The world of Morvalis just felt so lifeless to Rookard. There was a strange stillness in the air, a lack of life nearly everywhere they went. It was like everything happened in some ancient past, and the world’s very presence was meant only to remember.

  Rookard’s wolves and Morwen’s servants and priestesses of Arawn had ultimately separated to try to cover more ground and achieve more. His team followed Taron’s nose, seeking the wrongness of the world.

  And Tartarus kept finding ways to slow them down, with Rifts spawning and its usual machinations to move their deathly creatures into their way.

  Perhaps, they were being led around by the nose. They placed another Array Flag, a duplicate meant to be hidden from their opponents. It seemed they were already removing them, despite the flags not redirecting their energies and only providing communication and enemy tracking.

  With the connection, the array had reconnected to the HQ, but he noticed that he couldn’t reach where Morwen was spotted last. Rookard then received a request for a conversation from someone he didn’t expect: his daughter. “Enora? What is it? Did you have a vision?”

  “Father! No, but I wanted to give you some news, since I think you might have missed it.”

  “What is it?”

  “The Chief had a breakthrough with our people’s runes–our songs. Let me send you some information, and maybe you can make use of it. It’s wonderful; it will improve the strength of all our brethren.”

  Rookard received the information in his Menu, and it included various details, including images containing what the chief had found. “The triskele…so you’re telling me shaping our songs a certain way…that was all that was missing?”

  “He believes there’s some way to use the Celtic Knot symbol and others as well; we just need to find it. The chief would like us to try our folk songs and more to uncover more secrets. But I know you use many songs in battle, Father, and was sure you could benefit from this easily.”

  “Thanks, Daughter. I’ll give it a try and spread it around. Anything else?”

  “The chief and his wives have also had some other luck on their side, luring some of them into Morwen’s team by using their own messaging tool against them. She captured some betrayers and retrieved some captives. It seems that the Church of Mortem on this world… they can’t be explicitly trusted. Some are working against the world. Others are…indifferent.”

  “That is… somewhat good news, in that we’ve learned about our opponents. How come I haven’t heard from her?”

  “The chain of flags must have been cut off for a time, but we’ve guided others to replace them. It could be a part of the enemy’s plot. Do be careful.”

  “Will do, thanks, Daughter.” He ended the messaging. The threat of the depths of the enemy’s betrayals was concerning, but the rune discovery was exciting. His song already summoned his wolves. What if he followed this pattern?

  Moving the auril into the shapes was easy, as his heart sang the words that matched what he spoke.

  “Wolves of the wild, heed my call.

  Guard the balance; track the shadowed path.

  Together with my brethren, we hunt!”

  His hunting wolves congealed out of auril, just as they always did. However, they were denser and much stronger than usual. They used more auril, but he found much more value in that they could deal more damage or stand up to more blows before dispersing.

  His Technique: On The Hunt, would even feed into their effectiveness, no doubt. There was no question that Rookard just became that much more deadly, and so would the many beastkin fighting on numerous battlefields.

  His heart continued to beat the song, continuing the triskele pattern all on its own. With a thought, he let them disperse. “I wonder? So many songs in our history. Do they all have meaning?” He focused on the song that gave his own life the most meaning after he had lost his son, his heart singing the requiem of vengeance.

  “Hear the heartbeats of the fallen; in their silence stirs Arawn’s judgment.”

  “Mark us with duty; bind our claws to rightful vengeance, and let every tyrant’s taint be laid bare.”

  The runes formed one at a time, and he could feel something building.

  “For betrayal against life, there must be blood.”

  The runes fell apart on the third stanza, causing Rookard to frown. Was there something missing? There was a mention that auril and nethril would be needed for some songs, or a combination thereof. Could Rookard truly not complete the song on his own?

  Taron’s voice called out to him. “That…song. I remember, but…something is missing.” He walked next to Rookard, looking around the…nearly lifeless valley. When comparing it to the abundance of Highlands, he couldn’t help but dislike this place. The environment was close to an arid desert without being one, the trees and grass just barely able to survive instead of thriving.

  Rookard wasn’t sure what to make of Taron’s revelation, and asking the odd person wasn’t likely to gain new details. The man was cryptic in the best of times. “Taron. Did you find anything?”

  “The wrongness…it hides. It flees from our sight and my nose. I feel…that it lures us.”

  “A trap then? Of what manner? These betrayers…” Rookard frowned.

