Harald returned without difficulty to Sam’s chamber. Exeros’ mote followed him silently. Harald glanced back at it once or twice, but the seraph clearly did not feel compelled to discuss their bond further.

  Suited Harald just fine.

  With the seraph in tow, Harald pushed open both golden double doors and entered the airy central chamber that Sam had claimed. The verdant canopy tinted the pale air green, and the gray marble that formed every surface was cool and elegant to the eye.

  Kársek was seated upon the settee, rune hammer laid across his lap, his powerful hands resting atop the haft. In that moment the dwarf suddenly looked his age; young, with a honey-colored beard twisted into a short central chin-braid, his hair tousled, his skin burnished. His ragged yellow coat was the worse for wear and revealed the glints of mithril chain beneath it.

  Damn. But it was so easy to forget how Kársek was considered a youth by his own people.

  The dwarf opened deep, piercing green eyes that were flecked with gold and considered Harald for a moment before inclining his head and smiling. “You live.”

  “Did you doubt I would?” Harald moved forward to join him.

  “I am outside my depths on this level.” Kársek sounded calm as ever, but Harald could read the tension hidden between the words. “Lord Alabenthos has been a gracious host, but he has tried the very limits of my patience. Had you not returned soon, I would have begun the no doubt unwelcome process of finding you.”

  Harald sat. “What were you told?”

  Kársek eyed Exeros’ mote curiously. “That you were consolidating your many powers and being evaluated once more by Brauxis. This came from Rovarik, Nessa’s instructor. I believed him, but guessed that there was more than he was telling.”

  Harald sighed and passed his hand over his face. “Much more. I’m Level 9 now. I’ve consolidated all my powers into four main ones. They’re…” Harald leaned back onto the white cushions and tried to find the right words. “They’re impressive. Simpler to use. More intuitive, I guess. But very draining.”

  Kársek raised a bushy blonde brow. “And?”

  “I spooked Brauxis. Guess I was becoming too powerful, too quickly?” Harald managed a crooked smile. “He locked me up, and when I forced my way out, I was guided to an audience with Alabenthos. Who decided to let me live and serve him as long as I accepted the oversight of that guy.” And he gestured at the mote.

  Kársek frowned. “That light is a person?”

  “Exeros. A big deal, apparently. Or was.” Harald gazed at the lightly bobbing light and wondered if the disdainful child within could hear him. No doubt he could. “He had titles like the Scourge of the Abyss, Shield of Creation, the Bright Ruin, but now he’s known as the Shattered Seraph. Alabenthos forced me to accept a Soul Bond with him, so that he can always know where I am. If he judges me falling into the darkness and moving into Vorakhar’s service, he’ll kill me.”

  Kársek’s frown was deep and severe. “I…”

  “You what, old friend?” Harald eyed him. “You’ll stop him from killing me so you can slay me first?”

  Kársek went to protest but then fell silent.

  “I may be your thark?n, but I know that you’ll never follow me if I risk becoming a gathul like Vorakhar. Or his plaything. Which… is why I agreed to this whole charade. Alabenthos fears my becoming a terrible weapon of the enemy. But I know you and Sam would stop me way before I could bend knee to the demons.”

  Kársek nodded with grim reluctance. “That is true. I will follow you anywhere, into any depth, hell, or perdition, for as long as you retain your honor. But should you one day lose yourself entirely to your nightself, then my debt shall transfer to the memory of the man you once were, and in his name I shall slay the monster you shall have become.”

  “Yeah.” Harald sighed and leaned his head back, eyes closing. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, my friend. Which renders this Exeros’ presence redundant. Which he’s probably thrilled to hear. But whatever. He can tag along if it causes Alabenthos to trust me.”

  “Hmm.” Kársek considered the rune hammer in his lap. “Very well. If this Shattered Seraph is an angel, then no doubt he shall behave with honor.”

