Leland knew little about the Umbra, only the most basic information drifting among the street rumors. The Umbra, sometimes called the Thieves’ Guild, the Assassins’ Guild, the Shadow Guild, and so on, liked their anonymity. Only those with connections or power had access to their services, often at a cost far higher than elsewhere. They were elites, killers and spies, people who were born where no one was looking and lived where few dared.

And Glenny’s parent’s were two such members. While Carmon never reached the renown and rank his wife did, he was, or rather is, well known. Quite well in fact. The Pale Dog, as his reputation was named, a for-hire mercenary specifically for Palemarrow citizens. It wasn’t until he joined the Inquisitors that the name finally left him.

Yet while Carmon got out, his wife didn’t. She stayed inside, under orders from Aunty P. herself, honing her spy craft while training to become an Inquisitor. Once she finally did leave, the Umbra had solidified her actions in stone, forever labeling her as a true member.

“I didn’t know the Umbra dealt with Harbingers,” Leland forced himself to say once he noticedGlenny was frozen.

The young rogue, either stuck in fear or disbelief, stared at the Harbinger and the rot cascading down around the protective dome. Everywhere he looked emerald met his gaze, a twisting haunt in the same hue that razed his dad a few dozen paces away.

The Harbinger quirked his eye at Leland. “Harbinger? How did you know? Was it the halo? It’s always the halo.”

Both of the boys found the emerald ring singing just above the man’s head. A wafting of green backdraft raised and lowered with his breath, sprinkling out from the halo like cold wind against a mountain’s peak. The particulate enough to poison a buffalo.

“Yes,” Leland said slowly.

He chose his words incredibly carefully, deciding that winning was impossible. But such was long confirmed, the streets of bodies being an ode to certain death. No, Leland knew following the man was a pipe dream at best, but one he was also somewhat responsible for. No one should face a Harbinger alone, especially not Sybil who was still Legacy-less.

Leland chose not to glance behind himself at Sybil and the Lord. Whatever they were doing was their business, and interpreting now was a quick way of burning from the inside out. The power radiating from the Lord was simply too much.

“Well no,” Leland amended, making his tone distant and feeble. It was easy since he only felt fear. “We knew a Harbinger and Witch pairing had their sights set on Sybil and that they were most likely going to act during the Dream Ceremony. W-what did you mean ‘halo?’”

His eyes drifting away from whatever Sybil and the Lord were doing, the Harbinger stared at Leland. “How old are you? You can’t be an Inquisitor, I don’t feel enough power coming from you… Are you someone’s kid? Annie didn’t have two boys, did she?”

“HOW— did you know my mom?” Glenny yelped, the sudden sound coming from his throat causing him to flinch.

The Harbinger sighed. “That’s rather simple. She was the one who ousted me from the Umbra. I was a few years away from my goals at the time, but her actions were a major setback. I would have killed her, but she was quite protected by the Inquisitors. Hard to…” the man leaned to the side, looking around Glenny, “get near.”

Leland traced his line of sight, finding the overpowering glow from the Lord but an outstretched hand from Sybil. He quickly looked away.

“What do you want with Sybil?”

“The girl? My plans have little need for her,” the Harbinger muttered, entranced with the sight unfolding behind the boys.

“From her previous kidnapping, it seems to me like you do.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“The Witch,” Leland concluded. “Was it her that tortured Sybil? Some scars never heal.”

“Philosophic.”

“My mother always told me I had a gifted thought process.”

The Harbinger shifted, walking away from where the boys stood within the dome to an isolated edge. Leland followed.

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“Kid, leave me alone, I’m trying to watch.”

“Tell me what’s happening, I’ll go blind if I look,” Leland said, hoping to get some useful information.

Those hopes were killed with the Harbinger’s silence. Leland suppressed his shaking hands, pressing them into his chest. He looked at Glenny who was staring out of the dome to his witheringdad. The deathly rot-infested veins had doubled, turning Carmon’s skin a musky black.

“Are you going—”

Leland cut himself off, a dry heat scaling his spine. He twisted in agony, his skin burning like walking through a desert shirtless. A low roar escaped his clenched teeth, but he didn’t dare look over his shoulder. Instead he stared into the Harbinger’s eyes, finding the miracle in the man’s irises.

