A horn’s roar pierces the night. Tocsin. I would recognize him anywhere.

I step out of the transport’s cabin, my senses on high alert. Fastening my belt around my hips, I check my sword. Then, I grab my broad shield, which I had placed by the access hatch, and secure it onto my arm. Somewhere, a soldier rings the bells as recruits and troopers spring into action. Despite the general chaos, I center my mind, allowing it to reach the point of Coalescence. I feel the Gestalt open slightly and pull me in. My troopers do the same. I sense their minds appearing one by one, like sparks within my own, amid the countless others surrounding me.

I climb onto the armored vehicle, gripping the cannon as I scan the blizzard. Already, the first directives and reports flood in from all sides. I listen, sorting through them, processing all this information to devise the best tactic.

Assault. Northern sector of the convoy. About forty enemies. Belisenki.

The word reverberates in my mind as it does in every soldier of the Ordis. And I feel fear creeping into the network of our interwoven psyches. But I do not allow it to take root within my troops—I stamp it out, demanding their full focus, their undivided attention.

Northwest quadrant. Hyperbola formation.

I grit my teeth and begin issuing orders.

Gathongo, Paio, Zumac; Binar, Serhing, Foma—shield wall. Anosha, Rhyakin, Eigil, and Cagdas—rear support. Assefa, Makosoi, Seocan; Viri, Garon, Uzda—interception mode. The rest, cover the Axiom tank’s advance and the mortars!

Everyone obeys without hesitation, finding reassurance in the brief, precise instructions I give. We have drilled these maneuvers a thousand times—whether in the Kurung or here, in the frozen expanses. As I relay my orders, I trace ephemeral Heka symbols in the air, which the Axiom’s transmission corps translates and relays to its own contingents. I hear the crackling of radios, the hum of machinery, the chime of sonar screens...

Grenadiers pass by me, mobile mortars slung over their shoulders. The armored vehicle’s treads crunch against the snow as the tank I stand on pivots. But through the swirling wind and the clamor of our preparations, the shrill cries of the Belisenki already tear through the darkness. Their swarms chatter and shriek, their mandibles clicking frantically.

Western sector, new contact.

Damn it. How many are there? I had spoken with a Muna plenipotentiary who sought to ban the use of weapons in hopes of finding a peaceful resolution. His arguments made sense, but after witnessing one of their offensives firsthand, I knew such a thing was impossible. Negotiating with this species was futile. We were intruders in their territory, and the only argument they would acknowledge was violence.

‘Unstable terrain. Cease fire. I repeat, cease fire! Sappers, fall back!’

Voices crackle over the radio, cut by static and interference. The tank grinds to a halt, and I curse inwardly. If we cannot rely on the Axiom’s artillery cover, this battle will be even tougher. But we have no choice—protecting the convoy is all that matters, and triggering an avalanche could be a thousand times worse.

As per my instructions, the first group deploys, shadowed by the archers. I relay an engagement vector to my hidden sharpshooters before dropping from the immobilized tank. Raising my shield against the biting snow, I continue tracing Heka symbols with my other hand, ensuring our formation holds. Protection glyphs, endurance sigils, simple warmth charms—I weave them one after another, casting them upon my immediate surroundings before spreading my command through the Gestalt.

Our priority is protecting the convoy.

‘Gul!’

I spin around, immediately irritated at the sound of his voice. Kojo is making his way toward me, panic in his eyes, stumbling clumsily through the thick snow. Luckily for him, Booda is by his side, melting the frost with each step.

I shout at him.

‘Get back under cover! You have no business being here!’

He glares at me, his brows furrowing.

‘While everyone else is fighting?’ he retorts. ‘Who do you take me for?’

Ever since he supposedly defeated the Kraken, he has been growing bolder. This reckless streak needs to end—fast—for his own good.

‘You’re no warrior!’

‘I asked Atsadi to train me. And I already know how to fight!’

I signal my troops to move forward and grab him by the collar.

‘You’re not ready! You got lucky last time! Don’t tempt fate!’

‘Luck is something you make’, he replies without flinching.

‘Enough! You’re just a messenger. Just because you pulled off one feat doesn’t mean you should let it go to your head. Keep your feet on the ground, do you hear me?’

He clenches his jaw and meets my gaze.

‘You’ve always thought I was useless, and it infuriates you that I’m the one who got the glory. Like it or not, we are an Exalt.’

How dare he?

Booda growls, and I suddenly realize I’m still gripping my brother’s collar. I reluctantly let go. I can’t afford to fixate on him—my soldiers need me.

‘You’d better not die. I promised Mom and Dad I’d look after you.’

‘I’m not a kid anymore, sis, and I’ll prove it to you.’

He charges into the fray.

‘Sis… Arrogant fool.’

Tocs.

I’ll handle it, Gul, I hear him say in my mind.

