Bodies draped in long cloths were carried on stretchers out of the town square. It was a ritual of the dead in High Tower Brack, which now became one in Token.

  Strangey Town flying squirrels circled the solemn warriors, which Alan guessed also became part of Token. Things were changing. A coming together in the face of tragedy was something he didn’t know he needed. But he did.

  Alan remained to rebuild what had been broken, somberly twisting his godly Saro to mend shattered castle towers and reinforce them with cohesive Saro. All the while he glimpsed the prisoners of war being escorted toward the underground cell blocks. The chanting for Sar’fidius persisted despite the end of battle, serving as a constant reminder of what he’d done.

  Destroying an entire realm with his bare ethereal hands… the cry of Cerrain souls… it made Alan’s eyes heavy with sorrow.

  After hours of picking up the pieces, he decided to drag his possessed father down to the dungeon too. Flashbacks of battle made him wince along the way. Itsy working to cut through his heart and his father helping her guide the blade through… it broke him on a level he didn’t know possible.

  This life is as twisted as the first.

  Alan decided to take the normal route through the greens toward the under-prison sinkhole entrance, admiring the setting sun and really taking in all that happened. He was in his own head replaying it all when Neesha stepped out from the town square to cut him off.

  She hugged a stone tight as her robes dirtied beneath her feet, glancing at Alan’s father. “There’s a resemblance.”

  “My father,” Alan said glumly.

  “I see. Was wondering why he was half-buried in the ground before. One of the bad realms?”

  Alan shrugged. “Apparently that’s all that’s left.”

  Whack!

  Alan’s woke up from the slap.

  “The entire weather patterns change when you sulk,” Neesha scolded. “How about head up and count your damn blessings we still have life in us.”

  Rick’s eyes flickered like a broken lamp.

  “And what the hell is with him?” Neesha furrowed her brow.

  “Dealing with his own struggles. A god imbued him at a pretty high cost,” Alan said.

  “Mm. Anyway, I brought this for you.” She lifted the stone.

  “I don’t think now’s the best time…”

  “Nonsense. Sit.” Neesha tugged him to the ground, then gently guided the wrapped blade away from her. “Can we take that thing out of you yet?”

  “Afraid not. This keeps Hyndole from corrupting anyone else.”

  Neesha looked up to Rick worriedly.

  “He’s fine,” Alan assured. “Subdued.”

  “If you say so.” Neesha brushed off the stone and placed it between them. “This is a Ways of the Universe Answer Stone. I picked it up early on in my journey to understanding war. Thought it was a bunch of vague drake fodder, but I see it differently now…”

  She grabbed Alan’s hands and activated the stone.

  Stone of Universal Tidings

  Why must creation suffer threat of destruction?

  The idea of mortality inherently invites destruction. By beginning a life with a known end, such life will come to know the inevitable end of all things, and some may choose to accelerate the process. In an attempt to establish a sense of control, a mortal may exercise its free will to destroy the things around them.

  Those who adopt godhood retain these mortal senses of control.

  “This is more depressing than anything,” Alan sighed.

  “Shut it!” Neesha scoffed. “Keep reading.”

  Stone of Universal Tidings

  Does the universe consider the idea of good and evil?

  Yes. Natural creation of life as a result of the universe’s process is considered sacred and “good.” Destruction with the sole intent of control, domination, or punishment in most cases would be considered “evil.”

  By entering into creation, the universe adhered to the risk of evil taking over and essentially rotting all that had been created. However, there are “steering” effects that grant worthy entities means of resistance in the name of “good.”

  To become worthy, an entity must display noble intent on a repetitive basis and live in the name of creation, not destruction.

  Neesha opened her eyes smugly. “When I picked this one up, I nearly threw it into the swamp. I already knew the balance of what you call yin and yang. But now, after hearing the stories of what transpired in Hutten Fie, and watching you, Alan… I think I get it.”

  Alan took a deep breath, internalizing what he just read.

  “You’re on the universe’s good side.” Neesha smiled. “And we’re all alive because of it.”

  “I’m not as pure as you think, Neesha.” Alan got up, disconnecting from the stone prompts. “I’m sure the universe is aware of what I’ve done.”

