Enemies Among Us

The day was going along how it usually did, Serilda finding herself, as always, sitting at her desk behind a mountain of paperwork. While there certainly had been much going on over the last several months, most of what she and Mythal were directly involved in was the war efforts. Trying to keep the country together was a chore and a half on its own, and trying to keep on top of everything when she was getting pulled in fifty different directions was a joke at best. At this point, her and Mythal’s wedding had been indefinitely postponed, simply because they didn’t have the time to get married. Between the war, secretly investigating the Magic Council, and taking care of toddlers, their lives were pretty much full blown insanity.

And that wasn’t even included other stuff that they were indirectly involved in. Mercury and Vandrad were shoulders deep in dealing with Maker, the Dread Masters, and trying to provide for the citizens of New Rhaegar. Scourge was their eye in the field for such things as well, of course, but he was still taking care of things that Serilda and Mythal could not. The Rune Knight leaders were simply too high profile, which meant that for a lot of the more personal dramas in their lives, they were more or less forced to take a passive back seat role and wait for everyone else to bring things together and update them. It was infuriating at times, because Serilda wanted to help… but at the same time, she knew that they each had their roles to play and hers did not allow her as much freedom to be involved as she would have liked.

Currently, she was waiting for Mythal to join her so they could go to their next meeting together. It was a private meeting with a citizen, which wasn’t common but not unheard of. The person was supposedly an eye witness from the catastrophe in Joya, claiming to have sensitive information that they would only share with Serilda and Mythal. Whoever they were, the meeting was going to go one of two ways: either they were full of shit and just looking for some publicity, which would not be met favorably, or they actually had critical information to share. Serilda wasn’t going to be thrilled if this wound up being a waste of her time, but with the current state of the world they couldn’t afford to not explore every lead. So, the appointment had been approved.

Once Mythal joined her in her office, Serilda would pack up her files and lock them away in the secure drawer in her desk. “I can’t decide what I’d more prefer,” the noblewoman told him with a sigh as she stood and took a moment to stretch out her back. “For this to actually be intelligence worth our while, or to be a frustrating waste of my time that at least doesn’t give me a bigger headache…”

Once he was ready they made their way through headquarters toward the room that had been booked, with Xiuhcoatl trotting obediently at Serilda’s heels. Before long, they found themselves on the ground level in the entry foyer where Valorie was sitting at the front desk. “Is our three o’clock here, yet?”

“Yes, my lady. She arrived a few minutes ago. Room four.”

“Thank you.”

Leading the way, Serilda found the appropriate interview room and with a quick glance at Mythal to silently say here we go opened the door and stepped within. The woman was sitting at the desk passing the time with her iLac, but turned her head up immediately upon their entry and smiled, causing Serilda to stop almost dead in her tracks at the sight of the familiar redhead. “Morgaine..?”

The Ozorith loyalist stood to her feet, setting her phone down for the moment. “My lady. And Director Ragnos.” Morgaine bowed deeply to them both before straightening herself again. “A pleasure to see you both again. I trust you two have been doing well? Or at least, as well as you can be, given everything I am sure is on your plates during this chaotic time. I know this is a bit late, but seeing as how we have not crossed paths in quite some time: congratulations on the births of your daughters! I’ve seen pictures here and there in various news outlets. They are quite darling!”

“Well, yes… but also, not entirely?” The redhead gave a small shrug. “It would be more accurate to say that I was sent by one of his agents, at my lord’s request. I do apologize for deceiving you and your employees to arrange the meeting, but it was either I found a time and place to approach you or you would have received a… more spontaneous visit from either him or another demon. Jareth felt that this was the best approach that would result in the least hostility.”

Serilda frowned. “Jareth?”

“One of Lord Ozorith’s archdemons. The Omen of Resolution, specifically, and I guess you can consider him my patron in my lord’s court. He was the one that approached me to facilitate the pact for my helping you locate your sister, actually.” Morgaine nodded toward Mythal.

The voidwalker gave Mythal a brief glance. This was the first time Serilda was hearing of Ozorith having archdemons, but then again it wasn’t like she had gone out of her way to delve too much into the Sin of Wrath’s affairs – even though she probably should have. But Ozorith had been true to his word for the most part about leaving her alone and letting her do her own thing. It simply wasn’t something she’d ever questioned, particularly since she’d never heard Ruzatz mention having any archdemon generals.

She turned back to Morgaine and silently gestured for the woman to sit back down, Serilda joining her across the table where there were two seats waiting for her and Mythal. “Well, I suppose you have us, now. Please, proceed.”

Morgaine gracefully took her chair, maintaining the same friendly mannerisms they would recall from their last encounter with her. “Lord Ozorith is hoping the two of you can make some time to meet with him as soon as possible. News has come to his attention regarding Faera that he wishes to pass along, and it sounds as though it is of the utmost urgency. You certainly don’t need to drop everything you are doing right this minute, but I was informed to encourage you to consider making time tonight, if at all possible.”

Serilda lifted a hand to rub her forehead gently. “Great. That’s all we need is more problems with Faera on top of everything else we’re already dealing with.”

“Yes, I am sure the war has the both of you running ragged. I can’t imagine the unbelievable stress the two of you are under. Felidae alone was… truly heartbreaking. And sickening.” A small wave of sorrow washed over her face, the woman taken by a brief moment of genuine compassion as she recalled the tragedy. “I hope you are able to track down the people responsible and bring them to justice.”

“We are certainly doing our best.” The noblewoman had earnestly forgotten all this time how… conflicted Morgaine made her feel. She reminded Serilda a lot of Agatha in many ways, very sweet and kind with a bit of mischievous humor, but certainly nothing like the kind of follower Serilda could imagine Ozorith amassing. It was jolting, to say the least. “So, what is he proposing? Should we plan to expect him or this Jareth at our home later?”

“Oh no, the information is far too classified to risk telling it anywhere on Earthland, from what I have been led to understand. My lord is inviting the two of you to meet with him in Kingdom Frostbane. Discussion can be had there freely, without any worry of spies. He is prepared to host dinner, and hopes to also take the time to introduce you to Jareth and the other Omens. Jareth is prepared to meet you at a secure location of your choosing to escort you to the realm.”

The noblewoman gave a soft sigh through her nostrils, then turned to Mythal. “What do you think? I’m certainly not thrilled at the idea of returning to Frostbane, but it does seem the safest option for the topic at hand. As much as I hate him, I can’t imagine he’d pitch this idea if it weren’t important.” At the end of the day, Mythal was the one who had to live most directly with the consequences of Faera’s actions, so any news about the goddess was worth hearing, even if the source was less than ideal.

Presuming he didn’t voice any objections, Serilda would nod and return her attention to Morgaine, who waited patiently with a pleasant smile on her face, no matter what disrespectful comments were voiced toward the Prime Sin. “Very well. Inform Jareth that he can meet us at our home here in Era.”

Morgaine’s smile brightened. “Excellent! I will let him know right away. Just call his name when you are ready.”

Serilda nodded. “We shall. Thank you, Morgaine.” Assuming the meeting was over, the noblewoman began to rise from her seat.

“Actually, if I might take up.. Just another moment of your time..?” The marshal paused briefly before slowly sitting back in her seat. “Thank you. I will try to be brief. I had a personal matter I wished to discuss with you, entirely unrelated to Lord Ozorith. I know this would usually be done through other channels in your organization, but considering your knowledge of who I am and my associations, I thought it wise to bring the matter to you directly: I would like to join the Rune Knights.”

Mythal’s opinion of the proposed meeting didn’t exactly surprise Serilda. Her fiance voiced that he was less inclined to share a dinner with the man, much preferring the idea of getting there, getting the information they needed, and getting out. But, he knew the kind of games that Ozorith wanted to play and understood that if they didn’t play along to some extent it would only be detrimental to them in some fashion. Considering it was about Faera, it was best to suck it up for a night and move on.

As such the agreement was made, with Morgaine giving them instructions on how to get in contact with Jareth. With that all set, it seemed as though their meeting was over, only for Morgaine to entreate a little bit more of their time. The Rune Knight leaders sat back down, and it did not take long for the woman to get to the point. With only a small amount of prefacing why she was approaching the two of them, rather than someone else in the military, she expressed her interest in joining the Rune Knights.

Even as Mythal barked out a laugh, Serilda frowned at Morgaine in a mixture of confusion and wariness. Morgaine merely remained sitting patiently with a small smile on her face, clearly having expected this type of reaction. She waited until Mythal stopped laughing and looked at her, remarking his surprise that she was serious. He immediately denied the request, on the grounds that she worked for Ozorith, asking why they would ever let anyone who works for the Prime Sin of Wrath to join the Knights and risk feeding information back to him.

“Well, it certainly didn’t seem too far out of the question, considering that the Rune Knights are led by someone who works directly for Ozorith, is it not? And in a position that far outranks my own.” Morgaine offered the man a small smirk, though it was more teasing than smug.

Serilda shifted uncomfortably. “A fair point… though you are far more dedicated and loyal to the man than I am.”

Morgaine shrugged. “I have my reasons, same as you have your own.”

“Well, Mythal does bring up a valid concern: What would stop you from giving sensitive information to Ozorith and his forces?”

The redhead tilted her head a little. “I think you believe myself more involved with him than I am. Jareth granted me powers at a time when I needed them, and as such earned my loyalty toward his lordship, but I do not keep in regular contact with him, and I have never spoken directly to Ozorith. In fact, after the first time I met with Jareth, I did not speak with him again until he arranged my meeting with the two of you prior in Morgate Town, and then again now. I am not even a member of the Blighted.”

“The Blighted?”

