The living map Alan had spread across the grassy ground showed eight Pegs blinking in one location, within Hightower Brack.

Lucius hadn’t been able to portal out yet.

Junos, if you can hear me, keep the prince here!

Alan didn’t get a response, also contending with the growing number of Fate seekers piling around him. Some were mourning the loss of their gryphons while others were still in shock of such a vile act committed on Hightower Brack grounds. Then there were the few who knew Alan was the cause of all of this – or his Soul Collector, rather.

Even still, he didn’t have it in him to discard the blade. Durger was alive within it, even if it meant Lucius was too.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat?” Irana leaned close to Alan’s ear with one hand ready to draw her sword.

Elkire pressed his large hand flat on her belly, commanding her back. “We do not deal like the Jaeger savages. Stand down.”

“Years of collective work, Elkire. Years.” She snapped her fingers. “Gone in a flash.”

“Not yet,” Alan said. “Lead me to this wall, and we’ll stop the thief, together.”

“If you’re going anywhere, it’s as our prisoner,” Irana seethed.

“Afraid I’m with chappy ass on this one.” Tenger tilted his head, voice solemn.

“However it must be, so long as you listen to me on the way,” Alan said. “Who can get us to... Castle Sinclair’s high wall?” Alan kept his finger on the coordinate where the Pegs stopped moving.

“Will take days with no gryphons. Besides, Sinclair’s a real dick.” Tenger snapped his tongue.

“I will take you,” a motherly voice came from behind them.

The entire lot stood, including Alan, to see Madam Mar walking up to them with a determined frown.

“Our new friend is right. I have let my protective role devolve into that of a beggar’s. I sit in my tower in wait for opportunities to impress our great watcher. While here and now, a friend is in need on the ground floor.” Mar’s eyes went straight to Elkire’s. She whipped out her dreamcatcher and whooshed it in one half circle. “Through all of the painful essence emitted from the lot of you, one is determined to set the record straight.”

Alan squared his shoulders.

A large grassy platform beneath their feet began to rise from the earth, solidifying into hardened concrete-type mineral.

“Those who are in no shape to fight, step off now.” Madam Mar’s tone became determined.

No one dared move.

“Good. Now let’s pay Sinclair a visit.” Mar thrust her dreamcatcher forward, commanding the platform to take off into the air.

“Lucius Kiar is a prince of Cerrain – trained to take on an army at once. I’ve witnessed it,” Alan wasted no time in explaining what they were in for.

“A prince? That explains how he got into Sinclair’s castle.” Tenger tapped his chin.

“Same Origin?” Alan surmised, to which he received a nod. “Shit.”

“You let me worry about entry,” Madam Mar called from the head of the platform.

They rose over the city walls, where the burnt patch of land once housing the great gryphons shrunk below them. It was a stain on Alan’s reputation, a reminder of the darkness that followed him. After a sigh, he steeled himself to look ahead, to the endless stone pathways slithering toward rival castles, extending for miles into the horizon. They weren’t main cities like the one they just left, but still… how large of a realm was Hightower Brack?

Alan walked to the edge of the platform – the hair prickling on the back of his neck for fear of someone shoving him right off. It was worth the risk, though, because he needed this time alone, and hoped Elkire’s word was absolute among the Legion. Shhs! He drew the Soul Collector and stared at the tongues of black smoke exhaling from it.

“How many times will you play me for a fool, Lucius?” He narrowed his eyes at the blade. Now that he understood to filter his anger through it, he could feel souls sloshing around inside, with one winning over them all.

“Sir Alan.” A stencil of Durger’s features formed like a ghost.

A calm smile stretched across Alan’s face. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you again, friend. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Likewise. You have grown exponentially stronger since I saw you last. How much time has passed?”

“Not much,” Alan admitted.

“Incredible.” He shook his head in awe. “Yet, we still have much work to do. If you can concentrate on identifying souls in this blade, you can eradicate Lucius since it’s now in your claim.”

“How?”

“Brace yourselves!” Madam Mar called from the front, slowing down her platform. “Sinclair does not take kindly to unannounced trespassers.”

Alan cursed under his breath and rose, sheathing the dark blade.

“He’s just around that spire.” Elkire lifted his gaze from the map and pointed past one of the castle’s many towers, but to the group’s dismay, some of the bricks eroded suddenly, crumbling to the floor until bright purple lights blinked to life inside the two holes – a face.

“What the hell is that?” Alan furrowed his brow.

“Purple Saro of the void.” Elkire scowled. “A nasty magic, pushing life through inanimate objects.”

“Madam Mar. You venture past the lines of safety.” The castle then rumbled in a way Alan realized was laughter. “You will find no accolades from Junos here.”

