FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

*****

Golden doors creaked softly as they were pushed open. Large, imposing and engraved with the holy symbols of the Church of the Tower, the doors required four fully armoured Custodia Deos to move them. What they revealed beyond was a surreal world and the creation of a single man - Ozymandias Kalnarth.

The Valorous Seer stood at the centre of a dais suspended in the middle of a lake of silvery liquid. A single path led from his dais to the doors, a long stretch of gold and black metal decorated by the Church and flanked by statues of Paladins and Templars, past, present and future. Each of the silver statues was surprisingly lifelike and the only break in their silver features were the golden devices they held - their Valours.

Harm Chronos strode purposefully down the path with a tightly sealed case in his right paw and a cooler in the other. His footsteps echoed amidst the gentle trickling of the silvery liquid funnelling in from the various pipes of the impressive structure. Natural lighting streaming in from stained glass windows danced across his snow-white fur.

A gentle smile touched the Wulfun's muzzle. On the dais, Ozymandias was his usual 'inspired' self. The long strands of ragged hair and poorly kept beard made the Seer appear like a madman. Many would argue that true genius is often considered insanity but in this particular 'genius' case, the line was blurred even more so. Bottles of emptied beer lay across the dais, piled on the outer extremities of the dais but with some force preventing it from falling into the lake of silver. At the very centre was a small podium which Ozymandias continuously circled. Occasionally, he would reach out and touch the slab of silver stood on it. Some unspoken command crossed between them and the silver would reshape itself.

A wing took shape...

Then...

"No, no, no, no!"

Ozymandias swiped at the half-complete statue with his hand and the silver leapt away, fearful of its master. The statue dissolved, springing away from the podium and landing in the lake.

"I cannot focus under these conditions!" the man screeched, holding his head in his hands, untrimmed nails digging into his skull. "What do you want, wolf!? Your presence drains my creativity!"

Harm just maintained his smile. "I've come with a delivery." He held up the case, dropping the cooler and slowly opened it. Inside writhed a pulsating pair of semi-organic, mechanical wings. Even without looking at it, Harm remembered the Sin all too well. It had not been so long ago that he had ripped it from a Fallen Paladin's spine.

"Feh!" The Seer waved him off with disgust. "I care not for your sinful trinkets! Take it away! My inspiration and muse take me elsewhere!"

Harm shut the case and opened the cooler. "Perhaps this will help?" He held up two bottles of chilled beer, clinking them together tauntingly.

Ozymandias' bloodshot, brown eyes widened and he immediately abandoned his post. A snarl curled his lips as he held out his hands. Harm deposited the beer in the man's grasp. Without wasting a moment, the Seer eagerly drank the amber fluid. Strangely, his eyes obtained a sense of clarity sobriety could never offer.

"What do you want, Chronomancer?"

Shrugging, Harm kicked the case filled with the Sin across to the Seer. "Just for you to do your job. Create a statue of the Fallen that possessed this Sin, implant the Sin inside so that it will forever be locked and it may never be a threat to the world."

The Seer threw his head back, letting out a bitter laugh and a gale of rotten, alcoholic breath. "You honestly believe that it is safe here? My Valour, Lucidity, is still a Valour, Chronos. I am susceptible to corruption just as much as anyone else."

Waving his arms around at the entire building, Harm said, "You would never fall to corruption. You're given everything you want right here. The Church relies on you to find its Valours and their Paladins. They also need you to keep Sins locked up. You are the very heart of the Church of the Tower. And you love it."

Ozymandias laughed and turned his back to Harm, striding back to his podium. "I may be the heart but it is Lumire that forms the head and controls the body." His voice grew dark. "The Paladins are the Church's right hand. The Templars the blade it wields against the evils of the world and the Inquisition the blood that cleanses itself. And you... You Harm Chronos..." His eyes darted over his shoulder at the white Wulfun. "You are its left hand."

"I wonder..." Harm began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Is the Church right handed or left handed?"

Again, the artist laughed and waved his hands. Streams of liquid silver came springing from the pools around him, pouring itself onto the podium and forming a vague cube shape. "I will keep Snowfall safe. No one shall ever set sight upon it again once I am done."

Harm raised his eyebrows. "Snowfall, huh? Funny, Turquon never activated it when I fought him."

"Perhaps that says something then. Perhaps it does not." Ozymandias began waving his hands and the statue began to take shape. "Now leave me, my inspiration takes me far from Paladins, Templars, Fallen and their Valours or Sins."

Smiling, Harm inclined his head to the side, folding one ear and saying, "And where does -" He cut himself off as the statue took on the shape of a proud armoured figure. A creature with four, feathered wings and four arms. One set of arms was closely crossed against the creature's broad, muscular chest while the other held a sword in front of it, embedded into the ground. Writing was engraved into the flat side of the broad blade. "Who is that? I've never seen an Avios quite like it?"

Ozymandias let out a howl of anguish and swiped his hands at the statue once more, sending it sprawling back into the pools of liquid. "That is what is so maddening! I do not know! Whoever it is, has no Valour! There is no logical place to place it! But for the past few weeks, he has been plaguing my mind over and over again!" Ozymandias drained his bottle and threw it aside, sending the bottle crashing amongst the pile of others that sat at the limits of his dais. He stormed over to Harm and reached down for another bottle. "There was only one other time that I was plagued like this..."

When the Seer's eyes lifted, they were clear, piercing and accusing. "And that was the day you came to us, Harm Chronos. A traitor to the Chronomancers and our saviour."

Unperturbed, Harm just smiled pleasantly and said, "Imagine that."

The Wulfun spun on his heel, white scarf brushing against Ozymandias' face. As he strode back towards the golden doors, the Seer shouted, "Mark my words, Chronos! This figure will change the very history of Tower Thirteen! Heed my warning! Left hand, draw your blade!"

The golden doors sprang open and as he passed through, he waved his right hand over his shoulder at the Seer. "For future reference... " He threw a mischievous grin over his shoulder. "... I'm right handed."

The doors shut with a deafening slam.

Letting out a soft sigh, Harm thanked the Custodia Deos that flanked him and they saluted him in return, uttering, 'my lord' as they did so. He quickly bolted down the steps away from Lucidity, perhaps one of the largest Valours in existence. The crisp, clean air of Haven, the 13th Station of Tower Thirteen and Station of the Crystal, wafted into his nostrils.

