With haze in his eyes, Cedric wandered out just as the sun rose behind the smog of Dreslon. The ogres had come out to haul their lumber and rock again, while the human men and women, migrants or not, took their berry baskets and longbows out into the forests surrounding the town.

Cedric glanced down at his orange-glowing amulet with a hint of nostalgia. His hand felt that sinister gemstone in his pocket again, and his smile faded.

He soon found his way back to the secluded alley which housed Greslock’s shop. Once he was in view, Serkukan grasped at his throat again, reeling him back to attention.

OVER THERE. THAT BODY.

Cedric winced. A red haze seemed to guide his eyes up across the road, toward a narrow crevice between the buildings. He groaned, "I had hoped that you were merely a nightmare. I guess I couldn’t be so lucky…"

Through the crowd, he could discern a figure laying prone in that nook. Even from this distance, he knew: a Hunter, his neat ponytail had been sliced open to make a mess of hair all over his head.

He weaseled his way through the crowd, and crouched beside the wet and bloody corpse. "This is the Hunter I met yesterday, isn’t it?"

CORRECT. ALBION'S PAWN. HE WAS TOLD TO FIND ME.

"Looks like he succeeded."

HE WAS SUPPOSED TO RELAY WORD OF MY EXISTENCE HERE TO LLESTREN’VATIS. ALGIRAK WAS NOT MEANT TO KNOW.

He ran his fingers along the black-stained skin of the man's neck. "But now he does."

WE’VE LOST OUR UPPER HAND.

Cedric snuck away the man's coinpurse before he stood and turned back toward the disinterested crowd. He began toward Greslock's shop again.

Forcing the heavy door open, a seemingly greater amount of dust than even the day before hovered into the air. Cedric scrunched his nose and wandered toward the counter. "Hey, Greslock–"

"Cedric!" he gasped, suddenly leaping out from his seat behind the counter. He shuffled over beside him and pulled the wooden blinds closed as quickly as he could.

"Smart. Though, they can't really see through all the dirt anyway."

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"First customers, and now friends. You spare none from your aggression."

Greslock growled. "A Hunter is dead, just up the road. Nobody's been in all morning."

"Had a run-in with the body just now. So what?" he shrugged.

Greslock hung his head and muttered something.

"What? What?"

"I'm praying, Cedric. It wouldn't be a bad idea for you, either."

"For a dead Hunter?"

"Not just the Hunter…" he squinted at Cedric.

"Woah, I didn't kill him!"

"Tell that to their white-robes! Those damn prophets and psychics!"

"I will!" he turned.

"No! You most certainly won't! They already know that you were the last one he spoke to, they scried it this morning. They'll be looking for you, whether you did it or not. Just get out of here for now, go somewhere else for a while! Maybe… maybe back south!"

"South!" Cedric grabbed his hair.

"Well, you can't go north!"

"Damn the Pit, I can! And I… I will. I… actually am."

“You… is this about–"

"It's not about that. Although I suppose it's… related. I can't go into too much detail right now, but I just came here… I guess to say goodbye."

Greslock shifted uneasily. "Don't get all sentimental. Just… if you're really going… why don't you make your way over to that table in the corner, I've got a few Whitefox coats that some migrants turned over for food."

"Greslock, I don't have any–"

"Nevermind that. I'll… shut my eyes. Just get it out of here… not like I can sell the damn things anyway…"

Cedric cracked a slight, genuine smile. "See, I knew you liked me."

"Come back in one piece, Cedric." he turned gloomy. "I've lost too many to the north, to Siln, to…"

Cedric nodded understanding. Then, as he turned around, he said, “You know a lot about the Hunters, Greslock. Are you…”

The ogre cleared his throat.

“Yeah. I thought so.”

“I’ll… do my damndest to clear your name, Cedric. For now, you’d really best get a move-on.”

The door squeaked open and shut again.

When he was alone again at last, Greslock rubbed the back of his neck. “The damn things I get myself into…”

When he finally departed from the town's bustling eastern gate, he wore the teal coat that Greslock had granted him. White tufts of fur popped out around his neck and wrists, stolen from whitefoxes, whose fur was known to magically store heat.

