CH1453 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1453: Shadow of the Blackstone Region

North of the Fertile Plains.

Since leaving Neverwinter, Lightning and Maggie had flown for nearly ten consecutive days.

They cruised at what Lightning called their “economic speed” — a pace where magic power recovered through the night could sustain a day’s use — sweeping back and forth across hundreds of kilometers of plain. They touched ground only to camp or hunt. The Exploration Group had entered a new phase: though they carried the latest maps the Union had provided, centuries of change had rendered those maps nearly useless. Desolate paths, dried canals, abandoned cities buried under weed and shrub — nothing corresponded to what the paper showed. Only the stars overhead and the distant ridge of the continent told them where north was.

At this distance, the Sigil of Listening no longer carried messages. Bird and girl moved alone through a vast silence. The desolation was its own kind of obstacle, and Lightning knew, with the clear-eyed honesty of someone who had tested herself against difficult things, that without Maggie she could not have continued.

The mission was simple enough to state: confirm the location and route of the demons’ new Deity of Gods, and illuminate the plains beyond Taquila. Simple to state, harder to execute. A floating island could fly low enough to resemble any ordinary hill from a distance. To be certain, they had to approach close enough to verify through Red Mist — weather permitting. To avoid missing it entirely, Lightning had chosen to fly broken paths along the edge of the continental ridge.

“Grrr…”

Maggie’s stomach announced itself from above.

Lightning glanced up. “Hungry again?”

“Owh.” Maggie nodded, unashamed.

“You barely moved. How are you hungry earlier than me?”

“Because I’ve been staring at the ground, aooo!” She tipped forward and rubbed her cheek against Lightning’s. “Eyes and brain are connected, and according to the book, using the brain is most exhausting, owh!”

That isn’t what Theoretical Foundations of Natural Science says. The book clearly states that the brain consumes more energy than any other organ even at rest — which doesn’t mean that a stationary person is using their brain more than a moving one.

But the cheek-rubbing disrupted her balance, and correcting Maggie’s natural philosophy while trying to fly was more trouble than descent was. The sky was already darkening at the horizon; another half-hour at most before they had to stop anyway. And their jerky supply was running low, which made the extra time useful.

Most importantly: she could not refuse Maggie. That was simply a fact.

“Same rules. You hunt, I make fire. Sigil of Listening for emergencies. Understood?”

“Got it, owh!”

Before the last syllable landed, Maggie had already transformed and was beating upward into the dimming sky in the form of a Devilbeast.

Lightning found shelter and began dinner preparations. Roland’s technological advances had replaced the old adventuring kit — flints, fire-wool, torches — with something altogether more elegant. Windproof matches no bigger than half a palm. Single-use torchlights. The multi-function knife that every Exploration Group member treated as a personal talisman. All of it fit in a coat pocket, leaving room in the pack for an embarrassing quantity of spices and condiments. There were times Lightning wasn’t sure whether she was an adventurer who happened to cook well, or a gourmand who happened to fly.

It was probably related to how often Maggie got hungry.

What followed was as practiced as breathing. Maggie returned with a bison and reduced it to portions with her talons. Lightning selected the best cuts — smoking some, baking others in clay — while the fire did its patient work. They had run this routine so many times it had become something closer to ceremony than labor. When the coals died, they were full, and the haversack was restocked. Everything reset to the state before departure. The only things that changed were their position on the map and, perhaps, their sense of what they were going toward.

Whatever guilt lingered was buried efficiently by food and exhaustion.

Lightning laid out the Sigil of Screaming, burrowed into the sleeping bag beside Maggie, and was gone before the last ember cooled.


She woke into reverie, eyes still half-closed — and saw a shadow on the horizon that had not been there the night before.

Lightning sat up and rubbed her eyes. The plain had been flat yesterday; they had checked the surrounding terrain thoroughly. A hill could not have appeared overnight.

After a long moment of drowsy disbelief, she looked again.

This time, she went cold.

Through the thin morning mist, the hilltop was flat. Geometrically, impossibly flat. No natural landform produced that edge. And in the few seconds she’d been staring, it had grown. Not because the mist was clearing. Because it was moving toward them.

Lightning knew what moved on the Fertile Plains that looked like a hill.

She grabbed Maggie’s shoulder and shook. “Peck me once.”

“Coo.” Maggie raised one finger and tapped Lightning’s forehead.

The small pain snapped the world back into focus.

It was not a hallucination.

A gust of wind swept over them, sending Maggie’s white hair streaming. With the wind came a thin mist — and in that mist the shadow resolved into form.

On a triangular black mountain sat a gigantic pyramid built entirely of Blackstone. Its dimensions defeated easy comprehension. If the old Deity of Gods had a demon city at its center, this pyramid could have held the entire city on its surface. One large and one smaller inverted awl gave the floating island a silhouette that pressed down on the eye. The first Deity of Gods had resembled a mountain range — organic, accidental. This structure was none of those things. Its exterior was deliberate, its symmetry absolute. Every line of it expressed intent.

This was why there had been no Red Mist. The Blackstone form had concealed it.

The second Deity of Gods they had been searching for had found them first.

Without pausing to pack, Lightning seized Maggie’s wrist and pulled her into the sky.

They climbed. Below and behind the demon city, the sight that waited made Lightning’s throat close.

Countless black dots surged across the plain like a wave that covered the horizon — and threading between them, alternating red lines, forming something like cloth, like a net, like a tide that devoured everything it touched. If every black dot was a demon, their numbers exceeded the human population of all Four Kingdoms combined.

The enemy’s main force was in motion.

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