While Surtremon’s mission had been accepted without question by the three new Elites, reality is never so straightforward, particularly when cross-nation politics is involved. Correspondence, permissions, accommodation, transport; there were still several weeks until the three were permitted to enter the Spokes.

And time, as it so often does, progressed without slowing nor care. In many aspects the three returned to the lives they had left behind; simple soldiers doing their duties for their nation. In others, they found themselves in new, unfamiliar and steeply challenging situations; the three Commanders training them in the ways of leadership.

And yet for all three of them, it felt like mere padding. A brief respite before their true test was to begin.

And so, the day came. And as per usual, everything went wrong right at the key moment.

“What do you mean, they can’t travel via the direct line from Grid Central? Are they on strike?”

The Mekanorimon beeped sheepishly, tapping their broad slabs of forefingers together. “There is currently disturbance on the direct line. It appears to be a blockage at the Spokes central district receptacle. They’ve not managed to send the explanation through yet. We apologise for this delay.”

Bombardimon huffed in response, scuttling backwards and tapping impatiently against the ground. “Bloody typical. We make all these plans in advance and then they can’t even be bothered to clear the way for us.”

He turned, beckoning Santelmon over with a nod of his head. “Can you contact them at least? Tell them to clear all the leaves off the line?”

“ I’ve been trying to do that for the last hour.”

Bombardimon scowled, folding his forearms and letting off little grumpy explosions. His comrade-in-arms, in a show of support, ignored his outburst, and instead rolled over to the three Elites as they stood quietly at the entrance to Grid Central.

“This is genuinely out of our hands. It appears there’s been another anarchist attack which has taken out the southern entrance to the main district. The Spokes were keen to postpone this visit. Again.”

“Figures,” muttered Mollumon, folding his tentacles. “They allowed all this mess to happen and now they suddenly and mysteriously have infrastructure issues?”

“A valid point, if a little blunt in the wording.”Santelmon stretched out, his flames blurring slightly. “I did make that same point, and they have agreed to make other arrangements. The western gate is still clear, so you can enter from that direction. They’ve given me their word that it’s safe from the rebels.”

“The west terminal?”

Bombardimon’s gravelly voice erupted again, his irritation at the situation clear. “That’s hundreds of miles north of here; Northern Tribes territory. Are they mad?”

Serpemon raised a hand. “Yeeeah...in fairness, I’m supple as all hell but I’m gonna have trouble wading through snow for days on end. Same for the big man there, I’d reckon.”

“Hey!”

The snake stuck his tongue out, but Santelmon raised a pillar before an argument could break out. “It’s the best we can do. And we can help you get up there quicker.”

As if on cue, there came a whistling sound, and the three Elites turned to see Fornaxmon, guiding a large, shaggy dog-like creature towards the terminal; eight-legged, with a helmet and goggles, and a large platform nested into its fluffy back. Serpemon shuffled forwards, slithering around the canine with a discerning eye.

“Got to be grateful for a rail replacement service, I suppose.”

“Arf,” replied the Komondomon, only too happy to oblige.

Mollumon reached out, pulling the serpent back. “It’s not as fast, but it’s something. As the resident ‘big man’, I’ll take what we can get.”

Fornaxmon shrugged his shoulders. “Komondomon are fast. Not rail fast, but it should only take you an extra day to get to the western terminals. Think of it like the scenic route.”

Coremon stepped forwards, and placed a gentle palm on the front flank of the living vehicle. He leant forwards, saying nothing. Serpemon glanced in his direction, but didn’t intervene, instead rubbing his hands together.

“Well then...I suppose it’s time.”

There wasn’t much else to prepare, with the three Elites already well versed for their ambassadorial duties. They stood together by the ladder beside their new mount, who was pressed flat against the ground, panting heavily against the mugginess of the terrain. Coremon wished he could feel as in the moment as the much larger Digimon, but his entire being felt part-empty, like a nervous pit in the centre of his chest. He pulled his hooded cloak further around himself – heat-sealing, for comfort against the icy winds of the Northern Tribes – and reached inside the front breast, clutching at Muspelmon’s brooch.

There came the sound of footsteps, and the three stood to attention as Surtremon approached. He got down onto one knee, his eyes glancing over them in turn.

“I apologise for the mess this morning. I hope there will be no further interruptions to your trip up there at least.”

Mollumon gave a salute. “We’ll deal with it as it comes, General. We intend to see this through, no matter what.”

Serpemon and Coremon nodded in agreement, their faces firm. Surtremon stared down, his orange eyes blazing against the grey skies above.

“You’ve been given an opportunity. Remember, you are representatives of the Fire Kingdom. You may see and hear things that go against what you believe in, but stay calm, and professional. And if you find something of interest, don’t hesitate to send contact. I’ll help in any way I can.”

He straightened up, his horns glinting against the sunlight as he raised a palm.

“And one more thing. You all know one another better than I ever could. All I ask is that you take care of one another. I want to see all three of you make it back here; safe, and alive. Can you swear that?”

Mollumon raised a hand in salute. Serpemon nodded. Coremon hardened his expression, not meeting the general’s gaze.

There was nothing else to say. The three boarded, and with a heavy panting, the Komondomon shuffled around on the spot, and began to slide across the rough ground, away from the gates to the Infernal Fortress. Coremon turned around, watching as the great Fire General got to his feet, watching the three of them go.

