OBSIDIAN RIFT

A low chuckle echoed across the high balcony of Duvran's citadel, filled with disbelief.

"By the stars, he did what?"

Lugh bent his head backwards, a bark of laughter escaping him, the very idea of Dain's folly too ridiculous to comprehend. He leaned against the railing made of black stone, the faint glow from magma lakes below lighting up his sharp features.

Macha lounged on a stone-carved chair, her legs draped on her beast as it lay on the floor, idling, breathing slow and deep, its nostrils flaring now and then as if it caught some scent in the sulfur-tainted air. She lazily ran a dagger along her knuckles, her expression one of downright boredom.

"Dain stole the Aetherion from Eolan," she said, her words slow and measured, as if she were explaining something to a dim-witted child. "And he tried to rip a hole into the mortal realm."

Lugh pressed a hand to his chest, faking a wound. "You hurt me, Macha. Do you take me for a fool? Dain...our Dain...tried to tear open an Obsidian Rift? And just… what? Usher the demons into the realms? For what purpose? A bit of chaos? A tantrum?"

Faleir, who had been silent until now, shifted, arms crossed. He stood by the balcony's edge, his eyes flickering with flames of the brazier beside him. Unlike Macha, he seemed fairly entertained, though his amusement was of a quieter type. "Not just any tantrum," he murmured. "Dain always wanted the demons to free the Titans. He still hasn't given up on his philosophy that their return would erase the gods entirely."

Lugh froze. The usual smirk on his lips faded, then returned, this time, thinner.

"Madness," he whispered. "Absolute madness."

Macha scoffed. "That's what Duvran thought, too." She sat up slightly, waking the beast beneath her. It grumbled but did not move. "So he killed him. Cut him down before he could finish what he started. Then he made sure there wouldn't be a second attempt."

She twirled the dagger between her fingers, then pointed the tip at Lugh. "Duvran didn't just stop at Dain. He had every single one of his offspring slaughtered. Every last one."

Lugh lifted a brow, now looking at Faleir. "Even the heirs?"

Faleir shrugged. "Macha took care of the heirs. I hunted the ones that escaped."

"And you..." Lugh tapped his fingers against the railing. "I seem to remember you being Dain's most loyal hound. Hard to imagine you swinging the blade against your former master."

Faleir's expression was obscure, his voice smooth. "I joined the winning side. Anything else would have been foolish."

Lugh stared at him for a long moment. The silence between them heavy with unsaid betrayals. Then, finally, Lugh let out a long sigh, shaking his head.

"I don't know what's more shocking," he admitted, rubbing his jaw. "That Dain was this much of a fool… or that you are still breathing, Faleir."

Faleir smirked. "I have a habit of adapting."

Macha leaned back in her chair, tossing her dagger into the air and catching it. "So," she drawled, "is that all you wanted to hear, Lugh? Or do you need more proof that the world moved on while you were locked away?"

Lugh forced a smile, his restless fingers drumming again. "No," he said, though his grin had melted into something more thoughtful. "No, I believe you."

He turned back, looking at the wide stretch of the infernal realm, magma rivers, black craggy peaks, endless night, and for the first time in a long while, Lugh felt something he didn't often entertain; dread.

He stood still, realization washing over him as he thought; Dain's ego nearly unmade us all. The gods, the realms, the very essence of existence, dangling by a thread, all because one god thought he knew best. And I would've gone down with them.

The thought was still settling when something cut through the gray sky. A dark winged figure, gliding with uncanny grace, emerged from the swirling infernal clouds, clothed in tattered shadows.

Lugh leered. "Well, well," he murmured before raising his voice to yell. "Ankou!"

Faleir buried his face in his palm, shaking his head. "Quiet never lingers when you're around, does it?"

Macha smirked but said nothing as she found it amusing. Her beast snapped one eye open at the disturbance, then huffed, uninterested.

Ankou, the messenger of death, changed course at the sound of his name, with a single beat of his powerful wings. He started to descend to the balcony, the air hushing as he landed gracefully on the railing.

