My breathing is heavy and my body and soul cry out in exhaustion. I open my eyes as if awakening from a nightmare to see that instead of escaping a night terror I was greeting one instead. I sit upon a gory throne composed of a mountain of corpses. The back of my throne is the metal gate of Shoron Gaol, that many of the corpses in Rigor Mortis still reach for but what those lifeless hands found was salvation denied.

Behold the devil upon his throne that will only grow to create his better world.

I tilt my head back resting it on the metal gate. What have I become? I want to blame the spell upon my back for the savage demon I transformed into, but I know that the spell’s design merely liberates the potential already existent within me. The power I gained to save Uzuri, strangled my humanity to birth a monster that should have never been resurrected from the crypts of the past. Some call me a god, others a demon, to me I am a celandil. As I sit upon a throne smaller in comparison to the throne my ancestors made in their subjugation of humanity, I realize that perhaps my grandfather wasn’t mad in wanting our destruction. When gods walk with man, it is the same as man walking with ants. For humanity to thrive, it was necessary for the celandil to be destroyed… I know that now… I know that now… my journey will end the legacy that should have been left to die in history’s forgetful embrace.

“You done sulking,” says Cran who sticks out of a body next to the one I sit upon, “we still have slaves to free, and a prison to collapse.”

I want to cry or at least throw up, but my bodily exhaustion and pain from my soul trying to free itself from its mortal prison drown out these desires. My mind gives into Cran’s directive to enjoy the freedom of submission, and I get up off of my throne, take up Cran in my hand, then turn around and kick the metal door that had served as my back rest just moments ago. The metal gate flings open, and the pile of bodies topples out the gate with me still upon it allowing for some of the corpses to obtain what they wanted in life but in death.

With Cran in my hand I float down to the ground instead of tumbling in the avalanche of decay. The moon hangs high in the sky, and insects chirp into the night. Nuren spins on, and what happened here in Shoron Gaol will never stop Nuren’s dance through the stars. It just doesn’t seem right, but the natural world cares not for the dramas that men enact upon its stage.

Cran and I still have a job to do, so I walk back over the carpet of death and to my dismay I see one more slaver standing on the circular platform surrounding the prisonous pit. The slaver sees me and instead of rushing me or trying to escape through the now open metal door, he slits his own throat with a dagger he pulls from his belt and his body falls into the pit.

This act gives me extreme pause. Without raising a finger, I killed another man. Just being in my presence, he took his own life instead of endure me. I take a look at myself, and I am dyed red in scarlet accountability. Spectral hands claw at my body, and I know more will join them in the future. One day they’ll claim me, but today is still not that day.

“How do you think we should get all the prisoners out of the pit?” I ask Cran looking down at the wooden balconies, some of which being damaged by my ascension and the corpses of slavers that crashed into them.

Cran in response flattens himself to the ground and starts to construct a living staircase made of wood and plant matter. The staircase he constructs is kind of pretty considering that it grows flowers as decoration upon it, which makes the staircase probably the only beautiful decoration in this entire damned place. I walk down the staircase as it slowly forms, and sometimes feed Cran my blood infused with essence to help him recover and continue his rapid growth. Eventually the staircase connects with the cell I had been briefly imprisoned in, and I stop and enter the prison cell to allow Cran to continue his work alone, as right now we aren’t in a hurry. No one is coming.

I enter the prison cell a bloody demon straight out of hell, and my appearance elicits a scream from Choyera. I hear a thud and see that Choyera had passed out just looking at me. I sit at the now long dead fire and take a long breath before saying, “your free, get out of here. You’re safe now, the gate is open, and no one is around to stop you.”

“All of the slavers?” asks Prorem touching me only to pull his hand away to look upon his hand died in sticky crimson.

“What do you think?” I say pushing myself into a corner of the cell to rest my tired body against the cold stone.

The priest raises his hand in the ovoid gesture and begins to pray next to his collapsed friend, unsure whether his newfound freedom is a blessing or a curse. Khub wretches and loses what little he had in his stomach to the stone floor. Prorem on the other hand sits looking at me with concerned eyes, which have a familial warmth within them.

Prorem moves from where he was sitting to join me in my corner, “you saved us. You saved all of us.”

“Not everyone,” I say letting out a heavy sigh, “but sometimes you can’t save everyone. The future is bought in blood, and I shed it hopefully for those that deserve it.”

“Wait do you actually regret what you had to do? You killed those that enslave and kill your people but you feel regret in destroying your enemies?” says Khub who crawls over to kneel close to me, “you didn’t come here to brag about your victory, but lament the cruel but necessary cost…”

“Was it necessary though? Was it truly necessary?” I snap and shake my head, “if I had more time, maybe I could have figured out a better plan, but I have to somehow protect my loved ones by preparing the world…”

I stop myself from speaking. They wouldn’t understand. How could they understand that the hourglass that ever drains away the last moments of all of our lives continues to spill the sands of vitality into our collective oblivion.

“Preparing the world for what?” asks Khub and Prorem together.

“A new beginning, or peace,” I whisper as the fatigue of my body and soul takes their toll and I like Choyera let my consciousness fade.

