Cold gazes and hushed tones stalked my every step through the grand hall where kings were gods.
Knights stood rigorously along either side of the chamber, each one faceless beneath polished helms. Thin slits betrayed eyes burning with partially restrained hostility. Hands lingered over a plethora of weapons – spears, flails, and blades – awaiting only a single command. Watchful archers shifted among the cacophonious balconies above like phantoms in the night. Arrows and bolts trained to hit their mark.
Every soul stood ready to die for their king.
At the base of the throne, Solomon remained motionless. His butcher cleaver was buried deep within the marble meant to withstand any attack. His towering frame remained unmoved as he oversaw the departure of the last nobles. A rumbling roar yellowed from his throat, signaling for the knights to depart. Each one moved without hesitation.
Unbeknownst to him, I had already claimed each shadow present.
Excitement made my fingers twitch faintly at my side. He'll be a troublesome foe… The old daemon was always more of an obstacle than man, after all.
The heavy groan of the great doors echoed throughout the hall as they shut behind the last departing knight. Clouded silence followed – thick and suffocating.
Then came his voice. "It is good to see you finally return home, Einor."
I lifted my gaze toward the throne where my uncle sat draped in regal stillness, every inch the image of a deity. Time had done little to dull the sharpness of his features. If anything, the years had only deepened the weight of his domineering presence.
A faint smile touched his lips. "Tell me," he continued, "how is Joan these days? Haven't heard from her since she left the order."
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. "Skip your falsified pleasantries." The words left my mouth sharper than any blade. "Tell me why the sudden interest in finding me after all these years."
After a prolonged silence, a quiet sigh escaped him. "Very well."
His fingers drummed – a nervous tick or sorts – once against the armrest before stilling.
"I'll begin by saying King Udreth and I have been in deep discussion for several years after his return to the throne regarding an alliance between our kingdoms."
My brow furrowed. Interesting. Compromising national secrets to an outsider, eh?
"Such discussions have led to the discoveries of similar anomalies occurring." A scroll materialized in my uncle's opened hand. "We fear that the tides of war are once again rising."
Hmm…
His expression hardened, and for the first time I caught a flaw beneath his rehearsed composure. Concern dampened his eyes.
"Once prosperous villages now lie in ruin," he said grimly. "Homes reduced to stained ash. Corpses left where they fell. Men, women… children slain without remorse."
His knuckles whitened against the throne's armrest. "Some faced a swift death. While most faced demented acts of torture."
The chamber grew colder.
I studied the faces of everyone before stopping on uncle. Was this genuine concern? An act? Or simply another mask worn by the man who once condemned me?
"Those similarities," a softer voice interjected, "were not the only reason an alliance was sought."
The little fox stepped forward, Luca and Casteilla watching diligently behind. Gone was the quiet defiance she had shown before. Her eyes – once bright with challenge – now carried an overbearing darkness I knew all too well.
The look of someone who had been broken in spirit, and mind.
"Breura faces an internal power struggle for the throne." The room was silent. "Rumors of a coup d'etat fill our ears. Attempts have been made, and assailants choosing death th–
"Skip the drawn-out tale," I scoffed to the dissatisfaction of everyone.
Solomon's claw snapped shut at my ill-advised tone.
I cleaned my left ear out. "I care little for whatever negotiations kingdoms prostitute themselves out for."
The old daemon's gaze became murderous. "Watch your tongue in His Majesty's presence." His growl rumbled low through the chamber. "I will not tolerate such insolence from Lord Zachariah's–"
"It is alright, old friend." My uncle raised a calming hand. "He may speak as he pleases."
I was thrown off guard. What are you really playing at, old man? Why not simply send Solomon to strike me down?
My uncle leaned forward, resting his chin against folded hands. "Einor… this matter runs deeper than mere politics," his voice carried immeasurable weight.
"At first, we believed these attacks to be isolated power grabs. Opportunists clawing for influence. Or bandits making a name for themselves."
His eyes darkened. "But we were wrong."
The little fox's ears pinned low against her head. Though she carried herself with well-practiced dignity, the tension in her hands betrayed her unease.
"During an attempt on his life, my father managed to capture one of the perpetrators before they could flee." Her voice remained steady, though only barely. "The testimony gathered from the prisoner led us to their hideout where our fears were confirmed."
She hesitated for only a breath. "The coup had a further reach than we thought. High officials of the court have banded together to overthrow my father. One contributor was Count Jannik Udreth."
The chamber fell still. Even Solomon's towering frame seemed to stiffen slightly.
My uncle folded his hands together until knuckles were pure white. "King Udreth sought us out for help thanks to our history with Sluaghdyr. And I have decided to accept his terms."
"To strengthen and better the relationship between our kingdoms," he paused, "King Udreth accepted my invitation to the upcoming festival despite the dangers."
The little fox's gaze lowered. "Father believes this alliance will benefit both kingdoms. So I volunteered to come in his stead while he handled other matters."
There was suffocating weight behind those words. She was a daughter stepping willingly into danger for her kingdom. Or she was simply another pawn caught in political games.
