JUDICATOR JANE 6 - CHAPTER 54

Making the Best of It

Stepping out through the small bank door, Jane emerged into the cool night air. The stars shimmered overhead, clear and bright above the vast half-domed walls. In her hand, she clutched a small pouch of gold coins—a parting withdrawal she’d made on instinct, barely aware she’d even done it.

Outside, everyone was waiting.

Gral’gor stood tall and silent. Balostroze loomed beside him, flanked by Veralaktus, Crakkis, Ixcaralith, Tia’moth, and the others. Dyle, Boli, Yin—all of them. Every soul who had followed her this far. Every one of them looking to her for guidance. For the path forward.

Dyle saw her first and hurried forward, eyes wide with concern. “Jane! Are you alright? You were gone so long—I was… I mean, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Jane blinked, surprised, then nodded stiffly. “I… I’m fine.”

Balostroze stepped forward next, his voice steady and commanding. “Mistress, have we secured passage to the east? Shall I begin marshalling the horde? Or have we come upon another enemy first in need of facing the crushing might of your dominion?”

Around him, the demons leaned in, listening—waiting. Eyes gleamed in the light of the moon. Expectation hung heavy in the air. This was why they had come south, this was the reason they had left the valley and battled through the treacherous Mandalas.

“Passage?” Jane echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked from face to face—Gral’gor’s solemn stillness. Balostroze’s trusting gaze. Veralaktus’s cool poise. Dyle’s quiet worry. And the unseen eyes of countless others, just waiting for her to confirm their success.

They’re counting on me.

Her throat tightened. “I…” Her breath caught. 

No. I—I can’t.

In that moment, there wasn’t a force in heaven or on earth that could make her say the words:

I failed.

It didn’t work.

I was wrong.

Tears welled in her eyes. She snapped them shut. Her whole body trembled. The walls were closing in. There was no escape. And so she panicked. With a flash, she triggered The Drawn Veil. Launching into the sky—soaring into the night, fleeing the expectant eyes and crushing weight of responsibility.

Above the dome, beyond the rock ceiling, the open sky met her with welcome arms. Stars swept past as she cut through the clouds, the wind tearing at her dress. She flew faster, higher, through the cold, endless dark.

And she cried.

Harder than she ever had before. Her shoulders shook, her breath hitched with sobs, and still she flew, the wind ripping the sound from her throat.

I couldn’t do it, Mom.

I tried so hard. I really tried.

But it wasn’t enough.

If there was an answer, it didn’t come. Or maybe it did—but it was lost, swallowed by the howling wind and the sound of her own breaking heart. Leading the demons to freedom and safety, stopping Pogg, reuniting the horde—she wanted it all. But wanting wasn’t enough. Every step forward came at a cost, and she had already spent too much. Her hopes, her dreams. Every light she lit was met with a hundred gales trying to snuff it out.

It felt hopeless. It was hopeless.

She had been gone too long. Pogg had already destroyed the demons back in Arcadia. She knew it—deep down. The pragmatic truth was too bitter to swallow, too plain to deny. And yet… unless she saw the corpses with her own eyes, saw the ruin and the silence for herself, she couldn’t let it go. Even in the face of what she had just learned.

She couldn’t let go of that one fragile thread. Not yet. 

Eventually, amidst the clouds and the stars above, the tears did stop.

Sniffling into the wind, Jane drew several slow, steady breaths, pulling herself back together piece by piece. She wiped her eyes with the back of one hand, blinking away the last of the blur. High above the world, floating in the cool night air, she looked out toward the mountains. They rose jagged and dark against the moonlit horizon, carving bold silhouettes into the sky.

Despite everything, it was undeniably beautiful.

Okay, Jane. Where did you fly yourself off to this time?

Glancing downward, she spotted a winding river flanked by scattered groves of trees—and lights. A village. Small, from the look of it. Just a cluster of buildings tucked into a clearing. Jane drifted lower, touching down on the outskirts, and let The Drawn Veil dissipate. Color returned to the world around her, and the soft crunch of her shoes met the earth.

