The self-immolated goblin pounced on the creature Danara had pulled out of the shadows. Azarus’s eyes traced the purple line that led from the blackened, burning skeleton to Moka. As the [Faefire Apparition] illuminated the shadows, revealing the pale, elongated creature within, Azarus saw the line leading from his champion to the creature pull taut. The [Faefire Apparition] tore into the creature, using skeletal claws to rend flesh. The lines met, crossing over and melding; shadows and purple fire fighting for dominance.

Another line jerked, pulling Azarus’s attention. The creature’s twin, an elongated, pale goblin with extra joints and white lights for eyes, gathered itself up to leap at Moka. It crouched on all four limbs, white light spilling from its face as it grinned. With a thought, Azarus drew up its information, curious what the goblin had become.

[Greedy Goblin Shade]: A [Silk Shadow Goblin], possessed by a summoned [Greedy Shadow].

Azarus nodded to himself. It was about what he was expecting. A line, drenched in shadows, led from the shade to Danara. Like Moka, many lines converged on Danara’s chest. The two thickest connected her to the [Grafted Hobgoblin] and Moka. Running between her and the hobgoblin, the line was twined from shadows and red velvet. On Danara’s end of the line, close to her chest, the red velvet dripped like blood. The shadows staining the line swelled, rushing from Danara toward the hobgoblin’s chest in a wave. Ethereal purple flames ate at the base of his line, trying to gain a foothold.

The grafted hob screamed in silence, lashing out with his elongated arms, vines extending out of his hands like multi-tailed whips. Foam dripped from his lips, crawling down his scarred chin as shadowy hands clawed up his legs. He vented his frustration on anything within reach, each strike tainting the nearby vines, causing them to yellow. Bringing both fists overhead, he brought them down with all his might in the direction Moka was standing. The line between him and Moka pulled tight. The hob’s arms went wide as his knee buckled. Extending from his fists, yellowed vines beat the air with a life of their own.

Between Moka and the unhindered [Greedy Shade], their line tightened further. The shade leapt, clawed hands reaching for Moka’s throat. It used its multi jointed limbs to lunge from odd angles. Claws akin to talons, jagged and sharp, curved toward Moka’s face, jutting out of blackened fingertips.

Pressed next to Azarus, his head on the god’s lap, Zagrus whined. Azarus patted the hound, acknowledging he saw it as well. The taut lines merged, tangling together. The hob hit the shade mid-lunge, clipping it with the side of his fist. His stumble unwittingly led him to Moka’s salvation. Lashing vines touched the shade, instinctively coiling around the creature, binding it tight. The hob continued to vent, slamming the shade to the ground, then windmilling in another direction as if he did not realize he was holding it. A line like a bloody, yellowed vine knotted around a line like a fraying thread, the hob’s influence dominating the [Greedy Shade’s].

The remaining [Silk Shadow Goblin] charged at Moka, weapons raised, and line tightening. The line running between Moka and Carwen, streaked in gold and green, jerked. A thin purple, dark as night, stained Carwen’s end, creeping like smoke. Carwen, her eyes lingering on the [Faefire Apparition] as it wrestled a [Greedy Shade], snapped up straight, as if breaking out of a daze. She took in the situation.

The [Grafted Hobgoblin] thrashed in a circle, broken but living minion in hand. Moka spun her staff, redirecting the attacking shadow goblin. The [Faefire Apparition] bashed its opponent across the face with a sharp, bony elbow, sending sparks skittering across the vines. Around them, yellowed patches of the woven-vine ground moved, sending out questing tendrils. The [Village Beauty] inhaled, her chest expanding. Her eyes were watery behind her scarf. Near-invisible smoke hung around her mouth, filtering through the cloth with each breath.

With a heavy exhale that made her makeshift mask flutter, Carwen and her illusion both broke into a run. They sprinted, shoulder to shoulder, her [Autumn Pixie] hovering over them. Together, they skirted around patches of [Corrupted Vinewood], unerringly heading toward Moka.