  “We are getting closer. I think it will soon come. When it can hide no longer.”

  It? Rookard frowned in thought. Perhaps because of what Morwen had accomplished, this Church of Mortem’s betrayal would be laid bare. That meant they could activate the array flags and bleed the energy from their precious monoliths, and these betrayers would need to come out of hiding before they were found. To fight on their own terms, perhaps.

  He would rather not abandon the trail, but their enemy had managed to confound Taron’s nose just as well. “Let’s play it a little safe then. We'll meet with Morwen while building up the network until we find these betrayers.” Rookard triggered his Menu, contacting Valtor or Amara.

  It was Valtor who answered first. “How can I help, Rookard?”

  “Can you send to me a proposed formation to make it more…transformative? If the Church of Mortem can’t be trusted, then I think it’s time to stop playing nice. I know Morwen can use this death energy, but so too can the enemy. I’d rather convert it. Preferably…to frost mana, if we can.”

  “Too true, Brother, too true. Very well. We’ll move from the default of the Leycurrent Tributary Array by adding the Leycurrent Refractor Nodes. Your men will be busy for a time placing the array flags before it shows any transformation.”

  “Something tells me it’ll be worth it. And if someone interferes, I want to hear immediately. So we can target them.”

  “We’ll do our best, but if we lose connection because they disabled flags, it will make it tough. We’ll add a few placements for some redundancy, and we’ll transmit it to you shortly. Take care, Rookard.”

  “You too, Valtor. Thanks for the help.”

  “You’re always welcome.”

  Eventually, Rookard received the proposed configuration of flags, and it worried him. If this was what was required to transform the energy, then that meant the enemy tampering with them would ruin the configuration. Valtor did mention redundancies…so perhaps that was what this was about.

  In addition to the multiple lines leading into what looked like rivers running and feeding into the leylines, like tributaries, there were now some extra line configurations of the flags leading into the larger rivers or leylines. They looked almost like fern or tree patterns, the same that would often appear when water vapor froze on a cold surface.

  This was a lot of extra flags. Rookard supposed that to refract or change what was coming in, each flag would gradually accomplish this and then feed it into the leyline. It was the best they could do when they were self-powered, as they were. With enough in the path, it would change the entire river, and then they could feed it into their master array flags, the Mana Fonts.

  Mana Fonts that only Morwen and her priestesses could really make significant use of. Rookard himself was a Clergy of Arawn, but he couldn’t truly make use of the energy.

  … Or could he? Perhaps he just needed to find the right song.

  ***

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  The combined forces of the Bramvalen Norse natives and Hearthtribe’s allies fought toward the lost city. The occasional Boss monster and various Rift spawns put up a fight, but they were simply outnumbered and outclassed.

  Astalder had managed to convince the Aesryn, the Norse natives, to fight alongside them as they attempted to reclaim their lost city of Rasengrad. Yiming was still a bit bewildered on how he had done it, appealing to their pride as warriors.

  They had left much of the Elysians and clans excellent at building up a defense as they made their outward assaults, taking on all the spawns on their way. It was a huge number because there were simply too many Rifts left unclosed as the world progressed toward falling.

  As the world spiraled toward its loss, the number of Rifts spawning per day was becoming a real challenge, and the only way to defeat it was to hold on and overcome the waves–and close many, besides.

  But they were making progress, and Yiming was shocked at how strong the various beastkin had become at what appeared to be such a simple epiphany, but he supposed he understood. These elites had already earned special potential-improving treasures inside the dungeon, as well as completing their world trial with exceptional ratings.

  Then they had top-grade equipment and skills to match, and Yiming knew that they were getting a significant bonus to their magical output thanks to their successes in magical research. He had learned from Valtor that they had crossed over 10% in multiple categories, which meant their total spellcasting strength exceeded an increase of over 40% in terms of casting power, speed, and efficiency.

  This was more than double the average native guild and nearly triple what foolish guilds like Radiant Glory would have, who didn’t care about magical research at all and just bought technology and items.

  Yiming himself was benefitting similarly, thanks to Hearthtribe’s findings being shared with his own, the guild making measurable progress.

  He dashed around the battlefield with powerful talismans on his back enhancing and protecting him, and his glaive flooded with Valor, its edge forming a large blade that was both strong and sharp. Thanks to his quick movements, his upward swing cleaved through the thinner scales of a giant crocodile’s neck, killing it before it really even knew what happened.

