Theo passed through the fabric between realms, holding Tresk and Zarali’s hand. As they passed over the Bridge, he felt no invite from Uz’Xulven. He took it as a good sign. The moment they hit the ground in Tero’gal, his adoptive sister’s face lit up. She darted from the spot, jumping to crush Belgar in a hug.

“Potions are done,” the spirit groaned, desperate to push his sister off.

Typically, the souls did whatever they wanted with the realm. What they had chosen to do with their time was strange, though. The game they had created was now the most popular thing in the realm. There were now four fields of leveled earth, and well-maintained grass for them to play on. Theo didn’t want to think of it as soccer like back on Earth. It had evolved into something else entirely. He certainly didn’t remember there being two goals on each side.

Theo left Zarali and her brother to their hugging, and went off to check his potions. He popped the lid from one barrel and examined the resulting potion.

[Greater Hallow the Soil]

[Potion]

Legendary

Created by: Theo Spencer

Grade: Good Quality

Alignment:

Drogramath (Minor Bond)

Purify any naturally occurring soil of all alignment-based befoulment.

This was the most powerful version of the [Hallow the Soil] potion the alchemist had crafted. But experimentation would tell how effective it was at purifying the tainted landscape. At least this meant that his experimentations were a success. And Salire was working on the next batch by brewing their alcoholic base. After that, they would enter full-scale production mode. It was a prospect that sent a tingle down Theo’s spine.

“Very exciting,” the alchemist muttered to himself.

A familiar knocking sensation entered Theo’s mind, followed by an unfamiliar one. He accepted the first, watching as the icy archway sprung up. After a moment of thought, he accepted the next one. A golden gate, inlaid with too much finery, sprung up next. A moment after Benton stepped into the realm, Glantheir joined with him. The elven god brought with him a sense of calm that washed over everyone. The heads of every soul turned to spot the god in the plain clothes.

“Beautiful realm,” Glantheir said, his eyes dragging over the landscape. “Your souls discovered football.”

Theo approached the elven god with a smile on his face. “Khahar brought it over. They changed the rules, but… what can you do?”

“Not much.”

“Uh… Oh… Hi,” Benton waved awkwardly. “Nice to meet you. Er… Lord?”

“Glantheir is fine.”

“Tea?” Theo asked.

Benton scampered toward the cottage as Theo and Glantheir walked together. Everywhere the elven god went, he seemed to bring with him a sense of deep calm. The alchemist wanted to drink that in, allowing himself to bathe in the light. It was like being in a warm bath, complete with pleasant smells and waves of comforting warmth.

“Always busy, aren’t you?” Glantheir asked, finding a seat in the crowded cottage. “I can’t imagine your luck. A mortal realm that you can visit. And you’re a champion. I would guess your advancement is quick.”

“Pretty fast. We have a perfect storm of things in Broken Tusk.”

Benton fumbled with the teapot, almost dropping it on the ground. When Glantheir smiled at him, the bear god’s hands seemed to calm. They waited patiently for the tea, but helped themselves to sweets as they waited.

“I have everything lined up for Sulvan,” Glantheir said, pausing for a moment. “Shame Uharis didn’t care to join.”

“I didn’t expect either to accept. But Uharis was the wildcard, so that makes sense.”

“He’ll spend time on Antalis. That should soften him. Then we’ll be ready to accept him.”

“So, I don’t want to overstep my bounds… But…”

“I love statements that start that way.” Glantheir smiled, selecting a berry-filled pastry. “You just know the next statement is going to be loaded.”

“Well, why accept them at all? Wasn’t the Burning Eye an enemy?”

“If I only accepted souls from my domain, my realm would have crumbled long ago. Did you forget my speech about ‘infinite forgiveness?’”

Theo remembered it. He just didn’t know if he believed in it. Forgiveness was one thing, but infinite forgiveness? That kind of compassion would get a person killed, and he wasn’t sure if that’s the path he would follow. “Redemption is one thing, but I just can’t relate.”