  “What of you?” Harald cracked an eye open. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my path and power growth that I’ve not checked in with you in forever. How goes the meditation?”

  “It goes well.” Kársek allowed himself the quietest of smiles. “The deeper we delve, the more the Earthblood… changes. Closer to the surface, it was potent, but… thin. Like overly watered soup. Still nourishing in sufficient quantities, but only now, as we delve deeper, do I realize how wondrous Earthblood can be.”

  Harald sat up. “Yeah?”

  “The Earthblood here, it is thicker, yes, but more importantly—perhaps strangely—its nature as the essence of the deeps is growing more obvious. At times, I get flashes of vast caverns that I’ve never seen.” Kársek stroked the rune hammer pensively. “I hear the din of mighty hammers at work on countless forges or sense the weight of rock above my head like a fish might intuit the dark oceans around it. As if I were tapping into ancestral memories, the weight of ages compressed into liquid power.” He pursed his lips, deep in thought. “The Earthblood here feels older. Heavier. Different. And it affects my understanding of my class in turn. What it means to be a DreadRune. An agent of destruction.”

  Harald nodded slowly, feeling again that tingling sense of awe that overtook him whenever he caught a glimpse of the alien strangeness of Kársek’s reality, his power, his might.

  “But more than that…” Kársek glanced up. “You remember how I am a Tinker Dwarf?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m descended from those who were exiled from Dumr?n. I was born in Marheim. I’ve never seen the ancestral deeps. But now… now it feels as if those very deeps, the roots of Dumr?n… they’re seeing me. Remembering me. Not welcoming. The deeps don’t care about my origins. But recognizing me as a dwarf, as stone-kin. And…”

  Again, Kársek trailed off, to study his rune hammer as he passed his fingers over its carved head.

  “That’s got to be… disconcerting,” hazarded Harald.

  “Yes. It is. But only because it feels so… right. Tinker Dwarves by definition… we roam. We are homeless. But this Earthblood. It feels like returning to my Hall fathers. And with that sense comes deeper understanding of Khazadrok. The Rune of Destruction. It feels more… intuitive now. More malleable. Where before it was a graven image, proud, terrible, untouchable, I now understand it to be a concept. One that I can warp and refine.”

  Harald studied his friend’s frowning visage. “You don’t sound pleased?”

  Kársek looked up to meet his gaze. “What we do down here we do for honor, out of obligation, because it must be done, because it is right. But. I was an Earth Mover, once. I preferred gardening. Now I must destroy. So no, Harald. I am not… pleased.”

  And what was worse, where anyone else might have been angry, or resentful, Kársek sounded nothing so much as… sad. Melancholy.

  “I’m sorry,” said Harald at last. “That our journey has taken you here. To these powers. These obligations.”

  Kársek sighed and the rune hammer faded away. “Don’t be sorry. Were it not for you, I’d be dead on the 4th Level. You saved my life, and now I shall find the means to save yours.” And at this the young dwarf managed a smile. “Simple.”

  “Simple,” agreed Harald, and laughed.

  Footsteps. Sam appeared between the golden doors, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Harald. “You’re back!”

  And she rushed to him as he rose to his feet to embrace him tightly.

  “I—whoa! Yes. I’m back. Were you—?”

  Sam held him tightly. “Seraphina told me what was at stake. Which means…” She pulled away to stare at Exeros’ mote. “It’s happened.”

  “You mean Exeros?” Harald reluctantly allowed their arms to disengage. “You knew about him?”

  “Only today. Once you frightened Brauxis. Seraphina… well.” She tore her eyes away from the ivory light to study him. “She’s not your biggest advocate. And when she heard, or sensed, or however she learned from Brauxis about how scary you’d become, she…” Sam tucked a golden lock behind one ear. “She explained what was going to happen.”

  “I see.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Sam flushed. “I didn’t agree, obviously. But what choice did I have? Seraphina explained I couldn’t get close even if I tried.”

