Turned out, Telent—Vigil of “Truth”—was full of horseshit.

I did not wake up feeling “better than ever.”

Nope, I woke up feeling like an angry gorilla had pummeled my skull and Jacob-Francis had taken a dump in my mouth. It was the goddamned manacles at my wrists, sucking the life from my body like I was a juice box. It also didn’t help that the brand on my forehead burned worse than a case of super gonorrhea.

I glanced around the manufactured stone hut and saw that everyone was gone. Blankets, furs, and bedrolls were all laid out, but there wasn’t any sign of Kerra and her friends. The fire had died down to cheery embers and crackling coals, which helped to banish some of the chill. The snowfall had stopped while I was down for the count and the gray light of predawn lingered above the pines.

I reached up and ground the palm of my hand into my forehead trying to quench the pain to a dull roar. After a few seconds, the blinding headache tapered off and I could think straight again, which was good. Because I’d learned the hard way that when my brand started acting up, it invariably meant something nasty was poking around in my immediate vicinity. I silently gained my feet, crept toward the narrow opening, and pushed my way out into the frosty morning. Kerra was waiting for me, leaning her forearms against a rectangular tower shield, its bottom edge dug into the snow.

“Hope you’re not thinking about making a run for it,” she said, though she didn’t bother to look at me. “It would be such a shame if I had to slice your Achilles tendon and sling you over the back of my mount.”

“Good morning to you, too,” I said, “and no, I wasn’t thinking of running.” I reached up and tapped a finger against my forehead. “Could be I’m wrong, but my gut says something bad is about to happen.”

Finally, she looked at me, her eyes hard, her lips just a thin line. “Curious,” she said. “I was wondering whether you would feel it. Aside from a visible display of our connection to Raguel, our brands serve as a natural warning mechanism. I’ve found the pain is always the worst when a creature comes upon me while I sleep.”

“Phrasing,” I muttered.

She cocked her head to one side and glared at me. “Raguel watches over us even when we slumber. When a creature with ill intent approaches, the sigil lets us know. The fact that you felt Raguel’s presence is a good sign. Not even the most powerful glamor could replicate that.”

“Wait, so you know there’s a monster sniffing around?” I asked.

She just stared at me. “I’ve been tracking its approach for an hour or more,” she replied. “All of us have. I suspect our senses are more finely tuned to the presence of Morkta than yours are. Assuming you are what you claim to be, your awareness will grow in power over time.”

She sounded like she was coming around to the idea that I was indeed a Vigil, but that didn’t completely ease the tension that had settled into my body. There was a monster out there and it was getting closer by the second.

“Hey, just spit balling here,” I said after a beat, “but since there’s a monster literally hunting us right now, maybe you could consider cutting me free so I can help out.” I lifted my hands and jangled the manacles at her. “That and not die horribly in case this thing guts you and your whole team.”

“Not a chance,” she replied, shaking her head. “We’re about to be quite preoccupied, without the manacles the chances of you trying to escape are extremely high. Consider it a small insurance policy.” She paused. “For what it’s worth, you are in no danger. I’ll protect you.” She patted a hand against her shield and shot me what almost could’ve been a playful wink.

Her words trailed off as a crunch and a crack echoed through the air and the trees across from me shook and swayed as though something monstrous was forcing its way through the foliage. The stomp of enormous feet reverberated through the ground and up into the soles of my boots. Whatever this thing was, it was fucking big with a capital B. Another crack followed—the sound of a snapping trunk—and then the pine trees parted revealing the head and shoulders of the biggest grizzly bear I’ve ever seen.

The thing was as wide as a M1A1 Abrams tank and had to stand eight feet, even trundling forward on all fours. It was so big that it made the warhorses look like a bunch of petite show ponies. Shaggy white fur covered its muscular body and swirling blue runes ran across its broad shoulders, down its limbs, and up onto its back. Great curling horns protruded from the side of its head and four, burning cobalt eyes sat above a muzzle filled with blue fangs that burned with arctic power

We’d somehow managed to attract a prehistoric demon bear, because of course we did.

“Now!” Kerra thundered as the beast edged into the clearing.

Four Vigils burst from the treeline and, with a wild roar, Kerra surged to the front of the battlelines, immediately planting herself in the path of the incoming beast. A crimson cloak burning with Arcana erupted from her back, billowing out behind her and snapping in a half-felt breeze. A watery halo of crimson light settled over each of the other Vigils. In the same instant, the ground trembled and thick spike-covered vines and roots erupted from the earth, snaking around the bear’s shaggy limbs, then climbing upward, miring the creature in place.

They didn’t hold for long, though.

The son of a bitch was just too powerful to be stopped by some overgrown foliage. The creature surged forward, dropped his head, and rammed his horns into Kerra’s upraised shield. Kerra was tiny even compared to me. Compared to Rabid Smoky the Bear? She was a fucking gnat. The hit should’ve sent her flying across the clearing like a golf ball. Instead, the bear slammed into her with a thunderous clang. She didn’t budge an inch while the bear stumbled back, staggering from the blow. Spikes of gold also radiated off her, slashing across the bear’s snout and leaving wide gashes in their wake.

I had to admit, it was a pretty impressive display.

