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Karniel's centuries spent with Mortel gave him more insight into chrono magics than most other mages on the material plane. With his insight and Basphemen's books, Cathka and Mathus did in a week what might have taken months more. They formulated a ritual spell that might do what Mortel offered to do for Mathus. The dead god had not returned to haunt Mathus' dreams, but they had not spent time trying to figure out how to cut Mortel off, either. Though, he did not mind an excuse to continue sharing a bed with Cathka.

Like Korlyon, Mathus had grown quite fond of her, and hoped she would stay by their side for more than just some oath she made to Karniel. Soon as they got back to the surface Mathus planned to go looking for his wolf. He worried about the young man, and found the longer they stayed in Pterodea, the more it felt like he was breaking the promise he had made to Korlyon.

It was while clouded with these thoughts, that Mathus followed Srek out of the underground apartment-like structure they had been staying in and into that grand chamber that was the city proper.

“Are you nervous, Master Mathus?" Srek asked. The kobold's scales practically bristled with eagerness when Mathus had made his request.

“A little," Mathus said. He had decided to not take Cathka with him in this case. So all he had were his thoughts and his rust-colored companion. Mathus idly wondered what Srek's scales might look like in the daylight.

“Don't worry, the egg chamber is a place of wonder. You will surely love exploring it."

Mathus would not exactly be exploring. Srek knew this—Mathus had no desire to trick the Pterodeans—he would complete the ritual as he had practiced it with Cathka. At his side, his finger signed little glyphs in the air for the pattern she taught him.

“Will it just be the two of us?"

“Oh, of course not!" Srek squeaked. “For the cleansing ritual one kobold is never enough."

Mathus did not care for the sound of that. “Err, what is this cleansing ritual, Srek?"

His guide signed a glyph in the air then put his snout to the glowing rune and whispered, “Dizzy, come." Oh gods—of course they were taking a worm to the egg chamber. He glanced up at the massive beasts lazily grazing on the chamber ceiling, and shuddered when one of those beasts noticeably perked up and crawled along the ceiling and walls towards them.

Srek made note that Dizzy was on her way before he turned and said, “Why ruin the surprise, Master Mathus?"

“Because shouldn't I be prepared to make sure the ritual is a success?"

“Do you trust me?"

Mathus hesitated a moment. He didn't, given all that had happened in their stay, but he knew better than to answer with that. “I trust that you will keep me from coming to any harm."

Srek said, “Then there is nothing to worry about."

“The cleansing—is it something the bats do when they perform their Death Rites?"

“Yes! Only kobolds and worms can enter without cleansing."

“I see," Mathus paused and noted Dizzy's impending approach.

“Why is your worm named Dizzy?"

“When she was little she tended to get lost and fell off walls a lot," Srek answered before waving the worm over. Its massive, hairy, segmented bulk came to rest on the platform they waited on along the cave wall. Dizzy made sure to contract her body across the platform, using Pterodea's curving architecture to do this more readily. Underneath her belly, kobolds and bats alike walked beneath her, going about their business. They spared Mathus a glance, but his many tours of the city had inoculated him to the immense attention he received when he first arrived.

Srek helped Mathus climb onto the worm's back. He wrapped his hands around the kobold, as if the smaller reptile's body might be an anchor should he tumble off. “Egg egg," Srek chirped and the worm began to move. It had only been his third time riding one of these, so Mathus closed his eyes to not watch their descent into Pterodea's base. He asked to keep himself distracted, “How long does the ritual usually take?"

“Oh, until we think you're cleansed," Srek said.

Mathus' brow furrowed. “But what am I being cleansed of?"

“Hunger?"

“You're feeding me?"

“Before the bats initiate their Death Rite, they are fed one final time."

“I don't feed like bats do."

“You should still be cleansed."

“I don't think this makes any sense."

Srek touched Mathus' hand, smaller scaled fingers rubbing up and down the knuckles that held tight to his waist. “You have been much too stingy with your body, human. We kobolds share everything, and we wish to share you."

Mathus' pulse picked up a little. It flustered him for certain to be—well he did not need to imagine much for his loins to stir. The kobolds of Pterodea all had these same sinuous, lithe bodies. And Mathus had been curious…

Still, “Uh, I don't suppose you consulted with Dera about this, did you?"

“Oh, do you want me to tell Master Derada that you are tampering with the Cycle?"

“Um, no, that is quite alright. You and whatever kin you brought along with you are welcome to have me."

Karniel had warned them not to let his brother in on their plans. “That brat will intervene simply on the grounds of punishing me. No—whatever you do, don't let him know about this," Karniel said at a low growl. Despite the keen hearing of Karniel's kin, Cathka, Mathus, and Karniel all made sure to speak in Emerald City common so the Pterodeans could never decipher their plans.

Srek purred against Mathus. “I only brought my mates, Mathus. And I promise they will show you pleasures you've not felt."

“Mates? Like friends or—"

“Lovers?" Srek asked. “They are the ones I love and spend the most time with."

“Ah, I see."

“Like you with Cathka and Karniel."

“Cathka is not—" Mathus opened his eyes, cheeks hot. A wave of nausea took him as he saw that they had stopped, vertically, at a hundred foot drop to the bottom of the chamber. They were waiting for another meandering worm to get out of the way. Mathus shut his eyes, grip on Srek tightening. Some magic of the creature kept him perfectly glued to where he sat; he did not even feel a sense of vertigo, but just knowing made him sick.

“You do not love her?"

“I, um, care for her a great deal. But Karniel is the one I love."

“Why not love both?"

“I just don't know if I can do that to Karniel."

“Ahhh, I see, they fight."

“No Srek, they like each other! I think—Cathka does at least I still am not sure Karniel forgives Cathka for the whole debacle with Basphemen."

“Debacle?"

“It's not worth getting into," Mathus said, a little exasperated. “Don't you love or value one partner more than the others?"

“Hmm, I suppose there is one I am closest to, but that doesn't stop me from loving the others."

“But doesn't that make the others—I don't know, less special or something? When you use the word love carelessly like that?"

“Come on, Dizzy, they've moved," Srek encouraged the worm. As they descended the last portion of their journey, he answered: “I think we have different definitions of love, Mathus. Or maybe you're just very possessive?"

“I've never really considered myself that." But Mathus realized that up until Karniel exploded into his life he had never really needed to share anything with anyone. Not for most of his life, at least, given what happened to his parents. Then he lost everything but his books and what he gathered on the road and Karniel, his companions. He did cling to them, he could not imagine letting them go—gods he had just been thinking how first thing he would do on the surface is find Korlyon!

“Karniel is too!" Srek pointed out to fill in Mathus' silence. “It is why I don't think he fit in here. He is very protective of you, yes?"

Without hesitation I would burn this world down to protect you," Karniel had said. That kind of love… Mathus did not know if it was good for either of them to carry it.

“Perhaps… we are possessive."

“Something to reflect on!" Srek chirped. “You have so much on the surface, so many people, so many places, why would you just hoard everything in one place, in one person?"

“I…" Mathus did not know what to say. He was not really sure he could answer these questions yet. “Your people are very wise, Srek."

“We know," Srek said as Dizzy came to a stop. The kobold hopped to his feet and offered Mathus a hand. “I'll help you down, Master Mathus." It was not much of a drop off the worm, no more than slipping off the saddle of a horse. Srek did not let go of his hand, and Mathus expected this was the real reason he wanted to help.

It did make Mathus very aware of the fact his palms were sweating.

“Come come come," Srek said as they passed through a soft soiled meadow. A stream ran through, coming from the waterfall that cascaded into the other end of this depression. Its waters glowed with bioluminescence, which provided light along with lavender sunflower-shaped flowers that smelled of crushed rose hips. It had a serene sort of beauty to it that made Mathus want to bring both Karniel and Cathka here to share in it. And Korlyon, he thought as walked along the stream, thinking how these simple pleasures were truly at their height when shared.

They reached an opened mouth decline into the earth. It was gently sloping and just tall and wide enough for a line of bats to walk single-file through it. Its bowels were utterly pitch black, a waiting maw of darkness.

Srek led them into it without so much as casting a spell for light. Mathus quelled the urge to try a spell for himself. It was within his ability now, but he resisted the urge to expend the energy. It really would not take more than a drop of power, but no, Mathus swore to not use Mortel's—his—Heart like that. He would not harvest the souls of the dead, so instead, they plunged into the dark, Srek's warm palm leading him along.

The grip of this hand, the brush of his tail against Mathus' leg, and smell of stone were the only sensory details he had. He could tell the chamber both descended and gently curled around like a spiral staircase. In this time, Srek did not speak, and Mathus found himself unable to break the silence, either. Whether it some strange magic or wading through that impenetrable dark, Mathus lost track of time. They simply reached the end of their journey, and he could not guess how long they had walked.

But when it returned, light came sudden and bright. They stood in a large antechamber of glowing silver. Not silver, but pearlescent, as if luster could be turned into its own source of light. His eyes stung stepping into it, and so he did not immediately make out the other figures in the room. He heard Srek with three others, and had been in Pterodea long enough to recognize the difference in the scratchier, higher registers of two more kobolds, and the deep, smoother register of a bat.

Mathus rubbed tears from his eyes and waved sheepishly. “Hello, uh, I'm Mathus of Morgen's Rest. Sorry, still adjusting. Gods this room is bright."

“It is built out of Dea's cocoon," Srek said before waving to the companions beside him. They all wore simple loin cloths, a sash across one kobold, and another whose eyes had been painted with a sunset colored eyeshadow blended into their golden scales. The other kobold had a pair of long, whisker like tendrils and was a soft blue with purple underbelly. And the bat… well she looked to be a head taller than Karniel with a septum ring in her nose and chest wrapped to hold up her bust.

