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A Phoenix in the Dark

The War of the Wings

There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that when the world was young, there were two distinct branches of intelligent avian species that walked upon Tower Thirteen. It is, however, a matter of debate on how there only came to be one and why it was - statistically - the weaker of the two. People have debated long and hard how the Phoenixes became extinct when they possessed the uncanny ability to resurrect themselves after death while the Avios, despite having the numerical advantage, were considerably more average. History has sadly become blurred on this topic but there are many points that even the most stubborn of historians can agree on.

The Phoenixes were the older of the two races. Proponents of Creationism would advocate that they were the God of Fire’s first children and the Avios came after when Adramalech decided that the Phoenixes needed a subservient species to dominate over so that they did not attempt to wrest power from one another. Evolutionists would simply state that the Phoenixes evolved sooner than the Avios. The fact of the matter is, the Phoenixes came first and because of this, they had a far greater understanding of Pyromancy. It could be through this mastery that they developed their means of near-immortality.

Unique to the Phoenixes is their ability to come back from the dead, seemingly unharmed and perfect as ever. No fatal wound would keep them down for long. Indeed, it was this ability that caused a major schism between the Phoenixes and the Avios, at least according to recorded history. Jealous of their elders’ abilities and the fact that the Phoenixes lorded over them in a cruel manner, the Avios as a species decided to rise up in rebellion against their immortal masters. Many would see this as a way for the Avios to die on their own terms instead of in service.

At this point in the story, it would be common for the ignorant listener to assume that the Avios were wiped out but that is, of course, not the case. Avios walk amongst us now in great numbers whereas the Phoenixes are nowhere to be seen. Historians diverge on the reasoning for this. Some posit the idea that the Avios somehow found a way to disable the Phoenixes’ ability to be reborn after a fatal wound. Others believe that Adramalech himself intervened and destroyed the Phoenixes for their arrogance and cruelty. There are even records that one majestic Phoenix rose up during the War of the Wings to battle her own kind, the supposed Champion of Fire or the Champion of Adramalech.

Whatever the cause, somehow, the Avios triumphed over the Phoenixes and the entire species was wiped out. History has not been kind to the Phoenixes. The past is written by the winners, after all. Read any history book and it will tell you that the Phoenixes were cruel, hedonistic masters who went out of their way to find some way to entertain themselves in their immortal lives. Given that this occurred several hundred thousand years ago, much of Phoenix culture is now long gone though there are a few remnants here and there. Even the famed Chromomancers of Temporal could not go back far enough to discern the truth about the great winged, immortal race before they, too, were rendered extinct.

Naturally, there are questions about the War of the Wings.

How did the Avios win? How could an entire species just be wiped out? What happened to the Champion of Adramalech?

Silent Skimming

A sand skiff sailed quietly across the black expanse of the Vorbaldir Expanse, kicking up a cloud of dark sand behind it as it passed. A loud metallic clanking could be heard from the multitude of whitepyre lanterns placed on its deck, allowing many of the crew members who scurried about its wooden frame to see exactly where they were going. Here in the Sunless Lands, everything was plunged into near-perpetual darkness with the only source of light being the stars glistening above and - if you were lucky enough to travel to the far north of the continent - the very distant light of Chrysalis. Despite this, the inhabitants had learned how to adapt and traversing the black sands on ships made out of dark wood and illuminated by blazing white lanterns was just one example of such adaptations.

Perched on the bow of the ship, sitting with his legs absently dangling off the railings, sat a Wulfun. His lupine features were out of place in the perpetually dark landscape. With snow-white fur and hazelnut-brown hair styled into youthful spikes between his large, triangular ears, Harm Chronos whistled a nameless tune. The sand skiff glided across the dark dunes, propelled by magic and the winds caught in its big, shimmering sails. The black sands that absorbed 99% of all light that touched it brushed up against the brown, leather vest he wore and even got onto the white, short-sleeved collared shirt beneath. However, they didn’t stick for very long. Compelled by some unknowable force, the flecks of sand would leap off his clothing moments later, failing to get caught in the tiny grooves of his navy blue slack or the fabric of his red and white sneakers. The momentum of the skiff and the billowing winds caught the long, scarf wrapped around his neck, causing twin tails of white to trail behind him.

His keen ears picked up movement behind him and he glanced over his shoulders, brilliant yellow eyes catching the sight of Aria Valkyrie as she approached him. A visage of striking beauty, Aria stood at an intimidating 6’11’’ compared to his even six feet. This was without her heels. Her platinum blonde hair was like a silvery gold waterfall that tumbled against her back, impossibly straight and perfect. Some parts of her hair was braided to form a sort of tiara that wrapped around her temple, serving to highlight her curved eyebrows and chiseled cheekbones that framed her amethyst eyes. Her high, armored heels made loud clacks as she approached and her pristine, silver bracers stylized with the motif of feathers let out soft, metallic clunks as she leaned them against the very same railings he sat upon.

“There is a certain beauty to this sight,” she mused, her voice belonging in the greatest choirs of the church and easily putting any career opera singer to shame. “Where most would shy away from living in near-total darkness, the industrious people of the Sunless Lands somehow found a way to thrive here. These sand skiffs and the way they navigate is a testament to this fact.”

Harm spent a second smiling down at her before turning his gaze over to the distance. On the horizon and growing closer was a green speck of light, one of the many Lighthouses that littered the dark sands of the Sunless Lands. In ancient times, explorers and cartographers had created these monuments that burned with an eternal green flame atop them to help guide travelers to landmarks and cities.

Hard to think that a land touting itself as the ‘Station of the Sun’ could have places completely devoid of light, he mused.

“It’s certainly a far flung contrast to how things are on Haven,” he replied with his ever-present smile; just a slight incline of the corners of his lips. “Back then, you wouldn’t have to so much worry about where you were going but more if Seeri managed to calculate the best way to navigate the highways to avoid traffic.”

Her musical laugh cut through the constant rushing noises of the sand skiff making its way through the desert expanse. “Ah, the things we take for granted. Were I far less patient, I would have pushed Lumire to get a navigation system installed on Incendius so none of us would have to go through the trials of this ten hour trip.”

“And deprive ourselves of such pleasant company?” Harm asked, hiking a thumb over his shoulder at the sailors hard at work to make sure the sand skiff was sailing correctly. “You’re mad, woman.”

Perched on the starboard and port sides of the skiff were six men who were constantly muttering mantras and spells. The magic of these hybrid Geomancers and Aeromancers - colloquially called Sand Sorcerers by the natives of the Sunless Lands - allowed the skiff to propel itself through the dunes with little resistance. Arcane runes glowing with an eerie brown-gold light were arranged in a circle that they constantly guided in gentle rotations, almost acting like magical wheels that propelled the skiff forward.

Aria laughed softly and leaned a little further forward. The two alabaster and black pauldrons that were mounted on her shoulders lightly brushed against his arms. The black cloak with white trimming of a Templar wrapped around her athletic figure with an ebony, leather breastplate beneath. Her Valor, Gungir was hooked across her back; the broad black and gold spear dormant for the moment. The weapon’s wing and angelic motif were barely visible in the scant light.

“What are your thoughts on our mission?” she asked.

Damn… Beat me to the punch.

“What exactly are you asking?” he countered enigmatically. “Are you asking me why I think Lumire sent us, his two most trusted and arguably powerful agents, to a remote research station that sent out a rather calm and collected request for assistance due to oncoming sandstorms that would isolate them for months? Or are you asking me how we could possibly extract over a hundred scientists from a research station when this skiff can barely fit twenty and we’re already full up? Or are you, perhaps, curious about whether I’m serious about my personal mission to try one of the Sand Tribe’s local delicacies where they cook the two-tailed scorpions right after they molted so that their shells are nice and soft and their venom gives this nice tingling sensation in the back of your throat while also causing a mild sense of delirium. It’s called Shra-kazhat or ‘Baked Two Stingers’.”

Just for emphasis he lifted his paws and wiggled his fingers as if to simulate the crawling legs of a scorpion. Aria gave him a blunt, exasperated stare.

“The Shra-kazhat, then,” he answered with a growing smirk. “Well, as you know, back on Temporal I hadn’t had an opportunity to explore other cultures before the Purge of Time occurred so I’m genuinely curious about local cuisine. Admittedly, I may not be able to digest it all but -”

She nudged him with an elbow. “Be serious, Harm.” Her features turned to worry. “I’ve never known Lumire to keep secrets from us. We’ve been through too much together. I wonder why he would send us to Flareclaw Research Station to evacuate the scientists. A frigate from Haven or even the Incendian fleet would be able to accommodate the request. Sending the last remaining Chronomancer and an Angel who just happens to be a Templar at the same time seems somewhat excessive.”

Harm regarded her with a coy smile. “Someone has a rather high opinion of herself. Shouldn’t you be practicing humility as one of the exemplars of the Church’s edicts?”

“My constant travel companion is perhaps the most heretical, blasphemous entity in all existence; one that belongs to a race of demonic monsters who nearly brought the world to its knees,” she countered with a similar smile. “I think the Church can afford to grant me some degree of pride.” He featured turned back to seriousness. “Your thoughts?”

His smile faded as well though his lips didn’t ease back into a flat line, instead maintaining the slight curl at the edges making him look like he was smiling ever so slightly. “I honestly don’t think Lumire has any secrets about this request. Poor guy has been swamped by pwwetitions left, right and center. That said, this research center is run by Professor Edith Solholme who was an Incendian native but a graduate of Maximus University in Haven.”

The surprised look on Aria’s face was understandable. Harm had sported the same look when he had learned about who was running Flareclaw. Maximus University was one of the top educational facilities in all of Haven. Being the most technologically, socially and magically advanced Station in all of Tower Thirteen, it was something for someone from the 1st Station - Incendius - to make it all the way to the 13th and not only graduate from one of the most prestigious universities but also be given a rather sizable grant by the same institution. One could not deny that there were clear gaps between the Stations and while it may appear racist, Incendius was best known for it’s rather primitive levels of education and technology. Under Lumire’s rule, Incendius was making strides in advancing and even its starship fleet was starting to come up to the bare minimum standards but they were still decades away from competing against Haven.

The technological gaps really are depressing… Even after all these years, Lumire’s work barely has done anything to close the ravine between Stations.

“What was her specialty?” Aria asked.

“Ancient Incendian History. Her award-winning thesis on the Phoenixes is what got her the grant from the University and sponsorship from the Church to take over leadership of Flareclaw out here.”

The Angel closed her eyes and let out a soft knowing sigh. “Ah… Now I see why Lumire was personally requested to send someone. He is the Propheticus Primoris. The very leader of the Church. It would reflect badly on not only him but the Church itself if someone with the direct sponsorship of the Church was left to die out here due to a sandstorm.”

“Not to mention that’d be a lot of wasted assets and an important investment down the drain,” Harm added.

“Yes but I still don’t understand why he would have to send us.”

He smirked at her again. “What’s wrong? Got a hot date?” Leaning down to her with his lips peeling back in a wolfish grin, he added, “Why Lady Valkyrie, I didn’t know you were already thinking about settling down and having a kid. Who’s you’re beau? Does he know that the moment you bear him a child, your family will force you to commit ritual suicide as part of some bizarre tradition to ensure that the number of Angels are always the same?”

She pressed a hand against his muzzle and forcibly pushed him away, unable to keep herself from smiling. “No on both accounts. You know I have devoted to the Church. As a Templar, it is my destiny to give my life to the Church not in nine months after unprotected sex.”

Harm shrugged and straightened, gazing out into the distance. The green light of the Lighthouse was getting bigger. “Trapped between familial obligations and the obligations of faith. I don’t envy you. But to answer your question…” He swung his legs over the railings, planting his feet back onto the solid black wood of the deck. “I think Lumire sent us because he couldn’t think of anyone else to send. Remember, the Sunless Lands are technically outside of the jurisdiction of the Church. If he started sending Church starships here even if it was to pick up Church assets, he’d have to answer to the Sultan of Glasterah. It’d be an international incident.”

“And I suppose he couldn’t send soldiers either for the same reason,” she added. “Given how busy he is, he probably couldn’t scramble Incendian Paladins fast enough to get them here before that sandstorm hit. His only option was to get the two people he knew could make the trip the fastest and without much scrutiny.” She turned her back to the Lighthouse, arms folded as she faced him. “A Templar who is universally met with awe and you.”

You mean a Templar and someone whom time has no meaning.

“Bingo.” Harm stretched his arms, letting out a theatric yawn. “Well, it’s still a few hours before we get to Flareclaw. I’m going to go down for a nap.”

“You don’t sleep.”

“Fine. Maybe I’ll masturbate then.”

He could sense the sardonic smile on her features even without turning.

“You can’t do that either.”

“Just leave me alone.”

There was her bright, musical laugh again but it died out on a puzzling tone and he was instantly on edge. The Angelic Templar came to stand beside him, her purple eyes squinting off into the distance behind the ship. Harm tried to trace where she was looking, inching his face closer to hers.

“Lighthouses burn green, do they not?” she asked.

There were four blue-white lights off in the distance and they were growing bigger very fast.

Blue lights are… friendly. Maybe it’s just a patrol. Maybe.

“Yes, yes they do,” he answered. Cupping his paws over his muzzle, he turned towards the lookout in the crow’s nest. “Hey! Hey! Lookout! Look behind us! Tell me those things are ours!”

The lookout didn’t hear him over the roar of the winds and the sand skiff.

“Damnit…” he muttered. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll let the captain know,” Aria said and bolted off below deck.

Harm ran towards the rigging of the ship and leapt upon the thick rope. The Sand Sorcerers barely paused in their mantra as he scrambled up the ropes up to the crow’s nest. Halfway up the main mast, he got a clearer view of the approaching ships. Just in time, in fact, for the blue-white lights to turn red.

“Fuck…” he muttered and rushed the rest of the way up. The lookout was stunned when he jumped into the circular platform and grabbed the telescope from him. Four vessels were rapidly approaching. All of them bore the markings of the sand tribes. The ‘civilized’ communities referred to them collectively as the ‘Wyrmriders’ for their ability to tame the Great Sand Wyrms which they used to propel their vessels. Realistically speaking, the tribes were separated into different cultures with some having treaties of peace with other Incendians while others either brazenly raided townships or guarded their boarders jealously.

From where he stood, he could make out the enormous Sand Wyrms pulling at the vessels. They looked like a cross between a serpent and a whale with each one having long, serpentine bodies with three to four flippers jutting from their flanks on both sides which they used to effortlessly propel themselves through the black sands of the Sunless Lands. This made sure they were not reliant on magic and from what Harm recalled, the sand tribes could even house some Wyrms in the holds of their ship in case one needed to be swapped out.

“Tell me, sailor,” he said, handing back the telescope. “How big would a Wyrmrider craft be if it was being pulled by two Sand Dragons.”

The lookout visibly shook as he gazed through the scope. “One Sand Wyrms amounts to a scout ship. Two would be merchant vessels or, worse, a raiding skimmer. But three or four…”

The sound of ominous drums began beating over the roar of the sands and howl of the winds around them. The biggest of the vessels, a tremendous monstrosity pulled by four Sand Dragons, had to be one of the notorious Slaughterships. Infamous for being exceptionally cruel devices, the Slaughterships were used as large raiding vessels with the express purpose of capturing and torturing people to be held for ransom. They were effectively mobile torture chambers.

Those drums grew louder and louder and there was no ignoring them now.

Da-dum-da-da-dum. Da-dum-da-da-dum.

The lookout practically flung himself over the edge of the crow’s nest, yelling for the captain. “Wyrmriders! Alert the captain! Four of them closing in fast! There’s a Slaughtership amongst them!”

There was a moment when the Sand Sorcerers were stunned by the announcement and they turned to look at the approaching ships. The ominous red lights in the distance struck fear in their hearts and the moment of hesitation quickly caused their forward momentum to drop. The captain of the ship charged onto the deck and grabbed the telescope from the lookout. Cussing loudly, he barked for the Sorcerers to push them at full speed.

“Them’s war lights, boys! I dunno ‘bout you, but I ain’t gonna be strung up like a holiday sow and launched into the walls of my home!”

That’s… some vivid imagery.

One of the favorite tactics of the Wrymriders was to cut up their victims, let the bodies fester in their holds for some time, developing disease, smell and rot before piling them onto their on-board catapults and launching them into enemy territory. Not only was this a severe hit to morale but it could also possibly spread the disease.

Harm leapt off the crow’s nest and swung back down onto the deck. Aria was accompanying the captain who quickly took control of the helm.

“What’s our chances of outrunning them?” he asked.

“Slim, I’m afraid,” rumbled the captain, a grizzled man with one eyes permanently shut and wearing a salt-and-pepper, silver beard. It was tough to tell what parts of his beard were actually hair and what were flecks of black sand caught in the strands. “This ship was meant to ferry people at a leisurely pace. Even at our fastest, we would never be able to outrun their skimmers. Maybe the Slaughtership but those smaller bastards will come up beside us, harpoon our flanks and then pull us back into the Slaughtership’s range.”

“Do we have any weapons onboard?” Aria asked, already unsheathing Gungnir from over her shoulder.

“Apart from a few swords and daggers, nothing.”

Harm shrugged helplessly. “Maybe they just want to ask for directions?” He got deadpan stares from the others.

“Those red lights are war lights,” grunted the captain. “They mean to attack. Our only hope is maybe to make it to the Lighthouse in time or hope that a patrol around the Lighthouse will spot us before they capture us.”

Given how fast they’re approaching and how it’ll take hours to reach the lighthouse, those chances are already slim as is.

Aria patted the man’s shoulder and started to stride away. “Worry not, captain. We will protect you.”

Harm gave the captain two thumbs up and a cheery grin. “Just keep us sailing dead ahead. Hell, I’ll even give us a little boost.”