A horribly cold breeze struck him just as he left the town's vicinity. His amulet began to glow brighter, twisting the leylines around him to create heat.

The Relistar, tucked into his coat pocket, did some of the same, though it had no evident effect on the leylines. A quiet magic. A magic that should not exist.

"Let me ask you something," he muttered through shivers. His face hardened slightly.

YOU WOULD DARE TO QUESTION A GOD?

"God? You're dragons, aren't you? Elder dragons from… I don't remember what it's–Oh, what does it matter?" he shook his head. "I'm just trying to understand. First of all, why me? Of all people, you picked me?"

I DID NOT. AND I DOUBT LLESTREN’VATIS DID, EITHER.

He scowled. "So its random? Okay, fine. What about Algirak?"

WHAT ABOUT HIM?

"Is he… strong? I mean, the way you described it, it sounds as though we have no chance against him."

THEN IT SEEMS YOU HAVE SOME SENSE AFTER ALL. IT IS HOPELESS, INDEED, IF WE ARRIVE AS WE ARE NOW. DYOSIUS IS SURELY STRONGER THAN EVEN THE LAST TIME I FACED IT. ONCE HE BRANDISHES IT, OUR WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY CLOSES.

"Then what difference does it make? Why even bother?" he begged.

THAT’S WHAT OUR WHITE LIGHT IS FOR.

“White light? Is that the thing you named earlier… Llestren'vatis?”

The forest began to thicken and darken as he continued down the snow-coated path. The snow was still piling up, shimmering beautifully even as the trees blackened and twisted around him, and their crooked dead leaves blotted out the sun.

LLESTREN’VATIS. A WHITE DRAGON OF FROST AND TIME. HE IS OUR GREATEST WEAPON IN THIS WORLD. WITHOUT HIM, AND PERHAPS EVEN WITH HIM, WE STAND LITTLE TO NO CHANCE AGAINST ALGIRAK AND DYOSIUS.

“Dyosius… that’s the thing that you showed me, right? The gem?”

CORRECT. IT’S A DEVICE BUILT FROM THE CAPTURED ENERGY OF ALL OUR COUNCIL AND KIN, WITH EIGHT BINDINGS, REPRESENTING THE ELEMENTS THAT WERE MOST IMPORTANT TO ALGIRAK’S REIGN. HE CRAFTED IT FROM THE MAINTAINERS OF OUR REALM AND OUR OMNESTATUM TO STRIP AWAY OUR POWER, AND TO BEGIN HIS SLAUGHTER. IF IT REACHES ITS MAXIMUM POTENTIAL, IT COULD HARNESS THAT ENERGY INTO A BLEND THAT MATCHES EVRA’S OWN, AND REND THE UNIVERSE OPEN TO THE MULTIVERSE, WHERE HE WOULD CHALLENGE AZAFEL FOR THE OWNERSHIP OF HIS ‘KEY.’

“Mother, am I stupid to not understand a word of this?”

Serkukan said nothing.

Cedric sighed, his eyes beginning to water as the wind picked up, and as the minutes began to blur into hours.

Night had fallen by the time he reached the great, stone-walled city of Cromer. His face was tucked behind the tall fur collar of his coat, though it didn’t do much against the murderous winds.

He glanced upon the wood-walled homes that made up the villages along the stone walls. Not quite as shabby as the buildings that once made up Dreslon, they still did not represent wealth or prosperity. Cedric frowned upon them.

Their meager first line of defense. A distraction before they reach the stone walls, giving them enough time to get their knights and Hunters down before the siege can even begin. But by the time they reach those walls, the villages will be razed to the ground. How noble of the 'courageous' Hunters to put themselves first.

A tremble ran through him, forcing a gasp through his throat. “Caloria’s breath, I’m going to freeze to death… Even with both of you helping…”

He turned his eyes up and squinted at the tall stone walls of Cromer. Blue and gold banisters draped down from the battlements across the scattered guardtowers. He sighed and shivered, shifting uncomfortably. Do I dare? Would they even let me in? ...Would I even want them to?