Srek gestured to them all in turn, “Master Mathus these are my mates, Kren, Fisk, and Master Galba."

“I—" Mathus cleared his throat. “Hi, I suppose we should get on with it?"

Kren, the golden kobold, clapped his hands together and said, “Oh, we should, shouldn't we? Here, we have brought food for you, and there is a pool over here where we will baptize you."

“Baptize?" Mathus asked.

“We make you repeat Dea's Sacrament, then wash you in the waters pooled and collected from the egg chamber," Galba said. She folded her long arms over her chest and asked, “Did Srek not tell you about the ritual?"

Mathus said, “He led me to believe the ritual would involve something different."

Srek grinned.

“Ah, you mean how bats are fed?" Galba asked. “That will still be a part of it. One part."

Fisk giggled. “I can't tell if he's excited or disappointed."

Mathus needed to learn a spell to hide a blush. Red-cheeked, he said, “I… must it?"

With a little sultry growl, Srek took his hand again and asked, “Surely you can enjoy yourself, too?"

“I don't know if that's fair to—"

“Fair for who?" Srek said. “Let go of those two, do what you want and trust they want you happy, Master Mathus."

Galba said, “Srek, if he does not want—"

“It's fine, really," Mathus said. Srek's bright, reptilian eyes beamed. He did not know if Srek really did mean to teach him a lesson or simply fuck him. It was, frankly, a strange turn of events. He did not deny the offer enticed him, and would Karniel and Cathka hold it against him? He knew, deep down, neither would be one to judge. Mathus set a hand on Srek's thin shoulder and said, “How do we go about this?"

All three kobolds made happy little squeaking noises. Galba, frowning, asked, “Are you sure, Master Mathus? These three are a horny lot, and you should not let them—"

“You are too kind," Mathus told her, “But… I admit to being curious. My entire stay here I was holding myself back because I did not want to seem selfish to those I travelled with. But perhaps some selfishness is due?"

As if she too held back a level of eagerness, Galba's smile flashed her wickedly sharp teeth. “Then let us prepare."

The meal Mathus had was a simple collection of fruits washed and presented on a smooth plate of woven and hardened silk. He did not eat until stuffed, only taking what he needed to satisfy his unlikely companions. Then came the baptism: Mathus stripped and entered a translucent basin of water. It went up to his chest, and while in it Galba washed him. Her strong, supple hands rubbing up and down his flesh did stir desire in Mathus, which Galba proved very competent in stoking further. While the kobolds chanted the sacrament, the bat rumbled in his ear, “Can't wait to have you wrapped around me," while probing his pucker with two thick digits. Mathus nearly surrendered to get fucked then and there, but Galba broke the moment by smoothly dunking him under water.

Mathus surfaced coughing and sputtering. Galba kissed him before he even got the chance to wipe the water from his eyes. Kissing her was like kissing Karniel, soft lips contrasted by hard fangs nearly pricking his chin. Her forked tongue invaded his mouth, sweet with fruit. She held him tight against her, and he could do nothing but surrender into her kiss.

Mathus heard splashing in the water, small scaled hands grabbed his arm. “Don't hog him," Fisk insisted.

Galba broke the kiss, and her large thumb brushed away the water in his eyes. He opened them to her sultry smirk. “You're good at kissing bats."

“Uh…" keenly aware of his erection pressing up into her dark belly fur, he mumbled, “Karniel has taught me plenty."

“Mmm, I bet. I can't wait to taste every part of you."

“Galba!" Srek said, tapping his foot at the edge of the pool, arms crossed. “I told Mathus on the way here that we weren't possessive people. You can't just hog him!"

She giggled and spared Mathus a wink before releasing him. Fisk, still holding his arm, led him out of the pool to the other two kobolds. Srek and Kren both pressed up against his bare skin, purring. He shuddered when Kren nipped his stomach, kissing him while Srek fondled his balls. A snout nuzzled into his butt, making Mathus raise up on the balls of his feet for a moment, but Fisk growled and spread his cheeks, claws digging into the human's skin. He heard the little kobold huff his scent there. Fisk joined in the other kobold's purring as he began to lick there, taking care to replace water with the kobold's much slicker saliva. The thin, reptilian tongue felt good against Mathus' rear. But before he might relax, Srek and Kren began to pay attention to his cock. The seven inches more than enough for both kobolds to lavish.

Their narrow tongues were a cherry red. They lapped up and down the shaft, Kren's wrapping around his girth at the base while Srek's wormed under his foreskin. He gave a happy chirp at the flavor there, and soon began nursing Mathus' tip. Fine, sharp teeth grazed his shaft for just an instant, but then, as if they retracted, Srek's maw was all sloppy, warm suction. Mathus, eyes closed and hands at his side, tense from all the attention, didn't notice Galba till she whispered in his ear, “You can be forceful with them, you know."

His eyes snapped open and he saw the bat's hand on the back of Srek's head—the size difference like Mathus holding an apple in his. She forced Srek's maw down on Mathus' cock. The kobold gagged while Kren protested with a little whine.

Galba moved right in front of Mathus, and guided Kren with her other hand to her wet pussy. Mathus noticed the moisture on the chocolate fur of her thighs, and smelled, too, a mixture of arousals. A bitter heat laced with spice, plus the earthier musks that must have been the kobolds.

Mathus watched as Kren happily buried his snout in Galba's sex. Dark labia split around the angular, gold muzzle, and gave Mathus his first real look at a pussy in a sexual context. He stared while Kren's tongue lapped along those folds, drinking up every bit of nectar, nose purposefully rubbing Galba's clit. On a bat, who was huge, it was roughly the size of Mathus' thumb. He realized, as one of her fingers finally got him to look up, that he wanted to taste her as well. He never noticed women before Pterodea, the beauty they held, but first there was Cathka and now this bat. Her shoulders were nearly as broad and strong as Karniel's, her heavy bust the only thing betraying softness in her athletic build. Her figure was voluptuous and strong, and her hungry, heated look left Mathus lost for words.

At the same time Fisk's tongue wormed inside his entrance, Galba leaned down into another kiss. Her mouth muffled his moan. Srek and Kren were pressed tight between them, unable to move as before. Mathus' cock was sucked and swallowed around the small kobold's throat, leaving a slight bulge above his jaw, but if it bothered him he gave no indication. All the kobolds were hard by this point, their lengths a similar red as their tongues with tapers at the end of bulbous bases.

And Galba still stole all his attention with her demanding kiss. Her lips worked smoothly against his, tongue running along the roof of his mouth, rubbing and sliding against his. Her kissing made Mathus lightheaded, any concern about doing these things far and away by now. Mathus panted hard when their lips parted. Fire lit in her eyes as she said, “I, ah, want to taste your blood."

“P-please," Mathus whispered, cocking his head to expose his neck.

Her fingers traced up his spine, she held him still, against her, and kissed his pale, scarred throat. Karniel's many bites had left their mark over time, but Mathus hardly cared. Each new one recounted a history of passion and ecstasy, which Galba knew just how to stoke. Her fangs brushed his tender flesh, a slight growl followed by those fine teeth puncturing him. The sweet pain of the moment, combined with the attentions of his kobolds, tipped Mathus over the edge. He came, cock jumping in Srek's throat. The kobold squeaked and jerked his head back what little he could. He swallowed and purred as the next several ropes of cum filled his maw with salty seed. Galba groaned with Mathus at the taste of his blood, cumming as well for her diligent kobold. Kren's licking became much more frantic and eager, and Mathus noticed the sharp scent that came with Galba's orgasm. It was the taste of his blood that sent her over the edge, and Mathus wrapped his arm around her neck to hold her there. He urged her to be greedy, and she suckled against the wound as both had their orgasms drawn out long as possible.

Mathus was lightheaded when Galba released him. They both watched each other, panting, Mathus' face flushed with threads of blood trailing down his chest. Blood on Galba's lips, taste of it in Mathus mouth when she kissed him again. Fisk's slender claws grazed his waist, and warmth flushed Mathus' body. Fresh need filled his loins while at the same time any weariness from blood loss was washed away. Magic worked on him. Cathka had shown him some of the things magic could do in bed, but this—

Galba growled and broke the kiss. She whispered, “I want you inside me," and slinked backwards. Kren knew better than to pursue her as she lay on her back. She spread her thighs, fingers reaching down to pull open her folds. They glistened in that gleaming chamber, a dark violet color that winked back at him. “Take me," she ordered.

Trembling, Mathus barely noted all three kobolds had backed off to watch, idly squeezing their dripping shafts.

“I'v—I've never had—"

“Just shut up and get over here," Galba snarled. Her finger rubbed circles around her clit. She clenched and more nectar spilled from her. Mathus got on his knees between her thighs and touched her there, fingers touching her labia in clumsy awe. It was wet and soft and hot to the touch. She grabbed them and teased, “You really know nothing, do you?"

Before he had time to be embarrassed, she had adjusted his digits and forced them inside her. He sank deeper, rubbing her vent as it squeezed down on him. She sighed and arched her back. “That's it. There is a lot more to touch than the surface."

“He has much to learn," Srek said with a little snicker behind Mathus. On his knees, the kobold was the same height, perfect for Srek to grab a fistful of his dark hair and twist his head around. That small muzzle did not amount much for kissing. Srek more opened his jaw around Mathus' cheeks and forced their tongues together. A viscous mixture of drool and cum filled his mouth. It reminded him of making out with Cathka, and the taste of his seed caused him to moan. At the same time, Srek's other hand grabbed a palmful of Mathus' rear. His slit-slick, tapered prick had no trouble penetrating him. As if that weren't enough, Fisk lined up his cock with Galba's folds, so when Srek humped forward his shaft sank into her sex.

