-The desert, the ridge-
Sleep had taken Talia and the Diviner after the brutal climb and following events. Both of them were exhausted. Talia stirred first, the stiff ache of her body pulling her awake. The memory of the night before rushed back unbidden—the heat of the Diviner's hand, the brush of lips, the way her chest had ached with something too dangerous to name. Her eyes flicked across the firepit. The Diviner was still there, seated upright as though she hadn't slept at all, her sightless face angled toward the rising sun. For a moment, Talia let herself watch. The way the wind teased at her hair, the way a lazy, lopsided smile tugged at her lips.
Then the Diviner spoke, quiet, certain.
"You're staring again, Wildfire."
Heat snapped up Talia's neck. She scrambled for armor, for deflection.
"No, I'm not. Don't flatter yourself."
The Diviner tilted her head, the ghost of amusement dancing in her expression. But she didn't press—didn't acknowledge the kiss, didn't corner her. Just let the silence stretch, heavy with everything unspoken. Or that was how she would have acted before her new uninhibited state. Instead, every ounce of discomfort read on her features.
"You can't pretend nothing ha-"
She was cut short when a scout cried out in relief, waving them toward the regrouped soldiers, what was left of them. Talia straightened her armor before stepping into sight.
"Not now." she said sternly.
When addressing the soldiers, her voice was steady, brisk—almost too sharp as she reported the path they'd carved through the chaos. She never once looked at the Diviner while speaking. But the others noticed the exhaustion etched into both their faces, the way grit still clung to their clothes, the faint tremor of weariness in Talia's hands. Questions were asked—how had they survived when others hadn't?—but Talia brushed them aside with clipped efficiency. The Diviner, for her part, said little. But now that she was no longer afraid of being seen, the soldiers could see a very different side of her. Not anger or regret. She stood just behind Talia, fragile and hurt, her silence sharp as glass. The unspoken lingered between them, but here, in front of comrades, both retreated behind armor of different kinds. And yet—when their paths briefly crossed, a shoulder brushing, or when the Diviner tilted her head as if "seeing" her without looking, Talia's heart lurched. She hated herself for it.
Then the Diviner suddenly snapped up, her blind eyes fixed on the horizon. The action had Talia worried for a moment because it was so sudden. When she followed her gaze she saw that the day was slowly progressing across the dunes, bleeding pale light into the fading stars. The desert had quieted after the storm of collapsing stone, the air still thick with the scent of dust and burnt magic. But she knew that couldn't be what the Diviner was looking at.
Then she saw it. Standing on one of the taller dunes in the distance.
Stonefang. Just where the ridge met the valley—a hulking silhouette of gray fur and amber eyes. He had waited through the night, unmoving, the wind combing through his mane like a prayer that refused to die. When he saw them—Talia leaning on her sword, the Diviner limping towards him—he rose at once. Talia didn't say anything as the Diviner put some distance between her and what was left of the patrol. She told the patrol to stay and quietly followed the Diviner. She was torn between her duties as a paladin and what had happened between her and the Diviner. The biggest problem was that she couldn't let the patrol know about any of that.
"Stonefang," the Diviner breathed, her voice breaking into a laugh halfway through. "You stubborn, beautiful beast—you actually waited."
The wolf bounded forward but stopped short of her, paws digging into the sand. His head lowered, eyes fixed on her face. His tail didn't wag. His ears twitched once, uncertain. Talia stepped back, sensing the air between them shift—something tense and wordless passing in that space. The Diviner extended her hand, smiling with that same irreverent ease she'd worn since the temple.
"What's wrong? Don't tell me you've gone soft on me."
Stonefang didn't move. His lips curled just slightly—not in threat, but confusion. His nose flared as he took in her scent. He huffed once, sharp and low, and circled her.
"He doesn't recognize you," Talia murmured.
"Nonsense." The Diviner kept her tone light, but her smile wavered. "He's just sulking because I took too long."
The ease with which the Diviner had switched from her strained reserved to being this reckless cheerful again confused Talia greatly. Though deep down she already knew she was hiding behind a mask when they were with company, when Talia pretended nothing had happened.
The wolf stopped behind the Diviner, close enough that she could feel his breath against her back. His fur brushed her cloak as he leaned forward and pressed his muzzle against her shoulder.
The Diviner froze.
Slowly, Stonefang exhaled—a deep, guttural sigh that trembled through his frame. Then, with deliberate slowness, he bumped his head against her hand, as if to say you're changed, but you're still mine.
The Diviner's expression softened, the reckless spark in her eyes dimming just a little. She knelt beside him, fingers threading through the coarse fur at his neck.
"I know," she whispered. "Something's missing. I can feel it too."
Stonefang let out a low, plaintive sound and licked the back of her hand.
"I think," Talia said quietly, "he's worried you'll burn yourself out."
The Diviner laughed weakly, rubbing her thumb along Stonefang's jawline.
"He's not wrong. Fear kept me cautious, and now… well."
"Now you're dangerous," Talia said. "Even to yourself."
"Then he'll have to be my leash." The Diviner rested her forehead against Stonefang's. "Won't you, old friend?"
The wolf's ears twitched forward. He huffed again—soft, reluctant—and nuzzled her, as if accepting the role with the patience of one who already knew he would have no choice.
The Diviner's voice dropped to a murmur, almost tender. "See? Even without fear, he still trusts me. Maybe that's enough for now."
"Or maybe," Talia said, watching them, "he's just waiting for you to remember why you needed it."
The Diviner smiled faintly, stroking Stonefang's mane. "Then I suppose I'll just have to keep him close until I do."
Stonefang gave a low, content rumble—the sound of something ancient and loyal reclaiming its place beside her. He lowered himself to the sand, letting her rest her weight against him.
The Diviner seemed to relax a little, the tension easing from her shoulders now that Stonefang stood beside her again — his presence like an anchor in the drifting sands.