“You don’t need to. You’re your own person. Live your life however you see fit. Sulvan will be a useful tool. So would Uharis, if he accepts my cores.”

Benton brought the steaming teapot over, pouring everyone a cup of his custom mix. Glantheir accepted graciously. Theo had been taking the bear god’s amazing tea for granted, and gave his thanks.

“This is strange,” Benton said, chuckling as he took a seat.

“Is it?” Glantheir asked. “The old gods used to meet this way all the time. We would gather, and watch our followers down on the mortal plane.”

“What changed?” Theo sipped his tea, finding the flavor to be perfect. As always.

“The rules changed in the first era. The gods were barred from visiting each other’s realms.”

Theo felt another mental knock. He recognized this one, and accepted it right away. Several moments later, after some polite sipping of tea, the unshrouded form of Uz’Xulven walked into the room. She dusted her shoulders off, nodded to the group, then took a seat.

“Can’t miss out on Benton’s food,” Uz’Xulven said, waiting politely for him to pour her tea. The bear god poured her a large cup, and she thanked him.

“Uz’Xulven wasn’t around for those days,” Glantheir said, nodding toward the Queen of the Bridge of Shadows. “She’s part of the second era gods.”

Uz’Xulven grumbled before straightening her shoulders. “I was always jealous of you. Nice to finally meet you in person, though.”

“Agreed,” Glantheir said. “I’ve missed this so much. I can only handle spirits that want to worship the ground I walk on so much.”

Theo wasn’t sure where he stood in this hierarchy. Perhaps Tero’gal was neutral territory for everyone. Of course that’s what it was. A mortal dreamrealm that allowed anyone to visit wasn’t a normal thing. It was a new era for the gods.

“Yet, Drogramath hasn’t visited,” Theo said, sipping his tea. “Curious.”

“Hah! Good luck with that one,” Uz’Xulven muttered. “He rarely talks to me. Old Glantheir here responds more than my own blood.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Glantheir scolded, like a father reprimanding his child. “Drogramath has been making moves for untold eons. He’s defensive and scared.”

“Especially after what happened to Zagmon,” Uz’Xulven grumbled. “Anyway! I was watching the progress of the undead. They’re assaulting Veosta. Does that sting, friend?”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Glantheir’s face darkened for only a moment. He offered the table a warm smile. “All part of the plan.”

“Why would Veosta be important to you?” Theo asked.

“Veosta is the bastard colony of half-elves,” Uz’Xulven said. “Well, that’s kinda a useless sentiment, isn’t it? Want to explain?”

Glantheir took a bite out of his pastry and nodded. He washed it down with a sip of tea. “The first people to arrive in the world were all humans from Earth. We were all placed in new bodies. Elves, cat-people, goblins, ogres… Curiously, none of us were given human bodies.”

“None? Really? I’ve seen humans, though.”

Uz’Xulven chuckled. “You’ve seen elves, my friend.”

“It’s elves all the way down,” Glantheir sighed. “There were a few people who refused to ascend during the First War of Ascension. They stayed behind like Khahar, and tried to make Earth-like things. Like humans. The pozwa in your town are an experiment to make goats. The karatan are an abomination meant to be cattle. It never really worked, but the humans were the closest thing they came up with.”

“Not sure what I think about eugenics,” Theo said.

Benton chuckled, asserting that he was indeed still at the table.

“Thousands of years have a way of making people focused,” Glantheir said. “Every human you see is actually just an elf made to look like a human. Oh, well.”

Theo couldn’t stop himself from laughing. That was a very godly response to the topic.

“Veosta’s destruction is one thing, but Qavell…”

A loud snap issued from Uz’Xulven’s side of the table. Khahar appeared behind her, clamping his hand over her mouth. “We talked about this,” the arbiter growled.

“Yuri. Nice of you to join us,” Glantheir said, gesturing to the single remaining seat.