He turned towards the bow of the ship, holding out a paw in that direction. Golden rings of light marked with arcane runes sprang from his fingertips. A sound like the ticking of thousands of clocks rang out as similar golden rings wrapped around the ship itself. From bow to stern, the entire length of the ship was encased in concentric, aurite rings with arcane rune drawn all around their length. They spun constantly, contracting and expanding rhythmical like it was part of a single, breathing organism. Some of the rings resembled ethereal cogs complete with teeth that interlocked with smaller runes. Others appeared more like traditional magical circles with crisscrossing lines and arcane symbols. The white-furred Wulfun closed his eyes, brow furrowing slightly.

Okay. The ship weighs about 1.2 tonnes on it’s own. With the cargo and crew, I’d estimate about 1.8 tonnes in total. We’re traveling at… 50 miles per hour. Based on my current Time reserves and our average speed while factoring our weight… I can probably accelerate us… this much!

There was a thunderous boom, the entire ship lurched forward, their surroundings becoming a blur of motion. Everyone onboard was jerked back for a moment as if hit by a wall of air save for Harm who stood solidly with his paw outstretched, his fangs bared in concentration. As quickly as the experience came, it ended and the golden rings faded behind them. The war lights behind them fell back and the green light of the Lighthouse had gotten closer.

Harm gasped and stumbled forward, catching himself on the railings of the helm with sweat dripping off his brow.

“What…?” the captain gawked. Even the Sand Sorcerers were in shock as they were suddenly miles away from where they had been.

“Damn…” Harm cursed, offering a weary grin. “Moving a ship this big with all the people in it took more out of me than I thought.”

Aria rested a hand on his back, patting him affectionately. “It gave us more time. How far did you jump us?”

“About 23.7 miles,” he answered with frightening accuracy. Raising his voice, he pointed at the Sand Sorcerers. “Don’t stop! Keep pushing us forward!”

“You heard the man!” barked the captain. “Full speed ahead!”

The Sand Sorcerers went to work, propelling the ship forward and spinning their arcane rings as fast as they could.

“I don’t think I can do that again without risking being completely useless in the upcoming fight,” Harm admitted, wiping his brow with the back of his paw. “I’d maybe be able to do it again in about half an hour but by then…”

Aria nodded in understanding. They probably gave themselves an extra twenty-minute lead. The Wyrmriders would be upon them in about thirty. While he could make the jump again, he’d be too exhausted to attempt it by the time the Wyrmriders caught up again. Still, it increased their chances of being found by a patrol or getting within range of the Lighthouse’s sensors.

“Get some rest,” she said. “I’ll start making preparations.”

Harm slumped over the railings of the helm while he watched Aria march down to the deck proper. With a wave of her hands and a few words in the Illuminus Weizar, bright, wisps of thread-like lights wove from her fingertips, curling around into intricate structures. The lights solidified into glistening, white metal, forming a broad arch, a pointed tip and a sturdy frame. A metallic, white ballista suddenly sat on the deck. Unfazed by the amount of energy it would take to create something out of nothing, Aria moved a little further down the deck and cast the same spell.

“What was that?” asked the captain.

“That?” Harm said, fighting back his weariness. “That’s Deomancy. The Magic of Creation. Aria wouldn’t have gotten to where she is today if she wasn’t good at it.” He grunted softly as he straightened. “It always amazes me how she can create completely functional and sturdy structures like that with ease.”

“No that.”

Harm’s ears perked up.

“That spell you cast,” continued the captain. “That magic that sent us several miles away from the Wyrmriders. What was that?”

Harm chuckled softly and glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry captain. If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you. Or at least give you a frontal lobotomy so that you’re little more than a vegetable.” His strength was returning slowly but it would still not be enough to keep them permanently away from the Wyrmriders. Their lead was quickly shrinking and within five minutes, those red lights were already starting to blaze brightly in the distance.

“They’ve increased their speed as well,” he observed. “Probably knows that the closer we get to the Lighthouse, the lower their chances of capturing us without difficulty.” Harm turned back towards Aria, cupping his paws around his muzzle. “Aria! Drop some mines in the sand! Slow them down as much as possible!”

Aria waved her spear in acknowledgment and quickly wove a spell that created a giant, spiked explosive hovering over the edge of the ship. The moment she released it, it dropped into the sand and vanished between the dark dunes. A few more similar spells later, she returned to creating armaments for the ship. But even an Angel who happen to be a Templar had her limits and after arming each side of the ship with three ballistae each, and dropping several mines, she had to conserve her strength for the battle ahead.

The Wyrmriders had drawn close enough that they could hear the war drums again. There was a spark of satisfaction when one of the skimmers rammed into a mine. The loud explosion cut through the constant beating of the drums, a peal of thunder amongst a rumble of rain. One of the skimmers fell back, its red war lights vanishing quickly. It was too much to hope that it was the Slaughtership but at least that was one less ship to worry about. From then on, the sand tribesmen were more cautious. The lights weaved left and right, spotting the mines before they could be any danger.

“Here they come!” the captain roared as the two skimmers came within view. “To arms, men!”

From the helm, Harm could see the ominous frame of the Wyrmrider skimmers approaching. While smaller than their skiff and only capable of hosting maybe seven men or so, the skimmers were fast and heavily armed despite their size. Possessing just a single sail and pulled by a single juvenile Sand Wyrm, each one was armed with a cannon on the bow which was shaped like one of the conical-heads of a Sand Wyrm. A single broadside harpoon was positioned on either side of the skimmer. The men aboard were dressed in the traditional garb of Wrymriders; bodies completely covered in all-black wraps, bodies hidden by a helm shaped like a Sand Wrym’s head. They howled and whooped as they drew closer, brandishing weapons made of the Nightmetal commonly found in the Sunless Lands.

Boom!

One of their cannons went off. A flaming projectile launched through the air and tore right through one of the skiff’s sails. Embers and debris fluttered down onto the deck starting small fires. The crew immediately went to work putting them out. The loss of the sail, however, slowed them considerably. Enough, in fact, for the skimmers to come up right beside them.

“Fire!” Aria ordered.

The crew manning the ballistae fired; the long, silvery spears tearing through the skimmer’s hulls. The Wyrmriders hadn’t expected a little skiff to be so heavily armed. Even then, the ballistae did little more than tear large holes into the sides of the skimmers. The loud twang of the harpoons made Harm’s tail twitch. The harpoons tore through the fragile wooden hull of the skiff, its barbed frames digging deep into the ship. The skiffs, their jobs accomplished, immediately pulled back, letting the weight of their two ships pull back the transport and bring it that much closer to the Slaughtership’s range.

“Goddess be damned!” the captain cursed. “They’re pulling us towards the Slaughtership! We’re nowhere near any patrols or the Lighthouse!”

Harm, rolling his shoulder turned around to face the approaching capital ship of the Wyrmriders.

The ship itself was bigger than their skimmer or the two skiffs. It towered over them, the ominous open jaws of a Sand Wyrm forming the majority of the bow. It was clear that smaller ships would be swallowed by those jaws and subsequently torn apart within the ship itself. The ominous beat of the drums came from the Slaughtership but now it was possible to hear the bloodthirsty cries of the Wrymriders aboard. Eerie red flames burned within the jaws of the ship. The grinding of metal and screams of prisoners could be heard within the deep darkness of the ship’s depths.

“So what happens if we get caught?” he asked, expression completely unreadable and his lips missing the supposedly ever-present faint smile.

The captain grunted softly as he drew a long curved sword from his hip and readied it. “If we’re lucky. A swift death. Otherwise, the moment we’re drawn into those jaws…” The grizzled man gestured at the enormous steel maw of the Slaughtership. “… and it closes in on us, it’s over. We’ll be slaughtered.”

Only then did Harm Chronos offer the captain a sideways glance and a faint smile. “Then we better not get caught.”

He lifted his right paw towards the torn sails and with a snap of his fingers, golden rings of light encased the scorched fabric. Ominous, deep, resonating bells chimed from somewhere as magical golden strands knitted the sails back together, restoring them to their previous state. The wind immediately filled them and the skiff pulled away from the Slaughtership ever so slightly.

“That won’t be enough!” the captain exclaimed, holding out his sword to Harm. “Take this. Best to go out fighting. I’ll find another weapon.”

The white-furred Wulfun gently pushed the sword back towards the captain. “Keep it.”

“Don’t you understand!?” came the heated response. “These are murderers and expert Sand Sorcerers! They will be at least eighty of them on the Slaughtership alone! We are outnumbered, outgunned and no matter what magic you may possess, the best you can hope for is to buy yourself a few precious seconds of living!”

Harm turned his golden eyes towards the experienced sailor. Reaching for his side, he pulled out a single black and gold bar about the length of his wrist to the tips of his fingers attached to a golden chain hooked to a belt loop on his waist. With a flick of his left paw, the device split right down the middle vertically, the two equal pieces spinning on a hidden pivot like a butterfly knife. Six sharp, golden spokes shaped like stylized hands of a clock unfurled while a long compartmentalized blade quickly began forming from the pieces revealed within the grip. It took all of a second for the captain to realize that the Wulfun was now holding a sword in his left paw complete with a guard shaped by those six spikes originating an emblem of a handless clock face behind the symbol of Tower Thirteen.

“Captain,” Harm said calmly, “every second is precious to a Chronomancer.”

The man stared in shock. “A… what…?”

All further conversation was cut off as darkness began to enclose around them. Iron grinding against iron roared in their ears as the steel jaws of the Slaughtership began closing. They were now within the jaws of the titanic dreadnaught, escape seemingly impossible. Loud, guttural screams erupted from above them. Ropes came dangling from above followed by Wyrmriders sliding down brandishing weapons made of black, starry metal. Huge, black chains launched at the skiff from cannons up on platforms around the bowels of the ship. It soon became clear what the Wyrmrider’s plans were.

They’ll capture our ship, probably keep it as intact as possible. Capture everyone, slaughter them and repurpose this ship for their own needs.

It was likely a common tactic given the design of the Slaughtership. The smaller ships would cripple their target, the Slaughership would swallow them up and close its jaws to prevent escape.

Chilling.

One raider landed next to them, letting out a feral screech while waving a long, thin spear in their direction.

Harm coolly sidestepped. To him, he moved at an average pace - even a little slow by his standard - but to those observing him, his movements were a blur and near instantaneous so much so that even light took a moment to catch up and remember where he had positioned himself. The spear jabbed into the space where he had been standing only to be stopped from skewering the captain. The Wyrmrider jerked up in surprise as Harm’s paw gripped the weapon, nearly nose-to-nose with the masked marauder.

“I must apologize,” he said with a faint smile. “I’m not used to taking a shaft this long… or as sharp.”

Dark specks began spreading from the spearhead, quickly creeping down the entire length of the spear. A mere second later, the blackened material dissolved into similar particles as the dark sands of the Sunless Lands only it was a deep, rust-red color. The Wyrmrider staggered back, pulling his spear only for it to dissolve in his hands.

“Aww, that sucks,” Harm sighed, sagging his shoulders. “I hope I didn’t intimidate you. Maybe you just need a little push.” He flung his paw forward at the Wyrmrider. There was a boom like the sound barrier had just been broken. The black-masked marauder managed to scream despite bones and organs being liquefied as he was flung back by some invisible force and hurled high into the air and right off the skiff.

“Damn…” sighed the Wulfun. “My pillowtalk needs work.” He glanced over his shoulder, offering a cheesy grin at the captain. “Did I come on too strong?”

That grin remained as Harm’s form became a blur and -

Clang!

He slammed his sword against the twin daggers of another Wyrmrider that had aimed to attack the captain from behind.

“Ooooh. Double penetration.”

“Harm!” The shout came from down on the deck where Aria was swinging her own spear back and forth, sending crystal blades raining down upon the Wyrmriders invading them. “Stop playing around and do something!”

“Come on, Aria,” he laughed, completely ignoring the dumbfounded look of the captain and Wyrmrider. “You’re just as skilled as I am. Why can’t you do something? I did the last thing. Speeding this entire ship through time is no mean feat after all.”

“I armed everyone with weapons and made the ballistae!” countered the Templar.

“Yeah but I also paid for dinner before we left port.”

“That doesn’t count because you can’t eat!” she fired back hotly while kicking down a Wyrmrider.

“I paid for a meal for two!”

“Harm!”

With a chuckle he gently pushed back the raider engaging him and offered the Angel a courtly bow. “Very well, Lady Valkyrie. It’s about time, anyway.”

The Wyrmrider beside him roared and lunged once more. The twin black daggers bit into nothingness as Harm sidestepped through time and positioned himself right beside the raider, facing the massive iron jaws of the Slaughtership. He grabbed the face of the raider as time resumed at its normal pace.

“You know,” he began, speaking to no one in particular. “When I accelerated the ship through time, I had to pay special attention to factors such as wind shear and the time it takes to decelerate and accelerate. Keeping everyone in once piece after getting them to cross several kilometres in a single second isn’t easy.”

Either not understanding his words or just too blind with fury to reply, the Wyrmrider lashed out at him, jabbing one of the dagger right through his left forearm before pulling it back immediately. Harm’s grip didn’t falter. Blood seeped into his white fur… for all of a second. A single drop slipped off the tip of of his fur and fell towards the ground… before stopping in space just past his belt. Then, by some miracle, it shot back up, sliding back into the wound while the rest of his blood oozed back into the opening. Flesh stitched back together, closing within seconds not leaving a single trace of being stabbed.

“It took a lot out of me to give us a good half-hour head start while making sure no one died from rapid acceleration and deceleration,” said the Wulfun dismissively. “I do wonder what would happen to the average person if I don’t take such precautions.”

Without warning, golden rings of light sprang up around his paw. The Wyrmrider’s eyes widened. His entire figure suddenly became a blur of golden light, a streak of brilliant energies that streaked from where Harm held him and straight forward towards the bow of the Slaughtership.

Even though he’s made of just flesh and bone, anything accelerated at relativistic speeds can make one hell of a projectile.

CRASH!

The beam of light punched a hole right through the closed jaws of the Slaughtership, making combatants stop for a brief moment.

To a Chronomancer, every second is precious.

In half an instance, Harm was suddenly gripping another Wyrmrider by the neck down on the deck. The sailor he was engaging was on the floor, bloodied but alive. The black-clad raider never got a second to realize what was happening before every part of his body was transformed into a bullet of energies, accelerating at near-lightspeed with no protections and shooting straight at the Slaughtership’s jaws.

CRASH!

Harm already had another Wyrmrider by the time the first had smashed through the jaws and sending it soaring through the air as a golden bolt. One instant after another saw multiple streaks blasting from the skiff like some sort of reverse meteor shower striking at the integrity of the ship. That same metallic creaking came from those ominous doors. The lower jaws came crashing towards the sands leaving them with an opening once more.

“Aria!” he shouted. “Get the chains!”

“And you?” shouted the Angel as she charged towards one of those chains holding the skiff down. She leapt into the air and spun elegantly like a ballerina. A brilliant, white light encased her spear, elongating the blade and extending it to appear like an enormous sword. It sliced cleanly through the nearby chains.

“Rescue mission,” he announced.

Harm launched himself onto one of the the chains. Only as wide as one of his feet, the Wulfun still managed to dash up its length, defying gravity and the very forces of nature as he became a blur of motion. The Wyrmrider manning the cannon moved only a fraction of an inch before he was upon the man, burying his sword - Timekeeper - in between the raider’s eyes. Golden flames danced between his fingertips on his right paw. A simple flick of his paw and the flames engulfed the wooden cannon, immediately sending it ablaze and consuming everything even the metal chains. Timekeeper in his left paw, he dashed across the weapons platform, slipping between Wyrmriders too stunned and far too slow to react to the unnaturally fast movements of a Chronomancer. Timekeeper swung through the air silently at first until a few seconds later when its sing-song tune of its sharp blade slicing through the air caught up, interrupted only by the cries of the Wyrmriders as their flesh, bones and organs were cut cleanly.

The Chronomancer’s keen ears picked up where the screams of the tortured were coming from and he approached a series of black, spiked cages. Poor men and women of all different races were kept within. Some of them malnourished or even missing limbs.

God, this is horrible.

Harm swung his sword, slicing right through the metal. Those black Nightmetal bars crumbled to the ground.

“Come on,” he shouted. “We’re getting you out of here.”

One woman’s eyes widened and she pointed past him. “Look out!”

His right paw immediately snapped out behind him, seizing the face of the Wyrmrider that had tried to catch him off guard.

“Only the coldest depths of Hell awaits the likes of you,” he snarled.

The Wyrmrider barely managed a scream. Every water molecule in his body suddenly slowed down, immediately forming crystalline bonds with one another. Ice formed in his blood vessels, bursting through the skin and forming a thin layer of frost all over his face. Every limb and body part froze, blood turning solid and the man’s eyes turning into crystal. Harm pushed the frozen Wyrmrider away, the sadistic raider crashing to the ground and shattering like glass.

Harm rushed into the cages, grabbing a poor man whose legs were missing and hastily bandaged. “I’ve got you. Come on.”

The remaining prisoners hurried out of the cages and upon Harm’s instructions, charged towards the skiff which was quickly coming free of its bonds. There was no clear way down to the vessel.

“Aria!” he shouted, the prisoner clinging to his shoulder desperately.

She caught sight of him and with a flick of her wrist, crystal platforms sprang up from the sides of the skiff leading all the way up to where they were positioned. Relieved prisoners scampered down the makeshift stairs. Wyrmriders screeched at them and from the other weapon platforms, aimed crude crossbows.

Hell no!

A crossbow bolt sang through the air and rushed towards a man’s head as he fled down the stairs. Harm immediately appeared in the trajectory of the bolt, free of the man he was carrying and hovering momentarily in the air. The Wulfun swung Timekeeper, swatting the projectile aside. At the same time, the Harm carrying the legless man continued to bring up the rear of the fleeing prisoners. A hailstorm of bolts can soaring down from above but instances of Harm Chronos appeared instantaneously right before they would strike the escapees like a spontaneously appearing lupine shield. All the while, Harm continued to carry the man until they reached the skiff where he handed the man over to a nearby sailor.

Aria arrived beside him, dismissing the crystal platforms to prevent any Wyrmriders from following them.

“That was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” she accused with a sly smile.

“What makes you say that?” he replied, returning a smirk.

