Caedric wove a tapestry with plants. Vines, roots, and leaves served as his thread, and the spirits were his needle.

And in the center was the flower he'd gleaned from the scourge touched man.

So, while he conquered and slew foe after foe, Caedric left his vines in them, the monsters' blood acting as their water.

A fundamental piece of nature ruled that the dead had a purpose for the living. As a creature decomposed, its body would fertilize the soil around it, that the plants would have plenty of nutrients to grow big and strong.

And with that idea in mind, Caedric continued to thread vines and bodies to make the base for his coming creation.

Caedric was nearly done looming together his foes. He was far enough in that he really just needed one more quality corpse to be satisfied.

And then he saw it.

Approaching was a creature with chitin so thickly layered on that its eyes could not be seen, and its hand's bladed. It was made from more flesh and blood than the ashen knights or darkened spheres Caedric had previously thrown out.

It would do.

Immediately, like a spider hunting a fly, Caedric tore after his foe deftly, growing and pulling some vines on the way. When he was finally close enough, Caedric threw the vines end-first, as though they were javelins, at the scourge knight.

It stood no chance. Speared in three locations, the monster crumpled quickly, and Caedric retrieved his vines' ends.

As he returned to his dark flower, the paladin of nature grafted each of his prepared vines to its root, finishing his tapestry.

With hardly a moment left to admire his handiwork, Caedric peacefully said: "Helis".

Blood was quickly siphoned from the sacrifices, and power from Caedric. Promptly downing some glade water, he was able to bear with the worst effects but was still driven nearly to sleep.

Still, it was done. Looking, Caedric could see his dark flower nested in a sphere of hardened branches. On countless legs, his creature stood taller and taller as its vines stretched out, creaking and groaning in their red-tinged glory.

The gargantuan, vine-bound plant looked to Caedric for instruction. Its many mouths dripped with rotten, vile poison as it leaned in closer. It had been given scourge blood as its water and was still thirsty.

"Go and drink," Caedric smiled. "Drink 'till your stomata burst uncontrollably, 'till you can stretch no more. Even if it requires you to leap deep into the Scar, do not stop quenching your thirst on vile blood."

'Together, we can fight!'

----------------------------------------

The girl was extremely quick, as far as killing the last scourge dragon went. Ander hadn't had the opportunity to do more than shield himself from the dragon fire before the beast was dead.

He supposed the reason this winged woman had not killed the dragons earlier was simply because with two dragons, defense took more of her time and energy.

And that probably didn't benefit from the girl's armor essentially just being clothes and gloves. If Ander were to equip Eris similarly for battle, he'd have accused himself of and assassination attempt.

In any case, Ander felt no need to comment on it. This warrior was not one of his, so he held no authority over her. There could easily be reasons for her garb. Perhaps it made flight more manageable? She could simply enjoy the challenge.

All in all, it didn't really matter.

Ander eyed the horde separating his friends from reinforcement. It was no short distance, and any path he cleared would very quickly be overtaken.

'A tunnel it is then. I can really only hope it doesn't collapse though.'

Waving a quick goodbye to his airborne allies, Ander quickly shot downwards, drilling though sand and foes alike until he reached a point deep enough to avoid enemy attacks.

Using his magic to harden the outer walls of his tunnel, Ander slowly dug towards the Scar. Every few minutes, he dug a hole up to the surface to make sure he wasn't getting too close to the Scar itself.

It if were a normal chasm Ander was tunneling towards, he wouldn't care, but Atula's Scar was somewhat special. Whether it was a myth or not, Ander had been told that extended periods of time spent in the Scar would warp the body and mind. It was supposedly such an insidious danger that even archaics, a race of humanoids originating from the Scar's upper caves, couldn't go very deep before going insane.

Soon, Ander found humanoid movements on the sand rather than those of monsters, and he decided to make his way up. With relatively little effort, Ander carved stairs through the loose sand and climbed them.

Above the tunnel, Ander saw a seven-foot-tall archaic woman, which was terribly short for her race. She held a long spear, the same that had extended above him as he fought Thalreion. Her mask an unsettling fingerprint, she stood tall, eyeing the battlefield with body language that emphasized pragmatism.

She simply had to be the honorsoul this section of the Rift was named for. Atula, leader of the Riftwatch and Aliran's shadow.

