Chapter Nine

Fortunes Unexpected

Waking Luna was something best done from a distance. This was something Lhara had been advised on not long after becoming a Marshal of the Moon Riders.

Luna left her door unlocked in case she had to be awoken in a hurry. Lhara knew little of her origins, but it was not a habit Luna had picked up as a Moon Rider. It came from an earlier time. Whatever she had been before, it had instilled in her the need to be ready to run or fight in a heartbeat.

The last time somebody had tried to rouse her by shaking her, they had nearly lost an eye.

Luna was asleep as Lhara entered the room, lying on her back with her hands clasped atop her stomach. Lhara had no idea how many blades were hidden around the room, but she knew that Luna kept a small knife concealed up her sleeve.

Luna did not open her eyes as Lhara inched across the threshold. 'What is it?'

Lhara was unsurprised. She might have been surprised if Luna actually slept. She seemed to survive off pure willpower and unflinching zeal. 'The second wave of scouts has returned.'

Luna did not ask what they had found. If there had been anything noteworthy to report, Lhara would have said so.

'Did you want to send out another group, Commander?'

'Yes, Lhara.' Luna sat up slowly and pulled back her white hair, tying it back into a tail. Some whispered that she had elven blood, which might have explained the unusual hue of her hair and eyes, but some also claimed that she was simply an albino. Lhara had not been so foolish as to ask Luna directly.

The last person who had spent weeks recovering from having both arms broken.

'Keep sending out scouts until I say otherwise.' Luna told her. 'And don't disturb me again unless you actually have something to report.'

'My apologies, Commander. But the scouts are becoming irritable, and our troops are restless.'

'My orders stand, Lhara.'

'Are you having trouble sleeping, Commander?'

'Feels like Drysi is prodding me awake every time I close my eyes.' Luna muttered it so quietly that Lhara barely heard it.

'Who, Commander?'

Luna shook her head. 'Somebody I used to know. See to it that the scouts and sentries are relieved when possible. Have the cooks prepare food for them. A warm meal might keep them from whining.'

Lhara nodded. 'Yes, Commander. I'll see to it at once.' She strode from the room, leaving Luna alone.

Luna swung her legs over the bed and rubbed her eyes. 'Perfect, pushy, Drysi,' she murmured sleepily. 'Sometimes I think I should have listened to you, then this would be somebody else's problem.' she chuckled to herself. 'And now I'm talking to myself. Brilliant. Now I know I'm going mad.'

The Commander of the Moon Riders stood and started to don her armour. Walking the walls might clear her head better than fitful sleep and dreams of her old life, and the ever vexing Drysi. It would also stop the troops from complaining.

Nobody dared to complain when she was around.


It should have been Vylgranox who awaited them, for the first time in millennia, he was not present when Orrak's spirit manifested in the Thunder, her avatar slumbering in a lair deep in the Shining Heights far to the south of Misrule, right on the border of the Helio Imperium.

This was not a place in the physical world. This was within the Thunder itself, the song which unified the dragons, be they Eldwurm or flesh-illusion. To them, it manifested as a space full of swirling colour of impossible hue, eddies and tumbling shades mortals had no names for.

Orrak's long, sinuous form twisted in place. Unless they were asleep, radiant dragons were rarely still. Though they lacked wings, they could remain airborne indefinitely, held aloft by a magic which was simple for them to cast. Her scales of pure gold glowed in the strange, shifting lights of the Thunder.

Instead of Vylgranox, a gargantuan hulk of a dragon armoured in violet scales awaited her. Like her, he lacked wings. When they wanted to fly, void dragons used their innate dominion over gravity to force themselves aloft. A tail with a mace-like protrusion swayed behind the dragon, and his blunt snout turned towards Orrak.

'Orrak.' Byssrak grunted by way of greeting, never one to use more words than necessary. His voice was like the grinding of boulders during a landslide.

'Greetings, Byssrak.' Orrak's voice was considerably smoother and more melodic. 'Where are the others?'

'Coming.' Byssrak rumbled. 'Or gone.'

