Korvek rode off at dawn while Cassius, Elric, and Varcen passed beneath Ashenhold's battered gates. The sight of the city pressed on Cassius like a weight- not the warming welcome of home, but the hollow echo of what had been. Faces in the streets were thin and grim; people moved like shadows, their eyes dull and guarded. No cheer met them. No bright banners. Even the dogs kept their distance.
Varcen broke the silence with a bitter bite.
Varcen: "Not a single soul to greet their future lord."
Cassius forced a laugh that tasted like dust.
Cassius: "I expected something… more."
He had hoped for one face, one smile. Instead there was only silence. He spotted the tavern where Soren had worked; a two-storey, timbered building tucked beside the blacksmith's forge. Without asking, Cassius turned his horse's head.
Cassius: "Master Elric, Varcen… go on ahead. I have something I must do."
They did not question him. The pair urged their mounts forward toward the inner keep, hoofbeats fading. Cassius rode to the tavern and dismounted slowly, heart pounding under his ribs.
The tavern's wooden door was worn by a thousand hands. Inside, the room smelled of candle wax, old ale, and a faint burn of the smith's iron beyond the wall. Small chandeliers swung from the rafters. A long counter ran the length of the room, shelves of bottles and jars glinting behind it. A hand-forged sign above the bar read Happy Shakes, its paint flaking like old bark.
Garret stood at a corner sink, washing a set of chipped bowls. He was tall and broad, near fifty, with hands callused by years of labor. He turned at the sound of Cassius's step and straightened, wiping his palms on a stained cloth.
Cassius(bowing his head): "Uncle!"
Garret's face softened the fraction of a moment.
Garret: "Young lord." He set the bowl down. "You look pale. Sit. I'll fetch what I can."
Cassius sat at the long counter. The tavern felt emptier than it should have; no laughter, barely the scrape of a chair. Garret returned with a loaf of bread and a small dish of honey-mustard. He slid it across to Cassius with hands that trembled more from age than hunger.
Garret(quietly): "Forgive me, there isn't more. I only have this to offer."
Cassius's voice went thin. He reached into his satchel and unfolded a scrap of cloth with hands that would not steady. He laid it flat on the counter: a broken brooch and a torn scrap from a sleeve- Soren's things, dust-caked, familiar.
Cassius: "I'm sorry,"
He said, and the words broke.
Garret's eyes filled so quickly the salt stung his lashes. He crossed the room and stood beside the counter. His fingers hovered before he took the brooch, lifting it with a reverence that made Cassius's chest ache.
Garret: "This… this brooch — his mother gave it to him."
Garret's voice trembled between grief and a small, fierce pride.
Garret: "He was so proud to wear it. He said he would walk by your side."
Cassius swallowed. The memory of Soren's grin flared like a blade.
Cassius: "He never took it off."
Garret nodded, eyes fixed on the torn cloth. For a long moment neither man spoke. Then Garret drew a breath, steadier now.
Garret: "Thank you," he said simply. "Thank you for making sure he was brought home."
A silence swallowed them. Cassius steadied himself on the counter and met Garret's gaze.
Cassius(voice low and raw): "He fought. He fought for us. He died doing more good than any man I've known."
Garret let out a barked laugh that was half a sob. He placed a heavy, weathered hand on Cassius's shoulder as if to anchor them both.
Garret: "That is a son's vow. Tell them Soren's father remembers."
Cassius bowed his head, a hard, reverent motion. The tavern felt very small suddenly — a single room of wood and candlelight holding all the sorrow of a kingdom. He slid the brooch and the cloth back into his satchel, fingers lingering an instant on the familiar metal.
Cassius: "He was my brother."
Cassius said, words tasted like iron.
Cassius: "And I swear to you, every person responsible — every hand that made that thing and sent it against him — will answer with their blood. By my hands."
Garret's grip tightened once on his shoulder, then let him go. He pressed the brooch to his own chest as if to keep the memory warm.
Cassius straightened. He left the counter, leaving Garret standing among the scattered crumbs and the little pool of candlelight. Outside, the city breathed with a tired, brittle rhythm. The gate's mechanism groaned as it swung in another courier. Cassius mounted his horse and rode after Elric and Varcen, the weight of promise heavy and precise in his chest.
