Alan side-eyed the gloves which meant to strangle him mere minutes ago. He tucked in his seat in Orevella’s quaint cabin and accepted the glowing tea she provided. Paintings hung everywhere, all depicting aerial view patterns of Hutten Fie. It was impossible not to recognize the unique structures and soldier formations marching about. She really did cherish what she’d built.

  Outside the pristinely washed window, Alan glimpsed Figro sitting cross-legged in the center of all the tied-up gryphons, peering up at the Helldraken squads flying diligently overhead.

  Kablo sat beside Alan with his head bowed, defeated in every sense of the word. Doubling down on the goddess’s rigid laws showed his failure to read the room, but Alan wasn’t about to beat him up for it. He was merely doing his job as watcher.

  Alan held up his mug to cheer the goblin. “Thank you for respecting the pattern of friendship out in Ojin, Kablo, and for not killing us through the portal in.”

  Elkire slapped the table in laughter. “It is true. Yes. I was worried there for a moment we’d be zapped to another realm if one foot stepped out of line.”

  “Still might happen, if granny there decides to grow fangs again.” Tenger thumbed toward the kitchen, earning a whack from Kablo’s staff.

  The gloves zipped over to Orevella’s wheelcheer to roll her to the table.

  “I heard that, mister rider.” She pursed her lips playfully.

  “No disrespect, ma’am. Just want to keep my arms free of bite marks is all. Heh.”

  Whack!

  “Manners!” Kablo frowned.

  “It’s alright, dear Kablo.” Orevella directed one of her gloves to pat his shoulder. “Do not take my change of heart as failure on your part. Sometimes it takes an outside perspective to see it true.”

  “But, Majesty. Our ideals.” Kablo’s face twitched.

  “Are sound.” She offered a strong nod to affirm it. “However, our practices cannot be so rigid. Alan Right has a surname suited to him. He has flown far, through danger and sacrifice, to see us, learned the ways of our people, and attempted to perform as a sign of respect. We cannot punish for that, even if my caretaker would have made soup of him.”

  Tenger laughed nervously and scratched his head. “The gryphons still there?” he asked, poking his head to see outside.

  “Oh, stop it, you.” Orevella smirked. “We are past executions, I think, and now must speak of matters bigger than ourselves.”

  “That’s right,” Alan said. “We contend with forces not seen since the wars of old—far before the battle of the nine realms.”

  “The rings on your tree are few and far between,” Orevella said. “What would you know of olden times?”

  “I know what others have told me, and what visions have allotted me, Majesty.” Alan bowed his head. “Jaeger of Hozzod allies with Sar’fidius and Kor on the far sides of the known realms—past the Crimson. They unite and build forces in the shadows the likes of which dwarf even yours. Unlike you, their notion is not to preserve but rather to conquer all realms until there are none left standing, with the ultimate goal to rule the great blind spot in a god’s eye—Ojin.”

  “Mm. A tune I have heard before, I’m afraid.” She took a sip of her tea. “While I revere your zealous nature and the respect you’ve earned amongst one of my own, the mission still stands—Hutten Fie is not one for politics. We are unconcerned with war and will thrive once the universe deems these archaic prompts no longer needed.”

  “Orevella… Jaeger’s hand will come. The gargoyle known as Hyndole.”

  “And we will deny him swiftly.”

  “Making your realm a prime threat and early target,” Alan assured.

  “A budding conqueror would have to be mad to sacrifice his forces to my unity battalions,” Orevella assured.

  “And a god would be mad to give this conqueror time to amass forces enough to topple their own.”

  “We will not fall, dear Merchant.”

  “Don’t you know why I’ve come? Why we would expend great effort to be seated here with you? I’ve seen forces that could overwhelm gods. The speed which Jaeger gains allies, we would be fools not to declare alliance with one another.”

  Orevella grumbled.

  “Majesty, you know firsthand how effective the tool of fear can be. He uses it to sweep the realms. You will be no exception this time.”

  “And tell me, Alan, where does your fear of this Red Pact stem?”

