A cold, unnatural sensation seeped into Hump’s body as he maintained the warlock rift. Tendrils of malevolent energy wormed their way through his channels. It was like poison creeping through his veins, tainting his essence with each passing second, and there was nothing he could do but bear it. He would hold the spell regardless of this vile power. He had to.

General Korteg approached the portal with his retinue of five Chosen at his back. They would be the first to advance into the unknown. Led by the eighth circle Chosen of Byzantius, few parties in the kingdom could rival their strength. Whatever awaited them on the other side of the rift would surely find themselves outmatched.

The general paused, his gaze sweeping over the chamber, the resolve of his will weighing in his eyes, bearing down on every member that had gathered. “The gods are with us, my brothers and sisters. Do not fear the evil, for it is evil that should fear us.”

He turned back toward the rift, drawing the massive blade from his back with practiced ease. It gleamed, flickering with the red light of the spell formation. Without hesitation, Korteg stepped forward, the rift’s shadows retreating from his form before they consumed him completely. For a fleeting moment, Hump saw the general’s silhouette growing more distant, and then he was gone. The general’s party followed immediately behind, and then, one by one, the rest of the elite forces of Alveron’s Army advanced into the rift. Hump’s heart pounded as each party passed through. He hated to praise the warlock behind such vile magic, but he had to admit, it was executed masterfully. The blood runes of the spell formation hardly leaked any essence. Despite the strength of those passing through the rift, it remained perfectly stable. Yet no spell was without its flaws.

With every person that crossed, the strain on Hump deepened. The sickening magic of the rift pierced him more viciously, gnawing at the edges of his soul even as he formed it into a wall to resist. His essence fought back, but the darkness grew, slowing the flow of his magic and clouding his mind. Forcing himself to focus through the haze, the world around him dimmed until all that remained was the rift and the cold pressure within his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps as he closed his eyes, retreating inward to focus on the River and Waves.

His essence channels flowed slowly, eerily calm. A dark stain marred the surface like oil slicking over water, and with it came the distinct sensation of slowly being drained. Hump clenched his teeth. The formation was growing more powerful, its intent mixing with his own and trying to overwhelm it. The flow intensified, threatening to rip away what strength he had left. Recognising the threat the spell posed to him, a moment of clarity returned to Hump. He opened his eyes. Most of the elite force was gone now. Only one squad remained—his own, led by Anara. The flower druid stood at the front, her face calm but her eyes tense as she watched Hump. Owen and Marcela’s parties flanked her, while Hump’s companions lingered near him, concern clear on all their faces.

“Go!” Hump’s voice rang out, thunderous in the stillness of the dungeon core chamber. “I’ll follow you. Nishari, go with them.”

The little dragon looked at him with confusion, huffing in protest.

“You’ve got this,” Celaine said.

Celaine redirected Nisha before she could approach Hump, the huntress giving him a quick nod before slinging her bow over her shoulder and marching forward. Seeing her moving, Anara and the others turned back to the rift too.

Bud hesitated, glancing back at Hump, the weight of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Come on,” Emilia said, dragging Bud away. “The faster we’re through, the sooner Hump can stop.”

“We’ll see you on the other side, my friend,” Dylan said.

“We’ll see you,” Bud repeated, meeting Hump’s eyes.

Hump grinned back but said nothing. He watched as they left, and then it was just him—the last of the first wave. Around him, those left in charge of the army that remained in the dungeon watched him with awe. Power raged through him, the essence in his body like an untamed storm. The darkness at the edges of his vision crept inward, closing like a vice. But Hump would not falter. His blood boiled, the dragon within him swelling in defiance of the foul magic. With each breath, a thick mist of blue essence poured from his lips, stained by streaks of darkness.

The rift flickered before Hump, growing unstable. His grip on the spell was slipping, or its grip on him was growing stronger. It was hard to say for sure. Hump’s legs trembled as he took a step forward, staggering under the weight of the energy coursing through him. His footsteps echoed in the chamber, the sound distant and distorted. A growl escaped his throat as he felt the moment he’d gone too far, stepping out of the formation and breaking its connection. The spell was unravelling. Essence erupted from the base of the formation in a burst of red essence, flaring through the chamber. Before his eyes, the rift started to shrink.