---
Cassius went to the training hall. It was empty. Even though the city buzzed with news of strange beasts appearing, the hall stood in silence. Cassius didn't think about that. He walked to the center of the hall, where the stone floor still bore faint scuffs from old sparring sessions. Practice swords, shields, and spears rested in their usual racks, untouched.
He remembered the small bouts they used to do. The lessons of Master Elric. The guidance of General Aldric. The hall smelled faintly of sweat and dust, and in its silence, memories weighed heavier than steel.
After some moments, he was interrupted by a voice.
It was his mother.
Queen Aelina had received word of Cassius's return from Elric. She came running, breathless, gasping for air.
Aelina: "Cassius!"
She closed the distance in a heartbeat, her tender hands cupping his face. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Cassius embraced her tightly, clinging to her warmth.
Aelina(whispering): "It's okay, my son. You did great."
Cassius broke. His tears spilled freely. He cried into her shoulder, his voice ragged.
Cassius: "Mother… Soren…"
She held him closer, her palm moving across his back in a slow, steady rhythm, the way she had when he was a child.
When Cassius's sobs softened, Queen Aelina spoke again, her tone gentle yet unwavering.
Aelina: "You fought the lab's poison, not your friend."
Cassius shook his head, his voice broken. Cassius: "I saw Soren's eyes. He was begging me."
Her own eyes shimmered, but her voice remained steady.
Aelina: "Then you gave him peace. And that, my son, is the hardest kindness a soul could ever ask for. Now wipe your tears. Your father is waiting in his room."
Cassius bowed his head, wiped his face, and turned toward his father's chamber.
Queen Aelina watched him go, her figure still against the fading light of the hall. Her eyes followed him, soft with love but heavy with worry.
On his way to the chamber, Cassius moved through the long veranda of the castle. Towering pillars of marble stood to his right, and faded paintings hung from the wall to his left. He stopped at one of them.
It was a portrait of a former King of Ashenhold with his queen. They were young. The king had been in his twenties when he married her. The portrait bore the marks of time; the colors were dull, washed, and cracked. Cassius lingered for a brief moment, then moved on.
At the end of the hall, he saw General Aldric enter Marko's chamber. Cassius quickened his steps, but the chamber doors shut before he could reach them. He pressed his ear against the heavy wood, catching only muffled voices within.
General Aldric: "Forgive me, Your Majesty."
Marko: "What's the urgency?"
Aldric: "One of the scouts has returned, and-"
Marko: "And? What happened?"
Aldric (lowering his eyes): "He is injured. It's bad news, Your Majesty."
Marko (his expression tensing): "What did he say?"
Aldric: "He wishes for your presence."
Cassius still leaned against the door, straining to hear. Suddenly, the door swung open. He jolted back. Marko stood before him.
Placing a hand on Cassius's shoulder, Marko spoke with a heavy tone.
Marko: "We will talk at night. There is an urgent matter."
He gave Cassius a reassuring pat before striding away. Aldric bowed politely to Cassius, then followed his king. Cassius caught the tension in Marko's eyes.
Cassius: "What happened?"
Receiving no answer, he followed after them-ten steps behind.
---
The throne room was dim, its high windows allowing only streaks of fading daylight to pierce the vast chamber. Councilor Verran and the others were already gathered. At the entrance, a scout knelt, his body broken, drenched in blood. His breath rattled as though each one might be his last.
Verran's face twisted with fury.
Verran: "How dare a mere scout request the King's presence!"
Strategist Rhen rose, his tone steady though his eyes were sharp.
Rhen: "Please calm yourself, Councilor Verran. He was sent to Hollowponds. He may carry news of importance."
Verran sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.
Verran: "He could have reported to me - or any other council member. The King is tired. He need not see this wretch."
Rhen's voice deepened, heavy with command.
Rhen: "My lord Councilor Verran, it is not in our power to say whether the King is tired or not."
Their eyes locked, Rhen's glare cutting through the air. Verran's nostrils flared, his chest rising with short, angry breaths.
The heavy doors creaked open. King Marko entered. His presence thundered through the hall, his voice resonating against the pillars.
Marko: "What is the matter, Councilor Verran? Strategist Rhen?"
The council members stood at once, bowing deeply.
Verran pointed with fury at the scout.
Verran: "Your Majesty, this fool has tainted this grand hall with his blood. Such insolence is unacceptable!"
The scout trembled where he sat. His face was bruised, one arm gone, his bandages soaked crimson. Blood dripped freely onto the stone.
