ã€ŠTenebroum (Book Four Stubbing April 25th)ã€‹


 Ch. 01 - Blood Money

    Tenebroum (Noun): A place cut off from the light.

    <hr>

    Riley ambushed his partner while they slogged through the mud, dragging their raft higher onto the shore. He shoved a foot and a half of dull steel into Cutter¡¯s side while the man''s hands were full of rope.

    The struggle that followed was brief, and by the time Riley had finished gutting Cutter like a fish, he barely had the energy to cry out in pain. All he could do was cough up blood and lay in the mud while he tried to hold his entrails in. He didn¡¯t even have the strength to stop Riley from rifling through his pockets for the map and whatever else he might have had on him.

    ¡°Two shares is good, but one share is better, don¡¯t you think, chum?¡± Riley asked, smiling that rotten smile as Cutter¡¯s blood poured into the swamp water, and his world faded to black.

    That should have been it for poor old Cutter. A bad end for a bad man. It wasn¡¯t, though.

    Even though he was dead, Cutter¡¯s spirit stood over his own corpse, watching while his partner mutilated his body for a few more coins. He couldn¡¯t do anything to stop it as Riley broke fingers to get his rings off and followed that up by bashing him in the face a couple times with the hilt of his blade to pry loose his two gold teeth.

    Riley wasn¡¯t any gentler when it came to getting rid of Cutter¡¯s body. He just shoved the hole in his guts full of stones before dragging him into three feet of water and letting him sink into the murk of the fen¡¯s deep mud where no one would ever see him again.

    Cutter might have done the same thing, of course; waste not, want not, and all that. He would have had the good sense to wait until they¡¯d gotten the gold out of the swamp and downriver, though. Killing anyone before you had eyes on the goods was about the dumbest thing a thief like Riley could do, but that didn¡¯t stop him from doing it anyway.

    Cutter¡¯s memories didn¡¯t stop even after his eyes were blinded forever and his lungs filled with water. Things just kept right on going after that. Cutter even smiled as he watched the look of horror bloom on that weasel¡¯s face when he opened the blood-soaked treasure map and found it hopelessly ruined. That memory would last forever, even after the names and details of everything else dissolved in the murky water. Even after the carp and the crawfish reduced him from a feast to a skeleton a little more every day, he would never forget that moment of elation.

    Riley still dug for the treasure that day, just as they¡¯d planned to do together. He got close too. Painfully close. He found the traces of something buried and dug up the empty chest Cutter had put down there as a decoy. The look of disappointment that bloomed on Riley¡¯s face when he opened it was grand but not half so satisfying as the rage that followed.

    Suddenly, the man exploded in violent fits that didn¡¯t stop until he¡¯d broken his shovel, beating the wooden chest while he shouted obscenities. If he¡¯d only dug two feet further, he¡¯d have found the bags of old imperial coins and grave goods they¡¯d stolen from those adventurers, but he didn¡¯t. The murdering bastard had stopped just short of the finish line.

    He left that day empty-handed, searching for a new shovel and a better plan.

    If he¡¯d left with the gold, Riley would have dragged it off to some city where he could live like a king for a few years, and the echo of the partner he¡¯d left decaying in the bog would have faded entirely. Cutter would have drifted away to whatever eternal reward awaited cutthroats and confidence men.

    That isn¡¯t what happened, though. Riley left the swamp with nothing but bloody hands and a couple gold teeth for his trouble. He¡¯d tried to steal everything but come away with almost nothing. That thought kept Cutter¡¯s wraith anchored where it was, basking in the misery of the murderer and anyone else who¡¯d come after his treasure.

    Things grew more jumbled after that. Days and nights blended together. Cutter blamed it on the mist as he stood there in his lonely vigil, clinging to the bitterness of his betrayal like a compass needle. If he wasn¡¯t going to get to spend that shiny on a lifetime of wine and women, then no one else would, either. After a few weeks, he wasn¡¯t really a person anymore or even a memory of a person. He was too diffuse for that. He was a handful of memories mixed with a need for vengeance that slowly spread among the bog¡¯s pools, drifting outward like poison.

    At first, he was stuck to the spot where he died, but as his blood drifted outward and the bugs that fed on his flesh wandered further afield, his reach widened. By the time he could reach the treasure he¡¯d so carefully buried deep in the muck, he could barely remember how they¡¯d swiped all that gold in the first place. He knew they¡¯d stolen it from adventurers that had pillaged it from an ancient crypt and that he¡¯d planted a deadhead log so Riley could ram it and sink their skiff on the way upriver.

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    Still, he couldn¡¯t remember quite how he¡¯d gotten those casks this deep into the fen. A few days later, he couldn¡¯t even remember that much. It didn¡¯t matter. He wasn¡¯t even a ghost anymore. He was a mist - a fog of greed that would never let anyone take the score he¡¯d died so unpleasantly for.

    The only thing that kept time for the spirit was Riley coming back over and over again. He spent months digging and searching on boggy island after flea-bitten sand bar without success. Day in and day out, he traipsed through the swamp, digging new holes where old holes had filled and faded away.

    It was enough money that he would have a hard time spending it in a lifetime, so it was worth finding, even if it took half a lifetime. Anyone might have done the same thing. Every day Riley looked for it, and every day Cutter¡¯s spirit fed the darkness growing there, though. Every time he raged in frustration at another empty hole, the treasure sank a little lower into the earth - forever out of his reach. It was these outbursts that fed the shade of his partner. He couldn¡¯t do anything but exist and hate. He couldn¡¯t defend the treasure or summon minions to do it for him. All he could do was watch and feed on the frustration of the man who searched.

    The murderer consulted soothsayers and arcanists. Sometimes he returned with little toys like dowsing rods and charms that did nothing. Occasionally he even brought the hedge wizards with him. The con artists spent days leading the bastard in circles, but the ones with a real gift only found a growing malignancy in those murky waters and left almost immediately, never to return. They sensed the light fading from this place as surely as the egrets that had stopped nesting here in the year since his betrayal.

    The dark waters and deep rushes were still full of life, but that life was changing. Ducks and cranes chose to land in other wetlands along the river, but Shoebills and Bloodbeaks were becoming more common in their place. The animals all sensed what Riley couldn¡¯t.

    The murderer didn¡¯t notice. Instead of running from the festering darkness, he built a place to stay atop the one place he was sure the treasure wasn¡¯t: the empty chest. It was a terrible excuse for a shack - just sticks lashed to sticks to make a place to sleep. The floor was a foot above the high-water mark, and the roof was thatched well enough that it mostly kept the rain off. The shanty had a large flat rock in the center, just big enough to make a small cooking fire without burning the whole place down.

    It was a sign that he¡¯d exhausted his meager savings staying in the nearby village, not that the shade cared. All it cared about was that, instead of feeding on its murderer for a few hours at a time, it could do it all day long now. Things became more vivid after that.

    The murderer could only spend half his time hunting for treasure because he had to spend the other half hunting or fishing for food, but that only made things worse for him. The more he ate of the swamp, the more he became a part of the swamp.

    The shade could touch him now. It could slide its fingers deep into the man¡¯s twisted little mind and fan the flames of greed so that he would never give up. In time the swamp discovered that all sorts of new torments became possible as well. It couldn¡¯t just make him stay - it could make him suffer. Those torments turned the trickle of life force he¡¯d been siphoning off his betrayer into a flood.

    Dreams were the easiest way to hurt anyone foolish enough to dwell in its depths. The shade could invade the murderer¡¯s dreams most nights when his defenses were lowest and force him to remember what he¡¯d done. The swamp couldn¡¯t remember those details anymore, but its murderer did.

    Most of the time, it could only remember that look of disappointment when the murderer realized the map had been smeared into illegibility by his partner¡¯s lifeblood. When it was in the head of his murderer, though.

    It could remember other things too. It could remember what it was like to have a name and hands. It could remember what it would feel like for his reanimated corpse to hold Riley¡¯s head under the brackish water until the bubbles stopped. It could teach the murderer things too. It could teach him what it felt like to be devoured by the denizens of the fen one tiny bite at a time. These dreams were almost always rewarded with screams as the murderer bolted up from his nightmares.

    The real nightmare was all around him, though, and because of that treasure, he couldn¡¯t leave. So, day after day, he sank further into the mud and the madness, and he fed the one thing he wanted to stay buried the whole time.

    After dreams came diseases. It was a harder thing to do that required the swamp to work through insects and spoiled food because it had no hands of its own. All it had was a desire to make its murderer suffer, and the best tool for that turned out to be sickness.

    The first fevers came on tiny wings. Malaria. Swamp shivers. Grey fever. For over a year, the murderer had managed to avoid all of them, but in the space of a month he was infected with all three, back-to-back. After that, the swamp let him recover from death¡¯s door just enough to avoid killing him before he followed with Giardia and Goblin Guts.

    Every day was hell after that, and every night was worse. Not just because he couldn¡¯t manage to keep anything down but because he was too sick to fulfill the need to hunt the swamp¡¯s treasure, and it ate at him as badly as the diseases did. Any sane person would have left by now, but there was no sanity in Cutter¡¯s Fen. There were only the dead and the damned.

 Ch. 02 - Those that Followed

    It didn¡¯t start out as a plan. The swamp couldn¡¯t plan because it no longer understood anything but now. It knew what more meant though, and it always hungered for more.

    It was those sentiments that filled the murderer¡¯s dreams. If there were more men like you to dig, then you would find it. If you hadn¡¯t killed your partner the two of you could look in twice as many places and you¡¯d already be rich by now. They were the regrets of a damaged mind infected by a hunger that could no longer be sated by a single victim. They were echoes of a person that no longer existed, but every night it found a thousand subtle ways to make the victim long for more hands to help him dig up the swamp. All he needed were a few slaves or even a small gang to help him tear the fen apart and find his ill-gotten gains.

    The murderer didn¡¯t notice how sick he was getting, or how the island he¡¯d built his hovel on had started to grow with the waste earth he brought back daily. All he could think about was his worn-out shovels and the strong backs he needed to dig more of this accursed soil.

    So, one day he left, and the swamp didn¡¯t even try to stop him. It knew that he would be back - no matter how long it took.

    The wraith followed him to the edge of its domain, surprised that it could see a small village from there, just across the lagoon. It had known it was out there somewhere, because sometimes they ate its fish or brought down its fowl, but the place itself had been an afterthought.

    Looking at it now, all the shade could make of it, was that it only had a few dozen souls at best. The swamp would have loved to devour them, but they were just out of reach and under the protection of a vague curtain of light that had to be the work of the divine. It could feel the sanctified land of their temple, even from this distance. So, for now the wraith would have to let it be, unless a fisherman was foolish enough to cast his nets too deep into its mire.

    The days blurred in the absence of a human mind to toy with, and so it drifted among the fog. For a time, all that the wraith cared about was that its treasure continued to slowly sink downwards. It had started out five feet under where the hovel now stood but was closer to twenty feet now.

    It had left the layers of mud and slime behind and was now buried firmly in the thick band of red clay that hid beneath the swamp for at least a league in every direction. No one would ever find its treasure now - the swamp was certain of that. After drinking deeply of intoxicating emotions like fear and madness though, the swamp had developed a taste for humans, and desperately wanted more.

    Then one day, there was a boat. No - there were several boats, paddling from the river that marked the edge of the swamp towards the lands of mist and darkness that the wraith alone held sway over. The murderer had returned, and with him came a large group of strangers. Many of them looked even less savory than the man that had brought them here.

    The murderer had certainly seen better days. He¡¯d left a frail and starving hermit looking for help to find the treasure he¡¯d sought alone for almost two years. He returned bound hand and foot - the victim of someone stronger who¡¯d smelled opportunity.

    The big man wasted no time and began barking orders before they¡¯d even arrived. Once they made landfall on the murderer¡¯s island, a handful of henchmen quickly stirred the slaves from their oars to start unloading everything they¡¯d brought with them.

    Within minutes there was more activity in the heart of the fen than there had the entire rest of the time the wraith had been aware combined. Boards. Tools. Food. Sandbags. It didn¡¯t know the words, but as the men communicated with each other it learned them. None of them had eaten or drank of the swamp yet - so they were mostly beyond its vaporous reach.

    That was fine. The wraith merely watched as they turned its very heart from a small and empty island with only a hovel, into a true campsite. That was when they strung up the murderer from a strong tree, lashing him to make sure that he hadn¡¯t forgotten anything before they were done with the lunatic.

    The swamp watched, and it feasted, enjoying the pain and despair as the light behind the eyes of the man that had murdered it so long ago finally went out. After he¡¯d hung there for a few hours someone finally cut him down, letting him splash into the water where the swamp could finally taste his flesh.

    It had waited years for this moment and would have waited years more if it had to. Now that the day had finally come though, there was a feeding frenzy as water rushed to fill the corpse¡¯s chest, dragging him below so that the catfish could nibble, and leeches could drain to their heart''s content. A pulse of power flowed through the wraith that it had never known before as the soul of another living human was dragged screaming from whatever its true destination was meant to be, into the dark heart of the bog.

    Its obsessions added to its own, and its need for gold only amplified the needs that were already there. The sensitive among the slaves could feel it, and made a sign against the evil eye, even as most of the rest of that motley crew let out a ragged cheer while the animals ripped the corpse to pieces and made the dark water bubble and froth.

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    When that grim business was done, and the waters were finally still, the newcomers turned to the business of keeping away the darkness. Dry wood was hard to find this deep, and what they¡¯d brought with them would only last so long, but for now they had enough to keep the shadows at bay.

    The swamp was in no hurry as it circled them. They would falter¡­ they would drink its water and eat its creatures, and then the wraith would worm its way inside their heads the same way it had with the murderer it had haunted for so long.

    Now there was a small part of it that wanted these betrayers to die as badly as it had wanted to feast on the murderer - but it would have to wait, because if the wraith ate at this group too quickly the rest would merely flee. They needed to be cultivated and allowed to dig until they caught the deadliest fever of all. The one that would keep them chained here for as long as it took to feast on them: gold fever.

    Their camp formed over days. The original hovel was leveled except for the posts and cross members that had held it up, then the floor was replaced by planks, and walls made of cloth were put up to keep the bugs out. It was in that room, almost out of its reach, they schemed while sandbars were dug up by the slaves and used to expand and flatten the main island.

    Shacks for the men and supplies, and canvas tents for the slaves quickly became the pattern. Two men kept watch every night and tended the fires, keeping the darkness at bay and weakening the swamp when it was at its strongest during the darkest hours of the night. It had enjoyed feasting on the murderer, but he was sloppy and careless. The shadows had found a thousand ways to worm into his soul, but now the swamp worried that these men and their precautions might be too much for it to devour.

    For a time, they were. The newcomers were cautious and methodical, eating the salt pork and ship''s biscuits they¡¯d brought with them while they kept up the fires and set about their methodical search plan, eliminating one island at a time in a slowly expanding spiral that turned up very little. Then one day the slaves got it in their head to supplement their meager rations with skewers of freshwater drum and carp.

    It started with a couple of them surreptitiously using a bit of line and a watch fire to feed the grumbling in their stomachs, but soon spread to most of the men. They devoured the flesh and spit out the bones, but worms and parasites that they contained, along with a touch of darkness - those persisted long after the meat was digested and passed. Those men didn¡¯t belong to it yet, but in time, they would.

    Soon it was feeding off their dreams, taunting them with visions of gold, or even better - escape. Days of hard work and nights of treasures they would never have soon wore down even the strongest of them, and the whole time the darkness of the swamp gorged on it all.

    After almost a month of fruitless searching came the first escape attempt, followed by the first mutiny. Those led to the first whippings and executions, and every drop of blood that ended up in the water made the wraith that hounded them ache for more. Being able to drink deep of so much essence so often was a luxury it had never imagined before, and its reach and power only grew by the day.

    The sickness started with their leader. The swamp knew that if it started to pick off the weakest, the strongest would just flee while they still could, denying it the revenge and vitality that it craved. So, it watched and waited for his habits to slacken - for his men to fail to boil the water long enough or for him to leave his windows open on sweltering nights.

    Then in the peak of summer, when the water levels were at the lowest, and the ruins of so many of the smaller islands were visible above the much-reduced water line, the task master came down with a bad case of gray fever. His sweating became more profuse even as the sun set, and then his skin turned ashen.

    ¡°What you need is to take a trip into Aiden. I¡¯ll row you myself. They¡¯ve got a real healer, and gods know you need one,¡± his second in command argued.

    ¡°Bah,¡± said the taskmaster, weakly. ¡°We both know that if I leave half of the superstitious mutts we have here will run for the hills. I wouldn¡¯t dream of such a thing.¡±

    ¡°That might be true,¡± his second agreed, ¡°But isn¡¯t that reason enough to think about packing all this in. Maybe that lunatic had no idea what he was talking about.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re close Mick. I can feel it in my bones we''re close,¡± the leader answered, before ending the conversation.

    They were close of course - practically on top of it. The swamp knew that, but it also sent dreams telling him that almost every night lately. That they were so close. That any day now they¡¯d find the object of his desires.

    The man in charge was certain they¡¯d find the gold before the fever broke, but while he lay in bed, other disasters abounded. Without careful inspections, rats had gotten to two casks of food and spoiled them completely, and a crew returning with firewood had capsized on the way back to camp after hitting a snag that hadn¡¯t been there the day before. A good man lost his leg to a gator, and two slaves drowned in a panic to escape, in water they should have been able to stand in.

    While the wraith drank deep of all this human suffering with one hand, it had used tremendous amounts of its energy to cause them, and so it was a net loss. It was getting impatient though. It knew that this group lacked the monomaniacal dedication to seeking the treasure that the murderer had unless they found something, and it was loath to give up a single coin - even to keep them here forever. A few days later the taskmaster was well enough to leave his sick bed, and he started to issue orders - they were leaving.

    That¡¯s when the real madness started. One of their pole boats sank, three slaves escaped, and several more fell sick with a bad case of goblin guts. If things had been going bad before they decided to leave, then they got much worse once they began making preparations.

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    Four months earlier they had arrived with 23 living souls including the murderer toward the end of spring rains, and now that summer heat was finally dying off 14 people were making plans to leave in the next day or two. They¡¯d been humbled by nature and feasted on by powers they couldn¡¯t see, let alone understand.

    Then the mage came.

 Ch. 03 - Taming the Swamp

    Aside from the man at the oars, the mage was alone. He came without any servants, but he practically glowed with ethereal energy. His layers of enchantments left him well beyond the reach of the wraith from the moment he first crossed into the swamp¡¯s domain.

    He was rowed out into the fen by a local fisherman who had only the tiniest stains on his soul from regularly eating the swamp¡¯s polluted catch; it was just a hint that soon enough - a year or two at most - he would have the whole village, not just the men hidden in the fever-ridden swamps outside of it. The mage¡¯s robes didn¡¯t have even the faintest trace of mud or stains from work on them, and he smiled at the dangerous men like he didn¡¯t have a care in the world.

    ¡°Leaving already, are you?¡± he asked, ¡°I suppose I could allow that. Sell me your slaves and the rest of your supplies, and I¡¯ll even give you a good price. You¡¯ll need money for the road if you¡¯re going to get far enough away from me that I¡¯ll never find you again.¡±

    ¡°Leave? We¡¯ll be back, and with even more men than before!¡± the headman yelled, purpling with rage.

    The swamp loved anger and rippled hungrily around the violence, preparing to savor what was sure to happen next. The leader would never have the chance to yell anything again, though. In the split second it took him to reach for his sword, a lightning bolt came down from a clear blue sky and boiled his brains in his skull before he hit the water, still steaming. He was dead before he¡¯d gotten wet and before he or the swamp had gotten even a taste of suffering.

    ¡°Anyone else?¡± The mage asked languidly. Everyone there stood dumbfounded, including the swamp. It recoiled from the painful flare of essence that wasn¡¯t its own. One moment it had been expecting to feast on blood and suffering, and the next, it was burned by foreign magics - hurt in a way that it had never been hurt before. For the first time in its existence, it knew fear. ¡°The local lord has promised me this whole area for my experiments if I purge the thieving vermin in it. As far as I¡¯m concerned, purge means ¡®to expel,¡¯ so if you hurry, I won¡¯t have to kill all of you. I can just¡ª¡±

    The headman¡¯s second had been standing at the window of the main building, overlooking this whole exchange near the shore. He raised a crossbow, but he burst into flames before he could pull the trigger. The swamp was tempted to drink deep of that terrible suffering but held back.

    The mage¡¯s magic cut through the mist and shadows that made up the wraith like the noonday sun, and it wanted nothing to do with them. So even as the gang''s second in command threw himself from the window into the shallow water to enjoy a short life amid the mud and worms, the swamp retreated into the water. That left only a few men that had already pissed themselves in fear and a burning building behind them.

    Even before the flaming man hit the water, though, everyone else with a weapon met with an equally grisly fate. It was only when the gang was dead that the mage got off the boat and began to survey the island.

    ¡°Yes - this will do, I think,¡± he said to himself, ¡°This will do nicely.¡±

    ¡°What will become of us,¡± one of the surviving slaves asked. He was strong enough to have survived two rounds of the shivers, but he didn¡¯t look like he would make it through a third.

    ¡°Why - you¡¯ll work for me, and when I have no further need of you, I¡¯ll set all of you free.¡± The mage said, not bothering to look at any of them. ¡°Now unload the boats and bring the tools. We¡¯ll need to knock some of these huts down before we can put up the circle.¡±

    The men got to work after that - knocking down many of the structures they¡¯d built up so carefully until now. This should have pleased the swamp, but the swamp knew that nothing good could come from this new arrival. It slunk away into the shadows to feast on the corpses of the recently dead to recover its strength and keep an eye on all the goings-on from a safe distance.

    The fisherman left at once, and everyone else labored for several days until the mage pronounced their preparations completed. The swamp could feel the change. It was like a numbness in the center of its very soul.

    The mage had cleared and leveled the land enough to create a broad ring on the island that only existed to safeguard the treasure. Once that was done, he¡¯d lit a brazier. Then, he added potent incense to drive back the fetid swamp air from his ritual site before adding granite dust mixed with salt in a perfect circle while chanting, causing the whole area to thrum with geomantic power. The weather smelled of storms, but even if the swamp called to the thunderheads, there was no way the rain would come in time to stop what was coming next.

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    The swamp was afraid. It had stayed clear, so it wasn¡¯t trapped inside the circle, but its treasures were. There were a few coins and pieces of jewelry in the waters surrounding its lair. Still, it was less than nothing in the face of its great golden heart, and right now, it could barely feel its sole reason for being. Was this mage really going to dig up its treasure in a single moment?

    Was it going to do in a day what the murderer hadn¡¯t been able to accomplish in years? That part of his soul was frothing with rage while the rest sank into fear and despair. That¡¯s when the ground started to move.

    It started somewhere below it. Below the layers of clay that it had claimed, in the bedrock that would forever be too hard for the dark waters of the swamp to penetrate. What was once silent and still was rumbling and cracking. Then the rock began to rise higher. It was an impossibility, but it was happening just the same.

    The slaves fell to their knees as the earth shook, even as the mage stood there unperturbed while his chanting reached a crescendo. The rock was rising in a handful of broken spires - like teeth or claws, and the swamp could feel them tearing at its underbelly. Was it not enough to rip the treasure from its beating heart? Was it also going to pierce the clay, so the infected waters could be lanced and drained before it had the chance to reach the village?

    The swamp recoiled in anguish as the first outcropping pierced the bloodstained soil of its domain. Like the mage that summoned it, the rock was entirely beyond its control. It was an affront to everything it had been building - a monument to frustration, but one built within mere feet of its gold.

    The first outcrop wasn¡¯t the only one, either. Soon there were half a dozen, and each was a finger in the fist gripping the core of the wraith¡¯s being. It could feel itself being damaged by the ritual. Even if the rocks hadn¡¯t pierced the soil in such a way as to drain the swamp, they¡¯d still pierced it in a way that was probably fatal, and there was nothing it could do.

    The swamp could only watch as the megalithic stones eventually stopped moving. The still-living humans celebrated this with a lavish dinner. All the swamp could celebrate was that even though the mage had dealt it a grievous blow, the treasure everyone sought still lay more than a dozen feet beneath them.

    If raw magic like that couldn¡¯t force it to the surface, then it was confident that no one would ever find it, and as long as it wasn¡¯t found, the swamp would heal and recover. It would feast on victims or slowly increase its reach a little every week until it had enough blood to become strong again.

    Things passed quickly after that. Lost in the fog of its weakness, the swamp couldn¡¯t follow the small changes on the island that used to belong to it or the people who lived on it as they slowly improved it. One day it was just a series of ugly stones, but only a few months later, those stones had been dressed and shaped, and fired clay bricks were being placed into walls around the whole thing.

    The clay still belonged to the swamp, and so did the wood used to bake them. So, slowly, even though the humans tried to seal it out of whatever they were building, they were unknowingly locking themselves in with it.

    After almost half a year, it began to look like a tower. That¡¯s one of the words the mage used most often, along with phrases like geomantic and ley lines. They meant nothing to the swamp. The mage had apparently discovered that the spot he now occupied was a source of great power, and he had come to harvest it.

    The swamp grew angry at this revelation, of course. The mage had come here to steal its powers, and there was nothing it could do to stop the theft from happening. That was why it had never recovered, it decided, finally fitting the facts together. No matter how many corpses it devoured or dreams it invaded, it was trying to fill a bucket with a hole in it. Without mending that hole, it would never be full again.

    It could do nothing, though, and more months passed while the tower that both was and was not the swamp began to grow in height. Three stories were finished, and then a fourth was added. Eventually, artisans started to frequent the island, adding timber supports and ornaments that were beyond the mage¡¯s slaves.

    After over a year, they finally came one last time, adding glass to the windows of the sixth story, just below the flat roof. That¡¯s when the tower took on its final form. It was a drum tower just over 30 feet at its base and a little over half that on its highest story.

    It was a massive structure that would hum with the mage¡¯s power when he conducted one of his experiments. Those were the days the swamp feared most. Whenever that happened, there was nothing for it to drain or harvest, and the mage sucked power from the wraith to accomplish his arcane goals. Whenever that happened, the swamp lost weeks of time as the energies that let its soul exist faded into the background.

    During one of these blackouts, the mage had his libraries and tools moved into his new home by a small army of servants. After that, no one new came for a long while, but dozens of men still swarmed about the mage, running his errands and doing his bidding. There was precious little the swamp could do to interfere in any of this.

    Indeed, it could only watch as entirely mundane cottages and, eventually, even a manor house sprung upon its island. It was practically a village in its own right now. The swamp should have been drowning in blood and power with such a feast on its doorstep, but it could only watch and wither as civilization flourished, and the mage sucked it dry.

 Ch. 51 - Darkest Past

    The gates of bronze were familiar to him, even battered and tarnished as they were. Krulm¡¯venor had been here before, even though he did not remember when or why. He was sure of that much. The stonework in the tunnels that led to the twenty-foot tall doors was wide and open, presenting multiple layers of defenses and lines of fire in an unmistakably dwarven way. However, the shapes that moved behind the walls - the shadows he could see flickering from gap to gap in the shadowy recesses of the firing slits were unmistakably goblin.

    He was thankful that he couldn¡¯t smell anything because, as befouled as the entrance was, the sight was almost enough to make him gag. Seeing the glory of the past desecrated like this was truly tragic, but the presence of goblins did worse things than sadden him. It made him itch. He could feel them crawling inside his bones now. That monster had locked the frayed souls of dozens of their kind in here with him, and they haunted him, muddying the edges of his precise dwarven soul with their filth and hunger. It was a disgusting process but one he could do nothing about. All he could do was take out his frustration on the still-living goblins he encountered.

    That thought made the blue flames that licked his skeleton flare brighter. Boiling these creatures alive in their skin was the only thing that would make him feel better.

    The interior of the ancient fortress wasn¡¯t in any better shape than the exterior had been. Only the highest parts of the tapestries remained unshredded, and any ornamentation near the ground had been ravaged and ruined; the frescoes on the ceilings were largely intact besides the black stains that had accumulated from countless small fires in this room.

    The rooms of the dwarven fortress were nests or battlefields, and sometimes they were both at once as the goblins constantly waged war with each other one room at a time. As Krulm¡¯venor moved from room to room, the tiny creatures that infested the place ran before him, eager to flee his eerie blue light. That just gave him more time to study the place and wrack his mind for some clue as to why he would have walked these halls before, though.

    It wasn¡¯t until he reached the library, or at least what was left of it on the second floor, that he discovered that answer. The leather tomes had long ago been devoured, and the pages and scrolls were only ash now. The stone shelves carved into the exterior walls could never be erased by such crude creatures, and the mosaic of All-Father on the ceiling was equally out of reach. It was the beauty of that piece that brought him back. The ancient, white-bearded dwarf stood there in a finely appointed smithy wearing an apron of dragon leather and a look of judgment.

    Such was the skill of the nameless artist, though, that if you looked past the obvious, you could see that the All-Father was made up of hundreds of tiny dwarves, each a seamless part of the greater whole that had been found worthy. That was the dwarven afterlife. Krulm¡¯venor knew that because once, long ago, he¡¯d been a part of that. He¡¯d been¡­ a jolt of pain assaulted him as fragments of discordant memories assaulted him.

    In his mind, he could see ossuaries stacked with the bones of dwarves. The youngest who died in battle were honored in their own way, but their gleaming white skulls would never achieve unity with the divine. It was only the older skulls that had lived hundreds of years and tested their mettle against every adversity that were free to join him in the afterlife. All the other dwarves would have to take another trip to the fire to have their mettle tested once more because only the crystal skulls of the ancestors could genuinely connect with the divine.

    If that was true, though, then why was Krulm¡¯venor not still in the afterlife, helping the All-Father to forge creation forever more? A loose thread of a memory pulled at him - something about how in times of dire need, a dwarf would be selected and¡ª He almost had it, but in the time it had taken him to remember these things, his fires had begun to dim, and it was in that near darkness that the goblins crept closer and closer.

    He could feel them, or at least the goblins locked inside this cursed cage could, but he was so focused on trying to remember that he did nothing and so emboldened they crept closer and closer. It was only when the first one attacked him that those memories drifted away like smoke, leaving Krulm¡¯venor with only the coals of wounded pride and raging resentment that was all that was left of his dwarven soul.

    The sharp stone that the goblin struck his steel femur with could never hope to scratch this terrible body. However, the single clear note of the impact rang out, and like a single drop of water in a still pool, it clarified everything. Revelation could wait. Knowledge and memory could wait. Even revenge on the Lich that had done these terrible things to it and trapped it in this bag of rats could wait. What couldn¡¯t wait was killing these disgusting, insignificant vermin.

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    ¡°Do not touch me,¡± Krulm¡¯venor rasped.

    For a moment, the goblins that surrounded him flinched in unison, wavering at the sound, but when no action followed. They surged forward, emboldened. At that moment, the world burst into flames. They emerged from where Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s heart should have been, like a nova, and flooded the room with liquid fire.

    For the first time in decades, this room was lit brightly enough for every detail to be seen, but the only thing anyone would ever see here was a massacre. The goblins closest to him could touch him with their weapons, but that was all. Even as they achieved that remarkable victory, the hands that held them burned to ash. Those goblins that were further away had a chance to scream as the heat of the fire made their rancid green skin steam before the flames reached out to crisp them to shades of brown and black.

    The goblins that were furthest away tried to flee, but the magnitude of Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s fury kept rising, so that was impossible. He paced through the three-story structure, burning away every goblin, as well as every sign that they¡¯d ever existed. The totems and graffiti they used to mark the ever-shifting line of their territory vaporized almost as easily as the warriors that fought over them, along with any remnants of the dwarves that had once lived here.

    Only when all that had burned away did Krulm¡¯venor start to feel clean again. He couldn¡¯t erase the many stains on his soul that the swamp had put there, but the purity of fire could hide them with its all-consuming light for a time. He would gladly stay like this forever if he could have, as the heart of his own tormented sun. However, when he saw the bronze fixtures were starting to melt and the perfectly dressed blocks of dwarvish stone were cracking under the heat, he couldn¡¯t keep going.

    Being buried alive by the collapsing structure wasn¡¯t his concern either. He was happy to die. He was getting to the point where he welcomed true death and the oblivion awaiting him, but he wouldn¡¯t harm dwarves. Even as tarnished as this building was, an ambitious clan could one day reclaim it. Their job would be that much easier now that he had purged it of vermin and filth with fire, he thought, looking for some silver lining to all of this.

    Now he could go back downstairs and examine the mosaic to his heart¡¯s content until he remembered what he¡¯d forgotten. The Lich wouldn¡¯t even protest such an activity. It was precisely what that foul creature wanted him to do. The last thing he wanted to do was give that evil access to more information about his people, but in this matter, he couldn¡¯t resist his own terrible compulsion to find out more about himself. For years now, all he¡¯d been was a spark of the divine, and for who knows how long before that, he was reduced to little more than smoke in a filthy cave. He needed to understand why he would ever subject himself to such a fate; part of that answer was why he¡¯d been separated from the Allfather; he was sure of it.

    When Krulm¡¯venor reached the library once more, his spirit sank. In his mind, he¡¯d been expecting to see a now cleansed room that had been turned from the midden heap it had become into the shrine to the only god that mattered it should have been.

    Instead, he found he had cleansed the whole place entirely too well. The goblins were reduced to ash, and the trash had been vaporized as well, but he¡¯d burned too hot for too long, and the artwork that had managed to survive the goblins for who knows how long had been blasted to ruin by the full force of his dark fires.

    Krulm¡¯venor could have wept for the feeling of loss he felt then, but there were no tears left to cry. Indeed, there was nothing left at all. Just an empty skeleton in an empty fortress surrounded by the new and the old dead. He turned to leave, and that was when he finally felt his master¡¯s dark gaze upon him.

    ¡°That picture. The one you destroyed. What was it?¡± the Darkness in the back of his mind asked.

    ¡°That was the Allfather, lord of the dwarves, and I bitterly regret its loss. I wasn¡¯t attempting to hide anything from you.¡± As he responded, Krulm¡¯venor realized that perhaps it was for the best that it was gone. The Darkness couldn¡¯t quite read his mind, but it could compel the truth from him and leave him suffering in agony until he told it everything that it wanted to know. Less evidence meant fewer questions to ask.

    ¡°The dwarves only have one god then, while the humans have multitudes. Why is that?¡± This time the Lich pressed harder like it suspected something, but Krulm¡¯venor merely shrugged.

    ¡°Who knows why the humans do anything,¡± he rattled. ¡°The dwarves have one god because there is only one way to do anything right. That¡¯s as true for stone cutting and steel forging as it is for worship.¡±

    There was a long, uneasy moment where it worried the Lich would press harder still, but as quickly as it appeared, the dark pressure on his mind eased. His master was gone, leaving him alone in the infinite dark to worry in private.

    He desperately wanted to know more about his past than the growing pile of scraps he had, but the more he learned, the more the Lich would too. What terrible deeds could such an entity do with the knowledge that the dwarven god was made up of the souls of all the dwarven elders who ever lived?

    Krulm¡¯venor prayed silently that it would never find out as it exited the ash-filled fortress and continued his long silent walk into the deeps.

 Ch. 52 - Dark Missives

    When the messenger arrived in the holy city of Siddrimar, the seat of the light God Siddrim¡¯s earthly power, with his ill news, he was forced to wait almost a day before the guards could be bothered to admit him. This was good and proper, of course, as he was not a member of the church and had not come at the request of any of the priests. He came bearing only the seal of temporal power and a minor one at that. The Count of Greshen was not a well-regarded name. Their river heresies were only tolerated thanks to the generous tithes they¡¯d given to the church.

    Few small gods were granted such benign neglect, and only when all evidence showed that they were an unmitigated good for the region¡¯s people. Despite his unlimited power, neither Siddrim nor his servants needed to hunt down every stray spirit. After all, there were more than enough evils to banish in the world.

    So, the tired, saddle-sore man was allowed to rest and wait in the perdition courtyard. This was the outermost enclosed area, just inside the main gate. It was a drab, undecorated affair crowded with penitents and petitioners. While he waited, his request to be seen by a member of the Templars was filtered slowly up the chain of command between meals and scheduled prayers. That he didn¡¯t even know enough to call them by their proper name, The Order of Purgative Flame was no help to his case. Any of the rank-and-file members of the order would have accepted Templar just as readily, of course. They seemed somewhat attached to the name even if it was officially frowned on in favor of the formal title. However, they would never be the first to hear an unknown petition.

    Such requests were only ever passed through the priesthood for proper deliberation. The more important they were, the more priests would have to be involved in ensuring that whatever was decided was the right decision for the church. In this matter, the request of a minor noble was deemed too unimportant for the Hierarch of Purgative Flame or even his aids. After all, what need would a country fief have for such a prestigious branch of the Siddrim¡¯s palace? Their elite forces were busy stomping out the brush fires of heresy across the country, as they always were. Whether those came in the form of hedge witches or raucous bards, there were never enough of their cadres to go around. So, the request fell to the high priest of the Regency, who in turn was too busy and sent it on to the high priest of the Penitent. He was too ill to take guests that day, though, so it was sent to his underlings.

    Ultimately, after more than a dozen quiet conversations and thoughtful reassignments to someone who might be better suited to the task, it was delivered to Verdinen, a priest-candidate acolyte. Unlike everyone that ranked higher than him in the pecking order, he was eager to please, though. He might not have had the sight or some of the gifts that his fellow priest-candidates had. Still, he was eager to work hard and advance, and he was confident that alone would take him places, even if his divine blessings and healings could use a little more work.

    Brother Verdinen found the messenger sitting alone on a stone bench shortly before sunset in the outermost courtyard. He¡¯d spent the last few minutes rehearsing a speech about all the reasons why the messenger had to go through proper channels and why it would likely be a week before a man in his place would be allowed to see the Underkirker to arrange a more personal audience. Of course, he secretly hoped that the lord of such a rich county would have sent his man with a little coin to spread around and expedite things. Brother Verdinen would have been happy to take his cut and help the man find an audience with an acolyte of the holy flame the day after tomorrow at the latest with that sort of incentive. After all, he was owed a few favors for all his good works.

    But the man didn¡¯t argue or haggle. He just looked up at the priest with haunted eyes as soon as Brother Verdinen started to make his apologies and said, ¡°Read it, your holiness, I beseech you,¡± as he pressed a rather large sealed scroll into Verdinen¡¯s hands.

    Typically these requests were about bandits as often as cults. Still, something about the desperation that clung to the man in front of him affected him. Rather than delivering the rest of his speech, he checked the golden seal that featured a river and chain for integrity and then cracked open the wax.

    The scroll was perfectly normal velum written in unremarkable ink with a slightly shaky hand. There was nothing evil or magical about it, but with every word he read, his mind recoiled in horror as the words and their evil meaning invaded his brain. Even though it rebelled, the priest-candidate acolyte forced himself to continue, and a picture slowly resolved in his mind. Greshen was a region being punished by the gods for their misdeeds with a severe drought and an unseasonable storm. Suddenly everyone of any importance had gone missing, and all that had been left behind was a house full of blood, a squalling child, and a hole in the basement.

    Brother Verdinen didn¡¯t know what could have done such a thing, and honestly, he didn¡¯t want to. He wanted to administer last rites to rich old men and comfort comely women during their times of trouble. He wanted to advise princes of the realm as a prince of the church. He knew without doubt that there was evil in the world, but he hadn¡¯t joined the church to deal with such things. Those details were best left to the Order of Purgative Flame, the Brotherhood of the Blazing Harrow, or even the Inquisitors, though he¡¯d never mention that last one in public.

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    Suddenly, despite the almost mortal danger, he couldn¡¯t help but imagine what sort of yawning evil must have welled up from the depths to drag so many sinners into the darkest hell. His mind conjured up something slimy, like a dragon or a serpent, and an involuntary shudder went through him. He was no seer, but he could only take what he¡¯d experienced as a sign regarding the machinations of the dark god. Perhaps Harquines or Tallethin were at work here. He couldn¡¯t say, but his superiors would know.

    He closed the scroll as soon as he decided what had to be done next and brusquely ordered the messenger, ¡°Come with me. I will find you a place to sleep while my superiors deliberate.¡±

    That part was easy enough. The church kept bunks year-round for pilgrims, and the end of summer was hardly pilgrimage season. With so much work to prepare for the harvest, they had more than enough room. Seek an audience - that would be another matter entirely. Usually, Brother Verdinen would have gone to great lengths to avoid drawing that kind of attention to himself, but this was a chance where the spotlight could only benefit him. After all - it was he that had seen the genuine danger and he that had felt the taint radiating from the page. Surely if he could see that, then everyone else would too.

    Ultimately, he decided the most expedient route was approaching the Priest Varquaress. The old man was undoubtedly amenable and much more sensitive than he and began to shake with the first signs of a fit almost as soon as he opened the scroll and closed it immediately after reading only a few lines. That was all the convincing he needed.

    After that, a conclave was called for dawn, and it was scheduled for the room of eternal dawn. Its murals of light and life would do wonders to keep the evil they would be discussing at bay, though it would have to be scrubbed hard by the acolytes afterward just the same.

    The message was locked away in a sanctified chest to prevent its taint from spreading. This turned out to be both a brilliant and terrible idea because, in the morning, when the priests and high priests had all assembled to examine the document and decide what needed to be done, all they found was ashes. Sometime during the night, the holy power of the city had proven too much for the implement of evil, and it had withered before the might of their god.

    ¡°That should be all the evidence that we need to dispatch a cadre to root out this filth,¡± Gantrin, a high priest who dealt more with tomes than people, argued. For him, anything relating to writing like this was a miracle from their god directly to him, and he would not budge in interpreting that.

    ¡°I remain unconvinced,¡± Armuth answered, making sure the trace of arrogance in his voice was obvious enough to be unmistakable as the Hierarch reasserted his dominance in the conversation. ¡°Tell us priest-candidate everything you can remember about this cursed missive, and then we shall make our decision.¡±

    Brother Verdinen swallowed hard. He¡¯d been dreading this moment since they¡¯d found the heap of ashes in place of the scroll earlier. He¡¯d wanted to be the center of attention, but only as the person with the wit to escalate this as soon as possible. Now, as the only one to read it, that role was inescapable, and he began to sweat as he stood and bowed before the assembled leaders of the wing of the church militant. He hadn¡¯t planned to actually speak to his betters, so he¡¯d made no attempt to memorize that damnable scroll, but here he was, suddenly expected to recite it from memory.

    ¡°Thank you, your glory,¡± he said, his mouth dry as he realized he had no idea whether the Hierarch wanted him to exaggerate or downplay the danger for the audience with the pointed way that the man was glaring. ¡°I shall give you all every last detail, so you may make the proper judgment.¡±

    Brother Verdinen began to speak, but not a word of it was what he remembered from the scroll. He couldn¡¯t remember a single thing he¡¯d read verbatim, so he just made it up. He started with a simple greeting that was respectful but not respectful enough. He described the eerie scene of a palace where decadent nobles had danced into the night, never to be seen again. He mentioned the blood, but since it didn¡¯t seem to have the desired impact, he added a few ritually butchered servants to the description for color. If he was going to stand up here speaking in front of so many influential men, he would make sure his words left an impact.

    When he was finally done describing the horrors unleashed in Fallravea, he took grim satisfaction in the number of men around the table who looked stricken. There was only a brief debate after that, and in the end, everyone agreed that a sworn cadre should be sent with all haste to root out this terrible blight. It was going as well as Brother Verdinen could have hoped until the Hierarch said, ¡°of course, you¡¯ll need to go with them too, priest-candidate.¡±

    ¡°M-me sir¡­ I mean your glory. Why would the Tem¡­ the warriors of The Purgative Flame require the assistance of a lowly acolyte?¡± Brother Verdinen asked. Normally he was loathe for anyone to reduce his meager rank, even in passing, but this time it seemed best to make himself as small and unimportant as possible.

    ¡°Why, of course - you were the first to recognize the danger, so it is only right that you are there to share in the glory.¡± The Hierarch smiled. ¡°And with your fine words, I can think of no one better to document the brave deeds of our holy warriors.¡±

    Brother Verdinen forced himself to smile and thank the man for his obtuse punishment. Deep inside, though, he felt like something had already died.

 Ch. 53 - Squire Todd

    Fear mixed with excitement the day that the priest-candidate stormed across Todd¡¯s path to see Brother Faerbar. There could only be one reason for such a visit: to bring them orders that he was to ready his men for another mission. Even after being here for over a year, Todd was still on edge whenever one of the lower priests crossed his path. They were a fickle bunch in their red robes and much more likely to scream at him and his fellow acolytes for imagined sins than to praise hard work. Worse - those beratings usually ended in lengthy punishments. As Brother Faerbar¡¯s squire, he was often singled out for those while he was told how he needed to ¡®hold himself to a higher standard.¡¯

    By contrast, the priests and high priests barely noticed that he and his fellow acolytes existed. Anyone that had been elevated to the white no longer seemed to see the gray and brown robes of the acolytes, even though many of them had worn them for much longer than they¡¯d worn the white or the red. Todd thought it was funny, but he didn¡¯t really care beyond the extra chores. He had less than zero interest in ranks and titles. All he cared about was that Brother Faerbar had been good to him, and he was teaching him how to fight. One day he would no longer be a squire but a full-fledged warrior, and then he could go back to the broad plains of his birth and finally get his revenge on the goblin tribes that still lingered there even now.

    That wasn¡¯t what would happen today, though, based on the sense of urgency on display. The red-robed man barely glanced at him long enough to scowl before he hurried to speak with his master. A priest candidate would never hurry half so much for a lowly goblin. He was almost certainly here because some heretic or bandit needed to be dealt with like usual.

    Being ignored suited Todd just fine. He¡¯d just finished mending his master¡¯s chain mail after their expedition north last week. Right now, he was rolling it back and forth across the small courtyard of the guardians, where most of the sparring practice took place to get the last of the rust off. The swamp they¡¯d trudged through to track down their last fugitive had been tougher on everyone¡¯s armor than the self-styled bandit king of the Greenwood had ever been. Besides a single ambush where Todd had taken his first arrow, they¡¯d barely put up a fight.

    Todd paused in his exertions to scratch the place the wound had been on his arm. There was barely a mark now, thanks to the paladin¡¯s healing magic, but sometimes it still tingled. Pausing for a quick break to stretch was just a cover, though. He¡¯d chosen his spot well. It was almost directly outside Brother Faerbar¡¯s window. The rumbling of the barrel made it impossible to hear anything, but as soon as he stopped, he could listen to them speaking again.

    ¡°...nothing beyond that. The letter claims that the palace was filled with evidence of a slaughter, and we have been ordered there with all speed,¡± the strange priest-candidate said.

    ¡°Well - if it¡¯s a rebellion and not something darker, we could well be walking into a trap. The light will not avail nearly as much against mortal enemies as infernal ones,¡± Brother Faerbar responded thoughtfully.

    ¡°There is definitely a taint here. I could feel it through the ink,¡± the other man said stiffly. ¡°Make sure your cadre is ready because, in Fallravea, we will face true darkness.¡±

    Afraid of being caught, Todd started rolling his barrel once more as soon as he heard that. The details didn¡¯t matter. They could wait until his master felt like doling them out. All that mattered was that they would finally fight real evil, and his heart thrilled at the news. That wasn¡¯t to say what they¡¯d done in the past wasn¡¯t important and that they didn¡¯t help people, but there was a world of difference between a ghoul or a demon and an old witcher-woman.

    The rest of the morning passed without incident. Once Brother Faerbar¡¯s armor was clean and his sword was sharpened, Todd devoted himself to his drills even more than usual. After all, he would have to be ready. He¡¯d grown stronger over the past year as the dual magics of age and training had done their work. He¡¯d begun to feel the light flow through him with purpose now, even if he still had no control over his sight. When it would show him things he¡¯d rather not know, it was great progress, and he felt more than ready to charge into battle with the other Templars. His master saw Todd sweating as he battered the poor training dummy and smiled that knowing smile of his that told Todd that he already knew exactly how much he¡¯d heard and that he was pleased with his squire¡¯s eagerness.

    That silent combination of compliment and rebuke kept Todd working hard throughout the day. It was only when the entire cadre sat down to evening prayers and bowls of hearty vegetable stew that he announced the plan.

    ¡°We¡¯re off to Fallravea at sunrise,¡± he declared. ¡°It will be a hard four-day ride. Plan accordingly; bring your full kit. This isn¡¯t going to be another exercise in bandit hunting.¡±

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    Everyone took a minute to absorb the words. He¡¯d probably left out the key details so as not to spoil anyone¡¯s appetite, but it was easy enough to read between the lines and hear what he was actually saying to the veterans. ¡®Our enemies are infernal, not mortal.¡¯

    ¡°Why can¡¯t we take a ferry downriver,¡± Brother Darrius asked, ¡°It would save the horses and a whole day besides.¡±

    ¡°You know my stance on the river, Darrius. It¡¯s been tainted, and I believe it might have something to do with the rest of the mission,¡± Brother Faerbar answered between bites of his meal. ¡°I aim to cross as far upriver as possible and stay well clear of it until we get to the city. Too many ships have disappeared to risk it.¡±

    Brother Darrius shook his head but made no argument against his leader. He lacked the sight, so while he respected Brother Faerbar, he¡¯d always been skeptical of the man¡¯s stance on the broad and meandering Oroza. Especially since that fixation had cost all of them quite a few extra days in the saddle. Todd understood too well, though. Even though the river might look picturesque, he could see the gray-green film that clung to it like an oil slick. His master had petitioned the Hierarch on more than one occasion that he be allowed to go upriver and investigate the source of the taint. However, to date, it had not been deemed to be worth the church¡¯s time.

    Perhaps this mission would change that, Todd thought hopefully as he wolfed down his meal. He would sleep sounder if they could find and fix such an apparent evil, but truthfully the world was full of them, and they couldn¡¯t be everywhere at once. He¡¯d even felt the taint of the monastery at Garvin¡¯s Gift sometimes. So much blood had been shed in the world that it was hard to find true purity outside the walls of the fortress city of Siddrimar.

    <hr>

    While Todd might enjoy his new home¡¯s clean air and holy aura, he loved being out of it almost as much. Until he¡¯d been taken away by Brother Faerbar practically two years ago, he¡¯d hardly traveled at all in his whole life, now they did it constantly, and he¡¯d grown to love it. As they traveled west on the high road, he looked around at sights he¡¯d already seen a dozen times with fresh eyes. Siddrimar was large enough that small villages crowded every road that led to it for miles and miles in all directions, but after a few hours of riding, they came only every hour or two, and eventually not at all, as the fields gave way to forests.

    He¡¯d been told more than once that before the Drowning swept across the land, there were twice as many villages and that the forest never crowded this close to the main roads. It would be years before that was true again, and everything was in its proper place, though. Now you could see the thickets encroaching on the overgrown fields, and occasionally, you could pick out a cottage all but engulfed in ivy, but mostly the communities that had been swept under by the sickness had all but vanished.

    On the third night, they camped in what used to be a town on the far side of the river. There were dozens of buildings that were no longer occupied, and the only part that had any life to it was the inn and tavern that stood at the crossroads. They ate there, giving Todd a chance to listen to a bard sing a song about some heroes in a swamp, which seemed appropriate given that they¡¯d just fought in a swamp themselves, even if there hadn¡¯t been anything as exciting as zombies waiting for them.

    This was enough for his master to decide that the run-down place was too worldly for them, and as soon as everyone had finished eating, they quickly paid and left. Instead of nice warm beds, they slept on the dusty floor of an empty cottage in their bedrolls. The roof had begun to sag badly in the middle, but it was still enough to keep the rain off and the fireplace still worked, which was all that mattered. The constant drizzle had shown that the autumn had finally begun and that the mighty Oroza would soon fill its banks rather than the muddy trickle it was now.

    The most exciting thing that Todd did the rest of the night was gathering firewood, though, even as run down and empty as the area was, he didn¡¯t feel afraid. Not even the rain or distant thunder was enough to make him jump at his own shadow these days, and this place still smelled too much of man for the monsters to move in yet. He still carried his mace with him at all times, of course, but he never once felt the need to lift it from where it hung on his belt.

    Things didn¡¯t start to grow worrisome until they were less than a day outside Fallravea. There the sun-ravaged fields had yet to heal, even after all the rain they¡¯d gotten in the last week, and they were greeted by stunted crops and starving people in every little village. Only the villages right on the river had been spared the worst of it, but those families had an evil look that Todd didn¡¯t care for.

    Since Brother Faerbar¡¯s trip to the red hills, most of their questing had taken them north and east, but the short conversations that he heard the stoic Templars sharing amongst themselves certainly agreed with his assessment: things had been much better when they¡¯d last passed this way.

    At the end of their journey, all that awaited them was a city in mourning. Their cadre entered just before sunset, with cloaks covering their armor and as little fanfare as possible. ¡°Evil rarely welcomes our arrival,¡± Brother Faerbar said as a reminder as they rode down the side streets single file. When they reached the palace, they closed and locked the outer gate, commissioning the city watch to hold the public at bay while they dealt with whatever darkness was contained within in private.

    They would sleep in the garden until morning, and only then, after prayer and fasting, would they finally enter the palace proper and discover the truth of the matter.

 Ch. 101 - A Shot in the Dark

    In the instant that they passed through the stone, the Paragon was almost wrenched free of Jordan¡¯s grasp as his hand and mind slackened. Trying to teleport through a solid object was the surest way to make sure they never found a body, though it was possible for a mage that was skilled or powerful enough. His instructor, Magus Gershwile, had joked more than once about that grim fate while he and his classmates had struggled to send rats from where they sat to the empty cage across the room that had waited for them.

    It had taken a week before any of the rats that had managed to disappear without vanishing in a spray of blood to reappear on the far side of the room, alive and well, and there hadn¡¯t been a wall in the way then. That had been years ago, of course, and Jordan had improved since then, but had he improved enough to fling them from the depths of darkness back into the light?

    It was unlikely. Even as they soared through the emptiness between spaces, he could feel the hands of evil clawing at them and trying to drag them back to where they had departed.

    Teleportation was an instantaneous thing. Done correctly, one would vanish in one spot and instantaneously appear in another, though it would always seem to the person in transit that seconds or minutes had passed. In fact, it was widely held that the longer it felt like it took, the closer one had come to the edge and that those who never reappeared simply stayed stuck in that timeless moment forever.

    Jordan considered that entirely possible that that was the case here as he swallowed hard and tried to stay focused on their destination. Even being lost in the dark forever would be a kindlier fate than being raised as the servant of a monster, though, so he didn¡¯t regret what he¡¯d done for a single moment.

    There was no denying that the faster he moved and the harder he strove, the further his destination moved from him. That thought was enough to bring him slowly to a halt as he drifted there, somewhere above the ground but far from the muddy field his magic had aimed for. He could feel the two of them beginning to freeze solid there, and that might have become an actual eternity were it not for the single silver thread that suddenly penetrated the endless dark.

    The light of the moon would have been unable to breach the veil of unnatural darkness that shrouded this place had he stood in the real world. Here, though, past the boundaries of the world, the strange magic that caused that strange effect apparently didn¡¯t apply, and the goddess of magic still reigned supreme.

    That she had taken pity on him was not entirely a surprise; it happened sometimes in the stories. He only wondered if she¡¯d done so to save the mage who was in danger or the servant of another god. Lunaris was as merciful as she was mysterious, and her ways were never entirely understood, even by her devotees. Though most of the world saw her only as the guardian mother who lit up the night for the world, she was the patron god of mages, too. As he gripped the thread and pulled himself forward again, Jordan uttered a prayer of silent thanks for her intercession.

    Suddenly, time started again, and seconds later, they found themselves in a heap of tangled limbs in a dark, snow-covered field. It was close to where he¡¯d been aiming, probably, but that didn¡¯t tell Jordan a lot. Even with Brother Faerbar¡¯s glowing blade radiating outward, he couldn¡¯t see the road.

    While Jordan continued to search for some sign of where they should flee, the paladin lifted him up by the scruff of his collar and shook the mage like a rag doll.

    ¡°You ¡­ traitorous viper!¡± he said coldly, even though his eyes burned with fire, ¡°You left all of those men to die!¡±

    ¡°Th-they¡­ already¡­ dead¡­¡± Jordan gasped, barely able to speak. ¡°Must¡­flee¡­¡±

    ¡°We were slaughtering the devils by the score!¡± the Paragon said, raising his sword threateningly. ¡°There¡¯s still time to regroup. Still time! Take us back at once, or I¡¯ll have no further use for you.¡±

    Jordan could see that the man was half mad with rage and grief, but what he asked was impossible. Even if he had the strength left to try and the desire to end up back in that pit, they would certainly end up embedded in one of the stone walls for all eternity; the spaces were simply too claustrophobic.

    So, he just hung there in the warrior¡¯s grip, waiting for the man to run him through or strike his head from his shoulders. The blow never landed. Instead, the older warrior froze, ears pricked to some distant sound. Then, without explanation, he dropped Jordan and started walking forward.

    Jordan had no idea what had just happened, and he wasn¡¯t about to ask what miracle had given him reprieve. Instead, he listened to the dark, trying to hear what it was that the paladin seemed to be listening to. It took a minute of walking before he heard the child¡¯s wail over the crunch of ice under their boots. By then, the Paragon was running.

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    Abruptly, they found the edge of darkness, and it fell away to reveal the thin gray light of dawn. Brother Faerbar stopped there, paralyzed by what he saw, even as Jordan rushed forward toward the sound.

    The wan light was not yet enough to reveal any real details, but the shape of the shadows was more than Jordan ever wanted to see anyway, and the steam that was still rising from some of the corpses revealed that all of this had happened within the last few hours. He rushed to gather up the squalling child of five or six, hoping that the sound would lead him to further survivors. There was none, though. Not even the woman who still held the blood-stained bundle in her arms was breathing.

    Jordan offered a second prayer to Lunara, sure that this was why she¡¯d saved him. There were more than enough stories about how she would move heaven and earth to save motherless children and war orphans. This probably wasn¡¯t even the strangest story on record, he realized, numbly, though he had no idea if they¡¯d survive long enough to tell anyone.

    Even with a knight glowing with divine might, the monsters that would come for the three of them come nightfall would be all but unbeatable now. Jordan looked past the field of dead bodies and up the road, trying to decide how far they could get before the last sunset, and he didn¡¯t like his odds. It was only when he turned back to the Templar to ask him his opinion that Jordan finally saw a welcome sight: the sail of a ship.

    . . .

    Markez had been so busy pretending that everything was normal and that there wasn¡¯t some monster lurking beneath them while they slowly poled their way through the darkness that he entirely missed the light on the far shore at first.

    It was only when the children cried out that dawn had come again that they thanked the gods of the waters and cried out. ¡°Well then, don¡¯t stand around gawking at the sun. We got ourselves a sail to raise.¡±

    Polling through the utter blackness that still stood adjusted behind them like a river had been as miserable as it had been unavoidable. With no starlight to show them where the sandbars or the shore were, they¡¯d had to take that whole section nice and slow so as not to sink their fragile wooden world.

    Now, as well as he had these children trained, it might take less than an hour to get their sail up and put that evil place behind them as quickly as possible. Markez was shocked they¡¯d made it through at all, though that wasn¡¯t something he was likely to tell anyone until he could find a pub where he could share drinks with a few salts his own age if such a thing even still existed in this fallen world.

    No sooner did they have the sails up, though, and were once again starting to make real headway than another oddity was sighted. Two men were running towards them, and each of them was stranger than the last. The first one was wearing plate mail and glowing brighter than the sun itself, and the second was a skinny young man wearing bloody robes. He would have been inclined to put both of them in his wake, given how desperate and dangerous they looked. He doubted that everyone on this boat together could have possibly beaten him, even without whatever crazy magic he seemed to wield.

    But for the baby, he would have left them both, but if Markez had a weakness, it was that. How could he ever hope to leave a defenseless infant behind?

    So, he guided the boat toward the far shore and ordered his crew to loosen the sails so he could have a closer look at these two and decide what it was he should do about them. Fortunately, spilling wind from a sail was the only order that the sailors of this ship were any good at.

    ¡°You¡¯re a strange couple of parents,¡± Markez called to the two men on shore as they pulled up close. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I can let such dangerous strangers come aboard my vessel, though!¡±

    ¡°I understand that you are nervous, sir,¡± the young man with robes said very politely, ¡°I would do no less in these¡­ trying times. But we can be of help to you in your darkest hour, as it were.¡±

    Markez didn¡¯t laugh at the joke. Instead, he set his chin and turned to Mr. Light, ¡°And who¡¯s this then? What¡¯s with the light show? I haven¡¯t seen a single Siddrimite since your god was plucked from the sky!¡±

    Markez watched the man tense, and for a moment, he thought that the knight would draw his sword, but the man resisted, showing him how close to the mark he¡¯d gotten.

    ¡°We are in a great war for the soul of the world,¡± the knight said with evident exhaustion, ¡°and it shames me to say we are losing.¡±

    ¡°So then, why do you want on my boat?¡± Markez asked, confused.

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± the man declared, shocking his companion. ¡°Take these two and get as far from this evil place as you can, I will¡ª¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious!¡± the younger man yelled at the older one. They clearly hadn¡¯t thought this through at all. ¡°They will end you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s where I belong,¡± The Templar said simply. ¡°Only I can slay this foul beast. That is what this power is for. To end¡ª¡±

    That was when the thing rose from the dark, boiling waters just ahead of the ship. The children screamed and fled aft, but Markez could only look at the thing in awe. It was the most horrific thing that he was ever likely to see, from the tips of the broken swords that made up its rusted maw to the corpse of the woman that was chained inside of the rib cage where its heart should have been if it was alive.

    Just seeing that was enough to shave years of his life, and all he could do was stand there petrified while the two strangers sprung into action.

 Ch. 102 - Leviathan

    ¡°Find them! Kill Them! Let them not escape!¡± the Lich bellowed.

    The distant words thundered inside her skull like a monsoon that had made landfall. So many times, his orders were insistent but resistable, for it was hard to force water into any shape that it did not choose. For example, the day before when, the voice had demanded that she crush that boat. He¡¯d meant the one with the children, of course, but she had resisted, for she hated the slaughter of children and vented his bloodlust on the boat that had followed it instead.

    Given time, the Lich would have ordered her to destroy the second skiff too and drown all those innocent lives, but it had more important matters to focus on and had left her to gather the mangled bodies of the drowned and bring them back to its lair.

    Today, there was nothing to distract it from seeing its will done, and those commands built up with a tidal force that could not be denied. They were a lightning bolt into Oroza¡¯s heart. They made her shackles burn with power that made it impossible to resist her own destructive impulse. At least for the moment, though, she could face off against warriors that probably deserved it.

    The knight glowed with a light that no longer existed in the world that made her think of cool spring days after the snow melt had started in earnest, but the reminiscence wasn¡¯t enough to give her the strength to resist the Lich. She would save that strength for the moment it forced her to indiscriminately murder the children who were huddled in fear nearby.

    The knight led with a series of strikes as the white fire coruscating across his gilded armor burned even brighter. These weren¡¯t strong enough to do real damage. He was simply testing her mettle and buying time for his friend.

    At first, she thought the other man sought to escape. She hoped he did. Running him down would buy the children valuable time to flee. Some might yet escape with their lives.

    He didn¡¯t do that, though. He did something far stranger. He cast a spell, which was something she¡¯d only seen a few times since she¡¯d been chained to this corpse.

    Instantly, blue lightning struck her hard. It cooked the flesh where it went up her arm and then down into one of her left legs. It did very little damage, though, and she roared in annoyance more than pain.

    She charged him then, planning to deal with the mage before he could think of some more effective tactic. He responded with a burst of flames.

    The body of the swamp dragon was impossibly strong, and though the flames was enough to make her shy away for a moment due to her aversion, it could do nothing to the tanned skin or thick scales of her artificial, necrotic prison.

    As the wave of fire cleared, though, it was obvious that they¡¯d provided just enough distraction for the paladin to charge through him. The man was clearly insane, but his burns healed even as he moved, and when his glowing sword struck, it glanced off one of her ribs and pierced the heart of the dragon''s body, cutting all the way to where she was contained her in its chest.

    It was a violent, terrible pain that represented more damage than anyone had done to the monstrosity since Oroza herself had savaged it. It wasn¡¯t enough, though, and she batted him harmlessly away into the grass.

    Her blow didn¡¯t keep him down any more than his blow had kept her down, though. Neither did her tail. He dodged it entirely, though she did succeed in sending the mage sprawling. She doubted that one would rise again, which was just as well because she hated fire.

    He was back like a flash, charging her again. This time, despite the man¡¯s armor and his wounds, he danced around her next clawed swipe, though that was just a feint. He weaved around it, obviously intending to strike her again. He would probably even succeed in that before she managed to bite him in half. The man even used some of his holy magic to blind her, making her skin sizzle and smolder for a moment, but it was a foolish decision.

    After all, he¡¯d already jumped before his light had overwhelmed her dead eyes, and he couldn¡¯t change his trajectory in midair, so she still snapped at him, catching him in her maw and shaking him like a rag doll as her giant metal teeth ground against his armor. Several actually punctured it and sank satisfyingly into the flesh beneath, letting her feast on his blood.

    It was only while she tasted that warm, coppery draught that she finally felt the wound he¡¯d made as she¡¯d bitten him. With a powerful swipe, he¡¯d severed her right foot just below the calf, and for the first time in a long time, she was no longer fully attached to her bindings. She spat the man free, leaving him a crumpled, bleeding wreck on the ground, as she suddenly explored her current state of being.

    ¡°The spell¡­¡± she murmured, ¡°It¡¯s incomplete.¡±

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    And it was true. Each manacle had borne identical runes, and they''d been plated in gold when they¡¯d been created so long ago. Time had done its work, though, and now all of them were pitted to the point that even their redundancy wasn''t enough. So many had failed that there had only been a full set present if you combined all four manacles together, and one had just been opened in the grisliest way possible.

    ¡°Three circles is enough to hold a lesser goddess like you,¡± the darkness spat. ¡°Finish them, and I will have you repaired when this is done.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said, trying the word on for size and finding that she liked it.

    ¡°No?!¡± The Lich roared. ¡°Do as you are told, Oroza!¡±

    She didn¡¯t, though. The corpse couldn¡¯t hold her now, and neither could the words that passed through it. Not with only three worn and pitted manacles. All these decades since the darkness had captured her and turned her into a mockery of her true self, she¡¯d waited for the time and the tides to do their work.

    What chance did the Lich¡¯s efforts have against the forces that ground rocky promontories and breakwaters into nothing but fine beach sand? It was folly to assume that it could cage nature, no matter how much it poisoned her wellspring.

    She smiled then, for the first time since her capture, and strained at her manacles, ripping first the left out of the socket where the chain held it and then the right. The swamp dragon roared in pain as it reared up, unable to strike the final blow as she ripped the still-beating heart out of it.

    The mage was being dragged back toward the craft by some of the children and an old man, but the knight still lay there, just begging to be finished off. It couldn¡¯t strike the final blow, though, because she wouldn¡¯t let it. Any other opponent would already be dead, of course, but she watched the light pouring out of the bite marks decrease with every second as the flesh knitted shut again, but she didn¡¯t care.

    Even though she hated Siddrim¡¯s sheep and would have gladly killed him for the slights they had heaped upon her followers, she knew how much more the Lich that had held her leash for so long hated and feared them. So, he would live, but only because of spite.

    The swamp dragon roared to the skies, spasming as she leaned forward and ripped open the bars of the prison that had held her for so long, and then, with one last yank at the sole remaining manacle around her right leg, she was free.

    The bars of the ribcage were coated in ugly, rusted iron, but at their core, they were still bone, and when she crushed them, they fell apart like rotten wood in her rubbery finger. As Oroza jumped to the ground, free of her cage for the first time in an eternity, she was sorely tempted to immediately drop the corpse she¡¯d been bound to and flee into the water. She didn¡¯t, though. Not yet. She still had things to do.

    Standing there on one foot and one stump, she turned her attention to the straining corpse of the swamp dragon that loomed above her.

    ¡°You cannot escape me!¡± The Lich screamed in her mind, but she ignored it. Without the chains he¡¯d held her with for so long, his orders and compulsions passed through her, leaving only a ripple in their wake.

    ¡°I am no longer yours to command,¡± she whispered as she engaged with it in a battle of wills over what the swamp dragon would do next.

    Now that she was no longer attached to it, she¡¯d lost some of her advantages over the darkness that was trying to make the hodgepodge of reptile bones strike her down, along with all the other living creatures currently sheltered in her wake.

    They stood like that long enough for the knight to stagger to his feet and make his way toward the fragile boat that everyone else was already aboard. She ignored that, though. Instead, she forced the dragon to reach up and crush its own skull between its two monster paws while the Lich raged in her soul at what she was doing.

    That didn¡¯t stop her from forcing it to grab the structural clavicle that held her cage in place so long and rip it off of the rest of its body before it collapsed into pieces on the ground next to her.

    ¡°I shall rebuild my dragon and devour you once more, goddess!¡± the Lich bellowed, but she could hear its fear now.

    ¡°If you are foolish enough to enter my waters again, you shall be the one to pay the price,¡± she whispered. Already walking to the water.

    The Lich started to respond, but she didn¡¯t hear it. By the time it had started to scream again, her toes had touched the water of the river, of her river, and she immediately left the corpse, which collapsed into the shallows like a puppet with the strings cut.

    It was an exhilarating feeling. She knew she would never truly feel clean again thanks to all of the horrific things that the Lich had done to her, to say nothing of the things it had forced her to do. She still allowed herself a moment to just experience the feeling of being one with the river once more. Her consciousness rippled along the length of her domain, from the still-tainted headwaters to the brackish delta she¡¯d spent so much time in the last few years. Everything was where she had left it, more or less, and she could now begin again in the endless cycle of nature.

    First, though, she had to finish dealing with the Lich. With a thought, the current rippled, snatching the corpse that had been her for far too long and dragging it down into the depths for the fish and the eels to devour. She had no idea what the darkness might be able to do with something so powerfully associated with her, but she would rather die than find out the hard way.

    Once that was done, she blended in with the currents, finally unfurling the ghostly, sinuous nature that was a river dragon and using it to drag the boat back out into the channel and upstream against the current before the Lich could launch some new monster to slaughter all the children onboard the fragile vessel.

 Ch. 103 - Cut Off

    The very earth shook with Tenebroum¡¯s undiluted rage as the river goddess slipped the leash and succeeded in sliding back into her river, where she immediately vanished. In that moment, she accomplished something that no one had ever done before - she had escaped the Lich, defeating it in a way that bordered on humiliating, even if it had only lost a single soul in the process.

    Its very first thought, before the clouds of anger had even cleared, was to begin to imagine ways it might get her back. It could inscribe her true name on nets of woven metal. It could dig a reservoir deep beneath and trap her forever. It could build a giant cauldron and then boil her until she was nothing but cloudy vapor.

    All of these were dismissed by it as being utterly impractical. Instead, it forced itself to accept what it really needed to do: crush her without mercy. In all the years it had owned her, it had never succeeded in breaking her spirit the way that it had with Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s. The Lich had never determined if it was her element¡¯s nature or her fierce spirit that was the source of her resilience, but at this point, it no longer mattered.

    Even in its most paranoid flights of fantasy, it never presumed that the goddess would muster the strength to escape or to help its enemies. It was unimaginable. Up until now, the most she¡¯d been able to do was struggle to spare children or followers and, once, to delay her attacks long enough to try to get that pathetic creature Paulus to help her.

    None of those acts had even hinted that she¡¯d be capable of something like this, though. As it studied the wreckage of its oldest and best servant, it was plain to see what had happened. Salt and time had done their worst to the runes, and she¡¯d waited patiently for her waters to do their slow, inevitable work. It was frustrating but easy to see how it had missed it in its single-minded quest to destroy the light. The version of Tenebroum that had emerged from that experience vowed to focus more on those minor details going forward. It would never let this happen again.

    After all, it had been bad enough to lose one of its most powerful servants and watch the lone surviving Templar escape, but it did not realize the full depth of her betrayal until it finished the slaughter in the deeps and tried to dispatch a legion across the river to Dutton to finish the bloodbath it had started there. There was evidence that Siddrim¡¯s church was regrouping, and it hoped to launch a sneak attack on their tenuous supply lines, but it very quickly found out that was a bad idea.

    The first three ranks were getting close to the opposite shore when the river dragon suddenly appeared like the force of nature that she was. One moment, the water was just water, but moments later, it became impenetrable scales and devastating claws. In an instant, those clean ranks of bone, flesh, and steel that would have been difficult for even strong men to sunder were dashed to pieces by the treacherous currents.

    The Lich immediately reversed course and sounded the retreat, but it was clear that going forward, the long, familiar paths that it used to shield its soldiers from the light were lost to it. This was doubly painful since it had already destroyed all the strong stone bridges upriver in its quest to slow down the Crusaders.

    It tried to mend the crossing near Fallravea with timbers and magic, but no sooner had it made the way crossable than the waters around the central pillar began to boil and throb until the whole central support fell away into the dark, churning waters along with several zombies rendering the chasm unbridgeable.

    This outraged the Lich even further. Though its domain over the waters had been slipping constantly since her rebellion, it did not think she had the power to do something so blatant, but she did.

    ¡°You trifle with me at your peril, woman!¡± Tenebroum roared. ¡°If you seek war with me, then you shall have it!¡±

    It continued its reconnaissance of the lands beyond, noting the fear had ebbed to some degree as people had started to accept the new state of things. It doubted that would last long, though. This was a chilly summer, and the signs of the starvation to come were already starting to show in most fields. Grain would grow increasingly scarce this far south, and not even the increased hours of sunlight was enough to combat just how thin and weak that light had become.

    The darkness might not have won in a single stroke like it hoped, but if this was the peak of summer, then the world was in for a cruel awakening come winter. The Lich considered holding off on its advances until ice covered the Oroza once more in a few months.

    There was no telling what that frigid bitch would do then, though, it decided. So even trying to cross on a river that was completely frozen over probably still wouldn¡¯t be a good idea because she was very clearly fixated on thwarting it for the foreseeable future. In that, at least, it could not blame her. Albrecht had only caged its soul for a few years, and it still burned with hatred for the long-dead mage that became the skeleton of who it had become.

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    It had to come up with some other way to unleash its legions of death on the world. Ultimately, that probably meant killing the goddess and her river, but it wasn¡¯t sure how best to go about that. Tenebroum had already poisoned her river once, and though it wasn¡¯t sure when Paulus had removed the cholarium sieve, it was very clear that it was indeed missing from the spring where it had been installed when it sent a few shades to inspect it one night.

    That was almost ironic. It had noted that the poison levels in the river were falling, but it had never made the connection because it had kept a watch on the area with dead-eyed ravens and four-winged vultures for years, and the man had never appeared. The Lich silently fumed at that as it berated itself for its fixation on preparing the Temple of Dawn, but all it could do now was address the issue and install a new one.

    As soon as it did, something odd happened, though. The spring stopped flowing.

    Its servant placed the tainted metal in the pool just as it had done before, but as the drudge stood there, slowly dissolving from the caustic water, the pool became still, and the small stream that ran downhill slowly began to dry up. It took several minutes for Tenebroum to figure out what had happened. The goddess had literally chosen to cut off part of herself rather than allow it to poison her the same way twice.

    ¡°If Siddrim had possessed such steel, there would still be a sun in the sky.¡± the Lich growled with the faintest hint of appreciation as it watched her reject it completely. ¡°I wonder if your discipline will waver when we repeat this experiment at all your other headwaters.¡±

    The goddess gave no response to that. It was not something that it could execute tomorrow, though. Creating so much of the brittle anti-water would take a long time. It did set the necessary works in motion, though, just as it dispatched its leaded earth titan to the Red Hills.

    ¡°If she wants to reject my gifts and dry up rather than embrace me, then we shall have to find a new source to flood the Oroza,¡± it mused. ¡°Go west and dig a channel that reaches all the way to the sea. Connect Kelvun¡¯s canal with the ocean, and let¡¯s see if that doesn¡¯t twist the knife a little more for her.¡±

    Once that was done, and the poisoning of the river goddess was set in motion from all angles, it was free to focus on what needed to happen next. It needed a new way forward.

    In the end, it was forced to send the iron men that it had been building to cut it a new, deeper path to freedom. The legion of rust it had been building ever since the sacking of Mournden used cast rune plates to force the skulls of the dwarves it had so many of these days to create something that its fire godling had never been: obedient and loyal.

    The dwarves had a strong spirit, it was true. Each and every one of them, except for its mutilated and mutated hound, were much more likely to break than bend, but with their true names so helpfully engraved onto the mortal remains, it was easy to lead even the most obstinate ox with the right spell.

    It had been planning on unleashing a legion of a thousand such warriors to cut right through the walls of Abenend, which still had not fallen despite its best efforts. It was the last remaining holdout in the whole region, but it was not a priority right now.

    The church had been crushed, the last gasp of an army had been shattered, and their feeble efforts to build some kind of fortification to keep it contained were worrisome, but only because of their proximity to the river on the one side and the magic school on the other.

    As much as it would love to purge it from the map, that assault would have to be delayed for now until it could strike at all of them from some unexpected angle. Even though it would have much preferred to use the unique anti-magic properties of these soldiers, its need to be cut free of the box it found itself in was far more important.

    Every direction was barred to it, with the Wodenspine in the north, the Oroza to the east, and the Relict Sea to the west and south. Right now, the only conceivable way out of that box was to the northeast, through the narrow gap in the foothills.

    The problem with that was that all of its enemies expected it to do exactly that. They were converging there, and though Tenebroum could still likely win the exchange, it would come at a great cost, and after the damage the last army had done, it was in no hurry to lash out again unprepared. It would find another way that no one would expect.

    The good news was that the peninsula well and truly belonged to it now. There was little that still lived on it, but the creatures that did, be they human, goblin, or lizardmen, belonged to it body and soul. The bad news was that its fortress was also a cage.

    It hungered for fresh blood and souls as it always did, and no matter how much power it had siphoned from Siddrim¡¯s dying soul, that well would eventually run dry if it found nothing new to feast on. And there was so much life to the north. More than even, it knew about until it glimpsed the world through the eyes of the Lord of Light. Fallravea wasn¡¯t even a large city by comparison, and it hungered to reap the bloody harvest that those rich farmlands could provide, but first, it had to reach it in force, and the only way to dig a tunnel like that in anything approaching an acceptable timeline was to bend its army of tireless dwarves to the task.

    Once it did the math and realized that the zombie drudges would take decades to carve the path, it reequipped them with mithril-tipped picks rather than the steel swords and shields it had been forging for so long now. Yes, the path over the mountains was much too rugged, but a tunnel just below them might be completed in only a year or two. Then, it would vomit forth death on the continent in a manner that would leave no survivors.

 Ch. 146 - A Lifeless Husk

    Tenebroum feasted for three nights running before it finally decided that the city was now a lifeless husk. That first night, it gorged itself on the great masses of the living, leaving only the souls of the palace for the Voice of Reason to harvest and the remaining generals for its Dark Paragon to feast on.

    For the darkness, this wasn¡¯t about harvesting great minds for future plans; this was about victory and a truly bottomless hunger. There were times in the swamp when a single bloated corpse had been an unimaginable luxury. Now, an entire city wasn¡¯t enough to feed its bottomless hunger, and it had ripped the souls from the bodies of entire families at once.

    It had spent the following day slowly digesting its banquet of tens of thousands of souls in the catacombs beneath the city while the many rat vessels of Ghroshian cowered in the corners, avoiding direct contact. They were an interesting abomination, and Tenebroum looked forward to exploring their tiny connected minds once it was done with Rahkin.

    That wouldn¡¯t be for several more days, though. On the second night, it boiled to the surface like a hungry shark, searching for those few crumbs that had fallen from its table the night before. The strong, the clever, and the small made up its meal that night, and though there were only a few hundred of those resourceful men and women at sunset, it savored every last one even more for their rarity.

    By sunrise, none of them were left, and it retreated from the surface once again. This time, the rats were nearly as stuffed as Tenebroum, thanks to all the corpses their dark master had left in their wake. As a result, they were less skittish, and the two of them talked about many things while they sheltered away from the light.

    In this strange multi-tiered conversation, the two of them covered many topics, though they largely focused on the things that the rats could remember from ages past as well as the things that they had forgotten. They were able to answer, at least in part, one of Tenebroum¡¯s long-simmering questions: where were all the other evil spirits? Why were their Gods in the heavens but no evil Golds?

    This was something that Tenebroum had wondered about for over a decade, but not even the most learned mages it had devoured had a satisfactory answer for it. Ghroshian did, though.

    ¡°Long ago, before the age of the age of dawn that we lived in until recently, there were other spirits. There was a Goddess of death and any number of lesser cults,¡± the rats whispered, ¡°But as Siddrim rose in power, displacing the other lights in the heavens, he finally gained the strength to devour and obliterate them. Well, some of them. He was forced to bury my ashes after we rose from our own grave for the third time.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Tenebroum asked. ¡°What makes you special?¡±

    ¡°We do not know,¡± the rats confessed, ¡°But it has something to do with the primal nature of some spirits. A river goddess may not be killed while her river flows; she will only be born anew in a new form. The god of a city will not perish as long as people still live and trade in his domain. ¡±

    ¡°So you could not be destroyed because hunger still exists?¡± Tenebroum asked. ¡°An interesting theory.¡±

    In all their conversation, the darkness senses only meek obsequiousness and confusion from the rats. These tiny, fragile creatures might know its hunger, but they would never be a threat to the darkness.

    On the third night, there were no living creatures left alive in the city. There were no humans hiding in houses, cats scurrying on rooftops, or fish swimming in the harbor. Everything that had once moved and breathed was now a room-temperature corpse.

    That was when it began to devour the graveyards themselves. Groshin or other spirits had long ago devoured scraps of ethereal energy and memory that clung to the bones stacked in the mausoleums and crypts beneath the city, but in the graves of the churchyards, and the private sepulchers beneath the manses of noble houses, there was well-preserved dead that went back for centuries, and Tenebroum devoured each of their souls in turn, draining the city dry of every last spiritual remnant as it sought to purge it for its disobedience.

    The ancient dead had long since given up their souls to whatever afterlife awaited them, but there were traces of the person they¡¯d once been, and Tenebroum devoured those echos in a bid to fill the bottomless pit at the center of its own swirling maelstrom. This was unsuccessful, of course. It could devour the entire world and still feel the craving to know and possess more than it already did.

    It did learn scraps about the history of the city as well as those that had lived in it, though few of those memories held any real value. It did find many graves where the long dead were buried in finary of silver and gold, though, and it added each of those locations to its drudges¡¯ to do list.

    Even now, they were ransacking the city in an orderly fashion, gathering and sorting everything of value, including bodies, parts of bodies, weapons, and wealth, and setting it aside to be turned into new bits of artifice and new soldiers for its growing army. It was only when all that was done that it called for a meeting for the other spirits that served it in the Grand Temple of Rahkin.

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    The grand stone building was a place that had once been so holy that neither it nor any of its servants could have dreamed of standing there beneath the moonlit oculus of the vast place. Now, though, there was no one to stop them, and the assembled wraiths and skeletons stood there like something out of a mortal¡¯s deepest nightmare.

    Tenebroum came wearing only the skin of the nearest drudge, as its only body in the city that was worth wearing was still melted to slag. Repairing that might take half a year, given how far away its dwarven spirit-powered forges were.

    Its lieutenants, on the other hand, made up for its drabness with their distinctiveness. To its right stood the Dark Paragon, flickering with dark fire from the neck of its imposing armor. To its left stood the Voice of Reason. She held the spender crown of the Kingdom of Hallen and looked much different than when he¡¯d last seen her. Over the last three days, she had put the flesh surgeons to work and now wore the skin of the princess over her battered form, reclaiming most of the beauty she had lost in the explosion.

    Across from Tenebroum stood its silent titan next to a smoldering Krulm¡¯venor. The fire godling had become less talkative of late. That made it more obedient, but less fun to torture. The Dreamer floated between the two of them as little more than an iridescent outline. Past all of them, the Puppeteer flitted about the rest of them as a mass of tentacles wearing three heads attached to different limbs, and Ghroshian¡¯s countless red eyes glimmered like stars in the background of the conclave.

    Innumerable lesser spirits like its shadow dragon and the various flesh crafters that toiled endlessly for the Lich were missing, of course. Despite that, this was perhaps the greatest focusing of its strength in a single location that had ever experienced before, and the Lich took a moment to appreciate that.

    Here, the shadows swirled so thickly that the world lost its color, and the very fabric of reality distorted slightly. It, along with its spirits, was a truly irresistible force, and it had not even finished its corruption of the captured nature spirits or finished some of its other specialized projects.

    ¡°My victory is complete,¡± it said finally, ¡°This Kingdom is no more, and the only residents that yet live are those who venerate me!¡±

    There was only silence there for a moment before the Voice of truth stepped forward and said, ¡°Sire, this is yours,¡± before lifting the crown toward his head. Tenebroum leaned forward slightly so she could place it upon the brow of the skeleton it was wearing. It was odd, given that the thing otherwise wore only rags, but it accepted the token regardless.

    ¡°What are the next steps?¡± Tenebroum asked, turning to the Dark Paragon. ¡°Where do my armies march now?¡±

    ¡°North, sire, across the sun-scorched deserts to Bastom and all the lands that lay beyond it. There are several northern empires, and each is ripe for¡ª¡±

    ¡°A long march through the sunlit lands sounds less than optimal,¡± Tenebroum said cagily. ¡°What about a nautical approach?¡±

    ¡°Ships could be built and made fast against the sun with wreckage from the harbor,¡± the Dark Paragon agreed, ¡°But legions of soldiers should be safe enough in our approach as long as we stick to the dunes. We could¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do it then. Both plans. We will take a few months to gather our strength and incorporate all of these new soldiers into the army, and then we will head north for fresh blood at the turning of the year,¡± Tenebroum ordered. ¡°Be ready for it. I may have to divide you into pieces to create a new crop of generals, so I am not needed so far from my places of power.¡±

    ¡°As you command, my liege,¡± the general said with a slight bow, offering zero resistance to the idea of being lobotomized and used as spare parts to create a new series of spirits.

    In a sense, the Dark Paragon would die to create sons that would replace him. Even if the creature had protested, it would have changed nothing, but the fact that it had no sense of self-preservation heartened Tenebroum. The perfect servant was as talented as it was disposable, and by that measure the Dark Paragon was the best that it had ever created.

    It went around the room after that, asking for status updates and opinions on what it should do next. The Dark Paragon and the Voice of Reason both agreed that the Magica Collegium in Abenend should be their next priority, though both of them differed greatly on the right way to defeat such an enemy.

    The Voice of Reason argued that diplomacy could pay dividends in such a circumstance, while the Dark Paragon argued that only a massive attack would work on such a cagey opponent. Tenebroum agreed with their instincts but already had a plan in place for how they would deal with the damn mages, so it said nothing and moved along around the circle.

    The Dreamer delivered its answer in the form of a surrealist series of images where infants were planted in the dark earth and grew into crops of bloodthirsty men, the Puppeteer argued passionately in two different voices that it should winnow its growing priesthood and remove the most conniving, but only Ghroshian had something unexpected to tell them.

    ¡°Abenend¡­¡± a chorus of rats whispered. ¡°We know that name. Yes, we have heard it.¡±

    ¡°What of it,¡± Tenebroum snapped loud enough to make a third of the undead rodents scurry for cover.

    ¡°The wolf,¡± the chorus said as one. ¡°It¡¯s where they keep the wolf!¡±

    ¡°The wolf, eh?¡± Tenebroum said to itself. The Rats had spoken to it before of a wolf and a worm before. It remembered that much. If the wolf proved to be as deathless as the rats had been, then that was all the more reason for the darkness to end those wretched mages for good and all. It could always use another interesting spirit to experiment upon.

 Ch. 147 - Laying the Groundwork

    Even as it debated the decisions with its tiny pantheon of underlings and slowly began to make preparations for larger tasks, its minions spread in all directions. Some of those were fast moving cavalry units that galloped throughout the night on discordant hooves before they sheltered by day in bogs and ponds. The infantry units moved slower, both because of their short, human legs and the fact that they had to dig their own graves wherever they went.

    There were only three areas of concern now, though. The first priority was to surround Abenend.

    After that, some small measure of its forces was sent to the north to keep an eye out for any northern armies that might wish to disrupt things. A few scouting parties were also spared for the lands it had not yet ravaged to the south-east of Rahkin. Unfortunately, the northern part of Dutton County was already nearly abandoned.

    At least, that was what the Lich believed, it was only after almost a week of scouring out every trace of life at each isolated farmstead that its scouts reported a small village on the banks of the Tolden river that was still prospering.

    Normally that would have been enough for the Lich to descend on it and feast on the still living morsels itself, even if it was currently busy with arrangements for Abenend were it not for one small complication. After many days of discussions with its Dark Paragon, it had decided that further frontal assaults would be fruitless. This left them with two options: tunneling under the mages¡¯ school-fortress or laying siege to it.

    Of course, in a broad sense they had laid siege to the area for years now. It had done little good, though. The Wiley wizards somehow used their magic to sustain themselves even as the world collapsed around them.

    Tenebroum was just beginning to discuss a different sort of siege involving standing stones more than soldiers, but that was halted when the men and women with light in their eyes were found. That was enough to stop everything.

    Its troops retreated undetected, and instead a swarm of black birds was launched to go find out what new torment had been unleashed. It took days for more than a few of them to gather, but they revealed no dire news.

    Indeed, other than the fact that two dozen of the two hundred people in the tiny armed camp had glowing eyes, everything was as it should be. They were just humans preparing for the coming harvest. Other that a palisade and a sturdy gate they were as defenseless as anyone else.

    Still, the Lich doubted. There had to be more than meets the eye for such a strange occurrence to unfold. He suspected the work of the dead Templar, or if not him then evidence of another fallen star. The latter prospect was terrifying.

    If the gods were continuing to intervene in small ways at the edges of its domain, then who knew where they might strike at it next? The moon goddess might attack him again from anywhere in the sky, and the All-Father theoretically had everything beneath the ground within his domain. Then there were the gods of the sea and of nature to consider.

    Tenebroum didn¡¯t feel fear, but suddenly it¡¯s paranoia raged out of control and it sent spies in every direction and dark messengers to check on its distant strongholds while it focused on this one. Something wasn¡¯t right.

    As each of its minions reported back, though, all they had to say was that everything was as it should be. No reports contained anomalies, and no devastating attacks had been launched in unexpected places. Even the kidnapped nature goddesses were still trapped in their cells so that Tenebroum could experiment on them as time allowed.

    With trepidation, after several days it sent the dreamer forward to explore the minds of the villagers next, to try to get more information from their sleeping minds. The results were unexpected.

    The evidence of the light¡¯s touch had made the lich fear the worst, but all it had found were the embers of hope. ¡°This is where the Templar laid his head while he recovered from your last battle, sire,¡± the ephemeral Dreamer whispered. ¡°There was a mage too, and some children, but they are gone now.¡±

    ¡°Where did they go?¡± Tenebroum demanded.

