[First Era – Year 7 of the Divinity War; Phial, dark side of the world]

  The oppressive darkness of Barthum’s domain pressed in on Moraithe like a physical weight. He had been sent to one of the worlds the Severed had occupied. There on the dark side of the tidally locked planet of Phial, they called it daytime whenever the moon shone. Barthum forbid them to make fire or any kind of light—an element that the Severed did not need, for they saw the world in a way that was foreign to Moraithe.

  They did not perceive objects in the same way as others, nor did they rely on the shapes of things. Instead, they recognized everything by history—the traces of time, the imprints left by countless past events. And people, they knew not by their faces, but by their aura—that ethereal essence that carried the marks of each soul’s power.

  Moraithe also sensed auras, though they were not as vivid to him as they were to the Severed. In this land of perpetual darkness, objects became a vague, shifting mass, and the faces of others blurred into shadows. It was a realm where his natural abilities were dulled, and where the need to rely on caution, patience, and careful observation grew ever more critical.

  Strange shapes crept in the shadows, creatures of darkness.

  Yet, for all of Barthum’s immense power, he had one great weakness, which Moraithe and Norgoth had discovered. Barthum, for all his mastery over darkness, could not read their thoughts.

  It was Elithir who taught this power to them, showing them how to project their thoughts telepathically. At first, it had been a difficult skill to master, but with practice, they had become proficient. The technique still wasn’t easy, it required immense concentration, but it allowed them to communicate without being overheard. And, most importantly, it kept Barthum in the dark about their true intentions.

  Norgoth leaned against a wall beside him, pretending to sleep as he projected his thoughts telepathically. “This is useless. Barthum keeps his council so close to the vest that we can’t learn a thing before it happens.”

  Moraithe’s own thoughts buzzed in his mind, a swirl of frustration and weariness as he sent his message to Norgoth. “It’s like investigating a brick wall. We’ve been at this for how long now, and what do we know? Barthum taught them to make entropy crystals and established a whole factory for them. And us? We're still groping in the dark. Every move we make is a gamble, and Elithir keeps pulling us back just when we think we have something.”

  “If only Barthum had never invented those blasted entropy crystals.”

  Moraithe thought of those crystals with the power to store entropy—the waste product but also the limitation of any entanglement. Without that limitation, unimaginable entanglements could be performed. “Of course, if he hadn’t he never would have entangled himself with the darkness. Everything would be different.”

  Norgoth’s mental voice shot back, sharp and dry, like a cutting wind. “I’ve seen them in action, Moraithe. The crystals. I watched whole battalions of our allies wiped out by one of Barthum’s foot soldiers. Just like that. One blast. Gone. There's no counter to it. The battlefields turned into ash. I didn’t even have time to register the devastation before it was over.”

  Moraithe’s mind hummed with the weight of the words. He clenched his jaw, knowing all too well the horrors Norgoth had witnessed. He could feel the tension, the unbearable pull of despair. He could almost hear Norgoth’s breath in his own skull. “With Elithir out of commission, we can’t even fight back. At least we have entropy crystals of our own, or the war would be over without a contest. You're right to be frustrated. I’m sure I’d be losing my mind by now if I were you.”

  “Me?”

  “If I’d had to see the battlefield I would have been forced to entangle my tear ducts with ice just to keep from weeping. I would have given us away.”

  Norgoth scoffed mentally. “But you’ve been far more effective, working this underground thing for weeks, building up your little network, while I’ve been watching the slaughter. We’re up against a monster, Moraithe. No one’s talking about winning anymore. The conversation is how we survive it. I don’t even know where to start on that front.”

  Moraithe’s thoughts churned. He could feel the bitterness in Norgoth’s tone, a bitterness born from the battlefield, from the blood spilled and the hollow feeling of helplessness. He wasn’t wrong.

  Elithir had been the one to teach them telepathy so they could communicate right under Barthum’s nose.

  Norgoth pretended to snore. “When Elithir taught us telepathy, I thought it would just give us a chance to communicate right under Barthum’s nose. I would have never been bold enough to do what you did.”

  “It was nerve-wracking the first time I reached out to a Severed, projecting my thoughts to them. But how else are we supposed to learn anything? Teaching the Severed telepathy, creating an underground network, it mostly just gave the Severed a chance to vent. But it’s turning into something more. They are looking for a way to get out from under Barthum’s thumb.”