He slowly began to approach the gate, trudging through the thick, ankle-deep snow as though it might bring him to his knees. The warm fire of a torch soon became visible against the wide steel portcullis covering the city’s entrance, roped up to an unseen knight or servant in the chamber above. Tips of arrows peeked out the windows at him.

“Who’s sent you?” the knight groaned. He wore a set of steel armor, with a flat and faceless helmet that indicated his lower status. Two small eyes peered out at him from two expressionless holes upon the front.

“M-myself. I’m… traveling.” his voice shook with a chill.

The knight hesitated. “Migrants have to wait until the morning to come in.”

“Do I look like a…" he glanced at his own coat. "Damn. I don't have citizenship, but–"

“Then get lost. I don't have time to waste on this..."

Cedric scoffed, about to add a sarcastic remark, then paused as a whisper seeped into his mind.

“Maybe this will work instead?” he said as he drew forth his red crystal.

The knight flinched before the crystal overpowered his mind. He stood for a long moment without a word, then finally declared, “Just a moment.”

With a wave to the windows above, the gate finally began to move.

Cedric slid the crystal back into his chestpiece. “I appreciate it.”

With the gate open, he was free to wander the sleepy streets of the quiet city.

And the quiet, indeed, was pervasive. There were no figures amongst the cobbled streets, no lights in the windows of the stone homes; not even clouds of smoke from lit chimneys appeared in the starry sky.

He cleared his throat after a while of wandering, “How did you do that, exactly?”

DO WHAT?

“That trick on the guard? Matter of fact, until recently you only worked by making promises, I thought.”

MY POWER GROWS WITH EACH PASSING MOMENT, EACH DROPLET OF BLOOD I GRASP FROM THE LIVING.

“I thought you were immortal, all-powerful beings?”

EVEN GODS ARE BOUND BY THE RULES OF THE REALITY THEY CLASH IN.

“Then, what, I would have boundless power in your reality, as well?”

IF YOU COULD GRASP OUR LEYLINES. WE OPERATE ON AN IDENTICAL PRINCIPAL, WITHOUT RELYING ON EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE AS YOUR MAGIC DOES.

BUT THERE ARE MANY DOWNSIDES FOR A HUMAN WHO MAY DESIRE TO LIVE IN OUR PLANE.

“Such as?”

ENOUGH QUESTIONS.

He scowled, tucking his face back beneath his collar as he wandered into the city’s square. A frozen well sat before the grandiose white and gold building that was surely the city hall, with carved pillars and marble statues of lifelike men and women to hold up its curving roof. The lights were out, as they were in the rest of the town. Colored banners that were once strung up over the roads and paths had fallen into the dirt and into the well.

“It’s a festival, then. Banners like that: red, gold, green… Some kind of elven holiday…”

Serkukan did not reply.

His eyes traced a statue of Kasian, one that wore a black, expressionless mask and a dark jacket inlaid upon his tall, slender marble figure. Nobody knew if it was accurate. But that statue was all they knew of him.

Neither of them spoke while he admired the statue. When he turned away, Serkukan continued, to Cedric’s surprise.

YOU’VE BEEN HERE BEFORE.

“I have.”

THEN STOP WASTING TIME. THERE IS SOMEWHERE YOU CAN REST, WITH THE SIGIL OF THE SWORDS–

“No. Not there. And you already know why.” he scowled.

It was quiet again as he trailed down the path through the stone homes with wooden panels keeping their windows shut from the draft. And not much further, a torch mounted upon a tavern wall sated his curiosity, and he discovered a not-so-impressive wooden sign labeled Royal Knight, Tavern & Inn.

He pushed through the gentle door and immediately, a warm, welcoming light swamped his body in heat.

And, indeed, it seemed that some population of the city yet lived. A group of Hunters mingled with a group of steel-plated knights, clacking their mugs together with tankards and making loud celebrations.

He softly exhaled relief and made his way to the bar.

“What’ll it be?” a gruff-looking man with greyish skin and a dark beard greeted him.

“Something warm. And cheap.” he crossed his arms and placed his chin atop them.

The man nodded and turned away, quickly returning with a tankard.