Uz’Xulven had a look of terror in her eyes. Khahar remained there for long, tense moments. Eventually, he released his fellow god and strode across the table. He took his seat and nodded. “Could I please have some tea, Benton?”

“Certainly,” Benton said, fumbling with the teapot. He poured out a cup for Khahar, then busied himself by making another pot.

“If Theo can’t know it on his own, you can’t tell him,” Khahar grumbled. “I’ll create a binding agreement with the gods. Otherwise… Well…”

“Otherwise we can’t all come here to hang out,” Glantheir said, holding his teacup up as though to toast. “We understand, old friend. I’d rather not lose this new hangout spot.”

Theo considered the thoughts that swirled around in his mind. He was only a few pieces of information away from knowing what happened in Qavell. But his Wisdom of the Soul ability wouldn’t activate. The alchemist felt it churning in his mind, but it wouldn’t produce the result. He concluded that Khahar was messing with it. That was more than fair. There were some secrets of the world that needed to be kept secret, and he wouldn’t pry. It wasn’t worth damaging the tea parties he had come to enjoy so much.

Khahar sipped his tea, grabbing one of Benton’s famous pastries. He seemed bored as he nibbled on it, eyes lingering on the space between those that had gathered.

“Do you have a champion, Glantheir?” Theo asked, breaking the silence. All eyes turned to the elven god.

“I do! She is a stalwart champion. Has been for hundreds of years now.”

“He has a preference for passive followers,” Khahar said. “And we love him for it.”

“I’m the fabric holding everything together, Arbiter. If the mortals couldn’t heal themselves, we’d all be doomed.”

The tea party went on for endless hours. Theo listened to the stories that Khahar and Glantheir told each other. They were careful with their words. At points, the alchemist could feel them holding things back. It was the most pleasant time he ever had in Tero’gal. The elven god’s warmth filled the realm, setting everyone in a great mood.

Time passed in the strange way it always did in Tero’gal. Theo gathered Zarali, who was eager to make overly polite introductions to Glantheir. Uz’Xulven departed with them, coming to rest on the Bridge rather than proceeding to the mortal realm. That would have violated a list of laws in the high heavens. The alchemist’s feet finally touched ground in his town, bringing a different sense of comfort.

“Well, that was lovely,” Zarali said. “I do miss Belgar. He’s living an entire life in your realm.”

“Funny how that works. What am I supposed to do today?”

“I’m not your assistant.”

Zarali went her own way, leaving Theo to dig through his administration interface. He was supposed to be planning for the festivities in Rivers and Daub. Instead, he headed for the lab to meet up with Salire. Rowan and Sarisa checked in with him, then went off to do their own things for the day. The alchemist promised to inform them if he planned to leave town via the train.

Even on the first floor of the Newt and Demon, it was hot. Theo smelled the scent of brewing liquor from the lab above. He made his way to the second floor to check supplies before sending his senses through the lodestone network. His golems were hard at work, rebuilding the fields, harvesting plants from his greenhouses, and guarding the mine. As nothing seemed out of order, he made his way to the lab.

“Ah!” Salire said, clapping her hands. “Did you get the stuff?”

Theo produced a barrel of the [Greater Hallow the Soil] potion. Salire inspected it with glee. Nothing had changed about the description, but the silvery liquid radiated a sense of power. The alchemist wasn’t sure if this was a third, fourth, or fifth tier potion. He only knew that it was powerful. The perfect thing to restore the land to what it once was.

“Glantheir was light on details,” Theo said, stowing the potions away. “Out of every patron, I expected him to take action against the undead.”

Salire shivered. “Don’t remind me of the heavens. I’m not interested in going back anytime soon. I just wish you would have trusted me to recover on my own.”

“Figured that one out, huh?” Theo asked with a nod.

“I appreciate distractions. Don’t get me wrong.”

Theo and Salire worked to get the next batch of potions ready. The store on the first floor had been mostly depleted from the monster waves, but taking care of the undead befoulment was at the top of their list. Adventurers could do without their healing potions for a few days while they sorted the industrial production of [Greater Hallow the Soil]. Today, they would run a batch of base alcohol for the high-tier potion. And it would take all day. At least his new apprentice was grinding experience like a fiend.