They had known that Uldorak was dead, and that Slyrak had somehow been forced into an unhallowed bond of some kind. But Vylgranox had forbidden them from interfering. There was no official leader of the Thunder, but they all deferred to Vylgranox simply because he could render them powerless on a whim. Though they had ended his avatars, they had spared Vylgranox because he was a necessary evil: who better to keep them from killing each other?

Indrak's form materialised next, platinum scales gleaming as he appeared. He folded the wide, leathery wings which ran nearly the length of his body at his sides, crouching low. He was squat compared to Orrak and especially Byssrak, with a form made for gliding at high altitudes. He greeted Orrak and Byssrak courteously, if shortly.

After him came Lirrak, her lean form arrayed in bright sapphire scales, her long jaws equipped with shark-like teeth made for rending flesh. She splayed her wide webbed feet and flared her gills, snorting as she flapped her fins. 'We are summoned. What has befallen the Outcast?'

'Later.' Byssrak stated. 'Wait.'

Aethrak was next, swooping in. He liked to show off. He came to rest as if walking on the ground, though there was not really any "ground" here, now ungainly as he walked upon the forelimbs which supported his wings. He glanced at Lirrak, grunting softly. Lirrak ignored him, or pretended to.

Finally, after deliberately keeping them waiting for another minute, Vahdrak erupted into being, the evil-eyes on his wings flashing as he flapped them. 'Good morning, good dragons and… other things. Why so glum? Our esteemed spoilsport Vylgranox isn't here. Let's celebrate!'

Orrak glowered at him, her honey-coloured eyes narrowing. She hated Vahdrak, and he likewise hated her. As respective embodiments of order and chaos, light and dark, they were naturally opposed to one another. His attitude did not help. 'This is a serious matter, Vahdrak.'

'Ooh! Serious, she says.' Vahdrak mocked in his hissing voice. 'Always, always so serious.' He turned his angular snout towards Aethrak and Lirrak. 'Ah! Are you two still rutting? How is your bizarre, demented daughter? Still writing weird poems, is she?'

'What the Primal Mind was thinking of when it created you is a mystery to me.' Lirrak growled. 'But clearly, it erred.'

'Chaos is part of life. I'm just living life as it's meant to be lived.'

'Silence.' Byssrak ordered. Vahdrak obeyed. When Vylgranox was not around, Byssrak was perhaps the most powerful of all of them. 'Vylgranox is dead.'

Though this was not a surprise to them, it was troubling news. They had all heard Vylgranox's song trail off into nothingness, and had known that he had at last met his end.

Though they had hated and feared the Arbiter and Outcast, Eldwurm Unrecognised, he had kept order amongst them with his power. The prospect of life without him keeping them under control was worrying.

The Eldwurms had slain his avatars out of fear in the early days, until only Vylgranox himself had remained. Now it seemed as though the genocide of the aberrant dragons had been a mistake. Orrak was glad to know that she had not taken any part in that, it had been so long ago, yet that was little comfort right now.

'Then he truly has fallen?' Lirrak gurgled. 'How?'

'Unknown.' Byssrak answered simply.

'Was he slain by the same one who stole the souls of Uldorak and Slyrak?' Aethrak demanded.

'Perhaps.' Byssrak stated.

'Chaos has enveloped the country the mortals call Kestren.' Indrak boomed in his deep, resonant voice.

'Chaos? Excellent!' Vahdrak announced gleefully. 'Maybe I should go there and have some fun.'

'Be silent!' Orrak snapped.

'Somebody's tetchy today!' Vahdrak was the only one who was not troubled by the death of Vylgranox. If anything, he was delighted. Without Vylgranox to keep control, Vahdrak thought that he had free rein to indulge in his nature and sow havoc at will. 'Are we missing our predecessor again? Don't dwell on him, my shiny serpentine friend, he was a terrible bore.'

'Vahdrak,' Byssrak grated. Vahdrak fell silent at once. 'We are hunted. We must act.'

'If Vylgranox's killer is still in Kestren, we should go there.' Aethrak declared. 'I could find them.'

