The Last Experience Point

“So any time you’re getting low, instead of letting go, just remember that ant. Oops there goes another rubber tree plant” – Frank Sinatra

Chapter 73: The Ant

Given that he was only seventeen and lacked the life experience of someone two or three times his age—or in the case of Olivir, someone more than twelve times his age—Zach was by no means the arbiter of what was and wasn’t “normal.” He simply hadn’t lived long enough to state with any kind of authority whether or not something was actually unprecedented, and this was doubly true for matters concerning adventuring and leveling. Yet, even with that being the case, he would still bet his life, his dignity, and all the gold he had left from the Moldark boss fight that the commotion taking place around him was so completely out of the ordinary that nothing like it had ever happened before. To call it “unusual” just wouldn’t be going far enough. Right now, along with the salty-smelling ocean breeze, the air was filled with the sound of so many powerful people shouting at so many other powerful people that Zach struggled to come to grips with the fact that this was really happening, let alone make sense of it all. And they were doing this while crowded together around a dirty, wooden, and portable outdoor bathroom that literally served as an exit portal to a subterranean dungeon floor on the opposite side of the planet.

This is definitely not normal, he thought to himself. No way.

Too much was happening simultaneously, and it was all taking place fast enough to leave him feeling dazed. Or maybe that was just the heat starting to get to him. His eyes beginning to sting, he shook his head, and the motion caused several beads of sweat to whip off his face and land onto the sand. Given the scorching temperature, he was surprised the droplets didn’t evaporate on the way down. Gods, it was so disastrously hot outside today. It was difficult to believe that, not even an hour ago, he’d been shivering and clutching himself as the vicious winter winds on Archian Prime had made his fingers tingle and go numb. In fact, both his hands were still red from the exposure to the cold. Yet here he was, such a short time later, and he would actually pay to have one of those punishingly icy blasts of frigid air come howling across the beach. He needed to cool off. Mischievously, he wondered if it would be a bad idea to tear off his tunic right in front of everyone and run into the ocean for a swim. Sure, the situation was urgent, but it wasn’t like their precious time wasn’t already being wasted anyway on pointless bickering—or rather, pre-bickering. Technically speaking, the real bickering hadn’t even started. No, what was happening here was even worse than that.

I can’t believe how stupid this is, he thought, filling with resentment.

What Zach found so crazy and, to be honest, frustrating, was that no one was actually arguing about the numerous underlying issues that formed this headache-inducing mess. As bad as it was to have to deal with this now of all times, it would at least be understandable if the conversations being had were of substance. But instead, everyone was currently engaged in some kind of pre-negotiation negotiation; specifically, they were debating who on this beach was allowed to leave and who needed to be forced to stay behind as like a…like a temporary “political hostage” or something. Honestly, it was just pure stupidity through and through, especially since that Gods-cursed dragon was drawing nearer by the second. They didn’t have the luxury of messing around right now, and Olivir in particular could not afford to be jammed up in some surreal standoff with the queen and her Elvish warriors: not if he could actually do what he claimed, and Zach did not doubt that he could.

In order to fulfill the desperate need for more time and give everyone some breathing room, Olivir was apparently going to temporarily subdue the dragon by putting it to sleep—or at least that was what he and Zach had been just about to set off to do. But then Queen Vayra had put a halt to things, and right now, it wasn’t clear that she was willing to let the vampire peacefully leave. In fact, she wasn’t okay with Zach, Kolona, or even Kalana running off either while things between her and them were still “unresolved.” The very idea of it had set off a firestorm of heated debate along with a widely varying mess of contradictory emotions. Depending on who was saying what, there were notes of anger, joy, sadness, frustration, but incredibly enough, there was also a degree of optimism as various individuals—many with their own, competing interests—all shouted and tried to be heard over one another.

“Your Majesty, please, there’s no time for this,” Mr. Oren said, somehow managing to make himself heard. “I understand that you have numerous…conflicts with individuals here, but we’re in a moment of crisis right now. If you’d at least let us delay the dragon, it would make resolving things a great deal easier. Olivir, Zach, and Kolona have all given their word that they will return afterwards and not flee.”

Rather than reply to him directly, Fylwen seemed content to allow a young, brown-haired Elvish girl to speak on her behalf. “The queen is not about to fall for human trickery,” she said. “How stupid do you think we are? If we let the vampire and Kolona leave here before settling things, there’s no way they’ll come back willingly.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Olivir asked, his upper lip peeling back angrily and revealing his fangs.

“I’m saying you humans play games with the truth.”

“Okay, but uhm, you do realize your queen is more dishonest than any human, right?”

“It’s true,” Kolona said, her face peering out from behind Eldora’s body. She’d been sheltering behind her uncle, as it was clear that, if there was anyone here Fylwen wanted to kill above all else, it was her. “My aunt lies and betrays people. And she murders without remorse. She started a war with Oli just because he brought me back to life.”

“Well maybe he should not have involved himself in our affairs!” another of her warriors shouted. He was a short, but athletic-looking Elf with a large shield and a curved sword. “I’m sure the queen had her reasons. And if you were supposed to be dead, you should have stayed that way. Now we have to work twice as hard.”

Eldora’s eyes widened in rage and indignation almost immediately after the Elf had finished speaking. “Threaten my niece again, and I’ll rip your head from your shoulders and kick it into the ocean!”

The remark also provoked an even greater response from Kalana. She growled, and it was only due to Zach grabbing her wrist and pulling her back towards him that she didn’t end up leaping at the Elf with her daggers drawn. Thankfully, she didn’t yank her arm free of his grasp. Kalana was ridiculously higher level than Zach was, and he was well aware that he couldn’t actually stop her if she decided to attack.

“I’m fine,” she said, even as she glared hatefully at her mother and several of the Elves. “Don’t worry.”

Zach trusted her, and so he released her. She then hurried back over to her cousin as if fearful one of the Elves might try their luck and attack even with Eldora guarding her. For the moment, though, they were remaining right where they were. This, as more voices became raised and tempers flared elsewhere.

As the bickering intensified, Zach darted his eyes around, noticing that several “sides” had now formed. To Zach’s right, and closest to the outdoor, portable restroom, were Kalana, her father, and Kolona; across from them were the fifty Elvish warriors along with Queen Vayra, who stood with her hands on her hips and her chin in an elevated position as she both berated and was in turn berated by Peter Brayspark. Zach, for his part, had grouped together with Rian, Olivir, Lienne, Grundor, and the numerous adventurers who had shown up here to support him.

Finally, across from him, and not far from the shoreline, were various high-ranking members from several different political guilds. In total, there had to be about thirty of them, give or take a few, with almost all being ornately attired in button-up suits and dress shoes. Of this group, the members of the Royal Roses stood out the most, as each of them had a dimly glowing red rose on the lapel of their suit which made them easy to identify. The rest were a mix of people from Lords of Justice, Children of Order, People of Virtue, and Defenders of Peace. There were also several-dozen staff who were frantically shuffling all over the place doing Gods-knew-what as they moved around, speaking quietly to one another as well as to other political guild members, adventurers, and even a few of the Elves. But for the most part, they were practically invisible, almost as if by design. Zach guessed the vast majority—if not all of them—were level-1, unlike the political guild members they served.

