Hope you like the chapter!
Hump braced himself, staff in hand, as the spectres surged from the hydra's chamber like a crashing wave of light. A sea of ghostly blue forms poured forth, their screeches echoing down the corridor. It was only now that Hump truly processed that the syphoning power he’d sensed before was gone. Perhaps it was the Reality Anchors that were keeping them at bay until now. Without the suppressive force of the prison's essence syphoning, the spectres were free.
Their eyes were the brightest point—hollow and filled with essence. it shimmered around them, chilling the air as the screamed toward the prison’s threshold. Others swarmed the hydra’s body, rending its flesh, feasting like a swarm of crows.
“Bud, you need to get up,” Emilia said.
Her words didn’t seem to reach him. The knight was unmoving on the stone floor, his sword forgotten beside him. Emilia shook him gently. “Bud? Bud, please. You have to get up. It’s not safe here.”
He didn’t stir.
At the door, Celaine called out. “Nisha, come!”
The dragon bounded back into the room, snarling, her tail lashing at the wind of spectres approaching. Hump could sense her fear. Their essence was unnatural to her sensitive scales.
Celaine started to pull the doors shut.
“Stop,” Loften commanded. “Leave them open.”
The god reached forward from where he lay, pressing his hand to the ground. A low hum rumbled through the stone, trembling beneath Hump's feet. He felt the pulse of essence spread outward, running through the floor like blood in veins. Channels of gold, bronze, and red blazed to life, erupting from Loften's palm and snaking out in four directions. They climbed the walls, filling the many runes upon their service, bathing the chamber in their light. The entire structure seemed to awaken. Hump felt it all, not just the room, but the tower above them.
Loften rose slowly. Even weakened, he was a presence impossible to ignore. He strode toward the oncoming spectres, his steps unhurried as if unbothered by the storm rushing toward him.
He raised one hand, his fingers splayed. A pulse of force erupted from his palm. It spread outward in a wave—no flash, no explosion, just raw intent carried upon essence. The will of a god. The spectres could do nothing to avoid it in the hydra’s chamber. They were swept up in his power and sent flying backward as if caught in a gale. The chamber echoed with their screeches, only for silence to take over as they struck the rear wall, their bodies dissipating into essence.
Hump’s heart hammered at the power on display. He gripped tightly to his staff, his body caught somewhere between fight and flight.
And then it was gone. Loften’s presence seemed to shrink, until it seemed as if it were only an old man standing before him. Yet the once dark chamber was bright with his essence. The runes upon the walls remained lit. Channels flooded the tiled floor. Even the rocks took on a new, faint radiance.
“Come,” Loften said, turning toward the towering doors. “After an eternity… it is time I leave this prison behind.”
He began to walk, bare feet slapping the tiled floor. But Hump remained behind, his eyes on Bud. The knight hadnt moved, not even to raise his head. It was hard to guess at what he might be thinking. Denial, anger, grief, or something else entirely. His face was unreadable, but his stillness was louder than any scream. Hump had never seen Bud so distraught. It wasn’t like him. He was too stubborn for this.
Nishari approached and nuzzled him, bumping her head into his side, yet he didn’t even look her way. Emilia ran a hand down Nisha’s back.
“Give him some time,” Emilia said softly.
“We can’t leave him here,” Bud said.
“I could carry him,” Celaine offered.
Hump frowned at her. She could certainly lift him, but it was the image of a knight in full armour draped over her back that gave him pause.
“Let’s avoid destroying his masculine pride, shall we?” Dylan said. “I will carry him.”
The druid lifted Bud easily onto his back without resistance.
Loften did not spare the Hydra so much as a glance as he passed through its chamber. The great beast was unrecognisable. In only a few moments, the spectres had torn its body to bloody shreds, and what remained was a pile of flesh and gore. Loften strode past it to the end of the chamber, where he gazed upward through the great hole from which they had descended—without so much as a gesture.
Essence stirred. Stone peeled away from the walls, spiralling upwards to form a broad staircase. They stretched all the way around the hole, climbing up to the lower level of the tower. Dust fell from overhead as the great structure groaned back to life. Ancient mechanisms, long dormant, awakened once more.
It had been dark when they descended, but now a warm glow filled the space, faintly reaching them even down in the depths.
“Wait,” Hump said. “I’ve released you. It’s time to talk about what comes next.”
Loften’s gaze lingered above. “You seek a way home.”
“Yes. To Alveron.”
“The gateway system will need to be restored,” Loften said. “With my freedom restored, I can repair it, but it is not as simple as returning you to Alveron. The bridges across the veil will be open—all of them. Anyone with the will and the knowledge will have access from across the nine worlds.”
“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Hump asked.
“You did not ask,” Loften said with a shrug. “And does it matter? The worlds were connected once, and they shall be again.”
Hump wondered how much chaos the altari arriving in Alveron would cause, let alone whoever existed beyond. It could mean war.
“Is there no way to reintroduce the gateways more slowly?” Hump asked.
“Perhaps, but I do not know it,” Loften said. “The bridges exist. All that keeps them closed is a calibration error across the gateways. But they are all connected. Where one is restored, all shall follow. It is only through that method that they function at all. I will need time to repair the conduits and relight the forges. Days, perhaps. The tower must be whole again first. But it will be done. You granted me freedom, and for that I am grateful, but any further questions must wait. I must take stock.”
