Elijah - 7. Chapter 7: The Black Dawn.

“Their trust is yet to be shown, Rodef.” The woman who had accosted us at the bridge strode onto the flight deck. Her shoulder was bandaged, but otherwise, she showed no sign of her injury. Caleb regarded her for a moment, and then turned to stare out onto the Venz barrens. The ship shifted and accelerated, moving upward and forward.

Rodef turned to face the woman. “Seline, please.” He then spoke swiftly to her in their whimsical language. I glanced at Braden, who merely shrugged. I wandered near one of the large windows. It was a crystal plate, which rippled but showed the landscape over which we were flying. I could not tell if it were a window or some sort of television.

“I remember a few months back, during the so-called war, we captured one of these ships.” Braden stood next to me; his hand touched the image of the rolling barrens passing beneath us. The craft was now moving very quickly. The image rippled, like water. “We had no idea this technology existed.”

“They are far more advanced than we are,” I breathed. My hand rested upon his, my fingers stretching forward to touch the rippling screen.

“Yet they do not seem it…” I glanced back at Rodef and Seline; they spoke quietly together. Caleb stood, arms folded, near another screen watching the landscape as the barren waste began to show spots of foliage, emerald oases spotting the desert landscape. “They are ancient and we are at their mercy, Jeremy…” Braden sighed, as if he knew it would come to this. “Just be prepared for anything; as I said the other night: just be prepared.” I nodded and watched the landscape roll by.

“Even if they are going to help, we cannot benefit from their magic; it is forbidden,” I said, as if Braden did not know this already.

“We need all the help we can get.”

“Children of Elijah, come.” Rodef waved us over. Seline had left the flight deck. We gathered near Rodef. He stood and gestured toward the screens that encircled the flight deck. “I welcome you to Gorsk, our home.” We followed his gesture with our eyes. The craft had descended, and now rushed across the golden sand. It soared over a chasm that was not a chasm but a gigantic valley that stretched beyond the power of the screens. Here, an enormous waterfall cascaded into a misty darkness. There, spires of stone and dirt rose high into the sky, natural towers on which buildings perched. Torrents of water poured from holes in the earthen columns.

The entire city was made of thousands of towers, crystal spires; it was beautiful.

“Is this were your leaders reside?” Caleb asked.

“Yes, Prince Caleb, only here. Our other settlements are not as large as Gorsk.” Craft similar to ours floated randomly past; below, near the water, other ships were docked, ships three hundred times the size of the one we were presently on.

“How high can your ships travel?”

“We can travel past the curve of the sky, were the darkness comes and the air becomes nothing, then our magic fails…” Rodef shrugged.

“Have you explored lands beyond Venz?”

“Yes,” Rodef replied. We changed direction as we neared a landing site. The ship turned, and touched down. A loud droning sound echoed across the flight deck; one of the screens rippled and pulled away, swirling outward. As it opened, it became a doorway that led to the landing pad. It was as if the ship were alive. Rodef smiled, gesturing for us to disembark.

We exited the ship and walked onto a large balcony on which several attendants stood. People, dressed like Rodef with makeup and vibrant ribbons, stood about. One strode forward; it was a tall woman.

“Brother, welcome, you have brought them.” She turned to the three of us while Rodef dipped in a deep bow.

“Yes, High Sister; they are to see Mother, with haste.” The woman who we now knew to be Rodef’s sister nodded, waving him off. Rodef stood and stepped to the side.

“They said you would come…. Finally,” she sighed. Her makeup was feminine compared to Rodef’s. His resembled elegant war paint; hers was just beautiful.

“Who said we would come?” I asked. The High Sister looked down at me; she seemed to be furious.

“I did not invite you to speak, boy…” she began.

Caleb stepped between us and looked up at her.

“I’m aware that breasts and all that accompanies them rule this country; however, we are guests. We will be courteous, High Sister.” He paused. “However, we will speak freely, as we came of our own will for the betterment not only of ourselves, but also of you.” She glared at Caleb, sizing him up.

“Follow me,” she said, at last. We followed, and the large procession of attendants came behind us, with Rodef in the rear. The tower we entered was lavish, yet with a sense of simplicity. Tapestries rippled in the cool breeze that drifted or whipped through the many open windows. The armored creatures with the masks stood silently in corners and at doorways; chills ran down my spine every time we went past them.

I kept close to Braden and Caleb as we walked in silence, following the High Sister. When we reached a gigantic archway, the attendants behind us fell to their knees and kissed the floor. Rodef stepped around them and went past us. The High Sister beckoned us forward.

We passed through the archway and into a gigantic room. At one end, a small, raised platform held a throne. Behind it I saw the open air and the grand waterfall we had seen as we approached the city. People stood here and there, chattering and whispering. Each was dressed more uniquely and crazier than the last. Rodef and the High Sister bowed to the figure seated on the throne. It was garbed in cloth of gold. It had flowing red hair and wore a mask of pure gold.

Braden bowed briefly, as did Caleb and I. The figure in the throne rose and glided down the stairs. The mask tilted and a voice told us to rise

“The three…” the voice behind the mask was not muffled; it was perfectly clear, aged and wise. A strong female. It reminded me of the creature in the basement. I tried to push those thoughts aside.

“We have come to seek aid, for our king is dead,” Caleb intoned, stepping forward. The figure draped in gold did not move; the nod from the mask was brief.

“We know.”

“How?”

“Prophecy, young prince, prophecy. As Elijah is your prophet, so also is he ours. The great Synthril was one of his disciples! Our Seers spoke of your arrival… your plea to us…” There seemed to be laughter in those words. “They wage war against us…. Yet seek our help?” She called out to the throne room; laughter was heard. Mocking laughter.

“Our throne was taken and not by our own; foreign power has inserted itself… the one who rules now is no more than a weak youth, controlled,” Caleb growled. “We must know who controls him. What have your Seers seen?” He asked.

“Ah, Prince of Elijah, they have seen only your arrival; from this point everything is darkness.” She sounded disappointed.

“Matriarch Mother,” Braden said, “We seek your help, for something threatens us and you. If David is pushed hard enough he will do more than merely threaten war, and then, we will destroy each other. It is not needed, we sought peace…”

“Yet you put the burden on us!” She roared, her voice almost silencing the echo of the falls.

“I saw a symbol in Westfield, maybe that will help,” I said. Caleb shot me a dirty look; Braden turned.

“We cannot bother the Mother with this,” Braden whispered.

“Silence, boy. What did you say? A symbol, show me…” She gestured with a gloved hand; sand swirled and formed below my feet. “Draw.” I knelt and began to draw from memory the sun rising over a jagged horizon.

“That; however it was darker,” I said. She leaned down, her garments fluttering outward.

She said something, deep, in another language, and then shouted strings of orders. Attendants rushed about and Rodef stepped forward.

