Efrain was flabbergasted by what he saw, having managed to turn his head during his sprint away from the masts. As his body slowed to an unnatural speed, his weight multiplied by several degrees as he halted and fell to the ground. He could see however, the newcomer, who must’ve been that Occluded that accosted him, standing under the monster lunging for him.

 

Where the monster placed its long limbs on the rolling platforms, they shot out from beneath it. Its others scrabbled to keep its bulk upright, but it was far too late. The massive shafts of wood halted their fall, then reversed directions. The thing slammed into the spikes, the longest erupting through the top of its misshapen body in black spires as it screamed. Efrain watched as the young man beneath ducked and weaved his way through the masts and limbs, retreating to a safe distance. Efrain was released, stumbling to the floor but managing to watch the monster topple almost comically onto its side, kicking and wailing.

 

He pushed himself up, watching as the man barely missed a beat to turn on his heel. He strode towards the two girls, saying something indeterminate, then seizing Aya and Sorore, dragging them towards the fallen monster. Efrain wanted to call, to shout that it wasn’t quite dead. The man stopped and called clearly to an approaching group of legionnaires, Frare at its head.

 

“Frare!” he shouted, “come here. Or I’ll kill your sisters.”

 

Efrain felt a ripple of cold that had little to do with the thing’s aura of fear. Once more that unnatural heaviness dragged him from movement, from raising so much as an arm. The legionnaires too froze, struggling to move, some outright falling to their knees. Frare, by contrast, shot forward faster than Efrain had ever seen a human move.

 

Too fast, apparently, for the youth careened in the direction of the gaunt man and the other two children. His arms flailed wildly as he cried out, trying to steady himself as momentum carried himself forward, into the waiting grip. Efrain watched as the gaunt youth in a superb feat of balance in coordination, redirected Frare to slam into the side of the crystal horn. In the same motion, he ducked and grabbed the two girls, yanking them forward to touch the material. Then, with a final push, he shoved himself into it.

 

There was a flash of brilliant light, as a rush of smells and sounds bowled Efrain over. There was the sweetness of berries, the taste of hot peppers in his mouth, the feeling of wet sand under his feet. When he regained his footing and his vision, three children lay where they’d slumped. There was no longer a crystal, rather a pile of dark ash flowing out of a large, crystal-shaped cavity in a misshapen and melting mass of pale flesh.

 

Efrain blinked. The paladins and legionnaires rushed forwards to retrieve the fallen children. He made his way over to them, finding them pale, unconscious, but alive. The youth was the first to awaken a moment later, bolting up and sending his carers scrambling back.

 

“Oh good,” he said, calm, but weak, “it worked.”

 

“What do you mean it worked?!” said Lillian, holding Aya.

 

“I didn’t know for sure. I suspected. They’re alive? Good,” he said as he managed to stumble to his feet.

 

Claralelle of all people rushed to support him, beginning to pepper him with questions about what exactly he did and how he worked on and so on and so forth. Innie brushed through her legs, coming to Sorore’s side, who Niche held. Efrain dragged himself over to Lillian and Aya.

 

“I agree with the paladin, almost,” he said, “what made you think that would work?”

 

“Trial and error,” shrugged the man.

 

The paladins stared at him with disbelief, Efrain just chuckled weakly.

 

“Well, it’s dead then? Also, who are you?”

 

“With the crystal destroyed,” he said as simple confirmation, “my name is Leonard. It still hasn’t happened yet.”

 

“What? What do you mean?” Efrain said.

 

Leonard’s face screwed up in confusion.

 

“I thought you said that… but where is…” then his face slackened, eyes widening as they turned to Efrain, “oh. It was you.”

 

Efrain felt a bolt of something heading his way, with deadly intent.

 

Then it stopped.

 

As did everything.

 

The flow of black blood. The lapping of the central canal so disturbed by their fight. The melting and sloughing of the great pile of flesh. The breathing of his compatriots, and himself. Efrain couldn’t move either, but somehow he knew that the motion of the stars and moon above were also frozen in place.

 

There was the sound of a rustling of paper, which resolved into a light, quick step.

 

“That used to be easy,” came a voice, one he’d heard before, in dreams and memories.

 

“Who…?” managed Efrain in his head.

 

“Oh, you’re still perceiving. Must be because you’re unbound. Unbiased? Unbroken? No, none of those are right. You… compress so much meaning, and lose it in the process.”

 

Efrain thought he could see.. something in the corners of his vision. Something surrounded by fluttering pieces of history.

 

“I don’t do this to be cruel, but they can’t come together. It’s too risky. And I’m almost empty. Out of power. Out of time.”

 

There was a laugh filled with as much bitterness as humour.

 

“And options. So that leaves you.”

 

“This is out of desperation,” the voice continued, sounding wretchedly tired, “so please don’t think ill of me for it. I need you. You wouldn’t be my first choice. Or my last for that matter. But you are what I have.”

 

He was so, so close. He could feel the presence right by his ear. He could almost see it. Almost.

 

“So, do it.”

 

The voice was beginning to… fragment.