Slowly, he removed mask, the skull of a Maelthir, an extinct beast of the same species as Macha's mount. Underneath that skull mask, he was unfairly handsome. A strong jawline, high cheekbones, and glossy dark hair. His eyes lacked white, black as night and speckled with silver dots that looked that dying stars in the night sky.

"You," Ankou said, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion as he crouched on the railing.

"Me," Lugh confirmed, grinning heartily with his arms wide. "Surprised?"

"I thought you were dead."

Lugh gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, how cruel! Locked away, forgotten, presumed dead...is there no end to my suffering?" He dropped the act quickly as Ankou wasn't a fan of his dramatic facade. "No, dear Ankou, I've merely been... detained. Eolan's doing. A full century, if you can believe it."

Ankou nodded as he grunted in understanding, though his expression remained detached. He rubbed a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping slightly.

Lugh narrowed his eyes. "You look terrible."

Ankou exhaled. "I feel terrible."

Macha tilted her head, still playing with her dagger as she hardly gave him a glance. "Long day?"

Ankou's fingers tightened around his mask. "Just took a mortal soul to the heavenly realm after judgement. A woman...murdered, but made to look like suicide." He shook his head. "And she's far from the only one. Ever since the demons entered the mortal realm, the dead pile up by the day. Even worse, the gods are split up so I have to travel both realms."

Lugh frowned, his amusement faltering.

"The last of humanity will be extinguished at this rate," Ankou continued, his voice weary.

"That is why we must find the Aetherion before it is too late." A new voice cut in, resonant and carrying command.

The shadows themselves seemed to shift as Duvran emerged from the dark corridor behind them.

Ankou lifted his eyes to face him, his expression indifferent. "And what will that accomplish?" he asked. "The demons are numerous and the Titans cannot be killed."

Duvran nodded. "No. But they can be imprisoned for another five thousand years."

Ankou crossed his arms. "Even you know what the Aetherion requires. A soul to bind the Titans. And I don't think we'll find another Ilona willing to make that sacrifice."

A cruel smile beamed on Duvran's face. "Who said anything about willing?"

The balcony was drenched in silence.

Duvran inclined his head as he continued. "Dain's soul will serve as the binding sacrifice. That is the only reason I haven't fed him to Uraith. So the Aetherion must be found before the mortals are wiped out...especially those obliviously guarding Ilona's crystal."

Ankou was silent for a while before shaking his head in admiration although it was restrained. "Clever," he admitted.

Then he stood with a bit of exertion. "But I have little time to linger. My mistress calls." His eyes softened as he looked Macha. "She asks for you daily, you know. Says she hopes you'll visit soon."

Macha's expression twitched, but she quickly covered it up with her usual nonchalant look. "I'll think about it."

Ankou didn't push further, nodding slightly. He placed his skull mask back over his face, balancing himself on the railing. With a final nod to Duvran, he spread his wings and launched himself back into the sky, vanishing into the swirling clouds.

Lugh let out a slow breath, watching the dark clouds swirl where Ankou had entered. The feeling of dread and realization returned...the demons roaming the mortal realm, the mortals dwindling, the Titans on the verge of return, the Aetherion missing. Dain, you mad bastard. You've almost ended us all.

Still, the gravity of it all didn't stop his mouth from moving.

"Well," Lugh spoke slowly, turning back to Duvran. "I suppose this is the part where you finally tell me about this work you mentioned when you had me released."

Duvran didn't answer yet. He just stood there with an obscure look on his face, his dark robes pooling at his feet like a spill of ink.

Lugh stepped forward, feigning impatience. "You did say there was work to be done, didn't you?" He waved his hand. "Finding the Aetherion and all that? Must be quite the operation." He looked at Macha and Faleir. "So tell me, which of these fine associates of yours am I working with?"

Duvran's lips curled with amusement from Lugh's unwittingness.

"You misunderstand." His voice was low but carried meaning. "This very task is yours alone."

Lugh blinked in confusion and for the first time in a long time, he had nothing to say.

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An oil lamp flickered by the side, illuminating the tight living space. The Vanguard quarters weren't much...four bunks, a cramped table, and a floor that creaked no matter where you stepped...but it was home.

