Chapter 91

I returned with the ferals.

They were soaked in blood and streaked with dirt - wild-eyed and grinning. Somewhere along the way a few had lost teeth. I hadn’t even noticed while we were hunting.

I helped scrub them down while they snapped and grumbled at the water. Once they were clean enough to pass for civilized, I handed them over to Serah for lessons.

I butchered the deer and placed the meat in barrels of brine and spices to start curing.

When Serah finished, I gathered the ferals again.

“Watch,” I told them. I thought it might be good to foster respect for her, not that she needed it. She seemed to be doing pretty well managing them on her own.

Serah stepped forward.

Her transformation rolled over her like a tide - bones lengthening, wings tearing free, scales rippling into place. The air thrummed as her mass expanded, crimson gleaming in the daylight.

The ferals dropped low. Growls rumbled in their throats. Muscles coiled as if they meant to pounce on her.

It was amusing, considering she could have swallowed each one whole.

“Be good,” she told them, her two-toned voice echoing through the bailey. “We will return soon.”

They froze.

I climbed the ridged curve of her neck, settled between warm scales.

Two powerful wingbeats later and we were airborne.

She circled the keep once before angling west. From above, the keep was impressive - strong stone walls, the watch tower reaching skyward. It was equally impressive from the ground, but from the air, it looked untouchable.

Wind rushed past us - cool, not frigid. Serah flew high but below the cloud cover, steady and controlled as always.

Winter was loosening its grip. The snow had melted into brown earth as the miles passed below us in a blur.

Hours later, the Hordes came into view.

Something was wrong.

The orcs were already engaged. Battle raged across the plain. Fire and lightning tore from one side - Arvellian mages - purple and yellow banners snapping in the wind. The spells slammed into green ranks, but the orcs didn’t falter or even slow

They crashed into the smaller Arvellian **** like a living avalanche.

Serah dipped lower.

Carnage. Slaughter. Not battle.

Men fought with wounds that should have killed them. Orcs swung axes with intestines trailing behind them. Arvellian soldiers burned and still pressed forward. Limbs severed. Chests split. Faces melted.

Few fell. They just kept fighting until dead - despite injury.

This wasn’t war. This was slaughter without end.

I directed Serah toward the warlords’ meeting ground.

She landed in the empty camp. It was deserted save for one.

An old orc woman stepped from a tent.

She hunched over a staff, hair painted red and waxed into jagged spikes. Her green-gray skin hung in creases over bone. Pale ritual scars crossed her face. Faded tattoos marked her as shaman. Bone charms clacked at her throat as she approached.

I slid from Serah’s neck and walked forward.

I drove Adhaneth into the ground before me.

Peace. Parley.

“Grath-Vael Seth,” she said.

Little warlord. Not an insult - recognition of authority.

I inclined my head.

“I am Voretta. Shaman of Varnak Sol - the Black Earth Clan.” Her Drath was clipped, hard. “You came as promised, but too late.”

“What happened?”

“The Warlords argued, drew blades against each other. The hordes spilled orc blood.” She tapped her staff once against the earth. “Then the softborn arrived. Warlords set aside their differences to face a common foe. Rage overtook them all.”

“Why would the humans march? They were gathering - not advancing.”

“A band of young hunters left camp.” Her jaw tightened. “Went to the mountains when they should have stayed. Found softborn watching. Spying.”

Her eyes sharpened.

“Madness struck. The hunters slaughtered them.”

She paused.

“They returned, but should have been dead. Rashkai’s guts hung loose - ripped up. He didn’t care. Hethran had a hole in his heart. Walked into camp like he always did.”

A chill crept up my spine.

She fixed me with a steady stare. “The Beast of Battle is dead. My visions say it’s true.”

“Urzan-Brak? That beast of battle?” The name tore out of me. “Dead?”

She nodded once. “The God of carnage is gone. Rage runs free - infects flesh and mind.”

“Shit.” I dragged a hand down my face. “How? Did you see his ****?”

She shook her head. “His War Forge is slag and ruin.” Her gaze did not waver.

“Wait, does that mean he burnt to ****?”

