An Unlikely Ally

"As much as I understand your actions, I really wish you hadn't killed that succubus." Gunther groaned. "She could've been very useful."

Amber was about to open her mouth to reply when Lance chimed in. "My Lord, she was not going to give any more information away. And keeping her alive was too much of a risk; you saw what they're capable of. All she would have to do is charm the guards and she'd be free in a flash."

"Still, it was not her call to make." Gunther stated bluntly.

"Had Amber not done it, I would've killed her myself." Lance replied. "I lost too many good men to those monsters to keep her alive."

Gunther groaned again, and Lance could see the attack on Windspire weighed heavily on him. He knew that it was not the ideal path, and many innocents had lost their lives. But then again, considering the depths of corruption here, a full assault was the only solution anyway. Lance just wished they'd realised sooner.

"What about the one that you say escaped?" Gunther asked.

"We've combed high and low for her. We believe she escaped through the panic tunnels under the palace, some of my Shades found the tunnel entrances disturbed only recently." Lance replied. "I think she's long gone now."

"And the revelation that someone was pulling the Succubi's strings?"

"That I don't know." Lance sighed. "We need to search the palace, particularly the living quarters for the succubi. Maybe we'll find something."

"It could be a Shadow trick, but it does concern me that we are being pushed in directions for reasons we don't understand." Gunther stated. "I don't like being on the back foot, and not knowing who our mysterious puppet master is, if there is one, does not sit well with me."

"Me neither my Lord." Lance replied. "Rest assured we'll turn this place upside down for clues."

"Alright. Keep me updated." Gunther stated. "Dismissed."

Amber and Lance walked out of the makeshift office Gunther had set up in the library. Looking back, Amber could see Gunther hang his head as he contemplated his next move.

"Thanks again." Amber whispered. "I thought he was going to tear my head off."

"No problem." Lance smiled. "Now, get some rest, Lyra and I will start the search."

Her scream shattered the silence as Amber jolted awake. Within seconds half a dozen soldiers were in the room making sure she was ok. They dispersed when they realised there was no immediate danger, giving the crying Amber some privacy.

Eventually, when the images of her captivity faded enough to allow her to focus on the present, Amber climbed out of the bed and went to look for Lance. She eventually found him in the dining area, the same one that Amber and the Rosecults were originally ambushed in.

Lance must've heard her coming in. "This was the place wasn't it?" He asked solemnly. It was a rhetorical question however; the red blood staining the carpet was proof enough. "We've yet to find their bodies. Something tells me we never will."

Amber put her hand on his shoulder. "Maybe that's for the best." She looked up at him. "Have you found anything to go on?"

Lance nodded. "We have actually. In one of the bedrooms we found some correspondence between our succubus mole and who we presume is our puppet master. Also we found instructions around how our mole was meant to get in contact with him."

"That's great news. So, are we going to make contact?"

"We're already on it."

Lyra wrapped the cloak around her as she waited at the top of the tower. The biting wind made the cold air almost unbearable and she could feel her teeth chattering in her mouth. The small apparatus on the tower roof glowed brightly, the Shadow Crystal inside sending a thin stream of light into the heavens. She hoped she wouldn't have to wait up here for long; thankfully it was only a few minutes before she heard the unmistakable sound of beating wings.

The Gargoyle perched on the edge of the tower for a moment before dropping down and walking over to Lyra. By the time he realised it was not his contact, Lyra had grabbed him and shoved him to the ground, her blade at his neck. "Talk."

"Who are you?" The Gargoyle spat, his voice gravelly and unpleasant. "Where's Mileena?"

"Mileena lost her head." Lyra snarled. "Now talk, unless you want to lose yours."

"Hey, ok, ok!" The Gargoyle replied, "Truth be told I'm sick of this anyway."

"Name." Lyra demanded.

"Ka'thax." The Gargoyle replied, somewhat sheepishly. "Look, I'll answer all your questions, but the stone floor is a bit cold, so can you let me up?"

"Tell you what, you give me what I want and then I'll think about it." Lyra said bluntly. "Who are you working for?"

Ka'thax sighed. "Figured as much. Look, I just wanted out, a nice cave in the forest, plenty of animals to hunt. Solitary. Instead I get dragged back into this, what's the word you humans use, shit?"

"You're not answering my question."

"I work out of Ter Adun's camp." Ka'thax replied. "The messages come from there."

"So Ter Adun is the contact?" Lyra asked.

Ka'thax coughed. ""I don't know, the messages are always just waiting for me. But I can help you find out."

"And why would you want to do that?"

"As I said before, I want out of this stupid war. I've been attacked by my allies more often than my enemies. I just want my cave in the forest. Give me that and I'll do whatever you want."

Strangely enough, Lyra found herself believing Ka'thax. He sounded more sincere than most humans ever did. A quick scan of his mind confirmed he wasn't lying.

"All right." She said, moving off of Ka'thax and letting him stand. He cracked his neck and beat his wings a couple of times to stretch them out again. "You have 24 hours. If you do this, I'll organise a team to help you get out of the camp."

Ka'thax nodded before lifting off and returning to where he came from. Lyra sighed as she descended the staircase back into the palace.

She hoped she was right about this.

The next day, a rap on her window caused Lyra to spin around. There was no one there, but wedged between the window frame and the stone wall was a single scrap of paper. Grabbing it before the wind caught it, Lyra unfurled the paper. In a rather poor cursive it simply read:

Kairos.