Marko raised his hand-an unmistakable order for silence. His eyes hardened.
Marko: "What is acceptable and what is not… that is none of your concern, Councilor. He will have the King's presence. Perhaps you should learn softness at times."
He stepped closer, his gaze falling upon the scout.
Marko: "Speak, boy."
The scout clutched at his stump, forcing words past his broken breath.
Scout: "Uff… uhh… M-my Lord… th-they are monsters. Pale blue skin… faces twisted, deformed. Some—some without legs. Others wrapped in strange coverings. A few… they carried weapons. Ughh… horrific. Hrrghhh—"
Blood bubbled at his lips. He coughed, body convulsing, before collapsing to the ground. The chamber fell into silence. A guard rushed forward, but it was too late. The young man lay lifeless, drowned in a pool of his own blood.
Marko's jaw tightened. His voice, though quiet, rang with sorrow.
He ordered at once.
Marko: "See to it he is given a soldier's funeral. And General Aldric, dispatch a troop at once."
Outside the doors, hidden in shadow, Cassius listened. His heart hammered. His fists clenched as if something within him demanded action. Before the soldiers could even move, he sprinted toward the stables. He had never been the one to leap headlong into unknown danger-yet tonight, he did. Something in him had begun to change.
Back in the hall, Marko dismissed the council, his brow furrowed deep.
Marko: His thoughts churned like storm clouds. How did this happen? Ashenhold already suffers from scarcity, its rivers dry, its lands failing… and now these creatures at Hollowponds. And the Catalyst. Ugh-
A sharp pain stabbed behind his eyes. The world tilted. He staggered, bracing himself against the wall. His voice cracked, trembling between anguish and resolve.
Marko: "Cassius… I should see him. My son."
But when he reached his chamber, Cassius was not there. He searched Aelina's chamber, the training hall, every corridor. Panic rose as he questioned Elric and Varcen-but they had not seen him either.
The realization struck him cold. His eyes widened. His voice broke into a hoarse whisper.
Marko: "No… no way. That boy-"
Beyond the walls of Ashenhold, Cassius was already on the road, racing across the mountains. His path was set for Hollowponds.
The sky was smothered in heavy clouds, the sun's golden drowned in their thickness. Cassius galloped through the outer gates of Ashenhold, the guards startled but offered no challenge-they only bowed as the young lord passed.
Beyond the walls, the road bent into shadow. Mountains loomed ahead, their jagged peaks veiled in mist. Cassius's horse pounded the dirt path, each strike echoing his heartbeat. His cloak snapped in the wind. He felt his breath, heavy, as though the whole world was holding its breath.
He whispered under his breath.
Cassius: "Soren… I won't fail again."
The farther he went, the more silence swallowed him. The forests near the path were still. Too still. No chirp of crickets, no distant howl of wolves. Only the sound of hooves and his own uneven breathing.
He slowed as the trail narrowed. To his left, cliffs dropped into darkness; to his right, the slope rose steep and harsh. Mist began to curl over the path, damp and cold.
Cassius dismounted, leading his horse cautiously. His fingers brushed the relic tied to his belt. It gave a faint pulse, almost as if it sensed the danger ahead.
The memory of the scout's words gnawed at him. Pale blue skin… deformed faces… weapons… He swallowed hard. Part of him screamed to turn back. To wait for his father's men. But the other part-the louder part-pushed him on.
Cassius: "He fought for me. He died for me. I can't stand still."
A sudden crack echoed in the mist. The horse neighed, stepping back nervously. Cassius's hand went to the hilt of his sword. Shadows shifted between the fog. He froze, his eyes darting.
Then silence again. Only the sound of his ragged breath.
He pressed forward, into the unknown.
---
The Hollowponds was shrouded in silence. Mist rolled across the stagnant waters, wrapping the place in a suffocating veil. The trees were blackened husks, their roots half-buried in dried mud. And at the far edge-standing in eerie stillness-were the monsters.
There were at least fifty, maybe eighty. Their pale blue skin gleamed under the rising moonlight. Faces warped beyond human recognition, some missing limbs, others covered in stitched hides or strange metallic wrappings. They stood motionless, as if waiting for an unseen master's command.
Cassius crept down the rocky passage, his breaths slow and shallow. Every step felt like an eternity. His hands shook. He wasn't ready-not without Aldric, not without his father. Yet something inside him urged him forward.
