Chapter 34: Du Fells Nángoröth

Formora returned to hut to find everyone in the same spot they had been in since they took over the small building: Ikharos lying dead on the primary cot, Xiān hovering helplessly over him, and Kiphoris laid back in the armchair in the far corner, shrouded over by shadows and his cloak. His helmet had been removed, revealing fearsome jaws and a plume of deep blue bristles running down the centre of his skull. His eyes, all four of them, acutely watched her every movement.

She didn't feel like she was in any sort of danger, though. When matters of life-and-death ceased to matter, Kiphoris proved himself a quiet individual capable of intelligent conversation. Every exchange was insightful, and he was the most approachable of all the Eliksni she had met since arriving at Ceunon - but she supposed that may have been because he was also the only one to speak the same language as her.

"I've bartered for food," she said softly and set a loaf of bread and a small block of goat cheese on the small dressing table. Kiphoris dipped his head graciously.

"Ne tas ze," he responded. She had learned that without his helmet he was much less capable of speaking common (though she wasn't sure how that worked), but his statement was a simple one, and she was making progress with learning Eliksni. Ikharos's gifted lexicon had proven itself easy to navigate once she understood the most basic principles. 'Ne tas ze' translated as 'I/me know gift.' A method of conveying thanks.

Formora dipped her head. "You're welcome." She turned to Xiān. "How is he?"

The Ghost shuddered. "This venom isn't natural. It's paracausal. Like Light and Dark, but it isn't either. It... inhibits all other forms of paracausality. I mean, yeah, I'm making some progress, but some of this damage is beyond repair."

"So he won't recover?"

"Oh he will, just... he'll just have some gnarly scars to show for it."

Formora thought that an understatement. Ikharos's chest had been laid open by the monster in the mountain. It continued to glow with a wispy substance that, no matter what they tried, refused to allow itself to be displaced.

Xiān floated back. "I... I think that's the best result I'm going to get."

Formora eyed the Ghost's handiwork critically. Ikharos's condition hadn't changed all that much visually. "The venom's still there," she pointed out.

Xiān sagged. "I've nullified it as best I could, but there are some wounds even Guardians cann't recover from. The Great Disaster was full of that." She flicked her fins agitatedly. "This rez is gonna be rough."

"How will it affect him?"

"Physically? Not much. I mean, he still has all four limbs attached, so he won't be suddenly useless, but... there really isn't any way of knowing if the venom will continue to hurt him or not."

"Bring him back," Kiphoris grunted. The Captain stood up. His helmet had been re-equipped and his eyes were trained on the Risen. "I wish to speak with him. We must exchange words. Alone."

Formora fixed the Eliksni with a stern look. "Don't kill him."

"That is not my intent."

"Traveler above..." Xiān groaned. "Quiet, both of you. Let me focus."

000

Ikharos knew what a resurrection should have felt like. A flood of cold air into his lungs, and a sudden feeling coursing through his limbs. This time was exactly that, but with an added twist: it felt like someone had punched a red-hot brand into his side. He gritted his teeth and shot to his feet with a yell on the tip of his tongue.

He stopped himself upon noticing that he could actually see his surroundings, and it wasn't the cave from before. He was in a small house with walls of long-dried red mud. A colourful carpet covered the middle of the floor, and furniture was carefully placed all around. A single bunk stood behind him. He imagined that he'd been there for some time if the dried bloodstains were any indication.

Xiān, Formora, and Kiphoris looked back at him.

"How long?" Ikharos asked.

It was his Ghost that answered. "Two days."

"The storm?"

"It's... caught up. It's surrounding the mountains now. We can see it on the horizon." She moved closer. "How do you feel?"

Ikharos sat back on his bed. "Like crap. Better than not feeling anything I suppose. How'd we get out?"

"Kiphoris dragged you out."

Ikharos went very, very quiet, and his eyes searched out the Scar Captain. Kiphoris looked back with a guarded, grim expression. "Thanks."

The towering Eliksni said nothing.

Formora took the opportunity to press her own questions. "Are you in any pain?"

Ikharos shrugged. The burning sensation had receded into a dull throb, and that too felt like it was passing. "Just a bit of a..." He looked down. "Oh."

"Yeah," Xiān somberly agreed. "We managed to save you, just... not intact."

Across Ikharos's chest was a massive tri-clawed mark that bit deep into his flesh. It was already in the midst of healing over, and from the sight of it he anticipated it was going to scar over. That was hardly a concern; scars weren't often reason for worry. The blue glow within the wound, on the other hand, gave rise to a lump of panic building in his throat. "It's still in me. The venom's still-"

"I've stopped it from doing any harm," Xiān quickly told him. "I just can't get rid of it. It's not liquid, gas, or solid. It's a form of paracausal energy rather than anything else. A presence, not a substance. Like... like Eris's tears."

Ikharos flinched. "That's Darkness. But this isn't."

"No," the Ghost admitted. "Though it has the same effect."

"And the creature?"

"Dead. You killed it."

"Are you sure? It might be faking. It might come back."

"It was dead when we found you," Formora remarked. "Kiphoris called it a... a Star-Eater?"

Ikharos froze stock still. "That means..."

"It was an infant. I think we can rest easy," Xiān assured him.

Formora frowned suspiciously. "What is a Star-Eater?"

Ikharos laid back. "It... Sweet Traveler, it was one of those..."

"A what?"

"I think the Awoken called it an Aphelion." He shook his head with disbelief. "That any of us survived is nothing short of a miracle." His hands shook, and he couldn't look away from the bright wound. He felt like he was on the verge of having a panic attack.

Kiphoris stepped close. "Out," he ordered.

For a mere moment Formora looked like she would argue with him but then thought better of it. She sent Ikharos a lingering look that promised more questions later on. Xiān sighed and followed the elf out the door. The sounds of what he assumed was the Inapashunna village filtered through - the laughter of children, the talking of adults, and the bleating of their animals.

"Look at me." Kiphoris growl held a tone of such authority that it surpassed the fear and unease that gripped Ikharos, and he finally found himself able to avert his gaze from his injury. It was a blast of fresh air, bringing with it a professional calm that he understood.

The Captain leaned over him, eyes bright with fury. "Listen to me, Light-Thief."

"I told you not to call me that," Ikharos bit back. The Eliksni snarled and surged forward.

