Bonded Summoner

Book 9. Chapter 31: A Home for the Depths

The Great Temple of Firewake was almost unrecognizable from the fortress of elitist zealots it had been before Clan Hart’s arrival.

Walking through the sprawling, obsidian-pillared corridors with Jake and his wives–Avalara coming as a lesser Avatar for convenience–as they looked out over the branching courtyards. They were absolutely packed. The previous regime had mandated that only those with ‘true purity’ of the fire bloodline could enter the inner rings to worship. Now, the gates were thrown wide open.

While the temple still segregated resources to nurture the highly talented within the Core Sanctum, the courtyards were filled with mundane merchants, soot-stained craftsmen, and off-duty guards. All of them bathed in the ambient, comforting warmth of Sati’s...the moon’s radiant flame.

Waiting for them at the entrance to the inner sanctum was the temple’s triumvirate of leadership: Elder Rashik, the wizened, fire-skinned goblin; Tatiana, a fire sylph whose brilliant, fiery butterfly wings fluttered excitedly behind her petite elven frame; and Ur'Rena, the towering, muscled fire troll who bowed her head in deep reverence.

Jake couldn’t help but be a little shocked at how much the three had changed. First, they were all taller, with longer limbs, and their auras were far denser to match. Then, instead of the crude tattoos on their skin, the fiery energy flowed brightly and harmoniously through their mana channels throughout their entire body, and it was dense enough for most people to see through their skin.

“Moon Goddess,” Ur'Rena rumbled, offering a woven basket of burning, highly aromatic spices. “The courtyards sing your praises. The hearths burn bright.”

Sati didn't blush or wave them off in false modesty. She sat perfectly poised, her aura flaring with disciplined warmth. She accepted the basket, locked eyes with Jake for a brief moment, and softly spoke, “Svaha.” It was an ancient offering of surrender to the divine flame, matching the name of the Hindu goddess. Sati wouldn't be hoarding the native faith. She would instead offer the devotion directly into their shared bond later.

Jake smiled and shook Rashik’s hand. “Elder Rashik–you’re looking good, my friend. Your worship and The Framework have been kind to your body and spirit, I see.”

There was no way that this growth was entirely through worship, no matter how good Yogini Norisa’s texts were. It had been less than a year, after all, and gaining ten levels by sitting in a temple, even early in the Tier, was just not something that happened. Jake already learned that the three had been involved in quite a bit of the Rift farming at their goddess’s–Sati’s command.

Elder Rashik chuckled. “This Bhakti Yoga is truly wonderful for the flesh and the spirit, and the battle against the invaders has only amplified this. Truth be told, even if the battle has been righteous, I still can’t help but dislike the use of fire to fight. But I can’t argue that it is not only necessary, it has also greatly made me more. With a stronger spirit, my offering burns that much brighter and purer.”Sati nodded. “Your spirit truly burns radiant and pure, Elder Rashik. To protect the weak and end needless suffering, we must destroy the wicked and impede its encroachment. That is dharma. You will find enlightenment through burning away the darkness and revealing the truth.”

Ur’Rena looked much more relaxed than when they had first met, her face slack with a small smile as if she were at peace. “Yes, we understand now. For so long we had hoarded our resources, and that had actually prevented people from taking up the strength to fight. For that reason alone it should have been our duty, but we avoided it. If we wish for peace, we must first earn it.”

Tatiana smiled as she looked around at the many people practicing Bhakti Yoga, young and old. “I love the ways the temple has changed. So many new faces, and plenty of children so full of life. I feel like Hestia and Brigid are to thank for this, though I know a lot of it is Sati’s influence. She has softened the flame’s heat.”

Elder Rashik frowned, hesitating. “I know you’ve instructed us, but something still doesn’t feel quite right to me. Does it bother you, Divine Sati? That others have...found faith with these other Divine? We wish to understand how best to run this...multi-faceted temple.”

Ur’Rena grunted. “He’s right. Balancing our...influence as your clergy has been a challenge. Of course, we have the most passion for the Divine we have chosen to worship. How can this not be troublesome, to convince others to join the ones we don’t personally follow? We are not used to this.”