There’s so many high-ranking people here. And Mr. Oren says there’s more of them at the camp.

Even though Zach had little idea what most of their names were—or what they actually “did” as far as politics went—he sort of recognized a select few of them, either from happening to see them on the news every now and again, or from watching them compete in the yearly tournaments, which until recently had been the only way that Zach—along with most of humanity—could experience anything from the world of leveling, guilds, and mobs.

Generally speaking, Zach could both visually recognize and correctly name the leader and second-in-command of any major human political guild—and so could just about everybody, as that much was common knowledge taught in school. Really, it would be weird for someone not to know at least that much. Then there was your average “informed” human who could probably name the third or perhaps the fourth. But only those who paid close enough attention to politics knew the names of those even lower down the chain, as the lower in rank, the more esoteric the knowledge became. Only political nerds and guild fanboys knew who the fifth-highest ranked, sixth-highest ranked, and so on were. And so, other than a passing familiarity with just a few faces here or there, Zach did not recognize the rest of them—except for Abram Gespon and Peter Brayspark, of course, but also one other in particular. He was a man that anyone would know assuming they didn’t live under a rock. Even someone as tuned out of politics as Zach could identify him right away, as he was the second-in-command of the Royal Roses: Senior-Lieutenant Haisel Ragora. He was constantly on the news these days to talk about the war effort against the Guild of Gentlemen, which he was apparently leading.

He was a tall, intimidating-looking figure in his early forties with short black hair, broad shoulders and a thick, full beard that went well with his overall larger frame. He stood with a rigid, almost militaristic posture, his hands folded behind his back and his attention focused on the Elves before him—at least until he caught Zach staring at him. For a brief moment, he flicked his eyes in Zach’s direction. Becoming anxious, Zach chose to look away rather than meet his gaze. Then he chided himself for it. It was hard not to be intimidated when unexpectedly locking eyes with a powerful world leader that, just a few weeks ago, Zach could never have imagined himself being anywhere in the vicinity of. And that wasn’t even the whole of it, either; apparently, the leaders of the guilds themselves were also going to show up. Mr. Oren had informed Zach just a few seconds earlier that, not only were the guild leaders of each North Bastian guild coming in person, but most of them had just landed moments ago and would be making their way over to the raid camp imminently.

“Are you sure?” Zach asked him.

“One-hundred percent,” Mr. Oren said. “Trust me, I had a difficult time believing it, too. Oh, and…”

“…and what?” Zach asked. The sudden shift in Mr. Oren’s tone and posture made him uneasy. And it certainly didn’t help that his former science teacher was now fixing him with a stern, totally unexpected gaze that caused Zach’s body to stiffen. He could actually sense that he wasn’t going to like what Mr. Oren was about to say. “What is it? Just tell me.”

“They want to meet you, Zach.”

“They what?” Zach blurted out a bit too loudly, which drew a bunch of unwanted attention to himself. Now, he was forced to direct a stupid, innocent smile at the handful of Elves who turned to look suspiciously at him. Then he waited for them to look away before he continued to speak, and when he did, he dropped his voice lower so that he couldn’t be overheard.

“They want to meet me?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been informed personally.”

“Are you sure they meant me?”

“Yes,” Mr. Oren said, “they meant you, Zach.”

Zach rubbed his eyes, both out of a sense of disbelief and also to rid himself of the sweat pooling on his lids. “That makes no sense.”

“Sense or no sense, they want to meet you.”

“Can I refuse?”

“Ordinarily, not only would I tell you that you can indeed refuse, Zach, but I’d even advise you to do so.”

“But not this time?”

Mr. Oren sighed. “Not this time. The situation is…complicated.”

“I’ll bet it is,” Zach muttered under his breath.

He stirred uneasily; still a bit run-down from his E-debt, his feet had trouble remaining balanced on the sand to begin with, and now he was agitated on top of it all. It made it so that Zach had to struggle just to remain upright. He did not need this right now. As if he didn’t already have enough to be worried or nervous about, he now had to consider this in addition to everything else? He’d only just found out that he needed to come face to face with Ziragoth again, and already, another bomb had been dropped on him. He, Zachys Calador, was actually going to have to introduce himself to some of the most important people on the planet: the guild leaders who ruled over more than a billion North Bastian lives. Gods-be-damned, give him a break!

Just the thought of meeting them caused his stomach to become upset and his throat to dry. He was not looking forward to making their acquaintance: especially Vim Alazar, the guild leader of the Royal Roses. Every time Zach had ever seen that guy on TV, he came across as such a dick. And Zach was kind of a dick, too, but only sort of and not all the time. This guy, though? He was a round-the-clock asshole—at least if his TV personality was anything to go by. Gods, Zach did not want to meet the guild leaders. The idea of being around such important people was making him nauseous.

Curiously, though, Zach wondered why he didn’t feel this way in the presence of Peter Brayspark. He suspected it was probably due to the fact that he’d already made the tall, regally handsome “king’s” acquaintance in the hospital after his run-in with Ziragoth. But there was more to it, too. Peter seemed different from his peers in a way that Zach could only sort of describe. There was just this… this intense level of passion that the man radiated, and it was something that Zach really didn’t see much of from other members of political guilds. That wasn’t all, either; he also came across as more genuine and sincere in what he claimed to believe and feel.

Peter was currently standing in more or less the general vicinity of the others from the political guilds, but in his case, he remained slightly apart from the rest of them and somewhat by himself as if to signal that he was here in his own capacity and not as part of their collective. Of all the humans here on this beach, he stood closest to Fylwen, and the two seemed laser-focused on one another in what felt like an odd cross between dark animosity and something bizarrely close to sibling rivalry.

“Enough of this!” he snapped in response to something that Zach did not quite catch. He snarled at Fylwen. “Even just the suggestion that a ‘negotiation’ is required for a human to engage in free travel whilst within my territory is offensive and unacceptable.” His high-level Valkyries fanned out beside him, and despite clearly being non-sentient NPCs, they somehow still came across as eager for battle. It was in the way their armor-covered hands hovered near the gleaming blades sheathed in scabbards at their sides.

“Don’t speak to me of territory,” Fylwen replied. “Or should I remind you that one of your humans invaded my territory.”

Her words caused Zach to immediately look around questioningly, and he spotted the same confusion in the eyes of Rian and Lienne that he knew must have been present in his own.

Is she talking about me? She is, isn’t she?

Zach opened his mouth to challenge her bullshit lie, but before he could speak a word, he felt a pinch on his shoulder from Mr. Oren, who shook his head no. Grunting to himself, Zach decided to keep his mouth shut for the time being. It wasn’t easy. The woman was a snake, and unlike her daughter, her beauty was only skin deep. Her elegant gown, fancy rings, multiple gold-and-diamond necklaces, and noble, perfectly upright posture gave her a far more dignified appearance than she had any right to display—at least in Zach’s heavily biased opinion, anyway. Every time she spoke, it gave him a foul taste in his mouth. And while he despised the political guilds just the same as any other adventurer, Zach was glad to see that Peter did not appear intimidated by her and was willing to challenge her lies in his stead.

