Watching Sufina's waspish waist sway this way and that, Gwen wondered if she should have chomped down hard on that wiggling worm that was "The Accord". Perhaps then, she would be better equipped to comprehend this outbreak of Vessels, World Trees, and cheeky Serpents.

Unfortunately, her present circumstance left only herself and her siblings to tackle Sufina's mythic-tier cuckoldry.

Luckily, her nine months of accelerated tutelage had plenty to say about Dryadic reproduction, a topic she had reluctantly researched thanks to Hai sowing his wild oats. Through her self-study, Gwen had learned that from a "Human" perspective, Dryads and Nymphs made ambivalent foes. Some Groves savoured their men, releasing bow-legged survivors to spread the love by word-of-mouth. Others remained voracious for food and seed until inevitably attaining heat-death by Spellfire.

Equally disturbing was Attenborough's New England Bestiary remarking that Nymph Groves remained popular destinations despite capricious chance-encounters. This was because Dryads that predated on mammalian males possessed morphic means to hyper-stimulate reproductive behaviour. In the aftermath, successful fertilisation of the pseudo-womb produced seedings for the communal Grove, whose future Dryads, when matured, would then retain their father's morphic specialities. Specimens mated with Wood Elves, for instance, had longer life spans and higher affinity for Druidic sorcery. Likewise, those coupled with Mages developed particular affinities or resistances, becoming capable of thriving even in hostile landscapes. On the Eurasian Steppes, especially-bred "Tree-Kin" of Green-skin war hosts became living battering rams thanks to Ogrish seed-fathers.

As for Sufina and Almudj, Gwen could only guess at the strange fruit that may yet germinate.

When the Bloom in White had informed Gwen that "There is always a Tree", Gwen had taken the Elf to mean botany. For someone with an informed understanding of ecosystems, it made perfect sense that terrestrial life began within arboreal biomasses, within which naturally-evolving food pyramids engendered civilisations that inevitably inspired the worship of "World Trees".

For instance, even a careless browse of Peterhouses' library would reveal volumes wedged between Ice Giants and Frost Wyrms detailing the World Tree Yggdrasil. Two aisles across, leather-bound books told of Tenochtitlanians immolating human hearts to access the Axis Mundi: conduit-portals that linked the Prime, Positive, and the Negative via metaphysical tree trunks. In the reserve section for theology students, she would encounter Trees of Good, Evil, Life and Knowledge, each marking man's earliest genesis. And within those trees, more often than not, she would find dodgy serpents offering seedy figs to bewildered young ladies.

Trees, Serpents and Women.
Though Gwen herself was not religious, both her lives had instilled a distinct perception that serpents were not nice. Far from being beautiful or wise, they were wicked, vile, insidious things up to no good: always scheming to swallow the world.

Comparatively, when Gwen turned to Demi-human charters, the academic purview of serpents grew kinder. In the story of the Nagī's Enlightenment, Mayuree's people told of Mucalinda, the King Snake of the Bodhi Tree who used its flesh and blood to defend Buddha until he attained transcendence. Likewise, in the untamed parts of the East Indies, priestesses burned incense to invoke Serpent-Sprites such as Adishesha the Wish Fulfiller and Kadru, the Mother of Thousands. Further north, the Elemental Sea was said to house a skyward tree harbouring an Elder Salamander whose summoner was an abyssal witch-queen.

In codified lore, therefore— trees, serpents and women made a _ménage à trois_ as old as time, one in which Gwen suspected she now had a part.

"Sufi, can you clarify?" Gwen indicated to Sufina's parroting of Tryfan's Serpent-Tree-Priestess tripartite. "Why do you need Almudj, exactly?"

"I am confused as well." Alesia raised both hands. "Is that not Gwen's Conduit?"

"What do you need, exactly?" Gunther swung his laser-like insight pointed toward the jugular of the matter.

"Yes, let's start with that." Gwen gestured to the tendril-wrapped serpent Scale.

"You are correct that this is indeed a Conduit belonging to the Elder One." Sufina motioned toward the shimmering object held hovering inside its veiny chrysalis. "As for what I am doing with it— the Scale is presently tethered to your Master's body, thereby preventing my animus from reverting to a primal state."

Alesia's eyes grew large. When she spoke, her digits trembled. "Our Master's body still lives?"

"Don't be absurd!" Gunther refuted Alesia's observation. "Not even Deathless Henry can survive the single most powerful Void Mage on Earth blighting his Astral Soul—"

"His heart," Sufina interrupted their eldest. "I have kept Henry's physical remains… preserved through the heart."

Gwen abruptly recalled the story their Master had told after Blackheath. "If I remember correctly. Master said his wife voided a whole heap of his organs, didn't she? You had to regrow the missing parts. Is that what you mean, Sufi?"

"Correct," Sufina approved of their youngest' sterling memory. "Most of Henry's heart and his left lung, in fact, and the tissues and bones that had been damaged as well. All of it, I had replaced using my sap and sinew. In the three decades since, my roots had enmeshed every organ in Henry's body to prevent his flesh from failing. That was why your Master drank copious volumes of Golden Mead, you see. The mortal portion of his being lacked the means to keep my grafts satiated."

"You were keeping our Master alive through flesh-stitching?" Gunther drank in a breath of cold air. "That's borderline Necromancy."

"Considering it stopped your Master from dying, shouldn't it be Biomancy?" Sufina's lips curled mockingly. "You have to understand Sobel took those vital organs from his Astral as well as his physical body. There was no way to heal or regenerate what had been consumed. What Henry managed while dying was nothing short of a miracle and a testament to your Master's prowess."

"A prowess that we are slowly uncovering, it seems," Gunther replied sardonically. "Still, nursing a soulless body blighted by a Void Mage isn't a feat attainable through brute-force vital injections. Is that why you need Gwen's Serpent?"

"Its Essence was essential." Sufina did not deny that she needed Almudj's help, nor did she confess to receiving its aid. "Through the Rainbow Serpent's regenerative prowess, I was able to rejoin the voided Astral conduits Sobel had disrupted to prevent me from reviving Henry. By then, the essential part of your Master was long gone, but the lesser part of his being needn't perish. So long as his corporeal conduits continue to exist, the Familiar that accompanied Magister Kilroy through a century of service would not fade either."

Gunther appeared to withhold his opinion. "Alesia? Gwen? What are your feelings on this?"

"If you ask me," Alesia confessed. "I am happy to know our Master remains deathless, in a way."

"Gwen?" Gunther grew grim.

"I would like to know how my 'Scale' factors and continues to factor into this ordeal." Gwen could see that her siblings stood divided on the part of Sufina playing house with a lukewarm cadaver. "As for Master's remains, I want to give Sufi the benefit of the doubt. I mean, we owe Master our love and respect, but Sufi's been with Henry through thick and thin for longer than we have been alive. That and she'll lose the part of herself that we've come to love and admire if we take Master away. Ergo, all things considered, and my Scale notwithstanding, I am willing to bear the anguish of Master's remains... remaining."

"Well said." Alesia pumped a fist.

Gunther's tautly-clenched jaw muscles took several seconds to relax. "I see. Very well, I'll concede the point."

"It's not as though you three could have taken Henry from me." Sufina gave them a disapproving look. "I am beyond the reproach of children."

"Right." Gwen made a motion of moving the old matter aside. "Now, about my Conduit. Any chance I could have it back?"

"Not without losing Henry."

"As I suspected. Alright, I am all ears."

"Unfortunately, the Essence I received wasn't enough to sustain Henry indefinitely." Sufina caressed the trunk of her Heart Tree. "I had to improvise by tapping the source directly."

Upon hearing the Dryad's confession, Gwen felt another horrifying puzzle piece click into place. "Holy fuck, Sufi, you used Essence Tap on Almudj?"

"Henry's variation is called _Spirit Tap_." Sufina appeared stunned by her accusation. "How do you know that spell?"

"I played removalist at the holiday home in Tryfan earlier this year. The Elves then voided the lot."

"That blooming arch-bitch untethered my home from Tryfan?" Sufina's smouldering amber pupils glowed with a dangerous light. "And Eldrin allowed this?"

"I never met Eldrin..." Gwen said. "Do you know Sanari?"

"A junior Hierophant of no consequence." Sufina sighed. "Who would have thought that even Elves suffered from a shortage of sentimentality. So much for never forgetting a friendship."

"They said something about not wanting to keep the abode of a dead man alive in a living tree." Gwen tried her best to imagine Sufina giving the Bloom in White a tongue-lashing, desiring very much to be a Cali on the wall if that should happen. "Solana was very courteous. She even showed me her Heart Tree. Speaking of which, I must say, Sufi, on the way in, I sensed a significant overlap between that Grot and this one. Is that intentional?"

