Three days had passed since the battle of Lakeshore House put an end to closeted war for the leadership of the Masserlind family. As they had pulled out, Oliver had called out to the surviving member of his uncle’s entourage, bidding them present themselves before him. Following this, a trickle of nervous manservants, maids and other aides emerged from the two side buildings, their heads bowed as they anticipated their imminent punishments. Oliver, however, would preach unity and forgiveness rather than the expected cold retribution of a victor’s dues. The situation was squarely blamed upon the Lingering that had attached to Bertrand, with Oliver stating quite clearly that were his uncle in his right mind then he would never have considered such drastic offenses. The young lord acknowledged the damage caused, and was resolute in the fact that Bertrand would be made to right what had been put wrong. However, that time was not now, the man needed to recover. Oliver finished by ordering the staff to recover any wounded, pack up what they had brought, and return to Cereloss under armed escort. As he marched away at the head of the column his head was held high, with the straight back and wide shoulders of a proud winner. But there was something in his eyes in the one glance black that he allowed himself that spoke of a deeper turmoil that still swirled within his mind.

  It was undeniably noticeable that their numbers had been reduced by the fight. Several members of the Houseguard were lost during their push to reach the main building, as well as their defensive action at the bottom of the stairs. As Raymond had so grimly predicted, the Silver Wolves had also suffered a small number of deaths during their assault of the servant’s quarters during the latter stages of the battle. While the losses were not harsh enough to consider their victory pyrrhic, there was still a heavily emotional blanket that weighed them all down, ensuring any notions of laughter or song were smothered before they could be born.

  Nobody was expecting any great celebration once they returned to Jestriff. Sure enough, there were no cheering crowds lining the road as they made their way towards the gates. The refugee camp had downscaled massively as new jobs and homes took in weary souls, and the first stubborn blades of grass had begun to poke through the muddy churn where tents had stood for months. There was at least a small gathering of notable individuals waiting for them within the estate itself. When they finally came to a halt Oliver immediately dismounted and wrapped himself in Lucille’s embrace, the two sharing a silent minute unaware of the rest of the world. Once he had begrudgingly extracted himself and dismissed the assembled men, the pair quickly disappeared inside, leaving the rest to awkwardly congratulate each other before heading their separate ways. As always, Morgan and Tabitha were waiting for them at the entrance to Osprey Hall, their relieved greetings and news of food ready to be served were most welcome. Finally being home, a wave of tiredness struck the squad as they sat down to eat, and by the time the meal was over each man sought their beds. Alter slept like a log, by the time he woke up the sun was almost at its midday zenith. The only instructions to have arrived in the meantime were to rest and recuperate while the officials and lawmakers began the unenviable task of picking apart the administrative knot that Bertrand had been weaving. It was an order Alter had absolutely no issues with following, and the rest of the squad followed his example with able enthusiasm.

  After two days full rest, the morning of the third saw Alter filled with an intense restlessness. A feeling that he soon discovered that he shared with both Riptide and Boozehound as each man opened their bedroom doors at almost the same moment. With simple nods to each other, the trio slipped out of Osprey Hall and out into the city streets, the sun only just beginning to peek over the horizon as the first workers began to sparsely populate the main roads. Their early morning sojourn led them straight to the temple district, where a certain deity had decided that they had rested enough, and now expected their presence. A shared apprehension meant none of them wanted to be the one to open the way, and for a moment they stood still as the sunlight slowly crept down the building towards them.

  “What do you suppose the big man’s got in store for us?” Riptide asked, a hint of nerves lining each syllable.

  “With any luck? Answers. Objectives, timescales, the reassurance that there is an overarching plan and that we aren’t the pawns of whim.” Alter answered as he frowned at the doors.

  “Along with the promise of being returned home once all this is over, or at least having the choice to.” Boozehound added.

  “Right, right. Erm, how long are we going to stand out here, do you think?”

  Fully aware of the expectant glances the other two gave him, Alter let out a deep sigh and reached out. The doors opened with a now familiar creak, revealing an unchanged space devoid of any worshipers. The only evidence that anyone else ever coming here continued to be the ever-changing basket of freshly cut flowers placed before the altar. There was no heavenly response as they stepped inside, the only noise being the soft claps of their boots against the marble tiles. As they came to a stop before the altar, the physics-bending presence of their patron deity came into immediate effect. Alter’s vision blurred and his ears popped as the world went utterly silent for a moment, returning with a crash as the temple doors slammed shut and locked themselves.

  “That’s new, he’s not affected the world like that in any of our previous interactions.” Boozehound murmured uneasily.

  “Well, he did say that the bond between us was stronger now, it could have something to do with that.” Riptide responded.

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  “He clearly doesn’t want anyone else wandering in, likely with good reason.” Alter pointed past the twin plates towards where the sound of grinding stone began to emanate.

  As if plucked straight from a fantasy novel or videogame, a section of the back wall began to slide downwards, revealing a passageway that quickly curved out of sight. Sensing that they were being beckoned through the hidden doorway, the command team continued their advance. The passageway continued downwards in a smooth spiral going well below street level. There were no torches to irradiate orange light, instead small lenses of translucent blue crystal were set into the walls at regular intervals. Narrow, tube-like holes disappeared upward, where sunlight was directed down to hit the lenses and scatter, bathing the area around them in ethereal, icy light. Eventually, the passage opened up into a lone, circular chamber with a high ceiling studded with the same crystals that lit the space. There was no furniture present, and the only detail to be seen came in the form of an intricate floor mural that depicted the twin eyes of Kalaton amidst a sea of smaller imagery. Feeling that it may be considered somewhat rude to stand on your new god’s face while talking to them, Alter stuck to the edge of the room and waited.