“The inner membership of his following; those mortal members that are more active in enacting Ozorith’s will on Earthland.”

Well, that was an uncomfortable thought. Though she supposed that if Faera had followers along the Immortal Thirteen, it stood to reason that Ozorith and the rest of the Primes and Divines shared similar structures. Serilda sighed softly at the thought before pressing on. “Be that as it may, our question remains unanswered.”

“Oh! My apologies. Not that you have any reason to take my word for it, I suppose, but you are free to utilize a lie detection device on me if you wish. I imagine you have them. If you do not wish me to speak with Ozorith or his agents of Rune Knight matters, then I will not.”

“As simple as that?”

“As simple as that. To begin with, I doubt that I would have access to truly sensitive information for some time, if ever, no? It’s not like every soldier becomes a high ranking officer. Even then, the way I see it, serving you is another way of serving Ozorith, as you are his Sword. I would consider it a great honor.”

Serilda frowned. “So you want to join the Rune Knights because you think doing so is a gesture of your loyalty to Ozorith?”

Morgaine chuckled lightly. “It would be more accurate to say that it would be a fine added bonus.”

“Then why do you wish to join?”

This was the only time in the meeting so far that the redhead expressed a look of genuine surprise, looking between the two. “Well, I had assumed that would be obvious, though I suppose I should have guessed that you’d expect an ulterior motive. To put it plainly: The world is in chaos. We are all on the cusp of a world war that has already claimed millions of innocent lives, and will continue to do so. I do not wish to sit by and watch. I want to help see justice realized, and protect those who still remain. Would it not be irresponsible of me to not take steps to do my part? There is only so much I can do on my own. But I can add my strength to that of the Rune Knights, which would allow me more avenues to help directly.”

“So please, feel free to interview me as you wish. I am sure you have plenty of questions you’d like to ask, and as I said I am happy to submit to any tests that might verify my answers. I am prepared to tell you anything you wish to know.”

Serilda reached out and took hold of Mythal’s hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. She didn’t have to be an empath to sense that he was annoyed by the implication that she was loyal to Ozorith, and she was of course grateful that he wanted to defend her, but there simply wasn’t a point in wasting the energy to get angry over it.

Of course, that didn’t help calm the man much over the course of the discussion. Serilda asked her questions and then turned to Mythal, who looked about as pleased as a bear that had gotten a little too curious about a porcupine. Without hiding his dislike of the situation, he informed Serilda that Morgaine was telling the truth, as much as that frustrated him, meaning she either had quite the protective enchantment or was truly being genuine. Considering that the two of them had personally overseen the magical protections in these interview rooms, the chances of Morgaine successfully having an enchantment that allowed her to fib without getting caught was slim to none.

Serilda regarded the woman quietly, as did Mythal for a moment. When he did speak again, he informed Morgaine that there was a lot of paperwork to be done as well as background checking that would give them every single detail about her past. Working himself up again, he started a comment about her criminal record before calming. All the while, Morgaine continued to regard him in quiet and attentive patience, though her expression was still more on the sober side since her speech about why she wanted to join.

She listened silently as he explained that his annoyance wasn’t at her, specifically, so much as with Ozorith. He simply didn’t trust the demon, and as such found it difficult to trust anyone associated with him. Mythal corrected Morgaine’s view of Serilda’s affiliation with the Sin, saying that while she held a position in his court she did not belong to the man. With a resigned sigh, he turned to his fiancee and told her that he was going to have to leave the decision up to her, admitting he would be unable to make a decision without bias.

Silence filled the small room for a moment as Serilda weighed her own thoughts. It certainly wasn’t an ideal situation, but her opinion of the woman continued to be muddied by the fact that everything about Morgaine simply didn’t scream being the type of woman that would be so dedicated to someone like Ozorith. It simply didn’t make any sense. Something wasn’t adding up.

It was Morgaine that broke the silence, smiling once more though this time the expression was more on the wry side. “Would you like to know why I choose to worship Ozorith?”

The voidwalker looked at the woman, exchanging a quick glance with Mythal before looking back. “If that is something you are comfortable sharing.”

“It is not my favorite memory, but… perhaps it will provide you both with some clarity as to my perspective.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands gently together, blue eyes flicking between the two Knights calmly as she spoke. “I certainly won’t deny having a criminal past, particularly seeing as how I was a criminal when we met; details you already have. Petty crimes, for the most part. However, the story related to how I became devoted to Ozorith is not one that you will find in my criminal record, nor any background check – mostly because I was never caught. And that particular crime was murder in the first degree.”

Serilda frowned slightly, but her tone remained neutral as she asked, “Who did you kill?”

“A member of Fiore’s lower nobility, a viscount by the name of Roman Alnwick.”

“Viscount Alnwick? I remember hearing about his death. They said he died of natural causes.”

“Well, I did cover my tracks exceptionally well.” It was not a brag so much as a statement of fact. Adjusting herself in her seat, Morgaine continued. “I was born in Minstrel to a very poor family in servitude to a lord and lady whose lavish lifestyle was quickly catching up to them. They spent more than they could afford attempting to fit in with the Minstrelian way of life, and were on the verge of bankruptcy. My parents overheard them making plans to sell of some of the servants’ children as slaves to help clear some of their debts, and so my mother and father smuggled my sister and I out of the country before such a fate could befall us. I was sixteen at the time, and Lorelai was twelve.”

“Being the eldest, it fell upon me to protect and take care of my sister and ensure that she was provided for. I found work with Viscount Alnwick, who agreed to pay me an honest wage in exchange for standard manual labor. For a time, everything was perfect. The work wasn’t exactly glorious, but I made enough to feed and clothe my sister, and we were given housing with other servants in the manor. All our needs were being met. But after a while, my sister began to change.”

Morgaine’s face fell slightly, a bit of sorrow seeping into her expression. “She started to have these.. Irrational responses to everyday situations, while also going through long episodes of severe depression. It wasn’t until I caught him in the act, entirely by accident, that I realized he was… hurting her in secret. I tried to fight him, of course, but I had no magic and no training, and he easily overwhelmed me. He told me that if I didn’t continue to be obedient, that my sister would pay the price with her life.”

“That did not fully stop me, of course. I was determined to get us out of that situation by any means necessary, so I did what any law abiding citizen would do and I snuck away to report the matter to the Rune Knights. I left that night thinking that we would be protected. Instead, by the time I returned to the castle, Roman was waiting for me, already fully aware of what I had done. Turns out, he had been paying off the local garrison for years.”

She took a breath to steady her anger, the old wound rising from the grave as she reopened it before them. Finding her emotional center, she cleared her throat and carried on. “I was severely beaten, and made to watch as he harmed her again… and then he killed her. He had me locked up and chained in a stock room for some time. I don’t know what his plans were for me. I know only that I said for days, seething in sorrow and heartache… and rage.”

“And that was when Jareth appeared. He had sensed my desire for wrath and it had called for him to seek it out, the demon easily able to bypass the weak enchantments on the manor to discover me within. He told me of his master and the cause they represented, and offered me power – which I used to break free. I sought the viscount and killed him in his sleep utilizing the magics I had been given, making it appear that he had passed away naturally… and then I ran. With nowhere else to go, I turned to a life of crime more or less out of necessity. Not a lot of people were willing to hire immigrants, back then, particularly a minor. I also despised the Knights with a passion after what they had done. Suffice to say, when many of the Rune Knight were killed during that attack on Era a few years back, I didn’t exactly shed any tears.”

Morgaine looked up at the two of them again. “I am loyal to Ozorith and his following because they gave me the strength to protect myself when the law failed in its duty to protect me and my sister, and I was never asked for a single thing in return except to use my gifts as I saw fit. Wrath in and of itself is not evil. It comes as easily to good men as to bad ones, and therein lies the reason why Ozorith is so powerful. He does not have to draw from only one side of humanity, as Lady Serilda herself is an example of. After all, the entire goal of the Knights is to seek and enact justice, and what is wrath except a type of justice?”

“I did not pay much attention to the Rune Knights again until after the both of you took over. You very quickly cleaned house, and a number of remaining Knights that I had observed to be corrupt found themselves not just out of a job, but oftentimes under arrest. There was less tolerance for unlawful behavior, and a noticeable effort toward maintaining integrity – the kind of integrity that wasn’t merely for show. Whatever the Rune Knights were when they failed my sister and I…. it is not who they are now. It is certainly not perfect… rooting out all corruption is impossible. But it is… better. I trust the two of you to do everything in your considerable power to keep it that way. And if you are willing to see the gray between the black and white, and choose to not dismiss me based on assumptions drawn from who I associate with, I believe that I could make myself a valuable asset to you.”

There was silence for a long moment as the pair processed the story. When Serilda spoke, her voice was on the quiet said as she told the woman, “I am truly sorry for what happened to your sister. If you happen to remember any of the Knights involved at the time, I would be happy to ensure that the accusations are brought to light.”

“Thank you… but not necessary. As far as I am aware, those that survived the battle of Era were eventually fired not too long later, I imagine due to uncovering other misdeeds.”

Serilda gave Mythal a significant look and sighed. “Perhaps we allow her to go through the application process and, if accepted, she is subject to a probationary period of some sort..?”

The honest truth was that Serilda was equally displeased with this entire situation, for many of the same reasons that Mythal was. However, the noblewoman had many more years and much more practice at keeping her emotions in check. And in many ways, she was better at being more objective than Mythal was, though sometimes that depended on the circumstances. It wasn’t like Serilda claimed to be perfect. She knew she had a temper, and while she was able to control it most days there had certainly been times that she had not been very good at doing so.

