A Realm Reborn

[MathLuk]

The Edge

VIKSTEN, KINGDOM OF DRAVANIA

The good news was Thordan did not have to worry about dying in the box. Isangrim had been placed in another one, just to relieve some of his pressure.

The bad news was that Thordan was in unknown territory, locked up in a barrel (which was much, much smaller than the chest he was locked in) with only his left footpaw sticking out, and could only listen to what was happening to the outside world.

He was still bound, gagged and naked to the fur, and no chamber pot was offered to him. As a consequence too obvious, he was stinking in this enclosed space, and Thordan knew not which was worse, the former or the latter.

The container was only opened for Captain Bodvar or Birger to untie his muzzle and pour water in - food was a thing of the past, and he would have done anything for it. The otterlord's grandfather had taught him that a beast could survive without food for three whole weeks, but Thordan just knew that he wouldn't live to see a second week - not literally nor figuratively.

At least they have stopped moving the barrel. Bodvar told him that nobeast but the four who transported him knew he was here, though the same could not be said for Isangrim. The otter captain also asked too many questions, even non-rhetorical ones. But then, he forgot that Thordan was gagged every twenty minutes, so there's that.

Pawsteps. Thordan heard pawsteps. Pawsteps usually meant that somebeast was approaching his barrel. That same somebeast who would proceed to do unspeakable things to him - his last drink (which, for some reason, was much, much larger than the ones preceding it) had just been a mere two hours ago.

He had not given up hope of escape yet - Swalestroms were not supposed to be afraid. Though there were many, many things that made his blood turn as cold as a river in winter, including approaching pawsteps, and he was totally terrified, yet decided to act brave anyways.

But those same pawsteps stopped, and Thordan could smell nothing other than the usual stench of his excretions - that, he had got used to, at least. And as the brave face melted, he realised that scared him all the more.

Then the rushing sound of water. No liquid seeped into his confines, but it did not take a second guess that they were planning something sinister for him, though what exactly it was was unknown to him, adding to the otter's confusion.

Why were they doing this anyway? What on earth did I do to them? What did I do to deserve all of this torture?

He got his answer as something creeped up his footpaw. A cold sensation crawled up onto his pawpad, and Thordan shivered. Water, he hoped it was. If not, then what?

Then after the cold came the heat. The barrel (and Thordan) was carried to the fireplace, and Thordan made no resistance. Resistance usually meant foolishness, and foolishness usually meant more torture, torture which may actually draw blood. And for the next thirty or so minutes, Thordan sweated and baked in the barrel. It was not as worse than the box, with Isangrim absent, but his nose was assaulted by stenches of all sorts.

"Well, you've been sitting here in silence for all too long, pup." Bodvar. He started to act weirder every time his voice was heard. But why?

Forgetting that he was still gagged, Thordan tried to speak, but the only things he produced were a muffled growl and a horrible sinking feeling.

"Is it sensitive enough?" A voice. Not Bodvar - the mouse, perhaps? Or the younger otter? Thordan's mind swam.

"I think so." That was Bodvar.

Before Thordan could guess what 'it' meant, a paw crept up onto his footpaw. Then another one. Thordan was sick of physical contact, but he can do nothing but whine at the familiar, unwelcome touch.

Then the tickling began. Twin paws worked themselves over the balls of his footpaw, creating an itching sensation, almost painful, that was impossible to ignore. Before long, his remaining resistance crumbled, and he laughed.

Or at least he tried to. He was still gagged, so a few sniggers cae out, but they were swiftly replaced by an attempted roar of pain.

"MMMMPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHH!" Thordan struggled. The saltwater and the heat made his footpaws all too sensitive, and his tormentors were all too ready to take advantage of it.

Not the pawpads, Thordan thought, not the pawpads... but he could do nothing as they went for them. Thordan screamed again, tasting blood at the back of his throat. Despite the gag and the panic the torture brought, Thordan heard himself beg coherently. All the names that he called for, all the calls for help, all the words used to beg for mercy... but nothing was heard - the gag did its job well.

His body continued to struggle against the ropes that had held him, convulsing and kicking, as he continued to scream as the assault on his senses continued. He wanted to vomit so, so much, but there was nothing his stomach, empty for almost a week or so, could expel. Nausea had set in once the smell had grown too bad at around the third day, but now it had surely reached its peak.

Then he lost control of his bladder, adding to the stench the previous days had collected. But unlike before, he failed to stop himself, and the liquid, his very own waste, flowed, and the smell was indescribable in the awful sense. All the while, Dagbert's cronies continued to torment him, scratching against his pawpads.

There was no dignity left to him, pissed away by his weakened body.

His destiny was robbed away by a beast who tortured him just to break him.

And he could do nothing but weep.

So weep he did.

He wept until the torture stopped, and he could only hear a mere few words spoken.

"... get him out..."

