Morwen’s airship flotilla bounded for the betrayers; the Church of Mortem clergy were successfully lured into their trap. More than a thousand enemies were ahead of them.

  It was an army of undead soldiers, led by a group of about a hundred necromancers and support personnel. They were heading through a valley to remove the flag and had ambushed their small force of Servants of Arawn placing them, and now, Morwen’s forces had sealed off the exits into the canyon-like valley.

  To her surprise, there were several hundred people in chains. Likely, people from nearby villages gathered for sacrificial purposes.

  Morwen sighed. “They took the bait, but I’m a little disappointed. They aren’t that many, just a few dozen people leading them.”

  Bedwyr chuckled from on top of his undead mount, his war scythe at the ready. “Not many? They do have one of their immortal legions with them. This is much better than the last group we caught. They knew nothing.”

  Morwen smirked at the name of their flawed undead legion. The faithful clergy of Mortem practiced what many might consider a form of holy or righteous necromancy. Only followers who were faithful and sought to become protectors of the next generations would be marked. Their bodies were then prepared and placed in holy mausoleums to become undead legionnaires, protectors of future generations once they died.

  The church did appear to be much like faithful scientific necromantic researchers, and so their research over centuries had led them to become fairly successful. Those they performed special rites on had a significant chance of awakening within their tombs within a decade.

  The higher-ups of the church were known to be able to make it nearly a sure thing, and the awakened legionnaire would be fairly strong, protectors of their world in their second life. Unfortunately, at some point they must have come in contact with Tartarus through special means and begun betraying the things they once protected. Morwen hoped to capture these people and find out more.

  She said, “I do hope we learn something valuable here. The contest on this world isn’t going too poorly, but it is clear there is something brewing beneath the surface. That we’ve claimed their means of secret communication helps significantly. The natives will be on their own with no off-world wisdom to aid them.”

  “They may no longer need assistance with their plots in order for them to come to fruition, however. We must be vigilant.” Her husband responded.

  “Of course. It’s all the more reason it is important for us to capture some of their leaders and learn what those plots are. Let’s see if we can get some answers.”

  As their airships were spotted coming from multiple directions, the lead necromancer enhanced his voice using magic. “Come no closer. I am Cardinal Arivel, and you are acting against the Church of Mortem. If you don’t allow us to go free, we will slay these peasants, and you can consider yourselves at war with our church.”

  The cardinal wore white vestments with black and gray adornments, images of bones and skulls sewn throughout. He also rode a skeletal mount of some kind, though she knew it could not even compare to the paladin of Arawn’s steeds.

  Many of the necromantic clergy grimaced at the mention, their jaws tightening, and others frowned and looked uncomfortable as they looked back to the numerous captives. Morwen could see that they did not all necessarily agree with this.

  She held up her hand and sent a signal over their nearby voice communications, the flotilla coming to a slow stop at both edges of the valley. The hundreds of captives were boxed in by the legion’s formation, making it a challenge for her people to aid them exactly. However, quite a few of her casters were already beginning to pool and prepare their mana to be infused into the magic circles rapidly, which would give her options.

  Morwen replied with her voice enhanced with mana as well. “Very well, we have stopped for now. Your duty is inscribed on every monolith and every temple, is it not? You use the dead to protect life, an honorable charge. You would betray and kill these people during wartime, empowering your enemy, going against Mortem’s teachings and your sacred duty? For what reason?”

  “Anything in the name of the True Mortem. These people were lacking faith and brought Mortem’s judgment upon them. We are only carrying it out sooner.”

  “Carrying out Mortem’s judgment? But you’d let them go for your own safety. Is that not betraying your duty?”

  “It is a small price to pay to continue serving the True Mortem. We shall judge these unbelievers later if we allow them to go free now.”

  “True Mortem? Ah, the voice on the other end of that token of yours. I’ll have you know that the voice was nothing more than a traitor of the living and no master or god of death. It will no longer speak to you, as the owner of the voice has been slain.”

  “Blasphemy! The voice of the True Mortem cannot be quieted by mere mortals.”

