You have entered the safe zone of sector 45,104.

You have entered the safe zone of sector 12,560.

Your facial disguise spell has dissipated.

You have entered sector 18,240 of the Forever Kingdom.

The nether toxicity at your current location is at tier 8.

It took three separate portal transits to get back ‘home.’

The first portal—created by the anonymous mage—deposited me in the safe zone of the brotherhood’s home sector. The second involved an aetherstone jump to the Roost. The third was a portal I opened myself and took me straight to the riverside gully that was serving as the forerunner’s mustering ground.

All in all, the trip took a little over a minute to complete.

“He’s back,” Terence yelled across the forerunners’ farspeaker link the moment I appeared.

I swiveled about to face him. The young arcane knight had obviously been tasked with keeping watch for my arrival. “Where are they?” I asked tersely.

“In the command post,” he replied solemnly. “Waiting for you.”

“And where’s that?”

“Just head north along the gully. It’s not far, you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” I said, turning my steps in the direction he indicated. As I did, I prodded at my familiar, waking her from her slumber, “We’re here, Ghost. Start manifesting.”

“About time,” the pyre wolf replied, shaking herself alert.

The gully was the same one I had designated as our forward base a week ago. It was about half a mile away from the river and distant enough from the nest that the void tree and the overlords were blissfully unaware of our presence.

But while the gully was the same one I’d used previously, it did not look the same. It had undergone a startling transformation in the interim. Not only had Lucius and his fellow nagians deepened the indentation in the earth, they had interconnected it with many of the adjacent ravines and gullies.

Now, the ‘gully’ was more in the nature of a trench—a miles-long C-shaped trench that bordered the river the same way the river did the nest.

And lining its length was the company.

All three thousand of them—bane wolves, wolfmen, dire wolves, arctic wolves, nagians, and forsworn—each and every one of whom turned to stare or salute as I strode past.

I nodded in acknowledgment of their greetings but didn’t stop. Terence had said it wasn’t a long walk to the command post, but still, I couldn’t afford to dally overlong.

I didn’t rush either, though, not wanting to give off the wrong impression and induce unnecessary panic. And besides, this was the perfect opportunity for me to get a sense of everyone’s readiness. My head turning left and right, I scrutinized those I passed.

Nagians, wolves, people, one and all, they were armed to the teeth—in the wolves’ case, literally so. Each wolf wore a specially designed muzzle fitted with stygian incisors. Some even wore studded harnesses—also formed from stygian material. Without the stygian gear, the wolves wouldn’t be able to harm the nether creatures, of course, and great care had gone into their design.

All the wolves also had a thin leather strap fastened around their necks. Each held a single nether protection crystal, I knew. The wolves—and everyone else in the army, for that matter—had been allocated two crystals, but unlike the ones I’d used in the past, each of these lasted four hours. Everyone would have activated their first crystal before leaving the cave. And would do the same with the second prior to the battle commencing.

“How does it feel?” I asked Oursk as I spotted him among a small group of dire wolves to my right.

“Like a second mouth,” he replied, knowing what I meant.

Shadetooth, beside him, grimaced, his mouth working uncomfortably. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” the older wolf replied primly. “You just have to use it to kill the enemy.”

Leaving sire and offspring to what sounded like a long-running argument, I marched on.

Ghost has taken the form of a level 267 stygian pyre wolf.

My familiar’s sudden appearance attracted the attention of a pair of wolfmen on the left.

“There she is,” one said, nudging the other.

“Told you she was big,” the second replied.

While the pair inspected Ghost, I examined them in turn. The Reach Pack had brought all their possessions with them after leaving the dungeon, however their gear had been somewhat… lacking.

Now, though, the wolfmen bristled with stygian weaponry and armor that despite their lanky frames still managed to cover their furry torsos and limbs.

“Be careful,” I warned, “she bites.”

“I do not!” Ghost retorted indignantly, projecting her words directly into the wolfmen’s minds and leaving them chuckling in our wake.

Next up was a squad of Bane Wolves. By contrast, their own mood was somber. But then again, the Bane Wolves were all professional soldiers, and this was the eve of a battle, and not just any battle but one against a stygian force the likes of which the former New Haveners had never seen.

They knew enough to be afraid.

The squad in question was a dwarven one, and currently striding down their ranks, conducting what appeared to be a spot-inspection, was Captain Megtir, one of the warband’s commanders. It was he that had first drawn my attention.

Catching sight of me, the dwarf snapped off a salute. “Hail, Milord.”

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“Megtir,” I replied, slowing but not stopping.

Running my eyes along the squad, I inspected the dwarves’ gleaming plate armor and polished weapons. Of all our forces, the Bane Wolves had required the least re-outfitting. “How are the men, Captain?”

“Ready and eager to wade into the enemy!” Megtir replied.

I doubted that but appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless.

“You remember our crazy run through the possessed prison complex, Megtir?” I asked, referring to the mass prison escape I’d orchestrated in New Haven after killing Castor.

The dwarf captain smiled. “It is not something I’m ever likely to forget, milord.” His gaze drifted to the pyre wolf. “Ghost led us well.”

I nodded. “She did. But this—” I pointed in the direction of the nest across the river— "what we do here today, will not be anything like that prison run, I promise. Today’s fight has been carefully orchestrated and will be just as carefully executed. The deck has been stacked in our favor, Megtir. Heavily so.”

The dwarf chuckled. “You never did fight fair, milord. I remember that much, and there’s no reason to start now!” He glanced across the river. “Give them hell, Lord Wolf.”

I bared my teeth. “I will.” My gaze flickered to the silently watching squad. The dwarves were just as stone-faced as before, but I fancied the spark in their eyes burned brighter now, and that the lines drawn into their faces had faded a touch.

