Terlin flew as vapor, his form a streak of blazing haze tearing through the dark skies above the Faewood. The Watchers followed, a dozen of them, elven kin bound to his word and his word alone—they spun after him, ghostly ribbons in the rain-soaked dark, their passage barely a ripple in the chill air. The world blurred beneath him, patchworks of meadow and trees and the restless tide of the forest's denizens flashing past in dizzying succession. Most elves sheltered in the Bastion, yes, but out here, dozens of elven enclaves clung to the true wilderness—and it was his duty alone to shield them from the outside world, whatever the cost.

Even as the air carried him onward, Terlin's mind spun, tangled in a lattice of plans for the fight to come. Jason: Hoplite Thirty-Seven. The exile's ace. If Jason fell here, today, the Spiral Queen's prophecy would unwind, the threads of this macabre tapestry severed before it could be woven. But it wasn't a true prophecy, not really. The Spiral Queen herself had once admitted as much to him, lifetimes ago—a best guess, nothing more, drawn from all she had seen. She'd told him then that Jason would be the one to burn the tree—the Ilum tree—and in that fire, Terlin's death would take root. So now, far from the tree and its roots, Terlin's odds of sidestepping fate seemed a great deal higher.

He couldn't lose. If he did, it would be a glaring beacon, a declaration to all elvenkind, a signal that he was weak, and then the last, desperate threads holding the Faewood's power in his grip would unravel in an instant. Terlin kept his face a mask, steady and cold, but inside, the taste of dread was sharp and metallic on his tongue—a bitter tang he allowed nowhere but the walls of his own mind. He would not let it show, not for anything.

Anxiety built in his chest as he sighted the copse, a strange outward bubble of trees from the body of the Faewood. That was where the Trinkett's were hiding themselves, concealed by way of illusion magic no doubt. He floated downward, bringing his team of Watchers spiralling down as one, reforming at the edge of a moss-ringed glade. The twelve elves materialized from mist into tangible form, their breath already fogging in the chill, their stolen Outworlder arms—blocky, ugly, but brutally effective—gleaming in rain.

They owed allegiance to Terlin, and Terlin alone, which was exactly why he trusted them with these implements of destruction. Terlin maintained his jury-rigged cloaking for their approach, as the Trinkett's no doubt had lookouts. It was easy with this body, the Foundation he could draw on felt near-infinite, an oceans worth of magical might at his fingertips- but he did not try to maintain thirteen different cloaking spells, that would be absurd, even for him. No, rather he formed an air shield before them, cast an illusion over it, and formed it to surround them all, effectively making them invisible at a fraction of the Foundational cost.

"The Trinkett's will be made to leave. Only kill them if they try to defy us, understood?" Terlin asked, tone low and dangerous.

"Yes, my king." The lead watcher bowed, "Your will be done, we still will shoot Hoplite dead, yes?"

"On sight." Terlin nodded, hit his body, only shoot the head if you know you will hit. Take him out quickly, if that doesn't work, then I will deal with him, you will stay back and support me in that case."

Many of the Trinkett's were still descendants of his love, Beia Reshi. the idea of slaughtering them outright did not sit well with him... They were however, also descendants of that bastard Meja Trinkett, the elf who had failed to protect her, the elf that had let Beia die. He hated them, but he didn't want them dead, not all of them. He couldn't bear to see them wandering the Faewood any longer, seeing Meja's hair and eyes attached to Beia's face was too much, he would do so no longer, if they were gone, out of the woods, he didn't have to think about them anymore, nor care about what happened to them after exile. Their fate was in their own hands now, that was more than fair.

They moved in silence, fanning out into a crescent formation as they approached the perimeter of the copse. The forest grew still. Even the breeze seemed to pause, as if the old trees themselves wished to witness what came next. Terlin nodded, giving the go-ahead. The Watchers advanced, silent, into the shadows of the Trinkett's refuge. Was Meja here, he wondered? Terlin's fists clenched… perhaps he could allow himself to murder one particular Trinkett. He dispelled the barrier surrounding the copse easily, revealing the truth of what lay within it. To his surprise, the first thing he saw was a large, muscular back, with a spine of metal and covered in a spiderweb of scars. Jason was on his knees, staring at his dissasembled armor with tears in his golden eyes- Terlin couldn't believe his luck, the beast was out of its shell and vulnerable!

