"Now," the Preceptor said softly, "step aside. I'm taking my wards and leaving. And you're going to let me, because you're smart enough to know that you can't do anything to stop or keep me here."

For a long, tense moment, Cassius stood his ground. His jaw was clenched, and his blue eyes flickered with differing ranges of emotions, from defiance to anger to frustration, before his usual logic and calculation took over and his eyes returned to normal.

Then slowly, with visible reluctance, he stepped aside.

"This isn't over, Preceptor," Cassius said quietly. "The world has seen. We know the Ossuary is hiding something. And we won't stop demanding answers..."

"You all can keep demanding," the Preceptor replied, already moving past him. "It changes nothing."

He gestured sharply to Finn and Althea.

"We're leaving. Now."

Finn didn't need to be told twice. He stood up immediately with his wings scraping the walls as he moved toward the door. Althea followed. She tried to maintain the usual calm she had, but her eyes couldn't hide the same shock Finn felt.

As they passed Cassius, the emissary's gaze lingered on them one last time.

"For what it's worth," Cassius suddenly said, as if trying to get the last word, "I'm going to share the knowledge of what your wards saw in that space with the rest of the world."

The Preceptor didn't even pause.

They exited the secured chamber into the villa's corridors. Outside, through the tall windows, Finn's enhanced vision could see dozens and hundreds of flying beasts and levitation artifacts converging on the city from all directions. Diplomatic envoys. Observation teams. Power-brokers and information merchants.

Everyone who was someone in Xanth had heard about the Feraxian World Tear by now. And soon, they'd all be scrambling to get there, to see it for themselves, to position themselves for whatever came next.

"Preceptor," Althea spoke as they walked, "what happens now?"

The old man didn't slow his pace.

"Now?" he said, and there was something almost like grim satisfaction in his voice. "Now we go to sleep. We rest for the long journey ahead. And tomorrow, we start our journey to Feraxia. Because if the Lost Age is truly tearing back into our world, then every Preceptor, every fragment-bearer, and every soul that knows the truth needs to be there."

He glanced back at them, and in his eyes Finn saw something that made his vigilance rise slightly…

Anticipation.

"The curtain is drawing open," the Preceptor murmured to himself. "And soon, the whole world will understand why some secrets were better left buried."

.

.

.

The following events of the night were hectic, at least for the rest of the city. In the safety and privacy of their suites and lounges, Althea channeled her [Order Edict: Clarity] onto Finn.

Her demeanor changed entirely when she did so, before she switched back to normal and she stated she'd do the same again at dawn.

Finn was stable for the moment again, but he felt largely uncomfortable about the fact that she had to keep doing this for the foreseeable future till they arrived at Feraxia where he could privately try the Aspect Adaptation he had in mind.

More importantly, the fact that she'd have to keep doing it repeatedly meant that her body was going to keep getting 'possessed' — something that didn't sit right with Finn, as it seemed like whenever she switched and came back, her psyche became affected by Order to an extent, making her feel less and less like Althea and more 'ancient' for longer periods of time afterwards.

As he lay on his bed, trying to get some shut eye, first he marveled at the Preceptor's domineering confidence. The old man surely knew Emissary Cassius had, by now, revealed the details of their interrogation to every other dignitary. Yet, instead of leaving immediately, he had spent the night within their city, within their home. He was that confident they couldn't touch him at all!

Finn shook his head, wondering when he himself would reach that level of power. To be able to do as he pleased without caring for what others might squabble about.

From there, his mind raced through all the series of events that had happened so far. It all seemed like a blur. Way too many things happened without him being able to calmly process them.

From his and Althea's encounter with the cultists, to his frantic assimilation and costly soul debts, to the revelation by the Preceptor of his reasons for using them as bait…

By the way, he thought. What happens now with that ship and the Harvester Cult the Preceptor was after?

For how much planning the Preceptor put into using them as bait, he should have descended on them wherever they were now that the individual with the disguise path had been killed by Althea, thereby — by logic — revealing the Harvester Cult's locations in the city and the ship too…?

Finn couldn't know for sure.

His mind then moved to Althea again. The Preceptor had believed her when she said she was only just using the Transcendental power of the Abstract Path of Order for the first time. But yet, she'd had no problem killing a whole 'Bearer of a Disguise path' with it. She also used spells specific to the abstract magic path as though this wasn't her first time.

Yet the Preceptor saw nothing wrong with it. Finn analyzed why the old man did not question Althea's proficiency and eventually came up with the idea that it must be somewhat like his own 'intuition'.

The same instinctive feeling he had to find flaws and answers to problems in dire moments, as if it was naturally the right thing to do, without needing to be told... Just like a child was never taught to eat…

He concluded that it must be a trait particular to Transcendent fragment holders. The usage of the spells and whatnot must be instinctive, and the Preceptor himself must have experienced it too, and that was why he didn't question Althea's proficient usage.

The thought then made him more certain of the idea that he had a Transcendent fragment within himself too.

For the rest of the night, Finn tried to decipher what this Fragment within him could be, taking clues from all that had happened, and his title itself: The Errant Heretic.

He knew the heretic part was related to his ability to adapt and embody aspects from mythological characters. It felt like heresy to steal from these earth figures that were once considered fully fledged gods in their own right. He could understand that part.

But the Errant part? What could that mean? Error? Finding errors in dire moments?

Just like how I found my way into Syf's true psyche when I was enforcing Loyalty and Obedience onto her…?

Those were the last thoughts that floated through his hyper-active mind before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep for the night.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was already the crack of dawn, and the musings of the previous night had faded into the back of his mind.

He got prepared and ready to go after Althea bombarded him with a particularly long douse of her Order Magic, which she swayed and mellowed from afterwards, much to the displeasure of the Preceptor.

Finn was sure that the old man simply could not understand why someone as special as Althea, with the powers she held, chose to use them on him at her expense.

And he was justified to think that. Finn himself was surprised at her display of concern. They'd been through a few hurdles together so far, but it wasn't like they knew each other extremely well that it could warrant such a selfless display from her.

Though Finn knew that if it came to it, he would most likely also do the same for her despite how he questioned it now.

In this new world they kept getting further and further into, she was the only one he knew, and he, the same for her.

But how long was that going to last?

They prepared for their travel to Feraxia, shamelessly stuffing their bags full of food at the Feugeur family's expense, despite currently being at odds with them.

The Preceptor had made it clear that this journey was going to be direct and focused on speed. He wasn't going to make stops like their journey here.

"Brace up and keep your head high. Do not listen to any of their talks and simply stick by me," the Preceptor said as the three stepped out of the Emerald Villa.

Before them, lay nearly a hundred Master Arcanists, all lined up in rows with the best of gear. They stood like they were sending off the Ossuarists, but it was apparent to all that they were here to serve as a show of the Feugeur family's power — Money.

And their stance with the rest of the dignitaries in condemning the Ossuary's act, especially now that they knew what the Aethelosian Emissary knew.

But it seemed the Preceptor wasn't even giving them the opportunity to have any last talks.

He immediately summoned his flying sword and stood on it stably, crossing his single arm behind his back like a sage as his wyvern also morphed out of his shadow and roared to the skies.

Althea hoisted herself up its back, but Finn seemed to have other ideas. He flapped his metal-like wings and took to the skies after the wyvern and Preceptor.

It was in this way the Ossuarists left the Golden City of Xanth. Bearing straight for Feraxia, where the whole world now raced to… As it had become the center of focus unlike anything ever seen before…

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