text: Surprisingly, Breena's present didn't take very long. Merada explained in detail what fairy wands were supposed to do, which was to just enhance, channel, and direct magic that was already cast. Which was the only thing I had been using script magic for so far. The best way I could explain the concept was to compare normal fairy spells to thrown rocks, and their wands to slingshots. And the Chaos-enhanced branch I had seemed like the perfect material to work this on. And if I screwed up, we were going to run into more Chaos Wound infestations, where I would probably find more magic wood.
  
  But it didn't even come to that. After a few practice runs with a piece I could afford to break off, my first real attempt worked like a charm. Part of the reason for it was that I kept the spells simple, similar to what I used script magic to do before. I didn't enable it to store spare spells, or let Breena cast ones she couldn't already cast. I just scribed and sang, and shaped inscriptions into the stick to let her do more of what she already did. Merada helped where she could, and it turned out she knew a little bit of all three magics herself, or at least enough to keep me from doing something horribly stupid.
  
  In the end, I did the simplest spells I could from all three schools, set plenty of boundaries to keep them from being misused (because breaking the rules was my job, not Breena's), and then poured as much raw mana into the creation as Merada would let me.
  
  It turned out that raw mana is an excellent crutch for novices.
  
  It also turned out that by wizardry standards, I had a lot of raw mana. Enough to where Merada was visibly impressed, which did wonders for my insecurities. And best of all, depleting my mental energy really helped me get some sleep afterwards. Just before I went to sleep, a notification from my mindscreen popped up.
  
  ─ The Challenger has successfully crafted a magic item. The Challenger has gained a point of Intelligence and Wisdom from exercising his mind in new ways. The Challenger has gained a rank in Script Magic, Song Magic, and Shaping Magic.
  
  ─ The Challenger has taken another step down the Path of the Archmage. Magic-related skills will be easier to understand.
  
  ─ The Challenger has gained his first rank of the skill Magical Crafting.
  
  The next thing I remembered, a tiny pink light had rushed into my room and began opening every boarded window she could find.
  
  "Rise and," she began cheerfully, then yawned loudly. "Rise and shine! Big day peoples… hi Merada," Breena suddenly said in a neutral voice. "How was your night with Wes?"
  
  "Hmm?" a sleepy voice said next to me. "Wes? Who?"
  
  I became dimly aware of a lean, pleasant shape next to me.
  
  "Oh, you know him," Breena replied casually. "Tall, red hair, can get really broody or really goofy in the same minute, frustratingly handsome, currently the person your right arm is draped over."
  
  There was an arm draped over my chest, I realized. I tried to remember how it got there.
  
  <She fell asleep after watching you play with your magic wand,> Dragon-Me provided unhelpfully. <Said it was too boring and over too soon.>
  
  I muttered an angry reply at him and tried not to lose my grip, crushing down on the irritating impulse that made me freak out whenever a beautiful woman touched me. Except for a slight twitch that I hoped no one saw, I was successful. <Besides,> I told myself as I started to open my eyes. <It's not like we did any intimate activities last night.>
  
  "Oh," the woad-marked woman muttered blearily. "That Wes. Right." I saw her shape turn as I tried to blink the fuzziness out of my vision. "Give me a moment. By the way, Wes, where did ye put me leggings? I can't find where ye threw them at."
  
  Well, that snapped me awake.
  
  "I've yer shirt right here," she said, reaching down. My eyes began to take in her form, then I processed the fact that she had just told me she was naked, and that she had told me I was naked, and I still didn't remember much about last night. I looked away from her, because even if I wasn't a total prude, there was still a tiny fairy in the room who had just opened the window to let everyone outside, including God and the entire country of Canada, see just what was going on in here. I rolled backwards, bumped my head onto a nearby wall, and looked up just in time to see Merada grinning at me.
  
  "Wait, you're both actually clothed," Breena suddenly noticed. "That was mean, Merada."
  
  "Aye," she said. "Beg yer pardon, Wes. Couldn't help meself."
  
  I glared at the beautiful spear maiden, angry but relieved I hadn't forgotten about anything too awesome.
  
  "How did you know I wouldn't remember what we did last night?" I asked suspiciously.
  
  "Ye were tired and had depleted all the mana in yer brain," Merada answered good-naturedly. "Aside from that, I didn't. I just felt it was worth the risk."
  
  "Can I talk to you later, about why you were in his bed at all?" Breena asked.
  
  "Sure," the brunette said with a shrug. "Just not before breakfast. Later, big, strong Challenger. We should do this again, sometime."
  
  I heard Breena sigh as Merada flexed her long legs and sprang out of bed, leaving the room without another word. I muttered some complaints from under my breath and tried to rub the remaining stars out of my eyes.
  
  "Wes, I'm sorry," Breena said out loud. "Merada is… kind of a flirt. She doesn't know about the conversation we had earlier. I'll talk with her, and let her know not to confuse you or give you false expectations."
  
  "I appreciate that, Breena," I said, rubbing my hurt forehead. What kind of wood was this tree even made of? There were probably alloys softer than this crap.
  
  "Still shouldn't have given her your pants, though," Breena added frankly. "They're way too loose on her."
  
  "Wait, what?" I shouted, removing my blanket, revealing my normal clothes.
  
  "Gotcha," she said in a singsong voice, then flew out of the room, her voice trailing behind her. "That was fun! I see why she does it so much!"
  
  I groaned and decided to just give up on whatever it was I wanted out of today. I made use of all the necessary facilities to get myself ready for the day, then strolled out of the room, resummoning my armor, since it was my best clothing right now anyway. I reminded myself to look into that later. Since I was probably going to meet with Icons and rulers for my new job, I needed to have a set of clothing that didn't look it had been covered in blood thirty minutes ago.
  
  Breena redeemed herself from earlier by flying up to me holding a plate of food and carrying a cup of tea. I was about to tell her that I hated tea, but then I remembered what Guineve had done to redeem coffee and decided to give elven tea a chance.
  
  It tasted delicious, although the sweetness nearly made my eyes pop out.
  
  "Oh no," Breena said as she saw my face. "I didn't put enough sugar in it, did I? I knew I should have put in another kilo!"
  
  "No no," I said quickly. "It's fine. It tastes fine, really," I added, getting a little worried about Breena using the word 'kilo' to talk about how much white powdery substance she had put into my beverage. "Let's just sit down and eat. Have you already eaten, Breena?"
  
  "Yeah!" She brightened. "I had a couple dozen donuts, but I could probably eat again. Sure have missed fairy cooking. Don't tell Guineve, though."
  
  "Your secret is safe with me," I said slowly, scanning the village for a nearby cardiologist. I figured there weren't any, since no one was already walking up and shouting at me for being a bad friend.
  
  The food was good. Really good, in fact. Elvish crepes just might have become my new favorite thing. As I ate, though, I watched Breena, finally remembering just how many times I had woken up last night.
  
  "Hey Breena?" I asked as I watch the tiny fairy sway as she sat on the table. "How are you feeling?"
  
  "Huh?" she asked, distracted. But then her eyes opened. "Oh!" she said excitedly. "I actually feel really great! I'm back in the Woadlands and I got to see Petal and Cauli and all the other little sprites I hadn't seen in forever and—" She broke off into a long, wide yawn. "And we're finally getting to work on Trials and Tumults and stuff like we're supposed to, so that's super exciting too." She blinked, and rubbed at her eyes. "It's just taking a while for all the 'tired' to wash out. I might be a little out of shape."
  
  Not one word about the fact that I had kept her up all night with my screaming and nightmares.
  
  "Breena?" I said. "Thank you."
  
  "Huh?" Her wings twitched as she cocked her pink-haired head at me. "You're welcome, but what'd I do?"
  
  "Take good care of me," I answered. "I keep forgetting that I have the best friends."
  
  "Aww, that's sweet." She beamed, and more of the fatigue left her cheerful face. "Thank you, Wes."
  
  "You're welcome," I said, then I figured now was the best time anyway. "Can I show you something?"
  
  "You found something?" she said, perking up some more. "Where? What was it? Wait—" Her eyes suddenly narrowed. "You're saying you found something? Drat." She took a deep breath. "Okay, Wes, how bad is it? How much science does it break? Does gravity still work around it? How many seals on it did you unlock before you realized you found it? All of them? Or just a couple?"
  
  "I don't…" I started to say, then trailed off under her glare. "Okay. I get it. I'll own it. But what I meant to say was that I made you something." I pulled the stick out of my dagger's storage space. I had trimmed it as best as I could using woodcraft and Shaping Magic, but as I handed it over I suddenly saw dozens of tiny errors I never noticed any of the times I had checked before.
  
  I laid it on the table and Breena floated cautiously over to it.
  
  "A stick? Um, thank you, Wes," she said slowly. I winced.
  
  "Yeah, sorry," I said, suddenly feeling like my gift was the dumbest idea in the world. "I just… well I saw it… and then I saw you watch the other fairies…"
  
  "Other fairies?" Breena asked, still confused. "With a stick… Wes, the other fairies didn't try to make you play 'fetch' for them, did they? Because they're supposed to know better."
  
  "No," I said quickly. "I didn't even know that was a thing fairies did." Not that it surprised me one bit now that I thought about it. "I was talking about in the Horde lair. The other fairies and their wands."
  
  "Oh," she said. "Okay. That makes way more sense. Wait…" Her eyes widened. "Are you saying you tried to make me a wand?"
  
  "It seemed like a good idea at the time," I offered lamely. "But I didn't really get your opinion before I acted, so I'll understand if you don't like it..."
  
  She held up a hand as I started to ramble, staring intently at the small rod. She muttered what I gathered to be one of her detection spells, and then her eyes widened again.
  
  "It works," she said, surprised. "The magic's stable. The application's a tad rough, but not in a way that affects anything important. And it hasn't been wielded by another user, so I could bind my power to it easily." She looked back up at me, eyes wide with shock and gratitude. "Did you say you found this? No," she corrected herself. "No, you didn't. You said you made this for me. When did you even have time?"
  
  "It uh, helped me fall back to sleep to work on something," I told her. I still wasn't a hundred percent sure whether I was dealing with shocked happy Breena or shocked 'I can't believe you broke the world again' Breena. Both her expressions and the mindlink were being spectacularly useless in helping me figure that out.
  
  "But you just found out yesterday that I wanted a wand," Breena said, still staring at the green stick. "You wouldn't have had time to find the materials. Speaking of which—" She looked closer at the stick. The enchantments had turned the veins in the wood to a subtle, purple color. "This is fantastic material to use. Where did you even get this?"
  
  "It's from the Chaos Wound tree I ran into when we first got here," I answered. "When I scanned it with my Blood Magic, I found that it had a lot of useful properties. I wanted to try and do something with it."
  
  Breena blinked.
  
  "And you just thought of me?" she asked, still in that neutral tone that didn't let me know whether she was mad or happy.
  
  "Yeah," I said carefully. "I know you the best out of anyone. It would feel wrong to start with someone else."
  
  "And you just thought of me," Breena repeated, and her eyes sparkled with a wet shine. "You didn't even know that I wanted a wand. You didn't even ask."
  
  "Well, Lady Titania, the fairy Icon, used a wand, so I figured I had precedent. It just seemed like something you might want."
  
  I finally felt a torrent of gratitude and joy pour into me from Breena's mindlink. The little fairy flew into me, knocking through the remains of my breakfast and tackling my neck. She had grown to almost four feet as she did so and it was enough to knock me off my seat.
  
  "I LOVE YOU, WES!!!" she shouted into my ear.
  
  The landing didn't hurt, so I just held my breath until she finished squeezing my neck and nuzzling my cheek. I very carefully patted her on the back, feeling relief when I didn't twitch out of any weird and stupid hangups. She gave me one last squeeze before she flew back on top of the table and pointed her wand upward.
  
  "I wanna try it out!" she said in a single breath. She gave a quick look around. "Am I clear? Yep, I'm clear! Safe enough! Let's try a basic test!" She closed her eyes and began to glow. The pink light traveled downward and into the wand itself, concentrating around the veins in the wood. "Success! It'll take me! It'll work! Ha ha!" She jumped up excitedly and began buzzing straight up and down. "Next test!" she called out in a loud voice. "Stay clear! Fire in the hole!"
  
  <Oh crap,> I thought. <I broke the Breena, and now we're all going to die.>
  
  But she just sent a fiery dart straight up and into the air, the simple kind I had seen her use before. Those never killed anything on their own. Unless she used a whole lot of them they were nothing but harmful inconveniences, like toys with 'ages three and up' labels.
  
  This dart, though, flashed into the air as a blazing, star-like ball the size of my fist, which was currently the size of Breena's head.
  
  "Yes!" she shouted. "Over five times total improvement! Fantastic! But does it work with everything?" she asked, looking puzzled for a brief moment. Then she snapped her fingers and pointed her wand out again. "Fairy light!" she commanded. Sparks shot out of the tip of the wand, bright enough for me to look away and cover my eyes. "Five times the intensity again!" she shouted. She looked around again, realizing that she was starting to draw a crowd. "Right," she called out in a calmer tone. "Sorry." People nodded and began to walk away.
  