  Morwen shook her head; she supposed it was pointless to argue. “How is it you will judge these people if we do not allow you to leave?”

  “We will allow the immortal legion to carry out Mortem’s judgment. As it should be.”

  “Ah, so you would use these undead here to carry it out? Their very own ancestors, awakened with the sole purpose of protecting them, slaying them instead? How brutal. I have a counteroffer for you. Those who throw down their weapons and release their spells will be shown mercy, but all others will be captured and experience Arawn’s judgment for betraying this world.” She added, “The Shadows of Tir Na Nog are a hellish nightmare of mud, vines, and thorns, where you will experience agony for which release will feel like a tender mercy.”

  “You’re bluffing. We know about your Hearthtribe. You would not risk world natives' lives and allow us to feed the enemy.”

  “But you would? Unfortunately for you, your threat is not good enough, and you will see why in but a moment. Why don’t you try to carry out your bluff, then? I’d like to see this judgment of yours. Then we will make you pay for your sins against this world and all those who live on it. You cannot escape.”

  She signaled the flotilla, and so their airships began surging forward, and Morwen jumped onto the back of her husband Bedwyr’s skeletal mount as he took to the air on it. Many of her priestesses began infusing mana into their magic circles, preparing several spells at once.

  Numerous other Paladins of Arawn took to the air as well, racing ahead of the airships. There were only a few dozen of them dashing toward the army of more than a thousand, but their goal was only to disrupt the enemy for a short period.

  As she had expected, there was quite a bit of hesitation from the many Church of Mortem necromancers. After all, even if they betrayed their people and slew all the people present, that would not stop her army from surrounding and trapping them. Many had simple mounts,

  The man who was leading them was shocked and slow to respond but eventually began shouting out orders and stirring his mana, trying to order the undead legion to commit this atrocity and, likely, threatening those hesitating into compliance.

  Unfortunately, it seemed that nearly none were going to give up, as only a couple threw their weapons down or relinquished their control–their own auras of death.

  Even with the wave of death mana commanding them, the thousand-corpse legion hesitated. Only a few of the warriors drew their weapons from their scabbards or drew their bows before the Arawn Clergy’s spells began to spread out.

  Thanks to having prepared their mana while Morwen negotiated, a domain of death and cold spread out like mirrors to their magic circles beneath the airships. It covered the undead legion, the living, and the Mortem clergy alike with a cold fog that strangled the life of those in it. The Mortem cleric’s domains of death attempted to deny Hearthtribe’s, but the cold continued, sapping their heat and strength.

  The airships didn’t need to land to expand their domain, and many Servants of Arawn began leaping out of the airships, repelling down with ropes or using slowfall capabilities, to surround and engage if necessary. It likely wouldn’t be, because the next few spells would cement their victory.

  The cold, death domain had a profound weight behind it, as if the area became the underworld itself. Her priestesses then latched onto the undead with their wills, but rather than ordering and forcing them like the foolish necromancers, they merely comforted and empowered them against their minders.

  The cold stillness of death reinforced their wills, and they were reassured their undying will to protect their descendants would be carried out by true righteous justice. Their descendants would be saved–they only had to stay their hands. They knew this, and as the numerous captives begged and pleaded for their lives, it stirred their memories and their purpose from when they were alive.

  Morwen couldn’t help but chuckle at how the numerous Mortem necromancers, especially their leader, struggled. Such was the downside of preserving the dead’s will. If they wanted puppets or slaves to commit their betrayals, why bother with all that? Just trap shards of spirits and souls in corpses and control them like a regular evil necromancer.

  “Why? Why won’t they move? And why won’t the voice answer?”

  The paladins of Arawn swung their weapons down, unleashing waves of frost which the many necromancers attempted to fight back against at the last minute with barriers and auras of death. As always, her warriors did their best to prevent accidentally killing them before they could be judged, using the blunt side of their weapons or knocking them down with their weapons’ hafts after crushing their hasty shielding.

