Johann was an angry child, orphaned after the world was reborn. He lacked security, unsure was his way, but kindness opened many doors for him. It was his kindness that brought him to me, his willingness to sacrifice. If only I had seen the evil in him then, perhaps things would be different.

-thoughts of the first elder

Dorian burst forth to the sky, stomach twisting as gravity tried to exact its force on him and failed. Airborne, he kept his eyes locked on the platform, on the black robed figure standing there with poor posture, as though despite his youth he still bore the stresses of an old man. A small part of Dorian didn’t want to fight his friend, even if Ken was just a vessel. The rest of him knew the truth, if Ken was still in there, he wouldn’t want to bear witness to the horrors Johann would unleash with his body. Even worse, he would know that his body would be used as a tool to bring pain to the world. That wasn't Ken, Ken was kindness, patience, and acceptance, even if he enjoyed debate, it was never done maliciously. Ken wanted light to engulf the world, not darkness.

As he ascended beyond Johann's platform Dorian sent down several tendrils of Shade to stabilize himself. Floating with telekinesis could sap the calcium right out of his bones at an alarming rate, even what he'd already done likely drained his bloodstream of immediate calcium. Danny had epitomized that fate, one that Dorian couldn't afford at that moment. Looking down at Johann filled Dorian with two conflicting emotions. Pity, for his friend that had been so greatly wronged, and rage for the entity that deigned to steal another life for himself despite the countless he'd already taken. I won’t allow it.

"Johann! The Gods are waiting!" Dorian roared, Shade forming in both hands. One gripped by the base of a loop like a sword with a hand guard, the other held by the point, the loop honed sharp like an axe.

In the distance, two colossi tore into each other, their bellows of pain and fury rippling through the chaos below. On the Colosseum floor, most of the Valley's entire population began to move, just as light from the four atop the rise poured into the black construct of Dorian's making.

Instinct jolted him back, just in time to siphon the heat from an onrushing fireball. Below, Johann scowled up at him. Then, with impossible speed, he shot skyward to meet Dorian in battle.

Rand watched proudly as his son stood for the entire Valley. The cacophony of keening voices, the frenzied squawking of the possessed below, none of it could pull his attention away. Not when the black-robed figure of the new Elder hurtled a fireball at Dorian. Not when his son, eyes glowing an unnatural green even beneath the midday sun, reached out and snuffed the flame like water sizzling on a searing pan. Not even when, with impossible speed, the Elder surged through the sky to clash with him.

A hand on his shoulder told him that his wife was concerned too. Her fingers were firm, steady, but he knew her too well to miss the slight tremor beneath them. She wouldn’t risk their own lives just to watch, but even she couldn’t quite look away.

"Don't worry, Rand," she murmured. "He'll be fine. He has my will, after all."

"And your good looks." He grinned, turning to her. In the corner of his eye, the movement below intensified as the Elder’s attack met the raw force of his son’s defiance.

For a moment, Rita just looked at him, her expression shifting. There was something there—something heavy. When she spoke again, her voice was low, deliberate.

“There’s something I haven’t told you, Rand.” She hesitated, searching his face. “I... I just don’t know if we’ll ever have another chance.”

Rand blinked at the weight in her words, at the unshakable conviction in her gaze. He felt it, deep in his chest—that quiet pull of inevitability. He swallowed, straightened.

"I'll hear yours," he said, "if you'll hear mine."

She took a breath, long and steady. "My boon," she admitted, "was to become normal. As though I were never a vessel. I lost my Primes. Lost the ability to touch my own source. And part of that boon… was to remove any memory of what I was before I won. As if I had never left the House of Hunt." She exhaled. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Rand was quiet, absorbing the confession. It wasn’t what he expected, but it wasn’t bad. Not in the way she seemed to fear. Yes, it meant their life together had been built on a foundation neither of them fully understood, but… it didn’t change what they had. It didn’t change her.

She was still his Rita. The mother of his children. The fire that warmed his nights and challenged his days. His partner, his burden-bearer, as much as he was hers.

He took his own breath then, long and steady. His turn.

"I threw our match," Rand said, holding her gaze.

She tilted her head back and laughed, the sound rich and full, but it trailed off when she saw the look in his eye.

Rand was a patient man, a kind man. A man of duty and responsibility. He was seldom serious. But when he was… it was never for a joke.

She studied him, something flickering behind her gaze. Understanding, maybe. A slow realization.

“I’ve lied to you for a long time, Rita,” he said, voice steady. “Your lie is little compared to mine.”

Rita didn’t hesitate. She didn’t get angry, or pull away. She just stepped forward, placed a hand against his chest, and said, “Like I give a damn. Now kiss me, you big dumb oaf.”

And he did.

It was desperate, wild. The kind of kiss that ignited the soul, the kind that knew the weight of now, the kind that burned brighter than the need for air, or life, or reason.

It was their first kiss, all over again.

Had the world allowed, they might have stayed that way forever. But the crowd below was growing louder, the madness creeping closer. Rita broke away, breathless but grinning.

"Now," she said, her voice a playful purr, "show me what you’ve been hiding all this time. And do it by keeping our sons safe."

Her eyes flickered with something sharp, something wicked. "Impress me, and I might be willing to give you a rematch."

Rand grinned back, his own was broad and goofy, mimicking hers like a boy caught up in a schoolyard crush. She had always looked so much better wearing that grin.

She tilted her head, assessing him, then dropped her voice just enough to make his stomach flip.

“I’ll even let you pick the place. Whether it be on the arena floor,” she winked, “or the bedchamber.”

Rand’s ears went red. His grip on his Shade faltered for the briefest moment before he caught himself. Gods, had she always been this dangerous?

Rita turned before he could respond, drawing a blackened shape from within herself, an elongated figure-eight, her Shade forming into something fluid, something deadly. She twirled it once, let it settle into her palm, and took a stance. Then, she was gone. Rand followed.

