Unbound

Vess stared out of familiar windows over a familiar city. Home, she thought. How strange it is to be back.

Plumes of smoke rose from the streets below and several structures were clearly destroyed in the night’s aftermath, but it was largely peaceful. The sun rose above the horizon, painting the sky in pale hues at the edge of blue and slanting through thin clouds to warm her face. She had gotten little sleep since defeating the captain in a duel, and subsequently rallying the remaining Dragoons to assault the lowest levels of Scalebreaker Citadel. Hours of fighting later, she and the rest of the rebel army had killed the very last Paladin in its halls.

The Citadel was free.

Their first order of business was reestablishing her father’s control over the Territory. With the Hierei dead, there was nothing stopping him from reclaiming his Authority. Once done, he had ordered the entire city to be swept clean of the Hierocratic dogs.

It had been a long night.

Behind her, the first meeting of the Duke’s Council took place. Her father and the surviving members of his council sat and were debriefed by her Auntie Verona and Uncle Patrim. Vess let the words wash over her; she didn’t need to live them twice.

Instead, she brought up her new Skill.

Galebound Glory (Transcendent), Level 95!

Metal and storm answer your call as glory rises to meet your Will. Summons twenty Spears to serve you, imbued with their own Will and capable of generating a phantom copy for each Spear. Each copy does full damage to an opponent. Mana required to manipulate each Spear is greatly reduced, and the Will of Glory aids in control and finesse.

Spear of Tribulation had been her last Dragoon-taught Skill, the only remaining one unchanged by the influence of her experiences. Now it was gone, and a part of her felt bereft, as if she’d lost a friend. Vess worried that something was lost with it…but she squashed that sentiment. It was a fanciful notion, and not one she could indulge anymore.

Smart girl, Yin sent.

She smiled to herself. Vess knew the power of her bond with Yintarion, and the might that she had taken on from Felix back in Ahkestria. It had taken her time, but she no longer regretted her change.

Far from a downgrade, Galebound Glory was at a power level she hadn’t ever experienced. A Transcendent Skill… She still couldn’t believe it.

A veteran Dragoon could create phantom copies of their Spear to aid in their attack, so already she had bested a great many of her order. What’s more, their copies would do half damage at best, while her phantoms were just as effective as the real thing. Combined with their effectiveness at piercing magical defenses, the Skill promised to be a terror in battle.

And will soon reach Master Tier, little Dragoon.

Good. We’ll need it.

“...once the Oaths were sundered, taking out the Hierocratic forces in the Citadel was a relatively simple process. Our army swept the middle floors, and the Drakengard and now-free Dragoons—led by the Lady Vessilia Dayne—did the rest,” her aunt Verona finished up.

Vess perked up at mention of her name, and endured the impressed stares of the councilors. There were ten of them, down from the twenty she remembered, and all of them were varying degrees of shocked, scared, and excited.

“How, precisely, were the Oaths sundered?” one councilor asked. Baron Welvig, Vess recalled. His white mustache shook almost as much as his jowls as he spoke.

“We were greatly assisted in the retaking of Pax’Vrell by the Territory of Nagast, and its Autarch,” Verona said smoothly.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It was this Fiend person, yes?” another asked. Countess Vilora. “I have heard much of him in the past few months. Concerning things.”

“Nevarre is an ally,” Patrim announced firmly. “And not someone we want as an enemy. He personally killed the Hierei.”

“He—! The Hierei was a Grandmaster!”

“Powerful indeed,” said Welvig. “Where is he?”

Verona looked to Vess, who straightened in her seat. “He has other duties to attend while here and has to leave back to Nagast soon.”

“Hm. Convenient. Not going to help clean up this mess?”

“What do you expect him to do? Defeat our enemies for us?” Her father barked a laugh. “As far as I’m concerned, Lord Nevarre has gone above and beyond what could be expected of a foreign ruler. To expect more would be selfish and…impertinent.”

“Oh? And what did this Fiend ask for in compensation?”

“Nothing of consequence,” Verona replied. “And nothing we couldn’t afford.”