Desperation clawed at him. Sensing the imminent collapse, Hump lunged forward, throwing himself into the rift before it could close entirely.

Darkness enveloped him. The rift’s magic clung to his skin, cool and viscous, like stepping through a curtain of ice-cold water. His heart raced, hammering in his chest. Blood rushed in his ears. His stomach lurched, the sensation of falling overwhelming him. He tumbled through the darkness, and then, suddenly the ground was beneath him—red sand. Hump braced for impact, only for Bud to catch him before he could hit the surface.

Hump gasped for breath, breathing in the hot, dry air. He glanced behind him to see that the portal was still slowly closing.

“Check on him, Isabella,” Anara instructed.

The Chosen of Emira rushed toward him, but Hump waved her off, his voice rough. “I’m not injured.” Essence leaked from his mouth and deepened his voice. He forced himself to take slow, deep breaths, trying to rein in the magic surging through his channels. The sickening power of warlock magic didn’t help, but severing his connection to the spell formation like that had caused a rampaging backlash of essence.

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“Here,” Wizard Aldric appeared before him, holding out his silver flask.

Hump took it without question. He drank deeply from the flask, the fiery tonic burning its way down his throat. The essence sickness that clung to him began to dissipate, his own power roaring back to life. His channels cleared, and the dark essence was forced out in waves of heat.

Hump handed the flask back, exhaling shakily. “Thanks.”

Nisha nuzzled him, her emotions swirling through their bond—Worry. Concern. Fear.

“I’m alright,” Hump reassured her, stroking the little dragon’s smooth, golden-tipped black scales. He glanced back at the rift as it closed entirely. There was no way home anymore.

“The dive was probably a bit over the top,” Hump admitted with a weary smile. He should have guessed that the warlock casting the spell had ensured it would not close before they could cross too.

“Not at all,” Bud said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good to see you’re so eager.”

Emilia laughed softly. “Bud, you have enough eagerness for all of us.”

Bud’s face darkened. “Alveron is under attack. I’ll admit, I’m itching to fight some warlocks right now.”

“I’m sure the fight will come,” Emilia said, standing up straight to look around. “The real question is, where in the world are we?”

“All I see is sand and rocks,” Celaine said. “It’s a wasteland.”

“Wherever it is, it’s very unpleasant,” Dylan said. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but the essence here feels even worse than in the Infernal Halls. Why would the warlocks want to come here?”

As Hump stood, a deep sense of dread stirred within him. The air felt thin—filled with the same dead, horrible essence he had encountered before. Memories stirred as he recalled when he had last sensed this unnatural stillness. He glanced around, his eyes taking in the barren landscape. A rocky, sand-filled wasteland stretched endlessly in all directions. The sky above was a dull grey, without clouds or light, as if the world itself had been abandoned by life.

“This is the Remnant Realm,” Hump said, his voice heavy with certainty.

The words hung in the air. Hump saw the same dread he felt fill the faces of his companions.

Aldric, who must have overheard Hump, turned away from the gathered Chosen, shock evident in his expression. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve been here before,” Hump said.

Aldric’s shock turned to a frown. “When? And why?”

Hump hesitated, the memory unpleasant. “A gorger captured me once. It tried to eat my soul. Let’s just say it wasn’t the best time.

Aldric winced. “No, I imagine it wasn’t.” His eyes darted around the barren land. “Are you certain this is the Remnant Realm?”

Hump gave a slow nod, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “You don’t forget the touch of this air. It’s like death itself breathing down your neck.”

Aldric paused, considering Hump’s words. “No, I suppose you don’t.”

Ahead of them, General Korteg and Count Daston were already busy, organising the three hundred or so Chosen and practitioners who had crossed with them. The entire force was divided into ten squads, each made up of six parties and assigned specific roles. Yet despite the structure, confusion was evident amongst the ranks. They had come prepared for battle, but instead found themselves in this desolate place. Scouts had already gone on ahead, trying to locate the warlocks.

