Yeram’s eyes filtered across the occupants of the table he’d been sat at.

The day had taken as many twists and turns as it possibly could at this point, each new interaction seemed to change the course of the day in a not insignificant amount and, worst of all, Yeram seemingly had no control over it at all.

The man that currently held all of the power was the suited one at the end of the table closest to the door, to Yeram’s left. Maximilian Avenforth, the enigma of Crossroads’ high society of late. The way people talked about him made him seem like some magician, capable of turning any social situation into solid gold.

Yeram had hardly believed it, having stayed clear from the man for good reason, but now that he was in his presence it was starting to become abundantly clear that they might even be understating the truth.

The man happily ate his stew as he conversed with the others at the table casually, Rethi and the… girl sitting beside him being the first to let themselves fall into his orchestrations. Then it was the staff of the establishment, the owner, Tek, talking boisterously with Rethi about combat, the younger Tiliquan to his left listening in intently, though the Gek woman stayed quiet and demure.

Even Valeri was getting in on the conversation, taking any chance she could at talking to the man that she’d been pining over for weeks, even if it wasn’t necessarily a romantic longing.

Yeram could understand why, now that he could look the man in the eye and watch him work whatever power he had into every expressed word. It was like watching a skilled warrior in battle, but one of words and subtleties. There were so many inherent promises and discussions that each word brought, an intoxicating feeling of being understood and respected, to be talked to on a level that none could truly connect with you on.

It almost made Yeram forget about the events of earlier, and not just the attack he’d suffered at the hands of a Divine Warrior of the Sun, a being that stood to far outclass himself. As the clamour of dinner slowly began to die, Yeram found his eyes focus on the person he’d first seen when he’d opened his eyes after the unconsciousness he’d been forced into.

Alena. That was the thing’s name. When Yeram had awoken, he’d expected pain and suffering from the terrible wound that would have made its way down across his torso, searing the flesh only as a by-product of the brilliance of the Sun’s light.

But there was none. No wound, no pain, no tortuous recovery over the course of weeks and months.

He was healed.

The feat was miraculous, to put it lightly. Any true healing came at a massive cost, and only the exorbitantly rich could commission the services of someone capable of healing something as extreme as the wound that Yeram had been dealt so completely. The only other alternatives were tinctures created by those that fashioned themselves as alchemists or, more reliably, a doctor.

For him to find himself with no wound after waking from what could only be a few hour’s unconsciousness was simply unheard of.

And yet, the answer stood right in his vision, even now. The girl, the thing.

The Abomination Maker.

Yeram was subject, at that moment, to the greatest internal turmoil he’d experienced in his entire life. His life had hardly been a clean one at that, filled with dark depravities and actions that would only be called crimes if he weren’t working for the Empire and its interests.

But now, he saw a being that he knew he could kill in a moment, and it would be heralded as a service to all the worlds. If people were to know, they would praise him to the high heavens, they would say that he stopped the inevitable plague that the Abomination Maker would one day create.

“But that would be a very foolish idea, wouldn’t it?” A powerful voice finished Yeram’s own thoughts. The Shadow Walker would have jumped if he didn’t already expect that Maximilian was entirely aware of what was going on inside his head, a concession that he’d hesitantly made to be in the man’s presence, to be close to the source of what would no doubt be the Empire’s greatest enemy in the near future.

“I thought you were a smart man, Maximilian Avenforth.” Yeram intoned darkly, not allowing his gaze to turn away from the Abomination Maker’s form, regardless of the hostile look he was getting from the Divine Warrior at their side. The person themselves, Alena, was suitably disturbed by his intent and borderline murderous stare, her blue eyes sharpening as they focused ever so intently on him. As if she’d ever see his blade coming.

“I’m not sure I ever professed to be smart, Yeram.” The man said somewhat casually, gently spooning another mouthful of the admittedly delightful stew into his mouth, before gazing at Yeram unconcernedly.

“Yet you carry a being of mass destruction with you where you walk. Do you wish to create an army of those damned to a life of suffering?” Yeram felt the air inside of the room drop back to where it had been before the meal. The staff of the Skinned Lizard were suitably left behind in the conversation, unaware of yet another being of extreme power within the room, wearing the skin of a young girl.

“Maximilian,” Tek rumbled after a moment of silence hanging over the table, “what is he talking about?” Maximilian looked up from his stew, throwing a glance towards Alena as well.