After sorting the lab out, Salire joined Theo at the town hall. Alise was looking over a list of supplies needed for the three-town party. They were rolling an existing holiday, Embers, into a holiday of their own making. Treason Day. At the turn of the Season of Fire, Broken Tusk sought to celebrate their independence from Qavell. Some administrators in the alliance were of the mind that they violated no laws of the crown. Others knew the truth. Whoever was in charge of Qavell City would come knocking.

That’s what rail guns were for.

“I bought all the beer, wine, mead, and so forth from everyone. Including imports from Partopour,” Salire said, poking a finger into her paper. The numbers were staggering. “Decorations. Music. A troupe of traveling ogres will perform a play.”

“Traveling ogres?” Theo asked. “First time I’m hearing about this.”

“Right. Anything else?”

Salire had some suggestions to make the party memorable. In classic half-ogre logic, she suggested large bonfires burning in the streets of Rivers and Daub. Theo wasn’t so sure about that, but he was distracted. Alran Cherman, the spymaster for the alliance, was chatting with Gwyn and Gael. The alchemist sauntered over, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Normally, no news is good news,” Theo said, pulling his spymaster to the side. “When it comes to Qavell? I’m not so sure.”

Alran chuckled nervously. “Then we’re of the same mind,” he whispered. “Come.”

Theo walked with the spymaster, finding a corner to whisper their skullduggery. Alran seemed his normal, calm self. Aside from the whispering.

“The last thing my spy in Qavell said was ‘something is happening.’ Then silence. My people in Veosta talk about a losing war with the undead.”

“How is Veosta responding?”

“Evacuation. There’s talk about Glantheir’s champion coming to save the day, but I doubt it. The elf lord never extends his influence outside of Tarantham. The elves like to keep to their homeland.”

“Do you think they’ll be safe on the elven continent?”

“I have absolutely no doubt they’ll be completely fine. Even if the undead walk the ocean, they won’t stand a chance against Elven God of Healing and his core-holders.”

“The undead are being controlled by Balkor, aren’t they?” Theo asked, rubbing his chin. The edges of his mind stretched out, trying to find a motive for the Demon God of Undeath. “What does he want?”

“Destruction?”

“No, he would have pressed against us. We’re an easier target than the elves, aren’t we?”

“I wouldn’t admit that in front of Aarok, but yes. Compared to the Taranthian Empire, we’re ants underfoot.”

“Which implies an intelligent motive. Meaning there’s a plan.”

“What about your godly friends? Why not ask them?”

“They’re bound in heavenly contracts. Khahar showed up when Uz’Xulven tried to tell me what happened in Qavell.”

Alran cursed, spitting on the ground. “And our friend, mister Southblade?”

“Fenian? He’s in the wind. I only know that he is alive.”

Alran hummed, scratching the growing stubble on his chin. “He was last in Balkor’s realm, right? Have you mentally prepared for the worst-case scenario?”

“What would that be?”

“That Fenian Feintleaf is an undead servant of Balkor.”

No, that would complicate matters too much. Khahar was insistent that Fenian hold the Throne of the Herald. The Arbiter saw a million steps ahead, this would have been part of the plan. Theo still couldn’t see how sacrificing so many people was in line with the long-term plan, though. For the first time since he came to this world, he sent a secret prayer to Glantheir. A prayer to keep the lost souls safe. If the elven god wouldn’t take them in, he would.

“I’d rather not consider that. Remind me to splash him with a [Hallow Ground Potion] the next time I see him.”

Alran produced a vial of the same potion from his coat. It was nestled in a hidden bandoleer. “Ahead of you, alchemist.”

“Trust is hard to earn. It’s even harder to win back.”

“Indeed. Could I make a request?”

“Of course.”

“Double our wall-based weaponry.”

Theo intended to triple it.