But while their worldviews and philosophies certainly clashed in a couple of areas, there was no denying that Morgaine was, at the very least, trying to go through the right channels to do the right thing. Whether or not she was truly up for the lifestyle of a soldier remained to be seen, but as much as she wanted to, Serilda simply couldn’t find the grounds to at least deny her a chance. She could, however, make sure Morgaine knew that she would have to work a fair amount harder than the other recruits to earn any shred of trust from the two military leaders. As such, she proposed a probationary period for the woman, providing that Morgaine passed all the other areas of the application process. Mythal wasn’t thrilled with it, but he relented, standing to go get the necessary documents from Valorie, likely needing an excuse to leave the room for a few minutes.

Morgaine watched him leave before returning her attention to Serilda. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” was Serilda’s only dry remark. Shaking her head softly, she continued. “Your probationary period will last for one year, should you be accepted for basic training, at the end of which we will determine if we will allow you to remain among our ranks. You will be stationed here at headquarters and given housing in the barracks with the other recruits. Under the terms of your probation, you will be subject to weekly evaluations with your superior officer, and monthly evaluations with either myself or Mythal. As per the terms of this agreement, you are not allowed to communicate, in any form, about anything pertaining to the Rune Knights with Ozorith or anyone associated with him. And while this would normally break all sorts of human resource policies… you are forbidden from speaking about Ozorith or any parts of your faith and experiences pertaining to him and his brood; I do not wish for any of my men to be tainted by his influence. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am. You have my word.”

Serilda wasn’t entirely sure how much that truly meant, and the look in her eyes said as much… but Morgaine had not been lying so far, so it was unlikely she would start now. Mythal eventually returned with the needed paperwork, and from there the duo would let one of the recruitment agents take over to handle the rest of the process, so they could return to their own duties.

Though there was only a couple hours left of the day, the remainder of the afternoon felt like it was crawling. Neither of them were particularly happy to have such unpleasant things sprung at them so last minute, but it could hardly be helped. When the day was over, they finally returned home, Serilda allowing herself to relieve some stress by spending some time with her girls, who always brought a smile to her face. Her love for her daughters far outweighed her hatred of Ozorith and his ilk. However, neither of them wanted to delay the meeting too long, if only because they wanted to get the meeting over and done with.

Once they were just about ready, Serilda took a moment to pull Mythal aside, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her forehead gently against his. “I know this is going to be frustrating, but try not to let him get to you, if you can. It won’t do us any good, anyhow. Whatever happens, let just.. Do our best to be the better people and get through it with our dignities intact. His time will come.” She cupped his cheek with one of her hands and gave him a soft kiss. Then, in an effort to lighten the mood, Serilda leaned back and gave him a little smirk. “Maybe if you’re still aggravated by the time we get back home, I’ll let you use all that pent up energy to put another baby in me.”

She had been teasing him for a while now about having another kid, and while it perhaps wasn’t the most appropriate topic given everything ahead of them for the evening, she figured they deserved a break in the tension. “You ready?”

Assuming he relented, Serilda would give the girls a kiss and leave them in the capable hands of their house staff. The wolves would also be left behind to help care for the girls while they were gone, Serilda not seeing a point in stressing the animals out by subjecting them to the Prime Sin. Situating themselves in the great room, the noblewoman sighed and steadied herself. “Jareth.”

Only a moment later, a man materialized in the room before them. The man that had bestowed Morgaine her powers was very tall, standing just under six and a half feet, with features not unlike the elves that hailed from Seven, with tapered ears and sharp features that gave him almost an ageless appearance. His skin was pale, with golden eyes, red tribal markings on his cheeks, and a blue crescent moon on his forehead. Jareth had long white hair and was dressed in an armored kimono reminiscent of Midian samurai, with two sheathed swords tucked into his obi. A thick shawl of some kind of fur was draped elegantly around one of his shoulders like a cape. He wore a neutral expression as he regarded the two of them, his gaze glancing only briefly to observe his surroundings before settling upon them once more.

“Lady Serilda, Lord Mythal.” His tone was respectful, or at the very least not disrespectful, speaking in a soft baritone. Though his manners did very little to keep Serilda’s hair from standing on end, the woman’s instincts sensing how much of a danger the archdemon had the potential to be despite the fact that he was not speaking or acting with any aggression. Though he was quiet and collected, there was a sharp intelligence in his eyes that betrayed his power. “I am Jareth, the Omen of Resolution. I am ready to escort you to Kingdom Frostbane at your leisure.”

“Thank you, Jareth. We are ready to depart.”

The archdemon gave a nod of understanding. “If you would, please place one of your hands upon my shoulders.”

Serilda flicked her gaze briefly to Mythal but otherwise did as Jareth asked without comment, stepping forward and setting her hand upon one of his shoulders as instructed. Once they were both situated, the demon whisked them into the demonic plane in the blink of an eye, their home disappearing and being replaced with the grand foyer of Ozorith’s castle. The structure was as Serilda remembered it, with the floor, walls, and ceilings all intricately crafted of pure ice. Despite this, Mythal would find it not much more chilly, temperature wise, than a crisp fall evening.

“Oh, Mythal! Serilda!”

A familiar voice caught Serilda by surprise as she turned to see another couple approaching them: Ruzatz and Agatha. The Hand was dressed somewhat casually in a nice pair of red slacks and a long sleeved sweater with a plunge neckline. While the voidwalker hadn’t been prepared for their friends to be joining them, she couldn’t deny the relief she felt at having some friends present. “Well, this is a surprise. Hello, you two.”

Jareth waited patiently with his hands clasped gently behind his back as the four greeted one another. Agatha gave each of them a hug, her usual bright and smiling self, despite the circumstances under which they were meeting. “Yes, well… I guess whatever Lord Ozorith discovered, he felt it was imperative that Ruzatz and I be part of the briefing.”

“Oh, stop..!” Serilda told him, a bright red blush rushing to her cheeks as he remarked back to the night of Halloween when he’d drank an enchanted punch that had turned him into a woman temporarily. He turned it right around and told her that he’d be happy to grow their family by any number of children she wanted once all the stress from the war and everything was settled. Still blushing profusely, her smile turned into a smirk. “Careful, I might wind up taking you up on that.”

The trip to Frostbane was quick and seamless, the Rune Knight couple greeted upon their arrival by the most unexpected of allies. As always, Ruzatz and Agatha were both stunning beyond belief, though truthfully the demon was all too in his element. Forcing herself to keep her eyes modest, Serilda smiled and embraced them both, giving a soft chuckle when Ruzatz joked about not having anyone to use as a scapegoat for leaving the dinner early. Mythal volunteered Vandrad, which earned another collective chuckle from the group.

Only once their greetings were out of the way did Jareth step forward, bowing his head to Ruzatz. “Lord Ruzatz. Mistress Agatha. Thank you for coming.”

Agatha smiled at the demon. “It is good to see you again, Jareth. I trust you have been well?” It was interesting to note that the Hand’s attitude toward the Omen seemed almost favorable, her regards to him genuine enough. Wherever Jareth stood in the hierarchy, it was clear that he was on at least friendly terms with the other Prime Sin and his wife. Whether or not they had shared any… relations with the archdemon was anyone’s guess, but the exchange was noteworthy, nonetheless.

In fact, he even cracked the smallest of smiles. “I have been, yes. Thank you for asking. If all of you would please follow me, I’ll-”

“Well, apparently we’re just letting anyone in these days, aren’t we?”

All attention was drawn to the source of the somewhat nasally voice, where they would find two individuals lingering slightly further in the foyer. The one that had spoken was another Elvish figure, though he was much smaller in stature than Jareth. His hair was also white, but he had piercing blue eyes and wore a colorful Sevenese inspired outfit with gold bracers and a gold brooch on his shoulder. There were tribal tattoo markings on his exposed shoulder, and his face was currently sporting a deeply arrogant smirk as he floated in the air in a cross legged sitting position.

Besides him was a woman with short lilac colored hair and dark eyes. She was dressed in a suit of pink and light purple armor that left the top portions of her thighs showing. A longsword was strapped to her hip, and she bore an equally insufferable smile on her face, though something in her eyes seemed a bit more… wild… than that of her companion. “It’s an entire infestation of mortals. Someone must have forgotten to close a door somewhere.”

Serilda fixed an icy glare upon the new figures. Their very presence raked across her senses like nails on a chalkboard, putting her immediately on edge. Even Agatha’s expression had soured, while Jareth straightened himself up with the slightest of sighs through his nostrils. From the weight of demonic power she could feel from them, she could only assume that these were two more of Ozorith’s Omens. It was only a moment later when Victoria spoke within her mind, confirming it. The male is Cain, Omen of Contempt. The other is Eden, Omen of Passion. They rank somewhere in the middle of Ozorith’s archdemons.  

Cain caught her stare and perked up considerably, his smirk widening. “Ah, look, Eden! How intimidating. This one must be Ozorith’s newest pet. How long until he breaks her, do you think?”

Eden eyed Serilda slowly like she was little more than a slice of meat waiting to be cooked and served. “Well, if the rumors are to be believed, she’s a bit of a spitfire. Maybe he’ll get to have a little more fun with this one, draw her out a bit. What do you think, Jareth?”

The Omen of Resolution said nothing, a bored look on his face as he glanced at them, unimpressed with their behaviors. “Lord Ruzatz,” he said without turning away from the other two, “I know it has been some time since your last visit to Frostbane. Please allow me to remind you that, as an honored guest, you are within your rights to exercise your power as you see fit in response to insults against yourself, your wife, and your friends. There are no protections afforded to those who disregard my Lord’s expectation of hospitality, no matter how highly they regard themselves.”

