the storm clouds above, a sense of clarity slowly settling over him. They weren''t chasing the temple¡ªit was more like they were following the trail it left behind. "Right. Floating debris. That''s the key. Stay sharp, and keep an eye out for anything that doesn''t belong."


    Saffrael nodded, her focus already shifting as she scanned the horizon. "The pieces are out there. We just have to find them."


    "And then we''ll master an entanglement so rare it''s only spoken of in legend and song."


    The group fell into silence, each of them focused on the task at hand. The storm clouds continued to roll in, and the world felt heavier, as though it were holding its breath. With their plan clear, they moved forward, no longer just wandering through the land. Now, they were hunters, tracking the temple by the pieces it left behind.


    And somewhere ahead, hidden in the storm, the temple waited for them.


    A vine somehow floated in the distance before them. ¡°Look. This must be it.¡± They rushed toward the floating debris, excitement boiling.


    A roar shattered the tense silence. It came from the distance, deep and guttural, a sound vibrating through his bones, so primal it shook the very core of the earth beneath him. The tension in the air thickened with an oppressive heat, and his breath quickened as his eyes scanned the horizon.


    He''d hoped they would have more time, but it seemed the war would not wait. The war that he and Norgoth had started by breaking Throm''tor''s throne to rescue Saffrael.


    Like black fire falling to the earth, the Severed impacted trees and earth, a grotesque wave of writhing shapes that had once been human. Their bodies twisted unnaturally, crawling forward in a mass of venomous hunger, monstrous forms writhing like ink-black shadows. The leader was a hulking silhouette, tall and terrible, his form cloaked in an aura of shadows and black fire.


    With a single motion, the leader raised his hand, and the first bolt of anger shot out¡ªa streak of searing white that flashed across the sky, jagged and violent, like lightning splitting the heavens. It crackled and burned, as it tore through the air with the force of a thousand storms. Then it slammed into the ground shattering stone with a deafening blast that sent waves of burning heat toward them, scorching the air.


    Moraithe felt it hit him then¡ªa direct blow to his chest, as though a fist had punched through his ribs. The sensation was jagged, like a blade scraping across his heart. A fury so hot it felt like his very soul might burn away beneath it. His skin prickled with the heat, his thoughts disintegrating beneath its ferocity. And yet¡ªbeneath the unbearable pressure, something deep within him flared to life.


    A warmth surged within him, like sunlight pouring through a cracked window. A soft pulse of peace that pushed back against the fury, like a candle struggling to hold the night at bay. Gratitude. That was what it felt like, he realized with a sudden shock.


    He stumbled back, blinking, confused. It wasn''t his doing¡ªhe hadn''t conjured it, hadn''t asked for it¡ªbut it was there, deep within him. A wellspring, endless and constant, that shielded him from the attack. He was protected. Untouched.


    The fires of anger struck him but didn''t burn. A scorching blast of light turned into harmless sparks as the force of gratitude pushed it away, like a wave crashing against a cliff, breaking into foam.


    Then Moraithe saw his friends writhing upon the ground. They were caught in the same barrage of anger, crumbling beneath the weight of it, their movements faltering, their clothes and hair smoldering. Their faces were tight with effort, their hands trembling as they fought to defend themselves.


    The Severed approached, the darkness in their eyes spreading outward like an infection. Moraithe ran between them to protect his friends, giving them a moment of respite to regain their feet.


    "Everyone jump on my call," Saffrael called, "Now!" And they all jumped. While in the air a stone house appeared to surround and protect them. As their jump concluded they all landed on an expertly cut stone floor.


    Norgoth spluttered. ¡°You had a house in your revenescent this whole time?¡±


    But the Severed were immediately hacking and burning through the door and tearing off the shutters. One of the Severed had been stuck inside the wall when it had emerged, the trapped body shuddered and moved no more. The walls gave them a chance to regroup and put their backs against something solid.


    Though the searing heat of the attacks had receded beneath Moraithe''s shield, something else now crawled at the edges of his consciousness¡ªa coldness, like fingers of ice reaching into his mind.


    Fear.


    It wasn''t like the anger. The fear didn''t strike with the force of a storm, it crept in, cold and suffocating. It warped reality, bending the world until it felt alien, twisted. His vision darkened at the edges, and the ground beneath him seemed to waver, as though it might swallow him whole. His breath hitched, his pulse quickened, and just as the first tendrils of dread crept up his spine, something shifted.


    The stench of rot filled his nostrils. His hands were dripping with blood¡ªhis own? No, no. It didn''t matter. The stone shifted beneath his feet like it was made of soft earth, threatening to swallow him whole. His stomach lurched. He could feel the cold, wet breath of something breathing on the back of his neck, the sounds of scraping nails against stone.


    The world bent and shifted. The ceiling was alive, the knots in the wood swirling with movement, each one formed into a grotesque face, whispering in a thousand voices. His limbs went numb, his knees buckling, and he fell to the ground, unable to stand. His heart hammered in his chest as the world continued to twist around him, and all he could do was gasp for breath, his mind struggling to hold onto itself.


    Through the suffocating haze of terror, he heard it¡ªscreaming.


    "It burns! Please, help us!" Norgoth''s voice, raw with panic, shattered the hallucinations for a moment, but only for a moment. His words slipped back into the nightmare''s grip.


    Norgoth screamed, his voice strangled as his flesh stripped away in blackened cords of ash.


    "Norgoth!" It was Saffrael this time, her voice strained, desperate. "No! Please! Help!"


    Moraithe could barely focus on their voices. The fear was too much. It wrapped around him, crushed him, paralyzed him. But through the haze, through the pain, he could feel them, fighting, struggling against the flames of anger the Severed wielded.


    And then, a thought pierced through the fog, quiet but certain. He could help them.


    Gratitude. The warmth, that strange, constant pulse within him. It hadn''t failed him in the face of anger. Maybe, just maybe, it could help them fight back. It couldn''t shield them from fear, not any more than it had him. But it could protect them from one thing¡ªthe burning anger that had the power to turn them to ash.


    With what strength he could muster, Moraithe reached deep. His chest tightened as he focused on that warmth, that strange, endless well of gratitude he couldn''t fully understand. It pulsed inside him like the steady beat of a heart, like the rise and fall of breath. He couldn''t move. He couldn''t fight the fear that clutched at him like chains. But this¡ªhe could do this.


    The gratitude spread.


    A soft, golden light erupted from him, flooding the air around him like sunlight bursting through fissures in a storm, wrapping around his friends like a protective cocoon. The light pulsed, steady and unyielding, like the calm in the eye of a storm. It was shielding them¡ªnot from fear, but from the flames of anger that threatened to consume them.


    Norgoth gasped as the shield wrapped around him, his shaking hands steadied. Saffrael''s wide eyes flickered, down to Norgoth as his flesh was slowly restored. Her expression softened, the tension melting from her shoulders as the searing heat of the anger faded.


    The Severed lunged, their twisted faces contorted with hunger and rage. The nearest ones hit an unseen barrier, flung backward as if struck by an invisible hand. They snarled and staggered, confusion flickering across their grotesque features. The Severed paused. Their fury had no place to go. The shield was too strong, too constant. Moraithe felt their rage shattering against it, turning into harmless sparks. The anger could no longer burn them or break them.


    Gratitude. It countered anger as one of the four great powers¡ªgratitude, anger, self-assurance, and fear¡ªsomehow they had been entangled across all of the universe, becoming magics in their own right. But gratitude was the greatest of all, for it could be traded for goods and services. It was their currency, for it could both shield and heal. When others feel gratitude for you, this natural currency forms inside your soul. He didn''t remember earning any particular wealth of gratitude, so where had it all come from?


    His gratitude now shielded them from the searing wrath of the Severed. And though fear still gnawed at their minds, they could fight. In fact, the power of his gratitude was rapidly healing their scorched flesh.


    But Moraithe''s own vision was still warped, still twisted. His mind reeled with images¡ªbodies rising from the earth, twisted faces leering at him, the sound of cracking bones. The fear was still there, eating away at him. But he held on, focusing on them. The shield around them was strong, stronger than he ever thought possible.


    He couldn''t move. He couldn''t escape the cold grip of fear that still clutched his chest. But they were protected. The fear hadn''t taken hold of them, for they had enough self-assurance to resist it. Their self-assurance stood as a bulwark against fear as surely as his gratitude had against the bolts of anger.


    Moraithe realized, with a strange clarity, that maybe that was enough. Even paralyzed by terror, he had done something. He had protected them.


    Even if he could do nothing for himself, his friends might survive this. And they could fight back.


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    The Severed roared in frustration, their power shattered by the protection he had given his friends. They couldn''t destroy them. Not now.


    And Moraithe, though still trapped in the icy grip of fear, held onto that one, fragile hope.


    The world was still burning. The fear still whispered in his ear. But for the first time, he knew that even in these darkest of moments, he could help them survive.


    A distant bellow of horns echoed across the battlefield, a sound that froze the air. It was a rallying cry, a signal to retreat, to regroup. But it was also a challenge to the Severed, daring them to come forth. The invaders¡ªthose twisted horrors¡ªwere pulling back, regrouping as well. But Moraithe, Norgoth, and Saffrael had no such luxury. The battle had been long and fierce, and now the enemy was closing in again, relentless in their assault.


    "We need to find somewhere safe. I think that call came from the great fortress on the downs. They say its lord can entangle himself with the entire structure."


    "An entire fortress?" Norgoth scoffed, and fired an entangled arrow, blowing apart one of their attackers. "And they expect us to believe that?"


    Saffrael threw spear after spear, grabbing each from her revenescent. "I say it''s our best bet."


    Norgoth nocked another arrow and held it between the fingers that clutched his bow. "Better than here I guess."


    "I''m going to pack up the house. Be ready to move."


    Moraithe tried to stagger to his feet, feeling his legs buckling under him, the fear, paralysis, and strain of holding the protective shield almost too much to bear. The shield held firm, but he felt a creeping numbness in his limbs. His vision was blurred, his mind frayed. Horrific hallucinations still bled into his thoughts¡ªtwisting shadows, strange faces, figures he had never seen before.


    "Norgoth," he gasped, barely able to form words, "I¡ªI can''t¡ª"


    But Norgoth was already there, his face grim, his jaw clenched. "Hang on, Moraithe. We''re getting out of here. Just stay with me."


    Without hesitation, Norgoth hoisted Moraithe onto his back, his strength like an unyielding mountain, unwavering even as the Severed pressed closer. Saffrael put the house away in her revenescent and moved to keep pace beside them, her sword drawn, a fierce protector even in the face of overwhelming odds. The shield was now their only bulwark against the oncoming tide of shadowy foes.


    "Move!" Saffrael cried, and Norgoth surged forward, his legs pumping as they sprinted for the long distant fortress, their only hope.


    Now, seeing the fortress, that speck in the distance, he wondered how they had even heard the blast of the trumpet''s call. It must have been entangled with bellows of such ferocity that the sound could travel a dozen miles.


    On and on they ran, Moraithe struggling with the hallucinations and pouring all his focus into keeping the shield over his friends as the bolts kept raining down upon them. His friend''s breaths came in ragged gasps as they struggled to keep ahead of the Severed, from being blocked in by them. There was safety in the fortress, or so they trusted¡ªif only they could make it.


    The eerie howl of the Severed echoed around them, but Moraithe, despite his paralyzing fatigue and wavering consciousness, pressed on, his will alone holding the shield intact around the trio. He could barely focus; his vision swam with mad images¡ªtwisted faces, contorted limbs reaching from the edges of reality, their mouths whispering horrors he couldn''t fully comprehend.


    Moraithe¡¯s shield flickered, its golden light wavering like a dying ember.


    "We must be getting close," Saffrael''s voice broke through the haze, though it sounded distant and muffled, like underwater. She reached out to hold Norgoth steady, then glanced at Moraithe with concern, the heavy weight of battle having worn them all thin.


    Moraithe gritted his teeth and dug deep into his remaining strength, desperate to keep the barrier up. It was not his well of gratitude that was running dry, never that, but his strength to project it over his friends. The shadows clawed at it, eager to break through, but each time they got too close, a surge of energy would send them reeling back. The shield was his, but so was the strain it caused him¡ªeach pulse of energy to sustain it made his limbs feel heavier, colder. The paralysis in his legs spread higher, inching up to his chest, but he held firm.


    Finally, they crested a hill and found the fortress looming ahead, an imposing structure on the horizon. Moraithe could barely hold his eyes open, his mind slipping further into delirium. But he knew they had to reach it. It was their only chance.


    They crossed the barren land, the ground beneath them cracked and scarred by battle, the sky dark with smoke and ash.


    "Moraithe," Norgoth grunted, half-turning to face him. His voice was strained, but there was something in his eyes, a desperate plea for something more than just survival. "We can''t keep this up much longer. You''re bleeding energy¡ªhow much longer can you keep this going?"


    Moraithe didn''t answer immediately. The shadows seemed to swirl around him, their phantasms growing in number as if his mind were giving way to the madness of such horrors. The hallucinations were becoming more vivid. Faces of his friends¡ªnow twisted and distorted¡ªemerged from the darkness, their features dissolving like smoke as they screamed his name.


    "You''ve got to keep it together," Saffrael urged. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the fog of his mind like a knife. "The fortress is right ahead¡ªjust a little more! Don''t let go now!"


    Her voice seemed to echo from a distant shore. The world around him was warping. Was this reality? Or just another dream, another nightmare? How could he know if any of this was real?


    And then, through the chaos of his mind, he saw it¡ªthe fortress, its looming spires cutting through the twilight sky. It was a massive structure, a testament to its owner''s power. The walls shimmered with faint, golden light, and though the gates were shut, Moraithe saw the intricate entanglements binding them. Those entanglements were the key¡ªthe fortress was sealed by a kind of magic so powerful, it was said no invader could breach it, and no enemy could tread there without being consumed by its will.


    But as they neared, the shadows of the Severed closed in, their howls growing louder.


    Moraithe''s energy waned further. A tendril of darkness was winding into his mind, wrapping around his consciousness like a vice. His vision blurred, and for a split second, he thought he saw the form of a monstrous shadow, its glowing eyes staring directly at him. It called to him, beckoned him to let go, to surrender to the dark.


    His grip on the shield faltered.


    The shadows surged forward, eager to tear into them. An army stood between them and their destination.


    "Moraithe!" Norgoth shouted, seeing the wavering shield. The Severed were close, too close.


    The fortress gates¡ªalready shimmering with the power of the owner''s entanglements¡ªbegan to glow brighter, but they weren''t opening. Not yet.


    "I ¡­ can''t ¡­ hold it." Moraithe whispered through clenched teeth.


    He was losing the fight. He knew it, felt it in his bones. The pain from the effort of holding the shield was too much, his power drained.


    How were they to break through those ranks of Severed to the fortress? "I have an idea," Saffrael shouted. "Grab onto that tree."


    They surged toward a lone tree at the edge of the horde of Severed. Their arms wrapped around it and suddenly, they were inhaling water and struggling to hold on against a massive weight, so much water. How had the ocean suddenly poured out on their heads? Moraithe struggled to hold his breath, but just as his lungs were burning with the need to breathe the water stopped. He choked and gasped for breath.


    Norgoth sucked in a breath. "How did you store an entire lake in your revenescent?"


    The way was clear, at least most of it. Maybe they could break through the final ranks and reach the gates.


    With wild desperation they slammed into the line of Severed, only to be rebuffed. They couldn''t break through. Moraithe had passed the edge of his strength to extend the shield over his friends. Now the Severed that had been swept away in the flood were returning to surround them.


    But then, just as the shadows reached out to break through, there was a tremor. A ripple in the air, as if the very fabric of reality were shifting. The gates of the fortress slowly creaked open, and an enormous wave of golden light poured out, engulfing the Severed.


    Stone fingers of the entangled fortress stretched out, reaching far beyond its walls. The Severed began to scream as they were caught, bound by the power of the lord of the fortress. The shadows flailed, pulled into the fortress like ragdolls trapped by an invisible force. The night air grew thick with tension, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. The enemy''s assault faltered.


    Moraithe''s shield finally began to give way. Norgoth and Saffrael collapsed to their knees, exhausted beyond measure. The shield flickered and then vanished completely as his focus snapped. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he looked up just as Saffrael and Norgoth crawled to his side. The golden light from the fortress walls illuminated their faces, but his vision was still clouded, the hallucinations lingering.


    "Stay with us, Moraithe," Saffrael urged, her voice softer now.


    But Moraithe''s body felt like stone, heavy and unyielding. He tried to speak, to tell them it wasn''t over, but no words came. His mind swirled in a haze of confusion, the remnants of his shield still flickering in his vision.


    And then, a new voice cut through the chaos¡ªa deep, resonant voice filled with power, so commanding it made the very air tremble.


    "You''re safe now. But we should hurry."


    Moraithe barely managed to lift his gaze toward the source of the voice. A figure stepped through the shimmering light of the gates, tall and imposing, a cloak of green and silver billowing behind him. The man''s eyes were like pools of molten gold, and in them Moraithe saw not just power¡ªbut the weight of untold knowledge. The walls of the fortress bent around him, binding itself to him in a way that seemed truly alive.


    "You''ve come just in time," Norgoth said, his voice tight with exhaustion.


    The man nodded, his expression weary.


    "We''re not done yet," the lord of the fortress said, his voice carrying the certainty of someone who had seen the worst the world had to offer¡ªand survived it. "Get inside. We have work to do."


    Saffrael and Norgoth helped Moraithe to his feet, and together, they staggered into the fortress, the gates closing behind them with a final, resounding boom. The Severed were locked out, but they could still feel their presence, like a cold wind at their backs.


    And as the darkness encroached upon the walls, Moraithe felt a flicker of hope¡ªthin, fragile, but there. They had made it. For now.


    Defenders manned the battlements, their weapons ready, and refugees huddled together within the walls, their faces drawn with fear and exhaustion.


    Once inside, the sheer magnitude of the fortress''s power hit them like a wave. Moraithe took a deep breath as the fear that had gripped him for so long finally released its hold. He blinked, his body slowly coming back to life as his senses sharpened. The world was clearer now, the hallucinations fading away.


    "What is this place?" Saffrael whispered, her eyes wide as she surveyed the fortress. The walls seemed to pulse with energy, and Moraithe could feel the entanglement suffusing the place¡ªan overwhelming, suffocating presence that made it feel as though the very earth beneath them was alive, aware.


    From the walls, the defenders unleashed a barrage of arrows, entanglements, and siege weapons against the Severed. But it wasn''t just the weapons that struck fear into the enemy¡ªit was the walls themselves. The massive stone structures seemed to move and shift with a life of their own, forming an impenetrable barrier, crushing the Severed with an almost casual disdain.


    Saffrael stretched her legs and back, kneading her cramped muscles. "So it was true, what they said about the lord of this fortress entangling the whole of it."


    "How is it possible?" Norgoth wondered. "He''s standing against an entire army. How could such power even exist?"


    Moraithe stared in awe, his mouth dry. He wasn''t the only one in shock. The other refugees, the defenders¡ªeveryone within the walls was staring, struck silent by the raw, unearthly power of the fortress. It was as though the land itself was under the control of a single, unfathomably strong will.


    But the Severed didn''t stop coming. They were drawn to the fortress, like moths to a flame. No matter how many were destroyed, more poured in, driven by some insatiable hunger for destruction.


    Moraithe checked for his weapons, his quiver still held arrows, but something was missing. "Where''s my bow?"


    "Don''t worry" Saffrael grabbed something out of seemingly nowhere and presented it to him. It was his bow. "I stored it in my revenescent when you fell."


    He took it, mounted the battlements, and turned toward the Severed. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to get in more practice with entanglements. Especially if he ever wanted to get even remotely as strong as the lord of this fortress. He lined up his shot ¡­


    Then a blast of force seemed nearly to rupture his eardrums. The wall covered them to stop a massive wall of anger as it roared over the fortress. What was that?


    A new presence had entered the battlefield. A Severed of such power that his every step caused tremors to shake the earth. His was a blackness that seemed to drink in light, turning it to tendrils of midnight. Fiery hatred bloomed in his eyes like the rays of a thousand suns.


    From the corners of his eyes Moraithe saw heads fall lifeless from the shoulders of hundreds of defenders, and their bodies dropped an instant later.


    Moraithe stood untouched by the attack, but shaken to the core.


    The horrified faces of the defenders told volumes. And a shout rang out, ¡°The Severed brought a baron to the battle.¡±


    ¡°What is a baron?¡± Moraithe asked one of the surviving defenders who stood beside him.


    ¡°One of the highest ranked beings in existance, higher even than our lord. With power to exceed him.¡±


    ¡°Bring him down!¡± Someone cried. An entire volley launched at the baron. Moraithe fired his shot, and finally timed the entanglement perfectly, he could hear the sound of the strike from here, but the baron didn¡¯t even notice.


    His next step forward broke the earth, rending the walls of the fortress itself. Moraithe lost his footing, falling to his knees as the walls shook.


    Then the world went white, and the sky itself seemed to shudder.


    A presence descended¡ªa man of impossible power, floating in the sky above the battlefield. He was like a storm incarnate, his very presence dwarfing the stars themselves. The Severed recoiled, panic spreading through their ranks as they saw him. With barely a flick of his hand, he unleashed a wave of destructive force that carved through the ranks of the Severed, scattering and obliterating all their forms in an instant, even disintegrating the imposing bulk of the baron. A massive canyon cleaved the land in the wake of the strike, a testament to his sheer might.


    In an instant, the godlike lord of the fortress and even the Severed baron had been utterly eclipsed by this being of unimaginable power.


    He descended slowly as if the earth itself bent to his will, landing before Moraithe and his friends with quiet grace. The air around him thrummed with power, and every step he took seemed to make the ground tremble.


    Moraithe''s world slowed as the man reached toward him and lifted his chin, locking eyes with him. "You seem well," he said, his voice like thunder, yet strangely calm.


    Moraithe could barely speak, still reeling from the overwhelming display of power. His mind raced to comprehend what had just happened. This man¡ªthis force of nature¡ªwas more powerful than anything he had ever imagined.


    And yet, there was something in his eyes¡ªsomething familiar. A recognition.


    But before Moraithe could gather his thoughts the unfathomable being scooped him out of the world, and tossed him into another place, a strange place with other worlds floating in a sky amid a panoply of brilliant light. His friends were gone, the world was gone, and he stood alone on a strange shore.


    Moraithe stammered at the being who had just saved the world and whisked him away. "You ¡­ What ¡­ Why would someone like you take note of someone so insignificant?"


    "There is nothing insignificant about you. I was once where you are now, stumbling in the dark with none to lead the way. It is like entanglement, I find my glory in your glory. I seek to lift you, and every soul, up to be like me, to have what I have. You of all people deserve that much."


    "Me?" Moraithe nearly fell back.


    "You have a well of gratitude that dwarfs even my substantial reserves."


    "What? I''m no one, I can barely throw a punch, let alone save anyone. How ¡­ Where did I get such wealth?"


    "Due to Throm''tor''s experiments, amnesia has stolen most of your strength. But that wealth of gratitude remains, and no one can take it from you, not without your approval."


    "But after what you did how could I have more than you?"


    "By my estimates, you must have over half the gratitude in all the universe. That is quite a lot of money, quite a lot of power." The being stepped in and looked closely into his eyes, as if he could see his very soul. "But you don''t remember me, do you?"


    "You just saved the world. I ¡­ Should I?"


    "My name is Elithir. Once, I was your father." The being turned and stepped away to look out over a strange sea. "But before that, you were something even greater to me, and likely, just about everyone else."


    "What does that mean?"


    Elithir turned back to Moraithe. "It''s no great riddle." He tapped Moraithe gently on the forehead. "If you could only remember."


    "Why don''t you at least tell me what you know about me."


    "Very well. But first I must do something about that world. There is a war coming to all worlds, the enemy is combined, and they have no true bodies, but great wickedness. They have killed a great many. So I must save and protect what I can."


    Suddenly they had both returned to the world, back to the fortress with his friends.


    By some trick of the light the world seemed to invert, everything falling through the surface of the earth to emerge on the inside, as if all things were bent inward, inside the planet, and they could see the whole surface of the world at once. Elithir rose into the air, high above the land or rather in the center of it, as if in the center of a hollow world. He spoke and every corner of the world was filled with the sound. And every eye turned up to see him.


    Moraithe stood there, feet sinking into the detritus of the battle, and watched as the impossible unfolded before him. The ground trembled, shaking as if the earth itself feared what stood at the center of it. He stood there¡ªthe one who had wrenched the world back from the edge of oblivion, Elithir, whose presence was a churning, infinite thing. Not man, not god, but something beyond both. The air rippled with the force of his voice, heavy and deep, vibrating the bones of the world itself.


    "Look upon me," Elithir called, his words weaving through the vast expanse of the sky, over oceans, through mountain passes. They passed like a soft breeze over the land, touching every ear, soothing the deepest aches, and raking the soul with their weight. "I offer you mercy, and in mercy, I offer you choice."


    Moraithe''s heart hammered in his chest. He had felt the tremors of that distant battle, the unspeakable invasion that had only just been halted. The dead. The broken. They lingered in the aftermath, their cries muffled, but not silenced. Was it enough? The gods had no place here anymore, not after what had been done. But this... this thing... this being who now held the pulse of the world in his hands, whose voice soothed yet stirred unease in the pit of Moraithe''s stomach.


    The words, so casual, so unnervingly warm, rippled through the air: "I will heal your wounds. Your bodies shall mend, your lives restored. No more shall you wander through a thousand ages seeking to reclaim what has been lost. I shall protect you¡ªif you choose it."


    Moraithe''s breath caught. Lives restored? How many had fallen in the wake of this battle? How many would need to spend ten thousand years to remake or restore their bodies, until their next death, over and over, only to face the same damnation once more? Their lords had failed them, but this... this being, Elithir, was offering them an escape¡ªa way out of the war. A way into his embrace, where time could be turned and twisted, a place where the world itself could be saved.


    But the offer came into focus as the words grew darker, richer. "I will take your world into a revenescent," he intoned, as the land around Moraithe trembled beneath his feet. "A pocked dimension. Your world will be sheltered. And I will keep it safe."


