Jake floated in an endless mist.

It swirled around him.

It ingrained itself into his very being.

Ja—

"Hey, kid!" Shouted a slightly nasally voice.

…What…?

“Hey—oh. You're finally coming around. Took you long enough." The voice felt bord and rather condescending.

…Felt…? I fee…

"Yah, yah you feel my voice, yada yada yada. We need to talk."

…Why do I fe…

"You're not gonna let this go, huh. We're in your soul, kid, how else will you hear me?

…Oh,—

"Anyway, you need to stop thinking and liste—

…You c—

"Yes! I. Can. See. You. Think." The voice said in exasperation, stretching out each word. "If I can get into your soul, due you really think I can't read it?

……

"Good! Now, where do I begin… ah! Yes, I remember. Ahem, so, you are The Warden."

The voice paused at the statement as if waiting for Jake to gasp at the revelation. The words the voice spoke were not The Warden. That was how Jake interpreted what he heard.

But Jake already knew. Why would he be surprised at something he was. It was like looking at a naked person and saying, "You're naked." Of course, they know that.

…I already knew?…

"Fucking Acknowledged never respond to their Titles. Ruins all the fun of a good reveal. No consideration, I tell you." The voice muttered.

…What wer—

"You might know you are a The Warden," the voice said, cutting off Jake's thought, its tone amused and condescending, "but you have no idea what that means." The voice took a moment as if gathering his thoughts before continuing, "Simply put, it means that the Universe has acknowledged that you perform a specific task so vital, Existence itself could depend on its success or failure. A Title is the manifestation of the Authority granted by the Universe to help you achieve your purpose. As such, a Title can have more or less Authority than other Titles, depending on its importance. Some can even gain Sub-titles that derive their Authority from another Title.

"The Title you received was The Warden. In the past, that Title was little more than a joke. Really, what individual born of this universe could contend with the Primordials Tartarus was made to imprison. The past holders were nothing more than an alarm on the off chance something escaped. But… shit. I'm gonna have to give you a short history lesson of humans and how they changed energy, aren't I…"

The voice trailed off as if a tremendous task was just put upon him as Jake tried to absorb what he said. As the voice talked, Jake became more awake, if that was the right word. He didn't have a body, and all he could see of his surroundings was pervasive white mist. The mist was extremely familiar to him for some reason. Jake was, however, able to think faster, and as he searched his surroundings, he made out a black-red churning mass off to the side marring the mist.

Everything the voice said sounded ridiculous, but one thing stuck out more than the rest to Jake. How did humans change energy?

"Do you even really need to ask that? Are you a fucking idiot or something? Have you looked at the energy constantly surrounding you? Is it in any way natural! It has no aspects at all! It's plain basic-bitch energy.”

Jake focused on the splash of color with a blank mind. He did not get what the big deal was.

"Let me break this down to a dumdum level then." The voice condescended to explain before muttering, "Where do I start…"

Clearing his nonexistent throat, the voice began to speak, "When the Universe first came into existence, it was like a bubble in the sea of Chaos. Chaos could not exist by itself in a world of order, so it split into two aspects, Creation and Destruction. That is not to say that Creation Energy could not destroy or Destruction Energy could not create. It was just that their disposition was to create and destroy. Into this world where the new forms of energy struggled to form a balance, and Primordials ran rampant, the Universe set about creating sentient beings to fill it. Out of necessity, the first beings needed to be robust and adaptable and use all forms of energy to their pinnacle as they fought against the aftershocks of creation and the rampaging primordials. That is how creaturs suck as us, the celestials, as well as dragons, phoenixes, titans, grater elementals, and dozens of other species, can too be."

Pausing, the voice sounded almost sentimental. Coughing, it continued, "As things calmed down, lesser races began to appear. They were not as inherently strong, but they made up for it by specializing and reproducing faster than they could be killed. Which was how humans came to be. Humans are a weak and pathetic lot, all things told —you’re lucky to not be one anymore.

"Anyway, the only things humans had going for them was any of them that could touch energy could enchant, they could adapt to any environment if given enough time, and they are a disease that reproduces faster than anyone could exterminate. Which was why no one was paying attention to them…

"Their immortals started off small. A few dozen worlds. Maybe a pocket dimension here and there, but it was never to the point anyone of actual power took notice. Everything they claimed, though, was strategic and planned out. It laid the foundation of an array of such scale and magnitude that it started shifting how energy functioned.

