Charles ran through the jungle. Branches slapped his face, and briars cut into his legs. He ran still. The image of Ortega, his arms covered in jagged metal and his eyes dark chased him. His heart raced. His breathing came in short bursts.

It was a long time since he had been that afraid.

He didn't understand why Ortega didn't see things his way. Killing the prince was necessary. He had to do it if they wanted to take down Miss Malone. The barrier was simply too strong. That was why he had to shoot Ortega when the fool lost his mind.

"I had to do it, don't you see?"

He stumbled into a clearing, tripping and falling. More sharp grass cut his hands as he caught himself on both palms, and he grunted as he pushed himself back to his knees. He needed to stop. He needed time to think. He looked up, only to see a massive mountain ahead of him. At its top was a large stone statue, made with a circular shell and grasping hold of the mountain with massive tentacles.

"How am I going to get back?"

That was the other problem. He didn't know how he would return to Grim Aegis. It wasn't much, but his ship was there. If he wanted to keep going toward the Core, to reach those lost treasures in the New World, he would have to get back to his ship. The island he was currently on seemed empty, completely devoid of any town or port.

He couldn't even steal a new ship and sail out the island.

"Stuck, all because that idiot couldn't see the truth." Charles spat, falling back to sit with his arms on his knees.

His hands and legs burned from all the cuts across them. His face ached from the bruises Ortega had given him. Above him, a full moon shone, and he tilted his head back to take a deep breath. He had no options. He was at the end of his rope.

"I'd offer a prayer to the Scions, but we never got along."

Follow.

Charles blinked. He tilted his head left and right. He was sure he had heard someone speak, but he was alone in the clearing. He blinked and sucked in some of the blood that had been coming out of his nose. He was alone.

"Not that I'm unused to voices." He smirked, his mustache twitching.

There was a reason some people called him 'Mad Dog,' after all. Charles could be an entirely different person in the right circumstances. To him though, that other Charles was just part of himself. That Charles was the more dangerous of them. That Charles would have killed Ortega without flinching.

Follow.

"Now I know there's someone out there." Charles stood, reaching for his gun. "Come out now, or I'll fill you full of lead!"

Except, he didn't have any bullets left. Not that the voice would know that. He'd wasted most of them going up the blasted wall to chase after Ortega. Of course his current predicament was Ortega's fault. He should have shout the idiot in the head instead of the shoulder.

"Later," he whispered as his gun trailed across the trees.

FOLLOW!

Charles nearly dropped his gun. That hadn't been a whisper, but a full blow yell. However, he still couldn't pinpoint where the voice came from, and that didn't make sense. If someone was making a noise, it usually only took hearing it two times to figure out where it was coming from.

"Follow where?" Charles lowered his gun.

His eyes strayed toward the mountain, and he saw a set of stairs carved into the side. He narrowed his eyes. He hadn't seen that there before. Had it just appeared, or had he been too tired to notice it? He licked his lips.

"Fine," he said, starting toward the stairs. "I'll 'follow.' So long as you get me off this blasted island, I'll follow you anywhere."

An hour later, and ten thousand steps higher into the air, Bolton rested with his hands on his knees. His lungs burned, and he wanted to vomit. However, he had made it to the top of the stupid mountain. Now he stood in front of the massive shell creature.

Its maw was opened wide, and a cavern stood there, dark and waiting for him. Charles stared into that darkness and saw the blackness inside his own heart. Whatever he found in that cave, he knew it was already a part of him.

"Is this where you want me to follow?" he asked the voice. "Do you want me to go in there?"

Follow.

Charles stood, sucking a final breath of the outside air, and marched into the darkness. To his surprise, the air immediately chilled as he stepped inside the cave. It was like the stone around him sucked in all the heat it could. He wrapped his arms around his chest as he began a descent.

"Of course, I have to climb down now. It wasn't enough to have to climb up the blasted mountain. Now I have to climb back down!"

"Back down!"

His voice echoed through the darkness as he followed the dark path. Soon, he could see nothing at all. All he had was his belief that the smooth path down was the way forward, and that it would continue. It wound down deep into the mountain.

"I talk to myself, but I don't do it like that," Charles said it in a whisper that time and had the satisfaction of not hearing his voice repeated.

