There are moments frozen in time, etched forever in memory, defined by a single image, a sound, a smell. These single moments can sometimes encapsulate the entirety of an experience. The radiant expression of elation on a lover’s face at the moment of a marriage proposal. The first startled cry of a newborn. The fragrance of just-opened daffodils heralding the spring.

Enek’Chok understood that this moment—the image of the Godknight, his face battered nearly beyond recognition—would be how he would always remember the campaign to take Brightholme. The months spent in strategic preparation, the same months training his army, the gathering of the beasts and the contraptions and the magic that would be necessary for a successful invasion.

Enek’Chok looked down in silent repose, his emotions swirling as his adrenaline threatened to overload his senses. But already he felt the power he had acquired while in conflict with the Godknight fading. It had been glorious, unlike anything he had ever experienced—or even imagined—before. It was the kind of power he could get used to, he thought fleetingly…

The Godknight laid flat on his back, his swollen shut eyes staring lifelessly at the brightening sky as the remainder of the morning storm drifted away. His face was blue and black from bruising, red with blood.

‘I have done that,’ Enek’Chok thought. ‘I have defeated a god.’

The sounds of his troops’ rapturous cheering began to permeate his ears, slowly taking him out of the moment. A shame, he thought. In some sense, he could stay this way forever.

He looked up to see his troops drawing closer, their eyes wide with admiration—adoration—for him. There were some looks of awe and surprise among them as well, but who could blame them for their doubts?

Tua Aoy, his ever-loyal psychic, was the first to his side. She was smiling and laughing in a way he had rarely seen. She was quite lovely in that moment, he found himself thinking, much to his surprise. Joy was an emotion that suited the normally stoic woman.

“You did it,” she said, her hushed voice rich with astonishment. “You actually did it.”

“You doubted me, woman?” he asked sternly. Her eyes snapped up to meet him, her skin flush with embarrassment.

“Master, I—”

Enek’Chok smiled wryly and winked at her. Tua exhaled sharply in relief, then punched him playfully in the arm. Enek’Chok made a show of staggering to his right a bit at the blow, eliciting warm laughter from his troops. Letting those under one’s command see weakness could often be a mistake. But in a moment like this, it served only to draw them all closer. To see the human side, the man behind the Master.

Naruza arrived next, alongside two of Enek’Chok’s elite Sentinels.

“Is he alive?” Enek’Chok asked her, quickly returning to business.

Like the rest of them, Naruza was awestruck. But she closed her eyes in order to give the Warmaster the answer he sought.

“He is.” She nodded. “But barely.”

“We should hurry, then,” Enek’Chok said. “To lose him now would be unthinkable.” He turned his attention to one of his Sentinels. “Liung, the cage.”

Liung Haoy nodded curtly and ran back towards Verity’s Lament, the troops parting to let him through.

“Tua,” he said. “Summon Fireforge.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, but only briefly. “He’s ready,” she told him. “And on his way.”

“Excellent.” He turned to the troops and addressed them. “Stand back, my friends. Make way for the machine.”

A further murmur of awe and anticipation rippled among them. They began to clear the way, with a few of them bumping clumsily into each other, or stumbling in their eagerness to move aside. They had momentarily lost their focus and discipline, something that would be unforgivable under normal circumstances. But this was a special moment. A momentous time. Let them be as awestruck as children, if they must. They deserved to enjoy the moment as much as Enek’Chok was.

While they all awaited the machine’s arrival, Sh’Tera emerged, leading the two kaleese. They writhed along behind her, each one with a thick leather collar around what passed for their necks. Thick, heavy chains were attached to the collars and held firmly by Sh’Tera.

They towered at nearly ten feet tall, looming like swollen, writhing pillars, their movement closely resembling the way an inchworm bends and squirms forward. Each movement was accompanied by a repulsive squelch as their bodies, thick as ancient tree trunks, undulated with a nauseating grace. They left behind a slick trail of muck and slime that reeked horribly, only outdone by the smell from the beasts themselves.

Enek’Chok loathed everything about the revolting creatures. But they were a crucial part of the plan, with natural abilities the Order’s mages had not been able to adequately duplicate.

Sentinel Liung Haoy returned just as the rumble of the Master Engineer’s machine could be heard. He carried one of Enek’Chok’s enigma cages, one with a very specific function, and handed it to the Master of War. It was a rather small one and Enek’Chok held it in his right hand, its prismatic energy swirling peacefully from within its metal bars.

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He would make use of it soon enough, for the Forge Clasp Titan was coming into view. It was an enormous machine, unlike anything Enek’Chok had ever seen before, the creation of the brilliant Master Engineer Fabian Dewpetal.

Dewpetal was considered by most to be a genius, but Enek’Chok thought that word sold the man short. His creations were so unique and clever that some thought he must use magic, both in the creating and the operating. But magic was anathema to Dewpetal, and he would bristle at such a suggestion.

Dewpetal rarely left his sanctum back in Fortress Serenity, though, and had left the task of operating the Forge Clasp Titan in the hands of his Chief Contraptionalist, Orion Fireforge. Fireforge was brilliant in his own way, Enek’Chok conceded, even if he was eclipsed in every way by his Master. But he was so intensely loyal to Dewpetal that it flirted with the edge of religious devotion. While Enek’Chok found both men to be a little strange, he much preferred Dewpetal’s company over Fireforge. The Chief Contraptionalist had a gruff, rude demeanor and was dismissive of anybody he deemed stupid. Which was most people, unfortunately.

The troops lined up on either side of the Forge Clasp, creating a makeshift roadway for it to trundle through. The scene reminded Enek’Chok of a festive parade. And why shouldn’t it? Today was a day of celebration, one that would be remembered forever in the annals of history.