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Compared to Tryfan, Henry's Grot is centuries away from reaching the scale attained by the Elves," Sufina denied the similarities. "Unless your Patron lends us its life-force."

"From Almudj?" Gwen's eyes moved from the coiled roots around her Scale to their grinning Mistress of Thorns. "How? Are you not drinking from the fount already?"

"If you've learnt Essence Tap, then you should also know that usurping Essence from Mythics amounts to little more than parasitism," Sufina continued to drop bombs without so much a bat of her lush lashes. "Besides, even an Oliphant would grow annoyed at a persistent gnat. The Svartálfar never meant for Soul Tap to be subtle."

With some reluctance, Gwen recalled that to utilise Sympathetic Life-Link with Gracie, she had to "Tap" Gracie's Astral Body. During their first attempt, she accidently went beyond 'just a tap', resulting in a soulful cry of existential agony from her partner— after which Gwen had to drip-feed Gracie an Essence-laced bottle of Maotai to bring her back from gibbering incoherency. Now she could see that Gracie's suffering ratified both of Sufina's claims— that of the viability of Essence Tap, and that of the regenerative properties of Al's Essence. "So, you want to create a channel between my 'Conduit' and the Grot?"

"That and intercede on my and Almudj's behalf," Sufina stated blankly. "I can't imagine the Serpent is too pleased with me nibbling at its beard."

Gwen grew momentarily confused. Wasn't it usually a serpent that nibbled on tree roots and not the other way around? She gestured at the tendrils. "And those roots are what you're using to tap Almudj's sap?"

"Yes. All for the sake of your Master."

Henry's youngest Apprentice glanced at her "Master", then fell into a contemplative mood, filling the ambiguous space of the Grot with her silence.

Sufina and Almudj?
_What would emerge from that?_
On the topic of her Patron, Gwen had uncovered only the obscurest volumes.

Within these rare notes, researchers spoke of an Elder being that was male, female, hermaphroditic, androgynous and bisexual. Likewise, ambiguous records saw of Almudj as the bringer of life and death, drought and rain, sun and thunderstorms. Without Almudj, no rain would fall anywhere on Earth. Without Almudj, women's bellies would not grow ripe with fruit, and the monthly blood would not come.

In a rarer manuscript, she had found a Pintupi folktale that spoke of one incarnation who had grown attracted to the scent of a trio of sisters, each a skilled singer of Dreamtime magic. At night, as a bearded black snake, Almudj then visited each of the sisters in turn, swelling their bellies with seed. When the women awoke to some surprise, they decided to carry the Serpent's children to term. These youth were then born with full mastery over the land's sacred rites and languages, raising a rocky formation in honour of their mothers.

Disparate to the picture Sufina painted, however, the lore surrounding Terra Australis did not lack in Serpents, but rarely mentioned Trees. If so, would Almudj be amicable to receiving a Dryad? Though Sufi was flora, she was also fauna and a veritable fount of fertility.

The foremost thought on her mind, however, were the possibilities brought to term by the union of snake and tree. In hindsight, what she had seen in Tryfan had hinted at a utopian end-game. To this end, Sufina, in usurping her Scale and illicitly pilfering from Almudj, had opened a window of possibilities previously deemed mythical.

"Sufi—" she spoke at last. "IF I beg Almudj to forgive you and even lend you its Essence— what will I get out of it? What's my cut of the action?"

"Gwen!" Alesia appeared aghast. "This isn't—"

"Allie, Gwen's right." Gunther took his partner by the hand before she could further protest. "We respect Sufi— but not to the point of selflessness. If Gwen has to risk angering her Patron or leave her Conduit with Sufina, she would be giving up enormous potentials— one that will limit her development as a Void Mage and as a Vessel. Such a sacrifice must be balanced with equal gain, for our Master did not raise fools who thought only with their hearts. Besides, we have already compromised in gifting Sufi Master's remains. Her additional requests must be paid in full."

"Think of it like this, Allie— We're all living in a practical world, and I am a practical girl," Gwen said musically. "And a Mythic is a girl's best friend. Sufi, May I see _my_ Scale?"

The Dryad ran a hand over the coiled roots, causing the fibres to soften, distending the tendrils arresting the Scale until its shimmering self laid between the three Apprentice and their Master's slumped body. Gwen could see that at the very bottom of the palm-sized Conduit, a pulsing umbilical vine held the sacred thing aloft.

"Good, I can still feel Almudj." Gwen hovered a hand over her Conduit, caressing the thing with her will. In response, the vivid Scale shimmered and flared, refracting the light like the petrol-sheen on a pigeon's neck. "Right, let's hear your offer."

"Gwennie!"

Gunther silenced his wife by arresting her fingers and gently kissing them.

Sufina studied their youngest until Gwen grew uncomfortable, then began to speak.

"I'll give you a safe zone."

"A safe zone?"

"Yes. Over the last century, Henry and I had uncovered much of the Hvítálfar's secrets— replicating, for instance— self-sustained pocket-Planes such as this Grot. Earlier, you said you met the Bloom in White, meaning you should know that Solana, Tryfan and Tyfanevius together maintain Snowdonia's sovereignty. Within this tripartite, Tryfan exists as the Core of Snowdonia, a great spiral of roots where all the ley-lines accumulate. By soaking up all ambient mana, it tethers the tumultuous Elemental forces around it in place— acting as a dimensional anchor."

Gwen internalised the new diction, soaking in the Dryad's knowledge.

"Equal to Solana, Tyfanevius is the Guardian, not quite as old as Tryfan, but older than Human civilisation. For aeons, the Green Wyrm has watered the tree with its Essence, while protecting its home from the aberrant things that crawl in the fissures where the spheres conjoin, hungry for entry into the Prime Material."

"And then there are the Elves, sycophants of the World Trees before your kind had learned tools, much less Spellcraft. According to their elders, their ancestors were indigenous to another Plane but were lured by the fruits of the World Tree into becoming the Hvítálfar and Svartálfar. Solana, the one they call the Eternal Bloom in White, is one of the few surviving Hvítálfar carrying the blood of their Planar ancestors, whose bonds to Tryfan and Tyfanevius are bound by Accords older than any other living being on Earth."

Gwen's eyes grew gradually glazed as the implication of Sufina's tale dawned.

"So you're saying..." Her mind felt afflicted by a strange fever as the nibbles of knowledge she had gathered on the Elves, the Accord, the World Trees and the Serpents fell into their rightful places. To her present understanding, what their other-mother inferred was that the Prime Material possessed inherent fissures where bisecting Planes of existence bled over— hence the Gobs and Hobs and whatnot that kept popping up— and that here and there in their world were giant trees evolved to feed on energy leaks, thereby nixing planar instabilities by sucking up mana that, if left unchecked, would tear the fabric of space and invite non-terrestrial invaders.

"Holy shit." Gwen grew dizzy with the euphoria of understanding. "I think I get what you're offering."

"You do?" Sufina cocked her head. "Then what knowledge have you gleaned, little one?"

"You're offering me an opportunity to downgrade a Zone's danger rating! Right? The area around a World Tree is safe from undesirables because in Tryfan's shadow, even if an Elemental pierces the veil, the World Tree would starve them of mana so that their extinction becomes natural and inevitable. That's why Snowdonia is always peaceful and never sees outbreaks within its borders, correct? That's why they freak when invasive flora like the Triffids pop up."

"Yes," Sufina concurred, her yellow orbs growing soft and inviting, forcing Gwen's heart to skip a beat. "If ancient Almudj would be our Tyfanevius— then I invite you, daughter, to be as Solana to my Tryfan."

Besides Gwen, Gunther's mouth grew equally wide. "Gwen, this is an incredible opportunity, one for which I can only feel envy."

"Don't our Towers already do that?" Alesia demanded.

"For what the Tree of Tryfan can maintain, you would need a superstructural Tower," Gunther said.

"Whoa!" Gwen fought to keep her excitement in check. "Sufi. Let me confirm again. You're saying that you'll sedate a region for me, ala-Tryfan— in exchange for my guiding Almudj to you? That and make sure it isn't going to eat you?"

"Only if the Elder One joins us." Dryad inclined her sculpted chin, her face the perfect creation of a master doll-maker. "I can't do this myself, just as I can't maintain Henry alone."

"So many birds with one Fireball!" Alesia clapped. "Gwennie, say yes!"

"Indeed, allow me to applaud your new opportunity," Gunther cut in. "BUT as your Guardian and brother-in-craft, I should advise a visit to the Tree of Tryfan to notify Lady Solana before you venture any further with Sufina. The two of you may appear to be in the know, but a little knowledge…"

"… can be a dangerous thing," Gwen agreed. "I take it I am missing some key details?"

"You are." Gunther nodded. "I am not a member of the Accord, so I can't say how the Hvítálfar would react if you decided to germinate a World Tree between yourself, Sufina and Almudj. As an parallel, I would not allow someone I can't control to erect a Tower in Australia even at no cost to Sydney."

