Unbound

Choristry began not with gods

Not power on high

But with a vibration among the firmament

The distant Realms

Turning

Humming

In Harmony

Present Day

The Low Roads were a warren of confusing tunnels beneath the Rimefang mountains, built by the Dwarves to connect their various cities to one another. Once, a Territory-spanning kingdom had spread out across the mountains, ruled over by a line of kings that Tzfell told him had long since died out. Most of the Low Roads were well-kept and orderly, all squared edges and gilded knotwork designs upon the walls. The one they found themselves upon, however, was rough and pockmarked by shallow pools of dark water, lit only by moss and crystals instead of magelights or inscribed lamps.

Thankfully, Felix didn’t need conjured light to see. To him, the tunnels were lit by the unique vibrations of Mana, each one its own hue. Each perfectly describing the living world around him. With his Manasight so advanced, it was like walking through a multicolor landscape made of light.

Ungh. Damnit. Felix slowed, as did the others behind as the hold he had over his Abyssal Skein wobbled. There was a fire in his chest and it did not dim or flag, but he held it close. Pit.

He checked his notifications, but after two days nothing had changed.

Your Companion Has Claimed The Mote Of Frenzy!

Evolution In Process!

Etheric Concordance is level 92!

Holding Pit within his Spirit was the only way to move his Companion during their travels. Thanks to the layer of chaotic Mana around the tenku, even the Eidolon Exults couldn’t carry him without fear of eroding the sigaldry that gave them life. Meanwhile, the power rioted within Felix, trying time and again to stab outward into his core space, and it required a good portion of his Will and Intent to keep it contained.

It wasn’t always enough. It spilt like water through his fingers…like gasoline, pungent and filmy. It lingered, leaking into the boughs of his Divine Tree—and unless he wished to leave Pit in the dark tunnels, alone and unconscious, there was nothing Felix could do about it.

He pressed onward, as he had for days. Deeper into the Low Roads, following broken Dwarven signage as they traversed between the Clan Holds. Tzfell said they were heading north, but the portion of the Low Roads they found themselves in—the portion connected to the Rockshaper’s secret workshop—had all the signs of being abandoned for decades. Centuries. It was most evident in the rutted path and the profusion of wild mushrooms and small, feral game. Small monsters mostly, Journeyman Tier at best, but outfitted with fangs and teeth aplenty.

They were a steady stream of experience, at the very least.

His team had gained much from their journey up the Undermount, progressing through a number of Skill levels on their push toward Master Tier. None of them were much concerned with advancement at the moment—their journey had not gone as they had hoped.

Evie trailed behind, unnaturally quiet, her thoughts clearly preoccupied much as Felix’s own. For her, however, it was Harn that sat in the forefront of her Mind. The man had been feverish these past few days as his severed legs tried and failed to heal. It was not as bad as Pit’s wound had been, but the golden Mana that infested them worked to break open any healing applied to bone, muscle, or skin. Their Health Potions were running low and Tzfell’s own Skills couldn’t flush his system for long before the golden light returned.

Fucking Pathless, he cursed for perhaps the hundredth time that day. Felix had tried to eat the magic in Harn’s wounds, but his Hunger was overfull. A consequence of his feeding on Scaldara, the Superior Elemental of Fire and Earth. To take in any more was like breathing in when he already had a full chest of air—namely, impossible. Once he digested the power, he would have more space. His Hunger would see to that. You just gotta hold on a little longer, Harn. Please.

For now the Eidolon Exults carried the warrior, which allowed him to sleep. The stone sentinels, artifacts from Ages long gone, were a tremendous boon to their party. Not only did one carry Harn, but they also were loaded down with stolen treasure, resources, and artifacts from the Vault of Nine Kings. Leather packs filled to the brim with coins and gems hung from their long arms, and one bore the glass-like core of Scaldara in its arms. The core was massive, though it proved to be no issue to the Eidolon, even with a golden Wyrmling resting atop of it.

Yin had spent most of his time propped up against the Superior Elemental core, tracing strange shapes upon its smooth surface. It was apparently required for his Evolution, but Felix had no clue how the tiny Wyrmling intended to use it. He was like a snake with an egg too big to eat.

“How long are we going to hoof it through these tunnels?” Archie asked. The Delven’s left arm was bound to his chest to keep it from moving and was apparently quite painful—the same sort of infection Harn suffered was also present in the small man’s chest, if in lesser quantities. The pain, however, only encouraged his sour attitude. “I need a bath and a good meal, pronto.”

“At least they’re made for you,” Beef said from his other side. He was almost as big as the Eidolons and took up a great deal of the old tunnel, which had proven an issue once or twice, his thick muscles as much a hindrance as his widespread horns. “Besides, I thought Delven loved rocks and stuff.”

“Just cuz I picked this Race doesn’t mean I love dirt. Do you love mazes?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“...You’re impossible.”

