OBSIDIAN RIFT

The morning sun climbed over the ruined settlement outside Dunmore, its heat merciless. The field between the settlement's edge and the dome was now riddled with heaps of dirt, turned to graves.

Survivors moved quietly among the wreckage, gathering bodies of neighbors and families, piling them in macabre stacks for burial. Garvan and Cian hauled a corpse onto the heap, their faces showing exhaustion, while a handful of others worked silently beside them.

In the field, Garrick and Edrik worked, digging graves as their spades bit into the ground. A tense silence stretched between them, periodically punctuated by the rhythmic thuds of their spades and the nearby forest sounds.

Garrick had already spilled everything and Edrik's rage had settled into a wall of silence. Beads of sweat dropped from his face, but he didn't look up, not even when Garrick paused, leaning on his shovel and staring at him.

"What's this, then?" Garrick broke the silence. "Silent treatment because of Aric, or because Selenna's got you locked out too?"

Edrik kept digging, sinking the spade into the damp earth with a sharp grunt as he ignored Garrick.

Garrick huffed, wiping sweat off his brow. "Look, I let him do it because we had no choice, the Widowmakers were at the wall, this place was overrun. You know the stakes. And Aric?" He scoffed. "He's dodged death more times than we can count, you've seen it yourself. Always pulls through the most dangerous situations unscathed."

Edrik paused, his spade sunk deep, and finally looked up at Garrick. "Why didn't you go instead? Why him?"

Garrick shrugged, suppressing a grin. "Didn't want to steal his shine. He's impulsive, sure, but this time he chose it, wanted to do right. Thought he'd earned a shot to make up for his previous foolish acts."

Edrik's silence returned as he resumed digging, his grip tight on the spade's handle. Garrick sighed, dropping his spade to the ground. "He's out there, Edrik. We should be looking for him, not digging holes."

Edrik straightened, his eyes meeting Garrick's. "We'll go looking for him alright. And you better hope we find him."

The sound of approaching hoofbeats broke through the exchange, both men turning their heads towards the noise as Edrik's squad rode into the field on horseback, their armor dusty as they reined the horses to a stop. Garrick, picking up his spade, followed Edrik as they walked over to the soldiers.

Gaegon dismounted, his armor creaking. "How can we help?"

Edrik handed him his spade as Garrick tossed his to Kris. "Dig," Edrik said, nodding towards Garvan. "Rest of you can help gather the bodies."

Tyron jumped off his horse, giving Edrik a thumbs-up. "The spell's set by the way."

Edrik nodded, then faced the squad, his voice soft. "Sorry for dragging you into this. I know it's not exactly Vanguard duty to help the folk out here."

Maeve waved it off, smiling. "Anything for you, Edrik...and of course, the woman you love."

Edrik's gaze immediately shifted to Selenna sitting at the threshold of her home just by the edge of the field. She sat with her knees pulled close, staring at the piled up bodies with unspoken grief in her eyes.

Without saying anything, he walked away from the group, crossing the field, boots rustling the grass, until he stopped in front of her. Before he could say anything, she spoke, her voice weary.

"Funny, isn't it?" she said, not looking up at him. "Vanguard soldiers digging graves for people they couldn't save."

Guilt hit Edrik hard as he crouched to her level, his voice almost cracking. "I wanted to come last night, when they hit. I swear it. But something… something held me back."

Selenna looked at him, not a flicker of emotion on her face. "I get it. I don't blame you. I saw the south wall swarmed myself. There was no way through." She shifted, her eyes darting back to the heaps of bodies. "All I wanted was them safe, inside Dunmore's walls. So untill that happens, I guess I'll have to keep fighting for them."

Edrik leaned closer, his voice filled with hope. "Selenna please come with me...live in Dunmore. You can fight for them from there."

She looked him in the eyes, shaking her head. "You know I love you, Edrik. But there's no way I'll leave these people out here. I just can't."

"It's too dangerous out here," he pressed, voice rising. "Last night proved it...you could die. Make it easier for me to protect you."

Selenna's face hardened, her father's firm resolve lighting up in her. "I'd rather die out here like him. These aren't just my people...they're from everywhere, every belief, every culture, remnants of the world out there that has gone to ruin. My father led them here with the hopes that he could preserve what was left. I won't abandon that."

Edrik's shoulders fell in defeat, his strength to argue faltering. He exhaled with a slow nod, then said, "Aric's in Yrengoth forest. He lured the Widowmakers...or Ruakas as you people prefer...away to save us."

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with shock. "Aric? He drew them away? No wonder." She held his arm, her grip firm. "Please go get him back, Edrik...he saved a lot of lives."