“Three swords.”

He emptied his stolen coin purse onto the counter. Three swords rolled out.

Cedric raised his tankard with a sarcastic murmur, “To Hunters.”

“To Hunters.” the barkeep replied, moving down the bar.

Cedric took a hearty swig from the tankard. “Guess I won't have anything to eat...”

“Don’t worry friend, it’s on me.” a man threw his arm around Cedric’s shoulder, pulling him close enough to smell his ale-soaked breath.

Cedric scanned the man to assure that he was merely a drunk knight. “Thanks. I’ll owe you one. Unless you accept tongues.”

The man missed his aside, continuing to slur his words, “Don’t worry about it. I'm sure you traveled a long way, and didn't hear about the curfew, neither.”

Cedric cocked his head, admiring the copper-colored gambeson upon the freckled man’s muscular body. He raised his tankard to his lips, “Suppose not.”

"Our command is scared of those dragons." he grinned. "A couple of oversized birds, I'll bet."

Cedric lowered his head into his drink. The warmth from the hearth seemed to grow hotter as the ale worked its magic. “What day is it?”

“T… Twelvth… Twentieth… Twentieth of Hammerache!”

“Is it a holiday? I couldn't help but notice the tapestries outside.”

“Ahh, I could tell you weren’t from around here!” he smirked, nudging Cedric. “Yllvismin. Or Yilvisim. No, no, I had it right the first time. It’s elvish. I think. You’d have to ask one of 'em to translate it, but we celebrate it monthly. Suppose it's way of repaying our people for being so supportive. Give ‘em a bit of joy in times of this Sylvet piss.”

"Sounds like you bastardized the actual holiday…”

The knight misunderstood again, “Now you’re getting it! Barkeep, another round over here!”

The barkeep replaced Cedric's empty tankard just as quickly as he had placed it down, and Cedric raised it once again.

“So what brings you to Cromer?” the knight spoke between burps, “It’s the women, right? Something about the ones in armor…”

“I’m just passing through.” Cedric cut him off.

“Not one for conversation, huh? Just let me know if I’m bothering you, I’ll be right out of here.”

“Actually, I—”

“Tor.” came a sudden command from the door. They both turned to face a woman in traditional casvian garb: a blue dress that only covered one side of a woman’s armor, revealing the steel plate underneath on the opposite side. The short black hair over her tan forehead and squared face bounced up and down as she approached them.

“See what I mean?” he winked at Cedric.

“You’re supposed to be on duty at the keep.”

“Well, you see, I can explain–”

Her face showed no sign of interest.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” he stood. “Sorry, friend, we’ll have to resume this conversation another time. Duty calls.”

Cedric half-heartedly waved goodbye as they quickly evacuated the tavern. He turned back and smirked at the empty counter before him. That bastard never bought my food.

With another trick of the Relistar, he found himself well fed and made his way up the stairs and into one of the many rooms. It was a much nicer place than Kilren's, with cerulean walls and twelve golden tapestries representing the twelve sigils of Kasian's oligarchy.

Cedric tossed down his satchel and stripped his gear again, placing his sword beside the bed with the hilt pointed up at him. "I'm not going to get attacked again, am I?"

I’LL BE WATCHING.

"Good enough. If the Hunters are still looking for me… well, it’s not like I’m some kind of fugitive." he dropped onto the wide blue bed in the center of the room. The airy mattress almost seemed to suck him in, and within seconds, he was fast asleep.

The Relistar began to glow again from within his discarded jacket as the night continued to crawl by.

A strike of lightning rocked a shabby tavern a few miles away. A rainslick creature crawled in; another black robe to match the shady darkness that had swept Kylinstrom through the storm that night.

"Not again…" Kilren reached for his axe handle, tucked away behind the counter.

But it was no creature at all.

He sat at the counter and knocked twice. Kilren placed a full tankard down before him.

"Thank you." he slid a couple bronze coins to the ogre.

"Not planning on heading out again, are ya?"

"Not until that storm clears. Lightning through a snowstorm. What a disaster…"

"As if tonight wasn't bad enough."

The man cocked his head with interest.