Sati shook her head, giving Rashik and Ur’Rena a small smile. “Worry not about how I feel about this. Their flames are a part of me, just as they are an undeniable part of the tapestry of existence. Let those who resonate most with the First Ember and the Fertile Flame give their faithful devotion to the fire that matches their heat. You may help others find passion in the devotional surrender to me, but if it becomes clear to you that they match another, do not deter them or force them down another path.”

Jake added, “I don’t think it’s so easy to perfectly identify which Divine resonates with each individual, as many will resonate with several, and–people change or need different things at differing points in their lives. It takes an expensive, limited artifact to test for this resonance. All you can do is do your best to help guide people to find their path, and I don’t think anyone can hold it against you for being imperfect.”

People could go visit the shrines at the HQ and learn if they are compatible with a god or goddess, as well as learn if they would accept their Oath when it came to establishing their clergy-based class under the Framework. However, it wasn’t as if they would get a report or scorecard, which allowed them to compare which god they were best with.

There were things that resembled psychological tests Jake had seen on Earth that would help someone, but they were far from perfect, easily skewed by the test-taker’s perception of the questions based on their personal experiences–it didn’t read their soul. For perfection, that took what Jake had stated–a special test that would test their spirit, reaching deep down into the core of who they were. Clan Hart intended to test all of their children at once, likely after they had finished their Conflicts.

Sati nodded. “My Ishvara is correct. Try to approach prospective followers with an open mind to help them decide on their own. And if you incorrectly diagnose or otherwise help someone down the wrong or imperfect path, then what can it be other than Fate? Just do the best you can.”

Elder Rashik’s eyes lit up a bit at that. “Just do our best? Fate? I see. That...is reassuring. I’m glad that this Accord makes things so...harmonious compared to my expectations. Our old doctrines would have anyone who even breathed about another Divine in these walls removed.”

Jake’s family went to see the different areas, visiting the different people they had worked with. Blood had a few people training to become administrators and correspondents who would remain present on the world after they left, and Nessa had a few Justicars in training in each temple. Tanda also worked with natives within the temple to find special breeds of underground plants to cultivate, and Ophelia with some of their smiths. Nearly everyone had a reason to visit and meet with various natives.

As Jake watched the courtyards bustling with life, a heavy, anticipatory weight settled in his chest. The Burning Steps was healing. The natives had finally found their harmony. But the world’s ecosystem was still fatally out of balance, a dry husk waiting for rain.

He checked his clock in his Menu. It was time.

“The temple is ready,” Jake said quietly, drawing the attention of his wives and the native triumvirate. His demeanor shifted, the relaxed patriarch vanishing behind the absolute, focused authority of a leader. “But this world won't survive on fire, wind, and earth alone. It's time to see if Pelagos is ready to bring the tides. Let's get to the conference room.”

The family nodded, following the triumvirate into the secured conference room.

The room was already occupied by the leaders of the other surviving factions. High Prelate Lethyrian of the Wind Elves stood near the far wall, his expression carrying a calm, detached grace. Beside him sat Elder Morak, the heavily armored, rock-skinned chieftain of the Earth Trolls.

Jake hadn’t gotten to see him in battle, but apparently he had fought hard against the earthquakes caused by the two Aspects before they had arrived along with Garona.

“Champion, and Ladies,” Morak grunted, offering Jake a fist-to-chest salute before his rocky face broke into a wry, rumbling grin. “I see you're still keeping the Earth Mother's child busy. I won't lie, when your people took ‘Garona’ with you, half my shamans wept.”

Morak leaned back, the stone chair groaning under his immense weight. “But between you and me? Our temple vaults have never looked better. Do you have any idea how many tons of high-grade spirit-ore it takes to feed a pampered titanic tortoise every week? The princess was eating enough gem lettuce to run our gem mines dry.” He chuckled. “And now that they have that much more spare time, they can practice the Earthen Bhakti Yoga presented to us. We’re so much better off. It was a blessing in disguise, and my people are truly thriving.” He frowned, lost in thought. “It’s almost as if she was a burden that held us back.”

Across the table, Tanda’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The beastkin crossed her arms, a look of quiet, absolute outrage crossing her face. She wasn't offended on the tortoise's behalf; she was remembering the massive, crater-sized bites taken out of her personal, meticulously cultivated spirit-herb gardens back at Sanctum by that exact same ‘lazy princess,’ and that this ‘burden’ was now hers.