  A cold part of Harald wanted to press her to ask: but did you try?

  But he resisted. Well could he imagine how helpless she’d have felt, and how there was absolutely nothing she could do if Alabenthos barred her way.

  Sam studied him, expression intent, and reached for his hands. “Harald. Please understand. We’re in a good place here. These are the angels. They suspect you because of the Seed you carry, but we have to trust—we must believe that they’ll make the right decisions. That they know what’s best. They’re not just some faction in Flutic, some noble house we’re aligning with. They’re the Fallen Angel’s defenders. They’re… they’re holy.” Her gaze had taken on a beseeching look. “Do you see? So when I heard Alabenthos was evaluating you again… I, on some fundamental level, just trusted that everything would turn out for the best. And it has.”

  “I see.” Harald squeezed her hands so as to not upset her before he stepped away. Stared out at nothing for a beat, trying to reconcile her faith with his own cynical skepticism, and then sighed. “Well, you’re right. Here we are. Alabenthos trusts me, insofar as the moment he has cause not to, I’ll be incinerated by Sir Shattered Seraph over there.”

  Sam nodded unhappily. “If that’s what it takes. I don’t like it either—the necessity of it—but I understand it.”

  Harald raised an eyebrow. “My being treated like a rabid dog?”

  “From their point of view?” She took a step closer. “You are. It’s the Demon Seed, obviously. They see you as being infected by it. And we’re asking them to take it on faith that you’re both strong enough to resist and will continue to want to in the long run. Seraphina and I—well. We’ve had… arguments. I’ve vouched for you, time and again, but her fallback position is simply ‘wait and see’. You’re not the first demon-kin to swear oaths about their pure intentions. She wouldn’t say it’s common, but apparently… many demon-kin see themselves as rebels, or swear that they’ll defy their masters right till they can’t keep fooling themselves any longer and go completely over to the dark side.”

  “Heh.” Harald shook his head. “So, my very protests are just part of the same pattern.”

  Kársek had drawn out his pipe, taken the time to tamp down some herb, and now exhaled twin plumes of smoke like a yellow-clad dragon from his nostrils. “Amongst my kind, stating one’s intentions is a respected practice, but it is the deed that carries the honor. You should not waste your time trying to convince them, Harald.”

  “Right.” Harald glanced at Exeros’ hovering white mote once more. “I guess that’s all I can do regardless.” With great effort he put his resentment aside and forced a smile. “How about you, Sam? While I’ve been manifesting all their deepest fears about what I’ll become, how have you fared under Seraphina?”

  Sam hesitated, clearly unhappy with where they’d left matters, but then allowed herself a slight smile and stepped back to sit on the settee’s arm. “Good. Seraphina is… well. You already know. Amazing. She’s not ranked the number one raider in all Flutic for no reason. Training under her has been…” Her smile widened to become radiant. “Incredible.”

  “So, you’ve been having fun.”

  She scowled at him. “Yes. I have, actually. Training with the blade, meditation, and lots of conversation. There’s so much to learn. Things the Church of the Fallen Angel never says out loud - if they’re even aware of it. But, most excitingly, I’ve been able to work on my new powers.”

  Kársek let out an oily metallic puff of smoke. “Your Level 5 abilities?”

  Sam nodded with a grin. “Right. I manifested them during our fight at the Celestara Estate but never got a chance to explore them. But now. I can’t wait to try them out.”

  Harald’s smile was genuine now. “What have you got?”

  Sam smoothed down the fabric over her thighs. “Well, my powers so far have been almost entirely reactive, right? I shield, I heal, I can punish enemies that transgress against my wards. In many ways I’ve been a fortress—a place where you all can fight from. But I’ve had no way to take ground, to move into battle, to hunt the enemies my Netherwarden Knight class is sworn against. That’s finally changed.”

  “I like the sound of that,” smiled Kársek.