Despite her ridiculous size, she clearly played the role of tank. She was probably running Matchless Endurance and Spiked Shell—both from the Bastion of the Protector—as well as some other assortment of skills I couldn’t identify. Maybe Unmoving Bulwark and Mantle of Sanctuary? Hard to say.

The bear shook off the recoil and lunged again, but this time Kerra pivoted and stepped right, avoiding the assault. Conjured replicas of Kerra sprang up around the monster in a ring. I spotted Telent hanging back, muttering under his breath. That was probably his handiwork. The bear lumbered in a slow circle, sniffing at the air, trying to decide which Kerra to attack. While it made up its mind, the three remaining Vigils went on the offense. Jori, the Vigil of Justice, darted in with surprising speed and summoned his soul bound weapon to hand—a short spear with golden runes running over the shaft of the weapon.

The spear was a blur in his hands, spinning and twirling with impossible speed as the blade opened up ferocious wounds across the bear’s legs, chest, and sides. Whenever the bear would twirl toward him, Jori would dance away, avoiding the creature’s lumbering swipes with ease. It was clear what fighting style he ascribed to—hit hard, don’t get hit in return.

Kol, the enormous Viking of Balance, took a slightly different approach to the fight.

He threw back his head with a bellow and his body appeared to rip apart at the seams as a monster emerged from the human shell. In a blink Kol was gone, replaced by a creature seven feet tall, covered in black scales with a flicking reptilian tail and the powerful crushing jaws of a crocodile. A shaggy lion-like mane of what appeared to be green moss enveloped the monster’s head while bits of rocky stone protruded from his shoulders, chest, and forearms like earthen armor. His back was covered with even more moss, along with sticks, vines, and bits of boulder.

Obviously, Kol was using Totem Transformation, though I’d never seen a monster quite like that one before. It looked more suited to a swampy marsh land than the frozen tundra, but Kol didn’t seem to mind the cold. He launched himself at the bear’s rear flank, claws carving deep festering wounds in the monster’s hide while his jaws took great out great chunks of meat, which the crocodilian murder machine gladly choked down its gullet. Having a few battle-field snacks seemed like an odd choice, but I definitely didn’t want to see the bipedal swamp gator hangry.

The final, remaining party member, Amherst, Vigil of Wrath, stood well away from the main battle. He held both hands up, no weapon visibly present. But then, he was the weapon. He dealt out a dizzying array of spells. Most of his spells were offensive in nature—javelins of red-hot flame, sledgehammers of raw force, spikes of ice that punched through fur and muscle. But he also played a fair bit of defense, casting Warded Shield, saving his fellow Vigils from devastating physical attacks, or using Life Siphon to eat away at the monster’s Essence and funnel it into his teammates.

Seeing them fight together was like watching a finely tuned engine fire on all cylinders. Everyone had a role, a purpose, a mission, and they executed them flawlessly.

Maybe Kerra was right. Maybe I really had nothing to worry about. Honestly, all I wanted was a bucket of popcorn to go with my ringside seats.

At least, that’s what I thought until the creature reared up on its hind legs; its head cleared even the tallest pines surrounding us, and its belly split open from sternum to groin revealing a giant tooth-studded maw.

What the unholy fuck was I even looking at?

“Fall back!” Kerra yelled, still holding her ground.

The bear’s belly mouth let out a deafening roar and then it vomited out a trio of smaller, horned bears. Though small is subjective. They were smaller than Grizzly Prime, but still as large as a run-of-the-mill Alaskan Grizzly. It didn’t even make sense. What about conservation of mass? The nasty son of a bitch was big, no doubt, but not so big that it could puke out three full-size grizzlies without deflating like a carnival balloon. But nope. Grizzly Prime dropped back down onto all four and as he hit, a shock wave rippled out in a circle, felling trees and knocking over Vigils like bowling pins, myself included.

Golden words swam into view.

>>

Bounty

Untimely Ambush: Your party has been waylaid by an Elder Fell Bear. Act now and dispatch the vile beast before it kills any of your fellow Vigils.

Reward: +500 Essence

>>

Just like that, I wanted to trade in my metaphorical bucket of popcorn for a Legendary Can of Elder Bear Mace. My mind raced. What in the hell was I supposed to do here? Kerra and her band of well-intentioned assholes had shackled me with manacles that literally sapped away all my divinely-granted magical powers. I couldn’t do shit.

But I wasn’t alone, I reminded myself.

“Renholm! Cal! You shit heads hiding around here, because if so, I need you now!”

There was a flash of movement on my right as a Barbie-sized glimmer of light darted in from the forest. Cal materialized beside me a second later.

“I knew you guys hadn’t abandoned me,” I said.

“Never, dude,” Cal said solemnly. “I was just biding my time until I could elbow drop these douche bags from the top rope. I’m always in your corner, dead or not.”

“Yes,” Renholm said, “and I couldn’t leave you behind—not because I like you,” he clarified before I could get the wrong impression, “but because you still owe me Affinity Scales.”

“Well if you want to get paid,” I growled, “then you need to help me not die. Which means helping these dick heads not die. That guy over there”—I nodded toward Telent, who was busy desperately fighting off one of the smaller, though still enormous, grizzlies—“took my Scale Pouch. Inside are my Transformation Tokens. Get one to Cal, then you two help wherever you can.” I turned to look at Kerra, who was going toe to toe with Grizzly Prime. “I’m gonna go get these goddamned cuffs off.”