I found my friend in the bowels of the Wreckage, cutting a slice of meat with one of her daggers. Even now her razor-sharp blade glinted dangerously in the half-light of the one lantern swinging calmly above the tables of the officer’s mess.

She looked up sharply as she heard me coming. She had her mane wrestled into a tight braid running along the curvature of her head. I reckoned her ears had been damaged in the fight against the sirens as well, and now even the pressure of a strand of hair above her ears was uncomfortable for her. That or she wanted to have the unobstructed ability to hear and thus made sure her ears were free.

She nodded curtly, her face a mask, but the thin line of her lips pressing on each other betrayed her tension.

“Found you.“ I said with forced joviality, sitting across from her. “You are a hard woman to find, Simue.“

She snorted. ‘I was not trying to hide‘ her glinting eyes said to me.

I swallowed. “Listen, Simue, I...am not good with this. Thank you for coming with me to the cave. You saved the day. Maybe even our lives and the future of the resistance in the Fallen Empire. So...thank you for that.“ I said awkwardly.

She shrugged. As embarrassed by my awkward attempt to make conversation as I was. ‘No big deal‘, she seemed to imply.

I let the silence between us linger for too long, listening to the hustling and bustling of the people around us, getting food, and excitedly telling the stories of their hard day's work. I caught myself drawing circles onto the surface of the table with my finger and looked up to Simue.

“Listen. You are my friend. It is how I see it. We fought together, we bled together...we had each other’s back. That is what counts most. If you...if you want to talk, I don’t know. Or just...seek company? I will...I mean, you can come to me, you know?“ Damned gods and the dead that had been awful. I cringed.

Before I could say any more she put her hand on top of mine, interrupting me with a look. I know.

I nodded. “I want to descend into the chasm below the Shattered Lands.“ I said. “The last piece of the puzzle has to be there and I want you at my side. You are the only one I can count on to make that trip.“

Simue just nodded, returning to her meal and the joyless cutting of the meat.

One deep breath. One more. This was harder than I thought it would be. Aye, I had somewhat learned how to speak with authority. But to speak to a friend about something bothering you? That was nearly impossible.

I summoned Kingsbane.

The black blade appeared in the air above the table, the runes glinting in the light, and I put it down gently, but the sheer weight of the sword made the cutlery jump all over the table. Simue jumped slightly. Around us talking and laughing stopped as the giant sword appeared. They looked and whispered to each other, clearly interested in what was going on here.

I looked at the sword lying between us, then up to my friend, who was studying it with furrowed brows. She threw me a questioning look.

“This is Kingsbane.“ I said. “I do not know if you have seen it up close. Go ahead, touch it. It is a marvelous sword. An Artifact, if you would believe me.“ She let her fingers run up and down the length of the blade, leaning in closer to get a look at the runes barely shining at the base of the blade.

“It is called Kingsbane, also the Betrayer - after the man that made his legend with it in his hands. He used to call it Whisper.“ I looked her in the eyes, trying to give my next sentence more meaning. “It is the sword that can cut everything.“ I held her gaze. “And I do mean everything.“

It took a second for my meaning to reach her, but when it did, she pulled her fingers away as if burnt by the metal and stared at me, deciding whether to categorize me as an enemy yet, judging by the face she pulled.

“I just...There is an option. I figured you should know about it.“

The sword laid heavy between the two of us as her face darkened. Then she pulled out her notebook and began to furiously write, hasty letters on aging paper.

Don’t you dare!

“I worry, is all.“ I said, grasping the hilt of Kingsbane and storing it away in the [Hidden Sheath]. “Your Skill, your life, your decision. I just was shocked to see her - in the cave, you know? I have no idea what is going on.“ I could not quite look up to her.

I looked at the paper as she had finished her scribbling. None of your business. Never bring it up again.

Her eyes were burning with thinly veiled anger.

“I just want to help. She was my friend, too.“ I evaded the fiery pit of her stare.

Again she touched me, but with hesitation. When our hands touched, hers stayed on top of mine. I know.

We would have left the next morning, but a heavy snowfall made the climbing I had planned too dangerous, so I was impatiently staring into the dancing snowflakes, trying to calm the weather by force of will alone. With not much of a success, as I found out, unnecessarily adding to my sour mood.

There still were forces of nature in this world not bowing to my will as a godling. Yet.