Passion scoffed even as Contempt rolled his eyes. “Always the killjoy. Fine. Let’s go.”

The pair turned to leave, but not before Eden tossed Jareth a haughty sneer. “Mortal sympathizer.” She spat at his feet.

At the sound of Jareth coolly unsheathing one of his swords, the ringing metal reverberating off the icy walls, Eden and Cain disappeared from sight, leaving only a wisp of blackened frost and an echo of laughter in their wake. They were gone before the archdemon had finished withdrawing his weapon. Slowly, he lowered it back into its casing. “Pay them no mind. To call them foolish would be a colossal understatement. They will be dealt with.” His comment did not bode well for the other Omens, but he would be hard pressed to find a shred of sympathy among the group for them.

“Thank you, Jareth.”

“Don’t mention it. Shall we? It is best not to keep my Lord waiting.”

With no reason to linger, Jareth led them through the hallways and deeper into the castle until they arrived at a more informal dining room. While the structure itself was still crafted from ice, the furniture and decor of the room were not. A rectangular table that could probably seat eight people had been set for five, the piece intricately carved from wood. The chairs were also wood, with high backs and padded leather seats. A large, finely woven rug sat beneath the set up, protecting the floor from the legs of the furniture.

On either side of the table, slightly behind it, stood Ozorith, Eden, Cain, and two other women. One had golden eyes and wore an outfit in similar style and color scheme as Cain’s, almost a toga like outfit with gold armoring and jewelry. Her skin had a blush tint to it, her long silvery hair pulled back into a ponytail. A whip was coiled at her side. The other woman was taller even than Jareth, towering over everyone else in the room, with thick red hair and tanned skin. She was dressed more like she was planning on going to the desert, with a colorful crop top and skirt combination that left her mass of rock hard muscles on full display. She sported tapered ears like Cain and Jareth, an assortment of jewelry, and regarded the room with attentive green eyes.

Both women were watching the scene before them with thinly veiled smirks. Ozorith was standing over Eden and Cain, both of whom were down upon a knee looking far more humble than they had been only a minute or so ago. Cain’s face was turned slightly and the side of his face was beginning to redden.

Jareth strolled confidently forward, unbothered by the display. “My lord, your guests have arrived.”

Ozorith straightened himself out. “How fortuitous for the both of you.” With a wave of his hand, the Omens stood and hurried to take up their posts while the other two ladies on the other side snickered quietly to themselves. The Prime turned to them and approached with a smile. “Well, it has been quite some time, hasn’t it? Serilda, Mythal, congratulations on your little ones.” He was dressed in a pair of black slacks with a white button up shirt beneath a brown vest with a camel colored blazer.

“Thank you.” Serilda truly wasn’t interested in making small talk with Ozorith, particularly about her children, but thankfully he didn’t seem to be interested in that. It was… odd, actually. He was still himself, carrying himself as self assured and pompous as ever, but there was something behind his smile. Not any kind of deceit, as there usually was, but rather it felt like he was… distracted?

He moved along to the others. “Ruzatz, thank you for agreeing to come. And Agatha. Always a… pleasure.” He gave the woman a small bow, offering up his hand. The red head accepted it coolly, still smiling pleasantly, though perhaps not with as much bubbliness as she typically displayed with others, as he took the limb and kissed the back of her palm.

“Thank you for having us, Lord Ozorith,” was her only neutral response.

Ozorith released her hand with the smallest of smirks before turning to another figure that had been standing near the table: A younger man, he wore no shirt. Only a pair of baggy black pants and a brown cape that was wrapped around his shoulders. There were red tattoos like tribal markings all over his face and torso, and he had long shaggy black hair with piercing hazel eyes. “Varro, if you would.”

The man bowed. “Yes, my lord.” With that, he exited out another door from which wafted the smell of freshly cooked food.

“Now, before we get started, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me for a moment.” Ozorith set his gaze upon Serilda and Mythal, though more so on the former, gesturing to the demons that had taken up their posts along the back wall. “I have never had the chance to introduce you to the Omens. They may reach out to you from time to time, so it is best that you receive a formal introduction.”

Serilda wasn’t terribly thrilled by the idea, though she kept such thoughts hidden behind a neutral mask. At the very least, it was a good opportunity to know the identities of her potential enemies. “Very well.”

“You’ve already met Jareth. This is Cain, Omen of Contempt, and Eden, Omen of Passion.” He indicated the two archdemons that had confronted them in the foyer, both of which were having difficulty making eye contact, as they nursed their wounded prides and simmered in angry silence.

“Ah, so this is what they look like. I only remember seeing their backsides as they fled from Ruzatz with their tail between their legs.” Normally Serilda wouldn’t have been so rude as to kick people while they were down, but clearly Ozorith was already aware of what had transpired. Plus, the two had hardly given her any reason to be polite to them.

Eden’s face flushed with red hot anger, an almost crazed look in her eyes as she snapped them upon the Sword. Cain’s reaction wasn’t quite as unhinged, but there was a simmering loathing in his gaze that promised he was going to do everything in his power to be a pain in Serilda’s ass from here on out. The other two women didn’t even bother to cover their smirks, even as Ozorith chuckled merrily. “Yes, well, they would be wise to pick their fights more carefully.”

Moving on, he turned toward the two remaining Omens. He gestured first toward the redhead. “This is Brione, Omen of Spite, and Shiloh, Omen of Retribution.”

“A pleasure to meet you both.”
“Greetings, mortals.”

“This is Serilda, my Sword, and her fiance Mythal. I expect all of you to play nice with them both. I have no doubt that they will not hesitate to deliver any needed… attitude adjustments… in the future.” His gaze flicked meaningfully to Eden and Cain, who conveniently avoided making eye contact with them.

Jareth raised a brow. “No Oblivion today, my lord?”

“She is focused on a far more important, related task. I will simply have to introduce her at another time.”

Resolution nodded his understanding and took his place in line between Eden and Shiloh. Meanwhile, Ozorith motioned toward the table where Varro had returned and was setting down plates with some kind of prime steak cutlets, cooked slices of potatoes that had been richly seasoned and drizzled with a thin layer of cheese, and a medley of vegetables. “Please, have a seat. We have much to discuss, and most of it will, admittedly, not be pleasant. As all of you know, I gathered everyone here to go over some information I have recently learned regarding Faera and her cohorts. To be blunt, Eden recently received a report from a member of the Blighted. Shepard has been spotted on Earthland, where he has apparently been disguising himself as a mortal for an as of yet unconfirmed amount time.”

He gave Mythal a significant look, and without any hint of mockery or levity, gave it to him straight. “I am sorry, Mythal. He has been going under the name of Branwen Frane."

Serilda honestly wasn’t sure whether she was grateful or disappointed that Ruzatz had elected to forego putting Cain and Eden in their place. Mythal was certainly more than ready and even voiced as much out loud, earning him a look from both Omens that made it clear neither of them took him seriously as a threat. While Serilda was much more composed than her fiance, she was much of the same inclination as he was. However, the Sin of Lust set a calming hand on his friend’s shoulder and declined Jareth’s offer.

It seemed the brief exchange was enough to encourage the bullies to leave for the time being, though not without a quick insult to Jareth. He made a show of drawing his sword and both of the other Omens scampered off with a laugh, leaving the group alone once more. The elven figure assured them that there would be repercussions for the actions, and soon they were off, venturing deeper into the castle.

Mythal took that time to ask Ruzatz a few questions, namely wondering if the Prime Sin had archdemons and a realm of his own. Their friend easily confessed to the inquiry, noting that his realm wasn’t as cold as this one. He also apparently only had one archdemon known as The Mistress, who oversaw his realm when he wasn’t there. Serilda was equally surprised that he only had one such figure under his command. When questioned about it, he informed them that she apparently used to be the Prime Sin of Pride, which put her at a separate level of power and respect than that of other archdemons. According to him, she was a delightful individual that he felt Serilda and Mythal would enjoy spending time with.

“Oh, yes! She is just so delightful. We’ll have to introduce you sometime.”

“I’m sure we can make some time for that.” Serilda didn’t say as much out loud, not wanting to speak for fear that Ozorith would have ears around the place, but it would be nice for them to start building more actual allies in this pantheon, which seemed to be full of dangerous gods and demons that saw them as little more than pawns, Ruzatz aside. It was only a few moments later she would be glad to have held her tongue, as Ozorith was already in the process of confronting Eden and Cain. Serilda wasn’t entirely sure how the Prime had already learned of the incident, but she was sure he had his ways, particularly in his own castle.

There was a brief greeting all around, with Ruzatz and Agatha much more practiced at being friendly with the man, before Ozorith took a moment to introduce Serilda and Mythal to most of his archdemons. The noblewoman couldn’t help but make a mocking remark toward the two Omens that had been humbled, and Mythal only compounded on it with a remark about being spanked by their proverbial father. Ozorith clearly didn’t have any offense over the commentary, providing only a small but delighted chuckle even as Eden and Cain glared daggers at the two insufferable mortals. They said nothing, but there was a dangerous smile on Eden’s face at Mythal’s promise that future attitudes would be handled accordingly by the Rune Knight leaders, the woman clearly already making plans.

Rather than linger, Ozorith directed them all to the table, keeping them focused on the meeting at hand. According to him, they had a lot to discuss and most of it was going to be difficult to swallow. Not intending on stringing them along with the bad news, he sat at the head of the table and came right out with it, stating that Shepard had been spotted on Earthland, and with a sober expression he looked Mythal right in the eyes as he informed him that Faera’s most powerful Trumpet had been living under the guise of Branwen Frane.

