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Johnny 'Iron Consul' Caldwell

My feet are sore and filled with blisters despite the fortitude of my time. Pulling several wagons of weapons, wounded, and the weight of the ramshackle steel we used to make them terrorize the frame of a human body, even an Angelic one. But there are few other physically capable Sigiled remaining who aren't severely injured. All there is to truly pull these things without collapsing in minutes is Lennox, Lennon, Kate, Frank, and I. Blake is hauling her own carriage as well, but the rest of us have at least two connected.

And I'm in the lead with six, leading our disheveled group of survivors through the sparse forests surrounding Gravecross, the city that has become both our beacon of hope and next destination. I still want a home for us all to stay in permanently, but it always seems as though we are constantly on the run. I doubt this will be the place to give it to us because of the old man who lives within its walls and his neutrality.

Nevertheless, Laura promised us shelter once we arrived, and I believe her. She and her two other fallen companions used to protect this place alongside her Lumen. Together, they managed to levy an equal standing with the surrounding Pillars. Scarce few want to invade Gravecross due to its height, so even with lesser power, they kept the peace. And that's all, not to mention the monster that resides within its depths—a man who was once even a rival to Vincent despite his younger age.

Looking back at Laura, however, I find her face darkened and wistful as she rides one of the makeshift wagons. She's already helped us guide the way, and she's still recovering as well. Two of her closest friends are dead. I know the feeling. I think the worst part may be that she already got her revenge, managing to kill the Angelic demon that did it to them.

No matter what she does from here on out, though, I will hold boundless respect for that woman. She traveled hundreds of miles just to try and save the souls of people she hardly or didn't even know. And in the process, her fellow Claws died. But she's not the only one that experienced loss.

"What are you to do now, Phineas? Go back to your wife?"

The old man beside me, with a missing right arm and an eyepatch over the eye on that same side, sighs as he limps to keep up with me. He's too stubborn to ride one of the wagons, but the weathered figure, who has long retired, has done more than prove his strength. He was a legend before I even made a name for myself.

"Maybe. She told me not to come back until it was safe for our grandchildren. Always expects too much of me—wouldn't have it any other way, though. But with Judas passing... I will have to deliver the news myself to Joyse."

I nod along with him as I see Dawn still caring for the patients in the wagons. Phineas has a few weeks until that arm can't come back. He should seriously get her help soon. But I simply continue in quiet. We should be close to the infamous wall of Gravecross—the city upon the sky.

At my side is a massive fox, its fur a blend of russet and charcoal, while the end of its tail borders on the color of bone. Dakota is nearly the size of a full-grown wolf, but the mournful look in his eyes reveals its proper attitude. It's the faithful partner of Wyatt Even when I first met the young man, he had the fox as a tiny kit. It has grown much, just as its master has. The fox's sadness mirrors our own, and it worries for its owner's fate as much as we do. But there is little we can do.

I've spent many months teaching, guiding, and training Wyatt, and beyond that, Marshall did the same. I can only hope that Wyatt survived the fall to the bottom of the plateau, which he probably did, and that he can make it out. He's not even alone, either. Virgil is with him. The former Damned can track us to the ends of the earth if I'm not actively hiding my trail.

They'll find us in no time at all, I'm sure.

And slowly, the trees become more sparse as we walk, having us take fewer side routes for the wagons. Gradually, the sight beyond the forest reveals itself to us. A city I've only ventured within thrice myself—all of which without permission. Most of the Sigiled within Gravecross are retired Hunters or those who simply don't want to fight anymore. Outlaws and those who hate the Estates aren't given free rein here, as per the deal Laura made years ago.

As we approach Gravecross, I'm struck by the sight of its imposing fortifications. It's not a fortress, not at all like Bent, but it's not far from a fortified citadel, especially counting the path to get up here on its own. Enormous walls stretch out in every direction, encircling the city like a protective shield. They rise to a height of twenty feet, their tops bristling with cannons. It's a city that has been through more sieges than any other in history.

I pause for a moment as my feet hit gravel, gazing at the city once more. The other times I entered were using vehicles, so I've never stood before the walls in the past.

Gravecross has been attacked more than any other Territory in history. It was once the forefront of all of mankind. Touted as our last bastion. Something that, were it to fall, we would all die.

Of course, those were in the old days, shortly after the First's fall. Nowadays, well... maybe not so much anymore, but regardless, Gravecross has been peaceful due to its position deep within the Territories.

