Sorcha, Airleas, Caylin, Finvarra, Onora. Each name had been on the magic tapestry in the ancient ruins, and all of them had been followed by Tolabar So’maevka. Ten thousand years in the Deep-Forest, cut off from the tree-song and alone. Jake’s skin crawled thinking about what they must have been through. Would he have handled that any better?

“They were all wood elven mages from Tolabar, during the Age of Heroes,” he said, the sheer horror of it refusing to sink into his mind. “

The others stared back at him. Cara tilted her head from side to side and Edana’s brow furled. Luther, meanwhile, nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and who knew what Jeremy was thinking behind that gruff mask.

Elivala scoffed and shook her head. “These are no wood elves.”

No questioning of how he knew. She had to know all about the trip to the ruins. Probably hoping they’d skip over exactly where the information came from.

Jake glanced at Edana. Damn it, who cared about some stupid taboo now? “They have corrupted versions of Mend, Commune, Grow, Shapechange, and Rebirth, don’t they?”

Doubt flickered across Elivala’s face. She took a deep breath and sighed. “That correlates, yes, but it proves nothing.”

Edana looked between the two of them and tilted her head. “Rebirth? Grow? What are you talking about? And how do you know names purged from history?”

“I went to the ancient mage ruins,” Jake said. No need to mention that Jeremy and Cara had been there too, and probably Elivala as well. Not that any of them would have had enough Discern Magic to read it. “They’re mentioned in the magical tapestries there, as are all five of those spells.”

“You knew about this?” Edana asked, staring wide-eyed at Elivala. Her gaze shifted to Jeremy. “And you too?”

Jeremy nodded, his grim expression unflinching, leaving Edana speechless.

“It doesn’t matter,” Elivala said. “We kill them, or they kill us.”

Jake’s chest clenched tight. “How could it not matter that they’re sentient?”

Dead eyes stared back at him. “They’re dungeon spawn. The enemy.”

Red-hot rage flared in Jake’s chest. “Oh, and it’s that simple, is it?”

“Yes.”

His fists balled up, and he turned away before he did something they’d all regret. “They’re your people. We can reason with them.”

Cara’s hand settled on his back, a welcome source of comfort. “You weren’t here.” Her hand trembled and her voice broke. “The things they’ve done…”

Jake took a deep breath and sighed. If even Cara didn’t want to help them, maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were nothing more than an enemy to kill.

This wasn’t his world, but it didn’t make sense. Why would they attack their own home?

A pit formed in his stomach. Had they? “When did they first attack?”

Elivala took in a sharp breath. “We’re wasting time. The dungeon spawn have been attacking us since before you arrived, Lookout.”

“No, not the dungeon spawn. The dryads. When did they first attack?”

Another scoff from the Keeper. “The dryads began encircling us shortly before Cara returned. She can vouch for their brutality.”

The pit in Jake’s stomach grew deeper. “Cara?”

Cara stared at the floor, her slumped shoulders a sorry sight to behold. “Phelan led the mission.”

Jake’s breath caught. What had they done?

“We snuck up behind the tree, the dryad, and we…” Cara grimaced and shook her head. “We struck first.”

“No,” Elivala said. “They struck first by attacking the Forest.”

Ten thousand years alone. Jake’s fingernails bit into his palms. Lost, ripped away from their home, and then, when their imprisonment finally ended, attacked by their own family. “And the full-scale attacks started after that?”

Jeremy grunted and shook his head. “No. That began only after we took killed a dryad and stole its corpse.” He stared at Elivala. “We can’t dismiss this.”

Tension hung thick in the air. Eventually, the Keeper nodded. “Fine, but it changes nothing. There’s no indication they can even communicate, let alone be reasoned with each other.”

“They communicate with each other,” Cara said, fire returning to her eyes. “There’s a psychic link between them.”

Jake’s heartbeat kicked up a beat. It might work. “Alright then, if we can convince one, they can convince the others.”

“Ten thousand years is a long time,” Edana said. “What if they can’t be reasoned with?”

“We have to try.”

Elivala crossed her arms. “And what do you propose? That we walk up to them and give them back their fallen sister?”

“That wouldn’t be a bad start.”

Cara gasped. Her chin trembled, and she shook her head. “We can’t.”

“It’s a risk, sure, but what’s the alternative?”

She clenched her eyes shut and turned away. “Do you know what that cost us?”

“What’s gone is gone,” Jake said, ignoring the sinking feeling and pressing on. “All we can fight for is what’s left.”

Cara glanced back at him with dead eyes and stormed off. Jake bit his lip. What had it cost her? And why, oh why, hadn’t he been here to stop it?

Elivala clasped her hands behind her back and glared at him. “Thank you for your report, Lookout. Dismissed.”

Jake took a deep breath, bowed his head, and hurried after Cara. Idiots. Scared or not, they couldn’t fight their way out of this one. They had to see that, right? Even with the dwarves, infinite respawning dungeon spawn versus mortals could only end one way.

“Cara, wait up!”

She kept going with her back turned to him. At least she wasn’t running. Maybe he should have been more sensitive, but that didn’t make it any less true. Not everything—or everyone—could be saved.

Like his father. He swallowed hard. Except he had to save his father. That stupid quest. Save his father, save the world.

A world that contained Cara, and countless others that deserved to live.

He jogged up alongside her. “I’m here for you. If you want it.”

“For how long?” she said, kicking at the dirt with her foot.

“As long as I can.”

She turned on him, her wide emerald eyes interrogating his soul. “Why?”

Pressure pounded against his chest. “Because…” How to even answer that? He threw up his arms and shrugged. “Because I care about you.”

