A sharp crimson light burst from the tip of my staff, a line of frothing, ghostly flames. It struck the center of the portcullis and spread, licking along the bars, until the entire frame was covered. Wherever the fire touched, enchantments withered and died, the entire defensive formation beginning to crumble.

"Amazing," I whispered, staring in awe. Just what kind of magic had Incinderus invented? That was an eight-level spell, gone just like that. Sure, it was too slow to use in real combat, and there was no one actively opposing, but it was still incredible.

"No, stop them!" a hoarse cry sounded behind me, and Fable vanished from my side.

I winced, gripping my staff a little tighter, as a few screams rang out, silenced with the hideous crunch of bone and tearing flesh.

As the trail of fire cut off from the tip of my staff, Fable appeared behind me, pushing his head under my legs and sweeping me off my feet. I let out a squeak as I fell over, but he bucked his head, flipping me onto his back. I threw my arms around his neck just in time for him to lunge forward, smashing through the weakened portcullis and leaving the last scrambling paladins behind.

The stairs continued to spiral downward, below where the foot of the mountain must have been. Several more checkpoints guarded the path, each more formidable than the last, but Fable didn’t slow for any of them. He shattered their lines with a devastating charge, deposited me before the gate or portcullis holding the way, and then waded back into our enemies, slaughtering anyone who dared try to interrupt my magic. Spells shattered on his pelt, and blades and axes snapped like twigs on his fangs and claws. Orendaclysm worked every time, taking less than twenty seconds to break even the strongest eighth-level wards.

The further down we went, the more the air began to heat. My wards cut the temperature back, but soon, my skin shone with sweat, my dress hugging my slender form. I panted softly even when I was just riding Fable, struggling to breath in the sweltering air. Heat waves rose from the stone, steam hissing every time Fable’s pads touched the ground. There were no checkpoints anymore, just plunging staircases, falling endlessly into the heart of the earth.

But at last, the stairwell opened into a long, flat corridor, so hot the air quivered. Midway through, the worked stone faded into glossy black obsidian, swirling in rough, edged patterns that glowed faintly. I whimpered softly as we passed through, ducking my head despite the size of the tunnel. Chutes like this reminded me of the lava chambers beneath Blacksand, and that was too close a thought to the Lava Dragons.

The passage turned and twisted. An orange glow shone from around a bend, and as we rounded it, the tunnel abruptly ended, opening up into a massive, lopsided chamber. The walls were pocket-marked with tunnels and offshoots, many of which leaked streams of molten magma that dribbled in viscous waterfalls that looked like fiery pillars supporting the roof. The magma pooled on the ground in thick puddles that drained into the vents sunk into the floor.

As I looked around the room, I gasped, my tail going stiff. In the center, floating between the columns of magma, was a shard of omniscience. Mana poured from its sparkling facets, rising into the ceiling in thick conduits of power. The source of the enchantments and wards woven throughout the keep.

But it wasn’t that which stole my breath.

A single magic circle, with threads and runes thicker than Fable’s torso, encircling the shard in a slowly rotating ring. It was massive, clearing over half the room, and channeling so much mana that it made the lava seem dark in comparison. Despite the oppressive heat, I shuddered. It was powerful, far beyond any spell I’d seen, bearing more mana than even the arbiter’s strongest techniques. It burned more mana than I possessed every heartbeat, and even then, it should have drained the shard dry in a few hours at most. But a seemingly endless supply of mana flowed through the shard. Was it drawing it through the ley lines themselves? If that were the case, no wonder it had lasted for months. It wasn’t just one shard, but every shard. It was practically powered by the realm itself!

Two figures stood before the shard. The World Barrier’s might dwarfed their souls, but my blood ran cold as my gaze rested on them. A man and a woman. Both ninth level.

The two watched silently as Fable approached, winding carefully through streams of falling fire. My heart beat quickly in my chest, my every instinct urging me to flee in the other direction. Two ninth levels. Two! I wasn’t even sure we could handle one!