"Ah, it's nothing worth mentioning now…"

He sniffed, taking a swig from his tankard.

The door launched open again, and another figure stumbled through.

Kilren went to his axe again on impulse, then froze. It was a man, this time. Or, at least, an elf. Wearing the same dark black leather that most scavengers were prone to wearing.

Except this scavenger had lost his mouth.

The robed man leapt up when he heard the whimpering, and rushed to the man's aid. "By Caloria, what ails you?"

Kilren gaped, and the other patrons would have too, were any still there at that late hour.

The elf whimpered and growled, voiceless without teeth or a tongue. He gestured something once, and again, but they didn't understand.

The robed man turned to Kilren, finally urging him out from behind his counter. "Alright, alright, let's see what we can do…"

With Kilren distracted, the robed man stepped back, stuck his hand behind the counter, and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the ogre's axe. He gave it a hefty swing.

Kilren gave a roar when the dented blade tore into his shoulder. The mouthless elf whimpered as blood squirted across his face.

The man tugged the axe free. With a careful windup, he swung for the thing's neck.

And he hit his mark.

Kilren hit the floor like a log, once again spraying a shocking amount of dark blood.

The elf screamed silently, stumbling backward.

"Oh, come on…" he lifted the axe again, sweeping the blunt end into the elf's 'mouth.'

An awful pain rippled through his face as bone shattered and fresh skin ripped, dripping more blood across the already stained floor.

He shrieked first, then attempted to collect himself, twitching and convulsing with fear and pain. "Th-th-the-t-th-th…"

"Clearly all the excitement has made you develop a stutter, Ilvas." he clutched him by the cheeks, letting the blood drool down his hands. "What happened?"

"Th-the the Relistar!" he gasped, and a sharp torrent of magic stampeded through him. A red glow shone from his eyes. The killing blow of a broken promise.

The robed man stuck his fingers into the air between them, hoping to grasp some of the invisible magic emanating from him.

But it was gone, and Ilvas became relaxed. Dead.

"Shit. The Relistar?" he dropped the axe in the pools of blood at his feet. "Things are finally getting interesting…"

The man chuckled as he rounded the counter, pulling up his sleeves to reveal intricate tattoos up both of his pale arms. He made a complex gesture, and a purple gateway opened in the hearth. A foreign, inhuman language comprised of clicks and hisses escaped his breath. "Al Jir, Anack-Amin,"

A tightness suddenly engulfed his throat. He stumbled back, a dark hand wrestling him up against the counter.

"What insolence, calling on me as though you're worthy to command me?"

The man reached up and grasped his purple amulet. The hand recoiled with a growl.

"Damn your stolen artefacts." a voice growled onto the sounds of stomping boots outside.

"Bastard. Had you not touched the Omnestatum–"

"Shh!" he hissed upon the wind.

The man's face was serious. "The Relistar is back."

"Oh," the wooden walls cackled as though they were breaking. "Oh, it certainly is."

He thought for a moment. "Then why are you here? I did not summon you, demon, I summoned a fragment of your magicks–" his eyes widened. "Oh, I see. So you are but a fragment."

"It is shortsighted to misunderstand my reasoning for scarring myself so. The Omnestatun was fantastic, only as a binding for my ultimate device."

"You're decrepit and weak…"

"And it's perfect," his figure finally manifested, his bandaged arms extended by his sides. "My horror, manifested perfectly in this husk of a body. But this weakness is skin deep… do well not to forget that, or you might meet your own end before the universe does."

"I know that you can't kill me."

"Oh?"

He shut his eyes to concentrate. "Ry kae–"

"SILENCE!"

Blue lights flared through the windows of the inn.

The man gasped, accidentally releasing the spell, and closing his communion with Algirak.

"So long, Jirtu. I'll be seeing you very soon…"

He took a moment to breathe once the room was dark again. "Algirak,"

The gateway was already closed, as far as he could tell, but he thought he might warn him anyway:

His finger poked his necklace, "This is not the last piece of Grivonym."

The door to the room burst open. Cedric leapt out of the bed as though he were expecting it, drawing his blade in a single fluid motion.

