This was the first time I had channelled the divine portion of my font. It was a sensation beyond what I could have imagined, a high that made me feel night invincible. I hadn’t planned to destroy the zombie guards with my initial blast, just break through the wards. But, as I summoned my holy power, I knew, instinctively, that I could do both, easily. The undead were an anathema in the eyes of the divine, raised without the blessing of a deity. Such beings could not bear the brunt of divine magic - its effects were magnified tenfold. And I just knew this.

This was what it meant to be a divine channeller. This power, the power of the gods, was a part of my very being, mine to command.

I reeled myself back in from my power trip as I heard Jaric speak. “You’re a divine channeller,” he said, disbelief evident in his tone.

I nodded. “That I am.”

He laughed, then, a reaction outside my expectations. It was an uproarious laughter, as if the man had just heard the funniest joke of his life. I was taken aback, unsure how to react to his reaction. “Oh, fate, you fickle, magnificent bitch,” he said, finally calming himself down. “Runes,” he continued, “My offer still stands, though I’ll add something further to it. Should you so desire, I will be your shield for as long as you have need of me.”

Still trying to gain my bearings around this man, I asked, “Alright, but can I ask why the sudden offer?”

“Suffice it to say that your very existence uplifts my spirits. A divine channeller after all these years! Who is your patron deity, if I might be so bold?”

Well. Hmmm. I guess it’s not like withholding that information would gain me anything. Regardless of who made me a divine channeller, I would be hunted by the other cults and killed on sight. “Auriel.”

“Ah, so the wind goddess is playing fast and loose with the rules? It suits her far better than the blind obedience she’s had of late. So? Will you take me up on my offer?”

It was odd, but Jaric spoke of the gods with a familiarity that spoke of a past relationship. Though from his reaction at my god-cursed existence, I doubted the remains of that relationship resembled anything even remotely cordial. I considered his deal. As far as adventuring goes, having a dutiful ally that could engage in melee to keep foes away from me was an offer too good to refuse. Assuming his sincerity - damn it, what the hell happened to my cynicism around these two?!? - I could not come up with any reason to turn down his unsolicited addition to the deal.

I nodded in agreement, and the big man-in-armor clapped, “Magnificent! Well, then let’s get to escaping this necromancer, shall we?”

“Indeed,” I said, moving forwards and summoning my magic to destroy the lock on his cage. But before I could act, Jaric did something that put my jaw on the floor. He reached through the bars of his cage, gauntleted arm reaching out halfway past his forearm, grabbed the large, iron lock, and squeezed. There was a grating squeal as his hand closed into a fist, then he let go, and the crumpled, useless lock fell to the floor with a clatter, his cage door slowly swinging ajar.

He stepped out of the cage, standing tall in front of me. Seeing my disbelief, the big man shrugged, red eyes aglow with mischief, “The cage could never hold me, but I never could have escaped the necromancer’s minions alone. With you here, though, we stand a real chance.”

Jaric then looked at the other dungeon occupant's cell, saying, “You’re being uncharacteristically silent, bard.”

His sentence drew my attention back to Garrick. Gone was the awestruck expression, replaced instead by a contemplative look. “Hmm?” he said, startled back into the present by Jaric’s words. “Oh, sorry, I was just thinking of a name.”

“A name?” I asked.

“Why, of course! Every good adventuring party must have a name. The good ones go down in legend! Take the Cloaks, for instance. They’re more well known than the Four Major Guilds! Practically a household name!

“And this,” he gestured to those present, “Is the beginning of the next legendary party. As such, we need a suitable name. It has to be a name that references your divinity, but doesn’t give it away. One such that, when the world knows your story, the name will fit, but won’t cause us undo attention until that day comes.”

I could only stare at Garrick in disbelief. He cocked an eyebrow at my expression. “What? You don’t think this is the beginning of a legend? Runes, you’re the first divine channeller in centuries! I don’t yet know how this tale ends, but I know it will go down in history. And as a devout follower of Liturnia, goddess of stories, it is my pleasure - nay, my duty to chronicle your tale.”

My eyes narrowed, “I thought you said you weren’t a worshipper.”

“I lied. It’s a bardic skill. But that doesn’t make me your enemy, Runes-the-nameless. Liturnia chooses no side, nor does her flock. We simply seek to collect and spread the stories of the world. My vow still stands, unaltered, though I would like to add a rider clause as our iron-bending friend has. Though I am no shield, I am no stranger to a blade, and if you’ll have me I’ll be at your side, an ally till the end.”

I looked to Jaric, “Is all that true about Liturnia?”

Jaric sighed, and I could almost hear the eye-roll as he said, “She is known amongst the devout as the Ultimate Observer. Some joke that the world could end and still she would not act. The bard speaks true about his faith, though his devotion might still be called into question.”

It was now my turn to look contemplative as I considered the potential third member of our new party. Honestly, I should have said no right away. Garrick was manipulative, unpredictable, and a self-admitted liar. But… Damn it, if this sudden bout of trust wasn’t divine intervention, I don’t know what the hell else could explain it.

I took a deep breath, then sighed. “Alright, welcome to the team. Now, are you coming out of that cage or do I need to blow the hinges off?”

“Why, whatever could you mean, new best friend? I’ve not the strength of our towering ally, and you’ve yet to unlock my cage.”

I gave him a good, long stare.

Garrick deadpanned.

Then, he grinned. “Ah, look, he’s learning!” he exclaimed, pushing open the door to his cage effortlessly. “There may be hope for us yet, Jaric! Oh, and I’ve just thought of the most perfect name!” The man stopped in front of us, his facial expression begging us to ask the question.

I rolled my eyes and glanced at Jaric. As one, we turned and walked out the door.

“Ah, wait! Don’t you want to hear the name! It’s fantastic, I swear! One might even call it legen-”

“Shut up, bard."