Still, something gnawed at the back of her mind.
"What do we do now, Talia?" she asked quietly.
Talia blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
"The soldiers," the Diviner said, glancing toward the weary line of armored figures in the distance. "They look to you to lead them. You have to guide them home. But we promised the Nyxir we'd save Foxglove. Our word is binding."
Talia hesitated. The Diviner was right — but there was more in her tone than strategy. Something unspoken. Something that sounded suspiciously like the aftermath of a kiss that neither had found the courage to name.
The soldiers were drawing closer, speaking in low voices, their eyes flicking between the two women. They were beginning to piece things together — the looks, the closeness, the strange, fragile tenderness that had taken root between their leaders. Then Stonefang shot up, a growl tearing from his throat. His ears flattened, teeth bared. A second later, a jet of sand burst from the ground, slicing through the air where Talia had just stood. She stumbled back, hand flying to her sword.
"What in the—"
Before she could finish, the soldiers reacted on instinct. Shields came up, swords flashed. They surged forward in formation, trained to neutralize threats before questions.
The Diviner moved faster.
She drew a sharp breath, her foot tracing a sweeping arc over the sand. A low hum trembled through the air before erupting outward — a shockwave of dust and grit that sent every soldier sprawling. The desert stilled.
"No!" she shouted once, her voice cracking the silence. "No one touches Stonefang!"
Her chest heaved. For a moment, she looked like the storm itself. Then, slowly, she turned back to her wolf, pressing a trembling hand against his massive head. His muscles quivered beneath her touch, lips still curled back in warning. But she didn't flinch.
"Calenelda—" Talia began, taking a cautious step forward.
The Diviner flinched at the name, but didn't look up.
"Just go," she said softly. "Lead them home."
Talia froze, something sharp twisting in her chest.
The Diviner's next words were barely audible.
"Just go, if you don't want me."
Then she turned away, climbing onto Stonefang's back. Neither looked back as they disappeared into the dunes, leaving behind the scattered, bewildered soldiers — and Talia standing amid the settling dust.
-Tan'Thalon: Southern Quarter-
The city stirred before the sun fully claimed it. In the Southern Quarter, morning never waited for dawn. Life rose early here—before roosters, before light, before the rest of Tan'thalon remembered to breathe. The air carried warmth already. Ritual oils. Fresh bread. A sweetness that clung to the senses, pulling hunger from even the most disciplined passerby. It softened edges. Made people linger. Captain Elira moved through it unnoticed. That was the point. Today, she wore brown—messy, uneven, forgettable. A rough wig sat over her blonde hair, paired with worn clothes that blended easily with the modest wealth of the district. Nothing about her stood out. Nothing about her invited memory. She wasn't an illusionist. No magical illusions cloaked her presence. But she didn't need them. Observation was her craft. Timing her visits. Changing her routes. Altering her face just enough to be someone new each time. And this hour— this fragile moment between night and day— was perfect. For recruiters. For whispers. For things that didn't want to be seen in full light. She drifted between stalls as shutters opened and merchants laid out their goods. Bread, pastries, bundles of herbs—each stall competing not just in product, but in voice.
"Marigold! How are you?" a baker called out, his tone bright, practiced.
"Chaotic, as usual," came the reply, light but tired.
"I bet. Four kids will do that." A faint laugh.
"The smallest one just started walking."
"Then you'll need this."
Elira didn't look—but she listened. A basket shifting. Cloth brushing.
"I added an extra baguette."
A pause.
"Oh… I can't afford that this week."
The voice dropped. Pride bending to the cobblestones below Marigold's feet, but not breaking.
"Then it's free today," the baker said, softer now. "Just bring one of the bracelets you always make next time. My daughter's been nagging my ears off for one."
A quiet exchange. An unspoken understanding. Elira moved on. That was the Southern Quarter. Not rich. Not powerful. But held together by small kindnesses and quieter debts.
That was only one of the many dialogues going around though. Every marketeer wanted to announce their goods. Freshly baked or just finished. It was a hidden war of rivalries between them. The baker's conversation wasn't the one that piqued Elira's interest though. Serenya was right in tasking her with this mission. She let the noise wash over her. Dozens of conversations layered together—prices, gossip, laughter, complaints. Most of it meaningless. Most of it. Her focus shifted. Narrowed. Filtered. That was her superpower.
And then— there. A jeweler's stall. She didn't stop immediately. Just passed by, letting her gaze drift naturally over the display. Simple pieces. Modest craftsmanship. Nothing that justified the confidence she'd noticed over the past few days. Too few customers. Too much certainty. She circled once more, slower this time, letting fragments of conversation reach her.
"Business is on fire," the jeweler said.
The phrase lingered. Wrong. Elira's eyes flicked toward him briefly. His clothes were better than the rest of the quarter. Not extravagant—but clean. Maintained. Comfortable. Out of place. Her suspicion sharpened. When the crowd thickened, she moved closer—not directly, but enough. Her hand slipped into her satchel. Out came a small device. Palm-sized. Unassuming. It flickered to life in her grip, its surface lighting with faint indicators—tiny points of signal. Clustered. Near the jeweler. Elira's breath slowed.
"Lazulli," she whispered under her breath.
She didn't need to look again, but she did. Carefully. A transaction unfolded at the stall. A customer—well dressed for the quarter—placed a heavy pouch of coin onto the counter. Too much for what sat between them. A simple necklace. Three teardrop-shaped gemstones, blue as twilight. Elegant yet unremarkable— unless you knew what you were looking at. The faint glow confirmed it. Not decorative nor safe. This was definitely Lazulli. Elira's jaw tightened. No one used Lazulli in jewelry. Not openly anyway. The risk alone made it unthinkable—its charge unstable, volatile against bare skin. Which meant only one thing— this wasn't commerce. It was transport. Clean, discreet and hidden in plain sight. Her mind moved quickly, connecting the pieces. Small sales. High value. Controlled distribution. A network. Feeding something. She watched as the customer took the necklace and disappeared into the waking crowd. No hesitation. No fear. That meant trust, or indoctrination. Elira exhaled slowly. She wanted to move, to act. To stop it before it spread further, but Serenya's voice echoed in her mind.
