The world inverted as Anilith fell through the door of shadows. The force that tethered her to the earth held no sway here, yet she had a distinct impression that up had become down, and down up. It wasn’t an impression she’d felt the last time she came here, but then again, those portals had been more typical doors. Regardless, it was a momentary distraction, as she had far more important things to worry about—like the less-than-happy goblin that was now trapped in this space.

  Hopefully.

  The Warlord stood ten paces from where she rose from the ground as if from a still pool of water. Despite being forced from his seat of power, he seemed…relaxed.

  “Interesting place, this one. It isn’t darkness,” the goblin mused. “No…Shadow Magic. That’s not so rare in and of itself, but a domain like this? That, at least, explains how you were able to bypass the army, fat lot of good that will have done for you.” He tilted his head, looking at Anilith. “So, what’s the plan? Lock me away from my allies so they can’t help me? They know better than to interfere with my fun. Gods only know it’s been too long since I’ve had any real sport. If anything, you just signed your friends up for more fun than they’ll know what to do with.”

  “Not gonna lie,” Anilith said, “Getting you here was the plan. I’m kinda winging it from here. No chance this counts as defeating you, since you’re not in the Keep anymore?”

  The Warlord doubled over laughing.

  “You’re really clueless, aren’t you? You pulled me away, sure, but I’m still in the Keep, or at least tethered to the Keep. This place, it’s a shadow realm—a shadow of the world. Really, I’m surprised your friends didn’t explain any of this. Dangerous things wander the myriad planes tethered to the physical… strange, isn’t it, that none of them have wandered anywhere near here, what with your long friend’s liberal use of shadow magic and bringing in unattuned morsels.”

  “Eh,” Anilith said, scratching her head with her free hand, “Razh ain’t the most thoughtful individual. He’s got great instincts, but no talent for sharing them. Wouldn’t be surprised if he never even realized he knew any of that, assuming he’s not making it up as he goes.”

  “It’s a wonder you three even made it this far.”

  The Warlord summoned a metal throne while they talked, taking a seat.

  “You don’t know how strange you are, do you?”

  “Me?” Anilith asked, miming incredulity. “Not a strange bone in my body. You’re the one sitting down after you were just raring to fight.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I still am—but I don’t see either of us going anywhere any time soon. Trapped might be a stretch, but it’s fair to say we’re on our own here. No harm in a little chat, is there? Unless you’re worried about your allies, that is.”

  “They’ve been through rougher spots; they’ll make it through.”

  “Confident. You’d have to be to pull a stunt like this,” the Warlord said, face widening with amusement. “Locking yourself in here with me and all.”

  “With you? I’m not locked in with you,” Anilith said flatly, “You’re locked—”

  “Let me just stop you there, child. Before you say something terribly droll, let’s just clear something up: I’m not locked in anywhere, just inconvenienced. Fighting you here, fighting you there; it doesn’t make a difference to me. So, feel free to make yourself comfortable, or not.“

  “Feeling awfully talkative, are we, Warlord? Anilith asked, pulling out a seat of her own, at a comfortable distance.

  “You know,” the creature said with a wince, “I never chose that name, nor do I live up to its honor. If you only knew the power of a warlord. My current limits, even unburdened as you’ve made me, pale before our ancient warriors. Once, I might have destroyed an army like my own by but flexing my will, but I was still helpless before the darkness that claimed our home.

  “Death comes for one of us, and if these are your last breaths, what harm is there in sharing enlightenment, such as I am able? Do you know what makes your group so strange, aside from the serpent in the room?” He held up a hand, silencing her. “Don’t answer that; you don’t know enough to properly answer. I’ve already told you that you lack balance, and yet that does little to hinder you.

  “Let me tell you a little of those who came before you. They were a balanced unit, not that it mattered in the face of that man’s overwhelming power, and the woman who covered his back. I never even got to see what the rest of them were capable of. Next to them, you’re woefully inadequate…and yet you rise to the occasion, time and again. Why is that?

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  “From the reports I bothered to look at, each of you came in with a specialized skillset, sure, but none of them were that dangerous—hardly anything that should have carried you to the summit. You cover each other’s weaknesses well, making for an unorthodox team, but that’s not the most important thing. No matter what we’ve thrown at you, you’ve adapted. When everything you’ve known isn’t enough, you just make something new happen.

  “Believe it or not, most people’s views aren’t malleable enough to pull that off. Most people running into challenge after challenge accept that it’s impossible at some point, but you fools just kept trudging right along, pulling tricks out of nowhere—you most of all. That is what this is all about. Even the anomalies that nearly conquered this place were victims of their own worldview. They were strong because they knew they were strong. They didn’t have a fraction of your adaptability. You three, you couldn’t hold a candle to their power, but there are some walls power alone can’t break through.”

