Derek sped through the rain-soaked jungle, the wind tearing through the leaves as Vanda did her best to chart a viable path through the chaos. More than once, the NOVA’s stabilizers kept him from sliding and face-planting into the mud.

  The flames from the magically boosted micro-missiles had finally died down, leaving only a thin black column of smoke curling up into the gray clouds. Everything that remained of his attack.

  Well, “attack” might be giving it too much credit. It was more of a flashy getaway plan.

  Derek had no illusions that the explosion—big as it was—had actually finished the thing off. Ithara had done an amazing job enhancing his missiles with fire magic, but whatever was happening in this place went far beyond anything he’d faced so far.

  A mysterious, regenerative force kept spawning new monstrosities… and bringing back the ones he’d already killed.

  That damn undead priest, Elias, had already managed to stitch himself back together and stand up like nothing had happened—after Derek had literally turned him into paste under the NOVA’s armored boots.

  That cracked Life Sphere seemed to be healing him from pretty much anything, and right now, Derek was fresh out of ideas on how to end the fight.

  Any fight.

  He could try taking the Sphere out of the equation. But smashing it would probably unleash all its energy at once. Not exactly a genius move.

  Absorbing the Sphere’s power might be an option, but getting close enough to Elias just wasn’t in the cards right now. Not with that stitched-together abomination acting like his personal bodyguard.

  No, he needed to find the others. Maybe they knew something he didn’t. Especially Tunga. That oversized ape—Spirit of the Beast and all—had been getting info straight from the source. Maybe he even knew how to stop Elias.

  Derek shoved aside a heavy branch dripping with rainwater and slammed the NOVA to a sudden halt, skidding across the muddy ground.

  A village emerged through the mist. Wooden shacks leaned like drunkards, their thatched roofs sagging under the weight of rain and rot. The clearing they circled was eerily still, the mud untouched by footprints—as if no one had walked there in days. Or weeks.

  Farther back, a crumbling temple loomed, its spire cracked and half-swallowed by ivy. On either side stood squat stone buildings, their windows hollow and black, like empty eye sockets.

  A wooden animal pen creaked nearby, its gate swinging open and shut in the wind with a slow, repetitive thud, like a heartbeat that refused to die.

  Rain smeared the world into blurred silhouettes. Like peering through a veil. A veil that hid something rotten.

  No trace of Rothmere’s polished architecture here. These were humble homes, built by hand, sweat and time poured into every nail and beam.

  The people of Ebonshade.

  “Vanda, scan the area. Are there any humans in the village? Alive, I mean.”

  “I’m detecting life signs. Toward the temple.”

  Derek frowned. “Nothing in the nearby houses? No survivors tucked under a bed or in a closet?”

  “Sorry, Derek. I’m not picking up anyone—dead or alive—in those buildings.”

  He sighed. “So they either fled into the jungle or joined the undead.”

  “Anyone who fled into the jungle would’ve reached Rothmere by now. No, they’re still here. Either hiding in the village, or…”

  Derek cursed through gritted teeth. “Shit. What the hell happened here?”

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  “I’ve been analyzing the ambient energy signatures since we arrived,” Vanda replied. “There’s a strong background trace I can’t identify.”

  His brow furrowed deeper. “A background trace? Any idea what it is?”

  “Derek, you’re not listening. I just said I can’t identify it.”

  “Don’t play coy, Vanda. You wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t have a theory. Remember who programmed you.”

  A beat. Then: “Fine. The energy trace matches the Life Sphere’s emission pattern. But it’s not uniform. It’s growing stronger the closer we get to Ebonshade.”

  “Got it,” Derek said. “So it peaks here in the village?”

  “Yes. But even here, the levels vary. The strongest readings are coming from the temple in view.”

  Derek zoomed in on the structure through his display. “Looks like a plain old stone building. Nothing special. You sure, Vanda?”

  “Absolutely. What, were you expecting neon signs and a gift shop?”

  He ignored the jab. “So if this energy trace is tied to whatever screwed up Ebonshade, the temple could be ground zero.”

  “Considering Elias was the priest here and used that temple for his ceremonies to Orbisar, it adds up.”

  Derek nodded. “Elias must’ve done something when the Life sphere fell and shattered. Maybe he brought it to the temple to contain it, but something went sideways.”

  “That’s possible. Are you planning to investigate the temple?”

  Derek shook his head. “No. First priority is finding Alyra and Sierelith and getting the hell out. I’ll pass this info to Isabelle. Let the Church deal with it.”

  “I think I understand,” said a woman’s voice behind him.

  His heart jumped. He whirled around, plasma cannons armed before he even realized it.

  A sword sliced through a low-hanging branch, sending a cascade of raindrops flying.

  Behind it emerged Isabelle and Tunga.

  They were soaked, glistening from the rain, but otherwise unharmed.

  Derek let out a breath, retracted the cannons, and nodded in greeting.

  Isabelle stepped forward, sword still in hand. “You think Elias caused all this, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. You reached the same conclusion?”

  She shook her head. “No. But I knew you would.”