Yeram saw the Abomination Maker’s guise slip. It went from perturbed to terrified as its identity was truly coming to light. The pale faced girl somehow went an even paler colour, looking more like a grey, something that Yeram had only seen so many times in the living, and thousands of times in the dead.

“The stage is yours, Alena.” Maximilian said while quickly finishing the last of his stew and then relaxing back in his chair as if the truth were nothing more important than having stolen a piece of bread. The girl herself stumbled as she glanced around the room, like a terrified deer trapped in the eyes of an overwhelming predator.

Her hands shook as she finally opened her mouth, clearly never having expected to reveal this to a group of people so openly.

“I–” She stopped, gulping against something that impeded her speech, “I’m a life shifter.”

Yeram could feel the sudden wave of hostility come from the members of the table, an instinctive and visceral hate, wormed into almost each and every culture that exists in the two worlds. Life shifters are anything but, they are the killers of thousands, and there is nowhere they will let to be safe—aside from their own secluded tribes, surrounded by countries prepared to send armies at a moment’s notice.

“What?” Tek’s voice intoned darkly, a fire burning in his voice of betrayal and anger. Yet, Maximilian was not one for a regular reaction. Without qualms, the man smiled at those around the table, confusing them with the strange dichotomy in his expression and the atmosphere.

“It’s terrifying, is it not?” He asked quietly, his eyes gliding to meet Tek’s and then Yeram’s. “You’ve known for probably your whole life that life shifters are dangerous, that they are the Abomination Makers who’ve committed unspeakable horrors.”

The man laughed jovially, breaking entirely from the atmosphere, and sending it all into an unstable mess of unsure footing.

“But you all sit in a room of people who hold great power and choose to do differently with it.” Maximilian tapped the table twice, calling attention to him as if it weren’t already on him, standing from his seat he began to walk around the table clockwise. “Shall we test the theory?” He said, his face splitting in a grin, holding complete command of every person’s attention.

“Rethi Orsen, born in a small road town towards the south and lived there long enough for his mother to get sick and almost die, becoming a beggar to survive.” Maximilian paused to sweep his gaze across the people present, placing a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, “With a little bit of help, he became someone I could easily consider my righthand man, capable of remarkable things if given the chance. He also so happens to be the sole successor of Mayer Renue’s, having had the Divine Blade of the Sun, Hindle, passed down to him in confidence that he’d use it to aid me in my quest.”

Yeram’s understanding of the boy affirmed itself against the description that Maximilian gave, though his being a beggar wasn’t something that he’d expected. Though those with the sort of power that Rethi held were rarely from a normal background. Maximilian took a few steps to the side, placing a hand on the shoulder of the mortified Abomination Maker.

“Alena Gram, daughter of a doctor insane enough to go to the life shifter tribes on Orisis and try to learn from them. Eventually he eloped with the daughter of their priestess, later bringing Alena into the world.” He smiled at the weak scowl the young girl gave to the almost sappy recounting of her beginnings, “They moved from town to town trying to hide their daughter’s newfound powers, and then her mother died, leaving her without guidance. With encouragement, and a fair deal of conflict, I helped her learn to understand her power on the basest level, so that she will one day make the fantasies of the sick come true.”

He smiled gently across the table, an air of sweet sadness overcoming the room. Yeram couldn’t push down the spark of empathy the man’s words had born for the young girl, somehow stubbornly staying regardless of his logical understanding of the situation. He hated that his defences could be so severely violated by Maximilian, his hardened heart birthed of the countless men and women he’d killed, injected with just enough life to feel for a girl laden with a power that hurts her to hold.

Yet, even as he came to the end of his own companions, he continued to make his way around the table. He stood behind Tenra, the Tiliquan kitchen hand and waiter looked at Maximilian dumbly, unsure what he could possibly know about his life. The man closed his eyes and smiled warmly, as if dipping into a pool of hot water, heated by the earth’s fire.

“Tenra, a man caught in a tribe that determined his worth by his usefulness.” The young Tiliquan’s reptilian eyes widened severely in a panicked wonder. “He found himself forced into a situation that only spelled his death, so he instead ran from it, wisely pushing against the pressure he’d had on his shoulders underneath his tribe’s callous eye. He grows stronger under the tutelage of a man that shares his ideals, accepting that he’s worth more than mere fodder and protection.” Maximilian moved again; eyes closed as he swam in the depths of something greater. Yeram could feel the sensation of a warmly lit fire against his skin now, radiating out from the man as he slowly drifted closer and closer to him and his mind.

