The naked woman looked somehow comfortable on the altar, displayed for all the cultists. The gold cloaked figure that stood above with the altar must have been Daefindel. His face was still totally concealed from view, but quickly that is not where Max ‘s eyes were drawn. The cloaked man’s hands raised up above the altar, holding forth a wicked looking black and red dagger with a blade that curved back and forth like a winding path. The hilt was adorned with a black gem and two red gems. Max had never before seen such a valuable looking item, nor one that was so figuratively twisted as this blade.

  All of the cultists in the pit with Max held their collective breath. Max swore that the man would stab the woman brutally the next moment. Instead, his hands descended at a slow and dramatic speed. The dagger was held out, handle first to the woman. Some of it was coming together now. The marks all over the woman’s body must have been mutilation caused by situations such as this one. She accepted the dagger and started to slide it along her skin with the blade. No blood spilled and no flesh was penetrated with the soft pressure she applied to her skin.

  The crowd began to hum quietly at first, but then the volume slowly increased, making Max’s head feel like it was vibrating. The woman continued to drag the blade across her skin now up by her ample breasts. When the humming started to become not a single tone, but a double “hum hum” deep within the diaphragms of the cultists, the blade dug in. It was a slow building pressure so that first the long line carved into the woman’s skin was almost just a scratch of irritation. A red line formed down the side of her body to her hips. Then with the continued humming, her hand curved up with the blade and moved around the lower curve of her breast. Now it was truly digging in. Streams of blood trailed down her body and pooled upon her.

  Moments later, the chanting slowed and then stopped. The blade slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor, bouncing and splashing blood from the creases all across the floor directly in front of the altar. It was a cordoned off area that Max thought was strange before. Now he perhaps knew why. The gold cloaked man quickly jumped down from behind the raised altar and started to examine the floor where the blood landed. He started muttering to himself and looked as if perhaps he was doing math.

  All the cultists leaned forward to try to view the blood and to listen to the mumbling of the cloaked figure. Finally, he threw his head back, which caused a majority of the crowd to jump back from surprise.

  “There is one among us that can finally help us to achieve the goal that we have so long sought. The world shall be reunited. We shall bring about a new Age. An Age that will see the people of the Old World survives the terrible things that come for us from the great beyond.” He leaped forward to the edge of the opening.

  Max was bracing himself for the man to point him out. He paced towards Max with a staring intensity that in any other setting would have been seen as quite creepy. His eyebrows were furrowed in extreme concentration.

  He stopped directly in front of Max, and then something unexpected surprised Max and almost disappointed him. The man did not point him out, but pointed to his companion, Pelos. “This man! The key to our plans. The one that we need to carry out our immediate goal towards...” he paused for dramatic affect and raised his voice, “Salvation!”

  The whole crowd looked at Pelos now as they had to Max just a few moments before. They all repeated, “Salvation!” in a loud droning voice.

  Pelos looked around and instantly seemed to feel surrounded. His eyes bugged out of his skull and a look of dread and anger was shot at the speaker. He grabbed Max’s arm. “We need to... we’ve got to go. Make our way out of here.” Max was still confused and conflicted. What could this be about?

  Then, the speaker, as if sensing Max’s hesitation spoke a revelation that made for Max to break his confusion, “You see. This man is no man at all. He is...” another long pause and intense glare with a turned head and a single staring eye, “A Scion!”

  Max’s jaw dropped. The crowd groaned and cheered collectively, again they sent out a droning response, “A Scion.”

  Max looked at Pelos who now seemed frantic. He started to look around for the clearest path to an exit, and the crowd could sense his desperation. They all started to close in around him. Many of the cultists that came from behind Max simply brushed past him as if he was of no concern to them.

  He thought back to the trip to the Spire. To his loyal compatriot, Pater, who was now lost or dead in that gods forsaken place. The woman who he grew to adore now lay far away from him in a bed, grievously wounded, hopefully to survive. These things could have been prevented. All Pelos needed to do was admit his secret, a secret that no one even knew he was keeping. This, Daefindel seemed to have a good idea he was keeping a secret though. And a secret it was no longer!

  Pelos pulled out a handheld device as he became surrounded with the cultists, quite literally crowding his space. He moved to hold the egg looking device in the air, but before he would have the chance to use this “magic” from another age that Scion’s were rumored to possess, the cultists knocked him down and the egg rolled out of sight.

  Some things were starting to make sense now. How did Pelos so intimately understand the operations of the train? What was that energy field that protected him from the alien device that sought to vaporize him? Now the answer seemed trivial, he was a Scion.

  Max was brought out of his thoughts by an unfamiliar hand on his shoulder. It was the speaker who continued to hide his face. Daefindel? “Come with me. We have much to discuss. We must also owe you a great boon for bringing this man to our presence. The final hurdle that was in our path is now cleared, and we have only you to thank.”

  He turned and nearly floated away from the scene where the mob of cultists descended upon Pelos, stripping him of all possessions and restraining him. Max grimaced. He felt betrayed, as it seemed to become commonplace for him to be. Still, the perverse sight of Pelos being stripped and abused in this way was disturbing to him. He shook the painful thoughts out of his head and turned on the balls of his feet quickly to follow the man and his guards as they left through a far exit from the vast temple chamber.

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  The thick stone door to the temple chamber was closed as soon as Max was through by two of the big guards. Their pace slowed as the leader turned into a nearby room. It was decorated with many cloaks, articles of clothes, long and slow burning candles that were gold in color, and a desk with all the instruments for writing. The man motioned for the guards to stand at the door, leaving them alone in the open room.

  The speaker gazed upon Max, “I am...” he pulled his hood back and Max gasped. “Daefindel.”

