Peace is a lie

Chapter 45: The Nights, The Blades, And The Crows

'You can't go! You mustn't.' I jumped in front of Elren. 'I can't allow you.'

Elren's eyes were like two unfocused portals. He didn't look determined, but it seemed he wasn't going to budge.

Elren tried to step around me, and I went to grab his arm. All I could grab was an empty sleeve where his left arm should've been. Since I knew Elren, he used his left arm dominantly. He used it to write, to lift, and to wield his sword. There were times where he could use his right arm for all those things, however, having his left arm taking away left him vulnerable.

'I can fight,' he said, his voice thick with anger.

'Listen, Leila…' Aranwen interjected with a mild tone of concern. 'I won't say Elren will be at his best out there, but I did train him before with the weapons of Akivir. I've seen him use his right arm before. There isn't really—'

'Two arms are always better than one in battle!' I seethed. 'You might be able to swing a sword with one, maybe even effectively, but you always need two in a fight. I can't allow him—I just can't.'

Elren gave an expressionless nod. 'I must,' he said softly. 'The Rovseed.'

I stomped my feet and pounded the bark of the wall. 'This is utter horse shit! All of you!' I looked at my brothers, Esmond, Gwendalyn, and even the Leucrota and Sultel. 'I watched you all die one by one. I felt the hurt of losing you. I cannot do that again.'

Milkar stood from his chair and looked me directly in the eyes. It was the first time he's done so since his returned. 'We know this is your fight. You've taken a vow of vengeance and martyrdom for us,' he slapped the crescent moon emblazoned on his chest plate, 'but it had always been our fight. Even before you came, we've decided to give our lives for it.'

'Even us, Leila,' Larethia added. 'Even when we worked for that bastard, we wanted to revolt. You only provided a means to an end.' She raised a hand. 'I'm not saying we used you,' Orc and Grim looked down in uncertainty, 'we have grown to love you, but we would still try even if you didn't come along.'

I never heard Larethia speak like that. My shoulders slumped, and I felt defeated.

I turned to Elren and studied him. He trained hard during our time in Shimmer Root, and his skills were almost equal to mine. And he was faster. Perhaps it wasn't too farfetched to believe he can still fight with one arm. Who was I to tell him he wasn't? The whole reason why he suffered such a gruesome fate was because of me. I've always picked a fight too big for me, and it was my friends that felt the backlash. Yet, they still followed me. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and surrendered.

'It's settled. On the morrow, we march.'

They all nodded.

The next day came fast. In my days forging my path away from those who've wanted me to follow in my mother's boots, I never thought I'd have the force of two thousand Ranger Guard at my back. It was more than a quarter of the entire Guard. However, I knew it would still be a struggle. In Valenwood's forests, bandits and thieves trained hard in all manner of combat. And to count Monsotar's force of Nightblades, the fight ahead of us was going to be tough. It's not to say that the Ranger Guard were lacking in strength and strategy, but you should never underestimate the will of the criminal world. For every Ranger Guardian that has passed the Trial of the Greensap, there were ten ordinary warriors that found their destiny in the world of larceny, murder for hire, and banditry. Monsotar has connected them all with the Thieves of the Wood.

The Woods has grown from a group of four specialized individuals to a guild. And with the introduction of nightblade magicks, they've evolved into something Tamriel has never seen before. They were a symbiote army of incredible power. An army living in the shadows; an organization that controlled many aspects of the everyday lives of ordinary people. From simple storeowners to the highest political spectrum. Some say he has agents within the Guard itself.

In the final hour, my otherwise bold confidence began to dwindle. Listening to the archers that walked beside me and those traversing the trees. I'm not experienced enough. Although I gave myself to whatever trial they decided my worth as Watchmaster, I've never fought with any of them. I never gave an order that will decide their survival.

I took only two archeries from the north down into the Grove of Bent Grasses. The crag and spore trees of Reaper's March changed to the lush greenery and massive trees of the Grahtwood. Night had fallen already, and the bioluminescent plants revealed the faces of Ranger Guardians. Their faces looked hard in the soft glow. They were ready for war.