"I will," he said, rising to his feet, his armor squeaking. With nothing left to say, he turned and strode back towares Garrick, who already held two horses by the reins.

Garrick held out one of the reins to him with a firm nod. He took it and they both mounted up. Edrik glanced at Tyron, who was hauling burnt debris past them. "Help us with the dome, will you?"

Tyron nodded, dropping the charred wood and striding hurriedly towards the dome as the horses plodded slowly behind him.

Edrik stared ahead past the translucent barrier into the forest beyond, then murmured, "How do we find him in Yrengoth? It's a damn maze."

Garrick smirked confidently, guiding his horse. "Easy... we'll just follow the tracks. Told him to stay put once he shook them off."

A short moment passed by, then his smirk slowly disappeared, realization striking him. "Wait. I told him to stay put? And when has he ever listened?"

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Ankou had hit the ground hard and a wide crater had formed, imprinted by his fall. The atmosphere buzzed with gathered onlookers, clustered at the edge, looking down curiously at the winged figure lying in the earth.

Morrigan pushed through the crowd of deities, his broad shoulders parting the way, and then stopped at the crater's edge. "Ankou...are you alive down there?" he called, his throaty voice cutting through the murmurs.

Ankou stirred, his wings twitching weakly as he exhaled deeply, his skull mask slightly askew. "What's it to you, Morrigan?" he drawled. "Think your busy self cares for a pit-dweller like me?"

Morrigan chuckled light-heartedly, and slid down the crater's slope, dust rising under his boots. He crouched beside Ankou, reaching out to slide the Maelthir skull mask over his head.

Underneath it, Ankou's face was even more pale than before, dark hair glossy with sweat, but now a smoky cut in his skin ran across his face from jaw to brow, knitting itself together slowly. "Doesn't look good," Morrigan said, smacking his tongue. "The mortal realm is eating you alive."

Ankou winced, his eyes staring off into the sky. "Well, the Titans' curse has no day offs and neither do I."

He tried to wave off the concern, but Morrigan gripped his arm, pulling him up with ease. Ankou leaned on Morrigan, one arm over his shoulder as they climbed out, the crowd giving way.

They moved toward a fountain in the centre of the serene heavenly metropolis, its basin rippling with water that sparkled under the sun as deities clustered quietly around it.

Ankou huffed wearily as they walked, his voice low. "Too many trips to Ilona's city, where the curse is even stronger. Demons feasting on mortals. Last night's mess alone…" He shook his head. "It's hopeless, Morrigan. The end's closing in for us. The Aetherion's lost, and those pathetic mortals are all that's left between the demons and that crystal."

He staggered but Morrigan held him up, steadying him as they reached the fountain. "They will hold. The mortals will hold," he said. "Even if they don't, the demons would still need the Aetherion to bring forth their Primordial Spawn. We've got time."

Ankou dropped to his knees, cupping up water from the fountain and drinking. The liquid glowed as it touched his lips, the tear on his face healing fast and his wings spreading with newfound strength.

He wiped his mouth, staring at his rippled reflection. "Time's a thin thread." He looked up at Morrigan who only smiled in response.

"You should rest," Morrigan said, sitting on the fountain's edge. "Give yourself a break, Ankou."

Ankou stood, shaking his head. "I can't. You know Baivha. She wants every soul judged, no delays. And I can't let mortal souls linger down there, the corrosion is too quick."

He stretched out his wings, testing them. The tattered edges gained smoothness quickly.

Morrigan's eyes softened, just a bit. "How's she faring? Baivha...and Macha?"

Ankou paused, sliding his mask back over his face. "All's well with them. Baivha's steady, Macha's… Macha. Colder than the winter spirits themselves."

He took a step back, looking at Morrigan through the skull's eye sockets. "Thanks for the help."

Morrigan nodded. Ankou flapped his wings, leaping into the air with grace and leaving Morrigan watching as he vanished into the sky shortly after.

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Edrik clutched the reins tight, his horse slowly plodding through Yrengoth forest, its hooves sinking into the wet earth as the sun rose higher in the sky. "He'd better be alive," he growled, as his eyes scanned the undergrowth for more Widowmaker tracks.

Garrick rode behind him, sitting relaxed in his saddle. "He's Aric... he'd definitely be alive. Told him to stay put, though." He let out a scoff. "Should've known better."

Their horses pushed forward, the trail leading them deeper into the forest's thickness.

Edrik could barely contain his frustration. "You let him ride out here," he said. "You knew the Reapers roam this place."

Garrick's eyes stared ahead. "I knew he'd draw the Widowmakers out. He saved more than he risked. You'd have done it too, for her."

