Bonds of the Fallen

Einar burst through the imposing oak doors of Val’s study, sending them shaking in their frames. Val’s head snapped up from the piles of papers scattered over his desk, his eyebrows rising in surprise at the sudden intrusion of his closest friend. Words died in his throat as Einar stormed towards him, fury etched into every line of his face.

“What is this I hear about you participating in the ritual?” Einar demanded, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Heaving a sigh, Einar’s hand landed heavily on Val’s shoulder. Though still thick with anger, his voice carried a note of concern as he spoke again, “Tell me it isn’t true.”

Val inhaled deeply, searching for the right words. “I stood prepared to turn my back on it all. I had one of the Harii ready to step in to complete her ritual. But when she walked into that room, I…” His voice trailed off under the weight of his decision.

Einar’s fury melted away, replaced by an understanding smile. A laugh bubbled up from his chest, rich and full. “Well, it appears you’ve landed yourself in a delightful kind of trouble,” he grinned, clapping Val on the back. “Never took you for the impulsive type, especially one driven by jealousy. I suppose there’s a first time for everything?”

Relief flooded Val’s veins at Einar’s reaction. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed his friend’s support until now.

With a wry smile, Val conceded, “I suppose we’re more alike than I thought. But enough about that, we’ve got work to do. Reports are flooding in about more attacks in the city.”

Einar’s laughter faded, his features morphing into a mask of grim determination. “Yeah, they’ve been escalating, coinciding with the timing of the ceremony.”

Val’s brow furrowed in contemplation. “This could be the gods meddling in our affairs,” he considered.

Einar shook his head emphatically. “No, this has the stench of the so-called New God all over it, but there’s something else at play here, something we’re not seeing.”

“Not yet,” Val agreed, determination settling in his bones. “But we can’t leave until we’ve neutralized the threat. I want a team working on constructing living quarters and facilities immediately.”

With a chuckle, Einar remarked, “Maybe you’re finally willing to pry open that old, armored heart of yours after all.”

A flicker of irritation passed over Val’s face. “Shouldn’t you be off seeing to those orders?”

With an exaggerated bow, Einar turned on his heel and made for the door, leaving Val alone with his thoughts. He sank back into his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. A pensive look creased his brow as he stared at the intricate patterns carved into the wooden ceiling.

The gravity of his decision weighed on him, the enormity of what he had done, the promises he had made. He had stepped off the precipice, and there was no going back. The ritual had bound his fate to Bat’s, intertwining their lives in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

And then there were the attacks. They were escalating, becoming more daring, more dangerous. Slaingard was a tinderbox waiting to explode, and the shadowy enemy that lurked in the shadows was the spark that threatened to set it all ablaze.