Brexton walked onto the wall walk of the gate, passing by embrasures, gaps that would let archers shoot in the apocalyptic event that the domain system broke and there was an invasion. He looked down in the dark expanse of the canopies with a pounding heart, wondering why in hell he was going to tell the entire forest he was there—

—but he had no choice.

All he could do was pray that the spell he was given actually helped him instead of sealing his grave. He thought back to the meeting he had with Caragon the night he was contacted. The man had given him a spell to use on the wall.

So… has anyone actually used this? Brexton had asked when he got it.

No one living.

That’s promising.

It’s actually been a few millennia since it was used.

Not even during the Last Conquer?

No. Whoever’s giving this order’s been a ghost. Not just for a few millennia but since long before that.

Interesting… Brexton was intrigued. There was someone pulling strings at Romulan’s level, but there hadn’t been a hint of who they were. That wasn’t to say that gods didn’t know. There were high gods on the Council of Dranami, like Mira’s patron, Elana, who had been around for hundreds of thousands of years—but those gods were bound under secrecy laws as strict as the Claustra on some matters. Yet they were open about some, leading to some grand conspiracy.

Plus, there was the message.

Come on, Brex. Do you think your patron would want to kill you?

Brexton turned to him with a thin smile. All these years, and you don’t know shit about the Claustra.

Brexton returned to the moment, feeling the wind ruffling his jacket’s sleeves as he looked down at the canopies from Galfer’s gate, wondering how the trees grew a thousand feet tall and why the Founders—those who created the interplanetary domain system—chose that point for the domain’s boundaries.

He chanted the spell.

Suddenly, a high-pitched sound blasted from his body, making him cup his ears and fall to his knees. It was nearly silent from the top of the wall, and he didn’t think it would go far, but a moment later, hundreds of birds swooped up from the canopies and prepared to attack.

Multiple shot over the barrier in a split second, and their bodies burned with blue runes as they were cursed. They immediately turned and flew away, falling into the canopies as the rest glared at Brexton contemptuously.

Twenty minutes later, they left, and the world was silent once more.

Brexton sat there for another twenty minutes, feeling vindicated for being wary of coming to the top, and then finally stood. No one but birds showed up. Perhaps they had language, but they didn’t speak. It was unknown. So he waited another hour, feeling like he should leave, but as he was considering leaving, he heard a humanish-whistle, and his arms freckled with goosebumps.

Speak, a male voice said in his mind.

Brexton got up and saw a tiny silhouette in the darkness, fluttering on the other side of the gate—edging the domain. It was a Drokai, an actual Drokai. He didn’t believe they existed, let alone that they would actually come to his summons.

Speak, the Drokai repeated.

Yes… the Great Guardian has a message for you. They say that the presence of their pupil, Mira Hill, has rekindled in Areswood. The legacies and middles are gathering to meet her, and the Last Conquer is rebuilding support in the multiverse.

The voice sneered. His pupil is causing this?

His… Brexton thought but continued smoothly. They request that you spare her from the war. He says she’ll be critical and that the judgment was Yakana’s, not his own.

Unbelievable. Leaves us dry during the last war; now, he’s sparking another and telling us not to remove the cause. Is that right?

Brexton considered lying to probe for information, but this wasn’t his place. This order was from Romulan himself, a simple message of multiverse-level importance to deliver a message—

—and it was big.

The Oracle’s interface and functionality was an implant all people and companions were given at birth or upon integration. It recorded all words and interactions, soaking in all the information that people wrote, spoke, or even thought. Lastly, it connected to particles that the oracle pumped into every world, using the user as a power source, allowing it to create topographical maps ten miles from each neophyte at any given point, cross-referencing it against their database.

The result was an illusion that the Oracle knew and saw all, but the fact was, if there wasn’t a person within ten miles of any given location, the Oracle could only see with satellites or plants—

—something Areswood had defenses against.

The Oracle was blind and the only way to communicate with people on the ground was if there was another implanted neophyte in an area that supported the Oracle’s particles—or if they used a courier like Brexton. And, unless the Oracle was lying, there were no active implants in the Areswood Forest except for the annually released beasts during the Harvest, so couriers were the only option.

