[First Era – Year 4 of the Divinity War; The Faint, region undefined]

  Moraithe's boots hit the ground with a rhythmic thud as he sprinted across the unstable landscape, each step sending vibrations through the cracked earth beneath him. This world, known as The Faint for its dim burnt yellow sun, was alive and chaotic. It was a volatile storm of mountains rising and sinking, valleys collapsing into sinkholes as the mithsyrium caused the world to boil and churn. He couldn't have run at a third of this speed before reaching the rank of master.

  If he was ever going to stop the war he’d started, he needed more power.

  Shore and Break, arcshell golems he'd brought to this world and trained, ran alongside him. They’d grown thigh high now, leathery, scurrying creatures with barbed tails and flat shells upon their backs. Shore dove into the earth becoming one with it like the mithsyrium that ran in her blood. Break jumped into a vein of mithsyrium, and he began lapping it up, greedily.

  With a sharp intake of breath, Moraithe drew an arrow from his quiver, his fingers steady despite the pounding of his feet. The arrow tip shimmered in the dim light, its steel vibrating with potential. He sighted down the arrow as he prepared his mind for the entanglement.

  A mountain jutted into his path, but he had a runic key entangled with the mass of his own mountain. He loosed. It flew true, streaking across the turbulent air like a bolt of lightning. He focused on the arrow's tip, envisioning the force of a mountain's mass binding to it precisely as it struck, merging with the arrow's as if they were one. With a final, desperate mental lunge, he snapped the entanglement into place. The arrow shuddered, its weight becoming an immutable force—immense and terrifying—boring through the mountain.

  When the dust cleared, a tunnel gaped open straight through the rock.

  His hand began to shake, a cold sweat beading on his forehead as the mental strain grew from another entanglement. After so many miles of this, the entropy of each entanglement surged as his mind fought to contain the mounting chaos. He breathed, working through the running meditation to restore order to his mind. For only the will of a living soul could reverse entropy.

  Steady … just a little more …

  The ground trembled beneath him as the land groaned and shifted. The mithsyrium was relentless. It fed and pushed, rearranging the earth with terrifying speed, but now, at least, the path was clear. Shore emerged from the ground and ran forward, testing the tunnel alongside Break. Moraithe followed close behind.

  They moved quickly. Moraithe's breath labored as he raced forward, emerging to search for another obstacle. The world seemed to tremble and twist, as if in response to his actions, but he ignored it. There was no time to slow down. Every moment mattered.

  Suddenly the ground began to buckle beneath him. It was a sinkhole. He whistled. Break and Shore dove into the earth only to come up one under each foot as the earth collapsed. He leaped from the hard carapace of one back to the other, spanning the gap of collapsing earth. He rolled, and his pets emerged from the earth alongside him.

  “Thanks.” He patted them each in turn, then continued his run.

  He'd managed to clear some of the chaos in his mind by the time he reached the next obstacle—a towering cliff, cracked and veined with swirling veins of mithsyrium, its presence causing the air to feel thick and heavy.

  Without hesitation, he reached into his pouch and drew forth a rock. This would hold his salt entanglement. It was some time into his training on this world that he had finally discovered it. Salt resisted mithsyrium. It could push away the strange substance. And this rock was entangled with a runic key that he'd placed on an entire mound of salt he'd discovered. He hefted the rock in his palm, then with a practiced throw he flung the rock at the veins of mithsyrium.

  Moraithe's focus sharpened as he cast the entanglement. His mind flickered with the feedback from the earth—the pulsing mithsyrium trying to resist, as though the earth itself were alive, angry, and pushing back at his every effort.

  He struggled to maintain his focus, feeling his mind strain under the weight of the entanglement—the entropy. He had to be careful—he couldn't let the chaos overwhelm him. The salt entanglement wrung the mithsyrium from the cliff, making it sure and stable while the ground below shot up under the splash of the mithsyrium.

  Break clicked in pain as he stepped on the salt-entangled earth. “Careful” Moraithe called, and Shore dove aside to avoid it.

  Pillars of earth sprang up in the wake of the mithsyrium. He flung himself over the edge of the cliff, deftly leaping from one jutting spike of earth to another until he reached level ground.

  Methodically, he carved a safe path through the chaos both physically and mentally.

