Hell. That was the best way to describe the realm that had formed on the other side of Death’s Gate. It was a twisting vortex of confusing landscapes. The concept of gravity had been lost on the place, souls wandered without being checked, and the guards were anything but helpful. Fenian had made many mistakes in his life, but this was the worst. Sagging to one side, he pressed his hand into his ribs and groaned.

“Perhaps we’ll look before we leap next time,” he groaned, falling to a seated position against a wall of smooth stone. “I’ll bring better backup while I’m at it.”

Many of the worlds in the sector had been stripped of their privileged time dilation. Fenian felt his stomach lurch, the telltale sign that this place was under a serious version of the slowing effect. As he recovered from his most recent wound, he considered how many days had passed. Without a sun overhead, he could only guess. But it had been a few months since he had arrived, and he was not in the darkest depths where he hoped to find his prize.

The constant swirl of energy around him had been a nourishing life force. Using the techniques taught to him by Theo and Tresk, he was able to maintain his physical form and fight most of the deteriorating effects of the gait itself. But that wasn’t the only silver lining. His swords had changed, accepting that very same energy into their metal and adapting it. Since this wasn’t the smash-and-grab he had anticipated, instead appearing more like a marathon by the day, that fact was vital.

“Oh, look!” Fenian said, forcing joy into his voice. “Another wave of chimeric guards. Just my luck.”

Standing to his feet, Fenian rolled his shoulders. He should’ve figured that Kuzan would employ the same type of creature to defend the gate as he had used to assail Iardein. Perhaps this wasn’t a bad thing. After all, he was getting quite good at fighting these things. And each evaporated with a puff of celestial energy that was downright delicious.

The others had their stay in time-dilated dimensions. But their training was soft. A smile crossed Fenian’s face as loosened up for the fight.

“Let’s see what happens when one is reborn in the blood of the old world.”

***

The meeting room in Khahak had a dour mood that Theo just couldn’t shake. Khahar had called a meeting of the Throne Holders to discuss something Theo had concerns with. Since they no longer had the throne responsible for the defense of the mortal realm, that made things complicated. Instead, it was only Theo, Tresk, and Khahar attending the meeting. And none seemed eager to broach any topic of importance.

Theo eventually released a heavy sigh, sitting forward in his chair. “Look. We’re going to need help down on Iaredin.”

“I’ve sorted that, to an extent,” Khahar said. “Tresk has the most authority there right now, but I’ve seeded an individual who will help fill Fenian’s duties.”

Knitting his brows, Theo sat back and regarded his old friend. “That’s convenient.”

Khahar simply shrugged. “Think what you will, Theo. I’m ready to do my job up here. We don’t know if Leon’s plan will work, so we have to be prepared.”

“Prepared for when his planet burns, right?” Tresk asked. “Then we just gotta worry about a bunch of space psychos rushing our planets and taking our things!”

Khahar waved a hand through the air. “The gong project worked well, didn’t it? Perhaps we can take other measures to ensure the safety of the sector.”

“Yeah, let’s leave thumbtacks by the window,” Tresk said, clapping like an idiot. “Or, we can sit on our butts and do nothing! Just like you!”

“I work behind the scenes,” Khahar said. “My responsibility is the management of the Middle and Heavenly Realms.”

Theo shook his head. Khahar had been holding something back for a long time, and it was hard not to wonder what that might be. As the Dreamwalker, the alchemist’s job was to help the Arbiter. Instead, he had been doing everything for both thrones. Although the man he knew as Yuri was sneaky, he was someone who got things done. Even as Khahar, he went out of his way to put into place insane plans that spanned thousands of years.

So why had Khahar not acted in any way? Theo sent his aura out over the planet, gaining a confused look from the man. For now, he ignored it. There were the energies he expected to find, but something else. Theo’s first impression was that it felt like a familiar raft being dragged down by something. Like the void islands that had used the Shards as bootleg World Anchor to hold the place together. He probed deeper, finding another familiar form of energy.

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Khahar’s face was already painted plainly as someone who had been found out. He could only offer a shrug.

“Uh-oh,” Tresk said. “Someone is about to get a stern yet gentle talk from Theo.”

Releasing a sigh, Theo looked up at Khahar. “Did you want me to explain it, or you?”

“I have made a mistake,” Khahar admitted. “I can’t fix it.”

“So, you’re just gonna sit here on a bomb?” Tresk asked.

“A bomb?” Khahar asked, his brows peaking. “I just can’t leave, I didn’t think the world would blow.”

“Tresk has a bad habit of peeking at my theories before I’ve formed them properly,” Theo said. “There’s a lot of things messed up with your planet. And I’m not sure we can disentangle you from it without killing you, the planet, or your throne.”