  "Just two more tests, everybody!" she called out loudly. "Just two more, and then I will maybe calm down! Next test! Healing magic!" Her eyes darted around, finally settling on one of the elven soldiers nearby. "You there!" she shouted. "You still suffer from injuries!"
  
  "It's just a nicked finger," the soldier said as he leaned away from Breena. "I cut it while sharpening my knife. It should heal on its own in just a few minutes."
  
  "Nonsense!" Breena shouted. "You've suffered enough! And I require your participation! Corrective Flow!"
  
  Just shouting the spell's name and flourishing her new wand was enough to activate the magic. Before the poor wounded elf could dodge out of the way, a tiny ball of water splashed over his fist. He cried out, but as he pulled his hand back, he started blinking.
  
  "Gone," the guard said. "The cut is completely closed. And nothing else is wrong," he added, hurriedly patting himself to make sure he hadn't changed colors or gained an extra limb.
  
  "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Breena kept shouting, flying around me. "Healing magic is amplified too! This'll let me fix intestines in minutes! Gosh, a healing blast from this could probably put a guy's colon back together!"
  
  <What-have-I-done-What-have-I-done-what-have-I-done…>
  
  The thought played through my brain in an endless loop. Breena didn't seem to notice.
  
  "Last test, people!" Breena shouted, still shaking with excitement. "And then you can have the rest of your day back! Clear the airspace above the table! Gonna do the big spell test!"
  
  With that, she flew straight up, glowing brightly to mark her position.
  
  <Um, Breena?> I sent through the mindlink, to make sure she hadn't snapped from all the excitement. <Are you okay?>
  
  <This is so fun!> she screamed through our link. <This is so fun! This is so fun! This is so—hold on, gotta concentrate!>
  
  "Okay!" the tiny voice called from high in the air. "Final check in three… two… one! Fire in the hole!"
  
  There was a bright flash as Breena tore the sky open with a lightning bolt even bigger than the one I had enhanced via script magic. As the bolt dissipated harmlessly into the air, Breena began to race back downward, giggling hysterically all the way down.
  
  "It works!" she laughed. "It works! It's the perfect battle wand and I finally have one after like a thousand years and I'm NOT EXAGGERATING but it works and it's the bestest wand ever and thank you Wes and oh! Hey!" She came to a complete stop. "Naming ceremony time!" She pointed her purple-pink glow-stick into the air. "I hereby declare that I am Breena, fairy of Challenger Wes Malcolm, and this! Is! My! Boomstick!"
  
  There was awkward silence, followed by a round of polite clapping from anyone too scared of the little sprite to be seen leaving. The other fairies were the exception, though. They called all the other sprites over and began cheering for 'aunt Breena' and telling her 'finally!' and 'it's about time!'
  
  My beautiful tiny friend beamed as she basked in the congratulations of her fellow sprites (and completely ignored all the terrified looks from everyone else). Eventually, though, she fluttered back over to me and gave me a hug.
  
  "Wes," she said as she hugged me. "Gonna try again."
  
  She opened her mouth a couple of times, closed it, and sighed.
  
  "Knit and darn it. One of these days, though. Until then, just let me tell you you're the bestest Challenger ever."
  
  "Thanks, Breena," I replied, patting her on the head. "You're not so bad yourself."
  
  After that, the rest of the commotion faded. I turned to see Merada walk up to me.
  
  "I just got word from one of Titania's guard. They're coming to take the rescued prisoners somewhere safe and to take us to a meeting point."
  
  "Meeting point?" I asked. "That's a bit vague."
  
  "Aye," Merada said uncomfortably. "I think they mean it to be."
  
  "Guess I can tolerate that, since they still need to verify my identity," I replied, starting to turn. "I'll go let the Gaelguard and the Testifiers know."
  
  "About that," Merada said. "They were hoping to meet with ye alone, first."
  
  "Did they say why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "You mentioned their needing to verify my identity. Won't my people help do that?"
  
  "I told them that as well," she answered me angrily. "They said it was for security reasons."
  
  In other words, they were trying to control me.
  
  We were getting off to a real bad start.
  
  "Alright then," I said firmly. "If you're still in contact with them, tell them their request is denied. Because I don't feel secure meeting them alone, either and I'm not letting them dictate terms to me. I'll go get my people together."
  
  "Thank ye," she told me, touching my shoulder as I started to leave. "I've missed having someone help me stand up to them." She met my gaze as she spoke. "I'll be standing with ye, too."
  
  "Yeah, and so will I, Wes," Breena said as she fluttered over. "Sorry about earlier. I've pretty much settled down, now. I should be able to do most of the talking."
  
  "Thanks, Breena," I replied.
  
  <In truth, though,> I thought to her, including Merada in the mindlink conversation. <Shouldn't you by yourself be proof that I'm who I say I am?>
  
  <Yes,> she began, <but I think there may be something else going on, here. I think the Icons are scared that Stell is gone, and are trying to gain a sense of security by controlling the situation.>
  
  <That's pretty much it,> Merada muttered. <I'll help ye round everyone up.>
  
  When the Icons' guards arrived, we were all waiting for them. They looked up and blinked at the number of people behind me, taking in the presence of the Testifiers, the woad tattoos of the virtually Gaelguard, and above all, Breena.
  
  "It's her," one of the fairy guards muttered, a larger male that wore light armor. "Lady Breena."
  
  "Yup," Breena replied with a wave. "Brought the real thing with me, too. Hiya Birch. How's Daisy and the kids?"
  
  Some of the guards in the back began whispering. As I looked at them, I realized that they were mostly elves and large male faeries. All of the guard wore some kind of light mail with leaf-like plates over the torso, and they carried long thin blades at their waists.
  
  "They're well, my lady," the guard answered enthusiastically. "If we have time, they'd be happy to meet you, after we escort the potential Challenger to—"
  
  "Oh no." Breena shook her head sweetly. "I'm going with him. That's my job, remember?"
  
  The elves and fairies paused at that. I didn't think they were really expecting to see Breena with me. Why, I don't know, but they were clearly unprepared for the fact that she was with me.
  
  "We have our orders," one of the elves began uncomfortably. "Only the Woad Princess and the Challenger candidate meets with the Icons."
  
  "That won't do," Alum said as he stepped forward. "We're his guard, and we won't leave his side."
  
  The warriors behind him, including Weylin and the other Testifiers, all nodded and grunted in affirmation.
  
  "That shouldn't be a problem, then," I said coolly, looking at my 'honor guard.' "Because you're not here for me anyway, then."
  
  "I do not understand," the elf in front of Titania's guards said. "Forgive me, Challenger candidate—"
  
  "There," I replied. A note from my mindscreen told me that my noble Profession and Path of Kings were both lending me assistance, pouring awareness into my brain "That there is the problem. I'm not a candidate. My status as Challenger is not dependent upon the Icons' recognition, or approval, and they've already given it earlier, anyway. Lady Breena, the Holy Fairy, is with me. Woad Princess Merada is with me. They both vouch for me. I have already acted in defense of the Woadlands. It was the first thing I did each time I arrived on this planet. I came here to help. If your Icons continue to insult me by suggesting that I might be an imposter, then we're done. I'll either head back to Avalon or work here independently, which again, is something I have the right to do as the Challenger of Avalon. You're going to have to decide right now whether you'll let my group move out as a whole, or if you don't trust me and can't work with me. Because if you or your leaders don't believe I'm who I say I am, then I'm not meeting with them. You'll need to go tell them that."
  
  Another awkward pause lingered for a handful of seconds, then the lead elf nodded his head.
  
  "Right this way, Challenger. Have your people follow us."
  
  <Now that was satisfying,> Merada said gleefully. <Be a dear and keep talking to them like that. It'll help me say 'I told ye so' more often.>
  
  <As you wish, my lady,> I replied as everyone broke into a run.
  
  The guards worked some strange kind of magic, and we began to travel quicker. The foliage in front of us bent, moving out of our way. It was just subtle enough to where, if I hadn't been looking, I wouldn't have thought we were doing anything different but traveling down a normal path.
  
  <Icon power,> Merada explained. <It helps their servants move back to them, or to their places of power.>
  
  <Like what the Hoarfolk used to escape me?> I asked suddenly, sensing a connection.
  
  <Mayhap,> Merada replied. <Theirs works much faster, though. And it only returns them to their palaces.>
  
  That explanation helped me understand my enemies just a bit better. I was still thinking of a way to exploit the issue when we arrived into a large, beautiful clearing that frankly looked just like every one of the other meadows I had come across since I left Earth. I was starting to think of them all as just eco-friendly conference rooms, but as I walked in I saw four figures I hadn't seen since my very first Challenge long ago.
  
  They were all massive, magnificent creatures, with the smallest of them still roughly my height. The largest was the Stag Lord, the antlered, mail-clad Icon lord of war and patron of many Woadkin tribes. Next to him was the largest of the female Icons, Mother Glade, an eight-foot-tall woman in a green gown with flowers sprouting out of her auburn hair. She was the patron Icon of plant life as well as most of the elven tribes. To her right was the Lady Titania, the silver-clad Icon of all fairies in the Woadlands and also the patron of magic for this world. Finally, Great Pan floated off to the side, reclining in mid-air and looking for all the world like a cross between Peter Pan and a giant, hornless satyr. I had no idea what his official portfolio was, but he seemed to be patron of just about everything the other three didn't want.
  
  They all regarded me with wary, cautious faces, save for Great Pan who waved and called out to me.
  
  "Enough of that," the Stag Lord rumbled in admonishment. Then he turned his head to look at me. "Are you the one we have been waiting for? The one we suspect to be Challenger Wes Malcolm?"
  
  I stopped walking forward, and held up my hand for my people to do the same. The giant bronze man glowered at the sight of my entourage.
  
  "You were supposed to bring him alone," the Icon rumbled to the guards, then looked back at my own party. "Merada, what is the meaning of this?"
  
  "Excuse me?" a tiny voice said from over my shoulder. "Excuse me?"
  
  Breena flew forward, her pink glow brightening to an intense level. Orange light began to mix in with it. "Honored Stag Lord," she said with an edge in her voice. "Is there a reason you are speaking so brazenly disrespectful to the Challenger of Avalon, and to the Steward's local Satellite?"
  
  "Took the words right out of me mouth, little dear," the fiery huntress next to me said. "Do me a favor and never change."
  
  The massive man's eyes widened at the sight of my bonded sprite.
  
  "Lady Breena, of Avalon. It is truly you," the Stag Lord answered, in a far more respectful tone.
  
  "The men and women with me are part of my Challenger retinue," I answered. "I brought them with me to lend aid to the Woadlands. But it sounds like you are still deciding whether or not to accept my help."
  
  <The Challenger's Path of Kings is engaging,> my mindscreen said. <The Challenger's Role of Lord is also engaging.>
  
  I was going to need both of those powers to help me argue with demigods. We were off to a bad start and I knew it, but if I let them order me around then they'd just use me to make the same mistakes they had been making before. Fortunately, though, I wasn't the only person worried about the way things were going. Lady Titania fluttered her wings as she glided forward, giving me a small curtsy as she did so.
  
  "Welcome, travelers," she said in a musical voice as everyone began to take in the woad tattoos on my Gaelguard, especially Mother Glade and the Stag Lord. "And please excuse our wary attitude. Our world has been in need of the Challenger for some time, and we have had to deal with many a false savior over the past few decades. Know that I recognize you, Challenger Wes Malcolm, as the man who has now rescued my children on two occasions. Please accept my thanks."
  
  "Your gratitude is appreciated and accepted," I answered. "Now that you have affirmed my identity, perhaps we could begin discussing how to save the Woadlands."
  
  "We can," the Stag Lord rumbled stubbornly. "If you can explain where you have been, while people from your world have been ravaging our own."
  
  Lady Titania sent the Stag Lord an admonishing look, but the giant Icon did not back down from his aggressive stance. So I matched it.
  
  "Where have I been?" I asked with a raised voice as I walked forward, matching his gaze. I had battled and slain Raw-Maw less than a month ago. I was done being intimidated by possibly divine beings that were nowhere near as omniscient or omnipotent as they looked. "Where have I been?" I repeated, still raising my voice and walking forward. "Screaming and bleeding," I growled, "but thank you for asking. You see, Avalon was invaded first. Long before the corrupted Earthborn and their allies struck your world. I battled the first team to come in. I battled the beings that brought them there. And I battled them alone, save for the Steward's help. What has been fifty years for your people has been months of capture and torture for myself. I have broken free, freed the rest of the Malus Order's captives, driven off their forces, destroyed their strongholds and access to that world, and restored some semblance of order back to Avalon. That's what I've been doing. But where are my manners?" I said, lowering my voice. "How have you all been doing these days? Getting enough sleep and exercise, I hope?"
  
  "Have a care, Challenger," the Stag Lord growled at me, as the other three Icons looked at me with shocked faces. "The problems now plaguing our world come at least in part from your own. And probably through the same means you came here."
  
