They continued their journey across blighted tiles. Undergrowth was the first to succumb to the the blight, followed by shrubs and smaller trees. Large, ancient growth held out longer against the essence absorbing power of the void, but eventually even these gave out.

  Then rocks and boulders disappeared, crumbled to dust by the blight. The fine grey dust that coated the land soon coated them, and they tied clothes over their faces to keep from inhaling too much of it.

  Laryn checked the influence level of the void in each tile they crossed. When they had first entered the void, the level was just above one, the minimum necessary to maintain control.

  As the day wore on, influence rose gradually. Traveling became more arduous, as the influence of the void worked to slow them. The ground caught at their feet, and soil crumbled beneath their steps like sand. The air thickened against the party.

  Influence grew faster. From two to three influence took merely an hour, and the level continued to rise.

  “It’s hard to know, but I think we’re close to Orfswell,” Thallon said, watching the sun sinking in the distance. “The blight has destroyed many of the land marks here. It’s moved so fast… At least it hasn’t been swarming us with voidlings.”

  “It can’t,” Hela said, pressing her hand to the ground. Her fingers disappeared beneath the dust. She cocked her head, as though listening.

  “What are you doing?” Laryn asked her.

  “I’m listening to the essence,” she said. “It’s flowing to the void heart. The blight is a side effect of the void’s equivalent of sifting things.” She remained still for a moment, then continued. “The bloom isn’t far. Perhaps just over that ridge.” She pointed. “It’s spending all the essence it has to spread its claim, though, and doesn’t have any left over to make into voidlings.”

  “Why?” Laryn asked. “Why would it do that?”

  “Let’s test your education, warrior,” Hela said. “You know the relationship between perimeter and area in a hexagon?”

  “Oh,” Laryn said. “Area grows with the square of perimeter. So… Once it claims a certain amount of tiles, essence collection will happen faster than it can claim more tiles.”

  “Yes,” Hela said. “It’ll all of a sudden have a lot of extra essence. And what this particular strain may chose to do with it… well… a more mild bloom would simply put out thousands of spores. Or, it could choose to create thousands of voidlings. Or fewer, very large—”

  “Influence has been spiking,” Laryn said. “It must be hitting the tipping point.”

  “Not yet,” Hela said. “We’ll know we’re in trouble when influence stops growing. That means the void has started using the essence for something else.”

  “Is this the bloom that has been causing so much trouble here in the wildlands? It’s larger than anything else I’ve seen.”

  “Probably,” Hela said. “Void spores don’t come down from the north often enough to cause so much trouble. This one, or one like it nearby, is probably the source of most of the blooms that we’ve been fighting. It may simply be cycling between growing rapidly and putting off spores, but eventually it’ll turn aggressive.”

  “I get it,” Laryn said. “Let’s get a move on. We want to stop it before it finishes its growth stage.”

  They reached the crest of the hill, and Thallon pointed.

  “There!” he said.

  Down in the gully, between two hills, a river ran. Choked with grey dust, it moved along the river bed like a stream of sludge.

  The river ran into a small copse of emerald green trees, brilliant against the grey wasteland of blighted tiles.

  Figures moved among the trees.

  “They’re still alive!” Thallon exclaimed.

  Laryn stopped him. “Are they also cultists?” he asked. “This could be another trap!”

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  “I don’t think so,” Kenna said. “They seem like they’re fighting the void.”

  “We’d better go check on them,” Laryn said, with a sigh. “But keep your eyes peeled.”

  They wound their way through the grey powder; the remnants of trees, plants, and even soil consumed by the blight.

  As they approached the village, the dire conditions of the villagers there became more clear. Men and women scrambled around their protected tiles, hauling buckets, barrels, and anything else they could gather to the kingdom core. A man there sifted things, trying to maintain the influence of the core as the void pressed in.

  All that remained still claimed were the six tiles directly adjacent to the central core.

  As the Vallorians approached, a group of brave men ran out into one of the void claimed tiles. They began hammering claim stakes down into the blighted soil.

  “See!” Thallon said. “They fight the void!” he broke into a run, and soon all the others ran along with him.

  The beleaguered Orfswellers saw them coming, then turned and ran back to the safety of their outpost.