He could not help but feel a certain sense of vertigo as he stood upon the edge of the floating Valour-structure. The entire Station unfurled in front of him, a venerable floating metropolis - a single nation as a single city. Stretching on for miles and miles, hovering structures suspended only by magic and intricate machinery formed the bulk of Station. Streams of liquid connected each little 'island', constantly shifting and readjusting themselves as the structures moved through the clear, blue skies. Pods containing commuters would shoot through each stream while small vehicles zoomed through the wild traffic of the skies. Far, far, far below them was the actual landmass of the Station. Like every other structure on the world, it was made of glistening crystal and gold, shining like diamond.

Smiling, Harm took in the sight of the enormous nation. Countless artificial islands made of the same crystal and gold glided through the air lazily, a glorious source of all light for the Station hung above them. The dazzling blue-green face of the Crystallus Animus gave off the brilliant white light that bathed the entire Station. His eyes traced the craggy face of the enormous, crystal orb that branched off into thirteen different spires, twelve vanishing off into the distance while the thirteen drove straight into Haven's earth; the crystal tower of Chrysalis. The gargantuan tower of blue-green mineral was a dazzling edifice that just melded into the rest of the Station.

At the base of the tower were countless streams of those watery paths that curled and twisted towards a large structure just hovering over the ground. A magical set of golden train tracks left the structure and curled around Chrysalis, disappearing into the hub which was Crystallus Animus. A black and gold train blew its horn as it left the Station.

Harm took a deep breath and spread his arms wide out on either side of him. Slowly, he turned his back to the precarious edge. With that smile still on his muzzle, he let himself dip backwards and teeter on the edge. A powerful gale blew, pushing off the edge as if the universe was just telling him to 'get on with it'. Still smiling, he let himself fall, eyes closed as he let the whipping winds crash against his fur.

"Time waits for no man," he whispered to himself.

Harm Chronos opened his eyes with a snap and spun around. A deafening roar of a speeding Sky Skimmer hit his ears and with a practiced paw, he seized one of its crystal wings and threw himself onto its broad, aerodynamic frame. The arrow-shaped private vehicle streamed through the air, propelled by ion engines and guided by frames of greenish wings. Its white, metallic frame was alight with lights and paints. The driver in the cockpit shook a fist at the Wulfun while the children in the back seat pointed and laughed, waving at him excitedly.

He waved back.

Then he hurled himself off the Sky Skimmer, landing deftly on another with a light thunk. Grinning broadly, he threw a gaze down at the ground far below him. The insignia of the Church of the Tower met him. Artfully designed buildings and building planning ensured that the multiple gardens and roads all made the incredible sight. At the very centre of the insignia was the grandest structure in all of Haven - the Cathedral of the Prophet.

Harm jumped off the Skimmer and felt the cold embrace of one of the watery tunnels. The roar and business of the city was drowned instantly in the silence of the tunnels. Lights flashed in front of his eyes. An egg-shaped pod came screaming towards him carrying several passengers who were all too unaware of his presence. He swerved away from the automated pod and seized a handle on its side as it zoomed through.

Breath held, he peered through the watery world at the beautiful, lush forests far beneath him. Smaller cathedrals designated for each of the other Stations surrounded the Cathedral of the Prophet, each one several kilometres long and only hinting at the size of the Propheticus Primoris' residence.

Suddenly, there was a loud splash and the noise of the city hit his ears once more. The Wulfun was hurled out of the watery tunnel as the pod was captured by a specialised anti-gravity field. He rolled onto the white metal floors of another artificial island. The momentum carried him back to his feet and he used it to bolt across the island. Even the energy fields designed to keep bystanders from falling to their deaths could not stop him as he easily leapt over them.

He tucked his body into a tight roll through the air before spreading his arms wide as he caught himself on the hull of an enormous Sky Cruiser. The countless people idly reading the morning holonews on their personalised holopads paid him no heed. Just like the Skimmer, the gargantuan marvel of science and magic was streamlined and built for ease of travel through the air of crystal wings. Harm raced across the whale-like ship and leapt off the tail, feeling a tingle on his fur at the touch of the ion engines that dried the last droplets of water that still stubbornly clung to his flesh.

Water engulfed him again as he dove into another stream. He wasted no time waiting for another pod and leapt out almost immediately, letting himself free fall towards the Cathedral of the Prophet. Sky Skimmers and Cruisers thinned as he drew closer to the Cathedral. The roar of busy streets and zooming vehicles died in favour of church bells and hymns. Birds twittered in his ear and gave startled squawks as he fell past their midst. A cloud formation obscured his view for a moment. He quickly shot through it, leaving droplets of water in his fur and clothes.

The Wulfun turned himself right-side up and -

Clang!

Struck the very top spire of the Cathedral of the Prophet, his legs ringing from the impact. Grinning, he leapt down from the spire, dancing over statues of angels and arches nimbly. He swung under one arch and landed on a ledge just above where two Custodia Deos were discussing their day and the terrible lunch one had. The Wulfun bolted along the edge and hurled himself from the tallest tower to the second tallest, catching himself on a windowsill. With all his strength, he pulled himself up to the window.

Brushing down his short, spikey hair and brushing off trails of water from his clothes, he knocked on the window with a fist.

The window swung open - inwards thankfully.

The incredibly annoyed features of the Propheticus Primoris, the head of the Church of the Tower and spiritual leader of all of Tower Thirteen regarded him. Lumire's hand lashed out and seized his collar.

"Get in here!"

Harm gave a yelp as he was hurled into Lumire's office and seated forcibly in a cushiony chair. Lumire gave a heavy huff and combed down his slicked back, golden-blonde hair. His blue eyes shone with a mix of brotherly love and fatherly annoyance. His perfectly tanned skin was only broken by the brutal two gashes on his right cheek.

"How did you get here so fast?" Lumire asked, adjusting the black tie he wore.

"I fell," Harm answered with a hint of pride.

"How many crashes did you cause this time?"

"You know what? I have no idea."

Lumire sighed heavily and donned the ceremonial gold and white robes of his office. Then he picked up the scarf that was adorned with gems - one for each Station of Tower Thirteen. "That doesn't make me feel any better, Harm."

"I didn't hear any explosions. Does that help?"

"Hardly." The Propheticus Primoris regarded him with an expression caught between irritation and affection. "You know, it becomes harder and harder every day to appoint you head of the new Chronomancer's order."