  "No, they did not, honored Icon," I said, addressing his point while doing my best not to turn this into a bigger shouting match than it already was. "The Steward of Avalon is not the only being that is able to contact my world in any matter but her Calls. Our enemies came here with another's aid. I do not know exactly how." I chose not to mention the specific name of the being in question because I had no idea if the local Icons even knew what an Umbra was, and I didn't want to start a panic if they did. "As to your people dealing with bad Earthborn now, tell me just how many centuries you have had where someone from Earth showed up to fix all of your problems, and then left without taking a reward of any kind, except for a tiny fraction of the power he or she had earned on their own. You have been getting the very best of Earth for an untold period of time." The heat entered my voice again, good intentions notwithstanding. "Yet when an Earthborn and his Steward come to you for aid, saying a dark power has invaded Avalon itself, you send us nothing. I have still come to offer your people aid, but know that I am not the one who owes an explanation right now."
  
  The Stag Lord inhaled through his nostrils, but his expression softened and he did not answer me right away. Great Pan actually looked a bit guilty, slumping instead of reclining in mid-air. Mother Glade stepped forward before anyone could say anything else, putting a hand on the Stag Lord's shoulder as she walked past him.
  
  "Honored Challenger," the stately Icon said as she walked forward. "Please let me apologize on my brother Icon's behalf. Know that both he and his champions have borne the brunt of the cost in the war that has gripped our world for this last century. His anger is nearly as great as your own. Let me be the one to give you the apology you deserve. We did receive the Steward's request for help. I promise you, Challenger Wes Malcolm, had not a literal war among Icons broken out at that very minute, we would have all answered to lend aid. Please know that it was not intentional."
  
  "Noted," I answered, letting the heat drain from my voice. "But please forgive the next question: what other help did you try to send? Since the Steward came here herself, you could have sent your heroes, champions, magicians, even a small army if you wanted. Please tell me what aid you tried to offer instead."
  
  There was a brief, uncomfortable pause.
  
  "The Lady of Avalon did not ask for other type of aid," the Stag Lord said, but without any of his previous belligerence.
  
  "Okay," I replied thoughtfully. "But did she say that she didn't want any other kind of aid? Did you try offering her something else, and she refused?"
  
  Another moment of awkward silence followed my question.
  
  "No," Merada finally said flatly. "She didn't. And they didn't offer."
  
  "Right, then," I said next. "Breena, Merada, I have to ask because I'm unaware of the exact agreement Stell made with the Icons of each world. Was there any agreement for mutual aid?"
  
  "There was," Breena said in a hurt, disappointed tone. "Avalon is to assist in any Challenge at the Trial or Tumult level, either via Satellites or by summoning a Challenger from another world. In return, in the event that Avalon is ever attacked itself, the Steward has the right to call the other worlds for aid, with the personal guarantee that the Icons would aid in any fashion possible. Avalon also has the right to occasionally request needed resources from other worlds," Breena finished, not looking at anyone. "Though the only times Stell actually did that was to transfer a resource to another world that desperately needed it."
  
  "That was wrong of us," Great Pan suddenly said. His feet touched the ground, and he looked at the other Icons, his cheerful expression now completely gone. "It's been so long since we made that pledge that we didn't even remember it. We just assumed Avalon would always be there. That the Steward would never need help herself." He looked at the other three giant beings. "So when she needed help herself, we didn't believe her. What could happen to the Steward?" He shook his head. "We thought it was some kind of joke. She came to us in the form of a young girl, barely a woman, whispering about a monster that had been hunting her from beyond the stars. Her story sounded outlandish. We didn't believe her, and we were facing actual problems of our own. We assumed her need could not be anywhere nearly as great as our own. We decided we would deal with her small problem the moment our own issue was taken care of. But we were too late."
  
  "And because of that," I answered, "her problem became too large. For all of the worlds."
  
  The normally mischievous Icon nodded, with a face full of guilt.
  
  It was a convincing display. Maybe even genuine. But I couldn't afford to be affected by it.
  
  "Do you understand," I said to the whole group, "why I did not agree to meet with you all by myself? Why I am offended by your so-called scrutiny, when my mindscreen already informs me of your opinions regarding my actions? You wished to retain control of the situation, and of myself, in Stell's absence, yet you have not acted in good faith. You have not kept the agreements you made."
  
  "No," the Stag Lord replied slowly, "we have not. In our fear, we have become both paranoid and arrogant. I am ashamed. I believe we are all ashamed." His antlered head swiveled to face Breena and Merada. He stepped forward and knelt down on one need. "I, the Stag Lord, Icon of the Woadfolk tribes and Lord of War, repent of my behavior concerning the Steward of Avalon. I have not answered her call for aid. I have not given her Satellites the proper respect that they are due. I mourn and apologize for my behavior."
  
  Breena's and Merada's faces tightened, but in the end, they nodded. My throat tightened at the sight of it all. These jerks had been caught red-handed. But they hadn't even realized what they were doing. And then, when confronted and forced to react regarding behavior they hadn't had time to develop an opinion on, they didn't get defensive at all. They didn't make excuses. They didn't claim that the rules didn't apply to them. They didn't even deny my accusations and insist that I was a liar with an agenda. Except for some posturing at the beginning, they accepted the fact that they had been wrong, and made no excuses for it.
  
  They sounded just like mature, reasonable adults. Instead of the people in charge back home. I wanted to punch them for it.
  
  "Alright, then," I said. "Since we're all currently acting like grown adults, can we agree to work together to save this world?"
  
  "I do not know," the Stag Lord sighed.
  
  <Stop twitching,> I told my eyebrow. "Please explain," I asked, using my polite voice.
  
  "It may be too late, Challenger," Mother Glade said quietly. "The rival Earthborn have been far too cunning." She shook her head. "We have never had anyone who was actually willing to work to create a Tumult on a world. Their strategies took us by surprise, especially when they began to Descend, as monsters did. The speed of their growth was terrifying even by Challenger standards. They would strike us at key moments when we were on the edge of reversing the Tumults on our own, causing just enough damage for us to fail, and then use our failures to Descend even more quickly, and flee through their portals before our stronger forces could intercept them." The Icon shook her head sadly, closing her eyes as she continued speaking. "Truth be told, Wes Malcolm, your rival Earthborn excelled at this as if they had been born, forged, and made to prevent other people from achieving their goals. They undid centuries of hard work effortlessly, and they benefited from it to a degree that even Dark Icons had trouble believing. We must face the facts, Challenger Wes Malcolm. You are up against a whole host of others that can draw on a power even greater than your own."
  
  I sighed.
  
  "I'm sorry you feel that way," I answered her.
  
  "We all feel that way, noble Challenger," Lady Titania said softly. "Truth be told, we no longer even have to worry about them. Now they only send their yeomen here to collect and organize deliveries. Even if both Tumults are ended successfully, even with the power we gain from overcoming them, this world will still not survive. The tribes were unprepared for a second winter this late into spring. New plants and wildlife will die. Especially after the damage of the Chaos Wound."
  
  "What are ye talking about?" Merada shouted angrily, stepping forward. "Ye said we had spare stores! Ye said ye were working on a fix for the problem!"
  
  "We did." The fairy Icon nodded. "And in hiding the truth from you, we have wronged you again. We beg your forgiveness, Woad Princess."
  
  "This is ridiculous!" Breena snapped. "Stell left precautions! She strategized with you all! Surprise famines were literally right at the top of the list as a thing to provide contingencies for! There is no way you don't have several contingencies right now!"
  
  "Your words were once true," Mother Glade said. "But someone must have given the Earthborn that very same list." She shook her head again. "You must understand. Every other monster or race of monsters, even ones such as the Horde, Descend as a consequence of achieving their own harmful goals. Gibberkin and other monsters Descend by consuming sentients, but when they are full they do not seek to Descend. The Enslaving races Descend when they acquire and oppress slaves, but when there are no slaves to be had they do not seek to Descend in another fashion. But these Earthborn… they guessed at the strategies we would need for the planet itself to survive, and began undermining them all. Descending itself was their goal."
  
  "No it wasn't," I answered irritably. "They just recognized it as a fast track to power. Like I did with Rising." All of the Icons turned to regard me curiously. "And why wouldn't they do that? In fact, why doesn't every monster try to do that? The benefits for that kind of strategy are absurdly obvious."
  
  That comment apparently made them nervous. But after a minute, the Stag Lord cleared his throat to resume speaking.
  
  "Your observations, though… disturbing," he said carefully, "are astute. It is clear that you would have been an ideal general to battle the fallen ones of your world. But still," the giant antlered man sighed. "You are too late. Winter and blood have already come to the Woadlands, and they have taken too much life. We may somehow save a few of the tribes, but our decline has come."
  
  I sighed again. But before I could cure anyone's depression, a feminine, pitiless voice chuckled some distance away. I felt a cold wind blow on my back as I leaped to the side, spun around, and drew my shield and axe, hiding the weapon behind my barrier so that it would not be obvious that I was about to throw it.
  
  "Alert!" I shouted, but my people were already moving into position. As I looked for the source of the voice beyond the trees, the Gaelguard created a shield wall around our backs. But the woman merely chuckled again, sending another blast of frost toward us.
  
  "Come on out, Caill," Lady Titania commanded. "You clearly came here for a reason."
  
  "Oh," a deep woman's voice sounded out, "that I did. But I wasn't expecting so much entertainment."
  
  "I'll do a song and dance if you walk right up to us all," I offered, turning my head to quickly look at the four demigods behind me. Their stances were serious, but relaxed. Well, they were all somewhat relaxed. Pan still wasn't serious. Which meant this was a parley and not an attack. She had already passed up the opportunity to ambush us.
  
  A strong flurry of snow blew out from the trees to form some distance in front of us, circling near the ground until it created a complete ring of white, then spiraling upwards until it was clear it had formed the base of a dress or robe. The tinkling sound of ice crystals followed next, adding to the snow until it created a slender, imperious gown of blue-white frost, much like the clothing I had seen the Hoarfolk wear earlier, only more regal. When the flurry faded away completely I saw a woman roughly my height, with pale, colorless skin, wearing a long-sleeved dress and a triple-horned tiara that looked to be made of black ice.
  
  "Greetings, noble Challenger," the frost-colored woman said as she took a single step forward. Merada hissed to me, gripping her spear tightly. "I confess I wasn't expecting to find you here."
  
  "My invitation came at the very last minute and I had no chance to RSVP," I replied sarcastically. "Why is she here, Icons? And why are we not attacking her?"
  
  The frost witch chuckled again. She had a deep voice for a woman, cold, but not emotionless. Just… hungry. Which was unfortunate.
  
  I had already had it up to here with freaky evil hungry women.
  
  "Oh? The noble hero of Avalon is actually this bloodthirsty? Huntsman, I think you might have something in common with this one."
  
  A deep, savage snort came from nearby. Once more the trees whispered as a horn blared in the distance. The next moment, a large, bare-chested man roughly the size of the Stag Lord stepped into view, naked except for a pair of boots, a furred loincloth, and an antler-horned helmet that dripped blood from the horns and completely shadowed his face. But the eyes that gleamed from inside perfectly matched the color of the blood on his horns.
  
  "I doubt this small, doomed thing could do anything but anger me. Greetings, brother," the bloody-horned figure added as he nodded at the Stag Lord.
  
  "We are no longer brothers," the equally large Icon said gravely. "Why have you come?"
  
  "How did he even find us?" I demanded. "Did you invite them? Because I have a problem with that if you did."
  
  Especially considering they wanted me to come alone. But all four Light Icons shook their heads. The frost witch let out her laugh again.
  
  "My, how he barks. Worry not, young Challenger, they did not know we were coming either. We were on our way to deliver a proposal to each of them and happened to detect their presence here."
  
  I turned to look at the four demigods I had a much higher opinion of twelve seconds ago.
  
  "Secure location?" I snapped. "Really?"
  
  "It is easy for us to find each other when we become corporeal," the Stag Lord said as he glowered at the other giant. "That is partly why we seldom do so. Let me introduce your enemies to you. The white witch you see is the patron Icon of the Hoarfolk and current sponsor of this Tumult, Caill Fuar. The other, the murderer, is the Bloody-Horned Huntsman, sponsor of criminals among every race and patron of sentient sacrifice. You can thank him for sponsoring the Chaos Wound's progress, and I believe you were responsible in thwarting the assistance he gave to the first Horde Pit in our world."
  
  "You're welcome." I nodded at the Dark Icon, as if I had graciously done him a favor. "Glad I can finally put a name to the face."
  
  "You were a wretch that came out of nowhere," the Bloody-Horned Huntsman growled. "And you ruined a long-term investment, one that would have let me pour far more power into the Chaos Wound than I am now able to. But that doesn't matter anymore. The Trial's progress is sufficient, and you are no longer my problem."
  
  "That's generous of you," I shrugged, still keeping my shield in front of me. "I appreciate it. Are we all ready to fight to the death now?"
  