  Alan clenched his jaw. Revealing this might destroy his whole plight, but it was better to be true in the face of a god. “Through my experience… and clairvoyance.”

  “Clairvoyance? Bah! I am clairvoyant,” Kablo interrupted. “I can foretell six futures better than your one.”

  “Even if my one came from the frogs of Mujungo?”

  Orevella’s eyes widened. “I have heard whispers of their great demand over the years.”

  The last thing Alan expected was for the frogs to evoke any kind of reaction from a silo realm.

  “Yes…” She nodded to herself. “This is indeed concerning if they have shown you this. Even Kablo here has lost his tongue.”

  “It’s known around Token that the frogs frequent Alan,” Elkire said. “The mad Wizard, and also hand to Mujungo, speaks of it often. Prophesized as a Herald of Ojin, a god to save the universe.” He chuckled. “Of course, we must take a mad Wizard with a grain of salt, but still, we must indeed take him.”

  “Mmm.” Orevella took a long sip of her tea.

  “By Hyndole’s own admission, they seek to take over Ojin—to have full eyes and ears over the war realm, even in times of peace. New afterlife spawns will be automatically chained. The natural order of things would be upended forever. And we, of the Unlikely Guds, are here to stop it.” Alan balled his fists over the table.

  Kablo’s head glowed blue as Alan spoke. His eyes were closed in what the Fate Chasers saw as a show of rudeness.

  “What say you, dear Kablo, watcher of the fog?” Orevella asked.

  “I’ve been so angered by Alan’s disruption, I failed to see what encroached to the west of our Ojin Mountain…” He grimaced. “Ten thousand strong—battalions wearing differing banners, marching together.”

  “It already begins, Your Majesty.” Alan folded his arms. “Will you hear my offer?”

  The gloves moved to massage Orevella’s temples as she peered down at her blanket.

  “Majesty.” Kablo reached over the table. “The way of Hutten Fie has not been tested in centuries.”

  “Neither has an outsider ever risked it all to warn us.” Orevella lifted her head. “He is a realm owner, for patterns’ sake.”

  “Gifted by Madam Balooma of the Borai,” Alan stated, since truth had been working out for him so far.

  Orevella nodded. “It is settled, Alan. I will hear you.”

  The Fate Chasers all did their best to hold back smiles.

  WAR-TIME OFFER REINITIATED.

  If Orevella, goddess of the Hutten Fie realm, accepts your terms of alliance into “Unlikely Guds,” unique War Titles will be bestowed to your party.

  The pressure increased. Alan needed those Titles for his Chasers, as well as himself. He imagined a feat as rare as this one would earn them great power in a time of even greater need.

  “Orevella, it’s simple. Join Unlikely Guds. I am merely a broker of gods seeking to keep the universe in relative order. I don’t want to see anyone undeserving chained and will expect nothing of you but to stand when the time comes.”

  “Might be a little tough for me, Alan.” She chuckled, then winked. “But I may be able to manage one last walk on these wobbly legs.”

  Hope filled his lungs.

  “Tell me, who have you conspired with thus far?” Orevella blew on her hot tea.

  “We have Mujungo of Strangey Town and Gosfor of the Royal Horde—”

  “Gosfor! Why didn’t you say so? That round pile of goop deserves a great big hug that I haven’t been able to give him since we became gods together.”

  Alan and the Fate Chasers shared a glance. A stroke of luck to seal the deal, perhaps? “Yes, he was a great challenge to win over as well. And also, we must not forget our first attempt at alliance which blew up in our face. Junos of Hightower Brack betrayed his people and took a deal with Jaeger immediately after helping to fight him off.”

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  “A journey of great risk.” Orevella took a sip of tea.

  “Yeah, we’ve been through it, alright.” Tenger sighed. “Lost some good warriors. One near and dear to my heart.”

  “All of our hearts.” Elkire frowned.

  “As is the way of war.” Orevella patted Tenger’s hand, then peered up. “Alan. Your courage and desire to forge on moves me.”

  “Thank you, Orevella.”

  “You are a wonder to this world, yet you yourself are not free of darkness. I witnessed it in my knitting of you.” She cleared her throat. “We all have trials to overcome, it seems. And you might be right—sitting in the mountains alone will not work much longer. I accept your offer and will stand if the time comes.”

