By the time Livia awoke, it was dusk. The first things her senses registered were the crackling of a fire, a softness supporting her weight, and a dim orange flickering. Orange… orange! She sprung up, nearly throwing herself out of bed, but a pair of hands held her back.

“Whoa! Easy there! It’s okay! It’s okay!” Pippy made sure Livia was caught by the bed when she toppled. “You crashed pretty hard. Nobody is really meant to take on the kind of mana flow that you did today.”

“The… hirquus?”

“Still dead. Still very dead. You really did a number on that thing!”

“Heh…” Livia managed a smile, though her face hurt. “It wasn’t just me. It was all of us. And we couldn’t have done it without the arietes.” She nearly jumped out of bed again at that thought. “Wait, where are they? Do they know we’ve used a traveller mote?”

“Relax!” Pippy insisted with long, tender syllables. “They left pretty much right after we won the battle. Pretty rude, actually; they didn’t even thank us.”

“Actually, they did.” Krey’s voice drew both Pippy’s and Livia’s eyes, and Emilie was also with him. “They expressed their gratefulness to me alone, it seems. However, they did make sure to mention all of us. I know the arietes… it makes sense they only spoke to me in the end.”

“Why?” Livia croaked.

“Because I’m one of the few mortals they trust. The Knights Berodyl are more than just an order of knights; we’re the inheritors of the arietes’ legacy. They might’ve protected Berodyl and her people when the hirquus threatened to destroy everything, but they hold very little love for us in their hearts.”

“That makes no sense,” Pippy said. “How can you help people you don’t care about?”

“It’s not that they don’t care, it’s that they must remain dispassionate. Becoming overly attached to anything would limit their capacity for safeguarding the realm. They must be able to quash any and all threats to Berodyl with zero hesitation, no matter who or what might be threatening it.”

“To be perfectly candid,” Emilie said, “I am glad to be out of their company. I cannot fully trust those who hold no passion, who hold no faith. They’re…”

“Inhuman?” Krey finished. “Yes… that’s what makes them so effective.”

Silence encroached for a moment, but Livia coughed it away. “Anyway… let’s just be glad we’ve rid the world of the hirquus for good. One less apocalyptic evil to worry about, right?”

Krey and Emilie both smiled, and spoke in unison. “Right.”

After resting, Livia’s mana was beginning to stabilise, allowing Emilie to heal her with white magic. She wasn’t quite fully recovered that night, but she was strong enough to join the others around the fire and eat some of the broth they’d prepared with what little vegetation they’d been able to gather. It was thin, tasteless… but warm. That was enough right now.

“Time for another campfire story, don’t you think?” Krey grinned. “We haven’t had one since way back in Calsa.”

“I am almost afraid to do it,” Emilie grimaced, “since the last one seemed to be an unwitting omen.”

“Then let’s pick one that couldn’t possibly come back to haunt us. What do you say?”

“Oooh!” Pippy chirped. “Yes! Yes, please! Tell us a story!”

“Yeah.” Livia managed to summon some energy into her voice. “Let’s have another history lesson.”

Emilie sighed, but with a smile. “Very well… very well. How about… the tale of the Tripody?”

“An excellent choice,” Krey answered.

“Alright,” Emilie concurred. “This story takes us back to a few decades before the arietes and the hirquus, still during the latter days of the first millennium…

“The Tripody have scorned the people of Berodyl more than any other of our world’s foes. Worst of all, they earned this infamy in a single act; no drawn out conflict, no burning or pillaging or slaughter… but the destruction of a single holy site… the holiest site of all. The Mystic Pharos, the homestead of the Decakon and the point of this world’s origin, was struck down in an instant by these three mysterious malefactors. None know of their true identities, though it is known that they were gods of even higher standing than the Decakon… from beyond the roiling between, from a world above all others. We only know of their existence thanks to the whispers of Berodyl’s own gods, whom we thought destroyed along with their towering abode. Much time after, the gods resurfaced and spoke to us - the hierophants - in our dreams… well, their dreams. This was a bit before my time.”

