[Severed Divinity] Chapters 47-50

Chapter 47. Welco the Haunt

Allezin moved with sure steps through the crowd. His pin was missing or at least hidden—an intentional decision. Isen didn’t know how long the tier three could go without exposing the pin before some alarm sounded. Probably not long.

It was also possible Lumina Eldrassin had tampered with his pin, but Isen wasn’t sure if she had the appropriate skillset to do so.

Isen was surprised by how active Eldrassin City was after dark, though he supposed it made sense. Even tier ones needed less sleep than baseline people, so Eldrassin was a city populated by people who literally needed to sleep less than those in a town like Goldbounty.

The glowing stone was enough for tier two cultivators to see by easily, though Isen figured that those of lesser power would rely on the sparsely placed lanterns to find their way.

Allezin ducked into a quiet street jutting up against a wall of rock and headed for a covered staircase that descended into the earth. The staircase was smaller, only wide enough for one person at a time. The second level diverted into a corridor; Isen heard echoing footsteps, but Allezin continued the descent.

Down they went, floor after floor. At the eighth, they encountered a thick, featureless metal door without handle or knob. It swung open automatically at Allezin’s approach.

The door was probably there for a reason—to keep most people out. Isen put even odds on the door opening for any tier three, or specifically for Allezin as a cultivator in service to the kingdom.

After descending another level, they reached a broad room filled with pools of liquid. Clear fluid dripped from the ceiling, some larger strands draping like saliva. It was part cave, part maw, part storage room—if storage rooms could hold a small amphitheater. Metal grates covered the pools, and a network of raised walkways spanned the room.

Allezin followed a path that went straight across. Isen made out a nondescript door like the one they’d entered through. He looked down at the water in puzzlement.

Suddenly, a creature burst through the water, its head bumping against the metal grate. Its open mouth took up half its face, its eyes bulging. The beast’s teeth looked no less frightening than earlier.

It was a trash hound.

Almost as soon as it appeared, it melted back into the water.

“What is this place?” Isen murmured.

Allezin’s ears twitched; he spoke without turning back. “The Janitorium. Eldrassin is a city of immortals, or at least people who’d like to think of themselves that way. Even the tier ones share in the overall spirit. Consequently… cleaning the city is seen as an unfulfilling, dirty task. One to be handled with magic. Hence the desire for frinix­—trash hounds. Is this your first time seeing one?”

“I saw one of them earlier,” Isen said. “Are they monsters?”

“No more so than sleeksteeds,” the tier three said, referring to the slender mounts the elves had ridden while escorting the refugees to Eldrassin. “They’re practically harmless.”

“… Practically?”

The elf chuckled. “There are always accidents, but necessary healing services are fully covered.”

Isen filed away “healing magic” into his growing list of things to look into. “Why is the Janitorium down here, so far beneath the city?”

This time, Allezin turned his head to the side, glancing at Isen from ahead. “Trash hounds aren’t proper monsters, but they’re still magical. The best way to produce them is in pools, away from sources of contamination. Also, this room is on the same level as the sewers, an additional convenience.”

Isen couldn’t help but think of the radiant lake and the monsters that spawned in its depths. What did Allezin mean, contamination?

As they approached the door, the older cultivator stopped and turned. “I probably don’t have to tell you this since you’re naturally quiet, but when we reach our destination, it will be better if you’re silent. Speak only if spoken to.”

“Where is our destination, exactly?” Isen asked. He’d hoped Allezin would explain on the way.

“Just past this door.”

Isen just stared at him.

Allezin sighed. “It’s the Reflectaris. A hall of mirrors, offering glimpses of different parts of the kingdom.”

Isen didn’t understand. “Glimpses?”

“You see what’s on the other side of the mirrors, but that only goes one way. There is one two-way mirror connected to Shor Mei, but it’s usually deactivated.”

“Why meet in the Reflectaris?”

Allezin gave him a thin smile. “It’s one of the only places in the city that only tier threes can access—though those of lower tiers can come if escorted. I also have a hunch that Welco is planning to show us something in the mirrors, something to persuade us, or rather, me.”

With that, Allezin closed the distance to the door. It slid sideways, disappearing into the wall. The room beyond was dark but illuminated by what seemed like a skylight.

The first thing Isen noticed was the ceiling. It just… wasn’t. All he could see was a distant sky, as though staring up into the opening of a cave. Then he noticed what surrounded him. Everywhere he looked he saw elsewhere. Windows into different places, most of them dark. It was night in Eldrassin.

One scene cast in sunset reds and pinks seized his attention. It looked like the piece of space he was in connected to the one before him, like, if he just took a few steps, he’d be in another part of the world. It was so real.

While part of his brain focused on the view from the sunset mirror, overlooking an elven town, the sixth sense made Isen shudder. On edge, he focused on his ambient energy perception, searching for a form in the darkness.