  WAR-TIME OFFER FULFILLED.

  If Orevella, goddess of the Hutten Fie realm, accepts your terms of alliance into “Unlikely Guds,” unique War Titles will be bestowed to your party.

  Reverence with the Hutten Fie increased to 100/100

  War Title achieved: War Merchant of Patterns*

  Alan immediately switched to his new Title and scanned through the prompts:

  Title: War Merchant of Patterns*

  Perk: Performing actions in succinct succession and/or repetitive nature—i.e., combinations crossing with minions and/or allied warriors—will unlock unity-level Saro not otherwise accessible.

  Note: Stray essence may form after a complex pattern-strike. If located, it would be wise to reach for them expediently, as they will act as a Saro amplifier for a short duration.

  Alan bowed. “Majesty… you may have just given the universe a fighting chance.”

  xxx

  Heads were held high on the way back to Token. Novel War Titles selected, new allies at beck and call—Alan had much to be proud of. As they soared through Ojin on a winding path back to Token, the Fate Chasers commended him on masterful negotiations. His display of skill was nothing to laugh at either. Fighting a mirror of oneself didn’t prove easy, and striking the final blow activated a darkness inside him he’d never thought possible.

  But that was all behind him now. Orevella’s loosened strings meant that even gods could change. It inspired Alan to be better. When he got home, things would be different. He’d treat Trish with the respect she’d given him, he’d apologize to Neesha again and again until she forgave him. And Lucius… leaving a man with that much knowledge to rot in an unvisited cell was not the wisest move. He should send someone to gather intel and wade through the lies… but who?

  Thoughts of prison activated fear of his other captives. Keeping prisoners of war almost begged Sar’fidius to invade. Surely it was inevitable the god would send a larger force to investigate the disappearance of a general. If it were Alan, he’d trace the patrol route assigned to her and carefully scout out for signs. Token protocols had been updated to defend against exactly that. Scouts reports were required before exiting the realm. The coast needed to be clear.

  On the third day homebound, atop a stone mountain in Ojin, Alan beckoned one of the Dreamcatcher Fate Chasers to reach out to Madam Mar. The window to Token evoked a huge sigh of relief. Her smiling face and backdrop of a budding town proved the realm was still thriving. Though Flint did peek his head in to say hurry home. So that’s what they did.

  Testing their new Titles proved euphoric. Those formations they’d been practicing came in handy when battling a Virath flying snake that wouldn’t get off their tail. Hurling Saro spells while holding V flight patterns, they switched to a rotating eight set, Elkire in front with spear at the ready. He launched it, creating a Saro explosion that caused all the gryphons to dip out of harm’s way and the Virath to fall from the Ojin sky in pieces.

  They all looked at each other in shock. Turned out, everyone had received pattern-based War Titles, and Alan’s hunch was right… they were powerful.

  Upon stepping into the home portal with good news, Alan and company were met with thunderous applause. Flint and Itsy sent oversized leaves and snow tumbling through the air to wash over them, and amongst it all, he saw Trish eyeing him wearing a genuine smile. It was all cheers, save for Neesha’s tentative gaze in his periphery. Alan couldn’t let that dampen the moment. This was a win for Token. A huge win.

  Once the warm welcome settled, Alan beckoned his main crew to his throne room. Standing over his table molded into a concave map of Ojin and the interconnected realms, he drew the path they took to Hutten Fie and all the types of fogs and armies he passed along the way.

  “By Bimby’s backside, Alan. Warriors hid between the magma streams of Umberfore?” Flint pointed. “What madness is this?”

  “It’s the last place anyone would suspect, and an easy way to foil an army caught off guard,” Alan said. “They made a mistake by throwing their spears our way. Thinking they could pluck out an entire roost of gryphons?”

  “Maybe they were trying to draw you in.” Neesha folded her arms.

  “Yeah, dummy.” Itsy tapped her own head. “Good thing you were in a rush, cause if you took the bait, this little Stoner is right. You would’ve been eaten alive.”

