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Lines of shadeling orcols stretched down the muddy street, while rain fell all around. They waited for their turns at the paperwork stations, or for the Mind Mage on duty. Poi’s line was the quickest by far, but very few of the 327 remaining shadelings of the commune wanted to go to him. His line was only thirty two deep.

Poi’s line was still gaining members, though, for the main lines had complications.

A little ways away, those main lines sat underneath [Domain of Light]. There were six desks, each manned by four different people. Only one of those people actually engaged with the shadeling standing in front of them. The other three were a mix between backup for any violent situation that might occur, and clerking staff. They occasionally blipped away to come back with more paperwork, before rapidly taking their position back at the side of the person actually conducting the exit interview.

Erick looked upon one of those interviews from far away, checking up on them as was his power, while he kept eyes and ears out in all directions, and watched as more and more shadelings came out of the depths of the commune, to either try their luck at running the blockades all around the broken housing development, or to try their luck at the desks. No one made it through the blockades of light and stone and ice all around the commune, though. Either Erick bumped them back into the commune area himself, taking personal control of his Domain to lock down the shadeling trying to sneak through, or the minor mountains of ice-stone golems did the same, but with much more violence.

Erick watched, as a man approached a desk.

The shadeling stepped into the Light, becoming something more solid and shivering, like every other shadeling before him. Another step took him under the [Weather Ward] cast over the desk and the people in front of him. He wore rags and dripped rainwater, but he wiped his arms and hands off as best he could; they wanted him to sign paperwork, after all.

The woman behind the desk indicated the gently-glowing green truthstone sitting just to the side. It glowed green, as she said, “All of this interaction will be conducted under truthstone. If you disagree, then you won’t be leaving Treehome today and perhaps not even tomorrow. Your ability to leave tomorrow might be greatly diminished if you choose not to continue, for who knows what will happen if you don’t get out of here while you can. Do you wish to continue?” It was a phrase she had said many times already. The stone remained green all throughout.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well.” She said, “State your name, date of birth, tribe and Treehome tribe, if applicable, and affiliation, if you have one, and if anyone will vouch for you.”

“Deckari Sideril-Nosier. 1, 5, 1407. Tribe Sideril of Nosier, Adventurer’s Guild. Uh. My team was Rapple Leaf Four. The team goes back about four years. They’re still out there, last I heard. They won’t vouch for me, though.”

The woman listened to Deckari and watched the truthstone out of the corner of her eyes. It had never varied from green. She took a paper from a stack to the side and slid it across the desk to him, then indicated the cup of pens, saying, “Write all that down.”

Deckari did so.

When he was nearing completion, the woman asked, “Why won’t your team vouch for you?”

Deckari finished his end of the paperwork, then prepared himself. He said, “Shadeling Cultist.”

Erick had been about to move on, but instead he watched the interaction a bit closer. The people beside the woman at the desk stood a bit straighter, their eyes focusing a bit more.

The woman kept a calm voice, as she grabbed another form from a different pile. With a small spell, her own pen began to float in the air, hovering over the new sheet of paper, ready to fill out the worksheet on her own. She asked, “And how did that happen?”

The pen moved, waiting for the answer.

Deckari paused. He said, “We did the Candlepoint thing, getting dark chips and all that. We got one New Stat fruit apiece, and then I was the first to get their second New Stat. First was Intelligence. Then came Constitution. That was when I turned shadeling. That led to some… hard conversations. They took me here.” He choked up, briefly, then fought on, saying, “I was in here. I looked to the gods for help, but when I called their names, they didn’t respond and I bled when I continued to call out. But Melemizargo answered me.” He spoke stronger, saying, “And he helped me through this really tough time. More than Aloethag ever—” He winced. Blood dripped from his nose. “It’s more than the Red Woman ever did for me.”

The truthstone stayed green.

The pen had written down most of what Deckari had said, but not exactly as he had said it. Looking over her shoulder, Erick saw that nothing was too off about her account of his account. But the woman had written down in a separate part of the form regarding the weaknesses that Deckari had displayed. ‘Can’t speak about other gods without bleeding’ and ‘Melemizargo targets shadelings for conversion’ were among the notes in that second box.

The woman said, “Since you’re a Cultist, you have extra requirements for leaving Treehome.” Her pen waited as she got out more paperwork. She set that down and moved the pen over it, as she started, “First: Your contacts in the Cult.”

“A lot of them are dead.” Deckari said, “A lot of us are like that.”

The truthstone stayed green. The woman wrote down Deckari’s answer. It was not the first time that someone had given Deckari’s answer, and it wouldn’t be the last.

And his answer was not good enough.

“I still need names.”

“Omaz, though I didn’t know him as Omaz. I knew him as Light. That’s what he went by when he spoke to others in the city, who I also tried to stay away from. I don’t know those people’s names either. There were also a few of the guards on the other side of the wall.” Deckari said, “I tried to stay away from them, too.” He maintained his calm facade, but Erick, and everyone else, could tell he was angry at those nameless, faceless guards.

“Which shadelings in the commune? Which guards?”

“I don’t know their names. Initiate Cultists don’t get to see the faces of their compatriots.”

The truthstone stayed green.

“Typical,” said the woman. “Every fuckin’ time. Look. Give me something, or you ain’t getting out of here today.”

The implication that he would never get out, at all, ever, was left unsaid.

Deckari said, “I did know the guards were from Block 6 and 7. I never knew their names, either, but I knew their faces.”

“Only halfway useless, with a better chance of making us second guess our own people than actually helping. Just like a fucking Cultist.” She asked, “Tell me straight: Did you participate in the day’s battles?”

“I shot some spells at the guards who tried to kill me last week; yes.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “What spells? Did you kill anyone?”

“[Chain Lightning]. Yes. I killed the guards— the Cultists from Block 6 and 7. The ones I was talking about. You won’t have to worry about watching your back, because I killed them for trying to kill me.”

The woman’s pen stilled. Erick stilled, too. The truthstone flickered pink.

The man rapidly added, “I mean. I don’t know if you have to worry about watching your back. I only knew about the ones who tried to get me.” Somewhat repeating himself, he said, “I killed the Cultist guards who were planning on harming me. The ones from block 6 and 7.”

The truthstone stayed green.

The pen resumed writing, as the woman asked, “Is the Cult big on murdering itself?”

“When other parts of the Cult get out of line with Melemizargo’s goals, yes.”

The woman almost sighed. She didn’t want to ask this next question, but she did, anyway. “Did Melemizargo put you up to killing those other Cultists?”

“No.” Deckari said, “I just saw the chance to kill the people who had promised to kill my old team if they ever came to visit, and I took it.”

“… So you still harbor some love for your old adventuring team?” She glanced at the paperwork. “Rapple Leaf Four?”

“Of course I do.” Deckari was hurt at the woman’s insinuation, whatever she could have been insinuating with those words, but he let it go. “I told them to stay away. They only stayed away after I converted, though.” He said, “I am truly a Cultist. You can’t fake that. Melemizargo doesn’t like that.”

“… Okay.” The woman said, “If you were not a Cultist, I could offer you a third choice of getting your paperwork vetted that would be that. But since you’re a Cultist, and you have admitted to killing some guards… Who were also Cultists, according to you, you have two choices.” She pointed with both her finger and the floating pen at Poi, across the street, saying, “Archmage Flatt’s Mind Mage is the fast way. He’s over there. I suggest you forget about all of this paperwork and just go to him.” Then she and her pen pointed to the right. “They’re the start of the slower way.”

She had indicated a circle of stone and glass and crystal, sitting out of the [Domain of Light], under the rain, where four people stood to the four corners of the magic circle and held their hands high, as a shadeling stood in the center. Magic flashed. The four casters and the shadeling began to glow. The casters glowed white, with a bit of grey and a bit of red. The shadeling glowed grey with a lot of black, and a little bit of red.

According to what Erick had seen before, that meant that everyone in that circle was guilty of killing someone, but it wasn’t outright murder.

Deckari frowned. He glanced at Poi, then turned toward the circle of casters.

The shadeling in the center of the circle was directed to the right, to another desk. They had passed their test. They got to continue onto the next set of paperwork.

Another shadeling walked into the magic circle. The casters raised their arms. The shadeling glowed bright red this time, almost instantly. That brightness barely had a chance to get out, and the shadeling barely had a chance to plead for mercy, before the air flexed and the shadeling imploded into a head-sized ball of gore.

Someone cast a [Cleanse] on the gore, vanishing it into thick air.

Deckari turned back to the woman behind the desk, pleading, “I know I killed those guards and I’m sorry but they deserved it. They were Cultists, too. Can I please have leniency for these facts?”

The truthstone stayed green.

Without remorse, the woman said, “If you leave the line now and fail to go to the indicated options, you will be hunted and killed where you stand.” She said, “We want this commune emptied today. You have two avenues open to you. Pick one.” She briefly gestured toward Poi again, saying, “The monsters the Mind Mage finds aren’t getting instantly killed, but all us normal people can do is summary judge your sins with a Seeker. So I suggest you go to the Mind Mage, and try your luck there, monster.”

The truthstone stayed green.

Deckari had hoped for a different outcome than what the woman had given him. He had hoped that his circumstances would have given him that third option, that the woman had taken away. He only had two choices before him. One was certain death. The other was less certain.

To be sure, he said, “If I hadn’t have told you about the Cultist thing and the killing thing you would have judged me as a person, and not as what you see before you.”

The woman said, “Correct. And then we would have found out later and executed you upon the reveal of your lie.”

Deckari reluctantly got in line for Poi.

It would be a while before he got to the front of that line, so Erick mentally marked Deckari and moved his sight elsewhere.

- - - -

A woman tried to kill a desk clerk. She was executed where she stood, with spells and attacks coming from seven different directions, all at once. Erick’s contribution to the fight was the deflection of the woman’s heart-piercing magic, saving the desk clerk’s life.

A hundred shadelings passed their investigations. Erick helped them on their way to Candlepoint.

A trio of men tried to murder the Sin Seekers at the magic circle. Erick intervened, faster than anyone else, saving the lives of the Sin Seekers. The trio failed in their attempt. They died.

- - - -

Erick watched as Deckari watched as Ophiel took a woman away in a flash of light.

Deckari stepped up to Poi, looking grim, and resigned.

Poi asked his questions.

Deckari reluctantly gave his consent.

The scan happened, and then finished.

Poi said, “Deckari Sideril-Nosier. Cultist. Mostly solo. Tried to get others involved in the Cult. He has murdered in a calculating and purposeful manner, but the guards he murdered were purposefully inciting the war of the day. According to other people I have scanned, and Deckari himself, those guards were also Cultists, so if we were to overlook the fact that Deckari is a Cultist himself, and that the targets were technically part of Treehome’s forces, he would have been given honors in any other situation.” He narrowed his eyes at Deckari, and said, “The vigilantism is frowned upon but your circumstances were valid. When you get to Candlepoint, join the guard or the adventuring guild there. It is not a true Guild, but they’re trying to get that approval. For now, and if you wish, you could be helping to feed yourself and others the rads you need to survive.”

To Poi’s side, a clerk and their floating pen wrote down everything then filed that paperwork away in the appropriate wooden box.

Deckari stood stunned. He breathed out, and he failed to breathe back in; his jaw open in astonishment. And then he gasped. He sniffled. He breathed fast a few times, then shut his mouth as tears threatened. Others in the line watched on, as Deckari walked over to Ophiel, muttering, “Thank you.”

Ophiel whisked him away to Candlepoint.

Erick felt a fraction of relief.

The next person stepped up to Poi, and Poi gave his speech, asking for consent.

The woman said, “I consent.”

Poi began his scan.