I awaken to a scuffle as I hear the priest yelling, “we must kill it! It is a demon I say, a demon!”

“Don’t you dare touch our savior,” says Khub, and I open my eyes to see the priest brandishing a knife as he wrestles against both Khub and Prorem as Choyera pleads with the priest to calm himself.

Prorem then says, “Do you really think you’ll be able to kill him. You saw what was up there, and who knows what that living staff would do to protect its master.”

I shake my head and with an annoyed thought my scars open and a small frozen blood spear shoots out of my arm and disarms the priest. All of my cellmates freeze in place as they look upon the scarlet spear lodged in the ceiling of our prison cell as the knife clatters against the stone floor. I more grumble than speak as I say, “didn’t I tell you three to get the hell out of here?”

“Yes, but…” says Choyera trembling as she averts her eyes to not look at me directly.

“The priest saw the price of his liberation and decided to kill our savior,” says Khub punching the priest in the gut to drop him to the ground.

Prorem kicks the ungrateful priest and says, “we couldn’t just let the man who created the means for our safe escape get himself killed now, could we?”

“Also, it’s not like we have places to be right now and…” Prorem continues as he scratches his neck trying to awkwardly hide his embarrassment as he puts together his thoughts.

“We are hopelessly lost!” says Choyera finishing what Prorem started.

Khub nods his head confirming Choyera’s words, “look, you’ve already done a lot for us, and I know that you owe us nothing, but you grew up in this area, so we thought maybe you could show us a safe route to get to Tackenae.”

I chuckle tiredly at the directness of Khub asking me a favor after giving him his freedom at such an immense cost, “that’s funny, because I have no idea where we are as well.”

“Wait how?” asks Choyera in perplexed disbelief. From the expression on her face, it’s clear that she doesn’t believe a word I just said.

I shrug my shoulders as I get up from the corner I napped in and say, “I grew up in what could be described as a giant hole due east of here. This is my first time ever stepping foot out of a tiny valley named Unadeam.”

“So, our savior is just as lost as we are then,” says Prorem who is now sitting upon the priest to keep him from murdering me, “though we hoped for a guide, directions aren’t the only thing we seek. The glirdon aren’t exactly friendly towards humans, so having your protection until we reach the plains of Tackenae would be highly appreciated. Beyond that, we can handle ourselves.”

“We may not look like we have much, but I assure you I can reward you handsomely,” says Choyera and now I’m the one looking at her in disbelief, as each of the people in this prison cell appears to own only the clothes they are currently wearing upon their backs and what they were able to steal during their trip above.

I take a deep breath and weigh abandoning these people against taking them with me. The glirdon hate humans, so bringing these four with me may very well be a larger headache than just returning to the glirdon alone. However, the glirdon owe me for what I’ve done here at Shoron Gaol, and what I will soon do to Shoron Gaol, so maybe I could bring them with me using the trust I gained through sinking Shoron Gaol as leverage. Though, if I offer my help to these people it could mean that other humans may want to join our group, which will make going to the glirdon first an assured impossibility. A small group can be justified, a large group easily could become a misunderstanding and a diplomatic disaster.

Going with the easiest option will probably be for the best, “Just head west and I’ll convince the glirdon to not go after you. Beyond that help, You’re on your…”

“Let me rephrase what I’m offering,” says Choyera standing up tall as she touches her armlet. The small act of touching the golden band appears to give her the courage to face me directly and stare me down in my demonic visage, “I am Choyera first princess of Wakuda and future queen of the Black Alliance.”

Khub rolls his eyes at the delusional claim just put forward, “and I am Khubel the third consul of the Republic of Visgal. If you are going to lie, at least make it believable, as nearly everyone knows that the first princess was disgraced and exiled.”

“I have to agree with Khub there,” says Prorem shaking his head with a pitying look in his eyes as he stares down Choyera, “though, I do find it intriguing you’d choose to identify yourself with the princess that allegedly murdered her father, and was found to be impure before her arranged marriage to an Othen patriarch. A part of me wonders if the second princess was chosen instead of the disgraced princess if truly the Othen Visga war would have ended.”

“My liege, you do not need to take these insults,” says the priest with a surprisingly caring tone of voice that contrasts with how he normally speaks in a pridefully bigoted manner, “we especially do not need the protection of a demon. Your people and the church both believe that you are innocent, you do not need to prove yourself to this riff raff.”

“You’re wrong,” says Choyera bowing her head as if acknowledging and accepting the allegations thrown at her, “if I am to reclaim my throne, I’ll need more than just this pilgrimage to serve as holy providence of my innocence. My sister Pereka plots with Othenel and together they are a powerful union that will see the Black Alliance destroyed. My penance is the only reason that Wakuda still exists. I will need allies, and it pains me to say this, I do not think that captain Zoteteza will be a strong enough champion for me in the future. If I must make a deal with a devil, I would rather pledge myself to one that has proven himself to me than a demon who is a mystery.”

“Again, I’m not a devil, I’m a cel…” I correct Choyera to see the priest hiss at me from underneath Prorem and I hold my tongue from saying the rest of the accursed ‘c’ word that the priest holds so dear.

