Even dead gods can dream.

Something ancient lies in the depths of the Iona Chasm, and its dreams leak into the world. Creeping fingers of madness slip their way out of this rent in the earth, and seep soundlessly into the surrounding desert. They infect the earth, holding back the endless tides of the grassy steppes, and surround the chasm in a halo of unreality that warps the very nature of the world in its invisible shadow.

Bones rise from the dust on a whim, and horrors walk the bowels of the chasm, searching with the crooked purpose that only a sleeping mind can conjure. Do not venture deep into this place, dear reader, for only madness can survive in the land of a dreaming god.

- Extract of 'The Lost Mysteries Of Tsanderos' – transcribed by Seneschal Skeratim from the 'Book Of The Bone Tower', an artifact from the 1st Cleansing

The days passed in a blur of travelling, childish games, banter, food, beautiful sights and weapons-work. I felt like a sponge, soaking up knowledge and information until it was dripping out of my ears. Come the morning though, I would find sleep to have wrung me out and I'd be once again eager for more.

My Skills stayed relatively stable due to the lack of danger, and the dearth of experience – other than the occasional small animal I hunted – kept my level static, too. But my competence was growing by the day. The guidance I was receiving, either actively from Jorge, or passively in the form of Vera's stories or Nathlan's lectures, was having a profound effect. I started to feel more grounded in this new world, as I learned a million minor things that I'd never have thought to ask about but was infinitely glad I had been shown, nonetheless.

The idyllic peace of our journey received its first chip mid-way through our second week of travel. Jorge raised his head and sniffed the air as we moved, prompting a childish joke from Nathlan that still managed to raise a snort from both Vera and I. Jorge didn't respond with his usual levity though, and his lack of reaction was enough to tell us that something was wrong. His next words only confirmed it.

"Death ahead. People. Burnt."

We picked up our pace, weapons appearing in hands from storage devices. Jorge handed me a spear and shield wordlessly and I hefted them as we ran. Vera raised a questioning eyebrow at Jorge and pointed her sword out wide, but he just shook his head.

"No, we'll stay together this time. I smell… something. Reminds me of Gardemne."

Something significant passed between them at that, and there was a brief moment where the air stirred around Vera, flash-lit in an instant to leave smoke curling from her shoulders. The scene we found no more than ten minutes later was similar – smoke curling from the ruins of a large rickshaw, identifiable as such only by the cracked wheels laying scattered amongst the three bodies.

Two men and a child. A family, perhaps? Or a young girl apprenticing with the traders? Whatever potential future awaited them was now gone. Withered on the vine. I felt my stomach churning, spit thick and sour in my mouth. I swallowed thickly and stepped forwards, but Jorge blocked my way with the haft of his spear.

No words were exchanged as he crept ahead, eyes skimming the ground as he moved his head from side to side like a curious bird. It took only a few moments for the training to kick in, and I turned to sweep my gaze over the open grassland behind us.

I knew the trick of it by now, Jorge's lessons having been drilled into my brain. I let my gaze wander over the view. Rather than flicking my eyes, I instead moved my head, seeking movement or disruption in the natural balance of colours and shadows that danced through the high grasses. I could feel Nathlan doing the same behind me, and together we covered most of our surroundings. It wasn't a perfect net, but it wasn't meant to be. There would be holes in every sentry setup, and the goal was to reduce the likelihood of a surprise, not eliminate it entirely.

Jorge took several minutes investigating, and Vera stood still as a rock the whole time, keeping herself tightly controlled, all natural movement suppressed.

"We know what this is, Jorge." It was said through gritted teeth, as if to open her mouth even slightly would lead to her screaming at the heavens.

There was no reply for a few more minutes as Jorge continued to pace around the scene, eyes never leaving the floor. He spent time examining each of the bodies, and then called over Nathlan for his opinion on the final corpse.

They spoke in hushed tones, and then the shorter man clapped his hands and spoke for the first time.

"Alright, gather 'round. This was recent, no more than a day. Vera, you were right, it's definitely the same as Gardemne. I can't for the life of me figure out why they're still looking, but it's irrelevant now. They're here, and we'll deal with them."

She simply nodded through gritted teeth, and while I didn't want to interrupt, I was still lost as to what was happening. "What's going on?" I asked. "Who did this? Was it bandits or something?"

"No, lad, this was not the work of bandits," Jorge replied sadly. "Vera's told you some of her history with the Sunset Kingdoms, aye?"