Observe. Record. Do not break the line before we see where it leads.
Elira forced her hands to remain still. Her eyes followed the jeweler again, committing every detail to memory. Face. Movements. Patterns. If this was a vein— then she had just found where it surfaced. And somewhere beneath it— the rot ran deeper still.
-The Desert: The ridge-
Stonefang traveled through the day, sun cutting across the endless horizon, the Diviner on his back. Her magic had yet to recover; her body ached with every movement, her thoughts coming slower than usual. Stonefang bore her weight without complaint, though his gait was slower now, his breaths heavy.
"Everything feels fuzzy," she murmured, squinting into the heat shimmer. "That's new."
Her lips curved in a weary smile. "Are we getting closer?"
Stonefang only sighed — a sound too human in its resignation. He was smart for a direwolf but even he didn't know what he was looking for. Everything here looked the same: the desert's eternal sameness of gold and silence.
"A ruin, boy," she said, resting her cheek against his neck. "We're looking for a ruin." A soft sigh followed. "I don't even know what it looks like. How can I expect you to find it for me?".
When the sun began to bleed into dusk, she gave up and dismounted by a lone boulder jutting from the sand. The desert wind had cooled, and she sank down beside Stonefang, her back to the stone. She let out a long, heavy sigh — the kind that scraped against her ribs. Then gave a long, frustrated shout that echoed far over the now ashen gray dunes. Nothing answered. Only the raspy, drawn out hisses of the Draveth gliding over a fallen camel in the distance. The Diviner was one of the few humans who could distinguish their sound from actual vultures. While the two coexisted, feeding on the same carcasses, the Draveth were humanoid and lived in small packs. Larger and smarter than their smaller animal kin. The only difference was that they could not sustain prolonged flight, where the vultures could.
Confident that they were neither dead nor dying, the Diviner curled up in Stonefang's flank and tried to get some sleep. Which had been increasingly hard after the ordeals in the temple. Talia didn't help either. Her constant shift between acknowledging and denial kept mulling through her thoughts. She made her feel like she was on top of the world one minute, and dropped her down a bottomless well the next.
Her fingers found Stonefang's fur and started running through it. Even if he needed time to accept her change, the beast accepted her presence. That was enough for now. He rested a paw in her lap as if saying, you're still my human.
The next morning came slower than usual. Movement had improved a little for the Diviner. It was amazing what a night's rest could do for the body. Having Stonefang near her to help root her had helped loads. The Diviner focused on the distant dunes. The Draveth were still there. She grounded herself and tested if her magic had somewhat recovered.
"Still fuzzy." She muttered under breath. "Looks like I still can't guide us." A sway of her foot trailed a gust of sand. "Geomancy is slowly coming back though."
Stonefang only gave a soft rumble. He had never seen his human deplete her magic resources so much that she could hardly use it. It still showed. She looked tired, her movements were sluggish, like every step she took weighed double as much. Still, pride kept her upright. It also kept her from admitting she needed help.
In the distance, the Draveth noticed her weakness and circled closer. Though as long as the direwolf was with her, they knew they were physically outmatched. After a few more miles of aimless wandering through seemingly endless dunes, frustration got the better of the Diviner and she outed a loud scream. The kind that came from deep inside and carried almost all the way to Tan'Thalon and dragged the names off the entire pantheon of the Gods through the dirt. She ended by stomping her foot down as hard as she could. With all the loose sand there was no risk.
To her surprise she was met with a patch of solid sand. For a short distance she could feel her surroundings again.
"Stonefang?" She uttered with a surprised look.
The wolf only met her look with a gaze that seemed to say "Don't look at me. I didn't do anything."
She wiggled her toes a little. "Hmm, it still feels like sand." A tap of her other foot. "It IS still sand. Just solid." That got her thinking. "What if…"
She tried to focus through her exhausted haze. Stonefang pushed his snout into her back, almost causing her to lose balance. He was met with a comforting hand.
"I know. I won't exert myself too much. Don't worry."
Her stance widened as she slid into her familiar praying mantis style. Her hands formed hooks. The next step she took grounded her. Her eyes now focused. A flicker of something in the distance. She stepped back and lifted one foot, before swinging her arms overhead in a circular motion as she stepped forward again. Solid. Grounded. There.
She turned to Stonefang again. "There's a large ruin a day to the east."
The direwolf lowered himself, almost laying down, as if saying "Hop on then and show me."
-Tan'Thalon, somewhere beneath the city-
Deep beneath the Lower Ring, below even the dead, something listened. The chamber breathed in a quiet, unnatural rhythm. Lazulli sconces lined the walls, casting light that refused to settle. It bent and warped, shaped by illusion magic into something restless. Shadows stretched where they shouldn't, curling and sliding across the stone like living things. Nothing stayed still for long. Not truly. At the center of the room hovered a mapstone, pulsing with a dim blue glow, veins of the city shifting across its surface. Routes, depots, hidden channels—everything laid bare in constant motion. Above it, fragments of the city drifted like ghosts. Streets flickered in and out. Figures moved, then repeated, then broke apart again. Nothing whole. Nothing stable. Selvara stood over it, watching. Her violet eyes glowed faintly beneath her hood, mirroring the light of the projections. One hand rested in the air above the stone, fingers moving slowly, tracing paths only she could see. The illusions responded to her touch, bending and shifting as if they understood her intent. Two figures knelt behind her. Both wore deep red cloaks, their faces hidden in shadow. One was marked by thin scars running across his exposed skin, the kind left behind by magic that didn't always behave. The other was still. Composed. Watching everything, revealing nothing. The room hummed softly. A low, constant sound. Easy to ignore at first. Harder to forget once noticed. As if the chamber itself was listening.
