A man leaves no one behind. Leor had heard that garbled adage too many times to count, but it was the last hearing he remembered most clearly.

It was the first time the old man allowed Leor to share a drink with him, and Leor saw firsthand how much the drunkard truly drank. After a barrel of ale, his mentor made a fool of himself by seducing a married woman in front of her husband who was later revealed to be the owner, and was then thrown out into the rain. Leor was just a boy, lugging around a piss-drunk fool twice his size; it must have been quite a spectacle to those he passed, he imagined.

The old fool always reeked, but the mix of mud, piss, and liquor caused a special storm to rage in his belly. But despite the cloudy eyes and incoherent ramblings, the old man said his proverb, ruffled Leor’s hair, and added in a clear, somber voice, “You’ve become a fine man.” Leor did not recall much after that, but he remembered his mouth hurting from smiling.

The next morning his mentor had left.

He could only laugh at how foolish of a boy he was. I will not do the same, Leor thought as he had Hendrick’s hefty arm slung around his shoulder, supporting the side where the giant now wobbled.

The flow of waste returned, slopping downstream as they were finally out of the sludge. By some miracle, the stone path was, for the most part, intact with a few jumpable gaps between. Yui dismounted the edgewolf and gave it a well-deserved rub down; the edgewolf wagged its tail indiscriminately. Once the petting finished, Yoru returned to Leor’s side. Though it kept a further distance and shied away when Leor tried a head pat. It must have been the smell. His clothes had been bleached with the crimson sewage after all.

He studied the others and found they were dry and scentless, save for their boots. Somehow the rush of waste did not affect them. But how? He pondered, but in the end, he shrugged it off as luck.

Meager waterfalls of blood and excrement spluttered from drains that circled the mold-and-fungi covered stone into the underground lake of filth. High above dangled jagged rocks like a forest of pointed fingers, where an upside-down everfrost glacier jutted from the center. The old kingdom called it the Trident of Tears, Luella said. A fitting name, he agreed as he watched droplets crawling down the faces of the three forked peaks.

The way around was winding and long, the cavern’s perimeter haloed by a rocky path that rose a man’s height above the lake. They had to walk it in its entirety to reach the lift on the opposite side of the hollow. It was spacious enough for a small settlement, Leor thought.

“Thank the old inhabitants they had the foresight to build a canopy along the path,” Alden said as they passed beneath a waterfall and heard the stream of waste splash against the stone roof.

Expecting a lecture, Leor glanced at the scholar but found her kneeling over a chunk of black stone. Her round, youthful eyes sharpened with surprising maturity and focus. She beamed her licht lamp over the black rock, tapping it and running her slender finger along the bumpy surface.

“What are you doing?” Leor asked once he realized the others had gone ahead.

“Sir Leor, you are a man well-traveled, I presume,” she said without taking her eyes off her study. “This rock. . . have you seen its kind before?”

Sighing internally, he took an aloof glance. “Looks like coal to me.” Though its random, sinuous shape was odd, he admitted to himself.

“Yes, that was my thought as well, but it feels. . . hollow yet firm.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not quite sure how to explain it. It isn’t a rock, I know that for certain. Take a look there.”

Leor followed her finger and saw more of the false rock sparsely lining the walls like random strokes of black paint. “And what of it?” He said, snorting. “What use would this bring to me? They are nothing more than stones.”

Luella unsheathed a dagger from her satchel and chipped a shard, then sealed it within a vial. “Oh, they are much more than simple rocks, sir Leor. They are the world’s oldest and truest books. Mankind’s tale is written in the deepest caverns, lost and forgotten when our ancestors claimed the overworld as their own. There is a plethora of knowledge waiting for us to uncover.”

Here we go.

“Like the nicks on a sword’s edge and the scars on your body, all blemishes in the earth tell a story. Stones and time tell no lies, sir Leor”

“As you say,” Leor sighed when he noticed the solar dial was edging closer to dark purple. The history of rocks did not interest him. He shifted Hendrick to his other shoulder and pulled her along.

The lift was a glossy, pale stone stage, large enough to accommodate a dozen bodies at once; the insignia of the Licht Order engraved onto its surface with a clear gem, the size of a dinner plate, at the heart. And that was it. Leor saw it lacked any sort of chain or rope to hoist them higher. A trap? No, it was too conspicuous to be one. . . right? He stepped onto it with careful feet.

