[Chialpuncritis]: What is it, Terry? What did we create?

  Terry didn’t respond immediately, turning his attention to his Affixations. His D-slots were taken up by Master of Light, his portal skill, and Manipulate Roots, so he prepared to drop that in favor of his new Skill.

  Chippy squeaked as Terry’s aura began to shift the new D-ranked Skill into place.

  

  [Chialpuncritis]: Terry! My pores are leaking! Tell Chippy!

  He laughed at that, even as the itch of the Affixation chafed at his aura. With a thought, he projected the Skill description in the Team Chat.

  Ben eyed him with a pinched brow, his eyes roving over Terry, but really studying the change in his aura.

  As he started to explain to Ben, the Team Chat notifications filled his vision.

  

  [Py Dar]: What is that? Why did you share this Skill description?

  

  [Chippy]: We made it, Py! From scratch! Okay…not from scratch, but Terry combined two Skills and a NEW one was formed!

  

  [Al’Ruzan, third of his name]: That’s not possible.

  He ignored the continuing conversation, turning toward Ben.

  “What am I seeing, kid?”

  Terry felt his aura begin to slow, the new Affixation settling into place. He held up a finger, waiting for it to slot into…

  “Ah, there it is.” He smiled, taking in the crowd that had formed around him. “Let’s see what this can do.”

  As he activated the Skill, it felt both the same and different from Metal Telekinesis. With the Skill he’d learned from Silver, he could feel the metal, intuitively understand that it would react to his aura and move via his will. But he couldn’t really sense hidden metal or pinpoint every piece of metal in a room. There was a need to target the object, be aware of its existence in some strange way.

  Master of Telekinesis was overwhelming in comparison. The moment he activated it, everything in sight seemed to pull on his attention—a sort of aura current that called to him, broadcast its ability to be moved. More than that, he could feel a sense of weight—no, not weight exactly. As he shifted his aura, he began to recognize that sensation as more of a gauge for how far, fast, and agile he could move the object. It was like a series of readout dials written in the flow of aura.

  And it was drowning him in sensory feedback.

  “Whoa,” he gasped. With a subtle flex, he isolated a fist-sized rock and lifted it to head height. His sense of the rock was that he could launch it fast—fast enough to do serious damage to a non-Awakened. He split his focus, reaching for another rock.

  Immediately, the sensory overload quadrupled. Everything in sight shifted, the telemetry data of the aura reacting to his split focus. The rock in his control—and everything else—lost a bit of potential.

  There was so much shifting information assailing his senses, he felt like he was looking at a hundred dials each telling him some different datum. If he tried to take it all in at once, he thought he’d go mad.

  With a thought, he dropped the rock and reached out to something more nebulous. Juan had been carefully cupping his ball of flame like a newborn, so when Terry reached for it, the man let out a little gasp as he felt it pulled from his grip.

  “Hey…” he complained.

  Terry couldn’t help but smile; his aura held the flame as naturally as his Metal Telekinesis worked his silver needles. He shot Juan an apologetic look as he continued to move the fire, stretching it thin, then contracting it into a ball once more.

  There was something different about shifting the flame that felt off from the rock or his metal bracelet—some element or quality that was constantly changing, making his control feel tenuous.

  As he passed the ball of fire back to Juan, he couldn’t help but feel that it was just a bit diminished from before. Judging from the way it flared back into brilliant brightness upon Juan’s touch, he gathered he had been right; just controlling the flame wasn’t enough, Juan had some other Skill stoking the fire.

  He opened his mouth to ask about the Skill—maybe he could catalog it really quick—when a ripple of aura passed among the ghouls.

  Ben felt it too and turned to see Crimson Spear in a ready stance, his namesake weapon held loosely in two hands. Terry strained to see what had set off the ghouls when the wave hit him.

  The temperature in the cave dipped twenty degrees in a flash; frost began to coat the ground; Juan gasped like his breath had been stolen and Chippy squeaked piteously.

  The visions came a moment later. A beast struggling hopelessly against the predators that had pulled it down. Ice carried on the wind, stabbing into his face, his mouth, his eyes.

  And then he saw Flore’s eviscerated body, Vlad bleeding out on the cavern floor…his father stomping on Siren’s neck.

  He recognized what was happening, forced himself to acknowledge that all those things were true, then shoved them away with both a mental push and a flash of aura.

  When his vision cleared, his blood ran cold.

  Seven draugrs unlike any he had seen before were arrayed before Crimson Spear in a V-formation. Cloth covered their heads and bodies, giving them a hooded look. The edges of their silhouettes frayed reality, defying his attempts to study their appearance. No hands or limbs were visible, but he knew from experience that they were superhumanly strong.

  But their real power was the crushing hopelessness they infected their environment with. An overpowering sense that nothing and no one could stand before them.

  It didn’t feel like seven Wichitan draugrs stood before him. The combined effect of their auras were like that of two dozen draugrs.