  Six divine heads to turned to look at me.
  
  "I'm serious," I insisted. "They're here in corporeal form. And I know not every mortal here should participate, but the odds are at least five against two, in our favor. Is there a magically binding rule that says we can't attack them?"
  
  "Five against two?" Caill Fuar tilted her head. "I see. He does not count the Steward as strong enough to oppose us, based on her performance in the last war."
  
  "Crap," I said suddenly, glancing at Merada guiltily. "Sorry Merada, completely unintentional and I promise I'll work on it. Six against two. I meant to say, the odds are at least six against two. And that's not counting Breena or the rest of my people who might be strong enough to interfere."
  
  <Should I have included you in my count, Breena?> I sent her worriedly.
  
  <No, Wes, I'm fine,> she sent back. <You're doing great.>
  
  "You were including yourself in that count, little Earthborn?" Caill Fuar smiled. "At your Risen age? How droll. I'd keep you for a pet, if you weren't already doomed by the Horde. But no, it is an unspoken rule that Icons will not attack each other in moments like these."
  
  "Indeed, arrogant wretch," the Huntsman rumbled. "We came here to discuss terms. But I will happily show as many deaths as you think you can stomach, if you insist on provoking me."
  
  "That's cute," I answered the bloodied barbarian god. "And in response to your point—" I turned to Caill—"I have zero respect for formalities regarding beings who are literally trying to destroy a world. And you don't want me as a pet. I'm not past the teething stage right now."
  
  <Heh,> the new guy snorted. <I like that one.>
  
  "We will protect you if they attack, Challenger," the Stag Lord rumbled, still glaring at the Huntsman. "But they will be able to flee if we force them into combat. We will hear your proposal, Fallen Icons."
  
  "How reasonable of you," Fuar replied. "Hear our request, oh lofty ones. This world is finished, and the Earthborn have played all parties. Our Challenges have caused far more damage than they were supposed to, and far more quickly. We will not gain even half the power or usable territory for our followers that we had been hoping to gain. I know—" she spread her robed hands—"you do not mourn our loss. On the contrary, you feel we should suffer more, for everything we have taken from you. But what if we were to stop taking?"
  
  "You would never stop taking," Lady Titania replied. "Indeed, that is one of the key differences between your Court and mine."
  
  "So nice of you to remember that we are kin, sister fey." Fuar gave another cold smile. "Let me be more direct: Gather as many as your tribes as you can, and take your people off of this world. We will not pursue."
  
  "I do not believe you," Mother Glade answered.
  
  "I do not blame you," the white witch replied. "But the truth is that you will not be able to save all of your people. We will lay claim to the ones you are forced to leave behind, as well as the rest of this world. That will have to be enough, as the Earthborn are starting to show signs of turning on us and we need to be ready to deal with them."
  
  "Even if we were to somehow use the ancient Pathways to travel again," the Stag Lord replied. "We would have no guarantees of safe arrival to wherever they led. But beyond that is the simple fact that we do not accept your reasoning for not pursuing us."
  
  "Oh, that's actually true," Caill Fuar replied, sounding as surprised as everyone else was, myself excluded. "I've been keeping track of the negotiations. Now that our Cataclysms have run most of their course, the Earthborn have gradually become less and less respectful. They have not honored the original terms they negotiated with us, constantly changing what they had agreed to provide at the very last minute."
  
  "Really?" I said, trying to sound as surprised as possible. "On my planet we always had a sheet of paper people are afraid to disobey to keep anyone from trying that."
  
  "Your world doesn't have any magic," Caill Fuar scoffed. "Much less script magic. They were, however, masters at finding ways around our traditional oaths. I have to say I'm rather surprised, Challenger. With the way the rest of your race is, it's a wonder Avalon's Steward even thought to look for beings worthy of wearing Avalon's mantle on that world."
  
  "We're not all bad, despite what we like to tell ourselves," I tried to say casually while still keeping my shield up. It was starting to get uncomfortable holding a weapon behind it in this position. "And I doubt you weren't trying to double-cross them as well."
  
  "Oh, naturally," the frost queen replied. "But as soon as they had the power to oppose us in combat, the Malus Order began to break the terms on a level I had thought would trigger the bindings for sure. In fact, that Pit you raided the other day?" I kept my face completely deadpan, urging my entire team to do the same through the mindlink and Breena's subvocal whisper magic. "Just before you attacked, they drove away my representative, providing him nothing and saying our deal was no more. That was why he refused to aid them when you attacked the Pit."
  
  "I didn't see any enemies but the Horde and the Malus Men," I said carefully. "Your representative didn't even show up. Which means you're lying about the rest of your proposal."
  
  <Really, Wes?> Breena hissed.
  
  <Shush,> I sent back. <It's worth a try.>
  
  "I must say that the amount of confidence in this one is marvelous, Titania," Caill Fuar said offhandedly. "Does he even know what hunts him? No?" she asked when the other Icon didn't reply. "I'll give that information for free in a moment. But since my word is called into question, know that I, Caill Fuar, hereby swear that my ambassador's report was as exactly as I described." Power crackled around her, and everyone else hissed in shock. Then she continued speaking. "The Earthborn betrayed him, and by extension, me, and they announced that they would no longer provide the slaves and resources we needed. They even taunted him by pretending to offer more, before they let him leave with nothing. You should have seen how angry he was."
  
  <Holy boiled star-bread…> Breena began, <he covered for himself and she didn't catch it.>
  
  <Deadpan, people,> I reminded everyone. <Give nothing away.>
  
  <Aye,> Merada said, <but I can hardly believe it. He lied to hide his blunder, and now it comes to benefit us. That means she doesn't know anything about what you told him.>
  
  "Can we trust that oath?" I asked Breena and the Icons behind me, all of whom nodded.
  
  "There," the white witch continued, "I trust the Hunter and I can still negotiate in good faith now?"
  
  "You can, but we're going to refuse," I replied, stepping forward. I dismissed my axe a moment before, because I could resummon it in a heartbeat and there was no point standing like that forever. "Avalon's Challenger is here. They're done losing to your people."
  
  Bloody-Horns snorted again, crossing his powerful arms. "Big talk for a young Earthborn boy that has never seen an Icon in combat. We can read your Risen level, little one. We know you to be far from ready to handle a Trial, much less a Tumult. You won't even need to fight us to fail."
  
  "And it's quite odd that you think you will even have the time," Fuar added. "Or is that why you fled here? To escape your fate back on Avalon?" She looked curious and amused to me. I did what I had been doing and pretended to be a dumb, young, and inexperienced male.
  
  <That last one's not pretending if we're still a virgin,> Teeth pointed out.
  
  "What do you mean?" I asked the Dark Icon, still looking like I didn't believe her. "Avalon's fine."
  
  "Stupid prey," Bloody-Horns scoffed. "He doesn't even know who hunts him."
  
  "Don't blame the poor boy," the Hoarfolk Icon admonished. "He doesn't understand just how much he has angered the Lord of the Lost Deeps."
  
  "The who?" I asked, curious.
  
  "The Dragon Icon, and chief of all Hordebeasts," the other Dark Icon replied. "He who rose to Icon status and seized an entire world away from the Steward of Avalon. You have apparently offended him, little Earthborn. I pity you for your fate."
  
  "Tell me why I should fear an Icon that can't even leave his own world?" I asked in contempt. Both of the other Icons just laughed.
  
  "I have no idea whether or not he can leave," Fuar admitted, "but he doesn't need to deal with you personally, Challenger. He has a whole Pantheon of Dark Icons in his Court. He even has the power to raise up new ones. Something he has done specifically for you. Have you not heard of the skinless wolf that hunts you?"
  
  <The time dilation,> I realized. That was why no one realized I had already slain Raw-Maw. That event was a mere two days ago on this world, even though I'd had over a week of training back on Avalon. <Don't grin,> I told myself. <Keep acting foolishly cocky.>
  
  "I'm sorry, but I'm not a little girl in a red hood," I replied, watching them blink as they tried to understand my reference. "I'm not afraid of a big bad wolf."
  
  <Wait,> Breena said. <Isn't he called that in the Three Little Pigs?>
  
  <Just roll with it,> I replied. But the Dark Icons were laughing again.
  
  "Proud, proud fool," the Huntsman scoffed. "Let me inform you, then, that the Raw-Mawed Wolf is the Icon of Hunting Wes Malcolm. He has no other responsibilities. No other means to gain power, and followers. His sole purpose is to find you, and to trap, capture, or kill you himself if he is able to. The closer he comes to finding you, the more powerful he becomes. The more damage he does to you, or to even the things you care about, the more powerful he becomes. By the time he gets to you he will be strong enough to devour a being of your Risen level in only one bite. You are doomed to be his food, young Challenger. The only decision you should have left is where to die. Will you die on the Woadlands, our current world, and bring another Dark Icon to this vicinity, or will you return to die on Avalon, where he will probably strike first, so that you can spend your last moments watching your people be returned to the Horde?" Bloody-Horns turned his head to the four Icons standing behind me. "And this is the creature you are now putting your trust in? Consider our offer. Everyone wins. You get more survivors and a chance to find a new world to start over. We get this world and all the prey you must leave behind. You can even take your crops and livestock with you. You should. They're not currently enough to feed the tribes still resisting us, who will starve to death even if you somehow overcome the Tumults at the last moment."
  
  I felt the worried gazes of the Icons behind me, as they weighed this offer against the fact that they had no way to save the lives of their people at any rate.
  
  If I was in their place, I would have to think about this offer, whether I wanted to or not. When I saw Caill Fuar grin, I knew that the Dark Icon was coming to the same conclusion.
  
  <Malcolm, this is bad,> Merada sent me. <Even if they believe in you, this still may seem as the best of their bad options.>
  
  <Don't worry,> I thought back confidently to her. <I'll fix it in a moment.> I directed my mind at the Freaking New Guy I still couldn't get rid of. <Hey asshole, do you want to take over for a bit?>
  
  <Fuck you,> Teeth snarled back. <But yes. When?>
  
  <Wait for them to get ready to leave.>
  
  "But," Fuar continued with cold loftiness, "we of course understand this is not a decision to be made lightly. We will withdraw and give you time to consider your choices. You have until our next battle. My people are marching for what your people call the Bear-Paw River. We will arrive in five weeks. You may give us your answer then. Goodbye, brother and sister Icons," the white witch said, turning her back and beginning to shimmer back into snow. The Bloody-Horned Huntsman also began to turn.
  
  <Now?> Teeth asked.
  
  <Yeah,> I answered, <but keep it to just talking, snorting, or laughing. No attacking. Yet.>
  
  <Fine,> he sent back, and I switched to the passenger seat and let my inner dragon-slash-jackass do what he did best.
  
  I started chuckling, loud enough for them to hear me. Then I started cackling. Both Dark Icons paused, giving me one last, curious look over their shoulders. Then I threw my head back and began roaring with laughter. Caill Fuar raised a blue-tinted eyebrow as she looked at me.
  
  "My apologies," she said to the Light Icons behind me. "It seems I broke your Challenger's mind on the way out."
  
  "Yeah," I snorted as I kept laughing. "Totally your fault… Raw-maw… that's hilarious…"
  
  "Is it?" She tilted her head again, with a fey's curiosity. "Do humor me, and explain why."
  
  "Well," I snorted, trying to rein in my laughter. "I mean… have you even seen the guy?" I brought my antics down to a chuckle. "He looked ridiculous!"
  
  Now the Huntsman turned at my words.
  
  "You are claiming to have seen him?" he scoffed.
  
  "Yeah," I said, down to a light snicker. "Mostly white fur. Too large to use most fire exits. Also had a fur-less, fleshy mouth, which gives him his name. I personally wouldn't have wanted that for an identifying feature, but it wasn't my decision. But what I really had a problem with," I added, dropping all of my antics and getting dead serious, "was that his fighting potential sucked." I spat the last word out. "I'm serious. If you two battle at that level, then I really am taking you both down right now. I mean it. He was that bad."
  
  There was another moment of silence, this one with an exasperated tension to it, because everyone was getting tired of the outrageous crap that kept coming out of my mouth.
  
  Fuar looked up at the other Icons, her semi-divine face looking genuinely confused.
  
  "Did he just insinuate that he already battled an Icon?"
  
  I risked a quick look behind me. Mother Glade and the others were speechless. Pan just gave Fuar a baffled shrug.
  
  "Why?" I asked. "Why do you not believe me? Should he have been unable to find me by now? Was the guy supposed to be really bad at his job?"
  
  "You are over a dozen Rises too soon to survive your first battle with an Icon, Challenger," the Huntsman growled. "Even a nascent one such as the Raw-Mawed Wolf."
  
  "I just described him to you," I replied in an even, quiet voice. "I should have no knowledge of what he looks like, if I hadn't met him yet. But I did. And now he's dead," I added flatly. They scoffed at me again, but I ignored it. "But you know what his real problem was?" I asked, leaning forward. Then, I activated just enough of my dragon bond to enlarge my teeth and gain a second row of them.
  