There was an immediate visceral reaction around the table. Serilda sat upright and stared at him in a look of wide eyed horror and disbelief. “What..?!” Mythal hadn’t even had time to properly fall into his seat, the director needing a moment to process the statement fully before going straight into a firm and violent denial. Once more he was fully on his feet, throwing his chair back against the icy wall behind him. Ozorith paid the outburst no mind, continuing to hold his gaze steadily and patiently on the two Rune Knights. Mythal had fixed a heated and hateful stare upon the Prime of Wrath, demanding answers as to why this information had come as a useless dinner meeting instead of from Morgaine, where the two of them could have investigated into it then and there, accusing him of jerking them around for not reason.

Ozorith’s answer was immediate, the Prime having clearly anticipated this reaction as well as the question and accusation. “Because Shepard is far more dangerous than any of Faera’s agents you have encountered thus far,” was the firm but calm reply. “Archimedes was child’s play in comparison to Shepard. As powerful as the two of you are, not even both of your efforts combined would be enough to take him down. So even if we knew where he was, which we don’t, you would only get yourselves killed by confronting him – or worse.”

There was no mistaking what he was alluding to: the fact that Faera wanted Mythal alive to act as her vessel. Serilda frowned. “You don’t know where he is?”

The demon lord shook his head softly. “No. Eden’s informant says he disappeared immediately afterward. That is where Oblivion currently is: trying to track him down. But if she finds him, and I have no doubt that she will eventually, this is not a confrontation we can rush into without covering all of our bases. We need a plan… which is why I called a meeting.”

Serilda was doing her best to fight down her own growing panic and anger over the situation. The more she thought about it, the more distressing it became. She had no reason to assume that Ozorith was lying; even if she wasn’t sure that Mythal was just trying to hide from a painful truth, she trusted that Agatha would speak up if she felt there was any deceit, the woman usually pretty good at reading lies from peoples’ emotions. But the Hand looked troubled over the news and Mythal’s reaction more than anything else. “Would you excuse us for just a moment?”

Ozorith nodded, understanding that the couple likely needed a chance to digest and calm down in private. Serilda stood from her seat and gently pulled Mythal to follow her out into the hallway, closing the door behind them. Once out of sight of the others, she pulled him into a tight hug without saying a word, just holding him and giving him a chance to find some solid ground without the pressure of a watching audience. Only once he gave some indication that he had calmed down enough to face the topic at hand without lashing out would the two return, finding that Mythal’s chair had been replaced at the table. There was some damage to the icy wall where the chair had hit it, but Serilda assumed that Ozorith or someone in his court would easily be able to repair that.

“Thank you for your patience, everyone,” she said by way of apology as she sat back down in her spot.

“It is no trouble.”

Picking up her utensils, Serilda started cutting up her steak and set herself to eating, if only to keep herself busy. At her example, Ozorith and Agatha did the same. “Why is your follower sure that Shepard is Branwen?”

“He told Eden that he saw him utilize his darkness magic. When he described the phenomenon to her, she was able to put it together and notified me immediately.”

“And how was it that he happened to find himself in the area to witness this?”

“He was not on any active missions for me or Eden at the time, so as unlikely as it sounds he was just in the right place at the right time.”

Agatha spoke up then after swallowing the bite she had taken. “You said that he has been on Earthland for an as of yet undetermined amount of time. Is it possible that he did something to Branwen and assumed his place..?”

Ozorith was silent for a moment as he contemplated her question. “Anything is possible, I suppose, but… short of Shepard giving us an answer himself, there simply isn’t any way to confirm that. It’s just as likely that he had always been Branwen from the start. Shepard has always been the most elusive of Faera’s Trumpets. If she were to put any of them in on a long-con, it would be him – especially if she was trying to keep tabs on Mythal.”

“And what about his wife, Aster..?” Serilda did her best to ask the question as neutrally and level headed as possible, but there was the slightest of hitches in her voice that betrayed the lump in her throat.

“As far as I am aware, she is who she says she is, but if Shepard was able to hide himself for this long, there’s no telling who else has been hiding alongside him. If she is a member of Faera’s court, I don’t know who she might be. She doesn’t fit the profile of any of the Immortal Thirteen members that I am aware of. I won’t rule out the possibility that she is involved in some way, but it’s more likely that Shepard is simply using her to give his cover validity.”

The answer didn’t exactly provide her comfort, but then again, no answer would have. Either Aster was involved in some way or she was in a gravely dangerous situation. Both answers had their own complications. And the worst part was, Serilda knew that she couldn’t bring it up with the woman, not until she knew for sure that Aster wasn’t connected in any way with Faera. With a weary sigh, Serilda turned to Ozorith. “I have no reason to assume you’re lying about any of this, but if it’s all the same, I would like to speak with the individual who saw him. I am sure Mythal and I both would appreciate the opportunity to interview him ourselves. Perhaps we can derive something from his testimony that may have been overlooked.”

“That is certainly a reasonable request. Eden?”

“Right away, my lord.” With his command issued, the woman disappeared in another puff of blackened frost to go collect her agent.

With that, Ozorith turned things back toward the rest of the table. “It would be wise to pool our knowledge so we can be as prepared as possible for Shepard or anything he might be working on. If any of you have any potentially relevant or useful information, now is the time to share it.”

Serilda knew there was very little she could have done in the moment to truly comfort Mythal, not with news like this. There was nothing she could say that would make him feel any less upset about the situation, so she did the only thing she could do: Hold him and give him time to get himself put together enough to return to the other room. She listened as he spoke to Quentin, asking the ethereal wizard if he would have been able to recognize Branwen for who he truly was, had Mythal gone to visit after attaining Quentin. Serilda couldn’t hear the response, but Mythal’s body language was all she needed to know the answer.

She was happy to hold him for as long as he needed, uncaring of how long they’d make the others wait. Ruzatz and Agatha would surely understand, and Ozorith… frankly she didn’t care about him, but it was clear that he also understood, even if he likely wasn’t coming from a place of compassion. Eventually Mythal pulled back and gave her a nod, the voidwalker cupping her hands on either side of his face for a moment before they finally returned.

Thankfully, everyone seemed intent on moving things along rather than drawing attention to the emotional weight this had placed on the Rune Knight leaders, particularly Mythal. They jumped right back into the discussion, and Serilda asked for the chance to interview the individual that had spoken with Eden. In truth she had expected to arrange a meeting later, but Ozorith instead sent Passion to collect the man right away, which only further demonstrated for her how urgently the Sin was taking this development. Mythal was understandably quiet and not touching his food. Serilda was doing her best not to glance at him too often, knowing that there was little to nothing that would be able to shake him from the funk the news had brought him. So instead, she did her best to stay focused and to ask the questions, to be strong for his sake.

Ozorith opened the floor for anyone to volunteer any information they had pertaining to Shepard, Faera, or really anything that would potentially be related to either of them. Ruzatz spoke up after swallowing a bite of his food, stating that he had two things to convey. The first was that he had met Branwen once some time ago. Serilda glanced up at him with an attentive look, listening as he explained that he had been more than aware of Faera’s attempt to take Mythal’s body for her own, something that only Ozorith and Agatha were currently aware of. Both individuals nodded their acknowledgement of the fact without interrupting him. Ruzatz admitted that he had gone undercover to get more information about the raid and during that time he’d run into Branwen, who hadn’t set off any alarms for the Sin. It was entirely possible that Shepard was just that good at hiding himself and his powers, but Ruzatz believed it was more likely that Shepard had not always been Branwen, or at the very least that Branwen had not always been one of Faera’s trumpets.

It was certainly something to at least be able to believe that the man Mythal had always seen as an uncle hadn’t always necessarily been Shepard in disguise, though at this point everything was pure speculation without proof. However, she wouldn’t be able to afford much more thought on the matter as Ruzatz went on, explaining his concern and skepticism over one of Ozorith’s followers simply happening to be in the right place at the right time to view the display. It was enough of a point to draw Mythal to speak, the director looking up at his friend and asking for elaboration. As far as the Sin saw it, it sounded like a purposeful display, something where Shepard possibly wanted to be found, wanted to let them know he was going to make a move.

Ozorith gave a soft nod. “Yes, the thought had occurred to me, as well. I find it hard to believe that Shepard would have gone this long hiding himself without even a trace of suspicion, only to get sloppy now. Yet another reason I felt it was prudent we meet. If this is some kind of trap, it’s best that we view it for what it is and adjust accordingly. I don’t mind walking into some kind of ambush, but that doesn’t mean we have to walk into it blindly, nor tip our hands too soon.”

Ruzatz looked over to Serilda, suggesting that now was likely the time to explain to her demonic patron what they’d learned about Faera. Ozorith frowned and turned his own gaze to the woman, who was reaching up to rub her temples with a sigh. “Gods, I’d almost forgotten about all that… this whole world war thing has eaten up so much of my time and focus.” She looked at the Sin of Wrath with a weary expression, already knowing that he wasn’t going to be thrilled to learn about any of this. “A little less than two years ago, by Earthland standards, Faera made another attempt to assume control over Mythal’s body. She attacked him, and us, on multiple fronts. I assume you are familiar with the Order of Souls?”

“Naturally. I’m unsurprised to hear they are still kicking around.”

“Well, they were, at least. They were recently all but wiped out again by the Dread Masters, but… that’s a different story for another time. Suffice to say, several members of the Order were able to help us fight her off and protect Mythal. But part of that battle involved myself and Mythal’s adoptive father, Gren, being transported into Mythal’s psyche to confront the goddess in his mind. We learned two things during that fight: One that she had already replaced Archimedes with my dead former husband, Hugo. The other… is that she was pregnant with Hugo’s child.”