The murk of the fortress began to close in, leaving only the glow of Surtremon’s silhouette visible.

And soon, that too was out of sight.

Fleet-footed and swift as the wind, the Komondomon rocketed across the grey plains, gaining speed all the time as the heat from the Infernal Fortress began to subside. The three Elites sat atop the platform above it, keeping their heads down against the increasing winds.

Well, two of them did at least.

“I’m king of the world!”

Coremon glanced up at Serpemon, arms outstretched atop the great dome of Komondomon’s head, grinning into the oncoming wind.

After a count of three, the snake rolled back onto the platform, blowing raspberries as he tried to eject the accumulated dust and debris from his teeth. There was a shuffling from one side of the platform, as Mollumon rolled away a section of parchment.

“How’s the view up there?”

“No clue. Just dust in my eyes. Can I borrow a tentacle?”

“Absolutely not.”

The serpent snorted, and shuffled up next to Coremon, borrowing the edge of his cloak instead. Coremon didn’t react, curling up even further as he tapped nervously onto the slatted wood below him.

Serpemon leant over, bunching his tail up within his arms. “This your first time out this far?”

Coremon puffed out his cheeks. “It’s my first time out of the Fire Kingdom, really. At least as much as I can remember.”

The conversation fell silent for a bit, only the whipping winds providing any sound, along with Mollumon’s occasional rustling of folders. Eventually the manticore turned back to his colleague. “You used to travel a bit, didn’t you?”

“Me? I’ve been all over the continent. Met several fun and important people. Then Karatenmon died and I decided to settle.” He leant back, placing his arms behind his head. “Who’s to say how much things have changed in the Spokes since I was last there?”

There came a scoffing sound, as Mollumon peered up over the rim of his barrel. “You really expect anything to change in a useful manner with them? It’s a monarchy; it’s dead in its tracks.”

“Now now, no need for that, Wiggles.”

Coremon folded his arms beside him. “I’m with Mollumon on this. The Sovereignty seem to be causing nothing but problems for their own nation and for everyone else.”

Serpemon frowned, scanning the sky as he leant back. “That does give me pause for thought, you know?”

“You mean whether it’s one of the royals themselves who’s behind all this?”

“Not so much,” muttered Serpemon, and he flicked his tongue out in front of him. “We don’t work like that; we’re part of an autonomous militarised entity ourselves.”

“It works fine, doesn’t it?”

“Sure thing. But then why is it called the Fire Kingdom? We don’t have a king.”

Coremon raised a finger. Then lowered it again, curling it over as he pressed his lips together.

“......huh.”

“Yeah.”

The manticore placed his hand to his chin. “Maybe...the person who came up with the name didn’t know what they were talking about?”

“Seems like a big oversight.”

Mollumon poked his head up again, curling one tentacle in front of him. “It actually did used to be a kingdom, you know. The last Fire King was deposed a few centuries ago; the place has only run on military procedures since then.”

Serpemon rolled his eyes in the octopus’s direction, with an expression of both boredom and incredulity. Mollumon decided to take no notice of it, opting instead to flick the tip of his beak with the end of one tentacle in an ‘I know more than you, neener neener’ gesture. Serpemon descended further against the rail, his arms spread out wide.

“You are such a terminal degree of nerd.”

Mollumon puffed his cheeks out, rolling up more of the parchments beside him and sticking them inside his storage pack. “At least I’m trying to keep us on track. Somehow I doubt we’re going to get very far with the Sovereignty if all we have at our disposal is quips and rhymes.”

“Hey now, I’m good at quips and rhymes.”

Mollumon snorted. “Maybe we’ll sell you off to them. You can be court jester and then feed us back all the useful information.”

“Hey! What did I do?”

Mollumon pulled his body in further, shielding his extremities from the cold wind. “All I’m saying is, we need take this mission more seriously than we think. It could go very wrong for a lot of people if we don’t.”

His eyes bored into Serpemon’s, intensely enough to cause the snake to glance away. He pulled his hands together in front of him, picking at the ends of his gloves.

“I am being serious. Trust me on that.” He scratched at the hard leather, leaving little indents. “I’m just anxious, is all.”

Coremon looked up at him. “You? Nervous?”

“Believe it or not, even the Great Negotiator has his vices.”

Serpemon grinned half-heartedly, before staring out across the passing horizon. “I don’t know what we’re gonna come across either. I’m just trying to get my head in the game.”

He didn’t look back, not even as Mollumon packed the rest of his reading away and shuffled ever closer to the two. The octopus tried to catch Coremon’s eye, but the manticore was distant as well, staring at the same grey horizon. There were the beginnings of a chill to the air as it whipped past, and there were white lines on the border between earth and sky; the edges of the tundras where the tribes and ice families made their home.

And something else building, as Coremon pointed out.

“Guys, there’s a dust storm coming our way.”

Serpemon and Mollumon leant forwards, watching as the swirling clouds began to clump together, reaching out in swells towards the lone Komondomon. Coremon gripped the edge of the rail.

“We’d better get below for a bit.”

As smooth as the Komondomon’s ride was when they were above, it was even more stunningly calm inside. The three sat in the odd little moving chamber, feeling only the merest rustling from beneath them, and a faint whistle from outside. Only the darkness was any clue as to the severity of the storm they were passing through; great swathes of dust rushing past the windows, leaving only little blotches and patches of lights in a periodic manner.

