Chapter Forty-Five

  “Sometimes, the wrong choice is the only one left, not to win—but to delay the loss for just one more breath." – Elric’Ryn.

  Level Five

  The Northern Tribes

  Emy

  Emy and Sansa stood at the edge of the Eastern province of the Fire encampment, awaiting the arrival of the others from the remaining three camps. The field before them resembled a natural amphitheater—its center darkened as though scorched, encircled by lush greenery and rolling hills that framed the setting like a forgotten relic of nature. Emy frowned, her gaze shifting over the expanse. “Wait, what is this place?” she asked, her voice uncertain.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Sansa replied cryptically, her tone firm but calm.

  From each direction, three pairs of figures emerged over the crests of the surrounding hills. Familiar with the natural layout of the tribes, Emy began to piece together their identities. To the north came two stocky men clad in rough, grass-like pelts that hinted at their Earth tribe origins. From the south strode a lanky man and a woman, their sleek garments glistening with a sheen reminiscent of water, a reflection of the Water Tribe’s affinity. Finally, to the east, a pair with chaotic, untamed hair and minimal clothing approached, their snickering demeanor a hallmark of the Air tribe.

  As the last group assembled, Sansa stepped forward, commanding the gathered factions with an air of authority. “Regardless of what is happening tonight, we must remain composed in the now. This mission is pivotal for securing our reign over the Northern wayside. You’ve all felt it—Vrax’s hunger grows, and this is our only chance to keep it contained. Are we clear?”

  The response came in reluctant nods and muted sneers, but unity prevailed. Sansa glanced at Emy for reassurance, but before she could speak, another voice sliced through the tension.

  “No. It is not clear.” The words rang out, sharp and resolute, as Alberth and his subordinate, Calid, emerged from the shadows behind them.

  “The mountain demands more; that much is clear,” Alberth began, his tone even yet confrontational. “What’s unclear is why we’re entrusting the chief’s daughter to claim the prize. Unless the tribes have objections to two additional participants, I say we proceed.”

  Sansa narrowed her eyes at Alberth, her smirk betraying her irritation. “What’s the play here, Alberth? You couldn’t wait until tonight for action?”

  “And ruin the fun of commandeering early?” Alberth chuckled bitterly before continuing, “No. I just want to ensure everything goes according to plan.”

  Without further discussion, Alberth and Calid moved past the group, taking the lead with an air of self-assured dominance. The rest of the tribes followed begrudgingly.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Sansa called out, now smirking. “We have a faster path.”

  With deliberate precision, Sansa signaled Emy, who reached into the void with expert precision, summoning the Quantum Gateway that rippled and expanded before them. The swirling black vortex hummed ominously, its unnatural pull drawing hesitant glances from the tribes.

  “Unless you’re afraid?” Sansa challenged, her words sharp enough to cut.

  Alberth flinched, caught off guard by the sheer audacity of the gateway. “You think I’m foolish enough to step into a rogue void?” he spat.

  “Fine. Suit yourself. The path closes thirty seconds after Fury steps through,” Sansa said with calm determination before stepping into the void, her focus inward as she braced herself against the unsettling sensation of the passage, ready to mentally take in everything that she could.

  Emy motioned for the tribes to follow. One by one, they hesitated, then surrendered to the thrill of the unknown, disappearing into the void’s depths. Before vanishing herself, Emy shot Alberth a playful wink, leaving him standing on the empty field with only his pride.

  ***

  The transition through the void was instantaneous, though disorienting. Emy emerged into familiar terrain just north of Zar’Keth village, the divide now firmly behind them. The air carried a crispness that was somehow unchanged, despite the journey and the distance from the taint. The tribes stood in silence, the awe of the experience etched into their expressions. Sansa, however, seemed more affected—her face a mask of internal conflict as she wrestled with the weight of the encounter.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Don’t worry. You can always do it again,” Emy teased lightly.

  “You told me time doesn’t change within the void… but I swear I felt seconds stretching endlessly. It was as though something held me there,” Sansa said, her voice tinged with wonder and disbelief.

  “Oh… I might’ve pulled a favor with an old friend,” Emy replied slyly, her smirk widening as a wet, guttural cough interrupted her words.

  Alberth and Calid stumbled out of the void, their faces pale and contorted in discomfort. They clutched their knees, heaving violently onto the grass beneath them.

  “They say the first time’s the hardest for the uninitiated,” Emy quipped, her tone sharp with amusement.

  Alberth straightened up as best he could, his pride bruised but his determination intact. His glare swept over the group, energy flaring as anger burned behind his eyes.

  “Come now, Alberth,” Sansa said casually. “As you mentioned, we have a critical mission to complete—and no room for errors.”

  As Alberth’s glower lingered on the assembled party, Sansa turned to Emy with a fleeting glance. Leaning in with a voice low enough for only Emy to catch, she murmured, “Another favor?”

  Emy’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, her silence speaking volumes.

  The rest of the journey unfolded in heavy silence, the weight of the encounter hanging over the crew like an unspoken burden. Sansa and Emy bore the brunt of the tension, their thoughts consumed by the gravity of what lay ahead. Emy reflected on her decision to join Sansa, acknowledging the difficulty but reaffirming her resolve. Sansa’s training and words confirmed in her mind—that disaster had to be prevented, and her presence was crucial.