“A traitor to our realm hides within your walls, Sinclair. Have you no allegiance to the great realm we call home?” Mar swung her dreamcatcher – Alan assumed to try and decipher Sinclair’s intent.

Alan could tell this wasn’t going anywhere good, so he focused on primal Green Saro to give him powerful vision in hopes to locate the man behind the giant stone mask.

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“Is that so? I may have felt a tickle somewhere around here.” Sinclair’s bright purple eyes shifted either way, toying with Mar.

“Let us pass, Sinclair. He may be a prince of your Origin World, but he has fallen far from grace.”

“Hmph. Similar words were uttered to me long ago, by a woman you so revere.” More bricks fell as the castle emulated an arced eyebrow. “It seems your prince may be in good company.”

Alan felt tiny lightning bolts within his nerves empower his vision, his hearing. Where was the origin coming from?

“Unfortunately, old friend, time is of the essence,” Mar threatened.

“The laws of lordship are supreme in Hightower Brack, Madam Mar, or has the air gotten so thin in your spire that you’ve forgotten? An attack on my castle would be an act against Junos himself!”

“Keep him talking,” Alan said, closing his eyes, tracing the origin of the voice.

“We only seek the whereabouts of a criminal. There is no intent to takeover,” Mar shouted. “For the good of the realm.”

“I think not,” Sinclair boomed, and therein lied his mistake.

“Got it.” Alan’s eyes burst open. He walked to the front corner of platform and stared hard at a small round tower with a blacked-out window. “He’s in there.”

“Step aside.” Irana grabbed one of her long swords and imbued it with Red Saro. Just as she did, Alan shut his eyes and imbued it with a touch of Orange before she could release it, envisioning the time the Helldraken chomped down on him.

“I did not suffer mortal wounds and a fallen friend for nothing,” she shouted.

Hsshh!

She hurled the blade underhand, sending it like a missile right into the shadow.

The castle’s purple eyes flickered as Irana clenched her fist, slingshotting her blade through the tower roof and flipping right back into her grip.

“Go, Madam!” Irana wiped the blood free. “I will pay for my crimes later.”

“Invaders!” Sinclair yelled as Madam Mar directed the platform around the first tower. Purple plasmatic mitts exploded from the closest tower – attempting to crush them – but Madam Mar willed the platform minerals to build walls around it as she shifted to avoid the attack.

Elkire drew his spear as he pointed over the barricade. “There! On the back curtain wall! Charge it, Madam!”

It was true. Alan saw Lucius with two Doomsayers he recognized back in the fight against Shiva. Was he rallying Strangey Town Stalkers to his side? What’s worse, they were summoning something – an unstable portal that cracked like lightning.

“He’s almost out!” Tenger shouted, unfurling his whip. “Get us to the balcony!”

Fsh! Fsh!

Two purple plasmatic spears shot from the dark tower windows, on a straight course to shatter the platform. Without thinking, Alan hopped over the barricade – holding on to the edge with one hand – and flipped his Vosh coin.

Bwoff!

The plasmatic spears made screeching noises as they disintegrated into the bubble’s airy shield.

“Yes!” Tenger cheered as Alan rewound his bubble and flipped back onto the platform.

A strong hand grabbed Alan by the collar. “Remember your role, prisoner,” Irana said.

Madam Mar shifted hard to descend toward the castle balcony where Lucius stood with an oversized bag of stolen goods. His back was to them as he reached into the small unstable portal to test it.

Elkire stomped one foot on the platform barrier, readying to jump.

“Remember!” Alan cautioned. “He has trained all his life for combat. Orange Saro origin with Black Saro armor. He pulled a white blade off the Merchant of Five Pearls, but I don’t know anything about it.”

“I am a decorated knight of Hightower Brack, and a captain of Fate.” Elkire straightened. “Junos will rally to my side!” He leapt, followed by Tenger and the others.

Alan watched as Elkire’s spear burst with Orange Saro – creating a cone of flame as he shot straight for Lucius.

“This is my fight as much as it is yours.” Alan eyed Irana.

“Yet you will respect our wishes.” She shoved him back and leapt off the platform.

As Elkire neared Lucius – on a straight course to impale him – a purple plasmatic web snapped around the towers edge all the way down to the balcony, like a tent to shield Lucius.

“Huraya!” Elkire spun into a flaming tornado, cutting down the web while suffering its draining sparks.

The others all shifted course away, while Tenger whipped Elkire’s ankle and sprung him out of harm’s way seconds before Lucius’ polearm poked him bloody.

Madam Mar landed the platform on the balcony, dissipating it back to dirt while approaching the giant web.

“You steal our purpose!” Elkire called to Lucius hiding behind Sinclair’s protection.

