“Hmmmm. That’s not a half-bad idea,” Baelin said. “It should also increase trust between us and them…though, I doubt they would be likely to believe us by our word alone.”

“I know I wouldn’t,” Carey said, looking more shaken as the realisation that mortals could control dungeon cores played in her mind. “I never would have believed it.”

“Which is why we need at least one of them to try it. We should invite them back here.” Alex pushed on. “Listen, if this is half as big as it looks, they should know. Imagine if they could turn the Ravener’s own weapons against it?”

He crossed his arms across his chest, considering possibilities. “We know you need mana and mana manipulation for it to work, and of course being Thameish goes without being said. I bet Drestra could do it, probably Cedric too. That way we let them know what’s happening, and they get a heads up about enemies…from the Ravener or…elsewhere.”

“You mean cultists?” Carey asked.

Baelin, Alex and Jules exchanged a quick glance.

Professor Jules cleared her throat. “Carey…the likelihood that this was completely unnoticed by everyone in Thameland for all of history is…well it’s possible, but highly unlikely.”

“Indeed,” Baelin agreed. “In a situation like this, if such a fact is unknown by everyone who has any reason to know it, even after the passage of so much time, I would have to say it’s most likely that some…entity or entities do not wish it to be known.”

“What?” Carey blinked her large eyes. “Are you saying you think…you think there’s some kind of conspiracy? I don’t mean to be disrespectful but, that just sounds like absolute madness! Right round the bend! It…I’m sure it can all be explained. Look at all that our teams have discovered so quickly about the dungeon cores. Secrets that eluded our kingdom and the church for centuries! I mean…I mean…” Her words stopped, and a pained look crossed her face. “I mean…of course we have Generasi’s advanced magics and technologies to work with…” Her voice dropped. “Yet, I was able to interact with the core without magics or technology, I simply picked it up.” She was almost whispering now, a catch in her voice.“Someone surely should have figured this out by now…” Her words trailed off.

She looked paler. “By Uldar…what is going on?”

“I don’t know, and that’s why I’m thinking we tell the Heroes. That way, they’ll be warned since this information would matter most to them, and the way I see it, they’d be least likely to be in on…whatever’s going on, if there is something going on.”

“And if they are, we can watch their reactions first-hand, and—should they prove to be treacherous—dispense with them before they can even consider striking us,” Baelin said.

Alex looked at him somberly…knowing he was right: if the Heroes did turn out to be enemies, better to catch them alone and off guard, than with the full backing of…

…he really would like to know who the hell they were fighting.

He waited for Carey to raise a protest, but she was silent.

Alex watched as her body language seemed to wilt. There was a slump to her shoulders like a terrible weight had been placed on them. Everything about the way she looked spoke of turmoil, despair.

He remembered what he’d felt like in the Cave of the Traveller. All the questions he suddenly had. All the doubts. All the fears. Hijacking that core had shaken him. After all, who wouldn’t be shaken if they learned that what they’d been taught from childhood, what they’d believed without question, should actually be questioned. That their god’s and their homeland’s eternal enemy could be controlled by mortals, and no one had ever told them that?

Except, it was even worse for her.

After his experience in the Traveller’s Cave, he’d assumed that all mortals could control dungeon cores. Now, he’d come to understand that not all mortals could, and if dungeon cores could only be controlled by people of Thameland or specifically followers of Uldar…it meant that something was terribly wrong with their understanding of the Ravener, their struggle, and…

Alex gripped the armrests on his chair.

…maybe even Uldar himself.

Uldar’s gift to the people was to destroy the Ravener’s first incarnation, and—then—to create the Heroes. But…if his children could control dungeon cores, then why…why would he not tell them that?

Why bother with Heroes at all, why not encourage followers—who were most powerful in magic—to take command of the cores and use their own monsters against them?

Alex remembered Baelin’s distaste for deities and indeed, many were selfish, petty, fickle and arrogant. But others were kind, and wanted the best for their followers. He’d been raised on stories that Uldar was kind and caring.