  Neesha rose and yanked on Alan’s sleeves. “We’re in war, Alan. The universe knows your intent is to stop it.”

  “Don’t fall into the trap your Cerrain family did. Believing in Sar’fidius as their one true god, or believing in the universe as some all-knowing force… it’s dangerous.” Alan looked around. “There’s death everywhere.”

  “A casualty of free will… A notion I myself have… learned the hard way.” Neesha peered along with him. “And a reminder of fleeting beauty.” She reached up and kissed him. “Don’t lose yourself, Alan. We need you.”

  Alan nodded curtly, forcing a smile. “You’re right. Do me a favor and gather the others to the throne room. I’ll meet you there in two hours.”

  She smiled back at him. “Another ride on Flint’s sled then.”

  “Or Mar’s dirt.” Alan squeezed her arm affectionately, then grabbed his father by the chains once more.

  He was sick of hauling his friends and family by shackles, but their twists and turns kept landing them on the wrong side of things.

  Eyes gravitated toward Alan as he walked beside other Token warriors escorting their prisoners. Alan’s was the most lavish after all—golden multi-set wings drooping to either side, battle gauntlets and Greek-style garb flying in the wind. His father was a sight to behold.

  “Nothing to say for yourself?” Alan asked.

  “The Scar’s Light has decreed your execution. That is all,” Rick said monotone.

  “Seems you failed there, not for lack of trying.” Alan motioned to the sword sticking through his chest.

  “So I have.”

  Alan shook his head. “You’re still in there somewhere. And if I can overcome a god’s strict, emotionless fate, you can too.”

  Rick dipped his head as he moved ahead of Alan. “I accepted my poison in the name of the realm.”

  “You’ve been brainwashed, Dad. That’s all there is to it.”

  They walked in silence until they got to the sinkhole of White Saro winds. Without a second thought, Alan shoved his father in and hopped down beside him. They funneled to the deep caves of hanging Cerrain prisoners and lit sconces. Noticing the overflow of new prisoners, Alan stretched out the cave wall by thinking it and carved rows of new cells for the Knights to utilize.

  “You accommodate your people,” Rick said.

  “And?”

  “It is odd to see. Usually it is the people who accommodate a god.”

  Alan narrowed his eyes. “Works better this way.”

  “Not always,” he assured.

  As they made way to the end of the isle, all the way to the far left, Trish’s Black Saro cell entrance turned translucent with her sitting cross-legged at the base.

  “Mr. Right. What a pleasant surprise.” Trish clicked her tongue. “I thought you were meant to save us from all this.” She jangled her chains.

  Rick side-eyed Alan’s ex then kept forward.

  “What? No words for your failure? Thanks for nothing.” Her eyes lingered on Alan, noticing the dragon-cloth with gold trim swaying as he walked. “And what the hell happened to you?”

  Alan tapped the blade. “The fractured soul of your beloved. Two down,” Alan taunted. “If I find a planted tree in your cell, I might burn it just for the hell of it.”

  Trish punched the Saro encasing, making it ripple. She became feral, yelling her dismay. Alan only snapped his fingers to shut her out in an extra casing of Black Saro.

  “Quite the commotion you’ve stirred.” Lucius leaned casually on the wall of his cave cell.

  “Not time for jokes, Lucius,” Alan said.

  “Do you take me as the type?” Lucius took in the visual curiously, lingering more on Alan’s wound than anything. “You survived the unthinkable. Congratulations.”

  “You sound thrilled.” Alan pulsed a hole in the blank cave wall to create and additional cell. With a swipe of his hand, he swept all of the debris on the floor and wafted the dust away, then shoved his father inside.

  “On the contrary, Alan Right. I’m quite pleased to see you alive.” Lucius smirked.

  Alan’s heart sunk when he watched his father dejectedly sit in the middle of his new home, rotating his wrists outward to accept the Saro shackles clawing up from the floor. It was like he knew of his terrible task but could do nothing about it. It made Alan want to understand the “absolutes” Rick was on about. Just not today.

