“I feel there is much I don’t understand,” the elf had gone from uncomfortable to actively ready to bolt, even though he was standing right next to the door. Holan had switched from Caliphate-common to Bellemian.

“I get where you’re coming from, but I don’t really know how to explain it myself,” Liam tapped his own temple, taking a moment to change to the other language. “I happen to know things, and apparently, this whole ship might be in big trouble. I’d like to share what I can; this monster might prove the wrong kind of foe for the Barb.”

Holan’s face was unreadable; the man glanced at the door and then back at him, gaze briefly lingering over the sleeping Noor. “Do you know what sort of entity invaded my dreams to wake me up that night?”

“Depends on who you ask. By standard nomenclature, she’s a go-”

“A demon.”

The language was common enough that Liam had learnt a bit of it, but even with his limited vocabulary, he could’ve guessed at the elf’s words. “That’s just a moniker a few groups use, but really a god without a pantheon is no different from other deities,” he shook his head. “The only real distinction is that they don’t have access to the Throne of Triumvirates. It’s like how a normal elf and a mage elf are both elves at the end of the day; one just so happens to hold a lot more power because they have aether.”

The man’s expression darkened. “You’re a heretic.”

Liam had almost proclaimed himself an agnostic but felt he was currently standing at the precipice of something dangerous. The look in Holan’s eyes was of someone doubting between bolting or drawing his weapon. Clearly, he’d shared too much, or maybe he could’ve at least phrased it better.

“I’m not a heretic,” as soon as Liam spoke the words, he wanted to slap himself. He raised both hands in an attempt to defuse the situation. “Do you have any truth detection spells or enchantments on hand? I think that might help clear out the situation more quickly.”

He worshiped none of them, but that was a detail best left tucked away.

The prospect of a truth detection interrogation gave Holan pause, blinking rapidly as he visibly shuddered. For a fraction of a second, the man appeared lost, as if he’d just snapped back.

“You… ok?” Liam leaned closer.

“No, yes, I-” Holan glanced at Noor, frowning before quickly turning back towards Liam. “I… do have access to truth detection. But not here, and… this best involve the captain.”

“I’m all up for that, sure,” Liam wondered what was going on with Holan.

The Holan he knew of, the “Hero of Cracked Bay,” was a rugged and strongly self-assured mage. An elf of few words and big actions, with little concern for where someone came from or who they worshiped so long as they helped. Notably, in a not too distant future, the man would save several “cults” that held tributes for a fallen God of Wisdom.

What had happened? Why was he this way? Or maybe the right question was what was meant to happen that would change him? Following the first-mate out of the room and down the long corridors of the Barb, Liam watched the elf. He’d need to be careful with what he said, but what angle to play?

They moved on to the lower areas of the ship, though where exactly they were was hard to determine. “Here.” Holan opened up a room, one lined with large wooden boxes, a storage area of some sort? He could faintly hear the sound of wind.

“Uh…” Liam stared at the open door. “I don’t think the captain is in there.”

“She’s not, this is a situation in need of discretion, and this would guarantee some privacy,” he answered with mild nervousness.

Liam stared at the door, then at the first-mate. Alarms were starting to go off. “I’ll wait out here until she… oh, there she is.”

The elf startled, looking down the opposite direction of the corridor.

Liam broke into a full sprint, with Holan quickly giving chase. The narrow corridor gave the human an advantage, while the elf’s broader frame made it easy for him to bump into the walls. The wood on either side gave way to another corridor, and Liam took the first left, trying to figure out his way back to… anywhere familiar.

He really should’ve paid more attention to the route they took rather than losing himself in thought so much.

“STOP!” Holan roared, a mix of panic and anger at their growing distance.

Up, Liam had to go up. The closer to the upper decks, the closer to known territory. So why were the only stairs going down? He swore but pressed on, jumping down three steps at a time. It was not a risk Holan was willing to take, the first-mate slowing to descend without the risk of tripping himself up.

Two flights of stairs, and Liam spotted a dead end further down, so he took to the first area he found. With a crashing sound, he stepped into a dining area of sorts, packed to the gills with other crew.

“Oh, hello,” Liam greeted in English, slowing just enough to get into a very enthusiastic power-walk towards the opposite side of the room. He did a friendly wave, hoping-

“GET HIM!” Holan roared from the entrance.

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Nope, nope, this crowd would not help. Liam scrambled to a full sprint again.

A foot found its way into his path, and the human slammed into the floor hard. Half a second later, there were several limbs, hands, and claws keeping him pinned.

“The monster of Nuremo is called the Destroyer of Mountains! It can control gravity!” Liam screamed out in Caliphate common. “If you fight it with the Barb, you’ll all die! Warn the captain!”

It was hard to tell what was going on with his face firmly shoved against the floor.

“Muffle, blind, and bring him. We’ve been given a divine task.”

Realization and dawning horror swept over Liam. “He wants you dead! He wants to-” A dirty cloth was stuffed over his mouth, a bag or some other cloth draped over his head. Liam tried to scream out or say something, to little avail; not much, if anything, being intelligible.

