The elven delegation retreats back toward the forest edges, their diplomatic veneer barely concealing their actual intent. I watch them go with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, the swamp markings on my skin pulsing faintly in response to my agitation.

  "They want the axe," I mutter once they're out of earshot. "All this talk about alliances and mutual enemies, it's the fragment they're after."

  Morrigan stands beside me, her transformed presence radiating power that still feels strange through our bond. Since her evolution, her energy signature has shifted, becoming more complex, more refined. I sense her thoughtful consideration of the elven proposal.

  "Undoubtedly," she agrees, her voice carrying those new harmonics that seem to resonate with the swamp sounds around us. "But that doesn't mean their information is worthless. If another fragment truly lies within these swamplands, securing it before this lich Malachar claims it serves our interests regardless of what the elves want."

  I turn to Morkath, whose root system has already reconnected with the swamp soil, seeking information through his unique connection to the marshland consciousness.

  "Is it possible?" I ask him. "Could a fragment be hidden in the deep swamp without the Blackmire knowing about it?"

  The transformed troll lord considers this, his yellow-green eyes pulsing as he communes with the swamp network. "Deeper territories... beyond even troll lands. Ancient places where swamp consciousness grows thin. Possible such power could hide there, yes."

  Nerk studies the map the elves provided, his evolved tactical mind assessing routes and potential dangers. "Territory marked here lies three days' journey beyond Blackmire borders. Unexplored even by Morkath's tribe. Unknown threats."

  "But also opportunity," Gorthal interjects, ritual scars pulsing faster as he touches the wrapped axe on his back. "Fragment responds to others of its kind. Could help locate hidden piece."

  That's an interesting possibility I hadn't considered. The axe has demonstrated unusual properties, particularly in proximity to other fragments. It might serve as a detection tool as much as a weapon.

  "We should move quickly," Morrigan advises. "If the elves know of this fragment, Malachar's forces may have similar intelligence. The Death Knights gathering at the swamp borders could be preparing for more than just pursuing us."

  She's right. The timing of the elven appearance, so soon after our encounter with the Death Knights at Skull Peak, suggests multiple factions mobilizing simultaneously. Whatever equilibrium kept these fragments scattered for centuries has clearly broken down.

  "We'll organize an expedition immediately," I decide. "Small, elite force. Maximum mobility without sacrificing combat effectiveness. My four bond lieutenants plus select units from each command hierarchy."

  "I recommend fifty of my best goblin scouts and archers," Nerk suggests. "Light armor, familiar with swamp movement thanks to Morkath's training."

  "Thirty blood-warriors," Gorthal adds. "Elite orc fighters enhanced through ritual bond. Capable of extended combat without resupply."

  Morrigan considers for a moment. "Six hagravens for magical support and aerial reconnaissance. More would attract unnecessary attention."

  "And twenty Blackmire trolls," Morkath concludes. "Knowledge of deep swamp paths, regenerative capabilities for sustained operation."

  With my four bond lieutenants, that puts our expedition at just over a hundred strong, large enough to handle serious threats but small enough to move efficiently through difficult terrain. The remainder of our monster army will continue fortifying our swamp territory against potential Death Knight incursions.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "We depart at dawn," I announce. "Morkath, have your trolls prepare supplies that can sustain us in unknown territories. Morrigan, your hagravens should study that map, identify any magical signatures or anomalies the elves might have hidden in their information. Nerk, Gorthal, prepare your selected forces and brief them on expedition protocols."

  As my lieutenants disperse to execute their orders, I find myself alone with Morrigan. Her transformed presence still catches me off-guard, the power she radiates, the way her form has evolved into something beyond traditional hagraven limitations. Whatever enhancement my bond network provides, she has utilized it more effectively than anyone else.

  "Your transformation," I begin, unsure how to frame the question. "It's significantly more dramatic than expected. How does it feel?"

  She regards me with those penetrating eyes, now containing shifting patterns of color that weren't present before. "Like awakening," she replies after a thoughtful pause. "As if previous existence was half-asleep, perceiving reality through thick fog. Now everything is sharper, clearer. Magic flows as naturally as breathing. Thoughts connect in patterns that were previously inaccessible."

  Her articulation has improved as well, another sign of the cognitive enhancement accompanying her physical evolution.

  "And your connection to the other hagravens?" I ask.

  "Strengthened but changed. They recognize my evolution as something beyond their current potential. It creates natural hierarchy, respect rather than mere obedience." She pauses, studying me with unnerving perception. "You're concerned about the elven warden's interest in me."

  It wasn't a question, and her insight is accurate. The elf Lyraniel had indeed paid particular attention to Morrigan throughout our meeting.

  "She seemed surprised by your evolution," I acknowledge. "Perhaps even concerned."

  "As she should be," Morrigan replies with surprising directness. "Elves maintain power through controlled knowledge and magical superiority. A transformed hagraven approaching or exceeding their capabilities represents a disruption to their established order."

  Her political understanding has sharpened as well. Another benefit of her evolution that could prove invaluable as we navigate the complex factional landscape revealed by the elven delegation.

  "Do you believe their information about the lich Malachar?" I ask.

  "Partially," she responds without hesitation. "The existence of this lich and his Death Knights rings true, it aligns with what we experienced at Skull Peak. The covenant they described likely exists in some form, though I suspect the elves presented it in terms most favorable to their interests."

  "And the fragment in the deep swamp?"

  "Worth investigating regardless of elven manipulation," she concludes. "If it exists, we cannot allow Malachar to claim it. And if the elves have deceived us, we lose nothing but time, while perhaps learning more about their true objectives."

  Her assessment mirrors my own thinking. Whatever game the elves are playing, securing another fragment serves our immediate interests. And exploring the deep swamp could reveal resources or territories valuable to our growing monster army.

  Dawn finds our expedition assembled at the southern edge of Blackmire territory. My four lieutenants lead their respective contingents—Nerk's evolved goblin scouts moving with predatory grace, Gorthal's blood-warriors standing in disciplined formation despite their natural orcish tendencies toward chaos, Morrigan's hagravens perched on elevated branches for better visibility, and Morkath's Blackmire trolls loaded with supplies and equipment suited for deep swamp survival.

  "Three days to reach marked territory," Morkath explains as we prepare to move out. "First day through known paths. Second day through contested marshes, minor tribes, territorial predators. Third day into true deep swamp—ancient waters, old magic, unknown dangers."

  I nod, studying the map one final time. The elves marked the supposed fragment location with a symbol resembling a broken star, appropriately dramatic for an artifact called the Shatterer. The surrounding territory appears largely blank, either unexplored or deliberately left unmarked.

  "Move out," I command. "Standard reconnaissance formation. Nerk's scouts at point, Morrigan's hagravens providing aerial surveillance, Gorthal's warriors and Morkath's trolls flanking the main column."

  As our expedition advances into the deeper swamp, I can't help but reflect on how far we've come. From a single goblin bond in an alien forest to command of a monster army with four evolved lieutenants, each representing the pinnacle of their respective species. Whatever fragment awaits us in the deep swamp, claiming it will only accelerate our growing power in this strange world.