"... the hedgehog will..."

"That's what we have..."

The barrel was opened, and Thordan squinted from the sudden light. Before he could get used to the radiance, he was dumped into another barrel, this one filled with nothing but water. More screaming and thrashing quickly followed, and when Thordan was finally pulled out from the cold water, he was but a shivering, whimpering mess.

A towel was draped around him, and a glance indicated that Bodvar's eyes were strangely empty, devoid of malice or regret. What had Dagbert done to them? And what will he do to me?

When more ropes were tied around him, Thordan did not resist. His time in the barrel was over, but he knew he was broken.

For the first time in two whole weeks, Thordan had an adequate grasp of his surroundings. He was in another one of those Sword-forts, though one within Dravain territory. Suits of armour seemed to be staring straight at the towel-clad Thordan, and the thought of them seeing him made his ears droop. He had suffered enough humiliation.

Is that what Dagbert meant when he talked about seeing my father for the last time? Having to endure being tortured to death while he is worried sick about me?

His still shivering body was deposited in a chair, his bonds severed and his gag finally removed as he came face to face with his chief tormentor. Dagbert did not look as smug as he was expected to, having caused so much pain.

"Forgive me, but I did what I had to do." Thordan's old chess piece, the otterking, began to glow in Dagbert's paws.

Thordan was too exhausted and broken to say anything.

"Seers are normally resistant to Pressuring," Dagbert rambled on, "so your mind had to be crushed before Emmeroloth poisons it."

For a moment, Thordan wanted to resist as Dagbert's Conjured spell entered his mind, but he just couldn't. He didn't have the energy or the drive. He never had them.

And so, he just sat as he felt a semblance of obedience, a sense of longing for Floret, the need for companionship among the scholar mole and his warrior brother...

All of a sudden, a spear of ice tore through the door, rousing Thordan from his clouded mind. Dagbert dodged it, of course, and countered with a blow just as hard - a torrent of water.

When the blast cleared, Thordan was still in his chair, shocked, Dagbert was holding a book which he pulled out from nowhere, and Isangrim was choking and gasping from all the water.

"You never learn, do you not?" Ropes of Wind bound the incapacitated fox to the ground, his muzzle bound like the last time all three were together, with Dagbert still as Phronesis.

There was nothing Thordan could do. Or so Dagbert thought.

He charged at the mole, barreling into him, and wrenched the wooden otter carving from his grasp as they tumbled onto the ground.

Then the both of them surrendered.

A hammer of air was Conjured out of Thordan's paw, but was just stopped from smashing the mole's head in by a shield, also seemingly of solidified air. No sound was emitted from the impact at all, as both combatants prepared their next moves, which clashed against each other before the pair knew what they were, staggering back as if cut with an actual iron knife.

But it soon became clear that they, Recorder Dagbert of Duncton and King Thordan of Dravania, were planning to do to each other. They were trying to sever the other from embracing Seercraft, but ran into each other's flows of aether!

If anybeast not a Conjurer nor a Thaumaturge walked into the room the two were in, say Bodvar Waycaster, they would have witnessed perhaps the staring contest with the highest of stakes to ever occur. None would have guessed that it was a duel, perhaps to the death. Warriors sang with swords and diplomats danced with words, but this was a duel as intense, perhaps more intense, than the others.

"All your planning shall come to an end!" Dagbert smiled, earning a puzzled look from Thordan. "Time has been wasted on the both of you. Too much time" But it has become apparent that Dagbert was taking not to Thordan, but the immobilised fox. "I mean for you to pay, me Emmeroloth. Isangrim, Pallpelt, Darkening Cloud, whatever!" The mole's voice started to deepen as Thordan pushed harder, forcing him to do the same. 'You have led to ruin enough!"

"Ruin?" This taxed voice belonged to Thordan as he stepped towards the downed fox. "I have no idea what you mean."

Dagbert growled as Thordan got one small step closer to clamping his trap over Dagbert, before the mole halted his advance."Your foxy little friend had destroyed all too many lives! Long ago, there was one world, and its inhabitants wielded both branches of magic freely. However, the world suffered a world was split into seven, six of them are mere Shards of the original world. A sole ratmaid was cast off into the Rift between the worlds from the Windshard, and was saved by an otterking who had the gift of a seer. Though she was a vermin and he woodlander, she taught him how Thaumaturgy is used. However, being a woodlander, he was forced to use Conjuration like Thaumaturgy, yielding results that are far and few between. It was only when the ratmaid passed on and the king took on a vulpine apprentice shall more be discovered, while the moles of Duncton figured out as well. Then the two proceeded to rent these worlds apart one by one!"

The mole's voice continued to sink deeper and deeper as he blathered on and on, but Thordan was no longer listening, continuing to walk step by step towards Isangrim despite the strain. Are you truly that confident that you would win, Recorder? Why do you talk? Are you looking for an opening to throw all your strength at me?