A twig cracked beneath his boot.
The sound tore through the silence like a blade.
Dozens of heads snapped toward him. Hollow eyes fixed on Cassius.
His face drained of color.
Cassius: "Damn…"
One creature broke into a sprint, its limbs jerking unnaturally. The others stirred, their bodies twitching in grotesque anticipation.
Cassius froze. He wasn't ready for this. Not alone. His heart pounded in his throat-until he felt the weight at his side. The relic pulsed. Heat seared his palms. A blinding light burst forth, wrapping around his hands, shaping into radiant gauntlets that cracked with energy.
The first monster lunged.
Cassius leapt high, the ground shattering beneath his feet. He came down like a falling star. His fist connected with the creature's chest-its body exploded into nothingness, leaving no trace. The shockwave rippled across the Hollowponds.
The other beasts hesitated, their heads twitching as if in confusion. Then they roared and surged forward.
Cassius rose to his feet, the glow of the relic wrapping his fists like molten fire. He cracked his knuckles, eyes sharp, voice low and venomous.
Cassius: "Come… bastards."
The night erupted into chaos.
Blades clashed. Claws tore through soil and bark. The pond boiled with blood and ash.
From the ridge, a horn sounded. General Aldric arrived with his men, their armor gleaming faintly in the moonlight. His eyes widened at the sight.
Aldric: "Young Lord? My god…"
He snapped his command instantly.
Aldric: "Men! To him! At once!"
The soldiers charged, steel ringing against bone and hide.
Cassius caught Aldric's voice amidst the battle.
Aldric: "My Lord, why are you here?"
Cassius smashed a monster aside, his gauntlet glowing.
Cassius: "No time! Take care of these filths first!"
Aldric unsheathed his blade—a silver edge that shimmered like the moon itself.
Aldric: "At your command!"
In a single swing, he cleaved through a beast's neck, its head rolling into the mud.
Another lunged from the side, jaws wide, but Cassius twisted his gauntlet and slammed it forward. The impact cracked bone, sending the creature's skull shattering into fragments. A third leapt upon him, claws raking, but Cassius seized its arm mid-strike, wrenched it free with a sharp pull, and drove his glowing fist through its chest. The beast crumbled into dust.
Behind him, Aldric cut down two more with a sweep of his silver blade, his voice bellowing, rallying the soldiers into formation. Shields locked, steel rang against claws. Sparks danced with every clash. The monsters pressed harder, their shrieks piercing through the night. One crawled despite its missing leg, dragging itself through blood-soaked earth until Cassius crushed its skull beneath his boot.
Another swung a jagged weapon. Cassius caught the strike on his gauntlet, sparks flying, then drove his fist into its gut with such force the shockwave split the ground beneath them.
Still they came-pale blue bodies spilling from the tree line, eyes glowing, faces twisted with hunger. Cassius's breath grew ragged, his arms heavy, yet with every strike, the relic burned brighter.
The battlefield became a storm. Flames licked the trees, casting wild shadows across the Hollowponds. Monsters shrieked and fell, but for every one slain, more surged. The moon climbed higher, washing the carnage in silver light.
Cassius fought like a man possessed, his fists breaking through twisted bodies, shockwaves shaking the ground. Aldric carved a path through the horde, his men struggling but holding. Hours blurred into blood and smoke.
At last, silence.
The Hollowponds was a graveyard. Corpses piled across mud and water. The stench of burning flesh filled the air. The ground itself seemed to mourn.
In the center of it all stood Cassius. His chest heaved, blood splattered across his face and armor. The relic's glow pulsed faintly on his fists.
Marko arrived with Elric and Varcen, their eyes widening at the sight. They said nothing-because nothing needed to be said. The truth was laid bare before them. The relic was no ordinary artifact. And Cassius was no ordinary heir.
Cassius tilted his head back, staring at the night sky. The stars burned bright, the moon bathed the battlefield in pale silver. His voice was barely a whisper, but the vow carried in the silence.
Cassius: "This is the last option. I have to… No. I will accept this."
He lowered his gaze to the relic glowing on his fists.
Far away, deep beneath the ruins of the First Engine, a hum shook the earth. Machinery stirred, ancient gears grinding awake.
A voice, mechanical and cold, echoed through the void.
"Initiate Protocol 1."
"Linking with the Catalyst."
"…Link established."
The eyes of the First Engine blazed to life.
*************End of Book1************