Selvara spoke without turning. "Marrek."
Her voice was quiet. Controlled. But there was tension beneath it.
"Report."
The scarred man lowered his head further. "The Iron Vanguard struck Warehouse Twelve shortly after midnight," he said. "Twenty soldiers." He hesitated, just briefly. "Commander Serenya Kael led them."
That was enough. Selvara's hand stilled. The projections flickered, just for a moment.
"Serenya," she repeated.
The name lingered, not unfamiliar. Not unexpected. A faint smile formed on her lips.
"Of course," she murmured. "They send their iron saint."
Only then did she lift her gaze from the mapstone. Violet light caught in her eyes as the shadows behind her shifted more sharply, almost reacting to the change. Waiting. She said nothing for a while. Just watched the city move beneath her hand. Then her smile deepened. And the hum in the chamber grew louder.
Night settled over the Warehouse Twelve in Tan'Thalon's Lower District, lanterns flickering to life one by one. From a distance, they looked like scattered stars. Most of the city had gone quiet. Most—but not all. A Lazulli storage warehouse stood open. Serenya approached with twenty Iron Vanguard soldiers at her back. Their armor was wrapped in cloth to dull the sound, their movements precise, controlled. The air carried a faint scent of ozone and dust. Wrong, somehow. The doors gave way under force. Inside, crates were stacked in careful rows. Lazulli shards glowed faintly between the gaps, casting a low, uneven light. It was quiet, too quiet.
Serenya didn't raise her voice. "Seal the exits. No fire. Check the crates. Quickly."
The Vanguard moved at once, spreading out with practiced efficiency. No wasted motion. No hesitation. Captain Elira pried open the nearest crate and to no surprise found Lazulli shards inside. Etched on the crate was a closed eye. She barely had time to register it. The lanterns flickered once, and then went dark. The glow didn't vanish. It deepened. The shards pulsed, brighter now, like something waking.
The second figure shifted. It was subtle and measured.
"They seized the outer crates," a female voice cut softly through the chamber, measured as ever. "But did not breach the inner vaults." She paused slightly. "The sigils held. Long enough for Arcanist Vaal to intervene." The name lingered. "He… demonstrated considerable potency."
For a moment, nothing moved. Then Selvara stepped away from the mapstone slowly and deliberately. She circled it, the shifting Lazulli light sliding across her skin, coiling and uncoiling like living serpents drawn to her presence. Each step bent the illusions subtly—veins of the city pulsing brighter where her shadow passed.
"Considerable," she echoed softly.
Not impressed nor surprised. Her fingers trailed through one of the drifting projections. It fractured at her touch, scattering into smaller illusions before reforming again.
"Potency is expected," she continued. "Control is rarer."
A smooth, mocking voice sounded through the warehouse. "Ah… the Iron Vanguard. So predictable. So proud. Steel, shields, discipline. Against inevitability."
A male figure stepped out from the shadows, white robes ripple with Lazulli threads that crackled around him. His blond hair cut short on one side, but the other following the flows of his robes. His hands were already weaving entropy sigils in the air. Sparks of disintegration hissed where the symbols hung. His face was calm, almost bored. Serenya recognized him as an arcanist. A threat. She had seen him before somewhere. When she saw the symbols, she remembered. A wanted poster. She knew the name, Kerryth Vaal. A bounty of over a million for destroying towns and spreading Ba'Ham's word. Instantaneously she realised what he was capable of.
As she drew her blade, her voice turned like iron. "Vanguard! Form wall!".
Shields locked, a shining barrier of sound and discipline. Serenya stood at the front, sword raised.
"You've stolen from the wall. You've bled the city. Surrender and face judgment."
The arcanists' lips turned to a thin smile. "Judgment?" He repeated. "I am judgment. Behold Ba'ham's truth."
"Tell me exactly what Kerryth demonstrated, Sillis" Selvara wanted to know.
"Entropy rites. Fully realized. He reduced shields to rust, blades to dust. Serenya's line broke twice, yet they held on long enough to escape. She herself was injured." Sillis spoke with a smile.
Vaal slammed his palms forward. A wave of entropy rolled out — steel shrieked as shield edges corroded, weapons pitted and crumbled. Soldiers cried out as the very steel in their armor sparked and fractured. The Vanguard line staggered back, but held.
Captain Varros gritted his teeth. "Shields failing, Commander!"
Serenya snarled. "Hold them! Hold—!"
Another blast followed, causing a shield to dissolve in one soldier's grip, leaving him exposed — the entropy wave tore through his cuirass. He screamed and dropped. Serenya stepped forward, slashing at Vaal — but her blade met a shimmer of unraveling force. The steel rusted in her hand, breaking mid-swing.
Vaal mocked them. "See? Even iron bows before entropy. What hope has your wall, your council, your goddess?"
Serenya's captains dragged her back as Vaal lifted a Lazulli shard and twisted it into a crackling orb of raw energy. The warehouse shook, beams splintering. Workers screamed and scattered outside. Serenya tried to rally.
Her voice roared. "Fall back! Shields around the wounded! MOVE!"
The Vanguard retreated in formation, battered but not broken, dragging their fallen. Serenya was last to leave, holding her ruined blade in one fist. Vaal did not pursue — he simply watched, letting them go, confident of his dominance.
Vaal called after her. "Run, little vanguard. Bring more steel. I will unmake it all the same."
Outside, in the rain, the Vanguard regrouped. Armor ruined, morale shaken. Serenya breathed hard, clutching her bleeding side where entropy tore through her breastplate. Her jaw was set, but her eyes were dark with the knowledge: against this magic, steel alone will not hold.
