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It felt strangely rewarding to be traversing the world hunting for souls.
Well, it was physically rewarding too. Quinn’s emerald pouch was getting heavier by the day with rewards for retrieving souls, along with their bank filling up with little fun knickknacks that were less than useful but seeing the Envoy’s hopeful and mildly confused expression made it more than worth it. As for the city of Detlas itself, it was coming alive with decorations and bonfires and visitors were streaming in from all corners of the world. Quinn had already caught up with Enzan, the gate guard at Ragni, whom they’d been pleasantly surprised had remembered them (or perhaps their reputation was greater than they had considered). They also found a few of the hobbits at the local bar but after handing over the latest spirits to The Envoy, Quinn found themselves wandering through Detlas, both part of the festivities and separate from them. Like they were walking in a space that was half here and half far elsewhere.
Quinn had occasionally felt this way since that encounter in Lutho; chasing their soul through blackened darkened nothingness and learning how to walk alongside and as one with their soul. They’d been tempted by the protection of the monolith, had felt torn as their soul quacked in fear of the real world. Of what dangerous may arise. Of how they could both be hurt; Quinn’s physical body, and their infinitely fragile soul.
It was times like these that they found themselves whispering internally to that fragile, quacking being, speaking gentle reassurances, a mantra of ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ll protect us, we’ll be okay, I’m listening to you, we’ll do this together, we’ll be okay’ until the quacking died down and they felt gentle relief sweeping through their core.
The fear of their soul was easy to sooth this time, Quinn far more in tune now with the spiral of their inner self and calming it swiftly. Their mind was split, feet moving and eyes roving on instinct as they walked through the back streets of Detlas with a fingerless-gloved hand running over smooth stone and wooden walls. Still, they were not so distracted as to miss a glimpse of familiar warm brown through the windows of the inn.
The footsteps of the assassin froze in place, all attention back inside their physical body and eyes latched on that beyond the window. Warm brown like living earth shifting, showing strong arms and broad shoulders. Lines like lava tracing up and down in intricate patterns across the body, flaming with gentle yet burning warmth. A face turning to take in the buildings around them, and Quinn was sprinting from the inn on shoes that slid in the dirt.
Korzim turned in the slow Dogun way at the sound of sprinting feet, which was lucky for him because Quinn had no intention of slowing down and couldn’t make a single sound of warning or joy as they threw themselves into Korzim’s arms, hugging tight like they were never going to let go. The soft rumbling earthquake laugh of the Dogun filled their ears as he patted their back, returning the hug.
“Hello again… Quinn.”
Quinn gave him a squeeze. ‘Hello Korzim’ they said through their actions before they stepped back, smiling wide and quickly taking off their helmet and bandana to properly see him, and he they. With both discarded, they quickly asked how he was, excitement jittering their hands, the feelings of half-here half-not evaporated like a soul sucked into a cage to be taken home.
They talked for a long time, sitting on the coarse dirt and stone ground around one of the lesser bonfires so Korzim could keep warm. He told them all about the Heights, the revival process of all the encased Doguns and the building of the new city. Of course, the conversation turned to Axelus, and Korzim admitted that he didn’t know what to think of his father after all was said and done, but it warmed Quinn’s heart to hear of the Dogun rituals Korzim had given Axelus’ belongings. Axelus would have been beyond honoured, and Quinn was beyond proud of their closest friend as they embraced Korzim as warmly as the fire they sat beside.
It was lovely to hear Korzim’s voice again - Quinn hadn’t really realised just how much they’d missed their friend and the encased depths of the Molten Heights until now. The months since Axelus’ death had rushed by in a grey haze that was the ruins of the Olms and the garish green and sinister purple of Dern, and Quinn knew their shoulders were heavy with the revelations they’d found there. But all that weight disappeared when they talked to Korzim, who of course, after he’d finished his narrative, asked them about the past months in return.
Quinn had to think about it for a few moments before they responded, writing text into their filling notebook. ‘It’s been good, but busy. There’s always something else to fight, and sometimes I forget that I need rest as well. Wars never really stop overnight, as you know.’
Korzim rumbled his agreement. “What war… are you fighting now?” he asked, mild apprehension in his voice.
Quinn smiled lightly at him as they wrote their response. ‘A war older than the Doguns, as old as time. But it’s okay. I’m not fighting it alone. It’s not a war we have to win really. We just have to push it back into its own land, and that will be enough.’
Quinn still left daily to collect souls from across the world but now they returned nearly instantly to Detlas, to stay with Korzim as much as possible. Korzim said he was here to process his grief over Axelus, and while Quinn would have been happy to give him his space, the dogun sought out the assassin’s company just as much as they sought out his.
All too soon, the decorations were being taken down and packed away, and the great bonfires were being put out, and Quinn wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. They hugged Korzim tight, their armour protecting them from his heat as he returned the embrace, his voice rumbling.
“Come visit me… in the Heights?”
They nodded quickly, giving him a squeeze and internally swearing that they would.
“I bid you… safe travels, Quinn.”
‘I’ll do my best…’ Quinn thought to themself, but they leaned away to sign something different. ‘You as well, Korzim. Be safe.’
It took far too little time to walk with Korzim to the airship that would take him and others back to Gavel, and their final farewell hug was far too short, and all too soon Quinn was left standing alone on the walls of Detlas, watching the airship soar away, carried by gentle winds. Their heart already ached with the loss of their friend, even if he was going back to his home, now made a safe place for him.
As they turned around and saw dozens upon dozens of other warriors in diamond swarming the walls, shouting and calling to each other and celebrating a festival well spent, Quinn had to remind themselves that they never were really alone. Friendships didn’t break just because you couldn’t be beside the person you missed. There was comfort even in a crowd of like-minded strangers.
