The mounds of charred dead stretched out across the shattered hills as Usd’ghi picked her way through them. So many corpses weren’t worth bothering with, as their valuable pieces would glut the markets soon enough. The few items scattered here and there carrying sufficient enchantment soon filled many storage items carried by Usd’ghi. Power took her to the broken giant’s remains and let her see what had shone in the mists. Next to the pulped remains of the former Lord Qjiadlóv upon whose body she stood lay the glowing shards of true Power she had sensed from far.

The mists were a maelstrom about them, as the Abyss ached from the ‘feathers’ touching against its reality. With great care, Usd’ghi willed each feather into a unique bag. Each far longer than she was tall, their broken shafts barely fitting into the bag’s mouth held in her outstretched arms. Their energy was shimmering so close to her skin it savaged against protections, each attempt needing retreat and renewal.

Qjiadlóv would oppose the four no longer in this war he should have avoided. Still, his stupidity prompted by her forceful opposition to his plans had born her rich fruit. Now she’d found Qjiadlóv’s corpse retrieving his possessions could wait; no one could lay claim to what she’d crafted. With the last feather stored away, reality tore open and through to home. Her form changing as reality’s wound closed, and the last vestige of its confining rules faded from Usd’ghi’s flesh.

Usd’ghi sat, watching the mist of fate swirl around her hand as the grimoire on her worktable closed. Trails of her fate usually obscured rippled out in the mist, more solid than she had seen since before the war of four. Ùeqräkas ignoring her advice had ruptured many of the fate lines she had expected, but not as many as hoped. That feathered bitch would answer for the eons of work her meddling had ruined, the chances of power she had stifled. The only satisfaction Usd’ghi had gained was seeing Balnérith’s fall in person, though other’s choices had blocked her hope to end her existence.

The surrounding mists had shuddered when Naz’ricla's mother had handed her the whelp during the ceremony of blood. Many branches led to the child’s power and the others strangely stretching towards the unknown. Other Hags might fear such, yet Usd’ghi was no stranger to it. The Abyss had plenty of what others deemed the unknown, or unknowable, and for Usd’ghi seizing power from either was enticing. Plans were one thing that never survived in the swirling landscape of the Abyss. Usd’ghi had seen many beings ended because they had no flex in their whims; it was much better to use broad frameworks and have a wide range of pieces to gain the desired outcome. Discarding useless pieces and using those worthwhile till Usd’ghi wrung them dry of value was the surest path.

The mists revealed to her enough to know where this useless pawn's fate lay. Images of ultimate destructions had shown within the mists around the child, yet the ones farthest away were the strangest. Those paths held so many strange gaps in foretelling, though the images left promised plenty of profit and carnage. Mist unfurling showing Naz’ricla pressing against the empty air of one unseeable, through wards bearing her mark, but not yet made.

Naz’ricla's head presented intact with restitution shone on another distant branch given by that same unseen. Death after death of that child in fate's branches with nothing in common but ignoring a warning; so many choices beyond her control that brought that unseeable one to Usd’ghi’s door. The worst of those first meetings rippled with the unseeable’s power and Usd’ghi’s ultimate destruction. There the Order’s sigil shone with victory at Usd’ghi’s undoing, having burnt and crushed deep into one and unseeable. The first meeting would determine options among barely hinted fates, yet fate showed no keys to twist its locks. Then courses that stretched out with their bubbles of chance showing in the unknown. Some mounded with riches, influence, and favours owed to set long-delayed goals within reach.

So much unknown filled Usd’ghi with delight and left her feeling millions of years younger. A dire and delicious choice somewhere had its ripples approaching the edges of the Titan’s creation. Bubbles of possibility, with so many unseen linkages, frothed in its coming. The weapon now in front of her just one of those bubbles. The sigil glowing in the mists along the path decided her course; she’d warn the stupid whelp when the time came to provoke her properly. The essence of direct kin was a useful thing; Naz’ricla’s corpse would provide that in time, on any path where she failed to heed the warning. One of her lineage wearing the Sigil of that abomination’s Order made Usd’ghi seethe with rage. Though rage she knew was impotent, mere energy to apply to the right fulcrum, it was even less than mortal piss and wind with no leverage.

