Michael awoke in the middle of the night. He wasn't sure of how long he'd been asleep, but at some point when he and the others had been staring into the fire, he must've drifted off. He sat up and poked at the coals with a long stick, stoking the fire a bit before forcing himself to his feet to toss several more sticks and a bit more kindling into it. It wasn't necessary for the weather, but it did keep the large number of swamp insects from swarming across them. They hadn't had that issue when they'd had their tents, but without them it was a problem.

After Michael had driven back the last of the ambushers they'd manage to fall back further into the swamp along with the Cantalians. Aside from Davi they'd also lost Devahn, Alvarez, and a dozen others. The Cantalian forces had lost three lieutenants, the Breakers had lost their leader Jeb, and the other mercenary company had apparently lost three of their mages.

Once they were safe a clearer picture of what had happened had come into focus. The main group of Burndan forces had done a forced march to attack the Cantalian forces. Their winged mercenaries killed almost everyone on watch, letting them get closer than anyone expected. They'd gotten lucky that two of those on watch had managed to warn everyone anyway. The main Burndan forces stayed in the Cantalian camp and scattered their forces. With their forces spread out, Burndan forces sent out smaller groups with heavy mage support that let their men march quickly. The purpose of that force was to kill priority targets identified in the last battle. Michael had made the cut, and from what he understood they sent more after him than almost anyone else.

"I should've known the spell was coming," said Ollie.

Michael might've jumped in surprise if he wasn't so numb.

"No. You said yourself that the channeling was gradual. The entire time we were holding off their regular troops the mages were preparing that attack. Even if you'd known what would we have done differently? Any barrier you summoned wouldn't have been able to stop it. Trees wouldn't have provided us with cover. Marcus may have been able to drop a few of them, but… it only would've taken one to kill any of us. If we'd tried to go prone to avoid it they would've just aimed lower, or their other troops would've run us through before we could pick ourselves back up out of the muck."

"I could've done something."

Michael went to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We all could have. You don't carry all that weight alone."

Ollie didn't answer, just staring at the renewed fire.

"Drink some more of the tea Tallant gave us to knock us out for the night. We'll be moving again in the morning."

Ollie nodded at that, and went to pour another cup of the now cold tea. Michael watched him drink and fed the fire a bit more. Marcus and Pyotr had nodded off at some point, empty bottles of something ghastly clutched loosely in their hands. Michael didn't judge them. He would've had some too if he hadn't just been staring into space for the last several hours, unaware of anything that was going on around him. He looked over to see Davi's pack a few feet away. He wasn't sure who had grabbed it, but he couldn't stand looking at it for long. Burying him had been hard enough.

…

Michael wasn't sure of when he'd fallen asleep, but he suddenly found himself awake. The fire was still burning in front of him, but it was low and would soon go out. The others were asleep, even Ollie who it seemed had finally been taken by the tea he'd drank.

Michael could feel a pull, a powerful one, and realized it was Godseeker activating. Michael didn't want to follow it. His faith was strong, but he was tired. So damned tired.

The pressure from Godseeker increased and he cursed under his breath as he stood. It felt close, why hadn't he felt it before? Had it been there the entire time and he'd been too numb to realize it? No, this was something different.

He brought himself to his feet and began walking, feeling the pull strengthen as he got closer. He walked for fifteen minutes before he began to think he should turn back. There may still be winged Burndan mercenaries out, or dangerous animals and plants he should be looking out for. He could return in the morning with his friends.

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Just before he made the decision to leave, he saw a flicker of gold light ahead of him. He moved toward it and entered a muddy clearing. In the center of it, rising from the muck, was a large stone hand holding a scale. Standing behind it, lighting everything up was a figure made of oscillating golden light. The figure was feminine, more than a head taller than him, and when Michael got closer he realized that it was made up of words written in gold. She was like a walking list of Titles and Deeds, it was all written the same font, the same shade of gold, as when he divined anything. He tried to read the words as they scrolled along the being's skin, but they changed too quickly for him to grasp.