(There was a photo that would be released on the front page of the following week’s Ragni newsletter. It showed a large group of diamond-wearing warriors, all gathered for a group photo with the event blimp behind them. Many smiled at the photo, while others were stern and strong. Hidden in the photo, standing in neither the front nor the back, nor the middle nor the sides but rather nearly lost in the crowd, was a blindfolded individual wearing a helmet inlaid with intricate, subtle flame designs.)
Hardly two weeks later and Quinn was travelling to Cinfras on their way to the Molten Heights. Through the sort of skill only Quinn could possess (not that they’d ever admit it and risk damaging their pride), the Canyon of the Lost horribly disorientated them all over again, and so instead of travelling to Thanos and taking the trading tunnel to Rodoroc, they found themselves in Kandon-Beda at the edge of the Sky Islands.
I know, how further wrong could you get?
It was good timing though, and they had to internally apologise to Korzim for the delay as they lent their skills to Rhay (who was apparently Maxie’s husband, and Rhay was shocked that Quinn didn’t mention that they knew Maxie?! How were they to know that the Corkian they were speaking to was the husband Maxie had never named?) and Ineos (a dogun scientist! But so far away from the Heights, that was so dangerous for him). But apparently they needn’t have apologised to Korzim, as their excited signs to Ineos informing him that the war was over had them flying over to the Molten Heights to seek help, and it was none other than Korzim who greeted them.
Perhaps Quinn still didn’t know how to feel towards Paku and Draani, but they knew honest and open intentions and guilt when they saw it. They also knew what unwavering stubbornness looked like, and they were bristling at Paku’s words suggesting for them to not do anything…
Turns out that the Great Protector can be rather convincing when it shakes hard enough to send all of the Molten Heights into an earthquake.
It was funny how Draani reminded Quinn of Axelus in some ways, and how they also got to see a more untamed side of him in that freezing cave of True Ice. In a very short time, Quinn found themselves admiring the king in some ways, if only for changing his attitude towards the doguns so quickly and with such passionate determination. And it was that which made them step in front of the dwarven king when the freed Dogun Elders approached, arm out to protect him, to force the Elders to pause.
Turns out it wasn’t necessary. The Great Protector really was very convincing.
Perhaps it was a good thing that Quinn had been rendered physically incapable of making any sound, because they may very well have squeaked excitedly upon seeing the pure fire and earth magic of the dogun Elders, feeling the core of the earth shift to obey their will (and such a childish-gleeful squeal really would have ruined their reputation). They didn’t understand High Gavellian (that was Casey’s realm of expertise) but if the Elders used it then they may very well end up learning. And they were more than proud that Korzim was allowed to come with them to the Great Protector, standing beside their firey friend as they travelled, finally ending at the feet of the Canyon Colossus.
“Great Protector... It is furious,” mused Astal, who must have been the most respected of the Dogun Elders given how the other two Elders followed his words. He huffed. “Foolish dwarves... This is what has come...of your needless war... You are fortunate...to have freed us now...”
Quinn wasn’t surprised by their curt words of disapproval and anger but it still made them bristle in annoyance. But to his credit, Astal did not let the past get in the way of the present. “Desint... Iscor... I will prepare... the ritual. Defend me... as I do so.”
The other two Elders stepped forward and turned their backs to the Protector as Astal strode between the two raised pillars of stone. Fire started spewing from his hands, burning in a bright circle with pillars of flame that appeared and disappeared with Astal’s murmured words. The other two Elders, Desint and Iscor, looked at each other as if in some wordless conversation, and then looked at Quinn, who hadn’t even realised they’d stepped forward until they were pinned by their gazes. Not realising they’d been called by the ritual.
“Human,” Desint said slowly but firmly. “We will pull the Protector... away from the brink. That is all we can do now. All the power... we can muster.”
“You must enter... these sacred grounds,” Iscor continued. “Battle through it to the end... Knock some sense... into it.”
Quinn nodded once, not even questioning the scale of the task that had been placed upon their shoulders. There was no space for fear now, and even less space for doubt.
A shuffle behind them made them turn to face the lab coated dogun. “Adventurer... We are counting...on you. We will try to...support you however we can,” Ineos promised, and Quinn didn’t even get time to nod and smile before Rhay was speaking.
“We'll do the best we can out here! I have some ideas already-“
“Rhay, this isn't the time,” General Elix scolded, brisk and business-like as a good villager is. “Human. We have your back. You can do this.”
“You have faced...worse odds before...have you not?” Korzim asked, his slow, methodical voice a familiar grumble in Quinn’s ears. “You will face them...again.”
And to him, Quinn gave a big, warm smile.
(Perhaps no one realised the depths of trust Quinn held in the doguns. Perhaps no one realised the possible dangers of the assassin’s faith, nor of the lengths they could go. Not even Quinn themself was aware. But if the doguns trusted they could do it, then who were they to doubt?)
“It is done,” Astal declared. “Desint... Iscor... Take your positions. We must... hold it back.”
The other two doguns took their places atop the stout stone pillars, Desint leaping up with an un-dogun-like agility, Iscor simply appearing in a burst of flame. Astal began chanting again, louder than before and while Quinn couldn’t understand the words, the familiar near-musical-like nature of High Gavellian soothed them. The ground rumbled as the Great Protector heard them, but the cracks in the ground didn’t close. The Protector wasn’t going to play nicely.
“We will... hold it from here... human,” Astal spoke. “We will not... be able to hold it... for long...” The dogun reached into a nearby pillar of flame, turning away from the Protector to hold out to them a long shard of what looked like pure fire. “This crystal...will let you harness...our flame. Use it...to break through...its defences.”