    A silence followed, thick and suffocating. Moraithe could feel it¡ªcould hear the distant stirrings of hope, mingled with fear. Who would follow? Those who wanted to hide from the fire, from the rage, would seek shelter. But the others ¡­ the ones who refused to be hidden?


    Elithir''s voice, now heavy with command, slipped into every crack of the land, into every corner of their souls: "I will take those who wish it, and the matter of your world shall come with them. I will separate it, twist it, divide it into two. Two worlds, separate and whole. You may remain, whether you wish to fight or merely wish to reject my words."


    Moraithe''s chest burned. He did not want to be hidden away. He did not want to leave. He wanted to fight, this was his war, he had started it, and he would finish it. He wanted to stand with the others, not be coddled away in some¡­ pocket of reality. His hands clenched into fists, and at that moment, he knew there was no choice. He could never bend to this offer.


    Suddenly the inversion was undone and the world was right-side-out again. Then, the earth below him began to rise, a violent surge that pressed against him with such force that it seemed as though the world itself would crush him. He stumbled, legs shaking, and then¡ªa rush. The ground ceased its rebellion, and with a suddenness that stole the breath from his lungs, he was thrown upward.


    The sky spun in dizzying arcs as he soared, weightless, for a brief moment. Around him, the jagged edges of the land were cast as if in some great celestial forge¡ªeach sliver of earth a speared fragment of the world. And before him, rising and falling, endless spikes of broken land shot from the ground like towering spires. The shape of the world was coming apart.


    But then, just as quickly, the pressure returned¡ªforceful and unyielding, holding him in place, pulling him down to the surface once again. His feet found purchase on a jagged piece of land, and there he stood, gazing around in awe.


    He wasn''t the only one. Around him, he saw others¡ªdistant figures, each standing atop their own jagged piece of earth, each caught in their own moment of shock and wonder. The world was changing. The great being had wrought something incomprehensible. The world was breaking apart. But somehow, the world was being remade, remade into something new, into two.


    The spikes removed from the earth were taken and brought together. The metallic gleam of something immense shone between the great spikes of earth. The spike on which he stood fell, his stomach lurched as all the spikes were brought down onto it. Crushing the fragments together, locking them into place, the world folded upon itself. Though it ought to have been deafening, somehow the sound was muted. The air hummed with power, and for a moment, it seemed as though time itself was bending, warping, like the fabric of reality itself was being skinned and stitched together anew.


    The spikes of land¡ªeach bearing a piece of the old world¡ªsank, melding with the world''s core, only to rise again like skin being stretched over bones. Slowly, the world took on a new shape. Continents shifted like puzzle pieces, some crushed into mountains, some spread thin into valleys. The seams were barely visible now, only small ripples here and there where the earth had been laid back together.


    Two worlds now orbited one another.


    Then, in a blink, the other world was gone¡ªswallowed whole into the revenescent, a pocket of the cosmos that shimmered with light beyond the known world.


    Yet, in that brief instant, in the flicker of light from beyond the veil, as the revenescent opened to swallow up the other world, Moraithe swore he saw something in the depths of that revenescent¡ªhundreds of worlds, perhaps thousands, spinning like stars in a sky that should not exist. It was as though the very essence of the universe had been scooped up and wrapped in a blanket of some untouchable mystery. There, in the boundless depths, thousands of orbs shined with billions of lives, and infinite futures.


    Moraithe stood still, his breath caught in his throat. The enormity of it pressed down on him. What kind of being could do this?


    His eyes traced the outline of space where he had seen the revenescent open wide to swallow a planet, his mind racing. This Elithir was beyond a force, beyond a god, he was something beyond comprehension. Beyond reckoning.


    Just what kind of a person, what kind of power, what kind of being could entangle entire worlds?


    Moraithe swallowed, his resolve hardening. He had not chosen to hide. He had to know.


    He turned to find Norgoth and Saffrael right beside him. But before he could speak a word the unfathomable might of Elithir stood before him again.


    "I promised you some answers. Perhaps it is time for a long overdue talk."

 Show Me The Use of Power

    <blockquote>[First Era ¨C Year 3 of the Divinity War; The Faint, region undefined]</blockquote>


    <blockquote>[A Memory Within a Memory ¨C Year 0 of the Divinity War; Throm¡¯tor¡¯s World, Throne Room]</blockquote>


    Answers? Elithir¡¯s words echoed like the voice of a thousand winds.


    Moraithe glanced at Saffrael and Norgoth, and then back to Elithir. He nodded. Elithir placed a hand on his shoulder. His presence seemed to stretch across the very fabric of reality, and suddenly they were elsewhere.


    He looked around, confused. He had heard stories of the Infinite¡ªof beings with unimaginable power¡ªbut standing before Elithir, a being whose mere presence made the very air feel charged, he understood what it meant to be insignificant.


    Under the dim sunlight, the land here seemed to pulsate, mountains rising and sinking, rock and soil blending and parting as if the earth was caught in an eternal dance of transformation. The ground beneath them shifted as if the earth itself was breathing, rising and falling in slow, deliberate motions. From deep below, Moraithe heard the earth groan, an unsettling lullaby of something immense and restless.


    Moraithe turned to Elithir, eyes wide, seeking some sense of familiarity. ¡°Where¡ªwhat is this place?¡±


    ¡°An inconvenient world for a conversation,¡± Elithir answered, his tone cool but cutting. ¡°But a necessary one. Look at it.¡± He waved a hand at the swirling landscape¡ªjagged mountain peaks pierced the sky seemingly at random. Lava flowed in streams and rivulets across the valleys. ¡°This is a world in flux. Rising, falling, shifting, changing¡ªjust like you.¡±


    Moraithe staggered as the ground buckled beneath him, and a great fissure cracked open nearby, spilling molten light. The earth rumbled like a warning, but Elithir¡¯s gaze was unyielding. ¡°You will learn,¡± he said softly. ¡°Your life is changing. If you survive, you may reshape this place, just as it will reshape you.¡±


    He turned to Elithir, his mind still reeling, frustration seeping through his voice. ¡°You brought me here for answers, didn¡¯t you?¡± Moraithe¡¯s throat tightened, his voice cracked with the weight of the question, the exhaustion, the uncertainty. ¡°To tell me how I lost everything I was before. How I became less than nothing.¡±


    The ground beneath them rumbled, the earth shifting in subtle waves as if the world itself were trying to swallow his anger whole.


    Elithir moved closer, the weight of his presence pressing down on Moraithe like gravity. He raised a hand, the air crackling with his infinite presence, and gestured at the shifting land beneath them. ¡°To live is to change. Life is chaos.¡± He swept a hand outward, and Moraithe followed his gaze. The distant peaks shuddered, sinking like dying giants, only for new ridges to claw their way from the earth.


    Moraithe stood frozen, his mind whirling. ¡°Why is this world ¡­ shifting like it¡¯s on the brink of collapse?¡±


    Elithir paused for a moment, his voice dropping like he was reliving something he wished could stay buried. ¡°Mithsyrium.¡±


    Moraithe blinked, the word landing like a stone. ¡°What¡¯s ¡­ mithsyrium?¡±


    ¡°Elusive, volatile. A substance like a force of nature.¡± Elithir¡¯s tone grew more intense, his words flowing faster now. ¡°It was born out of the very war you ¡­ or rather we started. That and experimenting with power¡ªuntested, reckless power.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s brow furrowed, but he didn¡¯t interrupt. His mind was spinning, trying to catch up.


    ¡°This world was already torn apart before the fighting, but both sides desired what this place contained. So, they created weapons¡ªadvanced, dangerous. But they weren¡¯t just weapons. They could reshape reality itself. But you can¡¯t control forces like that. Not when you don¡¯t even understand them. Not when you¡¯re too eager to wield them.¡±


    Moraithe felt the weight of those words press on him. ¡°So, what? They ¡­ triggered this?¡±


    Elithir nodded, his expression darkening. ¡°Exactly. When the weapons¡ªwhen they collided¡ªit wasn¡¯t just rage or fire. It was chaos itself that was unleashed. The mithsyrium was born from the collision, and with it, everything changed. The fabric of reality¡ªwhat we thought we knew¡ªbegan to melt. Mithsyrium was born, and the land itself became unstable.¡±


    Elithir continued, ¡°Now this world is shaped by mithsyrium, a substance which melds matter together. As it drinks in matter, stacking it together, melding it into one, it grows so dense it causes the world to shift and sink. But as it sinks it grows warm, heat causes it to release what it has taken, only to rise again. Because of this cycle, nothing stays the same. It is beautiful in its chaos ¡­ and dangerous.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s chest tightened, the pieces finally starting to fall into place. ¡°So it¡¯s like this world¡¯s been in a state of flux ever since then? The world itself is fighting to stabilize, but it can¡¯t. It¡¯s in a constant battle against itself?¡±


    Elithir met his gaze with an intensity that made Moraithe feel like the ground itself was watching him. ¡°Because the source of it all¡ªthe mithsyrium¡ªis too chaotic. Just like your memories. Just like your power. Both of them¡ªfractured, shifting. But you¡¯re not the only one in flux, Moraithe. The war you started¡­ you merely triggered it. It was already waiting. Ever since those souls let the will to dominate others fill their hearts this devastation was always going to happen.¡±


    Moraithe stood there, staring at the ever-shifting land, the pieces of his life, and the world, still broken and shifting like a thousand untold secrets. And for the first time, he understood the magnitude of what he was up against. Not just the war. All the souls in the universe were like the mithsyrium, bound together in a constant, never-ending dance of chaos and change.


    He looked up at the stars, at the dying sun, a burnt yellow. His mouth fell open in shock, he recognized it. He knew this world. This was the ruins of Throm¡¯tor¡¯s world. ¡°You said the war came here? That they desired something it contained?¡± Moraithe leaned forward, his brow furrowed. ¡°Why would anyone fight over Throm''tor¡¯s ruin?¡± he asked, his voice sharp, disbelief threading through his words.


    Elithir, ever calm, took his time before responding. His tone was slow, deliberate, but there was a slight edge to it, as though he¡¯d been anticipating the question. ¡°Because, apparently, the wreckage of his throne might still hold a certain power.¡±


    Moraithe ran a hand through his hair, a skeptical laugh escaping him. ¡°Power?¡± he repeated as if the word itself were strange. ¡°How? The ones who powered it¡ªthe Severed who made it work¡ªthey¡¯re the very ones we¡¯re fighting.¡±


    Elithir¡¯s gaze softened with a hint of amusement. ¡°Not power for us,¡± he said, voice quick, cutting through the confusion. ¡°Power for them. The Severed. For them, it¡¯s not about what¡¯s there. It¡¯s about what used to be there. The history of an object. The memories it holds. And the greater the history, the weightier the power.¡± He paused letting his words settle in the air. ¡°What could be greater than the fragments of the Throne of Souls?¡±


    Moraithe stood silent, trying to wrap his mind around it. The idea felt like a puzzle piece that didn¡¯t quite fit, the edges sharp and jarring. ¡°So the Severed take their power out of time itself?¡±


    ¡°Not so much out of time, but out of an object¡¯s history.¡± Elithir stepped back, brow furrowing as if unsure how to explain. ¡°The Severed cannot perform entanglement or hold a revenescent, their powers are all knotted up inside their hatred. But we¡¯ll talk about that more later. I came here to answer your questions. Particularly why you have so much gratitude shielding you.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s gaze fixed on him, waiting in rapt attention.


    Elithir¡¯s voice carried the weight of eons, each word deliberate and measured, as though preparing to unravel a secret that spanned lifetimes. ¡°Our minds have always existed. In some form or other, we have always been thinking entities, aware of our own existence. But none of us, not a single one, knew anything beyond ourselves. We were unaware of matter, of energy, even of one another. There was only us.¡± He paused, allowing the silence to stretch, like a deep breath taken in the dark. ¡°And then you came.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s brow furrowed, but Elithir continued, his voice now softer, as if tracing the outline of a distant memory. ¡°It was you who woke us all. With your presence, we began to understand¡ªslowly at first¡ªthis new world, this world beyond ourselves. As we scrambled to make sense of it, you traveled onward, waking more and more of us. Again and again. On and on, until I believe you had woken nearly every living soul.¡±


    Elithir¡¯s gaze shifted to the horizon as if seeing something only he could perceive. ¡°And that is why, Moraithe, you hold our gratitude. A deeper, greater well of gratitude than anyone else could ever comprehend. You gave us awareness of each other¡ªa gift so vast that none could fathom its true worth.¡±


    He turned back to Moraithe, his voice growing more introspective. ¡°But it wasn¡¯t until much later, long after we¡¯d uncovered the laws of matter and space, long after we had learned to use entanglement and revenescent, and even to craft these bodies we now inhabit, that you decided to finish your work.¡±


    ¡°When I reached out for another soul to foster, you were there.¡± There was a slight pause before Elithir spoke again, the next words falling slowly, like stones sinking into the depths of an ocean. ¡°I didn¡¯t recognize you at first. But it didn¡¯t take long to realize who you were. And that¡¯s when I became your father.¡±


    His eyes softened, an almost imperceptible change in the way he looked at Moraithe. ¡°I taught you all that we had learned over those endless eons. I taught you how to craft your body. As you grew it, your mother kept its elements safe in her revenescent. And then you began to grow strong, to understand.¡±


    Elithir¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Until Throm¡¯tor captured you.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s heart skipped, the name like a sharp knife twisting inside him.


    ¡°You were on a mission, a rescue mission, you know,¡± Elithir continued, his voice hardening. ¡°You were going to save Saffrael, whom Throm¡¯tor had kidnapped and hidden away, stashed in a place so secret that no one thought it possible to find. But you found it¡ªhis secret world, buried deep in a revenescent.¡± Elithir''s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. ¡°You sought my advice, gathered your courage, and you plunged in. And that is when he found you.¡±


    Moraithe could hear the weight in Elithir''s voice, the gravity of the moment when Throm¡¯tor, hidden away in his own darkness, learned his secret was revealed. ¡°He was stronger than anyone had imagined,¡± Elithir went on, his words now like stones being dropped into an abyss. ¡°He¡¯d crafted that throne for himself, made it from the souls of those who sought power. Power to rule, to dominate. And there, in his forge, he enslaved you. He meant to use you to finish his throne, to solidify his will until no one could deny him.¡±


    Elithir¡¯s voice grew lower, darker still. ¡°That was his goal. To make everyone bow to his will. Most particularly to see your mother and I grovel before him.¡±


    Moraithe reeled. Each word seemed to cut deeper, revealing things he hadn¡¯t known or hadn¡¯t fully understood. His mind buzzed with fragments of memories, some sharp, others distant, but none quite whole. ¡°I sort of remember some of that¡­¡±


    Elithir¡¯s gaze softened, and he nodded, though the sympathy in his eyes didn¡¯t soften the gravity of his next words. ¡°When you lost your memories, you lost your self-assurance. And that is what amplifies all your power. Especially entanglements.¡± He paused, letting the words hang in the air, a silent weight between them. ¡°We used to call it confidence, but that¡¯s easily confused with pride or bravado. Those don¡¯t bring power. No, self-assurance comes from knowledge, from experience. And those can''t be faked or inflated. That¡¯s why, when your mind was shattered, you didn¡¯t just lose your memory. You lost your power as well.¡±


    Moraithe stared at him for a long moment, considering the fierce displays of power he¡¯d so recently seen. ¡°During the battle, I heard them talking about lords and barons. What does that mean? How do you know how powerful someone is?¡±


    Elithir didn¡¯t answer immediately, his eyes distant as though pulling the answer from the depths of forgotten time. ¡°Just as we measure gratitude by units, so we know how much to pay, we measure self-assurance in the same way,¡± he said, his voice steady, almost mechanical. ¡°And that is how you know someone''s power.¡± The way Elithir spoke about it¡ªso casually¡ªleft Moraithe feeling small, insignificant.


    ¡°How powerful was this baron who killed so many of the defenders?¡±


    Elithir gave a small, thoughtful hum, then nodded as if to himself. ¡°Ranks are calculated based on self-assurance,¡± he said. ¡°You have to understand that these ranks were created rather organically as people began to divide out levels of power. After the first few each was slowly added over the ages. The first rank, a soldier starts at seven hundred and goes until fifteen hundred when they reach captain. They become a master at three thousand, a knight at nine thousand, a general at twenty thousand, and a lord at forty-five thousand¡± He paused for a moment, his eyes glinting with a knowing look. ¡°The rank of baron is reached at a hundred thousand, and ¡­ well, you get the picture.¡±


    Moraithe blinked, his mind struggling to process its sheer magnitude.


    ¡°How much self-assurance do I have?¡±


    ¡°At present, you have fourteen.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Worse than he expected. ¡°How long does it take to get that much power?¡± Moraithe asked, almost incredulous.


    Elithir looked at him, considering the question. ¡°Everyone is different,¡± he said. ¡°But on average, self-assurance can be gained at a rate of about ten units per year, as time is reckoned on the first star.¡±


    Moraithe ran his fingers through his hair, disbelief creeping into his voice. ¡°So ¡­ it¡¯ll take me sixty-nine years just to reach the level of soldier?¡±


    Elithir¡¯s expression softened, but his next words carried a weight that only grew heavier. ¡°It would, yes. But you once had far more power than you do now. You were a prince, Moraithe. A prince, with a self-assurance of around twelve million.¡± He met Moraithe¡¯s eyes. ¡°And if you regain even a fraction of your memory, a sliver of that power would likely return to you.¡±


    Moraithe clenched his fists. ¡°Twelve million?¡± His laugh was bitter. ¡°I can barely time the entanglement on an arrow. How am I supposed to reach that again?¡±


    ¡°If you are determined to do it it will be inevitable, the only question is how long it will take.¡±


    Moraithe felt his heart race at the thought, a glimmer of the strength he¡¯d once had flickering in the dark corners of his mind. He looked up at Elithir, the enormity of his next question weighing on him. ¡°So¡­ just how powerful are you?¡±


    Elithir¡¯s gaze never wavered. ¡°I am an Infinite,¡± he said simply, the word carrying a finality, a weight all its own. ¡°My self-assurance is approximately fifty-seven-billion.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What of Throm¡¯tor?¡±


    Elithir¡¯s expression shifted for just a moment, a shadow passing over his face. ¡°Before he fell, Throm¡¯tor had around twenty-three-billion.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s mind struggled to process everything. ¡°So gratitude doesn¡¯t have levels like that?¡± he asked, suddenly unsure of how to even frame the world around him.


    ¡°No,¡± Elithir replied, shaking his head. ¡°Gratitude is your wealth. It¡¯s measured, but there are no ranks, no titles. Though a shield of around two thousand gratitude is recommended for a soldier going into battle.¡±


    ¡°And how much do I have?¡± Moraithe asked, his voice low, a little wary now that the scope of his situation had fully settled over him.


    Elithir¡¯s lips quirked slightly as he raised a hand to Moraithe¡¯s forehead, his brow furrowing. ¡°Let me see if I can calculate it,¡± he muttered, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he concentrated. ¡°Ah, it seems you currently have over fifty-two quadrillion units of gratitude. To be exact¡­ 52,158,443,634,576,437.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Uh¡­ woah,¡± he breathed, the weight of that number nearly knocking him off his feet. ¡°What can I do with that?¡±


    Elithir gave him a pointed look. ¡°You could buy everything that exists if you wanted. But the Severed don¡¯t care much for ownership. They take what they want. You could, however, invest in training. And when you¡¯re ready, when you have the strength, you could outfit your own armies. Field forces greater than even mine.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s shoulders slumped. He hadn¡¯t even begun to understand the extent of his power, let alone how to use it. ¡°It¡¯ll be some time before I¡¯m ready for that.¡±


    Elithir¡¯s gaze softened. ¡°Perhaps not as long as you think. I¡¯ve never found your lost memories. They were likely fragmented, left behind somewhere around here where you lost them.¡± He paused, his hands moving gently to Moraithe¡¯s head. ¡°But there is a shattered memory still within you. Let me see if I can piece it together for you. Perhaps it will restore a sliver of your old strength.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, a nervous fluttering he couldn¡¯t control. This was it. This was the moment. Would he regain some of the power he once had? Would he be able to rise again?


    The reality faded as the memory came rushing in ¡­


    Slowly, the nameless man had raised a cold and steady hand pushing back his white silk hood. Brushing aside the robe, he clasped the stiletto at his belt, drawing it slowly from its sheath. He knelt and raised the blade above the expressionless man lying willingly on the floor before the throne. Reality scraped across the back of his mind intensifying into an unnerving shriek, and he shuddered.


    Dazzling hues of sunlight cascaded through the vaulted crystalline windows lining the temple hall. The elaborate arches rang with deep and alluring voices, chorusing in a rapturous hum.


    The vast expanse of the temple hall was suffused with a luminous glow in the light which skipped from stone to stone. His eyes cast about, the merest glance spoke of ages consumed in forming a single elaborately worked pillar. Each was hewn into twin-winged serpents, their tails coiled and bodies intertwined as they rose up from the floor. The serpents spiraled upward until back to back with heads held majestically, their wings unfurled, meeting the wings of their brothers, and spreading out to form the peaked domes which loomed over the magnificent hall. They stretched out in a broad, sweeping array, an endless sea of pillars, each similar but unique, vaulting up to dizzying heights. Every detail down to the tiniest scale or the sharpest talon carved and polished so finely as to make even a Dazzler gape in awe. Though in that place even the Dazzlers, weaving their wondrous tales, had long been wrung from all memory.


    ¡°Plunge the stiletto deep, soak the blade in his flesh!¡± The nameless man recoiled in pain as the cry rang in his ears, echoing in his mind, trampling his thoughts and pounding at his will as if it would rupture. Yet through the deafening noise, a still, calm whisper came into his mind that even the thunderous roar could not drown out. He knew the voice and it spoke to him. The grasp on his mind lifted. He had been freed for a reason, and time was running out.


    The whisper formed words in his mind, little more than a trace but more powerful than all the thunders of the earth. Only you can save us before the shackles bind us all eternally. It was a familiar voice resonating with power and wisdom, he knew that voice, knew it as surely as he breathed, but he could not recall the name of the voice that called to him.


    The nameless man stared back and forth between the stiletto and the familiar figure lying before him¡ªso familiar. He was supposed to do something, but what?


    A blaring roar scraped across the back of his mind, relentlessly intensifying into an unnerving shriek. He recoiled in pain as once again the cry rang in his mind, nearly breaking through the only coherent thoughts he could hold.


    The stiletto fell from his fingers and clattered to the stone floor beside the prostrated man, its blade clean. He clawed fingers into his scalp until the screams subsided. Something was wrong. Why am I here? He stared in frustration at the dagger on the stone floor. Though the howling had ceased, the sense of desperation prodded his thoughts past the stiletto, past wondering at the familiar figure lying before him. But his thoughts turned upward, with his gaze, to the wondrous throne before which he knelt.


    Its smooth sheen glimmered in a way that no amount of polishing could achieve; a throne wrought, rather than hewn, from stone. The forms of three enchantresses clothed in gossamer robes formed the throne. Huddled together, their skirts were being swept away by the wind, the first embracing it, the others fighting it. The flow of windswept robes and long, sweeping tresses formed the seat. Each strand of hair had been molded with seemingly impossible delicacy. With her back to the wind, the wings of one swept out protectively as if staving off the wind, the others swept back to catch it. Every vein in every feather had been molded into the stone. All skin and muscles flowed naturally. Circlets of flowers crowned each brow. Their eyes were framed by delicate lashes, and their lips looked soft and supple as no stone had ever seemed. Yet despite its beauty, a pain and darkness imbued the throne, as if suffering festered within the very stone.


    But the throne itself lay empty. Why do I bow before an empty throne? Eyes darted back to the stiletto and the figure lying at the base of the throne breathing slowly.


    Throm''tor struck him with his scathe lash, and the whisper faded. But an instant later the whisper surged, mingled with a fierce sense of urgency, a sense of desperation longing to be released. Bracing his swimming head his fingers dug painfully into his scalp until, at last, the dissonance subsided.


    Memories surged back, screaming through his mind like an overwhelming flood, hungry to consume him. And he finally remembered, he was Moraithe, and just a moment ago he had been standing upon another world. The memory came flooding back ¡­


    Upon that other world, moonlight had glazed over the flitting leaves and trickled across the windswept fields quelling his misgivings.


    Pressing his eyes closed he drank the clean scent of the meadows, the feathered touch of the cool wind tracing swirls across his skin, the serene music of the night drifting from the shadow of the woods. He let it fill him, pushing out the sense of the dread which threatened to seize him like iron. It was like the great breath before he leaped.


    ¡°You are certain I can do this?¡±


    Elithir clapped hands to his shoulders. ¡°Be prepared for him to take your mind. It was he who first discovered bewitchment. He has always been enamored with it.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°But it was forbidden by the council from the beginning.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen what he did to Saffrael. I would not have asked this of you,¡± Elithir¡¯s gentle, rumbling voice washed over him like soothing balm, ¡°but he has always been wary of me. He does not know your strength, he is blind to it.¡±


    ¡°He knows I am no match for him.¡±


    Elithir caught him by the arm. ¡°No, you cannot match his power nor his cunning. He has crafted darker and stranger works than the throne itself, but none more powerful. At all costs, he must not gain the throne or we are all doomed as his slaves and puppets for endless time. Hold to your course, keep the plan, only then can you hope to save her. Only then can you hope to save us all.¡±


    ¡°You truly believe I can do this?


    ¡°Of course.¡± Elithir released his arm and clapped him on the back. ¡°You carry all our hope.¡±


    Moraithe nodded slowly and with a deep breath. The universe stretched and he vanished into another world, Throm¡¯tor¡¯s world.


    Air erupted around him like jagged shards of ice threatening to rip deep fissures into his skin.


    Staggering, his feet hammered against the stone floor jarring his bones and resounding throughout the ancient stone hall. But he¡¯d come to the wrong place. The shrieks, clanking of chains, and sizzle of searing flesh were absent. The bloodstained world he had imagined, gone. Rather he found himself gaping as his senses flooded with beauty.


    Swirled runes danced across the floor of the vast chamber like metallic veins, seeming to have been born with the stone, so seamless was its silvered inlay. The ancient words focused, radiating glory from the throne which lorded in splendor over the temple. The scent of sweet spices lingered upon the air. Wafts still drifted from unnaturally beaming servants who bore golden platters¡ªheaping with assorted banquets of fresh sweet breads, spiced delicacies, and savory morsels¡ªpast glaze-eyed laborers.