“Mother…what…” He glanced at the symbol, and then to me. “Are you certain? For if it is this, then we must take action. The Seers did not foresee this. My Mother summons the Seers now.”

“Move, children, move…” the Matriarch shooed us away, hunching over the sand now, touching it lightly, whispering. I heard chains rattling. Two armored Rifters escorted three women dressed in white garments into the throne room. The women stumbled often; chains held their feet together.

One had a yellow bandage over her eyes. Another had a bandage around her mouth; the other had one about her neck. Odd.

The Matriarch beckoned them over. “Seers, look at this symbol, look hard and tell us what you see.” The woman with the ribbon about her neck stumbled forward and fell, pressing her hands into the sand, moaning and massaging the sand.

“It is … dark… they come… “

“For Elijah…” the one with her eyes covered moaned. The third shivered. Her mouth was closed by the bandage; however, her eyes rolled back. I moved closer to Braden, gripping him, hiding behind him, almost.

“Who?” The Mother of Venz asked.

“The Black Dawn…” It was echoed into the throne room. A hush fell.

“Who leads them?”

“Melvesia!” The other cried, and began to weep. “Melvesia, tainted…. shadows…Melvesia… one of the twelve….”

“Get them out of my sight,” the golden masked leader ordered. She sighed as the women were dragged away.

“What now, Matriarch?” Caleb asked, “If it is the Black Dawn, we must make haste.”

“Yes, we must put aside petty differences. We must reclaim your throne with haste before the Dawn marches upon it. What of him?” She pointed to me. Caleb glanced at me, then to Braden, then back to the matriarch.

“He does not know the full details; we can speak in private later.”

“Did you not hear, Prince of Elijah? They spoke the name of a Black Prophet. Our time is far shorter than I thought. If the Prophet…” the matriarch began. Caleb held up his hand.

“I shall speak plainly. The Black Dawn has already tried to raise one of the Prophets. We sent a team months ago to disrupt the summoning process. We succeeded; however, we were unaware that the Prophet Melvesia had been awakened.”

“We must call upon the Twelve of Elijah, himself, then,” the mother intoned.

“We cannot; we do not know their resting places,” Braden offered.

The Matriarch stood silently for a moment. “Then what must we do? We cannot lay waste to Prophet Melvesia.”

“We must re-take the throne of Elijah and place on it a pure heir; then may we to push back this Black Dawn,” Caleb said. “As you have Seers, we have the Book of Sorj; it, too, foretells these events. It happened sooner than we expected, else we would be here with our king now, asking for your assistance. The country is wounded and the cancer now moves upon our throne,” Caleb said. His sincerity was palpable.

“You suggest we retake your throne, now?”

“Yes, however in a subtle fashion. We cannot simply march there,” Braden, said. “We will relieve David of his crown; then, we can reinstate the country, and then rid ourselves of the Black Dawn.” He nodded confidently. “We can speak later, great Mother; at present, we must rest.”

“Yes, yes…” she waved Rodef over. She then pulled Caleb aside, put the mask near his ear, and whispered to him. Braden grabbed me and I looked at Caleb wondering: the country would be lost? What was going on?

“Braden, what is going on?” I asked as we followed Rodef from the throne room.

“I will explain later; I suppose you might as well know.” I nodded, noting the firm looks on Braden’s face.

Rodef showed us to chambers near the throne room. They were simple. I went to the bed and sat. Braden joined me.

“It was all planned,” he said.

“What?”

“You, everything. Planned.”

I stared at him, unsure really what to say. “Where is my family?”

“Your brother is safe, your mother is captive, and your father I do not know.”

“What lies have you told me? What have you not told me? I stood up, rage filling me, I wanted to punch him.

“We planned it; the lottery was rigged. Your father knew. It was for your protection; we could get to you easier without them knowing.”

“Them? Who? Who is what? Why? I want to just… not have anything to do with this anymore. You whisk me away, make me drink liquor and wear expensive things and bow to people I don’t know and wonder this and that… you drag me half across the country and then into another country. What the hell do you want me to think?” I yelled it, all of it.

“I want you to trust me. To trust Caleb and me. That’s all I ask. You are important; we are all important, and we must serve Elijah, even if it means our death.” Braden collapsed on the bed. “I must rest, as should you.”

I nodded, my head buzzing with questions, unanswered pleas, and confusion. I fell back, hitting the plus pillows. Braden lay next to me. I turned over and threw my arm over him, shoving my head between his shoulder and the sheets. I drifted into sleep.

The rattling of chains forced me to crack open my eyes. I drifted off into a midnight slumber once more until the sound of chains dragging along the stone floors forced me to sit upright. I looked at Braden, sleeping soundly next to me. I slid off the bed and went through my jacket, finding my pistol. I grabbed for the dagger, but decided felt it would be useless. I heard the rattling again, outside the door.

Night in Venz was dense, like ink. Clouds covered the moon, bathing the upper sky in an, odd, faint glow. I went to the door with the pistol firmly in my hand. I glanced back at Braden; he would understand. I moved into the hallway reluctantly; my skin was crawling. The hallway was an empty shaft, lit only by dull light flowing through slits along the walls. I was thoroughly terrified.

The chains rattled once more. I looked toward the sound; it was above me. My breathing became erratic. I looked up, and saw, crawling on the walls one of the Seers. She crawled slowly, with jerking moves. It was the one whose eyes were bandaged. Despite the bandage, she seemed to be looking at me. A hideous smile formed on her pale face; rotting, disgusting teeth showed between her parted lips. I aimed the pistol at her and she was gone.

“I mean you no harm…” she moaned; now she was behind me. I felt her breath. I whirled around, stumbled back, and landed on the cold floor. I used my heels to push myself back against the wall. As I slid away from her, she moved closer to me. “Listen….boy…listen…” She halts and brings her hand to her ear and tilts her head to the ceiling. “Listen…” Her breathing stops, the chains wrapped about her legs and arms are broken, there are bloodstains. My eyes go wide, but I listen. I hear nothing.

“What?”

“Listen…. Can’t you hear them? They are coming! In shadow and twilight, they move, a raging storm…for you.” A slender finger points to me.

“Why?” I ask.

“You are the Speaker.” Another Seer appeared behind me. I jumped up, holding the gun tight in my grip, backing to the wall as the two Seers slowly slid closer to me. “The Herald, the Speaker, the Voice, you can see.” I gazed into her milky eyes. “You can see past, present and future… you speak His words…”

“Elijahhh…” the other breathed.

“Do you want to see again?” I was asked.

I glanced back and forth; sweat beaded on my brow, “Yes…” I whispered. I felt hands on my throat, squeezing; the milky-eyed one’s grip was tight and I began to struggle. The gun dropped with a metallic clang. I struggled, my head swam, I gripped her pale, slimy arms, and my eyes begged her to stop. She just smiled. Then nothing.