  “Well, thanks for bringing me to my humble knees,” Anilith said, rolling her eyes. “Here, I thought we were doing pretty well for ourselves. Turns out we’re a bunch of weaklings.”

  A wide grin crossed his face as he leaned forward in his throne.

  “Now, I never said that. Aren’t you curious, though? Why was this place made? Why put such Rules in place, limiting the challenge we can offer?” The Warlord mused.

  “I can’t say those thoughts haven’t crossed my mind.”

  “Beat me, and maybe I’ll give you a clue!” The goblin announced, dismissing his throne and jumping forward.

  Anilith reacted quickly, leaping away from her own chair, the shadowed landscape rippling from the pair’s sudden movement.

  She’d grown tired of the chatter, anyway.

  Could really use some of the kid’s help right about now, Orion thought, dodging yet another energy blast.

  Things had…not been going so well since she disappeared into the shadowy void. The moment the portal closed behind her, the elite gobs had roared, enraged by the abduction of their leader. Orion had quickly abandoned his attempts at fighting back—it was all he could do to weave himself between the connections, making sure to be where they were not. Fighting against one variant had been bad enough, but fighting against all of them at once?

  It was damned near suicidal.

  Least she coulda done is leave me with some wind-sense or somethin’, he grumbled to the only soul that could hear him.

  Ohhh, quit your complaining, Razh fired back. You agreed to this. It’s not her fault that you didn’t think her plan through. Besides, you know she couldn’t afford to be locked up, fighting a beast like that. Who knows what tricks he’s got up his sleeves if the peasants are this tough.

  Razhik, along with his Shadow Guard, was all that stood between Orion and the wrong end of a bad day. Grodo, Froaky, Croaky, and Babblin the Small each bore an immense tower shield, granting Orion some cover in the form of their shadow-clad Juggernaut forms. Froaky took to the assignment comfortably, hardly having to adjust his fighting style to the larger-than-normal shield, while Croaky and Babblin switched to more appropriately sized weapons, and the Small did not seem pleased to put aside his monstrous claymore.

  Thankfully, there were more than enough goblins to assuage his irritation.

  Razhik, never one to leave the work to his underlings, dashed through the battlefield, a veritable blender of talons and death. The hordes rebuffed any attempt he made to close ranks with the elites, but the fodder paid the price. Fast as he was, though, in such a stationary arena, irritating burns accumulated on his long form. Couple that with the irritating illusions he struggled to pierce, and he wasn’t sure he was actually coming out ahead, despite the devastation he wrought. No matter how many goblins he laid low, there was always another to take their place, or maybe it just looked that way.

  Yeah, illusionists were quickly climbing the ranks of enemies to kill on sight, but their powers did make that a touch difficult.

  The rain, at least, served as a panacea for his wounds, even if they couldn’t heal fast enough. It was enough to keep him in the fight, just a little longer. Still, he hadn’t been able to fully replenish his resources before the fight, and they dwindled. His Shadows were doing an admirable job of soaking up any overly powerful skills, letting him use their unreasonably large shields to deflect their spells into groups of unsuspecting allies.

  A wall of corpses slowly built up around his allies at the center of the Ziggurat's peak, shielding them from view, but the goblins were hardly deterred. As it turned out, they weren't above a little friendly desecration if it brought their foes back into their crosshairs.

  It was a strange phenomenon, the way the bodies crisped and burned, only to melt to an ashen, gunky puddle, and the stone plateau was starting to resemble Razhik's marshy home. Razhik really had a chance to differentiate the unique ways fire, electricity, and lava each dismantled the bodies, but he could have gone without that particular lesson. Taking advantage of such a slight reprieve to take shelter in the center while the enemy carved a path.

  His brief reprieve wasn't nearly enough. It gave him a moment to breathe, but the horde surged forth in his absence. Shouldering his exhaustion, the King returned to the fore. If he could buy them a little more time, that was his duty.

  You know this was never about winning, anyway. We just have to hope Ani makes some headway before we’re overrun. I doubt we’ll still be breathing by the time the Grokar break through.

  Orion grimaced, unable to refute the truth of his friend's words.

  Here we are again, hopin’ for the kid to pull off a miracle. That’s all we ever had here, though: Hope. Shoulda died ten times over already, Orion thought grimly, but it ain’t too late for us yet.

  Privately, he added, We’re countin’ on you, kid. Don’t leave us hangin’.