Harm instantly went rigid, losing his mirth and smile in one moment. "I might still be a little waterlogged. Did you just say 'new Chronomancer's order'?"

"I did," came the calm answer though Lumire was clearly enjoying seeing his adopted brother in such discomfort. "It has been over one and a half thousand years since the Purge of Time, Harm. I think it is time that stop being racist, lift the taboo on Time Magic and restart one of the greatest organisation this entire world has ever had with someone who, while admittedly is incredibly reckless, has a heart of gold."

"Having a heart of gold would make it very hard to live," Harm corrected, still holding humour in his voice. "Last I checked, a heart has to be beating for someone to be alive." He stood from his seat. "Resurrecting the Chronomancers is a bad idea, Lumire. They grew arrogant. They were ageless and powerful enough to wage war on all of Tower Thirteen. There were barely ten thousand active Chronomancers in that war. Ten thousand against about ten billion people. Yet they stood their ground and almost won."

Lumire reached for his ceremonial sword and pointed it - still in its jewel encrusted sheath - at Harm. "Yes but they lost because of you."

"A traitor."

"A hero," answered his brother. "You had the courage and the heart to stand up against your own people. You gave the Church the weapons it needed to fight the Chronomancers and you stood on the front lines against your own people because you saw a great injustice. I can think of no one better to head the new order than you."

Harm let out a frustrated half-sigh, half-growl and shook his head. "Lumire..."

"Rest assured, this is not a decision to be made today," Lumire said, holding up his hand. "Goddess knows, after countless centuries of service, I will need a year to collate all the records of your service to the Church to convince the people you will guide the new order with an even, just and faithful hand."

A sigh of relief escaped Harm. "You just came up with this idea, didn't you?"

Lumire sat on the edge of his table and gave his brother a casual shrug. "After this so called 'False Winter', it has occurred to me that you are one man... wolf... man-wolf. What isn't an insulting racial slur to Wulfuns?"

The Chronomancer waved the comment away. "Nothing. Anything is always a racial slur to someone these days. I stopped keeping up a while ago. Just like I stopped reading the news." He locked gazes with Lumire. "What makes you think I can't handle all the missions you assign me?"

"The missions I assign you I have no doubt you can handle," answered the Propheticus Primoris. "But look at this..." He reached towards his desk where a stack of papers lay. "General Matricus of Nite is requesting assistance with an insurgency around a device that is being called the 'Dreamstalker.'"

Harm's frown deepened. "That sounds important. I should -"

"And then there is this one," Lumire interrupted, picking up another note. "Alchemists of Arret just discovered something they call the 'Philosopher's Stone' which apparently involves severing the testicles of a philosopher, casting some magic on it and then forcing it to go under immense pressure until it is crystallised. Apparently it has the properties to create an immortality elixir."

Harm's eyebrows rose. "I'd say so. Drinking something that is produced from the crystallised balls of a philosopher would definitely warrant immortality."

"Yeah that sounds like a prank to me..." Lumire said, tossing aside the paper. "Fact is, you are one ageless, slightly insane Chronomancer, Harm. You spend all your days running from Station to Station, teaching where you can but then having to dash off to save the world over and over again. You never have time to yourself."

Shaking his head, Harm said, "Lumire, you've got the Templars and Inquisition. Send them to deal with these problems. Also, you know with my Chronomancy, I can be in multiple places at once. Just give me the list and I'll be teaching in one Station and saving another easily enough."

The Propheticus Primoris leapt to his feet and struck his table with his palm. "That is not the point, Harm. Tower Thirteen is not for you to save. You've done it over and over again and it is time you appreciated the fruits of your labour. The Stations are becoming far too reliant on your intervention that they can barely hold themselves up without you.

"No. You are going to impart your knowledge onto others like you. You are going to train new Chronomancers and you are going to lead by example."

Harm crossed his arms and gave his brother a cocky smile. "You really want a thousand versions of me running around freely?"

There was a moment of doubt in Lumire's face before he shook the thought away. "I have made up my mind, Harm. It is time you enjoyed Tower Thirteen."

The Wulfun saw... something in his brother's words. "Lumire... Why should I start enjoying Tower Thirteen?"

A pause.

"Because a great change is going to come, Harm. Soon, I'm going to bring about a change that will make Tower Thirteen a better place. Too long I'm sat on my throne keeping a dying world from passing into the afterlife. We are fighting a battle and constantly caught in a stalemate. It is time we changed that and won the war."

"You want to eliminate the demons?"

"More." Lumire's eyes were afire with passion. "Much more."

Harm's lips made to ask the question but he held his tongue. "That's for the future. What of today?"

There, Lumire's broad smile returned and he said, "Today, we take the first step towards a better world. Today, I introduce you to the world as my brother!"

Again, the Wulfun gave Lumire a sour expression. "You're just obsessed with making my life hell today, aren't you? Is this because I embarrassed Leandros by pinning him with a chandelier?"

"Don't be absurd," Lumire said, waving away Harm's comment. "I can't just spring the revelation that not only has the Church been harbouring a Chronomancer for centuries but that same Chronomancer is related to me and going to start a new Chronomancer order in one blow. We must ease the people into that revelation."

Lumire turned towards Harm with a bright smile. "Today, during court, I will introduce you."

Rolling his eyes, Harm said, "This is one of those things were we step through a door one by one and the herald shouts out lengthy, redundant titles in our ears, right?"

"Be glad you don't have my title."

"Or Lord Murkonschowitz, Lord of the lands of Alltorwurtz, Liege Lord of the Houses Calmordanamus Bulfarmogartz, Eldardaholis and -"

"I know, I know," Lumire interrupted, holding up his hands. "Trust me, I know."

Harm winced loudly. "What will you say though? 'Lord Harm Chronos, brother to the Propheticus Primoris'?"

Tapping his chin, his brother said, "What better way to introduce you?"

"Seems a little short compared to everyone else, doesn't it?" Harm held up his right paw. "I mean, it's like introducing Lord Murkonschowitz one moment... and then Bob." He dropped his paw for emphasis.

"What would you suggest then?"

Trying to keep the devious look from his features, Harm just said, "Tell you what. Let's make a deal. I'll come to court but only if you let me write my own introduction."

Pleased with that outcome, Lumire held out his hand. "Deal!"

