Laryn staggered out of the crumbling calyx of the voidbloom arena, three voidbuds in tow. His jaw dropped at the carnage laid out before him; gore stained the earth around the bodies of slain voidlings and people.

  He immediately searched for Gaten, but did not see the boy. Had they all died?

  There were too many bodies. Some of them were elves. Arrows protruded from corpses. He tried to map out what had happened here.

  “Laryn!”

  A call from the trees. Laryn searched out the speaker and discovered a group of people huddled in the shade. One of them waved to him.

  He staggered across the battle field, searching the faces of the survivors.

  Lawal and her elves. Gaten, leaning against a tree as his leg was bandaged. Thatch was the one waving to him, seemingly uninjured.

  Ollen, Jarik, and Vand were all there, battered and beaten, but no worse for wear.

  “Fenric?” Laryn asked, and all of them glanced behind him, at the battle field. Fenric lay face down on the ground, arrows protruding from his back.

  “After that thing closed around you, we were ambushed,” Thatch explained.

  “Void cultists,” Ollen put in.

  “They slipped away from us,” Lawal said, approaching.

  Laryn scanned the battlefield again and understood what had happened. The void cult had attacked his men from behind; Lawal had pursued them and driven them out into the open. Nearly a dozen bodies lay in the field. Most of them must have belonged to the cultists.

  “Thank you,” Laryn said, bowing to Lawal.

  “No,” Lawal said. “Thank you, for coming to our aid. We owe you our lives. We would have been overrun by the void, if not for you.”

  “What will you do now?” Laryn asked.

  Lawal surveyed the scene of destruction. “Is my son truly dead?” she asked.

  Laryn nodded.

  “I cannot remain here, among the devastation and destruction of my home. I will go to Alvanasara, and proclaim the dangers of the cult.”

  “And your people?”

  “Some may come. Some may stay,” she said. “That is up to them.”

  “You will need to appoint a new ruler. Who will you trust with that power?”

  “I have not yet decided. That is a difficult decision to make.

  “I know.” Laryn clenched and unclenched his fists. “I hope you will pick someone more willing to work alongside us,” he said.

  Lawal nodded. “Perhaps.”

  Exhausted and wounded, they left the scene behind and trekked back to Annar. Laryn brought the voidbloom buds along.

  Back in Annar, smoking ruins and haunted faces greeted them. Around twenty elves gathered there, the remnants of the population.

  “We cannot offer you much,” Lawal said, “But accept some food as thanks.”

  Her eyes rested for a moment on the elven armor that some of Laryn’s men wore, but she did not comment on it.

  The elves produced tables, which they set up in a clearing near the kingdom core, and soon filled them with food. Sitting among the damaged buildings, the meal had a strange air about it, like a party at a funeral.

  Laryn ate ravenously, sating his hunger with delicious breads, cheeses, and fried vegetables.

  As Laryn finally began to slow, Lawal turned to him. “How were you able to identify the void cultists among us?” she asked.

  Laryn cleared the table in front of him and placed one of the voidbuds there. “This bud,” he said, “grows into the flower of the voidbloom. Inside of it is a void heart, a chunk of black rock, which has some connection with the void.”

  He grabbed a silver knife from the table and began prying off the hard sepals of the bud. As he removed layers, the sepals inside grew softer and were coated with a white, sticky goo.

  “Sorry for the mess,” Laryn said as he reached the center of the but. A black stone, about the size of his fist, lodged among the carnage. “The void heart,” he said.

  Elves had gathered around the table, craning necks and gathering in to observe.

  “The cultists were wearing jewelry made from this kind of stone, or something like it,” Laryn said. “Do you recognize it, now that you’ve seen it?”

  Lawal shook her head. “I have never seen anything like this before,” she said.

  Laryn pulled Savena’s ring from the pouch at his waist, and placed it on the table. “Have you seen this before?”

  Lawal examined the ring curiously. “It seems familiar. Elven craftsmanship, perhaps. But I don’t know that I have seen it.”