Allezin reacted first. In an instant, his spear was fully extended and jabbing at the space before one of the dark mirrors. Isen looked but couldn’t see anything.

Harsh laughter rang out, coming from seemingly everywhere.

Suddenly, Isen felt it. Something, behind him, dangerous. He spun and fanned his hand into a claw, swiping at the air. But he saw it—a trace of shadow, like ripples on a dark pond. Allezin’s spear stabbed through the air, nearly brushing Isen’s shoulder. His eyes glowed blue and his expression was decidedly unamused.

“The child is better than you, Allezin,” Welco’s voice called out. Suddenly, a man manifested on the opposite side of the room, his form shrouded in black robes, only the lower half of his face visible. He wore a wide, wolfish grin.

Allezin’s brows drew together. “Is now really the time for games?”

“You’re the one who brandished a weapon,” Welco stated, cocking his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d have said you came ready for a fight. But thankfully, I do know better, Wanderer. You’re here for answers.”

Allezin’s expression was sour, but he didn’t respond.

“You’d be better off not knowing Eldrassin’s legacy, Allezin. You’re not strong enough to seize it on your own, and if you plan to enact some pointless plot to avenge the queen… I don’t think you’ll meet a pleasant end. This isn’t a threat, but an explanation.”

But Allezin isn’t alone, Isen thought. He has the queen incarnate.

“I know my own limits, and we both know I’m not cut out for being a hero. Are you going to tell me or not? I held off from calling the relay before, as you asked.”

Welco pulled off his hood, revealing a head of silky blond hair and subtly glowing crimson eyes. A tier three mage, Isen thought. Since Lumina only partly counted, this was the very first he’d ever met.

[ Welco Femera, aka Welco the Haunt. Note: art is always for fun, you can envision the characters however you wish. ]

“You’re going to have to give a little more than that,” Welco said. “Besides, the deal was to come to Eldrassin so we could have a proper discussion. What I can tell you is that Dray is extremely interested in Eldrassin’s legacy, but it’s not the only power circling.”

“Is Shor Mei aware of the situation?” Allezin asked.

Welco arched an eyebrow. “They have a vague awareness of it, but they’ve been sluggish to act. Politics ties even the most enthusiastic hands.”

“Who aside from Dray is involved?”

“Word has gotten to experts from the south, below Mount Barrier. More significantly, the Aran Empire is interested—I hear that Devon Aran himself is headed to the Elven Lands.”

Allezin’s expression faltered. “Aran is coming east?” He shook his head. “So that’s why you’re conspiring with Dray. Help the Anarchate claim the prize, and then the Aran Empire will be their problem. Doesn’t make you less of a traitor if Shor Mei learns of your actions.”

“Shor Mei doesn’t understand what’s at stake.”

“What is at stake?”

Welco narrowed his eyes. “I’ll only tell you if I have some kind of assurance you won’t collaborate with Shor Mei.”

“I’ll swear an oath on that,” Allezin stated unhesitatingly.

Isen saw a slight quirk of Welco’s otherwise impervious smile. Allezin had promised too readily. The mage was suspicious.

“An oath,” Welco repeated, though he let the words linger. His eyes panned to Isen. “And the boy. I’ll keep him in my care until I deem it fit to release him. I won’t be unreasonable.”

“You think holding him will stop me more than an oath?”

“You may not be a hero, Allezin, but deaths weigh on your conscience. Besides—I’m curious about your little cultivator. Look at him, he’s just staring at us, calm as can be, his eyes drinking in everything. Boy, can you even understand us?”

Isen glanced at Allezin, then back to Welco. Isen had been so focused on the encounter, he hadn’t even noticed what language the elves had been speaking. He wondered if Welco was really asking if he could understand elvish, or if he was asking a broader question—whether Isen grasped the political intricacies at hand.

For now, he assumed the former. He’d forgotten to wrap his ears with Talis’s headscarf after returning from his excursion.

“I understand,” Isen said softly.

Welco nodded. “The terms stand. An oath, and an agreement regarding the boy. Then I’ll tell you what you desire—the legacy Lumina Eldrassin left us, and the circumstances behind her death.”

Allezin shook his head. “How do you even know the truth?”

Welco sighed. “Allezin, you know I can’t tell you that until we have an agreement. If you’re wavering, I’ll repeat my original advisement—to leave this mess and wait for the storm to blow over. Come find me in fifty years and I’ll be an open book—you can have closure then.”

With Lumina secretly alive, or the next best thing, Isen knew Allezin didn’t have a choice.

“I agree, if Isen doesn’t object,” Allezin said.

Welco’s smile was placid. “And does Isen object?”

Isen considered confirming that he wouldn’t just be placed in a cage as a hostage, but such questions were ultimately pointless. Welco seemed weird and a bit ominous, but what Isen felt from him was clear, and it almost took his breath away. It had been building during the conversation, but only hit him in full force now that a decision lay before him.