Aric sat on the edge of his bed with one boot off and one still on, his arms rested over his knees as he fought with the laces. Across from him, Caden leaned against the table, flipping a dagger between his fingers. The two brothers had been talking in the lazy way exhausted soldiers did, the words being less important than the company.

Nessa, on the other hand, had been out cold for over an hour, curled up on Aric's bed like she owned it. She had barely lasted five minutes alone with the two soldiers before sleep embraced her, and honestly, Aric couldn't blame her. Healing took a toll and she was young.

"She always this tired?" Caden remarked, nodding toward her.

"She falls asleep on my bed more than I do," Aric said flatly.

Caden snorted, suppressing a laugh. "That's tragic."

Aric smirked but didn't argue.

The door swung open, letting in a blast of the cold hallway air and the sound of boots scraping against the floor. Finn and Lyra walked in, carrying trays with steaming bowls of stew and flatbread.

"Took you long enough," Aric said, looking up. "Did you get lost?"

Finn rolled his eyes as he put the trays down on the table. "You're welcome, you ungrateful bastard."

Lyra sank into the nearest bed, stretching out and yawning dramatically. "Would've been faster if not for the bloody queue."

Aric's eyes widened. "That bad?"

Finn huffed. "You've got no idea. It was a damn parade of fresh-faced recruits."

"More like walking corpses," Lyra added, kicking off her boots. "Poor sods think signing up means three meals a day and a roof over their heads. Give it a few months, and half of them'll be demon food."

Aric sighed, rubbing his face. "They from the outer circle?"

"Mostly," Finn said. He grabbed a bowl and dropped into a chair. "Families can't afford to keep 'em fed, so they shove 'em our way."

Lyra held herself up on one elbow. "Not that I blame them. Prices are worse than ever."

Aric looked at Finn, who only nodded grimly. They still had people in the outer circle; family, friends, people who couldn't just pick up a sword and expect a meal in return.

Caden shook his head, walking over to grab a bowl. "Thought the Council was supposed to regulate that."

Lyra laughed out. "Yeah, and I was supposed to be born a noblewoman. Life's full of disappointments."

Their loud voices caused Nessa to wake. She shifted, blinking with bleary eyes before pushing herself up.

"What time is it?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Past lights out," Finn said with a mouthful of food. "You want some?"

Nessa groaned. "Shit. I need to get back to the temple." She flung her legs over the side of the bed, her movements still groggy with exhaustion.

"You sure you don't wanna stay?" Aric jeered. "Clearly, you find our company very engaging."

Nessa glared at him tiredly as she pulled on her boots. "I'll pass."

Outside, a voice went down the hall, calling for patrol squads to head out to their duty posts. The barracks were winding down for the night.

"Be careful on your way back," Caden said, not looking at her as he dipped his flatbread into the stew.

She nodded, pulling her cloak around herself before slipping out the door.

For a moment, silence settled in the room. Then Lyra exhaled and gestured for Finn to pass her a bowl.

"Anyway," she muttered, "If tomorrow, I have to train one more recruit who doesn't know which end of a sword to hold, I swear I'm punching someone."

Finn laughed. "Just make sure it's not one of us."

Laughter filled the room, a small reprieve from the grim situation. But the moment of levity was quickly interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

"Keep it down, will you? Some of us need to sleep," a soldier's fatigued voice called from the hall.

The room became silent as each of them exchanged glances. In that moment, they were reminded that even in these rare moments of relief, duty was never far behind.

Outside Dunmore, in the settlement, a different kind of silence reigned, cold and gloomy, as if the wind itself held its breath. Selenna stood in front of the two graves, her arms folded tightly to provide futile warmth against the cold. The mounds were still fresh, and the earth was uneven, as if the ground had not yet absorbed the impact of the deaths.

A mother had been buried beside her son, as if that made any difference now. The settlement had long moved on and gone to sleep, every home dark, except for the faint glow from lanterns behind closed windows. But as for Selenna, whenever sleep knocked, guilt and grief would answer first, and so she stood there, drowning in her own thoughts.

Selenna exhaled, her warm breath curling in the chill air. Malina had sworn she would fight through the grief. And yet, here she was...gone.

She heard a pair of slow and steady footsteps crunching on the ground behind her but she didn't turn.