    He stood at Throm¡¯tor¡¯s back. Yes, he had come to the right place.


    Then he saw it, it stood majestically before him radiating intense power, its beauty shrouding the hint of misery festering beneath its surface. The Throne of Souls! Gasping, he stifled the white-hot need to throw himself in a frenzy toward it. Careful, if he suspects ¡­ He stuffed the thought hastily into the back of his mind as Throm¡¯tor spun to face him.


    He knows! How could he know? Elithir protect me!


    ¡°Ah, Moraithe, welcome,¡± Throm¡¯tor dipped his brow in the merest nod, eyes locked on him in a knowing gaze.


    Ice surged through Moraithe¡¯s veins. He struggled to steady his voice. ¡°You have broken our trust and ensnared these pure souls with your wretched¡ªyour forbidden craft. The Council commands that you relinquish your power,¡± but his voice fell weak and tremulous. The plan, hold to the plan. He can¡¯t know. It is only his arrogance.


    ¡°The Council commands?¡± Throm¡¯tor snickered. ¡°And so the council has come with this great host of souls,¡± he gestured at the emptiness around him then pointed at Moraithe¡¯s chest. ¡°One weak and fragile man from a dead council, who cannot let go.¡± He strode forward fluidly, poked at Moraithe''s body curiously, and snorted. ¡°Crafted this yourself have you?¡± Without warning a whip, the infamous scathe lash wrapped around Moraithe. ¡°You will enjoy serving me. You are just in time to finish the throne. I think I¡¯ll have you sacrifice its creator to it.¡±


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    ¡°No!¡± Moraithe¡¯s senses flickered. Elithir, save me! Elithir ¡­ The glint of silver caught his eye as a familiar man beside the throne tucked a sheathed stiletto into his belt. He was so familiar.


    Take the shiny blade. The searing desires burned through his thoughts shredding his plan into vapors, nothing else mattered. He couldn¡¯t remember who he was or what he was doing.


    The familiar man lay down at his feet.


    With the hushed rustling of silk, Moraithe¡¯s hand plunged into the loose robes grazing the pommel of the stiletto secured at his belt. His fingers slipped over the grip, clasped it tightly, and drew it carefully from its sheathe, offering only a whispered ring of steel. Sinuous etchings adorned the blade and a flawless crystal orb capped its hilt. Some inimitable force compelled him to kneel before the prostrate man. The stiletto, he wanted to see how keen its blade was, he had to see how easily it could cut ¡­


    He came out of the rush of memory gasping for air like a drowning man, and he cast his eyes about the chamber laid out before him.


    No time for wondering, he stood fitfully kicking the stiletto behind him. Hurry! I must hurry! ¡­ To do what?! he snapped at himself in frustration. Again the scream shrieked in his mind, pounding in white hot need with its incessant rhythm, and this time he understood the words. Take the throne now! There is no time!


    As Moraithe gawked, sudden pain lanced through the back of his neck from icy fingers, shredding his skin. Throm¡¯tor¡¯s claws tore at him, forcing him to his feet. Another hand wrenched at his shoulder. He spun about to face Throm¡¯tor, whose blazing eyes flared with hatred.


    Tendrils of pain dug deep into him and Moraithe writhed in shrieking torment. Flames twirled about him blistering his raw skin. His muscles knotted and contorted as spidery arcs of blue lightning splintered through his flesh, relentless and unyielding. Deafening shrieks split his throat in unearthly pain. Thought, memory, identity all crumpled as Throm¡¯tor attacked his mind. Bracing his swimming head through the pain, his fingertips dug painfully into his scalp. Finally, he crumbled to the stone floor in a wrung-out heap as the last of his raw-throated cries echoed from the temple walls.


    Abrupt as lightning, a blinding flash of light burnt through the temple. With blinding intensity, it focused behind Throm''tor.


    He spun to face the figure who had appeared amid the endless light, which vanished as quickly as it had dawned. Moraithe fought to lift his head and blinked through the flash of light now burnt into his eyes, struggling to see through the washed-out hues. He has come. But even as the thought came to him he was unsure of who had come or why. There was something so familiar about the being who had arrived amid the light, a vague memory of speaking with him skittered across the surface of his thoughts.


    ¡°Elithir, my old friend,¡± Throm''tor''s sneer was anything but friendly. ¡°So it is you who has been meddling in my affairs. This is not your place, return to your own.¡±


    ¡°You have made it my place!¡± Elithir thundered. ¡°Do you think me blind enough to hide your true intentions from my sight? I see through your thoughts, I know your plans. I know you seek to make a puppet even of my mind.¡±


    ¡°You see my thoughts? Then you too dabble in the powers of the mind.¡± Throm¡¯tor foamed. ¡°No more, holy lectures¡ª¡±


    ¡°Seeing into a mind is very different from bewitching it.¡±


    ¡°But you have always controlled the minds of others,¡± Throm''tor laughed, ¡°with your tricks and persuasion.¡±


    ¡°You seek to blind their minds and bind their souls. You seek to rule over them. I teach them to rule themselves. I offer knowledge and power. Only when they know the truth shall they be free.¡±


    In that instant Elithir¡¯s eyes flickered to Moraithe to meet his gaze and suddenly words formed in his mind. Quickly, I cannot distract him for much longer. Moraithe scrambled desperately at the words. He had to do something, but what? With his mind scrambled as it was he could not remember.


    ¡°They cannot rule themselves,¡± Throm¡¯tor spat, ¡°you have proven that with your teeming worlds. Mine is a world of order, peace, and beauty. Your worlds are filled with chaos and destruction.¡±


    ¡°Resistance yields growth. But you don¡¯t want that. You keep them stunted.¡±


    As he stumbled about Moraithe''s eyes lighted upon the stiletto lying upon the floor. Should I finish it now? If only he could put the stiletto to Throm''tor¡¯s flesh. He scurried across the floor.


    Suddenly, Elithir¡¯s eyes found him once more as he fumbled for the stiletto. NO! The throne, you must get to the throne! He spun in desperation as the words hit with more force than he could believe.


    Drawn by the commotion behind him Throm''tor whipped about.


    In a swirl of white, silk robes Moraithe threw himself at the throne, over the man lying at his feet. Throm¡¯tor lashed out for him with his scathe lash, his tool of bewitching. Some unseen force caught the lash, turning it away. Throm¡¯tor spun about to face Elithir once more.


    Moraithe hit the throne and scrambled to turn and sit on it. He stared in astonishment as the figure at his feet climbed up the throne and brushed in beside him, the one he now remembered as Norgoth, his ancient friend.


    ¡°You made the throne to have power over even the Infinites now you shall taste of that power,¡± Elithir roared.


    In rage and hatred, Throm¡¯tor lashed out with a blast of power deep enough to shake the earth. But in that instant Elithir vanished in a blinding flash of light and was gone.


    Throm¡¯tor clenched his hand and the glyph embedded there began to spin and burn with an incandescent glow. That glyph, it must be a law stone, the power that created and maintained the very laws of nature for this world. Throm¡¯tor raised his hand to the sky and power burst forth sealing the world ominously.


    Moraithe had the sinking feeling that they were alone, completely cut off from the aid of Elithir or any other for that matter. Throm¡¯tor turned to them with a death glare and they shrunk into the throne, trembling.


    ¡°You think holding my throne will save you.¡± He pulled a crystal from his robes and inserted it into a staff. ¡°You are ten billion years too inexperienced to match me.¡± He pointed the staff at them, and the crystal exploded. Pure entropy rammed into his mind, shattering his thoughts, his memories. He clutched onto this moment as all the other memories fell away in the blast. When it ended he knew little more than who he was and what he was now doing.


    This was the throne of souls, imbued with unmatched power to control both mind and body, far greater power than that which now besieged them. In a fit of desperation, he clawed wildly at the power of the throne. But his friend Norgoth calmly filled himself with the power and threw up a shield to protect them. Effortlessly, the shield billowed forth across the land to guard all souls from Throm¡¯tor¡¯s power.


    All throughout the grand hall men and women awakened from their labors as from a nightmare. They remembered all they had suffered through the millennia, and they turned to Throm¡¯tor with a rage that could not be measured. For ten thousand years Throm''tor had controlled them, mind and body, with his scathe lash, like puppets dancing to his will.


    He had forced Norgoth to craft the throne and had caused them to sacrifice thousands of souls into it to imbue it with the power which it now held. Power that none could match. Power that could make even the Infinites dance upon his puppet strings forever. Moraithe¡¯s heart thrashed in pain for the souls lost to this throne. But he would use it to pull Throm''tor down with all his tyranny.


    Throm¡¯tor shivered with molten rage, shoulders tensing and hooked claws glinting hungrily from the soft pads of his fingertips.


    Behind the shield Moraithe followed his friend''s lead, only he fashioned his power into a lash even greater than Throm¡¯tor¡¯s.


    In rage Throm''tor shouted and the earth shuddered and quaked from the depths, it would respond to his command. In fear Moraithe struck, silencing him with a lash from the throne.


    Binding him, he considered what he could cause Throm¡¯tor to do. Perhaps make him destroy himself.


    Throm¡¯tor laughed. But why? Even bound he was dangerous, too dangerous. He had too many tricks and he understood this power more deeply than anyone. Throm¡¯tor was the master here, bound or not. He tried to ignore Throm¡¯tor¡¯s triumphant gaze. Throm''tor had lost. He should not look triumphant.


    Throm¡¯tor laughed once again. ¡°This glyph holds all the laws of this world, and it is entangled with my very soul. Only by breaking my soul could you stop me, and that would lead to the death of all. Surely you would not destroy the world just to save it from me?¡±


    Of course, Throm¡¯tor would have entangled the laws of nature in this place. How could he have been so blind? What was he to do? Already Throm¡¯tor was devising a plan, he could see it in his eyes. They had to figure something out before he did. Until they had a plan he was like a caged rage-rake, and they were locked in the cage with him.


    Oh, if only Saffrael were here, she was the wisest person he knew besides Elithir himself. He may have lost nearly all his memories, but he could not forget her.


    Using the throne his gaze pierced the walls to stare at those out on the fields of wind-raked hedge lilies, through forests of tall, majestic trees, and even through the earth to those beyond the mountains.


    He searched among the inhabitants of the world who seemed like children awakened from a nightmare. They fell to the earth trembling and weeping bitterly, pouring out tears for the suffering of endless lifetimes of wounds which they had felt but been unable to shed. The fits of tears consumed every soul, tears for the wasted years of pain, held inside. The pressure of tears uncried burst forth in a maelstrom. They let the tears flow desperately, cleansing them of what had been, as if without it they could never be whole again.


    Even upon the throne Moraithe and his companion felt the surge of overwhelming sorrow. The mourning for the lives these souls had been forced to live. Meaningless and empty lives, devoid of love and feeling. They despised what they had been forced to become, they despised it all.


    At last, he found her in the meadows nearby. He remembered how to call to her without a voice. ¡°Oh, Saffrael, I need you.¡±


    ¡°Then come walk with me in the meadow.¡±


    ¡°I cannot leave this place, though I yearn for it with all my soul.¡±


    ¡°Then I shall come to you.¡±


    ¡°Please hurry.¡±


    She broke into a desperate gait. Running until pain surged through her lungs, stabbed into her sides, and burnt through her limbs. Oh how he longed to run to meet her, but he was bound to the throne until Throm''tor had been brought to justice.


    As he awaited their reunion he turned back to Throm''tor, who remained bound by his lash but looked somehow more dangerous than ever. He must have a plan. But what was he waiting for? It was he who had taken Saffrael, who had denied him the sight of her sweet face or the sound of her silvery voice. He would be brought to justice for it, as he would for the suffering of this whole world.


    Moraithe began considering any possible way to bring Throm¡¯tor to justice as his gaze shifted about. Polishing rags discarded in heaps upon the floor, and golden platters, now spilled upon the stone in a spattering of finely seasoned and garnished courses, lay discarded by deliverance. The tears began to slow, a rumble of reunions filled the hall and the air rang with sudden laughter, some hesitating, others almost desperate.


    Outside the temple, children ran together playing, their lack of experience in games made up in eagerness. Girls gathered in knots chatting and giggling as naturally as a rose blooms in the sunlight. Others merely breathed slow, deliberate breaths; the air smelled somehow fresh and clean.


    Slowly, clouds gathered, the rolling churn of silver and gray blanketing the heavens, sprinkling rain as if its meager drizzle could wash away the pain of the earth itself, the pain of ten thousand years. Laughing and prancing men and women ran from the beautifully adorned bakeries, workshops, and night havens which dotted the land between mountains, forests, and vast, cascading waterscapes; out into the open where they skipped through the gathering rain. There they gathered under the dripping sky, opening their arms and raising their eyes toward the heavens exultantly.


    Running his fingers along the glassy arm of the throne Moraithe marveled at the detail hammered into the stone. The throne pulsed beneath his fingertips. He could feel the life beneath its surface.


    Without warning the glyph in Throm¡¯tor¡¯s hand flared as crippling pain exploded like thorny vines, knotting up and tearing wildly deep inside of him. And he realized too late what Throm¡¯tor had been waiting for, for his thoughts to drift as they had and his grip to weaken. Shrieking, he fell writhing from the throne. Horror flooded through his ringing senses.


    Throm¡¯tor suddenly lashed out with his scathe lash just as Norgoth found himself unprotected. In shock and surprise, Norgoth threw out a lash of power from the throne. Wielding it fitfully, desperately.


    Throm¡¯tor countered the power calmly and deftly. Then unexpectedly their lashes locked, tangling themselves together. Both reared back, jerking at their powers. But Norgoth, though unskilled, had the power of the throne, with a wrenching tug he rooted the scathe lash from Throm¡¯tor¡¯s very soul, scarring his mind in a way that could never be repaired or healed.


    Throm¡¯tor screamed with inhuman pain. Such a soul wound was permanent, he would never be able to control another soul with the scathe lash, not even in death. But he was still more powerful and dangerous than anyone cared to imagine.


    As Throm¡¯tor twisted about in pain, Moraithe¡¯s terror released him. And with all the strength he could muster, he groaned to his knees and clawed his way back into the throne.


    There was no longer any need to shield them from his scathe lash now that it had been rooted out. As Throm¡¯tor recovered from his loss, Moraithe gripped him in the power of the throne. He would feel all of what he had done. He would suffer the full weight of justice.


    Moraithe forced him to turn his own fear and hate upon himself. His glyph flared once more. Throm''tor writhed and contorted, shrieking like death itself, and as he trembled in pain, the earth began to shake as if it shared his pain. Finally, the storm ceased. Trembling, he crawled back to his knees, tears streaming down his rage-stricken face.


    Then, startlingly, his mask of fury split into a wicked smile. ¡°Yes. Feel the power, the absolute power. Control me, make me your slave, your puppet.¡± He spat blood at their feet as he paused. ¡°Already you are beginning to feel the power consume you. Yield to it, let it fill you with lust for more. Join me and we shall rule all. We shall make thrones and take all souls that all shall bow to us forever!¡± he roared in exultation.


    In sickened disgust, Moraithe pushed away the power, unable to bear such a thought. ¡°You seek to make us as yourself, you maggot. You cannot worm your way into our hearts this time.¡±


    Throm¡¯tor grimaced in anger. The spot of blood he¡¯d spit on the floor bulged and shivered, swelling and crackling until it formed into a great beast with many rows of sharp teeth. The beast roared and lunged to attack them. Together Moraithe and Norgoth reached out for its will only to find that it had no will at all. Throm¡¯tor, it was controlled by Throm¡¯tor. As the jaws closed about Norgoth, Moraithe snatched Throm¡¯tor¡¯s mind, stopping the beast.


    Then he turned the beast back upon its master. Let Throm''tor feel those teeth tear into him, let him feel the sting of justice.


    But as the beast turned, Norgoth snatched his arm urgently. ¡°No, wait.¡± The beast paused. Releasing his arm, Norgoth turned to Throm''tor. ¡°What is this beast?¡±


    Throm¡¯tor remained silent.


    ¡°What is it!¡± Norgoth roared as he gripped the throne about him and forced the truth from his lips.


    ¡°It is a shield. Once it consumes me even you could not reach my mind to control it. Surely you did not think me fool enough not to learn to protect myself from my own power?¡±


    ¡°Enough! Destroy it,¡± Norgoth commanded.


    Like vapors of mist, the beast evaporated and blew away.


    Throm''tor cared for nothing but himself. He would only continue scheming until he saw all people suffer with every pain he could inflict forever. Who knew what cunning device Throm¡¯tor would employ to regain the throne next? His scarred mind could still use the throne even if his scathe lash was gone forever. He had too many tricks, and they had nearly fallen already. Every moment they faced him they risked it all. He had to be destroyed, though he knew the sacrifice it would require and his heart strained at the weight of it.


    Just then, Saffrael burst into the room. Their eyes locked, speaking volumes. Her soft lips parted to speak.


    Throm¡¯tor lashed out at her with a bolt so bright that it tore into Saffrael¡¯s heart, bursting her chest, gushing sizzling blood before she toppled into a lifeless heap.


    Moraithe¡¯s heart screamed within him, a tortured, shrieking agony. His chest seemed to burst in time with hers, a throbbing of unbearable pain deep within the blistering char that was his broken heart. With all his strength, he clung to the throne to keep himself from falling to the earth and writhing along with the bystanders who¡¯d been caught in the blast.


    With burning tears streaming down his face, he locked the power so tightly upon Throm¡¯tor that he could neither move, nor breathe, nor even think without Moraithe allowing it. Then he prepared himself to give the command that would be his last.


    Smearing the tears across his cheeks, he looked around himself into the faces of those he had just saved, silently dooming them. They were his friends, his brothers and sisters. There was no way they could know the weight he felt. The burden of all their souls. The crushing weight of the decision overwhelmed him to the point of dragging him under. This was bigger than his life. It was more than all of their lives. But how could he bear to witness their deaths after Saffrael? How could he stand to slay them, even to save them?


    He could feel Norgoth beside him, his thoughts, his pain, as deep as his own. They knew that Throm¡¯tor must never get a hold of that power, no one must.


    One thought was all that kept him from slipping away in the pain of it all. One promise was all that could redeem him. I swear I will repay your deaths. Perhaps the thought had come from Norgoth, though he could not be certain with their minds linked so tightly as they were. He spoke the words softly, a whisper in the minds of all who cared to listen. I will see you reborn. I will see you to glory. I will guard you from tyranny forever more, I swear it!


    Then with a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes, he knew what he must do. Pushing past the lump he forced the words out, and together they gave the command that would doom them all.


    Their anguished voices rose as one. ¡°Throm¡¯tor, we mete justice upon you this day. Break the glyph and yield it to us.¡±


    He snarled and gnashed his teeth in response to the command.


    Moraithe¡¯s will tightened around him like an iron vise. He had bound so many before, crushed their thoughts, reshaped their very identities¡­ and now it was happening to him.


    ¡°No,¡± he snarled, struggling against the force pressing him to his knees. ¡°I am the master here! I¡ª¡±


    His body obeyed a will that was not his own. Moraithe forced him to reach for the glyph, to rip it from his own flesh, to destroy himself. A fate he had inflicted on countless others.


    As his fingers moved against his own will, his laughter turned to a rasping breath of disbelief. ¡°So ¡­ this is what it feels like ¡­¡±


    Fighting every motion his claws flared from his fingertips, and he tore into his right hand digging out the glyph. Rending bloodless flesh, his hand was shredded into a mess of pale filleted gore. He tore deeply with the snapping of hollow veins, ligament, and sinew, baring bones, splintering them, and tearing them away at the joints to get to the glyph¡ªred with an incandescent glow like blazing iron from the forge. With harsh curses, he tore the glyph free.


    ¡°Break it,¡± they commanded as one.


    Disregarding his useless carnage of a hand Throm¡¯tor clenched the glyph in his snarling teeth, and prying with his good hand snapped it in half.


    As the glyph cracked, Throm¡¯tor¡¯s sneer faltered. His fingers trembled, clutching at the broken fragments as if he could piece them back together.


    ¡°No¡­ I control this world! I built it!¡± His voice, once thundering with power, cracked into something small¡ªsomething almost human.


    But the laws of reality no longer bent for him. The ground beneath him swallowed his words, and as his body dissolved into nothing, his final, ragged whisper carried on the wind.


    ¡°Nothing can stop me¡­¡± And he was utterly destroyed, body and soul.


    Suddenly the earth reeled and shook in a violent wave of stone and earth, heaving as in the throes of death, tossing them all like sailors in a storm. They braced themselves against the quake, though many stumbled to the floor. Golden platters rolled and clattered. Some of those nearby slipped upon the food spattered and smeared upon the floor, falling splayed out upon the stone.


    With the last of their strength, Moraithe and Norgoth turned the throne upon itself and tore it asunder. Thousands of raving souls screamed forth, blazing with a rage that burnt them to the bone, incinerating their flesh with an anger this world had never before known. A rage even Elithir would scarcely have stood against.


    The earth shuddered more violently, rolling in waves, stone heaved and splintered, the world over. The temple trembled, but its walls held strong. Across the sweeping landscape, writhing bodies tumbled through the air howling in pain as shafts of splintering stone burst through the ground and tossed them like worn-out polishing rags.


    The temple lurched to the side. With charred limbs, Moraithe tumbled from the broken throne, flailing for purchase on something, anything. His hand caught Norgoth¡¯s robes. Norgoth shouted as his arm slipped from the sleeve and he gripped the throne, wrapping the stone form of the enchantress about the waist, with his other arm he reached for Moraithe. But a body tumbled past knocking Moraithe away.


    He slid into the throng of flailing bodies. A cloud of severed souls from the throne surged toward him, blazing with a rage that blackened his flesh, curling his limbs into uselessness.


    The dead and dying littered the temple floor. The severed souls snatched upon those bodies, fueling and animating them with their anger.


    Lesions blanched from his skin and his blood streaked the stone as he struggled for purchase on the ever-shifting scape. He slid past Saffrael¡¯s limp and mangled form and he grasped her to him with all of his strength.


    With a tremendous blast, the world cracked and shattered, laying bare the incandescent glow of molten earth-blood between the fissures.


    The living dead swarmed him with their anger. Blasting and clawing in marrow-deep lesions, bursting his skin. A cacophony of tortured screams rent the now hazy air, as molten rock blazed across the land. It was the last gasp of the world, spewing the last of its glowing, red lifeblood in a final blinding flash.


    Moraithe gasped as he recalled his death. His breath hitched as his vision swam, the blinding chaos of memory giving way to the dim, shifting light of the present. His hands trembled, still feeling the phantom weight of Saffrael¡¯s lifeless body in his arms. The ground beneath him was level¡ªbut for a moment, he had been falling.


    He exhaled shakily, forcing his hands to unclench. ¡°That ¡­ that was real.¡±


    Elithir¡¯s voice cut through the haze. ¡°You remember now.¡±


    ¡°All those souls Throm¡¯tor had trapped were unleashed.¡±


    Elithir nodded. ¡°After eons of enslavement and torture. They seek only to inflict on men what they have suffered.¡±


    ¡°And so the war began.¡± He looked up at Elithir. ¡°That¡¯s why I have to stop the Severed. I released them. It¡¯s my fault. So I¡¯ll become strong enough to stop them.¡± He struggled to hold back tears. ¡°But I am so weak. I nearly died, but gratitude healed me, and I found Norgoth and Saffrael¡¯s bodies and healed them with it.¡±


    Elithir patted his back, gently. ¡°There is no growth without resistance.¡±


    ¡°You said that before.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s as true now as ever.¡± He lifted a hand toward Moraithe as if feeling the heat coming off of him. ¡°Would you care to know?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Your self-assurance has risen considerably. You measured fourteen before. Now it is seven thousand four hundred and thirty-two. You blew right past soldier and captain ranks and now measure well into the rank of master.¡±


    Moraithe turned to Elithir, stunned. ¡°Where can I get more of those memories?¡±


    ¡°I suspect fragments of them were scattered here upon the ruin of Throm¡¯tor¡¯s world.¡±


    Moraithe looked across the tumultuous land. ¡°Yet even with your power, you can¡¯t find them?¡±


    ¡°They are your memories. They do not resonate with me. But if you train here, perhaps you will stumble across some fragments.¡±


    The land shuddered again, the earth beneath them groaning as if to prove a point. Moraithe stood tall, trembling but resolute, the weight of Elithir¡¯s words grounding him. ¡°I will find a way. This is my war to end. I¡¯ll get strong enough to shatter them all, as I shattered Throm¡¯tor.¡±


    ¡°A bold dream. But will you have time?¡± The land beneath their feet began to sputter, but Elithir brushed it aside with a wave of his hand. ¡°While you grow they are enacting their own plans, some of which could spell the end of all you or I know. Some could even set us all back to little more than we were in the beginning, minds who know of nothing but ourselves.¡±


    ¡°If I gave you all my gratitude you could stand against them. You could break them.¡±


    ¡°My path takes me another way. We all get to choose. Else what is the purpose of our core selves, our minds?¡±


    ¡°Then what is your plan?¡±


    Elithir laughed. ¡°Oh, how refreshing. I have told no one yet, but I intend to entangle myself across all time, unto the end of eternity.¡±


    ¡°And you call me bold.¡±


    Elithir chuckled. ¡°It would be nice to see your progress in action. Why don¡¯t you show us the power of your entanglements now.¡±


    Moraithe nocked an arrow. But as he did he realized that the runic key he¡¯d entangled to a bolder had now expanded far beyond the bolder, to encompass a considerable swath of land. He drew the bow and fired. His timing with the entanglement was perfect. The arrow blasted into the side of a nearby mountain causing it to topple and spew forth a spout of lava.


    ¡°Woah! Did you see that?¡±


    Elithir only chortled and clapped him on the back.

 As Chaos Reigns

    <blockquote>[First Era ¨C Year 4 of the Divinity War; The Faint, region undefined]</blockquote>


    Moraithe''s boots hit the ground with a rhythmic thud as he sprinted across the unstable landscape, each step sending vibrations through the cracked earth beneath him. This world, known as The Faint for its dim burnt yellow sun, was alive and chaotic. It was a volatile storm of mountains rising and sinking, valleys collapsing into sinkholes as the mithsyrium caused the world to boil and churn. He couldn''t have run at a third of this speed before reaching the rank of master.


