Zora walked slowly down the gangplank. Partly because of her drunkenness, and partly because of depression. The whoops and cheers from the ship were weighing so heavily on her heart. She saw Cayd standing, chatting with a paladin on the pier below. It made her sick.

  The sun was setting over the city, casting everything in orange twilight. The final night of her freedom. But at least she wasn’t dead? At least that sea monster would not be able to get to her now? At least she would have company while she endured the scorn of the Sun Goddess.

  “Captain,” Johnston threw a loud whisper to Zora as he worked past the crew and onto the gangplank. “Before you go,” he said softly, pushing a wooden box into her hands. “He left it with me last night.”

  Zoras breath caught. “Tidus, you idiot,” she muttered as she turned the box for a closer look. Two dolphins were carved haphazardly into its lid, the quality you would expect from the underside of a teenager’s writing desk. The lopsided heart they formed, though she tried to bite it back, made Zora smile.

  She quietly opened the box and felt the tears begin to well up. A necklace rested on a small velvet pillow with a wadded up piece of paper beside it. As a pendant there was a small glass vial, the chain of the necklace clamped to the neck. The vial was full of vibrant sea water, and bobbing around inside was a glowing god’s tear.

  Scrawled on the paper was Tidus’s last message before her punishment was to begin. “This tear was from the avatar I formed to save you. Wear it and it will be as though I am with you. But only wear it at night, please.”

  ---

  Zarraz watched the chaos unfurl as his undead soldiers began slicing and ripping through the crowd. He had a proud grin as the catoblepas turned civilians to stone, and strained to keep from cheering out loud when he saw one of the former Wrath Liches plunge their knife into someone. People began screaming and running, bumping into him and pushing him to get past to safety.

  “Zarraz, you need to escape,” the voice of the King’s Shade cut through the cacophony.

  “What? Why?”Zarraz asked, shifting his weight and lifting onto his tip-toes to try and watch his warriors.

  “Matthew is doomed. He is drunk on his own power. There is no way he will make it to the crypt.”

  “Hmm,” Zarraz thought, giving up on watching his underlings. He turned against the flow of the crowd and saw the shadowy visage of the King’s Shade. “Probably should have worked a little harder at keeping my guys secret?”

  “There is nothing you could have done. The Church of the Will was ready for him.”

  “Strange,” Zarraz observed.

  “Move, Zarraz. You will be trampled here.”

  “Uh, right!” Zarraz looked backward just in time to see his catoblepas sling two bodies into the air. “But my god tears?”

  “Zarraz! I will get you more. Just leave!” The King’s Shade’s voice was louder and more threatening that Zarraz had heard, urging him to motion. The greasy Gavundari pushed through the god’s avatar and began forcing his way against the panicking crowd to get back out of the main gate of The Throne.

  ---

  Wesley nervously looked into the glowing mass of druids, grove masters, and other significant characters of the Verdant Grove as they waited for the Chief’s address. Lady sat at his heels, peering through the crowd.

  The crowd went silent as three figures, each glowing a different shade of green formed in the center of the ring-shaped group. One was the towering avatar of Talnorel. Another was an older woman Wesley did not recognize. The third was Wesley’s mother, the Living Chief Ashleigh Maplegrove.

  “Thank you for coming here today. Short notice I know, but I am sure you all will want to hear this,” Ashleigh said, looking out into the Verdant Dream forms of her followers. “For those of you who do not recognize the woman with the Treemother and myself, she is Gretta Knotwood. A primary agent in the aging Talnorel Alliance during the war against Dorvan and the Wrath Liches. She was offered as an ambassador to a Church of the Will outpost, and-” Ashleigh caught herself. “Actually, I will let her tell you the story.”

  Gretta stepped forward with a humble smile. “Thank you Chief. As the Chief was saying, I live at a Church of the Will outpost keeping safe one of their most delicate and powerful relics. Four days ago, the relic was stolen.”

  The crowd muttered, but Gretta continued. “Yes, yes, what does a stolen Church relic have to do with us? Did I tell them their treasures were stolen? Well, to answer the questions, it has a lot to do with us, and yes I did. They are handling it accordingly, and now we must handle our half of the problem accordingly.”

  Gretta turned and took a deep breath. “We apprehended one of the thieves They had used a lockpicker weed to work the magic lock on the relic, and when I asked who they had gotten the plant from, she told me ‘a druid named Gideon.’”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  The crowd began to churn and Wesley’s heart suddenly sank. Even through the glow of all of the other druids from around the world, he could see straight into his mother’s discomfort with the announcement. Neither of them ever thought Gideon would resurface after his betrayal and murder of Wesley’s father.