Emilia shoved past him and stepped on the center gem. The carvings glowed bright and the lift rumbled, grinding stone against stone, before floating up at a steady pace. “Never been on an astral lift before?” she snickered. The silent dragonslayer beside her and Alden grunted a hoarse chuckle. It was the first sound Leor had heard him make — he had thought that one was mute —and it was the first time he had heard his name.

“Menno, Emilia. Mind your manners.” Alden sighed. The Pontiff was too kind to tell his guards off in a harsher tone, but Leor saw his patience was waning.

“It is made of stone that has been said to have fallen from the heavens,” Luella said, noticing Leor’s wandering eyes. “The same kind Lichtwerth was built on.”

It was a dreadful ride to the top. The silence between the party was as thin as sewing thread, plucked easily with every small breath and murmur. He felt daggered stares from behind. He need not look to tell who it came from. The lift could not have seemed slower. Though, it gave Leor time to rest his burning shoulders; he had settled Hendrick onto the floor. The giant thanked him for his service and grinned as if he weren’t missing a leg.

Sunlight bathed them when the lift emerged into an oversized birdcage. The corroded iron bars creaked open, the sound bounced around the galleria, much too loud for the silent entrance Leor preferred. The party strode down the hall to the sole exit at the end of a long stretch, glass crunching beneath their boots. The croak of crows could be heard through the shattered roof, tarnished gold banners of the Licht Order hung across the room and fluttered like soiled breeches.

Leor savored a long breath; air never tasted so delicious. Still, he saw the others avoiding him like a plague for reasons much too obvious. He hoped to find a source of water soon to rid his clothes of the rank.

“Who goes there?” A voice called out, gargled and pained, when the iron doors scraped open. A sound too familiar: the final breaths of a dying man. Seated against the bridge railing and surrounded by similarly dressed corpses, a knight waved his spear. “Lord Gabriel is that you?”

“I’m afraid not, sir knight,” Alden said, stepping forward to aid him, Leor assumed, but Menno blocked his path with a planted lance.

“That voice — the Pontiff?” He rolled on his round-bellied armor onto all fours, took off his helm that had eye slits shaped like a frog’s lip, and bowed. The Frog Knight’s face was akin to a plump raisin, and dressed in smiling wrinkles. Even now, the Frog Knight smiled at them. “Apologies, Your Grace. My sight is failing me. I am Jerma Mudkin of Lady Katerina’s Withered Roses, and chosen envoy of the Marsh Knights.”

“Knight Jerma, are you alright? Your wound. . . ”

“Ah, don’t worry about me, Your Grace. This is but a scratch. It’ll take more than a silly old wound to put down a proud Marsh Knight!” He coughed out a hearty laugh while fingering the bloodied puncture in his plate mail and green surcoat. “Besides, someone is on the way to relieve me of my post. Though the lazy bastards sure are taking their time.”

“Is that so?” Alden said, his eyes still twisted with pity. “And where is the rest of your legion? Are you here alone?”

“Oh, they are further into Solaris. Pushing back the accursed, I presume. My dear son, Everard, is with the fair lady,” Jerma Mudkin said with a beaming grin. “Hopefully that boy will learn a thing or two under her tutelage. As for myself, I’ve been stationed here by Lady Katherina to inform Lord Michael or Lord Gabriel’s forces — whoever arrives first — of her whereabouts. She and the other pillars should be converging at the King’s Finger as we speak.”

A shriek howled from one of the hanging bodies, startling their party. All but the Frog Knight. For that, Jerma Mudkin drove his spear up under the corpse’s chin and held it in until the corpse fell silent. Jerma Mudkin smiled and said, “Well, it’s feeding time”, then whistled. Crows flocked to the wooden crosses raised along the bridge railing, and feasted on the shriveled bodies.

The outpost, Leor thought, it’s the same sort of ritual.

Yui nudged his side and whispered. “There. Do you see it? Around his chest. A faint glow of dark breathes from his heart.”

When Leor looked, it was far less than faint. The glow was a speck, easily mistaken for a scratch or a shadow, but as he peered into it, the spot danced like a quiet fire bleeding a waterfall of black flames. It made the hairs on his neck rise.

The party exchanged confused looks. Alden cleared his throat. “What happened to these knights?”

“Them? No need to concern yourself over the accursed, Your Grace. They have been in Solaris much longer than we have. Or says the Fourth Pillar. . . Hanging them keeps them weak, keeps them from moving. Blood loss, crows meal, and whatnot.” Jerma Mudkin wiped the tip of his spear and laughed. “My stink must be attracting them with how often they challenge me. I can’t remember the last time I had a bath or a decent meal.”