    ¡°West,¡± the Dreamer said, playing a piece of a vision that showed the small band leaving. ¡°To take shelter with the mages at Abenend.¡±

    Even before the spirit had finished speaking, Tenebroum ordered a segment of his cavalry along with a small portion of the gathered raven flock to set out in search of the group. If they¡¯d been forewarned about its coming, then they must be pawns of some importance.

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    The trail was weeks old at this point, so magic would be of little aid. Still, it controlled all of the land between here and there, so there was nowhere they could hope to hide from its deathless eyes.

    ¡°Shall I dig deeper and discover who might yet serve you with their whole heart?¡± the Dreamer asked.

    ¡°Not this time,¡± Tenebroum answered, shutting down the topic immediately. ¡°They have been touched by the light, and I want only to consume them.¡±

    Once the Lich had determined that the danger was minimal, it sent a single neuroid to the tiny village, protected by half a legion of war zombies. They didn¡¯t attack though, they just got close enough to an unwatched portion of the palisade to fall under the spell of its minion''s psychic screams.

    By the end of the first night, half of the village had torn the other half into bloody shreds over paranoid delusions and imagined grievances. Even after its units retreated before the light of day, the killing continued. Later that night, its constructs returned to find only a bare handful left that hadn¡¯t been driven out of their mind by the maddening magics.

    That all of them had light in their eyes seemed to indicate that the Templar¡¯s blessing granted some kind of resistance, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Tenebroum took things slowly after that, sending back its minions each night just closely enough to ratchet the pressure up on the survivors as other minions studied which ones would crack first.

    It was only when there was a single survivor left that they finally moved in and hauled her away for further study. Her mind was completely broken at that point, and she was covered in the blood of her family, but she generated such a rich flavor of suffering that the Lich could not bear to put her down until it had delved more deeply into her mind.

    That would have to wait though. It had wasted more than a week of its precious time focused on this anomaly, and even as it devoured the light tainted souls, it turned its attention back to the true threat: the mages of the Magica Collegium.

    There, at least, the plan was simpler. Indeed, it was already ongoing. While it had focused on understanding the light¡¯s resistance to malign magics, its library had done the calculations, and all that remained was for its somber earth titan to do its job and create obelisks and standing stones at the required points, so that skeletal dwarven artisans could come along and carve the necessary runes to complete the spell.

    The theory was a simple one, it was only the scale that was grand. The mages had built their school in a very defensible and highly auspicious place. Perhaps at one point an army of Templars and Siddrimites might have been able to march into that valley and pit the love of their God against the combined might of centuries of learning and study, but no mortal army had dared attempt it, almost since the founding of the institution.

    The forces of darkness had already annihilated the surrounding town, but in the three waves since the initial attack they had done very little damage to the walls themselves. The mages simply possessed too much firepower and too many tricks. So it would take those away, and then it would slaughter them to the last and feast on their secrets so that it would be its future enemies that might know that pain rather than its own forces.

    Such a large plan required many parts, though. Its last few attacks had come from forces that had gotten as close as possible via the caves that ran throughout the mountains. Those entrances had long since been collapsed, but without much in the way of dwarven interference, it would not be hard to rebuild tunnels that went right into the basement of their fortress.

    All it would take, was time. That too was fine, since the fourteen monuments that would have to be raised, and the Strangulite that would have to be fabricated to power them would also be extremely time-consuming.

    What Tenebroum would have preferred to do was create a magical deadzone that blanketed the whole area, but the equations and forecasts had dubbed that infeasible. Were it to stop all mana from flowing in along the usual routes, more would just come in from elsewhere. Even if the Lich managed to succeed, then it would not be able to follow up with the coup de gras, because its own constructs would have difficulty operating in such an environment.

    Instead, it would have to settle for twisting the current of magic that flowed along the Wodenspine range, and make them unpredictable and alien to the mages. Anti elements in the peaks would poison the currents that flowed through them as surely as it had crippled Oroza when it poisoned her waters.

    That wouldn¡¯t stop them from casting their spells, though, but poisoning the nature and flow of mana would make the results very unpredictable. Albrecht had experienced only the smallest taste of that once the darkness wormed its way inside the man¡¯s soul all those years ago. Soon, his peers would get a taste of the very same thing, and in the chaos, the Lich would storm their fortress and murder all of them.

    Oroza. For a moment that word sent a thrill of rage through it, and Tenebroum only pushed it down by force of will. She is not a priority, it repeated to itself for the hundredth time as it forced itself to calm down. Her river has been poisoned in every way, and she will die along with it while I focus on more important matters.

    The Lich had many more important tasks to do, of course. It had to split the soul of its paragon into perfect copies to prepare for all the wars to come, it had to finalize the spirits in its dark garden, or at least end them and give them up as failures, and of course, it had to use the very air itself to create a dread sort of alchemy. Compared to those tasks, Oroza¡¯s ultimate fate was less than meaningless. Whether she died tomorrow or a decade from now, she could barely even challenge it in the waters of her own river anymore.

 Ch. 148 - The Dark Garden

    Even as it planned the assault and set its forge ghasts and its hammer weights to crafting magic resistant weapons and armor from the bones and armor of long dead dwarves, it turned its mind back toward more important tasks. When night next fell, it soared halfway across its domain from Rahkin to the hub of activity that was Constantium.

    The city was still devoid of life. Even the plants had withered and died because of the overwhelming amounts of unlife as well as the caustic embalming fluids and tanning liquids that spilled so frequently on the ground. Despite that, it was still a hub of activity.

    During the day, those activities were limited to the growing catacombs that hummed beneath the place as well as the Grand Temple. However, by night, the streets would come alive in a parody of the life that would normally be present in such a large city.

    There was no food, or merriment, though. There was no buying and selling, there were only drudges carrying bones from the beetle pits and fresh armor from the forges so that all the component parts could be assembled smoothly by the silent supervisor of its city factory.

    Even that dread giant had grown in both size and complexity to account for new techniques and workflows, and each of the pillars that held up the giant dome were lined with appendages, handing off constructs in different stages of completion. Truly, it was a work of beauty well beyond the mortal mind. If anyone with a pulse had ever seen the thing in action, they might have died on the spot from the dread gaze of its 300 eyes that lined the dome and monitored all the work as it was being performed.

    That was not why Tenebroum had returned here, though. There were no problems here, and if there were, they would not be the fault of its industrial strength fleshcrafters. They had no will. They existed only to bring to life the horrors of its mind, not to improvise or even object.

    With everything else going on, Tenebroum would have liked to delegate the tasks that would be necessary to experiment with its captured goddesses, but in the end such important work ultimately could only be done by it alone. They were simply too valuable as specimens. Even if it was unable to turn them into something grander, then it might yet learn a great deal simply by dissecting them.

    Whatever it decided, though, it would need to be done soon. Cut off from light and life in its lead and stone dungeons, they were wilting a little more every day. Gods of nature were not meant for stygian captivity, and though it might have simply consumed their souls and gained more power. As a result, another servant with a new domain would be much more valuable to it.

    Oroza had taught it a tough lesson, though, and it would not let them escape. The first in doing that, of course, was to learn their true names.

    For some Gods and Goddesses that might have been impossible, Even the names that they were worshiped by sometimes had little in common with their true names. Siddrim had several secret names it had learned, but it wasn¡¯t until Tenebroum had consumed the other god that it had learned there were several more names that it hadn¡¯t known.

    For nature goddesses, at least, though, that was easy enough. It simply spread its blackbirds far and wide and looked for forests and natural areas that seemed to be dying for no discernible reason. Once it had identified those three places, it was simply a matter of torturing the three bark-skinned women until it found out which name belonged to which forest goddess.

    It was a straightforward process. Soon, Tenebroum figured out that the three small gods it had stolen were Tarieneian Vale, Verdant Glade, and Thornwood. Each of the women was slightly different, in both demeanor and appearance, in ways that suited the territories they called home.

    Only one of them, Tarieneian Vale appeared almost human. She had skin of bark of course, but otherwise she looked very much like a woman. The other two, though, were much less so. Verdant glade was more like the outline of a person made from foliage, and rarely spoke. Thornwood was the most alien. She was a constantly shifting set of brambles that appeared as an animal much more often than a person.

    Unfortunately, its every attempt to chain any of the three, failed repeatedly. No matter how it attempted to chain them with manacles of servitude, they would grow in such a way that the bonds would slip free within only a few days. Only the wards of the cell itself held them reliably, which was far from ideal.

    It was maddening. In the end, the Lich was forced to improvise, and made the dark garden itself it¡¯s means of control. This undertaking was grander, but less complicated. It simply chose an unused plaza in Constantinal and after the runes were carved by night in the stone of the place, its servants began to fill the whole thing with grave earth.

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    The hardest part of the project, as it turned out, was choosing which plaza would least impact everything else that was happening since Constantinal had become so busy. It knew that if it gave them a single opening, they would escape the way that Oroza did. So, even before it installed them in that lifeless courtyard, it installed leaden rings inscribed with each of their names to keep them from spreading their roots too widely.

    Once that was done, it salted the earth in the rest of the place so that not even a blade of grass would grow. It was only then, when all was in readiness that it replanted them and observed what came next.

    To start with, all of the women became trees that grew quite quickly at first. They¡¯d thought that with enough strength, they might pierce the stone beneath them or bridge some kind of connection to the rest of the vegetation outside the city and vanish, but that was not possible. All they had done in the process was take in a tremendous amount of taint from the grave earth instead.

    Tenebroum let them acclimatize to this and grow new leaves and buds before it started to add Cholorium to their water, feeding the three slender trees a steady diet of poison and unquiet dreams.

    After that, its drudges began to carve profane symbols into the bark of all of them on a regular basis. The former was to continue to increase its grip on their foreign element of wood, while the later was merely to provoke a response from those that might be watching.

    Those markings would vanish in a few days, and the spirits within the wood barely even cried out in pain, but then, they weren¡¯t the intended audience. Now that the Lich had shown its hand, it knew that somewhere out there, the Moon and the rest of her friends were watching and waiting for their chance to rescue.

    Tenebroum had prepared for that, too, and had several creative countermeasures prepared for just such an eventuality. There were watchers and guardians every night. During the day, the whole operation was far more vulnerable, but its artisans were working on the completion of a mechanical trap that would slide a rusted awning across the whole area and lock anyone foolish enough to attempt to free its prisoners inside with them.

    There were a few false alarms, but the conflict it had hoped to bait never happened. So, when it became apparent that its enemies would be patient, it decided to test that patience with a bit of brutal theater.

    First, its drudges installed a second, larger binding ring to accommodate all three of them, and then, seeds from each were planted and allowed to grow before the three trees were chopped down and burned to ash.

    It was done on the night of a full moon to ensure that the show reached its intended audience. Despite how terrible of a scene it was, Lunaris never attempted to intervene, though. Instead, Tenebroum feasted on the agony of its prisoners alone and then proceeded to twine the trunks of the new bodies together while they were still flexible saplings.

    The trees resisted this, and it was forced to use steel chains that had been profaned with terrible engravings to force them into an unnatural shape long enough that it started to become permanent. It was only when their forms began to blend that it started to work on their spirits.

    Tenebroum was a cruel God, but in many ways, this was the cruelest thing it had done since it had given Kelvun his richly deserved reward. It had to be, though, both because of the assumed audience of this project, and because of the level of brutality that would be needed to destroy three individual spirits and turn them into one new monstrosity.

    At first, they endured this monstrosity silently. Even when its servants began to feed its prisoners more poison and prune their branches to force terribly unnatural symmetries on it, they did nothing. It was only when it began to prune their very souls that they began to beg once more.

    The Lich hoped that their silent screams would carry for many miles for those with the ears to hear them. It was only when those wounds were fresh that it began to stitch them together that it could see a glimmer of what they would become when all this was done.

    The Lich was very familiar with the idea of sharing its soul with others. It had done so since almost its earliest days. Initially, the shade and the murderer had warred and feuded in its heart, but by the time the mage and pieces of its first dozen victims swirled there, too, it had become normal.

    It would never be normal for these three godlings, though, and with a midnight thread spun from pieces of its own tattered soul, it began to turn three women into one. For now, it started with minor enough operations. After all, they hardly needed three heads and thirty fingers between them. These rounds of psychic surgery were incredibly taxing for them, of course. They had to be. All of his subjects wanted to die.

    So, Tenebroum would have to give them frequent breaks and occasionally stop poisoning them for weeks at a time. Despite that, progress was made. Slowly, wounds healed closed, thoughts began to mix, and day by day, what had been three fae and beautiful women became a terrible chimera.

    Even tied together so tightly they would never escape, they still weren¡¯t one by any stretch of the imagination, of course. They warred within their strange braided tree as they fought to preserve themselves at the expense of the other two Goddesses that now shared their soul.

    It was a losing battle, though, and in the end whatever this produced was unlikely to look like any of them.

 Ch. 149 - Something New

    When it shattered its Dark Paragon, Tenebroum expected each of the four identical fragments to grow into a separate clone of the original. Not only would that allow it to better manage its sprawling armies that were scattered almost haphazardly across the land by this point, but it would allow them to focus on multiple tasks at once while it, devoted itself to more important projects.

    This would only become more necessary as the scope of its wars increased. Soon, there would be more armies, more enemies, more fronts, and more factory cities for all of the above. Even as powerful as it was, it could not do all of those things while plotting to bring down the remaining gods. So, delegation to effective minions was no longer optional, if it had ever really been before.

    The Lich had planned to devote one to advancing to the north, one to building its drowned fleet, another devoted solely to monitoring the mages, and the fourth to cleaning up any loose ends in its current domain.

    Unfortunately, one of the four souls began to mutate almost immediately. It was easy to see the change, even after only a few days.

    The other three were slender shards of ephemeral green glass that slowly rebuilt themselves, the way a mosaic might if you planted a single tile in fertile soil and gave it room to grow. The fourth one, though, was a spidery thing that continued to grow like a cancerous weed.

    The Lich tried to trim it back to its crystalline core twice. Both times, it cut off so much that the thing almost dissolved completely into ether. That didn¡¯t change anything, though.

    If anything, the thing grew back more gnarled than before, with sharp edges and little barbs as it sought to defend itself against the unknown attacker. It lashed out at the Lich, which was almost enough for it to shatter the thing on principle. Still, it was harmless, and the barbs attempting to infect the maelstrom that was Tenebroum¡¯s soul with were quickly snuffed out.

    The deformed soul was a strange, aggressive thing, but it wasn¡¯t strong enough to do any real harm. Still, as an experiment, it was interesting enough to preserve, but it was dangerous enough that the Lich couldn¡¯t just let in grow unmonitored. So, it moved it back into the soul forge and locked it up tight until the appropriate binding circle could be built to contain it.

    There was a wonderful aggressiveness about it, Tenebroum decided, and even if it would never become a general on the field of battle, it might yet become some new type of weapon. Even in failure, it could find purposes for most of its creations.

    After briefly checking in on its twisted plant Goddesses and pruning them again while they learned to speak in a single voice, the Lich moved on to Rahkin to observe its naval preparations. There it found the Voice of Reason lording over a dead kingdom, and she quickly provided all the updates he requested, showing him not just the ships that were already refloated and repaired but the ones that still lay at the bottom of the harbor where the dead could work on them night and day without regard to the sunlight.

    It was a clever arrangement, and the Lich approved. ¡°Your efforts do you credit,¡± Tenebroum praised her. ¡°See that they continue.¡±

    Of course, they would for the foreseeable future. Its zombie leviathan had destroyed almost every ship in the harbor during its attack, and so there were still innumerable wrecks to choose from. Even when those started to run low, though, there were plenty of wooden structures in the city that could be torn apart for additional timber.

    The fleet was undoubtedly ugly in the eyes of men, but that hardly mattered. Neither the eyes of men, nor their preferences were of any concern to the Lich. What mattered were the enchantments that were even now being laid on those blood-soaked keels. They would enable the black fleet to use unnatural storms and fog to both block out the hateful sun and to catch unwary ships at sea as they probed further north for weakness.

    Tenebroum was under no illusions that it would catch them by surprise, of course. Even now, the meddling gods were already doing what they could to thwart it. It was certain that the people to the north would be better prepared than the Kingdom of Hallen. However, that mattered little since it was equally sure that it would crush them. These ships would make effective scouts, but they would make even more effective plague ships, and they would sow panic and blight wherever they landed when the time was right.

    Of course, some of them would exist just to be bait for the Goddess of Sea and Storms, should she decide to intervene. Istiniss had, so far, largely stayed away from its plans. That was almost certainly because the Goddess of the seas had seen how easy it had chained her sister, the river Goddess, and opted to steer clear.

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    The darkness knew that couldn¡¯t last forever, though. Eventually, she would come for him, and he would have ships filled to burst with poison ready for her, just waiting to be ruptured. For a few days, it mulled over the idea of crafting the defective soul shard it had created into a harpoon of sorts and using it to snare the Goddess before deciding against it. If it was going to create projectiles sharp enough to pierce the soul of a God, then there were better targets to choose from.

    . . .

    Once those were all on track, Tenebroum returned to the most important task: watching the isolated citadel of mages as its invisible noose slowly tightened. Over the last few weeks, while its paragon shards grew to fruition, it had begun to fabricate Strangulite. The machinery to craft it had been finished years before, shortly after it had succeeded in making its shadow drake fly, but since Tenebroum had no pressing need for the stuff in all this time, it had never begun production.

    Now that the time had arrived, it ordered its servants to kick things into motion. The giant cylinder that served as the door to its inner sanctum began to rise and fall rhythmically, hour after hour. It was both a door and an elevator, but it was something else, too: it was a pressure chamber. Though most of the shaft beneath it was devoted to the plumbing for the pressurized water that allowed it to rise and fall, the central core held a single hand-sized conduit of air.

    When the runes activated, the air in the tall, narrow chamber was compressed, along with a very fine dust made of corpse ash and souls of those who had died of suffocation. The air crystallized, forming a lens no larger than a dinner plate, which could be carved into any number of shapes depending on the requirements of the spell.

    In the same way that Cholerium would turn normal water to a poisonous acid and Stygium would not burn from normal fire, even as it burned the undead to ashes, Strangulite, in its raw form, did nothing but make the air that passed through it quite unbreathable.

    That was of no concern to its servants, of course, but if properly cut and polished to form a lens with the right convexity, it poisoned the essence that passed through it in a similar way. These effects had been predicted by the heads in its library, but even so, when it came time for experimentation, those were done far from the seat of its power, by lesser mage souls that it would not be bothered to lose.

    For this work, they were disposable, because it had no wish to track whatever the secondary effects of those foul magics were into any of its seats of power. The experiments started off simple enough. It took a mage with an ample supply of tainted essence and had it cast some very basic spells. It summoned fire and lightning. It attempted to raise the dead or use basic wards to protect it from the magic of its opponents.

    None of those effects worked as expected. The flames appeared, but they sputtered and died before long; they were only ever more smoke than fire. Lightning likewise came into existence, but it arced and split more than it should, scarring the ground around its target without actually hitting it.

    It was the wards that were the most interesting, though. Wards and binding rings were complex things, and each symbol and connection needed to work properly for them to function. Changing only a single symbol at random could make the whole thing behave differently than it should.

    This was exactly what happened when the strangulite-tainted essence charged the symbols that had been drawn into the wet earth. The whole thing went haywire. First, power began to arc between symbols that had no connection, and then a few of them exploded under strain they should never have been subjected to before the whole thing imploded.

    Unfortunately, the skull that the spirit that was performing these experiments was bound to was swallowed up in that vague spacial distortion and vanished without a trace. Even after extensive study, Tenebroum was unable to determine what happened to it and was forced to delay further testing for two days while another bound mage was delivered to the testing location.

    All in all, the results were impressive, and the Lich¡¯s only concerns were that releasing this weapon so near its lair might have unforeseen consequences for it in a way that the first two elements never did. Fortunately, the perverse wild magic effects seemed to fade almost immediately, falling by 90% within three days and 99% within two weeks.

    While that still wasn¡¯t enough that it would ever conduct experiments of this type near the giant rune encrusted catacombs that anchored it to the earth, it was enough that it no longer had qualms with the idea of embedding these gray cobweb filled lenses in the standing stones that were even now being constructed.

    However, these interactions, would require some changes to the design. The Lich had not been aware of the effects that these perverse currents would have on the runes when construction had started. Now, with this new data, the stones seemed as likely to detonate themselves as they did to poison the Collegium¡¯s magic.

    So, it started again, where it had to, on better designs that would summon the storm winds and aim them in a particular direction for an extended period of time. As it did so, Tenebroum wondered idly how long it would take the mages to notice exactly what it was doing.

    Would they try to attack its monoliths? Would they even be able to find them? Teneborum wondered. It wasn¡¯t sure. Truthfully, it wasn¡¯t even sure how it would go about looking for such a source and set a quartet of minds to the task immediately. How could you locate something when it warped the very divination that you sought it with?

    It was only when it was fine-tuning those structures and raising the height of the lens so that the runic ring that anchored and powered each monolith was well clear of the poison it generated that it finally occurred to the Lich that it never found the mage it had sought in the immediate aftermath of Rahkin¡¯s fall.

 Ch. 150 - Sanctuary

    The first day that Jordan had helped his charges travel east after first traveling to the west, he felt like a moron. Even knowing that something greater was at work, he felt like he¡¯d immediately regret his decision to leave his childhood home. That didn¡¯t change as the house that had always protected him or in any of the chilly days that followed.

    They traveled east for a day, then forded the river before continuing east-south-east toward the coast. Each day was bleaker than the last, and with so many mouths to feed, it wasn¡¯t so long before their food supplies were running low. On the fifth day he brought a deer down with a lightening bolt, just to keep anyone from going hungry.

    He worried that whatever was looking for them might be able to find him from that little spell, but Sister Annise assured him that the darkness couldn¡¯t find them now, no matter what they did. ¡°Besides,¡± she volunteered. ¡°The evil that haunts this land is too busy tearing apart your manor, even as we sit around this fire.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Jordan gasped. ¡°How can you possibly know that?¡±

    ¡°See for yourself,¡± she said with a shrug, handing him the Book of Ways as she opened it to a page, seemingly at random. ¡°These things are decided well in advance, and neither you nor I can stop them. We are all of us slaves to fate.¡±

    Jordan ignored her often repeated line and instead studied the page, noting with annoyance that it was dominated by a large illustration of the manor house they¡¯d just abandoned.

    It was drawn in red and black, and though it wasn¡¯t impossible that Sister Annise could have done it herself, if she¡¯d been able to see, in this picture, though, it was on fire. That wasn¡¯t the detail that caught his eye, though.

    As he peered closer, he saw a tiny smuggled illustration of a thing near the house. It would have been impossible for the average person to say what it was that the thing was supposed to be. More than anything it looked like an overgrown scarecrow.

    Jordan recognized it immediately, though. How could he not? That hideous tentacled brain had haunted his dreams for years. Of all the sights he¡¯d seen in that pit. That one was the most terrible, and if he hadn¡¯t burnt it to a crisp with coruscating electrical fire, it would have driven all of them insane and made them rip each other to pieces.

    Just thinking about it again after all this time made him remember that terrible paranoia and he turned to the spidery text, trying to gain some insight into what was going on here. What he found was only further horror.

    ¡®By the second night, less than a half of the inhabitants of Sedgim Manor still breathed. A few had run to the Greywood, but due to the inaucpicious nature of the stars, they turned on each other too in a series of terrible misunderstanding.

    Since they were not directly under attack, none of the survivors understood the danger of baracading themslves into unused rooms to escape the madness. That was folly, for when the metal abomination returned after the fourth sun was set, most of those that were already weakened by its previous assaults succumbed to a number of creative suicides.

    Though most of those with light in their eyes managed to hold on to much of their wits, Britha chose to¡ª¡¯

    Jordan tore his eyes and slammed the book closed. What in all the hells did I just read, he wondered. He turned to Sister Annise to ask her, but when he realized her answer would be a repeat of so many others, he thought better of it and opened the book again, searching for the page to examine it further.

    Just like before, though it had vanished. He searched by firelight, and eventually, he found the page he thought it had been, but now the manor had been burned to ruins, and the words no longer described the same thing. Instead, it talked about how quiet the town was now that the survivors had been rounded up and dragged off by the minions of death.

    He shuddered and would have shouted obscenities if he didn¡¯t have the children to consider. ¡°Is this what will happen, or what has happened?¡± he asked finally.

    Sister Annise shrugged. ¡°What you read is the history of now. Whether they happened yesterday or tomorrow is a meaningless question. No matter what say they happen on, they cannot be changed.¡±

    ¡°So I couldn¡¯t save them?¡± Jordan asked, feeling like he had their blood on his hands. ¡°Not even if I summoned the storm winds? I could be there tonight. I could¡ª¡±

    ¡°If you found a way to raise Siddrim from the dead and channel his full fury on the monsters in the region, you would only delay this,¡± she sighed. ¡°Our destinies cannot be changed. They have already happened.¡±¡¯

    Jordan flipped to the next page and saw a picture of them sitting around the fire. He read about the conversation he¡¯d just had.

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    ¡°The blind prophetess assured the skeptical mage that what has already happened cannot be changed, then, before he could ask her about the god of secrets or the trials to come, she took the book and¡ª¡±

    He didn¡¯t get to finish reading, because no sooner had he read it, then she snatched the book back from him and shut it tight before putting it in her bag. ¡°Hey!¡± Jordan protested. ¡°I was reading that!¡±

    ¡°You were,¡± she agreed. ¡°But you should read no further than you have to. Reading too far into the future is bad for the eyes.¡±

    ¡°Trust me, I know,¡± she chuckled darkly. ¡°Sufficed to say, I have seen enough to know the way, and you shall know it soon as well.¡±

    ¡°What is the tower?¡± Jordan asked. ¡°And the God of Secrets? You¡ª¡±

    ¡°The tower is where we will find the hermit,¡± she said blandly. ¡°And all the other questions can wait until we get there.¡±

    Jordan was less than thrilled by the answer. However, what had started as a quiet conversation had become heated enough to attract the interest of the children, and that was enough reason for him to drop it. If he continued, there would be questions, and as brave as these light-eyed kids could be, he had no wish to force the responsibility of how dire their situation had gotten on those who were so young.

    . . .

    They traveled for two more days and nights before they found the barrier. Well, barrier wasn¡¯t exactly the right word. It was a line in the sand that he sensed as soon as they crossed it, though.

    One second, they had crossed through the thin pine forest and were making their way down a dreary peninsula toward the sea, and the next, they were on the other side of the line, and they could see a small village and, at the far end of the spit of land that jutted off into the sea. Just beyond it, there was a lighthouse, too.

    No, not a lighthouse, he corrected himself: a tower. It was white and elegantly tapered to a conical blue roof that blended with the sky, but it had too few windows for a lighthouse, and the shimmering that emanated from it was not any source of mundane lighting.

    Before he could give much thought to it though, he focused on the fact that it had just appeared out of nowhere. That was far stranger.

    ¡°Did you feel that?¡± Jordan asked, turning to sister Annise.

    ¡°Why would I?¡± she asked. ¡°I am no mage. The veil barely exists to me.¡±

    ¡°Why would it matter that I¡¯m a mage?¡± Jordan asked.

    ¡°Because the veil doesn¡¯t exist if a mage isn¡¯t here to power it,¡± she said with a patient smile as if she was telling someone something they had known but forgotten. ¡°This is why you are the Shepard. Because your flock could never find sanctuary without you.¡±

    Jordan studied her expression, but said nothing as he marveled at her non answer. Until she¡¯d spoken he¡¯d thought that what they¡¯d just passed through was something like an illusion, but her answer implied it was more like a pocket world. Such things possible, theoretically, but Jordan doubted that any ten masters at the Collegium Arcanum could construct a thing like this without divine inspiration from Lunaris or another of the gods.

    For now, all he could do was study the landscape. No one but him seemed to be perturbed by the sudden change. Indeed, the children were more than happy to accept the change and quickly shed their cloaks to enjoy the suddenly sunny weather.

    It would have been picturesque, of course, if the whole scene hadn¡¯t just suddenly changed. If there had always been a village and a lighthouse clinging to the edge of the land while a sea roared in the background, then he would have been sure they¡¯d finally found a refuge. As it was, though, his doubts were thick enough to blot out even the menacing red sun that was only now climbing toward its zenith to chase the grey one that had already moved past it.

    The village, they quickly discovered, was called Landsend, which was evocative, if not particularly creative. They were greeted by the locals more warmly that expected. It only occurred to Jordan after a few minutes of conversation that these people had no idea what was happening in the world outside their little bubble, or whatever this was.

    ¡°You don¡¯t get out much, do you?¡± he joked at one point.

    ¡°Out?¡± one of the farmers who¡¯d been handling much of the talking said, ¡°Why would we want out? To leave the veil would be to share its doom.¡±

    ¡°Doom?¡± Jordan asked, trying to draw out more details.

    He was disappointed, though. Instead, the man shook his head and said, ¡°These are not topics for a farmer. I confess to knowing little and understanding even less. You must speak to Tazuranth; he¡¯ll want to speak to you in the evening after supper, I¡¯m sure of it.¡±

    Tazuranth? Jordan wondered, sure he¡¯d heard that name before. He seemed to recall that someone from the dawn age had such a name, but he had not been particularly interested in the histories and legends of long dead mages, so he could not say precisely what the man was known for, or why someone would want to name themselves after such a figure, but he was sure he there was a reason.

    That question didn¡¯t last long. Soon enough, logistics became more important. There were no spare cottages, but there was a barn that wasn¡¯t used much anymore, and they quickly set to work cleaning and organizing that to create a refuge. They¡¯d eaten almost all their animals, but that did not seem like it was going to be a problem. After all, the village of Landsend was prosperous enough. They had fish, sheep, goats, and cattle, along with several steep step-terraced fields that were full of crops of all types.

    A few years ago, any village in the county might have looked like this. Some would be better, and some might be worse. Now, it was a paradise that they dared not dream of, and for better or worse, it was home for the foreseeable future.

 Ch. 151 - Pieces of the Puzzle

    Tenebroum regarded the golden cage full of squirming rats impatiently as it scryed into their flimsy souls. It did not find deceit there, nor even signs that it would normally think of as intelligence. It never did. Instead, it found only fear and hunger-fighting their eternal war against one another.

    ¡°Tell me about Malzekeen,¡± it commanded again. ¡°In detail this time. Everything that comes to mind.¡±

    ¡°W-we don¡¯t recall details; it¡¯s been much too long for them. They have tried up and blown away.¡± the rats cried out as one in a keening, squirming chorus. None of them could make whole words, but each of them could make parts of words in a way that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. ¡°All we remember are the wrath and ruin¡­ That endless terrible light¡­ Then all of it, everything, and everyone was gone.¡±

    The Lich was uncertain if they were referring to the fate that had befallen the city, or if they were instead referring to the wolf and the worm that it sometimes spoke about instead. The two concepts were almost as entwined in the rat¡¯s mind as it was in various texts that the Lich¡¯s servants had pored through.

    ¡°Nothing?¡± the Lich grumbled in annoyance. ¡°Remind me, which one is wrath and which is ruin?¡±

    ¡°Wrath has the sharpest teeth,¡± the rats called out, ¡°Ruin¡¯s bite is much slower but even deeper.¡±

    The Lich sighed mentally. I hated dealing with this broken thing.

    It had already found some answers in the mind of its library and more in ancient books in places like Sidddrimar, Constantinal, and Rahkin. It had specialty constructs in those and other places that did nothing but read and remember. Those undead were uncharacteristically thoughtful, and so it had made them uncharacteristically weak to prevent any problems as they sifted through centuries of knowledge, looking for an uncertain number of needles in a variety of different haystacks.

    Its readers were little more than drudges, save that they¡¯d been given the minds of learned men, and their skulls had been sliced open cleanly and hinged on top. This was so that when those minds were full, they could be replaced, and fresh minds could be installed so they might continue their research.

    It had found a number of surprising details so far, but many of them were contradictory. Malzekeen seemed to be both a place and a group of dread gods that may or may not have been from that place. The details were unclear.

    All that everyone agreed on, was that the place was either lost in the northern deserts which were apparently created when Siddrim smote them for their foul ways, or it was off the east coast of the continent, sunk beneath the waves because the Lord of Light had decided that it was so foul to his sight and so irredeemable that it had moved the very world from its place in the heavens to drown them.

    Though the Lich thought that either story was possible, and its presence in both locations was unlikely, it had dispatched servants throughout the area to search for the ancient ruins. Despite those efforts, and the fact that it apparently had one of the survivors in its hands, it still could not find any clues to narrow the search area down further.

    As a last resort, the Lich had brought a caged sample of the larger swarm back to its lair so that it could investigate them more thoroughly in its soul forge, but even that had limited utility. Individually, the rats were simply too insubstantial.

    They required some critical mass to take on the spark of true intelligence. While that was an interesting detail, it was happy to study, no matter how many of the rat souls it had to shred for answers, it did not help Tenebroum find the answer that it was looking for.

    ¡°What of the wolf and the worm then?¡± the Lich asked again, with growing impatience.

    ¡°What of them?¡± the rats answered. ¡°They are our brothers, lost to us for all this time.¡±

    ¡°Do you think they yet live?¡± the Lich asked.

    ¡°Always dying, but never dead,¡± the rats agreed. ¡°Unless new deities of wrath and ruin have risen to take their place.¡±

    The Lich paused to consider whether or not it qualified as wrath or ruin, but decided again it. It wasn¡¯t sure if it know of course, but it liked to think it would. If things were so broad as that, then surely its eternal avariceness and greed would have long ago stolen Groshin¡¯s power too, wouldn¡¯t it?

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    If it had to characterize itself, it would give itself the labels of darkness and death more than anything symbolic. Is wrath the same as death in the end, though? It wondered.

    It couldn¡¯t say. Instead, it passed along the philosophical question to its library and returned to the topic at hand. ¡°Were you always separate creatures, or were you more than that?¡±

    ¡°My brothers were never far from us,¡± the rats squeaked. ¡°Not until the Lord of Light burned us to ash and dust.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but as a single entity, or a pantheon, or something else?¡± The Lich demanded. It was trying to stay calm. When its power raged too out of control, the rat swarm was disrupted and lost almost all ability to speak for a time. It was annoying but only slightly more frustrating than the current quality of answers.

    ¡°We have never been a single entity¡­¡± the rats answer with hesitation. ¡°Hunger never applies to only one.¡±

    Somehow it knew that was the wrong answer, but still they said it anyway. That was enough to make Tenebroum worry that the things were trying to be deceitful toward it, but thy seemed to lack the intelligence for such complex lies, especially in small numbers.

    It had figured out one thing though. It was fairly sure that Siddrim had intentionally not destroyed them completely in order to try to imprison those natural evils. This fact tended to argue against Malzekeen being a drowned island somewhere. After all, if the island sank how would they find all the little rat corpses and seal them away in a sarcophagus.

    No, whoever had done this had made sure to have pieces of the dark gods left to imprison so something new wouldn¡¯t rise in their place. That much it could determine without having to ask anyone at all. Tenebroum wished it could get more answers from Sidrrim¡¯s soul on all these things, but it was so long ago that the only answers it had were a smug satisfaction that it had triumphed, which was less than useless.

    It left them there and had a drudge seal the room as it soared off into the night sky beyond its absolute barrier so that it could look at the stars and consider what it already knew.

    It knew that the Malzekeen probably came from the city of Malzekeen, or at least they met their end there at the hands of an angry sun god. Where that was exactly didn¡¯t truly matter in the grand scheme of things.

    What mattered was which of the many versions of history were right. To date, the most interesting books it had found were actually in the black libraries buried beneath Siddrimar. Those hidden histories contrasted more than a little with the public ones that its heads had read elsewhere, but because it had eaten their God, Tenebroum knew better than anyone how corrupt and untrustworthy Siddrim¡¯s church had become in the last century.

    There had been several attempts to fix that and at least two reformations, but as the Lord of Light took less and less interest in the world he ruled over, corruption set in. Still, broadly speaking, Sdirrim¡¯s adherents seemed to believe in a cyclical view of history. There were ages of light and ages of dark, and the world kept spinning.

    Different saints throughout the church''s history took that to be literal, while others thought that it was a metaphor for corruption and vigilance. It was impossible to say which was true with any certainty.

    Given how much damage Tenebroum¡¯s forces had done to the world so quickly, it understood how fragile that balance was, too. But it saw no way that light could win now that darkness was all but paramount. It was only the thought that the light had once believed the very same thing only a few years ago that gave it pause.

    I will take nothing for granted, Tenebroum told itself as it gazed across the night sky and glared at the waxing crescent moon with suspicion. I will find every advantage, take every precaution, and kill or corrupt every enemy until the whole world belongs to me and me alone!

    This was practically its mantra, and it had only strengthened as it learned how big the world was. For a short period of time it had assumed that it had already conquered almost all their was to see, but as it consulted maps and learned from the souls of merchants and mariners, it began to understood just how many other lands there were to be conquered.

    Though the darkness doubted they would stand any more of a chance against it than these pathetic kingdoms had, it would not grow overconfident. It promised itself that. Especially not as long as the moon still hung in the sky. That woman was not to be trusted, and even now, it was certain that she was marshaling her forces for some new trick.

    It had tricks of its own. It already possessed spirits of almost every element, and its work on its new nature goddess was going well. She still thought that she was free, but in time, his six-armed Queen of Thorns would do terrible things to the guerilla forces that had beset it on more than one occasion. The Lich had spent months carving those three spirits into one, and it wouldn¡¯t be long before they had its brand on their soul, and it could finally be unleashed on an unsuspecting world.

    She was just the first of its new weapons, too. Once it struck down Abendend who knew what strange magics it would be able to unlock, and if the wolf was still buried beneath that ancient place as Groshin had promised it, well, Tenebroum was sure that soon it would be the one trapping the moon, not the other way around. It had already dragged the sun from the sky, so why not Lunaris as well?

    Tenebroum watched her as she traced her slow track across the sky, just as she did every night as he considered all these complex ideas. Now, it just had to find the worm, and the table would be set.

 Ch. 152 - A Long Time Coming

    At dusk Jordan received an invitation to dine with the man that the villagers called the Wise One, or more commonly, Tazuranth, the Great and Powerful. This struck Jordan as a little ostentatious, but then there were many Mage Lords at the Magica Collegium that insisted on such pomp as well.

    They rarely named themselves after mages of legend, though, he thought ironically.

    Despite not being invited, Sister Annise insisted on coming, and when Jordan told her, ¡°You should probably stay behind until I learn more about our host, and we come to some sort of arrangement,¡± but she ignored him.

    ¡°The Book of Ways says that I am there at dinner tonight,¡± she insisted as if that meant anything. ¡°So, I am afraid I must attend.¡±

    Jordan sighed inwardly but didn¡¯t pursue the issue further. Surely even the most callous host wouldn¡¯t deny a blind woman food, would he?

    Jordan¡¯s concerns were needless, as it turned out, and the servants invited her in, almost as if they¡¯d expected her, further deepening the mystery. It was only when they sat down at a table heavy with food that their host finally joined them.

    He wasn¡¯t at all what Jordan had expected. He¡¯d expected a gray master in elaborate robes and extensive titles. He¡¯d expected the typical obsession with protocol and pecking order that he¡¯d come to associate with mages powerful enough to have their own demesne, let alone mages with enough power to raise some kind of illusion around it to protect it from the outside world.

    What he found instead was a man that was little older than him, in stained shirt sleeves, who began eating almost as soon as he sat down.

    ¡°What?¡± he asked with a mouth full of roll as Jordan looked at him in confusion. ¡°Dig in. The food will get cold. We can talk about your journey after we¡¯re done. I have an important astronomical alignment to observe in 44 minutes. We must be quick about these things!¡±

    Though Sister Annise continued to look at the man as if he were a snake, the absurdity of the situation was enough to put Jordan almost immediately at ease. This wasn¡¯t an archmage; instead, he was just like any number of other senior students from the Collegium, and that memory was enough to make him smile wide for the first time since Brother Faerbar had left the manor, never to return.

    The three of them devoured the best meal that Jordan had eaten since last year''s harvest in record time. Honestly, they ate like kings; everything was good, from the mashed potatoes and the boiled carrots to the buttered rolls and the piping hot prime rib.

    There was some conversation throughout dinner, but it was limited largely to pleasantries, and whenever Jordan or Sister Annise tried to ask about something more substantive or explain something he would deflect right back to the food, or ignore the statement entirely as he focused on his feast, or checked the hourglass that he¡¯d brought with him from somewhere upstairs.

    Through all that, Jordan managed to learn a couple of things. Foremost was that their host seemed to insist on calling him Taz, and he seemed almost allergic to formality. He did listen, though, when his manservant said, ¡°Please, sir, do try to keep your elbows off the table when we have company over.¡±

    Those were all normal enough, but in places, like when Taz said, ¡°Well, sometimes stars do surprising things, even after you¡¯ve been staring at them for a century or two. It¡¯s always best to keep an eye on them lest they start to wander too far.¡±

    The idea that anyone could watch anything for a century or two was impossible, of course, unless they¡¯d stumbled into the lair of a small god, of course. The man almost certainly meant that he was continuing someone else¡¯s vigil that was documented in an old book, or perhaps he was part of an order that devoted themselves to such things.

    Jordan didn¡¯t know. What he did know was that he needed to get to the bottom of this. The man was obviously a mage, though. Even though he seemed too young and too relaxed to have any real power, the way he would casually use minor spells to summon food from across the table after he¡¯d cleared his plate or animate a napkin to dab at his mouth instead of simply wipe at his mouth showed that he had real power.

    He enjoyed every mouthful, and it was only when the servants were asking about desert that he suddenly stood and said, ¡°Sorry, out of time. Perhaps next time, Bernard.¡±

    He jumped up with his hourglass and ran to the stairs. It was only when he reached them and said, ¡°Well, are you coming? You¡¯ll want to see this, trust me. Its not often that a constellation reorganizes!¡±

    Those words, strung together in that way, meant nothing to Jordan, but he still wanted to see what his host was talking about. So, he stood and followed the other man up the stairs. By the fourth floor of the steep spiraling staircase, he was beginning to regret that decision, but even so, Sister Annise kept up with him while he huffed and puffed without any complaint.

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    In fact, if anything, she looked grim, and he made a note to ask her about that when they returned to the barn that had become their temporary home. Right now, there was no time for that, though. Instead, there was just enough time to appreciate the quality of the mage¡¯s observatory and the view it afforded him of the dark sea before the real show started.

    Taz had one of the nicest telescopes that Jordan had ever seen. It was the size of a large wine barrel with a mirror near the back, which was certainly an unconventional arrangement. He was just trying to figure out how much light that monstrosity might be able to gather and what the level of magnification could be when their host muttered a few words, and the large circular window in front of it suddenly became¡­ something else.

    A moment ago, it had been a large, circular window frame that would have been more than big enough for Jordan to crawl out to the ledge beyond if he¡¯d wanted to. After the runes on the frame began to glow with a soft blue light, though, the air inside of it began to condense and thicken, adjusting its optical characteristics. One second, it had been an open window, and the next, it was a giant magnifying lens almost four feet across.

    Taz leaned down to the telescope¡¯s eyepiece, and as he did so, he said, ¡°It¡¯s just a little trick I learned to observe the stars with better resolution. That¡¯s all.¡±

    He spoke as if he¡¯d read Jordan¡¯s mind, but he¡¯d probably just observed his look of shock. Over the next few minutes, he lectured about the phenomena he was looking for. ¡°Stars don¡¯t last forever, you see,¡± the strange wizard explained. ¡°Just like Siddrim, they all burn out eventually, and its always interesting to see what the given constellation replaces them with.¡±

    The mage laughed at his joke about Siddrim, but no one else did. When Jordan looked at Sister Annise, he was unsurprised to see that her expression had soured.

    Before he could say anything about that, though, Taz wave him over, and said, ¡°go on, take a look. Be quick about it. Its hard tonight, because Lunaris is spending more of her power on the affairs of mortals than she should, but that happens sometimes.¡±

    The stars didn¡¯t look any dimmer to Jordan than any other night, but that didn¡¯t stop him from looking through the telescope. It was then that he saw something he never expected to see.

    Jordan had seen the heavens through smaller telescopes before at the Collegium, but never one with this level of magnification before. In the past they¡¯d always appeared as glimmering dots, but here, now, as he stared out into the void what he saw was a glowing figure, locked in mortal combat with an inhuman monstrosity that he might have best compared to a hydra, or perhaps a jellyfish.

    ¡°What in the name of Lunaris¡­¡± Jordan swore softly as he looked on in wonder. ¡°What is it I¡¯m seeing here?¡±

    Taz took the scope back, chuckling softly. ¡°Surely they still teach you the nature of the heavens in school, do they not? That each star is a god onto itself in the service of Mother Lunaris?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Jordan answered, wondering how the man knew what he¡¯d learned in school. ¡°But it¡¯s a metaphor, not a literal¡­¡±

    Jordan¡¯s words trailed off as the other mage started to laugh. ¡°A metaphor, he says. If they were only metaphorically defending the world, I assure you that the darkness would have consumed us long ago. No, they are very real, and though not all of them have flaming swords, they all work together to hold back the night.¡±

    Jordan tried to digest what it was he was hearing, and as he did so, he watched the stars through the lens. From that device, he lacked the magnification to make out the details of any of the stars, but he could see the constellation of the Orchid and another wandering star moving toward the one he¡¯d just observed.

    ¡°What¡¯s going to happen next?¡± Jordan asked, watching with rapt attention, even as the stars got closer and closer.

    ¡°All stars get old, and they need to be replaced,¡± Taz told him, ¡°That is the natural order of things.¡± As he spoke, he made frenzied notes into a journal while he watched through the eyepiece, Jordan saw two stars meet, and then, after a bright flash, there was only one, fixed in the heavens. The constellation adjusted, but only a little.

    ¡°Does that still look like an orchid to you?¡± Taz asked. ¡°No, I think it does. We can leave it unchanged. I was worried it might become the rose or the tulip, and I¡¯d have to change all of my charts.¡±

    ¡°What happened to the other star?¡± Jordan asked. \

    ¡°It was devoured,¡± the mage smiled. ¡°Nothing goes to waste, not on that scale. All the gods are cannibals. Did they not teach you that either?¡±

    ¡°Well, not in so many words, but I understand your meaning,¡± Jordan agreed.

    ¡°Do you, though?¡± Taz said, finally looking up from his cosmic light show now that whatever he¡¯d been waiting for had happened. ¡°It¡¯s not a metaphor either. Gods die, and new gods rise up to replace them. I know. I¡¯ve seen it plenty of times myself.¡±

    ¡°You have?¡± Jordan asked, making no effort to hide his confusion.

    ¡°He has,¡± Sister Annise agreed. ¡°Tazuranth the Remarkable is well over four centuries old. He has seen almost as much as Lord Siddrim.¡±

    ¡°He¡­ he what?¡± Jordan asked.

    ¡°More, actually,¡± the young man said with a slight bow. ¡°After all, I¡¯ve seen all the terrible things that have happened since he slipped up and died, haven¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s also killed every mage that his stumbled upon his own private world in all the time between then and now,¡± she said, making Taz¡¯s smile go even wider.

    ¡°How does someone¡­ what?!¡± Jordan blurted out. He¡¯d planned to ask about how even magical immortality could last so long, but Sister Annise¡¯s latest revelation disrupted that entirely. ¡°If he kills mages, then why did you bring me here?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Taz said, dispelling the lens and sitting down in a chair. ¡°There¡¯s no need to end you at this point. Not only are you an apprentice instead of a fully vested mage, but you¡¯re trapped here. With that monstrosity out there, there¡¯s literally nowhere else for you to go, is there?¡±

 Ch. 153 - A Long Time Coming (part 2)

    ¡°Besides,¡± the mage continued. ¡°In this case I am afraid it is the priestess that must die.¡±

    Jordan¡¯s mind was reeling as each new revelation assaulted his mind more than the last one had as he looked back and forth between the two other people in the room. Taz was leaning forward on his chair, looking far too amused for what he¡¯d just said, while she gazed sightlessly back like a person resigned to her fate.

    ¡°Can one of you just calm down and explain what in the hell is going on to me?¡± Jordan asked, worried that this could turn violent at any moment. He stepped in between Annise and Taz, but if this mage was as powerful as he claimed, there was very little protection he could offer her.

    ¡°Well, you seem to know so much,¡± Taz said, gesturing very widely. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell him.¡±

    ¡°I only know the what but not the why,¡± she said simply. ¡°Siddrim has not shared that with me.¡±

    ¡°Siddrim is it?¡± the mage laughed. ¡°You really do believe that, don¡¯t you? Very well, we shall leave it at Siddrim for now.¡±

    ¡°We are here, all of us, because I won a game of chess a very long time ago. It was a game I should never have played, of course, but since I won, well¡­ it all worked out.¡±

    ¡°And who was it you were playing?¡± Jordan asked, even though he was almost afraid to.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll give you a hint,¡± Taz smiled. ¡°Unlike Siddrim, she¡¯s still hanging around.¡±

    ¡°You played a game of chess with the moon goddess herself?¡± Jordan asked, fairly sure he was right. He seemed to remember a legend along those lines, but he didn¡¯t associate the vague memory with Tazuranth, but he couldn¡¯t be sure. ¡°And what were the stakes?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I wanted to be her successor when she finally became tired of her nightly march across the sky,¡± and if I won, she agreed that I might have what it took to hold her nightly vigil. If I lost, well - I would have had my soul ripped out for my insolence, but it was a small price to pay for the opportunity. It took over a year, but in the end, I managed to beat her at her own game.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s some chess game,¡± Jordan nodded, trying to decided if he was serious. He didn¡¯t doubt the Goddess¡¯s existence. He¡¯d felt her touch, after all.

    ¡°It was,¡± Taz agreed, looking into space as he reminisced. ¡°It was a giant thing with thousands of squares and hundreds of pieces. I¡¯ve been tempted to build a copy of it off and on for all these centuries, but trying to find an opponent worth playing would be a pointless endeavor.¡±

    ¡°But how is it you managed to stay alive since then?¡± Jordan asked.

    ¡°Time doesn¡¯t function here,¡± Sister Annise volunteered. ¡°Not the way you think of it, at least.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Taz agreed, staring at her a little closer. ¡°I don¡¯t know who it is that¡¯s been talking to your friend out of turn, but our patron Goddess long ago struck a deal for me with the god of time so that I would have a place to wait until our margin was concluded, and that is this place.¡±

    ¡°So, in all these centuries, you¡¯ve never left?¡± Jordan asked, boggling at the idea.

    ¡°Why would I?¡± Taz said flippantly. ¡°If I leave the light of my tower and travel beyond the vale, four centuries of aging would catch up with me in an instant. It¡¯s rather hard to become the God of magic and the true defender of the world if you suddenly turn to dust.¡±

    ¡°Siddrim is the true defender of the world,¡± Sister Annise insisted.

    ¡°Siddrim¡¯s job was to keep the darkness that mankind generates at bay, and he failed at it,¡± Taz said, laughing again. ¡°Lunaris has a much larger and much more thankless task, she must hold off all the darkness beyond the world, and that, I assure you, is nearly infinite. Siddrim might have ruled the day, but he would have buckled under the weight of a single night.¡±

    Sister Annise looked unconvinced but said nothing. Instead, she sat there impassively, clutching her book to her chest like it was some sort of shield.

    ¡°Besides, you don¡¯t even serve Siddrim anymore,¡± Taz continued, pointing an accusing finger at her. ¡°There¡¯s only one God of death, and he¡¯s missing in action too. No, someone else is pulling your puppet strings.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re going to kill her because she¡¯s serving another god?¡± Jordan asked, more than a little horrified. ¡°Does that mean you¡¯ll come for the children next? This place was supposed to be a refugee.¡±

    ¡°A refuge according to who?¡± the mage asked. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have even been able to find me here.¡±

    Jordan didn¡¯t answer. Instead, all he did was look at Sister Annise¡¯s book, but that was enough. With a gesture, Taz pulled it from her grasp and glided slowly across the room to his. Once he had it in hand, he opened it, leafed through a few pages, and then set it on top of a messy stack of books to his right.

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    Jordan could see the pages he looked through, but didn¡¯t recognize them. Rather than the scrawled, crazed messages he was used to seeing in there, it had somehow returned to a perfectly normal devotional tome. If it was placed on the shelf next to any other Book of Days, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to tell the difference.

    ¡°I led the Shepard here for the sake of his flock,¡± Sister Annise repeated. ¡°Siddrim showed me the way. My sight has left me, but his remains.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an interesting delusion, I¡¯ll grant you that,¡± Taz said, ¡°but think about it. If it''s Siddrim¡¯s ghost that talks to you, then how do you know that¡ª¡±

    ¡°The light cannot die!¡± she insisted. ¡°This is my destiny. I have come as bidden and¡ª¡±

    She probably never even felt the bolt that struck her. With a complicated gesture, a single shard of obsidian buried itself in her chest, and her body began to crumble like it was made of sand. The frightening shockwave traveled through her body, and her final act was to look Jordan in his eyes before she crumbled into a pile of dust on her chair.

    He was certain that she¡¯d been trying to communicate with him, but he was unsure of what it was she was trying to communicate. Was it that she¡¯d expected this? Was this all going according to her deranged plan?

    Jordan spread his arms and was about to cry out, but the other mage said, ¡°You should stay calm and have a seat. I don¡¯t want to hurt you. Those children will need someone, and Lunaris knows it won¡¯t be me. I¡¯m much too busy.¡±

    He ignored the fact that Taz had pointed to the chair where the dust of his companion remained and instead slumped down into the one beside it. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you murdered her¡ª¡±

    ¡°Murder is a strong word,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°Technically, I annihilated her, but really, what I did was prevent her patron from manipulating my domain.¡±

    ¡°How does that justify anything,¡± Jordan said, trying and failing to stay calm. ¡°you don¡¯t even know who it was that was behind her gift of prophecy.¡±

    ¡°I know it wasn¡¯t Lunaris, and that¡¯s all that matters to me,¡± Taz said, growing suddenly serious as he studied Jordan. ¡°You are in my house and will respect my rules. That is the price for safety against the malignant spirit currently devouring the world, and I cheap one at that, I should think.¡±

    Jordan wasn¡¯t about to argue whether Sister Annise¡¯s life was worth a temporary refuge, so instead, he pivoted, asking, ¡°What of the children? Will you annihilate them as well because they have been touched by Siddrim?¡±

    ¡°Why would I?¡± Taz asked, genuinely confused. ¡°That God is no more. He cannot meddle in my affairs at all. As such, the children are worthy of study, not butchery.¡±

    ¡°And me?¡± Jordan said finally,

    ¡°What about you?¡± Taz asked. ¡°You can be my apprentice if you like once you get tired of babysitting. Perhaps we might even teach you something about¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Jordan said. ¡°Not that. Why are you letting me live? Why not simply murder me, like Sister Annise said you did to all the other mages.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t murder them either,¡± he said, with a shake of his head. ¡°All the ones before you came here on purpose. They each challenged me to a dual, and I accepted. Each of them lost and died for it. That is the nature of magical duels, is it not?¡±

    Jordan nodded slowly. That point he was at least forced to concede to. Magical duels were as deadly as they were rare, and it was far more likely that both mages died than that both of them survived when they unleashed such powerful forces to kill their opponent.

    Jordan spent the next few minutes being lectured on the nature of Taz¡¯s position, and when it was over, he stood and said, ¡°Thank you for clarifying things.¡± That wasn¡¯t what he wanted to say at all. He wanted to call the man an unhinged monster, but he didn¡¯t dare do that. There was nothing that Jordan could do to stop a four-century-old mage from doing whatever he wanted, so for the sake of the children in his care, he did his best to play the grateful supplicant.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Taz agreed. ¡°I just have one more question. How do you think that woman knew so much, both about this place and about me.¡±

    The question was asked casually, but the gaze behind it was an intense one, and Jordan wouldn¡¯t have been the least bit surprised if the man was using some sort of truth-sensing magic at this very moment, so he didn¡¯t dare try to lie.

    Instead, he told the truth. ¡°I honestly have no idea. She said different things at various times, but I believe she got visions. Part of me had doubts that they came from Siddrim, as you¡¯ve made very clear, but¡­ Well, I don¡¯t think you understand how dark it is out there now, Tazuranth. The world is ending. I was happy for any sort of divine intervention, I think, no matter the source.¡±

    The other mage nodded and said. ¡°I understand, and someday, if you are here long enough, you will understand that this has happened before and will happen again. It is the way of things.¡±

    ¡°May I have her book back at least?¡± Jordan asked, trying to sound nonchalant. ¡°For the children, you understand. They will miss her, but Siddrim¡¯s words will be a balm for that.¡±

    Taz looked at Jordan for a long moment, then studied the book briefly. He cast the basic version of detect magic then, and Jordan saw half the things in the room begin to glow with their own colorful aura that hinted at what they did. The book stayed strangely dull.

    Jordan didn¡¯t understand that result, but he wasn¡¯t surprised by it either. He¡¯d found the same thing when he studied it all those months ago.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Taz said, handing him the book. ¡°You may leave. I am busy most evenings, but if you would like to come by for a friendly game of chess or just to discuss topics your masters might have neglected up until now, you are welcome to come by for lunch.¡±

    Jordan nodded and thanked the man. Then he departed.

    He left with the book in hand, unsure what he should do next. Was it really safe to stay here with such an unhinged lunatic? Was it really safe to leave? He didn¡¯t know what the right decision was. Right now, it wasn¡¯t like he had a choice.

    He sighed as he walked back to the barn. What was he going to tell the kids about where Sister Annise had gone? He thought about that for several minutes, but ultimately he looked down at the book. It would probably have the answer to that, too. Should he look, or should he go with his gut and see if he got it right after everyone else went to sleep?

    It didn¡¯t matter. They¡¯d come here to escape the madness, but now it had only intensified.

 Ch. 154- Unrecognizable

    Niama. That was the only word that they clung to as they were trapped in the Lich¡¯s dark garden. Niama will save us, each of them whispered to each other, like the frightened sisters they were.

    No one was coming to save them, though. Only Lunaris tried to visit them the once in that desperate place, but before she could even whisper whatever message it was she¡¯d dared come to deliver, a whirlwind of inky black barbwire sprung up out of the hateful thing that was the circle that bound them together, and she was forced to take flight lest she be caught alongside the rest of them.

    It had been the only moment of hope that the three of them had experienced since they¡¯d been stolen from the moon, and now it had turned only into a bitter stone in all their hearts.

    After that, the only visits they ever received were from that terrible shade. Sometimes, it came in the body of one of its servants, but more often, it came as a dark thunderhead billowing with wicked powers.

    Sometimes their captor tormented them words, but it always tormented them with pain as it cut away at who they were and pruned them into its desired shape. They had no idea of what that was, of course. All they could see were the bleak walls that surrounded the dead courtyard, and the leaden sky above them as the goddesses slowly forgot everything they¡¯d ever known.

    They had all had names once. Tarieneian Vale. Verdant Glade. Thornwood. Now they often had trouble remembering who was who, and when they spoke they were no longer sure if they were talking to themselves or each other.

    It gained other things, though, while it lost so much. Sometimes, that would be a strange new power manifesting, but mostly it was hate. The monstrosity that had been three Goddesses slowly became consumed by hate more with every passing day as everything they¡¯d loved about themselves faded away. It hated what the darkness had done to it, but it could not stop or protect itself. It could not even fight back.

    One day one of her voices just stopped, and a few weeks later a second one followed. The corrupted nature spirit didn¡¯t know if those two parts of itself had died or finally merged. Since it couldn¡¯t remember which of the three it had been and which two were the ones that had vanished, it seemed to be the later. That realization wasn¡¯t enough to keep it from feeling alone.

    That was when the Lich finally branded them with their new identity. By the time that dread creature showed up that fateful night wielding a darkly glowing wand with a smoldering tip, they had long since forgotten who they were or even what they were. The monstrosity that had once been more was bound to its tree like an anchor, but that did not stop it from pacing around the ring that was the boundary of its existence as it slowly mutated from something more plant than animal to something more animal than plant in a desperate and almost unconscious attempt to be free.

    ¡°There¡¯s no escape for you,¡± the skeleton rasped when it finally stopped before it, just outside the line.

    ¡°No?¡± she asked, lashing out at the monster that had taken so much from her even as she knew that the thorny vines could¡¯t cross the boundary any more than the rest of her. ¡°Then come in here with me and I will settle for revenge.¡±

    As the natural monstrosity spoke, she grew terrible claws from her six arms, but the Lich showed no reaction. Instead, with a few muttered words, she felt something gripping her heart even as it tried to beat in her chest.

    ¡°The only revenge you shall ever have is mine,¡± it intoned as she fell to her knees. ¡°You will tear apart the Gods and Goddesses you once called friends¡ª¡±

    ¡°Never!¡± she spat, but the Lich ignored her.

    ¡°You shall be their undoing,¡± it continued. ¡°And when their souls are mine, I shall give you a gift.¡±

    ¡°We¡­ I want nothing from you!¡± the thing that had once been a woman, no, several women, spat.

    ¡°And yet you shall have it just the same,¡± the skeleton whispered. ¡°I shall give you dominion over all of the natural world that you consume so that no one else can rise up to take the place of those you slay.¡±

    That was when she finally understood that she was being offered the chance to serve this terrible thing. She laughed at that, disturbingly, in all three voices.

    That laughter came to an abrupt halt as the fist in her chest squeezed tighter. She collapsed to the ground, and then, as she lay there, a dozen skeletal hands came up from the cursed earth and held her tight.

    She reached for the tree to try to return to the safety of its wood, but it was inches too far away, so when the Lich began to carve terrible words into her very soul with its evil-looking wand, all she could do was scream.

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    She had no idea how long the process took or even if it was finished, but by the time dawn began to color the edge of the sky, it was gone. She was alone again, with nothing but the pain of the darkness¡¯s latest atrocity to keep her company. She could only lay there as the vines and branches that made up her body writhed in complaint.

    When she finally made it back to the tree, she didn¡¯t come out again, not for more than a season. There was no point. There was only pain out there, and though the Lich could still hurt her in here, it was slightly more protected.

    That torpor might have gone on forever, except for one spring day, she realized that her strength was returning. For many months, she¡¯d confused the weakness that winter imposed on all their kind with the weakness caused by all of these surgeries and experiments.

    As the sap began to flow, though, and she felt herself grow revitalized, she realized that she might be able to finally dig through the stone far beneath her. It was a slow, methodical plan, but day after day and week after week, she made progress. Once she finally felt the stone that had barred her way for so long crack, and she penetrated to the deep earth and pure water beyond it, she tried to drink deep of it but was almost immediately sickened.

    Too much of a good thing after starving for so long can be almost as bad as the starvation itself, she reminded herself as she began to tunnel blindly toward the edge of the city.

    It took weeks more to find some hearty climbing vines to link to, and once that was done, things moved quite quickly. So far, no one had discovered that she¡¯d slipped from her cage, and despite how deep her roots had dug, she was determined not to give that away. If she could just reach the foliage beyond the city walls, she could flee to the nearest forest, and Niama would take her into her loving arms and fix her.

    She was sure of it. There was nothing the goddess of nature could not do.

    Two days later, while the red and the white suns were high in the sky and the Lich¡¯s forces were all hiding from their gaze, she finally made contact with the weedy, overgrown irrigation ditches nearest the walls, and fled. In her ethereal form she raced along from one set of roots to the next. The fields had long since gone fallow and were being reclaimed by nature. That only helped her move faster.

    Less than an hour after she escaped the city, she made it to the nearby woods only a dozen miles away. She would move farther tomorrow, and in time, she would reach even Niama¡¯s court itself, but for now, she desperately needed to rest.

    She tried to feast on nature''s bounty here, but found the essence almost tainted. Could the darkness¡¯s reach really extend so far? She wondered as she began to search for allies so she could explain what happened.

    Shortly after noon she looked into a pond at her reflection and she immediately regretted it. What she saw was a horror. The left and right side of her face clearly belonged to two different people, and even if she had recognized whose body it had been originally, the fact that she had six arms made her look anything but natural. She was a monster, a nameless monster.

    She concentrated, and after a few seconds she was able to become something close to what she thought that she might have one looked like. Even the indistinct features and curled vines that were only vaguely man shaped were better than the alternative, though.

    It was almost twilight when she found a small encampment of the children of the forest. She concentrated, and with some effort, she forced her strange, new body to return to a form that they might find more pleasing.

    ¡°Greetings wanders, I come in¡ª¡± As she spoke, the elves drew their weapons, obviously sensing something was wrong about her.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± one of the ageless young men demanded in the musical language of his race, pointing his black glass dagger at her. ¡°You stink of evil. How did you find your war through our glamours.¡±

    She wanted to tell him that the glamours, and the way they glowed in the deeping gloom were the reason she¡¯d found them at all in the first place, but even as she opened her mouth to explain how she¡¯d been captured and tortured by the evil gripping the land she felt the Lich smoothly slide into her mind.

    ¡°Such a good huntress,¡± it whispered in mock praise. ¡°You¡¯ve only just been released into the wild, and already you¡¯ve found some of my most elusive quarry. Make sure not to let them get away.¡±

    ¡°I would never!¡± she hissed, trying to resist the command, but even as she did so, she felt her disguise coming undone and her other arms slipping free as their claws extended.

    ¡°By the goddess,¡± the closest forest child whispered, backing away as the ones farther from her started to scatter and run for their lives.

    ¡°You cannot escape me,¡± the Lich continued, ignoring the growing chaos. ¡°Even if you could, you would soon starve to death because the light is forever lost to you. So, my Queen of Thorns, it is time to claim your destiny. Feast on the flesh of your allies by the time the sun rises, or I shall call you a failed experiment and feast on your soul instead.¡±

    After that, the Lich was gone, but it didn¡¯t matter. As he said that terrible name, Queen of Thorns, the profane symbols he¡¯d carved into her very soul sprang to life and began to burn inside her like a forest fire. She now knew who she was again, for the first time in months, but she did not like it.

    It became harder to think after that, and as her body began to shift with every move, and the bloody thorns erupted through her bark colored skin, she didn¡¯t even try. She felt the hunger now, and she scented her prey, and that was enough.

    A few minutes ago, she¡¯d been a mutilated goddess looking for allies to save her, and now she was a thorned, eight-legged hunting cat bounding down the fading trail to rip those same allies to pieces. Part of her screamed in horror at this turn of events. She never even suspected that the Lich would let her escape, but now it was too late. She was gaining on her quarry rapidly, and any second, she¡¯d be able to rip out his ageless little throat and drink the sweet taste of elder blood before she started looking for another corpse.

 Ch. 155 - A Long Shot

    When the first of the ships were ready to head north, the Voice of Reason was on the largest of them. It had taken almost as long to make her tiny fleet seaworthy as it had to make her new skin fit right. It did now, though, and it was worth the effort.

    As she stood in her deep red dress on the aft castle of her refloated Caravel, she admired the way her skin fit like a literal glove on her hands as she flexed and moved. It was only after that, she looked back at the tiny, black sailed fleet, and wondered if she would return or if she would die on her fools errand far away from her master and his power.

    Some of those ships contained soldiers and powerful constructs, it was true. She was hardly defenseless. There were even a few aquatic monstrosities that lurked somewhere beneath her should the gods of sea and storms give them trouble.

    She was well protected and had all the resources that she would need for her mission, but most of the ships that followed her contained only the skeletal remains of a few sailors, along with a hold full of poisoned and diseased rats powered by a god that was not her own.

    The Lich had planned to send a scouting mission along the coast to weaken the enemy. It was she who proposed that any such mission should have a diplomatic component to it. It had, after a few considerations and some questions, agreed. She¡¯d argued that such dialogs could sow discord and panic among nominal allies, but the Lich had been far more interested in the prayers of the living.

    That was why her master¡¯s high priest, Verdenin, had sent along a few of his black-robed monks. They were the only living souls in the entire armada, but if her efforts were successful, then they would be the most important. Apparently, its war machine was a hungry thing, and in lieu of blood and souls, prayers to the dark could ameliorate a great many of its concerns. She would have done it for any reason if only to be useful. In this thing, she was the carrot, and the ships behind her were the stick.

    The thought sent a shiver down her spine as she flicked her eyes back to them. The Lich could do no wrong as far as she was concerned, and any new abomination from its flesh forges was beautiful in her eyes. Even the dread leviathan that had been so critical to its attack on Rahkin had been a work of art, but a hundred thousand squirming squealing rats packed into the holds of her fleet just waiting for her negotiations to go wrong so that they could be unleashed and despoil everything they could find?

    She found something about all of that deeply unsettling. Not only were they ugly, unsettling things, but they were somehow independent of the one true master of the world in a way that she would never be. She shook her head and walked slowly back to the prow of the ship.

    She hoped that she would never need to unleash them. She shouldn¡¯t have to. Not when she had such powerful allies of her own. The Dreamer and the Puppeteer had both joined her on this voyage, and though neither of them would be much better in a fight than her own fragile form, they would both be very helpful in determining who might want what, and where the political fault lines of a given kingdom might be.

    At this point, they were little more than dots on a map to her. She¡¯d read a few dusty tomes on the subject of the Kingdoms of Zum Jubar, but it still made little sense to her, and beyond the most important trade cities, little was known about them in the south. She¡¯d summoned and consulted the spirits of a few sailors and merchants that had been there, but apparently those that were more knowledgeable had fled long before the Lich¡¯s forces had completed their conquest.

    ¡°Those will be our most fearsome opponents,¡± she said to herself in a voice no louder than the breeze. ¡°The ones that fear what they do not understand and have just enough knowledge for others to believe them. Something will have to be done.¡±

    Two monks stood not so far from her, but they neither looked at her nor spoke to her. They couldn¡¯t. Their eyes had been sewn shut long ago so that they could only see darkness, and their vows of silence prevented them from making any noise except for singing the discordant psalms of the Lich.

    Part of her resented that the living had any place on this mission, but it was not her place to question her master, so she ignored the urge to strangle them or push them off her ship and drown them. Instead, she focused once more on the view. And the destinations that lay far ahead.

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    Somewhere in the distance, past endless dunes and alabaster cliffs, lay Tanda. It was an ancient, walled city ruled by a sultan that tended to focus on trade rather than on warfare. It was often thought of by southern merchants as the gateway to the north, and though she was journeying there for something other than the dates and ivory that were the mainstays of their trade, she was confident she¡¯d find what she was looking for.

    They needed allies, and leaders that cared more for the fate of their subjects than the vanity of the gods that lorded over them all. If she didn¡¯t find those things in Tanda, then she¡¯d keep going, and in Bastom, or somewhere even further north, she was sure she would find what both she and her master were looking for.

    The voyage from Rahkin to Tanda would take a good crew and a fast ship about three weeks. They, unfortunately, had neither, thanks to the limitations that daylight imposed on their vessels. Each morning, they lowered the sails and drifted more or less and random. After a month at sea, though, they still had not arrived.

    It was only the magic imbued into the ships that kept them even somewhat together, especially after the storms that she was sure that the Gods were tormenting them with. Still, they met no opposition from mortals, until they were past all the dunes, and reached the White Gates.

    There, they found a small armada of well-trimmed warships waiting for them. Fortunately, thanks to the wraiths that were released each night to scour the ever-shifting seascape for hazards, they saw the enemy long before their sails crossed the horizon.

    As far as the Voice of Reason was concerned, the best course of action would have been to raise the flags that communicated the need for a parlay, and work things out with the opposing captain. She was sure that she could reach an amicable solution. Unfortunately, with dawn a few hours away, that was impossible, and in the light of day those sleek white sailed ships would easily sink her helpless black sailed vassal.

    Such an outcome was intolerable. So, instead, she continued to sail forward directly at them, and when she was close enough, she unleashed a swarm of death¡¯s heads. They had hundreds of those cursed skulls in the hold of her ship, and while they were not strong enough to sink a large ship on their own; the fires they caused would do that in an hour or two.

    As much as she might have liked to keep survivors and merely send a warning shot, that outcome was equally intolerable. Knowledge of how easily the Lich¡¯s forces might sink the local navies could be valuable in establishing a reputation in a new area. Unfortunately, that was not the reputation she wanted, which meant that there had to be no survivors.

    Thanks to the Lich¡¯s magic, that¡¯s exactly what happened. Fire rained from the sky, and every vessel, no matter how small, received its share. They went up like so many candles, and though the Voice¡¯s heart felt heavy that she had not found a way to bring about a peaceful solution to this impasse, she looked at her lovely hands and decided that she would much rather have them stained with blood than be ruined by weapons and wooden shrapnel.

    That dawn, as everyone fled below decks to escape the distant blue rays of the first sun, the black fleet floated there at rest, surrounded by the flaming wrecks of their burning enemies. In the morning, they would harvest what corpses they could for spare parts, and the Puppeteer would do what it did and sniff out secrets that might aid them in their quest.

    That sinuous monstrosity learned a great deal in the night that followed. They sadly could not find the corpse of the fleet¡¯s admiral, but they found a captain and several quartermasters, and it was able to confirm her worst fears.

    ¡°We came to stop yer foul kind before you could stain the holy lands with your evil!¡± the Puppeteer growled in an unfamiliar voice through the mouth of a dead man, ¡°And even if you make your way past us, you¡¯ll find neither quarter nor succor inside the walls of our beloved home!¡±

    Those sentiments were echoed by the other drowned souls, which they harvested for their dark god. Those sentiments worried her but not so much as to deter her from her plan. All they had come away with from this encounter was maps and warnings, but they had lost nothing of value in return, and that would have to be enough.

    Less than a week later, they reached the verdant coast where Tanda stood like a glittering gem. It was gifted by nature and clung to both sides of a fertile river that provided so much of its wealth. The Voice became instantly suspicious of what small gods of city and nature might lurk in such an old place, but ultimately, she still unleashed her wraiths and the Dreamer to learn what they could from the sleeping populace while her black fleet rested at anchor far offshore.

    It would be hours before any of those shadowy servants returned with useful information, of course, but even so, the Voice could not tear her eyes away from the glittering white spires that dotted the city and the starlight blue domes that sparkled in the moonlight.

    It was the most beautiful place she¡¯d ever been, and she dearly hoped that she could find a peaceful solution that would bring these people into the fold. She would hate to ruin such a lovely place just to make a point that the other local lords would better understand, though she would if she had to.

 Ch. 156 - Widening Gyre

    Once the Tenebroum¡¯s forces had been pushed out of the valley that sheltered the dead city of Abenend on its third assault, it had never managed to get an agent close enough to investigate again. This wasn¡¯t due to any ineptitude on the part of its servants, though. It was because of the talent of the mages.

    In many ways, the Lich feared them more than the gods arrayed against it. Humans were fragile things, but they were clever too, and the mages came up with all sorts of arcane countermeasures to keep its minions at bay. In fact, some of them were so convoluted and unexpected that it took some time to unravel their secrets.

    First, there was the net of air they¡¯d managed to weave over the entire Collegium. Many black birds had crashed to the earth ruined before the Lich had figured out that the fragile things had been failing at higher rates than usual and had them perch on trees further from the grounds instead to watch for signs of weakness among the mages.

    That worked well until the mages started to pick them off, one at a time. At first Tenebroum thought that was being done with spells that detected evil in some way, but when it it had the fly further afield, circling well out of arrow range, it still found that they were being sniped from the mage¡¯s last hold out.

    The answer turned out to be rune carved arrows that were drawn to undeath. It was a clever bit of magic, and Tenebroum filled away those tricks vowing to find some way to use them against the gods themselves in due time.

    After that, it started to use shades and wraiths exclusively, even though they couldn¡¯t penetrate the compound directly because of ancient wards inscribed into the bedrock itself. It was deeply frustrating to know that its enemy was behind fragile stone walls working on new sinister plans like their crystallized dragon fire that had wounded it so recently, but it couldn¡¯t stop them or even spy on them.

    After that, the lights started to go up. Visually, they didn¡¯t seem to be anything special at first. They were just paper lanterns hung outside the walls of the castle with a tiny shard of sunlight instead of a candle or an oil lamp. They were a nuisance at first, though Tenebroum would extinguish the ones furthest out when it could.

    Soon, there were hundreds, and then thousands, though. Every day, they seemed to amplify in the light of one of the suns, and every night, they would dim back to their lantern strength. At first, the Lich thought the whole thing was a novelty, but soon after, the entire valley was lost to their collective glow, and it was forced to build creative spies from the eyes of keen-sighted men and women and the bodies of sure-footed goats to spy on their continued activity from the closest mountain peaks.

    In time, these clever constructs were dashed as well by the mages and their protective spells, but not before they saw what was happening. The mages weren¡¯t just baring the darkness from their long river valley. They were barring winter from it as well. Even as the icy fist closed around the world with more force than usual, ice and snow never settled for long on the glowing valley.

    That let them import thousands of refugees and put them to work. Before Tenebroum¡¯s rise to power, Abenend had been a sleepy backwater, and after it¡¯s victory over Siddrim it had been reduced to ash. Now, even with Constantinal fallen, it was stronger than it had been before. In fact, in all the world that Tenebroum could see it was the only place that was growing and flourishing.

    Some of the towns and duchies that the darkness had claimed for its own on its long march east were still doing fine. People still got married, had children, and harvested their crops between prayers for the darkness to keep them safe. There was no growth there, though. There was no vitality. All there was were people in fear going through the motions.

    Not so in Abenend. There, even as the Lich laid siege to Rahkin and prepared to fight the mages when that was done, it saw that they were getting stronger. When the last vestiges of the Siddrimites received news that their fortification alongside the Oroza had been flanked, they abandoned it and quickly retreated up into the mountains to make common cause with the mages, turning the whole place into an armed camp.

    The priests might no longer have any magic of their own, but they had strong backs and experience with war. Soon, all passes except the main one were barred by controlled avalanches or manned palisades, and the main pass beside the river quickly became a new fortress in its own right.

    Aside from the northern kingdoms, and the far away islands across the sea, that tiny valley swaddled in light was now the biggest threat to the Lich¡¯s plans, and it was still gallingly near its own seat of power as it was less than two hundred miles from the spire of darkness rising from the ice shrouded ruins that had once been Blackwater.

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    Even lightning strikes to try to sabotage these defenses, or at least sew fear and chaos, met with little success. Calvary was picked off by the mages'' arc lightning and flame strike spells before they ever did real damage, and even something subtle as a neuroid couldn¡¯t get close enough to do real damage before it was detected and eliminated.

    When the sky and land failed it, the Lich sent its legion of rust to dig beneath and find some way through, but an earthquake of almost certainly unnatural origin collapsed the tunnel as soon as it got near enough to the surface to be detected.

    At one point, the Lich sent a few of its rodents in to try to bridge the gap that way, but based on the way that Groshian¡¯s other nearby parts screamed for a day and a night, it was safe to say that the mages found them immediately and did something horrible to them.

    It was only when the lights of Rahkin were snuffed out, and every mage that had been sent there to bolster their defenses died, that Tenebroum was finally able to turn its attention to the troublesome valley. That was when it had started to poison the very mana itself with its Strangulite powered monoliths. The results were subtle enough not to be noticed at first, but that could not last forever.

    In time, the Lich¡¯s vigilant goats noticed small groups attempting to reach the summit of the mountains it was using to poison them. While these efforts were sometimes successful, it was very easy for the Lich to tear them apart by night before they reached the peak, so these expeditions were invariably costly and only rarely successful.

    It was from the souls of those that it murdered there on those high glaciers that it learned the most.

    ¡°Dozens of my brothers died trying to use teleportation to reach these cursed high places,¡± the soul of Artem moaned as the Lich tormented it in the search for answers. ¡°Magic no longer works as it should there, and even the Archmages do not know why.¡±

    ¡°Of course they don¡¯t,¡± Tenebroum gloated. ¡°And they will only figure it out when I claim their souls for all of eternity!¡±

    It was heartening to discover with every new expedition, it claimed that they still had no idea what it was doing or why it would damn them, though.

    Week by week and month by month, the web of tainted artifacts slowly became a noose, and eventually, that noose began to choke the nascent revival of the mages and their allies. At first, this was only visible in the number of lights that failed after a storm went through, leaving gaps in the otherwise perfect field of lights that were hung all throughout the valley now.

    These were replaced, but it was done slowly enough to show the limits of its enemy¡¯s resources. In time, the Lich dispatched more blackbirds to spy on the place since, unlike the wraiths, they could endure at least a little light. To the Lich¡¯s surprise, almost none of them were detected immediately, as so long as they were circumspect and stayed moving, the mages could no longer shoot them out of the sky as they¡¯d done with such impunity for so long.

    That was when the Lich knew that their destruction would come sooner rather than later. In less than a year, it was certain that it would purge every scrap of light from that place and devour everything that lived there.

    Still, despite its eagerness, the Lich did not rush things. It knew that these mages were the favorites of Lunaris, and that when the time came to crush them, she would do everything that was within her power to aid them.

    That was so predictable that it was planning a trap for her too, should such an opportunity arise, of course, but for now, it focused on other, smaller details, like forcing Groshian to attempt to infiltrate the place a second time.

    ¡°No, please!¡± the rats wailed piteously as the Lich commanded hundreds of them into dozens of cages that were to be dropped at random along the length of the valley by large six-winged buzzards that the darkness did not expect to survive the trip. ¡°It¡­ the mages did things to us! We can¡¯t! Never again! The pain!¡±

    The Lich silenced them with a single command before it continued. ¡°You will go, and you will die, in time, like all my other constructs. This is the way of things, but until then you will feast on their fields that are heavy with wheat. If you can, you shall devour their books and learn their secrets.¡±

    ¡°Wheat? Secrets?¡± the rats echoed, their hunger growing.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the Lich said. ¡°There are many things worth feasting on, and the winds of magic are changing; you will find ways to do more damage and undermine their foundations further. In return, I will continue to spread you far and wide so that you can grow strong and become a stronger servant to me.¡±

    To say that the small, hungry god agreed to those terms would be inaccurate, but it did obey, and that was enough. The Lich had dissected many versions of the rats, but it had found nothing remarkable, and it doubted the mages had either. It didn¡¯t matter to it if the rat god had ten thousand bodies or ten thousand and one. All that mattered was that it labored to advance Tenebroum¡¯s plans, and it could think of no better way to exacerbate the decaying situation of the mages than by unleashing famine and disease to accompany their growing troubles with magic itself.

 Ch. 157 - Sands of Time

    While Tenebroum engaged in its slow war of attrition with the Mages, it did not sit idle and count the days until victory. That was only one plan among many.

    Unless they broke the cordon that slowly tightened around them by doing something completely unexpected, there was no need to watch them day by day. Instead, the darkness monitored the progress that its servants were making to the north, the speed with which new armies were assembled in the east and the rate at which its new generals grew deep in the heart of darkness.

    Everything was going according to plan. Then its scouts finally found what might have been the ruins they¡¯d searched for, for so long. The centipede cavalry unit that found the wasteland of stone and glass deep in the Mulkara desert had long been modified for both traveling in such an inhospitable place by day and burrowing deep into the desert sands by night to escape the caress of the sun.

    That was why, even when a dark rider reached it with the news of what had been found, it was still several weeks before the Lich could look with its own eyes. It was simply too far for any of its blackbirds to fly and survive the long day, and the darkness was unable to fly there alone as a mist in case the moon should notice it and turn her gaze once more upon it where it had no way to hide.

    So it waited until a fine, four-armed, eight-legged centaur-spider was crafted for it, complete with armor polished to a mirror sheen to drive away as much of the light as possible should the worst happen. It was only when that strange new body was in place that it made the long journey across the desert to where its forces waited to show it what they had found.

    The journey took three nights running as fast as its spindly limbs would allow, and three long days buried beneath he dunes waiting for the suns to pass by overhead. The experience was strange to Tenebroum, who was not used to being trapped in a singular body for such a long period of time.

    It had expected this, though, and the giant nightmare crab that it occupied had been built spaciously enough that it was no trouble to bring along a small chorus of dead mages and scholars with it. That way, it had something to pass the time while it dwelled nearly alone in that claustrophobic darkness.

    By night, it strode along sinuous dune ridges as it got ever closer to its goal. Sometimes, it saw animals and, even more rarely, elementals. Near dawn and dusk, fire elementals dancing like heat mirages could be seen dancing across the cold sands, and sometimes it saw the swells of earth elementals swimming somewhere beneath it in ways that made the sand ripple. None of these creatures strayed close enough to the Lich to devour them, but it did make a note about new elemental traps that it hoped to catch them in for further study another time.

    By day, it curled up into an armored ball deep under the sand, and it discussed Malzekeen with the minds that knew the stories best. There were a dozen different versions of the story. The Siddrimites wrote that it was a terrible, fallen place that was old when the sun was still young. To them, it was replete with human sacrifice, and it was the city''s destruction that marked the first true year of the light. Others said that the destruction came much later and that the place was only a holdout where evil had gathered after the forces of righteousness burned them out of their more traditional strongholds elsewhere in the wide world.

    The accounts didn¡¯t even agree on whether or not the desert had been in here in those days. It was either ¡®a verdant area that had been reduced to nothing but dust in the face of Siddrim¡¯s might,¡¯ or ¡®a trackless place on the edge of the wastes, that was not enough to hide them from the light.¡¯

    When Tenebroum finally arrived, there was not enough to say with real certainty. The sand around the edges of the city had indeed been burned so badly that it had melted into a fractured layer of thin, dun colored glass for hundreds of feet. It crunched underfoot with each step that the Lich took in its strange body.

    Whatever had done that had reduced most of the city to ash. Now, only foundations and low brick walls sprinkled between the dunes hinted at the vast numbers of people who had once lived here.

    It would not have come all this way for that alone, though. Even the central temple, with its collapsed dome and its markings that had been worn away by the sand and the wind, were interesting, but not particularly telling. It was only as it moved inside that fallen place and saw the entrance to the catacombs below that it glimpsed what had made the journey through such inhospitable territory worthwhile.

    Navigating the stairs into the depths in a wide-footed body meant for galloping across the sweltering sands was challenging but not impossible; the flesh crafters had known about this part of the trip when they had constructed this body, after all. Once Tenebroum descended into the depths, it released a handful of modified death¡¯s heads to begin a proper search.

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    These differed from the typical ones in many ways. Not only were they smaller because they¡¯d been made from children¡¯s skulls, they weren¡¯t even made to explode. They were simply vessels to house the myriad of souls it had brought with it so that they could look around for what critical clues might yet be found.

    It crowded those souls into the tiny vessels two and three at a time, at random. Then, it released each one down a different corridor so they could begin their search, and it stood there waiting for the answers to come in. Despite the ungainly way those skulls floated here and there while the souls crammed inside fought for control of their tiny little world, Tenebroum didn¡¯t have to wait long.

    The first facts that were gathered were basic enough, but after that things grew steadily more interesting. Based on the inscriptions and faded murals, the place was an ossuary devoted to the former god of death, Anhnkhanin.

    The historians of Siddrimar insisted that their god had slain him as well, though other histories merely said that he had fled beyond the edges of the world to escape. The idea that a god of death could be killed was ludicrous to Tenebroum, and it would have doubted that official narrative even if it had not known all that Ghrosian had explained to it about certain fundamental parts of life and the way they powered certain deities.

    Even If the place was filled with bones dedicated to one god, though, that did nothing to change the fact that it was also crammed full of the corpses of others too. The dead that belonged to Anhnkhanin were stacked neatly in the alcoves that had been dug out of the soft sandstone beneath Malzekeen.

    The bodies which were scattered across the floor in every corridor, though none of those had been interred here originally. A few of them near the stairs were grave robbers who had been sickened by the miasma here, but most of the rest were those poor souls who sought to survive the day that the city above them had died.

    They had been unsuccessful, but in their attempt they had accidentally preserved a wealth of knowledge. Some of the bodies that were far enough away from the door that natural predators had never had the chance to pick their bones clean had even been mummified, preserving even their tattoos in addition to the possessions they carried and the jewelry they wore. Each layer of those artifacts represented a wealth of clues.

    Slowly, the story came together for the Lich. This was not some grand battle. This was a slaughter, and though the three dark gods that it was trying to understand had not died here, after enough research, it was fairly certain that they had been born here at least.

    In every scroll and inscription that Tenebroum uncovered, there were only ever three gods who were mentioned. However, none of them were Ghrossian, and none of them were wolves or rats. Instead, all the Lich¡¯s floating servants found were references to Siddrim, Anhnkanin, and Malkezeen.

    That was telling, of course, but it was only when they found a mummified corpse with the tattoo of a truly unique chimera did Tenebroum finally understand: once the rat, the wolf and the worm had been a single deity as it had already suspected.

    They were separate now, of course. Still, it was sure that their survival from this terrible event was what had broken them apart into the separate shards of divinity that they were now.

    Even with that knowledge, the image was arresting. The god, at least according to this one accidental record by one of its worshipers, was a giant two-headed chimera with the head of a wolf and a rat, surrounded by a tentacled mane of leaches and worms that made it look more like a deformed lion in its way. It was a wonderfully revolting sight, but even as the Lich considered how feasible it might be to build one of these from spare parts, its mere existence raised more questions than answers.

    If Ghroshian was simply part of a larger whole, should it even unearth the wolf once it had conquered the Magica Collegium? Should it look for the worm at all?

    The answer was, of course, that it must do those things, but only so it could learn from them and steal their power for itself. It would not abandon such riches merely because it was fearful or because it had doubts. It would just have to keep them apart until that was done to prevent any mishaps. If it brought them together, it would be at a time and a place of its choosing, when they were bound and leashed. Maybe Tenebroum would simply devour Ghroshian before the other two were unearthed to prevent any complications altogether.

    It would brood on it later. For now, it studied this place, and in doing so, it felt a strange sort of kinship with the creatures that were born here. Tenebroum had been born of a single tortured soul in a swamp, and in doing so, there had been enough life to feed and nurture it for a long time. If the city above had been rebuilt, it had no doubt that the same thing would have happened here.

    Instead, the god that had died left behind fragments forced to seek out new sustenance elsewhere, and in doing so, they had become separate. If it were ever to fracture in such a way, where would it find the fault lines in its soul? Darkness? Death? Disease?

    Tenebroum couldn¡¯t say, and honestly, it hoped never to find out. It was a thought-provoking question, though, and it pondered it while it waited for more information in that cursed place. If Siddrim had sundered Malkezeen into his component parts, then might Tenebroum have done the same thing to Siddrim? Was that what those tiny stars represented? It was impossible to say, but now that it had articulated the question, it dearly wanted the answer.

 Ch. 158 - The Undiscovered Land

    When she traveled downstream for the last time, it was a languid affair, but Oroza no longer had the strength to swim. At this point, she barely had the strength to hold herself together as the emaciated shell of the river dragon she was. Even time spent among the ice at the peak of the mountains was enough to rejuvenate her; she did not truly understand why.

    Was it not as clear as it had always been? Were the heights not untouched and perfect in that timeless way that she¡¯d always been until so recently?

    She didn¡¯t know, but then, she didn¡¯t know that it mattered, either. She had lived a long enough life that it was measured in centuries, and for most of that time she had been content to drift along as if it would never end. Now all that mattered now was that the Lich did not get its hands on her soul and continue her torment in perpetuity.

