Since arriving in this world, Christopher Krast had always known that the day he let his curiosity get the better of him would be the day he died. He knew this, yet he still found himself crawling through muck, on a cold winter morning, driven by an urgent need to know. It was pure madness but even sanity had to bow to greater needs.

His need teetered on the edge of desperation, not because of some thrill to seek out forbidden knowledge or hidden secrets. No, he was risking his life for something far more primal. He needed to feel alive again.

His life had been spiraling out of control since the day he was tossed into this world with no rhyme or reason. There were others like him. Each grabbed from worlds unknown and tossed in here with no more reason than he had.

He spent the first few months on autopilot. Going from severe depression to recklessly trying to find a place for himself with barely a pause. By the time he emerged from the hole he’d dug himself in his psyche, he found himself with a gig as a smuggler. The how of it was still lost on him. Looking back on those days felt like watching the world through a drug-fueled haze.

Everything was a blur and he’d come to prefer it that way. It helped him forget the moments his rage fell away and he was forced to confront the cold reality of never seeing his loved ones again. Better the rage than the grief. Yet the two clung to him like loving companions and he was reaching a point of being unable to tell one from the other.

Something had to change. He didn't know what waited at the end of his journey, or if it would help; but he had to try something. He was a drowning man reaching for anything to cling to. Anything would do.

“Raging storms, Chris. What’s taking you so long? I’m freezing my ass off back here,” said a hushed voice behind him.

Chris jerked back with a start and resumed his crawl by reflex. The first rays of sunlight bloomed over the horizon, casting the scene around him in shadow.

“Sorry about that,” Chris said, his voice low and steady as he slipped between a line of crates. “I appreciate you coming along but are you sure about this? We could end up dead if we get caught.”

“You think I care about that?” Zareti said, his voice low and menacing. ”I have nothing waiting for me back there. This is the first time I get to do what I want for a change. I’m not missing out on it just because it might be dangerous.”

Chris shook his head and said nothing for a time. A bitter chill hung in the air, remnants from last night’s downpour which left the entire outpost drenched. His hands were sodden, his clothes heavy with clinging muck, and his bones rattled from cold seeping into his bones.

He no longer cared about such things, noticing them only in passing. In another lifetime, he would have tried to talk the young man out of such a reckless decision. But those days were long gone and the last dregs of his compassion were taken with them. Maybe the man had his own reasons for joining him in this desperate crawl.

“Fine,” Chris said. “But keep your mouth shut and don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” Zareti growled under his breath. “You’re not the only one who wants to know what this Taint is about. If it can make the Azzari faster and stronger, it can do so for me as well. Some fools even say the Tainted can turn into Blightspawn if they want.”

Chris almost slipped and fell at those last words but caught himself in time. This was his first time hearing that one and he felt a chill thinking about it. If it was true, it could prove disastrous for his operations.

“Where did you hear that?” he asked, turning to look at the young man seriously.

Zareti’s outline stood out like a caged bear in the shadowed confines. His broad shoulders and bulging muscles gave him an imposing figure, further emphasized by a shaggy beard. A pair of brown eyes stared back at him defiantly, the gaze of someone used to fighting and never backing down.

Chris paid it no mind. He spent too many nights wondering how such a gaze found its way on such a young man to spare it more than a moment’s thought. It was one mystery he was happy to leave unsolved.

“I heard Nova and his crew talking about it the other day,” Zareti said. “Something about one of Tainted taking to the sky like a bird. I don't believe a word of it, but I wish I could do something like that.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Chris resumed his crawl. Turning left, he moved as softly as he could, going so far as holding his breath on occasion. A line of stacked crates rose around them, creating a maze-like barrier to stave off the worst of the morning chill. He paid them no mind, so intimate with their configuration that he could’ve made the trip blindfolded.

“I don't think they can turn into birds,” Chris said after a few turns. “I mean, they still use wagons to deliver messages. Why go through so much trouble if half of them can turn into birds?”