"Bah, they can react all they like." Sufina smiled prettily. "What are the knife-eared tree ants going to do? Send Tyfanevius against us? Your Patron will crush that wiggling Wyrm like a pillbug."

"You say that." Gunther halted the Dryad from further tempting their red-eared, inexperienced sibling. "But Gwen has both friends and family in the Prime Material. The Hvítálfar of Tryfan may keep to themselves, but their reach through the Accord has permeated the Mageocracy and the Commonwealth for centuries. Unless you wish for Gwen never to leave the Grot or set up her tree somewhere in China, where there are no Elves..."

Sufina shrugged. "Is that not agreeable?"

Gwen's back grew clammy when she realised that, true to Gunther's words, the Dryad had indeed laid the groundworks to alienate her from her present world.

"No, Sufi. I don't think I'll be too thrilled if I had to hang here with only Al, you and Master's corpse for company. But on that note, I will make a decision here and now," she replied to the Dryad. "I'll bequeath you the Scale for the moment, Sufi, so that you may maintain yourself. As for asking Almudj to intercede on your behalf— I am not in a position to make an educated verdict, and so I shall delay that decision until after graduation, or at least until I can draft a comprehensive Five-Year Plan and have it peer-reviewed…"

"A sound decision." Her brother-in-craft gave her a curt nod before addressing their Familiar-mother. "With all due respect, Sufi, your gift is too precious to expend carelessly, and there are far too many variables in its expenditure. For all we know, it might open up an inter-species global conflict."

"Or maybe the two of you are making a Troll Warren out of a Gob Hill." Alesia bit her lips. "Sufi wants to preserve both our Master and herself. It doesn't need to be complicated if you don't make it more complicated. It seems to me that Tower and power are the only ideas bouncing around in your heads. No wonder you two forgave Walken so easily. You're the same breed of animal."

"And our Master was the best among us." Gunther's patience for his wife made Gwen blush for feeling agitated. "You're right— but Gwen's life is at stake, and it's her future that's up in the balance. Will you challenging her choice, Allie?"

Despondently, Alesia shook her head.

"Sorry, Allie." Gwen then returned to Sufina before Alesia could change her mind. "Sufi, is that agreeable to you? I'll need two more years before I can make an informed decision."

Sufina glided across the sheave-strew floor until she stood behind their Master. Gazing at the three Apprentices, the Dryad gingerly dipped her chin.

Gwen chose to interpret the ambivalent gesture as an agreement.

"Alright, then." She forced herself to smile. "How about Master's Grimoires, Sufi? Any idea where Master hid his stash?"

Sufina kissed Henry's head.

The trio of Apprentices each delivered their most polite but sceptical expression.

"Well…" Sufina leaned in until her bosoms pressed against the back of their dead Master's hair. With an elongated finger, she tapped the space between her globular bosoms, roughly where a woman might have her heart. "In here, I suppose."

Gunther's brows furrowed.
Gwen hoped Sufina did not infer that Dryads' had breasts for brains.

"That's right." Sufina rested a hand on her hip. "Our baby bird better commit to a decision soon. Because when her Essence runs dry, I'll be forgetting far more than just your Master's life. All those spells he wrote for Sobel, all that knowledge he pilfered from Morden's Enclave and the Elven Accord— all that... Necromancy... would disappear from my Astral Soul, like—"

Sufina paused in her search for a figurative expression. All Familiars struggled with the abstract— it was a hallmark of Elemental beings whose very existence were metaphors made manifest.

"… like tears in the rain?" Gwen put forward a plagarised movie line.

"Yes." Sufina placed her cheek beside Henry's, whose restful mien resembled a reposed Hypnos. "Or like the morning dew."


Her companions once called her the "Devourer".

At first, the moniker was the product of good-natured humour because she ate enough for two men and yet had the frailest constitution among their party.

Later, when they staggered out of the blight that was the Brisbane Zone, reality murdered the mirth.

After that, the moniker took on an all-devouring life of its own.
In every corner where the burgeoning post-Tide Commonwealth reigned, her husband ensured the nickname was never mentioned, and that she was remembered as the heroine of the hour.

Outside of Humanity's cities, the infamy of the Devourer spread like flaming-tempests sowing wildfires, blazing north from the Saurian Reaches of far north Queensland down through the Coral Sea and onto the Shelf Kingdoms of the Mermen.

Even when her notoriety reached its peak, the men of the Mageocracy attributed the credits she had accrued to her prospector for uncovering an unpolished gem— one that, once cut and mounted, could rival the Heart of Flames.

Little did their "Friends" know that her wizened, deathless hubby had anticipated the outburst at the Brisbane Line since the evening he had found a half-wild child-sorceress hugging a dead dog's shaggy carcass. "Alfie" was the drained mutt's name, the sorceress recalled, and initially, she had loathed the kind, smiling Mage who had refused to raise her pup from the dead.

As if mocking her forlorn recollection, the Arctic wind howled, encircling her lone figure like a pack of Frost Wolves. Here at the Earth's end, the Planes of Water, Salt and Ice grew salient as angle and distance muted the presence of Radiance and Fire.

The cold did not bother the sorceress as she watched the ice crystals kiss her flawless snow-white skin. Now and then, when she did feel the cold and her body became aware of the absence beside her, she would wonder if her decision in Eger was the beginning of an end or the beginning of something beyond herself.

Thankfully, the nostalgia lasted only a second. With a rising sense of self-caution, the sorceress suppressed her sentimentalities. Perhaps, if she still lived in civilised society, someone would accuse her with the worst crime a woman could commit— but what consolation could regret offer when there had been no choice?

It was too late anyhow. Presently, in her depthless Soul Well, a million lingering shards from every being on Terra: Men, Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Saurians, Mermen, Birdmen, Insects and Draconids; the once-living and the undying, the physical and the incorporeal, all churned in the Astral soup that was her Essence Pool, driving her onward.

"Your Ladyship…" A lithe contour half-rose from the shadows formed by a low-rising sun that drew claw-like stretches of shade over the blighted landscape. The speaker was a Wight, a lieutenant in her loose organisation of peers; a faceless, murky ghost garbed in a cowl of anonymity. "Lord Sszrar reports that his Shoals are—"

_TSSSS!_ The earth shook.
Great plumes of abruptly superheated frost tore through the glacial sheets.

Her conversation with the Wight was checked by a monstrous predator famed for brutal power bursting from the snow. As it emerged, the linen landscape seemed to move with it, shedding algae-rich permafrost as it rose to its full height. From a billowing maw, great gouts of steam huffed as its multiple hearts inspired action, filling its conduits with molten metal. As it panted, droplets of liquified earth fell from its charred hide, drumming the hard soil with instant beads of dirty alloy.

Their intruder was an Emperor Ursine of the Magma subtype, a monster that should not exist in a place where Elemental Fire waned, and the frost ruled.

"How uncouth." Besides the Witch in black, her companion Wight crouched in the shade of her erect figure. The Ursine were an ancient species from the time of Elves. Even an earthly variant commanded a respectable tier of power. A specimen so large and so dense with Elemental mana could possess enough prowess to warp the landscape.

"Do take a civilised form." The sorceress frowned when her sheer attire flared and flailed from the heat.

"You think it's easy to pierce through the Planes and emerge in a place as miserable as this?" A thundering voice boomed from the magnificent bear. Different to the susurrating Sylvan spoken by her companion, the Elemental speech of the Fire Sea were all hiss and crackle.

"It's no reason to be rude. Know that soon, both the Dauphiness and our leader will grace us. I would not have either of them offended before we divide our rights and duties. How pleased might you be if your counterpart bursts through the crust riding a Dreadnaught Leviathan?"

"Ho? Your sponsor has chosen to come out of the shadows?" The Ursine began to shrink until it was twice her height, reducing in girth until only a hulking, red-skinned, barrel-chested giant tattooed with searing mystical inscriptions remained. On his head, a long tuft of white hair stood tightly coiled in the shape of a turban, affixed with priceless ornaments wrought from gems and precious metals. Below his tapered waist, the Elemental's trunk-like legs ended in massive red feet clawed with obsidian. Where the Efreet stood, his bronze bangles smouldered, polluting the atmosphere with whiffs of nostril-singing sulphur.

The Elemental cracked his neck. In the Efreet's molten-metal eyes, the sorceress recognised a smouldering thirst.

"One would think you'd abhor mortal flesh," she mocked the creature's unnatural, inter-species impulse. "Little wonder you've yet to ascend, Lord Zodiam. For shame."

