Cannon fire roared across the sky.

From below the treetops, Ildrex stood on corrupted soil as he watched the RWA’s ships descend upon the Crimson Tide. His fellow riftwalkers flooded out from the ships, just under a hundred, each an elite in fighting the forces beyond. They rushed into the fray as supporting fire from their engineers tore holes into the unending rains.

Ildrex had succeeded. He’d reported back, got promoted to a senior riftwalker, and sent an army of his brothers and sisters into the front lines.

And now he was here, hidden in the trees. Away from the fight.

He watched the Shissavi’s morale soar. And beside their cheers and shouts, he watched two sides of the battlefield erupt with power.

A jungle of redsteel thorns rose beneath saer Halcyn and snaked across the warzone with renewed energy. And on the other side, where the trees were melted and the blights were turned black with rot, a thunderhead of black smoke billowed out from the figure of the Blight Witch in the sky.

The battle’s momentum redoubled. The Crimson Tide’s monsters fell by the thousands.

And negative energy soared as death filled the air.

Ildrex Soothson closed his eyes and sat on the writhing, corrupted ground. He set down the things he needed around him. A bone, fresh from a life taken at night.Carvings littered every inch of its surface and pulsed with black light. He set it down over his lap as the grass around him began to writhe.

The blight was beginning to notice his presence, even with the wards in his cloak.

It mattered little.

Ildrex summoned a piece of blackened wood from his storage ring. It was still wet, dripping with his life’s energy. A piece of ashwood, thrice-charred, soaked in wrist’s blood. Ildrex set fire to it, and the flames flashed. They turned crimson as they touched his blood.

He placed the carved bone over the flames, watching it turn black. As soon as it did, the blight around him stopped. The tendrils rising from the grass retreated.

Fear. Even the Crimson Tide knew what it could not kill.

A presence fell over the trees and the cannonfire overhead turned quiet, distant, as if traveling through miles of water.

Ildrex closed his eyes and muttered three things.

“Charon, child of Renn, saved from a rift left open beneath the earth. Destri, my sister in arms, and her fear of Ilbithar’s endless dark. And Old Man Tanner, widower of fifty years, who used an axe to open his brother’s chest.”

The memory of a child’s joy, a grown man’s fear, and an old man’s deepest grudge.

The shadows deepened as Ildrex felt the memories he offered fade from his mind. The sky turned dark. Ildrex opened his eyes, and he watched the smoke rise from the burning bone, black as night. It seeped into the trees and the world shrunk until it was simply Ildrex, sitting in an empty void. He stared straight ahead.

“My name is Ildrex Soothson and I seek the whispers in the grave, the seer of the unseen, and the presence waiting in the dark. I seek the Listener of Ivory, the Final Interrogator, the Voice of Ash.”

Something in the abyss answered with a click, sharp and quick, like tongue against teeth. A titanic shape moved in the darkness.

“I seek Keravathe, the Archdemon of Secrets.”

A laugh like an insect’s chittering echoed through the abyss. It sounded like a million bones snapping all at once, beneath the sound of chattering teeth and knives scraping across stone. The shape in the dark drew close, and even in the infinite blackness of the spell, Ildrex felt the world darken under its shadow.

It descended from above, and Ildrex watched a skull the size of a small hill come into the light. It was long and alien, covered in spurs and jutting spines, all sharp angles and jagged ends. It stared down at him with four dark eye sockets and a grinning mouth full of needlepoint teeth. Pinprick points of white light shone inside each eye, and two gargantuan arms of bone landed beside the riftwalker, digging into the earth. Ildrex stared up at the demon, watching its long spine fade into the darkness.

Keravathe’s massive, clawed hand curled over Ildrex’s upper body, each fingertip inches away from his skin. The archdemon growled in amusement, its voice reminiscent of a rattlesnake’s rasp.

“A mortal calls my name and its Name, and so I have come. Ildrex Soothson. Riftwalker. We meet again.”

Ildrex glared up at the demon. ”I’ve done as you asked. Tell me where they are.”

“You accept me as your patron, and yet you show me your anger and disrespect. You are a dead man walking, riftwalker. Do not fake strength in front of your betters.”

“We both have something to offer, Keravathe. I know something you don’t.”

“A secret. And now you’re here to offer me what I seek.”

“A secret for a secret. That’s your trade, is it?”

Keravathe laughed again. The sound of its guttural echo made Ildrex feel like a thousand needles were digging into his bones, straight into the marrow. The archdemon’s skull distorted into a wider smile, the bone cracking and stretching.