  “And I knew you’d defend him,” Derek said.

  Tunga growled. “Blame doesn’t matter. Did you find the girls?”

  Derek let out a breath. “Yeah, but I found the priest too. I had to buy time for them to run, and I lost track of them.”

  Isabelle frowned. “That explosion… was that you?”

  Derek nodded.

  Her frown deepened. “Were you trying to torch the whole damn jungle?”

  “Actually, yeah. But it didn’t work. Not on the jungle, and definitely not on that damn priest. He’s still out there. I’m sure of it.”

  Tunga thumped his staff into the mud, splashing droplets. “So what now?”

  Derek turned to Isabelle and smiled.

  She couldn’t see it through the helmet, but still went pale.

  “We go with my plan, of course,” he said. “Origin point of all this crap is that temple over there. Vanda’s sure of it. That’s probably where Elias kicked this mess off and where he’ll go back.”

  Isabelle sighed. “Let me guess. I go there, wait for Elias, and pretend I’m still on his side.”

  Derek nodded. “Vanda picked up life signs near the temple. Hopefully the girls are among them. I need you to… steer Elias off-course if he shows. Keep him talking. Buy us time to sweep the village.”

  Tunga growled. “Too complicated. We should crush the priest.”

  Derek shook his head. “Already tried. He got back up almost instantly. And now he’s even more pissed off. Got any bright ideas on how to take him down so he stays down?”

  The shaman scratched his chin. “If Elias healed using a Life sphere… only way to stop him is with a Death sphere.”

  Derek raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t happen to have one stashed in that little pouch of yours, the one that looks suspiciously like a dried-up scrotum?”

  Tunga grunted. “No. But maybe we rip Life sphere from him. Then break him again. Harder. He not get up next time.”

  Derek grimaced. “Love the enthusiasm, but right now he’s got a giant undead mega-beast guarding him. Looked like someone stitched a dozen corpses together and hit ‘animate.’ I’d say… tactically unwise to jump back in. Especially with the girls still out there.”

  Tunga blinked. “You… not joking?”

  Derek exhaled slowly. “Wish I was.”

  Silence settled between them like fog.

  The rain kept pouring, and the sky grew darker by the minute. Water gushed from the rooftops of the abandoned huts. The temple loomed in the distance—tall, narrow, and made of cold stone. It had probably once been a beacon for this small community. Now, it was the heart of the nightmare.

  Maybe the villagers had gone there for shelter… only to find death dressed as a priest.

  And now Derek was asking Isabelle to walk right into that place.

  Alone.

  Suddenly, it didn’t sound like such a great plan.

  “All right,” Isabelle said, sheathing her sword with a sharp click. “I’ll head to Orbisar’s temple and try to… talk to Elias.”

  Derek swallowed hard. “You sure?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Wasn’t this your idea a minute ago?”

  “Exactly,” he said. “And you’re always the first to say my ideas are stupid. So why trust me now?”

  The corners of her mouth twitched into a faint smile. “Because I have faith, Derek.”

  He blinked. “Faith?”

  Her smile grew. “Is that really so hard to understand?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, folding his arms. “This whole ‘acting on faith’ thing? Never gonna make sense to me.”

  “Oh, please. Like everything you do makes sense.”

  He shrugged. “Of course. What kind of question—”

  She stepped in close and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her breath fogged the NOVA’s visor for just an instant. Rain streaked down her cheeks in thin rivulets, catching the HUD’s glow and turning her into something that looked carved from storm and fire.

  Her steel-gray eyes locked onto his, cutting straight through the Neutronsteel.

  He shifted awkwardly. He’d never really looked at her this closely before. “W-what is it?”

  “Derek,” she whispered, “you built an armor that speaks with the voice of the woman you lost. Tell me, what exactly is logical about that?”

  His mouth opened, but no words came out.

  There wasn’t a real answer.

  Or maybe there was, and it just hurt too much to say.

  Same difference.

  Isabelle rolled her eyes and turned away. “I’m going. If I see Elias, I’ll try to… persuade him to leave. I’ll signal if the path’s clear.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply. The Warden marched into the downpour, leather boots squelching in the mud, each step leaving a splash and a small crater behind.

  They watched her shrink into the gray curtain of rain, her soaked blonde hair whipping in the wind.

  But only the hair moved.

  She didn’t waver.

  Not once.

  “Stupid plan,” Tunga muttered beside him.

  “Yup,” Derek said.

  “And stupid Isabelle for listening to you.”

  Derek nodded again. “Yup.”

  Tunga grunted louder. “Girls probably already undead. Hunting us down to eat us.”

  Derek exhaled, still watching Isabelle disappear into the rain. “Tunga, your optimism is always so refreshing.”

  Another grunt.

  The only other sounds were the thunder, the downpour, and the rhythmic creak of a wooden gate banging in the wind.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Derek turned toward it, brow furrowing. “Hey… where’d all the animals go? These people lived off livestock. I haven’t seen a single calf.”

  That’s when the ground began to tremble.