*****

The Tower Express was the only form of public transport that could traverse the dangers of the Void and transport people from one Station of Tower Thirteen to another. The gold and black train zoomed on magical tracks as it sailed through the reddish-black nebulae of the Void. Storms roiled outside of its windows while its interior was cold, hard and unwelcoming.

Still, through it all, Harm Chronos just smiled as he leaned against the windows, watching the approaching landmass - the 1st Station of Tower Thirteen and the Station of the Sun.

Across the compartment form him sat Templar Aria Valkyrie. Her piercing, amethyst eyes held irritation but at the same time, the faint semblance of amusement.

"Banishment," she stated, her voice musical even though it dripped with frustration. "Certainly a creative way of returning to Incendius."

"I didn't choose the punishment," Harm answered with a shrug. "I just suggested it."

She shook her head, rubbing her temples with one hand. Platinum-blonde hair fell across her shoulders like a white waterfall. "Honestly... What could have possessed you to introduce yourself as 'Ultra-King McAwesome Pants, Lord Captain of the Trash Heap outside 23rd Street, Master of Bankrupt Leprechauns, Unicorns with More-than-One-Horn, Cripplingly Obese Manatees and 44th Hotdog Eating Competition Though-not-the-hotdogs-you're-thinking-of?'"

The Chronomancer tore his gaze aware from the Angel, the smile on his face without humour. He uttered one word that sent a chill down her spine. "Bloodfyre."

Aria Valkyrie's eyes went wide for the briefest of moments and she straightened. "Impossible."

"When I was visiting Ozymandias to drop off Snowfall, he was making something. He was frustrated and it looked like he was in the process of restarting for the thousandth time. He created the image of an Avios with four wings and four arms."

Aria - an Angel of the House Valkyrie - shook her head in confusion. "I do not remember such a creature."

Angels were an all-female race and they possessed the unique trait to pass on their memories from mother to daughter by means of ritual sacrifice. Ageless and seen as the guardians of mankind, Angels lived alongside humans to form the Church of the Tower. Any who mated with an Angel always gave birth to another Angel. The oldest of the Angelic Houses were renowned for having the lowest numbers but the wisest of members.

Valkyrie was a well-known house.

"I don't either," Harm answered. "But what worried me is the blade that he wielded. It was a sword inset with five gems arranged in a pentagonal form and on the blade itself was writing."

"What did it say?"

Offering a wry smile, he said, "'The breath of a Red, the essence of a Blue, Extract from a Green and the heart of a Gold. A bar of Red Adamantine forged to hold earth. A bite of Barlacite to seize the flame. Gold to hold the cold at bay and malachite to stem greed. Forged from the blood of the world itself and infused with Stones of Eternal Fire. Cooled in the blood of a Demon and washed in an Angel's tears. Thus the blade... Bloodfyre.'"

It was seldom that Harm had ever seen Aria unnerved. In over a millennium since they had known each other, Aria had maintained stoic features the majority of her life but only very rarely broke that mask to mock Harm or put on an air of pleasantry for nobility. Now that her features filled with worry and her eyes gazed off into the distance, Harm was worried himself.

"What do you know of the blade?" he asked.

"It is legendary," came the short answer. "Tell me first, what do you know of the Incendian creation myth?"

Harm leaned back in the cold seats of the Tower Express and let out a soft sigh, his breath condensing in front of his muzzle. The roiling, gaseous world of the Void quickly gave way to clean, crisp, blue skies as they entered the atmosphere of the Station of the Sun. To their left, the face of the crystal edifice that kept all fragments of Tower Thirteen connected - Chrysalis - zoomed by.

"After the Sundering shattered the once-whole world into what is now Tower Thirteen and the Mother Goddess Athena created Chrysalis to bind the segments of world together so mortals would not be separated entirely, Incendius was plunged into a war with darkness. A foul, evil race known as the Darkened streamed from the southern reaches of Incendius, beyond the Southern Frostenlands. They attacked the mortals of Incendius and were nigh on unstoppable.

"In desperation, mortals sacrificed their men and turned them into hybrids of immense strength, binding Wulfun blood with man. They became the Custodia Lupus, the Werewolves of the Sun. Capable of braving the icy wastes of the Southern Frostenlands and with their flesh resistant to the corrupting touch of the Darkened, they made perfect shock troops. For those already infected, man bound Batrian and human blood to make the Custodia Vampiri. Masters of Light Magic and capable of sucking the corruption from the bodies of the infected, they made the support troops for the armies."

"Their numbers were scarce, however," Aria continued. "The process created the Progenitors of the two races, their most powerful. Leandros von Lupus and Phalygmr du'Vampiri led their people into war but lost despite their advantages. Numbers were not on their side. However, from the pits of darkness rose a farmer who had lost his wife and daughter to the war. He brought Fire Magic to the world of Incendius, travelling to what is now the capital of Incendius - Corona - and rallied the people beneath his banner.

"He claimed to have been touched by the Sun Goddess Apollia and showed them a fiery blade that burned endlessly. A sword that held the power to lay waste to swathes of Darkened and pushed the shadows back. This sword... This sword was Bloodfyre."

Their gazes locked knowingly as Aria continued her tale. "Bloodfyre was lost when the Brave Farmer took his armies to the heart of the Darkened civilisation and summoned the Sun Goddess from the heavens to deal a blow that crippled the Darkened. While he lost his life, the Sun Goddess had come to Incendius and built the Sun Spire where she now sits to grant light to all of Incendius. The blade was thought to have been shattered during the battle. Over the centuries, countless treasure seekers, historians and fortune finders have sought the blade, braving the Grey Marches and the lands of the Darkened in search for the blade. Not many return."

Harm leaned forward, keeping his gaze fixated on Aria's amethyst eyes. "But you and I both know that while Ozymandias is a wild, abusive drunkard and pays little thought to his own 'prophecies', everything he sculpts has meaning. He made Bloodfyre."

"Are you sure it was the blade? Are you sure the writing was as you stated?" The worry in her eyes edged upon desperation. "Harm, Bloodfyre is a mighty weapon. Anything from that age is considered dangerous and unstoppable."

"It was the sword," he answered, shaking his head. "That's why I wanted to go to Incendius again. Also why I wanted to be 'banished' here. I didn't want Lumire worrying about this. If he got an inkling about my true purpose here, he'd send armies to overturn this world looking for the sword."