  With an involuntary shake of his head, he suppressed the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. At his side, he saw Ben gritting his teeth, an obvious struggle in the flick of his eyes.

  Terry reached out and gripped Ben’s arm. The older man flinched, his gaze cutting toward that grip, then up to Terry’s face. His eyes were lost for another moment, then seemed to clear as he realized who had grabbed him.

  Ben closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath before opening them again. When they did, the normal blue of his irises was replaced with an ice-grey, the magic swirling like a storm.

  The temperature shifted once more, the cold receding with powerful shoves of Ben’s aura.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  On a whim, Terry took an aura snapshot before turning his attention back to the draugrs.

  He suddenly felt the weight of their regard, like jumping into the lion’s den with a haunch of bloody meat in his hands.

  At his side, Juan whimpered quietly, while Chippy squeezed his eyes shut tight. Terry tried to speak, but the air was so cold, so dry, that his voice croaked.

  Forming some saliva to swallow, he tried again.

  “The visions aren’t real, Juan.” The man flinched at the sound of his voice and Terry reached out to grip his arm. “It’s not real—”

  The flames in Juan’s hands flared bright, the heat washing against Terry’s skin. He took a step back, worried the man would lash out on instinct.

  “Leave them,” Ben said behind him. “If it’s a fight, it’ll happen before we can rouse them.”

  Terry flicked his eyes toward the draugrs, noting that they were pressing forward, approaching Crimson Spear and a knot of huddled ghouls. Then he looked toward the others, noting Al’Ruzan’s eyes wide with undirected fury, Mara-Lin-Jaid clutching her hands together in some sort of prayer, and Py Dar with her head buried in her four hands.

  A sudden sense of deja vu infected him, bringing him back to that moment when he’d first faced the draugr at the gates of Wichita. He’d been so scared, so terrified he wanted to turn and run away faster than he’d ever run. The thing that had stopped him, the thing that had spurred him on so recklessly, was his ghoul entourage being thrown about, killed by the draugr in their efforts to save him.

  That deja vu enraged him, lit a fire inside his chest that burned hotter than the flames cupped in Juan’s hands, burned brighter than the sun itself.

  He didn’t even think as he acted. A portal ripped open across the air high above them. Brilliant white light streamed through, illuminating the cave.

  Another portal cut across space. Then another.

  Six portals opened in as many seconds, flaring so bright in the cave that the others were forced to shield their eyes.

  Terry strode forward, the sunlight buoying his steps, making him feel light as air.

  In the harsh light, the draugrs were no longer the stuff of nightmares. The strange fraying of reality at the edges of their silhouettes seemed to fade in the light. The oppressive weight pushing down on everyone’s shoulders lessened. The sapping energy of the supernatural cold drifted away.

  By the time Terry reached Crimson Spear’s side, the seven draugrs standing before them were no more intimidating than the dire wolves Al’Ruzan had been hunting for years.

  Crimson Spear cast him a surprised look as he joined the ghoul leader, but the flash of aura a moment later was filled with respect.

  Ben stood on his other side and Terry could tell he was helping to keep the cold at bay.

  A moment later, Al’Ruzan joined them, then Juan, Py, and Mara-Lin-Jaid. A quiet squeak brought his attention down, where Chippy was standing at his knee level with an adorable rodent-like scowl.

  The draugrs had lost the element of terror that was their greatest weapon, but they were still physically powerful creatures of the Underworld; they showed no apprehension or concern with the Awakened standing before them, nor the dozens of ghouls who were shaking free from their stupor.

  An icy voice cut through the air, sending a shiver down Terry’s spine.

  “You approach…our terr…itory.”

  Despite the brave stances of Terry and his team, he could feel their hackles rise at that voice. It was closer to the haunting whistle of the wind than actual words.

  But Crimson Spear didn’t falter.

  “We are on a holy mission.” Terry squinted, wondering if he’d translated that word, holy, correctly. “For the survival of all denizens of the Underworld, you must let us pass.”

  His eyebrows rose and he looked up to try and read the ghoul’s expression. But that slick red skin betrayed none of his thoughts.

  “Ex…plain…”

  Terry double-took between Crimson Spear and the lead draugr, not quite believing the exchange.

  Then, Crimson Spear nodded toward Ben and Terry finally understood.

  “You sure?” Ben asked quietly.

  “Show…or fight,” Crimson Spear replied.

  Terry flipped his gaze back toward the draugrs to see if they’d react to that statement, but they were as stoic as statues.

  Ben furrowed his nose for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. Reaching toward his belt, he undid the tie and held up the Singularity cube.

  “Ben…” Terry hissed. “The sanguine will know we’re coming.”

  He turned toward Terry, his eyes still swirling with blue-grey magic.

  “You’re right.” His voice was solid ice. “Let them know. Let the bastards tremble in their hives. Let them squirm and plot and despair.” He reached his other hand up, undoing the cube. The Singularity’s power leaked through. “The entire Underworld will rally behind us and those vampire pests will feel the inexorability of the Bloodsplatter Clan’s return.”