He reached deep into himself, let his instincts guide him. His Shade stretched, curved like a wicked crescent, sharp at both ends. Then, without thinking, he pulled, elongating it further, shaping it beyond what should have been possible. He didn’t know how he was doing it, only that his body knew. His memory knew.

And oh, it felt good. He gripped his source, and light poured from him. It surged through his limbs, igniting something young inside him. Strong. As he stepped into the fight, into the storm of bodies, a laugh bubbled up from his chest.

Gods, he thought, it feels good to feel so young.

Kurt’s eyes darted everywhere, trying to track it all, but it was too much. The battlefield was madness, his parents battling like seasoned warriors, Dorian soaring through the air, torn between hurling and being hurled, and the titans... Gods above, the titans were reshaping the very land.

Then there was her. The one that managed to capture his heart, and whatever feeling he had toward her, it demanded he pay her mind. Quena looked so pale that he thought she'd topple over at any moment. He wanted to go to her, to catch her before she collapsed, but the stream of green light tethering them in place held him back. She looked like she could crumble at any moment, yet her expression was iron, unshakable. Kurt grit his teeth and focused on his Gia.

The other two, Ingrid and... whatever his name was wore similar expressions. Faces determined, likely trying to fight that giddy feeling one got when touching the light. Ingrid was focused, but she stared upwards, likely watching Dorian's every move. What's his name was looking at Kurt, however. Feeling awkward, Kurt started to turn his attention away when the other guy winked at him. Wow, Kurt thought, and I thought I had bad timing.

Dorian braced himself, gritting his teeth as he readied for another clash. Johann wasn’t just dangerous, he was relentless. A man didn’t live as long as he had without being damn good at survival.

Their battle was a mirror of the titanic struggle below, their bond reflected in the war waged by the beasts. Where Ohmer and Bacchus fought with raw, unrestrained fury, Dorian and Johann fought with control. Their war wasn’t one of reckless abandon, it couldn’t be.

If either of them unleashed their Primes the way the colossi did, their bodies would tear themselves apart in minutes. This was a fight of attrition. Of baiting. Of raw, unrelenting power.

And Johann, for all his cruelty, had plenty of that to spare.

Some Primes functioned only internally, making certain abilities fair game, fortitude, telepathy, anything that didn’t manifest physically. External forces, like time manipulation or telekinesis, were dead on arrival. The moment one of them attempted to exert control over the other, it was countered, nullified, erased.

Heat manipulation was different. It was localized, subtle, an ongoing war of siphons and counter-siphons. If Dorian could sense the point where Johann drew energy, he could sever it with a well-placed strike. But there was no rhythm to it. No pattern. Fires were easier to counter, but only after they erupted into existence.

Eventually, Ken’s body would burn through its magnesium reserves. The question was when. Hours? Days? If Johann was the most efficient energy manipulator to ever walk the earth, it might take forever. Hours before his muscles weakened. Days before his heart gave its final, fatal spasm. Dorian clenched his fists. He wasn’t willing to wait that long.

Dorian didn't have days, he had minutes, but every time Dorian turned to unleash his own volley of heat, Johann was there, wicked tendrils weaving beyond Dorian's defenses. Every time, Dorian would erupt with light, shunning the blackness back or stealing it, but there was always more. This went on for what felt like an eternity, though it had likely only been a few minutes. He was getting frustrated, and knew he shouldn't give in to the sudden disdain he felt.

“I grow tired of these games, betrayer.” Dorian sent Johann, his opponent stalling out.

“Oh, my sweet succulent piglet, the games have only just begun!” Dorian received as Johann launched himself towards Dorian.

Dorian braced with his Shade as best he could, but though one's Shade was hard it was only as strong as what it was braced against. In this case it was Dorian and the stone of the Colosseum, and even though he was fortified by his Prime, so was Johann. Dorian swiped both his weapons, his makeshift ax and sword, in a crossing motion as his opponents body came close. Johann had expected as much and flung his own tendrils out in mass to either side, engulfing Dorian's Shade and nullifying his attack. Johann's body collided with Dorian's. The world blurred. The sky tilted. Then they were falling, hurtling toward the Wilds below in a whirlwind of tangled limbs and roiling blackness.

Rand was alive like he never had been. His bulky body moving in a way he thought lost to him by time. He twisted, struck another foe, turned to parry one black eyed madman as another fell to the light that erupted from his free hand. There was a new sense in himself, and that sense stretched to everything around him, with exception to the stone of the Colosseum he could feel where everyone was. His wife was busy dispatching a woman who had felled a Kul and was busy tearing him apart with her bare hands. Kurt was pouring his own life's energy into that bit of whatever that Dorian had made, and-

“They are called the Mainades, and they tear the flesh of their sacrifice. He calls it sparagmos, which is the second stage of their madness. When they commit omophagia and eat the flesh, the host becomes tied to the infestation permanently.”

Rand would have shit himself right there if there weren't a horde of angry “Mainades” trying to kill him. The voice was heard but not with his ears and it reminded him of...

He heard a sound behind himself and blindly swung his Shade. He felt it pass through something, but didn't have time to find out what as he followed through with his movement, lopping off the arm of the next poor sod to stand against him. He was Randall Cook, the greatest spear man to ever walk the Valley, and his presence would make a difference. To the Valley, to his wife, to his sons- “yes, for your sons,” the voice echoed.

Rand couldn't help but agree as he threw himself back into the melee.

Dorian tumbled through the air like a jagged stone, wind resistance doing little to slow his spiraling descent. The world spun. Sky. Earth. Sky. Earth. Then, impact.

He struck the ground hard, bouncing once, twice, three times before he slammed into an oak with bone-rattling force. His body rebounded off the thick trunk, momentum bleeding away as he crumpled into the underbrush.