  Alan coated the entrance with harsh Black Saro and turned to a Token Wizard waiting to speak with him. “Make sure his cell is reinforced and acknowledged by two others. That goes double for any Scar’s Light battle angel who steps foot down here.”

  “Yes, great Alan. It will be done.” The Wizard bowed and stepped up to the cell.

  “Thank you.” Alan bowed his head back and began walking away from the edge of the prison.

  “Alan.” Lucius pushed off the wall. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

  Alan snapped his fingers, darkening Lucius’ cell entrance on his way out.

  #

  Alan dropped from his chariot overlooking the endless valleys from his mountain, the sting of the blade more of a numbing reminder now. There was commotion inside his gryphon throne room. Could it be… laughter?

  He swung open the door to his closest allies toasting ale and spilling it all over his floor.

  “What the—?”

  “The great Alan is here!” Madam Mar ran up to hug him, nearly impaling herself as she did. “Ooh, ooh right. Apologies.” She tapped the gothic blade before resting her head on the other side of his chest. “Strangey Town’s Healer was able to save her, Alan. Itsy lives. It took a turn for the worse for a second after she regained consciousness. Gods, she gave us a scare. But that’s behind us now.” She beamed. “Not only that, their Healing Ward was able to bring thousands back from the brink of death. The town is rejoicing at the news.”

  Alan sighed with relief. “That is good news. But we mustn’t forget—”

  “I had a gravesite constructed, Alan. The mourners mourn in peace, I assure you.”

  “Very good.” Alan sighed again.

  “Now, please, have a drink.” Mar bustled back to get an ale from the barmaid they must’ve flown in from town.

  “Uhh, it might leak right through me.” He presented Hyndole.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Nonsense. You just saved the universe, drink.”

  Alan wanted to tell them the grave news of Jaeger already destroying countless realms, but he simply didn’t have the heart.

  “Aha, aha, aho!” Flint did a jig that was suspiciously familiar to an Irish one as he failed to balance the mug on his way to Alan.

  Alan couldn’t help but burst out laughing when he grabbed the handle, the numbed pain of the blade nearly forgotten entirely.

  “My lady lives! Cheers, good Alan!” Flint clinked the mugs.

  “I guess when you were performing your epic feat of freezing a category-five-tornado portal, you missed the part where she stabbed me through the chest!” Alan presented exhibit A.

  “Hip hop, nonsense. Drink up!” Flint laughed again, then exhaled a satisfying burp. “Gosfor told me everything. The dark possessing, the containment of Hyndole. Goodness. This war is brutal, isn’t it? Which is why we must drink like it’s our last day!”

  Neesha carefully stepped past the mounting puddles to get to them, then swiftly grabbed Alan by the hand and gave him a big kiss on the lips.

  The others in the room “oooohed!” followed by a hearty laugh from Elkire.

  “Was wondering when that’d be official. You two fit like two gryphon feathers. Not like that Stalker woman who sold us out.”

  “Yeah, screw that bitch.” Tenger spit on his floor, eyes glazed.

  Neesha shot Alan a smug, knowing look.

  “So what’s it feel like getting drunk as a god?” Flint asked. “Hah! Just kidding. I already know.” He presented Mujungo passed out on the floor, burping with a bloated belly.

  Clouds with concerned faces floated up to Alan’s window and thundered outside of it.

  “He’s fine. He’s fine,” Flint assured, waving exaggeratedly for them to go away.

  The clouds narrowed their eyes at Flint and slowly floated away from the window.

  Partying went on for hours. Once the sun began to set, they took it outside the throne room to the breezy mountaintop, where Alan flipped out all his minions and souls to partake in the festivities. Flint watched with steadfast curiosity to see if ale would leak right through Durger, and when it didn’t, they both cheered.

  Yogi and Gardstrife clinked oversized tea cups that Alan still had no idea where they came from, and Hendra was trying on different versions of Ufanda as the Fate Chasers drunkenly judged the fashion show. It was a hell of a sight, especially through the buzzed eyes of a god. For a few hours, the bright memories grew a little hazy… something Alan was eternally thankful for.