But as I stand here, I have to wonder. The Graves that created this plateau, this enormous defensive position for humanity, who was he? Which one of Wyatt's ancestors was this? Few first names continue on through history, especially from that far back, but I do wish I knew this man's name.

To uplift the ground nearly a mile into the sky...

He had to have been either the strongest 8th Sigil in the world or not named a Prime simply due to his lineage. There have been many Graves in history that tout extreme strength and personal power, but never, not once, have they ever been called to become Prime. Conceivably due to their inherent mental issues due to their Tomb or their missing trait, but I do have to wonder.

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Who was this man?

A shoulder slides against mine as a woman strides past me, her gait confident and determined as she walks past me and toward the gate of Gravecross. Laura's hair, darkened by the dirt and reddened by the sands, waves in the air as she waves upward to her people who stand upon the walls. Still, as she moves, her right arm is set into a sling. Dawn can only focus upon the most egregious wounds, and all the other medics are the same.

"I have returned! Open the gates! We have injured guests! Bring medics!"

I spot motion blitz into overdrive beyond the walls with my keen eyes at her orders. It takes only a moment before the iron gate is wheeled up, slowly providing us entrance into the fortified city. Once it's open, a dozen people rush out to greet us. One of them, with a massive blade on his back that is larger than the man himself, approaches Laura. I fall beside her as the bald man with a deep alabaster beard speaks while eyeing me closely. His wrinkles seem to glare at me, but without knowing who he is with the possibility of him being who he might be, I keep my mouth shut.

"Where are Remy and William, Laura?"

The rest of the people seem to beeline for the wagons, prompting my right hand to move on its own purely out of instinct. Yet I relax my trigger finger as I see they are carrying medical equipment. But the conversation before me immediately ignites into the highest heat possible the moment it starts. Laura's head falls as her lips quiver.

"Grandfather..."

The woman, younger than Lennon yet still absurdly talented, can barely keep a straight face in front of the man as I quickly realize who I'm talking to. The grandfather of Laura Cift. Canyon Cift—the only man to ever tie the Prime in a battle. Now, this was before Vincent became the man he is today, but Vincent is lauded as never once losing a fight.

And the one he had against Canyon almost a hundred years ago was as close as he ever got. They were both very young at the time, and both of them at their 8th Sigils, fighting over the most childish thing of all—a woman.

That battle cost humanity one of its most talented individuals ever. Canyon was crippled, unable to ever advance his Sigil again due to the damage Vincent left inside his body. So, here he stands nearly a century later with a family to take up after him.

I nod to him in respect as Canyon's face twists in a fury, a rage directed at only Laura. The old man shakes his head at the end of his exasperation. I can't help but stare at him with interest. He is now, technically, the oldest man alive. Vincent is no longer a man. He is a God.

"I told you not to go. What did you not understand about what I said? Vincent's ascension would be happening at any time. Saving those people doomed them both."

Laura, however, does not hold the same respect for her grandfather that I do. She stomps the ground, concrete cracking beneath her boot as her face reddens.

"You! If you had come! We could have—"

Canyon reaches forward, placing his wrinkled and calloused hands covered in a wolf's pelt of a coat that leads up to his neck around her finger that she raises at him. I step back slightly as the man speaks in calm tones that bristle with coldness.

"They could have what? Died a little slower? I cannot protect you and your friends your whole life, Laura. That is why I sent you to Edmund. I am not the man I once was. I have not been for a very, very long time."

The Furious Mountain releases his granddaughter's hand as she stares at the floor. Meanwhile, he turns to face me, a hand outstretched in only a moment.

"Wish we could have met under more gracious terms, Caldwell, but it is nevertheless a pleasure to do so. I have heard much of your exploits from my plateau. I might be willing to join if I wasn't so old."

I nod back at him as his lime-green eyes stare into mine. The Furious Mountain. A Shaman-Soldier mix with incredible might. If only he hadn't lost that fight... Perhaps there'd be a new mountain range in the world, not a new Wasteland.

"A pleasure, sir. I've looked up to you my whole life. But... I do have a very pressing question to ask. This plateau, are we safe? Will the storm invade?"

Canyon steps to the side, motioning for the wagons to enter while the people on them on are cared for. As he does so, he nods to me.