'No.' Byssrak disagreed. 'Too risky.'

'I know! I'll go on a rampage and kill everybody.' Vahdrak laughed. 'Then we won't need to worry about this mortal boring-dragon-slayer.'

'Even if your suggestion was remotely serious, Vahdrak,' Indrak grumbled, 'we could not survive the reprisals of every mortal nation if we attacked without discretion or logic.'

'The killer must be a Dragon Knight.' Lirrak declared. 'Who else would dare to challenge one of our kind. One of them has even announced the death of Slyrak as his ultimate goal.'

'Perhaps.' Byssrak allowed.

'Then we should destroy them once and for all!' Indrak growled.

'We should not be hasty.' Aethrak cautioned. Like the rest of his kind, he was an opportunist, not a warrior, and the idea of war troubled him. Sky dragons were not inclined to stand and fight if hurt. 'They may be irksome, but they are amongst the few who are capable of perhaps killing us.'

'I agree.' Orrak announced. 'The Order is respected by other mortal factions for culling the avatars which fall irredeemably to the Madness.'

'Like you?' Vahdrak taunted.

Orrak ignored him. Her Madness had long since passed, otherwise she would not be part of the Elder Council. 'If we attacked them, the rest of the world would make a concentrated effort to exterminate us.'

'Then we should sit on our claws and do nothing?' Indrak snarled. 'If this soul-stealer claims more of us, who knows what they will become capable of? We were created for a reason. If one were to gain our gifts and responsibilities, the consequences could be beyond disastrous.'

'Sounds exciting!' Vahdrak quipped. Nobody indulged him with a reaction, not that it would stop him from being irritating. 'Though I would prefer to remain alive, a disaster sounds intriguing.'

'We wait.' Byssrak decided. 'Slyrak is not yet lost. We wait.'

'But his soul is taken.' Lirrak recalled.

'It is still there.' Byssrak replied. 'Bound to another. We wait.'

'I don't understand,' Aethrak moved forwards, eyes narrowed. 'Vylgranox believed that the one who consumed Uldorak's soul did the same to Slyrak. Are you saying that he was wrong?'

Byssrak snorted. 'Yes.'

That gave them pause. They had all known that Vylgranox was arrogant. If he believed that he was right about something, he would not be swayed.

But though Slyrak had also been arrogant, he had been cunning too. They had all assumed that his vanquisher had taken his soul as he had Uldorak's. But if they had been wrong, if Slyrak was bonded to somebody else, then perhaps…

If Slyrak had made the covenant willingly, then he must have had a plan. Though he could not fully rejoin the Thunder, he was still connected to it.

'We wait.' Byssrak repeated. 'We wait until Slyrak's fate is known.'

'Suit yourselves.' Vahdrak hissed dismissively. 'If that's all, I'm off. I have some tasty mortals to eat. Stringy, but nice and crunchy too.' He withdrew before anybody could rebuke him.

'I might have to destroy his avatar. Again.' Orrak murmured. Though she disliked violence, that was often the only way to keep Vahdrak under control.

'See to your own, Orrak.' Byssrak ordered. 'Stay hidden. Stay safe. We must remain. Our power must be divided.'

Byssrak slowly faded, returning to his physical form. Orrak remained, pondering, her long whiskers drooping, her eyes half-lidded.

She wondered what her predecessor would have said if he was here. What answers could he have shed? It was a shame he had taken so many secrets into the shadow of death. He could have enlightened them on many matters.

It seemed that theirs were questions which would only be answered in time.


'We are running out of time.'

Once again, Davion was aware of the voice of Slyrak as he strayed between sleep and waking. He became aware of warmth against his side as his eyes opened. Worry creased his brow as he wondered about Slyrak's words.

The Eldwurm was afraid.

There was an arm draped across his chest. Marci had put her arms around him again.

She was still asleep, her face relaxed and peaceful, a smile on her face.

He had to wonder just what was happening to him, aside from the obvious harbouring of an Eldwurm's soul, a Demon seeking to end creation as they knew it, and all the rest.