  Unfortunately for the defending army, the necromancer’s shields of death and rays of necrotic energy against emberborn were poorly chosen. Deathly energy only fed them, necrotic energy washing over their undead flesh like water off a duck’s back. Their polearm’s ends were brought about to knock them down from their mounts, and they were disabled quickly.

  Morwen had heard that before Tartarus and the Framework arrived, many of the enemies the people of Morvalis faced were monsters filled with deathly energy–specters, zombified beasts, or just general monster dangers. It seemed that they let the legion handle the more physical beings, while they attacked their spirits and stunned them with their various magics.

  Since the Church of Mortem had unified their world, their undead legions had not really fought one another. That they weren’t ready to face an undead army with their legion unable to assist was not surprising.

  The cardinal retrieved an artifact of some kind from his robes, but Morwen and her husband were ready for this, having channeled much of their mana in preparation. Bedwyr’s war scythe, covered in cold flame, made a cruel arc for the man’s arm.

  A dark, malevolent barrier sprung out around him, the scythe clashing and sending cracks rippling through it. Then Morwen brought her staff to bear. A beam of cold and death pierced through and covered the man’s arm, causing him to scream out in pain as his entire side was encased in ice, and his flesh underneath eroded with deathly energies before he could activate the artifact. His arm, along with the item, was encased in cold before Bedwyr brought his war scythe back around to cleave it off.

  Cardinal Arivel shouted in pain. “No! Just how… How could you risk our captives?”

  Morwen laughed. “Didn’t you know? Arawn is a true lord of the underworld, and while it may take some time, we could have merely revived them if you succeeded in slaying them. The moment our domain finished spreading, these people were no longer at risk–though, they are a bit uncomfortable.”

  Some Servants of Arawn were already extracting some of the captives, along with the beastkin and others who came along in their force. The domain would eventually kill Zeroeth Tier humans in a matter of minutes, so they needed to hurry and retrieve them.

  They also nabbed the few that threw down their staves and relinquished their energy, though Morwen got the feeling they were, once again, small fry and wouldn’t know anything useful. Their lobes lacked adornments, and their horses were burdened with supplies.

  Morwen grinned. “So now, you’ll pay for your crimes. But first, what was it you were trying to do, anyway? Sacrifice these people to this… True Mortem?”

  The cardinal ignored her question. “How is it that…your will is so strong? I should have been able to direct the legion!”

  She shook her head, her gaze filled with derision. “You fail to understand death, the very Mortem you worship. You spouted nonsense about these people being unfaithful, but you were the one who went against your own god’s faith, betraying the people you’d sworn to protect. The spirits of the dead cling onto their egos and memories within the bones, with the sole purpose of protecting their descendants. And yet you foolishly order them to slay them? We needn’t overwrite your will; we must only protect theirs.”

  Bedwyr’s war scythe now cut into the man’s remaining arm, causing him to scream out in pain once more. “Now, tell us the goals of your church, or suffer.”

  The cardinal sneered in response. “I’ll tell you nothing. You think you’ve won, but soon the world will be transformed in Mortem’s image! You–”

  Morwen sighed and froze the man’s mouth, ending his foolish tirade. “Very well. I have ways of making you talk.” Retrieving her soul lantern, she got down from her husband’s mount and stood in front of the man’s soon-to-be corpse and waited.

  Her priestesses continued to focus their faith energy as they channeled more mana into the spell. They had to cover nearly a hundred betrayers, so it required quite a bit of energy.

  “Church of Mortem, hear me. You have betrayed your sacred charge, listening to a voice from beyond the stars. I warned you of the Shadows of Tir Na Nog already. But there is another option. If you feel remorse for your wrongdoings and seek penitence in your heart–a desire to make things right–you may serve Arawn, a true lord of the underworld, in protecting your immortal legions, the living, and more. We will rescue this world and protect the people of Morvalis, and even help protect your precious Mortem. You have my word in this.”

  Bedwyr added, “You have sinned, and you must repent. Betrayal cannot be forgiven with mere words. Free your hearts and your minds, and prepare for the Lord of Annwyn's judgment.”