She looked away and fiddled with the dagger at her belt. “You barely know me.”

“You’re the bravest and most inspiring person I’ve ever met, and I can’t wait to get to know you more.”

“Inspiring?” She rolled her eyes. “Now I know you’re playing with me.”

“You inspired me to save Valbort.”

She scoffed. “You saved the dwarves well enough without me.”

The dreadful memory of that piercing crack punched Jake in the gut. “No…” He looked down at the floor. “Not all of them.”

Time dragged out. She pulled him close and wrapped his hand in hers. “Your father. What happened?”

“He…” Pathetic tears swelled in his eyes. “A young dwarf, a mage. Orlanda.” Jake gulped and pulled Cara into a hug. “He snapped her neck, right in front of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She held him tight and stroked his back as the memory played over and over in his mind and tears slid down his cheeks onto her shoulder.

“Why did he do it?”

Trembling, barely able to speak, he forced out the horrific truth. “To teach me a lesson.”

Her embrace tightened. “It’s not your fault,” she said, again and again, as if the words would make it true.

Eventually, the pointless tears ran out. He pulled away and wiped his eyes down to an embarrassing moistness. “Who did you lose taking the dryad?”

Her posture slumped. “Aidan,” she mumbled, staring at the ground.

Jake’s brow furled. Aidan? The young ranger came to mind. A nice guy, though maybe a little uptight. Good with healing.

Not anymore.

Pain twisted in Jake’s gut. “I’m sorry.”

“I could have saved him…” Cara said, refusing to look up. “I chose the mission over him.”

He wrapped her in his arms again. “It’s not your fault.”

“What if it was pointless?”

Jake held her tighter. “It still wouldn’t be your fault. You did the best you could in the situation. That’s all anyone can ever do.” He gulped. “Most don’t even try to do that.” Including me.

A chill ran down his spine. He broke off the hug and glowered at the clearing and the silent forest beyond. Not a single bird song or cry. Even the Forest was dying.

What the hell were they doing, crying over one death when a thousand more waited to happen?

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand in his, “let’s go save as many damned lives as we can.”

He led them back to Elivala and the other leaders. Ardic, only just arrived and already very animated in their discussions, nodded his head at Jake, beckoning him over.

As Jake approached, Elivala shot him a death glare. “Your attendance is not required, Lookout.”

A smirk peeked out behind Luther’s grim expression. “Mage Jake, Lord Tonvalbortdelan requests and requires your counsel.”

Awkward, but Elivala’s scowl was worth it. Jake bowed his head and approached the circle. “Thank you.”

Cara settled in close behind him, yet Elivala didn’t give her the same contempt. Was she moving up in the wood elven hierarchy? Good for her.

“You have significant experience with dungeon spawn,” Ardic said, pretending Elivala wasn’t seething. “What would you recommend?”

All eyes focused on Jake. No pressure, just the fate of a thousand wood elves.

“We can’t fight them head-on,” he said. “They respawn, you don’t, and unlike me, they’ll come back as strong as ever. The dryads won’t show their faces willingly—if they’d been near this battle, they’d have buffed the cannon fodder and you’d all be dead.”

“Cannon fodder?” Edana asked, tilting her head.

“The weaker dungeon spawn. They’re disposable, the dryads aren’t. They’re named—and they display fear. They’re sentient. That means we can reason with them.”

Elivala scoffed. “Evil cannot be reasoned with.”

“Evil?” Pain gripped Jake’s heart under the memory of the Destroyer ripping dwarves limb from limb. “I’ve seen evil, and I don’t think they’re that.”

Rage flickered across Elivala’s face. “You wouldn’t say that if it were your family dead in the dirt.”

No, I’d be fucking celebrating. He bit his tongue, holding back fiery anger. This wasn’t the time. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“We can’t let their sacrifices be in vain!”

“We have to!” Rage boiled in his chest, but the mission had to come first. Jake sighed and clamped down on the fire. “What’s more important, our guilt, or saving all those people out there?”

Silence. She knew the answer, just the same as he did. Not that it made it any easier.

Ardic, even more somber than Jeremy, spoke first. “Yana the Dragon. Destroyer of Tarkath, sworn enemy of the dwarves, and, if Jake’s right, dungeon spawn. Yet, without her, Valbort would have been destroyed.”

“Was it easy?” Elivala said, her pained expression twitching slightly. “Asking her to save your people?”

He shook his head. “No. I refused permission, but Jake did it anyway. That’s why we’re alive today. Do not make the same mistake I did.”

“Fine.” She straightened back up, retreating behind a stiff mask devoid of emotion. “I believe we should stay and fight. Ardic suggests we flee via the Erinbar portal. What do you propose, Mage Jake?”

Jake tensed up. Fighting was suicide, but retreating would only delay the conflict, and time was not on their side. Why did this come down to him? Why couldn’t they save them-damned-selves for once?

All players are heroes. Be a Hero, become a Legend!

His blood ran cold. No. No way. He swallowed hard, but it made too much sense.

Why had Cara never left the Forest, despite wanting to explore? Why had they completely dismissed Cara’s pleas to withdraw? Why had he still not come across a Spellcrafter, yet Orlanda had chosen to become one almost instantly after meeting him? Why had there not been a war for 10,000 years?

His stomach churned, but he had to press on. “We evacuate everyone but a small squad. If the dryads have any kind of magic up, I can track them with that. We fly in, find them, and then we talk.”

“And when that doesn’t work?” Elivala asked.

Jake’s heart grew heavier still. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. But if it did, he had to be ready. “Then we will do what has to be done.”