They said very little, just waiting for them to be through the storm. Mollumon had given up trying to work through his parchments, so he sat tucked into his barrel on one side, occasionally glancing over at the other two when there was sufficient light to do so. Serpemon was hunched over, his hands clasped in front of him and his thumbs twirling around one another, with his green globe one of the few sources of light in the blacked-out cabin. Coremon was tucked away even more, his tail wrapped around his legs and his shoulders hunched.

Smooth, the ride may have been. But after a time it was hard not to feel the claustrophobia, and the feeling that they were getting really very far from the safety of the fortress.

The light slowly returned to the chamber, the patches on the windows opening up little by little. And as they did so, the colour changed once again. Less the grey and yellow of the fortress grounds, and now more tinged with a bright white. Coremon turned around, placing a paw against the interior of the window as he stared across the lines of the horizon.

Presently, there was a jolt, hard enough to cause the three Rookies to shift to one side. Serpemon reared up on his tail, and knocked against one wall.

“You doing okay out there?”

“ ...arf.”

Coremon gave a worried frown. “That was a long time he was dragging us through that storm. Perhaps we should just check on him.”

They exited, climbing up the cyborg’s internal steps onto the platform above. The first thing that hit them was the cold; an immediate biting chill on contact with the outside air. Mollumon gulped, and retracted, wrapping his hidden tentacles tightly around himself as he shimmied down onto the ground below.

Coremon followed after him, his eyes full of wonder as he stared around. Serpemon was absolutely right; he never had set foot outside the fortress grounds, and the environment around him was naturally stunning. The grey and red of the rocks were now patched with white and silver, catching the light from the sun as it hung low in the purple sky. There were barely any features around, allowing him to see for what seemed like miles – or at least, he would have been able to were it not for the towering structures of cloud and snow, walking across the horizon like fairytale giants, their presence leaving glistening footsteps.

Coremon whistled, the sheer scale and beauty of the southern edge of the Tribes bringing him back into the moment, if only just temporarily. Serpemon slithered up behind him, his hands on his hips as he reacted slightly more pragmatically to the whole affair.

“Where the heck are we, anyway?”

Coremon sat back, his ears twitching cheekily. “I thought you were the one among us most well-versed in travel.”

Serpemon gave him a look, before pointing over his shoulder. “And I thought he was the one with the maps. A good day to get disappointed, I reckon.”

“Excuse you.”

Mollumon barged past the snake with a huff, before rolling out a cylinder in front of them, revealing several scratchy diagrams all over it. He ran the tip of one tentacle over the contour, before pressing on a little cluster of dots.

“We’re on the edge of the tundra, just where the outposts and smaller tribe families tend to bundle. Looking like another day to day-and-a-half before we reach the terminal.”

Serpemon squinted. “How do you know we’re not in one of the other bits of dots, genius?”

“You’re the observant one. Look on the horizon.”

Serpemon turned, raising a hand above his eyes as he stared out. Coremon followed his gaze, scanning across the towering snowfields. It was faint, and hard to make out, but in between the shifting storms there were the faint outlines of black and silver – the pillars of one of the Spokes rail terminals, one of many reaching out into all corners of the continent.

Mollumon rolled up the map once again, giving a smug side-eye to the snake. “Face it explorers; you’d be nowhere without me.”

“Are we gonna try and break it today?” asked Coremon, his eyes drifting sideways to the Komondomon. “He...looks like he’s had a bit of a rough trip.”

Indeed, the giant dog looked a bit like he’d taken a round trip inside a hoover bag, with the thick, fluffy coat now embedded with clarts of grey-brown dust. He raised a paw, and batted morosely at his nose, whining gently.

Mollumon turned up his beak, shuffling around the great canine and looking him over. “Don’t go soft on him. They’re remarkably hardy, these things. A little jog through the snow and he’ll be good as new.”

Komondomon’s head turned towards him, with a look of disdain nearly matching the octopus’s own. Without warning it stood up, and with a great ripple and a shake, swung its entire clotted coat back and forth with a guttural FBLKFLBFOFBLGHKLFBFGH.

Coremon and Serpemon noticed in time, shuffling backwards rapidly as clumps of dust fell down all around them. Mollumon was less reactive, able to do little more than stare as he took a tidal wave of grub right in the face. It knocked him backwards, sending him skittering around on the side of his barrel.

Presently Komondomon stopped, and sat down, still looking very grey but muck perkier having jettisoned a cargo’s worth of dust. He shook his head out, and sniffed triumphantly.

“Arf.”

Achingly slowly, Mollumon got to his feet, holding his tentacles out alongside him as they drooped with grey muck. He blinked, his ear flaps twitching as he let out a series of gargled noises from his beak.

“ Phflelcgfh!”

He threw his tentacles down, releasing clumps of the stuff as he looked to his colleagues for moral support, only to be predictably disappointed by the sight of both of them laughing their heads off.

“God...it’s claggy...” Mollumon snorted, and pointed an accusatory tentacle at Komondomon. “That was UNCALLED FOR!”

Komondomon grinned cheekily, settling down in his own little nest of dust and chaos. Coremon finally composed himself enough to bound forwards, brushing up against the canine’s chest.

