“Are you still set on this?” Tiraeses asked Leon as they gathered the morning after defeating the raelon—or so Tiraeses claimed, Leon could hardly tell if it were morning or evening given the thick black clouds still hanging in the sky.

“Set on what?” Leon asked.

“Continuing to the Mandian Lands,” Tiraeses clarified.

Leon lightly grimaced, Xaphan and the Thunderbird’s urgings to leave still ringing in his ear, the silver twig gleaming in the soft light that filled his soul realm. He could use it any time, and that gave him no small amount of confidence. While it was clear enough that a Primal Devil’s power had flooded the plane, there was still the matter of Qo Weylekh’s disappearance and the whereabouts of his Universe Fragment.

“It’s a risk,” Leon conceded, “but I still want to attempt this journey. I think the better question is whether or not you’re still set on being my guide. I would be most grateful for the knowledgeable company, but I won’t hold you to any oath made in haste.”

“I made my decision; I won’t back down now,” Tiraeses stated simply. “I would be judged harshly by Just Helior should I go back on such an important oath—especially one made to a man who aided me in finally defeating that devil-sent raelon.” He paused a moment and gestured to their surroundings.

They were in a chamber set up in one of the mountains—it was a beautiful room, with a floor of polished but otherwise unworked stone, while the walls were enchanted to project what Leon thought was an idealized vision of the exterior, much like the gazebo he’d rested in earlier. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the noon sky, giving Leon some mental relief from being underground, even if he knew it was fake. Between him and Tiraeses was a large red stone table.

“My sanctuary lies empty, save for an old man too long ignored by the Red-Eyed One,” he said. “It is my home, and I love it dearly, but… by the Mother Above, and Lika, Lady of the Hearth, this hasn’t been a true home for seventy years. Your arrival is a sign of the gods that my time here has come to an end.”

Leon cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Why do you say that? I was sent by Ambrose, Grave Warden of Aeterna, not by any gods. The only god I’ve ever encountered was the Primal God Krith’is, and I’m lucky to have made it out of that one alive, to be honest.”

“Luck is only how we rationalize the works of the gods we do not yet understand,” Tiraeses said with a soft smile. “It was the gods’ will that you come here, and so it was that you found yourself here.”

Leon opened his mouth for a moment to argue before thinking better of it. “I suppose the how or why of it doesn’t matter too much; I’m here anyway. Though, I have a question for you, Tiraeses, if you’d indulge me? A couple, actually.”

“A couple? That’s fine. I’ll answer any questions you have.”

“I hope so. I’ll start with the easiest for you to answer. I was sent here with a method to escape: an object that, if I were to break it, would generate a spatial tunnel that would whisk me and anyone else who jumped into it back to Aeterna. I’ve… been urged by my demonic partner to use this as the darkness magic that’s inundating this plane is consistent with the power of a Primal Devil. So, I suppose what I want to know is… if I were to use this object, would you like to come back to Aeterna with me?”

Tiraeses’ expression grew grim, and the silence that fell in the wake of Leon’s question stretched uncomfortably as the monk considered Leon’s question.

“Would I…” he finally muttered after what felt like hours but had only been about ten seconds. “Would I… leave this plane, my home, everything I’ve ever known…”

“I told you a bit about how I spent my youth,” Leon said as Tiraeses seemed about ready to lose himself in contemplation again. “I also told you about why I was forced to leave the Forest of Black and White. I’ve returned a couple times in the… Ancestors, almost a quarter of a century since then. It’s always been quite calming to be back there, but… it’s never felt like home. My father was gone, and my home was ruined. By my own hand, of course, but it could’ve been easily rebuilt. My point is one you made only a couple minutes ago: is your home still your home if everyone you’ve known there is gone?”

Tiraeses murmured, “Mothers Above and Below, Sky and Earth, show me the path to peace. Strength within to strength without; Valiant Ashatar, steady my heart.” He then looked up at Leon and said, “I am not yet ready to give up on my plane. I don’t know if all I’ve known is gone.”

“Fair enough,” Leon replied. “I’m willing to continue onward, but know that if I ever judge it’s time to use this object—a silver twig that I snap—then the invitation to join me will remain open—especially since I’m unlikely to snap the twig for no reason, and we may be in a tight situation at the time.”

Tiraeses slowly lowered his head in acknowledgment.

“Now, for my other question: you recognized the name ‘Qo Weylekh’ when I said it yesterday.” As Leon spoke the name of Arkhnavi’s Grave Warden, Tiraeses stiffened slightly. Leon leaned forward, resting his hands on the table between them, and asked, “What do you know of him?”

Tiraeses stared at him for a long moment, his expression growing dark enough that Leon wondered if the monk was trying to set him on fire with his gaze alone. When the moment was over, Tiraeses explained, “I have little personal experience with him. He ruled the Mandian Lands as King of Kings and had little knowledge of me. I was sworn to one of the Kings he was King of, though, and had some dealings with him, if indirectly. If you’re looking for detailed knowledge, I cannot give it to you, but I can say that Qo Weylekh was a profoundly arrogant man, and one who falsely claimed to be the sole speaker for the gods. He had the power to back it up, but by Strong Ashagon, had I the strength to… It does not matter. It is a matter for Mulitan, Lord of Memory, now.”