Lucius turned with his head hunched low, then stalked forward with a polearm six times his height. “Years you Peg-wielders travel through Ojin, pretending to gain progress. I don’t share the faux luxury of time you do. Someone awaits me back home, and I intend to find her.”

“Lucius!” Alan shouted, shrugging off the Fate Chaser holding him.

Lucius’ angry expression softened upon seeing his old friend. “Alan… I truly am sorry. Though I know my apologies are starting to wear thin.” He spun back to his budding portal as burly castle knights leapt from their towers to defend the web.

They landed, kneeling with one hand pressed against the balcony stone floor, absorbing Purple Saro into their armor, which imbued the metal with gifted essence. Pauldrons screeched as purple light syphoned around them, the metal conjoining with skin to distort each knight into a uniquely shaped humanoid.

What the hell is this? People augmented by magic?

Elkire flipped his spear into position. “Return our Fate!” he bellowed, setting his spear aflame as he swung. “Go back to the void hells, exiled scum!”

The knights formed different void weapons on their arms, blocking Elkire’s flurry, but Tenger’s whip snapped too fast to defend. And Irana… she was a beast of her own making.

More knights leapt from towers, but she cleaved them midair, landing on the web and scaling it despite its draining composition.

“You killed my gryphon, lowly prince! Die!” She stretched the web, creating an opening to launch her Red Saro blade into. “Arh!” Suffering the pain of the void, she hurled her blade with all her might.

Crrrsh!

It stabbed right through Lucius.

“Gotcha, prick,” her voice started to lose its fire. And when steam hissed from Lucius’ armor instead of blood, Irana’s grip around the web loosened entirely. “What…”

That wasn’t all. A giant, screeching purple spider with no features and a robed man standing on its head crawled its way forward.

“Oh, Madam Mar. I do hope Junos is watching.” Sinclair smiled – a purple wrap tied tightly around his arm where Irana nicked him. “You roll with nasty folk.” He showcased his wound teeming with Orange Saro. “The mark of a Helldraken.”

Madam Mar turned to Alan. “What are you, lad?”

Alan winked at her. “I’m the God Merchant.” He flipped out Yogi and Gardstrife while drawing the Soul Collector. “Durger, manage my Saro,” he whispered. “We’re going to make this quick.” He raised his gaze to his minions. “Yogi, Strife, stop Sinclair.” He pointed his sword.

Madam drew from the ground, her eyes glowing purple, the shape of a bird forming around her. “You know, Sinclair… my borrowing from other lords is merely a formality.” She posed beside Gardstrife and Yogi. “Now you suffer the consequences of stealing from the realm!”

Alan dashed toward the web, flowing Black Saro into his blade to better balance it. The crash of void beasts was deafening at first, but Alan ignored all of it – eyes only on Lucius.

The twirling flagged spear of Elkire stopped to poke holes between the augmented guards – their screams of multiple voices making it seem like they were harming aliens. Alan flashed Red Saro, ducked under Elkire’s wide swing, flipped over Tenger’s whip, and spun twice at the knight standing between him and the web. The first twirl caught the woman’s axe-arm, while the second clashed so hard, her breastplate tore in two.

Alan didn’t wait for her to fall, he Spartan-kicked her down, following all the way through to use the fallen soldier as a spring to charge the web.

Lucius’ portal grew in circumference and intensity, nearly enough for him to crawl through.

“Go. I can’t afford you as prisoners,” Lucius’ growl carried.

“Rrah!” Alan swung with the remorse of his wasted Earthly potential. The Doomsayers dove through one at a time. Alan only had seconds to stop him. He wouldn’t make it. Even if he threw the Soul Collector right through him, it would mean nothing during his pain suppression duration.

“Lucius!” Alan screamed again as the Fate Chasers leaped through Alan’s opening in the web. All of the weapons launched past him clanged off a monstrous ornately etched shield pulled up from a pool of magma. It dropped just as fast, enough to see Lucius stepping foot in the portal.

“No!” Alan used all of his rage, channeling it into the dark blade in this crucial moment – seeing all the souls within it by face. He syphoned like he was flipping through a deck of cards, stopping on the one that matched the man in front of it – Lucius – and yanked the sword back like he was tugging on Lucius’ heart.

Lucius faltered, holding his chest, stumbling around to face Alan. Still, twenty feet separated them. Maybe more. Just enough to know one more step meant a leap into the portal.

“I don’t need this to find you, Alan.” He released his soul-patch on the blade, making it instantly lighter in Alan’s grip. “All I have to do is follow the whispers.”

“Lucius! No!” Alan reached out, and in a flash, the portal closed with Lucius on the other side of it.