"So long as we smoulder, we are slaves to the death-desire." The Efreeti Emir did not bother hiding his wanton impulse. "In beings with vital-forces as rich as we, the impulse for blissful oblivion parallels the lust for conquest. Such is the Elder One's will, is it not? As natural as the molten core of our home where the spheres conjoin. I am a man, and you, a woman— what shame should this one feel? In this, you may be unique, O Witch of Untamable Hunger."

Before the sorceress could offer a riposte, a seaspray surrounded them, setting her dress to glisten and the Efreeti's skin to hiss and pop.

"Correct, there is no equal to the Void Witch on all of Terra, not even in the lightless depths, O Emir from the Sea of Sand and Fire." The voice that joined them arrived as a cloud of congealing mist, growing more solid with distance until finally, an exquisite face materialised with a complexion the translucence of brilliant aquamarine.

Their finned ally arrived as anticipated, her scales clad in the sheerest of gossamer. Unlike Human armour, the true daughters of the sea wrapped themselves in spirit-garments wrought from the skin of their beloved kin. In the deep depth where the weight of countless fathoms warped the Planes themselves, no physical apparel could be worn that did not impede the movement of the wearer. It was for this reason that a Mermen's most prideful possession was their highly-evolved body, each specialised for survival against the ten-thousand-and-one threats seeking to engulf the Sea-kin at every instance of their lives.

As one, the two inclined their chins. Nin Gak was a youthful Priestess blessed by the Watchers in the Deep, a Dauphiness ruling over a billion souls and thus, worthy of their respect.

But despite the Mermaid's adolescence, the sorceress and the Efreet knew better than to underestimate their bioluminescent companion. Where the Efreeti received their knowledge from their ancestors, the Mermen endured through their unseen patrons. Though Nin Gak's body was youthful, her mind may well be an instrument millenniums in the making.

"We now await our leader," the Witch of the Void said to either of her lauded companions.

"Milady. Our Lord has arrived." At her prompt, the obfuscated shadow beneath the sorceress stepped into the light. "This one shall now excuse herself."

Abruptly, the female figure began to change. From underneath the cowl came the sound of snapping bone and transmuting flesh, then in one, agonising pull, the figure stood, removing the headpiece covering his face.

"Lillybird," the man addressed the raven-haired sorceress with a faint, paternal smile. "I thank thee. And to our partners, welcome."

"Emir Zodaim, Dauphiness Nin Gak, may I refer your attention to the architect of our endeavour—" the sorceress dipped her head at the knife-eared male standing straight as an oak. "If you wish to address our compatriot directly, he fancies the name Malakath."

"A Ljósálfar bearing the name of a Svartálfar Elder One?" The Efreet's nostrils, which resembled the hungering orifice of carmine carnivorous plants, swallowed the air. "What are you?"

"I sense that we are as fellow Vessels… but who is your patron?" the Mermen Priestess drank in the ambient mana, flaring her pink gills as the flow of slow-forming rime filtered through her transmuted organ.

The Elf raised a hand to dismiss the creatures' invasive enquiry.

"Well met, Princelings of Fire and Water." The Elf took a moment to stretch out his newly formed body. From the portions of their speaker not covered by the heavy-set robes, the Elementals could make out the man's lustrous blonde brows and Mithril-hued hair, marking the Demi-human as a "Light Elf", elder beings that hailed from the north where the sky-curtains danced, keepers of the old Lore. And as with all Elder-kin, it was impossible to tell his age. "Tis is a pleasure to meet thee both in person. It cannot be easy travelling so far from thy homes, especially thanks to that..."

The foursome looked toward the horizon. There, set against a backdrop of an endless snowdrift, giant bowers stretched upward like vague fingers.

"We meet today to attain assurance." Nin Gak's petite nostrils couldn't help but shrink against the icy air. "Both the Emir and I have committed an immoderate amount of our resources to your cause. The promises you've pledged— if it cannot be met…"

"Have faith, good allies." The Elf's lips curled cruelly. "If not in me, then in the simplicity of the laws that govern the Prime Material Plane. If thou hast questions, I am but here to put thy worries to eternal rest. Be liberal, make thy minds known."

"Then allow me to verify what your pet sorceress has sold us— by what means will you nullify the World Tree's divine protection?" demanded the Efreeti Emir. "I may forcibly bypass its defences, but for our lesser kin, the perimetry is near-inviolable."

"The answer is simple, scion of the Ever-burning Flame, we shall draw out the Serpent to weaken its barrier," replied the Elf. "Without the Frost Wyrm, there shall be no absolute territory. Trees, even one from the beginnings of the world, are merely the material manifestation of order in a sea of chaos. Its trunk has existed since time immemorial, but it possesses no Ego, no will. It is a thing, an aggregate of power, a fount of mana, an anchor, that is all."

"The Serpent will not leave the tree," Nin Gak reminded the Elf. "It is known."

"Not so," the Elf said. "The Serpent can be compelled. If the Frost Flower of Lhîweth suffers, it has no choice but to battle the threats outside its barrier. That's the sole reason for its upkeep, after all."

"How will you compel it?" The Efreet enquired.

"Through my numberless minions." Nin Gak redirected the Efreet's attention unto herself. "I shall commit both of the Great Shoals under my leadership."

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"And for that, thou hast humbled me." The Elf inclined his chin in thanks. "Though the long march may prove wasteful, rest assured that no loss shall be wasted in the end."

"And this will bring forth the Snake from the pocket plane?"

"If the Serpent does not emerge to purify the land," the Elf continued. "Then the dead will rule, and their World Tree can only wilt. Of course, two Shoals, or three, or four shalln't fathom the defences of an Elfhome guarded by a Serpent. For that, we have our Void Witch."

"And I shall do my duty," the sorceress stated flatly. "Two Shoals, or whatever survives, together with the Tree's disrupted ley, should be enough to destabilise the Serpent's bond to Lhîweth, either through consuming it directly, or forcing it into dormancy— the latter, of course, is likelier than the first."

"And even so, a World Tree as ancient as that will not bend nor yield," the Elf known as Malakath continued. "But tis no matter; its decimation was never our purpose."

"Aye. We have agreed to crack the pillars of the Planes, not to fell it." The Efreet Prince agreed.

"Indeed, though thy advantage will endure no more than a decade," the Elf spoke with a tone of regret. "Though overwhelming power may alter the elemental admixture of a place, the Tree is tenacious."

"Whatever the outcome, your folk will have enough time to wreak havoc," the sorceress added her assurance.

"It is strange to me." Nin Gak watched the sorceress and her Elf's impassive faces. "Both the Emir and I know what we shall gain from this endeavour. For myself, our people have always known that Terra was our domain and that these terrestrial 'Humans' must be exorcised like a parasitic barnacle. Zodiam's country as well, has been endlessly harassed by Humans, his kin reduced to Cores and made into weapons and ornaments— but what of yourself? Are you not terrestrial beings of this Plane? Where is your Tree, Elf?"

"Tis a most intimate question." Malakath raised a hand in protest. "Forgive me. We art allies and compatriots, Dauphiness, not friends."

"You say that, but I am committing two Great Shoals— that's four million souls sacrificed to the Void Witch so that we may cripple a sleeping, limbless Wyrm. Is that insufficient cause for trust?"

"Aye, it is out of sincerity that we are here, risking our flesh." The Efreet smouldered. "I am with Nin Gak. Even if you lie, we would like to hear your reasons; else I cannot put it past my conscience to commit my tribe to this frozen wasteland."

"Is the promise of conquest and revenge not persuasive enough?" The Elf chuckled. "We art sincere in our suit, O Emir, else your father would immolate mine immortal Soul for all of eternity."

"I am an excellent judge, dear Elf," Nin Gak assured them. "Do you forget that I am the mistress of a thousand-millions. I can taste falsehoods before they manifest."

The Elf shrugged. "Very well— though our snow-white Lilybird here has a far better tale to tell. Nevertheless, I shall speak of mine with as much courtesy as I can offer without the Accord rending mine soul asunder."

The two Elementals remained unmoved by the Elf's aggrandisement.

Assuming a faint hint of sorrow, the Elf pointed to himself. "This one rages against the chains that tether mine kin. I thrash and howl against the bindings of kismet."

"You seek to escape the karmic wheel?" The Efreeti's pupils burned. "Are you an adherent of Undeath?"

The Elf shook his head.

"No Necromancy. Nothing so crude will free mine people," he said. "Did thou know that all Humans are born free? Their kind art blank slates, free to be whatever they desire, to succeed, or to fail. Yet we who art ageless sovereigns art bound by kismet. Be we Elf or Elemental, it enshrouds us, forces us into our respective places. The Álfar art tethered to the pillars of the Prime Material. However we struggle, imprisonment is our only reward."

The Elementals furrowed their brows; Zodiam's bushy brows were twin gouts of bright fire, while Nin Gak's sleek scales crinkled and overlapped.

