Kieran slumped heavily into the nearest chair, placing the two tusks on the table in front of him. Now that he was out of danger and the high of his near-death experience had all but faded, exhaustion was rapidly spreading through both his body and mind.
He closed his eyes.
Immediately, a vision of stars and nebulae danced through his mind, overshadowed by a majestic black hole. Yet, almost as soon as he realized what he was seeing, the vision was gone.
Kieran didn’t have the energy to wonder at the vision. He couldn’t even open his eyes. He just sat there, aware of himself drifting off even as he struggled to keep awake.
It wasn’t until he heard the sound of Rah’Na sitting in the chair across from him that he managed to force his eyelids open.
“You ought to lie down before sleeping, Kieran,” Rah’Na teased with a wolfish grin. “Well done killing Broken Tusk. He was no easy foe, as I’m sure you can attest.”
Kieran only managed an affirmative grunt.
Rah’Na took the undamaged tusk and rolled it between her fingers. “The spare room has beds in it. Makeshift, but comfortable enough. Go, rest. I look forward to your tale of victory when you wake.”
Barely managing to nod at the old wolf, Kieran pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to the inner door. Beyond was a dark room, lit only by the light spilling through from the hideout’s main area. A few straw beds were laid out on the floor.
At the back of his mind, he felt the urge to check on both his spell list and Last Breath. But his curiosity was no match for the weariness draining every ounce of his energy. It took all his will to lower himself carefully onto one of the beds instead of simply collapsing.
Almost as soon as his body touched the sheet-covered hay, Kieran drifted off into the comforting embrace of sleep.
—
Kieran’s eyes fluttered open to the sight of stars and nebulae. He was lying on a comfortable bed of black and purple flowers, their sweet fragrance heavy in his senses. His arms were crossed over his chest.
Slowly pushing himself up to a sitting position, Kieran looked around. He seemed to be in the Veil Between Worlds again, the place where he had first met Vahr’Kuhl. Only this time, there was no sign of the black throne, nor the awe-inspiring celestial devourer who sat upon it.
Kieran rose from his aromatic bed. Gazing down at the world reflected in the frozen expanse beneath him, he realized the landscape was now familiar.
There were the sprawling grasslands he had traveled through. There was the vast forest in which he had killed the gnoll lookouts and met Rah’Na. There, rising out of that forest, was Eon’s Peak.
“A vision of Lyruna,” he whispered to himself.
“A window, Chosen Contender.”
The words flooded Kieran’s mind in an all too familiar way, a veritable cascade of frozen intent. He turned around.
There was the onyx willow tree, its crystal leaves drooping over a throne of black stone.
And there, sitting upon the throne, was Vahr’Khul.
Kieran looked up at the god of death, again failing to discern any features beneath the dark, orange-ringed hood. “Ah, it’s you,” he said calmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Vahr’Khul’s laugh felt like a bucket of cold water thrown over Kieran’s mind.
“Your frankness amuses me, Contender. You were brought here to be congratulated. Within a mere two days of your arrival in Lyruna, you have defeated a great foe and beheld a facet of my totality. Your progress pleases me, and it irks my peers. Yet there is still a long road ahead of you. You have many enemies to send to their ultimate destination, and many things to understand about me and my nature.”
The god’s voice flowed into Kieran’s thoughts like an icy river, frigid yet strangely refreshing. He processed the words as he stared at this form of Vahr’Khul, trying to find a pattern in the stars which decorated the entity’s cloak and flesh. Yet nothing came to mind.
“You’re right. There are many things I still don’t understand.” Pulling his focus away from the starlit veins, Kieran tried to stare directly into the black hole where the god’s face should be. “I’ve been trying to contact you. Why didn’t you bring some of my tools along, when you pulled me from my world?”
“I have provided all the tools you require to accomplish my work, Contender.”
“But not the information,” Kieran countered. “What is ‘essence’, exactly? How do I use it?”
The icy river did not waver. It kept flowing steadily as the god repeated, “I have provided all you require, for now. The rest will come in time.”
The frustration Kieran had been keeping at bay welled up again, boiling at the implacable cold of the god’s presence.
“Is that all?” he demanded, fighting to keep his tone even. “Don’t you have anything else for me? Explanations? Advice?”
Vahr’Khul was silent for a long moment. When the god spoke, each word rose in Kieran’s mind sedately, as proud and lofty as a glacier.
“The old wolf is a powerful ally. She will be valuable to you as your journey progresses, Contender.”
“Rah’Na?” Kieran raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You know her?”