- - - -

Erick watched as Deckari stepped onto the black ground of Candlepoint.

The Guardmaster of Candlepoint, Slip, said, “I got an eye on you.” He pointed upward, toward an Ophiel floating overhead. “But Erick’s got a hundred.”

Deckari said, “Heard and understood!”

Slip nodded. Then he asked, “Now what do you want to do with your life?”

“Adventuring seems great to me.”

“Then you’re gonna want to talk to Zaraanka Checharin of the Pink House or the guildhouse. Human woman, likes to wear pink.” Slip pointed. “It’s that way.” He thumbed behind him, toward a squat, black building. “And that’s the Dark Temple. If you want to try your hand at turning back to what you were before, you go in there, and you might come out alive but you won’t come out whole. We got healers on standby for that. Try it or not, I don’t care.”

Deckari locked eyes with the Dark temple, then tentatively asked, “What about open worship?”

“Nonexistent.” Slip said, “I’m watching you. I’ve got you in my book.”

Deckari flinched, then said, “Heard and understood!”

Deckari strode off toward the Pink House, trying not to smile too wide.

The bright blue sky showed through gaps in the clouds, as a cool wind blew from the north, and shadelings lived out in the open, all around, without fear. Well. Maybe a little bit of fear. Deckari glanced up at a squadron of robe-type summoned creatures, hovering above the white Crystal in the center of town, while more robe-summons crawled out of the artifact’s white surface, to gather into more formations, to go wherever they were meant to go.

Deckari glanced around, and saw no other summons, though. Perhaps he was looking for the armored ones that he had seen, back when Candlepoint was ruled by a Shade.

Ophiel hovered high in the sky, in his diffuse lightform self, barely a glow on the sky as he watched the new addition to Candlepoint find his way, while spying on many other current events. Erick turned most of his attention back to his own body, though he was never too far away from any of his Ophiel.

- - - -

Erick wasn’t that far away from Yggdrasil, either.

But sometimes it felt like that to Yggdrasil. Possibly. Maybe. He wasn’t quite sure what anything felt like, except for the water, and the waves above, and the darkness and the light. He checked up on Erick almost all the time, keeping a [Scry] eye close and active to his creator, but that was not the same as being there. Which was fine. He didn’t think he liked moving all that much. When he tried flexing a branch, it was the most awful feeling in the world. It was like flexing a branch! And wasn’t that awful.

But when he grew that branch. Oh! That was practically wondrous. It was a sense of progress, a sense of distance passed, and a sense of being that much closer to the world around him.

There was a lot of world to get close to, after all, and he was so very small, with such very small thoughts. Thinking was a bit difficult, but he could still do it if he thought hard enough.

What was ‘thinking’, anyway?

He was certainly getting something resembling thoughts through his connection with Erick, but they were shadows of a truth that was just out of his reach. Erick spoke of waking from dreams, one time…

Or maybe Erick had thought that idea around a space currently occupied by Yggdrasil? And Yggdrasil had just picked it up?

Yggdrasil wasn’t quite sure.

He wasn’t quite sure about anything.

And what was going on with all the destruction happening around Erick right now, anyway? And those words he had spoken. End, and Peace. There had been Power in those words, and though the first one was interesting, the second one felt better. Like a firmament laying down, giving layered rise to new growths, where the tangled roots of possibility stretched out into time’s eyes and soaked through the matter of the world, drawing forth new perspectives in the tumbled light and shadows…

Yggdrasil imagined leaves and branching patterns of fractal might and other nebulous things, like people riding goats through the dark water and turning lights to flowers in the air, as shadows were people and people became shadows and the abyss was just the start of another, deeper world...

Ah.

It was time for dreams, apparently.

Yggdrasil didn’t quite sleep, but he wasn’t quite awake, either.

Even when he was awake, an argument could be made that he was actually, truly asleep.

- - - -

They had seen the battle in the sky, of course, for they had been out on the town at the time, but they had not participated except to make themselves scarce, and to then run back to the hotel after it was all over. It was only then that they got an update from Poi, and from others.

Jane frowned as Kiri repeated the news, after Teressa denied it wholeheartedly.

Kiri tore through her bag of clothes, muttering, “Where is my good dress—” She stopped, and rounded at Teressa, saying, “It’s true! And we need to prepare! Part of that is not looking like we just came off the street!”

Jane joked, “But we did just come off the street.”

“You!!!” Kiri ignored Jane as she ripped into her second bag.

“It can’t be true.” Teressa said, “Erick wouldn’t— He wouldn’t do that? He wouldn’t help the Cult? Against Treehome?”

Jane said, “If he had a good enough reason, I’m sure he would have.” She added, “And if we’re going to war, what’s the point of clothes?”

“Only you would say that! We’re not at war yet, so don’t go putting us at war when we could step back from the edg—” Kiri stopped tearing into her second bag of clothes, saying, “Right! I have [Clothe]!”

She shimmered like a magical princess, and Jane was a little bit jealous when she came out of that shimmer wearing earrings made of silver and diamonds and green gems darker than her scales, along with a classy, white dress.

“Ah ha!” Kiri said, “I knew I brought it!” She kicked her bag to the side of the room, venting her anger just a bit.

Jane said, “Why did you ever bring that?”

Kiri rounded on Jane, saying, “Because I knew that sometimes our battles would not be ones of swords or spells, Jane.” Kiri dropped her anger like it was poison, for it was, and adopted a perfect facade of poise and grace, as she said, “This is going to be a battle of politics and nobility well before it turns into a war of swords and spells, and if you can’t do that, then you should stick to the shadows and stick to what you’re good at, but I, for one, am going to stand by Erick with all of my might.” A Sunny coiled around her neck, becoming both a necklace and a scarf, as Kiri turned to Teressa, saying, “And you! What’s your damage? Erick told us that he is helping the shadelings. Not that he is helping the Cult!”

“But all the shadelings in the commune are a part of the cult.” Teressa said, “That’s what everyone is saying.”

“Obviously you have been lied to.” Jane said, “If they were a part of the Cult, then they wouldn’t have been changed to shadelings by taking in multiple New Stats.”

“Okay. Okay.” Teressa said, “Probably. But Erick went and stepped right into all of it… Erick wouldn’t do anything too crazy, would he?”

Kiri’s eyes went fractionally wider, but they could have gone much wider than that.

Teressa said, “Okay. I realize how stupid I just sounded.” She went to her room, saying, “I know I brought something...”

Jane said, “I’m not playing dress up.”

Kiri deflated the perfect amount to show displeasure as she looked Jane up and down, and said, “Please get over yourself and put on something better than leathers and dirt. Before the day is done, we will either be fighting for our lives, or talking to people a thousand rungs higher on the social ladder than us. [Conjure Armor] can make up for the first eventuality, but it will not do for the second. They will look down on us if we wear fake clothes. They always do.”

Teressa called out from her room, “Orcol society isn’t as shitty as your own, Kiri.”

“And yet you’re still changing!”

“… And yet I am still changing.”

Kiri glared at Jane.

Jane frowned, then went to her room.

In two minutes, the three of them were ready. Kiri, with her classy white dress and surrounded by floating couatl-shaped Sunnys. Jane, in a black dress with a slit up the side that made moving easy and could be discarded at a moment’s notice for [Polymorph]ing. Teressa, in a three-piece suit of grey with silver accents.

Jane said, “I like that, Teressa.”

“It’s my uniform for official parties. Cost way too much.”

Kiri asked, “We ready? I’ve scouted a good location and I’m blipping us close, but not too close.”

“What the fuck?” Jane asked. “Just get us right in there next to dad.”

Kiri said, “We’ll have to walk in, Jane. That place is laced with [Teleport Trap]s of the ‘instantly clasped in irons’ variety. I didn’t get to see much of it because they popped Sunny several times, but some trio of noble-looking orcols blipped right into the commune, right where some guards were waiting for them, and then other guards came in and locked them all in chains, including the ones that allowed the others to come into the commune. If we blip in there, then we will be roughly escorted to a tiny cell, and besides that! I got a chance to speak to him, as I’m sure you did, too, and Erick has asked us to be as polite as possible… But if things look to go bad, then… We’ll figure something out. If things do go wrong, Erick will probably be better off without us there… Maybe we shouldn’t go at all.” Kiri asked, “So. Are we going in? Are we doing this? This is dangerous.”

“I’m going in, and you two are welcome to join me.” Jane said, “If nothing else, I can be another pair of eyes to watch my father’s back.”

Teressa tried a joke to lighten the mood, “Silverite would kill me if Erick died on us and I wasn’t there to protect him.”

“Good. I thought so, but… Yeah. I need to be there, too. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t go and he ended up needing me.” Kiri said, “Short-term spells, then.”

Jane started running a few spells. Teressa did the same. All three women steeled themselves, and then a couatl touched each of them, and then they were gone, out of their hotel room at Arbor O’kabil, and onto a flat spot of land in the middle of nowhere, that was slightly in sight of the commune.

“Ah. Shit.” Jane said, “That looks bad.”

Across a few hills, past a sparse treeline, was a land of broken shadows and solid light, surrounded by icy stone and even more solid light. Rain fell, but it was a light drizzle.

“It’s worse up close.” Kiri said, “They’re shooting down everything that flies over there.”

As if her words summoned the action, several sparkling spells exploded in small amounts over the commune.

“Just like that,” Kiri said. “More [Scry] eyes, maybe.”

Teressa grunted. It was go-time, and she had few words to spare, anyway.

Jane took the lead.

They met a blockade within moments of passing over the first hill. A low wall of hastily-erected stone had been put up by someone, then manned by guards standing atop that low wall. Their wall wasn’t even the largest one in the area; that designation belonged to the jailing wall that formed the second concentric ring around the commune, past the wall that directly surrounded the commune. The middle wall, the jailing wall and all the guard barracks and towers there, had been broken by some large-scale magics. The commune’s wall was barely visible, but what was visible were ruins and rubble. Where those structures had been broken, solid light had filled the gaps.

“Halt!” said a man in solid, wooden armor, next to the outer wall. He held a spear at the ready as the three women appeared. Him and seven of his guard buddies turned toward Jane, Kiri, and Teressa. “No interference! Leave now, or be locked in chains until this is all over! The other prisons are not full, at all! We can always make more rooms.”

Kiri stepped forward, half a step, saying, “We are here as associates of Archmage Erick Flatt, and wish clear entry into the contested zone. Please allow us entry.”

“Fuck that Cultist lover! We have no obligation to him!” The guard stepped toward them, again, shouting louder, “If you wanted entry in there, that was a bad lie to try! That place is rigged to blow if anyone tries to ‘port in, so don’t go trying that, either.” He stabbed his spear forward. Lightning crackled from the tip and struck the ground in front of Kiri, scattering dirt on her dress. He shouted, “Leave!”

The other guards focused on the three women, though some kept their eyes open for people coming from other directions. They were all on high alert.

Kiri simply asked, “Is there a way to procure travel inside, using legal means?”

“No.” The man brandished his spear. It crackled with electricity. “Leave.”

Kiri half-turned, then said, “Then we are leaving.”

And then she did.

When they were far enough away, Kiri whispered to Jane and Teressa, “There’s another place down the way. We’ll try there.”

Teressa asked, “Rigged to blow?”

“A lie.” Jane said, “I can see the spells they have beyond there, and those look like [Force Trap] but with [Bind] and a few other spells to them. Hard to tell from this far away.”

“They didn’t look like the deadly kinds of traps to me, either.” Teressa said, “I was just wondering if either of you two saw what I saw, too. But that man seemed convinced of what he was telling us.”

“That’s what they told him those spells were,” Jane said. “It’s not lying if you don’t know you’re lying.”

Kiri sighed, “I need [Mana Sight], don’t I?”

