"The Trial of Soul and Bone?" I say.

"How?" Dovik asks at the same time.

Illigar reaches into his robes, removing a small, metallic cylinder. Infused rings of copper wire wrap the object and runes are painted on its surface with red ink. It is a crude device, but when he grabs the ends and twists, snapping the cylinder, a familiar blue bubble expands around us. It does not move past the inner walls of the carriage. Instead, the energy stops at the wood, coating it like a layer of paint and sticking. The cylinder in Illigar's fingers sparks, a belch of purple smoke emanating from the object before a small green flame sizzles to life. Illigar drops the burning construction to the floor of the carriage, swearing as he stamps it out with his boot.

"We only have about twenty minutes before the isolation will fail. I don't imagine that we really need to worry about being overhead, but I don't need to take the risk," he says.

"What did you mean by saying this attack was related to the upcoming trial?" Dovik asks, rephrasing his earlier question.

"Before that," I interrupt, bending forward to pick up the destroyed magical construction on the floor. Illigar makes no move to stop me. I stow it away before turning back to the conversation. "Can you explain to me what exactly a Remade is? Everyone in that room seemed to know except for me."

"That doesn't surprise me," Illigar says. "Like I said, our time is limited, but I can give you an abbreviated understanding. Monsters capable of exceeding the third rank and entering the fourth are shrinkingly rare in this world. Worse, those capable of doing so often begin to invert the relationship that magicians have with monsters, becoming stronger than an average magician of a similar rank. They are entities so dangerous, that myths and stories often arise out of their appearances, the Remade are such a creature. I will not dive into the theological origins of their being as that is often debated and those alive today at the time of their cataclysm have offered no concrete accounts as far as I am aware, but we can be sure that they are not natural monsters in the sense that we know. These creatures were crafted, some claim that they were made from other monsters and some that they were made from people, thus the name. What is agreed upon, is that they serve a single master, a being known as the Mother of Monsters. She is real, and she sits upon the Throne of Change."

Beside me, Dovik falls back in his seat, his eyes wide. I've known since the trial where we first met that the people of Grim have a different understanding of religion from the one that I was brought up to believe. He had shown me before such differences, explaining the Crusade of Man in a far different light than the one I know. There is a look similar to that time on his face now, like he is looking back at a history of gods and heroes. He looks terrified.

"A throne?" I ask. "One of the hundred divine thrones?"

Illigar nods at me while Dovik continues to hold his quiet. "That is correct. More than just sitting the throne, the Mother of Monsters is considered to be a peek existence, a goddess, and an evil one at that."

"She is supposed to be sealed," Dovik says. Then, he looks askance at me. "You are my friend, Charlene, but this is beginning to touch on things I don't think it would be right for us to share. The guild has kept our histories, and you aren't a part of the guild. I know you have no intention of joining either. Illigar, I have to insist that we stop this conversation."

"Young Master, I respect your request," Illigar says before I can voice my indignance. It isn't that I don't understand where Dovik is coming from. He shouldn't go around spilling secrets about his family to me just because I am curious. "Yet, I believe you will come to understand, as I do, that your friend's ties to the guild are stronger than you might imagine. These matters concern the upcoming trial, and she will be entering it. Isn't that correct?"

I take a moment to stare at the man, wasting precious seconds of secluding magic to chew on my answer. "You said that these monsters had something to do with the trial?"

"I did," he answers.

"So, they will be there?"

"I am almost certain that they will."

When I look down at my hands, searching for an answer, I only find my thumbnail digging into the beds of my fingers again, scratching. I can't feel it, not in the way I knew before. Allowing the Williain Guild to assess me for fitness to enter the trial was always a part of my agreement with Arabella. Since the last trial put on by the Willian Guild, actually following through has become murky. After my conversation with Corinth, all of the things that I need to do in the immediate future crowd out something as far away as two years from now.

My nail continues to scratch, skipping over the ridges on my fingerprints as if they were made from something more solid than flesh. Those monsters tried to kill me. They left me imprisoned in a waking hell for nearly a month. They almost killed Jess and left her in a coma, her soul so damaged that she can't wake. They destroyed Danfalla and killed more people than I can imagine. They need to pay for that.

"If they will be there, then so will I," I answer.

Dovik looks at me like he wants to say something, but instead, he opts to keep his mouth shut. Illigar nods, like my answer is exactly what he expected. Hells, he probably did.

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"Then, we are in agreement on this front. If you wish to delve more into the histories about the Remade and the Mother, I'm certain the young master will be more than happy to share the stories with you at a more convenient time. For now, all you need to understand is that the Mother of Monsters hates humanity more than anything, more than Exeter could ever. While the goddess may be sealed, that does not mean she cannot exert influence. She wants nothing less than the eradication of our entire race. Thus, destroying her minions is of the utmost importance."

"You believe that they will enter the Trial," Dovik says. "Why?"

"Because of what they stole," Illigar answers. "I have been burdened with the knowledge of the upcoming trial. The guildmaster seeks to have me lead the team that the guild will field. My understanding of this matter gives me insight. Master Willian, do you know what will constitute the upcoming trial?"

"No, not really," Dovik answers. "I have some guesses. I know that it will be extremely dangerous. I know that other powerful factions from around the world will participate."