I nodded, shooting a look to Vera to gauge her reaction. She was staring at the bodies though, looking through them at something none of us could see. I caught a glimpse of fire dancing behind her eyes, and the faint haze shimmering around her shoulders confirmed that she was not as calm as her stillness might indicate to a stranger.

"We've been around for a while, me and her, and we've seen this sort of thing before. 'Course, it's not unique to the Lions, but given that we've had such a recent run in with a very large group of 'em, and we know there are likely some in the area anyway…"

He blew out a breath and put his hands on his hips as he looked down at the smoking corpses. "There's not many groups that would waylay a group of travelling merchants like this. The Tusk-Born Reavers are nowhere nearby, none of the nomadic groups would do this, and given the presence of the giants here, it's rare for bandits to get this bold in the Wandering States. Not to mention, a living merchant can be robbed repeatedly, while a dead one only once. No, this was the work of outsiders with no stake in the area."

I followed the thought. "And the only group of outsiders that are in the area that have used methods like this in the past are the Crimson Lions?"

"Aye, lad. Got it in one," he replied, somewhat bitterly. "Besides, they have a motive. Probably looking for information, but…"

"No," Vera said, voice cold. "This was as much a message as an inquest."

Her eyes were hard, those fires dancing higher, burning brighter, such that I could see them casting shadows on her face from within her eyes. Nobody spoke for a few long moments.

"What message does this send? And to who?" I asked.

Vera turned to me, and for a moment I felt the heat in her gaze envelop me, burning away everything. My own aura flared to life in response, Indomitable Prey activating in the face of a force that sought to consume me. It was a candle flame in an ocean - swiftly smothered - but Vera swiftly looked away, the crushing intensity fading after only an instant.

"Sorry, Lamb," she said hurriedly, drawing in a deep breath before continuing. "It's a message to me, I think. 'Come and find us.'"

Jorge sucked in air through his teeth. "You sure, Vera?"

Nathlan frowned. It didn't make much sense to me either, but I lacked the scholar's understanding of the world to be sure.

"But why?" Nathlan asked. "You already defeated a far larger force. And unless these are stronger, why would they antagonise you further? In fact, it is almost guaranteed that they are not; if the Lions had any 3rd tiers, they would have sent them leading the initial force."

Nathlan took a breath before summarising. "So why would they send a message like that to you now?"

"The Crimson Lions have always been delusional," Vera said, an icy chill to her voice. "The second sons of pompous nobles, more interested in wine than war. The day they make reasonable decisions is the day the sun ceases to rise."

Jorge sighed, shaking his head like he disagreed but was unsure how to voice it. "They're arses, alright, but they ain't stupid, Vera. Part of the reason you and yours are so hated over there is because you shattered those delusions of supremacy in a single battle…"

He trailed off, looking over to Nathlan and myself. "Time marches ever onwards, though. It's been a decade already - hard to believe, eh? - but I suppose that's long enough for the young and hungry to start questioning the veterans. Arrogance thrives when competence is thin in the ground, after all, and you killed most of the competent ones at Sternsbridge."

"So you agree, then?" I asked. "That this… slaughter… was just a message to entice Vera to follow?"

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The imposing woman grimaced, and I winced as I realised how that might have sounded. I continued hurriedly, "not that this is her fault, or anything. It's just… is it wise to follow?"

Vera grinned then, a hungry look that set the hairs of my arms to rising in response to its grim promise. "Oh, we'll follow alright. I can't turn back time and stop this crime, but I can make them pay for it."

Jorge pulled out his canvas map again and poured over it, him and Vera both bouncing ideas off of each other as to where our new enemy could be. After a few more moments of discussion, the map was rolled back up and deposited in his storage necklace, and we were moving on again, weapons still in hand.

"We're heading to the Iona Chasm – small crack in the earth from some calamity in a previous era. Running water, protection from the elements, and the only place in a hundred miles that can break line of sight. If they're planning an ambush, it will be from there that they spring."

We fell into place, running as a group once more, and I noticed how natural it felt to pump my arms softly with weapons gripped in my fists. When had that happened?

"This fight will be beyond either of you for the time being," Jorge explained. "So we'll be ditching you on the plains above the gorge, while Vera and I descend in and sort this out."

On we ran. Jorge sniffed the air every few minutes, leading us unerringly towards our prey, and we loped along silently behind him, each of us consumed with our thoughts.

We drew to a halt as a shape started to appear on the horizon. Vera dumped her armour out of her storage device and began buckling it on, while Jorge turned to Nathlan and I.

