Somewhere deep in a Tunaan forest outside of Rant, stirred an ominous figure. Its great size would have made discretion difficult, but that posed no issue. This creature only moved under the cover of darkness and knew countless ways to work and operate in secret. It had come to Rant because it had sensed a lingering presence that he was created to despise. The presence of a Fade.

  As he recalled the day's events, he grew ever agitated. If that contemptible jynx hadn’t interrupted-… ahh well, it did not do to dwell on it. Far better to deal with what is, rather than what is wished. At first, the encounter only served as a means of frustration and anger for the Firstborn. As he considered, however, he came to realize that this frustration could work in his favor.

  He sat alone and still in the dense forest, planning and plotting, thinking of how he would use the pieces at his disposal to win this cruel game he had in mind. His consideration was interrupted by an intrusive thought,

  “He grows impatient”

  The voice was faint. It was almost identical to that of the Firstborn. Only, when this voice spoke, it seemed only to do so with great struggle.

  “A uniquely human capacity”, scoffed the Firstborn

  “What shall I tell him?” Asked the voice.

  “There is a piece within my reach, but I must lie in wait. There are called ones here”

  A mental hiss entered into the mind of the Firstborn. It sounded like the angry whine of steam rushing from a crack in a pipe. It was fueled with disgust. The

  Firstborn allowed the noise to dissipate before continuing,

  “They are called, therefore they are likely to reach their goal. I will lay in wait until the right moment comes when I can both accomplish my task and rid the world of that disgusting stench of Fade”

  The silence was all that came in reply, within that silence was the sense of approval of the previous statement. Then, a question was relayed, “How long?”

  “I do not know”

  “He will not like that answer”, there was no hurry in the strained voice, it came only as a statement of fact.

  Rather than reply to the statement, the Firstborn had a question of his own,

  “Have you found anything of use?”

  “Whispers only. We have a trail”

  “That is good. He will be pleased.”

  Then the mental connection was severed. The Firstborn finally moved from his place. He rose to his full height and as he did he heard a gasp from behind. The Firstborn slowly turned his horned head to see what had made the noise. It was a man. The pitiful-looking figure stood there, knees shaking, grasping tight to an old sword that had a chipped blade.

  The Firstborn fully turned around, allowing the man to have a full view of his enormous figure, just before he ripped into the man’s mind. There was a cry of pain and the Firstborn stood motionless, drinking in the sweet sound. The man toppled over. The Firstborn drew close to the limp body and turned it over. The man was older, as indicated by his scraggly white beard and bald head. It must have been a local that happened to have wandered into the forest at the wrong time. He spared no thought of pity or remorse. He had none anyway.

  He laid a hand on the wanderer’s back and concentrated. Suddenly, the old man stirred. He stood up straight. From the old man’s eyes came a sickly green light in tandem with a slow trickle of smoke. After a moment, the smoke ceased and the light dimmed. The old man, whose mind was now entirely consumed by the Firstborn, looked up and smiled wide, before turning off into the forest and toward town.

  “You need a good name,” Diago said as he rested against the ferocious jynx.

  Aylah scoffed, “Well it's a good thing you are so brilliant at naming things, oh great Flying Kurigan”

  Diago glared at her, but simply turned to the jynx and began to scratch behind her ear, “Don’t listen to her Brunhilda, she’s not worth the argument”

  “Brunhilda?! You can’t be serious!” Laughed Aylah.

  “OF COURSE I am not serious, Tantoos,” Diago shot back, though maybe not with the kind of confidence he thought he had. It sounded more like he had retracted something he legitimately thought was a good idea.

  “Okay, good…Brunhilda,” Aylah shook her head.

  “Okay! I get it. I’ll think of something,” said Diago somberly.

  They had stopped nearby after leaving the hideout where Rayna was being held hostage. They were all very tired and could only make it so far. Soreness and fatigue were experienced by all, but what hit them all the hardest was the headache that had been steadily growing after the attack of the Firstborn. Now, they sat beneath an old oak tree just beyond the edge of a small forest, next to a salt flat that stretched for quite some distance. They were about a half-day journey from Rant.

  As they sat, nursing various wounds and headaches, Diago was feeling a tad insecure about the whole naming thing and decided a change of subject was in order. Thankfully, it was not hard to find what would turn the tide of conversation. He rubbed at a sore spot near the stitches on his back, which he was grateful had not broken open during yesterday’s various struggles, then he looked toward Thatch,

  “So…the Firstborn, what on earth is that thing…and was is ‘the Slain’?” Diago asked.

