The dreamer’s tent was built within the root system of a deep mangrove. Gaya led Krav and Greenblatt down through a flap of hide that surrounded the gnarled wood. Immediately, they were hit with the intoxicating smell of mock root.

  They had to leave Ulrich behind. Something about being blighted.

  “He’s not blighted. He’s just fat,” Krav said. He was feeling the soft pelt that wrapped the roots. As the effects of mock root took hold, the things he touched seemed to have their physical properties exaggerated. The skin of this wall probably felt like aged leather, but the tiny hairs that still clung to it warmed Krav’s palms like a quilt. Whatever kind of mock root this was, it was potent.

  “Not him,” Gaya said. “You two. You have come into contact with a powerful substance. One that we’ve had a hand in preserving. It’s unknown how it ever got into the hands of wastelanders, but to the people of paradise, we know it as god blight.”

  Krav had never heard that term, but Greenblatt had. They must have removed his goggles and checked his eyes while he was out cold. Suddenly, the warlord felt very unsafe in their company.

  “He just contracted it,” Greenblatt said. “He doesn’t know what that means.”

  Gaya looked at the boy, then took him by the hand. Her strong arms were tender now, and she watched him with something like veneration. “The high priestess can explain it much better than I can. Follow me.”

  Her skin was like a rosy balm as she felt at his hands. The topic of god blight sounded eerily foreboding, but there was only one thing on the boy’s mind. “Are we going to smoke some of that mock root?”

  They went deeper into the root system. Armed guards with spears and red-faced masks stood at attention as they passed. Their hidden eyes watched the strangers with keen disdain. Greenblatt knew what they were thinking. This was a holy site, one common among the desert cults of the wasteland. Gaya, whatever authority she had, was bringing outsiders deep into their rituals.

  He felt unwelcome, but Krav seemed immune to the concept of shame. The boy tapped Gaya on the arm. “What’s with the masks? Seems like a pain in the ass to fight in.”

  “We aren’t the kind of warriors you’re accustomed to. I would admit it isn’t a garb meant for combat with other people, but deep in the jungle we come across many great beasts. If we appear less human, they think twice about their odds of feasting on us.”

  Deeper still in the earth, the heat of the valley melted away. The soil walls of the dreamer’s tent stank of mildew, but it was a welcome, earthy smell to the newcomers. There was no other scent like it in the valley. Krav felt the wet dirt of the walls, and their soft composure melted in his hands. Greenblatt scolded him on his etiquette, but Krav just rubbed the substance between his fingers and smiled.

  At the very bottom of the root system was an actual tent. It was in the middle of a shallow pool of water, and the entrance was flanked by two of the red-faced, shaggy-haired guards. The material of the tent wasn’t animal skins like the rest of the place seemed to be composed of. Instead, it was an old military tent from an age long since passed. The green burlap had black lettering on it, but it was fading away. The only word Krav and Greenblatt could make out was “Planeteers” and a series of unintelligible numbers.

  Something within the pool lit the bottom of the root system in a bright blue. It shimmered beneath the stones and made it look much deeper than it was. Gaya stepped in, and the feathers around her ankles didn’t reach the small tides. As she approached, she drew back the tent’s flap and held it open for Greenblatt and Krav.

  “Be respectful. The high priestess is patient, but her guard is not.”

  “Best behavior,” Greenblatt promised. The two of them stepped in, and as the flap fell behind them, they were shocked by the sight of the priestess.

  She was only a little girl. By Krav’s estimate, perhaps twelve or thirteen. She didn’t wear a formal headdress or any other mark of authority the two had become accustomed to seeing. Instead, she had on a brilliant white gown that stretched past her feet and into the water. Her back was to them, and fine blonde hair flowed down her back.

  Flowers in a planter box were arranged next to her, and she snipped away two. One a red bulb, the other a wilting white flower. She turned and offered them a smile beneath her black crusted eyes.

  “Shit…” Greenblatt said. Krav followed his lead, pulling his axe from his waist.

  “No need to be frightened. I won’t become a witch for a few more moon cycles. Please sit. These are for you.”

  She offered the bulb to Krav and the flower to Greenblatt.

  “Welcome to my home, Krav. And a welcome to you as well, Albert.”