What stood out was what he had decided, because it was not an everyday occurrence for him to want to settle in one place and consider a long term relationship.

For many years, Davion had never given the matter much thought. If any. Chances were that he would have ended up in a dragon's belly, and he had enjoyed his brief encounters with various women—or so he had thought.

Thinking about it now, he felt like he had been missing something. There had been no meaning to it really. He'd certainly never experienced anything like this before. If he thought about a life apart from Marci, he felt suddenly empty and depressed, lost and aimless. But if she was there, everything just seemed better. He could barely imagine life without her now.

She was on his mind almost constantly now, and not always in the way Slyrak had implied.

Marci's eyelids fluttered open, leaving him staring into her soft, pale brown eyes, distracting him from his musings.

'Awake at last.' Mirana noted. 'I didn't want to disturb you.'

Marci sat up and yawned, stretching as she did so and catching Davion's eye as usual.

Fymryn was sitting on her own by the edge of their makeshift camp, the last on watch. She was becoming more and more agitated as they closed in on their destination.

Caewyn kept trying to talk to her, but Fymryn was being evasive and kept changing the subject or found some excuse not to talk. Mirana was starting to become suspicious of the elf's behaviour now, but there was nothing to be done about it. They needed Fymryn to guide them to the sage.

Whatever secrets she was keeping would have to wait.


Mirana was riding side-saddle once again as they passed the treeline. The first thing she noticed, apart from the ache in her broken leg, was how lush and green this particular forest was. The rest of Kestren's forests had been dull by comparison.

Caewyn stopped and crouched to examine a cluster of brightly coloured flowers. She sniffed at them. 'These are nice.'

'Are they medicinal?' Mirana asked.

'No, they're just nice.'

'There is something strange about this place,' Fymryn murmured. 'I feel like we're being watched.'

Eserren slowly examined the area around them, peering between the oaks and elms. Now that Fymryn mentioned it, Mirana felt that same sensation of being observed.

It could have been simple paranoia, a reaction to Fymryn's worry. Marci took her seriously, eyes darting hither and thither, her shoulders tensed.

It made a change from her glancing at Davion.

It was now obvious to everybody just how attached they were becoming to each other. Even if they had not kissed in plain sight after defeating Vylgranox, the signs were there and Mirana was surprised that she had missed them.

Sometimes their gazes would meet, and though the contact might only last a moment it seemed to convey a great deal. They would often smile, and their smiles would linger after they looked away. If they happened to touch, and Marci used touch as a way of showing affection and trust, it would last a few moments longer than necessary. Most recently, Mirana had noted how they seemed to end up walking side-by-side, and how Marci slept close to Davion, now starting to embrace him in her sleep.

She was far less prone to suffering nightmares when she was close to him.

Mirana smothered her jealousy as quickly as she could. Marci deserved to be happy with whomever she wanted to be with, and Mirana had the love of Selmene. Not many could claim to be so favoured by a deity, especially one like Selemene.

Sagan stopped and growled. Everybody else came to a halt and readied their weapons.

Caewyn crouched, crossbow at the ready and pointing wherever she looked. Aside from Mirana, she had the sharpest eyes in the group.

There was something out there. Something large moved out of sight. Several of them.

Mirana frowned. Whatever they were, they were plainly aware of the fact that they had been noticed. That they were not immediately attacking denoted possible intelligence.

That did not mean they were out of danger. They could have been bandits waiting for the perfect opportunity.

A heavy thud sounded to the right and Mirana caught a glimpse of a large, brutish face with a wide, slightly flattened nose.

'Centaurs.' Davion whispered.

'Why aren't they attacking us?' Fymryn breathed.

'They're not unintelligent.' Caewyn lowered her crossbow slightly. 'Hello? We're not here to fight. Do you understand us?'

More movement in the undergrowth. They remained where they were, weapons at the ready. It seemed unlikely that the centaurs were afraid of them. They probably had the group outnumbered.