Dazed, he rose groggily, vision swimming as he fought to find his bearings. The Colosseum was distant now, Gwendon little more than a smudge against the horizon. The scent of dead leaves and damp earth filled his nostrils, he had landed just past the tree line of the Wilds. Strangely, comfort settled over him. This was home. The scent, the silence, the primal energy of the Wilds pulsed through his body, grounding him.

Exhaling slowly, he looked at the bowed section at the base of the oak that had slowed his rebounding body, and felt a pang of sadness that the oak would likely die for it. The indentation told him he'd be dead ten-times over if he hadn't been fortifying his body with his Prime, further cementing a building fear that he might lose consciousness.

“I know of you, Dorian Hook!” Came the voice of the Grand Elder. “I'm playing with his memories right now, and oh so sweet they are. You know, you were one of the reasons he agreed.” He began laughing maniacally, his voice echoing from somewhere above. Dorian didn't move a muscle, not in fear or hesitation, but with patience.

Dorian responded with his telepathy, rather than giving away his location, and sent, “you know nothing, betrayer!”

The laughter cut off abruptly.

Johann was on him in an instant, his Shade snapping like a whip. Dorian barely had time to brace before the attack came, missing by a fraction of an inch but striking the trees behind him with enough force to shatter trunks like kindling.

Dorian didn’t retreat. He gripped his Shade, drawing from the wellspring of his Primes, and surged forward. His strike connected, shockingly, sending Johann hurtling backward.

Now it was Dorian's turn to take the offensive. Hesitant to do so, Dorian gripped his Prime in time manipulation, accelerating his body six fold. He was hesitant because without paying close attention his skin could harden up like stone in the blink of an eye, sloughing off of him like a meat suit the first time he tried to move. Regardless, he gambled it to take full advantage of Johann's downed state.

To anyone else, it would seem that he became a blur. To Dorian, however, everything slowed to a crawl. He ran, using his strength fortification to keep the wind from cutting at his face. Thinking on the fly, he sent a thin layer of Shade to cover his eyes, as even bits of dust or dirt could cause serious damage at that speed. Though he intended this as a precaution, the result was something entirely different. His Shade, instead of behaving like protective eye wear, molded itself to one of his eyes that already had Gia sitting in the iris. His vision twisted slightly, one half baked in light, the other seeing something he didn't understand. Black tendrils thick as trees seemed to grow from where Johann was and stretched outward. Following it, he spotted the two colossi, Ohmer ripping in to the tentacled creature like a predator before a feast. From Ohmer stretched another tendril, this one light rather than dark. It stretched all the way back to Dorian himself.

Grinning to himself, Dorian gripped his Shade, molding it to the shape of a staff. Even though he was moving at ridiculous speeds, he could still see the pulsing coming from their bonds to their colossi, their rhythm like that of a heartbeat, both fueling themselves and feeding the other. Throwing caution to the wind, Dorian was on top of Johann, smashing down with every bit of might he possessed. Over and over, he swung and connected. To Ken's face, his shoulder, his chest, flinging him down harder and harder. Johann brought up a hand, but Dorian knocked it away. When his vision began to blur from his now brittle hair falling over his eyes, he was forced to let go of his Prime.

Had he known that Johann had just activated his own, Dorian likely wouldn't have dropped his. Faster than he could follow, a hand came up, a dark light emanated there. For just a moment Dorian could see the shape of the runes that rested against Johann's skin. Three interconnected triangles that ran infinitely between the shapes, a part of Ohmer's memories gave him a word, valknut, that went with a warning. Unfortunately, Dorian's brain hadn't registered what that warning meant before it was too late.

The dark light that had coalesced pulsed, then erupted with sheer force. It flowed out of his hand like a waterfall breaking upon rocks below, but instead of rocks it was Dorian that the force broke upon. Everything blurred as he was flung from his surroundings.

Kurt almost faltered as the ground beneath him tried to shake him from the top of the rise. Still, he funneled his life's force into the black construct that seemed to resemble a knot of thorns. Looking around, he found the reason for the earth shaking so violently.

The two colossi had landed on Gwendon. The city, its buildings only small compared to the Colosseum, now lay in ruins. The two beasts were still fighting, still clawing and ensnaring, still looking for the final blow. The monstrosity that climbed out of Dorian hardly resembled the cute little Garru that used to scare the lights out of Kurt for laughs. When he thought about that time, what seemed just yesterday, he was filled with the desire to smile for how simple that era of his life was.

Now Ohmer wasn't about practical jokes, it was flapping it's wings and standing taller, doing all it could to prevent the amalgam of blackness from getting a top-down angle on him. As Ohmer's claws raked at the black and his jaws seemed to tear at another tentacle, those wings beat so hard that debris the size of boulders were flung away from it. It was completely terrifying to see the beasts fight, it made Kurt feel small and insignificant before the vastness of such massive entities.

Movement out of the corner of Kurt's eye had him ducking before he even knew what was going on. He couldn't break the link of light funneling from his body in to the construct, but he could still move. A black eyed woman had the look of one gone rabid, but instead of frothing white, black goop dripped from her snarling mouth. She lunged again, instinctively Kurt tried to grip his Shade but found he couldn't. Just as the the woman's hands were about to grip him, a black spear shot through her face. Her whole body dropped, feet coming out from under her. She was pinned to the ground as she her body spasmed once before going limp. Kurt's jaw dropped, though he wouldn't have noticed if not for what happened next.

Light beamed over the woman, Kurt only noticing now that the spear had a slight curvature to it. Following the light back to it's source, Kurt was shocked to see his father coming from his left.

Before Kurt had a chance to speak, his father said, “close your mouth boy, it's just your Da.” Picking up the spear of Shade, Rand stood next to his son for a moment to survey the field. Kurt was so invested in the construct that he couldn't supply a retort.

