Charred grass crunches under my foot as I step over the blackened landscape. My bare foot passes through the ash and I debate removing my other shoe. After the fight in the Void Fog, I discovered much of my clothes in tatters. While I am immune to sword swings, everything else I have on me isn’t. I’ve lost one shoe, the left side of my pants and much of my shirt. But all of that meant little because I lost Leal’s jacket.

The sword must have damaged the heat resistance I inscribed in the leather and left it at the mercy of the magma lake. The incredible work of my uncle on the other bits of clothing is the only reason they hadn’t completely deteriorated as well.

So, my first goal is to find some new shoes and a jacket to keep myself safe should it rain again.

I try to ignore the lopsided gait wearing only one shoe does to my step as I walk over the remains of the grassy fields after the pyre. The further I walk, the prouder I become. I only intended to burn the area around the barn, but it went far past my expectations. I’ve already walked what must be leagues and I still haven’t found the end to the spread of the grass-fire.

My legs carry me away with haste. I know I can’t stay here; even if I’m not being chased anymore, I still don’t want to be around in the area when people come.

Maybe I should feel bad for burning someone’s barn and all the crops in the area… but I just don’t. I was able to give all the lost áed a better send off than anyone could have hoped for. It doesn’t matter if they needed it; I needed it more.

As I breach the summit of a hill, the sight of a city comes into view. It’s clearly an ursu city. There is just an obvious difference between the buildings of New Vetus and the ones of the Zadok Kingdom. While it’s good to know the Void Fog didn’t take me too far away, it also means I have a long way to travel to reunite with the others.

I’ll have to travel through ursu land, then that root forest again before trying to get past the wall north of Kelton. And that is just returning to where I started. It will be hard to find the others, but if I can do the same as elder Enya, I’ll be able to cover a lot more land than before. But first, I need new clothes.

The city is far too quiet.

As I come up on the border of the city, I’m confronted with the strange sight of… nothing. There is no movement, no wagons, no ursu moving around, heck I can even hear the wind blowing around the buildings. It’s so quiet.

Between the buildings, down one of the city’s main roads, the only visible change is that wagons appear. Or, well, the remains of them. The Henosis’ metal cars are aplenty, but not a single one is undamaged. Other Empire army supplies and fortifications line the street, but there is a distinct lack of life to go with them.

Were the Henosis beaten? Then where are the ursu?

Well, if there’s nobody here, there’s nobody to stop me looking through the homes.

I climb up the tall steps in the closest building and after searching only two homes, I find a jacket small enough to replace the one Leal gave me. It is still far too large and I have to tie it in half to wear it without it dragging along the ground. I don’t even try looking for replacement shoes, there isn’t a chance I’ll be able to wear any they have.

With something to protect me should it ever rain, I push on through the city. It doesn’t matter where I look, there isn’t a person in sight.

Only when I reach the central section of the city, do I get some idea. Before me is something that can only be called a bloodbath. The plaza below the Continae is painted crimson. Albanic bodies are everywhere, but not one is whole. Torsos and limbs lay everywhere. The worst are the piles of mush pooling in craters.

It’s a disgusting sight. I’ve seen people die before, many of them in horrible ways, but there has to be hundreds littering the area. What did this to them? It isn’t still here, is it?

I twist my head at the surrounding buildings, eyeing each shadow and window in case it’s still around. The city remains as silent as ever.

I’m about to leave as fast as I can before my feet stop under me. My head turns back to the many, many bodies lying here, all untouched. The intoxicating satiety I experienced from the General’s corpse dug into my thoughts. Can any of these bodies give me that same feeling?

Against my better judgement, I return to the massacre. My flames flick out, reaching for both blood and flesh. I attempt to ignore the texture as my fire burns through the area.

I twinge in frustration as none of the bodies satisfy that same need I’d discovered consuming the General. They all seem too… weak? It’s like their flesh is of a lower quality. Like eating those twiggy shrubs when you want barrels of coal.

It just isn’t enough.

I search through them all, cleaning each litre of blood from the ground until you’d be troubled to even know the carnage was here. Nothing tastes even slightly filling and I realise I’ve wasted my time.

It takes until I’m out of the city again to realise the flaw in my thoughts. I burnt through the corpses of hundreds of people, but only cared that they didn’t have enough energy to satisfy me. I haven’t always been like this, right?

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Unnerved by both the emptiness of the city and my own actions, I move out again.

The paved road leads me north for many hours and I can’t help but wish I had a train to travel on. I’m not sure where exactly I am in New Vetus, but the country is huge enough that it will probably take me months to get anywhere.

I still have to try changing into a bird and fly the distance, but I want to find somewhere safe to do so. I don’t know how vulnerable I’ll be while transforming and I don’t want to risk getting caught unawares by whatever slaughtered all the Henosis back in that last city.

On the road ahead of me is a caravan of the Empire’s cars, also devoid of life. There are dozens of the heavy wagons just parked in the middle of the road, abandoned. Upon approaching, a scene not unlike that of the last city appears. Devastated landscape surrounds the cars, with crushed and dismembered bodies lying everywhere. The only thing that remains intact are the cars themselves.