Both sides were starting to sweat. There was quite a lot on Thordan and on Dagbert's face as well, slowly dripping from forehead and muzzle to the ground.

That's it! Thordan almost jumped up with the revelation. It was not anger deepening Dagbert's voice! It was strain! It was tiredness! Dagbert did not throw his full might into his cage because he simply could not. He was already using his full strength! He was wordy because he needed a distraction, because they were at a stalemate!

They were equal in power!

Thordan picked up Isangrim's glass wolf. "Oh yes, the vermin and woodlanders both have their Augmenters and Amplifiers, but-" Dagbert could speak nary a word more as the otter hurled the wolf at him. The figure hit Dagbert between the eyes before the mole managed to catch it, albeit awkwardly, in his right paw, but the damage was done, and the force of Thordan's clamp slammed right into the momentarily distrait Recorder.

Dagbert dropped to the floor like a heavy pail of water, and Thordan's legs were too weary and trembling for him to not follow suit. But he still had the presence of mind to mimic Dagbert's earlier moves, and soon Dagbert was bound and muzzled - exactly like Thordan in Kaldos.

He had done it. He had faced a fully-trained seer and defeated him.

On Thordan's left, Isangrim's bonds unraveled as Thordan willed them to, and the fox panted and sputtered, coughing out more droplets of water. Then the duo turned towards Dagbert.

"What are we supposed to do to him now?" Isangrim gave the mole a leering smile, causing him to mumble something through his gagged muzzle.

"I'll have a closer hearing." Before the fox could protest, his Amplifier was blown back to him by Thordan's wind as the Recorder's mouth was unbound.

The mole took a deep breath. "We can still come to some arrangement, if I am freed again. There is much that I would like to teach you."

"I am not sure that I can trust you." Thordan was blunt and terse in his wording.

"Well, all seers cannot lie." The mole prisoner continued.

Thordan turned to the fox. He seemed to be in even worse shape than Thordan was, and looked ready to faint at every moment, yet something forced him to stand. Hatred, perhaps. "Is this correct, Isangrim?"

"Being forced to tell the truth does not imply that he is trustworthy."

"Looks like you would have to follow us back home, then. Isangrim, can you prepare one of those Gateways or something?"

A Pathway did appear, but from the look on Isangrim's face, it was not one of his making. Indeed, another mole ran through the portal, and he held twin swords in his paw.

Finnbarr and Fatch.

The sight of the mole was enough to make Thordan drop his concentration - and run. But he wasn't fast enough - a sphere of gravity pressed him down onto the floor.

And all faded into black.

Dagbert felt the bonds on his body fade, and those on his mind as well - Conjuration had returned to him. His captors were both unconscious, weakened by days of torment, humiliation and starvation.

"I'm glad you're safe." Arbert smiled as he embraced his brother for the first time in weeks, with Ralos and Slyte emerging out of the Pathway as well. "Nothing much had happened, I take it?"

The Recorder pointed at the downed otter. "Well, Thordan here taught me much. And Emmeroloth kindly informed me about all their plans and secrets. But these would have to-"

The pine marten butted in. "I feel it again. Thaumaturgy is being gripped!"

Dagbert stole a glance at Isangrim. But he is still out, so the Thaumaturgy comes from. Oh no!

The four beasts desperately rolled to one side when a bar of crimson flames, as tall as a full-grown shrew, emerged from the wall. Where it struck, everything turned to ash, and Dagbert was lucky to not stand in its way.

The scholar had ample time to form a spherical shield of Wind as Lorelei emerged from the wreckage, eyes red with rage, and the figure of another fox could barely be seen. Shadowbringers in paws, the otterqueen leapt at the shield, and Dagbert expected something being hurled at the dome with Conjuration.

But the impact was of another sort. Forgoing all else, the otter simply tried to punch through the spherule of solidified air, and Dagbert shuddered. Arbert struggled to create a Pathway at the back, and both Ralos and Slyte were ready to defend the shielded moles.

The air's cracks widened, and the mole was clearly straining to keep everything held together. Fates afire, Lorelei is a tough one! We need something new...

The solution was simpler than Dagbert had thought, but it still hit him later than when he had expected. With an audible grunt, Dagbert broke the shield himself - then sent the broken, jagged pieces of air towards the unbalanced otterqueen.

Lorelei blocked the little shards of glasslike air, and tried to pounce at the quartet again, but they were gone. They were headed to the Castle of Skulls, and there they would await the Ward.

Thordan woke up after what had seemed like centuries. His eyesight wandered across the room until they collided with a grey fox.

"Good day. I'm Hersent. Isangrim's apprentice. Nice to meet you." The vixen reached out her paw, which was taken.

"Thordan." No doubt too exhausted to list out his titles, the otterlord was terse. Terse enough not to ask any questions to his seeming rescuer, in fact, but not terse enough to act wholly trusting.