The Tower Express shuddered slightly as its decent began to flatten out. Aria peered out the window at the immense white tower that jutted out from a mountain not too far from where they entered Incendius. A dazzling light emitted from the tower, strong enough to bask most of the Station in its light.

"An inquest of that volume would upset the delicate balance of this world," she said. "The people are still reeling from the events of the False Winter. There is no need to worry them more with the possibility that the sword which forged their present could still be lingering in the periphery of their existence."

Harm nodded, clapping his paws against his knees. "Yup. There was also one other thing that convinced me that Bloodfyre is a threat."

Her raised eyebrow was one part worry and the other part curiosity. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"Agares' last words to me. As I slew him, he told me that he would 'claim that which was forged by his own blood' and that Incendius was 'his'." Harm waved absently through the air. "I dismissed it initially as demonic ramble but then I saw that mantra, particularly the last few lines about being 'cooled in the blood of a demon'."

"You think Bloodfyre was forged with Agares' blood?"

The Chronomancer shrugged. "I don't know, Aria." He leaned his cheek against the icy touch of the window, watching the forests of Incendius stream far below as the Tower Express made its way towards Corona. "I honestly do not know."

*****

Corona's dazzling white walls and roads was fittingly designed for a Station so affectionately called the 'Station of the Sun'. A leaf brushed against Harm's cheek quickly joined by a slew of others. The trees lining the roads shook and shuddered against the winds of such a high elevation but still maintained a healthy crown of greenery.

People of all shapes, sizes and races weaved past him, hurrying to fulfil their own errands. All of them were dressed in the typical Incendian fashion. Leather jerkins, simply designed cloth shirts and pants, robes of various designs and only occasionally a flash of inspiration from one of the upper Stations. Despite being dressed so strangely, no one paid Harm any mind.

His golden eyes trailed up the gently sloping path of the city. All roads eventually led to the Sun Spire. The immense tower that jutted out from the very rear of the city provided light to all the Station thanks to the shining light at its very tip. Some great magic gave the light and similarly, some great magic regulated the light so that it did not burn or blind anyone living in the city. Even the ice caps of the mountain where Corona was housed remained untouched by the searing light.

"The marvels of the modern age," he whispered softly. For a brief moment, he had a quick flash of the statue that Ozymandias has created. "And the mysteries of an age gone by..."

Step by step, he strode through the city, taking in all the sights as he had done so often before. It had only been a short while since he had last visited Corona and he was filled with a strange mixture of dread and nostalgia that he had the opportunity to take in its beauty once more.

The better party of the day passed before he finally arrived at the gates of the Sacred Sector. Like every Station of Tower Thirteen, Incendius trained and dressed its army in armour befitting its Station. The Custodia Solis patrolled the Sector, dressed from head to toe in thick, bright red armour trimmed with gold. In one hand they held a fiery tower shield inscribed with holy prayers and the insignia of Incendius - a fiery sun with a single vertical stroke down its centre. Amongst the Custodia Solis was their Clericus counterparts. The Clericus Solis or better known as the 'Pyromancers' milled about the gardens of the sector, reading, praying or teaching the students they so lovingly guided.

Despite all the Church's secrets, Harm could not deny that without it, Incendius would be plunged into a dark age. Bit by bit, Haven was filtering its technologies into the other Stations, elevating them all to the same level of enlightenment to form a united Tower Thirteen. He recalled that gunpowder had just been introduced to Incendius. The soft crack-boom of multiple flintlock rifles echoing in the far training grounds was evidence to that. Many diplomats were impatient for all the technology but even they had to agree such power had to be introduced slowly. A world given a gun without knowing how to use it was just as likely to shoot themselves or a friend as an enemy.

As was fitting of his standing, no one recognised him and merely dismissed him as another Wulfun from the upper Stations coming to visit the Station of the Sun. Custodia Solis ignored him while Clercius merely greeted him pleasantly before moving on. The average worshiper excused themselves from him and gave him a cursory glance before shrugging and turning away.

He was the left hand of the Church. Identity unknown to the world, known to be there but never spoken of.

Harm found a quiet spot in one of the gardens and sat down on the lush grass. The Sun Spire was already starting to dim for the 'night'. Children were being picked up by their parents as their Clericus guardians wrapped up their day's lessons. The guards changed their shifts while the bells of the nearby churches heralded an end to the day.

In that moment, Harm let his mind go blank and forgot about Bloodfyre; just letting the serenity and simplicity of the scene wash away his worries.

It was a fleeting experience, however.

"I thought I smelled you."

The smile on his muzzle grew slightly. "And here I thought I was doing such a good job keeping my arrival a secret."

"I have eyes and ears even here. They learned of your arrival the moment you stepped off that train."

"I'm flattered. Though that honestly makes you a little 'stalker-ish'."

"For that, I am flattered. After all, you know what stalkers target."

Harm's smile grew broader. "Prey."

Lightning-fast, he rolled forward just as icy-blue blades cut through the air where he had been. He quickly sprang to his feet, pushing himself off the ground with his paws and throwing himself into the air. His feet planted themselves on a nearby tree trunk and he launched off a moment later. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out the folded Timekeeper and flipped it open, golden blade glistening in the air.

His golden sword clashed with the daggers of Leandros von Lupus, sending sparks skittering towards the ground as they passed one another. Harm nimbly landed on his feet, spinning around with his blade at the ready.

The towering epitome of Lupus physiology stood in front of him at an intimidating seven and a half feet tall. Large, bulky and brimming with muscle, Leandros wore only a simple black, leather cuirass and similarly designed shorts. A ring of daggers hung around his waist, each pair differently designed. His digitigrade stance made standing on two feet seemingly awkward and his hunched figure indicated he was more comfortable on all fours. However, his size and stance belied a frightening speed that often caught his targets off guard.

They grinned at one another and charged, each with different tactics in mind.

Harm threw Timekeeper to the ground, letting the golden chain hanging from his hip stretch out as he dove for Leandros' feet. The chain swung for the Werewolf King's legs. Leandros leapt over the hazard and somersaulted through the air, quickly hurling a dagger at Harm whilst in the air. The Wulfun yanked at the chain, pulling Timekeeper back towards him and seizing it with his free hand. The golden blade arced through the air, knocking Leandros' dagger aside.

Leandros landed without even a thud and pounced on Harm with the agility of a cat. The Chronomancer rolled to his left and raised his sword over his head. Sparks flew as Leandros' daggers slammed against Timekeeper. Harm quickly swung his leg towards his head, catching Leandros' right ear with a quick kick. The pressure keeping him on the ground slackened and he swiped his sword at the werewolf, forcing Leandros back.