 

“Find me Efrain,” she said, “make me whole.”

 

The world opened up beneath him, the stone and water and torches and pyramids of Karkos warping and expanding and shrinking. Then there was light, chill, and red.

 

“Good luck,” came the last distant whisper of the voice.

 

Efrain smashed into something. Not particularly hard, but enough to convince him to lay there for a while.

 

***

 

Sorore blinked awake, her last memories of someone laughing. She wasn’t sure who or why, but it left her feeling awfully comforted. That was before a violent sensation of being wrenched sideways, her stomach flipping upside down and finding herself retching violently on the stones of the Karkos work yard.

Why was she always finding herself coughing up something in this dreadful city? It was enough. She wanted to take her brother by the hand, march all the way west and fall into the best beds that luxury could buy. She wanted to put her head on her mother’s lap, she wanted to… wanted to…

 

She looked up, taking an inventory of where she was and who was with her. The great corpse of the monster was there, in its state of accelerated decomposition. And there were the legionnaires or some of them, and the members of Aya’s family, treacherous and all, Niche, and the cat and…

There was no one else.

 

She blinked harder, trying to bring the others back into view, but they were gone, utterly, and completely.

 

There was a smell she couldn’t quite place, something akin to the scent of roads after rain. But even that was rapidly fading from notice, much to her alarm.

 

“Frare?” she ventured, “Lillian? Aya? L-Leonard?”

 

There was no response. The others were beginning to pull themselves up to their feet, looking around with wonder.

 

“Efrain? Efrain?!” cried the cat’s voice, in a mixture of shock and terror.

 

Niche looked and blinked, shaking his head as he tried to place himself.

 

“What in the name of the Lost just happened?” he said, trying to rise only to fall back down on his haunches.

 

“Efrain?!” came Innie’s voice, louder this time.

 

His voice was filled with awe.

 

Sorore called out one last time to her brother, but her voice was only met by its own echo in the empty yard.

 

There was the sound of boots hitting the ground from the far end of the workyard. Hundreds of city and household guards, their numbers supplemented by sandshell legionnaires. Also among them were at least fifty of Naia troops, and other volunteers who must’ve joined in to defend their city. The commander came to their side, his troops and the other legionnaires helping the wounded and weak to their feet, staring warily at the corpse of the Leviathan.

“What happened?” asked Naia, his voice sharp and hard as he surveyed the destruction.

“They… vanished,” said one of the other, more distant legionnaires, “up into the air. Like their forms…”

 

The man’s brow furrowed, trying to apply the correct words to what he’d seen.

 

“They were being pulled like candy, stretched out, and then crushed together, and there was a bright light and… and then they… simply vanished.”

The commander glanced around, and, seeing nothing, drew his mouth into a hard line.

“Then they’re gone. Nature balances itself,” he said, shaking his head.

“What does that mean? What does that mean?!” said Niche, back on his feet and seizing the commander by the shoulder, “you knew this would happen?!”

“Hands off. Now, paladin,” said Naia icily, a glimmering dagger in his hands, the tip pressed against Niche’s armpit.

Around Niche, several of Naia’s soldiers had weapons drawn, eyes sharp.

“If you knew… if you knew,” growled Niche, refusing to lose his grip, “I’ll-”

Someone hauled Sorore to her feet and pressed something hard and cold to her throat.

“I’d step away if I were you,” said Damafelce, eyes set dead ahead, sword in hand.

Niche looked to them, then back to the commander, then back at them.

“You dare?” he snarled, Naia wincing as the paladin’s gauntleted fingers dug into the shoulder plate.

Sorore was far away, in some distant other world, watching it all happen through a window.

“I do,” said the knight, “away from him, now. You might kill him, you might kill me. But you can’t stop all of us.”

What Niche was going to say or do next, none of them ever found out. There was a sharp clap, and a thunderous voice snapped each participant’s head around.

“Enough!” it said.

Sorore wondered with distant amusement at the string of coincidence. It was the pale haired man, who was with Leonard when they pulled her out of the canal. It had been only, what, less than a day or two ago? The man strode forward, his purple eyes magnified by a set of spectacles.

“Paladin, withdraw your hands. Naia, you should know better than to say such stupid things at a time like this. Knight Damafelce, remove that blade at once!”

Sorore was released into the care of this strange newcomer, who inspected her from head to toe, brushed her off, and turned to the other.

“I would hope that you, being the rational adults you all are, could solve this with words. Naia, explain yourself. Damafelce, apologise to the lady.”

The dagger was sheathed, though that did not stop the commander’s eyes from glimmering.

“Orthelli,” he said, “I was under the impression that you had retired.”

“You expect me to sleep through all this?” said the man, gesturing to the rubble, “I’m old, Naia, not deaf. Now, do you know if it's feasible that any of our missing parties can be found?”

Naia leveled a gaze at the older man, then glanced around.

“No. I don’t think it’s likely.”

The man sighed, coughed vigorously and moved over to Sorore’s side.

