Drumming her fingers on the table as she bounced through all the possibilities in her head, Sammy glared balefully at the orb. “You’ve really made this difficult, haven’t you?”

  “Have I?” The orb seemed amused. “Or have I simply dispelled your quaint delusions of familiarity? Have I confused and deceived you, or have I taken the wool from over your eyes? We’re always so blind to the ones… closest to us.” Rich, mocking laughter.

  Sammy narrowed her eyes. That was some shot at Azure and Lovie, wasn’t it? Fucker. Focus, child. Now is not the time for distractions. Yeah. You’re right.

  It needed to be a card at some kind of intersection between The Magician and The Sun, so as to encapsulate both Dax and the orb. What are the keywords between them? Family. Guardianship. Independence… Authority? Power?

  It was doubtful that the inner entity stirred Dax’s urges without existing foundations. When Sammy first met her, she was kind of a disaster and a mess, but when she encountered authority, when she found a new order to come under, she embraced it wholeheartedly. Dax had jump-started all the connections they had in Caneboro and laid a foundation of fraternal behavior. She’d been a knight, lost her status due to upholding her own principles — arguably the core of a knight — and when the opportunity arose, she became a great crusader.

  It’s not just the entity within. She wants her own slice of influence for deeper reasons. Reasons I need to consider right now, to make this choice correctly. What was her pivotal moment?

  The epiphany rang her like a bell. She shot up onto her feet. “Oh. My. God.”

  The orb merely ‘gleamed’ at her, the voice offering nothing.

  Sammy walked over to the side of the table, drawing close to the cards in the center, where they lay under the gaudy, lewd platform. Accepting responsibility, order, family, bringing herself under discipline and control… it was when she was knighted again. Having the courage to walk down a path she’d been burned on before. Having the courage to let go. Things I should respect her more for; things she should respect herself more for.

  “It all fits,” Sammy muttered. Then, in gazing at the cards, she frowned. Something was off. She counted them. Counted them again. “Hey, what are you trying to pull here? They’re only seventy-seven.”

  The orb somehow shrugged. “It wasn’t me, dear. It’s your blind spot.”

  Frowning, Sammy began looking for the card. It wasn’t scattered anywhere on the table, and she saw no sign in the void beyond. She checked the many containers on the table, but all were empty. Under the tablecloth? Nothing. Sighing, she had to get down on her knees to check the last spaces: under the table.

  She crawled around underneath until: boom! There it was, a card stuck to the bottom, the back facing out with the identity obscured. It was right where the orb was. “It’s me, yet it’s right next to you?! Come on!”

  “If it's put you on your knees before me — where you truly belong — then perhaps I should have done it.”

  Sammy quickly grabbed the card and scrambled out from under the table, glaring murder at the orb from very close as she smoothed out her skirts. At least there was no dust. She flicked the card over with the rest without looking at it. “Scorch it something like the others. It’s pristine.”

  “Dear, Dear Incarnation, this has to be the card, no? Haven’t you already won? Figured it out?”

  “Scorch it.”

  “Uhhhgh…” With a sigh, the orb seemed to comply — Sammy didn’t look, still glaring at the orb. But there was a subtle noise at the table and a faint burnt smell. “You’re just showing off.”

  Sammy ignored the comment. She turned and telekinetically made the cards jumble up and shuffle before returning to the neat configuration in a circle. Once satisfied, she pulled the card that was her selection and moved it to sit at the table in front of her.

  In teasing tones, the orb asked, “So, what do you dare label me, sister?”

  “You are Ambition; you are the crown of authority, leadership, power, and responsibility. You’re the ephemeral bedrock, the structure and solid foundation of all order. Through you lies command and conquest; through you, many are made to bow. Reversed, you are an egotistical, childish tyrant. You have all the lusts of a king — in fact, far more. You are more.”

  She took the card and flipped it over horizontally. A bearded, mature man sat at an angular grayish throne decorated with four ram horns. He wore a gold, tapering inward crown and a red robe with armor peeking from under. He held in one hand an ankh, in the other a golden orb. Rocky mountains were in the distance and the sky was orange.

  “You are The Emperor.”

  The orb positively glowed. “Ha! Correct! What fun it is to be seen and acknowledged after so long! Ah — I’m indebted to tell you that you’re awarded with System Experience — whatever! Let’s just move on to the juicy stuff! Behold, a vision!”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  The glow of the orb grew blindingly bright and swallowed everything.

  ??············???···········??

  The Western Front. General Daxerris and the Horizon Walkers, the Templars of Tomorrow, were charged with winning it all — basically with winning the war as a whole when it came down to it, with Rockpile Carlisle and the Daughters fighting tooth and nail — with far less — to keep the rebellion going in the east. Only the looming, gigantic threat in the west kept it from being squashed.

  Samantha invariably charged them to lead her collective Pantheon to victory. That was the most critical voice in Dax’s head: her and her order. It made the rest into whispers. A good thing, as those other voices were that of ghosts. Useful at times, but always… harrowing.

  Yeah, well, we asked for it, didn’t we? Ya overgrown tart.