  "He tasted terrible," I finished, snapping my fangs together. Then I retracted my teeth to their normal form. "So, yeah. Not afraid. Not worried. But you guys can still go if you want."
  
  But nobody moved. They all just kept staring at me.
  
  "You're bluffing," Fuar finally said, blinking rapidly.
  
  "Your claim is impossible, both to do and to prove," the Huntsman said solemnly. "I would not believe you even if you swore a magic oath in affirmation."
  
  "That's fine. I didn't kill him for you. I don't need you to believe me. Quick question though," I said, grabbing the mail over my leather tabard and raising it slightly. "You're an Icon and a self-proclaimed huntsman, so I was wondering if you could tell what animal this came from?"
  
  "You can't tell what kind of animal just by…" The horned giant's angry voice trailed off as he stared at the leather under my mail. "Icon. That hide was made with the energy of an Icon."
  
  "He tasted like kale," I replied as I stared the demigods down. "I don't know how that was possible, but it's true. Maybe the energy of every Icon tastes that way. But Raw-maw's secret didn't lie in his tracking skills, or his magic, or his physical might." I pointed again at my tabard. "His real strength was that he makes a fantastic jacket. I mean, check out this swag. Both warm and fashionable. Right?"
  
  They didn't answer me.
  
  <Swag?> Wrong-me asked. <Really?>
  
  <Hush and don't be jealous.>
  
  "We actually have an answer for you already," I continued. "Go ahead and show up at that river you guys mentioned, that Bear-Paw, or Chicken's Foot, or whatever. Bring your entire army. Both of you. So that we can tell you no, and we both can end this whole war right then and there. You can even come early if you want. We'll be waiting. And I'll be hungry—" I bared my teeth again—"and probably ready for a new pair of boots."
  
  Fuar stared at me, all mirth gone from her face. The temperature around me dropped a few degrees with that glare.
  
  "You overstep with your threat, Challenger," she said frostily. "Do not pretend you will dare to do what no other Challenger has ever—"
  
  "Bitch I eat people," I said, before she could finish. She gazed at me for a moment longer, and then vanished into ice and snow. There was a sound of a horn, and when I looked over the Bloody-Horned Huntsman was gone as well.
  
  <How was that?> I asked Wrong-Me, still hating that I needed to work with the insecure idiot.
  
  <That was actually perfect, thanks,> Wrong-Me sent back. <Great job.>
  
  Gratitude and approval emanated from his side of our body, and I felt repulsed.
  
  <That's it,> I snapped. <If you're going to get weird, I'm done. Take the reins again.>
  
  I crawled out of the driver's seat as fast as I could, so that I would have enough energy to stop Wrong-Me from doing something stupid later.
  
  I stayed as still as I could while I waited for Teeth to surrender control. Afterwards, I turned around to look at the crowd of people and Icons staring at me.
  
  "That was," the Stag Lord began, slowly, as if he had trouble searching for the right word. "Effective," he finally said.
  
  Merada and Lady Titania were both giving poor Breena angry, incredulous looks.
  
  "Your new Challenger is a cannibal?" the fairy queen demanded.
  
  "Ye let him eat people?" the Woad Princess shouted. "Blood and thunder, Breena! Ye had one job!"
  
  "It's not her fault," I said, holding up my hand. "It's a side effect of the dragon bond an ancestor of mine underwent. The power is activating now, and so are the habits that come along with it. But so far I've only eaten things that would have either eaten me or harmed someone else."
  
  "A dragon bond," Great Pan said, nodding in comprehension. "That makes perfect sense, then. Thank you for explaining."
  
  Everyone else seemed to relax at my words as well.
  
  <Really?> I thought angrily at Breena. <I play the dragon-race card, and now my behavior is socially acceptable?>
  
  <I don't know what to tell you, Wes,> Breena sighed to me. <Stereotypes are still a thing, okay?>
  
  "Back to the matter at hand, Challenger," the Stag Lord said solemnly. "Your courage is admirable, but it may have doomed us all. Our losses have been great. Even if we pool our forces together, we will still be overmatched when we come to battle."
  
  "No, actually, that won't matter," I replied. "In the first place, because Fuar was lying about where she is going to attack. They'll be attacking the Three-Arm River, not Bear-Paw. And they'll be attacking a week earlier than she said they would."
  
  "How do you know this?" Mother Glade asked intently.
  
  "Because her ambassador lied in his report," I answered. "He thought I was one of the Malus Men and spilled all of the details when he tried to negotiate with me. Then he covered his story with Fuar to save his skin. And since the Malus Men really have been screwing around with her so much, she believed him."
  
  Great Pan started laughing. The other three Icons shot him a disapproving look.
  
  "That does give us an advantage," Lady Titania said, "but the problem of starvation remains for all of our people. Even the sprites," she added sadly. "The late frost has killed too many crops, animals, and other sources of mana. The mutations from the Chaos Wound has corrupted and prevented their regrowth. Our peoples will still starve at the end of this year."
  
  "No they won't," I replied firmly. "The Steward is coming with more food. And even if she can't make it, I brought about a thousand pounds of food and the seeds to plant more. If it's still not enough, then after the Tumult is conquered, I'll go back to Avalon, get some more supplies, and come back here with enough food to make sure your tribes make it through the next planting season."
  
  "Can you truly do all of that?" Lady Titania asked curiously. "Challengers do not normally possess that degree of authority, to command such resources from Avalon."
  
  "This one does," Breena nodded confidently. Merada and the Icons looked at her curiously.
  
  "Why?" the Stag Lord answered carefully. "Did the Steward command Avalon to grant him this degree of authority?"
  
  "No," Breena said simply. "But he can do so for the same reason those dozen Woadfolk in Woadfather tattoos have been standing quietly behind him all this time."
  
  Four glowing heads swiveled over to examine my retinue. The Gaelguard had been muting the glow of their tattoos to look like normal Woadfolk, but as the Icons watched, Alum gave a nod and the dozen warriors suddenly lit up.
  
  "Gaelguard," Mother Glade breathed. "Their kind has all but died out, like the Woadfathers." She looked at me. "Where did you find these men and women? And why do they follow you?"
  
  "They were in stasis inside of an ancient structure on Avalon," I answered. "And I will let them provide their own reasons for following me."
  
  I looked at Alum, and he nodded and stepped forward. He raised a fist over his heart, causing his tattoos to flare brighter for a moment as he answered the Icon.
  
  "Greetings, honored Icon. We follow Lord Wes Malcolm to fulfill the obligation of the Woadlands made long ago to the Lord of Avalon. Avalon itself has bestowed the mantle of authority to this man, and so we raise our shields in service to the new Lord of Avalon."
  
  At that moment I realized everyone was getting tired of all the surprises I had brought with me today. Mother Glade began blinking.
  
  "There hasn't been a Lord in Avalon since before our time," she said carefully. "The existence of new Gaelguard is impressive, but can the Challenger provide further evidence… of this… claim." She trailed off as I unbuckled Breaker and held it up its handle and scabbard. I then transferred the weapon to one hand as I resummoned Toirneach into being.
  
  "Will these work?" I asked needlessly. "I know they're both really old, but I'm assuming you still have some knowledge about them. Especially this one—" I waved the legendary axe around in a circle—"since it came from your world, anyway?"
  
  "That is the lost axe of the future king of the Woadlands tribes," the Stag Lord sighed. "Icons themselves have coveted that weapon, in order to unite the entire planet under one force. But it will fly from the hand of an unworthy wielder." He stared hard at me. "You say you found this weapon on Avalon, and that the world truly recognized you as its planetary lord?"
  
  "I did," I replied, "and if you want official witnesses—" I motioned to the Testifiers, and all three stepped forward. I saw their eyes settle on Weylin, who looked at me and gave me an apologetic shrug.
  
  <Yes, famous family,> the elf admitted privately. <They went missing long ago exploring the site of an ancient Challenge. I don't like to talk about it.>
  
  "Honored Icons," he then said, turning his attention to the four demigods. "We have been with the Challenger ever since he helped us escape from the Malus Men's dungeon. We have borne witness to all of his recent acts, including the recovery of the Woadlands weapon, the discovery of the Woadfathers and their Gaelguard, and the announcement from Avalon itself proclaiming him to be the rightful Planetary Lord. Rest assured that all said events have been…" He trailed off as the three of them prepared to recite their traditional oath.
  
  "Witnessed in script," Karim began.
  
  "Witnessed in song," Weylin dutifully added.
  
  "Witnessed in stone," Eadric finished.
  
  "Therefore," Weylin continued, "know that Lord Malcolm's claim has been verified by representatives of all three colleges of our order."
  
  "Well, damn it all," Great Pan quipped. "Let's just all agree to do what he wants, before he pulls out another surprise, shall we?"
  
  "What is the rest of your plan, Earthborn?" the Stag Lord asked tiredly. "And please, no more surprises."
  
  "Too late," I said as I dismissed the axe and summoned the Woadfather seeds. "I don't owe you these," I said darkly. "I'm already here to clean up a mess the rest of you made by not honoring your part of the pact. These are two of the Woadfather seeds I possess. I have more. I have the resources to help you recover hundreds of previously lost trees, herbs, and other fauna. You're worried about being able to recover? I can help the Woadlands undergo a period of discovery and prosperity, without counting what will be gained from ending the Tumult or Trial. But if I do that, the four of you, and your associated chieftains, elf lords, and fairy queens all submit to me. I won't ask for much. I want the Woadlands to prosper, just as you all do. In fact, I really don't want anything beyond a few trade deals and your promise to aid when I call for help, whether it's to aid Avalon itself or another world under attack."
  
  "That last one has never been done," Mother Glade interjected.
  
  "From what I can tell in the unsealed ruins of Avalon, yes it has," I rebutted. "But even if it hasn't, understand that your world is in this state specifically because evil people from another planet have been attacking, sabotaging, and subverting it. And they're good at it, because they practiced all the time back on their own world, where no one really had the power to stop them, because unlike you all, Earthborn don't gain any power for doing the right thing. Until now." I pointed to myself. "The only way you're going to win, and stay winning, in case they decide to come back, is to get a leader that understands how they think, and use it against them. I did that on Avalon, and I can do it here. So here are your options," I concluded. "Listen to me and my directions, and agree to do so in the future. You'll have the permission to offer input and request aid, and I swear I'll do my best for the Woadlands, and give you as much autonomy as I reasonably can. I'll also provide resources to you, such as seeds to plant new Woadfather trees. I can give you these two right now if you agree to help. I have a whole grove of Woadfathers. If we put our heads together, we could probably find a way to bring back a Woadfather Monarch. That's your first option. The second is to ignore me and to try to find one of the ancient Pathways and escape with your people, like the Dark Icons were offering, even though I just told you that she was lying in her offer, and both Merada and Breena can back up my story. I'll give you five minutes to think it over."
  
  With that, I turned and walked away to give them space to discuss. My people followed me over.
  
  "Bitch I eat people?" Val asked, walking next to me and giving me a side-eyed glance. I just shrugged.
  
  "Seemed like the right line for the time. Can't claim I came up with it though."
  
  <Damn straight,> Teeth said smugly.
  
  <You actually can't claim it either,> I told him sadly, remembering an ancient cartoon parody.
  
  <Wait, what?> Teeth sputtered. <No fair! I was gonna get it on a t-shirt and everything.>
  
  <Yeah, well too late.>
  
  "So what will we do if they tell you no?" she asked. I shrugged again.
  
  "Try to save the world without them. If we can't, we'll haul as many people back with us as I can fit through the Pathway. If we win, I yell at them, withhold all sorts of cool stuff from them, and probably still take as many people as I can fit through the Pathway."
  
  "They won't say no." Breena shook her head.
  
  "Aye," Merada agreed. "They won't like it, but ye have too much on yer side. They'll try to hedge first, though."
  
  "Hedging's fine," I decided. "My goal is to save lives and not get stabbed in the back. I'm not looking to take their jobs any more than I need to."
  
  And that was the truth. I didn't want to manage an entire extra planet. They could keep it.
  
  "By the way," Merada said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "Thank ye."
  
  "You're welcome," I said with a grin. "But we're not out of the woods yet." I gestured to the forest around the clearing, hearing at least several groans at my horrible pun. Merada shook her head, but was still smiling.
  
  "Ye got us this far," she insisted. "So thank ye. Yer a good man, and good men don't hear thanks often enough."
  
  "Neither do their friends," I said as I smiled back, looking around. "Everyone, thank you for following me through disaster after disaster. I couldn't ask for a better team."
  
  At that moment, one of Titania's servants flew toward us.
  
  "The Icons are ready for you to hear their decision, honored Challenger."
  
  My people and I followed her back to where the Icons were standing. The Stag Lord nodded, and began speaking for the other three.
  
  "We have agreed to submit to your counsel, Challenger," he said, and I noted his omission of any noble title, despite my earlier words and the ability gained from my Profession. "Should you save us from this disaster, we will go one step further, and recognize your claim upon Avalon. At that point, we would like the opportunity to negotiate what that means for the Woadlands."
  