“I can’t believe you are still spinning your tales. Skath may have grown up in a hole in the mountains, but that doesn’t mean that Prorem and I didn’t,” says Khub looking to Prorem who unlike her is actually weighing the words of Choyera in his mind, “oh come on Prorem back me up on this.”

“Choyera does bear the skin tone of the royal family of the Black Capitol of Wakuda. Her skin is as black as darkness which is rarer than sky metal even amongst the people of Nursil who are darker skinned,” says Prorem biting his cheek as he inquisitively squints at Choyera, “I’ve also heard of pilgrimage’s of penance which are used either to repent or prove one’s innocence being part of the practices of the Church of the One-Eyed Prophet. The worse the crime generally the longer and more impossible the trek. For grave sins like murder, making a journey from Wakuda directly up Vilendura’s spine through teratolion and glirdon territory to then call out to Vilendura’s crown in solemn prayer is generally seen as a sufficient penance. For sins of sexual misconduct of women of high station, generally it is a journey of traveling from the Othtack Ocean to the Nursgal Ocean. I’m very well-traveled and given that the princess was disgraced about half a year ago, I’d say if she traveled carefully through the mountains from Wakuda, she’d have most likely completed her first pilgrimage by now and might be heading to Tackenae as we speak.”

“So, just because Choyera is a black skinned woman in the middle of these mountains is supposed to prove she’s royalty?” says Khub shaking his head taking a step out of the cell in exasperation.

“Well, she is also accompanied by a cardinal of the church of the One-Eyed Prophet as evidenced by the pure white mantel embroidered with the prophet’s eye Chiphuzitso wears. Generally, you see pilgrims in the company of a priest that was paid to tag along on a pilgrimage of penance, and not someone who is basically one step down from being the Chosen Word Bearer of the church,” says Prorem to the amazement of Choyera, Chiphuzitso, and Khub, “right now I’m sitting on a man who is basically one dead guy and a solemn vote away from being the voice of god.”

“If you know who I am, why are you disrespecting me so!” says Chiphuzitso struggling underneath Prorem.

Prorem doesn’t move from where he sits and says, “I’ve never been one for religion, as I believe respect is earned and not demanded or granted by fancy clothes and spouting hog slop in front of winged statues. The gods hide in the clouds, and because they hide and haven’t done much besides create one masterpiece and rest on their laurels, I’m not going to give praise to a slothful bunch of praise junkies just because they demand it. I think now that you know what I think about your god, you can extrapolate what I think about you: a cardinal who after being rescued by a ‘demon’ tried to stab that ‘demon’ in the back.”

“I’m surrounded by infidels,” grumbles Chiphuzitso doing all he can to try to push Prorem off of him, only for Prorem to adjust himself to undo any of Chiphuzitso’s progress to liberate himself.

“Look Khub, I’m not saying that Choyera is the disgraced princess, but that there are a whole lot of coinkydinks that make me think that rocks don’t just stack themselves,” says Prorem elbowing Chiphuzitso to get him to stop struggling and lie still, “then again, I’ve met several a mad man and woman alike wearing flower crowns that claimed to be the god kings and queens of all of Nuren, so when it comes to Choyera either she’ll be an entertaining travel companion, or she is who she says she is. In my educated opinion, either way life’s going to be fun if I travel with her.”

“Fun, yeah, and how is that going to get us safely out of these accursed mountains and back into Tackenae,” scoffs Khub throwing her hand in a dismissive gesture toward Prorem and Choyera, “without Skath, our little group is a Visga tinkerer wearing the armor of her murdered father, a delusional woman who claims to be a princess, but not just any princess a disgraced princess, a toll evading bard, and a priest. This sounds like a set up for a joke, but I’m not laughing.”

“You had me fooled, I thought you were more than just some tinkerer. The armor had me thinking that you were a soldier of some sort,” I say looking Khub up and down as the armor and cape did make him seem to be a decorated member of what I assume is the Visgal military.

“Well, yes and no,” says Khub shrugging his shoulders, “I was put on leave to become an assistant to a diplomat that was attempting to get a Leathfola baron in the south to comply with the terms of his alliance with Visgal. Needless to say, my being here alone; should, give you some idea as to how things went with my assignment.”

“Well, if you are a soldier why can’t you protect them?” I ask trying to get out of adding more responsibilities to my already overflowing chalice of responsibilities.

Khub lets out a frustrated sigh and nods acknowledging that I’m not completely wrong in my question and says, “I’m one soldier, and the mountains are crawling with glirdon patrols and who knows if there aren’t slaver bands that chose to be unaffiliated with Shoron Gaol slave hunting out there still. I got as far as I did in these mountains by sneaking through them alone, but even then, I was captured, and I assume the same could be said for Prorem and those two. Traveling together may bring a tad more safety to our travels, but it’ll also attract more attention which even with a larger group, we won’t be able to protect ourselves as one trained soldier and three civilians does not make an effective squad. Why we are begging you to help us, is because you are an army unto yourself, which means we are assured to be safe in our travels if you are with us.”

