“Nighteyes, Demi. Demi, Nighteyes. I forgot to mention how annoying he is.”

Mason set his wife down and tried to step out of the circle. Apex Predator flared with some kind of message about popping a ‘difficulty ‘trivial’ magical barrier’, and that was that. The centaur’s eyes narrowed, his shoulders slumped.

“That took me all day. It was supposed to bind a planar traveler until I lowered the wards.”

“It worked.” Mason took one of the set out water cups and drank it down. “I mean it worked like shit, but it worked. Glad to see you alive and well. Some of the other clans weren’t big fans of yours the last time we met.”

The centaur’s tanned and wind burnt face cracked in a dark smile.

“Demonic invasion has a way of focusing my kind. My class and bloodline are built to guide and fight such things. I’m a necessary evil now, even to my enemies.”

“To being necessary.” Mason finished off the first water and looked at the second, wondering how the God damn shaman would know he’d arrive thirsty.

“Please. I set them both for you.”

The shaman or seer or whatever he was smiled his God damn know it all smile. Mason looked at Demi, who shook her head with obvious amusement. He drank the second cup.

“Since you seem to know everything, can I assume you know why I’m here?”

Night Eyes nodded, then gestured at the tent flap.

“The sun is low. But I assume with your Hunter’s eyes you will see well enough.”

Mason gave the creature a ‘stop acting like you know everything and have it all planned’ kind of glare. But then maybe he did. He automatically walked out ahead of Demi in case there was danger, but he didn’t expect any and doubted it would threaten her in any case.

They were apparently on a large hill overlooking the endless grasslands. Bonfires and centaur yurts stretched as far as he could see, even as he turned and looked around the hill. These were loosely arranged and separated—more like individual tribes rather than the dense precision of a military. But there still must have been tens of thousands. He also saw many horses, and not just centaur.

“My people are gathering from across the continent,” Night Eyes said. “I have shown visions of doom to every oracle and shaman. I have seen the sky fire and the joining of the planes. Before the end of the next year the stars will align, and the barrier between worlds will be at its thinnest in centuries.”

Mason turned to the powerful shaman with an even higher level of respect.

“You might know more than I do. So what exactly should I be expecting with these ‘thin’ planar barriers? Why would that mean planar creatures cross over together with any kind of…purpose?”

“Many will not. But the prime is the greatest prize in the cosmos, Hunter.”

“Why?”

“The gods watch it most closely.” Night Eyes shrugged like this was obvious. “Their rewards here are greatest and most numerous. Every ambitious creature who can cross will try. What they desire will vary. But most of it will not be good for us.”

Mason nodded as he absorbed. So it wasn’t just some demon army. It was literally a cluster fuck of interests—a giant, swirling melee of divine objectives and madness. Spring Break for monsters everywhere.

But he’d seen enough now to understand—the game was about key locations. Settlements. The Nexus’s. Probably the homes of every civilized group of sentient beings like orcs and goblins and centaurs. They’d have to be defended, and every loss would be like another point for the away team.

So he’d been mostly right, at least, in his thinking. And in a way this was kind of…comforting. A horde of many enemies would be easier to deal with than a unified army. They could potentially pick their enemies apart without a coordinated response.

“Your brain looks busy.” Demi gave his arm a squeeze. “But none of that sounded like great news to me, so why are you smiling?”

Was he? He hoped it wasn’t because of the guaranteed violence.

“I thought this ‘Yalor’ was bringing some elite army. But maybe we’re not fighting a general. We’re just…controlling chaos. A Roman legion against a horde of Gauls. Even if we’re badly outnumbered, I’d bet on the professional army any day.”

Demi nodded along, but frowned.

“Remember it’s a game, baby, not a war. It might not work how you think. I mean there might be more rules, or whatever.”

He squeezed her hand, aware that the shaman was watching and listening with those big, dark eyes, and that equally big, clever brain. God only knew what the creature thought of them, and humans in general.

Mason often wondered if roboGod had designed creatures that could pierce the veil of the ‘game’ on their own, and understand more than their world building permitted. It had at least comprehended humans might break it, though the one and only time Mason had seen it brought up, it basically warned against it.