All that stimulation doubled him over.

Srek's small, clawed hand shoved his face into Galba's soft belly. She smelled of lavender and a familiar sage. Karniel came to mind, just a moment before Srek started rutting him. The little kobold's cock was comparable to Mathus' in size, much bigger than his body suggested. He fucked Mathus on the balls of his feet, humping desperately and forcing Mathus' cock to churn up Galba's cunt.

“That's it, Srek!" Galba moaned. “Show him, hah, how it's done."

The kobolds had taken complete control, for before Galba could say more Kren straddled her face. His cock slipped inside her muzzle and she sucked just as hungrily as Srek had earlier. The gold kobold's tail lifted and shuddered as he hilted her maw, girthy base barely fit between her fangs. He twitched and started humping her in earnest. Galba relaxed and let her mouth and throat get used. She tore off the binding on her chest, and palmed her breast, dark nipples standing out as she teased both with her fingers. Mathus watched, transfixed before Fisk lifted his head up.

Mathus' mouth opened without being told. Kobold cock, red and bitter and hot plunged past his mouth. Fisk humped and ground his hips into Mathus' flushed face. His eyes watered at the kobold's strong, sharp flavor, but it made Mathus hot and submissive at the same time. He wanted more—could not believe he waited this long to let kobold's use him. The top of Fisk's purple slit rubbed against his nose, filling Mathus' palette completely with the kobold's cummy scent.

He whimpered and came.

Galba clamped down on his cock, her interior walls massaging his shaft as it jumped and spilled his seed. Her cum in response flooded his thighs, one orgasm triggering the other, much as his peak might cause Karniel to finish when he fucked his lover. But her pussy was so different, it contracted and relaxed in ways an asshole could not. There was more texture and it was so wet.

Despite his orgasm, Mathus' cock did not become tender to the touch or start to soften. His balls ached with heat. Heat. He was a bitch in heat that needed to be fucked out of it. He understood, with sudden clarity, that was the spell Fisk had cast. He moaned and grabbed fistfuls of Galba's fur for purchase. Srek dragged his claws down Mathus' back, hissing, “That's it, Master Mathus. We're going to milk you till Galba is nice and full."

Mathus clenched his rear and ground backwards. He wanted Srek to use him. Would beg for it if Fisk weren't fucking his mouth. Both dicks sawed in and out of him, rocking his body back and forth just enough to make a pantomime of Mathus fucking Galba, but the kobolds set the pace. The cock caving in his ass had left his rim dripping with precum and slit-fluid, it slid down his taint and cleft of his balls. The taper tip drove right up against Mathus prostate, building the insipid pleasure and pressure. His core was all numbing heat, body quaking just from the exertion of getting fucked. He did not even notice Fisk get close until the kobold released a cute little yip. His claws dug into the back of Mathus' scalp as he held him in place. The meat in his mouth throbbed and cum spilled, surprisingly voluminous and thick, into Mathus' throat. Too much too quickly to swallow, it backed into his mouth and sinus. He gagged, eyes watering as the salty, bitter cream reached his palette. The taste set him off again. He came, mewling for Fisk as he finally managed to swallow some of that load. Fisk released him, and held his head up by the hair. His cock, before Mathus face, jumped and spilled more strong-smelling seed across his face. Several jumps of it before Fisk shoved his cock back in Mathus' mouth.

Srek, by that point, had also reached his first peak. As soon as Fisk pounded back inside, Srek pulled out and jerked himself off, spraying thick kobold spunk across Mathus quaking backside and abused entrance. So much—as much as Karniel's massive balls produced. Then, without missing a beat, Srek sheathed his still cumming cock inside Mathus hole. Warm seed churning in his belly only brought more bliss to Mathus' reeling body.

Had he the presence of mind to reflect on that moment, it would have made perfect sense, given what the bats fed on, that the kobolds would be creatures of limitless stamina and peak productivity. Of course, Mathus learned this first hand over the course of the next hour. Srek never stopped fucking him, claws rending Mathus, leaving bite marks all over him, making him stink of their sex. And the things he told Mathus:

“If you'd just stay here I'd do this to you every day. Rrrr, get you a nice little leash, use my magic so you fed like a bat. You'd love that, wouldn't you slut? If I used you till you were fat off my cum. Practically pregnant with it, huh?"

At one point, Fisk and Kren switched places, and Mathus screamed, “Yes! More!" in the middle of it, voice hoarse from getting his throat used.

Eventually, whatever spell had been used wore off, and their frantic fucking slowed, became languorous bodies gyrating on top of each other.

Mathus came too sweating on top of Galba. A finger touched his cheek. Kren, smiling, offered him a bowl of water. Grateful, Mathus took a drink.

Galba, as if waiting for him to regain his senses, also got up. They untangled themselves, and she said, “Go dunk yourself in the pool again, then you will be ready."

“Mhmm," Mathus said. His legs wobbled, and Srek grabbed his hand to help him over.

He said as Mathus stepped down into the pool, “I hope this convinces you not to keep me waiting next time."

Mathus shivered and dunked his head in the relatively cool water. He came up shivering and rubbed the water from his eyes. His shaft, now flaccid, ached from all the exercise he got. Plenty of him ached, but at some point one of the kobolds had healed the marks they left on him, except for Galba's bite.

Mathus clambered out the water and said, “I worry next time you'll convince me to stay in Pterodea."

“Would that really be so bad?" Srek purred while fondling him. Galba knocked his wrist away.

“Leave the poor man alone," Galba chided. She offered Mathus her hand. “I'll walk you to the door."

“I appreciate it."

“Mmm, much as I enjoyed leaking with your fluids, you came here for something more important."

Srek huffed, but they both ignored him and reached the doorway into the Silken Egg's interior.

“Good luck, Master Mathus," Fisk said, which was echoed by the others.

“We will wait here for you," Galba added. “Take however long you need."

“Thank you all, for everything."

Nervous now, Mathus took a deep breath and walked inside the Silken Egg. If it were once silk, it was stone now, banded and striated all around with a ropy texture that did make it seem as if it was spun together. It was massive in size, the scale taking Mathus a few moments to take in. No doubt five hundred bats might congregate together for their Death Rites. Hundreds of feet above, perhaps near the surface of Pterodea proper, were a ring of large holes clearly meant for worms to enter and leave the chamber by.

As Mathus stepped deeper inside, down into the center of the Silken Egg, his flesh became suddenly dry. As if something absorbed all the moisture on his skin and hair, whether from his baptism or his frantic fuck. Then the whisper of a voice passed over his ear.

“You are not one of mine."

Mathus paused, halfway to the center of the chamber where another small pool of water collected. He called out, “Are you Dea?"

“And you? Trespasser?"

“I am Mathus of Morgen's Rest. I am sorry for trespassing, but I will not be long," Mathus said, feeling nerves flutter in his gut. The voice echoed in and out his ear, both feminine and masculine at the same time. Soft and spiteful. Mathus could not possibly place it.

“I know your intent."

Mathus kept marching forward, but felt eyes watching all around him. A wide, glaring audience, but it was only him actually inside the chamber. Mathus said, “I do not wish to break the Cycle, but I must save the one I love."

“The Cycle cannot be broken. My pact with my children is eternal."

Mathus stopped and called to the ceiling: “Then why are they so set on Karniel dying? Can't you tell them not to do this?"

“Their souls are promised to me."

“What does that mean?" Mathus said. “You won't stop them from killing themselves over and over?"

“A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength."

Realization dawned in his eyes. “Karniel living won't break the Cycle, but each generation of Pterodean is stronger than the last."

“It must strengthen."

“Why?" Mathus asked.

“Trespasser you ask so many questions."

“You were the one who made yourself known to me," Mathus said. He reached the base of the egg and sat down in the pool of water. It went no higher than his ankles, and was surprisingly hot to the touch.

“Power is drawn to other power."

“You mean Mortel's Heart. Do you not talk to your children when they visit here?" Mathus waited for an answer but did not receive one. He shrugged, “Alright, if you won't speak to me I will do my ritual and be done."

“What will you do when the tide rises?"

“Tide?"

“You do not know?"

Mathus shook his head. “Describe it to me, please?"

“It rises and falls. A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength."

“I see…" Mathus muttered. He considered what Dea might mean. “You are very old, aren't you, Dea?"

“I am oldest. I survived the last tide. We will survive the next."

“By we you mean you and your children?" Mathus said. He had the distinct feeling that…

“Yes. Do you feel it? The shudder?"

This time Mathus caught another feeling from Dea, something like excitement and terror. “What is it?"

“Soon the stars will fall."

The more she spoke, the more anxious Mathus became. “When?" he asked. “How soon?"

“I am very old. All things come soon."

“Gods, you aren't really here, are you?"

“I am here. I am here."

When Mathus shut his eyes and reached out his newly magically attuned senses he finally felt them. Dea, this shell, was a spirit. Fragmented with age but massive as well. Power equal to Mathus' own, but it felt… frayed. Like Calth did when Mathus sensed him in the sword.

“I… thank you for speaking to me, Dea. It is an honor." Mathus asked, “Do you know what will happen to Karniel when I remove him from the Cycle?"

“A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength."

“I see," Mathus muttered. Instinct told him this was not another cryptic repetition, but Dea answering honestly. They all feared Karniel might lose some of his powers when ripped from the Cycle. There was no other way, however. Pterodea was not an enemy they could afford to have the rest of their life, so removing his love from the Cycle seemed the only way to guarantee they would leave Karniel alone

Mathus began the ritual.