"It was like overnight, half of the Qi, as the humans call it, in existence became and then stayed purified. An example would be like one day you woke up on Earth and found all of your water was utterly without anything but its base components. You ever tasted distilled water before? I bet it tasted weird. That's because It does not exist in nature. Nothing exists in isolation.

"And you know what the worst part is? The fucking humans figured out how to make Qi purify itself unless it was completely saturated with some aspect. It would be like dropping food coloring into water, watching it spread halfway, then watching the food coloring disappear along with a bit of water. That. Is. Not! Natural!"

The voice was screeching at the end and was filled with anger. Jake was mildly concerned he might be hurt, but what really lodged itself in his mind was a question, What happens to it?

Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, the voice responded, "That's the problem, kid. As energy is used and interacts with the world and gains some aspect, not all of the energy makes the change. There is a small portion that becomes, let us say… heavy. Or stale. It was the power and potential that was used so the rest of the energy could make the transition. Without it interacting with Heavy Destruction Energy, it will never regain its vigor.

"Thus enters the flaw in the humans' plan. Or their greatest trap. That bit of Heavy Creation Energy was meant to travel around until it came into contact with Heavy Destruction Energy. At which point, they would combine and then separate into more energy than what the original masses could account for. And that is how the Heavenly Lands naturally grow and flourish.

"The humans, though, do not generally do well with Destruction Energy, so they found a way, then convinced the leading powers to separate the energies into two realms connected by gates. Doing that, however, caused the energy to grow stagnant in the Heavenly and Abyssal Realms, or become filled with impurities, as the humans say. The humans had a rather clever plan for that, all things said and done.

"Without going into the details, humans figured out a way to draw energy from the Chaos Sea using World Shards and shunted aspected energy they did not want into a confined space that could hold it. Making an endless supply of neutral Qi, which was the perfect base for human cultivation.

"Where did they put all of that energy? Well, they put it into the infinite cage of Tartarus. Once their actions and the full scope of the consequences became known, it forced us higher races to act. We stormed their strongholds and found clues suggesting their array's core was hidden within Tartarus. We did not think much of it because we had to deal with the energy flooding into Tartarus before it woke up the Primordials… we should have suspected. It was all a trap.

The humans closed the gates to Tartarus behind us, then the gates to the Abyss, creating their perfect endless cultivation fields. Then on mass, they began to shunt all aspected energy into Tartarus. Wanna know something about Tartarus? There can be thousands of was in, but only one out.

“We—the celestials born to keep the balance of energy—were forced to watch as the other races under our charge died out and vanished as the types of aspected energy they relied on dried up in all but the densest locations. Leaving the humans to run rampant over existence while others struggled to survive."

The voice paused as Jake took long moments trying to process what he was hearing. It was not working. Most of what he was hearing was going right over his head, and he was sure he was missing a lot. What he was processing sounded bad. Really bad. I think I underst—

"No, you don't, kid. I haven't even gotten to the real problems. But it does not matter if you can process this now. You'll never forget because I'm implanting this right into your soul. The point is that Tartarus is filled with so much Destruction Energy—stagnant and not—that it has gradually driven us mad. We need to release enough Destruction Energy and then absorb Creation Energy to regain a balance.

"And this little dome is the anchor connecting all of that condensed energy in Tartarus—as well as its opening—to the world. So the most powerful beings and the most powerful races ever to exist will pour in a near endless stream into your little home. That is not to mention that with Tartarus being filled with so much Destruction Energy, and this being the anchor, it will weigh down the surrounding reality until the areas around it will start to warp, and entities will begin to spawn or slip through from the Chaos Sea. Entities that are associated and packed with so much Destruction Energy—since that is the energy causing reality to warp and is bleeding into all of the entities slipping past—that they will ravage the world in endless hunger if left unchecked. Or worse, The Others, those remnants of old destroyed universes, might slip into this one and attempt to alter and corrupt reality to rebirth their own. Or they might try and summon more of their kind. That is always fun to deal with. And all that stands between that happening to Existence is you and his land, kid. Are you starting to understand now?