As shameful as it was, Zach found himself secretly rooting for the man as he narrowed his eyes at Fylwen and stood defiantly before her. “Is that so? Invaded, you say?”

“That’s correct.”

“Is it now?” he asked, tapping his chin. “That’s interesting. Having only just heard the tale mere moments ago, that seems to be an outlandish misrepresentation of the facts. As I hear it, what you now describe as an ‘invasion’ was a direct request for aid from a member of humanity: one that was subsequently granted. And upon the completion of this most charitable display of kindness and gallantry, you saw fit to betray and murder the very same human whom you begged for succor. Is that not the way of it, Your Majesty?”

“That’s also the truth,” she stated bluntly, though there was a slight tremble in her shoulders. “I won’t deny my actions.”

As terrifying, humiliating, and painful as her betrayal of him had been, Zach was glad to hear it spoken aloud in an accusatory way. Otherwise, he would have been unable to avoid inserting himself into the conversation. For her to say that he’d “invaded” her land was infuriating. But if nothing else, at least she did not attempt to deny or downplay what she’d done. Without looking Zach’s way, Fylwen’s body became even more rigid, and now she fixed Peter with a hard, unblinking glare. Peter seemed perfectly content to return an even icier one.

At once, he stopped tapping his chin then turned over his right palm. “Well, if that is indeed the case, I must first thank you for admitting it, and secondly, I’d kindly ask you to please round up your Elvish horde, lead them back into whatever hole you crawled out of, and begone from my sight this very instant, you self-aggrandizing, disreputable scoundrel! You are not welcome here.”

Rather than help the situation in any meaningful way, Peter’s words unsurprisingly served to raise the temperature even further. But really? Zach couldn’t even understand why. Sure, he’d called the woman a “disreputable scoundrel,” but that was hardly an insult. If Zach had been the one speaking to Fylwen, he’d have called her a dumb fucking bitch and told her to kill herself, because that was exactly what she was and exactly what he wanted her to do. Zach despised her so much that he doubted he could even speak to her at all without swearing at her in the most profane of terms the moment words escaped his lips.

She’s got me so pissed off, he thought.

The reaction to Peter’s remark was swift and came from every side at once. Immediately, the Elvish warriors flanking Fylwen became heated and defensive. “You dare speak to our queen in such a disrespectful tone?” shouted an older-looking, green-cloaked Elf with short, almost purely gray hair who appeared ready to draw his blade. “You had better mind your words and your manner, or I will mind them for you, Peter.”

“The absolute nerve of him,” said another. “I will not allow the dignity of Her Majesty to be called into question by any human, least of all the son of Peter IV. Apologize to her!”

“Miserable human scum,” growled a third. “The spawn of the devil himself, and yet he wants to talk down to our queen. How dare he even form words from those cursed, tainted lips. He’s as foul as his father.”

Peter reacted with immediate hostility towards the Elves. He curled his nose, and a crease formed on his brow. “Speak ill of my father again, any of you, and I’ll cut your tongues from your mouths!” Then, shocking everyone, including every adventurer, political guild member, and Elf, he abruptly raised his voice and cried, “Valkyries, at the ready!”

All at once, and in perfect harmony, a legion of female voices shouted, “YES, SIR!”

Then the level-150 NPCs straightened their backs, and there was a synchronized clink from their armor as they shifted their stance so that they stood at attention with their feet close together. Zach raised both his eyebrows in awe but also in envy as he desperately wanted whatever item, ability, or piece of gear it was that had allowed Peter to conjure forth something so incredible. Turning his head, he noticed that Rian also appeared to be equally as jealous, although in the case of his deviant friend, he knew that Rian would have other plans for the Valkyries aside from using them in combat.

Despite a moment of stunned disbelief that brought an immediate, albeit short-lived end to the ambient shouting, the Elvish warriors were quick to get over their surprise and almost seemed to grow even more eager to lock blades with Peter V as a result of his brashness and defiance.

“We do not fear you, human king,” one of the green-cloaked Elves said with a great deal of pain and emotion in his voice. “Your threats do not frighten us as your father’s did, and they never shall again. Come! Cut off my tongue if you think you can. I challenge you right here on this beach. Just try and—”

“All right, all right, let’s all just take a step back,” said Abram Gespon, marching over to where Peter and Fylwen were standing practically nose-to-nose. “This is getting us nowhere.” He paused a second to adjust his tie and smoothen a wrinkle in his slacks. Then he continued to amble towards them.

Zach watched as he intervened just as things seemed poised to reach a boiling point. Somehow, the man had ended up becoming the unofficial referee here. The moment he strode over to Peter, placed a hand on his shoulder, and then nodded his head at the queen, things began to deescalate straight away, if only slightly. The deference showed to him by the other guilds was intriguing, and Zach wondered why he appeared to be so highly regarded. If he paid more attention to politics or the news, he’d probably already know. But he didn’t, and so he was in the dark about why most of the other guilds seemed willing to let this man call the shots. Well, aside from the Guild of Gentlemen, who was currently at war with the People of Virtue. This was made evident as Peter aggressively slapped away his hand and glared at him. But Abram appeared to pay it no heed, even gesturing to his own guild-members to disregard it.

It only just then occurred to Zach that, despite this being a region controlled by the Guild of Gentlemen, Peter, the guild’s leader, was the only member of his guild present. He had not called upon any of his own members for support.

I wonder why.

As Zach watched Abram Gespon approach Queen Vayra, he was actually taken aback by the sheer, audacious confidence in the man’s gait as he fearlessly walked right up to her and smiled. Having only briefly introduced himself a short moment prior, he was now boldly putting himself within range of a person who could likely rip the lungs out of his throat with minimal effort. Zach couldn’t believe the level of self-certainty he seemed to display. If there existed any fear or concern within him whatsoever, he did not let even the slightest bit of it show on his face.

For some reason, Donovan, who was standing to Zach’s right, began to cross his arms and mutter words under his breath that were so vicious that even Zach wouldn’t use them. “You seem to really not like this guy,” Zach whispered to him.

“I don’t,” Donovan whispered back. “And you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

Donovan grunted. “’Cause that’s the guy who put that bounty on your head.”

“Wait, what?” Zach asked, becoming confused, irritated, and irate all at the same time. He pointed to Abram Gespon, the man in the incredibly expensive suit who was third-in-command of the People of Virtue. “That guy? I don’t even know him. What’d I ever do to him?”

“It’s not what you did to him,” Mr. Oren said a moment before Donovan could reply. “It’s what Donovan did to him.”

Suddenly, the look on Donovan’s face went from one of white-hot anger to something that actually reminded Zach of Fluffles whenever he did something he wasn’t supposed to do but was trying to hide it. He made an impish, but somehow hearty laugh. “Yeah, that one was kinda’ my bad.”

Zach leaned his head to the side. “What’d you do?”

Once again, it was Mr. Oren who answered. “I actually told you once before, Zach. Do you remember? It was back during your very first trip to Angelica’s.”