Danara stepped out of the darkness behind the berserk hob, the line between them shortening. The surrounding shadows whipped and roiled, indistinct shapes crawling off her skin and onto the ground. Her red hair glistened, as if soaked in blood. She ducked beneath a wild swing, stepping in time with the hob in a game familiar to Moka and now Azarus. With each turn and twist, she matched his movement, staying directly behind him. Laying both hands on his back, she closed her eyes. The roiling shadow swarm surged forward, covering both of them.

Carwen’s illusion sprinted past the mound of writhing shadow, running toward Moka with her dagger raised. The shadow goblin was harassing Moka, refusing to engage meaningfully, preventing her from finishing the fight or leaving. She feinted a stab at it, causing it to skitter out of reach. The [Explosives Expert] turned to disengage, just for the shadowy figure to dart back toward her, weapon raised. Carwen caught it from the side, crashing into it, dagger first. They fell to the ground in a tumble of silk skirts. She grabbed its hair with one hand, leveraging its chin up. With a scream, she slit its throat, her eyes feverish. The line connecting her to Moka swelled, gaining strength.

Azarus blinked, doing a double take. He stood up, approaching the mirror to examine it closer. What he had thought was Carwen’s illusion was her true body. He squinted, but could not find her body double despite her [Autumn Pixie] still hanging overhead. The elf grabbed his champion by the arm, dragging her toward the exit without a word, their lines melding at the edges. The dagger in her hand shimmered. His keen eyes caught Moka’s spark-creating gloves discarded on the ground.

Azarus focused on the shimmer. There was no dagger in Carwen’s hand, just a lit grenade. He frowned, inspecting the shadow goblin’s corpse. Many things were possible, but slitting a throat with a clay orb seemed unlikely. His examination revealed her dagger still embedded in the goblin’s body. The god frowned, tapping his lips with a finger. Leaving her weapon behind was a novice mistake, and giving up the utility of her body double was a questionable strategy. He was curious if she had a plan, or if blind desperation and [Faefire] delusions fueled her.

Carwen dragged Moka for a handful of reluctant steps while the goblin’s mind caught up. When it did, their roles reversed in an instant. Moka applied her Moderate gift of Might through her legs and into the ground, taking powerful, ground-eating steps. Behind them, the [Faefire Apparition] crowed its victory over the [Greedy Shade], ripping its brethren free of its fleshy prison with skeletal claws. Carwen took rapid steps, allowing Moka to pull her along. In Azarus’s eyes, two burning purple lines connected Moka to the apparitions. Ahead of the pair, the forest called, promising freedom.

With his finger, Azarus traced the lines in the mirror. The one that concerned him the most led from Danara to Moka. On Danara’s end, the line thrashed like it was hooked to a shark. It knotted, two foreign lines tangling with it. As Moka passed the mound of writhing shadow, Carwen in tow, the knotted line pulled tight.

Flexing his will, Azarus sheathed his hand in his domain, creating a skintight glove of tri-flame. The knotted line displeased him. It was rank with corruption and unwilling mutation. He could see part of Danara’s line unravel, becoming hair-like strands of shadow. A line like yellowed, bloodied vine and one like a frayed black thread joined the hairs, knotting together to create a malformed rope. The rope grew, knotting toward Moka at a high speed. The older knots melded together, the frayed line binding the hairs and vines together into a greater whole.

Azarus pressed his fiery fingertips against the Mirror of Eons. It flexed beneath his touch. The flames on his hand rapidly cycled, flashing emerald, gold, and gray. The lines represented an element of change. This, he knew for certain. However, he could not fit their behavior into a pattern. They seemed almost reactive, not weaving the future like he would expect from Fate, nor applying faults and balances like Karma.

He saw an ebb and flow in the lines. They crossed paths like waves in the ocean, continuing on their way, altered. He felt he should be able to trace the casualties between them, predicting which lines would meet, and how those changes would carry to the next merging. However, he could not. It was not beyond his sight, instead, it escaped his predictions.

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A slight smile passed over Azarus’s lips. It was good he could not see events before they played out. He pressed his weight behind his hand. An emerald blaze erupted from beneath his palm. If he knew the future, he would lack purpose. He yearned to find new challenges, to test himself against them. The lack of a pattern was a clue. It was the unexpected. The ripples of countless hands touching the tapestry of fate, their actions changing reality, and changing them in return. What was a random change, if not fortune, for better or worse? Lines of luck, connecting lives together and creating change. The quality of that change was based on perspective. The fledgling god’s slight smile blossomed into a full grin.

