Where Olam’s aura was a silent wave, Balek’s roared like a ferocious tide. Thin lines tore on the side of his face. The flesh broke, and power leaked out of the body. David winced, wondering if the man was dead before the god possessed him or if he was still there, suffocated by the presence of a god in his body.

  Balek smiled. The glow in the back of his eyes gave away his delight at David’s discomfort.

  “You knew him, didn’t you?” Balek asked knowingly.

  David turned from the god to the old man at the end of the table. Even with the weight of their combined aura, he felt the warmth of the hearth. The fire snapped, danced, and burned steadily. It filled the room with warmth, balancing the chill of Balek’s power.

  “What do you want, Lord Ruler?” Olam asked. His eyes narrowed, piercing David as if waiting to weigh his desires. David felt small in front of the Eternal. Fragile. He was the weakest in the room. Both beings were confined by rules he still didn’t understand, but he knew they could skirt them.

  Still, he met the old man’s eyes with cold determination. Olam knew what he wanted. And so did Balek. This was a formality.

  “A path,” David said, his voice tighter than he wanted. He pushed the anxiety away. He pulled in some of Ignis’s arrogance and felt the surge of the dragon’s annoyance. Ignis hated Balek. David welcomed the sentiment. It felt completely his own, as if the emotion originated from him.

  Olam waited.

  “A path to the tower’s core,” David continued. Balek leaned closer, his arms on the table. He picked at the flesh around the fingers, pulling at them like strings of skin, uncovering the layer beneath. A storm of revulsion formed in the pit of his belly. David’s fingers folded into a fist. Guilt snagged him, coiling about him as familiarity turned to recognition.

  The man was one of the people who came with Carlos and Gis. One of the many who betrayed him for promises from Balek.

  Good riddance, Ignis hissed. And David agreed. Yet, he couldn’t shake the terrible rage filling him as more and more of the man broke to the power eating him from the inside.

  “Focus on why you are here,” Aza warned. The fragment’s voice pulled David from the cloud of anger, grounding him. Olam watched with the patience of one who would outlive a universe. His old, weathered face stared calmly.

  “I need a path to the Tower’s core,” David said. “I demand it.”

  Olam nodded. He turned to Balek, his fingers knotting as he regarded the tower god. The space around Balek crackled; sparks of indigo and blue danced around him. His authority seemed restrained, but it rattled David. He felt the vibration on his spine. It took all his effort to stay still.

  “I would like to refuse,” Balek said, his grin turning into a venomous smile. “The trials of every tower are to be suffered. There are no shortcuts, no paved paths.”

  “People are suffering there,” David retorted. “You have pulled them from their homes, from the worlds they know. And you move them like pieces for your insidious game.”

  Balek chuckled. He leaned back, and David noticed gashes on his neck. The body would soon be destroyed. And perhaps the soul had been completely consumed already.

  “You wail about the natural order of things, David. But perhaps it is because you are still human. Your eyes and mind can’t possibly understand the mechanism of existence. Let me share with you a small piece of wisdom: suffering is a natural part of life. In all forms, at all levels, and in every age of life. Even gods suffer.”

  David wanted to yell. He felt it bubble up his chest and suppressed it quickly. Instead, he turned his sight on the Eternal.

  “Will you help me or not?” David asked. The Eternal was silent.

  “He can’t,” Balek answered for the old man—that shocked David.

  “No,” Balek said. “It is more like he is waiting to see how the scale will dip. This is beyond what you can comprehend, David. Your mind is simple, human. Go back to what you know. Or submit to me.”

  “Ignore him,” Aza whispered. “Don’t let him goad you. Eternals are patient, but they can be cruel. And this is Olam’s hearth.”

  “Balek,” Olam called. The tower-god turned toward the eternal, eyes narrowed to a slit. David thought for a moment that he would attack Olam. The moment stretched until Balek sighed.

  “Let’s continue, then,” Olam muttered, leaning forward. “You have both expressed your desires. And I can only grant one.”

  “Then send them back on their original paths,” Balek growled. “You knew from the beginning that this was pointless and yet you let it drag on.”

  “No,” Olam said. “We will use the scale of Faeren, my sister.”

  Balek sat up. The crackle of power around him was louder now. He pointed at Olam with one broken finger.

  “That is not part of the rule, old man,” Balek said. His voice came out pressed and threatening, like a seething beast.

  Olam met the god’s fiery stare with a cool one. “You are old, Balek, but not that old. The rules are not set in stone. If they were, the forces of the cosmos would restrict me immediately. You know that, don’t you? I can’t be partial.”