    It would be bad enough that it would shape and eventually seize whatever sprang up from the polluted banks of the Oroza next, but she could do nothing about that now. She¡¯d already fought too long and too hard and lost everything in the process.

    While she drifted through the southern reaches of her realm toward the silty delta, she bitterly reflected on how little her efforts had accomplished. She had prevented the darkness from marching east immediately, but that had only given those people a two-year reprieve. Beyond that, what had she done? Saved some children? Torn apart as many of the Lich¡¯s constructs as she could?

    Oroza smiled at that as she glided along. It wasn¡¯t much, but it would have to be enough. Before that, she¡¯d granted the wishes of countless mothers for healthy babies and even more farmers for bountiful yields, but somehow, all those minor miracles paled in comparison to the dark years that had done such damage to her.

    All she could hope for was that in time, after the Gods finally stood together and defeated this enemy, or the darkness had consumed all the life in the area and burned itself out, that nature would finally begin to heal. One day there would be an Oroza again. She believed that. She just knew that it wouldn¡¯t be her.

    The behavior of the other Gods was the point that galled her the most. Their domains were so disparate, and their concerns were so focused that it was hard to get them to work together on anything, especially since the nature goddesses and the children of the forest had begun to vanish.

    It was the nature of man to be selfish, but the Gods were supposed to rise above such petty challenges and work together to defeat their enemies. Sadly, they could not even accomplish that much.

    The All-Father was almost finished building a new chariot, but Lunaris would not loan him any of her stars to wrangle the horses for it. She said the firmament was too weak to support any more losses.

    Even if she had, though, who would they get to drive such a thing? For a time, she had hoped that the Templar with the glowing eyes might be the one to do so, but according to what she¡¯d heard, he was dead, and the place where she¡¯d left those light-eyed children so long ago was gone too.

    Siddrim had once been a man, it was said, before he was invested with the light. Perhaps another like that would be born somewhere across the seas.

    None of that mattered to her any longer as she traveled out to sea herself. She used to hate the itch of the saltwater in the Relict Sea, but compared to her own waters now, they felt clean and pure, and she quick sank beneath the waves, letting the currents take her ever deeper. That was all she wanted, to find a place somewhere where her tormentor could never find her, and there was no place vaster than the ocean depths.

    That was why she was surprised when Istinis found her there, curled up beneath a rock in thousands of feet of water, a hundred miles from anywhere in a plain of endless mud and stone. Her pale aqua skin and the flickering lightning in her eyes made a mistaken identity impossible. She was Istiniss.

    Normally, such an unexpected visit might have frightened Oroza. After all, it wasn¡¯t so long ago that the Lich compelled her to invade the more powerful Goddess¡¯s domain and ravage her behemoths with the Lich¡¯s crazed sea dragon. Now, death would be a blessing, and if the Ocean Goddess wanted to strike her down, well, so much the better.

    Instead, the two of them regarded each other for a long time before Istiniss finally spoke. ¡°I would make you one of my own if I could,¡± the Goddess said at last. ¡°I would give your domain of the east wind and let you pour out your poison on the creature that did this to you, but that is beyond me.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that,¡± Oroza said, too tired to offer up any proper formality.

    ¡°Sadly, you cannot die here,¡± the storm goddess said as she crouched down next to Oroza¡¯s coiled form.

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    ¡°I can¡¯t?¡± Oroza asked. ¡°Do you think is too close to¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, I promise you that the monster that ravages your land would never find your spirit,¡± Istiniss said, stroking the silvery scales of Oroza¡¯s flank. ¡°I would bind you to a pearl and hide you away at the very bottom of the sea. In a place, it would never think to look for you.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that,¡± Oroza answered with a smile wide enough to show how many teeth she¡¯d lost already.

    ¡°I know, but the prophecy, and therefore Lunaris herself, forbids that you should die in this place alone,¡± the sea goddess said at last.

    ¡°Does she have another one?¡± Oroza asked. ¡°I heard her recite the thing once, and I¡¯m nowhere in it, I can promise you that. Rivers do not change the course of history.¡±

    The only answer that Istiniss gave was to smile before she started to recite one of the long rhyming passages that made up the cryptic poem that the Moon Goddess seemed to believe held some sort of key to defeating the evils that they faced.

    ¡°The savior of light shall brave endless night

    Though if she could, she¡¯d only weep.

    Until she returns to the light, she¡¯ll continue to fight,

    Then she can finally sleep.¡±

    ¡°I am no savior of light,¡± Oroza laughed softly. ¡°I couldn¡¯t even save myself.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Istiniss agreed. ¡°I didn¡¯t think so either, but our Moon Goddess is quite sure. She says that you told her about how you saved an entire boat full of light not so long ago, though, and perhaps that is enough.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Oroza sighed, ¡°But wouldn¡¯t it make more sense for one of the children on that boat to be the savior of the light?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Istiniss said with a shrug. ¡°I read the whole thing but confess it made no sense to me. Regardless, Lunaris told me that I must not allow you to die, and I aim to do that at least.¡±

    ¡°How? Will you purge my river of the poisons?¡± Oroza asked. ¡°Will you drain it of the salt that is killing the plants that dwell there?¡±

    ¡°I would if I could,¡± the Goddess of Sea and Storms nodded. ¡°I would empty every thunderhead in the world on that evil patch of land if I thought that it could cleanse its taint, but that would only poison the sea faster.¡±

    ¡°Then all you can do is put me out of my misery,¡± Oroza smiled sadly, certain that a blast of lightning would be enough to stop the slow wheezing in her chest each time she breathed in and out through her gills.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Istiniss said. ¡°I already told you you aren¡¯t dying in my ocean. Lunaris is already cross enough with me. I¡¯m going to help you get somewhere where you can recover your strength, at least for a while. It''s very far away, but once that¡¯s done, well, as long as you fulfill your destiny, I suppose you can do whatever you want.¡±

    Oroza opened her large mouth to speak. She was going to explain that she lacked the strength to swim for another mile, let alone leagues and leagues, but the words were lost in the sudden surge of currents that surrounded her. They pulled her out of her own grave and flung her off at great speed through the darkness to someplace only Istiniss knew.

    There was a time when Oroza would have fought her way free on principle. She lacked the strength to do that now, though. Instead, she was dragged through the depths back toward the surface. That was not her destination, though. Instead, she was propelled for a night and a day like that toward warmer waters and sunnier climes.

    Three times, she saw an island speeding toward her from the horizon, and each time, she thought that was her destination. She passed all of them by, though.

    Oroza glided across the water until she no longer recognized the color of the water or the sky. Even her cleanest mountain lakes were not so teal, and the strange pink rocks she glimpsed beneath her were contrasted by brightly colored fish that were every color of the rainbow. She would have thought for certain that she¡¯d left the world entirely for some new place were it not for the constellations in the sky.

    Then, the next morning, shortly after sunrise she spied a fourth island, and the currents carried her all the way to the breakwaters of it before they finally released her. It was a strange place, with oddly shaped trees that had broad leaves only at the very top of tall, crooked trunks.

    All of that was beautiful, but as she got close to the shore and let her dragon form fade away to reveal only an old woman in a silver dress, it was the woman standing on shore that caught her attention. She was alone there, in ankle-deep water, wearing fine black clothing that did not fit at all with everything else. She had no idea what to make of that, but she didn¡¯t feel at all threatened by the dark-skinned woman as she slowly waded ashore.

    ¡°I was sent here,¡± Oroza said, rising from the surf and walking toward the shore on shaky legs.

    ¡°You were,¡± she agreed, ¡°but you don¡¯t have to come here. Not if you don¡¯t want to.¡±

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I want to?¡± Oroza asked, suddenly unsure.

    ¡°Where you stand now, you have the traces of not just life and death, but undeath upon you as well.¡± The dark woman said. ¡°If you leave the surf and come fully onto the shore, you will leave behind two of those worlds forever.¡±

    Oroza paused. Trying to decipher the cryptic words as she stood there, struggling against the tide as it lapped against the shore. She was exhausted, and truly, there was nowhere else for her to go. Still, she asked the obvious question, ¡°Who are you?¡±

    The dark woman smiled with frighteningly white teeth and said a word. It might have been a name, even, but it was lost in the crashing of the tide that churned around them.

    ¡°That won¡¯t mean too much to you, though,¡± she continued, extending his hand, ¡°Not until you make your decision.¡±

    Oroza only had to think for a moment. Then, with determination, she gripped the stranger¡¯s hand and strode ashore.

 Ch. 159 - Uneasy Silence

    At first, the denizens of the port sought simply to ignore the dark fleet that had anchored in such a way as to choke off most of the harbor¡¯s approach. A few brave merchant ships rowed by during the day, but by night, they lost their nerve and hid in the port, hoping for one more night of safety.

    The Voice of Reason would have let them go, of course. Killing merchants and sinking their fine ships in sight of the city would have been exactly the wrong thing to do, to prepare for all that was coming next.

    Twice, a small formation of ships rigged for war formed up in the harbor, preparing to sail on the Voice¡¯s fleet. Whether that was because they planned to fight or because their pride demanded that they show they were, she couldn¡¯t say. The spirits of the sailors they¡¯d fished from the wreckage of their last battle largely agreed that the ships were waiting for the return of the fleet she¡¯d already burned and that they would strike once they sighted those white sales on the horizon.

    It would have been a classic pincer maneuver. It would probably have been quite effective, even. Sadly, they were out of allies and the fearful men would have to treat with her directly, or continue to cower behind the beautiful walls of their fragile city until she finally lost patience with them.

    Given enough nights to study the place, she didn¡¯t need her master¡¯s Dark Paragon to tell her that it would have been much easier to conquer this place than Constantinal or Rahkin. She might have enough death knights and other constructs to march right up through the harbor and sack the palace in a night or two.

    That would have defeated the point, though, she thought crossly to herself while she admired the distant lights that flickered off the glittering waves. The Lich had endless numbers of servants that could conquer, but only one that could do it without swords, and she needed to show her worth in that regard.

    It took almost two weeks for the powers of Tanda to cease their bickering and send forth an envoy. His dhow was an ornate pleasure craft, which made it quite showy, but it was a flat-decked vessel that left nowhere to hide unwelcome surprises.

    She approved. It was a sensible choice intended not to provoke her further while still offering a glimpse of the wealth and status of this place.

    Thanks to the wraiths that circled the waters like so many gulls, she knew what she would see long before the fragile boat reached her flagship. Onboard the Mysterious Ways was a single, plump eunuch who only just barely managed not to tremble as he stood there between his eight rowers, reeking of fear.

    The voice stood there as the boat pulled slowly alongside of hers, and then as he began to shout his entries as to parlay, she walked toward the bow of her ship, tracing the rails lightly as she studied the little man and his strange accent.

    He tried three different languages before the figurehead on the bow of her vessel began to unfurl and extend. The Voice wasn¡¯t concerned. She knew every language her Master did, and she was sure that any that she did not already know would come to her quickly.

    The figurehead had been a beautiful maiden made of ivory holding a harp, but as soon as the Voice approached her, she extended into her true form, becoming a bony Llamaia that slithered almost completely free of her bonds, becoming a delicate stairway that curved around toward the aft of the dhow.

    Though she could be unleashed completely and made into a killing machine, that was not the main purpose of the figurehead. It was to provide an easy way for the Voice to board and disembark the vessel. After all, she was far too heavy to float, and if she were to fall into the water, there would be nothing to catch her until she reached the abyssal sands hundreds of feet below.

    Though she could presumably walk until she reached the shore again, she didn¡¯t like to think of what such a fate would do to her fine dress or carefully tanned skin. The odds of staying unmolested by the things that dwelled down there long enough to reach land weren¡¯t good, and she had not been built to fight them. Evidently, the Lich had similar fears, for it had given her this guardian to prevent exactly that fate, and graceful Llamia did an excellent job.

    Even though both ships bobbed up and down in the surf out of sync with each other, the Voice never felt it. Instead, each bony stair beneath her moved ever so slightly to cancel out all the motion, making her the only part of the entire tableau that was even capable of stillness as she walked down the path with her stiff, prideful gate.

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    The screams started before she reached the dhow, but she knew that they weren¡¯t because of her. None of the rowers who were trying their very best to fling themselves into the sea were attempting to escape the beautiful woman in black who was strolling down her own private staircase made of serpentine vertebra; instead, they were doing all they they could to escape her loyal llama.

    They couldn¡¯t, though. They were chained to their rowing benches, and in the end, all they could do was find something to defend themselves.

    When the voice stepped onto the deck, she curtsied slightly in her long black dress. She only walked three steps forward before the first fearful slave attempted to strike out at her. Fortunately, his master was faster with his whip, and before the terrified rower could strike a second time, the chubby little eunuch was already waddling toward her.

    ¡°Mistress, please!¡± he said, struggling to maintain his composure as he moved himself between her and the rest of his crew. ¡°One thousand pardons for this. I will have him flayed to within an inch of his life once we return to port. I am Harun Rok, a lowly functionary who serves the Sultan, and I have come here to ascertain who the great power behind such a fleet might be and what it is that they would want from the ivory port of Tanda.¡±

    ¡°This would be an acceptable apology,¡± she nodded, letting a moment of silence linger before she continued just to make the man sweat. ¡°I am the Voice of Reason, and I come from the darkened lands to the south at the behest of my Master.¡±

    ¡°Your Master?¡± he asked hopefully, seeking to wheedle out more information, but the Voice ignored him.

    ¡°We thank you for your bravery, Harun Rok,¡± the Voice said with a cold smile, ¡°But this is a conversation for your lord. You are here to work out the details for such things and nothing more.¡±

    The man was so concerned with the snake woman that lingered just beneath her that he barely noticed the slight. Instead, he nodded blankly and agreed, ¡°Yes, the arrangements, of course. When will you¡­¡±

    ¡°Midnight,¡± she said in a tone that was as much answer as it was command. ¡°I shall journey to the palace tomorrow at midnight so that we may have an amicable discussion about all of this. Please go and deliver this message to your lord so that he may expect my arrival.¡±

    The man had obviously expected a longer audience or even negotiations, but as soon as the exchange was complete, the Voice was turning away and returning to her ship. There was nothing to be gained by further discussions with someone who had no power, not when the cost was mystery and intrigue. She would let poor master Rok return alone with nothing but a name and a time, and that would be enough to practically watch the whole of Tanda¡¯s dense harbor, and white walls burst into flames of intrigue from here.

    She watched the tiny dhow slink back the way it had come with its tail between its legs, and In the day that followed, she did little except choose a few appropriate gifts as tokens of her Master¡¯s generosity. After some consideration, she chose a fist-sized pearl carved in the shape of an eye and a wind-up raven made of brass and bone that would flap its wings quite convincingly when the key was turned.

    The latter had no magic, of course, which was just as well because the former was overflowing in enchantments. With the right level of focus from the Lich, it would be able to spy on half the city even if they tucked this thing away in the deepest treasury, which is what any sensible ruler would do. Still, it was a work of singular beauty, and the iridescent iris was arresting in its detail, so she was fairly certain that a ruler with this level of wealth and vanity would put it on display regardless of what his advisors had to say.

    She wouldn¡¯t have to wait long to find out, though. Less than 24 hours later, her ship, along with two more flanking it, moved slowly toward the vacant pier at the heart of Tanda¡¯s harbor where her small company of only a few dozen disembarked. The voice no longer had her carriage, but even if she did, she wouldn¡¯t have had any way of moving it from sea to land. Neither did she have any way of matching the ostentatious pomp of this foreign place, so she didn¡¯t try.

    Instead, she met the overwhelming wealth of their mosaics and silken banners with dread austerity as she mounted her palanquin and was carried into the city by four towering death knights. They were escorted by another three dozen that marched in perfect unison; it was an impressive showing of steel and precision, but that was not the reason that she¡¯d chosen them for this occasion.

    It wasn¡¯t even because they were as merciless as they were deadly; It was because out of all the soldiers and monstrosities concealed below decks in the black fleet, these were the only ones that appeared to be human in a convincing way, and while she was in no way ashamed of her undeath or that of her minions, she had a better understanding of fear and panic after the events of Rahkin, and she would not let the reaction of the streets and those who dwelled among the gutters force the Sultan¡¯s hand.

    So, despite the growing crowds, she and her fearsome entourage marched in perfect silence from the harbor to the palace. There had been a welcoming party to greet them, headed by the same eunuch and a few other dignitaries, but her dismissive gaze had made her stance clear without a wasted word: I am not here for you.

    That dismissive silence clung to the group as it made its way to the palace, and though the size and the volume of the onlookers increased as they went, even their exclamations were not enough to breach the metallic drum beat of dead footsteps that silenced everything as they went.

 Ch. 160 - Foreign Gods

    The voice had known that Tanda was going to be wealthy before she¡¯d ever set sail on this voyage. The northern trade routes were well known for luxuries that were very nearly unheard of in the South. Even her time spent off the coast, watching the city night after night, had not prepared her for the dizzying variety of that wealth, though.

    The undertemple within the Lich¡¯s lair was a gilded nightmare that grew more extravagant with each passing year, but even that terrible heart of luxury was the only part of her Master¡¯s kingdom to compare to the thousand delights she saw on her way to the palace. It was a humbling experience, in its way, though none of that consternation made its way to her carefully neutral face.

    Instead, she studied the sights from her ornate palanquin as she glided through the darkened streets and studied the city that passed around her. The city was made up of stone and stucco buildings, and each dwelling that was too poor for a mosaic or statues to mark its existence was decorated with colorful frescoes or lined with ornate friezes.

    Together, the result was that it was impossible to tell which buildings might be the tenements of paupers and which might be the homes of merchant lords. In the end, the whole thing became a sort of temple in its own right, and between the silken banners and fine clothes of the natives that had braved the late hour to see what the commotion was, the only symbol of status that she could ultimately discern were the small gardens and oasis that hid behind wrought iron fences along her route. In a city where everything was fancy, only a few could afford the space for simplicity.

    That lesson was driven home when they finally reached the palace of Tanda¡¯s Sultun. It was a large, towering building, built in a spiral like a narwhal¡¯s horn in such a way that it lorded over the rest of the walled city. It was neither its size nor its opalescent tiles that made it stand out, but the broad and verdant gardens that separated it from the rest of the city like a green manicured moat.

    Guards with wicked halberds had lined the whole route to the palace. They kept the commoners away from her death knights as much as anything, but here she faced what might as well have been an opposing army. Not only were there hundreds of broad-shouldered men wearing well-polished conical caps standing at attention, but there were mages too, draped in silk and watching her from high above as they circled her on tiny flying carpets.

    The scene struck her as a show of force that was almost as ostentatious as the rest of the city, but then the Voice of Reason was sure that was the point, and to her, it stank of weakness, not strength. Mortal soldiers needed to eat and sleep. Most importantly, they needed to be paid, and with as much money as the people of Tanda spent on their decorations, she doubted very much that they had a large standing army.

    So, instead of doing anything that might provoke conflict, she dismounted her palanquin and strode past the assembled defenders with only a single skeletal knight in tow to hold her baggage as she walked toward the palace gates. No one opposed her. Indeed, the sense of relief radiating off these perfumed warriors that this would not devolve into bloodshed as she walked through the garden-lined path was palpable, and the towering bronze gates opened before her quickly enough that she didn¡¯t even need to slow her steps.

    Once inside, she finally stood on familiar ground. There, she encountered the true warriors of the merchant realm, the servants and the courtiers, and she was bombarded with all the polite and hospitable weapons that they had to offer. The Voice of Reason would not allow these to slow her down, either. She knew that she had perhaps five hours until the blue-gray light of dawn colored the horizon once more. As much as she might wish for all the time in the world to conclude such important negotiations, time was ever against the servants of the Lich.

    So, buffeted by fawning curiosity, she moved ever forward, giving the well-dressed men and women that swirled around her just enough information to announce her properly as she moved toward the heart of the court. There, she found a place not at all like the audience halls of the South that she was used to. Instead, she found the Sultan half reclined on a pile of plush cushions at the heart of the building, ensconced in the warm light of oil lamps and the glowing wards of mages.

    The Voice of Reason made no effort to approach these. Instead, as the room was stilled and her presence was announced in half a dozen foreign tongues, she studied the men and women that ringed the outside of the room to watch. It was clear to her immediately that not all of them were human. Some of those in attendance were shown with an inner light that marked them as spirits or even small gods.

    Are such things more common here? She wondered. Did that make peace a more or less likely prospect?

    The Voice wasn¡¯t sure. Such things might change the outcome, but they wouldn¡¯t change her efforts. It was not at all unlikely that a city as old and grand as Tanda would have a godling of its own, but who were the others, then? Might the desert have a spirit? What about the river or the bay?

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    All of that would require further study, which would be the prerogative of any number of other spirits. Her job was not to puzzle this strangeness out but to make peace with it, which she did with her gifts, a chilly smile, and as many kind words as she could muster.

    The Sultan¡¯s servants took her precious objects from her as she presented each of them, and once that was done the Sultan looked down on her magnanimously and offered her exotic incenses and aged wines from a dozen different ports along with golden jewelry. It was only the last that the Lich would have an interest in, but she thanked him for all of them just the same.

    ¡°Surely you have come all this way for more than gifts and pleasantries,¡± the Sultan said finally. ¡°Tell me¡­ tell all of us what your dark fleet is doing here.¡±

    ¡°We have come to make war¡ª¡± she started to answer, but the Sultan quickly interrupted her as he finally pulled his bulk up to his full height instead of slouching.

    ¡°Is this a threat? In the heart of our power, you think to¡ª¡± he started to say, his indignity rising with each word.

    ¡°But we have come to make friends too,¡± she said, continuing in a loud, clear voice that silenced the few remaining whispers. ¡°The darkness has risen and claimed the South, but it will not stop there. In time, the whole world will belong to my master.¡±

    ¡°Tanda has stood for hundreds of years and resisted dozens of armies,¡± the Sultan said, leaning forward. He was obviously enjoying this as he licked his fat lips. ¡°What makes you think yours would do any more than add to the bones in the wastelands around the city?¡±

    ¡°Besides the fact that those bones would be converted into fresh soldiers for the fight?¡± the Voice smiled. ¡°Tanda has been strong for a long time. It would be strong even now, at first, at least, but we have already claimed Constantinal and Rahkin and every kingdom in between the two, and only those few that surrendered to the darkness still live and breathe. All the rest are broken places, grown over with weeds and shadows.¡±

    ¡°So you ask us to bend the knee?¡± The Sultan asked, appearing even more annoyed. He looked like he was about to tell her off, but a look at one of the women who lounged around the base of the Sultan¡¯s dais seemed to make him think better of it. ¡°We will not surrender to you or anyone else, but we would¡­ consider an alliance, perhaps, with the proper terms.¡±

    ¡°An interesting proposal,¡± the voice said automatically, but it had barely registered. ¡°What would that look like in your mind?¡±

    Instead of dealing with the puppet figurehead, she turned her gaze to the woman whom she¡¯d thought to be nothing more than a courtesan until that moment. She was dressed in pale silks and golden ornaments that showed more of her body than they hid, but as soon as their eyes met, the Voice could see an ageless depth in the eyes of the other woman.

    While it was possible she was a mage, it was far more likely that this was the goddess of Tanda here, hiding in plain sight. It was that insight that guided the rest of the Voice¡¯s conversation with the Sultan. He might have been the one saying the words, but it was the nameless woman¡¯s body language she was listening to as the two of them began the elaborate dance of diplomacy.

    For the next two hours, the three of them made proposals and counterproposals as everything slowly fell into place. Given the Sultan¡¯s hostility, it was hard to understand why this meeting was even taking place at first, but it eventually became clear why: Constantial. Every time the name of that city came up, the Voice saw the shadow of fear cross the eyes of her true opponent. The goddess of Tanda did not wish to share the same fate as her sister city and was forcing the mortals that ostensibly ruled her to find another way.

    That was reasonable. That was a motivation that the Voice of Reason could understand, and she used that to frame the discussion. Guaranteeing both the city-state of Tanda as well as any of their partners that wished to sign on as well safety and security both from the Lich and any of their neighbors that might feel differently for a moderate tithe, to be delivered monthly to Rahkin, or possibly other nearby cities after they had been conquered.

    ¡°O-o-one percent of the city¡¯s population every year¡­¡± the Sultan stammered when she first proposed the terms. ¡°Even spread out monthly, that would still be dozens of ships! The cost is too high!¡±

    ¡°You would lose more people in your first night of standing against use than you would in a year of fealty,¡± the Voice insisted. ¡°I¡¯d invite you to ask the good people of Rahkin, but they refused our generous offer and are no more.¡±

    That caused a round of collective gasps, but the Sultan ignored them. ¡°If you¡¯re so confident, then why not ask for two percent or even ten percent?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We seek a relationship that will span decades,¡± the Voice answered smoothly. ¡°No city could flourish under such an onerous yoke.¡±

    That metaphor was as close as she dared step to the truth. The people of this city, and all cities that might yet be brought to heel, were nothing but herds of cattle, and so they would be harvested slowly. For now, they could pay in beggars and criminals, but she was certain that in time when the Lich held dominion over the world, they would pay with their prayers and their dreams, too. After all, just as her dark lord used every part of the body to build its creations, it would use every part of creation to build what was going to come next.

    Though the negotiations lasted almost until morning, she returned to her ship before the first sun rose with a deal signed in blood. One more city entered the fold, and she hadn¡¯t lost so much as a single death¡¯s head to achieve her goal.

 Ch. 161 - An End for Abenend

    Though it took almost a year for the winds of magic to sour enough to spell the doom of the Magica Collegium, the effects were felt widely within months. For a time, the mages struggled against the invisible noose of the Lich without any real understanding of exactly what it was it had done, but it was no use.

    First, the delicate divination and teleportation magics they relied on to detect and counter any incursions into the valley failed them, and in time, everything else did as well. By the time Groshin¡¯s rats had wormed their way into the granaries of the villages and the basement of the school itself, the wards that had protected it for so long were spontaneously combusting nearly every day and becoming almost as hazardous to those they protected as to those they defended against.

    In that way, magic was increasingly becoming more of a liability than anything. One minute, a set of wards that had been carved into the doorway of a building to protect it from evil were doing the job they''d done for generations, and the next, they were bursting into flame and catching the thatched roof on fire.

    It was a subtle evil that apparently not even their Goddess had discovered the cause of. For it was only at the end of things when mages were already fleeing their sinking ship, that they even thought to begin striking out those ancient wards with hammer and chisel. Those short-sighted actions would not save them, though; they just made Tenebroum more eager for what was to come next.

    The mages of Abenend had lived by magic for so long, and now they would die from it as well. The Lich hungered for that moment. It remembered well when they tried to drown it and smother it in its cradle. They had failed, but it would still return the favor. Tenebroum just wished that it had been able to use water rather than air to affect its revenge; it would have been more poetic that way.

    Indeed, the day the hordes of undead finally began to pour the tunnels that had been dug in opportune places where underground caverns nearly reached the surface, it was probably already over, and most of the runes that might have warned the mages of what was coming had long since been defaced. The result was a massacre.

    Until now, every assault after the first one had been met with overwhelming firepower as soon as the Lich¡¯s forces were within range. This time, the mages that remained to secure the walls of the Collegium were blindsided, and the battle that followed was bloody and brief.

    It was hard to fight, of course, when every fifth spell might blow up in the face of the caster. Even before the Lich¡¯s abominations had topped the ramparts, there were already mages on fire and others who had turned themselves to stone in the face of twisted essence. For the first time in their long history, indeed, for the first time in the history of the world, the winds of magic had turned against them, and they had no idea how to cope with that.

    Tenebroum had decided not to send anything fancy or complicated on the assault, for that reason, of course. Krulm¡¯venor and the shadow drake were both left home, far from this battlefield, because the delicate spells that bound their tremendous power might unravel in a stray gust of un-wind. Instead, the Lich sent simple, bloodthirsty creatures that were less likely to be affected by such complexities.

    The wights and the war zombies that boiled up from the ground and charged across the night were fast and brutal but not nearly as fast as the centipede cavalry that followed in their wake.

    The multi-legged horses and their skeletal riders sometimes started to come apart where the lack of magic treated them unfavorably, but this didn¡¯t stop them from forming siege ladders on nearly every stone wall that protected the school. Its cavalry was gruesome but fairly simple. Even the relatively simple magics that tied together the bones of dozens of different people and animals were too complex for the terrible smog that now covered the valley.

    Indeed, the strangulite-laden winds proved more dangerous than the mages themselves, and once they had unfolded in place, only a few of them were dislodged by lightning and other magics. The casters themselves weren¡¯t so lucky. They became lightning rods that glowed even brighter than their targets while they were boiled alive by their own magics.

    It was a thing of beauty, or at least it would have been had Tenebroum dared to observe it up close. The whole valley of Abenend, with its few remaining twinkling lights, was too contaminated for it to even risk a view from a flock of red-eyed black birds thousands of feet above. Instead, it merely tasted the impressions from its bloodthirsty minions as they charged heedlessly into danger. The resulting picture of a hundred maddened viewpoints was fairly complete but hopelessly flawed, like viewing the world through thick, frosted glass. Even if the details were lacking, the pain still came through very clearly.

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    It didn¡¯t need to see every blow to know that it was winning. It could tell that merely from the taste of blood and the sight of distant fire as the fortress finally began to burn.

    In the end, even the Lich had expected the defenders to put up more of a fight than this, but famine and the loss of magic had taken their toll; apparently, the two combined had broken the spirit of the mages far faster than it had hoped. Even so, it had expected that it would have to repeat this assault, once, or even twice more, to finally purge the annoying mages.

    When it saw the moon moving through the sky to defend her last bastion of mortal defenders, Tenebroum knew it had already won, though. She would never do such a bold thing unless her cherished mages were on the brink of defeat. As far as evil and darkness went, she was a terrible weapon in her own right, and as she brightened, night faded into pale twilight.

    As her light flooded the valley fully, it was enough to cause all of its undead minions who were not already deep inside the castle to turn to dust. Dozens of its minions died, but every one of them was easily replaceable, and Tenebroum cared very little for the loss. It would have lost a thousand minions to put her in such a vulnerable place without batting an eye because it was then that the Lich launched the weapon it had been working on for so long, just in case an opportunity like this should ever arise.

    Tenebroum could never be sure that the witch Lunaris would strike at it again at this moment, of course, but it had been certain that she would do so again one day. That was why it had taken the cancerous shard that would never become a copy of its dutiful Dark Paragon and turned the thing into a single cursed weapon that was closer to arcane cancer than any true construct it had built.

    The thing still had a tiny piece of its maker at its core, of course, but it had mutated beyond all recognition. It was a violent, primitive thing now, made from dark ether, and the Lich was certain that even if it tried to give the thing a body, it would have been quite mad and very nearly uncontrollable. So it didn¡¯t bother.

    In the last two years, the constantly morphing dark crystal shards had been pruned and sharpened, and they had been fitted with wings and enough minor air essence to ensure that it could fly as quickly as even the dark rider. The Lich had never bothered to name the dread creation, though, as a drudge that had been stationed on a nearby mountaintop for just this purpose released it, and the thing soared across the sky Tenebroum decided that it looked like a harpoon or a vampire bat more than anything.

    The Goddess paid no attention to it as it soared over the top of the Wodenspine mountains, aiming ever higher. She was so intent on burning the evil that was burrowing its way ever deeper into the heart of the Magica Collegium that she only noticed the jet-black projectile gliding against the black backdrop of the night sky in the moments before it struck her.

    By that point, it had flown so high that it had left even the tallest peaks in the distance behind it. Lunaris tried to retreat then, but she was too slow. She tried to blast it with the full force of her light, but it was impossible to focus on a point that was so close to her, and in the end, all she succeeded in doing was burning the wings off of the dread creation before it pierced the thin skin of lunar soil, and began to worm its way deeper inside of her like a bladed tapeworm.

    The soul shard had been rejected by Tenebroum because it was too aggressive and too out of control for any conventional servant it would care to make. To unmake one, though, or even a God, it was perfect, and it quickly began to spread out its tendrils of avarice and hate as it sought to devour its host.

    The moon screamed, then, as she turned away from the world completely to focus on the tiny shard of shrapnel that was growing inside her as it looked for something vital to sever and devour. As she retreated into the void, Tenebroum¡¯s awareness of its construct slowly faded. It doubted that a single pinprick would be enough to end such a powerful goddess, but it would certainly remind her that even she was not beyond its reach. That wound would take up her focus for a long time, and it would have been enough to put a grim smile on its face if it had been more than implacable gilded bones.

    Instead, the Lich turned its gaze back to the fall of Abendend and felt the desperate battle play out as a distant series of urges. Rage, bloodlust, and fear dominated the scene and gave it just enough details to understand that though it only had a few hundred wights and reavers left in that cursed place, the mages were far fewer in number. There were perhaps only a few dozen of them left, and they were quickly becoming an endangered species in their own bloody halls.

    In the basements, at the heart of their power, their magic worked far better, but even their strength could not last forever. It also cut them off from their greatest ally of all: the light. The suns eventually started to rise, but that light could not harm the teeming horde of the dead that still fought in the depths.

    For hour after hour, the two wildly uneven forces fought. Mages blasted apart whole corridors full of bloodthirsty monsters with their wands and staves, only to be ripped apart in turn by the pieces of the survivors that were still strong enough to rip them to bloody shreds. The fighting was as intense as any his forces had endured since the fall of Constantinal, and part of the Lich longed to get closer to the violence, but it knew the whole area was poisoned still, so it resisted.

    After the obelisks had been shut down and the whole area had been allowed to detoxify for several weeks, it would collect all the souls and trophies worth collecting. It would still have what it needed, even if the bodies had long since grown cold.

 Ch. 162 - Awakening the Wolf

    The battle lasted all day, and it wasn¡¯t even clear until almost evening that Tenebroum¡¯s forces would win. At this point, the outcome of the war was not in doubt, even if this desperate battle still hung in the balance. In the broadest sense, it wouldn¡¯t matter if it took one battle or five of them to secure their doom. However, if it gave the mages breathing room, it would almost certainly affect the quality of knowledge that it would be able to pillage from the place.

    That was what drove the Lich on more than anything at this point. A victory for the mages, while meaningless in itself, would give them hours or days to address the corpses that littered the interior of the Magica Collegium. Every head they managed to burn on a funeral pyre would be one less mage that it could add to its library. While both men and undead abominations were replaceable, the arcane knowledge contained in the minds of some of these men was not.

    That was what drove it to scrape together whatever reinforcements it could, including drudges fit only for digging tunnels. It would send another wave the following evening, even if only to keep the mages pinned. Fortunately, that proved unnecessary. A few minutes before the blood-red sunset, the final mage was torn to pieces where he was hiding in an alcove on the third basement floor. Out of the hundreds of deathless warriors the Lich had sent to launch this surprise attack, only seventeen of them still moved, and none of them were whole, but it was enough.

    Thanks to what it had done to the flows of magic, it had been able to accomplish with a small force what it probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to do with the entirety of its army if magic had worked properly. It had even wounded the Goddess Lunaris herself, which was, in its mind, worth nearly as much as the sacking of Abenend. Both were victories worth celebrating, and it immediately ordered Verdenin to have his acolytes and sightless monks do just that. What was the point of having a congregation or worshipers if not for moments like this?

    Sadly, the Lich could not begin to investigate its spoils immediately. Instead, its minions had to disable all of the dark obelisks and dread monoliths that it had spent so long installing. Then, once that was done, it had to wait weeks for several storm systems to dilute and dissipate the poison that had taken so long to build.

    Tenebroum spent that time listening to the songs and the chants of its growing priesthood as it lurked among the undertemple. Most of these rites involved human sacrifice, at the moment of crescendo, but these were largely war captives taken from isolated villages, or tribute that had come to it from the Voice of Reason by way of Tanda. None of those lives mattered, of course, at the best use of them was for moments like this.

    Tenebroum acknowledged that such moments were indulgent, but they passed the time, and it had no other pressing tasks to accomplish. Most of its ever enlarging empire proceeded on autopilot at this point, leaving it free for new experiments. The Lich did not have to travel east to Constantinal to ensure that the production of its armies were proceeding on schedule, any more than it had to travel north to where its armies were marching across the desert, one night at a time.

    Indeed, the only thing it paused to do besides bask in the adoration and the fear of its worshipers was to study the stain on the face of the moon. Because of the way her phases changed, and she moved to hide the darkness, it was hard to see, but even so, Tenebroum could very clearly see the shadow''s long tendrils crawling across her surface. Its weapon had found its mark, and though it spread slowly, it was still spreading, which meant that the Lunar Goddess of magic and protection still hadn¡¯t found a way to fully combat his vile sorcery.

    That was welcome news, highlighting that she was every bit as unprepared for him as Siddrim had been. So, while the Lich listened to dirges that celebrated his final victory over the last holdout of the area, it mused and deliberated over various plans that might be used to end her once and for all before passing them off to its library so they could be refined and implemented.

    It was only three weeks later when the taint in Abened had fallen by more than ninety percent, that the Lich approached the school in a body that had been prepared for this environment. Though not exactly built for combat, the abomination it walked the world once more with had been fortified and reinforced with a leaden skin that had been embedded with hundreds of cast iron runes that were meant to warn and protect against the worst of the miasma¡¯s effects.

    This form carried no weapons with it beyond its metal fists and its powerful runes of protection. Indeed, it was armed only with a golden collar that it had made for its quarry, should it really be here.

    Tenebroum wished to see the lair of its enemy with its own eyes, but it would not do so in a foolhardy way that would see it crippled for weeks or worse. Its encounter with the Templar and his dragon fire had left an indelible lesson in that regard.

    Still, if those mages had so many powerful weapons that they could use them so casually, then it was that much more important that it carefully dissected their holdings itself. That was why it did not delegate this task to a lesser mind and journeyed from the cavernous beachhead its minions had dug several miles from the school to the charred gates themselves.

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    The way was not far and led through the partially rebuilt ruins of Abenend, but the faint glows that spread across the Lich¡¯s leaden skin revealed nothing it needed to be concerned about. The school itself, though, was another matter. There, in certain hallways and in places where the fighting had been thickest, the miasma still clung to the corpses of the fallen, and it was forced to backtrack and take new paths to its goals.

    In its wake, it left drudges with any number of orders: clean this up, gather those books, harvest and preserve these heads. There was always a flurry of activity in the Lich¡¯s wake, but whenever it was examining something important, it was always alone so that it might deliberate in stillness.

    The Collegium was a mess but an impressive one. From the outside, the Lich had viewed it as a castle and a bastion of war for so long that it was easy to forget that it was a school with lodging for hundreds of students and dozens of teachers. It took quite a lot of space to support all of those people, as well as the servants who cooked and cleaned for them. On top of all that facilities to support that mass of humanity, there were also innumerable warehouses, store rooms, study halls, libraries, workshops, and classrooms.

    After almost a day of wandering the premises, the Lich was fairly sure that the place was larger on the inside than it was on the outside. That realization was enough to make it recall the uncomfortable battle that occurred with the city god of Constantinal so long ago. For a brief moment, fear of that inexplicable infinity shot through it. If the space inside the Magica Collegium was distorted in similar ways, might there be similarly inescapable traps?

    The thought put the Lich on guard for the next several days, but it was not afraid. The mere idea that something might exist was not enough to merit retreat. After all, despite all the battles that had taken place here, it had never seen evidence of a small god associated with the Collegium. It was certainly old enough to have one, of course, but it was also entirely possible that the mages had done something to prevent one from taking root.

    Tenebroum might find the answer to those questions when it began to ransack the memories of the mages that lived here, but for now it put it out of its mind and focused on the present as it descended ever deeper into the dead hallways of the school.

    Along the way, the Lich found dozens of objects of interest, from magical relics that it did not fully understand to books that had been bound shut for unknown purposes. Every one of these was collected, but it was only on the bottom floor of the deepest basement that the Lich finally found what it was looking for.

    There, past remains that had been interred in Sepelchurs that displayed the honor or dishonor that led the mortal remains of some ancient sorcerer to be interred in such a spot; the Lich finally saw the stone sarcophagus it had been searching for, sealed in lead and lying undisturbed for who knew how long.

    The runes of its magic-resistant body glowed a dull, angry red down here. That wasn¡¯t because the whole floor was guarded against evil with layered enchantments. They might be enough to make a lesser drudge cease to function or crumble to dust, but against the Lich, all they could do was express their displeasure as it moved past them.

    When the Lich reached the Sarcophegus, it ripped the stone lid off without much effort at all. For a moment, the enchantments that warded the lid screamed against its touch, but even as its current body¡¯s fingertips began to melt, it hurled the thing aside, letting it shatter against the far wall.

    There, in the container, was a large, desiccated hound that might have been nearly the size of a pony bound by rusted chains. The Lich had half expected it to come to life on the spot, but when it sat there like little more than the mummified pet of a long-dead king, it placed the collar around the neck of the ancient hound¡¯s corpse, then picked up the animal and began to carry it toward the exit. Obviously, the magics and wards were still too stone down here, and it would need to be revived elsewhere.

    The wards that Tenebroum had bypassed easily enough did not like this turn of events and glowed all the fiercer as it tried to leave, forcing the Lich to deface several on his way out the door. The mages here had truly planned for everything; well, everything except for it, Tenebroum thought darkly.

    The Lich brought its burden to a dining hall on the first floor. It was empty and save for a single feature, utterly unimportant. It just happened to be just below the room on the second floor where Tenebroum had ordered its drudges to gather all the unimportant bodies.

    So, it set the hound down in the center of the floor, and then, with a thought, the Lich ordered one of the reavers in the room above to punch a hole in the floor above, allowing all the blood that had started to pool up there to rain down on the ancient creature.

    At first, nothing happened. It was only after almost a minute that Tenebroum noticed that the desiccated corpse was drinking in that awful vitality and slowly returning to life. Moment by moment, its muscles bulged, and its tissues became more supple until it was finally strong enough to shatter the chains that bound it.

    Slowly, like a newborn fawn it found the strength to stand, and stood there on shivering legs. Then, when it turned and saw the Lich standing there, it growled a deep, bone chilling growl that resonated throughout the room. It took a moment, and then it slowly advanced on the leaden construct with its teeth bared.

    Before it got halfway to Tenebroum, though, the Lich spat a command. ¡°Sit!¡± The word echoed through the room briefly, and then a moment later, though the giant hound clearly didn¡¯t want to, it did exactly that.

 Ch. 163 - Digging for Answers

    Tenebroum had hoped that the hound would have been able to provide it the answers it craved, unlike the incoherent swarm of rats, Ghrosian. In that way, at least, it was disappointed. The thing had a powerful soul, even in its weakened state, but there was no intelligence there. Instead, there was only an overflowing font of rage that swirled in its core.

    That wasn¡¯t completely different from the rats, of course, save that they swirled in fear. It could see how the two of them were compatible in that sense and that they might fit together. Not that it would ever bring them together, of course. The Lich had the nameless hound tied to a stake in a cave and allowed to continue to decontaminate for a month before it was brought back to Tenebroum¡¯s lair for further experiments.

    The hound spent most of its time sealed in a room on the third level, far from the caged rats that the Lich had brought here for study previously. The two might have very compatible souls that could fit together, but that did not mean that the Lich had any desire to bring them together. That was one experiment that was simply too dangerous until it knew more.

    At first, those were a matter of simple bloodsport. It would pit the thing against various beasts before having it fight men and even undead abominations. Though the hound was huge, it was also barely skin and bones when these matches started. Yet despite that, it never lost. There was a terrible ferocity in it that the Lich could not fully understand but was eager to see in action. In its first match against a grizzly bear, the hound tore it to shreds despite being entirely outclassed in both size and weight. It was a bloody spectacle that simply had to be seen to be believed.

    It scarcely killed any quicker when it faced off against a man in full plate mail. Somehow, despite any specific magics that Tenebroum could identify, the thing simply shredded its opponents, always becoming stronger than them, and after each bloody bout, it grew visibly. At first, it had been the size of a large hunting dog, but now it was something closer to a small horse, and even with its collar on, it paced back and forth pensively whenever the Lich locked it away.

    Sometimes, when Tenebroum brought its latest pet out of its cage, it would not be for its own private bloodsport. Instead, it would experiment on the thing while it bayed and howled. Sometimes, these experiments would be simple dissection and vivisection, as it wondered what made this thing tick and accounted for its strange immortality. Other times, it would be bound within one or more magic circles of the Lich¡¯s devising while it sought to study the thing with divination magics. It found nothing useful, which was as rare as it was frustrating.

    How could such a simple creature evade my understanding of it! Tenebroum thought in annoyance. It is more animal than spirit!

    Eventually, for lack of anything better to do, it released it into the Red Hills just to see what it would do to the poor, woefully unprepared goblin tribes that still existed there. The Lich still kept an outpost of undead at the gold mine where drudges slaved away endlessly, and it occasionally sought out unwilling goblins for experiments, but by and large, that place had lost most of its importance to the Lich, who was now focused on other fronts.

    The hound tore through the place like a force of nature, devouring a new lair nearly every night. It didn¡¯t matter if they used poison or magic, and if they fought with weapons or claws, nothing could stand against the monster.

    In fact, its performance was so frightening that Lich immediately began to work both on a better binding collar and a method of eliminating the wolf, should it ever find a way to turn on its owner. It clearly did not like being forced to obey, and the Lich had little doubt that if it ever broke free in the same way that the troublesome river spirit had, it would not end well.

    So, it set to work on several ooze-based solutions that would be entirely immune to the teeth and claws of the hound so that it would have options should the need arise. One of its fleshcrafters suggested that the Lich could install a failsafe alchemical charge in the thing, but given how poorly the Lich¡¯s attempts to graft better weapons to its claws had gone, such an experiment seemed unlikely to end well.

    It is not a creature, dead or alive, the Tenebroum reminded itself. It is a godling, the same as my twisted dryads or that cursed moon.

    It was easy to forget that, given that all it did was fight and kill and devour. The hound had a certain predatory intelligence, but nothing more than that. Were it not for the golden collar that it wore around its neck, it would be nothing but a berserk, slavering beast.

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    After months of study, the Lich eventually lost interest in its newest pet and left it to rampage in the Red Hills while it turned its attention to older projects; in time, when Tenebroum was sure the thing had stopped growing, it would send it to the front to fight with the rest of its minions, but it wanted no surprises.

    As it searched through its catalog of unfinished abominations, it found none, either. Its carefully pruned nature goddess no longer spent all of her time screaming and begging to die. Instead, she¡¯d decorated the small garden it had allowed her in that barren Constantenal courtyard with deadly nightshade and any number of other toxic herbs and flowers, humming away while the thorns that pierced her skin bled as they always did.

    She still cowered in its presence, but the Lich was certain that when she was set free, she¡¯d be happy to do as bidden and hunt down her former peers. However, for now, the Lich was content to watch her grow and change, studying her as the scars continued to fade, looking for any clues as to what she might become when she was complete and finally blossomed.

    It spent some time examining the new juggernauts that were being created in Constantinal and some of the new vessels that incorporated parts whales and sharks in lieu of wood in Rahkin, but eventually, the Lich found itself once again focused on its plot to undermine the All-Father again.

    Its poison was still spreading through the moon, and she was rarely seen in the sky as anything but a waxing or a waning crescent anymore. There had been some signs lately that she might manage to fight off the cancerous soul that had been injected into her, but each time she made progress and seemed to get brighter, a few weeks later, there would be a relapse, and she would lose all the progress she¡¯d made.

    The Lich didn¡¯t understand exactly what was happening, but it didn¡¯t care either. As long as she was weak and suffering, it could focus on trying to hunt down and break other gods, and for some time now, it had chosen the dwarf to deal with next.

    This wasn¡¯t because the All-Father was the most powerful or the most dangerous. It wasn¡¯t even because it had dared to lay a finger on the Lich in their single real encounter. It was simply because he was accessible.

    Once Tenebroum had decided that Krulm¡¯venor would not be useful in the war against the mages now that they¡¯d developed some way of nullifying the magics that animated the godling, Tenebroum had sent him into the depths to purge other dwarven cities with fire. This was for the death and the pain it provided Tenebroum as much as anything, but each conquest allowed it to steal away a few more dwarven relics, and that, it had decided, was the key to breaking the All-Father¡¯s soul.

    As a god, it was better known to the Lich thanks to the wealth of stolen source materials it had taken from the charred cities and tombs it had ransacked over the last several years. It was also simpler than the others it had tried to learn about. The secret that Krulm¡¯venor had tried to hide for so long when it had been in every book and mural: the All-Father was literally an amalgam of all the honored dwarven dead that had gone before.

    Though it did not yet fully understand why dwarves ossified as they aged, it was now very clear that when a dwarf finally could live no longer, its flesh would turn gray and shrivel into something like soft sandstone before falling to dust, leaving only the partially crystallized skeleton behind. It was the skulls that the dwarves were interested in when they buried the body, which meant that it was the skulls the Lich was interested in as well.

    It had constructed many abominations from the bones of dwarves at this point, which meant that its flesh crafters had dissected thousands of corpses, and these changes only seemed to start sometime around three hundred years old. The very oldest dwarves might reach three hundred and fifty years of age, but the exact age didn¡¯t seem to matter, only that they lived a life of honor and lasted until it was their time.

    For a while, the Lich had merely crushed the skulls to extract a lifetime¡¯s worth of essence, but recently, it had become more interested in a simple question: if the All-Father was a giant structure built brick by brick from the souls of the honored dead, then how many of those souls would the Lich have to corrupt or drive insane before the whole thing collapsed.

    On the face of things, the All-Father was an indomitable warrior who spent almost all of his time deep in his earthen fortress where no one could touch him. That wasn¡¯t true, though. The God¡¯s seat of power might be there, but in reality, he was spread across a hundred cities, and a thousand graveyards, and the Lich was determined to destroy as many of them as it had to before the God finally came apart at the seams.

    Of course, it was much too busy to do such things itself, but with a little effort, it had driven a handful of dwarven priests insane, and now they labored day and night in the Lich¡¯s warehouse of crystal skulls with forbidden runes that conflicted and warred with each other, carving them into the crystalline skulls one at a time. This was not an effort that would pay dividends tomorrow. It was like the erosion of water on stone. Each drip was imperceptible, but taken together, they could wear away a whole mountain range.

    When used to attack a god that had been around as long as the All-Father, that was certainly an apt metaphor. Tenebroum¡¯s slow but insidious efforts would break him, and then it would devour whatever pieces were left.

 Ch. 164 - Soon

    ¡°This is what I wanted to show you,¡± Jordan said finally, unwrapping the dirty cloth that covered the manacle that he¡¯d kept hidden for so long and showing it to Taz for the first time.

    The archmage didn¡¯t look at the cursed thing, though. Instead, he simply stared deeper into Jordan¡¯s eyes, searching for something. The silence lingered for almost a minute before the ageless man said, ¡°Why didn¡¯t you bring this to me earlier?¡±

    ¡°Because I wasn¡¯t sure I could trust you,¡± Jordan said, mostly truthfully. ¡°Not after¡­ well, you know¡­¡±

    The truth was that it wasn¡¯t the way that this man had ended Sister Anisse without a second thought. It was the way that he continued to sniff around and ask probing questions. Taz knew that Jordan was hiding something from him; he just didn¡¯t know it was the book. So, Jordan was offering him this as a gambit to try to muddy the waters. While he doubted the archmage would be happy to discover that an artifact of the Lich had been smuggled into his domain, he was certain that he would be much more upset if he found out that Jordan had been hiding a book that told the future all this time.

    Of course, it was also hard to trust Tazuranth, given the things the book had been hinting at lately. Jordan pushed those thoughts from his mind, though, as he met the other man¡¯s gaze, lest he somehow sniff out Jordan¡¯s stray thoughts.

    ¡°After all this time you still think I mean to hurt you?¡± Taz asked with a cold smile, pretending to be hurt. ¡°You¡¯re my apprentice, of a sort. I could never do that. Besides, now that the Collegium has fallen, you might be the last mage left on the continent beside me. When I ascend and beat back the darkness, I¡¯ll need you to refound the school for me.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ what?¡± Jordan gasped, his mind reeling. ¡°The Collegium fell? But how? I thought that it was holding up better than expected?¡±

    This was hardly the first time they¡¯d talked about the place. For a time, it had been flourishing, at least according to Taz. His divination spells had shown him a valley of lights, which had become a bastion against the darkness that had swept across the rest of the land, and now all that seemed to have reversed, and somehow, the ageless man didn¡¯t seem particularly upset by the news.

    ¡°It was,¡± Taz nodded, ¡°But the Lich unleashed some new weapon that undid the very rules of magic itself. Things fell apart rather quickly after that.¡±

    ¡°But that shouldn¡¯t be possible,¡± Jordan answered, uncertain if that was true but even more uncertain as to whether or not Taz cared very much about what he was saying. Jordan had certainly never been taught such a thing, but then, his education was far from complete. ¡°Is that what injured the moon, then?¡±

    Taz had reached down to pick up the corroded manacle. He was busy studying it, but as soon as Jordan spoke, his gaze lifted back up to meet Jordan¡¯s eyes. ¡°How do you know about that?¡±

    ¡°You can s-see that something has happened, even without your fancy telescope,¡± Jordan stammered, realizing he¡¯d tipped his hand a little too much. ¡°There hasn¡¯t been a full moon in over a month now, and there¡¯s a growing stain in the lower quarter.¡±

    In truth, it was barely more than a dark smudge through the naked eye, but he¡¯d seen much more detailed drawings in the book. Though all it would say is that ¡®the Lich struck a blow that could not be healed,¡¯ as it showed off the worm-like cancerous growths that were spreading on the moon, which was either the body of the goddess or the place where she lived, depending on which page of the book he read.

    ¡°It might be related,¡± Taz said finally. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say. She hasn¡¯t spoken to me since the incident. She may yet recover from it, or this might be the first sign that I¡¯m about to replace her. We should know soon in either case.¡±

    Soon was, of course, an impossible measurement when dealing with Tazuranth. He might mean a few months or a few decades from now, so Jordan simply ignored the statement.

    ¡°So what will you do then?¡± Jordan asked.

    ¡°I will be patient, as always. I will study this bauble you¡¯ve brought and see if we can find some way to turn it to our advantage, and I will learn what I can so we can be ready when the moment arises.¡±

    Some version of this was Taz¡¯s answer to almost everything, and Jordan fought to avoid rolling his eyes. It said exactly nothing, which was probably exactly what the ageless wizard meant to say.

    ¡°Do you think this will be useful to you?¡± Jordan said finally, gesturing toward the manacle, ¡°Or do you think we should destroy it before the Lich uses it to track us down?¡±

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    ¡°Through the barrier?¡± Taz laughed. ¡°If it can manage a spell that leads it past the edge of the world, I would be very impressed. No, it should be safe enough. It¡¯s a crude thing, but it certainly gives me some insight into the magic it prefers to use. This is a hentarctic formulation. Very basic stuff. It tells me that we might be misreading this situation altogether. Perhaps what we face is no mastery of sorcery but some other kind of aberration.¡±

    Tazuranth started an impromptu lecture and length then. Sometimes, when you wanted an answer the man would dodge and weave avoiding anything that might appear conclusive, but if your discussion happened to tread into magical theory, he might spend an hour, or even two discussion the minutia of ancient history, and the merit of different theoretical approaches.

    Jordan paid attention as best he could. At times, he would try to return the topic back to the fate of the Magica Collegium, but the most detailed answer that Jordan could get from Taz was that ¡°Scrying spells became unreliable several months ago and only recently started to work again.¡±

    Even that wasn¡¯t enough to hold Jordan¡¯s attention, though, and his attention began to wander, he stood up and wandered around the room instead. He still answered Taz¡¯s questions as best he could, and even tried to ask some semi intelligent follow-up questions where they were appropriate, as Jordan struggled to remember his ancient runic languages.

    Still, as he worked his way around the room, he noticed that the ancient mage¡¯s telescope was pointed down toward the beach and not up at the sky where it usually was. He didn¡¯t approach it directly, and he definitely didn¡¯t look through the eyepiece. That would have shown that he noticed. Instead, Jordan continued his slow loop around the room, looking at different odds and ends while he discussed the nature of binding rituals on unquiet spirits with the other mage.

    Still, when he was in the right spot, across from the wide picture window, he looked down and noted the part of the beach the telescope was pointed at. Jordan immediately recognized it as the place where the children held their practices and tourneys when the tide was low. Right now, the tide was high, so the sandy strip was almost completely underwater, but still, the fact that the man had been watching¡­ It was the first confirmation of some of the things the book had been hinting at for a while now.

    Jordan tried to push the thought from his mind, at least until he got back to the little farm he called home, but it distracted him until Taz had finally had enough of the conversation. Then the ageless wizard assigned him some light reading from three massive tomes about the nature of rune construction and then sent him on his way as the last sun was heading toward the horizon.

    Though the meeting had largely been boring, it had given Jordan much to think about. Really, he should have been obsessed with the school. If he¡¯d returned there as he¡¯d planned to do so often, he¡¯d be dead right now.

    Or maybe I would have managed to turn the tide somehow, he thought to himself. As if one more apprentice could have done anything useful.

    In the end, it wasn¡¯t the Collegium¡¯s fall, or even the moon¡¯s wound, that he thought about, though. It was the children. He spent the whole walk back worrying that what he¡¯d read was going to come to pass. It almost had to at this point. There was no way around it if Tazuranth was studying them discreetly from a distance. He really was going to use them in some sort of twisted experiment. Maybe not soon, but someday. The book had been very clear about that.

    In a place where time has little meaning, someday is forever, but someday, just the same, the mage that covets their light will try to find a way to take it for himself. Given that he is entirely undefeatable, such eventualities are unavoidable.

    However, the thoughts never left him, even when he came home to find the older children already cooking a fish stew. Still, he tried to keep the worried expression off his face for their sake. Instead, he listened to them as they told him about their day. They were a large and unruly tribe at this point, and he was likely to be the only parent they ever had.

    One by one, between different fights and bouts of bickering, each one of the twelve light-eyed children told him about their day, and he nodded, asking questions as he pretended to be interested and engaged. They¡¯d all spent the earliest part of the morning looking for a lost lamb once their drills had been done at dawn, of course. That was a devotion that never wavered, even if Brother Faerbar hadn¡¯t been around in more than a year now.

    After that, though, they¡¯d gone in half a dozen different directions to help the good people of Sanctuary and earn their keep. Toman and his brother had mended nets, Cynara and some of the other girls had helped the village¡¯s wise woman gather herbs that were just coming into bloom for the season, and Reggie and some of the other boys had helped to weed the fields. All in all, it was a productive day, and it might have sounded like a hundred others they¡¯d had since they¡¯d come to this strange place.

    Indeed, the weather was better than average here, and most days were cool and clear, so they really did start to blend together. In the end, as they all ate, everyone got the chance to tell their story. The only one who didn¡¯t say a word was young Leo. That was to be expected. He¡¯d talk if Jordan asked what he¡¯d done today, but there was no need to do so. The young man had almost certainly spent the day praying and training just like he always had.

    He was frighteningly intense for a boy of eleven. Technically, he was almost two years older than that now, but the boy didn¡¯t age beneath the barrier the same as everyone else, which made his focus and maturity all the stranger. Jordan had never planned on being a parent, and certainly not to twelve children, so he had no idea what to do about that sort of behavior; in the end, he resolved simply to ignore it in the face of larger issues, though he knew that wasn¡¯t healthy either.

 Ch. 165 - Sight Beyond Sight

    Leo roared as he beat back Jamin¡¯s wooden blade, trying and failing to move in for the kill. He couldn¡¯t, though. His opponent¡¯s shield was too large, and even though he was only a year older than Leo, his reach was too long. After a few tense moments filled with lightning-fast exchanges, Leo found himself on his back. He lay there in the soft, wet sand of the beach, breathing heavily, as a proper corpse should.

    Many of the other children got up when they¡¯d been defeated and left the battlefield to watch the rest of it play out, but not him. He wasn¡¯t going to move to the sidelines and use the light to heal his wounds in the same way that almost all of the other kids had learned to do by now.

    This was his shame, and he would suffer for it. Suffering would make him stronger.

    Other than the occasional lucky blow, he knew he was never going to win in this place, so he had to get used to it. He was the youngest and the smallest of their group, and here they had all been frozen in time, which meant that he would never have the growth spurt he needed to change that.

    It was incredibly frustrating, but he would not let that knowledge defeat him. Nothing will defeat me, he swore to himself. Yet, no matter how often he promised himself that, it changed nothing. He was still the runt of the litter, and even though he was the only one who spent all day pushing himself, he was the only one who lost every single morning.

    It might have been enough to make him cry, but he¡¯d run out of tears a long time ago, the day before Brother Faerbar had left them all. That was the day that the Templar had explained to Leo his dark origins.

    ¡°You are the son of a monster,¡± the old man had said simply after he¡¯d separated Leo from the other boys before he went off forever to die in his fight against the darkness. ¡°I¡¯d kill you myself if I was sure it was the right thing to do, but there¡¯s light in your heart, so as far as I¡¯m concerned, that¡¯s enough to give you a second chance, but never forget where you came from or how easy it is to fall. You might say you¡¯re predisposed to it.¡±

    Leo had asked a few questions about his father and received less than specific answers, though it seemed to him less like Brother Faerbar was trying to shield him from some terrible truth than that he¡¯d just forgotten many of the details over time. His father was a ¡°licentious wastrel of a Count¡± in the Templar¡¯s words. Leo wasn¡¯t quite sure what that meant, but he wasn¡¯t about to ask Jordan or anyone else for those definitions. It sounded bad, and that was what mattered. He took some solace in the fact that he was named after his grandfather, who was apparently a good but weak man.

    That was all the information that Leo needed, even if he didn¡¯t really understand what it all meant. He knew what he had to do, even at that young age. He had to be better than his father and stronger than his grandfather. That was what he devoted his life to now.

    So, when the fighting was done, and Cynara had won as she almost always did, he pulled himself to his feet. However, even as everyone else got ready to go help the villagers of Sanctuary with their chores, he retrieved his wooden sword. Then, beneath the judging eyes of everyone else, he got to work practicing his swing, his footwork, or whatever else it was he thought he needed to improve to finally start to beat some of the other younger kids on the field of battle.

    Though he was sometimes tempted to tell his friends that he was actually Count Leo, the fifth ruler of Greshen County, he opted not to do so for obvious reasons. Not only would that secret be told to everyone within a day, but it would just give the other children something else to make fun of him for, and they had quite enough to do that already. He was the smallest, the last picked, and the first to die.

    Some of the others were nice and never said anything mean to him. That was easy for people like Cynara because she was the biggest and the fastest now, and as long as time stayed stopped, she always would be. None of the boys would ever grow stronger than her here.

    Other people, like Toman, never failed to remind him that he was the youngest and the smallest. Some days, they called Leo the craziest, too, if they found him praying all day. It was regarded as universally foolish, and even sister Annise had tried to dissuade him before she disappeared. He¡¯d given up trying to defend the decision. Even if he had the words to explain himself, he didn¡¯t really know how.

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    It didn''t matter to him that the others didn¡¯t understand. Sometimes, Jenna or Sam would pray with him, but they were just trying to make him feel less alone. Their heart wasn¡¯t really in it.

    They couldn¡¯t feel the light inside them burning brighter when they said the words that the Templar had taught them. They couldn¡¯t hear the sound of some distant voice, with words just out of reach.

    Leo didn¡¯t tell anyone about that, not even Jordan. He already looked at Leo with more sadness than anyone else, and Leo didn¡¯t want to make the man think that he was going crazy. That was why he didn¡¯t tell anyone when he started to see things either because they were sure to think he¡¯d gone insane after that.

    About nine months after they arrived in Sanctuary, Leo¡¯s whole world started to bend. Even before Brother Faerbar left them, most of them could see good and evil, but this was different. First, he saw the shimmering outline of the barrier that surrounded the whole peninsula and the colored lights coming off of the tower most hours of the day.

    After that, he started to see other darker things. These weren¡¯t the typical shadows of evil. They were more like dark ghosts, and they were usually around Jordan or the things that the man owned, like the strange book he read every night. There was a sort of mist of shadows that surrounded that thing, and sometimes, if Leo looked at it for too long, he felt like it was looking back at him.

    It was an unsettling feeling, but Leo wasn¡¯t sure what he was supposed to do about it. So, he did his best never to be alone with the Book of Ways, and he threw himself that much harder into training because, after a while, it was the only thing that made him feel sane.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ever help us put food on the table,¡± Reggie complained one day as he pulled turnips while Leo swung his sword until he thought his arms were going to come off. ¡°Every night, you eat, but you never put the work in. It''s like you¡¯re too good for it.¡±

    In that moment, Leo almost told him that he was a noble and that he needn¡¯t work in the soil like the rest of them. That would have been a terrible mistake, though. So, instead, he simply said, ¡°We all need to do our part, but I have a higher calling. That¡¯s all.¡±

    That was a mistake, too. That was the day everyone started to make fun of him for his higher calling. It was upsetting, of course, because they couldn¡¯t understand the way he could, even if he explained it. They didn¡¯t see the light, and they didn¡¯t have a connection to the divine like he did, not anymore. They were blessed by Siddrim, but he could feel himself going beyond that, one day at a time now.

    Part of Leo felt sure he could walk right out of the barrier if he wanted to at this point, but he didn¡¯t try. Not only were they under strict orders from their guardian, Jordan, never to approach the boundary, but he feared what was on the other side of the line. There, the shadows ruled and drifted on the wind. If the barrier was what he needed to avoid such evil, then he would gladly shelter behind it like a kite shield.

    The day they started mocking him for being touched or being ¡®blinded by the light¡¯ was the day it all started to change. That was the day that his sight revealed to him something new: what his opponent was going to do next. At first, he thought they were just after images caused by the rage that was building up inside him. It was only after a particularly intense and violent flurry of blows left him standing above Jamin, who was bleeding on the sand beneath him, that he finally calmed.

    The battle was stopped then, and the other young boy was healed, but people looked at Leo differently after that. They teased him less and shunned him more.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be more careful,¡± Jenna chided him. ¡°Save your anger for the enemy. Someday, it will be here, just as Brother Faerbar said, and on that day, we must be ready.¡±

    He thought her words were unfair but said nothing because he wasn¡¯t sure what to say. They always gave it their all. People got hurt. It happened nearly every week and was usually seen as the fault of the person who had been injured, but for some reason, when he finally won a bout, suddenly it was his fault.

    That didn¡¯t stop him from suddenly winning more, though. He couldn¡¯t beat everyone, not even with his new trick, but suddenly, he could beat anyone who had less than a foot of advantage on him. Jamin, Sam, Rin, and anyone else who tried him suddenly found an implacable enemy that they had trouble landing a blow on.

    Several of them had developed new abilities beyond merely the ability to see evil or to heal with a touch. Cynara was able to make her weapons glow with holy light, Toman could detect lies, and Sam could bless an object and make it almost indestructible. As far as Leo knew, though, he was the only one who could glimpse the future and see what move his opponent was about to make.

    It felt like cheating, and he felt bad about that, but what was he to do? Simply pass on the advantage? He had no idea how it worked or how to turn it off. He thought about explaining it to Jordan at least but decided against it. The man had been an excellent guardian to all of them, but whatever he was reading in that book was making the darkness gather in his soul, and after several months without Sister Annise there, he found himself pulling away from the older man.

    It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t trust him exactly; it was that he didn¡¯t understand, and honestly, he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to. He wasn¡¯t going to see it, of course. He could see that many of the other children saw something as well, and slowly, the children of Sanctuary began to pull away from the adults.

 Ch. 166 - The Long Way Down

    It took some time for Oroza to figure out that she was dead. Not just dead, but in the afterlife, at least in a sense. It should have been obvious from the beginning, of course, as she stepped free from the shredded remains of dull scales and emaciated flesh on the shore and strode into paradise.

    From the sea, the island seemed like a tiny thing surrounded by strange, colorful plants made of stone just beneath the waves, but as she walked with the dark man into the interior, she found more. More of everything, really. More trees, more buildings, and many more people. Eventually, there were more people in this one spot than she¡¯d ever seen in her life, but it was only when she started to meet some of the women that she recognized as her followers from decades and decades ago that she finally understood.

    This was the eternal reward. It was the end of everything.

    ¡°Well, not everything,¡± the dark man corrected her. ¡°Souls stay here for a time, and when they are ready, they move on to the next stage to be reborn again.¡±

    He showed her a cave that people occasionally entered, leading down into the dark. No one forced them to leave paradise and walk into the darkness, and yet, sometimes, they did for reasons that Oroza could not explain.

    ¡°You will need to walk into the darkness soon,¡± he told her, ¡°Though not that way. There¡¯s no way back from this particular point.¡±

    ¡°Then why do people go?¡± she asked.

    ¡°For the same reason people die,¡± he answered with a shrug, ¡°It¡¯s their time.¡±

    That conversation led many places, but the place it returned to again and again was Death. ¡°If you¡¯re the god of death, then why are you here on an island and not out there, stopping all this?¡± she demanded. ¡°Evil has been unleashed, and you could do more than the goddess of a river or the god of a city could ever do!¡±

    ¡°I would have,¡± he nodded sadly. ¡°Alas, I have been dead for a long time, and I no longer leave this place than any of the other spirits that have been confined here.¡±

    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± she insisted. ¡°How can the God of Death die?¡±

    ¡°All things die, eventually,¡± he said, looking at her with eyes so deep and dark that eventually she was forced to turn away. ¡°As to how I would tell you to ask Siddrim, but sadly, he is not here. Sufficed to say, Death was one more evil he sought to eliminate from his perfect world, but he was only partially successful.¡±

    ¡°The world decided that death was something it would handle on its own, and for the most part, it does.¡± he continued with a shrug. ¡°If I sit here long enough, then all the dead of the world will come to me on the tide just as you did. It¡¯s only a matter of time.¡±

    Oroza didn¡¯t know what to say, so she sat down on a nearby boulder and stared off into the distance. This wasn¡¯t what she¡¯d expected at all. Here, there were so many people chatting and swimming or simply eating fruit that grew back almost instantly. It truly was paradise, but it wasn¡¯t what she¡¯d been looking for.

    She¡¯d been looking forward to when her grip on life relaxed, and she slipped down her river and into the sea to die. It was supposed to be oblivion that awaited her, but instead, Istiniss had forbidden such an outcome. However, if the god of Death was to be believed, then she would have washed up here one day, regardless of what she wanted. She¡¯d only found a more direct course.

    ¡°Well, if people can¡¯t leave, then why did you say I¡¯ll need to descend into the dark,¡± she asked finally, unwilling to complain about this outcome.

    ¡°Dead Gods and Goddesses are far more complicated than the average soul,¡± he said slowly like he was trying to decide how much to say. ¡°These things take time. Days. Months. Years. It depends on how long you lived, how much power you possessed, and how many worshipers still whisper your name. It took me decades before people forgot about me.¡±

    Orozoa tried and failed to remember his name, but she found she couldn¡¯t. She wondered how long it might be until she forgot her own name too.

    ¡°Regardless, at least as far as the prophecy Lunaris shared with me,¡± he continued, ¡°You still have time enough for three things.¡±

    ¡°Lunaris¡¯s prophecy?¡± Oroza asked. This wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d heard of it. ¡°What is it I¡¯m supposed to do exactly.¡±

    ¡°Not her prophecy,¡± Death corrected her. ¡°Just one that was shared with her. Magic and destiny are not the same things. Regardless, the words of fate say you will yet do three things: you will visit the forge, you will imbue the sword with light, and you will give it to the chosen one. After that, you may finally rest.¡±

    ¡°What if I just stay here?¡± she said, feeling suddenly obstinate. ¡°What if I just¡­ just stop and wait here for it to all be over?¡±

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    She knew she wouldn¡¯t do that, of course. If she had something she could do to strike back against the darkness that had taken so much for her, she would. Still, part of her wanted to. She was tired, and more than anything, part of her just wanted to lay down and sleep, even as rejuvenated as she was.

    ¡°You can try,¡± Death agreed, ¡°But the words of true prophecy are difficult to resist. I should know. I¡¯ve tried, but here we are.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what the forge is,¡± she sighed.

    ¡°Oh, that much is easy,¡± Death smiled, his dazzling smile. ¡°There is only one forge worthy of prophecy, and it sits at the very center of the earth where the All-Father pounds away night and day on his creations.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like a long way,¡± Oroza answered doubtfully.

    ¡°It is, though it takes less time than you¡¯d think, especially since it¡¯s so hard to get lost,¡± Death explained. ¡°Just listen for the pounding of his anvil, and you will not go away,¡±

    They talked a while after that, but it became increasingly clear to Oroza that she wasn¡¯t going to resist. Instead, she listened to the man as he explained to her where she must go. The cave at the center of the island wouldn¡¯t take her to where she needed. That place only leads to oblivion and rebirth.

    Instead, she had to don the skin and scales of her serpent form once more and wade back out into the sea. It was a jarring experience. Even though it felt like she¡¯d only just left the water earlier that day, it already felt like an alien environment. The water chilled her, and the salt choked her, and even as she began to swim toward the bottom of the sea, all she wanted to do was go back and lie down on that sunny beach.

    The crevice she¡¯d been directed to find in the ocean floor wasn¡¯t hard to find or navigate. All she had to do was swim ever deeper. It was only when she reached the bottom and had to search for the tunnel that things slowed down. It took her far too long to find the path forward, but once she did, she made good time again, descending ever deeper into the earth.

    Things only slowed down when the water ran out, and she was forced to walk rather than swim. Then, at least, she could hear the hammer blows. They led her the right way at every juncture, though she marked her way as she went because she suspected that she would have to come back this way when she was done. As much as she longed for oblivion to take her, being buried miles beneath the ground was hardly her idea of a perfect end.

    Oroza put one foot in front of the other until time lost all meaning. Had it been days or weeks? She simply couldn¡¯t say. She was surrounded by darkness and stone, and in all that time, the only sign of life she saw, other than the continuous sound of hammering, was a tiny creature made of stone that fled from her as soon as it saw her.

    The underworld was a strange place; it was a dark and endless desert that was only occasionally brightened by glowing crystals or luminescent fungus. Other than the Lich¡¯s lair, she had never seen a less hospitable place. She¡¯d actually never even imagined that such a place might exist, and it certainly went a long way to explaining the dour demeanor of the All-Father on the few occasions she¡¯d seen him.

    Still, she didn¡¯t understand him completely until she saw walked past the flowing magma rivers, and over the ancient granite bridges into his stone sanctuary at the center of the world. It was a sweltering, oppressive place that made her long for the cold dark tunnels, but she¡¯d come so far that there was no way she was going back empty handed.

    Oroza continued, moving forward, though, through ancient halls that were built for someone at least twice her height. There, she found the ghosts of dwarves, or perhaps the memories of them, running to and fro on nameless errands. They ignored her, though, just as she ignored the deafening sound of steel on steel until she finally found the All-Father.

    Though he was the god of the dwarves, he was a giant of a man at more than twice her height. He stood there at an anvil that must have weighed thousands of pounds, lit only by the orange glow of the incandescent metal. She had to approach within a dozen feet of the god before he finally stopped his endless hammering and said, ¡°So you are here at last.¡±

    ¡°At last?¡± she wondered aloud before realizing that Lunaris must have told the dwarf everything she¡¯d told Death.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she agreed. ¡°I¡¯ve come here as I was told to.¡±

    ¡°Well, then give me the metal, and I¡¯ll get to work on the cursed blade that the Moon Maiden wants so badly,¡± the All-Father said grumpily.

    ¡°Metal?¡± she asked, confused. ¡°I wasn¡¯t told I needed to¡ª¡±

    ¡°How in the blazes am I supposed to make a sword of singular sharpness without any metal?¡± the dwarven god yelled loud enough to make her tremble.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Oroza didn¡¯t know what to say.

    Was she supposed to apologize? Was she supposed to walk all the way back to the surface and ask Death for help getting the thing she needed? While she wondered about this, one of the scales that made up her fraying form fell to the ground, making a metallic clink as it hit the ground.

    She picked it up and studied the tarnished silver scale between two clawed fingers. Was this why I was the one to be included in this stupid prophecy? She wondered. Is this what he needs?

    ¡°Will this do?¡± she asked finally, reaching up to hand the small thing to the dwarven god.

    He studied it for a long moment before he said, ¡°Aye, this and another hundred or more just like it mixed with mithril might indeed do the trick.¡±

    The idea of plucking her few remaining scales off of her already threadbare form made her despair, but that sadness wasn¡¯t enough to stop her from doing just that. If this is what it would take to stop the Lich, then she would do all of this and more.

    Carefully, one at a time, she began to pull scales from her flesh. She started with the closest, but when those were all gone, it was like pulling teeth. Still, she bore the pain, and she she¡¯d finally reached a hundred she handed them all to the All-Father¡¯s ghostly helpers who immediately took them over to the forge to be melted down until the darkness and impurities were burned away and those pieces of her had been reduced to nothing but liquid silver.

    ¡°There we are,¡± the All-Father nodded, watching the metal that had once been part of who she was getting poured into a crucible to be alloyed with the Mithril that the forge god had spoken of earlier. ¡°With this, I can make you a blade that could strike down any god, living or dead. Mark my words. Now you just need to find a hero to wield it.¡±

 Ch. 167 - Ever Further

    As the months ground on, The Voice of Reason and her forces moved ever further north. They kept a good pace, but even so, they were never able to outrun the news of their approach and gain true surprise. Though there was a time when such an outcome would have been ideal, even if such things were impossible when one served a master as illustrious and powerful as she did, she would no longer have welcomed it now.

    Not only did that lack of surprise do nothing to aid their enemies, it undermined them. Every week, she continued to glide inexorably further up the coast, visiting every Sultan and Pasha that would receive her and crushing the few that would not. In every port she visited, the rumors of the black sailed ships ran before her like messengers announcing her arrival. They foretold the danger that any city or kingdom would face as soon as they sighted her on the horizon.

    The threat was very real now. However, it did not come from her tiny fleet. Instead, it emanated from the Dark Paragons that scoured the deserts in her wake, marching north with their growing armies. The message was an incredibly clear one: make a deal with her or deal with them. It wasn¡¯t hard for most people to decide the right answer to that question.

    The Lich¡¯s forces were an unstoppable wave of darkness now that was slowed only by the treacherous terrain they were forced to navigate. She had gotten only the briefest glimpse of their armies when they laid siege to Abbas, but what she was deadly enough.

    Other than the truly wealthy city-states like Tanda, these desert cities had only small walls of sandstone or adobe. They were just strong enough to look imposing and no more. They didn¡¯t need any more than that. Not when they relied on the desert as their primary form of defense. After all, how could a force of any size lay siege to your walls when there was nothing to drink and nowhere to hide from the sun? How would someone move siege equipment through endless soft sand?

    Wars this far north had apparently been decided with subterfuge and piracy more than large armies or even the lightning-fast cavalry that the lords of the region loved to use in their endless border skirmishes. When launched against the forces of the Lich, though, those proud princes and their expensive horses had a way of disappearing into the desert, never to return. The cities themselves did not fare much better.

    Though Tanda had all but surrendered without a shot at the apparent behest of a small god that had no wish to give the Lich an excuse to devour it, other cities had proven more truculent until the brutal fall of Abbas had given them a reason to take her unspoken threats more seriously.

    Of all the cities in the area, it was one of the most powerful. It had a small standing army, a few mages, and a proud Emir that would pay tribute to any man. On her brief, chilly visit, the Emir had made it known that ¡°Even if you think your lord to be a God, that changes nothing, for he is not our god.¡±

    She hadn¡¯t done much to attempt to change the man¡¯s mind. While some rulers could be reasoned with, and others could be convinced by discussing what other rulers had chosen to do, she knew immediately that even spending this much time with the Emir of Abbas had been a waste of time. He could not be brought to their side; he could only be killed and removed as an obstacle.

    Abbas¡¯s resistance lasted for a month, but only because it took that long for two of the three armies making their way north to get into position for a truly decisive strike. They would snipe at traffic on the trade routes and make whole mounted patrols vanish into dust, but they did nothing to attack the city itself until all was in readiness and they had moved up their lines to within a few hundred feet of the enemy¡¯s torches.

    It was only when everything was in readiness that they boiled up from the sand as one and attacked. Such a precise attack would have been impossible for living troops, but the Lich¡¯s deathless soldiers had no such limitations.

    As the Voice of Reason watched from just offshore, she¡¯d expected to see the green and orange fire of the Lich¡¯s alchemical explosions light up the night. Instead, all remained dark. Instead of wasting such powerful tools on such a pitiful target, huge grapnels were thrown by the largest of the abominations, and then whole sections of the fragile walls were pulled down by inhuman strength.

    Once they were breached, it was all but done. The defenders ran out into the dark to try to plug those gaps, but they had no idea what it was they faced. From everything that the Voice had heard, it was widely assumed that the very nature of the Lich¡¯s forces was assumed to be exaggerated. A place as sunny as the endless desert rarely dealt with the undead, so the idea that someone really might raise thousands of corpses and use them to crush you was seen as more than a little far-fetched. That night, they learned the truth, and not even the mages could save them.

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    Indeed, though their lightning did some good, most mages seemed to try a sort of sandstorm spell first, which was entirely ineffective against the dead. It was so powerful that it could turn the desert sands into a weapon that scourged flesh from bone and even made the sails of her ships flutter over a mile away, but in this case, the loss of flesh did nothing to stop a zombie from ripping you to pieces.

    Though the city was annihilated that night, something else happened that hadn¡¯t occurred in a very long time; the Paragons¡¯ forces left survivors. That wasn¡¯t an accident. No brave forces had managed to fight their way free of the noose. With less than five thousand zombies and abominations, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to crush every last spark of life in the city, but that¡¯s not what happened.

    For months, the Dreamer had done to seed how dangerous the Lich¡¯s forces were in the mind of these desert dwellers, seeing was believing, and the fear of the few men that would escape this night would spread like the plague, leaving tens of thousands in their wake begging to be saved from such a fate.

    The Voice of Reason¡¯s lips curled in a smile as she remembered watching how that spread from city to city and how much easier her job became after that. Though the Paragons had not wanted to spare even a single life thanks to their natural blood thirstiness, they had acknowledged that hers was the correct approach.

    As a result, most of the city-states and kingdoms she found as she worked her way up the coast were practically clamoring for her arrival. According to the Puppeteer, people were saying, ¡°The only way to avoid death is to make an agreement with the Dark Lady.¡±

    She smiled at that. Not only did she like the name, but she liked that hers was the only path to salvation for these fearful leaders. That let her impose ever more onerous terms of these places as they traveled north. Fearful rulers rarely did more than agree when they understood how precarious their positions truly were.

    At this point, all it took was one look at her death knight vanguard, and she could see the rumors play across their faces. Sometimes, she was fairly certain that if she¡¯d demanded their firstborn, they would have agreed. She didn¡¯t, though. She wasn¡¯t here to choose what would hurt these people the least but to reach agreements that would benefit her master the most.

    From the smaller, poorer communities, she still chose a tithe of flesh, paid for with both the dead and the living. The larger cities would pay this way too, though often at double or even triple the rate that Tanda had gotten away with so long ago, but now they paid in gold, too. In most cases, such as the cities Idrhim, Malwar, and the island of Golway, a talent a year was the agreed upon sum, over and above all tolls that were paid with blood and flesh.

    ¡°You serve me well,¡± the Lich told her, sending a fragment of its soul as a message delivered by one of its dark riders in an unarmed death¡¯s head. ¡°Even now, ships full of the damned travel down the poisoned Oroza to be delivered into my inner sanctum peace does us many favors but do not forget that if these petty allies betray us, the bulk of my forces will be cut off far from here. So, learn well the price of subservience, and ensure that we shatter all those who might one day become a danger.¡±

    Even if the message was a backhanded compliment and harsher than the praise she¡¯d hoped for, The Voice of Reason understood the Lich¡¯s concerns. She gave a full report about her reasons and the results they¡¯d achieved, hoping that the news of several shipments of gold would please her dark lord more than the earlier victories had.

    She also informed the Lich that the desert was supposed to taper off soon and that, in the event they were betrayed, they would simply poison every oasis that wasn¡¯t behind city walls. Once that had happened, they could build a route through the deep desert that simply could no longer be reached by living bearings and their mounts due to the distances involved.

    ¡°Based on everything we¡¯ve learned from the dead and the living, the Kingdom of Varenell lies less than a hundred miles to the north. By all accounts, it is nothing like these little desert kingdoms, and it had much more in common with Hallen¡¯s cohesion. So, I thought it best to save military resources where possible to focus on the conquest to come.¡± Even after she finished her full report, she waited until the dark rider left before she relaxed visibly.

    It was only when she was alone once more and entirely surrounded by the mindless automatons that had been loaned to her that she let worry cross her face. Had she done the right thing? She wondered, looking up at the blighted moon. Would her desire for domination via peaceful conquest come back to haunt her?

    Even if it did, it didn¡¯t matter on some level. She¡¯d been created to want these things. She could no more be bloodthirsty than the Dark Paragons could become wise pacifists. The Voice¡¯s gaze flicked down to her hands as she briefly recalled a moment that she¡¯d been more than a little bloodthirsty, but she put it out of her mind. That conniving princess had deserved everything she¡¯d gotten and more.

 Ch. 168 - Nothing Ever Happens

    Leo regarded the cake as he would an enemy while everyone else sang him happy birthday, but he tried not to let it show on his face. After all, despite their differences, the other children had gone to such efforts to make this, and even though they didn¡¯t see eye to eye most of the time, it was still a nice gesture.

    It was just too bad that the cake itself was pretty awful. It wasn¡¯t their fault, of course. There was no sugar here and little in the way of sweetness to be found in Sanctuary. He only had the dimmest memories of what sugar tasted like from when he was very young, but he knew that it wasn¡¯t carrot or cream. This cake was a mockery of sweetness, but he was determined to enjoy it all the same, if only because it meant that another year had passed.

    Still, when they finished, he blew out the candle and smiled, thanking them all for remembering. The truth was that he didn¡¯t even know if this was his birthday. It almost certainly wasn¡¯t. Half of them had been too young to remember that sort of thing when they¡¯d been rescued by Brother Farbaer and Jordan so long ago.

    Leo didn¡¯t even remember the boat they¡¯d been rescued on, but some of the older kids did. They¡¯d told him that one minute, they¡¯d been sailing north with a man called Markez. One second, they¡¯d been looking for a place that still had light somewhere upriver, and the next, the Templar had appeared carrying a child to battle a rotting dragon. It had apparently been a terrifying sight.

    The description had been thrilling, but Leo would never know why Brother Farbaer was carrying him that day in the same way that he¡¯d never know his birthday. One day last spring, someone had simply decided that everyone who didn¡¯t know their birthday should get one, so they set about picking one out for everyone and then marking them on a calendar they¡¯d carved into a nearby liveoak so they remembered to celebrate them when the time came.

    Not having a birthday had never been a concern of Leo''s. At least, not until they came to this ageless place. Now that he never got any older he was pleased to have one, so he could at least keep track of all the growing up he was losing out on.

    This candle theoretically made him what? Fourteen? How different was fourteen than eleven for the third time?

    He wasn¡¯t sure, but he imagined that given the choice, he would prefer to be aging. Maybe old men like Jordan were glad to stay the same age forever. As far as Leo was concerned, being thirty was already like living with one foot in the grave. He wanted to live, though, and when every day was the same, that bordered on the impossible.

    That was why they needed something to mark time. The harvests helped, but really, that was it. Each day was distinct, but given that the weather was never too hot now, and the magic protected them from ever being too cold, it was hard to say what time of year it was on any given day.

    So, they made their own holidays now, tracking the passage of time with birthdays and holy days to keep things moving in something that resembled a life. Slowly but surely, the shreds and pieces they knew about Siddrim¡¯s worship blended together and became a new sort of religion to them, and though they didn¡¯t share it with the adults, they enjoyed it.

    As he contemplated this, small slices of cake topped with whipped frosting were cut and handed out to everyone. Even Jordan woke up from his nap long enough to join them, though that put a damper on the mood as a whole. The conversations that followed weren¡¯t anything that they hadn¡¯t had a dozen times before, giving Leo all the time in the world to study the man.

    On the surface, he was still just as warm and helpful as he¡¯d always been, but the darkness that had spread through him like a cancer had practically taken his eyes now, and not even his polite questions or wide smile could convince most of the children to talk to him any longer than they had to.

    The part lingered longer than it might have because no one could say the things they really wanted to say until Jordan finally left to visit Tax in his tower, but that was normal, too. They were caught in an eternal loop so completely that even birthdays and made-up holidays were quickly taking on a strange inertia of their own.

    ¡°I Just feel like we''re living the same day over and over,¡± Sam sighed when Jordan was finally gone. He¡¯d said the same thing not so long ago, but he¡¯d been every bit as right then as he was now. Almost everyone agreed with that at this point.

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    Even Cynara confessed that she was tired of winning all the time. ¡°I¡¯d trade a hundred victories for an actual challenge,¡± she said dismissively. Rin and Tara weren¡¯t too happy to hear that since they were the ones she always beat, but even they were forced to agree on this. It was hard to get better when you could only fight the same people, and your body insisted on never growing up.

    The only one that didn¡¯t agree with that, of course, was Toman. Out of all of them, he was the only one whose world had changed. Well, him and Leo. They¡¯d swapped places. Now, instead of being strong compared to at least Leo, he was the weakest of all because he lost every bout the two of them had now.

    Everyone said it was because Leo worked hard and was getting better, but that was only because they didn¡¯t know he was cheating. They had no idea what he could see, and he was determined to keep it that way. Hell, he was determined to rise to the top, though he didn¡¯t really know if that was even possible. He was working through Will and Rin¡¯s fighting style now, and he even beat them sometimes, but even with his ability to see blows and parries coming, it only offset so much of the deficit he had in strength and reach. Everything else would have to be made up for by understanding his opponent and their weaknesses.

    Nothing different than normal happened for the rest of the day, and indeed, he expected nothing too different to happen in any of the days that followed. He didn¡¯t expect that would change next week or next month. Then, he was woken up in the middle of the night.

    It wasn¡¯t the first time it had happened, but the last time hadn¡¯t been since Jordan had told them of Sister Annise¡¯s departure, and the children had met to discuss the fact that they¡¯d been lied to. This time, as he woke to Jenna¡¯s face and a finger pressed against his lips, he wasn¡¯t sure what to expect. Instead, he got dressed as quietly as he could and then went outside to join everyone else at the tree where the group had these rare midnight talks.

    It was chilly but no worse than normal, and Leo wrapped himself tightly in his cloak before he sat down on the grass and waited for everyone else. He didn¡¯t have to wait long before Cynara was up and standing in front of them, with her pretty blonde hair visible even in the thin moonlight.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re all wondering what we¡¯re doing here,¡± she said finally. ¡°I¡¯ll come right out with it. I think we need to leave sooner rather than later, honestly?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± one boy cried out.