“We have been going a long way today. We probably could have a short break here while everyone...um...sorts themselves out.”

“Ooh!” yelled Serpemon, sticking his head into the conversation as he rubbed his hands. “Do you think we could visit one of the tribes round here?”

Coremon’s eyes lit up. “Are there any round here?”

“I think that would be an extraordinarily bad idea. We’re on a mission right now,” remarked Mollumon in a blunt fashion. “And besides...”

He reached down, waving the clattered remnants of the map at the other two, but they were already scanning the horizon looking for signs of habitation. Much like the distant silhouette of the Spokes, there were the occasional smaller structures dotted around; spiky and jagged, a far cry from the blocky world they were used to.

Serpemon grinned, pointing at a nearby crag of rock. “There’s buildings behind there, I’m sure of it. We’re not far away; we can always just pop in for a wander.”

Mollumon gurgled in an irritated fashion. “We’re residents from another nation. We can’t just walk into someone else’s home.”

Coremon looked conflicted, but Serpemon just waved the comment away. “Sure we can. They don’t have any walls.”

Mollumon held the edge of his beak. “Dear Yggdrasil...how have you not started any wars yet...”

“Race you, Coremon!”

“Don’t get cocky!”

Mollumon opened his eyes to see his colleagues already sprinting across the ragged tundra towards the crags, gaining distance by the second.

“ Hey, wait you idiots!”

The octopus glanced behind him, glaring at the settled Komondomon, before making a frustrated squawking sound and setting off after the other two as fast as his tentacles could drag him.

As the three approached the corner of the rocks, the structures curled out from behind them, looking all the more straggly and spiky the closer they got. Mollumon was already falling behind, getting more out of breath than his colleagues while also trying to remove the rest of the clag from his own tentacles.

Then a wave of something hit him, and he felt his skin contract. He sped up, holding out a tentacle as his voice deepened.

“Guys, stop there!”

He rolled forwards, quickly catching up with the two. They too had come to a halt, digging into the cold silt beneath them. Serpemon was holding his arm out in front of Coremon, preventing him from moving any further on. Not that Coremon was moving anywhere yet; he stood with his arms splayed in front of him, unable to stop his fur from bristling.

“I’m guessing you both feel that as well.”

Mollumon swallowed, staring ahead at the spines; clearer now, and looking more dishevelled than ever. They all did; attuned as they were to the atmosphere of the digital world. It was a hard feeling to describe; the presence of an intense power like static up the back. Or an incredible malice, crawling into the chest.

“Something’s wrong here.”

Serpemon looked over his shoulder. “Should we go back?”

Mollumon glanced back and forth, wanting to agree but something stopping him. Coremon reached up, bending Serpemon’s arm down and out of his way.

“We can’t. We’re supposed to be ambassadors now. If...there’s something wrong here, at the very least we need to help.”

Serpemon placed his hands on his hips. “I think this place might be deserted. There’s nobody to help.”

“Then at the very least we need to know why.”

Coremon swallowed, and began to walk forwards again, edging at a steady pace towards the swaying structure. Mollumon and Serpemon followed after him, the three remaining together this time. The air seemed colder here, signs of one of the great blizzards from the horizon starting to head in their direction. And yet there was a faint crackling sound from the village, along with an eerie humming as the wind echoed through something.

They reached the gates in a few minutes, peering around as they did so. The dust was thicker here, lying in pale grey piles against the wooden archway, itself marred with black and white.

At least, it seemed like dust at first glance, the same that had followed them from the Fire Kingdom. But at a closer look, it was something finer and more powdery, and to the three Elites, who had grown up in an environment surrounded by a particular atmosphere, it was instantly recognisable.

Serpemon reached out, running a finger gently over the top of one pile, and coming away with a chalk-like marking on his glove.

“It’s all ashes.”

They were ashes. A pale grey sheet, stretched out in between the broken structures, whipping back and forth in little waves as the winds picked it up.

Gently, the three headed further into the village – or at least, what must have once been a village. Simpler fare than the brick kilns and barracks they were used to; there were nonetheless signs of permanent lodging. Rings of icy stone, some studded with gems of bright blue. A tilted tower in the centre, with perhaps the remnants of a ballista or catapult. And closer still, there were signs of more detail. Scraps of cloth. Iron caskets. Pieces of mural and artwork hanging from the skeletal houses.

Signs of absolutely everything, except for even a single life.

Coremon shivered as he stepped forwards, and reared back all of a sudden, his hand disappearing into a pile of ash. He pulled it back, and gently brushed it aside, revealing the twisted metal of a crown. His hand went up, feeling the brooch underneath his cloak.

“What...happened here?” Mollumon shuffled up next to him, gently poking through some of the larger piles with a bent pike. “This must be one of the southerly outposts. The large families place them along the border of the tundra to stake a claim.”

“Did they abandon it? Perhaps some feral Digimon out here, or could it have been a storm or a natural disaster or something?”

The octopus shook his head. “Nothing natural caused this. You can feel it too, right?”

Coremon pulled his lips in, the clutching feeling still aching in his chest. But there was something else too, something very wrong that he was only now just noticing.

“I know what I can’t feel.”

Mollumon slowly turned to him, seeing the manticore’s bright blue eyes staring at him.

