Squad Six was a rock, they'd said. With the famous Sea Silencer in charge,
they were the elite. They stood firm. Nothing got past them. No matter what
came out of the Gate, they had nothing to fear.
She'd gotten that bad feeling right away. She was usually right about these
things. And no one rocked the boat like Chloe Halford. She'd earned that rep
while still in school.
And so the night before they embarked, at the party, she'd cut herself off
after her second drink and made her way to another table without so much as a
by-your-leave.
"Watch your asses if you don't wanna wipe tomorrow."
It was hard to take that warning as anything but an insult. Back at her table,
her two colleagues were doing spit takes. And the Gnostic Hunters at the table
Chloe faced were all battle-scarred veterans—the last people in the world you
wanted to start trouble with.
"Sorry! She's had a bit too much!"
"Let's get you some fresh air, Chloe!"
Her colleagues caught up to her, each grabbing an arm. But she stood firm,
not budging an inch. She even wound up one arm like she wanted to throw a
few punches.
"Wait—was that an augur just now, Two-Blade?"
One man had taken the trash talk in stride. Even in a crowd of hunters, this
individual was built like a tank. The commander of Squad Six, Jacob Rutland—
the Sea Silencer. He was over fifty years old, had never failed a mission, and had
kept his squad turnover under 5 percent. In a job where full-squad wipeouts
were all too common, that in itself was astonishing—but what had sealed his
claim to fame was an incident at a harbor town.
A giant sea monster's death throes following a naval battle had caused a twohundred-foot tidal wave. It was headed right for a coastal town, and doom
seemed all but certain—but his squad had saved it. The stormy night passed,
and the residents woke to calm waters, upon which stood a mage: Rutland,
who'd silenced the seas. The origin of his epithet.
"Nah," Chloe replied, like the Sea Silencer's legend meant nothing to her.
"Just a feeling. My family's into auguries, but it was never my style. Can't do
squat with a crystal ball."
But despite her flippant tone, there was a grim look in her eye. Not taking her
gaze off the mages before her, she added, "But sometimes my gut is right on
the money. This feels like one of those times. There's a nasty bit of discord
ahead of you. And I'm getting some glimpses of specifics… You two over there!
Feeling something off in your mana circulation? Left leg and right shoulder?
That could cause a wipeout."
The mages she pointed at didn't say a word. But the Sea Silencer was
listening. He'd mentioned the same thing the day before. And Chloe's squad
had just arrived that evening—unlikely she'd had time to dig up that sort of
intel.
"…You have the knack, but never made a craft of it, then? Well, shit."
Jacob knew now she wasn't just stirring the pot. He stilled his squad with a
glare, electing to hear her out.
"You guys do solo raids, right? I hear that's 'cause every squad you were on
threw in the towel."
"Yeah, I could've opened a day spa," Chloe snarled. "But the same goes for all
Gnostic Hunters. Every squad's kept together by a razor-thin margin. And once
you're in the thick of things, everyone does it their way. We're mages, that's
why."
"True enough." Jacob chuckled. "You're covering a chunk of the Bangash?"
"Yep, but I don't sense a thing," she said, finger on her brow. "Not even a
tingle."
"Nobody can predict where the Gates'll open." The Sea Silencer shook his
head. "Augury pros narrow it down as best they can, and then we're placed
accordingly. We've got our orders. Or are you saying these hunches of yours are
more accurate than real oracles?"
"Nah. They're just hunches. When they're wrong, they're wrong. No more use
than that."
"So what use is your warning?" he asked, probing her intent.
Chloe scratched her head, looking sheepish.
"…Some things make a difference," she said. "How long you hang on.
Whether you know someone's coming or not."
"...?" Jacob and his group frowned, not sure what she meant.
Conscious of their eyes on her, Chloe leaned back, letting her words sink in for
a moment. Then she slammed both hands down on the table.
"If anything happens, I will come and rescue you. Don't you dare give up. Get
that into your skulls."
She spat each phrase like she was chiseling them into the hunters' bodies. She
went from left to right, staring each squad member in the eye with a look like a
command: Don't die. Survive.
And that silenced even these hardened hunters.
No one answered her. They knew this was all she'd ever meant to tell them.
Chloe Halford was at their table for that, and that alone.