  “I’m sure they resent being enslaved by Barthum just as they had been by Throm’tor. It's the thing they’ve been fighting to avoid all this time.”

  Moraithe stretched his neck. “It’s not much—just a few individuals scattered across the Severed. They’re not truly allies, but we have a common enemy. Still, it’s a dangerous game. Some of the Severed have submitted to him. It’s impossible to know who to trust. But we can’t just lie low and wait for Barthum to destroy everything.”

  There was a quiet laugh in the back of Norgoth’s thoughts, dry, edged with something much darker.“Oh, I know you’re not the type to lie low. You’re practically vibrating with the urge to do something. But we’re up against an army of monsters with weapons we can’t even fathom.”

  “That’s why I need your help with this.” Moraithe’s thoughts flashed to the countless hours spent observing, listening, waiting for the right moment to make contact. He could feel the weight of every decision, the push and pull of trusting Elithir’s guidance. But there was always that constant pressure—the fear of making a wrong move, the looming terror of betrayal.

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  “I’ve been careful, Norgoth. Every time we make a move, Elithir guides us, warns us of the traps. And yeah, it’s stressful, but we’re building something here. Yet I can’t do it alone.”

  A long pause. Norgoth’s mind seemed to be wrestling with the weight of it all, the burden of being in enemy territory and barely scraping by. “What about Barthum's entropy crystals? You want me to abandon that?”

  “No, we need to find his vault, but in another way. I’m sure this is how we’ll do it. Elithir burns in my bones with that truth.” Moraithe’s thoughts ran over the image of entire armies falling before a single crystal. The helplessness, the rage, the gnawing frustration of not having a way to counter the destruction. “Every moment counts. The Severed may be winning, but we’re still in this fight. And we’re not alone, Norgoth. We’re not the only ones who want out of this.”

  Norgoth’s response was less immediate this time, more thoughtful. “You really think we can win this? I mean, look at what we’re up against. Barthum’s got his hand on every piece of this game. Every piece but ours.”

  Moraithe, however, was becoming increasingly frustrated. Every day, he pushed himself deeper into the enemy’s ranks, trying to find that crucial piece of information that could help turn the tide. “Exactly. And that’s where we have to act. We take the pieces he doesn’t see coming. We trust Elithir, we build the resistance, and we find a way to take those crystals out of his hands and flood this universe with light. Take away his power. This isn’t just about surviving, Norgoth. It’s about breaking his hold. That’s the only way we’re getting out of this.”

  There was a silence between them—just the hum of thoughts connecting and disconnecting across the vast, dark expanse. Finally, Norgoth’s thoughts came again, quieter this time, more resigned. “Alright. I’ll trust you. But, Moraithe, we can’t do this alone. We need more people. We need more trust. And we need to stop standing still.”

  Moraithe felt the quiet weight of his friend’s words settle into his chest. “I’m making another contact today. He might be the one. I think he’s connected to the entropy crystals.”

  There was no true night or day in that place where the light was so dim. But that night Moraithe observed his Severed mark—a disgruntled officer who seemed to resent Barthum’s iron grip. He was certain the officer knew the location of Barthum’s secret vault. And he certainly fit the criteria for his underground network.

  As Moraithe approached the officer—he felt the familiar prickle at the back of his mind. Elithir’s presence surged within him, filling him with a sudden warmth, but also a cold, sharp edge of caution. Moraithe’s gaze locked on the Severed officer as he moved through the shadows, and just as he was about to make contact, the sickening sensation bloomed within his chest—a warning.

  Elithir’s voice was clear and firm in his mind. “Do not reach out to him. Trust me, Moraithe. He is a trap.”

  Moraithe froze, heart pounding. The officer moved through the darkness, oblivious to his scrutiny. “Not again,” Moraithe whispered to himself. “Not another close call.”

  It had happened three times now, and each time, he obeyed. Though he had no concrete proof that his would-be contacts would have betrayed him, Moraithe trusted Elithir’s judgment. So far, they had remained undetected. But the constant feeling of helplessness gnawed at him.

  Reluctantly, he pulled back, his pulse quickening as the tension in his body slowly began to subside. It had been too close—again. He had no idea why this soldier might have been a trap, only that Elithir had seen something he could not. For all his doubts, Moraithe couldn’t risk questioning Elithir’s warnings. After all, his foresight had kept them safe thus far. But there was a heavy weight in Moraithe’s chest, a frustration he couldn’t shake.