Springing to his feet once more, Harm -

Thud!

Both combatants froze.

A wicked, grey scythe lay embedded between them.

"It is unbecoming of two of the most powerful lords in Tower Thirteen to be fighting one another over some petty rivalry."

Their eyes turned towards the hulking, grey-armoured figure that strode towards them. Harm's voice got caught in his throat as he caught sight of the half-man, half-machine High Inquisitor that strode towards them.

The Inquisitor snatched his gun-scythe from the ground and spun it expertly through the air. His armoured hands seemed far too big for his much smaller head. The the power armour that was fused with his body made him look grossly disproportionate. The shining, grey and gold armour made him look like a titan amongst men even without the genetic modifications. Two implants positioned at his temples cast an eerie, red light that curved over his eyes like a visor, displaying information only High Inquisitors were privy to. A book held by a golden chain hung from the Inquisitor's left hip. His right eye showed signs of scarring where before he became a High Inquisitor, his eye had been replaced with a mechanical on. Upon rising, it was returned to him.

"This is none of your business, Killian," Leandros growled. "I answered your questions now if you would kindly let me return to the business at hand."

The High Inquisitor's youthful face broke into a pleasant smile. "Your business involves murdering the recently banished brother of Propheticus Primoris?"

Leandros turned a surprised look towards Harm. "You were banished?"

"Of sorts," Harm answered with a shrug. "Inquisitor, we were merely sparring. It's sort of a tradition between us. Every time I visit this Station, Leandros will make it an effort to track me down and try to get me to beg for mercy. We always end in a draw but he always promises that one day, he will have me begging for mercy."

The Werewolf King sheathed his daggers and straightened, grinning broadly. "And you would always claim that we would laugh before you asked for my mercy." He jerked his chin at Harm. "It is good to see you again, time-bending freak."

"And you too, you half-breed son-of-a-bitch."

High Inquisitor Killian gave a helpless shrug and said, "An odd way to exchange pleasantries but I will not pretend to understand the workings of two men who are much older than I. However..." His eyes lifted to meet Harm's. "It is fortunate that you came here, my lord. There were some questions I would like to ask you concerning the False Winter."

Harm's curiosity was piqued. He folded one ear back and inclined his head to the left. "A High Inquisitor investigating the fall of a Paladin? I would think you would have better things to do than scrutinizing something that happens at least a hundred times per year per Station."

Killian maintained his pleasant smile. "I only go where the Mother Goddess instructs me, my lord. I would like to know more about it if you do not mind."

There was truly no use trying to resist the Inquisition. As a Chronomancer, Harm was under constant fire from Inquisitors. Only very rarely was a High Inquisitor involved as they were predominantly involved in the investigation of high ranking Church officials. Despite his rank, Harm was not considered 'high ranking'. He didn't even officially exist.

"Whenever you are ready, Inquisitor."

*****

The Inquisition was both feared and revered by many across Tower Thirteen. As the 'internal guard', Inquisitors were charged with rooting out sources of corruption within the Church and disposing of them appropriately. Many of the general populace feared them. Stories flew around about family members, friends and loved ones were stolen away in the night by a storm of Grey Knights or the Inquisition's personal guard.

Therefore, it was no surprise to Harm that he now sat in one of the dark, grey rooms that the Inquisition was so fond of using when interrogating their suspects. Every room was designed so that even the furniture was a lifeless grey. When an Inquisitor came in, only their faces were visible in the grey forcing victims to focus entirely on them. A sneaky tactic to be sure but Harm had been in so many of inquests in his life that he merely crossed his arms, laid one leg over the other and leaned back in the chair, waiting for High Inquisitor Killian to begin.

"Are we going to begin?" he asked, keeping a gentle smile on his muzzle. "I don't have all the time in the world, after all."

Killian gave him a pleasant smile. "Soon, my lord. We just have to wait for the others."

A spark of curiosity ignited deep in Harm's mind; not so deep that it did not shake the smile on his muzzle. Remaining silent, he sat waiting. It was not long before the door burst open and in marched three important looking people. Two of them he recognised. The third was a mystery.

Upon seeing them, he let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. "Aria... Did you really have to?"

Beside Aria stood the most powerful man in all of Incendius - at least politically speaking. The Apex Clericus Solis, the High Priest of the Sun and representative of the Church of the Tower in Incendius. Currently, the crown belonged to Raxallian Ki'nerth of the House Ki'nerth. At only twenty-five years of age, Raxallian was the youngest Apex Clericus Solis in history but only because his older brother, Xanos, had refused the crown when their father had died. He looked young, inexperienced and his soft, greenish-gold eyes were filled with awe upon seeing Harm. The Chronomancer felt the prickly of his flesh like when he was about to be pounced upon by a fanboy.

"This matter concerns all of Incendius and from all appearances there have been activities that have already led to the mystery of the blade," answered the Templar. She straightened and nodded towards Killian. "You may tell him."

Killian joined his fingers and said slowly, "Have you heard of Red Adamantine, my lord?"

"Apparently one of the ingredients for Bloodfyre," Harm answered, turning his gaze back towards the Inquisitor. "However if memory serves, it is extremely rare on Incendius these days. The red variety of Adamantine has been discovered to have narcotic properties when ground down into a dust and infused with certain spells. Red Sand, they call it. There is a market for it across the sea in the Sunless Lands and the Church has been trying for years to move all stockpiles of Red Adamantine off Station."

He let out a sinister grin. "Conspiracy theorists believe the Church is trying to use its narcotic properties for their own insidious purposes." Unfolding his arms, the Chronomancer drew a circle on the grey table in front of them with a claw. "Officially, there is only one source of the substance on Incendius." He paused for emphasis. "The Red Crown."

A collective breath was drawn in from everyone in the room save for Harm and the stranger he did not recognise. From the corner of his eye, the Wulfun watched the grey-haired man clutching the diamond-topped cane.

"A reason why we had this meeting called, my lord," Raxallian began, striding forward and crossing the distance between the two parties. He held Harm's hand, shaking his vigorously. "Might I say, firstly, it is a true honour to meet the great Hero of the Purge of Time and the Propheticus' own brother. I grew up on your tales of valour."