"This drink's on me," the Sea Silencer said. He used his white wand to pull
over a stool, and Chloe parked herself on it. Her two colleagues watched,
nerves frayed.
Jacob pulled a little bottle out of his coat pocket and tipped just a few drops
into an empty glass. Chloe looked baffled. There was already a big bottle of
spirits on the table, and everyone else was helping themselves to it.
"…Mixings? Let's stick to straight shots."
"Of cheap gin in a backwoods watering hole? This town's deep country, and I
ain't griping, but you'd be better off choking down fresh-squeezed mandrake."
"I don't hold with the sweet stuff. I want my booze to sit up and smack me."
"Sheesh, you drink like an asshole. Don't worry, it's bitters. It won't make it
sweet."
With that, the Sea Silencer poured gin on top of the brown drops. He put the
glass in front of Chloe; she shrugged and took a gulp.
"…Mm?!"
She let out a weird noise, then tilted the glass all the way back. Once drained,
she slammed it down on the table and barked, "Another!"
"'Fraid not," Jacob said, holding the bottle of bitters upside down. Chloe
looked crestfallen; the Sea Silencer looked rather pleased with himself. "I could
have another for you the next time we meet. After this battle's done."
"Argh, you're gonna do me like that?!" she wailed, clutching her head.
The Gnostic Hunters were all laughing now. Chloe let loose several curses that
would make high-society types blanch, then got to her feet with tears in her
eyes.
"I'll hold you to that!" she yelled. "Don't you dare forget!"
"Same here," he said, arms folded. "You wind us up like this and die first, I'll
make sure people are laughing about it for centuries. Just you watch."
"I'll keep it in mind." Chloe snorted. She turned on her heel, flinging an arm
over each of her two companion's shoulders. "Good night—and good luck,
Jacob the Sea Silencer."
"Same to you, Chloe Two-Blade."
And they went their separate ways, leaving behind a small promise. One that
should not have taken long to keep.
"…Ha-ha… You really did get here first…"
His voice a rasp, his face ashen, the Sea Silencer was propped against a rock
on a hill. To say he'd been beaten to a pulp would be an understatement.
"..."
Chloe was staring down at him. He'd lost his left leg from below the knee, and
his sides were torn open in three places, broken ribs peeking out. The rest of his
wounds were too numerous to count. And given the extent of his injuries, most
unnerving of all was how little blood was flowing.
The cause was the brown fibrous substance buried in the gaps of his flesh:
arcane roots woven through his entire body, draining him of blood and magic.
Chloe's two companions went to heal him, saw that substance, and froze. They
knew. The Sea Silencer's life was finished; his bodily functions served only as a
seedbed.
"…Don't look so upset," he told Chloe, who remained speechless. "We didn't
give up. Not a one of us. I swear."
He glanced down at the body cradled in his arms—one of his squad members.
There was no need to check for signs of life. Not even a mage could survive
losing half their head.
"…Your hunch was right. The augurs totally blew the scale of the invasion.
Look at the state of things; they've swallowed up the whole valley. We're a step
outside the tír…"
Chloe and the others followed his gaze. The sight before them was literally
not of this world.
Once, there had been a town in this valley, decent sized for these parts;
nearly two thousand had lived here. They grew cotton and carrots and raised
magical silkworms. The ten mages who lived here had convinced the villagers to
evacuate. Abandon everything they'd ever known.
And now, as Chloe's group peered down into the valley—there was no town.
No trace of it remained. The massive wyrms swimming through the soil had
demolished everything, churning it to oblivion. They'd scattered countless seeds
that grew until the land was covered in a towering forest within a matter of
hours. Their role complete, some of the wyrms' corpses were already entangled
in the trees' roots, fertilizing them—a sight that proved who was in charge.
Plants held sway, and beasts served at their whim—the polar opposite of this
world, an attempt to impose an alien order upon it.
Above this alarmingly luxuriant forest lay the swirling black portal through
which they had arrived. Even as Chloe watched, another deluge of seeds fell
from it and burrowed themselves into the wyrm-plowed land, devouring
nutrients before proliferating.
Several figures watched the invasion's progress from the skies above. Each
twenty feet tall, their forms were dubiously reminiscent of a man in a straw
cape. But their bodies were made from tightly woven roots, their outstretched
limbs two thick branches, the tips of which were shaped like jagged shears.