The ghost of a smile flitted across Felix’s face. Vess leaned close, putting her weight on her partisan. “We are very lucky we’ve not encountered any patrols. Even with your Abyssal Skein, their bickering would surely draw a battalion.”

His smile deepend. She was joking, but that didn’t mean she was wrong. Felix could feel the edges of his Skill rumble with their voices as the envelope of Void energy flexed around their party. “I’d say Beef has a way about him, but our new friend has been more sour than usual.”

“Indeed.” With her free hand, Vess formed a single symbol of handsign.

Felix’s smile faded and he nodded. Vess didn’t say anything else, but he could feel her eyes on him. No urging, no insisting—simply waiting for him to be ready. They’d all heard about Imara…about his sister.

“Things have changed,” he said at last. There was more than just the burn of Pit in his chest. Fury boiled within, threatening to spill outward if he thought on it too long. “We need…I need more time. To figure things out.”

Vess rested her gauntlet on his shoulder. “I am here for you, if you need me.”

He reached up and gripped her hand. His black scales were stark against her white and blue armor.

While Beef took up the rearguard, Tzfell and Laur trailed near the middle of the pack. The latter was busy studying the Eidolons whenever they could, while the former consulted with a sheaf of maps she’d liberated from the vault. They hadn’t done much to illuminate their position beneath the earth, but she was reasonably certain they were headed north.

“Felix,” Beef said, stepping away from Archie and the Eidolons. “Hallow has reached the edge of the mountains.”

“How long before they reach the Hoarfrost?” he asked.

“Another day at most,” Hallow reported from Beef’s chest. Her Homunculus form was wrapped around him like a breastplate, stone and crystal conforming to the Minotaur’s broad chest. “The storms have abated, and my Multipede form carries the largest of their burdens with ease. Loquis and Mervin request confirmation: will we meet them?”

Felix sighed. That Hallow could communicate with her other Bodies was an advantage they had relied on since they’d planned their little heist. Her range was not infinite, but as Beef had proven before when they’d split up in the past, but it was considerable. With it, Felix knew that the Claw had been successfully smuggled out of first the Clan Hold and then Birchstone. It had cost them a lot of gold to hire the smugglers and thieves, but they’d done their job well.

“Tzfell? How much farther?” he asked.

The Dwarven Chanter flipped through her maps, but her bald head was already shaking. “This branch is too old. It doesn’t appear on a single map. All we have to go on are the old signage, and those have proven less than helpful as well.”

“I don’t like the idea of gettin’ stuck down here,” Evie said with a sharp tone. “Why don’t we just dig out?”

“Tunneling through the earth is a risk we should not take lightly. This deep it is all too easy to encounter pockets of poisoned air or foul, subterranean monsters.”

“The Rimefangs are old,” Laur added. “A great many nightmares are clutched beneath their roots.”

“We continue on, as we have been,” Felix decided. “Hallow, tell the Claw that we’re on our way and to find shelter for now.”

“As you wish, Felix.”

The plan had been to reunite with his company in the Hoarfrost and from there journey via Labyrinthine Wing back to Nagast. Failing that, they were ordered to travel without him—he’d already anointed two of them as Exemplars, able to use his Skill to traverse the Dark Passages. The problem with that, of course, was that their control was far more limited than Felix’s own. If they could avoid that, they would.

Still. A great deal of Felix’s plans depended on returning to Elderthrone and the resources he had at hand. He burned at the delay.

“C’mon. I don’t want to waste another moment down here—Wait.” Felix froze, arm outstretched. “Do you hear that?”

A faint echo tumbled down the cavernous tunnel. His friends tilted their heads, presumably flaring their Perceptions as best they could, but all of them looked confused. To Felix, the sound grew, resolving into something that sounded like rhythmic thumping. It was coming from ahead of them.

“Evie.”

“Aye. On it.”

Shadow wrapped around Evie like a cloak as she engaged her own Stealth Skill and sped off toward the sound. Her Born Trait kept her footsteps light, and her Agility and Dexterity meant she was little more than a whisper on the disused path.

They waited. For ten whole minutes, Felix stood, listening to the sound. It faded now and again, changed tempo, but never vanished. In time, Evie returned, zipping back just as fast as she’d gone.

“We’re screwed,” she said simply. “There’s a fortress town ahead absolutely chock full of Ironclads. I found these pasted all over the gates.”

She handed Felix a half-crumpled piece of parchment. He unfolded it with a frown, only to see an impressively accurate depiction of himself scrawled across its surface. Words in the common script filled the space around his scowling face.

Beef leaned over his shoulder. “In connection with the crimes of murder, assault, and theft of the highest order, Felix Nevarre, alias Silas Veil, Autarch of Nagast is wanted. Dead or alive. Whoa.”

“Congrats,” Archie said. “You’re famous.”

Shit.