Zach took a moment to recall the time in question, then nodded. “Yeah, you said that Donovan went over and…” Zach gasped. “Wait, that’s the guy? That’s the guy whose desk you threw out of a window?”

“Yep,” Donovan said. He made another hearty chuckle as he rubbed his own head and shrugged. “Fucker pissed me off, so I smashed his office up a bit.”

Zach released an exhale that gradually turned into a moan. “When Mr. Oren told me the story, he just told me you upset ‘a political guild member’. He never said it was the Gods-damned third-in-command of People of Virtue.”

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Oren said. “There’s no bounty on you anymore. That’s all done with now.”

“Well, yeah, I know. I’m just…ah, never mind.”

The fact Zach didn’t even care all that much was a testament to how off-the-rails his life had become. He had so many other pressing issues to worry about that someone having once tried to have him killed—almost succeeding, too—was not even something he could afford to think about anymore. Hell, it might not even make a top-10 list of “worst shit to happen to Zach” at this point. Rather than dwell on it, he instead focused all his attention on Abram’s interaction with the queen.

He looks way too sure of himself.

Zach watched, somewhat stunned, as Queen Vayra appeared to size up the man standing before her, who unless Zach was misreading the situation, had deliberately chosen this moment to finally exchange words with her. It was almost as though he’d consciously chosen to allow a degree of bickering to take place before making his move.

“What do you want, human?” Fylwen asked him with an annoyed, dismissive tone of voice.

With total confidence, he smiled at her. “Your Majesty, I’d hoped we could speak sooner, but I tried to hold off awhile on interrupting you and Sir Peter Brayspark. I introduced myself briefly to you before. Once again, I am Sir Abram Gespon the Virtuous, but I have no problem with you calling me Abe if it so pleases you.” He paused, likely to draw a breath, then continued. “As it so happens, Your Majesty, I am with a guild called ‘the People of Virtue’. I am a senior lieutenant, and I—”

“I know who you are,” Fylwen interrupted coldly. “You do know I was born on Galterra, right? I lived here until shortly after the birth of my daughter. I am not a stranger to this world.”

Despite the woman showing clear signs of irritation, the look on Abram’s face seemed to be one of delight. He rubbed his hands together. “Is that right? Wow, wonderful. Okay, so in that case, I don’t need to waste your time explaining things, correct? Absolutely wonderful. So, Your Majesty, I can assume, then, that you know about the Royal Roses, the People of Virtue, the Children of Order, and so on, yes?”

Fylwen’s single-worded reply came across as both annoyed and impatient. “Yes.”

“That’s just perfect,” Abram said. Then, in the same instant, he closed his eyes, smiled, and nodded all at the same time, creating a look of joyful satisfaction that confused the hell out of Zach. Exactly what was he trying to do? Whatever it was, no one seemed to intervene or challenge him. Not even members of his own guild. Did he really know what he was doing?

Even as Queen Vayra grew visibly more irked, Abram Gespon took his time before continuing to speak. Slowly, he half turned around and extended his left arm in the direction northwest of the city. “We are so happy that someone of your stature and elegance has graced humanity,” he said to her. “We are honored to have you here, and although we aren’t capable of accommodating you in Dal’Zarrah due to an imminent threat, we have prepared a feast deserving of your greatness, as well as some gifts, fine wine, and other treasures. It would be my honor if you could accompany me to our camp so that we can have discussions in a more dignified location. More so than this beach, at any rate. My guild leader, as well as the guild leaders of all of North Bastia will be waiting there to greet you, as well as the media, eager to show the world your stunning beauty.”

Fylwen paused a moment, likely to take in everything he’d just said. At least, that was what Zach assumed she was doing, because it was what he was doing. What exactly was going on here? Abram, for his part, did not hurry or rush along the woman at all. He merely waited patiently for her to mull over what he’d said to her. Finally, after several more seconds of silence, Fylwen twisted her hips and craned her neck to look at several of the faces of the Elvish warriors she’d brought along here with her. Then, quickly, she once more faced in Abram’s direction. And with that, she released a short bout of loud, mocking, and dismissive laughter.

“Why would I do that, human? Why in the name of the Gods? Truly, I should send your head to your guild leader in a box just for wasting my time—and for speaking to me so cordially as though we are well acquainted enough for you to behave this way.”

It was at this point that Zach became completely, totally lost. Because even as she regarded Abram with an open mixture of scorn, ridicule, and even violent intention, the level of confidence and certainty in the man’s eyes seemed to explode. Rather than react with even the slightest bit of defensiveness or concern for his own safety, Abram held up his pointer finger and laughed merrily as he tapped it against the air.

“You know what? You probably should,” he said with another laugh. “I can’t stand me either.”

“You…what?” Flywen asked.

And then he did it. Zach, who had never witnessed anything like this before in his life, did not know what Abram was doing or how he knew to do it, and yet he could almost visualize the imagery of a trigger being pulled as Abram Gespon cleared his throat, again adjusted his tie, and then smirked at the Elvish queen.

“I’m going to level with you here, Your Majesty,” he said, drawing a breath, holding it, and then releasing it slowly. “You could indeed kill me. Perhaps easily, too. But…” He shrugged. “You’re not going to.”

“Oh? And why is that, human?”

“Because I have an offer for you. An offer you’re going to accept.”

Upon his words, Fylwen made a bizarre, almost comical series of facial expressions. At first, she frowned—or at least she attempted to frown. But instead, she slightly pursed her lips and tilted her head. It was like she was so confused that she couldn’t even be angry. It was as though she wanted to react with hostility, but the man’s borderline suicidal confidence had blown her mind.

“How can you even say these things to me?” she asked eventually. “Do you not…understand who you’re speaking with?”

“Of course I do, Your Majesty.”

“Do you? Truly?”

Abram nodded. “Of course. And for me to be standing in front of you right now, you must realize there are only two possibilities. One: I am an idiot who has no idea the level of danger I’ve just put myself in. Or two: I am someone with an offer for you that is so absurdly, ridiculously, irresistibly good that it wouldn’t even be possible for you to refuse. An offer so lucrative on the table that you would have to be clinically insane not to accompany me back to our camp as an honored, esteemed, and cherished guest in order to accept.”

Of all things, Fylwen’s lips slowly transitioned into a grin. “It would have to be something truly spectacular, wouldn’t it?”

“It sure would,” Abram said, the grin now becoming reflected on his own face. “Something I know you want. Something you would want badly enough to give me something that I want.”

“And what is it you want, Sir Gespon the Virtuous,” she said, shockingly using his formal title. This, Zach did not see coming.

He placed his hands together, palms pressing into one another. “Your Majesty, on behalf of all of humanity, I would like to request from you the following: the release and pardoning of Zachys Calador and his companions for any crimes committed against Elvish kind, and secondly, for you and your Elves to help us deal with our dragon problem.”