“You don't know that. Maybe it’s draining to carry extra weight for long distances. Don’t pretend like you know more about the Taint than I do.”

Chris shrugged, conceding the point. If magic was real, and he was starting to suspect it was, then everything was up for question. It was why he was putting everything on the line in the first place.

What better way to reinvent himself than to get his hands on magic? Maybe once he had it, he would have more than rage and grief to look forward to each morning. If not, then at least it would give him a better understanding of what was happening in this world.

He came to a stop when the sound of boots squelching on mud broke through the morning stillness. His body tensed as fear oozed through his bones, turning his muscles stiff and the rest of his body clamp up like a fish. Low murmurs drifted through the air, swallowed by an errant breeze before he could make them out.

The following minutes felt like a lifetime as every fiber in his body urged him to retreat, to run away and abandon this madness. It wasn't until he heard the footsteps trail further away, that he trusted his body not to betray him. He cursed himself for his cowardice and resumed his crawl with more caution.

The murmurs grew louder with each turn until the air was abuzz with conversations. Chris felt a tingle at the back of his neck and a bout of unease assaulted him. It felt like someone was watching him, but that should have been impossible.

He went to great lengths to ensure each crate was stacked at just the right angle to make detection impossible from outside eyes. Shaking the unease away, he continued his crawl but took his time navigating the last stretch. Soon, he arrived at a hovel big enough to fit a single man, but a tight squeeze for two.

“This is it,” Chris whispered, making a gesture that took in the small space. “I wasn't expecting to have company when I thought this up, so you’ll have to bear with me.”

“It’s fine,” Zareti hissed impatiently. “We sleep in the same tent, remember? Move over so I can see already.”

“There’s a crack on the third stack from the bottom. Be careful not to make any sound while you’re at it.”

“Stop worrying so much. Who would even think to look for us behind all these crates.”

Chris said nothing and watched the large man shoulder his way into the hovel, wincing with every scrape he made. The hubbub would drown out anything short of a scream, but the noise felt deafening to his ears. Once Zareti was settled, Chris squeezed in after him and peered through the open crack.

A modest campsite spilled out before him, clustered with an expansive array of pale yellow tents. Dozens of cookfires were set ablaze and men in brown attire were hard at work tending pots and pans for the morning meal. The rest of the camp was a hive of activity as men swarmed up and down muddy pathways, going about their morning duties with the ease of long familiarity.

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They were all tall, dark-skinned men with the lean physique of marathon runners. Most wore a mismatch of thin linen shirts and trousers, seemingly unaffected by the morning chill. He shivered when he saw a line leading to a wooden trough, where men splashed themselves with buckets of cold water before proceeding to bathe in the open air.

A few were already dressed in customary black-green combat suits worn by all warriors. A six-pointed leaf was emblazoned on the chest, and each man was armed with a spear made from rust-tinted wood.

At the center of the camp, between folds of the milling hubbub, a jagged rend in reality took on dimension. It was suspended mid-air, cutting through the space like a slice of daylight in the night. A chaotic aura seemed to radiate from it, lashing out like a raging tide held on a leash. Yet its menace went unnoticed.

Something about the kaleidoscopic colors rippling along its surface drew in the eye until all else faded. They whirled hypnotically, flowing from emerald to amethyst to ruby in a never-ending cascade. The rippling swirls distorted when blood-soaked men stepped out, dragging horse-sized carcasses behind them.

They were tossed into a nearby wagon without ceremony before each man turned to enter the vortex anew. The process was so routine that none of the camp occupants paid it any mind.

Chris tried to stifle his resentment at the sight of that Gate, but it was a close thing. That was how this all started. That Gate picked him and many others from countless worlds and dragged them here. He found it hard to comprehend that kind of power, much less how to reverse it.