Lancela stood before Jason, her hands on his shoulders as the man shook like a leaf. Terlin could hear a soft weeping coming from the Outworlder, and felt repulsed by the show of weakness.

"The barrier has been dispelled!" A voice cried out from the other end of the copse.

Trinkett Watcher's readied themselves, a few of their mages reaching out with tendrils of Foundation to find the source of the dispelling. Terlin wouldn't give them the chance to reveal his position.

"Open fire!" Terlin shouted, "Kill him!"

Jason shot to his feet at hearing that, immediately grabbing Lance as a wall of gunfire exploded toward him. Orange magma-like blood steamed as his back was perforated, the shots turning the man's back into a constellation of bullet holes. Terlin let out a sigh of relief at seeing it, no one could possibly survive wounds like that- his fate had been averted, and the Faewood saved. He barely registered the rest of the copse: elves in hiding, mothers clutching their children, Trinkett watchers scattering to hide behind their trees for cover. He gave a satisfied grin; not even Jason could shrug off bullets—especially not without his armor. History would remember Terlin Fire-Eyes as the one who broke the Outworlder menace with tactics, not with some crude display of brute force.

"Stop, he's dead." Terlin ordered, the flashing muzzles of the rifles ceasing. Acrid tendrils of gunsmoke curled between the trees, stinging Terlin's eyes as fat raindrops punched through the haze, drumming against leaves with increasing urgency. The rain transformed, as if the sky itself had been slashed open—what had been a gentle mist moments ago now hammered down in silver sheets of water, the smoke and rain obfuscating his vision.He covered his eyes with an Air Shield, keeping the smoke and rain from touching his vision as he approached the upright body of Jason.

He needed to be seen now, so the weight of his commands could be felt by the Trinkett's, he dropped the cloaked air shield and approached confidently, until he realized that Jason was far from dead. The holes in his back that had revealed black bone were now sealing over, the bullets being forcefully pushed out of his flesh as Jason snarled, his head turning to face him.

Terlin's limbs turned to stone as fear gripped him. His mouth dried as Jason blurred away, nearly too fast for his eyes to track, depositing Lance behind what appeared to be Begee. Before Terlin could blink, Jason had already blurred back, seeming to materialize back at his abandoned gear, fingers closing around a massive shotgun's grip and pulling it up from the ground. The noise of gunfire exploded beside him as his Watchers fired on the Outworlder, the man not even reacting as the bullets struck him in the head and body, seeming to plink right off his cranium as if it were made from solid steel.

Terlin locked eyes with him, seeing a swirl of negative emotion plaguing him, disgust, grief, anger, it all blended together to form a unique flavor of sheer, unadulterated wrath, directed straight at Terlin. Snapping back to reality, Terlin activated his Dok-ah, glaring straight at Jason with a sneer that was half-terror, half hatred. Blue flames erupted around the man, a conflagration hot enough to melt steel, yet the Outworlder advanced through it like a demon rising from hell itself. His skin charred black, cracked open to reveal molten orange beneath, then knitted together again with each thundering step forward—destruction and rebirth in the space between heartbeats.

He heard the shotgun roar over the sound of return fire from his elves, like a dragon establishing its might over geckos. Terlin's chest detonated—ribs splintering, lungs collapsing—as the blast catapulted him backward. The world became a nauseating blur of green and brown, trees whirling like the spokes of some monstrous wheel. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before in his life, something so horrible that it nearly made his mind go blank from the agony of it. His body jerked to a stop, hovering just above the mud-slick ground. The metallic taste of his own blood filled his mouth as he frantically maintained the Fly spell that had saved him from a bone-shattering impact. That's when he saw it—felt it in his marrow—tendrils of raw Foundation erupting from Jason's body. The energy pulsed and writhed around the Outworlder like venomous serpents, their luminescence scorching Terlin's senses. The impossible truth hammered through his consciousness: Jason's magical power rivaled his own! Terlin's scream died in his throat, strangled by pure, primal terror.