“It’s not cold.”

As he moved, something bristled up his back; a sting of pain or heat that made him jump. He and Mollumon turned on a whisper, staring into the deserted grounds. But there was still nothing. No movement save for the winds pulling at the top of the ash.

Coremon frowned, noticing the pile in front of them seemed to be remarkably whiter than the others. In fact, as he edged even closer, he thought he could see the top of the surface shimmering, like a mirage on a hot day.

“Hey...give that a little poke, would you?”

His companion gave him a side-eye at the request of being the resident guinea-pig, but he obliged nonetheless, reaching out with the end of the pike and gently brushing the top of the white ash.

The surface spat, and Mollumon recoiled as the pike juddered in his hands. He pulled it closer, staring at the end, which had suddenly been twisted and peppered, the white powder eating into the very stone.

“Never-ending embers...” Mollumon grimaced. “Some of this place must still be burning.”

“Do...do we know anyone who has the ability to do this?”

“Not for as long as I’ve been a soldier.” Mollumon straightened up, and discarded the pike on the dust aside him. “But then again...none of us have been here for very long.”

“Guys! Come here!”

Serpemon’s cry rang out with the wind, and the other two Elites rushed back, following the ringing even as the ashes blew every which way. They reached him behind a stone structure, studded with twisted wood that might have been ceremonial or functional, but now lay in a spider’s web of splinters.

The snake was crouched over behind it, one hand against his mouth. Coremon reached him first, peering around his hip and looking in the same direction.

And he saw.

The ashes here were paler than the rest, again letting off the same haze of heat. They lay in patches, splayed out against scorched earth, surrounding a single body. Long-limbed and long-tailed, splayed out against the ground, with naught but rags and rag-like skin fluttering in the wind. It was practically greyscale, and near featureless, with the head a mess of pitted dead flesh. But were the proportions not enough, it still clung tightly onto a solid, dull hunting knife, with notches taken out of the blade.

“I...think I found our assassin...”

Coremon couldn’t answer. He just stared at the horrific image before him, taking in every detail. There was a deep intake of breath from behind him, as Mollumon peered at the body too.

“I mean...we were told that she was executed...”

Serpemon shook his head. “This wasn’t an execution. This was a downright slaughter.” He twitched. “I mean...not to say she doesn’t deserve it but still-“

“Don’t even say that.”

Coremon pushed the words out quicker than he intended, before drawing back, padding nervously at the dust beneath him.

“This...this is wrong. If she’s dead she should be long dissipated; what even is this? What did all of this?”

He turned back to the others, his eyes wide and alarmed. The wind blew up again, worming its way through the skeletal structures and buffeting the three. Mollumon turned back, watching the body jostle ever so slightly, the rags fluttering in the breeze. A section of her arm cracked, and crumbled inwards on itself, the body completely empty of everything, save for that same burning ash.

“Somehow, I don’t think she’s going to be here for much longer.”

He looked over his shoulder, and pointed into the distance, where the towering spire of snow was looking remarkably closer; close enough, in fact, for the three to hear sounds of creaking and ethereal calls from deep within the cloud. Serpemon grimaced.

“If we’re not careful, we won’t be either. If that thing catches us then this village won’t be the only thing buried out here.”

Coremon reached up, biting the end of one finger as he looked around him. Then he straightened himself, his tail coiling.

“Shall we go?”

“Wait just a minute. Mollumon?”

The octopus nodded, and reached out again, deftly flicking the corpse around her decaying hand, until he managed to jostle the hunting knife away from her grip. The three Elites pulled back as it clattered in front of them, lightly dotted with ash, but the only thing still in one piece from the lemur’s form. Serpemon reached down, gingerly touched it, before holding it straight against his body.

“Now we can go.”

“Agreed.”

And the three Elites rushed away from the village as fast as they could manage, with the dull roar of the blizzard still calling for them in the middle distance.

The winds picked up further, reaching the village long before the blizzard did. They pulled the ashes back and forth, embers mixing and melding, and coagulating against the remaining structures, eating them down further. And in the midst of it all, the remnants of Sifamon’s body finally gave way, swept up in the ash field and leaving no further trace.

The snowstorm was picking up pace by the time the three had gotten back to Komondomon, with the large dog currently flattened out against the ground, and looking even more put out than ever. The three Rookies boarded, but with the winds now howling in all directions and the effects of the dust still not entirely recovered from, they decided it would be foolish to try and pursue anything further now.

So the Komondomon lay flat, his fluff billowing back and forth as he made himself as small an object as possible, while the three sat inside, with nothing but one another, and their own thoughts.

And they had a lot of thoughts.

“Guess they weren’t kidding when they said she’d been executed.”

Coremon pulled his shoulders in further, his tail coiling and uncoiling reflexively. Serpemon grimaced, looking at the hunting knife lying flat in the corner of the chamber.

“Sorry. Bad taste, I guess.”

“The whole thing’s been bad taste since it began,” mumbled Mollumon, leaning back against one wall. “Although if you want my honest opinion, it seems like an odd decision to execute someone way out in the sticks.”

“Unless they did it on the journey home?”

“But this isn’t the journey home.” Mollumon glanced up. “This is the long way round, remember? If all was going to plan then we’d already be on the rail network there. You really think they trudged through the Northern Tribes like us?”