These figures weren't human, nor were they any sort of magiflora. They were
something distinct even from the writhing plants below. Shuddering from their
palpable might, Chloe spoke.
"Those are…gardeners? Twelve…no, thirteen of them?"
"Fifteen. We managed to take two down…barely. The moment they
appeared, we knew how it would end. Sending seraphs in right away? Proof
their god means business."
Jacob's voice was a spiteful whisper. When Chloe still offered no response, he
looked back at her, adding, "You came all this way for nothing. We've already
lost. Retreat and regroup. Two or three squads coming can't do a thi— Gah!"
He groaned; the roots were digging deeper. Vines stretching up from his
wounds wove together, replacing the missing pieces of his body with new ones.
The thing inside him would not even allow him to die. It was now robbing him
of the last lingering trace of his own mind, forcing him to serve as their puppet.
"…Can I ask one last favor? Afraid I missed my shot at ending things myself."
The Sea Silencer saw the writing on the wall and spoke his piece. Chloe
nodded and drew her athame. As his chest rose and fell, she placed the tip offcenter, directly above his heart.
"…Sorry I failed to keep my promise."
"Don't worry about it. We both did."
And with that, she sank her blade into his chest, destroying his heart—the
lynchpin of the circulatory systems for both blood and mana. She was delicate,
to avoid causing him pain; thorough, so that nothing could make use of him
once he was gone; and respectful, honoring the great mage and the life he had
led.
"Ignis."
Once the Sea Silencer had slid, relieved, into eternal slumber, Chloe set him
on fire. When a corpse became infected by a tír being, it had to be burned on
the spot, reduced to ash—lest it cause greater calamity. Destroying the heart
beforehand prevented the inhabiting creature from resisting while the corpse
burned.
This funeral rite was the first thing every Gnostic Hunter learned. Ever since
her first day on the front lines, Chloe Halford had repeated this procedure more
times than she could count.
"…Chloe…"
"…We're here with you."
Her two colleagues spoke but did not move. Chloe watched as the corpse
burned into oblivion.
"…What do we do?" she murmured.
The pair glanced at each other. It was always their job to make the rational
choice. Chloe—their leader—was horrifically bad at that.
"I'm afraid he was right. We should retreat and find other—"
"Not that."
She cut him off, not allowing him to play his role. That was all it took for them
to know how bad things were. Their leader was in no state to listen to a rational
argument.
"Once this fight is over, where do I drink, and what?" Chloe roared, clenching
her fists. A broom shot down from the sky above, as if it sensed her frustration.
Chloe's companions tried to grab her shoulders, but she slipped away, her
feet on the broom's handle, riding it like a surfboard.
She hurtled toward the base of the valley and the sinister forest within.
Sensing her approach, the wyrms ceased plowing and attacked. They swam
through the soil like sea serpents through waves. In the face of a threat so great
it had swallowed up a town, Chloe could have flown upward—but instead, she
jumped off her broom, falling toward them.
"Gladio Ferrum Directum!"
Pouring all her fury into a triple incantation, she drew both her athames—
dual wielding these had earned her the Two-Blade epithet. Swinging right and
left, she mowed down everything in sight, slicing the worms like carrots. Still
not satisfied, she felled a hundred of the uncanny trees like a scythe through
tall grass. By now, she had the attention of the gardeners above.
"This is our garden, you sons of bitches! Get your nasty hands off it!"
Her roar shook the skies, issuing an ultimatum to every tír fragment her eyes
met. Countless eldritch creatures swarmed from beneath the fallen trees; like
the wyrms, they served the needs of their flora masters. If she inhibited the
forest's growth, then she was their foe and must be attacked.
"Come back! You'll get yourself killed, Chloe!"
"You don't even have a plan! We can't fight all this on our own!"
Her teammates caught up with her reckless frontal assault, athames raised,
guarding her flanks and back. The hit-and-run squad was thirty strong, but the
wave of twisted creatures was too much for them. Even if they managed to
weather this assault, the gardeners waited in the skies—the same foes that had
massacred the Sea Silencer's squad. On any other day, a swift retreat would
have been their only option.
"Yeah, you're right! That's the correct response! So obvious even a child
would know it!" Chloe roared. "But I say, 'Nope!' and when that happens,
reckless and crazy don't get to argue. You know that!"
