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I read those same reports that included vague references to “strange occurrences” less than a month ago when I left Tirene. “That might be because of how fast it spreads. They’re calling it the Withering. It kills crops and leaves the land gray and lifeless. I’m sure you’ve seen the dead patches from the sky. And there are these creatures, the Hollow Ones. They seem to feed on people and make them sick with what some Meridians are calling the Hushing Sickness. People grow confused, forget who they are, and sometimes harm themselves.”

The young soldier is definitely backing away now. The other one, older and harder, holds her position, but her eyes have gone sharp with fear.

I detail the towns we saw, the pitchfork man, the little girls lost in their rooms, the sunburned woman hanging up her laundry. “No one seems to know how far the Hushing Sickness can progress, or what will ultimately happen to those who have it. If what I’ve heard is true, some sort of powerful ancient artifact may be part of the cure.”

Rafe processes my intel, and I’m glad now that he’s the one who showed up. I wouldn’t want to dump this kind of information on someone I didn’t know and trust. “And you’re sure none of this is related to the drachen? That they aren’t somehow infecting the Hollow Ones?”

Not enough time has passed since we defeated King Xenon of Aclaris and the mad god Narc, along with their army of drachen, terrifying shadow creatures who corrupted and possessed people, causing them to commit heinous atrocities.

“That’s crossed my mind. And while there may be a few similarities between the drachen and the Hollow Ones, you know as well as I do all the drachen were destroyed.”

I launch into greater detail about the Hollow Ones, the Hushing Sickness, and the Withering, sharing what I’ve learned these last few weeks.

The soldiers look ready to bolt. Even Ryu shifts behind them, his wings rustling like dry leather.

“Fuck.” Rafe runs a hand through his wavy dark brown hair.

I don’t know if the merchant guild master is going to like what I say next. “While I came here to find out what’s been happening in Meridia and whether Tirene is at risk, the more I discover, the more questions I have. I know Lark and Sterling expected me to be back by now, but I need to extend my mission.”

Rafe considers this, then pins me with one of his classic scowls. “You don’t think you need backup?”

I shake my head and pull the folded papers from my pack. “Not yet. I’ll contact you if I do, but for the moment, I just need more time. You need to give these to our healers. And to Nyc’s acolytes.”

I hand over three pages of observations, sketches, and theories. Everything I know about the Hollow Ones and Wardens, all translated into intelligence report format.

Rafe pauses halfway through unfolding the first page. “Nyc? The Goddess of Darkness and Night? Why?”

Wishing I had a better explanation, I shrug. “With everything that’s happened, I figure the gods might have insight, even though they no longer require our worship. Nyc proved helpful to Lark before. You might try the temples of Rivlan and Terro too.”

The gods of water and earth may indeed know more about what’s causing the Withering that’s destroying the land in Meridia.

All three of them stare at me. The young soldier seems genuinely disturbed.

“Why?” Rafe asks again.

“Like I said, the gods may know something we don’t. They’ve helped before, but I don’t have time to petition them myself.”

The older soldier wards herself, and the young one pales. Rafe’s expression shifts through several unrecognizable emotions before settling on grim determination.

“I’ll talk to the priests and the healers.” He tucks the papers into his jacket. “But be careful, Agnar. We still don’t really know what we’re dealing with.”

As if I’m not already aware. “Another thing, maybe a lead, but have you heard anything about an upcoming tournament? Or a magical artifact? Some sort of dagger? Though it’s all hearsay, with the right ritual, the Everhand may prove useful in healing the Withering and Hushing Sickness.” No reason to bring up the idea of dragon eggs, especially not in front of Ryu. He might eat me for even saying it.

The older soldier speaks up. “I can help you.”

The familiar voice prompts me to peer under the helmet. Sera. I remember her now. She’s an excellent tracker I’ve worked with before.

“We saw them setting up for a big tournament in the capital of The Havens when we flew over last week. I looked into it, and every noble and cutthroat in the surrounding kingdoms will be present. Every warrior worth naming too. Perfect place for refugees to go and make a living.” Her eyes twinkle as she leans forward. “I’ve heard even the Onyx Knight himself has entered.”

I raise an eyebrow, my interest piqued.

In living memory, no one has seen the Onyx Knight outside of the Withered Undulations to the far north. He’s either the king or the guardian, depending on who you ask. But the fact is, if you enter his realm and he doesn’t like it, he’ll add you to the rows of corpses on spikes that border his lands.

It’s difficult to parse what’s legend and what’s fact, but I know the Onyx Knight isn’t someone I would want to take on. Half-man, half-monster, he stands close to seven feet and wields a halberd as tall as I am.

Deep, deep down in the dark, foolish recesses of my soul, I want to go to the Withered Undulations. Not to fight him, as I’m fond of breathing, but to see him in action. “What’s bringing him out of the Hinterlands?”

Sera’s mouth curves into something that might be a smile if it reached her eyes. “Same thing bringing everyone else. A big fat prize.”