Refusing wouldn’t lead to danger or anything bad, but if he agreed, a path filled with both danger and tantalizing opportunity lay before him.

He could step back, or step forward.

This wasn’t about rescuing Ros or learning more about Legacy’s burden. For those goals, all he needed was Lumina Eldrassin, and he suspected that Allezin wouldn’t tell Lumina about this excursion. Disappointing Allezin, or at worst making an enemy of him, would be unfortunate, but not insurmountable.

It was possible that as Welco’s hostage, he’d be unable to return to Lumina in the near term, but that was fine. He still had something she desired: a connection to the Compass of Legacy and the mystery behind her resurrection. The only concern was that she’d permanently die before getting the opportunity to search for his supposed master, Ros.

In the end, her fate was beyond him, even if on a personal level, he hoped she found a way to survive—and separate herself from her host.

Isen had dreamed of a world beyond Goldbounty’s rugged horizons for his entire life. Since falling into the Twining’s tear, it hadn’t been anything close to what he’d expected, but he didn’t regret anything. Not the pain, the terror, the thrills, the comradery. Not even the horrible scenes of slaughtered civilians in Shevenar and the other elven cities.

Isen was a cultivator, and he wanted to see it all. He wanted adventure. He wanted to live without regrets.

Two choices stretched out before him, but there was only one answer he could give.

Chapter 48. Lumina’s Legacy

Allezin hated being so in the dark. He hadn’t just been the protector of Shevenar—he’d been disconnected on the border, an afterthought.

Welco Femera was like a cat toying with him, wearing that obnoxious, fake smile. He loved having the answers, salivated at Allezin’s perceived weakness.

Allezin had only met Welco once, when Allezin had been brought back into the Eldrassin fold and appointed to Shevenar. There had been a celebration that most of the other tier threes had attended. Welco hadn’t left much of an impression. He’d been one of the weakest of the tier threes there, if not the weakest.

They’d never fought before, and Allezin doubted the Femera patriarch had an up-to-date understanding of his capabilities. The shadow mage might be right that Allezin lacked the strength to seize Eldrassin’s legacy, whatever it was, but… he might also be wrong.

Allezin would only be able to judge that for himself.

He knew the same statement also applied to Welco—if the mage had really mastered a deviant version of Shadow Clones, he would be a much more serious threat. Allezin had hoped that Welco would show off his spell when they met in person, but there wasn’t a single clone present.

It was the right choice, on Welco’s part. Those who were weakest often compensated in other areas. Cunning, craftiness, and caution were qualities the shadow mage probably had in spades.

Coming into the conversation, he knew Welco would only agree to tell him the truth about Lumina if he took an oath, the kind that actually mattered. He’d been pleased that Welco had only asked him to agree not to help Shor Mei—perhaps that had shone too clearly, given Welco’s response.

Allezin truly hadn’t expected Welco to ask for Isen as a hostage, if that was even the appropriate term. Honestly, Allezin didn’t fully understand why he’d brought Isen in the first place.

Maybe his subconscious had realized that Welco’s passing interest in Isen could be leveraged in some way, but Allezin didn’t think that was it. Isen was just interesting. Clear-headed, calculating, and most importantly, as neutral of an observer as Allezin could hope to find. Isen had climbed out of what Allezin suspected was a ruin, somehow crossing half the world in the process if he’d really come from the western continent.

Most notably, he saw what even Allezin couldn’t. Allezin didn’t think that Isen was a seeker, but clearly the teen had something else going on.

And now, Welco wanted him. It wouldn’t be a bad outcome for Isen. Unlike Allezin, Welco actually had a compound in the capital. Allezin didn’t know much about clan Femera specifically, but tier threes usually surrounded themselves with capable individuals to nurture and retain talent. The hope was always to raise up a loyal tier three, drastically increasing the power of the clan.

Since Welco was a mage, his clan was likely focused more on developing mages, but he’d be remiss not to have a part focused on cultivation.

With Welco, Isen would be safer, and potentially receive instruction that Allezin didn’t have the time to give him. After all, Isen was still a minor, and Welco was required by law to provide him an education until he reached adulthood.

The choice was obvious to Allezin—Isen should say yes. But he reined in the compulsion to answer on Isen’s behalf. The teen had earned the right to answer for himself. And if Isen said no? Allezin could negotiate other terms. Welco clearly wanted to tell Allezin the truth, even if he claimed otherwise.

“I agree, if Isen doesn’t object,” Allezin said. He looked for any sign of a reaction in Welco’s expression and found none.

“And does Isen object?”

Both men looked at Isen. The tier two stared back unflinchingly, his mien thoughtful. He seemed to actually be considering. It was yet another example of what made Isen so peculiar—most tier twos wouldn’t have the spine to say anything less than the obviously expected answer, and would just answer immediately.