Looking about and finding what he was looking for, Rand put a hand on Kurt's shoulder and said, “you're doing great, son.” He smirked then hooted once before running back to the fray.

As Kurt digested the words, his light seemed to shine just a little brighter. It was then that everything seemed to stop as a cacophonous roar echoed from the city of Gwendon. Not one of triumph, but one of pain.

Rand left his son to finish the job his other son had started. His wife was in the thick of it, the Mainades had surged closer to the top as they felled and feasted on the Kul. Michael was next to Brenda, holding the line of a natural path that led to the top of their rise. A few of the possessed had slipped passed the defenders, which is why Rand had broken away from the line. Now that he had hunted down the last of them-

Rand felt more than heard the beast snarl in pain. In his head, he could hear a man screaming as though he were being flayed alive. Rand gripped his head and squatted down, for some bit of that agony seemed to pulse through him. When his wits returned, Rand saw what had happened, Dorian's beast had been standing on its hind quarters, but the black mass that reminded Rand of a river squid had shot its tentacles low, swiping out the other beast's legs. The black mass had latched itself on to the beast's throat and began to pump like a throat guzzling water.

Another cry came from behind him as everything blurred back into motion. Kurt was shouting, “I think it’s done! It wont take anymore!” Turning, the black construct was now moving on its own accord. It was pulling light in from everything around it, even himself. He felt slightly sluggish for a brief moment before he grew accustomed to the sensation. Just as he prepared a spear to throw and another to fight, a ragged voice spoke in his head. Fret not, Dorian. It works as intended. Bacchus hasn't sensed it yet. To the construct, Dorian, to the construct before its too late.

Dorian tried as hard as he could to get his bearings before gravity took it's due, but for all he tried to stiffen his body, he still spun through the air wildly. Just as the moment came that he remembered he could telekinetically push himself, he collided with the peak of a steep hill. The stone exploded quickly, and even though it hurt, he was grateful for it. For the briefest moment, his subconscious mind supplied the answer to his location, just as he crashed through the small peak and began bouncing off the earth that rose to meet him. He was at the edge of the Wilds, the separation between Kresson and his home.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Despite having just landed, Johann was already there. He must have been channeling his Prime hard, because even as the first strike from his tentacle-like Shade came down, Dorian glimpsed the last of Ken's hair gently falling to the ground. Another overhead strike came, this time even harder. Dorian was bleeding from his nose as well as several other locations. His iron reserves must have been dangerously low, he felt nauseous, and was bleeding more freely than he should be.

He tried to get up, but another pang of force pinned him to the earth. Then a second lance of blackness appeared in his vision as Johann was right on top of him. As this happened, Dorian felt something in his mind click, and another part wail. His eye could still see the lines of the bonds that ran towards their colossi, despite his vision being blocked by Johann. Dorian's bond grew thin while Johann's seemed to surge. In Dorian's mind he heard, “Fret not, Dorian. It works as intended. Bacchus hasn't sensed it yet. To the construct, Dorian, to the construct before its too late.”

Dorian flailed, trying to free himself from the grip of the twisted man that had stolen his friend, but found himself caught fast as the darkness covered his neck and mouth. He couldn't breath.

“You thought you would steal it away from me? This is my moment, I have waited countless lifetimes you wretched fat grub!” He was frothing at the mouth, spittle flung freely as the manic man raved at him. “Do you know what it cost?!” He laughed, madness tinged the sound, a madness that seemed to want to worm itself inside Dorian's mind and latch itself on to his sense of fear, dread, and terror. “It cost me everything! And you wish to take it for yourself?! It is mine! The freedom! The world! The power!” He began laughing as he pressed harder.

Dorian's vision was blurring at the edges, his head pounding, his ears popping, he tried to cry out but found his mouth flooded with the Shade, no, the Kraken of this evil thing that was once human. With no other option, Dorian sent a telepathic, and empathic, cry for aid. In a single instant, he managed to relay the intentions of the man that was strangling the life out of him, managed to express the death of the Valley and all life there. The forest of the Wilds gone to gray, the trees broken and lifeless. In an instant, he relayed the end of everything.

Flailing like madness had come over him, Dorian tried to cry out as his world began shrinking, his mind drawing back as the image of a bald Ken smiling down at him would be the last thing he saw. That was until he caught the sight of a pale body falling from the sky, carrying a dark... something.

“No! Not this time, ki-trik-nek eriq, nerokos Turt!” A gout of flame consumed the image of Ken, then Dorian was being hauled to his feet by something that had to be eight feet tall, hands larger than Dorian's over sized shoulders setting him right before heading towards the threadbare robed figure. Johann was just standing so Dorian took the moment of opportunity to fling several bolts of Shade at the man. Two glanced away, but the third one managed to stab solidly in to Johann's shoulder.

Johann didn't even flinch, just absorbed the Shade as he looked towards Moder's pathetic form. “Is this all your work, Moder?” Johann asked contemptuously.

Moder cackled for a moment before saying, “I have dreamt of this day since the moment you changed me, made me your puppet... but with enough time even your will can be beaten. The Bacchus has left you, even if our Shades are the same, fire cares not for what it burns.” He smiled, despite how haggard he looked. Then, a stream of flame came washing towards the Grand Elder.

Johann laughed, “even your little project over there knows better,” he said through his chuckle. His hands came up just as the flames should have incinerated him, instead the flames wrapped around Johann, his laughter echoing beyond the white noise created by the surging fire.

Johann took a step towards Moder, then another. Then he was running, covering ground as though there was nothing there. Moder screeched a scream of defiance and the flames grew white hot. Johann slowed, but didn't stop until he was standing right in front of Moder. As though there was nothing there, Johann slapped Moder with such force that Dorian saw the white of bone briefly before Moder's body limply fell to the ground.