“You saw what I did top side,” I say still trying to shake these people, as if I attempt to leave them behind they may try to follow me, “who is to say I won’t just kill you all while you sleep to entertain my demonic urges.”

“Why haven’t you killed us then?” says Khub stretching out his arms that are still chained, “every slave here is in a cell, and helplessly defenseless. You could at this very moment go cell by cell and glut yourself in any way you desire, yet you sit here ordering us to escape to freedom. You killed the slavers and the letting of blood stopped, and that means that hedonistic bloodshed isn’t why you are here. You are adopting the demon to get rid of us, when the reality is you are an avenging angel.”

I was called that once before… hearing Khub call me what my mother called me after crushing the hands of Gehenna and in doing so liberating Esther from the mental prisons that kept her from the family that dearly loved her, disarms me. I look at each of the people that currently share this jail cell with me, going face by face, and I turn away from them. I pound my fist into the stone wall in frustration, and in touching the stone of this tunnel my mind wanders to those that sent me here. Upendo and Mlinzi’s stories fill my mind, and though I am still angry with them, I guess I’m also willing to take a chance on misguided kindness like they did, even if said kindness may not result in anything. Then again, maybe this’ll be some small way to try to bring equilibrium for all the scarlet sins I’ve accrued in my short time here at Shoron Gaol. Who am I kidding, I will never be able to overwhelm my numerous sins with the virtues I achieve in my life as the dark number is too great to overcome and is only growing.

“Fine,” I whisper resting my head against the stone wall, “fine, I will protect you. However, you are traveling with me and not the other way around. This means that if I choose to go east instead of west, we go east no questions asked. If I walk directly into a glirdon camp, we go into the glirdon camp, no questions asked. If I need to do something, then that something takes priority. We clear?”

“Yes sir,” says Khub standing at attention and saluting me awkwardly due to the chains that bind his arms and legs together.

Prorem chuckles to himself looking at Khub and mutters, “not sure how Khub pulled that off, but I’m glad to be traveling with you lad.”

I hear Choyera begin to speak, but I cut her off, turn around to look Choyera in the eyes, and say, “as for you, I will expect you to be true to your word if you truly are who you say you are. My people have suffered due to the decisions made by your religious and political leaders, and as such I’ll expect you to honor my help as a hand of friendship extended between my people and yours. Then again if you aren’t who you say you are, I ask for both you and your priest friend to remember that it was due to the Glirdon high Matron Visala and King Upendo that you obtained your freedom. In short, from this day forth you will never refer to the glirdon, teratolion, dracaquan, or totalion as demons or angels.”

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Choyera opens her mouth as if to speak, but no words escape her lips. She squints at me with her mouth still open in surprised shock and says, “I’m a princess, and if you help restore me, I can give you almost anything you want. Power, I can instate you as an advisor, or a general. Wealth, I can give you gems, gold, property, women, and more. Nearly anything your heart could want I could give it to you, but all you want is…”

“Peace,” I say looking at my blood covered body as I say it, “does it look like I want power, when this is what it gives me? Wealth, I don’t need it as my needs are met by the strength of my soul. However, peace is more valuable than all you have offered, as it is something I grasp at and never seem to be able to reach. People claim to want it but disagree as to what it means. I want the peace I desire, as with it the world of man may be saved. With it, those that I love and cherish that still live may be saved.”

I start to chuckle to myself as I continue to stare at the grotesquery I’ve become, “imagine that. What all of you behold is a demon covered in gore begging for peace, what a horrific thought, but alas rarely is peace achieved in peaceful deliberations but by bloody devils as the hearts of man are always seeking to fulfill the ideals and desires of their better worlds. I on the other hand am not fighting for a better world, but one that will still be permitted to exist.”

“What are you talking about boy?” asks Prorem getting up from the priest to better look at me, as I must be appearing to be a mad man to him, “You speak as a prophet heralding the apocalypse. I’ve heard many a failed doomsday prophecy in my time, but unlike the crackpots I’ve never believed in, you speak not to inspire fear to line your pockets and sleep with your followers’ wives, but as if you really are haunted by a forbidden knowledge.”

“This may sound like heresy to the priest, but Aurhea is coming,” I say looking at Prorem to see how he reacts as he claims to have been born in Othenel, and may know the significance of my words, “When Aurhea arrives, she hopes to bathe this world in human blood in preparation for her children to claim this world as their own.”

Prorem rubs his face and the stubble upon it makes a scratching noise that emphasizes his attempts to process what I just said, “I’ve heard something similar before, and never believed it, but…”

“Aurhea isn’t some divine goddess, but a totalion celandil that is preparing to remold the world into her image,” I explain being spurred on to continue speaking as I observe in Prorem an understanding lacking in the others that we share a cell with, “If human kind is to survive the resurrection of the old gods or witches, wizards, warlocks, what have you, then man must once again fight alongside the teratolion, glirdon, dracaquan, and totalion, and also dissolve the divisions that exist within human kind itself. United we have chance to fight and find peace, divided we will all burn.”