“I agree,” Isen said at last.

Allezin felt a surge of relief.

“... But I’ll need to return to the hotel to retrieve my belongings—and say goodbye.”

Welco clasped his hands. “I’ll send someone to fetch you tomorrow. Don’t try to escape before then—it will reflect badly on you and Allezin.” He turned his gaze on the black-metal cultivator. “With that settled, we can move forward.” He reached into his mage’s robes, withdrawing what looked like a small clay urn, no bigger than a ring box. “These are ashes of udravi.”

Allezin nodded. A species of tier three lizard monster from the south with an affinity for fire. They were rare, but anyone who spent more than a handful of years in the Southern Ruins would encounter one eventually. Living to recount the experience was another feat altogether.

A single intact udravi corpse could sell for a fortune. The parts of the monster that had limited other usefulness were cremated since their ashes had magical properties. Udravi ashes were expensive, but not too expensive, and they transferred easily to skin.

Welco dipped his fingers into the urn and held them up to Allezin’s forehead. Then, he repeated the agreement. Allezin confirmed his oath, and Welco’s thin fingers left a trail down his face, five dark lines stretching from hairline to jawline.

Allezin did the same to Welco, his fingers turning black.

Then, Allezin clasped Welco’s hand, their ashy fingers intertwining.

Allezin cycled and energy pooled at his fingers, forming a circuit throughout his body. His core thrummed with power. His already glowing eyes flared. Allezin couldn’t sense what Welco was doing, but the elf’s power made itself manifest in the intensifying shadows around them, writhing and tightening around the shadow mage. The energy formed a slender gauntlet over the mage’s hand.

There was a moment of calm as they braced for the will of heaven.

Then, thunder. It wasn’t like tribulation lightning, which arced down from the sky and smote transgressors with unrelenting fury. Allezin could never forget tribulation lightning’s scouring touch.

This was a colder sort of heavenly intervention, a single zap that consumed the ashes on their hands and jumped to their faces, then, invisible, into their minds, where the shared agreement was fresh.

[ Allezin the Wanderer ]

If they both shared the same understanding of the terms, then a pact would form. Were it broken, tribulation would come for the offender. In this case, the only person who could break the agreement was Allezin, since taking Isen as a hostage was a secondary agreement. Welco would be an idiot to risk heavenly tribulation over the safety of a fragile tier two, so Allezin hadn’t bothered to suggest it.

The roar of the thunderclap faded as suddenly as it came. Allezin and Welco both flinched back, hands snapping away in distaste as though the other were cursed.

There hadn’t been any recoil, so the oath had succeeded.

“Now that that’s settled, we can begin,” Welco said.

***

Isen hadn’t known what to expect of the two men’s oath ritual, but it certainly hadn’t been lightning. Isen struggled to control his breathing. Suddenly, he was transported back to the Twining on that fateful day. The lightning was all around him, searing and intense, relentless as it struck everywhere, tearing reality apart.

What the tier threes had summoned wasn’t just a light show. He could smell the faint ozone tang, and the lightning had licked every speck of soot from the men’s fingers and faces.

For several seconds, Isen froze, his ears fuzzy, unable to process what the others were saying. What made everything worse was the feeling of being out of control, unable to perceive the world properly and act. Isen was stuck in a negative feedback loop and felt increasingly paralyzed.

So, he cycled. In through his nose, circling in his stomach. He focused on that, letting the world fall away. He let go of his frustration over missing the first minute of Welco’s explanation.

Soon, the world fell back into focus. Welco was gesticulating at the mirrors, forming scenes wrought from shadow. “... And that’s when I knew something was amiss, even as far back as two weeks before Eldrassin’s death. I didn’t need to use the mirrors to see, but the idea is the same. Everywhere the mirrors touched, I saw traces of nightsparrows.”

Allezin narrowed his eyes. “You really think spies from Dray learned such an important secret by chance? It sounds like they were mostly present in small towns.”

Welco’s smile widened. “Well, we know Shor Mei was in the dark, and the Aran Empire has never had a foothold on this continent. Dray makes the most sense... Unless you’re implying something else.”

“It could have been one of us—one of you,” Allezin said quietly. “Lumina Eldrassin has never been careless. My personal opinion is that she must have been betrayed.”

That seemed most likely to Isen as well, given everything he’d heard. 

Welco held up a finger. “I never said there wasn’t betrayal. My claim is that the traitor simply wasn’t the first to discover what would become Eldrassin’s legacy.”

At this, Allezin nodded slowly. “If it was as obvious as you claim, then Lumina would have noticed the nightsparrow incursion. Why didn’t she respond? I wasn’t told anything.”