With a hand of emerald fire, he reached through the Mirror of Eons and into the mortal world. His intent narrowed to a single point, focusing on his purpose. He meant to pluck the lines. Whatever mad aberration Danara was becoming, he would put an end to it before it got too far. With his touch on the scale, victory was within reach. It was time he acted. He was ready to leave this world behind, claim his rewards, and empower his champion for the next step.

Vibrating his essence, the god spoke, plucking Danara’s line with a blazing finger.

“Enough.”

For the barest of moments, Azarus felt a sense of resistance on his fingertip. Moka, running past the mound of shadows, hesitated at Azarus’s voice, glancing around, confused. Azarus’s finger slipped through the line, leaving it untouched. Unprompted, the line between Moka and Carwen yanked tight. Carwen stumbled into Moka and knocked her over, causing them to avoid the spear-like vines that lanced over their heads.

A grotesque, multi-limbed figure stood in the shadows. It moved to block off the path to the exit as Moka and Carwen scrambled to their feet. Azarus did not need to examine the figure to know that Danara had used her [Greedy Shadows] to transform all three unfortunate goblins, including herself. A vein pulsed in his forehead, a physical manifestation of his irritation. Touching the line and speaking had not worked. Reality was meant to tremble at his touch, not flee from it.

As much as he hated being reminded of how crippled he was, there was no changing it. Zag whined, nudging his hand. Azarus gave his companion a soft smile, laying a comforting hand on his head. They sat in shared understanding. The god discarded his anger, choosing to acknowledge his grief. These were the cards the universe had dealt him. He would play them the best he could. With a sigh, Azarus used [Divine Insight] to see what Danara had done to herself.

[Shadowforged Monstrous Ettin]: Two monstrous souls, bound, mind and body by sacrifice. A mutated Bloodline that promises power at a steep price. Grants Trait: [Born to Suffer], [Two in One]

Azarus examined how Danara had used the raw materials of three living bodies, her [Greedy Shadows], and the hobgoblin’s [Corrupted Body] to create a functional evolution. She had used the [Grafted Hobgoblin’s] transformed form as a base, bolstering it with bone and muscle. Azarus saw three hearts beating in its chest, bony spurs sticking out of its joints. Two heads sat on its broad shoulders. Shadows soaked into its body, causing it to vanish wherever light did not touch. She had grafted her arms onto the torso below the larger, vine covered arms, giving the ettin a faint resemblance to a crab. Daggers stuck out of its back and shoulders, point first, like quills.

Danara laughed, her head crested in cascading blood red locks. Her face split into a sharp grin as she controlled the body’s larger pair of arms, rolling them in a circle to test the range. Satisfied, she twisted her neck to look next to her. Frowning, she glared at the second head. He stared, expressionless, into the distance, his face a scarred mask. Azarus leaned close to the mirror as Danara’s head muttered beneath her breath.

“Spoilsport. You’ll come round. You always do.”

Swinging in wide, overhead arcs, the Danara brought her vine trailing fists down on either side of Moka and Carwen. Her smaller arms, positioned halfway up the muscle-bound creature’s torso, slashed in their direction, promising to dice them if they ventured close. Below each wrist, the arms ended in the bladed edges of Danara’s [Troll Tusk Daggers].

The line between Moka and the ettin was knotted and thick. It pulsed in time with each strike, pulling closer to Azarus’s champion or the ettin, like they were playing tug of war. The line strayed closer to the ettin, growing thicker as it clipped Moka in the side of her chest with a heavy fist. Moka lost her grip on the ground, tumbling head over heels toward the [Faefire Apparitions]. The ettin took a lumbering step forward to finish their strife and hesitated. Danara’s laughing face twisted into a scowl, her eyes landing on the burning skeletons.

A forgotten line, leading between Moka and Carwen, snapped tight. Azarus’s attention flicked to it, his eyes straining as he squinted to see. Ethereal flames flickered along the line’s length in a familiar hue. Azarus recognized his heraldry like his own face. Gold flames surged into prevalence, jostling with an aggressive emerald blaze. Soothing gray flames ran between them, softening their edges and binding them together.

