“It happened a long time ago, Wind of the Northern Valleys.” The Prince stroked his pet, which licked the liquid fire of chaos from the demon’s fingers. “In those days, Miristal was young and beautiful. She danced at the best balls of the Seventh Heaven, and every man invited her to dance, but she was faithful to the proud Irmaril.”

Hadjar at first thought that the Demon Prince was speaking poetically again, but the demon seemed to be speaking about the heavenly bodies as if they’d really had consciousnesses and minds, and he himself had seen them in the flesh. Well, considering the fact that Hadjar was possibly talking to a sentient volcano that embodied all the chaos of the Nameless World right now, that might actually be the case.

“In the days when the gods walked the Mortal Lands, we didn’t know discord. All four countries were united by a single purpose — the fight against the creatures living beyond the Verge.”

Hadjar knew little about the Verge. Many decades ago, back when he had found himself in the temple of the God of War, he’d met a novice of said god. The Immortal monk had shown him a map of the Nameless World and its four countries, spheres, or worlds, whatever they were. But all these areas were separated by a bold line — the Verge — beyond which was a space so alien to reality that it had no real name.

Hadjar had always felt like the lack of a proper name for what lay beyond the Verge had something to do with Names, but so far, he hadn’t been able to formulate his feelings into thoughts and words.

Before the first Darkhan had sealed the Verge, cutting off the creations of the Void from reality, the whole world had been united by one goal — survival. The creatures of the Void had been so strong that a lot of gods, demons, and Spirits had died at their hands, and humans had barely survived under the onslaught of monsters that had only kept growing in power.

“After the triumphant victory of the Black General, while we celebrated the beginning of peaceful times, something happened that none of us could have foreseen. Our hero, immortalized in song by the Heavens and the Earth, turned away from his rulers. The Black General betrayed Derger, the Jasper Emperor, and descended to earth. He said that only one battle had been won, not the whole war, and that while we’d protected the Heavens from the Void, intelligent beings, those of flesh and blood who walk the Earth, still suffered from their ignorance. Naturally, after he brought people the light of knowledge about the path of cultivation, he was declared a traitor and became fair game to all.”

Hadjar had heard this part of the story. Moreover, he’d seen and even fought against one of those agents who had been sent by the Seventh Heaven to destroy the one who’d stolen their fire of knowledge and brought it to humans.

“I don’t know, flesh and blood one, if there are any stories about the Black General left in your country, but he was a great warrior,” the Prince ran his claws over a long scar that covered his torso. “Maybe he was even the greatest. Apart from me, only a few of those who fought against him were able to live to tell the tale.”

Hadjar heard a chuckle inside his soul. A fragment of the Black General’s soul was right in front of the Prince at the moment. Most surprising of all was the fact that Helmer knew about it, but the demon lord didn’t.

“He was naive in some ways because of his youth,” the Prince continued. “He was proud, like a swaggering peacock, but also full of honor and dignity. I believe that the Seventh Heaven and the geezer in the jasper nightgown forever covered themselves with the shame of dishonor when they accused him of betrayal. The Black General, my old enemy, can be considered anything but a traitor!” The Prince slammed his fist on the armrest of his throne and the volcano responded with a roar of flame and lightning.

“If a warrior follows their honor, nothing else matters. It doesn’t even matter where that path leads them... But we’ve strayed from the topic at hand. After the ages of wandering and battles, when the last flying city of human mages fell, the Black General showed up on my doorstep. He was wounded. His people and followers had been exiled to the North Wind Country. He himself was tired of the eternal battle and sought only sweet oblivion and eternity.”

The last flying city of the mages… Hadjar had visited its Library and seen the Spirit of the girl who’d once sheltered the fallen half-god, not knowing how it would turn out for her people. He hadn’t known the whole story back then, and he probably didn’t know it now, but at least he had a few more fragments of the past at his disposal this time.

“To honor the memory of how we fought side by side in the last battle at the Verge Gates, I gave him shelter here. I gave him the opportunity to lick his wounds. And how did he repay me? He whispered to my servants, MY SLAVES!” The Prince’s eyes flashed, and pillars of fire surged from the mouth of the volcano. “He whispered to them something about freedom, about being able to choose their own destiny... about how laws, rulers, idols, and ways were unnecessary. This whisper rose up in a wave that swept through all countries, Wind of the Northern Valleys.”

Hadjar listened to his soul. The Black General remained silent. He rarely spoke, anyway. He just sat on the hill in the center of the world of Hadjar’s soul and contemplated reality through his descendant’s eyes.

“That’s why he is a traitor!” The Prince raised his hand. “Not for revealing our secrets to mortals. Not for giving up his rank of General and going to wander the world. Not even for refusing to draw his sword do I call him a traitor, you sack of flesh and blood. That’s why, because you still owe me for not tearing your soul apart after what you did to my city in the Mortal Lands, I want you to complete my commission. Of course, you can always call upon my debt to you in response, and then we’ll have settled the score.”

Don’t even think about it! Helmer’s whisper sounded in his head again. If the Prince pays back his debt, he will immediately devour you.

Hadjar knew that already.

“I’m ready, honorable Prince, to pay back my debt to you,” he replied calmly.

The Prince shrugged his shoulders. The situation was advantageous for him regardless. If Hadjar took advantage of his old debt, the Prince would immediately kill him, getting rid of an annoying fly. If he didn’t and went to complete the mission instead, everything would be fine as well. If he succeeded, the ruler would make a catspaw of him. And if Hadjar died, it would be even better…

“Go to the land that humans call the Strange Lands.” The Prince raised his palm in a permissive gesture and Helmer, after whispering something, got to his feet. Behind them, the nightmare lumps began to form the archway of his portal. “Destroy the Raven Castle, the citadel of the Raven Sect, the hosts of so many fragments of the Traitor’s soul. Kill their leader and everyone you encounter along the way.”

Before Hadjar could answer, Helmer pulled him into the open portal.

***

“What the-”

“Before I leave, Hadji, I want to say that I definitely took good care of you. You definitely won’t be able to complete this task without help, so I brought one of the groups of idiots who tried to break through to the Ruby Palace here.”

“What do you-”

Helmer disappeared.

Hadjar found himself sitting at a table in a noisy tavern. He looked around and saw familiar faces. Abraham Shensie waved his hat in greeting. Itia was arm wrestling with some thin guy. Guy was sharpening his axe. Gustaf was throwing knives at a target with a group of mercenaries on a bet. A red-bearded dwarf handed Hadjar a wooden mug full of fragrant booze.

“Glad to see you again, Hadjar-dan. You look... healthier. Have you cured your soul illness?”

“I’m glad to see you too, Alba-udun. Is there any more booze? I feel like I’m going to need it.”

“I’ve got something better, my friend,” the dwarf handed him a bag of spicy tobacco. Well, that was also a good idea.