Tent Gallows

I sprint through the Primary's streets at nearly the speed of sound, my footsteps a blur against not the pavement but the walls of the taller buildings. The wind rushes past me, whipping my hair and tugging at my clothes. I leap from building to building, choosing to keep off the crowded sidewalks to avoid hurting anyone. The city's structure blurs as I streak by, a mix of glass, onyx, and concrete merging into a rapid-fire backdrop.

Living Manacles allows me to soar without a moment of pause, keeping my momentum up throughout the whole journey. I could use Soultrek, but it doesn't work well with the complicated landscape of a city. I'd run out of available Ether halfway to Barrage, what people have come to call the hole leading to the Gate of Death.

As I speed through the streets, I hear the scared screams of the people below, but I can't slow down. There's something far more urgent demanding my attention—the artificial sun that has formed in the distance. An explosion, massive enough to light up the sky, casts a harsh, unnatural glow across the cityscape. Its heat doesn't manage to ripple through the air, but the Ether does.

Despite the distance, my skin prickles at the words bestowed by the Ether. War Ends With Ashes. How fucking ominous. Blodwyn and I have already gone through who it could be, but we have no idea.

Gods shouldn't have Sirzas! Not Natural ones, at least, but Usen doesn't possess any Unnaturals under her reign. But... it can't be Behemoth. It doesn't fit his path at all! Or Tonuyn! Or Ytern! Nothing makes fucking sense!

Regardless, I'm more concerned with reaching the source of that light than anything else. Figuring out who it is can wait. The west horizon, where the explosion occurred, is a stark silhouette against the blazing artificial sun. The glow is too bright and too intense to be natural. It sears my vision, casting deep shadows in the streets. I can see it even with just a glance, and the sight sends a surge of adrenaline through me.

With each bound, the shockwaves of Ether reverberate through my legs, yet they are minute at this vast distance. An average human or even a low Sigiled wouldn't notice the Ether. With my senses, however... It is very different. The city blurs in my peripheral vision, but my destination is crystal clear—a large tent, a hub of activity, surrounded by a swarm of soldiers.

Barrage.

Despite the distant tree of fire quickly turning dark into the ashes it warns of, they stand at attention, rifles poised, all facing the same direction. It's clear they're prepared for the worst. I'm not the only one who understands the gravity of the situation.

Tomas, Elizabeth, or Rich must have already made a decision. Johnny made up his mind the second he saw it, I'm sure.

I crash into the earth beside the tent, landing with a heavy thud that sends dust and debris flying. The soldiers flinch at my sudden arrival, their weapons shifting toward me, but then they recognize me and relax. I'm not their enemy. The earth is scarred and charred from my heated grounding, but I don't care about it, striding past the soldiers, most of whom are at least at the 4th Sigil. With their acknowledgment, I enter the tent.

Pushing through the tent flap, I duck into a dimly lit space where four people are already gathered around a long table. The air inside is tense, filled with the murmurs of hurried conversations and the soft rustle of maps being shuffled and marked. I take a moment to survey the scene, finding Elizabeth the head of the conversation.

The table of their discussion is cluttered with documents, charts, and maps, each one scarred with various symbols and markings. Standing at the head of the table on the other side is a scarred commanding officer. Only after all this time away do I finally realize just how much Tomas has grown.

He's settled into Marshall's position nicely. I knew he would. But it's still satisfying to see.

The young general is pointing at a map laid out in front of him, indicating different flags and discussing strategies with Elizabeth while two others listen. To his right, the young woman with dark circles under her eyes leans heavily on the table, her fingers gripping the edge with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. She seems worn down, yet her gaze is sharp as she nods to me with a smile.

Beside her is an armless man, his shoulders broad and his posture relaxed despite his condition. He seems completely at ease, as if the chaos outside holds no sway over him. Of course, Lennon doesn't care. He just wants to fight whatever caused that Sirza. I'm sure that's what he's thinking.