Quinn nodded once, sharply. They made sure their dagger harnesses were strapped tight to their forearms before they carefully took the crystal and prepared to walk forward-
“Quinn…”
Paku’s voice made Quinn stop short, turning in surprise. The dogun approached with slow steps (this was the first he had spoken directly to Quinn since the day of Axelus’ death) and stopped before the assassin. “Before you go. I will offer you... these powerful relics. Our people... have held them for... longer than I have lived.” As he spoke, the dogun dipped his hands into thin air which became fire, and drew out four flat discs of stone inlaid with brilliant green gems. “They may... help you on your quest,” he explained, handing them to the assassin. And oh, did Quinn know what they were getting. They had never touched Tol runes before, but they had seen murals and heard about their power, and hearing that they were so ancient, and so important to the dogun clan, perhaps even to Paku himself… Quinn felt their heart melt a little.
King Draani quickly stepped forward. “I cannot give you something as unique as what Paku has offered, but I can still lend you a sum from our treasury. Use it as you must, so long as you can calm that thing.” Quinn didn’t even ask why he was carrying a small fortune of liquid emeralds around in his pocket as he took them out and handed them over as well, wishing a soft “Good luck”.
The assassin’s heart melted into a puddle in their chest as their soul felt warm, briefly looking over the group with a warm smile on their face screaming the words they couldn’t speak. But there was no time for feelings as the ground trembled harder than before and Quinn quickly slipped their gifts into pockets and gripped the crystal in their hand as they sprinted past the ritual of the dogun elders, and into the darkness of the arch standing before the Canyon Colossus.
Their footsteps echoed on the living stone as Quinn ran forward, not quite into the body of the Great Protector, but close to it. Close enough that they could hear a giant heartbeat rumbling, though that may have just been their imagination. The room was grand and great, rough stone softened with grass and moss, natural and yet not quite. The only stable ground in this space was what Quinn ran on, and the rest hung in broken islands over an infinite blue void. If the Great Protector had already shattered what was standing under him… Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that.
The end of the platform ended abruptly, and the only apparent other exit was a blue-streaked hole far above them. And the only way to get up was the painstakingly designed stone circle directly underneath it.
Quinn was already internally thanking Paku as they ran up to the ritual circle, falling to their knees before it. It only made sense that the relics of the doguns gave access to the Great Protector, the being they spent hundreds of thousands of years watching over. The Tol runes glowed as green as the moss Quinn carefully wiped away to fit them into groves in the ground. They placed each rune in turn, rotating it to face the centre and listening to the low hum as the magic was absorbed. When the final one was placed and turned, a small slot in the centre slid open with the sound of stone against stone. Quinn carefully placed in the crystal given to them by the Elders, and the humming increased tenfold as the gem was a perfect fit.
The assassin stood, drew both their daggers, stepped into the centre of the circle, and turned their face upwards as stone, fire, and air surrounded them.
An anxious silence fell once Quinn disappeared into the darkness of the Canyon Colossus. There was little to do but wait and watch the Elders hold their ritual and feel the occasional tremors of the Great Protector as it shook the land. Rhay started to tinker and fiddle with whatever they had in his pockets, searching the nearby area for anything useful, but a word from Paku slowed their movements. “If the human cannot… calm the Great Protector… then nothing will… save us.”
It wasn’t a comforting thought.
Time stretched on, ticking past as cracks grew. No one could tell quite how long it had been, but they all knew what it felt like when the world was ending. A tremor worse than all the rest shook the air, the ground under their feet split apart, and the mountains wailed with the anger of the Great Protector. Astal started chanting again as the Elder’s ritualistic fire burned brighter, and General Elix muttered to himself the same words that Draani swore loudly. The doguns could nearly feel the world around them being torn apart, the fury of the Protector flaring brighter and brighter, cracks growing wider and wider and wider as the void below grew closer-
And then it stopped all at once.
The ground became still, the cracks stitched themselves together, and the Great Protector calmed. The world went from loud to absolutely silent, eerily silent, as even subtle vibrations that they hadn’t even noticed came to a halt. Rhay started cheering, throwing both arms around Ineos who chuckled at the open display of joy. Elix was nodding, seemingly undisturbed though the jitters in his body spoke otherwise. The Elders finished their ritual, sending sparks of flame flying up to the Protector’s chest to calm it further, lulling it into its natural sleep-like state.
Draani nudged Paku’s arm. “I knew they could do it, I wasn’t worried at all. Not bad for a human, ay?”
Paku rumbled in agreement. “Not bad… indeed.”
And Korzim watched the blackened darkness of the Great Protector, waiting for Quinn to re-emerge. A smile was on his face, but as the seconds ticked by into minutes, the smile grew tense. As the Elders finished their ritual and rejoined them, as Rhay’s celebrating calm down and Draani’s laughter faded, so too did the anxiety in Korzim’s chest grow, and the body of Axelus flashed behind his eyes, looking all too similar to a certain assassin. And still, no one walked out from the shadow of the Great Protector.
An awful silence descended on them as five minutes slowly became ten.
Draani was the one to awkwardly clear his throat. “Uh… Quinn should be back by now… right? Uh… Elders?”
They could offer no answer, and the thick, heavy dread in Korzim’s chest grew and grew and grew.
Quinn trembled, shaking, the blurred world swaying and spinning. They vaguely recalled fumbling for their last health potion, watching dumbfounded as the bottle slipped from their limp hand and shattered against the ground, the liquid seeping away. They saw red on their hand, covering their arm, splattered on the plates of diamond-blue scattered across the ground, and couldn’t figure out if it all was significant. Their feet were heavy as they stumbled but their head floated on a thin string connected to them in some way. Were they still walking? Had they fallen? What was the breeze they could feel on their face? They felt weightless, free…
It was only Quinn’s bracelet, locked firmly and loyally around their wrist, that was the reason they survived the massive drop from the top of the Great Protector. They landed face-down on the stone with enough force to crack the path and it would have broken every bone in their body if it hadn’t been for that precious lightweight magic. The shattered pieces of their chestplate and leggings crumbling around them, and their half-destroyed helmet rolled off their head.