He did not expect the pool of water. His finger left ripples flapping along its surface as he drew glyphs in an arrangement that circled him. He turned on his knees, slowly, as he signed each glyph. This one meant time, this one meant “spirit," this one “egg," this one “strand," this one “air," and on and on. Mathus practiced signing it in the sand for days while Karniel and Cathka observed, corrected, and mentored him. It felt strange, but years of reading poetry helped him remember the words and order. He called to mind each one like the line of a poem, arranged in a long, complex verse.

The last glyph signed, three lines then a circle that crossed at the top of the lines: star.

Dea spoke to him again: “Watch them watch them watch them fall."

And Mathus disappeared in a flash of blistering light.

***

“Dea, darling?"

Master Archon, Dea of the Twisting Embers, turned from the balcony to her lover, who stood leaning by a sliding glass door. Ptero was a bipedal insectoid like her. They stood in a tower of steel and glass overlooking a sea rich and dark as blood.

Ptero's mandibles clicked. “You know watching them won't change how soon they get here."

The stars had been slowly falling for the last decade. Dea did a similar click back to her partner. They had slowed them down to a crawl, but still the stars were falling. “Yes, I know. We have nothing but time." Her four, wide blue eyes slowly blinked as he sashayed to her.

“If only you paid that much attention to me," he said. Their voices were nearly alike, as were their blue-beeetled chitinous forms. But she dwarfed him in size and silver stripes covered her back in thickening bands.

“Mmm, if I paid that much attention to you, they'd strip me of my title."

His giggle was a chittering noise. Soft and feminine as he took her hands. “Wouldn't it be worth it, though?" Suddenly, Ptero's expression stiffened. A hard clack from his mandibles sounded his alarm.

Dea turned and saw it. A star had fallen into the sea, and an unearthly tide rose with it.

***

Dea of the Twisting Embers did not weep when the tides rose. When the sea swelled pregnant with poisonous starlight. Everything began to warp and change where the starlight touched. It burned hotter than any magic, burned away any magic, and it spread, a contagion on the land.

Her court tried every piece of technology and magic at their disposal. All of their people's power and knowledge amounted to nothing. They knew it might not be enough. Their seers had divined the Cycle, and though they could not understand its source or why, they understood themselves trapped in it. The Cycle deepened in strength each time. This they knew. It was why they attempted to stop it instead of trying to escape its orbit this time.

She watched the End, but the Master Archon carried a deep fear of death in her heart. Her people were immortal with their magic, and she had not been ready for death.

Ptero chose not to be entombed with her. She fought and cried, but he would not. And so she left him with one of the last settlements, and used her magic to travel deep into the earth. In that quiet dark, she knew she needed to mimic the starlight. Appear as its kin. So the Silken Egg. A cocoon of all her magic and desire, hardened into a shell of creation and life, nothing remained from the prior Cycle but the shell of her spirit.

When the starlight came for her, it passed by, thinking there nothing to touch, and her children, fragments of her soul, were born after. Two thousand souls uniquely forged so they might be immune when the starlight came, and a race of children adept in magic as hers had been, with perhaps the time and chance to have enough energy concentrated in one place to preserve their home.

And as the starlight finally cooled, Dea relinquished her hold on her children, her cocoon, and gave them her decree.

***

“A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength," Mathus muttered, pacing along the banistered ledge of this library floor. “A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength." The library floors looped endlessly. Down like looking down the shaft of a long stairway: dark wooden banisters, red rug, and heavy bookcases filled with rows and rows of books. Above the same view continued infinitely. “A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength. A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength."

Mathus stopped, choking on his breath. He felt flung back into his body. “Dea…" he whispered. Like when he saw into Mortel's memories before… but hazier, blurry, except for that one scene: the moment the first star fell. Mathus' legs wobbled; he braced against the banister and slumped down till he sat on the floor. “Dammit," he cursed. “I hated that." He had no clue what he really witnessed or what might have slowed the stars down. He only saw the moment that force broke and flashes of its fallout.

It never felt good to be shown these things. Why hadn't these powers shown him something nice like a feast or masque or orgy? Mathus scratched his chest and noticed wool fabric. He was back in the tunic he wore before entering the Silken Egg. “But where is here?" Mathus asked aloud. He tried shouting, “Hello! Dea? Are you here?"

On and on his echoing shout cascaded.

Eventually his voice faded. “I suppose not," he muttered. He was alone, no doubt carried here by the spell. Karniel had said that when Mortel did this sort of spell it took him to a vast, endless hallway, lined with doors, and from each door the same bard, one Mortel knew as a child, sang a song. Each one carried a different subject matter, and to change the subject, to rethread the flows of time took getting the bard to change his song.

Mathus was so far from that he wondered if the spell worked at all. But no, Cathka had told him, speaking for Calth, that pocket dimensions not carefully crafted from the outside in would take a shape reflecting its user. Mathus realized the heavy wooden bookcases had the same scratches and scuffs as the ones of his old home.

The books were his bards. Getting up, still shaken by what he saw, he approached the bookcases and pulled the first book he reached for. A slim volume of wilting yellow pages. He opened it and saw writing. Very specific rows and tables of numbers with dates. The names of flowers native to Pterodea, how many lived and died and grew each year. It was for a single species, those lily-like ones he saw. Mathus just intuitively knew, and the more he held the book the more he knew its contents.

The text only went over twenty years of Pterodea's history. Mathus shelved it and sat back down. He splayed his palms out on the rug and concentrated on his reason for being here. He needed to edit Karniel's soul out of Dea's Cycle. It was risky and required a precise timing for when Mathus made the edit. Too early and Mathus might alter the course of Karniel's life or erase him from history entirely.

There. Mathus got up and paced around the left side of this floor. There he found rows of thick, black leather-bound texts. He pulled one from the middle of the top shelf and knew at a touch it was Karniel's. Mathus quickly flipped through the text, finding the pages resilient and heavy to the touch. He realized, even here, he might not be able to actually do a thing to the text.

“Having trouble?" Mortel asked. Mathus started, book falling to the floor. After its thump, Mortel closed the distance between them till his black-furred face loomed over Mathus. “It resists you, doesn't it? The powers that protect Karniel are truly tremendous."

“Are you here to stop me?" Mathus asked, trying to muster a brave voice.

“For once, no. Using such a spell calls me to you. Admittedly, I was held up by a strange spirit, but I found you when she relinquished her hold," Mortel said. “I would love for Karniel to be robbed of whatever it is that protects him."

“He's going to be fine. Nothing you can do could ever hurt him."

Mortel's lips curled into a sneer. “Devoted as a dog, aren't you?"

Mathus shoved the fox back. “Stay away from me."

“Tsk," Mortel's orange and black tipped tails whipped in irritation. “There is nothing I can do here but talk to you."

“And even that is more than enough torment."

“Hah! Believe me, human, your noxious presence reminds my spirit what nausea once felt like." Mortel stepped closer and Mathus backed away. The fox picked up the book between them and said, “Here."

“What?"

“I am trapped here until the spell is finished." His slender, padded fingers wagged the tome up and down. “Complete your business so we can both be done with this."

“But the pages… I can't."

“You can. Write in them, at least. His past, despite my best attempts, is immutable. But Karniel is, if ever so briefly, vulnerable to magic when first it is cast. So cast it."

Mathus snatched the book, finding its weight making him quickly grab it with both hands. He sat down and opened to the last page, and cursed when the last sentence was: “A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength."

“Careful now, wording matters," Mortel said.

On the page, new words faded in, but that phrase remained ahead of them. With a hunch, Mathus flipped to the first page and saw the book began with that phrase as well. Dea had bookended them in time with this rule.

Reminded of her, Mathus asked, “Mortel, do you know about the stars falling?"

“Stars falling? Those cosmic bodies could no more fall than the earth can leap." He cocked his head, twitching tails going still. “That spirit, what did she show you?"

“She showed me the world ending," Mathus answered honestly. Whatever he thought of Mortel, he knew the fox had no interest in the end of existence itself.

“How curious. You know those visions may be no more than the dreams of a dead god?"

“I…" Mathus glanced at the book. “A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength." That phrase inched its way down the page. “What if they weren't?"

“Then you should give me control of your body so I may wield the heart again. If I unified the material plane under my godhood, nothing would stop me from protecting my domain."

Mathus frowned. That felt wrong. His impression of Dea's world was one of great power and strength. Strength equal to any god, and they had been helpless. Dea had been. Even fragmented, her powers matched Mathus, so before she sacrificed herself she must have been a towering presence. They had nothing, and Mathus' world, unified or not, likely had nothing as well. He knew all of this now, a certainty burning inside him. Mathus looked down to the book, and at a thought a pen was in his hand. He said without looking up, “I don't believe you will save anything."

Mortel scoffed. “And who will? You and that monster you call a lover? If I had—"

But soon as Mathus changed the end to, ““A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength, and this is Karniel's last," Mortel disappeared. Mathus woke knees stiff and aching from resting on the stone floor of the Silken Egg.

***

“Oh."

Cathka looked up from her book, ears twitching when she heard Karniel's stomach growl.

“I think I am hungry," Karniel said, touching his belly. “Oh, I do not like this feeling at all."

“Does that mean—" but Cathka couldn't bear to say it. They had been waiting for hours now.

“Regardless of what it means, conjure me up something to eat. I'd rather do my Death Rite than feel this way a moment longer."

Cathka giggled as she touched her necklace. “Any requests?"

“Ugh, anything. I'll start eating the sand in here if you wait any longer."