"Which is why the Universe helped you achieve what you did and gave you a Title. You could not have been the only choice, just the most convenient. I mean, did you really think you could take a spark of Chaos into you and make it submit becoming and Primordial on your own? Your talented kid, don't get me wrong, but the sheer level of talent and luck it would take to do the things that happened to you on your own does not exist. Primordials existed before this universe was even born and are either impossible to kill or are so strong that they will rupture reality with their deaths if something actually manages to kill them. There's a reason the Universe created Tartarus to contain them. Those far stronger than you can imagine tried and failed to subdue a spark of Chaos and become a Primordial. Shit, the number that succeeded could be cou—

STOP!

The mist shattered at the command. And Jake's world went black as he hung at the edge of awareness.

**********

Fang was flopped on his side atop a grassy bluff, basking in the sun. It was a nice hill, and it deserved to have him relax on it. If only the humans could keep it down.

Letting out a huff of breath, Fang rolled over and lifted his head, turning to look down the hill.

In the depression between his hill and the next, two armies were gathered and were shouting at each other, working up their courage.

One side was the massed warriors of his descendants. The other was some tribe that was looking to expand their territory. Or were being pushed out of their territory.

Fang didn't pay attention to the chieftain and priestess as they explained.

It was pretty common that some nearby tribe was forced into their land by a rival or invaded their land for expansion. None ever succeeded.

Not that they were all killed; anyone could surrender and become a challee, or oathbound. They served the tribe for seven years, and once their time was up, they are free to leave or stay as they desired. The labor can be challenging, but any descendant found abusing a challee was severely punished, and it was better than dying.

This foe was not such an exception that Fang expected the Mistrunners to lose. Besides, if this was a real war would involve the narooh and veterans relaxing on the slope behind him.

The whole battle was just a chance for the younglings to bloody themselves.

On the other hand, for the invading tribe, this was life and death. When they lost here, either the warriors and their dependents submitted to the Mistrunners, or they ran and slowly died out as they were harried by other tribes.

A desperate foe always fights the hardest, this will teach them well, Fang thought as he looked around.

It was the same battle he had watched over hundreds of times, if usually not to this scale. Then what is bothering me? It was something more than the shouting humans.

Fang could feel it. A tension hanging in the air.

He had not felt this… this…potential? Energy? Since—Fang howled.

The howl tore through the air like a thunderclap and radiated out through all his spirit bonds connecting him to the tribe close and far.

It told everyone the same thing. Prepare for battle.

Fang whipped his head around, taking in all that was around him.

The younglings were shifting around in uncertainty at the howl in the valley below. Their enemies to the south were cowering or bracing themselves for an attack that would never come, while the valley's north end swarmed with animals racing to their narooh.

They knew their bonded had to bloody themselves alone, to prove themselves worthy.

But the animals could also feel the tension and pressure pushing down. The gathering of power. His howl was the final straw.

Something that would affect all of their lives was about to change. And if they were to survive, they needed to be united. To stand side by side with their bonded, and if the occasion called, die.

Wolves and tri-noses raced down the valley. Once the younglings felt the fear pouring off their narooh, they turned and sprinted towards them.

Behind the hill, veteran warriors and their bonded leapt to their feet and scrambled for their weapons as they looked around in concern before they raced up the hill towards Fang and the High Priestess sprinting towards him with a look of worry.

At her heels was the Shaman, only staying behind the High Priestess out of respect, and the rest of their guards that were overlooking the battle up on the bluff.

Everyone besides the younglings was only there as a precaution, and it was lucky they were. The younglings, even his tribe, were not ready for what was about to come.

Fang's eyes locked on the Misty Crown. That was where it would happen.

Fang was looking at the wall of mist that was always present and impassable. Occasionally, the fog would part, and you could see a stone wall behind the veil, but that was rare.

If one got far enough back, however, they could barely make out a small band of stone with stone peaks evenly spaced around the edge at an impossibly far distance. Tendrils of mist would weave through the cliffs, making it look like a crown poking out of the fog.