Off to the side, a seperate group caught Hump’s attention—two Chosen of Vesta accompanied by their escorts. They stood apart from the rest as Count Daston approached them, his voice sharp with urgency.

“Lorissa, I want you to focus on creating a connection between here and the Infernal Halls,” Count Daston ordered. “The last thing we need is to be trapped in this place. Also, see if you can pinpoint where we are.”

The Chosen of Vesta nodded. “Of course, sir.” She glanced at Dylan, giving him a small smile. “Good luck,” she mouthed.

“You too,” he told her.

Before they could begin, Wizard Aldric spoke up. “I believe we’ve already figured out that answer. This is the Remnant Realm. For those that have not heard of it, it is a realm parallel to our own. In the age of wizards, it is said that this world was used as a means to quickly travel between places in our own world. During the War of the Firmament, it was turned from a place of life to… this.”

“This is how the warlocks have been eluding us,” General Korteg said, excitement in his voice. “This is how they attack our cities. They must have found a way to activate the old magic. The gods truly are guiding us this day.”

“Discovering how could be their undoing,” Count Daston said, mimicking his cheer.

The scout party returned, having found tracks. “Sir, we’ve found tracks.”

Hump walked up to join the larger group, looking down the hill to see the scout squad nearby. A thick trail ran through the ground. General Korteg was right—they may have found something important. With the scout squad moving on ahead, eyes turned toward Aldric.

“Tell us what you know of this realm,” General Korteg said. “Anything. My knowledge of this world is only from stories.”

“I’m afraid I know little more than I have said,” Aldric said. “Fortunately, Wizard Humphrey has some experience with this place.”

“Of course,” Count Daston said with a sigh. “My wife informed me that you had an encounter at Fisher’s Lake, Wizard Humphrey, but she did not go into detail. Please, anything you know could give us the advantage we need.”

“I’ll do my best,” Hump said. “Like Wizard Aldric said, this world is mostly dead, though tormented spirits somehow remain. Creatures like the gorger and shades are what’s left of those that once lived here. Twisted, broken things, sustained by hatred and remnants of magic. I was held here by a gorger who had built its lair in the ruins of an ancient wizard temple. Using an artifact, it was able to open a portal to our realm, connecting directly to a temple beneath Fisher’s Lake. My understanding is that our location here directly correlates with one in our own world, but space here is different. For every step here, it is many in our own, so distance can be traversed much more quickly.”

“How much more quickly?” General Korteg asked.

“I don’t know,” Hump said. “I never moved between different locations. That’s all I know.”

“This is excellent,” Count Daston said. “While not as ideal as a direct portal to Alveron, we should be able to reach it swiftly.”

General Korteg nodded. “The path is laid before us.” He gestured at the tracks left behind by the warlocks. “All we must do is follow them.

They wasted no time before moving, though General Korteg ensured that nothing was rushed. The scout squad advanced ahead, navigating the treacherous landscape, while the rest of them followed at a careful distance. Hump forced himself to keep pace, but the essence of the spell still lingered. The urgency of the situation pushed him forward. Stopping wasn’t an option.

What had initially been expected to be a long journey through these barren lands, soon proved unexpectedly brief. The scouts returned with news of a structure—a grand temple, standing untouched amidst the desolation. The force quickened its pace, soon arriving at the edge of a sunken valley. Nestled between sand and stone, stood a temple, yet unlike the crumbling ruins Hump had encountered before, this temple was untouched by time. Smooth, white stone rose from the red sands like a monument to a forgotten era.

Essence stones illuminated the inner halls, stirring shadows revealing figures inside. No guards were stationed at the entrance, but the presence of people inside the temple was unmistakeable.

“Prepare your squads,” General Korteg said. “Before us is very likely a temple full of warlocks. They have no idea we’re here, so we make use of that. We move in hard and fast, overwhelming them before they have a chance to respond. Benedict, have your squad focus on capturing prisoners.”

Count Daston nodded. “Done.”

“The rest of you,” something between a snarl and a grin spread on the general’s face, “show no mercy.”