"Silence!" Kiphoris all but roared, his head inches from Ikharos' own. After a brief moment full of glares from either side, the Captain retreated a single pace, his fury undiminished. "You, Ikha Riis pak Kirzen, have been welcomed into this Scar-alliance by Tarrhis-Mrelliks. Mine-people, these Scars - they do not know you. Do not know your kind. I would have liked to keep them like that, so that they never know the horror inflicted unto us by Lightmongers, but it cannot be helped. You have moved your way into good graces. Because you wear the Great Machine's blessings, you will be afforded much respect and standing as Scar-ally."

Kiphoris clicked his mandibles rapidly. It was a sound of anxiousness and frustration. "You command respect from mine-Eliksni. They hear your words and consider them carefully. I will now tell you this: their lives are valuable to me. They live one life, like humans and Awoken. I do not wish for them to lose those lives. I love them all, Ikha Riis, and if I believe them to be in danger, I will fight to protect them." He pointed at Ikharos. "You must understand mine-meaning. If your respected standing puts them in danger, I will act."

"I'm not trying to kill them. It was-"

"Yes, Star-Eater took their lives!" Kiphoris snarled. "Revlis, Kalaker, Riilix. They were mine-Marauders. Mine-best. I knew them for so, so long. They were mine-friends! I am their Captain, but without me they look to the next noble. You are a noble. You are blessed. They looked to you. And now they are dead!"

"I didn't want them dead!"

"Your desire does not matter. Your actions matter. You did not act as you should have. If you had been one of mine-crew, I would have docked you for incompetence." Kiphoris shoved an Arc pistol into Ikharos's hands. He grasped it and looked it over. It looked no different to the thousands of others he had seen before.

"What is this?" He asked in a subdued voice.

"It was with you."

Ikharos remembered, then: terrified blue eyes, the heavy scent of blood and burning flesh, and an all-encompassing pain. He grimaced. "Riilix." He had fought with them so long that he wasn't a stranger to the sight of terrified Eliksni. Most of the time he disregarded it as unimportant as he was usually the reason for the fear, but seeing it up close in the caves was another matter entirely. "I think she saved my life," he continued. "The Aphelion held me against the wall, claws in my chest, and she attacked it with a shock blade. It turned on her."

Kiphoris's eyes dimmed with grief. "She was brave."

"I sent the creature away, but I-I was too late." Ikharos bowed his head. "I'm... sorry. She gave me this and said something, but I don't understand-"

"Said what?"

"Ahlok?"

Kiphoris inhaled deeply and retreated across the room to an undersized armchair. "Riilix-sister.

"Oh shit..." Ikharos dropped his head into his hands. "Is she with us?"

"No. Ahlok remains with Tarrhis-host. She is young and has only recently earned her the right to grow her arms. She is not yet a Marauder." Kiphoris tone was rife with exhaustion. "It is now mine-duty to ferry her these grim tidings."

"I'll do it," Ikharos blurted.

The Captain's head shot up. "What?"

Ikharos weakly nodded. "It should be me."

Kiphoris appeared, for a brief moment, startled. His eyes narrowed and he gave Ikharos a scrutinizing look. After a minute he nodded right back. "So you will. But we cannot return. Our task is incomplete, and we have no way of leaving these mountains."

"Surely we can-"

"You can hear, yes? We have told you the storm has caught us. It corners us here. The Star-Eater was not responsible for it." Kiphoris went for the door. "We will make a plan, yes? Recover for now, Ikha Riis, and think upon mine-words."

He ducked beneath the doorframe that was certainly not built with Eliksni in mind and left. Xiān flew in after the Scar's massive shadow had disappeared and slammed into Ikharos's chest. He cupped her shell and held her close. They shared no words - only the soft pulse of emotion and thought. Ikharos closed his eyes. He wouldn't have traded it for the universe. He couldn't imagine what he would do if it ever ended.

"How are you feeling?"

Ikharos jumped. "Fu-! Traveler above!"

The elf gave him a wry grin that didn't cover the concern in her eyes. She crossed her arms. "Noted. How are you feeling?"

"You asked me already. Like crap."

"That's physically. How do you really feel?"

Ikharos didn't say anything for a long time. "I'm... not okay. I'm not. I almost died for good. I should have died for good." He was shaking by then, and the warmth of the Ghost nestling against his collarbone did nothing to stop it. "I hate this so, so much. Death doesn't scare. It isn't supposed to... But true death is different. And it's always worse in retrospect..."

"You're alive now," Xiān promised. "The monster is dead. We're alright."

"No, we're not." He couldn't bring himself to look at her. As illogical as it was, he feared that if he did, she would disappear again. "Where... where were you?"

"I was-"

"Why didn't you talk to me?" He asked, desperation colouring his voice. He needed to know. "Where were you when I needed you?"

"It was eating my Light! I couldn't do anything! Ikharos, it was going to kill me!" She floated up at eye level. Her fins twitched irregularly. "I'm sorry, I wasn't there, but I couldn't do anything, it was there, I..."

Ikharos let out a shuddering breath. "Psekisk. I... I don't want to go through that again."

It was a cold shock of horror to feel so mortal. He was accustomed to having power, to being immortal, and having that taken away was awful. During the Red War he'd taken it as an insult. He made the Red Legion pay for cutting him off from the Light. With the Aphelion, though, he had only felt fear. It wasn't a blustering Cabal warlord whose plans were full of exploitable flaws. It was a predator of the paracausal. It naturally ate beings like him.

He hadn't felt that helpless since the Keep of Voices, and that was for an altogether different matter. He reopened his eyes. Formora gave him a hesitant smile full of encouragment. It was unusual coming from her, but not unwelcome.

"You aren't as different from mortals as you would have us believe," she said. "You're hardier than anyone I've known, but you aren't invincible."

He attempted to keep his breathing slow and steady, broken only by hitches of the fast-evaporating fear. "The illusion has its purpose."

"And what purpose would that be?"

"Keeping those prone to dying at a distance." He shifted uncomfortably. Colour crept up his cheeks. He'd almost lost his cool. That wasn't supposed to happen.

"No. You can't!" He was desperate. "I won't lose-"

Eris cut him off with a snap. "What I do is none of your business!"

Ikharos stalled. His expression hardened with cold indifference. "No. I suppose it isn't."

Formora nodded like she understood and sat beside him. "I know that only too well."

"Oh?"

"During the time I spent in Ilirea, I came into contact with humans. It was an elven city at the time, but even then it was home to a great many of your kind-"

"Regular humans," Ikharos whispered. "My kind are those who take a bullet to the skull and get back up."

