“Fire, I had no idea the gods were so mean,” the fernian said as she straightened her back and looked to the wizard slightly ahead of her.

“Bah, nothing but heresy. I'm sure Thalon's exaggerating. There's no way the gods would put kin into cheese wheels and roll them around. Why would they even do that?!” the monk expelled with a noticeable twinge of cynicism as the shadows of the Eri forest trees still hung over them.

“Alright, fine, maybe I made up the giant cheese wheel part cause I'm hungry. But they did put us in tiny square carts and moved us around for fun,” the wizard answered.

“That's ludicrous. For what purpose?” Griff's voice echoed back between the trees and small rodents scurried away as they heard the monk.

“I told you! Because Fortuna created this ‘Speed Servant’ game where we had to race each other on these self-propelled carts.”

“Garbage, everything that comes out of your mouth is just garbage, Thalon.”

“Oh, so I lied about the cheese-wheel now suddenly everything I say is a li—” the wizard's justification was cut short as he bumped against Fiona, who stood quietly by the road on the edge of the forest.

The monk and wizard looked to the fernian as the forest gave way to vast fields of the Human Heartlands and opened themselves to her.

The wind gently brushed her cheek. leaves floated, making their way out from the forest into the seemingly endless green pastures and grassland. She raised her hand to feel the rushing wind and stray seeds. “I've never been outside the Eri forest.” Her tone was a mix of excitement and fear.

The wizard and monk stood by her side and as the trio looked toward the vast horizon. “Don't worry, Fi,” the monk said in a soft voice. “It's smaller than it looks.”

She gave a quick chuckle and said. “I hope not, I don't want to go back home so soon.”

“We'll be with you every step of the way,” the wizard admitted as he took the first step out from the forest and extended his hand to the fernian.

The sun felt warm and comfortable as it meshed with the breeze. Above her, the fernian felt the blessing of the leaves and birds urging her forward. She took the wizard’s hand and stepped into the new hunting grounds.

“Won't be long until we reach the Erian river. Once we cross it we'll officially be out of Eri territory,” the monk said as the walk resumed.

“I can't wait. I feel like we have been walking for days,” the wizard said, exasperated.

“We left the Eri four days ago, you dolt.”

“I know, right? Feels like a nice sunreign hike so far,” the fernian completed with a smile.

The sun began its descent down from the blue afternoon sky as the trio stopped by a river rapid; behind them, the canopy and tree line of the ancient Eri forest faded into the distance.

Closer to the embankment, stone ruins of half-built dry stack walls lined the edge of the river. Forgotten pillars of wood dotted the landscape, the ancient foundations of some long-lost structure. In the river itself, boulders and rocks jutted from the water, accompanied by low-hovering river gnats that flew over it.

It was hard to tell what lay beyond the other side of the river. The hills rolled over on themselves and blocked the view as the river gave way to hills that secluded and hid the land of Levan's Legions.

The wizard fell on his stomach upon the hot afternoon grass, his feet burning hotter than the baking rocks.

The fernian took off her leather boots and washed her legs in the passing river, her worries melting further away with each cold water clash.

The monk, however, stood watch over his two companions who reeled from the walk.

“Not used to walking, are we?” he chastised them.

As she laid on her back feeling the comfort of the warm grass, Fiona began to move her feet and splash the passing water with them.

Amidst puffs of relaxation, she said, “Nothing like a good stream after a long day's hunt.”

The wizard groaned in pain. “Just . . . give me a few minutes,” he slurred from the grass.

The afternoon sun gently shone over the riverbank, giving the traveling trio a rare moment of peace and tranquility.

The breeze met the river and flowed through Fiona's unkempt hair as she laid in the grass, basking in the natural serenity.

Next to her, the wizard eyed the flowing water in front of him. While somewhere by the old nearly rotten wooden foundations, the monk inspected the damage and puncture holes on it.

Cricket songs filled the air as it meshed with the occasional buzzing of the river gnats. As short as it was, the peaceful silence of the embankment reinvigorated the travelers’ fatigue as they basked in the natural serenity.

The monk got up and pocketed his notebook as he approached his two companions and sat next to them by the riverbank.

“Finally figured it out,” he said as he sat down.

“Figured what out?” the wizard asked as he turned his attention to the monk.

“The markings on the pillars. From the Minor Allies-Legionary war of a few decades ago,” he said with a discernible hint of pride.