Three helmeted Hunters entered, weapons drawn. Too dark to see, he closed his eyes to let Serkukan guide him.

ONE TO THE LEFT.

He swept his sword, slicing clean through the metal bracers that stuck together as if to wield a greatsword. And, judging by the loud clattering of the gauntlets and weapon hitting the ground, his guess was exactly right.

A FOOT FURTHER, TOWARD YOUR RIGHT.

Cedric gave a swift horizontal slash, smashing a cruel dent into the side of a knight's armor, knocking him to the ground.

AND–

"The doorway," he answered, flipping his sword so he was grasping it by the blade, and smashing the pommel into the knight's domed helmet. A gaping hole blasted through it, spilling the contents of his head upon the floor.

Cedric opened his eyes, briefly glanced around the room, and left with one quick grasp for his Relistar.

LEAVING YOUR BELONGINGS?

“I had an idea about that. I’ll tell you later.”

The screams of pain from the room had attracted three more guards into the hallway, charging at him as he rushed for the window.

WHERE ARE WE GOING?

He leapt out through a shattering of glass.

The rain gently pattered across the dark blue tiles of the roof that he clumsily fell onto. He raised the hood of his dark shirt. Without his armor, he was vulnerable. "I'm not going to let them corner us."

WE COULD KILL THEM.

"We could."

YOU'RE HOLDING BACK.

"I am." he pulled his hood lower as the blue lights of pursuing Hunter lanterns began to grow brighter. He hastily crossed toward the edge of the roof and dropped himself down onto a stone balcony below. He dropped once again, carefully landing in a brown puddle surrounded by rotten, stinking food in one of the city's many rancid alleyways.

A sharp pain ached in the back of Cedric's mind.

DO NOT WASTE MY TIME.

"Aren't you trying to save lives by killing Algirak"

THE POINT IS TO DESTROY HIM. NOT TO PROTECT YOUR PETTY WORLD.

"How noble." Cedric muttered, glancing out into the somber streets of the empty city. "And somehow you end up wasting my time for your pointless goal…"

I WOULDN'T NEED YOU IF HE HADN'T DECEIVED US IN THE FIRST PLACE, FORCING US TO DESTROY THE OMNESTATUM.

Cedric scratched the back of his head with a sigh. "Let's just get out of here. You can tell me more riddles later… not that I'll ever understand…"

He peeked out around the corner. "It's midnight. Or close to it.

The gloomy streets of Cromer had become more packed with knights and Hunters than when he had arrived. Lightning crackled across the northern sky, far off in the distance. The thunderous boom made him twitch.

"What's going on, exactly? How have I stirred up this much attention?"

YOU WERE NOT CAREFUL ENOUGH. AND, PERHAPS, SOMEONE HAS THEIR EYES ON US.

Algirak?

HE WOULD NOT STOOP SO LOW. SOMEONE ELSE IS TRYING TO FORCE YOUR HAND.

"Someone with connections we should be worried about…"

He squeezed down a series of alleyways, behind closed shops and empty wagons, always avoiding the burning blue firelights that played across the moon-soaked stone buildings from time to time. And by some kind of luck, the augmented golden eyes of Hunters never caught him either.

He leapt back against a wall as another squad of about six Hunters passed by. This place is swarming…

WE COULD FIX THAT.

Cedric scoffed, "You want us to fight, what, there must be thousands of knights and hundreds of Hunters here right now? Just me and you?"

GRANT ME THE REINS. I WILL SHOW YOU THE POWER OF MY ILK.

"We're not…" his voice quieted as another group passed. "We're not killing anybody."

SOONER OR LATER THAT CHOICE WILL NOT BE LEFT TO YOU.

His hand began to burn. He shook the sensation away. "The gate's just up ahead. Barely five minutes…"

Serkukan growled.

"You damn dragons can't keep your heads on, can you?"

OUR EVERY SECOND COUNTS.

He groaned, "Can’t you just use your reality magic to get us out of here?"

I’D MUCH PREFER TO SPILL THEIR BLOOD.

"You damn…"

A blue light caught him, cast out by a group of dark shadows blocking the path toward the northern gate.