In any case, that wasn't why he was here today. This was his first time seeing the Azzari up close, the only natives he’d come across so far. He heard a number of horrific rumors about them. But at that moment, he wouldn't have cared if they were cult hellbent on sacrificing puppies. He’d finally found what he was looking for.

Further west stood a clear field spanning the size of a tennis court. Bare-chested men were sparring rigorously on the premises, tossing each other around like mad men at a carnival. At first glance, they were no different from any other man in camp. However, on closer inspection, their pale green eyes stood out like bonfires among the sea of brown pupils.

Now and then, those eyes would glow emerald, and for a second, and they would move faster than the eye could see. They hit a lot harder too. Chris tried to take in every action as best as he could but it was hard from so far away.

At the center of the sparring grounds stood a man who towered over the rest. His hands were clasped behind his back and he watched the spectacle unfold around him with an air of indifference. Something about the way he stood there, untouched by the turmoil around him, suggested authority.

He looked well into his middle years, but he wore those years with the stoicism of a general. A forest green cloak fluttered behind him, lined with gold-speckled leaves. A figure walked up to him and whispered something in his ear before pointing a finger directly at their location.

Chris felt his breath catch and his heart go still when those pale green eyes turned to him. Time seemed to stop and alarm bells rang in his mind as all the worst-case scenarios came crashing into him. How were they found so fast?

“Huh, would you look at that,” said Zareti, his voice calm and steady. “I guess they found us after all.”

“Remember what I told you,” Chris hissed under his breath. ”Don’t do anything stupid.”

He tried to keep his panic at bay, but it was like trying to smother a raging bonfire. How did they get caught? He spent weeks making sure nothing was out of place. So much so that he hadn’t bothered coming up with countermeasures for this scenario.

Thoughts of scrambling out and fleeing for his life crossed his mind, but he shook them off before they took root. When he peered out again, he saw the General was already halfway to their location and was closing the distance at a brisk walk. Those pale green eyes stayed fixed on them as though they could penetrate the barrier by sheer force of will.

By the time he reached their little fort, the whole camp was paying attention. The general stood meters away from them, hands still clasped behind his back. He stood there as though waiting for something, but there was no way he would give himself up if that's what he thought.

“Well?” the General bellowed, his voice a strong tenor. “Will you come out and talk or must I drag you out myself? I’ll take it as an insult if you waste more of my time.”

“Guess your plan didn't work after all,” Zareti said, seeming unperturbed by the unfolding events. “Do you have any other bright ideas?”

“Give me a second. I’m thinking.”

“It’s too late for that,” said Zareti, shoving the stack of crates and sending them tumbling to the ground, “They caught us fair and square.”

Zareti emerged from the hovel like a leviathan unspooling from the sea. He rose to his feet, squared his shoulders, and began walking up to the general as though he had been waiting for this. Chris stumbled after him, almost tripping over twice because of the mud soaking his clothes.

Activity picked up once more around camp though a few people stayed to watch the confrontation curiously. Chris arrived to find Zareti glaring at the General while the latter looked at him in amusement. That amusement faded and was replaced with a frown.

“What’s this?” the General asked, looking back to the hovel. “Why is it only the two of you? I was expecting to see far more.”

“Why?” Zareti asked in a low voice. “Will killing just the two of us not be enough to satiate your thirst for blood?”

“Kill you!? Why, under Sukanda’s great branches, would I want to kill you, boy?” the General asked, looking more annoyed than angry. “Must I have this same conversation with every one of you, Outlanders? We would never debase ourselves by falling victim to mindless bloodlust.“

“That’s not what the others say,” said Zareti.

“Boy, this outpost is here to do two things and two things only. First, is to secure food and resources for our families back in Naruk,” he said, then pointed at the shimmering Gate. “Second, is to make sure no Blightspawn leave that Gate to spread the Taint to unknowing civilians,” he ran a skeptical eye over both of them and shook his head. “I couldn't care less where you all come from or what you tell yourselves to sleep at night. So far, You’ve made yourselves useful by helping out with the wagons. I can respect that kind of initiative. It’s why I don't interfere with your daily lives and leave you to make your own choices.”