"You've been standing here too long," the blacksmith said, his voice coarse due to years of breathing in smoke and metal dust. "You'll catch cold."

Selenna scoffed quietly, looking ahead. "That's your concern?"

His broad frame shifted as he stepped beside her, resting his hands on his belt. "Someone's got to look out for you."

She looked at him. His face was lined due to time and hardship, but his eyes were steady and filled with concern.

"I should have been there to stop her, Garvan." Her voice cracking almost to a whisper. "I should have..."

"No." Garvan cut her off with a firm but kind tone. "You're not a god, Selenna. You can't hold back fate with your bare hands."

Her lips pressed together as she looked back at the graves. "She promised me. She even joked about remarrying after burying her son."

"People promise a lot of things when they're trying to be strong," he said. "Sometimes they mean it. Sometimes they just don't want you to worry." He exhaled heavily through his nose. "We live in a world where grief drowns people, and we can't always pull them back up."

Selenna didn't answer. His words hit harder than she wanted to admit.

Garvan came closer, his voice lowering. "Your father brought us here. Gave us a chance when there was nothing left. And even after he was gone, you stepped in, did what Dunmore wouldn't. You kept us together."

Selenna's fingers curled into fists at her side. Now, she stood in his place, fighting for the people Dunmore had abandoned. And yet, her failure to save one woman pressed down heavily on her.

"We need you," he said. "You can't save everyone, but you can make sure the rest of us don't end up in the ground too soon."

Before she could respond, a sudden bark broke through the quiet.

Selenna's head snapped up. It came again...a dog, barking somewhere in the settlement. Then another dog barked, loud and frantic. The sound spread, more dogs joining in, their howls disrupting the silence.

Selenna turned quickly, her eyes narrowing as she scanned her surroundings. Garvan looked around cautiously as he cursed under his breath. "That's not good."

"Something's out there," she muttered as they moved quickly towards the presumed source of the commotion, their boots barely making sound. Some homes were lighting up now, as uneasy residents stirred from their slumber.

Selenna and Garvan reached the settlement's South end, stopping yards away from the shimmering barrier of the dome. In the middle of the grassy field that lay between the last of the settlement's houses and the dome, two mangy hounds stood, ears pinned back, baring their teeth and barking ferociously at the darkness beyond the dome.

Selenna followed its gaze.

But beyond the dome, all that could be seen was an absolute void of darkness and the forest trees swaying their twisted branches.

Then something moved. A hulking outline that looked like a shadow.

The dome quivered slightly as the thing pressed its large head against the dome. The dome rippled around the contact point, resisting. The creature's huge uneven skull— like a malformed monitor lizard's but without eyes—tilted, as it forced its head through the dome. Slit-like openings along its snout flared open, scenting the air.

The dogs lunged forward, barking wildly. People in their homes began to clamor, their voices rising as some stepped out of cloth-covered doorways to see what caused the frenzied barking.

Garvan's breath was slow, taking a few steps back. "Shit."

Meanwhile, Selenna was frozen in place with terror in her eyes.

The demon pushed harder but the dome pulsed in response, an energy flux traveling downward from the apex. When the pulse reached the contact point, a sharp squelch came—one of the demon's secondary limbs seared clean off, its massive clawed fingers twitching on the ground.

But the creature didn't flinch as the ruined stump hardened almost instantly, black resin-like blood hardening over the wound like wax. But it didn't stop.

Instead, it withdrew slightly but only momentarily. And then it pushed again.

The dome's defensive pulse wasn't fast enough this time. The demon's massive form breached through, forcing its way inside. Its rough exoskeleton tensed, the bony shoulder of its thick muscular fore limbs at the height of a man.

A low, rapid clicking sound came from its throat as it tilted its head unnervingly, studying the fearless dogs before it.

And then another shadow moved behind it. And another, there were more.

Selenna's stomach churned, her heart pounding in her chest.

Garvan took another step back, his hand gripping the hammer at his belt. "The Widowmaker..."

The dogs were going mad now, barking and snapping at the demon. More people in the settlement were awake now, doors creaking open. The murmurs of confusion were turning into something else—fear.

The dreadful Rattleback Widowmakers—Ruaka, had come for blood.