  His feet flowed across the ground smoothly as he then maneuvered around to flank some reptilian warriors, cutting through unprotected flesh and piercing through their internal organs as he dashed.

  The enemy horde was reinforced by yet another group, with several large Boss monsters lumbering in the rear. Their force of nearly a thousand warriors was going to handle this marathon of a battle with some leeway, but then some new figures from across the valley joined them from the other side.

  Missy, the giant dinosaur could be seen smashing into the enemy’s flanks, stomping over the smaller beasts, and sending enemy warriors flying. The very bright Seamus flashed beams of light into the enemies, providing a bastion of protection for allies but burning heat against enemies. And Antonius could be seen in his enlarged form, the large Roman legionnaire crashing into enemies with his bright shield.

  A large force of Greek natives joined the other beastkin and Elysian. So Takoda was successful in meeting up with their allies, Yiming noted. He had seen the blimps a while back, but they must have had to disembark from them much earlier to face enemies. They were likely a bit overloaded with their new allies.

  Yiming wondered if Astalder was truly the best person to handle this next part or not, as getting the two factions to work together would surely be difficult. He had handled winning over a few of the Jarls of the Aesryn well enough, but this could be a more difficult challenge.

  Longwei laughed as he slashed and tore through the enemies, fired up by the reinforcements. His body actually grew as he did. “Hahaha! More allies come; conquering this keep is a foregone conclusion now!”

  “I’m not sure that it’s so simple, Brother. The Aesryn do not get along with the Theskarrians. They were in a cold war status when the Framework arrived. Literally. Winter and geography were probably all that was keeping them from being at all-out war.”

  “But the Theskarrians made it all the way here, have they not? That means at least one side is willing to work together.”

  Yiming side-eyed his battle brother once more. Since when did he hold such wisdom? But then he saw Darris and Seamus’s daughters next to him and wondered if the man was just repeating something they had already said. Surely, they would have heard their brethren’s songs long before they had arrived.

  The end of the horde was eventually in sight, the two large forces fighting through the frozen landscape and slaying the various enemies. The Aesryn launched spells of frost and water across the battlefield, and some of the Blizzardblade Clan members aided in freezing the waters to easily dismantle the enemies.

  Yiming received several Rift closure messages across the Battlegroup, showing their efforts were worthwhile. Eventually, just a few enemies were left for those fighting at the edge of the battlefield, and he dashed over to help. But he hadn’t needed to.

  Astalder slashed upward with his rune-covered axe, the blade cutting deep through the Boss monster’s flesh, this one a giant serpent. With his follow-up swing of his other axe, he cleaved deeply into its throat, the other warriors cutting down the monster as a result of its weakening as it wailed and thrashed.

  The Norseman laughed. “Hahaha! What did I tell you, Jarl Eric? You fight with us, and you’ll have your city back in no time. We’re nearly there. And I just heard from Drysander–they hold strong and have nearly completely rebuilt your brother’s walls and reinforced the soil.”

  The large keep of Rasengrad could actually be seen in the distance, a dozen or so miles away. It was up against a lake and a mountain, as most Aesryn cities or keeps were next to a body of water.

  The Jarl was a pale man, with blue veins that could be seen through his skin, with black hair coming out of his crowned helmet. The Aesryn were a people with high magical potential, usually power over water and ice. “Yes, I see that now. But why did these…untrustworthy fellows have to come join us? What are you playing at, Astalder? We cannot work with them.” He eyed Takoda, Seamus, and Antonius arriving with another figure.

  The Theskarrian man scoffed at him, shouldering his hunting spear as he arrived. His name was Geomarch Darren, the leader of the southern kingdoms. He was stocky, and his skin was bronze like most of his people. “Untrustworthy! We weren’t involved in your sabotage! Haven’t you heard the recordings? I understood it wasn’t your doing from the very beginning. We knew it wasn’t your people’s style.”

  The Geomarch was referring to how both sides had been fooled into believing their counterparts were involved with the sabotage of the other.

  Jarl Eric narrowed his eyes at Darren. “I may trust you, but I don’t trust your seers. They’ll use whatever excuse to push their agendas. It is not beyond them to perform such trickery.”

  Darren scoffed. “Not while we’re both facing invaders. To betray you is to betray ourselves. If nothing else, believe in this alone. In the end, we’re all warriors, are we not?”

  Astalder laughed. “Well said! Even if you are a Greek.”

