For a single beat, the world before Vess hung between measures. A hundred competing rhythms congealed into a single, frozen caesura as the world itself inhaled.

The Fathom was dropping as its ooze-coated mass flared with horrid darkness. Pit swooped low, too far away but pushing forward valiantly, beating mighty wings that crackled with tempestuous fury. The War Naga stood guard over the ice-coated Beef and Hallow, their tridents and claws lifted toward the descending cataclysm of cold shadow.

Isla clenched Vess’ shoulder, hard enough to buckle the Journeyman metal of her armor, and a nameless melody spun from her throat. It bolstered the moment, the pause of the world’s breath, spinning glory into the radiant harmonics that burst wild from Vess’ core. That, above all else, was what stretched the spearmaiden’s Perceptions, turning instants into hours as a riot of light and song tumbled forth from the connection she felt within. It was pure, majestic, and for a moment, a riotous cacophony of hope.

Vess fed her all into it, letting the hurricane within her breast run wild.

She let it sing.

Fathom! Wake! she cried into the connection. You must! Its primary eyes flashed golden, bright as the conflagration around her, and a razor sharp sense of despair curdled the melody. Vess weathered the inchoate agony that blasted down from the Fathom’s rousing Mind, head unbowed as she bore its unbearable fears. The Creature! Free yourself!

Yet all at once, the Dusk Dragon’s eyes flickered and faded, the golden light in them extinguishing just as the thread of connection fizzled. The frozen umbral aura of the Creature’s abominable Spirit was too much—and growing stronger. Divine or worse, whatever it was, Vess knew she could not fight it any longer.

As the world began to breathe again, Vess heard only a scornful laugh.

Fathom—!

Harmony and unchained Dissonance hit, a cymbal crash upon the skin of the world as the shadow-wrapped Fathom hit a wave of cyclonic power. Heat and dust spun through the torpid water, boiling it, buffeting the ooze-coated coils of the corrupted Dusk Dragon and throwing it back from its calamitous descent.

>

A colossal, chitinous leg unfolded from between the huddled War Naga, lifted up as if it were a spear.

> Isla gasped in clear disbelief. >

> Beefhammer shouted, standing tall among his allies. Vess gaped at him, almost unable to see his form among the swirl of Mana and the towering insectoid leg that seemed to extend directly from his chest.

Pitiful Thing! Your Power—!

The leg’s tapered end flashed upward on those currents of heat, dust, and fetid decay—right into the Fathom’s surprised skull.

> Beef grunted.

The attack struck through ooze and scale and flesh with ease, striking not the Fathom’s Body, but its Spirit. The impact blasted outward from its forehead, a concussive wave that cracked the earth, fifty strides below the Dragon. The Fathom roared, but it was nothing compared to the screech that wracked the shadowed Creature.

>

>

>

Reality lost all meaning as a shearing atonal tumult ripped through them. It was more than the Dissonance Vess had experienced before, more than the Grand Harmony even—it felt as if a fundamental piece of Creation was shrieking in torment. Vess cast her Perception upward, toward the Fathom and the grappling Creature; the waters boiled and fuzzed before the onslaught of that scream, but she could make out two things. The Fathom was alive…and the Creature had all but pulled free of its flesh.

Fathom! Fa—no. Vess shoved a hand to the shattered earth, pressing herself up to her knees. Echoes of the Memory unspooled within her Mind, faint things that thinned their dwindling connection. Yini. Yintarion of the Cerulean Skies.

Vess lifted her hand, fingers splayed. WAKE.

>

>

The hurricane that raged inside her burst free, as a mountain peak within her split in twain. Rocks and moss fell, caught up in the spinning maelstrom, revealing an open, draconic maw—identical to the spectral one that formed atop Vess’ physical shoulders. It raised its long, fanged snout into the air and let loose a deep, mournful cry. It was a lament of unremitting loss, and terrible, inconsolable grief.

The Fathom reacted as if it had been set aflame.

No! Silence! Silence That Caterwauling!

Vess neither knew nor cared if the Creature was speaking to her or the Dragon; she did not stop, but poured more of her power into the Skill.

Matriarch's Lament is level 73!

Already she could see it working. The connection between them thrummed with new vitality, a thread into a streamlet of golden light. Above, the shadow was thrown back as the Fathom bucked in agony.

Remember, Yintarion! she urged. Remember and throw that parasite off of you!

I—

A single syllable tumbled through their connection before it was smothered, but Vess would not relent. She committed, even as she knew that doing so would ruin all of her chances at recomposition. Vess released her warrior’s fury and embraced the long sorrow and deep compassion her father had instilled within her—the hallmarks of a ruler.

Within, the maelstrom of Primordial power kicked up another notch. Mountain peaks crumbled—On The Wing, Draconic Stormfall, and The Fang of Havoc all breaking to pieces, their once twisted facades shattered beneath the tearing wind. Batlike wings, coiling tails, and even a gargantuan tooth were laid bare, stripped of the stone that hid their metamorphosis, revealing the glimmer of gold and a rich mosaic of harmonies. They joined in, the vibrations turned to music turned to song, flowing among the roar of winds and cloud as all of it was focused upon the Matriarch’s Lament.

