After a thoughtful day of shoveling reeking sludge, Gunnar woke back in his hut in the crypt to a flurry of notifications and messages.

Niall: You two-faced piece of shit. I will find you, and I will kill you.

Keto: Seriously brosef?? What the fudge?

Katana: Fuck you, you fucking bastard.

Very articulate, Gunnar thought, as he brushed the message alerts aside. There were none from the Beta Squad, except for Rorak, whose message was not laden with profanity, but was all the more cutting.

Rorak: I thought you were different. But you’re like everyone else in this cutthroat city.

There were more from Nighthawks he’d barely known, and some he hadn’t met at all, which he quickly dismissed.

What disturbed him most was the lack of contact from Em. He hadn’t expected her to actually think he’d betrayed them, but her silence was almost more accusatory than any of these DMs.

When he finished deleting messages and blocking the majority of the users, another notification appeared.

[You are no longer a member of the Nighthawks Guild. In fact, you are now at the very top of their hit list. Your future is bright and beautiful!]

Well, Leilani didn’t waste anytime blacklisting me, that’s for damn sure.

He dismissed the notification and turned onto his side.

And jolted upright.

Hank the Kobold sat staring at him, the creature’s ugly face inches from his own.

“You’re waking,” Hank said obviously.

“And you’re just sitting there staring at me.” His heart was racing, but he was grateful there had been no threat.

“Aha, of course! We’re roomies, my friend!”

“Hmmm, you’re right, that means staring at me sleeping isn’t creepy, after all.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Hank said. “Anywise, Cork asked me to wait for you.”

Pretty sure he just didn’t want you bugging him, Gunnar thought.

“He wants emergency council meeting,” Hank added. “The moment you’re waking. So I guess, right now.”

Gunnar rose from his bedroll, his body largely recovered from the previous day. He’d healed himself during the long trek through the woods with Sheira and Nikita. The elf had crashed in another hut, and the wolf remained back in the woods somewhere close by. Gunnar found that he could sense that now, though he couldn’t quite explain it. Something like a mental resonance, which seemed to grow stronger the more time he spent close to the wolf.

But he was definitely glad for it. A dire wolf familiar could definitely come in handy in the days ahead, and now, that they had a crypt entrance with easy access to the woods, he saw no reason not to keep her around. Maybe he’d even keep her here in the crypt at some point. Though, for now, he didn’t want to freak out any of the Cryptids.

Gunnar crossed the crypt, and made for the inner sanctum. The crypt was busy. People coming and going. Many were working on building more huts. A couple were inspecting weapons in the armory as he passed through to reach Angus’s hold ceremonial chambers, which was now the Crypt dining hall. Several long tables had been constructed, each side lined with benches. A few of the faction members were hard at work cleaning up after the midday meal.

Cork, Grippa, and the Crypt Keeper were gathered around another smaller table that had been set up in the Soul Room. Silas the First One stood statue-still on his dais, silently watching over them with bony fingers steeped in front of his skull.

The three council members greeted him at the door—Cork with hand shake, Grippa with a bear hug, and the Crypt Keeper with a firm nod.

“We’re relieved you’re all right,” Cork said. “It’s more than can be said for much of the city, I’m afraid.”

“Are the Red Cloaks still hiding out until the unrest passes?” Gunnar asked.

“The Red Cloaks are leaving,” Grippa said, as though surprised Gunnar didn’t know.

“No way, I saw some just last night. They were still guarding the Golden Hills.”

“Not anymore.”

“Do you know why?” Gunnar asked.

“The imperial governor has been slain,” said Cork. “Several of the Red Cloak outposts were hit by various guilds in the night. And there are rumors of monsters in the Golden Hills. Might just be a made up excuse.”

“The monsters aren’t made up, I can tell ya that. I killed one of them.”

“Really?” Grippa asked, impressed.

“A Venomous Wyvern,” Gunnar said. “We’ve got some things to catch up on.”

“Irregardless,” Cork began.

“Not actually a word,” Gunnar corrected.

Cork glowered at him. “Either way, the Red Cloaks are reading the signs, and leaving before things devolve into further mayhem.”

“I must confess,” the Crypt Keeper said, “I am wondering whether we would be wise to do the same. It would take some work, but we could certainly move this crypt somewhere less chaotic.”