  Everything Zadkiel had initially, temporarily taken, the new alliance had retaken, and likely permanently. And then more. Under Dax and Linnore’s strategic genius (somewhat wedded to Zadkiel’s, though at times that was corrective), everything south of the mountains was lost to the north, with compounded casualties.

  Relative genius, anyway. A chip in our armor got damned exposed, didn’t it?

  A new army of the Dominion had been raised under the Heavenly Ordained Champion, Palthennius. They came to meet Samanthian forces in the field, obviously far better led than others before and resistant to tricks. Far rather, Dax had gotten tricked into engaging at the lake, where, unbeknownst to them, thousands of undead were raised from it to reinforce Dominion armies. How ancient of a trap was that waiting? She hadn’t foreseen it. But she should have trusted her gut. It had turned and turned about that battle.

  The costs in casualties had been high. Nonetheless, the combined prowess of many heroes won the day, if sadly not the head of Palthennius. A large portion of his forces and a great many powerful wizards had fled.

  Pisses off Bast more than anyone. He had the last chance after Zadkiel got humbled. Just ain’t anyone fast enough but ole Basty. Need to super-buff his dandy ass next time, go all-out. S’weird. He hates that Dominion guy almost as much as Zaddycakes.

  From the back of a Pegasus high and tucked in the mountains, Dax gazed out at the city of Rivermount where not only Palthennius and a bloated force awaited them, but by reports — though the Dominion had tried to keep it utterly secret — the Heaven Knight Hestrae Beth, too. The heroic reinforcement meant they wanted to hold the city instead of holding back at their greatest stronghold.

  The gleam of the giant, ridiculous statue was obvious, its gaze forever down the river. More undead under that city. But this time, we’re ready for it.

  Too many variables, too many whispers. Would Glae help? No. Why even ask? Would he change his mind? Seemingly impossible. What about Burnstire? Might help, might betray. Their key spy had been had, ruining believable intel. Probably should’ve used their best in Constance, but hindsight was 20/20, after all. Their army was even more massive than rumors — definitely enough to turn the tides. Who could’ve known they had some weird, ancient dark fae in their forests? But the assumption of kinship didn’t matter. They were capricious and might not even help in war.

  What about insiders in Rivermount? The Braintrust was having some big hoo-ha soon about it, super secret. It annoyed her that whatever it was hadn’t been involving her, but apparently, the majority weren’t. A Samanthian special — her and some mystery figure. She almost hoped it wasn’t someone she knew, because if it was, she’d chew them out.

  Rivermount. What a beauty. A real shame to turn these waters red. But we’ve done it before. We’ll do it again.

  ‘Eldenetha,’ a whisper in her head offered tauntingly. ‘Worshiped river spirits. We executed everyone, slitting their throats over the piers and tossing them in, to blaspheme their primitive ways. Boats treaded upon a surface of bloated bodies and the banks were forever stained red. The voices of their dead forever followed us forward, wailing, wailing, wailing…’

  Dax shivered and grimaced. More voices came, laying more atrocities at her feet. She tried to tune it out. Shouting back didn’t help. It made her sick quite often. Enough that she’d lost much of her appetite for food. Meat made her puke.

  A movement next to her caused her to turn her gaze, and there the most glorious of men was — a champion, a charmer, a gorgeous icon, an angel — her Canny. Mine. The sight of him made the ghosts in her head flee and scatter as her mind was totally occupied with him.

  He had his own Pegasus trundle up next to her. He reached a hand to touch her shoulder, his face painted with concern. “They’re bad today, eh, dollface? Too much planning, not enough action.”

  Dax smiled at him. “Maybe so.” She took his calloused hand and raised it to her cheek, closing her eyes to savor his touch and warmth there.

  “It’ll get better soon.” Canmore moved in closer to where the Pegasi were touching and put his free arm around her. Shortly, Dax fully fell into his arms. Simple words, a simple response, entirely false, yet perfect for her right then. Too much was complicated, and oh, how wonderful it was, how simple things were with them. To think, in the beginning, her nervousness and doubt around him had her running right up the walls and trying ineffectively to hide it. But he’d wiped it all away once she finally managed to say how she felt.

  “Do you remember… when I told you I was interested in you?”

  “Yeah. You had to spell it out in big, bold letters for a slow soldier.”

  Dax chuckled.

  Canmore continued, “I was hit by a wonderful battering ram. About knocked me out, and when I came to, I realized I was in Heaven.”

  “You laughed. And then I laughed and asked what was funny. Because I was bloody hysterical and my gut was turning in knots wondering what the hell you thought. Jerk.”

  Laughing, Canmore replied, “Go easy, now — I said I was slow! I told you the truth. I told you the Goddess made a dream come true.”

  “You did, aye.” Dax sighed at his chest, eyes still closed. “I love you, country boy.”

  “And I love you, country girl,” he replied, like rote.

  As long as I have him, I’m unbreakable. Do your worst, System. Do your worst, cosmos. I’ll meet you with steel, throw you back, and step right over you to our tomorrow. I will win this thing. For the right reasons… for once.

  Thanks for reading!

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