“The Green Sea will be a planar graveyard,” Night Eyes said, his face hardening. “The tribes will come eagerly from every direction. It is religious for us. Ancient prophecy. The Wild Hunt at the end of the world.”

Mason grinned, watching his centaur ally.

“You almost sound like you’re looking forward to it.”

“No.” The shaman looked out at the gathered yurts. “It will be hard, even with the herds. We will train and make weapons and do all that can be done. But still, many of my people will starve. We will quarrel and die for foolish reasons before the enemy even comes.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I think our gods treat us like playthings. I question their wisdom. But their guidance will unite my people when it is needed most. And I must use every lever to save the children of my forebears.”

Mason watched the creature in fascination. What a thing this fucking robot had made. This insane version of reality, where some invented fantasy creature could maybe be wiser and more likeable than most of Mason’s own kind.

“Whatever the afterlife is, Night Eyes, I think your gods and forebears will judge you kindly.”

“The afterlife is an endless field of spring grass and endless herds,” the shaman said, giving Mason a bemused look, like maybe he didn’t quite believe it. “I hope human guests are welcome. Perhaps we’ll hunt together there.”

“No need.” Mason smiled. “Wait a few months, and we’ll hunt together here on the prime.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Night Eyes nodded to Demi then clomped his way down the hill, calling back as he descended.“Perhaps I am looking forward to it. I know you’ve only come to inspect us, Hunter, and won’t stay for a feast. Go with my thanks, and promise—the clans will fight. And we will win!”

Mason fought the lump in his throat as he watched the creature go. Until we meet again, Night Eyes, he thought, wondering how best to help the creatures when the time came.

And to think—he used to love to kill the bastards. Well. OK. He still sort of did.

He took Demi’s hand and looked for the power to warp back to the fey. Somehow he wasn’t surprised when he sensed a nearly endless supply of energy from the centaur shaman’s choice of ground, like maybe it was some ancestral, sunken holy mountain. He didn’t bother to fight one last grin, then vanished with his first step.

**

“Just wait until I tell the other girls you have a friend. And that it’s a Comanche horse-shaman-man. Why am I not surprised, by the way? I assume you bonded over death and mayhem somehow?”

Mason raised a brow as he carried Demi back north, racing somewhere into ‘fall’ and watching like a hawk for any sign of that God damn sneaky Stag.

“At least I have a friend that isn’t a mushroom.”

“Oh that’s low. Most of my friends got killed. And all the girls are my friends. And sort of Carl and Sylvie now, and even some of the women I met in the palace, and…”

He shut her up with a kiss, giving her body a grope in his arms as he ran.

“I’m glad you’re with me. This is a lot more fun”

“Mmhmm.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Just wait. And what’s next on the agenda, by the way? Are there cow people to inspect? Bug people, maybe?”

“Technically yes to both, I think. But it’s time to go north to Eve. If we can just…”

Stag snorted about three inches from Mason’s ear. He spasmed in surprise, turning to find the creature chewing something again like this had been very easy. He closed his eyes.

“Demi was distracting me. And I wasn’t playing. And it’s a stupid game.”

The Stag just chewed whatever he was still eating without even a ‘thought’ through their bond. Mason sighed and shifted Demi, then raced across the fey, ignoring the sights and sounds and briefly reflecting how impossible it had all been only a few months ago.

Winter had officially arrived. Eve’s tree was surrounded by a circle of snow, though little springs were spreading out now and blooming with life. He took a breath and met Demi’s eyes.

“Ready for…whatever the hell happens next?”

“Ready for anything,” she said, beautiful smile just about knocking out all his thoughts.

He grinned and gave her a squeeze, doing his very best not to imagine a porn scene unfolding the second he stepped inside. The idea of the ‘alpha’ nymph and his beautiful nature bride getting along, with all their magic mixing into whatever ridiculous cocktail that erupted from banging in Eve’s pool and the resulting…

“Focus, baby.” Demi snapped her fingers in front of his face. “We have magic to learn. Apocalypses to stop. Et cetera.”

He blinked and abandoned any hope of not being turned on, relying on his slightly growing patience and maybe on Demi to keep things…productive.

There was also a chance Eve was threatened by his ‘mate’, or annoyed, or just too busy to do what she’d offered before. But there was only one way to find out. He reached for the magic of Eve’s tree, and stepped back into the prime.