Although Corvid wasn’t located on the beach, the ocean was only a short flight away. As Ian approached, he spotted a shipyard sprawling across the shore, its largest lifeform a prowling house cat.

To calm his nerves, Ian began to process the Death energy he’d amassed at the two battlefields, spooling and condensing it down into more soul gems. His wyrm coiled protectively around him, prepared to receive any sneak offensives.

Ian sighed. Seems like they probably changed their plan once they saw my arrival. According to what Por’sha said earlier, the Kyeilans should have already stormed the beach. Ian spurred the wyrm to fly along the shore, his eyes roving for any sign of intrusion, but he had little luck finding clues in the physical and vital darkness.

Maybe this was all just a ruse to lure me away from the action. Ian’s eyes scanned the area one last time before he turned the wyrm around, heading back to Corvid. While the wyrm was still mid-turn, a pinpoint beam of light streaked forth, skirting the protective plating of the wyrm bones and splashing up against Ian’s personal bone shield.

So they did decide to engage me after all. He knew that the Kyeilans weren’t stupid: They’d put serious thought into their attack, bringing in practitioners to rival the Guard along with their special bears and wasps. If they failed today, they’d sustain major losses. Reason stood that they wouldn’t engage him without a plan.

The wyrm dovetailed and reversed direction, Ian’s eyes searching the foggy night for any sign of the enemy over the water. As he reached the harbor once more, a sudden explosion of light detonated under him, bursting upwards like a geyser. Though the wyrm was at least fifty feet in the air, the blast subsumed its form completely, corrosive energy trying to gnaw the construct apart.

The wyrm ducked out of the blast area, black flakes of acid-charred bone falling like snow as the construct surged toward the water. Ian was breathing heavily, his forehead dripping with sweat. The blast had been powerful, filling the wyrm with heated acid and corrosive fumes despite his precautions.

A group of fifteen practitioners finally came into view over the water, their v-formation illuminated by the soft glow of glosSwords. This particular group all rode the swords like skateboards, the blade positioned underfoot; Ian wondered how the practitioners kept their balance.

They changed formation as Ian came closer, scattering into groups of three. Ian thought that the Kyeilans would send a larger, less-individually-powerful force to the oceanside front, but he’d handle whoever they sent without complaint.

Ian wasted no time commencing an all-out assault, sending Bluebird to pepper the enemy with blasts of energy while throwing out bone shards. While bones cut toward the agile attackers, Ian steered the wyrm to chase after one of the groups.

Recognizing his advance, the targeted group put on speed, its members leaning forward into the ocean breeze as it buffeted their hair and robes. As Ian continued to close the distance, one practitioner held a sphere of water in her hands while her four companions moved their hands rhythmically, pumping it with energy.

Ian anticipated their attack: He swept up a swell of Death energy from the water, combining the raw energy with that of the concentrated soul gems to expand and strengthen his tri-layer bone shield against further acid attacks.

What he didn’t expect was for a geyser water to shoot up under him as the practitioner trio released the lightly-glowing liquid orb. Once more, the entire wyrm was enveloped in liquid...but this time, rather than being acidic, it was viscous, seeming to absorb the force behind the wyrm’s thrashing movements while oozing against Ian’s shield.

He squinted downward, noticing a contingent of nearly two-hundred practitioners temporarily exposed on the seabed, their raised hands moving in synchrony. The surrounding water rushed in, concealing their presence as flecks of goo dripped down from above.

I can’t waste too much time here, Ian thought, gritting his teeth. I need to head back to help the others.

Ian flinched when the wyrm plummeted downward, unable to keep itself afloat. He reacted without pause, seizing control of its bones and manually piloting the wyrm towards the object of pursuit: the five Kyeilans.

Limited by the oxygen within his bone shield, Ian began to stringently regulate his breathing. He tried to clear away the viscous ooze, recalling and repurposing bone shards to slice the liquid away. Despite the impediments, Ian was gaining on the Kyeilans, the wyrm radiating with dark, violet energy.

Just a bit closer...