"Right lads, we'll be gone for most likely a day or two – possibly up to a week if they're slippery and run before we get to 'em. As long as you're within half a day's travel of that crack," he pointed at the shape that had yet to fully resolve itself to my view on the horizon, "then we'll find you. If one of us hasn't picked you up within ten days, then get to the Panyera."

Nathlan nodded, clearly having some confidence in crossing an entire country on foot that I didn't exactly share.

"Keep each other alive, and feel free to explore, but DO NOT go down into the chasm itself. The area around the Iona Chasm is apparently relatively safe, and you shouldn't run into anything above 1st tier by my best guess. That being said; Nathlan – I want you to put up one of your wards around the edge of the chasm, as large as you can make it. If anything, and I mean anything, breaks it I want you both to book it as far away as possible. If it's me or Vera, we'll catch you before you've gone a mile or two, and if it's not, then you don't want to be waiting around to find out what exactly it is, understood?"

I was starting to get nervous now with the orders flying around and the threat of death rearing its ugly head again after a week or two of stress-free living. Nathlan seemed resolute though, and Jorge only continued talking, leaving no time for my nerves to grow.

"That's worst case. More likely, we'll be gone for a day or two. In the meantime, I want you both training. There's something in the air that feels a little off, so keep your wits about you. Nathlan - keep that sword out. I want you to use as little of your magic as possible. If either of you are in danger of death then hold nothing back, but a little light maiming never hurt anyone, aye?"

He laughed at his own joke, and Nathlan cracked a smile in turn. "So use it sparingly. And Lamb – keep the spear and shield out. With any luck, fighting in danger again will give you a new weapons Skill to round out your repertoire. Whatever you do though, do not accept a merger. Keep it separate for now, alright?"

I was bewildered by the words, and spoke quickly, worried he'd cut me off if I wasn't able to puncture his barrage of instructions.

"What are we going to be fighting!?"

Nathlan smiled grimly as he answered, "There's always something."

The cryptic answer didn't really help but Jorge had paused only long enough to nod in agreement with the tall, lanky scholar before speaking again. Vera had nearly finished buckling on the plated portions of her upper armour, and was working on the plates protecting her hips, shins and upper legs.

"Nathlan has plenty in his storage item, so you'll be fine for living. Remember; work on your Skills, and do NOT go down into that gorge."

With that said, he clapped us both on the shoulder, gave us a measuring look and then pulled out his own armour. Within half a minute he was checking over Vera's gear while she was doing the same to him. They looked now like they had when I first met them – dressed for war, and imposing in a way I hadn't fully appreciated at the time.

A final nod at each other, then us, and the two left towards the shape on the horizon. It didn't take long for them to join the haze and be lost from view.

I turned to Nathlan with what was likely a nonplussed expression on my face. He just shrugged in response and started trudging towards the smudge on the horizon. I followed and we walked in silence for a few moments before I opened my mouth to break the ice.

He beat me to it. "I don't know."

I blinked and responded, "but I've not asked you anything yet."

"It is the answer to any bloody question you could ask right now!"

I could hear the frustration in his tone, bubbling away under the surface. I also knew it wasn't directed at me and was instead caused by the simmering uncertainty we were both feeling after Jorge and Vera had run off.

"I thought you were the one who knew everything?" I asked innocently.

He whipped around to face me, staring for a few moments with an inscrutable expression on his face. The tension broke as he huffed a laugh, although it sounded far too strained to be natural.

"Alright, sorry. I genuinely know little more than you, though. I have been given challenges before, but nothing so drastic as this. And please refrain from asking about the Crimson Lions. I know next to nothing about them either, and I am not interested in speculating. They might simply be the remnants of one of the Talons we sent scampering back at the foot of the Unclaimed Peaks after bumping into you."

That sounded a lot like speculation to my ear, but I thought better than to comment on it. "After abandoning me, you mean?" I asked instead, deciding to antagonise the man from an entirely different angle.

Rather than rise to my bait though, he looked back at me calmly. "Yes exactly," he replied.

I blinked, surprised at the answer before he crooked his lips in a grin. I sighed, letting him have the win.

"So… what do we do?" I asked. "Just walk over?"

As much as I had learned in the last week and a half, ten days was still only ten days. I didn't want to return to the reactive, unthinking animal the endless valley had made me into, but I could feel the instincts creeping back, all the same.

"Yes, unless you learned to fly without my notice?" Came his acerbic reply. A moment later he relented and explained, "we should approach slowly, to allow us to survey the area. Our priority is to find somewhere to camp. We can scout out the area from there and decide more once we know what we are dealing with."