Still bathed in ivory sunlight, the Boneforged Monarch now stood within Sybil. Like a transparent suit of glass, Sybil stood motionless, her muscles cinched and compressed.

“Convergence is a sight to see,” the Harbinger said under his breath.

“Convergence?” Leland forced himself to ask while trying to stand as tall as possible.

The Harbinger did not respond.

“Are you going to kill us?”

For some reason, the man chose to answer. “Yes.”

“Even if I were to tell you that my, Glenny’s, Sybil’s, and Carmon’s death would ruin my plans?”

The man reached his hand out, touching the protective barrier. He pushed, finding it impenetrable. Yet with each passing moment, his powers worked. The weapon he pulled from his chest continued to leak rot and insects.

It was then Leland noticed. High above him, at the apex of the dome, a mangled branch of bone poked through the emerald and masses of bugs. Gnarled and infected, the bone levied warts and pus-filled bubbles to increase its amplitude. It grew outward around the dome, slowly encasing it like an octopus during a feeding.

The Harbinger didn’t mind Leland’s gaping jaw, instead gently knocking on the dome. He held his ear to the magical construct, listening to various dull thuds. He then reeled his hand back, smacking the barrier with force unattainable by a mere mortal. Like a rock dropped into a pond, the protective barrier waned for a moment, snapping back to a dull gray a heartbeat later.

Leland quickly swallowed, saying again, “If you kill us, then you ruin my plans.”

The Harbinger smiled at Leland. “Your plans do not matter to me in the slightest.”

“Then it’s war.”

By then the Harbinger had looked away, retreating back to the comfort of watching a Lord live in the flesh. But as the moment continued on and his slow-beating heart continued to pump, a weak chill circled down his spine. He snapped his eyes to the boy, lowering his chin like a lion waiting to strike.

“What?” the man spit, punctuating the question with the full resolve of his murderous background.

The word was spoken with such malice that Leland subconsciously took a step back. He kept his eyes locked on the man’s, in particular the reflection of Sybil in the man’s irises. That alone was protection enough to end his fearful faltering, that and the Lord-provided barrier between them.

“You heard me,” Leland made himself say.

“Who are you?”

Again the question was said with a wave of eternal disdain, a hatred that far out-aged Leland by millennia. It wasn’t the Harbinger that spoke those words, no it was something far less understanding. Something primal, something dark and long locked away. The Harbinger wasn’t a vessel for the Vile Lord to inhabit and walk around with, but that didn’t stop the Undying Lord from looking through the mortal’s eyes.

For a moment, the man’s irises engulfed the reflection of Sybil and the Boneforged Monarch, becoming something reminiscent of a lone tree. The tree hung in the man’s eyes, an eternal darkness of unfathomable depth wading into his pupils. Leland couldn’t see to the depths, but he sure could feel it. A being, a Lord, one that regarded life as nothing more than something to conquer.

Contagion, rot, ruin, eternal hunger. The being had long been slumbering, but now it stared at Leland.

But even as he stared into the depths, Leland’s mind didn’t focus on the weight crushing his gut. No, he only saw the tree-like irises of the man, not whatever was going on with Sybil. The difference was rather subtle, after all what was the difference between one Lord and another?

Well, it was the answer to that question that made Leland think. It was the answer that made him not fall into the descent into the Undying Lord’s eternal madness. It was the same answer which caused him to continuously glance at Glenny’s petrified form. It was the answer that made him speak over crying in fear. The only answer that would potentially help Carmon, the only answer that would bring father and son back together.

The Harbinger’s eyes no longer reflected Sybil – a friend, a loved one, who needed help. Just like Glenny. Just like Jude before he was portaled away. Just like Lucia when she was swatted out of the sky. Just like Spencer who was missing in action. Just like Roy and Diana who were both defeated by dastardly abilities. Just like Carmon who laid dying just over yonder.

That was the answer, and it pushed Leland’s grimoire open to a certain page. He calmly pressed his palm into the written contract with the Lord of Spirits, finding a euphoria calmly soothing his nerves. Sucking in a deep breath, Leland activated his magic, creating a pillowing of violet mana, lifeforce, and enough intimidation to scare off a stalking lion.

Halo now above his head, he spoke:

“My name is Leland, and I am a Harbinger of the Calamity.”