The Ranger Guard have always been mobilized the scout massive bandit clans in their camps. This wasn't simple scouting; this was something so much more and far worse. I wanted to end this in one simple battle. Not a war, but it will feel like it.

My mind wandered to Elren once more. He and Aranwen will come from the western flank as I come in from the north. It was a good thing Aranwen was with him. I know my brother was as good as Milkar albeit a bit more subtle with his skills.

The Grove of Bent Grasses was a series of arduous trees. But between the trees and among the planes that separate them, grass as tall as three Altmer gave us a creeping cover. This was Thieves of the Wood territory so they would know more about traversing the tall grass than us. I traveled with unease.

Bow Yesime pulled up to my side with Sultel. His face carried a subtle trace of worry. He looked strong in his Ranger Guard armor, plated with moonstone under layered plates of leathers. Feathers stretched out from his face guard tethered into his dark brown hood. My raven black leathers were forged in the likeness of his armor except for the reinforcement of moonstone. I like to keep myself light and thought it nothing marching into a battle where our enemies will be donning leathers as well.

'We're in the enemy's territory, Watchmaster. We should—' His words were cut off as a Feather dropped abruptly with a sickening crunch, an arrow protruding from his left eye.

I signaled for all to take quick cover. Many of them did not need the order. I ran for cover behind a ridge, scanning the forest. Only Ranger Guard stalked the forest; some behind me and others hopping from one bough to the next. They all stopped in their tracks. I knew that Monsotar would leave a trap to slow us down, but I didn't realize they'd be this far from Centaurcrass.

'Shield wall!' Yesime ordered. Those hold diamond shields spun a gleaming wall of metal around their comrades.

High above in the trees, clattering began and the high resound twangs of bowstrings sung a cacophony of warfare, but I couldn't pinpoint the enemy's location. A small girl, smaller than me, wearing an arrow tip emblem emblazoned on her chest was standing near the twisted root of a tree when a sword struck out and sliced cleanly down the center of her breast. Gore spilled from her as the top half of her body slid into the tall grass leaving the bottom half still standing. More arrows barraged the right flank of my archery. I twirled on the balls of my feet as three arrows came streaming through the air towards me. My sword's instincts jolted to life, sending power coursing through my body as Ghost Flame ripped from Nocturnal's Talon nestled in my back scabbard. The violet flames form a sort of shell around my body as the arrows hit and disintegrated into ash. I slipped the Lockharte's heirloom Iron-Bark bow into my hands and notched an arrow on its bowstring. I had no enemy to fire upon, but I let loose the arrow towards the direction the enemy arrows flew from. It landed inched into the bark of the tree. A loud groan resounded and a Bosmer peeled from the bark and fell dead. Some sort of spell dispersed from him, turning from tree bark to normal leathers.

'The trees!' I called. 'They're camouflaged as the trees!' I should've known Monsotar's Nightblades were so clever as to hide in plain sight.

The scene exploded into horror as the forest around us awoke with bloodshed. What was once the plant life of the grove exploded into enemies as they disengaged their clever Illusion spell.

The battle had started.

I ripped through the tall grass towards the nearest bout of enemies. Monsotar's main force—the Nightblades; known for their use of Illusion and Alteration magicks. I smacked one down with my bow, cracking his head open and leaking his brain as several teeth flung from his mouth. As a swordsman, I was strong, but with archery, there was no stopping me. I sent two arrows into another, leaving him armless and choking on his own blood as one arrow caught him right through the throat. I bent down, narrowly slipping under a thrown ax whistling towards my head. Sultel moved like a gale wind, carving through the onslaught as if they were nothing but dummies in his wake. I didn't have time to admire the sickly old man's prowess. But to see what a fighter that trained under my mother would otherwise put a pause in my step in any other circumstance.