“She didn’t notice, and that’s because it was beneath her.” Welco’s grin finally fell, curving into a grimace. “You weren’t here, in the capital, but the past few months she had been almost completely absent, stuck in self-seclusion. She wouldn’t see any tier threes—which is why I argue that the betrayal came later, after we began to suspect something more serious was amiss.”

Allezin just stared at Welco. “That does sound like her. Is it finally time for you to explain what her legacy is?”

Isen’s gaze flitted between the two elves.

Welco sighed, and his smile returned. “Fine. Last chance to walk away.”

Allezin frowned. “Don’t test me, Welco. We have an agreement.”

“So we do.” He glanced at Isen. “You’ll be with me, so I’m not particularly concerned... but it goes without saying that you should keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.” The warning was eerie when paired with his unwavering smile.

A shadow spawned before Welco before splitting into two blobs, each forming into a humanoid body, though one that had been vertically bisected, like an anatomy diagram from one of Lady Jin’s advanced books.

The left body had a startlingly vivid shadowy core, a whirling mass of flickering light that captured the skylight’s luminance. While the shadows were hard to make out in the dim chamber, Isen could see much more clearly using his perception of ambient energy. Now, he saw how the energy flowed from the core throughout the body.

It was without doubt the body of a cultivator.

On the right, the body lacked a core. Instead, the skeleton itself—little more than a near-invisible afterthought in the first shadow-dummy—glowed subtly, with energy wafting all around the body, but particularly in the head, focusing on the skull, at the center of the forehead.

It was... a mage? Isen watched, stupefied. The power of mages had always seemed so... inexplicable. You were born a mage, or you weren’t. Welco’s display was like a peek behind the curtain, demystifying the other path to power.

“A cultivator, and a mage,” Welco said, confirming Isen’s interpretation. “Separate paths until they blur together at the legendary fifth tier, or so it’s supposed to go. Lumina has been trying to advance since Eldrassin’s founding, and her legacy is a result of those efforts—her attempt to blur the lines, so to speak, and advance.”

Blurring the metaphorical lines between cultivator and mage... that sounded incredible.

“What is the legacy, an object?” Allezin wondered.

“In a sense. It’s really more of a promise.”

“Speak plainly, Welco.”

The mage enunciated every word, speaking slowly. “I’ve heard that her legacy all but guarantees reaching the fifth tier.”

A kindling spark overstepped and was devoured by a blistering inferno, so claimed the words of Legacy. Isen knew almost nothing of advancement compared to the elven tier threes, but even he knew that developing a surefire way to reach the fifth tier was heaven-defying. Isen didn’t even know what the fifth tier was! Just that it was another step of divinity.

Lumina Eldrassin... just what did you do?

Chapter 49. Doomed Us All

Allezin seemed just as shocked as Isen. Welco took the silence as license to elaborate. “To develop what we suspect to be her true legacy, Eldrassin created many prototypes. Two of them, found in her personal quarters, have already been stolen by Dray, though there is evidence that many more prototypes exist in her secluded workshop, though that’s sealed away even after her death, impenetrable to anyone below the fourth tier.”

“Which is why Devon Aran is coming.”

“And why Dray has floundered, since their tier four finds it... difficult to leave the Bitter North. It is still unknown whether Eldrassin succeeded in finishing her legacy before assassination, though it’s doubtful since she died. I do not know who killed her.”

“What can these prototypes do?” Allezin asked.

“When given to a cultivator at an early stage, the prototypes supposedly significantly increase the chances of reaching the fifth tier, and only the fifth. Which sounds ludicrous, since there’s obviously no way to confirm or deny the veracity of such claims, but given all the fuss Dray is making, and Devon Aran’s interest... I assume it’s true.”

“Specifically cultivators? Not mages?”

“Yes. It’s why those were only prototypes. You can also see why, perhaps, some might have desired her assassination before she finished her efforts.”

“Going back to your previous point,” Allezin pivoted, “the prototype will work for a current tier four cultivator?”

“The prototypes that Dray stole won’t, in fact, though the hope is that Lumina’s later prototypes—the ones nobody has access to—will work on tier fours, since that would have been the late queen’s ultimate focus.”

“Who do they work on?”

“Anyone below tier three. Can you see the problem?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Each prototype can only go to one cultivator, and for the prototype to bear fruit, the cultivator must, on their own strength, reach not just the third tier, but also the fourth.”

Welco held his hands out to the sides. “If you ask me, it’s all useless! A horrible crapshoot! Everyone knows a cultivator can be shunted into the third tier by force, but the fourth has ever been near-insurmountable. The greatest talents fail to reach it, to the point where getting to the fourth tier feels more like random chance. We both know it, feel it every day! The weight of inadequacy!”

He paused to regain his breath. “It’s no wonder Eldrassin cast the prototypes off as useless, because they effectively are, unless she was able to make one for every half elf cultivator in her realm, which—given the materials used to construct the prototypes—is unthinkable. It’s also why I don’t mind a temporary alliance with Dray. They lack the resources, infrastructure, and, speaking frankly, intellect to reverse engineer the prototypes and mass produce them.”

