Chapter 20

Pyre followed the Shepherd through the streets of Aevum.

Souls parted for the massive old man, not hurriedly, not in fear, but it was clear that the Shepherd had a reputation as conversations dimmed and bodies angled away. Figures crossing the street changed direction without appearing to consciously decide to do so. Even those watching from balconies leaned back as the Shepherd passed beneath them.

The Shepherd laughed it off, the sound rolling easily from his chest. “Bastards, all of them. Your Swordsman included. People fear what they do not understand. And when they do understand it, they fear what that says about them. This way,” he said, taking a sudden turn down an alley.

The alley narrowed quickly as the crystalline architecture thinned and gave way to older stone. The symmetry faltered. The careful ceremony of Aevum’s elevated factions softened into something rougher, more practical. Walls bore chips and stress fractures, while repairs showed where damage had been endured rather than erased.

They passed what Pyre was certain was the Hollow without entering it.

Fog clung to the lower streets here, obscuring most of the district from view, yet he felt it all the same. The pull was nothing like the Font of Eternity, the pressure negative, as if something was trying to carve Pyre from the inside out. Where the Font drew with promise and gravity, the Hollow pulled with appetite. It was hunger, patient and unashamed, waiting for anything weak enough to enter into its trap.

“Where are we going?” Pyre asked, trying his best to mask his uncertainty. “All you said was someplace private.”

The Shepherd kept moving. “The area around the Font of Eternity is not made for the kind of discussion I would like to have with you. It is made for meditation, a strategy to align your Domain and increase your Anima, which I’m sure you’ll learn about shortly. You are on, what, the second or third day or your orientation?”

“Something like that. It’s hard to keep track.”

“But they have revealed your Domain.”

“Yes, Defiance.”

The Shepherd stopped so abruptly that Pyre nearly collided with him. The giant of a man turned. He leaned forward, the scars crossing his face stretching wide as he examined Pyre. “Defiance, huh? I bet the recruiters liked that.”

“Not at all.”

“Why am I not surprised there?” the Shepherd asked. “Defiance is unstable and inconvenient to their goals, dangerous to any belief system as a whole. That doesn’t mean it’s evil, and it doesn’t make it heroic. It’s merely disruptive, which I find intriguing. If you ask me, disruption is what this cursed place needs.” He motioned for Pyre to follow him again. “Come, we’re nearly there.”

Whatever the Shepherd considered near proved generous.

The two walked far longer than Pyre expected, the city thinning around them until the glow of Aevum softened and dulled. The streets grew uneven, and the buildings leaned in strange ways. Growth became more aggressive here, with thick vines and roots cracking through stone, the city fraying at its edges.

They came to a rise where a large estate stood alone, set apart from the rest of the city and overlooking Aevum below.

Creeping vegetation had claimed its walls, ivy and thorned growth crawling over stone that had not been maintained in some time. Trees in the yard were mangled and twisted, their branches bent into shapes that suggested long neglect rather than age. High hedges sealed off one side of the grounds, grown thick and overgrown, while beyond the estate, blackened hills rolled into mist, their silhouettes fading into the dim distance.

The Shepherd stopped before the estate and inhaled deeply. “Some of them might be here.”

“Who?”

“The people that feel the same as I do. We are not a faction, regardless of what the factions might say. We operate both within and around the pantheon, and because this is the case, we do not have an official name. Or at least, not one that we have chosen. Some people call us the Unmoored.”

“Why the Unmoored?”

“The name came from a rival who has since vanished, a nickname for how we operate,” the Shepherd said, barely hiding his disdain. “Think of the pantheons and their factions as navy fleets. In that regard, we are pirates. And it just so happens that this former rival of mine was from a world with plenty of seas and an equal number of pirates, one that no longer exists. The worst of them were known as the Unmoored. The name has stuck with us through the ages, whether I like it or not. Rebranding in the afterlife is no easy feat. Come.”

The manor’s massive door opened on its own, stone shifting with a low, deliberate sound. It was sized for the Shepherd, wide and tall and undeniably heavy.

