Chapter 47

The three Unclaimed approached the Named Mothers with caution.

Saejin stood there calmly as ever, the man’s eyes shut as always, his fully formed Sigil hovering above his head. He was joined by a pair of muscled women with heavy braids and a man with hooved feet and horns curling up from his skull.

“Come,” the man said, gesturing them forward as he stepped to the side.

There was an Anima lantern nearby, one unlike any Pyre had seen before. The glowing sphere of power was held inside an interlocking containment frame, bands of metal and symbol-etched segments holding it in place. It hovered just like the Shepherd’s lanterns had, but it looked much stronger.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Balefor asked, the lion-man bristling some, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

“Saejin recognizes you all,” the man with horns said as the light from Saejin’s Sigil faded. “He tells us that you were part of his group of Unclaimed.” The man bowed his head. “I am Tristan of the Named Mothers. This is Cinder,” he said, motioning to one of the women, “and Lina. We are already aware of your names, titles, and Domains.” 

“How? Can you actually talk to him?” Balefor asked Tristan.

“We can, yes. Saejin speaks through images that he’s able to project into your mind. He has shown us who you are, and we, the Named Mothers, welcome you to recover your Anime before you make your way toward the center of the collapse. It will begin shortly.”

Saejin’s Sigil was Perception… Pyre remembered how the Named Mothers had been interested in him the moment they saw the robed man. Was this why? He glanced again at the eye, which had dimmed but remained in place, fully tangible, an indication that he had passed his Domain Trial.

“I’m sorry,” Balefor told Tristan. “Are you saying what just happened wasn’t the realm collapse?”

“What do you mean?”

Balefor gestured behind him. “We were blown out here by something.”

“Ah that,” Tristan said. “The Shearfall. It happens when larger realms collapse, not every time, and it’s impossible to predict. The actual collapse, the one that will trigger war, has yet to begin.”

“Aside from being an acquaintance of Saejin, why would you help us?” Marrowsven asked.

“That is our creed,” Tristan explained, Lina beside him nodding in agreement. “The Named Mothers help those who have found themselves outside of the bounds of the warzone. It is why we value a Domain like Saejin’s, and it’s also why we’re offering you a moment to refill your Anima.”

That answers one of my questions, Pyre thought as Balefor continued.

“Why would you do something so charitable?” the lion-man asked. “Are you like the Ledger Kin?”

“That’s one way to see it,” Tristan said. “The factions we assist compensate us in resources. They have for a long time. That’s why we exist. We’re utilitarian in that sense. They fight, we recover those we can, and we’re rewarded for the work.” His tone shifted, growing more serious. “But the three of you aren’t part of any recognized faction. Otherwise, you would have some insignia.”

“We have joined the Unmoored for this trip,” Marrowsven said.

“Ah,” he said, the two women speaking quietly beside him. “The Unmoored. That would explain it and…” Tristan paused and nodded. “Yes, Saejin did reveal this to us, we just didn’t interpret it correctly.

“We were with them before the Shearfall,” Balefor said. “Got in a fight with the Synod of Yore, and we ended up here after everything settled.” He gestured around. “Wherever here is.”

Tristan exchanged glances with Cinder and Lina. He never looked at Saejin, whose attention remained fixed on the three of them.

“You fought the Synod?” he asked at last.

“We did, six of them. This one killed two of them,” Balefor told Tristan, hooking a thumb toward Pyre.

“I had help both times—”

“Two of them?” Tristan asked Pyre as he placed a hand on the back of his head. “That’s incredible. Two Synod down is two we won’t have to deal with. They are a threat to us, a constant thorn in our mission, especially with our operation on the outskirts of the fight and their desire to enslave weak souls.”

“They were pretty insistent on their doctrine,” Marrowsven said.

“Believe me, I know,” he said. “But please, sit, have some Anima. We were going to allow you to replenish your Anima anyway considering you are Saejin’s friends, but now, I really don’t know what to say. The Named Mothers owes you.” He gestured toward the spherical lantern. “We will guard you. And we may have some questions.”

“Thank you,” Pyre said, finally letting go of the tension coursing through him. “And thank you, Saejin.”

Saejin took a step forward and extended a hand to Pyre.

The man took it, and the instant he did, images flooded his vision: he saw himself seated at the Font; making the walk past the Hollow to the manor; Saejin standing at the gates and looking up at them, satisfied.

Pyre didn’t know how he could tell Saejin was satisfied, but he could—he could sense that his own progress pleased the strange man in some way. Through Saejin’s power, he also saw the other Unclaimed, moments where Saejin had watched them from afar, not intrusively, but attentively.

There was nothing malicious in it. Only concern. Only care. Pyre understood then why Saejin had joined the Named Mothers, and he wanted to know more. He was just about to tell him this when Saejin simply released his hand and offered it to Balefor.

Balefor took it, and his blue eyes widened for a moment as he came to understand what Saejin had seen of him. Balefor said a few things under his breath, raised a finger as if he was going to ask something, but by this point, as he had with Pyre, Saejin moved to Marrowsven.