"Though it pains me," she reached into her cloak and carefully withdrew a folded parchment. "My uncle's testimony, received shortly after we arrived yesterday. It details his part in the coup de'tat, and further instructions."
I took the parchment. The page cracked softly beneath my fingers as my eyes skimmed its contents. Most of it was political drivel - whose better than who, which one held more power. I grew sick of reading bloated titles. It was nothing but overexplained formalities of the wealthy. Enough hollow decorum to make me question whether scribes were paid by the word, and added extra freely.
Though, I will admit, one section amused me to the point a chuckle had to be stifled. A beautifully detailed account of the nightmares he faced inside Penumbra. The endless cycle of death and rebirth he endured. His unending visions of the daemon clothed in shadows slaughtering his men. The scribe captured every ounce of his torment perfectly.
Wonder what you did to him.
My amusement faded the moment my eyes dwelled on a single name – The Eyes of Khokbus.
A cold weight, not my own, settled in my chest.
Fragments of old records dating back to long dead kingdoms stirred within my memory. Dust-ridden tomes hidden deep within forgotten architecture. Pages so worn that they threatened to crumble at the slightest touch. All recounted the forefather of necromancy.
Khokbus, the name sucked the very life from me. One of the few remaining Primordials. Brother to Vilra – The Lady of Secrets – and Erebus – The All-Consuming Shadow. Of the trio, Khokbus was named the ruler of death itself. Very few dared whisper his name.
Even fewer sought his favor.
My fingers tightened slightly around the parchment. That answers one question. But why me? What role do I play in this? No, there's more to this than he's letting on.
I folded the parchment slowly before slipping it in my cloak.
"You have no shortage of capable knights." My gaze drifted to the Steelbound Wardens positioned just out the doorway. "And if the stories I've heard about your capable knight commander are true, then you already possess someone highly capable of ridding the world of this cult."
Solomon's jaw tightened, eyes burning. "This is no place for your insolence, boy."
I ignored his hostility. "If this concerns affairs with Breura, then send the little fox home with an army in hand and be done with it."
My uncle finally rose from the throne. "We require more than simple force," his golden eyes fixed on mine. "We require someone of your talents. Someone we've all heard rumors of."
The mere heft behind his words made my words get caught in my mouth.
"You will escort Lady Udreth safely home." His tone sharpened. "And you'll create a gateway between our kingdoms once there."
There it was. The true purpose behind this scheme.
I laughed softly. "No."
Silence followed my blatant disregard for a king's authority.
"I have no intention of being a dog, and serving either kingdom." I turned toward the chamber doors. "My true objective remains unchanged, old man."
I pointed at my uncle. "One day, I will kill you."
A ripple passed through the chamber. Everyone staggered forward under the weight alone. Yet uncle remained unmoved.
Then–
"What if I offered my full support? A title, money, and women."
My steps halted. Slowly, I turned back toward him – crimson aether building.
"Support? Me?" I hid my face, bitterness curled at my lips. "You speak as though I ever had yours to begin with."
I took a slow step forward.
"I survived that hell and the world outside it for twelve years without your help." My voice hardened, "What makes you believe I need it now?"
For the first time since entering the chamber, his expression darkened.
"If reasoning fails…" golden aether slowly began to form around him. "Then you force my hand."
A dangerous silence settled over the chamber clad in clashing golden crimson aether. Then my uncle descended the steps leading to the throne. Each measured footfall echoed throughout the hall as if judgement was already passed.
"I've learned many things as king," he snickered. "One thing is that if one's loyalty cannot be bought," the words flowing smoothly, "then perhaps it can be compelled."
The surrounding shadows stirred faintly to the sudden twisting in my gut.
His eyes never left mine. "As we speak, a detachment of royal knights rides toward SwallowTail."
My breath caught in my chest, realizing his intentions. No! No! NO!
"They carry orders to seize your companions. Especially that blood mage I've heard about."
I felt marble crumble beneath my boots from the pressure being emitted.
My uncle continued his threat. "Should you continue refusing–"
Shadows erupted outward – my anger uncontrollable. "YOU BASTARD!!!"
Darkness swallowed the chamber completely. Flaring torches extinguished with one touch. The Hunting Grounds of Penumbra had answered my call. Crimson eyes split open throughout the void like fresh cuts. Shrieking whispers hummed through the darkness from every direction at once.
"Momma!! Daddy!! I'm scared!!" Lilliana's voice could be barely heard.
I palmed my face while unhinged laughter escaped my lips. He threatened them. After everything. After all these damn years. He dares threaten the only home I had left.
Solomon moved first, protecting uncle from the force. Afterward, his figure disappeared.
He then suddenly appeared before me – cleaver raised.
Steel collided with steel. The impact thundered through my body. Using the force, I slid backwards before dissolving into the shadows. A frowned tactic. Yet one I've grown accustomed to.
I lunged from the darkness at immeasurable speed, the tip of Tartarus closing in on the back of Solomon's nape. A clean kill. Quick and painless. For someone I had once adored.