“To take on a Grandmaster and not strip our lands of all we have…” Baron Welvig shook his head, jowls quivering. “I simply do not understand that. He must have greater motivations than mere altruism.”

“He does, but as I said, his requests were simple and cost us little. Unless you’re willing to offer up your treasury, Baron?” Verona asked with a sharp smile.

Welvig harrumphed his way into silence, and Vess gave a small, satisfied nod. Few on the Continent would have risked themselves for someone else’s cause, and fewer still for another Territory, but Felix was among that number.

“Our first act should be to completely oust the redcloaks from our lands,” Patrim said, before inclining his head to his brother. “The Seal can accomplish this, can it not?”

“With a smaller group, certainly. Something so large as thousands?” The Duke leaned against the table, and from how skinny he’d grown Vess worried it was out of exhaustion. She had little sleep the night prior, but her father hadn’t slept at all. “It is unlikely the Hierei left us enough resources to so much as make them tingle. But, I can get an estimate of their numbers and location, as I did last night. I must simply expand it to encompass the entire Territory.”

He lifted his hands, manipulating a screen none of them could see. Authority had returned to her father the moment Mivun Tal died, falling back onto his shoulders as if nothing had changed at all. He swiped the screens aside, and an ethereal glow surrounded the Duke.

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“Mark all Pathless servants within the bounds of the Territory as enemies of Pax’Vrell,” he commanded, and the ethereal glow flashed once and vanished. Almost immediately, he winced and leaned hard against the table again.

Vess could hear it: something sounded across his Seat and Seal, like an insistent bell. “Father? What is it?”

The Duke worked his mouth as if attempting to gather moisture but failed—his voice was a harrowing croak. “I can feel every Hierocratic soldier in our Territory. There are thousands still among the villages.”

“We knew this,” said another councilor. “What else?”

“It is as I figured. The Seal isn’t strong enough to repel them all, and,” her father took a steadying breath. “A second army has crossed into the Territory. Out of the Rimefang Mountains.”

“A second army?” Patrim asked in disbelief. “The Hierophant could not have acted so swiftly!”

“How many?” Verona asked.

“I can only estimate. Something is interfering.” The Duke straightened and looked over them all…but his eyes were distant, fixed upon a far-away sight. “No less than ten thousand soldiers…and none of them are weaker than Adept Tier.”

Following the guidance of their Divine patron, the confusing morass of the swamps no longer hindered them. Imara became aware of a series of ancient wards impeding their progress, and the moment she touched them the Light within her burned.

The wards were cut through, and in a matter of hours they left them behind.

On through the mountains they continued, not stopping for anything, even the paltry fortress they spotted off the beaten trail. Bellar claimed it could prove a threat to put something at their backs, but Imara merely looked at him until he relented.

Nothing could stop them while the Light resided in their hearts.

Around her the Light gleamed from her army until they seemed clad in gold. It did not wane, but grew stronger as they marched, invigorating their steps until they were easily able to keep up with her at a moderate jog for hours. As they crested the mountains and penetrated the foothills beyond, she felt invincible.

Yet the further they journeyed, the more her own Light waned. On into the farmlands of Pax’Vrell, she left golden footsteps wherever she walked. Her Spirit could not contain it, no matter what she tried—and with the Light fading, her visions returned.

Memories, a voice within her said. They’re memories…

Images of another person stole through her thoughts, a specter hounding her across imaginary fields of a place she once studied. Shadowing her through dark halls with creaky floors and countless knick knacks upon the shelves. Imara refused to believe they were memories, because they contained no piece of the Light, only an emptiness that she could not fit within.

Yet the specter persisted.

The Light was leaving, and her certainty fled with it—Why? Why was this happening to her?

Navarre… he did this to me. Once again she recalled that terrifying moment when the Unbound had grasped her and tore away a piece of her Spirit. It hurt still, an echo of agony sharp enough to cut.

Yes, Chosen. He Must Be Punished For His Impudence.

Imara started. Pathless. You do not usually speak so often.

Power Has Been Garnered, Chosen. It Will Aid Us In The Days To Come.