I’ve wasted enough time. By the time I reach my squad, they’ve positioned themselves to ensure the convoy can proceed toward the base camp under their protection. Already, in the air, stray ideas drift in from the distant, stormy unknown. The intensity of the Tumult’s winds has increased drastically in the past hours. Soon, they will crash against the foundational ideas of the Oasis… and with any luck, the Oasis will be strong enough to shield us from their devastation.

Moments later, through the blizzard, I hear my Alter Ego land on the front line, not far from Kojo’s position.

Above us, the Belisenki swarms buzz and screech, their fleeting shapes nearly blending with the dense cloud cover. They dive toward us. Foma and Zumac swiftly raise their shields, talons scraping against the metal. Eigil and Anosha fire arrows in their wake, though it’s impossible to tell if they struck true.

Tighten the ranks!

I push my voice through the Gestalt, fighting to be heard, but slowly, my squad organizes itself. In the distance, where the melee is thickest and most chaotic, I hear the cries and whimpers of the wounded.

Recruits down! Requesting evacuation!

At this rate, we won’t last much longer.

Gul, we’re initiating a retreat. Cover us!

I acknowledge the situation to Tocsin.

Viridia, Uzda, it’s your turn.

The shield wall parts to let them pass. I watch as they disappear toward the front line, lighting torches to guide the troops toward an escape vector. Cover fire. Arrows whistle through the sky, shielding the two soldiers from aerial threats. After a short wait, I see my two scouts returning with the first wounded.

Take shelter near the tank.

The soldiers don’t hesitate, leaving behind crimson droplets on the otherwise pristine snow. From where I stand, I can see my Chimera striking the air, sweeping its arms in great arcs to keep the Belisenki at bay. Beside it, dulled by the thick mist shrouding everything like a funeral veil, the incandescent glow of Booda zigzags through the icy turmoil. Three more figures approach, under the escort I sent to retrieve them…

Captain!

I turn around just in time to parry the attack of a Belasenka. Its wings vibrate around it, spread above its antennae to form a menacing face—dark interwoven eyes staring at me. Its expressionless head studies me, and I feel the air tremble. It’s as if the very idea of cold is crystallizing around the creature, as if…

I brace myself for impact. It’s about to use minor Alteration. Suddenly, jagged ice spikes erupt from the ground. I barely manage to raise my shield in time, and the spikes shatter against it, warping its surface from the sheer force.

Then, I call upon my own Alteration. The Heka symbols dance before me as the snow beneath us solidifies into marble. Columns and blocks rise from the ground, twisting and locking together to trap my enemy.

With my blade, I slash through the frozen spikes, closing in as I summon a new ideogram—the one for “shrillness”. Immediately, I see the Belasenka’s antennae twitch, then curl inward. I amplify the sound, raising it to a piercing pitch. All around, the creatures shriek and scatter in confusion. I may have bought us a few moments of reprieve.

Suddenly, a shimmering, undulating surface materializes before me, and from it steps the young mage named Akesha. She looks around, taking in her surroundings. Then, more portals appear across the battlefield, spilling forth new Initiates along with Eidolons.

Reinforcements? No, they aren’t equipped for combat. Are they here to extract us? Had high command decided to abandon all heavy equipment to the growing Tumult?

With a simple motion, the young mage unfurls a cloth on the ground, revealing its contents—small, curved, translucent objects.

‘Each of you, take one! Quickly!’, she calls out.

There’s no time for hesitation. I grab one of the objects, initially thinking it’s a glass vial. But as I look closer, I realize it’s an empty cocoon, made of ice or crystal—a ruptured chrysalis, with traces of a blue liquid still clinging inside.

I narrow my eyes, pausing for just a fraction of a second.

‘Gulrang, trust me!’

A single glance at her is enough. I bite into the chrysalis, crunching through its chitinous shell. Immediately, a rich, syrupy essence bursts into my mouth, saturating my senses. The liquid is as bitter as it is herbal, coating my throat as I swallow with distaste.

Do as she says.

Every member of my squad grabs a hollow nymph casing and follows suit.

‘What is this supposed to do?’

Akesha smiles at me, then turns toward the Belisenki.

‘Make sure we’re no longer intruders’, she answers cryptically.

I scan the area, staying on guard to protect her from any incoming attack.

‘Just listen’, she says simply.

So I do. The howling wind. The occasional clash of weapons. But already, something has changed. The creatures' screeches have faded, just like the clamor of battle. Even the bitter cold seems to have eased.

Ahead of me, the Belasenka I had trapped in marble breaks free. But its behavior is nothing like the aggression it showed just minutes ago. It moves cautiously across the snow, its wings brushing against the powder. As if it no longer sees us. No... as if we no longer matter to it.

Then, suddenly, it takes off, vanishing into the swirling snowdrifts.

‘What just happened?’

The mage turns to me, beaming.

‘That’s a long story.’