"Fine, it was home to a great many of human kind. Is that satisfactory?"

"Sure. Carry on."

She groaned. "You... Anyways, it was impossible to not meet them. Elven students, myself among them, actively sought them out. Humans are so different, and we were so curious. We heard so many things about them. Some elves - though they are not common - said humans were worse than the most savage of beasts. Not true as it turned out. We wanted to learn more. But our teachers took us all aside and told us to forget the humans. Even the human Riders among us. We would live for so very long and the humans would not. They would grow old and die. We would carry on and bear that grief for the rest of eternity."

"I get the feeling you weren't a well-behaved student."

Formora laughed. The sound was irrationally melodious, enchanting, incredible - and it served to remind him that there was something distinctly inhuman about her. Not even the most elegant of Awoken could have mustered that grace. "True. I would test limits. I disregarded that set of advice in particular and met with all sorts of humans. I learned from them, laughed with them, sang with them."

"They grew old and died?"

"... No." The joy in the air evaporated. "Not grow, in any case. They burned when Galbatorix led an attack against the city. So many people died that day... and I am responsible for much of that death."

Ikharos didn't say anything, didn't move. He didn't know how to respond. Xiān was no help. She snuggled against his shoulder so forcefully her fins dug into his skin, utterly oblivious to everything around her, and he was content to leave her where she was. He didn't think either of them could handle separation so soon after what had happened in the cave.

Formora regarded him curiously. "That's something I don't understand."

"What is?"

"You care about the people of this world. You threw yourself against the Cabal to free Ceunon. You're hunting a Shade to make Alagaësia a safe place. You'll put down whatever threatens innocent people... and yet I'm here, alive and well. I am Forsworn. I have admitted to slaughtering innocents. Why am I still alive?"

Ikharos raised an eyebrow. Even that hurt. "Because... you didn't want to fight? I spared you for that and I haven't found a reason to kill you since."

"But you do have a reason. There's blood on my hands. An ocean of blood."

"I've worked with meaner bastards. Hell, I'm one of them." He sighed. "The things you did were done under duress. You hadn't the ability to do otherwise. I've... done horrible things. I might do horrible things again. No Guardian is innocent, and that's never been more true than with me. Your slate is cleaner than mine. You're willing to fix this world. You are a good person. And I like to think I'm halfway decent. That's why I haven't killed you."

"I'm surprised you trust me," Formora admitted.

"I feel the same, I guess?"

"The first thing I did upon meeting you... was kill you."

"Decapitation's a quick way to go. Other people have done worse and yet I still called them friends. Lennox gunned me down... twenty times, easily, and I still worked with her on a daily basis."

"Lennox?"

Ikharos' eyes scrunched shut. Crap. "A good friend."

"So there are people waiting for your return."

"No. She's dead. Jaxson and I have gone separate ways a long ways back. Shaxx won't shed any tears if I'm wiped off the face of the universe; he's been through worse, and we aren't as close as people seem to think. Eris and I haven't talked in years. Ikora's good, but again, she'll get over it. Petra's too professional; she'll write me off as another casualty and get back to the war. Mithrax has other people to care for, and with a House to lead he doesn't have time for grief. I don't know if Variks is still alive, and I'm not sure I want to know, so... no. No one's waiting. Everything that anchored me to Earth is dead and dust."

"I'm-"

"Don't say you're sorry. You had nothing to do with it and apologies never worked." The ensuing silence was as awkward and gloomy as hell. Ikharos hated it. He made a point of changing the subject. "So!" He began with an enthusiasm he didn't feel. "We're with the Inapashunna again?"

Formora nodded. "We are. The storm prevents us from leaving the mountain range. It's too treacherous to even attempt to leave on foot, and this village is the only place for a hundred leagues in any direction with adequate shelter and drinkable water. The tribe has been gracious enough to spare us housing while you recover."

"That's nice of them."

"They're superstitious. They truly think you are a deity. Or that you will be, once you slay the beast in the mountain."

"Already slain."

"Could there be another? Something must be directing the storm."

Ikharos attempted to shrug. One shoulder barely budged; he still ached. It had been a rough rez. "Your guess is as good as mine. I've never seen anything like this. I mean, I ran into the House of Winter in an old Venusian weather installation a hundred years or so back, but they weren't able to achieve much with it, let alone something remotely like this. There's so many failsafes and firewalls involved in that tech that pulling out a rain dance would be more likely to provide results."

"What of magic?"

"Unless this planet has been dragged into the Sea of Screams as part of Nezarec's pocket-universe, no. The power needed to direct a storm like this would be put to better use with other spells. Even teleporting our Skiff to wherever the architect of the storm wanted us would be easier. What... what about your end? Know anything capable of making and controlling storms?"

Formora shook her head. "Nothing that powerful. As you say, the power necessary would be immense. Using up the lifeforce of tens of thousands wouldn't even be enough." She paused. "The storm can't harm us inside the mountain. With the beast dead, the way forward might be safe."

Ikharos scowled. "I really don't want to go back in there."

She fixed him with a thoughtful look. "It frightened you."

He had no trouble admitting it. "I really don't want to chance anything like that again. I..." His head dropped. "We're doomed. I can't do this alone. I-I need help. I need a fireteam. I'm the only one who physically can kill Nezarec, but that's a slip of a chance. It's possible in theory, but in reality? I don't think I'll be able to do it."

"Are you giving up?"

Ikharos snorted. "'Course not."

"Then we don't have much choice. We have to return to the mountain."

"Not now. I can barely move."

Formora frowned. "Do your injuries still trouble you?"

"I'm not... sure." Ikharos gingerly felt the wound on his chest. It tingled, but nothing more than that. "I feel like I've fought the Cabal all over again, but the venom... it doesn't burn anymore."

"It's not just there." Formora reached to the side of his face, but he didn't feel the place she touched. Couldn't. "The beast caught you here."

Ikharos stalled. "Oh yeah. He did, didn't he?" He could keenly remember the feeling of the phantom claws tearing through his helmet and raking down the side of his head. "Can I get a mirror?"

Xiān transmatted just that onto his lap. Ikharos brought it up and winced. It was in the same glowing state as the other wound. The scar tissue ran down his skull from temple to jaw and shone brightly. The light was both within the scar and without, an essence without substance. When he reached up to touch the injury, he felt the pressure but nothing else. The flesh was numbed. "That can't be good."

"You're still pretty," Xiān snarked, voice muffled by shoulder.