Cedric muttered a curse under his breath, turning away. Serkukan grasped his body in place. His arms immediately became frigid.

NO MORE RUNNING. WE FIGHT.

"No–" he was muted by the manifestation of a red crystalline helmet over his head. His body instantaneously covered itself in Serkukan's crimson armor before he could protest, and he found himself lowered into a pugilistic combat stance.

The armor flared up in burning vibrancy. He lunged forward as he drew his blade. It rammed easily through a Hunter's silver chestplate.

"Dragon!" the Hunter beside him shouted, stumbling back. His golden eyes glistened for only a second before his head came free by some magic force, spinning toward the ground.

"Dragon?" a knight asked in confusion just a moment before his own body came apart in a horrifying display of gore.

The rest of the pack exclaimed in terror before their own bodies twisted and shattered.

No! Stop, stop this!

Serkukan leapt past the fallen group and onto the next, flaunting his impressive strength and agility as he cut them down with razor-sharp claws all the same.

THEY'LL BE SWARMING US MOMENTARILY.

He stuck his claws out and leaned back to let loose a hoarse roar, like a wounded, desperate animal. The approaching knights shuddered and faltered.

He rushed and spun himself through the air. The blood that splattered across his glistening form blended into his suit, further fueling his strength.

No… No, STOP THIS!

But it continued on. And Cedric watched in agony as his hands, his body, dug claws and knives into the hearts of the men. And the horror in his mind continued to flourish.

"Pull back!" a helmeted knight shouted into the monsoon from a ways back, hidden behind a trader's wagon. Another knight reached Serkukan too late to hear. A blood-slick claw cut him down.

A red glow stood statuesque amidst the growing storm. Bodies littered the ground around him.

"How many has he taken?" the commander asked again, shifting so that the golden ornaments on his pauldrons dangled visibly.

"At least thirty knights. Lambert counted twenty-six Hunters so far, not including those already attended to by healing mages." the caramel-skinned knight in casvian dress stepped up to his side.

"What about our injured?"

"Our medics are on them."

"They're not pulling back. Why aren't they pulling back?"

"Knights are stubborn."

"HEY!" he shouted as another pack of Knights marched out to suffer the same fate. "Five more to the count already…"

He rose slightly from their position, clutching his sheathed claymore in his left hand.

"You're not thinking of fighting?"

"Only thinking. Holy Caloria, what manner of daemon is this?"

A golden-eyed man with pale skin and long, silvery hair approached from behind. "A dragon."

The knight pulled his helmet free to stroke the bushy brown mustaches that stood too high and too wide upon his rounded face. "Lambert,"

"Salvatore. It's time you routed your knights away. This matter is far greater of an issue than our squabbling."

"I concur, but they've forgotten themselves. Did you say a dragon? Not like any I've ever seen…"

He hesitated. "That's because you've never seen a dragon. Not an Etherian dragon."

The woman turned to him. "Etherian?"

"If you're so sure of your own army, why haven't they killed the bastard?" Salvatore huffed.

"They can't. They stopped attacking about as soon as my mages could detect such a being. We're here for… Cedric Castelbre, isn't it?"

"Ehm…" he looked away and could only recall, most recently, being too drunk to stand.

Lambert wandered past their cart and inspected the demon for a long moment.

"Well? What do you see with those special eyes of yours?"

"What's Castelbre's warrant about?"

"Uhh…" Salvatore started.

The woman interjected, "Murder of a Hunter and a few strange deaths surrounding him, though they're unusual enough that it's hard to say he personally murdered them. It's suspected he's traveling with a pack."

"Examples, please."

Salvatore coughed sputum into a fist, watching more knights charge to slaughter.

"Most recently there was a group out in Siln who had their mouths fused shut, and a Hunter dead with a hole in his chest… we didn't have much of a file on him, but what we did have lacked any mention of magical affinity."

"How did you confirm his involvement?"

"He was nearby the scene of the Hunter's murder just moments before it happened, and our psychics confirmed contact with the other victims. Not to mention…" she procured a document, and held it out toward him.

Lambert wandered back and took it. "Ah. Sylvet. So that explains the interest. Very well, the Hunters will take it from here."