"Relax, Thordan." The otter turned towards where Isangrim was, and he was not in a good state - even worse than Thordan's, in fact. "You can trust her. She's with me."

"Whatever," Thordan rolled his eyes and turned his head to his mother. She calmly made her way to her son - and less than calmly slapped him so hard that his face jerked. "You almost got the both of you killed because you put your trust in the wrong beasts again! How many times have I told you not to get yourself in danger, boy?"

"All too little, mother." Thordan almost spat the last word. "How many things have you kept from me? How many times do I need to suffer because I don't know things that you and Dagbert do?" He tossed the statue onto the ground, and it rebounded before skidding to a halt. "I want nothing to do with seers anymore. Nothing at all!"

Then he ran. Ignoring Isangrim's calls for him to return, he sprinted out of the door and into the hallway, as fast as his food-deprived body would allow. Statues and suits or armour were ignored as he tried to get away from the fort, and all those who sought to control and manipulate him, whether because he was a Swalestrom, or because he was a seer.

Then he barreled into an otter.

Before Bodvar Waycaster could respond or even draw his weapon, Thordan quickly changed directions and bolted down another hallway. Turning back to gauge the two beasts' distance, he saw nobeast chasing him, and sighed with relief as he continued to dash.

His relief would soon be proved to be short-lived, as he tumbled down a flight of stairs, landing with an audible 'crack'.

"You shouldn't have treated the boy so harshly, Lorelei." Isangrim mused. "I doubt he will obey you ever again."

"I know Thordan better than anybeast else, and-" Lorelei was cut off by a tap on the shoulder, given to her from the black furred fox. She turned her head, but her face never stood a chance against the black paw which connected with her jaw. She fell onto the floor as easily as a stone.

Isangrim nursed his own snout, which was also in pain. The two had Bonded back before Thordan's birth, and he now feels everything Lorelei did pain included. "If you have the nerve to physically hurt your own flesh and blood after he had already suffered horrendous torture, then you don't really have a right to raise him, do you?"

Lorelei said nothing, as she rubbed her jaw, definitely grateful that all her teeth were there.

"Your father tasked me to protect him, but never, and I mean never had I imagined that I have to protect him from you!" Isangrim took a deep breath, but failed to calm down. "I see, at long last, why nobeast seems to like you, despite everyone respecting you! And I see that -"

Hersent coughed quite loudly, and all other heads in the room turned to her.

"Er - I tracked Arbert's aetherial signature to the Earthshard, and it's in their version of the Lands of Ice and Snow. Judging by the hastiness of their retreat, it is in our interest to pursue."

"Could be a trap." The other fox gave a bitter smile, still trying to remove his jaw from his imaginary pain.

"Well, It's just that of a great opportunity." Lorelei proved to be more enthusiastic. "Besides, we now know where they are hiding - when they're not in Duncton, of course."

"Alright. We'll do it. For Thordan." Isangrim raised his glass wolf up, and punched through the Rift separating the worlds.

And the three stepped through.

[MathLuk]

Meteor

CHILLGRAVE, KINGDOM OF ICE AND SNOW, THE EARTHSHARD

The four figures ran up a flight of stairs, mossy and creaky after seasons of neglect.

"You spanked Emmeroloth?" The first of them spoke. He was a pine marten with fur as dark as pitch, and had a sense of humour to match as well.

'Well," the second and third were both moles, but one was in 'seer gear', as they put it, and the other was in plate armour. The second beast continued. "I thought of the only way to break Arbert, then applied it on the fox."

"Very funny." The other mole raised his brows and rolled his eyes. His failure to retain Verminfate was not the first failure he had received, but he took it with stride. After all, he had Finnbarr and Fatch. What need is there for a sword so big that he could not swing it without leaving himself open?

"I think he is being completely serious." The fourth beast was the only one doing nothing but running for now, but him being the fifty-seven season old General Ralos Farin, he was the slowest of them all. "Humiliation must be applied to pride like a bandage to a bad wound."

"Hey! If it works, it works!" Slyte failed to suppress a laugh when they reached the tower's top. Castle Chillgrave was a massive structure built of sandstone on the whim of a wolverine king, aspiring to imitate the Amplifying power of Redwall. A pity he did not know about Redwall's actual secret...

The tower they were on was called The Grasping Claw, back in a time when the castle was not abandoned, when there were slaves hauling bricks up towers, and kings decorating corridors with skulls of all species, woodlander and vermin alike. But it was merely a shadow of its former self now. Only the most intrepid of explorers and children dared to come here, and most returned... but not the same.

Which made the whole place a good base to strike out from, at least from Ralos's perspective.