The swift change from light to heavy snapped Quinn into awareness, at least a little, at least enough to register a deep, panicked cry from somewhere. Their body felt numb and distant, their limbs slow to obey and as weak as a newborn as they tried to lift themselves up. They barely got to their elbows before they collapsed again with a pained groan. Their head was rested sideways, eyes heavy. It’d be so easy to sleep…
There was brown in their narrow and blurred vision, and orange, with a glow and a deep rumble that was enough to tick something in Quinn’s mind. They forced their heavy eyes open, seeing the dogun colours in a blurred world. They couldn’t understand the rumble, but the sound twisted something sad in their fragile heart, and that wouldn’t do. They tried to smile, flicking their fingers at the burning dogun as much as they could, unsure if any of it was successful, but did it matter? They were so tired.
A hand was placed on their head, warm and steady, and the rumble came again like a question. Quinn couldn’t nod the head that they didn’t have, but they could blink their eyes before they fluttered shut, barely aware of the warm hands that touched and moved their battered, bruised, and bloodied body.
Consciousness came to them in brief flashes.
Blue sky high above them, clear even of clouds, then swallowed by familiar black and red.
A heated set of arms carrying them, their head against a chest that burned comfortingly even through an off-white lab coat.
Fire burning above them in looping circles and dizzying spirals, a hard surface against their back and head and legs, deep droning voices lulling them back under.
A rougher, earthier voice speaking, saying something about rest.
And then blessed darkness.
Quinn’s drift to consciousness felt fast, but in truth they had probably been awake for quite some time before they realised their eyes were staring up at a stone and wood ceiling and their breaths were coming evenly through their lungs. It took a few seconds more for them to realise they were thinking, and feeling, and alive, and tension they didn’t have drained out of them.
After moments of simply dwelling in the fact that they had survived, they began to take a proper notice of the situation at hand. They were wise enough (read: had been dumb enough to get themselves seriously hurt multiple times) to take inventory of their body and hazy memories before starting to move.
And the memories were indeed hazy at best. Sifting through scattered and unfocused images, they could only really gather that they’d been hurt enough in their fight against the Great Protector for the world to fade out of reality, though surely they hadn’t been that far out of it to start seeing pink trees. That led to a mental examination of their body; feeling the weight in their limbs, the bedsheets and clothes that touched their skin. And they found that they were… surprisingly unhurt. Their arms and legs were not weighed down by heavy plaster keeping joints locked and still, and their chest didn’t complain of the roughness of bandages with each expansion. There was only the comforting lethargy of a long, long rest.
But inactivity could never grip Quinn for long. They slowly stretched each of their limbs, feeling their muscles ache as they got back to work, and slowly slipped their legs out of the bed. They were dressed in loose black pants sweeping to their knees and an equally loose white short sleeved shirt that left their arms free and looking down at them, Quinn started. They hadn’t considered the consequences of daily fighting (frequently for their life) and running around in full body armour, swinging up and down onto horseback, leaping up mountains and, again, running for their life. But the evidence was clear in their body.
Their biceps were big and muscled and toned, faint scars from where their armour had failed to protect them slashing their pale sun-hidden skin. They felt a flash of remorse, as if they missed sun-kissed skin and freckles that were now pale dots but the feeling was gone too fast, just as everything of Quinn’s past vanished like a morning breath. The muscles travelled through to their forearms, their fingers and palms scarred from constant work and training (which had often involved accidentally cutting their hands when they were still learning how to use their weapons). Strangely enough, the burns scars on their right hand from Korzim were far more faded than they had been before – the angry red scar faded to a warm brown one.
The assassin blinked themselves out of their self-awe and quickly took in their room. It was plain but they recognised it as one of the Rodoroc castle rooms. All of their armour and accessories were missing, but their bag and other belongings were propped up next to the door, and a seat was beside their bed, and on the table between the two was a small unlit oil lamp, a used notepad, their bandana, and Quinn’s sheathed daggers.
The energy buzzing in their body made them impulsive, so Quinn didn’t bother to leave a note as they snatched up their daggers and used their extra sheaths in their bag to strap them to their thighs, slipped on their boots, tied their eye bandana around their neck, and snuck out the window of the room with no armour. They probably shouldn’t have scaled down the castle wall and taken a stroll through the Molten Heights while lacking their tough shell, but it was only a quick jaunt to the elevator, and Quinn still had their spells. Besides, there was someone they wanted to see.
The surface was unsuitable for the doguns but Quinn could understand why they chose to stay up here while their new home was being constructed. There was comfort in the familiar, and to so quickly dwell amongst those they had been at war with since their youth was simply not possible yet. So Quinn too drew comfort from the sight of the doguns walking around their village, dipping their head politely to a few as they approached the centre.
The campfire marking the centre of the camp, which had one been nothing but low-burning embers, now flared bright and proud with no need to be hidden any longer. A small circle of doguns gathered around it, talking in their low, slow way as they warmed themselves in their flames that fuelled their bodies. Quinn could easily recognise Korzim from his fellow doguns, by his appearance as well as his voice, even when he was sitting with his back to them as he was. They stood a respectful distance away with their hands behind their backs, allowing the doguns to speak in the privacy of their own village.
They’d been prepared to wait – forever if necessary – but only a handful of seconds passed before one of the doguns across the fire took notice of them. The head slowly came up, the low voice murmured something with Korzim’s name, and the once-exiled dogun slowly turned. Quinn was already smiling wide before he’d completed the rotation, and when the dogun rose and took the first steps closer, Quinn was quick to bridge the gap, running and embracing Korzim in a tight, warm hug. His arms just as tightly wrapped around them, their height difference making the embrace even more ludicrous and Quinn was tempted to laugh at it all…-
Until they felt Korzim start to tremble and hot liquid drip onto their shoulder.
