Alan jolted awake, sending two gods and plenty of friends looking over him jumping back at the sudden movement.

  A surge of lightning struck through him, empowering his body before fatigue set in once more.

  He grabbed for Flint. “Portal patrol. Jager—”

  “Ho, ho! Alan! Already on it!” Flint grabbed Alan’s hand with both of his.

  Alan shook his head in dismay. “Warn the others. Jaeger will use your past to drain you.”

  “Thrrrribby!” Mujungo did a jumping jack. “We gathered that too thanks to your cunning exchange. All the realms have been informed.” He gave a big thumbs up.

  “Orevella… we need her,” Alan said.

  Gosfor timidly stepped up, fidgeting with a hat. “Her and I have patched things up. She no longer thinks me a cowardly doodad. And one other thing, her forces march.” He pointed out Alan’s throne room window, where the sound faintly came through.

  “It’s all thanks to you, Alan.” Neesha smiled.

  “I fear what awaits us,” Gosfor said.

  “Fear is good.” Elkire beamed. “It reminds us what it means to find courage.”

  “Courage we will need.” Madam Mar turned away from her summon. “The grounds of Ojin tremble from all corners, I’m afraid.”

  “We need to find out who else Jaeger has.” Alan struggled off the bed. “Who else he will target.” He looked to Mujungo. “How are you holding since your uncle?”

  Mujungo held up a finger, red lightning streaking past his eyes. “There is no one from my past that will sway me, Alan. They left me to my own devices, and now I have this. Rrrribaoi! Unlikely Guds is my family now, ’til our next death.” He scrunched his fist, and two frogs did side flips from behind him.

  “Good.” Alan summoned his armor, shaking off the fatigue as best he could. “The same goes for all of you. Search yourselves and imagine your deepest connections coming back to haunt you.”

  Flint pursed his lips as the Fate Chasers turned away.

  “I don’t know what he’ll throw at us, but it will be more than his armies,” Alan assured.

  “Aye, we’re with you, Sir Alan.” Durger walked in, fully formed, with Sir Ooman at his side. “We are Token’s protectors now.”

  Warmth blanketed Alan’s heart, causing the sun outside to brighten. “How long was I out?”

  “Mere hours,” Flint assured.

  The creaking of a wheelchair resounded from outside, and in rolled a familiar old lady knitting to her heart’s content with two ornate gloves guiding her chair. “The cavalry has arrived, ladies and gentlemen.” She winked.

  Another lightning bolt struck through Alan—this time full of adrenaline.

  “The might of Hutten Fie will be our prime defense. To Lady Orevella!” Alan balled his fist.

  “Hoo!” the Fate Chasers cheered.

  “Alright, I’m going to manage the prompts on my way to the under-prison. Lucius and Trish were with Hozzod, so surely I can get some information out of them.”

  “With haste, Alan,” Mardonnus warned. “With haste.”

  Alan pulled Ara’s golden feather. “Battle positions, everyone. Await my order. Gods, guard your realms.” He rushed out of the room and dove for his incoming chariot.

  Godly strength was returning. The propulsion of his leap tested the speed of his ethereal chariot, which caught him flawlessly.

  “To the under-prison, Ara.”

  As he watched soldiers marching around the outskirts of his town, he retreated into a pocket of ultimate consciousness. He was coming to understand that he’d existed within it for a brief period before Flint summoned him back to land. His pull wasn’t as strong as that moment he was a floating consciousness in Token, but he could still make waves.

  His old pendant showed him a color wheel of Saro that spread into a map of the four interconnected realms. Buildings, landscapes, and people were easily identifiable by shapes and Saro color intensity. Seeing batches of Orevella’s soldiers patrolling each realm gave that extra blanket of comfort he needed in case Jaeger were to march.

  His finger was on the pulse of this beating conjoined sphere, and he met no resistance as he crossed thresholds.

  Gosfor and Roland visited each portal with Orevella to construct mazes in hopes to bottleneck intruders. The problem was, portal circumferences had become exponentially wider since the realm merger.

  By willing it, Alan used Gray Saro to construct defensive towers for his town. The roots of his realm sprung up like stone trees, and as soon as the curved roofs were summoned, he directed Wizards and Hunters to man them.

  Alan Broadcast:

  I want to reiterate, this is an emergency situation. Invasion is imminent. We need all able warriors on standby for orders. All non-warrior citizens… we will protect you with our lives. For the alliance!