The swordsman's eyes flicker to me for a moment, and I can't help but smirk. Yeah. I'm damned right.

At the far end of the table, however, nearly blending into the shadows cast by the tent's lamps, is a dark-skinned man who watches everything with a quiet intensity. His presence is subtle but commanding, his eyes tracking each movement, each gesture.

We both do a double-take, staring at each other closely. He... looks familiar to that Grayskin within Remington's memory. This is my first time meeting one. They do live beyond both the Pygmies and demons, so they are incredibly rare over here. But who is it? Oh, right. The chains. This must be Granulen. The Demigod greets me with a low nod; his pupils are just as abyssal as his flesh.

With my entrance, I glance at the map they're focused on and immediately notice three large, opaque crimson circles. One of them encompasses the area where we stand.

Those are the Gates of Death.

But that's not all. A wide circle of black ink covers the east side of the continent, nearly exiting the Depths and entering the Wilds. That's the Sirza's range.

"We just received information from Tonuyn. This... Sirza comes from a God. One of Hers... A Nahullo with a scythe. It was spurred by a trap the Inscriber Of Creation had placed. According to him, it first started with a grand explosion of fire and ash; then the winds pulled inward toward God before wrapping around his scythe..."

Tomas trails off his report from Tonuyn, hesitating to continue for a second. Then, he glances at Lennon, Granulen, Elizabeth, and me before gathering the resolve.

"Behemoth and Tonuyn are going to attack him. They request Lennon's aid."

"I'm up for it."

The Demigod still wrapped up in bandages from his near-pass with Death and death automatically signs himself up for an even greater battle. I can only sigh and berate him. He doesn't understand.

"This one won't be like Maxemista. He'll be even stronger. I thought She wasn't supposed to have any Unnaturals. How come... this Nahullo exists? Are there any more?"

Tomas shrugs as an answer to my question and continues to search his papers while Lennon chuckles, rolling his shoulders. All the while, Elizabeth's eyes scan the swordsman repeatedly.

"I can do what I want. And what I want to do is fight a warrior I didn't know existed as of yesterday. Who cares if I almost died a day ago?"

I open my mouth to refute his words, but Elizabeth beats me to it. She side-eyes him, grilling into the man without remorse.

"And what then, Lennon? When you kill another God? What will be next? Another one? And another? What is the point of this crusade of yours? In the end, you WILL die. It is only a matter of time before your luck runs out. You going there won't matter. All it will do is cost the life of one of our strongest soldiers."

My feet move on their own as I slide beside Elizabeth, just in case Lennon goes off the rails. Yet, the man doesn't show any of his typical ruthlessness. Maybe even he realizes his condition. Instead, he calmly retorts with a hand on the inky circle inscribed onto the map. His Dominion has grown so... intricate.

"Unless I win. Unless I don't stop winning. Then, anything is possible, no? Which are you willing to bet on, girly? Me? Or some God you've never heard of? I'll kill, and I'll kill until there is nothing stronger than me in the realms with a face I don't like. You either let me leave, or I will simply go anyway."

His words are infuriating, but I cannot refuse what he delivers in his argument. It's absurd. Impossibly confident. But... if Lennon were not both of those things... He would have died long before he decapitated the God Of Forests.

Elizabeth releases a long sigh, her knuckles tightening before extending once more. This must ruin some part of her plan. Though... I know what she is probably thinking right now. No plan survives contact with Lennon Hull.

"Very well, Lennon Hull. Go. We won't stop you. Just know that many will die if you do not return before the Gods breach the Barrage."

The woman steps close to the Demigod from her chair, utterly ignoring their difference in status while staring down at him, and pokes him directly in the chest. The swordsman is unfazed, not even budging a minuscule amount, but she doesn't care. I smile at her growth. A year ago, she could hardly look at Johnny without being scared.

