Durran stared out across the vast emptiness of the Burnt Desert. As he did, the words of the woman he loved echoed in his head.

I don’t want you to fight, Elenore had said. I want you to stay in Blackgard, with me.

As he saw the countless people of his homeland running away, he’d felt the words that he’d said after rang all the truer.

This is bigger than you or me alone, Durran had said. Not many people are willing to do what has to be done. If everyone listened to that voice in their head that told them to do what they want, no one would get anything they need.

Durran turned back, looking away from the Burnt Desert and turning his gaze toward its coast. The ocean itself throbbed and pulsed, ascending to greater heights until it began to dwarf the mountains all around these sandy dunes. Countless deities that governed spheres relating to water had coalesced, coming to this point in stark opposition against this arid desert, against the Kingdom of Vasquer and all it stood for. Leading their tide was Fellhorn, undoubtedly, come to reclaim the land he had made more barren than ever.

“It’s a high tide, boys,” Durran shouted, spinning his glaive between his fingers as he walked to where his wyvern waited. He climbed aback the creature, placing himself firmly in the saddle. Hundreds of warriors of the southern tribes, supported by just as many southron elves, looked to him for guidance. He raised his glaive high and continued, “If anyone can conquer the water, it’d be us. We’re the warriors of the desert—and all of us, all of us, know what that means. Let’s give my kingly brother-in-law a pleasant surprise, yeah? When he shows up to help… let’s make sure none are left!” He shouted at the top of his lungs.

Durran’s wyvern ran forth a few steps and then took off gracefully. Those fleeing thousands behind him elevated his rage, his intense desire to protect, all the higher. He would meet this high tide with waves of power of his own. He felt it all course through him—an entire lifetime all leading up to a moment.

This was where the world would be made anew, or broken entirely.

#####

Galamon looked down at his gauntleted hand, moving his fingers one by one. There was new power within him. He’d thought that, having lived as long as he had and done as much as he’d done, nothing remained for him. But Hause had proven otherwise, and given him something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing.

“You don’t need to take the front, Galamon,” Patriarch Dras said. “This land is foreign to us. We’ve been here no longer than a year at most. These people outnumber ours ten to one, nearly. Let these people of the Great Chu throw themselves upon the coming barbarian hordes. Let’s build a wall from their corpses, and defend what remains.”

Galamon looked up, where a great tide of troops swarmed out of the jungles of the north. At the head of these hosts were gods, bringing structure and order to what was already a tremendously potent force. The Veidimen, gathered together in ruthless discipline, waited orders as the Great Chu soldiers already arranged to fight. Emperor Ji Meng had taken command, once again, intent on throwing back this force.

“Command is mine.” Galamon looked over. “Veid Herself has blessed my actions, and I have realized my full potential. I must fight. All of us must. We cannot claim this land as our own if we would not bleed to defend it.”

Patriarch Dras closed his eyes, sighing. “Very well, Galamon. Achieve victory. For your wife, for your son.”

“Not only them.” He nodded. “For all. Let us unite for all.”

Galamon strode forth, heading for the front of the Veidimen army. There, Veid already awaited. Something lingered in his step—something he thought had been killed, cast aside. Perhaps it had been brought back, or perhaps it hadn’t ever truly been killed.

Vampirism hounded Galamon’s step.

No longer was the hungry beast his master… rather, he owned it. He had again become a conduit for that awful power. Its strengths had returned tenfold, while its weaknesses had utterly vanished. Such a power had a cost, of course. Galamon felt a terrible hunger that ate at his whole body. Once, the blood of mortals had calmed it.

Now, only the blood of gods could sate its hunger.

#####

“Why do we always get sent underground, Dario?” Melanie asked as she stared up at the giant stone statue of a bearded dwarf. It depicted the founder of this great underground dwarven city, Mundi, with a great jar hefted his shoulder. “I go with them to Sandelabara underground. We fight the underground lich. Elenore even gave me a county that was underground.”

“Stop complaining. They’re coming.” Dario’s red eyes gazed straight ahead at the entrance to Mundi—it banged mightily, a resounding echo that permeated the whole city. Thousands of dwarves stood at the ready, armaments trained on the gate. Thousands more manned ballistae of Dario’s design, empowered by lava and packing a bolt that could pierce six feet of steel.

“I’m not complaining,” Melanie said, pausing as another huge bang echoed throughout the city. “I’m just saying.”

“I spent most of my life underground,” Dario answered. “As for you… we work well together.”

“So it’s your fault,” she noted, hefting her large chitinous sword. “Just my luck…”

Dario looked at her. “We can’t let a single enemy into the pressure regulator. If that building behind us falls to the enemy…” He turned around, where a huge, heavily-shielded building stood tall. “Then the pressure will hit us, all at once. We’ll be crushed instantly beneath the weight of the world. I imagine the surface will experience tremendous earthquakes. Essentially… millions could die if we fail.”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

“Hmm.” Melanie rolled her shoulder. “Well, you’re used to the weight of the world being on your shoulders. And you’ve got your suit, again.” She studied him.

Dario once again donned the mechanical construct that he’d worn when he was in the service of the Heralds. With it, he could confidently stand up to gods of any stripe. And unlike when he’d been the conduit for the Heralds, it wouldn’t destroy his body any longer. Such an improvement was half due to Hause unlocking an ability to personally act as a fuel source for artificial constructs, and half due to the fact Argrave and Anneliese had bestowed tremendous harvested essence to give him power to use the suit without killing himself.