Jake had to bite the inside of his cheek to suppress a laugh, gently putting a hand on Tanda's shoulder to keep her from verbally laying into the oblivious troll chieftain. “With us, she earns her keep, Elder Morak,” Jake said diplomatically, though he gave Tanda's shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

A raspy, wet chuckle echoed from the end of the table. “It’s good to finally meet you, Lord Hart.”

Sitting in a specialized, humidified stone basin was Elder Oram. It was Jake’s first time seeing the Anuran leader up close. The frog-kin was a resilient, fascinating creature. He had mottled, mud-brown skin, wide, incredibly perceptive golden eyes, and a broad, powerful jaw. He was a survivor of the deep crust–a representative of the people who had miraculously outlived a boiling ocean by magically hibernating in the mud and deep waterways for centuries.

“Good to meet you too, Elder Oram. I’m sorry we haven’t had much chance to talk. I hope it’s not too hot in here?”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all–no problem at all. Thanks to the Divine Sati’s teachings and the resources you’ve granted my people, I can stand strong even in places like this.” He flourished the edge of his shawl, showing off the light-blue garment. It was a cultivator item that Jake had helped improve that would help retain moisture and manage temperature. Combined with his chilled seat, he did look to be staying cool.

Jake nodded at that. “Is everyone ready to meet with the representatives?”

Elder Morak and High Prelate Lethyrian each nodded, though Jake could sense a slight hesitation.

“We are all eager to see the world restored, Champion,” Oram rasped, his throat-sac puffing slightly. “My people feel the water arrays thrumming in the deep earth. The Great Well continues to receive, and it has already been a tremendous success. We thank you for everything you’ve done so far, but I am eager to see how this mere pond becomes a Great Well once again.”

Jake nodded, his gaze sweeping over the gathered native leaders. “We have the infrastructure in place, Elder. But the magic and the mithril cables are the easy part. People are much more challenging to deal with than mere things. Not everything can be built with money and back-breaking work alone.”

He stepped up to the central array table, his demeanor shifting from conversational warmth into the sharp, absolute focus of a leader. He placed his hands flat on the obsidian surface, looking at the empty projection space.

“A merger like this requires absolute trust between two deeply wounded peoples,” Jake said quietly, the weight of the moment settling over the room. “If we can't find common ground in this room today, all the arrays in the world won't matter. Let's bring them in.”

Blood, standing near the back of the room, tapped her Menu. The telepresence artifact in the center of the table hummed to life, projecting a shimmering, localized mana-hologram.

Two figures materialized in the war room, projecting from the liberated world of Pelagos.

The first was a striking Vellari woman. She had beautiful, Greek-elven facial features, but her 'hair' was a mesmerizing crown of aquatic tentacles that shifted and flowed in a phantom current. Below her skirted waist, she possessed the sleek, powerful lower half of a deep-sea mermaid.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Beside her stood a rugged Islander. He was tall, deeply tanned, and entirely human-adjacent, as identified by the Framework. With his Umbral Gaze, Jake caught the thick webbing between the man’s toes and fingers and the subtle, pulsating slits of weak gills hidden just beneath his armpits–evolutionary traits meant for long pearl dives in shallow atolls.

“Champion Hart,” the Vellari woman spoke, her voice melodic and resonant. “The Republic of Pelagos answers your call.”

Jake nodded respectfully. “Representatives. I take it our preliminary terms have been reviewed?”

The Vellari woman pressed a hand to her chest. “They have. And before we speak of the future, I must speak of the past. Lady Blood and Lady Nessa’s raids on the Obsidian Blades' slave markets brought hundreds of our scattered kin home. You asked for nothing in return. For a people who have known only chains from the heavens, that mercy means more than you know.”

Beside her, the rugged Islander crossed his arms. The weak gills beneath his armpits flared slightly as he scrutinized Jake. “I won't pretend I wasn't skeptical,” the man admitted, his voice deep. “I dug into your Hearthtribe, Champion. Heard whispers of betrayals and tyranny. But when I tracked those rumors down, they were all spat by captured oath-breakers and exiled warlords. I couldn't find a single citizen across your empire who called you a tyrant, and most thanked their lucky stars your people govern them instead of their predecessors. That buys my ear. Now, buy my people's future. Tell me how moving to your sky saves us.”

Blood slithered forward, her expression cool and pragmatic as she brought up a secondary holographic projection, showing the staggering, systemic difference between the two worlds. The size difference was quite drastic.

