Chapter 59

I was running through the forest when a shrill shout tore through the trees to my right. I veered without slowing and found Skem trying to fend off three wargs. He wasn’t doing well. His short spear lay snapped - a piece in each hand - his leg carved open and bleeding freely. He was too small, too hurt - outmatched in every way.

I didn’t stop. My axe carved three long, brutal arcs as I sprinted past. Behind me, the wargs collapsed into the snow, blood steaming in the cold.

Another gasp of pain pulled me off course again. Four wargs this time, circling two goblins. Four more swings. Four bodies dropped, red spreading across white.

I needed to get home - but I couldn’t leave the goblins like this. And even if I made it back to the crossroads, there was no guarantee Seth would be there to take me back. If something was wrong, he’d already be charging toward it, trying to fix everything himself.

Which left me here. With them.

Eight goblins had gone out to hunt today. I’d saved three.

I had to find the rest.

My legs sped me across the ground, lungs pumping hard but steady. The forest blurred as I crashed through brush and snow.

I came upon Lok just as two wargs tore into him. My axe slammed down, killing them both - but Lok was already gone. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

I cut down the wargs attacking two more goblins, then found Vor with his leg ripped open and bleeding badly. Moget was nowhere. I shouted his name, listened, ran - nothing.

Another scream. Skem again, surrounded by fresh wargs.

“To the crossroads!” I bellowed as I charged in, my axe a blur of steel and fury. I scooped Skem up under one arm and ran for the road, shouting it again and again. “To the crossroads!”

Goblins burst from the forest, nearly all of them pursued by the huge wolf-things. I dropped Skem onto the road and slammed into the nearest pack, my axe singing as it bit through flesh and bone.

I plowed through the wargs chasing Krel. Rask went down hard and three were on him in a heartbeat. I tore into the ones hounding Drak and Perni. Another warg bowled Vor over and sank its teeth into his shoulder - my axe took its head clean off.

At last, the wargs broke and fled back into the trees.

I gathered the survivors with shaking hands. Lok and Rask were dead. Moget was still missing - I didn’t know if he was hiding, hurt, or already gone. I wanted to go back for him. But I couldn’t leave the others bleeding in the snow.

I called his name one last time. No answer.

So I stayed.

I bound wounds as best I could, hands clumsy with cold and blood, praying they’d hold on until Seth returned - and wishing, fiercely, that Mirri were here to make sure they did.

* * *

I went back to retrieve the hunting party and found the goblins in a dire state. Weapons lay shattered in the snow. Goblins were wrapped in blood soaked bandages. Several of them were ****, others barely clinging to awareness. I didn’t waste time asking questions. I gathered them up and brought them back to Northwatch Keep as fast as I could.

Once they were inside, I went straight for Grams and brought her back to help tend the wounded. While the two healers worked - hands moving with practiced urgency - I pulled Ashlara aside and asked what had happened.

She told me about Chamberlin. About the wargs.

None of it sat right.

She admitted the wargs had been different this time - organized, coordinated, almost intelligent. But Chamberlin bothered me more. She’d told me before that he was her mentor, a father figure. That he’d vanished without warning. And now this was the second time he’d surfaced at the center of something violent. Twice might still be coincidence - but it didn’t feel like it.

Brand had to be involved. Somehow. I just couldn’t see the shape of his move.

The first time, he’d separated the others and struck at them - but not me. If I was his target, that should’ve been his best chance. Why didn’t he take it? Was he trying to hurt me by hurting the people I loved first? That didn’t make sense either. I didn’t even know the man. Why make it personal?

And this time - why the goblins?

Ashlara clearly hadn’t been the target. Wargs were no threat to her. Hell, at this point, they weren’t much of a threat to me either. It felt less like an **** and more like a distraction. Like he was trying to keep her busy.

But for what?

She’d have been hunting all day regardless. Unless there was something out there - something in that area - he didn’t want her stumbling across. Something she might’ve already come close to without realizing it.

Once Mirri and Grams had done everything they could for the injured goblins, we gathered to talk. After Serah, Mirri, and Grams were brought up to speed, Mirri dropped a bomb on us - she’d had a vision of my ****. A tear in reality, some kind of breach, ripping me apart.

Grams reminded us it was only a possible future.

That didn’t make me feel any better.

Mirri wanted to go find it. Close it. And she didn’t want me anywhere near it. Not that I was eager to volunteer, but I didn’t like the idea of her going alone either.

Serah offered to go with her. Grams volunteered to stay with the children. I suggested Ashlara go too - the goblins weren’t hunting again anytime soon after today, and I wanted muscle along in case things went sideways. I’d take Grams and the kids to my demesne to keep them safe, and I’d stay at the keep afterward in case anything else blew up.

With that settled, I took the goblins and Grams back to Reedwatch for the night.

* * *

Sleep eluded me.

I lay there for an hour, boxed in by the quiet, steady breaths of Mirri, Ashlara, and Serah. Eventually I gave up and eased myself out of bed. Ashlara stirred, half-awake, but I soothed her with a soft kiss until she settled again.

I pulled on a pair of pants and slipped from the room.

The hardwood floor was cold beneath my feet, though I barely felt it. At this point, the cold didn’t have much claim on me anymore. I crossed the balcony that ringed the upper floor, descended the stairs, and stepped out into the bailey.