How was this possible!? He was an Outworlder, he should have no means of accessing Foundation, so how!? Terlin's thoughts stuttered, his chest a pit of clenching ice and boiling blood. Jason was nothing but a brute—only able to rely on his superior technology and strength to win his battles, until now. The Outworlder's reserves were monstrous, a maelstrom of energy that matched Terlin's own, even with this Pillar-Born body. The air itself was warping around Jason, the sudden surges of power making the rain turn to steam, droplets hissing on his skin as Terlin's Dok-ah faltered and the blue flame ceased. Blackened flesh cracked and fell off Jason as he regenerated new flesh rapidly, like bark peeling off a tree as he aimed his shotgun at Terlin's Watchers.

Two Watchers to his right simply ceased to exist above the waist—one heartbeat whole, the next obliterated into a hurricane of shredded meat and pulverized bone. The shotgun's roar punched through Terlin's skull leaving his ears bleeding and mind reeling as crimson mist painted the ancient trees. Where proud warriors had stood, only twitching lower halves remained, toppling into the mud like marionettes with severed strings. A mulch of blood, gore, and bone covered the forest floor, behind where the Watcher's had once stood.

"You made me wear their bones!?" Jason shouted, spittle flying from his mouth, "I'll kill you!"

Before Terlin could even process what he'd just said, Jason's shotgun erupted again with apocalyptic fury, turning two more Watchers into a scarlet mist of shattered bone and viscera that spattered across the ancient trees through the downpour. A third caught just the edge of the blast that still sheared his arm off at the shoulder, the limb pinwheeling through the air trailing ribbons of blood like a grotesque festival streamer. The severed hand's fingers still twitched, grasping at nothing as the owner's scream rose to a pitch no elf throat should produce. Terlin lit Jason on fire again, channeling Foundation to steal the air from his mouth and lead it into the flames surrounding him.

If Terlin couldn't burn him to death, then he would suffocate him instead! Jason howled, the sound more beast than man, and fired again—point-blank, straight at Terlin. The air rippled, and Terlin snapped his hands up, shaping a shield of raw Foundation so dense it was nearly visible as a curve of blue-white force. The shotgun's blast struck it with a shriek like metal tearing, the slugs vaporizing against the barrier in a pulse of heat that singed his eyebrows. The recoil shoved Terlin backward, feet skidding through the mud, but he held the shield. He maintained his glare, actively burning Jason as he continued trying to pull the air from his lungs.

The Outworlder emptied the weapon, each shot a hammerblow that sent Terlin sliding back further, the ricochets tearing through his remaining elves like a scythe through wheat—limbs severed, skulls exploding into pink mist, torsos split open to spill steaming entrails across the forest floor as their dying screams harmonized into a single, guttural death-chorus. Terlin felt the damp ozone fizz of spent Foundation as the last of his Watchers fell. The world had gone knife-sharp and tunnel-narrow, rain sizzling on raw nerves. Jason advanced, shotgun dragging a boiling wake through the air, the orange glow inside his wounds casting him as something neither man nor beast. Every instinct shrieked at Terlin to run, mist-travel out, but he forced himself to hold ground, to keep the appearance of control. Couldn't let Jason see him flinch, not after what had just happened to his best.

He could feel his Air Draw spell working now, pulling the oxygen from the Outworlders lungs and leaving him choking for air- he would collapse soon, then he'd sustain his burning until nothing could grow back. If this regeneration worked like Tuji's, it would take energy from his own body to rebuild itself, it was just a matter of burning through whatever matter grew back, until he was nothing more than a skeleton! However, Jason merely roared, tendrils of his own Foundation slicing forth and Countering Air Draw completely.

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He cursed, no matter, Jason still run out of air eventually, Terlin would just keep his distance-Jason blurred forward again, too fast for ordinary sight, but Terlin's enhanced perception caught every movement in perfect, excruciating detail. Jason reared back his fist—striking Terlin's barrier with a force that numbed the Pillar-Born's hands. The pain of impact translated straight down his arms and spine. For an instant, Terlin thought the barrier would hold—he'd stacked the Foundation as densely as possible. He was proven wrong when the Outworlder's fist bit into the shield with a shriek of energy, punching through the outer layers as if they were nothing more than wet paper.

The blow spat blue light, blinding and searing, and the next thing Terlin knew his own shield had imploded in on itself, shattering like glass, that massive fist quickly approaching his face. He immediately cast Mist Form, Jason's attack passing through him harmlessly- but as Mist, he could not maintain his Dok-ah, the fire quickly extinguished from the downpour, and Terlin could feel the Outworlder attempting to counter his Mist Form, to make him solid once more. The technique was laughable, telegraphed from a mile away! Terlin battered the clumsy attempt off with ease as Jason pushed, attacking with even more counters, his skin freshly regenerated and turning red, steaming in the cold rain.