Selvara let out a soft laugh. As though the outcome amused her more than it frustrated.
"A shame he didn't kill her," she said, almost lightly. "But fear will do."
Her gaze drifted back to the mapstone, watching the faint echoes of movement still lingering across its surface.
"The city will whisper of this," she continued. "And the council…" She tilted her head slightly. "…will taste panic."
She reached down, lifting a shard of Lazulli from the edge of the construct. It flared instantly at her touch. Not steady or natural. It pulsed like a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
"And the shipment?" she asked.
Sillis hesitated just enough to notice.
"Partially lost," she admitted. "The Vanguard seized four crates." Her hands tightened slightly beneath her sleeves. "But the experimental shards remain secure. Vaal relocated them once the soldiers withdrew."
Selvara considered that and nodded. "Good."
Her fingers turned the shard slowly, watching its unstable light dance across her skin.
"They have enough to fear," she said. "But not enough to understand."
The shard dimmed as she lowered it. Then she turned sharply.
"Did they see the prototypes?"
Marrek answered this time.
"No," he said. "The reanimated units were not deployed." He paused. "The first trials....".
"Where." It was not so much a question from Selvara, more a command to know.
"Site 457. The architect activated three."
Selvara's expression didn't change but the air did.
"Good. The Architect's plans require patience."
The chamber responded at the mention of that name. A ripple passed through the Lazulli sconces, their light warping, bending inward for a fleeting moment. The hum deepened, as if something unseen acknowledged the invocation. Both lieutenants lowered their heads further. Sillis spoke again, quieter now.
"The Vanguard will report this to the council. Serenya Kael will push for new armaments."
Selvara's smile returned slowly and knowingly.
"And the council," she said, "will finally remember what it feels like to be powerless."
She stepped back, her form slipping partially into shadow as the Lazulli glow bent around her.
"They will look for strength," she continued. "For leadership. For someone willing to act… when they cannot." The shadows curled tighter around her silhouette. "Now, tell me of the nobles."
Marrek straightened slightly—his robes shifting, though the movement felt… too smooth. Too perfect.
"Eldarion speaks loudly," he reported. "And gathers support. Two houses pledged him their votes this morning. A third remains cautious—but listening."
Selvara's smile sharpened. "Of course he does."
She extended a hand over the mapstone, and the illusions shifted. A name flared faintly in Lazulli light. Eldarion. Bound into the web like any other vein.
"He believes he is building his power," Her fingers traced the glowing tether. "But he gathers my chorus." Her voice softened. "My influence. My council." She let the light flicker once more before withdrawing her hand. "He is almost ready."
Sillis glanced up, unease creeping through her composure. "And the desert?" she asked. "Our agents' reports?"
Selvara stilled and with her, the temperature in the chamber seemed to drop. The Lazulli veins in the walls pulsed once. When she spoke again, her voice had changed. Lower and reverent.
"The sands move again," Images flickered faintly across the mapstone—fractured glimpses of distant ruin. "Villages swallowed. Monoliths rising." Her gaze deepened. "The Architect's work spreads." She turned, her cloak whispering across the stone. "Eldarion will want to hear this, He hungers for threats." A faint smile returned. "For battles he can win. For people he can 'save.'" Her laughter followed—soft, almost musical. "And he never sees the hand that guides him to them."
She moved away from the mapstone fully now, the darkness folding around her as though welcoming her back.
"Prepare my salon," she ordered. "Send word to our paladin. He will come." Her tone turned knowing. "Jealous. Bruised. Desperate to matter."
She reached the doorway, stopping just long enough to let the silence settle behind her.
"And when he does—" Her voice dropped to silk and steel. "—we will feed him just enough truth to make him dangerous."
The Lazulli lights dimmed as she stepped into the corridor. The chamber exhaled. Behind her, the lieutenants bowed deeply, unmoving until she was gone. Her face already shaping into the serene smile Eldarion believes.
-The desert: Unknown-
Stonefang was in full galop, crossing dunes and navigating patches of loose sand with relative ease. This was after all the environment he lived in and knew how to navigate. The recovering Diviner on his back dug deep in his fur. She crawled up so that her face almost touched his ears, running a hand over his head.
"Easy boy." She whispered softly, yet commanding "I know I said I wanted to save Foxglove but I don't want you to push yourself so hard."
At that, Stonefang slowed to a light jog. That was when he first noticed the red hue in the distance. The shift in the sky going from the blue of day to an ominous red. He didn't know how to describe it because he was a wolf, but he knew that it meant Sandstorm. A small one judging from the size of it. Unnatural. The Draveth weren't capable of generating enough force with their wings to create something like this. They could barely manage to get enough updrafts to fly, that was why they preferred high perches to glide. Nor did they have the tactical knowledge to create sandstorms. It meant one thing. Draconians. He knew these descendants from the dragons of old meant trouble in the desert, where food was scarce. To them, he and the Diviner looked like grilled pork served on a platter.
The Diviner had noticed it too.
"Don't worry." She said, wearing that reassuring grin. "I can take them."
She was met with a low rumbling coming from deep in Stonefang's throat. His way of saying "No you can't. Not like this."
The Diviner rolled her eyes, then gave a deep sigh. "You start to sound like her, you know." She sighed again. "Talia… Next you know, you'll run off too."
She tried to get him to go towards the sandstorm, but he proved to be just as stubborn as her and didn't move an inch. He knew where she wanted him to go to.
"Stonefang.. I'm sure you can feel it too." The diviner scratched his ear. "There is another remnant there. Where they are."
She climbed up further so that she could bring her face equal to his. He was met with two milky green eyes staring at him, upside down. Even if the act itself was pointless due to her blindness, she wanted to make a point.