  "That's fine, though I won't change my terms," I replied. "Now, I believe you said that you were going to follow my directions?"
  
  "Yes," the Stag Lord replied after a pause.
  
  "Okay," I said, "bring me up to date. I've heard a bit about how the Frost Tumult is slowly and inexorably sweeping its way through the Woadlands, but what has the Chaos Wound done?"
  
  "The Chaos Wound has migrated and mutated to one of the Primary groves of the Woadlands," Mother Glade answered. "It is currently bound to one of the remaining Woadfathers in our world, and it is corrupting plant and wildlife at a rapid rate. We have attempted to strike it, but the Malus Men have reinforced the site with a variety of monsters, including Horde, and the Bloody-Horned Huntsman himself guards the site. We have been able to keep the corruption from spreading, but striking into it has resulted in losses. Since the Bloody-Horned Huntsman guards the place himself, we are prevented from using our might as Icons to destroy it directly, and in truth such an act would overtax our corporeal forms, allowing Caill Fuar, or even the vestiges of previously destroyed Dark Icons to finish us off, and then bring about the Woadlands' defeat."
  
  Right, I reminded myself, it was hard to kill an Icon permanently. Except when you eat them, apparently. But enough of that.
  
  "So you know the location of the Trial's center, you just don't have the resources to destroy it yourselves," I clarified. The antlered giant nodded.
  
  "Were it the only Trial, I could rally our armies, battle my brother directly, and allow our heroes to confront, overwhelm, and destroy the Chaos Wound themselves. But it would be costly," he admitted. "And I would need my fellow Icons to defend me from attack while I recuperate. Our losses and my diminished strength would prove to be our undoing when the Hoarfolk attacked."
  
  "Alright," I said. "What if a small, tightly-knit team were to strike at the Chaos Wound themselves while you held off the Huntsman for us?"
  
  "If there was still such a team left, it could work," the Stag Lord admitted. "But the strongest of our heroes are all spread among different tribes, unused to working together. And many of those who did band together have lost too many people. We would simply be feeding the Chaos Wound with their corpses. And I would be drained from transporting so many warriors myself. I would no longer be a match for my brother."
  
  "What about my team?" I asked. "We just took a Horde Pit apart yesterday, with no losses. It was led by an enhanced Spawn and two of his brethren." I pointed to the Gaelguard behind me. "How well do the heroes of old stack against the heroes of today?"
  
  "Very well," the giant man admitted. "There are a few chiefs and champions that surpass them, but for their size…" He pondered for a moment. "They may be the strongest force left in the Woadlands."
  
  "Send them," Merada said, stepping forward. "I've had time to speak with them. To figure out how to merge me Woad magic with their own." She turned to look at me. "Let me lead them for this. I can magnify their tattoos with me own. And I can bring me own guard to reinforce them, like we did before. This'll work, Malcolm," she insisted, looking at me.
  
  "Rumor has it that you can no longer resurrect, Challenger," Mother Glade spoke up. "Are you truly willing to risk both yourself and the Woad Princess if this mission fails?"
  
  "No," I answered bluntly, and Merada's face darkened. "But I have to. Every day our foes get stronger and we get weaker. It's time to hit them with our very best or we have already lost," I announced, and Merada's scowl lifted.
  
  <Much better,> the huntress sent with a sniff. <Next time lead with that.>
  
  "I will still be too weak to battle Bloody-Horns if I transport you all," the War Icon announced reluctantly. "And Mother Glade is spending her energy slowing the damage to the land caused by both great Challenges. Lady Titania must also spare her energy for resisting her fell counterpart."
  
  "Let me come with you, then," Great Pan said, as he sat back down in the air.
  
  The Stag Lord slowly turned to regard him.
  
  "Are you sure?" the somber Icon asked the other carefully. "You have… other responsibilities." The female Icons both nodded at that, which was a bad sign.
  
  <Um, Merada?> I sent. <What's going on right now?>
  
  <Pan be a bit difficult to work with,> the Celtic huntress said privately to me. <Always changing a plan a bit at the last moment. Always has time for pranks. Even the fairies think he be a bit much.>
  
  <Can he do the job, though?> I asked.
  
  <Oh, certainly,> Merada sent. <He'll just make it randomly embarrassing for someone. Probably you.>
  
  <I can live with that,> I decided. I've had people be actually mean to me. Calling me cripplehead, or a pedophile's brat. Harmless teasing was nothing.
  
  I walked up to the talking Icons. Great Pan seemed happy, while the other three were wearing resigned, defeated expressions.
  
  "Pan and I will go, Challenger," the Stag Lord announced hesitantly. "I will be the vanguard and engage my former brother, but you must rely on Pan to power your transport. I will understand if—"
  
  "If you get us there and back with no difficulties, I'll have a drinking contest with you after the world gets saved," I said to the mischievous Icon. "You will be the first creature in the entire Expanse to have ever seen me, Wes Malcolm, Challenger and Lord of Avalon, drunk. If I pass out during that time, I'll let you draw on me without punishment. In fact, I'll have a copy of the drawing preserved for historical purposes."
  
  "Hail to the rightful Lord of Avalon!" the hooved Icon suddenly boomed.
  
  <Great Pan's opinion of you has improved,> my mindscreen informed me. <The Icon now recognizes your claim to Avalon's throne and pledges his allegiance to you. This is conditional upon you keeping your earlier promise.>
  
  "Fantastic," I said dryly. "Let's get ready to leave. I want to hit them immediately, before they've realized we plan on attacking. Is that possible?" The four Icons nodded.
  
  All that was left was to put our plan in to action. Merada's team of fairies had remained close by, so they were reintegrated, along with a few of Lady Titania and Mother Glade's champions. I saw Petal fly up to Breyn and smile shyly at him, and saw him smile shyly back, before his mother walked over and began scowling. The two quickly got back to checking their equipment and magical spells. As I did the same, I walked over to the nine-foot-tall Icon responsible for our passage.
  
  "Hey, Pan," I asked quietly. The glowing satyr turned and grinned at me.
  
  "Finally, someone willing to shorten my title. What can I do for you, Lord Challenger?"
  
  I removed Carnwennan from Breaker's scabbard.
  
  "This white-gripped dagger can shroud me and my people. I'm wondering if it can somehow mask our presence as we enter in. What do you think?"
  
  The Icon's boyish face widened in surprise.
  
  "If that is the weapon I think it is, then I suspect our little endeavor just got a great deal less desperate. My powers merge marvelously with items of subterfuge. We will be able to enter deep into the Wound's territory before anyone notices."
  
  "Great," I replied. "I'll let my team know."
  
  "Er," the trickster Icon hedged. "That would actually weaken the effect. You see, I was being rather literal when I said 'anyone notices.' If you start telling members of your team, my magic will be affected and we will no longer be able to take advantage of the Dagger of Avalon's holy shroud."
  
  "I can't leave my team unprepared," I protested.
  
  "Nor should you," the Icon said carefully. "But I don't think that will be an issue." He pointed to his left. "Do you see how Mother Glade's entire guard is pulling your people over to whisper to them in hushed, urgent tones?"
  
  Sure enough, all of the locals were giving each other these incredulous 'are they seriously doing this, I can't believe it and we're all going to die,' looks, all while pulling my teammates over and whispering what looked to be a twelve-step survival plan into their ears.
  
  <Hey, bro?> Val sent me. <Just so you know, the locals are saying that using this Pan guy is the worst decision you've ever made, and that we need to be super-prepared for literally anything, because things will go certainly and horribly wrong. Do you know anything about that?>
  
  And that there, was the problem with working with family on things like this.
  
  <Nothing I can say,> I sent back carefully. <But I think their ideas are practical. Go ahead and be safe. Expect trouble as soon as we land.>
  
  <Grrr,> my fourteen-year-old adopted sister sent back, who, all things considered, had been doing a fantastic job of handling everything. <Fine. But if things get too bad, I'm totally going to yell at you afterwards.>
  
  <Yup,> I noted through the mindlink, saying nothing more. Fortunately she didn't pry and went back to checking her gear and refreshing her Shadow Magic spells.
  
  <My tattoos are fully resonating with yer Gaelguard's now,> Merada sent me. <We be as ready as possible.>
  
  Breena and the Testifiers all gave me similar ready checks. Everyone's magic was refreshed. Everyone's weapons and gear were ready. I did a double check over my own gear and enhancements, paying special attention to my Blood Magic spells since they were probably going to be the most relevant.
  
  After one final check, we gathered around Great Pan, with myself in the circle with him, and the Stag Lord standing just outside of it. I held out my scabbard, with Carnwennan in its sheath, gripping the handle while the Icon put his hand over the pommel.
  
  "Everyone form a chain of hands," the hooved Icon commanded. "Those closest to the Challenger should put their hands on his shoulder, while those farthest should touch the shoulder of those in front of them. Then, close your eyes." The rogueish face grew serious. "When you open them, you may find yourselves in the fight of your lives."
  
  "I will be your escort," the Stag Lord rumbled. "I will draw the ire of the Huntsman and his retinue. When you land, make haste to the center of the Chaos Wound, for every moment counts."
  
  We nodded as we all did as they directed. I felt Carnwennan's shroud swirl as it contacted Great Pan's power, and the experience terrified me. Not because of the Icon's vast might.
  
  It was because Carnwennan felt like it could swallow whole the Icon's power, if I just had the strength and skill to wield it properly.
  
  But that sensation quickly passed, and we were all wrapped in a comforting, slightly ticklish presence. Our eyes remained closed, but tiny dots appeared in my vision anyway. I felt like each dot represented a member of my current warband, Icons included.
  
  I saw our dots soar into the air as one, clustering around myself and the trickster Icon. We left behind the dim impressions of trees and began to whip through the air. I felt behind us a great, hungering cold, stripping away all of the light and life in the distance behind us. I felt brave men and women of all three races—Woadfolk, elf, fairy—battle hard against the furry shapes in the encroaching cold, but slowly give ground to it nonetheless.
  
  <Don't worry,> I thought silently at the Tumult. <You're next.>
  
  And on we soared, flying past the land below. I saw the tall trees of the Woadlands, and wondered what they'd look like when the giant Woadfathers once again grew in their midsts.
  
  As we flew onward, gradually the land began to change. I saw more Woadfolk and elves stationed on the ground, forming patrols, standing in trees and lookout towers. A few more feet, and I saw bare patches of earth, as if trees and shrubbery had been pulled free and dragged off to the direction we were going. A few more feet, and I began to see weeping trees, dripping blood and swaying in unnatural directions.
  
  <We grow close,> the Stag Lord warned. <Prepare for combat.>
  
  <Oh, they will,> Great Pan whispered smugly. <Or at least, they will be more prepared than anyone else.>
  
  <I dread what you might mean by that,> the Stag Lord replied, but pressed no further. The fact that he knew to do so was probably the mark of a good leader.
  
  The trees grew more and more deformed, the Chaos tumors in them more evident. A horn sounded, and a voice suddenly boomed through our ears.
  
  "You have returned early, and alone, brother," the Bloody-Horned Huntsman said in a solemn voice. "Have you come for some sort of secret meeting, perhaps? Or have you come alone to settle the private matter between us?"
  
  I felt all of the lights around me twitch in surprise.
  
  He couldn't sense us.
  
  <Go,> the Stag Lord's light said quietly to our own, and we barreled forward.
  
  Behind us, I saw the light representing the Stag Lord flare out into a full-fledged bonfire.
  
  "You have wrecked and damaged my world, my people, and my once-fond memory of you beyond all repair!" the Icon's voice boomed. "I refuse to let you profit off of my people's demise! I reject the offer you have made in bad faith, and demand you accompany my world into the grave!"
  
  In the distance, we heard Bloody-Horn chuckle in contempt.
  
  "Finally breaking under the strain, brother? I wondered when this day would come. You are a leader of prey, not true hunters! Come, let me see if I can finally show you the difference between the Stag and those who consume them!"
  
  A blood-red light appeared before us, but it ignored our presence and flew toward our escort.
  
  "Come, hounds!" Bloody-Horns boomed. "We go on our greatest Wyld Hunt yet!"
  
  Another horn sounded, and a torrent of howls and bellows answered the Dark Icon's call.
  
  "Bring all the help you dare, False Horn," the Light Icon called out from behind us. "It will not make the difference for today!"
  
  The two blazing balls of power and heat clashed together, shaking the air we flew in. I was suddenly, painfully made aware of the difference between a weak, nascent Icon such as Raw-Maw and the two ancient, powerful behemoths behind me. But I couldn't let that distract me. The Stag Lord had given us the best opening we would ever get.
  
  <Stay close and silent,> Pan cautioned, and we flew deeper into the bloody woods.
  