Ikharos huffed. "Har har. You're hilarious."

Formora cleared her throat. She held up something that Ikharos didn't immediately recognize. When he did, he paled and sent her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."

She studied the hilt of the broken sword for a moment. Then she sighed and shook her head. "It's only a sword."

"Your brother's sword."

"Unless you want me to grow angry, stay silent," Formora warned.

Ikharos cut off his second apology before it could take form.

"These swords are supposed to be unbreakable!" She continued, exasperated. "How in the world did you break it?"

"He's not good with weapons," Xiān interjected. "He breaks stuff all the time."

Formora scoffed. "Yes, but this is supposed to be unbreakable."

"The Aphelion did it," Ikharos blurted. "I stabbed it in the eye, but it didn't take kindly to it."

"I wonder why..." She dropped the hilt on the bed. "I've never heard of anything capable of snapping these in half. Nothing can break them. Nothing. How strong was that creature?"

Ikharos shrugged. "It was an Aphelion."

"That's not an explanation."

"It is if you have any inkling as to what they are. The Cabal say they can savage entire worlds in the blink of an eye. We struck lucky; the one I fought was-"

"Only a hatchling, yes. Kiphoris said the same thing." Formora stared at the broken sword, utterly perplexed. "But... how?"

"There's a whole universe of horrors out there. We've barely scratched the surface."

"Don't remind me," Formora grumbled. "And no, before you ask, I'm not giving you another sword."

"But-"

"If you really need a blade, recover the rest of Orúm from the Aphelion and find a way to repair it. As you reminded me, it was my brother's sword. If you can fix it I can forgive you for breaking it."

Ikharos made a disgruntled sound. "That's cruel."

"That's incentive," Formora shot back. "I have no wish to remain here for the rest of my life. There's a king to kill. Let's get into that mountain and find a way to break up the storm."

"And I thought you were on my side."

"I am. That's why I'm going into those caves too."

Ikharos's newest scars showed no sign of healing, nor did the energy within dissipate. It was dormant and neutralized, harmless in theory, but he didn't want to leave it to chance if he had any choice.

Unfortunately, that choice did not present itself.

On a more positive side, his Light wasn't gone. What he had originally thought of as being cut off from Light was in fact just the depleted stores of power within himself. More Light trickled in at a painfully slow rate, and he spent all of it on bringing himself back to full strength physically. The hut had turned from a quaint little house into a makeshift armoury in no time. Ikharos and Kida sorted through the weapons Xiān dropped out of their digital vault. The Frame was dead silent, working with methodical efficiency, and he chose for himself his old rifle, a shotgun, and an energy sidearm. Belts with pouches full of ammunition were tossed over his shoulders, and a pack of energy cells was clipped to his back.

Ikharos, though, kept to his bow and Lumina. The former excelled against larger foes of paracausal origin, and the latter was useful in taking down opponents closer in size to himself. Considering what he'd faced in the caves before, he would have preferred to bring a rocket launcher - his Gjallarhorn would have shred the Aphelion hatchling apart - but considering it was a subterranean environment they were to enter, he decided against it. A fired rocket would have been just as likely cause a cave-in as it would destroy their intended target. In the end he picked up the restraint spiders instead. They had proven his saving grace in Ceunon, and he hoped to use them to the same effect again.

Formora showed up just as the sun was setting, the Sentinel shield locked against her arm and Vaeta sheathed at her hip. Her sniper rifle was slung over her back and sidearm holstered beside her sword. She was completely garbed in the military-grade body armour supplied by Scipio, topped with the Obsidian Mind helmet.

"There are people waiting for you," she said as soon as she entered. Formora jutted a thumb towards the open door. Torchlight streamed in.

Ikharos sighed. "I really hate what you've done."

She shrugged. "You did all the work."

"The dying part wasn't intentional."

"Really? I thought it was, what with the way you act."

"She's got you there," Xiān snorted.

Ikharos huffed. "Can we go back to the part where you were concerned about me? I could really do without all the snark."

He walked around Formora and peeked out the door. A small crowd had gathered before the hut, with Fadawar and the old shaman at the forefront. The Inapashunna chieftain held a casing of lacquered wood and gold trim with reverent delicacy. Kiphoris stood behind the crowd, wearing expression of exasperated frustration. The Captain couldn't get past the gathered tribespeople.

Ikharos had to give credit where it was due: Kiphoris was patient. More than he originally anticipated. The Captain evidently had a close understanding of humans, which was no surprise given that he was a former Wolf, and he treated them better than Ikharos expected. He didn't bulldoze through the crowd though it was within his power, nor did he roar at them to move. He just waited.

"Unulunka Mulik." The shaman bowed at the waist.

"Unulunka Mulik," the people of the crowd echoed with awed whispers. Their worship was getting old very fast.

"Yeah?" Ikharos forced himself to smile as pleasantly as he could, even if he didn't feel even a little happy about it. If Kiphoris could be patient then so could he.

"A gift," Fadawar knelt down and laid the casing onto the dusty ground. He unlocked it and, with deliberate slowness, opened it up.

The only thing inside was a rainbow-coloured feather.

To Ikharos, it might as well have been a nuclear bomb. In an instant he had his Lumina drawn and aimed at the otherworldly object. "What is this?" He demanded hotly.

The shaman spoke with sudden uncertainty. "It is our guide. A gift from the Old One, to impart upon us wisdom. It led us here, to the rich oasis of these mountains, and provided for us in times of great need. It is our purpose to return it to the Blessed of Unulunka. It is your birthright to reclaim it." He shot Fadawar a furious look. "Some thought to hoard it when it should have been given to you to help you on your noble request."

"It is my shame," Fadawar bowed his head. "I know now that it was a mistake." He winced, as if keeping it caused him physical pain. It likely had.

Ikharos kept his own eyes trained on the feather. He could sense life in it, however faint. The majority of people present were unprotected from the ontological power that dwelled within.

The ball was in the Ahamkara's court.

"What do you want?" Ikharos questioned. He sent Kiphoris the briefest of warning glances. The Captain's eyes were narrowed with suspicion.

The Wish-Dragon's response was a long time in coming. A single word.

"... Mountain..." It whispered.

"Psekisk."

They all stood on the edges of the single-room hut, staring at the feather laid down in the centre. No one dared speak for fear that it would jump on their words. Ikharos almost told them that it was useless, that Ahamkara only needed a stray thought to pounce on, but he didn't say much anything either.