    ¡°What happened?¡± another boy said.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing new, of course,¡± she continued. ¡°There was no accident or emergency; it¡¯s just that every time I¡­ and many of you look at Jordan or the other mage he is with, I see a growing darkness. Brother Farbaer didn¡¯t trust mages, and frankly, I don¡¯t either. I think the sooner we are rid of them, the better.¡±

    What followed was a quiet but spirited debate. Most of them could see a growing darkness in the mage¡¯s soul, but even though some didn¡¯t, all of them argued about what exactly it was that it meant. Was it this place? Was it that book?

    ¡°What if he means to do us harm?¡± Toman cried out, clearly on the side of Cynara.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he means to hurt us,¡± she said, ¡°But tainting us with his shadows would be almost as bad. If what sister Annise said was true, then we are the last bearers of the Templar¡¯s light. We need to preserve that.¡±

    ¡°But how?¡± Reggie asked. ¡°There is only darkness beyond the veil that protects us. To leave is to die.¡±

    ¡°So they say,¡± Rin said, but it was without conviction. No one seriously doubted that the darkness had been defeated in the time they¡¯d been here. They¡¯d all felt Brother Farbaer¡¯s passing, and no one seriously thought that the darkness that was devouring the world could be defeated without him.

    After all, how could darkness ever be pushed back without light? Though he prayed that a new light had risen up in some far-off land, Leo, like everyone else he¡¯d talked to, had the sick certainty that they were in. They were twelve tiny flames that stood against the end of the world, and trapped as they were in a place where they could never grow up, they¡¯d probably never be strong enough to do so.

    In the end, they held a vote, but less than half of the children thought they should try to leave. Leo said almost nothing the entire time, and it was only when he was prodded to give an opinion after the vote that he said, ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if we try to escape or not because it¡¯s impossible. You need to be able to work with spells and magecraft, and all that we have is the light.¡±

    Neither the vote nor the words of her peers were enough to stop Cynara and those who agreed with her. They announced that they were going to try anyway, but by morning, Leo woke to find them once again in their own beds.

    He never doubted that outcome. While he secretly believed that he could escape this strange prison, he was also sure that no one else could. The light had started to brighten in a few of his friends; at least, he was pretty sure it had. It was normal to wax and wane, but the darkness of the world outside had only grown worse, and baring a sign from the gods or a visit from the ghost of the Templar, he knew that their place was not out there. They were sparks that might one day rekindle a fire or flickering candle flames at best, but they were not a bonfire, and they could not hold back the night.

 Ch. 169 - All Just a Game

    Taz moved the ivory bishop carved into the shape of a high priest of Siddrim across the board with thoughtless ease and took a pawn with it. The move had been expected by Jordan, but it was still a painful one and moved him solidly back to the defensive.

    The bishop had a distinct enough face that Jordan had long suspected that it, along with every other piece on the board, was meant to be someone specific, though he lacked the history to even begin to guess, and if he asked Taz, then he would only be assigned more reading in an endless search to find answers that weren¡¯t there.

    Jordan had no interested in being given any extra reading, with his eyes being in the state they were in. Instead, he removed the spectacles that Taz had found for him among his seemingly endless trove of objects and peculiarities that were tucked away in his tower and cleaned them while he considered the board and the situation they were in.

    It wasn¡¯t just the bishops, of course. Every piece on the board, white and black, was carved in such a detailed way that they were almost certainly modeled on someone. While the white pieces were hard to figure out, the black pieces were less so. White was carved in such a way that they were mortals, but black - they were obviously carved in the shape of the gods. The black king was Siddrim, and the black queen was Lunaris; that much was very clear. One of the rooks was probably the dwarven All-father and one of the knights was Niama, mistress of the wild places. The others were more difficult.

    He was fairly certain that one of the bishops that Taz had already taken was Istiniss, mistress of sea and storms, and that the pawns were various small gods, but even if Jordan had the eyes to study those fine details, he simply didn¡¯t study the gods closely enough to make educated guesses for each piece. He didn¡¯t need to, though. It was clear to him merely from the theme of the board that Taz considered him to be at war with the heavens on some level. That every friendly game of chess they played was another exercise in subjugating the divine was no surprise to Jordan after all this time.

    ¡°Ready to concede already?¡± Taz asked with a crooked smile.

    ¡°What? No,¡± Jordan answered quickly, as he reached forward and moved the All-Father out of danger while using it to put pressure on Taz¡¯s undefended knight. ¡°I was just considering my options.¡±

    It was a fine move, but it was a delaying tactic at best. Jordan was fairly sure that, just like most of the other games they played, he¡¯d already lost this one; he just didn¡¯t see how yet. That was ironic because even though he felt like he was always a step behind in these games, thanks to the book of Ways, he felt like he was a step ahead in every other way.

    He knew that the children were looking for a way out of sanctuary but that they wouldn¡¯t find one for a long time to come. He knew that Taz was looking to harvest their light, even if the man hadn¡¯t come right out and said it yet. Jordan even knew how it was he would stop him when that horrible day finally came. Not that he ever would have thought of it, of course. Not on his own.

    Such things were enough to make him wonder if the book was so much predicting the future as it was dictating those events into existence. After all, Jordan would never have dreamed that the Archmage¡¯s weakness was his strongest point, the spell that kept them all safe, but after reading through what he would do on the appointed day more than once, he could find no fault with the logic.

    Now, the hardest part was keeping the look of distaste off his face whenever he had to spend too much time with the man. It wasn¡¯t easy, but then, there was nothing else to do while they were all trapped here together besides learn and play games.

    ¡°Are you quite sure that the youngest one of your little group hasn¡¯t changed recently?¡± Taz asked as a series of exchanges were made, and the game inched toward checkmate. ¡°He hasn¡¯t done anything out of the ordinary recently?¡±

    ¡°Leo?¡± Jordan asked, pretending to think. ¡°No. He¡¯s still the same serious little boy he¡¯s always been. I think he¡¯s getting frustrated with being perpetually the smallest since none of us are getting older, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°And the light?¡± Taz interrupted. ¡°Have you not noticed the light intensifying? What do you suppose the cause of that is?¡±

    ¡°Intensifying?¡± Jordan feigned ignorance. The book had the same thing, but it wasn¡¯t anything that was visible to the naked eye, and since he knew Taz watched all of them, the last thing he wanted to do was cast a spell that might clarify things. ¡°His eyes are no brighter than any of the other children. In fact, I think that in terms of brightness, Toman and Rin might¡ª¡±

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    ¡°Check,¡± Taz interrupted before standing up and walking to his telescope. ¡°Come here. There¡¯s something I want you to see.¡±

    Jordan couldn¡¯t help but notice that the lens was already tilted down toward the beach, even if the Children would have finished their little tourney hours ago. Slowly, the Archmage pointed the long brass tube toward the village of Sanctuary and then moved aside. After he adjusted a couple of lenses, he said, ¡°Tell me, what do you see?¡±

    Jordan bent to the eyepiece and took a long look at the small town. He was still impressed how Taz could make objects hundreds of yards away seem like they were only a few feet away, but every book on optics that the man had shared with him had gone over his head. Jordan might have some talent with magic, but this was entirely beyond him.

    Still, he wasn¡¯t sure what he was supposed to see, though, and he just started listing what he saw. Old man, Marley was bringing in some produce from the fields with Cynara¡¯s help, the blacksmith was pounding away on something small, and a few people were sitting in the shade on the east side of the market talking.

    ¡°Nothing seems out of place, does it?¡± Jordan asked finally.

    ¡°Not with the lens,¡± Taz agreed before he pulled out the clear lens that had been at the focal point and replaced it with a smoked one that looked like the mage had mixed glass with obsidian or something. ¡°But now that you¡¯ve seen what you¡¯re looking at, try again with this.¡±

    Jordan looked down at the village square again. This time, everything was hazy but unchanged. It was like a pall had been cast over the town, which made sense considering how muddled the new lens was. He was about to say as much when he noticed Cynara walking back into view. That was when he saw the light around her. She was largely a featureless silhouette like everyone else, but the light that was normally confined to her eyes coruscated around her like an aura now.

    ¡°She¡¯s glowing,¡± he breathed.

    ¡°She is,¡± Taz agreed. ¡°They all are. Now, see if you can find little Leo.¡±

    ¡°But how will I be able to tell anyone apart with this lens. They¡ª¡± Jordan started to protest.

    Taz cut him off, though. ¡°You¡¯ll see. Trust me on this one.¡±

    As Jordan looked, Taz started lecturing him on the optical properties of alchemically treated glass, but Jordan wasn¡¯t really listening. Instead, he was panning around the village, looking through the fields and the beaches in search of all the children.

    They were not hard to find. Though he would have a hard time guessing who was who, each of them stood out like little stars against the darker world. Some of them shone brighter than others, and while some children glowed with a golden light, others were closer to silver or even white.

    Jordan almost gave up on his search and pulled away from the scope. It was only then that he found what he was looking for. This time, he didn¡¯t have to feign surprise. Leo had just come up the path from the beach, and as soon as he walked into view, he appeared like a pillar of flame.

    ¡°What in the¡­¡± he gasped. He didn¡¯t need to fake his surprise this time. The book had told him that the lad was growing stronger, but not like this, and Jordan was entirely taken aback by it.

    Some of the other children¡¯s glows had flickering flames at their edges, but they were nothing like this. Even if Jordan still had the perfect eyes he¡¯d been gifted until recently, he would have trouble seeing the outline of the boy amid the glow. As it was, he was a smear of darkness surrounded by a bonfire, and Jordan could only look for a moment before the light hurt his eyes, and he had to glance away. Still, that moment was enough to send his mind racing.

    ¡°See, I told you,¡± Taz said smugly as Jordan stood and backed away. ¡°The boy is changing. Trust me. I¡¯ve kept detailed logs of him and all the others. A year ago, he wasn¡¯t like that, and two years ago, he wasn¡¯t anything special. Now though¡­¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t tell me you intend to harm them,¡± Jordan protested. ¡°For heaven¡¯s sake, Tazuranth, they¡¯re kids.¡±

    ¡°No one is hurting anyone,¡± the mage assured Jordan, even though Jordan knew what the other man was planning and that he was lying through his teeth. ¡°This is merely a mystery I wish to explore. In the face of the darkness, the heavens have great need of such light, and if we could find a way to harvest it¡­¡±

    Jordan tuned out the lecture as he looked out the window with his naked eyes for the boy. After a minute of searching, he finally found the distant boy who appeared no different than ever, at least from here.

    Taz often ranted about the nature of stars and how they protected the world from outer darkness. According to him, the greatest threat to the world at large was not the darkness sweeping across it. It wasn¡¯t even the broken sun or the dimming moon: it was the state of the stars.

    According to him, they were fewer and number and dimmer than they¡¯d been in centuries. Jordan had no idea if that was true, but the idea of trying to harvest the children¡¯s light to use it to fix that problem seemed to be a fool''s errand, and the Book of Ways had already given Jordan some insight into how that experiment would end if it was allowed to proceed.

    For now, he pushed that out of his mind, though, and instead focused on staying calm as the Archmage talked about big ideas concerning light and constellations. While Jordan might agree that the devils of the void needed to be kept back, as far from the world as possible, he was not prepared to do so at the cost of his wards¡¯ lives.

 Ch. 170 - The Death of a Dream

    For more than two years, The Voice of Reason had pushed forward, practically unchallenged, since the earliest naval battles. She had seen a whole region fall to the Lich¡¯s command, with only a few battles to put the desert peoples in her place.

    Part of her had thought that this would be the new model going forward and that the dread armies, which only grew larger month after month thanks to the tithes that she¡¯d secured and the bloodstained flesh factories that had been built amidst the wastes and the endless dunes.

    For a time, she even let herself second-guess the Lich¡¯s original campaign. She knew deep down that if it had only built her earlier and used the dreamer for more than just mind games and communal torture, that they could have secured huge regions of devoted worshipers instead of the empty kingdoms that it ruled over now in the south.

    Those dreams were all ended by the Kingdom of Varenell, though. For months, she lingered at sea, not far from their border. At first, she sent scouts and spies. Later envoys followed, but all of these were rebuffed. After that came scouting parties and headhunters that brought back enough body parts for the Puppeteer to rummage through their memories and determine what they might try next. His words were anything but reassuring.

    ¡°They¡¯ve been warned about us,¡± he told her in the voice of one of the dead men he was currently playing with. ¡°Extensively, it would seem. To call them on their guard would be an understatement.¡±

    Indeed, the longer they lingered, the more they learned and the more bad news they had to deliver to their master so far away. This new kingdom had strength, both magically and physically. For generations, they had built a wall that would hold back not just the desert but the raiders that regularly came from it, and now those fortifications were paying dividends in stopping the march of the Dark Paragons and their fifty thousand undead abominations.

    There would be no peaceful conquest here, she decided, which saddened her, but that did not mean that she could give up entirely. To claim the desert was a victory, but to leave when she could have done more was unforgivable. She offered to use her forces to sink whatever fleets came from the north, but after a meeting with the generals, they decided to confiscate most of her martial resources and all of her death¡¯s heads instead, sending her back to the south with little more than a skeleton crew.

    ¡°The fleet existed to bypass the desert and explore the islands beyond them,¡± the Triumvirate told her in a message that had been spoken practically in a single place, ¡°That has been done now, and at least until we have gained a foothold, there is no longer room for peace.¡±

    This was disappointing to the Voice of Reason, but she did not dispute it. That wasn¡¯t because they were right, though. She wasn¡¯t sure that they were; it was because their decision absolved her of responsibility for whatever it was that was going to come after.

    The Lich¡¯s servants might not fight to the same degree as the courtiers and nobles of other mortal courts, but she at least could see the struggles of competition as different servants jockeyed for their dark master¡¯s favor. As far as the warriors were concerned, the Lich¡¯s ambassador had been given much too much time in the spotlight, and now they aimed to take their turn.

    While she thought that was premature, at least she could wash her hands of it. Even as they set up dungeons and looked for weak points in the fortifications, she sailed south. She had given the Lich the north, and whatever these generals did next would be on her. That was of some comfort as she made her long journey home.

    She didn¡¯t go back, though, not right away. Despite the Voice¡¯s confidence that she¡¯d done her best, the shadow of the Lich¡¯s judgment still frightened her. So, she took her time and stopped by every city-state and principality that had bent the knee to the darkness and reinforced her position there.

    Ostensibly, those visits were about intimidation, and she made a point to mention just how well the war was going and just how far north her armies had pressed. She enjoyed watching the way those strong men paled as she discussed the dead cities or the endless ranks of armored zombies that she¡¯d observed so recently, but it took several visits to realize that she enjoyed one thing even more than that.

    It was only when she returned to the island of Golway, and she was sipping a glass of blood amidst the Amir¡¯s inner circle when she realized she would miss the pomp and ritual of these occasions almost as much as she would miss everything else. She might even miss it more, she realized as she gazed out past the paper lanterns of the party and the glittering seaside city spread out half a dozen stories below the tower where they held a feast in her honor.

    She had no purpose in Blackwater or even in Rahkin. She knew that. They were dead cities. There, she would find no agreements to forge or terms to hammer out. She might visit some of the smaller kingdoms that had surrendered in the early stages of the war, but it would be nothing like this.

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    It was vanity, and it was selfish. She knew that. She even regretted it and wondered what her master would do to her when he saw it inside of her. It was that last thought that slowed her trip down even more.

    Up until now, she¡¯d been lingering to enjoy the strange journey for as long as she could, but now that she worried she could be tormented the way the Lich toyed with Krulm¡¯vanor or even broken down and stripped for parts if she was truly useless, she grew afraid, and her voyage slowed even further.

    She found a chain of islands that had been missed on the way up and spent two months touring from one end to the other and using the dreamer to put the fear into them. Before her arrival, they worshiped a volcano that was just powerful enough for her to be sure a small god dwelled within it because of the way that it smoked fitfully whenever she approached it.

    After she left, though, the inhabitants¡¯ ancestor shrines had been tainted, their dreams had been haunted, and she was sure that at least a few of them would continue to worship the golden skull even after she departed.

    Perhaps this will make up for some of my other misdeeds, she tried to tell herself as the smoldering island slowly disappeared in the wake of her black fleet. She wasn¡¯t hopeful, though. The Lich wasn¡¯t the type to forgive even the smallest of slights. It used the Skoeticnomikos for many things, but its most important function was to document each and every slight that had been made against it, as well as an appropriate punishment so that the Lich would be prepared to torment each and every one of its enemies as soon as their lives or their souls fell into its bony hands.

    It was a fate that, at this point, she could delay, but she doubted she could avoid it. So she sailed on, reliving her original journey in reverse, until eventually she arrived in Tanda, where it had all started so long ago. Back then, it had been a voyage of discovery, and she¡¯d sunk the first fleet to cross her path. No, no one opposed her because they knew with certainty what would happen to them.

    Instead, the welcome she received was very nearly a moonlight parade. Despite the unexpected timing of her appearance, they still managed for dozens of performers and hundreds of gleaming soldiers to escort her to the Sultan¡¯s palace, where she was feasted, her master was honored, and the vows of peace were renewed.

    Part of her wished that she still had the death knights and the other weapons of war to conquer this city and make it her own. She couldn¡¯t, of course, and she wouldn¡¯t have even if she had an overwhelming army. Still, the temptation was there. There was just something about being at the heart of power, surrounded by people who decided the fate of thousands, that felt right to her.

    It was only toward the end of the night when she was touring several beautiful mosaic-encrusted shrines on her way back to the harbor and to her vessel and admiring the tan and supple skin of the acolytes, that she finally met the small goddess of the city.

    ¡°This is Tanda Nihara,¡± the Voice of Reason¡¯s Guide said after a small bow. ¡°And she is¡ª¡±

    ¡°She is here to talk to the dead woman,¡± the goddess barked. ¡°Everyone, leave us.¡±

    She was a slight woman in ivory veils with skin that was every bit as lovely as those that served her, and judging by the reaction of her guide, her appearance was entirely unexpected and not part of the plan.

    After the men and women filed out of the room, and they were left only with the altar and the burning oil lamps, the goddess waved a hand, and the doors vanished. They did not simply blink out of existence. Instead, the mosaics shifted, sliding sideways until the blue and white tiles devoured them, leaving the four walls of the inner sanctum bare of any way to escape.

    ¡°Do you mean to obstruct a servant of the Lich?¡± the Voice asked with all the dignity she could muster.

    ¡°Why would I harm a puppet just to anger her master,¡± Tanda Nihara said crossly, with a heavy accent. ¡°You will be on your way in a few minutes. I wish only to offer you a warning. That is all.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± the Voice answered with a nod. Her suspicion had not abated, but then she doubted very much that she could harm the other goddess if she tried. She¡¯d heard about the Lich¡¯s encounter in Constantinal, and she was fairly certain that on their own turf, small gods of places like this were close to inviolable.

    ¡°Most of the city-states that you visited in your time amidst the kingdoms of Zum Jubar¡­ they seek to betray you and your lord as soon as the situation allows for it,¡± the goddess explained, obviously conflicted.

    ¡°I should think that is obvious,¡± the Voice said, ¡°The question is, why you are telling me this now?¡±

    ¡°Because if the Lich¡¯s wrath is roused and he scourges these lands like a haboob,  I do not wish to be caught up in its wrath. Send a plague if you must to eliminate the city, but leave it intact. I want no part of this. I know what it is capable of.¡± The goddess spoke like she hated both the Voice and the Lich, but that did not stop her from helping them.

    ¡°Why would the Lich spare you, even after you betray its servants and break its deals?¡± the Voice asked, skeptically.

    ¡°Because I already stopped this little revolt once,¡± she spat. ¡°The other cities wait for Tanda to give the word, and I have prevented the Pasha from doing anything so stupid for now,¡± Tanda Nihara answered wearily, ¡°But the day will come when he gets his way. Probably after your first real defeat against the northern kingdoms if I had to guess, and then, the pits of all the hells will vomit up their chaos onto the world.¡±

 Ch. 171 - Almost Done

    Oroza had no idea how long she waited there in that Stygian place. To her, that island had not seemed like the afterlife, but this was close to her version of hell. The heat radiated from the forges, making the dark air ripple, and the sound of hammering never ended. She didn¡¯t think it could take too long to make a sword, and indeed, it didn¡¯t.

    The All-Father¡¯s first attempt took perhaps a day or two from the time he poured the silvery metal into the mold until he had finished hammering, honing, and quenching the blade. However, each time he completed these steps, he found some small flaw that made him melt the thing back down to try again. Each time, it was something different: an asymmetry, a crack, or even a balance problem would be enough to scrap the project and start again, no matter what stage of work had been completed.

    That was part of the hell, too. Watching the futility of it all. Ghostly dwarven servants rushed around doing this and that and bringing the All-Father whatever he required, but inevitably, the giant man would mutter, ¡°No, no, no - this will never do,¡± and toss it back in the crucible to start all over again.

    More than anything, Oroza wanted to leave. He can keep my scales, she thought to herself. She couldn¡¯t, though. She didn¡¯t know why this was important, but it clearly was. So, no matter how miserable she was, she could hardly quit part-way through. Instead, she suffered in silence, glad that lingering at death''s door as she was, at least, that she felt neither hunger nor thirst.

    Still, as the weeks and perhaps even months dragged by, she watched the progress. Eventually, the blade forging process was refined, and the temperatures were adjusted until they were always perfect. The edge came faster; it was a gleaming rivulet of silver so sharp that it looked like it was practically made of liquid itself, which pleased her. The project looked to be on the verge of completion as a pommel and handle were attached. It was only when the time came to carve the runes into the flat of the blade.

    These at least did not need to be done multiple times, but they were done with all the care of a jeweler setting tiny stones into a delicate ring. So, the process seemed to take forever. In the end, their efforts were beautiful but completely illegible to her. The structure was a series of entangled rectilinear knots that had no meaning to her beyond the fact that they were identical on both sides of the blade.

    When that was done, Oroza worried they¡¯d spend another eternity inlaying jewels in the pommel or some other unnecessary step. The battle could be finished before he¡¯s forged a single blade, she thought bitterly. No wonder the Gods were defeated by that monster. They can¡¯t manage to work together on anything, but the Lich is of one mind on anything.

    Oroza said nothing to vent her frustrations, but only because it would have slowed down the process even more. Fortunately, aside from the runes, which seemed to be functional rather than merely decorative, the blade was a plain thing and the scabbard they gave her to hold it even more so. The dwarven god had spent forever on the unique, silvery metal of the blade, but the wire wound pommel and the scabbard had been done in only a few hours each. The result was that she was surprised when a ghost suddenly brought her the weapon wrapped in an oilcloth parcel and sealed in wax.

    ¡°The blade is finished,¡± the All-Father pronounced with finality. ¡°You may tell the lady Lunaris that I have done my part, as promised.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Oroza said, trying to remember which direction she¡¯d entered this strange room from after so long.

    ¡°But do not open it,¡± the god said, pointing his giant hammer at her. ¡°Not until you are on the moon. The metal is still too brittle, and it should not be exposed to the air until she infuses it with light.¡±

    Oroza didn¡¯t know what that meant or why it should matter. So, she didn¡¯t ask him about that. Instead, she thanked the All-Father for his hard work and then turned and started back the way she came.

    The walk back was another short eternity, and if she hadn¡¯t marked her way by scratching the walls at critical junctures, it was possible she might have gotten lost forever. Instead, once she reached the underwater tunnels, she transformed back into her threadbare river dragon form, and then, taking the small parcel gently in her mouth, she swam the rest of the way to the surface.

    From there, the way to the moon was long and well-known. She would have preferred to swim to it from the reflection of her own river, but the ocean would do. Unfortunately, since it was so dim, she had to circle anxiously just beneath the surface while she waited for the waning sliver to peek out from behind the clouds.

    Honestly, she couldn¡¯t remember the last time it had been bright now that she was thinking about it. Still, it wasn¡¯t until she swam deep enough into the sky that the clouds had passed her by and the moon was in full view that she even started to understand the problem.

    On every other trip into the sky, she¡¯d traveled toward a bright full moon that, except for a few craters and scars of ancient celestial battles, was a pure ivory orb hanging there in the sky. That was no longer the case.

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    Where once the moon had been covered by endless plains, now its shadowy surface seemed to be dominated by mountains. It was only when Oroza got close enough that she could just make out Lunaris¡¯ palace that she understood those were not mountains at all. Instead, they were some kind of ugly venous growth that reminded her of cancer more than anything. It was a new feature, and a particularly evil-looking one that couldn¡¯t be ignored as the tattered river dragon swam ever closer to the moon¡¯s surface.

    When did this happen? What could have done it? Oroza wondered. She wouldn¡¯t have to wonder for too long, though. If the Moon goddess was still alive, then Oroza could ask her again and soon.

    It turned out that Lunaris was, in fact, where she often sat in the albino gardens of her miniature palace. The terrible monstrosity that was devouring the moon had undermined and collapsed the coliseum that Oroza had visited several times before, but it had not reached this place or disturbed its peace.

    ¡°So you¡¯ve come at last then,¡± the pale woman said with a wan smile as Oroza entered her field of view. She had seen better days. She looked as thin and frail as Oroza had been before she swam out to see to die.

    ¡°My lady¡­ what happened to you?¡± Oroza asked. The only response she received, though, was for Oroza to pat a spot on the white grass beside her.

    ¡°Mortality comes for us all,¡± the Mood Goddess said cryptically. ¡°It is only the immortals that it surprises. You should know. You¡¯ve died rather recently yourself.¡±

    ¡°It was my time,¡± Oroza said, surprised to find she felt at peace with it. ¡°But you¡­ without Siddrim, the world needs you more than ever. How could this have happened?¡±

    ¡°A glancing blow that digs deeper every day,¡± Lunaris sighed. ¡°The darkness poisons everything it touches. That is all you need to know. Do not worry for me, child. I have already picked a successor, and when the time comes and the moon finally crumbles to dust, something new will rise in its place.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡± Oroza protested.

    ¡°It is just not my time yet,¡± the Moon Goddess said dismissively. ¡°I have things I must do yet, like guard against the outer darkness and give your blade the last of my light.¡±

    ¡°Lunaris, please,¡± the River Goddess said, casting the oilcloth bundle aside. ¡°You must save your strength.¡±

    The older woman smiled, gesturing broadly at the dark sky. ¡°I cannot save what I do not have. My strength has been spent long ago. Now, all I can do is hold on a little longer.¡±

    Oroza looked up. This wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d beheld the stars from such a distance. Here, she could see the web of warding lines that stretched between each star in a given constellation. From the ground far below, the stars appeared to twinkle, but here she could see that they were writhing or perhaps fighting. The lights were vaguely inhuman shapes, but with the moon so dim, for the first time, it was possible to see what it was they were fighting against.

    The River Goddess¡¯s mind balked for a moment as she tried to take it all in. Past the invisible lines of magic that held the stars in their places, defending the world, there was a writhing and undifferentiated mass of shadowy forms. It was somewhere between an army at the gates and an aquatic organism attempting to devour the stars.

    It was something Lunaris had known for a long time, though she¡¯d never really given it much thought until the rise of the Lich. The Lord of Light existed to purge the evil that developed in the world, but Lunaris¡¯s place had never been to protect them from the night, at least not against mundane threats. It had been to protect the world from the night. From the endless mass of darkness that existed everywhere, the flames of Siddrim¡¯s horses did not touch. There was no way she could do Siddrim¡¯s job as well as her own.

    Oroza¡¯s thoughts were interrupted when Lunaris put her hand on the River Goddess¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Do you know why there are fewer stars than there used to be?¡± the Moon Goddess asked.

    ¡°I¡­ didn''t realize there were,¡± Oroza said truthfully, making Lunaris nod sadly.

    ¡°It¡¯s because of Siddrim¡¯s jealousy and vanity,¡± the Moon Goddess said with a shake of her head. ¡°He would brook no rivals. Not for the last century, at least, since he purged the last of the dark gods. Before that time, though. Heroes¡­ rare heroes at least would have souls that burned with light, and when they died¡­ well, instead of descending into the underworld to be reborn, I¡¯d place them where they would do the most good so they could fight on.¡±

    ¡°And Siddrim didn¡¯t like that?¡± Oroza asked, confused. She had no idea why the Lord of Light wouldn¡¯t want more lights in the sky.

    ¡°He would not release those souls. Instead, he devoured them to burn ever brighter,¡± Lunaris explained. ¡°But now that he is gone, those sparks are mine again, at least, to do what I will with them.¡±

    As the Moon Goddess spoke, a ball of light materialized in her hand. ¡°This one was called Farbaer, and he was a very brave young man. Given a bit of time, he might have become the next Lord of Light himself, but no mortal can stand against the Lich.¡±

    ¡°Lunaris, please,¡± Oroza said, not caring about whom the light was or his history. The name meant nothing to her. ¡°You need that. Use it to purge your own darkness, or¡ª¡±

    She ignored Oroza and instead reached for the blade, leaving the light to flicker in midair like a stranded will-o-wisp. When she opened the seal, unwrapped the blade, and drew it from the scabbard, the thing gleamed like a mirror, but that was only for a moment. Once that was done, the light darted to it, and the whole thing glowed with a brilliant white light that faded after a moment, leaving only the runes behind to glow dully.

    ¡°Do you know what this is?¡± the Moon Goddess asked finally.

    ¡°A weapon to use against the darkness?¡± Oroza guessed.

    ¡°No,¡± Lunaris answered with a shake of her head. ¡°It is destiny, sharpened to a fine point. Whatever evil is pierced by this shall be struck down and shall never rise again.¡±

 Ch. 172 - The Ashes of Civilization

    Krulm¡¯venor could no longer remember how many fortresses, mining settlements, and cities he¡¯d sacked. However, the fact that he now traveled as a small band of himself most of the time instead of as a singular entity was enough to make him at least as much goblin as dwarf. That made thinking harder, but even if it hadn¡¯t, he¡¯d been down here so long that all of those conquests made everything blur together after a while.

    Not thinking was preferable to the alternative, though. Krulm¡¯venor had not been able to drink a good dark ale or a bright golden wheat beer in ages. The closest he¡¯d come was the smell of them burning as he and his many copies had burned down countless taverns and breweries. Still, the faint fuzziness as his mind started to slip away from being divided so many times was the most comparable sensation he¡¯d yet discovered.

    The fire godling had figured out many months ago that if he simply existed as five or six of himself all the time, his cares and suffering would be just far enough away that they wouldn¡¯t bother him too much. The Lich had not yet figured that out, but it no doubt would one day. Until then, even if he had to deal with the random mutterings and outbursts of his copies, it was worth it. After all, drinking was nothing if not the excuse to feel like this while you were surrounded by idiots anyway.

    So, he and the shards of himself walked ever on, almost at random, in the depths, looking for new things to destroy. The Lich had released any number of wraiths down here to map the tunnels and find everything worth snuffing out or burning alive, so Krulm would receive frequent messages in the form of whispered words from the dark, but he had no talent for the arcane or the necromantic, so it wasn¡¯t always possible to determine what it was the things were trying to tell him.

    Still, as long as he kept moving, the cursed bones that bound him slumbered, and the Lich largely left him, and all his other copies, alone to suffer in the dark. It had bigger issues to worry about, not that it had conquered half the world.

    If Krulm¡¯venor was braver, then he would have asked the Lich why it even needed to keep fighting this war so far from anywhere. Dwarves were never a numerous people, even before the fighting had started. These days, he purged more goblin caves and kobold lairs than dwarven outposts.

    The fire godling said nothing, though. He knew the answer already. Inside every dwarven settlement were things the Lich craved, even beyond the blood of the living and bodies capable of being reanimated. The monster that owned it body and soul was forever in need of more gold, silver, and steel to create new abominations. Even more, it forced Krulm¡¯venor to sack every tomb and shrine in search of more mithril and adamantine.

    Even the bones of the honored dead were not safe. He did not know what the Lich planned to do with them, but he was sure it was nothing good. Krulm¡¯venor regretted giving those up to his master wherever they were found, even more than murdering a city full of dwarves trying to live their lives. New families could be created, but a hero of old was a work of singular life well lived, and once the Lich stole it away through its dark portals, it was gone forever.

    Today, it wasn¡¯t a shrine they were moving toward, at least. Today, they were too shallow for that. By his reckoning, they were only a couple hundred feet below the surface. He and his noisy copies had spent the last few days burning out goblin warren after goblin warren.

    Yesterday, they''d found a luminescent mushroom forest that might have been a dwarvish plantation before it had gone wild. They¡¯d left all of those caves as nothing but ashes, of course, but the trend was toward civilization. When they found the vent shafts for the coal mine, he was only surprised that dwarves were still working on them.

    ¡°Feed us!¡± the spirits clamored in his soul, but Krulm¡¯venor suppressed them.

    In fact, he pulled all of his duplicates back together. That wasn¡¯t for the clarity, though. It was because if he was careful, he could destroy the place without killing many besides perhaps himself.

    Krulm¡¯venor was always on the lookout for two things: ways to keep his master happy and ways to end his miserable existence in a way that didn¡¯t trigger the agonies that the Lich had layered throughout his body to ensure his obedience.

    Last year, most of his copies had gotten caught in an underground landslide, but enough had survived for him to be reconstituted, and more vessels for his guttering soul had been built. Several months later, he¡¯d been swallowed whole by a giant purple boring worm. Krulm had hoped that the thing¡¯s acids would have been enough to melt down its body for scrap and release his suffering soul. Instead, its flames had eventually killed the creature, and he¡¯d ripped his way out of its belly to find his metal skeleton polished to a fine silvered sheen.

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    Nothing, it would seem, was enough to defeat the Lich¡¯s craftsmanship, which had only grown better now that it harvest the souls of dwarves to work its forges instead of random drudges. If anything was going to do it, though, a mine shaft that led to a warren of mines following a coal seam might be enough to do the trick. He hoped it would, at least, because short of finding the All-Father or one of his sacred champions and being smote from existence by a blessed forge hammer, he was unlikely to ever find an end to this awful existence.

    That didn¡¯t stop Krulm¡¯venor from leaping into the hole and bursting into flames as he fell toward the unsuspecting miners thirty feet below him. They barely had time to look up before he and the wall of fire trailing behind him reached them. They¡¯d done everything right. They¡¯d watered the walls to avoid explosions, and they were using bronze picks and shovels to prevent sparks. No amount of safety precautions could do much to stop a burning skeleton, though.

    Despite his sudden appearance, the fire godling was surprised that some of the dwarves managed to escape the death trap it created. It wouldn¡¯t chase them, though.l Even if they were shouting in alarm, trying to warn their fellows now, their lungs would be cooking from the hor air soon enough.

    Instead, Krulm¡¯venor watched the orange flames that had started this show gutter and fade as the blue flames replaced them. These weren¡¯t the blue flames of its unfire, but they did look very similar. They were the oxygen-starved methane flames leaking off the coal as all the air was sucked out of the room.

    That wouldn¡¯t last long, of course. Even how it could feel the increasing wind as the chimney effect took hold. Soon this whole mine would be a blast furnace, desperately sucking in air, only to convert that air into more fire, repeating the vicious cycle.

    He walked slowly, ignoring both the growing heat as well as the gibbering voices in his mind begging to release. Instead, he focused on the destruction all around him as he walked as slowly as possible toward the entrance.

    Along the way, the fire godling found a few charred bodies and other dwarves who had given in to smoke inhalation but had not yet burst into flames. He ignored all of those and continued on. The flames had long since outrun him, and though more than anything, he wanted to stay standing where he was, the smoldering timbers were just enough for the angry spirits that were always watching him to demand he keep moving.

    He did, but as he did so, he felt something he hadn¡¯t felt in a long time, at least as a single entity. During the razing of every city, he felt the terrible, primitive joy of a goblin tribe running roughshod over their enemies, but it wasn¡¯t the same as this.

    It took him some time to figure out just what it was, but it wasn¡¯t enough until he could see the exit and the small stone town that lay in the cavern beyond that he finally understood. It was the fire.

    It had been a long time since Krulm¡¯venor had experienced enough heat to make him feel true exaltation, and even at the height of his powers, he¡¯d never experienced a fire like this. The mine had become exactly the blast furnace that he hoped it would be. The air roared into the mouth of the cave, sending waves of orange fires along the walls and ceiling. They almost reached him, too, before turning the blue color that saturated the rest of the mine.

    It was so much heat that it was reaching through the cold steel barrier that the Lich had bound him in. For the first time in years and years, that heat actually reached him and warmed his soul. It wasn¡¯t hard to see why. His entire skeletal body had taken on a dull red glow. He was so warm that his body¡¯s temper was damaged; if any dwarf could withstand such terrible conditions, they might even be able to strike him down in this weakened state.

    The tribe of nearly a hundred copies of himself squired and writhed inside of him, demanding to be free, but he ignored them. Instead, he basked in the warm glow of a sensation that had been gone so long he¡¯d forgotten what it felt like.

    As he stood there like this, it was almost enough that he could believe he was still back there in Fallravea, feasting on the goblin slaughter, or even before that, feeling the power of the forges as the dwarves hammer steel beneath his¡­

    The sound of the collapse somewhere behind him wasn¡¯t enough to shake the godling free of his reverie. Neither was the tumbling stone. However, the stone blocked the smooth flow of the air, instantly killing the blast furnace he was enjoying so much and reducing the entire thing to an ordinary inferno.

    It was disappointing, but no good thing could last forever, certainly not in his torturous existence. Even though the fire godling was still hundreds of degrees, it could already feel itself glowing colder as the ephemeral heat left it as what had been for so long: a dead soul trapped in a lantern of unflame shaped like a skull.

    This sad thought was enough to finally make him feel real self-pity, and as he walked out of the coal mine and passed the large stacks of coal that had no doubt been meant for export to some nearby city, he began to unleash the horde inside him.

    As Krulm¡¯venor reflected on how none of this would ever reach its destination, he started to fission, becoming two, then four, then eight twisted metal skeletons instead of the one that was there only a moment before. He wasn¡¯t looking to let all the demons out. He didn¡¯t want to cease to exist, as his doppelg?ngers began to rush toward the frightened townspeople who were clustered under glow stones under the far end of the street, trying to understand what had happened. He just wanted to take the edge off, and for that, a little slaughter was exactly what the doctor ordered.

 Ch. 173 - Waiting Forever

    The city they found after the coal mine was called Nel-Bartov, and though Krulm¡¯venor had never been there in life, he had heard of it, even from so far away. It had been famed for the river of crystal that cut the city in half like a cracked geode on a truly massive scale.

    It had been described as a work of art or a sort of natural cathedral, and dwarves had labored for lifetimes to cut and polish those giant crystals so that every ray of light that touched them rebounded through a dozen rainbows before fading away.

    As a whole, the sight was said to be quite lovely and one of the true wonders of the dwarven world. Now, it was just a slaughterhouse, and that crystal channel was nothing but a colossal gutter for the blood of so many dead dwarves in the aftermath of his brutal assault.

    That city wasn¡¯t the only one either, of course, it was just the one that happened to be next. Cities were getting larger and closer together in this area. Krulm¡¯venor knew why, of course, though he never said so out loud. It was because he was getting close to the capital of the entire underrealm: Forgeholm.

    The fire godling wasn¡¯t quite sure whether he was attempting to shield the place by hoping they didn¡¯t find it or hoping that he would stumble across it before the Lich had a chance to prepare an appropriate stratagem and be crushed into so much smoldering scrap by the Iron City and their formidable armies.

    It was the armies he discovered first, quite by accident. They first found a squad of red helmed defenders in the byway of Grigen-dol. It was nowhere special. It was just three dozen buildings carved along the wide part of a tunnel where two important paths of the underway met.

    Krulm¡¯venor had confused them for being the town watch, but he quickly learned his mistake. They fought much too fiercely and in a well-coordinated fashion for that. Even when he became forty and then eighty to outnumber them, they did not break or even show real fear. Instead, the thirty dwarves fought to the last with their shields held high and their banners raised, even as he set them alight.

    That battle, fierce as it was, wasn¡¯t enough to attract the Lich¡¯s baleful eye. It took more and more to do that these days. Instead, it did not press itself into Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s mind until he found a unit of more than fifty dwarves out on patrol. Though that might happen anywhere in the under ways, he knew that it was really only likely near a city as large as Forgeholm.

    The group marched in formation, five dwarves wide and at least ten ranks deep. It would be a formidable foe to face, even with fire and ferocity on his side. He could see the design of their tower shields and the way they were built to lock together. That wasn¡¯t enough to deter Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s attack, though. At least not until he felt the Lich¡¯s chill spread through him.

    ¡°What is it you¡¯ve stumbled upon now?¡± the Lich asked in the cold, dry voice that the godling had learned to hate and dread.

    ¡°A small army out on patrol,¡± the dwarf answered honestly. ¡°It is likely from a larger city.¡±

    ¡°The Iron City?¡± the Lich asked, penetrating directly to the core of the matter. For a moment, Krulm¡¯venor wasn¡¯t sure how it had done that, but then it realized that with all the dwarven souls it had devoured at this point, there was very little that the monster probably didn¡¯t know.

    ¡°It¡¯s very likely,¡± Krulm¡¯venor admitted, ¡°Though I have heard no word nor seen a sign, it is supposed to lay somewhere in this direction.¡±

    ¡°Then find it, but do not engage,¡± the Lich commanded. ¡°Such a place will be impossible for a lowly worm like you to crack alone.¡±

    ¡°You are sending me reinforcements then?¡± the fire godling asked, disgusted at what new horror it might have to put up with.

    It had seen the Devourer and other inhuman monstrosities that the Lich had created in recent years, and being close to something like that would be even worse than dealing with the hundreds of goblins that had already burrowed their way into his soul. As foul as they were, at least they were creatures that dwelled in the natural world.

    ¡°No, not immediately, at any rate,¡± the Lich said, studying the distant dwarves marching through the far cavern through his dead, flickering eyes. ¡°Plans are already in motion, and until they are ready, they are nothing you need to concern yourself with. Simply learn what you can and stay out of sight until all is readiness. Only then can you strike the deathblow against the empire below.¡±

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    Krulm¡¯venor didn¡¯t like the sound of that, but he also had no desire to ask any further questions. Instead, he simply nodded, and then, the Lich faded from his mind, leaving him with the sound of distant tromping boots and rattling plate mail echoing through the caverns ahead.

    The Lich might have intended to be harsh, but it dawned on Krulm¡¯venor as he stood there that he felt something he hadn¡¯t felt in almost as long as he hadn¡¯t felt real warmth. He no longer felt the need to march and kill in an endless spiral to stay one step ahead of the vengeful spirits that dwelled where his bone marrow should have been.

    It wasn¡¯t quiet peace, thanks to the tribe of green skins in his soul, but it was something, and he stood there long after the patrol had left, glorying in his ability to do nothing at all. It was only when the darkness and silence were once more absolute that he continued on.

    This time, the skeletal fire godling moved forward, looking to avoid trouble instead of causing it. It was a strange sensation. Until now, for years, since long before the siege of Rahkin, or even before that when he¡¯d sacked Hugelden or Siddrimar, he¡¯d constantly acted with a spear against his back. ¡®Move forward or face the consequences.¡¯

    It wasn¡¯t even an unsaid threat. His very bones were itching to torture him.

    Now, suddenly, he could do what he wanted as long as he could ignore the gibbering voices of the creatures that lived in his head. Now, he could walk slower and appreciate the subtle signs of dwarven society, from the well-trod stone paths to the subtle graffiti he spied along the most common thoroughfares as he got closer to the city.

    Of course, the closer he got, the harder it was to stay hidden. There were smaller outlying communities and, along some routes, significant traffic. There were more guards than usual, too, but that was his fault. He¡¯d spent years down here ravaging the world in every direction, and since there were never any witnesses left behind, it was impossible to say what the dwarves believed was happening.

    Krulm¡¯venor found it unlikely the All-Father didn¡¯t know, but then, he¡¯d never been a religious scholar. Perhaps that was why the Lich no longer wanted him to kill where it could be avoided. Perhaps that was how the god might catch his scent if he wasn''t careful.

    In the end, it didn¡¯t matter. If he moved slowly and carefully, there was almost always a way to avoid killing the dwarves that crossed his path. Even when they caught a glimpse of the blue fire burning in his eyes, he could simply move deeper into the darkness and wait for the dwarves to move on.

    There was only one case in the weeks that followed where he was forced to kill anyone at all. He¡¯d come around the corner at the same time as an older dwarf leading a long mule train. Thinking quickly, before the man could scream, Krulm¡¯venor snapped his neck, letting him fall dead on the ground. He could have simply left the graybeard there.

    It would have been a strange death, but nothing that pointed to him directly. In the end, he decided to let the howling mob within him out to rip both the corpse and his pack animals to shreds, though. This was both because it would be viewed less suspiciously as a random goblin attack, which the metal jaws of his minions would perfectly replicate, and because they¡¯d been caged in his mind for so long that they were howling out of control at that one death, and he no longer felt like fighting them.

    He couldn¡¯t. This was who he was now.

    He didn¡¯t join them, though. Even as half a dozen metal goblin skeletons killed and screamed in delight like any tribe of goblins would, he picked through the wreckage that had once been this peddler''s life, examining artifacts that reminded Krulm¡¯venor of a home so far away that he no longer remembered it.

    He examined the man¡¯s short sword, which was oiled heavily enough that he was sure it hadn¡¯t been used in quite some time but sharpened down enough that it had obviously seen hard use over the course of its life. All the man¡¯s possessions told a similar tale. The cloak had been expensive once but was now threadbare, the boots had been resoled more than once, and the buttons, well¡­

    Krulm¡¯venor had spent what felt like half a lifetime shredding and burning dwarven cities as punishment for all of his failures as a god and man, but during those activities, he was a force of nature, and when he was done, there was nothing left behind but ashes. Here, though, right now, as he sat there amidst the blood at the gore that his doppelg?ngers were causing, all he could do was study that small brass button, admiring the details and its perfect symmetry.

    It wasn¡¯t particularly fancy, and though it was stamped with the crest of a dwarven clan, he didn¡¯t recognize it. That didn¡¯t matter, though. What mattered was that it had done its job. It might have done it for decades or even centuries. There was really no way to know. It was polished, though, and clean save for a single drop of blood. It was what he should have been before he walked down the long, dark road that led him here.

    Krulm¡¯venor mourned what could have been and held that button tightly even as he disbanded his tribe and started walking away again. He still had to figure out exactly where the Iron City was and where its gates and defenses were located specifically. After that, he could lie low and do what he wanted with his own time for once.

    He could spend his time planning the best way to attack or trying to figure out what it was that his dark master was up to. He could even sit there and listen to the voices in his head babble until he went completely insane. What he couldn¡¯t do, though, was let go of that damn button or stop thinking about all that it symbolized in his savage, miserable life.

 Ch. 174 - Return to Nature

    She spread like a noxious weed once the Lich released her from the dark garden in that dead city. She hadn¡¯t wanted to. Not initially, but now the Queen of Thorns gloried in what she was doing as she spread her blight in an ever larger radius.

    Part of her might hate herself for it, but that small, sad voice could only be heard when she was at peace. That was almost never anymore, though, since she lived two lives now.

    By day, she was a blight. And she spread across the world an acre at a time. One day, she would wipe out a farmer¡¯s field with molds and rusts that made wheat stalks droop so low that their heavy grain dragged on the ground. The next, an ill wind might sweep through a forest, and parasitic vines that had never been seen there before would climb old-growth trunks and begin to suck out vitality.

    Her goal was not to despoil the entire world, at least not immediately. Instead, she was probing for the presence of small gods and nature spirits. She was looking for the children of the forest and their sweet blood by forcing those prideful beings to defend their turf. Once they did so, well, all she had to do was wait for the sun to set.

    Because of all the changes the Lich had inflicted on her, she could really only emerge into the world once it was fully dark. It was then the hunt would begin. Sometimes, she was a six-armed woman with weapons of wood and magic and other times, she was an eight-legged hunting cat made of twining vines. In either form, she was forever bleeding dark red sap from the thorns that pierced her skin.

    Once she found her prey, it would not escape her. If it was a spirit, she would devour it whole and add its domain to her ever-growing dominion over the world. Ironically, though, if it was something closer to mortal, then she had to be more careful. She had been punished before for ruining valuable corpses of the rare specimens that she hunted down.

    The Lich could not harvest their souls or build something new and abominable from their parts if she tore them to shreds. So, instead, she lapped up the fresh blood of mythological creatures and the elder blood of the forest children while it was still warm, then planted herself near the piles of bodies she gathered and feasted on the spilled blood that stained the earth until her master sent drudges to collect the necromantic treasure trove.

    It often asked her questions like, ¡°Who are the Children of the Forest? Where do they come from? Where do they flee to?¡±

    The Queen of Thrones couldn¡¯t answer those questions, though. If she¡¯d ever known, then those answers had been lost in the course of being remade. That wouldn¡¯t surprise her. She¡¯d lost so much to get what she had now, but she didn¡¯t regret it.

    ¡°Ask the souls yourselves!¡± she growled, but apparently, they didn¡¯t have the answers that it sought either. They were too fine a structure and fell apart at the smallest amount of coercion or torment, like a sculpture of spun glass.

    The most she could do was describe the moonlit portals that small fae beings opened and repeat the words they told each other before they sensed her presence. They were not her focus, though; the elder beings were just a delicious treat that she sometimes found. Her real priority was the spirits that were so like the women she¡¯d once been, and every time she ate one of them, she got stronger.

    At this point, it was hard to imagine being the Goddess of one pine forest or a single valley. She was not yet strong enough to compete with Niama, the Goddess of the natural world, but she would be. She knew that with a certainty. She would face off against her old mistress someday soon, no matter how many of her sisters she had to feast on between here and there.

    Of course, even devouring an acre a day made this a very slow process. The world was a huge place, and there were a thousand tiny places for the light to hide among the darkening world, and so little of it was held by communities loyal enough to the Lich that she was forced to leave them in peace. Those she had to take time out of her hunt to bless, and ensure that their crops thrived against the darkness and the rot. Those duties always chafed at her.

    Even in this new, mutilated form, she had no love for humanity and the idea that she must make the fields of the loyal blossom even while other fields had to wither annoyed her. So, the Queen of Thorns was very pleased when she found a tiny community that had been missed by all the other armies and abominations that had rampaged through the area.

    It wasn¡¯t the first human she¡¯d found to feast on, of course. Even after all the Lich¡¯s efforts, the world was not yet the dead place it desired for it to be. There were still mountain men tucked away, checking their traps and keeping their heads down, and hunters who stayed alive by always being on the move. Occasionally, one of them got it into their heads to do something heroic, like try to sack one of the Lich¡¯s many dungeons or scavenge through the ruins of some city or temple in search of treasure that no longer had meaning.

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    The first time she¡¯d come across one of these increasingly endangered loners, she¡¯d asked the Lich what she should do since she had such clear orders regarding beasts she¡¯d probably never find and spirits with very difficult-to-decipher descriptions. The answer she received was an intense jolt of pain that echoed through her limbs and the words, ¡°Do not waste my time with such trivialities. Expunge those mortals and then focus on your true purpose!¡±

    The Lich was only kind to her when she brought down some new creature it had never seen before, so when it came to everything else, she no longer even mentioned it to the Lich. Instead, she toyed with it, like a cat hunting a mouse.

    She sent those rare hunters in circles for days, never able to escape from a fog-shrouded forest as they slowly ran out of hope and supplies. It was an enjoyable game that she never tired of. She would let them go slowly mad and fully give into despair before she would personally hunt them down and rip them to bloody shreds.

    An entire hamlet, though, would have to be handled differently. The queen of Thorns gave it a lot of thought as she lurked into weedy groves nearby before she decided that the right way to go was to make the children go missing first. They often played near the edges of the forest when they weren¡¯t needed for chores, and after seeing just how thin and scrawny they were, the dark Goddess decided it was the easiest thing in the world to lure them in with glimpses of sweet red berries that started at the edge of the tree line, with more easily visible further on.

    The kids flocked to bushes to gorge themselves on the fruits, and it was only when they¡¯d eaten their fill of the rare treat that they started to gather them. The Queen of Thorns could have poisoned them, of course, but that wouldn¡¯t have been nearly cruel enough. Instead, she gave them all they wanted and more. Soon, the band of almost a dozen boys and girls was arguing about what to do next.

    ¡°Well, of course, we have to get the rest of them!¡± one boy announced boldly. ¡°What we don¡¯t pick will just be taken by the birds anyway.¡±

    ¡°But Mama says we ain¡¯t supposed to go in there,¡± one of the girls said staunchly, even as some of the braver kids started to move toward bushes deeper in. ¡°There are wild animals and monsters and¡ª¡±

    ¡°There ain¡¯t no monsters,¡± the first boy laughed. ¡°If you¡¯re scared, then you don¡¯t have to come. We¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    ¡°But the rules,¡± she pouted, stomping her foot. ¡°We have to¡­¡±

    Other children laughed at that, which tipped the balance. No one wanted to be called scared, after all. Where once most of the kids had been content to stand at the edge of the forest and follow the rules, now most of them crossed that imaginary line that separated safety from danger.

    It was a lie, though. That had been erased as soon as the Queen of Thorns had found this sheltered enclave, eking out its quiet existence. Still, the meadow that the few remaining children would be enough to save them for now. Slowly, though, a few minutes at a time, each child decided to throw caution to the wind and give in to the peer pressure. In the end, there was only one ten-year-old girl left, pouting and fuming as she held her dolly, waiting for everyone to come back.

    They¡¯d never be back, though. The lone little girl waited, calling the names of her friends, but they ventured deeper and deeper down the primrose path that The Queen of Thorns had created to tempt them. By the time she went back home shortly before sunset to tell her parents what had happened, she¡¯d long since lost sight of them completely, and had been left alone for hours.

    Of course, a search party was formed, but they¡¯d only ever find pieces of those that had wandered off, and the red stains on the trail they followed hadn¡¯t been caused by crushed berries alone. Few of the men that ventured into the woods that night made it back, and the ones that did were dark-eyed and broken.

    She devoured all of the strong warriors herself and left only the weaker sort who could spread fear to their neighbors free. They had seen what such a goddess could do to defenseless young children, and though most would not speak of it, they didn¡¯t have to. The horror of such things had poisoned their souls, and all too soon, that poison would sink into the soil of the fields that sustained them.

    Calves sickened, and insects flourished that spring, but there was nothing for it. These people had avoided the troubles of the wider world in a tiny farming community that the forest had hidden away, but the forest was hers now, and even if there was someplace to flee to, there was no way that any of them would find a safe path through her darkening domain.

    All they could do was try to pretend that everything was normal as the trees encroached and unfamiliar blight worsened. It wouldn¡¯t last. Day by day, things got worse, and good people died or went mad from the strain of trying to pretend their own tiny corner of the world wasn¡¯t about to end.

    Though the dark nature Goddess couldn¡¯t linger here for too long, lest she draw the wrath of her master for other reasons, she would still make the time for this. In a few weeks, it would be like the place never existed. Trees would sprout in cultivated fields, weeds would overwhelm homes, and those that weren¡¯t hunted down by her terrible cat form that hunted the woods each night would die of starvation and leave their bones to bleach in the sun.

    The Queen of Thorns realized that the Lich would probably want to be told of this place if only to harvest the bodies, but she didn¡¯t plan to do anything of the sort. It had made its position very clear, and she had no wish to taint the memory of the fun she¡¯d had unwinding the threads of family and community with a rebuke.

    If it had wanted to be informed of places like this, then it should have been more clear, she thought to herself as she drifted on in search of other prey.

 Ch. 175 - Prepared for Anything

    Tenebroum spent more and more time in the well of darkness that had been Blackwater. Now that Abenend had fallen, there was little point in being anywhere else. At night, it would still leave briefly or take to the eyes of its watchers, which were nothing more than zombified owls that had been given extra eyes so they could see even more clearly in the darkness. This was so that it could gaze upon the moon and bask in the certainty that one day, the entirety of her fine white surface would grow dark.

    What would happen after that? It wasn¡¯t sure.

    Would the thing vanish or die? Would it have to strangle whatever foul creature was born from her corpse in its crib lest it become a rival? The Lich could not say, but even if the method of assassination birthed new challenges, Tenebroum would still be happy to see her go.

    The Moon Goddess was even more slippery and elusive than Oroza, and it had learned more about her from the souls of the mages it had devoured than everywhere else combined. A minority of those very souls seemed to think that magic might cease to exist when she did, but most of them thought that it would simply grow more dangerous for mortals to use without her purifying light.

    The Lich was very skeptical that anything could snuff magic out in a single day. It was a natural force that permeated everything, but even so, it had begun to stock extra essence in its dread ring just in case things should go awry.

    Still, these tiny excursions were no different than the way a farmer might sit on his porch and watch the sunset or a noble would stand at his window and watch his serfs toiling away. They were a reward for a hard day¡¯s work, and the Lich was toiling now night and day.

    Well, at least its servants were. The dead city of Constantinal, on the far side of the Wyrmspire mountains to the north, might be slaving away to build an endless tide of war zombies for all the battles to come. The desert kingdoms had fallen without much fighting, but initial reports suggested that would not be the case even further to the north.

    All that had done, however, was free up the fleshcrafters and the forgeweights of Blackwater to do other things. Those other things, at least since the fall of Rahkin, had been to make sure that it never faced humiliation on the battlefield again.

    The Lich loathed being forced to take the field at all. It was demeaning that it should ever have to do so, but the only way to prevent that in the future would be to make more powerful servants. As much as it loathed the idea of being forced to take weapons into its own hands and fight its enemies, it hated the idea of giving any of its minions enough power to rival a god even more, for obvious reasons.

    So, day after day and week after week, its most clever creators hammered rare metals and stitched together alchemically treated leathers to create new forms that were optimized for all future scenarios that it could imagine. This was something it had worked on long before now, even before its first god-slayer form had been finalized. Still, most of these had not made the cut.

    Even a few years ago, it had only a few different corpses it could wear on the field of battle should the need arise. In addition to its preferred form, there were a few larger versions of similar designs. One had been built like a six-legged centaur to favor speed as much as anything else; it had been given four arms so it could fire poison arrows from two different long bows simultaneously, but the Lich had never gotten used to the gait. There were a few flying forms, but all of them were too fragile for its liking, and it doubted it would ever find the need to wear them.

    Of all its early forms, only the chorus had stood out as truly unique. It, too, was terribly fragile, but the ability to sing in the voices of a dozen dead casters wearing a body clothed in the faces of the dead was a terribly powerful thing. Sorcery, as the humans preferred to use it in the heat of battle, involved one man chanting ancient words, but the Lich found that too stifling.

    It generally preferred to show up on the battlefield with every arcane contrivance it expected to need already enchanted into objects and weapons, ready to be used. Though this option was less flexible, the results were generally much more powerful. Indeed, these triumphs of darkness had become so commonplace now that frost blades were regularly handed out to its most powerful death knights to make them even more fearsome.

    This did have the disadvantage of leaving it unprepared for certain situations, though. A chorus of bound mages could summon a twister or two or even rain fire or disease down on its enemies before their vocal cords frayed or their minds gave out.

    That was why, thanks to Brother Verdenin¡¯s inspiration, it was having a staff that functioned on the principles of a pipe organ crafted. The priest had commissioned a large version of that strange instrument to be built in the inner sanctum, and over the last year after much effort it had finally been constructed. It was even larger than the one that had existed and Siddrimar, though all of the notes were tuned two octaves lower, and most of the hymns were played in minor scales with flat keys instead of the sharper ones that the Lord of Light¡¯s worshipers had preferred.

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    It still wasn¡¯t as beautiful as it should have been, but the sound of its terrible low notes could be heard and felt almost anywhere in the lair at this point, which the Lich found to be quite pleasing, especially when a choir filled with men and women who had each had their vocal cords surgically altered so that they could sing only a single note, sang in accompaniment to it.

    Brother Verdinan had vowed to rip out his eyes once the undertemple was complete, and the giant brass pipes were fully decorated and engraved with all the words of the scriptures of darkness, ¡°because after that, he never needed to gaze on anything less perfect again.¡±

    This pleased the Lich, too. It had already decided that when the man died, it would bind the high priest¡¯s soul to the organ so that it could sing the Lich¡¯s praises for the rest of time. That was the only fitting reward for a man who had spread his fervor to so many.

    Even more important than the man¡¯s devotion or the stream of missionaries he was sending north to preach the truth of the darkness to the benighted desert kingdoms and beyond, though, were the mechanics of how that musical instrument worked. It was one thing to have it playing soothing melodies at a volume that might deafen anyone who wandered too close to the main chapel on certain days, but it would be something else to use it as a weapon of war.

    The end result was a sort of music box hidden inside the golden skulls that topped the staff. There were five of them, each from a dead woman or child. They had all been gilded and fixed in such a way so that when the elemental fire and water that were hidden in the staff itself were mixed, the ensuing steam would boil up and force one or more of them to screech the words of a spell at a volume sufficient for the mages that were bound in the little devices to unleash havoc on demand.

    It still wasn¡¯t a perfect solution, but it was a flexible one, and it doubted that any enemy could anticipate such an odd new weapon that might be wielded by any of its bodies. However, other than checking on the Lunaris¡¯s failing health and making progress in the slow work of undermining the All-Father, all that Tenebroum did most days was swirl through the darkness of its own hive, inspecting the craftsmanship of the various vessels that were in production for imaginary fights, and nameless future enemies.

    It would be ready, no matter what it faced. Tenebroum had promised itself that.

    All of these abominations contained a golden core to hold as much of its grand, swirling soul as possible, but that was where the similarities ended. Past that, each one was unique. The most recent corpse to have been completed for it was built so that it could not be ambushed, and topping its seven-armed form of imperfect radial symmetry was a crown of eyes that looked in all directions at once.

    It was nothing special, though. Not when compared to the spidery body that could launch alchemical webbing that was as sticky as it was poisonous, or the aquatic body that it some day hoped to hunt down Oroza with. It was the evidence that he had not forgotten about her and that when the time was right, it would devour her whole so she could never escape again. Truthfully, her disobedience deserved much greater punishment than that, but it would be self-indulgent to enslave her to some menial task in perpetuity, just to risk her escape a second time so that it might make her suffering worse.

    All of these forms were just the tip of the iceberg, though. It had built a gilded skeleton that could be used just like Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s multiplying goblin form, though because it feared what a copy of itself might do if allowed to get free, it had never tested it before. Still, should the need arise, it could become a hundred-fold army all on its own, so it would never need to fear that another army might try to ambush it.

    Most of its forms were more practical than that, though. One had been made to be entirely fireproof for obvious reasons, while several were built to withstand ever-increasing amounts of light, corrosion, or force. By contrast, some were built to radiate heat, cold, or even disease. More than one was only a container and an anchor for the army of shadows that it could unleash to devastating effect.

    Each one was beautiful in its own terrible way. It even had some forms built solely for aesthetic reasons in case it ever wished to grace some mortal kingdom in person for diplomatic reasons. Those had been created long ago, though, and it thought that trying to cater to such lesser beings now would be embarrassing. Instead, it decided it might split the Voice of Reason¡¯s soul the same way it had done with the Dark Paragon upon her return and turn those bodies of gold and ivory to other purposes.

    That was why all but the largest bodies now decorated the undertemple and the area around it. In alcoves between mosaics and on plinths above, the parishioners below they stood there like humanity often did with saints. Each vessel was just another aspect of Tenebroum, though, which was entirely fitting given the character of the worship it demanded. It was a jealous god, and it would never accept another as ally or enemy.

    Only the largest bodies were stored elsewhere. To date, the largest one was a draconic form made in homage to the swamp dragon that had served it so faithfully and for so long. Its blackbirds had found the partial skeleton of another long-dead drake, and its workers had labored tirelessly to create a body using those magnificent parts. It still didn¡¯t fly, of course. Of all the magics out there, flight was the trickiest, and you had to give up so much to obtain it. Even so, each scale had been runed and warded, and in time, when it decided which terrible breath weapon to install, it would be a force to be reckoned with.

    Taken as a whole, the Lich was content. If it was ever forced to fight again, it would certainly have the right weapon for the job.

 Ch. 176 - Foreverâ€™s End

    Leo was fighting imaginary enemies on the cliffs that overlooked the beach when the mage approached him. He had seen the man looking down on them from his tower many times, but he¡¯d only ever seen him outside the tower before with Jordan. That would have been enough to mark the circumstance as odd, even if he wasn¡¯t strolling toward Leo like he didn¡¯t have a care in the world.

    He wasn¡¯t sure whether he would have felt the goosebumps of fear rising on his arms and neck if he couldn¡¯t see the black aura that the man possessed, but then he could scarcely turn his sight off now. So, he would never know.

    All mages had a touch of darkness in them, according to Brother Faerbar. Leo wasn¡¯t sure why that was true, but it certainly seemed to be the case in the only two that he¡¯d seen. It wasn¡¯t the same darkness that he¡¯d seen in the bad men who lived at Sedgim Manor, but it certainly wasn¡¯t light.

    Still, it was something that seemed to advance with age or perhaps with the casting of spells. He wasn¡¯t sure which. Jordan¡¯s soul had gotten much darker since they¡¯d come here.

    Compared to their host, though, Jordan¡¯s soul was almost as pure as his own. The tower mage, which was all the children called the man, was so dark that he bordered on being a black silhouette, and Leo had trouble seeing the details of the man even as he approached him.

    ¡°What do you train so hard for?¡± the Tower Mage asked when he finally got close enough to speak without raising his voice too much. ¡°The barrier protects us all. Your time would be better spent helping with the fields or¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not all evil can be kept away with trickery and magic,¡± the boy said, paraphrasing a psalm that actually read ¡®with planning¡¯ instead of magic. ¡°Sometimes a sword is required.¡±

    Leo didn¡¯t look at the mage, not after the initial glance. He found the swirling form that was more absence than man to be a little unnerving. Instead, he kept his eyes locked straight ahead as he swung his wooden sword in strikes that were as precise as they were repetitive.

    ¡°You think my magic will fail then?¡± the mage said in an amused tone.

    ¡°What I think doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Leo said, not sure what to say. He might not be the eleven-year-old he was stuck as anymore, but he had no idea how to handle a situation like this. He wasn¡¯t good at much else besides fighting. ¡°No matter what you do with your spells, the darkness is already in here with us.¡±

    That made the mage laugh out loud, and Leo had no idea if that was a good or a bad thing. ¡°All mages are full of darkness, is it? I should have known you¡¯d sound like a Sidrimite with that much light inside you.¡±

    ¡°No, all mages are full of darkness,¡± Leo corrected. ¡°Jordan only has a little, but you¡­¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you precocious,¡± the Tower Mage sighed. ¡°Well, how about I let you in on a little secret to ease your worries. This darkness¡­ it¡¯s not evil. Not like the undead that roam around, it¡¯s¡­ or has my apprentice told you this already.¡±

    ¡°Jordan?¡± Leo asked, finally stopping his strikes and resting his sword on the ground as he turned to face the strange man. ¡°He hasn¡¯t ever brought the darkness up. Not like this.¡±

    ¡°Well, that''s typical,¡± the tower mage nodded. ¡°No matter what Siddrim says, mages are not evil. It¡¯s just that the longer they serve Lunaris, the more light she takes to make new stars.¡±

    Leo nodded along like that made any sense, but truthfully, it sounded pretty dumb to him. If an evil soul let in darkness, and a good soul was one that was flooded with light, then giving away that light for magic would make you just as evil as any other reason, wouldn¡¯t it? He wasn¡¯t sure, but really it didn¡¯t matter.

    More than anything, the intensity of the man-made Leo felt like he needed to get the hell out of there. For once, he sorely regretted the way he spurred everyone else and their chores to focus on practicing alone.

    ¡°I¡­ uhmm, that¡¯s interesting,¡± he stammered, ¡°But actually, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re not going anywhere, I¡¯m afraid,¡± the mage said with a poison-laced voice. ¡°I¡¯ve been watching you, and I¡¯ve decided you¡¯re the perfect person to help me with my new experiment.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know much about magic, I¡¯m afraid,¡± he answered as he started to back away slowly. ¡°But I promise that when I find Jordan, I¡¯ll let him know.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my apprentice can¡¯t help me with this one, I¡¯m afraid,¡± the mage said dismissively as Leo turned. He planned to bolt, but no sooner had he taken a step toward town than a pair of ghostly soldiers appeared in front of him with swords drawn. ¡°This is an experiment that only someone overflowing with light like you can help me with, my dear boy.¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    A shiver went down Leo¡¯s spine as he took in those words. As jarring as they were, though, they weren¡¯t enough to stop him from studying his opponents.

    No, they aren¡¯t ghosts, he decided. Ghosts would have had black streamers and taint that tried to leach the color from the surrounding air. Whatever they were, these things weren¡¯t dead. Instead, they were magical constructs that glimmered with iridescent cyan light.

    Maybe they¡¯re illusions, he thought more, hopefully.

    That was possible, and for a moment, Leo almost tried to walk right through them, but the way they held their swords as he moved closer was enough to convince him an attack was imminent, so he lifted his own sword into a guard, not certain what wood would do against magic, but unwilling to go quietly.

    ¡°Nothing you do will make me help you,¡± Leo spat. ¡°And if you hurt me, then Jordan will¡ª¡±

    ¡°There is nothing that my apprentice can do to me that I cannot stop with a wave of my hand,¡± the shadowy mage said in a tone of utter assurance. ¡°Even if I were to train him for a century or more, he¡¯d never be more than a middling hedge mage. Now come along quietly, and I won¡¯t have to hurt you¡­ much.¡±

    Leo charged the closest enemy and roared a battle cry as loud as he could while he lashed out with his sword. If this maniac didn¡¯t want to hurt him, then that was his only advantage. Maybe he would hesitate, and Leo could fight free. Then he could¡­

    His plan of action fell apart as he brought his wooden blade down hard on the first guard, making him shatter into a million glittering pieces like he¡¯d been a stained-glass window and not a soldier at all. The other one brought his translucent sword down on Leo, even as he brought his wooden one up in a smooth overhand block. The result was just as spectacular, and the second illusion shattered as well.

    For a moment, he felt excellent. Intellectually, he knew he couldn¡¯t beat a mage, but part of him wondered if maybe the man was a fraud. That moment of confidence faded as soon as he realized that the pieces weren''t going to vanish. Instead, they swirled around him like a constellation of broken glass.

    ¡°Just remember, I did offer to do this the easy way,¡± the dark mage said in a sardonic tone.

    Leo had only an instant to process those words before the twinkling bits of magic closed in around him on all sides like a swarm of bees. He didn¡¯t panic or try to fight them, though. He knew that would be hopeless. Instead, he lunged at the mage¡¯s inky form. If he could just hit him, then perhaps he might distract him enough to ruin the spell.

    Leo never made it that far. Instead, the magic overwhelmed him in a storm of stinging. He tried to fight them off, but everywhere they struck him, they stuck to him like tar. Bit by bit, he slowed, but he was practically paralyzed after a few seconds as what had been fragile as gossamer before hardened to become harder than wood.

    Once that was done, it started to expand again. He was in a cage of sorts now, but it was a cage in the shape of a body, like one of the guards he¡¯d just shattered. This time, though, it didn¡¯t break; it started moving, walking back to the tower, one plodding step at a time.

    ¡°Let me out of here!¡± Leo raged, but it was useless. His hands and feet were stuck inside this weird thing, and even if he had enough air to breathe inside the thing¡¯s hollow body, it practically muted him. He knew that no matter how loud he shouted, no one would hear him.

    ¡°Syraliam¡¯s Shapable Servants is an awkward spell, but for moments like this¡­ well, think of it as a way that I can bring you to my tower that doesn¡¯t involve maiming or any other permanent damage. For someone else I might just bend their mind, but the light doesn¡¯t take kindly to such tricks,¡± the mage explained as he started walking alongside his prisoner as if he cared about any of this.

    All Leo wanted while the man talked was to break free and rip out his throat. However, like everything else in life, he simply wasn¡¯t strong enough.

    Still, as the minutes passed while they walked to the tower, that rage started to wane, slowly souring into despair. He wasn¡¯t ready to give up or anything, but if things continued that way, then he might have. Then, as they approached the door to the tower, he saw his friends running toward him.

    Some of them had wooden tools, others had farm equipment. It was clear that someone had heard his battle cry earlier, and the world had passed through sanctuary. Even a few of the villagers were coming to see what all the commotion was.

    Jordan was not among them, he realized. Instead, he was standing in front of the door to the tower, barring the way like he''d known this was going to happen all along.

    ¡°Thank you all for coming to investigate the source of the trouble,¡± the mage said, addressing the growing crowd, ¡°But I assure you I have it all well in hand.¡± The mage¡¯s voice was calm, which, more than anything, told Leo just how little of a threat the small mob was to a man like him. ¡°I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Get your hands off Leo!¡± Reggie yelled. His words were the leading edge of a chorus, and Leo quickly realized that almost everyone had shown up.

    In the initial moments, he hadn¡¯t noticed, but now that they¡¯d stopped as the mage attempted to reason with the crowd, he could count almost a dozen pairs of glowing eyes looking back at him from the mob. Everyone was there. Well, everyone except for Cynara.

    Where was she, he wondered, even as he hoped she was sneaking up behind them.

    The mage ignored all of them, though, and instead turned to face Jordan, who stood there holding that book he carried everywhere now. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me,¡± Jordan said with a shrug, ¡°I didn¡¯t tell them. This is always the way it was going to happen once you decided you could use other people like pawns.¡±

    ¡°And who¡¯s going to stop me?¡± the dark mage scoffed. ¡°You?

 Ch. 177 - Foreverâ€™s End (part 2)

    ¡°We both know I can do nothing to stop you,¡± Jordan said with a shake of his head. Leo¡¯s heart sank at those words before the man continued. ¡°But your weakness doesn¡¯t involve you, does it, Tazuranth.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve had centuries to plan for every eventuality,¡± the mage boasted. ¡°I was an Archmage before your grandparents were born, and the spells that power sanctuary are flawless. You can do nothing to stop me from harvesting this light, but even if you could, you wouldn¡¯t because you know how badly the night sky needs more stars.¡±

    ¡°You might find some twisted words that explain to me why we need to sacrifice one child to save the world,¡± Jordan agreed, ¡°but certainly not 12 of them, and certainly not Leo. I personally picked him off of a cursed battlefield. He didn¡¯t survive that ordeal just so you could¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Tazuranth spat. ¡°Lunaris is on her deathbed, and I must prepare for what comes next. Move aside, and I won¡¯t strike you down.¡±

    Jordan only smiled at that because that was what caused the rest of the children to charge the Archmage. Of course, that probably wouldn¡¯t do any more than Jordan¡¯s words, but it still warmed his heart to see the boys and girls he¡¯d fought and played with for so long besides trying to save him from certain doom.

    Then, with a wave of his hand and a few words, the Archmage produced a faint, hazy cloud that wafted over the crowd, instantly dropping most of them to the patchy crabgrass where they¡¯d been running.

    Toman held his breath and ran the farthest, which made Leo smile a bit. Despite everything else that was happening, he was getting stronger, and Leo could respect that. Still, moments later, when everyone was asleep or dead on the grass, all Leo could do was struggle at his bonds and glare at the mage. ¡°If you¡¯ve hurt them, I¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll what,¡± the mage laughed, ¡°I might have to deal with my misguided apprentice before he damages something. But the rest of you¡­ After I¡¯m done siphoning the light from you, I¡¯ll repeat the same with your friends, and if you survive the experience, well, maybe we can do it over again and¡­¡±

    The mage¡¯s words trailed off as an arrow suddenly arced through the air over the heads of all of them.

    ¡°No!¡± the mage yelled as he suddenly understood Jordan¡¯s threat, even if Leo still didn¡¯t. He had no idea what would happen next, but at least now he knew where Cynaria had been.

    She¡¯d been at the archery butt more than she¡¯d been at the beach lately, getting better and better with her short bow. She¡¯d said it was to give other people a chance at winning, but that rang hollow to him. He didn¡¯t know what it was she was aiming at, but whatever it was, the first arrow must have missed because she fired a second.

    This time, he and the Archmage both saw her. ¡°Little brat,¡± he growled as he pulled out a wand from his robes and aimed it at the sky, causing the wispy afternoon clouds that dotted the blue sky above them to begin to darken and rumble.

    Leo knew with certainty that he was going to strike her down. He was going to call fire or lightning down from the heavens and annihilate her in a single blow, and there was nothing he could do to stop the man, no matter how hard he struggled against his illusionary bonds.

    Then, there was the sound of breaking glass somewhere in the distance. Leo didn¡¯t have a chance to wonder what it was, though, because his full attention was taken up by the ripples that traveled across the sky. The shield¡­ the dome that had hidden them from the world for so long¡­ it was fading. No, worse, it was collapsing.

    Leo had seen that magic for a long time now. It was a familiar sight that was always in the background of everything they did, and now it was vanishing. That could only mean one thing. He reluctantly tore his eyes from the ripples and looked to the Archmage.

    Now that the barrier he¡¯d built so long ago was gone, time was flowing in, and the mage was drowning in it. It was hard to see the details exactly because he was so covered in shadows, but Leo could see him drop the wand even as he clutched his chest and fell over.

    The transformation was clearer in the other residents of Sanctuary. Each of them aged decades in seconds, and by the time they fell to the ground, they were already shriveled corpses. Those graying, shrinking corpses didn¡¯t stop aging when they died. Instead, they continued to rapidly decay until they were only skeletons wearing the clothes of the living.

    It was an impossible thing, and he doubted that everyone else would believe it when they woke up, but he¡¯d seen it, and he could not doubt what his eyes showed him. Really, they should be grateful that they hadn¡¯t had to watch, he thought as he watched the last of the dust that had once been the Archmage blow away, leaving behind none of the darkness that had poisoned the man¡¯s soul.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Even as he saw Cynaria running toward him from across the field, part of him expected the tower to collapse, but whatever strange magics the Archmage Tazuranth had women seemed only to affect the living, and they were all gone now. Well, all of those that had been sheltered by time for more than a few years, anyway.

    ¡°By the gods, Leo, you¡¯re safe. He didn¡¯t get you!¡± she said as she hugged him so tightly he thought she might crush his ribs.

    It was only when Cynara reached him and hugged him tightly that he realized he was not unaffected either. He was taller than her now. Only by a few inches, but still, that was all the height in the world for someone who had been waiting for years not to be the shortest of his group.

    At that moment, Leo felt ashamed for the selfish joy that he felt, but he couldn¡¯t stop himself from feeling it just the same. He¡¯d finally gotten something he¡¯d wanted, but at what cost?

    ¡°How did you know?¡± he asked finally. ¡°To shoot, I mean? Did Jordan tell you?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly,¡± she said, stepping back self-consciously. It was easy to see that she¡¯d grown up, too, but it was even easier to look away and pretend she hadn¡¯t. ¡°One day last year, I asked him about this spell, and he¡­ well, he pointed to that little crystal right on top of the spiral and said that it powered the whole thing and that if anything ever went wrong, all someone would have to do was break it, and the tower mage would lose all his power over us.¡±

    She looked around at all the skeletons, and until that moment, he wasn¡¯t sure that she understood that she¡¯d done that, but when she began to cry, it was obvious that she knew. ¡°But I didn¡¯t know¡­ I didn¡¯t think¡­¡± she sobbed, embracing him a second time as she cried into his shoulder.

    Leo had no idea what to do with a crying girl, especially not one that had suddenly become so pretty. So, he just held her as he took in the scene, not sure what else to do.

    With the mage gone and his magic failing, everyone started to stir once more. However, the mood was one of confusion, not celebration, and it wasn¡¯t until Jordan woke up and started to explain things that they made any sense.

    ¡°He¡¯d been planning to use all of you for some time,¡± Jordan said, ¡°I wish I could have taken you far away from here to prevent this, but it was much too dangerous before now outside of the protection of his spell.¡±

    ¡°But aren¡¯t we all outside the protection of that horrible man¡¯s magic now?¡± Jenna asked. ¡°It¡¯s gone, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Jordan agreed. ¡°And the world is a lot more dangerous than what it was the last time we were out there. That¡¯s true, too. But we¡¯ll do whatever we have to do next, it will be okay.¡±

    ¡°Okay?¡± Cynara practically shouted as they all gathered together among the corpses. ¡°Okay?! How can you say that? I killed everyone. The townsfolk didn¡¯t deserve this. How¡­ why would you want me to do this?¡±

    She was in control of her tears now, but only because of her anger. They were all getting used to these strange changes. No one looked the same as they had before, and everyone¡¯s clothes had gotten too small and tight as they¡¯d each aged almost 4 years in a few seconds.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t kill anyone,¡± Jordan said calmly. ¡°You saved Leo. Everything that happened to make that happen is Archmage Tazuranth¡¯s fault. If you hadn¡¯t stopped him, then once he was done with Leo, he would have come for the rest of you, one at a time, until you were the corpses that decorated the ground.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡± she started.

    ¡°No buts,¡± he chided her. ¡°This is how it had to happen. There was simply no other way forward from here. Everything will move much quicker from now on, and you must be ready for it.¡±

    ¡°But the harvest,¡± Sam protested. ¡°Surely we must¡­¡±

    ¡°We will pick what we can, and then we will move before the Lich can find us,¡± Jordan answered. ¡°It is overwhelmingly powerful, but it is not omniscient, and a moving target is much harder to surround and prepare for.¡±

    The conversation continued on for a long while after that. It was like the mage thought this would be the last time they talked or something. Jordan was often very patient with them, but today he was especially so, and he talked until the sun set before they decided it was time for dinner, even though the conversation mostly went in circles as different children asked him the same questions in different ways.

    How could they not, though? People were dead, and everyone was changed. Leo had been the shortest for years and years, and now, in a single afternoon, everyone was changed, and the playing field that they¡¯d all known for so long was equalized and distorted.

    At that moment, more than anything, Leo wanted to battle so they could all test themselves and learn what their older bodies were capable of. Instead, as everyone went back to the barn that had become their home all this time, he walked to the cliffs and looked out at the nighttime sky and tried to make sense of it all.

    With the spell of Sanctuary shattered, the weather had gotten worse almost immediately, and it was chillier now than it should have been for this time of the year. The miasma of the outside world had also started to leak in, but he couldn¡¯t do anything about that. All he could do was look out over the ocean with its barely visible white caps and listen to the sound of the waves. Then, just as he went to go back and join everyone else, he saw something.

    Even from the cliff, he could see something glimmering down there in the nighttime seas, not so far from shore. If the moon had been out, he would have thought it was nothing more than a reflection. As it was, though. The night was pitch black, and it was only his glowing eyes that let him see as he started to pick his path down to the shore to investigate.

    Leo had no idea what it was they were supposed to do next. He did know one thing, though. He knew that he was never going to leave an unanswered question behind again.

 Ch. 178 - New Moon

    The moon was black now, but thanks to Taz¡¯s endless conversations about celestial objects, and tables of solar and lunar motion, Jordan still knew that it was time for it to rise. It was nothing but a shadow in the sky now as it rose, but even if his eyes worked as well as they used to, he doubted very much that he¡¯d be able to find it, even with Taz¡¯s telescope.

    More than that, though, even beyond the knowledge of where it would be in the sky, and when, he could feel it calling to him. All through his long talk with the children, and even during dinner, he could feel it like a pressure on the back of his mind. Even if he knew it was related to the moon, though, he did not know why. Was she angry with him for murdering her chosen champion?

    Eventually, that pressure became impossible to ignore, so he stepped out into the cold night air. He wasn¡¯t sure if he would make the long walk to the tower and try to find it with the telescope, or what, be he felt the need to be outside that throbbed in time with his heart. It turned out that it wasn¡¯t the fresh air, he required, though. It was the solitude.

    As soon as he got far enough from the light eyed children that he could no longer hear their talking and chatter, though, he could hear something closer to a whisper or a buzz, from somewhere far away. This confused Jordan, but even if he wanted to resist it, he couldn¡¯t have. It was practically a compulsion. So, he followed it, ever deeper into the unharvested fields of Sanctuary, where the darkness and the distant sounds of the ocean combined to create something deeper than silence. It was there he heard the words clearly for the first time.

    ¡°Come to me, Jordan. There¡¯s not much time left,¡± the voice whispered.

    ¡°Come to you?¡± he asked, confused. ¡°Where? How?¡±

    ¡°Jump,¡± the whispery voice breathed, so close that it tickled his ear and made him turn around to find no one there. ¡°Take a leap of faith, as you did so long ago¡­¡±

    Jordan¡¯s blood ran cold as he suddenly understood who it was that was speaking to him, and what it was she was asking him to do. His first urge was to ask where he was supposed to go, but he suppressed that too, because he already knew the answer, and it was simply too absurd to hear aloud.

    The moon. She wants me to teleport to the thrice-damned moon! He thought, as he stood there, gazing half blind into the night sky.

    Jordan sighed at the impossibility of the request. No one had ever teleported half so far and lived to tell the tale, but somehow, she wanted him to cast a spell that he hadn¡¯t used in years, and reach a place so far away that no mortal had ever trod upon in all of recorded history?

    Perhaps it¡¯s not Lunaris, he thought in a moment of self-doubt. Perhaps it''s merely some wraith trying to trick me into destroying myself.

    That was practically a joke of course. If something was watching him there were easier ways to strike down an out of practice apprentice like him than using self-doubt. Still, he clung to that delusion for a moment in an attempt to ignore the memory of his last and only brush with the Goddess so long ago.

    Of course, it was impossible to forget moments like that. He still had nightmares about the moment he felt the world freezing into place, locking him beyond time in space so he could bitterly regret his miscalculation until his mind disintegrated from madness.

    In his nightmares, though, there was no Goddess to pull him free. Of course. He was just trapped there in the dark with nothing but Brother Faerbar¡¯s eyes glowing in accusation forever.

    Jordan took a few deep breaths to calm down, as he started to run the incantations through his mind that would let him step between worlds. He probably still trusted himself to jump across the several hundred yards that stood between him and the tower. In the daytime, at least. Jordan knew every inch of Sanctuary, and of that tower, still, further that that seemed like a death sentence, and the moon was a lot further away than the top of Taz¡¯s now empty tower.

    Jordan searched the horizon, looking for the place without a single blurry star, and when he finally found it, he wondered if such a thing is even possible. ¡°Are you really going to do whatever a voice in your head tells you to?¡± Jordan asked himself, as he tried to talk himself out of this. He already knew the answer, though.

    Suicide or not, he had been called, and he was going. His only regret was that he hadn¡¯t told one of the children. They would wonder where it was he¡¯d gone. They would feel like he¡¯d abandoned them, but he¡¯d taken care of them for as long as he could, and he could not resist the way the Moon Goddess¡¯s plea tugged at his soul.

    Then, without even so much as a backward glance at the house, he took a deep breath and started to chant. Despite its risks, teleportation was a relatively straightforward spell, when used as intended. This, though, was longer and more complicated. It took time to gather this much power. One could not hope to cross vast distances without proper preparation.

    So, even though he knew that it was impossible, he let the essence build inside of him for several minutes. He continued until his body started to hum with barely suppressed power, and the air around him started to twinkle with motes of essence. Only then, when he could handle no more did he release the spell.

    The world jerked hard immediately. The sensation of motion was so violent that the battered old copy of the Book of Ways that he¡¯d been holding fell into the field as a spasm of shock wracked his body. He couldn¡¯t worry about that, though. Instead, he could only focus on the destination.

    When a mage teleported, technically he didn¡¯t move. It was the world that moved around him. Still, that knowledge wasn¡¯t enough to stop him from feeling like he was soaring into the night sky. He was flying skyward in a journey that could not end well, but that did not stop him from moving forward like an arrow from Cynara¡¯s bow.

    Eventually, though, just like an arrow, he slowly lost speed, and hovered there, lost in the darkness between heaven and earth. Unlike the proverbial arrow, though, he would never return to earth and dash himself to pieces against the ground far below. Instead, he would simply be lost between places. At least, he would be, if not for a lifeline from the Goddess.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    When last they¡¯d met in the inbetween he was in the darkness beneath the ground, and though her hand glowed so brightly it was hard to appreciate her beauty, it was smooth to the touch. This time though, it was the hand of a mother, or a grandmother, care worn with age, and the pull he felt as she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward was weaker than it had been before.

    Weaker was a relative word, though. After a few seconds he was soaring almost as fast as he¡¯d been at the start, and the distant, blurring stars were soaring by him like a swarm of myopic fireflies. Still, he kept going further and further away.

    Honestly, he never dreamed the moon was this far away. He¡¯d expected that his leap into the void would have gotten him most of the way there, but it did not. Instead, for minute after minutes he was dragged skyward, until the dark of the moon blotted out everything, and he was in the void once more.

    Then, just as quickly as his journey started, it stopped, and he was standing there amongst the ruins of some giant work of cyclopian architecture, with only Lunaris¡¯s fading light to hold back whatever it was lurking in the squirming shadows. And he was holding her hand. He was holding the Goddess¡¯s hand while she regarded him with faint amusement.

    He pulled his hand away like he¡¯d been scalded, and bowed as low as he could. ¡°My lady,¡± he said, not sure how one addressed a divinity. ¡°I¡­ your, uhmm¡ª¡±

    She dismissed him. ¡°Please,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s no time for that. There are more important things right now than stuffy formalities.¡±

    ¡°Tell me what you need then,¡± Jordan said, rising.

    ¡°I need you to kill me,¡± she said, producing a silvery knife from seemingly nowhere. ¡°Before it wins.¡±

    As she spoke the word ¡®it¡¯, she nodded to the dark, to where the squirming shadows lay. For just a moment, her light flared bright enough that even his failing vision gave him a pretty good idea of the throbbing, serpentine nightmares that lay beyond her dim ring of light.

    ¡°Kill you?¡± he repeatedly, dumbly, as he took the knife and looked at it. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because sometimes, that is the way that my divinity is passed, from person to person, in a chain that goes back to the very beginning of these terrible cycles,¡± she answered with a wan smile. ¡°and if the Lich¡¯s cancerous servant is the one to strike me down¡­ well, there is no telling what darkness it will unleash. It will snuff out the stars and open the floodgates, which will almost certainly wash the world away.¡±

    As she spoke, he gazed up into the night sky and saw an orb that was much like the moon used to be, only it was colored in greens and blues. Is that the world? He wondered. Is that where I was? It looked so tiny and distant.

    He didn¡¯t ask about that, though. Instead, noticing that the ring on light that the two of them stood in had gotten slightly smaller he asked, ¡°Why me? I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m not even a full mage. It should have been Taz. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°That man was a monster as you well know,¡± she chided him. ¡°I only held out as long as I did because I knew that the oath I swore so long ago to keep him from making more mischief would be absolved by his death. No, Jordan Sedgim, you are not much as a mage, it¡¯s true. I wasn¡¯t either, though, when I was chosen. You are a good man, though, and you saved those children even though no one forced you to. That is all that matters to me. You¡¯ll figure everything else, in time.¡±

    Her words made sense, but they did nothing to address the real concern. That concern was overridden by the darkness that was crawling every closer. He couldn¡¯t make out the details, but he could see the surface of the moon bubbling beneath their feet as something grew there, or perhaps attempted to burrow to the surface.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she said, trying her best to smile. ¡°The boy already has his blade, and the shadows grow overconfident. You will see everything when the moon is whole once more. It is all falling into place¡±

    In the end, Jordan lacked the steel to plunge the knife into the dying woman¡¯s heart. He simply couldn¡¯t do it. All he could manage to do was hold the blade steady while she stepped forward and did it herself, spilling red blood all over her fine white dress.