Fang could remember another life, though. Half forgotten dreams of before he woke up in the totem. Dreams of being human and coming out from behind the veil.

His memories lined up with the legends his tribe told, if less exaggerated.

Now, though, Fang knew without a doubt that his origin lay beyond the mist. He could feel a tug.

A yearning to fill the constant hole inside of himself. To finally be complete.

Taking a half-stuttering step forward—

Fang clamped down on himself and stumbled backward.

This was the same feeling Fang got whenever the mist parted when he happened to be near.

In his youth, Fang raced into the mist, chasing after the feeling, only to get lost. And then suddenly step out of the mist seconds to days later, tens of miles from where he entered the veil.

Only the Mistrunners were foolish enough to make it a celebration tradition to run into the mist and see who returns first. The Priestesses say that the Ancestor judges all who enter the mists, but Fang never remembered doing such a thing, so he usually ignores them when someone brings it up.

Fang had long since gotten over chasing after the feeling. He only reacted now because it was on a whole new level.

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The reason for which was chilling.

The mist that always seemed to be falling from the peaks and pooling a few miles around the base and occasionally enveloping the city, had stopped.

For the first time in his memory, the Misty Crown was laid bare. It was an endless pillar of stone marred with crevasses and missing chunks scattered over its surface.

Stumbling back and collapsing to his hindquarters, Fang wrapped his tail around him as his ears laid back and lips curled in a snarl.

The top of the Crown was consumed with waves of death and destruction. The mountain peaks at the edges melted and warped as they tried to contain wave after wave of abuse.

More of the peaks were worn away every moment under the unending onslaught.

It was too much. Nothing could take such destruction and remain unscathed.

At first, it was a jet of flame here. A clump of flame that bounced off a cliff or two before popping into the open air and sputtering out there.

Over the following seconds, more and more of the balls of destruction began to break free.

Fang reared back before collapsing to his side as he felt something hit him.

His vision swam as memories that were and were not his own flooded his mind.

**********

… \

"Administrator!" a nasally voice squeaked from the black-red blob marring the white mist in disbelief and fear.

You shift the balance too far, Larry. Rumbled what could only be reality.

"What?! We were sure this was fine? I did not mean to overstep." Groveled the voice.

Which is why you live. Too much has been gifted to The Warden, too much without struggle or cost. The Scales must regain balance through adversity and ill luck, lest those who would sunder existence take advantage of The Warden's karma.

“…I see. What of—

Others must bear part of the burden. Suppress the hoards. Even if he can hold the gate, what does it matter if the world around him is consumed by corruption. As—

**********

Fang blinked, trying to bring his vision and mind back into focus.

The High Priestess was above him, hands reaching down, but she kept looking up and to the sides every few seconds.

Fear saturated the air. The fear of his descendants.

They called.

They pleaded for answers and guidance.

Pulling on the power of the tribe, Fang was able to wrest his mind from the vision and focus on the now.

To what needed to be done.

It had told him what he needed to know. More than he wanted to know.

With a gentle puff of air and a bump of his head, he pushed Kaleena, the latest High Priestess of the Mistrunners, to the side.

She would understand soon. They all would.

Gathering his legs under him, Silver Fang, Ancestor of the Mistrunners, stood to his full height, silver fur glowing with power.

The Misty Crown wept fire, and it streaked across the sky.

Fang could see blobs of fire that had already touched down, burning the surrounding grasslands. And from their depths, He could see movement.

A house-sized ball of fire was passing overhead, and Fang howled again.

This time, Fang put everything his people needed to know into the call.

He told his people that the Misty Crown was a prison that fought to contain this destruction and corruption.

He told them that should the creatures hidden within the fire run free, they would destroy and corrupt everything they encounter until the world died.

He told them that they, the Mistwalkers and their narooh, were the only ones who could not be corrupted, so it was their duty to root out this plague infecting the world.

A long moment passed, and every warrior, builder, defender, narooh, and child of the Mistwalkers froze, processing the information.

There was no running.

There was no quarter that could be asked or given.

Either they stood firm and held back the tide, or they were swallowed.

As one, Fang's descendants turned and bowed their heads.

They understood their purpose. Why they had been saved.

The Mistrunners were the unquestioned rulers for hundreds of miles around the totem for two centuries.

