"It's good to see the village doing so well," Caden observed to his mother, throwing a quick wave to Arnold as their steps carried them past the Honeyed Pear.

Ryme arched an eyebrow at her son. "Of course it is," she said. "Did you think we'd be in that much trouble without my malcontent child hanging around?"

Caden grinned–but only for a moment, the expression quickly fading to a frown of neutral worry, the same he had worn so often since he woke up that morning. "There's been a lot going on," he explained. "I was worried that, with the barrens so close…"

"Storyteller told me, last time he came by," Ryme said. "We've had a few problems, mostly gnoll raiders and an ogre or two, but nothing I and the others weren't able to handle."

No wonder, Caden thought to himself. Not so long ago, when he had left the village, even a single ogre may have been a lethal threat to Felisen, but times had changed, with the extra gifts Storyteller had helped the hunters acquire giving them a critical advantage.

Markey and Smith, the wolf partners, had recently reached Initiate, adding the gift of the vanguard and the skirmisher to their respective repertoires, while Denning's gift of earth had made him even more resilient. And Ryme had surpassed even them, in part thanks to Caden.

Months before, when they were still in Valley Hearth, Adeline had defeated a ravager–a massive, rage-aspected bear monster. When the moderate beast had yielded a totem, Caden had petitioned for Tobias to take the totem back to Felisen, finally allowing Ryme to reach Adept.

That same gesture had then saved Caden's own life, allowing Ryme access to the summoned bear she had used to distract the ogre for those crucial moments the day before.

"Enough of the village," Ryme said. "Storyteller and that Tobias fellow told me something of what you've gone through since you left home. You owe me a little more explanation that they gave me."

Another eager smile banished the stormclouds of worry from Caden's face. He wanted to rush back to Elliven to find out what had happened to his friends, what had happened to the Wastes and the city–but he knew that it wasn't worth it to try to rush back to the bastion city, not with it weeks away by foot.

Things were coming to a head–Storyteller would no doubt be involving himself soon.

The least Caden could do was take what time he could to see his mother. If nothing else, telling some stories would hopefully keep him from dwelling on the fate of his friends.

#

"It's morning," Dillen said. "Or what passes for it."

WIth the sky a uniform shade of blood red, it was hard to tell the difference, but there had been a slow, progressive darkening that lasted for hours. That stygian time had brought uncountable horrors out of the depths of the nightmare Elliven, and the two boys had been forced to take cover while they could.

Tenebres sighed and leaned back against the thick, black iron vat he was hiding behind. Cast iron, the other him had called it. The two had ended up hiding in the dark, empty confines of the nightmare equivalent to Olan's Accessories–the same corrupted version of the shop that Tenebres had once seen in one of his dreams.

Thankfully, it had stayed empty through the night, affording the boys some small chance at rest. Unfortunately, neither of them succeeded at getting any real sleep, settling instead for taking turns sinking into the meditative lassitude of a reverie to recover their expended energy.

Instead of sleep, Tenebres had spent the long hours of the night trying to think through what he knew, and what it meant for Elliven.

One, the hags had some way of manipulating the glades. It seemed like the void hag was the key to doing so, but it was still bad. There was no way of knowing how many war camps the hags had concealed in locked away instances of glades, hidden from prying eyes.

Two, this city wasn't truly a nightmare, even if that was still the easiest way for Tenebres to label it. It was a real space–another glade, most likely, a second instance of Elliven that overlaid with the actual city.

Three, the enigma of the Arboreal Wastes, the fact that it only produced low ranked outsiders, was no mystery at all. It was a purposeful plot executed by the Coven of Whispers. Through both the previous evening and the long night, Tenebres had counted dozens of ogres, witches, gnolls of breeds he had never seen before, and even outsiders from the other worlds, including a troop of heavily-scaled desert kobolds and a swirling cloud of specters. The hags had been concealing the most dangerous and numerous outsiders in this city, building an army while luring Elliven's sentinels into a sense of complacency, limiting the high levelled gifted it would have available to call upon.

Four, the void hag had the ability to move beings between instances of a glade. That was what she had done the day before. She must've sent the rest of their cadres into a glade conjoined to the one they had confronted her in, likely straight into an ambush. If she could do that, it was likely she could do it at a larger scale, too, particularly if she had help from a coven.

Given all of that, the Coven's plan was obvious. The hags had a massive force built up in the nightmare Elliven, one that they could spontaneously shift into the city itself, depositing a legion of outsiders inside of Elliven's walls. The slaughter would be indescribable.

Five, Tenebres was likely the only person in either Elliven who could do something about it. His powers came from the same source as the void hag's. He had already managed to use her magic to his advantage once, to get to this place. The other him had advised that Tenebres needed to get to the nightmare city's equivalent of Highcastle, that he'd be able to get home from there–most likely by using the void hag's own power against her again.

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Six, the hags knew he was in the city. They hadn't found him in their sweeps, and he had purposefully kept himself from summoning another fiend, but they'd know better than to think he was gone. It was all too likely that there would be guards and other surprises waiting in the Darkcastle for him and Dillen–but as they had no better ideas for how to get back to the real Elliven, they'd have to try anyway.