Their face instantly dissolved into concern, knowing without looking that their friend was crying as he embraced them. The assassin quickly lent back just enough to check he wasn’t hurt somewhere, then gently tugged him back to the fire, sitting them both down where Korzim had been sitting before. The other doguns shuffled to their feet, and someone handed the human a rough, sturdy leather-like blanket to protect their skin from Korzim’s burning heat, and then they were left to relative privacy beside the fire. Whatever had upset Korzim, the other doguns seemed to know about it and Quinn was utterly left in the darkness.
Quinn was nothing if not patient for their earthen friend, holding him until long after the burning tears had stopped spilling. After long minutes, the dogun’s dripping tears came to a stop and he leaned back slightly, wiping his face. “I… am sorry…for this…”
The assassin didn’t let him finish his thought, cutting him off by pulling him close again and hugging him tightly. Despite his crying, Korzim chuckled faintly as he returned the embrace. “I… feared the worst when… you did not return. I… thought you might… have followed… Axelus.”
Quinn squeezed tighter for a moment, then leaned back so they could sign. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”
“It is… okay now. How… are you feeling?”
“Good!” Quinn signed with a smile. They held out their arms, showing to Korzim their unhurt nature before turning to sign. “Not sore at all. But I don’t really remember what happened.”
Korzim inclined his head. “That… does not surprise… me. You… were very hurt… You were… dying.” The word seemed like an effort for him to say. “The elders… used ancient magic… to heal you. The… dwarves gave… you a place to… rest. It has been… five days.”
Quinn winced a little. “Whoops,” they signed with a smile.
Korzim chuckled faintly again, seeming happier now, thank goodness. “The elders… said they wanted to… see you… when you woke…up.” But Korzim didn’t move, and neither did Quinn. So they sat there for a while, staring into the flames, leaning against each other and drawing comfort from the other’s presence that reminded them they were not alone in a world that seemed so against them.
But these things could not be avoided forever, and time found Quinn standing once again in the small council room of the Doguns. This time, the chief Paku was joined by his son Korzim as well as the three Dogun Elders: Astal, Desint, and Iscor.
The three elders had taken up positions on the opposite side of the table to the door, Astal beside Paku in the centre, with Desint on his right and Iscor on Paku’s left. Quinn half expected Korzim to join them as Paku’s reclaimed son and heir, but the comparatively younger dogun chose to stand beside Quinn with the door behind them. Quinn knew they didn’t have any of their armour and no protection save for their precious daggers, but they didn’t fear the doguns, not even these Elders (besides, if they really wanted to kill Quinn, no protection Quinn had could stop them).
“Human…” Astal began. “I see you… have awakened.”
Quinn nodded, bowing their head a little and signing slowly so Korzim, squinting at their signals, could understand and translate. “The human says… Korzim told me that… you saved me… with your ancient… magic. I am… in your debt.”
Astal’s flaming eyes flicked to the heir. “I would like… for the human to… speak for… themselves.”
Korzim inclined his head. “I apologise…. Elder, but the… human cannot speak. For… as long as I… have known them… they have never… said a word.”
Quinn tilted their head backwards, their hand finding the scar on their throat to show the elders (the injury had become worse after Axelus’ death – where they’d previously been able to laugh and growl, now they could do neither). Iscor nodded. “It is good… for Korzim to speak… for the human.”
Astal’s hum was low but he was apparently convinced. “Very well. Human… Paku and Korzim have… spoken at length… of your involvement to… stop the war. The… Dwarven King was… also very… approving.”
“But your kind is… foreign to us,” Desint spoke. “Your kind did… not walk the earth… when we did. We… do not know you.”
“It is not… your fault that… your kind resemble… the dwarves,” Iscor spoke, sounding perhaps more apologetic than the other two Elders.
Quinn waited patiently, not sure what the Elders were trying to say but dread started bubbling in their stomach. After all, these Elders had no reason to trust the dwarves; Quinn had seen for themselves the treachery of the dwarves that had led to the entrapment of many, many doguns. But peace was struck and the doguns were being revived, and everything they worked for could not be destroyed now.
“I do not… disbelieve the words… of Paku and Korzim,” Astal said. “But I… do not yet trust… your intentions. This… may well be… another trap. To end… the Doguns while… we are weak and… unsuspecting.”
“We wish… to hear your story,” Iscor informed. “As you choose… to tell it. And then… we will compare.”
“We wish to know… why you came… to the Heights,” Desint added, “why you… aided the Doguns… why… you fought for peace… for two people who… are not yours.”
Quinn nodded but they were frowning in thought. Such a story required a lot of talking and a lot of translating from Korzim, who was not as fast nor as fluent in sign as would be necessary. And some things would be hard to explain. It would nearly be easier to just act out the events, to show the Elders…
Korzim was speaking something in his low rumble when Quinn’s eyes flashed open wide and their hand automatically reached out to grab his arm. Show the Elders, of course, it would be far easier! Well, it should be, assuming the theory bubbling in Quinn’s mind ever since they heard whispers in the Olm ruins about ‘the Eye’, ever since they’d noticed the distinct pattern with each of the strange orb-like creations that had shown them the past. They motioned for Korzim’s attention and began to sign.
Korzim frowned again as he began to translate. “The story is… too long to… tell. If we… go to the… Quinn, I… do not know… that sign.”
Quinn frowned, reconsidering their words, and tried a different tactic which again Korzim translated. “Words… can lie. The… dwarves have already… lied to you… with words. I… can show you… instead of telling… you, to… show you… the truth of… what I have… seen, and… why I… came.”
Astal considered. “And how… would you show… us?”
“There is… a special place…” Korzim translated, “at New Taloka. With… your… I don’t know that… either Quinn.”
Quinn couldn’t help but sigh a bit with a smile (they hoped their idea to show worked, otherwise this would be a long translating session. They resigned, and Korzim understood.
“With your permission…. Elders, Quinn… will visit… New Taloka with… us. And they would… like King Drani to… come with us.”
