In the eleventh month, on the twelfth day, after two long days of war, the silence finally fell over the world.
The war had ended.
The teleported ones of the Barony opened their eyes, some staggering, others with empty gazes, unable to understand how they had arrived there.
Each face reflected fear, pain and disorientation. The air still carried the smell of iron and smoke, reminding them that the end did not mean peace.
Kael felt the weight of responsibility press his chest — relief there was none, only uncertainty. What had happened in the North? And why had they been brought there?
"Welcome back, Kael" said Karna, the firm voice cutting through the confused murmur of the survivors. "Tell me what happened in the North. And how everyone arrived here."
Kael recomposed himself, lifting his face, the band still marked by dust and dried blood. His voice came out calm, yet grave:
"It would be better that everyone listened."
Karna let out a sigh, passing his hand through the white hair, attentive to the surroundings.
"At the moment, the situation of the Marquisate is not of the best" said, in a low tone. "Brianna and Phoebe are with the nobles. Since the fall of the Bronze Wall, they are... euphoric."
Kael assimilated the information for a few seconds, serene expression, but tense. Then spoke with firmness:
"More euphoric than they should. The Northern Barony was swept from the map."
The smile of Karna disappeared. His clear eyes swept the place, measuring each expression, each survivor.
After an instant, he forced a slight smile — the typical of who tries to hide the impact behind confidence.
"Follow me. We are going to talk in another place."
Before leaving, the archer cast a quick look at Isabela and Doros, both still among the teleported, exhausted and trying to situate themselves.
He said nothing; a simple nod was enough.
The doors of the hall creaked when being opened, revealing the corridor of the Marquisate Tirésias.
The marble floor was covered in footprints and dust; torches burned weakly, projecting trembling shadows over torn tapestries and stained coats of arms.
Karna walked ahead, firm and steady steps. Kael followed him in silence, feeling the slight pulse of the stones under his feet — a castle still breathing chaos.
They climbed two flights of stairs and crossed a narrow corridor until Karna pushed a double door of dark wood.
On the other side, a wide and silent room awaited them: maps open over the central table, half-filled cups, and the coat of arms of the Tirésias stamped on the wall.
Karna closed the door, leaning briefly before speaking, now in a restrained tone:
"Now yes. Tell me, Kael… what really happened in the North?"
Kael told everything he remembered: the arrival of Ereon, the brief confrontation, the strength of the Viscount, the violent vibrations that echoed under the ground on the second day, the revelations of the servant of the central king and the appearance of Limia.
He spoke about the screams, the chaos, and the last thing he felt before everything disappeared — and about Ereon, and his plans.
Karna listened in silence, his expression changing at each detail: incredulity, astonishment and, at last, something close to dread.
The hands, before relaxed over the table, were now clenched.
When Kael finished, the silence filled the room. Karna breathed deeply, passing his hand over his face.
"I understand… then it makes sense" murmured, more to himself.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Kael, frowning slightly.
Karna straightened himself, crossing his arms, the distant look. His voice lost the habitual lightness:
"While the Barony was being attacked, we also fought here."
An instant of heavy silence fell between them. Kael perceived, by the irregular beats of Karna's heart, that the archer struggled to organize the thoughts.
Fragments of memories came to the surface: fireballs cutting the sky, the roar that made the ground tremble, the shape of the Count changing beyond human comprehension.
Karna breathed deeply, eyes fixed on the wall as if he still saw the scene before him: Haron's wounds, the wall giving way, and that instant when the air seemed to freeze — the shadow that arose around Brianna and the Prince. Something ancient, cold and profoundly wrong.
"Not even Phoebe managed to understand what that was" murmured, tired. "Everything changed after that moment."
Kael breathed deeply, the voice hoarse from exhaustion:
"These days were not easy… but I did not think that the Prince would join the fight."
Karna looked at him, firm and without illusions:
"Do not fool yourself. He only acts out of interest." said, crossing his arms. "He did because he had something to gain."