The figure moved toward him, and he could feel the intense power of it as it approached. Michael stayed still, the radiance of her, the power, it felt distant. Even with all of it standing directly in front of him, he just couldn't seem to feel the awe he normally experienced in the presence of the divine. He just felt emptiness.

As she approached him, he could see the golden light of his own titles and deeds began to be pulled from him. Long ribbons of words spiraled off of him and toward the woman made of light in front of him. As they reached her, they began to surround her, to circle around her as she went through all of it. It was more than his titles and deeds, it was his every action, his every word, he could see it all being laid bare in front of her.

She was Judgement. He was certain of that. How would she judge him? A man that had taken the life of a child as he entered this world. A man that had spilled blood to survive. A man who had done everything he could to heal those who needed it. A man who had tried to spare those enemies that would let him. A man who only lived because a friend sacrificed himself to save him. He didn't wallow in guilt as he had when he'd first arrived. It was there, always there, but he didn't let himself drown in it. He had value, purpose, but how would this goddess judge him? He kept going for the good he could do, but was that even something she would consider. He wished he knew more about the gods. He supposed he was learning more even in that moment.

She reached down to him and he expected it to touch his chest, to grab his heart and place it on the scale behind her like an old myth. He didn't move, still unable to truly feel the moment. He was a million miles away, pushing his friend's body off of himself and looking down at his headless corpse.

That's when the goddess of judgement drew him into a hug. He could feel the warmth of the divine literally wrapping around him, suffusing him.

~Your friend sits with me now, and I, Estaid bearer of the scales, judge you worthy~

Michael felt himself come back into his senses in that moment. All the distance his mind had created, all the numbness, it crumbled in an instant. He began to cry, a great wracking sob that caused his body to shudder and shake. The goddess's embrace drew him closer and held him tighter.

He wasn't sure how long he cried, but when his tears ran dry he felt a final squeeze from Estaid and then she was gone. Michael brought himself back to his feet. He didn't feel better, but he felt, and that was an improvement.

"Thank you, Estaid," he muttered, as he turned to start walking back toward the camp.

~Michael~

He whipped around to see another goddess. This time he recognized her immediately. She wasn't made up of words of gold as Estaid had been, but seemed translucent, ephemeral as she stood in front of him. Her posture was perfect, a massive shield sat in one hand, and her eyes were the color of iron.

"Seras," he said, nearly dropping to his knees, but stopping as she held him up, suddenly standing right in front of him.

~Michael see~

Michael gasped as information flooded his mind.

…

Michael was swimming in a great black ocean filled with glimmering lights, his body weightless and intangible. He was turned sharply toward a world of green lands and wide blue seas surrounded by a barrier of golden light. As he watched, the barrier flickered in places, and small golden orbs would push their way inside, landing among the green patches of land.

Suddenly, a massive bull the color of blood smashed into the barrier. It crashed its horns against it, and the space around it shook from its impossible power. It reared back and smashed its horns down again, then again. The tips of its horns carving small wounds into the golden shield. Beings smaller than the bull would occasionally slip in front of it and into the barrier through the slits its horns created, but just as often as they would get through, the bull would eat them with violently snapping jaws as it prepared for another charge.

The bull's head began to split open as it pounded its skull against the barrier. Blood started to fall from it in a trickle, and that trickle quickly grew into a flood. The crimson tide of it began to flow into the wounds and drip onto the green surface of the world. As the blood began to spread, a shield appeared and began to block it. Soon it was joined by a crown on one side, and a staff on another. Even that was not enough to stop the flood though. An army of smaller shields arrived, and together they managed to stop the flow. When the blood had been stopped completely, gold light emanated from all of the shields and reached the barrier. Suddenly the barrier began to thicken and fortify, becoming solid. This time when the bull smashed its mighty horns into it, they broke.

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