Scattered clouds drifted across the western sky, glowing a pale green in the moonlight. The moon and its children hung high and bright, illuminating the snowy ground. To the east, blue and red smears stained the horizon, low and vivid against the night.

I stopped and took it in. The cold breeze brushed my bare chest, peaceful in a way that clashed hard with the chaos in my head.

What was Brand’s play? Would he strike at the girls while they hunted for the rift? If Mirri’s vision ended with my ****, could I dodge it? Was it as simple as staying away from the breach? Or not stepping into it? And why would I ever do that in the first place?

“Nice night,” a voice said behind me.

I turned.

A woman stood there, formed of pale light, wearing a skirt of translucent silks in layered shades of gray. Her hair was dark as midnight at the roots, fading to pure white at the tips as it spilled over her shoulders and down across her breasts. Her eyes glowed like lanterns as she gazed up at the stars, her expression distant and thoughtful.

“Lunythera,” I said - half in greeting, half in acknowledgment.

“Seth Grimm,” she replied with a smirk, her eyes flicking to me. “No fancy title.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, returning my gaze to the sky.

“I can’t visit my favorite Nomad?” she said lightly.

I scoffed. “Apparently you have a type.”

“Oh?” she said, amused.

“Mirri’s great-grandfather was a Nomad,” I said. “I hear you knew him.”

Her expression softened. “James,” she said quietly, smiling. “He married a goblin, if I remember right.”

I nodded.

“Small world,” she said, flat and casual.

“Is it?” I asked.

She glanced at me. “Isn’t that something people from your world say?”

“It is,” I said. “Usually for coincidences. I find it hard to believe you didn’t have a hand in both our arrivals.”

“What makes you think that?” she asked.

“You knew both of us,” I said. “And you’re the only one who seems to know anything about Earth. If you know that phrase, then you know the wars we fight. Which begs the question - why did you go along with it?”

“Who says I did?” she replied.

I turned to face her fully. “Cut the crap,” I said, my voice hard. “You may not have pushed for my ****, but you didn’t stop it. And like the others, you didn’t even attempt to let me know what was going on. So I’ll ask again - what do you want?”

She smiled, sad and distant, and turned her eyes back to the sky. “I knew you’d find it eventually.”

“Find what?” I asked.

“Your courage.” She exhaled slowly. “I watched you fold under the slightest pressure. Living in fear. Making yourself small. Aurelion called it cowardice. But I saw something else - a spark, waiting for someone to blow on it. And I did.”

I felt my jaw tighten as she continued.

“I’m sure you’ve wondered,” she said. “How did you become a god? Where’s the association? The swarm?” She looked at me again, her golden eyes searching. “I’ll tell you a secret. Aurelion says we made you. We didn’t.”

My stomach twisted.

“You were already swarming when I found you,” she said softly. “He didn’t recognize it. He thought that giving you Faith is what made you ascend, but all it did was hasten the inevitable. You would’ve done it yourself, given time.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. Had the High Witan lied? Or was Lunythera doing it now?

“All those thoughts,” she said. “The fear. The guilt. The weight you carried.” Her eyes flickered like candle flames. “It wasn’t just yours. You were collecting it. Internalizing it. Making it yours.”

She met my gaze.

“That was your swarm.”

* * *

I reeled.

Was this… was I…

I shut my eyes and drew in a slow, steadying breath. When I let it out, the air spilled from my lungs in a pale cloud, ghosting away into the cold.

“Let’s assume you’re telling the truth,” I said at last. “Why tell me? And why now?”

She turned to me, amusement flickering in the candlelight of her eyes. “War is coming,” she whispered. “The Witan believes you will preserve the peace. You will not. You will plunge this world into conflict. Mortals will die. Gods will fall. And every ‘contingency’ the Witan so carefully arranged will collapse.”

She tilted her head. “Why am I telling you this?” Her smile sharpened. “My reasons are purely mercenary - because I want something. When the time comes, I want you to spare me. I want to survive the purge. In return, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Her gaze searched mine, unblinking.

“What makes you so sure I’m going to start a war?” The words burst out before I could stop them.

“Start a war?” She shook her head, almost fondly. “No. You will end it.”

“Fine,” I snapped. “How do you know I’ll end it?”

“I am no seer,” she said, smiling. “But I am the Keeper of the Night Roads. The Shepherd of Dreams. I have seen the dreams of the seers.” Her eyes gleamed. “That is enough.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then you’ve seen Mirri’s vision. You know I die.”

She laughed - light, amused, and unsettling. “We all die,” she said. “But you will not be dissolved by the Interstitium. That vision is a lie, woven by Brand, with power stolen from Yssene.”

“What’s his plan?” I asked.

“Power,” she said simply. “Power he will never attain.”

I scoffed. “Then why all this? Splitting us up. Attacking the goblins. Stirring chaos without finishing the job?”

She looked back to the stars. “My time is short.” Then her eyes returned to me, suddenly intent. “Knowledge is power, and his ignorance guides him. Use it. Keep the truth to yourself. He is stronger than you - but his defeat at your hands is assured, so long as you-”

The moon slipped behind a cloud. The light dimmed.

Lunythera vanished mid-sentence.