Zach widened his eyes, Lienne gasped, Olivir scowled, and Mr. Oren adjusted his cat-eye glasses with a trembling finger. Without even bothering to ask, Zach could tell that neither he nor anyone else here had been expecting to hear what they’d just heard. He wasn’t even sure how to respond to it: or if he could respond to it. He wasn’t even certain that he’d actually heard Abram correctly. That second request of his was so shocking that Zach couldn’t even bring himself to be angry over the insinuation that he needed to be “pardoned” from something that “he” did. Instead, all he could do was continue to watch as though hypnotized as Fylwen not only took his request in stride, but began rubbing her chin with a grin on her face.

In a complete, total one-eighty from the start of the conversation, the more this man spoke to her, the further from anger she now became. Whatever it was that Abram Gespon was doing, it was working. Zach reckoned he was luring her in, but he also assumed that she knew she was being lured in—and was okay with it for some reason.

What can he possibly have for her? Diamonds? Money? I don’t get it.

“To not only approach me as you have,” Fylwen said, “but to ask for me to put my own kin in harm’s way to save human lives. Oh, what a price that would have. What a magnificent price indeed. You must know this, yes?”

“Of course.”

“And what could you possibly have to offer me?”

“If you’d please accompany me back to the camp, I would be happy to discuss that with you. Furthermore, if what I have to offer does not meet your expectations, then I implore you to simply cut off my head for wasting your time, as you implied earlier.”

“You’re that confident?” she asked, her eyes growing wide.

He nodded. “You will want this.”

“Well then, I suppose I can hear what you have to say.”

Abram clapped his hands together. “Fantastic. You, and all your Elvish companions, will be treated with the utmost of respect and served only the finest wine and food that Galterra has to offer. We’ve already prepared for your arrival. There is just one thing, however…”

Queen Vayra rolled her eyes. “Let me guess: you need me to give the vampire boy, the consort, and my niece leave to make this dragon have a little nap, yes?”

Abram laughed. “That’s correct, Your Majesty.”

“I am a generous and fair woman. I will allow it.” And just like that, the two of them began to walk slowly away along the beach.

Even as mystified, skeptical, and astonished as he currently was, Zach nevertheless still breathed out a sigh of relief as he observed the two of them calmly sauntering together along the beach—as did almost every adventurer nearby him. At the same time, Donovan gave him a firm nod of the head. Without even speaking a word, Zach somehow understood everything the leader of the GSG wanted to say through that one, brief nod. He was reminding Zach that, as shocking as all this was, it was not his responsibility right now. He was to focus on the dragon and only the dragon until it was dealt with. How Zach could derive all of that from a single glance, he did not know. The fact he understood it at all amazed him. But he was sure of it.

“Olivir,” Donovan said. “Are you ready? It’s time for us to go.”

Olivir gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll summon some mounts for us to—”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Queen Vayra said, stopping in her tracks while looking directly at Zach as she spoke. Abram, who had been walking alongside her, also came to an abrupt halt as the queen pointed in his direction.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

She narrowed her eyes at Zach. “I don’t want that boy going anywhere near my daughter anymore. Any deal we reach must include a provision barring that human from any continued contact with my child. She is not yet of legal age, and as her mother, even your own laws and customs allow me this right. I want you to keep your human away from my kin.”

“The fuck?” Zach screamed at her, the words bursting out of him so loudly and so uncontrollably that he hadn’t even been aware that he was the one who’d shouted them until after they’d already filled the stifling summer air.

In a matter of seconds, his heartrate spiked, his adrenaline began pumping through his veins, his emotions took hold over his senses, and a rage so terrible it frightened him blasted away any semblance of control that he had over himself. All around him, he could see shock, confusion, and worry—worry that was directed at him. Particularly from the political guilds. Did they think he was going to break the peace? Because they were right. He was definitely going to break the peace. He didn’t even care. Fuck everything. Seriously, fuck everything and everyone. He’d had enough. There was no way he’d agree to this. He wouldn’t even consider it.

Opening his mouth, Zach prepared himself to release a string of vulgarities so vile and ugly that ten generations of Elves would remember he’d said them to their queen. He was going to dig deep and unleash the absolute meanest, nastiest, angriest—

“Zach, no,” Mr. Oren said to him, his tone uncharacteristically sharp and commanding. Zach caught sight of him in the corner of his eye, and the expression on Mr. Oren’s face was one that he’d only seen once before, when Mr. Oren had warned Seraphina to back off before he’d ultimately killed her. It was as no-nonsense and serious as Mr. Oren got, and as he directed it at Zach, it caused him to hesitate. He swallowed down a lump that had formed in his throat—one that had been built on the rage he planned to vent on Fylwen.

“I get how you’re feeling, kid, but this ain’t the right time,” Donovan added. “We need to put the dragon to sleep.”

“Yeah, but—”

He held up his hand. “Millions of lives are at stake. Millions of lives. I get it. Trust me, I get it.” He lowered his voice so that only those near him could discern what he said next. “I’m not telling you to give a shit or accept what she’s saying. I certainly wouldn’t. What I’m asking you to do is deal with it later. Not now.”

Zach grinded his teeth together and hissed out his frustration as the weight of responsibility came crashing down onto his shoulders. “Why do you even need me? I don’t have a sword anymore. I can’t even fight.”

“It’s not about that,” Spider said, reminding Zach that he was still standing to Zach’s left side.

“What do you mean?”

He spat onto the sand before replying in a whisper. “I don’t know that woman, but I can tell she’s a spiteful bitch. If you don’t agree to her terms, she’ll keep us here and let the dragon raze our world out of some wicked sense of principle.”

“So you’re saying I just give up on Kalana? I just do what she says and—”

“Fuck no,” Donovan chimed in. “No one’s saying that, kid.”

“But you said—”

“I said not to deal with it now.” Speaking at an even lower whisper, he chuckled and said, “After it’s dead, who gives a fuck what deal these political guild hacks make? I sure as shit don’t. You say this woman lied to you and betrayed you, right? Okay, so? Lie and betray her ass right back. Agree to her demands and then elope with your girl. That’s how adventurers do it.”

Zach paused a moment. Donovan was right. He needed not to be short-sighted. Even if he agreed to her terms, he would have no compunction about lying and breaking them. It wasn’t exactly a nice thing to do, but if there was anyone in this world who was not owed honesty or integrity, it was Fylwen. But either way, there was no circumstance in which he would give up on Kalana. That wasn’t happening. It wasn’t even an option. If he had to lie and break an agreement to do so, then whatever. Getting himself back under control, Zach decided to stand down. He needed to be cool. He needed to be smart. He needed to wait things out even if he didn’t want to.

“Okay,” he said. In a few quick strides, he marched over the sand to where Kalana was standing beside her father and Kolona. He reached out and took Kalana’s hand into his own. “Kal, please listen to me. For the time being, we might have to pretend that we…” He blinked. “Kal? What are you…?”

He looked into Kalana’s eyes, only realizing now that she had been eerily quiet through all of this. Though he hadn’t been entirely certain what her reaction to all this would be, he’d expected fury to be a part of it. He also expected there to be pain, perhaps even disbelief or shock. But what he saw when he looked at her was only an extreme level of frustration. Of all possible reactions, Kalana merely appeared cross: annoyed, even. Did she understand what was happening here? Still holding her hand in his own, he tried to think of what to say to her, but she beat him to it.