  Darren growled. “We do not wish to be associated with them. Those miscreants came in like they owned the place, threatening us to dam up the rivers and cut the Aesryn people off, or the attacks on our people would never stop. I told those ankle-winged people to shove it.”

  Astalder gave him a knowing smile. “You don’t say? You hear that, Jarl Eric? Geomarch Darren here didn’t want to sell your people out when it would have been all too easy to block your rivers–a Geomarch can do that, can’t they? That emotion seemed genuine, if you ask me.”

  The southern peoples with the Grecian Origin the Theskar, were somewhat physically superior to the Norse Origin northerners. They would typically have a stout, durable body that thrived in the warm and dangerous jungles of the south.

  The Aesryn were magically superior to the Theskar, except for a few especially gifted with earthen or nature affinities, enabling them powerful control over these elements. The Geomarch was such an elite caster of the Theskarrians, becoming their leader thanks to his greater magical connection to the world.

  Eric frowned at Darren. “Why didn’t you tell us? About their offer.”

  Darren smiled wryly at him. “You think you would have believed us before we had the recordings? Our people don’t get along in the best of times, and it was when your people should be at their strongest that this all began to happen. You’d have been convinced this was another plot, even as you still do.”

  Eric hesitated, and Darren continued, “Sure, it’s usually some hothead at the border who breaks the peace between us, but both sides often use those as excuses to claim more territory of their own. Plenty of grudges to go around, so I focused my people on the inward threats for a time.” He nodded to Antonius and Seamus. “And thanks to these fellows arriving in the nick of time, we didn’t lose our city as you did.”

  Seamus grinned. “Your people fought valiantly. But fortune did favor you that day; there is no question.”

  Antonius chuckled. “That was a rough ride and battle. We lost a quarter of our blimps on the way in, but we managed to hold them off together. Geomarch Darren here is strong when paired up with our Elysian friends.”

  Darren smiled at that. “So if it will convince you to accept our help, I’m fine saying I’m doing this to repay Hearthtribe. But I think we need to stick together against this enemy, Jarl Eric. As warriors of this world, we need to defeat these invaders. Forget the seers, forget the different nation-states or Viking clans. Will you accept my help? You can count on me and my men. And you don’t have to owe us a thing. This is a service to the very world itself, which you know I would never go back against.”

  Jarl Eric looked to the keep in the distance. Even from here, it was easy to see how Rasengrad had been transformed in some way. It no longer had a Viking or Norse theme and instead looked like some kind of crystal palace. As Tartarus liked to do, it likely made it extra difficult for the peoples they stole it from to reclaim it, as if to add insult to injury.

  And Yiming could see the rage build on Jarl Eric’s face, knowing that his keep and city were defiled in this way. He turned to Geomarch Darren with a bitter expression. “These invaders have slain thousands of my people and defiled our home. Will you help us reclaim our home and put their souls to rest? I do believe it is time for our people to seek a lasting peace–knowing such terrible enemies would be happy to take advantage of our weakness.”

  “Agreed. Then let this be our first battle together as brothers.” Darren reached out his arm, and the two clasped forearms.

  Astalder laughed as he set out several kegs from his Storage Ring. “Good! So now these kegs are celebratory beers instead of peacemaking beers! Let’s make camp and plan on moving forward tomorrow morning to begin to reclaim the keep. Now! Who wants to try their might against a true Norseman?”

  Yiming groaned. That was his plan B?

  Longwei chuckled as he rubbed his chin in thought. “That Astalder’s not bad. If he didn’t bring up the difference with the non-native Greeks when he did, that conversation could have gone very differently. Instead, Jarl Eric didn’t have much time to spiral into the hate he may have for the southerners.”

  Yiming sighed. He knew that Longwei was right. And without appearing to be the smart, scheming type that puts people on their guard.

  And as the many warriors started gathering around and making merry, and a watch was set, Yiming couldn’t help but be satisfied with how things had turned out.

  The recordings, combined with them having a mutual enemy and suffering a big loss and humbling, had aided these two peoples in burying the hatchet–at least among these warriors in particular.

  This would also bring them together closer to Hearthtribe and the various allies, so perhaps this small party before the big battle was warranted. It was certainly well earned, as they had been fighting off and on for over a hundred miles of marching against these various spawns and Rift Bosses.

  As his crow beastkin wife, Leanna, flew over with a few mugs full of brew, Yiming knew he also had another struggle of his own for the evening.