She shrugged.

I exhaled sharply. “Can you stop this? Call the warlords back? Get the warriors under control? I can speak to the queen. Maybe get her to pull her troops back.”

Her grip tightened on her staff. “That’s not in my power. The warlords drown in rage. Even without madness, pride binds them.”

She studied me for a long moment.

“You spoke truth before. The Warlords refused to listen.” Her voice softened, barely. “The gods wage war. Stole Ashlara’s face to kill Hek. And now they lead us to ****.”

Behind us, the battle roared on.

* * *

I stepped to Crownreach with Serah.

She shifted into her human form inside my demesne, and I conjured fresh clothes for her. The last thing we needed was panic before we even opened our mouths.

We arrived in the royal library.

Two guards stood watch where none had stood during my first visit.

“I need to speak with the queen,” I said. “It’s urgent.”

One guard left. The other remained.

We waited. I paced.

Everything had unraveled.

The orcs were supposed to confirm they were being manipulated by the gods. Arvellia had been gathering forces - not marching them north. For the army I’d seen to reach the border that fast meant rapid deployment. The orcs outnumbered them two to one in that battle alone. And Arvellia had reserves.

With Urzan-Brak dead, his Faith would be running wild.

When Caelith died, the world burned for ten years. When Sylira fell, the moon cracked. Serkhalya’s **** froze the world. Solmira’s **** denied the dead their rest.

Voretta called Urzan-Brak the god of carnage.

If fire took ten years to calm… how long would carnage last?

And what was the god of carnage doing aligned with the High Witan? I thought they favored non-interference. If gods were shaped by their Faith, shouldn’t he have reveled in endless blood?

If gods were victims of Faith what did that make me? Belief without proof. Was I doomed to eternal optimism?

Nearly an hour passed before the guard returned - with a servant and four more guards. We were escorted to the same audience hall where I had first met the queen.

Security had doubled.

The queen sat upon her throne. The archmagus stood at her side.

I approached, knelt, rose. “Your Majesty, please, withdraw your troops from the northwestern border. Save their lives.”

“The orcs trespassed,” she replied, voice cold steel. “They will be punished.”

“This isn’t punishment. It’s slaughter. They’re blinded by rage. The god of-”

“The Iron Nation will be crushed,” she cut in. “Arvellia will not-”

Lightning struck the floor. Thunder filled the hall.

White marble stood beside me, veined in silver. Obsidian hair streaked at the temples. Eyes of molten gold - no pupil. No mercy.

The Oathbound King.

“Seth Grimm,” he said, voice like a decree carved in stone. “For the destruction of Urzan-Brak, your punishment is ****.”

“Suck a cock, Aurelion,” I snapped. “I’m trying to stop a war. I’ll deal with you later.”

I turned back to the queen. She stared at me in shock. The archmagus looked equally stunned. Guards had drawn steel, awaiting command. The tension in them led me to believe that they wouldn’t wait long.

“Your Majesty-”

Radiant light hit me.

I flew through the large glass windows and into the city some sixty feet below.

I crashed through the corner of a mansion, stone and timber splintering, then hit the street and rolled.

Aurelion followed, descending from the shattered window, golden blade poised to impale me upon landing.

Adhaneth flowed to form a shield.

Radiant gold met her polished steel surface and glanced aside as he collided with me.

Behind him, a red dragon burst from the audience hall window.

Serah.

I scrambled up, Adhaneth reshaping into a staff as I parried. “Serah! No! Go home. Check on the others. I’ll handle this.”

She banked at the last second, furious. Her wing clipped a chimney, sending bricks raining down.

A dragon rampaging in Crownreach might just be worse than two gods fighting in the streets.

I needed distance.

“Woooo-” Electric guitars tore through the air as I vaulted upward, clearing rooftops.

Aurelion rose after me - not leaping. Flying - controlled, faster.

“Welcome to the jungle-” I pushed harder, music fueling speed. I cleared the outer wall and landed beyond the city in a sliding crouch.

He descended smoothly.

Adhaneth shifted - staff to shield to staff - as golden steel lashed and radiant bolts struck.