I hear Prorem make an affirming grunt as he nods his head, “you may be the only preacher in this entire world that has reached this sorry soul. Most preachers say the end is coming and to essentially give up on the world to pursue only holy stuff as who cares about today when you have a mansion waiting for you in the sky, and to not worry about those that do you wrong as they’ll be burning in hell in no time at all. You on the other hand, instead of preaching about an Armageddon that destroys everything and everyone, well it sounds like you haven’t exactly given up on humanity and the world like all other preachers and actually sounds like you wish to thwart the apocalypse and spite god by punching her right in her sanctimonious face. Now that sounds both fascinating and like a lot of fun, and though you may not like it, I’ll be following you until the verry end, or until the party stops whichever comes first.”

“Wait, I agreed to guide you to Tackenae, but I haven’t agreed to go much further than that,” I say perplexed by the sudden pledge of loyalty to me.

“Well, sounds like you’ll be traveling this whole world seeking the peace that’ll piss off god,” says Prorem trying to place an arm around my shoulder, only to have the gesture prevented by the chains he wears, “given you’ve never lived beyond a pit in the mountains, you’ll need a guide and I’m your man. I’ve been to the highest peaks of Othenel, the deep forests of Visgal, explored nearly every river of the five fingers of Tackenae, and enjoyed watching the setting sun paint the rolling dunes of Nursil as I sat upon the walls of Janamuswara.”

“I thought you needed a guide to get out of these mountains,” I say raising an eyebrow to question Prorem’s supposed expertise.

“I’m fine navigating these mountains on my own, better than fine actually. I was wanting your help because even I like insurance in my travels, and there is no better insurance than traveling with a man who can literally fight an army single handed,” explains Prorem with a glimmering smile as he points upward to remind me of what I am capable of.

I let out a long-frustrated growling sigh as Prorem is right. Tackenae will only be the beginning for me, as I will need to travel the entire world. Argentum indicated that Tackenae and Nursil stand poised to destroy themselves, and Visgal is currently a shield that prevents Othenel from expanding their holy war to the rest of the world. If I wander ignorantly then events that are currently in motion could see their fatal fruition long before I can do anything about them. I will need a guide whether I like it or not. The dropping sands of time force my decision to comply.

I nod my surrender to Prorem, and he says, “smart lad. You have just made the best decision you could have ever made, as Prorem troubadour and guide extraordinaire will be at your service.”

With an irritated glance to the rest of my newly forming party I ask, “anyone else going to be following me like a pack of starving abandoned puppies?”

“Well, if we can?” says Choyera timidly as I glare at her, “I mean, I need to travel to the Othtack Ocean and then the Nursgal Ocean, and it sounds like you’ll be traveling a little bit of everywhere, so it won’t be like we would be imposing to much by traveling with you.”

“And you?” I say looking at Khub irritated at the idea that I will probably not be able to get rid of Choyera even if I try at this point.

Khub shakes his head and says, “I’ll travel with you as long as you are in Tackenae. I have a score to settle, as the man I seek wasn’t amongst those that you killed.”

I nod my acceptance of Khub’s words, at least he won’t be imposing as much as the others which makes him my current favorite of our misfit band. I don’t know why I wish to check with the priest, but he’s been too quiet, so I ask him specifically, “What say you, you’ve been dreadfully silent, when you were more than happy to run your tongue before.”

“You told me that I wasn’t to speak ill of demons, so I choose silence to honor my liege’s agreement,” says the priest now sitting upright on the floor returning my glare at him with his own.

“Fair enough,” I sneer at the priest who has found a loophole to continue to slander the teratolion, glirdon, dracaquan, and me without directly insulting us.

“The staircase is finished!” whistles Cran as he floats into the prison cell as a staff, a ring of keys dangling from one of his branches.

I grab the ring of keys from Cran and place my finger in the nook his main branches form where a third tinier branch pierces my finger. The third branch sucks on my blood from my finger and through my blood I give Cran some of my essence to help him recuperate from his efforts. As Cran recovers I turn to my traveling party and say, “one more thing. I refuse to let anyone else travel with us. The number of humans within our party is already going to make what is soon to come difficult for me to say the least. Stay in here until I finish freeing all of the slaves, and I’ll collect you when this job is finished.”

I leave the cell without allowing my cellmates to respond or retort to my order and continue the labor that started with sanguinous slaughter. Within some corner of my mind where wisdom cries council, I decide to firstly clean myself off of the gore still clinging to my flesh using soulcraft, and secondly check to see how many human captives there are in comparison to glirdon captives and if humans and glirdon were kept together or separate. Luckily due to organization of merchandise or racism the slaves were organized in accordance with their respective races, and I learn that some teratolion were actually held prisoner amidst the litany of slaves. In taking an inventory, I find it prudent that it’ll be best to free the teratolion and glirdon first, to allow them to get a head start in getting away from Shoron Gaol, and then I’ll free the humans.