Allezin’s brow furrowed. “But the Aran Empire...”

Welco laughed. “Yes, the Human Empire is the threat I fear most.”

Isen had never heard of the Aran Empire before today. He hadn’t even known there was a great human power beyond the local kingdoms. He must have let his expression slip, for Welco’s eyes bored into him.

“Even if all Devon Aran accomplishes is seizing Dray’s pilfered prototypes, the humans might actually be able to do something with them.”

Allezin’s grip on his spear tightened. “If a tier four fight breaks out over Lumina’s legacy, within Eldrassin City...”

“It will be a calamity. Which is why I told you to get out, and leave this fight for the people who actually have something to protect. This place isn’t your home.”

“We should be evacuating everyone,” Allezin muttered, though his gaze was distant, and his words lacked conviction.

“Dray will never let an elven mass exodus leave,” Welco argued. “Even if it was in the Anarchate’s best interest, their enmity with Eldrassin is deep, and they are too motivated by blood. The only way mass evacuation ends is in disaster.”

Isen’s stomach sank the more he heard. Were Lumina Eldrassin truly alive and at the height of her power as a tier four, she could protect her city and her legacy. As she was now...

“Whoever killed her has doomed us all,” Allezin uttered softly, though his eyes held a feverish anger.

“You’re not wrong, but she’s also at fault for playing with fire, and for letting herself die.”

Allezin looked like he wanted to stab Welco through with his spear, but he held back. “I can’t believe you’re saying it’s her fault.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree.” Welco clapped his hands together. “That’s all I have to say. Agreement, fulfilled. Do you have any final remarks?”

“If the city falls, are you going to fight, or leave?”

“Leave. I’ll save my clan and as many as I can.” He pulled his hood back over his head. “I’ll pray it doesn’t come to that.”

Allezin nodded sharply. “This is a mess. Good luck.” He collapsed his spear, his movements rigid. He walked to the entrance, his steps slow, labored. “Isen. We’re going.”

Isen snapped out of his stupor and hurried in pursuit. He could just barely see Welco’s eyes underneath the cowl. The red orbs followed them until the door slid shut.

***

They didn’t speak the entire way back. Isen didn’t even know what there was to say.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t interested in Lumina’s legacy. Since she was technically alive, maybe she could even make one of those prototypes for him. That said, the fifth tier sounded impossibly far off. If that’s all the legacy could help him with, it wasn’t that enticing.

Isen wondered if Allezin was having similar thoughts. As Welco had said, the assumption was that Lumina had made later prototypes that worked on those who had advanced further. From the way the warrior held himself, however, Isen didn’t think seizing the legacy was on his mind. He seemed extraordinarily pissed off and dejected.

They climbed the stairs, then took the passageway on the second floor, rather than continuing to the surface. Allezin’s steps were quick, and Isen struggled to keep up. When they came to a similar crossroads—a choice to continue forward, or proceed up or down—Allezin ascended the stairs three steps at a time.

They emerged on a side street that was, at least to Isen, indistinguishable from the one they’d passed through earlier. Allezin seemed to have some idea of where they were, though that might just have been outrage looking like confidence.

After thirty minutes of silent angry fast-walking, Isen began to suspect that Allezin wasn’t going anywhere. He really was just fuming.

Isen nearly rammed into Allezin when the cultivator stopped abruptly and turned toward a small, moonlit park. He sat down on one of two benches, his eyes glowing. No one was around.

Isen sat on the other bench, giving the warrior space. If Allezin was looking for signs of Welco, Isen didn’t think he’d find any. Isen hadn’t seen any traces of suspicious shadows their entire walk, and he’d been paying attention, latching onto the distraction.

“Do you regret your decision?” Allezin suddenly asked. “Choosing to go with him?”

Isen snorted softly. “No.”

Silence. Then, “I just don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me. She’s been so close-lipped. Is she simply trying to keep me uninvolved?”

Isen didn’t have any answers or unique insights. Allezin had theoretically known Lumina for millennia, even if it felt like most of their time together had been spent long, long ago.

“Maybe she’s just trying to end all of this before it spirals further,” Allezin continued. “Maybe she plans to destroy it, and if there is nothing to fight over, maybe the city will be spared.” Allezin sighed.

Isen wondered if destruction would really be her aim. What if, instead... she tried to hide her legacy? There was one place that stuck out in his mind.

The depths.

“Allezin,” Isen said, “what is the tier four in Dray? Is it a monster?”

“Yes. In the Anarchate, its title is Divine Beast.”

“Why can’t it easily come to the Elven Lands?”