  Through the weird shadow-bond Pan had formed between us all, I felt several people muffle gasps at the sight below. In this weird shrouded space, most of the terrain was still murky and hazy, but right below and before us we could make out details from the horrible shapes. The trees and other fauna were no longer just plants with a fleshy parasite attached to them. They now resembled something I would much rather spend the rest of my life trying to forget, instead of trying to describe. I saw a tree rustle to shake both branches and long bloody horns. I saw roots lift out of the ground with long, bear-like paws attached. One tree shook itself as if to wave at us, grasping with three-clawed talons at the very end of its branches.
  
  <The Wound is becoming more aware,> Great Pan told us. <I cannot take you much farther.>
  
  Shocked impressions washed over me, as people suddenly realized just how deep into the bloody woods we had gone.
  
  More shapes flew under us. These moved more naturally, suggesting that they had never been plants. But their bodies were still bloody and wrong, and yet… they felt familiar. One part of my subconscious recognized what they once were and felt revolted, but the other, darker part whispered that I should command them, that I should put them under my heel and force them to obey.
  
  There was only one specific group of creatures that would make me feel such things.
  
  These were mutated Horde.
  
  The final guard force of the Chaos Wound.
  
  And as one, their bloody, misshapen heads turned in our direction.
  
  <This is as far as I can take you,> Great Pan whispered through our link with him. <You have a little more than a hundred yards to go, Lord Challenger. I wish you success.>
  
  <Wait we're already near the source of the wound?> Breena demanded.
  
  <Yup,> I said. <Get ready to start wrecking stuff.>
  
  <But we—>
  
  The little dots of flame disappeared, and we all became visible. So did the rest of the world around us.
  
  We had only gotten a hazy view of it before. Everything beyond a few hundred feet had looked murky and hazy, making the mutated plants and trees suddenly jump out when they came into view. Now though, every mutated plant, tree, and beast was visible to the naked eye. We were literally surrounded by hundreds of tumor-faced Horde and hairy, rasping trees. Heads and limbs swiveled simultaneously toward our direction, and a sense of panic began to pound through the mindlink as everyone tried to process a hundred different nightmares all at once.
  
  A split-second later, I realized I was still in charge.
  
  I began shouting commands, pitching my voice to make use of the song magic Weylin had taught me. "Forward!" I called out, hitting the proper pitch to create a basic focus effect. "Don't look! Just kill! Kill and move forward!" I moved and alternated my pitch as I spoke, hitting the notes once more for focus, then courage, then focus again, alternating back and forth until people began moving behind me, following me like they were pulled by a string. "Forward!" I repeated, snapping a quick widen spell script through the air and punching a fireball through it. "Kill and move forward! We are a hundred yards away from going home!"
  
  My warband seemed to wake up after the fireball went off. They began slinging arrows and spells of their own in a tight wedge, killing enough warped Horde and plants to clear a trail. Just now, the monsters began to lurch after us. We had the element of surprise, and the changes wrought by the Chaos Wound made most of the creatures clumsy, letting us sprint for several dozen yards before they began forming a tight net around us. I sketched a quick, sloppy empower rune through the air and hurled my stored lightning bolt at a tree pulling itself toward us on four badger limbs, striking directly at the tumor where the limbs connected. The tree actually let out a creaking scream, but kept coming, pulling closer on its scorched, fleshy arms right until an Air-enhanced arrow from Weylin splattered the tumor apart.
  
  As we ran another dozen yards I saw the circle of monsters tighten, and I knew we would not make it. The Chaos Beasts were clumsy but incredibly tough. The mutated Horde took several times the amount of damage their normal counterparts did, and the trees themselves took whole volleys before they became inert. My own panic was starting to rise until I felt Merada tug at me through the mindlink.
  
  <The Guard and I can keep the way the clear for ye,> she sent, <but we won't be any good for the last dozen yards. Think ye can handle that bit on yer own?>
  
  <No,> I said as I looked up, seeing the massive, pulsing tree slowly coming into view. <But I won't have to. Testifiers, Val, Breena, you're all with me.>
  
  <Got it, bro,> Val sent to me. <Also, this is absolutely terrifying and I sorta hate you right now.>
  
  <Yeah,> Weylin chimed in. <What she said.>
  
  Before anyone else could complain about the gory hellscape I had led them all into, Merada opened her mouth and shouted out some Gaelic-sounding language that my mindscreen didn't translate. The Gaelguard all shouted back as one as their tattoos glowed brighter than I had ever seen. As I turned back to notice, I saw the tattoo on Merada's face light up again, for the first time since we grappled yesterday. She held her spear above her head in both hands as the glow from her tattoo spiraled up and down her entire body. That same glow mingled with the glow from the other Gaelguard until everyone seemed connected by tiny roots of light. Then, Merada took her spear and slammed it into the ground, letting out an eagle-like shriek as she did so. Then green fire geysered out from her entire body, covering the entire area around us, like a round dam that had burst in a hundred different directions at once. The fire incinerated nearby Horde and burned the plant-based tumors clean off of the trees they had gripped.
  
  <Hurry,> she sent tensely over the mindlink, and I needed no further encouragement.
  
  While Merada and the Gaelguard created their firestorm, the fairies and elves opened fire into the area just ahead of us, clearing the way for my small band of mindlinked warriors. I drew Toirneach and began cutting my way through mutated wretches, miscreants and mongrels until I could finally get a clear view of the Trial's source.
  
  <Oh, Icons,> Breena breathed, and I didn't blame her.
  
  Directly up ahead of us was the second-largest tree I had ever seen. The tumor-covered tree was half again the size of the normal Woadfathers back on Avalon, and as I watched, the reddened woad glyph suddenly pulsed, causing bark and tumor to creak, swell, and expand.
  
  "It's growing," Breena said softly to me. "It's growing into an actual Monarch."
  
  "I thought that was supposed to be a different species of plant?"
  
  "It is," Breena replied as we closed the final distance. "I mean, they're related, but still, you can't get a Monarch from a Woadfather seed. But this—" She shook her head as the tree expanded again. As it did so, one of the numerous tumors coating it burst open, and three mutated Spawn fell to the ground. Their bodies were coated with extra, discolored sinew, and their faces were masses of bloody, featureless tissue. They whipped their heads around, and the wounds on their face began to suck in air as if they were sniffing for us.
  
  <Gross,> Val sent in disgust.
  
  <Yep,> I replied, already tracing symbols through the air. <Kill them quickly.>
  
  This time, I had traced a large enough copy and empower symbols for Breena and Karim to fire their own lightning bolts through. While they did so, I poured my fingerbolts in next, then followed it up with my Friction Slice spell, casting it again and again until the script magic faded a few seconds later.
  
  One of the disfigured Spawn was shocked and sliced apart, another was injured from the chaining effect of Journeyman-level lightning bolts, and the final one somehow drew the blood from the dying Spawn's body into a burning orb in front of it.
  
  The fleshy mass on the Woadfather pulsed again, and this time we heard a voice speak from it.
  
  "Fleeeee," the massive tree creaked. "Noooo… king… here…"
  
  <That's a real bad sign,> I thought to Teeth. <Can we try to transform?>
  
  <No, damn it,> Teeth cursed in frustration. <Cavus burned us out.>
  
  I threw my axe into the burning blood-orb the center Spawn was still shaping. The orb splashed apart, sizzling all over the mutated freak, who went right back to reforming it, unconcerned for its smoldering flesh. Arrows and arcane bolts began to pepper it. To my left, I saw Eadric and Val sprint for the wounded Spawn, weapons drawn. The corrupted tree began to pulse again, and several dozen tumors swelled, each the same size as the ones that just produced the mutant Spawn.
  
  I was struggling to think of how we were going to handle over a dozen more Spawn when Breena called for my attention, speaking, tugging my shoulder, and sending mental messages all at once.
  
  "Wes," she said, eyes locked downward. "Look."
  
  Her wand was pulsing in sync with the corrupted Woadfather, alternating between pink and purple light.
  
  "Breena," I said quickly, remembering my earlier plan to transform. "Do what you did against Cavus."
  
  She hesitated for a split second.
  
  "I still don't know how I did that,"
  
  One of the tree's pustules ripped open, as a Spawn stuck its arm out.
  
  "I think I remember," I said gently, choosing not to scream about how every second counted. "You realized that you are brave, and beautiful, and that you wanted to take back something that was lost."
  
  He called out to her again, right at that moment.
  
  <Daughter,> the quiet voice said. <Use me. Seek what is lost. I rage.>
  
  I saw Val shudder out of the corner of my eye, as Shadow Magic wrapped around her.
  
  <Do it, Breena,> she sent over the mindlink, leaping into the air with Shadow-enhanced strength and slicing open the wounded Spawn's throat. <You can trust him.>
  
  Breena sighed, closed her eyes, and began to grow, glowing with the light she had shown with earlier.
  
  Her merger with Invictus was different from my own. She didn't begin shouting a chant about light or Ideal magic. She just grew to a size larger than Val and hovered above our heads.
  
  "Can you hear me?" she asked the corrupted Woadfather. "Do you remember what you used to be?"
  
  I heard an angry, hissing sound come from all of the flesh coating the giant tree. But a patient creaking noise soon followed.
  
  "Yes," the sentient tree replied. "Light. Used to have light… Miss light…"
  
  "You have been robbed and wronged," Breena said as she shined with a gold-pink light. She pointed her wand, her 'boom-stick,' at the largest part of the tumor coating the giant tree. "Give back what you have taken," she commanded, and then, pulling on a power whose source I couldn't sense, she fired a blast out from her wand twice the size of her human-sized body.
  
  The blast struck the centermost Spawn on the way, catching the top of the monster and utterly vaporizing its skull. Then it dug into the dirt, and I felt Breena strain and pull the pillar of golden fire upward, directly into the Chaos Wound. The tumorous mass bubbled and hissed in both anger and pain as clumps of it broke off and dissolved. The Chaos Wound quickly expelled more altered Horde, but Breena's wings began fluttering, blasting shards of sharp light into them. But I felt her strain, and I knew she could not keep this up for long.
  
  <Use me,> the quiet voice said to me next, <I rage.>
  
  I reached for the Soulcurrent, but instead I found myself grasping Breaker, in its blade-less form. The handle vibrated in my hand, pulling me toward the tree. I let it, flinging myself forward as fast as I could. The Woadfather quaked and swayed, but Breena had blasted a way clear for me
  
  "Miss… light," the giant tree croaked again, and the Chaos Wound hissed angrily at it. But the Woadfather strained, and a patch of burnt tumor suddenly fell off of it. "Here… take… buried… light."
  
  Breaker was pulling me directly to that patch. Using my Air magic's enhancements, I launched into the air, dodging a pustule of Chaos Wound that suddenly fired off of the tree at me. As I grew closer I saw a form indented into the patch of bark. One more leap brought me close enough to see that the figure was human-shaped, and what was clasped in his hands was the object Breaker was pulling me over to find.
  
  "Take… light," the tree begged. "Uncover… use… give… light."
  
  One more careful leap, and I was next to the patch on the giant tree.
  
  It was a human figure, either one of the ancient Woadfolk or a very muscled elf with a well-groomed beard. The body was regal even covered in bark, wearing a thin crown and some sort of segmented platemail. Clasped in the bearded lord's hands was a short blade, a little longer than the arsenic bronze short sword I had loaned to Alum.
  
  As Breaker buzzed in my hand, I knew that this blade in front of me was even older than my old short sword. It may have predated time itself, if such a thing were possible, but who would know if it was?
  
  Furthermore, a voice told me, this blade and its wielder did not belong in this tree. Entombing a body in a Woadfather was both blasphemous and harmful for the tree itself. And this blade should not have been covered up, an instinct growled inside of me. It should have been somewhere accessible, in case the Woadlands or its king had need of it.
  
  Whoever had entombed this ancient king and this blade here must have done so recently, with the express purpose of making sure it would not be easy to find.
  
  They had planted a bloody forest just to hide one blade.
  
  I couldn't get the warrior's corpse out at this moment, but my hand moved to the bound weapon on its own accord. If this sword got free, we all had a chance. We just needed to hope long enough to see the light. We just needed to…
  
  I trailed off of as Breaker's hilt touched the bark-buried blade. Light and sound cracked out from where they met, and as I fell backwards, Claimh Solais, the sword of light, leaped into my hand and imprinted its name into my mind.
  
  The weapon had taken Breaker's place, merging directly into the weapon on a level only Carnwennan had done. It was a sword with a thick, flanged guard, and a blade that flared out a few inches away from the hilt. The blade was a little over two feet long, longer than my dagger but not as long as my spatha. But as the sword of light, it didn't need to be long, the voice told me. Its purpose was to show light in dark, tight places, to make sure light traveled there, and to stab and hew apart any obstacles between the light and the hopeless people that needed it. I felt the bright weapon pleasantly warm my hand, telling me that at least some of the weapon's light brought heat as well.
  
  "Light…" the Woadfather groaned again. "Share… light."
  
  "No!" a bubble popped, and in that sick moment I realized how this Trial had gotten so strong, so fast.
  
  The Malus Men had somehow created a Horde Pit directly inside the Chaos Wound.
  