“Now, to find the leverage. What are you, my little unseen? What delightful chance at power will you bring me? Will you be useful or bring me to another worthy of time spent?”

Even while Usd’ghi muttered, she chose, and the mists swirled towards the unknown. A case floated and unfolded before her while the grimoire returned to its place. Usd’ghi turned to focus on a rough War Mattock with an inscribing tool selected, its quality far beneath what was ordinarily worthy of her skill. Its acquisition had been an impulse, driven by sheer curiosity at the mists having swirled around a mere object. Now Usd’ghi wanted to see what delightful carnage it might bring.

The mist's path showed it dropped soon from her hand amid a baying crowd of BrÍn. There was sufficient time before the BrÍn’s next brood day to complete it. If nothing else, it would be fun to see who among the guests they planned to kill. Likely some fool that couldn’t believe it was them whose blood would feed the arena’s floor. They’d not dared to invite Usd’ghi for eons for a good reason, so she’d arrive uninvited and see if they dared object. Still, she had such delightful memories of the last BrÍn elder thinking he’d forced her hand. He hadn’t foreseen what the brood raised from her blood would do. A century spent lying low researching spells for her Coven’s grimoires and guiding new pawns on the board had been no hardship for her.

When Usd’ghi’s turn came, it had been amusing to watch his face when the trap's ultimate stage had closed. Convinced no one knew all his bound planes, he’d grown careless. Elders so often needed to educate the younger, even if they weren’t of the blood. It always delighted her to seize the chance to teach one such a lesson they deserved. Their new elder was much more respectful to the Coven’s power, for now.

A choice made Usd’ghi set the first rune of binding and felt fate click. Such poor material would need a delicate touch. The freshness of mystery filled her with delightful anticipation, even as she could feel the baying crowd about her. Usd’ghi looked forward to the bloodshed ahead and a business's challenge in dealing with the Titan’s coinage. Such a delightful treasure it might bring to her grasp and profits for the Coven’s coffers.

Metal clinked in tempo to the charging crowd as shells cracked and BrÍn fell free to the blood-soaked floor. More and more bubbled up through the surface, spreading blood, yet none promised what she sought.

“Which will you bet on, witch?” A growling voice near her question, its tone as polite as its kind could manage. With a glance towards it, she nearly cast its destruction until motion caught her eye. Stone burnt and flared with force, as a BrÍn came forth not from blood, nor shell, but the stone itself close against the Arena’s wall. The mists ignited and space cleared about it, yet no path of fate showed its way.

“A coin on that one,” said Usd’ghi, as she held up a coin of Pure Night.

“Only even money if you intend to gift it that Mattock.”

“Done.”

Even as they fix the bet, it's driven into the wall by another; as heads clash, Usd’ghi’s will breaches the distance. When the attacker staggers back, she lets the War Mattock drop.

“Kill your way to the stairs whelp I’ve got a coin riding on you now.”

The strange one didn’t even look about at her words, seizing up the weapon and goes for the kill.

It has potential. How was it born from the Abyss’s stone?

A sliver of a feather glowing with Abyssal energy rippled as energy and will touched against it. The Castellan's distant will failed unknowingly under her own. Contempt and arrogance flared under her will as the power set words of anger and conviction at the reports within its fate’s threads. As the feather ignited, Usd’ghi smiled, and the mists swirled before she turned towards the guest again. With an outstretched hand, she offered the agreed payment.

“As agreed,” Usd’ghi said.

“As agreed,” said Tras’laqì, the offered book disappearing at its touch.

Ternòx is dangerous perhaps she'll need a guide if she asks. If not, then she'll be even sooner within the forge.

As Tras’laqì scurried off to his job within the Order's stronghold, Usd’ghi settled down to wait.