Argrave saw Lorena’s return long in advance. She had fled—perhaps prudently—because of what the suns had been doing. She returned as she’d left, like a comet soaring through the sky. Argrave flinched as she appeared in a burst of speed and light, again bearing witness to her draconic form moments before she seamlessly transformed back into something more human.
“What did you do?” she asked him. Her voice wasn’t angry, but it was certainly stiff.
Argrave took a moment to compose himself, casting a glance at Anneliese to gauge from her expression if he needed to fear this ancient dragon might try something. Anneliese didn’t seem to be particularly wary, so he faced Lorena with calm.
“You told me that you’re like Raven. That you’ve a certain mastery of the body,” he began. “That means you probably have Truesight of some kind—and that means you know what happened.”
“It was rather far from what we’d discussed,” she said, her voice drawn tight.
“Not really. I vowed to block people from Gerechtigkeit’s influence—I’ve done that. Nothing alive will ever again be subject to influence outside the confines of their own mind.” He could help but smile as he continued, “…and if that includes the Heralds, so be it. Their input isn’t especially valued.”
Lorena stared him eye-to-eye, not even blinking. “You’re quite the dandy bastard.” She poked his chest with her sharp nail—it was almost a claw, really. “This is going to be bloody. Very bloody. You talked to Jaray, I assume?”
Argrave blinked—he couldn’t of yet tell her disposition toward this change. “I did. And the ones that hold his leash. Fortunately for us, we’ll never hear from them again.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Lorena said without committing.
Argrave tried not to reveal anything, but eventually felt a surge of annoyance that compelled him to say, “I don’t have to dance around the issue anymore. Even if they can hear us, they can’t do anything. The Heralds are responsible for every bit of misery that Gerechtigkeit has ever caused. They’re responsible for all but culling your species. Will you take up the fight again?”
“There it is. The blunt truth. I was wondering how long it would take.” She stepped away and looked up to the sky. “Your idea was really one of the most outlandish things I’ve ever seen. And it does disquiet me that you’re the point of failure. You already had quite the large target on your back, but now?” She shook her head in disbelief. “If you die, what happens?”
Orion stepped between them. “Try it, and I’ll—”
“Lorena’s just curious, Orion. Right?” Argrave interrupted his brother, and Lorena nodded. “If I died, all souls would become an isolated island. I just gave myself a little advantage, nothing more. A little service fee for removing a vulnerability on all our operating systems. Now…” He walked closer to her. “I didn’t catch the answer to my question.”
“Your question’s predicated on something untrue,” Lorena said, raising one finger up. “I can’t take up the fight again.”
“You’re here, now,” Raven pointed out to her. “You seem to be limited in no capacity.”
“Come on.” She looked at him. “He took your soul, not your brain. I can’t take up a fight I never put down.” She turned her head back to Argrave with a broad smile. “The dragons up there aren’t the ones that fought against Gerechtigkeit all those millennia ago. My old allies have all died, naturally or otherwise. Those I’d call kin alive today won’t be of any help to you—they’re soft, living their lives of quietude with peaceful spectacle. But me?” Her nostrils flared, quite literally at that. “Nothing would please me more than putting an end to all of this. I haven’t forgotten a thing, whether it’s what the Heralds did to us, or how to fight. And we’re to be very busy.”
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The majority of the world was in turmoil after the reformation of the two suns into one. There were a few notable exceptions like the dwarves, who just saw strange sparkling gold balls fly out of their chest at a random time. Their diplomats asked Vasquer what had happened, and he told them the truth—nothing worth concern.Property © .
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Not everyone saw it that way. Those on the surface sought answers about this solar phenomenon. Those educated about the soul were in much higher supply after Llewellen and his team had pioneered soul magic, and they were able to provide the answers to the questioning masses. It was precisely for this reason that so many were terrified, yet the fact nothing had seemed to change did quiet their fright. They’d lost something they were barely aware of, and nothing changed… ignoring the solitary golden disc in the sky, that was. But though nothing had changed for the average person, a great many things had changed for others.
The change most urgently deserving attention was the sudden freedom of the Gilderwatchers.
