Just as the guard informed us, the man found floating down the river was in a sorry condition. He looked famished and infirm, his body all crisscrossed by hideous scars. The Healers had removed his dirty, tattered clothes, washed his body and dressed him in a clean robe. One of them was channeling a Mending spell; her hands shone with golden light that penetrated the wounded man’s skin, lighting his flesh from the inside. The man moaned and turned on his bed.

“He’s in very bad shape,” The Healer said after breaking the spell, too tired to continue casting it. “It’s a miracle he survived such an ordeal; Gods only know how long did he spend alone in the dark.”

“However distressing floating down the Underground River might’ve been, I’m guessing it was a much comforting prospect than keeping on enduring whatever harshness this poor man had suffered,” The Head Healer said. “These wounds were inflicted by Anchlesian whips. I saw too many of those during the occupation.”

“In other words, this man is an escaped slave. One of my countrymen, it seems” Lady Elandra said. She approached the man and noticed something on the necklace he was wearing. “He carries the badge of the Rangers.”

“One of your former men, perhaps?” Master Brand asked.

“Might be, but having hundreds of Rangers under your command makes it difficult to know them all by name, or recall their faces…“ The Nordenian emissary mused.

“In any case, I think we should let the Healers do their job, and pray this man wakes up.” Earl Lorrick suggested. “He might yet be the one person we need to confirm the rumors about the Anchlesians’ plans. The fact that he came through the river makes it more plausible that they might indeed be building an underground passage.”

“Indeed," I said. "Mother Healers, please do everything in your power to help this poor soul. He might have some of the answers we are looking for.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” The Healers nodded. “We will keep you posted on his evolution.”

With little more we could do at the moment, we decided to retire for the remainder of the day. Wraith and I returned to the Spire, and as soon as the chamber doors were closed he said:

“So… another message from your Gods?”

“Go ahead and call it a coincidence if that’s what you prefer,” I replied, unwilling to enter into yet another argument with my Champion. “But the fact that the man came like this, precisely after the Ceremony, and after hearing what that Magus said… I can’t help but think all of this is connected.”

“At least he can give us facts we can act upon, rather than more divine nonsense.” He crossed his arms. “And while I don’t quite trust Magi either, at least their mumbo-jumbo is based on… whatever they study while cloistered in their damned towers! What did the Magus say, anyway? I wasn’t there, remember?”

“Indeed, and that was because you can’t tame that tongue of yours!” I returned harshly at him. “Was it really necessary? Humiliate our guests, and me in the process?”

“Look, I…”

Wraith was about to say something rash again before stopping. He looked down, his face twisted in anger for a while. He sighed and looked back at me, his brow furrowed in a mixed state of annoyance and embarrassment. “I just don’t know how to deal with people like you do, all right? So I…” he swallowed hard, “I apologize for what happened.”

I was quite surprised at his earnestness, however uncomfortable it made him. “I had you the type that never says sorry for anything, to be honest…”

“I don’t tend to, so believe me when I say I’m sorry.” He huffed before adding, “Don’t count on it happening very often, though!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Wraith’s awkward, somewhat childish demeanor.

“What’s so funny?” He asked. “Don’t make me regret apologizing to you already!”

“Sorry!” I giggled. “It’s just that I thought that maybe… just maybe… there might be hope for you after all.”

My Champion mumbled something in frustration as he turned his back to me.

“Don’t bet all of your gold on it!” He said as he walked toward his bedroom.

I was so eager to follow on the man’s condition that, after finishing my breakfast the next morning, I simply couldn’t sit and wait for news. Wraith insisted on waiting, but as soon as he realized I was going out anyway had no choice but to follow me.

“And she says I'm impulsive,” he moaned while rolling his eyes in annoyance.

At the Hospice, the Healers informed me that the man was, in fact, awake, but his condition was unstable. The Four Heads had been informed and were on their way as well. But I didn't want to wait. Something inside me told me the poor man wouldn’t be in our World for much longer, and I felt that the Gods brought him to Ysle for a very important reason.

“Your Highness,” The Healer tending to the man’s wounds said while stepping aside.

I looked upon the wretched man and my eyes teared up. His eyes only spoke of sadness and pain. His face and body had aged prematurely due to the cruelty of his captors.

“Wh… where… where am I?” He asked, his voice weak and hoarse, full of fear.

