Ratface vaulted over the fence into the graveyard. It was in a raised hill with the altar sitting in the middle. The dark still swept across its floor like swaying grass. She gave the ground an experimental stomp. She was met with silence. So the place was still silent then. Her stomp clearly could be heard by something. The stragglers of the Empty looked up and began advancing towards her. Ratface hissed and drew her sword and knife. A moment later two bolts slammed into the creatures ahead of her. She hadn’t heard them.

  “Careful little rat. Don’t rush so fast you fall in a grave,” said Wolfhand. He landed next to her. Ratface tilted her head.

  “I shouldn’t be able to hear you so close,” she said.

  The old goblin tapped a stone woven into his armour. Ratface recognised it as a goblin rune for talking. It translated more like yapping.

  “A gift from Vin, those close to me can talk.”

  A gift using a goblin rune. That was interesting. To Ratface’s knowledge only humans used rune engraving and they had their own language. To use a goblins rune for magic was unheard of to her. She couldn’t imagine the elf was fluent, just because elven runes were based on theirs didn’t mean that it was the same, but to use it instead of human or elven language had interesting connotations.

  All things that could wait until after she’d dealt with whatever problem was going on. Ratface focused on the magic around her and found none. That didn’t mean she found nothing.

  The sea around her all connected to something in the middle of the graveyard. Probably the Altar.

  More strings darted out from it towards where most of the Empty had gone. Unlike most magic she’d seen which seemed unstable, this strange thing was like steel bars through reality. It burned reality just by being where it was. That burn must be what made magic so weak around it.

  Again, interesting but ignoring the point. The place she needed to go was in the middle. She climbed up the hill and left the dispatching of the Empty to the other goblins. A glance at the strings showed that every time they had to raise themselves, the line between them and the altar grew a little weaker. She assumed when it got weak enough it would snap.

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  She scuttled up until she was at the altar. It was a strange one. It looked like a woman, but she had too many faces. Each one looking in a different direction until the covered all of them. Ratface had heard of her. This was the many-faced god of the elves.

  It was littered with those lines. There were so many that she could barely see the shrine through them. She reached out to grab it.

  The world went dark around her. She felt untethered. The feeling of the world around her falling away without sight and sound. She wasn’t sure if the ground was still beneath her or if she was just standing because she thought she should.

  A hiss was the first thing that let her know she wasn’t alone. It filled the air around her as she watched.

  “What is this?” a voice asked. It echoed around her. No. Different voices, all asking the same thing. Ratface looked for whatever was making the noise and found nothing. She didn’t answer the voices, and they grew irritated.

  “Not mine, but you can see, yes you can. Let’s see what else you can see.”

  The dark in front of her changed. She could see the adventurers fighting. A fireball flew towards her and smashed into her. The image switched to something else, an adventurer holding their sword in place as they were being pushed down. Their face looked terrified.

  Ratface gasped. She was seeing the perspective of the Empty. It spread out until she could see it all.

  “You’re the Emptiness. You’re what Halvin prayed to,” said Ratface. She winced as she felt the attention return to her.

  “You know my champion?” it asked.

  “You should let him rest.”

  “Insolence,” said the voices. The world around her filled with hissing until it was all she could hear. A pressure built around her and then slid away.

  “Can’t touch it,” the voices whispered to each other. While they talked amongst themselves, the images kept changing until it flickered onto a picture of Abigail standing in front of the adventurers. Ratface’s heart quickened at the sight. The old woman was holding a spot as she pulled adventurers back into line.

  “Wait,” said one of the voices. The rest went quiet as the remaining images flickered away until only Abigail was there.

  “Can’t touch it,” said one voice.

  “But can hurt it,” said another.

  “Shouldn’t,” whispered one. It was so hard to hear over the others.

  “But will,” said the rest. The hissing grew louder as they drowned out the one that advocated for Ratface.

  The one that had first noticed Ratface came up behind her and leant on her shoulder. There was no physical weight, yet Ratface felt something pushing down on her.

  “Your champion, yes? I have one too. Let’s see who rests.”

  Ratface’s eyes locked onto Abigail, who looked at something approaching her. A new noise joined the hissing. A faint clinking as Halvin moved to act on his master’s will.