Argrave had spared them a fate of servitude to Gerechtigkeit, but in doing so he’d also stripped away their primary way to communicate with one another. They were gathered together deep beneath the earth, likely in a panic. Argrave gave Orion full authority to organize an expedition constituted of whatever members were willing to join him, and move out to retrieve them. His brother, of everyone, was most qualified for that role. He verified their safety, explained the situation, and then gave them the freedom of choice. They couldn’t give their answer in words, but Orion conveyed with considerably certainty they chose to remain underground until the time for battle came, whereupon they’d employ whatever might they could in defense of the world.
The change most severely felt was the sudden disappearance of druidic magic.
In Vasquer, Elenore had implemented druidic magic into her communication networks. Its sudden absence proved to be a tremendous point of failure, further exacerbated by the chaos caused after the solar event. It took her a long while to set up a ramshackle form of communication, during which she was cursing Argrave the whole time.
Argrave and Anneliese also felt the loss. His little foxes, the Brumesingers, had largely been kept out of the way after they had done their tremendous feat of crippling the Great Chu flagship. When Argrave came to them, though their lingering affection remained, they had become about as controllable as any other pet: namely, not very. Their mists, having been given some of the power of the dryads, were incredibly hazardous, so Argrave ended up quarantining them in the mountains of Blackgard. Some people who’d been immunized by the dryads themselves were assigned as caretakers. As for Anneliese and her Starsparrow… the creature had become reliant on her for food, but it now left her side frequently, returning only when it needed to eat. She refused to cage it, letting nature take its course.
It also turned into a very large issue for their diplomatic partners. Veiden lost what was essentially a part of its cultural heritage in moments. Countless druids found themselves reduced to mere spellcasters overnight. Their governance, which had shifted focus to the Great Chu, was as severely impacted as Elenore’s communication lines. The only one spared of this was Rowe—his dragon had been by his side for well over two hundred years, and he often didn’t even need to use druidic magic to express his intent. Argrave was told that it was as though nothing changed for them.
Not all changes were negative. It was also a resounding victory on another front: necromancy.
Argrave had been hoping that it would kill every necromantic creation in existence in one fell swoop. He wasn’t quite so fortunate, yet he’d still left an indelible mark. No longer would any new undead come into existence. Those that had already been crafted sadly received the same treatment that everyone alive did. Most notable among those were liches. The undying wizards were freed of Gerechtigkeit’s control just as any mortal. Their present body, however, would be the last they could inhabit before they met their true death. Argrave was uncertain of what to make of that. Would they be allies in the fight to come, or another point of weakness?
After the initial chaos, the initial unrest… everyone adapted surprisingly well. The more that Argrave thought on it, the more that he believed he had done something right. He’d thought himself saintly for refusing to follow Griffin’s schema for freedom from the heralds, but there was something to be said about the immorality of meddling with the soul. He’d had countless headaches pondering the morality of the burgeoning field of soul magic, and how such a thing might be regulated. Necromancy, too, was a point of concern.
Both moral dilemmas had been wiped out overnight.
They had severed contact with both Gerechtigkeit and the Heralds. It was a huge comfort in many ways, but Argrave couldn’t deny he wished to be able to speak to them. He would’ve loved a live reaction to him pulling the plug on every soul. The Heralds had been so incredibly arrogant—was this, too, part of their expectations? As for Griffin, Argrave hadn’t technically broken his agreement saying he’d take control of every human soul. Not that it mattered either way—as far as Argrave knew, the Heralds couldn’t interfere on Griffin’s behalf anymore, either.
Whatever the case, Argrave’s grandiose solution to the problem had been a great reset to the board. Gerechtigkeit’s scattered armies of necromantic beings, stripped of their ability to supply themselves with new troops, took more cautious stances, retreating far out of the reach of human influence. Jaray’s threats about the gods sweeping over them as a tide of misery proved to be less actionable than he’d suggested. The poisonous words the god of politics had spread persisted as an undermining rumor. The Heralds weren’t around to verify such claims to the contrary, and Argrave certainly wasn’t willing to enter Law’s Court to confirm it. Only time would tell how the dice would actually fall, when the war came.
Time flowed very quickly, heading toward the inevitable confrontation. Everything was in place.