“Yes, I was about to say,” Krey mused, “you look quite youthful for a woman centuries old.”

“Oh, hush now!” Emilie tried to sound scornful, but couldn’t stop her face from expressing the opposite.

“The Mystic Pharos…” Krey hummed. “It has always struck me as an irony. Where the home of the gods once stood now stands Dunlark, a city of violent heretics.”

“It is a disturbing thought,” Emilie shivered. “And yet, Lady Carla, hierophant my younger, insists on staying there. Many letters have I written her, but every one I get back reads essentially the same. She believes there is hope to restore peace in Dunlark, return faith to its people. Her resolve is strong, but…”

“If you’re her elder,” Pippy wondered, “can’t you… I dunno, order her to leave?”

“I’m afraid not. In the sisterhood, the initiates take instruction from the high priestesses, but once one is anointed by the gods as a hierophant, only to the gods must they answer.”

“Emilie,” Livia mused, “you said she was your younger? How early on in a prospective hierophant’s life can they be chosen? I’ve got to talk to Phyrn about this. You can’t be any older than, what, twenty?”

“Twenty three. It was the goddess Phyrn, actually, who chose me… at the age of eight. I was the youngest in history… that was, at least, until Carla was chosen ten years ago— when she was six. She was chosen by D’Gora, god of blood.” Her lips twisted into a frown. “It is difficult to accept that the god is dead… that they’re all…”

Krey put a hand on her shoulder. “We still have Phyrn.”

“Yes; you still have me.”

Everyone looked up to see the goddess now sitting among them, simply suddenly there. Emilie slid off her seat and took to one knee. Krey and Livia were courteous and followed her lead. Pippy, in turn, took the hint and joined them.

“Rise, my chosen. Please, just sit with me and grant me your candour.” She leaned over and took Emilie’s hands, provoking a little sound from her. “Emilie, my dear, your hands!”

“It is nothing, goddess,” Emilie stammered. “The burns are nowhere near as bad as they would’ve been without your intervention.”

“It is true, I felt your pain when you suffered the hirquus’ blood… but I did not do this.”

“But if it wasn’t you, then…?”

“I do not know, my child… I do not know.” A yellow-green aura blossomed in Phyrn’s hands, and she waved them over Emilie’s. “However, I shall at least finish the job. I should have never allowed that horrid blood to tarnish you so; I shall restore your hands as if they had never burned in the first place.”

“Goddess…” Emilie’s frown was long gone, vanquished by a dreamy smile, misty eyes, and a blush in her cheeks that practically glowed. “Thank you for this blessing.”

When she was done, Phyrn sat back and cast her eyes upon Pippy Vieira. “I am glad to see you have joined the company of this party.”

Pippy saluted dramatically. “Of course! I couldn’t just let a fellow survivor pass me by!”

“I see.” Phyrn ran a hand through Pippy’s hair, raising giggles out of her. “I am sorry I failed you, my child. You must miss your home.”

“Hey! Uh… Phyrn… goddess… come on, don’t beat yourself up.” She held Phyrn’s hand, and Livia approached and took her other. “We all did our best.”

“I’m not sure which possibility disturbs me more, my child… that you speak true, or that you do not.”

“Phyrn,” Livia urged. “We’ll make it right. I know we will.”

Phyrn stood now, still holding Pippy’s and Livia’s hands. “This I vow with my life’s blood: I shall not fail you again. Any of you.”

“And we shall not fail you, Phyrn.” Krey bowed his head.

“We are your chosen,” Emilie stated proudly. “We will not disappoint you.”

“Of that I am certain,” Phyrn smiled.

The goddess left them to eat and sleep. The road ahead was long, and rife with trials. And while they walked their path, she would walk hers, and keep searching for the missing gods that hadn’t yet turned up dead. Only two now - other than herself - remained: Brightbrand, the god of brotherhood, and Ponima, the goddess of madness. She had to find them before Fyren did; she had to keep her promise to her chosen. For all their loyalty, she owed them that much.