Allezin took a moment to respond. “I have never seen the Divine Beast. I know it is extremely powerful within its domain, the frigid, ice-covered peaks of the Bitter North. I have heard that its power wanes considerably outside a cold environment, though there is no proof of this—it has never left the north within my lifetime. I don’t even know what kind of monster it is. If it left the Anarchate and came to Eldrassin... It would be an unprecedented calamity.”

“You think it might?”

“That depends on if it thinks coming here will allow it to advance to the fifth tier.”

Isen considered asking about Devon Aran and the human empire in the west, but held off, sensing the mood. While Allezin sulked, Isen cultivated and calmed his mind. He knew death was coming from above and below, sweeping toward the city, the kind of death that tall walls and guards couldn’t keep out.

And yet, it felt distant from him. This wasn’t his city, and he just couldn’t fathom the kind of implied destruction coming for them, so much worse than what he’d feared had happened to Goldbounty after the Twining’s sundering and on a far greater scale than what had befallen Shevenar and the other elven towns.

He just felt... numb.

He missed Ros.

A nudge broke his concentration. Allezin stood over him, hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go back.” His voice was drained, feeble, and lacked its previous anger.

And so, they returned.

Chapter 50. One Month

Allezin’s last act of the night was bringing Isen to see Talis and Druinala, who were staying in adjacent rooms in a different wing of the hotel.

“Be ready early,” the tier three said.

“I will,” Isen promised. “Good luck, Allezin. Maybe everything looks worse than it is, this time.”

Allezin’s eyes widened. He averted his gaze and shook his head, barking a laugh. “For all our sakes, I hope so.” He turned and disappeared down the hall.

Isen knocked on Talis’s door first. The half elf smiled at his appearance and hailed Druinala. The trio made themselves comfortable in the half elf’s room.

Isen explained the broad strokes of what had happened that evening, including how Allezin had arranged for him to be temporarily taken care of by Welco the Haunt. Given the two’s involvement in Lumina Eldrassin’s return, Isen figured they’d earned the right to know, and he trusted them to keep the knowledge to themselves. They knew what was at stake, and more fundamentally, Isen trusted their integrity and common sense. They couldn’t carelessly release the information to “inform the people” of the danger; they weren’t naïve. While they tried to save people where they could, they didn’t have delusions of heroic grandeur.

“We should probably leave,” Talis said.

Druinala massaged her eyes, a very un-elf-like gesture. “If possible, we should take wyverns to Shor Mei, though I’d guess the prices have jumped up since the queen’s death.”

“If it’s just the two of us, we should make the journey west safely, unless we have the misfortune to run into a tier three,” Talis said. “Isen, are you really unable to leave?”

Isen shook his head. “I can’t. Welco already said that he would leave the city if things became desperate, and that he’d take his clan with him.” He sighed. “If it seems like staying with him will get me killed, I’ll do everything in my power to escape.”

“If you’re sure,” Talis replied.

“How much does a wyvern ride to Shor Mei normally cost?” Isen asked.

Talis and Druinala shared a look. “Two gold per person.”

And it might be even more now. Isen did some rough math in his head. Talis and Druinala had mentioned that they made twenty silvers a month guarding the merchant caravan. Since one-hundred silvers made a gold piece, that meant a single wyvern ride was almost an entire year’s pay.

He didn’t know how much money the two guards kept on themselves, but he doubted it was anywhere near that much.

A resolution clicked in his mind. If the two betrayed him, so be it, but he really did trust them. If they were greedy, they could have already stolen everything he had and left him for dead.

“Remember the tier three monster materials I have?”

Talis and Druinala both nodded.

“I want you to sell them for me. Sell them all. I don’t think I’ll have the chance after going with Welco.” He paused. “If you don’t have enough of your own money to purchase wyvern flights, use the gold from the sales.”

Talis’s face contorted into a grimace, while Druinala’s appeared contemplative. She was first to speak. “We will not take charity. This will be a debt.”

Isen didn’t care as long as they used the money. If everything went according to plan and he returned to the depths, he’d be able to collect more valuable monster materials, anyway. Besides… if he didn’t survive, he’d rather they have his valuables than scavengers.

“Call it what you want, but don’t forget that the debt goes both ways. You have both helped me, too. If I reach Shor Mei, how should I find you?”

“We’re both registered with the Shor Mei Trader’s Guild,” Talis explained. He looked to Druinala, who nodded. “Go there and ask for Talis Serengen and Druinala Fordrassin.”

“I will.”

Isen led the two to his room and handed off his white fur pack. They all stood awkwardly outside his door. Then, Talis pulled the others into an embrace.

Isen’s heart fluttered. When the hug ended, they exchanged one last round of well-wishes before parting.

Isen knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, so he gathered up his armor, money, and books into the bag from the library, equipped the Shard of Erasmus, and fastened Druinala’s sword to his belt. He placed his bow and quiver next to the door, so he wouldn’t forget them on the way out. It would be much less awkward to equip them without the large furry bag on his back.