"What now?" Formora bravely asked, speaking through Xiān. The entire conversation was in Eliksni.

When nothing happened, and no malignant jaws slammed shut, the present Eliksni let out relieved breaths. The shockshooter Melkris toyed with a shock knife and balanced it on a claw. He eyed the feather distrustfully. "Destroy it."

The feather didn't give any inclination of having heard. But it did. Ikharos could tell. He could feel it - just a faint flush of intention, like a soft breeze against bare skin.

"It didn't kill the Iinapeshenna," Kiphoris mused in his strange Wolfish accent. "Might it kill us?"

"... No..."

The mirrors they set up didn't shimmer. It wasn't lying.

"Death is subjective." Ikharos narrowed his eyes. "And there are far worse fates, particularly where dragons are concerned."

"Can we prevent it from attacking us?" Eldrin asked.

Kiphoris made a motion that was a cross between a nod and a shake of the head. It left Ikharos a touch confused. "Perhaps. The Awoken caged a Wish-Beast. I knew it. I met it. I did not speak with it. The Queen forbade me."

Ikharos cleared his throat. "Didn't work out for any of them. It was Riven that gave rise to Fikrul's second life and his Scorn."

Kiphoris growled. "Sol is a place of death."

Ikharos couldn't disagree. "Let's just hope this world is different."

"It does not feel like it," Eldrin sulked. He was still shaken up.

"Then we will make it different," Kiphoris promised.

Formora made a disgruntled sound. "That's all very good, but what about the Ahamkara?"

"Kill it?" Melkris tossed his knife in the air and expertly caught it with another hand.

"Bury it," Eldrin advised, "in a place no one will search. Let the sands break it down to sediment."

Kiphoris hummed a tune and they all listened in for lack of anything else to do. Ikharos recognized it; Sedia had sung it in the days after she had been released from the king's curse. Finally, the Captain said, "The Awoken made an architect of their beast. They used it well. And it turned on them. Their cage of amethyst, silver, and marble was not enough to contain it, but I now know that the power of wishes is potent indeed, and that our foes wield it well." He met the eyes of everyone in turn, finishing with Ikharos. "This is a war of gun, sword, and magic. We have guns and we wield them well. We have swords and we wield them well. We do not have enough magic. And that, I think, is most important."

Ikharos looked down at the rough, cracked floor. His heart was pounding. It was the sensation of a hunter having unintentionally stepped into the beast's lair. All it would have taken was a single misstep and he would become the hunted.

The feather knew it. If it had to die, it was not going down easy. It would not go down alone.

"You want to use it," Formora surmised. It sounded like a half-hearted accusation.

"I do." Kiphoris nodded slowly. He was cautious. Uncertain of his own course.

Formora turned to Ikharos. She deferred to him on matters that didn't belong to her world. He was, after all, a Warlock. A scholar of metaphysics and alien lifeforms. But dragons were an unpredictable topic. Ikharos didn't study them; he killed them. Huginn, Esatos, Riven; his victims. His nightmares.

"If we don't do this right it will devour us," he said, giving each word great thought. His mind was guarded, but words were thoughts too. Perhaps there was something to be learned in the ignorant fear of those who didn't know dragons. "We can't leave anything to chance."

He couldn't kill it. If he did, the Inapashunna would die too. The feather held their souls in hand. All it was going to take was a squeeze. And after Kuasta, after the tunnels of the Blasted Mountains, he wasn't willing to be the cause of any more innocent deaths.

But that didn't mean he wanted to play a Wish-Dragon's games. If there was a third option he couldn't see it. He simply refused to pick the remaining two.

"Eia," Kiphoris said. "We must be wary." He inched closer to the feather. "Speak, Wish-Beast. We know you listen."

The feather remained silent.

"Do you serve Nezarec?" The Captain continued.

"... No..."

"You're playing with a power beyond your control, Wolf." Ikharos crossed his arms. "Think about what you're proposing. Weaponizing an Ahamkara is impossible."

"As is returning from death," Kiphoris shot back. "I acknowledge your fear, but I do this for mine-Scars. We cannot defend ourselves from Wish-Beasts as you can. We have no witches. No bearers of Light. I will make us a shield from magic. No weapon. Only guidance."

"I wouldn't trust that guidance."

"Have we any choice? We are trapped. We are cut off. We are weakened." Kiphoris closed his inner eyes. "Three of mine-crew are dead. What else is there, Ikha Riis?"

A sudden crunch and she was gone.

Ikharos set his jaw. "It's insane. It's wrong!"

"It is my decision."

"And it's your head on the line," Ikharos snapped coldly. "Don't drag me into your madness."

Kiphoris met his glare evenly. "I survived the screaming machines. I survived the place between time. I will not fall here." He redirected his focus to Formora. "I need your words so that I might bind this creature to our cause."

She tilted her head. "Bind it? With an oath?"

"Yes."

"That's..."

"Madness," Ikharos finished.

Formora shrugged. "I was going to say clever. Oaths in the ancient language cannot be broken. If we're smart about which oaths we make, then we can exploit the..." She looked between the two of them. "You both realize it's a feather, correct?"

"Eia."

"Yeah."

"And the feather can... help us?" She ventured curiously.

"You heard it," Kiphoris pointed at the quill still in its casing.

"I did. It talks. How does that help anyone?"

"It doesn't," Ikharos replied. "Ahamkara don't want to help anyone. They only want to eat."

"... Eat..."

"Shut up or I'll burn you up."

Formora looked up at the ceiling. "I don't understand what we could gain from this, but I still don't understand a lot of things about either of you, so what do I know?" She sighed deeply. "I will translate the words to the ancient language, but you'll need to prepare the oath yourself. I wouldn't begin to know where to start."

Kiphoris outstretched an arm and splayed his fingers in a gesture of gratitude. "That satisfies me."

It was too much... something. Ikharos didn't know what exactly, but he couldn't stick around any longer. He stormed out of the hut and barked at Kida to follow.

Ikharos found a perch on a boulder by the mountain path. Dusk had already fallen, and with it came a quiet peace that clashed with his darkening mood.

"Fucking dragons," he growled.

Kida twitched. "Is something the matter, sir?"

Yes. There's a dragon I can't kill. It needs to die, but I can't I can't I can't, the Wolf will throw a fit if I do and I'm scared he knows how to kill me.

They weren't long in waiting for company. Ikharos expected Formora, or even Kiphoris, so he was surprised when the figure to clamber up beside him turned out to be only Melkris.