"I'll kill you!" Jason screamed, "I'll kill you for what you did!"

How had he not been reduced to a skinny husk yet? Of course: it was Foundation. The freak was using raw Foundation to fuel the regeneration, to patch his wounds and drive his body past all mortal limits. Terlin could see the current—like a river of molten power—rushing into Jason's form, feeding every cell, rebuilding flesh at impossible speed. He seized the thread instantly. Terlin's will crashed down on the channel like an axe, slicing through the Outworlder's connection to Foundation, wrenching it closed with the force of a collapsing snare. The flow ceased. For a half-second, Jason's body seemed to freeze, steam curling up from his blackened skin, the orange glow guttering beneath as if starved of air.

Triumphant, Terlin snapped his own body back from mist to solid, coalescing in a single blink. The moment his feet touched earth, he flared his Dok-ah, blue fire roaring to life around the Outworlder's crippled shell. The heat was exquisite—pure, clean, unyielding—even the rain barely dampened its fury. He forced the flames tighter, more focused, until Jason's exposed flesh began to slough off in greasy ribbons. The screams that followed were not human—they were the howls of something feral, the agony rising in pulse after pulse as the fire gnawed deeper.

Terlin allowed himself the smallest smile. He had solved it—no more tricks from Jason just raw, honest pain. The prophecy would die here, and Jason with it.

But the Outworlder was not finished.

Through the veil of fire, Jason surged upright, his entire form a ruin of peeling flesh and charred muscle. The eyes—once gold—were now pure void, black as the bottom of the ocean, and they locked onto Terlin with a hunger that was not sane. Terror gripped him for an instant before he shoved it down, merely the last stand of a dead man— Jason leapt, impossibly fast even without Foundation to fuel him, crossing the muddy clearing before Terlin could so much as form a thought. Terlin raised both hands, weaving another shield—

—but Jason hit him before the spell could solidify

The impact was monstrous, driving Terlin backward even as he tried to draw breath, but Jason did not let go, gripping Terlin's shoulders with bone shattering strength. Rock-like fingernails carved themselves deeply into Terlin's skin, forming bleeding crescents in the steel flesh as if it were paper. Teeth glistening with rain and blood sank into Terlin's neck, punching straight through flesh and muscle to clamp down on an artery. Pain rocketed through him, white-hot and absolute, as Jason bit down harder, jaws working like a predator's.

Terlin screamed, striking out with a burst of flame at point-blank range, but Jason's grip only tightened. Blood flooded out, his own, hot and spattering, and for a moment Terlin was certain the Outworlder meant to rip his head clean off. He had never so much as been punched in his life— the pain from this bite was nearly overwhelming all reason as his terror multiplied!

"Release me!" Terlin roared, twisting Foundation into a blade of air, trying to wedge it between their bodies. The wind shrieked, cutting, but Jason clung on with inhuman strength, tearing away another chunk of flesh in his bloody maw. The world spun, as Jason tore away another fist-sized hunk of Terlin's neck, flesh and muscle parting with a sickening rip. The Outworlder gulped it down in a single, shuddering swallow, blood painting his jaw and teeth as he glared up at Terlin with murder in his pitch-black eyes.

Terror crashed through Terlin's core, raw and absolute. He reeled back, panic rising, and swung his fist at Jason's ruined face. The punch was wild, unsteady, landing with only enough force to snap Jason's head backward for a heartbeat—then the man straightened with an enraged roar.

In the back of Terlin's mind, Tuji howled with laughter. "That's it? You hit like a child! Never been in a real fight, have you, little king? This is where you die!"

Terlin tried to wrench himself free, twisting Foundation into jagged spikes of air and ice, but Jason's grip was relentless. The Outworlder's hands were vices, pinning Terlin's arms, and the next instant Jason lunged again, jaws snapping shut on Terlin's shoulder. Agony flared anew as another chunk of flesh vanished, chewed and swallowed with animal efficiency, crunching through skin as hard as steel with no difficulty.