“Is that so? Interesting,” the wizard said somewhat absently as he looked to the peaceful grass swaying with the breeze.

“You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?”

Thalon was silent for a few seconds until finally he broke the awkwardness and admitted, “Yeah, I don't. Sorry.”

The monk sighed and shook his head. “Ugh, never mind.”

As he finished, however, another dared to break the silence and the embankment became filled with noise as the fernian began to snore from her comfortable position in the grass.

“Oh haha, very funny,” the monk said towards the fernian, as she was rudely awakened by his berating.

“Oh, hello,” Fiona greeted with a cheerful smile as she stretched and sat back up, the three magic users now attentively looking at the flowing stream of water. “So, what we doing?”

“Well, as long as your highnesses are done resting, we should think about crossing the river.”

The wizard's mind began to turn at the prospect of what to do and a devious smirk set itself on his face as he looked back towards the monk.

The Sigist’s mind was filled with dread at the possibility. “Oh no, no no no. We are not flying, leaping, jumping, or levitating over the river. I'm done falling.”

“What about . . . hopping?” the wizard asked as he snapped his fingers.

“I like to hop,” Fiona completed somewhat excitedly.

“No! Figure something else, almighty heretic.”

“Fine. I'm sure I can come up with something. Better than sitting here and just praying for the gods to come down themselves and part the river,” Thalon admitted as he stood up and began to stretch and crack his knuckles and neck.

“Alright, let's see . . . Parhon!” Thalon exclaimed as he commanded to the water while they kept flowing.

“Parhon!” he tried again, this time leaning forward towards the embankment.

“I said Parhon!” He screamed at the top of his lungs as he extended his hands towards the water. Still, nothing happened. “I don't understand.”

“Maybe praying for the gods to part the river wasn't such a bad idea after all,” the monk said as he recorded the wizard's attempts in his notebook.

“I'll be dead before I go back and beg for the gods’ help again, my monk friend,” the wizard answered with a stern look.

“I think you just need it to flow naturally. Let me try.” Fiona stood up and pointed her hands toward the water. “Parhon,” she said plainly. Again, it did not work.

“Hmm.” Fiona scratched her head. “Sometimes when you can't do things you just need to let your instinct take over,” she suggested as Thalon eyed her with suspicion.

“Oh, like how?” the monk asked, a mocking tone permeating his words.

“Like this!” Fiona exclaimed as she jumped straight into the water. Before either the wizard or monk could react, she yelled with glee at the top of her lungs before she hit the jagged stream. “Parhon!”

Suddenly, vines and roots sprouted from the grass and dirt and wrapped around her waist, holding the fernian barely above the water and rocks and as she balanced herself amidst laughter. “Ha! Instinct!” she cheered.

The wizard and monk were aghast at her actions. As Fiona began to move her hands the vines and roots pulled her to the other side of the river.

“Fiona! Are you ok?” Thalon asked as he eyed the giggling fernian.

“Mad woman,” Griff said.

The wizard closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. As he focused himself, he could feel the brushing wind and water splashing his skin.

He thought back to the word of power and let it take control of his body as he stepped forward to the flowing stream below. When he felt the approaching strength of the water, he said, “Parhon.”

The wizard caught himself. He stepped on a hard surface. He thought he had missed the water and landed on the rocks, but as he opened his eyes he once again was amazed at what he had done.

Griff looked with disbelief at Thalon, standing on top of the flowing water.

Below him, the wizard saw lampreys swimming, indifferent to the miracle he had manifested.

“Ah! You were right Fi! Look Griff!” the wizard called back to his companions.

The monk looked silently toward the wizard as he walked towards the opposite shore, where Fiona was cheering on the sprinting wizard.

“Nice going, Pointy Hat,” Fiona said and pulled the wizard from the top of the river onto the grassy hill.

“You were right, Fi. Just had to trust my instinct.”

“Hey, book peddler! Just jump!” the fernian said at the top of her lungs. On the other side of the quickly moving river, the monk shook in disagreement.

He bellowed back, “Oh no. I have traveled through mountains that were more dangerous than this. I can cross this river!” As he finished, the monk took out his cane that he had gotten in the Eri camps and carefully stepped over the rocks, placing the cane between the openings in the water.

“Don't slip!” Fiona yelled back as she eyed the monk, who was occasionally losing his footing, only to be saved by the cane.

