Issie stood gazing out at the crowd with eyes that burned with religious zeal. She had completed another transformation and appeared every inch the first priest of one of the many gods of Parthanea.

She wore the brown robes of the priory, but unlike the others, who had curiously shaved only the tops of their heads, Issie was completely bald.

"I am but a fellow child of the prior," she said, her voice was quiet but her words easily carried to each dusty corner of the warehouse.

The crowd leaned forward slightly, and Konrad felt himself drawn to her, magnetized by her voice. When he had spoken to Issie on the island of Mir, she had hinted that the power in her words wasn’t a gift of the divine, and now, even after being cut off by the small god Hespian, her words dripped like honey into the ears of the listeners.

"You might ask yourself, why do we follow the Prior? I can only tell you why I follow him. The temples of the gods are hollow and broken institutions, and their champions are little more than pawns sent to claw power. The Fathers' priests will tell you that they protect, but under the guise of protection lies veiled oppression. The Mother's Church promotes a simple, pious life, but every year they ask for more to build their alters of gold. The Brother stands for justice, but who here has received true justice from him?"

There were cries of agreement from the crowd, and despite himself, Konrad found his emotions being swept up. Unlike the others, he could ignore the manipulative power of Issie’s voice, but even so, he found uncomfortable truths in her words.

"Do you know what happens out there in the wilds of the continent?" Issie cried.

"Tell us," the crowd shouted.

"The elves, dwarfs, gnomes, and giants live in terror. Their idols stripped away by the Father and replaced by statues of the Mother. The Prior hears their sorrow."

The cheers were ringing out now in the warehouse, and Konrad was glad that the champion of the Father was outside and not able to hear what Issie was saying.

"How do I know this?" Issie asked.

The crowd's noise dropped. Konrad knew the story, but still moved to the edge of his seat.

"I was once called a champion of the gods. In their name, I robbed, stole, cheated, and tricked. People bowed and scraped to me while I plotted to use them only to advance the power of the gods. Then, when they had enough of me, they cut me off and threw me away."

The silence in the warehouse was absolute, and Konrad's breath was loud in his ears.

"The Prior found me. He gave me a chance to change the world, and he gives you all that same chance. Our movement is broad. From the cities of the dwarves underground in the east, to the hills and valleys surrounding Tajar, to here on the western coasts, the children of the Prior are rising. The black smoke over the temple of the Mother today is a sign of our strength and our intentions. Take up your arms and go forth, spread our messages, light fires to cast a light on the dark lies of the Father, the Mother, and the Brother."

The group cheered, and waved weapons in the air that all had a distinctly civilian theme: billhooks, ancient halberds, and cleavers. One large woman held a rolling pin that looked like a battering ram. They surged out of the warehouse and the large doors were swept open to reveal a solitary figure dressed in black, his sword drawn.

The rousing cheers of revolution died in the throats of the children of the Prior, and panic spread through them like wildfire. They turned as one and tried to stream back into the warehouse, the champion of the Father stalking behind them.

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"What are you doing?" Konrad cried, racing to stand between the champion of the Father and the crowd.

"The ringleaders will be captured and punished."

"But they were just talking, they haven’t done anything wrong."

"She burned down the temple."

Konrad followed the gaze of the champion of the Father and locked eyes with Issie for a split second. Her surprise flickered into hatred and she snarled like a caged animal, trying to fight her way back towards him. The burly bodyguards of the Priory held her back and pushed her towards a small door at the back of the warehouse. Partick was nowhere to be seen, but Konrad thought he caught a glimpse of unruly blond hair in the thick of the press of bodies.

The champion of the Father turned his gaze on Konrad. "If she escapes, it will cost you dearly."

"I know her, she’s been through a lot, perhaps I can talk to her."

"These are the duties of a real champion of the gods; if you cannot stomach it, go back to your small games."

The champion of the Father tried to push past, but Konrad stepped in to block him. His sword flashed into his palm, and shadows crept over his body to complete his ethereal armor.

Konrad's eyes were wide as he stared at the black sword in his hand. "I didn’t mean to do that; it’s new. I haven’t really tested it yet."

The champion's eyes narrowed, and he took a half step back and crouched slightly, raising his own blade. "You can test it now."

The swing of the champion's sword was like a striking viper and Konrad barely managed to deflect it. His own blade was pushed wide and would have decapitated a portly baker standing behind him had the blade not flashed back into shadows before it hit him. Konrad didn’t have time to think about this hidden trick of the blade before the champion advanced again, pivoting and thrusting his sword towards Konrad’s chest.

Issie and her bodyguards were long gone, and the warehouse was emptying fast now, but the champion's attention was fixed on Konrad, and he kicked chairs out of the way as he advanced. "Not bad, young champion, impressive gifts. And you must have found a sword teacher."

Konrad fervently wished Briarstone was with him now. They had only trained for a matter of weeks on board the ship, and when Briarstone instructed Renau to face Konrad, the actor had beaten him without really breaking a sweat.

"Let me show you real power," the champion whispered.

A creeping feeling entered the air around Konrad, and a trickle of pure fear started to worm its way into his body. A gigantic storm cloud blotted out the sun, and rolling thunder shook the ground. The champion of the Father grew taller and more terrible to behold and Konrad knew that this was Father himself, come down to the mortal plane. He was terrible in his anger, and the power of his presence crushed Konrad’s spirit.

"Do you think that you can defeat me child?" The Fathers voice thudded into Konrad's consciousness like falling tombstones.

The fear was viceral, but Konrad realized that he had felt this sensation before, in the temple of Fela at the start of his adventures. Fela had wielded fear like a weapon, and so did the champion of the Father.

"Bless me, Lyran," Konrad whispered.

The form of the Father diminished, the storm dissipated, and Lyran's voice came as a frightened whisper, quiet to his ears. "Konrad, you need to run from this."

Konrad gasped and staggered back several steps, lifting his sword with both hands.

"Impressive," the champion conceded. "Let’s see what else you have."

The champion reached up and unclipped his cloak, and as it fell to the floor, he twisted gracefully. Konrad saw the sword come down in a great arc and gave a sharp whistle as he held his own blade up to deflect the blow.

Spirit and her hounds surged out of the shadows, and the champion of the father dropped back, smiling, his gaze flickering to try to keep all four of his enemies in sight. "I sensed the old god of shadows, but now I feel another one, perhaps a healer. You know they’re not allowed to do that, don’t you? Perhaps I will take you in myself and let the temple of the Father judge you."

"Close, but you missed the third one," Konrad said.

The Cold Bite had been thrashing inside Konrad since the fight began, and he had struggled to hold it back for fear of hurting anyone else. But now that the warehouse was empty, he breathed out a cloud of ice crystals, and five Snow Elves, each eight feet tall, blocked him from the champion's view. Each wore heavy armor and bellowed as they clashed their clubs against their ice-encrusted shields. The champion of the Father was distracted for a split second, and Konrad let the power of the Bite blast through him.

The champion raised his arm to protect himself from the stinging ice as the spirit hounds closed in on him. The line of illusory elven warriors stepped forward as one, and Konrad ran for his life.