The exposed conduit thrummed, a pulse of bled vitality echoing through the soil Tevis had so recently tilled. It burrowed into the bedrock, too deep for a simple hoe to follow. Tevis frowned, a crease forming between his brows. “This looks rather rude. We can’t have this. It’s siphoning the goodness right out of the land.” He knelt, placing a hand on the massive pipe. It was smooth, cold, and hummed with a resonance that felt less like magic and more like raw, extracted life. Oksia stood behind him, her gaze fixed on the unnatural glow welling up from the depths. The air around the opening felt thin, as if the world itself was sighing. “My lord,” Oksia began, her voice a low murmur, “the resonance… it leads deeper than any mine shaft I have ever known. It feels… deliberate. Like a wound.” Tevis nodded, pulling his hand away. “A wound, you say? Hmm. Well, wounds need tending. Or, in this case, perhaps… a bypass.” He looked at her. “Can you see the source? I need to know where it’s coming from. Can’t fix a leak without finding the tap.” Oksia’s eyes, still shimmering with the residual divine light from the preceding battle, narrowed. A prickle ran along the base of her skull, sour and distinct from the lurking horrors of the mire. She extended a hand, focusing her inner sight, letting the current of drained power guide her. The conduit pulsed, its pirated ichor a river of dull light beneath the earth. It twisted, descended, and then abruptly opened into a vast, cavernous chamber deep below the former redoubt. A place of shadowed rock, choked with the same cursed fog that permeated the wider marsh, but here it was thick with the scent of ozone and ancient despair. And then she saw him. Shackled to a central plinth, his body translucent with constant spiritual loss, was a man. His hair, once a proud crest of midnight, hung in lank, grey strands. His face, once etched with the imperious lines of command, was gaunt, his eyes sunken and vacant. He was a husk, kept alive by the very irons that bound him, siphoning his life force into the ravenous pipeline. Her father. Vorn Miersa. The deposed Emperor, whose betrayal had led to her exile, whose machinations had cost her everything. An involuntary gasp escaped Oksia. Her throat seized, tasting of ash and betrayal. Her knuckles blanched against the hilt of her sword. The image of him, broken and used, stoked an old, acrid fury in her chest. This was the monster who had condemned her to the swamps, who had stripped her birthright. This was the man who deserved every moment of this agonizing torment, and more. “Oksia?” Tevis’s voice, calm and inquisitive, cut through the red haze of her fury. “What did you find? Is it a particularly stubborn root system?” She didn't answer. Her gaze, usually so clear and devoted, turned dark with ancient pain and raw, untamed vengeance. The ghost of a thousand cold nights in the mire, a thousand desperate battles, a thousand whispered curses against his name, rose to the surface. Her arm moved, a fluid, practiced motion. The polished steel of her blade snicked clear of the scabbard, throwing sharp glare across the rim of the pit. She took a step towards the gaping maw of the shaft, intent on descending, on ending his suffering, but more importantly, on asserting her own power, her own ruthlessness, for the god who had saved her. She would show him she was worthy of his divine presence, that she could be as decisive as the mud that vaporized war-barges. Her father, a shadow of the man he once was, twitched slightly, his eyes fluttering open to reveal a sliver of recognition, a flicker of fear. He was trapped, a living battery, the very essence of his being fueling the Empire’s ambition, an ambition that had always devoured its own. Her sword hummed, a low, eager song of retribution. She saw herself plunging it into his chest, ending the reign of terror he had once embodied, severing the last, bitter link to her past. The thought was intoxicating, a dark, sweet release. Then, dry knuckles tapped her shoulder. Tevis’s hand. His touch was warm, comforting, yet it halted her as surely as an invisible wall. The fury scouring her ribs sputtered out, checked by that placid presence. “Now, now,” Tevis said, his voice soft, almost chiding, “no need for all that fuss. What have we here? Oh, dear. That’s not a root system at all. It’s… a person. And those look like very uncomfortable restraints.” He stepped past her, peering down into the chasm. He hummed thoughtfully. “And powering this whole contraption, too. That’s awfully inefficient. All that power, just to keep someone bound. A waste, truly.” With another thoughtful hum, Tevis extended his hand, not towards Oksia’s father, but towards the massive, arcane links that bound him. The air around Tevis’s fingers shimmered, not with magic, but with an intrinsic rightness, a fundamental harmony that warped the very fabric of the world. Oksia watched, mesmerized, as the cold, black metallic links of the chains began to shift. Not breaking, not dissolving, but transforming. Dark green tendrils snaked forth, intertwining with the rigid metal, softening its harsh lines. Tiny, emerald leaves unfurled, followed by vibrant, crimson blossoms. The arcane runes carved into the links pulsed once, then faded, replaced by the delicate veins of petals. The metal groaned, stretching, twisting into pliant green. Before another breath passed, the impenetrable, world-binding fetters had become a cascade of fragrant, blooming vines, supporting the emaciated man, but no longer holding him captive. The connection to the pipeline severed, the siphon halted. Vorn Miersa, released from his torment, slumped forward into the cradle of leaves. Tevis smiled, a wide, beatific expression of simple satisfaction. “There,” he said warmly, pulling his hand back. “Much better. Fertilizer is better than revenge, after all. All that latent energy, put to good use for growing things.” He glanced at Oksia, his eyes sparkling with innocent contentment. “Don’t you agree?” Oksia’s sword, forgotten in her grip, clattered to the newly tilled earth. Her ribs rattled with each rough beat beneath her breastplate. The overwhelming, terrifyingly soft display of his power, the casual redirection of cosmic wrath into simple, beautiful growth, cemented her devotion deeper than any oath. He had, with a touch, undone her life’s purpose, erased her vengeance, and offered a gentler, more profound path. And in doing so, he had become an even more unfathomable, more worshipped deity in her eyes. Her chin dipped toward the dirt, her adoration absolute. At that exact moment, a deafening klaxon screamed from the depths of the chasm, an alarm triggered by the sudden, catastrophic drop in pipeline pressure. The ground beneath them shuddered violently. The sky above, previously a serene expanse of grey, tore open with a sound like ripping silk, revealing a gaping, ethereal portal from which an impossibly vast, obsidian dreadnought, bristling with arcane weaponry and burning with cold, hateful light, began to descend directly over Tevis’s flourishing farm.

Fertilizer is Better Than Revenge