I took his thin, calloused hands and said with all the compassion I could muster:

“You are in the city of Ysle. You have nothing to fear anymore.”

“Ysle?“ the man repeated, still unsure of what he had just heard. “Spirits... be praised!” A faint smile of relief appeared on his face. “Somehow… I made it…”

“You are a Nordenian, correct?” I asked him. “A Ranger…”

“Yes, my Lady.” the Nordenian nodded weakly. “Though I doubt I can lift a bow now, let alone draw it… not in my sorry state…”

The man coughed and wheezed, and his body started to tremble.

“So long has been… being called “slave” by the Ravens, tortured by their iron whips, I don’t… I don’t even remember my name anymore!” He sobbed. “I just… I only remember the green hills of my homeland… and my family...”

“It’s alright… As soon as you feel better, we'll help you return to Norden.” I reassured him.

“Thank you for your kindness, My Lady… but…” he coughed again, this time more strongly. “But… but I can feel it already… the many years of torture and endless toil… had taken its toll… But… even if I might not see my country again, at least I can… ah! I can warn you…”

“Your Highness,” The Healer said, “you must let this man rest! If he keeps talking further he might…”

“I appreciate your concern, Priestess,” The Ranger said. He coughed some more before adding: “But this information is more important… more valuable… than my own life. And it’s on its last legs, anyway… So please…” he winced. “Please listen to my tale…”

The Nordenian was, indeed, one of the Rangers sent by the Grand Duke as part of the Compact army that came to Ysle to liberate it from the Anchlesians. During the final assault he was wounded and captured by the Raven Legions. But instead of killing him on the spot, he and other captured soldiers were taken to Anchlesia. Some were executed; others were sent to the Arena to die in the gladiatorial contests; a few had even worse fates in the hands of the Raven-priests. But the Ranger and many others were kept as slaves instead.

“They put me in chains and sent me to what I thought at first was a very large mine, located a few days east of Anchlesia. But as we dug deeper and deeper into the hard rock and tapped no veins, we came to realize that what we were doing was building a tunnel.”

“So it’s true that the Ravens are building a passage to the A’dari Wastes, right beneath the Ironclaws,” Wraith pointed out. “Even if you confirm it, I can't wrap my head around it! It's nuts!”

The Nordenian nodded weakly in agreement. It was at this point that the Four Heads and the Compact emissaries made it to the Hospice.

“I don’t know the details, as obviously knowing that was… not necessary to carry out our tasks,” the Ranger admitted. “The only thing I know for sure is that this project is of vital importance to the Empire… or rather… to the Raven-priests…”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“They are in charge of it, overseeing the work almost daily.”

The Ranger said that he once overheard one of the Raven-priests in charge speak something about “finding the Heart”. None of us had any idea what this “Heart” thing could be, but if it was so important for the servants of a Void-lord, it cannot be anything good for sure.

The man continued with his tale, explaining that carving a path through the hard rock was nearly impossible. Lots of cave-ins set them back countless times, killing many slaves. But the Ravens were dead set on completing the project at any cost, bringing almost every slave available to the dig site. The Raven-priests even dared to summon Daemons and raise the dead diggers, denying them their final rest. Even so, progress was slow.

“In nearly ten years we managed to dig only a few miles into the mountain. But about three years ago they brought in the Derman machine. I’ve never seen anything like that before. That infernal machine dug through the granite as if it was made of warm butter!”

The man started coughing again, his breathing becoming more difficult. The Healer insisted on letting the man rest, but he would have none of that. As his brow started to cover in sweat, he said, his voice even hoarser:

“I only managed to escape the Ravens because, as we dug deeper, we found natural caverns. A few others and I managed to sneak through one of those caves, eventually finding the river. We built a raft and hopped into… the water… but we were so weak… my friends didn’t make it… “

The man grabbed his chest and he writhed in pain. The Healer wouldn’t have any of that either and proceeded to channel her healing spell through the man’s body. But it was already too late for him. He stared at me and said:

“My Lady… the Anchlesian Corridor… is almost complete… You… must… tell… the Compact… War is… coming… soon… argh!”

The man contorted in pain, and his breathing became faster and shallower. He made a final effort to remain awake, but he was simply too weak; he was far too gone. The only thing the Healer could do was ease his pain and help him depart his broken body as peacefully as possible, closing his eyes once he did.