“There’s something you’re both forgetting,” Coremon piped up, and his ears twitched as his companions turned to him. “They’re the ones who made a big thing about Sifamon being a Spokes citizen and that they needed to deal with her. You don’t make a fuss like that and then dump her in a dead village somewhere.”

Serpemon placed a thumb to his lips, his eyes glowing slightly in the murk.

“Not unless you’re trying to sever all your ties with her. And then silence her.”

Coremon stood up, holding a hand tentatively up to his chest. “So we’re in agreement then? There’s some conspiracy going on in the Sovereignty and we need to find out what it is?”

“It’s too early to say, Coremon.”

Mollumon’s blunt response caused the manticore to sit back, glaring sideways. The octopus just folded his tentacles.

“We don’t know anything. Anything about them, anything about the Spokes, anything about the village really other than it burned. We have no right to accuse anyone nor a case to support it.”

“Why are you still holding back on this?!”

Coremon turned on the octopus, his lip curling up in a snarl and his arms flaring up. “We lost an elder because of this! Because of them! Someone has to pay for that!”

“And if we’re not careful then it’s going to be one of us! Or even all of us!”

Mollumon’s response was harsh, and biting, stopping Coremon’s rage in its tracks. The two pulled apart, simmering gently as Serpemon puffed his cheeks out.

“I feel your pain, Coremon, but Wiggles has a point. We’ve only got a single opportunity here to find out the truth. We can’t afford to blow it.”

Coremon sent an acerbic look in the serpent’s direction, before turning around, facing away from both his companions.

“What if someone else dies to this? What about then? How many times can we let someone get away with evil before we can finally afford to step forwards and do something?”

“You really wanna throw hands with a royal in front of all their buddies?”

The manticore smirked. “Let me at’em. I’ll take them all on. I know all the right places to bite.”

Mollumon rolled his eyes. “You two are utter liabilities, you know that?”

“Well, someone has to keep you on your toes. It’s healthy.”

“If anything in this line of work was healthy then I wouldn’t be spending every morning doing breathing exercises.”

The octopus stood up, and contorted himself, his coils twisting back and forth with little elastic stretching sounds.

“My mind is an asset and it’s a little fried right now, so I’m going to retire. I’d suggest you two do something similar. We need fresh heads if we’re going to be doing any actual investigative work.”

There was little response; an incredulous look from Serpemon, and the turned-back of Coremon, still not looking his way. Mollumon waddled up to him, gently tapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey, I’m on your side. I’m working on it. Trust me.”

Coremon remained tense for a second. Then he went slack, and turned around, looking up into the octopus’s half-closed eyes.

“I do trust you. I just...don’t know if you – or any of us – are gonna be enough.”

“I thought it was your job to hype us all up.”

Coremon scowled, baring his teeth slightly. But the octopus smiled, as reassuringly as he was able to.

“Look on the positive side; we know for sure is that there’ssomething hidden out there. Big, small, long-running or spontaneous; whatever it is, someone’s got some secrets. And that means that somewhere out there is the truth. That is an unmistakeable fact.”

He reached out, tapping gently against the manticore’s forehead, causing Coremon to scowl further.

“And that means that as long as we’re still here, we have something new to uncover. It’s all leading to something. And we’re a part of that. We’ve been trusted to be a part of that.”

Coremon blinked, his eyes a vivid blue in the murk. There came a little hissing sound from the corner.

“Wiggles, you are the worst at motivational speeches, you know that?”

“Bite me, noodle-boy.”

Komondomon’s thick fur may have been taking a wild battering from the elements, but it did have the advantage of muffling out the howling gales and blasting snow. While Coremon’s head was still spinning from the discoveries of the day, the dull humming was at least low-key enough for him to drift in and out of unconsciousness for a little while. Visions danced across the back of his eyelids, imagining shadowed creatures, and falling titans, and the world around him crumbling into white ash.

Then he found himself opening his eyes, sleep deciding once again to completely elude him. He curled up further, pulling the cloak further around him, but even in his secluded space the cold was sleeping in, and he was wary of the night visions edging around just at the edge of his mind.

After a small drift in and out of lucidity, he realised he couldn’t hear the fury of the storm anymore. And as he concentrated further, he could feel the gentle rumbling beneath him of eight legs paddling furiously away. Komondomon was on the move.

Coremon sat up, looking around the dim chamber with his eyes glowing faintly. There was a barrel leant up against one corner, with the gentle bubbles bobbing out from inside being the only sign of Mollumon. But Serpemon was nowhere to be seen.

The manticore worked his way to the base of the neck, and clambered up the ladder onto the platform at the top. The icy air hit him immediately, more so than before, and he wrapped the cloak further around himself, the hard metal of the brooch pressing further against his chest. But he had found his other companion, lounging against one wall of the platform above, with his head nestled in one curling palm. Serpemon’s frill flicked suddenly, and he turned around, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Come to join me?”

Coremon gently padded over to Serpemon, and reared up, folding his arms against the rim of Komondomon’s platform. Serpemon leant forwards again, a dreamlike expression on his face.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it…”

It was hard to disagree. With the dust storms far behind them and the snowy pillars taking lazy steps in the far horizon now, the landscape had changed dramatically. Now an entire patchwork of silver snow and black rock, with the clusters of life dotted sparsely across the panorama; tiny villages, larger towns, and further still the grand fortresses where the major families of the Northern Tribes resided. Directly ahead, Coremon could see the triple spires of the Silver Citadel, the magnificent structure reaching up towards the sky.