  Giant magic circles spread out above them, the grand spell eventually released. A large apparition of Arawn grew from the ground. The ruler of the underworld, dressed in his royal robes and holding his holy scales appeared, ready to judge those present. The apparition towered over all present with his stag skull mask.

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  The scales tilted as they were judged, and deathly energy was pumped into the Morvalis humans until their bodies expired. They were then dragged into the underworld or golden hexagons of the Framework wrapped around their body and soul, initiating them as Servants of Arawn.

  Those who repented for their sins against their people were reborn as a Servant of Arawn, ready to serve and earn their penitence. Morwen latched onto the cardinal’s spirit and drew it into the lantern, trapping it in a world of torment and under her control.

  The soul lantern flickered as Cardinal Arivel’s spirit was drawn within. The light inside churned violently, shadows tearing across its inner glass like storm clouds.

  Morwen narrowed her eyes and pressed her will against it. “Cardinal Arivel. Speak. Tell us the church’s plans. Where were you taking the captives?”

  At first, there was only distortion–fragments of sound, like whispers layered atop one another. Then a voice forced its way through. “…we were chosen…we were promised…”

  The lantern pulsed, and for a moment his face formed against the inner surface–elongated, fractured, eyes too many and not aligned.

  Morwen’s grip tightened on her staff. “Promised what?”

  “To ascend. To endure. To–” His voice broke apart, splitting into overlapping echoes. “retain the self. To become as He is.”

  “He?” Morwen asked evenly.

  The shadows recoiled as if burned. “No name,” he hissed suddenly, lucid for a heartbeat. “No form. Only Will. We were to become vessels. The convergence was almost complete. The monoliths–” The light inside convulsed. A ripple passed through his spirit, and his expression twisted in agony.

  “It is still watching,” he gasped. “Through us. Through–” The lantern went violently dark, then flared again, but the cardinal’s features were no longer coherent. His thoughts collapsed into babble. “…unworthy…faithless…feed it…feed the stillness…”

  Morwen withdrew slightly, studying the distortion.

  Bedwyr stepped closer. “That is not simple fanaticism.”

  “No,” she agreed quietly. “Something has been gnawing at him.” She pressed once more. “Where is the convergence point?”

  For a moment, a mountain silhouette flashed in the lantern’s depths. Black stone hollowed within, veins of pale light threading toward a central abyss. Then the image shattered.

  Arivel’s spirit began laughing–high, brittle, and broken. “You are too late. It hungers.”

  The laughter dissolved into incoherent murmuring. Morwen exhaled slowly and lowered the lantern. “Hm. His mind isn’t quite intact. I did not err. The corruption, likely from his tainted artifacts, reached too deep.”

  Bedwyr stared at the lantern, lost in thought for a moment. “Unfortunate. Perhaps that corruption wounded his spirit a little too much. But there appears to be another option this time.”

  Morwen turned to look at their new Servants of Arawn and noticed what Bedwyr was getting at. There was a fair number of them; many of these people were repentant. While many of them stared into space vacantly, awaiting orders, there were a few who appeared to be a bit more lucid, examining their new situation.

  Morwen approached a man with short black hair, his lightly adorned gray robes fastened with a rope belt.

  “Hello there. May I have your name, awakened?”

  “Stenos…my liege. How should I address–”

  “Worry not about this, as we are all mere servants of the Lord of Annwyn. I am Morwen. I understand your new existence may take some time to get used to, but time is of the essence. Can you tell me what this man was planning on doing? It is important that we get to the bottom of the betrayer’s plots so that we can save more of the living and this world.”

  Stenos was taken aback. “I’m…not entirely sure. We were bringing many people to the necropolis.”

  “Necropolis? Where is it located? Show me.”

  She projected a map in front of him using a managram, surprising the man. But he quickly adapted, pointing at a mountain far away from most civilization. It was nearly central to the continent, but with how most cities were near rivers, lakes, and the ocean, that put it quite far from any major city.

  Morwen attempted to update Valtor immediately but found that communication was restricted. With the enemy removing the array flag, that made a bit of sense, but her people had already replaced the lost flag. It appeared there was no connection to the HQ available–this meant that other flags had been removed along the chain, and perhaps new Rifts had opened and changed the territory control.