The decision to free the glirdon and teratolion first was met with cries of disbelief and hostile cries of betrayal from the captive human slaves. I choose to ignore what I perceive as insults thrown in my direction as I guide glirdon and teratolion out of Shoron Gaol to freedom. Many of the glirdon and teratolion say things to me, but I can’t understand them. I assume they are thanking me, but every time I take a group of freed slaves out of the pit the harrowing scene of my carnage adds a spiritual weight upon my shoulders that only increases with each trip I make in and out of the pit forcing my mind to block any assumed praise from entering my thoughts.

Once I finish the liberation of the glirdon and teratolion, I wait until the initial rays of morning become the bright beams of midday to allow for the freed glirdon and teratolion to disappear into the mountainous horizon. I take the key ring in my hand and review each key that I learned to use in my first round of emancipation. In my struggles to free the glirdon and teratolion slaves I learned which keys go where, as I spent so much time in my first attempts to figure out which keys open cell doors and break locks that I almost gave up on the keys entirely and nearly used soulcraft as my means of unlocking everything in my own way. Turns out there is a single key used to unlock the locks on the chains and the other keys on the ring are assigned to different elevations of cells within the pit. After learning the pattern for how the keys were used everything went smoother, but now I face a new dilemma. The humans weren’t pleased with who I freed first, which may mean that despite being their savior, they may not exactly appreciate my help or want vengeance for who I sided with first.

For my own safety I choose a different tactic in how I handle the human slaves. I toss the ring of keys into the pit, as without them I get rid of a temptation. I then bend the bars or punch open the thick wooden doors to open cell after cell placing several drops of my essence infused blood into each of the locks that hold the chains together that bind each human slave. Using the display of strength as my method of communicating a threat to each human slave, I then guide cells full of human slaves up the stairs, through the mutilated corpses of slavers, and then through the gate where I take them to the hill that Lekhaka had taken me to introduce me to Shoron Gaol.

The shows of force against the prison cells silence most of the once more rambunctious human slaves that took issue with my election to save the glirdon and teratolion slaves first. Though there are a few braver or more intrepid slaves that do initially make confused or irritated comments toward me, what irritation and confusion they have is replaced with fearful respect when they see the price of their freedom. The human slaves look around expecting more people to be accompanying me, but when they are led out of Shoron Gaol and see no one, anyone that once had protests against my methods of rescue were now silent. Trip after trip I repeat my process until each slave is safely deposited on Lekhaka’s hill. Once every slave was freed, I then go and collect my group of new comrades, break their chains, and then take them to a hill in the opposite direction to Lekhaka’s hill.

“Cran, it’s time,” I say sitting upon the hill I had chosen for my group and myself. I snap my fingers and feel several locks break within my soul as a sequence of explosive blasts fill the air with a cacophony of powerful sound. The ground around Shoron Gaol violently explodes upward in plumes of dirt and rock and Shoron Gaol falls into the earth being swallowed by the reservoir that it once hovered over. Who knew I’d sink a castle as the first thing I’d do leaving Unadeam.

I look over to Lekhaka’s hill and I see the human slaves now free of their shackles running in terror away from the sinking castle. That fills me with some confidence that my band of followers won’t unexpectedly grow, and a part of me thinks that the newly freed slaves fear will most likely have them band together which will help keep them safe in the journey that is ahead of them. I then turn to see that most of my own group of friends is fleeing for their lives from the sight and sound of Shoron Gaol’s destruction, which I find amusing. However, one stands beside me staring at the falling castle in utter amazement. Khub watches the walls and dome of Shoron Gaol crumble and fall and doesn’t dare look away from the spectacle.

“How did you do that? Was that magic?” says Khub staring at what once was an impenetrable bastion of a mythologized age succumb to the will of ironically another relic of said mythologized age just born in the present and molded by literal memories given voice from the past.

“Well yes and no. We made the chemicals and detonated them with soulcraft, I mean magic, but everything else was just exploitation of natural law and science. What occurred is a chemical reaction, basically the same as lighting a fire but instead of sticks we used an isolated mixture of different things that produce a lot of gas and is far more energetic than lighting a fire fed by wood,” I say chuckling to myself as I sounded like my grandfather there for a second, “though, knowing Cran and seeing how large those explosions were, I’d guess that he’s stumbled upon some other chemical that reacts far stronger than the fireworks I’m used to or he went out of his way to load that entire prison with a ton of black powder.”

“You’d be right and wrong all at the same time, as what occurred wasn’t a conflagrating combustion reaction but you are right in that I have been experimenting with new chemical compounds in my free time,” says Cran excitedly as he shakes in my hand, “I’ve been experimenting with a chemical composed of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen that with a bit of energetic persuasion decomposes into several gaseous components and violently gives off a lot of energy.”

“Well, there you have it a decomposition reaction,” I say shrugging my shoulders fully knowing that what Cran and I were talking about would sound like magical gibberish to Khub.

Khub now staring into the vast hole Cran and I created then asks, “so science did that, not magic.”

“Yeah, the explosions were all science. We may have used magic to get the stuff we needed to make the explosions occur, but that’s as far as magic was used to make the explosions. It was natural principles and having the right ingredients that generated those explosions, not magic,” I explain again knowing that what I’m saying is probably incoherent nonsense to Khub.