Beside her stood the winged fighter Ander had seen earlier. She was talking to the colossal honorsoul, likely reporting on her fight.

Ander humbly waited, standing still as everyone around him moved. He watched as the winged girl spoke to her master, and the honorsoul gestured back.

When the two's exchange was done, the winged one seemed ready to take off flying only for her leader to halt her with an upturned hand. Though she wore a mask, Ander could feel her eye contact as she beckoned him closer.

Atula gestured to Ander swiftly, the movements too unexpected and fast for him to remember. After she finished, Atula waited, as though she expected something from Ander. The stone armed soldier looked around, unsure of what to do.

He settled on getting on one knee and bowing. The winged woman burst out laughing.

Ander's eyes shot up; his brows knit in confusion.

"She just asked what you needed," the girl beamed.

"When?" Ander said, before immediately mending his words. "I guess that's what the hand motions were. Sorry about that."

Ander looked to Atula. "My army and many seekers of light are out there, fighting, and I'm not sure how much longer they can last. I was hoping we could combine forces to minimize loses."

Atula began to sign, so Ander looked back to her winged warrior. "Atula says she cannot do that," the girl said. "If we move our soldiers out, it would be harder to contain this rift break, and our watch would be stretched thin. Atula needs her concentration and time to shrink the Scar back to where it was, so she can't go out to save you herself either."

Ander began to despair. "Then what can I do?"

Atula pointed, and the girl answered.

"Look."

Ander saw a single gate appear high in the sky, and from that gate came a huge bolt of lightning, the biggest he'd ever seen. As that gate began to close, a dozen more opened and soldiers wearing black cloaks walked out into the battlefield.

'The Dark Guild? Why are they here?'

"Well, you've been saved," Atula's warrior said of her own volition. "You can go back to your army or stay here. Your choice."

"I'm going to go back," Ander turned without hesitation. "They'll still need me, especially since Telin's the one helping."

The stony soldier stopped and looked back towards them. "Thank you for hearing me out."

Ander ran to his allies through the tunnel, glad to have found some hope.

----------------------------------------

Flyte kept on cutting scourge soldiers, even as he saw his seekers slowly pull back. The young half elf could not remember the majority of his battle, due to the brutal, though repetitive way it was fought, but he could not make himself stop.

It wasn't because he needed to continue fighting. There were plenty of seekers fully willing to take Flyte's place on the front lines.

Flyte couldn't stop fighting because in the back of his mind he was scared that stopping would force him to feel something he couldn't handle yet, or worse, that he'd feel nothing. He knew there was something he was forgetting, and that it must have been his fault. He knew too that he wouldn't be able to bear it once he let himself remember it.

So Flyte kept cutting his enemies down. He'd earned many monikers, between the dragon knight, shade butcher, and golden spear, but none of them made Flyte feel anything more. The title he was most proud of was son, but there was some feeling in his heart that said that he no longer held it.

Flyte would describe himself as being fine, but he was really just tired. Tired of adventure, of fighting, and even of moving. He'd rather read a dictionary in the hottest place on Riftgard than be in the Rift at that moment.

Casually, Flyte redirected two thrown spears back to the monsters that had thrown them at him. It was this kind of quick and automatic action that had earned Flyte his names, along with him taking several hits unflinchingly. Be it from shock or immense focus, Flyte simply didn't react whenever he was injured.

Had his body not been growing attuned to Aliran's soul within him, Flyte would have likely died a few times over. The honorsoul regeneration he gained as he relied solely on Nelar easily outpaced any of the wounds he'd received.

None of Flyte's enemies survived any of his attacks. Even the smallest glancing blow was enough for his light to tear them apart from within. He was their antithesis.

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An immense bolt of lightning came from the clear, though dark, sky, annihilating huge swathes of scourge fiends. As Flyte turned his eyes lazily to its source, he saw a closing gate and knew.

Telin had come.

Despite his best efforts, Flyte was nervous, maybe even afraid, now that Telin was making his rounds. He'd invited the man, but Flyte and Telin's fight still replayed in his head.

Uneasy, Flyte could feel his exhaustion and pains again. Wincing as he continued his work, Flyte could feel his body slowly healing both scrapes and deep wounds.

Gritting his teeth, disappointed at himself, Flyte let his allies take over his spot. He was too distracted to fight properly now and was completely unable to adequately conserve his mannah. It was more dangerous for people to rely on him than for them to fight at this point.