“And how long has it been since you’ve arrived?” Luella said with piqued curiosity. She must have felt it too; it was hard not to. Something was off.

Jerma Mudkin scrunched his face and knocked on his skull with a steeled fist. It looked like it pained him to think. “A few days, I reckon.”

A chill ran through him. With a glance, he saw the others felt it too.

“But the first legion left mon —” Luella started before Leor cupped her mouth and whispered, “Let’s keep our business to ourselves until we know more. You know the way to the High Wall, right?” When she nodded, he released his hand and turned back to Jerma Mudkin. “We must get going. Lord Alden has matters to discuss with. . . Lady Katerina.”

“Ah, I see. Well then, I will not keep you here. Go on, straight ahead. If you need me, I’ll linger here as long as Lady Katerina needs me to.” Jerma Mudkin said as he donned his helmet, his jolly laugh echoing within. “Oh, and please, if you see my son, tell him to keep his wits and heed my lady’s orders. The accursed may be weak, but they overbear you in numbers. Everard dons armor like my own, but his surcoat is brown with a gold stitching of a salamander. The color of a novice.”

Hendrick’s body stiffened when he heard the request and said, “Will do, Sir Jerma.”

The party left the Frog Knight alone, keeping a sword's distance away in fear of what he might have done when their backs were to him, but Jerma Mudkin simply waved them off with a hollow guffaw.

They marched through the city cursed with an eternal summer, moving between the shades of buildings twisted and contorted from sporadic pimples beneath the streets.

True to its name, the sun over Solaris was scorching. The heat had melted the spires, and turned the roads into rivers of gold; steeples of high towers hunched over like malnourished oak trees; the flora dry and pale as a ghost.

The heat did not pester him like it did the others. Though his face was bronzing, Leor’s body remained cool beneath his dragonscale cloak. It had been often said dragons were children of the sun. Perhaps there was some truth in the tales after all.

For him, Hendrick was his chain. The giant still had not grown accustomed to his stumped leg. He’d struggle climbing ladders short enough for Yoru to bound over, using his absent foot to climb and almost plummeting if he had not clung to the rung. Leor began to climb after him in case he truly did fall. But he kept that to himself and pressed on.

At last, they arrived at an overlook, just before one of the many giant walls, where they glimpsed a vista of Solaris. Lichtwerth had taken much inspiration from the old city, Leor saw. Solaris hosted five towering walls, each layer taller than its predecessor.

“They’re called the Five Rings,” Luella told them, “A ring for each finger. The one before us is the Forefinger Ring.” She pointed beyond the walls to the grand drum tower at the heart of Solaris. “That’s where the other Pillars are headed, the King’s Finger. The old throne room where the Great Calamity ended. We shall find the First Archives and the Revolutionary’s Belfry there.”

“The High Wall comes first,” he told her, settling Hendrick down for a rest. Truth be told, a break sang sweet songs.

She nodded and drew his attention to the cables sprouting from the Forefinger Ring. “It’s quite archaic but the ropeslide can take us to the Thumb Ring in no time. The guards used to ride it to traverse Solaris in minutes.”

His stomach grew uneasy as he imagined the wire failing him midway down the slope. “Will it hold?”

“Pray that it does or we had wasted time walking away from the outer wall,” she said, “Still, that’s only half of our worries.”

Below, a dozen knights occupied the wall’s base. The knights were behemoths, twice the size of a normal man, dressed in bulky, spiked plate mail. Six carried tower shields and spears that resembled large, sharpened bones, and patrolled the grounds; the rest were piling black kegs by the large iron gates. Leor wondered if the knights were as slow as they looked.

“The knights massing at the base do not appear to be of the Order. Their attire is none I have seen before. The Order has never had such jagged and clunky armor. We must climb the scaffolding to reach the ladder. ” She paused to glance at Hendrick. “And we must pass the squadron. . .”

Leor snapped at her when he finally understood her words. “No, we’ll find a better way.”

Shocked by his barking, Luella averted her gaze.

“Leor, the man will slow us down,” Yui said in the scholar’s place. “The man’s time as a warrior has passed. Leave him.”

“No, I will not abandon him. A man leaves —”

“ —no one behind. I know the saying all too well.”

His blood burned. He hated how easily Yui read him. “Then you know I cannot leave him here to die.”

“It’s fine, my lord,” Hendrick said, “Go on. I’ll just rest here for a moment and catch up later.” His weak grin was a pitiful attempt.

“No, we go together.”