"It can't be left to do as it pleases. What if it too sucks people in and takes their hopes and dreams?"
Stonefang let a deep growl escape. Although he wasn't there when it happened, he felt she was missing something. There was a reason why she suddenly acted so brash. He just knew it. If the temples had something to do with it..
"We have to save her. Have to save Foxglove. That Nyxir gave his life so that we could escape and live. I gave him my word."
The giant wolf contemplated this. He knew the Diviner's tricks to get him to do things. In a way it reassured him to see her use her old tricks. It meant there was still some of her old self in there. He took a first, reluctant step. Maybe if they fought together, as they always had before, they'd stand a chance. Though he was worried about two things. The Diviner's magic reserve hadn't been restored yet, and would their teamplay still be as effective with her change? He had quite a complex mind for a non humanoid predator. He knew the Diviner's mind was as hard to move as a wall. No, that wasn't entirely true. He could move a wall. Once she had her mind set on something, there was no moving the Diviner.
They soon found themselves at the edge of the sandstorm. It became clear that this one was artificial as it was nowhere near as fierce as the one she had burned herself out on, trying to shield the patrol. To Stonefang it looked more like a sort of mist, but made of sand. Designed to cloud something from vision more than actually destroy things. They were close enough to make some of their surroundings out and saw that they were just a few yards away from what looked like yet another half buried town. From the looks of scattered bones of dead animals, and possibly humans, around them, the place had been in ruins for quite some time already. The Draveth knew this and followed them up high, riding the thermals of the desert. The Diviner couldn't see them, but she sensed their presence, along with a few Draconians scouring the abandoned buildings. Even though they also had wings, these descendants of the dragons of old were far too heavy to fly or even glide like the Draveth could. A fact that surprised neither Stonefang nor the Diviner. They could both see, through different ways, that even the smallest of them was still at least a full head taller than the largest human they knew. Stonefang lifted his muzzle from the dunes and tasted the air. Heat. Stone. Ash. Beneath it all lingered the scent of scales baked beneath a merciless sun. The draconian walked upright along the edge of the ruins, towering above the scrub and rock. To the wolf's eyes, it seemed less like flesh and more like a piece of the desert itself that had decided to move. Copper-red scales flashed beneath the sunlight like embers hidden beneath cooling ash. Its wings unfurled briefly. They were not the wings of a hunting bird or soaring dragon. Though with the size and build of the draconian it was painfully clear why they couldn't fly. They did serve a purpose. The wings spread wide like dark sails, drinking in the day's heat. The thin membranes glowed faintly amber where sunlight passed through them, and the air around the creature shimmered with heat. Stonefang knew it meant danger. The Draconian walked like a mountain crossing the sands. Each footstep settled with certainty. Its tail swept behind it, heavy and deliberate, leaving grooves in the dunes. Horns curved backward from its skull like polished obsidian blades worn smooth by centuries of wind. The wolf's ears flattened. The Diviner ruffled his fur a little, observing through her own means.
"Everything has a weakness." She whispered to herself. "Even they do. We just need to find it."
-The desert: The western road near Tan'Thalon-
Dune after dune. That was what the party had seen for the last few days. Talia had done her best to keep the morale up, which hadn't been easy since the Diviner's words kept gnawing at the back of her head. Still, she had been assigned as a leader and she took her job seriously. The constant grinding of sand in her armor, and other places where she really didn't want sand to be, had ravaged her mood further. In that regard she thought she couldn't have been the only one. Relief came when the road finally reached the top of yet another dune. On the horizon a scout spotted a familiar sight. Monumental, curved and shimmering with a lazuli blue glow. Like an artificial mountain ridge standing defiant against the neverending sands. Behind it, spires reaching for the sky.
"The arc wall!" He shouted from the top. "Captain. We've made it back!".
Relief hit Talia as she let a sigh escape just a little too loud. The scout quirked a brow. He had never seen his captain in doubt like this. Talia jolted when she felt an armored hand on her shoulder.
"Bad conscience?" A female voice asked.
Talia looked over, feeling another ruch of relief when she saw who it was.
"Captain Laskaris! I.." She scrambled for defence on instinct. "Not at all. I was surprised."
"Relax. I was joking." Captain Laskaris smirked under her helmet. "You did it. Led them home safely."
"It's my duty." There were her walls again. "Just need to get them through that gate."
"Why don't I handle that?" A genuine smile appeared now.
"No. It's my mission to.." Talia objected dutybound.
"Cut the crap Talia." This time her intonation changed to show she clearly outranked her by experience. "They're out of hearing range unless we raise our voices." She straightened her back, making it clear she was also taller than her. "Now. We both know this isn't where you want to be right now."
"It's where I need to be." Talia objected half heartedly.
She knew of course that the Captain was right. Still, hearing the insinuation out loud made her heart jump, temperament rise and flinch at the same time. It earned her a cocked eyebrow from Captain Laskaris.
"You need to be at her side." She took a step closer. "I don't think the men noticed. But something has changed between you two."
"Don't be ridiculous." Talia waved the thought of. "There's nothing between us."
Captain Laskaris only smirked more. "You just confirmed there is. And it's more than just the rivalry going on between you two."
Heat immediately flushed Talia's cheeks, sparking her to throw her walls back up.
"That's not what I said!"
"But it is." Laskaris crossed her arms, confident in her ability to read between the lines.
"She's just obnoxious, and arrogant, and infuriating, and .. "
"And head over heels in love with you, Talia. Anyone can see that." Captain Laskaris removed her helmet, shaking her messy brown hair loose so it draped over her shoulders. "Especially since we found you two again. I don't know what happened in the meantime, nor do I need to know, but she isn't hiding her emotions anymore. That much I do know."
Talia remained silent. Somewhere in the back of her mind she did know already. The Diviner wasn't just crushing on her. And now that Captain Laskaris had laid it all open, it was useless to try and convince herself otherwise.