After another tense moment, a large centaur with a string of fangs around his neck clomped forwards, a large spiked club in his hands. Davion recognised the fangs as green drake teeth. If the scars on the centaur's bare torso were any indication, he'd plucked out those teeth himself.

'Trespassers,' the centaur grunted with a hoarse, grating voice. 'Leave.'

'We need to pass through your forest.' Eserren stated. 'We will not hurt you if you allow us through.'

'No entry. Leave.'

'All right, what's all the fuss about this time?' This voice was feminine, bright and smooth compared to the large centaur's. 'Are you picking fights again, Taug?'

At first, Mirana assumed that the new arrival was another centaur. She had a similar facial structure, large ears, horns extending from her forehead and a slightly flattened nose. But her form below the waist was not horse-like, it was deer-like instead, rust coloured and dappled with white spots, her torso covered by a green shift. Her long hair, bound into a braid, was the colour of autumn leaves and her bright blue eyes roved over the spectacle before her. 'Hmm. This is a fight you'd probably lose Taug. A green drake is one thing, but Dragon Knights are another.' she took a few steps forwards, peering intently at Mirana. 'You should turn back though. My friends don't like visitors.'

'We just want to pass through the forest.' Davion lowered his greatsword. 'We're not looking for trouble.'

'Really? I'd wager that it finds you. You all seem to be a little worse for wear.'

A brief glimpse was enough to reveal that. All of them had obvious cuts and bruises, the splint tied to Mirana's leg revealing the worst of their hurts.

The deer-like centaur considered them carefully. One hand clutched what looked like a mage's staff, bladed at both ends. 'You mean this forest no harm?'

'None whatsoever.' Eserren answered. 'You have my word as a knight.'

'I'd take her word seriously.' Davion added.

'Then lay down your arms and follow me. Your weapons will be returned when you leave.'

They all exchanged looks, knowing that they had little choice. They were surrounded and outnumbered, and there was no reason to pick a fight, not if these centaurs were willing to let them go unharmed.

Mirana leaned down and dropped her bow and dagger. The others lay aside their weapons and stepped away from them, allowing the centaurs to pick them up.

'Good. I'm glad you are reasonable people. Please follow me.'

They complied, under the watchful and mistrustful eyes of the centaurs around them. Marci slowed until she was at Mirana's side, then matched Sagan's pace. It wasn't like they could disarm her.


Led by the strange deer-centaur-woman and surrounded by the centaurs, they were led into a clearing ringed by crude mud huts framed by roughly cut branches and roofed with foliage. Colourful flowers grew around the area, some sprouting from the hut roofs.

Sagan was uneasy around the centaurs, and they were wary of him. Only the woman with the staff seemed unconcerned.

'What is your name?' Mirana asked.

'Aiushtha. And you are?'

'Mirana.'

'You're with the Dark Moon Order?'

'Yes.'

'But you keep company with Dragon Knights and one of the Coriel'Tauvi. I'd be interested to hear how that came to be, but first,' she stopped in the middle of the settlement. 'I need you to be seated on the ground. Can some of you help her down?'

The centaurs watched with interest as Davion and Marci helped Mirana off Sagan and down to the ground. Aiushtha approached, pointing her staff at Mirana's leg.

Marci let go of Mirana and moved in front of her, eyes narrowed.

'You're mistrustful. I suppose that is understandable. But if I wanted your friend harmed, I would have told Taug to attack you.' Aiushtha stated calmly. 'I'm going to heal her. If I'm lying, feel free to attack me.'

'Let her do what she has to, Marci.' Mirana instructed. Marci stepped back, but kept her eyes fixed on Aiushtha.

Tiny wisps of greenish light formed around her broken leg, flitting around it and seeping through the fabric and her skin.

Mirana winced as the spell worked, knitting her bones back together and sealing the skin. As the wisps faded, she gingerly put pressure on her leg.

Her face broke into a smile. It felt glorious to be able to walk again. 'Thank you!'

Aiushtha indicated Marci next. 'You're hurt too. You've got a gash on your shin.'