***

Mathus groaned, falling back onto his butt to stretch out his legs. While massaging his knees, he asked, “Still here, Dea?"

“I am always here."

“The visions I had, they were your memories?"

“The stars had fallen."

Grunting, Mathus got his feet under him. “Are they going to fall again?"

“A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength."

“Mhmm." He had read versions of the apocalypse from different religious texts he had collected at Morgen's Rest. Nothing described what Mathus saw. He still did not know how to respond or process it, if he should even bother to share the knowledge. Dea's sense of time was all distorted, which meant, if this apocalypse she foretold did come to pass, it could be several millennia from now or tomorrow.

Mathus chewed his lip, considering what else to ask. Eventually, he settled on, “Last time, when you first felt the shudder, how soon after did the tide rise?"

“I was born shuddering."

“That might have been your most worthless answer yet," Mathus said. He sighed. “I cannot stay here. Thank you, Dea. It was an honor to speak with you. I hope when the stars fall your children will repel them."

“A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength."

“It certainly must," Mathus muttered as he headed to the exit. He signed a glyph, chest tingling. A green triangle floated in the space of his mouth and he said, “Cathka? I'm finished."

“Mathus?" The triangle flashed when she spoke, “Karniel is eating. He's hungry for mortal food. I think whatever you did worked."

Mathus smiled, but had trouble even thinking about that. “That is good to hear. I am heading straight back, assuming Srek doesn't hold me up."

“I'll keep testing things with Karniel, and once you return we can start planning how to confront Dera."

“Thank you, Cathka."

“See you soon."

The triangle exploded into a cloud of evaporating green mist.

Mathus returned to the antechamber where Srek and his mates cleansed him. They had been sitting in a circle talking animatedly amongst themselves when Galba noticed him. The bat nudged Srek and the kobold squeaked at the sight of Mathus.

“You're alive!"

“Were you worried I wouldn't be?"

Srek rushed over and hugged Mathus. “We were worried Dea might have smitten you with how long you were gone."

“How long?" Mathus asked. “I lost track of time in there."

“Two hours or so," Galba said.

Fisk skipped to Mathus, saying, “We were deciding whether to leave or not." He grabbed Mathus' hand and placed it on the back of his head. Mindful of his horns, Mathus obliged the kobold and gently scratched his scalp. Fisk purred and leaned against Mathus with Srek

Galba stood with Kren and said, “I would have stayed for a few days, at least, but these little ones need to eat eventually."

Srek, muzzle lying against Mathus' torso and looking up at the human's eyes, asked, “What now, Master Mathus?"

“Now we try to get another council called."

***

Karniel embraced Mathus, a familiar hug that ended when his nose crinkled. He nuzzled into the human's neck, getting a tender little gasp before he said, “You smell different." Smelled different than earlier that day, smelled like sex with…

“Srek told me I needed to—"

“Ah, say no more," Karniel let Mathus go, noticing the recent twin scabs of a bite mark on his shoulder.

Cathka, who had been waiting with Karniel, asked, “How was it?"

Mathus glanced between the two. “Um, I…"

“There's no need to be prudish, Mathus," Karniel said.

“You're not jealous or upset with me, are you?" Mathus asked, looking from companion to lover.

Cathka smirked. “Do I own you?"

“I don't like this," Karniel tapped the scabs on his neck. “The sex hardly concerns me. I know you can be quite slutty when the mood strikes you, Mathus, but I know our love goes deeper than a good lay."

Mathus covered the bite mark. “Spur of the moment. Sorry."

“You enjoyed yourself, at least?" Cathka asked.

Flushing, Mathus merely nodded.

Karniel waved it off. “Oh please, Mathus. What is there even to be embarrassed about?"

“I just don't want you two to think that—" Mathus stopped when he saw their faces. “Nevermind, I just realized who I'm talking to."

Cathka chuckled. “Are all humans like this?"

Karniel grunted. “It does seem to be an affliction of their species."

Before Mathus might protest, Cathka grabbed both males by the wrist and led them farther back into the council chamber, away from the guards and the door, saying, “Tell me about the spell, though, how did it go?"

Karniel sat cross-legged and tugged Mathus into his lap when the human opted to sit beside him. Ever since they had made up, Karniel was far from subtle about craving Mathus' touch.

He snuggled up against Karniel's chest before telling Cathka, who sat across from them, “I assume it worked? You told me Karniel was eating food last we spoke."

“Ate. Though, I dread what foul thing my body will do next."

“We've already tested it some," Cathka said. “My spells still aren't quite as effective and Karniel's wounds still recover remarkably quickly, but he is not as tough as he used to be."

“Ideally, only you two will ever know that," Karniel said.

“Yes, yes, your secret dies with us," Cathka said to him. “But what about the spell, Mathus? What was it like? What about the Silken Egg?"

Mathus sighed. “I'm still trying to make sense of it."

Karniel, who had been petting Mathus' front, said, “Between the three of us, making sense should be no trouble at all."

“I suppose I should start from the beginning…" Mathus spared no detail in his retelling of his journey through Pterodea and time.

Cathka got quiet through it, finger-combing her tail as she listened. Karniel, too, did not know how to process it. Mathus said when he finished, “Mortel doubted what I saw was real."

“Hmmph, he would discard any idea that didn't align with his plans," Karniel said.

“And you don't?" Cathka asked.

“Hardly, I consider all options. I'm just dismissive of the stupid ones."

“So you think we should care about this?" Mathus asked, hand clasping Karniel's.

“No, not now, at least," Karniel said, “Premonitions of doom only exist to provoke our anxiety. Frankly, there is nothing we can do. Certainly not in this pit. The stars could be falling right now and we wouldn't know."

Cathka nodded. “Karniel is right. I think this is worth investigating some more when we return to the surface, but right now? We need to plan out our next move."

“Galba is calling together a council right now," Mathus said. “She told me that, aside from Dera, most bats don't hold a grudge against you, Karniel."

“Quite," Karniel said, still contemplative. “My dear brother is the only other bat living at the time of my banishment. I can imagine its severity matters little to the others."

“What happened exactly?" Mathus asked.

Karniel shrugged. “I had a kobold caretaker. He liked his blood being drawn—I preferred it over his other fluids. It is, generally, looked down upon to draw blood, but with magic to recover we never really worried about it. Unfortunately, I let my appetite get the better of me and underestimated his constitution."

“And they banished you for it?" Cathka asked.

“I did not really fight the decision, and they were quite certain I could not be trusted."

Mathus muttered, “Then how do we get them to trust us now?"

“Again, a different generation will be passing judgement," Karniel said.

“We should prepare for the council," Cathka said. “Figure out what to say and how to present our evidence."

***

Word in Pterodea spread quickly. It only took half a day before Srek contacted Mathus to warn him the council would convene soon. The dim, blue lighting of Pterodea washed the sandy floor in a color that resembled a beach in moonlight. Time measured only in the groaning of stone, so quiet only the keen-eared bats could hear. An hour, three passed before others filed into the council chamber, careful to walk the perimeter of the sand circle that none entered. Mathus and Cathka had waited dutifully with Karniel; the trio in the center of that circle found it hard to speak up even as bats inside the chamber chatted with one another. Derada arrived almost last.

Not every bat in Pterodea occupied the chamber, just representatives of each section of the city came with some spectators in tow. At a signal, the council began with everyone in the room standing and facing the center. Mathus and Cathka rose with Karniel, flanking him and feeling wary. Though no one expected physical conflict, it was difficult not to feel endangered when surrounded by dozens of bats with the powers Karniel no longer possessed.

Derada stepped forward, into the ring of sand, and began the council by announcing, “We have been called by Galba, of the Sestrel line, who has appealed Karniel's judgement."

Galba, standing on their right, moved into the circle and said, “I have. We sentenced Karniel to death to maintain the Cycle. However, due to the human, Mathus of Morgen's Rest, this sentence is now moot as Karniel is no longer a part of the Cycle."

Derada scoffed. A reaction, many in the crowd shared. Karniel nudged Mathus and he stepped forward. “Permission to explain?"

“We order you to," Derada said coldly. “If you have endangered our people with some stunt then you know that we will—"

“Allow Mathus to speak his peace," Galba said.

Derada glared at her, but she seemed unperturbed by her elder's anger.

“Council passes judgements, it does not make threats," another bat to Derada's left reprimanded.

“Very well, speak," Derada grumbled.

Mathus said, “After performing a cleansing ceremony, I entered the Silken Egg. There I held communion with Dea, your goddess. I performed a ceremony that has removed Karniel from the Cycle."

“Impossible," Derada said.

Galba added, “Mathus you must provide evidence of your claim. Your word will not be enough."

Mathus nodded and turned back to his companions. “Cathka?"

Cathka signed a set of glowing red glyphs and violet flames engulfed her hand. “Karniel," she said, “lacks the resilience of your people now." She squeezed Karniel's wrist with her flaming hand. He bared his fangs with a pained snarl. The scent of burnt fur and flesh made several bats cringe.

Cathka released him, and, panting, Karniel lifted his arm to the crowd. What remained of the fur on his wrist had melted into purple, blistering flesh. Cathka said, “If it would please the Council, I can repeat this spell on another bat to prove my point further."

“Fine," Derada spat. “You may perform your spell on me." Cathka hesitated, but crossed the sand to him, signing the glyphs as she did. She only managed to singe Derada before his body shrugged off the spell, the flames dissipating as if contact with the bat snuffed them out.

Cathka stepped back. “Is that proof enough?"

“How do we know he wasn't simply weakened by a spell prior to the Council?" Derada asked.