I agreed, glad to have some direction, and focused on the warm sensation of the mid-morning sun bathing my face as we walked on. It was an awkward few miles of silence punctuated by brief respites of stilted conversation.

Nathlan was not keen on idle chat at the best of times, but at least often seemed willing to talk about something, and would ask questions of me regularly in our travels. This situation was clearly wearing at him, and he seemed more closed-off than usual.

As time passed though, the brief moments of conversation disappeared entirely, and we were left with a strange silence. Although… not silence exactly. An absence of spoken words, surely, but something was there beneath the sounds of our boots on the cracked ground, increasingly free of grass, as we approached the sight before us.

A strange whispering, like the wind given voice at the edge of our hearing. Before us the ground rose unevenly towards the sky. The grasslands ended, an invisible line demarcating where the territory of the great green sea ended and the barren dirt began. It was a subtle shift when we looked around us, with endless grass slowly giving way to the odd clump and tuft before falling away entirely within several dozen feet. And yet, as we stood at the end of the grass and looked away to either side, the nuance was lost and we saw only a single line where grass met dirt.

Miles of rippling emerald stretched as far as the eye could see behind us, gradual rolling slopes and wind-whipped grasses, and before us was a desert of ochre dirt rising in an earthen mound.

Littering the base of this mound were great spires of stone. They jutted out of the ground like the discarded playthings of giants, many rising over fifty feet tall. Some were slim as a tree at their base, leaning precariously with strange bulges and protrusions giving them a wonky and unsightly appearance. Others were so thick that not even ten men could link their arms around their bases, and they reached towards the sky with pride.

They formed a forest of stone around the base of the rise, and behind them was a small ridgeline. It was even, soft and curved rather than the jagged edges and straight lines expected of natural stone formations. It rose menacingly behind the rocky spears that surrounded it, and Nathlan and I shared a look.

It did not look a friendly place to visit.

Nobody grew without confronting their fears though, so we soon squared our shoulders and strode through the eery forest. As we walked, the whispering wind became a murmur, and then a faint humming. By the time we reached the ridge, that sound was clearly audible, and it felt as if the wind itself was howling at us with fury. A low, keening cry that undulated and withdrew at a whim, but never quite stopped.

The stone pillars around us began to show signs of damage. Not the wear of long aeons of wind and sand erosion, or the constant fury of water, but rather the rapid and catastrophic damage that only people seemed to produce with any regularity.

Chips of stone, taller than me and twice as wide, were cluttered around the base of one particularly large pillar. Twenty feet over there was a hole blasted in the centre of another. Evidence of felled pillars littered the ground along the bottom of the earthen rise, with large boulders broken off after hitting the dirt.

It looked as if two stone giants had fought a frantic battle, using the environment as weapon and armour both. The wind weaving in and around the forest of stone must be what was producing the eery sound, but I was amazed it could have such a profound effect, even so.

As we ascended the earthen ridge, however, I saw the true cause.

I had erroneously compared the stone forest behind to a battlefield, but I saw now how wrong that was. It was more a light skirmish in comparison to the massacre that lay before us. Stone pillars dotted the plateaux below by the thousands, shrubby trees crowding their bases and some adventurous ones crawling around their torsos, seeking to bring the giants down. Rather than thick vegetation covering the ground between the stone columns, there was just arid red dirt, packed hard and cracked in honeycomb patterns by the unrelenting sun.

Some of the columns were toppled, some stood firm, but most bore signs of destruction. The wind howled around us, and we descended in unison to the forest in front, seeking to hide from the wind and its terrible moaning.

The moment we left the ridge line, that awful groaning died down. There was a gentle background whisper still, but nothing like the harsh sound we had endured above. I let out a sigh of relief, and I could see Nathlan relax similarly.

"So where do we setup?" I asked, eyeing the strange geography.

Nathlan replied, his tone weary, as if resigned to an afternoon of exhausting labour. "We should head to the chasm itself. I need to set a perimeter ward along the crack, as Jorge suggested, and we can pace out our domain from there. Once I have set the ward, we can search for a good spot. Can you climb?"

"Aye," I said with a grin. "Better than you, I'd wager."

He snorted, but his reply was half-hearted. "It is cheating with your attributes. Five per level for a first class is fucking ridiculous."

"Perks of a combat class, apparently," I replied easily. "You know, that might be the first time I've heard you swear."

He simply shook his head and continued towards the edge of the plateaux. "Let's go."

I followed reluctantly, but couldn't shake my unease. Something about the wind felt malevolent somehow. Like there was a purpose hidden within its subtle play. An intent.

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