    Shore and Break, arcshell golems he''d brought to this world and trained, ran alongside him. They¡¯d grown thigh high now, leathery, scurrying creatures with barbed tails and flat shells upon their backs. Shore dove into the earth becoming one with it like the mithsyrium that ran in her blood. Break jumped into a vein of mithsyrium, and he began lapping it up, greedily.


    With a sharp intake of breath, Moraithe drew an arrow from his quiver, his fingers steady despite the pounding of his feet. The arrow tip shimmered in the dim light, its steel vibrating with potential. He sighted down the arrow as he prepared his mind for the entanglement.


    A mountain jutted into his path, but he had a runic key entangled with the mass of his own mountain. He loosed. It flew true, streaking across the turbulent air like a bolt of lightning. He focused on the arrow''s tip, envisioning the force of a mountain''s mass binding to it precisely as it struck, merging with the arrow''s as if they were one. With a final, desperate mental lunge, he snapped the entanglement into place. The arrow shuddered, its weight becoming an immutable force¡ªimmense and terrifying¡ªboring through the mountain.


    When the dust cleared, a tunnel gaped open straight through the rock.


    His hand began to shake, a cold sweat beading on his forehead as the mental strain grew from another entanglement. After so many miles of this, the entropy of each entanglement surged as his mind fought to contain the mounting chaos. He breathed, working through the running meditation to restore order to his mind. For only the will of a living soul could reverse entropy.


    Steady ¡­ just a little more ¡­


    The ground trembled beneath him as the land groaned and shifted. The mithsyrium was relentless. It fed and pushed, rearranging the earth with terrifying speed, but now, at least, the path was clear. Shore emerged from the ground and ran forward, testing the tunnel alongside Break. Moraithe followed close behind.


    They moved quickly. Moraithe''s breath labored as he raced forward, emerging to search for another obstacle. The world seemed to tremble and twist, as if in response to his actions, but he ignored it. There was no time to slow down. Every moment mattered.


    Suddenly the ground began to buckle beneath him. It was a sinkhole. He whistled. Break and Shore dove into the earth only to come up one under each foot as the earth collapsed. He leaped from the hard carapace of one back to the other, spanning the gap of collapsing earth. He rolled, and his pets emerged from the earth alongside him.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± He patted them each in turn, then continued his run.


    He''d managed to clear some of the chaos in his mind by the time he reached the next obstacle¡ªa towering cliff, cracked and veined with swirling veins of mithsyrium, its presence causing the air to feel thick and heavy.


    Without hesitation, he reached into his pouch and drew forth a rock. This would hold his salt entanglement. It was some time into his training on this world that he had finally discovered it. Salt resisted mithsyrium. It could push away the strange substance. And this rock was entangled with a runic key that he''d placed on an entire mound of salt he''d discovered. He hefted the rock in his palm, then with a practiced throw he flung the rock at the veins of mithsyrium.


    Moraithe''s focus sharpened as he cast the entanglement. His mind flickered with the feedback from the earth¡ªthe pulsing mithsyrium trying to resist, as though the earth itself were alive, angry, and pushing back at his every effort.


    He struggled to maintain his focus, feeling his mind strain under the weight of the entanglement¡ªthe entropy. He had to be careful¡ªhe couldn''t let the chaos overwhelm him. The salt entanglement wrung the mithsyrium from the cliff, making it sure and stable while the ground below shot up under the splash of the mithsyrium.


    Break clicked in pain as he stepped on the salt-entangled earth. ¡°Careful¡± Moraithe called, and Shore dove aside to avoid it.


    Pillars of earth sprang up in the wake of the mithsyrium. He flung himself over the edge of the cliff, deftly leaping from one jutting spike of earth to another until he reached level ground.


    Methodically, he carved a safe path through the chaos both physically and mentally.


    His body shuddered as every strand of entropy pushed his limits, twisted his perception. And he knew he was growing stronger. But he held on, his eyes and senses scanning for the thing he was truly seeking¡ªfragments of his lost memories.


    The land before him boiled with an unsettling ferocity. This time he would freeze the path forward. He''d set the runic key for this entanglement in the cold depths of space. He loosed another arrow, and as it struck he entangled the earth, freezing it in place, forcing it to hold firm, and it held.


    Moraithe let out a shaky breath, relieved for a moment, despite the increased entropy. He had cleared the path. For now.


    Each entanglement took more from him, but it also pushed his limits, made him stronger.


    Elithir had told him that since he was merely regaining power he had lost, his training would help him progress much faster than normal. Already in one year, he''d gained nearly two hundred self-assurance, vastly exceeding his expectations. But still no fragments of his memories.


    Moraithe''s senses flared as he moved across the cracked landscape. The tug in his chest¡ªfaint, but unmistakable¡ªgrew stronger with each step. It wasn''t just the earth that called to him now. Something beneath it, buried in the chaos of mithsyrium, resonated with his blood. A fragment of his past teased across his senses. It would not hold still, the mithsyrium pushing and pulling with its relentless hunger, hiding what he sought beneath layers of ever-changing rock.


    He stopped and whistled to Break and Shore, standing at the edge of a chasm that opened up near his feet. The ground ahead was dark with the deep presence of mithsyrium¡ªa thick, blackened mass, swirling and pulsing like the belly of some great beast. He could feel its power tugging at the ground around him, threatening to swallow him whole if he stepped too close.


    The pulse in his chest was growing stronger. He was close. He could feel it.


    With a sharp intake, Moraithe blew out a deep, steadying breath. He would have to push back the mithsyrium¡ªhold it at bay long enough to reach whatever lay beneath. He could feel the pull of his memory, a faint whisper now, beneath all the chaos.


    He reached into his pouch and withdrew another stone he''d prepared for a salt entanglement. It glinted faintly in the dim light. He needed to stabilize this chunk of earth, so the memory wouldn''t slip away. Hopefully, that would create an island within a circle of mithsyrium which would allow the piece holding his memory to move freely.


    Moraithe dropped the stone and whistled. Shore leaped on the stone, snatching it in her jaws and boring it down into the earth. He waited for her to emerge before he focused, sharpening his will to cast the entanglement. The entropy it brought pressed against him like a weight, but he fought to hold it back, keeping it from flooding his mind.


    Focus, focus ¡­


    The land groaned beneath him as the salt began to resonate. He could feel it¡ªlike a low hum, a connection that reached deep into the earth itself. The mithsyrium resisted, but the salt pushed back, flexing against the pressure.


    Moraithe gritted his teeth, his mind fighting against the rising entropy. Chaos. It was all slipping through his thoughts as he held the entanglement together, anchoring the salt''s power to the rock, wringing out the mithsyrium. Slowly, the land began to shift¡ªhe whistled for Shore and Break, pouring thoughts into their mind, asking them to dive under the rock and push it up through the ground.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    They dove in.


    Slowly, carefully, it began to rise. The earth trembled as though holding its breath.


    He clenched the entanglement, feeling the entropy in his mind tighten. The ground shuddered, and with an audible crack, a piece of land, heavy with rock and trapped earth, lifted slowly from the morass. It groaned in protest, its surface straining under the shifting pressure. Moraithe called Break and Shore out, then with a great surge he expanded the entanglement, pushing the mithsyrium far back into the earth.


    Relaxing, he let it go. Under the pressure the ground cracked open, revealing layers of ancient stone and debris¡ªlayers that had been long untouched.


    With a deep, labored breath, he knelt, wiping sweat from his brow. His mind was in chaos, but the land was stable.


    Moraithe drew a sword from his belt, then prepared one more entanglement. Holding the blade high overhead, he slammed it into the earth, entangling the weight of a mountain. Chips of stone and dust exploded as it cracked open.


    He wedged himself into the crack and found himself close, so close to a fragment of his past. He lifted the blade once more and plunged it into the exposed rock, chiseling away at the layers of stone. His hands worked quickly but carefully, the blade scraping against the hard surface. As he dug deeper, he felt it¡ªthe pulse again, more distinct now, thrumming through his fingertips as he scraped the earth away.


    Finally, his hand hit something solid, something different. He paused, heart racing, as he brushed away the last of the grit. There, nestled in the rocky layers, was a small fragment¡ªshimmering faintly with an inner light. He felt the connection, the energy that tied it to him.


    His breath caught in his throat as he held it in his palm, his fingers trembling. It was a shard of memory, a fragment that had been lost deep beneath the surface. As he held it, a flood of sensations crashed into him¡ªfamiliar sights, sounds, and a face he couldn''t quite name¡ªbut the emotions tied to it were undeniable. A warmth, a sense of safety, a moment of peace in a life long forgotten.


    He held out the fragment to Shore and Break, letting them sniff it, resonate with its aura, then he entangled that memory into them, sealing it so they would always remember, so they would know what to look for. Then he sent them off to hunt through the earth for more of them. Hopefully, being able to plum the depths of this world, dive into it, they would be able to delve more thoroughly than he ever had.


    Moraithe held the memory fragment close, and began to consume its essence. His heart ached as he felt a tear slip from his eye, his body shaking from the weight of the memories flooding back. He wasn''t sure what he had found, but he knew it was a piece of the life he had once lived.


    He saw his mother, her warmth, living there upon a star, amid love so bright that it shone out to fill the universe with light. He had lived upon the First Star. It had once been his home. And he longed to reach it once more. That moment he vowed to himself he would work until he stood upon the First Star and inscribed a runic key upon it, to tie him to that place forevermore.


    Now, he looked within himself and saw nearly a thousand more self-assurance shining from his aura. His self-assurance now measured eight thousand five hundred and twenty-four. He was nearing the knight rank. Oh, how glorious that would be.


    * * *


    <blockquote>[First Era ¨C Year 5 of the Divinity War; Lenar, training camp]</blockquote>


    After so long beneath the dim burnt yellow sun of The Faint, it was strange, almost unsettling to stand in the light of a sun so bright. This was a true star, unlike the dim counterfeit Throm¡¯tor had made for his world, his was a counterfeit that unlike a true star was slowly burning out. True stars reveal greater truth, under it¡¯s light his knowledge and self-assurance would surely grow faster. It hung low over the training grounds, its golden light shimmering off the rows of soldiers practicing their formations. The distant hum of bowstrings and the clash of practice blades filled the air.


    Elithir walked with purposeful strides, his tall, commanding presence making the surrounding soldiers instinctively straighten their postures. Beside him, Moraithe followed, his youthful face a mix of determination and curiosity.


    Elithir''s gaze swept over the grounds, taking in the precision of the drills. ¡°You''ve seen battle before, Moraithe,¡± he began, his voice rich with authority, ¡°but it is different among the ranks of an army. I want you to see how things are done. Get a taste of pitched battle.¡±


    Moraithe nodded thoughtfully, watching a group of soldiers break into an intense sparring match. The thuds of entangled weapons striking bright shields reverberated through the air. ¡°It will be a good opportunity to see how my training has progressed.¡±


    There was pride in Elithir''s expression, but also a cool, calculating edge. ¡°Precisely. But I don''t intend to leave you here for long. This is just a taste.¡±


    Moraithe smirked. ¡°What will it be next, training in a volcano?¡±


    Elithir chuckled, the sound deep, almost regal. ¡°I have something quite a bit more cerebral in mind.¡±


    Moraithe raised an eyebrow, intrigued. ¡°Really?¡±


    The Infinite''s eyes gleamed with something akin to a quiet excitement. ¡°I''ve been considering a new sort of unit¡ªespionage. But it will be a unique force, an elite unit with one particular advantage. I want you to each craft yourselves a second body.¡±


    Moraithe stopped walking, blinking as he processed the words. ¡°A second body?¡± He looked his father over, searching for any sign that he was joking. But Elithir''s expression remained as still and commanding as ever.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Elithir replied, his tone leaving no room for uncertainty.


    Moraithe''s mind raced as he processed the implications. ¡°And just how do you expect me to control two bodies?¡± His voice had a faint edge of disbelief.


    Elithir slowed his pace, allowing Moraithe to catch up. ¡°Not at the same time, of course, but while you are sleeping in one body you control the other. You alternate. Imagine the advantages.¡±


    Moraithe paused, looking out over the vast training grounds, his thoughts drifting. ¡°Two appearances could be useful for espionage, I suppose.¡±


    Elithir gave a small nod, his tone low but filled with conviction. ¡°Not only that, but it opens possibilities for communication, being in two places at once. And if you are caught or killed in one body, the other will remain untouched. You won''t be lost, nor will anything you''ve uncovered.¡±


    The idea took root in Moraithe''s mind, growing steadily as he mulled over the potential. ¡°It''s ¡­ clever. I''ll admit, the thought of having a backup is appealing.¡± He glanced toward the horizon as if envisioning the possibilities. ¡°Have you asked Saffrael and Norgoth? It would be nice if we could work together on this.¡±


    Elithir''s lips curled into a rare smile. ¡°An excellent suggestion. I''ve come up with a name for it¡ªthose who live two lives¡ªDrackmoor.¡±


    Moraithe''s eyes glinted with a mix of excitement and challenge. ¡°Drackmoor ¡­ I''ll look forward to it.¡± He turned his gaze back to the soldiers training, then exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing. ¡°But, I suppose I''ll have to focus on this for now.¡±


    Elithir''s smile widened slightly. ¡°Yes. For now, let us see how well you fare with the army. And remember, the battlefield is only the beginning of what you will face. The real test is yet to come.¡±


    As they walked back toward the center of the training grounds, the hum of bowstrings and the clang of metal filled the air, but in Moraithe''s mind, something else was stirring¡ªa new path, a new challenge, and a new destiny in the making.


    They stopped before a solid-looking man in a red cloak. ¡°This will be your commander.¡± Elithir turned toward the man. ¡°Welthorne, here is your new recruit. Use him well.¡±


    Elithir began to turn away. But Moraithe stopped him. ¡°By the way, how much gratitude do you recommend for battle?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know you have enough.¡±


    Moraithe chuckled. ¡°I mean for them.¡±


    ¡°Two thousand is the traditional recommendation.¡± Elithir''s brow furrowed. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°I just want to understand my brothers in arms.¡±


    Elithir clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Very good. Consider what you want your new body to look like while I am gone.¡±


    Moraithe nodded, and with a wink, Elithir vanished.


    He stood at the edge of the camp, heart pounding in his chest. Then he followed the commander to join his unit.


    He''d thought little of it, until now, standing before his comrades. They were preparing for their next campaign, and the weight of their potential struggle hung heavy in the air.


    Moraithe stepped forward. His fellow soldiers, tired and worn, exchanged glances. They didn''t know what to expect from him¡ªa fresh recruit from who knew where.


    After a few exercises, they were released. And Moraithe began to mingle with his brothers in arms. He introduced himself and learned their names. Then, to each he extended his hand, a shimmer of silver light flowed from his chest, pooling in the air, a soft glow illuminating each face. He gave them a gift of gratitude. There in his hand, it felt like warmth, like a comforting embrace, but more¡ªinfinitely more. ¡°To protect you in battle,¡± was all he said.


    The soldiers'' eyes widened as the sensation surged into their very bones, like a second skin of protection.


    One by one, he approached each soldier offering them a tiny fraction of his infinite wealth. Their gratitude toward him radiated in waves, mingling with his own, replenishing the endless well he held inside. They walked away, lighter, more certain, their heads raised high, almost glowing with the ethereal power of his gift.


    He didn''t stop at his own unit. As the days passed, he slowly worked his way through the army. How could he let anyone fall if he could so easily protect them?


    At first, everything seemed perfect. The army was prepared, their protection strong. But as the days wore on, Moraithe began to notice the murmurs¡ªsoft at first, growing louder.


    ¡°Did you hear? Gratitude''s being handed out like it''s nothing. Prices are rising in the market.¡±


    ¡°I saw a merchant this morning¡ªhe nearly doubled the cost of armor! Said there was too much gratitude going around.¡±


    Moraithe''s heart sank. He had never intended for his gift to be used like this, as money, he''d only wanted to protect them.


    He wandered to the market, where voices were growing more heated. Merchants haggled, their eyes glinting with sharp calculation. The prices of food, armor, and supplies had skyrocketed. He overheard one grizzled vendor laughing as he struck a deal, ¡°The more gratitude there is, the more we can charge.¡±


    Soldiers were growing angry as the merchant''s greed grew.


    Moraithe stood frozen, the weight of his mistake settling on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. His gift, once pure, had been tainted by greed. His heart burned with shame.


    Moraithe cursed at himself. ¡°I can''t let gratitude become a weapon.¡±


    And so, he walked away, knowing that he had much to learn¡ªabout generosity, about his responsibility, and the proper use of power.

 Drackmoor Rise

    <blockquote>[First Era ¨C Year 6 of the Divinity War; Hopron, secret laboratory]</blockquote>


    <blockquote>[Other body ¨C Deep Space, aboard a Severed vessel]</blockquote>


    Nearly a year later Moraithe sat quietly on the edge of Saffrael''s bed, watching over her sleeping body, or at least one of them. His gaze fixed on the map of this laboratory where they researched new weapons for the war. The soft hum of strange entanglements echoed down the corridors. The faint glow of light globes barely traced the growing tension in his heart. He felt Saffrael''s presence¡ªboth comforting and distant¡ªher consciousness, a universe away, traversing the grand library of Sidren while he was here, trying to extract a different kind of truth.


    He blinked, shifting focus back to the task at hand. The map was clear, showing the section of the facility where the new crystals were being developed. In Moraithe''s current body, he was acting the part of a researcher sent by a powerful lord, just another cog in the massive military machine, asking just enough questions to avoid suspicion.


    He and Saffrael had been inserted here as spies, part of the network of drackmoor agents spread across the galaxies, each partnered with another. It allowed them to create an information chain of sorts, passing news and knowledge from one to another, body to body, partner to partner. Their shared understanding aided to synchronize their efforts, making them far more effective than any lone operative.


    Saffrael awoke and sat up, rubbing her eyes. ¡°I wish I could have spent more time there.¡±


    Moraithe looked up from the map. ¡°Learning important things?¡±


    ¡°Mostly, this body is just tired. Too many brief rests, not enough actual sleep.¡±


    ¡°Did you find any information about it?¡± There was something unsettling in the air.


    ¡°It''s not easy sneaking into the command researcher''s study. Seems like they''re pushing the new crystals into production faster than expected,¡± Saffrael''s voice cut through his thoughts, a whispering hum in his mind. ¡°I''ve just overheard some senior officers discussing it¡ªthere''s disagreement about its safety. Not everyone trusts the entropy crystals. Some generals think the cost of storing entropy in them will be too high.¡±


    ¡°The general''s concerns could be valid. The power to remove entropy from the mind of a person¡ªwhat if it falls into enemy hands? That would be dangerous. Yet if the crystals work as expected, it could change the war.¡± Moraithe''s lips tightened. ¡°Is there any indication of our mole?¡±


    ¡°Not yet, but I''ll dig deeper.¡± Saffrael rubbed her temples. ¡°Something feels off. One of the researchers may be playing both sides, and I''m getting the sense they''re more than just a pawn.¡±


    He shook his head, trying to refocus. Too many threads. Too many risks.


    Now it was Moraithe''s turn to lay on the bed, while Saffrael watched over him.


    Switching from one body to the next was never easy, and it wasn''t just the physical disorientation. It was the mental shift that shook him, the sudden flood of different sensations, the disconnect between two places¡ªtwo versions of himself, switching goals and personalities to fit the mission.


    He closed his eyes, and in the blink of an eye, he was no longer in the research laboratory, but underwater in a dimly lit chamber aboard a Severed vessel, breathing through a snogbreather he''d attached to his face. Its tentacles stuck to his face with dozens of suckers firmly attaching the creature to his skin as it pulsated, sucking in water and filtering out air for him to breathe.


    These bubble vessels always felt so small and crowded. It wasn''t exactly small, composed of tens of thousands of chambers, enough to fit an entire Severed army. But it didn''t even compare with a world, or even a small moon. Perhaps it was more that he felt trapped here¡ªsurrounded by the Severed and those who had allied themselves with them¡ªwith nowhere to run, only the bleak void of space outside the translucent walls of the bubble. At least he wasn''t completely alone, not with Norgoth to keep him company.


    To be inside such a strange slimy, water-filled plant floating through space was nerve-wracking, but to do it while breathing underwater was so much worse. He understood that the giant plants couldn''t contain air, the pressure differential would cause them to burst. Instead, they were filled with water, which also allowed those inside to swim around, rather than aimlessly drifting as things did in space.


    Moraithe and Norgoth floated at the edge of the council room. The shadows of his pretended allies flickered through the dim bioluminescent glow. The Severed leaders, their bodies like twisted patches of darkness and death sewn together with cursed threads, studied him with cold, hollow eyes. Their voices reverberated in the air, ancient and chilling.


    One of the Severed swam forward, a towering figure with a body made of flesh and metal, his face a patchwork of twisted, decayed human features. Even through the strange distortion of the water, his voice was grating, as though every word had been shaved from metal. ¡°The time has come to test your loyalty,¡± he said, his hollow gaze narrowing. ¡°You have been useful, but we need to know where your true loyalties lie.¡±


    The second Severed leader, a woman whose translucent skin shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly glow, spoke next. Her eyes burned with an unnatural light. ¡°A village on the edge of Orsis,¡± she said, her voice like the hiss of a serpent. ¡°We will see how far you''re willing to go. Go there, and eliminate every soul. Show us your resolve. Only then will we know you are truly one of us.¡±


    Moraithe''s breath caught in his chest. Innocents!? The thought of killing the innocent just to prove their loyalty sent a chill down his spine. His body stiffened, but he knew there was no turning back now. The Severed''s gaze was upon him. He had to act, but he would not¡ªcould not¡ªfollow their orders as they expected. He would find a way to save them.


    Here in this place, where sound reverberated to the very edge of the bubble, it was impossible to communicate with Norgoth any secrets whatsoever. Rather they''d been forced to use the chain of drackmoor to relay messages from partner to partner, body to body, the entire way around the chain until they came back around to one another in their other bodies. Only then could they avoid suspicion under such conditions as these.


    As the Severed leaders withdrew to discuss their next move, Moraithe knew he had to make his way back to his sleeping cell. It helped that people slept at all hours in these strange conditions. But he needed to find a safe place to sleep and return to Saffrael. When he arrived at his chamber, he leaned against the wall and felt a shift¡ªa jolt¡ªas his mind flickered, the familiar sensation of switching between his bodies.


    Within moments, he was sitting up beside Saffrael in their quiet room, down the corridor of the research facility, a place that hummed with the secrets of war. He sucked in a deep lungful of air, finally able to truly breathe once more. But the heavy weight of the task he''d been given lingered in his chest.


    Saffrael looked at him, sensing his tension. ¡°What did they want?¡±


    Moraithe''s jaw clenched. ¡°They want us to kill ¡­ innocents. A village on the edge of Orsis. They want to see if we will obey without hesitation. If we do, they will trust us. But I won''t do it, Saffrael. I refuse.¡±


    Her eyes softened, understanding flashing across her face. ¡°Then we need to do something about it. You have a plan?¡±


    He nodded, his gaze distant as he thought through the details. ¡°I do. But it requires all of us¡ªyour revenescent and my entanglement. And I''ll need to get a message down the chain to Norgoth.¡±


    Saffrael tilted her head. ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°We''ll fire arrows,¡± Moraithe said, taking a deep breath. ¡°Each one will be entangled with your revenescent, pulling the innocents inside. They''ll vanish without a trace. A second entanglement will leave behind a crater where they stood, to make it seem like we followed through on our orders.¡±


    Saffrael''s brow furrowed as she processed the plan. ¡°You''ll make them disappear into my revenescent? All of them?¡±


    Moraithe nodded, the weight of his words heavy on his tongue. ¡°Yes. They will be safe. No harm will come to them.¡±


    Saffrael momentarily hesitated, her mind whirling as she weighed the risks. ¡°And the Severed won''t know?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Moraithe said firmly. ¡°They''ll see the craters, the devastation. They''ll think we did what they asked. But we will have saved every one of them. Norgoth needs to know the plan. I''ll make up a bundle of arrows for him as well. I''ll hide them ¡­ where? Do you know that village?¡±


    ¡°No, but Ranth is nearby in one of his bodies. I''ll talk to him, we''ll figure out a good place, and relay the information to both you and Norgoth.¡±


    He realized his hands were trembling. Saffrael threw her arms around him. ¡°Everything will be okay, even when you think it won''t.¡±


    And he melted into her embrace. ¡°What makes you say that?¡±


    ¡°Elithir and all the souls that shine from ten thousand stars, they will light the way.¡±


    * * *


    <blockquote>[Hopron, secret laboratory]</blockquote>


    The flickering light of lanterns bathed the laboratory in a soft, eerie glow. The air hummed with the low murmur of sealed entanglements and the scratch of quills on parchment. Tall shelves lined with strange apparatus and containers held the bizarre experiments of the researchers who worked here ¡ª all of them brilliant minds, each one focused on their own secretive project.


    Moraithe adjusted the collar of his cloak, his sharp eyes scanning the room. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a presence that commanded attention without needing to raise his voice. By his side, Saffrael moved with the fluid grace of a shadow, her dark eyes scanning each of the researchers as they passed by. Her beauty, coupled with her intelligence, often made her seem enigmatic. Together, they were a perfect pair¡ªsharp, strategic, and now, on a covert mission.


    Their task was clear¡ªidentify the betrayer.


    ¡°I don''t like it,¡± Saffrael whispered under her breath as they passed a workbench cluttered with glowing crystal fragments. ¡°The Severed have gotten too close to some of our secrets.¡±


    Moraithe''s jaw tightened. ¡°We''ll find out who. Stay alert.¡±


    They approached the first suspect. Shran, hunched over a table in the far corner of the lab. The space around him was cluttered with ancient tomes, fragile and yellowed with age, and his face was set with intense concentration. He barely looked up when they approached, his gaze fixed on the pages before him.


    ¡°Ah, Shran,¡± Moraithe began, his voice purposefully light. ¡°What are you working on? Anything interesting?¡±


    Shran''s sharp eyes flicked up to meet Moraithe''s, and a cold, calculating expression crossed his face. He quickly closed one of the books with a snap, his fingers lingering just a moment too long on the fragile cover. ¡°Nothing of concern,¡± he said, his voice clipped and guarded. ¡°Just some research. Old texts. They have ¡­ historical value.¡±


    Moraithe studied him closely. ¡°Old texts? Interesting. What exactly are you looking for?¡±


    For the briefest moment, Moraithe saw the flicker of something like suspicion pass through Shran''s eyes. He sat back, closing his arms protectively around the books on his desk as if guarding them from prying eyes.