"But, the soldiers.."
"Didn't I tell you to cut the crap?" Laskaris tucked the eagle adorned helmet under her arm. "I will lead them home." She turned to the east, facing the city illuminating the sky. "Go to her Talia. Talk about this. I know you can be oblivious to these things, but you might really break her heart."
-Tan'Thalon: Iron Vanguard barracks-
After the fiasco in the warehouse, the Iron Vanguard had retreated to their quarters. The injured were counted, as was the damage to their equipment. Varros' armor had taken the brunt of the encounter, though he himself was fortunate enough to have only sustained minor injuries. Serenya sat quietly in a corner, strapping her armor.. well, what was left of it.. of. The encounter had once again made a painful fact clear to her. She was just a human. A human among monsters. Against the might of a magic user even her steel bent.
It was a familiar female voice that came to her.
"Commander?" Elira asked carefully. "I have finished the report."
Serenya looked up looking like she could really use some good news. So Elira decided to lead with that.
"None died." That came a half hearted grin, knowing the rest that followed. "Three heavily injured, seven mildly. Varros says he's uninjured but strained his shoulder. fivehundredandthirtyfive gold worth of repairs to armor, shields and swords."
The commander sighed loud enough for the rest of the squad to hear. Varros nearly flinched. A part of him knew that it was a reaction to him. He'd always been the strong one, the tough one, the shield for others. Deep down inside he knew he was incredibly lucky though, lucky that none of the magic had hit him directly. If it had he'd been far worse off than just a strained shoulder.
Elira used this moment to gently prod her commander for information.
"Commander.. That arcanist. Who was that?" She swallowed. "I've never seen an arcanist disintegrate shields and armor so easily."
Serenya's expression changed as her gaze turned to steel again. She remembered the fight, every detail of it, and closed her fists so hard she could bend steel with her bare hands. Then she answered, carrying that same feeling in her voice.
"Kerryth Vaal.." She grit her teeth. "The Dissolver, as he likes to call himself."
Elira's eyes grew wide. She was one of the few in the Vanguard who was completely up to date on criminal files in Tan'Thalon. And this name.. She had seen it before.
"Vaal the unmaker." Elira whispered.
Serenya turned her gaze to her Captain. "You know him?"
Elira gave a faint nod. "Read about him. He refined entropy manipulation."
"He also reduced Kair'Mogul to ruins. Don't praise his history, Elira." Serenya said sternly, knowing his history all too well herself.
"I wasn't going to. He scares me to bone!" Elira confessed, fiddling with fingers out of nervosity. "But Commander. How are we supposed to defeat someone like that? Someone who can literally make our shield and armor disappear without even touching us?"
"We can't.." Serenya sighed after a long pause. "Not like this. Not with our current weapons."
Silence settled over the room. No one argued. The scrape of whetstones against damaged blades had ceased. Even the soldiers tending wounds found themselves listening. They all knew what she meant. Steel had failed them. Shields had vanished like mist beneath the arcanist's magic. Years of training, discipline, and perfectly drilled formations had meant almost nothing against a man who could simply decide that metal no longer existed.
Varros finally broke the silence. "So what now?"
Serenya did not answer immediately. Her eyes wandered over her battered company. Dented breastplates. Split shields. Bandaged limbs. Men and women who had marched into the warehouse believing themselves to be the strongest military force in Tan'Thalon.
Now they looked like survivors.
"We adapt," she finally said.
"How?"
"I don't know yet."
That answer weighed heavier than any command she had ever given.
-The desert: the ridge-
The sun was already sinking behind the western dunes when Talia reached the ridge where they had split up. She wanted to rest, set up camp, and start a fire. Then she remembered something. The Diviner had abruptly lost her fear. Since they had escaped the temple, she had ran headlong into danger. Talia couldn't rest. Not until she knew the Diviner was safe. She looked around the site, searching for clues. Her gauntlet made for an excellent flashlight with her magic. That was when she found the trail. The steps of a great wolf.
Stonefang. She knew it would take her ages to follow them if he had been running. Good thing Captain Laskaris had an extraordinary insight into things and seemed to have enough influence to arrange a mechanical horse. It was nothing as fancy as her magitech noble mound, but it got the job done.
The rising sun was already colouring the sky in orange hues when she finally noticed a change. At first it was only signs in the sand, though there was no trace of the sandstorm that had been here earlier. A furrow where stone had erupted from beneath the earth. Scorched patches of glassed sand and dark stains half-buried by the wind. Then came the body. A draconian warrior lay sprawled across a shattered outcrop, nearly seven feet of muscle and scale. His chest was impaled by the metal tip of a spear. One clawed hand still gripped the remains of it. The other reached toward the figure lying several paces away.
Talia's heart nearly stopped. She didn't even have time to register that she had never seen other races aside from humans. Even something as strange and large as the dead draconian.
"Diviner."
She ran. The Diviner lay half-buried against a stone ridge, unconscious and motionless. Her tunic had been torn to rags during the fight, little more than shredded cloth remaining across her torso and hips. Cuts covered her arms, shoulders, and legs. Some were shallow while others were not. Dried blood marked her skin. Fresh blood still seeped from a wound along her side. For one terrible moment Talia thought she was dead. She dropped to her knees beside her.
"Calenelda!"
No response. Talia's hands trembled as she searched for a pulse. After a while she found it. Slow and weak, but present. Relief struck so hard it nearly made her dizzy.
"You stubborn idiot..."
The words came out half laugh, half sob. Around them the battlefield told its story. Chunks of stone jutted from the sand like broken teeth. Deep trenches scarred the earth. One section of dune had been flattened entirely, as though caught beneath a falling mountain. The draconian hadn't died easily. Neither had Calenelda. Talia carefully brushed blood-matted hair from the Diviner's face. More cuts marked her brow. Bruises darkened her neck and shoulders.