I stand in a dark room. It is large; I can feel how large it is. Torches flicker against the wall, casting an odd shadowy light. I feel my neck for a moment, trying to slow my breathing. Everything feels real: my bare feet against the stone, the draft in the dark chamber.

In the center, robed figures stand in a circle, surrounding something. I go closer to see; my movements are fluid. I wade through the vision toward the figures. Their cowls are pulled close to cover their faces, hands are held to their chests as if in prayer. I can hear the hum of words, chanting. As I near, the words become louder, a pressure builds at my temples. I stop to rub them, but it does not help. They continue their chant and I glide around the circle; they are unaware I am here.

I near one of the robed figures; I count them, and there are twelve. My eyes go to the center of the circle. There, I see the symbol I had seen burned into my parent’s bedroom door; it is larger, bronzed. The chanting becomes louder; the language is ancient, the tongue that Venz spoke, or similar. One of the dark clad chanters bends down slowly to pick up a glass vial filled with crimson liquid. It takes off the stopper declares something in the language in which the others continue to chant and then tilts the vial over the symbol. The liquid within splashes densely. It is blood.

It seeps into the crevasses and gaps of the symbol, and slowly the sun begins to rotate with a grating, mechanical sound. The robed figure then smashes the vial atop the rotating sun. It holds out rough hands and raises its voice so that it sounds above all the others. The glass shards rise into the air, swirling; their reflective surface begins to toss around glittering light as the shards spin above the symbol.

I move closer, I can hear whispers, I kneel down, putting my ear to the ground, and the whispers become louder. Thousands of voices, moaning, crying, calling out. One, however, is louder than the others. Icy, chilling, it runs through me instantly. There is a burst of air, sending their robes swirling around them. I stumble backward as the rotating glass begins to swirl quicker, casting prismatic light that penetrates the darkness.

The chanting rises to a crescendo and the grating sound halts; the chanting stops, suddenly. The glass falls with echoing clinks to the stone floor.

“It is done,” a deep voice declares.

I feel the end; dread fills the room. I move farther backward. The symbol begins to rotate once more; an opening appears in the stone floor. The symbol disappears; a gaping black hole remains. The whispers become louder. The robed figures back away, their cowled heads dipping lower as if in respect.

Darkness flows from the hole and grips the room. It swirls, froths like sea foam, and then vanishes. It creeps out farther, like a mist, an inky darkness that seems to breathe. A storm rages within the shadow; it plumes higher, forming a small vortex. The black enchanters do not move; they gaze through a dark veil into even darker shadow. The inky darkness settles, forming into the semblance of a body or a swirling robe. I cannot see well enough, it is too dark. I can see the glint of a mask. A low hiss settles over the room and the chanters fall to their knees.

I see it swirling, standing, in the center of the chamber, near the gaping, dark hole. It is the creature from the basement. The mask looks around the circle slowly and then stops; the shadows swirl near one of the robed chanters, nipping at the cloak hem. Suddenly the dark it rushes forward; shadows engulf the man. His screams and strangled shouts fill the chamber. The shadow is gone; the man’s body convulses for a moment, then nothing.

The dark figure takes on form; it is a person in a black robe. Slender hands pull the cowl down to reveal a young face, but one on which a deep scar runs from the eye to the mouth. The eyes smolder a deep charcoal. Holding up the hand, the youth it seems to observe, then smiles.

“Perfect.” The voice is like winter, “You have all done well this day.” The voice was a thousand voices, yet one always stood out. “Rise.” And the eleven did.

“What do you will now, Great Prophet?” one asked.

“We must begin immediately.” The pale youth turns to face the others, walking slowly between them. I can see them tense as he moves past, shadows still licking at the hem of his cloak; the light is sucked away as he nears. He stops and looks in my direction.

My heart jumps, I breathe, I gasp. I feel my breath leaving me, life leaving me. Can he see me? How? Impossible. No. I try to scream, but I cannot. He looks away and the vision drifts away into shadow.

I am standing in the light. The sun blazes down; however there is shade. It is a beautiful garden. The trickling of fountains captures my attention. I squint, trying to protect my eyes from the changing light.

I turn to see the ocean stretching to the horizon. I look back to see great towers of stone and masonry. It is Damascus. Voices pull my attention and I go near them. In the center of the garden is a table; at the head is the youth in my earlier, more pleasant dreams. He sits in a chair, looking troubled. The same people I had seen before, but had not remembered until now, occupy the twelve other chairs.

“What do you propose then, Synthril?” a male voice asks. I approach; however, I hide behind a column of marble, unsure if they can see me.

A woman speaks. “I have taught my people well enough the ways of magic; we may help. Let us help you quell this danger.” She looks toward the youth whose troubled eyes stare down at the wooden table. The look in his eyes makes me feel that there is nothing to hope for. He glances up and I try to remember the face or a name to attach to it, but nothing comes. I try so hard to remember; but I always forget.

“We cannot, Synthril.” He leans forward. “It will only turn us evil.”

“But I can control it…we can…I assure you Prophet, please trust me…”

“Synthril, my trust has always been with you, with all of you; yet these men…” he seems angered now. “These men who I once called friends bring corruption to my land!” His fist slams into the wooden table. The ocean below rages for a moment, clouds swirl in the sky, and then calm descends. “It is a last resort.”

“May I propose something, Prophet?”

“You may, Uriel.”

“Let us implore Synthril and her kin to assist us. Once and never again.” The youth listens intently to Uriel. “She may continue her ways to the north, however here, within your country, my Prophet, we may implore the use of magic once to save.”

There are murmurs at the table; an agreement is made.

“This I shall do,” the beautiful Synthril said. I approached the table to listen. “It is for the best, Prophet; then I shall teach my people the good ways of magic so that it shall never waylay our minds to impose clouded judgment.”

“Then it is done. Synthril, gather your most competent mystics, we must set to rest these twelve, it must be done.” He pauses. “Seal them away, deep in the ground to where they can never rot our land again.”

“And so it is written…” one says and the others echo this, then everything rushes away in inky darkness.

I stand in the throne room, the Seat of Elijah. It is empty, save for David, sitting rigidly on the throne. He looks gaunt, exhausted. Pale hands grip the armrests; the crown is on the marble platform, not upon his head. It has been cast aside, blood still cakes the leaves.

“He is troubled,” a voice says. It is young; the youth with tousled hair joins me.

“He looks sad,” I said.

“He knows his error, but he cannot undo it now.” I can see the darkness swirling in the vaults of the throne room, the coursing evil, suggesting, plotting, lying to David. I can hear the whispers.

“Can they see us?”

“No, I make it so. The Black Prophet cannot undermine my word.”

“Then why don’t you help us?” I plead. I turn to face him.