He screamed, the sound raw and humiliating. Terlin's mind raced, desperation driving him to cast spells in every direction—Air Blades, burning bursts of Dok-ah, even a brute-force shockwave of Raw Foundation, enough to liquify organs and burst eardrums—but Jason absorbed each attack, the wounds closing as fast as Terlin could open them. The Outworlder was eating him alive, literally, and Foundation wasn't enough to stop it.

"Pathetic!" Tuji's voice rattled in his skull, giddy and cruel. "You think you're a warrior? You have no clue how to use my body, no knowledge on how to fight! Real men bite, claw, tear—they don't flinch when the blood starts flying! You don't deserve the chance to fight someone like Hoplite!"

"No—" Terlin choked out, blood running down his chest, "I am the King, I—"

Jason slammed him to the ground, pinning him flat, and drove a knee into his ribs so hard Terlin heard bone crack. The Outworlder's mouth opened wide, teeth gleaming, and this time Jason ripped Terlin's cheek right off in a horrible, peeling bite. The pain was blinding, white-hot; he tasted dirt, blood, rain, and the acrid stink of his own terror. He flailed, punching upward, but his blows were feeble—barely pushing Jason's face back before the man snapped forward again, jaws closing on Terlin's forearm with a crunch. Another mouthful of flesh vanished. Terlin tried to scream, but the sound caught in his throat, drowning in the rain and his own fear.

Tuji cackled, his laughter rolling through Terlin's thoughts like thunder. "Finally, my days imprisoned beneath your weak will are over! I go to join my Third Father in his hall, while you will go to the deepest pits of Ankoriss!"

"NO!" Terlin shrieked.

Terlin's legs kicked up, catching Jason in the gut and hurling the man off him with a wet, meaty thwack. The Outworlder tumbled through the air, shrieking with inhuman fury, and crashed into the sodden undergrowth, tearing a trench through roots and mud before slamming to a halt against a mossy boulder. Terlin did not hesitate—he scrambled up, blood dripping from his wounds, and bolted for the trees, Foundation already gathering around his limbs to propel him faster.

"Run, little deer!" Tuji crowed in his mind, voice shrill with delight. "Run! You're prey, and he's the wolf—can't you feel it? That's what you are to him now... Meat!"

Terlin ignored the voice, adrenaline drowning out everything but the pounding of his own heart. Each stride sent agony through his shattered ribs as they reknit themselves, but he didn't dare slow. Behind him, Jason clawed upright, moving on all fours with a grotesque, predatory grace. The man's muscles had shrunk, skin stretched tight over bone, but he was faster than ever—black eyes locked on Terlin, lips peeled back from bloodstained teeth. The sight of it stabbed Terlin with pure, animal panic. He could feel himself healing, the pain easing, but that did nothing to diminish his terror.

He wove fire behind him, blue flames curling in the rain, hoping to slow the monster down. Jason simply barreled through the inferno, burning without pause, the flames eating at his flesh but not slowing his advance. Terlin hurled another wave of fire, brighter this time, hot enough to melt stone, and Jason howled as it struck. The man blurred past a towering tree, his body still ablaze, and the flames leapt up to catch on a brittle, rain-shielded limb. In an instant, the dry wood ignited, fire blooming under the canopy, and Terlin's mind reeled.

That was it—the tree. Jason had set it ablaze, just as the Spiral Queen had foretold. Not the Ilum tree, no, nothing so grand—it was just a tree, any tree, and Terlin was the one who had brought it all to ruin. His vision swam as hysteria clawed at his throat; he could hear the flames devouring the branch, the crackling roar echoing through his skull. He almost missed Jason's final leap, the man already closing the gap, jaws stretched wide for his throat.

Terlin abandoned all composure and dissolved into mist, the world shifting to a blur of color as he shot upward, out of reach. Jason's maw snapped shut on empty air, the man's roar exploding the air around him, rattling the very leaves and deflecting the rain away from him. Terlin soared through the boughs, Foundation burning, cursing himself with every fiber of his being. He would never face Jason again—not directly, not ever, not after this.

He drifted high above the canopy, the memory of the burning branch searing through his thoughts. He had failed every standard of elven decency—not only had he killed his own Watchers, he had brought fire to the sacred woods, something no elf would ever forgive. Guilt pressed down on him, suffocating, and for a moment he wanted to vanish completely, to let the mist carry him to oblivion.