She hesitated at first but finally extended her clawed hand. Rather than look surprised, she stared Saejin down, as if daring him to pry deeply. He released her hand and stepped back.

“Good, good,” Tristan said. “Please, this way.”

He guided the three of them around the spherical Anima lantern. Once he was settled, Pyre closed his eyes and felt its power seep into him, steady and patient. Along with it came a sense of longing he couldn’t quite explain, a desire to once again sit before the Font of Eternity.

As much as he still disliked what the Font represented, Pyre knew the relic itself bore no responsibility for the faction wars. It was only a tool, a massive artifact left behind by the First Realm.

No, he thought, just like the politics of Farreach and the other colonies, these wars are being waged by people hungry for power, or ideals, or some tangled combination of both. It is your Defiance that pushes back against this simple truth.

Pyre let his thoughts settle there. He knew that pushing deeper wouldn’t give him answers—not yet. Whatever clarity he was searching for lay ahead, not behind. It would come with his Domain Trial. It would start there. It would start with fully realizing his Sigil.

He noticed a presence and opened his eyes to see Saejin seated near him. The man, who rarely showed emotion, wore a faint smile, one that calmed Pyre without effort.

“You should have seen Kesh,” Balefor said, breaking from his meditation to address Saejin. “He figured it out. I’ve never been prouder. The bard went from desperate for a drink to triggering his Domain Trial in a matter of nights. And the way he wields that lute—who would have thought Harmony could carry such force?”

“It’s a very powerful thing,” Marrowsven said, still seated with her eyes closed. “It’s an honorable Domain to have, and I look forward to seeing him when we get back.”

“He has to survive his Trial first,” Balefor reminded her.

“I have no doubt he will.”

“Same,” Pyre said. “Kesh will do it, and then who knows where he’ll go next.”

“He’ll be with us,” Balefor said. “Call it my sixth sense.”

“You can smell him from here?” Marrowsven asked.

Balefor laughed and reined himself in. “Apologies. This is supposed to be a calm, contemplative moment. Sorry, Saejin,” he told the silent man.

“I feel better already,” Pyre said. “Just a bit of Anima is more than enough.”

“But you should sit a bit longer,” Tristan said, stepping away from his conversation with the two women. “You still have a journey ahead of you before you reach the main fight. The one coming down was an especially old realm, and the most important part has yet to fall.”

“But it has started, right?” Pyre asked. “And we’re going in the right direction?”

“Smaller fights have begun as claimfields are sorted out, yes. But the main battle hasn’t started yet. Once it does, the pantheons clash, camp, search for resources, gain territory, and clash again until either one pantheon is left, which leaves the factions within to fight until one triumphs.”

Tristan gestured vaguely toward the darkness beyond the lantern’s glow.

“Factions leave when they’ve taken enough, lost enough, or decided it will cost too much to stay.” He nodded toward the lantern. “So rest a bit more. I assume you’re not here to fight, considering two of your Sigils are unformed.”

“That’s the plan,” Balefor said. “But we’ve already been in more battles than we expected. And I’d wager there are more to come. Best to do this right, eh, Saejin?” he asked the silent man. When he didn’t speak or make any indication of what he was thinking, Balefor spoke for him. “He agrees with me.”

“One more thing to consider,” Tristan told them. “The realm itself will be encased by a large sphere of Anima, which many refer to as a bubble. Once that is visible and once it breaks—that is when the fighting really begins. But your focus should be on navigating the claimfields. The factions send out novitiates to challenge anyone who comes in the space they have claimed. You’ll be heading right through some of these claimfields, no matter which way you go.”

“So that’s what they were doing,” Pyre said to the others, “when we were exploring.”

“The Unmoored, be it a faction or not, operate like us,” Tristan told them. “On the outskirts of the claimfields or at the border between two factions so Unmoored can do what they’ve done since as long as I remember—slip through the cracks.”

“So we try to circle around the claimfields, then,” Balefor said, “rather than go right through them.”

“Yes, but you have no navigational tools to help you do that,” Tristen told them, “and we have none to spare. So you’ll have to note the position of their banners when you come to them. I’m assuming you’re relying on their gate.”

“We are,” Marrowsven said.

“You could always use our gate once the realm has collapsed fully and everything has settled.” He looked the three of them over. “But something tells me that you three are up for the challenge. You came out here to learn, did you not?”

“That’s right,” Pyre said, not denying the man’s claim.

“Trial by fire it is. My best suggestion to you would be to look for banners. Once you see them, try to move as best you can to the left or the right until you reach another banner. Do you happen to remember any of the banners you saw before the first part of the realm collapsed was triggered?”

“The Butcher’s Court and the Heavenly Host,” Pyre told Tristan, instantly understanding what this could mean for the three Unclaimed. “Our gate isn’t far from there.”

“Good. Try to find one of their claimfields and keep to its outer edge. And just in case you need to be told, no, the factions you encounter probably won’t take kindly to you simply asking directions as a war fast approaches. Please,” Tristan said, returning his focus to the lantern, “refill your Anima. And feel free to discuss my offer of staying with us among yourselves. Now is not a time to be reckless.”