  Alan Broadcast:

  Two Wizards and two Hunters with minimum of tier-four fog experience, head to the northern entrance of Token Town and man the newly constructed towers. If you are seeing this message, you are being called for duty. First four who make it there complete this task. All others, stand by for orders.

  The collective anxiety of normal working people reached him immediately, and the comradery of warriors followed shortly after. A part of him wondered if that was why his first form filtered out all emotion—so he could work logically and quickly in governing the realm.

  Although, he didn’t see it as a hinderance. On the contrary, he’d use it to remember mortality and the immediacy it demanded.

  Whoosh!

  The chariot curved harshly toward the valley of the under-prison, while Alan tossed ten more broadcasts directing warriors to locations. It frightened him greatly that Mujungo found a budding portal section that wasn’t there before. They’d have to be quick on their feet if they were to avoid being sabotaged. Thankfully, Mujungo’s Stalker cove and Gosfor’s Iron Cellar were willingly on the job.

  Waking up in this frenzy, Alan had to dial back if he was going to go into his own lion’s den—that of his starkest betrayers.

  As his chariot touched down, multi-colored frogs began popping out of the ground, mooing incessantly for his attention. They burped comic strip bubbles, but Alan didn’t have time.

  “Not now.” He waved his hands away while looking to the magically created tunnel. “I know he’ll use my father to disarm me. You’ve already showed me all tha—”

  Ribbit!

  A frog with a long beard and a Wizard’s hat burst from the ground, flying over Alan in slow motion. They locked eyes… one set crazed and the other perplexed.

  Ribb, ribb, ribbit!

  A comic strip of pure Black dread enveloped Alan, and although he could wave it away with one godly finger, the image blooming to life kept him entranced. It showed Mujungo in chains—his headdress all black and white. Legions of soldiers marched over Token, each with a Dreamcatcher at the center, holding up a manifestation of Jaeger’s cloudy face so he could relish in what he was conquering.

  The image flashed to his friends being stripped of their armor and whipped by Stalkers. The atmosphere was all dreary cloud and fiery explosions in the backdrop.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  This was to be a massacre.

  “Why show me this?” Alan seethed, turning to see that his entire periphery was consumed by more dread. “I already know what can be!”

  The vision dissipated from Alan’s momentous call, and the frogs scattered throughout the air like insects in the wind.

  In a vacuum of the realm’s anxiety, Alan dove headfirst into the windy Saro tunnel snaking him deep into the under-prison. He emerged with a front flip that cracked the cave ground beneath him. As he took his first glance, he realized the Knights he left in charge of the prison may not have been the most humane choices.

  Enemies hung from ceiling chains, most of whom were malnourished and unconsious. Alan couldn’t believe Neesha would let her sister, Foretta, exist in these conditions. He walked along a harsh marble bridge with a black pit on either side of him, heading toward the cave cells. As he crossed a Token Knight, he asked about the hanging prisoners.

  “They requested the punishment themselves,” the Knight said.

  Alan furrowed his brow, taking a good long look at the Cerrain prisoner and the Knights guarding them. “To what end?”

  “They believe Sar’fidious demands repentance for their failure in the afterlife,” the Knight said. “They’d bang on the bars until we let them hang. Some refuse to eat until they receive a prompt from their god.”

  Alan shook his head. “They surely died then.”

  The Knight nodded solemnly. “They are extreme warriors, noble Alan.”

  “Mm.” He lowered his gaze. “Trish and Lucius?”

  “Right this way.”

  The caves were all crystalized in onyx and sapphire, reflecting amber light from well-lit torches, and toward the edge of the row—as prisoners gawked and scoffed at the god confining them—two caves were silent.

  “Lucius.” The Knight motioned to the last cave. “Trish.” He motioned to the second to last. “I will remain to escort you wherever you’d like to go next.”

  “Thank you.” Alan went straight to the last cave, having second thoughts before even entering. The lies, betrayal, snark. He didn’t have time to wade through all of it with Jaeger marching and the apocalypse imminent. But that angering vision pushed him forward.

  As he stepped through the Black sludge, a prison of Orange Saro art lay everywhere. Detailed pictures of a woman in various saintly poses hung throughout the cove, with Lucius sitting chained in the center.

  “There was a dream that was Cerrain. This is not it.” Lucius threw down his Saro brush, which melted into the floor. “Their prince chained, warriors lost to dark gods.”