“Use your blessing, Griff!” the wizard suggested from across the water.

“If you think I'm gonna be wasting the god's blessing on this you are mista—” the monk took his eyes off the path to reply to the wizard. For just a second, he lost his grip. The water current pushed his cane away from under him.

The monk yelped as he began to fall to the water and jagged rocks under him. Instinctively, he brought his arms to his face and proclaimed with a shaky voice, “Parhon!”

The monk stopped. Minuscule droplets of water bounced from the top of the flowing river and splashed against his arms. He opened his eyes and saw as that he was levitating just above the flowing river. From the other side, the wizard and fernian called out to him.

“Griff!”

“Are you alright?”

The monk carefully pulled on the loose river rocks, swimming through the air to the other side. “Yes,” his voice wavered. “I'll be right there.”

The fernian and wizard helped the monk back onshore. “Don't you dare say a word,” he said once his feet were planted firmly on land. “Let's just continue.”

The wizard moved his hand across his mouth, mimicking a bag being shut, obscuring a devious smile.

“I thought it was good flying, book man,” the fernian dared as they began to climb the embankment.

“What did I just say?”

“Come on, give us your hand Griff! There we go.”

“He's heavy!”

The wizard and the fernian said as they pulled the monk up from the hill.

“I could have done it alone … but thank you regardless,” Griff answered with a rare intonation of thankfulness.

“No problem, friend. Now . . .” Thalon adjusted his backpack and turned to face their path.

The plain opened itself and welcomed its newest tribute. But only the plain, and nothing else.

The trio looked around, mesmerized by the vast endlessness of the human Heartlands. The wizard and the fernian gazed with starry eyes and a hopeful grin, yearning for adventure. But beside them, the monk only sighed and looked down in defeat and sadness as he gazed into the vast, fertile emptiness.

Their smiles faded as the time passed. And then it hit them. “Nothing,” the wizard said with a concerned expression.

“No birds, no bugs, no animals . . .”

“Not even the wind.” The monk completed the fernian's sentence as the true desolation of the Land of Legions became apparent to them.

The silence turned the vast possibility of adventure into an immeasurable nightmare of nothingness.

The grass and weeds stood to attention, mimicking their immovable rock brethren as the trio began to walk through them, daring to break their formation.

In the distance, the vast army of grass, the bracaria, the legion of the floral realm gave way to ancient burned ruins. Breaking through the skies, scattered smokestacks dotted the pristine celestial dome, the surviving witnesses to the continuous horror of the birthplace of Men.

Even the Gods’ Palace and the Holy Mountain palled in comparison behind the trio, as their oppressive airs became engulfed by the existential dread and vastness of the Land of Legions.

Farther away, always within sight and out of reach, lay the promise of freedom, rugged and harsh as it was, of the Frigid Mountains.

The trio nodded to one another and resumed their walk, starring into the empty plains and their silence. The flora stood in attention and broke ranks as they walked through them and welcomed these new recruits to the human cradle.

The travelers walked silently through the plain, the eerie quietness keeping them wide alert as they struggled to hear even the faint buzz of flies.

The hair on the nape of the wizard and monk stood in attention like the weeds they trampled on. They eagerly analyzed and closely followed each faint buzz, breeze or crackle. But nothing could prepare them for the scare of their life.

The silence of the plain was broken and so suddenly did it happen that both the wizard and monk felt as if their souls tried to leave their bodies as they heard the fernian's voice.

“Where's everything?” Fiona’s voice echoed faintly in the plain, her tone one of confusion and worry, not for her but for the missing plants and animals.

“Shiigurd . . .”

“By The One, tap us on the shoulder next time Fiona,” Griff berated as the wizard recomposed himself from the jumpscare.

“Sorry. Still though . . . Where's everything?” Her question hung over the air of the plain until the wizard looked towards the monk.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“She has a point,” he said. “It's too quiet . . . I heard rumors about this place, but this is unnatural.”

The monk sighed. “This place . . . it's been cursed for a long time.”

“By gods?” the wizard mulled.

“By Kin?” the fernian added.

“By both,” the monk admitted. The monk closed his eyes and raised his hand, as if retrieving lore from a divine well of knowledge. “There was a time when this land was bountiful. Where scattered human communes and settlements of all sizes prospered and thrived.”