I couldn’t help but shed some silent tears for him.

“May the Gods grant this poor man’s Soul Peace,” The Healer said, lowering her head respectfully.

Lady Elandra approached and also lowered her head as a sign of respect for her dead compatriot. “At ease, Ranger. I'll make sure your remains are returned to our homeland. It’s the least we can do for you now.”

We all paid our respects to the man, thanking him for his service and sacrifice to both his country and the Compact, and to bring us the confirmation we needed about our enemy’s plans.

No sooner we left the Hospice, Earl Lorrick spoke:

“So you heard it from a first-hand witness now. The Anchlesian Corridor exists. If they haven’t finished it already, it will be very soon. Are we going to let the Raven Legions free rein in the Wastes? Seek out and secure this ‘Heart’ thing they are looking for?”

“We need to send word to the Triumvirs at once!” Brand the Rezan said. “We might already be too late to prevent them from gaining a foothold there!”

“And there you go once more!” Mother Asli quipped. “War! War! That’s the answer to all of our problems!”

“Can’t you see it yet, Priestess!?” Lady Elandra blurted out. “If the Empire truly wanted peace as you claim, wouldn’t they try to reach us out and negotiate, instead of doing something as absurd as digging through miles of damned rock to get to A’dar, basically rendering all of your efforts to keep the way shut pointless?”

Asli didn’t relent. “The only thing I see is this: The Gods let Their displeasure be well known to everyone in this City. The news this man brought only confirms that, unless we find an understanding with the Empire, Ysle will perish! If the Compact wants to wage perpetual war with them, so be it! But this city shouldn’t bleed for foreigners!”

The Head Confessor turned to me next.

“Your Majesty, the Will of the Gods is quite clear; the path you intend to take Ysle into will only lead to ruin… Your people’s ruin! You must-”

This was the last straw for me.

“Head Confessor, I know we've never seen eye to eye in several matters, but I admire your conviction and desire to strive for peace,” I admitted. “But I’ve always found your constant advocacy of peace with the Empire odd, to say the least. The Raven Legions had targeted our realms for nearly a century, and even managed to capture our City for a little while. They looted our houses, killed our friends and family – my parents among them – and took hundreds of us as slaves. Now they are so desperate to get to the Wastes and find this… this ‘Heart’, whatever it is… that they are literally carving a way under an impassable mountain range!”

“I am sorry, Mother Asli… and Gods forgive me but,” I paused to get a breath of fresh air. “But I’d rather lead Ysle to ruin while trying to stop Anchlesia than let her be enslaved by those monsters again!”

“Wow!” Wraith whistled in surprise. “You have way more balls than I imagined, Princess!”

The Head Confessor’s face reddened as it became distorted with rage.

“So you have decided to pay no heed to the warnings of the Gods while you still have a chance. Foolish girl! You’ll doom us all!”

“Know your place, Head Confessor!” I retorted with an auctoritas that surprised everyone, myself included. “I will not tolerate your insolence!”

“Oh, but you tolerate your so-called Champion’s just right!" she spat. "Yet another proof that the Gods had withdrawn Their Favor from you, child!”

“Stop it, Sister!” Mother Zafira intervened. “Even if that were the case, she’s our Princess!”

“You mean your Princess!” Mother Asli hissed. “If she won’t listen to reason, then I'll take my advice to those who will! For I serve neither the Princess nor the Priestesshood! I serve the Gods and the people of Ysle!”

“Sister…” The other Heads muttered.

We tried to stop her, but Asli simply walked away in a furious rush. The Compact emissaries looked at each other in amazement, wondering what had just happened. Wraith, on the other hand, looked quite amused with this.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve just witnessed,” I said, returning to my calmer self.

“These are trying times for everyone, Your Highness.” The Yeonbrookean Emissary smiled. “But if I can be honest with you… I think you should keep an eye on your… is it former Head Confessor now?”

I sighed.

“She cares for Ysle as much as I do, perhaps even more… But sometimes I feel like something… something’s amiss in her, as if…” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I’m not making any sense at all!”

I somehow knew that even if Mother Asli – or “former Mother”, as the Earl suggested? – would no longer be around the Temple Complex, that wouldn’t be the last we were going to hear from her.

What I didn’t know then was what she would be up to, until it was too late to contain.