Turt leaped at Johann with the fever of a bird fending off an intruder from its nest. Johann must have been nearly out of iron in his blood himself as the blows actually had an impact. Hissing, Johann backed away, gesturing with his hands as stones began to fly through the air. Dorian was trying to catch his breath, but knew that if he waited, Turt too would fall to the man.

Just as Dorian took his first step towards the disaster that was unfolding, a mass of movement out of the edge of the Wilds caught his eye. He glanced briefly then had to look again. Disbelief written plainly on his face, Dorian watched in awe as every creature of the Wilds, carnivore and herbivore alike, ran towards them. They were hooting, howling, snarling, and everything else in a mass of movement aimed directly for Johann.

Turning, Dorian was nearly bowled over as the great lions of the Kressian plains, second in size only to the great bears of the Wilds, ran pell-mell towards the one that would destroy all life. Turning back to Johann, he had Turt by the neck and was walking towards Moder's broken form.

“And they call me the betrayer. Moder, my beloved project, it’s time to wake. Bear witness to your punishment.” Dorian heard this mostly in his head, Johann's control must be slipping if he's sending freely like that. His back turned to the coming stampede, Johann hadn't noticed until it was too late.

The lion's roar, the sound filling Dorian with a sense of dread and of pride. He grinned to himself for the pun, but quickly found himself running with the fray. Johann had been toppled over by one of the lions, leaving Turt prone next to Moder.

Dorian was a few strides away when he caught a scent in the air, one that sent his mouth watering like it never had before. The eruptions of blood and pink mist coming from the center of the swarm made Dorian's heart ache for the animal's good intentions, but it also reminded him how dangerously low on iron and calcium he was. There must have been a gazelle in the fray that Dorian hadn't seen, because a bloody leg managed to fall to the ground in front of him. Unable to stop himself, his reptilian mind took hold and pounced on the leg. He squeezed it, letting the hot blood fill his mouth a few times before using his now reinvigorated strength to tear the meat off the bone.

Uncooked bone was much softer than cooked bone, so he filled his mouth with as much as he could chew before running over to the two that had come to save him. Interlinking his Shade, he wrapped the two tight around himself and stuck the remainder of the bone in to his thigh. His body would absorb the bone that way as well, he knew, though how effective it actually was, he didn't know.

He readied as many units of his Shade as he could, stretching each thinly and growing them out from the back of his shoulder running down the length of sides to his hips. He bowed in respect to the animals he shared a home with, not with words but with ideas. He sent, “honor to those that fight to live. Delay the creature, if you can, and life will pass the test of this day.”

Then, somehow knowing that Ohmer was near the Colosseum, Dorian used their link like a compass, and launched himself towards the arena. Rather than push himself the entire way, he used his Shade like wings to drift upon the winds. He had to conserve every bit of energy he had, his fight wasn't over yet.

Once the construct had “finished,” all four of them fell to the ground in exhaustion. Kurt was sure that he lost consciousness for a spell, because the next thing he knew a sleepy eyed Quena was slapping his face.

“Wake up! Kurt! Come on, come on! We need to get away from this thing, like right now!” Perhaps it was the piercing way she shouted that got Kurt to move, or perhaps it was the fact that he could feel something wrong, either way he was on his feet trying to keep pace with Quena and the others. Malik, the thin man was stumbling downhill, if not for Ingrid to steady him he'd have likely rolled rather than ran.

“What the fuck is happening?” Came a cry from the other lanky friend Dorian had managed to rope in to this mess. Benny, his name is Benny.

Kurt looked around, that thought wasn't his own. Dorian?

“I'll be there soon, I'm not doing so great, I take it you finished the construct?”

Kurt replied with a mental grunt as he dodged a madman frothing black from his mouth. Kurt punched him in the face and sent him sprawling back down the hill to where the Kul were fighting. Well, most of them were fighting, some of them were eating, as were some of the people.

“Dorian, I blame you for this whole fucked up situation.”

Laughing, Dorian replied, “you know, I do too. Hold it together, I wont be long. Get away from the construct, its tuned to me alone.”

“Well, that would have been good to know!” Kurt shouted in disbelief. Quena turned to him looking quizzical. “Sorry, Dorian's in my head. Should be here any-

Dorian's voice boomed in his head, “to the people of the valley, all that still hold their sanity, take cover with the Kul! Kiton-krek instik tu teth!”

A black spot was suddenly visible in the distance, coming from the direction of Metan. The earth shook as walls went up in front of the Kul, not very tall, but enough to keep the black eyed ones back for a time. The Kul swiftly started heading towards the holes in the earth, gesturing to the people around them where to go. One tried to herd Kurt along but Kurt gestured to himself and said, “kin,” then pointed to Dorian. The creature replied, “rek,” which was the Kul's equivalent to “whatever.”

“Come on Kurt, we should get inside. I don't have much left to fight with, I'm barely standing, which means you should be about dead.” Quena said to Kurt as Benny came up from behind.

Kurt shook his head at Quena when Benny said, “how the hell did he do that! Do you see that wall? That-”

“You're such a fucking idiot,” Quena said as she pushed Kurt. Kurt fell on his backside as he said, “he's my brother, it's my right. Go, all of you,” he gestured, “he cares for you all. Get to safety, he wont let me live it down if any of you get hurt.” He took a breath, surprised that he was winded, and rested himself against his knees. He had to grip his head to keep it upright.

Someone sat beside him, at first he thought it was Quena, but found that the person's outline was too short to be her.

“You especially, if you die, I think he'll kill me.”

Ingrid shook her head, “I have the right, just as much as you do.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Kurt said, “I share blood with the guy, what on earth thinks you have anything on that?”

Quick as a whip, she said, “perhaps not blood, but we've shared more than enough bodily fluids to-”

“Okay!” Kurt's hands went up, “I wont say a thing so long as you don't finish that sentence.”