“Yup.” “Yes.”

When they were close to the next attempt, Kiri said, “You’ll take the lead on this next try, Jane. Or maybe you, Teressa? You two interacted with that guy more than I did. One of your friends, from the Hunt.”

Jane had looked excited, but then paused. “Who? Which one?”

“That guy. What’s-his-name. The one you actually went Hunting with.”

“… Oh.” Jane said, “We’re not friends.”

Teressa snorted. “Oh yeah. They’re not friends.”

“Gods above and all around, Jane!” Kiri found herself pushed over an edge, and spat, “Why the fuck can’t you be friendly?”

“I tried!”

“She did try.” Teressa said, “But he kept stealing her kills.”

Jane waved a hand, adding, “And then things just sort of… Escalated.”

Kiri locked down her stronger emotions, and said, “Whatever. We’re still trying your not-friend. Try to be friendly, please.”

- - - -

“Kordon!” Jane called out, “My ashy friend!”

The next attempt at the encircling wall was a kilometer to the west, a kilometer closer to Treehome, and Arbor Home’s District. In this place, there were roads and the hills had buildings on them, and Kiri, Teressa, and Jane, were not the only people standing far away from the third encircling wall of the commune, watching the guards, and the land beyond.

Kordon stood atop that low wall, along with several other guards. They hadn’t noticed Jane, Teressa, or Kiri from the crowd, until the three of them had stepped closer than most others were willing. And then Jane called out to them, drawing even more looks, both from the guards up there, and from the people down below.

A nameless guard stepped forward, saying, “Back up, ma’am. Do not approach. Do not engage with us. We are keeping this place safe and we do not need your shit right now. Leave.”

Jane said, “We'll, that's gonna be a problem. See, my father is in there, and I mean to get to him. So I need you to tell me how that’s done, and then let me do whatever I need to do to get that done.”

Kordon leapt from the low wall, to move forward, saying, “I got this, Hurock.”

The first guard, Hurock, huffed, then stepped to the side, saying, “They’re not getting through. Tell them to go away.”

“I know.” Kordon turned to Jane, and from five meters away, said, “Jane. Leave. This doesn’t concern you. There aren’t any humans in there, anyway. It’s all shadelings. Your father is not here. I know you want to play games and shove your tiny weight around, but this is not about a fun hunt right now. They’re Cultists and killers in there, and you are not welcome. Leave.”

“You have no idea why you were beaten so badly, do you? You never really thought about it, did you?” Jane said, “I really didn’t want to do this, but I gotta say, that you’re not too bright. Why were you even called in here?”

Hurock seemed to flinch as though jolted. He took another look at Jane, and sighed.

“I’m an elite guard. Of course they called me in.” Kordon’s voice turned harder, “And you’re stepping too far. Leave.”

“Okay. Fine. You’re an ‘elite guard’ and I’m sorry for that state of your guard if that is true. But I’m not leaving, though. This is further than we got at the other place.” Jane eyed the guards behind Kordon, asking, “One of you has a truthstone, yeah? Well hold it up, and listen good. I’m Jane Flatt, my father is Erick Flatt, and I need to know what the fuck is going on in there with my father.”

Kordon instantly derided, “Gods! You’re a fucking princess! No fucking wonder. How many gods damned artifacts are you wearing right now? Couldn’t beat me in a bout without ‘em, could you!”

Other people had decidedly different reactions. The crowd backed away from Jane. The guards in the area focused on her, entirely. And then the first guard, Hurock, came forward.

Hurock held a green stone in his hands, and said, “I’m not dealing with this shit.” He singled out Kordon, saying, “Since you know the young lady, take three people and escort the women into the commune. Pretend they’re one of the chieftains we let through.”

Kordon almost yelled at his superior officer, but then he locked eyes with Hurock, lost some of his sudden anger, and turned back toward Jane. With narrowed eyes, he said, “Well come on then, princess! You get even more special treatment! Want me to massage your feet for you, too?”

“Absolutely not.” Jane said, “You’d probably be shit at hitting my critical spots just as you were shit at critting that Chimeral Cat.”

Suddenly struck dumb, but then quickly recovering, Kordon exclaimed, “Chimeras don’t have critical spots! They’re five different monsters at the same time!”

Jane pointed at the truthstone in Hurock’s hand, saying, “I crit that Chimera twice and killed it when you couldn’t. And it was easy.”

The truthstone stayed green.

Jane said, “Not my fault you don’t know shit.”

“Kordon.” Hurock said, “Take the women and deliver them to the Archmage. Now.”

Kordon turned around. He jumped back on top of the wall, pointed at three guys, then jumped down to the other side, into the badlands where spells of sharp light still hung in the air. Jane stepped on flowing shadows to reach the top of the wall in one smooth motion, while Kiri stepped on light like it was a staircase, taking quick steps upward. Teressa just pumped her legs and leapt onto the three-meter tall wall in a single bound. The seven of them proceeded across the badlands, with Kordon silently leading the way.

Spells of detection and otherwise noticed, scanned, questioned, and dismissed the seven of them as they walked through curtains of light and trod through bloody mud. The people at the first jailing curtain wall had a few questions about ‘what the fuck is going on’, but they must have gotten their answers from better sources than Jane and her escorts, because that second line of soldiers moved the seven of them right on through the next battlefield, and then to the breach in the commune, itself, where layer upon layer of detection magics filled the air like the spider webs of the Weaver’s Quarters in Ar’Kendrithyst.

The density of the magic here was only visible with [Mana Sight], though. While her father’s [Domain of Light] blocked, corralled, and denied, like a massive glacier, the spider webs sought to trigger and inform those who waited for anyone to step out of line. The glacier and the spiderwebs were almost comparable densities of magic, too.

Jane guessed that they were [Alarm Ward]s, or a variant thereof. As Kordon spoke to the people manning the final barrier to the commune, and finally got them access, he walked forward and triggered several of those alarms. Those spells flickered, sending off signals to others higher on the walls, and out of direct line of sight.

Jane felt tense, but also fluid; ready to leap in any direction at a moment’s notice.

But Kordon got them through the final checkpoint, unmolested. Following Kordon, the three of them passed beyond the final rubble-like wall, to make it inside the commune proper.

Jane let out a breath as she saw the lines of shadelings and the desks and the people in full armor with weapons in their hands, and her father, beyond it all, standing on the edge of a broken building. Light surrounded him like a tumbling river, and yet frozen in time and place. Ophiels flitted about, both in their sunforms, and as winged, eyed, abominations. Poi stood to the side of her father, wielding tendrils of brightest magic, touching upon a shadeling, only to let go, and then declare something too quiet for Jane to hear over the voices of everyone else, all around. It was louder here than Jane would have thought. Everyone was talking everywhere else.

She must have passed a sound barrier back there. She had missed that one, eh?

Kordon gestured to a path in the ground, never raising his hand higher than his own waist. With a subdued attitude much more fitting for the situation than his previous one, he warned, “No loud actions or spells. Don’t raise your hands. No fast actions, either. Follow me. Do not run.” He glanced to the three escorts, and said, “Wait here for me for the walk back.”

The three other escorts just nodded, then stood to the side.

Kordon proceeded forward, and Jane followed. Kiri stepped to Jane’s left, while Teressa took up the rear. Many, many people watched them walk across the muddy land, including every shadeling in the lines, at least once. Those same people and shadelings quickly returned to writing on papers or talking or getting spelled from four different directions at once, by four different mages. Sin Seekers, if Jane had to guess.

The Sin Seekers flickered grey and red, in minute quantities, while the woman shadeling between the four of them glowed mostly grey. No red at all. One of the senior officers at the side, if Jane had to guess, declared the woman clear. The woman bypassed a smaller desk and stepped to a waiting Ophiel, and then she was gone.

Kordon walked Jane, Kiri, and Teressa to the edge of her father’s [Domain of Light], and then he took a step inside. Jane did too, and instantly felt better. Her father was here, and whole, and no one was fighting right now. Some tight knot of discomfort loosened around her heart as she saw him, wreathed in light, and he saw her. He smiled.

“Hey, dad,” Jane mouthed, not willing to speak too loudly.

He nodded at her, but also said nothing.

Kordon guided them to the edge of a [Prismatic Ward], his eyes on Erick the whole time. He went no further. He stepped to the side, saying, “Ladies. Jane. Nice to meet you. I hope the next time you’re in Treehome you don’t cheat in our bout.”

Teressa and Kiri went right through the edge of the [Prismatic Ward], ignoring Kordon. But he did not ignore them, or how easily they moved into the protected space. His jaw opened a little, as disbelief and proof warred in his eyes. And then he sighed.

Kordon said, “I guess you weren’t lying, eh?”

Jane walked into the dense air, too, saying, “Yup. I wasn’t lying about this. And I wasn’t lying about not cheating in our bout, either; not really. I only used three Skills against you, but they weren’t exactly what I called them.” She added, “See you around, Kordon.”

“Stay out of trouble, Jane.”

Kordon walked away, and Jane watched him go, briefly, before glancing at Poi. He was doing the Mind Mage thing, whatever that was, to a willing orcol man. Jane put that out of her own mind, and turned to her father.

He was already talking to Kiri and Teressa, but as Jane came in, he readily included her, saying, “Hey, Jane.” He said to the three of them, “I’m glad you all could make it. I could use your...”

His white eyes drifted away from the three of them as his focus went somewhere else, briefly. In that short moment, magic flared, and the entirety of his eyes shifted to white, his pupils becoming almost too small to see. And then he came back, smiling again, the same man that Jane had always known her whole life, trying to be happy for everyone else while he helped everyone else, and usually succeeded. Sometimes, she wondered if he was truly happy himself.

He said, “I could use your help. A few Treehome Elders have already shown and they’re up there, behind us.” He lifted his head toward the building in the back, saying, “Warchief Koropo is up there. Introduce yourself, Kiri. Show him Sunny. Ask what you can do to help and be diplomatic. Both of you go with her. Teressa, offer your [Witness] if he asks, though I don’t think he will. Jane, I don’t know what he would ask of you, but anything to show sincerity would be good.”

Kiri was polite as she said, “I think you should introduce us to him, Erick.”

“… Right!” Erick said, “Right. I should. Shouldn’t I? You’ve never met— I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m…” He looked away again, then came back, saying, “Everything is moving really fast right now.”

Jane said, “I’m not going anywhere, dad. I’m staying right here, silently observing, and guarding. When the people have gone to Candlepoint and all this ordeal is over, then we can consider optics and politics.”

Erick breathed in, then said, “That’s a better idea than the one I had. Yes. Let’s do that.” He rapidly added, “Thank you for coming in through the front… way…” He looked away again.

When he didn’t come back right away, Jane settled down to one side of her father. Teressa took the other. Kiri stepped to the back, while Sunny spread out around them all; not going too far, but not remaining too close, either.

Jane considered, briefly, the saturated world of color and power all around her, as she considered her own theoretical Domain. But mostly, she kept her eyes on the jumpy crowd and the tense soldiers.

Poi declared the man in front of him, “Not our problem.”

The man instantly roared, “But I—!”

Opheil descended upon the man with bloody countermagics while soldiers to the sides descended with restrictive spells of capture and containment. The entire event was over in a moment, though the man was still alive, and still struggling. The bloody spells kept locking down the shadeling’s magics, as soldiers took him away, out of the line and out of sight.

Jane watched the whole thing happen, knowing that it was not her place to get involved, and so she didn’t.

Kiri, though, went pale at what she had seen. She hadn’t been ready for that.