Monsotar's men were plucked off one by one by my arrows. Each shot landed dead center in their heart; their armor proving nothing but a failure against my marksmanship. Across the forest floor, the Ranger Guard met the league of criminals with a hard force, their organization was far superior despite the Nightblade's attempts at the ambush. Another tree dissolved into another dozen Nightblades. And then another and another. Using the Illusion school to disguise themselves as trees was certainly a genius move on their part, but I came to kill Monsotar, and I was ready for anything he could throw at us. All the pieces were in place. Today was the day he will fall.

I ran further into the grove, an offset Quiver sprinting behind. Orc was separated during the first wave of enemies. The Divines will carry him through. Larethia and Grim were somewhere mixed in with the Ranger Guardians.

'Raven, above!' Larethia voiced ranged out as she used wind magicks to fly up.

Their numbers were staggering. A black cloud darkened the soft glow of the Y'ffre Light from up above. I jumped up, Nocturnal's Talon at the ready. Power bubbled forth from the blade, Ghost Flame pouring out in its violet magnificence. The Ghost Flame flared outward, capturing the cloud of arrows in an embrace of destruction. My mother's very willpower transformed the essence of Oblivion into what we see: A cold fire that turns whatever it touches ash instantly. It was my defense and my attack. I slashed through the barrage of arrows, turning the battlefield into a storm of ash.

Landing on a bough, I dashed into a brigade, carving through all with relative ease. I let my mind go; giving my body to total instinct. My blade moved back and forth. Through every motion, not one move was wasted energy. Screams and cries rose around me but I ignored every last plea. Larethia landed at my side along with three other Ranger Guard. We came in hot, gutting our enemies and leaving them for the buzzards to feast.

Under my wing were Larethia, Orc, Grim, Sultel, and Milkar. But I haven't seen my brother since the carnage started. Fire blasts, ice spikes, and lightning bolts streamed down in the underbrush. The tall grass looking redder with the slaughter.

When one the group of Nightblades was finished, I hopped off the bough onto a vine and swung across to another tree. The bark shimmered, revealing faint faces in its meat. A simple drag of my sword as I wrapped around the tree's bough dispersed the Illusion spell, and a dozen Bosmer criminals fell dead to the floor. The tree tumbled down, breaking and transforming to a surplus of Nightblade warriors. I landed in front of them ready for round three. Or was it four? It didn't matter. Monsotar was going to fall, and anyone that followed him will follow him to the grave.

'Watchmaster!'

I turned to see the archery shift in their positions. Dozens, no hundreds of trees breaking down into thousands of enemies at once. Dread spread across my guardians' faces the enemy began to outnumber and swarm us. Monsotar must've stretched his main force for this ambush. If I didn't do something, they'll overrun us within the hour.

I fought through the mass of bodies to come to a circle of trampled underbrush and gore. Bow Yesime fought with the ferocity of a wild cat, brandishing two shortswords, one of his own and one taken from a fallen guardian. He pierced one Nightblade, twirled to meet an ice spike hurdling his way and sliced the spell in two before jumping through the air and cutting down the caster. I came in with my sword severing the forearms of one unfortunate moron. An arrow cut across the expanse and grazed my shoulder. I roared, unleashing a flurry of Ghost Flame that fissured twenty meters before me, catching on more than two dozen enemies and turning them into chalk.

'We need an out,' I called.

Yesime grunted, ripping his blades free of a belly. 'If you figure something out, tell me, Watchmaster.'

'I have a plan, but you're gonna have to call a retreat.'

'The Ranger Guard doesn't know such a command.' He said with clenched jaws.

'Godsdammit! So, send them east.' I barked. 'Else they're all gonna get caught in my blast.'

'We'll give you some coverage.' The Leucrota dropped on my flanks.

Orc unleashed a savage howl. Grim and Larethia joined him in the maniac calls. I couldn't help but allow myself to smile. I lifted my mouth to the air and breathed out a long, drawling howl. Whirlwinds sound around Larethia's hands as she unleashed a gale wind the blasted an opening for me to step in.

My body jolted; rolling my eyes towards the back of my head as power surged through my sword, allowing me to drink it in. Intoxicated with its effects, I could do anything. It's said Mother had the power to end armies if she wanted to. I turned a hundred Aldmeri Dominion soldiers to ash from a simple spike of my anger. What must I do to tap the power within once more?