  Krav raised an eyebrow. “How do you know who we are?”

  “Because you’re both blighted. Or as you call it where you’re from, wasting.”

  Krav laughed and replaced his axe in his belt, trading it instead for Rufus. “No, no, Rufus is wasting. You got your info wrong.”

  She simply smiled at him. It was sympathetic, and she demonstrated that she was much wiser beyond her years. “You came into contact with a laser beam in the Pit. The god blight, shale as you call it, was used to power that beam. I’m sorry, Krav. But now you walk the same path as Albert and I.”

  Greenblatt looked between the two of them. He would have thought she was older than him if she wasn’t standing right there as a young girl. The priestess took Krav’s hands and gently forced his fingers to his eyes. “You can feel it. The skin around the eyes is dry. By now, you’ve probably already lost part of your mind. It’s still early though. You will be ok until you’ve progressed to Rufus’s state.” The priestess grabbed the skull and passed a thumb over his blackened, crystalline eyes.

  “How… how do you know all of this?” Krav asked, stunned.

  The priestess looked between Krav and Greenblatt. The warlord wondered whether she could actually see them or not.

  “I am the high priestess. I am the conduit of the soul. For whoever should walk the path, whoever should be a spirit guide, should also then fall under my gaze. I am the seer of sights, the cobblestone beneath your stride, the reincarnation of the Goddess Ventra. My name is Dahlia, and I have kept an eye on you long before this body was born.”

  Dahlia told them all about the wonders of her people over the smoldering ashes of mock root. The disciples were an ancient people who lived among the jungle since it sprouted its first blade of grass. Back then, they were guardians of what would become to be known as the Emerald Expanse.

  In those days, it was named that because it was a patch of desert that gleamed with a green hue in the sunlight. After the appearance of the twin suns, however, that green hue disappeared into their hellish glare, hiding itself away from the rest of the wasteland.

  They had an abundant amount of the god blight, however. It was kept safe by the priestesses, being passed down throughout the generations. It was tantamount that they had the substance, because without it, there could be no more chain of priestesses. Each one had to be blighted in order to unlock their potential and accept Goddess Ventra into their vessel.

  Krav could see their stories unfold in the mock root smoke. Their twisting shapes showed an endless line of reincarnated priestesses, each one with their eyes hollowed out by years of wasting. None of them looked older than him.

  Dahlia pinched an orange powder and threw it into the fire. There was a flash of green, the smoke thickened, and she continued.

  “Our tribe has only ever produced women. It’s a concession we made when we were offered the Goddess’s blessings. Often, those who walk the path of the seer are called here on pilgrimage. We trade our understandings of the veil of the soul for a chance to repopulate. It has been that way for ages… until he came along.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Jackmaw Yapyap was the first male conceived by the Disciples. An eternity of our clan’s pent up masculine energies was born into this world with him. We thought he was a gift from the Goddess. We were going to raise him to be a prophet king, someone to reunite this land and bring true peace to it, but all we did was create a spoiled monster.”

  The smoke that was coming from the mock root made Krav’s head hurt and his throat dry. The wispy visions within the tangling smoke became clearer now. He could see the shape of a small boy being doted on by a conclave of women. Soon, he grew until he was at their height. The women tried to comfort his tantrums with soft hands, but he lashed out, dissipating their hazy forms.

  “He grew too big too quickly. Soon our warriors couldn’t control him. There was one thing Jackmaw Yapyap wanted in this world more than anything, and the high priestess of his time told him he couldn’t have it. He wanted the power granted by the Emerald Expanse.”

  The boy in the smoke was pleading with another figure, one who looked like she was glowing with a mystifying blue light. Black eyes were the only feature Krav could make out. She told him something he didn’t want to hear, and the boy became a black cloud that enveloped her. Soon, her blue light faded.

  “When she denied him, he lashed out and killed her. It wasn’t long after that our warriors tracked him to the edge of the Emerald Expanse. They battled him, but their hearts weren’t able to kill him, and his was more than willing. They managed to subdue him, but only after losing five. It was decided that he would be brought out to the desert and killed.”

  “Why?” Krav cut her off.

  “Why what?”

  “Why not just cut his head off while you had him at your mercy? You took him into the desert to do it, and he clearly fucking survived.”

