Book Three: Avatar of War - Chapter One: The Spoils of Hate

The Plane of Hate was no place to linger. Even after the fighting stopped, Caradawc felt its malice pressing against him—the air thick with the residue of the creatures they had killed and the dark power that soaked every stone of Innoruuk’s realm.

But the Frostraiders were alive. That was what mattered.

They had not come to conquer. They had come for armour and equipment, and they had taken it. Pebbles moved among the piles, sharp and practical.

“Gather what we can. We need better armour if we’re going to progress the way the officers planned.”

No one argued. Progression was never one glorious battle. It was piece by piece, raid by raid.

The Rune Etched armour began to appear. Caradawc lifted a breastplate and turned it in his hands. The craftsmanship was exquisite—runes etched with precision, plates shaped as if the metal itself had been persuaded into form. He had worn good armour before. This was different.

When the full set was assembled and fitted him perfectly, he stood for a moment simply looking at it. He had come a long way from the young Barbarian who first left Everfrost with little understanding of the world beyond snow and ice. Now he stood in the realm of Hate wearing armour forged to survive places like this.

It felt like progress.

Pebbles was already thinking further ahead. Senior Warriors claimed several pieces. Kabuki watched, expression souring, until she could no longer keep silent.

“Why do they get it? They’re Warriors too. Why are they always given priority?”

“Because they’re senior members,” Pebbles said evenly. “They’ve been here longer. We’re preparing the people we need for what comes next.”

“So I’m supposed to wait.”

“There will be other opportunities. Be patient.”

Kabuki folded her arms. “I’ve waited enough.” She turned and walked away.

Izzy called after her. Kabuki did not stop. Izzy stood a moment longer, then returned to Caradawc.

“She’s impossible. Hot-headed. I’ll talk to her when she cools off.”

Caradawc nodded. He hoped she was right.

Around them the practical work of the raid continued. Break was gone—another Shaman whose path had led elsewhere. Others had come and gone. But when the officers needed Shamans they could count on, two names always appeared: Caradawc and Phephe.

He looked down at the new armour and felt the satisfaction slip. He had spent more time with Phephe lately than with Izzy. Shared raids had brought familiarity, then trust. Somewhere along the way something else had settled between them.

Izzy and Kabuki had grown close. He had noticed and chosen not to look too closely. Now, watching Izzy’s distraction, he understood he was no longer the first person she turned to.

The thought pulled an older memory with it—Sunflower, and the quiet of Surefall Glade. Skittlesz, the Barbarian warrior who had once put him on his back and laughed about it afterwards. People who had mattered, then simply continued on roads of their own.

He did not want to lose Izzy the same way.

Pebbles called for the remaining equipment. The Frostraiders still had work to do. They had survived Hate. They had grown stronger. The officers already had plans for what came next.

Caradawc looked once toward the path Kabuki had taken, then followed the others.