The evening of his eighteenth birthday had changed his thinking and taken away some of his reverence for his god, but it hadn’t entirely died. But, now? Here he was wondering exactly what the great and ‘holy’ Uldar intended.

What was his plan?

The more he thought, the more disturbing possibilities came to mind…and that was troubling for him, someone whose faith in Uldar had become casual at best.

What about someone as devout as Carey?

She could either fall into denial and hold on to her faith, make excuses and look for other possibilities, become angry and treat what was before her as lies…

Carey shifted in her chair, clutching her trouser knees and chewing her lower lip. Her feet were planted squarely on the stones: all signs of someone trying to ground themselves. Her mannerisms spoke of…

…doubt.

Alex felt a stab of sympathy in his heart. Carey had never been his favourite person in Generasi, annoying at times though fairly harmless, but she’d always been a good lab partner and she wasn’t malicious. Did she deserve to have her world shattered?

As someone who’d lived that several times in his life, he didn’t think so.

“You know, perhaps we should let this issue lie for now,” Baelin broke through Alex’s thoughts, watching Carey carefully. “It is…trying in many ways, as some revelations can be. I agree with Alex’s idea of reaching out to the Heroes, and you, Vernia?”

The alchemy professor frowned, seeming to calculate things in her head. “Ugh…if I wanted this sort of intrigue and danger I would’ve become a court wizard. I…yes, I think it’s a good idea. Sitting on this for too long might reflect negatively on us if it were to come out…accidentally.”

“Speaking of that,” the chancellor said. “Until we are ready to reveal this, I will be calling all members of the expedition to a meeting. And I strongly recommend the use of pact magic to ensure that this does not leak outside the team before we are ready.”

Jules looked at him sharply. “Really? Are you sure that’s necessary?”

“I believe so,” Baelin said gravely. “I am sure that at the very least the researchers who were in your lab today will already be asking what has happened and…with information as sensitive as this, I would prefer it didn’t find a winding road into some demon summoner’s hands this time. It might sound distrustful…but I won’t risk betrayal again, it has already cost us too much, and we’re still dealing with fallout in the form of cultists to this day, right here in Thameland. Is there any opposition?”

Alex didn’t even have to think about it. “No…” he said. “I think it’s best. And I also get why.”

“Fair enough,” Professor Jules agreed.

Her words were followed by a drawn out silence.

“Hm? Sorry?” Carey blinked, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Er, yes, yes. I’ll swear not to tell a soul by way of pact magic.”

“Good,” the ancient wizard said. “Then we will do so. And I’ll make sure the Heroes of Thameland are contacted as soon as possible. If nothing else, if one of them chooses to attempt controlling a dungeon core, then we’ll have another data point to go by.”

###

“Pacts…pacts…” Drestra whispered, drawing symbols in the dirt with a stick. “Can I trick him? Is there some loophole I can exploit in Lord Aenflynn’s words? Maybe I can…no, no, no.”

She scratched out the idea, thinking back to the old stories.

Games of wordplay often came up in stories of the fae. There were too many disturbing tales of mortals who’d made deals with fae, only to have the otherworldly creatures trap them with some hidden meaning in their own words. But, that was the problem: most of those stories were about fae tricking people with words, not the other way around.

And Aenflynn was a fae lord: she doubted he’d be obliging enough to leave her some easy to find loophole to capitalise on. After weeks of mulling over the problem, she still hadn’t come up with anything that the ancient, clever fae wouldn’t immediately see through.

Worse, even if she were to trick him…it wasn’t as if he’d be doing them a one time service, and then she’d never see him again. His armies would be fighting by their side, and mortal children would be held in the fae realm. Even if Aenflynn miraculously honoured a deal he was tricked into, suppose he instructed his troops not to fight as hard as they could? Or what if he took vengeance out on the children given over to the fae realm?