Anger surged through Edrik, but before he could reply, his horse snorted loudly, stopping as they came across a clearing.

Aric's steed, or whatever was left of it, lay ahead, a mangled wreck of bone and innards scattered about, its flesh stripped to the core by the bloodthirsty Widowmakers. The forest ground was stained black with blood.

Edrik swung down, boots sinking into some entrails as he studied the carcass, the reins still in his hand. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath, crouching to check for any sign of Aric.

Garrick dismounted quickly, encircling the scene, his eyes sharp. "Widowmakers didn't linger," Garrick said, kicking a piece of bone. "But look...tracks." He pointed at multiple footprints leading away from the remains. "Reapers."

Edrik straightened, his hand instinctively moving to his sword hilt, eyes fixed on the prints leading into the trees. "More than a few," he said. "They've got him...or they're hunting him."

Garrick immediately tethered his horse to a low-hanging branch. "We shouldn't linger," he said, drawing his sword. "We can still get him back if we follow the tracks."

Edrik quickly looped his reins on a nearby branch, his blade hissed out of its sheath. He followed Garrick as they moved deeper into the woods, led by the uncertain trail.

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Deep in Balmeir's tomb, Lugh stumbled over a slab of rune-carved stone, cursing quietly.

"Bloody mess," Lugh muttered, kicking a pile of dusty scrolls. His mismatched eyes swept over the clutter, the tomb illuminated by a glowing crystal hanging from the stone ceiling. This was more of a vault of relics than a resting place, shelves filled with glowing orbs and vials.

"He couldn't just leave the staff on a pedestal with a sign, could he? 'Here Lies Your Prize, Dear Brother'...no, that would be too kind."

Macha moved ahead, her three-pronged spear tapping her back as she nudged an orb to the side with her boot, its glow fading almost instantly.

"Keep looking," she said, indifferent to Lugh's yammering. "It's here...Duvran wouldn't send us for nothing."

Lugh snorted, forcing open a chest that caused crystalline shards to spill all over the floor, chiming faintly. "Oh, I'm sure he's got grand plans. My brother, though…" He paused, lifting up a cracked orb that gave out one last pulse before dying. "Was quick to leave the heavenly realm before the war tore us apart, you know. He went on to live amongst the mortals... sharing the secret of magic with the ones who followed him. I'm sure he built a legacy down there."

Macha chuckled as she brushed through a shelf of vials, their contents bubbling like a storm was trapped with them. "And corroded himself to death for it," she said. "Your brother's quite the legend. He knew about the Titans' curse and still decided to spend his last days there."

"Poetic, isn't it?" Lugh said with a grin as he tossed the amulet to the ground, its clattering echoing through the room. "The great Balmeir, god of magic, undone by his own good deed to the mortals. I wager he'd find amusement in my presence here, sifting through his mess like some forlorn collector or scavenger."

Macha's eyes shifted, she walked toward a pedestal covered in a veil of silver thread that vibrated like it was woven from the threads of reality itself. "Over here," she said, pulling off the fabric.

Beneath it, a long staff lay nestled in a groove, forged from dark wood and streaked with silver lines. its head crowned by a large but colorless crystal.

Lugh turned, walking across the chamber. "At last," he murmured, reaching for it, but paused. The staff's crystal and the ceiling crystal glowed simultaneously, drowning the tomb in a bright red light that slowly diminished.

"But for what purpose does Duvran seek this? This staff is useless without Balmeir.", he murmured.

Macha took the staff, lifting it with caution as it vibrated in her hands. "I do not yet know," she said as she examined the silver grooves. "Faleir knows the plan...he has not disclosed its entirety to neither me nor Duvran. But he considered this staff essential, nothing more."

Lugh frowned, a hint of unease in his face. "Faleir, huh? I have nothing more to say." He stepped back, arms folded as Macha headed for the entrance, the staff in her hand.

"I hope it's worth dragging me into this."

She didn't reply, her strides quick and purposeful as they exited the tomb, the ceiling crystal growing dim behind them. Macha's beast rose to its feet with a growl, stretching out its wings as they emerged into the infernal realm's harsh air.

Lugh stretched, rolling his shoulders casually. "How about a lift back to the citadel?"

Macha paused, looking at her beast, its reptilian eyes glowing. "What say you?" she asked. "Mind the extra weight?"

The beast growled, its tail swishing once in consent. Macha grinned at the beast. "He's fine with it...so I can't say no."

She climbed onto its back, securing the staff in a holster as Lugh scrambled up behind her, wincing dramatically as he held onto the saddle.

"Rule is," she said as the beast strolled forward preparing for flight, "don't shout or make noise...he'll dump you in the lava."