"You. You better win, okay? I'm not a Gambler, but I'll hedge my bets this once. If you don't... everything will be so ruined, that we might just all die. We cannot win this without you. You and Wyatt."

Lennon smiles, curling his head to look down at the woman while the rest of us three simply watch the conversation. He taps her back on the forehead with his Dominion without any genuine force, pushing her head back a tad before walking right out of the tent.

"Sure are cutting it close, huh, Eli's little girl? I'll be back. Might not be in one piece, but I'll be back. Always am. I don't lose often. And when I do... I win the rematch."

The last I see of Lennon before he strikes himself with his own Dominion, shooting across the sky at a pace that shakes the surroundings, is his straightened back. The bandages beneath leak through his shirt with their paleness and slight crimson tint, but the man doesn't care.

He is already gone.

Only then does Granulen speak, the man not moving from the shadows even an inch.

"How intriguing of a man. Reminds me of one of my sons, only a thousand times more capable of backing up his bravado. Well, then? What shall we do, men? And my lady? Ytern requested aid; will we acquiesce?"

Looking at Granulen, his clothes a series of interlocking scales of some darkened chitin with a crown made only of shadow on his head, I feel quite suspicious of the Grayskin. Why is he so... amiable with us? So... on our side?

"We—"

"I'm sorry, but I need to ask this. Why are you aligned with us, Granulen? You are not of our kind. And... your people are thousands of miles away. What makes you so invested in this war? Specifically, on our side?"

The tall man, easily several inches over me and similar to Tomas in height, takes one step to reach the table and exit the shadows. Then, he bows slightly to me, lowering a straightened back at the hips. It seems oddly practiced, as if this is something he does often.

"I see. We have not spoken in-depth due to your recent return. Elizabeth has negotiated a treaty with my people. At the end of this war, railroads, farms, guns, and a variety of other technological inventions will be supplied to my people. You see, we Shadow People live in a... feudal society. We desperately need better agriculture and transportation through the Graylands. It has been difficult to survive bordering the other two grand peoples, but we have managed until now, thanks to the Boulevard Of Shadows. How much longer it will sustain us is unknown."

I listen to the man clear his throat before he steps back into the darkness, promising me his help.

"For the foreseeable future, until the threat of Her no longer exists and our treaty is finished, I am on your side. The only exception is if the fate of my people is in jeopardy by aiding you all. Which, from my observations, is the opposite. I'd much rather sit in on these meetings than the Nahullo's or the demon's."

Tomas raps the table with his knuckles to take the attention back from Granulen and me. Two more enter the tent as a third Flickers in. Abraham, hauling Bonfire behind him, sits at a seat while the half-Nahullo glares at his best friend, forcing him to be silent for all our sakes. Virgil, like Granulen, rests within the edges of the tent, leaning on a pole while he listens intently. Both appear to prefer a lack of attention.

"We need to help the Nahullo. Not just because Primrose is there. Should they fall... It'll leave us and the demons fighting on two sides. Even if we can't stop the collapse of Iced Rampart, we need to get out its heavy hitters like Ytern and the Councilmembers. Harsh, but they need to live. We need muscle. Badly, and every dead Angel is a disaster. Every dead Demigod is another God left to wreak havoc without an opponent."

I nod slowly, seeing Tomas' reasoning clearly. The Nahullo, the people, cannot be wiped out. We need their power.

More people enter the tent, with Rich, Earl, Dawn, and several others entering like Sylvia. I shortly nod to them as I remember that Johnny has already left for Gravescross.

If the Nahullo fall... Gravescross will be where that battle takes place, settled far southeast of Iced Rampart. It'll take, at most, hours for a Demigod to cross that distance, however. With Soultrek... I might be able to do that in a fraction of the time. And so, I volunteer myself as Tomas keys everyone in with more information.

"I'll go reinforce the Nahullo. I can get there the fastest. Virgil would be a close second, but if this is going to get as bad as I think it will, I should go."