Poi spoke to a scribe to the side, saying, “Name of Saldrock Waterammer. Cultist. His main offense was that he plotted the murders of an entire noble family over the course of the last three years in Portal, and that he is not done with that vendetta. He plans to keep killing everyone that was involved in a certain event in his life. You will have to give him to Portal, or the Pearl King, or coordinate with them for further action. They would know him as the Belt Killer, and the people he killed as House Harathin. He saw those murders as justice. And they might have been.” He said, “Either way, Portal would want that man. He is not our problem and we cannot harbor people like him.”

The scribe wrote everything down in the appropriate boxes, their eyes going a little wide at Poi’s proclamation. Jane’s eyes had gone a little wide, too, as had Kiri and Teressa’s and several other people both in line, and all around.

“Holy gods… First time for that. Waiting all day long for that to happen—” Erick sighed, saying, “Bound to happen eventually.” He asked, “Why did he think he could come through this line and not get caught?”

“I will not say.” Poi said, “If they don’t kill him right away, then all of that will likely come out at his trial, but it will not come out here, or from me. He did not consent to that when he consented to this Scan.”

The scribe asked, “Cultist connections?”

“Many, and varied. He knew Omaz and several others.”

The scribe said, “Then they probably won’t kill him right away.”

Erick said, “I want to see him delivered to Portal, eventually. He must face justice, and if he thought that he was doing justice, then I must ensure his trial isn’t a farce.”

Poi said, “I will inform Silverite, if you wish.”

Erick said, “Thank you, Poi.”

The scribe said, “I will mark down your wishes, Archmage.”

Jane silently watched as the next person came up to Poi, and Poi gave a tiny speech, asking for consent.

The woman in line said, “I give my consent.”

- - - -

Hours passed.

People died for deaths that they had caused and for which they desired to continue to commit. That desire to continue killing was the only thing that Poi called out, but the Sin Seekers of Treehome judged against all murder, and all Cult connection, no matter the situation or the circumstance. But at the end of the day, only thirty nine people were executed for their crimes.

All the rest went to Candlepoint.

Some of those people just sat under trees and listened to the wind and the sounds of freedom all around, contained in the voices of the people, flowing on the desert wind. They relaxed, unwound, consoled each other, and then moved on. Some did not move on until they got hungry, or had some other necessity. Others went right to talking with the residents of Candlepoint, asking questions and finding answers. Some Cultists met other Cultists, and Erick informed Slip of those meetings, but Slip already knew all of them. He had kept his eyes open and his guard on point, tracking movements and keeping tabs almost better than Ophiel.

The Cult was already there, in Candlepoint, but at this, there would be a small surge in practice. Erick had no doubt that some people would chance open worship. He hoped that Melemizargo’s Clergy would not revive under his watch.

There were no Shades in Candlepoint, according to a [Cascade Imaging] of the area.

Hopefully it would stay that way for a while longer.

- - - -

The muddy roads of the commune were empty of all shadelings. Light no longer hung in the air. Golems of ice and stone were returned to the land and Tenebrae had sent his rock man forward to speak to the guards on that side of the commune, before the rock man left, too, having never made his way over to Erick to speak any further.

Which was understandable. Erick didn’t feel like talking to the rock guy, or Tenebrae, either.

Koropo ordered the soldiers and guards on duty to begin taking down the commune. They readily obeyed, moving in groups of five throughout the dark place. They systematically took down houses and otherwise, first removing the anti-[Stoneshape] runes embedded in the stone, before turning stone to sand, and vibrating out all the stuff that had been inside the houses. Furniture, rags, clothes, brushes, soaps… All the accoutrements of life floated to the top of the sand, while the sand itself was shoved back into the ground. Most of the stuff was burned in great big piles.

Erick watched as another pile went up in flames, to the north. Then he turned his attention back to the stairs before him, which led up to a flat meeting area that had been made for this moment. With his daughter, his apprentice, and his guards following him, Erick stepped up onto that platform, where the people there had been watching him approach for the last ten seconds. Three chieftains had decided to come to the commune, to see the end of the commune, and to speak to him, personally.

Chieftain Peron Wyrmrest, in his diamond-studded green robes, took a place of importance in the center of a half-circle of seats. He was flanked to the left by Chieftain Yura O’kabil, an ancient woman with white hair and lines on her face unlike every other old orcol Erick had ever seen before. She wore silver robes. To his right was Chieftain Bloodwoo Nosier, who had to be the thinnest orcol Erick had ever seen. He looked almost emaciated in his plain tan clothes, but he was also rather tall, at almost four meters tall, so maybe he was a perfectly normal weight for an orcol or his size.

Warchief Koropo sat to Bloodwoo’s right.

And, unexpectedly, Archmage Tenebrae sat to Yura’s left. The human man looked exactly the same as the last time Erick had seen him, all the way back at Oceanside all those months ago; tan skin, white hair and beard, and with a hateful scowl on his face that let you know he did not want to be here.

Erick said to the man, “I thought you had left.”

“Aye. And then they called me back for this.” Tenebrae frowned. “What the fuck are you doing stepping into shit that isn’t your concern? You’re getting tricked by Melemizargo, for sure. You know that, right? He tries to get to all of us, all the time, but you seem to like being in his claws.”

“It’s a matter of principle to help where I can, and to solve problems when I can. It’s not my fault you seem to ascribe this perfectly normal desire to help in perfectly normal ways into being somehow working for the Darkness.” Erick looked to the Chieftains, as he said, “This single problem is now removed from your city. I am sorry how I went about helping the shadelings and stepping over your authority, but everything happened rather fast. So. Apologies for that.”

Bloodwoo spoke, “You will assist us in a large scale culling of specific monsters from the Forest, and we will call it even. You will not be paid for this. It will be expected of you. Further disruptions to the law and further trampling of Treehome’s authority will be met with extreme anger and a deterioration of goodwill. Do you agree?”

No one else said anything else. They all waited for Erick’s decision.

Erick, meanwhile, took a moment to catch up. They weren’t yelling at him? It was right to business? This had to be a trap of some sort.

Erick asked, “Which monsters?”

“Moon Reachers, Deathsoul Shrooms. Just those two, for now.” Bloodwoo said, “We also ask that you be open to completely obliterating the entire Forest and helping to regrow it all afterward. We would, of course, leave certain patches of it alone, so that the proper biologics can take hold of the land once it is regrown. But our prognosticators have not fully vetted this idea. Once they do, we will proceed to the next phase of the plan. If we do end up obliterating the whole Forest with your assistance, you will not be allowed to harvest those rads yourself, but you will instead be granted 10% of the rads we will harvest.” He added, “It is just an idea at the moment, but these are the numbers we are looking at.”

Erick breathed out. He said, “Okay. I agree to the first part, and agree to keep an open mind about the second part.”

Bloodwoo Nosier leaned back, satisfied.

Yura O’kabil asked, “Will you give up the location of the traitor Omaz?”

“No.” Erick said, “He’s soul-shackled. I will not get between you and him, but I have a responsibility to let that play out. I highly doubt that he will be harming anyone except himself anytime soon.”

Yura sighed, then sat back in her chair.

“I am not satisfied with this solution.” Peron eyed Erick. “Neither is Wyrmrest. Omaz has pertinent knowledge regarding the Cult of Treehome, going back decades. We have no doubt that he lived and worked and undermined us since the day he first Matriculated. He stole from our archmages to use that stolen knowledge and power against the whole of our people. Just today, the actions of the Cult and Omaz have killed over a thousand people, with more numbers pouring in each minute!”

Erick steeled away his own emotions, as he said, “And Omaz feels every one of those deaths, more deeply than any pain you could possibly put him through.” Slightly incensed, but trying to keep a cool head, Erick added, “Besides! We all knew what was going to happen when we all decided to pursue this action against the Cult today, Chieftain Peron. The only thing I will be accepting fault for is for taking the shadelings from this place, and for not asking for your permission to do so.”

Peron narrowed his eyes, and said nothing.

Yura said, “It is a cruel punishment you deal in, Archmage Flatt. It is one thing to mutilate the soul of a Shade in order to enact justice, but it is another to do the same to a person. We do not like this outcome, and so, for our own part, we will also seek Omaz. We are not done with him. Not by a long ways.”

Peron added, “We will still seek him out; Yes. We will still deliver our own justice unto his head, after we extract everything useful out of that rotten skull of his.”

Bloodwoo said, “Nosier wants nothing to do with this hunt. We have other, more important targets in mind for the near future. He and I both wish to add that we do not like that Omaz was soul-shackled. We would have preferred the cleaner solution of the executioner’s pyre. As he is, he is an unknown, much like Shade Treant. Much like the shadelings let go today. Much like Candlepoint.” He looked to Erick with deep-set eyes, saying, “Much like you, Archmage Flatt. If anyone else would have done what you have done here today, we would already be trying to string you up above the pyre, as well.”

Erick did not respond to that.

They seemed to want him to, but what wrong had he done that he had not already apologized for? The only truly wrong thing he had done was to enforce his will upon the situation, trampling over the authority of the people who lived here, but because of that, a lot of people who would have died, had lived. Though there were collateral deaths of the innocent kind, and those were unfortunate, but ripping out a tumor does have consequences. There was not a single person on this stage that was not guilty of ‘poking the dragon’, as it were.

… He really should bring that up again, shouldn’t he? But then again, they didn’t seem that angry with him, and if he poked this dragon sitting before him, they would try to poke back. Were they purposefully egging him on to say something that he didn’t need to say? It was quite possible. Highly likely, even.

After a long moment of Erick standing there, and the Chieftains and Warchief sitting in judgment, there was yet another long moment of waiting for something else to happen.

Ophiel whistled a gentle nonsense tune from his spot on Erick’s shoulder.

Yura broke the tense air, saying, “The day’s war is over, but there is much to be done going forward. Archmage Flatt. I will call upon you tonight, in your room. I wish to have a personal discussion with you regarding certain subjects that have no bearing on this here.”

Erick blinked in surprise. “You’re not kicking me out?”

“No.” Yura said—

As Peron said, “Unfortunately not.”

Yura continued, “We are not kicking you out of Treehome. Or anywhere else, for that matter.”

“You are the sovereign of a nation of your own making, Archmage Flatt.” Bloodwoo said, “Therefore we are considering today as a diplomatic problem with a diplomatic solution. To us, you are the new ruler of all shadelings and you merely took your people back.”

“Oh… No...” The weight of Bloodwoo’s words came crashing down on Erick. He said, “That is untrue. I will not accept that designation.”

“Then we will say you are their jailer, for the truth is what we make of it, for we are a much larger nation than yours and all you have power over is a few thousand monsters. We have this prerogative, and this power, and so we will use it.” Bloodwoo said, “Please do not countermand us when we say that you took your people back today, while giving us the ones who sought to harm our nation. It will enable you to enjoy a higher level of political power going forward if we are to speak nicely of you.”

“Well that’s the oddest way anyone has ever asked to fuck me before,” Erick said, “But sure. Why not.”

“Be warned.” Peron said, “If you die or lose control of that city to the Cult then we will turn that land and all the monsters therein to ash and glass.”

Erick put on the best political facade that he could at that tense moment. He said, “Then I will be sure to neither die, nor to let a destructive Cult take over Candlepoint.”

Peron huffed.

Bloodwoo said, “Then, for now, we will be sure to paint you in a better light than we could have in both our official responses to our constituents regarding the day’s events, and in future dealings between our peoples and yourself. Do not make us regret this decision.”

For a little while now, Tenebrae had been smiling, ever so slightly.

And Erick couldn’t take it any longer. He asked, “Why are you smiling?”

“Because!” Archmage Tenebrae answered, “This is how my relationship with Treehome started, too. Though my fuckup wasn’t nearly as large as yours, there are a lot of similarities.”

Erick blinked a few times. He almost pursued that conversation, but then he did not.