I raised Nocturnal's Talon so that the blade pointed straight out. The swarm of enemies was like a hive of marabuntas protecting their home. No form to their attack; no organization of priorities. Their goal was to just kill and hurt. The Ghost Flame bubbled onto the blade, then like a stick thrown into a fire, it burst into flames. Not a roaring fire, but a dancing flicker of a candle. Then it began to wave like a torch, jetting forward faster and faster until it streamed into a focused jet as if bellowed forth like a dragon's breath. My heart thumped against my chest as the pressure of power began to build up within my body, down my arm, and back into the sword.

I let it all go at once.

The violet-colored flame went forth not as a wind in a storm but as an impending tsunami when the earth shakes at the center of the sea. Nothing could stop it; not a mage; not a damned Divine.

There were no cries, no pondering or dazed survivors filled with war-shock. Not even a wake of destruction to punctuate what I had done. Only a white plane of powder remained. Trees and underbrush that once covered this corner of the forest no longer existed, becoming ash along with the thousands of enemies that threatened to run us in. I opened up a wide clearing hundred meters in diameter, but it left the wake of the blast as white as snow. The ground turned glassy as the sun's glare finally reached to what once was a forest floor. Now it seemed as if it was a wasteland made of ash. A white blotch surrounded by a sea of green. I burned the forest, but it will grow back in time.

Such power was too terrifying, even for the Leucrota that stared in awe behind me. And to think this Ghost Flame was only a sliver of Ara High-Arrow's own.

To be completely honest, Mother limited her power to the form of a bow and arrow. For good reason. Even then, it earned her the epitaph of Ara of the Ghost Bow. But she was not a ghost. She was a force of the Divines in elven form.

I slipped Nocturnal's Talon into its scabbard and took a knee. I scooped up a hand full of ash and washed my hands in it. I was aware of Larethia, Grim, and Orc staring at me as I did so. They said nothing.

Those Bosmer were mortals they once played on the same team with. Jobs were done, and sometimes bonds were made. But unlike the Leucrota, they made the mistake of choosing the wrong side; the mistake of going against me.

Orc unleashed another howl with more conviction than he's ever done so before.

Running back into the forest showed me that the Thieves of the Wood weren't done with their ambush. Was it five thousand? Maybe ten thousand under the feet of Monsotar? They were endless. Now with just the four of us rushing to Centaurcrass, making it to Monsotar seemed a bit of an impossibility. Even the impossible was not going to stop me.

'Where is Milkar?' I grunted as we were converged upon the battlefield.

The broken Iron-Bark Graht-Oak loomed above. We were much closer to the Woods' den now. Signs of its roots snaking throughout the grove were beginning to show. The roaring bustling, clinking of swords, twangs of recurve bows, and sputtering of Destruction magicks rang in the air some distance away. We were saved from being overrun, but their spearhead was still met with desperate resistance.

We caught up with the few straggling fights that didn't keep up with the main part of the battle. Few of the Ranger Guard were deadlocked with Nightblades from the ground and among the trees. This was considered "the rear of the front line". I ferociously cut through their numbers as quickly as I could, gathering a following of those I helped.

Elren, Aranwen, Gwendalyn, and Esmond were holding the northern flank with Milkar and I coming from the west. I hoped they were okay. Milkar should've been here at my side; his absence worried me; however, I knew he was capable of surviving this fight on his own. My goal dominated the skies above us now. We were in the view of Centaurcrass. Its root created large ridgelines across the grove, sectioning off the valleys of its base.

'Nice of you to catch up, daughter of Ara.' Sultel Worm-Flower said from on top of a root wall. His rapier was bone white and clean.

'Sultel! Have you seen Milkar?' I asked him.

He put a finger to his chin. 'Hmm. I can't say I have. But then again, he does wield the Usurper's sword. He probably slipped past us without anyone noticing.'

Pondus' enchantment helped Milkar slip in and out of existence to travel instantly across a distance. He must've used it when the battle started, but where did he go if not closer to the Graht-Oak?