    ¡°I''d appreciate it if you''d keep your distance, Moraithe,¡± Shran said, his voice tightening. ¡°These are private matters. Research that doesn''t concern you.¡±


    Saffrael raised an eyebrow.


    Moraithe took a slow step forward, his eyes narrowing. ¡°We heard you were working on some kind of scrying device, something about entangling dragonflies. Is that what this is?¡±


    Shran stiffened, and for a moment, there was an unsettling silence. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he reached for one of the books with deliberate slowness, as if to put distance between himself and their questions.


    ¡°Why don''t you leave me to my work?¡± he said, his voice suddenly icy, his tone unyielding.


    He didn''t want them anywhere near his research. There was something off about his entire demeanor now¡ªtoo defensive, too guarded.


    Saffrael took a subtle step back, glancing at Moraithe. Her voice was quieter, but still cutting. ¡°We''re only trying to help.¡±


    Shran didn''t respond. He was already focused back on his books, not acknowledging them further. But as Moraithe and Saffrael turned to leave, Moraithe couldn''t shake the feeling that Shran was hiding something far deeper than just old records.


    They found Karthiim''s workstation in a chamber containing several other researchers, a tall, brooding man whose dark eyes glinted with the sort of ambition that made people uneasy. He was examining a rev crystal, its edges flickering with strange, otherworldly light. The crystal seemed to pulse like a heartbeat, its aura reverberating throughout the room.


    ¡°Ah, Moraithe, Saffrael,¡± Karthiim greeted them with a nod, his voice tinged with an odd sense of both welcome and distance. ¡°Come to see my work, I assume?¡±


    ¡°I hear it''s one of the more promising projects,¡± Moraithe said, stepping closer. ¡°A gateway into a shared warehouse. So this is the famous rev crystal.¡±


    Karthiim''s eyes gleamed as he held up the crystal, his fingers tracing its intricate carvings. ¡°I hope not too famous. We don''t want the Severed to learn of it, after all.¡±


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°It''s a rather simple idea, isn''t it?¡± Saffrael asked, her voice as smooth as silk, but her eyes sharp.


    Karthiim smirked, his lips curling into something like a sneer. ¡°Most of the best ideas are. The greatest difficulty has been security. Logistically, it is quite powerful, but it opens us up to quite the vulnerability.¡±


    ¡°Is this a true revenescent, or something artificial?¡±


    ¡°Neither would impact the security of the design.¡± He made a dismissive gesture, clearly unimpressed by their questions.


    Moraithe narrowed his eyes. There was something ¡­ off about him.


    As they turned to leave, they were met by Barthum, the kind, mousy researcher who always seemed to have a perpetual smile plastered to his face. He looked up from a cluttered table filled with entropy crystals¡ªsmooth, faceted stones with a faint shimmer.


    ¡°Moraithe, Saffrael! I was hoping you''d drop by.¡± Barthum''s voice was always soothing, the kind of voice you trusted without question. ¡°Come tell me what you think of these entropy crystals. They are meant to store entropy as other crystals store anger and fear. Of course, I''ve still got a long way to go, even though they''re already pushing for production.¡±


    ¡°That sounds promising,¡± Saffrael said, her smile genuine. ¡°I''ve heard many good things about your work, Barthum.¡±


    Barthum''s eyes sparkled with excitement. ¡°Come look. Tell me if you have any thoughts.¡±


    Moraithe examined the crystal. There seemed to be strange patterns within them as if mimicking something familiar. ¡°Why does it seem so ¡­¡±


    His thoughts started to drift back to his visit to the First Star, but he shook away the memory before he could get lost in reverie. The pattern was so familiar. ¡°Is it a prison of light?¡±


    Barthum''s eye bulged. ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°It reminds me of an all-consuming light from my past.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant!¡± Barthum threw his arms around him in a sudden embrace. ¡°You are a genius.¡± He turned to his papers and began scribbling. ¡°This could increase the yield by fifty, no ¡­¡± He scribbled down a quick calculation. ¡°A hundred and eighty-five times!¡±


    Barthum beamed. ¡°You have just changed the entire war.¡± And within moments he had been completely consumed by his work. Saffrael turned to him and angled her head in a suggestion that they leave. Moraithe nodded and they left Barthum to his project.


    Down a long corridor, Marsh was working on battle golems, his workshop a mess of massive jars containing half-formed bodies and sleek, fanged, bristling figures lying on tables, with vacant eyes. Battle golems were an idea that had been floated for years.


    Golems were made in the exact same way as Moraithe and Saffrael had made their own bodies, twice, only lacking a soul. And without a soul, they lacked power on the battlefield. Without a soul, they could not feel anger, exude fear, cast an entanglement, nor hold a revenescent. They had no self-assurance, nor could they contain gratitude. Hence, they lacked sufficient power for battle.


    Marsh, however, was convinced that his work was close to completion. Golem soldiers that could move, fight, and protect ¡ª but still, they were nowhere near the strength of real soldiers. Even the greatest golems couldn''t stand up to the powers wielded by the Severed.


    As they approached his workspace, Marsh bent over a scroll, his brow furrowed, lips muttering under his breath. He was obviously inscribing a long list of conditions and instructions. Such scrolls were typically read aloud while the reader entangled his thoughts with its brain.


    ¡°Looks different from a standard golem,¡± Saffrael observed, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.


    Marsh jumped, clearly startled by her presence. His hands instinctively moved to cover the scroll, as though trying to hide something. His eyes darted between Moraithe and Saffrael, a flicker of guilt in his expression.


    ¡°I¡­ I''m working on it,¡± Marsh muttered quickly. ¡°These forms, they''re almost there. I just need to ¡­ tweak a few things.¡±


    Saffrael raised an eyebrow, sensing something off. ¡°They''re not strong enough to withstand a powerful enough enemy, though, are they?¡±


    Marsh''s face flushed. ¡°Not typically. But there are uses no one has considered. The small-minded think of a battlefield only as great powers attacking one another. In your mind, it is all self-assurance and entanglements, but the only reason no one has considered quantity as it¡¯s own sort of power is the vast cost in time and effort to create a body. No one even considered making them self-replicating, like what they did when creating plants. That was brilliant, but why did they stop there? We could have a vast army creating itself. An entire¡ª¡±


    Moraithe leaned forward, examining the golems. ¡°Do the instructions replicate with them?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve created something I call instincts. It will pass along knowledge, desires, and instructions.¡± He suddenly appeared afraid, as if he¡¯d said too much.


    ¡°Can you show us?¡± Moraithe stepped forward with interest.


    The golem creator tensed, his fingers twitching as he carefully ran them over the limp form. ¡°There''s nothing to show. Not yet. I don''t want your help. Now out!¡±


    Moraithe exchanged a glance with Saffrael, and they left.


    They moved on, searching for Creth''s workspace. They found him standing in front of another golem, this one holding a giant axe. Creth crouched below it, clutching his head. His project was an air shield, a type of entanglement he''d been perfecting for months. Creth was known for his quiet demeanor, and though his work was always meticulous, it had been a while since he''d made any notable breakthroughs.


    As they approached him, Creth straightened up, giving them a friendly, if strained, smile. His eyes flickered nervously toward the stack of old letters sitting in a neat pile on the corner of his desk. He rushed to his chair and quickly swept them out of sight, but not before Moraithe noticed the words ¡°urgent¡± and ¡°confidential¡± written upon them.


    ¡°What''s this?¡± Moraithe asked, his tone casual but probing.


    ¡°Just some old correspondence,¡± Creth replied quickly, his voice too light. ¡°Nothing to worry about. They''re just ¡­ from some past experiments, I keep everything organized, you know?¡± Lumps bulged out of his face, chaotically dancing in and out. His nose began to melt.


    Saffrael''s eyes widened. ¡°Looks like you''ve got a bit of chaos sickness. Too many entanglements?¡±


    Creth''s smile wavered, and he adjusted his glasses nervously. ¡°That is the nature of research, of course. I hear Barthum has something that could help.¡±


    Moraithe nodded. ¡°Yes, his entropy crystals have garnered quite a bit of interest.¡±


    ¡°But he''s a bit stingy with his research.¡±


    Moraithe caught the faintest flicker of a lie in his eyes. ¡°Stingy. I''ve never seen him as anything but friendly.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± Creth faltered, glancing down at his cluttered desk. ¡°Let''s just say¡­ I don''t like to be in anyone''s debt.¡±


    Saffrael stepped closer, her voice lowering in a way that only added to the tension. ¡°Are you in debt?¡±


    ¡°Why would you think that?¡± he replied, a little too defensively. ¡°Let me show you the air shield.¡± He leaped up and strode to the golem, an obvious distraction. ¡°I''ve been improving the conditional bindings to deal with other types of¡ª¡±


    Saffrael held up a hand. ¡°I don''t want to push you any further. You already have chaos sickness. Perhaps you can show us another time.¡±


    They left to consider their next move. Creth wasn''t the only researcher hiding something. There were too many secrets in this place, too many anomalies.


    ¡°We''re getting closer,¡± Moraithe muttered as they walked away. ¡°But we need more information.¡±


    Saffrael nodded, her expression grim. ¡°Keep watching. One of them is the mole. And when we find out who, we may have one last trick for the Severed.¡±


    With that, they retreated into the shadows of the laboratory once more, suspicions swirling in their thoughts, and the truth still just out of reach.


    * * *


    <blockquote>[Hopron, secret laboratory]</blockquote>


    <blockquote>[Other body ¨C Deep Space, aboard a Severed vessel]</blockquote>


    Moraithe frowned at the enormity of the task looming before him. ¡°This would be easy if I could just place a runic key in your revenescent.¡±


    Saffrael gave him an uncertain expression. ¡°You want to just be able to access my revenescent any time you want, to do anything you want with it? Uh, you know I love you Moraithe, but that''s asking a little too much.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I guess I''m doing this the hard way then.¡± Moraithe sighed in resignation.


    Years ago, they''d sought out a temple to discover the secrets of sealing an entanglement so it would last beyond the moment of compressing their will upon it. They had never found that temple, but thankfully, Elithir had taught him the trick, along with variations upon it. Only with that knowledge could he prepare the arrows for his trick against the Severed.


    He closed his eyes, his breath slowing as he prepared to reach across the divide of his existence. He felt the weight of both bodies, as if they were tethered to his mind by invisible threads, each one a separate world, each pulling him in different directions.


    With one body, he focused on the gentle hum of Saffrael''s revenescent, the vast, unfathomable space stretching before him. He could sense it now, the edges of it¡ªan ethereal, shimmering space that was hers alone. She held it open just enough to let him work, as he felt the delicate tendrils of her power spiraling into his consciousness.


    His other body, floating in his sleeping chamber, touched the tips of the arrows¡ªthe deceptively soft barbed metal, which would easily crush into a blunted tip. With their wooden shafts warded against the wetness, they seemed to pulse with the weight of their purpose. Moraithe''s breath hitched as he reached for them, his mind splitting, pulling between his two lives¡ªdrawing between them an entanglement.


    Power surged in his fingertips. The first arrow became the sole focus of his will. Slowly, carefully, he reached out to it. The tip of the arrow blazed with his intent as he connected it with the depths of Saffrael''s revenescent, a portal linking the arrow to her pocket universe. The first spark of connection flared in his mind, and a wave of entropy surged inward, unbidden.


    He couldn''t stop now. The next arrow¡ªhe touched it swiftly, his hands moving of their own accord, his thoughts dancing between the two bodies. Another. Then another. He felt Saffrael''s presence stronger now, an anchor that he clung to as his mind stretched like a band pulled too tight. Another entanglement. Another wave of entropy and the strain on his mind deepened.


    Nearing the final arrow, the entropy twisted painfully¡ªtoo much, too much¡ªand Moraithe''s mind screamed in protest. He completed the final entanglement, sealing it with the heavy threads of his will. They would carry the innocents into Saffrael''s revenescent, out of sight, safe from the Severed''s demands. A ripple of chaos flooded through him.


    His vision blurred for a moment, and for a split second, he was unsure which body he had landed in. His skull felt as though it was cracking under the pressure.


    He fell into a form of meditation, an automatic response against the burden of entropy spilling over the walls of his mind. If any splashed out into his body he would experience chaos sickness. Then who knew what distortions or chaos the entropy would force upon his body.


    This step was done¡ªbut at such a cost.


    Gasping for breath, his eyes snapped open, and everything around him seemed to shimmer and warp. He staggered, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him, but he caught himself against the stone wall. Entropy. It had left its mark on his mind¡ªchaos, a seething, jagged thing that clawed at the edges of his thoughts, making the world spin in dizzying circles.


    Saffrael''s voice was gentle in his ear. ¡°Moraithe,¡± she murmured, her tone filled with concern. She was close now, her presence grounding, but even her voice seemed muffled, distorted by the weight of the chaos.


    He shook his head, swallowing hard. ¡°I ¡­ I''m fine.¡± His voice was hoarse, strained, but it was enough to reassure her. At least, he hoped it was.


    Saffrael''s fingers brushed against his arm, and he could feel the warmth of her touch cutting through the fog of his mind. ¡°Are you sure? That''s a lot of entropy for one person to bear. Maybe we should use one of those entropy crystals to clear it out.¡±


    He winced, feeling a stab of discomfort deep within his skull. The thought of using a crystal¡ªthe crystals that stored entropy¡ªwas tempting, but taking one could jeopardize their mission. And Elithir was skeptical of them. He didn''t entirely trust the consequences of their use. Power always came with a price. What was the price of this?


    ¡°No,¡± he said quietly, gritting his teeth. ¡°Not yet. I can handle it. I just need ¡­ a moment.¡±


    Saffrael''s gaze softened, her lips pressing together in a thin line of concern. She wanted to argue, but she could see in his eyes the resolve that she knew well. Moraithe would push through the pain, just as he always did.


    ¡°Alright,¡± she said finally, her voice softening. ¡°But I want you to take it easy. Lean on me until you can stand alone.¡±


    Moraithe let out a shaky breath. ¡°Thank you. At least the hardest part is done.¡± He lay his head upon her shoulder and mediated. They just had to endure, together.


    Saffrael rubbed his temples. ¡°We''re going after the mole next, right?¡±


    Moraithe nodded. ¡°At least my part of that plan is the easy one.¡±


    * * *


    <blockquote>[Hopron, secret laboratory]</blockquote>


    When the day ended the laboratory always grew to a roar of voices before it fell quiet again. It was silent now, save for the low hum of some curious entanglement down one of the corridors.


    Moraithe and Saffrael stood at the center of the hush, staring at the case of crystals.


    They had needed to pull some strings, but they had maneuvered themselves into the position where they were the ones who would lock up the rev crystals every night after all the goods had been stored inside. Lock them up every night, and retrieve them every morning. This was the key to their plan for catching those in their ranks who might have divided loyalties.


    Saffrael stood near the vault, her presence barely more than a shadow among the towering shelves. She looked out over the vast arrays of tubes, trays, beakers, and glass chambers used for growing the various crystals they made here. The residue of their energy hummed softly, a constant reminder of the vast potential of what was made in this place.


    Moraithe''s fingers brushed over a rev crystal¡ªits surface alive with pulsing light. He held it carefully, feeling the weight of it in his palm, considering their plan. These wondrous artifacts were all gateways to the same place, a massive warehouse, containing all the supplies needed for the war.


    ¡°So these are what they''re going to distribute to all the quartermasters on our side of the war, huh?¡± Saffrael asked, her tone a little strained as if she was still digesting the implications of their plan.


    Moraithe nodded, still turning the crystal in his hands. ¡°Not just the quartermasters, those manufacturing our supplies will also have one. A shared vault for all our weapons stores, food supplies, and armor. Even Barthum''s entropy crystals will be stored here. It''s quite the logistical miracle.¡±


    ¡°Almost overnight it has become our greatest weapon, and also our most vulnerable point. If it fell into the wrong hands ¡­¡± Saffrael let the words hang in the air, her lips pressing into a tight line. ¡°It would be a disaster on the scale of nothing we''ve ever seen.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. That''s why this is the perfect bait.¡± Moraithe turned his gaze from the crystal to Saffrael. ¡°If there''s a mole in the research laboratory¡ªsomeone trying to sell these crystals to the Severed¡ªthey''ll have to make their move once they think we''ve hidden the crystals away securely.¡±


    ¡°It didn''t seem like you had as much trouble making these trap crystals as you did making those arrows, even though it was basically the same thing.¡±


    ¡°I had to stretch myself across both lives and maintain consciousness in both places to make the arrows. These were easy. I just had to be in the prison cell we put in your revenescent to do them. It was actually more difficult to make them seem like rev crystals, I had to entangle them with the aura of the rev crystals themselves. I''ve never tried entangling an aura before. It could be a nice trick on the battlefield though. Make it seem like we have barons running around everywhere in the ranks.¡±


    ¡°Why stop there, how about princes, infinites?¡±


    ¡°It''s got to be believable. Anyway, once we swap out these crystals for the trap crystals, we should be set.¡±


    Saffrael reached out for the case of rev crystals and stored them in her revenescent. Then she took out an identical looking case.


    Moraithe examined the case. It looked identical. ¡°How do you know those are the trap crystals? What if you got confused?¡±


    ¡°Want to test one?¡±


    ¡°I really don''t want to be stuck in an unbreakable prison cell, thanks.¡±


    ¡°You said my revenescent was warm and cozy. At least that''s a plus right?¡±


    Moraithe laughed. ¡°We''ve got work to do. And I have to secure the crystals.¡±


    Saffrael raised an eyebrow. ¡°Okay, there''s one thing I''m not clear on. How do we make it look secure but leave an opening tempting enough for our mole to take advantage of?¡±


    ¡°You know that our researchers have their own tools of the trade?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Have you heard of the entanglement breaker?¡±


    Saffrael shook her head.


    ¡°It''s a device specifically designed to sever entanglements. I even managed to get one.¡± He pulled it from his pocket and held it out to her. It was a sleek, silver instrument with intricate runes carved along its surface, its edges sharp and delicate. ¡°They are invaluable for breaking sealed entanglements, the very sort the researchers are constantly using. They are also particularly useful for dealing with secure vaults or entangled locks.¡±


    ¡°It seems like we should have countermeasures for something like this.¡±


    Moraithe set the case of trap crystals into the vault, which glowed faintly with some ethereal light. ¡°We do. They aren''t often used because entanglement breakers are so rare. But I mean to deliberately ignore those countermeasures, feigning bravado, that no one could possibly break my entanglements, they are simply too strong.¡±


    Saffrael tilted her head, impressed. ¡°I suppose you''ve tested it.¡±


    ¡°It slices right through all the locks and protections.¡± He said as he set those very locks and protections over the vault.


    Saffrael examined his work. ¡°That should do it then. They take the bait, break the entanglement. And when they touch the crystal¡­¡±


    ¡°They''ll find themselves locked in your revenescent,¡± Moraithe finished, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. ¡°Perfect.¡±


    They both paused, the weight of their plan sinking in.


    ¡°After they take the bait,¡± Saffrael said, her voice softening, ¡°We''ll send a message to Elithir.¡±


    Moraithe nodded, imagining all their work coming to fruition. ¡°Once the trap springs, they''ll have no way out.¡±


    Saffrael threw her arms around him in celebration. ¡°Now we wait.¡±

 Trapped

    <blockquote>[First Era ¨C Year 6 of the Divinity War; Deep space, aboard a Severed vessel]</blockquote>


    Moraithe took a deep breath through his snogbreather golem, the creature adjusted the position of a tentacle across his jaw, suckers detaching and quickly reattaching. The bundle of unfinished arrows floated before him, sealed to Saffrael¡¯s revenescent, now awaiting their second entanglement. He had prepared countless weapons over the years, but these were different¡ªthese were made to protect life and hide all traces of that fact.


    Only one entanglement could possibly work as the second entanglement on his arrows. Only the fires of the First Star could burn hot enough to cleanse the battlefield of all signs of remains, burning the entire village to ash and glass.


    It had taken him years to prepare to place a runic key upon the First Star. Nowhere in the universe burned more fiercely. It was difficult to understand how such a fierce all-consuming fire had been born by love. But that is how true stars are born.


    They had started as a community of people seeking to help one another. And that concern for neighbors had grown into a fierce desire to help each other, in time it had refined into a primal force, and begun to shine. Light was born, born from love, from the desire to help others see truth and from truth grow in power and might.


    When they saw their shining they did not hide that light, they let it shine forth, and so was born the First Star, blazing light across the universe. Those under the star''s light began to grow faster than all others. The light fueled their knowledge of truth, their growth. And soon it became a vital force in the universe.


    Other worlds followed their lead and more stars were born, but none as bright as the First Star. Some, like Throm¡¯tor, had even made counterfeits, false stars that would grow old and burn out.


    Moraithe¡¯s journey to the First Star had been short in every sense of the word. For the light of the star would burn out all lies and impurities, and those who based any of their lives or rooted their identities upon such things would be burnt to cinders as they neared that light. Only the pure could approach such a place. And after years of training, he had finally been able to reach the star.


    It had only taken him so little time to prepare for reaching the First Star because he had once called it home, not so long ago. It mattered not that he had forgotten. He had not spent so long away that he had grown so very impure, nor come to love or believe so many lies.


    There he had placed his runic key before the world could burn him up. He still remembered the intense feeling upon the First Star as his mind retraced the moment ¡­


    Moraithe approached the corona of the First Star, his heart beating wildly as he gazed into the overwhelming brilliance before him. There was no comparison to the sheer intensity of the light that poured from the star, the blinding brilliance so powerful it felt like it could sear the very soul of anyone who dared approach.


    He could not linger. The light was too fierce, the star''s radiance too pure for him to remain for long. One wrong step, one miscalculation, and he would be consumed.


    He had trained for this day for years, refining himself¡ªmind, will, and body¡ªhoning himself to withstand the overwhelming light. For this was no ordinary journey. The star was not simply a place one could approach with physical fortitude. It required purity¡ªclarity of heart and purpose. Many had failed before him. The star was sacred, the first of its kind, and its radiance was a gift, but also a test.


    He felt the weight of his training, the years of preparation, come to bear upon him. With a deep breath, he focused on the runic key, steadying his mind and drawing upon his reservoir of self-assurance.


    There he inscribed the runic key upon the First Star¡ªcarved with the finest precision, the sigils glowing faintly in the blinding light. It was the culmination of years of painstaking work, an anchor he could bind with his entanglements forever, and he drank in the entropy it required. But bathed in that light something strange occurred. Light revealed truth, truth led to order, and such order in his soul obliterated the entropy within moments.


    It had been like nothing else he¡¯d ever experienced.


    The sensations of that place faded from his thoughts as he reached out to that runic key. Now, arrows in hand, he prepared the bindings of the entanglement, taking the entropy but leaving the connection untriggered. Once triggered it would leave nothing but scorched earth in its wake.


    Preparing an untriggered entanglement was delicate, like threading a needle with the finest silk, but Moraithe¡¯s skill had grown, honed over many years. Each arrow held the entanglement, a burning promise of death. Yet, around that entanglement he wrapped others, cocooning it in conditions that must be met before they could trigger the flames of the First Star. The moment the arrow left the bowstring, it would trigger a chain of entanglements, one after the other.


    His mind went over the steps. The first condition was simple¡ªthe arrow must be fired. No power could be unleashed unless that basic premise was satisfied. But the second, the more critical one, it must strike, then the revenescent entanglement would be triggered, sucking the living into the revenescent. But the last condition involved far more calculation. The village must be empty of life, gone into the revenescent. Only when the area was clear could the entanglement ignite, turning the arrow into a vessel for the star¡¯s fury.


    Moraithe bottled the entropy up in his mind as he sealed the last knot of the conditional entanglements, a low hum vibrating in his head as the entropy settled into place.


    This kind of conditional entanglement had changed everything, allowing him to shoot arrows without struggling to get the timing exact. An entanglement could be set to trigger at the moment of impact, or even within a certain proximity of the target. This way proper preparation could make up for such intense concentration, always at a premium during battle.


    He examined each arrow for imperfections and quietly nodded in satisfaction. His preparations were complete, all that remained was to loose the arrows and hope the plan went smoothly.


    * * *


    <blockquote>[Hopron, secret laboratory]</blockquote>


    <blockquote>[Kapurn, command palaces]</blockquote>


    Saffrael¡¯s heart skipped a beat as she opened her revenescent, and a chill ran down her spine. The air felt heavier, the temperature colder, and an eerie, unnatural presence slithered from the depths of her pocket universe. Then, she felt something dark and ominous brush past her, escaping into the wide universe.


    ¡°What in the name of the stars¡­?¡± Saffrael whispered, stepping back instinctively. It was as if something ¡­ wrong had come through.


    Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, Moraithe appeared at her side, his brow furrowed in concern. ¡°What is it, Saffrael?¡± His voice carried a sense of urgency, and she grabbed his arm, pulling him into her revenescent, toward the source of the disturbance. Together, they hurried into its deeper recesses to check their trap.


    What they found was a mangled wreck. Inside, the prison they had so carefully crafted was in ruins. The walls, once reinforced by layers of entanglements, were shredded. Ripped open as if by some unseen force, the cell meant to hold their captive was now nothing more than a pile of broken scrap and fractured entanglements. The thought was impossible¡ªhow could this have happened?


    ¡°No. We were meticulous with this,¡± Moraithe murmured, kneeling to inspect the destruction. ¡°We installed countermeasures against the entanglement breaker. Nothing should have gotten through this.¡±


    Saffrael joined him, her eyes scanning the damage. ¡°And yet, something did.¡±


    A glint of light caught Saffrael¡¯s eye, drawing her attention to something lying on the ground amidst the wreckage. She reached down and picked up an entropy crystal, its facets swirling with chaos. Her breath felt heavy.


    Moraithe took it from her, examining it. ¡°Where did this come from?¡± he asked, turning it over in his hand.


