Eric was a mass of bruises and sore muscles as he settled down in his bed in the barracks. He also thought that one of his ribs might be cracked, but he couldn’t be sure. Being whacked repeatedly with wooden sticks was painful. Ehran had kept the trainees going for almost two hours, despite his promise of one hour, eating up the rest of their training time. Then they’d all been expected to continue with the normal program, which meant several attempts at the obstacle course.

Climbing over the high walls and crawling under platforms had previously been an uncomfortable experience, but compiled with the beating he’d received, it had become agony. His muscles screamed in protest as he hauled himself doggedly through the course. The one good thing was that he completed it rather quickly, only taking two tries, and finishing long before the others. It was likely the result of the past two days’ intensive training, but he rather thought, sourly, that it was via a desire to get it all over with so he could go to sleep.

The other trainees were filing into the room in twos and threes now, pausing only to yank clean bedclothes and soap from their trunks before heading for the showers. Eric paid them no mind, and they in return said nothing, both parties too tired to interact past nods and grunts. After Ehran’s exercise, Eric had felt a small divide form between them. They were in different situations now, the camaraderie lost. He could try to change it by joining in the late-night discussions later, but he was too tired just then.

He slipped from wakefulness to sleep without realizing it. He was standing in a field, familiar from his multiple trips escorting Master Rainhall between Milagre and Sheran. He was strolling leisurely, just crossing over to the large swampy area that was the Stinking Pits. He wore no armor and carried no weapons, an entirely foolish idea, given the presence of Crawlers in the area. But this was a dream, so he wasn’t all that bothered.

But, as it always happens, that comforting thought had barely just formed when he heard that rapid clicking noise. Whirling in place, he saw one emerging from the bog several feet away and rush, pincers clicking and teeth gnashing, right for him. Unarmed and unprotected, he of course turned to run. Dream or not, that creature’s face was a frightening image that he wasn’t keen on.

He’d made it no further than a few steps, however, when he heard the unmistakable chilling sound of a blade slicing through flesh. Turning back yet again, he saw the Crawler falling limp to the ground, dead before it could even utter its death screech. There was something behind it, he realized. Squinting against the light shining his eyes, he could just make out the silhouette of a ragged, torn cloak, and a large curved blade on a stick. A scythe, he corrected himself.

“Well now,” the stranger said. His voice was sibilant, a quiet hiss that set the hairs on Eric’s neck standing up. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here to witness our meeting.”

Eric instinctively took several steps back, keeping his eyes locked on the figure as he came into view. He literally radiated death, a cold wave of dread washing over Eric and making him freeze, much like a snake paralyzes a bird with a glance. This man was an experienced killer, there was no doubt about it. The eyes in his face were dead, completely void of any pity or kindness.

Another sound, this time of something heavy slamming into the ground, came from behind Eric. “Don’t tease the poor mortal, Bora Bora-san.”

The new stranger walked directly past Eric towards the shadowy stranger, who relaxed at once, his serious face split by a wide grin. The two men gripped forearms in greeting, clapping each other on the shoulder. Bora Bora? Eric’s temporarily stunned mind kicked back into gear, his memory catching up a split-second later. Wasn’t that the name of the God of Death in Ahya? He forced himself to study the new stranger, that thought too huge to contemplate.

For a brief moment, seeing the straight black hair tied into a ponytail, and the glimpse of olive skin, Eric thought it was Ehran Tokugawa. But no, this man was a bit shorter, almost the same height as Eric himself. He also carried a longer, heavier weapon on his back than the slender blade that Ehran favored. He was Japanese in appearance though, like Ehran, and he had similar robes on. He was intimidating in his own right, with a potent aura of power and confidence, but it was also awe-inspiring in its own way.

“Good evening,” Bora Bora said. “Do you know why the bookworm has called us here, Shigeru?”

The second name caused just as strong a shock as Bora Bora’s. It was just as recognizable, and it took Eric no time at all to remember where from. Shigeru Tokugawa was the God of War and the original Grandmaster of Issho-Ni. He’d earned his divinity through a lifetime of battle and courage, not to mention his efforts in protecting the innocent.

“I do not know,” Shigeru admitted, his voice deep and sonorous. “Young Enri has yet to arrive as well, it seems. I imagine we’ll learn the reason before long.”

Enri! What did these two gods want with the Captain of the Queen’s Guard? Enri was descended from the God of Death, so perhaps it was just a matter of checking in on his family, providing guidance, or perhaps a blessing. But why would they meet out here in the middle of nowhere, hours from either Milagre or Sheran? Eric simply couldn’t process it all, and the two men offered him no explanation. They didn’t even seem to notice he was there, save for the fact that they’d referenced him directly. Most importantly, Eric thought, with a sharp sense of foreboding, why was he here?