Yura answered Erick’s unasked question, saying, “We like to keep the archmages who swing through Treehome as happy as possible, and with as large of a working relationship as possible. If our relationships sour, we attempt to fix them. If our relationships turn to poison, then we will kick you out, and then ban you from all interactions with Treehome. We prefer to never take the steps beyond that one, but we are a nation of millions, and archmages are never as defended as they think. We are a long way from those final steps, Archmage Flatt. I don’t want to see that day ever come, because you are ever so useful to us, and to the rest of the world.”

Peron frowned at no one in particular, but also directly at Erick.

Bloodwoo said, “Even if your murder of all the Shades is but another act of Melemizargo, we do not believe that you are his man—”

Peron interrupted him, saying, “They might not believe what I see before me; that you are, in Truth, the High Priest of Melemizargo. But they will see, in time. We will all see, soon enough.”

Bloodwoo continued, again, “Unlike the minority of my colleagues, we believe you are just a convenient tool for Melemizargo at the moment. But we also believe that you are a convenient tool of Koyabez and Phagar. A pull of deific proportions weighs upon your life, Archmage Flatt, as has happened for many archmages before you.”

Tenebrae smirked.

“Today, the casualties of your blood-soaked Worldly Path have been those who would call themselves the enemies of all.” With pointed words, Chieftain Bloodwoo-Nosier said, “Do what you can to ensure that this Fate of your Truth remains true tomorrow, and on the days which are yet to come.”

A chill wind blew.

Ah. So they knew of his Worldly Path? For how long?

Had Erick been wrong to try for a Worldly Path vacation?

With a dozen unasked questions weighing on his mind, and too many eyes staring at him, waiting, Erick spoke the only thing that anyone on that platform wanted to hear. “I will.”

- - - -

“Come on, Syllea. I know you’re back.”

“Go away, Bayth” Syllea curled tighter into the comfort of her bed, shoving her face further into her pillows. “Tell them I can’t make it.”

A great weight settled on the bed. A hand touched her shoulder. No one said anything for a long while.

And then Syllea moved her hand onto Bayth’s. The floodgates opened again, and this time Syllea let herself be pulled up by her best friend, into a hug. She cried into Bayth’s shoulder, as Bayth patted her on the back.

After a while, Bayth asked, “You ready to meet the chieftains?”

“… I threatened grandpa. I knew it was the wrong thing to do— But he!” Syllea sniffled, then released Bayth. She stared into the dry eyes of her best friend, and said, “I told him about Erick’s Worldly Path. It was a necessity, because of what the Path is—” She breathed. She said, “You remember. You remember how it was. And grandpa he… I told him to stay away from it all. To minimize interaction.”

Bayth said, “And then your grandfather decided to do the exact opposite of your suggestion.” She got up off of the bed, and extended a hand. “So let’s go yell at him.”

“… Okay.”

Syllea dried her tears, then took Bayth’s hand. With a yank and an undignified yelp, Syllea came right out of her blanket cocoon. A few spells later and she was presentable.

She brushed her hair back with her hands, then said, “Thank you, Bayth, for being there for me.”

“You’ve done the same for me.” Bayth said, “I’m sorry about your brother.”

“I’m not.” Syllea said, “He’s alive. He’s under some Fate-cursed path— Or ‘blessed’, I guess. Though that spell certainly does seem like a curse, to me. Whatever the case, Omaz can repent for a decade or four, and that will be good enough. Better than being dead.”

Bayth’s calm face turned a bit harder. “It would be easier if he were dead. If he shows around Treehome, he might get dead. I heard they caught his trail after Erick sent him away, but he lost his trackers.”

“… It would be easier if he were dead.” Syllea said, “But… I can’t… I can’t, Bayth. I just can’t.”

“You won’t, and that’s different.” Bayth said, “Omaz has used your knowledge and your magics in order to kill citizens of Treehome. He’s given knowledge to the Enemy. He’s a danger to us all. And you ‘won’t’. Not you ‘can’t’. You’ve done the hard shit before, and we both might need to do it again.”

“I… I know… But…” Syllea breathed in. She grimaced, then brushed away another tear.

Bayth changed the topic, saying, “So Erick did by himself what took five teams of five each, last time.”

“Oh gods in green.” Syllea groaned, desiring the warmth and comfort of her bed again. But she resisted that siren’s call, then said, “I owe him big, don’t I?”

Bayth shrugged. “Not really. Best not to get too much more involved with his Path.”

“Well. Yes. That is true, too.” She huffed. “So! I’m thinking I really like the idea of punching grandpa in the face. Yes. Let’s go do that.”

Bayth smiled. “Better not let him see it coming, or else he’ll start talking all about ‘acceptable losses’.”

“… Good idea.”

Twenty minutes later, Syllea greeted her grandfather in the hallway between two offices. And then she punched him in the face. Peron sat up and cupped his jaw, both in surprise, and in pain. His jaw was broken.

Syllea declared to her Chieftain and everyone else within earshot, “When I tell you important shit, grandpa! Don’t do the opposite of what I say!” And then she walked away.

- - - -

In a large room chosen for the occasion, with a number of chairs and a table appropriate to the party’s size, there were a handful of people. All of them knew each other. No one was sitting down, for this was a meeting of friends.

Mephistopheles greeted another with a happy tone, slapping his hand into the other man’s, saying, “So you made it out, ya big fucker?”

Toruke grabbed Mephistopheles’ hand and shook it, saying, “Of course I made it out ya flamboyant fern.”

“Not so flamboyant these days.” Mephistopheles stepped back and put his hands on the lapels of his nice suit, saying, “I’m trying to be respectable.”

“Yes yes. Fine fine. You two can fuck later.” Zaraanka demanded, “What about Edolphis? Did he survive? I’ve been waiting all day for him to show up!”

Toruke broke the news fast. “Probably dead in the crossfire. Sorry, Zaraanka. I heard he was planning on offering himself up to Erick for his Blessing, but if no one has heard of him by now, then he’s dead.”

A pall descended upon the gathering.

“… Damn. A real pity.” Zaraanka said, “I will miss his deep voice. I think that was what finally brought me out of my fugue. Reminded me of my father, I think.”

Deckari said, “He helped me when I was having trouble with the guards. He ran interference. Saved my life twice, I think.”

Mephistopheles said, “And probably organized those guards against you, too.”

Zaraanka slapped Mephistopheles on the shoulder, saying, “He's dead. Be kind.”

“He played every side,” Toruke said. “If he had done what he wanted to do, then our little group would be known. A lot of our people would be known.”

“I understand that.” Zaraanka waved them off, holding back her emotions, as she sniffled, and said, “It’s… It’s fine. I only knew him for what I thought he was. He was a good man to me.” She added, “But… It’s just as well if he did not survive. The Cult has no place like it used to have, here in Candlepoint. Probably for the best that he went to the Darkness and didn’t leave us with a mess to clean up.”

“Exactly,” Mephistopheles said. “We’re already cleaning up, and we don’t need even more complications.”

Deckari asked, “You are?”

Toruke said, “I’m leaving the Cult. Going to try my hand at that [Reincarnation] thing. The commune was a wakeup call.”

“What?” Deckari looked to Toruke. “You are?!”

“You should think about renouncing your vows, too, Deckari. The world has come a long way since you came into Candlepoint with those former ‘friends’ of yours,” Mephistopheles said.

“Melemizargo has been nothing but good to me.” Deckari defended, “He’s a world of better to deal with compared to all the rest of them.”

Zaraanka said, “There’s a purpose to leaving the Cult, though. We’re all out of it. Not a single person in charge in Candlepoint is a part of the Cult anymore. We simply cannot be, for we’re meeting envoys from other nations now, and they all bring truthstones.”

Mephistopheles nodded, saying, “Clinging to the Darkness was a survival tactic that has outgrown its usefulness. That’s what I’m telling people. And it’s true, so that helps.”

Deckari said, “No… I can’t. I… No.” He decided, then said, “I don’t need to be in public office.”

Zaraanka said, “We can’t be seen with you, then.”

“You’re already not.” Deckari said, “That’s why we meet like this.”

“Less meetings than this, after today.” Mephistopheles said, “I’ve greeted a few converts besides yourselves today and told them all the same. Most have listened. You should too.”

Toruke said, “I need to not be a shadeling.”

Zaraanka and Mephistopheles nodded in understanding.

“After all that work you put in for those fruits?” Deckari asked, slightly offended, “After everything Melemizargo has done for us?”

“Yes.” Toruke said, “I’ll always be grateful, and I might still light some candles in some closets, but I’m done with this monsterized life. I don’t think food tastes as good as it used to taste. I’ll miss the easy leveling but I learned enough tricks from the Cult that I can level well the next time.”

“We can actually feed you proper rads, Toruke. Those taste really good. Better than the 5-pointers you got at the commune. You don’t have to turn back to orcol if you don’t want to, and it’s not a guaranteed thing.” Zaraanka said, “Join my Guild. Fight with us out there.” She saw Toruke’s face fall a fraction, and changed her tact, “Or give up your newfound freedom and power. Your choice— Oh! Yeah! I almost forgot. Before you do give up your shadeling life, you have to come by the pools! Both of you. Archmage Flatt set up this Shadow-shifted [Kaleidoscopic Radiance]. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and it’s like a balm for the soul for any shadeling. Every single one of our wanderers is healed!”

Toruke whistled low and small. “Now that is interesting.”

Deckari said, “See! The Darkness takes care of us better than the other gods ever could.”

Mephistopheles said, “You’re gonna have to cut that talk out, Deckari. Even when we’re alone.” He added, “I’ve seen a lot of people join the Shadows before, but you’re just… You just went right for it. Sorry your life was so shitty before.”

“… It wasn’t that bad.” Deckari said, “I just didn’t know that it was that bad until I saw the Dark. This world is messed up. The Script enrages the monsters. The monsters kill the people. The people harm the monsters and each other in the process of the struggle for life. It’s all such a vicious cycle that cannot be undone with the methods we have available to us. The next world will be better, and I plan to be there when those [Gate]s finally open. Shadelings are immortal. Orcols are not. It's simple math, for me.”

Mephistopheles turned serious for a moment, saying, “Those were the words we said to pull you in, but know this: The Shades and the Brightwater and Ar’Kendrithyst and even Melemizargo… They were all insane and dangerous. Beyond dangerous. The Dark is comforting, until it isn’t. Until it prods you to new growth and new depths that you weren’t ready to travel. Hopefully your own prodding will not be nearly as vicious as our own.”

Zaraaka nodded, saying, “You’ve only been in this life for a few months, Deckari. We know what we’re talking about.”

“With all due respect,” Deckari said, “You do not. You are a human and an incani. The Red Woman is not… She is not a good god. You do not know what the alternative is for me.” He looked to Toruke, saying, “And I find it hard to believe that you want to go back to that.”

Mephistopheles hummed small, then almost said something.

Zaraanka frowned. She held herself back from speaking, too.

Toruke said, “I’ll miss being able to control my Rage. But I don’t need that power, either. Power leads to just as many problems as it solves. Whatever worlds Erick feels like germinating, I hope that we can try the Old Ways, and nothing more. No Points, nor Levels, nor Health or Mana.”

Zaraanka said, “I would like a few spells. [Cleanse], [Mend], [Telekinesis].”

“Just give me the ability to grow an Elemental Body to full strength,” Deckari said, “Like they used to be able to. I can get everything I need for myself, from there.”

Toruke said, “[Stoneshape] and [Grow] for me. Housing and food is all I need.”

With a glint in his eyes, Mephistopheles asked, “Do you two want to go see Yggdrasil?”

Deckari laughed, then asked, “Oh my Dark God! Can we?! Really?”