Rand was trying to get to Rita, but the Kul around them were audaciously pushy. They kept herding him in different directions down the tunnels until it was pitch black.

“Rita! Rita! Where are you?!”

“Rand?! I'm over here!” His wife called back, her voice bouncing off the stone walls, leaving him half dazed.

“Sharik krek kikki, I k-k-can show you.”

Something gripped his shoulder and led him down the tunnel. Blind as he was, there was a part of himself that could feel his wife. This power that his son had awakened in him, it was something else entirely. The dark and the light both, they were elation incarnate, but despite how great he felt as he touched those wells of power, it was nothing to the fire he felt for his wife. Like magnets, they were drawn to each other in the dark, their embrace coming on like a storm. They only broke that embrace so that they could kiss, the scent of her sweat consuming his mind, the feel of her wild hair gripped in his hand, her small frame pressed against his body with the absolution of a river flowing.

Breathless, she said, “Rand, our boys.” He could feel her concerned expression even without seeing it.

“I know, beloved, I know. I'm scared for them too.”

He held her as she wept, held her tight. He held her with his arms, comforted her with his love, and supported her with all the hope he could muster. Rand kept nothing for himself.

Dorian floated downward, pulling in the bits of his Shade he had used to drift through the skies. For a time in his travel he was taken in by the breadth of the Valley, and its beauty. He had idly wondered what it would be to live free, to soar the skies like a bird, to explore the vastness and wonders of the world. It was wishful thinking, he knew, but, by the Gods, what a wonder it would be.

Dorian landed hard, releasing his passengers just before momentum carried him into a rough tumble up the slope. It was intentional, though he doubted his brother would believe him. He left the two on the ground, he doubted they'd be moving any time soon.

“Dorian, what's the big idea? Hey, is that Turt?” Kurt asked as he stumbled over to Dorian.

Dorian nodded, still catching his breath. ‘Yeah. Saved my ass back there. Them... and the lions.”

Looking confused, Kurt barely had time to blink before Ingrid tackled Dorian in an embrace so fierce it nearly crushed what was left of him.. He hissed in pain as he was becoming very aware of his terrible state. Some of the blows he had taken had pulverized his body. He'd never torn a muscle before, but some part of his studies or perhaps the memories he'd inherited, seemed to inform him of his state. He had torn several muscles in his core, part of his shoulder was pretty much just for show at that point, and his ribs more closely resembled a haphazard stack of firewood than anything else. Regardless, he wouldn't have traded that embrace for anything in the world.

Smiling, Dorian asked, “miss me?”

She broke away, nearly sobbing, she slapped him. Dorian was shocked for a moment but took it in stride. “So, you really missed me?” She smiled up at him, and despite the onlookers, kissed him breathless.

Breaking off, she said, “you're an idiot.” Then she hugged him again.

Dorian looked up to spot his brother grinning, not wildly, but subtly. Shaking his head, Kurt whispered, “you dog.”

Dorian's grin was the one to grow wild and reckless as he asked, “since you're all idiots, I take it you have a death wish.”

“All? It's just me and-”

“Ingrid and I,” came Quena's voice from behind. At the same time, he felt a pinch on his backside that made him fix his posture post haste. Looking over, she winked at him. “I can't have my favorite boy-toy getting hurt, now can I? Besides, I was here in the beginning, only seems right that I should be here at the end.” She nodded to herself once before setting her jaw.

“Right,” Dorian said as he pried Ingrid from him. He murmured something to her and she bobbed her head twice in affirmation. “Quena, do you know how to link?”

Taken back, she said, “of course. I'm surprised you do.”

“Thank Ohmer,” he tilted his head, “he's not doing a poorly as it looks, though he is growing weaker. I don't know how much time we have, but the construct only needs a few more minutes. If you link with me, you can step within the sphere of the construct.” He gestured towards the top of the hill, the sphere of light surrounding the construct growing denser by the moment. “We have to have an active cord, a line of evenly split Shade and Gia.”

Shaking her head, Ingrid said, “No, I can't do that.”

Quena chimed in and said, “if he can, all you have to do is will yourself to match it, your body will do the rest.”

Ingrid seemed to take this in for a moment, then said, “I suppose.”

“Hopefully, we wont need it. The real problem is keeping the Maimonides, the ones taken by Bacchus, from removing the construct. Ingrid, Quena, can you shape enough stone to raise those walls? I'm afraid I'm nearly out of sodium, anymore and I might have a heart attack.”

Shaking her head, Quena said, “not all of us are amped up on whatever is strengthening you, I could do it, but it would take half a day. What about you, Ingrid?”

She was shaking her head but was cut off by the vile sound of Johann's voice as it bludgeoned against Dorian's mind.

“What a beautiful creation, and what a fantastic plan. That construct is a work of art, I must commend you.” He laughed, and it filled every space in Dorian's mind. “Did you honestly think you stood a chance? You? The fat little idiot that thought he could challenge a God and it's vessel? It is time to end this little game.”

Kurt watched as Dorian ran uphill to stand in front of the construct. Kurt had to watch Dorian's eyes to spot the Elder, the young man was at the very edge of the Colosseum, his back facing the creature they called Bacchus. The menonads, or whatever Dorian had called them, had stopped moving. In fact, if Kurt didn't know any better, he'd swear they weren't even breathing.

The siphon of Gia from the construct had stopped, it was doing something now. A white light seemed to flow along the edges of the thing, encircling it like a runner on a repeating path. Slowly, the light ran its circuit, every time it completed one it seemed to pick up speed.

Even if the construct had stopped its siphon of Gia, there was a new pull that Kurt felt tugging at his reserves. Gia flowed out of him before he willed it back to himself and bore down on it. It was flowing towards the elder, a dark energy seemed to gather around him.

In front of the construct, Dorian recalled the shape of the runes Johann had used. Patiently, he wrapped the bits of his Shade to interlink in the same shape when he heard Ohmer in his head. “No, that is his way, not yours. Like this.”