She found a dirt road leading inward and followed it into town. A forge stood to her left, dark and silent. Another building nearby had barrels stacked outside, some only half-assembled. Still no people. It was blissfully quiet.

Farther in, she saw it—a lodge-like structure glowing with warm light. A wooden sign swung lazily on its hinges above the door: Pike’s Rut. The carving of a leaping fish crowned the name.

Jane gave a tired shrug, then stepped inside.

Warmth embraced her at once. A fire crackled in the hearth. The scent of woodsmoke and freshly baked bread lingered in the air. A lone barkeep stood behind the counter, polishing a glass. Only a couple tables were occupied.

“Welcome, miss,” he called out. “Sit wherever you like.”

Jane nodded and settled at a spot near the fire. She dropped into the chair, resting her arms on the worn wood of the table and lay her head down, staring into the fire.

What am I going to do now…?

“Can I get you anything, miss?” came a cheerful female voice.

Without looking up, Jane muttered, “You probably don’t have any milk, do you?”

There was a pause. “Oh, no, we don’t…” Then a playful shift in tone. “Is what I’d normally say. Buuut—you’re in luck! Farmer Camdil dropped some off this afternoon.”

Jane let out a weak breath of a laugh. “Lucky me. One, please.”

Her thoughts drifted. If she took the Dirthian tunnels, she’d be abandoning half her demons—demons who relied on her, who had followed her across entire worlds. Leaving them behind in unfamiliar lands, in a place they didn’t understand. But if she stayed… Pogg could be mere moments away from crushing Eli’va, Vexmor, Serous—countless others who were waiting for her return. Veralaktus told her they undoubtedly knew she was back. Are they just barely holding on? Has Pogg pushed them back to the tower itself? Or into… the desert?
The thought twisted in her gut. It was an impossible choice.

A soft clink on the table broke the silence.

“Here you go. Enjoy.”

Jane slowly lifted her head. A perky young woman with her hair wrapped into a tight bun smiled down at her.

“Thanks,” Jane murmured.

The server glanced toward the back. Seeing the bartender disappear into the kitchen, she slid into the seat across from Jane.

“Say, you’re not from around here, are you?”

Jane took a sip of the milk. “Nope.”

The woman leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “That’s a pretty fancy dress you’ve got on. And you’re high-level… real high-level.” She grinned. “Bet you wouldn’t believe it, but I used to be part of the upper class myself.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yup.” She nodded sagely. “Hard to imagine, I know. Long story short—my brother disgraced our family. We fled to my uncle’s estate on the coast. Doesn’t matter where, you wouldn’t know it. Anyway, one day I go for a swim, just off the shore, and bam! Slavers haul me out of the water and straight across the Green Sea. That was the end of my noble days.”

Jane narrowed her eyes slightly. “Are you from… Arcadia?”

Without waiting for a reply, she triggered Piercing Gaze.

Mera Diamondfield (Level 9)

Human

Class: Poet (Uncommon)

Strength: 5

Agility: 6

Constitution: 6

Intelligence: 15

Luck: 9

Health: 60/60

Fun Fact:

Mera is the kind of girl who just kind of gets swept where the tide goes. Lucky for her, her eggs usually land sunny side up—even if they are being flipped as a result of demonic debauchery. So here she is, halfway around the world and still with a smile on her face like she just discovered it was Tuesday at the taco shop. 

“Oh, you’ve heard of it?” she laughed, surprised. “That’s rare enough around these parts. Well—yes. I am from Arcadia.” She spread her arms wide, as if presenting herself to an invisible audience. “Destined for a life of slavery, or so I thought. But fate’s funny, isn’t it? I was rescued!” She sighed dreamily, resting her cheek on her hand, eyes glinting. “He was so dreamy. Just like in the stories. ‘This way. Don’t make a sound,’” she mimicked, lowering her voice to a breathy baritone.

“I thought it was over for me. No way back across the Green Sea of course—not with the Traders all gone. Probably looked a lot like you do right now. Oops! Don’t mean to be rude.” She giggled, then leaned back. “But I had to make a choice. I could mope and cry about the past… or try and make something of the mess.”