I routinely checked all supernatural connections I had established in my Demesne, namely those I had to the knights, the unbound rangers, Grim, and Cogar. I could not glean much, but they all had been bound to me in some way or another, and I could at least tell that they were unharmed.

It was somewhat infuriating to be sitting in the warmth and comfort of Ravenport, knowing that people were out there, in the middle of winter, fighting a fight that as much was mine as it was theirs.

The rangers led by Grim out north, scouting out the forces of darkness that I had freed from their prison below the mountains of the Divide.

The knights roaming the Wyld on their quests, which, as they were completely out of my control and somehow being of the Song of the Wyld, were a source of much a furrowed brow for me. Was it the system generating quests for my knights? Or was there some form of consciousness, or a will, to the Wyld? I had asked Kara, and she had said yes, yes, and yes once more. But she would have said the same thing about every tree and every rock. That just was a [Shaman] for you.

And there was Cogar, my brother in spirit, still gathering the clans of the Wyldlings that had not followed the Snake Clan into battle against the former Empire of the Sun. I had absolutely no idea what was going on, as I had not received another vision of him, after the first one that had taught me about his struggles.

They all were alive. And that was a success, as far as I was concerned. What I hated most was that I had neglected to make them all companions when I had the chance. I had no way of knowing, for example, if Thimotheus, the fire mage, was still alive. He had gone braving the sea with Captain Locksley and the Albatross, and every day I grew a little more restless as I was awaiting their return with.

I had sent out a [Bearer of Bad News] towards the Albatross, of course, but without knowing where they were exactly, it could take the mystical ravens days or even weeks to find their target, if it even was within their range.

What I could do, was listen to the small pangs of...recognition. I had no idea how to describe the feeling otherwise. Sometimes, I looked into the whirling patterns of the snowstorm and...saw something. Felt something ... meaningful.

The feeling was strongest when I looked into the swirling clouds for too long. My vision soon began to blur, while my mind raced to find some sort of meaning in the irregular movement. I was sure that was my Skill, [Reader of Ill Omens], trying to find something to be interpreted. But either there were no such omens when the Skill activated, or I failed to recognize them.

Maybe I was meant to enforce the Skill, by...I wouldn‘t even know where to start. The flight of wandering birds? Throwing the bones to read the future? As far as I know, such practices had been frowned upon in the days of the empire and even I had laughed at the notion. For me to have such a Skill now was...I had to rethink a few things, to be honest. My Skill seemed to let me read the omens, not understand them. If I wanted to make use of it I had to learn and I was missing a teacher.

As the unrest took me, I returned to my books. Because there was something I could learn. I could learn more about the forging of Skills, which had proven to be a powerful asset, and I could begin reading the works of the golem maker. Because why not? I had seen war golems in action, down in the bowels of the silent city, facing off against the creatures of darkness, and I could see them lining the main gate of Ravenport, once we had built something deserving that name.

I would not be at war forever, would I? I would be able to build something meaningful, beautiful even, for the future of my people sometime? Well if I wanted to do that, I had better started yesterday with the reading.

Which was a chore at the best of times. The introductory books were on a level I had no means of understanding, and in a foreign language as well, and grasping any and all information through the use of [Decipher the Ancient Truth] was time-consuming and Mana-intensive. I did not make much progress.

Thank all the dead gods and those damned by their own demise when finally the weather cleared and I met with Simue, clad in fur and leather, to descent into the chasm. We walked silently, determined, and reached the edge of the staircase, the rickety construction leading down the side of the Needle facing the Shattered Lands. I had climbed the face of this wall, once. Looking down now, the stretch I had made that day was covered by the wooden construction already.

We took the ramps, ladders, platforms, and knotted ropes down, carefully placing our steps onto the slightly wet and thus slippery wood. The noise of the waterfall was deafening and some of the spray just hung around in the air, moistening everything just that little bit.

It was dangerous, as every morsel of mortality in me screamed, and straight stupid to climb a wet wall in winter, but it was a danger I could fathom. Not only that - it was a danger I was well prepared to face. I was good at it, even before I had augmented my body with the stuff gods had created the world out of.

Where I was good, Simue was a prodigy. She traveled lightly, she was not concerned with the weight of a tall man in winter clothes. She flew across the construction with a grace and ease that took all my concerns for her well-being away from me. If one were to fall, it would be me.

And that was not going to happen, now, was it?