The clouds momentarily revealed the sun and as the monk talked of the golden age of wheat, the trio basked in a comfortable warm glow that drove the dreariness of the empty plain away.

“It was after your tribe left in pursuit of the Leci, Fiona. The humans back then led simple and humble lives. The gods had revealed themselves to us kin, but they mostly let the human tribes be. They would rather entertain themselves with the politics and rivalries of the coastal gurel Leagues, or the musings of rival philosophers in the minar city-states. To them, humans and their peaceful tribes and settlements were too dull.”

“Sounds like a blessing really,” Thalon mused with a smug look. Griff ignored the wizard.

“Then what happened?” Fiona asked, still incredulous at the lack of life in the fertile plain.

“The gods fought,” Griff said with a weary and saddened voice. As he did, the clouds returned and again blocked the sky. The light and warmth faded away. “The Children of Materies, the Elemental Gods, tried overthrow our Lady Fortuna.”

“Fortuna?” Fiona asked.

The wizard looked back and said with a rageful tone, “The worst of them all.”

“Our lady of luck and chaos and most serene Regent of the entire world of Vaelia, appointed Queen of the world by the One itself,” Griff said. His tone held no respect or reverence as it had for the other gods, but rather, as Thalon and Fiona noted for the first time, fear.

“What a weaselly liar. As if the One would care to appoint her … knowing her, she just took the title for herself,” Thalon said. Griff was horrified at the words from his companion and drew holy signs to protect himself.

“Out of all the horrible blasphemy you have said, that has got to be the most dangerous one. Thalon please, be quiet!” Griff pleaded.

“Don't worry Griff. She has better things to distract herself with than following and punishing us,” Thalon said with a determined tone that quickly gave way to a row of obscenities as the wizard hit his foot on a boulder hidden in the grass. “Void bastard whore!”

“Told you,” Griff said, stopping to help the wizard.

“Wait, Griff. What happened? You said the gods rebelled against Fortuna?” Fiona said as she too helped the wizard and tried to bring the conversation on track again.

“Tried, Fiona, they tried. Or at least some of them. The Elemental Gods, the guardians of the kin, tried to fight her for control of the world.”

“Bastard . . . they lost though,” Thalon completed as the pain began to dissipate.

“Yes. Fortuna enlisted the aid of the Obscured Gods.”

“Obscured Gods?” Fiona asked dreading what such gods were.

“Yes. They are in charge of the dark aspects of life and the world. Gods like Nox, the god of darkness; Nialasach, lord of horror and fear; Kanst, god of diseases and illness; Arlina, goddess of misery and sadness; and Levan, the god of war.” A cold shiver went up Thalon’s spine as he recalled the dark gods that he had served—especially Nialasach.

“Why would she ally herself with them?” Fiona asked as a cold wind began to blow towards the trio.

“She couldn't take the Elementals on herself. In exchange for their help, Fortuna promised to not keep the Obscured Gods confined to the holy palace anymore. They would have free reign in Vaelia, just like the Elemental Gods.”

“‘Couldn't take them on herself?’ Now that's a lie. I bet she had it all planned. I don't know what her angle was but I bet she knew,” Thalon mused as he wondered the extent of the god's powers.

“But if they lost then my lady Flora wouldn't be here. Or, would have been here?” Fiona questioned, remembering that the goddess had only recently left the mortal world.

“They lost, but they weren't killed, since you can't kill a god.”

“Pah.” Thalon interjected out loud as he heard the monk.

“As punishment, the Elemental Gods were detained in the Endless Dungeon beneath the Holy Palace.”

“Horrible place by the way. Actually physically impossible to clean and I can tell you we tried,” Thalon once again interrupted as he looked to Fiona. Griff’s frustrated glare mimicked the hostile storm clouds approaching from a distance.

“May I continue?” the monk asked as the wizard raised his hands in approval. “They were put in the Endless Dungeon and the Obscured Gods were let loose on Vaelia. For the first time in history, the kin experienced true suffering. Without our guardian gods to protect us, many settlements were annihilated, falling prey to disease, monsters, and paranoia. The only places that survived were those that already had tall walls or those that were still protected by the gods who had remained neutral in the conflict.”

“Like Sigurd, for example,” Thalon said, and he tried to bury the residual pride he still had for his old patron God.

“Or, your Lady Flora, Fiona,” Griff added, surprising Fiona.

