Alan stared at a sky of normal clouds, limbs spread, smiling that he coined another minion. A Mistborn. Something the group thought would be a quick deviation to get back on course toward the pink fog, turned out to be another anomaly with the epic armor of Grey Wolf.

Sectional Ojin Territory Unlocked – Sominyos

Alan ignored the footsteps heading toward him and just tried to enjoy the victory.

“Mind explaining what that was all about?” Neesha placed her hands on her hips.

Gregorian limped over next. “Wherever this fool goes, Ojin sends rare minions to stop him.”

“Stop him? Or challenge him?” Flint arced an eyebrow, standing over him next.

“He will lead us to certain death if we continue to follow,” Gregorian assured.

“Alright, guess no rest after a fight.” Alan sat upright.

“This Merchant will lead us to catharsis.” Lucius leaned over and extended his hand for Alan to grab.

Alan smiled and patted Lucius twice in thanks, then faced Gregorian. “We’re going to have a long road if you don’t drop the disdain. We’re on the same side.” He spread his arms. “Always have been.”

Lucius flipped his Soul Collector blade to be inches from Greg’s face. “I’m not fond of repeating myself.”

Neesha pushed on the blade with both hands. “No need for the drama, ah!” She shook her hands like she touched something hot. “What in the Wyvern’s eye?”

“It is a dark blade, little Stone Chaser.” Flint dropped a snowball in her hands to cool her. “Want my advice? Stay far away from this Stalker.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “He doesn’t invite the Yellow, if you know what I mean.”

She giggled as Lucius spun away.

“Onward, ho!” Flint raised his staff. “We will debate Alan’s great battle prowess on the way. How did he contract with ancient armor of a slain war general? How did he know the key to such a rare minion’s defeat? And most importantly… why does Ojin challenge him directly? Aho! Aha!” He pulled out his map and leapt for joy when the fog around them cleared far into the distance.

“So, this is a sectional?” Alan asked, noticing the mist still shrouded the ocean and his back.

“It is.” Lucius sheathed his weapons. “And there will be more we’ll have to fight if we want the mist cleared for our passage.”

Flint pointed to his map. “I knew we took a wrong turn. Good thing we tangoed with that Mistborn, huh? Would’ve been traveling the wrong way for a day, easy.”

They trekked through the grassy plains, listening to the rhythm of ocean waves crashing against the cliffs beside them. A red-sand mountain peeked in the far distance, which made Alan feel bad for the couple who’d just descended it. He’d be mad too, honestly.

Hours went by. Alan wanted more than anything to reconnect with Neesha, but it was hard to break her from Greg. The connection was stronger than he could’ve imagined. The idea of it left an uneasy feeling in his gut. Such an artificial bond, like an arranged marriage forced by Saro.

Weird. Weird. Weird.

Thankfully, Flint acted as a good wingman without even knowing it.

“Archer of the Yellow Isles. Come have a walk with me, lad. You must tell me how such a dark creature toils with blessed Saro. Aha, I joke. I know you could never touch the blessed part of your magic. Only the elemental. The rage boils deep in you, doesn’t it?” Flint’s open arm could only be ignored so long, before Gregorian finally scoffed and let go of Neesha’s hand.

Alan waited a few minutes – which felt like eternity – and finally slowed his pace to be in lockstep with her.

“You seem disturbed,” Alan said.

“I am all the emotions, if I’m being honest. The Question Stone plagues me heavily.”

“Vidiger did say the Chasers he knew all went mad.”

“It’s because of times like these. That great interlude between two connectors. It can become nightmarish. That’s why a good Chaser must plan, and stick to it, Alan.”

“More guilt.” His frown deepened.

“Well, as a Merchant of Earth once told me – if the shoe fits…”

“I’m not sure you’re using the phrase right.” Alan followed her eyes to Lucius, then lowered his voice. “Why do you keep looking at him?”

“Because I do not—”

“Trust him. I know, stupid question.”

Whack!

Alan held the back of his head. “Hey, what was that for?”

“Cutting me off. What I was going to say was, I do not believe my eyes. A prince, in your company. When you said you had a friend from Cerrain, never did I fathom it could be him.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Alan furrowed his brow, then they both looked away quickly when Lucius turned around.

Alan whistled nonchalantly, trying to play it off until Lucius grumbled and faced forward. When he did, Alan grabbed Neesha’s robes. “What do you mean, prince?”

“In Cerrain, my mother’s royal squall guard was loyal to his father, Dreeus Kiar. A hardened and just king. He declared few wars but fought many.”

“And him?” Alan motioned toward Lucius.