“So you’ve met other immortals since your trip to my kind’s realm. What have you traded, hm? A talent? A memory?” Keravathe’s mouth opened, and a long, pale tongue dragged its way across the demon’s teeth. “Or perhaps something more precious. A Name? A ṣ̨͎̻͌̓͂͡oú̖̰̆l̨̲̥͗́͞?̙̗̩̅̈́̚"̪̑

Ildrex sneered at the demon, “A story for my life, and a secret for this meeting. Not every immortal makes demands as unreasonable as a demon’s trade.”

“And what is the name of this immortal, then? Their name is not within my library.”

“Will you take the information as my offering?”

“It interests me far more than anything else you’re capable of sharing. Yes.”

“Then the immortal I met was the Traveler,” Ildrex said. “Khelios.”

Keravathe froze. His domain went quiet. Ildrex didn’t know how, but the skull-faced archdemon had managed to pale further.

“You should not have spoken that name,” Keravathe snarled. “Do you know who—"

The sound of a footstep in the darkness cut him off. A distant echo, an eternity away, yet close enough to feel the sound of it vibrate against the earth. The reverberations reached them, and with it, a feeling like gravity pressed down over Ildrex’s shoulders. It pushed him down. Made it hard to breathe. Above him, he felt his patron tremble.

Keravathe growled, “He’s found us.”

Ildrex blinked, and when he opened his eyes, it was no longer just him and Keravathe. There was a person between them. One covered by a ravenfeather cloak, his face obscured in darkness, with a massive grin splitting his face.

The Traveler looked up at Keravathe, “Didn’t expect you to know me, Boney. Not when I don’t exist in this world. Your stigma is more powerful than I thought.” At his words, the archdemon snarled again, as if it were a hissing, cornered cat. Ildrex stood frozen as the two stared each other down.

“…Have you come to kill me, old one?”

Traveler laughed.

“Kill you? When my pal Drexxy needs you so much? I wouldn’t dream of it,” Traveler said. He smiled and spread his arms, “No, I’m here to ask for a favor.”

“Demons do not accept favors. We—”

“—Hush now,” Traveler said.

Keravathe shut his mouth. Ildrex looked at him, trembling, the archdemon’s jaw shaking. Traveler raised his hand and slowly, surely, lowered it.

Crack.

Keravathe’s skull cracked down the side. His arms creaked. In the darkness, his titanic body of bone and ash and embers groaned in protest. Then, slowly, Ildrex watched the demon’s resistance crumble as an invisible force smashed him into the ground. Boom!Ildrex saw the ripple in the air around his patron.

Weight.

Pure presence, amplified. It was like gravity.

Keravathe snarled through gritted teeth. Traveler walked up to his massive skull and stood, meeting the archdemon’s four, burning eyes. He patted the demon’s face with a hand and smiled.

“Good boy,” Traveler said. “Now. As I was saying, I want favor from you, Boney. You ain’t wearing a weave, so it should be no trouble, eh?”

“You shouldn’t be here, old one. This isn’t your time. Helping you could cost me everything.”

“And not helping me will cost you more than that. Understand?”

The archdemon released a low, guttural sound. And just as Ildrex thought the demon would stand up and fight the thing in front of them, Keravathe relented. Lowered his eyes.

“…What do you want, Khelios?”

At the sound of his name, Traveler’s smile disappeared. The visage under the hood turned dark, like an unending void with nothing inside.

“I want to exist again,” Traveler said. “And for that, I need you to hide my vessel from sight. At least until he’s strong enough to fend for himself.”

“Tell me his name.”

Traveler spoke. Keravathe paused, and that pause turned into a big, big smile. The archdemon leaned forward, his long tongue once again swiping across his teeth, “Now it makes sense,” Keravathe said. “My stigma knows now, why you ordered the Winter Court to take his existence away. It was to leave him open. Vulnerable enough for you to sink your teeth in.”

“You presume too much. What do you know of my plans?”

Keravathe rumbled with laughter; a low, growling laugh. “Enough to know you need me alive. You wish to protect this new host from divination. I am the only one capable of such.”

Traveler nodded.

“Consider it done. But you owe me a favor, yes?”

“A trade of favors is the least I can give you. Not even I can ignore the rules.”