  “We’ll need to move. I’m not worried about any native armies, but Tartarus may be opening more Rifts even now to slow us down. Let’s go.”

  Stenos looked to the undead soldiers. “What about the legion?”

  “What about them? In this normal valley, without enough death energy sustaining them by one of your clergy, their spirits will return to the world within but a few hours. Where they belong.”

  “You’re just…going to leave them here? Don’t you want to use them to fight the enemy?”

  “To fight? These warriors have earned their rest. To force them into another fight goes against the nature of the dead. Can’t you feel it? Many of them, their spirits suffer even now.”

  Stenos grimaced, looking at several skeletons that were falling apart. “I… know that you’re right, though many of my people deny it. But surely some of them wish to continue fighting for the world, to protect their descendants in this dire time? This is not wrong, is it?”

  Morwen sighed. So much for expedience. “It is not. Very well. We shall release those who seek to rest, and we’ll do what we can to guide those who remain.” She turned to her husband. “We’ll need to send the scouts away and attempt to repair the flag array network.”

  Bedwyr nodded. “It will be done.”

  Morwen and her priestesses went through the canyon and released the vast majority of the legion, allowing their spirits to rest. It was less than ten percent of the legion that wished to remain, and so they guided them onto the various airships they had prepared.

  She was surprised at how much of their spirits had gone. The Church of Mortem had abused their unliving soldiers, using them for decades long past when their minds were still coherent, to the point where they were starting to fracture to little more than a will. It was only a matter of time before they went insane and started killing anyone near.

  They needed to get those that remained to a Nexus Node. While Arawn’s ritual magic for converting betrayers would initiate them into the Framework, it only worked in those specific circumstances. She would rather not use them in battle if it fed the enemy.

  Bedwyr said over their voice comms, “Many Rifts have opened while we were in the canyon, and many of the native monsters have moved in toward our positions from Tartarus’s machinations. If we wish to replace those Array Flags, we’ll have several fights on our hands.”

  She knew it. But perhaps it was for the better. These soldiers were nearly as effective as their Servants of Arawn, especially with her people guiding them properly. They took off in their airships, heading toward the nearby Rifts to begin clearing them and placing array flags. Morwen was standing on the deck with several of the new Church of Mortem clergy as they traveled.

  Stenos said to her, “Thank you for doing that; I understand it took away some valuable time.”

  Morwen shook her head. “It was worth it to give these spirits a chance to resolve their unfinished business so they can be laid to rest properly. Tell me more about what has been happening these last few years.”

  “A few years ago… the church started to shift. Why exactly it shifted, I was not privy to at the time. But there had been talks that Mortem was speaking to us. In a more…direct manner.”

  “I see. When was the first time you saw one of these?” Morwen retrieved the token they extracted from the cardinal.

  “That…token. A few of our clergy wore it on a belt on their waist, and around that same time. They did say through it, they could hear the voice of our god better…”

  “It was likely the source of the changes. You never heard the voice yourself and don’t know where they came from?”

  “No. Only the upper echelon, our cardinals and bishop, have heard the voice directly. They would share what they chose to share, though most of what they shared was about this…True Mortem and his changes to our doctrine.”

  “All the bishops, then? I had met one when we arrived on this world. This is a surprise.”

  “As far as I know, much of the church listens to the voice, or at the very least, follows its orders now. Ever since the grand bishop accepted the token’s voice as Mortem’s.”

  “I see. The cardinal who led you had one. What were you doing before your leader brought you to the canyon, and we caught your group?”

  “We were…supposed to find and remove your people’s array flags, and we were altering the monoliths. Directing the energy to the one true Mortem, they said.”

  “What of the captives?”

  Stenos grimaced. “They… we started collecting them recently. The cardinal said they were unfaithful and working for the enemy, but…there was little evidence. The cardinal showed some odd idols and said they were worshiping them, but the people denied it. He said that Mortem had judged them and to bring them to the necropolis. We don’t…see what happens to them then.”