And what a sky it was, unladen by the dust and the clouds and the smog which he was used to. Streaks of purple and gold across a deep blue – almost black backdrop, so clear-cut that he could see the faint criss-cross pattern of the digital mainframe as it blinked in and out of existence. The light from the early morning sun reached out across the patchwork landscape, sunbeams like fingertips caressing the glittering snow. And further to their right, the great rails and pillars of the Spokes terminals, glinting and shining with an ethereal polish, and getting closer by the minute.

Serpemon stole a glance sideways, taking a moment to enjoy the look of wonder on Coremon’s face. “Enjoying yourself there?”

“It’s...beautiful…”

“It sure is.”

Serpemon leant forwards, burying his mouth in his gloves as the sunlight glinted over his scales. Coremon curled up, flushing a little as he did so.

“Do you...miss it at all?”

“Miss what?”

“Coming out here, seeing the world, being a part of all this…” The manticore bit his lip. “It must get oppressive for you being shut up in our little corner of the world all day.”

Serpemon sighed. “It’s a good thing to appreciate just how small you are in this world. So many wonders. So many lives. You’ll never lose anything by opening your eyes wide.”

He turned around, shimmying down the wall of the platform, as Coremon sat cross-legged beside him. The snake ran a finger around the slats beneath him.

“I don’t regret it though. If Karatenmon – if my mentor were still around, maybe I’d feel differently. But being part of the Fire Forces has given me a new perspective again. It’s all very well appreciating the wonder of the world, but the world is made up of the lives that inhabit it. I don’t want to deny them my care.”

Coremon smirked. “You don’t deny them even one stray thought that crosses your mind.”

“Do you really wanna bet on that? You have no idea what sick, twisted games run through my noggin on a daily basis.”

“Okay, maybe keep your fantasies to yourself.” Coremon grinned, and gently elbowed his companion, who playfully returned the gesture. The manticore stared ahead. “You wouldn’t be here though if you didn’t want the best for the people you meet. You’re the most personable guy I know.”

Serpemon didn’t answer immediately. Coremon watched as his head bowed down, the smile on his face seeming strained. He opened his mouth a couple of times, his tongue flicking in and out nervously.

“It...doesn’t come easily to me, you know. I know how to get people to like me, and I know how to get people to do things. I sometimes wish I could feel it as naturally as you do, but it’s...I...feel very apart from it, sometimes.”

He turned sideways, his eyes wide and vulnerable.

“I feel like I should be grieving more for Muspelmon. I owe you that much. But I don’t have any tears for him, no matter how much I wait for them.”

He felt a paw over the top of his glove, the leather blocking Coremon’s touch, save for the gentle pressure. The manticore smiled.

“He’d be proud of you too, you know. The fact that you’re here with us shows where your heart lies.” The smallest Rookie straightened up. “I trust you as much as Mollumon, and both of you more than anyone else I know.”

Serpemon stared at him for a little bit; the sunlight illuminating the bright face. Then he closed his eyes.

“Be careful who you trust, man. But I’ll try my hardest to do right by you.”

He reached out a fist, and Coremon did the same, the two planting them together in a pressing motion. Then they sat back, watching as the rail terminals loomed into view, their brief foray through the Northern Tribes now nearing its end.

The three felt the presence of the rails before they’d even fully reached them; a shift in the atmosphere and even the temperature, as the metal itself seemed to emanate an exothermic warmth, giving it a rippling appearance.

And nothing could have prepared the three Elites for just how huge the pillars were. For something so thin and spindly in the distance, the structure itself was like the base of a pylon, over six metres in diameter and towering into the sky. With the rails themselves stretching for miles in each direction, it was easy to see how much of a name the Spokes themselves carried. A wonder of the world, and they were only at the outer points of them.

The three dismounted, walking up to the very base of the pillar, as the snow gave way to plain black rock, glistening with meltwater. The Komondomon padded in the snow behind them, circling around into a little nest. He seemed barely out of breath from the whole ordeal. Well, it had only been a journey of a couple of days, though it had felt a good deal longer. Mollumon reached back, knocking a tentacle against the giant’s soft fur.

“You did well, old boy. Thank you for the trip.”

Komondomon seemed elated by the gruff octopus’s blessing, and responded in kind; a great, slobbering lick all up the Rookie’s barrel. Mollumon grimaced, the best smile he could manage as he found himself yet again flicking gack away from the end of his tentacles.

“I am...so privileged.”

Coremon and Serpemon meanwhile were walking along the wall of the tower before them, running hands along the smooth metal. Coremon pressed his lips out.

“It’s, uh...quite something to look at.”

“A wonder of the world, surely.”

“So how do we get in?”

Serpemon leant back, wiggling his eyebrows as he ran a finger around a small indent in the side. “Kid, when you’re out on your own, you need to be able to figure these things out.”

“Please stand by. A steward will be in your attendance at the nearest opportunity.”

The words were clear in the trio’s mind, though they didn’t seem to be spoken out loud from anywhere; more a ringing in the air as the metallic surface shimmered. Komondomon whined, bundling his ears closer into his arms. Coremon gave him a reassuring smile, though he himself felt there was something deeply out of place about the whole structure.