Marci waved a hand, trying to tell Aiushtha that it was nothing. They had wrapped a bandage around the cut made by the chaos dragon. It had opened at some point, but Marci had carried on without complaint. Typical, stubborn Marci.

'Let me mend it anyway. I don't want to seem like a bad host.'

Marci considered, then nodded. Aiushtha quickly sealed the wound. Davion had no need of healing. Ever since Slyrak had moved in, he had started to heal more rapidly than usual. He knew that fire dragons practically regenerated when injured, and it seemed that Slyrak did the same for him. He needed his refuge to stay intact.

As Marci examined her healed shin, Fymryn subtly caught Aiushtha's attention, indicated Marci then tapped her throat.

Aiushtha seemed to partially understand. She likely assumed that Marci had something wrong with her throat, because she moved a little closer and peered at her. 'Your friend says you've hurt your neck too.'

Marci shook her head.

'It's kind of you to suggest that, Fymryn.' Mirana said sadly. 'But we've already tried using magic. Nothing works.'

Fymryn sighed. 'I thought it was worth a try.'

Marci hesitated, then lowered her collar and exposed the scars on her throat. Aiushtha peered at them, leaning forwards and squinting. She moved her staff closer too, which began to glow faintly, then sighed and shook her head. 'I'm sorry. This is beyond my skill and my power. I… forgive me, but I don't think there's any magic which could heal you.'

Marci nodded slowly, eyes downcast as she lifted her collar up to cover the scars.

'Is this your home?' Davion asked, trying to change the subject.

'No. I'm just visiting.' Aiushtha answered. 'I'm pleased that you didn't attack these centaurs on sight like so many others would. They are my friends.'

'Are you a centaur too?' Caewyn asked eagerly.

'Caewyn.' Eserren murmured in warning.

Aiushtha did not answer the question. 'I'll guide you out of the woods. I know the safest path. All I ask is that you do not harm anything here,' she eyed Caewyn keenly, 'and that includes picking flowers.'

Caewyn snatched her hand away from a ruby bloom. 'Sorry.'

Aiushtha jerked her head towards the forest, pawing at the ground with her hooves. 'As much as I would like to talk to you, Taug would probably like you gone as soon as possible. He's wary of strangers, as are his kin. Come with me. We'll talk on the way out. I sense that you've all been through an interesting journey.' Her eyes glittered with curiosity as they gathered up their belongings. 'I'm keen to hear all about it.'


Before…

Filomena was growing up so quickly. Sometimes it seemed like little more than a heartbeat since she had entered the world, a tiny baby with a surprisingly loud cry for one so small.

But Kael never minded heeding her cries. Though Selemene had her duty to Mene to fulfil, he was glad to be at Filomena's beck and call.

She was almost Selemene in miniature, with snow-white hair and delicate features. Her face was a little rounder, perhaps, and she had Kael's eyes rather than Selemene's. Like her mother, she was a devout follower of Mene, and like her father, she was hungry for knowledge.

She also loved the small joys of life. A bird singing in the valley, a flower blooming, sunlight peeking through clouds, all of these things brought a smile to her face, and her joy made Kael smile too. The world was a brighter place simply because she was part of it, and he would do everything in his power to make sure she remained happy.

The enchanted garden Kael had created was her favourite place. "The Endless Garden", that was what she called it. For all intents and purposes, it was a safe haven. It was not an illusion, it was a space between, a plane of its own isolated and unchanging save by Kael's command. It was not "endless" due to an illusion, though it appeared to be. Walk to the very edge, and you would be transported to the opposite side.

Simply because Filomena loved it, it had become one of Kael's favourite places too. He had first created it for Selemene, though it was now more frequently visited by Filomena.

'You really don't mind having her here?'

Kael looked over at Selemene, surprised. 'Of course not. She's a delight to be around.'

Filomena was wandering amongst the flowers, a wreath of them in her long hair. She could pick flowers here without feeling guilty, since they grew back instantly when plucked. It was all an utterly convincing illusion, though knowing this did not dampen Filomena's love of the place.