Tuji surged in the back of his mind, the Pillar-Born's presence suddenly immense. "That's it, Terlin! You're weak, and you know it—let me take over, let me show you how a real man fights—"

"No!" Terlin screamed, clamping down on the invading will with everything he had. Tuji pressed harder, tendrils of hunger and violence lashing out, and for a terrifying moment Terlin felt his own mind being pushed out by Tuji. He forced the will back, barely, pain throbbing behind his eyes as Tuji laughed again.

"You're slipping, kingling. Next time, I'll have you, I have a foot in the door now." He could hear the mad grin in the half-orcs tone.

Terlin clung to what little control remained, shuddering in the rain as he let the mist carry him further and further from the carnage below. He would never return—not unless he had no other choice. The shame, the horror, the certainty of his own weakness, it all coiled around his heart like a serpent. He had thought himself clever, a ruler without equal, but all he had done was make himself the villain of every story the Faewood would ever tell.

He drifted onward, hollow and alone. There had to be another way, something else he could do to drive the beast from the forest! He would never forgive himself if he failed the Faewood, not now, not after witnessing what Jason had become, he was a real, genuine monster, a creature from hell! And he'd let it kill good elves, let it set a tree on fire— the shame was acid to his insides. Terlin's vapor-form streaked homeward, the Ilum tree's dark spire rising through veils of rain and mist. He lashed himself to the path, Foundation burning in his veins, a single command keeping Tuji's laughter at bay: survive, survive, survive. The tree took him, after what seemed to be an eternity of hesitation on its part.

Terlin staggered toward the throne, a hand pressed hard to the wound at his throat, or at least, the nasty scar that had formed in its place. The skin felt harder now than it had been before, but he could hardly bring himself to acknowledge that fact. The Harkcrystal loomed overhead, its corona pulsing a sullen red, casting shadows that crawled up the walls like accusing fingers. He ignored the sting of a hundred little aches, each one a reminder of his humiliation, and flew up the root bowl to the seats above.

He collapsed into the root-throne, breath coming in shudders. The wood creaked under his weight, alive with a nervous tension that mirrored his own. He buried his face in his hands, trying to force out the memory of Jason's black eyes, the teeth sinking in, the helpless terror. For a moment, he let the darkness inside the vault swallow him whole.

He needed a plan. Something—anything—to hold the Faewood together. If word got out, if anyone knew of his defeat, or that he had fled, his kingship would fall apart. He could feel the madness circling, Tuji's voice whispering in the cracks of his mind, waiting for the next slip. He needed to think—he needed time—

A Watcher materialized in the root bowl, kneeling so low his forehead brushed the living wood. "Majesty," the Watcher said, "I bring news from the eastern perimeter."

Terlin didn't look up. "Speak."

"We ambushed a large group of human poachers, we left no survivors." He replied meekly.

Terlin nodded, not trusting his voice.

The Watcher hesitated, then risked a glance upward. "Majesty… are you well?"

The question landed like a slap. Terlin's fingers curled into his scalp, nails scraping hard enough to draw blood. "Of course I am well!" he screamed, the words echoing off the roots, sharp enough to make the Watcher flinch. "Why wouldn't I be!?"

"I-I am sorry-"

"Triple the guard on the Root-Wall, now!"

The Watcher didn't hesitate and immediately vanished, popping out of existence in an instant.

Terlin sagged back into the throne, head lolling forward, the weight of failure crushing him like a stone. His hands shook; he pressed them to his face, smearing blood and rainwater down his cheeks. For a long time, there was only the sound of his own ragged breathing, the distant thrum of the Harkcrystal overhead.

The tears came without warning, hot and bitter, streaking down his face. He wept for the Faewood, for Beia, for the Watchers he'd just sent to their deaths. He wept for everything he had ruined, and everything he could never make right. The sound of it filled the empty hall, harsh and ugly, but he could not stop—not until the grief had wrung him dry and left nothing but a hollow, trembling shell behind.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand, shame burning in his chest. There had to be a way to salvage this—a way to keep Jason away, to keep the prophecy from coming true. He would find it, or die trying. But for now, alone in the shadow of the Ilum tree, Terlin Fire-Eyes let himself mourn the king he should have been, and the monster he had become.

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