“You could’ve checked earlier,” Khahar said, folding his arms.

Theo thought about that. He hadn’t sensed it before. The spark of energy resting in the core of the planet that gave it away felt weird, but not altogether unwarranted for a sentient planet. But now it had a wavering pattern to it that revealed the tenuous connections. The things that linked the concepts of Khaha r as the Arbiter, him as an ascendant, the planet, and the throne were tangled. The alchemist wasn’t certain the knots could be untied.

“I believe it got worse after I tried a few things,” Khahar said.

“Well, stop trying stuff,” Theo said with a sigh. “Guess we’re just going to have to do this next bit on our own, Tresk. You up for it?”

“Yeah, duh. Easy peasy.”

If they couldn’t rely on Khahar for any of the proceeding events, that made things tricky. Theo wasn’t sure how it would impact their ability to do their jobs, but there was simply no choice. Fenian being missing was more impactful than the Arbiter not being able to perform his duties.

“We need to find Fenian,” Theo said.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Khahar said. He cleared his throat, turning to the window. “Now, down to business. I can’t help directly, but I can still send people throughout the Middle Realms. Let’s talk about defending those, including Leon’s new planet…”

Theo split his attention between the speech and his own thoughts. He was certain that between him, Tresk, Alex, and maybe Pogo, they could accomplish enough to make a difference. If you thought about it, the role of the Throne Holders was to ensure the order of the system. They weren’t exactly defenders. If somebody came from a faraway place in the universe and attacked an area, it wasn’t their job to defend. Instead, it was their job to set things that were wrong right. But how far did that power go?

Whenever Theo had seen somebody use their throne-related cores, they had done so in response to something that was devastating to the system. It had to be a calamity for them to intervene. The one example of when it wasn’t a world-ending event was somebody with an older system refusing to adapt to the new one. Yet the cores didn’t respond when the Shards weren’t where they were supposed to be. He took away from this moment of self-reflection that he couldn’t rely on the cores to help do his job. Sometimes it was more about getting it done, rather than drawing on that power.

“Wherever Fenian is, I hope he’s finding what he’s looking for,” Theo said. “Maybe we should check all the brothels of the land.”

“Oh! Good idea,” Tresk said, jumping up and down with excitement.

“She shouldn’t be so eager for something so crude,” Khahar grumbled. “As I was saying…”

***

How many years had it been? Fenian counted on his fingers, trying to remember exactly how long he had spent in the strange realm. Death’s Gate was nothing like he had expected. Eventually, he snapped his fingers, withdrawing a small bit of wood from his inventory and counting the notches. His face fell when he finally reached the end of his markers. It had been 50 years since he arrived, and he was still far from his goal. It was difficult when there were billions of souls trapped within Death’s gate.

The souls came from a hilarious variety of origins, from people who were native to the place where he was born to Earthlings and even those from places farther away that had some implications. He wasn’t entirely eager to face it right now, but that meant that when death was active, he had collected souls from other parts of the universe.

“Leon,” Fenian said, looking at the endless swirl above him. “You truly are the worst.”

Pulling in a breath of pure celestial energy, Fenian empowered his legs. He crouched on the spot and jumped forward, covering a distance that was hard to describe on the mortal plane and impossible to understand within the gate. He covered spans that would make the Bridge of Shadows blush and eventually found another of the many crevasses he had explored before. If there was one thing this world had, it was deep pits where the souls of undesirables were sent.

The dimensional space, like the road outside of it, was mostly straight but also somehow curved in on itself in the shape of a spiral. At first, Fenian had expected he was traveling in a loop, but after leaving enough clues behind for him to find on his next go-around, he realized that was not true. Instead, it was an endless spiraling road filled with angry spirits and even angrier chimeras.

With a single stroke of his sword, Fenian defeated one of the creatures, roughly the size of a mountain range. His blade glimmered with prismatic energy, resonating with the frequency of this place in such harmony it was hard to imagine. The feeling of the mortal plane was often warm, but this one was restless and made him want to push forward, even when sleep was required, especially when he was tired.

Fenian paused after a few more jumps, tilting his head to one side. He took in the sight ahead of him. “If you have to store important souls, I guess that’s the place to do it.”

Looming in the distance was something Fenian could only describe as an evil castle. It had peaking towers with a wall outside made of black obsidian. Even at a distance, Fenian could see signs of activity within. Lights glowed from each floor, casting beams of multicolored light into the fog of Death’s Gate.

“Not to worry, my darling,” Fenian said, preparing for the next jump. “I always make good on my promises. No matter how impossible they are.”