Finally, Karathra called a halt at the edge of the forest, where the bone trees gave way to something else. They sat around the forest floor to rest, their breath coming in short gasps.

Fortunately, Brakthar managed to secure the small barrel of water and through the Drowning, the released other barrels to feed their blood searching Armour with blood.

And then they feed.

After a while though, they need to start moving again. They finally took stock of their surroundings, especially the space in front of them... aswamp.

Dark water stretched before them, thick with floating vegetation that glowed with sickly bioluminescence. The air here was heavy, humid, carrying the scent of decay.

"The Mire of Forgotten Voices," Lady Pelica said. She'd kept pace with them easily, barely winded, throughout the battle, none of the monsters attacked her, it was as if she wasn't there at all. "We'll need to pass through it to reach the Fiendish monster's territory."

Karathra looked back at the Bone Forest. The sounds of fighting were fading, but they could still hear the occasional crash of combat. The effect would wear off eventually, and the surviving Sentinels would reform.

"How dangerous is the mire?" she asked.

Lady Pelica's smile was thin. "Very. The water is liquified essence. Very unstable. It will burn through your reserves if you wade through it, and dissolve you entirely if you swim."

"And if we go around?"

"Days of travel and maybe weeks. The mire is vast."

Karathra looked at her exhausted team.

Zargoth was being supported by Ashclaw. Rukar had lost a lot of blood. Even Hrothgar, the tireless berserker, was moving slowly. All of them were tired.

"We rest here more," she decided. "One more hour. Then we cross."

No one argued.

☆☆▪︎▪︎☆☆

Galthor's domain had held for what felt like days.

He'd been walking through the grey realm, his bubble of divine anger pushing back the entity's influence. The shadow creatures couldn't touch him inside the domain. The whispers of grief couldn't reach him. For the first time since falling into the canyon, he felt something like safety.

But the entity was patient.

"You interest me," it said. The voice came from everywhere, as always, but there was a new tone to it. Filled with curiosity and calculation. "Most who fall into my realm break within hours. You've lasted far longer. And that attack then...how did you do this? Looking at you now.. you are not mighty."

Galthor didn't respond. He was focused on navigating the floating islands, looking for something, anything, that might lead to an exit.

"Your anger is... pure. Uncorrupted by hatred or madness. It's righteous anger. The anger of the wronged." A pause. "I haven't felt anything like it in a very long time."

"Are you trying to compliment me into lowering my guard?"

The entity laughed. It was an ugly sound, rusted from millennia of disuse. "Perhaps. Is it working?"

"No."

"Then let me try a different approach." The grey landscape around Galthor shifted. The floating islands rearranged themselves, forming a path that led upward, toward a larger platform he hadn't noticed before. "Come. I want to show you something."

Every instinct Galthor had screamed trap. But his options were limited. He'd been wandering for what felt like an eternity, and he was no closer to finding an exit. Maybe the entity would reveal something useful.

He followed the path.

The larger platform held a structure, the first true building he'd seen in this realm. It was a temple, or had been once. The architecture was elegant, delicate, designed for contemplation rather than worship. Statues lined the entrance, figures in poses of mourning, their stone faces serene despite their tears.

"This was mine," the entity said. "Before the war. Before I became... this."

Galthor entered the temple. The interior was simple. A central chamber with a pool of still water. Benches arranged in a circle. Soft light filtering through windows that showed only grey void.

"I was the Comforter of the Dying," the entity continued. The air in the temple shifted. The entity's presence coalesced, becoming more focused, more intense.

"Join with me. Combine your domain with mine. Anger and grief, merged into something new. Together, we could escape this canyon. We could claim the entire Abyssal land. We could become something that even the gods would fear."

Galthor considered the offer.

Not seriously. He knew better than to trust an entity that had tried to kill him moments ago. But he let the silence stretch, let the entity think he was tempted.

"And what would I have to give up?" he asked finally.

"Your independence. Your identity would merge with mine. We would become a single being, greater than either of us alone."

"So I would cease to exist as myself."

"You would become something more."

Galthor shook his head slowly. "I spent my first life as a prisoner. Trapped in a body that didn't work. Unable to move, to act, to choose. When I was reborn, I swore I would never be a prisoner again."

"This wouldn't be imprisonment. It would be transcendence."

"It would be death." Galthor turned to face the entity's presence, his eyes hard. "My death. And I'm not ready to die yet. I have too much to do. Too many people counting on me. So maybe new things to see. So many food! Things to try! So many living!"'

The entity's presence darkened. "Then you condemn yourself to eternal suffering. I offered you partnership. Now I will simply take what I need."

The temple began to crumble. The serene statues twisted into screaming faces. The pool of water turned black and began to rise.

Galthor expanded his domain, pushing back the assault. "You tried that already. It didn't work."

"I wasn't trying before. I was testing. Now I know your limits."

Shadow creatures began to emerge from the walls, the floor, the ceiling. But these were different from the ones before.

They werec larger and more defined. They wore the faces of the dead he'd seen in the memories, twisted into expressions of rage.

"Let's see how long your anger lasts against an army of grief."

The creatures attacked.

Again.

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