  ---

  “Paladin, the woman is a danger. Remove your hands.” Abraham’s commands were biting. Sam released Kaitlyn and backed up. He had no idea what to do but just listened to orders. He watched, sick to his stomach, as Flametongue reached into the gore to recover the Halcyon Band.

  Kaitlyn was too traumatized to look at him, or even Captain Starlight as the paladin arrested her.

  “Do you have somewhere else to be?” the priest asked Sam as he watched.

  “She didn’t do anything. She was trying to stop it.”

  “She did a terrible job.”

  “Look, she tried to help.”

  “And we will find out if that is true. We are the Inquisitors after all. I ask you again, do you have somewhere else to be? Or do you just not have any duties or orders today?”

  Sam looked at the looming Inquisitor, said nothing, and began walking slowly back to where he had left Shiner and his sister.

  Jane was on the ground, coughing up pebbles still, but the scales of stone had luckily flaked off. The stabbed man had still not recovered consciousness. Jane looked up with relief at Sam, but did not venture to speak.

  “Is it over?” Shiner asked.

  “Yeah, it’s over,” Sam replied.

  “Where’s Kaitlyn?”

  “She’s being taken in.”

  Shiner looked down, and after waiting what he felt was an appropriate length of time, he looked up with a smile. “So what were they like?”

  “Who?”

  “The inquisitors, Sammy!”

  Sam sighed and looked back up the hall. The clergy members informed of the safety were beginning to mill around, looking for injured and beginning the clean up. “Ruthless.”

  Shiner grinned in admiration while Sam struggled to swallow.

  ---

  Petra looked south down the bridge to Talnorel where the late morning sun was casting everything with a foreign, warm light.

  “Why are you leaving, Winter’s Daughter?” one of the tribe’s children asked.

  “Because I didn’t listen to my dad, little one,” Petra said with a smile.

  Ymir beamed at his daughter. “What do you plan on doing once you get across the bridge? Just fight the first lava woman you find?”

  Petra laughed, trying to fight back the tears. Spending winter with the tribe meant they had become her family. And now, because of her own youthful pride, she was being sent away. But she made a promise. She would do whatever she needed to to keep the tribe safe.

  “I’m going to start by finding out why the Church abandoned their promise.”

  “A good place to begin.” Ymir said with a nod. He turned back to the barbarians. “So, is a new home a good gift?”

  The barbarians, children and adults alike, shouted in thanks.

  “Then, now that you all are home, I will return to mine,” the god said with a chuckle. “Wish my daughter luck!”

  Petra watched her father’s avatar crumble to powdery snow and blow away over the chasm as the faith of the barbarians lit up in her heart.

  ---

  It was such a peculiar situation all around. Passage with the Coastal Dispatch was a peculiarity. And now the throne had sent Maribel a special passenger carriage to return her to her post at Back City. Her temporary duty of acting as primary interrogator for the Sea Witch was complete, and now she was headed home.

  The priestess was curious if it had anything to do with the relic attack on The Throne’s grand hall. But that sort of thing was what Inquisitors were for. Sitting on the plush seat and looking out of the gold-trimmed window at the March passing by outside, Maribel dismissed the idea.

  She ran her thumbs over the handkerchief High Sergeant Boldbounty had given her as she packed her things. She watched the fields roll past, feeling slightly sad to be missing the motley bunch.

  She still could not get past the quiet, mysterious send off they had given to Cayd and Zora the morning after the failed execution.

  When Maribel’s thumb caught on a loop of thread, she reflexively grinned. She looked at the handkerchief and, without looking up, she reached into a handbag under the carriage seat for a small, silver pen-like instrument with a needle on the end.

  She got to work picking and shifting the threads on the handkerchief, her mouth moving in the shape of words she read.

  Little Sister,

  I know it is not quite protocol to deliver a missive to you directly, but these are extenuating circumstances. As I had told you shortly after your arrival that I was looking into information for our friend. Well, I was also using our resources to find information on our friend.

  Cayd Zahid was the court magus of the Gavundar King. Why did I let him waltz off with the pirate as I did? Remember Solana’s reaction when she heard that name. He is a man unlike any we have seen here in Talnorel. I will reach our network to make sure eyes are kept on him and watch for any strange moves he makes.

  But in summation, Cayd is a frightening man. One that gods fear, or at least have a distinct distaste for. I have sent another missive ahead to the Kind Countess. She will be happy to see you upon your return to discuss these events.

  On any account, I wish you a safe and comfortable journey!

  Regards,

  Fatherly General