They stepped inside, the door closing behind them with a final, soundless certainty. The foyer beyond was vast, dominated by a sweeping staircase that rose into shadow. The Shepherd ignored it and veered into a side passage that opened into a study filled with worn furniture and tables crowded with age-marked books. Wide windows overlooked a yard scarred by repeated combat, the ground cratered and parts of the stone stained with scorch marks.

It was then that Pyre noticed the figure sitting on a stool near a stained window overlooking Aevum.

The Shepherd? No, he thought, shaking his head. An exact replica.

Same massive frame. Same robes. Same posture. The figure even brooded silently, his head bowed, the man hunched over.

“Enough, Tallow,” the real Shepherd said in a dismissive tone.

The seated figure ignited, robes bursting into flame as a waxy flesh melting downward, where it pooled on the floor before reshaping. The fire receded as the form reconstituted into Pyre.

“Nice to meet you,” the thing said, now wearing Pyre’s face, his red hair, his stance, even the restless tension in his shoulders.

Pyre froze, not sure of what to make of what he was seeing. It unsettled him, made his skin crawl.

“Tallow,” the Shepherd told Pyre, gesturing to him. “Who else is here?”

“Right now,” Tallow said, still in Pyre’s form yet with his own voice, “Irix, Sura, and Ronark. Veylan was here, but he went out to refill the Anima lanterns.”

The Shepherd grunted a response. “Good, fetch them, but tell them to give me a moment with Pyre before they come to introduce themselves.”

“I could just introduce him to all of them now,” Tallow said as heat rippled across his skin and his outline began to soften. His body sagged and reshaped, features running like wax as a taller, elven female form pushed through beneath the surface. Tallow stopped halfway, one arm elongated, his face caught between two selves. “But perhaps it’s better they do so themselves. I will be back.”

“Perhaps,” the Shepherd said, clearly used to the shifter’s antics. “Give us a moment, Tallow.”

“As you wish.” Tallow stepped past Pyre still in the partially formed body of a female, wax dripping silently onto the floor.

The study fell quiet as the Shepherd turned away from Pyre, his massive presence filling the room as he approached the stool that Tallow had been sitting on mere moments ago.

He took a seat; rather than turn to the window, he looked up at Pyre, the half smile on his face fading. “Tell me more about Gaius. What else did he say?”

“I told you everything,” Pyre said, still trying to make sense of Tallow and how strangely the man had changed forms.

The Shepherd scoffed. “Surely there was more to it than Gaius simply telling you to find me.”

“Not really. He answered my question about what he was there to take—”

“The heart of your realm,” the Shepherd said almost bitterly. “You said that much.”

“And he said to find you if I survive the Shriving. There wasn’t much else. So, where is he?”

The Shepherd looked annoyed, the lines around his eyes tightening. “How would I possibly know where he is?”

“You seem to know a lot. Gaius himself called you the Shepherd. You knew about my Sigil.”

“And?” he asked, agitation rising.

“Are you some kind of God?”

He squinted at Pyre. “Do I look like a God to you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only seen Karastella.”

“Ah, yes, the Heavenly Host, perhaps the worst of the Light Pantheon. I despise them all, as I’ve made it clear, but I especially despise the Heavenly Host. And Karastella is no divine being. She’s a Divine Being.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, the stool creaking again beneath his weight. “So Karastella washed her hands of your realm, and you took the Sigil from Daedalus. Gaius killed you, and he didn’t say anything else other than to find me?”

Pyre shook his head. “That’s it. That’s my story. I prayed to Karastella my whole life. When my world needed her, she was gone.”

The Shepherd leaned forward. “You really haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

“That beings like her and the rest of the pantheons and their factions are simply using my realms like mine resources? That this is all an elaborate, cosmic ruse? I’m aware.”

“No, not that. You should have already figured that out by now. You haven’t figured out that these so-called deities aren’t worth your worship—”

“I know that now—”

“And none of them are unique. None. They pretend they are enlightened because they have mastered numerous Domains, which just so happens to further shape the instrument they can use to war against one another.”

“A Sigil.”