Elizabeth and Tomas bob their head simultaneously, not finding anything wrong with my words. Still, my friend doesn't seem too at peace with my decision. The soldier, however, agrees with me without hesitation.

"Good thinking, Wyatt. You'll head there as soon as possible. I'll have Virgil and... No. Virgil, you stay here. Granulen may need help should we be breached soon. Abraham. Bonfire. You two go with him."

I smile at my two friends as they grin back at me—our very own mission.

A short laugh spews from Bonfire, but Abraham smacks him in the gut, shutting him up real quick. I shake my head and leave the tent as the meeting quickly turns into plans for when I get back from the Nahullo, whether it is a success or a failure.

Regardless, the two follow me out, but Virgil follow with an inaudible grace. The man shares news of Marigold before letting me leave.

"The little one Isaac found is doing good. I have her set up with a daycare and a nanny. Though, she'll need someone to take care of her. I doubt Aron will want to babysit forever."

I thank him for his effort in getting Marigold to the surface. Then... I spend a few seconds in thought before making a decision.

"She just needs to be taken care of for a little while. I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind raising another. Especially one as special as her. Ask her and see what she thinks."

Virgil nods as his body turns indistinct before vanishing entirely, likely doing as I suggested. Aniwye wasn't in the meeting, preferring to wait at the bottom of Barrage for my father.

I don't have the same determination as her. I just don't.

Just a second after Virgil leaves, the man made of fire positions a bet. It is poorly timed, but I don't refuse it. I could use the tomfoolery.

"I bet I can get there before you, Wyatt!"

Chuckling, I leap into the air with a Living Manacle stretched onto a distant building. Then, once in the air, I dive into my soul, letting my body turn into nothing but formlessness. Before I transform into Soultrek completely, I counter his bet.

"Not in your dreams!"

I know this is meant to be serious, and it will be. It won't hurt to have a little fun on the way. I know not to go overboard. As my body turns into ethereal paleness, I recall just how quick Soultrek is.

A wash of colors surrounds me as I move far too fast to comprehend the land around me, my body hurtling over the continent with a velocity that would shatter anyone else. The world becomes a blur, a cascade of muddled colors as I race through the atmosphere. The earth beneath me is a distant smear of greens, blues, and browns, with cities appearing as little more than faint glimmers amidst the rush. The air around me distorts due to my speed, rippling and bending like heat waves over a desert.

I angled myself correctly before shooting off, so I don't have to worry about navigation. Yet, the true problem surfaces quickly as I don't know how fast I'm moving.

Nonetheless, the trip across half the continent takes mere minutes, my senses struggling to keep up with the changing scenery. I can barely make out the outlines of mountains, the edges of vast forests, the shimmering stretches of rivers and lakes. Everything is a blur of colors and shapes, indistinct in my high-velocity sprint. I can feel the pressure building around me, the atmosphere pushing back as I break through clouds and whip past the wind.

Then, I notice a swathe of white land with shimmering ice across the frontier. Instantly, I yank on the Ether for Soultrek, but it still takes a moment to cease.

My momentum abruptly halts, and I find myself high up in the sky, suspended in a moment of pure stillness. The ground is far below me, a patchwork quilt of icy landscapes that suddenly snaps into focus. The sudden shift from impossible speed to a complete stop sends a shockwave through my body, and for a brief moment, gravity seems to pause.

But gravity has a way of asserting itself, and I begin to fall.

As I plummet through the sky, I notice something below.

A sphere of ice encapsulates a city in the distance while fires rage within it. That must be Iced Rampart. I can see many other smaller settlements, but nothing can possibly be called a city. So, pushing the Ether through my soul once more, I position myself for that very orb of ice cradling the city.

Within, I can see projectiles form from the ice to kill demons corrupted by Darklight, and I quickly find the Warmaster himself. Ytern. With one more Soultrek burning through my body, I send myself right for him.