Dromos 1 – Dromos 5, Imperial Year 1645
The Valley of Stonewell – Mercia's Eastern Front
A month had passed since the first great demon descended from the Black Mountain. The valley that had once held the village of Stonewell was now a wasteland. The fields were scorched. The river ran black with ash. And the spawn – twisted, clawed things the size of wolves – moved through the ruins in packs.
Captain Brenn of the Mercian army crouched behind a broken wall, his sword in his hand. His men were scattered along the ridge – fifty soldiers, tired, hungry, running low on arrows.
"Captain," a scout whispered, crawling up beside him. "There's more of them. Coming from the mountain."
"How many?"
"Dozens. Maybe a hundred."
Brenn cursed. "We can't hold."
"What do we do?"
"We fall back. Slow. Keep formation. Don't let them flank us."
The scout nodded and crawled away.
Brenn looked at the mountain. Black smoke still rose from its peak. And then he saw it – a second shape, emerging from the smoke. Larger than the first. A second great demon.
"Gods help us," he whispered.
Dromos 1, Imperial Year 1645
The Eastern Front – The Retreat
The soldiers fell back through the forest, fighting a running battle. Arrows loosed. Swords swung. The spawn were fast, relentless, and fearless.
A young soldier named Aris stumbled. A spawn lunged at his throat. Brenn's sword took its head off.
"Stay on your feet!" Brenn shouted.
"There's too many!" Aris cried.
"Then we kill them until there aren't!"
They fought for three hours. When they finally reached the fortified village of Oakhaven, only thirty of the fifty remained. The rest were dead or missing.
Brenn reported to Commander Valerius, a grizzled veteran with a scar across his nose.
"The second great demon," Brenn said. "It's real. It came out of the smoke."
Valerius's face was stone. "How many spawn?"
"Hundreds. Maybe thousands. They're spreading faster than we can kill them."
"The king has called for reinforcements. But they're days away."
"We don't have days."
Valerius looked at the horizon. "Then we buy time. Whatever it takes."
Dromos 3, Imperial Year 1645
The Royal Palace, Mercia – The King's Council Chamber
King Edric had not slept in three days. Dark circles ringed his eyes. His clothes were rumpled, his hair unwashed. He stood before the map table, his generals around him.
"The second great demon," Edric said. "Confirmed."
General Aldric nodded. "Our scouts saw it. It's larger than the first. And it's leading the spawn south."
"South? Toward the capital?"
"Not yet. But toward the fertile valleys. The breadbasket."
Edric slammed his fist on the table. "We cannot lose the harvest. Millions will starve."
"Then we must stop it here." The general pointed to a river crossing. "The bridge at Harrow's Ford. It's the only crossing for miles. If we hold it, we can slow them."
"How many men?"
"I can give you two thousand."
"The spawn have thousands," the spymaster said. "And two great demons."
Edric looked at the map. "Then we need help. Send riders to Valdria. To the Free Cities. To anyone who will listen."
"And the Black Knights?"
Edric's jaw tightened. "They failed once. I will not beg."
Dromos 4, Imperial Year 1645
The Royal Palace, Valdria – The King's Study
King Theodric was dying. He knew it. His face was gaunt, his hands trembled, but his eyes still burned. Prince Orin stood beside him.
"A second great demon," Theodric said. "Mercia is bleeding."
"Yes, Father."
"We cannot ignore this. If Mercia falls, we are next."
"What do you command?"
"Send two thousand soldiers to the border. Not to cross – to defend our own land. And send gold. Grain. Whatever Edric needs."
"And the Black Knights?"
Theodric coughed. "I heard they are rebuilding. Let them. We may need them yet."
Dromos 4, Imperial Year 1645
The Free Cities – Council Hall, Velathri
Magda Serran had aged a decade in a month. Her hair was greyer, her face more lined. She sat at the head of the table, surrounded by merchants who had finally stopped arguing.
"The second great demon," she said. "Mercia is falling."
"What do we do?" a merchant asked.
"We send everything. Gold, food, weapons. And we open the city to refugees."
"That will cost a fortune."
"It will cost more if the demons come here."
The merchants nodded. They had no arguments left.
Dromos 4, Imperial Year 1645
The Frozen Keep, Thornreach – The King's Hall
King Jorund the Grim stood at the window, looking south. He had not left this room in a week.
"A second great demon," his spymaster said. "Mercia is losing."
Jorund turned. His face was unchanged – cold, hard, ancient.
"Send a battalion to the southern pass. Not to fight – to watch. If the demons come north, we will know."
"And if they ask for help?"
"They will not ask. They are proud." Jorund returned to the window. "Let them bleed."
Dromos 4, Imperial Year 1645
The Silverwood, Aelindor – The Elven Court
Queen Aelindra stood in her garden, the report in her hand. The flowers were wilting. She had not tended them in days.
"A second great demon," she said. "The humans cannot stop them."
Her advisor bowed. "What would you have us do, Your Majesty?"
"Send rangers to the border. If the spawn enter Aelindor, kill them. If the great demons come…" She paused. "Then we will decide."
"And the Black Knights?"
Aelindra crumpled the report. "They are irrelevant."
Dromos 5, Imperial Year 1645
The Khergit Steppes – The Khan's Tent
Khan Temur sat on a pile of furs, sharpening his knife. The report lay beside him.
"A second great demon," he said. "The south burns."
His blood brother nodded. "What do we do, Khan?"
"We wait. If the demons come north, we ride. If they stay south…" He tested the blade. "Then we let the humans deal with their own problems."
Dromos 5, Imperial Year 1645
The Ironhold Compact – The Dwarven Council
Thane Grimstone stood before the great forge. His hammer was in his hand, but he had not struck steel in hours.
"A second great demon," he said. "Above ground."
His aide nodded. "The humans are losing."
"Then we seal the tunnels. All of them."
"And those above?"
Grimstone's face was stone. "They knew the risks when they built their cities on the surface."
He turned back to the forge. The hammer fell.
End of Chapter Sixty‑Nine