“You knew that there were likely prisoners in the Slaughtership. You wanted us to get captured so that you can search it for prisoners. At the same time, you used the Wyrmriders are projectiles to find us an escape route.”

He flicked an ear in her direction as he held his paw up towards the sails, golden rings once more surrounding the entire ship. “You give me too much credit, Aria. You know I don’t have plans. I just make people think I do.”

The entire skiff became encased in the same golden light as before and with a sudden burst of speed, it shot right out of the Slaughtership’s maw, bringing it a good distance away from the gargantuan capital ship. It was only a five minute lead, not enough to exhaust Harm but far enough that he could turn towards the captain.

“Bring us beside the ship!” he shouted.

“What?” exclaimed the sailor. “Why?”

Harm bolted up towards the captain’s platform as the smaller Wyrmrider ships began to close in on them again. “Just trust me.”

With a shrug, the captain veered the skiff over to the side. They were still far slower than the Slaughtership and with a few dozen extra people on the ship, their speed had dropped.

“We’ll never outrun them!” one of the sailors shouted.

Aria laughed softly and folded her arms. “We’re not going to.”

She watched coolly as Harm held up a paw in the direction of the Slaughtership which was now sailing right beside them, dwarfing their small skiff. Broadside cannons were leveled at them. No doubt the ship’s captain was now angry enough that capturing the skiff was no longer an option.

“Harm mentioned that he had to take a lot of calculations into consideration when he accelerated us through time to give us that head start. Likely had to do something similar when he shot us out of the Slaughtership’s mouth.” She nodded in the direction of the stunned sailors. “What happens when he does not do that to an entire Slaughtership.”

Golden rings of light encased Harm’s wrist and those same rings suddenly appeared to encase the entire Slaughtership, larger than the skiff was long. Golden light broke the darkness that was the Sunless Lands. Awed and terrified Wyrmriders who had no idea what had transpired within the bowels of their ship.

BOOM!

In an instant, the ship immediately shot forward but not as one would suspect. Wind sheer, sudden acceleration and immediate deceleration coupled with the intense friction of the entire vessel speeding through the air transformed the entire Slaughtership into a tremendous ball of golden flame. It only jerked forward perhaps a hundred meters or so but to cross a hundred meters in the span of a nanosecond and come to an abrupt stop was enough to shatter the entire ship into splinters and for those splinters to transform into flaming debris. That was not even beginning to consider what happened to the crew onboard.

One moment, there was a titanic ship that towered over them like a storm cloud sailing right beside them…

… then the next, there was a golden flash and it was gone.

Harm lowered his paw, flicking his wrist to get rid of the golden runes as their surroundings was plunged once more into near-perpetual darkness only broken by the lamps around the ship. He eyed the two ships that had accompanied the Slaughtership, quietly challenging them to come at him.

They wisely veered away.

Aria Valkyrie shook her head at the stunned expressions of the crew and the rescued prisoners.

“And that is the power of the Last Chronomancer.”

Flareclaw

Arriving in the nearby Cathalos Lighthouse was rather uneventful. Harm spent a lot of time amongst the former prisoners helping Aria heal wounds with his Chronomancy and listening with a sympathetic ear to the plight of the tortured. Some had been prisoners of the Wyrmriders for months and his Chronomancy couldn’t rewind time that far without draining his reserves completely. Thankfully, Aria’s Divine Magic could take it from there and crystalline light wound cuts closed, eased bruises and even recreated lost limbs. Many of the survivors were openly weeping when an arm was restored and they gave Aria tight hugs. Harm supported her by using his Chronomancy to restore her energy reserves. One of the reasons they worked so well together; she could cast her powerful spells and he could support her to keep her supplies from running dry.

The captain of the ship had called Cathalos ahead of time and about two hours later, two escort ships had arrived to ensure they weren’t accosted further. The extra weight of the thirty or so survivors had slowed their advance so many of the injured were brought to the other ships and they arrived in Cathalos another two hours later.

Prayers and praise was thrown in Aria’s way as an easily recognizable Templar. Rumors had already begun to spread about Harm, however. The golden-eyed Chronomancer; the living boogeyman that had saved them. The poor children that had been captured were purposefully kept away from him for fear that he would steal their soul.

Not that I can blame them. Chronomancers left their mark on this world…

Harm sat by the railings of the ship as he watched the survivors disembark and mill about the Lighthouse’s port. A little Bovios girl, no more than five years of age with all of her fur shaved off looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. He gave her a little wave and she immediately turned away to bury her face into the legs of her mother.

“Don’t let that get to you,” Aria advised, coming up beside him. “She’s young. She doesn’t know better.”

He let out a soft laugh as he idly watched extra supplies being brought to the skiff. “I don’t blame her. Or her mother who likely filled her head with the stories of demonic Chronomancers. It’s completely justified. They were monsters just like me who inflicted a wound upon this world that will never heal.”

Especially here in the Sunless Lands.

One particular Chronomancer had sought to use the fertile black sands to try and resurrect her own son. Chronomancy could do a lot of things and while it was technically possible to resurrect someone entirely even if they had been dead for centuries and without a physical body, it would take an exorbitant amount of resources. Almost an entire country’s worth.

She had aimed to sacrifice the entire Sunless Lands just to bring back a facsimile of her long-dead son who had passed away of old age in the happy arms of his wife and children centuries ago.

Seriously, fuck you Evaryn.

Aria’s hand fell on his shoulder, gently squeezing it with a comforting warm radiating from the contact. “But you’re not like them. You are the only Chronomancer who rebelled against his entire nation. The only one that stood against the Golden Tide.” She gave him a smile and nudged him gently. “I shall keep reminding you of your heroics and selflessness for as long as it takes for you to get out of this self-depreciating mindset.”

He gave her a gentle shake of his head and regarded her from the corner of his eyes. “As I recall, you weren’t exactly my biggest fan the first time we met.”

She shrugged absently before leaning her back against the railings. “To my credit, we were in the midst of the Purge of Time and you suddenly appeared and told us you were defecting.”

“I would have defected earlier but I was captured and imprisoned by my own people.”

Not to mention I still hoped to convince them to stop that crusade of conquest…

“Onto brighter topics,” Harm said, waving away the past and her hand. “When are we heading off to Flareclaw?”

“Soon.”

The captain was just having the damage to the ship repaired and supplies restocked. Aria used her clout to convince the Lighthouse to provide them with an escort. Though both she and Harm were more than capable of holding off marauders, the same could not be said about the other sailors. Many had suffered injuries; some close to fatal. Their morale could easily be shaken.

“Can they be trusted not to blab about my unique situation?” Harm asked.

“Not that anyone will believe them,” Aria answered with a shrug. “As far as anyone is concerned, the Chronomancers were wiped out by the Church during the Purge of Time. Worst case, you can be considered my ‘pet’ on some secret Church business.”

Harm flashed her a mischievous grin. “Oh, your pet you say? Why Lady Valkyrie, I never knew you were into pup-play. Shall I get the bondage gear?”

She grabbed his muzzle in one hand and pushed him away. “Glad to have you back to your usual self, Chronos.”

He laughed lightly and turned to face the distant black sands beyond the well-lit, sandstone walls of the Lighthouse. “Sorry to worry you. Being back here and hearing about what those Wyrmriders did to those poor, tortured souls just reminded me of the Evergreen.”

There, Aria’s features darkened. “Evaryn the Evergreen Chronomancer. We fought her on these very lands during the Purge.” She followed his gaze out into the planes. “I had forgotten about her. She was incredibly twisted. Even amongst the other Chronomancers.”

“Everyone is twisted in their own right,” Harm said with a shrug. “There are dark thoughts, obscene fetishes and curious desires that people harbor no matter how ‘pure’ they may be. It is the constant limitation of mortality that keeps these in check. But when you remove that limiter and introduce a near-infinite resource to fulfill those desires…”

He trailed off, recalling the mad, insane, golden stares of his fellow Chronomancers as they began draining the Time from everything and everyone around them to fulfill their wildest fantasies. Somewhere deep in his soul, however, he drew some sick satisfaction in remembering how he worked with Aria, Lumire and Sophia to bring down each of them, to remind them of their mortality and eliminate them one by one.

Dark desires, indeed.

“On that note,” he said, glancing over to her, “Evaryn was obsessed with resurrecting her son. Despite her insanity, she followed a scientific process.”

“Sacrificing the entire population of this country was a ‘scientific process’?” Aria countered with a half-lidded stare.

“I didn’t say it was a good process.” He gave her a light smile. “My question though pertains to Flareclaw. In these scenarios, there’s usually some sort of super-secret research being conducted. I’m willing to wager it’s either…” He held up three fingers, listing off his theories one by one. “… ancient forbidden technologies, illegal genetic manipulation or weapons research.”

Amethyst eyes rolled at him. “You’ve been binging too many of those thriller shows.”

He grinned at her. “Please! I read thrillers. I have some class.” His smile faded, however. “But seriously, what are they researching at Flareclaw? Do you know?”

Her tone turned serious. “Do you know what species Edith Solholme is?”

“Avios. Why?”

“Do you know the one consistent disease that has plagued all Avios?”

Harm’s eyes widened and he quietly mouthed ‘Oh’. “The Molting Disease.”

For a society that placed great emphasis on the color and maintenance of their feathers, the Molting Disease was akin to losing all of one’s fur or hair. It was far from fatal and did come with some health concerns but those that suffered from it were often cast a social pariahs. Treatments existed to slow down the progression of the curse and prosthetics existing in the upper Stations, but once inflicted there was nothing to prevent the Disease from ultimately claiming every feather on an Avios’ body.

“I heard that there was a belief that the Molting Disease was a curse from the Phoenixes for what the Avios did to them,” Harm mumbled softly. “Far easier to blame a long extinct race that was supposedly cruel, draconian and tyrannical than one’s own genetics.”

Aria gently flicked the back of her hand against his chest. “Even easier for beings like us who are mostly immune to disease to pass such judgment.”

“We’ve all got our burdens to bear, Aria. I can’t eat, sleep or ever change my appearance from what it is now. You are forced to die the moment you bear a child. Sex with you always has to be protected.” He inclined his head to the side. “All things considered, why have we never slept together? Anything that shoots out of me will always just go back into me seconds later. It’s the ultimate birth control.”

Aria rolled her eyes again and pushed off the railings. “Because of one name.” She leaned towards him, smirking devilishly. “Orgasmiir.”

Harm shuddered at the nickname of the Chronomancer of Pleasures; the one idiotic Chronomancer that decided that the body he was permanently stuck with for all eternity would be one caught in a constant state of orgasm. The name he was given was actually Erectus but other Chronomancers just called him ‘Orgasmiir’ because he constantly made a sound akin to a long, drawn out ‘me’ whenever he was spoken to because of his… affliction.

“That fight was less difficult as it was extremely uncomfortable,” he muttered, shuddering. “I swear, I’ll never feel clean after that.”

Aria grimaced at the horrible memory. “You and me both.”

The captain had the ship running within the hour and they were departing the Lighthouse shortly afterwards. Though it was still a few hours ride to the research facility, Harm grew impatient. His mind was reeling at the thought of someone finding a cure for the Molting Disease. It would be the breakthrough of the century especially for a more primitive society like Incendius.

Magic and technology had advanced well in recent years especially in the highly-populated and advanced upper Stations. Avios who suffered from the Molting Disease could slap on prosthetics, graft feathers from donors or use magic to disguise their missing feathers as necessary. There was a particular head of a charity, a female Avios, who had left a lasting impression on him; something that was a feat in and of itself for a Chronomancer.

I wonder if Lumire invited me to that event to prepare me for this mission…

?

******

?

The tie was constricting his breathing and he felt incredibly naked without his ever-present scarf around his neck. Being Timelocked with his current attire, there were few options for customization over his leather vest, white shirt and blue pants but Lumire had insisted he at least try to be presentable and wore a matching hexweave blue coat with a tie. Amongst the other wealthy and opulent of Haven, the 13th Station of Tower Thirteen, he still stuck out as an obvious outsider.

Everyone else was dressed in either the latest fashions - blending function and flamboyance almost seamlessly. There was a woman dressed in bright, green, transparent dress with five, hovering rings of differing sizes quietly orbiting her waist. The man who hooked his arm around hers was dressed in a bright red hexweave suit, the velvety fabric of his suit textured with soft, overlapping hexagons that were only barely visible in the right light. Not too far away, a burly Bovios flexed his impressive biceps, his muscles tearing through the fabric of his suit to the applause of those around him. Moments later, the shards of cloth flew back around his body, automatically repairing themselves for him to execute another flex to similar effect. A few young blonde women of differing races danced a short distance away in garments that hugged their bodies and flashed advertisements for their sponsors and political views across their breasts and rump.

Even Lumire, the Propheticus Primoris, head of the Church of the Tower, the single most powerful man in all of Tower Thirteen and the man who had formally adopted Harm as his brother stood with glimmering, holographic banners over his shoulders, flying like pennants that clearly stated that he supported whatever cause that they were attending in various dialects and languages. Lumire’s jet-black hair was a waterfall of night that fell back down his back and was tied back in a sensible braid. Whenever he wasn’t officiating any Church business, he went without the ridiculous crown that marked him as the leader of the world’s foremost and most powerful military. Today, he wore a gold and white suit that were magically enchanted to cause glimmering lights shaped like the emblem of the Church to dance away from his shoulders and legs with every few steps he took.

Haven was a constant competition of creativity. Attention and reputation was the single greatest commodity one could accumulate. In a land where basic commodities like food, water and electricity were provided for free, the only thing people had to lord over one another was their name. It was a completely alien concept to most of the other Stations especially Xaos which was still in an age of intense capitalism and corporate competition.

Can’t really imagine anyone from Diatollia adopting well here… The amount of water we have would probably have them calling us wasteful heathens…

A hand rested on his shoulder and Lumire brought him to the forefront of a small crowd, beaming brightly. Though it had been a very long while since the Propheticus Primoris had seen actual combat, he maintained his immense, muscular form that came from being a member of the Custodia Deos. A 6’5’’ human, brimming with muscles was an impressive sight for anyone regardless of their political clout. Lumire’s easy going grin, bright blue eyes and handsome features complete with copper skin and high cheekbones easily made him someone wanted to befriend.

“I’d like to introduce you to my brother!” exclaimed the Primoris. “This is Harm Chronos.” Lumire patted Harm’s back and gently pushed him forward into the crowd of Havenese socialites.

Harm regarded them all with a lazy, sweeping gaze and casual wave but didn’t say anything.

Lumire nudged his back with an elbow. “Say something, Harm,” he said loudly. “Introduce yourself. What’s on your mind?”

With a sigh, the 6 foot even Wulfun just let out a soft sigh and loosened his tie a little more. “I was wondering what is possibly the most controversial thing I could say that would get me summarily kicked out of this event. I briefly considered shouting ‘death to babies’ or ‘lobotomies for all’.” Lumire’s smile froze in a look of horror and those around him widened their eyes in shock. “But then I realized that the Molting Disease is no laughing matter and I should get my lazy ass to actually pay attention to what could essentially be the single most crippling and incurable disease plaguing Avios in all of Tower Thirteen.”

Smiles relaxed, eyes returned to their usual level of bulging and stances eased. Even Lumire allowed a soft sigh as Harm continued.

“As a Wulfun, I honestly can’t imagine what it would be to live the rest of my life without my fur,” Harm continued. “I honestly can’t imagine how humans do it!” There was a soft ripple of laughter from the gathered crowd. “As a species, birds evolved feathers to not only identify one another but as forms of camouflage, to help their flight and protection. While Avios are entirely different species, I can’t imagine evolution would have been so cruel to take such a vicious left turn and deprive a noble species of an outward expression of their individuality. It’d be like if someone decided to paint every Wulfun out there white, give them brown hair and the same colored eyes as me.”

He made a point to avoid naming the exact color of his eyes.

“But I am not a man of empty platitudes,” said the Chronomancer with a wave of his paw. “That is why, I plan to run a little fund-raiser of my own.” He raised his voice, lifting a paw through the air. “I will shave off my fur for all to see to stand in resolute unity alongside every Avios!”

This caught applause from the crowd.

Then, Harm grabbed Lumire’s shoulder and pulled him over. “And my brother will shave his head too!”

The applause immediately stopped… then there was a roar of laughter and even louder applause.

Lumire, face frozen in a bright grin spoke from the corner of his lips between clenched teeth. “Bastard!”

“Come on now, brother dear,” Harm replied, waving at those around him while whispering. “Where’s your spirit of charity? Surely shaving your head would be a small spectacle compared to the amount of money we can raise?”

“I’m not complaining about my part. I’m aggravated that anyone shaving you will find your fur jumping back onto your skin seconds later!”

Harm batted his eyes at Lumire coyly. “Then they’ll have to shave me quick, won’t they?”

Lumire stepped past him, addressing the crowd and working out the details of the impromptu event that had already started garnering donations. Harm quietly slid back amongst the crowd, shuffling back into the shadows as everyone wanted to commend the Primoris for his bravery and dedication to the cause.

Even during the Purge of Time, Lumire had been the face of the crusade against the Chronomancers. Aria was the aggressor that constantly challenged Harm while Harm was the renegade Chronomancer that had defected and fought on the side of the Church. Then there was Sophia who kept them all level-headed and on task.

Sophia… How I miss you.

A flute glass filled with bubbling champagne was suddenly pushed into his paw and he was surprised to find an Avios - of the swan subspecies - smiling at him while batting her long, golden lashes at him.

“Ah, thank you,” he said, offering the glass back. “But I don’t drink.”

“I know,” she answered sweetly. “I just wanted you to hold that for me while I finish this one.” She drained the champagne from the glass in her hand before swapping their glasses. This one she nursed. “Besides, Chronomancers can’t drink.”

Wait… huh?

Immediately on guard, Harm said, “How very astute of you. Somewhat related topic, have you ever had a lobotomy or are you open to having one? Maybe even a little memory wipe?”