Fangs struck from the side, piercing my forearm. Shadows engulfing me once more before my head left my shoulders.
Too slow…
Solomon's speed was evenly weighed by his bulk. So was the potency of the venom carried by his serpent tail.
DAMN!!! My arm burned. Veins bulged beneath the skin.
Ignoring the pain, I shaped four figures in my likeness and sent them on the attack. While the copies kept each pair of eyes occupied, I slowly reformed behind Solomon and lunged for a small gap beneath his ribs–
BOOM.
I jumped back and readied Tartarus. Rubble remained where I once stood.
"Calm yourself, brother."
Veronica stood valiantly in front of Solomon, Lovic in hand. "We do not want bloodshed."
"No bloodshed?!" My throat numbed from laughter.
"Tell that to the children I killed in that godsforsaken arena. To the ones barely old enough to wield a weapon. Those who begged for mercy. Those who screamed under the nine-tailed cat."
The shadows deepened with the stability of my mind.
A brigade of showy knights clawed themselves free, one after another. Hollow gazes roamed the chamber. Ebony weapons clashed against obsidian shields in a harmonious thrum. Hooves and boots alike stormed the marble floor, charging toward my enemies.
I connected to each one through telepathy. No harm is to come to the young girl.
Solomon roared as waves of knights surrounded him. Spears thrust from behind towered shields. Swords scraped against rough scales. Noxious green flames spewed from the serpent tail while a butcher's cleaver swung wildly. Cycles of death and rebirth conjured an endless stream of madness.
The throne room trembled. Long-standing pillars cracked beneath the overwhelming pressure. Fragments of stone rained from above. Distorted screams for help fell silent to the void.
Veronica and I stood at the center – our blades interlocked.
"Stop this, brother!"
Veronica tried reasoning with me once more. "Look at the carnage around us. You've proven your point. So please, stop this!"
"Mommy!"
Veronica turned toward where Lilliana and Theo had become separated from safety. The fierceness she was known for had died to concern.
That single moment was enough for me to take control. I drove my forehead into hers.
She staggered backward before my kick slammed into her stomach, sending her crashing through a nearby pillar. Three shadowy wolves pounced, pinning her to the ground.
With Veronica out of the way, I turned my attention to uncle.
Three lines of knights clashed together. I was surprised to see a barrier of light magic surrounding the throne itself. Beams of light flowing skyward. Uncle's protective aether soon took the form of a seraphim.
Uncle raised his hand and roared. "Enough!"
Light magic gathered within the seraphim's core, its hands outlining the converging power. Uncle raised his left hand before him, and turned his thumb downward. A violent blinding pulse of light erupted from the orb. Shadows turned to dust. Agonizing screams surged through my head.
I wiped away something trickling from my nose. Blood coated my fingers.
Ignoring the pain, I charged Uncle when a circle of light magic shimmered beneath me. Golden chains erupted from the marble floor. Each one coiled around me like a bug trapped in a spider's web. My magic exploded the moment it touched the chains. Pain forced me to my knees.
"You had many chances." Leather boots filled my vision. "Yet you still chose violence."
Slowly, I followed the legs and found Freya standing over me, her sword resting at her side. I tried to stand, but the chains tightened with each movement. Inscriptions burned into my flesh like the brand upon my shoulder. Their light seared through skin and shadow alike.
I looked at her with defiant eyes. "Violence is the only thing I know."
Pain continued to spread through my body. Shadows screamed in my ears until nothing else was heard. The shadow knights fought valiantly against the light, only for their forms to destabilize into nothingness. The Hunting Grounds convulsed violently, revealing the throne room untouched beneath.
Freya lifted her sword. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, cousin."
"Is that right?" I muttered through gritted teeth. "Yet you eagerly please your father. Like the little dog you are."
I closed my eyes when her blade fell.
SLAM.
A sudden burst of strength pulsed through me. I opened my eyes and found Freya staring blankly upward. Remnants of the shattered chains littered around her. The magic seeped into the shadows. Darkness bared its fangs once more.
A voice boomed within my mind. "You're still a novice, Raven."
I turned toward Uncle and found sheer terror in his eyes as his magic shattered.
I didn't need your help.
The laughter of my patron thrummed through my mind.
I grasped Tartarus's hilt. Its weight grew heavier by the second. My mana was rapidly dwindling, barely keeping the Hunting Grounds stable. Mana depletion was the killer of most mages. Whatever happened next had to happen quickly, or I'd be killed either way.
I raised my blade. "I'm sorry, Freya." Tears ran down my cheek as it descended.
The sound of colliding steel echoed through the shrouded room.
A translucent blue blade easily caught Tartarus mid-strike with ease. I followed the fate runes stretching its thin surface toward its owner. Nyxis wore a frightening expression devoid of emotion. The emerald eyes I've fallen in love with carried disgust. She used my distracted state to sweep my feet out from underneath me.
The tip of her rapier stopped me from rising. "That is enough, my beloved."