Not wanting to do nothing as he recovered mentally and physically, Flyte looked around the battlefield and assessed the situation.

They weren't doing too well. Shades, and all of the worse monstrosities, were slain every moment, but no amount of killing seemed to thin them out sufficiently. Meanwhile, Flyte couldn't find a single ally unscathed, and their healer was not exactly in the right mindset to help them. It didn't look like any of Ander's soldiers had died by some miraculous twist of fate, but that couldn't last forever.

Something had to be done to end this flow. There were only two more leading enemies. Will and the Lord Herald, whoever that might be, so the hoard would be quickly scattered once they died.

Looking toward Telin, Flyte reasoned that it was probably time to find Will. The stronger honorsoul was effortlessly killing the monsters around him, simply strolling as they were fried with lightning.

To add to that carnage, a massive, hideous plant ravaged the other side of the scourge army, crushing and eating its foes indiscriminately.

Standing to look for Ander and Elliot, Flyte caught a glimpse of Tarr, who walked among the shades, killing any that warranted his attention.

Finding new purpose, Flyte began to follow the Dark Guild's second in command. "Tarr!"

Tarr moved quickly though the horde, slipping between monsters as though they weren't there at all. Flyte, on the other hand, had to distractedly cut those in his way down and carefully keep his eyes on Tarr, so that he would not lose him.

Once it became readily obvious that Flyte wasn't about to leave Tarr alone, the guildsman began to run. Flyte gave chase, swiftly stepping over shades and soldiers alike. He would talk with Tarr, whatever that might cost him.

They leapt over huge lizards and slid beneath golems of dark stones. When Tarr made gates, Flyte would bound into the air, finding the exit gates before leaping towards them.

He let the wind flowing through his hair calm him, the act of moving turning more akin to meditation. Flyte felt more at home in this chase than he ever had for the last couple weeks.

Tarr apparently didn't, however, as he turned and tackled Flyte out of the sky.

"Why are you following me?" the archaic growled. "What do you need?"

"I was just trying to tell you, your parents are looking for you," Flyte answered.

Tarr went eerily still. "What did you just say?"

"Yeah, Hieday and-"

Tarr stabbed Flyte in the shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Liar!" The altruin's rage was so palpable Flyte swore he could feel it trying to rend his skin. Tarr's next words seemed to rumble out from the very backmost part of his lungs.

"I've tried so hard to see through your eyes, Flyte. Telin gave you so much. Learning, a place to stay, free from prying eyes. Shades, he even gave you back your life, but you still ran away the first instant you could. Now this? Why would you lie about my parents? What do you stand to gain?"

"First off, ow," Flyte said as he pulled Tarr's immense knife from his arm. "Second, I don't stand to gain anything, and I'm not lying. Your parents were good to me, and I know they've missed you dearly, so I'm just trying to return their favor."

Tarr stood and walked a short distance away. "If my parents were alive, they would have found me long before now. It wouldn't have taken them thirteen years to come across me. You disgust me, Flyte, and I do not believe our values could be any less aligned. I will not forgive you. I'd rather kill you myself."

Flyte put his sword away, raising his fists instead. "Then try."

"Fine."

Emotionlessly, Tarr strode toward Flyte, pulling out another knife. He suddenly lunged at the half-elf, missing him by hairs.

A clear, liquid veneer covered Tarr's knives, only noticeable by the shine off Flyte's mask.

'Poison? When did he apply it?'

That certainly made things more precarious for Flyte. He could probably heal it off a few lives worst of times, but his mannah was already strained from his fighting.

Even honorsouls had their limits, after all.

Tarr fell through the floor and onto Flyte, knocking him down.

Flyte grabbed Tarr's wrists, preventing him from plunging both daggers into his face. He then kicked Tarr up with both legs, throwing his old cohort off of him.

A knife flew at Flyte, exiting one of Tarr's gates only to be intercepted in instants by one of Flyte's own knives.

As the knives collided, Tarr lunged at Flyte again, this time opening a gate to move his attack to Flyte's flank, which the boy could not hope to see. Tarr was able to nick Flyte as he swung around, but he couldn't avoid the punch his opponent threw as recompense.

Readjusting his mask, Tarr let loose an inhuman growl before bursting towards Flyte again, reinvigorated.