“So, you used alchemy to make that happen?” asks Khub still entranced by what she just witnessed.

Cran shakes in my hand and says, “not alchemy, chemistry. Alchemy implies magic.”

“So, could I learn how to make those explosions?” asks Khub pointing toward where Shoron Gaol once was.

“I guess,” I say in response, “if you were asking me about magic, that’d be a hard no. Magic as far as I know is hereditary, but science is something taught and in the mind and all around us, so yeah you could become a chemist if you so desire.”

“Could you teach me?” asks Khub now squatting down and picking up a stick as she begins to doodle the explosion she saw, then she draws to lines around the explosion and Shoron Goal above the explosion and lines.

I look at Cran and then the hole that we just created and say, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“The compound I used requires quite a bit of energy to get the reaction started, so you don’t have to worry that I’ll be teaching Khub how to sink castles like children tossing rocks at bark boats,” says Cran breaking free from my grasp, “what harm would teaching her about black powder bring to the world. Fireworks come from black powder, and they are beautiful. In addition, black powder is nearly a thousand times less destructive than what I used to sink Shoron Gaol. Not to mention that in teaching science to a willing pupil we could start bringing a world that shunned science as witchcraft back into accepting it. We may be able to one day bring medicines long forgotten back from the abyss of the forgotten! Sulfa-drugs, penicillin, and much more could return.”

“That’s the problem, misunderstood science could be mistaken as witchcraft and Khub isn’t a celandil, sorry warlock, so unlike me he’s just a human. Science can look a whole lot like magic to the uneducated, and I don’t want to get Khub burned at the stake for witchcraft like my grandmother was,” I say trying to rationalize with a stick the dangers of teaching things that can be easily misinterpreted in an ignorant world.

“That was a thousand years ago,” whistles Cran trying to downplay my argument, “who is to say things haven’t changed.”

“The priest tried to kill me this morning because he thinks I’m a demon,” I say pointing to the still fleeing Choyera and Chiphuzitso, “I’d say with some level of confidence that humanity hasn’t progressed that far in some of their beliefs.”

“How about basic science, all explanation, no practical?” insists Cran and now even Khub is getting in on the conversation as he opens his eyes wide as if to plead with me to relent with just his expressions.

“Why?” I ask relenting to both of them slightly but still wanting to hold my position of teaching Khub ancient science being a bad idea.

“Well, you may be on a suicidal journey to preserve your loved ones by saving humanity at the expense of yourself, but I’m not,” says Cran speaking some of my internal thoughts aloud to provide Khub and himself potentially with ammo custom crafted to hurt me, “Khub has expressed an interest in what we’ve learned from your grandfather. What we’ve learned, only I have continued to study and build upon the foundations that your grandfather gave us. You may have mixed feelings about the gifts you have been given from the past, but that doesn’t mean they are all curses. I wish to teach and pass the good into the future, as not all evil lies in our roots. One day rot will take me, and only the seeds I spread will speak to my existence, as I speak the existence of my mother, the queen of the mountain. Though I’m also unlike my mother, I wish for the seeds of my knowledge to take root and grow as no other tree can claim that they think and dream like I do and thus more than spreading my literal physical seeds will satisfy my mortal ambitions.”

I look away from Cran irritated at the truth he spoke aloud that I wished concealed in only my heart, and I fully relent, “fine, teach away, but if Khub ends up burned at the stake it’ll be your fault not mine.”

A swooping noise interrupts the boiling conversation that my companions and I were having, and I see Mahana drop from the sky and land right next to Khub, Cran and I.

“By my mother’s left tit,” gasps Mahana staring out into the now vacant valley, “it’s not even been a day and it’s gone.”

“The slave trade lies in that grave, and now I wish to collect what is owed,” I growl at Mahana realizing that with Shoron Gaol and the slavers that once flocked to it for protection sleeping in a watery grave the terms of Ashe’s freedom have been completed.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” says Mahana excitedly pacing in front of Khub, Cran, and I.

“That glirdon speaks Othenese,” whispers Khub in surprise.

“I also speak the Tackian, Nursic, Black Tongue, and Visg dialects. Humans always seem so surprised when one of the demon or beastly races speaks their various tongues not realizing that they are all predicated on the manipulation of one base language. This may be insulting for a Visga to hear, but the Othenese tongue is just your language without all the unnecessary fluff,” says Mahana with a frustrated frown as she stares down a glaring and insulted Khub.

I have more pressing matters to address than Khub’s slighted pride, so I walk over to Mahana and grab her wrist to get her to focus on me and say, “Is Ashe safe?”

“Why wouldn’t she be,” says Mahana returning her attention to the void that is now Shoron Gaol. The frustration Mahana had for Khub is replaced by a clear look of relief and an elegant smile crosses Mahana’s face as she internally celebrates, “in fact, she might have garnered the affection of a feather licker back at Claw Wing.”

“Wait, what?” I say trying to make sense of what Mahana just said, “so she is safe and not imprisoned as a hostage. She’s walking around freely, safe, sound, and apparently wooing.”