The woman was short and bowed with age, wearing a soft green dress and clutching an ivory wand tipped with a pale yellow gemstone. Her skin drooped with wrinkles, but her eyes glowed gold with power, and her soul was entwined with the World Barrier, drawing on half of her mana at any given time. But what was left was still more than I possessed at full strength, and after everything we’d faced to get here, I was far from my full strength.

The man was similarly old, but unstooped by time or weakness. His hair was white and long, tied low in a loose ponytail. He wore simple, unadorned plate armor and rested his hand on the hilt of a naked broadsword pointed down on the obsidian ground. The blade emitted a pressure that made the air tremble, so full of sun mana that I broke out into shivers just looking at it.

Fable stopped some distance away. My hands shook as I unclenched them from his fur, carefully sliding off his back. My knees buckled as I dropped, more from fear than the fall, but he caught me with his shoulder, steadying me on my feet.

"You’re braver than I thought, coming here all alone," the woman said in a gentle, sing-song voice.

"Or foolish," the man grunted. He sounded rough and weary.

"I’m not alone," I said, resting my hand on Fable’s shoulder. The sound of my own voice startled me. I took a breath, trying to steady my nerves. "And I don’t want to fight. Please, you must have seen the horrors the gods have inflicted on this world. The war, the death...the Heartcrest. You don’t have to fight for them. You can fight for Enusia."

"Oh?" The woman raised her eyebrow. "That’s a strange way of characterizing your actions. The church is no stranger to atrocity, but your actions have hardly been righteous. How many have died by your hands? How many have suffered because of your choices? No," She shook her head, letting out a long sigh. "I’m afraid this war isn’t so simple as right and wrong, the good side and the bad. When we all have blood on our hands, the only thing that matters is who will be standing when the last drops are shed."

"You waste words on her. She’s no more capable of understanding that than a dog."

"No one is irredeemable," she replied evenly. "Everyone always has a choice."

"Hmph. Maybe by nature, but I can’t count how many I’ve killed that refused to take it. In the end, what does it matter if they could have chosen if they didn’t?" His hand fell to his sword, his eyes narrowing at me. "And I’ve a feeling your mind is already made up. No point keeping her alive, is there?"

My tail curled, and Fable took a step forward, growling low in his throat.

The man’s lip curled back, and his blade shone, but the woman raised her hand. "Patience, Zenith. We’ve not even introduced ourselves."

"Fine. I’m Zenith, and I’m going to kill you."

The woman shot him an exasperated look. "Really. I’m Lusha. And if I’m not mistaken, you must be Xiviyah, the Oracle of Eternity. Lysander used to talk about you all the time, and now that we’re face-to-face, I can see why. I’ll admit I’m fascinated by your study of arrays. I’ve read every article the inquisitors published on it. I wish we had met under better circumstances. I would have loved to see what more you’ve learned." She paused, then shook her head. "I suppose I’ll still get that chance, though battle is hardly the best way to understand each other."

"Are you finished?"

She sighed again. "Yes, I’m afraid there’s little more to say. Unless, child, you’d be willing to turn yourself over peacefully? I’m certain we can find a way to separate you from that little staff. I promise I’ll protect you from the inquisitors. You could be my little--"

"What, pet?" Zenith snorted as she nodded. "She’s fought a hundred battles to be here. Filthblood and traitor though she is, we can at least give her the dignity of death."

Death or surrender? Neither of those options was acceptable to me or anyone sheltering within Haven. No matter how grim things looked, I wasn’t going to stray from my path.

"You’re not giving up? You’re not even going to try to run?" Lusha asked curiously.

I shook my head, gripping my staff in both hands. "You’re resolute to fight for your gods. I’ve my own path to follow, and I’m not going to turn from it."

I’d come too far to give up now. I would follow it to the end. Even if it meant fighting two ninth-level beings.

I let out a long breath, letting my mana fill me, meeting their gaze. This time, I didn’t tremble. "My fate is what it is, and I’ll not run from it, come what may. But that doesn’t mean I won’t fight for it. Let us see whose path fate has chosen, and who stands when the last drops have fallen."