Ohmer's voice was distant, like a whisper, but the image that was relayed reminded Dorian of the scissors Kurt had shaped to cut Dorian's hair. The two circles at the base of his Shade touching, the two lines crossing outward. It operated much like his will-cast construct had. The power he funneled through the circles to create an infinite loop, the two lines of his Shade leading the flow of power outward. It made sense, though only because of his link to Ohmer. Simple.

Drawing on all the Gia he had, and every bit that surrounded him, he threw all he had into the infinite loop, letting the power grow in intensity. His mental awareness of all the Gia around was stretched, at the edge of that awareness, Johann was pulling power to him like a drain in a stone sink.

Scowling, he wrenched control of the Gia away from Johann. The sudden shift rippled through the air, and Johann’s mental gasp cracked like thunder across the Valley. “So, you have steel in you after all? Then, let us have an end!” The laughter filled Dorian's mind for a moment before he beat it back, wrenching his will over Johann's, doing all he could to deprive the madman of any advantage.

The sensation in his right hand was growing to a crescendo, it made him feel like he had filled his mouth with brache, like when he was just a boy digging out the pits with Hans. His skin was on fire, his senses overwhelmed, he witnessed Johann lower his hand.

Dorian raised his, putting all his accumulated power into the runes, and released. A thick beam of light shot out of his hand, it felt as though a torrent of wind and ice was using him as a conduit. Power flowed through him and out.

His flow was met halfway by its opposite, the dark light emanating from Johann's hand seemed to cancel out Dorian's beam. The two forces collided, creating a field where they met. Johann's laughter stopped abruptly as he doubled down, fighting against the tide of Dorian's will. Like reverse tug of war, they pushed, the center line wavering back and forth as their powers waxed and waned.

But for all the times that the center point moved, it seemed that Johann's power waxed more than waned, the center coming closer to Dorian. Still, Dorian struggled, putting all he could in to the power struggle.

“The center, do not let it touch you! If it does, you will be obliterated!” Came a cry from Ohmer. Still, Dorian's waning power had taken him too far that day, he was exhausted. He pushed all he could, everything he had, but it wasn't enough. Dread buried itself deep within his core, a seed planted, Cultivated to full size in the blink of an eye. “No,” he thought to himself, “for all I've done, no!”

The center point came closer and closer still, now so close that the dust around him seemed to get drawn into its pull. Just as Dorian thought it was over, he felt a hand on his should.

He looked over to his side, Kurt was looking down at him. “You know, you don't have to do this alone. Let me show you how its done.” He was smirking like a Gods damned fool, but when they linked, the purity of Gia that flowed from Kurt was unbelievable. Like the power of Gia was wholly untapped until Kurt showed him the way. The thought “the fire itself” echoed through his mind as Dorian grabbed hold of the burning core of his own being.

Just as Dorian began to draw on his source the same way Kurt was, another hand came down on his shoulder, severe in intent, but somehow still caring. Dorian turned to see Ingrid, the smile on her face one that made his heart soar. Not for the simple romance, but for the fleeting hope of the life they could share, for the love they would create over the course of a lifetime. She too was pulled in, and in doing so, gripped her own core in the same fashion.

When the new flows of power came together, Dorian had to brace the wrist of his right hand with his left. He felt a low growl coming from his throat, felt the absolute faith in him from the two he cared for so deeply, and felt the fiery rage at himself for nearly letting them down.

Together, they pushed the center of the colliding forces toward Johann. Not quickly, but steadily, it grew closer and closer to the madman. He had lost his control, and was sending blindly now.

“No! No, no, no! Bacchus! Do not abandon me now! Come to me! He cannot stop us now, but they can! Bacchus! Your servant beckons!”

The moment the light threatened to consume him, a shriek tore through the battlefield. Darkness surged, towering, monstrous, then rushed into Johann, sinking into him like blood into parched earth. The shift in power was so immediate that Dorian gasped. The mad laughter invading his mental space stretched his mind paper thin.

At the same time, he thought he could hear a new kind of hum, not from his hand but from directly behind himself. The construct was nearly ready, if he could just hang on. Somewhere in his mind, he heard the strangest thing, and Dorian's heart broke despite the surge of hope he felt. “When you have to lead, let it be from a place of need. Dorian, Kurt, never has a father been so proud.”

Rand didn’t need to hear the battle above to know something had changed. He and Rita felt it, something immense, something final. Their sons were fighting for their lives, and he was holed up down in the dark. Small bits of Gia had been summoned to light the tunnels, but conservation was still a concern. There may yet be more fighting. Even Brenda and Michael, having found them a few minutes ago, were quiet as whatever struggle was happening unfolded, likely wondering what, if anything, they could do to help.

In his mind, more clearly now, the ancient voice spoke again. “Rand Cook, your children fight for the Valley.”

“I can tell.” He replied, not sure what else to say.

“And yet, you do nothing?”

“I wield the spear and the spatula better than any man alive, but for this? I have no tool. No way to save my children. Tell me, what would you have me do?”

The entity laughed, not in mockery, but in something deeper, delight. As if no one had cracked a joke in a thousand years.

“I never had any children, instead, I raised the Valley. I nurtured those early people, all of which are long dead now, excepting the betrayer. What would I have you do? You might not have the tool, but you may become one.”

“Then, what am I to do?”

Dorian watched as the center of the two forces plowed towards him. The construct was ready, but he wasn't sure if he could hold out. His father's words were still playing in his mind as movement came from his peripherals. Something large, Ohmer, had moved in the same way he did when they merged. Dorian didn't understand, why was Ohmer abandoning them now?

The humming was so loud behind him now that he knew the construct would go off any second, but the rate at which Bacchus was pushing the center back, he had a matter of moments. Just as the was close enough to begin pulling Dorian off his feet, a figure spun through the air towards Bacchus.