“I cannot, for I am gone. You are my hand, Jeremy…” The moment he speaks my name, I remember, but then it flashes away in a moment. My heart swells; I am filled with courage endless. “Only can the darkness be removed by a pure king of Elijah. I did not build this kingdom upon greed and exploits,” the youth intones. I listen, taking everything in. “You must kill David, Jeremy.” A finger points to me. “You must. The wicked brothers will fight, but they must not slay each other. To spill a brother’s blood upon the floor of the Seat is a great sin.”

“Caleb? He will try to kill David?” There is a nod.

“His heart is righteous and his ways are just.”

“What about the others, Lidia? Braden? Rodef?” The youth looks to me, a gentle hand rests upon my cheek. I can feel the skin upon mine.

“Trust those whom you wish to trust. The Children of Synthril are a noble people; their power is beyond your knowledge and imagination. Keep them close. Retake my throne so the era of my people does not abruptly end with hatred and war.” He smiles and turns away.

I look back to David, still sitting in the throne staring at the marble floor. He is deep in contemplation. It all drips away into darkness.

I was in the cold night, slouched against the wall of the hallway outside my room. The Seers were gone. I sighed deeply; despite the chill, sweat poured from my brow. I searched around for the pistol. Finding it, I stood to slowly walk back to my room.

I slipped through the door, and found Braden still sleeping. I shoved the pistol into my undergarments and sat on the edge of the bed, my head falling to my palms. What was I to do? I turned to look at Braden, sleeping soundly. What did he dream about? Did prophets and darkness come to him? Was it my obligation to tell them? My duty to the country?

I would not. I would help them silently, as the man in my dreams instructed. Retake the throne of Elijah. I would retake the throne of Elijah. Everything else happened for a reason. As Braden had said: it was all planned.

Caleb’s voice entered my brain: “Chance has not existed in Elijah for centuries.” They controlled everything. Their country, their rules. They decided who would die prematurely, who would live on, rich or poor. It was my country, it was our country, it was built for us and we will save it. I tried to fall asleep, hoping I would dream of that young man again so I could ask more questions. I needed more direction; I was lost without a lantern in impenetrable darkness. But I could not sleep.

I sat on the bed for hours. I did not keep track of time, but stared at the floor, waiting for a revelation. Was my purpose greater than this? I was to kill David and retake the throne. Not Caleb, not Braden. It was I! I was going to save Elijah. My eyes looked weary and as the sun rose, bathing the room in a soft orange light, I could feel the heat of the day begin.

Braden stirred, sitting up slowly. “You’re up?”

“Just thinking.”

“Oh…” He fell back to the sheets, stretching. I saw the dagger on the ground near our discarded clothing. I leaned over to pick it up, rolling it through my hands, feeling the cold steel. Did they know? They couldn’t know. They can’t know. None of them knew Elijah spoke through me. I was going to save the country.

“How did you sleep?” Braden asked.

“All right.” The bags under my eyes gave lie to this, but Braden said nothing. He rose from the bed and began to straighten his clothing, throwing on a jacket.

“We need to get going; we should be returning to Cathedral soon.” I nodded and began to collect our things. I felt drained.

Braden brushed past me and out the door. I followed reluctantly. I could see that the royal palace of Gorsk was already bustling. Attendants wandered about. The only thing that concerned me was the lack of protection; there were no guards, even the ones I could not easily see. We made our way back to the throne room. Caleb was there already, exchanging words with Rodef. They saw us enter, and cut off their conversation to join us.

“Well, we shall leave today and make our way to Cathedral,” Rodef said. He glanced at me for a moment. “It will be a small group, you three, Seline, and me.”

“Lidia is going to meet us outside the Cathedral block,” Caleb added. “I have a feeling David has made the place a fortress.”

“How can we get into Elijahan airspace? Won’t he have the skies watched? If these Black Dawn fools are making their way to the throne, unless they are already there…” Braden said. “We will need to fight through double defenses just to get to the Seat.”

“We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” Rodef said.

They all agreed. I said nothing. Caleb looked at me. He was dressed in mail armor, with gray tassels. He was prepared for battle. I looked to Rodef; he was dressed in a flowing garment of ribbons—what he had worn the day of the Peace Conference.

“Did you have something to add, Jeremy?” Caleb regarded me.

“Uh… I…. This Melvesia, who is it?” I asked. Rodef looked to Braden and Caleb as if for confirmation, “You don’t need their stupid approval,” I growled. “They have my mother so who the hell is this Melvesia thing?” Rodef looked at me with blank eyes; Caleb turned away and Braden shifted where he stood. “Tell me!” I shouted, my voice echoing into the throne room.

“Melvesia is the fifth Black Prophet,” Rodef explained. “There is not much we know, he is very powerful, we know this. The Black Dawn figures… he is one of their saviors and they follow him to the Seat of Elijah.” Rodef shrugged. “There is not much we know.”

So I knew more than they did. This Black Prophet was controlling David, I was sure of it. “When do we leave?” I asked, invigorated by my outburst, I wanted to finish this now. I wanted my family back.

“Soon. Come.” Rodef motioned us out of the throne room and to another room filled with suits of armor and weapons such as I had never seen before. An armory. He gave me mail armor that fitted me as I put it on, tightening or loosening itself, as necessary; it was incredibly lightweight. Braden also took armor. I secured my dagger. “The ship awaits.” Rodef led us out of the armory. Braden and Caleb spoke together quietly, but I ignored them. I knew my place now. They meant nothing anymore. I was ready.

We returned to the balcony on which we had arrived; the floating craft was waiting, shimmering in the rising sun. I had never gotten a chance to look at it closely. It flickered and shimmered like liquid, sleek like crystals shoved together. Rodef walked near it, waved his hand and the air rippled; he walked through and vanished. I followed, as did Braden and Caleb.

We found ourselves on the flight deck; Rodef sat in the large seat. Seline was already seated near one of the floating crystals, muttering and running her fingers across the smooth, glittering surface. I stood near one of the rippling screens, Caleb stood by Rodef; Braden wandered near me. The ship began to hum and I felt it come to life, as if it had been sleeping; the magic rolling within shook my bones.

“Are you ready?” Braden asked.

“Yes, of course.” I didn’t bother to look at him. The ship pulled back from the balcony and we began to soar upward, around the towering tops of Gorsk, swinging out over the massive waterfalls.

“You must be prepared…” I looked at him, and laughed.

“Shut up.”

“What?” He seemed offended, “How dare…”

“How dare you?” I said it as calmly as I could, and quietly.

“I am a duke…”

“Don’t drop your stupid titles on me, Braden. I’ve had my share of it already. How dare you?” I turned and shoved my finger into his face. “How dare you take me from my family? How dare you force me to do all this? How dare you not tell me anything? How dare you?”