“Pelagos is a plundered Tier 1 world,” Blood explained, pointing to the fractured, dimmed leylines of their hologram. “Right now, your planetary Energy Rating is capped around 1.65, a shadow of what your world used to be. Even if you rebuild your republic, your people’s futures are limited outside of the Adventurers who join the Framework, and your world could take decades to heal naturally. The reality of the cosmos is cruel. Without extreme resource hoarding or unnatural arrays, by the time your people finally stand back up, the next wave of Framework conquests or Tartarus schemes will likely be on the horizon to kick you right back down.”

She swiped her hand, replacing the plundered planet with the glowing blueprint of the artificial water moon orbiting The Burning Steps and the potential placement within the water continent. The leylines were noticeably brighter, the density levels much higher.

“We aren't just giving you a refugee camp. We are merging your oceans into a Tier 2 continent,” Blood continued, letting the weight of the truth settle over the room. “The moment the merger completes, your base energy level should transcend your old limits. Your damaged leylines will heal, the mana becoming denser and the water more magically abundant. Your people will have the headroom to actually grow and thrive, and with enough time, reach the Second Tier whether they fight in the war or not. They can become more than they are now.”

Jake stepped up beside Blood, his demeanor shifting from the stoic commander to the earnest, idealistic patriarch.

“Lady Blood is right about the math, but that’s only half the truth. There is justice and good in this merger, not only tangible benefits.” Jake said, his voice carrying a warm sincerity. He looked directly at the Islander and the Vellari woman. “We aren't just offering you charity. The truth is, The Burning Steps needs you. This world is fatally out of balance, skewed too far toward the heat of the fire and the grinding earth. If you accept this merger, you aren't arriving as burdens or dependents. You are arriving as the vital counterbalance that heals their home. You get to rescue each other and become true partners. That’s what we do in the Hearthtribe. We don’t just survive. We do everything in our power to lift each other up.”

The Islander’s eyes widened slightly. To Jake, it seemed like his pragmatic skepticism was dissolving, dismantled by the sheer, undeniable economic ascension Blood presented, perfectly paired with the dignity of Jake's mutual rescue. It was an offer no sane leader could refuse.

But before the Islander could give his assent, High Prelate Lethyrian stepped forward, his wind-elven features tight with concern.

“Pardon my interruption, Champion,” Lethyrian said, his voice a cool breeze cutting through the room's quiet. He looked between Jake and the holograms. “A mutual rescue is a beautiful ideal. But let us be pragmatic. We all know from Lady Blood that Hearthtribe has already secured a developing beast world that is largely aquatic–a perfectly viable, alternative ocean to seed our continent and moon. The Burning Steps does not need Pelagos to survive.”

Lethyrian turned his sharp gaze fully to the Vellari and the Islander. “And you could choose to remain on your plundered world and rebuild, however perilous that may be. Neither of us must force a union if the fit is poor. Economic salvation is one thing. But what of the spirit? Our world was nearly torn apart by fractured worship. We have finally found harmony under the Moon Goddess and the Accord Divine, only beginning to walk a more diverse path of spirituality. So I ask those from Pelagos: What gods do you bring to our waters? Will your pantheons war with ours for the leylines?”

Elder Morak crossed his heavy stone arms, nodding in agreement with the elf. “He's right. The leylines are sensitive. If you bring a horde of angry, foreign sea gods into our sky or flowing through our rivers, it could throw our delicate balance we worked so hard for right back out of alignment.”

The Vellari woman’s expression darkened, the phantom current in her tentacled hair slowing to a mournful drift.

“You do not need to fear our gods, High Prelate,” she said, her voice laced with bitter grief. “Because we have none left to pray to. When the Obsidian Blades and their ilk put collars on our people, our children, we screamed to the heavens and the deepest depths. Neither answered. The slavers prized us for our unique looks, taking us as exotic trophies, and I’m not sure which was worse–they also harvested our organs for their dark alchemy and nefarious purposes. We were butchered while the cosmos looked the other way.”

She shifted her mesmerizing eyes back to Jake and Sati, her expression softening just a fraction, though the heavy sorrow remained. “As I said, we are eternally grateful to the Hearthtribe for bringing our captors to justice and offering so much help. We will try to keep our minds open. But you must understand... for the thousands who suffered and died before salvation, that justice was simply too little, too late. The scars run too deep. The only divinity we truly trust now is the silence of the deep.”