“A talented artist, said to be a machine. He would wake up four hours before dawn, paint one full work, then spar from morning until dinner. Then he would take his lady on the town without guards and eat amongst the people. Because she, herself, was a commoner.”

“Was?” Alan tensed.

Neesha’s lips folded in. “His story is that of tragedy, Alan. I fear him and I were similar – born to practice arts of peace, dragged into the trials of war. Did he tell you how he was slain?”

“He never brings it up,” Alan said. He felt guilty for listening to a history Lucius likely didn’t want him to know, but he couldn’t help it. He was so damn curious.

“Fortunate for you, we have a long hike.”

Alan was all ears.

“The war-elite of the Kiar Empire constructed fortified walls that outlasted any enemy force for decades. By land, spear-wielders and Archers didn’t have the strength to reach the top. By sea, ballistas and war-cannons never made a dent. And by air – the Kiar Archery militant hunted more squalls than they’d need for a thousand winters.” Neesha kept her voice low, creating more distance between them and the group. “My mother was proud to be a part of their elite. Protecting the emperor was everything. But her skillset didn’t extend to an attack from within. That’s right, Alan, when all else failed for generations, there was only one way left for our enemy to turn. The town. The Strader Guild grew clever and sent converted refugees into Kiar at a young age. They grew up taking notes, patiently watching and reporting through messengers the habits of Kiar leadership.”

“How do you know all this?” Alan asked.

“My sister may have despised me, but she loved to talk. So did the others who tried to convince me down a path of war.”

“So, the play was to trap Lucius when he was among commonfolk.”

“Precisely, yes. Men and women he broke bread with nightly, the ones who smiled and praised his family, they turned on him on one warm evening in the sun stone spade. It is said that he valiantly tossed his wife into the arms of the man he trusted most, and commanded him to flee to safety, while he, Lucius, drew the enchanted spear of his father. He flung it in a wide circle to create distance between him and the Strader spies who took up enchanted arms of their own.”

Alan stared at Lucius’ back – the way he constantly skulked with a hunch like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He had no idea.

“They say the sun peeked over the walls for the second time in a day just to witness the fight.” Neesha smiled sadly. “He was beloved, Alan. Trustworthy.”

“He’s a good man,” Alan agreed. “And a good friend.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Yes.” Neesha leaned closer to Alan. “Now he chases a ghost.”

A wave of dread washed over him. Should he call Lucius over to hear this? No. He didn’t have the heart to crush him.

“If she passed from her Cerrain life, shouldn’t she just wind up somewhere in the interconnected realms, with us?”

Neesha didn’t answer right away, pulling her focus to their trek up the red-sand mountain. She labored upward, taking deep strides while considering her words. “It is said she was drawn under by the Strader assassins…”

“Drawn under?” Alan said lowly.

“To a void where souls are locked. It is a careful practice of Cerrain, to ensure a punished soul does not reach the afterlife. There is dark magic in my Origin World, Alan, which I’ve come to understand stems from Black Saro.” She shook her head. “I’m sure their intention was to drag Lucius there too, if he hadn’t put up so much of a fight.”

“What was her name?” Alan asked.

“Luness Breniere Kiar. Spokeswoman of the people. Martyred.”

Alan clenched his fists. The injustice of her Origin World seemed even more chaotic than Earth.

“Everyone in the Kiar Kingdom revered her, Alan. That’s why the day she fell… my entire family wept. The news was and likely still is top secret. Known only by the upper military ranks.”

The mountain seemed that much steeper hearing the fate of Lucius’ wife. His mind raced to understand the depths of what Neesha was saying. “How do you free a trapped soul in Cerrain?”

Neesha shook her head. “I was a simple gardener in my Origin World, remember?”

Alan eyed her. “I don’t buy it.”

“Hm?”

Alan thought back to Strangey Town – being nursed back to life by Sema, and how even the head Healer’s Saro wasn’t as fluid as Neesha’s. “You’re powerful here. And I have a feeling some of that came from home.”

Neesha wrinkled her nose.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Alan asked.

She shook her head, suddenly becoming rather twitchy.

Alan glanced at Gregorian up ahead. “Is it him?”

“No. No. Stop it, Alan.”

“What? Still don’t trust me?”

“It’s not like that. Ah!” She lost her footing, and Alan caught her by the arm before she fell.

Shit.

Gregorian turned and ran toward her, scowling all the way.

“She’s fine, Greg. Back off. I need a minute with her.”

Flint aided by creating a half-moon of ice, stopping Gregorian in his tracks. “Rude! I just asked you a question!”

“Neesha.” Alan grabbed both her arms. “Look at me. Why doesn’t Lucius know about Luness? Surely there are others that would’ve died after her and would have seen their prince running around here.”