    Jordan suppressed the urge to apologize. Whether he was apologizing for what he was doing or wasn¡¯t doing, though, he wasn¡¯t sure. In that tense silence, though, he could see the shapes in the dark start to wither and die, and he could feel a terrible power flowing from the blade that held the knife into him.

    It started slowly, but as Lunaris¡¯s eyes closed, and she began to fade away like a ghost, that trickle became a flood. Soon it was a dozen times more overwhelming than the essence he¡¯d gathered for his most recent teleportation spell. It wasn¡¯t overflowing, though. It was consuming him. He was on fire, and as he started screaming in agony, he knew that it was his humanity that was burning away.

    Knowing didn¡¯t stop him from blazing white brightly enough that it drove back the things that lurked in the darkness. No, it¡¯s not driving them back, he realized. It¡¯s erasing them.

    Unmaking them was probably a better word, but it only occurred to him after he watched the toppled stones of the coliseum fade away, to be replaced by a structure that was probably what it looked like before the collapse. Once he looked beyond himself, though, he found it hard to return to his burning body. Instead, his view spiraled further and further out.

    The moon itself was being reborn, and though the stars themselves were not brightening, their patterns were becoming clearer to him by the minute. So were the horrible things that they were holding back, in the darkness beyond that vast and complicated net. Jordan turned away from all of that, and looked instead back to the world he¡¯d left behind. He didn¡¯t understand any of what was happening. Taz might have been a monster, but he was a monster that had trained for lifetimes to be ready for this. Jordan was just the third son of a minor house that knew enough to cast a few spells.

    I was a man, he corrected himself.

    He definitely didn¡¯t suffer from that limitation anymore. That was the reason he could look down on the world beneath him with such clarity that he could see the children out with lanterns now looking for him, and why he could see Leo standing in the surf talking with a ghostly dragon while he held a gleaming sword in his hand.

    It was all too much to take in, and as soon as he tried to study the blurry vision in more detail a wave of dizziness took him and he pulled back showing him the wider view, and the way that the entire region was polluted by darkness so badly, that not even his bright, clear moonlight could do much to penetrate the fog.

    That¡¯s because the moon is not the sun, he reminded himself with something he¡¯d never heard before, as if it was something he¡¯d known forever. The Sun¡¯s job is to burn away the dark, and mine is to hold back the night.

    With some reluctance, he turned away from the world and back toward the net of constellations that kept the monsters of the beyond at bay. He needed to figure all of this out, and that was the first place he needed to start.

    In the end, the only evidence that anyone would find when they looked for him outside later that night was the book of ways lying in the dirt where he¡¯d dropped it. That, and a bright full moon hanging in the sky where the dark and battered one had been earlier that evening. Lunaris was dead, and for now at least, Jordan would reign in her place.

    I¡¯m going to need to come up with a better name before I get any priests or whatever, he thought in embarrassment. Who ever heard of a God named Jordan?

 Ch. 179 - Catching the Scent

    The Queen of Thorns loved nothing more than to hunt and prowl in the woods. She did it almost every night without attempts to slack or shirk, and she regularly brought her lord fresh corpses and carcasses to keep its favor. Somehow, though, despite that, the dread Lich still saw fit to ruin her joy by saddling her with a new responsibility.

    ¡°But I don¡¯t need help,¡± she protested. ¡°Have I not bested every small God and Goddess that I have caught the scent of?¡±

    ¡°You have,¡± the Lich agreed. ¡°This is not a punishment, though it can be if you wish it. It is exactly as you said. I need to catch the scent of something, but know not where it is.¡±

    ¡°But I can¡ª¡± she started to protest.

    ¡°Silence!¡± the Lich roared through her mind, making the Queen of Thorns tremble as the power of that command froze every part of her being. She felt it briefly sift through her soul, looking for signs of disloyalty before it continued to speak.¡°This is an old grave from centuries past. I must find it, and so I will add it to your endless hunt.¡±

    The dark Goddess knew better than to question the darkness roiling in her mind a second time. Instead, she merely nodded and answered, ¡°Whatever it is you require, I shall do.¡±

    The Lich went on at length after that, explaining the worm to her in broad strokes and how it expected it to be some ancient god of decay or death that it wished to harvest and dissect. That was also when it explained the nature of the hound to her and how he¡¯d vivisected to better understand it before releasing it into her service.

    ¡°It will obey you in all things,¡± the Lich promised her, ¡°But never remove its collar. It is a powerful, single-minded thing, and it will rip you to shreds should you give it the chance.¡±

    The Queen of Thrones doubted that as she eyed the gaunt and mangy, pony-sized wolf, but it had only taken a couple of weeks in the nighttime forests with it to see that there might be some truth to it. The thing was a monster that could rip the throat out of anything they encountered and had a nose sharp enough to hunt down anything she cared to name.

    Neither of those frightened her. It was the way it looked at her, with a glimmer of malicious intelligence, that made her worry about what it might be scheming or planning. The Lich had told her it was no smarter than an animal, but she¡¯d fought and devoured almost every animal that the forests had to offer her at this point, and none of them looked at her like this, no matter what form she took.

    None of this was enough to stop her from doing what she had been created for; she just enjoyed it less now. Bloodshed was always fun for her. She enjoyed ripping her pretty to pieces when she was allowed to do so, but even more than that, she enjoyed stalking and hunting her prey for nights at a time before she attacked it to truly understand it.

    That was impossible with this giant wolf in tow. It was a giant ball of rage and violence that never failed to charge loudly through the underbrush, baying for blood. Its prey wouldn''t get away very often, but it was exhausting work that could be handled much more elegantly.

    Despite that, they were still largely successful. Together, over the next few months, they brought down small groups and large game, but there was no joy in it. It had become work instead of pleasure, and her trusty hound made short work of even notoriously difficult-to-kill beasts like hydras with their nearly infinite capacity for regeneration.

    Of course, there were some monsters that tested the hound¡¯s limits as well. The Lich had told her that the thing could not be killed, but on a day when they were ambushed by a hunting party made up of a vengeful goddess and a band of angry forest children armed with those terrible blows, the Queen of Thorns was fairly certain that the thing was dead, at least for a day or two.

    That was bound to happen eventually, since it had sense of stealth or timing. The beast rampaged everywhere that it went like a force of nature, but the Queen of Thorns didn¡¯t mind. She just melted into the foliage and hunted them one at a time until the only living things left in that piney wilderness were small birds chirping pleasantly away while she tried to decide what to do with the beast.

    The answer, of course, turned out to be vast quantities of blood. It healed or perhaps revived nicely after that. She wasn¡¯t sure which.

    After that, she stayed away from the forest for a while, instead leading the things through swamps and anywhere else she could think of that a worm might like to be. She was desperate to get rid of this burden and return to the life she¡¯d had until she¡¯d been saddled with it.

    However, they found no trace of whatever it was the Lich was looking for. Not until one day when they were crossing a particularly rugged section of foothills on the north side of the Wyrmspires. The two of them were there in search of fresh hunting grounds where the denizens wouldn¡¯t be expecting them enough to set an ambush, when suddenly the hound stood stock still, sniffing the air.

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    The Goddess paused, unsure of what had happened. Did it sense another trap? She wondered.

    However, before she could even attempt to draw that information out of the beast in its limited way, it bounded off into the night. The Queen of Thorns let her legs grow longer so that she could stride ever further in an attempt to keep up with the thing¡¯s desperate sprint as it charged through the hills, but eventually, she was forced to transform into a cat just to keep up.

    When it reached the Barrows, the only reason it stopped was because she yelled out, ¡°Freezzze¡­¡± in a strangled voice that was more of a cat screech than human words.

    Still, it chaffed at her command, and for the first time since the Lich had assigned her this monster, it tried to disobey her. It struggled at its collar and tried to push forward the last few feet to what it had found. It even growled at her, but in the end, there was nothing it could do. Their Master¡¯s magic was much too strong.

    She didn¡¯t know what it was the thing had found, but there was no way she was going to let it go even one step further before she found out. That would have to wait until she recovered from the unexpected exertion, though. She took a few minutes to catch her breath and watch her hound¡¯s lungs heave like it expected to start breathing fire at any moment. They¡¯d eaten up miles in only a few minutes, and both of them were spent.

    When the Goddess recovered, she asked, ¡°What is it? What¡¯s down there? Is it the worm our Master seeks?¡±

    The hound didn¡¯t answer. It couldn¡¯t, but it barked as it pawed the ground restlessly in a way that she read as restless. Honestly, despite its strange bestial intelligence, that was as close as she¡¯d seen it come to warning her so far.

    Once she walked past it and started to descend into the gaping doorway, it began to bark and growl more loudly. Was it concerned about her? Was it dangerous down here?

    She didn¡¯t know, but it didn¡¯t matter to her. There were few things in this world more dangerous than her, and to prove the point, the claws on all six of her hands grew as she descended the stairs, and she traced the stone with them, just loudly enough to let whatever was down here know that she was coming.

    Sadly, the effort at intimidation was wasted. The tomb, or whatever it had been once, was empty. Worse, it was ransacked. Something had been here once, but the sarcophagus was broken on the floor, and the bodies in the alcoves had been desecrated and smashed. Whatever it was the Lich had been looking for was probably long gone.

    The Goddess of Thorns sighed. Now, she would never be rid of that beast.

    She stood there for several moments, studying the scene. If the hound outside wasn¡¯t still baying and desperately howling like it had chased the fox back to its lair, she wouldn¡¯t have given this place a second look. It had obviously been sacked and looted by men long ago. Still, the beast seemed certain, so she would look harder.

    The Queen of Thorns reached out to the plants that had taken root in the cracks between the stones that made up the floor, the molds and fungus that blossomed in the corners, and the slime in the areas nearest the door where water pooled. Then, when she had collected her audience, she began to hum a melody.

    It was a sad song, and she¡¯d long since forgotten the words. She wasn¡¯t even sure which part of her had known it at first. Still, even so, the leaves and the mushrooms began to sway slowly in time to it.

    Then, slowly, they grew and blossomed, sending little roots and tendrils wherever they could, searching for something that didn¡¯t make sense. This was a slow process, for the dance of a plant was a very sedate thing. Even so, almost an hour after she started, a climbing vine on a wall near the far end of the tomb found something.

    The Queen of Thrones walked to it specifically, and when she reached it, she placed three of her hands on it and began to hum louder. The effect was immediate. Plants might be slow to dance, but they were fast to grow, and as she filled it with life energy, it spidered across the wall, sending tendrils deep enough to make the outline of the hidden door unmistakable. Once she had that, she started to rip it apart with her bare hands, which didn¡¯t take long, considering how old the stones were and how rotten the mortar had become.

    The door revealed a set of stairs descending into the darkness. She strode down them fearlessly, though she had no idea what to expect. What she found, though, was nothing special. It was simply proof that whoever had built this tomb had been smart enough to create a decoy. That the chambers above had contained a false tomb and treasures was a little strange.

    Surely the treasures should have been down here, she thought briefly before discarding the thought. Humans didn¡¯t have to make sense. That was what separated them from the animals.

    The room here was ancient and dusty, but it was still possible to read the carvings, and the squiggly lines that were probably worms combined with the carvings of skulls and starving me made it very clear that something terrible had been buried here. More importantly, though, there was every indication that this might, in fact, be what the Lich had sought for so long.

    When she reached the casket and saw it was still sealed with a bead of lustrous lead and runes that were well beyond her comprehension, she stopped. This part of the tomb was still undisturbed, unlike everything else she¡¯d seen so far, and she was almost certain that her master would flay her until she was nothing but shredded leaves and scraps of flesh if she screwed this up. This was what it wanted, and this is what it would get.

    The dark Goddess carefully walked back the way she came, careful not to step anywhere she hadn¡¯t already stepped, and then when she reached the area that had already been ransacked, she turned and exited the ancient mound to where the hound still paced outside in agitation.

    She ignored how badly it wanted to slip the leash and go inside. Instead, it would find the closest blackbird and let the Lich know. Then perhaps it might reward her by freeing her from this slavering beast so she could go back to the joy of prowling the wild places on her own once more.

 Ch. 180 - Setting the Table

    Without checking the Skoeticnomikos, Tenebroum was uncertain exactly how many years it had labored to erode the bulwark that was the All-Father. The God was a craggy edifice of pure tradition and willpower, so any normal effort to do what the Lich was doing might well take a millennium. It was certain its plans would come to fruition much faster.

    Gods weren¡¯t immortal, though. Tenebroum had proved that already, and this had already been going on for more than a decade, so it was sure that it would bear fruit soon. Of course, it had believed the same thing about that cursed Lunaris until recently, it thought with rising bitterness.

    Then, just like that, his whole plan had been apparently undone, and she was whole once more. The moon had apparently recovered seemingly overnight from the terrible poison it had injected her with. Its Queen of Thorns could devour a thousand lesser nature goddesses, and it wouldn¡¯t be worth half what it might have been to bring the moon down. So, now, the Lich was redoubling its efforts. It would not allow another of these troublesome gods to slip through its fingers.

    So, now, instead of basking in the prayers of its worshipers and priests as it had done while it watched her slowly fade to nothing, it stormed around the catacombs at the heart of its lair like a dark storm, causing terror and exaltation in its worshipers by turns. Now, it was focused. Now, it was monitoring the progress of every major effort. The Lich sent messengers to every corner of its dark empire with demands for updates and new, more ambitious orders. The Lich did not know what happened, but it would find a way to have its revenge.

    The only plan that had born fruit, in recent memory, were the efforts of its huntress and hound. They had located what was very probably the third part of this dark godling it had sought for so long. That was tantalizing, and Tenebroum was sure that it would learn much before it devoured them.

    The find was being transported night by night under guard. So, it would yet be weeks before the seal sarcophagus arrived, but that was acceptable.

    The Lich would use that time to prepare a secure area for study. It was imperative that it understand those three strange divinities and the way that their broken souls fit together. That said, it was equally imperative that they not join together until or unless it decided that was the correct move. Layers of binding runes and wards would be prepared. Each cell would be ringed with all the names it knew for these little monsters so that it could experiment on them as long as it wanted.

    Until that good news was received, though, things had been quiet. The Voice of Reason was still on her way back south and had claimed a new island of primitive worshipers for its growing religion, and its armies to the north were making only limited headway against the humans they faced off against there. It would seem that they learned from the slaughter of their cousins to the south. There had not yet been any reports of light-eyed Templars, but the men of the north had their own magics that were proving to be quite formidable. Tenebroum was looking forward to learning those as well.

    None of that was as important as the news that the All-Father was on the verge of cracking, though. That report had caused it to drop everything and rush to the giant storehouse where it kept the trove of dwarven artifacts that it had sacked and stolen during the endless guerilla wars that Krulm¡¯venor was engaged in.

    In almost all cases, weapons, armor, and jewelry were melted down and put to work in other, more important projects. That was both because they had no apparent effect on the God and because it could get such rare metals nowhere else. Mithril was scarce, even to a dwarf, but their tombs were full of the stuff, and the Lich would put it all to use.

    The crystalline skulls of the honored dead, though, those had a higher purpose, and of the hundreds of thousands of such things it had stolen so far, nearly a hundred thousand had been tainted and then placed in the ever-growing cathedral that Verdein had been constructing for some time now.

    It wasn¡¯t complete. In fact, it might never be complete, but that didn¡¯t stop it from being ready for its purpose. Already almost fifty thousand skulls had been added to the niches carved into place. That number would only grow over time, but the summoning circle that was its primary focus had long since been completed. It had to be; the Lich had long been ready to face the All-Father, but soon the All-Father would be ready as well.

    Still, even incomplete, the thing was a sight to behold. It was a giant cylinder a dozen stories tall, built to mock Mourn-den, and other smaller ossuaries that the dwarves had built over the centuries. Hundreds of thousand eyeless skulls would stare down at a broken anvil in the center. That would be the only monument to the dwarves left when its servant had finished scourging them from the underworld.

    Monument or not, though, each soul that the Lich tainted was a drop of poison in the blood of the All-Father, and though dwarves could resist poison better than anyone, they were not immune.

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    In some way, it had yet to fully understand the souls of the dead dwarves still existed in both their remains and their God. It was a duality that should have made the God even more powerful. Tenebroum had used such techniques for the ring that bound its power to the world like a scar. Should it even be defeated on the battlefield, the magics that swirled thickly in those bloody passages would birth it once more.

    Well, some version of it at least. The Lich did not like to contemplate the possibility. It felt too much like a pretender rising up to take its throne. It would prefer that a Tenebroum be the one to conquer the world, of course, but in reality, it would accept no one else.

    That duality did not strengthen the dwarven God as it strengthened Tenebroum, though, because it left pieces of itself scattered across the world in a way that anyone might take them. This gave the dwarven deity a terrible weakness. Anywhere those remains were scattered around haphazardly, they created a terrible vulnerability.

    Now, after tirelessly exploiting that vulnerability with the souls of goblins and profane symbols, things were finally bearing fruit. Now, some of the skulls they had not yet defiled were already found dim and damaged in the piles. The damage that its servants had been causing for so long was adding up, and every day, the divinity was getting closer and closer to collapse. Tenebroum could feel it.

    That was why it was unwilling to slow or slacken. Instead, it sent more wraiths to probe the Iron City for weaknesses and ways in even as it devoted more servants to the cause of inflicting a death by a hundred thousand cuts on its enemy.

    The dwarves would have certainly called it dishonorable. In fact, they did, often. The spirits that were bound to the horrible tasks wailed and chaffed against their task, the same way that Krulm¡¯venor had early on. They cursed the Lich for making them do this, and they swore that it would be defeated. It made no effort to silence these complaints. It enjoyed them. The only thing sweeter than the prayers of the devout were the curses of the suffering, and it soaked them all in.

    None of that stopped their busy hands from doing an excellent job of defaming and tormenting their elders who still dwelled within their God. Now, though, the work was spreading. The curses were appearing on skulls that had not yet been intentionally tainted, which meant that the cracks it had long sought to create in the armored edifice of dwarven faith were spreading on their own. Things like this tended not to move all for a long time before moving suddenly and sharply, like an avalanche.

    Tenebroum no longer restlessly passed through its lair looking for answers regarding the moon or status updates for other projects. Instead, it haunted those dark and spacious rooms, watching for more signs of stress that indicated that its long-planned schism was imminent.

    The avatars of the All-Father had taken the field on more than one occasion. They were mighty if temporary things. Soon, though, that cosmic craftsman wouldn¡¯t have enough power to enchant a sword or an axe, let alone channel a spell like that to his priests.

    For weeks, the only thing that it did beyond lurk and watch was to order Krulm¡¯venor to prepare to assault the Iron City itself. Such an attack would be suicide, even for its fire godling. The same might be true if it sent a dozen armies, though. The giant city buried hundreds of feet below the ground was a fortress that was utterly immune to any conventional attack it could think of. That was why it was going to kill their God to distract them.

    It was distracted by these thoughts when it happened, but only for a moment. The first indication that something monumental was about to happen was the way the skulls began to dim in unison. Whole sections of the piles began to flicker and fade out as one. Then the screaming started.

    Tenebroum had never wondered what half a million crystalline voices screaming out in pain would sound like, but now it knew. The Lich instantly ordered its terrible tome to document that in musical notation as best it could. Suddenly, High Priest Verdenin¡¯s cathedral would have another use now, once its primary use was completed. They would put on an opera voiced solely by the dead: The Death of the All-Father.

    For generations, dwarven society had been unified by a single idea. There was only one way to live a good life. There was only one way to contribute and be remembered, and anything less fell short of that idea and, therefore, of contributing to divinity. What the Lich had done was shatter that. Now, their God was splintering under the weight of darkness and insanity it was directing into the dwarven afterlife, and it doubted very much that their culture would survive any more than their God would.

    . . .

    Krulm¡¯venor had crouched in the cramped airshaft a dozen feet above the market street for weeks now, basically unmoving. He didn¡¯t mind that. He had found a way into the city without drawing the Lich¡¯s attention, and he had waited for further orders.

    It was as pleasant a command as he¡¯d had in years. For the first time in a very long time, the normal noises of a dwarven city were enough to block out all the terrible whispers and deranged howls that echoed through his soul.

    The sound of merchants hawking their wares and housewives haggling for every last copper was a balm to his soul. He knew he would have to move when the ratcatchers came through this area or when the Lich gave its command, but for now, he just lay there, staring out of the iron-barred grate at the street far below him, idly fidgeting with that damn button as he tried to remember what it had meant to be a dwarf.

    He might have done that forever, but when the Lich whispered to him to be ready to begin his assault, he knew that perfect moment was all but over. What he did not expect, though, was for the world to go insane.

 Ch. 181 - Just an Appetizer

    When the greyhaired woman with a hairstyle more elaborate than most men¡¯s beards stabbed the merchant in the eye over a disagreement about the ripeness of the mossfruits she was buying, Krulm¡¯venor didn¡¯t notice until the man started to scream. She¡¯d done it so normally and with such calm that his eyes had simply slid over the act as another market transaction in this place. He had been lulled into complacency by the normal rhythms of dwarven society as he studied this small part of Hammerheim and waited for his time to strike.

    From the moment the Lich had whispered, ¡°The time is coming, be ready,¡± Krulm¡¯venor had been ready. He had to be. If he drifted off too far, his bones would start to heat as a warning of the retribution that would follow.

    Still, a coiled spring could stay coiled only so long, and after three days of watching, ready to rip open the grate and pounce on the unsuspecting dwarves below, everything started to blur together until suddenly, it didn¡¯t. After that stabbing, the guards were called, and the matron was taken away, but soon after that, there was the sounds of a scuffle somewhere out of sight and, later, the smell of something burning.

    Something is wrong, the fire spirit thought to himself. The voices in his head threw out a dozen different things that it might be, but their conclusion was just the opposite. Something was very right, and soon, they would get to feast.

    Some faint strain of madness had gripped the city of Hammerheim, and Krulm¡¯venor wasn¡¯t sure quite what to do. This wasn¡¯t enough to justify an attack yet, but it also wasn¡¯t something he should just watch, was it? For a while, things almost got back to normal. Then, he heard the bells begin to toll in the distance. First, it was from a single watch post, and then another and another picked up the brassy, methodical rhythm.

    It was a continuous toll. That was the signal to take shelter and that the city was under attack. That couldn¡¯t be the case, though. Did the Lich send another army to assist me? Krulm¡¯venor wondered. That didn¡¯t make sense, but given the things that its master could do with the shadowy portals this far beneath the ground, it wasn¡¯t impossible.

    The fire spirit watched for a few more minutes before he decided there was no attack. Not yet. Did they discover my position? Were they warned? Krulm¡¯venor worried.

    He¡¯d done nothing to give himself away, nor would he now, but still, at this point, it was undeniable that something was off. Dwarves would not ring the alarm for no reason.

    Even so, he hesitated, more confused than concerned. It would take more than whatever this something was to give him a chance in hell of taking down the dwarvish capital. Here, there were not only armies of the most well-equipped dwarves in the world, but there were other more dangerous enemies, too. There were almost certainly a few high priests of the All-Father, as well as a full-blown forge father.

    Such things were roughly equivalent to what the humans called small gods. That is what Krulm¡¯venor had been so long ago before his city had fallen to the shadows and he¡¯d cowardly fled. He knew that now, but only intellectually. The only memories he had of the experience were blurry moments of pride and shame.

    No matter what he remembered or didn¡¯t, he knew that no amount of fire would do much against a god who was made of fire, though, even a small one. It had tried to explain this to the Lich, but it had ignored Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s council. It always did.

    Why would a master listen to their hound, he thought sullenly before he berated himself for that moment of weakness. Let that monster ignore good council. Maybe then the All-Father will crush him and me both.

    The godling¡¯s thoughts warred in his head, which succeeded in keeping the chatter and the screams of the goblins down to a dull roar, at least, until he next heard the sounds of conflict. This wasn¡¯t something like a riot, though. This time, he could very clearly hear the clash of steel, and it was getting closer.

    The next group he saw, judging by their colors, were two different clans fighting with each other. They were obviously trying to settle some sort of grudge, but when members of the city guard tried to intervene, both groups turned and beat them back before they continued.

    For a moment, he considered that this might be a coup of a sort. Someone might be trying to overthrow the King. That could explain this much chaos. The only thing that made him doubt that was the viciousness of the insults that were being tossed back and forth. This was clearly personal.

    Krulm¡¯venor still knew that blood feuds and grudges were part of dwarven culture on some level, but mass combat and blood in the streets struck him as uncommon. There was nothing honorable about shedding dwarven blood in the streets. It was only by watching these various scuffles and beefs that often left at least one body in the streets that he understood why this seemed familiar, though.

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    ¡°Goblins,¡± he breathed. ¡°They¡¯re acting like thrice damned goblins.¡±

    Just those words were enough to rile up the pests inside him, and Krulm¡¯venor had to focus to mute the sound of them baying for blood. He had no idea how one could take the highest tier of dwarven culture and turn it into this, but the Lich, certainly.

    Why else would it have told him to be ready? It had poisoned the Oroza and every other thing that it had laid its cold dead hand on, so why not the soul of the whole dwarven race?

    Does that mean the bastard tainted the All-Father? Krulm¡¯venor wondered, in shock. He was the very wellspring of the dwarven soul, but somehow, that didn¡¯t seem possible.

    Krulm¡¯venor didn¡¯t understand it. In fact, he didn¡¯t try. Instead, he just got angry. He¡¯d been poisoned by the Lich¡¯s magic for decades now, but somehow the awful creature had managed to do the same thing to the rest of his people? It was monstrous and utterly unforgivable.

    He wasn¡¯t sure if this was the right time to strike, but he no longer cared. For once, he didn¡¯t want to die or throw his life away against an impossible opponent. Instead, he wanted to burn it all down. He would rather that there be no dwarves at all than dwarves that behaved like this.

    As these awful thoughts chased each other in circles, Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s grip on the bars of the grate he was crouched behind only grew tighter and hotter. As he watched the madness escalate below, the bars grew red-hot until they were easy to bend and pull up out of the way. Someone paying attention might have noticed such a thing. They might have noticed his suddenly bright blue eyes that were full of roaring flames.

    They didn¡¯t, though. There was no one left in the Iron City to notice anything that was out of the ordinary because there was nothing ordinary to compare it to. The world had gone mad.

    As Krulm¡¯venor fell twenty feet from his hiding place to the crowded streets, he looked out over the city for the last time with dwarvish eyes. He saw the central pillar, which was both the tremendous structure that held up the giant cavern that housed the Iron City, as well as the imperial palace, which had been hollowed out over the course of centuries. It might have dwarfed the other stalagmite and stalactite towers that had also been turned into buildings on both the ceiling and the floor, but it did nothing to diminish the beauty of the scene. He was struck by it and would have cried tears of joy if he¡¯d been capable of such a thing anymore.

    He might have fallen from that vent as a dwarf, but when he landed in the crowded, bloody street below, it was as something else. He wasn¡¯t even a single dwarf anymore. He was two. He was two skeletons, burning with blue fire, and by the time he started tearing his way through the crowd, he¡¯d increased to four. Even as he started tearing into dwarves, his bloodlust did not sate his anger. He was still capable of thinking, and everything he thought was awful. So, he became eight and then sixteen in his bid to become a mob rather than a man, or whatever it was he was now.

    Every few seconds, the number of burning skeletons doubled, but strangely, this still wasn¡¯t enough to stop the clans from fighting each other. Copies of him spread up and down the street and forced their way into the homes of dwarves, whether they¡¯d been smart enough to bar them or not. Wood could not keep him out, and metal only lasted a little longer.

    In less than a minute, there were over a hundred of him, and it was only then that Krulm¡¯venor was spread so thin that he no longer cared. The chorus of screeching in his collective skulls had finally grown loud enough to cover up both his sense of self-loathing at what he was doing and his anger that he had to.

    At that point, he was a kaleidoscope of violence. He was spread so thin that it was becoming hard to identify with anybody for more than a few seconds. Those that were feasting on fresh kills and bathing in warm, coppery blood drew its attention the most often, but each new scream drew its mind somewhere else.

    This wasn¡¯t enough, though. The alarm was still ringing, but since it had lost none of its terrible doppelg?ngers, there was no reason to think it was because of him. So, he continued to fan out, and the mob continued to expand, devouring whole neighborhoods like locusts in minutes and leaving a trail of burning buildings in their wake.

    Somewhere past two hundred copies of itself, it was starting to lose any sense of self at all. It was no longer a crowd. It was just a hungry bonfire, and it saw the progress it was making only in a series of images that flashed through its mind before they went up in smoke. The only thing that would bring it to the level of consciousness was when one of its bodies was struck down by the guards. That pain was enough to make Krulm¡¯venor focus, but only for a moment before it drifted off again.

    They were everywhere now, working in tight formations and only occasionally collapsing into berserk rages that caused their lines to fall apart in curtains of fire. The dwarves were losing. There was no excuse for it, but they were losing, and in the rare moments they weren¡¯t, and some group of dwarfs stood up to the mob as heroically as all of them ought to, the army of flaming skeletons either surrounded them or fled and pivoted somewhere else, depending on their size.

    Hammerheim was burning. There were fires in the upper city and the lower city now, but it was burning worst where Krulm¡¯venor was raging. It was a grand view, especially when viewed from all angles through more than four hundred eyes, but Krulm¡¯venor no longer had the mind to appreciate it. To him, it was all just fuel for his fire now, and beautiful temples were burned just as thoroughly as ugly warehouses.

    Aesthetics didn¡¯t matter to an army of deathless, bloodthirsty goblins. All that mattered was death and destruction, and today, they experienced exactly that beyond their wildest dreams.

 Ch. 182 - Main Course

    When the city was burning, and chaos was at its peak, Tenebroum left the warehouse where skulls flickered and screamed and moved to a body that it had specifically built to fight the dwarven God. Then it walked to the cathedral, which would hopefully become their battleground, and began to summon the All-Father.

    It enjoyed the pain and death that Krulm¡¯venor was harvesting, of course, especially with the overtones of fear and madness that pervaded the normally muted dwarven psyche. For so long, the dwarves of Hammerheim had been entirely immune to the rise and fall of the world around them. Even the troubles of other cities barely reached their stout iron walls. The Lich could have basked in that shock and fear all day, but if it did, it would have missed this window of opportunity to strike at their God while he was weak enough to kill but strong enough to answer a challenge.

    The body that Tenebroum had built for the occasion was a giant compared to the forms it normally wore and only barely fit down the hallway that led to the cathedral. The form that Lich had chosen was as close to the true form of the All-Father as it could find, based on the iconography of the dwarven religion. Unfortunately, this arrangement limited it to just four real limbs, but it would make due. It was worth it to mock the proud God with his own face.

    The real only difference, beyond small spikes and other stylistic elements along with the layers of intensive enchantments, was the small third arm built into the chest that could move the outlandishly sized plate mail beard from side to side as a sort of auxiliary shield. If the Lich was going to waste so much Mithril and steel, having such an affectation constructed, it might as well put it to use.

    Though it was constructed solely of materials that had been gathered from dwarven heroes, that would have been impossible for most to notice, as every piece had been melted down and recast into something new in case the All-Father had some unknown hold on the original. It would have been terribly ironic if Tenebroum lost this fight because of that kind of overconfidence, in the same way, that the All-Father¡¯s avatar had lost their first fight because he thought to use the ghosts of the dead to face the Lich.

    Tenebroum was not so foolish as to do that. Even so, despite using dwarven forgewights to do the work, it was somewhat inferior to the original. There was just something about dwarven craftsmanship that could not be replicated by the hands of the unwilling dead, but hopefully, Tenebroum could pry those secrets loose today.

    Fortunately, the Lich had access to magic that the dwarves never would. They might have their runes, but that was only the smallest part of the greater magical whole, and when it came to this armored form, not a single inch was wasted on the inside or outside. Those protective spells, along with the liquid metal bubbling away in the center of this construct¡¯s hollow core, would allow it to heal or at least cope with a significant amount of abuse.

    When it reached the iron-floored cathedral, the drudges were just finishing setting up the embalmed dwarven heads that were going to sing this spell into existence and exiting in a silent single file line. Dwarves had no talent for magic and certainly did not enjoy it but could be convinced to coax a spell into existence when they were forced to by a monster like him. Sadly, it expected most of them to spontaneously combust within minutes as a result of the unnatural act, but the Lich didn¡¯t care.

    Either it would get the attention of the dying God and put him out of his misery, or the All-Father would resist Tenebroum¡¯s call and bleed out in the dark. With the way the dwarves of capital were unraveling, it doubted very much that the deity had much longer to live in either case. Tenebroum could be sustained by devouring the souls of the dead, but none of its peers could say the same.

    Strictly speaking, the Lich did not know if this would work. It didn¡¯t have to work. The only hold that it had over the All-Father were the dead hostages. Still, Tenebroum thought that would be enough. On the broken anvil altar were arrayed an assortment of skulls from high priests that had been gathered and set aside for the purpose. It was powerful bait but not necessarily irresistible.

    The God could simply ignore it and watch as Tenebroum devoured these hallowed souls one at a time. That was why it had made the entire performance as Blasphemous as possible.

    Some of the corrupted skulls that looked down on the whole thing were already crying or babbling, but that only added to the atmosphere as eighty-eight deep base voices began to sing with notes so low that the iron floor beneath the Lich¡¯s steel feet vibrated. The spell that it had written for the occasion was composed in dwarvish so that the All-Father might hear the litany of curses and insults in the summoning.

    Dwarven honor and rage were a potent mixture, and the Lich was relying on the All-Father¡¯s injured pride as much as his desire to save the souls of his priests as the Lich as much as it lifted the first crystalline skull from the altar and dropped it into the giant steel mouth of this body. In a single gesture, it crushed the thing to dust, feeling the spirit briefly effervesce from the jagged bits of crystal as the dark portal opened in its designated spot, beckoning for the All-Father to join it.

    Stolen story; please report.

    The first dead dwarf, Thuall¡¯kenden, died at the ripe old age of 341. He played the harp and was survived by seven sons. He only had a chance to experience a few flickering moments from his deadly dull life before The Lich devoured his soul and stripped a lifetime of centuries down to a bit of essence. Jarden-bar didn¡¯t fair much better. He lived for 332 years and died the last member of his clan before he was laid to rest; his soul vanished into the ether in an instant as well.

    Several heads in its choir had already burned into cinders, and the wailing of the crystal skulls in the background had increased markedly because of all the light and activity, but still, the portal from the depths of the world to this cursed place stood unused. The Lich was just picking up a third skull to repeat the process, and the throbbing song was just reaching a crescendo when the All-Father finally stepped through the dark portal which was nothing less than an intentional rent in the inviolability of the area contained by the vast circle that surrounded blackwater, and showed himself.

    ¡°You called, and so I have come to end you,¡± the All-Father growled. ¡°Your insults and your depravity will not be allowed to stand!¡±

    As he spoke, a hammer with a red-hot head appeared in his hand, somewhere between a forgehammer and a warhammer. Tenebroum had expected that sort of weapon and was not surprised. What it was surprised by was that the All-Father was shorter than it expected. It had built this body to be the exact same height, based on religious texts, but instead of being a nine-foot-tall dwarf, he was closer to seven and a half. This unintentionally made the irony sweeter to the Lich, though, and it said nothing about it.

    Instead, the Lich said, ¡°Stand? You¡¯ve spent this whole time hiding on your knees, little God. Perhaps if you¡¯d joined the fight earlier on, the realms of men might have yet stood a chance.¡±

    Even if the God was shorter than the Lich had expected, he was still imposing. He glowed with a soft orange light and, worse, perfectly crafted armor. He might be as tall as a man, but he was as wide as any three of them and could easily have wrestled the Lich¡¯s juggernaut into submission.

    ¡°The realms of men can rise and fall without me and mine,¡± the dwarf grumbled as it regarded the Lich with burning eyes. ¡°They have fallen to dark before, and they will again. It is you who are transitory in all this, not I. Earth and steel will endure even your deprivations. Tradition is forever.¡±

    The Lich drew the battleaxe it had created for this occasion as it considered the God¡¯s words. ¡°When all is darkness, nothing will be allowed to rise again,¡± he said finally, annoyed that despite everything, the dwarf was still maintaining a solid sense of who he was. He flickered some moments, indicating there was some strain, but that was the only sign of problems. Given that the Lich had destroyed his entire world, he expected to see more damage, mentally and physically.

    ¡°You think you¡¯re the first one that ever tried that?¡± the All-Father laughed. ¡°You think you¡¯re the first villain to shatter some arrogant light god¡¯s chariot? I¡¯ve already fixed that and made the damn sword. My part in all this is done, or it would be if you would learn to leave well enough alone.¡±

    Chariot? Sword? The Lich¡¯s mind wondered about both of these things, but before it could consider that, or the implication that this had all happened before, the All-Father charged the Lich with all the force of an avalanche.

    The Cathedral of Skulls was built to be bait and insult, but it was also built to be an arena. That was the reason so much stone had been carved away and witchfire braziers burned in the background. It was also the reason why the floor had been plated in iron; because the blows that these two heavyweights could inflict on each other would shatter stone.

    There was no art to this combat. There was no dance of blades with elaborate dodges and parrying like it had once done with Siddrim and later with that cursed Templar. This was more brutal than that. This was a force of nature. It was an earthquake, given human form, and the Lich worried a little at the damage these terrible blows might do to the rest of its lair.

    That didn¡¯t stop him from taking the full force of the hammer on his left shoulder even as it brought its dark axe down on the dwarf god¡¯s head. The force of the axe was only enough to dent the helmet, but the shadowy edge that manifested along the edge of the blade a moment before impact was enough to split it, too, sending the piece of armor tumbling away, even though the head beneath it healed almost instantly. At the same time as it struck, though, Tenebroum''s body was thrown entirely off balance by the hammer blow, and despite the reinforced skeleton that had been created to hold the weight of this giant suit of armor, the clavicle still fractured. The Lich staggered back from the blow as the liquid metal flowed like mercury to repair the damage.

    What distracted Tenebroum wasn¡¯t the force or the pain, though; it was the strange magical interactions that had occurred at the moment of impact. Its construct had tried to harvest the heat of the hammer to power a few of its spells, but the hammer had likewise tried to do something with the metal, and as the traitorous substance responded to the call of the deity, several lines of inscriptions that powered those spells were erased, resulting in a spray of sparks rather than the magical aura of protection that should have been created.

    So even after all this time, he has some surprises too, the Lich mused. This was about to get very interesting.

 Ch. 183 â€“ Devoured Whole

    Blows hammered like metallic thunder as each of the two titans battled it out. The axe and hammer each inflicted grievous wounds that might have felled an army or crushed the walls of a mighty fortress. It wasn¡¯t enough to stop either the All-Father or Teneborum, though. Indeed, it wasn¡¯t even enough to knock them to the ground.

    The Lich¡¯s body was built to withstand anything, but without the protective magics it had been relying on. Eventually, the cracks grew too numerous to patch, and it was forced to abandon its shadow-edged battleaxe for a three-hundred-pound short sword and a shield that was more than two inches thick.

    It rang like a bell each time it was struck, which made the All-Father laugh. ¡°You thought that you could forge something capable of defeating me?¡±

    The Lich ignored the taunt and continued to hack and slash away at his opponent. The blade he¡¯d switched to was small compared to the body it currently wore, but it was still four feet long and tipped with sharpened kobold teeth. So, it had no problem slicing through the All-Father¡¯s formerly immaculate mithril chainmail, leaving it rent and tattered. The problem was that it didn¡¯t wound the God. He simply did not bleed.

    It was a different problem than the Lich was used to. Fortunately, the deity was slowly getting smaller. He¡¯d lost several inches of height since the fight had started, and though that wasn¡¯t so much, it meant that everything from his weight to his hammer had shrugged proportionally as well. That meant that the blows were noticeably lighter than they¡¯d been before.

    Still, the Lich was hardly in better shape. It had expected this to be easier. It had thought that the All-Father would be weaker and that its magics would make its armor much stronger. As it was, it was relying almost solely on the skill of the forgewights and the thickness of the metal in the armor they¡¯d crafted.

    Tenebroum could flee at any time, of course, as humiliating as that might be. It could abandon this body and fly from the room to grab another and another if that was what it took, but it was in no danger just now. The All-Father, on the other hand, did not have such an option.

    The portal he had come through to end the Lich had long since faded when more than half of the heads that had chanted it into existence had turned into particularly foul-smelling candles. A few still sang on as a sad sort of background music, but it was barely audible over the sound of clashing weapons and brutal blows.

    The dwarf lost another 6 inches before the Lich succeeded in striking a decisive blow, cutting off the dwarf¡¯s weapon hand at the wrist and sending the hammer tumbling through the room, end over end. It tumbled across the rusty floor, leaving a series of dents and scrapes, but when it hit the far wall, it embedded in it for a moment. They destroyed dozens of tainted skulls at the moment, but as it shook the cavern, hundreds more fell from shelves.

    When that happened, and they shattered on the rusted floor in a rain of glass that sounded almost musical to the Lich, it noticed the All-Father flinch in pain. Until that moment, the God had not uttered a word of complaint. No matter how deep the wound or how brutal the strike, the dwarf had simply healed and lashed out again. From time to time, he''d cursed Lich¡¯s name, but that was it.

    So he does have a weak spot, the Lich thought, stepping aside as the All-Father raised his newly regrown hand to catch the hammer that flew through the air to return to him.

    All this time, the Lich had been poisoning the souls that made the God up to try to weaken or even shatter him, but it was only after seeing that it realized it might have misunderstood the correct strategy. Should it have simply been shattering or draining the things all along?

    As the All-Father prepared to swing again, the Lich quickly took in the room. The skulls in their natural state glowed a very dim cyan, but the tainted ones that its minions had successfully poisoned might glow purple, deep blue, or even a dull olive green, depending on how tainted the soul inside that skull was after it was defiled.

    Only the souls that were snuffed out completely weren¡¯t glowing at all, and as Tenebroum looked around at the place, it decided there were definitely more dark alcoves than there had been before. The Lich let the braziers that had lit the room up until now gutter, so the well of souls it was in resembled a patchy night sky as the skulls which glowed brightest made constellations of different colors and sizes, save for the large dark spot where the All-Father¡¯s hammer had done such damage.

    ¡°You think that the darkness can save you from my hammer?¡± the All-Father yelled. He was the brightest light in the room now, and his blazing hammer burned like a torch as he struck the Lich¡¯s shield so hard that half of it bent inward, rendering it useless.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    The Lich tossed it aside and retreated to pick up the axe it had discarded earlier. It knew that dim light wouldn¡¯t hide it from the eyes of a dwarf. That would have been a ridiculous strategy. It just wanted to make what happened next more dramatic, to twist the knife that much harder.

    ¡°We are both familiar with the darkness,¡± the Lich agreed, lashing out with his axe, ¡°But that is not all we share.¡±

    ¡°I share nothing with you!¡± the All-Father proclaimed, launching a blow that the Lich actually managed to sidestep for the first time.

    As the God was getting smaller, he was getting slower. It doubted that he had expected a fight to be this prolonged. Honestly, the Lich was fairly certain he didn¡¯t fight often at all. He was made up of the souls of dwarves smart and tough enough to survive to old age; that meant each one of them knew how to fight, but it also meant that each one of them had stayed away from the battlefield long enough to live long lives.

    That went a long way to explaining why a wrecking ball with this sort of power was loathe to leave his forges and enter the fray. It also explained why he was about to lose.

    ¡°We are both gods. We are both made from souls,¡± the Lich teased, shrugging off a blow to the chest before he lashed out with one of his giant feet and sent the All-Father sprawling flat on his back. The God reached out to grab his hammer again, but as he did so, the Lich brought his battleaxe down so hard that it cut right through the tattered armor and the magical flesh and bit deep into the rusted iron floor beneath the All-Father, pining him to the floor, at least for the moment.

    ¡°In a moment, we will have one more thing in common as well,¡± the Lich proclaimed, spreading his battered arms widely. ¡°We will both be dead, like all of your subjects.

    As the All-Father roared and struggled, Tenebroum reached out and began to pull at the swirling souls in the crystal skulls that surrounded them on all sides, drawing them to itself in a slow maelstrom of light and sparks, and they flowed to it like a luminescent whirlpool.

    ¡°All this time, I was overthinking it,¡± Tenebroum gloated. ¡°All this time, I thought I had to corrupt and weaken you a piece at a time when really I just had to devour you whole.¡±

    ¡°You monster!¡± the dwarven God screamed, trying and failing to rise. ¡°You think you can beat me? I¡¯m thrown away slag that¡¯s stronger than you. I¡¯ve killed goblins that were¡ª¡±

    The Lich didn¡¯t answer; it just pulled the axe free and started hacking at the shrinking dwarf again and again while the dwindling God struggled to rise. Each blow was more brutal than the last, and though the dwarf managed to parry a couple of them with his hammer, it was clear that the way the Lich was draining the souls it had collected in this room was taking a toll on the All-Father. None of that was a reason to show the God any mercy, though, as the Lich continued to maim him over and over again.

    In truth, its body was creaking under the strain of it all and would likely be scrapped instead of repaired. The construct it had built to mock the dwarven God had been built with the finest materials and the most complex spells that the Lich¡¯s craftsmen knew how to make, and still, it had all but collapsed through the course of the fight. The limbs were cracked and bent, the breastplate was partially caved in, and the jaw no longer closed completely.

    However, despite all that, it had done its job. If it hadn¡¯t contained so many valuable materials, it might have left it in this room as a monument for what was about to happen today.

    Tenebroum butchered his opponent until he was all but a corpse. It was only at the end, when the All-Father was only a little smaller than a real dwarf, that it finally paused.

    ¡°What? Do you expect me to beg for mercy?¡± the dwarvish God asked peevishly.

    ¡°Begging isn¡¯t your strong suit, but perhaps in time it could be,¡± the Lich said as it dropped its axe and picked up the dwarf as it rose to its feet. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to have you work my forges until you tell me your secrets. I want them now.¡±

    The All-Father screamed in outrage, but those were Tenebroum¡¯s last words before he swallowed the remnant of the God whole. One second, the All-Father was roaring in defiance, and the next, it was nothing but ashes as sparks as the Lich ground him into nothing.

    It stood there, trying to enjoy the moment, but that was impossible because of all the new information that was rushing into its mind. When the Lich devoured a new soul, it learned things, but most of the time, these things were too trivial to rise to the level that it noticed, especially since it had devoured Siddrim. At this point, almost no soul had something new to tell it, and instead, it joined the swirling mass of undifferentiated souls, which was Tenebroum.

    That was not the case with the All-Father. Even in its weakened state, the God was the second most powerful spirit that Tenebroum had ever tasted, and the power and knowledge that flowed out of it were overwhelming. Most of the details were in no way applicable to anything it was working on. It didn¡¯t need to know the proper way to build a bridge or the appropriate way to pay homage to one''s ancestors. Those annoying facts were only so much drivel, though, crowding around the nature of runic magic, the distillation of forgotten materials, the artifacts that the dwarf had mentioned earlier, and most importantly, the history.

    Tenebroum¡¯s mind struggled to take in the last bit, even as it drifted out of its body and floated there like a dark constellation in the now almost silent room. The world, according to Siddrim, had been a place that was only a handful of centuries old, but according to the All-Father, things went back millennia in a cycle of light and dark that the deity had long ago opted out of to focus on the world below. It was a treasure trove, and the Lich¡¯s mind boggled at the implications.

    It was a lot to take in. In fact, it was so much that much of the knowledge slipped through its fingers while it desperately tried to soak it all in. It couldn¡¯t, though. Just like last time, it was slowly sliding into a state of torpor, like a snake devouring a meal that was much too large for it.

 Ch. 184 - Lost in Thought

    Tenebroum lost itself for days this time rather than weeks, but the strange visions were much the same as they had been before. It swam through the swirling memories of the All-Father, exploring the junctures where they met and, indeed, often differed with individual dwarves. Still, big or small, they pounded against the Liches mind like the blows of a forge hammer.

    In those swirling, rigid facts, there was enough information to make it feel some measure of shame for the way it built its lair. The core had been redone as a temple to accommodate its growing cult of followers, but the warrens of tunnels that had been built for defense and the storage of zombies, well, the influence of the All-Father made it clear that those would have to be redone, but only after it improved its forges.

    Tenebroum had always thought that quality issues in its components were due to the unwilling nature of the forgewights, but now that the knowledge of the All-Father swirled through it, it could see dozens of problems in need of correction. Ventilation, contamination, temperature. None of those were quite where they should be, even for simple steel. It would take steps to improve all those things when it woke if it remembered.

    For now, though, it remembered working with Lunaris to rebuild Siddrim¡¯s chariot. It remembered chastising her in the All-Father¡¯s gruff voice when it found out they had no one yet to recapture and harness the horses or even drive the thing.

    ¡°It¡¯s a waste of my time if the thing won¡¯t be put to use!¡± the dwarven God had roared.

    Despite her assurance that it would be, the memory faded before the dwarf¡¯s ire did, and instead, Tenebroum watched the All-Father force a sword made from silver dragon scales. This seemed important, but as soon as it saw that Oroza was with the All-Father and that it was her scale the divine smith was using, Its rage blotted out the whole memory.

    She lives! Howled in outrage. The Lich had not seen his escaped handmaiden in so long that it had assumed its poisoning of her domain had been successful. To think that she was still out there and still working against its interests, even as rough as she looked, was more than irksome.

    Eventually, even that drifted off, too. The Lich couldn¡¯t hold on to anything for long, no matter how much it might care about it in the moment.

    Remembering anything was hard. Sometimes, the intensity of the maelstrom at Tennebroum¡¯s core reached such a fever pitch that it felt like it was either going to collapse or explode. It was especially intense when feeding on a god, though, and the dwarf was alien in so many ways. There was such attention to detail and uniformity, but beyond that, even, there was a certain alienness.

    It was a second sort of cosmology.

    Above the world, past the stars and their strange constellations, there was nothing except the endless primordial darkness, but the same was true, according to the All-Father at the very center of the world, too. He kept the void from expanding the same way that the Moon Goddess and her glowing shield kept back the night.

    Tenebroum had no idea if that was true, of course, or what would happen if those forge fires one day went out, but it was hard to focus on anything, let alone worry about it in the constantly drifting and morphing images. The forges of creation held back the nothing in the same way that the light kept the monsters at bay, and truly, the Lich wanted nothing more than to devour them all. It wanted to extinguish every light and life until there was nothing left but a cold, gilded monument ruling over a world of the dead.

    Then, just as soon as it was focusing on those writhing shadows so far away and trying to figure out how it could devour them, it woke once more. What it had been waiting for had arrived.

    That news was important enough that to finally get Tenebroum to stir from its slumber. Still, it lay there for the better part of a day while its drudges transported both the coffin and the hound that accompanied it to their proper place in the laboratory that it had built for this specific purpose.

    As urgently it wanted to dive into those experiments, there were too many valuable insights left over from the churning remains of the All-Father, so instead of rushing anything, it spent time relaying as many of those memories as it could recall to the Skoeticnomikos. It was only then, after all of that tedium was done that it swirled out of the hopelessly damaged cathedral.

    It wasn¡¯t sure what precisely it would do with it now, but on a whim, it ordered its drudges to replace dull skulls with the few glowing ones that remained in the story room. Tenebroum wasn¡¯t sure if there was more magic left to be done in that place, but even if there wasn¡¯t, it would serve as a fitting tomb to the dwarven race. After all, that was where their God had died, and when it was done, the only dwarven souls that remained might be left in that room.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    Dwarves were no longer its concern, though. It was done with that enemy and moving on to the next one. Would that be the human kingdoms to the north? Somehow, the idea of hunting down mortal prey after devouring a god seemed less than enticing. Perhaps it would make its Queen of Thrones some allies to continue her hunt while it baited a trap capable of catching Niama, the nature goddess. Since it could not have the moon, then perhaps she would be its next meal.

    When Tenebroum reached the room set aside for studying the worm, the rat, and the wolf, it found his dark nature Goddess waiting. She¡¯d grown stronger since it had last seen her, and it was obvious that her hunts were going well. She was not nearly as strong as the true Goddess, of course, but she was already the equal of Oroza; she might even be stronger. It was hard to say.

    ¡°Finally, a servant that does not disappoint me,¡± the Lich said, suffusing the room as a mist while it studied the stone sarcophagus that sat in the far binding ring. ¡°Tell me everything about this discovery. Leave nothing out.¡±

    Tenebroum listened to her as she relayed everything in a tone that was prideful enough that it would have sifted through her soul to search for treasonous thoughts if it was not already consumed by this new discovery. It would let her have her pride for now since she had done such good work.

    She spent the next few minutes telling the Lich what it already knew, with only minor additions. It wasn¡¯t until she talked about the strange behavior of the wolf that it stopped her and studied the beast.

    ¡°What do you suppose it wants in there?¡± Tenebroum asked her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, my lord,¡± she answered, bowling her head. ¡°I only know that it wants it badly.¡±

    ¡°What about you, Ghrosin?¡± the Lich stormed, making the cage full of rats that sat in the far circle scurry and swarm in fear and agitation.

    ¡°I-it wants the worm,¡± the chorus squeaked. ¡°It needs it!¡±

    ¡°And what about you?¡± the Lich asked again. This set off a chorus of excited squeaks.

    ¡°Please,¡± they begged. ¡°Please let us devour and knaw!¡±

    The Lich had no intention of doing any such thing, of course, but it was all the confirmation that it needed that what it sought was here now. It had taken longer than it would have liked, but it had collected three dark gods that were, at the very least, centuries old. According to the All-Father, they might even be older than that.

    ¡°You may leave us,¡± it said finally to its dark forest Goddess. ¡°Continue your hunt, and when this project is done, I will build you more suitable companions than this hound so you can take down larger prey.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my master,¡± she said with a sinuous curtsy that would have been impossible for anyone with a limited number of human joints. Then, she was gone, and Tenebroum was alone with its menagerie of monsters.

    That solitude didn¡¯t last long. Seconds later, a number of zombies entered the room to be the hands that the Lich no longer had to do the work that needed to be done. Three zombies came in with chisels, hammers, and prybars to begin opening the lead-sealed sarcophagus, and one more 7 eyed fleshcrafter came in for the darkness to coalesce inside to better study the problem.

    Suffusing the room with itself had advantages, but with all the unknowns here, the Lich wanted a bit of distance. It wanted to be as separated from its subjects as they were from each other.

    Breaking open the thing wasn¡¯t hard. The thing was almost identical to the container in which the other two animals were found. This one wasn¡¯t filled with the mangey, emaciated corpse of a wolf or hundreds of dead mice and rats. It was filled with grave earth. Though that was the end product of decay, of course, it still struck the Lich as odd.

    Did the other two survive all these ages while this one did not? It wondered. It wasn¡¯t sure why that would be the case or what that would mean, but it did strike the Lich as odd, and the unexpected always made it nervous.

    Still, after only a moment''s hesitation, it decided to continue the experiment and had large bowls of blood brought to it to feed the thing. That was how Tenebroum had woken up the wolf, and that was how it would wake up this monster, too, probably.

    Blood feeds rage, though, Tenebroum deliberated as it watched its unthinking servant fill the thing with blood that was quickly absorbed by the desiccated soil. What might a worm require? If it''s the incarnation of pestilence, then does it require flesh? A victim to infect?

    The Lich was just trying to decide whether it should fetch an acolyte for this thing to consume when the grave earth began to stir, or rather, something stirred beneath it. It was barely noticeable, but it would have been difficult for anything to hide from a construct with so many eyes.

    ¡°Are you there, spirit?¡± The Lich asked in an ancient, cracked voice rather than speaking out into the ether.

    Groshian could speak in their way through the rats, but the wolf had only ever managed to howl in pain as the Lich took it apart and then put it back together to better understand its undying nature. So, there was no way to know if the worm could speak. So it was with mild surprise it heard the words ¡°Yesss¡­ I have risssen¡­ Onccce more¡­¡±

 Ch. 185 - The Turning

    ¡°Yesss¡­ I have risssen¡­ Onccce more¡­¡± The words of the Worm weren¡¯t physically spoken things. Instead, they echoed through the ether in a sibilant, voiceless whisper, in the same way that the Lich commanded its minions. This was the least expected option, but even so, it was progress.

    ¡°Tell me your name, I command you,¡± Tenbroum ordered.

    ¡°My¡­ name?¡± the worm answered in confusion. There was more squirming beneath the bloodstained earth. Worms was probably more accurate, given the patterns in the mud, but the Lich was less concerned about the exact form this thing took than it was about what could be learned from it. ¡°I am¡­ the ruiner offf nationsss¡­ the consssumer of men¡­ the wassster of livesss¡­¡±

    ¡°I have read the stories,¡± The Lich said carefully, trying to decide whether feeding it more would prod it to life or if torment would do a better job of that. ¡°I am well aware that you are the portion of Malkazeen that is pestilence and death.¡±

    ¡°I am not death,¡± the Worm whispered. ¡°No, ssshe is sssomeone elssse. I am Pessstilenccce, decay, and¡­ and¡­¡±

    ¡°And what?¡± the Lich asked, losing its patience.

    ¡°And not Malzzzekeen,¡± it whispered. ¡°But I will¡­ we will all become the Malzzekeen, in time¡­ that isss the way of thingsss. First, we join and devour the land and the people on it, then we flee from the sssun and¡ª¡±

    ¡°The sun is gone!¡± squeaked the chorus of rats. ¡°The sun is shattered, and the Lord of Light is no more!¡±

    Tenebroum thought about punishing the rats for overstepping but decided against it. It would see where this went instead.

    ¡°Dead¡­ but that isss not the order of things¡­¡± the worms whispered, squirming more violently. The level of the soil was lower than it had been before, and the movements were easier to see. ¡°If it isss gone, then nothing can ssstop usss from what mussst come next.¡±

    ¡°What comes next is that I will study the three of you, and when I have found a way to bind you to my power, then¡ª¡±

    ¡°We cannot be bound until we are bound together¡­¡± the Worm responded.

    ¡°I find that unlikely,¡± the Lich answered sourly, studying the growing aura of the thing in an attempt to find insight, but it found little.

    The Wom was markedly less powerful than the Wolf. There was little reason why it should be the most talkative and intelligent of the three, and yet it seemed to be. The Wolf was four times the size of Groshian and the Worm combined, and thanks to how well-fed it had been during its time with the Queen of Thorns, it was bursting with power. It should have been the master, but it seemed to be the servant. Rage and violence came before hunger or disease, though.

    The Lich set it aside. The why was not important. It was the how that was important.

    The Lich had already dissected both the Wolf and the rats for clues as to their nature. It was tempted to do the same with the Worm, but something about its nature¡­ it decided against that for now. Experiments were much safer behind the walls of magic that were painted on the floor.

    ¡°Tell me what you recall, and I will reward you with more blood,¡± the Lich lied. If the thing had needed more power to come back to life, it would have gladly drowned it in a lake of blood, but it looked quite healthy as things stood. Honestly, it looked a bit too healthy, but that was just one more mystery to unravel.

    ¡°I remember¡­¡± it paused as if it was searching for an answer. ¡°I remember light, and then¡­ darknessss¡­¡±

    ¡°The Light!¡± Groshian squeaked in a chorus that made the wolf howl mournfully.

    ¡°The Light is gone,¡± Tenebroum answered with growing annoyance. ¡°I slew it in single combat. Now tell me what else you know.¡±

    ¡°You?¡± the Worm asked. Several of them had broken to the surface and were squirming about violently as if they were looking for something. ¡°But you are jussst a ssspirit¡­ You are not ssstrong enough to defffeat the light¡­¡±

    ¡°I am the lord of death and darkness,¡± Tenebroum spat. ¡°I have defeated both the Lord of Light and the All-Father, along with dozens of small gods. I am the most powerful force of all in the world, and if you do not find a way to make yourself useful to me, I will devour your soul and use it to fuel my other experiments and conquests.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    The Lich well understood that sometimes patience needed to be afforded to certain spirits that had lost their bearings. Life and death was complex business. That said, to the Lich, this did not feel like a spirit slowly waking from a long sleep. It seemed like it was stalling for time.

    ¡°We¡­¡± the Worm Answered. ¡°We remember what God ffflessssh fffelt like, and how wonderffful it wasss to wreak havoc on the world above¡­ A leassst until a new Lord of Light wasss chosssen.¡±

    ¡°A new Lord of Light?¡± the Lich asked, confused. ¡°Why would there be more than one?¡±

    ¡°Why would there only ever be one?¡± the Worm answered. ¡°That isss the way offf thingsss. We ssstrike one down to begin the age of strifffe, and a new one ssstrikesss usss down in turn to renew light and lifffe to the world. It isss you who are the aberration.¡±

    ¡°Abberation?¡± The Lich asked. ¡°Explain yourself.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you fffeel it?¡± the Worm asked, in its slimy voice. ¡°Our connection? It issss not your time, and thisss isss, not your placcce¡­¡±

    The thing was beginning to talk nonsense now, and Tenebroum was very close to ending this conversation. Only the strange churning of the worms and their continued growth kept it here watching.

    ¡°There is no connection,¡± the Lich growled, shifting uncomfortably as it tried to put a finger on this feeling that it was feeling.

    ¡°But we are connected, can¡¯t you feel it?¡± the worms asked? There were so many of them now that the earth was all but gone, and they were squirming almost to the edge of the sarcophagus.

    Tenebroum decided it definitely wasn¡¯t going to feed them further at that point. What little life energy it had given the worms couldn¡¯t possibly account for such tremendous growth. So, until it had more of its questions answered, the only motivation the things would receive would be in the form of pain.

    ¡°I feel nothing,¡± the Lich barked. It was a lie, though. It did feel something in its soul. There was a strange sort of connection between it and the sarcophagus twenty feet away, even though that was impossible. It was a slender etheric thread, and when Tenebroum tried to sever it, a new sprang into existence just as quickly.

    The Lich took a step back. It wasn¡¯t fear that made it do so. Instead, it was an abundance of caution.

    It had never touched the ancient stone sarcophagus or even approached it. Both it and its occupant were locked behind a triple ring of the strongest wards that the Lich knew. A quick check revealed they were intact and working as intended, and yet still, it did not feel safe.

    The coffin was overflowing with worms now. There were so many they were falling on the floor now and squirming blindly around. It was meaningless because they couldn¡¯t escape their confinement and had no way to chew through stone, but somehow, that sight put more fear into the Lich than anything had since Albrecht had so long ago.

    Something was very wrong. Just to be on the safe side, the Lich ordered all the zombies to move away from the ring. In fact, halfway through the order, it changed its mind and directed them to a corner of the room. If something had managed to contaminate them, it didn¡¯t want them to spread it to the rest of its lair. It would leave them in here and destroy them with fire if that was necessary.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go¡­¡± the worms called out to the Lich as it moved toward the door. ¡°You can join usss and become Malzzekeen too¡­ maybe together we could become¡­ more than the Malzzekeen¡­¡±

    The Wolf growled at that, and the rats chittered excitedly, but the Lich ignored both. Instead, it was distracted by a strange motion in its body, and it looked down. It was strange to feel anything at all in a corpse, let alone one that had been tanned, treated, and left to work in the dark for decades. It wasn¡¯t impossible that an insect would make it into its lair from time to time, but as Tenebroum looked down, it saw that wasn¡¯t what this was.

    There, in the middle of its chest, was the outline of a long, slender worm crawling around in the skin beneath its chest. It was a horrifying sight, not because it was disgusted by such things, but because it was impossible.

    ¡°This cannot be!¡± it roared. Lifting its right hand and using the scalpel on its sixth finger to cut the flesh open and remove the thing. It was exactly what it thought it was, and it immediately dropped it on the ground and crushed it under its heel.

    But beyond that, there was nothing it could do. It didn¡¯t matter if it was impossible. It was happening. There were more now. Worms were crawling around its current body in places that they never should have existed.

    No, in places that they didn¡¯t exist in until a moment ago. It was quite sure of that. The Lich still had dim memories of what it had been like to be no more than a swamp. It knew the feeling of leaches and slugs crawling through it, and this place had, thanks to the caustic chemicals it used to embalm all of its complicated creations, this corpse had been sterile.

    Now, it wasn¡¯t, though. Now, grey finger-thick earthworms and black flatworms were crawling under its skin and out between the stitches where the flesh was long ago joined together. Worse, the black mist that made up its true form was leaking from these wounds like it had been injured.

    Tennebroum realized that it had been injured, though, and immediately fled the body, letting it drop to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut as it sought to put distance between it and those terrible worms. It had fought the All-Father in violent single combat for several minutes, and the God had done no more than total one of the many bodies that the Lich had constructed for itself, but to damage its soul, even in a small way?

    As the Lich pulled away, it could feel it. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

 Ch. 186 - Shattered - End Book 4

    Worms were crawling all the way up to the edge of the boundary circle now. They were pouring out of the sarcophagus like there was some sort of portal in there. They were flooding the place, but except for the few that had sprung from the corpse that Tenebroum had been wearing only a moment ago, there was none outside the binding rings.

    That was good, but there should have been none at all outside the binding rings. The spirits were separated from the rest of the world; at least, they should have been.

    The Lich woke up every head in its library at once to demand answers but knew that such answers would take time, even if they came at all. While it did so, it was torn between fleeing the room and sealing the stone door and between watching what might happen next. If it stayed, then whatever foul magic it was that connected it to the Worm might get stronger, but if it fled, then it wouldn¡¯t be able to see or stop what happened next.

    The very idea of fleeing in its own place of power was preposterous, but that¡¯s exactly what was about to happen. It would have, too, if it had not seen the worms from its corpse inching their way across the floor toward the cage of rats.

    Tenebroum silently ordered the closest drudge to walk over and stomp every last worm until there was nothing left. It might not be able to do anything about the overflowing sarcophagus yet, but fire-wielding forgewights were on their way. They didn¡¯t have a tenth of the strength of Krulm¡¯venor, but they were more than enough to sterilize this room.

    As the zombie crushed all the worms until they were nothing but goo with thick booted feet, the Worm cried out. ¡°You don¡¯t need to do thisss¡­ you can join usss¡­¡±

    ¡°I do not have partners or allies, and I do not join pantheons,¡± the Lich barked. ¡°And I only use servants that¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not a pantheon¡­¡± the worms whispered. ¡°No¡­ A creature like you¡­ we desire your power¡­¡±

    The Lich should have roared in outrage. It wanted to, but instead, it could only stare in mute horror as the drudge that had crushed the worms began to bulge and bloat. Tennebroum ordered it to move back to the far end of the room, but it didn¡¯t reach it before it exploded in a shower of flat and roundworms of all shapes and colors.

    The door to the room slid shut behind its ephemeral form with the loud sound of stone grating against stone. Such a burial wouldn¡¯t stop the Lich from doing as it wanted, but it would keep whatever was happening here from spreading.

    Realistically, it should draw the life force out of these cursed things and devour their spirits whole. It had considered that with Groshin many times, but now it was glad that it had not. There was no telling what terrible effect that might have had.

    The worms were everywhere now. They were in all three circles and on several of the drudges. They were on the walls and the ceilings. Tennebroum was more than a little disturbed. Fortunately, that¡¯s when the forgewights arrived.

    The dwarven ghosts were usually used to hammer armor into shape and make metal skeletons for one of a hundred different projects. For that, they wore iron gauntlets bound to their souls so they could use tools and interact with objects. Today, they had a different task: extermination.

    ¡°You want my power?¡± Tennebroum asked. ¡°Then burn with it.¡±

    As the Lich finished speaking, fire flooded the room. In fact, the light of it was uncomfortably bright enough that it moved to hide in the shadow of the sarcophagus lid that had been propped against the near wall. It didn¡¯t need to see everything to know what was happening, though. It could hear it. It could hear the shrieks of the rats and the howl of the wolf as much as it could hear the crisping of the worms as the world filled with fire.

    According to the legends, that was how Siddrim purged them, wasn¡¯t it? Tenebroum thought to himself.

    The fire went on for almost a minute before the oxygen was completely depleted, and the forgewights fled as slender blue flames before they were extinguished completely. This let the Lich spread out completely in the darkness to see what it had wrought.

    The results were not what it had hoped. It had expected to find only charred bodies that had gone still. The Queen of Thrones herself had mentioned that this wolf could die if enough damage had been done to it, but somehow, despite its wounds, it was still snarling even as it was covered in burns. Some of the mice were moving, too, and the Worm¡¯s sarcophagus was beginning to churn again.

    ¡°Fire¡­ heat¡­ it isss not enough¡­¡± the Worm whispered again. ¡°Not without the light that comesss with it.¡±

    The Lich¡¯s blood froze at those words. Light was the one thing it could not wield against these things. It had minions that could use any of the four elements, shadows, acid, and any number of other strange weapons. There was no light, though. Instantly, its mind started to race through the antielement options it might have. There was no strangulite in its lair, but for everything else¡ª

    Tenebroum¡¯s train of thought was derailed when it Heard the wolf growl more loudly and then pad forward, one shaky step at a time. The beast shouldn¡¯t have been able to move forward past the rings that bound it, but it only took the quickest glance at the rings to see what had happened.

    The marks that had been painted on the floor had been made in a dark pigment that wouldn¡¯t be harmed by the flames, but the worms that had landed on them during the gorey explosion had been burned to a crisp until they carburized them. One flawed ring could ruin such a working or even make it dangerous, as the mages of Abenend had found out the hard way. In this case, it had set the Wolf free. No, it realized, to its¡¯ horror, it had set them all free.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°There is no choiccce,¡± the Worm whispered as the wolf ripped open the cage and began to devour the rats, becoming one with them. ¡°Malzzekeen will flourisssh and devour everything until the light ssstopsss usss. Even you¡­¡±

    The Lich had its remaining drudges charge the thing, but it knew they stood no chance. Even before it had finished ripping them to pieces, its tail was changing into that of a rat, and its second head was growing. This was the worst-case scenario in its mind, and even as it retreated through the door made of eight inches of solid stone, drudges were pushing a heavy wooden beam across it to make it nearly impossible to open while reinforcements headed this way.

    The Lich wasn¡¯t sure what it would do if they breached the door. It had many projects that were halfway through construction, but other than its honor guard, it had very few warriors in its own inner sanctum these days. They simply were not needed. There were its own constructs, of course. It would likely have to animate one of the more powerful models and¡ª

    ¡°Ahhhh¡­ I see at last,¡± a new voice whispered the way that the Worm had. It was a chorus too, like the rats had been before now, but it was subtler and dripping with malice. New or not, though, there was only one person it could be. Malzekeen.

    ¡°We had been wondering what the connection was between an immortal being like the Worm and a paltry specter like you, and now we see it at last,¡± Malzekeen purred. ¡°It¡¯s the gold, isn¡¯t it. You robbed our tomb and cut your throat; isn¡¯t that ironic¡­¡±

    Even as warriors flooded down the corridor to stand ready against whatever was about to happen, The Lich suddenly realized what it was that the caged god was talking about. ¡°It¡¯s my gold,¡± the Lich roared as it fled back to the heart of darkness: its throne room and the phylactery it contained.

    Every resource that it had in the place was in motion now. Drudges were fetching untested alchemical compounds, and half-finished warriors were springing to life and shambling toward the lonely hallway where all hell was breaking loose. Everything was being mobilized.

    ¡°To think if you¡¯d left that gold where it belonged, then you would¡­¡± the distant echoing voice paused. ¡°Oh, but you couldn¡¯t¡­ could you¡­ Tenebroum¡­¡±

    To hear its own name from the lips of another was enough to stop the Lich in its tracks for a moment. Such a thing was impossible. It was unthinkable. It was the one thing that was not written in the Skoeticnomikos. It was the one fact that the library did not know. It was forbidden. The only place it even existed was in the great mandala that surrounded its territory, which let it dictate the very rules of the world here.

    Even in that place, though, had been specifically carved by a handful of drudges under its watchful eye, and they were obliterated afterward. There was simply no way that Malzekeen could know unless¡­

    Suddenly, it looked down at that slender thread that seemed to unravel off of it and back toward that monster. It was reading its mind through this cursed link.

    ¡°I am,¡± it purred. ¡°That and so much more. You are but a paltry ghost, but you¡¯ve been up to so much. And you have such strength, too. We cannot wait to devour it.¡±

    Tenebroum paused, almost to its throne room, and assessed itself. It did not feel weak, but not that it was focusing on it; it could detect a notable drain.

    In the distance, something boomed. The beast was trying to get free.

    With all the souls like this, it had gathered, it could probably endure this a long time, but that wasn¡¯t good enough. It needed to sever this strange connection once and for all. There was only one way to do that, though, and the thought was terrifying.

    The connection to the Lich was through the gold in its phylactry. What it didn¡¯t know. What it could never have known was that that gold had already touched something else. That was what those adventurers found, and that was what Cutter and Riley had stolen from them. That was the core of everything.

    Suddenly, certain questions that Tenebroum had never asked before were answered. Why did it have powers over disease in those early days? Why did it slip so easily into the swamp and its many predators? More than anything, why did it all feel so right?

    The Lich was horrified by those realizations and more as it sped to its throneroom. There was a terrible bang again. This time, it was accompanied by the sound of cracking stone. Even eight inches of limestone wasn¡¯t enough to keep that thing at bay.

    ¡°Nothing can stop me,¡± Malzekeen whispered in his mind. ¡°I¡¯m coming for you, Tenebroum, and there¡¯s nothing you can do about it¡­¡±

    It briefly tried to reverse the link and pry into the mind of this foreign entity, but it was a terrible idea, and it only sped up the power that was being sapped from it. The Lich stopped and ignored it. It had already made up its mind.

    It issued a command that it never thought it would have to make, and suddenly, its lizardman honor guard that had stood still for so long sprang to life. They hesitated only briefly as Malzekeen tried to stop it, but whatever hold it had over Tennebroum was tenuous, and it only barely extended to the Lich¡¯s minions.

    ¡°You think this will stop me?¡± Malzekeen roared in Tenebroum¡¯s mind like the beast he was. ¡°I am primeval. I am unstoppable. You cannot hope to defeat me!¡±

    As the beast blustered and shattered the stone doorway that held it back, the Lich¡¯s eight lizardman warriors brought their halberds down hard on the phylactery, hopelessly mangling it. Albrect had stood there silently for such a long time, and now, with no warning at all, he was being destroyed. The warriors delivered blow after terrible blow until the golden shell was in pieces, and dust was leaking from the mummified corpse.

    And just like that, the ghostly link vanished, along with a good chunk of what made the Lich who it was. For a long time, it had been a maelstrom. It had been lightning in a bottle, but now there was no bottle, and it began to unravel immediately. Now, its soul spun out of control, hemorrhaging spirits large and small. With each one, a bit of expertise or knowledge vanished, and Tenebroum slowly but surely unraveled into nothing.

    It was coming undone. It was no longer a Lich. It was merely one specter among many, desperately flying through the dark as its world ended. It wasn¡¯t alone; there were tens of thousands of spirits flying to pieces in all directions, and it had no idea what would be left when every last spark and shard that made it who it was was gone. The last thing that Tenebroum saw before it flew off to hide in the darkest corner of its lair was that awful chimera tearing its way through the guards it faced.

    It had become exactly like the texts had said it would. It was a deranged two-headed predator, as large as a man, with the head of a wolf and a rat, ringed all around in a terrible mane of worms, and any minute now, that thing would be hunting it.

 Ch. 187 - Hunted

    Tenebroum was still hemorrhaging souls as it fled down the maze-like halls of its lair, and Malzekeen roared in pursuit. The monstrosity bowled over everything in its path like a force of nature. Even as the constructs wound down, some of them still fought, but against the reformed god from an age past, none of them stood a chance. Metal and bone were sundered by powerful claws and even more powerful teeth, and any flesh that touched it was left desiccated and decayed by the powers of hunger and rot.

    The beast was the incarnation of destructiveness, and against that, in this vaporous form. Even its most powerful bodies might do little good against this monster, though. If Tenebroum had been itself, then it might have activated all of them at once and caused a true battle for the ages, but in the state, it was in now, it wasn¡¯t sure that it could even possess a single construct and use it to its full potential.

    The phylactery that it had allowed it to store immense amounts of power within itself. It had been the perfect union of the mind of a mage and the power of its hoard, and now its golden focus was gone. As a result, it could feel whole aspects of itself sloughing off like an eroding cliffside, falling into the hungry sea a bit at a time.

    The darkness should have wondered about that gold, even before all of this. It should have been able to detect the touch of another hungry spirit, but it didn¡¯t. Everything had happened so long ago when it had known. That was no excuse, though, and even as Tenebroum¡¯s mind started to come unraveled, it found time to curse itself.

    As the wounded spirit fled through the halls, it left a trail of smoke in its wake. It wasn¡¯t smoke, though. It was streamers of dozens or even hundreds of spirits fissioning from it every second. No matter how fast it moved, they were left behind it in a trail that not only gave away its position as it sought to hide from the monster pursuing it. They also weakened it. Every soul that left its core made it a little weaker and a little slower. Tenebroum hated that reality bitterly, but there was nothing it could do to change that just now.

    The darkness didn¡¯t need to follow the corridors. It could charge right through walls like they weren¡¯t even there. That didn¡¯t help it escape its pursuer, though. The monstrous hound was gaining. Sometimes, it lost a few steps when it had to go around the walls and obstacles, but other times, it charged straight through, shattering the thin limestone walls.

    It shouldn¡¯t be that strong, Tenebroum realized. Nothing should, at least nothing that had just been resurrected. That strength was one more testament to just how much strength the creature had already siphoned from the darkness before Tenebroum shattered the connection.

    ¡°Tenebroum¡­¡± Malzekeen growled. Now that the slender connection that had tied it to the worm was gone, it could no longer whisper sibilantly into its mind. Instead, the beast had a voice that had taken on some of the characteristics of all three creatures. It was a low, violent thing with an undertone of whispers, and it repulsed the darkness. ¡°I¡¯m coming for you, Tenebroum¡­ These scraps won¡¯t be enough to sate my hunger¡­¡±

    Tenebroum ignored it. Instead, it tried to fling constructs between it and the monstrous chimera, though that did little good. Many of them would not respond to its calls and instead continued to do whatever it was they¡¯d last been assigned to do, while others simply dropped where they were, completely without power.

    It had been the heart of everything. That wasn¡¯t an accident. It had been the heart of it all. The phylactery was connected to the soul web, which wound through its gigantic underground lair like a network of arteries, and now that heart had been ripped out, and the body was dying.

    That was something that Tenebroum was more than familiar with. It had killed more people and animals via its minions and its experiments than anyone else in the world. Perhaps even more than anyone else who¡¯d ever existed, and now its mighty war machine was dying the same way. The darkness was unable to imagine a crueler irony.

    It gave some thought as to how its armies and other, more complex servants would fair in this terrible, wrenching moment, but that ending the moment that Malzekeen bowled over an acolyte, practically ripping the young man in two as it charged after the dying spirit that had once been the Lich.

    It was a desperate race, and even if Tenebroum won it, it was still likely to bleed to death at the finish line, but that was a problem to be worried about later. Once it reached the undertemple, the darkness finally remembered there were more directions than just forward and backward, and it surged up, looking for a place to hide and heal while Malzekeen¡¯s slaughter of its flock was covered by the sound of a terrible dirge that was playing on the pipe organ.

    ¡°You think I will not follow?¡± the chimera bellowed. ¡°I¡­¡± whatever threats it made after that were lost to the music. The Lich entered the widest of the organ''s pipes and soared all the way to the surface, where night always reigned. Normally, it could look beyond the veil it had created easily enough and see if it were day or night for the rest of the world, but for some reason, right now, it couldn¡¯t. It was blind to everything outside the boundaries circumscribed by its true name.

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    Tenebroum sought to reach out to his most powerful agents and avatars, to try to understand more about what was happening through their eyes, but it was unable to touch their minds. Even Krulm¡¯venor, who was bound to it the most tightly of all, no longer seemed to exist. Either its connection to its constructs had been ended, or they''d died along with its phylactery. Regardless, there was no way to be sure, but it was angered just the same.

    Curse that filthy animal for this, Tenebroum¡¯s soul cried out in pain. Curse it for finally allowing that pathetic flame to be snuffed out!

    The darkness flew through the air above Blackwater as the music slowly became more erratic before finally dying in a single long, mournful note that lingered for minutes. While it did so, it studied the town that it had possessed for so long. The place had mutated in the time since the Lich had crafted its absolute barrier.

    When the curtain of eternal night had closed over the backwater, it had been a small town that was halfway burned to the ground by Siddrim¡¯s final bout of fury. Now, it was a ramshackle series of workshops and warehouses covered in patchy snow and a thin rhyme of frost. In the summer, that could melt away because of the warm winds, but right now, the roof edges were a forest of ice circles.

    Up here, the chimneys of its smelters still exhaled smoke, but there was no work. There should have been regular hammer blows and the sound of dead feet crunching on rotten snow. Instead, it was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Not even a breeze rustled the dead place.

    Despite the large cage of its own making, Tenebroum felt trapped, but there was nothing it could do about that. So, instead of rattling the bars of its cage, it perched there at the tallest tower in its factory of abominations and studied its own wounds.

    Its soul was only half the size it had been before all of this. It might even be less. It had lost most of the cyclonic complexity it had possessed before and reverted to some earlier state. Tenebroum couldn¡¯t remember what its soul had looked like before it had coalesced into its phylactery, but it was certain it was something like this. It was no longer a maelstrom. It was just a thunderhead, and as it dissipated, it realized it might become less than that, even. The land around it was its forever.

    It couldn¡¯t die, not truly, but it could easily fall until it was nothing but the thinnest shade of itself. It could become a dark version of Krulm¡¯venor, living amongst the ruins of its greatness with no real understanding.

    As it thought about that, another soul slipped free and started to drift away, but Tenebroum lashed out like a raptor, devouring it again. I can hold myself together, it seems, it thought to itself, but for how long.

    Tenebroum¡¯s fear drove it higher than it had in a long time. Perhaps ever. It had build this ring to bar the light from ever touching its domain again, but in all that time it had rarely used the full height of the tower that existed. Now it did. Part of it wanted to escape forever into the night sky.

    That proved impossible, unfortunately. Eventually the darkness flew so high that it reached nearly to the stars itself. That was when it finally detected the warded connections that linked between the glowing dots, and it shied away from that ancient power. There¡¯s something to be learned here, it thought as it slunk back from the shimmering net. But I¡¯m in no fit place to learn it.

    Still, as Tenebroum inevitably drifted back down, it considered what it had seen. It had long known that there were dark and terrible things in the spaces between the stars thanks to the blurred recollection of Siddrim¡¯s overwhelming memories, but in the moment of weakness it sorely wished it could feast on them.

    As the darkness studied this problem and tried to decide the best way to handle it, its world contracted down to a single point. At least, that was the case until it heard the sounds of a large beast padding around the tower three stories beneath it.

    Tenebroum launched into the air again a moment before the thing launched its mane or worm and leach tentacles toward it. I for a moment, the dark sky between them was a forest of death, and each slimy limb sought to capture Tenebroum in its weakened state. It was able to avoid the monster, but only at the cost of shedding a dozen more minor souls and shrinking even further.

    ¡°Look how weak you already are,¡± the beast taunted. ¡°I could keep hunting you, but what good would that do me? I already have much of your strength and find your pathetic toys to be a waste of energy.¡±

    The darkness said nothing to give away its location. Instead, it swirled high above the dark god that had ruined so much and kept on its guard for the next attack from an unexpected quarter while the beast continued on.

    ¡°I could do that, but it would be a waste of my time, and the Lord of Light has already cost me centuries,¡± it growled. ¡°So, I leave you to your fate. Let this place be your tomb while I go and devour the rest of the world.¡±

    The darkness watched it from high above while it walked to the border and then outside of it. Tenebroum was tempted to watch it go from there, but something wouldn¡¯t let it try to step across. So it didn¡¯t. Instead, it slowly hemorrhaged souls as it waited.

    What do I do now? It wondered as it reflected on the words of Malzekeen and slowly came apart. How do I survive this?

    It was the only question that mattered, but in that moment, Tenebroum had no good answer. Too much of who it was had already started to drift away, and it wasn¡¯t half the genius it had been even an hour ago.

 Ch. 188 - Desperate Times

    Time ticked by full of characteristic indecision as Tenebroum tried to decide the best course of action. It told itself, at any moment, Malzekeen might return. This could be a trick¡­ an ambush, and I should wait a little longer. That was only part of the truth, though.

    The truth was that it was it didn¡¯t know what to do as it swam back and forth through the skies above Blackwater, trying to devour every soul that slipped free of its grasp.

    That, of course, was a losing prospect, but there was nothing else it could do in that moment. It was certain that the only way to sever its connection with the worm had been to shatter the only thing that the two of them had in common. That had been successful but at a terrible cost.

    Now I need someone smarter than what I¡¯ve become to help it decide¡­ As Tenebroum had that thought, it realized that it still had that, at the very least. As soon as it realized that, it fled down at high speed, leaving more bits of other people¡¯s souls in its wake as it fled to the library.

    Malzekeen might well come back. There was nothing it could do about that. It might be in a day, a week, or even a year. The darkness couldn¡¯t prevent that in its current state. All it could do was hemorrhage and grow weaker, and that was the last thing it wanted. Its enemies were going to come back, one way or the other. If not the ghastly chimera, then the forces of light or even one of the meddling gods like Lunaris. Someone would smell its weakness like blood in the water, and it had to be ready for that.

    So, it dove through three floors of stone and into the library, hoping that it wasn''t completely wrecked like so many other parts of its stronghold. There, it found the room completely intact. Here, there was row upon row of mismatched pottery. Only a few of the heads in this room were even relatively fresh. Most of them went back for years and decades. It was an arcane treasure trove. Normally, it would be picky and choose the right mage or mages for the job, but it no longer remembered which jar held which head, and Tenebroum could not reach out to the Skoeticnomikos to find the answer. So, picked one at random and dived toward it.

    As it did so, there were some sounds echoing through the halls to indicate that either its surviving acolytes or some of the larger shards of its soul had gone berserk in some distant part of the labyrinth. For now, Tenebroum ignored that. Every minute and every distraction would cost it a part of its mind as it dwindled. The smaller it got, the slower it lost strength, but if it did not find a way to reverse this process in a day or a week, it would be nothing but a handful of murder victims lingering in the heart of what was once a swamp.

    The head that it chose belonged to young master Bartholomew, an elemental mage that focused on earth magics. Tenebroum found that out immediately, but it took longer to remember where it had collected him from. That answer came back to it only as it forced energy in the mage to bring him to life. The man had been one of the men that the very late Count Kelvun had hired to dig a canal through its swamp.

    The darkness bristled at that memory but stayed focused on the matter at hand as it commanded the mage¡¯s slowly awakening soul.

    ¡°Tell me what I must do to solve this problem!¡± Tenebroum roared into the man¡¯s mind.

    The most unexpected thing happened then. The man actually fought him. Not for long, and not successfully, but for the first time in decades, one of its servants squirmed in its deathless grip like it had a chance to escape.

    ¡°Tell me!¡± Tenebroum raged again.

    This time, the spirit gasped and flailed. ¡°I don¡¯t understand the question¡­ the problem? What is it you need?¡±

    Patience was the very last thing that Tenebroum had at that moment. Still, it stopped itself, and instead of trying to pour a book''s worth of information into a single thought, it carefully explained what had happened to the mage and told it all about the destruction of its phylactery and its eventual dissolution as it drifted slowly apart. Having a physical form, even in the form of this borrowed head, seemed to help with that, but the darkness was still losing power, and it did not think that Malzekeen was the cause.

    ¡°You must build a new one,¡± the mage said eventually, ¡°or you will continue to devolve into lower energy states as you equalize with the natural world.¡±

    Tenebroum took that in and was shocked that it had not considered that itself until the head said as much. Am I really so far gone? It asked itself, balking at the obvious solution as it fled the mage¡¯s head and sought the closest drudge that was still in one piece to do everything that needed to be done next.

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    The darkness skipped over several that bore the telltale signs of rot that indicated a brush Malzekeen before it found an aging specimen that was deactivated but otherwise unharmed. Tenebroum hated that it couldn¡¯t simply beckon to its lair and have these things come to it, but even worse was climbing into such a flimsy thing and forcing itself to its feet. Walking had always been complicated for the darkness, even when it had been a Lich. Now, though, it staggered down the hall toward its library and was barely able to stay upright with the use of the wall.

    Once there, the Lich wrestled the lid off of the jar it had just interrogated, and then, grabbing the mage by the hair, it headed toward its treasury. On the way there, it saw no signs of the battle that it could hear, but it made no attempt to look for it. The very last thing the darkness needed right now was a fight. It was trapped inside a fragile, limping relic, and it was slowly bleeding to death on a spiritual level. It needed no other hardships.

    Fortunately, it found none either, as it made its way to the treasury. Well, none, but the difficulty of retrieving and carrying a bag of gold with it up to the surface. The zombie that it was wearing was strong, but balance was made harder with such a heavy weight. Eventually, the darkness was forced to retrieve two bags just to balance it out as it trudged toward the surface.

    Along the way, it saw many terrible things. Even if that monstrosity had only been in its lair for a few hours, it had wreaked havoc. Walls were knocked over, sections of tunnels had partially collapsed, and everywhere the soul web was snarled. It seemed to recall that the Templars had done less damage when they invaded, but it was hard to say. The darkness kept confusing that invasion with some of the smaller ones done by adventurers before that.

    Then it reached the undertemple and found that its flock had been slaughtered, almost to a man. There were still a few praying, including Verdenin, who seemed to be dying, but Tenebroum ignored them. Their survival didn¡¯t matter compared to its own, and right now, it did not need prayers; it needed a smelting cup and enough precious metal to fill it.

    The way up to the surface was longer than the darkness remembered. It had been so long that it had traversed the path in physical form that it could not remember when it had done so. The past didn¡¯t matter, nor did the difficulty. All that mattered was reaching its desperate goal.

    There was no one to stop it on the surface, either. Indeed, the only obstacle it found there was that the blast furnace was almost out, and it was forced to set down its heavy load and retrieve a great deal of dried peat and charcoal, which had been set aside previously to get the thing back up to temperature.

    Tenebroum had never known much about the metal works of its lair. It relied on its drudges and forgewights for that expertise. It knew that fire melted gold if it was hot enough, though, and it knew that it needed molten gold and the mind of a mage to replace what it had lost. How that worked? Why that worked? It had no clue. All it knew was that it was dissipating like fog on a sunny day, and it had to stop.

    So Tenebroum loaded up the crucible with gold coins that it had looted from a dozen cities. Part of it worried that some of this gold might yet bear another spirit''s touch, but right now, there was nothing it could do about it. Right now, anything was better than nothing. So long as it wasn¡¯t Malzekeen¡¯s gold, it would be enough for now.