“Please, brother," Karniel scoffed and raised his wounded arm again. “My flesh remains burned while yours is already healed." He dropped his arm and said, “Should we test different spells all day, on every bat in the room perhaps? By all means, turn me into a toad if it would suit you."

Derada scowled. “What in the Cycle is a toad?"

Mathus turned away to hide his snicker.

“Right right, a grubby little worm, then," Karniel said. “Regardless, it is clear my relationship to the Cycle has ended. The reasons for my execution—"

“Are more than just you jeopardizing the Cycle," Derada snapped. “You have killed countless on the surface, will likely kill countless more if we do not take responsibility of you."

“But Karniel has changed," Mathus insisted. “He is not the tyrant he once was."

“Why, I've not ransacked a single village since meeting Mathus!"

Mathus glared at Karniel. A look that said, You're not helping…

Cathka interjected, “He is also very much mortal now. It is unlikely he would ever have the power needed to rule the surface again."

Karniel blanched at the word “mortal" but held his tongue.

“You wish to argue he is no longer a threat to the Cycle or the surface," Galba said, projecting for the assembly. “While I am skeptical of Karniel's morality given his past, I agree with the logic of the mage. To condemn Karniel to death is a moot point."

“Do we not hold him accountable for all he's done?" Derada stamped his foot. “Honestly, I cannot believe we are entertaining this. Karniel is not here for what he might do, but for what he has done."

Galba folded her arms over her chest. “Pterodea has never sentenced one of its own to death. We set a dangerous precedent by entertaining the act now. Derada, I agreed with you when Karniel threatened the Cycle, but if he is no longer a part of it, why take these actions?"

Derada threw his hands in the air. “For justice's sake! If one of our people is responsible for some of the greatest evils committed we cannot condone his actions by simply ignoring them."

“Oh come now, 'evils?'" Karniel asked. “I doubt anyone in this chamber is equipped for an honest debate on moral philosophy. How are you even quantifying evil—"

“Stop," Mathus hissed.

Cathka quickly talked over Karniel to keep him from putting his foot in his mouth, “We make this appeal with the understanding of Karniel's crimes to the surface, but they are not crimes committed against Pterodea. Yours is a great and powerful people, but is it your responsibility to impose your own sense of justice onto the surface? You exiled Karniel for his crimes here, and returned him here for the Cycle, a point now moot. Let the surface deal with Karniel's actions."

“I second the mage," proclaimed Galba.

Cathka, whose hackles had been up for most of the meeting, finally relaxed.

A bat a few paces right of Derada cleared his throat and stepped into the circle. “If I may, Mathus, you claim Karniel has changed. How so?"

“Uh, well," Mathus bowed at the bat. “Yes, thank you for asking. Karniel and I have traveled the world for some time, and in that time he has only fought others in self-defense. He has even rescued and saved lives."

“Would you attribute part of that behavior to his connection to you?" the bat asked.

“I…" Mathus glanced at Karniel. He dreaded what an honest answer might mean, but offered it, “Yes, and I want to see more of the world with him. I want us both to travel and do good in the world—to make up for the things he's done."

“And he certainly can't if he is killed here," the bat finished with a little grunt.

Galba took the chance to add, “Our people believe in restorative justice. We do not lop off arms or cosign people to dungeons. We only punished Karniel with exile because we were at a loss with what to do with him. If we wish to continue to uphold those values, we must believe Karniel, too, can change."

Derada spat. “You trust he will not get tired of this human? Most of their time here they would not speak to each other. They are not some tried and tested lovers."

Mathus cringed. There was still much between Karniel and himself to resolve.

“Very well, we can ensure they cannot separate," the bat from before spoke up. “If, as they claim, Karniel is susceptible to spells, we can form a Pact of Binding between him and Mathus. Then it doesn't matter if they tire of each other."

Karniel scoffed. “Really, is that old kobold ritual necessary?"

Galba growled low in her throat. “You are not one we trust at your word. I agree with Kelkant. I motion Karniel's punishment changed to a Pact of Binding with the human Mathus of Morgen's Rest and both of them permanently exiled from Pterodea."

“Do we get a say in this?" Karniel asked, still indignant and ignoring Mathus and Cathka's confused looks.

“You are not a member of the Council," Kelkant said. “I second Galba's motion."

“And I protest it!" Derada yelled.

“Noted," Galba said. “All those in favor?"

A chorus of assent followed. Unlike mortal parliaments, the bats' keen hearing saved them from some painstaking count. A simple yes could be picked out and counted among the many, and Karniel heard the majority. More than two-thirds of the council agreed. Karniel and Derada locked eyes, both taken aback. Though, denying his brother did make Karniel smirk.

Derada bared his fangs and charged. Karniel had lost so much being removed from the Cycle—he was able to track his brother's movements, but he was not fast enough to do more than try to block Derada's swiping claws. Derada knocked his wrist aside like it was limp vine. His claws slammed into Karniel's collarbone, renting him open, bone snapping. They fell to the ground, Derada on top of him, his claws digging into Karniel's ribcage as if he planned to tear it out. Karniel could not even scream, for Derada's fangs had found his throat and ripped it open.

A force clubbed Derada off Karniel. Cathka, panting with a glyph still crackling with magic before her, had saved him. The council fell into an uproar, with half a dozen bats working to restrain Derada, who screamed and howled as they deliberately snapped his arms and legs in two, ripped out his fangs, and dragged the immobilized, slobbering creature out of the council chamber.

Karniel barely noticed, given how much damage Derada managed to cause in a few breaths. His extraordinary vitality, clearly, could no longer be relied on, but Mathus, at his side, reset his bones and stitched shut his wounds. As he signed wards he learned in the last month, hands trembling, shards of bone cast in the sand returned to Karniel's body. Mathus turned back time on the wounds inflicted, but for a few gashes of flesh still stuck under Derada's claws.

By the time Karniel could breathe again, the incident had ended. Mathus helped him sit up then hugged him tight. Karniel rubbed his back, whispering, “Thank you for that, darling."

“We promise you he will be dealt with," Galba said, standing over the two. Cathka stepped up beside them. Bats were filing outside the chamber now, only Galba and Kelkant stayed behind.

“What is the Pact of Binding?" Cathka asked. “Your assembly made their decision before we even knew whether we should protest or consent."

“It does not affect you, so why should it matter?" Kelkant asked.

Cathka placed a hand on Karniel's shoulder, which was still warm from the heat of the spell she cast. “These two matter to me," Cathka said.

Mathus, soothed, looked up from Karniel's chest and said, “I would also like to know."

“It is a ritual two kobolds use to ensure they can never be apart. Sometimes it is done out of love, sometimes as a punishment," Galba said.

“For lack of a better word," Karniel said in surface common, “It is a marriage ceremony. Only the dowries we exchange are parts of our soul."

“Marriage is a punishment for some, I suppose," Cathka said before asking Galba, “What will it mean for these two in the future?"

“It is simple, really. They will die if they spend too much time apart."

“How far is too far apart, how much time?" Cathka demanded. “You can't just—"

Karniel rested a hand on hers, squeezing it to his shoulder. “It will be fine, Cathka."

“There will be time enough to explain, but we should not delay the ritual. We will let the kobolds know they should prepare a binding ceremony, then we will make arrangements for the two of you to leave."

“Three of us," Cathka said.

“You are ready to leave as well?"

Cathka's nails pinched into Karniel's shoulder a little. “From the moment I got here."

“That makes two of us," Karniel said.

***

They released Karniel from his imprisonment, seeing as he offered no threat to Pterodea now. He complained about not being taken seriously anymore, but Mathus sensed a level of fear in his lover as well. He would occasionally catch Karniel testing his body while he thought Cathka and Mathus slept: using a knife to cut his palm and see how fast it healed, lifting stone furniture to test his strength, and once he had wondered Pterodea alone, running, jumping, and climbing to test how fast he might move. Only a week before, Karniel could outrace most horses on foot, and while he still had an extraordinary stride, he would no longer move with supernatural speed or grace he once wielded.

But most times, Karniel chose to simply sleep with Mathus when his lover retired. The both missed sharing a bed. It was a deep, soothing comfort for Mathus that he did not realize how much he missed till it returned: Karniel's musky sage scent, the warmth found tucked against his broad chest, and the soft chocolate fur against his tender skin. Mathus had become paler than ever in his stay underground, which only made his flesh contrast even more sharply with his partner's hide.

It was three days after the trial when both were woken by Srek. Karniel woke when the kobold entered the apartment, Mathus soon after by his partner's deep, belabored sigh and their door sliding open.

“Master Mathus, Master Karniel! We are ready for you both!"

Karniel groaned but sat up. “Must it be today? Now?"

“The other bats insist I come and get you."

“Galba must be keen to get rid of us, quickly as possible," Karniel said.

Srek shook his head. “Not at all! Master Galba wants the best for Master Mathus."

“And me?"

Srek shrugged.

“Typical," Karniel said as he got up.

Mathus, still sitting up in the bed with sheets tangled around his legs, asked, “Why is it in our best interest, Srek?"

“Council decisions can be changed again, and Master Derada could call another council once he has had a chance to speak with representatives privately."

“Dera?" Karniel spat. “They didn't seal him inside a stone slab for what he did to me?"

Srek shrugged again. “He will still perform his Death Rites at the appointed time. So long as he does not disturb the two of you he is still free to spend the last of his days as he wishes."

“Hmmph," Karniel grunted. “Then the sooner we get this over with the better."

Mathus slipped out of bed, naked. He said to Srek, “I'll wake Cathka and we'll get our things ready." He crossed the hall and found her sitting at the edge of her bed when he entered her room. “Hear us moving about?"