Ian could practically feel them in his grasp when the wyrm was yanked backward, the world’s colors inverting and its outlines growing fuzzy. Ian snarled in annoyance, calling out to Bluebird, but the glosSword didn’t reply. In his altered state, he couldn’t sense how the ooze began to suck warmth out of the air, couldn’t see the crystals of frost starting to materialize over his shield.

At least this time it isn’t Kiehl, Ian thought. Time to put all the practice with Ezenti to use.

—

“Ian!” Por’sha called out. She found the decemancer halfway between the coastline and the capital. He was concealed within the bone wyrm, the construct’s ribs filled entirely with a mosaic of bones. The wyrm looked like it had been through a meat grinder, its bones chipped, perforated with holes, and discolored. Bluebird flew nearby, its sky-blue glow somewhat diminished.

“Por’sha...” Ian murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “How is Corvid?”

“Chaotic,” she replied, latching onto the wyrm to hitch a ride. “Let me in?”

Bones rearranged to grant Por’sha passage. Where a mere sliver of air had gotten into the wyrm’s midsection before, now her wind coursed throughout the entire reinforced ribcage. Dunai’s appearance was barely visible in the low light, but the wind painted a different picture.

The wind licked like gentle flames on his tender skin, causing him to shudder. “I’m fine,” he said, answering the unspoken question behind Por’sha’s held breath. “Or I will be. Why have you come looking for me? Are things that dire?”

Por’sha didn’t need to respond, the wyrm’s continued passage soon illuminating the situation at hand. The cloud cover had dispersed, the moon shining on the battlefield. Packs of bears and wasps continued to do battle with squads of SPU practitioners, fighting to a relative stalemate. The ground was a cracked barren, the earth alternatingly shattered, charred, desiccated, and wind-blasted.

As they approached the other front, Ian saw powerful practitioners dancing in the sky and throwing out blasts of the elements. Meanwhile, Deathseed constructs tore across the ground, ripping into the flesh of less-powerful Kyeilans and bears. The Deathseed itself was positioned atop a mound of corpses the size of a hovergloss, actively digesting and birthing new young. Ian watched as a child of mismatched flesh and bone launched into the sky and glided toward the airborne practitioners.

“We seem to be doing okay,” Ian murmured. “Could be better.”

Por’sha chuckled bitterly. “Unfortunately, things are only going to get worse. If the general weren’t still engaged in combat herself, I’d bring you to her for an explanation.” The wind elementalist sighed. “Our forward scouts have reported that Brinnish forces are making their way over to join the Kyeilans.”

“What of Selejo?” Ian wondered. He didn’t think that they’d sit still while everyone else entered the fray.

“Exactly,” Por’sha replied. “What of Selejo? We still hear that there’s no indication of Selejo mobilizing. It’s impossible, so our intelligence must be wrong. We have no idea what they’re doing outside of the predictions of our intelligence agents.”

Ian wasn’t sure what to say. “What’s the next move, then?”

“We need to clean things up here...but then you need to return to Zukal’iss.”

“...I see,” Ian whispered. They must suspect that Selejo is going to move on the capital while the SPU’s best fighters are occupied with Godora. The strategy seemed reasonable. “When?”

“Soon, possibly in the next hour or two,” she explained. “The general’s not just worried that Selejo will attack, but that its allies will cut off our return routes.”

Ian nodded his head. Earlier they’d shut down Corvid’s array station to prevent people abroad entering the country, but in doing so they closed themselves off to avenues of escape.

“Who else is coming?”

“A few of the Guard,” Por’sha said. “Lanhui, Druni. The general’s also sending back Colonel Koff.”

As Ian surveyed the devastation blooming out from Corvid like a grim flower, he found the prospect of return a relief. Their scrambled Godoran defense was messy, drawing out the battle and leaving mass destruction. Ian had no idea how the civilians were fairing when the world was going to shit around them. In the SPU, there was no battle, no Kyeilans nor Godorans nor Brinnish. If Selejo attacked, so be it, but at least the SPU was prepared to take an offensive.

“I’ll continue to offer assistance for now. Let me know when it’s time.”

—

“You need to sleep, prince,” Urstes murmured, his brow furrowed in concern.