  Thatch did not look up, he had known this question was coming and was still mulling over how to explain it all.

  “They are supposed to be an old war story,” said Thatch as he continued to stare into the fire.

  “Seemed real enough to me!” Said Diago, still petting the jynx he was currently lying against.

  “Yes they are…very much real,” said Thatch as he continued to gather his thoughts and recollect all he knew of the Slain.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Aylah was listening but was also taking note of the young girl sitting next to Thatch. Rayna. She was a little younger than herself and a little shorter. Her hair was a curly red. She was very pretty, but she looked unfit for any sort of fighting. She seemed frail. Aylah was concerned for her after all she had been through. The poor girl had been kept in that cramped shed for many months with very little food or water and under almost constant surveillance. Aylah was well trained to deal with many trials, but even she would have backlash from such an ordeal. Amid her considerate thoughts of their rescued friend, Diago piped in,

  “What was it like for you? I mean with that Firstborn thing in your head making you try to kill your own dad and all?”

  There was a slight wince from Rayna at the mention of the Firstborn. Aylah, annoyed with his tactlessness, punched Diago in the arm.

  “Ow!” He cried

  “It's alright,” said Rayna in Diago’s defense, though she seemed agitated. She considered for a moment but then raised her head with a pained look in her eye, “I don’t remember much, only darkness and an intense amount of pressure. I felt like my head was going to explode”

  Thatch pulled Rayna in closer to comfort her. They were all sympathetic. To varying degrees, they all had felt the same thing with the Firstborn’s mental onslaught.

  “I am so sorry” Rayna quietly said to Thatch.

  “It’s alright, I have you now. You are safe,” Thatch whispered in reply.

  Diago did not hear them, he had turned his attention back to the jynx he was lying against, still mulling over a good name for her. While Diago did not hear the father and daughter whisper, Aylah heard them loud and clear. She felt a pang at their words. She wondered if her father would have- no, she shouldn’t think that way. She should just be happy for Thatch and Rayna’s reunion…but- she shook herself and decided to force the subject someplace else.

  “You say the Slain are supposed to not be real…what do you mean? No more dodging Thatch, what are they?”

  Thatch, looked up and heaved a sigh, “I don’t mean to dodge. It’s just hard to explain…the simplest answer would be to say that they are evil-”

  “Oh?! REALLY? How lucky we are to have you around to explain that!” Interrupted Diago, “I was under the impression that the Firstborn’s soul-crushing attack on our heads was an outreach of cordial friendship!”

  Next thing Diago knew, he was face first in the dirt, Aylah’s hand against his head.

  “Please continue,” said Aylah calmly.

  Thatch nodded, he had long since accepted that this was simply how Aylah and Diago related to one another. Rayna was not so accustomed was was quite scandalized. Thatch pressed on,

  “It would be best to start with the Fades. What do you know about them?”

  “Nothing,” said Diago, his voice partially muffled by the ground.

  Aylah rolled her eyes, released his head, and groaned in frustration, “Sunburn, I told you about them the other day!”

  Diago raised his head and cocked his brow, “You did? Then you really should learn to explain things in a more gripping way, Tantoos, 'cause I got nothing.”

  A fire lit behind Aylah’s eyes. The headache that was felt by all was making irritability much more available to each of their tired minds. Thankfully, a calming and steady voice cut through the building tension,

  “THAT’S ENOUGH OUT OF THE TWO OF YOU OR I’LL MAKE SURE YOU

  BELIEVE YOU ARE FROGS FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT!”

  Aylah and Diago both looked over. Thatch was also wide-eyed, staring at Rayna who was now standing, pointing at the two quarrelers, and looking quite fed up. Diago and Aylah looked to Thatch. He looked back and raised his shoulders, just as confused as them.

  “Well…I’ll make Dad make you believe you are frogs!” She looked back to her father.

  “I- I don’t know how to do that” Thatch muttered

  “Oh.. well- SOMETHING will happen! So calm down!” Rayna then plopped down next to her father with crossed arms.

  Diago and Aylah kept their eyes on Rayna. Even the jynx looked stunned by her sudden outburst.