The rugged Islander lifted his chin, staring defiantly at the native leaders of The Burning Steps. “We are deeply grateful for the Hearthtribe's rescue. But let me be perfectly clear: we are interested in a home, not a new cult. If the price of this bountiful water and islands is that we are forced to kneel at your altars and worship your Moon Goddess, then we Islanders will take our chances and rebuild in the ‘dying shallows’ of Pelagos.”

The tension in the conference room spiked instantly. The native Earth Troll and Wind Elf bristled at the Islander's blunt disrespect toward Sati, and a low, rumbling growl echoed from Ur'Rena's throat.

“Peace,” Sati's voice rang out.

It wasn't a shout, but her aura flared–a physical wave of absolute, disciplined warmth that washed over the physical room. The soothing spirituality couldn't reach the holograms across the cosmos, but it instantly quelled the rising anger of the natives standing around her, easing their hackles. She remained seated mid-air, meeting the Islander's hardened gaze through the projection with a compassionate smile.

“The Hearthtribe does not deal in forced conversions,” Sati said gently, yet with the unquestionable authority of a prospective Divine. “Faith that is demanded is not faith at all; it is simply another form of chains. You are welcome to our world and to our waters as free people. If you never speak a prayer to me, the sun and moon will still warm your shores. That is my promise to you.”

Jake stepped up beside her, nodding. “Our Accord Divines earn their devotion through protective actions and resonance, not coercion. You keep your freedom to choose, though we do have favored choices we would present to you. Beyond that, we just need to share the world reasonably–I’m sure with effort, we can find some common ground. That’s all that we will ask of you, and you can expect the same from the other leaders and people you’ll be sharing your future home with. They’ve all agreed on the same thing among themselves, with Hearthtribe’s guidance and mediation.”

The Islander let out a slow, raspy breath, the defensive tension visibly draining from his shoulders. He exchanged a long look with the Vellari woman, who bowed her head deeply to Sati, moved by the grace of a deity who refused to demand their worship. Perhaps, on some level, the Islander may have liked to hear that Hearthtribe was running the show and mediating any conflicts among them. With how the elders all relaxed a bit further at the mention too, Jake thought he was right in that read.

It was then that Elder Oram pulled himself up to the edge of his humidified stone basin. His wide, golden eyes didn't just lock onto the holograms but swept across the room to meet the gazes of the Wind Elf and the Earth Troll.

“High Prelate. Elder Morak,” Oram rasped, his voice echoing with the weight of the deep ocean. “You fought a bloody war for this peace, yes. Who wouldn’t guard our earned harmony through fierce struggle? But do not confuse peace with wholeness. Look at our world. The earth is scarred, the winds are harsh, and our deep waters... they have been dry, empty for centuries.”

Oram shifted his perceptive gaze back to the Vellari woman and the Islander. “Before the Great Well boiled dry, we Anurans shared the waters with a people very much like you. We survived the apocalypse because we could burrow in the mud. They could not, leading to their tragic extinction. When the oceans died, The Burning Steps lost a piece of its soul. I believe that an empty fortress is just a tomb.”

The Anuran elder puffed his throat-sac, his voice taking on a solemn tone. “Elder Lethyrian spoke truth. Hearthtribe has another ocean they could use to solve our issues. But a beast world's waters will not heal the spiritual wound of this planet. We do not just need water; we need a people to fill the deep. If you bring no gods, then bring your resilience. Bring your silence. Our leylines will welcome it, and on behalf of the Anurans, we would be honored if your people swam in the shadows of our ancestors.”

Oram pulled himself up higher on the edge of his basin, looking directly at the Wind Elf and the Earth Troll. “I am but a mud-dweller. I cannot speak for the high winds or the deep earth. But I ask you both, as my brothers in this new peace: Do we let our fear of the past keep our world a dry or even a wet tomb? Or do we invite the tides and the spirit that inhabits them?”

The conference room fell completely quiet. The poetic, tragic justice of the Anuran’s plea hung heavy in the air.

High Prelate Lethyrian closed his eyes. When he opened them, the cold, protective breeze in his demeanor had entirely vanished, replaced by a deep, acknowledging respect. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly toward the projection.