Her gruff laugh caused the white feathers all over her body to ripple. The rippling effect washed over his body, turning the feathers a light pink. “I consider myself very open-minded, Mr. Chronos, but not that open-minded. And you need not worry. Your brother briefed me and my entourage of your… condition.” She held out her feathered hand. “Anita Oakley. The organizer of this overdressed and drunken farce.”

Harm took her offered hand and gave it a light shake. “The pleasure is mine to meet such an esteemed and clearly observant…” He inclined his head slightly. “… I’m going to say sufferer of the Molting Disease or at least close relative of someone who has suffered it.”

She gave him a very light nod of acknowledgment. “Yes, I suffer from it myself. These feathers of mine are magical illusions that give off the appearance of real feathers that change color according to my whims and mood. In truth, I don’t have a single feather on my body.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Now if only I could reincarnate like the legendary Phoenixes or have some form of immortality like you then I wouldn’t care so much.”

His eyes drifted to the countless others milling about the grand hall. “The things we do to keep up appearances.”

“Indeed. Something tells me you’d rather be out there terrorizing little children who don’t go to bed when their parents say so to steal their ‘time’ than up here milling about such a gaudy display of wealth and opulence.”

“And I’m sure you’d rather be raising up arms against your tyrannical masters leading to their eventual genocide and potentially the cause of the curse that’s stripped you of your feathers.”

There, Anita gave him a sidelong glance a soft smirk. “So you subscribe to the theory that the Molting Disease is caused by the Avios’ sins? That because we fought for our freedom against the Phoenixes who treated us like little more than cattle and ate us at their convenience that we were cursed to lose our feathers?”

Harm turned his gaze back to her, his features still. “We still don’t know the cause of the Molting Disease. I know several Chronomancers who tried to figure it out but none of them ever could. Many found ways to stall or outright stop it. There was one Chronomancer, Flight the Feathered Chronomancer. He dedicated his entire life to figuring out how to give people ‘eternal feathers’. He didn’t even try to figure out a cure for the Molting Disease. He just found a way to patch it.”

“What happened to this esteemed Chronomancer?”

Harm turned away from her, looking back towards Lumire. “I killed him. On the black plains of the Rhazulmaad Desert in the Sunless Lands of Incendius. In near pitch-black darkness, we fought and in the end, I tore the feathers from his body, accelerated them to relativistic speeds and shot them through his body. Then I tore him from the time line.”

Anita shook her head in amazement. “Even hearing the abridged version makes it sound like a battle between gods.”

“The gods came and went. New ones came to replace them and they were killed by their creations. In every age, there are leaders that eventually fade either through hubris, internal fighting or something else like… rebellion.” He turned his gaze back to her, offering a faint smile. “But to answer your question, I don’t subscribe to any theory as to the cause of the Molting Disease. Until something is proven, I’m not going to waste any effort trying to figure out the why of it. Crying over those that have suffered won’t stop them from suffering.”

“Then what do you suggest, Lord Chronos?” she asked with a mocking flick of her wrist.

He suddenly snatched that very same wrist, causing her to freeze. Upon his touch, the pink feathers covering her flesh faded away, little particles of light peeling away from the contact and leaving the pink, wrinkled flesh beneath. There was a flash of fear in her eyes but following that was a spark of defiance. No doubt was in her eyes that he could obliterate her with a single thought. Over the two thousand years since the Purge of Time, the tale of the Chronomancers had grown to such exaggerated levels that they had become the boogeymen that was used to scare children; the devourers of time that could sneak in on you in the middle of the night and turn a newly born child into dust as if they had lived a whole life and been buried for centuries. How she remained composed despite growing up with such tales fascinated him.

“I could turn back time,” he responded, gentle golden light emanating from his fingertips. “Bring your body back to a point where it still had its feathers.” For emphasis, gentle, creamy-white feathers sprung from her pink flesh, covering it and melding seamlessly with her illusionary pink coat. Her surprise mounted and she immediately pulled her hand away. “Then again, without knowing the cause of the Disease, you’d have to visit me every time your feathers started to fall away. It would be no inconvenience to me. I could sit here for all eternity giving out this gift, turning back time for your physical bodies until such a time that you all grow tired of living and beg me to let you die.”

She regarded her recovered hand and with a few muttered words, used her magic to envelop her restored feathers in her illusions. “Do you have such a low opinion of us mere mortals that you think we would grow bored of immortality and let ourselves die?”

A sardonic edge entered his smile. “You tell me. Why would anyone who is so comfortable in their mortality be obsessed with maintaining the illusion that they are perfect, fine and covered in feathers?”

Anita’s black, dark eyes locked with his and a slight frown touched her features. Without breaking that gaze, she gulped the last of her champagne and shoved the empty flute glass into his remaining paw. Then she marched past him in a huff.

He watched her disappear into the crowd and shrugged.

“Time waits for no man,” he sighed softly. “No getting around that with technicalities that you’re a woman or anything in between.” He turned his gaze towards the glistening ceiling which was covered by illusions of countless feathers dancing over a brilliant, starry night sky. “The God of Time doesn’t care what you’ve got between your legs. He’s not going to wait for you to shit, fuck, cum or wipe yourself.” He lifted the glass in his paw as if to toast some invisible patron. “When he calls your name, you have no choice but to answer. It’s just a question of whether or not you’re ready.”

He tipped the glass towards his lips only to remember that was empty.

“I miss alcohol,” he groaned.

There was a sudden hush the befell the gathered crowd and all eyes were turned towards a central podium. Anita had positioned herself there.

Harm’s heart sank.

I’m going to get blamed for this…

“Thank you for all your kind donations,” Anita began, her voice coming through cleanly and crisply over the speakers. “A special thanks to the Propheticus Primoris who has decided to stand with us in solidarity.” Applause rang out again and Lumire was singled out with a spotlight. Anita was tactful enough to let the cheering die down before she continued. “As you know, the Molting Disease, while far from fatal, has been the cause of great strife in the long history of the Avios species. In ages past, those who suffered from it were ostracized and treated like pariahs. In our darker times, they were even killed on sight for fear of the Disease. Molting Colonies were built and even the imposing Gray Sun on Incendius which the Incendius Inquisition calls their base of operations once started as a Molting Colony.”

A moment’s pause. Her words sank in and a solemn mood fell upon the gathered crowd. No one moved. No one dared to breathe. Some people purposefully shutoff their own flashy attire just to fit the mood.

“These actions were born out of intolerance and ignorance. If only our ancestors knew now that the Disease is neither contagious nor hereditary. If only they had the technology and magic we have now, perhaps so many atrocities would have been avoided. But they didn’t and even today, we still see people subconsciously have these biases that while we suppress, are ingrained and inbuilt into us to veer away from them is almost akin to cutting off a limb.”

She gripped the sides of the podium tightly. “I recently had a conversation with a rather interesting person.”

Oh boy, here we go.

“It was pointed out that as head of this charity and your hostess, I am trying to raise awareness and push for a cure to this Disease. But I, too, am a victim of these same biases. How can I possibly get rid of the Molting Disease when there is a far greater disease festering within me, the disease of shame and intolerance?” She pressed a hand against her chest. “So it is with great pride that I present to you all today… myself.”

Little specks of light peeled away from her body. Her feathers began fading away, revealing the bare, pink flesh beneath. Though she still wore her sombre, black dress, her flesh was completely exposed. Whispering and gasps rippled throughout the crowd. Harm flicked his ears, catching the hushed conversations marveling at her bravery and praising her message.

But there were always detractors.

And that irked him.

Time stopped. Everyone froze in place. Except for Harm. He quietly walked towards a pair of Vulpunus ladies who he heard talking about how it was all an illusion.

“But did you see her hand?” he asked. “It can’t be an illusion if she left her one hand covered in feathers.”

Then he strode to were two men were disgusted at her pink flesh.

“Would make sex easier, though. I mean, you won’t have to worry about feathers getting everywhere.”

A short distance away, a Tigris couple complained about how she made the entire event about her when it was meant to be about the victims of the Disease.

“She is a sufferer of the disease. I think it’s really brave of her, especially here in Haven, to have exposed herself like that.”

Over and over, he picked out conversations, planting his whispers and words while putting them on a slow delay. Every few steps, he let out a few claps of applause and when he finally placed himself back where he started, he released time from his grip. The effect was instantaneous. His whispers were released all at once, the words coming out clearly in the ears of the detractors. At the same time, his distributed applause rippled through the crowd. As was to be expected, when someone started clapping - even if no one saw who it was - everyone started doing the same. Harm did the same, even going so far as to put two fingers in his lips and let out a whistle of approval.

In mere moments, the audience was cheering her name.

?

*****

?

“Harm!”

The Chronomancer jerked in surprise. It took him a whole second to realize that his surroundings were entirely different. Ears perked, he took in the fact that he was no longer under the warm, green glow of the Lighthouse. Instead, harsh, artificial light coming from spotlights and crystal lamps surrounded him. The dark, ominous spire of one of the Blacktooth Mountains loomed in front of him. Large, industrial facilities sat around him. Silos, pipes and what appeared to be the spires of a refinery jutted out in defiance to the dark backdrop of the ominous mountains that cut right through the middle of the Sunless Lands like ebony claws of a sleeping giant rising from deep underground.

They had arrived at Flareclaw.

“Geez,” he mumbled softly to himself, rubbing his head between his ears. “How long had I drifted off?”

“Hours, sir,” replied a passing sailor as he unloaded a few crates down onto the dock of the research facility. “Lady Valkyrie told us not to interrupt you. Said you were ‘dreaming’.”

Harm grimaced softly and rubbed his eyes. The problem with living far beyond your alloted time especially when you could not sleep or dream was getting caught in memory. Time often blurred together into a seamless nothing when the same thing happened over and over again. Time dilation, it was called. In times of quiet and relative peace, Harm often got lost in his memories, reliving them as if he was actually there. Such memories stuck out in the eternity that he had lived and were like stepping stones that kept him from being washed away in the tide of time’s ever-flowing current.

Flicking his scarf over his shoulder, he strode down the gangplank to the docks. There were a large group of men and women of different species but mostly Avios standing there to greet them, all of them dressed in the long hexweave lab coats of Havenese researchers.

Haven _…? I know the head researcher is Incendian that got Havenese education but I didn’t think they were_ all from Haven_ …?_

Unless…?

He cast a quick glance around him at the various buildings and equipment around them. The platform they were standing on was made out of wood and typical Incendian infrastructure. The silos, however, were metallic and more akin to Xaosian technology. Perhaps the only thing that really screamed Havenese was the large communications tower that was surrounded by stabilizing Grav-rings and jutting crystals. The facility seemed like it had been patched together from different technologies and different Stations.

His musings were interrupted when a panicky Avios of the parrot subspecies came charging forward.

“Three ships!?” he bellowed, waving his colorful, feathered hands everywhere. He was addressing one of the sailors. “Three ships aren’t enough to carry all of us! Didn’t your commanding officers tell you that we have over three hundred personnel here!? You can’t fit three hundred people on your little wooden ships!”

Clearly from one of the upper Stations.

A burly Viperion stepped up to the man and pulled him back. As opposed to the others, he was not dressed as a scientist. His creamy-green scales caught the light from the lamps around them, adding a startling contrast against his nearly, all-black military armor. This was modern armor. Judging from the kevlar vest, utility belt with too many pockets and heavy, camouflaged pants, he was likely from Xaos.

“Easy there, mate,” said the snake. “They’re jus’ tryin’ ta help.”

Accent was distinctly Xaosian too.

The man turned to the sailor, offering an easy smile. The man was easily 7’3’’ tall, unusual for a Viperion, and heavily muscled. Viperions were typically slim, athletic and extremely flexible. Bright green eyes shone like emeralds in the twilight of the research facility and his voice was gravelly from years of smoking but still health a youthful edge that made him a little endearing. Then again, Harm couldn’t exactly judge. Wulfuns were normally 7 and a half feet tall on average and could make any human bodybuilder blush with envy. He was more like Vulpunus with his height and build.

The soldier introduced himself as Kaiver Warson and he was a Xaosian immigrant. As one last attempt to charm the sailor, he offered the man a cigarette from his breast pocket.

“Those things will kill you,” Aria said, striding down the gangway. The sight of the pauldorns of a Templar instantly ignited hope in the eyes of each of the people on the dock and there were even some of them who fell to their knees and began uttering prayers of worship. To many, Templars were basically like demigods sent by the Mother Goddess herself to protect them from the harshness of the broken world.

Kaiver didn’t move and just gave her a lopsided smile. “Have ya e’er tried one, madam Templar? It helps calm yer nerves ‘specially when yer trapped in th’ dark surrounded by goddamn, fuckin’ slavers eager ta string ya up like a whore on Naked Nights.”

A female Avios, the tallest amongst the congregation stepped forward and slapped the cigarettes from Kaiver’s hands. “Have some respect, Kaiver! Do not talk to a Templar like that.” She turned towards Aria, bowing in such a way that her red feathers were cleared to see in the light. Harm couldn’t quite put a finger on her species. She had the hooked beak of an eagle but a crown of feathers from her forehead more akin to a hawk. “I apologize for our head of security, Lady Templar. I am Edith Solholme. I lead this facility.”

Aria held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you professor. We have heard much.” She beckoned for Harm to approach. “I am Aria Valkyrie. Templar of the Church of the Tower. This is my associate, Harm Chronos.”

Harm bent down and picked up the packet of cigarettes from the ground and offered them back to Kaiver. “Boroslam. Interesting brand of choice.”

Kaiver grinned at him. “Ya know it?”

“Only by reputation. They’re notorious for causing hideous breath.”

The Viperion grinned at him, leaning down and flashing him a predatory wink. “Only way ta find out is ta give me a kiss. Ya up fer it, cutie?”

He’s bold, I’ll give him that.

“I’m not much for foreplay,” Harm answered calmly. “I prefer to get to the point.”

Kaiver waggled his eyebrows which were really just bony ridges over his eyes. “Oh yeah?” He licked his lips, showing his forked tongue. “What did ya have in mind?”

“My sword. Down your throat.”

It was at that moment, that the security officer noticed that Timekeeper had been drawn and was subtly leveled at his neck. Kaiver’s slitted eyes boggled for a moment then he pulled back and let out a hearty laugh.

“Damn! You’re ballsy, foxie! I like ya!”

Harm strode past Kaiver to reach Aria, folding Timekeeper back into its passive state and letting it hang from his waist. “For clarity, I’m a Wulfun.” At that moment, Kaiver’s utility bent dropped from his waist, sliced in two places cleanly. His pants immediately dropped a moment later, sliding off his long tail and from around his thick thighs. “I won’t remind you again.”

Kaiver just laughed again.

“Ya sure ya don’t wanna fuck, dude? You already got my pants off!”

Harm’s ears twitched in agitation but he chose to ignore the boisterous security officer and turned to Professor Solholme. “Professor,” he greeted. “I understand you requested evacuation.”

“We did,” she replied sternly. “I can imagine the power of a Templar aiding us in this fashion. I assume she can create great ships with her Creation Magic but I fail to understand why your men are dropping off supplies.”

Harm exchanged glances with Aria who took over the conversation.

“We are not here to offer extraction, Professor,” said Aria. “We are merely here to secure and assess the threat to the site.” Before Edith or any of the other civilians could protest, Aria quickly said, “Your message was cryptic and my superiors found it hard to believe that you would require extraction given this facility has been in operation for several years and has endured similar sandstorms in the past. The storm is only meant to last a week, perhaps two at most. So the Church has decided to send two of its greatest agents to assess the situation while offering supplies to ensure you all survived the storm.” Her piercing stare traveled across the gathered group. “Now unless you can offer us a reason as to why you need immediate extraction…?”

Predictably, the scientists were silent. Even Kavier who bent down and picked up the remnants of his pants offered nothing.

Great. All bets still on secret weapon, illegal genetic mutations or ancient secrets.

“We feel threatened.”

The sharp, crisp and no-nonsense statement of Professor Solholme almost brought Harm back to his time at the Chronomancer Academy where his teachers would scold him for setting off explosives ‘in the name of science’.

“By what?” Aria asked, genuine concern in her voice despite the blunt nature of her question.

“I’m sure you’ve seen that there has been an increased level of Wyrmrider raids recently. A simple sand skiff would not have been escorted here if there was not a need for extra security.”

Harm nudged Aria lightly. “We were attacked by a Slaughtership.”

“You guys out_ran_ a Slaughtership!?” blurted Kaiver. “Mate, how the fuck did ya manage that?”

He threw a dagger-sharp stare at the Viperion while offering a devilish stare. “It’s very easy to outrun anything when it’s been reduced to a pile of ash.”

“Damn!” Kaiver’s eyes went directly to Aria. “I knew Templars were strong but ta take down a ‘ole Slaughtership! Goddamn! Where can I get summa o’ that?”

A whole anvil of humiliation slammed into the side of Harm’s head as Kaiver - respectfully - stepped around him and moved towards Aria.

But I was the one that destroyed the ship…

Spectacularly too…

Aria waved away Kaiver’s fawning and pressed Professor Solholme to continue. Perhaps realizing that they would not be escaping on the very ships that had brought them supplies, the crimson feathered Solholme led them away from the docks while dejected civilians guided the sailors to their warehouses.

“Wyrmriders have started becoming increasingly aggressive as of late,” said the Professor. She led them down the ‘streets’ of the research facility which, as Harm took more of it in, was more akin to a small town surrounding what appeared to be a bunker built into the mountain itself. The outlying facilities and the docks had more civilian purposes such as housing, food store, power generation and what he guessed was waste disposal. The majority of the research had to be done in the mountain itself.

“We’ve had three raids in the last month alone.” Solholme gestured towards the east. “One of our walls was nearly been breached. The first two raids were repelled by our automated systems. Thank the Mother Goddess for our Haven tech. But once they found us, they started increasing their attacks.”

“Told you we should’ve killed ‘em,” grunted Kaiver. “We let ‘em escape with their tails between their legs n’ they jus’ come back with more.”

