Chapter 32

What could it mean? The question followed Pyre into sleep and back out of it again, lingering in the quiet space between drifting and waking.Another question joined it, heavier, more insistent, impossible to ignore.

Why did the Swordsman do it? Why me? Was it really to save me? How is this saving me?

By the time Pyre was fully awake, he understood enough to know the act itself wasn’t the mystery. He had crossed paths with one of the First Gods while holding the Sigil of a fallen angel. Gaius had killed him and yet had spared him long enough to give him a direction. Find the Shepherd.

There had to be a reason for that mercy. Something deliberate. It couldn’t just be chance.

Once again, the common area was empty when he stepped out of his room. During the night, someone had reset the table, the plates neatly placed, utensils aligned with unnecessary precision. Food sat untouched, warmth still clinging to it, thin threads of steam barely visible in the air, and unopened bottles of wine reflected the light. It all felt staged.

Pyre frowned and turned away, heading downstairs toward Balefor’s voice.

The lion-man stood near the door, speaking with a short attendant, the same man who had been there the night before when they returned from the Shepherd’s manor.

Balefor turned as Pyre approached. “Pyre,” he said, a grim smile on his face.

“Did Kesh—”

“Take a sponsorship? No, no, nothing like that. He spent the night at the Font. Our friendly bard meant it when he said he could meditate for long stretches of time. I should have never doubted him. Well,” Balefor told the attendant near the exit, “we’re ready. Although, I think we can find our way.” His nose twitched. “I have a knack for directions.”

The man inclined his head and gestured for them to continue on.

The pair walked in silence until they were halfway down the next corridor, Aevum’s echoes muted by stone. “Not a bad guy, really,” Balefor said, pointing a thumb back toward the attendant he had been speaking to. “Brother Gill. He is from the same realm as Anru. Remember him?”

“I do,” Pyre said. “The first of us to go.”

“Yes, sadly. But there are more Unclaimed, you know. Brother Gill said that they trickle in daily. They’re just in different parts of this complex. It’s quite large, and the Ledger Kin remain committed to bringing them up to speed. Although I still don’t quite see what they get out of it. Maybe they’re not a bad faction to join, actually, one that does something for the good.”

“For the good of the factions,” Pyre reminded him.

“True, true. I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Did you see Sister Halcyon this morning?” Pyre asked.

“Yes, but only briefly. She went to the Font to get Kesh. He should be joining us, unless he refuses to break meditation or something.” Balefor slowed as they reached the door leading to the training ground. He stopped there and turned to Pyre. “One thing.”

“Yes?”

“Pyre, I like you. Dare I say I consider you a friend. But you need to be honest with me.”

Pyre felt a flicker of tension. “Honest about what?”

“The Shepherd told you something last night, but you never told me what that was.”

Relief washed through Pyre, quick and unexpected. “Sorry,” he said. “It came as a shock to me, and I was thinking about it on our walk back. That man who raided my realm… wasn’t just a normal ascended. The Shepard believes he might have been one of the First Gods. Someone named Gaius.”

Balefor’s eyebrows rose. “That is an interesting development. What does it mean to be sent here by a First God?”

“That’s a question I’ve been asking myself all night.”

“Well, I suppose there’s more to it than that. Gaius only sparked your journey. You survived the Shriving on your own, Pyre, and your Sigil is solid. Broken, but solid. Never forget that. But why did he do it?” Balefor brought a hand to his chin, claws brushing through his mane.

“Another question I’ve been wondering.”

“They say truth has a habit of existing in plain sight. Think of it like this: what else was he to do? Gaius had clearly gotten to your realm before the other factions and took its heart. What good would it have done to keep you around? You said that your world was destroyed anyway. Maybe Gaius showed you his jilted version of mercy. And he did tell you to find the Shepherd, did he not?”

“He did.”

“Then again, perhaps he assumed you wouldn’t survive the Shriving, especially if you knew nothing about it; that, or he knows something we don’t know.” Balefor laughed bitterly, and Pyre couldn’t help but join him.

“Also a possibility.”

“Verily so. And I can see why it kept you up. It seems everyone here knows something we don’t know. As for your first question, what does it mean to be sent here by a First God? Perhaps nothing or maybe everything. But it is strange. And here I thought the Shepherd told you to never bring me by his manor again. Ha!”

“Believe it or not, he was actually nicer to you than he was to me in our first meeting. And no, he only asked about your personality and said you were welcome to join them tonight.”

“To head out of Aevum, huh?” Balefor licked his lips as he considered this. “What do you think? Will you be joining them?”

“Still deciding. But I might. I really might.”

“Well, if you decide to go, I will join you.” Balefor exhaled deeply and reached for the door. “We could use a little excitement in our lives, no? All training and no play really has a way of taking the joy out of dying.”

They entered the training ground to find Kesh already on the platform, a cheery smile on his face. Sister Halcyon stood at the back, speaking quietly with a cluster of attendants. There was something different about the bard now, a faint glow to him as he spoke, an ease that hadn’t been there before.