“Alright, here’s what’s going to happen. As soon as we can, barring your arrest, you’ll all be on my ship back to Ennen’Alla, then onto Inalthia. Passage will be secured for your men. You’ve really put your foot in it this time, Naia,” he said.

“I know,” said the commander, smiling grimly, before moving on.

“Where’s my brother?” asked Sorore quietly, “where’s Aya, where’s… any of them?”

Orthelli’s face softened as he looked down at her.

“We’ll make it alright,” he said.

 

***

Aya’s cheek was pressed, as was the whole side of her body, into something soft and cool. She mumbled something unintelligible, even to herself. She tried to push herself up as the nausea finally faded, feeling her hands sink into that soft substance. She recognized the sensation of sand as her eyes blinked open.

 

She was clearly no longer in Karkos.

 

In front of her the sea sparkled in the moonlight, while behind her, dark brown dunes of sand stretched into the horizon. Panic seized her as she looked around. There was Lillian, and two of the sandshell legion, and Efrain, a smudge of dark cloth on the dunes.

The others seemed to be breathing, but the mage lay completely still. A handful of steps from him, she found his mask half-buried in the sand. The stone was cool to the touch, and there was the slightest feeling of drainage from it. Turning it over, she found metal hooks reaching back into the face.

That sent a chill up her spin as she wondered how exactly it attached to the mage’s face.

Before she could do much else, however, there was a groan from the layers of black cloth. The mage raised himself up to sitting, looking away from her as grain cascaded down.

“What the-” he said, adjusting his vest and hood with black gloved hands.

Indeterminable curiosity seized hold of Aya as she thumbed the black mask. Now was her chance, to catch a glimpse of the man who seemed to know so much. He got to his feet, but stilled when his fingers went to his face, realizing that its cover was gone.

“That’s not ideal,” he said, his voice clearer now without the obstruction.

Aya’s breath quickened, she held up the mask, and, in a split moment of decision, shut her eyes.

“Here,” she said.

She might want to, but she didn’t need to see. She might think less of him for it, and that prospect scared her.

“Ah,” he said.

She felt him retreive the mask, heard its hooks slid into something, and then opened her eyes to find the familiar figure standing before her.

“Thank you,” Efrain said, brushing the remains of the sand from him.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” she said.

“Hurt? Why would it?” he said, tugging and twisting the mask to get the orientation just right.

“There are hooks on the back, metal ones,” she said, “don’t they dig in?”

“Ah. They would, wouldn’t they?” Efrain said.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, Aya trying to think of something else to say the mage craned this way and that.

“I know who you are,” she said, finally.

“And who would that be?” Efrain said slowly, leaned down to scoop a handful of sand and examine it.

“They called you the Baron, back in the vale,” she said, “Carnes told my mother and I. He gave your name.”

The man had frozen mid squat as she’d said it, that empty gaze looking directly at her.

“They did,” Efrain said, resuming his full height, “I should’ve guessed you also heard. Your mother said the same thing. You must’ve put the puzzle together as soon as you meet me.”

She shook her head.

“Only at the church in Albion.”

“Really?” he said, “I would’ve expected someone of your intelligence to figure it out earlier than that.”

“There was a lot going on at the time.”

“I suppose there was,” Efrain said, looking at her as the conversation lasped into another lull.

Then, before Aya could do or say another thing, he reached up, slid his mask up and pulled it off.

“You might as well know everything now,” he said, his voice clear once more.

It took a moment for Aya to realize that there was no pain, for there was no skin or flesh for the hook to bite. What starred back at her was an empty grinning skull, bereft of anything but bone.

“Is that… is that you?” she said, eyes widening.

“Immortality wears many faces, not many of them pleasant,” Efrain said, placing the mask back into place.

“So… you’re a monster,” she said numbly, noting the others beginning to stir.

“It depends on your definition of monster.”

Aya thought about that for a while, then smiled.

“A monster that speaks.”

The mage also chuckled, waved a hand, and a silver light popped into existence above his head.

“Do you know where we are?” Aya said, gesturing to the expanse of sand and stars.

In its radiance, Aya realized that the dunes were not a ruddy brown, but a honest vermilion red. Efrain let grains of sand drip from his fingers, blow away in the sea breeze.

“How in the world…?” he murmurred, “just what…”

The last of the sand vanished into the desert floor. Lillian sat up, bleeding from a cut on her face and blinking at the sudden light. The legionnaires were also pulling themselves up from the sand, looking about in wonder.

“Oh what in the name of the Lost happened now?” Lillian groaned, trying to get up, and falling back onto the sand.

“I don’t know, but the stars are wrong. We’ve been transported somewhere. If the red sands and coastal cliffs are anything to go by…”

Aya could practically hear the grimace in his voice.

“Were in the red sands, the outer plague dunes of Neith. Judging from the stars above our head, were near Garub Sadim, the northwestern point.”

“Nieth?” Lillian said, “how did we…? How far is it to the next settlement?!”

Efrain wheeled about, looking this way and that.

“The closest one I know of? I would say about… a three week trek that way.”

They all turned to see the vast expanse of the desert, stretching boundless and bare to the horizon.