Gunnar shook his head. “Somewhere with less opportunity for Glory, you mean.”

“And less opportunity to die,” the Crypt Keeper added.

“That too.”

“What are all these opportunities?” Cork asked. “Yeh’re not even a Nighthawk anymore.”

“How did you know that?” Gunnar asked.

“There are signs all over the city,” Grippa said. “I saw them this morning.”

“What signs?”

“Wanted posters,” Grippa said. “With, er, quite significant rewards.”

“Ugh! That’s what I get for sleeping, I guess.”

“I don’t understand,” the Crypt Keeper said.

“Never mind,” said Gunnar. “But I guess I should be grateful you all haven’t turned me in.”

Cork and Grippa both crossed their arms over their chests.

“Yeh know us better than that,” Cork said indignantly.

“I’m grateful, nonetheless.”

“You don’t need some fancy guild anyway,” Grippa said. “You have us.”

“Which is why we should consider leaving,” the Crypt Keeper said.

“Nah,” Gunnar said, “there is a real opportunity here. And I don’t know about you, but I hate the idea of Thailen being taken over by people like Sykes and Leilani.”

“And how do you think Em feels about that?” the Crypt Keeper asked pointedly.

“I haven’t heard from Em,” Gunnar said. “Er, have any of you?”

“No,” Cork said. “All of us have tried to reach her.”

“No response,” said Grippa.

“And that doesn’t make us feel any better about our prospects in Thailen,” said the Crypt Keeper.

It didn’t make Gunnar feel any better either. Surely, Em knew he wouldn’t betray her. But why else wouldn’t she have reached out by now.

“Look, the Nighthawks will be coming back soon from Mavenport,” Gunnar said. “We’ll figure it out soon. Em is still with us, I’m sure of it.”

“I hope you’re right, Gunnar,” the Crypt Keeper said.

“There are more factors at stake here than just Gunnar Ashwood, yeh know,” said Cork.

Gunnar sighed, and thought for a moment. They were right, he couldn’t afford to jeopardize all their fates. But Em, and all the Nighthawks were not a lost cause. In fact, they would be key for what he had in mind.

The only problem was, as usual, time was not on his side.

“Give me two days,” Gunnar said. “Two days to show you we’ve still got a future in Thailen. If we fail, we’ll move on.”

“And if we succeed?” Cork asked.

“We may change the fate of Thailen forever,” Gunnar said.

“Don’t be hyperbolic,” said Cork.

“What do you have in mind?” asked Grippa, more eagerly.

“There’s one last master from the Nighthawks,” Gunnar said. “The Grand Master. The only one Leilani didn’t kill. She’s going to try. And if we can stop her, we can show the Nighthawks what she really is—a damn traitor.”

“And that changes the fate of Thailen?” Cork asked.

“That is just the first move. One that is going to take the Cryptids out of the crypt, and make us a force to be reckoned with in this city.”

Grippa was grinning, and Cork nodded his head, seeing the potential, if dimly.

The Crypt Keeper grimaced, but acquiesced. “You have two days to prove to us that this is a worthy venture.”

“No pressure,” said Cork, but he was fighting back an eager smile.

***

There was much planning to be done, but Gunnar took the first opportunity he had to leave the crypt. Nikita came trotting up, moments after he appeared from the secret entrance in the woods.

The forest was still, but for the twittering of birds and the scampering of squirrels. It reminded him of the parks back home. But he couldn’t let himself linger on those thoughts long.

He didn’t understand why he was here, or why powerful people kept wanting to woo him. But more and more, he wondered if everything he’d previously thought was a lie.

For now, all he could do was keep going.

Resist the gods, Lex had told him before she died.

Nikita nuzzled up against his side, and he stroked her fur between his fingers, which was remarkably soothing. She circled around him, letting his hand run over her back and stopped, while he scratched her rear flank with both hands. She let out a series of soft grunts.

He knew the wolf meant to comfort him, but somehow, being with her only made him wish all the more that Em were there with him. Her silence seemed to press on him like a great weight of fear and uncertainty.

“Hey, don’t get too familiar over there!”

Nikita let out a growl and spun around, but Gunnar just casually turned to face the voice.

“It’s just Azmar being an idiot as usual,” he said.