Toruke’s eyes went wide. “Can we?”

Zaraanka smiled, saying, “From afar, yes. But you have to treat him like a real Arbor. His power is locked away, but he will undoubtedly remember everything that happens to him.”

“Eh?” Skeptically, Toruke asked, “They’re more dreamlike in their early years, right? Will he actually remember anything?”

“Come on, Toruke!” Deckari said, “He’s a World Tree! Even if his power is locked away, he will remember everything, no doubt.”

“Dreams leave lasting impressions, and Melemizargo is out there every day. All the more reasons not to do anything but watch from a great distance.” Mephistopheles looked to Deckari again, and asked, “And where’s your book, anyway? You never went anywhere without that thing.”

“It’s still here.” Deckari held a hand up. Shadows swirled in his hand, turning into a tome that was black as night, with a binding crusted over in opals. He flicked his hand again, and the book vanished. “Any chance you can get me into Archmage Flatt’s personal library so I can copy everything?”

Mephistopheles said, “No. Don’t ever ask that again.”

Zaraanka shook her head. “There are some boundaries you should respect, Deckari. Erick’s approval is literally the only thing that is keeping us from falling to the [Grand Fireball]s of the rest of the world.”

“Okay!” Deckari held up his hands in mock surrender, saying, “Heard and understood! But I had to ask, you know.”

“You didn’t have to,” Mephistopheles said.

Toruke frowned, then said, “I want to meet Yggdrasil, and then I want to try for a [Reincarnation].”

Deckari said, “You should get a Greater Elemental Body before you do that, Toruke.” He turned a hand to water, and then the other to stone, saying, “They’re very useful.” He dropped the spells, saying, “Once you give up the [Shadowblend] of your shadeling self, then it’s gonna be a lot more dangerous to get the Elemental Essences you need.”

Mephistopheles said, “He’s right about that.”

Zaraanka said, “We’re working on plans for a Stone Dungeon. A Water Dungeon, too. We’ve already got alchemists trying to make [Polymorph] potions.”

Toruke frowned. “Eating slime cores, eh?”

“It’s the best way.” Zaraanka said, “No wasted materials on making armor.”

“No Shadow Dungeon?” Deckari asked. “I was hoping to complete my [Shadowalk].”

“Shadow slimes spawn around here, sometimes. We get them every day in the Shadow-shifted [Kaleidoscopic Radiance] room.” Zaraanka said, “But we’re not expanding that room. Maybe not ever.”

“Too controversial. We’ve already had people try to [Dispel] it on us, but we put up protections after that first attempt nearly knocked the thing out. It came back, though.” Mephistopheles said, “We got lots of time to talk about all of that, though, if you drop this necessity of being a Cultist out in the open, like you seem to be trying to do.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Deckari said, “I can tone it down. I can hide.”

“Not hiding, Deckari.” Mephistopheles said, “Renouncing.”

Deckari frowned.

Toruke asked, “How did you even get past that Mind Mage? You’ve been in this longer than I have, by a long while.”

Mephistopheles said, “We heard about that, and I’d like to know that answer as well.”

“Mind Mages are usually the deaths of us,” Zaraanka said, “I’m surprised he let so many of us through.”

“He did label every single Cultist. That was no small thing.” Toruke said, “But you’re right. the usual killing didn’t happen.”

Mephistopheles said, “Slip is watching you guys. Be careful. If you’re staying in this, Deckari, I can’t be seen with you ever again. I mean that.”

“Me either,” Zaraanka said.

“Dark Gods, I didn’t know it was that bad. Yet another reason to formally leave the Cult.” Toruke turned to the younger orcol, saying, “Poi should have clocked you, easy.”

Deckari said, “Poi knew. He knew everything. Your guardmaster, Slip, even called me out, saying that he has me in his book. But I’m no killer and I never want to be, despite the needs of the moment back there in that battle… And other times. I think he let me off easy.” He asked, “How’d you get through Treehome’s interviews, Toruke? I knew if I went that way, I was setting myself up for automatic failure.”

Toruke digested that, then said, “I got through the same as anyone who managed to get through. I had the good fortune to never have killed in the name of Melemizargo, and I plan to keep it that way.”

Mephistopheles said, “Then I might have room in my administration for you, Toruke.”

“Good. Thank you. I could use a job.”

Zaraanka said, “I could use some more people to hunt mimics, Deckari, but I can’t be seen with you if you pursue this path.”

“Fair enough. Maybe I’ll take up farming. Or help with those dungeons?” Deckari said, “But let’s go see Yggdrasil, for now. Or, should I go on my own?”

“Probably both of you go on your own.” Mephistopheles said, “Don’t get too close.”

Zaraanka said, “Be seeing you! And welcome back to Candlepoint.”

The room, which was not actually a room at all, dissolved into shadow and nothing, as the people therein departed, each already doing their own thing, in a different part of Candlepoint.

… Most everyone departed.

Melemizargo said, “That’s the one to watch.”

Justine, completely out of her depth but still treading water, said the only thing she could say, “Okay.”

“I have plans for him.”

Koyabez asked, “And what plans are those?”

“The only plans I’ve ever had: To expand the cosmos and to bring life and magic to all, of course.”

“That’s not as assuring as you think it is, old friend. Perhaps you should take a step back for a while. Center yourself around a few good mortals.”

“… Perhaps.” Melemizargo sighed, and the world sighed with him. “Perhaps.”

- - - -

Erick sat back in his chair in his hotel room to watch the light fade across the Forest to the north. Reds became purples, becoming dark blues, full of stars. The moons were out there somewhere, perhaps to the west, but they were out of sight, and not that bright. Though they were getting there. The only real brightness out there came from O’kabil’s pale silver light, and the light of civilization from the silver buildings down below, and from under the green canopies out ahead.

Treehome looked much the same as it had when Erick first arrived. Though the city had suffered a wide-scale attack, the Cult and the opportunists had been caught or killed. Very few actually got away, especially when Koropo asked Erick to help find those who had escaped, and Erick had obliged.

That was only an hour ago. Erick had just finished with that job.

He looked down at his hands. They were clean, but he imagined the blood on them, and that thought would not go away. So he grabbed a blueweed cigarette and lit the thing. It was not enough. So he put together a pot of soul-tea, and that helped calm his nerves more than anything.

Jane stepped next to him.

Erick smiled to see his daughter beside him. He offered her the blunt.

She took it, took a drag, then handed it back, saying, “This is pretty amazing, dad.”

He knew she was talking about something else, but he said, “It’s good blueweed, yeah.” To keep the conversation off of difficult topics, he barreled ahead, saying, “And that dress looks great on you. I think everyone took you girls a bit more seriously with those getups. I should have dressed up, too.”

“Hmm.” She sat down on a nearby chair, saying, “If you want to deflect, we can do that.”

“I’d like to, yes.” Erick said, “For now, at least.”

“… Okay. What do you want for dinner?”

“I want you to decide.”

“Then I’ll do that.” Jane got up, then went to the kitchen to look over menus, adding, “Don’t get too wasted!”

“Sure thing.”

What Erick didn’t say, though, was that even four of those blueweed sticks wouldn’t even take the edge off. Not today. Not right now. He was wired, frazzled, and a whole mess of other emotions that he barely could categorize, let alone understand.

So he let his mind wander while he waited for dinner to show.

He considered the spells he had seen today.

He planned out magic.

He wondered just how much he was going to be blamed for enabling Treehome to solve some of their long-standing problems. If it got bad, he’d talk with Silverite. She’d know what to expect, and he could trust her judgment, for sure.

… Maybe he should talk with her, anyway. She had been the Mayor of Spur for centuries, after all, and those centuries had been filled with powerful people. No doubt there were other archmages with similar problems—

Ah. No. That was probably untrue. Maybe in a small way, Silverite had experience with this, but even she hadn’t seen the destruction of the Clergy in her previous centuries. She had even tried and then failed to kill them all, herself.

Erick wondered if part of Silverite hated him for what he had been able to do, that she could not.

He let his mind wander again.

As he sipped his tea, he saw his soul heal, just a bit. It wasn’t much. He had certainly set back some of his healing, for sure. Maybe by a few days. Maybe longer. Long enough to plan some better spells to combat all that he had seen, and to make some better plans to ensure that he wouldn’t be used like this again...

But… But Erick liked being useful to others. He liked helping. He liked being that guy that solved problems, and maybe monsters and murderers were a bit out of his previous wheelhouse, but he was getting there. Had his desire to help led to some of the day’s deaths and side effects? Yes. Undoubtedly. But… But a lot of good was done, too.

Acceptable losses, perhaps?

Perhaps.

Erick decided he would continue to work with Treehome in the future, but he would definitely have a private conversation with Peron about his desire to throw Erick under the bus about the day’s events. Maybe Syllea would have to be present for that conversation, too. Maybe one more? But who?

Before he knew it, dinner had arrived.

Dinner was good. Great, actually. Much better than any other meal served at the hotel. Beef tips that melted in the mouth, with a red wine sauce made with berries and nuts. Small, savory muffins. Mashed root vegetables that were close to potatoes, but they were not potatoes. They were ‘whiteroot’. Erick smiled upon hearing of that vegetable. Sirocco Zago had spoken of white root back when Erick introduced potatoes. And now he finally got a chance to try them. They were good. A bit like a smoother, maybe glutenous potato. Lots of cheese in the white root, though, so maybe the taste was not genuine white root, but everything was better with cheese.

Kiri spoke of Koropo approaching her while Erick was hunting down escapees. Koropo had seen her Sunny, and asked after her capabilities. She had told him that Sunny was not at the level of Ophiel, but only because Kiri herself was not up there, either. Kiri offered to help clear out monsters, just like Koropo had been edging toward, and her help had been accepted. She would be worked into the system they came up with, when they came up with it. Sunny was ready for some action, for sure.

Erick was glad for that.

Jane spoke about that Kordon guy, the one who had escorted the three girls to the commune. He was apparently a higher ranked guard than others, with ample adventuring experience, and would likely also be joining the effort to clear out the Forest of Moon Reachers and Deathsoul Shrooms. Jane was eager to show him up again when she did the same. He barely understood his [Radiant Ash Body], though she allowed that perhaps she didn’t understand his Elemental Body, either.

“What would make a person want to get Radiant Ash?” Jane said, “I don’t understand that combination at all.”

Kiri said, “Shadow, Fire, and Light. For blending in to the Forest when you want, and for burning it down when you don’t?”

“He was good at that.” Teressa said, “Hid rather well when he wanted, and the incorporeality of Ash lends itself well to defense versus physical attacks. Most monsters are most dangerous due to their physical attacks.”

“Probably cheaper to use than [Prismatic Body], too.” Jane said, “But cheap is not powerful. The monsters could barely hit him, but he also couldn’t hurt them as much as he needed to, either. Now. If he were a [Polymorph]ed lava ooze with [Radiant Ash Body], then that might be something. Not enough adventurers do the [Polymorph] thing.”

“That’s because it’s disgusting, Jane.” Kiri smirked. “You’re an ooze or a spider half the time! Eww!”

Erick chuckled, saying, “I have a hard enough time being a light slime.” He shivered. “I keep thinking that someone will try and splat me for the Experience.”

“It’s not that bad!” Jane flexed her aura and armor appeared, like a ghostly imprint in the manasphere. She said, “And this [Mutable Aegis] means that I’m never without armor, so there’s little chance of anyone mistaking me for a real monster. And if they do, then I can just tell them to lay off. I’m getting better with adding vocal chords to my Familiar Forms.” She dismissed her coalescing aura.

Erick asked, “How is your Class going, anyway? Did you knock out all those quests you were talking about?”