“Really?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes. Your lady kept your forest safe and protected against the tyranny of the Obscured Gods.”

A faint smile emerged from the fernian as she heard the monk — a smile that quickly dissipated as she remembered what had happened a few days ago. She looked to the wizard with a vague and untelling expression but as she felt the cold wind on her cheek she steeled her heart and pushed forward. “Is that why everything here is so empty?” she asked. “Because the dark gods destroyed everything?”

“It's why it's so empty now, but why it remains empty is a different matter,” the monk said and raised his hood to shield himself from the wind. “Eventually, the gods were released. Fortuna deemed they had done their time. When that occurred, though, something else had risen to the occasion to protect the kin while the gods were away.”

“What was it?” Fiona asked.

“The Empire of Len,” Griff answered and Fiona's awe immediately disappeared. “First Empress, Gwen Len Aelia, created the Empire. Through her efforts, the legions began to patrol Vaelia. They cleared it from the monsters and once again the lands were able to grow and bloom again, if under the careful watch of the Empire.”

“Does that mean we are inside the Empire now? I thought they were the other way,” Fiona asked, trying to grasp the geography of the world. Above them, the first stirrings of rain began to fall.

“It used to be,” Griff said. “The empire expanded and a long time ago, it covered the Human Heartlands too. But as the Empire grew, so did its legions, its bracarias. The bracarias were in charge of patrolling the areas outside the core of the Empire, to keep the peace and protect the kin here. But one day, they became greedy. They didn't agree with a new Emperor and simply broke off. Now the legions roam free in the Human Heartlands while the Empire continues to seclude themselves beyond the Hillring and around the Len Lake.”

“Seems weird the Empire didn't try to keep the order on the legions,” Thalon said, raising his voice over the increasingly intense rain.

“The legions had been rebellious for quite a long time. The Empire thought it was a weight off their shoulders, really.”

“That still doesn't explain why no one is here!” Fiona said as she put on a wide-brim hat to shield herself from the rain.

“Well the legions have been in a civil war for a few years now. Their leader, their Maximus, died a few decades ago. Ever since, they have been fighting and scorching the lands here, each bracari with his legion trying to become the new Maximus,” Griff said as he pointed to the nearby ruined settlement finally within reach of the trio.

“Bastards. Instead of protecting the kin here, they recruit them to fight their petty war,” Thalon said with a discernible hint of contempt.

“This poor land. No wonder we don't see anything or anyone,” Fiona said as the trio bundled closer together to shield themselves from the rain.

“The obscured gods destroyed the cradle and the legions now keep it from being rebuilt,” Griff said. He wondered if there would ever be a time when the Human Heartlands, the Land of Legions would ever know peace and prosperity again.

“It seems that man can be just as horrible as the gods . . . Let's go shield ourselves from this rain,” Thalon said. He directed the trio finally towards the entrance of a ruined settlement.

In the charred ruins, Thalon could make out a solitary stable and a completely caved-in brick and thatch one-floor house. Surrounding the ruins were scattered posts, the remains of a once-proud fence. The road was trampled, littered with the marks of a thousand boots and a few horseshoes.

The trio maneuvered out of the rain. Darting around the fallen support beams, they entered the still semi-raised stable.

Miraculously, a few piles of hay remained inside. Perhaps a merciful act from the gods, the ceiling, albeit having a few holes, still offered protection from the rain.

“We should be able to wait out the rain here,” The wizard said as the trio hunched together under the stable’s roof.

“Shame you can't use that magic of yours to make a fire,” the monk said as he sat on a pile of hay and slumped against the wall of the old stable.

“Don't worry bookman, we got all we need right here,” Fiona proudly said as she brought a small clump of hay and two loose bits of wood together and began to work on a fire.

“Resourceful,” the wizard said with a pleased tone as he wrung rainwater from his hat.

The friction of the wood created a faint but steady stream of smoke. Then, magic. Through ancient elemental trick known to kin all over Vaelia, the stable became blessed with the gift of fire.

The hopeful ember, brought about by the fernian’s knowledge and diligence, began to spread and grow, emitting warmth and light to the stables barely hanging between the worlds of life and death.

The trio huddled next to the growing flame, partly to dry and partly to protect it from the violent weather that occasionally found its way inside.

But as the flame steered their hearts and hopes, it stirred something else deeper in the stable.

The sound of hay being ruffled emerged from the depths of the stable. The trio stood to attention.