  “Mm,” Alan considered, gazing at the map intensely. “Next we head northwest, to a lead picked up by one of our former Brack citizens. Apparently, they know where the scouts of the Revellian Moon realm hide. If we can approach peacefully with our hands up, perhaps we can negotiate a gateway in.”

  “Aho! They love their mixed Saro wells. They possess endless sources of energy, from what I remember on my visits.” Flint raised his eyebrows. “I could’ve summoned a winter wonderland the likes of which the universe has never seen.”

  “And I would’ve accepted a great piggyback ride frolicking in the snow while nibbling on your ear,” Itsy said.

  “Aho!”

  “Will you two knock it off.” Alan slapped the table.

  “Arbiter of happiness over here.” Neesha thumbed to Alan.

  He huffed, and everyone chuckled. Madam Mar worked in the opposite corners, creating portal windows to connect with scouts out in the field. Neesha asked her to reach out to Gregorian, which broke Alan’s heart a bit. Thinking back to the moment they shared in Strangey Town, and the few near kisses they shared while navigating the stones in his throne room, sent jolts of weakening Saro into his belly. Just a short time ago, he was sure they belonged together. Now everything was backward.

  “Last order of business before we depart for the evening.” Alan put down his weapons and unfastened his void armor.

  Kaw!

  Everyone turned their heads to the door.

  “I’d like to induct Elkire into our meetings as chief scout and prime connection to Hutten Fie.”

  The tall man with exhaustingly perfect stature posed with his arms on his hips. “Good to be among you. The council of Token.”

  “Welcome, good friend. Make sure your spear does not bump its point on the doorway—”

  Sccrch!

  “Hm.” Flint winced.

  “Not to worry. We are the ones who constructed this abode. I will simply make it bigger.” Elkire puffed his chest, making Alan wonder if inviting him was the best idea.

  “Alright. Status update on our allies.” Alan clapped. “Flint.”

  “Mujungo has mobilized his units and called upon two realms closest to him. They are hesitant to join an alliance they know not of, but they have agreed to help Strangey Town for the time being.”

  “Good. How do you feel about trying to close that deal? Formally invite them to Unlikely Guds. Use your new clout as leverage.”

  “Aha! I am the furthest thing from a Merchant, Alan! The furthest! The last time I tried to rally a town, I nearly had you pelted with arrows.”

  “Nonsense,” Alan disagreed. “You’ve constructed walls the size of canyons and held the line with unparalleled mastery. The realms respect you, Flint, even if some think you mad.”

  “It’s true, dummy bumpkin.” Itsy lifted his chin and gave him butterfly kisses, causing Alan to shut his eyes for a prolonged moment.

  “Great. It’s settled then. Flint will embark to Mujungo’s allies and convince them to help save the universe,” Alan said, settling into his new role as delegator. He remembered the shop owner pushing him in similar fashion a lifetime ago. Sending him to house calls even though some of the characters were a bit shady. Got some good deals though, back then. All in all, it worked, even if there was some short-term resentment. He hoped Flint would see it the same way. “What about rumblings? Any notes from Strangey?”

  “None, good Alan. No reported follow-up attacks. The townspeople note it’s been quiet. Eerily so.” Flint held his hat.

  “Hm.” Alan looked over at Itsy. “Reports from the Royal Horde. How’s your brother acclimating to his new boss?”

  “He grunts and groans and sneers through the portals, but he manages.” Itsy twirled an oversized piece of grass in her mouth, leaving dirty footprints all over Alan’s floor. “Gosfor fears deceiving Hyndole when he inevitably returns, but he holds true to the Unlikely Guds.”

  “Excellent. Has he requested Nastaf back?” Alan paced.

  “No. He said to keep the Stalker as long as we need. So far, the jerk’s rescued nearly two thousand Brack refugees. We’re working on getting them converted to Token citizens, but many are still in shock from dealing with Junos.”

  “Sounds like progress to me. Any attacks?”

  “All’s quiet on the Royal Horde front, duh.”

  Alan furrowed his brow. “Wasn’t Hyndole’s contribution due?”