  “What is the scale of Faeren?” David asked, confused. Balek hissed, turning dark eyes on David. The left side of the face was gone, burnt by the power of Balek’s divinity. A black, smoky chasm filled it now, its color shifting as if unsure of what it was. The god was slowly turning into a grotesque creature, and he didn’t seem to mind.

  “This,” Olam said, stretching out his arm in front of them with his palm flat open. The statue of a sitting winged creature appeared between David and Balek. It formed slowly. Its furry, small legs first, then thick, muscled torso, and finally the head of a woman with a torrent of long, golden hair. On her back were the wings of a bat.

  Olam, the Eternal of Passage, has summoned a mythic artifact!

  The Scale of Faeren has been summoned!

  Let balance be in favor of the just!

  The scales hung from her outstretched hands—the left golden and the right black. They swung gently until they came to rest. The creature hovered above the table, its eyes closed. David peered closely at the scale, reaching forward to touch it.

  “Don’t,” Aza warned, and his fingers stopped a few inches away from it.

  “You have lost this,” Vith said with a sigh.

  “Agreed,” Aza echoed.

  David didn’t have the time to ask why they thought so. The presence of something foreign in the room shocked him. A rush of cold air touched his skin, raising gooseflesh all over his arm and back. It carried an ethereal power that was so different from Olam’s. David felt nourished and soothed.

  Olam gasped as David finally saw the source of the power in Balek’s hand. It pushed against Balek’s power, shrouding it briefly. The large wounds on his face were healed immediately, flesh knitting over the smoke. And the mangled fingers, too.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  David stared at the large feather in Balek’s hand. It glowed faintly with what David assumed was the light of divinity.

  Balek placed the feather on the black scale. It stayed still for a moment. David’s heart churned in his chest. Aza’s silence meant that even the fragment was captivated by the feather. Vith hid her emotions, but David knew—they were right, he had lost.

  Balek’s grin widened as the statue’s eyes opened. Her eyes shone with liquid gold. Then the scale dipped all the way down until it was touching the table.

  Olam sighed. David sensed the old man’s silence and felt hope slip through his fingers.

  “The feather of Ho-Ar,” Olam said, still unable to look away from the beautiful thing. It pulsed with power still. “They were beautiful things. Filled with the powers of the first creation. Born from the divine will of someone many have forgotten.”

  “Not all,” Balek muttered.

  “I see,” Olam said. “Lord Ruler, this will not be easy to beat. But my sister’s scale doesn’t measure value the same way I do. What do you have to offer?”

  The silenced rage he’d been holding erupted. The calming effect of the feather slipped off him easily, and he launched up from his seat.

  “Stop,” Aza warned, but David couldn’t help it. He felt powerless. Desperate. The unfairness of the system raked at his insides, and the bitterness dizzied him.

  You cannot beat them both, Ignis warned. I see it too, we all do. But you should know that you are outmatched and will be overpowered. A dragon knows when to rage. A dragon knows.

  David’s chest heaved. It was difficult to wrestle with the impulse to summon his sword. Despair fogged his thoughts.

  “You are auctioning favors?” David asked. He tried to keep his anger from his voice, but he failed. Balek's haunting smile made it worse. The god gloated, knowing he had won. Olam looked sad. Disappointed.

  “You fail to understand,” Olam muttered, looking up at him. “Perhaps Lord Balek is right about your human limitations.”

  Sit down, Ignis suggested. David did, hating the worm of fear, making him cautious. This world was ruled by power and station. He had neither. If he were stronger, he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t need their help.

  “Wisdom too,” Vith said. “And I hate to agree with that idiot, but Balek is right. Wait, watch, and listen before you speak.”

  The rebuke stung. Even worse than her other sarcastic remarks.

  “What do you have?” Olam asked again. His gnarly fingers scratched his chin while his eye fixed on David. David wondered what he could drop. He had nothing he could bring that was as good as the feather. Nothing tha---

  He closed his eyes and summoned the orb Ishkar gave him. It pushed out of his chest, floating in front of him. Compared to the feather, the orb was duller. With the orb, something throbbed with unmistakable power.

  Item name: Blood of the Sun-killer

  Item grade: Rare

  Item type: Unknown

  “Ahh,” Olam said with a sigh. A small smile formed on his lips as he reached forward. A subtle shift of power pulled it from David’s grasp. It floated over to him. Olam stared at it. His eyes didn’t carry the same delight as they did for the feather, but they were curious.

  “The blood of the Sun-killer,” Olam said.

  “Joros?” Balek asked with a chuckle.

  “No,” Olam responded. “And Joros didn’t kill the sun. He slew the beast of a fire god. Stories and legends changed it as time passed.”

  Olam flicked a finger, and the orb flew over to the scale. It slowly settled down on the golden scale, and they all watched with bated breath.

