Neil, Mirana, Wyn, Blintsy, Lothran, and the last remaining soldier walk together towards the north gate. To their surprise, they find almost no resistance in doing so. Explosions still sound off in the distance as destruction rains down across Lethisburg, but it feels far different from before. Far less controlled.

  The only goblins the group encounters are scavengers, scrounging through the rubble to find loot. They pay no mind to the adventurers. One even gives an awkward half-salute to them before diving back into the rubble.

  “What the hell…” Mirana mutters.

  “What is going on?” Wyn asks. “What happened to them?”

  Neil shrugs. “No idea, but we need to leave before they get any fancy ideas. Let’s keep moving.”

  Wyn follows Neil’s lead and takes the opportunity to open up her messaging system. She has no new messages, only a random message from Elara from ages ago. Quickly reading it over, it lets Wyn know where to meet Elara once she arrives in Edelvahn. Wyn can’t help but wonder if Edelvahn is even around anymore. If goblins are attacking Lethisburg with such a large number of troops, what would stop them from doing the same to cities beyond the mountains?

  She types up a quick message and sends it off to Elara, hoping for good news. Once they get out of this… no. If they get out of this mess, Wyn wants some assurance that things will go better. This massacre at Lethisburg has been horrible, and Wyn does not want to experience again.

  “Hold up.” Neil says, stopping the group. “Activity.”

  Wyn stops, gripping her new staff just a little tighter. Up ahead, a roving pack of goblins scours through the rubble. Rocks are tossed to the side, revealing piles of elaborate clothing. Wyn winces as the corpse of a poor shopkeeper is picked over, her body broken well beyond repair.

  Wyn gasps. She recognizes that shop, and the poor woman. Just before meeting Blintsy, she walked into her shop looking for clothing. The shopkeeper was overbearing and quite rude, but she didn’t deserve to be crushed under the rubble, just another corpse for the goblins to pick over in their quest for loot.

  Neil says something that Wyn doesn’t quite hear. Only when the others fire off a series of ranged attacks does she snap out of it, launching a few simple bolts of her own towards the goblins, though most of them miss in her distracted state.

  “You alright?” Neil asks.

  “I’ll be fine. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

  They encounter no further trouble on the way to the north gate. Going from the intense fights against the abomination and the boomfrog to this sudden lack of anything leaves Wyn on edge. Something has to go wrong. There’s no way it won’t, right?

  But as the shadow of the demolished north gate approaches, there’s no sign of conflict. The gate demolished by the boomfrog matriarch lies wide open. The rubble is all that stands between them and freedom from the remains of Lethisburg.

  Wyn glances at Blintsy, and is surprised to find a nervous expression on his usually unreadable face.

  “What is it?”

  Blintsy grins playfully, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, nothing to be concerned about. We should move quickly.”

  The closer they get to the gate, the quieter the city becomes.

  Wyn notices it when the rubble beneath her boots sounds too loud. Every step crunches and scrapes, echoing between collapsed buildings as if the streets themselves are hollow. No goblin shouts answer it. No spells crackle nearby. Even the distant explosions feel muffled, like thunder heard from underwater.

  The air feels wrong in her lungs, carrying a faint metallic tang that makes her tongue prickle.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Mirana says softly, as if afraid to raise her voice.

  Lothran slows. “Essentia isn’t flowing correctly,” he murmurs. “It’s… sluggish. Like it’s being pulled somewhere.”

  Even Psai is nervous, hovering just beside Wyn. He glances around, eyes flicking towards each muffled sound.

  Wyn flexes her fingers, instinctively reaching for a flickerstep she doesn’t cast. The magic responds, but is sluggish. Like the usual clear flow of essentia has become a muddy slop, far different from before.

  Wyn sighs with relief as they reach the gate, though something continues to feel off. The rubble should crawl with goblins. It should be a choke point, thick with bodies, traps, desperate defenders trying to flee. Instead, it is empty.

  A pair of goblins stands several streets away, perched on a broken wall. They are not looting. They are not watching the group. They are watching the gate. When Wyn’s gaze meets theirs, both goblins flinch and scramble backward, vanishing into the ruins without a sound.

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  “Did you see that?” she whispers.

  Neil nods grimly. “They don’t want to go near it.”

  A cold knot settles in her stomach. But they have no other option. This is their best chance now.

  Step by step, they clamber over the sea of rubble. Mirana stumbles before being caught by Neil and straightened upright. It’s difficult terrain to say the least, but determination pushes them through it, regardless.

  Blintsy stops walking. He does not announce it. He simply stops. Floating a fraction higher off the ground, metal disk hanging motionless at his side.

  “Well,” he says after a moment. His voice is light, but it rings too clearly in the eerie silence. “That explains it.”

  Wyn turns on him. “Explains what?”

  Blintsy does not answer immediately. His eyes trace the space in front of the gate. Ntot the rubble, nor the bodies, but the air itself, as if measuring an invisible boundary.

  “For once,” he says carefully, “this wasn’t caused by me.”

  Neil shifts his grip on his sword. “Blintsy.”

  “Yes?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Blintsy finally looks back at them. The playful grin is gone. Not hidden or restrained. Gone.

  “Oh,” he says softly. “It could be a variety of things. It depends on how much someone upstairs dislikes loose ends.”

  The air tightens around them, giving them a crushing certainty that they have stepped somewhere they’re not supposed to be. Wyn gasps as the interface flickers and dies, leaving her alone, unprotected, and exposed to the unknown threat.