"For thou whose birth was given purpose, it may be hard to imagine the frustration." The Elf laughed. "This one has had a few thousand years to ponder, after all. Can thou even imagine the frustration of such a thing? Living for longer than most civilisation has stood, agonisingly comprehending the limitations of thy sphere and its dumb Pillars— all is futility! If the Humans and the mortal beings art born free, then why should their betters be held in bondage? Why is this the sufferance of my tribe? For whose benefit and at whose command do we yield our sacred selves?"

The Elementals stood in silence, clearly struggling to empathise with the Elf. When the Demi-human said nothing more, they turned to the woman.

"Revenge." Her smile was effortlessly chilling. "I want the Commonwealth to bleed. I want their Mageocracy to fall. I want everything my husband had ever touched to turn to dust and ruin and ash. I want to see his beloved Humanity fed to the fishes."

For some reason, though they had known the female for far longer than the mad Elf, their irrespective scales and hair suddenly stood on end.

To Nin Gak, the sorceress' vitriol regarding her mate was utterly alien. In her palace, she would spawn her eggs in a pool, after which a host of Champions standing at the apex of a billion beings would fertilise her eggs. Then, as elvers, her children would cannibalise each other's potentials until a dozen Priestesses and Champions emerged as the next generation's successors.

Conversely, Zodiam thought of the Sultanate's famed seraglio from which his mother came and the sheer number of adversaries whose Cores she had to immolate to attain the power she now wielded in the Brass Court. Female Elementals, be they Djinn of the Sky, Efreeti of the Fire Sea, the noble Marids of the coast, or the wily Shaitan hiding among the Sand Sea, all held grudges with an intensity rivalling True Dragons. If what the Void Sorceress professed was the truth, then the Emir could only worship the woman's malice. Passion, in his mind, made a female desirable. As his mother had shown, few appetites burned as bright and black as unbridled hate.

"You would spite a mate by making his entire tribe pay?" Against the invading cold and the stabilising dimensions forcing his energies to disperse, Zodiam warmed his body with Elemental Fire, once more turning a healthy, molten orange.

"Late... husband," the sorceress added. "He is with the Void now."

The Efreet licked his lips. "But one's tribe..."

"Elf or Human, we art outcasts now, beings with neither tribe nor home," the Elf interceded on his sorceress' behalf. "The Witch of the Void and I, we art the forgotten ghosts of abandoned conscience— the hollow ones— straw-stuffed Revenants belonging to a vengeful, spectral band. Does that satisfy?"

Their audience showed neither compassion nor satisfaction.

"No? Then call it revenge," the Elf conceded. "Why complicate a simple thing?"

"Let us return to our prior topic." Zodiam chose not to dwell. "I now perceive the disruption to the region caused by our assault on the Tree. However, I do not understand how terraforming these frozen wilds will lead to the accomplishment of more enduring goals."

"Hahaha, trust our kin of flames to grow confused at the power of water." Nin Gak laughed, then offered her summer compatriot a shot at understanding autumn. "Look around you, exalted Emir. Know that an enormous volume of liquid is stowed in this vast wasteland connected to the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Salt, Ice and Water. The disruption of the ley-lines, together with the proliferation of your kin, will be enough to return much of it to the ocean, for a time."

"And?"

"The overabundance of Elemental Water will cause Terra's Planar Axis to overcompensate," the Elf continued with an all-knowing serenity. "As the Axis Mundi seeks to rebalance itself, the dimensional instabilities that afflict the Prime Material with grow by three to four-fold. Mana Storms the likes of which the planet has never seen will afflict its equatorial regions. Quakes compounded by a recession of the Elemental Plane of Earth and the expansion of the Elemental Plane of Water will plague its diminishing shores. Even without Leviathans, Priestess Nin Gak's Shoals will be able to access the innermost reaches of Humanities' coastal cities. For both of thy folk, there shall be such access to thine Planes the likes of which has not existed since the Dragon Age."

"Not to mention," the Human sorceress added to the conversation. "Dark and aberrant things long-hidden in the dark spaces between the Planes will emerge to feast."

Zodiam cocked his magnificently wrapped head. "What of our Human allies? Their goals seemed self-defeating."

"Humanity tis a strange, multi-headed beast," the eternal Ljósálfar answered the Elemental Emir. "Wouldst thou believe that a portion of Humanity desires this outcome? Tis insanity, but then again, such is human freedom. Within their warring tribe, our sympathetic compatriots have lost sway. For them, this blood-letting shall serve as a way to reclaim power. In their eyes, only by surrendering the good of the many can the few arise."

"Recall that, unlike Lord Malakath's kin, Humanity is afflicted by impurity," Nin Gak explained to Zodiam. "Like our kin, they are split into mortal fodder and sorcerous predator. Presently, their leading echelon believes that the weaker humans should be protected and sheltered by the powerful— but our allies believe in the opposite."

The Elf laughed. "Tis nothing so noble, sweet Priestess. Verily, they simply loath the sharing of power. Imagine if an Imp had the same say as your esteemed self, Lord Zodiam— because a hundred-thousand Imps made this one Imp their representative."

"I would extinguish them all!" Zodiam sucked in a breath of frigid air, feeling his head throb from the frosty breath.

"Precisely," the Elf nodded approvingly. "Long ago, our allies once held the reigns of power. Now deprived of their influence, they see no more merit in feeding their federation. For them, playing the Necromancer over a shattered carcass is preferable to permitting others to rule in their stead."

"It's a fish-eat-fish world." Nin Gak shrugged. "The humans are the same as us in this regard, though they do try very hard to suppress what comes naturally to them, unlike our Void Witch."

"Aye." The Elemental Emir laughed. "From the mana in her body, I can only say our vanguard has not held back for some time."

"You flatter." The woman smiled, then looked up at the horizon. Awed by one of the world's old existences, the group allowed the conversation to fade.

"We proceed as planned." Nin Gak was the first to concede. She had a lot to lose, but at the same time, her Mermen bred quick and food was scarce. "I do apologise for my impatience, but your air is murder, and my feet feel as though pierced by jagged coral."

"Yes, we proceed." Zodiam flared once more, heating the frigid atmosphere around his polymorphed avatar. Unlike the Mermaid, what the Emir had in mind was the accomplishments brought by his success and his place in the line of succession once their father ascends. "By the Sultan's Mark, the Fire Sea shall not rescind its commitment."

"Very well." The Elf bowed. "Thou hast mine word, O Lord and Lady of Fire and Water. Though in the aftermath, the Grove of Lhîweth may stand and the world's balance return— Humanity shall ebb as the receding noon-tide and thy time of reckoning will satisfy. Lilybird, canst thou escort our guests? This far from their natural abode, it is inconvenient for them to return."

"Very well." The sorceress turned and swung her arm, splattering the broken ground of the tundra with tenebrous ink. Very quickly, the tar-like discharge blossomed into proliferating clusters of milling Hydras, eating into the earth until an intricate, multi-layered Mandala formed.

"Mass Teleportation!" The sorceress finished the eighth-tier invocation before the Efreet's body could cool, burning the Mandala mid-night black with mana from the Quasi-Elemental Plane of the Void.

Their august guests could hardly hide their aversion as an obsidian portal the shape of an elliptical gash connected the Prime Material and the Astral.

"It's ready, Dauphiness Nin, Emir Zodiam, step this way—"

The Elementals regarded one another.

"Humans have a saying." The Efreet grinned at the Mermaid. "Ladies first."

Unamused, Nin Gak stepped through the portal.

Toward the sorceress, the Fire Elemental winked, then was gone, swallowed by the pitch-black Void.

The remaining two individuals waited in silence in case their guests inadvertently returned. When no Elemental royalty re-materialised, they relaxed their guard and shut the portal.

"Wights—" Malakath hissed at the shrinking shadows now that the sun hung higher. "How fairs the south?"

From the distending shadow of the sorceress came the milling forms of the organisation's Essence-fed sycophants, some tall, some hideous, some short and others stout. All of them occupied Avatars consisting of vile, chimeric vermin fed with the sorceress' consumptive mana.

"— The terraforming is on schedule— Emperor Sszrar sends— Six Shoals of his finest— for our southern endeavour."

"His demands?"

"He desires— every coast of Oceania," The shadow's speech jittered and halted, the lag in delivery an unfortunate symptom of the World Tree's dimensional pacification. "—Gunther Shultz—"

The Elf looked toward the sorceress, who stood unfazed.

"Tell the greedy whale he can have Sydney, Shultz, and whatever else he desires," the sorceress scoffed. "He's seen what can be accomplished when the desire for conquest overrules compassion for his creatures. Remind Sszrar that it is because he failed to commit the entirety of his forces that Sydney still stands. A Holy War must be paid in blood, that's the way of the world."

"— the way."