Wrath’s eyes went wide as he sat up further in his seat. It was clear that he was frustrated that he had not been informed of this before now, a bit of anger roiling in his gaze as he and his Sword stared at one another. Even the Omens along the wall behind him shifted uncomfortably, each of them glancing at each other with varied looks of concern. However, Ozorith kept his calm, taking a slow breath to pull back on his anger so he could speak reasonably. “And this was not deemed important enough to tell me long before now..?” he asked gently.

Serilda shrugged. “I thought about it. Things have been crazy ever since, so I haven’t exactly had a whole lot of time. Ruzatz was aware, because he and Agatha were present for the confrontation, so I assumed it was enough that he knew, at least. But frankly, it’s not as though I have a whole lot of reason to trust you. It’s no secret that Mythal and I despise you, nor that you manipulated me to this position. I take responsibility for accepting my place in your court. I could have chosen not to accept it. But your behaviors in the past have not exactly inspired us to want to interact with you anymore than is necessary.”

The expression on Ozorith’s face was neutral and unreadable, Serilda meeting his eyes with calm defiance as he studied her. It was the Prime Sin that broke first, looking away with a mild shake of his head. “I always knew that I’d have to be the one to step up first on our agreement to be forthcoming with information regarding Faera. You are not my first Sword, nor are you the first that has viewed me as an enemy. I have been through this song and dance before. However, if you come across something of this magnitude again…” He looked back over to her. “It is imperative that you notify me. I have known Faera for a very long time. Longer even than Ruzatz. She is a threat to all of us, one that can only be addressed as a united front. I cannot help if I do not have all the relevant data.”

This time it was Serilda’s turn to look away after a moment, the voidwalker offering no response. He was right, of course, but that didn’t mean she had to say it, nor agree to being more prompt about informing him of things in the future. Ozorith’s gaze narrowed ever so slightly at the lack of reply, but he elected to ignore it for now, choosing instead to forage ahead. “Faera being pregnant is… troubling, to say the least, though I don’t know what she thinks to accomplish with something like that. She would not be able to use the child as a vessel, as far as I am aware. That is a unique circumstance that can only be met under certain parameters, such as Mythal’s. But… when it comes to the powers of Kingdom Darkness, there is often very little logic that can be followed. I’m inclined to say that was her way of attempting to repay you, Serilda, for your interference in rescuing Mythal from her realm before she could claim him; elevating your deceased husband to that of an archangel and using him to taunt you.”

“Well, she needn’t have bothered. Seeing Hugo at her side was…” Her voice trailed off for a moment as she sought for the right words. “I won’t say it didn’t rattle me, and I won’t say it didn’t hurt to some extent, but… I had already seen Hugo for what he truly was. After the initial shock wore off and I accepted that he was just there to distract me, I mostly stopped caring. He was not worth the energy to feel hurt over. I had far more important matters to attend to. As far as I am concerned, he is the least of my worries when it comes to Faera and her schemes, and if he shows his face again, I will handle him accordingly.”

Ozorith regarded his Sword for a moment before turning his attention to Ruzatz. “Have you informed anyone else about this? The other Sins should be notified. And as much as I hate parlaying with the Divines, it is probably best that we inform them as well.”

“I can reach out to Ramuh, if need be,” Agatha offered, giving Ruzatz a knowing look before returning her gaze to Ozorith once more. “If any of the Divines could conjecture on the possible ramifications of Faera birthing a child, it would be him. And he would likely be more willing to speak with me over the matter than he would with either of you.” Her history with the Divine of Faith was broadly known by Ozorith, and intimately known by Ruzatz, though she had never shared her history with him to Serilda and Mythal.

“That would probably be the best option, but I leave that decision up to the two of you. If need be, I can confront him myself. He’s a stubborn pain in my ass, but he is not usually without reason.”

It was only a moment or two later when Eden reappeared, her hand on the shoulder of a man that she had pulled through into Kingdom Frostbane with her. He was a handsome individual with medium brown hair and vibrant green eyes, well built and well dressed. He looked a bit nervous about being there, his gaze quickly scanning the room and ignoring just about everything else inside of it to find Ozorith. “My lord.” Immediately, he dropped to a knee and bowed his head in respect and submission. “It’s an honor to be in your presence. How may I serv–”

“What in the hell is the meaning of this?!” All eyes in the room quickly snapped to Serilda, who was staring at the man in shock and rage. She had somehow managed to remain in her seat, but her body was trembling with anger as she glared at the Blighted member of Ozorith’s court, demanding an answer from him. Shaken from his reverie and obedience by the sudden interruption, he glanced up at the source of the voice…

…and immediately went pale. “Seri…?”

The two stared at one another for a long, silent beat, him suddenly overcome with fear and panic as she did everything in her power to maintain her composure. Even Ozorith was taken aback, glancing between the two of them in confusion. Her tone was dark and dangerously quiet when she spoke again. “You will explain yourself, Colin Pearson. And you will do it right now.”

Mythal’s question about enough time having passed for Faera to have had the child by now was a valid one, Serilda glancing between the two Sins. It was Ruzatz that answered, informing them that the gestation period for a Divine wasn’t necessarily the same as that of a mortal. There were ways that the child birthing process could be drawn out, but much of the process was likely dependent on whether or not Hugo was still a human when he copulated with the goddess. Ruzatz had only slept with one Divine in the past, but naturally the discussion of divine pregnancies hadn’t really come up.

Agatha nodded her head in agreement. “I’ve had… some discussion of pregnancies with a godly parent,” she informed them, her voice unwavering but her body language slightly discomforted. “But in that instance, the hypothetical was of the father being a Divine, and the mother being a mortal raised to a demi-god. I don’t think the same rules would apply here, with the mother being a Divine. What I can say is that the vast majority of the gods would never debase themselves to sleep with a mortal, let alone impregnate one or be impregnated by one. It’s possible that Faera is an exception to the norm, but it’s far more likely that she waited until after Hugo was raised as an archangel.”

Oz asked Ruzatz if he had spoken with anyone else about it, causing the Prime of Lust to playfully remind him that Ruzatz didn’t speak with any of the other Sins at all if he could help it. Even if he did, they’d likely brush it off as a problem for the Divines, save for Ilgan who would be eager for the opportunity to claim some of Faera’s power for his own. It was… odd to hear such contempt come from Ruzatz’s lips, his tone causing Serilda to give him a curious frown. He’d never even spoken so distastefully of Ozorith, whom she knew he despised. A noteworthy observation, but a matter for another time. Ozorith himself had rolled his eyes in regard to the other Sins’ likelihood to ignore the matter. “It would be imbecilic of them to do so. She may not be Ataxia, but there is no telling how much of Ataxia’s power she has absorbed from her realm. They will learn to respect the severity of the situation, even if I have to beat it into them myself.”

The Hand spoke up to volunteer herself for reaching out to Ramuh, throwing another puzzle piece onto the table of the picture for whatever history she clearly had with the Divine. The way that Ruzatz reacted with a surprising measure of protectiveness added yet another piece as Serilda began to gather that Agatha might have been romantically involved with the Divine at some point, and it hadn’t ended well. Ruzatz would relent to the idea, confirming that Agatha had the right of it, even if he wasn’t happy about it. The redhead reached over and took her husband’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “He learned his lesson long ago. Even if he entertains any daydreams, he wouldn’t dare act on them. Not anymore. I can handle him, love.”

“Then we will leave it in your capable hands. You’ll let us know what he says?”

She nodded. “As soon as I have anything concrete, I’ll pass it along to Jareth.”

It was right after that Eden returned, with the Blighted in tow, the man immediately submitting himself to the demon lord of wrath. But before he could finish his sentence, Serilda spoke out of indignation, bringing the entire room to a screeching halt.

The last time she had seen Colin, he was in jail for stealing from her family. He had certainly been guilty of the crime, though he had been thrown under the bus by other involved parties that wanted to use him as a scapegoat. It was from him that she had ultimately confirmed Hugo’s treachery, learning in the process that much of Colin’s divide from Hugo had been due to the fact that Colin had truly fallen in love with Serilda. They had shared a tender moment, even a kiss. She hadn’t seen him since then, but she knew that he’d eventually been released from jail after Serilda had been able to see to it that his family was protected, clearing his name in exchange for information on those who were still embezzling from her family’s mines.

So to see him here, now, not just present but as a member of the Blighted, whom they had only learned earlier that day was a term given to Ozorith’s more devout and proactive followers… it was a slap in the face. It tore her heart in two. The sense of betrayal was quickly eating away at her better temperament, and she demanded that he forego all else to explain himself. His own expression would be best described as crestfallen, the man looking beyond baffled to see her there. He scrambled to find his voice. “S-Seri, I-”

“Don’t you dare speak to me with such familiarity.” Serilda rarely even pulled her nobility card, but her anger had overwritten all sense of patience or humility.

Colin blanched and immediately bowed his head. “Please forgive me, my lady. I-”

“How long, Colin? How long have you been a member of Ozorith’s court?”

“A f-few years. Since before… before you and Hugo were married…”

“And did you play any part in Ozorith’s schemes to recruit me?”

Colin chanced a glance up at her in confusion. “N-no, Lady Sinclair. I didn’t even know you were involved with him until just now.” Serilda flicked her gaze to Ozorith for confirmation and the Prime shook his head gently, still looking a bit perplexed himself. She returned her stony glare to Colin where he knelt. Several beats of silence went by as none dared to speak or draw attention to themselves, not even Ozorith, though he appeared more curious than intimidated.