“Shh,” she said. “Ignore what my mom just said.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Ignore it. Pretend you never even heard it. It doesn’t matter what she says. I’m not gonna listen, so you shouldn’t, either.”

“Kal…”

Fylwen, deciding to involve herself in the conversation, frowned at her daughter and gestured at her. “Kalana, get away from him.”

Kalana snapped her head in her mother’s direction, her teeth bared. “Um, do you seriously think I’m gonna listen to anything you say? Or even care? I dunno why everyone is taking this so seriously. Especially you, Zach. She doesn’t get to tell us what we can do. She’s nothing. Ignore her!”

Zach looked around nervously, searching for guidance in his friends’ faces, but this time around, they came up blank. Even Mr. Oren seemed to be caught with indecision as things became ever more complicated. At a whisper, Zach said, “Kal, I need to talk to you privately.”

“Nah-uh! I know what you wanna say, Zach.”

“No, it’s not what you think. I’d never break up with—”

“Duh,” she said, speaking conversationally and at a volume that her mother could plainly overhear. “You wanna trick my mom and be together in secret or just get back together after the dragon dies, right?”

Zach croaked. “W-what? That’s ridiculous.” As he spoke, he tried to give her a very serious look indicating for her to stop talking before it was too late. Was she out of her mind? What did she think she was doing? At the very least, he tried to get her to lower her voice, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Your friends came up with that plan, right? Right?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Okay, well my plan is to ignore whatever they’re saying and my mom is saying. You gotta side with one of us. Who’s it gonna be?”

The decision came easy. Far, far easier than it likely should have. It didn’t even require any convincing or arguing on the part of Kalana. With a firm shake of his head, Zach said, “You, always.” Then he turned around and looked fiercely into the eyes of Donovan. “On second thought, I’m sticking with Kalana. I don’t care what the queen says.”

Mr. Oren and Donovan both reacted at the same time, and their reactions were so wildly opposite it was actually difficult to believe. Mr. Oren frowned, and then a heat entered his eyes, as well as a stark disappointment that would have bothered Zach if not for the fact that he felt an explosion of courage from within as Kalana kissed his cheek and clung to his arm.

Donovan, on the other hand, merely barked out a laugh and shrugged. “All right, whatever. Fuck it. Let the thing destroy the planet. If that’s what’s meant to be, then let it happen.”

“I’m with you, bud,” Rian said, hurrying over to him. Lienne accompanied, and then so too did Olivir and Grundor, all four signaling their support of him. Olivir in particular gave him a pat on the back. “I’ve done worse to be with an Elvish chick,” he said, winking at Kolona, who giggled.

“I’m with you as well, Zach,” Eldora said. “My wife doesn’t get to dictate who my daughter can be with. If we need to carve a path through her, we’ll do it.”

Fylwen’s entire face contorted into a vengeful, raged scowl, which she directed first at Zach, then at Donovan, and finally at Abram. “Do something,” she said. “Convince them.”

Once more, Abram surprised Zach. Despite the fact that this could not possibly be the way he wanted things to go, there wasn’t even a trace of unease or disappointment in his eyes. He even yawned. The man actually yawned. “I’m afraid I can’t,” he said. “Ah, excuse me.” He covered his mouth as he finished his yawn.

“You…can’t?”

He nodded. “On second thought, it looks like we won’t be able to make this offer after all.”

Fylwen bared her teeth at him. “What do you mean? Why would you say that?”

He nodded his head at Zach and Kalana. “Unfortunately, we have already granted your daughter autonomy in a preexisting deal we’ve made with her. We can’t impose our will on her.”

“You…did?”

Again, he nodded. “Correct. We can’t tell her what she can or can’t do. She has also been given Elvish ancestral hunting grounds that are now her domain and hers alone.”

“So that’s how she’s gotten so strong,” Fylwen whispered. “I did not know any of this.”

“No? Hmm. So, are you not aware that your daughter is a world famous icon?”

“She is?”

“She’s a celebrity in her own right,” he explained, briefly telling Fylwen about the social media campaign that had led to her worldwide acceptance.

Upon hearing this, Fylwen beamed with pride, and for just an instant, Zach wondered if maybe she’d been swayed somehow. But the expression soon turned sour, and now, loudly, she said, “I’m glad to hear that. But even still, I’ll not sign any deal if that boy is allowed near my daughter.”

With a casual, shockingly fast bow of his head, Abram said, “You’re right. Oh well, we tried.” And without another word, he began to walk away.

Fylwen, along with her entourage of Elves, all glanced at each other in confusion as they watched the fancily dressed man strut lazily towards where his helicopter had landed on the beach only a few-hundred feet away. “W-wait,” Fylwen said, hurrying after him.

He paused and craned his neck to look behind himself without fully turning around. “Hm?”

“I will handle my own daughter. I’ve decided that we don’t have to…I won’t burden you with that responsibility, human.”

“Are you sure? I’m starting to think that maybe I was mistaken in—”

“No. Do not disrespect me. You said you have an offer for me, and I wish to hear it.”

He smiled. “I see. All right, well, shall we proceed, then?”

He’s really good, Zach thought fearfully. How does he do that?

Fylwen held up her index finger. “Just one moment. I want to have a word with Kalana. Until I do that, I’m not going anywhere—and neither are they,” she said, clearly referring to Zach, Olivir, and Kolona. She gestured at her Elvish warriors. “For now, we are standing down. But I must deal with my daughter first.”

With that, she came hurrying back over. Zach had the sense that he should keep quiet as the queen approached. In a matter of seconds, he found himself uncomfortably close to her. He refused to make eye contact or even acknowledge her presence, however. But he did feel reassured as Kalana squeezed his arm.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered into his ear. He kissed her shoulder blade in response as she clung close to him. He trusted her. Giving him another reassuring squeeze, Kalana then looked up at her mother. “I don’t care what you have to say,” she told her. “I’m going with Zach, and that’s that.”

“Where?” Fylwen asked, now standing mere feet away from Zach. She sounded exasperated. “Where is it you’re going, Kalana? To fight some dragon by yourself? Are you mad?”

“Not to fight it, mom. To put it to sleep and help my friends.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Kalana. And these humans are not your friends.”

“Yes they are! And I’m gonna help them either way, and nothing you say matters. I’m going with Zach.”

“No, no you are not.”

Kalana scowled. “Do you really think you can just waltz back into my life and tell me what I can and can’t do after abandoning dad and me for all these years?”

Fylwen averted her eyes as though she felt some degree of shame. Zach had no idea if it was a genuine expression or an attempt to manipulate her daughter, but even assuming it was real, it was still less than a fraction of the shame she should be feeling.

Her voice becoming simultaneously softer yet firmer, she locked eyes with her daughter and said, “I know I’ve been gone for a very long time, but I did not abandon you. I swear this to the Gods, Kalana. This whole time I’ve been away, I’ve been carving out a life for you: for your father, too, if he is willing to bend the knee and end his hostility towards me.”

