You've done well as an administrator. You could trace the source of the tampering to Caqur, then to us. Truly the pride of our choosing. A voice echoed in her head, causing her, unlike her usual self, to gasp.

Standing in the second courtyard, Fermand did not expect the Cabal to reveal themselves to her when she spent the night further examining the Ritual of Intent. While the wraith was defeated, Mirayoung, Jerius and Holz had disappeared without a single trace. It was all a cesspool of intrigues and suspicions that prompted her to revisit potential clues including the Ritual of Intent.

She opened her mouth to call out the identity that she now knew, but nothing came out as two Sen Guards stood at the far side of the courtyard, unsuspecting. She too, was bound by the Thrall. She swiftly dismissed the guards, ensuring she was now alone in the entire courtyard. If the Cabal were the masterminds, she could not afford letting it slip out even to her closest confidantes and retainers.

"Why?" Fermand said, intoning the word after speaking at last to the masterminds behind the scene. It was all she could manage, standing and feeling very alone in the Dual Cell.

Why, you ask. The voice replied.

"I do not understand," Fermand said.

Beneath the mask she wore over her face was a cauldron of emotions she could not dispel and which threatened to spill out. She felt utter shock, growing fires of fury, and agony of betrayal, all intermixing to become a sum greater than its parts in an attempt to break her emotionless facade.

"You cultivated wraiths to murder so many, but to what end? To initiate the Ritual of Keys?" Fermand said. "What is the madness you seek? New knowledge? Godhood? Destruction of Elaria?"

Every great cause has martyrs, Fermand. Their deaths are in the utilitarian spirit, necessary for our realm to progress.

"Master Zele," Fermand said. "Are you there? Are you complicit in this madness?"

Zele is us. We're Zele. There's no individual now...for the most part. Fermand, how much do you remember about the Ritual of Keys? The Contract Bearers? The spirit-gates between this realm and the netherworld realm?

"There are more pressing matters at hand, Lord Cabal," Fermand said.

Explain to us, Fermand. You seek the truth, and this is the foundation on which the truth is built.

"The Ritual of Keys exposes the spirit-gates for destruction," Fermand said through gritted teeth. "The Contract Bearers protect the gates from said destruction. When the gates are destroyed, spirits from the dead in our realm no longer flow to the netherworld. They accumulate here. And then what after that, I do not know. The Ritual of Keys has never been enacted in history. It's a forbidden ritual that upsets the laws of not just this realm, but the realm after.

You've misunderstood. This ritual is the panacea we seek for the realm. Without it, we'll continue accursed.

"Enlighten me on this panacea and without the doublespeak please, Lord Cabal," Fermand said.

Is death truly the natural order, or have we been deceived since the beginning of time? That's a question we have sought for centuries, and for as long, the answer eluded us until...we discovered a passage to travel to and from the spirit realm for the briefest of moments. And we saw in those moments, the spirit realm is not what we thought it to be.

"The final resting place for souls?"

So we thought, like ignoramuses we were. The realm is not a host like ours. It is a devourer of souls. We're a lesser realm...a farm of souls trapped in eternal servitude. And it's not just our realm. We're one of many that are equally plagued by death. We call this the Imai Curse, the curse of the lesser realms. We seek to break loose from it and progress to become a greater realm, impervious to the devourer.

Fermand's spine grew cold as if someone had slipped ice down its length. This was a revelation she least expected, and it reflected in her eyes. If‒just if‒it were all undertaken to liberate the besieged realm, what then were the few deaths compared to the outcome? But what is this devourer? What is the horror that awaited them after their deaths?

"If enacting the Ritual of Keys is one in the many steps to liberate the realm from the great devourer, why not gather support from the rulers of the Cities? Why orchestrate the plans while lurking in the darkness? You're not merely some second-rate mage. You're Lord Cabal. Your call to gather will bring the kings from all four corners of the world to the table."

The rulers of the Cities are shortsighted and obtuse, unable to amount more than petty strife and quarrels that the Guild can stand to profit. But we are above that, and we merely seek the path with the highest probability of success. Machinations in the dark triumphed over other methods in our calculations.

"Your machinations dictated the destruction and deaths of two, no, three cities?" Fermand said, referring to the ruins of Gainac, Nox and Bliaton.

Fermand sighed. "Why Ludger?"

It was Ludger, you or a quarter of the Guild for the amount of spiritual energy we need. The choice is obvious; the decision absolute.

Even as a voice in her mind, she could sense the chilliness when they finished the last sentence. The dominant personality of Thesos Parora shone through the entity called Cabal that she conversed with. Oldest of the Cabal and son of the Guild's founder was known for his iron-handed leadership and short temper. It made Fermand wonder how much of each individual's personality had morphed the Cabal.

"Did you kill Mirayoung too because she sought to obstruct the plan? Dying to the wraith would be a convenient excuse," Fermand said.

She is very much a knot in our plan, but she's alive. Someone saves her, but she is in the Guild no more.

"She did so with my explicit instruction," Fermand pointed out. "Am I too, an obstacle to be removed?"

No, she has a history of working against the rules. She questions the dogmas of the Guild. While you enforce them.

Fermand looked down, defeated. "Dogmas? Prosperity. Growth. Knowledge. Order. I'm weary unto death of my role. I'll not shy from the truth that I've been undermined by you, the echelon of the Guild. While I hold order in the light, your machinations in the dark ultimately sway the fate of the Guild or even that of the world, without seeking my counsel. What then are my duties for? Why then should I toil for these rules that bend freely at your will, even for a loftier goal?"