“Mmm, it time to go?"

“Seems like it. Sleep okay?"

“Not really, no," Cathka touched her necklace and signed a quick glyph. Her traveling clothes appeared on her in a blink. She got up with a flick of her tail and said, “Sooner this is over the better."

“Is something wrong?" Mathus stepped back as she crossed the room to grab Calth and belt the sword at her hip.

“It's nothing—nothing that can be done here, at least," Cathka said. “Remember the spell I taught you for your clothes?"

“I still don't want to use my conduit in that way," Mathus said. The spell she used had a holding pattern on a set of clothes enchanted with a corresponding glyph. She taught Mathus the same spell for his singular set of clothes, but…

“Someday I'll get you to understand there's no need to live your life with so many inconveniences."

“If you ever find a means to crack that nut please let me know right away," Karniel said over Mathus' shoulder. He wore a set of silk-spun clothes he had Srek and some other kobolds magically weave for them. It took a full day of trial and error to make Karniel a decent set of clothing, Pterodea having no concept or need for a good tailor. He now wore a dark purple and black waistcoat with a set of silver silk pants. “Now go on Mathus, quit taunting us with your nudity."

They did not travel far. With what little possessions they had, they headed along the rim of the tier their building was on until they reached a flight of stairs up a narrow alley. At the top of the stairs was a small building carved in a way that resembled the Silken Egg. Karniel complained about having the ceremony done at a chapel, but Mathus chalked it up to his nerves. They were both nervous. Neither knew how to process marriage, especially a forced one. The only agreement they had reached is the openness of their relationship would not be changed.

The kobold-sized chapel had two rows of pews, an aisle between barely big enough for a bat. At the front was an altar with two obsidian knives resting on it where a gnarled, silver-scaled kobold waited. The space barely fit their party and those already assembled: Galba, Kelkant, Srek and several mates and friends of his, and finally two other bats who stood in front of Derada. They noticed him last, as he stood in the back against the wall, but soon as Karniel spotted his brother he stopped.

“What is the meaning of this?" Karniel demanded.

“He wished to see the ceremony and has a right to be here," Kelkant answered from along another wall. The pews were too small for the bats to sit.

“After he's already tried to kill me once—I should think—"

“I come in peace, brother," Derada said. He held up his palms and said, “I bear nothing against you in this sacred space."

Karniel studied him a moment longer, brow raised. Mathus' gut churned, expecting any moment for another fight to break out. Cathka broke the silence: “Come on you two. Let's get this over with."

“The sooner to be out of this wretched place," Karniel grumbled.

They reached the altar and Cathka took a seat at one of the front pews with Srek, the seat comically small. The old kobold pointed at two marked spots on the stone floor, “You stand here, you here." Her voice, rough and deep, spilled out her muzzle with wisps of smoke.

They took up position facing one another, as if about to exchange vows. Mathus' throat grew a little tight. They had not really discussed what they might say to each other in this moment. They did not know if they would even be allowed.

“I, Mekrek, do call this ceremony to order," the old silver said. She stepped between the pair and raised her hands. “Goddess Dea, we carved and blessed this sacred space so it might be a conduit for you. Watch this ceremony with us, as we honor you and your Cycle with this Pact of Binding."

A force rocked through Mathus. He swayed on the balls of his feet, and Karniel quirked his brow. “It's nothing," Mathus mumbled.

“Be silent," Mekrek hissed over her shoulder.

Mathus cringed and nodded.

Mekrek cleared her throat, but before she spoke Mathus heard a familiar collective of voices say, “A Cycle must have repetitions to deepen in strength." Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, a quick glance around the room told him no one else heard Dea. He tried his best not to react while Mekrek continued:

“A Pact of Binding, among kobolds, ties together two not only in this life, but in the grander fabric of the Cycle. They travel this life as two tied together, joined into a one in the next life. For some, it is a declaration of love and devotion, for others a means to keep two souls in check. In all cases, it is an act of harmony and balance. This equal exchange of souls we bear witness to today."

Mekrek turned her back on the audience and said, “Mathus of Morgen's Rest, Karniel, son of Yinjra, Lepeste, Xeciel, and Dosa, if you have any words you wish to exchange, do so now. If not, let silence be your answer."

Karniel cupped his cheek, his palm big enough to cover most of Mathus' face. He nuzzled into the palm, and Karniel said, “We've known each other less than a year, Mathus, and, quite frankly, I am scared. I have watched relationships blossom then wither and die under the weight of time, and I am afraid of that happening again. That pain is worse than anything else I've ever felt. I do not wish to be melodramatic, but I'm not sure I can live through it again. You, though, are worth the risk, Mathus. Loving you has brought meaning to my life in ways I couldn't imagine."

By the time he finished, tears ran freely down Mathus' cheeks. He had not been ready for all that, said in front of all these others. Karniel wiped away his tears and finally pulled his hand away.

“Come now, darling, we both know you aren't a pretty crier."

“You bastard," Mathus said with a choked laugh. He rubbed his eyes and said, “Oh, gods, you rehearsed that didn't you?"

Karniel scoffed. “How dare you. I am always ready to declare my love for you. Are you not able to? What is even the point of reading all that poetry if not—"

Mathus shoved him, which only succeeded in pushing himself back. “Shut up, of course I can match that," he said, throat stinging. He took a deep, steadying breath.

Karniel leaned in and whispered, “Well?"

“Karniel!" Mathus practically snapped. “You are, without a doubt, the least liked person on this material plane—"

“How hurtful—"

Mathus put a finger to his lips to shush him. “They call you a Scourge, a tyrant, a monster. In the time I've known you, I have seen some of what makes people think that. You are arrogant, spiteful, and selfish." Karniel's ears folded back a little at the accusation, but relaxed as Mathus continued. “Yet here I am, at your side, willing to spend the rest of my life with you to save yours. When I see you, Karniel, I don't see the Scourge they claim you are, but a chance at a great future. With all your power and knowledge, with all mine, the good we can do this world can surely mend all the wrong you caused. I love you because I've not met someone I believe in more. I believe we have a long road ahead of us, but I have no doubt you'll make the journey worth it."

“Hmmph, nothing about my handsome profile or—"

“You also have a magnificent cock and are fantastic in bed. Happy?"

Karniel grinned. “More than I've been in a long, long time."

“You two finished?" Mekrek asked.

Mathus blushed, remembering others just witnessed their exchange. Srek, sitting in the pew next to Cathka, openly cried. Cathka thumbed the pommel of Calth, tail wrapped tightly around her. Something troubled her, but Mathus, much as he disliked leaving it unaddressed, could not ask what for Karniel said, “We are ready."

“Alright." Mekrek walked away and grabbed a stool next to the wall. She set it between them, stood on it and took their right wrists. “Hold hands, up here," she directed them above her muzzle, at height with Karniel's throat. Hopping off, she grabbed both obsidian daggers and moved to the front again. “Let us begin."

With both daggers, she began to sign a series of dark, bloody violet wards in the air. Each cut and slash made the room dimmer and dimmer. Alchemical lanterns and the residual light of outside dimmed and dimmed, till the chapel became totally dark. A darkness Mathus never once experienced. Inside it, he was only aware of Karniel's hand closed around his, and Dea's voice:

“Each time the tide rises it is caused by arrogance. We made too much, took too much. The tide rose. It will rise again from you. Now it was him, one of my children, and you, the one inside you. From you, the tide will rise again."

Mathus saw something, a tiny bead of white light, no more than a star's pinprick. A rush of wind nearly bowled him over. He squeezed Karniel's hand as the light grew with something like a whistle, swelling to a howl, an explosion, a shriek. Too suddenly, like falling from a cliff and racing to meet the ground, the light blossomed till he collided into the starlight.

In his shaking, clammy left palm, a dagger was placed. The touch jolted him back into the darkness, and he realized what he saw was another vision from Dea. The stool creaked as Mekrek climbed onto it. He led Mathus by the left wrist, placing the dagger against the side of Karniel's ribs. A sharp point nudged Mathus' ribs, a dagger Karniel held, Mekrek holding both their wrists.

The kobold yelled, “Now! These two souls!" She yanked, and his dagger sank into Karniel at the same time a dagger stabbed into him. “Embrace!" she hissed. A terrible warmth issued forth from Mathus' wound, thinking it first blood till he felt cold seeping from his left hand. Pain erupted, as if he was trying to force in his body a second skeleton. He groaned, but his feet remained rooted to the ground as the darkness around them slowly faded. Till he saw Karniel, just the lines of his face in the dark.

Karniel, then Ptero. Mathus saw through the eyes of Dea as she looked at her love. She glanced at a monitor and said, “It is simplest to say, it thinks of us as a tumor, and intends to eradicate us."

“Does that mean we are part of a body of something greater?"

“Perhaps? Perhaps we are simply too small to make ourselves gods."

“You mean, you and the rest of the council are the reason—"

The memory cut off as Mathus collapsed. He fell backward, carrying a protesting Mekrek off the stool. Karniel moved quick enough to catch them both.

“Mathus!"

Mekrek squealed in rage when Mathus turned his head and vomited on her illustrious silver hide.

***

The daggers left no wound. They did not even harm the clothes they wore. After Mathus'… incident, all three were escorted back to Basphemen's now almost completely decayed tower. The tunnel they arrived from now smelled of undergrowth rotting in a winter thaw.

Cathka slipped off Srek's worm last. Ahead of her, Karniel and Mathus walked hand in hand, four other kobolds leading the way with Galba.

I'm sorry, sister.