  Several crumbling buildings still stood in the tile they were trying to reclaim. The claim stakes, similar to the ones Laryn carried with him, flashed, a slow pulsing that quickened as they destroyed the claim of the void on the tile.

  As soon as Laryn entered the void claimed tile, the claim stakes completed their work. With three loud pops, each of the stakes flared brightly, then died, smoke billowing from their charred remains.

  The tile became neutral, and traveling immediately became easier. Then Orfswell claimed the tile. Laryn’s core interface informed him that he was now an intruder on a four influence tile. He felt the difficulty of movement immediately, as the Orfswell influence worked against him.

  “Let’s help them!” Laryn said, grabbing Thallon. “We can’t barge in there without risking a fight. They’re scared.”

  He thrust one of his claim stakes into the man’s hands. Thallon took the stake, and they ran to a nearby void claimed tile.

  The river ran through the middle of this one.

  “They work better the closer you are to the center,” Thallon said.

  “Do we have to use both of them?” Laryn asked.

  “It’ll work faster that way.”

  “We’re not under attack. Head to the next tile and try for that one.”

  Laryn drove the claim stake down into the ground near the running water. Thallon splashed across it, grey mud coating his legs as he emerged.

  The claim stake activated as soon as Laryn stuck it into the ground. It pulsated slowly, a gentle aura emanating from the wooden post. He pushed it deeper into the soft bank of the river, and stepped back, watching the pearlescent shimmer of the stake. The cloud of iridescent vapor was essence; pulled from the tile and evaporating back into the environment.

  On his core interface, he pulled up the statistics for the current tile. A small display indicated the rate at which the claim stake was destroying the void’s influence. The void’s influence had already risen to nearly three and a half, in the short time it took Laryn to run down the hill.

  Influence drained slowly, ticking down by degrees. The claim stake pulsated more rapidly as its life drew to a close. Void influence in the tile dropped below two.

  His interface was only capable of showing him information about the current tile when looking at regions other than his kingdom.

  ```

  Tile Influence: 1.8

  Tile Defending Influence: 12.3

  ```

  Three voidclaimed tiles bordered this tile, lending their influence to the defense of this tile. Each of those had about 3.5 influence, and when added to the influence of the tile Laryn was attacking, they had a total defense power of 12.3

  Orfswell had three tiles bordering this one. They’d had four influence just before Laryn had left their tile, so they had twelve attacking influence. Not quite enough to claim this tile yet.

  Defending influence ticked down another notch. If the claim stake expired before Orfswell claimed the tile or it turned neutral, then the void’s influence would immediately return, reasserting itself.

  Thallon shouted and waved, activating his claim stake in the neighboring tile. Since that tile’s influence was contributing to the defense of Laryn’s tile, the defending influence began ticking down faster.

  It dropped below twelve.

  His claim stake began blinking more rapidly, the pulsating area vibrating as it reached the end of it’s life.

  ```

  Tile influence: 1.6

  Tile defending influence: 11.8

  ```

  His stake wasn’t going to last long enough to neutralize the tile. Orfswell was going to need to claim it before the stake expired.

  “Hey!” he shouted, waving his arms. He started jogging toward the villagers, who’d been watching him curiously from the safety of the makeshift breastwork surrounding their kingdom core.

  “Hey, claim this tile!” he shouted.

  A few of them pointed his direction. What appeared to be a heated argument took place, but was quickly decided.

  Orfswell claimed the tile.

  Laryn gasped. The higher influence of Orfswell snapped into place, suddenly pressing down on him, causing him to stumble and roll in the blight-ash.

  He arose, coughing, and brushing dust from his clothes.

  The tile immediately seemed healthier. Orfswell’s influence pushed the blight back. Crumbling branches and wilting grass greened and straightened, like they’d just been washed by cleansing rain.

  “It’s not going to be enough!” Thallon shouted from the neighboring tile. Only two Orfswell tiles bordered that tile, so attacking influence was only eight.

  A few of the Orfswell men ran out with additional claim stakes, and pounded them into the ground near Thallon. The move was desperate. Now that they’d showed that they were friendly, Laryn wouldn’t waste any more effort trying to claim tiles from this void.

  Laryn waved for the rest of his people to come toward the center of the village.

  “Friends!” he called to the huddled villagers. “We’re friends!”