Euryphel snorted and placed his hands on his desk. “How can you say that with a straight face? When was the last time you took time to rest since the others left, Urstes?”

The earth elementalist sighed and rubbed at his jaw, leaning on his sword. “It’s been a long day. But...you look exhausted.”

“I’ll be fine as soon as we clean up in Godora and bring the others back.”

“Do you regret sending them?”

Euryphel’s mouth curved downward. “No. You don’t follow half-measures when you’re gambling with your life.”

“The defenses are all readied,” Urstes added. “The water elementalists are poised to react at a moment’s notice and our artillery are armed and ready to fire. With respect to keeping you safe, we have other Regret practitioners than just you and Guardian Wolfien who can monitor the near-present.”

Euryphel nodded his head absently. But Maria is going to be anticipating all of this, he reasoned. The only thing that might catch her off guard is using the Deathseed, but it's not particularly effective on practitioners above 75% affinity. It would help, but it wouldn’t be the deciding factor between Selejo’s best and their own.

“I’m worried that we’re going to lose Corvid after Ian withdraws, but I’m not sure I have another choice.” He gave Urstes a tired look. “We’re sending in more reinforcements, but so are the enemy.”

“At least the Deathseeds are effective against rank-and-file,” Urstes commented. “That’s exactly who they’ll be sending for reinforcements.”

“True.”

Suddenly, Euryphel’s glosspad lit up, casting his hands in a faint glow. He narrowed his eyes and snatched it up, reading an emergency missive. One of his Regret practitioners found that the Eldemari and her allies were going to declare war in...

Euryphel watched as the seconds ticked down, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach. Now. He opened up a news feed stationed from Selejo, his heart thumping as reporters circled around the scarlet, earthen walls of the Cuna.

A minute later, the Eldemari opened the gates, allowing the reporters to stream in single-file. The Eldemari’s practitioners were everywhere, escorting the reporters while generally patrolling and surveying the entire courtyard. As the reporters approached the stoop of the Cuna’s recessed deck, the facade of the palace appeared the color of dried blood in the moonlight.

Finally, the Eldemari emerged from the palace and stepped onto an upper balcony. She took a moment to observe the crowd below, then began to speak, her voice amplified to fill the courtyard.

“Citizens of Selejo,” she began, her voice clear and high. “I come to you today with grave news. Many of you may already know that the Selejo Prince’s Union has broken the era of peace in the Ho’ostar peninsula. Unprovoked, they sent their military to storm Godora, seize Corvid, and force surrender.”

She paused, allowing her words to sink in. Euryphel didn’t realize that his hands were gripping the glosspad tightly enough to tremble.

“Prince...” Urstes murmured from behind.

Euryphel shook his head: The Eldemari was speaking again.

“The SPU abused the might of their champion, the suspected half-step ascendant decemancer Ignatius Julian Dunai, to both win the Fassari Summit and subjugate Corvid in minutes.”

Euryphel froze. She did it, he thought. She called him–us–out. They hadn’t broken any rules by sending Ian to the Fassari Summit, but he could imagine how the Eldemari was making their choice sound. Moreover, the implications weren’t false: They had sent Ian to the summit to try and gain as much of an upper hand as possible before waging war.

“I thought she’d keep that bit of information private,” Urstes murmured. “It’s too valuable to give away for free.”

“That’s what the Beginning practitioners told us,” Euryphel sighed. “That’s probably exactly why the Eldemari said it.”

“We believe that the SPU has gone too far in their thirst for power and influence. With heavy hearts, we state the following: Selejo is issuing its declaration of war on the SPU. Currently, the executives of Kyeila and Brin are giving a similar announcement. The three of us shall embark on a joint campaign to stamp out the SPU menace and restore order to the region.”

Maria turned away with a flourish and walked inside, pausing at the door of her balcony. She turned her head, seeing the stunned reporters stuck in their spots.

She gave them all a small chuckle, her mouth curving into a cunning smile. “That’s all. Please see yourselves out.”

Euryphel turned off the glosspad.

“At least you know she’s coming,” Urstes stated, trying to be positive. “It’s better than sitting in the dark.”

“Urstes...I need some quiet.”