  Morwen changed her line of questioning. “What do you think they were directing the monoliths to? You must not think it was Mortem.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “You believed me. You felt remorse for your betrayal of your people, your world, and you sought to make things right. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been reborn as a Servant of Arawn. What made you feel remorse? It sounds like you were only following orders, that you had no idea what was going on.”

  “I didn’t know what their goals were. But I knew it was wrong.” He sighed, then continued. “What we were doing went against both the living and the unliving we venerated. You see, the monoliths were created to regulate the deathly mana and protect the living, as well as entomb the dead and monitor for awakened ancestors. We started making changes to them, and…” The man grimaced, hesitating as he remembered.

  “The first recalibration I performed… it increased coherence in the legion by eleven percent. We celebrated. Three weeks later, a farming village reported spectral incursions, and dozens died. We were told it was a coincidence. I signed the report myself.”

  “I see. But it got worse.”

  Stenos nodded, sighing sadly. “It was the first of many. Ghosts and monsters ravaged villages. So many died, and… the church just looked the other way. Covered it up. Recently though, they became much more overt. Pushing this new narrative that they were dying because of their lack of faith.”

  “The opposite of what the church promised to do. It seems like there should be a lot more dissenters among your clergy. But they appeared quite unified when I visited.”

  “It… is not so simple. They first sought those that were frustrated with how things were. Like me, to carry out some of the smaller changes in secret first. And there were positive results quickly–more faithful awakening, stronger legionnaires. They got a foothold in the church and moved to the top, promising things we all were hoping for. The holy legion…many of us saw them in a sorry state before. We wished better for our ancestors.”

  “Sorry state? Ah, yes. For many of them, their sanity was fading away.”

  “Yes. We know that those in the holy legion, their states deteriorate over time, their memories fading away to be nothing more than mindless…monsters, really. Many of us wanted to perform the release rites sooner, but those higher up denied this, stating that they just needed to reach a higher understanding of Mortem. To reach a higher faith, like the voice told them.”

  “Hm. They seek to control the state of the dead, to go against its true nature. So the results improved?”

  “That’s right. The hidden knowledge the voice offered made them more powerful, and they were able to become more successful at creating new legionnaires that would keep more memories. Some of the mausoleums had more awakenings as well, which was easy to spin as a positive thing with them hiding the bad things. When the holy legion marches, people are reassured.”

  Morwen frowned. “Where are these superior legions kept? We have not seen anything worthy of this description.”

  “I’m not…sure. I suppose the best guess is the necropolis.”

  “What is it? That place.”

  “It’s…ruins from our ancient past. A failed kingdom that placed itself in an area of the greatest amount of death energy in this world. It is filled with living corpses, specters, and monsters alike. I don’t… know why the church is more active there, and they refuse to answer when asked. We had long since blocked the area off because nothing that enters there can live.”

  “I see. Thank you for the information. I do believe we have our target now, aside from the Rifts.”

  Stenos looked at his hands and looked back to his compatriots. “Why am I…like this? My memories, I still have them. The others are not this way.”

  Morwen smiled at him. “You’ve been blessed by Arawn’s wisdom to retain much. The others remember, but their personality is asleep as if a fog is clouding their minds. Often, the fog will lift as time goes on.”

  “The voice. They said that it had promised this, to continue living and serving forever, even in death. And that our immortals would remain strong through the ages.”

  Morwen’s expression did not change. “It promised you and the legion exemption from the cycle. That is always a lie.”

  “It wasn’t just lack of knowledge?”

  “The nature of the unliving seeks to return to the stillness eventually. Of course, one might master techniques that go against the nature of death and preserve their minds for longer, but any of these methods have consequences. Certainly, protecting life is a noble cause, and there are ways that your necromancers could have improved things safely. However, total control over the spirits of the unliving should not be what they seek–only the Divine can manage this. This is simply grandiose delusions of power.”

  “I see. It sounds like we could have learned much from you, but we sided with the voice. They are pretty jealous of you, you know. They wanted to be like you. Able to continue learning, continue serving in death. The voice…it promised what many of us wanted.”