Harm leaned back, looking past Raxallian and flashing Aria a broad grin. "Check it out. I've got a fan." He turned back towards Raxallian, giving the Apex Clericus a suspicious stare. "You're not going to kidnap me one day, tie me up and slice me up bit by bit each day just to see my regeneration in action, are you?"

The most powerful man in the Station gave him a startled look. "I beg your pardon?"

"Just something a fanatical fan did one day, my lord," Aria said, waving the comment away. "Killian, you were saying about the Red Crown?"

"Yes," Raxallian chimed in, cutting off the High Inquisitor. "The Red Crown was stolen."

Slowly, Harm released the young leader's hand and set his paw on his lap, quietly pondering the implications of the news. He was only partially listening as the leader of Incendius explained how despite intense security around the artefact, someone managed to sneak past their defences. His eyes were in the distance instead.

A loud smack brought him back to the present but he did not flinch. His ears swivelled to towards the grey table where a black cane now lay quivering. The stranger who owned the cane glared at him.

"Why are we wasting our time with this relic?" the man asked. "He is not even listening!"

"Uncle," Raxallian began, his voice shaky as his eyes darted from Harm to this man. "This is Harm Chronos. We must -"

"I am well aware who he is, Rax." Piercing, icy blue eyes glared at Harm with nothing more than disgust. "He should remember who we are."

Harm maintained his smile as he slowly rose to his feet. At his six foot two with a couple of inches added for his ears, he was taller than the man. Still, whoever this uncle of Raxallian was, he commanded authority over the Apex Clericus Solis. Enough at least to interrupt him. "I'm sorry. We haven't met." He held out his paw. "Harm Chronos. And you are?"

The man slipped his cane away from the table, slapping Harm's paw away with a painful smack. "Intero Velman. Head of House Velman and Velman and Son's Shipping."

Harm resisted the urge to lift his eyebrows. House Velman had a very minor, very distant relationship to House Ki'nerth. Some girl married some boy years ago and the two houses were linked since then. Another dance in the political tango of Incendius that Harm had dismissed when he politely declined the invitation to the wedding as Lumire's plus one. From what he recalled about his initial thoughts concerning the union, it was just a way of House Ki'nerth obtaining more financial backing by having a predominantly merchant-based House join them.

"I have heard of House Velman," Harm said. "You've become quite a shipping power in the last few decades; dominating most of the trade between here and the Sunless Lands. You do not deal with other Stations, however."

"Incendius can and will be self-sufficient," answered Intero tersely. "We do not need the charity of the upper Stations to improve our technology, way of life and whatever other garbage they tell themselves when they sell us goods at inflated prices."

"Naturally."

Intero's cane came rising back up and pressed up against Harm's chest. "Do not patronise me, boy."

"Boy..." Harm chuckled, gripping the cane lightly. He gave it a light tug. The thin, wooden sheathe of the cane split from its hidden blade, the white metal glistening in the scant light of the interrogation room. Killian was instantly at his feet and Aria was sweeping her arms back, ready for a spell. Harm lifted his free paw, signalling they halt. "When you slapped me with this cane, if felt a little too heavy to just be made of wood. Fancy bringing a weapon into an interrogation room."

He pushed the blade back into its sheathe before letting it drop. His eyes turned back to Killian as he took his seat once more. "Why does the abrupt theft of the Red Crown have anything to do with the possibility of a demon searching for Bloodfyre?"

"Do you know nothing?" Intero snarled. "The Red Crown is made of Red Adamantine! Who is to say whoever stole the Crown is seeking to recreate Bloodfyre!?"

"Or it could be someone just going for a very ambitious target," Harm replied. "There is no solid link between the two except for the coincidental timing." His eyes locked with Aria for a moment and she lowered her arms, returning to his stoic, unmoving stance. "However, if it will ease the mind of the Apex Clericus Solis, I'll follow the lead."

"Truly, you are a saint." Intero's sarcasm and loathing tensed the air once more. "Did you have any other leads to follow?"

Harm rose from his seat and headed towards the door, white scarf fluttering behind him and slapping against Intero's face. "As a matter of fact, I do. Thankfully, it's on the way to where the Red Crown should have been kept." He cast a glance over his shoulder at Raxallian. "It was still being housed in the Pyromancer's Tower, right?"

Raxallian nodded numbly.

"Yes my lord. Pervenire Ignis."

*****

The call came in the middle of the night or at least as far as 'night' could come to Incendius. The Station of the Sun never truly experienced darkness so close to the Sun Spire. The sky merely turned a dark purple as the Sun Spire dimmed but still shone with a soft, warm light. In the dark office of the Apex Clericus Solis, it was warmest as it sat directly beneath the peak of the Sun Spire. A cool air still wafted through the open doors offering some respite but even Raxallian was showing signs of weariness as he sat at his desk, waving a fan at his exposed next.

Raxallian set down his fan and switched it to his other hand. Harm chose that moment to step out of the shadows.

"An electric fan from the upper Stations would help. Maybe even an air conditioner."

The Apex Clericus looked up in surprise and immediately sprang to his feet. "My lord... "

He held up his paw, gesturing for Raxallian to take his seat. "No need for formalities. To the world, you are still the one with the crown and I'm just a soldier." He strode across the room and took the seat in front of Raxallian's broad desk. "Now what did you need from this old grunt?"

"With all due respect, my lord, you do not look a day over twenty."

Harm laughed softly. "Been a while since anyone has flattered me. There is no need for such flowery words." He smiled gently at the young man who had the responsibilities of a world thrust onto him. "What did you call me here for, Raxallian? You must be exhausted."

"I apologise for the ungodly hour, my lord..."

"You're lucky I cannot sleep."

"Trouble with the bed?"

Again, Harm let out a soft laugh and tapped the side of his head. "Sadly, no. If you recall, I am Time Locked as with every Chronomancer. I am forever frozen in the same state as I was when the ritual took place. That means I cannot eat, sleep, urinate, defecate or any other such action many mortals take advantage of. I don't need rest so long as I have a fragment of strength left in my veins. That fragment will grow rapidly and eventually, I will be back to my original state as if nothing ever happened."

"Ah... Of course." Raxallian bowed his head, seemingly abashed at being corrected with such common knowledge. "I apologise, my lord."

"But the gesture is still very much appreciated," Harm said, smiling. "It's nice to be treated with a degree of normalcy despite being far from it."

"Would that I could enjoy such pleasures."