He continued down for an indeterminable amount of time. In the darkness, nothing made sense beyond putting one foot in front of the other. He just kept going, step by step, until he saw a light below. A green glow danced on the edges of his vision, and at first he wasn't sure it was real. He was certain when he reached the end of the tunnel tha

A green portal lay open in front of him, running inside a silver arch in the cavern. Bolton smiled and walked toward it. He didn't need to be told to follow anymore. He knew precisely where he was going. He stepped through and into darkness, where a man in a black coat waited for him.

"Welcome." The man's legs didn't touch the ground, but he floated in the dark, nonetheless. "I am the Seer, and I have been waiting for you."

Hrrm.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Alex leaned back in his chair on the Nighthawk, warm mug in hand as the engines thrummed through the hull. He took a sip of the coffee and pursed his lips. Coffee and tea, neither of which he particularly liked, were some of the things that translated onto the Erth. He wasn't surprised, just disappointed that no one had invented Coke yet.

Maybe Artur would have still been alive if he had settled down on some island and tried making colas instead of searching for a way home.

"They are signaling us," Mari spoke over the speakers, already locked away behind his seat on the bridge beneath the deck.

The room was an oval shape around him. There were five chairs in total: a central 'captain's' chair and four others attached around it. Right now, they were empty, as everyone was out gathering their final supplies. Once everyone was back on the ship, they all knew it was time to head out.

"What's the message?"

One week in Grim Aegis was how long it took for Harut to prepare his pact with Halogi. Now that he was ready to open the way, there was no reason to stay. Alex took another sip of the coffee.

"The gate will be open in ten minutes," Mari said.

"Who's back?"

"Jean is in his room, and Sayed is currently in the kitchen. Erin and Wen are still out."

They had ordered food and water for the ship. Their stores were nearly empty, and Alex didn't trust any island after Grim Aegis to be friendly. The Core wasn't kind to outlaws as a rule. Once they passed through the gate, they wouldn't find many allies.

"We don't have to be the first ones through," Alex said, setting down his cup on his chair's side arm. "It'll be better if we aren't. We can try to blend in with all the other ships going through."

Around him, several ships were already taking off from the docks to get in line for the portal. Some of them were more modern and similar to the Nighthawk, almost like flying submarines. Others were older ships, still mate of metal, but more like flying barges and cruisers. Others were ancient, wooden hulled ships with actual masts rising high above them.

All had light sails on their ships and at least four lodestones on either side to support them.

He didn't have to worry about the Nighthawk sticking out too much, though the golden cone at the rear of the ship, and the two long pods that the ship had instead of lodestones made it somewhat distinct. At least it wasn't painted bright red, though.

"Erin and Wen have returned."

"But the supplies haven't yet." Alex smiled, though he knew they wouldn't be far behind.

He reached for his coffee and took another sip. When he was finished making a face at the taste, he pushed a button on his console. The speakers crackled to life as he leaned closer to the button. He didn't know where the microphone for it was, but it was a force of habit.

"When the supplies get here, we're clear to leave," he said, and his voice was broadcast through the ship. "When everyone's ready, get to the bridge."

When he was done, he leaned back in his chair and waited. He didn't have to wait long for the first of them to come to the bridge, and as he expected, it was Sayed who made it first. The big man's boots practically stomped onto the bridge.

"We can finally continue on then, brother?" He smiled as he came in, even though he was still covered in healing cuts.

"Yeah, I think we've been stuck here long enough." Alex smiled back as Sayed walked around to the front right seat.

He sat down, facing away toward a green screen that would show him the ship's status and other things. Sayed never really used it. Having him be on the bridge was always more so that he could see where they were going. However, having Sayed up there at least made everyone feel better. It was rare to have Sayed in a place and not gain a few smiles.

"I see we are almost ready." Jean's footsteps were oddly silent for a man who walked on bones.

He wore his normal blue robes, and his hands hid in his sleeves. Since they had come back from the funeral, Alex hadn't been able to get a read on Jean. He was normally almost as happy as Sayed, smiling easily and playful. However, since they had beaten Miss Malone, he hadn't seen him change from a grim frown.

Alex would ask him, but every time he tried, Jean brushed him off.

"Just waiting on the supplies," Alex said as Jean took his seat to the right of Sayed. "You both good to go?"

"I think it is time," Jean said, his bony fingers flicking across the green screen and bringing up a map.