  Diago whispered to Aylah, “Wow…short fuse”

  Aylah gently nodded.

  After an appropriate amount of silence had passed, Thatch attempted once again to explain, “I will do my best to explain all I know, but you should try to understand that for me, the line between reality and fiction is only defined by our experience today.” They nodded in response to his statement, while he took one final moment to ready himself. Then he began,

  “To start; the fades. Not much is known about them, but it is best to call them a type of manifested, mystical conscience that drives the forces of this world. The result of their meddling has always ended well for those who followed their direction. In contrast, for those who denied the call, everything ends in tragedy either for the one called or for those around them.”

  Diago couldn’t help but ask, “Is it even possible to deny? Even now, I can still feel the drive to accomplish what it said.”

  Thatch nodded, “Your will was never against the Fades in the first place.

  Furthermore, they came to direct you, not contradict what you were already doing. Long ago, during the final days of the Great Weavers, there was a weaver whose power rivaled even Eeshak’s. His name was Daegan. Legend says that he was confronted by three Fades while he was in the land of Meremoth.”

  “Three?” Asked Aylah.

  “Yes, to be met with one is rare. One can only imagine how vile a man would have to be to be confronted by three. You’d expect that anyone faced with such power would bend immediately, but Daegan was cunning and had anticipated being warned by a Fade. Somehow, he had devised a way to take hold of them and mutilate them. He did not merely ignore their call, he corrupted them beyond recognition. When he had finished, the Fade’s that had come to warn and guide became the Slain, born to hate and wage war on any and every creature, save their master.”

  “He changed the Fades…and turned them into his pets?” Aylah’s incredulity was apparent.

  Thatch, understanding her surprise, nodded, it was also hard for him to believe it. “No one knows how. It is said that during the Arochm he used the Slain to dismantle his enemies from the inside out. Rumors of glowing eyes and betrayals were all that lived of the Slain. One day the reports of Slain incidents stopped and they disappeared from the narrative. Leaving behind a cruel legacy.”

  They all sat in consideration for some time, trying to come to grips with what they were up against. Diago knew that certain dangers would exist within the journey he was commissioned to take on, but this was a lot to take in. A couple of questions began to rise up in his mind,

  “So what did they look like, other than the glowing eyes? Also, you said three

  Fades confronted Daegan, does that mean there are only three or are there more?”

  Thatch shook his head, “I wish I could give you a certain answer. I entered the war near its conclusion. All I can say about what they look like is that there was one story floating around from a survivor of an incident. He claimed he saw a massive creature with the same sickly green eyes. As the story goes, it has horns all over its head and no moth. As for how many there were, the story says that there were three Fades, but that’s all it says. Which means, that’s all I know.”

  That marked the end of any information that could be shared about the Slain. From here on, they all understood that they would have to be cautious concerning this mysterious enemy that had targeted them. After they had spent enough time digesting the information, the conversation shifted to what was to be done next.

  “We have to find Trig,” said Thatch, “The fade made that clear.”

  “The problem there is that we have no idea where he could be.” Said Aylah as she pulled out her bow and began checking the folding mechanism for any issues, “Saarsken had that information, or at least a place to start, but now we don’t even know if he is still alive.”

  They all agreed on that point. Diago stirred in his spot…something was nagging at him. He felt certain that there was a piece to the puzzle at his disposal, but he didn’t know what it was. He tried to recall memories of interactions with Saarsken for any clues. Suddenly, pieces began to fit into place in his mind. He remembered the bandits he and Aylah had come across outside of Rant. He realized now that they must have been Saarsken’s men, looking for Trig. He then recalled Saarsken’s words on that platform after Diago had won the race. In his attempt to taunt Diago, Saarsken had given him the clue he needed. It was like an echo in his head as he remembered the man’s mocking voice:

  “When he came to the tents, he paid off his debts and hurried off soon after, and the men that followed, lost track of him heading west.”

  He then recalled the last time he interacted with Trig himself.

  “I think I know where to start,” Diago suddenly stated.

  Everyone looked at him. Diago, staring into the fire in thought, began to mutter, “I could be wrong. It might be a long shot, but it's our best bet right now.”

  “Just say it, Sunburn” Aylah interjected.

  “Yeah, we are all ears,” Thatch chimed in.

  Diago looked up from the fire and at his companions and said,

  “We need to find Hult”