I sighed. 'Why would that man just run off on his own?'

Sultel hopped from the root wall and landed beside us. 'The boy isn't under your command. In fact, he's supposedly your leader, no?'

Did I forget? This war, this entire feud against Monsotar was only a blood rage that I adopted from Milkar. Wherever he was, I'm sure his pursuit was his own goals. I closed my eye and drank in the air to clear my mind. Where ever he was, I hoped he helped further our success.

We made our way under the shadow of Centaurcrass where the grass grew its longest. The battle raged on. With Ranger Guard's frontal attack on what was left of the Nightblades, I found myself searching every corner for the northern advance. Elren and the others were supposed to rendezvous under the file dry root walls of the broken Graht-Oak. There was blood and bodies everywhere. Some riddled with arrows, some cleaved by melee, and others unrecognizable by magicks. What was once a long forest of grass as tall as trees became trampled and muddied by warfare. We fought on.

'Look what we have here.'

I spun around to block a hurdling ax flying my way. Its blade met mine and before Nocturnal's Talon could burn it, the ax returned to its owner on a magical tether. Three Nightblades stood before us in full Crow leathers. One green, one brown, and one a stark black. It seemed Monsotar wasted no time in replacing his special bodyguards that I hunted down and killed myself. My sword vibrated as if happy to fight someone strong.

'All three Crows gifted to me on a silver platter,' I said with a smile curling my lips. 'Either Monsotar is inexperienced with war, or he's deliberately trying to lose. Which is it?'

'You must be the famed Black Raven,' the green armored Crow said. 'No.' He chuckled. 'We are actually here on our own volition.'

'You see,' the Crow in brown started, 'we heard that Leila Lockharte was leading a charge against the Thieves of the Wood. So, instead of being the charge of our fronts, we decided to take it upon ourselves to bring Monsotar your head. But we're no fools—we'll need all three of us together to make that happen.'

I nodded. All around me the battle raged on. Ranger Guard killed Nightblades, and Nightblades killed Ranger Guard. We were grossly outnumbered. These demons came from everywhere; every corner and every overturned rock. I hated them all. I will destroy them.

'Leila, we don't have time for only three of these bastards,' Larethia seethed.

I patted Larethia on the pauldron. 'If I allow my army to fight these three, I'll lose too many of them before they fell. I'll end their lives here and now.' I pointed towards the north. 'I need you all to go and support the others.' I quickly turned to Larethia and took an intimate moment to look her in the eyes. 'You've helped me all these months to get this far. All of you did. I thank for being at my side. You've become a part of my family, and I would die for every one of you. But now I need to ask one more thing of you three: Find Elren. Find him and protect him.'

'Raven, we don't—'

'Do this for me, Grim!' I exclaimed. 'I know we haven't always seen eye to eye. I took over your Leucrota, and a lot of you died under my black wings. This might be the last order I give to you. If you wish, you can turn away. Take whatever you've learned from this life and go live wonderfully and free. If you stay, then know you will not earn eternal life, you will not know glory. This is merely annihilation in shadow. Criminals versus criminals. I have grown to love you, but I will not hesitate to spend your lives as I would from the first moments of meeting you.' I turned from them, subverting my attention to the three new Crows that stood before me.

'Never pulling any punches, gods-damn it, Raven,' Orc coughed.

The Leucrota stood in silence, but I knew their courage never wavered. This lot were rogues. It would take nothing for them to flee this battlefield and go and live their best lives somewhere far from this land. They could find peace elsewhere, find riches even—they had the skills—they could find happiness where I would only offer them heartbreak. My life began with a rebellion, and it will end with a rebellion.

'Fine,' Larethia said, stiffening in her resolve. 'But promise us that you will win.'

'I'll win,' I promised.

They departed with a nod, Sultel with them. I turned towards my foes as they watched me.

'So, you must be stronger than Disnel and Sevyn, I presumed? What about Rindiel?'