My flames give into greed and consume the bodies as I walk up to the first of the cars. As I climb up, I become aware of the many ursu corpses tightly organised within the storage space. Each body is arranged side by side so tightly, I don’t think it would have been possible to fit more of them in.

What is strange is that the corpses are intact. Well, not exactly intact, as many have numerous bullet wounds and missing limbs, but compared to the albanic corpses around, these bodies seem almost pristine.

Whatever attacked the Henosis obviously avoided damaging the bodies of the ursu. Is it targeting only the Empire soldiers or any non-ursu?

As I look over the ursu corpses tightly compressed in the Henosis cars, the temptation to pass my flames over them rises. The strength of the ursu has to make them more filling than the albanics, right? The feeling of the albanic just isn’t enough. I’m tantalised by the possibility that the ursu might fill that hunger.

I shake my head with aggression to clear the dangerous thoughts. I can’t risk it. Something intentionally avoided these corpses for a reason. If I so much as damage a hair on their bodies, I could be painting a target on my own back. For now, I’ll settle with the minimal satiation I can get from the albanics remains.

I continue to follow the road until it curves to the west. So far, my travel has been incredibly quiet. Neither animals nor people disturb me as I continue forward, which is extremely odd. I’ve passed many farmsteads and ursu homes as I travel. Most of the land seems fine; undamaged, but still abandoned.

Not wanting to follow the road to the wherever it travels in the west, I manoeuvre north and walk through the forsaken farmland. The organised nature of crops makes walking through far easier than it otherwise might have been.

The ursu have massive appetites, and massive appetites require massive farms. I’ve known intellectually that much of the ursu’s land is used for farming. I’ve known that ever since Leal told me, but seeing the vast agriculture spanning between horizons is surreal.

And they just up and abandoned it all.

From the presence of the Empire’s vehicles, I assume that this is a part of the land they have already captured, so it makes sense that they would have left before the area is ransacked. That also means I should be closer to the isthmus, which is a lot further away from Zadok than Morne was.

It will be fine as long as I haven’t somehow landed myself on the completely annexed eastern half of New Vetus. If I have, then travelling north will do nothing but take me to the sea.

Even the thought that I might be stuck in the Henosis Empire controlled territory doesn’t worry me too much. They are obviously dealing with something far more threatening than I ever could be and even if I end up walking toward the sea, I can always walk back. It will take a long time, but my trip is probably going to take a while anyway. I have hope that flying might let me travel the normally months’ long journey in a reduced time, but I’m in no rush.

I’m feeling great just experiencing my freedom while I have it, after months of being stuck in that cage. After even longer stuck in that furnace. Being able to fly excites me immensely, not just because I’ll be able to travel freely, but because of the limits it removes. The wall in Zadok won’t block me, oceans won’t stop me, and mages will not catch me.

My chest is giddy with the thought of flying. Elder Enya once told me what it was like, but the wonder I’d experienced was subdued by disappointment when she told me it took her decades to manage it.

To be able to twist her form enough to fly, she had to increase her binding with fire to a rank far higher than normal. She sacrificed all her time to raising it, neglecting the improvement of her control and temperature to focus solely on her binding with fire.

So, the fact that mine has risen to where it is in such a short time is odd. What exactly is the Void Fog to morph my very being so deeply? If it has changed me so much, what other beings might it have changed?

Now that I think back to it, I should have realised sooner. All the creatures I came across within it were far different from what I am used to. The sand-worms acted far more aggressive than normal and they launched themselves out of the sand like bullets. It also explained why the colossal-worm was far larger than normal.

That ursu, the one far larger than any other I’d seen. He helped me. He knew what was going to happen, he must have experienced it himself. Is that why he is so large? The Void Fog twisted him to be far larger than normal?

The fog didn’t make me any taller, so how it decides what it changes must be something unique to each creature. The magpies too, other than there being millions of them, I’m unsure what was different about them. They didn’t look physically different, either.

A sudden thought slaps me and I’m ashamed I didn’t think of it before. Is the big ursu the one going around killing the Henosis? He tore open the thick steel of the train capsule I was trapped within with ease; he would definitely have the strength to crush the albanic in the ways I’ve seen.

I’m conflicted about the giant. He broke me out of that train, and then helped me in the fog, but the amount of damage I’ve seen left in his wake leaves me terrified of his strength. Even his presence had me freezing up, the sheer power he exudes is overwhelming. The fog has enhanced me, but I don’t believe I could survive for a single second if he ever directs his strength towards me.

I can turn my body ethereal now, but I still believe a punch from his enormous fist would be enough to end me, regardless of physicality. If I can do anything about it, I’ll try to steer clear of wherever he is. On the small chance I come face to face with him again — and I’m unable to avoid him — I’ll thank him properly.

Ahead of me I spot the perfect place to hide away to try my change. It’s an old looking shed sitting beneath the shade of a couple of trees. The building looks decrepit and unused, perfect to hide away for a while when I have to worry about people coming across me in a more vulnerable state.

I pick up my pace, approaching the only door into the shed.

In an area where I haven’t seen or heard any sign of life in almost a day, you can colour me surprised when the door slams open and I’m suddenly looking down the barrel of a gun.

To think the only place I thought would be a good place to hide would happen to hide the only living soldiers I’ve seen.