  Max was lost for words. His mouth opened and the will to speak did not come. What was this, Daefindel?

  “Your journey here leads me to believe that you have embraced that you have a destiny.” He paused again and waited for a moment that Max’s expression might change. “You have forsaken the foolish words of the Wizard’s Council and the other forces that sought to use you as a pawn rather than let you become who and what you are.” When Max still stared and did not speak back, the man with the very tiny mouth, inhumanly tiny spoke again, “Surely I am not that strange after all the things you have witnessed in this world. Either way, are you ready to discuss our immediate plans for absolution?”

  Finally, the itch to learn could not be forced silent as he audibly cleared his throat to speak, “My curiosity must know before we continue with plans. Where do you come from? Not to be rude, but what are you?”

  Daefindel seemed used to this question, but he seemed equally used to not answering it at all. Still he spoke of it, “I come from the great beyond of the cosmos your people know of. I am Plaenitorm. My world, far away from here, but no long ago was ravaged and destroyed by the beings you yourself have fought during your travels. The servants of Krakulath. The beings you encountered on the Spire are simply a vanguard for the coming of the god-being himself.”

  The brief descriptions Max heard in the past now did sound like how this man looked. His mouth was so thin and his lips were almost invisible. There was no nose to speak of, but there were nostrils. His eyes were compound in a way that Max could only dream of how he viewed the world. They were large black, segmented orbs that dominated his head. He had a thin bit of hair on top of his head that hung about the sides in strands, like a crazy old man’s hair.

  “Alright. Now, what are we doing to stop this?”

  “There is an ancient device, developed by one generation of the Scions, located here on this fragment. It is a counterpoint to the one currently operating so far away that you saw on the horizon. The vortex is what I’m referring to. The common people who know only magic see it as a world eating curse, one that slowly pulls the Wild into destruction and then some day, the Old World and all the fragments. It is also an ancient device, much like the one that we will use to save the cosmos.” He grabbed a parchment and a writing device and started to jot down diagrams and details to more easily explain the situation.

  “Where is the other ancient device? And what does it do?” There was a convenient map of the cosmos sitting on the desk. Max pointed a finger on to it rather randomly. This was more to indicate to Daefindel to show him on the map.

  Daefindel paused his fast paced scribbling and dropped the writing device. He looked up into Max’s eyes. “Amazing. Do that again?”

  “Okay,” Max pointed down at the map.

  “Strange. The first time, you dropped your finger right near the location of it. Your instincts are strong.”

  “What does it do?” It felt to Max like Daefindel was slowly revealing little bits just to drive up the suspense, and he was starting to get impatient.

  Daefindel nodded slowly, “That device is called a gravity controller. What it all means is that, with the help of a Scion, we will have the ability to reunite the fragments of the Wild with the Old World. We will heal the Nobilis, start to unite the Shardborn, and perhaps resurrect the Creator along with Sevaliki.”

  Max was delighted to hear this news. There was no darkness to what these cultists were doing. He never witnessed them do anything too horrible. Sure, they believed in destiny, why couldn’t he do the same? Why were his friends and the Prophetic Cult so antagonistic to each other? There only issue seemed to be differing points of view. He did not have much experience with it in such a small place as the hamlet, but out here in the world, he had learned just how different views could be.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Fortunately, this stage of things has already benefited from your help quite a bit. Making Pelos cooperate in the very end with activating the device is what we need you for now. Only after that will my visions tell us what comes next,” he looked up and out towards a blank wall as if he was looking upon the face of a being of great beauty. A smile came over his face. It was very much a blank expression of childish happiness that showed on his face.

  One of the guards grunted some words from the doorway. It was obvious to Max that his moment of visitation was over. He left the room and the guards gave him an escort back to his room, where he was now the only resident. The rest of that day and the following, he was given free roam of the temple, more or less. He spoke to many of the cultists.

  He went to the top of the temple and climbed to the very peak. From there, he was above the ever moving and shifting tree canopy. He could see the distant vortex and when he turned his vision to the opposite horizon, he saw a massive thing. It must have been the Old World. It was beautiful from up here. The colors that showed on its surface were varied. There were swirling clouds and dark storms moving across it. If anything was truly memorable from this place, it was the view of the Old World and the counterpoint of the sucking vortex on the opposite side of the Wild Plane, constantly pulling it farther and farther away ever so slowly.

  The following morning, he woke to sounds of screaming organizers, many sets of footsteps, bags being packed, and the begging and pleading of a solitary man who saw his life as he knew it coming to an end, Pelos. Max stepped out into the morning sun. A pleased looking guard stood near his stone door that had been cracked open just enough to allow him to enter and leave.

  “Good morning. What is all the chaos about,” Max asked.

  “The majority of us are moving. It’s time to go activated the device. They’ve got the prisoner chained up and ready to move. Our master is leaving behind a small contingent to keep an eye on the temple. Otherwise, the rest of us get to go witness the fruition of our labors and sacrifices.” The guard was quite smug. His expressions gave away that he was not one of the cultists volunteered to stay behind at the temple.

  Max must have slept through the majority of the preparations. He quickly gathered his gear and was in line with the caravan before long. The trip was tedious and slow going, but several of the cultists took charge and pushed the group forward as quickly as they could cut through the dense foliage and find a way. A few skirmishing engagements with predators of this place were the most terrifying and exciting events that occurred. A few of their lives were lost, but even when friend would lose close friend, none of them seemed overly hurt or concerned. Utter focus was in the eyes of all these men and women as they traveled to the location of this ancient device. Max tried to engage some of them in conversation during the trip. Their mentalities seemed completely changed from when he talked to them at the temple.