"Vel," the Vandal shockshooter greeted.

Ikharos dipped his head. "Vel."

Melkris took a spot where he could look over the entire village. He unslung his rifle and idly leaned it against his shoulder. He let out a heavy breath and slouched against the rock. "Ah, this is good. Eia?"

"I suppose so." Ikharos didn't want to talk to anyone.

The shockshooter chittered softly. "I enjoy this. The calm before a fight. Some find it frightening, but not me. The tighting is not in mine-hands. It cannot be controlled, so worrying is pointless."

"You can only go with the flow," Ikharos muttered.

Melkris nodded. "Eia. But sometimes the flow is obscured from us. We do not know what will happen. You have slain the Star-Eater, yes, and that is worthy of song, but we may face more battles in the mountain. If we survive this storm, then what next? Sorcerers borne unto us from the Maw-that-Devours. Our standing is unsure. The ground we walk upon is loose."

"It's a glorified mess."

"One we cannot escape."

"Are you trying to convince me to go with the flow?"

Melkris chuckled. "Ha, if only. Nama, Kirzen, I agree with you. This is madness, but it is madness that might gift us an advantage."

Just like that, he felt his bad mood begin to lift. Ikharos smiled, albeit weakly, and said in English, "'Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't.'"

"What is that?"

"Nothing. Just... yeah, nothing." He breathed in the fresh, arid air and tried his best to let go of his worries, but it was next to impossible. There were so many things he had to keep up with: Cabal, Scars, Shades, Exos, Nezarec, Urgals, Ahamkara, and now Aphelion. He had people to protect - three hundred and ten million of them, in fact - and so many things to protect them from.

He wondered how many would die before the innumerous wars being waged were finished.

It was midnight when the rest of the band caught up. Formora, Xiān, Eldrin, and Kiphoris marched at a steady pace, a pair of Shanks hovering behind them. The Captain held the feather's casing under one arm.

"It's done?" Melkris asked.

"It's done," Kiphoris replied. "We have a guide to show us the way forward."

"What did you make it swear?" Ikharos inquired.

"To not eat us. To not create illusions or tricks that would kill or injure us. It will not devour mine-Scars or your humans, Ikha Riis. It will eat what we provide for it."

"Then we best hope those oaths hold firm." Ikharos slid off the boulder. "Are all ready?"

They certainly looked ready. The Eliksni were all armed to the teeth. Their teeth were weapons too, if the fight got desperate enough.

"Ready," Eldrin said in a quiet, dangerous voice. The last Marauder was pissed. He glared at the mountain like it was solely responsible for every single sorrow in the entire galaxy.

Kiphoris laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We will avenge them."

Eldrin didn't give any indication of having heard. Kiphoris's hand fell away and they continued further up the path. Ikharos waited for Xiān to return to him and exulted in the closeness of their bond. It did wonders for his nerves. No more words were shared. They all knew what they had to do, and though the extent of the threat ahead wasn't clear, they were all very aware that they were potentially entering yet another hellhole. They began the hike with the impatient fury of those who sought to settle a bloodfeud and the hopeless self-realization of those who knew they were walking to their deaths.

The hike wasn't any more difficult than it had been the first time, but the sense of impending doom tricked him into thinking that path was fraught with new perils. Ikharos kept looking over his shoulder, certain that another creature - Aphelion or Ahamkara - was bearing down on them, but they saw nothing save a couple of buzzards snacking on a lizard. The birds squawked at them and, when the humans and Eliksni showed no sign of stopping, took their meal elsewhere.

Cold winds pummeled them during the climb, but Ikharos paid it no heed. The low temperatures didn't bother them. The only risk was in being torn from the mountain face by determined gale, so they dug their fingers in deep. It was early morning when they arrived at the summit of the mountain and stood before the colossal gates. The chamber lay open. Ikharos shivered; darkness shrouded everything within from outside view. He didn't trust it.

"Lights," Kiphoris rumbled. The Eliksni attached flashlights to their helmets and turned them on. The beams of light cut through the gloom and revealed the empty space inside. Nothing had changed. There were no waiting monsters. With a muttered curse, Ikharos rallied all his courage and entered the mountain. The metal floor was blanketed in a layer of dust, only broken by the tracks of humans and Eliksni. Seven had entered the mountain, but only four had left and one of them had been dragged out dead.

The elevator at the end of the room was gone. Ikharos grasped at the rusting chains and pulled them up. It didn't take long until he found where the metal had been cleanly sliced, right down the middle of a link. It looked like the handiwork of a plasma cutter. The cut was clean and smooth, and the metal around it had the clean quality of burned steel.

"What have you found?"

Ikharos wordlessly passed the end of the chain over to Kiphoris. The Captain turned it over in his hands. "This is odd," he said. "It does not explain the sound we heard."

"There's a lot here that can't be explained."

"That is true."

"Are we climbing down?" Formora asked. She sounded unhappy about it.

Eldrin walked to the edge of the elevator shaft, a coil of steel-thread rope in hand. He dropped one end off and waited. A few metres below a barrier of bright energy activated, burning right through the rope. Eldrin pulled up what remained. The end of the rope smoked and filled the air with a bitter smell of seared metal. The barrier deactivated.

"That's how we fell," Ikharos guessed. He leaned over the edge. "Plasma barrier. Ropes, chains, elevators of any sort, none of it will work. Whatever's here doesn't want us to have it easy."

"It didn't kill us on our way back." Formora said. "It could have. But it didn't."

"I would not like to test that again," Kiphoris growled. He looked at Ikharos and offered him a device shaped like a stake. "Can you plant this below?"

Ikharos narrowed his eyes. "So if anyone dies, it's going to be me," he grumbled.

"Death is not an end for you. It is for us," Kiphoris argued. He held another metal stake, the twin of the one Ikharos had.

He couldn't fault the logic. "Fine."

Ikharos stepped over the edge and let himself fall. The barrier didn't activate. He was free to fall all the way down the tunnel. The ground reared up far too fast, but he managed to push what Light he had out into a glide to slow his fall. He landed not so very well, but bruised knees and skinned palms weren't painful enough to pose an issue. He stabbed the transmat beacon into the stone ground and stepped back.

Kiphoris came through first. The Captain drew his pistols and swept the room for hostiles. He still had the damn case with him. Eldrin was second, armed with a shrapnel launcher, and he faltered upon arrival. He chittered anxiously. Melkris was next. The shockshooter, upon materialization, sniffed the air suspiciously.