“Keep safe,” I said in farewell before moving on.

“What was that about?” Ghost asked curiously.

“A timely reminder, I hope,” I replied.

“Of what?”

“That this is not the first time we’ve faced such odds together and triumphed,” I murmured.

Safyre, no doubt, had addressed the army before it had embarked from the cave, but the former New Haveners didn’t know her, not like most everyone else did. Algar would’ve added his own encouragement too. Still, it was not Algar who had freed New Haven from centuries of possessed rule, nor was it Algar who had slain the archlich, or banished the stygians from the Reach. Like it or not, my words carried weight, and I could not be shy of using them.

A quicksilver shape, fast approaching, as it darted around the obstacles in its way, drew my attention.

“Elise!” Ghost called before I could.

The werefox rushed to a stop. “Michael! Ghost! There you are.”

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” I asked.

“The foothills,” she replied. “I’ve orders to scout it one final time.” Her gaze slid to Ghost, a question in her eyes.

“Ghost can go with you if she wants.” I would have to release the pyre wolf to Elise’s care soon, anyway. She would not be fighting alongside me during the battle.

“Ghost?” Elise asked, looking at my familiar.

“Of course, I’ll come,” she replied.

Not delaying further, Elise raced off with Ghost hard on her heels. Together, the pair were twice as menacing, and more than one soldier started in surprise as they raced by.

Shaking my head at the pair’s antics, I continued onward.

However, it was only a few seconds later, as I turned around a sharp corner in the gully, that I drew to a halt.

Before me, the trench-gully spilled out into a deep basin. At some point in the past, the basin must have brimmed with water. Now, though, the deep cavity was bone-dry.

But not empty.

The basin hummed with activity, leaving me in no doubt that I’d found the command post.

It did not take me long to spot Safyre either. She was at the center of it all, with Ceruvax, Farren, Regus, Algar, Keros, Lucius, Zekiel, Duggar, and Sedgwick alongside her. But it was not the ten forerunners that stole my attention. It was the twenty other inhabitants— large and unmissable—that did.

Nagas.

One enslaved naga I had expected. But where had the other nineteen come from? My gaze darting to and fro, I inspected the stygian elites closely.

And only then noticed an oddity.

Eighteen of the nagas were bruised, battered, and missing scales. Some were even lacking entire chunks of flesh. They were the selfsame nagas Elise, Ghost, and I had killed a few days ago, I realized.

And they’re still dead. Or rather, it’s undead they’ve become.

My gaze darted to Farren. He would have been the one to raise them. Unlike Adriel, whose death magic’s abilities were largely geared toward golem crafting, Farren’s own specialization was undead summoning.

But speaking of Adriel, where was she?

One of the nagas stared right back at me, and something about it—the cant of its head, or perhaps, the look in its eyes—struck me as familiar.

Realization dawned.

The naga was Adriel.

The lich had made herself a new flesh golem.

✵ ✵ ✵

“This is a surprise,” I said a moment later, after entering the command post.

“Do you mean the basin or the nagas?” Safyre asked, looking at me through eyes tinted a faint shade of purple.

The purple halo was a side-effect of the clearsight potion that she—and the other leaders of our somewhat-eclectic force—had already ingested. The rest of the army would follow suit once the battle commenced.

“Both.” I looked up at the naga towering over me. “You did not tell me about this,” I accused.

“It was a surprise,” Adriel replied with what looked suspiciously like a naga-smirk.

I snorted. “It’s a flesh golem, I take it?”

“Yes.”

“When did you create it? I would have hardly thought you had the time to spare.”

“I’ve been working on it since day one,” she admitted. “Ever since we killed the first overlord.”

I nodded, recalling the naga corpse she’d insisted we retrieve intact. “Well, I’m glad you did.” Turning to Farren, I looked meaningfully at the eighteen nagas lined up behind him. “They’re all yours?”

“Of course. Adriel doesn’t have the skill for it,” he said, throwing his sister a mischievous grin—which she ignored.

I didn’t have to ask Ceruvax about the last naga. I could already tell it was his. I swung back to Safyre. “How do things stand?”

“We’re ready,” she replied simply.

“What about the brotherhood?” Ceruvax asked.

“In place and waiting for our signal.”

I glanced at Lucius.

He stepped forward. “The water mages are ready to begin,” he confirmed. “All they need is the order to go.”

I inhaled deeply. Then this was it. All the long days, all the running back and forth, all the preparations, negotiations and worrying, they had culminated in this moment—with us ready to assault the rift from two sides.

It was now or never.

“Then the time has come to claim the sector,” I pronounced.

Relieved smiles broke out amongst those gathered around me, even though they had to know we had long passed the point of no return.

Meeting Safyre’s eyes, I nodded gravely.

It was all the signal she needed.

“Duggar, Algar, Regus, Zekiel, send word to your people,” the aetherist ordered. “They are to ingest their clearsight potions and activate their second crystals.” She glanced at Keros. “Ker, tell the others.”

The four commanders hurried off to their respective commands, intent on doing her bidding. Keros—who didn’t actually have a command— was the only one who stayed behind. Closing his eyes, he relayed Safyre’s order to the other forsworn through the farspeaker network.

Of all our forces, it was only ten forsworn mages who were not gathered in the trench-gully—well, them, and Elise and her people who had ventured into the foothills.

The forsworn mages were still in the cave with the shield generator. The battle made powering the artifact even more important, not less. Still, there were several scenarios where the ten would be required to take a more active role in the battle—which was why Safyre had given the order she had.

“Ceruvax, Farren, Adriel, begin buffing Michael,” Safyre went on. “Lucius…”

I stopped listening. Safyre had matters well in hand. And now it was time to finalize my own preparations. Turning my attention inward, I began shifting.