Tarr unleashed a barrage of attacks, concealing each with gates to make it hard for Flyte to track his movements. Worse, Tarr was putting up gates to displaces Flyte's own arms, nullifying the boy's defenses and attacks.

Layered in wounds and addled in mind, Flyte unwarily spoke "Nelar", the word coming off as ominous and mysterious, resulting in the cast of two facets.

The first affected only the scourge monsters and shades around him, evoking a simple illusion, really just a word. A commend from their god-king, Rush:

"Die."

Quicker than any foe's sword, hosts of foes fell, their deaths utterly pointless to their cause, but very helpful for clearing the line of sight.

The second facet created a creature, almost birdlike, made wholly of light. It was piloted by a spirit, though it didn't hold the same surreality that came with a summoned spirit.

Immediately, it set about defending Flyte from Tarr's deluge, forming sheets of light to defend its companion from the guilder's knives.

The exertion from his spells seemed to be Flyte's breaking point, as he fell to a knee in fatigue, panting as he watched the light bird defend him. Poison flowed restrictedly in Flyte's veins, exhausting him further.

While his head swirled, aching, Tarr gave up on attacking Flyte. It had gotten to the point of being to no avail. Tarr could not transfer the position of things that didn't move, and somehow the bird's light was still enough not to move through his gates.

"Was it worth it?" Tarr asked. Flyte did not have strength sufficient even to answer the question.

"I uphold Flyte's decision." The voice came from Flyte's bird companion.

Tarr's gaze turned towards the light formed creature. "And why is that?" he snarled.

"What did he do wrong?" the bird asked.

Flyte could recognize Tarr's hesitation. He was trying to organize his thoughts. Sighing, Tarr spoke up. "Thirteen years ago, a rift break claimed the lives of both of my parents, and Telin was there to take me in. Flyte's lie disrespects both him and my parents. I just couldn't bear it."

"Flyte didn't lie when he said your parents are looking for you," the creature's voice was mellow, not bold, as it spoke. "In fact, they are even here today."

"Whatever," Tarr spat. "You probably have to say whatever he's contracted of you anyway. I cannot trust the words of someone I don't know."

The bird looked visibly enraged. "I am Lith, one of Aliran's ten souls, and the soul bonded to Flyte Tenner, son of my last bond, Ithilles Tenner. Of all those living on Riftgard, Flyte is the one I chose, and I wouldn't bond to anyone who'd needlessly and harmfully lie to another."

Lith butted right up to Tarr's face, his reflection shown across the whole of Tarr's mask.

"I know you were just seven when it happened, but did you truly believe Telin's words so wholesale? Did you truly accept your parent's putative deaths so quickly?"

"I-" Tarr struggled with the words as they seemed to strangle him while they tried to escape his throat. "I was so scared. Those monsters- I didn't know how they could possibly survive." Tarr fell to both knees, slumped back while Tears dripped out the bottom of his mask. "What do I do now?"

"Accept them back. Don't let this lie you've lived take them from you any longer."

Tarr nodded vigorously. "Of course, but what can I possibly say to get them back."

Lith laughed vigorously. "Nefti and Hieday have looked for you for over a decade. There's nothing to be said, silly. That being said, if you feel you do need to say something, you could try turning around and saying hello."

Tarr turned around to see his parents standing in shock. They'd been there since Flyte had cleared the way, Tarr had just not seen them. Nefti trembled and Hieday's eyes were filled with apprehension and love.

Lith was absolutely right. No words needed to be exchanged. Tarr ran to his parents' welcoming embrace.

Flyte, now barely conscious, turned to his bond, half pulled off his mask, and mouthed the words:

Thank you

Then his wounds finally got to him, and he fell to the ground, alive though unconscious, with a smile on his lips.

----------------------------------------

Be it out of disrespect or apathy, Elliot spent as long as could reasonably be allowed to answer Telin's question, making the lightning honorsoul visibly discomforted.

"My name is Elliot Aevarr," he wheezed, making sure to milk it.

It wasn't entirely a performance. Elliot's lungs felt like he'd had fire push through his windpipe, and his chest hurt badly enough that even the sensation of clothes sent ripples of pain through his body. Even with that, he pretended his state of being was even worse, simply wanting to avoid being on Telin's radar.