Quinn saw how the Elders automatically recoiled at that and quickly added on more signs for Korzim to speak. “They say that… their story… involves the King too. There… will be no… other dwarves. Just… the King, and… us.”
“My Elders,” Paku spoke at last, waiting for their gazes and silent permission before continuing. “King Drani has… been assisting efforts… to bring back our… tribe. He… can be trusted… in New Taloka.”
The Elder still did not seem happy but they agreed. Paku sent a message to King Drani to meet them at New Taloka, and Quinn was quite happy to see that he had the insight to respond promptly, already there when they arrived. He beamed at the human the moment he saw them.
“Ah, Quinn! You’re awake! You gave the healers a fright by disappearing like that, they’re not used to corpses walking!”
Quinn silently laughed and the King smiled at them before bowing to the three Elders. “Elders, I know, ah… my presence here is probably… not fully welcome.”
“Paku has… vouched for you,” Astal spoke. “You are… welcome. For now.”
Quinn let out a small breath of relief and waved them towards New Taloka, taking the lead. A few doguns and dwarves alike were walking there but all of them moved out of the way of the party. Quinn didn’t enter the city proper but rather moved towards the side carved into the sides of the giant volcano that was all of the Molten Heights. There was a structure there that looked as old as the Dogun buildings and just as sturdy, but it was of a slightly different architecture; not quite as blocky, more streamlined and sleek even if it was made of the same rock.
“I remember… the day this formed,” Desint said. “The earth rumbled… and shook with… great strength. We thought… the end was… upon us.”
“We took it… as a sign,” Astal agreed. “Though none… of us could… enter. No one… was worthy.”
That was good news for Quinn’s theory. And also bad news if the other part of their theory didn’t work. They walked up the two small steps to the defined ring around the edges of the platform, carved with ancient symbols Quinn couldn’t yet decipher. They stepped forward, feeling the barley-there momentary resistance as the magical barrier let them pass and they stepped beyond, turning to look at the doguns and dwarf.
The Elders were staring at them wide-eyed, making no move even when Quinn waved for them to follow. No wonder: Quinn had just entered their most sacred place that even they could not step foot in. It was Korzim, lovely trusting Korzim, who stepped forward first, walking up the two steps and hesitating for a moment before reaching out his hand. Quinn could tell when he felt the barrier and they held their breath in fear for a moment, but then Korzim’s hand broke through and the rest of him followed.
Elder Iscor came second, and when he also successfully passed, the other doguns did too. Draani came last, unsure of his permission to cross this sacred dogun site but Quinn waved him forward anyway. The assassin motioned for them to stand in a circle around the pitch-black orthogonal glass set into the centre of the floor. Astal opened his mouth to presumably ask a question but whatever it was died on his tongue as a gentle humming filled the air and light came from below that pane of glass.
A perfectly symmetrical sphere rose out of the ground, passing right through that pane of glass, glowing the firey reds and oranges and earthy browns that were characteristic to the Molten Heights. Quinn had seen it before (and similar things several times, actually) but for the others it was brand new. They watched with awe as the orb slowly rise, beams of light flickering to life and passing straight through it from the ground beneath to the ground above, rising up and up-
And stopped when Quinn suddenly stepped forward and put their hand on top of it when it reached their chest height.
The party blinked at them, more than a little confused. The assassin made no gesture towards them, their focus only on the orb as they undid their bandana from their eyes one-handed, letting it fall off and show their deep dark grey eyes. They tied the bandana around the orb, making sure the fabric passed through the beam from the top and bottom of the orb, and after ensuring it was secure they stepped back and returned to their place in the circle.
“… Uh, why’d you do that, hum- I mean, Quinn?” King Draani bravely asked, but Quinn just held up a hand for him to wait. They were watching the orb warily, waiting (would this work as they hoped it would? Would the orb blow up? Would it do nothing? Or worse, would it just show the fall of the Doguns in Taloka like it did before?).
The orb rotated slowly in place for a few long seconds as if it was considering. The beams of light flickered and the orb itself started to glow with a light from within as it span faster and rose until it was at eye-height. All their eyes were glued on it as it warped and whispered with words none of them could understand, spilling with light of all colours that carved runes in the air, and their visions shifted and faded and went black.
“Without getting into too much details, there’s… a few problems, with how it’s being governed.
I was going to ask if you had any way you might have been able to help.
Aha! Here’s the problem. It’s just a little Fleris… pretty affectionate, good if you can stand the heat.”
The voice was that of a dwarf, heard by them all before they blinked and their vision cleared to see said dwarf; red-brown hair plaited in the custom of the dwarves, a silver circlet with a blue gem on his head and work clothes that were dirtied. Beside him was an assassin – Quinn, certainly – clad in iron armour, looking a little charred around the edges but smiling wide. They both stood beside a damaged but usable cart, with an iron cage that contained several small Fleris in a comfortable looking nest of coals and low flames.
“Well, I say the work is thankless, but that won’t stop me, anyways. Thank you for the help, human. This would’ve been overwhelming alone,” the dwarf said, tapping the sides of the cage. “I’ll ask the local police force if they’ve found the traffickers. If they cut and run, well… I got a free cart for the ride home. There’s a thing for me to attend to there.”
“Who… is that?” Astal asked slowly, eyes narrowed on the dwarf.
“Axelus,” answered an unfamiliar voice. “Former crown prince of the dwarves.”
The gathered party turned in surprise to the unfamiliar voice, even Quinn who had to take a moment to realise that they must have the ability to speak in this memory, given that the voice was their own even though they hadn’t moved their mouth. They quickly set it aside to dwell on later and focused on answering the question.
“I met Axelus near the border of the Light Forest, very far from the Heights. We found trafficked Fleris and I helped him recapture them to bring them back to the Heights. He was there to try and gain support to free the doguns from the dwarves’ oppression.”
“A dwarf… supporting doguns?” Desint scoffed. “I find that… hard to… believe.”