Formora, Kida, and the Shanks were last. The robots were alright, but the elf stumbled to the side and lurched woozily.

"If you're going to throw up, take off your helmet," Ikharos called out.

She didn't throw up, but he could tell it was a close thing. Formora sent him what he imagined to be the evil eye, though it was hard to tell with her shaded visor, and shakily joined the Eliksni by the mouth of the tunnel ahead.

"Looks clear!" Melkris announced in Eliksni.

Ikharos summoned Xiān. "Give her a translator and link us all up."

The Ghost disappeared. She activated a small localized server and linked the radios of all those present to it. Short-range communications would be harder for their foe to jam, and they needed every advantage possible.

"Check," Ikharos said.

"Received," Kiphoris replied.

"Received," Melkris nodded.

"Received," Eldrin said in a hollow voice.

"Received," Formora said uncertainly. Her message came through in a distorted, emotionless voice of a translator-system. It wasn't perfect, not even remotely good, but it worked on a basic level.

"She has a voice!" Melkris chuckled. He was the only one, but that didn't bother him any.

Kiphoris pointed down the tunnel. "This was where the magic began. There was a light ahead."

"Blue?" Ikharos asked. "I saw it too. It disappeared when we neared it."

"When we sent a Shank in, it saw the same thing, but we did not. The Shank disappeared. It went elsewhere. Before that, a beam of Arc almost killed us." Kiphoris narrowed his inner eyes. "It was not the Aphelion."

That piqued Ikharos's curiosity. "A beam? I tried to use Chaos Reach down the tunnel, though it didn't work." He frowned. "But you went in, right? That's how you found me."

"No. I believe the light died away at the same moment the Star-Eater perished. It must have laid the trap."

"A pocket dimension? Maybe like an Ascendent Throne World?"

"Was it?" Kiphoris asked.

Ikharos shook his head. "I don't know. You probably know more about Aphelions than I do. I mean, it makes sense. It's not weak, but it's far from invincible when young. A pocket dimension from which to ambush potential prey sounds like the perfect set up for an ontological predator. But the dimension wouldn't have been able to contain my Light."

"It made you powerless?"

Ikharos nodded. "Yes. It was eating my Light, but I've never heard of something to eat Light directly like…" His eyes widened. "That's how it suppressed my Light. Because it wasn't a suppression. It just took me elsewhere, to a place outside of this dimension. I desired to use my Light, but that was when I was under the belief I was still on Kepler. The Light came into being in this dimension…"

"Like… an Ahamkara?" Formora guessed. "They use desire, yes?"

Ikharos frowned. "Maybe. Maybe not. But the bastard could have invoked the Anthem Anatheme."

"How do you know it was young?" She inquired curiously.

Kiphoris answered her. "It was small. Adults are far larger. They tear apart warships to feed on the life of the crews inside. And they leave nothing behind."

"That explains why we haven't found the others."

"Yes. That explains it," the Captain quietly echoed.

Formora went quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Do not dwell on those matters, Zeshus. There is so much more at stake. Come, let us move on." Kiphoris waved everyone after him. "Stay together. Know who stands beside you."

"Keep an eye on each other," Ikharos added. "If there's a duplicate, just be aware that the Aphelions are capable of disguising themselves as people." In a quieter voice he said, "The last one wore Revlis like a cloak."

A nervous tension fell over the group. Ikharos almost regretted saying anything at all, but they needed to be warned. They needed to doubt, to suspect. It may have proven to be the deciding factor in the struggles ahead.

They delved deeper into the mountain and followed a path Ikharos knew. He cupped a ball of Solar Light in his hand, just like before, but this time it didn't go out. It gave him relief. There wasn't an Aphelion nearby, but there was still tunnel to cover. They found the hidden staircase with relative ease and climbed down to the magnificent subterranean temple that waited beyond. It looked very different now that he could actually see. There was an army of dwarven statues, all carved so they were garbed in primitive armour of chainmail and scale. Most wore simple skullcaps, but a rare few - of statues larger than the rest - had spectacle helms.

The Aphelion's corpse was just where he killed it. And where it killed him.

"That can't be a hatchling," Formora stated breathlessly. "It's just too large."

"No." Ikharos couldn't take his eyes off the beast. "We're just small." He stepped around the corpse to get at the beast's head. The Aphelion's glow had disappeared, for the most part, and the blue blood/venom mixture had congealed into a dead grey slime. A sliver of light snuck out from its slack maw. Orúm's blade was still in the creature's skull. With a shaky breath Ikharos grasped the end of it still poking out and pulled back. It came out with a squelch. More grey liquid trickled out of the ruined organ.

"Ew," Xiān gagged.

"My thoughts exactly."

The snap had been abrupt and relatively clean. The metal wasn't cracked or shattered. In theory it would have been easy to reforge the blade, but Ikharos didn't know what material Rider's swords were made out of and thus had no way of knowing how to work with it. There was the added complication of the magic attached to the weapon, which he suspected he was most certainly going to mess up. And, even if he managed all that, the sword was likely to be a few inches shorter - which was less than desirable.

Ikharos didn't want it to change. Orúm was completely and utterly perfect for him. It was quick, but a two-handed slash with it could pass on as much power as any Hive cleaver. Like most weapons forged in Light or Dark, the weapon had a presence to it, but it was built of another paracausality. It felt nice against his being, against his Light. It had a cool, soothing touch. It belonged to him.

"I can't fix this," he announced. He wiped the blade down on the edge of his robes. He offered it up to Xiān. She transmatted it away.

"You better," Formora muttered darkly.

Melkris snorted. "You have been threatened, Kirzen."

"So I have." It was easy to get along with the shockshooter. He had a laid back attitude that, coupled with his competence as a soldier, appealed to Ikharos. He wasn't immediately problematic like a few his other companions were.

Kida pointed at the creature. "Sir. This deceased entity appears to be the origin of this cavern's abnormally high levels of radiation."

"I've warded everyone," Formora told him. "We're guarded from it." She peered more closely at the Aphelion. "It's dead... right?"

"Can you feel anything?" Ikharos questioned.

"No."

"Then it's dead."

"Perhaps not fully." Kiphoris used a sword to leverage the creature's jaw open. The light within brightened considerably, shining through the Aphelion's long crystallic fangs.

Eldrin snarled. "We should tear it apart. Make sure it will not rise again.