They could have expanded farther, but there was no point. They did not have the spirit energy to integrate more people than they already were, thanks to the challee.

Vary few challee chose to leave. Once they realized joining the tribe and bonding with a narooh would mean their strength, durability, stamina, and dexterity, along with other effects depending on what was bonded, would at the least double, they were very enthusiastic about joining the tribe.

Already, the Mistrunners had claimed far more land than they needed and were fulling up the land they already had.

With the weakest and youngest of them being stronger than the biggest men in another tribe, the Mistrunners were left unchecked.

That was not even mentioning the physical power of a shaman and chieftain or the magics a priestess could summon.

For the longest time, the Mistrunnders were left to wonder about their purpose. Why did the Ancestor decide to come down and bless them while so many were left to die?

They knew now. There was no more need to wonder. Their purpose was to fight.

It started with the High Priestess; she slammed her two short spears together.

The shamen and other priestesses followed suit on the next hit, with the men hitting their chests and women clacking their spears together.

On the following hit, the growing noise was joined by a click and thump, by the wolf clan hit the back of their obsidian blades together, and the tri-nose clan smashed their oversized wooden cudgels to their chests.

The thousands of tribe members around Fang and the thousands more scattered in roving bands across their territory all beat out their defiance in a steady rhythm, uncaring of the distance. They were all united, like an unyielding unified heart.

As one, they looked up to the sky.

It did not matter where they were. So many balls of fire streaked across the sky there was always one falling nearby.

A crashing thunder of the meteor slammed into the hill behind them washed over Fang.

He turned and leapt over the surrounding warriors, landing halfway down the slop, and started sprinting towards the abomination, rearing up amide the flames screeching its arrival and unending need to the heavens.

Fang pulled spirit energy from the totem, making sparks of white light appear and float around his silver coat, then barked.

It was as if his mouth was the source of a multi-ton explosion. A wave of force rolled out from his mouth, flattening the grass in a cone until it came into contact with the fire.

The flame tried to resist the bark, but it stood no chance. The fire close to the ground was smothered while the flame flickering in the air was flung into the sky, where it quickly extinguished.

The behemoth figure was revealed.

Most of the two-story creature could be called a bear. From its clawed feet to its shaggy broad shoulders was all bear. Its tail was lashing behind it like a cat's tail, but when it lashed behind it to the right, it was only half the length of the abomination's body and fairly wide, then when it flicked to the left, it was twice as long as its body and significantly more narrow. Growing from its shoulders were the wings of an eagle stretching dozens of feet to the sides.

A shiver ran through Fang as he looked at the creature's head. It was humanoid in shape, but row upon down of shark's teeth filled its mouth. Its skin was a pasty white, and its ears long and pointed. But the eyes were what got to Fang.

They were endless pits of destruction and malice layered upon swirling layers of black. It was a nightmare-made flesh.

Fang hunched his shoulders and surged forward, leaping at being abomination's chest before it finished its yell.

A small crater was formed where Fang lept off the ground.

Stretched out and flying through the air, Fang's fangs clamped around the base of the creature's neck, his hind claws raking at the creature's stomach.

Eyes darting up at the creature, Fang continued to shred the creature's abdomen as it stumbled back before it suddenly stopped falling.

Fang saw the creature's wings beast, releasing a cloud of ash, pushing it forward, then he was slammed to the side, ripping out the chunk of flesh locked in his Jaws.

Twisting in the air, Fang landed on all fours as he slid backward, digging trenches through the soil with his claws.

He flexed his side a few times where the creature's tail hit him. There would be little more than a bruise, his fur absorbing most of the impact.

Focusing on the monster, Fang's narrowed at the battle.

The tri-nose and their narooh were charging the abomination head on, roaring their challenge to the creature in hopes of distracting it from the wolf packs circling the sides.

Whipping back, the creature's tail planted behind it as its upper body rotated, its wing flung out in a swipe across the ground.

Some of the wolves and Mistwalkers who were too close to the wing, which ignited in a burst of black flame as moved, were clipped.

The wing was unimpeded as, one after another, a wolf was smashed back, its chest caved in. A woman whose arm brushed against a feather ignited in black-red flames before rolling around on the ground, screaming. Other wolves and Mistwalkers tried jumping over or sliding under with mixed results.