Seri wanted nothing more than to get more details from him, but as angry as she was and as betrayed as she felt, her better self told her it was not the time or place. While she didn’t care too much for protecting Colin’s privacy at the moment, she wasn’t sure how much of that conversation she wished to have in front of Ozorith and his Omens. Her nail tapped against the surface of the table over and over again until she finally reached a judgment. “We will discuss this back on Earthland. I expect you to meet with me tomorrow at the Rune Knight headquarters.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sensing it was time to move on, Ozorith cleared his throat lightly and took back over. “Colin, you were brought here to provide your testimony of what you witnessed the other day with Shepard. Eden summed it up for me, but the rest of us would very much prefer to hear the details from you.”

“Yes, my lord. I’ve been in Oak Town for a few weeks. Last night I went to the temple to return some scrolls that I had checked out and as I was leaving I caught sight of a man that was… for lack of a better way to say it, acting suspicious. He had a hood up and was keeping his face down as he moved through the crowds, constantly looking around as if to see if anyone was watching or following him. At one point he lifted his head enough that I was able to see past the hood and recognize him as a former Rune Knight major, Branwen Frane. It struck me as… odd… that a man of such renown and esteem would be sneaking around like that. It gave me a bad feeling. So, I followed him.”

“Eventually he tucked down an alley that leads out into a small park behind some apartments, and there were two people waiting loitering behind one of the Great Wizard monuments. He slipped behind the monument to speak with them. By the time I found a spot where I could spy on them without drawing notice to myself, they appeared to be having some kind of argument.”

“Did you overhear any of what they were arguing about?”

Colin shook his head softly. “No, your grace. They were too far away and I didn’t want to risk getting any closer. The only thing I can tell you from their body language was that he seemed to be laying into the other two pretty thick. Anyway, toward the end he pulled some sort of… stone from one of his pockets and placed some kind enchantment on it utilizing darkness magic that was unlike anything I had ever seen or felt before. Branwen is a fairly public figure and it’s widely known that he uses earth maker magic, so him suddenly utilizing a darkness spell raised a couple of red flags. One of the other people withdrew some kind of large weapon shaped like a key, which Branwen also enchanted with darkness. After that, they split and walked away in different directions. I followed Branwen for another half a mile or so. He seemed to be heading back toward the main square but when I turned around the corner of a building, he was just gone. I went back to my hotel room and contacted Eden immediately.”

Ozorith glanced at Ruzatz. “Definitely a set up.”

“Can you describe the two other individuals he was speaking with?”

“One was a woman with long blue hair, carrying a red staff. She wore an oversized robe that fell off her shoulders and uh… pretty much the only thing covering her chest was a pair of pink sea shells on either breast. The other was a man, possibly not human. He was very large, barrel chested and muscular with a white mustache that completely covered the bottom half of his face.”

Serilda sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Ruman and Izrael.” As if things couldn’t get any worse. One Trumpet was bad enough, but if three of them were involved in some scheme together, it didn’t bode well. The last time she and Mythal had run into the other two Trumpets, they had only fought long enough for her to get a taste of Ruman’s power. It hadn’t been a long enough battle for her to truly judge how powerful he was in relation to her. She had handled his attacks well enough, but he had also handled hers without breaking much of a sweat. She simply wouldn’t know what kind of a threat they truly were until there was a real battle between them. “What would they stand to gain from trying to get our attention like this? They have to know we’d recognize they were trying to bait us. I don’t understand why he would wait all this time and go through all this effort. If Shepard is as powerful as you say, Ozorith, then surely he could have easily collected Mythal at any point up until now when we had no idea who he truly was. Why the games? What’s the angle here? There’s no sense in spending so much time hiding his true identity only to reveal himself just to toy with us.”

Serilda was so wrapped up in her own anger that she had lost focus on damn near everything else in the room. She felt Mythal’s hand reach over to take her own, her fiance finding the strength to set aside his own struggles long enough to provide her with some measure of comfort. Her hand squeezed his in return, the tightness with which she held it the only thing keeping her grounded for the time being. They had known this meeting wasn’t going to be a pleasant one, of course, but so far their frustration hadn’t come in the way they had envisioned. They had expected Ozorith to be his typical arrogant, manipulative, pain in the ass self. Instead, he had been rather straightforward and composed the entire time, the Rune Knight couple being hit from all sides by things that they simply couldn’t blame Ozorith for, as much as both of them probably wanted to.

Colin gave his testimony, detailing his encounter with Shepard, Ruman, and Izrael for the rest of them. The story provided some additional insight, though not as much as she had hoped for. It was most certainly a trap of some kind, but for the life of her Serilda simply couldn’t fathom the logic behind their approach and she said as much out loud.

Ruzatz agreed that it was odd. He verified that Shepard’s strength was certainly a cause for concern, agreeing with Ozorith that, if the Trumpet wanted to, he could have dealt with Serilda and captured Mythal without breaking too much of a sweat. The voidwalker took no offense to the comment, knowing full well that she was not the end all be all of power. Unfortunately, the Prime of Lust knew next to nothing about Shepard outside of who he was before he had retreated into Kingdom Darkness with Faera. According to him, Shepard was a quieter individual back in those days, an obedient servant that did his duty without fuss, almost the complete opposite of who he currently appeared to be. The only thing he could conclude was that it was the influence of the kingdom, which had corrupted Shepard as much as it had Faera.

But even this behavior was baffling. By now, Shepard had to know that it would take more than revealing his identity to rattle Mythal hard enough to make a stupid decision, if only because Serilda was there to help steady the man. Something was missing, some critical piece of the puzzle that tied everything together to make sense, but Ruzatz simply had no idea where to start even looking for additional information. As far as he saw it, the only potential option they had was to try speaking with his wife.

Serilda’s shoulders slumped slightly as she released a soft sigh from her nostrils. “I don’t know how keen I am on the idea of speaking to Aster about all this. My hope is that she isn’t involved, but whether she is or isn’t, confronting her about all this opens the path to all sorts of problems. Best case scenario, she isn’t involved, but then she has to cope with the knowledge that the man she loves isn’t who she thinks he is, and she’ll either have to return home and try to maintain a ruse of ignorance, or she’ll have to go into hiding, which would confirm for Shepard that we’re on to him. Either way, it’s a no win scenario.”

Ozorith was sitting silently in his chair with a deeply pensive expression as he contemplated their thoughts. “I agree that it might be a little soon to speak to his wife. We can always choose to approach her at a later date if necessary, but once she’s been confronted there’s no going back. I think the wisest course of action for the moment would be to pool our resources in trying to get as much information on him as possible, everything from his history, his time with the Rune Knights, his current activities and allies… If we can gather every detail about his life, it might help us determine how long he has been posing as Branwen, and maybe in the process we’ll dig up other useful information that can give us more of a foothold.”

“Mythal and I can easily access his Rune Knight records and start running some discreet background checks on him. Whatever we can’t find through legitimate channels, I’m sure Mercury can find a way to unearth.”

Agatha nodded, reaching over to hook her arm beneath Ruzatz’s. “And we certainly have plenty of our own methods of procuring information. We’ll send out some of our best agents, and I’ll see what I can divine through more arcane methods.”

While they had a frustrating lack of guidance, their path had been set before them. As of this moment, their priority would be to uncover as much as they could about Branwen as quickly as possible, in the hope that it would lead them to some answers before it was too late. Ruzatz, at least, was doing what he could to lighten the mood a little, promising that by the time they were done they’d know every intimate detail about Shepard, including what kind of porn he fancied. The barest of smirks tugged on Serilda’s lips in appreciation for his attempt, though not even Ruzatz could lift her spirits at the moment.

The Prime of Lust went on to shift gears, stating that while they didn’t have much to go on as far as Shepard’s plans, he did know of someone that could help them at least be as prepared as possible for a battle with him. Namely, a weapon smith. Ozorith scoffed and rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to say something before Ruzatz cut him off with a raised hand. Mythal asked for elaboration and Lust provided it, explaining that the blacksmith was once a vassal for Ramuh, who seemed to be the head Divine. The man was richly rewarded for his work in the form of being granted unlimited knowledge.

The gift, however, had not been fully thought through. In giving him infinite intellect, the blacksmith was able to see the truth about the Divines and Sins both, and their intentions for the human race. He used his limited time with divine clarity to write down everything he could into a book that would aid mortals in protecting themselves against the immortals, which Ramuh did not react favorably to.

As Ruzatz continued the story, Serilda chanced a glance at Mythal, one that would be unreadable to everyone else. The book he was describing was the one that Gren and Vriko had recently managed to get their hands on recently. While the voidwalker wasn’t against telling Ruzatz and Agatha about it later, she had zero intention of letting something like that come to the attention of Ozorith or his brood, and so she kept her mouth shut and her face schooled. In the end, Ramuh had punished his vassal’s disobedience with immortality and essentially enslaved him to crafting weapons for the Divines. However, Ruzatz’s predecessor had a penchant for playing tricks on her deific counter parts, particularly Ramuh, and enacted a plan to free the smith. By then he was a few beams short of a barn wall, but still more than capable of plying his trade. He struck an accord with her that he would instead make weapons for the Sins, provided that they were not used against humanity in any way, shape or form. And since he was well and truly immortal, there was nothing anyone could threaten him with to break his strict policy.