  His body shuddered as every strand of entropy pushed his limits, twisted his perception. And he knew he was growing stronger. But he held on, his eyes and senses scanning for the thing he was truly seeking—fragments of his lost memories.

  The land before him boiled with an unsettling ferocity. This time he would freeze the path forward. He'd set the runic key for this entanglement in the cold depths of space. He loosed another arrow, and as it struck he entangled the earth, freezing it in place, forcing it to hold firm, and it held.

  Moraithe let out a shaky breath, relieved for a moment, despite the increased entropy. He had cleared the path. For now.

  Each entanglement took more from him, but it also pushed his limits, made him stronger.

  Elithir had told him that since he was merely regaining power he had lost, his training would help him progress much faster than normal. Already in one year, he'd gained nearly two hundred self-assurance, vastly exceeding his expectations. But still no fragments of his memories.

  Moraithe's senses flared as he moved across the cracked landscape. The tug in his chest—faint, but unmistakable—grew stronger with each step. It wasn't just the earth that called to him now. Something beneath it, buried in the chaos of mithsyrium, resonated with his blood. A fragment of his past teased across his senses. It would not hold still, the mithsyrium pushing and pulling with its relentless hunger, hiding what he sought beneath layers of ever-changing rock.

  He stopped and whistled to Break and Shore, standing at the edge of a chasm that opened up near his feet. The ground ahead was dark with the deep presence of mithsyrium—a thick, blackened mass, swirling and pulsing like the belly of some great beast. He could feel its power tugging at the ground around him, threatening to swallow him whole if he stepped too close.

  The pulse in his chest was growing stronger. He was close. He could feel it.

  With a sharp intake, Moraithe blew out a deep, steadying breath. He would have to push back the mithsyrium—hold it at bay long enough to reach whatever lay beneath. He could feel the pull of his memory, a faint whisper now, beneath all the chaos.

  He reached into his pouch and withdrew another stone he'd prepared for a salt entanglement. It glinted faintly in the dim light. He needed to stabilize this chunk of earth, so the memory wouldn't slip away. Hopefully, that would create an island within a circle of mithsyrium which would allow the piece holding his memory to move freely.

  Moraithe dropped the stone and whistled. Shore leaped on the stone, snatching it in her jaws and boring it down into the earth. He waited for her to emerge before he focused, sharpening his will to cast the entanglement. The entropy it brought pressed against him like a weight, but he fought to hold it back, keeping it from flooding his mind.

  Focus, focus …

  The land groaned beneath him as the salt began to resonate. He could feel it—like a low hum, a connection that reached deep into the earth itself. The mithsyrium resisted, but the salt pushed back, flexing against the pressure.

  Moraithe gritted his teeth, his mind fighting against the rising entropy. Chaos. It was all slipping through his thoughts as he held the entanglement together, anchoring the salt's power to the rock, wringing out the mithsyrium. Slowly, the land began to shift—he whistled for Shore and Break, pouring thoughts into their mind, asking them to dive under the rock and push it up through the ground.

  They dove in.

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  Slowly, carefully, it began to rise. The earth trembled as though holding its breath.

  He clenched the entanglement, feeling the entropy in his mind tighten. The ground shuddered, and with an audible crack, a piece of land, heavy with rock and trapped earth, lifted slowly from the morass. It groaned in protest, its surface straining under the shifting pressure. Moraithe called Break and Shore out, then with a great surge he expanded the entanglement, pushing the mithsyrium far back into the earth.

  Relaxing, he let it go. Under the pressure the ground cracked open, revealing layers of ancient stone and debris—layers that had been long untouched.

  With a deep, labored breath, he knelt, wiping sweat from his brow. His mind was in chaos, but the land was stable.

  Moraithe drew a sword from his belt, then prepared one more entanglement. Holding the blade high overhead, he slammed it into the earth, entangling the weight of a mountain. Chips of stone and dust exploded as it cracked open.

  He wedged himself into the crack and found himself close, so close to a fragment of his past. He lifted the blade once more and plunged it into the exposed rock, chiseling away at the layers of stone. His hands worked quickly but carefully, the blade scraping against the hard surface. As he dug deeper, he felt it—the pulse again, more distinct now, thrumming through his fingertips as he scraped the earth away.

  Finally, his hand hit something solid, something different. He paused, heart racing, as he brushed away the last of the grit. There, nestled in the rocky layers, was a small fragment—shimmering faintly with an inner light. He felt the connection, the energy that tied it to him.