"Notify our sorceress if any changes should occur," Malakath dismissed the shadow before addressing another. "Speak, what of the Svartálfar?"

"The Guardian—Sea of Trees— unaware," another phantom jittered, his movements like that of a faulty Golem. "—uncaring— insular."

"That's Elves for you." The sorceress shrugged at her partner. "Were you expecting anything else?"

"Perhaps," The Light Elf glanced at the ice tree on the horizon. "Though maybe not."

"Are you certain we can't bring down the tree?" The woman wet her ruby-red lips. "The vitality there could be put to use on our next project, and the next."

"Not without dire cost, Lilybird," the Elf declined. "A failure to defend the Tree is the problem of the Grove; as is the Serpent's pacification by a superior force. There are no eternal victors, for that which is bound to nature must ebb and flow, whether by interference, occurrence or chance. Mine kind will not act harshly to failure. BUT— if we fell a pillar, then the meddlesome Hvítálfar may put aside their split from the Svartálfar to cooperate. That would be a dire prospect."

"If our involvement is discovered and our purpose fails." The sorceress chuckled. "Every Grove on Terra and their allies as well would hunt us down from the Prime Material to the Unformed Land. Is that not a direr prospect?"

"We cannot and will not fail." The Elf faced his partner, his hard eyes growing soft. "Yes, tis dire, Elizabeth. I thank thee and love thee for thy labours."

From Devourer to Revenant, one bloodless face observed the other.

"Be very careful, Malakath," Elizabeth Sobel's voice was a whisper on the wind. "If I didn't know better, I'd say your Humanity is leaking."


The exit from the Grot involved enduring silence from Gunther and Gwen while Alesia said goodbye to Sufina with tears and kisses for their Master. When finally they emerged from the Grot into the natural light, Gwen inhaled the insufferably humid air with rare relish. Beside her, Gunther readjusted his Message Device, then informed them that they were several hours off— and that the time in Sufina's home appeared to pass slower than in the material world, a testament to Sufina's undiminished prowess.

After that, the trio made for the thunderstruck Akimvrishka, where Gunther announced they would soon leave to attend to their duties as Officers of Sydney Tower, leaving Gwen behind to cater to the consequences of her compassion.

While the ship conditioned itself for the voyage from Abang to Singapore, the siblings took a moment to bounce one another's thoughts against the forecastle.

"If anyone can clarify all of Master's intrigues from his early years as Morden's ward to his last days with Sobel, it would be Sufina." Their resident Tower Master paced back and forth, pondering the new hand they had just been dealt. "All I can say is that Sufi is far too cunning a being for our little sister to wrestle by her lonesome self."

"Yeah, I mean— if she can Essence Tap from Al, a legit Mythic," Gwen agreed by raising both brows in genuine worry. "For sure Sufi's got nasty tricks hidden up her canopy."

"At least Master's safe," Alesia disapproved of her siblings' antagonism. "That counts for something."

"Oh, of course, he's looking better than he had in years," Gwen remarked drily. "That's no joke either. I wouldn't be surprised if he got up and started calling our names."

Gunther chose not to comment. "It's too bad we can't keep a closer eye on Sufi. Her sanctum is all but impenetrable by Divination."

"Just as well. I mean, we're keeping our Master's condition between us, right?"

"No worries there, what's there to tell?" Alesia scoffed with a snort. "Borderline Necromancy isn't exactly something to boast about."

"I've no doubt Sufi can perform Necromancy if she inclined. If she has access to Master's conduits and spells, I don't see why she can't figure out a workaround for Negative Energy." Gunther leaned against the rails. "Your thoughts?"

"My head is this big right now." Gwen mimed with her hands the act of holding an overripe melon. "That said, Essence Tap isn't Soul Tap per se. Its sorcery used by the Dark Elves. I am using it as a way to catalyse Greenkin Totemcraft, and my variant has been certified by The Shard. Granted they're similar, as both spells share root Sigils in their IMS conversions. The distinction is there; however, Professor Brown was very particular. With Essence Tap and Sympathetic Life-Link, we're going to figure out a way to help other Void Mages."

"I meant the flesh-stitching," the Ex-Paladin corrected himself. "It takes a practised hand to instantly repair organs afflicted with Negative Energy, not to mention Void Mana. Did you know that it's far easier to manipulate Negative Energy than to neutralise it with Clerical sorcery? That's why the Necros are so adept at using Death Magic without catastrophic self-harm. I don't know anyone capable of performing such a feat as the Master had managed, especially when the surgeon is concurrently the dying patient."

"He is 'Deathless' Henry," Gwen concurred. "A guy two centuries in the making has got unplumbed depth for sure. I mean, not even you knew about his Hungary adventures until the Chandler incident."

"That's true." Gunther nodded. "Albeit Master never asked for our past either. I guess it's a little too late to regret not exchanging a few secrets. I respected him too much to keep digging."

"What's your big-bad secret?" their Void sorceress grinned wolfishly. "Is it about your family in Europe?"

"Do you have a good secret to trade?" Her Brother-in-craft regarded their smirking sister. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Oi! That's unfair," Alesia interrupted them. "You two know everything about me! I don't have anything to bargain with!"

"You haven't told Allie about Europe either?" Gwen said incredulously.

"That part of my life is dead and buried." Gunther met her eyes with caution. "As Master once said, I am not dwelling on the past, and neither should you."

"And that's how we end up knowing nothing about our Master." Gwen grinned at her hypocritical brother. "What if our Tower Master had a secret fiancée in Europe?"

"They better be damn good at Abjuration—" Alesia huffed.

"Need I remind you it's YOUR Grimoires we're after?" Gunther gave Gwen a flick on the forehead. "If you want to know, we'll talk later. For now, I need to put contingencies for Sufina into place. Allie, we're leaving before our homewrecker causes any more trouble."

"Aww, you've upset your brother!" Alesia laughed.

Gwen smirked in turn. "Say hi to Surya for me. Tell Opa I'll drop in mid-semester if I can."

"I shall." Gunther reached out and patted their youngest on the head. "Will you be fine with this lot?"

"I'll send out the Familiars and the Dogs," Gwen assured her siblings. "Fair flight, Brother. You too, Allie. Take care!"

With nothing else left to be said, the trio changed into their civilian attires. After the fact, the siblings embraced once more, then the husband and wife pair was on their way.

Watching the diminishing pair of companionable silhouettes slipping through the air, Gwen couldn't help but think of Evee. She imagined the two of them as the same couple fading into the horizon and tasted an anticipatory sweetness on her lips. After a moment, however, her chest grew sore, and her mood grew strange, so she poured her feelings into her clamouring Familiars, furthermore whipping up a new pack of Void and Lightning dogs and their alphas, Astro and Buck.

Presently, her Void Hounds had a hint of serpentine to their sleek heads and a low-gloss petrol-sheen attached to their oily bodies, making her wonder if the continued growth of her Essence-producing Astral Body had anything to do with the morphic detailing. Comparatively, her Lightning Dogs resembled little Ariels, shaggy with manes of stabbing electricity that anaesthetised her fingertips, but were otherwise related to the Wolfhounds found on the Highlands.

"EE! EE!" Ariel cooed.
"SHAA! SHAA!" Caliban was more interested in what lied in the belly of the ship.

"Nanang!" she called out from the forecastle deck, summoning the third mate. Naturally, Caliban was now First Mate and Ariel, her handsome second-in-command. As for herself, she now assumed the role of the Captain of this Raft of the Medusa.

The Indonesian skipper grovelled, albeit at a safe distance.

"It's time," Gwen commanded the group who insisted on falling to their knees every time Ariel or Caliban passed. Strangely, the men and women felt less inclined to bend the knee for the Familiar's two-legged mortal Mistress. "Set course for Singapore!"

"EE! EE!" Ariel gave the order for full-steam ahead.
"SHAA! SHAA!"
"ARRRROOOOOOO—" The hounds bayed.

"Aye-aye, Lord Ariel!" the Third Mate relayed the Kirin's orders. "We should arrive at Singapore's coastal waters in ten hours!"

At day-break, the Akimvrishka met a Coast Guard Cruiser hosting a mid-tier Mage Flight as they crossed the strait of Batam. Gwen flew out to meet the Mages, growing glad when they did not attack but proclaimed to be sent by Tower Master Lee at the behest of her Brother-in-craft.

"We'll take it from here, Ma'am." Captain Chen saluted. "The Akimvrishka will be docked and decommissioned, its cargo inspected, re-valued and sold at auction. We'll credit your share of the CCs and HDMs for capturing the illicit vessel."

"What of the crew?" she asked, mindful of her original purpose.

"As a favour to the Devourer of Shenyang, there shall be a measure of leniency," the youthful Captain assured her, though Gwen knew her Brother-in-craft shouldered the real favour. "If they pass questioning, the crew can choose indentured service for five years, or try their luck at the public lashes. After that, they'll be deported to their Frontier homes once processed. Of course, we'll give the Mages a choice to work in Singapore if they prove obedient."