"It's the best kind of magic." She had said. "And even if it isn't real, it's still beautiful."

Kael had no doubt that Filomena would develop a natural aptitude for magic, as he had. But he knew that she would likely be the safest mage in the world. She had a gentle heart, and there was no malice in her whatsoever.

'She just wishes you could be here more often.' Kael said. 'So do I.'

Selemene sighed. 'I know. I wish I could too. But Mene has need of me. I have to perform my duties as High Priestess.'

'Of course. I understand.'

Selemene was silent, her eyes downcast. She had become more distant as of late, and Kael was concerned. She had been overjoyed in those early days, just after giving birth to their beloved Filomena. But when she had returned to the Nightsilver Woods, things had changed.

As with any deity, there were those who opposed Mene, or at least those She saw as enemies. Chief amongst them were the people who followed the self-proclaimed Prince of the Sun, who had appeared in the warm lands of the continent to the south with the intent of founding an empire.

Mene was marshalling Her forces for war. She was also keen to eradicate any local opposition and suppress heresy within Her own lands.

'This Prince of the Sun,' Selemene murmured, deep in thought even as she spoke, 'I don't think he's as terrible a threat as Mene thinks he is. He hasn't spoken out against Her, or made any move to challenge Her.'

'It would be best not to question Her. You are her High Priestess. With unrest growing, Mene has need of unity within Her own ranks.'

'I know, Kael, and I am loyal to Her. I'm just afraid of what a war might cost us.' Selemene responded. 'What if we create more enemies? What if we lose?'

'You won't. We won't.'

'Mama! Papa!' Filomena skipped over, beaming widely, her eyes full of joy. 'There are butterflies amongst the roses. Come and see!'

'Butterflies?' Kael repeated. 'I don't remember conjuring any.' His frown lifted as he noticed Filomena's smile grow even wider. She was bouncing with excitement, and he could guess why. 'Wait, did you create them?'

'Yes! Yes, I did, Papa!' Filomena squeaked excitedly, taking their hands and tugging insistently. 'Come and see! They're so pretty!'

For Filomena to be able to do that at such a young age, with so little training and no foci… that was amazing.

As Filomena led them to her creation, Kael knew that in some way she was going to help change the world.

How he longed for that day.


The silver eagle of Candoness glowed upon the blue banners as the army pushed on into Kestren. There was no sign of the enemy, which did not bode well. If they had taken Trestaine, it would be that much harder to push them out and claim the region for Candoness.

General Heimgard called for a halt not far from the eyesore known as the Yawning Maw. Perhaps that quarry could be put to use once again when the country was under stable control.

He wanted to push on, but his men needed to rest. Many of the soldiers simply wanted to return home, despite the great honour of serving in the armies of Candoness.

Heimgard leaned on the table in his personal tent, peering intently at the city of Trestaine on his map. He would take it one way or another. They had the means to construct trebuchets and catapults, and the army could easily cut off all routes in and out of the city. It was whether they wanted to take the city by force or starve the enemy out which would determine how long it took, and how many casualties they suffered.

In a siege, the defenders would always hold the initial advantage simply because they held a fortified position. Logic dictated starving them out, but the King wanted Kestren taken sooner rather than later.

'General?'

Heimgard looked up from his map, annoyed to be disturbed from his planning. 'What is it, soldier?'

'The sentries have brought a stranger into the camp. He wears the colours of the Royal Army of Kestren, and he says that he wishes to speak with you.'

'Did he raise a challenge?'

'No, General. He handed over his weapons without trouble.' The soldier hesitated. 'Forgive me, General, but something about him seems… wrong. Men feel afraid near him.'

Heimgard huffed and straightened up. 'No doubt he wishes to discuss terms of surrender and debate turning this country into a vassal of Candoness. Send him in.'

The soldier saluted, then ushered in a man wearing the dull grey livery of a Kestren soldier. He was cloaked, and kept his hood up and his head bowed as he entered.