"You can't be serious. My men are still dying out there, and–" Salvatore threw himself in front of Lambert.

"And it's their own damn fault. Look at the demon's movements. He's not attacking anybody anymore. He's leaving, don't you see?"

"So you'll let this pox fall upon another part of Kylinstrom? You'll let this scourge continue on?"

"There's nothing we can do, Salvatore. We've got a group of Hunters on the way from Azar'kara already, and a few hoping to head him off near Freya'kara. It's a fool's game to intervene before they’re on site."

Salvatore scowled hard.

"Go home. Or to your headquarters, your hall, your barracks. Recount their deaths and hold whatever funerals you'd like. Before tomorrow night, Castelbre, or this Etherian, or whoever is causing this offence will be made to feel the consequences."

Salvatore spat at the ground between them and wandered off.

Lambert attempted to straighten his black and gold uniform, wrinkled by the rain. "Damn knights and their politics…"

The woman cast a curious glance at him then turned back to the demon, nearing the gates of the city.

YOU’RE LEAVING A BACKDOOR TO ALGIRAK WHEN YOU DO THAT.

He snapped awake. A broken sword dangled from his rain slick crimson gauntlet. Bodies lay scattered atop the cobbles of the streets. Blood pooled and oozed through the cracks.

“Did I do this?” his voice wavered.

I DID THIS. FOCUS. IF YOU PANIC, ALGIRAK WILL ENTER YOUR MIND AND DESTROY US.

He sucked in his breath. The gate was not much further. Just a few steps. He took the first one. Then one more. And then…

“Stop.” a young man’s voice rasped. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

He glanced back. It’s that knight… Tor? His helmet was shattered open and dented across the top. His armor wore similar dents and wide gashes filled with blood.

That’s the man we met at the tavern.

Serkukan stopped walking.

Stop it. Don’t kill him. We’re leaving.

It was quiet in his mind for that moment alone. The only moment when Serkukan would allow him to take another step of his own volition. The last moment that Cedric would be in control.

LET ME MAKE THIS PERFECTLY CLEAR.

“Wait—"

WE ARE NOT EQUALS.

And then he knew it would never be quiet again, as Serkukan spun back around and launched the broken sword like a javelin, piercing through Tor’s head and splitting the steel like splinters of wood.

“NO!”

His vision blurred and twisted. His mind dispelled reality and fell away into itself.

He collapsed into a shallow dirt valley. His fingers brushed a gentle creek, letting the cool water soothe his wounds.

A dark figure stood above him. A silhouette. Rog.

Cedric’s fingers wrapped tightly around a fist-sized rock as Rog pulled him up by the collar.

“You think this is… ” Rog’s voice blurred and warped. Rog spat at him.

Cedric found that he had begun to laugh without realizing.

The silhouette dropped him onto his back. Cedric looked up around the warriors surrounding the valley, shadows of Hunters and Sylvet beneath the trees, as well as the cultless bandits, all fighting amongst themselves. Fighting over the besieged Castle Nelreign.

He looked to the rock in his hand.

“Planning to strike me with that? Kill me with a rock?” Rog drew his black-hilted scimitar. His voice was clear.

But it was no rock at all. It was a red gemstone. Glowing, shimmering in the light. Whispering to him, a voice breaching his mind.

GIVE ME THE COMMAND.

He muttered something.

Rog raised his scimitar up with the blade aimed for Cedric’s gut. “If those are your last words, I wouldn’t waste them in a mumble.”

“Kill them. Kill them all.”

Rog dropped his sword.

“Kill them, DO IT NOW!”

And the Relistar complied…

"You're sure about this, Lambert?" she asked.

"Oh, yes." he replied. "This isn't something we could handle. If he's what we believe him to be, there's nothing even our numbers can do. And if Akvum is right, I fear that he may be on his way to prevent an even bigger danger."

Her eyes lingered on Cedric and then the broken Tor. Her eyes became watery. "I don't understand it. Any of it."

He turned towards her with a gentle smile beneath his shimmering eyes, "Then perhaps it's a good opportunity to begin to."