  The girl smiled. “The tribe didn’t yet have a replacement high priestess, and therefore our spiritual leadership was lacking. It was decided that he was unfit to be put to rest in the sacred jungle. The desert is a profane place, and in their anger, they decided to symbolically execute him there.

  “Unfortunately, he had one advocate. His own mother offered herself in his stead, and moved by her love, the Disciples decided to leave him in the desert to succumb to the elements. But fate has a way of punishing our transgressions, even when made with the best intentions.”

  In the smoke, a woman kissed the boy on his head, and a mass of people left him alone. The dark shape of the boy festered and grew, until he had the silhouette of a man Krav recognize. The shape turned, and he saw the perfectly simulated blood-red eyes of Jackmaw Yapyap.

  Krav’s fists shook. Even calmed by the mock root, the image of the red devil caused his blood to boil. He stood and waved away the image, but the eyes remained on him for a moment after they were cast aside. “He has my brother.”

  “Yes,” Dahlia said. She walked across the hot coals and smoldering mock root, her small feet unscarred. “Lenny has grown stronger in his abilities since he was taken by Jackmaw. He has been a powerful sage for some weeks now. I can see the path he walks, and it will easily surpass Rufus’s.”

  A small hand reached for the skull and Krav allowed it. Even though he had been violently high, Rufus had remained eerily quiet, as if out of respect. Dahlia held him in her gentle embrace, stroking the black eyes. “Your master taught both of you well.”

  Krav scoffed. “Rufus didn’t teach me shit. Lenny was the one with all the talent. I’m just the scab head that gets into fights.”

  “Lenny walks the path of the prophet. His spiritual journey will eclipse his master given enough time. As for you, your master placed you on the path of the warrior, and you’ve proven to be more than enough.”

  Something panged in Krav’s chest. He watched Dahlia stroke poor Rufus’s head. There was truth in her words, a truth that made his heart ache for his master. For the longest time, he had assumed he was the idiot third wheel in their group. He couldn’t guide souls. He couldn’t remember anything about the drugs they partook in. For Karma’s sake, he could barely count.

  But Rufus had always had his own ways of encouragement. The master was wise beyond his years, even as a feeble old man. He never allowed Krav to have a weapon deadlier than a common stick because he understood the value of human life. He made Krav stand outside the tent for hours because he understood diligence and patience. He propped Krav up as their protector because he understood responsibility and courage.

  The old man had spent his life teaching Krav to walk that path. It was the boy’s own ignorance that had caused him to stray.

  He knew Rufus could hear him. As his emotions boiled over, he covered his guilt and sadness with anger. “You could’ve made it more obvious that I was supposed to walk a path!”

  “Everyone walks a path!” Rufus’s voice thrummed from the skull, but Dahlia smiled and kept stroking his head to calm him. “You don’t get to live your life without choosing one! The reality is, I was always meant to go first. I just wanted to be sure you two understood your place in this world. I wanted you to be the change the wasteland needed.”

  Krav watched Rufus wordlessly for a long moment. It was never easy for a boy to learn the true feelings of his father figure, be those opinions good or bad. Part of him wanted to smash the skull to bits for being so vague in his teachings. Part of him wanted to hold him tight and apologize.

  Instead, Krav gently took him from Dahlia, and the girl gave him up without protest. Krav returned his master’s skull to his hip. He just felt better there.

  “His words are true,” she said. “We all walk a path, willingly or not. Jackmaw Yapyap has chosen the path of the conqueror, and he will take the wasteland and all within it just to see that path fulfilled. It’s up to you now, Krav. Will you continue down this path, or will you find another for your soul to walk? Your meeting is approaching; I can see it within the threads of fate. You must choose soon.”

  “I’m going to cut that mother fucker’s head off. Path or no path.”

  Dahlia offered him a contented smile. Soon, a warrior of the tribe entered unannounced and stole away the two guests. As Greenblatt was led out, however, he paused and looked at the little girl.

  It was hard to believe it, but he had so many questions for her. Here he was, almost forty and a warlord, and he was thinking this girl was a font of knowledge. It was a humbling experience. By the tilt of her blind head, he could tell she understood.

  “Ask your question, Albert. You’ve been so quiet and kind in our meeting, but you are an important part of this journey as well. Speak.”

