The remains of Glenheim disappear past me in a haze of fire, broken bridges, and confused Elves helping each other to their feet.

Swiftrunner…Swifty…where are you? You’d know what to do. You always know. You-

A screaming Seedling force throw themselves at me from the smoking roof of a hovel and I waste no time in delivering a [Swallow Swipe] that cuts a swathe of azure right through them. Their crying forms fall to the ground of the stronghold and stop moving with an audible crack.

I’m not stopping. I’m not looking down. I’m not looking at any of them. I’m not even hearing Myra call to me from above.

But she doesn’t understand. Every face of horror or sorrow I see as I run back down is a face I’ve created.

It’s my fault.

It all is.

When I reach the toppled walls of the Elvish commune I smash through the door to see the place crawling with Seeded goblins.

“D-DE-DEEMOOO-!”

Whatever cry their leader was about to throw at me is cut off as my [Glittering Thrust] finds his mouth and tears it, along with the rest of his bark-clad skull, from his neck.

“Is this what you want?” I yell at them, panting through my pained paws. “Huh? Is this all worth it?”

Their sunken eyes show me nothing but darkness that swirls within them now, and they charge towards me mindlessly – nothing but a brood of flailing, wailing twigs and serrated blades fused to their hands.

My teeth crunch down on the hilt of my blade.

“Just go!”

[Repulsive Bark]

FAILURE

“…damn it.”

I feel my teeth clench down on the hilt of my blade.

The horde inches forward, and each of them aim a strike at my eyes.

“D-damn it!”

[Swallow Swipe]

Torn limbs, splintered wood, dashes of bark shavings that spraw from the creatures’ open wounds and then…nothing but rotting corpses.

I don’t look at them. I can’t.

Instead I barge through their still twitching fingers and still watchful eyes towards the backroom door and force it open.

“R…Razzy!”

A bunch of the commune girls had barred themselves in here. Each one holds a makeshift weapon in their hands – forks, knives, even a few torn apart-pillows, and they’ve successfully used the master bed to bar the window.

I have to admit – I breathe a small sigh of relief to see them. Even my whole demeanor probably doesn’t show it.

“We knew you’d come!” the head-girl says – one of the few who swaddled me in that bed earlier. Seems like a lifetime ago…

“What’s the plan?” another asks.

I say nothing. My eyes flick between all of them – their faces smeared with hope.

Because that’s what I’m supposed to be, right? The hero…

“Raz?” the head-girl asks. “What-“

“Swiftrunner,” I bark.

The girls inch back. I don’t know how I must look – my paws covered in blood, teeth salivating with suppressed rage, but you know something? I don’t care.

“Where is he!”

“I…he – he went below,” the girl replies shakily. “When that man came, he – he followed him to the shrine. He – wait!”

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I don’t have to hear any more.

[Blink]

I’m coming, Swift…

…

The ground floor of Glenheim is littered with bodies.

Some elves, mostly Seedlings. Some of them are still crying out, little more than wailing mouths attached to limbless torsos.

I jump through the forest of the dead towards the shrine, and what I see there finally forces me to stop in my tracks.

The effigies at the shrine’s entrance have been decimated – little more than stumps of blasted oak and rock. Around the steps leading to the interior, the bodies of four Glenmaidens rest, barely still breathing.

As I approach, one of them waves an arm at me.

“The Mistress…” she groans. “Protect…the…Mistress…”

I can only look at her fading, pale features and try to stop from backing away.

Her wounds…across the belly, under her hands…those were scars made by someone who sought to disable his foes quickly before moving swiftly on.

Thorn…

But as I climb the steps, I see something else that snaps me to attention.

“Swift!”

He’s lying here, scarred from snout to tail, whimpering beside one of the Glenmaidens by the entrance.

“Swift! Swift, talk to me, talk –“

A cloud of blood is coughed in my face in response.

“Swift!”

His eyes slowly open, glazed pupils watching me with sudden intensity.

“L-little-Brother…” he sighs.

“Don’t try and get up, Swift,” I say, nosing at his wounded face. “Myra and Mia will be here soon, they –“

“The…Thorn…”

I stare down at him helplessly. Then, suddenly, I take in the entire sight of the shrine – the wounded warriors, my scarred friend, and the desolation that’s been visited upon all of Glenheim.