  “I know that you have,” Laryn said. “It was on Savena’s finger when we first visited you.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Something about the stone… it hides. It pushes your attention away from it. When I first encountered one, I almost didn’t see it. When I touched it, I… connected with it. Now, they’re obvious to me. Painfully. They call out for my attention, like a song in my mind.”

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  “Peculiar,” Lawal said. “So all I have to do is touch this stone, and I will be able to detect void cultists.” She extended a hand toward the void heart, but stopped part way.

  “You’ll notice void heart,” Laryn said. “It will call out to you. Like, I assume, it calls out to the cultists. So if they choose to wear it openly… you would know.”

  “That is an ability I must have,” Lawal said, extending her hand further.

  “It is dangerous,” Laryn said. “You risk falling under it’s spell.”

  “And how did you resist?”

  “I have a special connection with my… core,” Laryn said. “It protected me.”

  “I have a strong mind,” Lawal said. “I must know more if I am to fight the cult.”

  "We do not know the price,” Laryn said. “There is always a price.”

  “How else can we fight the cultists?” Lawal asked. “It is a price that must be paid.”

  Laryn wondered if he should stop her. Would she suddenly become his enemy, if she touched it?

  She laid her fingertips on the voidheart; stone, earth, fire, water, air, life, each resting gently on the black, glassy surface. Lawal closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, then gripped the stone, plucking it up from the table, dripping with sap and ichor.

  Lawal’s eyes snapped open.

  “I… I hear it,” she said softly. “Whispering to me.” Her eyes scanned the faces of those gathered around, and then sprang to the ring in Laryn’s hand. “They are calling out,” she said. “How could I have never seen their beauty before?” The color drained from her face, and she pried her hand off of the voidheart.

  A weight lifted from Laryn’s shoulders. A sense that a burden he carried was now shared by another.

  “You can take it with you,” Laryn said, nodding to the void heart. “I will sift the others…”

  “No!” Lawal exclaimed. “They… I don’t think I could bear to have it whispering constantly.” She looked around at her people again. “Nobody else do this.”

  The next two days were spent cleaning up from the fighting. Lawal and her people carried away their dead, including the void cultists, but she insisted that Laryn take the remains of the voidlings.

  Laryn immediately had Adi contact Widan and let the exiles know it was safe to return. Widan’s response was cryptic, but positive. It seemed that they had been productive during their time away.

  Working hard, the humans—with the help of a few elves—expanded the bridge between the island and the southern shore, anchoring additional ropes and securing planks. A sturdy corridor soon allowed easy passage over the water.

  Using baskets, woven from river reeds, they collected the remains of the swarmlings and voidlings, as well as the voidlord. The work of sifting these and the three voidhearts took much of Laryn’s time during this period.

  They held a celebration for Fenric. Many of the elves attended, bringing gifts. When Laryn sifted the man’s body and joined his essence to the core, tears were shed. The ragged group of refugees united in the wilderness and began scratching out a better life.

  In the end, Laryn sifted one-hundred and thirteen essence over the course of the two days, boosting Vallor’s influence up to one and a half across more than two hundred tiles.

  “This is getting exhausting,” he complained to Adi one day. “There has to be some way to delegate this ability to someone else?”

  “There is!” Adi said. “But you can’t do it right now. You need another kingdom core.”

  “Another kingdom core?”

  “If you erect any additional kingdom cores inside your territory, they’ll become secondary cores, reflecting the power of this core. Then you can use them to enhance custom classes of your population using stat points you get from completed rings.”

  “Oh, interesting. I can give them a magic stat point, and then they can sift for me?”

  “Along with all the other abilities,” Adi said. “But every point you give away, is a point you don’t have.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Laryn waved his hand dismissively. “Balance, blah blah blah.”

  “To a degree,” Adi said, “Although, if you’re dying for some min-maxing, custom classes tied to secondary cores are a great place to do it. Just make sure you build your classes well, because they’re hard to change later.”

  Laryn rolled his eyes. “I literally just want someone who can [Sift] for me.”

  “Every great ruler eventually learns that they can’t do everything alone,” Adi said.