Matriarch's Lament is level 74!

…

Matriarch's Lament is level 79!

Congratulations! You Have Reached Adept Tier In Matriarch’s Lament!

You Gain:

+15% END

+15% AFI

+...

Vess fumbled with a Essence Draught, pulling it free of her belt and pouring it into the spectral jaws of her draconic head, and pulling it down into her core.

Legendary Essence Detected During Formation!

[Essence Draught of Atlantes (Air/Metal)]

Choose A Feature:

Sorrow

Wrath

Triumph

System energy blasted down through Vess’ core space, filtering through the night sky that reigned above. More than that, the twin lights of red and blue stars grew, becoming something far more than distant motes. Red-gold and blue-white radiance illuminated her core space, somehow resonating with the System’s energy as all of it hit the Primordial-forged temple at her center.

She chose the only option that would break through the Creature’s guard.

Congratulations!

You Have Absorbed The Essence Of [Triumph]!

An explosion of light and sound ripped from her temple doors, forcing a wave of pressure that scattered the clouds and revealing depths Vess had never known existed. Heat and something far more primal emanated from below, but Vess flinched away—for behind that pressurized wave, a brilliant gleaming light raced outward. It clung to her new-formed peaks like liquid gold, coating her Skills with a power she had never experienced.

The Fang of Havoc is level 74!

On The Wing is level 78!

Draconic Stormfall is level 74!

Among all of it, was the Grand Harmony woven into a Dragon’s roar.

Vess poured all of the Mana and Stamina she had into the strident call of her Lament, a Skill designed to inflict the grief and anguish of an ancient Dragon upon her enemies—grief that spun visions of burning skies, frozen mountains, and the betrayal of kin. Vess recognized the visions, and she pressed them all along her strengthening connection, all of it tinted by the Essence that flared within her Skill.

Remember Rana! You are not yet lost!

Their connection suffered through a devastating quake as the Fathom—Yintarion—blinked open shining golden eyes.

Yintarion roared. Ooze stripped from his snout, revealing dull golden scales and a tongue the brilliant red of blood and flame. Yet the ooze stopped, just beyond the Dragon’s snow-white mane, as the umbral waters cracked into near-ice.

You Shall Never Be Rid Of Me, Vessel. It had been cast off, but now the Creature’s faceless head swam in the spectral depths, drawing closer and closer. It grew, as if one of the moons were falling atop them all. You Have Failed All That You Hoped To Achieve. Lost All That You Loved. There Is Nothing But My Worship For You. Nothing But Me.

You Are Mine.

A hopeless gloom swallowed the Dragon, engulfing the thready strains of Vess’ Lament as if it were nothing. Yintarion’s eyes fluttered, gold flickering to black and back again.

Enough Of That, Dragoon.

Vess stumbled, Aspects stricken as her Skill was forcefully cut off.

“Dragoon…run,” Yintarion whispered, but he bellowed through the waters like a bugle.

The Creature laughed, that same slow derision curdling its faceless essence. Its oozing tendrils sunk into the Dragon’s flesh, crawling up his neck and jaw once more, as the Creature’s shadowed, faceless form hovered just beyond and outside. Enough Speaking, Vessel. Yours Is Not To Think.

> Vess said through her hitched breath. Her Mind felt scrambled by all that had occurred, and her Spirit and Body weren’t far behind.

That chuckle again; as deep as the lightless pit of the water. I Am More Than You Could Ever Conceive, Little Chanter. I Am The Sliver Of The Night Itself.

> Isla said, her throat hoarse and her scalp leaking blood into the listless water. >

> Beef asked, lifting his bovine head.

The Most Clever Of All The Gods. Destroyer Of The Ten Thousand Ships. Breaker Of The Undermount. The Creature swelled, its faceless visage overtaking everything within view as it spoke. The voice of it scraped at their eardrums, raw and discordant yet containing stentorian notes that commanded every ounce of their attention. Yes. All Of That, And Far More.

> Vess said, fighting through the deafening noise and drawing herself to her feet. It hurt. It hurt so very much. >

A growl shook the water and earth like an earthquake. I Will Enjoy Devouring You, Girl. You And Your Worthless Allies Will Be The Fuel I Require To Overcome This Prison.

> Vess promised. The anger was easy to summon, and it burned clean in her Spirit. >

Fool. The Dragon Is Gone. There Is Only Fathom. Somehow, even without a face, it sneered. The Paltry Power Of A Dead Primordial Cannot Overcome The Might Of The Divine. All Of Your Tricks Achieved Nothing, Girl.

> Vess panted, wincing through the strain she felt across her Mind. >

What?

A bolt of lightning hit the Creature, screaming through the water itself as silence bloomed into a new chaos.

“Chthonic Tribute!”