  Then he appears.

  A figure clad in a long black jacket and wide-brimmed hat. Silver buckles glint in the light as the world seems to slow to a crawl. The sensation of muffling increases, leaving the world silent except for the crunching of the man’s thick leather boots against the rubble.

  The longer Wyn looks at the man, the more a sense of unease settles in her stomach. Not a speck of dust rests on him, despite all the dust hanging in the air. In fact, the dust doesn’t settle anywhere; it floats in the air, the rules of reality bending.

  “Well,” he says, voice smooth and conversational. “Ain’t this inconvenient.”

  Wyn’s stomach drops. Neil exhales through his nose, slow and controlled. Wyn and Lothran exchange glances. They don’t have to ask who he is. They already know.

  Blintsy’s reaction, when it finally came, was the most revealing. The grin slips from his face, not into fear but into irritation. A glint of something old and sharp flickered deep within his eyes.

  “Oh, no,” Blintsy says flatly. “Absolutely not. I am not dealing with you today.”

  The Watcher’s smile widens. “That’s hardly the greeting I was hoping for.”

  “You never are,” Blintsy replies. “And I’m afraid my patience is rather thin.”

  The Watcher’s gaze flicks to Wyn, then Neil, lingering just a beat too long on each. “Ah. So this is your new arrangement. You’ve been busy.”

  “Hardly,” Blintsy snaps. “Wyn, do me a favor and get your friends out of here.”

  “How the hell do you know him?” Wyn asks, ignoring his command.

  Blintsy stares back at Wyn as though he just heard the worst insult imaginable, shocked that she would dare not do as he says.

  The Watcher in Black laughs, a guttural laugh that carries no edge, as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

  “Oh, I know him very well,” the Watcher says, adjusting one black glove with deliberate care. “Which is why this is such an unexpected inconvenience.”

  Neil’s jaw tightens. “You’re here to finish this, aren’t you.” he says. There’s no question in his tone; it’s a statement of fact.

  The Watcher nods once. “That is the polite way to put it.” His gaze drifts across the ruined gate, the rubble, the bodies half-buried beneath stone. “Lethisburg had to die. It’s how it goes. I’m just here to keep the story contained.”

  Wyn’s pulse thunders in her ears. “Contained?”

  The Watcher looks at her fully now. His eyes are not cruel, nor do they bear any monstrous bloodlust. He is indifferent, examining her with cold curiosity.

  “We can’t have survivors,” he says. “Loose variables aren’t good for business.”

  Blintsy sighs. “One day, you’ll learn that The Business isn’t everything.”

  The Watcher’s attention snaps to him. The casual posture tightens, just slightly. “You shouldn’t be here, Blintsy. You know what I have to do now.”

  “It’s quite unfortunate,” Blintsy replies. “But I have my reasons.”

  “You vanished,” the Watcher says. “You don’t do that unless you’re afraid of being found.”

  Blintsy grins, but there is no humor in it. “I’ve learned that some games aren’t worth playing anymore, Watcher.”

  He spits out the word like an accusation, his hatred palpable.

  The Watcher steps closer. The rubble beneath his boots does not shift. “This city was supposed to end quietly,” he says. “No witnesses. No exceptions. Then I arrive and find you standing at the exit.” His gaze sharpens. “Care to explain?”

  Blintsy glances back at Wyn and the others. His expression softens back to his usual playful self. “I’ve got better things to do than waste my breath on someone like you.”

  Wyn takes a step toward him. “Blintsy—”

  “No,” he says gently. “This is where I bow out.”

  The Watcher’s smile fades completely. “You don’t get to leave.”

  Blintsy’s eyes flick back to him, old irritation flashing there. “I do, actually. Tata for now, darling.”

  Before anyone can stop him, Blintsy drifts toward Lothran. He places a hand against the mage’s chest. The contact burns cold and hot simultaneously, feeling similar to the worst effects of Frostburn.

  Lothran gasps as essentia floods back into him, overwhelming yet filling him with a thrumming sense of power. The ache in his limbs vanishes. His mind becomes clear, and electricity crackles between his fingers once more. But it’s not without consequences.

  Blintsy leans in. “You’re topped off,” he murmurs. “Don’t waste it.”

  Lothran stares at him, realization dawning. “It’s too much. I can’t hold this much essentia.”

  Blintsy’s grin is small and tired, but he says nothing more.

  Wyn’s voice breaks. “You can’t just—”

  “I can,” Blintsy says, already fading at the edges. “And I am.”

  The Watcher lunges towards Blintsy in a fit of rage. Reality shudders as he moves, the air splitting into black patterned fractures, but he is a heartbeat too late. Blintsy dissolves into nothing. One moment present, tangible and real, the next simply fading into the ether.

  The Watcher straightens, fury coiling beneath his composure.

  “Coward,” he says.

  Neil steps forward, blade raised. “Looks like you’re stuck with us.”

  The Watcher’s gaze returns to the group, colder than before. “You misunderstand.” The air tightens. Essentia bends inward, screaming under pressure.

  “There was never a scenario,” he says calmly, “where you survived this.”

  Lothran exhales, breath frosting in the surrounding air.

  “Then,” he says quietly, “let’s make it memorable.”

  Lightning crackles between Lothran’s fingers, begging to be released. He grins a wide, crazed grin. Wyn can feel the essentia radiating out of him more powerfully than she’s ever felt before.

  Mirana groans. “I guess we’re doing this.”

  Wyn grins. “Let’s kill this bastard.”