  Itsy grimaced. “Ah, butter-shit. That’s right. A few weeks ago he should’ve showed. Maybe the ugly gargoyle’s busy, ey?”

  Alan tightened his jaw. “Doubtful. I think it’s time to change course on the Royal Horde plan. Shut all portals to outsiders and assume he’s learned of the breach.”

  Itsy scratched her head. “Aye. Will do. It’s going to send Gosfor into a tizzy though.”

  “Better than mass casualties, Itsy,” Alan said. “Elkire. No bad news from Hutten Fie, right?”

  “Nope. No sign of those metal fangs, great Alan.”

  “Metal fangs. Golly Jupiter. I thought you said Orevella was a pleasant old lady?” Flint tilted his head.

  “When she wants to be.” Elkire guffawed. “All is well at Hutten Fie. Even Kablo sends a curt nod our way.”

  Alan felt good about everything except Hyndole’s missed collection. Where did he go wrong? How could he know of Alan’s interference in the realm? Either way, it just ramped up the clock in his mind. Tomorrow morning started his journey to Revellian Moon. Then he’d have the army and the sustenance to hold the Red Pact when the time came.

  “Alright, everyone. Thanks for holding down the fort. Sleep tight.”

  “Good to have you back, Herald of Ojin, god of the realms, savior of the universe!” Flint saluted.

  “Ey, don’t blow smoke up his ass, hunny buns.” Itsy smacked the Wizard’s behind—which made him hop extra high.

  “Trust me, I don’t want the smoke.” Alan sighed.

  As the others turned to leave, Neesha side-eyed Alan. It was a look of, “I missed you but I’m still upset,” which he’d take as a win for now.

  “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a big one.” Alan held onto the door. “Neesha, I’d like you to come along as Healer, if you’re up for it. Maybe clear the air a bit?”

  “Mmf,” she huffed on her way out.

  As Madam Mar summoned a tightly packed levitating patch of dirt, she beckoned everyone on to give them a lift off the mountain. They were gone in a jiff, leaving just the breeze and the night sky for Alan to behold.

  A peacefulness washed over him for the first time in a long while. Not having the Green serenity to replenish him in the night was starting to take its toll. Too much unsettled turmoil swirling in his abdomen. Too much worry.

  “We’ll win this war,” he spoke to the wind. “And find peace again.”

  A shadow whirled past him, turning up on his other side.

  “Talking to yourself?” Trish smirked, eyes forming from Black Saro before the rest of her face and body painted into view. “You used to do that back at the apartment.”

  “Hm. Second time I didn’t sense you.” Alan twitched at the idea. “What the hell is Nastaf teaching you?”

  “To be as quiet as a mouse.” Trish shimmied back and forth in taunting excitement. She was able to get one by Alan, again.

  “I must be tired,” Alan said, earning a slap to his shoulder.

  “I missed you. The whole realm did, actually,” Trish assured.

  “It’s a good feeling. One I never really felt on Earth.”

  Trish gasped. “Wow. Way to ruin the mood.”

  Alan tightened his lips, trying to recall Orevella’s loosening strings. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

  “And how dare you… When you passed… we all—” She turned away with tears in her eyes.

  Alan felt a smidge of remorse, but overall, he wasn’t in the mood for guilt after such a long day, so he turned to let himself back into his quarters. And to be honest, seeing her again reinvigorated all of the disdain he felt before his inevitable end.

  “Doesn’t erase the times I was alive,” he said.

  She grabbed his shoulder before he was fully inside and spun him into a kiss. Her lips felt soft and familiar, transporting him back to a world he’d nearly forgotten. The good parts. Memories that had faded upon Trish’s return barreled back tenfold, feeling as real as present day.

  He was disarmed for an instant.

  There was still something there. And when Trish took two steps forward to shut the door behind her, she broke from the kiss. “Care for some company? Like old times.”

  Alan thought of his new philosophy from Hutten Fie. “Not like old times, Trish.”

  “As friends, then. We can reminisce, can’t we? We have worlds to remember.”

  “I suppose, in the name of turning a new leaf… just this once.”