Heimgard bit back his annoyance. It was impolite of the man to hide his face in the presence of a nobleman such as he. 'I am told that you wish to speak with me. Well? What is it that you have to say? As you can no doubt see, my army is superior to whatever forces you have available.'

'Yes, I can see that, General Heimgard.' The soldier's voice was cold and almost mocking, and Heimgard did not recall mentioning his name to the stranger. 'It is impressive. Most impressive. But I think it should face a more challenging foe.'

Heimgard frowned. 'You are not here to discuss terms of surrender?'

The soldier chuckled, a sound which nearly froze Heimgard's blood. 'Kestren is a poor prize compared to what I seek, General.'

Heimgard tensed, resting one hand on the pommel of his longsword.

'Your standing has been eroded in recent battles, General. Ever since you were forced to withdraw from the Ruelands, some have questioned whether you should continue to lead the armies of such a great nation.'

Heimgard scowled and felt his ire rise. 'I will not be insulted by the likes of you!'

'I am merely stating facts, General.' The soldier's smile was just visible in the shadows cast by his hood. It further chilled Heimgard's blood. 'I could provide you with a greater victory, and even greater standing. You could become the greatest General the world has ever known, and all would speak your name with awe. You could lead the greatest host ever seen and ever known, surpassed by none and unstoppable. You would make your King proud.

And perhaps, one day, you yourself may become King in turn, perhaps more than that.'

Heimgard felt the hand on his sword relax. The soldier's every word, though cold and chilling, reached deep into his soul and stoked the embers of his deepest, most secret and impossible desires. Yes, he did deserve better. What had happened in the Ruelands should not be held against him. He was the commander of the greatest army in the world, unless one counted the Legions of the Helio Imperium. Oh, how he would have loved to have beaten them into submission and prove himself the greatest leader of the greatest army of the greatest nation in the world.

It would be glorious.

'All you have to do is… let me in.'

Let me in. Let me in. Let me in.

Do it. Do it. Do it.

Heimgard's logic was screaming at him, telling him that this was impossible, that this was an offer he should refuse. But his reason had crumbled away, eroded by the lingering humiliation of his defeat and the offer of impossible dreams made reality.

Yes, it could be so. He deserved better.

Pride was Heimgard's undoing, and it would be the undoing of his army too. Perhaps he would be leading a great host, but it would be temporary, and his soul was the price.

The soldier looked up at Heimgard nodded, pulling back his hood.

The bright emerald voids which stared back at Heimgard could only be described as pure evil, and the cold smile which warped the vessel's face was an expression which brought only terror to those still possessed of reason.

Heimgard had no time to reconsider the offer. Terrorblade forced the vessel's mouth open and his essence shot forth into Heimgard. His weak soul was but another appetiser, puny compared to the soul of Uldorak, but still worth taking.

Terrorblade tested Heimgard's limbs, acclimatising to the new body as his previous victim lay twitching upon the ground, dead and useless. No matter, the Direstone would take care of that.

Terrorblade took up Heimgard's ornate helm and pulled it on, lowering the visor and tilting his head so that his eyes could not be easily seen. 'Guard!'

'General?' The soldier looked in, his eyes widening with shock as he looked upon the dead Kestren soldier.

'Gather the troops.' Terrorblade instructed. 'I have new orders for them.'


I have some new beasts to throw into the story, courtesy of an idea sent my way by Unazaki—you have my thanks for that. It'll be a big help with some upcoming battles. If you liked AU Vahdrak, you can also thank Unazaki for that. Somewhere in our discussions, he got compared to the Joker, and so he had to be at least a little bit like him. On the subject of armies, the flag of Candoness is head-canon.

In this AU, radiant dragons are based on Asian dragons rather than European ones (Slyrak is the latter). I don't know why, but that's how they appeared in my head when I was planning this. Furthermore, whilst radiant dragons can effectively levitate, Marci can't.

Now, I haven't put in any specifics of time when it comes to the Invoker's flashbacks for a simple reason: it's all a very long time ago. According to my research, the Invoker is effectively immortal, and obviously Selemene is too. Most of his flashbacks are set long before the beginning of the story.