  Morwen laughed at that notion. “To learn, you say? Certainly, I can know things I likely did not know while I was alive in my first life, and some might consider that learning. But it is not the same.”

  “How is it…different? Isn’t that the definition?”

  “Knowledge can accumulate,” Morwen said. “Growth is another matter. The unliving do not change in the way the living do. Do not desire as the living do. We refine what we were. We do not become something new.”

  Stenos frowned. “You say you lack desire, but you seem quite zealous in your service of Arawn.”

  Morwen smiled. “You’re right. Perhaps, in my first life, I was zealous about something as well. The unliving are often shadows of their previous lives, wanting the same things, as if by habit alone. It is the dead’s purpose to remember what the living forget.”

  “But… if you don’t remember your first life, how are you keeping the memory?”

  “The dead cannot help it. Our will, our desire, is evidence enough that it is from our first life. It’s the same among all of us emberborn. We awakened on our homeworld the way we were and with no history aligned to our presence, and we were ostracized for our unliving nature. It was as if we were reborn across the cosmos with this sacred duty. To serve the righteous path, a wish to maintain balance and order. We defended our world and sought a place to belong, and our lord promised it to us when he found us.”

  “How…strange. And your lord lived up to that promise?”

  Morwen smiled. “He’s your lord now too. And of course. Highlands is the home of Hearthtribe, and we are welcome there–treated like long-lost brethren. It has become our true home, a place where we return to the stillness as we await carrying out our sacred purpose.”

  “Do you think you will ever remember? Your past.”

  Morwen frowned and searched herself. Since they had been welcomed to Highlands and founded their home in the North, they had felt at peace and partially fulfilled. There was something beneath the surface of her mind, a will that remained unfulfilled–an unfinished business. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was closer now.

  “I think so, but I am not worried about it at this time. I believe I will fulfill my purpose in the service of the Lord of Annwyn and Baron Hart, as we protect the balance of worlds against this great evil that is Tartarus. It is a noble task, is it not? I must find more believers to help us succeed in these tasks.”

  “I… yes. I do find myself looking forward to righting these wrongs. The church has largely ignored the invaders, only closing Rifts to improve morale. We…lost many immortals doing it.”

  The airship flotilla eventually aligned directly toward a grouping of Rifts. Monsters could be seen in the sparse forest, and soon they would be fighting. She signaled her people to prepare for battle, and the airships began shifting their formation. Ballistas were prepared, and magic circles were being charged.

  Stenos let out a breath. “Oh my. So many Rifts and monsters here already now. What is happening?”

  “Tartarus. It is trying to assist the Church of Mortem with its betrayal plots. But worry not. This much can be managed.”

  “You have a formidable army within these airships of yours. But this still seems like a difficult challenge.”

  “We have a special tool. Those Array Flags act like your monoliths. Now that we know they are a part of their betrayal plot, there’s no reason for us to hold back. We might as well drain the energy they require for our purposes.” She revealed the mana font and triggered the activation of the flag network. Mana began to stream toward it, the hearth igniting a bluish green, cold, flickering flame of death and cold.

  Stenos frowned at it. “I feel a little bit of death mana, but it’s not all that significant. Some cold mana too. Where’s that coming from?”

  Morwen frowned at it. “Perhaps Rookard made some changes. And we’re still moving. The font will become more than ten times as effective once we stop.”

  Stenos’s eyes widened. “That much? How! You mean your little flags are superior to our monoliths?”

  Morwen smirked. “I don’t think your technology is vastly inferior in relation to death; your people were highly specialized, after all. Your monoliths were just crudely placed, often missing the leylines by as much as miles. The effect is significant.”

  Stenos groaned, palming his face. “I guess… our desire for easy access to enter the dead, monitor them, and visit them on pilgrimages backfired.”

  “Now watch. You didn’t get to see it before, but now you will witness the true strength of Hearthtribe. We fear no number of monsters, living or dead.”

  They had to restore their network, and then they would attempt to make their way over to the necropolis. Hopefully, she’d hear from Rookard soon so that they could team up against this thing that hungers.