  “Why do they hang from the ceiling like bats?” Alan asked. “You know what, never mind.”

  Lucius tilted his head. “Something is different about you. You don’t seem like that stoic harsh god who claimed the realm.” He rose from his seat, and that was when Alan noticed how sunken his eyes were. The man was in real pain.

  “Lucius…”

  “I pray that every day here is a mere second in Cerrain. But seeing my warriors here… it’s hard to tell myself that any longer.” He touched one of his paintings. “You will get me home, Alan. You will. But the question is, when?”

  “Have I wasted my time coming here?” Alan asked.

  “That depends. Why have you come?” Lucius stalked to be a mere foot away from Alan, judging his godly stature and pristine armor… the carpet-like shawl weaved in between. “You’re less Merchant and more Knight now. I suppose that’s what war calls for.”

  “Who does Jaeger have to combat us? What are his plans?” Alan asked.

  Lucius turned on his heel, each step rattling more than the last. “I told you my stint in their presence was brief. You’ll have better luck with your ex-princess.”

  “Surely you must know something?” Alan kept his voice low despite his growing anger. “Jaeger came sneaking into Strangey Town using Mujungo’s Origin uncle. How could he possibly have such intel?”

  “How could Mujungo have found you, oh great ruler of Token?”

  “The frogs foretold of me. So he hunted using his scouts,” Alan said.

  “Of course. Gods use every tool at their disposal. The frogs are Mujungo’s gift for such zany chaos. You, in all your brokering ways, have discovered a method to pull literal realms together. Hmph. Surprised? All the Knights are talking about it. But that’s not the point. Jaeger is something else entirely.”

  “Spill it.”

  Lucius rubbed his temples. “That god is manipulation incarnate. He instills that sentiment in every loyal follower. He hunts for it. That gargoyle you destroyed was a prime example.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything.” Lucius growled. “Strangey has clairvoyant frogs. Hozzod has dwelling snakes; they show the desired past if a bite is suffered. And rest assured, since the Red Pact was formed, he has plenty of peons to sacrifice.”

  “That’s helpful,” Alan said. “One mystery less.”

  Lucius frowned. “It won’t do you any good. What’s done is done. He is so far ahead you couldn’t fathom what he has in store. He wouldn’t have acted otherwise. The confidence of his goons told it so.”

  Alan clenched his jaw. “You sound like he has grown to be your idol.”

  “A prince must know the reality of his enemy. And so too must a god.” Lucius smiled sadly.

  “A god and a prince must defend their people, Lucius, no matter the odds. Give me something I can use.”

  “Hm.” Lucius stared up at his largest painting of Luness. “Jaeger… he is the one god who devotes his entire existence to wield the most legendary of Ojin items. His inability to see what the war realm produces drives him mad.”

  “Seems like he’s getting around it just fine using Dreamcatchers,” Alan said.

  “I’d say that’s the same as watching the world go by from an ivory tower,” Lucius scoffed. “You’re missing the point. Dangle something in his all-seeing eye to distract him. Maybe then you can strike a meaningful blow.”

  Alan began to pace. “We fight an army twenty times our size. Maybe more.”

  “Assuming he was able to mobilize it in its entirety so quickly.” Lucius arced an eyebrow. “He may only allude to its size to demoralize you. Remember. There are no shortcuts in Ojin. Portals must be taken systematically, even in war times… or so I’m told.”

  That’s the speck of hope I needed.

  Alan stared long and hard at his old friend. The torment in him, the glimmer of his old self that he quickly masked in his melancholy.

  “I will remember this the next time I’m contemplating your sentence.” Alan made way for the cave exit.

  Lucius hooted. “Tell me, why did you decide to come this way? I thought your days conversing with Cerrain snakes were over?”

  Alan looked over his shoulder. “I heard your prayer.”

  A quick glimpse of determination in Lucius’ expression reminded Alan of the old Stalker he first met, but it fleeted all the same.

  The black depths of the cave exit shivered away from Alan as he walked through. He nodded to the Knight waiting for him and contemplated whether a visit to Trish would be worth the anxiety.

  She would know more than anyone.

  She spent the most time with them.

  Alan bared his teeth, staring at the Black nothingness of her cave. Now that his emotions were back, it hurt him to take this next step.

  Vwom.

