“You saved me…?” I say to the Lion.

  “No. I've merely extended the lifespan that your cowardice will take away from you. When that magic blade comes down, you die. There's nothing I can do about it. Not here.” The Lion's eyes widen. “But you can help me with that.”

  “… Is that why you called me?”

  “Why else would I call you, Sieghart? Who in this world could really save us? Who in this world would really love us? Look at the heavens you cried out for, where are they now? Does the moon protect you? Has the sun risen through the clouds? Did your friend fight for you?”

  “No!” He roars before I can answer, his footsteps pulsing in my ears like the beating of my heart. “I warned you! I warned you to do as you were prepared to do! I warned you that the heavens would strike down your hand when you reached out for help! I warned you not to ignore me!”

  In front of me, he takes Arlong's place and hovers over the ocean of blood on the black beaches of yesteryear. I can see his intentions, clear as day, to consume me. Yet the visions roar in my chest louder than reason.

  Nostalgia. I hadn't felt the adrenaline rush through my body like that since a long time ago. Before I came to the village. Before I defeated Aldwyn for the first time, when I consumed his flesh and stained my jaw with his blood. Before I wandered through infinity—before time was time.

  “We are demons. We can't love. But I can help you do what these traitors would never do for you. I can set you free. I can make true the hatred you feel for this tyrannical cosmos.” He points to the obelisk, which glows in the distance and towers over the Unknown. “Your weakness won't allow you to destroy the obelisk. But I can give you that strength. I can give you the knowledge you have sought so long, and which neither the gods nor Morgana nor Aldwyn have granted you!”

  No.

  I grab my hair and pull it so that the pain returns to my consciousness. My vision blurs and my ears ring.

  “I-”

  He kneels, then holds out his hand. His deformed face leaks into the corners and shows the demonic nature that hides behind the farce of the angelic lion. Thousands of eyes lost in an incomprehensible void.

  “Give me your hand,” he says. “And destroy everything.”

  The obelisk glows in front of me, and Lugnir's light rips my face from top to bottom against the ground. Blood splatters across the emerald, I feel my skull cracking and leaking something it shouldn't-- but my eyes refuse to be cut.

  My limbs twitch and ignore the limitations of mere material. The air concentrates and ignites around me, then compresses over my hands. I swing them around me as I consume the emerald and hear the screams that flee from my presence. I see arms being taken away and ashes spreading across the green, so I shape the destruction over my fingers and allow the Unknown to put the anchor of flesh back in its place.

  “Ifrit,” the voices shout. “Maelstorm,” replies the Lion.

  My voice rises above all the others. Coming from the depths that overcome the storms, the cry spreads through the forest:

  “IGNITE!”

  The ball of fire sets sail and deforms the wind. It consumes the moonlight and replaces it with crimson blood that explodes in a hurricane. Flames try to reach the sky and cast shadows over the darkness, the red storm rises like one of the storms of my dreams and not only burns the trees, but also tears them down.

  Thunder and lightning scar the skies with and illuminate the gray, screams are silenced by death, calamity is ceased with silence that disperses into the night. In front of me, a trail of destruction opens up and contaminates the earth right up to the wreckage of the obelisk.

  Demon.

  I spit out a laugh. Then I spit blood. My face burns, glued by the shadow that holds my body together. Unfortunately, the material anchor can't support the weight of the beyond. My knee touches the ground as I struggle for air. Another laugh, then another, then another.

  There's something funny about that. Where were the swords that were pointing at me? Collapsed bodies—some dead—are thrown against the trees, their bodies twisted in tears and pain. What's wrong?

  Nothing.

  Knowledge. My chest burns and blood falls to the ground. Images come and go, becoming clearer and clearer in the story told by my mind. But there are still pieces missing. Important pieces, a context for the randomness.

  I close my eyes and grab Chaos to bring it back. A little more and I could know everything. A little more and I'd unlock the secrets that would give me control. One more-

  “Thank you.” Aldwyn says.

  “…?”

  I open my eyes wide and force myself upwards. All around me, the stare of the forest beasts shines like stars behind the night.

  “Normally, mana is all we need to support magic. When a power greater than the authority you have invades you and is used in this way, it is difficult to control the spasms of the flesh. One of the reasons for its uselessness, the ancients would say.”

  “… How …?”

  He comes closer.

  Tall, he stretches out as big as his four-meter silhouette that hid behind him. Now I see his flesh—a warrior's body wearing the tribal robes of a shaman. A bearskin belt covers his waist, others, his back. His skin is dull blue and reflects in the silver moonlight, his face is covered by a demonic mask that clings to his skin.

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  Aldwyn.

  The monster watches the moonlight.

  “She tried to stop me many years ago. It's a shame Morgana didn't have enough power to do it. Unfortunately, that priest meddled in my affairs. But he can't kill me. The Lion promised me that no man could.”

  “Ifri-” Blood spurts against the destroyed floor. I feel the magic coming to me, but it burns in my veins before it reaches my hands.

  “Oh, Sieghart… What happened?”

  The demon had also promised me the power to destroy the pillar—but granting me more than I can bear would only kill me. Without the Authority, I feel the secrets I have fought so hard for slip from my fingers. In front of me, the fairy reminds me that the pact that granted me power, once vital, is now useless.

  “How…?”

  Aldwyn smiles behind his mask: “A dozen half-truths turn into rumors. Then the rumor becomes true. The village chiefs kept you close so that you could, one day, destroy me around me. They kept their whispers secret so that they wouldn't be heard by the trees. They didn't succeed.”