“Its power won’t last forever,” Dario cautioned.

“Then I’ll pick up the slack,” Melanie said with a smile as she ran her free hand through her long red hair. “I’m getting used to it. Wish Hause had done as much for me as she did for you… but I don’t need a handicap,” she taunted.

The gargantuan gate to Mundi busted, and a single hand, positively dripping with lava, reached out and grasped at air. Melanie opened a portal, walked through, and appeared just above the hand. She swung with all her might, and it cleaved straight through the arm. Before she hit the ground, another portal took her back, and she landed up right beside Dario again.

“I can still fight. Everything seems to be in order…” Melanie hefted her blade. “Long day, I imagine. Long week.”

“But at the end of it… there might be a long life,” Dario said quietly. “I’d like that.”

#####

Ingo walked around the top floor of the Tower of the Gray Owl. He was joined by the most prominent living spellcasters of Berendar beyond the king’s inner circle—namely, Hegazar and Vera, the duke and duchess of Dirracha, and Artur, master of the Hall of Enchantment.

“I need to head to the bottom,” Ingo asked of the three. “Elenore sent word. Apparently, the roaming armies intend to target the base of the tower. They’re going to try and attack it.”

“Listen…” Hegazar held his hand up. “It’s great that Argrave liked you enough to show you to some pretty goddess, give you an oh-so-special power. I’m happy for you—I am. But our focus…” He walked to the balcony, looking upward. “Should be on that big bastard of a storm, baby blue.”

Ingo stared up at the gathering storm miles up in the sky. Apparently, countless gods worked in tandem to create it. It was highly mobile, and promised to be highly destructive. While some gods would be doing what they could to defend, and Argrave might eventually arrive to permanently resolve the situation… everyone would be stretched thin. To that end, the Order of the Gray Owl had been instructed to resolve this situation.

“My duke is right,” Vera said, nodding as she walked to join the two. “The armies that the nobles raised will be focused on dealing with the forces that assault from the ground. In the meantime, Castro taught you more about this tower than anyone still alive. Can you leverage something to stop the storm? That’s the duty Argrave gave us.”

Ingo thought long and hard, until finally he raised his head up determinedly. “I can do something. But I’ll need your help, Artur. We have to rewrite the tower’s enchantments.”

“Rewrite them?” Artur repeated. “I may be skilled, but not that skilled.”

“I can help. It’s part of the power Hause gave me,” Ingo confirmed. “The Tower of the Gray Owl already has a lightning rod to help recharge the tower’s enchantments. I can reconfigure it to take all manner of fire—I’m certain of it.”

“Well…” Artur looked between Ingo and the ducal pair. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Let’s just hope the nobles finally prove to be worth their salt.” Hegazar shook his head.

“Said one of the high nobles,” Vera pointed out. “Myself… I think our tower is going to collapse by the end of the day.”

“We have to try,” Ingo insisted. “We can’t let the legacy of the Order of the Gray Owl amount to nothing.”

“We can,” Artur argued. “It’d be ridiculously easy—we’d just have to do nothing. But I’m here, and I’ve got time, so let’s get to work. Make Castro proud, won’t you?”

#####

“Mina… are you sure you want to do this?” Nikoletta asked her friend—or rather, someone who’d become far more than a mere friend—as they exited Hause’s temple.

Mina looked up at Nikoletta. “Nicky, for the first time… Hause has given me the ability to do as much for you as you’ve done for me. There’s no chance in hell you can convince me not to join your side—especially because she gave you no power of your own.”

“Alright.” Nikoletta closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. “Let’s go see Argrave.”

They walked through the city of Blackgard, pushing past the chaotic crowds as they headed toward the parliamentary hall. Once they arrived there, they saw the countless others gathered around. Duke Sumner, the whole of the house of Parbon, the rulers of the city of Jast, the Archduchess of the North and her sister, Vasilisa of Quadreign… it was the whole of Vasquer, brought together and centered around Argrave.

“Nikoletta,” Argrave called out, looking up. “Good. Come here. Elenore needs to establish connection. We’re just about to get started.”

Nikoletta joined the crowd of nobles. All of them had been taken away from their hosts, and soon, they would return with their duty bestowed by their kind. There, gods and traitors of all kinds would await them. Nikoletta had waited for this day with dread, but she would meet it fearlessly now that it would come. Such was her duty.

“I’m not going to mandate what it is you should do,” Argrave continued, speaking to all. “I’ll tell you what I know, and then expect you to use your best judgment. You’re my vassals, and I trust you. My own forces will be monitoring the situation, and should it ever grow too desperate, we’ll show up to relieve you. The fact is… this is going to be a desperate struggle. Fight every second as if the enemy has a knife at your neck, because it might only take a second for that to be true.”

“We approach the final hour,” Anneliese contributed. “The days will be long and hard for all of us, but at the end of all this lies true liberty. And with it, we can give those that come after us eras of endless peace and boundless prosperity. Fight with that image in your mind.”

“I’ve gone as deep as the planet’s core and as high as the suns, moving mountains and rebirthing stars in preparation for this day,” Argrave picked up when silence fell. “But at the end of the road… the fate of the world rests in its own hand. It rests in our hands, all of us. I’ll do my best to carry everyone I can, and if all of you can help me just a little… I know we can push it over the line.” He nodded intently, then shouted, “I’m right, aren’t I?!”

Affirmative calls filled the square.

“Then I’ll waste no more time,” Argrave said. “Let me tell you what we’re facing…”