“We are not killers, Kaiver,” insisted Solholme, piercing red eyes causing the Viperion that was twice her size to cringe away from her. “We’re scientists. We act in self-defense.” She flicked back her short, ruby-red hair which was styled in a tomboyish cut and regarded Aria with a softer expression. “The research we have done here is crucial and incredibly important. As guests to the Sunless Lands, the Sultan has done nothing to prevent these attacks. He sees us Havenese intruders mining his precious resources and greedy mainlanders who ran out of space and are trying to encroach upon their land.”

Harm glanced back in the direction of the southwest, in the direction of the glimmering Glasterah. Even with all the lights and casinos of the ‘Jewel In The Darkness’ as the city was called, it could not pierce the depths of the Sunless Lands very far. Could the Sultan really be blamed if he didn’t care about a bunch of civilian researchers from the mainland when he had to protect his own city? The man had already granted them the opportunity to build this facility here. Was it really his responsibility to offer it protection too?

Deciding to bite his tongue, he turned back towards Edith as the researcher said that billions had been spent on the facility and the research being undertaken within its walls. She, personally, had spent over a decade researching the Molting Disease. It was heartbreaking to make the decision to abandon the facility.

“So I beg for your understanding, Lady Valkyrie,” she concluded. “Please help my team evacuate.”

Her words struck a strange chord. “Your team,” the Templar repeated. “Not yourself?”

Solholme lifted her beak slightly. “I am not some mere administrator that pushes pencils and crunches numbers to be sent to the investors. On top of my managerial skills, I am quite skilled in academia. It was my paper on the War of the Wings that granted me my doctorate. I am also quite skilled in mechanics and automation. I can run this entire facility by myself.”

That was commendable. Suicidal but commendable.

Aria shook her head sadly. “Despite my authority amongst the Church, I cannot simply commission a starship to come and evacuate you all. Especially if there are hundreds of you plus your equipment. There are politics to be concerned with as well. Recall that you mentioned the Sultan is not exactly pleased with your presence. A Havenese or Incendian starship invading his airspace could spark an international incident. Which is why His Brightest Light sent us.”

Templars were universally loved. Demigods amongst mortals. To everyone else, Harm was just Aria’s retainer. No one would oppose them passing through borders political or physical.

Professor Solholme was growing agitated so Harm decided to intervene.

“That’s a Havenese communications tower, isn’t it?” he asked, pointing at the spire behind them with the grav-rings.

“Yes,” answered Solholme curtly. “Why do you ask?”

He glanced over to Aria. “That should be powerful enough to reach Haven. We can ask the Propheticus Primoris for reinforcements. It might still take time to muster the appropriate troops and he might have to navigate the political waters between the Sunless Lands and Incendius but I’m sure he can work through it. If anything, you and I can help defend this place until that happens.”

“We don’t have the food or water to feed two extra mouths!” shouted the parrot from the crowd. “Even with all these supplies, we won’t be able to last here for long if those Wyrmriders keep coming!”

“You’ll find that I don’t eat much and Lady Valkyrie is a master of Creation Magic. Between us, we can both create more of defenses, repair walls and even make more food as necessary.” He turned towards Solholme, beaming brightly. “So what do you say? Give us a tour of your place and tell us what you’re researching on our way to the comms tower so we can make the call?”

That seemed to appease her and she nodded with a soft sigh. “A sounds plan. Please. Follow me.”

As Solholme turned, Harm exchanged quick glances with Aria. She nodded in agreement.

There was more to this place than whatever it was that Solholme was going to tell them. In his mind, the loss of a research facility that cost billions to construct would be tantamount to terrorism. The Wyrmriders were ballsy but even they wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep attacking a heavily guarded facility. If the Sultan didn’t show support either and the facility was lost, Incendius could blame him for neglect. An international incident was already on the cusp of exploding.

This isn’t a mere evacuation.

They want something out_._

The Molting Disease

Flareclaw was a mutt of different scientific fields but all dedicated to the eradication of the Molting Disease. Due to the unknown nature of the sickness, people from different walks of life came to the facility and it’s relative autonomy to try and figure out a cure. Suddenly, the remoteness of Flareclaw made sense.

The Sunless Lands were relatively lawless. City states such as Glasterah were ruled by the whims of their Sultan. Any townships around the black deserts were governed by their own laws and the Wyrmriders were free to do whatever they pleased. While there was a council of Sultans that governed agreements amongst one another, they had neither the manpower or interest to rule everything between them. This facility was outside of prying eyes and mostly unregulated. Outside of the chaffing rules of Haven or the ultra-religious beliefs of the Incendian mainland, these researchers could pursue whatever they wanted so long as it took strides to curing the Molting Disease.

“This facility has stood for over fifty years,” continued Solholme as they stepped through one of the many ‘streets’ of the campus-like facility. It really was more like a small, isolated town in the perpetual darkness than a singular center of research and science. “Each year, we see people coming in and out. Adding their own contributions slowly before eventually leaving.”

Can’t imagine the near constant darkness and isolation of being in such a remote research facility under constant threat of attack from slavers and marauders would be good for anyone’s mental health.

She gestured with a crimson, feathered hand to her left at a large, red brick facility that looked like it came from Arret especially with those marble columns. A large dome sat atop the facility with a telescope angled towards the sky. “This was our Chaos Observatory. There was a branch of research that believe that the Molting Disease came from a Demon Lord and that by studying Chaos, we could find a way to cure it.”

“Chaos is never the answer,” huffed Aria. “It twists. It corrupts. It is the enemy of all Tower Thirteen.”

“A reason why that branch of research ended in failure after the researchers almost summoned a Lesser Demon to the facility in an attempt to learn secrets from it.”

Harm remained silent but eyed Solholme’s back cautiously.

I wonder exactly who decided that kind of research was the ‘limit’…

Solholme gestured at another building to their right which was a large, wooden mansion of sorts covered in talismans and ritualistic runes. “Here we have our Spirit Research Facility. Miasmans believe in ‘Spirits’ and here they attempt to commune with these Spirits to see if they can help with the cure.”

“Any luck with that?” Harm asked.

“Little. Spirits are non-sentient manifestations of pure Spirit Energy that have coalesced in environments because of high traffic of conscious thought,” replied Solholme with a matter-of-factly tone like a college professor lecturing a freshman. “They cannot teach us anything but they could potentially be used to discover a means to alleviate symptoms or even make a cure.”

“Spirit Arts are not condoned by the Church,” Aria stated.

“Then it’s a good thing we have authorities that do represent the Church to help balance things out,” answered Solholme as they approached perhaps the second biggest facility outside of the mountain. A temple. Two towering spires pierced the darkness, illuminated by burning, white flames with twin statues of the winged Sun Goddess Apollia and the majestic figure of the Mother Goddess framing the entrance. Chants echoed from within the facility and the air was simply electric with magic. Against the dark backdrop of darkness, it was almost a comforting sight.

Almost.

Harm had to pause in front of the Goddess Athena, regarding her gentle features and flowing, curly hair. As with many depictions of the Mother Goddess, she had her arms outstretched as if to welcome anyone and everyone to embrace her. There was a sash of some sort wrapped around her forearms that curled over her head to form a halo. A common depiction on Incendius as it alluded to the imagery of sun and light. This was in contrast to Havenese depictions of the Mother Goddess who was typically armed with a brilliant staff of light and dressed completely in armor.

Opposite to Athena was the winged Sun Goddess, the local deity of Incendius. Many called her a daughter of Athena. Others believer her to be just a subservient deity that replaced Athena’s fallen Apostle of Fire, Adramalech. There were entire streams of research devoted to the theology of the celestial pantheon. Apollia stood in contrast to Athena’s depiction. Here, she stood with her mace held up high, the very mace that stood upon the Sun Spire that provided light to all of the Incendian Mainland, the Scorium Axis. The wings sprouting from her back were feathered and outstretched which was odd as most people here in the Sunless Lands gave her leathery, bat wings. Her hair was long, streaming behind her like fire.

“Amazing,” he sighed softly to himself.

“Amazing that e’en out here, in th’ darkness, we still worship th’ light?” Kaiver asked, appearing beside the Chronomancer.

“No.” Harm tucked his paws into his pockets and turned to follow Aria and Solholme who now had a lead upon them. “What’s amazing is that despite this place being dedicated to research, they still spent a fortune on stupid statues.” As he increased his pace, he noticed how the architecture changed constantly as they embodied different forms of research. A building dedicated to Pyromancy had a lot of flames perched around its fences while one dedicated to Luxmancy glowed like a Lighthouse.

This place couldn’t have just been set up in fifty years. These buildings look older than that…

“Solholme used the excuse that this place is worth billions in whatever currency she was referring to justify it’s preservation,” he continued. “Maybe if you guys didn’t spend so much on statues and stained glass windows, it wouldn’t be such a loss if and when this place burns to the ground.”

“Apollia’s flaming tits, dude!” laughed Kaiver, slapping Harm’s back with enough force to force the Chronomancer to stumble forward. “Lighten up! Where else on the freakin’ Station would ya see so many different cultures comin’ t’gether fer a single goal?”

“That’s either a sad commentary on just how intolerant most Incendians are or how desperate the Avios are to cure the Molting Disease,” Harm muttered, shrugging off the impact of the blow.

The officer’s features fell slightly. “Dude. You are so bitter. What made ya like this?” Then he leaned down, muzzle an inch from Harm’s cheek. “An’ how much of my sugar will make ya sweet again?”

He gave the Viperion an exasperated sidelong glance. “How presumptuous of you to assume that I was ever ‘sweet’.” He grabbed Kaiver’s face and pushed the man away. “And you’ll have to forgive me cynicism but I am of the opinion that the last time this many people from different walks of life came together in an attempt to unravel the mysteries of the universe, a genocidal race of time-consuming tyrants were born and it took nearly everything the entire world had to barely eke out a victory over them.”

Kaiver scratched the back of his head, ruffling the coppery red hair that was cut into a short buzz against his scaly skull. “You talkin’ ‘bout the Ashland War?”

Harm cocked an eyebrow at the question.

Huh… I forgot about that time the Searanti was led by a crazy prophet that had them amass an army of thirty-thousand men and unleashed a two-prong assault versus Corona and the Sunless Lands.

Lumire defended Corona personally while Aria stood by the Sultan.

I was the one that had to go down to the Searanti lands and kill their ‘god’.

That was over sixty years ago.

“No,” he said, flicking a finger in Kaiver’s direction. “But props for your knowledge of recent history.”

“Then is it Year of the Blood Eclipse?”

Oh, that was an insane year…

A member of the Custodia Vampiri had gotten it into his head that the Sun Spire was corrupt and wanted to bring twilight to the entirety of Incendius just like the perpetual twilight in the Vampiri homeland. He obtained what he called was the ‘blood of Apollia’ and managed to get up to the Sun Spire and enacted a ritual that darkened the light-giving tower. It caused a blood-red twilight to descend all over the Incendian landmass. As it turns out, he had been tricked by a demoness, allowing for a demonic invasion.

I remember fighting that crazed idiot into submission right at the Sun Spire and then having to destroy that succubus while Aria brought light and hope to the people.

A hundred and thirty-seven years ago.

“I am not referring to that either.”

Kaiver grabbed the sides of his head. “Come on, man! I was born an’ raised on Xaos! I barely passed Xaosian history! Ya dun expect me to ‘member everythin’ ‘bout Incendian history!” Then a light entered his eyes and he snapped his fingers. “Oh fuck! Is it the Rise of the Wyvern Queen? That fucked up all of Incendius.”

That was not fun.

The Shelandian Divide was an enormous valley that bisected a large portion of Incendius. Its sheer walls were populated by local Red Wyverns, natural users of Pyromancy. The Scar was named a national park a long time ago. However, an overly ambitious historian got her hands on an artifact that warped her mind and gave her unprecedented control over the Red Wyverns. She called herself the Wyvern Queen and launched an assault over all of Tower Thirteen in an attempt to carve out her own kingdom. Even Red Wyverns in other Stations were affected.

Poor girl just wanted to have her place in the world.

Shame Aria had to put her down.

That was three hundred and forty-nine years ago.

“I’m going to put you out of your misery,” he said, regarding Kaiver. “I’m talking about the Purge of Time.” He got a blank look from the Viperion that felt like a stab directly to his heart. “Surely you must know what the Purge of Time is? The period of time when the entire Station of Temporal waged war against the rest of Tower Thirteen? When the Chronomancers systematically started toppling governments, armies and enslaving cities to feed their own desires?” He clawed at the air in frustration and at the ghosts of that terrible war. “Tower Thirteen was almost turned into an abattoir for their selfish ambitions! The Church almost lost!”

Kaiver scratched his cheek absently. “Yeah. I know what yer talkin’ ‘bout but I dun get that part about the part where people from different cultures came together and made a mess of things.”

Oh…

Harm sighed, allowing his shoulders to slump. “The whole philosophy of Temporal and the Chronomancers was to accept people from all walks of life to ‘audition’ for the ‘honor’ of becoming Time Locked. In essence, immortal. The idea was that you study the basics of Time and Chronomancy in the Academy and then figure out some great contribution to the Chronomancer Collective. If your contribution was deemed worthy, you’d be given a Chronomancer’s Mantle and Time Locked, making you a Chronomancer.”

I still remember my ‘audition’

“The whole basis around it was to grow as a society by learning everything they could from everyone in Tower Thirteen.” Harm sighed heavily. “But in the end, they just turned to conquest instead and disposed of that noble pursuit.”

Kaiver rested a hand on his shoulder. “I get, ya mate. But if ya dun mind me askin’, what was your contribution?”

Harm’s ears perked and he immediately turned towards Kaiver in shock. The snake gave him a knowing smirk. “You know…?”

The burly viper shrugged. “Hey, when it’s pitch fuckin’ black all the time, ya pay attention to what color ya can see. Hard ta’ miss yer golden eyes. I know Havenese shitholes love to throw weird colors all over their bodies but no one in their right mind would volunteer to dye their eyes gold.”

Damn… No hiding those.

Harm ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “The problem with being Time Locked is that my body will always revert to the same state it was the moment I was Time Locked. I cut my hair and those strands will just fly back and merge with the follicles. You stab me and the blood will jump off your blade and seep back into my veins as the wound knits itself together. The side effect are these.” He pointed at his golden irises. “Back then, people considered a badge of honor to have golden eyes. A sign of the Time flowing through your veins. I can’t even hide them because my body will instantly reject whatever I do. Contacts will just fall out, superficial dyes will be ejected. I can’t even cast any other spells apart from Chronomancy so maintaining illusions is out of the question.”

He glanced over at Kaiver. “And you wonder what I did to give me this dubious honor?”

The Viperion shrugged. “Well… Yeah. S’what I asked.”

Harm turned his gaze back towards Solholme and Aria who were now a fair distance away. His mood instantly darkened as his memories switched back to that terrible moment when the Thirteen - the ruling council of the Chronomancer Collective - declared their intention to invade the rest of world and the triumphant chorus of approving roars that followed. His was the only dissenting voice; one lowly Chronomancer against an entire nation.

But one voice was all it took especially when that voice belonged to the Destroyer of Time.

“I started the Purge of Time.”

?

******

?

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! You can’t just leave off with that!”

Aria tore her gaze away from the soliloquy that Professor Edith Solholme was giving about her facility for a moment to find that Viperion, Kaiver, giving chase to Harm with a panicked and desperate look on his face. Whatever Harm had told the man, it clearly shook the very belief of the security officer. There were a variety of topics that could have caused this. Considering how they had been working together for nearly three thousand years and had been involved in almost every major event in the world since the Purge of Time, it wouldn’t surprise her if Harm had dropped some sort of ‘truth bomb’ on Kaiver that made him doubt his very existence.

“I can and I will,” the white-furred, golden-eyed Wulfun said dismissively with that ever-present smile on his muzzle. He stopped just a few short feet away from them and looked up at the gaping maw which was the entrance to the mountain-side facility that served as the main hub or research for Flareclaw. “So Professor, with most of the inconsequential, tangential research being done in the outer facilities, what potentially world-ending experiments are being conducted beneath there dark mountains that’ll come biting us in the ass in… I’m going to guess three days?”

Kaiver flinched at those last few words. A measure of time. Harm had revealed to the Viperion that he was a Chronomancer. While he took no pains to hide it and technically not a secret, even now, three thousand years after the Purge of Time, Harm should have known better than to just go telling anyone about his true origins and powers.

That would have to be an issue she’d address later.

Right now was the more pressing question.

Her amethyst eyes turned to the huge, semicircular opening barred by enormous blast doors at least three feet thick that barred their entrance into the true Flareclaw facility. From where she stood, she could see the few lights emanated from windows built into the side of the mountain. The communications tower jutted from the mountain itself between two, sharp peaks. This small valley served as a sort of observation deck where part of the facility was mounted to oversee the rest of the campus. Several automated turrets were mounted above the gates and there was even what appeared to be an artillery cannon barely hidden in the rock. This was no mere research facility.

It was a fortress.

“This is where we collate all the information we have gathered from the other facilities and use our best equipment to strive for the goal of curing the Molting Disease,” Edith replied, pulling at the creases on her lab coat.

“And the defenses?” Aria asked. “Those are some high-caliber turrets and that’s an Nebula-class artillery instillation.” She pointed at the barely hidden gun. “That’s normally found on starships. What is it doing on a research station?”

Edit glanced over at Kaiver through disinterested and unperturbed eyes. “I have our head of security to thank for that. Kaiver has many contacts in the Xaosian military and he was able to procure it for us especially with my unlimited budget. The turrets themselves were built by him. He is quite the accomplished Ferromancer, after all.”

Kaiver grinned sheepishly, blushing lightly beneath his creamy-green scales. “I’m honestly not that good. I just r’membered some designs, is all. Saved our asses during th’ raid.”

“Indeed they did,” answered Edith. “Few of our scientists know how to operate heavy machinery or fight. I shudder to think what would happen if our walls were ever breached.” She nodded towards the immense doors. “I had these doors shut at all times just in case. They are thick enough to sustain heavy fire. Certainly more than enough to hold back the Wyrmriders. We have food and water enough to last a week or so for everyone inside.”