Fang turned and began running around the abomination, and a single roar rang out above the din.

From the lead tri-nose, a figure shot off the creature's back, throwing up a puff of dust from its hide that radiated out around the tri-nose.

The man's arms trailed behind him as he wound up his body to swing his cudgel that was as long as his body and had a large tree stump at the end for weight.

Landing knees bent, the man stepped forward as he swung, slamming his weapon into the wing.

A crack like a tree snapping in half followed the contact and the outer third of the burning wing continued forward while the rest stopped cold.

Wing wrapping around the man, he was cocooned in matted black feathers and fire.

Within one of Fang's bounds, the man blasted out of the mass, racing to catch up to the heard of tri-nose stampeding towards the abomination.

Around his body, the flames wrapped around his skin without ever touching it. Waves of energy poured off his body, repelling the flames.

Fang could feel the slight pull from the totem.

Behind the monster, Fang paused for a moment before turning and darting in.

The abomination stomped its feet into the ground and planted its tail behind it as it crouched, bracing for the charge of the massed tri-noses.

It was too late.

The abomination screamed in pain as the High Priestess and her sisters burst from the ground on the backs of their thunder lizards.

Latching onto the abomination's tail, the three priestesses thunder lizards exhaled their vapor at the thing's heels before diving back into the ground pulling the tail with them.

As their mounts dove down, Fang could feel the priestesses draw power from the totem and fire off lightning bolts through the vapor and into its heels.

The explosion, ringing out like a clap of thunder, rocked the abomination forward. As it flared its wings out to regain balance on feet that no longer seemed as steady, the tri-nose struck. Two of the beasts slammed horns first into the abomination's legs while the rest of the herd streamed past on the outside, keeping up a constant barrage of hits from their rider's oversized cudgels into the shin.

With the Priestesses pulling the tail ever deeper, it was more than enough for the beast to start tipping backward. Then the wolves started leaping in from the sides, latching into the monster, adding more weight.

Tilting farther than it would be able to return, even with its wild flapping, the wolves lept off while the tri-nose continued to drive forward.

Crashing to the ground, the tri-noses' horns ripped free of the fur-covered flesh.

Before the abomination could even settle onto the ground, the wolves leaped onto the creature's limbs and chest tearing into him with fangs and claws. The tri-noses followed closely as they speared its body, holding its limbs in place.

Fang was racing forward as the behemoth abomination fell.

The very ground shook with the impact, but it did not bother Fang. His paws were sure as they beat against the ground.

Pulling energy into him, Fang gathered it around his jaws. As Fangs Jaws opened as he raced forward, his teeth glowed.

Lunging forward, Fang latched onto the creature's neck. Radiating out from his jaws, another slightly opaque set of jaws ten times the size as Fangs latched onto the beast's throat.

With Fang clamping his jaws and tearing away the flesh, the ethereal set of jaws followed, ripping out half of the creature's throat.

It did not matter much. Despite the satisfaction, Fang felt.

Moments after Fang pulled, a tri-nose slammed into the abomination's head.

Even that was just another nail in the coffin, as the sharp claws and blades of the wolf clan had nearly severed its limbs and shredded its abdomen.

The creature might have been able to heal the wound Fang had already inflicted upon it, but its healing ability was no match for the concerted efforts of a thousand warriors and their narooh.

They tour away for long moments at the beast, ripping out chunks of flesh that barely seemed to bleed.

The frantic mauling continued until, with a jerk, everyone stumbled back.

Putrid and rotting spirit energy rushed out of the abomination. And as if the energy was all that made up the creature, it seemed to disintegrate before Fang's eyes with its leaving.

It was as if the twisted energy had a mind of its own, for as it saturated the air, it bore into the Mistrunners around it.

The energy tried to make the hosts compatible with it, but it got nowhere.

As it entered the bodies of the Mistrunners and their narooh, it was pulled throw them and then through the spiritual cords connecting all Mistrunners to the totem.

Fang felt the energy hit the core of his power.

Though he had a physical form, the source of his power, and all of the Mistrunners, was the totem at the center of the Weeping City. Without the totem, he was little more than an oversized wolf. Probably not even that.