“It was only for the better,” he defended. “We did not think…”

“No! I’m a big boy; I can figure things out for myself. Yes, use me to get your precious throne back, but by gods, if I don’t see my family in one piece, Braden Extollere, I will kill you.” He stared at me.

“I will.”

I leaned closer. “I will kill you. That I am prepared to do. I’m tired of this running around, these secrets.”

“Then, what do you want to know?” Braden asked suddenly.

“I know enough now; but I want to know were my father is. My brother, my mother.”

“You know those things. Your brother is safe; I made sure. Your father, I do not know; your mother is being held captive. There is nothing in my power I can do to save her right now; if there were, I would. You know this.” Braden seemed stuck. I was winning. I glared at him. The ship was now traveling over the barren desert at high speeds.

“We need to kill David,” I said.

“Why?”

“It is the only way, I feel it...” I added the last bit.

“If it comes to that, then yes. We must put him on trial however, and convict him.”

“Are you as dull as the rest? We are dealing with magic. We have no idea what that can do to our country or us. We need to hike up our skirts and do something. If you want your throne back, we’ll have to get our hands dirty,” I hissed. “Okay?”

“Well, yes…” Braden faltered for a moment, “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Its easier to take action when I know what is going on.” I stated. My adrenaline was pumping, I was ready. It was my duty, my honor, and my charge. They would never know the Prophet speaks to me. I was his chosen one.

“You were the only one of the five children we protected. Of the five children of soldiers who were at the front.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea, but we protected you. The others died.”

“What of their families?” I asked.

“Some were saved, but the rest died horribly a day or so after the king was killed.” Braden shrugged.

“So, we could have had more allies with us today.”

“I guess so.”

The ship slowed suddenly, symbols began to trace across the screens, and runes glittered along the edges. Seline spoke. “Rodef, there is something ahead.” The Venz prince nodded, his fingers drifted across the panels before him, the main screen shifted and rippled, zooming along the desert farther. The ship finally stopped.

The screen focused on a group of figures swaying in the sand. It was Maydis, the woman from Westfield, and several other robed figures.

“It is that woman,” Caleb said, pointing. “From Westfield; the witch.”

“Who are they?”

“They came for Jeremy and his brother, we think. Perhaps, Black Dawn?” Braden said, looking at the screen. They all stood, in the heat, waiting. Their dark cloaks whipping in the wind.

“What do you propose we do?” Seline asked looking up from her station.

“Fire a warning shot,” commanded Caleb. Rodef nodded, Seline moved her head back to the crystal and ran slender fingertips across the surface. The screen zoomed to a wider view of the barren desert; they were at least a mile ahead.

The sand before the craft began to whirl and sink, pinpricks of light forming and swirling, finally materializing into a small orb.

“Fire,” Rodef intoned.

The ship seemed to silence it; the orb shot forward going at speeds no human contraption could follow. The sand flew up in waves behind the orb as it traveled. The screens followed the orb. Runes and symbols ran across the screens, honing in on the location of the Black Dawn agents.

“Nearing targets.” Rodef tensed. “Detonate.” Seline dragged her finger slowly across the crystal and spoke in the ancient tongue. The orb stopped, the sand below it bulged, a black claw soared out. There was a blur as the orb was into ebon claws.

“What the…” Caleb stepped forward, the screens zoomed out. A gigantic creature flew from the sand, pulling the orb from the sky and diving back into the desert, sand splashing in all directions. A moment went by in silence; there was a pulse that sent a shock wave of sand a huge bubble of sand flying upward from the location of the blast. Rodef stared. Seline looked up from her station. All my courage suddenly was gone.

The sand rippled and the creature emerged, it was gigantic, resembling a crystal scorpion with gleaming ruby eyes.

“It’s a construct.” Seline growled. “We should have known.”

“Who is controlling it?”

Rodef’s hands rose into the air and began to press at the screens that rippled into view around him; runes pulsed across the screens as it homed in on the image of Maydis.

“Her.”

“I killed her last creature. This might be different,” Caleb added.

The red haired witch smirked as if she knew she was being watched. The creature was rumbling around the sand; it moved quickly, exactly like a scorpion. The pincers twitched, the feelers, the large tail waiting to strike.

“Why not just fly past them?” I asked.

“More constructs could be around. I count six figures; each could be controlling some sort of creature, somewhere. We must fight.”

“Incoming!” Seline suddenly yelled. “Brace for impact.” I grabbed Braden, hugging him close. He wrapped his arms around me. I saw on the screen a jet of black light heading in our direction. The fingers of the Venz moved quickly. Shimmering light burst before the ship; the craft soared upward. There was impact somewhere, a loud explosion, leaving a crater in the sand. The ship lurched. Braden and I stumbled across the flight deck until I could catch onto one of the walls.

“Hold on.” Rodef’’s voice rose as the ship turned and began to soar in the direction of our attackers. “I am going to activate the gate; when we get close, all of you get out and rid us of them. I will help you from above…” The ship hummed and I could feel the magic once more. I pushed away from Braden and gripped my dagger, ready. My head surged, adrenaline rushed.

As we got nearer, I could see on the screens the creature burrow back into the sand. I saw the gate materialize on the flight deck.
“Go!” Rodef yelled. Seline swirled from her station and jumped through the rippling portal. Caleb was next. Braden sprinted past me, turning before he went, holding out his hand.

“Come on Jeremy!” I was unsure for a moment. “Jeremy!” There was an explosion, I could hear shouting. They were fighting below. I jumped forward. Braden and I went through the cool liquid to burst into the heat of the desert.

Braden pulled out his pistol and tackled the nearest member of the Black Dawn. I drew my dagger and looked around. Seline fought against two agents; their wicked blades were not a match for her scythe. There was a ripple of magic; something flew past me and exploded in the distance. Maydis was standing a yard away, her sword of black glass out. Caleb charged past me, drew his weapon, and lunged at the witch. He kicked at her, forcing her to crumble in the sand. She vanished in a swirl of shadow, and reappeared some distance away from the prince.

A projectile of flame soared toward Caleb; he met it with his weapon. The flames caught on his sword and swirled around the steel. With a yell, he sent it back to the sorceress; a gust of wind sent sand in all directions. I covered my eyes. Seline impaled one of the Black Dawn agents; his screams echoed out over the sands.

A loud drone filled the air as the construct scorpion showed itself once more; it was focused on the ship which soared above us, sending more glittering orbs at the beast.

“Ahh… the boy…” I whirled around. An ugly man with a large sword stood before me. “Come with me… he wants you…” I screamed and charged him, flailing with my dagger. The cultist jumped at me. His grin was filled with yellow teeth. His weapon was heavier than mine. I rolled to the side and lunged with my dagger. He jumped out of the way, kicking at me with his booted foot. Something connected with my shin, sending me stumbling backwards in pain. I slid across the sand; I wanted to cry.