“Elder Oram speaks with the wisdom of the depths,” Lethyrian said softly. “Forgive my harsh winds. We were nearly broken by invaders, and we let our fear build walls. But you are not invaders. You are survivors, like us. I speak for the skies of this world. You will find no chains here.”

Elder Morak grunted, slamming his heavy stone fist against his chest piece in a booming salute. “The mud-dweller is right. The earth needs the rain. You bring your people, Islanders and Vellari, and my shamans make sure there’s solid bedrock beneath your atolls. You have the welcome of the deep earth.”

Elder Rashik stepped forward, leaning lightly on his keystone staff. The wizened fire-goblin bowed his head in deep, solemn respect toward the holograms.

“And the fire has burned too hot for too long,” Rashik added, his voice soft. “It was the unchecked fury of our ancestors' flames that boiled the Great Well dry and stole your counterparts from the deep. We have learned from the Moon Goddess that a true flame is meant to warm a home or be a fuel for passion, not consume it. We welcome your tides to cool our shores. Bring your silence, and we will ensure our fires never threaten your depths again.”

The Vellari woman covered her mouth, a single, shimmering tear escaping to float in the phantom current of her tentacles.

Beside her, the Islander stared at the native leaders. His rigid, 'brass tacks' posture entirely crumbled. He had walked into this negotiation expecting a tyrannical guild demanding tribute or a desperate transaction of resources. Instead, he was being offered brotherhood from a world just as scarred as his own. He then gave a look at the Vellari woman, and she gave him an eager nod.

“We accept,” the Islander said firmly, his raspy voice thick with emotion as he nodded to Oram, Lethyrian, Morak, and finally to Jake. “Pelagos is yours to move. We’re coming to our new home.”

“We will begin the final preparations,” Jake said, a genuine, relieved smile touching his face as he bowed his head slightly. They spoke for a short time about the timeframe and expectations about the process until Blood cut the feed, and the holograms faded out.

The native leaders immediately began to converse excitedly among themselves, the friction of the past completely dissolving into a unified sense of purpose.

But as Jake looked at the now-empty projection table, his smile faded. His expression sobered into hard, mathematical reality.

He had the water, he had the people, and he had the arrays. But to safely filter the merger, seat the moon, and prevent the cosmic gravity from tearing the world's delicate balance apart, there was a massive Framework toll. Jake and Valtor had run the numbers a dozen times. To force the integration with pure Conquest Points and resources would utterly gut their treasury.

It wouldn't bankrupt the guild, but it would completely drain the massive fund he had carefully stockpiled for Avalara’s upcoming bond–Sati’s was well under control and largely underway.

To make Avalara wait wasn’t just a problem of will or patience, but they could miss their window–perhaps, even for a whole decade.

For this to truly work–for the alliance to hold without crippling his own family's advancement–they needed a flawless, low to mid-Tier 3, Epic to Legendary rarity Water Core to act as the celestial keystone to subsidize the cost.

And the last place to get one just might be waiting for them at the bottom of a dungeon.

Jake looked up, meeting his wives’ eyes. They didn't need to speak to know the pressure was on. The Raid Point store would get restocked between visits, but the larger pool of items was quite random. The odds of them getting to purchase just what they required were low–they were zero for three already, after all. There were a few suboptimal items that had appeared, but they were not convinced they could refine them into what they required.

They had instead gotten most of their amazing items from the final bosses. The cold plant on Bramvalen had yielded those Primordial Amber Nodes chock-full of life force, since the boss hadn’t managed to eat any–in addition to the monster’s special frozen core, as well as several seedlings.

Tanda was already nurturing a few seeds in her hearth vines, which would actually grant her additional capabilities and summons to use beyond the spriggons. Of course, she would carefully nurture and make sure that the creature...wasn’t so violent–to those they cared about.

Then the Luminous Lich and the radiant guardian’s bones were bursting with the opposing energy, an unholy death mana contained within with a heavy spirituality. It even had a fractured core. Reconstructed and purified into holy death, it would be a perfect counterbalance to life, and excellent for Avalara’s merger. There were some lesser death treasures in the previous bosses, all of which would likely help with their planetary arrays for Highlands.

Just what would be within the Dungeon Raid of The Burning Steps? It was with those thoughts that they made their final preparations for the Dungeon Raid. Having everything aligned now, they would trigger it and fight to rescue it from Tartarus’s grasp.