  The sun set in the west on the evening of the second day since the fighting with the voidbloom. Laryn sighed.

  Every now and then he wondered if he had made the right decision, choosing to stay here. “Is this what you meant for me, Ishtoran?” he muttered to himself. “Many back home would call it blaspheme. But when I look back, I see your hand guiding me here, forcing me forward, blocking off all my escapes.”

  He still wasn’t sure. But something strange was happening here on Cataria. Missing goblins, void overrunning everything, and the spread of the cult among the elves; all this suggested problems. Problems that Laryn felt in no way qualified to resolve.

  But in this moment, those things were not his problems. He only had a responsibility to his subjects.

  Shouts from the north pulled him from his thoughts, and in the dying light of the day, the exiles returned. Hela, Thallon, Gall, Widan, and Hober. They splashed through the Ebil, carrying the carcass of a massive animal on a kind of litter.

  Shouting with joy, Gaten, Kenna, and other Vallorians ran to greet them. Everyone gathered round and rapidly exchanged stores of what had taken place over the preceding days.

  Widan explained how they had tracked a herd of goblin cattle, killed one and dragged it back. Thallon presented Laryn with an armful of red fruits that he called peppers, and continued raving about peppered beef.

  They stripped the skin from the cow, setting it aside, and carved up the meat from the creature.

  That night, the small, Tier Three [Homestead] of Vallor feasted on fire roasted beef strips coated in a spicy pepper sauce that Thallon whipped up.

  Laryn had to admit, the food was delicious. Mostly. He only managed a few bites of the spicy pepper sauce before his whole body felt like it was on fire. Everyone laughed at him.

  The following morning, Lawal appeared in camp.

  “We are going,” she said. “Alvanasara awaits.”

  “Who will be the new leader of Annar?” Laryn asked, anxiously.

  “None will stay behind,” Lawal said. “Our homes here have been destroyed. My people have lost loved ones, and the soil is tainted with their blood. Our own kind betrayed us.”

  “But your core?” Laryn asked. “You will be in danger as long as you remain bound to it.”

  “I know,” Lawal said. “That is why I have come here, to give it over to you.”

  Laryn gaped. “To me?”

  “You want it.” Lawal said. “And you have the power to seize it from me.”

  “I would not—”

  She raised a hand. “Not today. We are friends today. But the winds of fate change, and proximity breeds hatred. I know you covet our lands, and I will turn them to a thorn in your side.”

  She reached out her hand. He took it in his. “You must share a border before Annar can be annexed.”

  Laryn called up his core interface and claimed a single tile, connecting Vallor to Annar.

  A notification appeared in his view, inviting him to claim ownership of the Annaran Kingdom Core. He hesitated, a wave of emotion rolling through him.

  “Did it come through?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Laryn said, accepting the offer.

  On the map, his kingdom expanded. Claiming the core also provided him with additional essence; thirty in total. He guessed that this essence came with the core, though it seemed small. Perhaps some of it was lost in transition.

  “Thank you,” Laryn said, bowing respectfully. “You are a true friend on this day.”

  Lawal’s eyes unfocused, and she stroked her chin. “I hope so,” she said. “Do you understand the voice of the void?”

  “The whispers?” Laryn asked. “It doesn’t mean anything to me. Do you?”

  “Snatches,” Lawal said. “It seems to be related to a very old language. I hope to uncover more in the great library in Alvanasara.”

  “Send word,” Laryn said. “I am curious. It may be that knowledge of the void will be very valuable here on the frontier.”

  Lawal nodded, then took her leave, withdrawing quietly.

  Laryn grinned. He felt sadness for the destruction of Annar, but… In the end, this had worked out to his advantage. He opened his core interface again and finally did what he’d been wanting to do for a while.

  He claimed the sixth ring. A gentle, soothing calm rolled over him, a renewed vigor. He’d added another stat point to constitution.

  His fingers toyed mindlessly with the ring in the pouch at his side. In the back of his mind, it whispered to him. He knew that he should get rid of the void heart gem. Sift it, throw it into the river, whatever. But he couldn’t bring himself to. The ring was too intriguing.