    ¡°This is one of the experimental crystals from the lab¡ªthe ones from before they had begun production. How did it end up here?¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Moraithe said, his face paling as he rushed from the cell and scoured the revenescent. ¡°Where is he? Where¡¯s our captive? He can¡¯t have escaped your revenescent. He should still be here.¡±


    Saffrael¡¯s heart raced as she scanned the area again, but her world remained silent, empty. ¡°He¡¯s ¡­ gone. But this¡ª¡± she held up the entropy crystal ¡°¡ªthis crystal shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps he used it to break out?¡± Moraithe suggested, his eyes narrowing. ¡°This and the entanglement breaker, it might have been enough. It must have been.¡±


    They exchanged a tense glance, realizing the grim implications. The countermeasures in place should have been more than enough to hold anyone. And yet, here they were, standing in the remnants of a failed containment, their prisoner nowhere to be found.


    ¡°But how did he escape your revenescent?¡±


    Saffrael¡¯s eyes bulged as she came to a realization. ¡°The rev crystals. He could be there, in the warehouse. Hurry, we need to check.¡±


    As soon as they approached the case of rev crystals, she knew something was wrong. The case was open, its locks broken. And worst of all, one of the crystals was missing.


    Together they took a crystal, opened the doorway into that shared warehouse, and rushed inside. But no one was there. It was entirely silent, devoid of life. And what was more, nothing had been taken. It was all here.


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    Yet Saffrael immediately felt something was off. The defenses Karthiim had labored so long to create, they too had been broken. Bits of his traps and constructs lay strewn about in heaps of rubble. Beyond that, the air inside the warehouse felt ¡­ darker. Too heavy. Too chaotic. She traced the feeling. The large shelves that once held carefully labeled entropy crystals now seemed oddly cold.


    And then, with a sense of dread creeping up her spine, she noticed what was different. ¡°The entropy crystals,¡± she whispered, voice tinged with disbelief. ¡°They''re all used up.¡±


    Moraithe stepped closer, running his fingers over the empty shelves. ¡°What? All of them? There were thousands¡ªtens of thousands of crystals here. What could have possibly¡ª¡±


    She cut him off, her mind racing. ¡°But how? Who¡ªwhat entanglement could possibly use up so much entropy? It would have to be the greatest entanglement ever performed.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But they left the rest of the stock untouched.¡±


    Her thoughts turned quickly, piecing together the disturbing puzzle. The expended entropy crystals, this wasn¡¯t just an inconvenience¡ªit was a catastrophe in the making. The entropy crystals had been the key to their latest military advantage, plans relying upon them were already being carried out, and without them ¡­


    Saffrael gripped his arm, her eyes wide with horror. ¡°What if¡ªwhat if our betrayer used them all at once?¡± Her voice trembled. ¡°What kind of entanglement could use every single one of them? It would have to be something unimaginable¡ªan entanglement of such magnitude that it¡ª¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°He couldn''t have. That much energy would tear through space itself. He''d have to be insane to attempt something like that.¡±


    But they both knew that some of the researchers had never been particularly sane. They had always been unstable, unpredictable, it was a product of their genius. But with this, their betrayer had held a tool capable of unraveling half of the universe.


    Saffrael exchanged a look of disbelief with Moraithe, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach. How could such a disaster have occurred? They''d thought their plan so clever, but she''d put their betrayer in the same place as the rev crystals. There really hadn''t been any other option, but it had clearly been a grave error.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened here, but it¡¯s worse than that. One of the crystals is missing. If he escaped with it ¡­¡± Saffrael turned abruptly and fled the warehouse. ¡°We need to warn Elithir. Now!¡±


    She took the rev crystal and they exited her revenescent.


    Moraithe pulled out a paper, something only for emergencies. He concentrated on it and triggered the entanglement. A door appeared, and they rushed through it, into Elithir¡¯s stronghold, breathless, carrying one of the remaining rev crystals with them as a gateway.


    Elithir stood in the center of a vast chamber, his face grim as Saffrael and Moraithe entered.


    Saffrael handed him the rev crystal, and Elithir immediately examined it, his brow furrowing.


    ¡°I don''t understand what happened,¡± She said, voice tinged with worry. ¡°The warehouse ¡­ it¡¯s been breached. The entropy crystals are expended, and we don¡¯t know who did it or what he has done to use them all up. We need to act fast.¡±


    Elithir remained silent for a moment, then nodded curtly. ¡°We must clear it out immediately.¡±


    They entered, rushed down the path to the entropy crystals, and halted. Saffrael stared, confused. ¡°The spent entropy crystals. They¡¯re gone.¡±


    Elithir turned to them, his eyes curious and calculating. ¡°Why take spent crystals? Strange that nothing else has been taken.¡±


    In an instant, everything in the warehouse vanished. Elithir turned to them and nodded. ¡°At least now they can¡¯t take anything else.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Saffrael exclaimed. ¡°You cleared it out¡ªjust like that?¡± By this point, she should stop being surprised by anything he did.


    ¡°They have access to this warehouse now, so we can¡¯t take any more chances. I want you to find out which of your researchers is missing. I¡¯d like to put a name to this betrayer of ours.¡±


    ¡°We will. But what do we do about this? What now?¡±


    Elithir sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t put it off any longer. If we are going to win this war we need every advantage we can get. We need to know the future.¡±


    Moraithe gasped. ¡°So you¡¯re going to go through with it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have much choice.¡±


    ¡°What is this?¡± Saffrael asked.


    Elithir fixed her with a gaze like the weight of the universe. ¡°I¡¯m going to entangle myself across eternity. Only then can we know the future. Only then can we see what our enemy is planning. Only then can we win.¡±


    * * *


    <blockquote>[Valgane, outside a village near Orsis]</blockquote>


    <blockquote>[Hopron, secret laboratory]</blockquote>


    Moraithe crouched behind a boulder, watching the village in the distance, the early morning mist creeping across the fields. His heart drummed with a rhythm of anxious anticipation. This mission had been a long time coming. It was the kind of task he¡¯d been dreading. But everything had been prepared meticulously, every detail accounted for. He just had to wait.


    His breath came slow, controlled, as his senses reached out to the bond that tied him to his other body, back to the laboratory where he and Saffrael were stationed. He felt the phantom pressure of her hand on his, galaxies away, comforting him.


    He glanced across at the cache of arrows he¡¯d hidden in a hollow beneath an ancient tree to the south of the village, the spot known only to Norgoth. With any luck, he had found them. If Ranth had done his job correctly, the villagers would have been alerted to the coming danger, their homes packed up, belongings stored in their own revenescents. Nothing could be done for their homes though. But he had plenty of gratitude to pay them back.


    He nocked three arrows at once. It would not matter that they would steal momentum from one another, no, the entanglements would do all the work. From the other side of the village, Norgoth gave the signal, a shrill cry.


    They loosed, as the quiet of the morning was shattered, and so fell the first volley of arrows. With practiced motions, he drew more arrows, three at a time from his quiver, nocked, aimed, loosed, and repeated, blanketing the entire village until the deed was done.


    Moraithe didn¡¯t even need to look. He knew what would happen next. The arrows, each one entangled with a thread leading into Saffrael¡¯s revenescent, would find their targets¡ªwould lift the villagers away from this world and into a place where they would be safe. There was no turning back now.


    The air cracked with energy as fiery explosions erupted in the village, illuminating the morning sky in bursts of orange and red. The ground trembled, and the echo of destruction reverberated across the landscape. As the town was reduced to a sea of craters and glass, a sense of grim satisfaction washed over Moraithe.


    Elithir had taught him how to feel an aura, to sense how much self-assurance someone had. By slow incremental progress, he had worked his way to this point. And now he felt himself enter the rank of knight as he passed nine thousand.


    The mission had unfolded exactly as planned. But he had to be sure.


    He leaned back against the bolder and shut his eyes, a faint sense of disorientation prickling the edges of his consciousness, and then he was there¡ªflipping back to his other body, the one stationed with Saffrael.


    ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± Moraithe¡¯s voice was tight with the weight of what had just transpired. ¡°The village¡ªit''s gone.¡±


    Saffrael¡¯s voice came through clear but with an undercurrent of unease. ¡°The mission was a success. Every villager was transferred into my revenescent. They¡¯re all accounted for. But¡ªthere¡¯s something else.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°What?¡±


    Her tone shifted as if weighing her words, ¡°I did some digging. One of the researchers ¡­ Barthum. He¡¯s gone. He¡¯s the only one missing.¡±


    A cold shiver ran down Moraithe¡¯s spine. Barthum? The same Barthum who had worked to create the entropy crystals? The same one who had seemed so trustworthy? The one they¡¯d assumed was most loyal?


    He clenched his fists, his mind racing. A betrayer. All this time, they''d been so careful, so fastidious. He alone had escaped their suspicion.


    Saffrael''s voice broke into his thoughts again. ¡°I don¡¯t know how he did it, but he¡¯s the one who¡¯s been feeding information to the enemy. All this time, he¡¯s been the mole.¡±


    Moraithe stood, the weight of the failure settling heavily in his chest. ¡°We should have seen it. We should have known. He knows how to make the entropy crystals. Now our greatest secret¡ªit¡¯s been compromised.¡±


    Saffrael¡¯s tone was steady, but there was a hint of uncertainty underneath. ¡°We still have the others. The villagers are safe in the revenescent. The mission¡¯s not lost, but ¡­ Barthum¡¯s betrayal changes everything.¡±


    A long pause stretched between them. Moraithe ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts racing. ¡°We need to find Barthum. We need to find him before he does any more damage. We can¡¯t fail in this. Not after everything we¡¯ve sacrificed.¡±


    But as he spoke, a creeping dread washed over him that maybe this was one promise he couldn¡¯t keep.

 Within His Grasp

    <blockquote>[First Era ¨C Year 6 of the Divinity War; The Faint, region undefined]</blockquote>


    Leaving Saffrael, even temporarily, was harder than he¡¯d expected. He¡¯d come to rely on her presence, her warmth and kindness, even the comfort of her stardust freckled beauty, and her sweet winterblossom scent. But Break and Shore had been alone for so long¡ªwell, not alone, but without him¡ªand he wanted to check on their progress.


    As a knight, he believed he could finally make the journey alone. He reached out to the runic key he¡¯d left there, on a rock that he¡¯d entangled above the world. Elithir and others had done this enough times that he knew what it felt like, even the technical details, but he¡¯d never had the strength to try it himself.


    He reached for the space around him, entangling it with the space around that runic key so far away. Distance was no obstacle for an entanglement, only connection mattered. Gathering all his strength, his will, his self-assurance, he merged those two spaces, he made them one. Entropy slammed into his mind like a falling mountain. He staggered at the chaos, erecting walls of his will to contain it¡ªbreathing, meditating until it was under control.


    He opened his eyes to gaze once more upon that burnt yellow sun. He had made it. Standing upon that floating rock, he slowly whittled down the entropy with his will, reversing it, turning chaos into order. He whistled, while in his mind he called out to Break and Shore. When it was at last enough, he looked down a quarter mile to that churning surface. It was a long way. Yet his self-assurance not only reinforced his will, his entanglements, his strength, and his mind, but it did the same for his body.


    He stepped off of the rock, feeling the wind tearing at him, drying his eyes. He blinked them shut until he felt the aura of the world nearing. Stone cracked and shattered into splinters as he slammed into the earth. The jarring force through his bones was greater than he¡¯d expected, but his body held firm and his gratitude made up the rest, healing the few small fractures his bones had endured.


    So this was what power felt like.


    He entangled the ground beneath him with salt, stabilizing it, pushing back the mithsyrium, now further, and further still, miles out in every direction. Then he released the entanglement, sat down, and waited for his pets to arrive.


    The sun was falling low by the time Break and Shore emerged. They came together, each with something glittering in their teeth. Fragments of his memories. He could feel them resonating with him even at this distance. My ¡­ they had grown, now nearing waist height. They approached, leaping upon him and playfully rolling about. He scratched, embraced, and wrestled them until their excitement chilled.


    Sitting still, expectantly, he held out a hand, and they each dropped a mouthful of glittering fragments into his palm.


    ¡°Nine!? Good job. You¡¯ve been busy.¡± He petted them each in gratitude, a mystic smile spreading across his face. Then he remembered he should pay them some of his gratitude as well. He let a fair-sized chunk of the sliver warmth well up in his free hand and offered it to each of them. They took it and pranced around in excitement, stamping and clicking.


    He turned his attention to the fragments and began to absorb them slowly, one at a time, remembering snippets of his life from before. Training, playing games with Saffrael and Norgoth, time with his father and mother, his kind neighbors upon the First Star, times of loneliness and loss, searching the universe for his missing friends. So much beauty and warmth, as well as struggle, difficulty, and hardship. They were like puzzle pieces, just beginning to fill out a picture of who he was, still too vague to know for certain, but giving him a sense of the tone of his life from before.


    He measured his aura and stared in awe at how far he¡¯d come in so short a time. But he had to remember he was only regaining pieces of what he¡¯d lost. Nineteen thousand four hundred and fifty-nine. That brought him so near the rank of general that he could almost taste it. He flexed his strength and looked up at the speck of rock he¡¯d fallen from, high above. He wondered if he could reach it. At least he could try.


    Crouching low, he gathered all his energy, ready to spring up toward that rock so high above him. Then he leaped, shooting into the sky with such force that Shore and Break dove into the earth to avoid the splintering chunks of rock that sprayed about him in his wake. Higher and higher he flew until, at last, he began to slow, nearly halfway to his goal. Not quite enough, but it had still been an impressive distance.


    After his return fall, he called Break and Shore back to him. Though he had failed to secure a copy of Marsh¡¯s golem research, he¡¯d managed something better, to sneak runic keys into two models of Marsh¡¯s self-replicating golems. No wonder he¡¯d been so secretive. It was genius in its detail and complexity. So well thought out. The ability for a male and female to produce replications of themselves together, thereby creating variety while maintaining certain parameters ... The plans were of such a scope that he¡¯d never even imagined such a thing.


    Break and Shore were fantastic, of course, but if they could replicate, and if those offspring could in turn replicate, each instilled with the same¡ªwhat did he call them¡ªinstincts to find his memory fragments, there was no telling how quickly they could be recovered.


    His mind staggered as he began to consider the wealth of tasks self-replicating golems could be designed to perform. Not just on the battlefield, for gathering resources, perhaps refining them, growing them, even. He could use them to accomplish so much work¡ªto build a house, a mansion, maybe a palace. They could repurpose worlds. The possibilities were endless.


    Shore nudged him out of his thoughts and he petted her, smiling.


    He knew the modifications to their bodies would not be easy, not for any of them, but if this worked it would be a greater boon than anything else he could imagine. First, he laid a hand upon Break. To entangle all the systems of the male self-reproducing golem with his pet would require hundreds¡ªno thousands of entanglements. He counted them. With so much self-assurance bolstering his mental power, the calculation went quickly. Three thousand seven hundred and eighty-one. So many complicated and interdependent entanglements.


    He sighed at the scope of it all.


    Well, nothing left but to begin the work. The excitement began to build, as did the entropy, but as a peak knight, so near reaching the rank of general, he could handle it.


    * * *


    <blockquote>[Deep space, aboard a Severed vessel]</blockquote>


    Moraithe and Norgoth had done it. They had infiltrated the Severed¡¯s inner circle, their true identities as drackmoor remained hidden. No one suspected a thing. Their subtle manipulation, careful planning, and patience had earned them the trust of those dark leaders.


    They floated together with the Severed, and in that chamber, they began to formulate a bold, sweeping plan to strike at one of the greatest stronghold worlds in the universe¡ªan operation that if it succeeded would topple Moraithe¡¯s true allies in a single devastating blow. Even as they strategized, he considered ways to undermine it.


    Then, just as their plan was taking shape, like an explosion of ink, a grim darkness flooded the chamber. It didn¡¯t enter through the door or materialize in any natural way¡ªit simply was. It filled the water, thickening it with a sensation of pure weight, of being choked by something far greater, far darker than the Severed themselves.


    Moraithe tensed, instinctively reaching for his weapons, but it was too late. He was already enveloped in the crushing presence. The darkness was not merely a physical thing¡ªit was alive. It clung to water, air, space itself, drowning out everything.


    From the oppressive shadow, Barthum pulsed forward, his form barely visible in the inky haze he commanded. The researcher had changed from the kind and mousy fellow with a perpetual smile, into a hulking brute with a grim sneer. No snogbreather covered his face, but he showed no signs of suffocation. A chill swept through the depths of the chamber, an unnatural energy settling like blood in the water. The Severed fluttered arms and tentacles, backing away, their faces stricken with fear.


    ¡°Your master has come,¡± Barthum¡¯s voice resonated, not through his mouth but as a pulse of sheer power that vibrated in their bones. His voice carried the weight of absolute command. ¡°And now, you belong to me.¡±


    A sudden wave of realization hit the Severed. There was no fighting this. They had no means of escaping it. They were caught in his grip. The room trembled, the darkness swirling around them like a living thing, suffocating them with its power.


    Moraithe tried to move, to break free of the isolating grip of Barthum¡¯s presence, but it was useless. No force he could muster would shake the shackles that had been placed upon them. He glanced to Norgoth, but his friend¡¯s face was drawn tight with fear, his hands trembling. This was a presence as indomitable as Elithir at least. There was nothing they could do. They were completely outmatched.


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    Barthum¡¯s voice boomed through their minds, invading their thoughts with terrifying ease. ¡°You think you are powerful. You think you have the universe under your control. But you were blind to the darkness that hides beneath it all. I am the darkness.¡± The universe trembled at the force of those words.


    A shudder ran through Moraithe¡¯s spine as Barthum continued, his dark power manifesting in tendrils that curled around the Severed like chains.


    ¡°I have entangled myself with every shadow, every void, every piece of darkness in the universe. I see all that touches it. Every secret, every hidden truth. All things that lurk in the dark, I know them. There is nowhere you can hide from me, no secret you can keep.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s heart nearly burst at those words. Does he already know? He struggled to keep his gaze from drifting over to Norgoth.


    ¡°And now ¡­¡± Barthum¡¯s voice became smooth, like silk, the threat wrapped in a promise. ¡°With this power, I will make you unstoppable. With my power, we can bring all our enemies to the dust. I will see their worlds burn. I will make the universe bow.¡±


    The room hung in silence for a moment, the full weight of Barthum¡¯s words settling in. The Severed, once so terrifying in their own right, stood in stunned silence. The plan to destroy a stronghold world? It seemed laughable now. How could their own strength compare to a being who commanded the darkness itself, who had entangled his very existence with the vastness of the universe¡¯s shadow?


    Moraithe''s mind spun. Barthum had become something beyond powerful¡ªhe was omniscient in the dark spaces, connected to every secret, every hidden move. His power was limitless, his reach unfathomable. The very foundations of the drackmoor were built on secrets, on hidden things, and Barthum had just shattered that.


    Norgoth turned to him, luminous veins thrumming. Have we finally been revealed?


    Moraithe¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as Barthum¡¯s darkness tightened around them. They were trapped¡ªno escape, no hope of a counterattack. He had never felt so powerless.


    ¡°Hear my decree,¡± Barthum¡¯s voice rumbled, deepening like thunder. An ominous silence waited to hear his words. ¡°I will perceive every lie. With my power, nothing can hide in the shadows. With my power, we will conquer. You are now my armies. Together, we will sweep across the stars, and no one will dare to defy us again. Be faithful to me and I will reward you.


    ¡°But more than this, I have a plan that will strip all power from my enemies, and only those whom I choose to protect will retain any portion of their strength. I will snuff out the stars, conquer the light, and bring every soul under my dominion forever.¡±


    Barthum¡¯s laugh echoed through the chamber, dark and all-encompassing. The Severed, their faces empty of the arrogance they once carried, slowly bowed their heads, one by one, utterly broken. They had no choice but to submit. This was no longer a war. This was survival¡ªa new era¡ªand Barthum would rule all.


    Finally, Moraithe dared a glance at Norgoth. The plans they had fought so hard to set in motion were nothing compared to the vast and terrible designs of the one who had wrapped the universe in shadow¡ªhad become darkness itself.


    * * *


    <blockquote>[Kapurn, command palaces]</blockquote>


    It was the second time in recent memory Moraithe had needed to use the door, but Elithir had to hear the news. He needed to know about Barthum, what he¡¯d become.


    Once more in the grand hall where Elithir worked, Moraithe felt the unnatural stillness of the place. His footsteps echoed like thunder through that silence, a silence far too deep. ¡°Elithir?¡±


    But no voice answered. He scanned the room and his eyes immediately fell upon a statue carved in the perfect likeness of his father, sitting upon his chair.


    He rushed over to it and stopped, gaping at the incredible lifelike detail of the sculpture. It captured everything about Elithir down to the minutest detail. That expression of deep concentration, the way he held his eyebrows, even their fine hairs were all carved into the stone. It was as if this were truly the stone form of Elithir himself.


    Reaching for the statue, he dared place a single finger upon that cold, shaped stone. In that instant, a presence seemed to settle in beside his own thoughts. ¡°That did not go as I planned.¡± The words seemed to say. ¡°There were some unintended side effects of entangling myself across eternity.¡± It was Elithir¡¯s voice echoing in the chambers of his mind, calm but tinged with regret.


    ¡°Elithir? Is that you?¡±


    ¡°It seems entangling across time has the unfortunate side-effect of petrifying oneself. Or that is how it seems. I am not actually stone, merely a fixed point across time. Fixed and unmoving, frozen just like this. But in the far future, I have found the answer. I have found a way to fix myself. Although, alas, it shall not be for many eons until I will be able to do so.¡±


    Moraithe frowned, hand splaying across the surface of the stone, his heart heavy with the realization. ¡°So, how do we fix it?¡±


    Elithir¡¯s voice vibrated through his thoughts, steady but resigned. ¡°Entangling myself across all time bound me along these three dimensions. But if I were to be entangled across all of space as well, then I would be in all things and throughout all things. In short, all things would be mine, and I would have all power. I have long called myself Infinite, but only then would I truly become such.¡± A pause, a heavy silence. ¡°However, there are a few, narrow places we must pass through to get to that point.¡±


    Moraithe blinked, struggling to come to terms with Elithir¡¯s petrification. ¡°Like what?¡±


    Elithir¡¯s presence seemed to shift slightly, the tone of his voice darkening with the weight of what was to come. ¡°The Amnesia Bomb.¡±


    Moraithe stared at the stone face, struggling to process what he had just heard. ¡°Sorry, what did you say?¡±


    Elithir expounded, his words becoming more precise, ¡°Really, it is more of an Entropy Bomb. But the effect on most people will be complete and total amnesia, destroying them, body and mind, regressing every soul back to where they were in the beginning before you woke them.¡±


    Moraithe took a step back, his stomach turning. ¡°Wait. Before anyone knew one another? Before I woke them? How could¡ª¡±


    ¡°But I think we can find a way to soften the blow,¡± Elithir interjected quickly, the urgency in his tone not lost on Moraithe. ¡°If we can bend time in such a manner that they overlap at the moment of the blast, the entropy will be somewhat diffused. It will still cause amnesia, but in lesser repeating waves¡ªno worse than what Throm¡¯tor put you through.¡±


    Moraithe¡¯s eyes widened as he replayed the horror of Throm¡¯tor¡¯s spell in his mind. The confusion, the lost moments, the sense of time slipping through his fingers. So much loss. ¡°Ah, no worse than that ¡­ great.¡±


    Elithir¡¯s voice softened, though it carried the weight of endless eons of contemplation. ¡°It will at least allow civilization to continue in some form until we can fix this whole thing.¡±


    ¡°How are we supposed to handle that, facing amnesia again and again and again.¡±


    ¡°Remember what I always said.¡± Elithir somehow seemed to mentally pat his shoulder. ¡°Resistance yields growth.¡±


    Moraithe nodded, considering. ¡°But amnesia takes away power.¡±


    ¡°It will be a different kind of training, not for the mind, but for the soul. Soul training expands how quickly you gain self-assurance. It is excruciating, but is also the secret to my strength. And you have a head start. Of all people, you can handle this. You¡¯ve faced it before.¡±


    The words hung in his mind, heavy and certain. Moraithe glanced up into the stone eyes of the statue of Elithir¡ªno, of Elithir himself, the Infinite now trapped in his own entanglement. And for the first time, Moraithe realized how truly fragile time, space, and life itself could be. He was nervous, and this time even Elithir¡¯s presence could not calm him.

 Grains of Broken Memory

    <blockquote>[Fifth Era ¨C Year 1257 of the Divinity War; remains of the First Star, ruins of Arkand]</blockquote>


    Worlds apart, Nazrin still heard my need, only her heart was wide enough to listen ¡­


    Strange visions flitted across that haunted wasteland of sand come dawn, phantoms of shadow and dust swirling across the dunes, unidentifiable creatures skittering in and out of the bone-white sand. She walked not alone when I spotted them, her golden hair braided with thousands of ribbons of mourning¡ªveiling her face, streaming in the wind¡ªgold, red, orange, and silver, like an encompassing fire as it caught the dawn light, remembering souls she could not.


    The wind hissed, its voice a low hum, as if the desert itself was alive, breathing. Nazrin sang, yet the parched dunes swallowed her tune, leaving only spectral whispers on the wind.


    Nazrin¡¯s lone companion trudged on behind, a well-knit man, holding a mystic grin, whose name ought to be as familiar as breathing. Fragmented memories strained, fire in the mist, temptation marks upon a face¡ªGwyff, Jestil, Viinsen, Ravewik, Moraithe ¡­ which name was his? All of them? Despite the desert, he wore winter boots, and thick woolen robes, bordered with eyelets to lace or clasp or tie however he desired. Kajin robes, that was what they were called. The robes twisted around his body, leaving his arms bare, the excess fabric gathered in the front and tied in a switchback pattern.


    Fatigue was evident in Nazrin¡¯s face. Dust streaked across her skin like war paint, exhaustion in her posture. She had always been so firm, so resolute. But even she had limits. And this endless expanse was pushing them both to the edge.


    The hawk whose vision I shared suddenly screeched a call to its master, the hunter. I could not stop it, for I did not control the beast, merely borrowing its senses, but perhaps I could warn her.


    She spotted the hawk, and I reached out, now blind without the hawk¡¯s eyes, strained farther, into her eyes, thoughts, and senses.