“I’ll bend your spine, you abominable beast of a woman!” Eldora shouted. There was absolutely no love in the way he regarded her. Forget a lingering flame—there wasn’t even a puff of smoke. This was a man who despised Fylwen with every fiber of his being and let it show clearly in his actions. “You did leave us,” he said. “For your pathetic revenge quest.”

“Revenge quest?” Kalana asked, her brow furrowing.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“You’ll poison her mind is what you’ll do!” Fylwen shouted, a note of hysteria entering into her voice. “Eldora, you and I will discuss this privately tonight.”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Fylwen. We are done. There is no ‘you and I’ anymore.”

“Oh no? Well, sorry to have to inform you of this, husband, but we are done when I say we’re done. You are mine.”

“No, I am not!”

Rather than continue the back-and-forth, Fylwen returned her attention to her daughter. “Kalana, I am your mother. I will always be your mother. But I have now regained my rightful place as your queen, and you must listen to me.”

Kalana replied immediately and without hesitation. “You’re not my queen,” she said to her mother. “You’re my prey.” There was hatred in her voice, and she narrowed her eyes as she continued to speak. “I’m never gonna forgive you, you got that? I don’t care if you’re my mom, the queen, or the Goddess of creation. I never wanna see you again unless it’s in a coffin. You killed Zach. You killed Kolona!”

“This…this isn’t the place to air these very personal grievances, sweetheart,” she said, her voice becoming lower and somewhat desperate. She looked around as though embarrassed, and she sounded hurt and even a little bit afraid. “We can discuss your feelings elsewhere.” Even as she spoke, another few droplets of blood ran down her mouth from where Kalana had socked her, and then it combined with her sweat and dripped off her face. As though noticing this, Kalana winced as if she was the one who’d been decked in the face instead. Seeing her reaction surprised Zach, but only for a brief moment.

She’s still her mother, he thought. No matter what Fylwen did, that’s still her mom.

He had no doubt whatsoever that Kal’s anger and hatred were genuine. He also did not doubt that, at least right now, during a moment of passion, Kalana could be driven to kill Queen Vayra if the situation was allowed to spiral out of hand. Even still, as miserable and terrible as she might be, that woman was still Kalana’s mother, and there was no way Kal didn’t feel at least something more than just rage upon seeing her again. It was almost unthinkable. Maybe Zach was just projecting because he’d lost his own mother and would do anything to see her again, but he had to imagine that there was some part of Kal that either still did or still wanted to love her mom. The same, however, could not be said of Eldora, whose eyes had gone cold, and who Zach was positive would feel nothing but satisfaction at the idea of slitting his estranged wife’s throat.

Having only ever known the two of them as neighbors disguised as humans, Zach didn’t know a whole lot about their past, specifically the relationship between Kal’s mother and her father. For this reason, he didn’t understand why there was such a palpable display of hatred coming from Eldora. It might have been presumptuous of Zach to assume, but clearly, things between the two of them had not been great even before the events that had played out with Zach on Archian Prime. There was more here that he did not know. He hoped Kalana would tell him later—if she was willing, of course.

Or does she even know? he wondered. I don’t think she does.

“All these years,” Kalana said, and now there was hurt in her own voice as well. “All these years, and you never even bothered to tell me or dad you were okay. And then, um, I find out you’re alive, and you do all these horrible things, and that Kolona’s alive, and she thinks I’m a monster.” Kalana released Zach’s arm so that she could wipe her eyes. “Why? Why did you have to be this person and not the mom I always imagined you would be if I ever got to know you?”

Of all the things that Kalana had said so far, that one seemed to strike the hardest—even harder than her fist. Her mother looked as though she’d been run over by a bull-dozing DEHV. Her mouth hung open, but no words left her throat. She merely moved her lips, and if sound was supposed to emerge, it failed to do so.

“We have to get going, Kal,” Zach said to her. “Even if it means fighting your mom. There’s not a lot of time left.”

As much as Zach did not want to encounter Ziragoth a second time, he was starting to feel like he wanted to remain here even less so. The other adventurers joined his side, including Alixa, Maric, and Kesten, and Mr. Oren, who expressed clear disappointment each time he met Zach’s eyes, though he thankfully didn’t look like he was going to bother bringing it up.

“Why don’t we just take Kalana and leave?” Zach whispered to Olivir, who along with Kolona, were now shoulder to shoulder with him.

“Good question,” his vampire friend muttered in reply. “Everyone seems paralyzed because we don’t know how Queen Vayra is going to react. I say we chance it. Let’s just take your girl and go. Leave the others behind if they’re so worried about it. We can make a big explosion and escape during the commotion. The four of us can head to Ziragoth: or rather, five of us with Grundor.”

“By ourselves?” Zach asked nervously. “Don’t we need them?”

“Trust me. We don’t.”

Having spoken very quietly, Zach had no idea how Mr. Oren overheard the two of them, but somehow, his science teacher caught wind of everything they were saying. He turned his head in Zach’s direction and shook it, his look of disappointment becoming even deeper. “Why provoke the queen even further?” he asked. “I realize we’re pressed for time, but things look like they may resolve peacefully on their own. Let Kalana finish having her conversation with her mother. At this point, a few more minutes are worth preventing the situation from turning volatile.”

“The situation’s been volatile!” Zach snapped, causing Fylwen to look his way. He knew he should be quiet, but he was unable to control himself. “Why do you keep acting like it’s not?”

“Because it appears a deal has been reached. And I believe…” He paused as if more carefully considering his wording now that he was speaking loudly enough to be overheard. “I believe that if we allow Her Majesty to finish conferring with her daughter, she will allow us all to go uninhibited. Zach, please, control yourself.”

“No!” he shouted. He was tired of this shit. How much more was he supposed to take? Even against his better judgement, right there, in front of everyone, he pointed his finger angrily at the queen. “She fucking killed me, Mr. Oren. For real! She literally killed me. Let that sink in. I died! I know what death feels like now. I’m seventeen, and I know what it feels like to fucking die! And then…then she chased me back to Galterra so she could do it all over again. And you know why? Do you?”

“Zach, please calm down and—”

“She did it because her fucking dog told her something about me that she didn’t like. She killed me just for that. Doesn’t that mean anything to you, Mr. Oren? Don’t you care? If I was still dead right now, would you even give a shit?”

“Of course I would,” he said.

“Really? Then why do you keep kissing her ass and trying to get me to do what she wants?”

“Because if we fail here due to taking unnecessary risks, a billion people could be scorched alive. And you seem to be more interested in putting short-term concerns over the future of everyone in North Bastia.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Zach, would you please watch your language?” Mr. Oren asked, clearly annoyed. Queen Vayra also appeared annoyed, if not somewhat disinterested, which only heightened Zach’s temper. She regarded him as though he were an insect in need of being crushed. Somehow, he managed to calm himself and hold his tongue. It would reflect poorly on all adventurers if he continued to berate the queen in front of the people from the political guilds, who despite being the scum of the Earth—in Zach’s opinion, anyway—were seemingly making a genuine attempt to restore the peace and sanity here. Zach wasn’t blind to the fact that, right now, the only thing standing in their way was him. Despite already having humiliated himself, he decided to drop it before he did even more damage—or at least he would have. But then Kalana intervened.