  “My Active is called Hallowed Advance. The description reads: Step forward and the light steps with you. Where the Netherwarden treads, the nether recedes. Basically, this allows me to project my protective aura forward, creating a moving corridor that designates parts of the battlefield as sacred space. Think of it as a mobile enhancement for Starfire Bastion. It’ll allow me to act like a spearhead, pushing into the enemy, and make it so that we’re not tied down to one place during a fight.”

  “Excellent,” said Harald. “Wonder how that will play with my Crown of the Abyssal Tyrant.”

  “Guess we’ll find out.” But Sam was too excited to stop. “And my Passive is Steadfast Luminance. I love this one. Your radiance cannot be fully quenched. Where others light would gutter and die, yours dims but persists, finding purchase in the deepest dark. It means my light-based abilities can’t be suppressed or nullified any longer, though obviously I don’t know how well I’d stand up to a truly powerful demon, but it means that nobody can just end my role in a fight like snuffing out a candle.”

  “Unstoppable,” smiled Harald.

  “And!” Sam beamed. “It’s—Seraphina pointed this out—my Soul Nature is Brightest Star. Steadfast Luminance means my essence, the very nature of my being can’t be dispelled. It means I’ll be able to fight by your side without being overwhelmed by your powers. Together, these two new powers make it so that I’m not just a healer who stands in the back and struggles to protect everyone, but that I’m a protector who now advances and endures. And…” She trailed off, suddenly nervous, almost shy. “Where you break people and groups down, I provide cohesion and stability. Making us like opposite sides of the same coin. There’s a symbolism there, right?”

  “True.” Harald wanted to step close again and embrace her, but Kársek was right there, puffing away merrily. “Perfect. And that’s just at Level 5.”

  Sam suddenly wilted. “And you’re Level 9 now?” She shook her head. “So unfair. How are we supposed to keep up?”

  “You’re an angel-kin,” said Kársek. “And your Soul Rank is Divine. Don’t fret. You’ll catch him up soon enough.”

  “True.” Sam considered. “Oh! And have you spoken to Nessa yet?”

  Harald shook his head. “She all right?”

  Kársek grunted in amusement.

  “She…” Sam’s grin was practically conspiratorial. “She and Rovarik have been getting along very well.”

  “Oh?” Harald frowned, then understood. “Oh!”

  “Right? At first she loathed him. It was so romantic!” Sam clasped her hands under her chin and fell off the arm onto the settee proper. “She’d show up after a day of training just spitting with spite. He’s a better fencer than she is, and she just couldn’t forgive him for it. I’ve never seen her so motivated.”

  “And then about a week ago,” prompted Kársek.

  “A week ago, she just disappeared. Didn’t come back that night. If we’d been anywhere else, I’d have been worried, but when we saw her the next evening, she was…” Sam glanced to Kársek for help.

  He considered, then cracked a smile of his own. “Content.”

  “Content?” Sam pretended to throw a pillow at him. “Like a cat that’s gotten into the creamery. When I asked, she told me it was an adult matter, and that it’d be inappropriate to share with someone so young. But she was smiling as she said it, and she’s been… well, she was. For a few days.”

  Kársek nodded, expression turning grim.

  “But?” asked Harald. “What happened? Did they have a falling out?” A protective instinct arose within him. If that smug bastard had hurt Nessa, or taken her for granted, or…

  “No. I think… I think Nessa has trouble being happy?”

  “Oh,” said Harald. “Right. Yes. Did she sabotage it?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know the details. And she obviously hasn’t shared. But three days ago, she showed up looking all haunted and miserable, and the only thing she said before locking herself in her room was, ‘the hawks have come home to roost’.”

  “The hawks? Is that an expression I should know?”

  Kársek considered his pipe. “You recall how she was without the Twilight Crown?”

  “Yeah. That was hard. But she seemed to have overcome it since Celestara? Oh. She hadn’t?”

