The mountain behind them was covered in black soot and newly hardened stone. The magma that had been drawn out of the earth had surged through the tunnels and mines, blasting apart the rock before being jettisoned into the sky. None of the diggers in the mountain had survived, and perhaps some from neighboring peaks had been caught in the aftermath as well. The ash and heated stone still lingered in the sky, painting the clouds black and swallowing the sun. Even the ground was covered with veins of still-oozing lava, the air blurred with bubbling heat and shimmering steam.

Lily felt a tremor run down her spine as she took in the spectacle; they had been blown far enough away to take in the mountain and the sky at the same time—just how strong had that force been? The ash here was thick enough to hide her thumb in, the air hot enough for skin to be covered in a pale sheen of sweat. She shuddered to imagine what it was like closer to the volcano, what it was like in the crane shaft that they had been just moments ago. It seemed death still sought her hand, and its repeated attempts to sway her heart lingered like a kiss.

Just how much mahji did this demon have? The thought struck her suddenly. Such feats of carnage and destruction were not impossible, not even unheard of. The greatest channelers served on the front lines of war, and they could remake the world if needed. Yet their strength came from ages of tutelage and studies, learning to focus and refine their strands of mahji until they could do with a drop what others needed an ocean for.

Yet this demon—Joy—had done a similar feat without practice or even understanding. He had not even understood magic until she had explained it not a week ago, which meant that this accomplishment had been made in the simplest manner: with brute force. Without refinement, with immense waste, he had drawn the magma out of the rocks below. So just how much mahji did Joy have inside of him?

Joy’s rough words shook her out of her reverie. “Now what?” He was squatting on his legs, claws scraping the stone and ash in curiousity. Mismatched eyes started into her own, and she swallowed from sudden nervousness.

“We’ve crossed the Twisted Spires, meaning we’re out of the Outlands now. This Kingsroad won’t be far from here.” she spoke, gesturing further south towards a thicket of trees and tall grass. “If we follow it, it’ll take us straight to the Capital. With any luck, they’ll take us for some more war refugees and we won’t be questioned any further.”

Joy grunted, standing slowly and stretching his back. “And Skal’ai? Will they follow?”

Lily scowled, thinking. “The legends said that Skal’ai were bound with their mother in their prison. If that prison is the Outlands, they shouldn’t be able to escape.” They’ll merely breed and swallow the whole Outlands, but the rest of us will be safe.

He gave a snort, tossing his head like a dog. “Then why go to Capital? If they not chase?”

Brushing the soot from her now-ragged clothes, she stood up as well. “Because if the stories are true, then their master was buried there as well. And if the Skal’ai are waking, then Sin is as well.” She pointed to the gem in his arm, the black stone that made her skin crawl just from gazing at it. “He wore three gems of power around his collar. Yours there is one. I have—had—one as well. He was supposed to have been buried and his blackstones broken. If they aren’t, well, they’re the source of his power. If he gets them back…” She did not finish the thought, instead reflecting on what she had just said. The blackstones were the source of Sin’s power—the legendary Sin who was supposed to be able to swallow the world in darkness. Could they have been providing Joy with his strength as well?

“So if we can make it to that Capital and convince them that the Skal’ai are a threat, then maybe we can stop this crow-cursed plague.”

“Why do you care? Why not run?” Joy grunted, and it was a thought that she had occurred to her before.

“Because if Sin’s really waking, then he’ll be able to break out of this prison with ease. Then these things won’t stop chasing, and I think—I think they’re hunting us. The ones that found his blackstones.” She remembered whispered to her, in her broken dreams. Child. You cannot hide. Your demons will tear you apart. They chilled her, sent tremors to her very bones. “No matter how far we run, if Sin wakes, we’ll never escape. So I’d rather fight him now, when he’s still weak.” Having said that, her face flushed red with a mixture of embarrassment and determination.

Joy was silent for a moment before suddenly nodding, turning to gaze off towards the south. “Then I follow. Sister.” A gratitude rose in her, unbidden and unexpected. That brief happiness was swiftly swallowed up by surprise and guilt. Since when had she allowed herself to get so comfortable with this demon?

They are monsters, ruin made manifest. They are insatiable, inexhaustible, irrepressible, immortal. They are my hunger given flesh , my weakness incarnate. They are a scourge on these lands. They are a blight on my soul—on that poor shattered thing that I so arrogantly call a soul still. They are monsters.

They are my children.

“What are these...flowers?” Joy hissed, tugging another burr free from the fur on his leg. The brambles caught fast onto his pelt, digging in tight with a surprising tenacity. She could only laugh at the struggles of the great demon, the brambles and bushes proving to be a greater inconvenience than initially expected.

“I’m telling you, just wait until we camp and get rid of them all at once. You’re just wasting time for now.” She gave a sigh as they trudged onwards through the vegetation, the demon crashing through vines and vegetation with all the grace of a butchered cow. “And could you be quieter, aren’t we supposed to be hunting for food?”