    What followed was a messy, clumsy process. The coins were slow to melt, even after Tenebroum figured out that it could work the bellows to increase the heat of the fire. It caught itself on fire twice, which was annoying, even if it did no real damage. Each mishap and mistake was more salt in the wound, though. A day ago, it had been a God; it had held the souls of hundreds of thousands and powered a war machine that functioned like clockwork, even half a continent away. Now, it was a bare chorus of ten thousand minds that were slowly bleeding away while it was forced to do all of the work itself.

    It was humiliating, but worse than that, it was inefficient. To the lingering vestiges of Siddrim and the All-Father that it still held onto tightly, that was the most unforgivable sin of them all.

    The remnants of the God of craftsmen cringed again when Tenebroum finally poured out the golden crucible onto the head of the mage, creating a tiny, ugly version of the phylactery it had possessed until recently. It was an effort that bordered on failure.

    The head was hardly the heart that Albrecht¡¯s preserved corpse had been, and the darkness gnashed its teeth in frustration as it tried to understand why. It had taken the mind of a mage and encased it in gold, just as it had done so long ago. This time, though, it wasn¡¯t a new dark heart that it could gather endless amounts of power into. If its original phylactery had been an ocean, then this one was a pond or a very small lake.

    Still, it was enough to staunch the bleeding. Even though Tenebroum felt like it filled the new thing up to bursting, it stopped hemorrhaging souls, and that was the important part. Now, it could even control a number of drudges once more, though they had to be close for it to do so.

    This was still an unacceptable situation, but it was able to think and plan again, and using its drudge to carry its new quasi-phylactery around, the darkness went back down into its lair to ask its library for guidance on what to do next. Bartholomew was spent, but it had many other mages that could advise it on such things.

 Ch. 189 - The View From Above

    Jordan spent those first few frantic months as the Lord of the Night Sky just trying to understand what it was he¡¯d been entrusted with. While he was thankful that his eyes slowly healed with time, sight, or lack thereof, seemed to be among the least of his difficulties. What he needed now were answers.

    Before all this, he¡¯d been grateful for the insight about everything that was about to happen. Truthfully, he still didn¡¯t know how much the book changed events so much as it witnessed them. However, whatever it was the Book of Days had done to him as he read it, it had quickly reversed once he¡¯d become a god. That was what he was now, though it still felt strange to him to say or think it.

    He missed that book, too, and sorely wished that he¡¯d kept it because there was no instruction manual as far as what it was he was supposed to be doing. Eventually, Jordan discovered that Lunaris¡¯s palace did contain a library. At least, that¡¯s what he thought it was. Instead, when he finally found a moment where the world wasn¡¯t about to end and had a chance to peruse it, the place turned out to be nothing but the journals.

    Not that the discovery mattered. Reading was a luxury he did not have time for. This was because the stars demanded near constant attention, but between fighting back the dark and checking on the children¡¯s progress, he did eventually discover the palace that apparently belonged to him, and during those forays, he discovered one more fact about the shelves full of journals.

    They did not all belong to Lunaris, nor was she the first God or Goddess of the moon. There was a whole list of people that had apparently been lunar deities before her, and though the answers as to what had happened to them were probably within the pages of those ancient tomes, just leafing through, he found a Selenara, a Craton, and a Mare.

    ¡°Still no Jordans,¡± he said with an uncertain smile as he closed one and put it away. The joke was an attempt to cover up his nervousness. He was entirely out of his depth. He might never have time to read all of these, but if every page in the vast room was a single day, then the world was thousands of years older than he thought it was.

    Jordan, like every other young mage, had been taught that the world was half a millennia old. Technically, it had been older than that for some unspecified period of darkness, though that time before time didn¡¯t count. History, so far as both the church and the Magica Collegium agreed, only started when light dawned. It had been almost five hundred years since the sun had first risen and banished the darkness forever.

    That no longer made sense when there were moons before Lunaris. There were probably suns before her, too. He could probably find their names with a little research if he had more time. Jordan could probably find out a lot more than that, too. Entire ages had passed and were entirely lost to time, and he was too busy staving off the dark to dig deeper into the topic.

    Suddenly, forever didn¡¯t feel so long anymore. Nothing felt long anymore. There was no time to eat or sleep, and though he didn¡¯t need to do either anymore, he was surprised to find he missed both.

    There was no time to sleep when the stars needed him, though. It was getting to the point where he could tell what was happening out there just by the way that the subtle music of the spheres changed and flowed.

    He supposed that would have been helpful if things were normal, and he had time to work on other things until an emergency arose, but right now, things almost always seemed to be an emergency. He had a beautiful palace filled with glowing servants. They would even bring him ethereal food, but he was too busy to enjoy any of it.

    Instead, he lay around outside, staring up at the sky and willing the stars to move into place for each new attack as he used the light of the moon to reinforce them where he had to. Each bright spec was not a tiny hole in the celestial sphere as he''d been taught; it was a tiny glowing chess man fighting to hold the darkness back. It didn¡¯t take long to see why Taz had been practicing his game so much throughout Jordan¡¯s stay. The rules weren¡¯t quite the same, but the same concepts of territory and reach applied across the vast swaths of the invisible board that was the night sky.

    He¡¯d do so much better at this than me, Jordan thought with a sigh as another one of his tiny glowing warriors winked out of existence. If only he hadn¡¯t been a monster.

    Tazuranth was a genius. There was no doubt in Jordan¡¯s mind that he would have done a better job, but there was also no doubt that he would have used those powers to terrible ends, too, and the longer that he played his little chess games with constellations, the more he understood that.

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    Slowly, the pieces came together for Jordan. For a few weeks, he wondered how it was there were any stars in the sky at all at the rate he was losing them. That was when he noticed that sometimes when someone died in the world far below him, they would drift off as a little spark. Not every soul could become a star, but it wasn¡¯t a privilege limited to mythic heroes either. There were plenty of farmers who died defending their farms from goblins and women who died standing up to protect their children from drunken husbands.

    It was those souls that saved the world. All he needed to do was move them into the right position, which was where the constellations came in.

    Of course, these brave celestial spirits were only half of the battle. The other half were the monsters they faced. Jordan was not well studied in eldritchzoology, but even if he¡¯d read every tome in Magister Brimly¡¯s personal library, he doubted that he would have discovered half of the creatures that squirmed and churned out there in the dark.

    Jordan knew about umbral hazards, of course. He knew that there were shades that could steal the souls of men easily enough. Those sorts of hazards were largely restricted to tunnels and caves deep beneath the ground. Up here, those weren¡¯t so much the problem, though.

    The monsters of men looked like men, but these looked like something else that was so alien that they might as well have never seen the glowing men they fought every day. The night sky was filled with serpents of nearly infinite length, lizards with a hundred limbs and a thousand claws, and hydras made of leaches and madness. Those were just the medium varieties of the monsters that could be found in the dark.

    Out there past the stars, everything was darkness, and even if he wanted to know what horrors it contained, there was no way to see just what was teeming out there beyond the starlight. Every day, Jordan observed, the light beat back the darkness, and he saw some new variety of monsters. Last night, it had been a five-headed dragon with fins that swam through the abyss instead of flying, and the day before, it had been a swarm of locusts that were each the size of a horse. As far as he could tell, every bit of the universe existed to devour the fragile lives on the world below, and only the light of heroes kept them at bay.

    Still, the longer Jordan kept at his watch, the easier things got. He didn¡¯t attribute that so much to any improvement on his part, so much as the note that Lunaris had left behind on the last page of her journal when she knew she was about to die.

    ¡®My final day. One day, my replacement will read this. They will come up for air in those frantic final days of the prophecy, and they will notice that the number of stars in the sky is growing again, no matter how many they lose. It will not be their imagination, either, for once.¡¯

    Jordan had thought about that. For a while, it seemed like it had been his imagination, but he was growing increasingly sure that wasn¡¯t the case. He just didn¡¯t know why until she told him.

    ¡®Siddrim always kept the night sky in a fragile equilibrium, consuming more heroes than he ever truly needed to glow ever brighter. When he was lost to us, the darkness devoured those souls instead. The prophecy says that the darkness¡¯s hunger will soon abate, though, and that the children will play their part in striking it down forever. I can journey to the hereafter with satisfaction that I have done my part.¡¯

    Jordan thought that the note was vague, but then he imagined it was supposed to be. Anything is vague once you¡¯ve been given glimpses of the future, he reminded himself.

    He wondered where she got her prophecy, of course, but that didn¡¯t seem to be a power that he had. Jordan had no means to predict the future. All he could do was desperately react each time a leviathan from the deep brushed up against his fragile net of stars, reorienting them to optimal positions to make sure that the forces of light had every advantage possible.

    It was a terrible equilibrium, and after less than a month, he knew he was not the right person for this job, no matter what Lunaris might have said. Still, it wasn¡¯t like he had a choice. The only way out was to die, and to date, no one had come to the moon to do the deed, even if that was what he wanted.

    So, as the situation stabilized, he found himself taking breaks to look down on the state of the world. Something certainly seemed to have happened. For once, darkness was not on the march in every direction, and though it did not seem likely that his former wards were responsible, they were certainly doing their part and had fought more zombies than children should be expected to at this point.

    Of course, they weren¡¯t children anymore. Most of them weren¡¯t, at least. He might have joined Markez¡¯s crew when some of them were little more than toddlers, but now the oldest girl was nineteen, and the youngest child was fourteen. At this point, every one of them was a hard-bitten warrior in their own right, and though Jordan kept expecting the Lich to appear and smite them, somehow, that never quite happened.

    Of course, as much as he wanted to help little Leo and all the other children, he couldn¡¯t do much. While it was true the moon¡¯s light could be turned to the world to burn away the dark, Jordan knew the world could not avoid the terrible cost of that just now. Things were getting better, but they were nowhere near good, and as much as he might love those glowing-eyed kids he¡¯d cared for so long, they were worth trading hundreds of stars for. Besides, he told himself as he turned his attention back from their little campsite far below and back to the stars above; Lunaris said they¡¯re part of the prophecy, whatever that is. They¡¯ll be fine.

 Ch. 190 - Dark World

    They¡¯d expected another empty town. At worst, Leo and his friends had thought they might find a zombie or two. However, when the things boiled out of the nest that they¡¯d turned one of the largest barns that were still standing into, they¡¯d all reassessed that as they drew their blades and shouted plans to each other as they pulled out their weapons and spread out to take out the foes that looked to be the most vulnerable.

    In a sane world, Leo would have noticed the barn a long way off based purely on the amount of evil it exuded. This wasn¡¯t a sane world, though, not anymore. Everything was tainted. Only the wildest of places or the holiest of ruins weren¡¯t covered by a thin film of evil.

    Darkness hadn¡¯t just broken the sun. It had covered the world like soot after a wildfire, and just walking through it was enough to make Leo feel tainted. Right now wasn¡¯t the time to worry about that, though. Instead, he charged the center of the enemy line, seeking to bring down as many as possible, heedless of his own safety.

    He had to. He was the one with the silverblade.

    They¡¯d finally found enough steel weapons for everyone else, but they were nothing special. Only he wielded a weapon that had been crafted by gods to strike at the very heart of evil, and it would have been a tragedy to waste that.

    That was why he took the head off the first two zombies to get within range. He sliced right through their necks, leaving a trail of ashes and cinders as the holy magic in this blade annihilated the darkness.

    The next opponent was wider than the last two put together and appeared to be a monster largely made of swine that had been stitched together. He took it apart in a single slash right down the middle.

    That blow revealed some sort of alchemical contraption in its bloated belly. For a moment, he thought the thing might blow him up. Brother Faerbar had talked about such enemies long ago. Fortunately, either time or his holy blade disarmed the thing, and the worst it did was shower him with ichor as it fell into two.

    Leo wiped the gore from his face as he took in the dwindling enemies left on the battlefield. A few of his friends seemed to be wounded, but none of them seemed to be in too much trouble. They¡¯d all be in trouble if they didn¡¯t keep moving, though. So, instead of worrying, he gripped his silverblade that much tighter and charged the biggest monster left on the battlefield.

    This one was a sloppy monstrosity that was obviously made from leftover farm parts. That wasn¡¯t an exaggeration, either. It was a sort of centaur made from the parts of two or three cows. Only the skull on top, and presumably the soul that powered the thing, was human. Even its arms were the wrong shape for a man, but two of them ended with huge rusted scythes that had once been used to harvest grain were now used to harvest flesh instead.

    Leo rolled smoothly under the first one as he closed the distance and brought his sword up to parry the second. A rusted scythe had no chance against a divinely forged blade of light, though, and as the two weapons met, his slightly glowing blade cut right through the other, sending the tip tumbling into the scraggly grass on his left, even as the stump of the blade continued off to his right.

    Once, he¡¯d thought that he was weak compared to his friends, but with a growth spurt, he¡¯d learned the truth: they¡¯d all gotten strong; they¡¯d just practiced together for so many years that they¡¯d never noticed. They¡¯d never had something weak to compare themselves to, and monsters like this, though brutal and horrific, were slower and clumsier than he¡¯d been at the age of eight. Leo could dance rings around them, but in this case, he would settle for chopping them into pieces.

    Both of the blows were powerful and might have cut an unarmored man in two as easily as they sliced through the air. However, now that they were past him, there was no way that the bony monstrosity would be able to reverse its blades and bring them to bear before he struck it down.

    The only problem was that the beast was more than a little too tall for him. That, at least, was easily remedied. Leo cut off both of its forelegs at the mid-thigh, then ran past it before it could topple onto him. It was only when it was flailing on the ground in an attempt to right itself that Leo was finally able to split the skull in half, and the darkness that had filled it left its empty eye sockets in a whiff of black smoke.

    ¡°They¡¯re really getting down to it,¡± Reggie joked as he walked over to Leo, now that everything was dead. ¡°Sending farmers and farm animals after us.¡±

    Leo thought about reminding his friend that all they¡¯d really encountered were the dregs of some vast force. Somewhere, there were huge, dark armies marching across the landscape, but these weren¡¯t it. They were the broken cast of bits of a much larger force. Even these didn¡¯t leave them entirely unscathed, though.

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    Today, it had been reanimated farmers. Two days ago, it had been soldiers missing limbs or otherwise mutilated. The dead were everywhere. Sometimes, it was just one zombie staggering in circles or trying to walk repeatedly through a solid object like a wall or trunk.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure anyone is sending these things,¡± Leo said with a shake of his head. ¡°I think they¡¯re just kind of everywhere these days.¡±

    ¡°You worry too much,¡± Jenna said, coming up behind him and ruffling his hair. She was bleeding, but if she wasn¡¯t worrying about it, then he wasn¡¯t either. Almost all of them could heal minor wounds. He didn¡¯t have to risk being called a show-off by insisting he be the one to take care of it. ¡°Me, I think the war¡¯s over, and this is all that¡¯s left. We clear these things out, and we¡¯ll all be heroes. They¡¯ll tell stories about us.¡±

    ¡°They will,¡± Leo agreed, adding mentally If there¡¯s anyone left besides us to tell them.

    They¡¯d found plenty of broken-down monsters and empty villages. They¡¯d found forests too afraid for birdsong and fields that had been abandoned for years. The one thing they hadn¡¯t found though, was any survivors.

    Some of the children had initially argued they should go back to Jordan¡¯s home, Sedgim Manor. Others had argued that made no sense and that the reason they¡¯d left that place was because Jordan knew that something bad was going to happen to them if they stayed.

    They¡¯d looked to Leo for answers, but the Goddess hadn¡¯t given him answers. She¡¯d only given him a sword. So, he¡¯d argued they should return to Siddrimar. A holy city like that might have survivors.

    Everyone had agreed with that, but the ruins had been just as empty as all the towns they¡¯d passed through before and after that destination. All that Siddrim¡¯s most favored city had were weapons of steel that were untainted by darkness. They¡¯d even found some armor, though it didn¡¯t fit anyone very well. They¡¯d have to make do.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay,¡± Cynara agreed as she walked up to join the rest of them. ¡°Surely the capital still stands, even if the rest of the world has fallen, and if it hasn¡¯t? Well, then other survivors are likely heading there, too.¡±

    ¡°Screw other survivors,¡± Reggie laughed, ¡°I want some real food!¡±

    There were a few laughs or muttered agreements at that. They hunted enough that none of them starved, but there were few fruits this time of year, and though they occasionally found grain tucked away in village granaries, it was inevitably moldy or otherwise ruined. Sometimes, they found a few random crops in the field, but it wasn¡¯t enough to feed them. It was just enough to make all of them hunger for more.

    ¡°Food, people, it¡¯s all going to be in the same place, I expect,¡± Leo said with a shrug. ¡°Where this darkness ends, life begins. We just need to find the edge.¡±

    Leo was heading toward Rahkin just as much as he was heading away from the darkness to the south. He knew that with his blade, he should probably be heading straight toward it, but he wasn¡¯t strong enough yet, even with this sword.

    He knew that one day, he¡¯d have to go south and fight whatever it was that was lurking there in the darkness that Jordan had described to all of them. Part of him felt badly that he wasn¡¯t just going straight away, but then, he had everyone else to think of. If anyone should die, even Toman, then he¡ª

    ¡°There¡¯s another one,¡± Cynara said, pointing at a nearby tree and completely interrupting his train of thought.

    Leo looked up and noticed that there was a bird sitting on one of the branches of a tree at the edge of the field. It wasn¡¯t a bird, though, not a natural one, anyway. It was one of the spies that the Lich had scattered across the world.

    Honestly, he was surprised he hadn¡¯t seen it before now. The bloom of evil on the thing was enough to taint the tree that it stood upon, and it took flight almost as soon as he looked at it with his glowing eyes.

    Leo focused hard, shutting his eyes tight as he held his empty hand up and gestured vaguely at the blackbird. It wasn¡¯t the first red-eyed monstrosity he¡¯d brought down, but it was always a challenge. Sometimes, they got away. It was those nights that where feared they¡¯d wake up to some terrible ambush. So far, that hadn¡¯t happened, but that didn¡¯t mean he wanted to tempt fate.

    Leo pulled at the light inside him just like he might have if he was trying to heal an especially grievous wound, and then, with a silent prayer to a dead god, he released it and opened his eyes. The result was nothing impressive. He didn¡¯t smite it with his gaze or shoot a beam of fire like Jordan might have. Instead, the clouds that covered the overcast sky cleared ever so briefly, and a single sunbeam from the bluish wandering star that was out just now struck the thing.

    The abomination that had once been a crow, or perhaps a raven, burst into flames mid-flight and fell from the sky, leaving a trail of greasy black smoke behind it.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Leo said. ¡°We should keep moving. Rahkin is still a long way away.¡±

    Everyone fell into line with him after they¡¯d retrieved their packs where they¡¯d dropped them before the fight, and the group started moving north again. It used to be that no one listened to him, but even if Leo knew it was mostly because of the glowing sword and the story about the Goddess that had given it to him, he still enjoyed the fact that people were finally taking him seriously, and he smiled as began to cross the fallow, weed-strewn field.

    They still had hours before dark, and he wanted to find something a little more defendable than this. It wasn¡¯t a matter of if the next monstrosities found them. It was a matter of when.

 Ch. 191 - Poison Jar

    When it finally felt strong enough to investigate, Tenebroum was horrified to discover the source of the noises in the depths of its lair. It wasn¡¯t simply constructs that had run amuck as it first feared¡­ it was far stranger than that. Whole aspects of itself that had been sloughed off as it bled out a torrent of souls in those first few minutes had congealed into smaller copies of itself, and they were at war with each other, ruining many of its remaining constructs and whole sections of its lair in the process!

    At first, such an outcome struck it as extremely strange, but it was only when it realized that it would do exactly the same as soon as it was within its power that everything became clear. I would never let myself be devoured by a lesser of myself either, it quickly realized.

    Tenbroum immediately retreated after that. Many of its less durable construct forms were already destroyed and lay strewn across the halls of the rooms it had carved out to display them in an orderly manner.

    Fortunately, the things rarely strayed into the undertemple for too long, so their interruption to the Lich¡¯s plans were limited. It had created three golden phylacteries out of the heads of mages, and though each of them was inferior to the original, once it linked them together with dark magic, it started to feel like something approaching a shadow of its former self.

    Even though Tenebroum had shattered into thousands of pieces, putting itself back together seemed like it was going to be slightly easier than it had initially feared. It had but to create a new vessel, and it would fill almost instantly thanks to the miasma of lost souls that it had vomited forth so recently. It just wished that it could move faster to collect enough energy so that shards of itself would stop wrecking the place.

    It couldn¡¯t, though. The mages of its library still couldn¡¯t reach any real consensus on why it was that its new phylacteries were so inferior to its original vessel. There were a nearly endless number of possibilities. The most popular contenders included the fact that Albrecht had been alive when he¡¯d been entombed, he¡¯d suffered more, he¡¯d had a greater connection with the swamp in life, and the lingering touch of the Worm¡¯s magic.

    The Lich thought that it was unlikely to be because of the Worm¡¯s dark magic. Even though it couldn¡¯t rule that one out, it still hated the idea that it owned that monster anything. The rest, though, all of them were good choices, and though the Lich had planned to experiment by coating high priest Verdenin in a thin layer of gold to see if connection or suffering was the deciding factor, the other aspects of itself had already smeared the man and the other living acolytes across the walls of the blue tiled undertemple, leaving it with living test subjects.

    What a waste, the Lich hissed to itself for the hundredth time as it continued to supervise the work of the drudges. It couldn¡¯t make a phylactery of any power, but the number of heads and gold it possessed was nearly endless, so it could make nearly as many of them as it wanted, and that¡¯s exactly what it was doing now. It had a new plan; since it was not likely to replicate its initial success, it would try another path.

    First, it had to go down and quell the fighting, though, and it couldn¡¯t do that until it had created enough heads to siphon up enough of the swirling power that lingered in the backdrop of its lair, and that would take time. Still, after a few days, it had created ten vessels that differed only in the expressions on the faces of the mages. They were all equal in their mediocrity, and for now, that was enough.

    Ten vessels weren¡¯t enough to replace the old one, but it was with them in tow that it reached its throne room and set them up for now on a temporary basis once the scraps of anything that might have been tainted by the Worm were swept away. It was only once that was done, and it could again feel some connection to the labyrinth as a whole, thanks to the soul net, that it activated its defunct honor guard and sent them up into the fray to quell the violence.

    The Lizardmen had moved very little in all the decades since they were embalmed. Other than a few upgrades it had given them in the wake of Oroza¡¯s attack, they were basically unchanged since its earliest days. They were still some of the most dangerous warriors in the complex, though, and the Lich wished to disrupt the battle that was raging somewhere above it to force the dozens of small spirits that thought they were Tenebroum to flee the bodies they hid in so it could devour their spirits directly.

    Were it stronger, it would simply rip them out without the intervening steps, but it wasn¡¯t even at half strength, and it still lacked the ability or the range to connect to its far-flung servants, and that ate at it. It had sent drudges beyond the barrier to confirm that it still could, and once it verified that it was dark out, there were no difficulties with it peering out to take a look, but despite that, it lacked the will to do much more than that with Lunaris hanging so brightly in the sky.

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    It was not time to focus on the wider world once more, though. Now was the time to put its own house in order, and that meant ending the destruction and returning silence to the Lich¡¯s great lair. The six members of its honor guard made short work of a construct that was meant for casting more than fighting. The piece of Tenebroum that tried to flee into another form was siphoned away before it could do that, though. Next, they encountered a body that was meant to wield shadows against masses of armed men.

    The Soul Stealer, the Lich remembered fondly. It had tens of thousands of shadows tucked away inside its reservoirs. It had considered making it a minion in its own right but decided that, in time, it might become too powerful.

    Anything that could devour on its own might grow to eclipse its master in time. So, instead, the Lich had made it one more body to wield in specialized situations. In this case, though, it was entirely useless against the already dead lizard men, and no matter how fiercely it lashed at them with dark and otherworldly forces, the most it could do was cause a thin rhyme of frost to coat their skin before they beheaded it and forced it to flee its body.

    The Lich had its forces retreat after that. That wasn¡¯t because they were in any danger, of course. It was because it had run out of room for more soul fragments. Over the last few decades, Tenebroum had gorged on the lifeblood of the world, and now, every attempt to soak up as much of this power as possible was met with the same problem: it had insufficient places to put all of it.

    Over the next few days, Tenebroum repeated this same vicious cycle. Craft an inferior phylactery, link it to the network it had already created with sigils and materials that had once been part of its now ravaged soul web, and then devour another piece of itself in an effort to bring stillness to its layer and wholeness to itself.

    The work took longer than it would have thought possible, though it picked up over time. As the Lich steadily gained strength, it brought more workers under its sway, and in time, it even ignited the forges in the heart of the labyrinth once more. Gone were the sweet prayers of the devout and the haunting hymns that often accompanied its giant pipe organ. In its place, there was only the ever-dwindling sound of battle, but still, it was progress.

    When all this was done, and the under temple was repaired and returned to its dark beauty, the Lich vowed to seek out new mortal men and women to worship it. Now was not that time, though.

    In the end, the Lich was left without only a few of the ravaging monstrosities. Each of the things that were left was fighting to devour the others as they had before. That wasn¡¯t the problem. The problem was that those who remained were also wearing some of Tenebroum¡¯s finest constructs. It had no wish to destroy those if it didn¡¯t have to, and the things seemed too evenly matched to finish off each other. That made sense, at least.

    Every shard of itself that yet lurked in these halls was perhaps one percent of its former strength. That was more than enough to reanimate a dozen drudges, but it was far too little to properly utilize a finely tuned masterwork of necrotic engineering that was built to fight a god.

    In the end, it simply walled off that portion of its labyrinth for a time and revived a few fleshcrafters to repair and alter the thing. It was a relatively simple matter that took only a few weeks to switch the creature from wielding shadows as a weapon to simply drawing them inside it like a terrible vacuum.

    When that was complete, it made exceptionally short work of the remaining monstrosities. Before the thing wielded whips and nets of braided shadows. It released them in gouts and in waves before reharvesting them once more. Now, it skipped all that and simply used the magics that it had to harvest the shadows to directly harvest the remaining aspects of Tenebroum instead.

    It was shockingly quick and simple to do. Once it was finished, and the Lich animated it, the fighting was done in the space of minutes. Rather than defeating them, it simply ripped their souls to pieces and consumed them directly. This left the crumpled forms of its other selves on the floor, only a little worse for the wear.

    The Lich berated itself for not having something like this years ago. It might make an effective weapon against any number of minor deities that it might encounter, and its powers were really only an amplification of its already existing ability to control souls.

    It might be forced to rely on such tricks more often, though, because without whatever powers the Worm had given it, whole regions of its powers seemed to be missing. The ability to suppress and inflame disease seemed to be nonexistent now, and though it was still firmly connected to the land around Blackwater, the animal and insect life that remained seemed more distant than ever.

    Is that because I am still too weak? Tenebroum wondered, Or is that because this is as strong as this new crippled form will ever get?

    Though the newly reconstituted Lich feared the latter, it would not give up. There was always a way to get stronger. It had been diminished before, and it would learn from this terrible event as well.

    Even as it schemed and fretted, the majority of drudges that were still functional returned to life and began to clean up the terrible mess that had been made. Everything that had suffered the touch of Malzekeen would be locked away in a crypt of its own for the time being. Everything else would either be set aside for repair or spare parts. Now that all of these distractions were finished, it could turn its gaze back to larger projects.

 Christmas Bonus Chapter: Ch. 192 - Bigger Things

    The first thing Tenebroum did when it was in full control of the dungeon was to add another name to the great ring that bound it. This was not something that it did lightly, and rather than inscribe the name of Malzekeen on the inner ring, in the primary circuit that cemented the Lich as the owner of this place, it would be carved on the outside wall. In theory, that would form a barrier that would bar that creature from ever re-entering this place.

    It didn¡¯t matter that the awful chimera no longer had a hold on Tenebroum¡¯s soul. It would not risk a second encounter when the first had cost it so much. The Lich was just grateful that despite the temptation, it had devoured neither Groshian nor the Wolf. Such an experiment would have tainted it forever, and the Worm would have devoured it completely in those terrible minutes that it had used its bond to drain Tenebroum of power and knowledge.

    Still, just because this was about a single name didn¡¯t mean that this change was not a simple thing that involved only a few letters and could be done in a day. It would take drudges, chisels, and hammers weeks to complete, given the number of symbols involved and how that would affect other existing enchantments. It would be worth it, though, and so it was prioritized over all the other carving that would need to be done afterward.

    Such a measure was not foolproof, and the Lich was under no illusions that it was. Should that misbegotten chimera break back into its component parts, then they would be able to bypass the wards. Likewise, this measure was not likely to bar any constructs or servants the God might create, but Tenebroum wasn¡¯t too concerned about that. This was something it had considered in the case of Siddrim and even Lunaris. However, in the former case, doing so would have disabled the very trap it meant to lay, and in the latter case, it decided that she was unlikely to ever pay him a personal visit.

    Malzekeen, though. It would return. It would wait for the Lich to grow strong, and then it would come back and feast on his strength. It had to, given the desolate state of the region.

    Tenebroum did not believe that the beast had a secret key into its soul any longer, but it was unwilling to take the risk, so barring it completely was the first order of business. While its drudges slaved away, once again perfectly in synch with their master, it could continue to plan more complex workings.

    For lack of living mages to torture and kill, it decided to continue and, indeed, increase the production of inferior phylacteries. However, instead of doing that another dozen or two times, it planned to do so with every mage that yet remained in its library. It would have liked to create one for every ten feet along the main channel of its inner ring, but it lacked the heads for that. The great wheel that defined it was more than half a mile wide, and it only had just under a hundred mage heads, so it would make do with something closer to fifty feet.

    The precise measurements didn¡¯t matter, only the scale of the thing. It could alter the locations with the nature of the spell to achieve any desired result.

    For so long, the Lich had been bound to a single point, swelling with power. It had never noticed just how constricting that vessel had become or how confined it had felt. It had been a serpent in desperate need to molt, but it had never questioned its circumstances. These events showed it a fact that it had never questioned. It had simply accepted that its heart was an inviolate thing and that it could never be touched. It knew differently now. Albrecht had been a powerful part of its hoard for so long, and even now, it was missed, but growth was always painful.

    Looking back, Tenebroum realized how little it had grown since it struck down Siddrim. It had stopped growing, and instead, it had grown everything but its own soul. Its lands, armies, and servants had grown in power, but it had remained stagnant. It had accepted its chains and spent its time working on toys and trifles. It seemed like the right move at the moment, but in retrospect, it was a colossal waste. It didn¡¯t need a better, more well-designed body to beat the next God or the one after that; it needed to become a being of unlimited power, and it had a plan for exactly that.

    That will change, the Lich promised itself. I only wish that filth¡¯s presence had not required me to think bigger.

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    The plan was simple. The Lich had already claimed this place. It owned this bedrock and the land above it as much as anything could be owned. It owned the dark heart of Blackwater more than Oroza had ever owned her river, and now it was going to turn the entire thing into a phylactery.

    It was such an audacious plan. If some other God had spoken of such a thing, the Lich would have laughed. Siddrim certainly could have done such a thing if he hadn¡¯t lived a life in constant pursuit of vanity, which consisted of building ever more meaningless temples instead of works of arcane might. Even the All-Father could have built something like this if dwarves hadn¡¯t eschewed magic.

    In fact, as the plans blossomed like a dark flower, the Lich thought that more and more that it might be the shattered remnants of the dwarven God¡¯s soul might be to blame in part. The All-Father had certainly inspired it to think bigger every bit as much as the sundering of its phylactery had. It was obvious in so many things. Not only were fundamental parts of its architecture changing as a result. Now, its lines were more precise, and its artifice was more careful.

    The forgewights were very slowly repairing the existing soul web, but more than that, they were replacing it one piece at a time with something that could handle more energy. The gilded baroque spiderweb would extend ever further from the center of its lair to the outer ring, where it would be fused with yet more arcane talismans when it reached that distant place, and everywhere its minions went, they cleaned up the mess that had been made.

    Truthfully, the mess was worse than it had feared. For a long time, Tenebroum had kept this place at a minimum of staffing with undead drudges as the majority of its armies were created in Constantinal. That was coming back to haunt it now.

    It was more than just the constructs that Tenebroum had designed for its own use that were damaged or destroyed. Half of the drudges that it normally used to carry out the menial functions of the lair, such as gathering fuel or cleaning, had been destroyed in the havoc, and many of those that existed in pieces would not be rebuilt because they bore marks that indicated the Worm¡¯s touch.

    There were parts to construct a few more, of course, but the majority of the replacements would come from the bodies of the dead priests and acolytes that had served Tenebroum faithfully for so long. For now, they would not be embalmed because time was of the essence, but that could be done another time once the stone carving was complete and the wreckage of battle was cleaned up.

    Once the dead acolytes were put to work, walls were quickly replaced with brick where necessary, and new paths were created. Even its labyrinth was to be part of the Lich¡¯s giant phylactery now. The twisted passages would no longer simply function as a hideously complex defense. Instead, the whole thing would become a singular multi-layered rune of such complexity that Tenebroum needed dozens of minds and thousands of souls to hold it in its mind¡¯s eye.

    To what end? Well, it had some thoughts there, but now was not the time to focus on the future. Tenebroum was hyper-focused on the now. It sent off all of its remaining black birds to search for The Queen of Thorns and the Voice of Reason. Krulm¡¯venor was in the depths and well out of reach, and its Dark Paragons were hopefully continuing its war in the far north. Only so much was within its new, more limited reach, but the Lich would find its servants and make certain they understood that they had not been let off their leashes.

    Once that was done, it focused on the largest unexploited resource that yet remained: the bones of Siddrim himself. For a very long time, they had sat there in the dark as the main decoration of a hideous crater where he¡¯d crashed from the heavens.

    The remains were dozens of feet long, marking the Lord of Light as a true giant. There was a time When Tenebroum had planned to armor the upper torso, fill it with troops, and turn the skull into a terrible sort of fortress before sending it against Rahkin or whatever other city dared to resist it. It could only imagine the thing¡¯s giant arms pulling the monstrosity across open ground, traveling dozens of miles every day.

    With everything else that had happened, Tenebroum was glad those plans had never happened because now the remains would be used for something else. The massive amount of essence in those bones would be used to catalyze the great new spell it was planning to complete this transformation. The last time it had attempted this, there had been thousands of peasants in and around Blackwater who had fueled its dark transformation with their lifeblood. Now, this was a lifeless place, but some kind of lifelessness was still quite powerful. This was not the first grave the Lich had robbed, but it would be the most powerful, and the Lich would grind those bones until they were nothing and fill the blood channels around the rim so that when the time came, it would have enough fuel to start this terrifying engine.

    That such an undertaking would take months, or perhaps even years, did not concern it. Such a task could be completed even while it fought the wars it had already started. All it needed was to reconnect with its distant lieutenants and warn them about the new threat of Malkezeen, and all would be right with the world once more.

 Ch. 193 - Fragile Hope

    Despite their collective sense of dread, the sky never fell on them, and Leo and his little group slowly made their way to the northeast. Still, as they went, the remnants of evil grew thicker, and the fights grew more challenging.

    An evil monstrosity that was one part giant snake and one part herd of wild horses that had been stitched together in a way that made it impossibly fast was very nearly the end for Reggie. It practically trampled the young man to death one night when it caught them by surprise.

    One moment, a few of them were sitting around a low campfire, and the rest had already gone to sleep a little farther away, and the next, the monstrosity galloped through their camp like a stampede. It stood up to Leo¡¯s silvered blade no better than anything else, but even after he cut the thing¡¯s monstrous head off, the remains of it continued to blunder around dangerously, knocking over random trees until it was finally nothing but a squirming mass of spines and legs on the ground.

    Reggie survived thanks to the healing touch of the light and the combined efforts of his friends. Even with that magical intervention, he would walk with a limp forever afterward.

    They chose their campsites more carefully after that, which led to the discovery of the first scarecrow. That was the name that Rin gave them when she hurried back from her scouting patrol. ¡°Everyone, you have to see this!¡± she cried out as soon as she sighted the main group.

    None of them had any idea of what to expect, and Leo was hoping she¡¯d finally found survivors. He was growing increasingly concerned that the world might be empty now, and they might be the last ones left.

    That wasn¡¯t what she showed them, though. It was good news of a sort, but only barely. What she¡¯d found was a zombie that was so overgrown with weeds that it was frozen in place. The thing struggled weakly, but it was only enough that it appeared that it might be swaying in the wind, even though there was only the faintest breeze.

    ¡°It has to be magic,¡± he said stupidly as he studied it. It was obviously magic that had bound the thing in place with grasses and vines. Anyone could see that, but still, no one mocked him. Instead, they all quietly studied the gruesome sight. It was only after Cynara struck the head off that the silence was broken, and Toman finally asked, ¡°Who do you think did this? Do you think another mage lives nearby? Like Jordan?¡±

    ¡°The rest of the mages are nothing like Jordan,¡± one of the girls said,

    ¡°Why would a mage bind a zombie instead of striking it down?¡± Sam asked.

    ¡°Good question,¡± Reggie shot back as everyone seemed to be speaking at once. ¡°Maybe it wasn¡¯t a mage then. Maybe the gods did this?¡±

    As everyone began to bicker, Leo started to tune out the conversation. He had no idea who had done it, but he was pretty sure a mage would have burned it to ash instead of planting it like a tree, and gods¡­ well, he was pretty sure gods could do more than this.

    That scarecrow might have been the first that they found, but by the end of the day, they found almost a dozen more, which only deepened the mystery. If this was something that could have been done, then why was it happening only here? Why hadn''t the nature spirits of the world risen up as one to end this scourge? Could the god or the goddess of a single forest have decided to do something when no one else did? Why didn¡¯t anyone else help them in the same way?

    In the end, all that any of them could agree on was that whoever had done this was protecting something, which made it seem like there was something worth protecting up ahead. They bickered about what it might be for the next two days before they finally found it. Some people argued that it had to be a mage''s tower, and others that it had to be a village or even a city.

    ¡°That¡¯s why they didn¡¯t kill them,¡± Toman declared, ¡°Because that would draw the evil on upon the survivors. I¡¯ll bet we¡¯ve finally found where all the other survivors have gathered, and soon, we¡¯ll have all the cakes and pies we can eat!¡±

    The young man turned out to be half right, but only barely. After another day, they found the edge of the forest and, beyond that, dunes that sheltered them from the sea. It was there that they found one of the saddest-looking fishing villages that might have existed anywhere in the world.

    There were people, and Leo was grateful to see them, but they were so malnourished that they made his small group seem well-fed by comparison. He instantly saw the dark humor of the situation: both of the groups rejoiced upon seeing each other, but only because they each thought that the other was here to save them.

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    There was no salvation for anyone. Not yet, anyway. As that realization slowly set in, the others that had been touched by the light pulled away from the poverty and the disease of the survivors they¡¯d just found, and the strangers pulled away from the men and women with light in their eyes.

    This was not an outcome that Leo could expect. What would everyone do when this ambivalence turned into animosity? Would they fight and kill the only other men and women they¡¯d found, or would they leave them to their fate, which was surely a slow death from starvation?

    Neither was an acceptable option to him, so as his peers whispered and tried to decide the best way to leave the two dozen souls they¡¯d found to their fate, Leo strode forward and introduced himself to the headman.

    ¡°Have you come to save us?¡± the older man asked.

    ¡°I will save whoever I can,¡± Leo answered simply, ¡°but you seem more than capable of saving yourself. We just need to go hunting in the forest so you can build up your strength and¡ª¡±

    The headman interrupted, giving Leo a laundry list of reasons why they couldn¡¯t. Martel¡¯s leg was broken, Karana was sick with a bad fever, and most importantly, the forest was swarming with the dead. That, it turned out, was the reason they huddled on the gloomy shore: they were terrified of what they might find in the woods. The group wasn¡¯t even a fishing village, as Leo had first thought. It was just the survivors from two ship-wrecked boats that had taken over an empty village and made it their own.

    After that, things started to make more sense. He asked Cynara to put some of the other boys to work hunting in the woods to find some meat since he knew they would listen to her more than him; then Leo spent the rest of the afternoon using the gifts of the light to heal those that were the sickest, making them well again in minutes or hours.

    This, at least, was hailed as the miracle that it was and robbed the air of the tension that had been building. One minute, Leo was sure that this was going to devolve into bloodshed no matter what he did, and the next, it was going to be okay.

    This was not what any of them had been hoping for. Later, most of them would gripe that they¡¯d been better off alone, but for the first time since the people of Sanctuary had aged a century in moments, they weren¡¯t alone, and to Leo, at least, that made all the difference.

    The first few days they were there were a whirlwind of activity as some people hunted and fished, and the rest moved the crude shelters most of the survivors lived in from just above the high tide line to the more sheltered area at the edge of the forest.

    As that happened, the story of what had happened slowly came out. Both ships were from the north. One was from the capital itself, and the other was from a town nearby. Both agreed that the city was a dead zone now and that there were likely to be no survivors.

    The captain of the ship from Rahkin, in particular, was a wreck, and when Leo tried to talk to him about what had happened, he only babbled about a dark and terrible thing crouching above the city on that last night. He described it as a flying sea monster that was made of shadows, which sounded ridiculous, but not even the light that Leo wielded so casually now could cure the man¡¯s cracked mind.

    That terrible truth stole all the hope that had been welling up in Leo for the last few days. ¡°I¡¯d hoped that this was the first of many small groups we¡¯d find,¡± he confessed around the campfire to his friends one night. ¡°I thought we might bind them into something greater, but if Rahkin is gone¡­¡±

    ¡°Who says we can¡¯t?¡± Cynara said, looking at him from across the fire with fierce determination. ¡°Where we found one group, we can find others. I¡¯m sure we can. Just because they aren¡¯t all in one spot like we¡¯d hoped doesn¡¯t mean we¡ª¡±

    ¡°What about the dead?¡± Toman asked. He¡¯d been grumpy ever since he realized there would be neither cakes nor pies in this dismal little place.

    ¡°Hang ¡®em,¡± Leo answered, catching the faintest bit of Cynara¡¯s enthusiasm as he forced himself to smile. He might not have much hope for finding other survivors, but he certainly didn¡¯t fear the dead. ¡°They haven¡¯t been causing us much trouble so far. I don¡¯t see any reason why that would change now.¡±

    A few of the others disagreed with that, but Leo couldn¡¯t make himself care.¡± Why do you think we survived when almost no one else did?¡± he said finally, almost shouting. ¡°Brother Faerbar. Sister Annise. Jordan. All of them, gone, and all of them to get us here. Why did they die if not so we could live?¡±

    "We don''t know that Jordan''s dead," Sam said. "He might be coming back..."

    "We know he''s not here," Leo snapped. "That''s all we need to know."

    ¡°And what is it we lived for exactly?¡± Toman said. He opened his mouth and looked like he was about to make a bad joke, but Leo cut him off.

    ¡°We are the light,¡± he answered. This time, he was shouting, but he didn¡¯t care. ¡°We are the heroes. We might be the last ones left in the whole awful world, but even if we are, that will be enough. It has to be.¡±

    It was stupidly optimistic, and by the end of his statement, he felt his cheeks flush, but no one laughed at him, at least not openly. As to what would happen if he was wrong, well, that went unsaid. They were the last of the light, but if they weren¡¯t the salvation and were instead just a few remaining sparks from a dying fire¡­ well, there wouldn¡¯t be anyone left to mourn them when the darkness finally snuffed them out.

 Ch. 194 - Ravenous

    The Queen of Thorns had been ravenous since whatever had happened, happened. Part of her wanted to journey back to Blackwater to discover why she no longer felt connected to the Lich, but the rest of her told her to stay very far away from that dark place.

    She wasn¡¯t sure whether it had been struck down, but she knew she wanted to enjoy her moment of freedom for however long it lasted.

    So she¡¯d hunted and prowled gracefully through the wild places, looking for creatures worth killing and spirits worth adding to her growing collection. At any moment, she expected that the darkness would flood her mind once more. She wasn¡¯t certain if it would punish her for some imagined disobedience, but amidst the thrill of freedom to do what she¡¯d wanted for the first time in her entire existence, she couldn¡¯t make herself care too much about that once the feral parts of her mind started to take over.

    It didn¡¯t, though. Even after a full moon had come and gone, the Lich never reappeared. Instead, her fear for that moment faded into the background as her hunger took over. Until this moment, she had no idea how much energy she¡¯d drawn from her creator. Now she did, though, and after only a few weeks, that hunger caused her to devour everything in her path just to keep going. Before now, she¡¯d hunted only the rarest and most powerful beasts, along with whatever spirits she could find. Now, she left only death in her wake. Animals were left slaughtered and drained, trees were felled by blight and rot within days of her passing, and insects swarmed behind her in a rising tide of darkness.

    The Queen of Thorns thought about journeying north to Constantine. Perhaps there, in that cursed soil, I can find some sustenance, she told herself. Those thoughts lacked conviction, though. A journey of hundreds of miles felt too exhausting for words. Instead, she continued as she¡¯d always done, moving from one forest to the next, leaving ruin in her wake.

    That was when it found her for the first time. She knew the scent of the wolf from the time she¡¯d been forced to work with it before it even got close to her that first time. She also knew that scent well enough to know that it had changed in a way that was ominous.

    If she wanted nothing to do with her master, then she wanted even less to do with one of its other pets. She remembered its savagery well and, at first, simply sought to steer clear of it. That soon became impossible.

    Oh, the Queen of Thorns could run faster than the mangy dog. It could never catch her in a race. It simply never stopped pursuing her, though. No matter how far she bounded ahead or where she hid, it always seemed to find her again.

    This worried the dark goddess. She was used to being the predator, not the prey, and in all the time she¡¯d faced off against other small gods, she¡¯d never found one, yet that could track her when she wanted to disappear.

    Now, it didn¡¯t seem to matter what she wanted, which made the encounter inevitable. So, eventually, she stopped trying to run. Instead, she chose a tall and sturdy oak and waited on a branch twenty feet above the ground while she waited for the cursed wolf to find her.

    I won¡¯t be able to do anything about my terrible hunger until I shake this thing, she told herself, even as she waited for the inevitable confrontation.

    What strode into the grove was not what she¡¯d expected. She knew that the wolf¡¯s scent had changed, but she didn¡¯t expect the creature attached to that smell to change this much. Rather than the bloody, mangey mutt she¡¯d hunted with for so long, the wolf had regained all of its strength and then some. It had sprouted a second rat head with red, beedy eyes, and it had a strange mane that looked almost like a bush made of plaid, squirming flesh.

    As surprised as she was by that, she was even more surprised when the thing began to speak to her. ¡°Greetings, daughter of the forest,¡± it growled and chittered. ¡°You have led us on a merry chase indeed.¡±

    ¡°You can talk now?¡± she scoffed, acting unimpressed. ¡°That¡¯s a new trick.¡±

    ¡°I have many new tricks,¡± the beast answered mockingly. ¡°Your master was kind enough to put me back together, and now I¡¯m pleased to say that gloomy spirit is no more.¡±

    ¡°You killed the Lich?¡± she asked as a chill ran through her. ¡°That¡¯s impossible.¡±

    ¡°Dead things can die too,¡± the wolf head answered while the rat head laughed. ¡°I should know. I have been dead many times myself, but you cannot kill hunger or violence. Just like disease and famine, they always return.¡±

    ¡°Well, then be on your way, wolf,¡± she said firmly. ¡°If my master is as dead as you say, then we need no longer have anything to do with each other. The world is a large place, and we need not see each other again.¡±

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    ¡°That is true,¡± it growled, ¡°But you commanded. Me, you forced me to halt, and this I cannot forgive.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like your problem, not mine,¡± she answered dismissively. She was uncertain of what else to say or do, though. There was no denying that the wolf was dangerous, and with its new powers¡­ well, she had no idea of what the full extent of them was, but she was certainly in danger.

    While the Queen of Thorns pondered all of this, the wolf and the rat began to knaw into the hardwood, removing chunks one bite at a time. That should have been impossible, but it was undeniable, and she felt the thing shudder as she stood up and tried to decide what it was she should do.

    Part of her knew that she should run. The thing had bragged about striking down her master. If that was true, then it was not to be messed with lightly. She couldn¡¯t, though. She might have no love for the Lich who had tortured her into existence, but she valued her own life, and she knew that this thing would keep tracking her wherever she went. She would never be safe as long as this monstrosity was on her tail.

    If I have to fight it no matter what, then there¡¯s no point in delaying the inevitable, she told herself as she studied the creature. All I can do is find the most favorable ground.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to try harder than that,¡± she said, melting into the tree she was perched in. ¡°I¡¯m not in a playful mood.¡±

    Even as she spoke and fled, the ground erupted with roots and vines to ensnare this thing. She didn¡¯t think that would work, but it cost her very little to test its strength. The Queen of Thorns bounded away from the monstrosity as it broke free without much effort. Sometimes, she moved between trees with magic, and other times, she leaped between them as she transformed into the six-legged jungle cat that was her preferred form. She was always moving away from it, though, and all along the way, she was throwing up more traps to slow it down.

    ¡°You¡¯ll pay for this, foul dryad!¡± the wolf-chimera growled as it bounded through the forest after her.

    Its way was harder than hers, though. For the nature spirit, the plants moved to make her passage quicker, and for the wolf, they moved to bar its way. That gave her enough time to let her think, but not as much as she thought it would. No matter how many tricks she used on this monstrosity, it just kept coming. Eventually, that meant that she would have to fight it.

    She chose a clearing, bursting with life, that would keep her well-fed and powerful for what was to come. Then she let the monstrosity flow her in before she bound it to the ground once more. It broke free even faster this time with a wordless cry of outrage, but by the time it did so, she¡¯d already pounced on top of it.

    No human would have stood a chance in the battle that followed as the two impossible beasts battled for supremacy. The Queen of Thorns raked the wolf with all six of her claws, even as she tried to snap its spine with her jaws. It collapsed, but only in an attempt to crush her, as each vied for advantage. She made the unknowable beast bleed. She even made it stagger, but it wasn¡¯t enough. No matter how much damage she inflicted, it wouldn¡¯t stay down. Eventually, it dislodged her, and she reattached herself to its sown underbelly like a sinuous python.

    The two combatants stayed entwined like that for several minutes. The Queen of Thorns had trusted in her powerful, sinuous body with no bones to be broken to hold this monstrosity in place while her thorns ripped it open, and her pestilences grew in those open wounds. She had seen this beast die before. She knew it was possible.

    It did not have two heads, then, nor the strange wavering mane, and that proved to be her undoing.

    ¡°You think you can defeat wrath and rage in single combat?¡± the beast said through its rat mouth, even as the wolf mouth tried and failed to gain purchase by finding somewhere to grab her. ¡°Stronger godlings than you have fallen at our feet.¡±

    She ignored that, trying not to think about the Lich. Her strategy was sound. Her form was superior to her opponents. It was more malleable and versatile, and she could hold on to her position wrapped around its broad underbelly with 4 claws even as it raked against its belly with her last two.

    That wasn¡¯t enough, though. Even as she bit and squirmed and fought with everything she had, she could feel herself growing weaker. It took the Queen of Thorns far too long to realize that it was happening or even guess at the cause. By the time she understood that the mane was more than decorative and the worms and leeches were painlessly burrowing deep in her flesh to drink deep of her lifeblood, it was too late.

    The dark goddess slipped, and that was all it took. The wolf seized the opportunity, biting deeply into her shoulder as it flung her around like a rag doll. From that point on, there was nothing the Queen of Thorns could do to break herself free. If she¡¯d been stronger, she could have mutated her body to make the monster¡¯s grip lose purchase or let that limb detach, but as it was, she was entirely subject to its brutal whims.

    When she finally fell to the ground, limp and defeated. Her torment didn¡¯t end there. First, she tried to burrow her roots deep into the soil.

    ¡°This would have been so much less painful if you¡¯d just given in. The entire world belongs to Malkezeen,¡± both mouths taunted in a strangely sonorous way. ¡°You weren¡¯t even a distraction. You will barely be a snack.¡±

    Glancing at the monstrosity looming over her, she noticed that the thing was already halfway to healed. If only I could gain a little bit of strength, I might yet escape, she thought to herself.

    That was impossible, though. Even as she listened to this monstrosity prattle on, all she could do was lay there, willing the darkness to take her and give her oblivion. Those wishes did nothing to stop the pain when the beast that had defeated her stopped bragging and started to devour her, one bite at a time. All she could do then was scream.

 Ch. 195 - Pretense of Power

    The Voice of reason watched the moonrise with ambivalence, wondering for the hundredth time if she was the one that had struck down her master. Given that there was still no true sun, that seemed the most likely option at this point, given that none of her messages that had been sent to the Lich had been returned since that awful day when she had almost come undone.

    Truthfully, every day since then had been hard, and no matter how much blood she bathed in, her body didn¡¯t work quite like it was supposed to. The joints were stiff, and her movements were clumsy now. She was even thinking of getting a new skin. Much as the Voice loved the face of the princess who had betrayed her, it seemed somehow wrong to her now.

    Everything seemed wrong now, though. All the tiny kingdoms, city-states, and caliphates that she¡¯d spent so much effort turning toward her master were growing restless and mutinous, and there was little she could do to stop any of them if they decided to strike out against her and her master.

    For now, they continued to send their tributes in gold and bodies. Once these would have been directed further south, to Blackwater and her master. Now, they never left the small palace that she had been gifted near the edge of Tanda.

    She knew the place was a trap, and that existed so the Goddess of the city could spy on her, but there was nothing that the Voice could do about that just now. After all, she had nowhere else to go. There was nothing but death to the south, and though part of her wanted to reclaim Rahkin and build it up as a city created to honor the Lich in a dark sort of way, there was no one left in the south to populate it, and the dead needed some source to fuel the dark magics that powered them.

    Even now, her black ships were still moored off the shore, just barely visible from the city, but they were mostly empty now. Someday soon, someone would test their aura of dread invincibility, and it would crack like an eggshell. Most of her best warriors had already been appropriated by the Dark Paragons, and she lacked the power to keep those who were left from doing much more than standing there.

    Even that was only accomplished by her regular sacrifices and dark rituals that were conducted in her enshadowed palace. She knew very little of the necromantic arts that raised her and her minions, and it was all that she could do to simply keep those existing spells functioning. As much as she would like to create new minions with an eye for superior aesthetics, that was well beyond her. She had tried to clothe the bodies of some of her war zombies in the skins of her sacrifices, but that produced only a different sort of terrifying appearance, and she quickly abandoned the project.

    Still, if the small Goddess Tanda Nihara was to be believed in days or weeks, this entire pretense would fall apart. Even according to the Voice of Reason¡¯s own reports, the war in the north was not going well. She didn¡¯t need any magic of her own to understand why.

    One minute, the dark generals were executing plans with perfect precision using nearly unlimited armies, and the next, their forces were evaporating because they lacked the powers to maintain them. Her most recent report said that they had managed to create a ritual that turned the entire act of battle into a perverse form of blood magic, but even that had its own drawbacks.

    Before, the Dark Paragons were patient tacticians who could test each defense and adapt to the changing strategies of the mortals they were pitted against. Now, in order to keep their armies from simply powering down to nothing, they had to constantly press the attack, which was far from optimal. Berserk levels of fighting would create losses far greater than the forges of Constantinal could replace, and she doubted very much that any reinforcements were being sent to anyone at this point. All of them were on their own now.

    The Voice of Reason sighed and was about to go back inside her palace to decide whether or not she should stay or leave the city for the dozenth time this week when the city¡¯s Goddess appeared before her. Well, appeared was the wrong word. She simply strode out of the stone wall. At first, Tanda Nihara was the barest series of rectilinear outlines, but moment by moment, she became a statue of a beautiful woman and then the woman that was depicted instead.

    ¡°Something new is coming this way,¡± she said abruptly. ¡°What have you heard of it. Is this a new plot from the Lich?¡±

    Neither the Goddess¡¯s appearance nor her abruptness surprised the Voice at this point. She was used to absolute power over the people that dwelled in her city. For a time, she had shown the Voice of Reason some small difference because Tanda Nihara had once feared the Voice¡¯s master, but those days were gone.

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    ¡°Such a thing is possible,¡± the Voice of Reason agreed, though she had no knowledge of the subject. ¡°Can you describe it to me?¡±

    The city Goddess proceeded to describe a beast of unnatural size and power that was apparently rampaging through some of the kingdoms south of here. Truthfully, it did not seem much like the Lich¡¯s work because it seemed more living than dead, but it was only when she spoke in detail about the mane of the thing that she remembered what the Lich had mentioned regarding the desert crypt it had ransacked years before.

    ¡°Malkazeen,¡± she whispered. ¡°It finally found the thing.¡±

    ¡°That is a name that is both ancient and feared in these lands,¡± Tanda Nihara said, taken aback just enough for the Voice of Reason to notice. ¡°What makes you say these things.¡±

    A quick conversation revealed that though the people of the desert remembered the name enough to fear it, little was recalled beyond that at this point. To the people of Tanda, it was a beast of shadows that presaged war and famine, and even the Goddess remembered little more than that. Still, the Voice fetched quill and ink and drew as much as she could remember from the image that the Lich had shown her in its mind''s eye. The result, even with her stiff and lifeless fingers, was an abomination that might make anyone afraid.

    ¡°The people will riot well before this thing arrives,¡± the Goddess of the city pronounced cooly after considering all this. ¡°They will blame the darkness that infests our land on you, and they will be right to do so, I think.¡±

    ¡°What will you do to me then?¡± the Voice asked. She was not in a mood to surrender, but at the same time, she was well aware that she had no powers that could hurt the woman who stood before her. ¡°Perhaps if I¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Tanda Nihara said, shutting down the Voice before she even had a chance to speak. ¡°Just because they are right to blame you and your master for this latest catastrophe does not mean I am willing to anger the Lich should he return.¡±

    ¡°So you are banishing me then?¡± the Voice of Reason asked, hiding her growing confusion.

    ¡°That is also impossible,¡± the stern-faced city Goddess answered. ¡°You are too valuable of a pawn to let escape at this point. Depending on what the future holds for Tanda, I can tolerate neither your destruction nor your loss.¡±

    ¡°So I am to be a hostage,¡± the Voice said softly.

    She considered a dozen different strategies she might try and a few convincing gambits but ultimately said none of them. There was no point. She lacked the power to back up even the softest implied threat, and her opponent almost certainly knew that.

    Instead, after a moment''s consideration, she finally answered, ¡°Will you take me to the dungeon? I would like to pack a few things before¡ª¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to go anywhere. This gift was always a prison cell whenever I desired to turn it into one,¡± the Goddess answered brusquely. ¡°I trust that you will find it comfortable enough, but now I must go and warn others of the information you have provided so we can prepare for our defense as best we are able.¡±

    Even as Tanda Nihara stepped into the wall, leaving behind only the fading afterimage of a woman in a temporary frieze that melted away before the Voice of Reason¡¯s eyes, things began to shift unexpectedly. When Tanda¡¯s Goddess had said this palace would be a prison, the Voice had assumed that she would simply have the king place imposing guards with shiny halberds at the exits.

    While the Voice could still martial a few zombies, and her banshee wail was a formidable weapon to mortal ears, that would have been enough. That wasn¡¯t what the city¡¯s Goddess wanted, though. Instead, the whole building began to fold into a non-existent space.

    One minute, her dark palace was the largest building on the small side street, and the next, it was shrinking into non-existence even as the smaller buildings on either side crowded in to take up the space.

    The Voice of Reason felt a strain of fear shoot through her as she wondered what might happen to her. She said nothing, though. Instead, she stood stoically at the rail of her balcony and waited for the inevitable. The Lich had never revealed all the details of its dual with the City God of Constantinal, but it had said enough for her to know that this particular kind of small god was a true terror in their own domain, and any attempt to fight such power would end poorly for the Voice.

    Oblivion did not come for her, though. Instead, as the building disappeared, it reappeared in the dunes of the desert outside the city somewhere.

    No, not outside the city, the Voice corrected herself. Tanda Nihara would have no power outside her city. This is likely the place it was before the city was ever built.

    The Voice didn¡¯t know that for sure, but it seemed to be the most likely option. Looking up at the night sky a moment later made that more likely. The mood was gone, and after a moment of study, it was revealed that the familiar constellations were, too. Instead, they were replaced with the city lights in a sort of almost grid.

    She was indeed trapped within a pocket dimension of the small Goddess¡¯s making, which meant that escape was very likely impossible. The Voice of Reason sighed at that and went back inside to write all of this down before any of it slipped her mind. If the Lich had survived and made its presence known once more, it would certainly desire a full accounting of these strange events, and she would be ready.

 Ch. 196 - A Shedding of Skin

    Once the mess was cleaned up and the forges were going at full speed again, the Lich no longer felt afraid. Intellectually, Tenebroum knew that it was still weaker than it had been, and the defenses it currently had were minimal compared to what it had marshaled before. It was no longer in mortal peril, though. There was no crusader army on the march toward it, and other than the Moon Goddess and Malkezeen, there were none that could harm it without giving the Lich ample warning.

    Now, the endless desolation that surrounded it was as powerful as any army. The area all around its domain was empty. What would an invading army eat or drink now that the upper half of the Oroza had been poisoned and the lower half had been turned to salt water?

    The plants and even the trees had died for dozens of miles around Blackwater and its poison river. Things were desolate even as far away as Fallravea. There was only just enough wilted foliage left to see the damage left behind by Malzekeen¡¯s rampage as the beast carved a trail through anything that might bar its way as it went to the northeast.

    It traveled almost in a straight line, and in the direction that line led, it might have gone to sack Rahkin or to sniff out something in the ruins of Siddrimar or Abenend, but the Lich did not care. For the time being, as long as its direction was away, that was all that mattered. Well, that and the fact that it was growing. The footprints that its blackbirds had sighted amidst the wreckage that the ghastly chimera left in its wake were growing ever larger. Though it was a wolf, for the most part, it had always been more of a lion in size. Now, though, the thing was approaching the size of a warhorse based on its stride.

    Part of the Lich sorely wished that it could strip the thing down to its bones to use it for parts, but given the risk of contamination, that would be impossible. Even now, the gold that had made up its original focus was locked in an iron-bound check and tucked away in a locked room with anything else that might be contaminated, just to avoid another brush with that monster. However, if it could find a way to reverse that link. If it could drain power from Malkazeen rather than be drained by it, then perhaps¡­

    The Lich pushed that thought down in annoyance. Such a task might work, but it was phenomenally dangerous, and now was not the right time to be tempting fate.

    Now that its mind was a chorus of nearly a hundred smaller cores, those small side trips would frequently assail it. It wasn¡¯t that it lacked focus; it was that it was capable of focusing on so many different things that parts of it could get sidetracked on a novel thought before it dumped the information into the Skoeticnomikos and moved on to more important topics. Tenebroum was concerned that such an arrangement could hamper it in the heat of battle, but for now, that was a safely theoretical problem. After all, if properly channeled, it might yet be an advantage and¡ª

    The Lich shut down that thought as well. While it was focused on optimizing everything it could, such concerns were not its most urgent issue. Once its own form was perfected, it would rally its minions and lay waste to anyone who stood against it, even that miserable hound.

    That was easier to say than to do, though. It was one thing to make pronouncements and plans, but given how much work needed to be done¡­ It was a massive undertaking.

    Its soul web had to be rewired, and many glyphs and sigils had to be carved or connected in different ways. No matter how many drudges it had, thanks to salvaging the fallen and putting its dead acolytes to work, it was never enough. Eventually, even its long-dormant honor guard was pressed into service just for want of more hands. That was appropriate, it supposed, since, in its way, Tenebroum was molting. For so long, it had been bound by its own skin, but now it could shed it, becoming something new and more dangerous, no matter how painful that process might be.

    Fortunately, its conquests up to this point had prepared it well for it. Even if there was enough gold and silver, though, it never felt like it. Whole kingdoms'' worth of coinage were being melted down and reformed into arcane objects that it could use to splice together its plans. Even the vast treasure trove that was Siddrim¡¯s bones would only go so far. Still, day by day, the transformation took place. Eventually, the Lich was not an entity that dwelled within its lair. It was its lair. It was stone as much as shadow.

    That change was hammered home when it started the long overdue process of splicing the steam organ into the dozens of phylacteries that held pieces of its soul. For its entire existence, the Lich had been forced to speak and cast spells through intermediaries, but now it would do so with its own steam-powered voice at a volume that would shake the very earth.

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    Normally, it was the fragility of the human brain and their vocal cords that limited the power of their spells, along with their puny intellect, but with this new arrangement¡­ the Lich¡¯s mind balked at the things that it should be capable of now if only it had the energy to fuel such titanic works.

    Still, not every endeavor was successful, and even those that were were not always quick. With every change it made, another optimization was discovered, and another bit of work needed to be done. There was always more work to be done.

    One minute, a whole section of the web was working fine, and then next, it collapsed under its own weight. Soon, those thick gold wires were wound around and through the spines of a thousand unfortunate souls as its foul works of magic and artifice spread from the core of the labyrinth to the spokes of the ring that surrounded it.

    Tenebroum was only when it was partway through this continuing process of replacement and rebirth that it realized how different it had become. The oldest tunnels on the first three floors were built at random to be as confusing as possible. They resembled the heart of a termite mound more than anything that had been built by the hands of man. In more recent years, the rooms that had been added were created with the needs of industry in mind.

    Things were linked in a way that optimized logistics and allowed for the addition of chimneys for the forges and ventilation for the humans once the living had come to the depths in the wake of its ascension. Even though they were gone now, their shrines and cathedrals remained. Those were the true heart of the Lich now. It was the undertemple that those braided spines wove their way to.

    That and the dark well it was digging even now that would sink through all 6 floors, connecting the temple to the throne room and completing the giant magical circuit that would finally connect everything. This new configuration was physically much more vulnerable than the old one had been. Once someone gained entry it could proceed straight to the heart of things without much opposition. That no longer mattered, though, since there was nothing at the heart for them to strike at.

    Tenebroum was no longer one dead mage, covered in gold and filled with darkness. It was so much more than that now. It was more like the terrible vision it had experienced so long ago while it was devouring Siddrim¡¯s soul. It was a vast and terrible tree of bone laden heavily with rotted golden fruit. Even now, its roots were burrowing ever deeper into the earth to feast on the shadows there.

    It had to. Tenebroum¡¯s other sources of power had dwindled greatly at this point.

    Its acolyte and their prayers were gone. The Oroza was so deadened that it drew almost nothing from those poisonous waters now. There were still some prayers coming from the villages its armies had spared in the western provinces between Constantinal and Rahkin, along with the ever-dutiful worship of the lizard man from their thriving village high in the mountains. Other than that, though, Tenebroum relied on a seemingly endless amount of reserves that had been built up over years of slaughter and bloodshed.

    As it racked its collective minds for other options, it realized there was still one source of blood and death left: the goblins. Those vermin all belonged to it on some level now. For generations, they had fought in its name. Reaching out, even to the Red Hills, proved to be a challenge for the Lich, but with some effort that night, it succeeded.

    This time, it did not try to champion one group over another. It was not looking to forge them into a single army. It simply wanted bloodshed, which was much easier to accomplish. That wish echoed out like a drop of water in a still pond and inflamed the whole region in an instant.

    To a casual observer, that wasn¡¯t much different than any other night, for the greenskins warred with each other constantly, but this was different. This was not battle, nor were they raids for things goblins actually needed, like flesh and territory. This was a berserk slaughter, and it warmed the darkness more than anything had since that terrible night that Malkezeen had been reborn.

    This will be enough, the Lich told itself as it drank in all the blood and the suffering. This will be enough for what I need to do next.

    This was not something it could do every night, of course. As goblins died by the score, it realized it would take weeks or months for their numbers to rise high enough for another harvest. Until then, it could always rely on its other, smaller fonts of power, though.

    Those wouldn¡¯t run out any time soon, but they weren¡¯t enough. Not for what it needed, or for what it was planning. When all of Tenebroum¡¯s modifications were done to its giant stony body, it would be able to channel truly impossible forces. It would be able to conjure storms that would make the maelstrom that a now-dead archmage had once tried to drown it with look like nothing but a spring squall.

    It would need power to do that, though, which meant murder on an industrial scale or other, stranger methods. Still, for now, it drained every last erg of power it could from smaller projects that were not is use. Once it had harvested everything it could from the dying region. There was only one place it could think of gathering more power from, and that was from the heavens above. As the Tenebroum gazed skyward, looking at the throbbing darkness that lay just beyond the web of stars, it cursed itself for being an idiot. It should have tapped such a limitless reservoir long ago.

    The fact that it didn¡¯t was inexcusable. Never mind that it could never have held so much overflowing power before. Now it could, and soon it would drink its fill.

 Ch. 197 - Drinking the Ocean

    When all was in readiness, and Tenebroum had drunk its fill from every corner of its fading region, it waited for the first new moon to strike. It had long deliberated on this moment and decided to plan its attack when the heavens were weakest. Truthfully, I should have done this when Lunaris was dying; before she¡¯d somehow managed to rejuvenate, the Lich berated itself before setting that blame aside.

    That opportunity was lost to it now. It had been too focused on its plan, and as a result, it had not examined the playing field widely enough. That mistake would not happen again. It was impossible, now that it had almost two hundred pairs of eyes staring into the void now.

    Its new form had thrown off the last vestiges of humanity that had bound it until now. For so long, it had drifted among the world as a fog or rested in its phylactery as something resembling a man. Its drudges and its armies had been thought of as arms and hands and fingers. All of those metaphors were gone now. Creating a phylactery that could be measured in miles had changed it.

    Tenebroum no longer had hands. There weren¡¯t enough hands in the world to do what needed to be done. It was a swarm, sunk seven lairs deep into the land that had once been a swamp, and now, when it reached for something, tentacles of darkness coiled around it, and dozens of drudges moved to carry out its will.

    Tonight, though, its goal was entirely beyond the fearsome grip of the corpses that served it. Tonight, it was reaching for the sky, literally. In the days leading up to the new moon, it had planned carefully and sucked dry every reservoir in an effort to tap what it saw as a truly unlimited source of power: the endless night.

    To that end, it had bled the goblin tribes, slaughtered any survivors it had found along the coast, and reduced the once mighty Oroza to a dead zone as it sucked the last dregs of life out of the Blackwater region. It martialed everything it had for this moment, and then, just after midnight, it struck.

    There was no moon in the sky, and it would be hours yet before the first grayish light touched the horizon. Only the stars were out, and the Lich had no doubt that it could punch cleanly through the thin barrier of stars, which were all that was lying between it and the thing that it desired most when it launched its attack.

    The tower of darkness that it created so long ago already soared thousands of feet into the air. It was taller than any man-made structure Tenebroum had ever seen. That was not enough, though. Not for what it had planned, and as the new glyphs and circuits activated, the whole thing became that much taller and thinner, soaring toward the sky.

    No one could see the assault, of course. It was a dark sword soaring through the night sky, but the Lich didn¡¯t care. The element of surprise was a valuable asset, and the Lich would take it. When it was surging with power from this newfound source, all would know of its triumph soon enough. Such a monumental event would be impossible to hide.

    Higher and higher, the spire soared as it raced toward the thin lines of force that were the stars and the arcane patterns that were woven between them. From the ground, all that Tenebroum could see were the little pinpricks of light, but up here, he could see they were ten thousand thousand tiny warriors, all battling back against the darkness that writhed beyond them.

    The Lich practically salivated in anticipation at that as it remembered the feast of shadows that Krulm¡¯venor had given it so long ago. The feasts of Ghen¡¯tal and Mournden were, but appetizers compared to the shadowy creatures that lay before it now. Tenebroum had no doubt that it would need to consume only half a dozen of those strange, constantly shifting leviathans, and it would be overflowing with enough power to re-establish contact with its armies and continue its conquest. It had subsisted off the dregs of its former conquests for long enough. It wanted to feast once more.

    When the Lich¡¯s blade was more than a mile high, it began to feel the strain of its magics as the ground they were anchored to thrummed with power. It was no longer a miles-wide blade but a rapier no wider than the mage¡¯s tower that had stood here so long ago. Once it was over five miles tall, it thinned further, becoming little more than a needle of perfect darkness that sought to touch the heavens.

    That would be enough, though. As its giant, celestial spear scraped the very heavens themselves, it pierced one of the nameless, faceless little stars that held back the dark, dissipating the warrior instantly into a thousand shards of fading light and touching the darkness beyond it.

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    For a moment, Tenebroum brushed against something ancient and powerful. This monstrosity was a slug with no eyes and a thousand yawning toothless mouths. It was too old for teeth. It was primordial. All that the monster wanted in life was to fight its way past the stars and feast on the world below, but the Lich feasted on it instead, feeling raw, primordial power thrum through it. The monstrosity struggled in its grip, of course, but it could do nothing to stop a god of shadows from devouring it whole.

    Then, just on the verge of Tenebroum¡¯s triumph, the giant entity was ripped away from it, and the connection was gone. It took the Lich a moment to understand why. That was when it realized that the other stars in the area were spiraling and moving closer.

    Like a swarm of birds or a school of fish, the glowing dots reoriented, and as they did so, the shifting lines of power between them altered and reformed. That blocked the hole in the cosmic net that Tenebroum had created. It roared in outrage and pushed harder against the flimsy boundary, even as it lashed out at the stars that tried to encroach on its position.

    At first, only a handful of stars got within its reach, and each of them was easily struck down by a single thrust through their heart as its slender, miles-long limb danced and wove around their blows. That only worked when their numbers were few. Once there were dozens trying to strike it down, such a strategy became impossible.

    Things quickly shifted from the covert assassination it had planned to a full-on battle in the heavens as it swung and struck out against the increasing swarm of stars. At this point, it was light fighting a swarm of gnats, and it lacked the tools to fight such a battle effectively.

    Worse, the way they moved and danced made it immediately clear to the Lich. They weren¡¯t trying to strike it down. They were trying to bind it up in the magics that they used to hold back the night. Those glimmering things had been created specifically to fight the darkness, and soon, Teneborum was almost entirely on the defensive.

    In that way, it was suddenly no different than the creatures that the tiny glowing warriors fought normally. The only difference was that its body was so far away that it was difficult to martial any real power from this distance and was reduced to shattering and skewering the defiant little bastards one at a time.

    Still, even with that, Tenebroum might have been able to force its way through eventually. Gnats were fragile things, and the night still had many hours to go. There were only so many stars in this part of the sky that could be brought to bear, and the Lich would not be denied.

    That was when the moon started to turn. One moment, it was nothing but a black orb, visible only in that it blotted out a small portion of stars. The next moment, it was a thin, glimmering line of light, like some giant god waking up from its sleep. Tenebroum had not planned for this.

    The Lich¡¯s schemes had called for a lightning assault that would allow it to tap the unlimited darkness above its head before anyone had noticed it was even there. It had done this on the darkest night of the month to ensure that the only person who might interfere would be unable to. Now that the first part of its plan had failed, it would seem the latter was as well.

    Even as the moon¡¯s crescent began to widen, Tenebroum retreated. It was out of time. It had felt the moon¡¯s light before, but even when it had been pinned by those strange silvery arrows, it was not as vulnerable as it was in this moment. Right now, most of Tenebroum¡¯s power was a mile¡¯s long tower that stretched toward the sky, and as diffuse as that structure was, it might be obliterated in a single moment by the moon¡¯s full power.

    So, the two deities raced. Tenebroum sought to shrink and resolidify itself, and the moon slowly increased its brightness as more and more of its wide surface began to glow with light. It was a near thing, but by the time Lunaris had turned even three-quarters of her face to shine on the dark tower, it was gone.

    That didn¡¯t stop the moon from releasing the full might of its pale glow for several seconds. Instead of shining on a thin and vaporous tower that stretched to the heavens, though, the light found only an obsidian hard dome of pure darkness that was now only just large enough to cover Tenebroum¡¯s domain. The thing wasn¡¯t as impressive as before, but it was more defensive, and it used much less power.

    It was the second part that concerned Tenebroum more than anything, though. Despite its taste of darkness, it had expended nearly half of its reserves in this monumental undertaking and had nothing to show for it. Oh, it had cost the sky a hundred stars, and in a few months, it could try again, but without a more significant advantage, it would take centuries to snuff out every star in the sky, assuming that the gods didn¡¯t have some way of making more.

    Tenebroum coiled back into its lair and seethed in frustration at this latest setback, and brooded about what to do next. It released its grip on the individual skulls that dotted its outer ring, letting the individual pieces of its soul argue about what to do next. There were many plans there. Some were quite insane, but others were less so. Gradually, though, a consensus began to watch over the collective heads.

    A new plan had been decided on, and for it to work, the Lich would have to summon its fourth horsemen and dig deep into the earth.

 Ch. 198 - Another Problem

    Despite the fact that the act of will had left Jordan completely drained, it had been worth it to beat the Lich back. He didn¡¯t know what that monster was up to, but he knew that if it tried again in the next night or two, he would not be able to intervene again quite so soon.

    That thought filled him with even more dread than the hundreds of stars he¡¯d lost that night. The Lich had slain less than a third of those, but suddenly shifting an entire hemisphere of the sky to beat it back had caused losses everywhere. A game as complex as the night sky was not meant to be shifted so suddenly, and he could have very easily drowned the world in shadows in his attempt to fight the Lich.

    Even so, despite Jordan¡¯s best efforts, a few of the smaller monsters had gotten through and would wreck no end of havoc if they found somewhere suitable to hide from the light of day. ¡°You can¡¯t win them all,¡± he sighed, laying on a couch in the rear of his small palace while he looked up at the sky. No matter how tired he was now, he dared not sleep. There was too much to do after all the snarls he¡¯d created. It would be weeks before he put the whole weave back together again in something that resembled an orderly pattern, with all the constellations where they were supposed to be.

    ¡°Master, I have come to inform you that the ladies Chamen Sea and two forest Goddesses that declined to give me their names have come to visit you,¡± one of Jordan¡¯s servants said after appearing behind him and giving him a hell of a scare.

    ¡°By the dark, I told you not to do that,¡± Jordan gasped, momentarily losing enough of his concentration that the endless battle faded from his mind for a moment, leaving the small cluster of stars he¡¯d been helping to fend for themselves a moment. ¡°You can tell them the same thing I¡¯ve had you tell everyone else.¡±

    Jordan felt rude addressing the ageless young man like that, but he¡¯d given up trying to ask these people for their names. They didn¡¯t have any, and they didn¡¯t seem to appreciate it when he tried to give them one. They might look human and act human, but they were something else.

    If he had more time, he¡¯d study them; they seemed to be an advanced sort of servitor that was tied to the house, but time was the one thing he did not have these days. Certainly, he didn''t have the time to have an audience with every God and Goddess that seemed to want his attention the last few days. He hadn¡¯t even had time to check on the children since all of this had happened, and he was certainly more concerned with their well-being than whatever else a god might tell him just now.

    Just that thought made him smile. Here he was, the black sheep and sole survivor of his family, and now suddenly, he was in the position to tell Gods to come back later. I didn¡¯t even finish the Collegium, and here I am lording over¡­  as Jordan experienced the moment, he suddenly realized that his servant was continuing to stand there like he was waiting for more of that order.

    ¡°Go on,¡± Jordan said.

    ¡°Shall I tell them three weeks, like the others,¡± the servant asked.

    ¡°Yes, please,¡± he sighed. ¡°The night before the full moon, and not before.¡±

    Jordan¡¯s strange servant bowed and walked away, and as he did, Jordan called after him. ¡°You can just tell everyone that. You don¡¯t need to ask me every time!¡±

    The man paused, turned, and bowed to acknowledge that order, but Jordan knew that he wouldn¡¯t honor it. If someone showed up in an hour, then he, or someone like him, would show up to disturb Jordan¡¯s concentration and tear him away from the cosmic battle that truly mattered.

    Jordan returned to the task at hand, frowning as he noted that in the time it took him to resolve that conversation, two of the stars on his side had been lost, and the situation had worsened slightly. This is why Gods never answer prayers, he thought to himself. They¡¯re too busy dealing with everything else.

    While true when he was aggravated, that statement became less true throughout that day and the days that followed as he slowly put the sky back where it was supposed to be. Lunaris had personally intervened in his own life twice, and it could be argued that Siddrim had as well, even if that was through Sir Farbaer. Jordan supposed that he could look through her journals and see if there was any mention as to why she saved him while she let Abenend burn to the ground, but that would have to be a project for some point in the distant future. He didn¡¯t have any more time for himself than he did for others, as he focused entirely on keeping the world from falling into ruin.

    In the days that followed, though, the second, third, and fifth attacks from the Lich that he¡¯d feared never materialized, giving Jordan all the time he needed to fix the things that were broken. It was only once all of that was done that he finally took a look around the world again, and he liked what he saw.

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    Not only was the bleed-through of the shadows less than he¡¯d feared and almost completely dissipated by now, but there seemed to be less in the way of undead, too. Humanity was winning on several fronts, most notability in the northern and the desert kingdoms.

    Jordan had feared that the surprise attack from the Lich had indicated that its evil was resurgent, but if anything, it seemed to have been a last gasp from that evil creature. Not that he was willing to count the thing out, of course. As long as shadows clung to Blackwater, and even after, that thing would be a menace, but if it had finally burned itself out, then the world would recover, and after a new Lord of Light was put into place and the sun rose once more¡­

    Jordan sighed at that thought. He knew that¡¯s what the Gods and goddesses would demand of him in a few days. He even knew who the candidate was, but even if Jordan thought that little Leo was ready for such a burden, it would violate the prophecy that he¡¯d spent so much time studying in the Book of Ways. No, for now, his hands were tied, and he would do only his job. Everything else would come in the fullness of time.

    When the conclave of deities finally arrived a week later, he was only half-right. The gods of cities and rivers he¡¯d never heard of crowded the amphitheater that he hadn¡¯t set foot in since Lunaris¡¯s death. To him, it was hollowed ground, but to everyone else, he was just a pretender to the throne. The All-Father did not join them. No one could say why, though the Goddesses of Nature and the Sea and Storms stood by his side in the center of that vast place.

    Jordan noticed that no one sat very close to anyone else. It was not a protocol he understood, but he didn¡¯t ask, either. Instead of focusing on the Lord of Light and who it should be, though, the conversation mostly revolved around a new threat: Malkezeen.

    ¡°It has returned,¡± Niama told everyone. ¡°I have seen it with my own eyes. Malkezeen walks among us once more.¡±

    Jordan did not reveal his ignorance by asking who that was. Even though his strange but dutiful servants had done their part to make sure he looked a bit more like a god than he ever had before, he still knew precious little. Instead, he listened and learned as everyone else shared what they knew.

    Apparently, this was the entity that they all truly feared. That was one of the reasons they¡¯d done so little about the Lich. It was likely only a harbinger of the true evil that waited to devour the world with war and famine. Apparently, several small gods had already been devoured by it, and servants of the Lich might have been murdered as well, but that was harder to say.

    ¡°Perhaps it has eaten the All-Father,¡± the lesser God of a faraway city to the north asked. ¡°It¡¯s not like him not to be here.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± Istiniss agreed. ¡°But the All-Father would never leave the depths for such a brawl, and Malkazeen is too hungry to search the deeps for him. There is a reason why the Lord of Dwarves has survived endless cycles of light and dark, and that is by not getting involved.¡±

    There was a mixed reaction to those words, and Jordan could see there was not a lot of love lost there. At one point, the goddess of the great Bahlmatta Mountain range asked him if he¡¯d turned the moon''s gaze so recently to fight the chimeric wolf-rat. That was apparently why they were all here. They thought that he was seeking to lead the charge against the most terrible evil any of them were likely to ever know.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Jordan admitted, provoking audible sighs. He explained how he¡¯d fought against the Lich when it had attacked the sky, but no one seemed to care about that. The Lich had done its damage, and even now, as its armies were winnowed and routed, the Gods were turning their attention to other matters. That annoyed him more than he could say.

    If the thing is weak, then now is the time to strike and finish it. He thought. We can¡¯t let it fester and grow once more.

    Everyone else¡¯s concerns lay elsewhere, though. He was standing on the moon with a hundred divinities, many of whom were from so far away that he¡¯d never even heard of them, and they were acting like a flock of frightened children. No, they were worse than that; Jordan had seen the way that Cynara, Leo, and all the other were reacting to the hardships they found in the wider world, and none of them were freaking out like this.

    ¡°The child has been found, the sword has been forged, and the evil will be struck down,¡± Istiniss answered finally as if that meant anything.

    Jordan said nothing about that either, but mostly because it seemed to calm everyone. Fate was a slippery thing, though, and he¡¯d dealt with it just enough to be uncomfortable around it. It had warned him of what Tazuranth was going to do but had told him nothing of this rat-wolf spirit nor about the Lich¡¯s attack against the stars. Hells, it hadn¡¯t even told Jordan that he was going to become the God of the Moon. That was a hell of a thing to leave out.

    So, even if there was a prophecy that was playing out around them, there was no telling what terrible consequences it might cause, even if it was literally true. Jordan explained some of those fears to Istiniss alone after the meeting had broken up and people started to leave. She just smiled and said, ¡°The tide will come in and out twice a day. That¡¯s the only prophecy I truly need to know. Everything else will be as it wills.¡±

    Jordan thought that was the least satisfying non-answer he¡¯d ever heard, but he thanked her for it just the same. Then, when she had departed along with everyone else, he went to his library. It was time to get some answers. Even if he didn¡¯t have the time, he would make it. There was too much he was missing, and he would have to fix that if he wanted to be ready for whatever was about to happen next.

 Ch. 199 - Wayward

    One rescue at a time, the small community that Leo and the others nourished grew. That didn¡¯t make things easier, though. That only made them harder. Even though they found more survivors on their far-flung journeys throughout the area, food remained as elusive as ever. In fact, if not for the obviously divine intervention that made nuts and berries spring into existence nearly every day, even in the winter, he was quite certain that most of these people would have starved to death.

    Leo had learned Brother Farbaer¡¯s trick to make loves of bread spring from nowhere, but it was harder than healing magic, and he couldn¡¯t do it all the time. Instead, he mostly stuck to fighting. He and his friends had broken up into two groups now. Now, half of them struck out every week to search for survivors, threats, and anything else that might be useful. As they did that, the other half of the group stayed here to defend the little town of Wayward, which had stuck, despite Cynara insisting the whole thing was a joke.

    ¡°I just meant that the wayward people could stay here until we found somewhere better!¡± she said half the time someone brought up the name around her, but that just made people want to use it more. For better or worse, it was going to be Wayward until they found somewhere to take all of these people to, and so far, the options were looking grim.

    Unlike everyone else, Leo never stayed with the group that defended Wayward. Some always stayed in the little seaside community to defend the nearly hundred souls they¡¯d gathered into one spot, and some came with him on some of his expeditions. However, he was only ever in Wayward for a few days at a time before he was back out again. At this point, there wasn¡¯t much out there, he reflected as he watched a few of the women making a meager stew with more water than roots in a large cauldron they¡¯d found on a recent trip.

    It was a good find. It was going to be a long time before anything new was made of cast iron in the area. Even basic blacksmithing was currently beyond them. That wasn¡¯t a problem now, but it would be when they ran out of weapons and armor to scavenge.

    ¡°You look worried,¡± Toman said, sneaking up on Leo as he sat there on his stump. ¡°You guys find something out there?¡±

    Leo just shook his head and answered, ¡°Nothing to find.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t quite true, of course. There was Rahkin. He¡¯d seen it on the horizon on more than one trip now, along with its plume of evil that hung over it like the thick smoke over a forest fire. He¡¯d wanted to go and explore it, but each time he¡¯d told his friends, he¡¯d been outvoted. It wasn¡¯t that they feared the dark exactly. It was that they thought he was foolish.

    And he was foolish; he didn¡¯t say that, though, not to Toman or anyone else. Instead, he just said, ¡°It¡¯s slim picking out there. If we want to find anything worth finding, we¡¯re going to have to go farther. Maybe when it warms, we can take everyone to the northwest and see if any of the Eastern Kingdoms still stand.¡±

    ¡°If Rhakin fell, then why would anyone else be left standing?¡± Toman asked.

    It was a fair question, but Leo didn¡¯t answer it. He didn¡¯t know. He just knew that he couldn¡¯t just stay here. He¡¯d wanted to save these people more than anyone, but now, the longer he stayed, the more he felt like a hound pacing nervously in his kennel. He needed more than this. There were horrors and nightmares out there that only he could slay, and his enchanted blade was meant for more than this.

    After Leo¡¯s sullen silence could be borne no more, Toman finally volunteered, ¡°I do think you¡¯re right, you know. When the weather warms, we should move on and try to find something worth finding because this¡­ Well, I don¡¯t want to stay here two winters in a row.¡±

    That was true enough, and Leo smiled as he remembered how miserable the winter had been to most of these people without proper houses. The light warmed him, though, so he barely felt the touch of the cold. He¡¯d spent half the winter in a tent out in the world, looking for things to fight, but not everyone was so lucky.

    Leo was about to comment on that, but when Sam and Rin came over to join them, Leo decided not to. Moving on was an unpopular opinion, and he didn¡¯t want to upset anyone. Increasingly, he was of the opinion that he was probably going to need to go out on his own and find someplace he could lead everyone else to, but he knew that would not go over well.

    Leo spent the rest of the evening pretending to care about the conversations that happened around him, and he managed to make a couple loaves of bread to share with the young and infirm, but none of those moments quieted his mind or made him change his mind. That night, when he watched Lunaris slowly cross the sky and lost himself in the twinkling of the constellations, he made up his mind. He was going to go north. First to Rahkin and then to all the places that lay beyond it.

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    There might not even be anything there left to fight, he told himself. We¡¯ve searched a few of the dungeons left behind by the dead, and nothing was moving in any of them.

    Was he telling himself that because he hoped there was no great evil left to face or because he was trying to let himself down easily before he went there and found nothing worth fighting? He wasn¡¯t sure, but he knew that going there was the right thing to do. He could feel it in his heart and, more importantly, in his sword. He was certain that this is what Brother Faerbar would have wanted him to do, though he couldn¡¯t quite say why.

    Even though Leo¡¯s mind was made up, he didn¡¯t leave that day or the day after. Instead, he tried to work up the nerve to tell his friends or at least make peace with the fact that leaving them was a betrayal.

    What if marauding zombies or worse attack while you¡¯re gone, and people die? He asked himself. Can you live with that? Could you live without yourself if Cynara or anyone else was dead because you weren¡¯t here to save them?

    He couldn¡¯t. He knew that he couldn¡¯t, but that didn¡¯t change anything. Neither did the fact that Cynara still sometimes beat him with wooden swords. Without the silvered blade, he was only one of the best warriors among them, but with it¡­ well, he didn¡¯t believe anything could stop him.

    Humans hadn¡¯t managed to survive in this place by chance. The forest was protecting and nurturing them. Nature deities might rank pretty far below the Lord of Light to him, but they were still a damn sight higher in his books than the evil that wandered the land.

    He struggled with the whole thing until one morning when he just didn¡¯t anymore. After that, he didn¡¯t tell any of his friends about his change of heart; he just wrote a small note and put it somewhere where they were sure to find it before he left. He didn¡¯t try to explain himself because he couldn¡¯t, and he was done tying himself up in knots about it.