#

"He just ditched you in the middle of a new town!?"

Caden couldn't help a little smirk. It was good to see someone react with as much indignance as he had felt, all those months ago.

"He did," Caden confirmed, "but in the end, it was fine. If he hadn't done that, I would've never met my friends. Oli, Lana, and Tennie are more reliable than that old scarecrow ever was."

Ryme rolled her eyes, her tense body language relaxing a little. "Friends, are they?"

Caden felt a tiny bit of heat flare up on each of his cheeks. "Yes, they're friends. Just friends." Elder knew that was all he was willing to tell Ryme. He didn't need his mother's opinions on his past flings with Allana and Tenebres, much less her thoughts on the nebulous psuedo-relationship he had with Alyssia.

"But… that's what I really needed," Caden continued. "They're good people. Good allies. Good friends. I can trust them. And…" Caden chewed his lips, his own words reminding him of the fears he had been trying to ignore until he could do something about them. "And I don't know what happened to them. I'm worried."

Ryme frowned, studying Caden's face. "Whatever brought you to the barrens… it's bad?"

Caden nodded. "Really bad," he said. "I'm not gonna pretend I know all of the magic involved in what's going on. But… I think a lot more than Elliven is at risk. I think all the heartlands, maybe the Realm as a whole, might be in danger."

Ryme's troubled expression mirrored Caden's own emotions. "Okay," she finally said. "I'll get word to the village. We'll start preparing."

Caden blinked. "Preparing?"

"Storyteller warned us, before he even left with you, that something bad could end up coming this way. Something we'd need to be ready for. Me, Callahan, the other hunters, we've been working on a plan to keep the entire village safe, even if something big comes through."

"And it's time to put those plans into place."

Ryme flinched in surprise, but Caden couldn't bring himself to pretend to be surprised. He calmly turned to regard the tall, ragged man standing in Ryme's doorway.

"It's time?" Caden asked.

Storyteller nodded. "We need to get you back to Elliven, now."

Caden stood up, blowing out a long breath. "Alright. Mom…"

Before he could even turn back to her, Ryme had wrapped Caden in a hug tight enough to show just how much the gift of the bear had improved her strength at Adept. "Be safe," she said, her voice a tight whisper. "And… I'm proud of you."

Caden swallowed, his own throat suddenly tight. "Thank you," he told her, trying to fit as much of his love as he could into the two words. "You still have my waystone, right?"

Ryme, her head still buried into his shoulder, nodded. "On the mantle."

"Good. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Caden," Storyteller said, his voice urgent.

Caden sighed–and after one more long moment, he broke off the hug, stepping back from his mother. "You stay safe too!"

Ryme tried for a smile, but the expression was too sad to really be any relief to Caden. "Don't worry. We've got some tricks of our own ready." Her eyes shifted. "Storyteller."

"You know what to do, Mistress Ryme."

"I do. But you better keep them safe this time, you hear me? If I find out you ditched my child again, I don't care how mysterious and powerful you are, I'll come for you!"

Storyteller's mouth twitched into a grim smirk of his own. "Understood," he agreed.

Caden blew out another long breath, then he took a step to Storyteller's side. "Here we go," he told himself.

Then space seemed to bend, and they were somewhere else.

#

It was easier to get into the dark castle than Tenebres expected, with neither he nor Dillen encountering any further attacks as they proceeded into the massive structure.

Dillen knew his way through the halls better than Tenebres, having been raised among the High Court, and he led them briskly through a circuitous path, keeping away from the straightest and fastest ways through the Castle, and the outsiders that would no doubt be using them.

It wasn't until approaching voices forced the two boys to duck into an empty, pitch black room that they found out just why the place was so empty.

"The forces are spread out as the Sister Superior requested," a scratching, grating voice said. Tenebres recognized the voice of a legion hag.

The hag that replied had one unlike any he'd heard before, though. Her voice was a tempting whisper, begging for him to lean closer so that he could better hear her breathy words. "Good," that disturbingly attractive voice said. "We have no need for our soldiers inside the Castle itself," she explained, apparently answering some unspoken question. "Xerelna will ensure that the humans are distracted by the bedlam in their city before she sends us through to cut..."

The voices trailed off as the hags got farther away from the door Tenebres and his friend were hiding behind, but he had heard plenty. The outsider army was positioned in the city, ready to be sent, no doubt, into the most exposed parts of the city. And once the sentinels responded there, the rest of the coven would be able to cross over into Highcastle itself, right into the laps of the Court.

"We need to keep moving," Tenebres whispered.

Dillen's dark eyes were wide and serious, but he didn't protest. Those two hags were their best chance to find where the coven would be performing their ritual. Tenebres would need to be as close as he could before he tried to move them between worlds–he was still vague on how exactly he'd manage that at all, but proximity could only help.

Silently, the two mages slipped out of the empty room they had occupied, trailing distantly after the two hags, following the sounds of their voices deeper into the reaches of the Darkcastle.

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