“You don’t understand, Alan.”

“What? What don’t I understand?”

“The Straders made a deal with the god scouts. Every assassination, every mercy kill, every death of a military rival has been a recruit for the god, Kor. Those souls awake on the far side of the realms, brokered only with the crimson fog. He builds an army of our past.”

Alan’s eyes widened. “That’s where you expect to reunite with your family.”

“If they weren’t drawn under, yes.” Neesha bowed her head, and Alan let go.

Angry rants grew louder behind Alan, accompanied by Flint’s laughter. His time alone with her was almost up.

“And what about Lucius? Someone has to tell him.”

“Would he believe us if we did?” Neesha asked. “A prince’s wrath is not something I’d like to suffer. But if you must, go ahead. Just remember – if he finds a way home, it would be best for Cerrain. Perhaps he could even curtail Kor’s army.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what the right answer is.”

Chrrssh! The ice exploded in all directions.

“Enough, Wizard!” Gregorian’s eyes pulsed with electricity as he stomped to reclaim Neesha. “And you. I will not let you out of my sight again.” He marched behind Neesha and folded his arms, daring any of them to try and deter him.

Flint winked at Alan, and they all went on their way up the mountain, leaving Alan dumbfounded by all she just revealed to him.

A prince… Lucius?

Lucius was out ahead, far from the group. He glanced back then, giving them all a glare that spoke volumes about whatever was holding them up from continuing on.

The trek became grueling. At each threshold of elevation, different effects took hold. One patch doubled the gravity, making Alan’s muscles tremor during a vertical climb. The pressure became so damning that he felt his skull would soon cave. A migraine made him shut one eye, and just when they couldn’t take it anymore, Flint activated White Saro winds to counteract the weight.

“Almost there, warriors. Fight the pain.” Flint’s staff popped over and over to recast the wind.

“This was much easier going down,” Neesha complained.

The next section was filled with hawk-like beasts that came roaring at the group.

Arrows, spears, and spells made quick work of the sectionals, which might have been the easiest battles in Ojin yet. As a matter of fact, Alan realized the fog in this area was so light grey, it was hardly there.

“Ah, you see why our Archer didn’t protest too much coming back toward the Pink,” Flint said, laboring into the next section of mountain. “The low grey is a breeze. And an easy way to ramp up battle Titles.”

Alan used these foes to practice his craft. Red Saro was his favorite so far, if he was being honest. It allowed him to leap onto the back of a hawk, stab the back of its neck, and flip to the next unscathed. A part of him felt he was going against his pacifist code, but these weren’t people. They were conjuring’s of Ojin with the sole purpose of wiping him from existence.

He would’ve killed the Helldraken dragon and the Shiva the same way if he had the skill.

Flint was right, too. Prompts were popping up all over his mind after each kill. They were stale Titles compared to his big ones, but he collected them all the same:

Battle Climber Merchant

Flying Merchant

Merchant Warrior

First it was five kills per Title, then ten, now he was at a hundred, a number he hoped he’d never achieve. But he knew he would. Analyzing the different affinities of each Title made him realize he had a lot to learn. Sure, his Low Merchant Title was the default for non-minion combat, but now there were so many idiosyncrasies. How was he supposed to know when ‘greater aerial dodges’ would come in handy outside of fighting birds or dragons? Was there a way to change mid-combat? He figured he’d ask when a chrome-pointed beak wasn’t aiming to impale him through the chest.

Cycling between Saro types was getting easier too. Throwing the dagger, reaching into a pool of lava to reclaim it, then swinging a cone of White Saro mist at a flock of six birds made them all crash into the mountain head on – reducing them to bone.

On more than one occasion, Lucius stopped what he was doing to stare in awe. Even Gregorian couldn’t hold back how impressed he was.

“Should we unleash the Mistborn?” Alan asked Durger, out of breath.

“Your Saro limits are rising rapidly, Alan. I say give these crazed birds hell!”

Alan reached for his newest coin, feeling it radiate with unstable energy, to the point it nearly fell out of his grasp. He flipped it out into existence and almost immediately regretted it.

“Lying scum!” The ball of water took shape into the wolf-like creature he battled at the foot of the mountain, then it lunged straight for Alan.

“Alright then!” Alan waved the Mistborn back into a coin, inches before it bit his face off, and shoved the unstable piece back into his bag.

Flint laughed at the sight. “You are no Grey Wolf, Alan. Not yet. What’s interesting, it seems the Mistborn armor clung to your White Saro, evoking mist that wasn’t evil.”