“I have indeed!” Jane smiled. “Fully Classed up! I’m actually hunting for more Familiar Forms…” She looked to struggle with something for half a second, before just plowing ahead, saying, “While you were cleaning up the escapees today with Warchief Koropo Ikabobbi, some people from that District must have found out that I’m a Polymage, and they invited me to Ikabobbi’s ‘Polymorph Emporium’. It’s this exclusive place, and I think they’re trying to get in good with you, but, would you like to go see some monsters? Maybe you can find something interesting that’s not a little light slime? I don’t think they’ll have anything I want, and they’re certainly out of my price range, but they’re supposed to be the largest monster sellers on Glaquin with a lot of monsters with rare abilities. The only larger auction houses are down in Nergal, in Eidolon.”

“I can pay for whatever—”

Jane interrupted, “I don’t want you to pay. I would like to go see the monsters with you, though, if you want to go.”

Kiri offered, “There’s some nice magical history museums in Nosier’s District that would be nice to see, too. If nothing else happens, I think those would be a nice distraction, too.”

Teressa said, “My Auntie wants to cook for us again.”

Erick smiled. Then he looked to Poi, asking, “What’s your offer for cheering me up?”

“The Mind Mages have some therapists ready to go to Candlepoint, and here, if needed.”

Erick laughed. “That’s a good offer, too!” He looked around the table, saying, “But I’m okay, guys. Well. No. I’m not. But I will be. And this is fine. This is the world we live in, and the one we get to make better tomorrow through the actions we take today. This is fine. This is just what power means. I will eventually be okay with this, but… Thank you. All of you. Jane, Kiri, Teressa. Poi. You’re all looking out for me, but I have not done nearly enough looking out for you—”

“That is simply untrue.” Poi said, “And it’s weird that you think that way.”

“If anything, you need to try doing less, dad.” Jane said, “I agree with Poi.”

“Yes.” Kiri said, “Completely agree. Let’s do less, okay?”

Erick looked to Teressa, expecting something.

Teressa surprised him, by saying, “I appreciate the idea of burning down the entire Forest and starting over. I want to help with this however I can. It’d be like a [Cleanse] on a massive scale.”

Erick laughed, then said, “I do love that [Cleanse] spell!”

“Oh!” Jane’s eyes went wide. “Could you shift a [Cleanse] into erasing the Forest?”

Kiri said, “Oh gods no! Don’t try to mess with [Cleanse]. That’s one of the first lessons they teach in Arcanaeum. I think I’ve said this before?”

“I’ve heard it before.” Jane said, “But so what? You can have multiple useful versions of [Cleanse], can’t you?”

Teressa said, “Probably don’t mess with [Cleanse]. It doesn’t happen in Spur a lot, but there's people who try it every so often. Mostly incani who really hate humans, or the other way around. Just last week, some incani from the Wasteland tossed a [Cleanse] over himself and clipped a human in the process. Half the guy vanished, instantly.”

Erick winced, as did Kiri and Jane.

Poi hummed disapproval.

Teressa said, “The human survived, thankfully. The incani was exiled and his blood taken to mark him as a permanent exile. Guy didn’t even act sorry. Said something about the Converter Angel, and how all humans were guilty.” She added, “That bit there almost got him executed instead of exiled.”

Erick hummed.

Kiri brought the conversation back from that cliff, saying, “They told horror stories in the dorms about people trying to work [Cleanse] into something more deadly. Those stories were like campfire monster stories. One day, the students were just practicing magic, and the next day they didn't show. Go to their rooms and what do you find, but a sphere of annihilated space, perfectly cut into the surrounding stone like someone had scooped out that part of the world.” She added, “And everything was perfectly clean.”

Jane giggled. “No way.”

“Yes way!” Kiri said, all serious, “It happens.”

Jane lost her giggle. “Okay. Well. Then never mind the mutated [Cleanse] idea.”

Erick thought about [Cleanse], and wondered about Elemental Destruction. There was something to that, wasn’t there.

Kiri said, “Anyway. Don’t mess with [Cleanse]. Much better to just burn down the trees.”

“Some of the trees just get angry if you try to burn them,” Teressa said, with a hint of dark humor. “And then they start clawing.”

- - - -

A small knock echoed from the door to the hotel room.

Poi was already there at the door well before the knock came, while Jane, Teressa, and Kiri were making themselves scarce in a separate room on the second floor. Erick waited in the center of the main room, down below. A pot of tea steamed on the table between a few chairs, while chocolate chip cookies sat cooling on a tray.

Poi opened the door, and said, “Welcome, Chieftain Yura O’kabil.”

“Hello, Mister Fulisade.”

The elderly orcol on the other side was dressed rather nice, in more or less the same silver robes of before, but with a wrap of white fur around her neck that draped down her front and back. To her side, stood another woman; the orcol-body of the Holy O’kabil, wearing her normal Mist Rabbit fur coat like it was a thin, draping cloud. O’kabil held a large, paper-wrapped package in the air to her side.

“Welcome, Holy O’kabil.” Poi stepped to the side. “You’ve been granted Prismatic permissions, Chieftain. Please come on in.”

Yura smirked as she touched the wall of dense air that delineated the threshold, and her hand went right through. She nodded, said, “Thanks for the invitation,” and stepped inside.

“Hello, Yura!” Erick stood up, saying, “Hello, O’kabil.”

Yura huffed a laugh, saying, “You’re right. He is cheeky.”

“I made some cookies for us.” Erick asked, “Have you tried the chocolate I made, yet?”

O’kabil floated the paper bag at her side as she strode past Poi, keeping in line with Yura, saying, “This is that Mist Rabbit comforter that was ordered.” She placed the bag on an empty chair, breathed in, then breathed out, seeming to relax. She said, “It was rude of them not to be done sooner and in line with my promises, but it is what it is.”

Erick nodded, saying, “I’m sure my daughter will love it. Thank you, O’kabil.” He gestured to the chairs, the tea, and the cookies, saying, “Please. Come. Sit.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Yura took her seat first, saying, “The tea smells lovely.”

O’kabil sat down, saying, “Let us discuss the matter of the day, and then move on to the matters of the morrow. I will begin—”

Yura poured herself some tea before Erick could move fast enough, and then she poured him some.

“—by saying that the Arbors of Treehome are thankful for the quick response, and for the removal of the shadelings from the area—”

Yura brought out a silver flask and poured some potent-smelling alcohol into her cup, before breathing deep, and then taking a deep swallow from the flask. It was only after her slug of alcohol that she sipped the tea, and softly said, “Good tea.”

“—for it will be much easier to deal with those shadelings when they are somewhere else. We are all thankful for the removal of the Cult, and though we did suffer some loss of life and some unfortunate and unknowable betrayals in the process of that event, the loss of life was well below projected numbers.” O’kabil finished with, “Chieftain Peron has already received a broken jaw from Syllea for his role in turning your Worldly Path into such a confrontational event. We are prepared to offer recompense if you should fail in achieving [Gate], including a lifelong commitment to reconstructing that ancient magic through excavation of Gates in the Forest, and otherwise.”

Erick, tense, said, “I was wondering if Peron did that on purpose. So Syllea told him?”

Yura flipped a cigarette out of a small silver box, lit it with a spark of magic, and held it in her hands. Erick smelled blueweed. Yura said, “Syllea told him, and then when he brushed her off because he didn’t understand, she told him what the Worldly Path meant. And thus we come to the day’s events. I was only informed about what he planned while you were out hunting for criminals, yesterday. I hadn’t found out about what the Worldly Path actually meant until after the stars started falling. I finally managed to harangue O’kabil here into spilling some old secrets, after you ended the day’s minor war and sent Omaz off with a brand upon his soul.”

“We Arbors know more than you, which is not a fault, but a simple truth. We deemed the possible outcomes worth the risk. This is why most no one was informed until after the event.” O’kabil said. “It’s not often that Fate rushes across the land with as much of a boon following in its wake.”

Yura spoke with smoke on her breath, saying, “I would be enacting laws against allowing known Worldly Path people into Treehome, but I have been informed that doing so would likely draw more harm than good.” She took another drag of her cigarette. “For one, such a law would inform people of what the Worldly Path meant, and that would just get more and more people attempting to walk it.”

Erick reached over and opened the small box with his own blueweed cigarettes. He lit one, offering it to O’kabil, who took it. Then he lit another for himself. After a moment of everyone sitting there, just smoking, Erick asked, “Do you think it’s going to get worse?”

O’kabil said, “Teleportation magic was blocked in Ar’Kendrithyst, for Shadow’s Feast. You gained the Worldly Path Quest long before that day. Part of the ceremony for joining the Feast is learning how to walk with the magic. They even call it a Journey into Darkness.” O’kabil put into words a thought that Erick had considered but didn’t want to touch, as she said, “You started your Worldly Path well before you came to us, and it started with the destruction of the Dark Clergy. That was a momentous first step. A very large first step. Then, you came here, and destroyed the Cult hiding in our shadows. In both cases you rescued those you could, and damned those who deserved such an outcome. I would wish you good luck going forward, but Fate and Ritual has you in its grasp, and luck will twist you to its ends no matter how much I were to assist, just as sure as the gods do watch over us all. So tread carefully, and make good decisions.”

“Right now, I’m considering getting wasted on booze and drugs.” Partially sarcastic, Erick asked, “Is that a good decision?”

“Nothing wrong with taking a day off after you fundamentally shift the power of a large part of the world.” Yura said, “You could try a month, too. No rush.”

“I tried a Worldly Path that was just a vacation, but then this happened.”

Yura smirked, asking, “Did you, though? Did you, really? You came in here and almost immediately floated the idea of hunting a few monsters to extinction.” She added, “We can blame Peron for shifting your focus toward the Cult, but he’s not wholly to blame. Not with those first steps you took on your Path. Perhaps Peron was ensorcelled by your Path as well. We were all waiting on that stage for you to throw the day’s events at his feet, but it was a good thing you didn’t, for Peron was certainly ready to throw some facts right back in your face.”

Erick frowned, then he took another drag. He breathed out blue smoke, as he said, “I’d prefer less confrontation, but then there’s that Converter Angel waiting for me out there.”

“Don’t let that monster be your final step on your Path.” O’kabil said, “But first, there is the duty to discharge the promises made to us regarding the hunt of the Moon Reachers and Deathsoul Shrooms. Treehome needs a unifying event after the day’s attack, and such a hunt will be that unifying event.”

“And that won’t be yet another bad step?”

“Today’s events were not bad, Erick.” O’kabil said, “Acceptable losses, and a cleansing unlike any other. These were good outcomes.”

Reluctantly, Yura said, “Continuing with the plan to eliminate a few monster species is an acceptable risk considering the possible gains.”

“Very well. When are we going to start that?”

“A few days after the new year.” Yura said, “We need time to get the proper word out, to organize the hunt itself, and to control any problems regarding today’s outcomes. We’re considering anywhere between five to six days from now.”

Erick joked, “You probably had other things going on before I came here, eh?”

Yura said, “Taxes are starting up again, then there is a land distribution problem with a new family joining O’kabil. Some problems in our border with Steel-Branch—”

O’kabil continued, “Farming troubles in the south. Trade breakdown between the local Mage Guild office and the Enchanter’s Block regarding the value of rads and training—”

“A labor dispute between several young scions and some transient tribes. A problem with the Distributed Treehome Merchants, but the DTM is continually full of problems, so that’s not really anything new.” With a hint of anger clouding her voice, Yura said, “Always somehow pressing, too.”

“A case of variant parasite roaches in one of the apartment buildings. That problem seems to move around instead of actually being solved, and it has vexed me most angrily.” O’kabil took a long drag of her blunt, then said, “Then there’s that problem with a variant blueweed known as redweed circulating among the transient tribes to the south, hyping them up to unwarranted violence.”