“Hello?” the wizard instinctively called.

The ruffling continued until it was followed by a heavy thump and a crack that was shortly dwarfed by the ghastly noise of human anguish.

A voice cried from the dark.

The fernian lost no time. She acted on her instincts and immediately grabbed the fire and began running to the source of the cry.

“Fiona!”

“Fi, wait!” the monk and wizard cried together before they too followed her.

The light illuminated the bowels of the dark stables, revealing a gruesome image. Splayed on the hard dirt floor of the stable, a young human dressed in legionary common clothes struggled to reach for his broken sword in front of him.

It took the wizard and the monk a few seconds to realize the horrific state of the soldier, but to the fernian, it was instantaneous.

She felt as if her own blood became thinner as she looked to the source of the pain — toward what used to be his legs.

His clothes were drenched in a foul-smelling, viscous substance that emanated from the source of his pain.

As he struggled to look at the strangers, his eyes showed the fatigue of a man who had not slept in days, possibly due to his condition.

“Quick! Help him out!” Fiona bellowed, gesturing for the wizard and monk to help her.

The trio moved to carry the dying man closer to the light. The smell was even worse up close. The wizard and monk held their breath as they carried the patient and gently placed him down next to the fire.

“Maybe I can do something,” Fiona said as she took a pair of leather gloves and a thin wooden stick from her kit. She looked back to the wizard and monk and warned them. “You better look away.”

She steadied her breathing, focused, and with a quick motion tore open the drenched fabric on the soldier’s upper leg. The smell was unbearable and the fernian gagged in her mouth at it.

Farther away, the wizard morbidly looked down from his hat, lowering it to cover his vision when the sight of the old flesh became too much to bear. The monk closed his eyes to pray for the soldier’s life.

The fernian made her way through her patient, the young man too delirious to even realize what was happening.

She prodded through the gangrenous mess of rotten flesh and the black liquid it secreted. The deeper she went it, the worse it became, until the fernian lost her composure and bellowed out in a fit of rage.

“Fucking animals . . . Flora forgive me,” she said, retreating from the patient.

“What’s wrong, Fi?” the wizard said as he approached the fernian and her patient as he mustered the courage to see the situation.

“They butchered him. I don't know who did this but not only did they completely cut him up wrong, they also tried, shoddily, to cauterize the wounds,” she said as searched through her kit.

“Is there anything you can do?” Thalon asked. The young man's suffering weighed heavily on him.

A sad expression permeated the fernian as she looked to her friend and said with a defeated tone. “No … It’s too advanced. At this point it’s beyond my ability to help him.”

The wizard looked at the dying boy in front of him. “Isn't there anything you can do?”

Griff then walked forward and as he joined his companions. He said, with a stoic voice, “Only thing we can do now, Thalon, is to help him cross the mortal edge.”

“Are you out of your mind, Griff? You know what's gonna happen to his soul! He's gonna be obliterated by the gods,” Thalon bellowed.

“Don't you raise your voice at me!” the monk yelled back. “You would rather have him continue ‘living’ like this?! Until your little self-appointed egotistical quest is over?!”

“You think this is about me?”

“Of course it's about you! If you cared for the kin you wouldn't go trying to destroy gods!”

“Shut up! Both of you!” the fernian yelled out as she took a dark violet vial from her kit. “The last thing this poor man needs, is to hear the two of you screaming. Now Thalon, if you are really that concerned about this man maybe you should ask him what he wants.”

“He's lucid?” Thalon asked, moving closer to the man and closing his nose.

“He'll be. I tried my best to apply a greenbell salve to lessen the pain. He should come to himself in a bit.” As she finished, the fernian took the cork off from her vial and gave it to the dying man.

For a few seconds, it was as if life began to return to the soldier’s eyes. Intent came back and as he moved his lips a few scattered words made themselves known to the trio.

“ . . . Brac . . . c . . . c”

The wizard got closer, and as the fernian held the soldier's head, Thalon asked, “Who did this to you?”

“J . . . Julia . . . Bracari Julia . . . She left me . . . W . . . was . . .” Fiona brought the vial close to the soldier’s head again and gave him more to drink. As she did, he continued. “Was . . . too much of . . . burden.”

“Heavens,” Thalon murmured “What's your name, legionary?”

“T . . . Tomin . . . sir,” Tomin the legionary said as he mustered all of his strength to talk with the strangers who had found him.

