In the wake of the destruction wrought on the Iron Kingdom, Fortenex was well pleased. From his chariot high in the skies, he looked down upon the world with keen eyes. His gaze turned to a remote clifftop near the land of giants. There, his lover, Drenda, stood at the edge of a high cliff. Her dark hair flowed around her in the hills as she went clad in ragged, red robes, and her clawed hands were in place. With her was a satyr clad in red robes with a steel mask: the High Priest, Karasush.

"It is done. Fortenex has kept his word," said Drenda, voice filled with pride. "The humans and dwarves have torn each other to pieces by his hand. Melchious has been denied his weapon. We may flow out over this land and take it for our own."

Even as she spoke, Fortenex reached out with one hand. Across the world, monsters and races long forgotten began to stir. Not just in Viokinar but in many other domains. From the reaches of the far south of Gel Carn. To ancient groves in Themious, even other worlds. The power that was now stirring could not be halted.

Nor should it.

"Do not be too hasty, Drenda," said Karasush, calm and collected as always. Karasush had a rare knack for keeping his head, making him valuable to Fortenex. "My satyrs have come to me. They tell me that many villages survived the purge. And among them are Byran and Raka. Two of the great warriors of the Iron Kingdom remain, and they are working to recreate it.

"Even now, they give assistance to those that remain, and their blades are at hand. And more come, for a fleet of ships under Vanion Gabriel may thwart your plans."

Vanion.

Always Vanion.

A regular trickster mixed with Lord of Order at that. He and Karasush were cut of the same cloth. However, Vanion was the stronger at present. Fortenex would have to do something about this, wouldn't he?

Drenda smiled. "It hardly matters, for we have grown while they shrank. They are few, and we are many. They cannot stop us from seizing this land.

"I only hope that Grendesh may arrive. He has been gone a long time."

Then Fortenex saw something rushing in the underbrush. Out of the trees burst his son's trailing blood. Grendesh had only a stump where his hand had once been. It was bleeding copiously, and he had been injured. Great tears were coming from the giant's eyes as he fell to the ground at Drenda's feet.

So, Gabriel had defeated him.

"Grendesh! Grendesh, what has happened?" asked Drenda, setting about healing him by spell. And her voice was filled with mourning.

Fortenex turned his chariot and sent his wives rushing toward Drenda. He heard it all as he shot through the air on the wind. Grendesh looked up, eyes drooping.

"Mother..." he gasped.

"Bring me bandages and herbs, quickly!" said Karasush. And they were brought forward.

"Grendesh, your poor hand!" said Drenda, kneeling by him. "Who has done this to you."

"William... Gabriel..." gasped Grendesh.

Then he collapsed. That name.

Fortenex had heard it a great deal lately.

Drenda tended to his wounds. Fortenex felt anger coming into his thoughts. They were coursing through him like the tides of hellfire. William Gabriel had interfered with his plans again. Not stopped them, of course, they could not stop it. But he had made Fortenex pay a high price and put future barriers in the path of the future. This time, it had cost the hand of one of his children. His mortal children.

"Fortenex! Fortenex, my love who found me in the ruins of my village!" cried Drenda. "Come to me! Grant me an audience!"

Fortenex surged down from the sky and drew his chariot to a halt. And though he felt nothing for Grendesh, he would honor his son and his consort. "You called me name, Drenda. And I have come to you."

"A warrior called William Gabriel has maimed my son!" said Drenda. "Curse him, my love! Let all his journeys be cursed! May his companions die and all that he labors for come to ruin! Let him die alone!"

"This name I know of well," said Fortenex, pleased that her desires were so close to his own. "For one of my daughters has long fought with him. By his hand were some of the people in this land spared. More battles would have to be fought, which, without him, would not have happened at all.

"Yet he is well guarded. He is precious to many gods, who are my enemies."

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"Then will you allow this ruination of our son?" asked Drenda.

"No, my lady," said Fortenex, feeling fury at the injury dealt to his beloved flesh. The winds howled as he spoke, and Zeya's lightning smote the rocks to create avalanches in the passes. The air howled with the cries of the Iron Kingdom's victors. "I shall not. For your sake, my curse shall be upon him. Yet it shall be a long time in the working. I will strive to do all that you have asked. My will shall be his downfall, but it shall not be through my hand or my subjects' hands.

"And the wound of our son shall not be forever. For I will have my goblins forge a claw of iron, and it shall be set over the stump. When I cast my spell over it, he shall move it as he did his fingers. And it shall grip harder than any mortal hand.

"Now, my lady, I must depart. For the beginnings of my curse must be sewn."

He cupped Drenda by the cheek, then looked to where Karasush was tending to Grendesh. A meaningless formality it was. But he would perform it nonetheless, for one must hold their lover in affection. Finally, he turned and leaped back onto his chariot. He whipped the goat-formed women harnessed into them and drove them away.