  One step. Aldwyn turns to the soldiers, approaching one of them and forcing him awake with the desperation of his presence. Awakening, the soldier screams in fright and props himself up against a tree, only to be pinned down by its wood. He reaches for the cold iron sword, but his hand is severed before he can wield it.

  “No!” I spit out a laugh, blood, and worry.

  Laughter?

  Why am I laughing?

  I squeeze my eyes shut to regain consciousness. I charge at Aldwyn and pull out the remaining mana. I intensify my force and punch his spine, but the figure doesn't move.

  The fairy stops her movement and turns to me. Her face sends shivers down the base of my spine, but my gaze remains fixed.

  He smiles.

  The creature pushes me with a swing of its arm into the center of the crater. I roll down the emerald and feel the pain burn against my back. I struggle for air, then concentrate to pull.

  Aldwyn raises his arm.

  “IGNITE!”

  A small sphere of fire is expelled from my hands and burns Aldwyn's shoulder, who raises his hand towards the soldier and blasts him into the ground.

  “Stop-What are you-”

  He takes the remains from her hand, grabs them and devours them.

  “No! How?! Like you-Why are you here?!”

  He chews on the corpse—his mask moves to accommodate the movements of his mouth—and, turning to his next prey, he answers me:

  “I said that destroying the obelisk would bring you pain. I never said it would kill me.”

  The men set out to destroy the obelisk that would destroy Aldwyn. Night, however, is the time when the threshold between the World of Faerie and the World of Man is closest. On a night with a full moon, like today, the power of Chaos weakens this veil as if tearing a cloth and allows fairies to pass from one side to the other.

  The forest had been his challenge, but its misapplied power had an explanation. The campaign, the bosses, my dreams.

  “… You planned this. You-you planned all this…?”

  Aldwyn devours the other soldier, who is still alive. He crawls over to the next one, his humanoid form moving like a hungry predator.

  “The Priest sealed me in an obelisk between the worlds. If destroyed, I would still be trapped outside. My whispers make their way through the trees, and a dozen half-truths become rumors. The rumor becomes the truth, and then they try to destroy me. But I didn't let them, because my freedom would not be achieved.”

  He walks up to another soldier and, in one movement, pierces his chest.

  “More whispers. More rumors. Now they thought they needed one like me. One who could circumvent the Order—who could use the power of his absence to tear the veil that separates the worlds. For that, Sieghart, I thank you. With the destruction of the obelisk, I am free. Through the torn cloth, I cross over.”

  The disorder makes ideas emerge, but even the mental clarity that comes from Chaos seems to fail. The power tries to flow through my body, but it gets stuck between the flesh and erodes it instead. I force myself to continue and jump on the fairy's back, conjure a shadow blade and strike her shoulder, but the dark blue aura defends it.

  I throw blades at his feet, tentacles at his neck, spears at his hands. Blocked and ignored, he breaks Frederic's spine with his bare hands and devours him.

  The next soldier-

  Arlong.

  I run to the man's body. I feel my body losing strength with every step I take as I conjure up another structure. I grab the man's body, strengthen myself with intensification, and push myself with the wind to run faster to Elron's body.

  I can't win a battle, but if I can get to the bodies, I can survive. I can save them. I can-

  The ground shakes. Aldwyn's hand punches the ground next to me and sends me tumbling. Arlong wakes up—the one most affected by the explosion, his arm already severed. He screams in pain, but intensifies and tightens his grip on Lugnir, never letting go of the sword.

  He tries to get up. Next to me, I see blood leaking out along with vomit. Pierced in the stomach by the fairy's sharp claws, the man's eyes struggle to stay open.

  They look at me one last time. An expression of pain and sorrow that I can't properly describe—they look behind my soul as if they were apologizing to me. The warrior then falls and is devoured like all the others.

  One soldier remains.

  Elron wields the iron sword. Tears stream down his eyes as he sees the body of his father and companions devoured. He attacks, but he's too slow. Aldwyn sends him flying through the wind as if he were playing with his food, and his back cracks against the earth. His consciousness fades, and as Aldwyn approaches, his life will follow suit.

  I try to will my limbs to respond, then I channel again. I push against the wall that seems to impede my authority and feel the power of the Lion lift me up.

  Elron will die. My power can't save him. I need something else. I need-

  “DEBT!” The scream pierces through the scorched trees and reaches the monster before it can finish its massacre.

  The creature obeys.

  “A fairy hates being in debt!” I say. “I set you free, didn't I! Your life is mine!”

  Aldwyn turns to me. “If it weren't for you, I'd let go one way or another. Your debt and my respect for the First is why you're still alive.”

  He smiles. “But it's true that I'm in debt. Leaving him alive would already be the standard of our agreement, given the circumstances. Would you like to save him?”

  “Yes! Leave him alone!”

  “Very well.” He says, then turns to me. “But I'm so grateful. Leaving your friend alive, even an enemy, isn't enough. When you came to me, you were seeking knowledge. The Lion had promised you knowledge, but could no longer deliver it without your body falling apart. For then, he can be content with other aspects in posterity. I will give you the answers you so long for.”

  “… What …?”

  “You made a mistake in your billing, Sieghart. You should have chosen the village.”

  Aldwyn joins his hands in prayer. Then he turns them downwards. More and more arms come out of his body and mimic the sign, his form appearing and disappearing from my vision.

  “Gates of Chaos…”

  Something is wrong.

  That's-

  “Open.”