“Assumed it would go without saying,” Azmar went on, “but beastiality won’t win you many favors from your viewership.”

“Too far, man,” Gunnar said. “Way too far.”

“Look, a man gets lonely. He’s no good at wooing mates of his own kind. I don’t judge.”

“God, I can’t even pet my own wolf?”

“Look, I’m just saying, if you were massaging my ass like that, it would be weird, and it would not play well. I don’t see why a wolf would be any different.”

“You obviously never had a dog,” Gunnar said.

Nikita bristled as though indignant at the comparison, and Gunnar couldn’t help but laugh.

“Look, I was hoping you’d show up,” Gunnar said.

“Quit trying to butter me up.”

“I’m serious.”

“And seriously, what do you want?” Azmar’s words were drawn out and gravelly as ever.

“I want an audience with Nymoria,” Gunnar said.

Azmar huffed. “You can’t demand something like that.”

“I’m her champion,” Gunnar said. “Is that so ridiculous of an ask?”

“From you? Everything is ridiculous, and especially this.”

“So, you can’t make it happen.”

“I’m saying in all my years as her most trusted hero’s mentor, she has never visited one of servants in person. And she sure as hell isn’t going to start—”

But Azmar never finished what he was going to say.

The forest glowed so bright, Gunnar thought he was looking at the sun for a moment. The entire wood faded into white light around them.

He covered his eyes and instinctively—and perhaps, a little performatively—dropped to one knee.

Nymoria was not dressed in the immaculate gowns Gunnar was used to seeing each time he advanced levels. She wore leathern armor, and held a knotted-looking wooden staff with a luminescent gem at the head. Her voluminous hair was pulled back into one thick braid, and extended midway down her back.

Her skin shimmered despite being covered in dirt and blood, and she strode through the woods with a slight limp.

Gunnar bowed his head to his goddess, and she offered him a tired smile.

“Not gonna lie, I didn’t think you were actually here—you know—in-game.” When he’d met her IRL, she hadn’t had any of the hardware in her body that he possessed. But perhaps there were other ways.

“Of course, I’m here,” Nymoria said, her voice soft and full, reminding him vaguely of a singer he couldn’t place. “You may rise, both of you.”

Azmar had been bowing too. Nikita had not moved a muscle. The wolf eyed the goddess warily, though she did not growl like she had at Azmar.

“My lady,” Azmar began.

“I’m not here to speak with you, Azmar,” Nymoria said curtly. “I’m here to speak to my champion.”

Gunnar could not hold back a pointed grin at the creature.

“What do you want, Gunnar?” Nymoria asked.

“I thought you should know, I was visited by another of your godly associates.”

“Here?” Nymoria asked.

“He sent cherubs in Thailen,” Gunnar said. “But he came to me IRL right before I came here.”

Nymoria did not offer any reaction to the information.

“Luka came to visit me in prison,” Gunnar clarified.

“I see.”

“He said he could do a lot more for me than you could.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“You’re not going to deny that he could?”

“What do you think?” Nymoria asked.

“I think… I don’t like him. I don’t think I like any of the Elysian gods.”

“That makes two of us.”

Gunnar smiled. He had hoped he was reading things correctly. “I wanted you to know that I have no intention of joining him when I reach Level 30.”

Nymoria tried not to react, but she let a small smile slip. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“I don’t like Thailen under Luka’s rule either.”

“Luka has ruled this place for a very long time,” Nymoria said. “As all the Elysians have ruled throughout the Reddik Empire.”

“Maybe it’s time for that to end,” Gunnar said.

“What are you proposing?”

“I think it’s time things changed for the Elysians. Luka wants a guild war to build up his own Glory, but I think there’s an opportunity for a bigger change.”

“It would take a lot to alter anything in this realm, even in a backwater city like Thailen.”

“Perhaps,” said Gunnar. “But Luka is also an arrogant prick. And the thing about arrogant pricks is they always underestimate people like you and me.”

“You’re proposing more than just a guild war,” Nymoria said. “You’re suggesting a war against Luka.”

Gunnar nodded.

Nymoria strode over to him and clasped his shoulder. Warmth spread through his entire body at her touch.

The goddess’s eyes gleamed in the soft light of the forest.

“I knew I chose the right champion.”