At the end of the day, the best thing to do was to honour the spirit of the deal and make sure the fae lord walked away satisfied.

If they—

Crack.

She caught the sound of a dry leaf crunching beneath a light footstep and whirled around. A familiar, white robed figure was making his way through the trees.

“Merzhin?” she called out.

“Holy Sage. There you are, by Uldar’s holy will,” his high-tenor voice sounded relieved as he broke through the trees. “The Holy Champion sent me to find you. We have made ready to travel to the fae wilds again. Are you prepared to go?”

‘No,’ Drestra thought.

“Yes.” She stepped away from the patch of ground she’d been writing on, rubbing the symbols away with her foot. “Let’s get this done.”

Together, they made their way back to camp as Merzhin glanced back at her.

“Did you have a pleasant time communing with the wilderness?” he asked, an awkward friendliness in his voice. “I’ve always found it so delightful how the Witches of the Crymlyn weave the reverence of nature into your worship of Uldar. It’s an admirable denomination, I think. For—”

He cleared his throat. “—lo, did Uldar make all the fields fertile and the forests lush, and his benediction made the rivers and seas forevermore hold plenty so that his children might feast of his land for all their days. For this land is his greatest domain and his greatest gift to all who follow the sign of the hand.”

He made the sign of the hand before his chest. “Always,” he finished the recitation of the holy scripture. “I find that some focus too little on the agrarian sides of Uldar’s great domain.”

Drestra gave him a long look. “We worshipped the spirits, fae and land long before Uldar. It only made sense that he join them, not be worshipped instead of them.”

“Mmm, yes, fae.” Merzhin almost seemed to spit the word. “I have no idea why we’re even still entertaining this nonsense. Surely even you must be tired of it by now. This fae lord increases his price each time we are undecided. But how can we decide? What he wants from us is too monstrous to even consider. We’re wasting time, don’t you agree?”

“No,” Drestra said flatly. “I don’t think we are. I think we’d be foolish not to look at everything if we’re going to win this war.”

“Faith in Uldar and his gifts shall win us the war,” Merzhin said. “Unshakable faith. Your faith is light, Holy Sage. It is thin, like dried wheat. Have faith. Trust in Uldar and us. Look at how many cycles we have overcome the enemy, and understand that we will succeed.”

“I’m not having this argument again, Merzhin,” Drestra said.

“All of this desperation weighs heavily on the spirit,” he said. “You give yourself to a higher power—”

“Enough,” Drestra warned him.

He gave her a look and sighed. “Very well. I will drop it for now.”

“Not just ‘for now,’ ” she grunted, turning her thoughts back to the problem at hand.

As much as she hated to admit it, Merzhin was right: the way things were going, these moon-timed meetings with Aenflynn were a waste of time. The fae lord, of course, had all the time in the world to spare.

He was an immortal or near-immortal creature, and his people weren’t the ones being harmed by the Ravener. The fae even called the Ravener’s attacks the ‘Times of Plenty’. But the Heroes had far less time to spare, and less hope as he simply raised his price each time they delayed their decision.

Now the number of children he was requesting had risen to a level that even made her uncomfortable. But…she couldn’t just let go of the thought of gaining those powerful forces for the war effort.

‘Think about the spirit of what he wishes,’ Drestra thought. ‘Taking fae changelings and making them comfortable here is no problem…it’s the children going over to the fae that’s the unbearable part. But does it have to be children? He wants…something to replace the forces he’s giving us. So that means power. Mortal children would grow up in the fae world and live longer than adult mortal soldiers. Which means he wants power that will last. Military support for us now…military growth for him later. But we can’t hand him just any sort of power. What if he turns it on us? So it needs to be something that we can give him that won’t turn on us…and something that will last—’

“Drestra! Merzhin!” Hart’s voice boomed, echoing through the trees. “New information’s come in! There’s a cult to the east that needs paying a not so friendly visit to, and the priests have called for you, Merzhin. Drestra, the Generasians have called for us…and they made it sound urgent!”