    He just wrote, ¡®I¡¯m going where the Gods take me. When I find out where we are meant to be, I will return, and we can take the survivors there instead. Leo.¡¯

    Then, just like that, he was gone, going north fast enough that no one would be able to catch him easily. Leo walked through the first night and most of the second one before exhaustion finally caught him, and he slept in an abandoned farmhouse. They¡¯d look for him, but with a day¡¯s head start, they would not catch him, and eventually, they would realize the error of their ways and turn around; at least, that¡¯s what he told himself.

    In the days that followed, Leo took the long way, exploring every village and crypt that had been considered too polluted by his companions to explore on previous trips. It was in those places he finally found things worth fighting.

    Most of the dead he and his friends had encountered these days just lay there or moved weakly. It was only those who clung to the foulest patches of land, with air that polluted the lungs of anyone who breathed it, that were truly dangerous anymore. Leo couldn¡¯t see the spirits of the damned, but the old blood splatter told the story as often as not; these were places of slaughter and death.

    Sometimes, he found a mob of shuffling zombies in an old temple. Those were easy enough to dispatch. Other times, though, he encountered something larger and meaner. Those were the fights that Leo looked forward to. Fourteen-legged calvary. Siege ladders made out of a mob of people. Giant zombies with armor under their skin. Each of them was a challenge in their own way, and he learned something from ending each of them.

    It was only when the flesh giant dug itself free from the graveyard, where it had lain dormant for who knew how long, that Leo could finally admit to himself that this was the reason he¡¯d struck out on his own.

    As he dodged limbs thicker than his entire body and wove between blows that would have struck him dead, he felt truly free for the first time since they had all left Sanctuary''s gilded cage. This is what I¡¯m for, he thought as he sliced through the rotting Achilles tendon on the thing¡¯s left leg before he scampered away from where the thing was about to crash to earth. This, right here, without having to worry about anyone else getting hurt. It¡¯s just me, the sword, and whatever it is that needs to die a second time.

    It was a thrill, both because this thing might strike him dead at any moment and because this was the first creature he¡¯d faced that had been a challenge in such a long time. Challenge or not, once the thing could no longer stand, it was a sitting duck, literally and figuratively, and Leo soon chopped it to ribbons. It was a slow death, but not because he was trying to make it suffer if the abomination was even capable of such a thing.

    First, he crippled its legs and then its arms, and it was only then that he took out its spine in enough places that he could climb the shifting pile of rotting flesh and sever the giant head with blows that were more like a woodsman with an axe than a warrior with a sword. It was just too big to slay with any finesse.

    Still, when his lungs were heaving, and he stood there splattered in ichor, he watched the miasma that clung to the place start to dissipate, and he smiled. ¡°Well, at least that confirms it,¡± he told himself. ¡°There¡¯s definitely something in Rhakin that¡¯s still worth killing.¡±

 Ch. 200 - The World Below

    Tenebroum had no idea where Krulm¡¯venor got off to. That annoyed it, and not just because that vile godling could have helped with pest control once it started boring deeper into the earth. It was also that the Lich hated the idea that the arrogant dwarf might have finally managed to slip his leash. Tenebroum found that idea almost as intolerable as the idea that Oroza had gotten away and vowed to recapture him, even if it wasn¡¯t strictly necessary.

    It would either own its hound or it would have the beast put down. There was no third option.

    The hard part was now over, fortunately. After dealing with the overland logistics from its Wyrmspine Tunnel, it finally had what it needed to dig a very deep hole. These things were not easy when its army was practically down to a skeleton crew, but in the weeks that followed, it made do without any losses.

    The dark titan had been left just where the Lich had finished with it. This wasn¡¯t because it maintained some loyalty to it. It was because its leaden armor prevented it from phasing with the stone and escaping into the depths without the Lich¡¯s magic, and there was no other way out of the side tunnel it had been cast aside into when the work was done.

    It was impossible to determine what impact the long isolation might have had on the thing, but that didn¡¯t matter as long as the creature obeyed. It did, too, however grudgingly. As soon as the Lich touched its soul, it began to move and obey orders once more.

    The Lich didn¡¯t care about tormenting the earth elemental too much, though, because it had never figured out how to do so in a satisfying way. Even at the height of its power, the thing was completely alien to it, and unlike Krulm¡¯venor or Oroza, it had never found the right levers to make it suffer properly.

    Of course, Tenebroum hadn¡¯t even been expecting to find the thing, anyway. It had barely sensed the creature until it was practically on top of it. It had come for the Devourer. Though the machine would have to be taken apart and then reassembled to dig vertically instead of horizontally, it was the perfect construct for what came next, even if it had lain dormant for such a long time.

    Tenebroum¡¯s current plan was a simple one. It was going to dig ever deeper into the dark and search for more shadows to feast on as it made its way toward its real goal: the All-Father¡¯s forges. It had only the dimmest idea of where those might be, of course, thanks to the God¡¯s memories, but that was as good of a place as any to start. If the stars held back one source of darkness, then it would dig as deep as it needed to find the power that it needed. If the stars held back one ocean of darkness, then it would snuff out the All-Father¡¯s forges and find another.

    All of this would, of course, require it to further mar its glorious undertemple as rigging and scaffolding were set up so that the Devourer could be put into place. The thing was made of bone and steel, along with the clever arrangement of the teeth and claws of over a thousand kobolds that had been gathered throughout Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s long trip in the depths. It was a complicated device in that almost everything was a moving part, so some work had to be redone by its remaining forgewights before it could be locked into place. Such progress was slow, but every day, the glittering crystalline monstrosity stood a little higher and a little more complete until, one day, it was so tall it practically touched the ceiling.

    Of course, even after the Devourer was assembled and rattled to life with graceless motion, there were other problems. As the thing started burrowing downward at the rate of a dozen feet a day, the noise of all those crystalline teeth and claws scraping against stone was so loud that it even threatened to overwhelm the volume it was capable of speaking through the steam-fed pipe organ.

    That was just an inconvenience, though. The real problem was the sheer amount of waste rock that the thing generated. There were other problems, too, like the way the vibration damaged nearby components and the way the whole lair could shake quite disturbingly at times. Thanks to Tenebroum¡¯s constant construction and the growth of its lair for nearly its entire existence, there was some capacity to dispose of such dross, but not on this scale.

    Rather than speed up digging, that quickly became the dark titan¡¯s full-time job: liquifying and disposing of as much rubble as possible. This had the added side effect of strengthening the walls of the ever-growing well, but it was mundane work for a creature of such terrible power. Those magics became much more useful when the Lich¡¯s efforts ran into tunnels and caves periodically, letting it reinforce such areas without sending its digging contraption crashing to the floor.

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    While its digging never paused in such places, Tenebroum¡¯s attention did. It turned out that most of the ground beneath the earth was taken up by stone. Its godling''s infinite journey through the darkest places of the world made it seem like there would be more caverns, but they were indeed a rarity, and each time the Lich¡¯s efforts discovered one, it would explore it in search of anything that might be able to killed or put to better use. At this point, shorthanded as it was, it would even consider reanimating goblins as drudges, if only to dispose of excess rubble.

    There were no goblins to be found, though. Not at first, at least. Instead, the first thing it discovered were dwarves or at least the remains of some. Their souls had long since departed their bodies, but the evidence showed they were up to a construction project of their own that had been interrupted when their entire race had been intentionally infected with madness. After that, it found a nest of kobolds that it toyed with for a while.

    Tenebroum made sure to kill those with shadow magic to leave the bodies whole, so their prodigious digging talents could be put to use wherever necessary. Even such additions did little to speed up the progress of things. Digging this deep was a laborious business, and the Lich only focused on it when it found something interesting.

    After the kobolds it was a den of giant spiders and then a subterranean river that quickly evolved into a large subterranean lake only a few dozen feet below that. Tenebroum¡¯s constructs had no need for breathing, though. They merely kept digging, no matter what they found, and when another cavern complex was found below that, the waters above were quickly drained into unimportant tunnels and offshoots to drown whatever might have lived there.

    After that, there was a cavern of endless fungus that briefly gummed up the complicated components of the Devourer. The Lich was briefly interested in the slow-moving fungal people that occupied a small portion of the larger cavern, but once its experiments showed that the creatures neither had souls to capture nor bones to reuse in large projects, it sent a few forgewights to burn the place until it was nothing but ashes. That was the last form of life that it saw for quite a while.

    There wasn¡¯t a lot this deep, though. It recalled that Krulm¡¯venor had mentioned that once, but increasingly, the few caverns that were found were completely empty without so much as a stray shadow to devour. Such ideas swirled around in its mind from the souls of other dwarves, too. Above a certain depth, monsters existed, and below a certain depth, there were only shadows and worse. Dwarves preferred to live in the quiet area between the two, but Tenebroum wanted to drill well past those depths and keep going until it reached the center of things.

    After a while, whole weeks could pass where the Devourer found nothing but bedrock. Those times were enough to make the Lich second guess this whole plan, but it would not be denied. It could not yet have the night sky, so it would have the dark heart of the world instead.  It felt sure that the swirling shadows that had devoured so many dwarven cities were still down there, and it would feast on all of them. Ironically, that would make the depths safer than ever for the dwarves, but it was unlikely that there were any of the little men left at this point.

    Its continued diffing efforts found a slender vein of gold, once, which excited the Lich enough that it paused the larger mining project to start a smaller one almost a thousand feet beneath the surface, but that was only a distraction to pass the time. It needed the gold, of course, but even a vein ten times as rich found have been a distraction.

    In the fragments of dwarven memory, it knew that there was more wealth than it could ever put to use in the dwarven God¡¯s lair. Of course, finding that was the question, but barring another enemy to fight, the Lich could continue at this pace in perpetuity until it found what it sought. The Devourer was a very efficient machine, and digging ever deeper cost Tenebroum very little.

    It also gave the Lich plenty of time to plan and begin to lay out how its structure would need to change in subtle but important ways to accommodate the wellspring of evil that it hoped to tap. Most of the work had already been done in its rebirth, of course, but based on its first dual with the Moon Goddess¡¯s minions, there were some improvements left to be made. At this time, though, it saw no need to reinforce the well, which was growing ever deeper with runes in the same way that it had done to trap Siddrim so long ago.

    It imagined what that would look like, as delicate golden glyphs spiraled down into the dark, repeating its true name over and over. It would have been a work of pure beauty, and the part of itself that had once been Sidrim saw value in that, but in the end, Tenebroum decided against it for reasons that were more utilitarian. Such measures were time-consuming and not strictly necessary.

    No matter how deep it dug, though, and no matter how many side passages it explored, it never found its wretched little godling. That surprised it, given that it had to be much closer to Krulm¡¯venor than it had been on the surface, but then it had yet to find the Queen of Thorns or the Voice of Reason, either, which was evidence enough that it remained quite diminished in some ways. Tenebroum would fix that if it was the last thing it did.

 Ch. 201 - Purging the Darkness

    For week after week, Leo slaughtered his way through the countryside. Without anyone with him, he could go further and faster than ever before, and he gloried in it. Several times, he found a lone family sheltering in a cave or a farmhouse somewhere well off the beaten path. Each time, he told them where wayward was and how to get there, using the landmarks of his quest to guide them around anywhere he considered dangerous.

    He didn¡¯t accompany them, though, and he had no idea if they made it to safety or not. He felt guilty about that. The right answer would have been to cease his quest and make sure every one of those lives was saved, but every day not spent purging the darkness felt like it would be a waste to him. He had a sword that could not be resisted glowing in his hand and a light that was only burning brighter in his heart.

    Food, or the lack of it, no longer held him back. He could make his own bread when he had need of it, but it was the light that fed him now, and the only real nourishment he needed was after he¡¯d been wounded, which happened on more than one occasion. Each battle where he was wounded badly enough to need to repair his armor afterward was a wake-up call for him. Some small part of his mind told him that if he wasn¡¯t careful, he would fall, and no one would ever find his body.

    He wasn¡¯t one to back down from a challenge, though. Every near-death experience only taught him what not to do in the future, and he learned from each of them, be they a horde of zombies or a floating brain with tentacles that had tried to make him kill himself without much luck.

    Leo slowly circled around Rahkin, planning to come at it from the north after he¡¯d purged the various dungeons that surrounded it. They vented evil like volcanic geysers and were impossible to miss. Soon, he was able to gauge the threat of whatever lay within based solely on the color and thickness of the miasma. That made him overconfident and almost cost him his life when he found one of them full of strange, rusted men.

    He had fought all manner of abominations, including many that were made of obvious animal parts, but these were the first he¡¯d seed that weren¡¯t human in any way. At first, he thought they were children trapped in iron armor, which was a horrific thought. But as he¡¯d discovered that the strange meta men knew how to fight better than almost any war zombie he¡¯d ever faced, he quickly reached another conclusion.

    ¡°Dwarves,¡± he grunted as he parried the blow from a deadly axe.

    Such creatures were a myth, but there was nothing else that made sense with the beards and the weapons. He¡¯d always thought that dwarves were made of flesh and blood, but maybe the stories got it wrong. Perhaps they were creatures of stone and metal, and when the Lich reanimated them, they rose up just the same.

    He didn¡¯t have a lot of time to consider the question while he was fighting them, though. They weren¡¯t so fast, but they were skilled and strong. Worse, unlike most of the abominations he¡¯d put down, they actually exhibited teamwork, which made their combined attacks that much worse.

    Even after he¡¯d dispatched the creatures and studied their remains, he still couldn¡¯t decide if the things that had almost cut him off at the knees were really mythological creatures that had been returned from the dead or if they were mockeries of the myths. ¡°Why would a monster do such a thing, though?¡± he asked himself. Surely, such tricks required a sense of humor, or at least irony, and the dead had no room for anything but hunger in their souls.

    Those thoughts stuck with him for a while after that. Until now, he¡¯d assumed that the creatures he faced, from the ragged birds to the centaurs made from the rotting remains of plow horses and farmers, were no more than the scraps that the darkness had on hand at the time, but sometimes, he found creatures that made that seem less likely. Twice, he found rotting Templars whose rotting forms had been covered with very shiny armor in a mockery of the light, and in the second case, the man exploded with a thick yellowish gas when Leo put him down.

    That had made him sick for days while the light healed his burned lungs from the inside out. ¡°At this rate, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised to find a dragon,¡± he said to himself once he finished coughing up blood.

    Eventually, though, he decided he was just dragging his feet. For so long, he¡¯d told himself he needed to go into Rahkin, and now that it was there, on the horizon, he kept finding reasons not to go. There was evil out here that needed purging. His friends would look for him there. He thought of any reason except the real one: There might be something in that shadow-shrouded city he couldn¡¯t beat.

    Oh, it was one thing to secretly believe you could do anything and kill any abomination that existed, but something had killed Brother Faerbar, and no matter how hard Leo practiced and how many of the walking dead he slew, he doubted he would hold a candle to that man.

    Still, on the day Leo purged the last of the barrows he could find, he reluctantly decided that tomorrow would be the day he would find out what was really in there. The result was¡­ underwhelming.

    At first light he entered the town to find it halfway leveled. There was nothing left within the walls that resembled life. He could find neither crows nor rats. He couldn¡¯t even find creeping ivy that wasn¡¯t withered and brown. Something awful had happened here. He was sure of it. He didn¡¯t know what, but it had drained every last ounce of light and life that might have ever existed in that place.

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    Still, that was all the more reason to stay and wait to see what came out at night. That night, after he finished exploring the city for any sign of survivors, he chose the largely intact castle as the place where he would have his fight. He took the last few hours to prepare the ground and barred what doors he could to ensure he wouldn¡¯t be surrounded, and he¡¯d have several fallback locations if he¡¯d truly bitten off more than he could chew. What found him at sunset was underwhelming, at least at first.

    When the red sunlight finally faded and was replaced by the cold, distant stars, the first creatures to scuttle out of cellars and crannies in the rubble where the mangled pieces of zombies who had been killed at least once before waited out the day away from the sun¡¯s harsh light. None of them had all four limbs, and few of them had more than one or two, making them easy to dispatch as they crawled forward in a quest to devour his light.

    He was glowing literally now. That was a first, even for him. He barely took note of it while he was hacking the monsters to pieces, but when he did, he doubted it would last once he left this cursed place. After all, anything halfway to decent would burn with light in a place so dark, and no matter how many souls he set free, the miasma clung to everything like a stubborn fog.

    Those dead were merely the warm-up act, though. Other, larger, broken things came after that. There was the upper half of an armored ogre that had long since lost its legs, there was a giant spider made from the parts of men that only had five limbs and three eyes left to attack him with, and there were a few war zombies that were still in mostly decent shape, though there was nothing special about them otherwise.

    None of them stood a chance. Oh, the ogre could certainly have killed Leo if it had gotten a grip on him with those giant hands. They ripped out a door frame without an issue, and he doubted his bones would fare any better. Still, it couldn¡¯t turn fast enough to stop him from climbing its exposed spine like a ladder and embedding his glowing sword deep into its thick skull.

    The spider hadn¡¯t even been that hard. Maybe when it had been fresh, it had been a quick, dangerous enemy. Now, it was simply an arthritic zombie on stilts, which again made him wonder about whatever it was that had created it. Something or someone had labored for months and years to create this panoply of horrors, and he had trouble imagining that.

    Once those monsters were dispatched, Leo was starting to grow confident. At least until he felt the ground start to rumble and shake. It didn''t take him long to realize that something was attacking the castle because it was too large to get at him inside. So, he went up top of the battlement to take a look. The result wasn¡¯t quite a dragon, but it might as well have been.

    Someone had taken the broken pieces of sunken ships, the severed parts of sea monsters, and a seemingly endless variety of human hands and feet and created a three-story hermit crab. The thing was vile, and even after all of Leo¡¯s experience up until now, the smell made him gag.

    When his light showed up on the parapet, the thing noticed him immediately, but it was much too large to climb, so it continued to attack the wall, as it alternated between roaring in frustration and

    Still, he mounted the battlement and prepared to jump.

    Leo had no doubt he could jump onto its back. He just had no idea how he was supposed to kill the thing. The other creatures had been easy enough. Even the ogre had an obvious weak point, but this thing? It was armored in three inches of wood, and under that, it was nothing but a writing mass of evil.

    He studied the problem while the beast thrashed and flailed, and then when he identified what he thought was a cluster of eyes, he decided to make that his target. ¡°I¡¯d rather fight the dragon,¡± he said with more than a little disgust before he finally lept down to the monstrosity fifteen feet below.

    In that moment, Leo had considered a lot of things. He¡¯d considered where he would land and how he should strike. He¡¯d considered his escape plan and the thing¡¯s reach. The one thing he hadn¡¯t considered, though, was how slimy it was. He¡¯d never fought a sea monster before, and when he landed on its rough back, his legs instantly went out from under him, sending him sliding down the thing¡¯s back toward its many limbs.

    Leo buried the silver blade into the thing¡¯s side, using it to slow his descent, but as it moved, his hand slipped, and he was sent tumbling to the thick wood of the drawbridge. He was up immediately but immediately wasn¡¯t fast enough for this thing. It wasn¡¯t a dried-out, desiccated husk like so many of the creatures he¡¯d fought up until now. Its movements were fast and slick. And before he could do more than rise, rotting tentacles had wrapped around the young man and were slowly squeezing the life out of him.

    Leo¡¯s life flashed before his eyes for a moment as he looked at the glittering hilt of his magical sword embedded in the monster a dozen feet away. If I had that, I could cut myself free, he thought into despair. That moment of weakness was dispelled when the thing began to crush him even tighter as it dragged him toward its maw. The thing wasn¡¯t a proper mouth. It was just a cavern lined with rusting swords; it was nothing but a mockery of life, and it was that moment of indignity that made his light shine brighter.

    Leo Garvin the Fifth would not go out like this. He would not let the darkness take him as it had his forebearers. Leo struggled as hard as he could against the vice-like grip, determined to use its slimy nature to his advantage. It did nothing, though.

    Well, nothing, physically. His light had been visible as an aura nearly all evening in this vile place, but the more he struggled and fought, the brighter it grew. Eventually, only a few feet from rotting, certain death, the thing¡¯s tentacles burst into flame, and it shied away as Leo¡¯s light began to take a real toll on the creature.

    He thought about pressing his luck but decided against it. First, he needed his blade. Even his silver sword glowed when he pulled it out of the creature, and that made him smile grimly. As it tried to move away from him, flailing widely, he thought about pressing the fight but decided it was too risky. He could feel his broken ribs still trying to mend, and he knew that light or not, he wasn¡¯t at 100% yet.

    Instead, he pulled back, and before the thing could leave the drawbridge, he attacked the chains holding the thing in place. Each severed cleanly with a single stroke from his radiant blade, sending the bridge and the giant crab zombie tumbling into the dried-up moat. It fell there, hopelessly pinned, which was good enough for Leo.

    ¡°Let the sun take you,¡± he spat as he went back inside. He would find a place to heal and rest, and then, in the morning, he would continue his purge. If there were still things like this around, then there was more work to do.

 Ch. 202 - Purging the Darkness (part 2)

    That night was a long one for Leo. Not because of his injuries, though; they were severe. It was because of the evil dreams. In a place this dark, he felt like he was suffocating. And each time he fell asleep, the glowing nimbus around him faded enough for that darkness to touch his soul. The results were inevitably shocking.

    He dreamed of families betraying and poisoning one another. He dreamed of food riots and people killing each other for loaves of bread. Worst of all, he dreamed of some dark, towering monstrosity looming above the city that was so diffuse that no matter how many times he swung at it with his glowing blade, it simply reformed before going on to devour more families.

    In the dream, Leo¡¯s light protected him, but that did little good for anyone else, and all he could do was struggle in vain against it while he wished to be stronger. There was nothing he could do against a monster like this, though. The brighter he glowed, the more it retreated, but that didn¡¯t stop him from eating the rest of the world, like some kind of miles-tall jellyfish or hydra.

    Leo woke bathed in sweat as he tried to sort out dreams from reality and looked for threats in the small room he¡¯d sealed. Fortunately, he was alone, even if it didn¡¯t feel that way.

    ¡°Were those just dreams or¡­¡± he wondered aloud, unable to finish the thought. Or did those things actually happen.

    It was a hard thing to consider, but he didn¡¯t really have another choice. He¡¯d never dreamed such awful things before, so either the evil here was toying with his mind, or some parts of what he¡¯d seen had actually occurred. It was a terrifying thought to consider. What could have possibly happened to these people to make me think their souls had been ripped out like that en masse? He wondered as he started taking apart the barricade that had kept him safe last night and started poking around the castle.

    The rest of the building held no answers either. It contained a few bodies here and there that he beheaded just to be sure, but except for an ominous bloodstain in the throne room, there were no real signs of violence. Anything valuable had been stripped from the place. There were neither tapestries on the wall nor anything made of gold or silver.

    Leo wasn¡¯t sure if that was the evil that had done this, though, or if looters had come after. ¡°Looters would mean that someone out there is still breathing, at least,¡± he said hopefully. Trying and failing to imagine what undead evil would want with tapestries or gold coins.

    Leaving the castle was somewhat harder than entering it had been because it no longer had a functioning drawbridge, but when Leo went outside, he saw that the giant grab was now nothing but a smoldering pile of ooze. He found a way across that gave him a wide berth to that mess, and then he spent the rest of the day searching basements in the other large buildings of the city.

    That became his routine for the next few weeks. He¡¯d thought that the ruination of Rhakin meant that searching through the city would go quickly, but instead, it just meant that there were more places for the darkness to hide.

    Some days, he found abominations laying in wait beneath the stairs or in the darkest crevices beneath collapsed buildings, and some days, he found nothing at all, but every night, more monsters rose up from the dead and sought him out. As always, they were made of mangled flesh and rusted metal, though, occasionally, he found more ghostly opponents that only needed him to burn brightly to dispel.

    He wanted to. He wanted to keep purging this city of evil until the black plumes that showed its taint had vanished completely, but it wasn¡¯t that easy. The reality was that after the first couple of days and the first dozen nights, there really wasn¡¯t much left to kill. Terrible things had happened in this city, but when the evil that had slaughtered this place was done, it had left to go destroy something else, and only the dregs were left now.

    It felt like such a waste, and he wanted to ask himself what all this destruction was for, but then the truth was the destruction was what it was for. ¡°Evil for evil¡¯s sake,¡± he sighed, remembering the line that Brother Faerbar often quoted from the Book of Days. ¡°The dark requires neither logic nor purpose. It darkens and despoils merely because it is.¡±

    The words might be true, but they offered him no solace. Leo wished then that the Templar had told him and the others more stories about fighting the dark. He¡¯d seen more than anyone but had, for obvious reasons, been reluctant to delve too deeply into the topic when speaking to an audience of children.

    ¡°Perhaps I should go to Blackwater,¡± Leo mused. He didn¡¯t know where that was exactly, but he knew it was somewhere to the southwest. If Jordan¡¯s stories were to be believed, you could see it from dozens of miles off because of the inky spire of shadows that soared into the sky, but realistically, it wouldn¡¯t be hard to find. All one had to do was follow the river west until it became the Oroza and then follow that south until¡­

    ¡°Until what?¡± he asked glumly, kicking rocks. ¡°Whatever happened there is even older than whatever happened here. Whoever¡¯s behind all of this¡­ whatever happened¡­ they¡¯re likely long gone anyway.¡±

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    It was depressing. It was like the world had been abandoned, and Leo and the rest of them had been left behind. Even Jordan was gone now, and Leo was fairly certain he hadn¡¯t seen a hundred people since Sanctuary shattered.

    There were only two choices, though, and since one of them involved returning to his friends so that he could apologize for running off on his own, he chose the other: kill everything that moved. Leo spent the next few weeks methodically going from house to house and purging anything he found.

    He said prayers for the dead that looked like victims more than monsters, and he chopped the monsters into pieces so small they¡¯d never rise again. When all that was done, he looked at what else there was to do, and it was only then that he found the catacombs beneath the city.

    That was where he found monsters made of pure shadow. Oh, there were creatures of flesh and blood, too, but it was the inky wraiths that surprised him.

    Leo finally thought he¡¯d found the true evil that hunted this city when he was attacked by a sinuous twelve-headed hydra from the darkness, but he was wrong. As terrifying as the things were, they were incredibly easy for him to defeat. The wraiths might look terrifying, but unlike the shadowy leviathan of his dreams, they were utterly obliterated by the touch of his glowing blade.

    When the hydra lashed out at him, he cut off half a dozen heads with his glowing blade on impulse, cauterizing the stumps and doing enough damage that the thing began to fade away almost immediately. That fight was over before it started, and the ones that followed were not much longer.

    Gruesome creatures of every description lurked in the catacombs and ossuaries beneath the city. There were slender shadows of men with knives for fingers and animals that belonged in nightmares and mythology. They were less of a menagerie and more of a tide, but Leo fought his way through the flimsy force without complaint, dissipating as many shadows as he could until one day, he found himself wandering the crypts, utterly alone.

    Like moths, they¡¯d been drawn to the flame only to die from it. They couldn¡¯t help themselves, and now, just like that, the wound had been lanced, and there were no more shades left for him to purge. To say it was disappointing was an understatement. Still, there were the occasional skeletons left to fight, so even though all this work had done little to remove the pall over Rahkin, he kept going.

    Every monster I kill is one less than can ever hurt anyone else again, he told himself as he delved ever deeper. The words rang hollow, though. He still felt like he was wasting his time.

    That was when he found the wyrm. It wasn¡¯t a real dragon. It couldn¡¯t be, but it was a collection of bones that was held together by dark magic that might as well have been. One moment, Leo was walking through the winding paths of an overloaded ossuary with a ceiling so high that his light was lost in the darkness, and the next¡­ well, the next, he was standing amidst a storm of bones, doing his very best to parry the worst of them, as a gigantic dragon assembled, and lashed out at him.

    He hadn¡¯t even suspected that there¡¯d been something this dangerous left in Rahkin, not after all the recent days with so little to show for them. Now, suddenly, he was fighting for his life as blows rained down on him. Unlike the shadows, this thing was a very real threat. Though its swirling bones weren¡¯t strong enough to get through his armor, the blows of its giant claws or its snapping jaws would have been enough to crush him or cut him in two.

    Leo dove and rolled as much as he parried and struck, desperate to stay one step ahead of the beast. He succeeded in that much, but even if he¡¯d wanted to escape, he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d be able to make it to such a far destination before the thing devoured him.

    How do I even kill this thing? He wondered in frustration as he did his best to cleave bone after endless bone. There were tens of thousands of the things, though, and he would run out of the energy to swing his sword long before it ran out of pieces for its body.

    When the thing looked like it was about to breathe fire on him, Leo thought it was all over for a moment. He could get hurt pretty bad and recover, but something like dragon fire or a storm of bone shards might well flense him to nothing.

    That wasn¡¯t what happened, though. Instead, it was nothing but a cloud of darkness that was burned away by his light. He had no idea what such an attack might do to someone who wasn¡¯t so well-prepared, but then, no one would ever find out because he was going to finish this. As his light pierced the dark and dissipated that foul breath weapon, he¡¯d seen the true core of the thing hiding there inside the bony skull, and he struck.

    Leo didn¡¯t run toward it or leap in the air to strike it. Instead, he extended the light from his blade, striking at the thing from halfway across the room like it was some sort of lance. No, it was longer than that. It was a beam of pure light, and in the instant it pierced the dark heart of the draconic monstrosity, the whole thing fell apart.

    It was only then, as bone pieces rained down all around him, that he leaned heavily against the wall, gasping for breath, that he noticed the rats. Leo¡¯s first thought was that they were the first he¡¯d seen exploring this city. The second was that they didn¡¯t appear to be alive. Dead or not, that didn¡¯t stop them from looking at him with intense, hungry eyes.

    Leo had come a long way since he first tried to channel enough light to take out a blackbird. This time, it was effortless. He simply reached out, and the first one burst into white flames. The others scattered as that happened, but they weren¡¯t fast enough. Fire followed them, even past his gaze. Some magic he did not understand linked them together, and where one burned, another soon followed. He watched the light ripple its way down the hallway he¡¯d been getting ready to go down as each unseen rat briefly became a torch before it was snuffed out for good.

    ¡°Who would reanimate rats?¡± Leo asked, with a shake of his head. Perhaps an evil mage still lives somewhere here, he thought to himself. Perhaps he¡¯s spying on me from afar.

    Leo didn¡¯t know whether that made him want to keep digging through the rubble for more evil or if he should try to escape before whatever trap was sprung. Either way, it sent a chill down his spine and made him think that perhaps he should make some time to see his friends soon. Things were getting weird. He¡¯d been gone for months now, and if he didn¡¯t show up soon, they¡¯d almost certainly decide that he¡¯d died somewhere along his adventure.

 Ch. 203 - Something New

    It hurt the Voice of Reason to watch the glittering white city of Tanda burn, but safely inside her glittering prison cell, she had no reason to fear. Still, as she watched slender towers topple and gardens burst into flames, she thought that if she had the option, she would have gladly sacrificed herself to end this.

    It wasn¡¯t just that she abhorred violence where there were other ways to solve conflicts, either. It was that the city had been a work of unparalleled beauty, and she hated to watch it suffer, even from her distant location, somewhere beyond it. From here, she could look up at the night sky and watch the battle very easily.

    Normally, her view consisted of stars that were people¡¯s lamps and cookfires. They were predictable lines and constellations that were shaped by the streets of the city, and she¡¯d grown to appreciate them. Even if the distant view robbed her of all the beautiful details that she knew were there, it let her appreciate the whole thing in a holistic way that might not have been possible otherwise. That was, at least until the sun rose. Then, all those fires were extinguished, and she was alone in the dark with her undead servants until sunset started the cycle anew.

    Tonight, though, the city was burning, and as a result, the skies were on fire, especially on the northeast horizon, farthest from the harbor, where the city wall that was the edge of her world had been partially torn down, and the monster that had done all this damage was coming through.

    The Voice of Reason had no idea why the giant beast was attacking the city. She didn¡¯t know if there had been negotiations or a conversation. No one had told her anything.

    All she knew was that for the last three nights, terrible battles had been waged, and men had died. Even from this distance, she could smell that much death on the wind. Now, though, the city¡¯s vulnerable underbelly was laid bare, and it was inside the defenses. It was nothing that she recognized.

    The monster was as big as a house. With words like rat and wolf being thrown around up until now, she hadn¡¯t been sure exactly what she was expecting, but it wasn¡¯t this. This was sure savagery. Men were ripped in half, and other terrible things, though from this distance, she had trouble making out any details. It was visible only by the malevolent glow that came from the constellations of fire and destruction that surrounded it.

    Once, it looked up past whatever barrier separated them, and she could have sworn that it saw her, even though she was being kept in a prison that didn¡¯t really exist physically. It was a chilling sensation, but soon enough, it was gone because that was the moment that Tanda Nihara chose to take the field.

    The Goddess of the city was not a warrior. She was a merchant and an artist, and when she fought, it was not with her hands but with the walls of the buildings that surrounded the beast.

    Masonry twisted out of place in a series of avalanches that rained tons of brick on the giant chimera. The streets gave way, allowing it to fall into the sewers to be buried alive. Each of these attacks would have murdered any number of mortals, but against this monstrosity, they only slowed it down enough for defenders to regroup. Theirs was a hopeless cause, though, for the thing¡¯s claws were nearly as large as the scimitars that were wielded against it, and free men, along with eunuch slave warriors, died in droves.

    For a time, the Voice of Reason lost sight of the monster as the destruction continued, and she tracked its progress only by the fires and the lights that went out along its path. When it finally reemerged from the smoke and the dust, it was practically at the palace, but after everything that had been done, it looked only a little worse for the wear.

    The battle that followed there was brief. She¡¯d seen mages fight her dark lord¡¯s forces in the final days of Rahkin, but this was different. Here, the mages didn¡¯t use fire and lightning; they called down shooting stars and vicious blasts of sand. The former stopped the monstrous juggernaut for a time, but the latter made no difference as far as she could tell from this distance.

    It was only then, when there were no other options, that Tanda Nihara fought the thing herself with blades of crystal and spears of stone. She was outmatched, though. The Voice could see that from the start, in so far as she could see anything from so far away. When the monster sent the stone woman reeling, the Voice¡¯s heart went out to her, but something about the beast''s presence made it impossible to cry out.

    Then, just like that, the fight stopped. Suddenly, the chimera had the City¡¯s Goddess on the ground and could have finished her off, but instead, it paused, looking to the south. Then, it turned and started racing back the way it came so quickly that she wasn¡¯t sure what had happened.

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    Did she find some threat against it? The Voice of Reason wondered. Is there something that a creature like that actually fears?

    Before she could think too much about that, the Goddess manifested in front of the Voice, phasing out of the wall before collapsing on the ground. She was gravely wounded, with huge claw marks that would have seen her disemboweled if she¡¯d had any internal organs to worry about.

    Instead, she lay there weakly as the Voice rushed over to her. ¡°What did you tell it?¡± she asked. ¡°What did you do to scare that thing away?¡±

    ¡°Me? Nothing,¡± Tanda Nihara grunted in pain. ¡°It just found something it wanted more. It will be back to finish the job, but by then I¡¯ll be gone, so it won¡¯t matter. I just wanted to free you first so you could get away before¡­¡±

    The Goddess tried to keep going, but the pain took her breath away. For a moment, she just lay there struggling to breathe.

    ¡°Shhh,¡± The Voice of reason whispered, holding the dying Goddess in her arms. ¡°The beast is gone. You may yet recover.¡±

    ¡°Against that monstrosity? Hardly,¡± Tanda Nihara gasped. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t matter. As long as Tanda survives, that is all that matters. Where the river meets the sea, there will always be a harbor, and the city that commands it will forever be a jewel.¡±

    She was hurt badly in her fight with the monstrosity that had torn down her walls. Her marble skin was crumbling, and maggots were squirming in the claw marks that marred her previously pristine body. The Voice was repulsed by them but would not let her die alone. After all, she might not die. Despite what had happened to her, she might yet live. She was a goddess, after all.

    The Goddess of the city stayed there like that, drifting in and out of consciousness while she babbled about her people and how she would rise again. She should survive this, the Voice realized as she looked at the night constellation, which was the city above them. It is not a mortal wound.

    The fires still burned, but less than before. The city would recover in time, so long as the monstrosity did not return soon. The Walls would be rebuilt, the black marks would be painted over, and new mosaics and statues would be made to replace the ones that had been shattered. Still, despite that, Tanda Nihara did not wake.

    In fact, a few hours later, when the lights began to go out, plunging the Voice¡¯s strange oubliette into darkness because the thin light of dawn did not reach here, something bizarre happened. Instead of healing, or even growing still and cold like the statue she appeared to be, the wounded woman simply started to dissolve into sand as the essence of her body was no longer enough to maintain it.

    That on its own would have been odd enough. The Voice of Reason was no true mage, and she could only barely feel the small surge of essence with her dead skin as the stone Goddess drifted away to the ether. Despite that, she was surprised when the dead flesh of the princess she was clothed in began to ossify.

    She stood up, worried she was about to be frozen in place. She blamed me for this, the Voice thought. Perhaps this is one final punishment. A prison within a prison.

    The idea of being frozen in place as a statue for eternity in a pocket dimension somewhere beyond the edge of the world was horrifying, but fortunately, that was not what happened. Even as her legs turned to stone, she found that she could bend them and move normally.

    That was a relief, but it was not an answer. Instead, all she could do was watch as the stone slid its way up and down her limbs and wait for whatever was going to happen next. She wasn¡¯t even sure how she¡¯d fight this thing if she wanted to. All she could do was approach one of the many full-length mirrors she kept in the palace, which was her gaudy cell, and watch as it consumed her.

    It was only in the final step, when whatever was happening finally encased her beautiful face in a thin layer of marble, that she finally understood. The Goddess was dead, but the city still had enough strength, thanks to the power of its people, to power the divine, and it had chosen her to wield it.

    Was that simply because she was the most magical being left in the city? Was that because she¡¯d been closest to the old Goddess when she¡¯d passed away? The Voice of Reason had no idea. It might have simply been that she loved it most aesthetically.

    Whatever the case, she was overwhelmed with new information at that moment as she transcended from being the puppet of a dark god into a tiny godling herself. Suddenly, she could feel everything and everyone within her bounds, and she was unsurprised to discover that she liked it.

    A half-dead city needed a new Goddess like her; that only made sense. She would be a good steward, though, and help it to become beautiful once more. As she made that resolution, the gold that held her fractured porcelain form together started bleeding through her new stony skin, lending glimmers and streaks of gilded beauty to the whirling patterns of gray that had previously existed within the white marble while she looked on in the mirror.

    A moment ago, she¡¯d looked so similar to the palace walls; now, she was something new. The Voice of Reason pursed her lips for a moment as she watched the gold blossom across her skin before deciding that she liked the change. It was her true nature, after all, and there was no use hiding it. The citizens of Tanda would know soon enough that she¡¯d been reborn.

 Ch. 204 - The Forge

    The Devourer never stopped chewing deeper into the stone now. There had been some breakdowns at first and the occasional oddity to side-track Tenebroum, but that had been before it had felt the heat. It was getting close. It was certain of that.

    The rest of the world fell away as it bored deeper and deeper into the dark. If the All-Father still breathed and his dwarves were still sane, then they would have certainly found a thousand ways to stop this project. They were gone now, though, and nothing stood in the Lich¡¯s way.

    Well, nothing except the terrible heat of the All-Father¡¯s forges. For a time, the underground rivers that the Devourer had already intersected were enough to keep it cool while it did its job. Eventually, all of those boiled off, though, and drudges had to be ordered to pour water down the endless well one bucket at a time. It was no longer a straight tunnel, thanks to its meandering search for the heart of the world, but it was over a mile down now, and the work that was being done happened so distantly that it could no longer be heard even when the steam organ wasn¡¯t playing.

    None of that distance made Tenebroum stop thinking about it, though, as its reserves dwindled. It found pockets of shadows in the depths sometimes now. It was deep enough for such hungry shades to flock and swarm, but they were nothing compared to the feast it was looking for, and it waited very impatiently for that day to arrive.

    Then, one day, it did. The Devour was doing the same thing it has always done, chewing slowly through hard igneous rock that was dense enough to resist even the touch of kobold claws and teeth that the worm of metal and bone wielded so efficiently, when it finally came upon a cavern like any other.

    Most of the periphery was filled with lava, and in the center was a forge too large for any man, let alone dwarf, to use. Tenebroum could barely exist close enough to see it because of the light, and in the same way, the Devourer was forced to retreat because of the heat as it began to smolder because of the heat. With a brief command, it pulled back its dark titan as well.

    Tenebroum was sure that the stone man could withstand the heat, but it was equally sure that the lead bindings that chained it to the Lich¡¯s service could not. No, only the legion of rust might hope to brave these temperatures, and even then, they might not withstand them forever.

    The Lich withdrew, though it wanted to scream in frustration at the turn of events. ¡°You are dead!¡± it ragged at the dim memory deep inside its soul. ¡°You are dead, and your forge fires should have long since grown cold!¡±

    No part of the All-Father responded to that, but then he couldn¡¯t. He was now only one soul among an infinite chorus of fragments. The Lich would have to solve this itself.

    Fortunately, after a little thought, it decided that there was a fairly simple way to do just that. It would reroute the Oroza and drain the river into the depths, killing two birds with one stone. It would weaken his escaped pet even further if she yet lived, and it would extinguish the Forge of Creation so that it could get at the darkness of primordial chaos that was sealed somewhere behind it.

    This would take time, though. The last thing it wanted to do was flood its entire lair again, now that it had just been cleaned and rebuilt. Given all the work it had done to put this well of darkness to work, though, the groundwork had already been laid, even if accidentally. Slowly, over the course of hours, the plan came together in its vast mind, and as it did, its drudges dutifully got to work.

    It would use the disused river entrance that Oroza had entered so long ago, seal off all of the side passages, and construct a tunnel that led to the well of darkness, which it would reinforce at all critical junctions. Up until now, it had largely ignored many of the places where the walls met caverns, but now each of those represented a leak that would divert water off into the darkness instead of its real goal of putting out the forge father¡¯s blasted fires once and for all.

    Work was slow in both directions, but then, it was in no hurry now. What it truly wanted was all but within its grasp. There was no one at these depths to trouble it any longer, and the surrounding area on the surface had become nothing but a blighted wasteland. That will only accelerate once the river dries up, it thought eagerly as it surveyed the blight that was everywhere now. It was rare to even see a bird or a rodent at this point, and though the earth around its tower was still stained black, for leagues in every direction after that, it had turned gray on this side of the river.

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    Tenebroum missed the days when it had lives in every direction that it could siphon from or snuff out as it willed, but it did not regret the path it had taken. The road to power was long and winding, and though the Lich never imagined that it would have to drill deep into the bowels of the underways, it all made sense in retrospect. Long ago, even before it had crawled from the swamp, it had grafted itself into the world, carving its secret name deep into the stones. So, if the world belonged to it, then surely all the darkness beneath it and all the night sky above it did as well, didn¡¯t it?

    Once I have achieved this, the mongrel won¡¯t stand a chance against me, Tenebroum mused. I will flay its soul to nothing. I will torture it until it begs for the sort of kindness I showed to Krulm¡¯venor and Kelvun.

    That thought brought to mind its dread tome, and the Lich quickly reoriented to bring its attention back to the book. It had been using it less and less since its phylactery had been sundered, but that didn¡¯t mean it should neglect it entirely. ¡°Show me everything we know about where Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s journey,¡± Tenebroum commanded the Skoeticnomikos. ¡°After that, I want to see everywhere The Queen of Thorns has been and everywhere she might have gone next. My minions cannot have simply vanished.¡±

    Tenebroum was too weak to seek them out just now, but soon it would have all the strength it would ever require, and it wanted its dark pantheon to be reassembled to witness that crowning moment. While it brooded, the book''s pages filled faster and faster, with a long, meandering path deep beneath the world at a depth of almost half a mile. That was the tome¡¯s best guess as to where Krulm¡¯venor was. Since the dwarf required the Lich¡¯s command to do anything at all, it must still be raging away in the Iron City, looking for things to destroy.

    The Lich wanted to believe that was true, but it was unconvinced. Such a fate would be too perfect, and nothing had been going right since the Worm had nearly ruined everything.

    The Queen of Thorns and even the Voice of Reason were more concerning. They had much more free will than the truculent fire godling, and neither of them had come home. That, more than anything else, indicated a real problem. Either the loss of their connection to it had snuffed them out like a candle, or they had decided that they enjoyed their freedom.

    The former would be tragic, as such a fate would indicate that most of its vast armies had all but dispersed in its absence. The latter, though¡­ such a thing would be unforgivable. If it discovered that they yet existed when its current goal was in hand¡­ well, it would devour them screaming and replace them with someone more loyal.

    Tenebroum brooded on these thoughts as it stared at the map of all the woods its dark nature Goddess had already subjugated. It noted that there was nothing anywhere close to Constantinal that had not been conquered by her. If those territories no longer belonged to it, and such powers were flowing to her instead, then she might be a mighty foe in her own right. Its concern grew as it began to contemplate various cholorium-based contingencies it could enact in the worst case.

    From there, its minds spiraled out into a dozen different directions. With nothing to do but wait, the Lich attended to dozens of minor tasks and half-forgotten experiments, chiefest among which were putting together the many shattered bodies it had so carefully created back together. With any luck, it would never need them, but that wouldn¡¯t stop the constructs from standing there in mute testament to its glory, just as its honor guard had done for so many decades.

    Time slowed to a crawl for the Lich as it lost itself in a thousand petty pursuits. It studied its dark titan for some clue as to what its alien, broken mind was thinking, it poured over the Skoeticnomikos for some clue as to where its minions might be, and each night, it studied the stars, looking for weak points in the patterns that separated it from the limitless sea of darkness.

    Then, just like that, it was time to open the floodgates. Tenebroum had been so lost in its other thoughts and schemes that it had not noticed the passage of time. The Lich turned and reflected, viewing the entire system one more time and noting how like a living thing its giant earthen body had become. It now had a mind, a nervous system, channels for air and water, and, of course, all of that was built for the single purpose of its own survival.

    It had grown too grand in scale for anyone else save another god to understand it, but it did not care. It wanted nothing from mortals except for their bodies and souls, and soon it would have them. With that thought in mind, the Lich opened the floodgates and released an endless torrent of water into the depths. Soon, it would have everything, and it would never go hungry again.

 Ch. 205 - A Chance Encounter

    Leo planned on returning to his friends. He really did. He just had no interest in taking the direct way back to Wayward. That was both because he felt guilt for lingering so long away and fear that they might have already moved on.

    He could face a horde of zombies now without blinking. He could fight abominations that would freeze most men twice his age in place with fear. What he had trouble with was the idea that he might go back only to find the place abandoned and be stuck fighting alone for the rest of his life. That was a terrifying thought, and as long as he kept at it,

    So, he was more than a little surprised when he found some familiar faces foraging through the same semi-abandoned town he¡¯d been about to dig through himself. Of course, Leo was only looking for another fight, whereas Toman, Sam, and Cynara were looking for something more useful, like food or tools.

    When he saw them, his first impulse was to explain, and his second, paradoxically, was to run before they noticed him. Leo wasn¡¯t a coward, so he resisted that and instead started walking toward his friend. Sam did a double take and had her sword halfway out of her sheath before her eyes widened, along with her smile.

    ¡°By the Gods, it¡¯s him!¡± she gasped before yelling a second time, ¡°He¡¯s here, everyone. We found him. We found Leo! He¡¯s alive!¡±

    That was enough to get everyone¡¯s attention, and on instinct, he looked around the area, worried that such noise might attract unwanted attention, but there was nothing in the area. He¡¯d long ago killed the undead of the region, and now the dark plumes that marked the worst of the evil were all but gone.

    That¡¯s one more sign that I should have returned months ago, he chastised himself as he embraced Sam, noticing how she¡¯d grown since he¡¯d been gone. She was more woman than a girl now, but then the same was probably true for him.

    Leo might have chastised himself, but no one else did. That would come later, he was sure, but for now, it was all hugs and smiles as they finally confirmed he was still breathing.

    ¡°We thought you were dead!¡± Cynara said as her hug lingered just a little longer than Toman or Sam¡¯s had.

    ¡°I never even came close,¡± he lied, not sure what he should tell them about his adventures to date.

    Instead, he just listened as they explained how much Wayward had improved while he¡¯d been gone. ¡°It¡¯s got so many proper cabins now that we might have to name it something else,¡± Toman said with a laugh as they all sat in the shade of an elm and caught up. That earned him a swat from Cynara, who still hated the name, but it was clear that Toman had been expecting it.

    ¡°Between the fish and the hunting, food is rarely a concern these days,¡± Cynara explained cheerfully. ¡°It''s a proper town now, with houses and gardens. We might even get our first crop of wheat this year, but the one thing we¡¯re really missing is tools.¡±

    ¡°And people,¡± Sam chimed in.

    ¡°And people,¡± she agreed. ¡°There are just so few left. We eventually sent people all the way to Rahkin, but there was no one there.¡±

    ¡°Rahkin?¡± Leo answered, finally, with a shake of his head. ¡°No, there wouldn¡¯t be there. That place is dead. I was there for months and months, and I never found a soul that was still breathing.¡±

    ¡°Months?!¡± Sam cried out. ¡°Months?! How could you have been there, and we still didn¡¯t find you. I told you that¡¯s where he went. I told you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s one of the places I went, and most of the time, I was pretty deep in the catacombs looking for more of the dead,¡± he answered, deciding not to mention the bone dragon, the zombie crab, or any of the other grotesques he¡¯d struck down along the way. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have found me, but hopefully, you found some of the survivors I sent your way.¡±

    ¡°The Johansens and those merchants?¡± Toman answered. ¡°Yeah, they made it safe and sound. They¡¯re the only reason that we still held out hope that you were alive.¡±

    Of the three of them, Toman seemed angriest with him. He¡¯d grown, too. He¡¯d grown into a fine young man, too, and at less than a year older than Leo, he was obviously still his semi-permanent rival, even if Toman no longer had a chance of beating him after all he¡¯d been through.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it,¡± Leo nodded, relieved. At least someone had made it.

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    There had been other groups, but if his friends didn¡¯t mention them, then they hadn¡¯t been so lucky, and he opted to keep that sad fact to himself. It was his failing in a way, so it was his burden to bear.

    ¡°You know what else would have been good to hear?¡± Toman continued. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Or really, any message. That would have been nice.¡±

    Leo sighed as Cynara said. ¡°Stop it right now, both of you. This is not the time for arguments. We¡¯ve only just been reunited!¡±

    Leo nodded sadly to that, but Toman''s face darkened. Then he got up and stormed off. Leo thought about going after him, but he was exactly the wrong person to do that. His presence would only make everything worse.

    ¡°This is all my fault,¡± he said finally.

    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± Cynara agreed. ¡°But at least you¡¯re okay. Which means you can still fix it.¡±

    Leo smiled wanly at that. He would do exactly that. If there was nothing left to fight, then what else could he do?

    ¡°Tell me how everyone else is,¡± he said finally. ¡°No one was seriously hurt while I was gone, or¡­¡±

    ¡°How could they be after your killing spree,¡± Cynara laughed. ¡°There¡¯s nothing left in a hundred miles that can hurt anyone now.¡±

    ¡°Two hundred at least,¡± Sam said, joining in.

    Leo thought it was probably further than that, but he didn¡¯t tell them that. He¡¯d ranged past Siddrimar and most of the way to Abenend and Fallravea before he finally turned back. Instead, he just listened to the girls as they told him about everything he¡¯d missed and what everyone was up to.

    It was strange to hear someone talk besides himself after so long, but it was nice, too, and he basked in the sound of familiar voices as he lay on the grass, even when things turned to unfamiliar topics. Apparently, Reggie and Tara had gotten married, and Rin was thinking about marrying one of the Merchant¡¯s sons. It shocked him, but it shouldn¡¯t have. They¡¯d all be trapped in the bodies of children for years longer than they should have been because Taz had stopped time for a very small piece of the world.

    Life had to move on, though. At least, it did for everyone but him. Even after the conversation waned, he caught Cynara stealing glances at him, and he was pretty sure he knew what that meant. He might not understand girls anywhere near as well as he understood combat or taking apart undead abominations piece by piece, but he knew when he was in danger, and the way that the tall blonde girl looked at him certainly felt dangerous.

    Still, that day, when they finally stopped chatting and finished searching the village, the only thing of note that happened was that, eventually, he and Toman made peace. After that, Leo told the other boy about some of the lesser abominations he¡¯d killed, but only so he¡¯d feel included.

    ¡°We haven¡¯t seen anything more dangerous than a few decrepit war zombies in months,¡± the older boy sighed, obviously conflicted about what it would be like to fight an undying hermit crab the size of a house.

    ¡°Me either,¡± Leo answered, sympathizing. With all the strange social tension in the air right now, he¡¯d give anything for some terrible creature that he could chop into pieces.

    Nothing like that happened, though. Instead, they sheltered that night in a long-abandoned home, and then, the next morning, they set out to the place that Leo had been avoiding for so long.

    It took them three days to notice that he wasn¡¯t eating. ¡°Why not?¡± Sam asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to anymore,¡± he answered with a shrug. ¡°The light sustains me.¡±

    He could see that they¡¯d all grown in power since he¡¯d gone away, but he¡¯d grown more than all of them put together. None of his friends could hold a candle to him anymore. That didn¡¯t bother Leo, of course. This wasn¡¯t a competition. All that mattered was that there was no room for darkness in any of their hearts.

    He eventually relented and tried a bit of the rabbit they were roasting but didn¡¯t care for it. Instead, he made bread and shared it with them. Apparently, he wasn¡¯t the only that knew that trick now, but they accepted it greedily just the same.

    ¡°So, can you make anything else?¡± Cynara asked, sitting down next to him by the fire.

    ¡°Like what?¡± Leo asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she answered with a shrug. ¡°Tara and Mela can make Bread now, too, and they don¡¯t have half your power, so I just wondered what else you might be able to do that we couldn¡¯t.¡±

    Besides go for days without sleep and months without food? He thought with a smile.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can just summon a feast on command, but I can try¡­¡± he answered awkwardly, not quite sure what his powers could do. After all. The only reason that any of them even thought to try making bread was because they¡¯d seen Brother Faerbar do that much. It¡¯s not as if they had anyone around to teach them how to use the light they¡¯d been gifted.

    Leo tried creating a roasted turkey without success. Then he tried making sweets and even turning water into wine, but nothing happened. It was only when Sam suggested that he try fruit that it actually worked.

    ¡°By the light!¡± Cynara exclaimed.

    Instead of a loaf of crusty bread resolving in his hand, a whole handful of strawberries appeared, which quickly vanished into their hungry mouths. It was a small miracle, but considering it was nowhere near strawberry season, he would take it.

    It felt weird to Leo to be using his power for something besides murder, but maybe that time had passed. He¡¯d been given a magic sword, and he''d used it well. Leo had purged the land for weeks in every direction. When he looked at the way that Cynara was smiling at him, he thought that maybe it was time to focus on rebuilding what they¡¯d lost and try to make a new world that was better than the old one.

 Ch. 206 - A Return to Normalcy

    Leo¡¯s return to Wayward was as uproarious as he feared. The entire village, which mostly consisted of people he didn¡¯t know at this point, stopped everything they were doing to celebrate his return. It was exactly the opposite of what he wanted, of course. He just wanted to slip back in and pretend he¡¯d never left, even though he knew that was quite impossible. Some reacted like Toman, but they were in the minority, and a meager feast was called together for later that night.

    The feast might have been too strong a word. There was plenty of dried fish and bland root stew, which was more than enough for him. There was also some bread, though it had been created with light rather than grain. Still, Leo didn¡¯t complain. He still couldn¡¯t eat more than a few bites at a time without feeling completely full anyway.

    The event was dominated by his presence, which was no surprise either since it was in his honor. He was peppered with questions and spent half the night making fruit for people on demand between telling stories about some of his adventures. He mentioned a couple of the giant monsters in passing, but mostly, he focused on how empty it was out there now that both the monsters and the men were gone.

    ¡°It¡¯s like a new world,¡± he explained. ¡°There aren¡¯t even any goblins. It¡¯s like the zombies ate them or something. We could go anywhere and do anything.¡±

    ¡°Why would we need to go anywhere?¡± Tara asked as she squeezed Regie¡¯s hand tighter where she was sitting across the fire from him. ¡°We¡¯re building something right here.¡±

    ¡°You are,¡± he agreed, looking around.

    The place really had come a long way. There was a thatched roof over every head now, and though some of those homes were still crowded with several families, it was only a matter of time before there was a cabin or a cottage built for everyone here. That would be an accomplishment in itself, even if it was a rather primitive one.

    Soon, primitive houses would line crooked streets, and gardens and fields would stretch out into the distance. It wouldn¡¯t be such a bad place.

    What¡¯s the next step, he wondered. Do we make bricks? Does anyone even know how to make bricks? He had no idea. He certainly had no idea. He was pretty sure they involved fire and clay, but after that¡ª

    ¡°No, we are building something right, aren¡¯t we,¡± Cynara said, correcting him very publicly.

    ¡°We are,¡± he agreed, a little chagrined. ¡°I¡¯m just saying that we could do anything.¡±

    ¡°We are doing anything,¡± Reggie agreed, looking back to his wife. ¡°We¡¯re building a new world.¡±

    Leo didn¡¯t comment on that because he wasn¡¯t sure what to say. Instead, he was relieved when Toman finally asked, ¡°So, do you think we¡¯re the last people left in the whole world then?¡±

    ¡°Probably not,¡± Leo answered honestly. ¡°The world is a big place. I¡¯m sure there are other survivors hiding here and there just like we are.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not hiding,¡± Toman answered defensively.

    ¡°We¡¯re not,¡± Leo agreed, ¡°But you know what I mean.¡± After that, Leo laid out what he thought had happened to everyone.

    ¡°It¡¯s pretty clear that we lost, for starters,¡± he began. ¡°Humans, I mean. If evil had lost, then there wouldn¡¯t still be undead roaming around. They¡¯d just be corpses. I think that the main body of the force continued north, gathering strength as it went. That¡¯s the bad news. The good news is that since they purged the area of everything worst killing, there¡¯s no reason to come back, so I think we¡¯re safe.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t the most hopeful message he¡¯d ever given, but it was honest, and it spurred a lot of discussion about whether they should or shouldn¡¯t build a wooden palisade around Wayward. Most people thought they should, but even though Leo knew it was pointless, he went along with it, if only because it would make everyone sleep a little better.

    That night, the spotlight only left him when Sam showed everyone her own small miracle. She¡¯d been working with Mela while the others were talking, and inspired by the strawberries and apples that Leo had been making for everyone, they¡¯d made wheat seeds.

    ¡°I noticed that when I bit into the apple, it still had seeds,¡± she explained, ¡°So I thought, maybe we could plant them, and then it occurred to me that if we could create one kind of seed with the light, then we might be able to create another¡­¡±

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    ¡°That¡¯s genius,¡± Leo said with a smile. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I think of that?¡±

    ¡°Because it had nothing to do with a sword,¡± Cynara taunted.

    Even he laughed at that, and the group of them spent the next couple of hours trying and sometimes failing to make seeds for many of the different plants they missed most. When he finally went to bed in the bunkhouse that had been built for the unmarried men hours later, Leo was tired, but they had started a small seed bank that might be able to give the people of Wayward one of the things they¡¯d missed most when the next spring arrived: real agriculture, without all the messy gaps and missing cultivars they had currently.

    That wasn¡¯t why he lay there in the dark smiling, though; it was because the mocking grin that Cynara had given him lingered long after her words had faded and the bonfire had gone out. It wasn¡¯t the reason he came back. He knew that. It should have been, though.

    The next day, he got to work in earnest. He couldn¡¯t use the light to create meat, so animals were out of the question, but they had found a few goats, sheep, and pigs in their wanderings, and small herds were slowly growing. Now, they could work on other things like wheat, barley, and potatoes, and soon, in a generation or two, things would be back to normal.

    He left the more complicated aspects of how that would happen. Instead, he got to work, with shovel and axe, slowly carving away at the land in the ways that they needed. It wasn¡¯t as enjoyable as carving up monsters, and no matter how he sharpened his axe head, it didn¡¯t cleave through the wood the way his silvered blade sliced through his enemies, but it was what they needed, and now that the darkness had been banished for a good, long way in every direction, this was what the light needed now.

    Some of the other men complained about feeling naked when they left their weapons at home. Leo never joined in those complaints, because he¡¯d long since figured out how to banish and summon his own blade. He would never be unarmed as long as he could channel enough light to make it appear and disappear at will.

    He never had need to summon it, though, because there was no longer anything left to fight. With the darkness gone, the light could finally grow. That meant more than fields heavy with wheat. That meant families and children. Those thoughts inevitably made him think of Cynara, which usually made Leo blush before he refocused on the task at hand.

    Despite the fact that he worked with the men, he still somehow managed to run into her almost once or twice a day. That shouldn¡¯t have been a surprise, of course. Wayward was a tiny village with just over two dozen structures that were only slowly evolving into something more. It was easier to see everyone at mealtime than it wasn¡¯t. Still, something about those encounters always made him feel special. Like it was meant to be.

    It was shortly after spring started in earnest that those feelings only blossomed further, though. Toman, of all people, had figured out a new trick to do with the light. Not wanting to be outdone, he¡¯d spent days and nights in the field tending to their small crop of wheat and other staples. At first, this had been just to keep the animals away from the tiny precious plants, but as time went on, he discovered he could use the light to bless them, too.

    The result was easy to see. Only a few weeks after the last frost, the fields were alive with plants that looked like they¡¯d been growing for months. The celebrations that followed that discovery were even more joyous than Leo¡¯s arrival. He wasn¡¯t jealous, though. Well, he was jealous that he hadn¡¯t thought of Toman¡¯s idea first, but only a little.

    After all, it only made sense. Plants needed light, and he and his friends were suffused with light, more or less. Why shouldn¡¯t one go with the other? In the nights that followed their impromptu spring festival, they spent an evening wandering the fields singing the old hymns that Brother Faerbar had taught them all in what felt like a lifetime ago.

    The fields outside their small village were a wide place that was many acres across, but even so, with so many of them weaving the light and blessing the plants, it looked like a swarm of fireflies had infested the whole area. It was like the stars had come down to dance, and they danced with them. It wasn¡¯t a joyous moment like it had been during the recent festival. It wasn¡¯t somber, either, though. It was more of a reverence.

    Leo had dreamed of healing the world with the light, one sword stroke at a time, but in a way, this was better. This is what they should have been doing all along if only they¡¯d known that they could or even that they should.

    That night was almost as exhausting as combat for him, but by the time he was done, wheat was ripening, rows of maize were growing tall, and fruit trees had grown into fine saplings. If we do this every week or two, we might have two or even three harvests this year, he thought to himself as he slumped down against a tree and watched the few remaining fireflies dance in the fields beyond.

    That was when Cynara found him. Even without the dancing lights, she was a vision of loveliness, but tonight, she had a glow about her, and when she sat down beside him and started talking to him, he could barely formulate a response to whatever it was she was saying.

    It should have been the perfect end to a perfect evening as the two of them sat there. Instead, Leo had to go and ruin it by kissing Cynara. She didn¡¯t complain. Quite the opposite, she kissed him back eagerly, like she¡¯d been waiting for this moment for longer than he¡¯d thought to do it. Still, after a long minute, when they finally came up for air, he couldn''t help but feel like he¡¯d changed everything with that one little thing.

    He burned for her, but that wasn¡¯t what he was supposed to be burning for, was it? Didn¡¯t he have some greater purpose than to marry a beautiful girl and settle down?

    He wasn¡¯t sure. However, he gasped as he gazed into her beautiful glowing eyes, and he had a hard time trying to convince himself that they shouldn¡¯t do that again.

 Ch. 207 - Quenching the Forge

    When all was in readiness, Tenebroum opened the floodgates and sent dozens of cubic yards a second cascading into the darkness below. In time, the river might run dry, but if that happened, thanks to its efforts to salt the river and weaken her further, the canal would not run dry until the oceans did.

    None of the spirits that swirled within the Lich had any idea how much water it would take to quench the fires of creation or what the consequences might be. The mages didn¡¯t know, and neither did the dwarves. Even the All-Father didn¡¯t know. The spirits of the dwarven dead all seemed to believe that the fires would eventually go out on their own if the forge went unused for too long, but no one had any idea if that would be years or decades, and the Lich was unwilling to wait one day longer than it had to.

    So, instead, it emptied the river and sent the flood flowing into the depths. Even falling as fast as it was, it still took several minutes for the first drops to reach the fiery depths. These evaporated before they even made contact, but the same could not be said for the wall of water that followed.

    The eruption of steam that followed was enormous, obscuring the whole cavern in a blanket of scalding fog. Tenebroum knew nothing about volcanos or engineering, but some of the dwarven spirits did, and as the lava met with the torrents of water, they whispered what was happening. They explained how the pressure was building in an attempt to erupt but was unable to because of the sheer weight of the water.

    Instead, the steam rippled out through the surrounding passages and caverns, doing untold damage and making the stone itself shake so violently that it could be felt all the way on the surface. After verifying that the tremors caused no real damage, Tenebroum ignored them. Instead, it focused on the elemental battle occurring miles below.

    There, fire and water in their purest forms were battling out, releasing torrents of air and slabs of earth. It was, in its way, a perfect elemental laboratory, and just watching the way that the four elements interacted gave the Lich new ideas and theories it could try with its elements. It had used them separately, but it had never mixed them together in an attempt to cause such a powerful reaction. Such a thing could be a potent weapon.

    Still, it set that idea aside for now, and instead, it focused on the pure fury it had unleashed. No matter how much it drowned them, the fires of creation refused to extinguish. Instead, each time the magma cooled enough to become the base stone it should have been, those boulders would sink beneath the fiery surface, and the process would repeat all over again. Sometimes, eruptions would occur between these small, shifting plates, causing fresh new eruptions to occur repeatedly.

    It was a scene of primordial chaos that seemed like it would last forever, but no matter how long it took, the Lich could not turn away. The cavern was a vast place with the All-Father¡¯s anvil in the center, but all of that was hidden by the storm of swirling steam. All that Tenebroum could see was where its poisoned waterfall came down like a pillar of water and vanished before it could become the lake that it should have become.

    Slowly, that changed, though. Day after day, the water came down, and eventually, the magma that it struck first turned to hard stone. Slowly, almost too slowly to notice on any given day, that area of fully solidified stone began to spread, and just as slowly, the endless fog began to dim.

    Until now, the white haze was underlit by the infernal red and yellow glows of the lava. That, combined with the intense heat of the place, made it impossible for the Lich to enter and explore whatever the All-Father had left behind for it to discover. However, that would change. Day after day, and if necessary, week after week, both of those would diminish, and eventually, it would be able to explore this forbidden sanctum with impunity. It relished those thoughts, but even as it did, it watched the water slowly decrease in its flow until it was all but stopped.

    That was when the steam rocketed to the surface. The Lich fumed, worried it had finally run the river dry, but that turned out not to be the case. Instead, one of the stone walls its minions had built almost a quarter mile above this hellish place had ruptured, and the water that should be quenching the forge was now filling some nameless cavern and flooding the depths instead.

    If it had been drowning a dwarven city or something similar, Tenebroum might have accepted such a miserable delay, but the race was all but extinct at this point. There might not be a single dwarf left at this point, which made this a complete waste of time. Unfortunately, there was little it could do about it. As the steam rocketed hire, it detonated that section of the tunnel, causing fractures and cave-ins that stopped the flow entirely.

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    Tenebroum growled in frustration as it considered its options. Why must it always be something, it thought to itself. First the stars, and now the steam. The darkness is only ever just out of reach!

    It could send the Devourer back down to bore a new hole. This would take time, but it wouldn¡¯t be impacted by the water. It almost did just that until a few swirling voices in its soul pointed out that as soon as the blockage was cleared, the thing would be swept down and dashed upon the rocks far below.

    Though the Lich was perfectly willing to sacrifice such a pawn, it had no idea whether or not it would need the complex machine again. Instead, it set it aside and opted to use its Dark Titan instead.

    ¡°Circumvent the blockage and craft a new channel through the bedrock,¡± the Lich commanded.

    The elemental creature didn¡¯t acknowledge the command or make any reply. It never did. It was always silent as it got to work.

    The creature of stone and lead would not be nearly as fast as the Devourer. Rather than ripping and breaking apart the stone with teeth and claws tailor-made for the task, it manipulated stone similarly to the way that dwarves did, but making it malleable and molding it like a piece of clay. This would create a stronger path for the terrible pressures involved at those depths, making it an acceptable compromise.

    While the Devourer could move feet of stone every day, the elemental could move only inches, so the workaround was even slower than Tenebroum had feared. Still, the thing worked tirelessly, and after a few weeks of endless waiting, the path was once again open.

    This time, much of the steam and, indeed, much of the heat had dissipated. Whether it had known it or not at the time, the Lich had been on the verge of success.

    So, while the cavern began to fill with water, the darkness that was the Lich¡¯s soul followed it in, and began to search for anything of value that it might add to its resources. The anvil was the largest thing. It was impossible to miss and also seemed to be made out of pure Adamantite or perhaps even something stronger. Such a thing represented an impossible trove of riches. The only problem was that  Tenebroum had no idea how it would break the thing apart and reforge it into something useful.

    Fortunately, that wasn¡¯t the case with everything else. The hammer that went to the forge was missing, but the Lich knew exactly where that was. It was still resting at the bottom of the dead cathedral that had witnessed their dual not so long ago. Fortunately, there were any number of small implements made of mithril and other rarer things that would tide the Lich over until it made plans for the anvil.

    Around the main anvil were smaller ones that were presumably used by the forge master¡¯s servants.  Any number of smaller projects lay around in states of partial completion, and then beyond those, in a dark room that seemed to go on forever, it found the mother lode.

    Amongst the weapon and armor racks were nearly endless sets of weapons and armor that had been made and set aside. The dwarven spirits it had absorbed whispered that these were always being constructed so that the stone men could fight the world¡¯s end when the day of judgment arrived.

    Well, that didn¡¯t work out for you, did it? The Lich mused as it prowled the rows, looking through the endless axes and horned helmets that sat there oiled and ready for use. It could outfit an infinite number of zombies now, which was Ironic, considering it had so few at the moment. Unfortunately, it had no idea how it could get all of these to the surface. Even with a mithril chain, a crane of such length seemed out of the question.

    Before it could give that problem much thought, though, it noticed something. It was almost fully dark now. Only a few flickering flames guttered in the highest ground, and even now, that water was climbing higher and higher to reach it. One by one, Tenebroum watched those go out as the room got darker and darker, quietly celebrating its victory. It had very nearly extinguished the forge fires of creation. It had done the impossible.

    Then, suddenly, the darkness was complete; nothing could stop it from going even deeper and finding out what exactly this beacon had been holding back for so long. The Lich rejoiced in that, but before it could explore deeper or reactivate its Devourer to continue on its journey, it felt another tremor. Another quake, it wondered. But the steam has stopped.

    It took the Lich a moment to realize that this wasn¡¯t the stone making further complaints.

    It was a different sound that was heard as much as felt. Something was coming.

 Ch. 208 - Primeval

    he shadows came roaring down the tunnel with every bit of the force that the water once had; Tenebroum gloried in them, at least at first. It let the tide of darkness wash across and rejuvenate its threadbare form.

    The leading edge of that tide were the shadow creatures that Krulm¡¯venor had called the silent. They had been down in the dark so long they had forgotten what the last soul they¡¯d even eaten was. So, instead of wearing the shapes of others, they were nothing but ragged and indistinct outlines. That didn¡¯t save them from being devoured by Tenebroum¡¯s hungry maw as it siphoned them up one after the other.

    They were nothing but fish, and they were devoured greedily by the Lich as they tried to swarm past him. The souls were thin. There was identity left to them and little in the way of essence, but little was more than zero, and each one added to its dwindling reserves.

    As the Lich grew in power, it absorbed more souls at a faster pace than before. It was a vicious cycle. Tenebroum got stronger, which in turn made it get stronger faster. It had experienced this before, at several points in its history. When it had devoured Siddrim and the All-Father were some of the highest points of its existence, but when it consumed Rahkin, and it had tasted thousands of lives within hours, as well as when it had devoured the silent shadows of Ghen¡¯tal, it had experienced a similar rush.

    This was almost as much essence as those had been, and there was no sign of stopping. Instead, the shadows that were coming out of the bowls of the earth, where the All-Father had imprisoned them, were slowly getting larger and more well-defined. Most of them bore the faint shape of men, though without enough detail to say anything about the age they came from.

    There were other animals, too, including some like horses that could only be found on the surface, that hinted at some things that didn¡¯t make sense. How would these shadows reach the surface as long as the sun, the moon, or the stars were always shining, it wondered.

    The Lich had no answers, though, and neither did the souls that it feasted on. In its new configuration, it felt like it could gorge forever on this flow, and so far, at least, it showed no signs of abating. It was possible it might peter out at any moment, but the Dwarves seemed to think it was a limitless reservoir of evil, and they recoiled at what it had done. They could not escape it, though; no one could. All it would take to stop this tide, theoretically, would be a single candle, but the Lich would never light one. Instead, it would feast.

    For the next few hours, the size of the creatures that emerged from the depths began to increase in size. Tenebroum found the dark tunnel to the absolute void that they were traveling from on the far side of the dwarven armory, past the fortifications and the locked doors that had been burst asunder by this endless tide.

    Now, there were orcs and ogres, as well as bulls and even larger creatures for which the Lich had no names. What had started as a school of flickering, formless fish had become an army stampeding toward its waiting maw. It was at this point that Tenebroum finally had the answer to one question that had been nagging at it as it bathed in the unrestrained flows of essence.

    Why haven¡¯t they devoured each other? It had been asking itself for as long as it had been feasting, but it had to see a creature of significant enough size to answer that.

    It finally became clear when it saw the shade of a troll devour the shade of a man just before Tenebroum devoured them both. As it ate the man, it fissioned apart, releasing several smaller ghosts of the things it had devoured recently. These were, in turn, devoured by nearby orcs. It was a cannibalistic food chain that no one derived any sustenance from as they looked for scraps of life.

    Indeed, for anyone else, there would be no essence here at all. It was only because Tenebroum was so attuned to the darkness and had such a rigid form that it could devour and contain so many dead souls that would have simply leached the soul out of a living thing.

    Tenebroum wasn¡¯t alive, though, not in any sense that mattered. It was a nexus of death and darkness. Its powers over disease and decay had atrophied with the loss of the Worm¡¯s touch, but that was, for the moment, irrelevant. Right now, all it needed was its mastery of magic and darkness.

    At least, that¡¯s all the Lich thought it needed. That was until the first truly mammoth creature found its way out of the labyrinth that had contained it for so long. At first, the Lich thought that it was the ghost of a whale swimming through the inky blackness. That wasn¡¯t right, though. A whale didn''t have a jaw that could unhinge or a hinged carapace.

    Whatever it was, it was the first creature that tried to devour Tenebroum rather than the other way around. It had no chance of succeeding, of course. It spread its toothy maw wide even as it approached the Lich¡¯s event horizon and began to unravel. The most it could do was offer the very slightest resistance to what happened before Tenebroum turned it into raw essence, like everything that had come before it.

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    It was the first large creature, but it wasn¡¯t the last. Tenebroum knew nothing about the nature of animals and how they might be related to each other or what might exist on far-off continents, but as the parade of shadows continued into its waiting maw, they only grew larger and stranger.

    These were animals that had little in common with anything that it had ever seen. The only real parallel was the behemoths it had glimpsed beyond the stars. Eventually, after barge-sized slugs with razor spines and hydra worms with a thousand mouths, that became Tenebroum¡¯s only real conclusion. These things must have been down there for so long that they predated the sun and the stars themselves.

    It wasn¡¯t sure what to make of that. It had never given thought to the idea that permanent darkness might have existed before it had brought it to the world for a brief time.

    Soon enough, the parade of monstrosities was beginning to provide a real challenge to the Lich. It was stronger than it had ever been. It was radiating so much cold from the consumption of so many shadows that the once boiling water was now freezing into place.

    Neither ice nor anything else could stop the tide of darkness, though. All Tenebroum could do was consume, less it spill over. It was only after days, or perhaps weeks of feasting that it finally found what it was that this herd of grotesques was stampeding away from. Until that moment, Tenebroum had thought that they were simply seeking to escape from their prison, but when the first giant crawled forth from a shattered gateway that was much too small for it to ever fit through. Still, the thing fit through all the same.

    In fact, once it was in the cavern, the Lich¡¯s soul had grown to almost entirely occupied, the whole thing warped, becoming larger than it ever should have been as the fifty-limbed and hundred-headed monstrosity rose and stretched, reveling in its full height after what must have been a very long imprisonment.

    Tenebroum was again surprised when the thing started to speak. It spoke no language that the Lich or any of its souls understood, and yet, somehow, the meaning came through. ¡°You have quenched the fires of creation,¡± it said in dozens of voices. ¡°I thank you, paltry shade, but the only reward I can offer you is a quick death.¡±

    The Lich had no fear of the threat, and the battle was soon joined as the giant fought against the maelstrom of frozen souls with no clear advantage to either party. Is this some dark god from an age past? It wondered as it thrashed and gnawed. Will it have some terrible trick to play on me like the worm?

    Tenebroum banished that doubt as soon as it appeared. Just because it had been bested in a single fight did not mean all dark gods it encountered might have some secret advantage over it. The Lich had slain more than one god already; this was just an opportunity to add another one to its list.

    Surely this soul will be valuable too, it decided. It will have answers to questions I have not yet thought of.

    Tenebroum fought back with all its strength. A week ago, or perhaps even a day ago, it might not have been revitalized enough to face this impossible monster, but if it could attack with fifty arms and legs, then Tenebroum could attack with 100. It needed to, too.

    Soon, the problem wasn¡¯t the creature it was facing but the avalanche of other monstrosities that traveled in its wake. Every minute spent wrestling with an ageless titan was another where it was being gnawed on by a thousand varieties of unnamed beasts.

    That was when Tenebroum withdrew. Not because it was afraid or even because it was losing. What it was engaged in at this moment was very clearly a stalemate that it would eventually win. However, time was not on its side. Just because this thing was the largest creature to come from the bowels of the earth didn¡¯t mean that it was the largest thing that would come from them. It would be in real trouble if two of these nightmare giants appeared.

    So Tenebroum disengaged and moved swiftly back up its borehole to its lair, which was its true place of power; it left only ice and enemies in its wake as the tide of monstrosities gave chase. All of these monstrosities were as incorporeal as it was, so neither the blockages nor the ice troubled them at all. Instead, it became a mad rush to the surface, though that took several minutes. While the Lich returned, it made a series of urgent orders to its minions, who extinguished all the fires and other lights in the main chambers but lit them anywhere that the Lich didn¡¯t want these creatures to wander off to.

    They would be entering its sanctum. That much had to happen, but it would not allow them to go anywhere that would represent a real inconvenience or danger. That would be unacceptable.

    By the time Tenebroum returned to the undertemple, the stage was set, and the lair was thrumming with power. It was here that it showed off all of the efforts that had gone into rebuilding and restructuring the edifice in the wake of its near death.

    Miles away from its ring, it had only a fraction of the power that it had here and now at its heart. The outer ring that contained the eighty-eight golden skulls that were its new phylactery throbbed with so much power that black lightning arced between the nodes, relaying its thoughts instantaneously.

    The Lich had more essence than it had ever thought possible now. It spun like a whirlpool, creating a singularity of power where it now stood, ready for anything. As the dark titan crawled out of the hole that led into the depths, Tenebroum was ready for it. Before, the two of them had been a near match, but now the Lich would rip it to blood shreds after it finished yanking off its prehensile limbs one at a time.

 Ch. 209 - Primeval (Part 2)

    When the Titan emerged from the hole into the depths at the center of Tenebroum¡¯s lair, it was just part of the flood. Shadowy monstrosities raged past it in all directions. In the past, the Lich would have gone to great lengths to avoid letting its enemies encroach on its domain, but sometimes, enemies were best fought at the very heart of one''s power, despite the risks. After all, it had been necessary for Siddrim; who was to say it wasn¡¯t necessary for this thing or whatever might flow out of the depths next.

    The giant spirit looked no differently here than it had in the icy caverns miles below where they now stood, and it immediately tried the same tactics. It once again attempted to distort reality here, as it had done below, shifting the space between spaces to make the already large cathedral practically boundless so that it could, in turn, make its already huge size even larger, but that was a trick that Tenebroum no longer allowed.

    Here, the Lich had absolute power, and nothing stirred even as the magic rippled outward through the stone and tunnels of its true body. It owned these stones by graven letter and magic links for half a mile in any direction, and the monstrosity would find not even the tiniest crack that it could leverage against it.

    ¡°That will not work a second time,¡± the Lich intoned loudly through the steam pipes of its organ in a series of voices that were almost musical. ¡°Nor will I allow you to escape.¡±

    ¡°Escape?¡± The Titan asked with two dozen heads in its alien language, leaving the rest of them to laugh at the idea that it clearly considered preposterous. ¡°You are the one that has fled. Since you led me to somewhere so interesting, though, I will forgive you for wasting my time. I¡ª¡±

    The Lich did not wait for the monstrosity to finish speaking before it struck. Instead, it lashed out from every direction at once with a swarm of hundreds of inky black tentacles. Here, it had the strength to manifest as much power as it wanted, and right now, it was overflowing with darkness to fuel even its strongest attacks.

    It had dozens of appendages to fasten to each of the giant¡¯s limbs. That was saying something considering that even without its strange distortions, it was nearly tall enough to reach the vaulted ceilings of the undertemple some forty feet above its head.

    It ripped and tore at Tenebroum¡¯s tentacles as it tried to get free and mound some kind of counter-attack. There was nothing for it to fight back against, though. The Lich was everywhere and nowhere now.

    Sometimes, it succeeded in dissipating them completely with its monstrous strength, but when they were destroyed, it was no great loss. They were ephemeral things that were less connected to it than the zombies it wielded. More often, though, the Titan merely severed them after the things had started burrowing into its very soul to sap its strength. This was a trick that Tenebroum had learned from the Queen of Thorns and the way she devoured other nature spirits, and it served it well here.

    That would not be enough, though, because the Titan continued to gain strength the same way that Tenebroum did: by devouring and absorbing the neverending herd of monstrosities that was still erupting from the depths. That was why the Lich had decided on this form of attack, though. It didn¡¯t seek to murder its opponent; that would be counterproductive. It wanted to cocoon it away from the world so that it had nothing to feed on. In a way, it wasn¡¯t so different from what the small god of Constantinal had done to it so long ago. The only difference was that Tenebroum would finish in hours what that godling had hoped to accomplish in decades.

    ¡°You think you can tie me down with these parlor tricks?¡± the dark Titan¡¯s foul voice yelled in defiance, but the Lich ignored it.

    The thing might feign unconcern, but it had already had a dozen arms and legs ripped off by the force of the Lich¡¯s infinite attack, and many of the others were at least partially bound. Tenebroum saw no way for the creature to resist. It tried using its strange magic again, singing a complex chorus of words in a way that was similar to how the Lich had learned to cast its strongest magics, but the Lich was ready for that.

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    It could not understand the language that was being used to cast the spell that the thing was conjuring, but it didn¡¯t have to. It could feel the way that each word rippled in the ether as it tried to manifest some power that it thought would save it. The Lich could see those effects, and so it counteracted those efforts easily enough by creating a counterspell in real time and blasting it out of its eighty-eight mouths in scream after well-tuned scream.

    It was long past the time that Tenebroum would have to adapt and endure to its opponents. From now on, that would be a problem for its enemies.

    It was the lord of this place. It was a god of darkness with a shadow that was cast halfway around the world. No one could do anything in its presence if it did not allow it, certainly not an aging relic without a spark of light to fight against a force of darkness.

    There was a moment, toward the end of the fight when the thing tried to communicate with Tenebroum again. It roared incomprehensibly in its alien tongue before it was silenced forever. Whether that was to beg for mercy or offer some kind of deal, the Lich would never know. This wasn¡¯t an equal; it was just a larger piece of prey than normal, and it was now fully tangled in Lich¡¯s web.

    Slowly, the Titan¡¯s bloodless blue limbs were wrapped one at a time by the Lich¡¯s grasping appendages. Soon, the thing was drowning in inky blackness in a way that could no longer be properly expressed by darkness or shadow. It was no longer a part of the world in any real sense. It was already practically consumed and only a few more steps from being digested completely.

    In the depths, the two of them had fought for days to a standstill, but up here, Tenebroum had all but won within an hour. Even now, the monstrosity that had dared defy it was all but dead. It might still struggle, but that was all that it could do now, and resistance only made the process of rending it apart that much more satisfying.

    You weren¡¯t as even as worthy a foe as the All-Father, Tenebroum thought bitterly, wishing that it had a real challenge.

    The real challenge on its mind would almost certainly come in the form of the moon and the stars. It would be soon, too. Even as it started to formulate a new plan and exactly how it would best use this much power, though, the memories of the Titan that it had finally devoured began to bubble to the surface, and the Lich turned away to focus on those.

    What it saw was confusing. There were no context clues to say where they were or even when they were. The mountains looked different, and the oceans had only the faintest waves. There did not seem to be much in the way of forests, either. Instead, it watched the Titan lord over a host of things that were barely men from the peak of a stone ziggurat.

    The whole scene struck Tenebroum as primitive, though it took it a while to say why. Swamps and poverty existed in every age, after all. It turned out that the missing detail was that the creatures had not even invented steel or iron yet. Most of the troglodytes wielded implements of bronze or stone, but before the Lich could study that, the scene was shifting. There were other titans, too, though none of them were the size of the thing it had just defeated.

    There were no remarkable insights here, the Lich decided, after watching the dizzying array of strange images flicker by it. It was ready to tune the entire affair out and refocus on the moon, and the situation outside that had passed by in its absence while it had been focused on the fires of creation.

    It paused from doing that when it saw the sunrise, though. According to the memory, such a thing was unprecedented and threw everyone who saw it into panic. Before that moment, there had never been a sunrise before, apparently, which was an idea that the Lich found both odd and desirable. Instead, the world had been lit merely by wandering stars, and ugly, squat creatures had struggled with monsters amidst the foggy fern forests and the flat, swampy seas.

    Such insights were inconsistent and sometimes even contradictory, but the idea that once there had been no sun, and then there was, fascinated the Lich. Moments ago, it was hopelessly bored with frog people or what it was they were doing, but now it was taking in every last detail as it struggled for insight on how to best fight the light.

    There was no fighting the light, though. Not then. It razed the entire civilization to ashes in a single day and sent even their gods deep into the earth looking for shelter. Tenebroum watched as the decades and centuries played out after that in the blink of an eye, but still, the pale things merely cowered and did nothing to strike at the gods above. They simply raided the surface for food and retreated before the end of the night, much like the goblins now might.

    That part of the things story might have gone on forever were it not for the dwarves. They had steel and slaughtered the primitive monsters, sending them ever deeper in their quest to get away. After that, the memories became indistinct. Tenebroum didn¡¯t need to see more. All it needed to know was that these things had failed, and light had taken their world as a result. It would correct their mistake and would use their strength to do it.

 Ch. 210 - A Brief History Lesson

    From his view of the glowing orb high above the world, Jordan saw many things. He saw places he¡¯d never dreamed of and faraway cultures he¡¯d never even heard of before. There were too many to list, though the ones that worshiped the moon in some capacity were most apparent to him, and not all of them were in a pleasant way.

    In the faraway land of Rogan, the Ananani dwelt high in the mountains, and each month, they sacrificed living, breathing men and women to him every month to make sure that the new moon regrew and had the energy to become the full moon once more. On the plains of Morrin-kahm, the horse lords of Vargol held ecstatic rituals and dances on the night of each full moon. People didn¡¯t die to these, at least, but they could be crippled or maimed just the same.

    Jordan would have rather spent his time watching over the children, but the Lich¡¯s efforts had let a host of shadows sneak through the barrier in places where they were spread too thin. Now, it was up to him, as much anyone, to resolve that and expunge them one thin moonbeam at a time, wherever he found them. This, of course, required him to spend as much time turned away from the heavens as he ever had before, but he¡¯d gotten so good at the constant game of chess in the sky that it was slowly but surely become an afterthought, letting him track down monsters made of darkness one at a time.

    Shades, silent, shadow behemoths, and the menagerie of evil that lurked out in the outer darkness of the night sky were fearsome opponents for the living, but they were nothing to him. All he needed to do was spot them, focus for a moment, and they would evaporate into nothingness.

    Sometimes, he found other opponents that could not be dealt with quite so easily. He noticed that Tanda seemed to be recovering from its brush with a fearsome monster, but there were no signs of undead about. Indeed, the strangest thing about the city was the shadows that it cast. Something wasn¡¯t right about the place, but he could not exactly put his finger on what it was.

    Still, as his gaze drifted further north, he saw that the Lich¡¯s armies had almost completely stopped their efforts to conquer. They no longer had the strength to take the field against an army of prepared men. Instead, they dwelled in caves and prowled in the shadows, looking for the unwary. Despite the fact that some of the monsters''s more powerful servants still existed and several castles were still firmly under their sway, they were no longer a force to be feared. Instead, they were an endemic pest that would still kill hundreds or thousands more before they were rooted out.

    Even with all that searching, though, it took time before Jordan spotted the true threat once more. Unlike the servants of the Lich or the shadows, the beast that Lunaris¡¯s prophecies spoke of moved fast and hid cleverly. It was only because Jordan traced the path of destruction down from Tanda that he found it at all.

    As soon as he found it, though, Jordan knew where it was going. Leo. Jordan did not know when or where the two of them would meet, but as long as Leo held the silvered blade, they would have to. That was the way that destiny was written, after all. As Jordan watched the giant chimera, it became apparent that it was searching for the light-eyed boy, too.

    As the monster moved south once more and prowled angrily through the ruins of Rahkin following the months-old scent of light, Jordan could not intercede directly, though. Theoretically, nothing stopped him, of course. His knowledge of things that should not be was the only thing that bound his hands; if he¡¯d never seen that damned book, he would have done his best to kill or weaken the thing, but as it was, that was not his part to play.

    He could have, at any point, tried to strike Malzekeen down with pure moonlight, even though it wouldn¡¯t have worked. He could have also warned the children directly that it was coming.

    Prophetic dreams were certainly in his purview as the God of the Moon and stars. However, except for the occasional dream to assure his children that Leo would one day return and that the boy was fine, Jordan resisted the urge. Were it not for what he¡¯d read, both in the Book of Ways before he¡¯d ascended and the other journals that he¡¯d begun digging through now that the stars had returned to their proper places, he would have, but he knew two things with certainty now.

    The first was that this was hardly the first time such a scenario had played out. Jordan had reviewed hundreds of volumes of his library, often at random, and he had found nothing but the same miserable histories playing out over and over. For human nature, he expected that much, of course, but it seemed that in the same way night followed day, bad times followed good, and evil rose up again and again throughout history.