Flopping to the ground, Fang focused on the flood of energy. The invading energy might be potent and have a purity and density that the gathered energy within the totem could not match, and by its very nature, it might be disposed to tear down the totem's structure, but Fang had something stronger. Greater.

Shepherding the energy to his core, Fang let the energy wash over the seed at the totem's heart before the energy of the totem subsumed and incorporated the now purified energy.

An individual is weak. Their will can be bent and broken without much difficulty.

But the will of a nation? It is not so easily broken.

A seed representing the collective will of fifty thousand eight hundred fifty-four people can shape the world if united. And that was what the energy faced at the heart of the totem.

Under the collective will of the Mistwalkers, the destructive energy wilted and broke up and was quickly subsumed by the pooled faith energy of the totem.

With the totem's pool of energy swelling with power, it became even easier to absorb the energy as it did not take as much collective will to suppress and change.

It fast became apparent Fang had a problem. There was too much energy gathering in the totem.

Rising to his paws, Fang plodding around the body and still milling Mistwalkers.

Out of the thousands of warriors that charged the behemoth, most milled around at the edges watching the fighting.

The one thing that could be said about a community that had a spiritual connection with everyone else, they had an instinctual understanding of their surroundings and how to best fight as a group.

It was uncanny to watch if one had not experienced it themselves.

Meteors of fire were still falling from the sky, and more and more were hitting the ground. The behemoth was far from the only impact in the immediate area, and there were hundreds if not thousands more farther out.

They all needed to be fought, and everyone knew it was going to be a long night, and probably week. The shamans and priestesses were beginning to organize into smaller groups to head out, but Fang had other pressing problems.

With every step, power poured off Fang and onto the ground. He needed to relieve some of the pressure.

Once he was lined that was clear, Fang pulled energy from the totem into his body. Shooting forward, Fang crossed a mile in an instant and appeared on the outskirts of the invading tribe's camp.

They were huddled in the center of the tents, with the warriors facing outwards while the dependence and horses of the tried were gathered in the center.

It was perfect.

One measured step at a time, Fang walked forward until he was ten feet from the crowd, and they began huddling down in fear. Fang could smell it in the air.

It was not just from the ground before him. The Mistwalkers also had the sent about them, but the tribe before him reeked.

If Fang made one wrong move, they would break, and this chance would be lost along with mountains of waisted spirit energy.

Fang plopped his backside on the ground and let his tongue fall out of his mouth as he smiled.

The dip then spike of fear he smelled proved the results were mixed.

Fuck it, Fang thought, "Join the tribe and fight, or wait to die," growled Fang.

The High Priestess appeared next to Fang with her hands clasped over his waist as her thunder dragon loomed behind her as she spoke, "The Ancestor in his wisdom has offered your tribe a choice, join us and fight, or wait for the abominations to kill you. Decide now."

Fang's tongue lolled out of his mouth as he smiled. He could have spoken to the crowd, but why would he when someone was always around to translate.

Seconds passed as the gathered crowd just stared before an old weathered man stepped forward, warbling out, "We will never submit to yo—

"Do not be arrogant! This is not the time to argue or pander as you posture to keep your pride, you will accept this generous offer so we can be done with this!" Fang snarled out, half rising and lifting his front left paw.

The old man took a step back in fear as two warriors jumped forward, brandishing their spears.

Raising two fingers on her left hand, the High Priestess of The Ancestor froze the guards with a flick of her hand. Speaking in a calm, level tone, she said, "Have you looked up? Can you feel the taint in the air? Today will go down as the day our existence forever changed, at least, it will for the few tribes that survive what's coming. There will be no going back, they," she pointed to a rat-faced abomination with two pairs of oversized front paws, with the second set coming out the top of the shoulder blades.

Before the rat thing reached the warrior it was leaping at, the thunder lizard lashed forward, jaws snapping shut around the creature. Shaking its head, the lizard released the body, flinging it to the side.

But it was too late. The corruption infesting the small abomination's body was pouring into the air, and a warrior was too close.

The energy lashed out at the woman and began ravaging her body. The skin on her arms changed colors from a brownish tan to black purple. One arm grew fur, and the other had scales pop out of the skin.