Clunk.

A side-panel on the ship opened as a cart stopped by the ship. Alex watched on a side screen as men loaded a barrel and several boxes into the Nighthawk. There were the supplies; now he just needed his other crew members to show.

Clunk.

"We're ready." Li Wen came through as the outside doors closed, Erin following behind her.

Li Wen was dressed in her bounty hunter style, a long brown coat with a wide-brimmed hat. Her revolvers were holstered at her waist, and she looked ready for a fight. Erin wore her normal green cloak with her hood down and was a lot less pink than she had been the week before. Her skin had healed for the most part from Drake's flames.

"The sooner we get in, the faster we see how bad a mess it will be," Erin whispered as she took the seat to the left of Alex, and Li Wen took last remaining one in the front.

"We'll make it," Alex said, leaning forward and grasping the orbs at the end of his chair's arms. "We made it this far."

He embraced the ship as the anchors holding them in the dock released and the Nighthawk took flight. He maneuvered the ship into position behind the nearest rising one and joined the lined to pass through the gate.

It was time to go into the Core.

Cough.

Sarruma, Chief of the Ground, shook and rose. His body ached, which should have been impossible. His muscles burned. He, the mighty Sarruma fell back onto the ten beds that held his massive form and shook the very ground around him.

Thud.

"Sir, you must rest!" A hand, tiny next to his massive form, rested on his chest. "We barely recovered you from the fight!"

"No!" Sarruma raised one hand, bringing his fist clashing down on something he couldn't see nearby.

Crack. Clatter.

It broke, but his hand barely felt it. Already, his strength was returning to him. He would get up again and find that blasted white-haired freak and turn him inside out with his bare hands. If he hadn't cheated, Sarruma would have won.

"I will go after him!" Sarruma pushed himself up, one hand on the floor.

"Grab him!" Several people around him immediately surged into motion. "Use the restraints!"

Clack. Clatter.

Chains wrapped around his wrists, and the people around him grunted as they pulled him back down. Oddly, Sarruma found that his strength sapped away as the chains touched them. His attention perked. They were using aether-eating metal on him.

"You dare!" he growled. "I am no brigand to arrest! I am the Chief of the Ground!"

However, as mighty as he was, he was no match for the power of the metal. He fell back to the beds and his muscles released their tension. His eyes focused on the ceiling above, and he recognized the metal roof above him.

"I'm on my ship," he said.

"Yes, sir." Sarruma turned his head to see a white-smocked figure with a white mask covering his face and a little white hat.

"You are in the medical bay, and we are treating your injuries. You must remain calm so that you do not reopen any of the stitches."

"Stitches?" Bile boiled up from his stomach. "I am Sarruma! I do not need stitches!"

However, he could not break his restraints. He growled, but he could not lift his chains any longer. He settled on a steady glare at the ceiling.

"On whose authority am I bound?"

"Your second, sir."

"That lout?"

"Yes, sir." The doctor nodded. "He told us to send his condolences, but that you would be unfit to give orders until you were healed."

"Grah!"

He tried, but failed, to raise his hand. He knew he shouldn't blame the doctor caring for him, but without his second nearby his anger was undirected. The idiot was smart enough not to be in the room while Sarruma was down.

"It's that damn Apostle's fault," Sarruma said, no longer acknowledging the surrounding staff. "Lucien 'the Butcher.' Hah. Lucien 'the Coward' is a better name. I had him, and he brought out that blasted creature."

Sarruma paused, realizing the implications of his current state.

"What happened to the city?"

"Destroyed," the doctor said. "We're still working on recovering those who survived. He wiped out most of the troops in the area."

"Did anyone important survive?"

Cough.

That earned a pause, but Sarruma waited. The truth of the world was already borne on his shoulders. Some people were more important than others. While they had a duty to the Empyrean, the first duty was to the nobility.

If they survived Lucien, they might even be fit to rule.

"No, sir," the doctor said. "Every person of noble blood was eradicated. A few of the citizens remained. They survived because they were further away from the epicenter."

"Weaklings," Sarruma frowned. "Not worthy of the Scions' grace, in the end."

"Sir," the doctor said.

"Well, treat me!" Sarruma yelled. "When I can stand again, we will hunt him down. Wherever he may hide, we will find him!"

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