Valens didn’t know how he patched the end of the street with Gravitating Earth, raising a giant block of soil to block the rush of the endless horde. He adorned it with spikes to make it difficult for Shifters to climb before turning back to the scene.

Damp air burnt a painful path down his lungs. His fingers tingled. His chest heaved. But none of them was enough to silence the nostalgia that settled around his mind as he gazed at the back of that solitary figure.

There were some differences. He didn’t have his dark plates, for one. And he looked, Valens rather thought, unnaturally handsome in whoever’s skin he’d wrapped around his skeletal frame. There was even a smile on those plump, rosy lips. A haughty smile, just like how he imagined a gesture like that would look on the face of that stubborn undead.

“How?” Valens managed to mutter just then. “What—”

“Reckon we’ve already gone through this before, eh?” Nomad snickered. “You asking questions, me trying to be gentle about it. We’ve done it in that Rift, haven’t we? I’d say we focus on the trouble at hand. I need you to stay close to me while I’ll deal with this fool.”

“Stay close?”

“Uh,” Nomad grunted. “Close as you can be. This ain’t going to be the last of ‘em. Thousands are waiting for us in the Cathedral.”

“Nomad, is that you?” Celme asked from the other side of the street, squinting at him with one hand over her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Nomad scoffed at her, then turned slowly to Valens. “Bloody gods, I didn’t miss her face. How are you keeping up with this crazy woman?”

“I don’t,” Valens said. “She just appeared out of nowhere.”

“Got another one in her back, too,” Nomad said. “Looking beautiful, that one, though I seem to sense something dark in her. Tell me, is this the famous Wailborn I’ve heard about in the Underworld? There has been quite the talk about her in the Ninth Legion.”

“Oh, is there?” Valens said. “Is that what you do when you’re not out stealing shards from your Liches and making a run for it? Speaking about the latest matters of Haven’s Reach? I have to say, I didn’t appreciate it when Celme told me I’ll have a giant horde coming after me on the account that I’m somewhat of an anti-undead soon. You don’t happen to know anything related to that, do you?”

“It’s complicated,” Nomad averted his gaze.

“I’m sure it is.”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” Nomad said, raising the sword. “Once I’m done with this lost brother of mine, that is. Just hold that wall for me. This bastard’s strong.”

Valens reached through his sound vision and saw the horde battering the giant wall with everything they had. Already, some cracks formed along its surface, which Valens patched with what little mana he had.

Then he watched as Nomad launched himself forward with earth cracking underneath his steps. He went at the Undead like a boulder—unrelenting, sweeping, hacking, ripping—sending a flurry of attacks that pushed the warrior stumbling back in confusion.

A sword found purchase just beneath his Heartstone, the tip scraping against the bones as it bit in. Nomad looked down at it, and the Undead Soldier did the same, before that sword began carving a noisy path up to the Heartstone. The warrior tried to retaliate, grunting as it brought its sword downward with haste, but Nomad skirted around it and dragged his own sword with the momentum.

The upper half of the Undead Soldier plopped down with a thump, Nomad moving in and stabbing his Heartstone for good measure. Drops of sweat appeared over his forehead, which he wiped with the back of his fair hand.

He’s… too handsome. I don’t think I can get used to this.

“And so they celebrated the coming of the savior.” Nomad stabbed the sword down into the ground, leaning over its handle with one arm raised in the air. He looked mightily proud of himself, of him coming at the right time and saving the day. “While the Berserker stood, face twisted, eyes burning with envy. She would think later that she could’ve done it herself, but that wouldn’t, of course, prove solace to the sheer inadequacy that took hold of her heart.”

“Not sure I missed you,” Celme said as she dragged Selin through the crumbled pieces of the houses, closer to Nomad and Valens. “And this new look… Why do you look like one of those nobles?”

“They didn’t have anything else in the castle,” Nomad said, shrugging. “Could be that, or could be that Bone Collector thought he’s doing me a favor dressing me up like a small-time Lord of a bunch of towns. Doesn’t matter now, though, does it? I don’t see anyone in Belgrave that would say a damn about my looks.”

