Author's Preface
The Wanderer froze, as all the pieces fell into place. The striking similarities, the fierce protectiveness, the fragile but stubborn resilience.
Sunny was Kuma’s reflection, a version of him untouched by the corruption of Draemir.
His thoughts were abruptly broken as Harith pulled him into an unexpected hug.
The Wanderer blinked in confusion, his arms stiff at his sides, but before he could pull away, Harith forcefully shoved a cloth-wrapped object against his chest.
Harith leaned in close and whispered into the Wanderer’s ear. "I don't trust you. But I trust those masked men even less.
At least I know your secrets."
The Wanderer tried to look down at the wrapped metal, but Harith quickly pushed his hand down, concealing it. "Don't show it to anyone," Harith said, as he grabbed the Wanderer's shoulders to maintain the illusion of a tearful farewell. "Take Defiance to Marquis, the Hand of the King. He will know what to do with it." He sighed, as tears began forming in his old eyes. "I don't think I can protect it anymore."
Harith walked away, hiding his face as he climbed into the carriage to join Sunny and Helen.
The Wanderer stood frozen in the sand, clutching the wrapped sword as the carriage began to move forward. He watched the vehicle shrink, leaving him drowning in his own thoughts, until Daniel's voice broke the silence.
"We should move too," the barkeep said, stepping up beside him.
The Wanderer nodded slowly. He walked over to the liquor carriage, and swung himself up onto the front bench next to Daniel.
Daniel glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "You don't plan to hide until we reach Valoria?"
The Wanderer reached up and clicked the button behind his ear and lifted Vincent's face from his features. "No more hiding," he said.
Daniel chuckled softly, snapping the reins. "That should be interesting."
The journey through the desert under the moonless sky felt endless, the vast emptiness stretching the journey. Two hours passed in silence.
Finally, the Wanderer broke the silence. "I'll rest in the back for a while."
Daniel didn't bother to reply, his eyes fixed on the stars above to guide their path through the dunes.
The Wanderer pulled back the canvas and climbed into the cargo bed, settling into the shadows between the liquor crates. As the carriage rocked, his mind drifted ahead to Valoria. He was going to see Serenya again. The thought made his chest tighten in a different way, and a smile broke across his face in the dark.
As he shifted his weight, his hand accidentally brushed against the wrapped weapon resting beside him.
The smile faded as the phantom memory of the blade burning his hand flashed through his mind, but the warning wasn't enough to stop his curiosity.
Slowly, he began to unwrap the cloth.
The dormant Spiral suddenly began raging within him.
His body trembled violently, his veins burning as his eyes flared with blue light. The entity was trying to take absolute control again. He fell to his hands and knees, groaning in pain. "No!"
He gritted his teeth so hard his gums bled, his muscles spasming uncontrollably as the internal storm tore through him.
A single drop of blood fell from his lip, landing onto the exposed steel of the blade.
The moment the blood touched the metal, a hidden mark on the hilt began to glow with a brilliant aura.
Suddenly, his right arm snapped forward against his will. He struggled against himself as his hand moved toward the weapon slowly.
The sword itself began to rattle against the wooden floorboards, vibrating with a matching frequency until his palm and the hilt clutched into each other like magnets.
His eyes fell upon the hilt in his hand. The new mark resembled a spiral.
The Wanderer unleashed a roar of pain as his entire body erupted, emitting a pillar of pure blue energy that pierced through the canvas roof and shot into the desert sky.
For a second, there was nothing.
Then, he opened his eyes.
He saw a boundless expanse made entirely of swirling blue energy. He looked around the empty space, when a figure materialized out of the light in front of him.
The figure's face was distorted, but he wore the exact same armor that the Wanderer’s other self once did.
The stranger lunged forward, grabbing the Wanderer by the shoulder desperately. "You're finally here." He checked over his shoulder. "Quickly, I don't have much time. You need to defeat the Beyonder."
The Wanderer stared at the glitching face in confusion. "Who are you?"
"I am Warden 604," the man said, his voice tearing. "I chased the Beyonder after he escaped the Spiral-" The man froze, his words cutting short as he dropped his arms, stepping back. "Wait. Something is wrong. Why are you so weak?"
The Wanderer hesitated. "I... I can't remember much," he said, pressing his hand against his heart. "All I know is that I have that thing trapped inside of me."
Warden 604 gasped. "You are the Final Protocol."
The glowing space around them began to fracture. Cracks ripped through the blue void, and volatile beams of energy shot through the sky from every direction.
"I'm fading," the figure shouted over the collapsing space, his body beginning to dissolve into static. "I can't say much... just collect the three swords and-"
The Warden's form dispersed into white noise, and the entire space around the Wanderer collapsed into darkness.
A distant voice echoed through the fading ringing in his ears. "...what have you done, idiot?!"
The Wanderer cracked his eyes open to find Daniel shaking him. The old barkeep's face was smeared with blood from a fresh cut on his forehead.
"Why would you use such high-level magic in the open like that?!" Daniel yelled as he looked around for anyone close.
The Wanderer looked down at Defiance, still gripped in his hand.
He touched his chest, feeling the Spiral calmly guiding his mana circles. "That wasn't magic," he murmured.
