The high owls stood around a wide table with Major centered as Sasha leaned up against the wall out of the way. A brownish tan parchment map of the continent, Ailmor, spread out across the surface. Thorin and Jericho rested their elbows on one side as they watched Al Yara question Major. An older scribe with thick glasses and an ink pen sat ready to write anything necessary.

With a frown, Jericho clicked his tongue at their master. “Lloyd is still out there somewhere. I can’t focus knowing that. He’s making a big ass mess.”

Al Yara responded to him casually, refusing to take his gaze away from the map. “Of course, I intend to hunt him and his little revolutionary group down, but they’re targeting our god and its host. If they succeed, then we lose our chance. That’s why I want to secure this information beforehand.”

Thorin gave Jericho a bombastic side eye. “Take it easy. You’re worrying over nothing.”

“Yea, that’s just like you, Thorin. You worry when it’s too late,” he responded, shaking his head. “Let’s get this over with then.”

Everyone in the room watched Major with greed in their eyes. Al Yara started his interrogation. “Where are the other great machina? Are they far?”

Major closed its ethereal eye for a moment in contemplation. “The first is the shattered remnants of Lovecraft. Although the machina was ripped to pieces in the war that ended The Westwinds, the victor collected those fragments and now closely guards them here in Monestate. Lovecraft is damned to unconsciousness by its damage, but it still possesses its complete power. Its current collector is unaware of that.”

Thorin looked unsure. “Who could even own such a thing here in Monestate?”

Jericho’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you were deaf. The Victor of the damn war. We know his name. King Andre.”

“That’s awkward. We’ve built our relations with him so highly. Maybe we can ask him for it.’

“I’m not talking to the king. Choose anybody but me. I’d rather die than go back.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

Al Yara cleared his throat. “Quit your bickering, you two. It doesn’t matter how buddy-buddy we’ve gotten with the king. That hoarder would never give it up. We’ll have to rip that great machina from his bony fingers.”

Thorin picked his nose. He ate his own booger. Jericho gagged at the sight and rolled his eyes. “No bigger messes than heists. On to the next great one, Major. Let’s choose something easier.”

“Somewhere out in the Niben Desert in the war-torn recedes of Southern Zaibah—,” Jericho interrupted Major with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Nothing is more of a drag than tracking through Zaiban sand. Is The Eversea next up?”

Al Yara slammed the table. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll be dragging my balls across your face.”

The outburst chilled the room to bleak silence. Thorin broke it with giggling that turned into immature laughter. He couldn’t read the room and the dread painting everyone else’s faces. He sputtered out and soon apologized.

Major picked back up. “That machina amid sand is Bloodborne.”

Jericho nodded. “And what of the last great one?”

Major grew apprehensive. “The final great machina, Free Bird, is far beyond Ailmor’s western shore. It’s beyond The Eversea. Whether it’s sunken is beyond me.”

Al Yara and Jericho’s mouths dropped, defeated, until the dagger eased them a little. “But Free Bird was entrusted to an order of knights at the end of The Age of Gods to protect it from those like us no matter what. Perhaps they’re based on a far colony or island.”

Al Yara rubbed his eyes. “Is your sense not certain?”

“It isn’t perfect, but I know enough. Are you such a fool to doubt someone cursed to never lie?”

“Of course not.” The Master Owl scratched his chin, enthused by the map. “Nobody must find out about this. Not even the other sects of Rath Ghul. We’ll lock down this sanctum and weed out any rebels before the word can spread… if it’s not already too late. I’ll have Doctor Lloyd’s head by nightfall. He can’t be far.”

Jericho stepped around the table, pointing to his own chest with his thumb. “Count on me for the culling. I’m an exterminator and far deadlier alone. You lot just watch our god’s host.”

Major squinted and muttered into Sasha’s consciousness. These feeble humans… It’s a fool’s errand to fight against fate. Soon, you’ll all find each other lunging at the throats of enemies once brethren.

Sasha mumbled, wide-eyed. “Fate?”

Convergence wrings out the most primal forms of greed from humans. When news leaves this labyrinth, Monestate will fall into frenzy by those who seek to have their wishes granted. Will this villain’s order do better than the secretive royalty of The Westwinds? I doubt it. Pray Jericho succeeds in stopping the spread.

“Who would I even pray to? You?”