“Yes, so very interesting.” Alan bit his lip as he used Yellow Saro to electrocute the next hawk flying at him. Flint was right… He was no war general. How did he expect to tame such a rough set of living armor so easily? He got lucky with Yogi.

“Sir Alan, your mist gives the armor power beyond its normal means. Perhaps if you summoned the armor without it, it would be forced to adhere to your movements.”

“No, thank you, Durger. I’ve seen enough horror movies to know it would probably eat my face or something.”

Durger laughed nervously at that. “I have never heard of such an event transpiring, but I will not question your instincts here, considering my attempts at necromancy landed me inside a steel blade.”

“Remember the visions, my friend. One day you’ll be free again.” Alan smiled as they finally cleared the endless flocks.

Lucius’ armor exhaled a heap of black smoke. It was nice to see no blood squirting from the seams this time. “Your skills are growing, Alan Right. What took us decades to achieve, will take you months.”

“Don’t fill the coward’s head.” Gregorian dematerialized his bow. “He’ll taper off when he realizes what he truly is.”

Alan refused to take the bait, and instead kept trekking up.

The next section of the mountain was like a wind tunnel. He didn’t mind because the Bubble of Vosh would come in handy here. He wasn’t climbing vertically against gravity – where the reversal of the Bubble would’ve equated to certain death – but rather just walking on a steep incline.

He calculated whether the Bubble would rewind because of Gregorian’s sour personality, and tested his theory that one outlier wouldn’t crush the duration. When he flipped the coin and caught the translucent essence, the Bubble burst backward to cover the row of hikers.

Alan felt like he was carrying the torch this time, noticing that the Bubble shivered around Gregorian in the rear, as if sensing his disdain.

Put on a smile, asshole. Alan peered over his shoulder.

They trekked for another few hours until the next section of calm air. The sun was coming down now, sending waves of yellow plasma that inverted the entire world as it passed. It was a marvel to watch at such great heights – the cliffs below turning black and decrepit, the ocean a vibrant red, before everything reverted back to normal.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” Alan took out an edible essence from his bag.

“Alright, my lovely lady and gents, here is a good a place as any to camp for the night.” Flint presented.

Gregorian boiled at the idea. “What happened to a day lost?”

“Hm, didn’t calculate for the wind, or the gravity bomb, it seems. Best to be safe than speedy, good chap.” Flint plopped down, drew a sandwich from his bag, and let the icicles in his beard feed him.

Lucius stepped in Alan’s way of the odd sight. “I know that dagger of yours likes to coach you, but it seems he forgot what it’s like to have a vessel of his own.” He sat down beside Alan, peeling his armor back now that they were out of harm’s way.

“What do you mean?” Alan asked.

Lucius nodded to the essence in his hand. “If you bloat yourself with Saro, your body will seize. Physical nourishment still matters here, Alan. You don’t want to become a fat magician devoid of endurance. A balanced meal will keep you strong, mind, body, and magic.” He took out a loaf of triangular-shaped bread and broke off a piece to share.

“Neesha told me that we can live on essence forever, if we needed.” Alan gulped down the bread like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“It’s true. But that doesn’t mean we’d live healthy. Every sneeze would activate one of your colors.”

“That’d be a sight.” Alan chuckled, then took another bite. “You seem in better spirits.” He tested the waters, feeling awful about having a nugget of knowledge that could alter the course of Lucius’ entire life.

“I am. I’m starting to believe in Flint’s cause.”

“Oh? Change your mind about going home?” Alan said.

“Not in a billion years. However, I am beginning to believe in you.”

Alan nearly choked.

“We will get to our Origins, Alan Right. This Merchant Hyndole spoke of is the key.”

He would rid the realms of a Prince and a Herald in one fell swoop, Alan thought.

“What if we’re being led along a trail of lies?” Alan asked.

“You underestimate the power of your allies.” Lucius scraped out his dark blade. “We will conquer whatever foe lies in our path. However… Hyndole is not lying.”

“How can you be so sure?” Alan narrowed his eyes.

Lucius’ wrists shimmered orange as he spawned a campfire from his fingertips. He leaned over to Alan, face illuminated. “When we were on rebuild-duty in Strangey Town, I asked one of the trees of Hyndole’s claims. As it turns out, Yineera’s journey is real. She opened a long-portal the likes of which nearly caved in space and time. It worked. I don’t know how, but the Peg was unlocked without a single connecting piece. And the portal was opened.”

“Sounds to me like we’re missing one big piece of the puzzle,” Alan said hesitantly.

“Time will tell, my friend.” Lucius extended a hand to Alan’s shoulder. “But whatever it is, we will find it.”