Aria glanced over her shoulder at the small convoy of sailors and scientists carrying supplies behind them then back at the door. “Assuming they make it to the door.” She shot an accusing look at the professor. “You keep your most precious research within these walls where it’s most defended. The others are kept on the fringes, exposed and out of the ‘inner circle’. Despite your ‘unlimited budget’ you couldn’t spare some time to ensure that everyone is protected?”

The dignified crimson Avios was unperturbed. “I respectfully request that you do not pass judgment until you have toured the entire facility.” She gestured at the branch facilities. “Those other buildings were here long before I started. It was only recently that we started digging into the mountain as part of our research. It actually contains the more recent and advanced technology as you can see from the Havenese communications tower. The facility is capable of supporting everyone in the legacy facilities. It just so happens that most of the more experienced researchers prefer working out here in the night as opposed to the artificial light we give within the ‘Bunker’ as we’ve come to commonly call it.”

A valid statement and one she could admire. Modernizing legacy facilities especially when one came from one as technologically advanced as Haven probably increased their chances of success but one did not build a fortress without expecting an attack. Aria had to remind herself, however, that Edith came from Incendius and received training in Haven. Incendius - as proven by the Wyrmrider attack - was not as safe or stable as Haven.

She wanted to give this esteemed researched the benefit of the doubt but as Harm had pointed out, they had been in similar situations before. As cynical as it made her, these doors could very well be made to keep something in than keep people out.

“A fair explanation,” she replied dismissively. “Now about this research of yours…”

“Of course,” Edith said, stepping up to a smaller door to the side of the Bunker’s blast doors. She swiped an access card which beeped at the reader. The door in front of her shimmered with a bright, hexagonal pattern.

“A hexdoor,” Aria observed. “These use an exuberant amount of power. I can imagine you bringing some form of power source from Haven here but even this is a luxury.”

Edith smiled and just beckoned her to be followed with a finger. She stepped into the door, the hexagons physically dematerializing the metal around her to allow her to pass. Aria followed quickly after followed by Harm and Kaiver.

A brightly-lit warehouse yawned in front of them. The electrical buzz of overhead lights was almost too harsh compared to the near darkness of the outside. Boxes of heavy equipment and supplies were stocked all over the area as well as vehicles that would not survive out in the black sands of the desert. There were a few people milling about, all of them clearing some space likely for the convoy to arrive. As was to be expected, the architecture was distinctly Havenese. The floors were glistening with polished white metal. Absent were the usual blue-green trim that was influenced by Haven’s proximity to Chrysalis Core. Instead, there was a gradient of red to yellow reminiscent of flame and clear homage to Incendius being the Station of the Sun. Bright circuits of flowing magical energies danced on their surface, undisturbed even if people stepped on them directly. The walls were angled, sharp and seamless. It was impossible to see where one panel began or ended because they simply did not exist; Havenese construction workers used magic and science to forge entire buildings out of a single block of metal. The lights hanging from the ceiling were sharp and crystalline in appearance.

Edith led them out of the warehouse into broad, clean hexagonal-shaped tunnels. The red colorations were more evident here with banners to various Incendian organizations and groups hanging on the walls. She even had to pause a moment when she noticed the silvery-gray pennant marked with a burning, stylized ‘I’; the emblem of the Incendian Inquisition.

“You have Inquisitors here?” she asked.

“A long time ago,” answered Edith with a dismissive wave. “One of my predecessors had the Inquisition bear down on her. They stayed for a while but left without incident. Should they come knocking once more, I’d like to make sure they at least have decent accommodation.”

Aria frowned for a moment before following the scientist. “Inquisitors don’t take too kindly to flattery, Professor Solholme.”

“Trust me. They will find their accommodations far from flattering.”

There was bile and venom in her voice. Something that Aria could understand. The Inquisition was generally not very-well regarded. If Chronomancers were the boogeymen, the Inquisition was the proverbial indiscriminate angels of death that could and would purge any forms of corruption or threat against the Church. It made her skin crawl that, once upon a time, she was one of them. Her left eye still itched from when it had been replaced with a mechanical one - an ‘Eye of Truth’. Few ever left the Inquisition willingly but her departure was less a matter of choice as it was one of principle. She threw a glance at Harm and remembered the very reason why she had turned in her artificial eye and had her natural one restored.

Edith stopped in front of two, large double doors and turned towards them. “And this is the chamber were we currently conduct our primary research.”

“Right,” Harm began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So is this the part where you reveal your true intentions to sacrifice us to appease some demon that’s promised to get rid of the Molting Disease for you? Just so you know, Aria is seriously hard to kill and me…” He hiked a thumb at Kaiver. “… well, ask him.”

Kaiver lifted his hand in panic, shaking his head furiously. “I swear! He made me do it!”

Aria stepped around Harm and immediately saw the big, Nightmetal dagger sticking out of of the Wulfun’s back.

“Mother Goddess…” she sighed and grabbed the blade from between her friend’s shoulder blades and handed it back to Kaiver. The blood slathered over the black, starry metal peeled away from the sharp edge and floated of its own accord back into Harm’s back, the wound healing rapidly.

Edith stared in horror.

“What?” Harm replied with a casual shrug. “You can’t expect a Templar to just travel around with a normal Wulfun, do you?”

“Your height and build alone would already mark you as atypical,” Aria pointed out with a smirk.

Harm glared at her even though his ever-present smile suggested he accepted this as part of their playful banter. “Fuck you.”

Edith stood protectively in front of the door, spreading her arms out to block as much of the entrance as she could. “Just who are you two? What do you want?”

Kaiver immediately rushed past them both, standing beside Edith and gripping the blade in his hand shakily. “The Wulfun is… is… He’s a Chronomancer! I dun know how that’s possible but he’s got the golden eyes n’ he heals like crazy!”

The professor hesitated, her features twisted into a grimace. “A Chronomancer… how is that possible?”

Aria regarded her stance carefully. This was not the stance of a woman who was trying to undermine them or even kill them. She was clearly protective of whatever was on the other side of that door. Dedication burned through her eyes. Death would be the only thing to separate her from her position. Harm saw this as well and he waved his paw absently through the air, golden rings of magic appearing at his fingertips. He wiggled his fingers through the air like he was typing on a keyboard, each of the rings momentarily flashing and glowing as each ‘key’ was pressed.

The door behind the two immediately sprang open, much to their surprise.

“What…?” gasped Edith, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was there. The scientists on the other side of the chamber were still hard at work and far from the door.

“I just moved the door back to a point in time when it was open,” Harm supplied, striding around the two. “You know the legends about Chronomancers. Most of them are exaggerated but that just means you’re all ill-prepared to deal with the truth.” He crossed his arms behind his head. “So you know there’s nothing you can do to stop me if I wanted in. For the record though…” He looked over his shoulder at them. “I work for the good of Tower Thirteen. As long as you’re not going to do something insane like sacrifice all of the black sand in the Sunless Lands to make some sort of enormous glass array that’ll be used to cure the Molting Disease all across the world, then I’m your on side.”

“Enormous glass array…?” Kaiver asked, relaxing slightly.

Aria strode past him to stand next to Harm. “The Crystalfrost of Diatollia. It’s a story for another time.” She nodded at the scene in front of them. “Tell us what’s happening here.”

In front of them was an enormous cylindrical chamber which they stood at the base of. A towering glowing cylinder emitting soft, warm, orange light stood at the center of the chamber while wires, pipes and tubes seemed to funnel whatever was kept within the chamber out into different parts of the facility. The facility had to be at least ten storeys tall with every floor possessing some sort of adjacent chamber where she could see people behind the glass working on complicated equipment and casting arcane spells far beyond Incendian limits.

This definitely was a Havenese facility.

“Doctor Ulerian!” Edith exclaimed, waving down a Cervitian. The tall, ten-pronged man in a labcoat and wearing half-moon glasses stepped over. There were heavy bags under his eyes like he hadn’t slept for days and his brown coat was matted. Curly brown hair was messy and unkempt between his antlers. Considering the state of his coat which barely hung on his shoulders, the mustard-stained pink shirt he wore beneath that was untucked and the sagging dark green pants, this man was suffering from severe stress. The man held a coffee cup in one hoofed hand and a tablet in the other.

“Professor Solholme,” said the man with a yawn. “What a surprise.” He then turned his wear, dark-brown eyes towards Harm and Aria. “And who are these fair guests?”

Given that he didn’t recognize Aria for a Templar given her attire, she guessed this man was extremely sleep-deprived.

“Just how many days of sleep have you missed out on?” Harm asked.

“Just three,” said the man with a weary grin. “We’re really close to a breakthrough, however.”

“Uh-huh.” Harm held out his paw towards the man, golden rings of light dancing around his wrist. He twisted his paw like he was turning back a dial. Instantly, the man’s composure improved, the bags under his eyes vanishing, weariness in his stance fading and his eyes graining clarity. “You’re likely to make more mistakes when you’re bone tired and it looks like you’re generating a lot of energy in that generator. The last thing I want is to be blown up by a thermonuclear explosion because you fell asleep on your console and spilled your coffee on critical equipment.”

This Doctor Ulerian blinked a few times and then grinned brightly, regarding the mug in his hand. “Oh my! This is astounding! I feel good as new! What is in this blend and who brought it in?”

Harm looked dejected, his ears folded back and his eyes shut in exasperation.

“Doctor Paradin Ulerian oversees our latest endeavor to cure the Molting Disease,” Edith Solholme said, stepping forward almost protectively in front of the Cervitian. “Using our technology from Haven, we have made leaps and strides in our research. By combining magic and technology, we believe we can actually cure the disease.” Still standing in front of a confused Ulerian, she said, “Why not explain it to the Templar and her… golden-eyed companion.”

Shrugging, Ulerian began his spiel. “The Molting Disease is a mysterious phenomenon. It’s not genetic. Not hereditary. Not even magical in nature. It’s not viral, fungal or even any form of infection. We simply do not know what it is. Even the term ‘Molting Disease’ is merely a name we give the phenomenon. I specialize in the use of the Illuminus Weizar in medicine, you see.”

The Illuminated Word, the language said to have been granted by the Mother Goddess to humans in ancient times to give them magic and ownership over all things. The Word named everything in existence and by using that name and the language, one could manipulate the very nature of things. It was dangerous, however. Use of the Word required energy and the greater the act of magic, the greater the cost. Which would explain the towering cylinder of light at the center of the room. They needed a lot of energy to conduct their research if they were using the Weizar.

“That’s interesting,” Harm said, folding his arms. “You just said you don’t know what the Disease is then mentioned that the term we give it is just a colloquialism. That suggests that you don’t know what the term for the Molting Disease is in the Illuminus Weizar otherwise you’d have been able to manipulate it. So my only conclusion is that you do know it and it just takes a huge amount of energy to actually do what you’re thinking or…”

Aria nodded in understanding. “You’re using the power here to search for the name.”

Ulerian beamed brightly. “Indeed! It’s only with Havenese technology and the blessing of her Most Holiest of Lights, Apollia, that we could even think to perform such research! We’ve made great strides as well! We have actually found the first four letters of the name!” He waved at them to follow him to a console. “Come! Come! We even know how many letters there are!”

Curious, Aria followed the stag to a nearby terminal where a solid-light terminal displayed the first four letters ‘EIUS’ in front of them. The remaining letters were marked with question marks. Another 29 characters remained unknown.

“That’s a long name,” she commented. “Befitting an unknowable disease.”

“Indeed!” Ulerian replied with a grin. “But we’re making strides. I theorize that within a another decade or two, we’d have the full name discerned. Praise the Sun Goddess!”

Ulerian was clearly a devotee of the Sun Goddess. Befitting someone who practiced theological medicine. One could not perform divine miracles of magic would some faith. It was a curious contrast to how science, faith and magic were often separated on Haven. Many scientists on Haven considered the Illuminus Weizar a tool and not related to religion at all while wizards and sorcerers could argue that magic was often about creativity and less about cold, hard explanations and logic. While the Church remained the single most influential force in all of Tower Thirteen, even they found difficulty uniting everyone until the single view that magic and religion were one and the same. Not that they really wanted to in Haven. Free expression was a key tenant to the Station of the Divine.

“Then comes the hard part,” agreed Edith. “Figuring out how to use the name to cure the disease.” Despite her earlier trepidation, Solholme seemed almost excited and proud to explain the research that she was leading.

The Illuminus Weizar was often likened to a combination between a genie granting wishes and a computer program doing exactly what it was told to do by the very human coder. Without proper care in the phrasing of a spell or testing, the magic could easily go awry. Even a simple conjuration of a fireball could go awry if invoked improperly. Experts of the Weizar could cast spells with less words because their intention was clear and their focus was impenetrable but novices or those with little understanding of what they were doing could cause disasters.

If these scientists were trying to manipulate the very nature of a disease that was plaguing Avios since ancient times, it was a very real possibility that they could inadvertently make the Molting Disease worse.

“I trust that you are taking the necessary precautions?” asked Aria sternly.

“Of course,” Edith responded confidently. “We are not amateurs.”

Aria narrowed her eyes. Before she had met Harm, she had held a disdain for confident scientists. This was typified by the Chronomancers who, by virtue of how one became a Chronomancer, were ambitious, confident and often selfish researchers. Too many times as an Inquisitor, she had been sent to clean up a Chronomancer’s mess which led to countless deaths but the Chronomancer themselves was unharmed thanks to being Time Locked.

“Harm,” she said calmly, “show them the Time Bomb.”

The Chronomancer stared at her in surprise. “Wait? Really?”

“Yes. Really. Explain as well why you don’t use it often.”

Harm groaned softly. “I hate it when you use me as an example.” He held up his right paw. A small globe of energy appeared on his palm, almost like a little glass sphere containing constantly spinning, golden cogs. “I guess you could call this my ‘ultimate technique’ or my ‘trump card’,” he said. “The Time Bomb.”

“A Time Bomb from a Chronomancer,” huffed Edith. “How creative.”

“Laugh all you want but I earned the moniker of ‘Destroyer of Time’ for a reason.” Harm’s smile faded. “This little ball call obliterate you from the time line. One touch of it and you will be ripped from existence completely. Not just this time line either. All time lines if I so wish. But it’s dangerous. I had to work for years to perfect the technique to the point that it wouldn’t go haywire and just obliterate anything in a non-stop chain reaction that would unravel reality as we saw it.”

He absently tossed into the air, making both Kaiver and Ulerian flinch. Edith was unfazed. Aria snatched the ball out of the air.

“This little ball is one of the many techniques Harm used during the Purge of Time to end the Chronomancer threat,” she continued. “Even with all of its potential, we couldn’t risk him using it too often because of just how dangerous it is. I hope you understand the very same risks that you are courting by trying to manipulate the Molting Disease by using its true name.”

For a moment, Edith just stared at the little sphere. There was a spark of ambition in her eyes and Aria couldn’t shake the feeling that they may have overplayed their hand. That remained to be seen, however, and from what she had seen thus far, Solholme was noble. She handed the Time Bomb back to Harm who slowly crushed it in his paw, diffusing the weapon.

“Your analogy is well-received, Lady Valkyrie,” replied Edith curtly. “We are taking every precaution. However, as Ulerian mentioned, we are decades away from completing this research.”

“Then why do you want to evacuate?” Aria countered.

“It is research that we can easily uproot and start again somewhere if needed,” answered the crimson Avios. “However, we cannot do that if we’re all dead.”

That was fair.

“To that end, I don’t suppose we’ve convinced you to aid in our evacuation?”

Aria glanced from face to face, lingering on Edith’s stern, steely expression. “No,” she answered curtly. “If anything, you have convinced me that you need to stay here and we need to provide you with a means to defend yourselves.”

“What?” exclaimed Kaiver. “Why?”

That reaction was worth noting but she decided to address it later. Aria instead pointed to the glowing cylinder in at the center of the room. “Scanning the Illuminus Weizar for the true name of anything takes an enormous amount of energy. That reactor right there provides this power. Wyrmriders would have no idea what a Havenese reactor is and are more likely to destroy it than dispose of it properly. Abandoning it regardless of whether or not you take your research with you is both environmentally and socially irresponsible.”

Harm pulled back from her, letting out a loud ‘ooooh’ of acknowledgment. “That’s a really good point! Probably why the original designers of this place picked this isolated location when building this mini-college town! If it does go into meltdown, the damage won’t be too bad since there isn’t a lot of people around here. Then again, nuking the Sultan’s lands won’t go down very well.”

“Exactly,” confirmed Aria. “So I have decided, upon my authority as a Templar of the Church, that I will petition the Church to provide further defenses and secure this location. Any objections?”

Edith was unreadable and considered the offer for a moment. Aria had left no room for discussion. Either they objected or not. “I suppose that is agreeable. Do you have some way to communicate with your superiors?”

Many but they would take days to arrive and if there was a severe sandstorm heading their way and the risk of a raid occurring rose exponentially, she would need to get that message out as soon as possible. “I was hoping to use your communications tower.”

“You will need to wait until tomorrow, then. A Chaos Storm is currently blocking our communications. We’ve barely been able to communicate with anyone outside of these walls in days. We have a meteorologist and Chaos Watcher in the tower. She will help you discern when your next window of opportunity to reach Haven is.”

Aria nodded towards her Wulfun companion. “Harm, go and see if you can contact anyone from Haven to send us reinforcements. Maybe station a defensive platoon here or something. If they need to negotiate, you know who to ask.”

Harm gave her a half-hearted salute. “Aye, ma’am.”

Edith hiked her chin at Kaiver. “Go with him. Don’t want our esteemed Chronomancer to get lost.”

Though looking hesitant, Kaiver padded over to Harm.

The Wulfun turned to leave, waving a paw over his shoulder. The wound on his back was completely gone and there wasn’t even a trace of blood or tear on his clothes. “Make sure to keep up, Kaiver. I’ve got all of eternity but you’re the one dying of oxidization.”

“Why don’t you tell me more about your research?” Aria suggested, addressing both Doctor Ulerian and Professor Solholme. “I’d like to know more about what I’m committing to defending.”

Ulerian bowed at her lightly and gestured towards one of the lifts heading up to the upper level.

“Right this way, Lady Valkyrie.”