Not in this form.

She scratched her head. “I’m having trouble accepting that you’re my brother.”

Al Yara turned from the table to Sasha. She snapped from her thoughts to face him with an apprehensive look.

“You say something?” He asked.

“No. Nothing at all.”

Thorin beckoned his leader’s attention. “Master Al Yara, what exactly would you wish for anyway if we succeeded?”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“I’ll tell you only if you promise not to laugh.”

“I gotcha. Tell away.”

“As old as I’m getting, I know my time’s about to be up soon. I’ve been looking forward to it too. I’m aware though that there’s a special hell neck deep in some lava pit waiting for me. That sucks if you ask me. It’s too bad. I want a peaceful afterlife, and I don’t want my soul to rot in some machina’s realm either. So,” He let a twisted grin show. “I’ll make a sinner’s heaven. My very own retreat in Yellen. Paradise for those usually damned.”

***

Abdul led Isaac and Elise through the underbrush of a forest outside Monestate’s southern gate. He held an unfolded map like a lost tourist. “Should be somewhere here soon. A trapdoor, right? But I wouldn’t be surprised if Ignazio lied to us.”

Isaac rested his arms up behind his head casually. He yawned. “Don’t ask me. I didn’t draw the treasure map.”

“Is this a tree or a rock formation? He’s a horrible artist.”

Dressed as owls, they navigated The Golden Wield which well-earned its name. Most of the tall, thick-barked trees tinted slightly gold along with their autumn hue leaves. The region was petrified to always look like the seasonal leafrot. Abdul perched on top of a piling mound of stones atop a hill and blocked the sun from his eyes. Elise tugged on his sleeve and then pointed out into the distance.

“What is it? Talk to me,” he asked.

Unable to speak, she stared at him as if he were dull before delivering a soft martial arts chop to his forehead.

“Oh yea. Forgot. My bad. “

Isaac let out a sigh. “A trapdoor. Under those bushes, between those rocks. See?” He pointed too.

Abdul’s eyebrows rose. The group departed and stumbled down the hill to give it a closer look. The three knelt side by side, looking down at the closed iron door in the ground, well-obscured from sight. Isaac grabbed at the handle without a thought and went to thrust it open, but Abdul clenched his wrist tight. Tight enough to make Isaac grunt.

“What’s your deal?” He asked.

Abdul looked between Elise and Isaac suspiciously. “You don’t hear that?”

“Hear what?”

He hovered his head closer over the trapdoor, focusing. “They’re coming in a hurry. At least a few of em. They’re close. Is someone hurt?” Abdul stumbled up to his feet, offering Elise his hand. “Hide, quick.”

Isaac nodded, confused, and followed them with a whisper. “I can’t hear a cricket, but fine. Whatever you say.”

They scattered behind the larger of the nearest tree trunks and watched in silence. The trap door flung open, slamming against stone with a metallic ring. Abdul peaked out to see a trio emerge beat to near death. The leader had lost his mask and walked with a dragging limp. He helped two avian knights with bloodied, dented up armor out. They walked off leaning on one another’s shoulders.

Abdul readied Primus and nodded to the others with a glare. He planned to kill them. Isaac pondered a moment, shook his head, and then snuck in an elusive crouch over to Abdul’s side. “I think it might be messy down there. Mutiny? Give me a moment and I’ll figure it out.”

“Fine. Be careful.”

“Don’t worry. I’m an actor.”

Isaac stood up, slapped himself in the cheek, cleared his throat, and then stumbled out into the open. He sprinted over to the injured owls only to trip and eat dirt. The unmasked owl, Arno, questioned him with a cold stare. “Who are you? Who are you with?”

Bending over his knees, Isaac struggled to catch his breath. Or did he? He spoke with a labored pant. “It’s me, Ignazio. And what’s that supposed to mean? I’m with Rath Ghul, duh.”

One of the avian knights, Alphonse, opened his visor. “He went missing quite a while ago along with that high owl. Remember?”

The other knight, Wilhelm, crossed his arms. “Maybe he’s in the dark about the situation then. Explain yourself, rookie.”

“Ricard is dead. We were ambushed by some hawk and I was imprisoned. This entire time, I’ve been chained up in some cellar. But I finally escaped! I got away!”