Valens felt through the Resonance the change Nomad had gone through in the time they were separated. He couldn’t see his class due to the ring he wore on his hand, but by the bone density underneath that skin, he had become something of a monster in the depths. A true monster, and a traitor who rebelled against the very order he served.

“Why did you come here?” he asked, peering about himself. The mindless horde stirred beyond the broken backs of the buildings like a tide sweeping the city. They would be here soon, but they had time for a few questions, at least. “Why did you steal the Riftshards, and how did the Ninth Legion learn the Lifestone I planted in your heart?”

“That’s…” Nomad’s face creased as he faced him. “It was my mistake. Thought I could use some help with this whole deal, which is why I tried to reason with Hook. Told him he could be free if he joined me. He refused.”

“That, I can see,” Valens said.

“Which is why I killed him,” Nomad said, voice heavy. “He wasn’t the only one I killed. During my escape through the Legion’s City, I killed dozens of my brothers in cold blood, butchered them senseless in their sleep, caught them like fish in a net, and ripped their stones apart.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Why?” Celme’s voice quivered. “Why—”

“Oh, you’re one to speak!” Nomad turned and jabbed a finger at her while looking at Valens. “Do you know what is happening here, Val? Do you know what dark business is going round inside the Guild of our dear Berserker? They are the ones behind all of this. They are the—”

“I thought it was the Evercrest,” Valens said, scowling. “She is trying to open the Gate under the Golden Cathedral to bring chaos to Melton. It’s her Trial. Not sure what this has anything to do with Duality Guild.”

“You know that wretched woman?” Nomad paused, eyeing him. “How? With all the mist you should’ve been— Wait. Wait a damn second. How could you tell it’s her Trial?”

Valens felt the gazes of everyone settle heavy on his face with different expressions. Nomad looked doubtful, shocked even, while Celme lowered her chin in thought. Selin, instead, seemed genuinely concerned for him.

You’re too thoughtful, Selin. I’m not sure I deserve that.

“I know her because my Trial wants me to stop whatever she’s doing to these people,” Valens said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know her because that’s what the Weeping Horror told me. That he was deceived by the Evercrest Family. I looked him in the eye when I severed his soul from the Haven’s Reach, and sent him back to the Land of the Fated. I know her because this matter is closely related to me. Or rather, who I am.”

They fell silent. An expected response, considering it was the first time Valens disclosed any of these to others. It felt as though a giant boulder was lifted from his heart and left behind a relieving pressure that sent shivers down his arms.

It’s high time we spilled our secrets.

“When the Duality Guild told me about what you did in the Underworld, I thought you were in this,” Valens followed, not letting the two of them speak as he gazed at Nomad. “I thought you were trying to help Evercrest open the gate of the Core Dungeon. It can only be opened from the Underworld, I’ve been told, and with enough Void Riftshards you could’ve done it without alerting anyone in this city.”

He waved a hand around him, to the broken buildings and the smoke of fires rising from the distance, heard the muffled cries of people suffering in his mind, and witnessed the chaotic rhythm of frequencies about him.

“But I suppose there have been a few complications,” he said in the end. “The Evercrest woman was forced to rely on alternatives once she lost the Riftshards, am I right?”

“Except for a tiny detail,” Nomad said, frowning out into Celme with his hand clasping the sword tightly. “I’ll give you a chance. Explain yourself now, and then I might spare you out of compassion.”

“I…” Celme swallowed, stepping back under their gaze. She looked so brittle, almost like a young woman just out to experience the world and saw in the endless reaches the grim truth that showed her nothing was simple at all. “I didn’t know any of it.”

“Lies!” Nomad stepped over to her while raising his sword, its tip inching slowly closer to her neck. “You were in this with that crooked King and damned Master of yours. You were aware of it from the start, yet you did nothing!”

“What is happening here?” Valens asked, holding a hand out to them. “Can we not do… this? Celme, speak if you know something. I don’t like this.”