“A Sigil,” the Shepherd said, “They promise salvation, guidance, ascension, power, you name it. All is hypocrisy. All is deceit. The hypocrites and fools of Aevum. Bastards. Fucking bastards would be more accurate. Monsters hellbent on power rather than using their resources for the common good. The Light Pantheon preaches moral purity in the guise of domination; the Dark Pantheon preaches domination in the guise of obedience; the others follow different creeds but ultimately reach the same barren lie. All of them are worse than any living or ruined realm could ever produce. But you wouldn’t understand that.”

“It’s pretty clear to me,” Pyre said, his body shifting forward on instinct before he checked himself.

The Shepherd laughed bitterly, the sound rough and humorless. “Clear to you, you say? Please, you can’t possibly understand how bad it has gotten here.”

Heat bloomed in Pyre’s chest, a familiar pressure that radiated down his arm and into his palm. His fingers curled reflexively, the urge to summon his Sigil sharp and immediate.

Pyre forced his hand behind his back, nails digging into his own skin. “You know what I do know?” he asked, barely able to hide the sneer forming on his face.

“What do you know, Pyre?”

“I know that someone like you, someone incredibly knowledgeable, someone who understands this power—maybe someone like that could actually do something. Maybe all this protest and bitterness is a way for someone like you to hide the fact that they are simply part of another faction. You are no better than the people who were addicted to the draught in my realm. They sat there drunk as the rest of us fought for our lives, watching our shared demise. They could have acted, even if it was futile, but they did not.”

“You don’t know anything about us or what we do. You are soft, barely formed,” the older man said, his tone sharp and unforgiving. “For all I know, you may wind up in the Hollow in the next few days. You could even end up there tonight.”

“Is that a threat?” Pyre asked, breathing heavier now, eyes narrowed on the Shepherd.

“It is. Summon your Sigil if you care to respond. Otherwise, lower your volume and take a step away from me,” he said mockingly, “and when you’ve calmed down, listen to what I have to tell you.”

Pyre took a step back, jaw tight. “I think the idea—”

“There you go, trapped in your own Domain.”

“Am I trapped, or am I simply observant? I admit I’ve only been here just a few days, yet I already feel the same as you. Can’t you see that?” Pyre asked, nearly at his wits’ end. “I don’t even know what we’re arguing about at the moment.”

The Shepherd chuckled. “We aren’t arguing. We are having a discussion, Pyre—one that is crucial to your understanding and development. Maybe I can frame it this way: accept now that you are at the mercy of this bullshit—the pantheons and their factions, the wars, the likelihood of your fate. Accept it. Do that now. Then, and only then, can you begin the process of putting the puzzle together, of understanding the true power of Defiance, and how you could actually use it.”

“And end up like you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“On the fringe,” Pyre said, gesturing toward the stained window, “glaring at the shining city beyond, bitter about something he understands yet too cowardly to do something about it.”

The Shepherd grinned, baring his teeth. “You are an asshole, Pyre, which describes your Domain and makes you more useful than you think.”

“More useful?” Pyre asked, his shoulders relaxing despite himself.

Is he complimenting me now? he wondered.

“You might stand there thinking I’m not doing my part, that I’m simply watching,” the Shepherd said calmly, “but that would be a mistake. I am watching what comes next, which realm falls. That much is true. And when I can, I disrupt the factions and the greater pantheons while I search for the answers I need. I recruit those without a place and sometimes those who had one and rejected it. Together, we work to bring the system down methodically, in a way that it pays little attention to us.”

“What do you mean when you say I’m useful?”

“Defiance complicates survival, yet it’s also the main ingredient to any revolution. Your true usefulness remains to be seen—that’s what I’m trying to say here, Pyre. There is much to learn, and if what I am tracking turns out to be correct, not a lot of time to learn it.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t trust you enough to explain it. Not yet. Instead,” the Shepherd said, his eyes shifting to the door behind him, “I’d like to introduce you to some people. After that, you can leave and decide what you want to do next. Come on in,” he called out. “Meet Pyre, from—where were you from again?”

“Farreach.”

“Meet Pyre of Farreach,” the Shepherd said as figures began to enter the room. “His Domain is Defiance, if you can believe that.”

Pyre ignored the Shepherd and turned toward the newcomers instead. If they were here to judge him, they could do it to his face.