Her stomach screamed in agreement, the pangs of hunger already a familiar sensation. Ever since he had left her pack behind in the Outlands, they had to subside on meager berries and leaves. With any luck, this could be their chance for some glorious, heaven-blessed meat. Of course, that would be only a dream if he scared off all the rabbits and deer before they could even see any.

Joy gave a grunt in reply before continuing forward, more careful as he slowly placed his large feet. Yet he did not even make it ten paces before stepping on a fallen branch with a snap, the noise loud enough to be mistaken for breaking bone. Lily could only give a sigh before letting her dream of meat go. It seemed that she would have to get used to the taste of berries, at least, until they made it past this vegetation to the Kingsroad. Once there they could, ah, ameliorate any excess goods from wandering merchants.

“Quiet.” Joy suddenly hissed, crouching down in the brush until his black form was nearly completely obscured by shadow. Every aspect of his body and posture warned of danger, from the fur that was raised on the back of his neck to the corded muscles of his legs that seemed ready to pounce or flee. Uncertain of what was going on, she could only kneel and peer through gaps in the leaves. Confusion made her nervous, made her heart start to race and her palms start to sweat despite not knowing anything. She did not know what he had seen—or if he had even seen anything, for that matter. Yet it was not long before she heard something rumbling on the horizon.

There was a sensation like the earth beneath her was trembling, and that rumbling sensation grew louder until it was reverberating in her eardrums. It took her a few more breaths before she realized that they were hooves. It sounded like a rolling tide, like thunder was crossing the land, and awe filled her as she realized how many must be coming. Furiously, she began to think.

Altarosans never used cavalry; they simply lacked the resources and infrastructure to support such an investment. Without a largely nomadic lifestyle, they never had a great use for horses. Ever since the early days of the country’s history, riders were only used as messengers along the Kingsroad. Even chariots and carriages were little used over such long distances, and for shorter travel some nobles preferred to use Abaratt palanquins from the east. For such a large force of cavalry to be traveling along the Kingsroad would simply be unheard of.

A shiver ran down her back as she contemplated the other option. Malifori, in comparison, were expert cavalrymen. The sand-covered plains and arid grasslands of their country meant that horses were a necessity for hunting and travel. Even after the development of metalworking, they continued to pursue cavalry in warfare in their ever frequent raids into the west of Altaros. Their land lacked resources, and so the frequently expanded and plundered their neighbors for much-needed steel. Without large iron stores, the largest masses of the Malifori army were mounted archers, still using bronze-tipped arrows with armor made of horse leather.

Indeed, their greatest strength was always their numbers and speed. When compared to Altarosan legions, they could outmaneuver and outpace infantry with ease. As such, after the regained control of the west from Malifori conquest in the past, Altarosans had swiftly built the Gates. The huge ramparts of stone and steel stood as tall as the Peaks, manned by soldiers day and night. Malifori speed and numbers would do nothing against those massive walls, and they lacked to tools and techniques needed to construct siege weaponry. The Gates had stood strong for over four generations, and their strength had passed the test of time over and over.

Indeed, they were so strong that there had been practically no threat of conflict from the Malifori for over forty years. Much of the Capital’s so-called war now was sending prisoners and convicts out past the Gates, hoping to kill as many Malifori with those ordained to die in any case. The Malifori never retaliated past those first two times, for the blood spilled by their people in front of those ramparts was surely a horror passed on for generations. And the Altarosans were safe in their security behind those walls; the Gates were the only way to enter Altaros by land; all other routes were by sea.

Yet the thunder of hooves could only mean Malifori, could only mean conquest. Lily found herself holding her breath, praying that she was mistaken. Perhaps the king is expanding his interests, she thought, hearing the noise draw closer. Perhaps it is just a delegation of merchants from the west. Yet she knew they were empty hopes, and she already knew what she would see before it passed before her eyes.

An army of horses and men stormed along the Kingsroad, without banners or any coats of arms. Their leathers were dyed red, the youngest and unblooded with paint, the veterans from warfare itself. Their horses were great beasts, coats tan and white to resist the hot sun of their nation. Their riders bore massive bows of wood and sinew strings on their backs, with short daggers strapped to their legs.

But behind the rows of warriors, closer to the center of the great mass, she saw many of the horses carrying unarmed riders. Mothers, she realized. Children. This was too small for a scouting party, and a raiding party would never bring dependents. This was a conquest, an incursion.

They intended to invade Altaros. They intended to colonize it.

Indeed, these were Malifori riders in the heart of Altaros lands. And that could only mean that the Gates had fallen, that the Malifori had managed to break through those fabled walls. Yet, unexpectedly, that was not what she feared. These howling barbarians and bloodsoaked raiders were not what drove frigid fear through her veins. For these vicious, hard-hearted people to bring their children with them—no, she did not fear them.

She was afraid of what made them leave their homeland.