“Yes, Visala is a big softy once you’ve proven your character to her,” says Mahana pulling a fan from the feathered poncho she wears. The fan is made of feathers of colors of great diversity that it makes the fan a gaudy spectacle to look at, “she’s all about showing off, being all intimidating, and looking all high and mighty when you first get to know her, but once you weasel your way into her good graces there’s no escaping. All she wanted to know was what type of person you were, and when you immediately went to protect Ashe, oh, that made her weak in the knees. When you stood your ground even against her armies, that nearly made her swoon, and then your loyalty to your friends and adoptive family even after a betrayal and then you accepted what we thought was an impossible task made her nearly claim you as hers. However, no one expected you to actually take off with Lekhaka and fly off into the distance, that surprised everyone and before we could tell you both to come back well you were already well on your way to Shoron Gaol.”

“I… uhhh... I didn’t have to destroy Shoron Gaol,” I say looking over to the pit now filled with hundreds of deaths created by a misunderstanding. I fall to my knees and the clenching feeling of spectral hands clasp me as I stare at my latest malevolent mistake. Did I engage in another needless loss of life?

“No,” says Mahana laughing at the shock in my face, “in fact, when the village settled down after the big wooden bird flew off with you on it, I was sent after you to collect you, but you basically disappeared before I could find you and tell you that everything you just went through was just an elaborate test from a woman that thinks with her muscles and dramatic heart more than her head.”

“I killed so many,” I say my eyes staring at, yet another pit cursed to call for the reclamation of my soul. I start to hyperventilate as much like my panic attack at Martog’s maw I begin to see ghostly zombies start to crawl out of the pit of Shoron Gaol as a smiling skeletal goddess flies above crying out for my soul.

Mahana ignoring my emotional plight says, “you single handedly wiped out so much of the scum of Tackenae in a single night that you will be a legendary hero for the glirdon from this day forth. Finally, my people can rest in peace knowing that the thieves, pillagers, murderers, slavers, and rapists that existed in our nightmares and our reality no longer have a place to protect them in our mountains and the place of dread and suffering we feared more than the eternal silence of the scorned is now a tomb for our oppressors. I’ve spent years dreaming of this day, but today isn’t a dream and a day that will be sung of by glirdon forever on Nuren and within the whispered songs of the winds.”

I clench my fists and turn my face toward my knees focusing on Mahana’s words to turn my mind away from the haunting specters of sin. I do all I can to shove the dissenting words of Choyera from my mind, as the discord they bring to my caged and shattered heart will only cripple me. This wasn’t a repeat of my past. The men I killed weren’t like the misled Gehennan whose crimes and fates were foisted upon them by a minority of their kin. Who I killed, were as Mahana said people like Gehenna himself who would have gone forth to enslave, murder, rape, and glut themselves upon the suffering of those they other. These deaths were not a needless loss of life… they were necessary. I do not want to justify my actions, but in the end what else do I have to continue forward.

I take a deep breath and rise to my feet as I force myself to take in the victorious new dawn for the glirdon of Vilendura’s Spine. In the end what I’ve done was necessary for a better future for everyone, and if I had to be a monster, then at least I was the monster who fought for the oppressed. I try to force myself to be confident and I fake a chuckle as I say, “well, there may have been a miscommunication, but in the end everything worked itself out. Though, I find something odd with what you told me. Lekhaka was very insistent on me destroying Shoron Gaol, by any chance was she not told about the actual plan behind Visala’s elaborate performance.”

“No, she knew perfectly well that it was all an act to test you. You were never meant to go to Shoron Gaol in the first place. All Visala wanted to see was if you were genuinely willing to help us with the impossible, like you helped Upendo with his impossible desire,” says Mahana closing her fan, touching the tip of the fan to her lips as she raises an eyebrow, “what did Lekhaka say to you.”

“She brought me here, introduced herself, and then told me go bye Shoron Gaol, over and over again and slammed her fist in her hand to emphasize what was desired,” I say making the same gestures that Lekhaka did to show Mahana what I heard and saw, “she also said a lot about me you, you me, and food. I believe you were talked about as well as you talky yes yes.”

Mahana reopens her fan and stares up into the sky in deep thought and then closes her fan once more, “Upendo also knew of Visala’s plans, but intervened at the last moment in a way none of us expected. Hawa, Shwala, and Visala both told Upendo not to bring Ashe with your group, as the Claw Wing Peak’s location being known to a human would be a liability. Though Upendo ignored this direct request of the high court of Claw Wing Peak and glirdon highest court, Visala didn’t care too much as she saw opportunity to adjust her little test of character by improvising with using Ashe to draw out more of the true Skath for her to observe so to speak. Then when it came time for you to accept our task, and for Visala to see that you’d genuinely help the glirdon like you helped Upendo, then Upendo intervened again and tossed the girl to us, and then offered himself, Mlinzi, and his kingdom as leverage while invoking our highest law, the law of reciprocity. Visala thought he was just being a good performer, but now that I see that Shoron Gaol is no more, I’m worried that Visala and I both have misjudged Upendo, and now I find myself asking… what is he planning?”