With a proud little huff, she placed her hands on her hips. “And here I am. Mera Diamondfield, proud serving girl of Pike’s Rut! Would you believe it? I’m happier now than I ever was back home. No courtly manners, no protocol. Just life, raw and simple.” She blushed, glancing toward the door. “And there’s a young man at the sawmill—Randam. I think he might fancy me.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Of course, he’s no mysterious warrior with black hair and eyes like steel, but… don’t tell him I said that.”

Jane smiled, genuinely this time. “I won’t. You’ve got my word.”

“Mera, are you harassing the customers again?” a voice called from the back.

“Oops!” Mera jumped to her feet. “Sorry, sir!” Then she turned, flashing Jane a last grin. “Whatever’s got you down, just remember—you can always make the best of it. It can’t all be bad, right?”

Jane nodded. “Thank you… Mera.”

With a playful skip, Mera darted behind the counter and disappeared into the kitchen. The tavern keeper shook his head with a faint smile, clearly used to her antics.

Make the best of it, huh?

Jane rolled the last of the milk around in her tankard, then knocked it back. She reached into her coin pouch and drew a single gold piece, spinning it between her fingers, the weight anchoring her to the moment.

Then, slowly, deliberately, she began piecing together a plan.

***

Dyle paced restlessly, his eyes scanning the sky. Jane had been gone all night, and now the morning sun was cresting the domed rim of the Dirthian plaza.

“Where are you, Jane?” he muttered, fingers fidgeting with the hilts at his hips.

Melindra approached quietly, her expression gentler than usual. “Patience,” she said. “Jane’s been under enormous pressure for a very long time. And now, the path ahead… is more complicated than she expected. She needs time to gather her thoughts.”

Dyle let out a long breath. “Right. I know. But if the tunnels can’t fit the whole horde, then it has to be split. There’s no other option. Pogg is the real threat, not these Mandalas or dragonkin. Arcadia needs her. Those who can fit will take the tunnels. The rest…” He hesitated. “They’ll just have to make do.”

Melindra offered a faint, forced smile. “Perhaps. But… it’s not quite that simple.”

“Oh? It seems pretty simple to me.” Dyle’s gaze sharpened. “What did you see, Melindra? What happened down there?”

Melindra turned away, her voice quiet. “All choices have consequences, Dyle. You should know that better than anyone. Don’t think I’m unfamiliar with your history. I know all too well about Lord Tygal’s dagger in the night.”

Dyle’s face flushed. “That was a long time ago. I’m not that man anymore.”

“No?” Melindra stepped closer. “But the deeds he’s done—they don’t just vanish. Like echoes in a canyon, they linger. They twist lives, tip destinies. You may have turned your back on the past, Dyle, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still following you.”

He looked away with a shrug. “I’m prepared to answer for my actions, if it comes to that.”

“I wonder…” Melindra murmured.

“You know, I don’t think you’re much different than—”

He never finished. His head yanked upward, drawn by something beyond words. Above them, a figure soared across the sky, wings outstretched and lit in gold by the rising sun.

“Jane…” he whispered.

***

Descending from the sky, Jane landed softly in the central plaza, The Drawn Veil flickering away as her feet touched stone. As before, all eyes turned to her. This time, she was ready. Fortified with resolve. She met Melindra’s gaze and gave a faint nod, her expression resolute.

“Everyone, gather around. I have an announcement,” she called, her voice carrying across the square.

A ring slowly formed, her most powerful demons pushing to the front. Dyle stood nearby, concern etched across his face. Jane avoided his eyes. Boli and Yin had joined the gathering as well—two humans looking almost absurdly small among the towering demons. She even saw the two dragonkin, Nyxor and Fascia peeking over from a distance.

When the plaza had settled into a hush, Jane took a long breath, closing her eyes for a moment before speaking.

“There’s been a change of plans. The tunnels beneath the Green Sea—” she paused, then continued, “—they’re too small for the larger demons. Hellguards can fit, and anyone smaller than a Tormentor, but no one bigger than that.”