Blinking back tears, I sprinted at my attacker and tackled him. Black fabric rolled across the sand; I felt his hand grip my bicep and I kicked out with my legs, violently. I hit something, I heard him grunt. I stood up shakily. He was on the ground; I kicked him where I though his stomach would be. He wheezed and swung at my ankles with his weapon. I jumped back, gripping my dagger.

He righted himself and came at me again; his sword glinted in the sun. I raised my dagger, puny as it was, to defend myself. I felt steel meet steel. The man tried to push his sword through my dagger, but he could not. My wrists began to fail; I saw the steel of the sword slide along the dagger, heading for my unprotected forearms. I ducked, avoiding the sword and lashed out with my weapon at his feet.

I hit something; he yelped and stumbled backwards. I turned briefly to look at the battlefield. Caleb expertly fought against the witch Maydis; they exchanged blows. She withdrew, out of his range, and assaulted him with a torrent of spells; but he was unharmed. Braden was in a fight with one of the agents; another was dead at his feet. I saw a pistol in his hand. Seline had already downed two of the assailants and was sprinting toward me. Rodef held off the beast with the weapons of the floating craft.

I heard movement; the ugly man was at me again. I ducked, avoiding an awkward swing, and went for his stomach. He kicked me back; I stumbled to the hot sand. The cultist lunged forward and raised his sword. I braced for the impact while trying to crawl to my dagger. Something flew above me and tackled the cultist; he cried in anguish. Seline’s liger stood over him; a large paw upon his head. A quick movement by the liger, and the man was decapitated. His head was taken into the maw of the cat; blood spilled everywhere.

Seline arrived next; I stood up and retrieved my dagger.

“Speaker,” she said. I turned quickly…she knew? “Watch yourself. Hand me your weapon.” I glanced at the battle. Braden was attempting to avoid a large weapon one of his attackers carried. Caleb and Maydis had distanced themselves from the rest; large pulses of light and explosions echoed from them. I glanced at the dagger and handed it to the Venz woman.

Sticking her scythe into the sand, she gripped my dagger and let her fingers play across the hilt, muttering things that made my skin crawl. The dagger shifted, changed, the blade became longer, the hilt widened. Runes appeared along the blade. She nodded, and handed the sword to me. On her face was the ghost of a beautiful smile. “That should suit you better.” She glanced to her liger, which was feeding on the body of the cultist. “This is one of many battles we will have, and they did not send their best.” I gripped the sword, it felt right. It felt perfect.

“I’m going to help the rest,” I turned to sprint away but felt a firm grip catch my shoulder.

“No, they must know what war brings…”

“But Caleb… he is fighting that sorceress, she will kill him!”

“Caleb is playing with her, he is distracting her from us; she can change the tide of battle. Here…take this…” She held out her hand. I felt the air grow still and light, begin to collect, to form a small blue pearl in her palm. “Take this.” I opened up my hand and she pressed the orb into it. The orb felt cold. I shoved it in a pocket. “Use it when you have nothing else… nothing else.” She gazed at me with deep brown eyes, her makeup shifted and swirled. “Remember that.” I nodded. She whistled loudly, the liger padded over to us, blood dripping from its mouth. Seline patted it on the head. “Now, Speaker, let us help Rodef defeat the construct.”

We ran in the direction of the large scorpion, which was attempting to jump at the craft as it pulled away, sending a vortex of light at the construct. The beast howled in anger, and then tunneled back into the sand. Our battlefield was silent. Braden trudged up behind us. There was a large cut under his eye; his mouth bled slightly.

“Are you all right?” I asked, turning suddenly, concerned.

“Nothing a simple bandage can’t fix. I’m going to help Caleb.” He turned and sprinted toward the prince and the witch.

“Wait!” I called, but Seline silenced me, resting a hand on my shoulder.

“Come, Speaker…” She turned and said an ancient word; her scythe rose from the sand and flew into her hand. “Prepare yourself, it is below us.” I gripped my newly formed sword weapon and slowly turned in a circle. Rodef soared above us.

“How do you know?”

“Know what?” Seline asked.

“I am called the Speaker, the Seers said that…”

“I know many things, young Jeremy. You must reach the throne, that is one thing I know. I know you speak for the Prophet.” My heart dropped.

“You cannot tell them!” I breathed, sweat pouring from my brow.

“It is not my place to do so; however, you are important. Things of importance are to be protected.” Was this all for me? My thoughts were interrupted when the sand shifted, forming a whirlpool to the left of us. Seline thrust her palm toward me. “Move!” I felt myself pushed away by an unseen force. I slid across the sand as the gigantic construct soared from below; the liger jumped, attempting to attack it. Seline flipped backward, avoiding the initial assault. Her scythe vanished and she worked her hands in complex patterns, sending whirling blasts of cosmos at the scorpion. Rodef attacked from above, but nothing seemed to work.

Seline vanished in a column of sand, and then was standing next to me. She began to work another spell, her fingers swirling in the air before me, light trailing from her movements. I felt the magic; it made my head hurt, my skin crawl. She intoned a final syllable; the creature launched into the air toward us. A column of white light impaled it. It writhed in pain; another scream echoed even more loudly than the creature’s: Maydis. I turned to see her kneeling in the ground and then vanishing in a swirl of black light. Caleb stood panting on the spot at which the witch had been. Braden stood near him. The creature writhed in the sand, twitching, black liquid flowing from its pores. It finally stopped moving, dead.

The ship came down near Seline and me; Rodef stumbled from the gate and joined us in staring at the smoldering creature. Caleb and Braden came also to look. Caleb had a number of scratches and cuts, however he looked intact.

“We should continue; and we must attend to their wounds.” Rodef said, ushering us all back to the ship. As soon as we entered, I collapsed on the floor, exhausted. Seline attended to Caleb and Braden, patching up their wounds with magical fingertips and bandages. The ship soared into the sky and resumed its journey to Elijah...

The flight deck was silent for some time; no one talked. Only the hum of the ship clouded our thoughts.

“We have just crossed the border into Elijah.” The scenery was changing from that of barren desert to lush farmlands and countryside. We were in Telam; the granaries and fields told us that. We could see the glinting spire of Cathedral in the distance. There, columns of smoke rose slowly. Our speed increased as we soared over farms, forests and rivers.

The ship arched higher into the sky as we neared the Bask River, the dividing line between Riven and Telam. Runes coursed across the screens once more, fingers traveled over crystals slowly.

“The airspace is clear,” Rodef informed us. The ship slowed as we neared Cathedral. We moved in a wide arc as we descended near the outskirts of the city. The ship floated above the treetops before landing in the foliage of a small park just outside Cathedral. The gate materialized once more. Caleb went first. I stood and followed, securing my sword before moving through the rippling liquid.

The air was cold. The park was dark. Caleb stood near a lamp that was just coming to life. The prince was searching the dark edges of the park.