Daniel stood up, wiping the blood from his brow. "I'm not even sure if someone saw us."
Coughing harshly, the Wanderer forced himself up into a sitting position. He looked past Daniel, to find the carriage splintered outward.
"Where are the horses?" the Wanderer asked.
"You scared them off!" Daniel shouted back, gesturing wildly to the empty desert tracks.
The Wanderer stood up, brushing the debris from his clothes, and began inspecting the blade in his hand. It no longer burned his skin, and the spiral mark faded away.
He began wrapping the sword back in the heavy cloth. "It's okay. Valoria isn't far from here. We can walk for a couple of hours."
Daniel spun around, pointing a finger at him. "I don't want anything to do with you anymore. If the guards saw what happened, the mage seekers are surely on their way."
Daniel kicked through the wreckage, grabbed a surviving liquor bottle, and popped the cork.
He turned around, walking in the opposite direction.
The Wanderer watched the old man trudge away for a moment. "Hey. You weren't surprised by me using magic."
Daniel looked over his shoulder, smirking. "And I thought you were supposed to be smart."
Deciding not to press the old barkeep any further, the Wanderer turned and began the long walk toward Valoria.
As his boots sank into the desert sand as his mind raced back to the collapsing blue void and the words of Warden 604.
"That warden said he chased the Beyonder..." he muttered to himself.
He tried to piece together the fragments of history he knew. He wasn't sure how long the Warden had been trapped inside Defiance, but judging by the ancient Dragonborn records, it had to be sometime after the appearance of the First Dragon.
He stopped his stride, staring blankly at the sand. "...unless he was the First Dragon?"
If the Warden was the legendary figure, that would mean the Beyonder was the primordial monster he fought. The Wanderer shook his head, continuing his pace, his mind wrestling with the contradictions. But the legends stated that the First Dragon killed the monster. Did the history get it wrong? Did they just seal each other away?
He rubbed his head from the sheer lack of answers. "I wish he could have explained more."
Regardless of the ancient past, his path forward was clear. "Just collect the three swords." He needed to find the remaining two weapons. But first, he had a massive storm to navigate in Valoria.
After a few hours of walking, the colossal walls of Valoria gleamed on the horizon, reflecting the golden light of the rising sun.
The Wanderer slowed his pace, cautiously approaching the gates to see if anyone had noticed the energy from the night before. But to his surprise, everything appeared normal, even the Mage Seekers weren't there.
He dusted off the desert sand from his clothes and walked up to the guard station.
The guard on duty barely looked up. "Do you have a permit, or are you a new refugee?"
"I work for Duke Bradford," the Wanderer replied.
The man flipped through the pages of a logbook. "I don't have a record of anyone under the Duke's employ leaving Valoria recently. What's your name?"
"The Wanderer."
The guard froze, finally looking up. "Oh. You're the fugitive. Where have you been hiding?"
"I don't think I'm a fugitive anymore, am I?"
The man chuckled. "No, the Duke cleared that up. Just curious how you slipped past the walls in the first place."
"Yeah... right," the Wanderer deflected. "Where is Captain Zeek today, anyway?"
"He's in the main guardhouse. Sign the log before entering the city, though."
The Wanderer scratched his name into the book and headed toward the guardhouse.
Reaching Zeek’s office, he knocked on the door.
"Come in," Zeek’s voice called out from inside.
The Wanderer pushed the door open. Zeek lifted his gaze, the papers in his hands dropping to his desk as a look of disbelief crossed his face. "Look who finally showed up."
The Wanderer smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "It's a bit odd seeing you out of that tent, Captain."
Zeek smiled back, leaning back in his chair. "The construction in the refugee sector is finally finished, and there haven't been any 'strange accidents' since you departed. No reason for me to camp out there anymore."
Suddenly, Zeek jolted upright, and quietly shut the door, bolting it.
He turned around, lowering his voice. "I thought you would come back as Vincent to claim that title."
"I can't use that identity anymore."
"What happened?" Zeek asked, his brow furrowing.
The Wanderer pulled out a chair and sat down. "You might want to sit down for this."
As Zeek slowly took his seat, the Wanderer began laying out the sequence of events in Hosar, from the confrontation with Jericho to the terrifying scope of what the Owls were actually planning for the kingdom.
After an hour of absorbing the information, Zeek sat burying his head in his hands.
"This is far beyond what I ever imagined."
He lifted his head. "I thought these were just some bored nobles messing around."
"The whole refugee hatred thing was just a distraction," the Wanderer said.
"Keep the city looking inward while they pave the road from the outside."
Zeek stood up, pacing the room. "The Draemiran invasion is the most pressing matter now. We can't alert them that we know anything, or they'll change their tactics." He turned back to the Wanderer. "I need you to get back in with them. Find how and when."
The Wanderer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "They are expecting me anyway. But I need to wrap this up as fast as possible. I believe they're already growing suspicious of me."
Zeek frowned. "You seem more eager to get down to business this time. Usually, you have to be dragged into kingdom politics."
The Wanderer smiled. "You can thank Serenya for that."
Zeek immediately turned his back, crossing his hands behind him. "Do not speak to me about that heretic."
The Wanderer chuckled, standing up from his chair. "You're such a bad liar, Captain." He moved toward the door. "I'll go see that heretic now."