A low murmur swept through the crowd.

“So, we're just going to have to… make the best of it. Here's the plan. We’re splitting the horde in two. I’ll lead those who can fit through the tunnels. Gral’gor, Veralaktus—you’ll be with me.”

She turned to the Dread Piercer. “Balostroze, you have a new mission, one that is equally important. The humans on the continent of Kaldara are enslaved by the dragonkin. That must end. I want every human freed, and every Mandala that harbored slavery brought under my control.”

Next, she faced the Infiltrators. “Crakkis, you and the others could come with me—but I need you here. Whatever you were doing to disrupt the northern Mandalas, I want it amped up to eleven. Show me what you can really do.”

Her eyes moved on to the red-robed sorceress.

“Melindra… I need you to stay. The demons don’t understand the nuance of this world. I can’t leave them directionless and I need someone I trust. You’ll have final say in what happens here, and as a Velnatari yourself, I don’t imagine there will be any issues.”

Melindra nodded without hesitation. “Of course. I expected as much.”

She turned to Dyle, jaw clenched, eyes steeled. “Dyle. I… I need you to stay. With Melindra.”

“What? No! I’m coming with you.”

Jane shook her head. “No. She’s going to need help. This… this will be an extensive campaign stretching across the entire continent. I know she’s capable—but she can’t manage it alone.”

“Hold on, you need someone to watch your back! Especially in Arcadia. There are threats there you haven’t even— I can’t lose you again—”

Gral’gor stepped forward, arms folded like granite slabs. “While I yet draw breath, no harm will come to Jane King.”

Dyle gritted his teeth. “Even still—just think for a—”

“You can’t come, Dyle!” Jane snapped.

Silence followed.

Her breath came fast. She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. After a long moment, she opened them again, voice softer now. “I’m sorry. Look… remember what I told you? About freeing the slaves?”

She lifted both hands, wriggling her thumbs and forcing a smile.

“If I don’t finish that stupid quest, I’m going to lose these suckers forever. Time is ticking, and I’m counting on you to help me get it done. I need you here—with Melindra and the others. Please.”

Dyle turned away, hands on his hips, shaking his head slowly. “Right. Your thumbs. Of course.” He exhaled, the fight draining from him. “Very well. If… if that’s truly what’s needed.”

Jane closed her eyes again, just briefly—then felt a gentle squeeze on her arm.

“Keep going,” Melindra whispered. “You’re almost there.”

Nodding, Jane faced the two humans.

“Boli. Yin. I know things have been… insane to say the least. You probably don’t understand half of what’s happening. But I remember why you joined us—to help free the enslaved. That mission hasn’t changed. In fact, now it’s more urgent than ever. We’re not just freeing one group—we’re freeing all of them. Will you help the demons finish what we started?”

Boli glanced at Yin, then stepped forward, face reddening. “Well… I don’t know if this counts as an official quest, but Boli the Thunder Hammer has never turned down the chance to help the helpless. I stand with you, Jane King.”

Beside him, Yin offered a silent bow.

“Thank you, everyone. We’re… we’re going to get through this. I’m going to go kick Pogg’s butt, then I’ll be back. Count on it.” Jane swept her gaze across the crowd. “Everything I’ve said is just the high-level overview—we’ve got a lot of planning to do, both above ground and with the Dirthians below. If we want this to work, we need to account for all the variables. So let’s not waste any time.”

On that note, the crowd began to disperse, murmuring amongst themselves. Jane stepped back, drawing in a few deep, steady breaths. She turned around, facing the large doors.

It was a brutal truth she had faced—her dream of uniting the demon horde, all together as one, was nothing more than a fantasy. It couldn't be done.

There was no other way back to Arcadia except the Dirthian tunnels—not one that was clear to her, at least. And with the critch infestation, Pogg’s growing army, and who knew what else waiting ahead, she was going to need all the backup she could bring with her.

As for the others who stayed behind—they had to do something. They had to live somewhere. And carving out a place from the festering Mandalas seemed as good a start as any.