  He leaned up against Elkire’s gryphon with his arm around Neesha, taking it all in.

  For all the hell they’d endured, Alan was glad they hadn’t lost sight of the bright side.

  #

  In the middle of the night, Alan cleared his prompts with a smirk. Thinking of all his friends buzzed from that Royal Horde ale made for some good laughs, and a perfect distraction from what Alan had to do earlier.

  He hated being a god more than anything. The pressure, incessant pinging, bright memories always floating to the front of his mind, and Saro felt like a tangible quintessence that lived and breathed everywhere around him. At least as a mortal, he could call upon it as needed. As a god? It was present at all times.

  Pressing his hand flat on the ground, he traced the Saro feeling all the way down to the graveyard Madam Mar had built for the fallen.

  Rest in peace, warriors. Wherever your journey takes you next, know I’m thankful you worked to spare us from the Red Pact.

  His prayer was silent and brief, and apparently… interrupted.

  Shwooo!

  A gust of wind, followed by frantic banging on his front door, startled him to his feet.

  He thought the worst—Jaeger had already figured out how to defend against the Destroyer of Realms Title. The Red Pact was invading.

  “What is it?” Alan said with concern.

  “Great Alan, apologies for the intrusion.”

  Alan opened the door to a Wizard with a braided beard and two pink-colored eyes, holding his hat. He seemed bashful.

  “Apologies, but it seems a prisoner has fled his cell.”

  Alan furrowed his brow. My father.

  “The battle angel in the far corner?” Alan asked.

  The Wizard shook his head. “The Cerrain prince. Lucius Kiar.”

  A very Orange flame webbed throughout Alan’s body. His first thought was assassination attempt. Should he put the realm on high alert? How the hell did he get out in the first place?

  “You scoured the cell? He could’ve been hiding as a shade and waiting for you to undo the Saro block,” Alan suggested.

  “We are sure, great Alan. It has been checked by Wizard and Doomsayer alike. There is no presence in his cell.”

  “Very well.” Alan walked out into the warm breeze.

  “Sir?” The Wizard followed along.

  “Thank you for informing me so promptly. I’ll take it from here. Do not alert the townspeople yet. I need time to fish him out.”

  “It will be done.” The Wizard bowed, then puffed off Alan’s mountaintop.

  Alan sat cross-legged on the gravel, inverting his vision to the Saro flow, feeling everything around him.

  The prick couldn’t have gone far.

  He pressed his hands to the ground, traveling miles in an instant, checking every nook and cranny of the realm. Being omnipotent would be helpful right about now—he’d imagine he’d be able to pinpoint him in a second if he hadn’t been summoned for war. Then again, he never wanted to float around as an all-seeing consciousness again.

  Focus. He swerved through the town, knowing he’d be able to spot Lucius’ signature as soon as he stumbled upon it. Bright Orange with hints of Black. Even if Lucius shed his armor, Alan knew the Black would cling to his wicked form.

  No portals had been opened since the Red Pact’s exit, which meant he was somewhere within the alliance. Stretching to the fringes of Token, not even a hint of him was to be found. It made him worry he’d have to call in the other gods for the search.

  How embarrassing.

  Alan rewound all of his ethereal feelers back to him, doing a reverse sweep along the way. As his Saro detection climbed back up to his mountain, everything stopped mere feet away. A detection… at the edge of his mountaintop behind his throne room.

  He drew his double-blade and made his way to the presence, touching his stone gryphon along the way.

  There, sitting at the edge facing the endless valley, was Lucius.

  “Took you long enough,” Lucius said.

  Alan walked up beside him, glancing at his chains.

  “Oh, these?” Lucius held up his wrists, and dissipated the Saro shackles to dust.

  “All this time, you were pretending to be a prisoner?” Alan asked.

  “I had to. In a blink you could’ve reinforced my chains with your new godly strength. But I gave you reason not to.”

  “I could nudge you off this ledge right now and inhibit your Saro,” Alan threatened. “You would try to become a shade before you hit the bottom, but it would never come to be.”

  Lucius scoffed. “Isn’t that the truth. But for some reason, I don’t think you will.”