Peering down from the tower, Ralos could almost see everything without a roof over it. Other towers, claw-shaped and sharp, jutting out from the land itself. A courtyard, neglected for six whole seasons, teeming with all the wrong sorts of plants (all withered now). A quarry from afar, where sandstone's supposed magical qualities were reaped from the earth. The sea, stretching towards where Ralos' old eyes cannot see. And the walls. The castle could very well be envied by Triel or Southsward, will walls as study and thick like this. And this masterpiece was commissioned and built by vermin!

"Alright." Arbert took on his leading position. "I sensed a presence. A strong aetherial signature. Undoubtedly Emmeroloth." His subordinates nodded.

The Warrior continued. "Once they open their pathways here, we will be waiting for them. Dagbert, you'll head to Ishgard. Ralos, Slyte, you two to the tunnels. Stop anyone from entering." Arbert pointed to himself. "I'll stay here, looking out for the fox."

"We got that." Dagbert opened his Pathway and appeared in another tower, this one not as high as the one Arbert was on. Slyte opened his own Pathway, then he walked right across it into a tunnel leading to the sea, with the squirrel in tow..

"See you on the other side." Arbert softly said as everybeast took their own positions.

Finding their way to the docks was the easy part. Isangrim's skill with Pathways had improved since the last time he went adventuring in another world, and Lorelei was grateful for that. She could not grasp or embrace Conjuration enough to open one.

"They must be up there." The fox gestured at the castle.

"I sense Conjuration." Lorelei's ears and hackles raised. "Two sources. Water."

Suddenly, seemingly in an instant, the waters around them rose in two gigantic pillars. Waves, they were, and they were as tall as beasts. The moles have Amplifiers, but how could they be so infernally strong?

Before the waves converged, Lorelei saw Isangrim had barely enough time to slink into one of his Pathways, while the waters took everything - the docks, the pillars, and even Lorelei herself into the depths.

The waters were black, lightless, churning, and even the most accomplished of swimmers could not fight such a tide. But she would not die here! She was a queen of her own realm, and the daughter of the most powerful person in the entire Source! But she could do nothing against this terrifying force of nature. Hunks of wood seemed to fly around as the world spun around the otter, and soon her eyesight seemed to dim.

Remember your training, girl. King Thordan's voice leaked into her ears. But what could she do, if not fight? Her father fought, Corrado fought, but what could she do?

The answer seemed to come in the form of her other son's books.

If you cannot attack, defend.

If you cannot defend, flee.

If you cannot flee, surrender.

If you cannot surrender, die.

Thordan yielded to Conjuration, and became all too powerful. If that frail little boy can, I will.

Then she did what she thought was impossible, as the waters took away all breath.

She surrendered completely to the will of the Fates.

Conjuration filled her - she let Conjuration fill her as bubbles of air converged around her, and she drifted up like the pieces of wood around her. Clutching one of them in her paws, she took a deep breath and waited for a moment to aid her Bonder.

But not now. It was rest she needed. If only for a minute. Or two.

To be honest, Hersent was quite nervous about this whole 'battle' thing.

She knew who their enemies were - seers who would like nothing more than Southard dominance over the Southern Realms. Why they would want that, Hersent knew not.

The tunnels below the castle were like a maze, Hersent thought. And if I just stick to the walls on the right... I'll find the exit!

She trudged along the cold, slimy ground, moistened by decades of seawater, and went into the deeper regions of the castle.

Cursing under his breath, Isangrim appeared on the walls from his fifth Pathway. He could feel his Bondbeast struggling not to drown, and could only offer silent prayers to her - and keep calm for her. She would not need more panicking, from his side of the Bond or hers. That would do no good for the both of them.

He could also feel Thaumaturgy being gripped by two others, two others that did not seem to break into fighting yet. One was Hersent, already in the castle. Who was the other?

Must be the one who killed King Thordan, then.

Though he could only feel the torrent of Thaumaturgy rush through far, far away, but it was not him that they were after. Isangrim prayed to Vulpuz that he would reach Dagbert before everybeast else. He longed to see the mole die, or better yet, beg for his life, but he would have to reach him first.

In the end, though, he had no need to do so, as the moles stepped out of their Pathways and lifted up Finnbarr and Fatch, hastily dropping into battle stances. Glass wolf in one paw, and wooden staff in the other, the black fox reached for Thaumaturgy.

Slyte slunk through the cold passages of Castle Chillgrave, as he knew the others were fighting. The battle had been joined, far, far away from the duo, yet all they did was walk. Thaumaturgy was being held in one place - the walls, and sometimes he sensed another. Had they received another recruit? Slyte could only hope that they would not have turned another vermin seer against them.

Dagbert and Arbert were the only beasts in his entire life to treat him acceptably well, and Slyte would be grateful - though the riches they offered seem to have clouded his judgement for a bit. Ralos was the slowest of them all to warm up to him, but that was still to be expected. The squirrel had used the most of his life to fight against vermin, and working with one had not really crossed his mind. Yet still, they were quite good as a team, and Ralos seemed grateful.