A divine task. The word burned in Liam’s mind as he tried to squirm against the many hands holding him. It was impossible to break free. Were they going to kill him? A chill ran down his spine, and everything around him stilled, as if the world had ground to a halt.

“You might have scorned me once, but I do not wish to harm you,” a voice whispered into his ear, soft and ethereal. Divinity. “I merely wish to know what you are, who you are, Liam Carter, if that is truly your name.” His wrists were bound behind him, the rope tight enough to make escape a hassle, if not impossible. “If not for the way fate unravels and twists around you, perhaps you would’ve remained hidden for longer. Had you come here to undo one of my planned assets?”

Thalgrim.

Liam squirmed harder.

“It was my mistake to try to get you into my sanctum; it was a request of submission I will apologize for. You were due respect, and as a fellow weaver, I acknowledge your skill even if I wonder at your methods. Why limit yourself to a mortal vessel?” Something caressed his cheek as though the bag over his head was not there. “It matters not; what matters is whether our goals can align. It would not do for us to quarrel, doing and undoing each other’s work. So, I ask.”

He was dropped somewhere cold and hard; the wood creaked under him, the sound of wind howling underneath. There was something unreasonably unstable about it.

“Do you intend to destroy this world?”

The question startled him. Liam froze in place as he mentally replayed the question, if only to make sure he hadn’t heard wrong. Then he replayed it again; it just didn’t make sense. Destroy the world?

Was that all this was about?

Liam shook his head slowly. No, he had no reason to destroy the world. There were so many things he hadn’t seen, hadn’t witnessed, hadn’t learned, or experienced. What was this crazy goddess on?

Why would anyone want to destroy the world?

“I see,” the tone was saddened. “Then it appears we cannot cooperate as I’d hoped.” With her words came a wistful sigh. “Very well.”

Then there was nothing underneath Liam, and he was falling.

Wind whipped wildly around him, deafeningly loud, the bag over his head gone as he suddenly found himself in free-fall above vast greenery. Around him, several boxes were in free-fall, tumbling down to the ground, spinning wildly just as he was. The faster they fell, the less control there was in the descent, the more everything began to whirl.

The forest or jungle underneath didn’t seem to be approaching, not at first, not from so far up. Liam could see from horizon to horizon, barely curving at the very edge, with flickers of gold in the direction the desert had once been.

Liam fought against his restraints, wildly shifting his arms and wrists, bending them every which way, panicking every inch of the way. The rope dragged itself past his wrists ever so slowly, unwilling to let go of its victim.

And then it seemed to rush up at him far more quickly, time running out.

His hands popped free; Liam rushed to remove the gag, breathing in to call out whatever name came to mind. Someone, anyone that might save him. “Maridah!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

For the briefest instant, he felt as if something hot enveloped his body.

An instant later, the jungle reached him, the leaves preceding the branches within the blink of an eye. Too many things broke on his way down, his head spinning as he felt as if he’d been assaulted by a legion of angry children with pillows, followed by one armed with whips, and then one with sticks. The world was reduced to greenery.

Heavy and hard things smacked him from all angles, up and down no longer making sense as his body flipped and smacked just about everything on the way down.

Until, finally, he splashed into the swamp. The world was a blur of water, every inch of Liam’s body was numb in a way that it would definitely hurt or kill him later. The hotness from earlier returned, pulling him to the surface.

With a gasp of air, he remained still, trying to calm down the buzz of his heartbeat.

“This time your call was a rather rude one.”

The black wolf stood atop the water as if it were solid ground, its obsidian black eyes now replaced with fiery orange embers.

“You led me to a trap,” he wheezed out, coughing, unable to find the strength to move. “You knew her eyes were on the man you contacted.”

“How else was I to make sure you were not one of her agents?” Maridah replied. “You just happened to fatefully miss-teleport into a spot in the desert where, fatefully, the nearest possible option of rescue was one of her pawns?”

Liam groaned.

“Besides, this way you will owe me your life; our dealings can now be made properly.” The Goddess sat down, raising a single paw to touch Liam’s forehead, putting just the slightest pressure to lower his head until the water reached his lips. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I finish the Weaver’s work and leave your corpse to rot here.”

Gritting his teeth, he summoned enough strength to remove the paw. “Fine,” he shook his head. “Fine,” he added purely out of annoyance. “Just… take me to Nuremo’s ruins, I-”

“No,” Maridah shook her head. “Your presence distorts and unravels fate, but it does not make you or yours invisible to the Triumvirate Throne. Even the self-secluded pantheon would take one whiff at my power and pounce at the opportunity to dine upon what little is left of my divinity.” The paw returned to his forehead, nudging him down again. “No, I will not take you anywhere, you will have to move on your own two frail legs.”

He was about to complain, but she pushed deeper, leaving only his nose above the water.

“The fate of the other mortals is not in the Weaver’s hands but their own, you have ripped it from her grasp, and she will not be able to regain it any time soon.” She slowly eased on the pressure again, allowing him to float back up. “Be proud, you have succeeded where many others have failed.”

“Even you?”

His taunt earned him a glare; the wolf shoved him under the water until he began to struggle for air.

“Yes, even I,” Maridah proclaimed with a growl. “Now let us go, you have many things to learn. How not to die appears to be one I will teach you first.”