"What in May'Jahan's name had happened here?" She whispered to herself.
The draconian looked like a veteran warrior. Like a dragon walking on two legs. Calenelda looked like she had fought an army. Yet somehow she had won. That was when Stonefang emerged from behind a nearby ridge. The great wolf limped heavily, one foreleg injured, fur stained with blood and sand. Despite his condition, he immediately moved to Calenelda's side and lowered his head beside hers.
Guarding. Watching. Waiting.
Talia reached out and rested a hand against his neck. "You stayed with her."
The wolf gave a low rumble. Talia looked back to Calenelda. Even unconscious, there was something different about her. The earth around her still responded unconsciously to her presence. Pebbles shifted. Dust swirled in tiny circles. Faint currents of wind moved where no breeze should have existed. Earth. Air. Both answering her. As though the world itself refused to let her go. At first Talia marveled at the phenomenon. Even unconscious Calenelda's magic was always present. It was almost like she didn't have an off switch. She swallowed when a realization hit her. She had read about this phenomenon among elementalists. A double awakening. It was rare for them to survive it. An awakening meant a near death experience. She knew what it encompassed. The air had saved her. It had also set her on a dangerous path. A second awakening meant there could be a third and possibly a full awakening. That thought scared Talia and she didn't know what to do about that.
At that moment Talia found she didn't care. All she cared about was the woman lying before her. Alive. Barely, but alive.
"Come on," she whispered, sliding an arm beneath Calenelda's shoulders. "You've scared me enough for one day."
Stonefang rose beside them as Talia began the long journey back toward Tan'thalon, leaving the dead draconian to the desert and carrying the unconscious Diviner toward home.
Talia had barely managed to lift Calenelda into a more comfortable position when something tugged at her attention. Stonefang wasn't watching the horizon. He wasn't guarding against an approaching threat. The great wolf kept looking back toward the ruins. Again and again. A low, agitated growl rumbled from his chest. Talia followed his gaze. The broken stone structures rose from the dunes like the ribs of some long-dead giant. Wind whistled through shattered archways and collapsed towers. The draconian had come from there. Which meant Calenelda had gone there willingly. Talia frowned.
"No..."
She looked down at the unconscious Diviner. Then she remembered. Foxglove, the Nyxir. The promise that Calenelda had made to the creature that gave his life to save theirs. From what she had gathered from the nameless Nyxir, Foxglove was small, clever, endlessly troublesome—and utterly incapable of surviving alone among the much stronger draconians should they find her. Her stomach dropped.
"You didn't come here hunting him."
Stonefang immediately perked up. The wolf's ears stood straight, followed by another growl. Another glance toward the ruins was the confirmation. Calenelda hadn't been searching for a fight. She'd been trying to save someone. Even now, after nearly getting herself killed, her first concern had probably been Foxglove. Talia pinched the bridge of her nose.
"You impossible woman."
The words carried more affection than frustration. The realization settled heavily upon her. If Foxglove was inside those ruins…
Then there were likely more draconians. Far more. The one lying dead nearby looked like a warrior. Broadshouldered and muscular. Not a scout. Not a wanderer. A warrior guarding something. Which meant the ruins weren't abandoned. They were occupied. Stonefang suddenly stepped closer, his body becoming rigid. The fur along his back rose. He stared toward the distant structures and released a warning growl. Not fear but alertness. Pack behavior.
Talia understood immediately. There are more.
Her pulse quickened. If Calenelda woke up right now, injured or not, she'd try to go back. And if she did—
Talia looked at the blood covering Calenelda's side. At the countless cuts along her arms. At the bruises darkening beneath her skin. Fear struck her harder than anything she'd felt in years. Not fear for herself. Fear of losing her. The realization came suddenly and completely. The thought of returning to Tan'thalon without Calenelda felt unbearable. Her throat tightened.
"No." The word escaped as a whisper.
She brushed trembling fingers against Calenelda's cheek.
"No. You're not dying out here."
Stonefang whined softly. The wind stirred. For a moment everything seemed terribly still. Then Talia felt something. A warmth. Faint. Barely noticeable. At first she thought it came from the setting sun. Then she realized it came from her hands. Golden light flickered weakly between her fingers. She froze. The glow vanished.
Talia stared. "...what?"
The warmth returned. Responding to her panic. To her desperation. To her need. The same way Calenelda's earth answered her. The same way air now bent around her unconscious form. Talia swallowed. Her hands shook. The golden light appeared again, brighter this time. Instinct guided her. She placed both palms gently over the wound in Calenelda's side. For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Then warmth flowed outward. The light spread. Not dramatic. Not powerful. Just enough. The bleeding slowed. The torn flesh began knitting together by fractions. Tiny fractions, but enough. Talia stared in astonishment.
"I..."
She had never done this before. Never even attempted it. Yet somehow it felt familiar. Like finding a forgotten path she had always known existed. Stonefang watched silently. The great wolf's amber eyes fixed upon the growing light. Talia felt tears threatening the corners of her eyes. Not from exhaustion. Relief. Hope. Maybe she couldn't fight draconians. Maybe she couldn't summon earth or command storms. But she could do this. She could help. She could keep Calenelda alive. The golden glow strengthened slightly. Calenelda stirred. Only a little. A faint breath escaping her lips. But it was enough. Talia laughed softly through her tears.
"Good." She leaned forward, forehead touching Calenelda's. "Because we're not done yet."
Stonefang gave a low approving rumble. Talia looked once more toward the distant ruins. Toward Foxglove. Toward whatever waited inside. Toward the draconians.
Fear still lingered. But it no longer ruled her. They would need allies. A plan. Preparation.
And when Calenelda woke, there would be an argument unlike any they had ever had.
But first—
First she would make sure the Diviner survived long enough to hear it.