But then, he could have had a more leading role in any other organisation. He was the only Thaumaturge on their side, but he was simply seen as 'the vermin' in Floret or Duncton. Just because the moles were technically nobles, and the squirrel was older than his father, did not mean that he was to finish last.

Pawsteps startled the resting pair. Ralos reached for his scythe, while Slyte kept a paw on one of his daggers, and the other paw on the Augmenter Dagbert took from Emmeroloth.

"Can you help me?" The creature stepped out, revealing her features. Her long and narrow snout and pronounced ears labelled her as a fox, even though her grey fur was different than most of her kind's orange or red. "I was exploring the castle, then I got lost." Her voice was lighter than the average fox, childlike, even. "I must have left my equipment somewhere, and-"

"You do know that this is a strange place to be exploring," Ralos snorted. "And are you aware that you are too young to be here?"

"Yes!" The vixen chirped. "But I don't think I care a lot about these things. Can you tell me what all this commotion is about? There seems to be a battle going on."

"Well, lass, somebeast wants to break into the castle, and we-"

As Ralos spoke, Slyte felt his blood run cold. He revealed his dagger, and the grey vixen gasped in surprise.

"She's a Thaumaturge!" A dagger flew from his paw, which she nicely dodged, and a circle of ice materialised around the three - the vixen's work.

She wanted a battle to the death, and Slyte found himself very interested.

As Emmeroloth spun the ring of fire around the two moles, Arbert knew exactly what to do.

Conjuring the greatest of winds, he sent the flames back to the fox. The flames should do no damage at all, but the heat would travel back to its maker.

And travel back it did. The fox groaned in pain for a split second, but apparently, he was used to it, and soon bolts of lightning emerged from the skies, forcing Arbert and his brother to bid a speedy retreat. When he turned his head, Isangrim's clothing was singed, yet the beast was evidently not harmed, though cursing profusely he certainly was.

This mode of warfare would require more... psychological methods.

"Well, fox, this is not the first time you found yourself in a sticky situation. If you consider yourself lucky, only one of use get to spank you until you beg for us to stop again. But if not-"

The mole's taunting quickly stopped as a massive cloud of mist suddenly emerged from just in front of Arbert, resulting in an explosion of purple.

A whiff of the gas made Arbert collapse to his feet, coughing and sputtering. Poison! Emmeroloth knows its making!

Feeling a possible impact from Emmeroloth's wooden staff whistle past his ear, Dagbert got to his brother, who simply fell limp. Before their foe could do anything, or even say another word, the moles stumbled through another Pathway.

Hersent was never one to laugh in the face of danger, and she never intended to to as such. Maybe taking on two at once is not that great of an idea...

Ralos the squirrel shied away from Conjuration attacks in order to simply use his scythe, but he was not too fast for the grey vixen. The slippery floor did not help manners for the woodlander, as he battled this lack of friction caused by a rapidly freezing battlefield as hard as he did the Thaumaturgic vixen.

The marten, though proved troublesome. Being in possession of the little tin box meant that he could effortlessly overpower her if push came to shove, but she had the element of surprise. He was forced to divert his energy towards the narrower realm of physical fighting - which was little comfort for Hersent.

Wreathing his twin blades in the power of fire, Slyte leapt at her, which she blocked with a narrow shield of ice. Vapour quickly emerged from the contact, and the fox leaped back, eagerly waiting for a second blow from the second vermin.

But that blow never came.

Instead, a massive scythe, levitated with wind, was thrown at her with all the strength Ralos could muster. She could only gasp as a fatal blow was narrowly missed, but she felt the line of metal scratch against her face.

Then came the taste of blood, and by then she had fled through a Pathway, leaving her at where she started exactly three minutes ago, but with a massive gash down her face.

If this doesn't get healed quickly, I'll die!

Casting away her panic, she began to open another Pathway, slowly and securely.

But the time for running is over, and she will stand and fight. Until the day of her passing.

'You worried me for a second." Lorelei smiled as Isangrim sat down on the castle walls, exhausted after finally driving away his twin assailants. "I could feel you drown!"

"Well, can you feel me not die?" The otterqueen winked at the fox, who stood up. "You don't need to talk to me about doom and gloom every time you feel it from me!" She sniffed. "What about Arbert and Dagbert? Where are they?"

"They retreated. I used a foul blast on them, and they slunk away to heal." Isangrim spat. "Arbert must have known the consequences of taunting. Coward."

"We need to go after them! Now!" Lorelei felt her fists tighten as she felt what Dagbert did to Isangrim again. The spankings were horrible, and it would have broken Lorelei had that been done to her. But they still have the moles to defeat - thoughts on bloody vengeance must wait.

"Isangrim, can you take me to the tallest tower?" Lorelei turned her head back to the fox, who was in his own pensive thoughts.

