Dirt fell. Rubble shifted. The ground still quaked and tremored with the last throbbing of what had happened—whatever had happened.

A man lay there. He lay on top of something, something trapped beneath the rubble. Another man? He rolled over, away. Then he recognized himself there, rolling away from the rubble. He had left his body. His soul had become lightweight.

He turned his head to look, and finally his eyes were his own again. He had been laid atop his quarry: a big, hulking man covered in red fur. Or, white fur that had turned red. Was he dying?

No. Dead, he told himself. Dead.

What happened?

His thought was coherent. His first coherent thought, and then it was a whirlwind again. Something had happened. Something bad. Or something good, around something bad.

At least he knew, something bad had happened to that cat. The cat man. Azar. Azar. And his name was...?

He choked violently, violently enough to be thrown from his laying position, forced to see the world upright.

It was blinding. Sunlight shone in from above the ruined palace. The obsidian and ebony palace. The place with purple pyres and dark columns and evil etchings. Her name—what was her name?

Was she dead?

"#&$@*@..." a voice said. What did it say? "$#. @#&? ...understand me?"

Concussion was the word that came to mind. He was surprised that he knew it. When he tried to say it, however… he wasn't sure his conversational opponent understood him.

"Do… remember?" A familiar, flowery fragrance got close to him. Familiar. A woman.

"Faunia, " he declared. He was sure he was right.

Her silver hair came into view. Silver-armored Faunia Vleren. The Silver Sword. Right-hand woman to Akvum. Pale skin, light eyes, and beautiful silver hair. That angular face of hers wore concern for once, not the scowl he had grown so accustomed to.

Akvum. he thought. He turned his attention back to the dead azar.

"Tirolith… fix… have time…"

"I'll… best!"

The pain that came next was searing. It was like the pressure in his ears had loudly and violently popped as all of reality suddenly came back to him like a hammer through the brain. His concussion had been mended. He remembered.

"What the fuck did he do?"

REJOINING

I

Nothing was as it once had been. Nothing was the same. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Cedric stood atop one of the last standing obsidian pyres beside the shattered palace. His long brown hair was matted and dirty, caked in dry blood. He pulled at his scruffy beard as though it was uncomfortable. He snorted and choked like clearing something out of his chest.

But he could not shake that feeling.

There was Harth, the desert at the bottom of the world. The bottom of Kylinstrom.

No longer was it at the bottom of the world.

Everything had changed.

"Serkukan." he commanded.

Just like that, he appeared. A figure in jagged, draconic crimson armor, with no skin exposed. Even his eyes were covered by the two plates that made up his triangular helm.

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"He used Dyosius." Cedric acknowledged.

"He did."

"He… what did he command?"

"For Kylinstrom to be replaced where it once was."

"Where it once… we're in Calamon?"

"In Outer Calamon, yes."

"Almighty shit." He pulled at his unkempt brown beard. "That crystal is… Dyosius is absurdly powerful."

"I warned you." answered Serkukan. Then he vanished into red mist.

"Yeah. A lot of good that warning did." Cedric stood. There was no benefit to waiting here. They needed to discover what had happened—quickly.

"Cedric. We're going." came a voice from below. "How did you even get up there?"

The pyre was at least thirty feet tall. It was a newfound ability as of that morning, his ability to fly briefly using Serkukan's wings.

And again, those red wings emerged from his back and let him gently hover down to meet the owner of the voice.

Faunia Vleren, with sternness still etched upon her angular face. A Hunter of Kylinstrom. Once a title of great import, there was an overwhelming feeling in his gut that it would soon mean very little.

"There's no ocean. At least, not to the east or west anymore."

She was taken aback. "It dried up?"

"It's been replaced by forest. There's a crude border where Harth once ended."

"You hit your head pretty bad."

She had once been hunting him. Now, she seemed like an ally. He could hardly remember why. Perhaps she was right.

"I guess so, " he agreed. "But I'm hardly mistaken. Who else is with us?"

"Marisol and Tirolith. Akvum is…"

"I noticed."

"You pounced him. I guess you weren't quick enough."

"He had Dyosius. Right?"

"Yeah. You'll remember. Tirolith did a good job." she said, and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

He did remember, suddenly. He remembered her placing a dagger at his throat in Dreslon, chasing him south through the Deadline and into the desert. "Why… are you being so kind?"

She looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"Last time I recall, you were fighting to have me executed in Azar'kara. Then trying to do it yourself in Dreslon."

"So that's how it is. Your memory…"

"When did we become allies?"

"Truly? Not long ago. You fought me the entire time we were out here. But you did give me this."

She shut her eyes. A shattering of ice appeared over her shoulder, and through it manifested the slender form of a young woman, in teal crystalline armor. Her blue-painted lips and eyes were visible through her open-faced draconic helmet. Her eyes glistened like frost.

"Tirolith?" Cedric asked. It had been a while since he remembered seeing her. She hadn't shown herself in Azar'kara. She had abandoned him. "Keep her."

"Cedric!?" It was Tirolith's turn to be taken aback. "You really…"

He took an uncomfortable step away from them.

"Ozzod is here, too." Faunia said.

"I don't know who that is."

"So you've forgotten the entire past year, just about."

"Just about."

"You'll need to get over it quick, Cedric. We need to get to Cromer—"

"I'm not going. Not with you." He shook his head.

"What? The world is in a dire state… our world. Put our past differences behind us and come with me, dammit!"

"I can't do that." He wanted to say more, but he didn't. He couldn't; not to a Hunter.

Faunia scowled hard.

“Consider this goodbye,” he quickly mumbled, and then stepped backward into a growing cloud of red mist, through which he vanished.

“Lands dammit!” Faunia shouted and threw one of her gloves into the dirt. “Lazy bastard! Stupid damn…”

“Faunia, please!” Tirolith placed a hand on her shoulder.

Faunia did not hide her tears as they fell. “Where in the hells are we?”