He didn’t rush. He advanced.

“Silence.” The music cut instantly.

“Kneel.” My knees hit the ground.

I **** myself upright as Adhaneth became shield again, catching his blade.

“Break.” Adhaneth screamed like tortured metal and burst outward in a storm of black tendrils, hurling Aurelion a hundred yards away.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

Tentative, warm reassurance flickered through me.

Aurelion stood, bleeding from a dozen shallow wounds. He marched forward.

“You know I didn’t kill Urzan-Brak,” I said, bracing.

“Elyndra says otherwise.” His voice was cold.

His blade flashed. I parried, retreated.

“Yveth will confirm my claim.”

“Yveth cannot be trusted,” he countered.

He thrust - feinted - swung. The edge clipped my side. Blood bloomed.

Serah landed at a distance, watching. Tense. Furious.

“Oathbound King,” I said, ducking under another strike. “You’re what, the god of promises?”

“I am Sovereign Authority,” he replied. “King of gods. Your judge and executioner.”

“Gotcha.” I deflected a bolt of light. “So you have no idea when someone’s lying to you.”

“No one lies before me!” he thundered.

“Naive too, it seems.”

“You delay the inevitable,” he growled.

“Who told you I killed Urzan-Brak?” I asked

“Elyndra.” Steel rang. My arm burned where he scored it.

“Who told you Yveth can’t be trusted?” I continued

“Elyndra.” I blocked another bolt of golden light.

“If Elyndra told you you were a woman, would you believe her?”

His jaw tightened. “She would not.”

“Why? Why do you believe her over anyone else? You accuse me and find me guilty based on one person’s testimony. Where is your proof? Or do you simply want me dead?”

His blade struck again. I blocked, sliding backward.

“You may be the god of sovereign authority,” I continued, breath becoming ragged, “but you are a fool and a tyrant. There is no justice in you - only corruption. Unscrupulousness. **** of power. Imperiousness. You don’t deserve to rule.”

He stopped, his gold eyes burned.

“Who among the Witan can judge truth?” I pressed. “Who do you trust to take my testimony? I will speak under oath - under whatever conditions you deem fit - to tell my side. Honestly. No evasion. No trickery.”

I lowered my guard slightly.

“Or did you come here seeking my **** regardless of guilt?”

* * *

Aurelion agreed - graciously, he called it - to delay my execution until my testimony could be heard.

The more I spoke to him, the larger an ass he became.

I turned to Serah and laid a hand against her scaled muzzle. Her skin was warm beneath my palm, steady and alive.

“Thank you for watching over me,” I said softly. “I have to go with him. It’s somewhere you can’t follow. Please go home. Check on the others. Keep them safe. I don’t know what Urzan-Brak’s **** is going to unleash - but it won’t be good.”

Her amber eyes held mine, unblinking.

“Very well,” she said in her two-toned voice. “Return swiftly. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I turned back to the Oathbound King.

“You have trained the dragon well,” he observed.

I looked him dead in his molten gold eyes.

“Shut the fuck up. She’s not trained. She’s my mate. And if you say something like that again, she’s going to kick your ass.”

He sneered faintly.

I didn’t blink. “I’m the god of belief without proof. She will do it.” I paused. “Now let’s go.”

His heavy marble hand settled on my shoulder.

Reality began to drip. Color smeared like wet paint dragged down a canvas. Space bent, sagged, and stretched around us. The sensation was like riding an ancient elevator—jerking, dropping, threatening to plunge into nothing.

Then the world rewrote itself.

Color reassembled in new patterns. Motion stopped so abruptly I almost stumbled - but I kept my feet.

We stood once more upon the Concordance. Or within it. I still wasn’t sure if it was the platform or just the name for “place with absurdly expensive chairs.”

Gray stone lay smooth beneath my boots - not polished, just worn. Around us, auroras of Faith twisted and braided in blues, greens, and reds. Floating islands drifted lazily in the distance, suspended between here and ribbons of living light.

Eight thrones were occupied.

Four sat empty.