Not reacting to the events other than lowering her finger, she continued, "will never stop. This," she dismissively flicked her hand at the warrior writhing in on the ground that everyone was falling back from, "will happen to you all… without our help. Without our Ancestor's blessing, you will be ravaged by this new blight on the world."

The old man's eyes flicked to the High Priestess and then down to the woman, the sent of horror and desperation overtaking the fear radiating off him.

His eyes locked on the High Priestess and then Fang before he looked up. The sky was streaked with a black flame laced with red. His head turned to the stone tower topped in a crown of stone, which was revealed from behind its veil for the first time in remembered history.

They all could feel it, even if no one would say it. The weight of history was in the air. Of change.

Slumping, the man said in resignation, "What must we do?"

The group shuffled in place, but no one called out in anger or dissent. No one even looked askance at the elder, only down or away in shame.

"Does he speak for them all?" Fang huffed, and the High Priestess translated.

No one wanted to be the one to beg for help, and that was what this was. Their pride was too great. But who wanted to die?

The elder straightened his shoulders and took the shame onto himself. "Yes. I speak for us all."

A screech tore itself from the woman writhing on the ground, making everyone jump. A man and a young girl were the only ones brave enough to get within arms reach, and even they were hesitant to touch her.

"Touch my head, and accept my blessing." As more and more power began to leak off him, Fang said, "And hurry."

Stepping to the side and waving her hand from the elder to Fang, the High Priestess said, "Touch his brow, and accept the blessing."

Hesitant at first, slow steps became fast and sure.

Planting himself before Fang, he slapped, for an old man, his hand down in the middle of Fang's head.

The faith energy pouring off Fang wrapped around the elder's hand and up his forearm. The energy could do little more than probe at the skin, but it did allow the elder to understand Fang.

"Do you accept?"

“…Yes…" The elder finally said after a long moment.

The Faith energy drove forward into the elder, saturating his body.

Fang could feel the elder's connections to the rest of the tribe. They were faint, little more than strands of a spider's web, but they were there. And it was enough.

Taking hold of all of the energy bursting at the seams within the totem, Fang turned it towards the elder.

Sheets of energy became so thick between and wrapping around the two, that it began to obscure them from the sight of the onlookers.

Fang and HorAhai began to blend. Fang had flashes of a proud, strong warrior leading his tribe across the plain atop horseback, pushing them to new heights. Only to grow old and be forced out of power and into the position of an elder by a physically strong but incompetent leader. He was forced to watch the legacy he built up over a lifetime torn down in decades.

And HorAhai saw into Fang. He saw the endless hoard that was coming. He saw the price of failure. And he saw what needed to be done for a chance of stopping it.

Once he saw it, HorAhai agreed wholeheartedly and began to pull in the energy Fang was feeding into him.

The faith energy built and built within HorAhai, until a flash that dispelled this energy, covering them in a wave billowing out across the ground, HorAhai changed, and Faith energy seared down the threads connecting him to the people.

Collapsing as the wave washed over them, the Rowhean tribe members fell to the ground unconscious.

Even the woman who was being ravaged with invading energies moments before was whole and unchanged, now peacefully sleeping next to her family.

In the place where HorAhai stood, a totem with the head of a horse had taken his place.

As Fang focused and looked into the totem, he could see a majestic stallion sleeping. Soon, he will burst forth and race across the plains once more, leading his tribe.

Snorting in contentment, Fang turned to the bowing High Priestess, "When they awaken, help them bond to their narooh, then send them out. We must gather as many tribes as we can… our numbers are too few to face what is coming alone."

"Yes, Ancestor, I agree."

With a jerk of his head, Fang staggered a few steps, then flopped to his side. "I need to rest before I am forced to only focus on controlling the energy the tribe sends me."

"Rest will Ancestor, we will handl—

The last of the memory Fang had been holding off washed over him.

**********

for his memories, they will be pushed to another sliver of his soul. A first and last gift to that portion will matter little to the debt already owed, and at least then, he will know the consequences of inaction or failure.

"I understand, administrator." The voice wined, "How mus—

**********

The memory ended, and Fang passed out.