  His breath caught in his throat as he held it in his palm, his fingers trembling. It was a shard of memory, a fragment that had been lost deep beneath the surface. As he held it, a flood of sensations crashed into him—familiar sights, sounds, and a face he couldn't quite name—but the emotions tied to it were undeniable. A warmth, a sense of safety, a moment of peace in a life long forgotten.

  He held out the fragment to Shore and Break, letting them sniff it, resonate with its aura, then he entangled that memory into them, sealing it so they would always remember, so they would know what to look for. Then he sent them off to hunt through the earth for more of them. Hopefully, being able to plum the depths of this world, dive into it, they would be able to delve more thoroughly than he ever had.

  With a mystic grin, Moraithe held the memory fragment close, and began to consume its essence. His heart ached as he felt a tear slip from his eye, his body shaking from the weight of the memories flooding back. He wasn't sure what he had found, but he knew it was a piece of the life he had once lived.

  He saw his mother, her warmth, living there upon a star, amid love so bright that it shone out to fill the universe with light. He had lived upon the First Star. It had once been his home. And he longed to reach it once more. That moment he vowed to himself he would work until he stood upon the First Star and inscribed a runic key upon it, to tie him to that place forevermore.

  Now, he looked within himself and saw nearly a thousand more self-assurance shining from his aura. His self-assurance now measured eight thousand five hundred and twenty-four. He was nearing the knight rank. Oh, how glorious that would be.

  A sobering thought came to him. Power alone would not be enough to stop this war. Elithir had more power than anyone, yet he couldn’t stop the war with all that strength. Power, yes, but he needed something else, too. He needed a better plan.

  * * *

  

[First Era – Year 5 of the Divinity War; Lenar, training camp]

  After so long beneath the dim burnt yellow sun of The Faint, it was strange, almost unsettling to stand in the light of a sun so bright. This was a true star, unlike the dim counterfeit Throm’tor had made for his world, his was a counterfeit that unlike a true star was slowly burning out. True stars reveal greater truth, under it’s light his knowledge and self-assurance would surely grow faster. It hung low over the training grounds, its golden light shimmering off the rows of soldiers practicing their formations. The distant hum of bowstrings and the clash of practice blades filled the air.

  Elithir walked with purposeful strides, his tall, commanding presence making the surrounding soldiers instinctively straighten their postures. Beside him, Moraithe followed, his youthful face a mix of determination and curiosity.

  Elithir's gaze swept over the grounds, taking in the precision of the drills. “You've seen battle before, Moraithe,” he began, his voice rich with authority, “but it is different among the ranks of an army. I want you to see how things are done. Get a taste of pitched battle.”

  Moraithe nodded thoughtfully, watching a group of soldiers break into an intense sparring match. The thuds of entangled weapons striking bright shields reverberated through the air. “It will be a good opportunity to see how my training has progressed.”

  There was pride in Elithir's expression, but also a cool, calculating edge. “Precisely. But I don't intend to leave you here for long. This is just a taste.”

  Moraithe smirked. “What will it be next, training in a volcano?”

  Elithir chuckled, the sound deep, almost regal. “I have something quite a bit more cerebral in mind.”

  Moraithe raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really?”

  The Infinite's eyes gleamed with something akin to a quiet excitement. “I've been considering a new sort of unit—espionage. But it will be a unique force, an elite unit with one particular advantage. I want you to each craft yourselves a second body.”

  Moraithe stopped walking, blinking as he processed the words. “A second body?” He looked his father over, searching for any sign that he was joking. But Elithir's expression remained as still and commanding as ever.

  “Yes,” Elithir replied, his tone leaving no room for uncertainty.

  Moraithe's mind raced as he processed the implications. “And just how do you expect me to control two bodies?” His voice had a faint edge of disbelief.

  Elithir slowed his pace, allowing Moraithe to catch up. “Not at the same time, of course, but while you are sleeping in one body you control the other. You alternate. Imagine the advantages.”

  Moraithe paused, looking out over the vast training grounds, his thoughts drifting. “Two appearances could be useful for espionage, I suppose.”

  Elithir gave a small nod, his tone low but filled with conviction. “Not only that, but it opens possibilities for communication, being in two places at once. And if you are caught or killed in one body, the other will remain untouched. You won't be lost, nor will anything you've uncovered.”