  Alan shook his head and peered down the valley. “How did you trick the Strangey Town guards into thinking they had you confined?”

  “You forget that I met Afarus in the Soul Collector before you did.” Lucius huffed.

  Just the mention of his name hit like a punch to the gut. “He said he never trained you.”

  “That’s true. He refused to refine my combat. But we shared a similar plight. Undying devotion to our beloved. Though he rejected my intentions, the Crimson walker offered guidance to my cause. Black and Orange can reverse-engineer Variant Saro shackles.”

  “I’m aware,” Alan said.

  “Of course. The god of Token—”

  “I knew before I became a god, Lucius.” Alan chuckled.

  “Ah yes, the prophesized Herald of Ojin. How could the frogs ever have been wrong?”

  “Why have you come here?”

  “I thought I told you… I’m going home.”

  “Don’t test me. Today is not the day for it.” Alan’s eyes flashed gold, then faded to normal when Lucius tossed a pendant between them.

  “I know what you saw out there, Alan. I know why you’re solemn despite your epic victory, why the others cheer and you still sulk. You saw what Jaeger has done to the other realms… as have I.”

  Alan’s jaw tensed.

  “When I killed Farante, that pendant shined in the moments of his death, and his recent memories flashed as if they were my own. Meetings with Jaeger, with Hyndole, with Trish. Mujungo’s uncle and Itsafia’s chief. Yes, Alan, he was able to concentrate and project his omnipotent consciousness even before war was declared. The items he possesses are legendary. That’s not all. I saw schemes upon schemes involving dwelling snakes of the past, and all the pieces in place to take out the universe in one fell swoop.”

  “Yet you said nothing,” Alan seethed.

  “Our interests weren’t aligned, Alan. Until now.” Lucius’s eyes glowed orange. “In the prime meeting with Jaeger, I witnessed the black well sitting in his Hozzod domain, forged by Sar’fidius’ scouts, connected to my Origin kingdom. His plan was to drown every god and every prisoner worth their salt into the Black, their souls never to be free again.”

  “Like the Merchant of the Five Pearls,” Alan surmised, his heartrate elevating. “So they aren’t dead.”

  “There are things worse than death,” Lucius said. “When I stared into that well in Five’s realm, I saw what becomes of the souls. When my armor absorbed Farante’s memories, I experienced it for myself.”

  “And how are our interests aligned now, Lucius? You know it’s nearly impossible to trust one word of what you’re saying, as much as I’d want it to be true.”

  Lucius nodded to the pendant. “See for yourself, mighty Merchant.”

  Alan blinked at the item sprawled over the gravel, navigating a powerful trance. His reality darkened as his hearing muffled like he was underwater. And when he emerged from a well of black shadowy substance, Hyndole’s gargoyle form came into focus. He was stirring the gigantic pot, sending unnatural ripples splaying in every direction to his master’s content.

  A hooded Jaeger watched with his hands behind his back and a wicked smirk. “Do you see them? Their silhouettes gasp from irrelevant planes. We are the last hope for those we’ve dragged under. And once they drown further from sight, they are to be forgotten forever. Come now. Let the Dreamcatchers in to scoop their contents.”

  Jaeger nodded to his servants to let the hooded Dreamcatchers in. They carried enormous vases in an organized line, and scooped up the ichor at Hyndole’s direction.

  “Behold, chosen warriors,” Jaeger began, watching them carefully. “Your task is a great one. From our Sar’fidius allies, they have found a way to dispose of our enemies forever. Every Wizard, every Knight, every god brought to their knees in their futile attempts to thwart the Red Pact, will be drowned in your containers. You have the most essential role. Carry it out with purpose.”

  Thinking back to Alan’s trip through ultimate consciousness, he remembered the results of Jaeger’s war. Burnt realms, dead and decayed… it meant his forces had largely succeeded.

  He returned to the present, heavy of breath.

  “Now you see, Alan, I am not lying.” Lucius frowned. “Sar’fidius’ connection is only to Cerrain. The evidence is evident time and time again. And now, in the wake of the Red Pact, all of the souls they’ve conquered now lay in the source of the ichor—in Cerrain—where they’re to twist endlessly for eternity… unless you dare bring them back.”

