Jude listlessly stared out of the window, watching the barren, rocky slopes trickle away with a sigh. Tendrils of cold wind seeped in through the empty gap, sweeping his dirty, raven-coloured hair into a tangled mess. Well, it was already like that anyways.

  Two weeks had passed since he had agreed to this fool’s journey, and was given the largest sum of wealth he had ever known as a result. And he already thoroughly felt the taste of regret upon his dry tongue. Who knew fighting for his life would be more entertaining than sitting in a stuffy compartment for hours on end without stop? The Chrysalis Sect seemed happy about it. Probably more than overjoyed to get rid of some useless weight.

  Now all he could do was wait. And plan.

  He turned his attention away from the outside world, and back into his temporary home. A few other stragglers had also been duped into this, and one least of all his own age. That had caught him by surprise.

  That one in question was bleakly lost in the wonders of the ceiling, her wheat-coloured hair resting against the arm of the large man that was might have been her father. They looked nothing alike, however. He towered above the rest of them, thick muscular arms bulging the seams of a shirt that barely seemed capable of holding his imposing figure. Jude would have taken him for one of the brawny apes with no brains and all muscle, if it weren’t for a pair of glasses resting upon a thoughtful, kind countenance. His daughter, or whoever she was, looked as beautiful and as fragile as an intricately carved glasswork.

  With all the time on his hands, he had spent an admittedly long-time sneaking glances at all three of them, trying to piece together what he could. One had to do whatever he could to stop himself from dying of boredom. Guessing at their origins was a pastime he allowed himself to indulge in.

  Of course, that did not extend to conversation. The mood within the compartment was stifled with complete silence. No-one wanted to say a word, unless they had to, and that was fine with him. He preferred it this way.

  Jude had never been one for too many friends. Trying to talk with people rarely ended good for him, mainly because he wasn’t particularly good with words. That was exactly what stranded him in this predicament, after all.

  He looked over at the final person sitting across from him, fast asleep upon the uncomfortable leather seat. While the rest of them looked out of place amongst such an expedition, this man fit in like a glove. He was lean, and scrawny, smeared in scars, and had a perpetual frown resting on him even when fast asleep. Definitely a criminal.

  These were his temporary companions. All of them had some connection to the sect, and had for some reason decided to break the law of the Imperial Court and venture through the forbidden territories towards the mainland city of Zola.

  And they would all die if he didn’t come up with something soon.

  He had always tried to be careful. Common sense was needed to survive out in the Fringes. So, when the cult that he was on lukewarm relations with because of a few odd jobs in a desperate grab for money suddenly offered him a solution to all his problems, he could tell that there was something wrong going on.

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  Even the sect rarely did something as blatant as traversing through the Territories away from safe roads without some sort of long plan. So, while they took a break off next to one of the last freshwater preserves on their route, he had checked the barrels that they were transporting. And inside, he had found maybe enough grain to feed a child for a day wrapped against the edges. In the centre were rocks, giving the false impression that it was full. Then he had been caught by an unsuspecting guard, and he had to reveal his trump card to kill and dispose of the body before anyone noticed, but such a memory was hard to forget.

  He felt a little weight at remembering the young man’s face. It was the sect’s fault, but the poor guy hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Still, that had left him in the predicament he had been stewing over across the past few days. Once again, he gazed out at the decaying rocky tundra. Life still breathed in pockets, hiding in cracks stained in discoloured moss, and withered thistles tainted in plaque-coloured fungus. But the Spawn had replaced the vast amount of it. That was what made the Forbidden Territories so dangerous to explore. Swarms upon swarms existed, and even upon safe roads it was likely you would run into a fiend at best.

  They’d encountered a few of those, so far. But the cult’s Blessed had avoided all but one casualty. He had an idea of when that protection would suddenly cease.

  In the distance, a pillar of grey, like clouds descending onto the earth, formed a wall that extended as far as the eye could see. It churned, and twisted, a recipe for disaster.

  The most dangerous leg of their journey; the Crescent Pass, the only gap within the mountain range, all but shrouded in a lethal veil that blotted out the rest of the world. Dozens of Fellstorms had probably raged and spewed out tides upon tides of Spawn, left to thrive with little interference from humans. Some even said a Calamity had made its nest somewhere deep underneath its peaks.

  It was quite a popular fairy tale amongst those of the Fringes. His dad had regaled stories of it to him, years before everything fell apart. Of how some of the most heroic of humanity’s Blessed began their legend by passing through it in an endless onslaught. Looking at it now, his lips curled into a sneer.

  With four Nascents and two Peers, all they could do was skirt through as fast as they could and hope to be ignored. At some point on the journey, whoever was in on this would do whatever the cult intended, and they would have the perfect excuse. He was probably the one they thought they needed to worry about the least. It wasn’t like he had someone that knew he was coming in Zola.

  And well, despite all his thinking, there was not much he could do. He was too pathetic, and weak. Telling any of these lot would either lead to all of them being killed or tied up, or they would all turn on him. The scarred man might be involved, too. He wasn’t foolish to think his Soulbound knife could take on even a Nascent. He could only hope and pray for his luck to improve.

  But he doubted any of the various gods and goddesses he knew of would care about his plight. If they weren’t just images made to placate the foolish.

  This is the problem with being too pessimistic.

  At this rate, a Fellstorm might as well appear and blow them to pieces already!

  At that moment, he heard a faint gasp and his heart lurched. The pretty girl had finally broken out of her reverie, and was clinging onto her guardian’s arm tighter at something she’d seen outside the window.

  “Cillin, look!” the frightened noise disturbed the silence.

  The large man turned his head, and Jude watched as the gentle face slowly shifted into haggard, muted horror. But in an incredible effort, it disappeared, replaced with a soft melancholy.

  “Don’t worry, my dear. Everything’s going to be fine.” his reassurance had not even the slightest quaver.

  “But is it what…”

  “Why don’t you lie down and sleep? When you wake up, it’s all going to be back to normal.” a soothing but stern look silenced her worries.

  Like a little child, the girl closed her eyes and rested on the man’s lap, and he began to carefully stroke her hair. But the terror once again began to poke through. He looked at the other sleeping man as if about to wake him, then made eye contact with Jude.

  Who was silently cursing in his head.

  No bloody way my luck’s that bad. Why me? How? Did I really jinx myself like this?

  He forced a smile onto his gaunt face, “Looks like we’ll have to make a run for it, eh?”

  Cillin’s expression darkened, and he panicked, thinking about how to salvage the conversation, before he spoke again, “Indeed.”

  Jude finally took one long gaze back out at the sky, taking in the red streak that painted over broiling clouds, stirring up the vortex.

  From the size of it, he was sure it was at least a Class 2, maybe even a Class 3.

  How lovely.