He was clearly not listening.

"Hersent has fought their vermin." Isangrim trembled. Two sources of Thaumaturgy are being used close to each other! She's in danger!"

The otter huffed. "Alright. You'll drop me anywhere in the castle. I'll try to be a normal otter and walk. Happy now?"

"Very much so." The fox carved open all space to reveal a narrow room, with cupboards, fireplaces and even a big cauldron.

A kitchen, with windows towards the open sea.

"I will go for my apprentice, and you get to punch the heavens out of moles. You feeling overjoyed yet?"

Lorelei felt the corners of her mouth rise before she could control it. "Obviously."

During his first ascent into Ishgard from the Great Hall directly below, in his second sojourn into another world, Dagbert deduced that the tower's name meant 'Tower of Ice' in some Otharnic or Dravain tongue, and Dagbert was quite surprised that somebeast up north had named the tower like this.

The fool who built this clearly has no qualms about being identified as a clearly obvious villain.

He tried to scan for Conjuration, but could only sense a weak 'scent' somewhere underground - definitely Ralos. Dagbert wondered if they were alright - Ralos, of all beasts, using Conjuration was not a good sign.

Dagbert tensed.

Rapid, heavy pawsteps can be heard bit by bit as somebeast decided to ascend the narrow, clawlike tower.

They stopped.

Then he could sense Conjuration being embraced.

Then the stone under him tumbled down as a very angry otter punched through wood, brick and stone.

Dagbert quickly formed a shield around his body split seconds before Shadowbringers could destroy his bones. He had used it before, but this time there was not even one ball of blazing fire to warn him.

He should have been less surprised when the shield almost broke at the moment of her impact, but he broke the shield and sent it back at his assailant, just as he did back in Dravania.

But the shards of the shield never reached Lorelei, as Dagbert simply forgot about the otterqueen able to form shields of her own. Within a second, the mole was the one who had jagged, sharp slivers and shards of solid air hurled at him.

Instead of expending more energy, Dagbert weaved his way between the fragments of air. Skidding across the wooden base of the tower's top level, the mole found himself at the edge of the circular building.

Which is exactly where Lorelei pushed him off.

This little vixen's putting up more of a fight than many of my soldiers!

Twisting away from a blast of concentrated ruin, Ralos threw himself onto the bleeding fox, only for her to send another spell of the same make towards him, causing him to crumple onto the ground, a paw on his shoulder.

Slyte attempted to move closer, but somehow a wall of ice barred his path, forcing him to retreat across the Pathway the vixen had made, and to where Ralos slowly rose.

"Give up, vixen." Ralos was not used to being the negotiator, yet here he was. "If you would surrender, perhaps we can heal your wound, and train you properly - or something like that."

The grey vermin was not having any of it, as she sprinted across the room to her Pathway, crossing over to another part of the castle.

'"Wait!" Slyte and Ralos could do nothing but halt mere paces before the portal as the Pathway was closed, not vertically as in normal Pathways, but horizontally.

Ralos knew the significance of the vixen's last move, but he was too late to stop her. He scarcely had enough time and energy to form the shield around himself and the marten as the entire room exploded around them.

A great roar blasted into Isangrim's ears.

When the explosion hit Isangrim's nose like an explosion, as explosions tend to do, the fox raced towards the room. It used to be decorated with carpets, cushions and a marvellously crafted table, but after the castle had been abandoned, it was a shadow of its former self.

The explosion ruined all the beauty that remained of the room. Walls were reduced to rubble, and all the luxury of the room were either coated in ashes, or became ashes themselves.

In the middle of the room lay an unconscious vixen, a massive scar overtaking her head and almost her entire body burnt to a crisp.

"Hersent!' Isangrim rushed towards his apprentice, who said nothing in reply. Great Vulpuz, please let her be alive.

She seemed to remain unresponsive to him, as the black fox finally realised what had happened. She had tried to destroy a creation of Thaumaturgy, and thus released a mighty blast upon this world, and in this castle in particular.

Admittedly, healing had never been amongst his talents, but he seized Thaumaturgy anyways, and tried to reduce the size of her wounds. Every single time he opened his eyes, the slash on her head seemed less red, less hot, and the burn marks she bore seemed to fade into oblivion as well.

The vixen stirred, first slightly, then she bounced awake.

"Master Isangrim!" She tried to stand up, but fell back down onto her legs. Her paw found Isangrim's as she mustered enough strength to stand.

'Hersent." The elder of the two foxes looked at his apprentice pleadingly. 'Please do not do it again. Do not undo a Pathway in haste!"

"I would do that only if lives are at stake, Master Isangrim." She attempted to break into a jog, but her legs took a while to obey her.

Isangrim tried to approach her, only for an open paw to be shown to him as she turned her head towards her mentor, the big scar still on it - she needs a woodlander to deal with it. "I can fight still, Master, and I will."