  The Black Saro parted to reveal Trish sitting cross-legged in the center of a destroyed cove. A wooden table lay broken, slanted on the cracked fourth leg. Glass shards from a broken mug crunched under Alan’s boot, and Trish’s normally kempt hair was a tangled mess.

  “Come to hang me in a church again? Spank me for my sins?” She peered up at him with crazed eyes.

  Alan sighed.

  “Who would’ve thought this is how we would end up.” She let her arms fall to the floor, then grabbed piles of dirt under the cracked wood. “It’s like some sick revenge fantasy in your favor.”

  Alan narrowed his eyes. Should he bring up that she was the one who plotted to thwart him? Or would that just be a waste of time he didn’t have to spare?

  “What do you know about Jaeger’s plot to rule?” Alan pushed past the noise.

  She scoffed and threw dirt at his feet. “I couldn’t care less about that.”

  Alan took a forceful step forward. “On the contrary, Trish. Power is all you ever craved; you chase it.”

  A shadow of a smile flashed on her face, then a deep frown. “You took what I cared for from this world.”

  Alan narrowed his eyes. “Do you mourn Hyndole, Trish…? Or do you pretend?”

  She smiled wickedly at him.

  “That’s what I thought. You know—”

  Boom!

  Debris fell from the ceiling above them, causing them both to look up.

  “Don’t waste too much time, Alan. He’s already arrived.” Her smile grew even wider.

  Alan blinked to his Saro vision, scanning the direction of the commotion far above him.

  Boom!

  Two new towers were being erected by Lady Orevella to defend against a wide portal range.

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s only our preparations,” Alan said, blinking back to normal vision.

  “It doesn’t matter. Only a matter of time.” She shrugged.

  “Do you even know what he fights for, Trish?”

  “A seat at the table, of course. When all the dust settles, he and I will be recognized for our cunning acts and find our rightful spot beside Jaeger. It is foretold.” She moaned. “Hyndole fights with such cunning purpose that it’s impossible to pull away.”

  A Beige patch of sand pooled to her cheeks and fell to the floor, making Alan wonder if she was still being persuaded. But when she clawed for the sand and shoved it back in her mouth, he realized it was true… This was all she’d ever wanted.

  “So the outcome doesn’t matter?” Alan said. “The endless death?”

  She turned away sharply, and then it hit him like a pile of bricks. The vision the frogs showed him… he could use that here. Trish might have been headstrong and ambitious, but back then, she was a force for good. An inkling of that must still live within her.

  He held out his hand and willed the Vosh coin to zoom out of his pouch, where he caught it with a ting. The entire cave turned to the mimicked vision the frog showed him. A gray sky, endless soldiers marching in tight ranks, multiple manifestations of Jaeger’s face smiling as he watched from Dreamcatcher’s summons.

  Trish’s brow furrowed.

  “Is this really what you want?” Alan asked. “I may have been a schlep on Earth, but I rose to the occasion here—to prevent this.” He presented the apocalypse of bodies. “What will your legacy be?”

  Her expression softened, then hardened once more, Beige lines curving around the features of her face. “To rebuild and start anew requires difficult choices, Alan. You taught me that a long time ago.”

  She twisted the proverbial knife, but Alan was far from the down-on-his-luck salesmen she knew on that apartment couch.

  “Your realms will burn, but don’t worry, I’ll make them better.” She smiled, a hint of red in her irises.

  “How far you’ve fallen.” Alan shook his head, blinking to the Saro vision of dreadful Black and persuasive Beige swirling around her. In his heart, he knew she could’ve pushed Hyndole’s spells away with her level of Black Saro. Thing is, she invited it.

  “This won’t be the last time we meet, Alan.” She smirked. “For the record, it was good to have you one last time.”

  Heat rushed to his face as he turned to leave.

  A dark thought to torture information out of her crossed his mind. These were desperate times. Tens of thousands of innocent lives depended on it. But he wouldn’t make his first defensive move one of sheer evil.

  The Saro parted like curtains to let him exit, and with a sigh of frustration, he realized it was time to count his wins and leave this prison.

  Another lightning bolt of energy struck him. How a godly vessel reenergized was nothing like a mortal one. Power flowed back in jarring intervals and depleted like a roaring river.

  The realm merger.

  I’ve done my ultimate deed as god of Token. Now all that’s left is to use every ounce of my mortal training, convert it into power, and give everything to stop them.

  That’s an ending worthy of rest.

  I can die with that.