  “Your wife among them,” Alan sighed.

  “She will be our first rescue.” Lucius nodded.

  The plan was insane. Trusting the prince again was a fool’s choice. And plenty of it still didn’t add up.

  “Why would you need me?” Alan tilted his head.

  “You were the missing ingredient all along.” Lucius dug his finger through the gravel and brightened his drawing with molten Orange Saro, painting a familiar group of items with fine detail in seconds. “A god to push all the Pegs together… so we can go back.”

  He pressed his hands into the rocks, molding his art into one cohesive structure—connecting the Pegs of Fate.

  “We?”

  “There is no transference without a god, Alan. It was foretold in my time in Hozzod, by the singular Stone Chaser who has accumulated great knowledge.”

  “Neesha has done her part,” Alan defended.

  “Don’t make me laugh,” Lucius scoffed.

  Alan’s eyes flashed gold. Lucius only arced an eyebrow, telling him he was somewhat kidding.

  “That’s why you summoned me when Hyndole attacked.” Alan dipped his head.

  “There was more than one reason for that.” Lucius narrowed his eyes. “Whether you believe me or not… I did not seek to see all of my former allies perish in such a gruesome way.”

  Silence came between them.

  Alan didn’t know what to think.

  “If I followed you down this path, it would be just another ruse to try and bury me forever,” Alan stated.

  “Or a plan to reinvigorate this universe you care so desperately for,” Lucius countered.

  “Ridding me of it is the last thing standing in Jaeger’s way of total domination,” Alan said. “If I were to even entertain this, I would send you. Carry out this task without me and prove you’re not as rotten as you seem. Heavens help me if you betray again. I don’t think the Fate Chasers would ever forgive me.”

  Lucius turned sharply away. “There is no travel to an irrelevant Origin without a god sacrificing his power to get there, unfortunately.”

  An opportunity to shed godhood? That sounded blissful. But he had to be careful not to get goaded into this madness.

  “This is my last effort to find Luness, and yours to save the universe,” Lucius admitted.

  Restoring the gods to their realms would mean reversing some of the horrible damage the Red Pact inflicted. It would give the universe a fighting chance.

  Alan looked at his palm, knowing the crushing power he wielded as the Destroyer of Realms. Even if it came down to it… if he had to be the one to eliminate the entirety of the Red Pact, he didn’t think he had it in him to carry out the task. Besides his initial deed against Fel Wrath, the Title was wasted on him. Perhaps he could crush one more barracks before he’d succumb to crippling depression, but that was as far as his willingness to destroy went.

  This insane idea… it was a chance toward real victory. One where there was something left to cheer for.

  It could work.

  Restoring gods would be the only way to truly save what had been lost and revive the universe to its rightful state. He imagined warriors trekking Ojin, clearing fog, gaining status among their people. Then came the frogs’ vision of Jaeger’s conquering apocalypse.

  It’s a shot in the dark, he told himself.

  But hasn’t everything been?

  The other gods could hold the fort. Jaeger is terrified of what I bring.

  He thought of the trance just revealed to him.

  It could work.

  “Where are the Pegs, Lucius? Where did you hide them?”

  Lucius smiled. “Where it all began, under the fire pit in my cove in Strangey Town. Every last one.”

  #

  Alan rounded up his closest allies and quietly used Madam Mar’s flying dirt to cross into Strangey Town. The clouds narrowed their eyes suspiciously as Alan told Flint and Neesha of his plan.

  “I won’t let you go again.” Neesha grabbed onto his arm.

  He squeezed her hand tight. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not, Alan. We finally got a win. If we lose you—”

  “You won’t,” Alan assured. “I’ll find my way back.”

  “Aho, Alan. Not like this. The prince schemes and concocts.” Flint frowned at Lucius sitting on the end of the dirt patch.

  “I would sooner leave him to rot in his cell, but he provided proof this time. The well of eternal Black Saro is indeed connected to Cerrain. That’s where the fallen gods lie.”