“Then what about Yoru,” Yui retorted. “Who else but you will carry him up?”

His throat trapped his words. He had forgotten about the edgewolf. If Yoru was still small, perhaps he could find a way to make it work. But both the giant and the edgewolf required much strength to carry.

“If you lack the stomach to end the slave’s misery, I’d be much obliged,” Emilia said in a voice that had no hints of japes. The Dragonslayer stood square with one hand resting on the hilt of her longsword, the other on her hip. Though Leor was a head taller than her, he could sense her eyes staring down at him. “What a pitiful display of resolve. Now I see why you failed to protect Ceri.”

Leor restrained himself from lifting his weapon, but he could not hold his tongue any longer. The words erupted from his throat. “It was your precious Gods who took her. If it were not for the Soul Arms they give to you damn knights, she would still be here.”

“And what excuse do you have? You had Storm’s Decree in your possession, did you not? You had the powers of the Storm at your fingertips, yet you call upon it after her demise.”

“I —” Leor caught himself. Did he? The memories of that day had been flushed out with images of Ceri’s death. He shook his head. No, I must have. How else could I have. . . “You question me, a lowly purblight, and refuse to even consider the Gods’ idleness. They sit on their ivory thrones in the safety of their walls as they watch their people die. Tell me — was Ceri lacking in faith? Is that why the great hero ignores the cries of his people? Or perhaps he is no true hero after all.”

“How dare you speak ill of the king, you ungrateful rat. To think his Grace allowed your kind to seek sanction in Tridon. The realms should have rid the world of purblights ages ago.” Emilia drew her longsword. Lightning spluttered and bloomed like a cloud of violet roots as soon as the blade left its scabbard.

The Dragonslayer bled a murderous aura that Leor matched with his own. “Funny. The realms are no less guilty than the Gods they worship.”

“Enough, both of you.” Alden yanked Emilia’s weapon hand down. “What would Ceri say if she saw the two of you at each other’s throats? Her dream was to reunite humanity, not widen the rift. Don’t let her death be in vain.”

For a lingering moment, Leor and Emilia battled in glares before she sheathed her blade. “Be wary, purblight. Your luck will run out sooner or later,” she mumbled as Alden dragged her away along with Menno.

“Luck.” Leor scoffed. He knelt over to lift Hendrick but the giant shoved his hands away.

“No, m’lord. They speak the truth. You need to go.”

“Hendrick, don’t be a fool.” Leor tried again but Hendrick pushed him harder, the giant’s usual grin replaced by one as transparent as glass.

Hendrick chuckled softly, shaking his head. Leor watched the giant stare into space with hooded eyes, thinking for a long while. When he had found his words, Hendrick faced him. “Leor, did you know I have a daughter?”

Confused, Leor kept quiet.

“She’s a slave too, you see. The day I was taken as a prisoner, they — the Order — had separated her from me. My little girl. . . she was just a tiny thing and they sold her off to some small lord.” His eyes glistened with tears. “I don’t know if my girl, my dear Belinda, is still alive.”

“At night, I dream about the vile things they do to her. Beat her. Rape her. . .” He paused and breathed deep. “Sometimes I hope she had rebelled and they killed her for it. Death would be mercy for my little girl.”

Yoru licked the giant’s hand. Hendrick ran his hand through the edgewolf’s black furs, his thoughts lingering in silence.

“But if there’s a chance she still lives, I want to save her. That’s why I accepted the Order’s call. But as I am now, the dream is far from my reach.”

“Then rise,” Leor said, “Rise and see it through.”

“No. It is as Miss Yui says. My time to fight is over.” He took Leor by the arm. “But yours is just beginning. Finish what you started, m’lord, and do what must be done. You took pity on me. On Yola and Lisa. Even that bastard Pons. You’re a good man, Leor. I know you’ll do what’s right.”

He saw it in his eyes. The eyes of a man who had not accepted defeat but passed his hope onto another. It would shatter his honor if Leor refused him. How could Hendrick put his faith in him? Someone he had not known for more than a month. He strained himself for a way to bring him along, wrestling his thoughts with scenarios that all lead to his death.

Remember why you’re here, he repeated to himself.

His head was steaming. Leor clawed at his scalp and growled. “Don’t you die on me, you hear?”

The giant’s warm smile returned, and he thanked him.

A haunting sound bellowed from the King’s Finger and sent a terrible resonance through the land. Leor’s heart stopped at each booming wave. He shot a glance at Luella. Her horrified face sealed his fear.

The Revolutionary’s Bell was tolling.