  Elithir’s warmth burned within him, an assurance that despite this setback he would soon find what he sought.

  The next day, if the dim light could be called that, as Moraithe went about his duties, it happened. A Severed worker—an underling, seemingly nothing more than a menial laborer—approached him, pretending to engage in her usual chores. The Severed looked around, ensuring no one else was near, and then projected a thought directly into Moraithe’s mind.

  “I found something Barthum has been hiding.”

  The thought was hurried, her face masked with just the right amount of subtlety to avoid detection.

  Moraithe’s heart raced. This was it. The piece of the puzzle he had been searching for.

  The Severed worker continued, her thoughts cool and composed. “The vault. I know where Barthum keeps the entropy crystals. All of them. I can show you, but we need a pretense to walk those halls.”

  Moraithe’s mind reeled. This was huge. This was what they had been searching for. But before he could respond, another thought struck him—an instinctive caution, perhaps from Elithir, or perhaps just his own weary soul. There was something wrong here.

  “There is a clear spring beyond the place. I will spill my wash water on you so I can lead you past it.” The servant didn’t wait for acknowledgment before he felt himself soaked in filthy wash water.

  “Oh, sorry. Let me get you washed up. Here, follow me.”

  He followed the worker through the labyrinth of Barthum’s darkened halls. The passageways were cold, empty—every step echoed through the silence.

  “It is just up ahead, to the left. At the end of the dead end is a secret door leading to the vault.”

  He watched the spot from the corner of his eye as they walked by, memorizing its location.

  As he washed up, he considered how he would get access to that place.

  For days he worked to find someone with access to the secret door. It was only by sheer persistence and coincidence that he finally found a Severed sneaking out of the hidden door. He had no chance to research the trustworthiness of this servant. But he couldn’t let this opportunity pass.

  With trepidation, he reached out to this Severed and spoke into their mind. The Severed was surprised, but in a few minutes, he taught him how to speak back with his thoughts. Finally, he was able to ask.

  “What is beyond that secret door? Why is it hidden?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of Barthum’s entropy crystals.”

  “Of course. Is that where they are kept?”

  “Yes. Once they have been used they are stored here.”

  “The spent crystals?” A deep disappointment settled in Moraithe’s chest. This wasn’t what he had hoped for. What could he do with spent crystals? He could not flood the universe with light and cripple Barthum’s power. They were all used up.

  He thanked the servant and stepped back, turning to leave, when Elithir’s warmth flooded his mind, filling him with a sudden surety. “This is what you were seeking.”

  “These are spent crystals. How can you say that?” But Elithir only reassured him with that silent feeling.

  He had been searching for the vault for entropy crystals, and he had found one, but the wrong one. Elithir was no fool. Why did he act like he had found what he was looking for?

  Moraithe’s eyes narrowed. He would have to figure out what this discovery truly meant—there was a deeper mystery at work here. Perhaps it would lead him to Barthum’s true plans. But for now, he was left with only questions.

  Suddenly, the fragment of Elithir that he wore upon a chain at his neck began blazing with a brilliant light, banishing the shadows. Moraithe was momentarily blinded, as he blinked away the spots in his eyes.

  “Elithir, what are you doing? I’ll be caught!”

  “This is it. Burn every bridge. Do whatever it takes, but get into that room. Now!”

  Moraithe didn’t question. He ran down the hallway, not stopping for the secret door. He had only done this once before, but it had worked then, so it should work now. He entangled himself with the mithsyrium he’d left a runic key upon back in the Faint. He melded with the secret door, became part of it, and then fell through it. Shaking himself he released the entanglement and looked around the room.

  The spent entropy crystals were piled up haphazardly in the corner of the vault.

  “Quickly, you must set a runic key upon the entropy crystals. It is our only chance to save the universe. This is the most vital act in the entire plan. And you must be the one to do it, for with your gratitude only you are sure to survive.”

  Running to the corner of the room, he set the runic key deep within the pile of entropy crystals.

  “Now flee. Fear not for Norgoth, I have already instructed him to do the same.”

  Moraithe turned, opened a portal nearly at random, picking from the many worlds he had set runic keys upon, and leaped through it in confusion. His only criterion, he wanted somewhere with light. As the light enveloped him he was left blinking, wondering. What had he just done?

  But his aura felt stronger. He checked and realized he’d just passed twenty thousand self-assurance and entered the rank of general.