  They protested, but Alan painted the picture of ultimate consciousness and the state of the universe—that there were already so few realms left besides theirs. He even brought them into the Bubble of Vosh to show the truth of it.

  The vision took an instant toll. Flint’s hat and whiskers drooped. Neesha’s hands clapped over her mouth. Madam Mar and the Fate Chasers didn’t know where to turn. And Itsy threw boomerangs at the cosmos in protest. Decrepit realms floated uselessly in every direction, appearing as crumbled, burnt spheres.

  When they’d all had enough, Alan rewound the bubble, leaving them all sulking with sunken eyes and torn spirits.

  “Now do you see?”

  The Fate Chasers were horribly suspicious of the prince, but after long huddles and a vicious debate, they ultimately agreed. Based on their knowledge of the Pegs over many years of chasing, they concluded Lucius wasn’t completely delusional. More than one theory aligned with his plan. And to Alan’s relief, the Chasers saw the needs of the universe as a greater plight than their own.

  That was why they were better than Lucius… and always would be.

  “Time is of the essence,” Alan said.

  “There’s still a matter of that damn sword.” Itsy pointed, then nearly fainted from earlier fatigue.

  “Bubby gums, I told you to stay and rest!” Flint caught her.

  “I hate that thing!” She flailed. “I want to watch the gargoyle’s soul burn for what he made me do.”

  “Aho. Don’t you worry. I’d bet all my essence Hyndole’s second form evaporates with Alan’s godhood once he crosses a portal of irrelevance. All of the texts tell the same tale. Though no one knows for sure, chances are the consciousnesses not protected by the Pegs will be shed.”

  “He better!” Itsy huffed.

  “The risk is grave,” Madam Mar said, walking up to Alan. “Not only to you, but to everyone you leave behind here.”

  “You will be in good hands. Gosfor, Mujungo, Orevella. They will protect the alliance. I cannot live in the darkness of the Red Pact, especially if there’s a way to reverse the damage.”

  “I hope you’re right, good Alan,” Madam Mar said. “Because if you’re not… the last bastion you created will be doomed.”

  They both turned to Lucius, who looked over his shoulder.

  “This is my endgame,” his voice rattled. “And it just so happens it’s yours too.”

  Mar’s lips tightened, and Alan took a deep breath.

  After much debate, the group finally agreed… it had to be done. Rescue those who stood against the Red Pact, and make the evil leaders yield.

  Alan gave his careful hugs one last time, and after a lingering last look at his friends, entered the Stalkers cove with a hood so as not to disrupt the air.

  The walk through the cove was reminiscent of the time Lucius rescued him from the town way back when. Stalkers and Doomsayers still dueled in the corners, while low chatter echoed from the bar to their right. Most of the others slept on the floors nearby. He remembered trading that first White essence to Lucius in exchange for getting that caterpillar off his back.

  How far he’d come.

  Lucius wiped away the singed fireplace rocks and pressed his gauntlet over the dirt, blowing it lightly away with a whoosh of Orange Saro. There they were—the Pegs of Fate. A treasure not compiled since the fabled Yineera, and since that tale was likely false, perhaps ever.

  Alan blocked their path by quietly raising Beige Saro sand pillars. He couldn’t believe his eyes as Lucius connected the Pegs together with a wave of his gauntlet—as if he’d tested the process many times before.

  “It’s your turn, Alan.” His eyes flashed orange. “Just know, when you envision our path to Cerrain, you will be stepping into my Origin, and there you will see, I’ll repay all that I’ve wronged you for.”

  “Only because you’re getting what you want, selfish prince.”

  “If only we could all be as strong as the prophesized savior,” he huffed.

  Alan took a deep breath, coming to terms with the fact that the burden of godhood might soon be at an end. Was he really that much better than Lucius? He too wanted something selfishly—to be free.

  That didn’t change his purpose though. He’d do anything to save the alliance. Anything to save his friends.

  He pressed his hand on the contraption, feeling its ancient depths.

  Lucius smiled with genuine joy when the Pegs lit to life.

  “By the time we’re done, you’re not only going to save the universe, it’s going to owe you an unpayable debt.”