“Own choices!” Chris shouted, unable to help himself. “Do you know what your lack of oversight has caused among the Outlanders? They’ve all devolved into gangs for fear of one another. I’ve been able to deter it so far, but it's only a matter of time before the situation escalates.”

“Ah, so I have you to thank for the increase in production. For that, I promise to put in a good word on your behalf when we’re back in Naruk. As for the matter regarding the Outlanders, I couldn't care less,” the general said bluntly. “So long as the wagons aren’t affected, you’re free to fight among yourselves all you like. I’ll leave this problem for the Sadira to deal with. I’m too old and tired to keep up with all this crap.”

“What’s this ‘Sadira’?”

“You may think of them as a council of elders, though you’d be wrong. They’re just a bunch of louts with too high of an opinion of themselves. You can tell them I said that, I don't care. Now enough talk. Tell me why you’re here and what you were hoping to achieve.”

“Would you believe me if I told you this was all a big misunderstanding?” Zareti asked, a grin splitting his face.

“Boy, if you waste any more of my time you’ll be crawling back with half your limbs missing.”

“Uhm,” Chris started, seeing no point in lying. "We came to see if we can learn more about the Taint.”

“Ah, so that’s what it is. The folly of youth never ceases to amaze me,” said the General, some tension leaving his face at the revelation. “I should have expected as much. I take it you’re here to get a taste of the poisoned water we find ourselves swimming in, huh?”

“Poison?” Chris asked skeptically, looking the General up and down. “You look rather healthy for someone who claims they’re poisoned.”

“So it's said, so it’s said; but not all poisons are meant to kill, boy. Some are more sinister than that. This one, especially, is unlike any I’ve come across in all my years. The Blightfather outdid himself when concocting such a vile curse, I’ll grant him that.”

“Blightfather? What are you talking about, old man?” Zareti said not hiding his frustration. “We’re here for the Taint, not to listen to you ramble on about some fanciful tale.”

“Fanciful tale, is it? If only it were so. Then again, what do I know? You might be onto something, kid. I find I no longer understand this world.”

“Why do you call it a poison?” Chris asked, wanting to stick to the matter at hand.

The General's green eyes flicked back to him and held him with a weighing gaze. Chris didn’t flinch under the scrutiny and looked back at the general steadily. He came prepared to face much more than a stern gaze and was surprised by the lack of aggression directed at them.

“It’s hard to put into words, kid. I feel better than I ever did as a boy— stronger too. Much stronger. When using the Taint, I could outrun the fastest zaltrac in the wild and jump higher than the mightiest kundebra in the Zumayan Hills. Even now, it’s urging me to pick up my spear and run into that Gate and fight Blightspawn until my bones turn wary. What is that if not a curse?”

Chris was floored by the revelation. He had been wondering why the old man kept repeating his old age like a mantra. Now he realized it was probably a way to remind himself when his body told him otherwise.

“That doesn't sound so bad,” Zareti said. “Especially if I’ll be stronger for it.”

“Rot take you, boy, look around. The land no longer bares food like it used to, and the livestock isn't much better. We are left scavenging in those wretched Gates to feed our loved ones, and you think it's not so bad!?” the general shouted, all traces of joviality leaving his face in an instant. “Why do I waste my breath? Go ahead and sell your soul if you are so eager. But do it far away from the Heartlands. Lilikwi knows there are enough Blight Gates out there to choke us all ten times over. That’s it. I’m done with both of you,” he said, then turned to camp. “Siya, escort these two and the wagon back to the square.”

Chris watched the general retreat, mumbling something about ‘boys’ and ‘stupidity’. One of the warriors broke away from camp and gestured to them to follow him to the nearby wagon. Chris did as instructed but his mind was occupied by something else. So, there were more Blight Gates out there. That revelation opened up a slew of new options for him.