    After so long, she was finally there. I felt her warmth, the fiery wind parching her eyes, the cold sand, still shaded by the dunes, as it engulfed her feet. Every grain of sand beneath them felt like a test of endurance, every breath thick with dust and burgeoning heat. I embraced her soul, and she seemed to sense it.


    ¡°Somehow, he feels close,¡± she called back to her companion, Jestil. ¡°We must find him before a sandstorm scatters him across this endless waste.¡±


    Jestil¡¯s boots crunched in the coarse sand, his eyes scanning the horizon, ever wary. ¡°Find the singing sand,¡± he muttered, repeating the words I¡¯d placed in both their hearts. ¡°How is sand supposed to sing?¡±


    ¡°Like this.¡± And again she sang, the words now reverberating on the air, so familiar, and yet so strange.


    Each grain another memory,


    Sand sea of broken reverie.


    Relics of oblivion


    Which we have lost our stories in.


    Her words sent my sand shifting. I fed her song back into her mind, an echo as if far ahead. Subtly leading her to the ruins where I lay.


    As she topped a dune, I sensed them, their pursuers, creeping along in their wake. I pricked her senses, a threat from behind. She turned to see them now. A dust cloud rising, and not from wind. The hawk still circled high over them, marking them for their hunters. I plucked a string of dread in her heart, a warning.


    Jestil followed her gaze, his face taking on a mystic grin. ¡°They¡¯re early.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not our friends.¡± There was a pensive note in Nazrin¡¯s voice. ¡°Not yet. This is ¡­ something else. We must hurry.¡±


    ¡°What do you suspect ¡­ slavers? Or¡ª¡±


    ¡°Priests of the Severed?¡± Nazrin cut him off, her voice low, barely a whisper. ¡°In either case, we should run.¡±


    Jestil straightened, moving quickly to the edge of the dune. He peered into the rising cloud of dust, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Please not priests of the Severed. Not after what they did to us. Not after they took Irinai and turned her into that thing.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten,¡± she said, her voice biting. Her ribbons of mourning scintillating in the sunlight like flaming tears. ¡°But neither can we let them keep the truth buried forever.¡±


    Jestil ran a hand through his hair, looking torn between running and standing his ground. ¡°You think they won¡¯t come after us? They''ve already wiped out half our village. Life means nothing to them.¡±


    ¡°We can expose them.¡± Nazrin snapped back. ¡°That¡¯s what matters right now. The truth¡¯s here, I can feel it. And do you really think we could fight them? Priests of the Severed are beyond my blood.¡±


    Nazrin was only a countess with a self-assurance nearing four hundred thousand. And Jestil ¡­ she reached out to check his aura. He held the rank of duke, with a self-assurance of just under one million eight hundred thousand. It wasn¡¯t enough, not nearly enough. Many of the Severed¡¯s priests were at the rank of archduke or even prince. Vastly outmatching them both. Especially if they were priests of Barthum, the god of shadow. His power outstripped them all. None could stand against his terrible will.


    That left them only one path¡ªonward.


    She resumed her song and I the echo, leading her toward their destiny. Their breaths grew ragged as for hours they rushed across those barren wastes, as both sun and sand grew hot. Stalks of some kind were sticking out of the sand ahead, a large swath of now-dried husks. Nazrin¡¯s lips quirked in the faintest of smiles, but it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°There was a field here. Crops. Recently swallowed by the sand.¡±


    A silo stood broken in the distance, grain spilling out, mingling with the desert sand.


    Jestil glanced back. ¡°They¡¯re still following us.¡±


    Nazrin twisted, her gaze tracking his. ¡°Mounted too. Even at a countess-ranked pace, they¡¯re gaining.¡±


    ¡°They must be powerful indeed. I fear you are right, we cannot match them.¡±


    Nazrin¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°We need to outsmart them. This desert has more secrets than they know.¡±


    ¡°It looks like this is their home. We¡¯ve never set foot here before, not in my memory.¡± Jestil gave her a grim look. ¡°I doubt we know more of this place than they do.¡±


    ¡°Then we must regain our memories before we are caught.¡± Her mind raced as she scanned the dunes.


    ¡°Not just memories, we need a way to stand against them.¡± Jestil waved a hand at the vast expanse around them, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and fear. ¡°We''re running out of time. This is our last chance against the Severed. If their lies stand, they win.¡±


    Nazrin looked back at him, her face weary, but her eyes flashing with that familiar defiance. ¡°We¡¯ll recover the truth, and with it power they can¡¯t take from us. Power the Amnesia Storms have stolen.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t be easy, not after all those they¡¯ve killed to silence the truth. All the manuscripts and relics they¡¯ve consumed ¡­¡± Jestil shook his head, thinking of the strange offerings the Severed demanded¡ªobjects with a history. So many offered their journals and mementos willingly.


    Nazrin and Jestil continued their flight across the endless stretch of desert, the sun an unforgiving weight above them, the sand shifting beneath their boots. The air was thick with heat, a constant blaze that left their mouths dry and their bodies aching, but it wasn¡¯t the desert that gnawed at Nazrin¡¯s soul. No, it was something far more insidious.


    She looked at Jestil, her voice rising with frustration as if the very act of speaking might expel the bitterness that had built up inside her. ¡°You know what burns me the most? It''s not the heat. It''s not the endless sand.¡± She kicked a loose stone out of her path, watching it roll across the dunes. ¡°It''s how everyone buys into the lies. The Severed''s priests¡ªthey''ve got everyone wrapped around their fingers. They walk through the Amnesia Storms like they''re gods themselves.¡±


    Jestil¡¯s gaze shot to her, brow furrowed in disbelief. ¡°You think they¡¯re immune to the storms?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps not immune.¡± Nazrin¡¯s voice dropped low, bitter. ¡°But they¡¯re shielded by them. The Severed¡ªwhoever they were, whatever they were¡ªmake sure their priests are untouchable, make sure we forget everything. Every truth, every history, every mistake. They get to keep their power, while the rest of us? We''re left scrambling in the dust, fighting to hold on to what little we can remember.¡±


    Jestil stopped, shaking his head, as if to ward off the heat that wasn¡¯t just the sun¡¯s but something darker, deeper. ¡°And no one sees it? No one figures out the trick?¡±


    Nazrin¡¯s laugh was short, almost hollow. ¡°Because it¡¯s easy. It¡¯s easy to believe when you¡¯re told the same thing every day. ''The Severed protect us, the Severed give us purpose.'' No one remembers a time when it was different. No one wants to. Who would? Who wants to admit they''ve been fed lies for their whole lives?


    ¡°And once they¡¯d replaced history with their lies¡± Nazrin mused aloud, ¡°it must have been easy for the Severed to take control of everything. After all, they were the ¡®benevolent gods who gave great power to those who served them,¡¯ to all their worshipers.¡±


    Jestil scoffed. ¡°The audacity to pretend to be benevolent after all the souls they had enslaved, whittling away at their power until they were nothing.¡± Jestil shook his head. ¡°And those worshipers only retain power as tools to carry out their will, nothing more.¡±


    Nazrin fell back to run alongside him. ¡°The way they control power, the way they manipulate people¡ªit¡¯s poison. We can¡¯t forget Irinai, though they call her by another name¡ªwhat they did to her? What they did to us?¡±


    ¡°I refuse to call her by that name¡± Jestil''s jaw tightened. He looked away, swallowing the anger that rose at the mention of his twin sister, Irinai¡¯s name. ¡°You think I don¡¯t remember? The way they poisoned her mind, turned her against the truth, against us, and when they taught her that terrible power. No one should see their loved ones turned into such a thing. If only we could convince her of the truth. They¡¯ve got their claws in everything, and if we don¡¯t take power¡ªreal power¡ªoutside their control, it¡¯s over.¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Nazrin clenched her fists. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here, Jestil. We find the singing sand, we get the truth. Reclaim our memories ¡­ and hers, and with them¡ªpower.¡±


    He cast a sidelong glance at her. ¡°But what if it¡¯s already too late? What if we don¡¯t find it in time?¡±


    ¡°We must. Here at the edge of hope, there is only one last chance to gain power that¡¯s not tainted, dependent on them. Only one possibility to restore the truth, rediscover their enemy¡¯s plan, and reclaim what we¡¯ve lost.¡±


    Exhaustion racked their muscles as they ran on, the blistering heat pressing on their backs, but Nazrin felt something shift inside her. Something like the first breath of a storm, brewing on the horizon. Determination. She would free the truth, free them all.


    She resumed her song as I stirred within her.


    Come raise your shattered souls


    seek truths that entropy divest


    and lean upon my shoals


    Let my wits bequeath you rest


    I ease your cankered minds


    which darkness does infest


    I heal that which blinds


    heap strength on the distressed


    Echoing her song, I led them as they endured their sprint across the stubble-covered dunes. Until, from a distance, strange features peeked out amid the waves of dried stalks and sand.


    A maze of worn pillars compassing a broken throne lay half buried in sand, all treasures long since stripped away. Nearby, a scraggly tree clung in the cracks of some long-buried floor stones, refusing to succumb to the desert. Recent ruins, the remnants of a barn, and the stubble of sand-buried fields bordered the ancient ruins.


    Jestil, huffing beside her, was equally focused, his jaw clenched in quiet determination. His eyes darted between the sand and the remains of what looked like a village swallowed whole by the desert. Stalks of withered grain jutted out of the sand like the bones of a long-dead animal, and the skeletons of barns and silos were half-buried, as though nature itself was trying to erase them from memory.


    He pointed to a darkness on the horizon. ¡°A sandstorm is building in the west. If it reaches us before our pursuers we just might lose them.¡±


    Nazrin¡¯s eyes narrowed at the storm on the horizon. ¡°No. That is the earthstorm, their weapon against the Severed invasion. I¡¯m not sure we can survive it.¡±


    ¡°All the more reason to hurry. We find the singing sand, regain our power, and make sure no one can rewrite history again.¡±


    Jestil exhaled sharply, frustrated but resolute. ¡°If we don¡¯t get caught first. And if we don¡¯t die out here in the process.¡±


    Nazrin smiled a dangerous, tired smile. ¡°Then we keep moving. You and me, Jestil. We¡¯re going to find it. We¡¯re going to take that power. Together.¡±


    Nazrin resumed her song and I joined, leading them onward. There, to an etched millstone, sideways in the sand, a circular monolith against the rolling horizon.


    As they approached, Jestil studied the designs etched into the millstone. ¡°There are words written on it.¡± He stepped closer to examine the stone. Even if it hadn¡¯t been desecrated he could not have deciphered the tongue. ¡°It¡¯s like someone bore a hole right through an ancient monument.¡±


    They didn¡¯t know what had happened, so I fed her the memory of the tragedy, one of the few I still understood. And all the mourning in my soul for the loss of my people came with it.


    Nazrin staggered, groaning. ¡°To use a Law Stone as a millstone ¡­ No wonder these people were cursed.¡±


    ¡°What people?¡± Jestil asked.


    ¡°The ones on whom we tread. Those who became sand for their sin.¡±


    He froze and glanced to his feet as if suddenly spooked by the white sand. Bone white. His gaze stretched out across a land covered in sand as far as the eye could see. So much devastation. ¡°Why would they do such a thing?¡±


    ¡°The Severed lied to them, and the people didn¡¯t know any better.¡± Nazrin¡¯s ribbons of mourning fluttered in the breeze, blazing in the sunlight like flames of endless grief.


    Jestil shook in rage. ¡°This is what they do. This is why we must stop them.¡±


    ¡°When memory is lost, so is much wisdom,¡± Nazrin whispered, her voice almost a prayer.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got to stop the Severed and their priests.¡± Jestil kicked the sand in frustration. ¡°These people, their light once shone across the universe. Then, when they were vulnerable, the Severed priests come, gain their confidence, lie, and teach them that their selfish deeds will bring them happiness, when all it does is destroy the world around them, and ultimately themselves in the process.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve all been lied to. We¡¯ve all fallen victim to deceit. It¡¯s heartbreaking, but we can¡¯t blame them.¡±


    ¡°Blame them?¡± Jestil shook his head, holding back tears. ¡°How do we stop this? It won¡¯t matter what truths we uncover if no one will believe us. Even the truth isn¡¯t enough when people don¡¯t know what to believe.¡±


    ¡°I have a plan.¡± Nazrin brushed a tear from his cheek. ¡°How did the First Star begin?¡±


    ¡°Well, they realized that the thing that truly makes people happy is to be loved. But love, like many resources, decreases when it is not shared. Only by sharing altruistic love can you increase the total supply of it. And that would benefit all. Selfishly trying to trick love out of others only damages the trust needed to build love. When people think of others, the total supply of happiness increases. When they think of themselves, it diminishes. It¡¯s simple logic, really.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we do. We make a new star, a true star.¡± She looked up at the sky as if she could see the stars beyond the bright sky. ¡°Now all that glitters in the night are counterfeits. My greatest desire is to help people realize that simple truth¡ªfor the greatest number of people to be happy we must share our love with one another. If we make a new star they will believe us.¡±


    Jestil leaned in with interest. ¡°But how will we do that?¡±


    ¡°We need to gather those who believe the same, create this world anew.¡± Nazrin gestured to the world around them. ¡°We need a revenescent city, a world even.¡±


    Jestil¡¯s brow rose. ¡°How will that help?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you remember this, but anciently new bodies used to be created in a revenescent, to protect them as they developed¡ªnow it¡¯s a womb or an egg, similar concept. If we are going to make something as delicate as a new star we will need to protect all those whom we gather to create it. We need refuge. Where better than a revenescent?¡±


    Jestil glanced back at the fast-approaching column of dust just over the dunes. ¡°Okay, but we need to hurry. Where is it?¡±


    ¡°Sing with me, Jestil. Let the sand¡¯s song guide us.¡±


    For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the desert¡ªuntil their voices joined together, ringing out in harmony. The song of the sand, the ancient song that held the truth of everything.


    As they sang, my sand now hissed and hummed the melody, vibrating out from under the Law Stone, where I had taken shelter, or what remained of me.


    Jestil gaped at my sand. ¡°It is singing.¡± His mouth formed that iconic mystic grin I knew so well.


    Nazrin knelt and swirled a finger through my sand. ¡°You still have the vial I gave you?¡±


    Jestil¡¯s hand rummaged through his robes. ¡°Right here.¡±


    Nazrin grabbed Jestil¡¯s arm, pulling him forward, urgency in her voice. ¡°Pour it onto the sand.¡±


    Jestil peered into the vial uncertainly. ¡°What is it?¡±


    Nazrin¡¯s voice fell low, ominous. ¡°Mithsyrium.¡±


    ¡°Truly?¡± Jestil gaped at the fortune at his very fingertips. ¡°And you want me to dump it onto the sand, waste it?¡±


    ¡°Only this sand.¡± Nazrin pointed to the blue-gray splash of my remains. ¡°The singing sand.¡±


    The man, Jestil, her many-named companion, obliged, pouring the contents slowly, reluctantly over my grains. It felt exhilarating, unsettling, and yet ¡­ blurry as if all my pieces were turning liquid and bleeding together. I was truly singing now, a hum that echoed from the hills.


    ¡°How much of your memory washed away during the last wave?¡± Nazrin asked.


    Jestil didn¡¯t answer her. Not now. Not when the desert was singing.


    ¡°His memory is written in stone.¡± She stood and glanced back in the direction of their pursuers, seeing only the approaching column of dust over the dunes she turned back to the sand. ¡°He does not forget. But he has been fragmented, a puzzle of scattered memories. Ours have been all but erased. Only the scratches of the quill remain, the palimpsest after all the ink has washed away.¡±


    ¡°I thought this was supposed to fix him, bind the shards back together ¡­ something. What can we do?¡±


    Strange words whispered to her as if from afar¡ªout of time itself. She gave them voice. ¡°Tell him your story.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t remember. I don¡¯t even know what I¡¯ve lost.¡± Jestil¡¯s voice came broken, forlorn. ¡°He¡¯s supposed to be my memory, and he¡¯s ¡­ dust in the wind.¡±


    ¡°I feel that somehow you¡¯ll have to remember together.¡± She crouched to gather a handful of the sand. Her voice took on a strange note as if she were speaking out of time itself. ¡°You remember nothing, not even Elizzin?¡±


    He knew that name. It sounded so ¡­ and I knew it somehow, as well. There were pieces, grains of me that thrummed at the name, but I couldn¡¯t fit them together.


    Jestil¡¯s brow wrinkled. ¡°Elizzin?¡± he uttered, as if in trance.


    ¡°The baby?¡± Nazrin said.


    Jestil¡¯s mouth gaped. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± Nazrin held out a handful of my grains, pieces of me. ¡°Hold. This. Sand.¡±


    As the first grain struck his cupped palm, a vision or a dream flooded his senses ¡­ and mine. A breathtaking girl spoke not in words, but images, illusions; and he responded in kind, light and images blossoming from the mist between them.


    Another grain struck his palm¡ªanother dream. Emerging from a slit of fire, into a palace bedchamber.


    Another dream. Corpses, dead men and women, raining from the sky.


    Another. Taking a hand and emerging into a different world.


    Again. Walking in a village upon a sun.


    Desperately leaping into a throne with someone else.


    Writing a contract.


    Holding a baby.


    A whirlwind blade.


    Living fire. Dying stars. Shattering crystals. Mist. Girl. Light. Beast. Embrace. Grief Kiss Hand Fire-Storm-Scream. Blur. The world whirled about in a storm of thoughts and memories.


    Too fast they came, hissing, in a torrent. His mind reeled until the last grain dropped, spilling over the edge of his cupped hand.


    Jestil¡¯s huffed in ragged gasps. ¡°What ¡­ what was that?¡±


    Nazrin¡¯s gaze pierced deep into him. ¡°A glimpse at all you¡¯ve forgotten.¡±


    Jestil staggered, nearly dropping my sand. ¡°Those were my memories?¡±


    ¡°Hurry¡± Nazrin glanced back over the dunes. ¡°You must tell your story.¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t remember. How do I even start?¡±


    She pulled out a bundle of items. Among them, he recognized a contract from the visions a moment ago.


    ¡°This is the original,¡± Nazrin said, ¡°the one you sent to Elizzin with a certain caravan guard.¡± So saying, she curtsied and then raised an eyebrow.


    This contract ¡­ it had been preserved somehow, not consumed by the Severed.


    She offered him the parchment. ¡°Start here.¡±


    ¡°But what does my story have to do with his?¡± He clutched my sand, swaying. ¡°Why tell him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember. You¡¯ll have to tell us all. But I know you can clear this confusion, help him put himself together. Confusion is the enemy of truth, and truth is the key to power. Why do you think the enemy wants everyone left in disarray?¡±


    Jestil blinked, considering.


    ¡°The Severed don¡¯t know how to really listen,¡± she muttered, her voice almost a prayer. ¡°Not like we do. This ¡­ this isn¡¯t just power. It¡¯s the truth. And that¡¯s something the Severed can never control.¡±


    A hawk screeched above them. Nazrin glanced up at the hawk still circling overhead. ¡°Best hurry. We need to go.¡±


    Jestil clutched my sand and stared down at the remaining pile. ¡°Then let¡¯s take the sand and run.¡±


    I sent her a vision of the five riders, so close.


    But Nazrin was already stepping forward, her hand hovering over the sand, drawn to it as if by an unseen force. She could feel the history within it¡ªthe echoes of all that had been lost, all that had been erased.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± she breathed, eyes closed, listening to the song, to the truth that it held. ¡°I need to hear it. We need to know what they¡¯re hiding.¡±


    The voices in the sand grew louder, clearer, and for the first time, Nazrin understood the song. It wasn¡¯t just a melody¡ªit was a history, a tapestry of forgotten worlds and forgotten people, and it held the secrets of the Severed. Of Barthum, and of the power he had stolen.


    ¡°Never mind.¡± Nazrin shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think we can outrun them. But we may have long enough to begin his healing ¡­ if you hurry.¡± Without a word, Nazrin pulled herself up, her fingers brushing one last time against the sand. The truth was waking. It was calling them forward.


    Jestil stood, motioning for her to move. The moment of reckoning was upon them. ¡°We¡¯re not just fighting for ourselves now. We¡¯re fighting for Irinai,¡± he glanced around at the bone-white desert sand, a tear brimming in his eye, ¡°for everyone the Severed¡¯s buried under their lies.¡±


    Nazrin nodded, fire in her eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s give them something to fear.¡±


    They took a step forward, their hearts pounding. The sound of the song grew louder, but so did the distant rumble of their pursuers. It was a race against time. And the desert would be their battlefield.


    ¡°I will hold them back. You must start the tale. Remember your strength. Tell your story.¡± Her gaze bore through all of his hesitation, his fear. ¡°Now!¡±


    Jestil stared at the contract and opened his mouth. He couldn¡¯t remember. I couldn¡¯t remember. But together we remembered, and the story tumbled out.

 Clutch A Desperate Plan

    <blockquote>[Fourth Era ¨C Year 1036 of the Divinity War; Sirithae (formerly known as Hopron), Valley of the Innumenary]</blockquote>


    Within that desert, the boy and I stitched together his memories, our memories, for they were the sum of my substance.


    There within the memory, Jestil¡¯s finely sculpted form moved along the palatial stone corridors with the confident grace of youth, his eyes twinkled like a shared secret held in sacred confidence between friends.


    As I moved into his memory, I knew him to be no ordinary lad. His consciousness split between two bodies at once, all sensation, thought, the sweet taste of each in-drawn breath, all doubled. He was Jestil, yet he had another life¡ªViinsen, then sleeping upon another world. A body whose back burned with strips of fire, a phantom pain here, to Jestil. A pain that even gratitude could not seem to heal.


    Yet his gaze searched as he rushed along, worry growing in his heart.


    This was all going so badly. Jestil knew he must have had a plan when he came to this world. From what little he remembered of himself he wouldn¡¯t have come here without a mission. If only he could remember it. He would have left a journal, but it was nowhere to be found. Had he hidden it too well? Or was it something worse? The Severed had been targeting him for so long. Perhaps they had something to do with this ¡­ with this whole disaster.


    He rushed down the corridors, torn between seeking Irinai, his twin sister, and desperately racing to reach the room before it was too late. Worries gathered like morning dew, an imperceptible heaviness.


    ¡°Jestil?¡± Irinai¡¯s familiar voice called from behind.


    He turned. ¡°There you are. I feared you¡¯d be hiding.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t the one whimpering in the pantry this morning.¡± She rushed to catch up to him.


    To hide the warmth in his cheeks, Jestil threw his arms around his sister¡¯s waist and picked her up in a rough hug. She squealed, so he released her. ¡°Hurry. We have to get there first if this is going to work.¡± He flung himself down the passageway.


    ¡°You¡¯re hurt aren¡¯t you?¡± Irinai observed, ¡°Something from your other life?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. Hurry.¡±


    The halls meandered without corners, edges, or straight lines, apart from the floors which ran perfectly level. The walls and ceilings were arches of glass, and within the glass sculpted stone had been shaped into the forms of trees and wildlife and the occasional shadowy figure. All the sculptures were encased within the walls of the glass corridor and colored glass painted the scene behind them. Fractal light from the sacred flame which burned beyond spilled through the glass, shining down like sunlight filtered through foliage. If it weren¡¯t for the floors it would have given the impression that they were passing along a wooded path.


    Yet, if he had to guess, the floors had been overlaid later, in another age. Those floors were covered in lithographic paintings that had been painted directly of stone itself in myriad varieties and colors, which must have been entangled with some kind of liquid, swirled and brushed together into masterful monolithic paintings.


    Running aggravated the phantom pain and stiffness of wounds down his back, wounds from another life, another mistake. Jestil ascended the stairs to the second level, taking them two at a time, wincing at the phantom pain.


    ¡°Slow down,¡± Irinai warned. Her lithe body danced around him with a grace that belied her unease. ¡°If the chamberlain catches you running in the manor house he could make it worse than Fane and Fraela.¡±


    Anger erupted through him. He nearly shouted. Oh, so close, the words came to the cusp of his lips, ¡®Worse than waking up with the weight of a boulder trying to crush you into a trunk half your size? Worse than being folded in two, unable to breathe, then suddenly being tossed and falling three stories to your death¡ªbut no, not death, you feel the rope catch, your stomach lurching nauseously? Aching, straining, struggling for breath, cramps wracking your muscles in torment for what seems like an eternity as the wind bounces you roughly against the wall?¡¯ But Jestil tamped down the words before they could come spewing out. And all he said was ¡°Who hangs a trunk out for laundry?¡±


    ¡°Okay, maybe not worse. But running in the corridors is beyond foolhardy.¡± Irinai patted him. ¡°Remember what the chamberlain did to Lilari last season. Lilari of all people.¡± Irinai¡¯s brow furrowed as she leaned to stare into his eyes. ¡°Jestil, I wasn¡¯t teasing. They did something to you ¡­ in your other life.¡± With a fingertip, Irinai scratched an indecipherable symbol on his shoulder. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    Jestil shook his head ¡°Not now. We have to focus.¡±


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asked.


    ¡°We¡¯d better hurry. The plan won¡¯t work if they get there first.¡±


    Jestil liked to look at the depictions of scenes on the floor as he passed and make up stories to go with the images. The stories differed based on which turn he took, his path or direction. It was a common game in their house.


    But not today, they tread across scenes of bygone glory, fear, and splendor, but no tales blossomed in his mind now, nothing more than the doom that awaited them if this plan failed.


    The overarching trees of glass and stone framed a figure before them, a little girl with her hair tied in purple ribbons staring at a plain river rock cradled in her hand.


    Jestil and Irinai paused before the girl.


    Irinai approached her. ¡°Lilari? What¡¯s the trouble?¡±


    ¡°Do you hear that?¡± Lilari¡¯s voice was strangely distant.


    "What?


    ¡°Weirdling noises, like wind and a song and something like sand in an hourglass, only bigger, like a hundred hourglasses.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t hear anything,¡± Irinai nodded at the rock that had enthralled Lilari¡¯s attention. ¡°What¡¯s that stone?¡±


    ¡°It was beside the ice mountain.¡±


    ¡°You mean in the ice house?¡± Jestil thought of Father, his cold body lying motionless. He shut out the thought.


    Irinai froze at his words.