  Breena let out another powerful blast, scorching the massive bubble that housed the Horde Pit inside of it. Secondary bubbles popped all along the giant bubble's surface, but the Pit itself did not crack.
  
  "Hurry, Wes!" Breena cried out in a grated voice. "I can't finish this thing off on my own!"
  
  "Trial," another bubble popped. "Trial…aids…defeat… impossible…"
  
  "No," the suffering tree creaked beneath the Pit and Chaos Wound. "Use… more… light!"
  
  "On it," I said, suddenly knowing what to do.
  
  The longer I held Claimh Solais, the more I knew what to do. The Horde Pit and Chaos Wound were reinforcing each other on a level that not even Cavus could. They were both taking horrible damage from Breena's attack, but with every minute the blood-tainted woad glyph would pulse and undo some of that damage.
  
  That very thought told me what to do next. I leap-climbed my way up the Woadfather until I could reach the reddened woad glyph, and then I held out my new sword in front of the tainted glyph. The short blade flared up like a propane torch as it brushed up against the corrupted sap. The next moment, green light began to burst from the tree's mark.
  
  "Nooo," the Chaos Horde Pit shouted with another massive bubble popping.
  
  "At…" the Woadfather creaked. "…Last."
  
  Claimh Solais still blazed, bright enough to where I needed to look away. But out of the corner of my eye, I could see the woad sap in the glyph glow even brighter than before. The lines of woad sap all along the tree turned green as well, burning away the Chaos Wound's taint and causing big chunks of warped flesh to fall from the tree. Behind me, Breena sagged but redoubled her blast, pouring more light through her new wand and into the Pit-Chaos Wound hybrid.
  
  The Woadfather kept reacting to the light of my new blade, creaking toward it ever so slightly, the way a potted plant might turn its leaves toward the light. It stretched as it shifted, making my footing stumble as bark, roots, and branches kept expanding. I remembered that the Chaos Wound damaged plants the most not by changing them to something else, but by changing them halfway, giving them an incomplete form that was only useful for the Wound's purpose. The tree was trying to complete the change, but it seemed to sputter in its growth, as if it was lacking one final, crucial element to finish its transformation into a Woadfather Monarch.
  
  I was about to tell it to stop changing, to try and remain what it had been before it had been damaged, but the quiet voice stopped me.
  
  <No,> it said. <The plant can now only diminish or become greater. It can never go back to what it once was. So crown it.>
  
  <What?> I asked, baffled, as my footing continued to keep up with the shifting bark.
  
  <Crown it. Seek the lost. Then crown them. They will be kings. They will be queens.>
  
  <I will be king,> something in my own heart answered. <I will protect. I will prevail. I will be king.>
  
  <Crown them,> the voice repeated. <Seek the lost. Then crown them.>
  
  I knew what to do.
  
  Breaker had not lost its storage function when it merged with Claimh Solais. I still retained over a gallon of Woadfather Monarch sap within the weapon's storage space. I summoned the sap out of my weapon's handle, and the green liquid traveled through the bright light and directly into the Woadfather's glyph.
  
  The tree creaked again in response, and then continued expanding. The belt of flesh constricting it now fully broke off, burning up as Breena's light incinerated it. The main bubble holding the Horde Pit finally burst, and I saw Ball-ee leap out of the back of Val's bag and begin heading over to the spilling muck.
  
  "I… see…" the giant tree said behind me. "Thank you… fathers…"
  
  I turned my head back to look at the transforming plant, wondering if it was talking to me, the sap, or the voice.
  
  <All,> the voice said inside of me. <Crowning is fathering. Crowning is mothering.>
  
  <It's why I tried to crown you, son,> my father's voice suddenly swept through my mind, making me tear up and shudder all over, in spite of the storm of magic happening all around me.
  
  <And I will crown you as well,> the quiet voice promised. <Be king. And crown others.> Then the voice vanished before I could question, distrust, or argue with it.
  
  "I…" the tree creaked again, growing and shifting still, shuddering one final time. "Am… whole."
  
  Then the massive tree went still. I sighed and lowered myself off of it.
  
  I had wanted to get a better view of the tree and the battlefield, but one final obstacle got in my way.
  
  "Usurper," the mist said as it drifted from the dying Pit. It loomed over me in the shape of a multi-headed winged dragon, much like the one that rose out of Raw-Maw's corpse. "You have broken that which you cannot even comprehend. This will destroy you. This will—"
  
  I swung Claimh Solais out in front of me. A blaze of light leaped out from the weapon and swirled into the nearby phantom in a slash-shaped beam. The beam tore the misty dragon in half, and as he dissipated, I inhaled.
  
  "False king!" the dragon screamed as the top part of its torn form drifted into my open mouth. "I will bury you under a mountain of angry gods!"
  
  <Nom-nom-nom,> Teeth answered as I felt my own dragon consume the angry vestige. <Also, shut your digested ass up.>
  
  <Language,> I admonished just because I could, before turning my attention back to the battlefield around us, counting off the members of my team. Val and Eadric were still standing next to the mutated Horde they had killed. Karim and Weylin had turned their fire outward, onto the remaining enemies, but it seemed a formality at this point. The death of the Chaos Wound's central mass had caused the secondary tumors controlling its forces to dissolve and melt off. This affected the trees immediately, depriving them of both the means and desire to murder us. The Hordebeasts' integration with the Wound had been even deeper, so when their tumors fell off it took much of their bodies with them. Karim and Weylin were left with just putting the monsters out of their misery.
  
  <Everybody's pretty much okay, Wes,> Val informed me. <Merada's got some wounded with her, but Ball-ee is already on his way over to them. Breena's a little tired, but the Ball-ee that just came out of the Pit is watching her.>
  
  I turned and saw Breena resting on a pile of leaves the new smaller copy of Ball-ee had somehow dragged over, back to her smaller size and completely drained.
  
  "Di-rec-tive?" the little ball of jelly squeaked, bumping into my fairy companion. "Rest? Sleep? Heal?"
  
  "I will if you stop touching me," the little sprite moaned. "Wes, making me do that a second time has completely tired me out. I'm sore and if nobody's dying, I'm going to bed right now."
  
  <Merada, are we really okay?> I sent worriedly, while at the same time wincing at Breena's choice of words.
  
  <Aye,> the Woadwoman replied. <A whole lot of us would've died if ye had taken five minutes longer, but now yer little jelly be treating the worst of the wounded. They all won't be fighting tomorrow, but at least they'll be breathing.>
  
  <Great,> Breena told us, and promptly fell asleep.
  
  She was right, I decided as I scooped her up in a spare cloak. If the fight was truly over, then everyone had earned a rest. Then I remembered two demigods were still battling somewhere, and bit back a loud oath.
  
  Speaking of which, a blood-curdling roar sounded out from the distance as the Bloody-Horned Huntsman finally felt the loss of power from his sponsorship of the Chaos Wound.
  
  "Impossible!" the Dark Icon snarled audibly from miles away. A loud boom sounded afterward, and I gained the impression that the Stag Lord had suddenly gained the upper hand. "Subterfuge? From you, brother?" I felt a powerful awareness turn toward my direction, and then a horn blasted like it was right next to my ears. "I will take their lives before I take my leave!"
  
  A blur of power rushed its way towards us. Its presence made my head swim, and I fought to clear it. I summoned Toirneach again, raising it along with Claimh Solais as I faced the last foe of this Trial.
  
  "No," a creaking voice said behind me. "You are not king here."
  
  I turned and saw the new form of the Woadfather for the first time. The wooden monolith had doubled from its previous size, with leaves and branches that spread out just now to make a canopy covering over a mile of the forest. One massive branch swayed to move in front of us, disrupting whatever attack the Dark Icon was projecting at us. "Begone," the new Monarch said in its creaking voice, and the new woad glyphs covering its bark all flared together at once, sending out a combined beam of green fire. The beam spiraled outward to strike an invisible figure dozens of miles away, one who roared in pain and agony several moments later.
  
  "CHALLENGER!" the Huntsman roared. "YOU HAVE MADE A SWORN ENEMY TODAY!"
  
  <The Bloody-Horned Huntsman now views you with abject animosity,> my mindscreen informed me uselessly.
  
  <Hypocrite,> Teeth thought as the Dark Icon responsible for nearly destroying this world retreated into whatever haven his kind rested in after nearly being destroyed. <You better run. Or you'll see if we don't kick your ass in a couple more Rises.>
  
  Speaking of which, power began to thrum and whirl about inside of me. For a moment I felt as I could have undergone several Rises at once, but then I felt something lock down on me again, something try to restrict me once more.
  
  <ERROR,> my mindscreen projected.
  
  ─ Previously corrected algorithms are once again attempting to subvert the Challenger's natural increase in power. Further accomplishments may be necessary to overwhelm unauthorized restrictions. Further examination by the Starsown or Avalon itself may be necessary to determine the algorithm's origin.
  
  That was annoying. We had done well here, but I needed to be able to Rise soon, because my enemies were still growing stronger. I would have to find some other way to grow—
  
  <Update,> my mindscreen beeped again.
  
  ─ A Chaos-based, Trial-level Challenge has officially been overcome by the allies and inhabitants of the Woadlands. Both the source of the Trial as well as the Dark Icon sponsoring it have been removed from the world. Power will be gained by all parties as well as the planet directly, reversing harmful mutations and applying beneficial ones in their place. Crops will become more durable, produce more yield, and provide more benefits upon consumption. Animal life will adjust to become more resistant to diseases and the elements. Childbirth has become safer and more successful for all species. Finally, the increase in vitality will specifically grant all life +5 to Strength, Constitution, and Intelligence, as well as an increased resistance to cold due to better circulation of nutrients.
  
  ─ Creatures that directly participated in overcoming the Trial will additionally receive +10 to Strength, Constitution, and Intelligence as well as an even greater resistance to cold.
  
  ─ As the Challenger of Avalon and the primary one responsible for defeating the Trial, all benefits are doubled. ERROR: multiple Earthborn Challengers detected in the vicinity. Applying the award of power to both Challengers.
  
  <Holy status update,> Teeth groaned as the information swept through us. <Also, why does it now feel like we didn't skip leg day?>
  
  Before I could answer him, a new torrent of information poured into me from my mindscreen.
  
  ─ A nascent Planetary Lord has participated in the ending of a Trial. Right to Rule has been gained. The Lord will receive the same benefits as the inhabitants who participated in the defeating of the Trial, +10 to Strength, Constitution, and Intelligence, as well as increased resistance to cold. The Lord further gains +10 to Wisdom and Charisma for lending assistance on an allied planet.
  
  ─ ERROR: detecting allegiance from at least one Icon of the Woadlands. Right to Rule has further been increased. Further detecting that the nascent Lord has played a direct role in ending the Trial, including the use of his personal retinue. The Lord will further gain an increase in Wisdom and Charisma equal to the highest increase granted to a member of the Lord's warband. As a Challenger has been detected among the Lord's warband, said increase is +30 to Wisdom and Charisma. The Planetary Lord has also gained a deeper tie to this world, allowing for a deeper association with this world's ancient magic and skills. The Planetary Lord has gained an increase in affinity for inherent Woadfolk skills as well as the right and ability to make use of Woad tattoos. Affinity for Water and Earth magic has also been increased. ERROR: Detecting a pre-existing affinity for Woad tattoos and several Woadfolk skills. Also detecting maximum comprehension for aforementioned Ideals. Applicable power is attempting resolution…
  
  Something inside my body shifted. The pressure inside of me grew heavier.
  
  <Applying resolution,> my mindscreen informed me. <The Planetary Lord will receive assistance from the planet itself during the creation of his first woad tattoo. The nascent Planetary Lord will also gain two ranks per Rise in his choice of Elder Woadfolk skills.>
  
  I still had no idea what the woad tattoo would do for me, but I could always make use of more skill ranks. Especially since Breena had enough stress as it was.
  
  ─ The Challenger has successfully negotiated an agreement with the Icons of a planet, and has honored the first part of his commitment. The Challenger has taken an additional step along the Path of Kings. The Challenger has completed his first journey along said Path. All previous benefits will be increased. The Challenger has also gained an affinity for influencing beings under his command.
  
  ─ The Challenger has successfully led his forces against a planetary Trial, resulting in the completion of said Trial. The Challenger has taken an additional step along the Path of War, leading to the completion of his first journey down said Path. All previous benefits will be increased. The Challenger has also gained an increased awareness of battlefields, allowing him to have a better sense of all present combatants.
  
  I had never heard of Paths containing 'journeys.' I would have to talk to Stell or Breena about that…
  
  ─ Update: sufficient energy has been gained to circumvent hostile algorithms. Attempting now.
  
  <Wait,> I thought at my mindscreen, <don't—>
  
  A crushing, piercing weight settled over my chest, and it felt like my heart had suddenly seized up. Before I had time to question my instincts, my subconscious had already grabbed hold of the weight, wrestled it about, heaved…
  
  And *pushed*.
  
  And *pushed*.
  
  And then *pushed* one final time.
  
  I attempted to throw out one last expletive before I blacked out, but failed.