“Zach,” she said to him, a tense kind of nervousness coming through on her voice.

“Yeah?”

“What exactly did my mom do?” she asked him. “Tell me what happened. Everything from the moment you snuck out of the hospital, I mean.”

A grunt came from Fylwen. “Kalana, there’s no need for him to—”

“No!” she shouted back at her mother. “I wanna know what you did.”

“You already do, sweetheart. You’ve heard it several times now. I’ve admitted to it. Everyone has heard the events.”

“But I didn’t hear them from Zach. He whispered it to Peter and Alex, and I heard it from them. But I wanna hear it for myself. If…if you’ll tell me, Zach.”

“You’d be happier not knowing.”

Kalana flared her nostrils at him. “That’s what my dad says when he refuses to tell me stuff too. Please, I wanna know.”

“Even with her standing right there in front of us?”

“That’s right,” Kalana said, once more locking eyes with her mother.

Zach took a deep breath. “Fine, but this is the last time I’m ever telling this to anyone ever again. I just want to forget it ever happened.”

As Zach began to recount, with exact specificity, what had taken place on Archian Prime, it was ultimately for the better that Fylwen resided just a few feet before them. Because contrary to everything he’d believed up until this point, he came to discover that she did, in fact, feel shame. She just hid it well. But now that he could closely see her facial expressions as he recalled each detail, he was sure that there was at least some part of her that felt remorse, however little. She was also forced to endure the look on her daughter’s face as Zach held nothing back, telling her exactly what was going through his mind and how it felt to know beyond all doubt that he was going to die. He told Kalana how he had begged Fylwen to let him live. How he had pleaded with her to honor their deal to save his life. He did not hold back on the details to spare himself the shame. He recalled the way he had groveled, and how the last thing he’d felt before death was guilt: guilt that Kalana would never know what happened to him or where he went.

By the time he had finished speaking, the adventurers, who were already on his side to begin with, now looked upon Queen Vayra with a hatred that rivaled Zach’s own, and Mr. Oren, in particular, had completely changed his attitude. Of all the adventurers, his reaction was the starkest. He regarded Zach with a mixture of guilt and sorrow, and towards Fylwen, he cast away any pretense of civility, now glaring openly at her.

“You didn’t even kill him yourself?” he asked her. “You let him die that way?” He shuddered with what Zach took to be disgust. “As awful a deed as it was, you could not even bring yourself to make it quick, could you? And yet, your people still follow you despite this?”

“You’ve no right to judge me,” she said to Mr. Oren, her tone defensive. “I did only what I must.”

But he did judge her. And so did her own Elves. They likely already knew what had happened, as Zach had a fairly good sense that it had spread from person-to-person mere hours after it’d happened. But now that they could hear him tell it for himself, the overt display of revulsion on their faces gave Zach the impression that they had likely not known the full extent of it: of how hard Zach had worked to save their kin, of how much he had taken on to help her. It was to such an extent that, towards the end, when Zach had painfully recounted how, not even two hours ago, he had killed two Elves—something he still had not mentally processed yet but knew he would have to live with for the rest of his life—the Elves did not even seem to look upon him with blame or hatred. Only sadness. Even the political guilds found Fylwen’s actions to be distasteful. It was evident in the way they sent disapproving glances her way whenever her face was not pointed in their direction. They did not give voice to this distaste, however, but Zach would not have expected them to, either.

Ultimately, though, there was absolutely no satisfaction to be gained from this: none at all. In fact, when he had spoken his last word, he came to intensely regret his decision to retell the story in such detail, because it quickly became apparent that hearing what had happened to him had deeply, deeply wounded Kalana. All throughout, she had been shaking her head and muttering the word “no.” He had never seen her cry this way before. He had hurt her so terribly. Did that make it wrong for him to tell her? How much pain did it cause her? She looked to be more hurt over this than he was.

She clung to him and buried her face into his chest, practically soaking his tunic. “I’m so sorry, baby,” she whimpered. “I’m…so sorry. Forgive me.”

“For what?” Zach asked her, genuinely baffled. He stroked her hair.

She squeezed his tunic and looked into his eyes. “For what happened to you.”

“That’s not your fault, Kal.”

“Yeah it is!”

“How?”

“So…so it won’t have to be all my mom’s.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but he thought he understood. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated.

The expression of horror on her mother’s face…it did nothing for him. He thought it would be liberating, but it wasn’t. In particular, she had formed it right around the point in time in which he had described what it felt like to be certain of one’s death. He had explained how, in his final moments, he wanted to live more than anything. How he had been so desperate. The fear. The terror. The feeling of shame. How confused he had been. And yet, despite all of this, Fylwen still did not apologize or vocalize any regret.

Zach did not think it was possible for Olivir and Kolona to hate Fylwen any more than they already did when he’d met them. Although he’d told them the details of what’d happened to him at breakfast before leaving Archian Prime, he’d explained it to them much the same way as he had to Peter and Mr. Oren, describing the events from a factual, broad standpoint. But now, hearing the more detailed retelling of events, he and Kolona appeared to discover that they had still not yet maximized their ability to hate Queen Vayra.

“She’s awful, dude,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault either,” Zach told him. Then he closed his eyes a moment and sighed. “I’m just sick and tired of feeling like an ant.”

“You’re not an ant,” Kalana said to him, removing her face from his tunic and looking up at him.

“I am, though,” he said, as an unbearable desire for power flooded into him. “Just for once, I’d like to be the foot. It must be nice to stomp on everything.”

“You don’t mean that,” she said forcefully and with a surprising, unexpected level or urgency that was completely, totally out of place and proportion with what Zach had actually said. “Take that back right now.”

“Whoah, calm down,” Zach said with a laugh.

“Nah-uh. You can’t go saying things like that.”

“Since when?”

“Since starting now,” Kalana said, making a pouting face that he found adorable. “And never again.”

“Okay,” Zach said with a chuckle. He kissed her. “Never again.”

It was a promise Zach would have no problem keeping. All he had to do was avoid saying a phrase. He was still allowed to think it.

“Queen Vayra,” Zephyr said. He had been quiet up until this point. “If we leave now, will you…”

“Go,” she said, her expressions now hidden behind a mask that looked close to cracking. “I…you win this one. I will hear Abram’s offer. If my daughter is hurt, I will kill everyone here. You won’t have to worry about the dragon.” With that, she turned around and resumed following him to his helicopter. Zach overheard him remark that her Elvish warriors were free to either sprint their way to the camp or wait for limousines, whichever suited their taste. There was enough room for five of them to serve as her armed escorts. As if in a display of strength, she chose to take none with her. Not that it mattered; with their speed, they could arrive well before the helicopter did.

A moment of silence settled over the beach, during which no one said anything as if unsure of what, if anything, could be said. Then, abruptly, Zephyr clapped his hands together and let out a merry-sounding guffaw. “Okay, folks,” he said enthusiastically. “Who’s ready for the hard part? Let’s go buy ourselves some time.”