“There is one more thing,” Hump said. “Not a question. We didn’t come here alone. Our allies are outside the doors to your tower in the barren wasteland that surrounds it. Monsters lurk on all sides and we must get them inside. They are your followers.”
“Then we shall start there,” Loften said. “Come.”
Hump swallowed hard. The others gathered close, weapons in hand, though none were raised. They followed Loften without a word, ascending the staircase behind him. There was a gravity to the god’s movements, as if the entire tower shifted in response to each step he took.
At the top, the great antechamber that had once been a lifeless ruin now pulsed with essence. The origin of the warm glow was shining stones embedded in the walls and ceilings. It flickered and danced like fire restrained in a crystal.
Celaine swung round and readied her bow. Hump turned to see a creature—no, a construct—stepping out from beneath the walls. It was forged of silver metal, engraved with runes, and its joints shone with essence. With graceful precision, it tapped forward on delicate feet and began gathering rubble, sorting it into neat piles.
As it worked, others joined it. Dozens filtered out from hidden recesses in the stone, all forged of the same silver alloy, all moving with silent, single-minded purpose. As if some ancient system had flickered back to life, the tower itself was waking. The constructs fanned out, lifting stones, slotting bricks back into broken walls, sweeping dust and ash into waiting compartments.
“Look at what has become of it,” Loften said with a strange eagerness to his voice. “Once this was the heart of my dominion… but it has been ravaged. So much is gone. It will take some time to restore it to its former glory.”
“You don’t sound upset,” Hump said.
Loften chuckled. “What is made may be lost, but the hands that forged it remember.” Loften grinned up at his statue, noting the damage to the face with a frown. “Now that will need fixing.”
They proceeded through the antechamber, back into the Maker’s Tower itself. Soon, they came to the entryroom. It was now that sorrow touched his face as he stared upon the statue, Kaestra.
“Creator,” she said. “You live.”
“I do, my child,” Loften said. A pulse of chamber passed through his hand, entering Kaestra’s body. The cracks in her body healed, but the shard through her chest remained. “We shall restore you, Kaestra. You will not be bound here any longer.”
“I… would like that.”
Loften forced his eyes away, turning to the tower doors. He snapped his fingers, and they swung silently open. Light spilled through,a nd with it, the sounds of battles.
Weapons clashed. Shrill, screeches filled the air. Hump rushed to the threshold and stopped. The altari were outside, their backs pressed to the tower walls, fighting off a host of flying creatures. The beasts came at them in waves, carried on batlike wings, with long, toothed beaks.
“Come on!” Hump shouted, waving them in. “Get inside, now!”
“With haste,” Loften called. “I have much to do.”
Outside, the altari responded quickly. Captain Hadbur barked orders, cutting through the confusion. Prince Marcoff and Princess Urella followed, dragging a wounded scribe between them. Runesmith Tatsi came last.
The monsters did not follow them.
They surged into the tower, panting and bloodied. A few bodies were left behind, but most had made it.
As the doors closed behind them, the altari gawked.
“What happened?” Prince Marcoff asked, his voice unsteady. “How is the—” He stopped, eyes falling on the towering figure of Loften. “Lord Maker!”
All at once, the altari dropped to their knees in stunned silence.
Loften didn’t even acnknowledge them. He simply turned and walked back into the tower. “Much to do indeed.”
***
Loften was in no state to speak, his attention elsewhere, and truthfully, Hump and the others were in even worse shape. Exhaustion clung to them. The fight, the choices they’d made, the truths they’d uncovered—they all needed time to truly process it. But the world would not wait.
“Wizard,” Prince Marcoff called, striding toward him with the clipped, entitled tone of someone used to being obeyed. “You must tell us what happened in that place.”
Hump barely spared him a glance. “I have more important matters to attend to.”
He turned away. On the far side of the room, Emilia had managed to settle Bud into a sitting position. The knight looked hollow, like a man carved from grief. That was where Hump’s focus lay—his friend needed him.
But Marcoff wasn’t done.
The prince stepped in front of him, one hand snapping out to seize Hump’s arm. “I don’t think you understand what’s at stake here—”
It happened without thought.
A flicker of anger passed through Hump, and with it, his soul slipped loose. Not entirely, but enough.
The air thickened with pressure. The prince froze. His grip fell away as his eyes widened in alarm. Then his legs gave out and he dropped to the stone floor with a panicked thud. He stared up at Hump, mouth working uselessly, no words coming out—just shallow breaths and fear.
Hump didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His gaze alone said more than enough. He stepped past the prince, drawing his soul back into himself as naturally as breathing.
Behind him, Nisha padded over to him. She leaned close to Marcoff’s face, not touching him, but enough that he could feel the heat of her breath against his cheek. Her lips pulled back into a silent snarl, then she stepped over him and followed after Hump.
“How is he?” Hump asked.
“He’s talked,” Emilia said. “But he’s not saying much.”
Bud was staring at the floor, a cold sweat on his face, pale as a ghost. Not only had Loften confirmed the fears that Bud must have already had from all that Hump had said, but he had taken away the connection Bud had to Kelisia. He had reforged the blessings that Hump had worked so hard to forge. No longer was he a Chosen of Kelisia. If anything, he was more fallen, like the Traitor Chosen, Godfrey.
Hump sighed. Where did he even begin?