“I’ve only heard about it yesterday when the Lightmaster sent an order to the Guild,” Celme said grimly. “We were supposed to go to the Broken Lands today for our Trials, but in the middle of the night, an order from the Lightmaster arrived, demanding for us to move in haste. It felt wrong, so I tried to ask Sarek about the matter.”

“Sarek?” Nomad questioned.

“The lawyer,” Valens said. “An interesting guy. Supposed to be some cousin of the King.”

“At first, he didn’t say anything. Told me that certain complications had happened, but it’s nothing too important. I didn’t believe him, so I pressed him for answers. Told him I wouldn’t go with them if he couldn’t tell me what the hell was going on with the Lightmaster. That’s when he explained to me.”

“Explained to you what?” Valens asked.

“The Reckoning,” Celme said, chin dipped low.

“What the fuck is that? Why not call it The Culling, eh?” Nomad asked, turning to Valens with a mocking smile. “These bastards want to sacrifice a whole city to make a point. To show Haven’s Reach that the enemy is real and the doom is fast approaching. This has happened before.”

“It’s not that simple,” Celme said with a weary sigh. “The Lightmaster himself received a revelation from Lord Zodros after the Necromancer’s Rift. The Lord told him that the Ancients are stirring from their eternal slumber, and the Era of Ancients is about to dawn upon mankind. Haven’s Reach isn’t ready to face this, so a price must be paid to remind the people of their past.”

“A whole city?” Valens couldn’t believe the absolute nonsense he was hearing. “They want thousands killed to send a message to the world? And they’re doing it by making a pact with the descendant of one of those Ancients? How does that make sense?”

“It doesn’t,” Nomad said. “But that’s about the truth for all the Divine Orders. Never been much for making sense, those people. They only deal in results, and this one’s already poked the other kingdoms awake. Even the Broken Lands are stirring as the people slowly remember the myths of the past.”

“Myths of the past…” Valens tasted the words on his tongue, and they were bitter.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Nomad gazed at him. “I had my doubts when we first met, but I don’t anymore. Even now, standing beside you is enough to silence the voices. Even now, I can feel the lingering touch of the Tainted Father disintegrating by the sheer presence of your soul. You remind me of one of my brothers.”

“Wait,” Celme said, looking puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“Him,” Nomad said, nodding at Valens. “A Healer in Melton, but he’s not just a Healer, is he? A Mage and a Hexmender both. Master of all elements, of spirit and mind, of void and its endless depths. Looks to me your Lord has only given your Guild half the truth, Berserker. The Ancients have already awoken from their slumbers. You’re looking at one right now.”

The ground underneath their feet began trembling. The wall that blocked the horde came off in broken pits that scattered across the ground. The buildings around them fell in clouds of dust and gravel, sending tremors across the city. The sky was alive with golden and crimson lights, and there beyond parted clouds, the Eye of the Venerable Fates was bleeding poison all around the city.

Hordes of creatures growled and hissed as they closed in on them. Valens felt their mindless fury in his mind, brimming under the lull that governed them. It was eerily similar to how an undead who was under the control of the Everfog was reflected in the Resonance—senseless beasts who felt no fear and no pain. Nothing at all but a greedy need for murder.

Then came the fog. Thick fog fluttering off toward the Golden Cathedral, carrying the will of an ethereal being. Valens couldn’t tear his eyes off those churning waves even as Celme demanded answers from him.

“We have to move,” he said, fingers clenched tight around his coat. “We must make haste to the Cathedral. She is going there. I can feel her from here.”

“But you—”

“I said we have to move.” Valens moved over to Selin and checked her with a Lifeward. She was in good condition—good as anyone could be in this city. He was trying to find a solution since the time he laid his eyes upon her here, but there wasn’t any. Little else was left in the city that would be safe enough to trust her. Little else besides his side, which left him no choice but to take her with him.

“I’ll open the path,” Nomad nodded. “You should try to rest a bit on the way. You will need every speck of your mana when we’re there.”

Valens nodded silently as they began marching toward the Golden Cathedral, side by side with an uneasy air lingering between them. There would come a time, he told himself, a time for everything, but it wasn’t now.

The sky was weeping.