The monk approached the dying legionary. “Tomin, who's your God?” he asked with a heavy, priestly tone, hoping to be able to provide the proper funerary right. The wizard eyed the monk with disgust.

To the surprise of the trio, they heard a faint laugh from the legionary, followed by a cough. Mustering all of the strength he had left, he said to the shock of the three travelers, “Father . . . there's no gods.”

With that final act of defiance, the legionary forever closed his eyes and fell into a painless unconsciousness.

Fiona lowered his head to the ground as the monk sighed. “Well . . . I guess there's your answer Thalon.”

The fernian then took from her kit four dark red berries and as she looked to the wizard, he merely said, “Go ahead, Fi. Let Tomin rest in peace.”

She nodded silently and placed the berries in the soldier’s mouth and made him swallow them.

As she looked to the soldier, she said with a saddened tone. “Poor boy. He didn't deserve this.”

“No one does,” Griff completed and brought a cloth cover from nearby. “We’ll bury him once this rain ends. It's the least we can do.”

“Yeah . . .” the wizard answered with a defeated look. He leaned against the wall and stared at the rain outside. Clenched his fist, he said under his breath, “Damn this world.”

The rain kept pouring. Minutes turned to hours and the light of the day vanished as the great storm tried to wash away the blood of the Land of Legions.

In the ruins of the stable, the trio huddled together for warmth as they prepared to sleep through the night. In a dry, far corner, Tomin’s covered body still haunted them as it waited for his final deliverance.

The fernian fell first. Next, the monk, and lastly, the wizard remained seated, hunched next to the wooden pillar as his eyes became heavier and heavier and he fell into the realm of dreams.

The world was darkness. All was weightless as the wizard felt his spirit flying through the broken land.

He opened his eyes and saw that the entire land was fire and ash. The burning fields stretched as far as the eye could see as corpses of fallen legionaries of all races dotted the battleground.

“Hello!” the wizard cried. Only silence answered him.

The quietness reverberated inside his skull and the nothingness gave way to a sharp, high-pitched noise that drove the wizard to his knees. He hopelessly held on to his head as the noise grew louder and louder and began to break apart the ashen land itself. The ground and air began to shake, and as he looked forward from the corner of his eye, the wizard saw the earth itself open.

Corpses and ash fell into the open gorge as they fed the new ruler of this land. A great black stone monolith raised itself from the bowels of the earth and asserted its will over the broken land. The great menhir reached its zenith, and as it pierced and tore through the sky it sent forward an ungodly pulse of strange violet light. Suddenly, the quaking ended. The fires died one by one and every last grain of ash stood in attention to its new master.

The land turned dark. The only source of light was now the faintly illuminated runes in the strange pillar.

The wizard tried to raise himself to begin walking away, but the land held him in place.

The ash raised and engulfed the dead soldiers. From the great pillar, the ash morphed into white sand. The sand solidified and held the wizard in place as a great southern wind blew over to complete the transformation of the land.

A light sprouted from the top of the pillar. The single dot of silver light propelled itself to infinity until it pierced the sky and grew to become the moon.

Horror filled the young wizard’s heart as he realized where he was. He tried to move, to cast parhon, even to call to the One for help, but it was worthless.

The shifting sand dune held him in place as the great spotlight in the pitch-black sky began to scour the land. The light climbed over the dunes until, finally, it found him. A great infernal horn sounded, accompanied by a hair-raising scream, and the moon fell into itself as it returned to the dark monolith at the center of this Null Desert.

The light remained centered on the wizard. As he tried to call for help, the wizard realized he had no voice. All fell silent. Not a single noise was heard, not a whisper of wind, not a loose grain of sand, and not a scream from a traitor.

The light now emanated from the black pillar and as it shone on the screaming mute wizard, a single ethereal voice spoke from within the structure. “There you are.”

The voice reverberated in the land. Before Thalon’s eyes, the pillar began to crumble into an ungodly and foul-smelling black, viscous liquid that engulfed the entire desert.

Thalon sank into the liquid. As he became completely engulfed by it and began to drown, he heard the voice speak to him from within the encroaching darkness. “Finally found you … Thalon!”

“Thalon, Thalon. Thalon, wake up.” The wizard woke up in a cold sweat, greeted by early morning sun and the monk.

“The rain's finally stopped. Are you ok? You look terrible.”