When Illigar turns his gaze my way, I merely shake my head in reply to his unasked question. "There is so much context that needs presenting to understand fully," Illigar mutters, his eyes searching for the proper words. "This, too, I do not have the time to go into. A simplistic explanation. This world is larger than I believe either of you can truly comprehend; you can't until you see it for yourself. Despite that, almost all of the land has been claimed and falls into one of two categories: the civilized world and the territories of the beast kings. Less than half of the continents of the world are inhabitable by people. The raw power of the unrestrained manasphere is too great to support civilization. The monsters that are spawned from the aether can reach staggering levels of strength, and the chaos they sow in their wake would disrupt anything approaching the order required to create towns, cities, and nations. It is more the rule than the exception that the lands of this world fall under the sway of incredibly powerful monsters and magical beasts. There are entire island continents that span millions of square miles, chopped into pieces of territories by these warring entities, entirely too dangerous to home people.

"Without the Pillars of Civilization, most of the world would be like this. Without the protection of the gods, civilization could not prosper. You have each heard of the divine thrones; upon these seats sit the gods, yet not all seats are occupied, and not all who sit upon them have reached the realm of godhood. The delineations are not important for this conversation. What is important to know is that it is the Pillars of Civilization that connect the divine thrones to the world. These artifacts exist outside of the material world. The pillars act as conduits to the divine, anchoring their power and concepts to a region of the planet. It is the thrones' power that suppresses the manasphere inside the territories in which they are grounded. Without this, there would always exist a chance for an unfathomably powerful monster to appear from the aether to destroy entire nations.

"Of course, the pillars do more than just tie the thrones to the land; they are the siphons with which the souls of the people are harvested. Within the domain of the pillars, the souls of the people are fractionally drained, the difference so slight that it is almost unnoticeable. That power is channeled through the pillars, back to the throne that is anchored, empowering whatever being sits upon it. As has become the custom over the last millennia and a half, those gods then redistribute a portion of that power to the rulers of the nations in which they hold sway. That power is further split, passing down the line of succession and lineage, becoming the source of noble endowment. When the nobility claim that their power is divine writ, it is not a lie."

"That can't be real," I say, searching the man's face for any sign of deception. Of course, there isn't any, at least none that I can discern. His explanation seems to clash with what Corinth told me. When my brother returns, we are going to have to have another conversation.

Illigar holds up his hand. "Decide whether to believe me later. For now, just listen. To my understanding, the name of One Hundred Divine Thrones is accurate. Some have been lost over the eons, but none have been destroyed. The gods that sit upon these artifacts all share one thing in common: a wish to expand their power. The most expedient way to do such a thing would be to conquer more lands. Gaining more territory is a driving factor for most. The way that this pertains to the upcoming Trial of Soul and Bone is simple: the trial will be a perfect opportunity for any with the ability and drive to claim new territory to do so."

His eyes scan the air as he rearranges his thoughts. On the interior walls of the carriage, the blue energy blinks, never quite extinguishing, but growing more dim by the minute. "In the Calis Sea, nearly on the opposite side of the world from here, there lies an island continent. For the last nine hundred years, this continent, once known as the Brutalis Empire, has existed inside an isolating barrier of magical energy powerful enough that none have been able to pass inside. The barrier is a result of a spell cast by the empire's last empress as her lands fell into ruin. The history of the empire's fall is quite interesting. Closer to the trial, I can tell you more about it. What you need to know now, though, is that the pillar in the heart of the empire cracked, terrible creatures swarmed over the land, and ruin came. The shield created by the last empress held the monsters inside at bay, not allowing them to exit and spread out into the world. It has only been in the last fifty years or so that the barrier has weakened enough for any kind of readings of the continent's interior to be taken. The guild has long been aware of the slow degradation of the barrier, as have many other forces the world over. In just over two years' time, the barrier will have weakened enough to allow passage inside.

"The true powers of the world will be unable to enter. The barrier that remains is still powerful enough to rebuff them. It is believed by most experts that those beneath the fourth rank will be capable of entering into the harsh and hostile world that the continent has become over the last millennia. That is what the trial is. Those with the power to do so, hundreds of organization, guilds, nations, and religions the world over, will field their most capable candidates to venture into the heart of the fallen Brutalis Empire with a single objective."

"To claim the territory," Dovik finishes. My friend looks lost in thought, but I can already predict what Illigar will say next.

"The Willian Guild plans to take this land for our own. We have a Pillar of Civilization and intend to use it. Our goal is to give humanity a real homeland, one where we can rule for ourselves outside the machinations of others, outside of the token seats at the table some kingdoms and empires condescend to grant their chosen few. I believe also, that this is where the monsters who attacked Danfalla will reappear. They have stolen the means to claim the land as their own if they can manage it, and they have already displayed extreme power. If they are allowed to install the pillar they have stolen and connect the land to the Throne of Change, the Mother of Monsters will attain a power in this world that cannot be allowed. She is the enemy of us all. We cannot fail."

The magic covering the walls finally blinks out, sound coming into the carriage from the outside once more as we near our destination. The clip-clop of hooves beating against the ground marks a steady rhythm as Illigar leans back in his seat once more. I have never seen a more serious expression on the man's face than I do now. "We cannot fail," he says again. Not another word is spoken on the ride back to the manor.

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