Enek’Chok considered using the cage in his hand, but decided it wasn’t quite time. The Enigmancer was not known for their patience or tolerance and would only be heeding Enek’Chok’s summoning because Lord Malphor had made a personal request. Best to wait until every piece was in place.

The Forge Clasp Titan continued forward, now coming into full view. A long, flat wooden load-stone skiff came to a halt in front of the fallen Godknight. The wood was, of course, laced with Dewpetal’s special Titan’s Vein. Everything Fabian Dewpetal created utilized the mysterious and powerful metal in one way or another, including Enek’Chok’s own siege tower. On top of the skiff rested the God Clasp, currently laying flat.

Dewpetal’s original design had the Clasp laying exactly as it was now: flat on the load-stone skiff. Enek’Chok was not one to question Dewpetal’s choices and rarely made requests. But in this case he had felt one was due. Dewpetal had obliged, tweaking the clasp to Enek’Chok’s specifications.

In the back of the skiff, connected by thick metal chains and clasps, was the machine that powered and moved the God Clasp. It was a bizarre looking thing; a horseless cart somehow powered by steam. Dewpetal had explained how it operated in elaborate detail, and at first, Enek’Chok had been fascinated. But the longer he had gone on, the more mired in technical minutiae Dewpetal had become. Enek’Chok’s eyes had glazed over and he had been reduced to polite smiles and nods and the occasional “oh?” or “wow!”

All that mattered to Enek’Chok, in the end, was that the contraption—as the Master Engineer referred to most of his strange machines—worked. And so far, it had lived up to expectations.

Dewpetal and Fireforge had chosen another of their curious names for the horseless cart: the “Boiler Buggy.” Enek’Chok walked over to it now, flanked by Tua Aoy, Naruza and his two Elite Sentinels. It was a marvel, to be sure. Made almost entirely of Titan’s Vein, the buggy was the size of a small horse-drawn cart and had room for exactly one person: the operator of the contraption, Orion Fireforge. He stood in the center of the buggy, his waist and legs hidden from view, appearing impatient despite the fact that he had come to a stop only moments earlier.

Behind him was a rounded dome that covered the forge, which powered the machine. Though Dewpetal’s explanation for how it worked had ultimately eluded Enek’Chok, he knew it was somehow powered by pressurized molten rock and steam. The entire thing moved along on Ironweave runners, a single unit of intricately interlocking chains that surrounded heavily reinforced steel and Titan’s Vein wheels.

“Better get moving, don’t you think?” Fireforge said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He folded his arms and sat back against the metal dome. In front of him sat the mechanism that he used to steer the contraption: a large wood and Titan’s Vein wheel that looked like it would be better suited on the stern of a large boat than on this land-bound wonder.

Enek’Chok held the surge of anger Fireforge elicited in check. The man was showing off, taking advantage of the respect Enek’Chok held for his master. Enek’Chok eyed him; a warning. Fireforge rolled his eyes, but stood up straight and alert.

“Is the machine—” Enek’Chok started. Then thought better of it. It would have been a simple and polite question, meant to assure he was ready to begin. But it would have only served to give Fireforge another opening to be rude.

“Begin,” he said instead.

Orion Fireforge smiled. He was a short man, abnormally so. But what he lacked in height, he nearly made up for in width. When he moved around outside of one of his contraptions, he hardly appeared to be walking at all, instead shuffling along in an awkward hobble. His hair was white, thick, and wild, little tufts extending in random places. His eyebrows were equally as white, thick, and wild. It was a wonder he managed to keep his jawline clean-shaven.

Enek’Chok didn’t like the look of the man; his appearance suggested a lack of hygiene and self respect. But his experience, as well as conversations with Fabian Dewpetal, made if perfectly clear that Fireforge could never be found lacking when it came to his own self confidence. Still, the tufts of hair sprouting freely from Fireforge’s ears was the absolute apex of what Enek’Chok could tolerate without ordering the man to clean himself up.

On either side of the wheel that operated the Boiler Buggy, several large levers protruded from the panels positioned there. There were no markings on any of them, all but ensuring nobody but Fireforge or Dewpetal would ever be able to operate it.

Fireforge began pushing and pulling levers with practiced ease, and almost immediately the God Clasp began to rise off the skiff. There was a loud sound of metal grinding on metal that made some of the soldiers surrounding the Titan groan and wince. But the clasp rose smoothly, arcing upwards until it was in an upright position. Fireforge pulled another lever, locking the clasp into place.

A steel and Titan’s Vein frame, twenty feet tall and half as wide, now stood straight up off the load-stone skiff. Chains and manacles—designed specifically with the Godknight in mind—dangled off the rack. Fireforge glanced at Enek’Chok and opened his mouth. But Enek’Chok beat him to it this time, offering a stiff nod.

Fireforge began operating a separate set of smaller levers on a panel below the larger ones. The entire contraption rumbled and shook, causing Fireforge’s face to flush red with embarrassment. He didn’t look at Enek’Chok, though, instead lowering his head, as if trying to make it look like all of this was perfectly normal. There was nothing “normal” here, though. This was a unique, one-of-a-kind machine designed specifically for this purpose, and only this purpose. The Order had many members of considerable power and might who had volunteered as test subjects, proving the machine worked. But it was one thing to test a machine in a controlled environment; it was another thing entirely to use it in the field.

Despite the shaking, the machine continued to work as intended. Two giant metal arms, one on either side of the skiff, unfurled from its sides. They were long and thick, but moved with an elegance and flexibility that only came from Titan’s Vein. On the ends were three pronged pincers, big enough to take hold of a human being.

Or a god.