The machinations only work in the shadow of your administration, and in the semblance of order you maintain. You're the anchor on which we chart the course of salvation, even greatness, for the entire realm.

"Pardon my nerves but these are merely pretty words," Fermand said.

Maybe, if you insist. But those from Sotalus are not merely pretty words. Words we know you still remember with the freshness of yesterday. Your son did not suffer from delusions. He saw the horror that was Nox, not because of Nox...but because Nox rests on one of the Keys tied to the Great Devourer. Did he ever tell you his visions?

Hearing her son's name prompted Fermand to look up again, revealing her increasingly pale face that was pinched with grief. "He just kept repeating that a void awaited us."

The Great Devourer.

"So all those who helped you stand by this cause of fighting the devourer?"

You, believe us, are the only one who knows the true purpose. The rest are necessary pawns, driven by their grief to revive their loved ones.

"Does the Ritual of Keys do that?" Fermand said, her voice edged with hopefulness.

Perhaps. We do not fully know till we complete the ritual and destroy the Keys. But we did glean the long queues of souls from our briefest moments in the spirit realm. We are dealing with a Great and Slow Devourer. And in that we may bring back the souls of those we thought were long gone, Fermand.

Fermand felt her heart beating so fast she thought it would burst out of her chest. The bigger the hope, the harder the fall. Hurriedly, she tempered her expectation by saying, "Unless properly handled, souls of the dead that linger in our realm would become hauntings, in the forms of ghouls, zombies and other malicious creatures. Will we be trading one horror for another?"

Not if you aid us. Will you, Fermand?

"The answer still eluded. Why didn't you come to me from the beginning? Why waited till now when I sought you with heavy spells?"

Some of us were unsure. You were known for your adherence to law and order. But our fear was unfounded, after all. Will you aid us, Fermand?

Fermand did have much more questions and misgivings, the first of which was this could all just be a well-crafted lie to earn her allegiance. It was not above the Cabal to do that, and they could be highly charming liars with enough motivation.

Even if they were true to their words of liberating the realm, their interpretation of the Great Devourer might be incorrect. In the briefest of moments, they might have formed the wrong impression or misunderstood the spirit-realm's act as devouring, when in fact, it was a blessing; within the Devourer, for all she knew, might be the elusive nirvana described in the tales, and the act of devouring was but the passage to paradise.

Fermand was tormented, torn between her duties as an administrator, her own compass to seek the higher truths before committing a decision and her maternal instinct. The latter grew in him as her mind walked through the memories of her son and her arms itching to embrace him again. There was nothing a mother would not do to see her son alive again.

What will be your answer, Fermand?

⧪⧪⧪

That night, Holz stared out of the highest floor of the northernmost tower in the Guild. He could see beyond the concentric wall, where a wide grassland resided in the yonder. He looked down at his arms, feeling the sparkles of the Cabal Source arcing over his skin.

It took him an hour to decide on another course of action.

Holz closed both fists, channelling the Cabal Source.

What are you doing, Holz? The voice of Cabal echoed in his head.

Holz did not reply, radiating an aura of power stronger than any other individual mage within the Guild. Doubtlessly, all the mages in the Guild had sensed this sudden surge of energy.

Return the key to the source.

Incandescent with power, Holz turned the Cabal Source's incredible power unto itself. His mighty frame endured the backlash of such a feat as the sigils over his body lit from being battered by the chaotic attempt of triggering an implosion.

Are you intending to destroy the source key? You dare such a feat?

How dare you, Holz?

You will not be able to honour that promise if you do.

"Don't treat me a fool. The Ritual of Keys is almost set in stone, with or without the Cabal Source."

The Cabal's voice chorused in his head, growing louder and angrier.

Holz could sense a slip of control over the Cabal Source as the Cabal interfered, wresting control of the source from him. From within their vast arsenal of spells, they raged on him but Holz resisted. The Cabal Source was still his to control, and to defend was a hundred folds easier than to usurp.

A faint smile touched his lips, as he could sense that the implosion was near completion.

Holz roared as the wild, surging arcane energies from the Cabal Source overflowed from him; the chaos he introduced into the massive reserve with the finesse of an archmagus agitated the content, spawning a whirlpool that grew increasingly out of control. His eyes blazed like falling stars as he readied himself.

You fool!

A shockwave exploded from him, shattering all the glasses in his room and rattling the many weapons he placed on the rack and tables. While it seemed miniscule, the impact was far stretching. While every archmagus or magus, with the right setup and permissions, could access the Cabal Source for limited use, only the one with the source key could channel the full power of it. By shattering that, the immense power of the Cabal Source, along with the Cabal Network, would be disabled. It was akin to destroying the key that opens the door to a treasure trove. The Cabal would be able to repair it in due time, but it would take a while and give Jerius and Mirayoung time to escape the overseeing eyes of the Cabal that lorded over them all.

What have you done, Holz? Do you have any ideas at all?

"Easing a wounded conscience," he merely said. He remembered Jerius's disdain-filled words of calling him a barbarous man, suddenly regarding those words as plaudits he was willing to accept in his character.

Truly a maverick who answers to no one, Master of War.

He shut off his mind from the Cabal.