“Tek, much the same as Tenra, was born to be something. Instead of accepting his fate, he railed against it, and was punished and cast out. He was the first of his kind to leave, a progenitor for those that would soon come to Crossroads in refuge. Now he seeks to correct Crossroads the way that he couldn’t in his own tribe.” Tek nodded gently, brow furrowed ever so slightly in a calm serenity.

However, Yeram watched as Maximilian’s next victim wasn’t so willing. Gehne, the blue-skinned Gek woman, shrunk back from Maximilian as he shifted to stand behind her, her grip tight against the sides of her simple dress. The man didn’t force himself forwards, just simply standing there with his eyes closed and waiting patiently.

Yeram saw the blue-skinned woman jolt slightly, but slowly eased her posture back into her seat comfortably, underneath Maximilian’s tall form. The man smiled gladly, even as his eyes were closed to her movements.

“Gehne, a woman always dispossessed and lost.” The woman’s face shuddered slightly, but stayed quiet, “She found a people for a time, but as one after another went missing, taken by an unknowable hand, she was forced to leave behind a life that she regretted and hated.” Maximilian paused heavily, as if he were hearing a response, and deciding that he was going to omit the words, “She left with one that she considered family, a brother, but was betrayed when they finally reached the ideal they had dreamt of together for so long.” He smiled sadly, nodding deeply.

Yeram watched the woman’s stoic guise slip, as if crumpling under an invisible weight. No more words were said as he continued to the next Gek man sitting beside her.

“Venn,” Maximilian intoned with an almost humorous voice, “believes in money, and only money.” The brown skinned Gek below him nodded happily, “However, he’s slowly coming around to the idea that there are good and bad ways to spend that money, and what information should simply be kept in the darkest recesses of his mind, no matter its monetary worth.” The Gek man screwed his nose up at the idea, but didn’t deny it, eliciting a chuckle out of Tek and Tenra, all too familiar with the annoying man’s money-grubbing tendencies.

“Valeri Ephars.” Maximilian called out, pulling the attention of the table again with a name some of the man have only heard in passing, but influential nonetheless, “A woman born into power and guided by the nose through her life, acquiring skills required for a life that never quite fulfilled her, her interests lying just on the other side of a seemingly insurmountable mountain. Yet,” He paused warmly, “she found a path forward, using a new understanding of the world from an entirely new perspective, and a blessing that has long laid dormant within her.” Valeri’s chin almost quaked with an invisible wave of emotion, and then Maximilian took the final steps towards Yeram.

Yeram hadn’t understood why those around the table were so content to give access to their minds, handing it over with barely a token resistance, yet as Maximilian Avenforth stood behind Yeram, he remembered.

He saw the memories of long ago, ones that he’d stamped down either because of the horror they had inflicted upon him, or because of the pain that they caused him now, too happy and idyllic for him to bear. The emotions of long ago surfaced as if they were all happening to him in the span of the few seconds that Maximilian stood behind him.

The pain of his parents selling him, the righteousness he’d once had as he entered the church’s ranks, the pain of the first living being he’d killed. The ‘invitation’ of the Shadow Walkers.

Then the carnage that had followed.

“Yeram.” Maximilian said sadly, “A life of pain and suffering, birthing a man who hated himself.” Yeram wanted so badly to pull away, but there was a primal need for him to stay, to let the man understand him at his deepest and darkest.

“But, he broke free of the chains.” The man intoned, flashes of emotions, anger and rage at the man who’d brought that carnage and death, then eventually the moment that Yeram had decided that he would disappear, to become a nothing somewhere else and hide in plain sight. “And now, he realises that there may yet be a solution to his past.”

Rethi, the ‘solution’ to the man who had plagued his past, and the future of the Brauhm Empire. The fear that those in the Light hold for the Darkness that now reigns dominant over the Empire and its people. Maximilian nodded slowly, returning to his seat, an expression of slight weariness on his face.

“And then me.” He said sadly, “A man from elsewhere, laden with the power and responsibility to save the worlds from the threat of my own people, the greatest of my people who live, no less.” He sighed as he looked around the room of mollified people, their minds and emotions dulled by the visceral experience they’d been put through.

“We all hide things in our pasts, our heritage included,” he sent an eye towards Alena, Tek, and Gehne, “But, we must work together if we want all of the things our souls scream out for. All you have to do is follow me.”