“Then watch,” Quinn replied simply. “These are my memories, exactly how I experienced them, told with a magic as old as the Doguns. I can’t control what they say.”
The vision before them blurred to Axelus again but this time at a different place, smiling wide and holding up his hand to beckon Quinn to the front of a dwarven theatre. A blink, and dwarven actors in crudely made dogun masks were walking off stage, and Axelus had a scowl on his face and arms crossed over his chest.
“That was awful. Like I said before, this war was a genocide. Don’t believe any of the lies they try and feed you.”
Another blink, and a dogun was being encased by stone in front of them, Quinn’s expression of horror and disbelief plainly written on their face, the fading scream of agony echoing in the growls of anger from the living doguns with them. But like before, even in a memory, Axelus always moved first.
“Every year, every year, every single YEAR you do this. You all need to open your god-blessed eyes for once! Do you all really believe everything they tell you? Do you all just lap it up like dogs?! Our side won the war, but does that really mean we were in the right? I’ll tell you right now, it doesn’t!”
Another blink, and Quinn was on one side of metal bars while Axelus stood on the other side. “I see I got your attention. You’re interested in the truth.”
In the memory, Quinn nodded and signed something lost to most of them, but Axelus nodded, smiling. “Well you’re right. I’m no conspiracy nut. The dwarves have been lied to for hundreds of years about the war. I have seen the truth. But my word isn’t enough, is it? Seeing is believing, after all.”
“Axelus told me about the truth of the dogun war, and about the lies and propaganda that the dwarves had been raised believing,” Quinn spoke, narrating the visions of the assassin standing before an ancient book with pages that crumbled to the touch. “He’s the one who chose to fight for the doguns’ freedom and for an end to the war, and he’s the reason I chose to help the coalition.”
The vision changed again to a large room hewn out of the earth, red veins of what appeared to be solid, crystallised lava running down the sides. A stone table was in the centre, the room scattered with dwarves and doguns alike, and they got to see from Quinn’s point of view as the assassin approached the table with a smiling Axelus and a wary Korzim.
“This coalition is a small group of believers in the truth,” Axelus said. “The Doguns aren't demons, and the Dwarves aren't all brainwashed. But of course, we have to live in hiding. The Doguns won’t tolerate Dwarves and the Dwarves hunt traitors and ‘Demons’.”
“We have... a plan...” the Korzim of the past said. “To win over...my people... that is.”
The view changed and they were watching from the sides of the room as dwarves in heavy armour burst through the stone wall, stopping with shock on their faces as they saw the collection of dwarves and doguns, all frozen with eyes wide as they were found. “ ...oh Lord, this must be why! D-Doguns?! He is consorting with the enemy! Axelus, they've tainted your soul!” The leader turned to his men, giving his orders in a sharp, curt voice even in the memory. “Entomb these Doguns, and slay their Dwarven thralls-“
The present day Quinn still bristled at the words, but the furious, broken cry that cut off the dwarf leader came from past Quinn, who launched themselves at the dwarves and slaid them without hesitation, fighting alongside the doguns.
“The coalition was… discovered,” Korzim remembered as the scene switched to Quinn bringing a shard of dragon bone to Paku. “The dwarves… found the hidden… dogun village. We… had to evacuate… Axelus had… a plan to stop… the dwarves.”
The scene switched as Korzim finished speaking. Now, it showed the power centre of the dwarves; a massive black and red thing hovering over lava.
“This is a geothermal power core,” Axelus explained as he and past Quinn quickly rushed up to it. “If we can disrupt it, it should slow them down. The hypocrites used dogun magic to make this… It’s lucky, honestly. I know how to work it-“
Crashes and bangs followed, and the dwarven army quickly filled the room, troops passing straight through the watchers as if they weren’t there, making it difficult to see Axelus and Quinn but they could still hear the dwarf’s voice.
“Hell, they already rallied?! That’s the army! That sounds like an entire battalion!! How did they know I was going after this? Dogun magic is slow! Keep me defended, this’ll take a while!”
And then they could see clearly as the assassin began wiping out the entire dwarf army in showers of magic and lightning-quick strikes.
“You both… betrayed the… dwarves,” Astal murmured, watching with dark eyes.
“Axelus’ betrayal was greater than mine,” Quinn admitted, watching the memory as they stood before the memory of King Draani, Axelus speaking quickly but with words that weren’t heard. “He went against his own people, his home, and everything he had for the doguns. Even his own father.”
“I should have listened to him,” Draani murmured, having to tear his eyes away from the scene, head hanging low. “I should have listened to what my heart told me instead of my stubborn head.”
“What’s past is past, and all we can do now is learn from it and make sure it doesn’t happen again. And you’re learning, Draani.” Quinn’s eyes were fixed on the scenes as their mouth remained still. “Axelus stayed to try and change the minds of the dwarves even when it became too dangerous, and it was days before I could get his message to Korzim. By then, the doguns had decided to strike back, and were summoning Garaheth.”
“Garaheth?” Astal turned slowly to Paku as the memory of Quinn and Korzim sneaking through Maex played out before them. “Our god… has been awakened?”
“He’s dead, actually.”
The doguns – Paku and Korzim included – turned with breathed surprise to face the assassin. “You… You killed… our god?” Growing anger was obvious in Desint’s voice.
“Garaheth would have wiped out all doguns and all dwarves together, and have destroyed every living creature in the Molten Heights,” Quinn responded cooly.
“The human… is right, Elders,” Korzim added. “I… assisted the human… I gave them… what they needed… to kill Garaheth.” He waved his hand to the scenes before them, showing Korzim and Quinn running through a collapsing ice cavern and collecting the shards at the end, the scene then flicking to Korzim standing beside Quinn as they took hold of an icy staff.
“You… have the power… to kill a god?” Iscor asked, a wary sort of awe in his voice.