“I know of her,” Vahr’Khul replied. Kieran realized the shift in the god’s tone conveyed respect for the wolf. “She was one of my sibling’s fiercest warriors, during her time as their Chosen Contender. Her trust is hard earned and easily lost. You have taken the first steps towards the former. Be sure not to err into the latter.”
Kieran thought back to the fight he had helped Rah’Na finish, remembering the fluidity and raw strength of her motions as she slaughtered their enemies. “It sounds like there are many tales you could me tell me about her.”The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Yet none of them are mine to tell,” Vahr’Khul stated.
“Of course not.” Kieran realized his fingers were trembling. He clenched them tightly into fists. “And you are also unwilling to provide any help with understanding my powers?”
Cold silence was the god’s only response.
“I see. Well, if you have no other directive for me, I would like to enjoy what remains of my rest.”
The hooded head gave a single nod. “Very well, Contender. Until next we meet.”
Vahr’Khul snapped their fingers, twisting Kieran’s vision into blackness filled with stars.
—
Kieran’s eyes shot open. He found himself back on his straw bed in the side room of Rah’Na’s hideout. He was chilled to the bone. Yet frustration still simmered in his gut, making him feel slightly feverish.
This is why giving into emotion is always a bad idea, he reminded himself grimly. It’s disorienting. Prevents clear thinking.
Sitting up, he was surprised at the sound of breaking ice. Kieran looked down. Sure enough, both he and his makeshift bed were covered in a thin layer of ice.
“Must be from Vahr’Khul pulling me away for a side bar,” he muttered, running his fingers over the cold surface.
“Kieran?” Rah’Na’s voice rang out from the other room. “Come join me, if you’re awake.”
Kieran took a moment to force the last dregs of his frustration back under his accustomed control. Then, with a crackling of ice, he stood up and stretched. Every bit of his body ached from the previous day’s exertion, but he didn’t hate the feeling. In fact, he had always found a sense of satisfaction in pain born of experience.
Pushing through the door, Kieran realized the rest of the hideout was almost as dark as the side room. A few lit candles on the tables provided a modest, flickering light.
Rah’Na was sitting in the center of the room, leaning on a table with crossed arms. She waited as he approached and slid into a chair opposite her.
“If there is anything I’m going to miss from back home, it’s my office chair,” Kieran commented, struggling to get comfortable in his seat. “It made all those hours at the computer almost bearable.”
Rah’na raised an eyebrow. “What is a computer?”
“Never mind. You need me for something?”
“Just to congratulate you, and express my respect.” Rah’Na locked eyes with him. “Broken Tusk was a tough bastard. He sent a lot of good folk and better soldiers to their deaths. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to come back.”
Kieran nodded, not at all shocked. Rah’na had no reason to trust or coddle him. It made perfect sense that she would send him to do an incredibly dangerous task to prove himself.
“Water under the bridge,” he assured her. “That combat had unexpected benefits for me, too. But, more importantly, I feel you should know the rest of the warband is still alive. I fought Broken Tusk in a duel. The rest let me go after he was dead.” His lips twisted in a half-smile. “Actually, they wanted me to become their new leader. I said no.”
It was Rah’Na’s turn to nod. “That is to be expected. As I said before, these creatures follow the strongest. I imagine we will be seeing them again before long. Not as fighters, mind, but as your followers.”
“I don’t want followers.” Kieran sighed. “I’m not a leader. Never was and never will be. I told them as much.”
“Ah, it matters not. If they show up, I’ll gladly put them to work.”
Rah’Na waved a dismissive hand. Kieran considered her for a moment. If there was anyone who could organize a bunch of monsters into a useful laboring force, it would be an ancient, powerful wolf.
“So, what’s the plan now?” he asked.
“Now we head up the mountain, to my actual hideout.” Rah’Na flashed him a true, wide grin as she stood up. “There, I’ll show you that map of Eon I mentioned. Then we shall see about the next course of action. First, however, we wait for dawn. I trust you’ll keep watch for the night.”
Rah’Na waited for his nod, then turned away. “Good. I shall see you come morning.”
The old wolf moved gracefully into the side room, closing the door behind herself.
Comfortable silence settled over Kieran, something he hadn’t gotten to enjoy much back home. The morgue had been quiet, certainly, but there was always the hum of machinery and the robust temperature control system from cold storage running in the background.
Sitting in the silence, Kieran finally had the chance to check on both his spell list and Last Breath. First, he drew the dagger and focused on it, summoning the gear screen.