“You seem to carry a lot of antipathy for him even though you, by your own admission, didn’t know him personally.”

“I des—” Tiraeses began before his mouth and eyes snapped shut. Leon was almost worried before he heard Tiraeses taking a few long, deep breaths. He then opened his eyes and said in a much calmer tone, “I have seen many unpleasant things done in the name of the Blue Sky King, my Lord and close friend. I… it shames to say it, but I participated in some of those unpleasant things, myself.”

Tiraeses paused and locked his gaze on Leon, his expression gravely serious.

“I was exiled from the Mandian Lands,” he said. “Not by participating in some vile act, though by Just Helior, there were certainly some of those they could’ve exiled me and many others for, but didn’t. No, it was quietly questioning Qo Weylekh’s position that sent me here. For the best, I assure you, and I hold no grudge with any of my old friends for it—they were worried word of my ‘heresy’ would make its way back to Qo Weylekh, and then he’d punish everyone for my sin. But… though I do not rue where I wound up, it has always been impossible to ignore what I was exiled for, and what I did before that didn’t result in the same punishment.”

“Huh,” Leon responded. “That’s… I suppose I can only be grateful that Ambrose is so… noninterventionist? Or maybe lazy?”

“No man can become a god,” Tiraeses definitively stated. “A mage can become powerful, but Mandious, Lord of All in Heaven, sits upon the throne of the gods. No amount of power will allow a mage to usurp him, for we are all fundamentally mortal; even those who live for millennia have fleeting lives compared to the eternal gods. Praise all the gods Above and Below for any reason that your ‘Grave Warden’ does not interfere with your affairs, for I’ve come to understand that only the virtuous can be trusted to wield their powers responsibly, and no man is virtuous.”

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“You say that, but you are a ninth-tier mage. One doesn’t ascend so far without striving for power.”

Tiraeses softly chuckled. “Yes. But who says anyone has to trust me with power? Wise Farangeun may be infinitely my superior, but I possess wisdom enough to know that I shouldn’t be trusted with power over other people. I have proved to myself that I make poor decisions.”

“Then… why keep striving for magical power?”

“Magic is a gift of the gods to mortals. To understand it is to understand the universe and become closer to the gods. We will never be them, we will never be their equal, but I see no problem with seeking to understand myself, magic, and the universe. Tell me, Leon, do you believe yourself to be worthy of the crown because of your strength?”

“I’m a King because I have the right blood,” Leon drily said.

“That’s not what I asked,” Tiraeses shot back. “You are powerful. Is that enough to make you worthy of being a King?”

“No,” Leon replied. “It takes more than strength to rule a Kingdom.”

[Ha!] the Thunderbird chortled from his soul realm, and he could sense Xaphan’s amusement, too. [Strength is all you need,] his Ancestor added scornfully.

“What makes a man worthy of being King, then?” Tiraeses asked, pressing Leon quickly enough that he didn’t respond to his soul realm’s inhabitants on their responses.

Leon grinned at the monk. He wasn’t prepared to get into a philosophical debate on the nature of power with Tiraeses, so instead of directly answering, he simply asked, “What is a King?” He stared at Tiraeses challengingly, but the monk just smiled and rose to meet his challenge.

“What makes one worthy of wielding power?” he asked. “Is merely having the power enough?”

Leon thought about it for a few seconds, though his answer remained the same as his gut response. “No,” he said. “I’ve known many people who held power, yet by their actions proved themselves—at least to me—to be unworthy of it. Low-level bureaucrats exerting what little influence they have to retaliate against a perceived wrong, a mighty Emperor who spent more time forcing himself upon any pretty woman he could find than he did ruling his Empire, siblings squabbling over inheritances because of status despite their father remaining in the land of the living.”

“Greed, lust, pride,” Tiraeses replied. “Sins, all. A sinful man is unworthy of holding power over others. Only a virtuous man can be trusted with that responsibility.”

“Show me a man without sin and I’ll show you a liar,” Leon said.

“I would agree,” Tiraeses said. “But… I believe that all men should pursue virtue, even if they possess none. The mere act of pursuing it will make us into better men who are worthier to wield power. But never should we be trusted with it; all those with power should be watched, their every sin scrutinized.”

Leon pursed his lips. “I’d question you on that, but I think we ought to focus on our next steps, shouldn’t we?”

“As you say. But if you have any other questions, please ask me. I may not be Wise Farangeun, but I have a few centuries of experience debating my brothers that I can draw on to explain my positions.”

“Perhaps later. But I don’t think philosophy is going to get us to where we need to go.”

“Philosophy can get us anywhere we need to go,” Tiraeses replied, “but I take your point.”

Leon nodded. “So, first thing’s first: I considered the problem of the Primal Devil’s darkness for a while last night while I was studying the enchantments below the mountains. Here in the mountains, the influence of the Devil is lessened, and that gave me an idea.”