Arno shook his head, letting out a forlorn breath. “This guild’s done for. We’re being ripped apart from every direction. First, it was the uprising of hawks. Now, madness within our own sanctum? Our own home?”

Wilhelm groaned then responded. “Don’t give up though. Rath Ghul isn’t dead. We’ve just got to make it New Gareth’s sect. We’ll report Al Yara’s delusions to Master Owl Leon. He’ll put those foolish ambitions of Convergence to rest.”

Hearing that cursed word, “Convergence”, put butterflies in Isaac’s stomach. Images of his now ashen home in The Westwinds painted his mind. Without fail in history, its reemergence beckoned the worst of fates. It ravaged lives and created hells like an indiscriminate force of nature.

Isaac took a hesitant step back, breaking character. “Why mention such a thing? What’s happened? You… don’t mean?”

Alphonse exchanged a suspicious look with Wilhelm before shrugging. “We napped some hawk girl not long ago. Turns out she’d contracted a great machina. Not only that. It’s Major himself.”

Isaac’s mouth hung agape as the knight continued with a face riddled with confusion. “When Al Yara found out, instead of killing her and breaking that dagger like any man with sense would, he locked himself away to obsess over bringing that god to Convergence. He’s gone fucking mad and, somehow, our strongest have decided to back him instead of doing the right thing.”

“So, you’re saying that this guild’s been split in two over some girl? Was her name perhaps Sasha?”

“Exactly and, yea, maybe that was her name. Or maybe it was Sarah. I don’t get how you’d know that, but I don’t care enough to ask at this point.”

He looked at the trapdoor with furrowed brows and warned Isaac. “Ignazio, you shouldn’t go down there. Jericho will kill you on a whim even if you obey. He’s insane too but in a different way hard to explain.”

“Jericho of all people insane? I never noticed.”

“You must be a dimwit then. He’s got a big hard on for the number seven and only speaks seven syllables at a time. Hell, he probably has seven nuts and nipples too. That’s not normal, right Wilhelm?”

Wilhelm nodded with enthusiasm and added, “Not at all. Normal humans only have two nuts and nipples.”

Alphonse did a double take at his partner and then sighed. “Anyway, forget about this place. You should come to New Gareth with us.”

Isaac contemplated his request seriously for a moment, but then remembered that he wasn’t Ignazio or an owl. He shook his head. “Sorry, but I want to see what’s going on with my own eyes. Thanks for the warning though.”

“Well, it was good knowing you. Might as well kill yourself then. Good luck.” Alphonse gave an unenthused wave to Isaac before motioning for the other two to follow him.

As they slowly went on their way, Isaac looked back to where his partners hid in the trees. He saw Abdul unmasked. The man stood beside the trunk without a care for whether he was spotted. Then he saw Abdul’s haunted, frigid expression. Isaac never saw such a thousand-yard stare even in the war that destroyed his motherland.

Abdul approached, locked onto the centered owl, Arno. He ignored Isaac’s existence until he got in the way. Isaac stopped his pursuit with a firm grip on the shoulder and harsh whisper. “What are you doing? Ever heard that saying? The enemy of your enemy is your friend?”

Abdul stared down Isaac as if he were a bug. “Did you not hear what that one said?”

“I didn’t.”

“Under his breath just now. ‘I knew that girl Sasha would be trouble the night I was ordered to kidnap her.’ I heard him. I really did.” His expression twisted further to show painful anguish. “Do you know what that means?”

Isaac audibly swallowed. In that moment, he understood everything. “Yes, I do.”

“He did it. That man killed my brother. The wine cabinet. The fucking wine cabinet. Randle’s wine cabinet. The wine cabinet.”

Isaac let go of his shoulder and looked off into the distance. “I suppose I can’t stop you then.”

As Abdul stalked the escaped owls, Isaac left him and returned to Elise’s side behind the trees. She looked worried, but Isaac couldn’t tell if for her ally or foe. Isaac rested his back up against the bark and slid down to his butt. Elise continued to watch Abdul’s back. She watched him break out into a wild sprint alerting the owls. He spewed devouring fire in a maddened rage of hacking and slashing.

Who screamed louder? The killer or killed? In that moment, who was more damned?

Horror spread across Elise’s face. She snapped her focus away from it all to Isaac who closed his eyes tight, plugging his ears. He mumbled something. Something too quiet for her to hear.