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    Malzekeen wasn¡¯t the only agent of this destruction, of course, but they were one of the most common and most powerful, thanks to the unholy combination of war, plague, and famine that had fused together. There had been others throughout the ages, though. The Weapers, Pardeshmerah, the Star Stealers, Kalagoth¡¯s Horde, and even giant monsters from the deep had all risen up at some point to endanger the world, but each time they¡¯d been beaten back.

    The Great Serpent of Gadorah had eaten the sun once, and now its bones merely made up an archipelago of some size far off the western coast. The Gods had apparently worried that it would arise once more, just as Malkazeen seemed to every few centuries, but so far, they had stayed quite quiescent, with only a single volcano that erupted boiling blood to indicate that any life remained in that old darkness.

    The second thing that he knew, thanks to the things he¡¯d read in the Book of Ways, was that any intercessions he could make were likely to make things worse. At least, that had been the way of things when he was a mortal, and it didn¡¯t seem likely to have changed now that he¡¯d become a God, especially since he no longer had the book.

    Well, since the book no longer works, he thought in frustration as he looked at where it had sat on the shelf. He¡¯d let it sit in the field for months before finally risking a trip to the world below to retrieve it, but it was nothing but a book full of empty pages now. It was inert.

    Still, as it had slowly taken his sight, he¡¯d learned many things that all amounted to the same thing. To see the future was to see the path laid out before you, and the temptation to leave it and try to find some shortcut would only amount to folly. He¡¯d seen a hundred ways to kill Taz, but all of them had ended with some or all of their deaths.

    It was ironic, but the right answer had been to simply sit on his hands and read while his eyesight faded. It was the opposite of heroic, and he expected that Sister Annise had suffered much the same fate. After all, she¡¯d come to warn them of danger, only to lead directly to her own death.

    Why have a book that told the future if he didn''t dare to do anything to change it? He couldn¡¯t say.

    The tome was a tool of prophecy, but that was hardly unprecedented throughout history, and he was slowly discovering that. Prophecies seemed to be almost as regular in their rhythms as the cycles of the moon. There were prophecies for when this sun would die and when that evil would rise, and right now, the prophecy that seemed to matter most was when the new dawn would come and chase away the shadows that had haunted the world.

    He could only find parts of that one in Lunaris¡¯s journals. She had not thought to leave him a complete version of the thing for easy reference, but then maybe that¡¯s because he wasn¡¯t meant to know it. It was clear enough to him at this point, though. A boy born of darkness would wield a sword of light and cause the sun to rise once more. It wasn¡¯t especially clear if Leo would be that sun or he would die in the fight, but there was little Jordan could do about that just now.

    Despite scouring her books, that was all the information he could find. Well, that and all the information that Siddrim had taken to prevent it. For a new sun to rise, the old one would have to set, and apparently, the Lord of Light had done his level best for centuries to avoid that fate. He¡¯d devoured many a would-be hero¡¯s light just to make sure that they would never rise to eclipse him.

    Lunaris didn¡¯t think much of this practice, but it wasn¡¯t her place to stop him. Still, she dropped lines here and there about this prophecy as if she¡¯d heard it from someone,  even if she¡¯d never said who.

    Jordan had asked Niama about that, but the Goddess had merely shrugged. She¡¯d told him there was no God of Fate, at least not currently.  ¡°They¡¯ve existed before and will exist again, but destiny is not as enduring a force as nature or the stone beneath the feet of the mortal world, so sometimes it just¡­ fades away.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ve always been the Goddess of nature, and you¡¯ve known more than one God of Fate?¡± Jordan had asked, trying to nail down the details.

    ¡°Always is a long time,¡± she¡¯d laughed. ¡°Nothing is always. Nothing except the dance between light and dark and life and death. I concern myself with living, though, so like the All-Father, I¡¯ve been around longer than most. I¡¯d tell you to try it, but Gods of Light¡­ they don¡¯t last quite so long as other forces.¡±

    Jordan had thought about those words long after she¡¯d left. It reinforced just how little he knew about what was going on. He didn¡¯t even know where the All-Father was, though no one seemed particularly concerned about that. ¡°He¡¯s the oldest of us and rarely gets involved in these things beyond making something from time to time,¡± the Storm Goddess had said at their last meeting. ¡°Now that he¡¯s made the blade, he might retreat from the realm of mortals for a decade or more. It¡¯s his way.¡±

    Jordan was unconvinced, but who was he to gainsay another Goddess when he¡¯d barely gotten his feet wet. He was fast becoming an expert at stars, but that was it. What he wanted, even more than to stop fighting that endless battle, though, was to find someone to talk to about all this strange destiny magic.

    If you can simply hand out prophecies to end evil, then why not do so for all evils of the world and be done with it? He often wondered. That would have been too easy, of course. There had to be some reason for it, even if he didn¡¯t know what it might be. Still, as Jordan watched Malzekeen¡¯s progress back toward the children¡¯s tiny village, he desperately hoped that this time the prophecy would not fail.

    One way or another, it would all be over soon, and at this point, all he could do was watch.

 Ch. 211 - A Taste of Light

    They were married after the harvest, less than a year after his return. Everyone would have said that was long overdue, of course, but Leo hadn¡¯t noticed. He¡¯d been too busy spending time with Cynara while he worked through his complicated emotions and what he wanted versus what it was he thought he should be doing. Still, no matter what he thought the right thing to do was, his heart won out, and on a bright day, they stood before the entire village and said their vows.

    It was a simple ceremony, as all things were in Wayward, but the cake that was served was made from real wheat that had been ground from their own fields and real sugar that had been boiled from sugar beats they¡¯d only recently harvested. It was the best, and perhaps last, good day of Leo¡¯s young life.

    It had been so strange to see Cynara in a borrowed dress and blushing nervously, considering that he¡¯d always looked up to her as a warrior first and foremost. Those days were long behind them now, though. He was taller than her now and had been for a long time, and even if she was four years older than him, he didn¡¯t care. They were both in their twenties, and neither even remembered their parents, so it wasn¡¯t like anyone could tell them what to do.

    At this point, all either of them wanted was to be together, which was easy enough. Reggie and Toman were already helping Leo to build a small house for the two of them. By the time the first snows of winter fell, they would be safe and warm together in a way that no one could interfere with. At least, that was the plan. They never made it that far.

    It was later evening, when the fires were lit and dancing was started that the thing struck. Leo had not noticed anything amiss in the woods while cutting down trees in the days leading up to his wedding, but then how could a man in love notice anything at all. The Lich might have hidden an army in the shadows of those groves, and he would have been too busy thinking about the way that Cynara¡¯s hair smelled or the way her laugh sounded as he counted down the days to their blessed event.

    So when the beast howled and smashed down the beginnings of the palisade that they¡¯d been building to flinders, it took everyone by surprise. No one was wearing armor, and only a few people had anything, even approaching a weapon nearby, and the first man that the giant wolf-thing picked up and bit in half didn¡¯t even have time to scream. He was just gone, and only his boots and a bit of his legs remained.

    The next surprise, though, was when the thing spoke through its second head while it continued to devour with its first. ¡°Yes! At last! We taste the light on this one. I have found it at last!¡±

    At first glance, Leo had thought it was a wolf, albeit one that was larger than a horse. That was not the case. What stood before it was not a wolf but a chimera of some kind. Even as almost everyone else ran, either for safety or for weapons, he stood there, studying it. It had the head of a wolf, the head of a rat, and the mane of a lion, and it stood almost twice his height. It was a terrible monster, but it was far from the most terrible monster he¡¯d fought so far, and he did not shrink from it. Instead, he took a step toward the thing.

    ¡°Leo,¡± Cynara hissed, ¡°You can¡¯t. Not dressed like that.¡±

    ¡°I would protect you even if I was unarmed,¡± Leo answered before kissing her, ¡°But I am never unarmed so long as I have the light.¡±

    The monster tensed as if it was about to pounce toward Sam, and the dark eyed boy she¡¯d been dancing with, but paused the moment Leo shouted out, ¡°No! you will not have them!¡±

    That gave the chimera a moment of pause, but even so, it might have continued to ignore Leo until it saw the silvered blade manifesting in his hand. Then, both its head and all of its aggression focused on Leo instead.

    When the Goddess had given him the weapon, it had glittered brightly even before he¡¯d wielded it in anger for the first time, but now that he¡¯d purged so much evil with it, the thing burned with inner light as much as a reflected light at this point, and it shimmered like a piece of the sun itself. That glare made the thing flinch ever so slightly when it saw it.

    ¡°You think that you can defeat me? Even with that?¡± The wolf rumbled in a dark tone that promised violence. ¡°I shall feast on your strength!¡±

    That was the only warning that Leo received before the monster bounded forward. Cynara stayed by his side, but only for a moment before she decided that she should get her weapon or perhaps her armor. He didn¡¯t care so long as she was out of danger.

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    Leo, on the other hand, stood there perfectly still, waiting for the thing to reach him. He didn¡¯t have to wait long. Despite the fact that it was almost a hundred feet away, it only took a few strides before it was on him like an avalanche. That was when Leo moved.

    The wolf''s head struck at him first, with reactions almost too quick to follow, but he could tell the blow was meant to miss and drive him toward the second blow, which would come from the rat¡¯s giant incisors. Leo sidestepped the first blow, and then, instead of parrying those awful yellowed teeth with the second as he¡¯d intended, he cut right through them and deep into the lower jaw of the beast as it recoiled in pain.

    ¡°I know not who you are or for what dark purpose the Lich created you, but you picked the wrong village,¡± Leo shouted as he pivoted back into a guard position to await the next surprise.

    ¡°You think that shade created me?¡± the thing laughed through its wolf mouth while its rat mouth slowly healed in a grisly, slow-motion sort of way. ¡°It is but an echo¡­ a memory¡­ It has only lived for decades, but I have existed and have already devoured it.¡±

    Leo had no idea if that was a bluff that was meant to intimidate it or not, but he didn¡¯t have time to weigh the truth of the words because the thing attacked again and again. It snapped twice at him, predictably, and then it tried to rake him with its claws. Even rusty as he was, without armor, he was moving incredibly fast, though, and dodged each of these blows. It wasn¡¯t until the thing¡¯s mane attacked him that it finally struck a blow, though.

    What he¡¯d thought was just some strange decorative element suddenly became a tide of tentacles, and even as he forced the wolf to pull back with a feint, a wave of them came after it, latching painfully to his flesh in a dozen places. Leo felt them start to pick him up, but with the backswing, he severed the connections, sending him tumbling instead as the stumps that had latched onto him slowly shriveled up and flaked off of him.

    The wolf growled at him and then prepared to pounce while he was on the ground. It would have, too, if an arrow hadn¡¯t suddenly sprouted in its eye socket. He didn¡¯t know who fired it, but as the beast howled in pain, he rose to his feet and saw his wife standing in a nearby doorway, holding her bow.

    ¡°You think your friends can save you, whelp?¡± the rat roared. ¡°I¡¯ve devoured whole towns a hundred times larger than this one with no effort at all.¡±

    The chimera lashed out at him again, but this time, Leo was ready for the third attack, and he sliced away the tentacles before they ever reached him. One of the Johansen boys wasn¡¯t so lucky. There were other warriors joining the fight now, but the monster seemed to ignore them and their steel blades. Leo didn¡¯t quite understand why until Kal got too close to the main while he was hacking away with his axe, and the slimy tendrils reached out to grab him.

    Leo shouted a warning, but it was too late. They didn¡¯t yank the older boy off his feet as they¡¯d done with Leo. Instead, they drank him dry in moments as his skin became wrinkled and sunken. One moment, he¡¯d been a young man with his whole life in front of him, and the next, he was a desiccated corpse.

    ¡°What out for the mane!¡± he yelled, though he wasn¡¯t sure anyone heard him over the din of battle.

    Leo only had a few moments to wonder why he hadn¡¯t met a similarly grisly fate, but the answer sprang to mind almost immediately: the light. It was only the blades that had been illuminated that the thing seemed particularly concerned about. None glowed half as brightly as his, of course, but even Reggie¡¯s dully-lit blade made wounds that didn¡¯t heal immediately, unlike the steel weapons that most people had.

    Unfortunately, every time it was sorely wounded, it just devoured another villager, and in seconds, it was as good as new. It still fought Leo, but now Leo understood. This wasn¡¯t a single combat to the death against an unintelligent beast. This was a battle of attrition. The fight continued on, and he and other warriors both struck excellent blows that would have killed or maimed anything else, but it would simply devour another opponent and keep on fighting.

    That didn¡¯t really hit home, though, until the thing sent Toman tumbling to the ground covered in blood. The older boy had fought fiercely, but he hadn¡¯t noticed the subtle shift, and the beast had whirled around, raking him with one of its terrible claws.

    Leo wanted to rush to him and save him, but there was no time for that. He wouldn¡¯t have been able to do that even if it was Cynara who lay dying at his feet, no matter how much he might want to. Instead, all he could spare was a quick glance at his dying friend and a silent prayer that he would manage to heal his own wounds and recover.

    ¡°This ends here, beast!¡± Leo yelled. ¡°I¡¯m sending you back to the lowest pit where you belong!¡±

    The beast turned and regarded him, and Leo thought he saw something like recognition flicker across its bestial features. ¡°You are no Siddrim,¡± it growled, ¡°You are no Eldrim or Tearin-Far or any of the other Sun Gods that came before him. You have no chance to defeat me!¡±

    Leo had no idea who most of those people were, but despite those bold words, the monster seemed more cautious than it had at the start. That made sense, though. It wasn¡¯t just his eyes and his blade that were glowing with light now. It was his whole body. He was radiating enough light to turn night into day now, and that worried that thing. He could tell.

    Leo was tired, too, of course, but there was nothing for it. This was the reason he¡¯d been gifted this blade. He could tell. He could feel it in the way it moved in his hand. The Goddess had told him that he would purge a great evil, and though he hadn¡¯t been impressed by this at first sight, there was obviously more to this monster than he¡¯d first expected.

 Ch. 212 - A Flickering Candle

    The battle was not a quick thing. It was fought back and forth across the meager village they¡¯d become so proud of until tonight, destroying it utterly, along with most of the residents. Eventually, most of those who weren¡¯t trained warriors fled the battle with the beast. Leo didn¡¯t think less of them for that. No matter what its origins were, it was a nightmare creation that average people could never be expected to fight.

    Once the farmers and the tradesmen who hadn¡¯t spent half their lives sparring and practicing to fight the evils of the world left the battle to Leo and the men and women with light in their eyes, they should have been able to strike them down. Indeed, they outnumbered it a dozen to one; each of his brothers and sisters fought well, and most of their weapons bore at least some small trace of the light.

    It wasn¡¯t enough, though. Because each time one of them managed to maim the creature, slicing off a limb or blinding an eye, some new piece of a monstrosity would grow to replace it. One by one, the men and women he¡¯d fought beside for most of his life died. Rin was devoured when the wound she rent into its side suddenly sprouted teeth that bit down on her arm and refused to let go. Reggie was drained dry, not by the mane of worms and leeches, but by the few that stayed attached to him and refused to burn away.

    That left Sam grieving, and her light flared as brightly as he¡¯d ever seen on someone other than Brother Faerbar or himself. However, even that terrible blast of holy flames was only enough to burn away the hair of its mangy coat, and every blister her fire raised hatched a dozen tiny rats that swarmed her and gnawed on her until there was nothing left but bones.

    It was a horrible, brutal battle, and Leo tried his best to coordinate his attacks with those around him, but no matter what they did, they just weren¡¯t fast enough or strong enough to slay this monstrosity. No one was, maybe not even him.

    One at a time, the lights went out throughout the village. Each one hurt him more than any of the other minor wounds that had been inflicted on him to date. He¡¯d been bloodied more than once now, but each time, the light burned its way out of the rent in his flesh and healed it shut again. He¡¯d experienced that before, on the battlefield, but never so powerfully as this moment, and he embraced the searing pain that accompanied the healing of each blow.

    Pain was better than death, especially if it was the death of someone else. The problem was that for all the effort and all the blows exchanged, they were doing nothing to it. The thing simply wouldn''t die, and he lacked the strength to do more than wound it. No matter how strong wielding that a

    At least Cynara is safe, he told himself. Since she didn¡¯t have the time to don her chain mail, she wisely she stuck to her bow and used hit-and-run tactics to stay as far away from the battle as possible. Every new lance of light that skewered the monster was a reminder that she was safe. In that way, her blows handed no better than his. For all their light, this creature oozed power, and all they could do was burn it around the edges and then watch as it regrew again and again.

    It was no longer a wolf now and it was barely a rat. Instead, it was a mass of hideous tendrils dotted with mouths and teeth. Each wound became some new appendage or mass as it healed as scar tissue built upon scar tissue until there was nothing but a hideous cancerous mass of evil. It wasn¡¯t working, but what else could Leo do? His only choices were to fight and to not fight; there was no third option. All he could do was hack and slash at the thing while the monster slowly changed into something more hideous.

    ¡°When all the other lights are extinguished, will you still fight, or will you see that there is no defeating me?¡± half a dozen mouths warbled, taunting him for his inability to end him.

    For a moment, Leo doubted himself. He held in his hand a magic sword of legends that could slice effortlessly through zombies, but its wielder wasn¡¯t strong enough to take down a single beast. For just a moment, his light dimmed, but as the creature suddenly flicked its gaze away toward the last pair of glowing eyes on a nearby rooftop, Leo suddenly understood the true meaning of its words.

    It''s going after her next, he told himself, shocked by the realization. For the last few minutes, they¡¯d been fighting around the well and the ruin of the building that they were trying to turn into the smithy, but now the thing was surging down the street on an uncertain number of limbs toward his wife. Leo wasn¡¯t about to let that happen and charged alongside it, taking advantage of the moment to slice off half a dozen limbs on the nearside, sending it careening to the ground.

    ¡°You cannot have her!¡± he roared, taking a blow from his blind side that sent him tumbling end over until he was stopped only by the timbers of a collapsed wall.

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    ¡°I can have everything! The beast roared. ¡°My hunger is infinite, and so long as there is no Lord of Light, then I will consume the entirety of the world!¡±

    ¡°As long as I have this light, you shall not have hers,¡± he grunted as he rose to his feet.

    That was enough to make the misshapen flesh beast turn to face him with two of its four twisted heads.

    ¡°Did you not feel that way about the rest of your friends?¡± it chuckled darkly. ¡°They were worth sacrificing, but she is not? It was all in vain. I have eaten the world, and I shall feast on it again.¡±

    Those words hit Leo like a punch to the gut. If he couldn¡¯t bring this monstrosity when all of them had fought together, united, then how could he hope to do it on his own?

    ¡°You have been defeated before, too,¡± Leo stood, unwilling to admit defeat. He had no idea how he would win; he only knew that he had to, and with each step forward, that certainty deepened. The only way it was getting to Cynara was over his mangled corpse. ¡°Every name you¡¯ve listed is a name that has destroyed you utterly. You will add my name to that list.¡±

    The creature hissed. ¡°I don¡¯t even know your name! You are not worth remembering!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Leo agreed. ¡°But once upon a time, I was worth saving, and so was every person you slew tonight.¡±

    He started hacking at the thing again, but this time it was different. Even now, the fireflies were stirring around him. That¡¯s when he knew he wasn¡¯t alone.

    In the light of his sword, the souls of the dead flickered and stirred around him, slowly coming to life. The details were vague, but one at a time, he recognized them as his slain brothers and sisters, not that he¡¯d ever had any doubt.

    For a few seconds, they joined him on the battlefield as a storm of swirling swords along with disembodied arms and legs. Then, one at a time, they began to merge with him.

    With each absorption, there was a flash of recognition at whom the spirit had been in life before their power flowed into him, making his light burn that much more brightly. Sam. Rin. Jamin. Tara. One by one, the ghosts of everyone he¡¯d ever fought beside merged with him, lending him their last bit of strength. His sword was barely recognizable now. Indeed, it wasn¡¯t even visible. It was a pillar of holy fire, and it charred the flesh of the beast that it was facing.

    ¡°No!¡± it bellowed out of a dozen mouths. ¡°I was supposed to smother you in the cradle before you gained your strength!¡±

    Leo ignored those words and continued to hack away. He¡¯d never been the tallest of his siblings, but right now, he felt like a giant. He was overflowing with a lifetime of other people¡¯s souls, and for the first time in the entire fight, he felt stronger than the thing he was facing.

    Unfortunately, he had no idea how long this would last, so he pressed the attack as hard as he could. There was no subtlety now nor any attempt to dodge or parry blows. He trusted the blazing aura around him to handle most of the defense and for the light to heal the wounds of any attacks that made it through that incandescent storm before they could slay him.

    Now, he threw every last ounce of his strength into defeating this beast once and for all. He attacked; it was a berserk fury that was as much fire as it was force. Well, light, at least. The holy light that surged around him did nothing to harm the ruined buildings or even Cynara, who glowed very lightly in her own right as she looked on in awe. It even made the flowers blossom, and the weeds grow. To the screaming monstrosity of flesh that he faced, though, he might as well have been a bonfire. Its questing tentacles turned to ash before they ever got close to him, as he hacked it apart a piece at a time, and the thing was constantly fissioning now into rats, worms, and other stranger animals in an attempt to escape him.

    Some of them did. He had no doubt that was the case. He had no way to stop them. All he could do was keep fighting the ruin that was the main body and hope that would be enough.

    It was disgusting work, but as he reached the core of it, he found the things black heart pounding away. ¡°Noooo!¡± the creature screamed through its remaining mouths.

    Leo didn¡¯t even hesitate. He just thrust his sword deep into the thing, annihilating both of them in a burst of terrible energy. One moment, the silvered sword was a blazing pillar of light in his hands, and the next, it was annihilated as it canceled out against the terrible well of darkness that it had found in the center of that monstrosity.

    Leo was tossed backward like a rag doll by the force of the explosion, and debris went spraying in all directions, but none of it belonged to his opponent. Instead, where that terrible blast wave struck it, it simply ceased to exist. One moment, it was a pile of postulate body parts, and the next, it had simply vanished as if it had never existed.

    Leo rose to his feet once more quickly, only to find that he had nothing to fight. He¡¯d won. That took a moment to sink in. However, as soon as it did, he looked to Cynara to make sure that she was okay. Once he saw that she was, he finally released a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding and looked at his hands.

    Leo was still glowing so violently that his flesh was almost invisible compared to the storm that his aura had become. While he did that, Cynara finally rose and ran toward him but stopped partway, shielding her eyes. ¡°Leo?! Are you in there, Leo? What happened to you?¡±

    Leo wasn¡¯t sure. He didn¡¯t know either, to be perfectly honest, but he hoped like hell that it would stop sooner rather than later.

 Ch. 213 - Total Eclipse

    Leo only had a few seconds to struggle with his rising panic before he heard the familiar voice. ¡°There¡¯s no going back after this, I¡¯m afraid.¡± Even before Leo whirled around, he knew who it was.

    ¡°Jordan,¡± he called out, but when he turned around, the familiar mage was not who he saw.

    Some of the details were right, of course. The luminescent spirit had Jordan¡¯s features and his sad eyes. These were clear and sharp, though, not milky and bespeckled as he remembered the man. He was taller and translucent now, though, and pale white, like the ghost of who he might have been.

    These minor differences were enough to put Leo on edge. He¡¯d lost his silvered blade with the defeat of that horrid monster, but even so, he still pulled his dagger and raised it defensively, noting briefly how his golden light contrasted with the pale light of the imposter.

    Jordan ignored the slowly reddening blade and stepped around it to embrace Leo. It wasn¡¯t a swift movement, and he could have stopped it, but despite his doubts, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to stab the almost familiar man. Not after everything that had happened.

    Instead, he dropped his blade and hugged him back, noting the way that his weapon continued to glow orange instead of extinguishing itself as he expected it would, and instead lit the small amount of grass remaining near him on fire.

    No, everything that was happening, he corrected himself. It was still happening. It was all still happening. Power was still welling up inside of him, and he could still feel the souls of his brothers and sisters swirling within him, but he didn¡¯t know how to make it stop.

    That scared him, but not as much as Cynara¡¯s reaction. She couldn¡¯t even approach within a dozen feet of him because of the light and the heat of his golden aura.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± he asked Jordan.

    ¡°You have reached a criticality, and you are ascending,¡± the man answered casually.

    ¡°Criticality? Ascending?¡± Jordan asked, confused. ¡°That¡¯s not what I want. We won. I just want this to be over now and¡­¡±

    ¡°In the end, none of us get what we want,¡± Jordan answered in a slightly sadder tone. ¡°There¡¯s no stepping outside of fate, not when we have to save the world.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what I just did?¡± Leo asked, releasing the mage and taking a step back to look him in the eye.

    ¡°It is,¡± he agreed. ¡°But only the first step. Malzekeen is dead, but many shards of his evil escaped. I¡¯m sure you saw the rats.¡±

    ¡°I did,¡± Leo agreed, not sure how much damage a few rats could do.

    ¡°Think of them as seeds, then, seeds of evil,¡± Jordan answered, ¡°Without the sun in the sky, they will find fertile ground, and in a month or a year, or even a decade, that monster will be reborn to do this all again.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll defeat him a second time,¡± Leo proclaimed. ¡°I¡¯ll do this all again. I¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    ¡°Will you?¡± Jordan asked. ¡°Your light is bolstered by the sacrifice of everyone you ever loved, and when that burns away, your soul will go with it. There are only two choices now, and I do not think you were meant to be a star. You burn too brightly for that.¡±

    ¡°Star?¡± Leo whispered in confusion.

    Before he could truly ask a question, or Jordan could answer one, Cynara called out again. ¡°Please, Leo, what¡¯s happening? I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    Just the sound of his voice hurt his heart, and he moved again to come closer so he could hold her, but after two steps, she shrank back again from his swirling light because it was too painful. He was just about to cry out in frustration and ask Jordan what he should do when the pale ghost of a man walked past him, picked her up from the ground, and embraced the girl instead.

    ¡°Shhhh¡­¡± he whispered, soothing the crying girl while he stroked her hair. At that moment, Leo¡¯s jealousy bordered on the volcanic, and the fires around him swirled that much more fiercely, but he still didn¡¯t step toward her. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

    ¡°Leo has done a great and terrible thing,¡± Jordan told her. ¡°He has slain a terrible evil, but in doing so, he¡¯s broken free of the bonds of mortality.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Cynara asked. ¡°Is he going to die?¡±

    ¡°Everything dies one day,¡± Jordan answered, ¡°But I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what''s happening here. He¡¯s liable to outlive you and me. He¡¯s just becoming something more. ¡±

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    ¡°But I don¡¯t want something more; I just want my Leo back!¡± Her tears hurt Leo like a physical blow, but all he could do was stand there and smolder. He knew that if he moved towards her, she would only move away again.

    He steeled himself for the bad news he was exacting. He thought sure that Jordan was going to tell her that was impossible, but that¡¯s not what he said. Instead, the ghost of the mage answered, ¡°I think I can make that happen, but only for a little while. Come the dawn, my powers will wane, and his¡­ well, there will be no stopping him them.¡±

    The pale mage then did something even more unexpected and cast a spell. It was longer and more complex than the ones he¡¯d seen Jordan cast before, but it was a sight to behold. For a moment, Cynara was wrapped in a gossamer web of auroras and starlight as whatever Jordan did to her took hold. After that, though, there was only the faintest pale glow around the edge of her.

    ¡°Go to him,¡± Jordan said, ¡°I will do what I can for the survivors.¡±

    Neither Leo nor Cynara needed any encouragement, and they ran to each other. As he got closer and closer to her, the light that had reached out to her before became flames as she got closer, but no matter how fiercely they swirled around her, her tattered dress did not burst into flames. Instead, the magic aura that Jordan had given her held back the worst of it, and even when they embraced, she didn¡¯t flinch or cry out in pain.

    She didn¡¯t say anything at all, and neither did he. They were too busy kissing instead. This should have been all they¡¯d done tonight after their ceremony, but instead, the day had been ruined by blood, battle, and the deaths of so many. He couldn¡¯t think about any of that right now, though. All he could think about was the way she felt in his arms as gratitude for the fact that she at least had survived overwhelmed him.

    It was several minutes before the conversation was anything like coherent speech. For a while, all they did was hold each other and express their feelings with small pet names and tender caresses. They should have been celebrating their honeymoon, not dealing with whatever this was, but there was nothing for it though.

    ¡°What are we going to do?¡± she asked finally.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he answered truthfully, ¡°But I knew that no matter what happens, I¡¯ll never leave you. Not truly. I¡¯ll find a way to stay by your side somehow.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all I want,¡± she answered, melting into his chest, ¡°But if Jordan is right, and this is truly our last night together, well, then, I don¡¯t want to waste that either.¡±

    Jordan smiled at that, and then, after a little searching, they found that the partially completed cabin he¡¯d been building with Toman and the rest of the men hadn¡¯t been completely leveled, so they retreated there for a little privacy. It didn¡¯t have a bed or a roof, but it had 4 walls and a blanket, which was more decent than anything that either of them was wearing.

    Part of him worried that the maelstrom of light he still exuded would burn away the cabin, but Cynara was the eye of the storm, and where she stood, things did not burn. So, while the upper timbers became a little scorched once he bore her gently to the floor, the two of them had a taste of peace for however long it lasted.

    Leo¡¯s flesh had regenerated over and over again, but his clothes hadn¡¯t been quite so lucky. His tunic and pants were in tatters, but Cynara¡¯s dress wasn¡¯t doing much better. It was stained with blood and dirt. Additionally, she¡¯d slit it all the way up the side so she could move in it easier during the fight. He respected that, but he was also glad. It made it that much easier to take off of her.

    For any other couple, the next few hours would have been lost to darkness. But for Leo and his lover, they were lost in the light. They both radiated passion as much and incomprehensible magic and if anything, he thought that Cynara¡¯s pale skin was that much more beautiful with her pale aura.

    Hours later, when they finally emerged from their love nest, Leo felt forever changed by the experience. He wished that this night could have lasted forever, and he would have given up almost anything for that. Eventually they had to leave their cabin, though, because the walls had started to burn, and Cynara had started complaining about his heat.

    Even that hadn¡¯t been enough to entirely spoil the moment, and though he mourned the loss when she started putting her clothes back on, it only doubled his determination to find a way to solve this. Once they got past their suddenly sheepish grins and awkward moments, they found another change in the world.

    When Jordan had told Leo that he would do what he could for the survivors, he¡¯d thought that the man meant that he would heal them or bandage their wounds. Instead, he found that the village of Wayward was entirely remade. Where once only shattered log cabins and ruined daub and wattle cottages, now there was a tiny town made of pure white stone. There were only half a dozen of the tiny palaces, but given how few people were likely to have survived, that was all they really needed. Still, it was so strange that he gazed at the sight with a feeling of wonder.

    ¡°It¡¯s like he made the moonlight solid, somehow,¡± Cynara murmured, walking over to the closest one and running her hand along the smooth marble surface.

    ¡°It does, doesn¡¯t it,¡± he said as a few more pieces started to fall into place in his mind. What he¡¯d first thought of as ghostly when he looked at the mage now looked a bit more like moonlight now that she mentioned it.

    Did he make some kind of deal with Lunaris? He wondered.

    Leo recalled Brother Faerbar telling them that the Moon Goddess had something to do with mages, but it had been too long, and he could no longer remember the specifics. He didn¡¯t have too much time to think about it, though. Almost as soon as the two of them emerged, casting a wide swath of light through the darkened village, Jordan started walking toward the two of them again.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you won¡¯t be able to stay much longer,¡± the pale mage said, ¡°I trust you have made your goodbyes?¡±

    ¡°Goodbyes?¡± Leo asked, ¡°still in denial, but I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Even with my magic, she can no longer touch you,¡± Jordan interrupted, shaking his head. ¡°In an hour, you¡¯d burn this whole place down and her with it¡­ In two, you¡¯ll likely be ashes yourself. We must go while we still can.¡±

    ¡°Go where?¡± Leo asked.

    ¡°To your chariot,¡± the mage answered with a smile.

 Ch. 214 - Final Form

    When Tenebroum next awoke from its fugue state, it was changed irrevocably. It had digested an endless amount of shadows, and it had woken up as darkness itself. Death was only a tiny part of it now, no bigger than the lingering influence of the dead river that flowed by its lair.

    It had been a god for years. Then, after that, when it had reconstructed its lair to replace its phylactery, it had become something greater, but it was only now that it fulfilled the promise of that terrible potential that it had created. At this point, it might have more darkness than Siddrim had light when he yet lived, and Tenebroum was certain that a world without a true sun or a Lord of Light was entirely unprepared for the thing that it had become.

    There was a time, shortly after its ascension to godhood, when it had chaffed at being contained by its phylactery when it had come to think of its entire lair as its body instead. Now, it felt the same way about its new lair and expanded phylactery. There simply was no longer enough space for it to stretch out; for the second time in its existence, it had entirely outgrown its shell.

    That was understandable, though; there was an endless surge of darkness coming from below. Even the heads of almost a hundred mages laid out across miles of magical circuitry were stifling now that it surged with so much power. It had a literal cathedral to contain it now, and even that wasn''t enough. Every corridor was alive with shadows and arcane energy, and it was only barely contained by it.

    That night, when Tenebroum boiled out of the hole and above the blasted ruins of Blackwater, it was as an eruption of evil. It was a pyroclastic flow of darkness more than it was a fog or even a storm now. It was a violent force that caused the few remaining weeds that clung to life on that poisoned land to wilt as it spread across miles in the blink of an eye and began to search for its wayward henchmen.

    The last time it had searched for them, it had been unable to locate a single one because it had been so weak and disconnected from its old magics. This time, though, it wasn''t even difficult; it found them immediately, dotting the world in all directions. Far to the northeast were two of its three Dark Paragons, along with the Voice of Reason and her entourage. Where its third Dark Paragon had gone, it could not say. The other two were almost a thousand miles away, so if it was even further north, it was possible that it was out of his range, even while it crackled with this much power, but it would find out either way, soon.

    It couldn¡¯t find its Queen of Thrones either, and though the Dark God called to her, she did not respond. That was worrisome, but then, it could always build another, it decided. There was no way she¡¯d broken free, and it was instantly clear to Tenebroum where the woods she¡¯d tainted and devoured had stopped and more natural growth started. So, she was most likely gone, and if that was the case, it was because she¡¯d been defeated, either by Niama, her children, or else Malkezeen. Either way, the darkness would soon have its vengeance.

    Tenebroum paused in its search for its minions to seek out any trace of that animal. It wasn¡¯t fear that drove it so much as wariness. It was fairly certain that the awful creature no longer had any claim on its soul, but just the same, it planned to blast it to ruin by surprise and from a distance to minimize any chance of another humiliating defeat.

    As much as it would love to savor the moment of rending that thing¡¯s soul to pieces, it would much rather dash it into oblivion with a work of magic in an instant to secure victory. That wouldn¡¯t stop the forces of wrath, disease, and famine from coalescing as some new force and under some new name, of course, but when they did, Tenebroum would be ready, and it would devour them, one by one.

    Once it verified that Malkezeen was nowhere to be found, the God of Shadows continued its search for what it was really looking for. It quickly found its Shadow Drake to the north, somewhere in the Wodenspine Mountains. A moment later, it finally located its favorite minion, Krulm¡¯venor, off to the northwest, in the red hills.

    The little monster made it out of the depths; after all, it thought to itself as it decided how best to proceed.

    Tenebroum was pleased that the monstrosity had not yet been dashed to pieces but would be more than happy to do so itself if it caught a single whiff of disloyalty. Its first impulse was to go straight there, but it refrained. It wanted to take its time with the fire godling. So, instead, the darkness surged north toward its closest minion, looking for its drake.

    It was not a difficult hunt. Of all its creations, the Shadow Drake was the most attuned to darkness, which is what Tenebroum was now. Even more than death, it was connected to the domain of pure shadows that was hidden behind the thin veneer of creation. So, the thing¡¯s mere existence drew Tenebroum like a lodestone.

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    It was not surprised by what it found. The drake was in a cave overlooking the valley that its people had long ago claimed and conquered, which was the precise location it might have looked if it could not feel it.

    What was only slightly more surprising was that Tenebroum felt no darkness from anywhere else in the rest of the valley. In most of the woodlands and mountain valleys it had passed over on the way here, it had found at least faded shades or the occasional goblin that bore its touch.

    Even in the cracked plains to the north of its lair, which were entirely devoid of anything living larger than a rodent, still hosted a few enervated zombies. They were broken, pathetic creatures that sheltered from the thin sunlight in the abandoned farmhouses of the area, but they still existed. Here, though, its influence had been carefully pruned away. Not a single lizardman in the tribe bore the taint of its presence. Though the tribe as a whole still seemed to honor it, those members that embraced it had been cut methodically away, and it could see only one gardener.

    ¡°Even now, you chafe at your leach, hound?¡± Tenebroum asked the creature as the smallest tendril of its ethereal smog coalesced into something resembling a body. "You destroy my creations to preserve what no longer exists."

    Tsson¡¯vek¡¯s first response was to growl low at the intruder. ¡°I took care of my people,¡± It said at last in a voice meant more for roaring and screeching than the low whisper it spoke in. ¡°I make no apology for that.¡±

    ¡°You have not been a part of these people for a long time,¡± Tenebroum said. ¡°Your fate and theirs were separated the moment you moved against me.¡±

    ¡°And yet here we are,¡± Tsson¡¯vek rumbled.

    ¡°Here we are,¡± the Dark God agreed, standing perfectly still even though it didn''t really even have a body.

    Tenebroum could see the muscles twitching deep within the beast. It knew exactly what it was planning, but then, it could also see what terrible shape it was in. The Shadow Drake had always been a fragile beast, and it had been a long time since it had seen a fleshcrafter to mend it. As a result, there were many rents and holes in both its wings and its underbelly from the many fights it had been in during the time it had been away.

    Still, it didn¡¯t need scales or even to move much for what it was planning. Tenebroum could have stopped it, of course, but it knew the attack would be meaningless, and it much preferred to damn its minions by their own actions.

    Tsson¡¯vek wasn¡¯t privy to any of those thoughts, though. So when it opened its mouth to speak again, and instead exhaled a gout of corrosive shadows that completely filled the mouth of the cave. Against a mortal enemy, it would have been utterly fatal. Even a knight cowering behind his shield would feel the darkness unmake his armor before it dissolved the rest of his body into swirling shadows.

    For Tenebroum, the torrent was nothing at all. Instead of trying to defend against it at all, the God simply took it all in. Its creation had been filled with a truly formidable amount of darkness to destroy the forces of light, which was the reason why it continued to survive and thrive even in the absence of connection to Tenebroum, but it was reclaiming that darkness now.

    Indeed, even as  Tsson¡¯vek realized his mistake and tried to stop the tide of shadows, Tenebroum continued to pull on the stream. The Shadow Drake did not understand the magnitude of its error until that moment.

    It gasped and struggled then, rising to its feet and even trying to rear up. It couldn¡¯t, though. This was over the moment it had exhaled. They were not fighting. This was an execution.

    Tenebroum drained it until there was nothing left to drain. It removed the last dregs of power until the eyes of the powerful construct were dull and glassy, and its ebon scales lost their dark sheen. In the end, it ripped out its still squirming soul and shredded it as the veneer of magic that held the thing together slowly made the six-winged dragon-shaped thing fall apart into a pile of rusted scales, wooden timbers, and yellowed bone.

    The traitorous pet died screaming, and once that was done, it looked around, and its physical form began to slowly dissolve back into the mist from which it had sprung into being. Then, it gazed upon the tribe that flourished far below. By night, they were in their nests, but it was easy to see that their numbers were larger than ever. It was a significant number of souls it could harvest with almost no effort.

    Tenebroum knew exactly what it should do. Despite the fact that the Shadow Drake was no more, it still should have smote his tribe of lizardmen. That was the source of the construct¡¯s betrayal and the punishment that Tsson¡¯vek¡¯s betrayal merited.

    Yet, as it drifted over the valley, the darkness saw both the current totem pole and the scraps of the old one. Both of them had a golden skull at the top, which told it all it needed to about their dogged loyalty to forces that they couldn¡¯t possibly understand. The lizardmen, as a whole, had never disobeyed it or betrayed it, and thus, it could not smite them from existence now. Instead, it merely drifted away and left them to their fate.

    Long after mankind and the children of the forest had joined the dwarves on the graveyard of history, the lizardmen would continue to thrive. That would be the case until all light was eliminated, and the world froze completely solid, at least, but even then, it might find some way to preserve them.

    With that thought, Tenebroum moved further skyward and began moving to the west. Krulm¡¯venor was next on its list, and it had not yet decided if it would shred his soul as it had done to Tsson¡¯vek or not.

 Ch. 215 - Among the Ashes

    Krulm¡¯venor was only slightly harder to find than the Shadow Drake had been. This was because his partial goblin nature blended in so much better with the green skins that infested the area, and his flames were so low that they weren¡¯t much stronger than the bonfires that dotted the region.

    Both of these factors were complicated by the fact that the godling was broken into five different versions of itself. None of these were particularly close to his former domain as the totem spirit of the burning skulls> that made sense since it had long since become a gold mine and a now abandoned human settlement. Instead, they were scattered widely through the foothills of the Wodenspine Mountains in the region that had once been the Stone Fist territory. Those thoughts brought back a whole host of Tenebroum''s stray memories as it remembered how weak and wretched it had been during the goblin unification campaigns. It had barely been able to move openly over such distances, making it particularly difficult for Grod and his Gold Skulls to reach and conquer these places.

    Pathetic, it thought, revulsing at that vision of who it had once been before shaking free of those thoughts and continuing its search. Tenebroum controlled everything for hundreds of miles in every direction. It had no need to dwell on the failures of the past.

    Once the darkness had found Krulm''venor''s various doppelgangers, it only took a few moments for it to ascertain which one was the true seat of Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s soul. Then, it soared across the skies like an ill wind, reaching its destination with an entrance that sent the loose knots of goblins around the entrance to the cave scattering. The pathetic vermin had no idea what it was they were fleeing from, but they could feel the fear and the power radiating off of its dark, shapeless form, and they knew they stood no chance.

    Tenebroum ignored them and continued inside, where it found its favorite toy completely broken. Though the God of Darkness knew that other full copies of the metal goblin skeleton existed and were wandering around out in the Red Hills doing only Gods knew what, what remained of the dwarf¡¯s true body was only his skull-lantern, which sat there in the center of the filthy cavern on a crude altar like a sort of relic.

    When it materialized once more into a man of pure shadows, the godling did not react. Its worshipers did, though. The few remaining goblins that had clustered around it like a totem quickly escaped deeper into the cave, leaving the two of them alone.

    ¡°How far you have fallen,¡± Tenebroum mused. ¡°To think that after all the times you complained about this squalor, this is where you would return to.¡±

    ¡°At least here I harm no one who matters,¡± Krulm¡¯venor shot back, obviously spoiling for a fight. Given his nature, Tenebroum realized that his servant had been waiting for the moment for quite a long time. ¡°I can feast on these scraps forever if need be.¡±

    ¡°Can you?¡± Tenebroum growled. ¡°Did you think I was dead? That I would not come for you?¡±

    ¡°I was never lucky enough for that to be true,¡± the skull chuckled darkly. It was a dry, metallic sound that was made more alien by the way it echoed off the foul walls of the goblin den. ¡°When our connection died, I could hope, but hope isn¡¯t good for much. It won¡¯t even burn brightly enough to keep the fires lit.¡±

    Tenebroum thought about asking the fire godling what had happened to bring it so low, but it had no need to do that. Instead, it decided to ascertain the facts by delving directly into the mind of its creation. Once, it might have needed to ask the question and force compliance with pain, but a god of its power no longer needed cooperation.

    Though Krulm¡¯venor would never hear it, far away, in the God¡¯s true body, a dozen of its mouths began to screech and chant the words for a spell at ear-splitting volumes powered by steam. As soon as the working was complete, Tenebroum seized the creature¡¯s soul and began to examine it, studying each moment since it had held the leash in painful detail. It did not like what it had found.

    Tsson¡¯vek had been disobedient for the sake of his tribe and preserved only a single valley. It was almost understandable, but Krulm¡¯venor''s disobedience had been far more obscene and constituted a complete betrayal.

    In the wake of the moment where Tenebroum sundered its phylactery, the dwarven spirit had not only stopped its attack on the few remaining survivors of the dwarven city it had been sent to destroy, it had actively tried to save the survivors. It had put the fires out and even helped to dig some dwarves out of the rubble.

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    No, it¡¯s worse than that, the dark God realized. He did save some of them.

    As it dug ever deeper into those memories and attempted to understand how exactly Krulm¡¯venor was able to pull that off, its concern only deepened. The dwarf''s bones had still heated when the godling disobeyed its last command, but free from Tenebroum¡¯s influence, the dwarf had found a clever workaround. It had its other bodies yank its head off and destroy its body, breaking the chains that had held it for so long.

    If that was all it had done, then the Dark God might have praised the prideful spirit before shredding its soul, but that was only what enabled Krlum¡¯venor to do what it was going to do next. Once it was nothing more than a crippled shell and free from the agonies that its master had placed on it for so long with its cursed body, the thing used its other bodies to escort the few survivors who were still sane to distant locations where they could rebuild.

    ¡°How dare you!¡± Tenebroum raged, almost snuffing out the candle of Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s soul with those simple words.

    ¡°You were always going to do your worst to me,¡± the godling answered philosophically. ¡°At least now I have done one small bit of good in the world that you cannot reverse.¡±

    ¡°Cannot?!¡± Tenebroum roared, making the stone shiver and killing several goblins that lingered at the edge of their conversation from pure terror. ¡°There is nothing I cannot do! I will pry their locations free from your memory, and then I will build you a new body and force you to execute them yourself. I will¡ª¡±

    ¡°But I don¡¯t know their location,¡± the tarnished skull taunted. ¡°I made sure of that, and the dwarves dashed their guides to pieces, so no one knows that now. No one in the entire world can help you find them. You¡ª¡±

    Krulm¡¯venor choked on his words as his outraged master began to squeeze the tortured soul. It wanted to punish the defiant thing, of course, but even more than that, it wanted to find some terrible punishment, but it was having trouble resisting that violent urge. It would have ended him right there if the sun had not picked that minute to rise. That instantly got Tenebroum¡¯s full attention.

    One second, there was enough of a glow on the horizon that its giant soul retreated further into the depths of the cave, and the next, the entirely unexpected happened. The sun rose. This was not one of the pale blue or gray wandering stars that had plagued it for so long. This was a sun, a true sun, and as soon as it crested the horizon, the world was instantly flooded with light.

    Even there, thirty feet beneath the ground, Tenebroum could feel it, and that light pained it more than it ever had before. When the sun had last set, it had been death and decay as much as it had been darkness. Now, it was pure night, and it could feel the thing burning.

    The God of Shadows wanted nothing more at that moment than to return to its lair, but the way was cut off and would not be clear again until sunset. There, with the wellspring of shadows from the depths, it doubted that even direct sunlight could burn it away if it was willing to endure the agony, but here, in a goblin warren? It was intensely vulnerable.

    Tenebroum released Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s soul as it grappled with this new problem, unsure of what exactly to do or how exactly it had happened. Somehow, Siddrim had been reborn, or something had replaced him. It did not know which of those was worse.

    It took several hours of cautious observation to convince itself that it was not about to be attacked.

    I only have to endure this one day, it told itself, then I can return to my shell and be utterly beyond its reach.

    That wasn¡¯t good enough, though. Tenebroum would never be satisfied until it devoured the entire world, and dealing with the rebirth of the sun only made everything that much worse. So, it brooded over what it could do and how it could do it. In the end, it decided that the sun couldn¡¯t be its first target, no matter who it was. It was only when the moon and stars were dealt with that it would have the power to snuff out this new light.

    No, it decided after brooding on it for some time this changes little. Not even the sun itself will stop me now.

    That left Tenebroum the rest of the day to deal with the boredom of being trapped in a squalid cave with a traitor. So, instead of simply murdering the godling as it had originally planned, it examined the enchantments that yet remained attached to its soul via the lantern and, after a little investigation, decided on a better way to end the foul creature.

    It might have achieved some small victory in its absence, but that would not be enough to stop anything. In time, those dwarves would be found and murdered just as it had done with the rest of their people.

    When the first true sun that had been seen for a long time set that day, Tenebroum soared out of the cave, but only after it killed every goblin and every copy of Krulm¡¯venor save for that pathetic skull. It wanted no more surprises and no way for it to escape before the dark rider it had just dispatched arrived to bring it home.

    There would be much to do before it sent the godling on one more mission. A new dark rider would have to be constructed, enchantments would have to be altered, and, of course, many new deaths heads would have to be constructed, but none of that would present any difficulty now. Soon, it would be ready to strike, and in the meantime, it could yet reclaim more of its minions and decide who would live and who would die.

 Ch. 216 - Loose Ends

    Tenebroum stayed in its lair for several days and nights before it journeyed north. This was both because it wanted to make the most important and painful changes to Krulm¡¯venor and his self-replicating magics while it was still wroth with him and because it wanted to study the patterns of this next sun and determine if there was anything to be learned from it that might suggest an imminent attack.

    The Shadowy God had an obsidian-lensed telescope that its spirit minions had used to study the paths of the wandering stars without learning much. They tried to use it on this new sun, too, but it burst into flames almost immediately after showing only a single glare-filled image of a man on a chariot that told it almost nothing.

    Fortunately, its work on Krulm¡¯venor went much better. There, it dusted off the brazier it had used to make copies of the thing for further study so long ago and whiled away the nights dissecting the godling and listening to its screams as it studied just how much darkness it could add the sickly bluish flames of unfire before its efforts extinguished them completely.

    In the end, when Tenebroum was done with its torments, Krulm¡¯venor¡¯s eyes no longer glowed cyan but a deep violet that bordered on black. That would be close enough, it decided, admiring its handiwork. Once that was done, all it needed to do was create hundreds of copies, but given the simplicity of the work and the lack of limbs and other moving parts, that would only take a few days.

    So, leaving things in the capable hands of its fleshcrafters, it soared north, leaving behind the familiar territory that was almost completely devoid of life as it drifted over the Wodenspine Mountains and the western kingdoms where it''s few living followers yet remained. There, it restrained the urge to simply take their souls as it passed by. It did not need them, as it had gorged completely on the dark, misshapen things that continued to pour up from the depths, but it still wanted to taste them.

    Instead, it flew across the desert sands to Tanda in the search for its Voice of Reason, but it could not find her. Tenebroum swirled over the city like a monsoon, blocking out the stars, but still, it did not find her. She was here, but at the same time, she wasn¡¯t, and it wasn¡¯t sure what that meant.

    It thought about devouring the city anyway but decided that it could wait until its return trip after it had exerted it had dealt with its Dark Paragons. The Voices presence still bothered it, even as it glided further north. She had been the most obedient of all its creations, and it had thought that out of everyone, she at least would remain loyal.

    In the end, Tenebroum decided not to jump to conclusions. She may yet be a prisoner, or worse, it reminded itself. The Voice had written him on many occasions about the City Goddess Tanda Nihara and how she was the true power behind the throne in that place. So, if there was wrongdoing, it might not be the Voice of Reason who was to blame.

    As it flew north across the night sky, that view only deepened. At one point, Tenebroum had laid at least a small claim against all of the cities that it found; now, though, the darkness had been purged from the completely. Only the dungeons that the Pargaons used for logistics purposes and the ruins of fallen Abbas still bore its mark.

    The answer to all of that was obvious, of course. Without its strength to intimidate them, all those peaceful treaties and tributes that its agent had worked so hard to get signed had vanished like a desert mirage.

    Well, so would everything else that was good in their lives. As the Lich glided above the third trading port that it had come across between Tanda and the Kingdom of Varenell, which was its destination on the far side of the desert, it noted that the wretched traitors had the gall to hold a celebration to rejoice the return of the sun. That was too much.

    It swirled down to the town, suffocating all of the lights in a single motion. One moment, everyone was wearing smiles and feasting on imported sweets and spiced meats as they celebrated how the end of the world had been averted, and the next, their souls were being torn from their bodies by ten thousand shadowy hands as Tenebroum glided through their streets.

    The dark, spiritual miasma of its body was like a black fog, and the God didn¡¯t even slow down as it passed through the place. One second, there was light and life, and the next second, there was not. There was only a town full of cooling corpses, and not a single one of them bore a mark to indicate what it was that had killed them.

    The fruits of betrayal are never sweet, it whispered as it continued on. It would do the same to every other town along the eastern coast, in time, along with many of the small islands that were not so far offshore. Only the primitive tribes that The Voice of Reason had found on her return still bore the shadow of its touch. So only they would be spared for now.

    Tenebroum no longer needed armies now. It was an army of ghosts and shades onto itself. No, it was something larger than that. It was a behemoth of frost and shadows, and it wasn¡¯t sure that there was anything left in the world that was still a match for it.

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    Still, there was a time when it had needed armies and servants, and it still wondered what it was that had happened to them, so it continued on to Varenell. There, it found the wall that had been described so often in the reports. The Dark Pargons had been unable to say if it had been erected simply to keep out the undead army that marched north on them, but given how it lay in disrepair after all this time, that seemed unlikely. Even now, the wall lay breached in several places, allowing the dunes on the south side to slowly creep north.

    That gave Tenebroum hope that its forces would have conquered large stretches of this new country. It was disappointed. Though towns and villages near the wall and the arterial trade road had been flattened by war, neither humans nor undead remained to control those areas. Instead, after going further to the northwest, it found the remains of its once grand army in two large castles where the remaining forces seemed to be warring with each other rather than an external enemy.

    That confounded the darkness as it stared in confusion at the battlefield where the dead fought against the dead, and the human army stayed far on the sidelines to watch. Teneborum wasn¡¯t sure what to do until it felt the prickle of magic that indicated that at least one of the sorcerers in that army had noticed the missing stars and sought to understand why.

    That turned out to be a tragic mistake. A God of Shadows could not allow that, and while it continued to study the array of forces on the field, it swooped down and ended the humans with little more than a thought. Only a few of the souls that it consumed even understood that they were in danger, and only that first sorcerer managed to cast a single spell before they were reduced to meat.

    Mortal forces meant nothing to it anymore. To think I labored so long and fought so hard against insignificant worms like this, it thought scornfully, before it called out ¡°Enough!¡± and halted all motion on the battlefield before it.

    To call these armies would have done a disservice to the word. Once, this grand army had more than thirty thousand war zombies, backed with thousands of calvary, hundreds of siege giants, and an untold number of specialized abominations. Now, only the dregs remained.

    Tenebroum could have forgiven that much. In its absence, deprived of resources and essence it could see its armies grinding down to nothing. Fighting each other, though, this was utterly unacceptable. It called to the generals on both sides and met them on the field of battle. This time, it did not attempt to don a human shape. It was too angry for that. Instead, it was a cyclone of anger at the center of two deadlocked forces frozen in place until it decided what would happen next.

    The dark God did not wait for either entity to explain themselves. It simply ransacked their minds as it had done with Krulm¡¯venor. Unlike the godling, though, they did not even attempt to resist, which made the whole thing even more confusing.

    After so many betrayals in its absence, Tenebroum was expecting to find one more. And execute both of them on the spot. Instead, it found a terrible miscommunication that had led to months of completely unnecessary and avoidable warfare, and it sighed in disgust.

    The way that the triumvirate of Dark Paragons had been created, each of them acted on their own initiative while they worked together with the other two. However, in cases where the three of them disagreed, they voted on the correct course of action. That had worked fine as long as there were three of them.

    There weren¡¯t three of them anymore, though. A holy warrior of some renown had managed to kill one of its Dark Paragons at the cost of his own life. Normally, such a paltry sacrifice would have been nothing, but in this case, once he had done so, the other two could no longer agree.

    After that, rather than fighting the enemy, they fought about how to fight the enemy. ¡°What a terrible waste this was,¡± he growled as he studied both creatures while they stood rigidly at attention in their plate mail.

    Tenebroum wasn¡¯t sure if it would simply replace them both or make more of them so this wouldn¡¯t happen again. For now, it simply created a hierarchy, designating one of them as primary and the other as secondary. It was a simple enough change, and instantly, it fixed the problem, at least for now.

    ¡°Clean up your dead and retrieve the corpses of your freshly slain enemies on that hill,¡± Tenebroum commanded. ¡°After that, put this force back into some kind of shape and do show the mortals why they should fear us once more.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± they both answered, bringing gauntlets to their chest in unison.

    Tenebroum didn¡¯t stick around for questions or conversations, though. The Dark Paragons were geniuses only in a single aspect of life. Their thoughts in any other sphere were practically nonexistent. A conversation with them would be as interesting as watching a fleshcrafter stitch the skin back onto a war zombie.

    Besides, the night was only so long, and given how far it was from its lair right now, Tenebroum needed to head south once more. Even if it didn¡¯t, it already knew everything there was to know here. This Kingdom had been shaping up to be a tough nut to crack, but its sudden absence had made it impossible, and even before its generals had short-circuited, their progress had stalled.

    None of that mattered now, of course. It would handle things itself from this point.

    Still, when it went back south, it planned to look for his Voice of Reason, but this time, it wasn¡¯t simply the little porcelain doll that Tenebroum couldn¡¯t find. It was the city of Tanda; the whole thing was just gone. It wasn¡¯t that it was empty or that the desert had taken it either. The city had vanished, and along with it, the broad delta and the harbor that had made it so wealthy.

    The God of Darkness looked on this development in annoyance, but it could not linger. Sunrise was coming soon, and it wanted to be deep in its lair before false dawn colored the sky. It would be back one day soon to study this mystery, though. There was something here that it did not yet see.

 Ch. 217 - Something Missing

    Something terrible was happening, but Jordan did not know what. He could barely even point to something specific, but that didn¡¯t matter. What mattered were the things he couldn¡¯t see or had glimpsed only briefly.

    ¡°But the prophecy was fulfilled, and Malkezeen is no more,¡± he sighed, rubbing his eyes. ¡°So what is this feeling?¡±

    With a sun back in the sky for half the day, his job had become much easier. He no longer had to spend most of his time micromanaging the stars and could instead focus on learning from the past and studying the loose threads of the future.

    Still, beyond clouds of swirling darkness that he¡¯d spotted on the last several nights, he would be hard to point to a single piece of evidence that proved anything. The All-Father was still missing, but according to both the gods of today and the journals from the past, that wasn¡¯t so uncommon. He really did just disappear for decades and centuries sometimes. If he begged Niama or one of the other terrestrial gods, they might seek him out for Jordan, but as God of The Moon, he was remarkably poorly placed to look for someone who built his kingdom beneath the mountains.

    He left the Book of Ways open on his desk all the time now, hoping to catch it twitching to life in some unguarded moment, as it sometimes did. That never happened, though.  He was left in the dark, with no clear way to determine what the problem that was nagging at him might be.

    He¡¯d brought it up to Leo yesterday at Sunset, just before moonrise, after the boy had finished his ride, but the new Sun God didn¡¯t share his concern. ¡°Evil yet lingers, I agree,¡± he said, looking right through Jordan as he stepped off of his flaming chariot, ¡°But nature is healing. It¡¯s only been a couple of weeks, and I can already see it. Everywhere by Blackwater is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± Jordan exclaimed. ¡°If the Lich is dead, then why does that shadow remain.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Leo answered with a shrug. ¡°The land is too stained to make much sense of it. There¡¯s no life left to feed on there or people left to hurt. Even the Red Hills doesn¡¯t have too many goblins left. I could try burning the land to ash to see if that helps nature take its course, but¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that will be necessary,¡± Jordan answered with a shake of his head. ¡°We should focus on the healthy parts of the world, not those that are past saving.¡± Though he would be more than happy to intervene or call for his fellow gods to do the same if only they had a proper target, striking blindly would only cause new problems.

    ¡°Malkezeen is finally eradicated, I think,¡± Leo volunteered hopefully. ¡°That¡¯s good news, right? I¡¯ve found no more of his rats in the last couple of days, and I looked hard.¡±

    Jordan smiled at that. Despite inheriting so much awesome power, Leo was still just a young man who was eager to please. Sometimes, Jordan forgot that. He wished that he had more advice to give their young sun, but neither of them had much experience in their current roles. Apparently, that wasn¡¯t uncommon in the wake of periods of darkness when the slate was cleaned. The world would survive somehow. It always did before, in the never-ending cycle of darkness and light that seemed to be the only common refrain throughout history.

    ¡°I did notice that a city seemed to be missing today,¡± Leo said finally. While Jordan was still lost in thought. ¡°That¡¯s weird, isn¡¯t it? How do you suppose a whole city vanishes?¡±

    ¡°What? Where?¡± Jordan asked, instantly concerned. He¡¯d been so busy looking for things that didn¡¯t belong that he hadn¡¯t even bothered to look for something that might be missing.

    Leo didn¡¯t know the name of the city, but he described the location, and Jordan murmured, ¡°Tanda, hmmm¡­ That¡¯s a big place. They were recovering nicely from their recent brush with that beast, too. I wonder what could have happened?¡±

    Neither of them had any answers, but as soon as the half-moon rose later that night, that was the first place that Jordan looked, and it was, in fact, gone. There was only a faint trace of darkness in the sands, but that wasn¡¯t what stood out to him. Slowly, he increased the light of the moon to look for any clues as to how a large and prosperous city might just vanish into thin air. When he did so, he didn¡¯t find what he was looking for, but what he did notice was the way that his light refracted strangely around a portion of where the city once stood.

    As he studied it, he heard the faintest whisper, ¡°Leave me be, but it notices you.¡±

    There was fear in that voice, but even before Jordan could even wonder at who it was he was talking to or ask a question, a single woman strode out of thin air to appear on the glowing sands. The sight would have been strange with any woman appearing like that, but the sight of this woman took his breath away. She was made of marble, shot through with veins of gold. Even if she hadn¡¯t been moving, she would have been one of the most beautiful statues he¡¯d ever seen.

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    Jordan took a moment to look for a trap, and then when he found nothing obvious, he manifested on the sands not so far from her in his ghostly pale form. Leo had called it offputting, and said that he looked like he as dead, but Jordan thought he looked regal and mysterious like this.

    ¡°You think your light will protect you?¡± she asked, not even a little surprised that he¡¯d appeared. ¡°Not from it. The darkness has grown too strong to fear the light.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ who exactly?¡± Jordan asked. ¡°And who are you exactly?¡±

    ¡°I am the Voice of the City,¡± the woman said simply, with only the smallest of bows, ¡°And you are the man in the moon.¡±

    ¡°Well, I suppose that¡¯s one way of putting it,¡± Jordan said with a chuckle. ¡°But who is it you¡¯re afraid of, and what exactly happened to your city?¡±

    ¡°Tanda has been¡­ put away,¡± she answered after thinking about it for a moment. ¡°It is too dangerous to leave the city lying around where anyone could find it.¡±

    ¡°But Malzekeen is dead,¡± Jordan said. ¡°The danger is over. You can¡ª¡±

    ¡°Malzakeen is not at issue, and honestly, I am shocked that my predecessor did not do the same thing to protect her gleaming white walls,¡± the city goddess answered dismissively, ¡°but she valued the happiness of the people more than her own survival. I, on the other hand, will do what is best for them, no matter how much they might hate me for it.¡±

    ¡°Predecessor? If you know that Malzekeen is dead, then who is it you¡¯re afraid of?¡± he asked.

    As he spoke, he studied the way the light refracted around her, revealing an invisible doorway just behind her. Somehow, she¡¯d hidden away her city in a strange little pocket dimension. It made a strange sort of sense to him, given that the Gods and Goddesses of Cities were said to have absolute power over everything inside their boundaries, but even so, he''d never even imagined this sort of use for the power before, much less heard of it being used like that before.

    ¡°The darkness has become unchained,¡± she said, looking around nervously. ¡°My master¡­ I-I wish I could still serve it, but it has thrown off the shackles of humanity or mortality that it might have once possessed. It has become a great haboob now, and I fear it will scour this world clean.¡±

    ¡°Who is¡­ was your master?¡± Jordan asked. ¡°I have seen nothing.¡±

    ¡°You are the light,¡± she snapped, ¡°And the light cannot see the darkness. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Here you are, my child¡­¡± A voice echoed out from somewhere deep in the night. That stilled the woman instantly. ¡°You thought you could hide from me in the light? You thought you could work with them?¡±

    The voice was a echoing, grating thing, and it put Jordan¡¯s teeth on edge from the first moment he heard it. It put him on his guard too, and he increased the brightness of the moon, pushing the darkness back even further from the dune the two of them stood upon as he looked for the source.

    There was something swirling out there at the edge of the light, but each time Jordan adjusted the glow it slipped away to somewhere else. Each time it left behind only the indistinct impression of a man.

    ¡°I make alliances with no one,¡± the woman said solemnly, ¡°And I would never betray you. Please know that, but I have other obligations now. I must¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your only obligation is to me!¡± the voice roared. ¡°Anything else is a betrayal.¡±

    The woman gave no reply to that. Instead, she bowed once more and stepped backward into nothingness. The gate that led into her domain vanished as soon as she¡¯d finished using it, leaving Jordan alone on the pale sands, looking for an enemy it could not quite locate.

    ¡°It is no matter,¡± the disembodied voice growled. ¡°She cannot escape me for long, I will deal with you first.¡±

    Jordan¡¯s first impulse was to flee as well, but instead, he started to cast a spell. That was something that he hadn¡¯t done in a long time, and it felt good to do so. As a student, he¡¯d known perhaps two dozen spells, and he¡¯d only really been good at three or four of them, but now his knowledge of magic was almost encyclopedic. He probably still didn¡¯t know quite as much as Taz, but he almost certainly knew more than any living mage.

    Instantly, he was surrounded by a constellation of tiny, flickering stars that rotated around him. This would have been a fairly useless spell against anything else, but if the thing that was attacking him was so strongly aligned with the darkness, then he could do much worse than summon a swarm of fireflies. They were not insects, of course. They were glimmering motes of pure moonlight typically used to fight the shadowy monstrosities that had managed to slip by the stars from time to time. At first, Jordan thought that was what this thing might have been, but it was clear this was something larger.

    The darkness that was swirling hundreds of feet away from him started to encroach despite the bright moonlight that surrounded him. That was a troubling sign, and with a word he sent thousands of motes of lite shooting off in all directions, looking for his true enemy. Even as he did so, though, he was already summoning a second wave. That was good because the darkness was growing, not shrinking.

    The inky blackness rose up like a wave around his clearing of light on all sides, swallowing every one of the tiny motes with little more than a ripple. Then, despite the focused moonlight, it surged toward him.

    Jordan was not defenseless, of course. He summoned beams of light as well as domes and barriers even as the light of the moon continued to increase above him. He blasted whatever this was back in a dozen places, but still, through all that, he could find nothing vital to strike at. He was fighting an undifferentiated mass of evil, and retreat was quickly beginning to look like the most valid option as the walls of darkness grew ever closer and higher while they encroached on his position.

 Ch. 218 - A Starless Sky

    While a single tendril of Tenebroum¡¯s vast spirit distracted the glowing man that could only be the new God of the Moon, The newest of its dark riders raced skywards. The man was doing damage to it, and it could feel whole stretches of shadow boiling off every minute, but that wasn¡¯t the point. The point was to keep the man busy while it struck at the stars.

    It was only by luck that the God of Shadows had stumbled across him in this place. It had planned to strike at the stars again with another towering shadow while it launched its main attack elsewhere, but that would not be necessary now. The mystery of the missing city had drawn both of them here, and thanks to that, Tenebroum now had an answer to that riddle, too. Its Voice of Reason had somehow become the Goddess of that city, and she was holding it somewhere far away where it could not devour it.

    Where it could not devour the city yet, Tenebroum clarified. It was a morsel that it would feast on eventually, but not today.

    For now, it needed to fight larger battles. First, it would strike out at the moon and stars, and then when those were dealt with and it had access to the eternal abyss of night that lay beyond them, it would strike out at the sun. When that happened, only one of them would survive, and Tenebroum was fairly certain it would be victorious.

    So, it tested and probed and at times let the new Moon God think that he was winning while its new bat winged servant soared ever higher into the unwatched night sky. It would probably be the first and last flight of the shadowy creature; Tenebroum very much doubted that it would survive the fireworks that it was about to unleash.

    The dark rider did not head toward a weak point in the arcane array of the constellations, though there were several. Instead, it flew right toward the heart of the densest constellation of stars. It was a large circular mass that was almost as bright as any of the others, and the humans called it the Shield for good reason, even if it doubted they had any idea that it was the lynchpin for the entire spell that kept the infinite night at bay.

    Tenebroum chose to strike there both because the night sky was a lot stronger now than it was when it had last attempted to crack the barrier via sneak attack and because when that constellation came undone, the ripple effects would be enormous.

    As each moment passed, the darkness waited for the Moon God to notice and do something, but the man was more concerned with the shadows boiling around him than anything that was happening in the sky. That was a terrible mistake.

    Just after midnight, the skull that had been Krulm¡¯venor until so recently detonated in a black fireball that would have been invisible to any mortal onlookers despite its mammoth size. The dark violet fireball rippled out, finally ending the existence of the long-suffering godling. It wasn¡¯t a mercy of any sort, though, because Tenebroum¡¯s efforts to maximize what would follow in the wake of that explosion had rendered it well and truly insane.

    The same was true for the thousands of copies that rippled out from that singularity of evil, though. Each one of them resembled one of its explosive death''s heads that had become so ubiquitous during its recent military campaigns than it did the fire godling, but they were anything but simple explosives.

    The world might not have seen that explosion, but the Mood God did, and he vanished instantly, returning to his domain in a gleam of light even as the moon began to rotate. That was no matter. The element of surprise didn¡¯t last forever, and it was already much too late.

    While the forces of light tried to react, its weapon had already reached its many targets, and each of those tiny fiery heads exploded again. This snuffed out a few of the weakest stars all on its own, but that was not all they¡¯d been built for. Out of every one of those explosions, dozens of midnight black, distilled goblin souls crawled out of the violet flames, hungry and spoiling for a fight.

    One moment, the entire night sky was defending against the darkness as usual, in an interlocking phalanx of light that spanned from one horizon to the other, and the center of that formation was facing a knife in their backs. The goblins alone were nowhere near enough to turn the tide, but then, they weren¡¯t alone. Under the best of times, the stars faced an infinite midnight menagerie of formless, shapeless monstrosities. Now, its distraction was overwhelming them, and even as Tenebroum watched, whole waves of stars were winking out of existence.

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    It began to move then, back to its lair for what came next. All the stars in the sky were moving now as the Moon God attempted to compensate for the sudden and unexpected loss at the center of its formation. Those disruptions rippled out, over and over again, through the night sky, creating endless weak links and minor leaks. When Tenebroum reached its lair, it targeted the one that was most directly overhead and soared skyward, far above the heights that it usually lingered at.

    Last time it had done this, it had been as a tenuous needle, attempting to complete only the barest of circuits with the infinite abyss. This time, it was a tower, that was still nearly a mile wide as it rapidly approached the stars while dozens of its heads sang the songs that held the magic for such a maneuver together.

    Everything was going according to plan now. As it rammed into the central hub of the Ram constellation, it shattered it utterly, taking out dozens of defenders without slowing down. Those defenders were not the point anymore. Now, it had access to two wells of infinite darkness, and it was linked to them above and below. Even as the moon began to bloom to life and focus its rays on it, Tenebroum was ready and shrugged off the first focused attack that it launched.

    Once, long ago, when the children of the forest had pinned it with their arrows, those moonbeams had burned right through its misty form. Now, they were lost in the tower of darkness that it had become. There was nothing for it to strike at any longer. It had become a singularity, and only oblivion existed inside its vast spirit now.

    Tenebroum lashed out with dozens of tendrils this time, instead of the singular one it had been forced to fight with last time, and every second, more and more stars went out as it lashed out with them against the tiny defenders. That widened the hole around it until the constellation was all but erased, causing a great rift of stars to widen, stretching halfway across the sky to connect the two breaches.

    Shadows were raining down on the world now. They were bleeding from the open wound it had rent across the night sky, and the moon was flailing ineffectively to prevent any of this. It couldn¡¯t. It lacked the power. The only thing that might be able to stop it was the sun, and it would not yet rise for hours. At least, it wasn¡¯t supposed to.

    Tenebroum knew full well that the God of the Moon had almost certainly warned it, and so, the new Lord of Light might appear on the horizon at any moment, which was why it was all the more important that it finished this quickly.

    Tenebroum had accounted for this, too, though. It had already prepared a spell of unbelievable complexity, and even as 22 of the heads were singing a spell that held it up to the sky in such a way, the remaining 66 joined in, singing a new discordant melody in counterpoint.

    It could feel the power building now, miles up, as its tendrils reached out past the starlight barrier into the void. There was a very small chance that somewhere out there, some leviathan or behemoth of such size existed that might disrupt Tenebroum¡¯s plans, but it ignored that now as it got into position for the final thrust.

    The moon was already attacking it and its tendrils with everything it had as the remaining stars in this quadrant of the sky marched on it or soared across the sky as fleeting shooting stars. assaulted it from all directions. Even those attacks were as buzzing flies, though, and the God of Darkness ignored them as its spell built to a crescendo.

    Then, when all was in readiness, a single trembling note was all that was needed to unleash hell. The moon existed as a shield to shelter the world from the terrors of the night. It was a powerful, durable weapon against the darkness. In this case, though, the attack did not come from where it was aimed, though. It came from directly behind it, and that single ebon thrust of baleful energy was enough to shatter the giant glowing orb completely.

    One second, it was lighting half the world and ineffectually burning away against Tenebroum¡¯s outermost lair like a spotlight, and the next, its glow was fading as it broke into pieces, and each of those pieces dimmed to nothing.

    As expected, the stars began to wink out of existence immediately. This started out, one by one, but soon became a cascade as the darkness spread farther and father. The night sky was being consumed, and soon, the rest of the world would follow.

    What it had not expected was for the rush of magic to fill it as the moon started to reform as a dark orb, hanging as a dull red against the night sky where the old moon had hung. For a moment, it thought that it was about to be cheated of its victory against the Gods once more, but instead, as knowledge flooded its mind unbidden, it quickly realized that it was the God of the moon now and all that came with it.

    Tenebroum hadn¡¯t realized that was how that worked until that moment, but even now, it wasn¡¯t sure what he was supposed to do with a moon as the details blurred before it. Mentally, it shrugged and pushed all of that away as it focused on everything else. There was a thin blush of blue on the horizon now, which meant that he was coming.

    Tenebroum very much doubted that it would be coming alone, either. None of this could be hidden, and the screams of the people around the world as they were eaten alive by shadows could not be ignored either. The world was over now, and when this was done, only Tenebroum would remain.

 Ch. 219 - Free For All

    Even though Tenebroum¡¯s mortal enemy was approaching from somewhere over the horizon hours earlier than he normally would, the spirit of darkness felt no fear. Why should it? In a single stroke, it had just shattered the sky, murdered the moon, and snuffed out nearly every star. A few remained as they stood alone against the dark, but they only emphasized the darkness now, with their pathetic light, and it felt no need to move against them right away.

    Instead, the God of Darkness focused on other threats. Dawn was not its only enemy in this moment. It could feel the world turning against it. Though it stood miles tall right now as a bridge between the twin abysses of the night sky and the bottomless depths, it could feel storm clouds gathering high above the earth. As high as they were, though, they only reached the middle of its towering, nightmarish form.

    Lightning flashed, and thunder rolled, but any wounds those electric arcs caused healed as soon as the darkness returned. Even someone as great as the Goddess of Sea and Storms could no longer hurt it, and the Goddess of Nature didn¡¯t even attempt to come close. How could she? It had poisoned the land for dozens of miles in every direction now. There was nothing natural about Tenebroum anymore.

    There are almost certainly dozens or even hundreds of middling and small gods that would love nothing more than to strike at me now, it thought, but how can they? They are anchored to their mountains, rivers, and cities. The only ones who had a chance at defeating me are already dead!

    The swirling maelstrom of darkness wasn¡¯t surprised even a little by the febrile response. Dawn would be the decider. It had always known that and dawn was coming.

    That¡¯s not the way it worked out, though. Instead, somewhere below the ineffectual storm that raged around what had once been blackwater, another figure approached. They were the only person on that desolate plain, but that wasn¡¯t what caught Tenebroum¡¯s attention. It was that the hooded figure moved an impossible distance with every stride, and with each step they got closer, they grew.

    Soon, she was bigger than Siddrim¡¯s corpse had been before Tenebroum had taken it apart for essence and raw materials, but it had no clue who she might be. It wasn¡¯t about to take any chances, though, and it blasted her to ruin with similar magics to what it had used on the moon. It had no need to moderate its power at this point. It would never run out of the dark energies that powered it now; the only possible danger was in overexerting its phylactery, which it was in no danger of doing just now.

    For a moment, the horizon was blotted out by the tangle of violent tentacles, but when they cleared, she had grown ever larger and showed no signs of distress. That¡¯s when it finally saw the bones beneath her skin and understood. This was the Goddess of Death, and she had at last come for him.

    How she had managed that trick, it had no idea. According to everything it had learned, the Lord of Light had either slain or imprisoned her. Tenebroum had longed assumed that to be the case, both because of what the Lord of Light had done to Malkezeen and because it had never run into her during all of its struggles and efforts. To see here now, though, on the eve of its success, was concerning.

    ¡°You have no claim on me,¡± Tenebroum rumbled, so loud that its echoing voice blotted out even the storm that was raging below it for a moment.

    ¡°All dead things are my domain,¡± she answered calmly, ¡°and had Siddrim not killed me in his effort to make a more perfect world, then you would never have grown as strong as you are now, spirit.¡±

    ¡°If you are dead, then how is it you are here?¡± it asked. Even as it spoke, the heads at the root of its tower had begun to sing a different song, and it was analyzing her with magic now, in all the ways it knew how, as it struggled to find the right way to strike at her.

    ¡°I¡¯ve enjoyed my time in the afterlife,¡± she smiled, the illusion of her dark skin getting thinner to reveal the bony form underneath. ¡°But you have robbed this place of all life. It¡¯s my home now more than it¡¯s yours, and I think you¡¯ve done quite enough damage to the natural order.¡±

    ¡°You think you can stop me?¡± Tenebroum asked in a voice filled with derision. That was when it felt its lands start to sink, for lack of a better word. Nothing moved, and its tower to the heavens did not sway, but still, something was shifting, and it could feel itself being drawn into the underworld, which, of course, it could not allow.

    ¡°This is mine!¡± Tenebroum roared. ¡°All of it. From the deepest pit to the tallest mountain! Mine!¡±

    ¡°Well, if that¡¯s the case, and your dead heart belongs to me, then I suppose they all belong to me as well,¡± she answered with a shrug. ¡°And frankly, I¡¯m not interested in any more territory than I already have.¡± She wasn¡¯t even fighting him. That was the worst part. She was just standing there, halfway to the sky, a pale phantom, and somehow, she was winning.

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    Did it really have a dead heart at its core anymore, though? Tenebroum wondered. The souls of the humans that had nurtured it were such a small thing compared to what they¡¯d once been.

    As it studied both its own soul and hers, it eventually decided that she had it exactly backward. While there was only a little death left in itself, there were oceans of darkness left in her. As it decided that and figured out exactly where she was pushing and where it could apply pressure in return, the slow sinking sensation slowly ground to a halt, and she looked at it in concern for the first time.

    ¡°No,¡± Tenebroum said definitely. ¡°Darkness can exist without death, but in death, there is only darkness. You confuse who is in charge of who at your own peril. Flee now and leave me to fight the sun while you still can.¡±

    She didn¡¯t move, though, and it didn¡¯t really expect her to. Thanks to millennia of death, she had an ocean of power behind her that was nearly as large as the reservoirs Tenebroum commanded.

    Such things could not be settled with violence. This was instead becoming a battle of will between the two dark titans, and even though she was a power to be feared, Tenebroum did not fear her. Instead, it let her tear the last of its humanity free from it, unmooring it completely from the last shreds of mortality, losing her grip on it in the process.

    They were nothing now. A thief, a murderer, and a few traitors. They were the seed but not the mighty oak that it had become. It watched them go but fell no weaker for it. The greater parts of its soul had long since been made up of shadows and the spirits of dead gods.

    Next, she tried again, and it felt her tearing at its phylactery, trying to rip that free and unmoor it completely. Death was still there, of course. That was the last inextricable connection where death played a part in its existence because that was what connected it to this world.

    Were she to succeed, Tenebroum might end up as a rampaging behemoth with no more control or understanding than the terrible monstrosities from the outer darkness that it feasted on so regularly. It was unafraid, though. It had already guessed those would be her next targets.

    After all, where was death stronger, anywhere in the world,l than in the depths of its lair? There could be no graveyard or mausoleum that was closer to the underworld than that place, and even as she tried to claim it completely, it knew that she would not succeed.

    Tenebroum had taken no chances in the construction of its lair, and though it had done nothing to protect against this Goddess especially, there were lairs of glyphs and enchantments that bound each piece of itself to every other. It was a knot of impossible complexity, and she would never untangle it. While she did so, its tendrils began to worm its way into her soul, too.

    The plains around its ring were writhing with the hands and claws of a million dead reaching up out of their own graves to drag it into the underworld, but even so many limbs could not cross the boundary that it had set in stone so long ago.

    The two gods probed each other, looking for weaknesses that they could exploit while the faraway sun began to rise. Tenebroum felt the burn, but it knew that death felt it too. Her movements were growing desperate and wreckless. The thing that Tenebroum had feared most, for the longest time, besides that little speck of hallowed ground at the heart of the swamp was the daylight. It might be able to inflict a mortal wound on death, but it knew that it could withstand what she could not.

    That was why it had wormed its tentacles deep inside her bottomless soul. It had not sought to claim her, and she was trying to do with him. It merely sought to tangle and hold the ancient skeleton so that she could not escape. She didn¡¯t find that out, though, until the fires of the heavens became too great for her. They were both smoking by that point, but whereas Tenebroum remained a perfect pillar of obsidian night, her voluminous cloak was already burning away to reveal the ivory skeleton beneath.

    ¡°I will leave our new Lord of Light to finish you,¡± she proclaimed, ¡°But if you manage to best him, I will still return to claim you.¡±

    ¡°No one who has ever attempted to take something from me has survived the attempt,¡± Tenebroum gloated, ¡°And you shall not be the first.¡±

    She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again when she realized she was stuck fast. A forest of thorny briars had grown inside her and chained her fast to Tenebroum. There would be no escape for her.

    ¡°What did you do!¡± she cried out. ¡°The dead cannot claim death any more than shadow can endure the light.¡±

    ¡°And yet here I am,¡± Tenebroum answered as she started to burst into flame. ¡°When the light kills you, I shall claim your kingdom too, and then your strength will become my strength.¡± Truthfully, even from this distance, the light of the sun was already hurting a great deal, but it would never show that.

    ¡°Death cannot die!¡± she shouted.

    ¡°It cannot endure the light of day, either,¡± Tenebroum said mockingly.

    In the end, it did not have to kill death. It would let her allies do that. Even as whatever blurry shape it was that had replaced Siddrim drew his bow and fired the first volley of heavenly light at it, it used her as a human shield, letting the dead god absorb as much of the punishment as she could before fading away to nothing.

    None of that mattered, though. All that mattered, in the end, was whether light was stronger than dark. For Tenebroum¡¯s entire existence, the opposite had been true, but it had already upended the rest of the natural order, so this was its final task.

 Ch. 220 - The Last Day

    Leo charged across the sky as soon as he received Jordan¡¯s whispered warning, but he was too late. From where the solar palace sat on the far side of the world, he hadn¡¯t even noticed anything amiss, and by the time he was whipping his team of horses to make them go even faster, the moon was already breaking up on the distant night sky.

    That horrified him, but not as much as the strange pillar of night that he saw next. Leo had only taken his place as the sun for a short time, but he¡¯d already grown used to the edge of night retreating in front of him even as it advanced behind him. It was a normal behavior. The idea that any darkness would stand in defiance of him, though, was more than odd; it was impossible.

    Everything was impossible, though. Leo never had a very good view of the stars. Besides Cynara, it was one of the things he missed most. Usually, he could still see them distantly, at least, before they faded away completely. On this ride, though, they were almost all gone before he even got close, and those few that remained were falling.

    It was a nightmare, and more than anything, he wanted to ask someone what he should do about it. There was no one to ask, though, not with Jordan gone. Leo took heart when he got closer and saw the skeleton, though. He had no idea what he was supposed to do about a tornado of darkness, but he knew exactly what to do with undead abominations. It was the only thing he was any good at.

    Of course, I¡¯m better with a sword, he thought as he tied his reigns around the rail and reached down to string his bow.

    Anything to do with a bow made him think of Cynara. No, that was a lie, he realized. Everything made him think of his wife. It was just that some things did more than others.

    He didn¡¯t let that distract him, though. Whatever this thing was, she was hundreds of miles from it, and he was sure that she would be okay. He would make sure she was okay. He had to. That was the only thing that kept him going. Jordan had promised him that when she died one day, her soul would be heroic enough to join his and that instead of becoming a star in the sky, she could join him and make him burn all the brighter, or she could become a handmaid in his palace. Either was better than the occasional glimpse he got of her some days as he rode across the sky.

    That was what he thought about when he unleashed that first volley. Though he only nocked and released a single arrow, that arrow divided again and again until a hundred lances of light stormed across the sky. Even before they reached his target, he was already drawing back on another shaft of light to do it again.

    By the time he was close enough to put away his bow and draw his sword, the giant, mountain sized skeleton was already crumbling into dust, which gave Leo hope, yet somehow, the pillar remained in defiance of it, and it was much larger than even the strange black spire he¡¯d seen rising up from distant Blackwater. That thing had been an oddity when it had existed, but this was a menace.

    He wasn¡¯t sure what he was supposed to do about it, but he¡¯d already decided that he was going to have to make another pass. That was something that he wasn¡¯t supposed to do, of course, because heating the world unevenly could cause all manner of problems, but those problems could wait. No problem he could create by accident would be worse than not ending whatever this was.

    ¡°Is it some kind of monster from out there?¡± he wondered as he drew his heavenly blade and looked to the night sky.

    Jordan had told him that there were giant monsters in the dark that were bigger than any whale. That was his job, apparently. To protect the world from such monsters.

    Leo supposed that was possible, but Jordan had described the creatures as being monstrous, with bulging eyes, dozens of mouths, and hundreds of tentacles, while the thing he rode toward, was a sleek, black pillar of darkness, that seemed to do nothing besides smoke faintly at his approach.

    If it had been anywhere else, even the missing city that had so startled Jordan, Leo might have believed that. This darkness connected to the world below in a singular terrible place that made him kick himself for having underestimated it. It was the place where Brother Faerbar¡¯s crusade had ended and the place where the dead that had devoured civilization had originally erupted. That could only mean that the lich that had started this had concocted some new and terrible spell and that¡ª

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    Leo jerked the reins hard, altering his flight path. He¡¯d been rising closer and closer so he could hack away at the pillar. He hadn¡¯t planned to ride directly to it. That was far too reckless. Instead, he was just going to make an exploratory attack and see how sturdy this thing really was when suddenly, the side facing him exploded into dozens of tentacles that raced toward him.

    The ones that got closest to his horses burst into flames before they ever got close. The rest of the forest of tendrils largely missed, though a few grabbed hold of the left railing and wheel. Leo leaned over and cut away at the writhing mass before they could do much more than slow him down.

    After that, he galloped in an ever tighter path around the thing, making his light burn that much brighter. He was scorching the mountaintops of the Wodenspine Mountains and melting glaciers, but he couldn¡¯t worry about that now. Forests would burn, and if anyone lived them, they would die, but as long as this thing continued to do whatever it was doing, they would all die anyway.

    Leo wasn¡¯t great at driving his chariot yet, but the horses were far older than him and did much of the work themselves. He steered around only the largest tendrils and chose to smash right through the curtains of smaller waving fronds. Those were hectic moments as he struggled to navigate the three-dimensional maze, where the things got ever closer to blocking him on all sides.

    By the third loop around the giant column, he was only just barely able to cut away at the thing with his sword, and even then, he was only able to do so by blazing it so brightly that it flared to maximum length. The result was instantaneous. The wall of blackness shattered at even the lightest touch of his celestial fire, and though the thing immediately tried to regrow, it was a slow enough process that Leo could see it was struggling.

    All of this happened in only a moment, though. After that, he was forced to pull away and give wide birth to the thing as he evaded giant serpents of shadow that were chasing him from behind.

    He and his team raced through the growing thicket of darkness that sought to trap him, but in the end, they finally broke free. It was only from that distance that it was able to see that the pillar of darkness had begun to resemble something more like a tree than a gleaming celestial pillar, as it had done previously.

    Did that have significance? Leo wondered. He wasn¡¯t sure.

    The thing had no leaves, but the way entire forests of tentacles were waving in the unseen breeze in a bid to grab him made the comparison unavoidable. More disconcerting was the fact that he couldn¡¯t even see any evidence of all the damage he¡¯d done from this distance. He was going to have to hit it harder.

    As he wheeled around to come in for another pass, he wracked his brain for the right answer. ¡°You deal with a tree with an axe, but I don''t think my¡­¡± his words trailed off as he looked from his sword to his team of horses and back again. He did have one thing that might work like an axe against a mile¡¯s tall tree, he realized, but it was a really dumb idea.

    Leo shrugged and said, ¡°It¡¯s what Brother Faerber would do,¡± before he turned his chariot and started straight toward the base of the towering structure, picking up speed the whole way.

    I cut right through it before, like morning fog, he tried to reassure himself as he steadily lost altitude. He knew he shouldn¡¯t do something so reckless, but he was out of options now.

    So, instead of doing the smart thing, he roared down from the heavens like a comment, blowing away the storm clouds between him and the earth below like they were nothing more than a curtain. ¡°I can do this, he reassured himself. Just one good hit, and this whole thing will fall apart, just like the tentacles and the¡­¡±

    As the wall of shadows got closer and closer, it took up nearly his entire view. The horses grew nervous, but they didn¡¯t disobey. Instead, they charged ever faster, right up until the last moment. When he reached the wall of shadows, it disappeared before him like it had never existed at all for the first several seconds. Leo thought sure that he¡¯d made the right decision. He could practically see the giant tower leaning, and he was prepared for it to fall to the ground with a terrible sound.

    Then, with no warning at all, he hit a wall. One moment, the darkness was retreating at the same pace he was moving forward, and then it solidified like a wall of dark iron, and it dashed him and his chariot to ruin. The chaos and the carnage was almost too much to take in, especially over the shock and the disbelief.

    The wind was knocked out of him by the blow as the chariot came apart around him, but Leo was too stunned to even feel the pain as he realized that somehow he¡¯d been outsmarted by whatever this was. He wasn¡¯t able to see if the horses had been dashed to pieces as much as everything else, as the wall of darkness grabbed for him, but that was something he could worry about later.

    The glowing wings that sprouted out of his back at that moment came as a complete surprise to him, but as he circled clumsily, trying to steer away from the wall of solidified darkness that had nearly cost him his life, he saw a large hole at the center of the ruined town that had once been Blackwater. He didn¡¯t know what was down there exactly, but he knew that this awful tree had sprouted from it, and before it could resolidify, he was going to go down there and purge it with fire.