“Nobody is here,” he whispered. Seline came next, then Braden, and finally Rodef. The ship then became no more, vanishing completely. It was gone. “We must wait,” Caleb said. The rest of us silently agreed.
***
Hours went by. I sat in a child’s swing, swaying back and forth as gray clouds and twilight fell upon Cathedral. Caleb leaned against the lamp; Seline and Rodef spoke quietly in their native tongue; and Braden sat in the sandbox near me. We had been waiting forever.

“Do you think we can do it?” I asked Braden.

“Maybe.”

“That is comforting.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Braden replied. I left the swing and joined him. My mail armor clinked when I sat next to him.

“I’m sorry about your father.” I said abruptly. My hand reached for his shoulder.

“We knew it would come; it is nothing I was not prepared for. I am always prepared.” I remained silent, only nodding.

“We will find your father, I promise.”

“Braden.”

“What?” He looked to me and I kissed him. It felt appropriate.

His eyes closed as did mine and I trusted him.

There was movement; Caleb tensed and his hand traveled to his sword. Braden and I moved away from one another. We both stood, prepared. Shadowy figures were coming down the path.

Caleb held up his hand; Lidia emerged in the dull lamplight. She rushed forward, embracing Caleb. The prince returned the embrace; the Venz glanced up but remained at a distance as the twelve Paladins of the Crown came into view. Sydney’s father was among them.

“Where is my sister?” Braden asked suddenly. Lidia glanced to him, a smile on her lips.

“She is at the manor; David has her well guarded. We could not get her out.” The paladins looked ready for battle. They wore golden armor with pleated wings upon their shoulders.

“We will aid you in the siege against the Seat.” Sydney’s father stepped forward, “We are still loyal to the true blood of the fallen king.” Caleb nodded. A figure glided from the depths of the shadows behind the paladins and lowered its veil. It was the queen.

“My son David has gone mad,” she said. She looked gaunt, troubled. She had had many sleepless nights. “He speaks to the air and never leaves the throne room. He will not pick up the crown…Caleb…my love.” Her voice was pleading. She rushed forward and embraced the prince, “Please…”

He whispered something to her, something I could not hear. She nodded, smiled, and retreated.

“Can we get to the Seat without confrontation?” Seline stepped forward, asking. Her eyes were upon Lidia.

The princess felt Seline’s eyes and nodded. “Yes, although the Black Dawn arrived two days ago. The city has been thrown into riots; people have been killed. They are planning to move on Riven, establish a base of power there, and then move throughout the kingdom. David speaks to someone in the throne room but we are never able to enter or see.” She shivered. “Such darkness has descended upon our country.” She sank back to where be her mother was; they consoled one another. Sydney’s father, Nicholas, stepped forward. He pulled out a map, and unrolled it on the ground. It was a map of the city.

“They brought far more forces than we suspected. Also, we think they have some sort of headquarters in Venz and are transporting various supplies and troops via some sort of magical gates in the basements of the manor,” he explained.

Seline joined him. “Yes, we have had intelligence that they were working out of Venz. The Corald Mountains are a jagged, wicked range; they must come from there.” She pointed to a spot on the map near the boarder of Belfala.

“These Black Dawn cultists are importing magic into our kingdom,” Nicholas explained. “They have creatures and shadows and weapons that we know are not fashioned in Elijah. They are using guns and explosives, as well. We will need to make our way through streets which are empty…” He glanced back to one of his paladins; the one he looked to stepped forward, saluting.

“Yes High Captain, we have scouted several locations and we feel the Promenade is the best choice of routes. Recent riots there have caused enough damage to give us cover. The majority of the city is empty.”

“Where have the people been taken?” Braden asked.

“Some have been evacuated to the summer residences near Damascus,” the paladin spoke. “For some reason, the Black Dawn do not touch Damascus. We have no understanding why. The rest have either been killed or taken into slavery.”

“We will enter at a small storage depot near the metro station and use the underground passages to get under the manor. Then we will move through the house up to the Seat.” Nicholas pointed to various locations marked on the map. “We will split up into two teams. Prince Caleb? Would you lead me, Braden, and Jeremy? The paladins will go with the princess and begin to work their way along the promenade, providing a distraction and, perhaps giving us cover.”

“We shall go with Jeremy as well,” Rodef intoned. He and Seline stepped forward. Nicholas glanced up, and nodded.

“The princess and my paladins will make their way through the main gates and meet us in the manor.”

“What of my mother?” Caleb asked, glancing at the frail queen.

“She will return to the manor. David does not know she is missing.” The queen looked to her son and nodded.

“They are protecting the throne; I fear they know we are here. They have several very powerful individuals including a red haired sorceress and two young men who are skilled in the arts of magic. Victor Jericho is funding mercenary soldiers to defend the Seat. We have no idea were he is. Any more questions?”

Everyone glanced around. I looked upon all the people, Caleb, Braden and the paladins. Lidia was fitting herself with a bulletproof vest. The queen walked slowly back through the darkness to return to her mad son. The two Venz, once enemies, now allies, stood by Caleb.

“Let’s go.” And we all slid from the park into the shadows. We moved Moving over the small grassy knolls onto the hard asphalt of the streets.

Everything was barren; cars were turned upside down; some were still burning. Trash blew about in the bitter cold wind. Occasionally, we passed a human body, some were smoldering; we saw blood splattered along the walls of a building; but we could not stop. We gripped our guns or our swords, and kept going. The city itself was dead. I could smell the death, the decay, and the tragedy. It made me angry; I wanted to rip David and his pitiful soul apart.

We came to a corner; Nicholas held up his hand for us to halt, and then motioned to two of his paladins. He spoke quietly to them. I leaned forward and saw a blockade. Four soldiers stood with a goliath tank. Each was dressed in dark clothing and wore dark masks. They held rifles. There was a symbol pressed in white upon their chests. It was the symbol of the Jericho Company.

Nicholas motioned for us to wait as the two paladins tapped their boots on the ground and then soared into the air silently. They darted to the side of a building above the soldiers and held tightly there, their golden wings flexing. They descended upon the soldiers silently, like angels of death. There were gunshots; flashes of light and the soldiers were dead. The tank came to life; however a paladin had already entered the hatch and a soldier came flying out, smashing his neck against the asphalt, dead.

We sneaked across the street and gathered behind the tank. Before us was the Promenade. It was a gigantic stretch of street that led to the Seat of Elijah. Most companies and stores of influence were housed on the street; it was a tourist attraction to many. However, now it looked desolate, full of burning cars and trash. The tower of the Seat glittered in the last rays of a gray sun; thunder soared across the sky and rain slowly began to fall.

“All right, Lidia, you’re to the farthest side of the street, before you reach the Seat, take the alley and try and get through the gate. Use coms to let us know of your location.” The princess nodded, gripped firmly the shotgun she now carried, and moved with her eleven golden escorts across the street.