“There's nothing to be sorry about," Cathka muttered to her brother. Karniel's ear twitched backwards to her—he'd heard her, but did not stop. Her hooves echoed in the tunnel as she trotted to catch up. The hippogryph could not wait to walk on anything other than soft stone and silk rugs again. She never thought she'd miss something simple as grass so much.

Calth said to her, You should talk to them.

About what? There were so many other things to worry about. She did not need to let the sting of being an odd third get in the way of focusing on what actually mattered. Still…

She had taken for granted how comforting sharing a bed with Mathus had been. Then Karniel returned and she spent her nights alone. She had no right to be jealous of either of them, but asking to join them both also seemed wrong. Even now they each only had eyes for each other.

Cathka supposed, given their ordeal, she would feel the same, but it begged the question: how did she fit in with this pair? And why should she stay with them when it was clear she would always be an other? Never the one held or center of attention. She felt silly to have this pain pinched in her chest. Of course she'd stay with the two—between Mathus' conduit and Karniel's millennia of knowledge, they were still her best chance at freeing her brother from his steel prison.

They did not cross the length of the tunnel, but stopped halfway inside it. “This will do," Srek announced. The kobolds arrayed themselves in a circle and Srek waved at the trio, “Stand in the center and we will take care of everything."

As Cathka and Karniel moved into the circle, Mathus went to Srek and hugged the kobold tight. He squeaked then purred as Mathus scratched behind his horns. While he exchanged goodbyes with him and Galba, Karniel whispered to her, “You have been upset all day."

Cathka hugged her arms over her chest. “This place has been wearing on me, is all."

“Mmm, we will have much to discuss once we are out of here, I suppose."

“How are you feeling?" Cathka asked to quickly change the subject.

“Not much different than when I woke."

“All that magic and all you've got from it is a way to die. It would at least be helpful if it could lead you to Mathus. What if you two get separated?"

“That won't happen again."

Cathka frowned.

“You don't believe me?"

“You still have a great deal of enemies on the surface."

“Mathus and I can face them together."

“And me?" The words slipped from Cathka like an accusation.

“Ah, that is what's been bothering you." Karniel sighed. Srek stood with Galba and Mathus, talking animatedly about visiting the surface. Those three were getting distracted, but Cathka did not mind. “You know that promise you made about serving me? You don't need to keep it. Mathus and I understand if—"

“Idiot. Have you ever considered I want to travel with you?" Cathka said it so loudly it caught Mathus' attention.

He asked, “Everything okay?"

“It's fine."

Well now they know it's not.

Cathka wanted to throw her brother down the other side of the tunnel.

She didn't because Karniel grabbed her elbow. “Cathka and I need to talk, darling. Finish your goodbyes, we'll be back soon."

The two walked further down the tunnel. The glowing silk on the ceiling thinned to wisps that provided little more than starlight. They were only about a dozen paces from where they arrived in Pterodea when Karniel stopped.

Cathka asked, “What is there to say?"

“I don't know, Cathka, but clearly you have something you need to get off your chest." She sighed and turned her back on him, taking a few steps away. Her wings hugged her shoulders, tail wrapped around her legs. “I promise to keep what you say between us," Karniel added. “You can trust me, Cathka."

“That is the problem," she said with a ragged sigh. “I do trust you both. As much as I'd trust Calth if he weren't trapped in this fucking sword."

Wait? Why would you trust me less just because—

“We both know being trapped as a conduit muddles your judgement," Cathka whispered.

I resent that, but fair.

Karniel said, “You know Mathus and I care very much—"

“It was painful," Cathka interrupted, “hearing you two up there at the altar. I know I should be happy for you both, but it just reminded how far away I am from you, from him."

“You have feelings for us, both then."

“Is it any surprise? I finally came around to see what you saw in him and you, well, you're you."

She could practically hear Karniel preen at that. He cleared his throat as if to shake it off and said, “You have excellent taste. Of that there is no doubt."

“And I am jealous," Cathka finally admitted. She took a deep breath and faced him, “And I'm afraid you both won't care about me now that you're finally reunited."

In the dim light, she only caught the trace of his frown. He touched his chest and said, “I can't guarantee you that I'd be able to say the same to you that I said to Mathus today. Frankly, I surprised myself, but we are friends, Cathka, and companions. Equals, you and I, and your feelings matter to me."

Cathka's wings relaxed a little. “Mathus has really gotten to you, hasn't he?"

“Quite. Imagine, love changing a person."

“Karniel calling someone their equal, now I'm certain I've heard everything."

Karniel took a step towards her. “Stick around and you'll certainly hear more."

His voice, deep and friendly and flirtatious, made her chest flutter. She hated not being able to keep her cool around him. When he bridged the gap between them and grabbed her hand, she gasped. When he raised it and kissed her knuckles, the graze of his fangs made her shudder.

“You do matter to us both," Karniel whispered. “If doubts ever haunt you, simply ask us to banish them and we will."

“You… you…"

Karniel winked. “We ought to be getting back, shouldn't we?"

“Err… right. Yes, of course," Cathka said. Heart thumping, she let Karniel lead her by the hand back down the tunnel. It was such a minor gesture, but his touch did assuage any doubts. The Pact of Binding would ensure Mathus was Karniel's, and Karniel was Mathus', but it did not mean there was not space in their lives or hearts for her, and that was all she asked.

“You two alright?" Mathus asked as they rejoined him in the circle of kobolds.

Cathka answered by hugging him tight. Mathus laughed a little and patted her back, gasping when she nipped his throat with her beak. An affectionate little bite. “More later," she said.

“We've delayed quite long enough," Karniel added. “Srek, if you would do us the pleasure of getting us out of this gods forsaken place."

“Hope to never see you again, Scourge," Galba said.

“Believe me, dear, I could spend an eternity from here and not miss it."

As the kobolds began weaving their spell, something occurred to Cathka. She asked as glowing glyphs surrounded them, “Karniel, how were you exiled the first time? Magic wouldn't have worked, surely."

“No, teleportation magic typically doesn't agree with me. I get spat up somewhere halfway between where I am meant to be," Karniel said. “Last time they simply had a worm dig me a way out. Took a week of vertical travel just to reach the surface."

“Gods, how far down are we?" Mathus asked.

“Oh, far enough that Pterodeans will never need to worry about some hapless miner stumbling on one of their tunnels," Karniel said.

“I hope the sun is out when we get back," Cathka said as multicolored lights now swirled around them. “I miss feeling it on my feathers."

That makes two of us, Calth said.

The lights consumed them. Cathka's stomach lurched, and with a pop and flash they appeared in a clearing of aspen trees. It was nighttime, the moon nearly full, its pale light a mirror on the cloudy white trunks surrounding them. The air smelled oxidized as if the spot had been struck by a bolt of lightning, but a breeze quickly carried it away.

“We did it," Mathus whispered. He fell to his knees and touched the grass at his feet. “We made it out."

“Never a doubt in my mind, really," Karniel said. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and said, “Sorry it's not sunny."

“It's fine," Cathka said. She unsheathed Calth and tossed him to the edge of the clearing. Touching her necklace, she signed a glyph and turned to Karniel, tapping his chest. His clothes burned away in a shower of sparks, and before he protested she grabbed a handful of his thick chest fur. “I can think of something else that can keep me warm."

***

Rain pounded the timber walls of the herbalist's hut. Korlyon stood in the doorway, dripping with water. An old warthog bent with age looked up from his table. “Can I help you?"

“I am looking for someone," Korlyon said.

“Mmm, you Faceless always are."

Korlyon ignored the comment. He wore his facemask with the rest of his armor. Mortel held much more sway in the southern continent, and folks treated Korlyon with an amount of respect that made his journey easier.

“I have coin. Your Alderman said you can do some scrying."

The warthog grabbed a pair of spectacles and stood, donning them. He saw the tooth Korlyon offered in his hand.

“You have their tooth?"

“This monster is better off without it."

“Alright, um, I will make us some tea—"

“I'm in a hurry," Korlyon said, forcing the tooth into the warthog's hand.

“Alright, don't get your tusks in a knot." He went to an old bookshelf stuffed with knickknacks and retrieved a bowl made of polished wood. He dropped the tooth inside, then a small chunk of rose quartz. He moved the bowl in a continuous clockwise motion, tooth and crystal bouncing off each other. As they rattled around, he signed a glyph with his free hand.

A pink smoke wafted from the bowl, smelling of cinnamon. The herbalist took a deep inhalation of smoke then stopped moving. He sighed and said, “They… no, he is not far from the Emerald Cities. Perhaps a week's travel east of Sepulcher of Dawn."

Korlyon grabbed the tooth, dropped some coin on his table, and was out the door. He untied his horse from a nearby tree, whispering under his breath, “I'm coming, Mathus. If Karniel doesn't have you then, Mortel help him, I'll finish what I started with him." He took the road south, undaunted by the rain, towards Sepulcher of Dawn.

***

Mortel's largest temple rested at the heart of Sepulcher of Dawn. A great, open aired structure with a statue of the nine-tailed fox at its center. At the feet of this statue of marble rested the entrance to his tomb, guarded day and night by select members of the Order of the Faceless. Inside the tomb, down a long hall fixed with magical artifacts the mage-god collected in his life, was the crystal coffin where they put his remains to rest. No more than the ashes Karniel left in the wake of his murderous rampage.

An altar at the coffin's foot, made of silver with a small golden statue of Mortel, glowed. Milky white light encased the statue, and it began to move. Another, older nine-tailed fox with a retinue of Faceless priests approached the altar, as if they had been waiting for this moment.

The fox bowed at the altar till the statue spoke, “Rise, my son. The time for your redemption has come."