The Wulfun let out a soft sigh, ending with his lips turning into a gentle smile. "What did you want to be when you grew up? And don't bother telling me you always wanted to be Apex Clericus Solis. I knew your father. He was hell-bent on making Xanos his successor and barely even mentioned you in passing."

Raxallian gave him a sad smile. "I wished to be a soldier. I wanted to join the Custodia Solis. I was made for action not the political dances that I must constantly undergo despite being bored to death." He slammed his fist into the table, body twitching in anger. "Xanos was trained from a child on how to rule the world and here I am, having a lifetime worth of knowledge being crammed into my head."

He gave Harm a shaky, sad smile. "The Mother Goddess truly has a sense of humour to grant Xanos a Valour and take him into the Paladin Order while I am left with the crown."

"I doubt she is laughing." Harm ran a claw down the arm of the chair. "The Mother Goddess doesn't make her children suffer but she cannot grant every wish. Someone will always suffer when a god acts. Fortune to one man is misfortune to another. My guess is that Xanos just prayed harder."

Raxallian let out a bitter laugh. The young man leaned back in his high-backed chair, looking infinitely older and worn. "Would you believe me if I said that I have never prayed honestly in my life?"

"Neither have I. I am a walking heresy. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure why Killian didn't tear me a new one back in that interrogation room."

Shaking his head sadly, Raxallian pulled himself out of his seat and turned towards the open window. "I never wanted this. I was going to be a soldier. Any prayer that I made was only that my sword or my arrow would strike true. I never prayed to a god. I believed in the strength of my own hands, my muscles and my wit. Nothing else."

A dark chuckle came from the tired youth. "At first, I thought I could bring that philosophy to this office. I wanted to make the office of the Apex Clericus Solis not just a title for faith and worship but return it to its true origins, its true purpose." He turned to Harm, eyes filled with wonder and awe, inspiration. "Do you know the origins of this office?"

Harm knew it all too well but decided to play ignorant. Raxallian seemed to need the rant. "Unfortunately, my Incendian history is a little rusty."

Turning back towards the open expanse of Corona, the young leader said, "The office of Apex Clericus Solis was officially granted to Ventrias Ki'nerth thousands of years ago during the march from Corona to the Darkened lands. Ventrias was a soldier but he was devoted to the Brave Farmer and the Sun Goddess. During an ambush in the Southern Frostenlands, Ventrias stepped above the rest and saved the Brave Farmer. For his courage, Ventrias was granted the Red Crown by the Farmer and given the office of 'High Priest of the Sun'.

"For centuries, every Apex Clericus Solis has made crusades against the Darkened, trying to defeat the menace once and for all. But upon recent times, the office has become less of a soldier's mantle and one where men go to wither and die while being fawned upon by their subjects."

"I know Leandros and Phalgymr share the same thoughts about their own offices," Harm said. "Both of them lived through the Sunshadow War. I think Phalgymr enjoys the intrigue of court but Leandros is ever the wolf and is restless in his snowy home."

"We are warriors, my lord," Raxallian said, raising a fist and thrusting it into the air. "But our swords have been blunted, our claws removed and our fangs chiselled down." Lowering his hand, he regarded his open palm with a hint of sadness. "Peace is no time for the soldier." His eyes turned over his shoulder at Harm. "That is why I envy you, Lord Chronos. Even in times of peace, you are constantly fighting. Your blade is ever drawn and you fight to maintain that peace while we languish in it."

Harm rested his elbow on the armrest, leaning against that arm. "I don't think a state of constant war is something you should be envious of. I am constantly being harassed by the Inquisition, suspected of heresy despite whatever I do and I have to be careful what I say or I might reveal one of the Church's most ruinous secrets. Though I do enjoy making the occasional time-based quip that leaves people confused." He broke into a bright grin. "There was this one time -"

"Still," Raxallian sighed, "Your heart is constantly racing. Your feet are constantly moving and your paws constantly on the hilt of your blade. For me, my heart dulls with every beat, my joints ache from inaction and my blade rusts on some pedestal. Yours is the life I wish to live, my lord. Yet I cannot. The most I can do is hope my reign does not end with assassination, to marry a woman I barely know and sire a child so that they too may suffer under this burden.

"I can only hope to leave a legacy that will last long beyond my natural lifetime."

The young man's words amused the Chronomancer. They were both immature and at the same time filled with wisdom. Depression seemed to taint most of Raxallian's words but there was a slight hint of resignation in them as well and perhaps a fragment of hope.

"Legacies can go both ways. You can be remembered for being a hero or a tyrant, a madman or a revolutionary, a genius or a lunatic. It all depends on how you forge your actions and how you play your hand." Harm clapped his paws together and leapt out of the seat with a swing of his legs. "But tell me, why in the world did you call me at this ungodly hour?"

Raxallian turned around, his eyes fierce and determined. "I will be accompanying you to the Pyromancer's Tower. My uncle, Intero, will be coming as well. I wanted you to understand that his words and his actions are all geared to ensuring that I leave that legacy... just so that he might be credited for it."

Harm lifted his eyebrows briefly and let out a soft 'ah' of understanding. "Let me guess, Intero was there for you throughout your entire childhood, supporting you despite the fact that his relation to you is so distant that it has circumnavigated the world twenty times over and still missed the connection. Now that you have the crown, he hopes you will be remembered for all time but in the history books, they will whisper of his constant intervention which gave you that glory. Should I be surprised if I do some digging and learn that Xanos' abdication was also part of his plan?"

The Apex Clericus Solis smiled grimly. "You are a shrewd wolf, Lord Chronos." He sat back down and lowered his head. "Uncle Intero believes me to be an awestruck child with a degree of hero worship. Someone easy to mould but as I have said before, I am a soldier and not a general. I made that choice knowing to avoid political machinations. I sniffed out his intentions long before he put them into action but while I would have resisted, my older brother had already made up his mind and nothing I could do could convince him otherwise.

"I make this show of being the impressionable child to placate my uncle but I have no intention of being his pawn. I seek your aid in this matter."

Harm leaned back in his chair. "You're very lucky I'm not a soldier."

"Then who are you?"

His eyes glinted with mischief. "Whoever I need to be." He stood up and held out his paw over the table. "Let's give your uncle hell."

The light of excitement entered Raxallian's eyes and he reached across the table, shaking Harm's paw in return. "Agreed."