Her spells mowing down the advancing horde, always leading the charge,
Chloe never had much truck with reason.
"This grief! Frustration! And rage! It's all part of me! It is me! If I choke that
down, if I even try and stop it from gushing out—I won't be me anymore!
There'll be no trace of Chloe Halford's soul!"
Her colleagues shook their heads. There was no arguing with her now.
Chloe's team had never once had anyone on it who wasn't there by choice.
And there wasn't a Gnostic Hunter alive who didn't know full well just how
peerless Chloe Two-Blade was. Everyone knew she was prone to stunts like this.
And because she was like this, because she insisted on following her heart, no
matter where it led—her team followed her.
"So this is where we die? We could clear a path for you to run, Emmy."
"…Right back atcha, Ed."
Her two closest colleagues were chatting behind her. Not a snowball's chance
in hell that either of them would leave her side till the bitter end. All of them
were laughing. Their camaraderie had been set in stone as students, and it
seemed clear they were taking it to their graves.
"I knew you'd be doing something stupid. You always are!"
But that indulgent fantasy was blasted away by a rain of fire. The encroaching
swarm was replaced with a wave of death, one that almost swallowed them
with it.
"...?!"
"...Huh?"
Scorched earth and countless corpses. Chloe's companions gaped, clueless as
to the cause. But her eyes had already locked onto it on the high ground to the
northwest: a row of golems along the horizon—and the diminutive old man
leading them.
"…'Sup. How you been, Instructor Enrico?" Chloe waved at him like she'd
spotted a friend arriving late at a party. "What's with the army? Couldn't let
your favorite students go?"
"Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha! Indeed, I've been fit to be tied! So worried poor Esmeralda
and Edgar would get swept up in your latest harebrained scheme!"
"Don't try and hide it! You know you love me, too."
She stomped her feet in protest. Leaving his golems to continue their
bombardment, Enrico hopped on a small hover golem, flying into the basin.
Joining his former students, Enrico Forghieri glanced skyward at the portal.
"They sure did punch a big one! We were way off about the scale of their
faith," he said.
"Must have been a pretty fair number hidden, out of HQ's grasp," Chloe
replied. "Nothing else explains the size of this invasion."
"Clearly, our surveillance practices need review. But first, we'll have to clear
these out!"
The old man never took his eyes off the sky. The gardeners had simply
watched him this whole time, but now they were on the move. Chloe had sliced
up half their wyrms, and Enrico's golems had burned away their forest. A major
setback to the task their god had entrusted to them, and their fury was
palpable.
Chloe was grinning. As it should be. Come and get some.
Didn't matter to her what world her foes came from. Didn't matter if these
things weren't even technically alive. If they had a mind to go against her, she
didn't give a damn if she was fighting a bad drunk or a tír invader.
"Leave the rabble to the golems. Only the gardeners matter. Instructor, can
you take half?"
"You never did have a head for math. You clearly meant two-thirds."
"Now you're talking, grandpa! What say we go first come, first served?"
Even strategy sessions were a fight with Chloe involved. Her team rolled their
eyes, but these powerful reinforcements had every hunter present back in the
game, ready to win. Light was building at the tips of every athame. And no
mage alive was generous enough to take a beating lying down.
"Oh, lemme add a clause! Whichever side loses picks up the bar tab!
Whaddaya say?"
"Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha! I certainly don't mind! I love it when old students buy me
drinks. A fine way to respect your mentors!"
With the afterparty planned out, there was only one thing left on the agenda.
The harshest task of any and all mages—protecting the safety of the world, as
Gnostic Hunters do.
The boy's consciousness drifted up from the sea of ancient memories.
"..."
He gritted his teeth. This was hardly the first such dream he'd had since he
began harboring her soul. But this one was unusually vivid, and the contents
particularly galling.
All of that had been trampled on. Friendship, trust, his mother's soul—and all
at the hands of that mad old man. The shadows of that betrayal as dark as their
bond had once been bright. A maddening storm of queries and anger swirled
through Oliver's mind.
"…? What's wrong? You look awful."
In the next bed over, Pete had woken up. Suddenly conscious of the tension in
his cheeks, Oliver tried to relax them—and failed. Instead, he looked away.
"It's nothing," he said. "Just…an unpleasant dream."