"They would stay after all that?" Gwen watched the crew of the Akimvrishka and was surprised to find that the sailors appeared quite happy to be arrested now that they no longer had a meeting with the Mermen below the Singapore Strait.

"We regularly recruit from the locals near the Java sea." Chen's gaze swept over the men and women bound with arcane-cords enchanted with a modified Lock spell. "Though it seems the Wildlands have had a talent boom of late if the pirates are soaking up Rogue Mages by the hundreds."

"Is the fortress city not interested in enriching and securing the Javanese islands?" Gwen asked.

"I wouldn't presume to discern our regional policy, Ma'am," Captain Chen apologised. "I will inform you, however, that the zone ratings for the regions of Sumatra, Kalimantan, and the Indonesian enclave changes with the currents; until there's a way to stabilise the region or purge it of Mermen, our city isn't going to get over-ambitious. The late Prime Minister Lee has our developmental plan mapped out, and under his legacy, we haven't misstepped so far. Is our arrangement for the crew acceptable to you, Magus Song?"

Gwen took a gander at Nanang, their Third Mate. She had spent the night conversing with the Water Mage and his seamen, eventually coming to empathise with their origins and the culture of piracy that afflicted the Java Sea. From history, she understood that the continental coastline linking India, Myanmar, Thailand, Malaysia, Cambodia and Vietnam had seeded the island chains of the South China Sea from Palawan to Port Moresby.

The Human settlements of the Javanese Frontier were a loose compilation of coastal settlers from the continents who had interbred with the Demi-humans of the South Sea. On those verdant and deadly paradise islands, men and women afflicted with scales, tails, fins and gills were commonplace in the Orange and Purple Zones. Closer to Singapore, only a handful of Green Zones like Jakarta or Kuala Lumpur were safe for unsullied Human habitation.

As a measure against the unpredictable tides, the folk had taken up worship of Elementals— most often the land gods, other times local monsters with religion and beliefs derived from the mainland from which their diverse people had first arrived.

In the decades following the Beast Tide, international recovery efforts had increased sea trade one-hundred fold, bringing food, education and technology to an otherwise forgotten colonial Frontier. It was because, as a result of the proportional increase in security and resources, the number of Human settlements in the South China Sea increased exponentially.

"Yes." Gwen conceded that if she were to do something for Nanang, it would be out of mutual interest and not some half-baked compassion she felt by merely sharing a Maotai with the Mages to boost their chances at surviving the lash. "And the matter with the Mermen using my image?"

"We'll lodge a report with the Tower," the Captain said. "As for the Homel Food Company, I am afraid you'll have to approach your patron yourself. The Mageocracy has limited sway with the Americans."

"Understood. Thank you, Captain Chen." Gwen dipped her chin. "You've done well."

"It is we who should thank you for gracing Singapore." The Captain saluted. "And for capturing these pirates. I am certain the information provided by the crew here will lead us to their caches and allow us to intercept their shipping routes. There have been ships missing in the South China Sea since February; we've no doubt more pirates are behind the incidents, perhaps even working with the Mermen."

Stolen novel; please report.

Gwen nodded. "Then I shall be returning to London. If there's anything else you need from me, the Tower has my offices' contacts for both Cambridge and the Isle of Dogs. One more thing though, may I donate the proceeds from the ship's inventory? Does the Singapore Tower have any Frontier aid programs for building schools, farms, medical facilities and so forth in the region of Java?"

"We do, though that's outside my jurisdiction."

"Then please inform Master Lee of my desire to see the lives of the survivors improved," she said. "It wouldn't do for their kin to take up piracy once more. If a city wants to nip the problem at the root, it has to start at the bottom with education and opportunity."

"By your will, Magus Song."

"Then you have my thanks." Gwen took a step back, her body drifting slowly into the air. "Please keep me informed."

With the Captain nodding, her mind at ease and the Mages below saluting in awe, the Class VI War Mage zapped across the horizon as a blue-green streak of fulminating lightning, wiping the fate of the otherworldly refugees from her conscience.

London's October was a relatively dry period of the year suitable for both summer and autumn attires thanks to its cooling, mid-teen weather. It was also the season when the city's deciduous trees transformed its emerald avenues into cosy fire.

For her second international transit, Gwen's ISTC hopping proved uneventful, arriving and exiting Heathrow without so much as an inventory questionnaire from Customs, after which she made for the Isle of Dogs.

In early October, the Isle had four projects under concurrent construction. With two months to go on her Fabricator hire, her Executive Officer Eric Walken had engaged the Red Citadel in talks to extend the lease— on principle, however; the Dwarves refused to allow precious Engines out of the Murk once the Debt of Haj-Zül was repaid. It meant that, if Gwen were desperate, then she would have to further the Debt by applying herself to the exploration of the Murk; a prospect that had grown grim of late as the Dwarves and the Human Adventurers delved deeper into the abyss.

Of the projects, three were residential high-rises with commercial space below. The fourth was a twenty-storey business building and the first of the Isle's ambitious attempts at attracting government agencies to take up a long-term lease. From Lady Grey, Gwen had heard that Scotland Yard was looking to relocate from Victoria Street. In her old world, the Police Headquarters had eyed the Embankment opposite Westminster for their renovated headquarters near an address close to No. 10 Downing. In her present London, proximity to the Shard was far more critical than closeness to parliament, meaning if the building offered a low enough rental for a large enough space, the City of London may just take up her offer. For the Isle of Dogs, having a critical government department take up residence would officialise the newly revamped district as a second city centre and bring about an avalanche of business. In Gwen's plan, the influx of Mages would naturally gentrify the region and push out the NoM residents, who could make a tidy sum from selling their piecemeal leaseholds and taking up better residences in Greenwich and Charlton twenty minutes away, bringing advantage to all.

Naturally, the rapid rise in land price and the ballooning of wealth would require her auditors to keep a keen eye on the Crystals flowing into and out of the Isle. Transparency was paramount for reporting increased economic activity she brought to the region; a key metric when haggling for additional permits.

Arriving overhead above the ferry pier, she entered the Printing Press via the rafters, where a loft had been constructed to accommodate her unorthodox mode of entry. This late in the afternoon, the Press was a steaming, churning, screeching chaos of organised mayhem. From the delivery bay, Worker Golems piloted by trained NoMs moved barrels of unenchanted ink into the mixing room alongside four-legged Mitsubishi MK-Vs hauling paper rolls by the pallet.

This late, the Dwarves were no longer a common sight, with most of them working in the deeper regions of the Press some six-storeys down from the ground floor, regulating the engines' mechanical and alchemical gut-flora so that the belts and rollers above could churn out circulation West Ferry vomited into London and beyond daily.

In the west quadrant, where magical dampening had been put into place to hinder the noise, Gwen found Lorenzo and the editorial staff debating over the front page. Before entering, she took a moment to listen in to see what nastiness her team got up to in her absence. Within, Lorenzo voiced that Adventurers serving as front-line fodder for Murk Dives should be the centrepiece of the next edition. At the same time, his assistant, a war journalist Diviner called Wyatt Bennett, felt that the story would shed an unflattering light on their boss.

"Gentlemen!" She stepped in without knocking. The Editorial Room, as per Lorenzo's demand, had an open door policy. "What ails my board of truth peddlers?"

"Boss!" Lorenzo nodded. "Alright, Wyatt, ask her yourself."

"Magus Song." Wyatt's expression appeared wary. "There's been unacceptable casualties in the Murk. The Dwarves still speak fondly of you, but the public's opinion of the alliance has taken a nosedive. Most of the Mages who came back from the Murk laden with loot in June now returned in body bags after encountering monsters of a higher tier than the Red Citadel had anticipated. The Dwarves have done what they can, and last I heard, they are securing a beachhead to building a new Forward Operating Citadel. Nonetheless, at minimum, a quarter of the first wave of Adventurer who went in did not return."

"Yikes." Gwen grimaced. "My condolences, but I am involved, how?"

"You aren't." Bennett sighed. "The other papers are saying it's all your fault, though."

"I see." Gwen gave the matter some thought and realised there wasn't that much more spin to be spun. She was responsible for open trade with the Dwarves, and she did invite Human Mages to loot the Murk. From December to March, she had taken in the fame and the kudos, now, she should shoulder some of the blame. "Get some statements from the Dwarves and just tell it as it is. It's futile to convince folk who don't trust the sight of their eyes nor the words striking their ears anyway. Whether they're a vocal minority or a Cabal with a chip on their shoulder, leave the matter to Walken."

"See?" Lorenzo grinned at Bennett. "You can trust Gwen to fight falsehoods with the truth."