  As they approached the village, the gates stood ajar, a stark contrast to their previous arrival. Entering cautiously, Emy felt the presence of her friends—familiar yet elusive, their energies lingering like shadows. None were visible, yet their essence was undeniable.

  < One-Way connection Established – James – Outbound communication now available >

  “Stand the team down, James. This is not our fight. I’ve felt Rose lurking. Influence this exchange and consider this our last communication.”

  < One-Way connection with James has been severed >

  “Emy, it seems like James isn’t taking no for an answer. I’m getting repetitive connection demands,” Nex alerted, their voice tinged with concern.

  Emy’s response was measured, though a pang of regret flickered in her heart. “Keep them blocked, Nex. This can’t happen now.”

  Taking a moment to steady herself, Emy focused on the erratic energy signatures of her friends. Tuck’s presence surged wildly, while Frank’s energy felt strangely volatile. Yet neither made a move as the Northern crew passed under the gate, their steps leading them to the heart of the Guardians’ hold.

  A single figure stood waiting in the center of the courtyard, his presence commanding and unyielding.

  “Father,” Sansa said, her voice dry and uneasy—a tone almost foreign to her usual demeanor. “Do I need to ask if you have what we demanded?”

  Elric’s expression betrayed an internal struggle, his words carefully measured. “Sansa. Yes. I think I speak for both of us when I say we hope your demand satiates the hunger.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” A new voice cut through the air, irritated and sharp. Alberth stepped forward, his presence triggering another figure to emerge from the crowd. Steel moved with quiet composure, positioning himself slightly behind Elric as Sansa shot a wary glance toward Alberth.

  Elric ignored Alberth entirely, his focus on Sansa. Steel’s piercing gaze, however, locked onto Alberth, his intensity palpable. Elric spoke again, his tone calm but foreboding. “Then we should all worry about the future of our realm.”

  Without further explanation, Elric gestured toward the Smithy, where a figure darted off. The four remained locked in position, their silence heavy as they awaited the arrival of the goods.

  Within moments, two large carts full of weapons and armor were wheeled forward, followed by a third. Its contents—a single, massive item—radiated a dull blue light. The energy emanating from the rock was overwhelming, its presence almost tangible. Emy’s attention shifted to the figure pushing the cart—Frank.

  Frank’s eyes betrayed his emotions as he glanced toward Emy, then back at the rock. Anger. Frustration. Uncontrolled energy. His fury wasn’t directed at Emy but at the rock itself. Alberth, sensing the tension, approached Frank’s towering form with calculated steps.

  “Well, what do we have here?” Alberth’s voice dripped with mockery, his energy circling ominously. His gaze lingered on the cart, but Emy knew his true intention as she edged closer to the unfolding confrontation.

  “You don’t happen to like this, do you, boy?” Alberth’s words were almost taunting, his lanky frame dwarfed by Frank’s imposing presence. Ignoring the disparity, Alberth placed his hand on the rock, its energy resisting his touch. Frank’s rage ignited, his fury building to a breaking point.

  “Ah, there it is,” Alberth said, his energy pushing into Frank, who trembled with fury. “I bet you’d like to hit me, wouldn’t you?”

  WHAM! Chaos erupted in an instant. Emy stood directly behind Alberth, her movements quick and deliberate. But all eyes were drawn to the sudden clash of forces as Sansa’s arm shot forward, her hand locking firmly around Alberth’s neck. Waves of nullifying energy radiated from her grasp, a force that seemed to suppress the tension teetering on the edge of an explosive release.

  Steel and Frank froze, their bodies coiled and ready to strike yet restrained by the gravity of Sansa’s presence. Her energy acted like a dam, holding back the rising storm of violence, though it couldn't prevent a dark tempest from quickly surrounding the village.

  Sansa’s voice was firm but faltering, her internal battle evident in her strained tone. “I believe this is where we take our leave.”

  With a second swift motion, Sansa flung Alberth backward, his sickly smile lingering as he clutched his bruised neck, slowly gathering himself off the ground. Emy moved swiftly, positioning herself between him and Sansa, her stance unwavering—a shield against Alberth’s simmering malice. Sansa’s breaths were uneven, her energy flickering as she wrestled to regain control, the storm within her threatening to overwhelm.

  “Move!” Sansa commanded, her glare cutting through the group. The tribes scrambled to secure the carts, their shock palpable as they rushed to comply. Within moments, the Northerners were outside the gates, their carts in tow, heading back toward the Great Divide.

  “You shouldn’t have done that…” Alberth’s voice echoed ominously from the shadows, each word dripping with malice, his tone hinting that this had been part of his design all along. Emy kept her focus on Sansa, whose pale face and erratic energy betrayed the strain of the encounter. Despite the turmoil, Sansa held firm, though her presence flickered like a dying flame.

  Alberth’s voice pierced the silence once more, his words deliberate and laced with mockery. “I pray for your strength in Quadrant tonight…”