He shot across the great western ocean, far from the frozen north, and cold fell on the lands. And as he flew, he soon came to far more green and fertile lands. And he found a great mountain, greater than any other in that domain.

He rode his chariot downwards and brought it to a halt near the peak. There, he saw a tall and muscular woman. Her hair was long and white at the moment, but her features were young. Her eyes were golden, and she wore only a loose-fitting white tunic that bared her long legs.

In one hand was a crackling lightning bolt.

"Hail Zeya! Queen of the Western Gods!" said Fortenex.

"Fortenex," said Zeya. "It has been many decades since last you came to the Mount of Olorus."

"Indeed it has, Mighty Queen," said Fortenex, pleased at his greeting. "Tell me, what are you seeking far below in your domain?"

"A worthy lay for the night if you must know," said Zeya. Often, she sought worthy men to lie with and rarely found them among her people.

Fortenex came up behind her and followed her gaze. There was a young man, slight of frame. Probably very handsome by the standards of the western lands. Which meant he was weak, effeminate, and spineless. He was actually picking flowers, which no man of the east would be caught dead doing.

"What of him?" he asked.

"Yes, he is fair to look upon," said Zeya. "Yet I am in the mood for one more willful. Stronger of body. Perhaps a farmer's son; there must be one handsome enough."

"A farmer? Would not a great warrior be more to your tastes?" said Fortenex.

"I am not in the mood for women," said Zeya.

"But there are many men warriors in foreign lands, are there not?" asked Fortenex.

"I have not gone far afield in many years," mused Zeya. "Elranor does not like me going among his people."

"Ah, but forbidden fruit has always tasted sweeter, has it not?" asked Fortenex.

Zeya looked at him in amusement. It's easy to manipulate this one. "It has. But Elranor is mighty, and I would not risk his displeasure save for one truly great."

"Then I may have one worthy of your efforts," said Fortenex, and he pointed with one hand from the Mountain of the Gods. "Look there."

And he turned and motioned far to the east and conjured up the image of a ship. Minotaurs crewed it. Mighty men before the mast, who had sailed to many lands and fought in many battles. All save for five who were mightier still.

One of the five was a tall woman with wavy blonde hair like a mortal version of Zeya. The second was a Calishan boy, short, thin, and dark of hair and face. Zeya took little notice of him, though Fortenex knew his nature. Then, there was a chimera lounging on the deck with the crew having to step around her. It was an odd choice of companion but a good one.

Finally, two blonde people, a boy and a girl, stood near the woman. The girl was thin and lean, with a bowl cut for her hair and a gray tunic, and at either side of her belt hung two long blades. The boy wore black armor engraved with images of death. His hair was longer, reaching down to beneath the shoulder. Over one eye was a jagged scar, though whatever had made it had not touched the eye itself. At his side was a black sword inscribed with red runes. Under one arm, he held a helmet with the image of a skull upon the visor.

"You show me the greatest of my children," noted Zeya.

"And also her company," said Fortenex. "Her child stands beside her."

"The prophesied one," mused Zeya. "Yes, I see them. That girl wields two blades instead of a shield and spear."

"She has been trained in them; you needn't fear," said Fortenex. "Long she studied in Carn Gable beneath the eyes of the finest warriors. Yet it is to her compatriot that I think you should look."

"Armor like death itself," said Zeya. "Yet he is very fair beneath it. How did he gain that scar?"

"He won it fighting one of my daughters," said Fortenex. "He has journeyed far and mastered perils far greater than many warriors twice his age. And faced demons and horrors beyond measure."

"But he is in the company of Azgora and many others," said Azgora. "I prefer privacy with my conquests."

"Ah, but you may have it," said Fortenex. "For there is an island called Estal not far to the east where this ship is sailing. If you wish, I will summon a tempest and blow their ship off their right path to Estal. Then, I will quiet the winds about that land and do so for a week or so.

"In that time, the boy may become separated from his compatriots. And then you may move upon him."

"And Herus will know nothing of this," said Zeya. "Her gaze rarely goes far beyond Themious, and the Festival of the Hearth is nigh. I will make my move then. My husband will be occupied until I have had my fun. Perhaps I may meet with Azgora's daughter.

"If she has not already been instructed in her destiny by Azgora, I may do so myself.

"Yes, this will fit nicely into my designs."

"Then I shall stir up the winds," said Fortenex. "One moment." He raised a hand and sent forth his will. The winds shifted and changed. And once Zeya made her move, he'd be sure Herus knew of it.

His curse would soon be wrought. And many great battles would ensue.

Zeya was fun to manipulate. It came with being the Goddess of Heroes, or so Fortenex presumed.