"Yep." Gwen gave her editors a confident grin. "For journalists, The Sun can't seem to heed the advice that one shouldn't quarrel with anyone who buys ink by the barrel. Don't despair, Magus Bennett, once our reach supersedes those yellow rags, I'll buy their devalued shares, and we can initiate a hostile takeover. The METRO will have the last laugh; you have my word…"

"I'll be looking forward to that!" Lorenzo laughed as well, with the rest of the editorial department following more confusedly.

"Anyway, I got a cool story for you guys." Gwen waited for the room to calm. With a casual invocation, she conjured up a few Illusion-empowered projections of pictures taken with a Lumen-Recorder. "Check out the tats on these…"

In detail, she told the others of her discovery in the South Sea, then informed Lorenzo that for this incident to fade, they had to control the narrative. As she possessed the raw images and the first-hand account, she would provide them with some riveting interviews and theories, and they could be the ones to initiate the enquiry.

"Excellent, I'll go and generate the Quests at the Shard right now." Wyatt volunteered.

"Keep the rewards on the highest tier," Gwen advised. "If by some off chance someone does find out why the fish were wearing my face, I want to be informed pronto."

The others agreed.

With her impending infamy sorted at least for now, Gwen then visited Walken, finding the Magister buried behind a small mountain of accounts, files, contracts and reports. Walken's present office, now lovingly dubbed by the locals as the "Bunker" thanks to the Herald Sun, had recently completed an expensive leather and oiled oak renovation.

"When are you coming back to do some real work?" The Magister demanded of the giggling girl watching him from the safety of the doorway.

"Saturday," Gwen said. "I've got Lectures all week."

"Ah, yes." Eric Walken nodded, appearing to recall that his boss was still a student. "How's Sufina? Did you retrieve the Scale? From the lack of changes in your general aura, I am going to say no."

Gwen made her way into the office, searched around the polished facade and found the liqueur cabinet.

"Aren't you a bit young for that sort of thing?" Walken remarked on her casually topping off a glass of Dwarven rum. "Care for a cigar to go with that?"

Gwen took a swig, then topped the glass again once her body warmed up. "You correctly guessed that we saw Sufi and had a chat. After that, we made a deal."

"Free to elaborate?"

"Somewhat. I need your advice on something…" Gwen took a moment to gather her thoughts and to filter out what could be said and what to withhold from her business partner, then relayed what she could about Sufina's angel investment offer. Walken grew increasingly silent as she explained, then fell into a delicate mood.

"… Shultz is right; you need to speak with the Elves. A private World Tree could become a Human-Demi-human dispute issue." Walken spoke after a while. "As for what London can offer, consult with the Marchioness of Ely. Don't worry about secrecy, and don't fret over the news getting out."

"Why? Wouldn't privacy be better?"

"This is one of those rare instances were the more people know of your capacity to establish a potential Green Zone, the less advantage they'll have over you by whatever means. As with your Void talent, you're a prize for others to win over. All you need to do is accept the best deal offered to you."

"And if someone doesn't want to compete fairly?" Gwen grinned. "That's only to be expected here in London."

"Then bring it up in public and let the world know." Walken grinned back. "You do have a newspaper, after all, one that's free. I look forward to the day our company offers lands partitions in a safe zone."

"Hahaha…" Gwen sipped her rum. "You know it!"

With her mind at ease, Gwen addressed her underground staff, dropped off Chinese souvenirs for her Dwarven Engineseers and Alchemist, then made ready for Cambridge. On her final tour around the Isle of Dogs, she inspected Evee's clinic-soup-kitchen-orphanage and spoke to some of the staff to ensure that whatever Elvia had left in her care ran swimmingly, then was on her way to report to Lady Grey.

There was a lecture, Gwen recalled, set for the next morning— one that encompassed the very thing she now needed to comprehend: Contemporary Planar Theory.

The "New" Museum Site east of Corpus Christi and north of Pembroke was a bit of a misnomer. It was a common misunderstanding for folk who hadn't grown up around Cambridge or had siblings talented enough to attend the prestigious college. Like the other sites in Cambridge, the New Museum, which was two centuries old, consisted of Spellcraft libraries dedicated to the study of Magical Theory. The inner court was home to august offices of learning like the Old Cavendish Building with its Regency facade, sitting beside the neo-Victorian exterior of Mond Hall, where Dwarven artisans once more graced. Its resident scholars were famous for carrying out breakthroughs in Spellcraft, serving as home to Meisters like Allenberg and Goulding, surnames synonymous with textbooks. Most famously, the site was home to the posthumously awarded Evoker-Conjurer Magi James Chadwick, discoverer of the "Mote"— the invisible, smallest unit of metric possible for mana.

It was here in the McCrum Lecture Hall that junior students newly arrived for the Michaelmas Term had their first taste of Cambridge's free-range learning style— that and their first stickybeak at the leggy Devourer of Shenyang.

"On the lore of Axis Mundi—" Magister Addison Andrews, first Chair of Cosmology and Planar Theory at Corpus Christi, persisted with her lecture, pointedly ignoring the eye-catching celebrity in their midst. At Cambridge, though there was no shortage of lords and ladies— the love child of the Herald Sun's back and front pages nonetheless remained a cause for distraction. The Void sorceress' daring outfit notwithstanding, the professor's professionalism was undeterred.

"— Also known by folklore across the continents as the stem of the cosmos, the loci of the world, and simple 'The Pillars' by our Demi-human compatriots, exist as a metaphysical conceit tied to nature. For the academics among you learned in the subject, you will know that the idea is closely tied to current conjecture on the application of ley-lines. Such is because, across our known world, the understanding of Axis Mundi varies. Under the auspice of Christendom, we associate the Axis with trees— as in the Tree of Knowledge, at the centre of which lies Eden."

The lecturer took a drink of water while the projected Illusion of a woman, a man, a tree and a cheeky snake changed "slides".

"In the metaphysical sense, this is a localised belief. The Axis Mundi is, in reality, is akin to Conduits. Such Conduits form through the natural flow of energies between the Planes, derived by forces in a manner akin to estuaries, governed by nature and as such, bound by the laws of the Prime Material. For example, the Chinese have for thousands of years believed that their Middle Kingdom to be the loci of the Axis, though our history strongly disagrees with theirs. The Central Continent is a nation where trees are not venerated— likely because of the lack of Elves, or some other historical calamity. Rather, what they worship is something else. Magus Song, I believe you're well-acquainted with China since you're a Fudan alumina, what do you suppose replaced the Western tree in the Oriental psyche?"

"Er…" a husky, alluring voice piped up. "Mountains? The Five Peaks?"

"Correct." The lecturer awarded the girl with a happy clap. "Mount Heng, Mount Hua, Mount Emei, Mount Tai and Mount Huang. Each, unsurprisingly, is habited by?"

"Elder Dragons?"

"Correct again. Each is home to Wyrms— though that will be for a future lecture. Today, we explore the presence of Axis Mundi as folklore in Planar Theory. If we look toward regions where Elves have less impact on the cultural history of the world, Humans and Demi-humans seldom perceive of the Axis as a 'Tree'. The Japanese, for instance, believed that Mount Fuji serves as the loci ley-line for their island nation. The Teotihuacan tribe of the Aztecs built mock-mountain ziggurats and blessed them with Mage blood to attract the Quetzalcoatl to roost. The summit of Delphi, where the Oracle resides beneath the Great Olive Tree, as well, serves as a half-way example of such nodes."

"What of Demi-humans?" a voice asked from the crowd.

"In Demi-humans, the mythos of trees-as-Axis proliferate. If we look to the Spirits who dominate the Indian subcontinent through theocratic rule, then one may look to the sacred Bodhi Tree where the Magi Buddha attained Enlightenment. A radical example would be Temple Mount, north of the Fire Sea where the Elemental's sacred Flame Tree has torn open a gash into the Elemental Plane of Fire. Distressingly, the Fire Tree isn't a Pillar supporting 'our' Plane, but rather the Efreets' charred home. Finally, for the Were-folk of the Lower Niger Delta, who I am sure you've read about in the METRO, the Sacred Grove of Osun-Osogbo is yet another domain, albeit with neither mount nor tree but a low-lying rainforest. Concurrently, one should not dismiss human-made objects used for worship. The famous Pyramids, for instance, serve as 'Pillars' of Undeath that provide Necromantic mana to the Undead roaming its vicinity, as well as sustain the slumbering Pharaohs and their sleeping God-Priests."

"Are our Towers… a part of the Axis Mundi?" the Devourer of Shenyang asked from the front row.

"Excellent question." The lecturer's voice took on renewed energy as she fell into a familiar rhythm. "But that lecture is slated for week eight. First, let's continue our unpacking of Ley-lines and the pragmatic purpose of harnessing the Axis for the grand purpose of Human expansion!"