“And many have tried, myself included,” Ozorith remarked, seeing no sense in hiding that fact. Everyone in the room knew him for what he was, anyway. Ruzatz went on to showcase that he and Agatha had spent a decent amount of time with the man, complimenting his humor and stating how much of a joy he was at orgies. Apparently Monica had a difficult time coping with him, which Serilda didn’t really know how to take, but he and Agatha thought highly of him, and he felt strongly that he would be beneficial in upgrading their weapons to make them even more potent against Faera and her forces. Ozorith sighed, relenting. “I certainly can’t fault his skill. He doesn’t care for me very much and has only ever agreed to make a few items for myself and my Omens… except for Oblivion. He tends to go out of his way to make things for her even without her asking… but I can’t deny that the things he has crafted for us made the difference in a number of skirmishes with the Divines over the millennia. If anyone can make sure you are property outfitted for a battle with Faera’s trumpets, it will be him.”

“Then it may be best for us to meet with him sooner, rather than later. There’s no telling what kind of time table we’re on.”

Agatha nodded. “We’ll arrange a meeting with him as soon as we can.”

It seemed the meeting was coming to a close. Ozorith turned to Colin, who was sitting by in silent obedience, looking very much like he wished to crawl into a hole somewhere and die. “We have what we need. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He stood to his feet as Eden reapproached him, and with one final glance at Serilda – who continued to ignore him – they were gone.

“As soon as I have word from Oblivion, I’ll make sure the rest of you are notified. In the meantime, let’s see what all we can dredge up and we’ll regroup once we have a bit more to work with… Assuming Shepard hasn’t already sprung his trap by then.”

---

The situation was bad.

It had been a long time since Ozorith had sent Oblivion on a mission that required such haste, but if it was true that Shepard had been spotted on Earthland, well.. That was certainly worth the urgency. She would have appreciated some back up, knowing that they would find their quarry more quickly if all hands were on deck, but Ozorith had his reasons for sending only her, and the reasons were sound ones. Out of all the other Omens, the only one that was capable of the subtlety needed for a hunt like this was Jareth. The others would have drawn far too much attention to themselves, and simply would not have been powerful enough to deal with the consequences. But even then, Jareth would only be able to hold out for so long in a one on one fight against Shepard before being overwhelmed, and if he got too close to Shepard the archangel would surely sense him.

Oblivion was the only one with any advantages against him, the secret ace up Ozorith’s sleeve. She had been working for the Prime of Wrath far longer than any of the others, and was the only one that stood any chance at all of locating him without being noticed – and the only one that could give him a run for his money in a fight.

But while she had ways of following his trail, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t take time, or that she could afford to overlook any details. Shepard was crafty and cunning, so she knew she’d have to cover all her bases. She’d started at the home where Shepard had been passing himself off as a mortal as Branwen Frane, the Omen hanging around for some time and watching the house in wait. His wife was home, the blonde woman going about her evening none-the-wiser to being spied upon, with no behaviors to suggest that she was involved in anything that was happening. That didn’t necessarily mean much, of course; the absence of proof was hardly evidence of innocence. Still, after a while it became clear that staying would only be a waste of Oblivion’s time. Wherever Shepard was, it wasn’t at his home.

So as a couple friends showed up to the home to collect Aster for what appeared to be some kind of ladies’ night, Oblivion turned her attention elsewhere, moving instead to where Eden’s supplicant had encountered the three Trumpets. The stench of Shepard’s power still lingered in the air, causing her nose to wrinkle in distaste, but it gave her something to follow at the very least. It had been eons past recollection since Oblivion had come face to face with the Trumpet of Destruction, and she could only assume that he had changed drastically since then, thanks to the corruption of Kingdom Darkness. The remnants of his magic felt sickening to her senses, and not simply because it was holy magic. Settling herself in, she closed her eyes and meditated, focusing on leftover scraps of his energy and expanding her awareness, searching for the original essence from which it had been born.

There.

She heard Shepard’s voice in her head, along with the gentle din of noise that indicated he was in some kind of public area. The scent of freshly brewed coffee tickled her nose, and as another man’s voice spoke up in appreciation to “Bran”, the visuals faded into view. She could see them, now, sitting at a table in a small restaurant. Shepard, in his guise of Branwen, was sitting across from a much larger man that was looking over a sheaf of papers in his hands. Oblivion recognized Gren Ragnos immediately, the adoptive father of Faera’s vessel having come to her attention more than once in the past. Neither of them would be aware of her observation of them, her spell crafted to be a passive projection of her consciousness that gave off no magical signature.

Oblivion listened to the entire exchange as they discussed familiar names: Serilda, Mythal, and Vriko. The latter’s name was never actually spoken, but the glimpse that Oblivion got of the paperwork had the failed vessel’s name written in several spots. Legal documents, files for adoption… it seemed Gren was planning on giving Vriko the same compassion as he’d done for Mythal when he was an infant. Shepard played the part well, she’d give him that. The mortal was completely oblivious to the true nature of the angel beside him.

Soon the two parted ways, and she commanded her astral consciousness to follow the Trumpet, intent on seeing what she could learn while he was unaware he was being watched. His warm expression dropped almost immediately upon leaving Gren’s presence, replaced with a hatred that would have given a lesser person pause. Oblivion was no such individual. What did cause her to stop, however, was something else entirely. Even as Shepard wandered off into the night she realized something: she was still sensing a small fraction of his power from back in the shop.

Right then and there, Oblivion was face with a decision, one that she needed to make quickly. Did she continue to follow Shepard, as she had been instructed, or did she risk losing him to investigate the odd phenomenon? With one final glance toward Shepard as he disappeared behind a corner, she moved her focus back toward Gren as the man finished his coffee and left. The reek of Shepard’s power seemed to follow him, disappearing only when the man utilized his magic to take the form of a bolt of electricity to leave. Somehow, someway, Shepard had planted something on the man, and while her abilities were limited in astral form, she would bet money that it was something to do with the documents he’d given Gren.

Her mind returned to her own body, Oblivion’s eye flitting open with a scowl. Shepard was her goal, but her instincts were nagging at her. Whatever he had done, it wouldn’t be good. She had a duty to keep tabs on the Trumpet, but what good was that duty if his schemes were allowed to come to fruition without investigation?

It took her a couple minutes to locate where Gren had gone, some small village far outside of any larger cities. Materializing in the general area, she swiftly stormed her way to the home where she could smell Shepard’s power, which was rapidly increasing at an alarming rate. With no time for niceties, Oblivion rudely kicked in the door, causing it to shatter completely. Gren and Vriko were on their feet immediately, adjusting from relaxation to combat readiness in record time, but Oblivion was hardly even paying attention to them.

“Revela veritatem taum!” she commanded, pointing at the papers that had been scattered to the ground and speaking a spell of arcane power. The papers immediately became enshrouded in a darkness that Vriko and Gren would both be acutely familiar with, the nature of the energy all too obvious once she had broken the shielding that was keeping the enchantment hidden. And from the swelling of the power, there was no mistaking that whatever the spell was, it was on the verge of being fully realized. Her eyes went wide and she acted.

“INCENDO!”

The documents burst into flames, crumbling to ash in the blink of an eye, the enchantment destroyed along with it. Once Oblivion was certain the danger had passed, she finally turned her gaze to the other two in the room, her mismatched blue and purple colored eyes regarding them with stony neutrality. “It is no longer safe for either of you here. You need to leave.”

If the intruder was at all bothered or threatened by Vriko’s dramatic bravado of cutting a perfectly good couch in half to create an opening to her, she didn’t show it. In fact, she barely paid the hostile behavior any mind, merely glancing at the katana wielding woman without even reaching for the great sword that was strapped to her shoulder. Ignoring the question entirely for the time being, Oblivion insisted that the two of them needed to leave immediately and find another safehouse to occupy.

Vriko seemed all too happy to continue challenging the woman, but Gren hadn’t missed the darkness magic. He spoke up, informing Vriko to collect her things, shutting down her protest and insisting they listen. As Vriko ran off to obey, Gren stayed behind to speak with the new woman. He admitted his ignorance to her identity, but at least understood there was a lot going on that he didn’t have all the information for. What he wanted to know was if she would give him any answers, or if he would have to seek them from someone else.

Oblivion regarded him for a moment with a neutral expression. From the moment it had been apparent that Gren was going to listen to her suggestion to leave, she had already started trying to seek out Shepard’s power once more, hoping to relocate him before the trail went cold. Unfortunately, she found no trace of him. Wherever he’d gone, he’d made sure to cover his tracks. She’d have to start over.

with a slightly frustrated sigh through her nostrils, she crossed her arms and took a casual stance that showed she was going to stay, at least for the moment. “You’ll be able to get more details from Serilda and Mythal. I am sure they will be wrapping up their meeting with Ozorith and Ruzatz soon, if it isn’t over already. My time is short, but I can give you the broader details.”

“I am Ryori, Ozorith’s Omen of Oblivion. The one you know as Branwen Frane is Shepard, Faera’s Trumpet of Despair, in disguise. He revealed himself less than twenty-four hours ago, and Ozorith has tasked me with tracking him down and keeping tabs on him. I was able to observe your meeting with him at the coffee house, but while I was following him out I sensed a portion of his power remained with you. It was suspicious, so I elected to let him go and follow you instead. Those documents were enchanted to detonate like a bomb that would have wiped this entire village off the map.”

“I took care of it, but missed my window of opportunity to keep Shepard in my sights. If I am to have any chance of finding him again, I need to leave.” It wasn’t all the information Ryori had, but with time being of the essence, he would have to be satisfied with what he got. Everything else he could seek from his son and future daughter-in-law. “No doubt someone will be coming this way very soon to confirm if the two of you were killed. I recommend leaving immediately. Do not speak with any of the villagers, and do not return here, ever. Once he realizes his plan failed, I am certain this place will be watched.”

Her final suggestion given, Ryori wouldn’t even offer a farewell before she was simply gone, vanishing into thin air without a trace of magic in her wake.