"Then we go." The two rushed towards the heart of the castle.

"So we just wait here until Lorelei comes down?" Arbert asked. He had managed to save his falling brother by conjuring a cushion of air to protect him, and Lorelei still had no idea that he was still alive.

"Yes," Dagbert gave a sudden nervous smile. "And then we blast her with Water and Earth."

"A trap." Arbert found himself repeating the obvious.

"Once we-" Dagbert turned in the direction of pawsteps coming their way, and two foxes coming straight at them, clearly well-prepared.

Twin beams of fire and ice launched themselves at the moles, but their targets rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding being burnt and frozen in one go. Dagbert was about to call his winds when Lorelei slid down the tower staircase, eyes blazing red with rage once more.

The effect of her arrival was mitigated by another Pathway opening, revealing two beasts with clothing almost completely burnt away. Slyte limped out of the circle, with an almost burnt out Ralos in tow.

They looked more burnt that what was expected to be found in a kitchen.

Seeing her chance, Lorelei rushed towards the weakened squirrel, twin Shadowbringers in paws. Dagbert managed a shield of air while Arbert crafted a wave of healing over his two weaker comrades.

The entire dome of solidified gas trembled and shook as the otter in Bloodwrath pummeled the shield until cracks of it seemed to fall off with every hit, only for her to stop.

Dagbert was nearly spent when he saw the spear of flame conjured by Emmeroloth, but Arbert's two accomplishes were healed, and was able to form a shield of his own, rending it apart and sending the pieces back, driving the otterqueen into the back of the room.

So Dagbert saw fit to surrender.

Not to Lorelei.

Not to Emmeroloth and his upstart apprentice.

Not even to Conjuration.

Dagbert surrendered to Arbert.

For if the two were to be one, one had to lead and the other had to submit.

Seeing what is going on, Slyte tossed the tin box to Arbert, and surrendered just as well as any woodlander as Ralos proceeded to do the same. Now, Emmeroloth was well and truly caged.

Lorelei let out an audible gasp as she snapped out of Bloodwrath, and muttered a curse; as her train of coherent thought was swiftly interrupted by a blossom of flame, forged from Arbert's Earth, Dagbert's Wind and Slyte's Fire, combined by their link into a single burst of energy in conjunction with two Amplifiers and a single Augmenter.

The three in front of Arbert stood no chance as flames, taller than even the Stalwarts, erupted from everywhere at once, though it was clear to Arbert that only four were created, one from each corner of the room.

Everyone in the room heard the piercing whine of fires exploding around the room, but only Arbert knew that it was the sound of death.

As the fires extinguished themselves, no figure in the room was standing upright.

Ralos and Slyte were unconscious, no doubt exhausted after a rapid healing and their effort in Arbert's gamble.

Lorelei was mumbling incoherently as she flopped across the wall, though her two vermin friends were in even worse states, slumped together.

And finally, Arbert and Dagbert knelt in pain as they finally saw what they had done. Though nobeast had died for sure, the hall was scorched, to the point of inability to be called a room, let alone a hall, anymore.

It was at that exact moment of false triumph that Arbert sensed a fifth source of Conjuration.

Aligning the pathway, the beast that called himself Emetselk simply walked through like he was never dead.

A mole - clearly Arbert - gasped when they saw him. "You!"

"Yeah, I think I am me indeed." Projecting his cards in a circle, he lit the surroundings in a starry circle, enough to keep his friends going for a while.

"Father!" Lorelei shouted as she stood, unable to keep the secret he had hidden for so long.

The beast that stubbornly continued to call himself Emetselk smiled. "I knew you would know. I'm not exactly subtle, you know." Then he opened another Pathway.

Clearly expecting another attack from the long-dead King Thordan, Arbert barely faltered to produce a shield, tempered with both halves of Seercraft.

But he deceived himself.

The Pathway opened within the confines of the shield, and an armoured stoat stepped through. Fandaniel raised his greatsword, and swung - only to be stopped by a moleand his steel. Blocking Fandaniel's sword-strike with Finnbarr the Sword-Amplifier, Dagbert was able to hold him - for only about two seconds as the tall stoat's sword restruck, cleaving through clothing, sinew and bone.

Dagbert screamed as his right paw was severed from him, but before the vermin and his sword could do any more damage, a burst of wind threw him back to the edge of the room, a shield was propped up, and a Pathway produced.

The beast that was King Thordan Skyward could do nothing but watch as his enemies slipped out of his grasp for the second time.

This battle did not happen in the mind or dream of another beast.

This battle did not happen in the Rift between all seven worlds.

This battle happened in a world where beasts considered it all too real.

A meteor has been dropped on all worlds, Source or Shard.

The seeds of destruction, long sown, have been watered.

Days of Ruin grow ever closer for the Earthshard, and for the others of its kind.

After all, it is etched.