The tower shimmered; blue to purple to white, in a display lasting several minutes. Mollumon had joined them by this point, his tentacles folded as he watched the beautiful colours.

“Nothing like service, is there.”

“ Your journey is important to us. Please stand by.”

The three jumped as the entire base of the tower bowed in in a rippling motion, before stretching out into a vaguely humanoid silhouette. It melded out from the metal itself, for a brief second only resembling an amorphous blob. Then it began to stabilise, liquid turning to solid, and details becoming refined, and the steward stood before them.

He was an odd looking creature; slightly shorter than Mollumon with a child-like proportion, though the colours shimmering across the metallic surface of his skin belied a deep and explosive power. He had flat, paddle-like feet and oversized fingers, with holes cut out like from pewter castings. His torso was squat and rotund, again with the same holes revealing internal bowed ribs and a bright silver heart, and his head was round and goggle-eyed, with two curving horns forming a clamp above his head, under which was held a diamond-shaped cloth cap.

The steward ran an eye over the three Elites, before whistling in a chipper manner.

“You don’t look much like the locals. Am I to assume you are the three Fire Kingdom visitors I’ve been informed about?”

Serpemon raised a hand in salute. “Yo. That be us.”

The snake received a jab in the ribs from Mollumon and a terse whisper about professional presentation, but the steward didn’t seem to pay it much heed, instead descending in a roly-poly bow.

“Please and thank you for your patience and bearing with our technical difficulties. We have a large area to cover and the terminals require our full attention. I would have met you down south if there weren’t the blockade business.”

He peered up, and his face curved upwards into an alien smiling motion.

“My name is Caesiumon. I hope I can be useful to you on your trip.”

“Thank you kindly.” Coremon nodded in acknowledgement, before looking up at the tower. “This is...rather a new one for me. Do we need to give you instructions or-”

“Oh no no nope.”Caesiumon fluttered his hands back and forth. “Your journey is preselected and configured for. All you need to do is remain with me to avoid any misdirection or major injury.” He reached behind his head, scratching nervously. “As protocol, I just need to ensure you’re not carrying any items or armaments or potentially problematic implements that may cause distress within the central districts.”

Mollumon raised an eyebrow. “We’re soldiers. It’s kind of...natural to us to be problematic.”

“Of course, of course, I understand. But you know what I mean. Devices can get very small and unassuming in these troubled times.”Caesiumon held his hands behind his back. “ Please.”

The Elites obliged; Coremon removed his cloak, holding his arms wide. He felt Caesiumon’s hand run around the edge of Muspelmon’s brooch, the steward giving it a discerning eye. But it was only for a moment, and the metal man smiled and moved on towards the tallest Rookie. Mollumon held his tentacles in, flushing a distinctly deeper shade of purple as he side-eyed his companions.

“...turn please…”

Serpemon snickered to himself, but Coremon pulled him to one side, the two keeping their eyes closed and trying not to think about the rubbery squeaking sounds beside them. Then it was over, and Caesiumon moved towards Serpemon. The snake inverted his gloves and shook out his tail orb, before shrugging nonchalantly.

“I believe that’s all in order, good sir.”

“ Of course, of course. And the knife?”

“Knife? I don’t carry a...oh...right.”

The snake began to visibly sweat as Coremon and Mollumon slowly turned their heads towards him, eyeing Sifamon’s hunting implement he currently had strapped over his back.

“...I’d forgotten about that one…”

Caesiumon scratched his cheek. “I feel like the Sovereignty may class that as potentially problematic. I may have to confiscate it.”

“Only confiscate?”

“You may have it returned when I send you back to the Fire Kingdom or wherever your next destination is.” Caesiumon’s tone was as chipper as ever, but his words were firm as he handed his palm out. “ If you please.”

Serpemon puffed his cheeks out, but had no choice to oblige, holding the implement out towards the little metal man. Caesiumon whistled as he held it in his hands, scanned it, before placing it against the metal of the pillar, where it promptly sunk into the surface and vanished out of the Elites’ sight.

Coremon couldn’t help but feel a little robbed, but Caesiumon seemed not to even register it, tapping against the pillar.

“That all seems to be fine now. If you’d like to follow me into the elevator and we’ll get you moving.”

As he spoke, the metallic surface rippled again, and opened up into a round portal; only just about large enough for the three of them. There were no features inside; only the dark chrome where it was reflecting itself.

Gingerly the Elites stepped forwards, with Coremon bringing up the rear. He nodded at Komondomon, who watched after them, panting gently.

“Thank you for your help in getting us here. Please carry on home when you can.”

The giant dog turned his head, a slight whine coming from his throat. Coremon couldn’t help but relate; the Digimon had been the closest thing they’d had to an ally for several days now. The three of them were now entering somewhere completely closed off, with every reason to believe that someone had it out for them. Even Caesiumon, as personable as he was, felt like an unknown.

From now on, they really only had each other.

Coremon raised a hand, before stepping forwards, feeling the gentle hum of the metal shell around him. He took one last look out over the horizon; the white sheets and great storms, and somewhere out there an ash-laden village which he was sure would never be found again.

Then there was a ringing sound, and the aperture closed up, and he was left in darkness.