Curative Respite

Havenese technology truly was spectacular. Being the closest Station to the central crystal that held the shattered world of Tower Thirteen together, Haven was supposed to be under the direct influence of the Mother Goddess. Their inspiration from the deity who sacrificed herself to spear the thirteen floating fragments of a once-whole planet together by transforming herself into an enormous blue-green crystal drove them to great heights. With Chaos - the corruptive, nebulous force beyond the protective aura of Chrysalis - in between every Station, Haven needed to find ways to communicate with other Stations as fast and efficiently as possible.

But despite countless advancements, Havenese technology still had its limitations.

An Avios, a little, portly penguin with thick, round glasses fidgeted in her squat, swivel chair as she explained the current limitations of the tower.

“Chaos Storms are huge, unruly concentrations of Chaos that occur naturally within the Void,” she explained in a small, quite, mousy voice that had Harm straining his ears. “Chaos is this fundamental force of creation. The scriptures teach us that the Mother Goddess created the world from the Chaos and then protected us from it because its touch could undo all the order that she had created. It is by her grace and sacrifice in the crystal Chrysalis that we are protected from Chaos’ influence.”

It really isn’t…

Tower Thirteen may have been shattered into thirteen separate landmasses but with Chrysalis spearing many of the fragments and the natural gravity of the Stations, atmospheres were formed. These atmospheres prevented Chaos from entering the Stations. Though Chaos still reacted with atmospheric particles as expected, because of its very nature, it could not cause any lasting damage. One molecule of Chaos interacting with a static, collective force like ozone would maybe cause a small disruption but it could never rely on the other Chaos particles around it to back it up. Sometimes, other particles would react differently causing atmospheric disturbances called auroras but they never lasted and never did any lasting damage.

Chrysalis provided light and protection from demonic invasion. Nothing was stopping Chaos from entering the world except for physics.

He let the woman continue her nervous rant.

“Chaos, by its very nature, is… chaotic. It clashes and changes constantly. When these changes coalesce, they create these warped fields of reality where nothing can survive or pass through. Not even our communications.” She pointed at one of the screens which appeared like a radar map of sorts. “There’s currently a Chaos Storm over us and it’ll block all forms of communication. It’ll only last until tomorrow morning but by then…”

“The sandstorm will hit,” Harm sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because of course it will.” He took a moment to consider his options.

Chaos Storms could warp anything they touched even Time. Entire fleets could get lost and twisted in Storms, sometimes even appearing centuries in the future or past. One notorious example was the Lost Incendian Fleet; a ghost ship story of a fleet of Incendian warships that got caught in a Chaos Storm and was supposed to keep appearing every so often in the skies. It was a creepy ghost story and usually made its rounds once a year around the Net.

Of course, Harm knew the truth about the so-called ‘Lost Fleet’.

“Can’t you just… I dunno,” mumbled Kaiver. “Most us forward in time or something?”

The penguin gave Harm a puzzled look as he lowered his paw.

“Theoretically but as with everything, any sort of magic requires energy. Moving anything, even if it was just this tower, forward almost twelve-hours forward in time intact and without damage would require more power than I can muster.”

“I thought you guys were like gods…? You could destroy entire nations like you were jackin’ off.”

Harm shot the Viperion an agitated stare. “While many stories about us are greatly exaggerated, I can confirm that the possibility certainly exists to wipe out entire nations with enough effort. Besides, if what you said is true, the Church wouldn’t have won the war.” He turned towards the woman. “What time will our communications be back up and running?”

She fidgeted in her seat, the glowing crystal monitors in front of her casting a soft glow on her features. In the brightly-lit white and blue-green room around them, Harm could clearly see the various snacks and drinks that were arrayed on the tables around her. Clearly, this was her den.

“Around noon,” she responded.

“For how long?”

“Most of the day. Another sandstorm won’t hit us until the evening so you’ll have a good four to five hours to communicate with someone in any Station.”

“Great. I’ll be back then.” He winked at her. “Save me a spot in line.” Then he turned and left, passing through the door with Kaiver right behind him. High above the rest of the facility and little ‘town’, he leaned against the railing provided by the catwalk around the tower. A fragile-looking metal stairwell stretched from his left down to a lift that would take him down to the main research facility.

Kaiver stayed a good few feet behind him, standing there awkwardly. Eventually, he grew tired of the silence and tension.

“You don’t have to keep watching me, you know,” he said over his shoulder. “So long as you’re not about to go on a murderous rampage or try and kill us in the night, I’m not your enemy.”

“It’s not that…” mumbled Kaiver. “It’s just… I’ve never met anyone like you. I honestly dun know what to think of ya.”

“I’d be surprised if you knew another Chronomancer.” His eyes narrowed, fingers closing around the railings tightly. “Though if you did, I’d be compelled to interrogate you about them.”

“Actually, I don’t care you’re a Chronomancer. Honestly think that’s cool.”

His fingers unclenched from the railings and he glanced at Kaiver in surprise. “You don’t?”

“No,” answered the Viperion with a shake of his head.

“Then what’s with the three feet of distance and twitchy stance like you’re being micro-shocked?”

Kaiver regarded him incredulously. “Dude! Ya told me to stab you ‘n when I wouldn’t, ya jumped onto my fucking dagger! I mean, who does that!?

Oh right…

He couldn’t help it. Laughter erupted from his chest and came out in a burst that he couldn’t stop. Harm leaned back against the railings, shutting his eyes and placing a paw against his face, laughing at the cosmic joke that was his own neurosis.

“What’s so funny?” Kaiver asked, approaching slowly.

Harm had to lift a finger, asking the security officer to give him another few moments before he could finally compose himself. After a moment, he was still giggling as he regarded the approachable Viperion. “It’s just that I’m used to people acting so afraid of me like just being around me would set them on fire or damn them to the Demon King’s halls. It’s surprising and hilarious that anyone would accept me for what I am but be repulsed by who I am.”

Kaiver inclined his head to the side in confusion. “Huh?”

“It’s because of what I did not what I am that you’re freaking out, isn’t it?” he asked. “You’re right! What sane person would tell a complete stranger to stab them and then jump on the blade to prove that they’re immortal?” Harm shook his head and made an exploding motion from the side of his head with his fingers. “It just blew my mind!”

“To be fair, I’m sure a lotta people wouldn’t have believed ya were a Chronomancer.” Kaiver leaned against the railings beside him. “If ya dun mind me askin’… Did ya become a Chronomancer cuz of some crazy Church conspiracy tryin’ ta revive them or…?”

“Oh, a fan of T.S. Reilly’s works huh?” Harm chuckled, turning back around to look out into the vast, black expanse of the Sunless Lands. “That guy really likes to play on the idea of reviving the Chronomancers.” He drummed his fingers on the railings. “But to answer your question, no. I wasn’t turned into a Chronomancer recently. I’ve been one for over three thousand years. OG Time Mage, if you will.”

Kaiver stared at him in surprise but there wasn’t a hint of rejection or doubt in his eyes. “Wait… So that means…?”

“Yup,” Harm answered, popping his jaw at the ‘p’. “I was there during the Purge of Time. I fought on the side of the Church. My friends and colleagues called me the ‘Traitor Chronomancer’. They mocked me using the moniker that once was a great badge of honor for my achievements.” A sardonic smile touched his lips. “Destroyer of Time indeed.”

For a moment, Kaiver was silent then he asked the inevitable question. “How’d you get that name?”

He tilted his head to the sky almost like he could see the ruins of Temporal now in the darkness.

“When you sign up to become a Chronomancer, you enter the Academy. You’re stripped of all your possessions and even your name. You just become a number. I was Initiate 175432.” He gave Kaiver a sidelong glance. “Don’t be fooled. The number isn’t indicative of how many Initiates there are before. There’s just a randomizer that picks some arbitrary number.” Then he turned back to look at the night sky. “God, I was such a bad student…”

“Really?” Kaiver bumped shoulders with him. “Looks like we got something in common. I flunked out of college. Couldn’t even join the military. But ended up with this sweet security gig.”

“That’s impressive,” Harm replied with a gentle smile. “But I was a bad student in another way.” That smile grew slightly into a mischievous grin. “See, for you to be a Chronomancer, you’ve got to contribute something of great value to the Collective. The Thirteen, the ruling council of the Collective, would judge your contribution and if they decide that it’s worth it, they’ll give you a name, your Chronomancer name. For most Initiates, they only start thinking about how their projects from their third year as an Initiate. But me… I already had a plan.”

He held out his paw, conjuring a Time Bomb again. This time, Kaiver didn’t flinch. “I wanted to answer the question, ‘can you destroy Time?’.” He chuckled and closed his fingers around the magical explosive, dismissing it. “From the first moment that I stepped onto the Academy, I was branded a trouble maker.”

“Were they racists fucks because of your height?”

“No. That’d be so much simpler.” He flashed Kaiver a grin. “I blew up the toilets.”

The security officer recoiled in shock. “Wait… What?”

“Destruction. Chaos. It was all part of my grand experiment.” Harm turned back towards the night sky. “The Academy is saturated by Time. I was running experiments even when I first started to figure out the limits of Time. Most of those experiments led to something or another being destroyed. No one ever figured out what I was doing. Well… Except for one guy. The one guy that turned out to be my mentor and probably my closest ally amongst the Collective.”

“Who?”

“Longinus the Sixth Hour. A member of the Thirteen.” Harm laughed softly to himself and shook his head. “The old bastard is actually the one who invented the Time Locking Technique that gives Chronomancers their immortality. I have no idea what he saw in me but he took me under his wing and insulated me from a lot of the harsher punishments that were coming my way because of my destructive nature. I’m pretty sure I would’ve been kicked out of the Academy and Temporal if he hadn’t intervened. To this day, I think he believed that he needed to keep an eye on me because if he didn’t, I would do so much worse on my own. Sure bit him in the ass in the end.”

Kaiver shuffled a little closer. “So what did you end up doing? How’d your experiments go?”

“They went really well,” Harm responded. “I came to the conclusion that Time cannot be destroyed. Not really. But it can certainly be transfered. That’s when I came up with the technique that gave me my golden eyes; Final Hour. The ability to drain Time from anything and anyone and add it to yourself.” He lifted a finger. “See, when a Chronomancer is Time Locked, they are permanently frozen in the same body for the rest of eternity. That’s why I heal so quickly. It’s because my Time is ‘resetting’. But the failing of that is that the current limits of the body can never be broken. I will never get more muscle, I’ll never get taller, I’ll never grow longer hair or fur. A Chronomancer that has a frail, old body will forever remain frail and old.”

He turned towards Kaiver. “Chronomancy requires the use of Time to cast. We literally take years off our lives to cast some of our spells. Time Locking mitigates this as even though we cast a spell, the Time Locking state will reset our bodies and keep us immortal. Problem is, we’ll always have the same amount of Time once we’re Time Locked.” The smile on is face turned cynical. “Until I came along.”

“Because now Chronomancers could suck the time out of anyone and add it to their own… Is it permanent?”

Kaiver really is smarter than he appears.

“Yes,” Harm replied. “Once your drain the Time from something, it adds to your own stores of Time. When you’re Time Locked, it means you’ve become permanently more powerful.” He snickered and shook his head. “I still remember the day that I stepped forward and announced that I wanted to become a Chronomancer.”

“What happened?”

He sighed with nostalgia. “I stood in front of the Thirteen and showed them my technique. They were both shocked and excited by my technique. They were also divided right down the middle on whether or not to grant me the Mantle. Longinus, being so close to me, abstained from the vote.” Harm bobbed his head from side to side. “In retrospect, seeing the fiery ambition in the eyes of half of the council should have raised red flags with me but I was enjoying reducing the Thirteen into the squabbling children that they really were that I didn’t care.”

Harm slumped forward, letting his arms hang over the edge of the railings. “My goal ultimately was to show the Chronomancers that, despite everything, they were still mortals with limits. Limits they can test and develop. But in the end, a God had to intervene to decide my fate.”

“A god?” Kaiver asked incredulously. “What happened?”

“It’s procedure,” answered the Chronomancer with a wave of his hand. “In the case the Thirteen are unable to decide upon something, they would consult Haamiah the God of Time. It rarely happened, of course, because the Thirteen has an odd number of members but it was part of the Constitution. Not to mention Haamiah is a lazy piece of shit that does nothing but watch Time go by. He rarely ever intervenes. The name and moniker he gave me was just a show of how lazy he is.” He straightened and made air quotes. “Harm Chronos the Destroyer of Time. Really creative there, God! Thanks.”

“So the God of Time was the one that gave ya yer name ‘n made you a Chronomancer?” exclaimed Kaiver in shock. “Dude, that’s amazin’!”

Harm’s smile turned sad. “If only Haamiah had the foresight to know what my ascension would mean. Or maybe he did.” His eyes turned dark. “Because of Final Hour, I had broken the limits of the Chronomancer Collective. Suddenly, they could grow stronger. Instead of seeing the world as an endless resource of knowledge and using the techniques they had developed in new and inventive ways to help Tower Thirteen as a whole, they saw all of Tower Thirteen as crops for the harvest. They quickly figured out that draining the Time out of sentient thinking objects provided them with a far greater boost than something like a rock. Final Hour removes something from the future, robs them of all possibilities and thus adds it to your own stockpile.

“Chronomancers grew greedy and because they were immortal and now had a reason to invade, they attacked the rest of the Tower Thirteen under the pretense of protecting the world from itself. This was right off the back of the Second Demonic Invasion and that revealed a lot of cracks amongst the governments and ruling bodies of Tower Thirteen. Temporal claimed sovereignty over all of the Stations, positing that everyone else couldn’t take care of themselves so they would take the reins and protect them instead… even if it meant that some of them would have to die to provide power to their protectors. It was this that led to the Purge of Time.”

Kaiver inhaled sharply. “And that’s why you blame yourself for starting the Purge of Time.”

If it hadn’t been for me, the Chronomancer would never have gone off the deep end.

That’s why I held it as my personal responsibility to end them.

“There’s no point putting blame,” Harm said with a shrug. “They’re dead. I’ve done what I’ve done. All I can do is move on from it and make sure I don’t make the same mistakes as I did back then. One of the reasons why I’m cautious about all of this.” He waved a paw to gesture at the facility around them. “Noble intentions can quickly become twisted by ambitious hearts. We’re dealing with people, after all. It’s very easy to have our minds clouded by the promise of glory, fame and power and take what was meant to be a cure and turn it into a superweapon.”

He cast his gaze back towards Kaiver with a smile. “So now you know about me. I hope you don’t expect me to talk only about myself. I’ve got three thousand years worth of stories. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

Kaiver blushed beneath his scales and turned away. “Yer going to have to get me a little more drunk than that.”

Is that so?

“Got a glass somewhere in all those pockets of yours?” he asked.

Lifting an eyebrow in curiosity, Kaiver reached into the pockets of one of his utility vests and plucked a shotglass. There was a curious emblem on the side. An anchor on fire. Harm didn’t question it and merely ran a finger around the edge of the glass. Golden runes danced where his finger crossed and a clear, almost pink liquid filled the glass. He handed it to Kaiver who regarded it curiously.

“What’s this?”

“An-Korian Air Spirit,” Harm replied, leaning against the railings with his eyes closed. “An-Korus is predominantly covered in water. Apparently used to just be part of one of the One World’s ocean with little islands dotting the place. They make a lot of their cities underwater and they put a lot of value on breathable air. So much so that they found a way to distill air itself into liquid form and transform it into a sort of alcohol. I just mimicked the art.”

“Seriously?” Kaiver asked, sniffing at the cup. “That can happen?”

“Apparently so. It’d take centuries under immense pressure for air to enter that state and even more for it to cause any sort of inebriation but that’s why I have Chronomancy.”

Kaiver reached into his pocket and held out another glass. “You want a shot?”

Harm held up a paw. “Can’t. Being Time Locked means that I can’t eat. Can’t sleep. Realistically, I don’t even need to breathe. If I drink anything, I’ll just violently throw it back up. Then all the bodily fluids I ejected that are mine will shoot back down my throat. Not pleasant.”

The security guard held out the glass of spirits at arm’s length. “Alright. No fun drinking alone.”

“You can give me a few savage punches.” Harm grinned as he tapped his temple. “It’s probably as close as I’ll get to ever getting drunk again.”

Kaiver frowned at him and then downed the liquid in one shot. “Fuck, I never needed a drink more than now.”

Harm smiled and ran a finger over the lip of the glass, filling it once more. Kaiver downed it instantly.

“Take it easy,” warned the Chronomancer. “That stuff may just be liquefied air but it’ll hit you pretty hard.”

Kaiver shook the shot glass and Harm filled it once more. The Viperion kept the brew in his muzzle for about a few seconds before he swallowed. “Can’t say that I understand what you’ve been through, Chronos. Fuck, I’m barely twenty-seven. Ya’ve got millennia ahead of me. But I sort of get how you can feel so alone that it kinda makes ya paranoid.”

I’m not paranoid… I prefer realistic.

“How so?” Harm asked.

Kaiver’s eyes grew distant. “I’m surrounded by people way smarter than I am. Every step of my damn life. Everyone always thought of me as this dumb fucker that was all muscle and no brains. I kept having ta prove myself just so people would give me a chance at something bigger. Never wanted to be the muscle.” He held out his shot glass which Harm filled up again.

“Is this the part where you tell me you wanted to be a dancer or something?”

Kaiver snorted and drank the shot. “Naw. Wanted to be a Ferromancer. Wanted to join the Custodia Ferrus down at Arret. Always loved metal.” As if to prove his point, he lifted his spare hand away from the metal railings. The metal shifted and twisted like liquid at his command.

What the…? No invocation via the Illuminus Weizar_. Barely any gestures. He completely controlled the spell using his mind alone._

He’s an incredibly talented Ferromancer!

Now that he thought about it, he recalled Edith mentioning that Kaiver had created those auto-turrets by himself. That suggested that either Kaiver knew how to extract precious metals from his surroundings or even manifest metal, both incredibly difficult tasks to perform. To make fully functioning turrets as well was incredibly impressive.