In concert with Carwen’s line changing, the line connecting Moka and Danara shifted, drawing closer to the [Explosives Expert]. Moka sprang to her feet, twisting out of the way of a questing, yellowed vine. Her end of the line blazed emerald and gold. She snarled at the creature Danara had become. The side of her wooden breastplate had splintered, partially caving in. Bloody shards of wood stuck out of her chest. Azarus frowned, noting the flaw in the [Elven Heartwood Breastplate’s] choice to use wood as a protective material. Moka took shallow breaths, her staff raised and eyes steady.

Azarus reached through the mirror, his fingers blazing emerald, and plucked the line. His finger gained purchase for a fraction of a second, just enough to move it a hair. He funneled his intent, picturing his distaste for what Danara had done, and his desires for Moka. A ripple spread along the line in both directions. It traveled through Moka’s chest, journeying up to the tangle of lines above her head resembling a halo. Once there, it resonated with another line; the vibration continuing back down and out to travel along the line between Moka and Carwen.

Danara stayed back, using the vines and her elongated arms, reinforced with spare muscle and bone, to strike at Moka from a distance. Her arms flickered through the shadows. The vibration traveling toward her end of the line fizzled out long before it reached her, the thick rope too heavy for the light touch to move. Moka deflected the first strike, her arms buckling. The second staggered her. A third, rapid blow broke through her defenses and sent her reeling.

The moment the vibration exited Moka’s chest, the tri-colored line leading to Carwen erupted into an emerald blaze. The fire traveled along the line in an instant, the flames delving into the elf’s chest. She had her arm cocked, already throwing the grenade. The fuse had almost burned down to the nub, less than a finger’s width left. With a cry, she threw the explosive. The emerald flames hit her chest at the same time.

The [Village Beauty] stumbled, her lead foot crumpling beneath her. Emerald flame filled her body. It pulsed through her, her autumn eyes gaining new life. She released the grenade before she intended to, her fingers slipping off the grooved orb. Her finely manicured nail clipped the edge of a groove as it left her hand. Carwen let her trip take her, turning the quick steps to catch her balance into a sprint toward Moka.

Azarus focused. Fiery gray wings erupted out of his back, beating three times in quick succession. From his perspective, time crawled to a halt, giving him a moment to consider the puzzle in front of him. Danara had discarded her fear of the [Faefire Apparitions] in favor of ending his stunned and reeling champion. The burning skeletons themselves were advancing, but too far away to make a difference in the next moments.

Carwen’s grenade hung in the air, the fuse disappearing in a steady stream of sparks. With her trajectory, the [Village Beauty] was rushing after it, heading for where it would land. Judging the arc, Azarus decided the impact point would be far too close to Moka and her follower for comfort. Carwen was not immune to the [Faefire] and he did not trust Moka to resist the blast unscathed. The flames would cover them like a blanket.

He examined the scene with a keen eye, searching for the key. Something was here, he was sure of it. A way to tip the scales without sacrificing pieces of himself. He felt it with the surety he felt his domain. It was there, just out of reach. Like his domain, he needed to find how to apply it.

With a fiery finger, he traced Carwen’s line. It was gold now, the color leaking into her eyes. He could see it in her, the courage, the desire to rise above. It was more than that, he knew. The exit was wide open behind her, the certainty of freedom left in her wake in favor of the desperate promise of violence twisting her lips.

The god followed the line into Moka’s chest, where it tangled with the others. He picked it out of the knotted mess with ease. It led him to the halo reaching over her head. The halo sat placid, the woven lines creating it, only reacting when an outside source pulled them tight. Azarus touched the halo, his fiery fingers finding purchase through the mirror’s icy surface. The edges of his eyes crinkled, his lips twisting up.

The god’s fiery gray wings collapsed into ash, falling to the ground in two columns where they vanished. Time resumed. He was ready to end this. It had gone on for too long. With measured intent, he channeled his domain into his hand. He pinched a single line between his fingertips. Waiting for a heartbeat, he pulled it tight, changing the mortal world to suit his taste.