  “We think she distracted herself,” said Sam. “With all the fighting, then hating Rovarik, then the fun of… well. But after a few days of bliss, we think her… I don’t know what to call it, exactly. Her problems? They must have reared their head. And she hasn’t been back to training since. Rovarik has come by asking for her, but she’s refused to talk to him.”

  Harald blinked. “Is she here? Now? In her room?”

  “No,” said Sam. “These past two days she’s been going out for solitary walks. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want company, and doesn’t want to talk about it, but she’s looked… utterly miserable.” Sam grimaced. “I’ve been hoping you’d catch her, because you’ve always had a way with getting through to her, but you’ve been…”

  “I’ve been busy,” sighed Harald. “And even when I was here, I barely noticed anyone, anyway. Damn it.” He scrubbed at his face. “Well, is she out right now?”

  “She is,” said Kársek. “But she returns each evening to eat alone in her room.”

  “Right. I’ll speak with her.”

  “Good.” Sam sighed and settled her shoulders. “It’s been such a strange time. Half of it spent training under Seraphina, learning more about myself, the Fallen Angel, the Celestial War, how to better handle my own powers… and half of it worrying about you and Nessa. I’ve felt like I was two people.”

  “That should be drawing to an end. We’ve got to start fighting our way down to the 41st,” said Harald, glancing against his will at Exeros once more. It was so easy to forget he was there, just listening in. Well, fuck him. Harald wasn’t about to censure himself because a truculent child was tagging along. “But first Nessa.”

  “First Nessa,” agreed Sam.

  “Shame about Vic,” murmured Kársek. “He’d want to be here for Nessa.”

  “But he left,” said Harald, and his voice was harsher than he’d intended. “I’m sure we’ll see him again one day. Hopefully soon. But for now? Fuck him.”

  Sam frowned unhappily.

  They remained silent for a spell, each sunken in their own thoughts, and then Sam roused herself. “Regardless. Hungry?”

  Harald laughed. “Starving.”

  * * *

  The other two had gone to their chambers. For a while Sam and Harald had remained alone on the settee, sharing their emotions and experiences from the past few days, fingers interlaced, enjoying just being close to each other, but Nessa’s pain felt like a physical weight between them, and having Exeros just floating in the chamber’s far corner put a pall on any desire to get closer.

  So Sam eventually excused herself with a chaste kiss on his lips, and left Harald to await their Delve Captain.

  Deep in his own thoughts and wrestling with exhaustion, Harald had almost fallen asleep in the chamber’s deepening gloom when one of the golden doors cracked open to admit a slender dark form.

  Harald blinked and sat up, knowing immediately that it was Nessa from the way she moved, the subtle scent, the blue-black glimmer of her long hair.

  “Nessa?” He rubbed at his face.

  The shadow remained still by the door, and for a second he thought she’d simply step back out into the hallway and disappear.

  But then she sighed, as if accepting the inevitability of this encounter, and closed the door quietly behind her. “Harald.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been absent. That I missed what was going on.”

  “Don’t be. I…” She trailed off. Her voice was raw, a complex medley of unhappiness, sarcasm, and bleak despair. “I…”

  He rose to his feet and compelled by instinct moved toward her as she entered the room. For a moment he thought he might embrace her, that she might need the hug, but her arms were tightly crossed, her face lowered, so he stopped a pace before her.

  She seemed to be struggling with something, so he waited, watching her carefully, as if she were made of spun glass and might fracture and fall apart at any moment.

  If she did, he was there to catch her.

  But finally she looked up just enough that her eyes glimmered through her black tresses. “I’m sorry, Harald. But I can’t go with you to the 41st.”

  “No?” His mind blanked. Her not joining them simply wasn’t a possibility. “What do you mean?”

  “I…” She took a deep breath and then straightened. “I must return to Flutic. I must face my past.” Her words were burnished with steely intent and deep, ancient pain. “I must go home, Harald. I have to face my father.”