Chapter 57

Pyre continued his search with one hand held out before him, his Sigil lighting the way in a steady white blaze. The other hand cupped his mouth as he shouted into the torn expanse beyond.

“Balefor!”

His voice carried farther than he expected, echoing strangely across drifting stone and fractured landmasses. He did not care who heard him.

If he’s conscious, if he’s still alive, he’ll hear me. I just have to keep searching.

The drifting remnants of the destroyed realm had thinned. What had been a blinding storm of detritus was now a slow, ghostly fall of glowing fragments. Larger chunks had already settled or collided with distant masses. The air still shimmered with residual Anima, but visibility was returning.

And with it, more battles.

Pyre could see the clashes in the distance now. Winged figures collided at impossible speeds, their blades leaving streaks of light across the dark. Others bounded across the spongy surface between landmasses, each impact sending ripples through the Deep Nether’s strange terrain. A pair of combatants tore through a floating slab, shattering it into luminous rubble before vanishing in another burst of power.

He stayed clear of it all.

“Balefor!” he called again, his attention drawing to a figure suspended midair in the distance, radiant and terrible.

Is that Karastella?

The name rose unbidden, and with it came a sharp twist of rage. The silhouette matched the posture he remembered. The bearing. The authority. But she was too far away to be certain.

If it is her, she’s a Divine Being. Three or more Domains mastered, he reminded himself.

Pyre stopped walking, the anger surging despite himself. His grip tightened around his Sigil. The flame flared in response, growing denser, brighter.

He forced himself to breathe, and as he lowered his gaze, something strange caught his eye.

His fingers.

The tips of them had blurred. For an instant, they frayed into drifting ash before snapping back into solid flesh. He jerked his hand up, staring at it. “What’s this?”

He tried again, and nothing happened.

Pyre dismissed his Sigil and resummoned it. Ash spiraled along his arm in a tight helix before coalescing into the broken blade and igniting into white flame.

The ash lingered longer this time before dispersing.

It has to have something to do with my Domain. Pyre shook his head sharply and turned away from the distant battle. I’ll figure it out later.

He shouted Balefor’s name again, pushing forward until he reached a new landmass and climbed onto it, boots scraping against rough stone. From this higher vantage point, he could see Veylan’s beacon behind him, its blue-green column steady against the dark. Beyond it, other beacons had ignited across the Deep Nether—red, gold, violet.

Everyone’s being called back. And yet the fighting continues…

Pyre crested a lip of stone and paused once he heard a faint rustling. “Balefor!” he called again, stepping toward the sound.

A winged shape shifted in the dark.

“Dammit,” Pyre breathed, raising his Sigil, prepared for the encounter.

The woman descended in a controlled glide, robes flowing around her as if caught in a private current of wind. Gold-trimmed armor gleamed faintly in the dim light. A pair of elegant handfans rested in her grip.

Pyre recognized her instantly.

Lady Freja landed lightly, a soft gust spreading out from her feet as she studied him. “I know you,” she said, voice calm and melodic.

“Pyre,” he said, Sigil at the ready. “We met in Aevum. You showed us the Hollow.”

“Yes, your first night out,” she said, taking him in curiously. “You and the lion fellow. Another woman, darker in nature than the two of you.”

“Marrowsven. She’s still with us.”

“With you?” The wind lifted Lady Freja’s yellow hair gently. “You have chosen a faction, yet you wear no marker.”

“No.” Pyre kept his blade up, white flames steady. “I remain Unclaimed. But I have come here with the Unmoored.”

She smiled faintly. “Ah, the Unmoored. And how is he? The lovable old beast.”

“Who?” Pyre asked, not certain if she was referring to Balefor or not.

“The Shepherd and his brooding company, the ones you have joined. How is he? Still irritable, still scheming all the time?”

“Yeah,” Pyre said.

“I wouldn’t say he’s poached some of ours in the past,” she mused. “They have free will and a man’s melancholy can be enticing. Perhaps by design.” She tilted her head. “So. You, the lion-man—”

“Balefor.”

“Yes. That was his name. A promising Domain, if memory serves.” Lady Freja’s gaze returned to Pyre’s blade. “You three came here with the Unmoored.”

“We did.”

“And now you are alone.”

Pyre dipped his head slightly, then lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I need you to know now that I don’t want to fight you, Lady Freja, but if I’m forced to, I will. I just want to find Balefor.”

“You?” She lifted one fan to partially cover her face. “Fight me?” She lowered it and studied his Sigil more closely. “That is not a Sigil I’ve seen before. A broken one. There was once a member of the Heavenly Host with a flaming sword, however.”

“Daedalus,” Pyre said.

“You knew him?”

“No, the sword belonged to him,” Pyre admitted to her.

“I thought as much.”

“The Hunger destroyed my realm. He tried to save it, but Karastella didn’t let him. He killed himself, breaking the weapon but not shattering it. I picked it up.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of such a thing. And here you are, alone in the Deep Nether. “The wind shifted around Lady Freja, subtle but attentive. “Like many in my pantheon, I’ve never been fond of the Heavenly Host. I despise them, really. But Daedalus once did me a favor, and I think it is only fair considering you somehow wield his blade that I extend that courtesy to you.”

Pyre did not lower his Sigil.

“We’re not going to fight,” she said flatly. “It would be unfair to you. And not much of a challenge for me.” A faint smile touched her lips. “From your posture, I assume your time in the Deep Nether hasn’t been pleasant.”

“It hasn’t.”

“Well, know this: not all of us are monsters.” She flicked one fan open and closed it once. The wind around them stilled entirely. “Most of us are, but not all. You believe Balefor is in this area?”

“Yes. Marrow said he was nearby. I need to get him back to the Unmoored’s gate.”

Lady Freja turned her attention outward, the faintest curl of air shifting around her. She raised one of her handfans to her lips and whispered Balefor’s name.With a sudden gesture she extended her other fan, still folded, and slowly opened it as if drawing a curtain aside. She angled it slightly, guiding the word away.

“This way,” she said, stepping aside and gesturing for Pyre to follow her. “I’ve already found him.”