    ¡°No.¡± Lilari glanced up from the stone, coming out of the daze. ¡°The ice mountain that all my friends have been playing on.¡±


    Ice mountain? The games of make-believe children played. ¡°Can I see it?¡± Jestil nodded at the ordinary river stone. Something about it ¡­


    ¡°For the normal trade. Give a trouble, take a trouble.¡± Lilari was always trying to get everyone in the manor house to help each other out, sharing troubles with each other as her form of trade.


    ¡°I thought that was when you passed out sparflit bread.¡± Jestil cocked his head.


    Lilari pouted. ¡°Family should help at every chance.¡±


    This was taking too long. ¡°Irinai, we must hurry,¡± Jestil reminded her.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± Irinai mussed Lilari¡¯s hair.


    They passed her and hurried along.


    Lilari spun to follow. ¡°Do you need my help?¡±


    ¡°Not today.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s an adventure.¡± Lilari bounced along their wake.


    Paintings passed beneath their toes¡ªthe battle of the hollow soldier, the leaping maiden, winter firestorm, ambush in the fog. Jestil found no story in them today.


    But then Lilari began to tell her own. ¡°Everything was still and quiet as they rushed through the battlefield. They¡¯d been tied up until they¡¯d found this sand. But how could it see? ¡®I know this battlefield,¡¯ the sand said, ¡®and have no need to see it again. It was mine in a distant time.¡¯¡±


    But they had already crossed several paintings.


    ¡°Seriously, someone should put pebbles in your shoes,¡± Lilari complained, ¡°you¡¯re going too fast. You¡¯re going to miss the story. And you just passed the cave. That¡¯s my favorite part.


    ¡°Oh, did I tell you Wurn and Surai found a cave under the manor? They claim it looked like a cellar room with two doors. They showed the chamberlain, but after they went to fetch him it was gone, filled in with dirt. So he thought they¡¯d been digging. They got cleaning duty for lying and for digging, but they promised they weren¡¯t doing either.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s terrible.¡± Jestil rushed up the stairs.


    ¡°Two at a time.¡± Lilari protested, standing at the bottom of the stairs. ¡°Hey, wait.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Jestil called back. ¡°We must hurry. I¡¯ll take two troubles next time.¡± For now, they had enough of their own.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather you give two,¡± Lilari called after them. As they left her behind, they heard her muttering, ¡°No one will take help lately.¡±


    But theirs was not the kind of trouble that could be shared. ¡°I¡¯d still like to see that stone,¡± he called back, almost as an afterthought. There was something about it.


    Irinai made it to the room first. Jestil shut the door quickly, nearly slamming it in his haste. A large thick carpet squished below his feet, expertly woven to mirror the stars and nebulous clouds that filled the night sky.


    The room was vertigo itself¡ªstars below, a fiery pit above. Like the halls, the vault of the room was made of sculpted stone and glass, the glass made a smooth vaulted dome, but the stone beneath it ¡­ it gave the impression of being upside-down over cliff walls that stretched down into some vast fiery abyss, except down was up, the depths of the pit sculpted at the apex of the vaulted ceiling. A stone figure of a man was inset into the glass of the ceiling with his arms spread as if he had just leaped from a door of fire into the pit and expected to fly¡ªit had to be the legend of Elithir from before he became the Infinite. The door of fire was real, however¡ªwhere the furnace of the sacred flame glared through a slit in the wall, its light dancing through the colored glass vault overhead, its heat pulsating throughout the walls of the manor house.


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    With his will Jestil whispered to the sacred flame, calming and cooling the living chaos.


    ¡°You brought the contract?¡± Irinai asked.


    ¡°Of course.¡± Jestil pulled it out from a fold in his kajin robes where he¡¯d clasped in a document pocket.


    ¡°Make sure it¡¯s not one you wrote.¡±


    ¡°Of course I wrote it,¡± Jestil said, handing her the contract.


    Irinai took it, her brow wrinkled, musing yet bemused. ¡°But I thought it couldn¡¯t bind you if you wrote it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not for me.¡± Jestil patted his robes and sent his hands searching through various pockets he¡¯d clasped into his kajin robes. ¡°It¡¯s for them, to bind them with an oath not to hurt or compel us.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t blame me when you don¡¯t explain the plan.¡±


    ¡°I would have if I¡¯d had the time.¡±


    ¡°Then hurry, block the door. Do that thing.¡± She pantomimed writing.


    ¡°One moment. I need my scribing needle.¡± He had little numen of his own, not like the Innumenary, yet he could perform an entanglement, given enough time and the proper conditions.


    Ah, that¡¯s right. He remembered being interrupted by the scribe and weaving the needle through the hem of his robes, so he would remember to clean out the blood, but he had forgotten.


    Hopefully, it hadn¡¯t clotted again, or his whole plan could fail. Nothing else would work, only his scribing needle. He knew from long experience that fingers, brushes, quills, or pens simply could not create fine enough details for a soul key.


    Jestil let the scribing needle drink from his fingertip before he began the soul shaping. He made a test line, blood flowed from the tip of the needle without clotting, and he hissed a relieved sigh. Then he began the intricate line of the key that would unlock his numen.


    He didn¡¯t know why the power was locked. Perhaps some cosmic guardian watched over the numen of entanglement, that to pass its gates he needed an ever-changing key, a key formed from his very soul. But how do you reshape a soul? He knew of only one way. It is in the blood. Soul clings to blood for some time after leaving the body. And so it was that he scribed the key in blood, to shape the soul, to unlock the numen, to bar the door, to halt his cousins and relieve them from reliving last night¡¯s terrors.


    As he scribed, Irinai began pacing the room like a caged lykanth. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize how long this would take.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never seen me write contracts?¡±


    ¡°Of course not, I would never watch any boy do that.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re watching me now.¡±


    ¡°I only glanced,¡± Irinai said, fanning herself with a hand. ¡°Besides you¡¯re my twin brother, it¡¯s different.¡±


    ¡°Does that make it better or worse?¡±


    She cleared her throat, then continued pacing. ¡°They could be here any moment.¡±


    ¡°It would help if you let me focus.¡±


    ¡°But how close are you?¡±


    Jestil frowned in concentration at the long, continuous line he was drawing. ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    ¡°How can you not know?¡±


    ¡°The soul key is different every time.¡±


    ¡°What? You¡¯ve never said.¡±


    ¡°I thought it was indecent to speak of such things. Somehow it changes, and good thing too, otherwise even heathen men could copy the ones left behind.¡±


    ¡°Then how do you know ¡­?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the reason so few men can. I have to feel it. I have to trust.¡±


    ¡°Trust what?¡±


    ¡°That it will lead me.¡±


    ¡°That what will lead you?¡±


    Jestil leaned in, squinting at that single complex line. ¡°Can I focus now?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re avoiding the question.¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t know the answer, alright.¡±


    Irinai stopped her pacing to watch him.


    ¡°Some whispered numen pours into me when I etch. It ¡­ well, it guides me somehow. I don¡¯t know. Oh, that¡¯s it.¡± He lifted his scribing needle from the door and offered a mystic grin.


    ¡°It¡¯s done?¡± She stepped closer to examine the intricate shape of the soul key.


    Jestil watched Irinai stare at the soul key. This time it reminded him of stars winking out from within a vast cloud. Irinai caught his gaze and blushed.


    Now the entanglement could begin. Still, blood would be required, for his soul was the binding element for each entanglement. And the soul was in the blood. It was the only way he knew to shape his soul, using blood.


    He swiped a single line of his blood across the gap between the door and the wall and bound it together.


    ¡°Are you sure it will hold against Fane?¡±


    ¡°Even against him.¡±


    ¡°What was I supposed to be doing in all of this? Your plan, your contract, your entanglement. I feel useless.¡±


    ¡°You can negotiate with them. It will sound better coming from you.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡± Gripping the contract, Irinai waited at the door, staring at that single line of blood. ¡°That line looks awfully small. And there is only one of them.¡±


    ¡°It will hold.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t hurt you to put more though. I mean, there¡¯s no reason you couldn¡¯t put a hundred right? You do remember this is Fane don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be more worried about the hinges failing.¡±


    ¡°Then can¡¯t you add some on that side as well? Maybe just surround the whole thing?¡±


    ¡°It will be fine. Stop worrying.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried. It¡¯s just such a thin door. Would it be possible to reinforce the whole thing?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s solid kornut, at least I think it is. And when have any of the doors in the manor ever failed? They were made by the Innumenary themselves.¡± Jestil turned his back to the door. ¡°Besides I¡¯ve reinforced it, the door is entangled with the wall. What more could you want?¡±


    ¡°Okay, fine. The door is fine. How is my voice? Does it sound ¡­ um ¡­ convincing?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll do fine. Perhaps you should stop waiting by the door. Sit. Relax.¡±


    She finally sat on the edge of Fraela¡¯s bed. But soon she was fidgeting with her hair. ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°How was it, being stuffed into a trunk and hung out the window?¡± she blurted.


    How dare she. ¡°Why would you bring that up now?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re going to do it again if this fails.¡± Irinai¡¯s snorted a mirthless half-laugh. ¡°I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d really do it. Especially not before Father¡¯s cloud burial.¡±


    That brought them both to silence.


    It had only been two days since Father ¡­ Jestil must have looked up from his scribe work a dozen times, expecting to find Father staring at him; or caught a glimpse of a figure through one of the lower windows and thought Father was coming.


    Jestil had even gone to see him resting in the ice house. Father¡¯s body hadn¡¯t decomposed, not in that cold. But something was severely missing. He was not napping. Jestil had seen actors at festivals fain death, illusions and paintings portraying it. He thought he knew what it looked like, but he¡¯d never imagined this vast, cavernous lifelessness. Nothing burned inside that husk. Nothing. Like pale ashes after even the coals have burned out.


    ¡°Why did he have to leave us to this?¡± He gestured to take in Fane and Fraela¡¯s room, which they now shared, kicked out of their old room by their father¡¯s death. Supposedly shared, though Fane and Fraela refused. It was two to a bed. He¡¯d never had occasion to ask which two.


    Sleeping with the giant Fane could get him crushed into oblivion. Plus imagining those massive, smelly feet in his face. He shuddered. But then sleeping beside his twin sister ¡­ he supposed if he had to sleep with anyone¡¯s feet in his face he wouldn¡¯t mind if they were hers. But it wouldn¡¯t be decent.


    He thought of Irinai¡¯s friend, Elizzin, and wondered what her feet smelled like. But he could only imagine spring rain and berries on a sun-touched meadow and over it all the scent of winterblossoms. Surely no one¡¯s feet smelled like that ¡­ why was he thinking of Elizzin anyway?


    Since she¡¯d turned snobbish he¡¯d completely lost interest¡ªyes, completely. But sometimes he thought of her from before, when she was younger and sweeter, and far less beautiful. When they¡¯d played tune juggling, ring-round-run, or hide-and-seek beneath the stalls of the merchants, who had hollered at them whenever they were discovered.


    The entangled door, and even the glass and stone wall itself, shuddered as if a great bulk had struck it with force. A grunt of surprise accompanied the sound, followed by a muttered curse. And then the pounding began in earnest.


    Irinai cautiously approached the door, from the left side, as if fearing it would explode across the room, or at least fly open at the blows of those massive fists.


    Several steps back from the door she turned to Jestil and mouthed ¡°Are you sure you can hold it?¡±


    ¡°The wall is taking those blows,¡± Jestil whispered back, ¡°not me. All I have to do is keep them entangled.¡± Surprisingly no cracks had formed in the glass of the wall from the force being exerted upon it.


    Her oblique gaze showed little confidence in his words.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t let go.¡±


    Irinai gathered herself and turned to the door. ¡°Fane is that you?¡±


    ¡°What have you done?¡± Fane¡¯s words were not a shout, though they boomed throughout the room. ¡°Open this door.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I just need you to make this contract first. Then you can come right in.¡± Irinai managed to keep most of the tremors out of her voice. Then she slid the contract under the door.


    But it was Fane¡¯s sister Fraela that responded. ¡°You think a little piece of ¡­ of ¡­ paper will protect you from us, after this? Barring us from our own room. We¡¯ll be back.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ll be dead,¡± Fane added.


    This could be very bad. What if they never made the contract? They couldn¡¯t stay there forever. He¡¯d made no plan for their chores or provisions. Fane and Fraela could just find another place to sleep out the night, but he and Irinai were trapped until they either starved or surrendered.


    How long would they leave him trapped in that trunk this time? Or would they just drop it to the ground, break him into a million pieces? Or maybe leave the trunk out in the morthel wilds to be clawed apart and devoured.


    The trunk. Jestil opened the horrid thing.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Maybe I can rig it for escape.¡±


    A horrified look filled Irinai¡¯s face. ¡°You said this would work.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know. If I entangle these parts ¡­ bend this ¡­ dissolve that, I¡¯ll be able to pull the hinge right out.¡±


    ¡°Jestil, don¡¯t tell me ¡­¡± Irinai sat on the edge of the bed and started to bounce her legs. Then she got up and smoothed the bed linens. She lay back for but a moment. ¡°How can they stand that ceiling, I feel like I¡¯m falling upward.¡± She sprang back onto her feet. ¡°Oh, I know, we can clean the room, and surprise them. We¡¯ll say it was our plan all along! The contract was just a joke to give us time.¡± She rushed around the room dusting with the hem of her kajin robe.


    Using an entanglement, Jestil got to work on the trunk. It didn¡¯t take as long as he¡¯d feared. Yet, if he held too many entanglements at once he could end up with chaos sickness. And the cost of that could be very dire, or very strange. Either way, he would be risking delirium, which may not be the worst possible result of chaos sickness. Spontaneous combustion seemed pretty bad; it was the one he feared the most, for certain.


    Irinai had stopped her frantic cleaning and stood watching him again. ¡°Won¡¯t he just shove you in a different trunk? And where will he put me?¡±


    The other trunks were full, but it was possible.


    ¡°Perhaps I should do them all.¡±


    When he reached the third trunk, he found it locked. Of course he could remove the hinge from the outside, once he¡¯d opened it he would reverse it to the inside.


    After some effort, he pulled the hinge free and the lid open. Peering inside, he stared down upon a seven-sided box made of some strange golden wood, inlaid with white crystals, wrapped with golden wire seven times around each of its seven sides in a star pattern.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Irinai asked.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a spirit trap.¡±


    ¡°Like in the stories? Release a spirit he¡¯ll give you a boon?¡±


    Jestil paled. ¡°That¡¯s what they say?¡±


    Irinai frowned. ¡°You must have read Harfool and the Hallow Tree? Or at least Kiss of The Siberdean?¡±


    ¡°I read history, not children¡¯s stories.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not children¡¯s stories ¡­ well, not entirely.¡±


    ¡°The Severed must have possessed some fool to write them. Teaching children to release their accomplices,¡± Jestil scoffed.


    Irinai folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Then what are you supposed to do with a spirit trap?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re weapons, prisons from the old war, The Divinity War. A few Severed princes were trapped inside them.¡± He picked it up and turned it over. ¡°If they were set free it would be a disaster beyond imagining.¡±


    There was a hole torn right through the side of the trap, and it bulged outward as if something had escaped through it. Jestil gaped, a sick dread spreading through him. The soul trap was torn open. Someone had released it and likely gotten themselves possessed in the process. Worse, they had begun the war all over again.


    Irinai stared at the hole in the spirit trap. ¡°I think you might be the only one who hasn¡¯t read those ¡®children¡¯s stories¡¯.¡±


    ¡°If he was possessed that could explain ¡­¡±


    Then he spotted the journal at the bottom of the trunk. Fane¡¯s journal.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to read it are you?¡±


    ¡°How else do you expect me to find out which of the Severed he unleashed? Besides, the Amnesia Storm didn¡¯t leave much else behind for us to remember.¡±


    ¡°If he finds out you¡¯ve ¡­¡± Irinai looked around and saw the window. She opened the shutters and looked down at the three-story drop. Then she looked up.


    Jestil opened the journal. ¡°Wait.¡± This writing, it looks so much like ¡­ his memory strained and faltered. But one thing he knew ¡­ ¡°It¡¯s not his.¡±


    Fane¡¯s voice boomed through the wood of the door. ¡°Here it is.¡± A contract was slid back under the door. ¡°Now open up.¡±

 A Scream of Silent Sand

    <blockquote>[Fifth Era ¨C Year 1257 of the Divinity War; remains of the First Star, ruins of Arkand]</blockquote>


    Nazrin shook Jestil from the memory. ¡°They¡¯ve come.¡±


    Liminal veils of thought parted. Jestil recalled his pulsing blood, the sensation of joints and limbs, the desolate taste of the desert air.


    His skin tasted of warm flesh and salty sweetness. Feeling refreshed and alive from remembrance, my sand had inadvertently crept over his hand. Yet I thirst for knowledge, memory.


    Sunlight had climbed the sky and with it, heat. Shadows had fled to stubs of darkness. Wind, however, persisted, and darkness grazed the horizon.


    Jestil¡¯s senses nettled, not merely dread, but actual physical pain.


    A hawk soared over them as the five riders now crested a dune. It seemed one of the cloistered had been modifying sea creatures, for the beasts that scuttled across the sand looked like serfgorths modified into desert mounts. His nerves curdled at their approach.


    From their auras, he could tell that each of them either matched or outclassed him in terms of self-assurance. Outnumbered and outmatched, he and Nazrin had little recourse.


    The many fiery veils braided into Nazrin¡¯s blonde tresses obscured her face until she turned into the wind. She spotted a fallen stone, a fragment of the ruins, a little larger than her fist. With a deft hand, she untied the sash at her waist. Grasping one side of the cloth with the last three fingers, she pinched the other end with her thumb and forefinger and cradled the stone in its loop.


    By the time the riders reined in, the pain was far beyond unmistakable. A visceral torment in his flesh. What was causing him such pain, which seemed to grow as the riders neared?


    Nazrin began swinging her makeshift sling in a circle on her right side, building momentum. The riders halted, two women and three men, garbed in the loose robes of desert dwellers. Once halted, both groups studied one another. But Nazrin¡¯s sling only gained momentum.


    Jestil¡¯s pain seemed to radiate from the leftmost rider, a girl with a sunburst scar surrounding her right eye as if by some small explosion while her eyes had been protected by goggles. Her hair flowed like molten copper in the wind while she swayed uncomfortably in her saddle.


    She glared darkly upon him, ignoring Nazrin and her deadly sling. Why do some faces seem so familiar, as if sand could conjure dreams he¡¯d never known? A clever tilt of her eyebrow, a sudden simper of her lips would have suited her. Instead, her glare harrowed his flesh.


    Why was she doing this to him? How was she causing this pain? Who was she? Thoughts caressed memory. In desperation, he grasped a strand, yet it frayed.


    Anger piled onto Jestil¡¯s rising sense of panic.


    Jestil leaped between Nazrin and the riders, hands splayed. Pain flared. ¡°Peace. We are gentle travelers. You can¡¯t harm us, and we won¡¯t harm you.¡± He slowly lowered his hands in a soothing gesture, offering them a mystic grin while signing for Nazrin to stop her sling. ¡°Remember the soul covenant. You don¡¯t want to corrupt your soul with their blood,¡± he mouthed the words.


    Soul covenant. Those words sent shivers of memory unspooling through my sand. A world on fire. No, a world of fire and light, shining out across the endless blackness. Upon the world a kiln, no, a home¡ªmy home. And within the home, an intricately sculpted child of lifeless clay. I pushed a finely etched parchment inside the yawning maw and up onto the roof of his mouth. Slowly, he transmuted and awoke. Moraithe? I called out for Moraithe, but none could hear me.


    Jestil dominated the space between Nazrin and the riders, fearless¡ªas he had stood against Thom¡¯tor, as he had climbed from infinitesimal reaching to infinite, as his voice still resounded into the infinite silence.


    My sand reached out for him. A child I had raised from clay. My child? ¡°Jestil!¡± But I had no voice.


    The sunburst-scarred girl, the source of Jestil¡¯s pain, spurred her mount forward. ¡°They think we have come to harm them.¡±


    The anger in her glare became hooks in his nerves. His flesh knotted in agony. What was this strange numen she used to torment him?


    ¡°Oh,¡± a rider in green said the words to her own mount, ¡°perhaps we are robbers, waiting for unsuspecting travelers.¡± She turned her mount¡¯s head to whisper to it, the words too silent to be heard.


    ¡°Or maybe they are the thieves,¡± the burly man in the center said. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re wondering.¡± That beard and that mustache, were they sculpted?


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    Jestil waved his hand. ¡°But you¡¯re the ones who chased us across this desert.¡±


    ¡°Father,¡± Jestil¡¯s tormentor, the green-eyed girl, interjected.


    The burly man with the oddly magnificent mustache looked at her and nodded.


    ¡°You appeared to us as strangers to this place. We came to warn you.¡± The girl, Jestil¡¯s tormentor, stopped glaring at him long enough to glance at Nazrin. ¡°Can¡¯t you read the wind? The earthstorm is coming. But there is shelter nearby if you will follow us.¡±


    Jestil retreated to Nazrin¡¯s side and noticed my sand pooled there, exposed to the storm. My sand could be scattered across the desert if they didn¡¯t do something. Jestil knelt and unlaced his boots, shielding his actions from the riders by his cloak. He began scooping my sand into his boots, and I strained to help, vibrating my sand deeper inside.


    ¡°And what assurance can you give us that this earthstorm is so dangerous?¡± Nazrin¡¯s sling lost some of its momentum. ¡°How can we trust you?¡±


    The girl frowned. ¡°Suspicion causes more trouble than any other malady that has passed between men.¡±


    ¡°Is it suspicion or the need for it?¡± Nazrin said. ¡°Is it not lies and deception which are the diseases that plague all societies?¡±


    ¡°Or does suspicion engender mistrust, and mistrust lead to lies? Some think they are wise, so they set wisdom aside and fail to trust the great wisdom that whispers inside their hearts. Does a circle have a beginning? If you will not show me trust, how can I prove my worthiness of it?¡± The tormentor girl looked to the west. A wall of sand and rocks gathered hundreds of feet tall. ¡°It is coming. Decide. Now. Or we will leave you to it.¡±


    ¡°I will keep the sling at the ready. But we will follow.¡±


    ¡°Then hurry. You must outrun the storm on foot. It will not be easy.¡±


    They raced behind the riders, but Jestil lagged. Nazrin took his hand to pull him along, yet he fell.


    ¡°What has your feet glued to the dunes? Hurry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the sand.¡± Jestil struggled to his feet. ¡°I took as much as I could, filled my boots.¡±


    ¡°Get up. We must go.¡±


    The storm was howling behind them. The wall of sand rushed on like some immense morthel consuming all in its path.


    Falling behind, Nazrin tried to pull him along, but the sand and rocks swallowed them, and he fell. He was lost in the sand. It blasted his skin, scratched at his eyes, and clogged his nose and mouth as boulders pummeled him with lightning force. Gratitude healed him, but it did not stop the pain and disorientation. He pulled the excess cloth of his kajin robe over his face and struggled forward.


    It wouldn¡¯t kill him. He had more than enough gratitude, but he had already lost Nazrin. And who knew what she would suffer without him. The sand had disoriented him, but pain could be his guide. It could guide him to his tormentor.


    He strove toward it, making little headway with boots full of sand. Then, as the pain intensified, he realized he¡¯d been traveling faster than he¡¯d imagined. No, she must have circled back for him. Why?


    An eye glared at him within a sunburst scar. His tormentor cried out, ¡°Take my hand.¡±


    He was in pure agony when he reached out to take it. But her touch was a blistering fire filleting his nerves. He writhed uncontrollably.


    His grasp refused her, like trying to hold onto red-hot iron. His hand began to slip. Though he trembled, he redoubled his grip, and hers tightened as well. She pulled him up behind her.


    Any separation, even the cloth of their robes, was a relief compared to the agony of any contact with her flesh. And yet, he could only marginally restrain himself from weeping.


    She called back to him, something unintelligible, yet he thought he caught the word pain. ¡°Why?¡± Was all he could ask? Why come back for him? Why torture him? What was she trying to do to him?


    When she turned her head, he swore he saw the tracks of tears through the dust on her cheek.


    A bolder slammed into their mount, nearly knocking them all over. But something, the remnant of a memory, an instinct, told him he could protect them. He held the gratitude inside him, and he pushed it outward to envelope them. The rocks and sand pinged off the edges of his shield with a grinding sound, loud pops, and occasional booms, but his shield held firm. It was all he could manage under the weight of so much pain.


    Something glinted like water ahead, occasionally peeking out between the dunes. Without warning, they were riding along some kind of dry river bed that snaked along a swath of firmer earth, land stripped bare of sand, as if the wind had already taken it.


    His tormentor shouted and spurred their mount. The sand seemed to part when he spotted the oasis, eyes burning from the sand still in them. Their mount was beginning to struggle, but neither storm, nor mount, nor rider stopped. They rode on straight into the water.


    Jestil held his breath as they plunged in. Yet the only relief was not from water, but separation as he lost his grip on his tormentor and floated away from her, his pain easing with distance.


    The water was deeper than he¡¯d expected. And when he opened his eyes, there was an underwater cave ahead. His tormentor and her mount were swimming toward it. He followed the pain and rushed after them, but it vanished. The torment vanished.


    He basked in the sweet feeling of painlessness until his lungs began to burn, begging for breath. Finally, he followed, swimming into the cave and up. He fought the desperate instinct for breath until he broke the surface. And with a pain that slammed him to his knees, the torture resumed.


    As he drew breath, he stared up at that strange sky. No sandstorm blotted out these heavens. And yet, neither did anything else. Torches lit a path through a blank night, devoid of stars. Somehow, it was suddenly night, but no moon greeted him, only pain.


    His tormentor awaited at the water¡¯s edge, glaring at him through that sunburst scar. ¡°Despite what you¡¯ve done to me, I have saved you. You don¡¯t know what it cost, what I endured for you out there. How can you delight in tormenting even your savior? Pray, end this curse.¡±


    ¡°My curse?¡± Jestil was bewildered. ¡°You¡¯ve been torturing me.¡±


    ¡°Me!?¡± Her brow furrowed, then softened as realization dawned. ¡°You¡¯re not doing this?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know you. Why would I want to torture you? Why would I torture myself?¡±


    ¡°What could cause ¡­ Clearly something unaccounted is at work.¡± Her sunburst-scarred gaze firmed. ¡°A mystery for later. Follow.¡±