In a personal pocket dimension impossibly far away from dimension 242, a blue flame flickered to life atop a half-melted candle, and illuminated its surroundings far more effectively than should be possible for such a small flame. The wax of this candle would never melt, its magical fire not requiring fuel nor creating heat, but its creator had a fondness for aesthetics and the nostalgia the shape inspired. The small, round table the candle appeared melted to looked even more well-used. It was made of misshapen and off-colored wooden planks, covered in knife marks and stains, and with a very clear tilt due to one of its legs being about an inch shorter than the others.

  The table wasn’t created to look quite like this. The design and quality was always a bit bungled, courtesy of inexperienced craftsmanship, but it had at least been level at one point. But, after the passage of time had had its way with the thing, instead of replacing it the table’s creator had lovingly placed enchantments on it to keep the ancient keepsake preserved in its state of wear and disrepair. The five stools that sat around the table were equally ancient, having been created at the same time as the table.

  A reinforced door was the only other feature of the small room. This place served a single purpose, and little else was needed for it to do so. It was a meeting place for five old friends to speak openly, and with absolute certainty that there would be no interruptions or uninvited guests.

  Not long after the candle flickered to life, the door opened and a broad-shouldered Orc wearing shiny plate armor stepped in. He took a moment to look over the scene before him, his green lips forming into sad and wistful smile that curled around small tusks, before busying himself with the final touches this meeting needed. Namely, a book to put under the short leg of the table to level it out, and a pint glass in front of each stool.

  The pints were empty, since the Orc was not a cook. Another attendee would bring the required beer, like she always did. And he would not have to wait long after sitting down for the others to start filing in.

  After the Orc was a woman, though you could only tell once she sat down and collected herself back into a more solid, almost human form. Her entrance had resembled the door blowing open from a gust of wind more than a person walking in. The Orc did not even flinch at her arrival, entirely used to the Fairy’s antics, and after a brief greeting the woman flounced onto her own stool to wait for the others. Unable to sit still for any amount of time, she pulled out a worn dagger to toss into the air and catch repeatedly.

  A second woman, a Hekaton that was sporting an obscene amount of weapons strapped to her body, entered next. The beer she quickly poured into all five pints would make waiting for their final arrivals much easier.

  The fourth was a Creaturekin, a willowy man with a mostly elven appearance. Huge, black, scaled wings adorned his back and an impressive set of antlers sat atop his head. A soft click of claws on the floor could be heard as he made his way to a seat at the table, murmuring appreciation for the booze.

  After the Creaturekin entered, minutes ticked by, the only sounds coming from the rustle of clothes and wings, and the occasional clink of metal. They collectively stared at the door, waiting. But they could not wait forever, and it was not long before the Orc let out a long sigh.

  The candle was a beacon, their fifth would have known the moment it was lit and what it meant. He had the means to enter or project into this pocket dimension, no matter his own location. He was still welcome here, despite everything. He would always be welcome. But it had been a very, very long time since the fifth had sat among the old friends. Pouring the fifth pint, and waiting for a time after the fourth arrival, was more ritual than actual hope.

  It would have been really nice to have him here this time, though, since the topic was more than a little related to their missing member.

  “We all know why we are here?” The Orc spoke in a solemn rumble as he glanced around the table.

  The Creaturekin snorted, “I can think of at least two reasons. The Gift, or the death toll?”

  “The System corruption, and the death toll, obviously. Why would we...”

  The Orc was cut off by the Fairy’s lyrical voice. “You can’t fool us. I think I nearly dropped dead when I saw the sign of his Gift showing up in 242.”

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

  “We’ve talked about this at length. Freeform shows up every damn Awakening cycle at least a few times, and it’s not even related to a specific Gift, much less Set’s.”

  “Just how far do you keep your head in the sand to not even hear about the hottest topic in the Collective, Thor? Not Freeform. Hubris. ”

  The Orc’s eyes widened at the revelation. He very purposefully tried to keep himself separate from the details of new dimensional Awakenings, and particularly from the details of specific Awakened. Thor found the betting distasteful, and the analysis of individuals pointless. All that mattered to him was the dimensional survival rate. A rate that had decreased to the point of concern almost one hundred cycles ago, and had only gotten worse since. “I... You know damn well I don’t look at those reports. It’s not Set, is it?”

  Thor’s three companions shook their heads quickly. “Definitely not. This Awakened picked up Freeform very early, and it evolved to Hubris during Araphassa’s Labyrinth.” Thor grimaced at the Creaturekin’s mention of the Labyrinth. The Collective was over the moon about the amount of extra data that floor was providing them with, but all he could see was how less than half the Awakened who entered the floor managed to leave alive. Araphassa herself was so distraught over her safe training dungeon being turned into a slaughterhouse that the Knight had not been seen since the numbers began to roll in.

  “I can see why the Awakened’s mentor would be excited to see that kind of skill evolution, but how would that be the ‘hottest topic’, as you put it Nyx? No one should be able to connect that skill to Set, or his Gift.”

  “Because Stelphan wasn’t able to make the mentor link with them.” The Fairy, Nyx, had a brief burst of laughter before continuing, “And as far as anyone can tell, it wasn’t due to his own incompetence. Something else took over the channel we use for interference.”

  “You think Set interfered instead.” Thor crossed his arms and leaned back as he spoke. His statement might have been posed as a question if he was speaking to anyone else, but he knew the three Awakened at the table like the back of his hand. Perhaps even better than that, since they had been friends for a long, long time.

  Nyx shrugged. “We can’t rule it out.”

  The Creaturekin tapped long nails on his pint glass, while speaking in a low rumble, “A record number of deaths, with a new record set every cycle for twenty cycles in a row. A record number of oddities, in the same record setting pattern. Twenty dimensions ending in consumption at Terminus. That is a streak that is impossible for anyone to just ignore, and even the most inattentive of the Paragons have rightfully started to feel concerned.”

  “That is why we are having this conversation, Herne. We need to...” Thor paused as the Creaturekin stood up abruptly, interrupting the Orc’s attempts to put the conversation back on track and away from more painful topics.

  There was a soft rustle as Herne moved, and scales clicking as they shifted against each other, followed by the click of talons in time to his restless pacing as he spoke again. “And if we are this concerned at the rate of System corruption growth, how desperate do you think Set is? Desperate enough to try and cultivate another Breaker?”

  The mere mention of a Breaker made Thor flinch. The five of them had thought once that a Breaker would be their salvation, but it had ended up only making things far worse. The idea that another might rise...

  “If that is the case... maybe we should let this take its course.” Thor’s head snapped towards the Hekaton as she spoke, the Orc startled by her suggestion and still reeling from the Creaturekin’s words. Catching his look, and the equally appalled one on Nyx’s face, she sighed and continued, “Don’t look at me like that. We’ve tried everything. Perhaps Set was right; and if this is his doing, I don’t think more harm can be done by just letting it happen.”

  “A Breaker, Ishtar. You are talking about letting another Breaker form, and saying it could do no harm?” Thor stood up from his stool, slamming one hand down on the rickety table. “Do you not remember?! Because I do!”

  Ishtar’s voice became sharp in response to Thor’s anger. “Of course I remember. Everything, everyone , that was lost, and that the only thing we gained was more time. But nothing else has worked . Nothing we have done has had even the smallest effect on the spread of corruption. The same pattern repeats itself, despite our efforts.” Her voice became soft again as the Hekaton reached across the table to place one of her hands over his. “Maybe it needs to break.”