Melkris took a peek at the monster's mouth. "I've never seen a Star-Eater before. I wager you might carve a great trophy from this, Kirzen. Tooth-knives, venom darts, a cloak of its skin..."

"Problem is getting it out of here," Ikharos replied. "Even together we won't be strong enough to carry it out. Still, you might be onto something. Something good could come of this."

Formora made a disgusted sound. "You would harvest it?"

"Tear it apart," Eldrin repeated.

Ikharos ignored him and held up a hand clad in Ahamkara bone, scales, and feathers. "The best stuff always comes from the baddest of beasts. And, hey, you can't say anything."

"Why not?"

"You cut open a Nïdhwal for its heart."

She crossed her arms. "That was different."

"How?"

"The Eldunarí has its uses as a tool. It's not a hunting trophy. This creature doesn't have a... it doesn't, does it?"

Ikharos opened his mouth to say 'no, it doesn't', but he caught himself. "I don't know."

"Elden-errii?" Kiphoris attempted. "Would you explain it to me?"

"Wait," Ikharos looked the beast over in a new light. "If it invoked the Anthem Anathemet, like an Ahamkara or a Worm would, then… I need to test something. Hey, hand me a sword."

"Mine-sword?"

"Yeah."

Kiphoris growled deeply. "Bah! Fine. Do not break it." He handed the blade over hilt first.

"I make no promises," Ikharos muttered. He pressed Ka'Den's activation trigger. Arc lit up along the beautiful alien weapon's length. He walked to the Aphelion's side and pressed the sword in halfway, then slowly drew it across in a horizontal line. Thick grey fluid seeped out of the fine cut. Ikharos made a number of other incisions and stepped back as the flank of the best opened up. A heavy stench of copper wafted out.

There was blood, there were organs that Ikharos had never seen the like of before, and there was a bright glow from the place he expected the heart to be.

"Damn."

The others looked on with a mixture of disgust and intrigue as he cut the source of the light free of its fleshy container. Ikharos hacked and sliced until the gleam of the Aphelion's core shone brightly and he levered it out with Ka'Den's tip. The perfect sphere broke free of the fleshy constraints and rolled across the gore-covered floor, coming to a stop by the foot of a dwarven statue

"It has an Eldunarí," Formora said in a disbelieving tone. "A heart of hearts."

Ikharos shook his head. It wasn't the first core he'd ripped out of a flailing monstrosity. "No. It's the heart, sure, but this is something... something from outside our universe. A relic from another time and another reality. It's not a beast of material design. No wonder they're so dangerous."

The sphere was smooth and marble-like in appearance. It was a deep bluish colour, utterly flawless, and an ethereal light shone through the shell.

"... Heart..."

"Kiph, tell your dragon to shut up." Ikharos reached for the Void and delicately pushed it over the Aphelion core. He avoided actually touching it with the hungry beyond, only using the Void to cleanse the orb of the fatally venomous film of gore surrounding it.

The Captain made a sound in the back of his throat. "I am waiting for it to deliver guidance unto us."

"I wouldn't hold out hope." Satisfied with his handiwork, Ikharos grabbed the orb and lifted it up for a closer look. It was about the size of a soccer ball and much, much heavier. It had gem-like quality to it to it as well. Formora was only half-right: no fully conscious life remained within, but vibrant paracausal energies still swarmed throughout the inside of the orb. They stung whenever they brushed by his Light, but it was more of an irritation than a true pain. "Yeah, just what I thought. This is more like an Ahamkara's heart than that of a Nïdhwal."

"And it is dead?"

"For now."

Formora shuffled nervously. "For now?"

Ikharos nodded. "I don't think it's actually possible to truly kill an Aphelion. It'll take time and a couple of choice victims, but this thing could be reborn in... a few centuries? Millennia? Something like that."

"And you know this how?"

"Because I'm a clever Warlock. I theorize stuff based on what I know and what I suspect." He turned the orb over. "And I suspect this might be a better investment than the feather."

"... No..."

Ikharos snorted. "Thought you'd say something like that."

"I'm keeping the Wish-Beast." Kiphoris, looking thoroughly done with the dead beast, turned his gaze to the other end of the chamber. "What does the heart matter? It is dead now."

"I'm sure we can use it one way or another."

"Return my sword."

"It's a nice weapon," Ikharos observed. "Here."

Kiphoris grunted his thanks and sheathed the Wolfblade. "Shall we move on? Or will we gawk at the beast further?"

"It killed them," Eldrin muttered darkly. "We should make an example of it."

The Captain clacked his fangs irritably. "Eldrin. It is dead and gone. We waste time here."

"But-"

"We will settle this oath of blood with whomever brought us here. The Star-Eater has already been dealt with, but there must be more to this mountain."

"You do not care!" Eldrin snapped. "They were-

Kiphoris lifted himself up and rolled his shoulders. He said, in a dangerously cold voice, "I feel their deaths as keenly as you. They were mine-friends too. Do not mistake mine-urgency for disregard."

"I... apologize, mine-Captain," Eldrin said with some difficulty. "My grief makes me brash."

Kiphoris harrumphed and turned about. "We dawdle no longer. Follow."

They didn't wait around. Once Kiphoris started moving, the rest of them followed.

"It's the Ahamkara we should be killing." Ikharos mentally complained.

"Kiphoris is smart. He's only doing what he believes is right. He'll come around."

"Every moment it lives is a risk."

"I don't like it anymore than you do. Just let him-"

"Make his mistakes? He's a Fallen Captain, not a child. It's all our necks under the axe if this goes bad."

The statues lined the way to the chamber's opposite end. There were so many of them and each one was crafted with careful attention to detail. Every link in their mail, every scale - all of it was carved with stark clarity. The architects of the temple must have been truly talented stonemasons.

The best, by far, were the statues waiting at the end beside a wide entrance to yet another room. They were larger than any other, and from their stance and build the dwarves must have held them in high regard. One held a heavy, long-hafted axe and the other a gloriously ornate hunting bow. The first was garbed in heavy plate metal while the second wore a flowing cloak complete with a hood.

"That's Urûr," Formora said, pointing first to the archer. "He's the dwarven god of the sky and wind. And that," she pointed to the axeman, "is Morgothal, god of fire. They're said, in dwarven myth, to be brothers - as well as the creators of dragons."

Ikharos stared at them with a sudden despair. "They're not gods."

"I know, the dwarven deities-"

"No. I know they aren't gods," he swallowed thickly, "because they're Guardians."

AN: Thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!