The Crow in black cracked a sinister smile. They each had their own unique assortment of weapons. One held an ax, the same one that attacked me earlier. He used a magical tether for mid-range attacks. The Crow in green held serrated twin swords, sinister spines dotted the blade which was slick with blood. The final Crow, I saw before within the ranks of the Woods. The Trotter they called him. His specialty was conjuration like Andalf or Mondo. They were prestigious in a manner of speaking. It was no wonder they became Monsotar's new Crows.

The Black Crow moved with unnatural speed. He swiped at me with his ax, but I doubled in my defense. I watched his rouse. The ax flew left, and he went right. He studded his feet into the mud and ripped the magical tendril back towards him. The ax sped towards me. I had no choice but to dodge it, leaving me open to the other two. Conjured darts sped past my head, I twitched my head to the side, the second one ripped across my brow. I landed, blood trickling down from the wound. The ground under me began to rumble. I jumped again. As two serrated blades emerged from the ground, the Green Crow made surface from underneath. A hot burn ripped against the flesh of my legs. The Black Crow's ax crunched against my ribs, and I fell.

I led the original crows into their deaths. Sevyn's death was the most satisfying. Her cries of terror when the fires consumed her body taught me of the darkness that filled my heart. And Disnel's look of surprise when Rindiel cut his colossal ego down to size. Although I dipped my hands in the machinations of their deaths, it never came down to fighting them one on one. My skin prickled at the thought of going against these three. If they held the title of Crow, then it was assured that they were the best of the Thieves of the Wood.

I stood on quivering legs. My heart pounded blood throughout my body so heavily, I could feel the veins around my head pulsing. Nocturnal's Talon begged me to unleash its violet fury. I quelled the fury in my heart. He's probably watching his Crows do their work, and Ghost Flame was my trump card. Monsotar was throwing everything he had at this battle, and I've only just begun.

My hands trembled in the wake of the battle. The nerves in my jaws squeezed with excitement as if hungering for the challenge. They watched me, awaiting the right time to strike. This war wasn't dazzling like the stories would tell you. Bodies litter the forest floor, blood mixed with soil become a red mud that smelled of wet copper. The taste of volatiles emitted by the cry of wounded flora sends my saliva into a frenzy. Thanks to the adrenaline and Nocturnal's Talon's enchantment, my senses were hyper. I can taste everything, feel the vibrations of movement underfoot. Across the Grove, I could see my friends fighting on, stripping a path to Centaurcrass.

The Crow with the brown armor slid his foot into a stance. I worked out what his sword's enchantment was, and it could eat through soil and rock like a power-packed mole, but he wasn't the finisher. That was the Black Crow's job. The main one I needed to watch. But if I wasn't careful, the other two could end my life as well. I needed to break their combination of attacks.

The Black Crow came in with a charge, instead of watching him, I kept my eyes on his ax. He flung it wide, and I jumped. Quickly, pretending to be distracted, I whipped a throwing knife onto my palm and launched it at the Green Crow. It did its work as he took the time to dodge, breaking their teamwork. I focused on the Black Crow; he was closer than I thought. We collided in the air, his ax hurdling back towards me. I grabbed him, wrestling his arms back and twisted us around. Thud. He went limp, and we fell. Only one of us rose, his own weapon protruding from his spine. I set the violet flames to his body.

The other two regrouped. Sweat beaded on their brows; desperation set in their eyes. They were stunned, and that made them fear me.

'You bitch!' The Green Crow growled through clenched teeth.

'What do we do now, Niatur?' The Brown Crow asked

'We should go…'

I slipped Nocturnal's Talon back into its scabbard and pointed behind them. 'I'm not alone in this fight,' I said. They didn't have the chance. Blades crunched through their skulls. As their bodies slid to the ground, Milkar and Crestel stood like two pillars of strength.

'Thought you abandoned us.' Milkar's emerald eyes flickered.

'Just bringing up the calvary.' He chucked his head towards Crestel.

My body relaxed slightly. To see a member of the Elder Guard here, and the First Seat, no less, was a miracle. 'I'm glad you could be here, cousin.'

'And with good reason.' Crestel wore a grim frown. 'The Archeries are taking a beating, Leila.'