Last Breath
A gift from me to you, my Chosen Contender. May you wield it with grace and intent.
Lesser Foes Slain: 2 goblins
Greater Foes Slain: Broken Tusk, Indomitable Berserker
Weapon-Bound Skill:
Death’s Arm – Extend the dagger’s reach by conjuring a blade of ice, effectively making it a short sword.




Kieran looked down at his weapon, appreciating its sharp edge in the candlelight.
Full of surprises, aren’t you? he thought, half expecting the weapon to respond. When it didn’t, Kieran stood up and pointed Last Breath away from himself, focusing on ‘Death’s Arm.’
Shards of ice rapidly grew on the dagger, layering on top of each other until they formed into a blade the same length as Kieran’s other weapon. He gave it a few practice swings to test its weight. It felt just as light as it was in dagger form.
Ending the practice combo with a flourish, Kieran instinctively willed the blade away. The ice broke off in shards, each evaporating completely before they could hit the ground.
Kieran allowed himself a faint smile.
Useful. Very useful.
Next, he sat down again and ran a finger across his bracelet.




Mend / Maim, Recall, Form of Death (Basic)
Total: 500 essence




Kieran tapped ‘Form of Death’, watching closely as the text on the screen shifted.




Form of Death (Basic)
Take on the Form of Death to move unhindered to a position within sight. Energy spent is proportional to distance travelled.
A facet beheld, a facet granted. You have only glimpsed a fraction of a fraction, dear Contender.




After checking his other abilities for changes, and finding none, Kieran willed the screen away. He changed his seat to face the doors into the hideout. Bracing himself upright in the chair, he fell deep in thought.
There seemed to be two ways to expand his arsenal of tricks. One was by slaying powerful enemies, such as Broken Tusk. It was the defeat of the boar-man that had unlocked Last Breath’s new weapon-bound skill.
But ‘Form of Death’ was not the result of victory. It had arisen when Kieran was moments away from being killed himself. That meant some skills could only be acquired by deepening his own understanding of death.
Which is difficult, when the god refuses to communicate, Kieran reflected grimly. But it’s worth a shot.
He tried to meditate, then, focusing his whole mind and will on images of Vahr’Khul. He thought of the stars shimmering on the entity’s flesh. He pondered each of the god’s titles that he knew.
But his mind fought back. Whenever he felt he was close to… something, his will pulled away, like raw flesh encountering the stinging cold of black ice.
He voiced his thoughts to the empty room in a quiet whisper.
“No shortcuts. To understand more of death, I’ll just have to be closer to it. In battle, like before.”
Shaking his head, he stood and drew both his blades. Since meditation was apparently useless, he could turn his attention to more practical matters.
It was time for some solo training.