And something stars to rise within my gut.

“How far in is he, Swift?”

The wolf coughs through crushed lungs, forcing every word out.

“E…Elevator…inside…”

I nod without looking back at him, gently placing my paw firmly upon his just as his companions did on the first night they met me.

“Stay here and don’t move,” I tell him. “Wait for Myra, she’ll help you. Then go. Get as far away from here as you can.”

He moves vaguely in protest, but before he can try and grab at me I’m already off running down the broken hallway.

“R…Raz!”

I’ve got a General to kill.

…

My children. Run.

The voice echoes in my head – faint, like a distorted whisper coming from a child playing hide-and-seek.

Palka.

We are lost. Flee.

Quick and snappy, curt commands coming from a leader that’s given up. Is that really it for you, Palka? Are you so afraid of feeling the sting of a human’s blade again?

The mosaics that once adorned the walls of the shrine interior are scorched and scarred – long, thick cuts drawn across their once resplendent images. I see more Seedlings as I push forward, those the Glenmaidens must have managed to repel as they were pushed back, slowly retreating towards Palka’s lair.

The image of them lying outside, fading away like that…

And Swift…

He…he didn’t deserve that.

What had he done to you, Thorn? Except for shepherd me?

Are they all nothing but cattle to you? meat to be carved up and slaughtered when they get in your way?

Is that what humans are really like?

These questions I decide I’ll ask him myself, and when I find that I’ve already bumped into the door leading to the elevator shaft, I cleave through it with a [Swallow Swipe] and charge, seeing my attack slice apart four Seedlings on the other side of the door.

Then I see him standing there, looking down on the last Glenmaiden guard.

“A valiant effort,” he’s saying as he wipes minuscule beads of sweat from his forehead. “But entirely in vain. Now, if you would be so kind as to open the locks on this contraption, I will spare your miserable-“

“THORN!”

My bellow is channeled into a [Bark] that sends him flying back, and I let loose a [Glittering Thrust] that smacks into his form as he crashes into the far wall for good measure.

Staring at the smoky haze where he must have fallen, I bark down at the Glenmaiden.

“Can you stand?”

From out the corner of my eyes, I see she nods.

“Then go!” I command. “Get to the entrance with the others and run. Leave this to the Lightborn.”

She rises unsteadily, her eyes fixed on my panting, puffing form.

“Palka be with you,” she says.

“Go!”

I shift my attention to the glowing orbs still floating above the dias and huff.

Hope you’re watching this, Palka. This Lightborn isn’t running away. Not anymore.

“Exemplary,” comes a gruff voice from the smoke-filled end of the chamber. “I see Seneca underestimated you once again. How sad for her.”

A flash of air.

He’s behi-!

I manage to turn and meet his onyx blade as it flashes through the air and seeks the back of my neck. He presses down, pushing me back into the elevator proper.

And just like that, the room’s become an arena.

Our eyes lock.

“You know what?” he says. “This is what I regret, Raziel. I regret never looking in your eyes and seeing how your failure must have felt.”

His dark pupils elongate, and I feel my paws strain with the effort of keeping me upright.

“Do you remember that night?” he asks. “Is there any part of you that recalls the moment when everything you built fell apart?”

[Glittering Thrust]

The sudden burst of energy from my blade sends him reeling back, and I follow it up with a vertical slice that he blocks with a single gauntleted hand.

“You,” I growl. “Killed them…all!”

“Good,” he replies, stone-faced as a gravestone. “The need for vengeance still burns in you. You may have it then – the chance you were denied on that night. The chance to take my head.”

We break apart and move back, training the tips of both our blades on the other, circling like two predators locked in a battle over their prey.

“I’m not who you think I am,” I bark. “Your beef with the old Lightborn’s got nothing to do with me – or anyone living here!”

“So long as the Lightborn lives,” Thorn replies. “This world will never have peace.”

“What?”

The earth shakes above us as more boulders crash into Glenheim’s walls, sending them crumbling down.

“You know nothing of them,” Thorn says with a wry grin. “The Greycloaks. You are an accident. A mistake of nature. Even you must know that you are not meant for this world.”

I twirl the sword in my mouth and meet his dead-eyed stare.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His grin widens. Though there’s no joy behind it.

“Come then,” he says. “Let us see what the new Lightborn can do.”