“Wha? Yea-yeah, I'm fine,” Thalon said as he wiped his brow. “Just had a nightmare I guess.” Already, last night's memory had partially vanished from his mind.

“Nothing too bad I hope. Here.” Griff lent his hand and helped the wizard back onto his feet. “Me and Fiona started digging while you were asleep.”

“Ah, right. The boy,” Thalon said as he placed his hat on his head again and said with a sigh, “Let's just . . . get it over with.”

The storm clouds had passed and the new day's sunlight illuminated the silent plane. Only a few scattered clouds still remained.

At the edge of one of the half-caved walls in the destroyed settlement, the fernian finally finished her work as she put down the shovel and greeted her two companions.

“Morning, Pointy Hat!” she said with a half-hearted smile, trying to push through the sadness of their job.

“Morning Fi,” Thalon said back with a serene expression as he looked to the hole by the shade of the wall.

As he gazed into it, a myriad of feelings and thoughts about his own mortality and quest began to flood his mind. But for now, he pushed them aside as he approached the body of the dead legionary.

The boy was expertly covered with various strewn-together scraps of cloth.

“I tried my best to make him presentable,” explained the monk. “Not much to go around here though.”

“You did well, Griff. With this work he could even be buried in the Cryptyard,” Thalon said with genuine respect to his friend. The monk beamed at the compliment.

“Thanks Thalon,” he said before he moved to place himself at the head of the body. “Ready?”

“Ready,” the wizard said. At the signal of a countdown, the companions lifted the body of the legionary and lowered him down to his final resting place.

With a small thump, the body hit the hard dirt below him. The trio peered into the grave and hesitated for a few moments, each pondering the meaning of it all. Before they could dwell too long on it, the monk interrupted.

“So, Thalon, I know how you feel, but would you mind if I said some words?”

The wizard looked back to the monk with a serene expression and said, “It's fine . . . Go ahead.”

The monk cleared his throat. “Iron . . . Just like iron, peeled from the darkest depths of the world, so has this recruit been taken from the dark domain of this land. Like the iron, he has been beaten, molded, and polished to continue the endless struggle, to add his iron to search for others like him, to also beat, mold, and polish them and to fight and strike against those who his masters deem as evil. But this sword was not meant to be. He was pushed too far, strained too thin, and the metal was broken. And because his masters deemed his life, this iron, to be cheap and replaceable, they cast him by the wayside and left him to rust.” The monk closed his eyes and raised his hands to the sky as he continued.

“Lord Levan, this blade has fought valiantly. I plead with you, Master of War and Battle, please welcome this iron into your anvil and forge him anew. Give him the respect this battered champion has earned and give him the honor that his masters denied.” As the monk prayed to the god of war, the wizard remained quiet.

In his head, he knew the futility of it. But out of respect for the poor boy, he remained quiet and let the monk finish.

Fiona, on the other hand, brought her hands together and prayed with the priest, patiently and attentively listening to the monk’s eulogy.

“In the name of The One, The Pantheon, and the Celestial Bodies, I now deliver this soul onto you. Rest in peace, Tomin the legionary.” With a few last holy signs, the monk sighed. He looked to the wizard and fernian, grabbed his shovel, and silently nodded.

The duo followed in his lead and began to push the dirt into the grave and the young legionary became one with Vaelia.

“So. Ready to go?” Thalon said as he picked up his backpack and adjusted his hat.

“Almost. One more thing I need to do,” Fiona said as she scoured through the pockets in her clothes.

“What are you looking for?” Griff asked.

“You gave him your rites, let me do mine. Found it!” Fiona said proudly as she took a gift from the forest from her pocket.

“An acorn?” the wizard asked as he saw the fernian approach the mound where the grave stood and gently place the acorn in the dirt. She walked back and grabbed her things. “I don't know about that soul thing, but I know that he'll live again this way.”

The wizard looked back and thought about the fernian’s rite. Strangely, that simple act, the promise of growth, brought him comfort.

“You're right Fi . . . He'll live again.”

The fernian let out a warm smile that rivaled the radiance of the sun and the monk gave a small nod of approval to the trio.

The light blessed the trio and as they daringly walked through the silent Land of Legions, their step and confidence was renewed. For they had their hope with them, the blessing of the sun, and a duty to fulfill.

“Onwards my friends!”

“For the kin!”

“For the world!”