'Ambushed,' I informed him. 'Monsotar always understood that if the hierarchy of Valenwood turned their arrowheads towards his guild it'll be all over. He's desperate, so he's throwing everything at me in the grove.'

Crestel wiped the blood from his shortsword with his elder cape. 'Doesn't seem like a well-thought strategy. It might be a trap.'

'He already sprung that one,' I said.

Crestel rubbed the butt of his chin in contemplation. He looked at the killing field. 'It is a trap.'

'What?'

'Crestel is right,' Milkar interjected. 'The Ranger Guard's advantage is in the trees, not the grass. He's making you confident. Or at least, the army.'

Crestel agreed. 'Held you back with his best fighters.'

'In retrospect, Monsotar doesn't need his guild to fight. He can end this whole thing by himself.'

'Then our best bet is to spearhead through,' Milkar said.

They both nodded in agreement. But were the three of us enough to reach Centaurcrass and confront Monsotar? The way I understood it, this was all a parade for Monsotar, he only wanted me when the time was right. He molded me into the raven, or so he thought. This was what I was born for; what the raven led me through the forest for—this was my destiny.

I withdrew the Watchmaster's badge of office and led my brother and cousin into the heart of the battle. We ripped through the onslaught of enemies alongside our allies. The time for orders has long passed. The fog of war was a deafening and blinding thing,

I am a herald of their death. I have earned the names that my enemies shiver when they are muttered. I lead Crestel and Milkar to the front of the front lines. An uncomfortable feeling reeled me to a halt. The Ranger Guard are unchallenged here. Stragglers of the Woods are put to quick deaths, but the main force had retreated back into the broken Graht-Oak. Crestel may have been right.

The trouncing of battle battered the tall grass, leaving a clear view of the Centaurcrass. That's when I heard grumbling through the ground and a hiss of the air. Heat brought sweat to my body. Unnatural heat, radiating a sinister proclamation of death. I knew it for what it was.

'What is that?' My brother asked with desperate turns of his head.

Crestel and I met eyes. 'Monsotar is making his move,' Crestel said.

There was nowhere to run; nowhere to hide. My Ranger Guard fought in the open. We thought we had them on the wall. We were wrong. And that mistake will cost us dearly.

'Retreat!' I began to call. 'Retreat! Get away from the tree!'

They were locked in battle, unable to hear my cries. Only the nearest of the Guard heard our pleas for a retreat. They began to echo the order, but it was too late. I jumped in the middle of the battle, hoping to leverage as many lives as I can. My eyes darted to every root-wall, every corner, every Ranger Guardian I could see. My friends were nowhere to be seen. My Leucrota, my Silver Crescents, my Elren! Where were they?

I had Nocturnal's Talon in my hand in a flash, pulsating with power. Ghost Flame sprouted from the edge of the blade. 'Retreat!' I ordered one last time. My throat had grown dry, my muscles too fatigued to run away. Even the remaining members of the Thieves of the Wood felt the blistering heat that waved over the entire grove, extending out from Centaurcrass in every which way. I tried to call for Elren, but only an air-dry heave escaped my mouth instead.

Fucking godsdammit! It was far too late. I watched their faces. The impending doom as they all tried to flee. I grabbed my brother by his arm and Crestel by his cloak and slammed them both to the muddied ground. The golden sea of flame swelled at the base of Centaurcrass, hotter than a pit crater spewing its guts to the surface. Seeing the flames shoot out was like watching the Red Mountain of Vvardenfell erupt its anger out on Nirn, punishing the world for its shortcomings. Without a moment's hesitation, I plunged my sword down into the mud, allowing Ghost Flame to stretch over our world and meet the golden flames with a loud thunderous hiss. In the grey clouds, lightning crackled as the spew of red heat gave a glimpse into a scene of Oblivion. I felt the coldness of the violet flame slam against the heat of the sheer, overwhelming force of Monsotar's mighty Goldfire.

Through the deafening roar, I could only think of one thing. I could even hear it in my mind. That laugh—his laugh—echoing over and over.