  WELCOME TO THE SANCTUM OF MY TEMPLE. YOU ARE THE FIRST TO SEE ITS LIKE SINCE ITS CONSTRUCTION CENTURIES AGO.

  Alter blinked a couple of times as Kalaton’s voice radiated out from the centre of the room. Having prepared himself for the side-effects of their presence being that much stronger, the fact that there was nothing accompanying his words was a shock in and of itself.

  “We’re honoured to have been granted admittance, and we apologise for not coming sooner.”

  I TAKE NO OFFENCE, THOUGH I ADMIT TO WONDERING WHETHER YOU HAD FORGOTTEN. I APPRECIATE THE FACT THAT TIME IS MUCH MORE IMPORTANT TO YOU THAN IT IS TO ME. AS SUCH LET US GET STRAIGHT TO BUSINESS. YOU MUST HAVE MANY QUESTIONS. WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO BEGIN?

  Now that was an unexpected level of equality, Alter had come in fully expecting to receive a grandiose lecture with the possibility of some quickfire questions at the end. Well, might as well start off with something nice and big. Something that’s been asked before but insufficiently answered.

  “Why did you really bring us here? Beyond the fact that you can only interact with outsiders, or however it was you described it.” He steeled himself and asked.

  THIS WORLD IS SPIRALLING OUT OF CONTROL. THE EIGHT OF YOU SHALL BE MY INSTRUMENT OF CORRECTION. TOGETHER WE SHALL STABILISE THE COURSE.

  “What do you mean by ‘spiralling out of control’? What’s causing this?”

  YOU ARE NOW FAMILIAR WITH THE ENTITIES THAT ARE REFERRED TO AS THE UNREPENTANT. THEIR NUMBERS ARE GROWING AND WILL CONTINUE TO DO SO UNTIL ALL LIFE OF THIS WORLD IS OVERWHELMED. MY APPRENTICES HAVE PROVEN THEMSELVES UNABLE TO REGAIN CONTROL AND I MUST NOW INTERVENE.

  “Woah, woah, slow down!” Riptide held up his arms. “The Unrepentant? Apprentices? Can we start from the beginning, please?”

  Kalaton didn’t answer immediately, and for an anxious moment Alter was worried that they had offended him somehow. But contrary to his fears, the god struck up the conversation again after a moment of consideration.

  THIS WORLD WAS CREATED TO BE A TEST. I BELIEVED MY APPRENTICES, NEROTHYLL AND SIRRITHAE, CAPABLE OF MAINTAINING LIFE WITHOUT MY IMMEDIATE SUPERVISION. ONCE I HAD SEEDED THIS PLACE WITH LIFE TAILORED TO THEIR REQUESTS, I VOWED TO MERELY OBSERVE.

  “And now your apprentices have failed the test?”

  THEY HAVE NOT YET FAILED. I WAS PREMATURE IN ASSUMING THEY WERE READY FOR THIS RESPONSIBILITY. IT IS A MENTOR’S DUTY TO GUIDE AND CORRECT THEIR CHARGES. I AM DOING THIS NOW.

  Needing to digest whatever all this meant, Alter fell silent. Boozehound, though, felt the need to keep pushing for further details.

  “You mentioned the reason for the spiral being the Unrepentant. We know that they are created by Mullisvar, but I notice you haven’t mentioned them at all. Why is that?”

  WHAT YOU CALL MULLISVAR IS NOT LIKE US. NOT A BEING, MERELY A RESULT THAT REQUIRES DELICATE HANDLING. WHERE THERE IS LIFE, THERE IS DEATH. IN THEIR EAGERNESS AND NAIVE ENTHUSIASM, MY APPRENTICES CONTINUED TO PROPAGATE LIFE AT A RATE I WOULD NOT HAVE ADVISED. WITH SO MUCH LIFE COMES SO MUCH DEATH. MULLISVAR HAS OUTGROWN THEM.

  “From what we’ve been told, the Unrepentant are created when a dead individual refuses to apologise for the grievances their dead acquaintances levy against them. So is it just a simple case of there being too many people alive? You’re not going to order us to start culling the global population, are you?” Alter demanded.

  I WOULD NOT ASK YOU TO DO SUCH A THING. NEITHER DO I BELIEVE THAT SUCH DRASTIC ACTIONS WILL BE NECESSARY. MULLISVAR IS BEING INTERFERED WITH. CHORUS MEMBERS WITH STRONG GRIEVANCES ARE NOT FADING ONCE HEARD. THEY REMAIN. FORCE THEMSELVES INTO OTHER CHORUSES TO THEN BARE THEIR ACCUSATIONS AT THE INNOCENT. MULLISVAR IS BLIND TO THESE INTRUSIONS. WHEN THE INNOCENT CRY OUT IN DENIAL THEY ARE TREATED LIKE ANY OTHER UNREPENTANT.

  “What?” Riptide asked, confused.

  “It’s like a rigged courtroom. Someone or something is planting bad faith actors in the jury, resulting in innocent people being convicted for crimes they didn’t commit. Only in this case they don’t go to prison, they come back as invisible, indiscriminate killing machines.” Boozehound explained.

  “Then the reason we’re here is to find and remove whatever is interfering with the choruses. Do you have any clues?

  THAT IS CORRECT. I HAVE NOT YET FOUND THE SOURCE OF THE INTRUSIONS. BUT AS SOON AS I DO YOU SHALL BE UTILISED TO YOUR FULL EFFECT. DO YOU FIND THIS AGREEABLE?

  Alter allowed himself a smile as he looked up to the ceiling of the sanctum.

  “But of course, we are at your disposal.”