  Brilliant power rushed from his hand, filling the air with possibilities. It was as if a key had slotted into an invisible hole, laying bare the secrets of the universe. Terry’s power suddenly felt unstifled, ready to do anything with but a flicker of intent.

  It seemed to call to him, whispering in his mind. He strained to hear the words, understand the divine message imparted by an unknowable power.

  Then, it was gone, and he wanted to cry.

  He snapped into awareness, spotted the cube tucked back onto Ben’s waist. A sudden urge to reach for the cube disappeared as soon as it came—it was too much power for him to control, let alone contain.

  As for the draugrs, Terry could feel their emotions shift—ponderously, like a glacier shifting off a piece of ice back into the ocean. But he could taste its flavor and knew that violence had been averted.

  “We…accept…”

  Before Terry could understand the implications of those words, the draugrs seemed to fuzz in his vision. For the briefest moment, he wondered if he had read the situation wrong and they were about to attack. Then, the subtle fraying at the edges of their silhouettes doubled, and they began to sink into the solid stone.

  His eyes widened as the seven draugrs slowly disappeared from view, completely phased into the rock beneath their feet.

  Terry stared at where they’d been a moment earlier, then glanced up toward Ben.

  “I…I didn’t know they could do that.”

  He nodded, taking in a deep breath before letting it out.

  “They’re terrifying bastards, that’s for sure. But the die has been cast and they’ve chosen their side.”

  “What the hell was that!” Juan blurted behind him. “What was that thing in the box!”

  Terry saw the confusion in the rest of the team’s eyes and repeated Juan’s question in the Team Chat as he responded out loud.

  “That’s one of the Singularities—the Metaphysical one, to be precise.”

  Judging from Juan’s furrowed brow, he hadn’t heard of them.

  

  [Chialpuncritis]: Chippy knows this thing. But it shouldn’t be here.

  

  [Terry]: How do you know what this is? As far as I know, all seven—well, six—are on Earth.

  

  [Chialpuncritis]: Impossible, Terry. Kapilidonis the Wise has assembled the seven Truths, becoming the Autarch of my world.

  Terry furrowed his brow at that.

  

  [Al’Ruzan, third of his name]: It is the same on my planet, though we do not call it that.

  

  [Py Dar]: This is why our worlds fight. Our own leader has ascended after gathering the seven Divinities. We did not know of Al’Ruzan’s people until after the Holy Vessel was formed.

  He was floored by the revelation that each of his team members had their own form of the Singularities—and had actually formed their version of the Omega.

  How? Why?

  

  [Mara-Lin-Jaid]: The question is, why do you have one, Terry?

  His mind was trying to make the connections, draw the dots between what he knew and what he had just learned. But he didn’t have enough information.

  When I see my damn System again, it better have some answers…

  The insistent look from Mara-Lin-Jaid and the others pulled him back to the present.

  Before he could craft a reply, Crimson Spear sent out the call to move and Ben spurred them onward. Reluctantly, they all started jogging again, following the ghouls’ lead as they left the cavern.

  As they ran, he wrote out the message.

  

  [Terry]: I was given a Quest—

  Error. Message cannot be sent.

  He groaned in annoyance.

  

  [Terry]: I can’t really say…that should tell you something.

  He couldn’t read their reactions as they ran through the dark tunnel leading from the cavern, but Mara-Lin-Jaid’s response seemed to echo the sentiment of the others.

  

  [Mara-Lin-Jaid]: We understand.

  A sense of relief filled him. For a moment, he had worried they might try to force the issue or hold it against him that he was being coy. He released the portals back in the cavern and summoned a new one, letting sunlight stream into the tunnel.

  With the light, he was able to see their faces for a brief moment before they ran past it.

  Juan flashed him a thumbs up. Al’Ruzan nodded once. Chippy squeaked quietly in his arms. Py Dar made some complicated series of hand gestures with her four arms that he nonetheless took as a positive message.

  He felt emboldened by their understanding and crafted another message.

  

  [Terry]: I don’t know why, but the six of us have a shared Quest to help the Bloodsplatter Clan return to their home. And our optional Quest references the Lakarot.

  For some reason, my System—and yours, too—has offered us a reward to return the Lakarot—the Singularity—to power.

  Hesitation gripped him and he faltered for a moment. Chippy squeaked in his arms, a sound of encouragement, he imagined.

  

  [Terry]: I don’t know about the rest of you, but I trust my System. As much of a pain in the ass it is, I trust the damned thing. I intend to complete that optional Quest. Will you help me?

  They ran in silence for a few moments and he wondered if he had read the situation wrong. Maybe they couldn’t care less about him or the Singularity. Maybe they just wanted to get home and the optional Quest was just a—

  

  [Al’Ruzan, third of his name]: We stand with you, Terry.

  For some reason, those words from Al’Ruzan of all people, filled him with a sense of pride.

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