She kept her back to the crowd, arms crossed. Even without turning she could feel Dyle’s eyes on her back like a blade pressing tight.

He can’t know. Not yet. Not about the critch.

A critch specifically tailored to kill her. If Dyle knew, he’d follow her. No words would stop him. With his Vanish skill, she wouldn’t even realize it until it was too late.

And after seeing what he went through for her in the vision of the Great Woods... she couldn’t let that happen. I can’t let him throw his life away. Not again. Not with what was waiting in those tunnels.

Her memory flashed with High Councilor Horgold’s voice, low and grim:

“There was one other critch we discovered,” the High Councilor added. “Not as… pervasive as the one before you, but still a formidable new variation to contend with. This type is just as deadly. Nearly the complete opposite of the other. Rather than trap its prey, it kills outright. Can’t run from it. Can’t hide from it. Kill, or be killed… or so we’ve been informed.” He signaled to the dwarves below. “Go on, bring out the other one…”

Jane exhaled slowly and opened her logs—though she didn’t need to. That entry was etched into her memory, burned so deeply she could see it behind her eyelids.

Dyle Destroyer Corpse (Level 132)

There had been a price for their journey through the Great Woods, and now the debt had come due.

The Menadeen, Serous, Myra—they’d all slain their share of critch during the escape. But none had come close to the sheer number she had been responsible for. Not even remotely. And Dyle… Dyle had been beside her the whole time. By proximity alone, he’d reaped the rewards. The experience. The levels. And now, the consequences.

She clenched her jaw, shaking her head.

No. Dyle can’t come. And he can’t know.

There was real danger waiting in those Dirthian tunnels, and it wasn’t the cramped corridors or the fact it stretched all the way under the Green Sea—it was the critch. Not just any critch. Ones designed to kill them both. Designed and shaped by the System itself to counteract their perceived strengths, built to exploit their weaknesses.

If Dyle stepped one foot into that dark, infested passage… he was as good as dead.

***

Mera yawned and blinked sleep from her eyes as golden morning light poured through the tavern windows. Dorn stood by the shutters, having just thrown them open, letting in the fresh scent of dew and woodsmoke from the neighboring smithy.

“Morning,” he called, a teasing grin on his face. “Stayed up all night for her, did you?”

Straightening with a wince, Mera glanced around the empty tavern. The mysterious woman was gone. “Yeah… figured she could use the company. I think she just about drank all the milk we had!”

Dorn chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t suppose you remembered to collect her bill, did you?”

“I remembered!” Mera said, standing indignantly—then paused, cheeks warming. “Or… I think I did? Didn’t I?”

Her eyes landed on the table. In the center, catching the morning sun like a beacon, sat a single gold coin.

“Jumpin’ jackrabbits! She left a whole gold coin!” Mera snatched it up, examining it with awe. “Been a while since I’ve seen one of these…” But her expression shifted. “Huh. That’s odd.”

Dorn raised an eyebrow. “What, figure you’ve seen plenty of gold in your old life.”

“It’s not that,” Mera said, squinting at the coin. “Just… here, look for yourself.”

She tossed it underhand across the room. Dorn caught it easily and turned it in the light, his brow furrowing as he examined the face. A low whistle escaped his lips. “Is that… her?”

Mera shrugged, uncertain. “Couldn’t be. But it sure looks like it.”

“Strange,” Dorn muttered, still staring at the coin.

“Maybe she collects them!” Mera offered with a grin. “If I found a coin with my face on it, I’d keep it too!”

Dorn tucked the coin into his pocket with a sigh. “But she didn’t keep it, did she? Well, never mind that. Go on, take a bath and get some real rest. You can come back this evening.”

Mera’s face lit up. “Really?!”

“Go on,” Dorn said with a chuckle, waving her away. “And don’t linger too long at the sawmill on your way home.”

Beaming, Mera skipped out of the tavern, the strange woman—and her curious coin—already fading from her thoughts.

THE STORY CONTINUES IN JUDICATOR JANE BOOK 7