“I’ve faced worse,” was all Quinn said as they saw ice race up the hearts of Garaheth and the assassin running out of the collapsing prison. “It was nearly too late. War had broken out between the dwarves and the doguns, but Garaheth’s death gave the pause needed for both sides to listen.”
All watching saw Axelus standing on top of a broken pillar, shouting across the enemy crowds and speaking as an equal to both. The magical orb granted them every single word of his speech; once again, Axelus got to speak the words that would ultimately bring dwarves and doguns together.
And once again, they got to watch him be shot from the pillar and collapse, and die in his father’s arms with Korzim by his side.
“You followed… a dwarf… to free the doguns,” Iscor murmured. “He was… the reason you… saved our kind.”
“But why?” Desint questioned. “Why bother… to save a dying race… that is not your… own?”
Quinn tilted their head as they thought. “I came from Fruma, with a friend called Tasim and two others who didn’t speak to us,” they said softly, not noticing the scene before them all changing to the inside of a jostling wagon, with a younger Quinn half-conscious as an older blond man wrapped bloodied bandages around their neck, two others sitting across from them averting their eyes. “That’s all I know about who I am. I don’t know my family, I don’t know my home, I don’t know my history. But I’ve learnt a lot about the history of Wynn, the place I now call home, and of the history of the rest of the world. I want to protect it so that people know who they are, where they came from, and so they know the truth of the land they live in. And the best way to do that here was to help the doguns.”
The scene changed again, flicking between different views of Quinn exploring the molten heights, entering the sacred places of the doguns and pouring lava over a frozen statue of the ancient species. “The dwarves needed to know the truth about their land, and the doguns deserved a chance to live in peace in their own territory and to keep their culture and people alive, to pass it on to the next generation.”
They raised their eyes and looked at each of the Elders in turn. “That is why I do what I do. That is why I am here. I want to know the truth, and I want to share it, and I want to protect it. And I want to help people when I do that.”
Astal looked at his two fellow Elders; at Iscor who was nodding slowly, and at Desint who had a twisted expression but no distain or distrust. The Elder looked back to the human. “We see. Your… intentions are not… against us. And… while you killed… our god, you fought… to save us, and… you risked your life… several times. Now… Wait… where is this?”
While they hadn’t been watching, the scenes had changed again to follow Quinn exploring more rocky crevices only now, the crevices lacked the bright heat of the Molten Heights and instead featured cracks of dull purple.
“This is… like no cavern I… have seen,” Paku admitted.
“Quinn… where is… this?” Korzim asked.
Quinn was frowning at the sight, because it was familiar but they couldn’t remember where. The purple cracks became brighter and green lines started to form and only then did Quinn realise, but it was too late to speak. Before them all formed a single eye initially closed but it opened a crack, then opened wider, and though they were all in a circle, it pierced them all with its gaze at once.
Síneann mo radharc fiú anseo. Beidh an áit seo liomsa freisin.
The voice was hardly a voice at all, but a serpentine twisting of words that shook and suck into them like a hand grasping for their souls, the eye opening wider and wider-
Quinn stepped forward, drawing daggers from nowhere with blades that glowed bright purple, their deep grey eyes flashing and with their newfound voice in the memory, they spoke back.
“Tá an áit seo faoi mo chosaint agus ní bheidh sé leatsa choíche! In ainm Orphion tá tú toirmiscthe as seo!”
They slashed their daggers in an X and the Eye wailed a horrific note and their vision snapped back to reality, blinking in the sudden brightness of the Molten Heights. The spinning orb between them faded in its colour and sank back into the floor of the sacred place, Quinn’s bandana slipping off it and lying on top of the now-black glass. The assassin was holding their daggers in their hands, breathing hard. It hadn’t been a vision.
“What… was that… thing?” Desint asked.
Quinn didn’t answer straight away, taking the time to sheath their daggers and walk forward to pick up their bandana and wrap it around their eyes.
“Quinn,” Korzim insisted, a little stronger. “What was… that?”
Quinn signed out for distinct letters and Korzim understood them but Draani spoke first. “Dern? What’s a Dern?”
Quinn turned to him and signed again. “I need to contact someone.”
Quinn was exactly where they had been sitting for the past four hours; on a precarious window ledge overhanging the grand city of Rodoroc. Getting up there hadn’t been easy for Korzim, but he’d persisted if only so he could finally take his seat beside the assassin. “You can… be difficult to find,” he attempted to joke as he took his place.
Quinn gave him a rueful smile. “Sorry,” they signed, then returned to their watch. Their bandana was off again, letting Korzim see the worry lines that pinched their eyes and twisted their lips, and it was a familiar sight from many hours spent beside Axelus.
“What is… worrying you?” he asked. “Is it… the vision?”
The assassin sighed and signed slowly. “That special place shows the past as it really happened. But what we saw at the end was not a past I know. It was not a past I’ve seen, and I could interact with it. I worry it was not the past, but the present.”
“And this is… bad?”
Quinn was silent for a few moments. “I told you at the festival that I fight a war older than doguns. In it are gods that make Garaheth look like a Fleris. I fight beside one against another one. That eye was from the other god. I worry that that god is able to touch the Molten Heights.”
“And that god… is Dern?”
“Sort of.” The assassin sighed. “I can’t tell you much more, Korzim. It’s not safe. It’s very dangerous, actually.”
Korzim rumbled. “And yet you are facing it alone?”
Quinn shook their head. “Not alone. There’s a mage, Casey. She helped the coalition before, you’ve met her. We fight together.”
Korzim didn’t like that information was being kept from him. He didn’t like that his remaining true friend was fighting something dangerous and far away, something with gods and great powers and he didn’t know what it was or how to help. But he wouldn’t push. He knew enough that Quinn wouldn’t talk once they’d made up their mind.
“How long… until you leave?” he asked instead.
Quinn smiled at him. “I’ll stay here for a while. To make sure this place is safe. There is nowhere else I need to be.”