Traveler turned around, leaving Keravathe to grin on the ground behind him. He faced Ildrex. Ildrex stared back. Even now, the weight was around him, pushing down from something far, far above. Ildrex knew that if he looked up, he would see it. What the Traveler trulylooked like. But he was afraid to look up.

He was afraid of what he would find if he did.

Traveler smiled at him, patted him on the shoulder, and stepped away. “Thanks for the help again, boss. If that bastard demon bullies you, just call my name, eh? I’ll help you out.”

Ildrex turned to his self-proclaimed friend, “Where are you going now, Traveler?”

“Just one more stop. I got another monster I need to piss off.”

Elanah sat in her laboratory, trembling.

She held a teacup in her hand, her fingers shaking as she brought it up to her mouth. She took a slow, painful sip, feeling the brew pour down her throat in an attempt to soothe her burning stomach. There was pain in all of her organs. A piercing, clawing itch, like an insect’s legs, sharpened to a point, crawling and scratching at her vitals.

The blackened veins on her skin were like crags on a cliff face. Dark and insidious, they pulsated as the toxins she ingested made their way through her system.

Titan Potion. Truesight. Steelskin Elixir. Mage’s Drought.

Dozens of different potions, each one strengthening her. Making her fit for battle. She’d fought on the front lines for weeks now, ever since Ashran left. It was good for her. It kept her mind on the present, away from other, maddening thoughts. But there was only so much a body could take, even with her conditioning. Elanah had fought as she did years ago.

After years of retirement, her body didn’t take to it nearly as well as she thought it would. She had taken her resistances into account. She’d considered potion conflicts, vessel scorch, and temporary muscle damage with every potion she drank.

But Elanah had forgotten her age, and it had almost taken her life.

She took another sip from the tea in her cup. It was mixed with soothing agents, purging the poisons and elixirs from her system, slowly curing her of the prolonged overdose that had almost destroyed her organs. She looked down at the paper in front of her, full of calculations for her current capacity. It was less than half of before. Less than half of her staying power in her prime.

Elanah wrote on the paper, altering the potions she set herself to use. She lowered the toxicity levels. Enough that it would hurt her ability to stay in the battles for long, but allow her more consistency. She had to. After all, the blight was losing.They were winning now, and though it would take months to fully recover the lands that had been taken over, the resistance was falling by the day.

That was only possible thanks to her, saer Halcyn, and the RWA.

If either of them vanished for long, the situation in the front lines would sour. Shissavi would die. People with families, awaiting news of their return from the front lines.

People like her.

Elanah pursed her lips, glancing at the recording crystal at her side. She’d been staring at it for two weeks now, every time she returned to her laboratory to rest. Most of the Shissavi had sent their families messages. Couriers had carried each recording crystal across the Heartlands and down to Felzan’s territory. All except hers.

She reached for the crystal and put it in front of her.

Elanah turned it on.

The runes on the surface of the box-shaped device lit up and streams of light flickered towards her. Recording, creating and storing illusions to match her movements and her voice. She let it run for ten seconds. Thirty.

Silence.

She didn’t know what to say.

Elanah turned it off. She turned it on again, then stared some more. Off. On. Every time, the words failed to come to her. She swiped her fingers across the runes and deleted each recording, her lips pursed and her heart in pain. How would she say it? How could she tell Rugsh and Kerban that she would be gone for longer than she thought?

She’d told them her work would take no more than a month. That was two months ago.

And now, she knew she couldn’t leave. They needed her here. And the work in front of her wouldn’t be a matter of weeks, but several more months. It was the same as always. The same as before.

Ashran was right.

Elanah covered her face with her hands and breathed. She was weary. Tired. And so she sat in silence, feeling the elixirs ravage her body as she worried about what to tell her family. Both the one she had, and the one she’d lost. Her Nameless son. Elanah closed her eyes and listened to the minutes pass in silence.

There was no way to make up for how she’d failed him. How she’d failed them,over the course of her life and her unending ambition to reach the peak of her craft. She couldn’t be there for them in person.

But she wouldn’t be the same as before. There were still things she could do.

Elanah reached for the crystal and turned it on. She stared into it, as if she could see the other side, as if she were looking at Ashran. This first message would be for him. She gave it her best smile. Forced. Weak and sad and apologetic all. But she spoke anyway.

“Happy sixteenth birthday, son. I’m sorry I’m not there. I hope you’re taking care of your father well while I’m devising a cure. I’ve been hired by the Summerskies to…”

And on. She finished the recording. Started another one.

She had another twenty-two years’ worth of words to say.