Brexton was that courier. That’s all he was, and he wouldn’t go against Romulan’s orders or overstep. So he pushed down the urge to probe, kept an emotionless face, and said:

“I’m just a courier. I can’t speak for the Great Guardian or his associates.”

The Drokai eyed him suspiciously. “Send this message back: We may comply—but we will never forget.”

Brexton bowed and smiled. “With haste.”

The Drokai flew back into the canopies, and Brexton crashed onto the ground, chuckling maniacally with a blank mind. He had been given a level of knowledge that he couldn’t imagine possessing.

He had learned that Elana was not Mira’s primary patron—she was a blessed sub-class or a limited patron. His beautiful cash cow had pulled off something more incredible than anyone could imagine.

Second, a male god, someone above even Romulan, acted as a guardian of the forest.

Third, the reason everyone from the Last Conquer was wiped out wasn’t because beasts or disease or poisons killed them—it was because there were armies within the forest.

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Lastly, the Drokai, the fabled tiny humans with wings that had been spoken about since before the Oracle but had yet to be recorded—existed.

The best part was that if he told a damn soul about any of it, within strict limitations set for his security, his soul would undergo horrifying torture before being shredded to pieces. But. But! Brexton could make every move, play every piece—live his entire life around the knowledge he had just learned.

Brexton turned and looked over the embrasures into the Third Ring. There, proliferating through the Third Ring, were thousands of tents. Mira’s existence captivated millions; the Domain Quest and godly information suppression of her intensified it. Then, Railain Vestra’s success in passing the Bramble “proved” that the strong didn’t even need the Harvest to make it inside. A new wave of fervor was boiling.

It wasn’t another “Last Conquer”—an attempt to end all attempts like before. But there would be another in the future that would bring out people from all across the multiverse. A Last Conquer that lived up to its name. And Brexton Claustra would be at the front of all of it.

He couldn’t wait to learn the secrets the forest held.

2.

I woke up to the sound of symphony bugs and running water. It was just like any other day, but the campsite didn’t smell gamey from the heaps of corpses lying around, trying their best to rot—failing due to Diktyo River water and purification spells I kept giving onto them.

Kline and I walked out of the tent and found Emael staring at us with her large bug eyes.

I blinked twice and then panicked when I saw the barrier locking her in. “Sorry! I’ll shut down the barrier.”

Calm down, human.

I most certainly didn’t calm down. Have I reminded you recently that Emael was the size of a double-decker bus with an anteater's snout that split open like a crocodile jaw, exposing more rows of arm-sized teeth than she had legs? Well, if I haven’t, that’s what was staring at me.

Emael rolled her eyes and lay down. Let’s talk.

I nodded and sat as Kline circled me, finding a good place and lying down. About what? I asked telepathically, feeling a deep intimacy hidden behind her words.

Your guardianship. Have you changed your mind since we first spoke?

Kline looked up at me, and I petted his ears as I thought.

I… a little bit? I said reluctantly. I guess I’m preparing for trouble. And… I feel this… I connected my front teeth and paused. I felt like anything I said would be permanent, but at the same time, I was honest by nature, so I decided to tell the truth. I feel this natural desire to help out, you know? Like, helping you wasn’t to get into your good graces. It was just… something I felt like I should do.

Emael thought about my words and then said, Unfortunately, that isn’t enough.

I turned away, cloistering up. Well that’s all I got.

I see… Emael paused and then said, The Harvest… It wasn’t always called the Black Harvest. For hundreds of thousands of years, it was just called the Harvest.

My eyes widened, and I turned to her. What?

It’s true. It’s only been called that for about a century… since the day Halten was captured.

Wait… what happened?

A war happened. It all started with attempts to conquer the forest, a movement called the Last Conquer, and we all got involved in it. As for Halten and Thorvel…

Emael recounted Halten and Thorvel’s story in gruesome detail, telling me about the coordinated invasion and the hatchling.

