The shape of the Lataxinan council chambers was not as adversarial as what Kaldalis had seen in Baimer. Instead of two separate tables physically arrayed against each other, there was a large circular table.

Kaldalis was seated not in opposition to the Lataxinan council, but beside them at the same table.

The council itself was composed of eight Lataxinans. Kaldalis wasn’t familiar enough with them as a people to be able to tell the men from the women, but it seemed a diverse group in what categories he could recognize. Some were muscular while others were thin. A handful had callouses visible on their webbed paws from manual labor, while others were dressed in much finer clothes to indicate wealth. Some of them were older, with streaks of gray in their fur and visible balding patches, while others were young, with their dark brown fur thick and oily all over.

Kaldalis hoped that his growing sense of optimism wasn’t misplaced.

“You’re early,” one of the older Lataxinans said with a wry smirk. “On behalf of the council, I would like to extend my apologies for our unprofessionalism at this stage. We believed we had months before meeting any of you in person, and so our preparations for this meeting are lacking.”

“I’m sure you know that won’t be a problem,” Kaldalis said tentatively, hoping that speaking up wouldn’t offend them. “I’m just happy to be here.”

“And we’re happy to have you,” another Lataxinan said. They pressed their calloused fingertips together in a gesture Kaldalis took to be respectful. They looked around the table briefly, before adding: “though I hope I am not overstepping when I say that you’ve set things in motion much sooner than we would have liked.”

“No, Zrama,” the first Lataxinan said, their smirk turning to a grimace. “Honesty will never be ‘overstepping’ among this council, and I thank you for it. But we will arrive at that point in due time. Our guest must be given the whole picture before the details of it will have meaning.”

Kaldalis realized that there was not going to be some grand and fancy introduction. This council was getting right to business. He respected it, even if it meant that he was going to have to pick up on things like names and occupations from context.

“Long ago,” the elder Lataxinan began, “our greatest scholars sensed a disturbance among the Paths. Our investigations revealed someone drilling through the Paths Between Paths with some unknown technique. It was driven not by will or wit, but by cold and unfeeling mechanisms. We called it the Great Shovel, and - in time - made contact with the men wielding it.”

Kaldalis didn’t know anything about the Paths, or the Lataxinan techniques, but he recognized that those details weren’t important. What he needed was the big picture.

“Contacting them was our mistake,” one of the other Lataxinans grumbled.

That comment sent a bunch of groans and complaints around the table. Through the crosstalk, Kaldalis gathered that it was a very contentious opinion.

“Facts now,” the elder Lataxinan called, raising his voice to be heard. “Facts and facts alone! We can discuss philosophy if time allows, but for now, we are a people of facts.” The furry elder gestured at the one who had grumbled. “Jurah, if you wish to take the floor, you can continue.”

“Once we made contact with the operators of the Great Shovel, their efforts became more directed,” the younger speaker began. They grimaced, apparently struggling to keep their opinion out of it. “Instead of thrashing about wildly, they were seeking us out specifically. They followed our voices and breached our reality. They reached us faster than we could devise any defense or offense against them.”

Kaldalis understood the controversy. Some of these Lataxinans might have believed it was wrong to reach out, since, in hindsight, it had guided Monsoon right to them. But they could never have known the consequences before trying, so the others would argue that they had done what had seemed right with the information they had.

Unfortunately there was no right answer, and so he was glad that the leader had cut off discussion, or they might have devolved into an endless and pointless argument from there.

“We had begun work on a solution,” the younger Lataxinan continued, “but we did not have time to complete it. We needed decades, when we had but a few months.”

“I read about this part of your story,” Kaldalis cut in. “Your leader Kran came up with an alternative. A stall tactic. This place.”

“Yes,” the elderly Lataxinan said with a grin that showed off his pointed teeth. “I did.”

Kaldalis felt his eyebrows shoot up. “You?”

The old Lataxinan laughed. “Is that so surprising?”

“I guess not,” Kaldalis said, scratching his chin. “The Calamity was centuries ago, but I suppose time must pass differently here in the Paths Between Paths.”