He cycled until the sun shone through the window.

Before leaving, he used the bathroom one last time, washing his face with water and swishing out his mouth. He carefully tied Talis’s scarf around his head, obscuring the tips of his ears, then grabbed the bow and quiver.

Just as he reached for the door, a familiar voice sounded in his head.

“Isen, I heard from Allezin that you are going to Welco the Haunt. He has as close a tie to Dray as any, so we will count on you to listen for any information Welco lets slip, even nonverbal cues. The city’s fate may depend on it.”

Isen reeled from Lumina’s words. He had wondered if the queen would reach out to him before he left. He hadn’t been sure how much Allezin would share with her; it seemed like he’d told her most, if not everything. “I thought Welco would just ignore me,” Isen said. Maybe the elven mage would care about Isen if he knew about the teen’s sixth sense, but he only knew that Isen was a tier two with superior vision.

“Allezin said you caught Welco’s interest—he may not pay you immediate attention, but he will inquire about your progress. Do whatever you can to impress him.”

“I’m a tier two cultivator with an... unconventional education,” Isen replied. “Do you really think it’s possible?”

“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate, but her words offered no room for argument.

“Why do you think he would let information slip around me, an outsider?”

“He might not. However, I do not think that he has fully confided in his clan about the looming disaster. He has always been solitary and decisive in his actions, often to his detriment. That’s why if you find yourself in his presence, he may…” She hesitated. “Vent to you, since you already know the general situation.”

He resisted the urge to ask what he had to gain by following her instructions. She had already outright said that by helping her, he’d be helping to “save the city,” but that wasn’t explicit enough for him. He didn’t know what Lumina’s plans were at this point, and whether they were remotely possible. Moreover, while Isen liked the idea of saving Eldrassin from destruction, he was jaded from the previous week. How much would he really be able to help? Was this really worth his time and effort?

“How will we communicate?” he finally asked, letting his frustrations go.

“Like we are now.”

The mental communication didn’t work unless they were close—or so Isen had been led to believe. In the end, that was a Lumina Eldrassin problem.

“Alright. Is there anything else?” He wanted to ask so many questions, but the sixth sense gave him an uneasy feeling.

“It gladdens me that you do not pry for details or ask for compensation,” she said. Isen nearly laughed. “I have seen from our time together that you value goodness as its own reward. But it will not be the only reward, if all goes to plan.”

“How long do I have before…?” He didn’t even know what. Before Lumina executed whatever plan she had? Before the tier fours arrived?

“The latest we will act is one month from now. Prepare yourself.”

That was honestly longer than he’d expected. “Will I have any notice beforehand?”

“Possibly. I cannot guarantee more than a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Isen said, unsure how to feel. “Good luck.”

He waited a few seconds, but no response came. He slumped back onto the bed for a few minutes, his mind racing again. The position was uncomfortable with the bow and quiver on his back, so he forced himself up.

He suddenly felt so very, very tired. With a sigh, he left his room and headed for the hotel lobby.

To his surprise, even though it was the crack of dawn, an older gentleman was waiting for him. The man wasn’t actually old, but his hair was streaked with gray, his eyes creased with fine lines. He looked around fifty. Isen guessed that he was probably much older. He had a stern expression, like his face was frozen in a permanent scowl. The pin on his chest marked him as a tier two, though there was another pin next to it, a black circle with white, foxlike eyes.

The half elf didn’t smile when Isen appeared, merely tipping his head in acknowledgment. He didn’t even ask to confirm Isen’s identity as he walked over. “I am Jorin of clan Femera. Can I help you carry anything?”

Isen hadn’t been expecting that as the first thing out of the man’s mouth. He had always considered it the role of children to carry the belongings of adults, not the other way around. Some of the kids in Goldbounty had subsisted off helping merchants unload goods and following travelers around while holding their bags.

Isen held up the bulging canvas bag.

“Is that all?”

Isen nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Outside the hotel, a single sleeksteed was tied to a support column. Isen just stared at it. The mystic horse had a deep blue mane and arresting orange eyes set into its streamlined face. It wore a double saddle, one with two seats spanning the beast’s shoulders.

“It can carry the two of us,” Jorin explained. “Do you need help mounting?”

Isen had never ridden a horse before, but he figured it couldn’t be too difficult. Getting up wasn’t hard—he just had to jump and land in the saddle.

“Guess not,” Jorin said, hoisting himself onto the horse’s back in a fluid motion. He reached around Isen for the reins, and Isen noticed they were unlike any he’d seen on normal horses. They were thin and changed length when pulled on, connecting to a simple bridle that didn’t have a bit in the sleeksteed’s mouth. It strapped subtly over its head, the material so thin it looked transparent.

Jorin flicked the reins and the steed set off.