“I was wondering when you two would come,” Kesh said. “And here I thought I was going to have to fight myself.” He swept his hand to the other side of the platform. “Join me, will you?”

“You are eager today,” Balefor said as he moved into place. “I’m surprised they woke you from your meditation.”

“All it took was a poke.”

“It takes more than that; I tried that last night.”

“What can I say?” Kesh said. “Sister Halcyon can be persuasive when she wants to be.”

“So you meditated all night?” Pyre asked the bard.

“Ah, that. There’s a distinct note between meditation and sleep; I simply tuned myself to it. I believe I spoke of this possibility before. Well then,” Kesh said, lifting his chin slightly. “Shall we?”

The lute appeared in his hands. It was still translucent, the familiar glasslike body catching the light, yet something had changed. A thin outline of gold traced the instrument’s curves, every string faintly glowing.

Balefor moved first, as he always did.

The lion-man surged forward with his greataxe, boots cracking against the stone platform as momentum carried him into a wide, brutal swing with his Sigil meant to end the fight quickly.

Standing back, Pyre’s broken blade took shape in the palm of his hand. The whispers intensified immediately, seizing and overlapping as flames climbed the weapon, licking along the fractured edge, heat radiating into his palm and forearm. Pyre steadied his breathing, locking his focus inward.

He planned to move on Kesh the same way he had yesterday—disrupting Harmony by disrupting his own cadence—but every time he came forward, Pyre was swept back by the bard’s wave of sound, which slammed into him without warning, not loud but dense, a pressure made physical.

Pyre staggered, boots scraping stone as he barely kept his footing. He adjusted his approach, changing angle, timing, rhythm as another wave struck him.

Kesh remained at the center of the platform, brighter than ever, an even bigger grin stretched across his face as he prevented both Balefor and Pyre from landing a single strike.

The air around the bard shimmered, vibrating in visible ripples, a faint corona of light gathering above his head, each note reinforcing the space around his body.

Pyre doubled down.

He opened a wound on his hand, the blade biting into his palm. Pain flared sharp and immediate, blood spilling freely between his fingers. His heartbeat jumped in response, faster, harder. A new rhythm to follow.

Balefor took the initial charge again.

Pyre moved sporadically, bursting forward and back in erratic patterns, timing his steps between pulses of sound, slipping through the spaces Kesh left behind. Flames surged around him as he pressed closer.

A targeted blast of noise hit the lion-man squarely, sharper than the others, focused and brutal.

The lion-man’s Sigil vanished mid-swing, the greataxe dissolving as Balefor collapsed to the platform, hands clamped over his ears. He rolled instinctively, muscles tightening as the sound tore through him.

Pyre slipped forward, flames climbing, heat roaring around him as he closed the distance. Kesh was so light-filled now that Pyre could no longer make out the details of his face, just the outline of the bard’s body and the golden edges of the lute burning brighter with every note.

It was only later that Pyre would remember seeing the attendants moving in at the edges of the space, concern etched into their expressions.

The same sound that brought Balefor down struck Pyre next.

This time, it hit him directly.

The impact lifted Pyre off his feet and hurled him backward. He landed near the edge of the platform, skidding hard across the stone as his ears rang violently. The world narrowed to a shrill, hollow tone that swallowed everything else.

Pyre fought through the disorienting sound to look up at Kesh, who had fallen to his knees.

Light swelled around the bard, pulsing outward in uneven waves, then released all at once. Kesh’s eyes rolled back, the glow intensifying until it completely overwhelmed his form. His Sigil froze in his hand mid-strum, every string locked in place.

Then, he toppled sideways.

“Kesh—” Balefor shouted, stumbling forward despite himself.

Sister Halcyon shouted something Pyre couldn’t hear as she flowed onto the platform with the attendants, a wash of robes flaring behind her.

Pyre pushed himself to his feet, unsteady, vision swimming.

The ringing hadn’t stopped. He pressed his uncut hand to his ear and pulled it away, palm slick with blood. Gritting his teeth, determined to check on his friend, Pyre shouldered forward and joined Balefor just as Sister Halcyon spoke again, her voice muffled through the noise in his head.

“Back!” Halcyon said again, her words finally breaking through as Pyre’s hearing returned. “Both of you, stay back. Kesh has triggered his Domain Trial. We will take it from here.”

“Like hell, you will—” Balefor said, starting forward.

Pyre caught him, bracing his weight against the lion-man’s chest. “We can’t interfere,” he said, his own voice sounding distant, wrong. “We can’t.”

“Pyre, move now or—”

“Balefor, no. Domain Trial. He has started his Trial. Listen to me, man!”

Balefor took a big breath and backed down, his mane bristling before slowly settling as Pyre held his ground. “Fuck,” he finally said.

“Clear the space,” Sister Halcyon ordered as attendants appeared with a stretcher—something Pyre had seen leaning against the wall before but never questioned. “We will protect Rinpoche Kesh during this process.” Her eyes locked onto Balefor. “Whatever happens next is his to face alone.”