  There was a torrent of possible questions. How did she know all of this? What goddess was she talking about? Where can this god blight be found? He landed on one.

  “Who crafted the laser on Talin the Great?”

  “A Black Thumb, one of your own. One who was blighted, at that. She was a talented fabricator that was gifted with true sight from your shale. If you would like to walk her path with me, I would be more than happy to guide your soul.”

  “Keep him,” Krav said, “He’s not much of a fighter without his robots anyways.”

  He left them there and allowed himself to be guided back to the top by Gaya. Greenblatt’s soul could use some guidance. Especially if it meant learning the secrets of the Black Thumb that installed the laser onto Talin the Great. They might need tech like that when it came time to face the Gordo clan.

  And judging by the news amongst the warriors, that time was coming soon. At the top of the root system, there was a pocket of chaos that erupted. The fur clad warrior women were passing gossip of a recent run in with the Gordo clan. As soon as they saw Gaya emerge with a stranger, they descended upon her.

  “Mistress Gaya!” a young woman said. Her tired voice was strained from battle fatigue. Judging by her wounds, she had been one of the survivors. “Mistress Gaya. I have a report.”

  “Speak up then.”

  “Do I have to stay for this? I’m hungry,” Krav complained.

  The warrior woman shot him a glare and snatched him by the arm. “You will if you want to help us deal with those psychopaths,” then back to her subordinate. “I said speak, dammit!”

  The younger girl snapped to attention. “My flock was killed. They’re using technology I’ve never seen before. It’s some sort of handheld device that shoots tiny rocks. I don’t think we’ll be able to overcome them in a head on fight.”

  The last of her words were spoken quietly, as if she was still trying to hide her opinion from her superior. There were a pair of older women covering her in a woven blanket and trying to coax her away from Gaya. They argued that she should rest now and report later, but the girl stayed strong.

  “We can’t fight them!”

  Gaya’s eyes narrowed at the girl. “And yet you live. Tell me how you managed to survive and the others had to die.”

  “I’m the youngest,” the girl said, and she fought back a sob. “Mistress Voya ordered me to retreat with this message.”

  The superior Disciple nodded and looked at Krav. “Any input?”

  “No. Can I eat now?”

  Back down in the dreamer’s tent, Greenblatt communed with the high priestess. More mock root was added to her smoldering pile of ashes, then she spread a pinch of blue dust on the building fire that filled the room with a purple haze. It was warm, and it smelled faintly of sweet grass.

  Albert Ibram Ao Dominus-Greenblatt hadn’t had his path guided in a long time. By his count, it had been four years. Back then, he still had hope that mysticism could help him achieve his goals. Now he understood how childish that belief was. But he was willing to put those opinions behind him and believe again if it could help him understand what that monstrosity in the Pit was.

  Dahlia took a deep breath and inhaled the mock root smoke until it filled her lungs with its sticky scent. She smiled. “This is the veil of the soul. This is where our reality reaches a hand to the other side, the deeper side. You seek a story, not guidance, but with my help, you shall receive both.”

  Greenblatt removed his mask to better breathe in the intoxicant. The girl was blind, he told himself. She wouldn’t recognize him. It took a moment, but eventually his head filled with the smoke, and he found himself high and standing at the barrier of the soul. “I appreciate your time.”

  “It isn’t my time. It’s the time necessary to defeat Jackmaw Yapyap. Are you ready?”

  He nodded, and she began her tale. It was plagued by the roguish nature his clan had come to adopt. By the end of it, he understood the power of the laser beam Talin the Great possessed, and he was glad he left the Black Thumbs behind.

  They didn’t just betray the Pit Lords. They had actively experimented on them. And it was by the order of his lover, Sinestra Mode, that they experimented on their warlord. The Shale had pushed her to places she never would have gone to in a sober state. It had poisoned her mind and granted her foul visions. Visions that she could not ignore in her weakened state. Surrounded by sycophants and madmen, she gave into her demons as easily as an addict gives into his.

  Dahlia left him with a single warning. From one waster to another, she warned that his thoughts were not always his own, and the deeper the disease progressed, the worse it would be. Sinestra had been a witch for a very long time. She was a slave to the shimmering substance. Soon, he would be too.