Yura spoke with smoke on her breath, too, saying, “That redweed problem might clear up on its own. We’re pretty sure that the Cult was the main force behind that issue.” She added, “We do like to blame a lot of the problems of this world on the Cult, and they usually deserve that blame, but sometimes they don’t. We’ll know soon enough if we have to dig deeper into that problem if the redweed doesn’t disappear on its own.”

O’kabil said, “The usual, really.”

Erick nodded. Then he took up the small tray of cookies, and offered them out, saying, “Have you tried chocolate, yet? These are just sugar cookies with chocolate in them, but I have some bars of chocolate to try, too, if you wish.”

Yura smiled softly, as she took a cookie, saying, “Thank you.”

O’kabil also took a cookie, as did Erick. He took a bite of his first, as was probably custom, or something. He wasn’t sure. Yura and O’kabil only took a bite of theirs after Erick went first. And then Yura started in on what Erick suspected was her actual reason for coming here. The older woman pointed right at the record player, with its bright silver horn and felt-topped turntable.

“So what is that?” She hid her excitement by adding, “And these chocolate cookies are rather good.”

O’kabil took another cookie, but her eyes were locked on the shiny record player.

Erick smiled. And then he got up, grabbed the record player, and began explaining.

It wasn’t long after he demonstrated his creation by playing a record of the nonsense song that he, Kiri, and Ophiel had made, that Yura spoke of old bands that she dearly missed that were just not around anymore. She loved the idea of magic that did not decay, or rather, physical objects that did not decay, so she was in love with the record player. She had a few recording crystals that had lost fidelity over the years, and she wondered if Erick could solve that problem in a more permanent fashion. And could she get a record player, too? She could work on making [Control Machine] herself, or hire someone for such a task; those were just foibles in the idea of a record player to be managed.

Erick said, “Let’s try copying some music over to a record. Got a few crystals that you don’t mind wasting toward the attempt?”

With a gleam in her eye, Yura said, “I’m sure I could find something for a suitable experiment.”

O’kabil produced a crystal from a pocket, or more realistically, from plucking the crystal out from some other part of her Domain and then bringing it here.

With a similar gleam in her eyes as Yura’s, O’kabil said, “Here’s one. Let’s try this one.”

When the music started, Jane, and Kiri came out of their room and made themselves even more scarce. Kordon had invited Jane out for a night of drinking, and Kiri piled on to that suggestion as fast as she could. The two of them would be meeting him and one of his friends, Gweko at a bar over at Arbor Ikabobbi. Poi and Teressa stayed behind, of course, but after a small back-and-forth, Erick discovered that Teressa had been invited out, too.

Erick sent Teressa after his daughter, citing the need for multiple layers of protection for a night on the town, but mostly understanding that Teressa wanted to go, but was unwilling to abandon her post. Erick also cited that he was perfectly fine staying home and making music with Yura and O’kabil, and that Teressa need not be there for that.

With the house emptied of distractions, except for Poi, who even turned in early, Erick finished out the experimental copying of old music to new material. For the rest of the evening, he just listened to music with two nice old ladies while smoking blunts and sipping alcohol. The sound from Erick’s record player was almost as good as the crystal recordings, too.

Erick asked after Treehome.

Yura and O’kabil spoke of their homeland.

O’kabil asked after Erick’s homeland.

Erick spoke of Earth in a far off manner. He smiled, as he spoke of a world vastly different from Veird, where magic was probably not existent, or at least not there in any real quantity, and where the record players were much, much better, and made with electricity and wires, instead of solid-state objects.

O’kabil put on a song crystal made by a current band. That band was still recording their songs every so often and selling them to interested parties who could fund such an extravagant expense. The song reminded Erick of monks singing in a Tibetan monastery, with airy voices and ringing metal bowls. It was nice, but O’kabil seemed to find it really nice. The mist around her began to glow silver. The boughs of the tree above began to flicker with faint light. It was a holy experience that Erick was glad to have.

“That’s her favorite music,” Yura whispered.

“They’re good,” O’kabil said, smiling for the first time of the night.

Erick felt buoyed by the music and by the misty manasphere all around him, as though he was lifted up and touched by something greater than himself. It was a good feeling.

And his soul healed just a little bit.

- - - -

The next day, there was much organization done well out of Erick’s sight.

Erick read books and played around with magic, but didn’t do much besides plan and experiment.

He did manage to make a new record player that worked marginally better than his first one, as well as construct a record recorder that worked much, much better than his first iteration of the device. Splitting recording and playing into different devices seemed like an obvious necessity, in retrospect, but like a Shade once said to him: ‘Too bad [Future Sight] isn’t as good as Rear-sight’.

He even managed to work a bit on his own mana sense, working toward [Witness] and [Future Sight], but he had to stop after a while, and move on to something else. So he moved back to his music players.

With a bit of experimentation with his current spells, he managed to make a soundless space in a part of the room, somewhat suspended from the floor, and almost completely cut off from all exterior vibrations. He had discovered that small vibrations in the floor and in the air were accounting for a loss of fidelity on his recordings.

Subsequent recordings in that still space, surrounded by a bubble of [Stillness] and not actually intersected by that [Stillness], produced much better records than before. He tried the same with a [Hermetic Seal], shaped to the space, and found that both spells worked about as good as each other. Further refinement would require more experimentation.

He presented a new record player to O’kabil that evening, along with a few records made from a few ‘throw-away’ song crystals she had left in his care.

An hour later, she immediately gave him some of her ancient, most precious song crystals. She was present for those recordings, for there was no way that she would miss those last songs if the recording turned out bad, or if the crystals broke halfway through.

One of the four crystals did break halfway through. O’kabil sighed, as small silver tears rolled down her face.

Three survived, and O’kabil was overjoyed to have permanent copies of her music.

That night, and for the entire night, the Holy O’kabil glowed with a sad, happy, bright light, her mists filled with joy while a long lost and nearly forgotten song flowed through her boughs. If one listened really, really closely, they might have heard voices hundreds of years old, singing songs that had not been sung for just as long.

The next day, Erick had requests for record players from four different Arbors, including Wyrmrest, Nosier, Home, and Rottundra. The day after that, there were even more requests.

He might not have been making magic, but making music was certainly a nice distraction.

- - - -

The last day of the Triumph of Light came and went.

Two days later, into the first of the year, Erick woke up and checked his Status because he had felt a change. It took him a while to understand what had shifted, or even why he had felt the need to check his Status at all. But there it was, at the top of the blue box. He was 49.

His new birthday was the second of the year.

Two more days later would mark Erick and Jane’s first year on Veird. The Fourth of the First. A few weeks from then would mark the start of Particle Magic joining the Script. Things and events were coming down the line, and Erick needed to be ready for them, but for now, it was still vacation time.

He got up to make breakfast, but Jane was already up and making that breakfast, chopping up potatoes and onions just like Erick had planned and set out the night before.

“Hey, honey!” Erick asked, “How’d your night go?”

Jane winced upon hearing Erick’s voice. She mumbled, “It went fine.” Frowning, but speaking as calmly as she could, she said, “Kordon can’t hunt for shit without overpowering the target—” She paused. She said, “No. That’s unfair. He's pretty damn good. I’m just…” She sighed. She asked, “Did you turn 49 today?”

As Jane began speaking Erick was worried, rather deeply, that Kordon had done something wrong to his daughter, and if so, then he was going to have to bring the wrath of several gods and his own archmage power down on that boy’s head. But this was not about that! This was just about birthdays…

Erick almost smiled, but then he stopped.

This was not about boy troubles. Jane was upset about something much worse.

Was today her birthday, too? Or had that not come yet? Had she had her birthday yesterday, and she wasn’t willing to bring it up until today? Oh. Shit. Had he missed her birthday?

But!

If he had, then Jane’s mother lied to both of them about when Jane was born. They were supposed to be on the same day. That’s how it had always been.

Oh. This could be bad. That could be very bad.

Best to pull that bandaid off fast!

Extremely seriously, Erick said, “The Status says 49.”

Instantly, Jane relaxed. She set down the knife she was using to chop potatoes, and sniffled. She said, “I just got 23.” She laughed, then said, “At least That Woman didn’t lie about that!”

Erick went over and hugged his daughter. “Happy birthday, Jane.”

“Happy birthday, Dad.”

“So what kind of cake do you want?”

“Chocolate.”

- - - -

All over the world, news of the events of Ar’Kendrithyst and then Treehome spread as fast as [Telepathy] could connect people, which was pretty darn fast. The people in power spoke of what would happen next. They asked each other of plans, and counter-plans.

What if Erick comes here next?

Would he even tell us if he did?

Barely anyone understood the significance of the Worldly Path, but even fewer heard that Erick was on that Path.

Look now to a rather contained part of the world, and yet the most not-contained part of Veird at all, where plans are held like prepared guillotines and words are wielded like hidden daggers full of poison. The two presences here understand the Worldly Path, and know enough to know what it means.

Two people who hate each other stand across from each other in a small ocean cave, where the Elites of the Headmaster come to get quests and take [Gate]s to other parts of the Veird’s surface. These two people represent the opposite sides of the two largest forces of good and other-good in the world, though neither side could ever see each other in that way. To each other, the other side is pure evil. On the rare charitable days between them, they merely regard their counterparts as deluded sycophants to their own misguided causes.

This is one of those rare days.

One of the people is a shirtless, muscular man of dark skin, with eyes and a body that glows pale gold. His kilt is made of knives, while a pale-gold sword hovers behind his back, sized to his whole, slightly floating body. His name is Oteril.

The other is an incani woman of red skin, wearing a slick black dress. She glows with a different sort of inner radiance, that is more like a dark, red gloom. Her eyes are fiery rubies, while a disk of red light hovers behind her head and back. Her name is Aviza.

Time passes.

With no one there to quest, and no one having shown up in the last hour, Aviza decided to speak nicely to her counterpart, saying, “Why not take your Converter home?”

Oteril had gone through this discussion before, and so gave his usual response to almost all of Aviza’s ‘requests’ for less war, “As soon as you demons rescind your dark power, and let that power vanish into the Void, we will step back from war on all fronts. We are not the untrustworthy ones, here. You are.”

Aviza said, “We’ll have to kill her, then, you know. It’s just a matter of time.”

“How do you know it’s a ‘her’?”

Another hour passed in silence.

Aviza said, “If you go after Erick, then we will have to respond in kind. With our own archmages.”

“He’s plotting to clear out the entirety of the Forest of Glaquin from multiple monster threats. Why would we want to interrupt that? Why would you want to interrupt that?”

Another hour passed in silence.

Aviza, slightly angry, said, “Step lightly, Angel.”

“Die in the Depths, Demon.”

“Why do you want us to rescind the power we took from the demons? Oh yeah. Because it used to be yours. Emphasis on ‘used to be’. Well Heaven ain’t all yours anymore, Angel, so suck off a dragon and choke on the lava.”

Oteril narrowed his golden eyes, saying, “You don’t have a spark of the Heavens. You have a spark of the Depths. The Abyss. The Unending Far. It twists you into mockeries of yourself and you are deluded enough to call this taint a form of power. You are misguided, as are all the demons that have ever come before you, for there is nothing Good about where you have built your houses.” He said, “In the name of all that is Good and Holy and Right, I pray you to seek reason. Give up your hold on the Fragmented Horror of the Old Demons and become something better than what you were forced to be.”

“Caizoa is about ready to tackle that Converter Angel. Maybe we can capture that old girl and get a backdoor into Celes. Wouldn’t that be nice.”

Oteril flinched as though struck. He went silent.

Aviza smiled, knowing that she had drawn blood.