  The idea took root in Moraithe's mind, growing steadily as he mulled over the potential. “It's … clever. I'll admit, the thought of having a backup is appealing.” He glanced toward the horizon as if envisioning the possibilities. “Have you asked Saffrael and Norgoth? It would be nice if we could work together on this.”

  Elithir's lips curled into a rare smile. “An excellent suggestion. I've come up with a name for it—those who live two lives—Drackmoor.”

  Moraithe's eyes glinted with a mix of excitement and challenge, a mystic grin coming to his lips. “Drackmoor … I'll look forward to it.” He turned his gaze back to the soldiers training, then exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing. “But, I suppose I'll have to focus on this for now.”

  Elithir's smile widened slightly. “Yes. For now, let us see how well you fare with the army. And remember, the battlefield is only the beginning of what you will face. The real test is yet to come.”

  As they walked back toward the center of the training grounds, the hum of bowstrings and the clang of metal filled the air, but in Moraithe's mind, something else was stirring—a new path, a new challenge, and a new destiny in the making.

  They stopped before a solid-looking man in a red cloak. “This will be your commander.” Elithir turned toward the man. “Welthorne, here is your new recruit. Use him well.”

  Elithir began to turn away. But Moraithe stopped him. “By the way, how much gratitude do you recommend for battle?”

  “Oh, you know you have enough.”

  Moraithe chuckled. “I mean for them.”

  “Two thousand is the traditional recommendation.” Elithir's brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

  “I just want to understand my brothers in arms.”

  Elithir clapped him on the shoulder. “Very good. Consider what you want your new body to look like while I am gone.”

  Moraithe nodded, and with a wink, Elithir vanished.

  He stood at the edge of the camp, heart pounding in his chest. Then he followed the commander to join his unit.

  He'd thought little of it, until now, standing before his comrades. They were preparing for their next campaign, and the weight of their potential struggle hung heavy in the air.

  He had one advantage, one way he could win this war. Gratitude was the answer. If he could shield them, make them invulnerable, the Severed would have to abandon their plans. But something in him whispered he should do this slowly, carefully.

  Moraithe stepped forward. His fellow soldiers, tired and worn, exchanged glances. They didn't know what to expect from him—a fresh recruit from who knew where.

  After a few exercises, they were released. And Moraithe began to mingle with his brothers in arms. He introduced himself and learned their names. Then, to each he extended his hand, a shimmer of silver light flowed from his chest, pooling in the air, a soft glow illuminating each face. He gave them a gift of gratitude. There in his hand, it felt like warmth, like a comforting embrace, but more—infinitely more. “To protect you in battle,” was all he said.

  The soldiers' eyes widened as the sensation surged into their very bones, like a second skin of protection. He could have given them more, so much more, but for now, he wanted to see how this panned out.

  One by one, he approached each soldier offering them a tiny fraction of his infinite wealth. Their gratitude toward him radiated in waves, mingling with his own, replenishing the endless well he held inside. They walked away, lighter, more certain, their heads raised high, almost glowing with the ethereal power of his gift.

  He didn't stop at his own unit. As the days passed, he slowly worked his way through the army. How could he let anyone fall if he could so easily protect them?

  At first, everything seemed perfect. The army was prepared, their protection strong. But as the days wore on, Moraithe began to notice the murmurs—soft at first, growing louder.

  “Did you hear? Gratitude's being handed out like it's nothing. Prices are rising in the market. Bring as many casks as you can manage.”

  “I saw a merchant this morning—he nearly doubled the cost of armor! Said there was too much gratitude going around.”

  Moraithe's heart sank. He had never intended for his gift to be used like this, as money, squandered on drink and gambling, breaking their economy. He'd only wanted to protect them.

  He wandered to the market, where voices were growing more heated. Merchants haggled, their eyes glinting with sharp calculation. The prices of food, armor, and supplies had skyrocketed. He overheard one grizzled vendor laughing as he struck a deal, “The more gratitude there is, the more we can charge.”

  Soldiers were growing angry as the merchant's greed grew.

  Moraithe stood frozen, the weight of his mistake settling on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. His gift, once pure, had been tainted by greed. His heart burned with shame.

  Moraithe cursed at himself. “I can't let gratitude become a weapon.”

  And so, he walked away, knowing that he had much to learn—about generosity, about his responsibility, and the proper use of power.