Leon pulled out a pair of spells inscribed upon some of the highest quality spell paper he had. Upon the paper he’d inscribed a complex enchantment, though the complexity mostly came from a single rune: the same rune that he and the Thunderbird believed was holding back the darkness from flooding through the underground monastery.

Surrounding the ancient rune were amplification runes, as well as a few additional runes to keep funneling magic power into the spell so it didn’t have to be consciously maintained—an easy enough feat for modern runes, but it was the first time Leon was trying something like this with an ancient rune. Ancient runes in his experience required great concentration and mental fortitude, but the ancient runes he’d used before weren’t specialized. The ancient rune for ‘open’ was simple, but the scope was broad, and with that broad scope, the power of the rune was greatly lessened. The narrower the scope for an ancient rune, the more powerful it became at doing what it was meant to do, not to mention the less concentration it required on the part of the mage.

“These spells should help us,” Leon said. “Not enough, I think, to allow us to fly out there, but enough that any ill effects of being out in the Primal Devil’s power might be lessened. They’ll surely not last long if we are directly attacked, but… when walking outside, even a little protection from the elements goes a long way.”

“Wise Farangeun has blessed you,” Tiraeses said as he took one of the spells and admired it. “There is no other explanation for how you could have created something like this otherwise…”

[I hate this man,] the Thunderbird viciously grumbled. [Sins himself by mixing power and morality, then insults our skills! He attributes my blessing to his Fool Farangeun!]

[I can feel your desire to fry him,] Xaphan added. [Finally, something we can agree upon: lighting this arrogant baldy on fire!]

[I’d rather incinerate him with lightning,] the Thunderbird nonchalantly replied.

As the two began to bicker amongst themselves about how they’d rather see Tiraeses die, Leon ignored them and moved on.

“What is our route?” Leon asked. “What’s in our path?”

Tiraeses bowed his head slightly and then conjured a detailed map of the local region, then another map of the neighboring region, and kept going in that direction until they had a good path to the Mandian Lands.

“This region has always been sparsely populated,” Tiraeses explained. “A few towns here and there, but most people lived in farming or fishing villages. We won’t find much remaining after the catastrophe that brought the curse and pestilence. We’ll have to travel more than two hundred miles before we reach the nearest city…”

Tiraeses traced the path across the first map to the second.

“I have not been that far from my sanctuary in two centuries,” he said. “Only the gods know what became of this city, Yu Nok Tor, but given what drove so many desperate souls to deprave and despoil these fair lands, I do not think the city yet remains. But I wish to see with my own eyes what has become of it, and the people who once lived there. If there’s anything left to see.”

Leon nodded along as Tiraeses traced their path further.

“After Yu Nok Tor, I would see us follow the cities of the Plains of Paradise southeast, then through the Many-Flowered Hills. At the end of the Rainbow Valley within the hills will be Wise Farangeun’s Gates, and beyond them, the Mandian Lands. Once through the gates, we’ll only have to follow these highways to reach Tell Kirin, the seat of Qo Weylekh.”

Leon frowned more and more deeply as Tiraeses narrated their path. There were a lot of cities along the way, but it wasn’t until they entered the Mandian Lands that Tiraeses went out of his way to avoid any, with him taking a somewhat circuitous route swinging north of Tell Kirin before approaching it almost from the northeast.

“That’s… a lengthy route,” Leon observed. “I don’t want to question you as the guide, but why are we going so far east before heading for Tell Kirin?”

Tiraeses grimaced. “The Kingdom of the Blue Sky lies in that direction, while the more direct route goes through the city of Naxor Amis, where I was told the original ritual that summoned the first pestilence was conducted. I would need the strength and courage of Strong Ashagon and Valiant Ashatar to venture into that city even alongside you.”

Leon stared at the city in question on the map, curiosity prickling at his skull. He wanted to see what happened there, but he forced it back. He was already taking a risk staying on the plane despite having an easy way back to Aeterna, he didn’t have to purposefully increase that risk by venturing into the city. He agreed—reluctantly—that avoiding Naxor Amis was the right call.

“How long do you think this will take?” Leon asked. If they could fly, he thought this would be a weeklong journey at most, but without access to flight…

“It would take me a week on foot to reach the Yu Nok Tor if Swift Haecal blessed my journey, and then another to reach the Many-Flowered Hills. After two and a half weeks, under… less devilish circumstances, we would be through Wise Farangeun’s Gates, and then with the infrastructure of the Mandian lands, only another week to reach Tell Kirin.”

“Three to four weeks?” Leon said aloud. “I’ll assume three or four months if we’re lucky.” He frowned lightly. “I was given nine months to finish any business here and return before the Grave Wardens assumed everyone they sent failed, and they destroyed this plane entirely.”

Tiraeses put on a stoic expression and after a moment of thought said, “I… understand their reasoning. But I can’t imagine anyone would be judged well by Just Helior if they condemned an entire plane to death, no matter the circumstances.”

“The release of Primal Devils are circumstances,” Leon emphasized. “But I see the moral argument you’re making. For now, why don’t we go over the particulars of the route we’re going on, and then prepare for it as best as we can? I can’t imagine this journey is going to be anywhere close to smooth…”