Still clinging desperately to the thought that this could just be a strange dream brought on by exhaustion, Eric turned numbly as he heard the third person arrive. It was none other than Enri Ciayol, rising from a crouch to survey the two deities, then Eric. His eyes flickered between curiosity and surprise as he saw the only normal mortal in the mix, but, taking a cue from his ancestor, he made no comment.

“Good evening, Grandfather,” he said smoothly, clasping hands with Bora Bora, then bowing to Shigeru. “Master Shigeru. It is good to see you again.”

They made comments of a similar nature, staring around the sky, clearly expecting someone else. Bora Bora scoffed. “Typical of him to set this meeting, and then show up late.”

“Give him time,” Shigeru admonished gently. “I expect he is a busy man these days, with the flourishing of his school.”

“You’re too soft on your friend, Shigeru,” Bora Bora sneered. “I know he represents Arcana, but he could be more punctual.”

With a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, Eric recognized the fourth person, just from those few terms. And sure enough, as if he’d been waiting on that cue, Samuel appeared in their midst in a flash of white light. Whether intentionally or not, he’d appeared directly in front of Bora Bora, stepping on his toes as he came into view. The God of Death grunted in surprise and jumped back. Enri looked sour.

“How are you able to use World Shift more efficiently than me?” He asked, staring sidelong at the Archmage. “I have the Blade of the Body, and even I can’t appear that flawlessly.”

Samuel flashed an easy grin. “It’s a matter of practice, Enri. Give it a few hundred years, you’ll be just as good as me.”

Bora Bora and Shigeru laughed at that, and Enri scowled. Finally pushing aside his sense of dread, Eric decided to voice his most recent question. “Excuse me, why am I here?”

“I imagine Samuel-san will explain that,” Shigeru replied, his eyes sending a silent message of patience. “It is good to see you, old friend.”

Samuel and Shigeru embraced like long-lost brothers, hugging each other tightly and muttering quiet words that the others couldn’t hear. The bond of shared experience and camaraderie between them was obvious. Even Eric knew a bit of the story, thanks to Tome of the Body, which he’d begun reading only two nights previously. Samuel had been there for Shigeru’s first mortal lifetime, where they’d shared a dangerous journey

“Right,” Samuel said, once they’d finished their greeting. “Bora Bora, Shigeru-san, you’ll remember our last meeting, where I told you of Arcana’s instructions.”

Both gods nodded silently, waiting for the rest of the explanation, which wasn’t long in coming. “Well, as you know, Arcana bid me find a resident of another world and bring them here so that they can be trained and ready to handle an upcoming event.”

“You didn’t mention an event. You just said you were going to bring someone here,” Bora Bora contradicted. Then his eyes narrowed slightly, and he spared half a glance for Eric. “You don’t mean this mortal, do you? I thought I sensed something… different about him.”

“I do indeed,” Samuel said pleasantly. “Gentlemen, may I introduce Eric Breeden, resident of a faraway world. He’s been here for about a month so far, and he is progressing finely.”

All four pairs of eyes were staring intently at him now, and he shifted uncomfortably under their weight. It was as if a bright spotlight had been shone on him, pinning him in place and preventing him from hiding away. Their gazes weren’t unfriendly, merely curious. Well, Bora Bora seemed to have his mind made up already, and was staring down at him with an unmistakable air of condescension. He was the tallest of the lot, and he loomed over Eric by nearly a foot.

“Are you sure you can’t find someone else, Samuel?” He asked coolly. “He seems a tad weak for the job.”

“We don’t even know what the job is,” Samuel retorted, his voice becoming firm for a moment. “But I assure you, whatever it is, Eric will be more than up to the task. And if he’s not, then we can find another.”

Well, thought Eric, what a nice thing to say. He felt his spin straightening a little under the collected gaze of the other four as if some small part of him was determined to put on a show, to prove that he was more worthy than they thought. Shigeru smiled slightly as he saw this, his eyes twinkling with quiet warm humor. Out of all of them, Eric felt the most drawn to the God of War. It could be that he was also a warrior, or that he was the ancestor of his current favorite Ahyan.

It couldn’t have been plainer that Bora Bora found little of interest in him. A small part of Eric couldn’t blame the God of Death, who was legendary for a dozen mortal lifetimes, not to mention his undisputed defeat of some of the most legendary figures who had opposed him. Tiamat, a tarrasque, the previous God of Death. Eric could have counted higher than he had fingers, and that was saying something.

“Why isn’t Raveonic here?” Enri said suddenly. “Not that I’m sorry to see you, Master Shigeru. But why has he sent you in his stead?”

“He is resting,” Shigeru said. “He has to conserve his energy these days, keeping watch.”

They all nodded in unison at this, sharing some hidden knowledge of this mysterious Raveonic person. Eric frowned. “Why am I here, Samuel?”

“Right, sorry. I know you were trying to rest after a long day,” Samuel said. “But it’s important that you be here to hear this.”

He turned to face the others, his face set in stern lines. “I’ve found a clue. I think I know what the problem will be, and it’s not good.”