I’ve underestimated him.

“Xaos is a land of concrete, steel and cybernetics,” continued Kaiver. “People are always so fuckin’ angry up there. It’s always about provin’ yerself. Making yerself valuable. Thought if I could make myself worthy, prove to them that I was more than jus’ muscle…” He let out a bitter laugh. “But in the end, it just got me thrown out here. Lot of good that did, huh?”

Harm glanced away and momentarily faded into the memory of countless Initiates scrambling over one another to prove themselves to their teachers and the Thirteen. Many even resorted to stealing or deriving their research off the success of others. Sabotage wasn’t common but it was always in the back of everyone’s minds. All of his ‘reckless’ actions were often construed as acts of sabotage. Strangely, none of the Initiates or teachers ever noticed that above all the cannibalizing academics trying to claw their way to the top, he stood off to the side, isolated and building his own monument.

All of them but one.

Longinus.

“I wouldn’t say it was a total waste of time,” Harm said, turning back to Kaiver with a smile. “After all, were it not for your judgmental superiors, you would never have met me.” He puffed out his chest and fluffed out his tail. “The Last Chronomancer.”

Kaiver let out a bellowing laugh. “You’ve got a hell of a head on you, dontja?”

“Would’ve have survived this long if I didn’t.” He smiled gently at the Viperion. “Take it from an old man, Kaiver. Learn to love yourself first for who you are and don’t compromise your own identity for the sake of other people’s opinion. You can’t please everyone. When you try, somewhere down the line you’ll look in the mirror and you won’t even recognize the man that’s staring back at you.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

Harm grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been more sure of who I am than I am at this point. Every passing second, I am filled with more and more certainty.”

A suspicious look entered Kaiver’s eyes. “Wait… You’re not constantly using that Final Hour trick are you? Like making yourself stronger every second at a time?”

He kept that grin on his muzzle even as his eyes obtained a mischievous glint. “Guess you’ll never know unless you genuinely try to kill me.”

Kaiver suddenly reached out and grabbed Harm’s waist, pulling him towards the towering snake with the serpent’s long, flexible tail wrapping around his legs, pinning him to the bulky reptile.

“Fuck knowing. How ‘bout I see what else I can fill ya with?”

Harm had to laugh at that before he slipped backwards in time just a second, repositioning himself where he had been standing before Kaiver had seized him. To the security officer, he just faded into a golden light and reappeared a foot away.

“Smooth but buy me dinner first.”

Kaiver cocked a bony eyebrow at him. “But you don’t eat.”

“Exactly.”

The door to the communications tower sprang open and that mousy penguin scrambled out, still rooted to her chair. It seemed that she had wheeled herself over from the console without ever getting off the chair.

“Sirs! Lady Valkyrie requests your presence down at the main lab. Lab 4.”

Kaiver’s expression lost his sultry playfulness and became hard and cautious. “I know the way. Follow me.”

Harm nodded. “Lead on.” Just as he turned to leave, he stopped and turned towards the penguin. “How rude of me, I never got your name.”

She smiled sheepishly at him. “Rachel. Rachel Meadows.”

“Pleased to meet you, Rachel. I’m Harm Chronos. Destroyer of Time. Traitor Chronomancer. Adopted brother to the Propheticus Primoris. I’m sure there are more titles in my three-thousand-years-plus of existence but I don’t have the time right now. Bye!”

?

*******

?

Each level of the laboratory was dedicated to different forms of research. The lower the level, the more important it was on the totem pole. Ulerian’s use of the Illuminus Weizar was the current focus of the facility so he had the ground floor. Above that on the second floor was a lab dedicated to the defense of the facility where they were developing magical barriers and shields to protect them from Wyrmrider attacks. The third floor was reserved for the understanding of Sand Wyrm physiology with the hope of somehow deterring them.

It was from the fourth floor onwards that research into the Molting Disease continued.

Aria had to admit that she could see the drain on resources the defense research was taking on the staff. Apart from Edith, everyone appeared tired and running on fumes. Harm could easily reverse time for them and restore their bodies and though she could conjure up energy drinks or food to refuel their bodies, what these people needed was sleep.

Desperation seeped through the walls. Fear of what the Wyrmriders would do fueled them. But just as Harm warned, mistakes would far more easily be made in exhaustion. That was a suggestion she would make shortly. Perhaps volunteer her and Harm’s time to guard the walls. After all, an immortal angel and a Chronomancer that didn’t need to eat or sleep would make perfect guards.

Solholme led her to the fourth level while explaining that, on this level, geneticists were working on ways to encode spells into cells.

“Using the same techniques used in Haven for body modification,” Solholme explained as they approached the big, white doors with be words ‘Lab 4’ painted on it in bright red, “we hope to encode the very spell that Doctor Ulerian will eventually develop into the cells of those suffering from the Molting Disease, hopefully curing it.”

Ambitious and certainly something often practiced on Haven. It was entirely possible as well to pass this immunity down from generation to generation. While there was a risk of it being diluted with successive generations, once the technology was available, it should be an easy matter of simply reapplying the immunity. Though there was one thing that concerned her.

As they stepped through the door, she asked, “What about cross-breeding?” she asked. “What if an Avios had a child with a human, Wulfun, Ursus or any other species? The spell could cause havoc on a genetic level if the individual doesn’t even have a remote chance of suffering from it.”

A third voice cut through their conversation. “I trust whatever spell that hedge mage, Ulerian, comes up with would be robust and resilient enough to avoid such a horrible fate.”

It was that same, panicked parrot from earlier. The man must have made it past them while she was undertaking the rest of the tour. Now that they were in a well-illuminated laboratory, she could finally get a look at the man. Possibly in his late fifties, the man had a hunch that likely was developed from years of being bent over his work. That limited his height to about 5’4’’. Sharp, blue eyes poked out from behind a large beak that had a slight chip on its tip. Grey feathers sprang up from the base of his beak with similarly gray hair jutted out from the top of his head. Beneath the lab coat was a clean, pressed suite and tie combination, colored a modest gray. The rest of his feathers went through the rest of the color spectrum starting from green, fading to blue and then through to red, orange and yellow.

“Doctor Valdin,” introduced Solholme, gesturing at the man. “This is Lady Aria Valkyrie.”

“The one that would give us hope and then abandon us in our time of need,” scoffed the Avios. “Now that you have seen our plight, what prayers will the immortal Angel offer us and how in the Void do you expect us to ‘help ourselves’?”

Clearly, this man had a chip on his shoulder against the Church and theocracy.

“Have some respect Athuras!” snapped Solholme. “We need not make more enemies.”

“More enemies?” repeated Aria, regarding her coolly.

Without skipping a beat, the crimson Avios said, “The Wyrmriders are just a name we give to the variety of slavers and bandits roaming these sands. The last two raids came from two different clans. Because we did not kill them, I have little doubt in my mind that they will come back in force. Potentially even call upon different clans. We could have a real Ahl’Zhamiid on our hands.”

She frowned at the name. Despite all her years of experience, she had little knowledge of the Sunless Land’s native tongue. Harm would likely know more. That said, she still knew that ‘Ahl’ meant ‘war’.

“Please translate for me,” she asked.

Valdin scoffed once more. “It means War of First Rights. The different Wyrmrider clans rarely, if ever, come together in unity but they are like ants to sugar. If a tantalizing enough treat is dangled in front of them, they will all rush to it and try to claim it. They form a sort of ‘war council’ where they agree on terms and then all work together to defeat their target.” He held up four feathered fingers. “There have been four Ahl’Zhamiids before. Three of the latest was incited by the Marauder King as he liked to be called. All against Glasterah. None of which succeeded as you can imagine. The earliest one was supposed to be during the Purge of Time when a Chronomancer invaded these lands.”

She remembered that. Evaryn the Everblooming’s campaign to bring back her son by sacrificing every life in the Sunless Lands. It was the only time that the Church, Searanti, the armies of the Sunless Lands and the progenitors of the Wyrmriders all came together against a single enemy. Chronomancers were that dangerous. Though Evaryn had an army of apprentices and Initiates at her command, she alone was so powerful it was like taking down a god.

Incredible to think that such an event, one she participated in, could have given birth to the term ‘Ahl’Zhamiid’. It also left a disgusted pit in her stomach at the idea that those Wyrmriders might have started their practices of slavery and torture after what they did to the Initiates under Evaryn.

“Surely that wouldn’t be the case here,” she said.

“Why do you think the Marauder King keeps attacking Glasterah?” huffed Valdin. “It is a shining beacon. A fucking lighthouse. It just tempts everyone to come and conquer it. If Flareclaw gets enough of a reputation, it’ll be just like Glasterah. You think a bunch of scientists can hold off entire armies of Wyrmriders?”

“Not without the support of the Church and its armies.”

“That’ll just make things worse!” Valdin threw his arms up into the air in frustration. “Have you not been listening to a thing I’ve been saying? We need to evacuate! By making Flareclaw even more tempting, we will be provoking the Wyrmriders! Especially when we let them live!” That last declaration was shot directly at Solholme.

It was becoming increasingly clear who was the driving force behind the plan to evacuate.

With infinite patience, Aria said, “Yes and we had already discussed that abandoning this facility especially with all of this Havenese technology would be irresponsible. Perhaps the better option then would be to secure this facility…” She lifted her hand, demanding silence the moment Valdin opened his beak to protest. “… and organize a slow relocation of all the equipment somewhere safer.”

“That I would be opposed to,” answered Edith sharply. “Everything here is highly classified and delicate. You said it yourself. There is a lot of energy being used here. Moving all of that while under constant threat of the Wyrmriders is equally as irresponsible. Either you find some way to defeat those black sand bandits once and for all or we destroy everything here to prevent them from being used or mishandled.”

The divisions and cracks in this organization were showing themselves. If Ulerian were here, Aria had no doubt that Valdin would have sharp words for him. Edith clearly favored the Cervitian’s work and though Valdin’s research would ultimately be needed, he was relegated to the fourth floor as opposed to the second. He had no choice but to squawk and make as much noise as possible to make himself heard. The nature of Ulerian’s research also meant that he was guaranteed a lengthly employment but Valdin…?

“We can’t stay here!” barked parrot. “We are tempting fate already by staying here a minute longer!” He pointed an accusing finger at Aria, his eyes filled with desperation. “Evacuate us! We can continue this research on some Havenese mote! I don’t see why we have to stay here of all places!”

That was a very good question. Why would they continue their research here of all places in a lawless land. They could have direct access to more equipment and resources on Haven. Yes, Incendius was the ancestral home of the Avios but wasn’t there more suitable locations? What was so special about this place? Was it just because it was a pre-existing facility and community?

“How long did it take to decipher one letter in the name of the Molting Disease?” she asked.

“On average?” Edith responded. “One year at a minimum. Four at the most.”

She did some quick calculations. Four letters had been found thus far and this current batch was two years in. Which meant that either Ulerian had already been working on this solution for eight years or was here before hand. These Havenese facilities were relatively new and she knew that Solholme came from Haven herself. It was logical to assume that she was the one that implemented the new architecture and focus of the research.

Which meant that they had begun the batch research almost immediately when Solholme took over ten years ago.

Something was not right here.

“If you would allow,” Aria said curtly, “please call my colleague back here. I would like to discuss our options.”

“Of course,” Edith responded with a slight bow. “I will show you to your quarters as well. Given that we should commit to a solution until the next opening for communications until tomorrow at the earliest, we should rest.” She cast a glance around her. “I suppose everyone could get some rest.”

“Finally, some fucking sense!” shouted Valdin. “Everyone here is exhausted because of your obsession, Edith!”

Obsession, yes. But obsession over what?

Relief washed over the laboratory when the call to wrap up the day was given. Like half-dead zombies, many of the scientists and workers shuffled out slowly, barely dragging their feet. Harm arrived a short while later accompanied by the Viperion, Kaiver. They were standing a little closer to one another and Kaiver seemed to lose his cautious edge around the Chronomancer. Dangerous given Harm was just as deadly with his Time Magic as he was with his charms.

“What?” Harm asked, stepping past the slow line of near-catatonic scientists. “Did the coffee machine break or something?”

Valdin was just passing him. “The Queen Bitch has been working us ragged. You want answers, ask her!” Then he was gone through the door, likely heading to the personnel quarters. Edith didn’t even react to the harsh words and merely stood there with her hands folded behind her back.

Harm looked to Aria for an explanation which she quickly provided. As she explained, he quietly used his Chronomancy to rejuvenate some of the passing scientists just a little bit. Not enough to wipe off their exhaustion completely but at least enough to make sure some rest would recover the rest.

“I must admit,” Solholme said as the last of the scientists shuffled out. “I never expected to see such kindness from a Chronomancer.”

“I never expected such dedication to research but such callous disregard for life in anyone apart from a Chronomancer,” Aria retorted, shooting her a piercing stare. “I cannot imagine what harm the Molting Disease did to you but rushing to a solution or manipulating people to keep them imprisoned here under some distant hope of curing a disease is not a way to be remembered.”

Solholme strode past her, keeping her avian head high. “I do not expect to be remembered. I am just the latest director to take over this facility. There have been many iterations beforehand. Someone, somewhere always decides that we are a drain to their pockets and the director will be forced to resign if no tangible results are shown.” She turned to them, spreading her arms as she blocked the exit. “This facility has ten floors. Only the first five are dedicated to the research against the Molting Disease. Though floors two and three are now in the defense of this facility.”

The picture was growing clearer. Edith Solholme may have come with great accolades but she ran this facility on the charity of shareholders and support from mysterious benefactors like Anita Oakley in Haven. Getting such frugal and often frivolous people to commit to what could easily be an eighty-year endeavor would have been impossible. So they needed to provide some tangible results, prove their worth to the world. Providing a single letter every one to four years would not be enough especially in the quarterly financial reviews.

“And the rest?” Aria asked.

Edith held up a finger. “Floor 6 is dedicated to studying the unique combination of Geomancy and Aeromancy that local Wyrmriders use in this land to move their ships. Floor 7 is dedicated to the properties of the black sand. It doesn’t exist naturally and yet, it somehow still continues to be produced and somehow manages to absorb 99% of all light that strikes it.”

One of the reasons Evaryn was so fascinated with this land. Even if the Sunless Lands was too far from the Sun Spire to benefit from its light, it would could still have had most of that light absorbed because of the sand native to the area. The Everblooming Chronomancer was convinced there was stored energy in the sands and could be used to reach back thousands of years in the past to bring her son out of death’s grasp.

“Floor 8 is our operations level where the likes of Kaiver and his security force work to maintain the integrity of our facility. Floor 9 has my office. Floor 10 was recently added to house the Nebula cannon_._”

So there were two other branches of research that could be used to convince shareholders to keep donating money to the cause. Considering how floors 2 and 3 had been converted to defense weapons, something told Aria that they could easily be used in weapons research to tantalize the warmongers that were backing this research.

“Financially adept and with such lovely feathers,” Harm commented with a smarmy smile. “What a deadly combination. No one better to lead this facility.”

“Exactly why I took up this position,” Edith responded, lowering her arms. “Cowards like Valdin fear something as small as a Wyrmrider invasion but this place has stood here for over fifty years. I’ll be damned if it falls on my watch.”

Is that all it was? A matter of pride?

Something told Aria that it was much more. “Everyone is tired,” she concluded.

“Speak for yourself,” Harm quipped. “Give me one of those ships and I’ll sail around as a nice, big, fat, golden distraction for the Wyrmriders. I can draw their attention and keep them off your backs. Hell, maybe I’ll let them capture me and then I can break out and destroy wherever they’re living.”

Kaiver rested a hand on his shoulder. “They actually live on the back of ancient Sand Dragons. They have huge cities built into their scales and constantly are on the move. That’s why they’re so hard to find and eliminate. If you’re not dealing with trying to find them, it’s dealing with their ‘Mothers’ as they call them.

Harm didn’t seem perturbed. “In my whole existence I’ve never destroyed an ancient Sand Dragon.” A savage grin crossed his features. “Guess there’s things in this world that I still have yet to do.”

“As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Edith said. “We are not killers and you can throw some technicality about you not being us or not representing us but I cannot, in good conscience, let you go out there and destroy an entire society even if it is only peripherally in our name. I must insist you stand down.”

Harm turned his golden eyes to her with an unreadable mask, the corners of his lips twisted upwards with his ever-present smile. That stare would have been unnerving to most but Edith Stolholme stood her ground, blocking the exit.

That was truly admirable.

Then Harm broke the silence with a smirk. “I like you, Solholme. Try not to let that parrot kill you in your sleep. Something tells me that squawker with anger issues is the kind to stir up trouble.”

“I appreciate the concern,” Solholme answered, finally stepping aside. “Now please, follow me to your quarters.”

Once again, Aria followed Solholme through the corridors of Flareclaw alongside Harm with Kaiver bringing up the rear. As they walked, however, Harm subtly made clicking noises with the side of his muzzle like he was flicking his tongue against a particularly stubborn piece of meat stuck between his fangs. She kept a keen ear on it the pattern of noises, following along with the realization that he was using that series of clicks to tell her a message in the language she, Lumire, Sophia and Harm had developed back during the Purge of Time.

Translation: what about level 5,2 and 3?

Indeed. Edith had briefly glossed over the fact that the first five levels of Flareclaw were dedicated to research to cure the Molting Disease and went into detail about the other levels did. But she never said what the 5th Floor did. Subtly, she lifted her hand so that only he could see and showed him to fingers and then three. His very subtle nod indicated he understood she knew what levels 2 and 3 were for but level 5…?

They were let to some sleeping quarters where, one room for each of them beside one another. Each room was fairly basic. Barely big enough to fit one person but with a bed, a small desk and closet for their use. Harm made a comment that he didn’t need to sleep which Edith mentioned that he should respect the need of sleep for everyone else and either go outside or stay in his room.

That was when they were left to their own devices, Kaiver leaving with Edith as the doors shut behind them.

Aria lay down on the bed, closed her eyes and waited.

A series of taps on the wall came a second later.

Translation: So should I use the vents to sneak around?

She smiled and tapped an answer back.

Yes.