  “I don’t understand my sister’s scale fully,” Olam began, “It has always been strange to me. But it measures the balance of the world. I trust her sense of fairness.”

  “And yet,” Balek said, his eyes fixed on the scale. “It doesn’t move.”

  Olam nodded sadly. “Yes. It doesn’t.”

  Olam reached for the orb again, looked at it briefly, and threw it back to David. It sank back into his chest and disappeared.

  Balek chuckled. “There is no way to win. Your choices are perish or submit.”

  David leaned forward, his head to the table. A sudden fatigue made his bones heavy. The scale slowly vanished, and so did the feather.

  “Why flog yourself against fate?” Balek asked, his voice low, more human. “Why punish those who follow you? You are strong, and I commend you. But only a few win in a duel against fate, and even in victory, they end up damaged beyond repair.”

  David let the god’s voice wash through him. He had hoped this would be easier. Perhaps that was the problem?

  “No,” Aza answered. “That is not it.”

  Or maybe that scale was a trick?

  “Eternals don’t play tricks, dragon. They are not like your kind,” Vith said, her words laced with malice.

  David let them bicker. He distracted himself with the noise of their voices. He sank so far into it that he almost missed Olam’s.

  “What?” Balek asked. David looked up, frowning.

  “For the sake of balance,” Olam said. “Perhaps there is a way for you two to find what you want.”

  “Why?” Balek asked, physically enraged. His left hand ripped out and fell off the left sleeve of the tunic. Burned thoroughly.

  More and more power leaked from Balek.

  This is not essence, David thought as he looked at Balek’s distorted and twisted form.

  “No,” Aza agreed.

  “After all that?” Balek asked, his voice turning into a roar. The husk peeled off him. The man was definitely dead now. Power collected within Balek, dense and suffocating. Yet, the hearth remained unbothered.

  “You would break the rules, old man?” Balek asked, a threat in his voice. “You would undo yourself? How foolish. There is no way. No path. No fate. And yet you would craft one for him. Upending the divine will.”

  The table groaned and vibrated. David stood up and took a step away from it. Olam remained seated.

  Still calm.

  “How foolish,” Vith muttered, and David wondered if she meant the god or the Eternal.

  The human body Balek came with was completely gone now. What remained was a faceless presence. It swirled, carrying the tunic about.

  The left sleeve pointed at David. David staggered away, summoning his sword. The air whistled until it became a scream. David didn’t have to see the attack to know. He would die. There was nothing he could do against something like this.

  “How about it, Olam? How about I kill him right here, ending this farce?”

  Olam said nothing. He watched Balek’s phantom form as the god’s authority unspooled chaos in his space.

  “No?” Balek asked. “No word? Then so be it.”

  The room shrank and the air vanished. David’s lungs inflated, and he heard the maddening thuds of his heart. In that same moment, webs of cracks appeared in the space behind Balek.

  Olam, the Eternal of Passage, has opened a path!

  “Curse you, Olam!” Balek roared just before something invisible pulled him back, and the gateway swallowed him and every shred of his presence.

  The room snapped into place, and David staggered into a wall. His legs shook. His entire body trembled. His heart rattled in his chest. The dread didn’t fade away until moments later. The old man walked over to him, leaning on his staff, a smile on his face.

  “What…” David swallowed, still shaken. “What was that?”

  “An angry young god,” Olam said. He reached out as if about to touch the air like Ilana did when she said her prayers. He plucked something from the air and tossed it at David.

  David opened his palm to find a coin. Black. With a rough depiction of his face. The edge shone faintly. The coin was as big as a medal, thick as his thumb. Yet, it weighed nothing at all.

  “What is this?” David asked, staring at his shaking hand.

  “A new path,” Olam replied. “Now, it will be worse than the one you had before. But it might be shorter. Balek will find you. He won’t be able to kill you directly in the tower.”

  “He just tried to kill me,” David groaned. He tried to sit up and stopped when he realized he still couldn’t stop his legs from shaking.

  “We are not in the tower.”

  David nodded. “And this new path?”

  “Find the builder, Adelia, she is not restricted by the same laws that bind me. She will show you the core.”

  The old man leaned down and pressed a finger to David’s forehead. Essence filled him almost immediately. A quiet calm eased his terror. David took a deep breath and exhaled, feeling as though he had rested for days.

  Olam grinned, showing perfect dentition. “It’s time to go.”

  “My family?” David asked, standing up.

  “You will find them on the other side.”

  The space between them groaned, then cracks and deep fissures formed until the space shattered, and David looked into the depths of the new gateway.

  Olam, the Eternal of Passage, has opened a path!