"Of course. Do you know what lies in the heart of Gravecross, son? They leave us alone, not for the Claws or my weakening strength. Soon, I'll show you, but for now, let's get your men settled."

His words are not all that forthcoming, but staring at his aged face, I see little reason not to trust him. Laura has put her life on the line and lost her closest allies to help us all. Her grandfather can't be so awful as to turn on us.

"Of course."

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I crack my neck for a little bit of relief as Lennon sits beside me with crossed legs, Kwakiteh, or more accurately, Mie, on his other side—three Powers against a Virtue, a Forerunner, and plenty of Sigiled. I'd say it's relatively equal if that Power were not Lennon and that Virtue was not Canyon Cift. It is far beyond me to accurately gauge the balance of strength within this room.

The long table in front of us is filled with food, but only Mie is eating. The artifact has far less control over her carnal desires that involve her actual movement. That is fine, though. Gluttony is not all that bad of a sin. Meanwhile, dozens of guards lined the perimeter of the room, making me glad I didn't bring Bonfire or Abraham. Those two sure as shit would have done something stupid.

Blake and Primrose are watching over everyone else for me right now, giving me faith in doing this meeting. While I think of them and how Phineas' arm was regrown by Canyon's personal doctor, the ancient man speaks his mind while cutting open a steak before my eyes.

"The world is changing, kids. I've seen much pass in my time, most of which was spent in self-loathing and misery for a single mistake fueled by rage. But I think, even with Vincent rising, things are not all sunshine and rainbows. The Wasteland left behind will forever be a menace we must deal with from his ascension."

I give Canyon my full attention as the man pauses, taking a small sip of his white wine as I spot his doctor glare at him. The look reminds me of Heath and sends a thousand memories into my mind. Biting my tongue, I refocus.

"But, just as the hurricane of old from Hurakan lessened in the eras of yore, so will the storm. It might take millennia, but it will. The thing is, we have to survive to witness it. I believe that Gravecross is the safest place within all the Territories right now. You are all free to stay as long as you want. Food is a non-issue. While I live, the earth shall be plentiful and fruitful."

The old man finally finishes speaking, and I quickly follow up his words with a question of my own. It's one that has haunted me since I woke up.

"Sir, do you think Vincent can kill her? The one below?"

The possibility of the eldest man failing falls onto all of our faces as it has hung on mine for a full day. Canyon closes his mouth as he leans back on his chair, obviously custom-built for his extra-large frame. Our attention collapses toward him as he opens his jaw once more.

"No. I've known that man for nearly a century. He is strong... even stronger than I probably could ever be."

Canyon taps a scar on his neck as he extends to his head, letting the fur around his clothing show the healed wound. As if using that as an excuse, he continues.

"But, She is a different beast. The other Gods? The ones she's corrupted? Sure—and I think we'll start to see signs. Crackling lightning without clouds. Spreading plagues. Shattered houses. Earthquakes. Whenever Gods act, massive tragedies fall simply from their Ether collecting the Ether around it, let alone when they fall. Plus... over my extensive studies, I have reason to believe that She has a whole Sigil over the other Gods—that is isn't just a personal power difference."

His news leaves a devastating impact on Lennon, Mie, and me. Even the other people in the room, his trusted guards, doctor, and Laura, shudder at the information. I always thought it was odd how powerful the Mother Below was, but there has never been any talk about an 11th Sigil.

Lennon, the one beside me, is the first to recover, a smile on his lips. Dammit, Lennon. He's getting excited.

"How do you know this? Are there some records left behind or something?"

Canyon nods, a bit of insecurity on his face as he replies.

"Yes. There are a few historical tales of a Sigil that go beyond that of the Gods, and they are from before She arrived. Back when we used to have contact with Gods like Gluskab, we were sometimes given broken pieces of knowledge during our advancements. It's said they were nothing like the Lighthouses we now know but were more like becoming one with the universe. Of course, She now disrupts that connection. I believe Her singularity of Ether, such tightly bound Sigils, distorts all else around her."

Canyon pauses as he glances down at the table in longing. I devour the knowledge given to me in but a moment and quickly come to a devastating conclusion just as Canyon's head raises again.

"No one else can reach Her Sigil."

The old man nods, shattering the hopes of many of us. No matter what Vincent does, he'll never be on an even field with that God. The monstrosity that might as well be as old as the entirety of reality. I mean... what could it even possibly take to become whatever she is?

What's above a God?

And... what will it take to kill such a thing?