After Halten was taken away, Emael continued, the Bramble lost a lot of its power—and the humanoids knew it. People started staying after the Harvest, burning down sections of forests and living off supplies that they got brought during the Harvest. Their morale was high, and each year, people were convinced they’d be part of the group that finally conquered it. And so, they finally put together the ultimate Last Conquer force. People from all over the multiverse showed—tens of thousands of third warriors, specialists, botanists… everything. It was the last battle.

I pressed my fingernails against my palms, heart racing.

We warned them before they entered. If they burned the forest, destroyed the forest, or tried to “conquer” it—we would strike back during the Harvest without mercy.

I swallowed.

They took that as a sign of weakness… but we weren’t weak. They came in and slashed and burned and slaughtered all the second and third-evolution beasts they saw—

—and we slaughtered every last one of them.

I took a sharp breath.

After that, the gate remained closed for fifty years. And when it finally opened again, they sent in five, ten, twenty people. Now it’s back up to a few hundred, but that’s okay. It’s peaceful—and it’s been necessary. They decimated our forest. They culled our ranks and weakened us. We’re still not where we once were, and we would struggle to fight off another attack of that magnitude. But then you came along.

I folded my arms and looked away, feeling anxiety sharpening my ribs. I didn’t ask to be here.

No, you didn’t. And I respect that. But now you understand why Thorvel hates you. Why I didn’t trust you. And why no creature in this forest will at first. Do you understand?

I bit my lip and nodded. I do.

So? Knowing that… if those people returned… What would you do?

I thought about it seriously and then said, If I was in this ring, and I was near them… we’d have a word… I looked away. I don’t know what “a word” looks like, but… I don’t think it would be pretty. And I can guarantee Kline’s “word” would come sooner than mine and it would be much harsher.

Kline meowed and sat.

Emael nodded and turned to the alchemy bag. Empty that, then follow me.

I dumped out the alchemy equipment as if it were trash, then slung it around my shoulder, grabbed Kline like a football, and then left the barrier, touching Emael to let her through. It was early, and Aiden wasn’t out. Sina and the lurvines watched me, and then we disappeared into the forest, leaving them trapped in the barrier with enough food and water to last six months.

3.

Emael and I hiked in silence, moving between trees with quiet steps, sidestepping poisonous moss, and moving around crackling deadfall. Despite being so large, the River Guardian was skilled at navigating, showing a mastery that I couldn’t even imagine.

Aren’t you worried my guide will learn your secrets? I asked guiltily.

If your Oracle were as powerful as it seems, this place would have been conquered eons ago.

Then what’s stopping it?

Our denizens lack the implant that gives you your “Guide.” It can only see through your eyes—that’s wit it wants you here. As for us, we block its frequency. We’ve been at war with your Oracle longer than you could ever know.

Oh… then how does it—

Ask Brindle, for I do not have the answers you seek. Let’s continue.

I suppressed my desire to ask about how it could create dynamic maps and locate resources. It was possible that the people who dropped me off mapped it out ahead of time because I hadn’t used a dynamic map since the first week. I set it aside.

We pressed on, continuing our hike in awkward silence. Things carried on like that for a few hours until we hit a part of the mountain and began hiking. I was winded by the time we got to the first ledge and didn’t think I could continue up the steep incline.

Climb on, Emael said during a break. She presented the palms of her creepy human-like hands that acted as her feet, giving me a boost. I stepped on them, moving up them like stairs as they moved up with a level of control found in cartoons. I giggled slightly as she helped me up, and I sat down on my knees, holding her fur. It was long, so I wiped my palms on my pants, wrapped the fur twice around my hands, and then nodded.

You ready?

Kline hopped onto Emael as if she were short, and then I nodded.

“We are now… please go slow.”

Emael did, scaling the mountain with ease and control that made it feel impossible for me to fall. She was perfectly balanced and soon I forgot we were even climbing and laughed and smiled at how wondrous the situation was.

It was then, lost in that state of wondrous euphoria, we entered another illusionary barrier, and my stomach fluttered with what I saw.