Must Felix be killed? What he has revealed to me…why can he not be captured? I have many questions I must answer.

Dangerous. He Carries A Poison In His Words. In His Very Flesh. We Cannot Allow It To Spread, Least Of All To You. The Light within her swelled, as comforting as it was overbearingly hot. He Has Already Infected The Minotaur And The Gnome. The Poison Must Be Stopped. Only Then Might We Avert The Calamity Coming For This World.

The Ruin. Imara hesitated. As comforting as the Light was within her, it could not chase away the shadows in her heart. What if I am too weak? True fear rippled through her. Those were the words she had most feared voicing. What if I cannot defeat him?

For the first time, she felt the Pathless grow angry. Do Not Question Me, Chosen. You Will Do Your Duty. You Will Find The Strength.

For All Things Are Possible Under The Light.

Light surged again, filling her, and the Need within burned all the brighter. A fog faded from her thoughts, and in the clarity she fixated upon her goal. Her only Need.

Navarre’s end.

Felix hustled through the halls of the Scalebreaker Citadel, alone and on a mission. Dragoons and Drakengard stepped out of his way, clearly unfamiliar with him but just as clearly unwilling to stop him.

Are you growling at people again? Pit asked.

No. He wasn’t, was he? Felix realized he couldn’t be sure. Why?

I can feel you, remember? Even down in the armory. He could tell Pit was pacing. Are you sure you don’t need me with you?

I’m sure. Felix turned a corner and made an effort at relaxing his face. Armed guards still scurried from his path like frightened children. Did Harn have any trouble gaining access to a forge?

Nope. He’s working now, and so is a team of…I wanna say hundreds, but that feels like too many. Lots.

Felix grunted. Much as Harn had produced weapons and armor fine enough to keep their rebel army alive, he was back in the mix to get the rest of the Dragoons into fighting shape. He’d worried that they would balk at Harn’s involvement, but it seemed war changed everyone’s tune.

An army was coming to their gates.

They couldn’t run, not without access to the Shadowgate…and not if Imara was coming for them. Once Vess had told him what the Duke had detected, he had immediately felt for his sister. She was shrouded, same as the other Unbound, but there was no doubt in his Mind that she would be at the head of the invasion. Once she arrived, she would destroy the city and its people. Felix refused to let that happen to anyone, let alone to Vess' home.

He stepped into the study to find things exactly as Pit and the Eidolons had described it. Toppled shelving and scattered books were everywhere, interrupted only by smears of charred blood. The bodies of the Priests were gone, carried away to be burned.

I’m here.

He walked up to the once-secret entrance and peered within. The Shrine was beyond, devastated with cruel intent. Taking a deep breath, he put out his arm—and it stopped halfway, as if he’d run into a solid wall.

System Alert: Access Denied

Bearer Of The Thief of Fate Title Is Barred From All Divine Locations

Primordials Are Barred From All Divine Locations

Felix pulled his arm back. You said you tried to enter right? And the Eidolons?

Yeah. Even tried a few Dragoons. No one could enter. They don’t even have the Thief of Fate Title or Primordial Race. It’s just locked against everyone.

Let’s test that.

Felix put both hands against the invisible barrier, and flared his Strength. The patterned stone beneath his feet cracked. He tried again, putting his shoulder against it until pain shot up his back and the floor cratered, exploding into chips of rock that jumped up several feet.

The barrier was unmarred.

Stick with Harn, Pit. Help him anyway you can for now.

Pit trilled nervously. Are you really going to try it?

I don’t have many options, man.

Felix needed to be stronger. To handle the army, Imara, and then to take on the Pathless himself. To do that he needed to undo whatever the Priests had done to the Shrine, so that the Pathless wasn’t siphoning Siva’s power anymore—and he needed to reach Master Tier. Both of those items were going to take time; time in which his friends and Pax’Vrell itself needed to fend for themselves.

First though, he had to deal with this barrier.

He sat on the ground just outside of it, and pulled up the details on his newest Skill: Sonata of Dominance.

His Tenth Pillar awaited.

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