It wasn't that Elliot didn't trust the man. He didn't, of course, he'd rather bet on a quadruple amputee horse's chance to win a race than walk around any town with Telin, but that wasn't Elliot's main concern. He figured that if Telin remembered who he was, the Dark Guild leader might realize that Flyte was also fighting and come for him.

Telin smiled. "Okay Elliot, walk with me."

Elliot bowed down, the action repulsive though necessary. "O Telin, king of storms, do you truly wish for me to accompany you? I am not so strong as to be of any aid, and my words are not pleasant enough to be any more than a bore."

"Yet you carry three swords?" Telin raised an eyebrow.

Elliot scratched the back of his neck, trying his best to emulate sincere innocence. "It is a useful deterrent, my lord, and I am too frail to risk adverse encounters."

"Fair enough," Telin relented. "Now, walk with me. I'd rather not have to put in the extra work to not blast you with lightning."

Elliot bowed again. "I certainly could not ask you to, so I shall relent to your wish."

"Good."

Telin and Elliot walked along the sands, the former frying ever monster that moved and the latter wishing for any way out.

"May I see your weapons?"

'Shades!'

"But why?" Elliot asked. "I'd rather keep them on me. I'd feel a little defenseless without them."

"You can't even use them," Telin smiled. "Besides, you're walking with me, Telin the Tempest, and I happen to be the greatest deterrent known to man."

'He cannot possibly think that sounds positive...'

"If that is your desire, then so be it," Elliot handed over his swords and halberd, terrified.

"Thanks!" Telin's smile grew. "You can drop the act now, Elliot. It was fun seeing you put yourself down, but I already know Flyte's here. He invited me, after all. Also, playing the timid, frail wanderer doesn't work as well when you're right in the middle of a huge battle."

"Can I have my swords back then?" Elliot asked.

"I think I'm going to hang onto them."

"Please?" Elliot felt that his expression might have been convincing, if only he were to be able to show it.

"Nope," Telin grinned. "I'd rather you stay put. Now, where's Flyte."

"Why don't you already know?" Elliot asked. "He invited you, after all."

"Drop the tone," Telin barked out his command. "Just answer my question."

"And why should I" Elliot wasn't about to sell Flyte out for no reason.

Telin drew Elliot's sword faster than an eyeblink and placed its tip at the edge of its owner's throat, so close that Elliot could feel the cold steel wave across the fuzzy hair below his chin.

"How about to balance out my reasons to kill you, you scourge-touched orphan," Telin spat.

Elliot nudged his own sword from his neck with a finger. "Well, that was rude," he said. "I just don't think you want to mess with Flyte today."

"I'm not trying to mess with Flyte, I'm planning on convincing him to rejoin the guild."

'If he's planning on convincing him by any means other than blackmail, he's only doing it that way so as to avoid getting into a fight with Ontin.'

"Flyte's not in a great mood right now," Elliot said. "You wouldn't be helping by showing up, and you wouldn't be helping yourself either."

Telin lowered Elliot's sword. "What happened?"

Elliot looked away. He couldn't answer that question. It wasn't for him to, especially not with Telin asking.

Sadly, Telin wasn't overtly stupid.

"Someone died then," Telin said lowly. He pondered on what to do for a moment before grabbing Elliot's collar.

"Okay, we're going to go find him."

"Didn't we just go over how bad of an idea this is?" Elliot asked.

"Sure," Telin said. "But I think I know how to help him. I'll bet Flyte needs someone to lean on more than anything else right now."

"And you think that'd be you." Elliot asked. He was very skeptical of this plan.

"Not at all," Telin grinned. "Flyte would need to spend years to trust me again, bad memories and all. Instead, we'll go and find someone around Flyte that would protect him and his friend from the big, bad guild leader."

"And his friend?" Elliot was really regretting his position.

Telin simply smiled, his wolfish grin doing nothing to assuage Elliot's worries.

Contrary to before, Telin began to run, not wanting to leave Flyte unattended for too long, but still careful to keep Elliot's pace adequately. Elliot was well aware that the honorsoul could move faster.

Jolts of lightning peeled off of Telin's body as he ran, slaughtering shades and their ilk with energy produced by the friction in his movements many times amplified.

The pair stopped when they saw Tarr and his parents in a loving hug as Flyte lay on the ground near them, unconscious.

Telin's voice rose in a steely whisper:

"Well, I wasn't counting on this."