“How does a man ask for everything? How does one demand another's sacrifice, not for their own sake, but for the ones they love? How does a man claim that he cares enough for another’s children, not his own, yet his own in spirit, that he, too, is willing to die so that even one of them may live? How does a being tell another, this is the cost, and I ask you to pay it?”

Rand took a long moment, not in hesitation, but in acceptance. He sighed through his smile, closing his eyes as he let the words echo through his mind.

"I think you already know the answer," he thought. "And I think you already know mine."

"Then make your peace," the ancient voice replied. "When you are ready, agree." The ancient voice was hurried yet somber.

Rand sat for a moment. He wasn’t afraid, nor was he frozen. He drank in the moment, savoring it like it was the finest thing he’d ever cooked.

He reached out and found Michael. Nodding his head to himself Rand said, “Thank you.”

“Eh? Uh, whatever for, Rand?”

Not replying, he reached over and hugged Brenda. He whispered, “be patient for her, she has a temper.” Brenda tilted her head but before she could respond, he moved on, to the one that defined him. To his wife.

Rand laughed. A full, bellowing, chest-deep laugh that thundered through the tunnels, shaking dust from the stone. The sound was too large, too full, too alive. That was why it sent chills through the spines of all who heard it. Rand passively noted a few staring at him, and he could care less.

He picked Rita up and swung her in a circle, laughing all the while.

She slapped at his chest, flailing against his grip. “What’s gotten into you?! Our kids are up there fighting for their lives!”

“My love-”

“Don’t you ‘my love’ me, you fool!” she spat, her voice cracking with raw frustration. “They’re fighting! It’s not over! Can’t you feel them?!”

He smiled, then said, “yes, but it will be over soon.” Rand knew the exact length of breath she took before a tirade. Knew the shape of her face through countless arguments, countless kisses, countless moments that had shaped them both. So, he did something he had never done before. He cut her off.

“Enough, woman!” he boomed, his voice cracking through the cavern. She stopped. Everyone stopped. Quieter now, he said, “I know that. But I won’t have this be my end.”

His breath hitched. His throat tightened. And then the tears came, unbidden, unstoppable.

“You’ve given me everything, Rita. You’ve sacrificed, you’ve given all. If I were half the man you deserved, I’d be ten feet tall and strong as an ancient oak.” He choked, breathless. “I… I don’t have the words.”

He swallowed hard. “You are the retainer of my heart, and you fill me to overflowing.”

She took a step forward. “Rand…” Her voice broke. “What are you saying?” Though she said it, something in her voice told Rand that she knew.

Rand sobbed once, just once, before he pulled her so tightly against him that if he held her even a fraction longer, he might have crushed the air from her lungs. He kissed her, praying his desperation didn’t burden her. Salt stung his lips, mixing with the bitter taste of heartache.

For the last time, he touched the core of his Gia, letting it light his eyes just so he could see her face one last time. Gods, she is beautiful.

He smiled, the light blurring his vision after just a moment, but the moment was all he needed. “I have to save our children, Rita.”

She started shaking her head violently with the whites of her eyes on plain display. “No, no, no you don't! No, Rand, I'm telling you, I will leave you! Don't you dare-” He could se her fury, her panic, her terror.

He hushed her. “I wont lie to you, Rita.” He spoke gently, soft but certain. Like his little Dorian, so small, so curious, his voice carried a resonance that said conviction. “I love you, and if I'm so lucky, I'll love you again in the next life.” His hands lingered, his smile trembled.

“Goodbye, beloved.”

Her mouth opened, another plea, another protestation. Rand wasn't listening because as he said his last farewell, he sent back to the ancient, “I agree.”

Just like that, most of Randall Cook was gone. He knew he wasn't Rand because the pleading cries of his life and love didn't change his mind. Knew it couldn't be him as the stone opened beneath him to move him to where he needed to be. Knew he was no more as the echoes of her heartache bellowed against the walls and he felt nothing, nothing but the need move.

He flowed through the stone like a fish through water. The tiniest part of himself arrested the will to send a message to his children just before he arrived at his final destination.

Quena assaulted Bacchus with everything she had. Every Prime surged at once, a blur of fire, stone, and force. She moved like a tempest, her blade a streak of silver, carving into the abomination with fury alone to sustain her. Bolts of pure blackness lanced from her outstretched hand, blows that would have felled men, felled titans.

Bacchus jerked, his body spasming midair, his focus still locked on the beam of force wrestling against his own. For the first time, he felt pain. For the first time, he faltered.

And for the first time, he turned. Quena froze mid-air, hanging weightless before him.Then, Bacchus opened his mouth, a tentacle burst forth. It struck her like a hammer of the Gods, flinging her beyond the walls of the Colosseum. She vanished, and Dorian’s breath caught.

But before he could react, another figure erupted behind Bacchus, and something shifted.

The bond between Dorian and Ohmer twisted, pulled, unraveled, then rushed into this new presence. As swiftly as Bacchus had merged with Johann, Ohmer poured into the one behind him. The hum of the construct stilled.

Dorian recognized it instantly, the pull, the shift, the knowing. It’s Rand, it’s my Da!

His father’s arms splayed wide, fingers latching onto Bacchus’s form. His voice was calm, unwavering, final.

“It is time, Johann, for me to teach you the lesson you taught me.” A pause. A breath. A farewell.

“How to die.”

The construct erupted.

A bowl of power slammed shut around the two figures, sealing Bacchus against his antithesis. The light was blinding. The air screamed. Dorian felt it all, the weight of the Valley, the weight of history, the moment of reckoning.

The beam of force drove backward, shoving into Bacchus with the might of all creation. The wall of light rose behind him, closing in, sealing fate.

For a single, terrible second, Dorian heard it. His father’s annihilation mingled with the mad laughter of a dying God.