Solenna, the Burning Crown, radiated from her throne of glass. Rainbows spilled from her like refracted dawn. Dark skin gleamed against golden gladiator armor. White flame rose from her head, flickering in a wind that didn’t exist. She was strength shaped into symmetry - dominant, deliberate, flawless.

Miralis, the Guardian Spear, sat upon blackened wood carved like sleeping hounds. Her bronze skin bore faint seams at her joints, as if she had been assembled rather than born. Fire traced lazy paths across her armor. Severe. Stern. Beautiful only if you ignored the condescension carved into her expression.

Others I did not know.

A woman of gemstone - faceted and glowing with inner embers. Sparks leapt from her hair, occasionally forming fox-shapes before dissolving. She wore flame like silk and sat upon pale blue fire.

A figure of granite veined with iron and copper, nearly twice my size. Crystals grew from her like ornaments. Lichen-green hair framed faceted, emerald eyes. She sat upon a rise of stone as though perched in a caldera.

A dark-blue man with seafoam-white hair that churned atop his head. He was lean, muscular - dressed in woven kelp that tightly hugged his hips, wearing jade bracers. He lounged on a throne of coral, legs spread wide with unnecessary confidence in his manhood.

A woman of stormcloud and lightning. Gray skin roiled - yellow flashes flickered beneath. She had an electric field for hair that arced to the copper coil throne beneath her, which hummed and buzzed like a steampunk engine.

A man who looked almost mortal. Broad-shouldered and sun-touched skin. One arm was slightly shorter than the other and his hands were calloused from hard work. He watched me with deep brown eyes, his dark hair streaked with iron-gray. He wore a simple tunic and breaches beneath a leather apron and sat upon a patchwork throne of stone blocks, iron beams, and driftwood.

And a green-skinned woman, full figured and soft. Flowers cascaded down her back in place of hair. Leaves stitched into a gown that flattered rather than concealed her curves. She has yellow irises shaped like daisies. Butterflies circled her living-wood throne.

Aurelion left me in the center of their semicircle and took his place upon a throne of gold and jewels. He was made of white marble with silver veining, his build chiseled to perfect proportion. He glared at me.

Silence settled.

“I’m Seth Grimm,” I said at last. “God of faith without proof.” I gave a half bow. “Small ‘f.’”

Nothing.

The silence stretched long enough to curdle milk.

I rolled my eyes. “Alright. Who’s taking my testimony? I’m in the middle of trying to stop a war.”

“I will,” Solenna said. Her voice rang like a struck bell - deep, resonant, final. “I will weigh your words.”

“Great,” I said. Do I just tell you my side or do I need to take an oath or something? Submit to a spell? Let you tie me up with your Lasso of Truth?”

“Speak,” she said, “and be judged.”

“Fine. I had nothing to do with Urzan-Brak’s ****. I didn’t know he was dead until earlier today. I’m guessing he died four days ago. I felt something then - like my Faith caught fire. Shortly after, babies were born. I doubt that’s coincidence.”

“He speaks the truth,” Solenna declared.

The green woman leaned forward, curious. “What children?”

“Two of my… girlfriends were pregnant,” I said. “I didn’t know. When my Faith burned, the pregnancies accelerated. They came to term in minutes, not months. The same happened with the goblins in Reedwatch. The children are… different. Red eyes. Sharp teeth. Sunburnt skin. Feral. All but one look mostly human.”

Whispers rippled through the thrones.

“We do not convene to discuss mortals,” Aurelion’s voice cut in. “We determine this godling’s guilt.”

“Pretty sure we already proved my innocence,” I shot back. “Solenna just confirmed I’m telling the truth.” I turned fully toward him. “By the way - where’s Elyndra? Shouldn’t my accuser be present?”

“She excused herself.”

“Convenient.” I crossed my arms. “She lied about Yveth. Lied about me. Then disappears when she might be questioned? And you still take her word over mine?”

His jaw tightened. His fingers bit into the armrests of his throne.

“Whatever,” I said. “Are we done? I have a war to stop.” I glanced around the circle. “Nice to meet you all. Maybe next time you’ll introduce yourselves.”

I stepped home, steeling myself for the bumpy ride.