The rest of us moved along the street slowly. It was quiet, barren. The only sound was the occasional raindrop hitting a piece of trash, or sizzling in the fires of the destroyed cars.

“Did a war happen here?” I asked quietly.

“The people defended their country…” Nicholas whispered as we moved along. I heard a buzzing, Nicholas touched his hear. “Roger, all right. Lidia is almost at the gate.” I glance across the street and saw the other group dipping into an alley. A moment later, gunfire was heard, and shouting. “All right, let’s go!” Nicholas sprinted across the Promenade. The rest of us followed.

Gray sky was reflected in the windows of the buildings. Flames licked at the air. Our bodies tensed at each sound; the gunshots from the other side of the block had died down. Nicholas touched his ear again.

“They are through the gate.” He ordered us to halt and scanned the area; another gesture and we were moving forward again. Then I heard it. Soft at first, then growing louder, a whistling sound. Everything slowed. A flaming projectile soared past the group, connecting with an abandoned truck. Flames erupted in all directions; the force tossed the group into the air I felt my body lifted and thrown onto a nearby bench. Pain rocketed up my spine.

I hear shouting, muffled yells. Gunfire. Braden vaults over the bench and lands next to me, huddling close with his gun. My vision swims. He has a cut above his eye. I lean up, coughing from the smoky debris. There is more gunfire, Braden motions for me to get lower to the ground and I do. I see our attackers; they are above us, there are many of them, some scaling down the buildings. An ambush.

“They knew… we….”

I feel Braden hush me, a finger to my lips. He says something but I cannot hear it over another loud explosion. My arm hurts. Braden begins to move away, motioning for me to follow. Rising slowly, the blood surging to my head, I stumble and follow. Seline and Rodef are working their magic, forcing the mercenary soldiers of Victor Jericho off the rooftops and to the street. Nicholas and Caleb are waiting for them like hungry lions. More gunfire. We get farther and farther away from the fight; then I hear another whistling noise, closer.

Braden turns; he has a look of horror in his eyes. Was I going to die now? This is not right. This is all wrong.

Braden grabs me, turning to shield me from whatever horror approached. I hear the explosion, feel the pulse of the flames engulfing the area around us. But no pain.

We are alive.

Rodef stands behind us, his palm outstretched, a flickering orb of light surrounding us. He yells something; my ears are still ringing. Black clad soldiers charge at us. Rodef is gone, now in the midst of the charging soldiers his hands reach to the sky as the soldiers are tossed to the edges of the street in a flurry of wind. Some stand up, aiming their weapons only to be smitten by a streak of lightning from the sky.

Braden continues to pull me along, everything then returns to normal time. My hearing returns, I can hear shouting. I look back to Nicholas, Caleb and Seline; they are running after us now. Did we win?

Rodef is walking in front of us, clearing the way with cosmic light and lightning. Nicholas sprints up to us, panting; there are streaks of blood across his beautiful golden armor.

“The depot is a few blocks that way,” he points west. “We need to head that way, they were prepared for us, let’s move.”

We continue along the Promenade without any interception. Nicholas informs us a few minutes later that Lidia and her group have the first floor of the manor secured and are waiting for us.

Traveling through the maze of the city, a few blocks westerly, as Nicholas has told us, we reach the depot: a large warehouse. The large bay doors are guarded by several soldiers and dark robed cultists. We stop behind a building corner.

“Your Grace, take Jeremy to the tunnel, the rest of us will hold them off until you both can enter. We will follow.” Braden nods. I brandish my weapon, ready to fight. The High Captain glances around the corner once more, nods and steps forward launching into the air to a nearby building, using the building as a catapult, he shoots into the group protecting the depot. There is a sonic explosion; a robed body flies from the ruckus landing atop a car, dead. Caleb charges past, Seline next. Rodef materializes near the group.

“Come on!” Braden urges. We both sprint toward the group. Steel clashing, magic rippling across the air, ducking past Caleb and one of the cultists, Braden and I make it past the group and into the vast depot.

“Get the boy!” A rough voice shouts. A solider turns to run at us, aiming his weapon only to be decapitated by Caleb. The ground rumbles, a buzzing noise, the street near the battlefield explodes, sending asphalt in all directions. A female screams, Seline. A gigantic creature looms in the dust; it resembles a snake made of the same material as the scorpion from the desert. The beast rears and dives into group.

“Come on Jeremy!” Braden yells. I look back to the group.

“They need our help!”

“No they don’t! Come on!” I look between the two. I start off into a sprint, ignoring the pain in my arm, my weapon ready, back into the fighting. “Jeremy!”

Dust is everywhere; I can see the golden armor of Nicholas glinting in the firelight. Caleb finishes off another solider, beheaded. Seline and Rodef both combat the large snake with magic. Caleb sees me.

“Get out of here!” He runs at me; a cultist emerges from the dust of battle, a small black orb in his hands. A smile on his ugly face.

“For the Dawn!”

“BOMB!” Caleb lunges at me, tackling me as the area is engulfed in flames; I feel my body lifted once more, tossed into the depot. My ears buzz, then everything is numb and suddenly dark.

I’m awake now. I can see and hear. I am in a small room. I see my father sitting at a table, my brother across from him. The woman from the manor is there, Avihs, their heads are bent. They are praying. Then it all washes away like ink in the rain.

I am in the throne room, however the youth with tousled hair sits in the throne, looking troubled. Many people occupy the throne room, however some are more distinct than the others. The rest are just blurs.

“Is there any word?” The young man asks.

“No.” A voice says.

The doors of the throne room soar open. “Prophet!” A female voice rings out; the youth sits up in the throne. The crowd parts, a liger stalks into the throne room. The woman entering is blurry for a moment.

“Synthril.” The youth says, and then it drips away like water.

I am on top of the hill again; the fields of golden grain are dead, and flames rise in the distance and thunder echoes across the land. The youth sits under the tree staring off into the distance.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice is loud, it echoes.

“Wickedness corrupts my kingdom,” he replies.

“Who?”

The youth does not reply. I ask, “What can I do? We are going to get it back, we will. I promise.”

“I know,” he says calmly. “But so much blood must be spilt for something so simple as a crown of leaves.” The youth looks tragic; dismay and fear are in his eyes. I feel that there is no more hope. “You must do anything to save it…. anything…” I nod. Everything rushes away.

I stand in the hallway before the throne room; blood is everywhere. Soldiers and cultists are in piles about me. I see Caleb walking down the hall toward me. A noise distracts me. At my feet, Braden reaches up from a pool of blood.

“Help…” I stare. I scream but I can hear nothing, a sword flicks through the air, cutting Braden’s throat. Blood pours out. Caleb stands over him, glaring down with all the hatred of the world.

“No…” I whisper. “No!”

Then darkness.