“Oh no,” the old Lataxinan let out another bark of laughter. “Time runs the same. Life expectancy for a Lataxinan is on the order of fifteen hundred years. Certainly I was a young man when I guided us here, and I am an old man now, but I held out hope that I might feel the wind of our homeland with my own whiskers before my time was up.”

Kaldalis had to admit, that shouldn’t have surprised him, either. They were a scholarly race, with mastery over weird magical abilities. It shouldn’t have been unexpected that they might have extremely long lifespans in which to study.

“I’m not sure why you would be surprised, anyway,” another Lataxinan added. “Vathon regularly live to see eight hundred. And your friend Heluna will almost certainly outlive even the youngest of us on the council. Unless your specific breed is different on your native Path.”

Kaldalis felt his eyes bug out a little at that. He supposed he wasn’t in a human body right now, but what would his life expectancy be if he did somehow stay in this world? And Heluna… If she would outlive people who could survive the better part of their second millenia…

“This isn’t the topic at hand,” Kran interrupted before Kaldalis could get too lost in that. “Ultimately, we didn’t know the timeline when I brought our vessel here. And we could not allow our emotions to get in the way of our survival. It was necessary for the world to be safe for our return, and so we can only be brought back from the outside.”

“And that’s what you need me for,” Kaldalis said.

Around the table, the group of fuzzy otter-people nodded their assent.

“We can’t leave this place,” one of the younger Lataxinans said. “But you can. Once you return to the void outside of this vessel, Kaia’s Flicker will complete, sending you back to our world.”

“There is a tablet in one of our ruins,” another added. “It will teach you a forbidden technique. Azor’s Binding. You must find that Technique, learn it, and return to us here.”

“As a point of interest,” one of the younger Lataxinans cut in, barely suppressing a giggle. “The use of Nyxlas’s Augment might be a safer way to extend the duration of Kaia’s Flicker. In case you wish to use it on your return instead of letting a friend beat you nearly to death.”

There was a slight chuckle around the room at that, and Kaldalis felt himself flush with embarrassment.

Of course the Augment would work on Lataxinan techniques.

That had likely been its initial purpose.

“Once you return with Azor’s Binding,” Kran said, giving a stern look to the others to quiet their snickering. “You can bring this vessel back home. And from there, we can sever the connection between realms, banish the Infernal Horde, and unmake the system to return our world to its natural state.”

“So where is Azor’s Binding?” Kaldalis asked.

“That will be your first challenge,” Kran admitted with a wry tone. “It was kept in the city of Dymythrae. Where your adversary, the Contender, has stationed a significant force to bar entry.”

Kaldalis grimaced. “Of course,” he grumbled. Dymythrae was the name of the raid near Kayore, where he, Balrim, and Myrin had run into the better part of an army camped on the front step.

“The second challenge will be the forces within,” Kran continued. “This is no mere dungeon, but-”

“Yes,” Kaldalis interrupted. “It’s a raid. Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of experience with raids. My friends and I can handle anything it throws at us.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Kran said with a smile. “I only wish to be sure. Because the third challenge is likely the most daunting: time.”

There was a sudden quiet stillness that passed over all the Lataxinans at the mention of it. Whatever timeline was about to be presented, it was deadly serious.

“Now that you’ve come here,” Kran said somberly, “our time is limited. This is why we wish you might not have been so early. If you had gained entry to Dymytrae and learned the forbidden technique already, this would be over within the hour. Now, we must race the clock. The Infernal Horde is coming for us. If they breach our dome, we will all be dead before we can fight back.”

“We have six days before they arrive,” one of the others said. “The Dome will hold for maybe a few hours. A day at the most.”

Kaldalis had many questions.

Too many.

The only one that actually found its way to his mouth was: “how?”

“When you arrived, your signal will have shown our location. Even if it is not active now, they know where you will have vanished,” Kran said, folding his hands on the table. “Jordan Carver and Aaron Stevenson will use the Great Shovel to get to us. And when it reaches us, the Horde will follow.”

“I could get my friends here,” Kaldalis said. “We could fight. Maybe not hold forever, but we could buy you some time.”

“Not against what they will bring,” Kran said. “There are things you don’t know about the Infernal Horde. Knowledge that, I fear, will be all too important in the coming days.”