He made a brief pause, expression returning to the previous weariness.
"I will inform Brianna and Phoebe. With Haron's wounds, he will not be able to join us so soon."
Kael nodded, silent, before asking:
"And Isabela?"
Karna diverted the gaze, thoughtful, before leaving.
"That is for Phoebe and Haron to decide."
Hours passed. Outside, it still smelled of ashes and blood.
Knights walked the paths among the debris, guiding the survivors of the Barony to improvised tents on the slopes of the bronze walls.
Many still staggered, too terrified to speak; others observed the ruins in silence, unable to react.
Isabela moved among soldiers and residents, helping the wounded, improvising bandages, supporting those who could barely stand, keeping calm even in face of the chaos.
Doros came right behind, body dirty with dust and dried blood, carrying Thalia in his arms. He kept firm steps, attentive to each obstacle, guaranteeing her safety.
Time passed silent among hurried steps, whispers of pain and the crack of the bonfires that began to illuminate the night.
When the moon already hung high, the cold breeze crossed the windows of the fortification where Kael remained.
He felt the damp smell of the night and the distant sound of movements in the field.
Then, steps echoed in the corridor.
Karna entered first, followed by Phoebe and Brianna. Both settled near the table, exhausted, but alert, ready to listen and decide.
"Karna has already updated us about the events in the Barony" said Phoebe, the calm voice, but loaded with weariness and tension. "Now we need to decide what comes next."
Kael leaned lightly on the window, feeling the night breeze cross the glass.
The presence of Karna and the others gave him some stability.
"Good that everyone is well" murmured Kael, almost a whisper. "I am sorry for not being present, but…"
Karna raised his hand, interrupting him with calm firmness:
"You had already decided your path, Kael. No one will blame you."
Brianna remained upright, silver eyes analyzing each detail of the room.
"We will still have much work ahead" commented, firm posture, objective and cutting voice.
Phoebe let out a light sigh, fallen shoulders, heavy expression:
"We are organizing the survivors, ensuring that no one suffers more than necessary… and deciding how to react from now on."
Kael closed his eyes for an instant, absorbing the rhythm of the vibrations of the ground, the wind and the murmurs.
"Then… it is time to prepare ourselves" said, firm voice, loaded with silent determination.
The group still discussed the next steps, absorbing the weight of the night, when a crash ran through the ground, vibrating under their feet.
The sound cut the silence like a warning.
Kaelir entered running in the room, eyes sweeping all the present ones, voice loaded with urgency:
"Someone crossed the paths!"
Brianna rose immediately, clenched fists, silver eyes fixed on the door.
"Impossible…" murmured, incredulous.
The crash reverberated again through the Marquisate, echoing against walls and corridors, confirming that the force that had crossed the paths was already in movement.
Phoebe frowned, firm voice, still loaded with concern:
"It came from the central courtyard."
Brianna turned, senses alert, concluding:
"There… Typhon is there."
Karna crossed his arms, calculating each possibility, grave voice:
"Then it can only mean one thing: he is facing him."
The group remained in silence, absorbing the tension. Each one knew that what happened in the central courtyard could change everything.
Quick action and precision would be crucial.
Meanwhile in the central courtyard, Typhon remained firm, tense muscles, body ready for confrontation.
His eyes evaluated the Figure, each gesture, each breath, searching for an opening.
He did not retreat; the presence of the being before him only increased his determination.
The Figure, in turn, remained calm, cold smile on the lips.
The black cloak floated lightly around him, the disordered strands of hair falling partially over the purple eyes that radiated power.
Reality seemed to distort around him, subtle ripples of black energy pulsing in the air.
"Interesting…" murmured Typhon, the firm voice, slightly ironic. "You really dared to break the taboo. You joined two divine essences that no one would dare… and yet, you walk through the empire of a god of order, shamelessly."
The Being before Typhon smiled slightly, the eyes shining with a mixture of curiosity and contempt.
"And what can I do?" answered, calm voice, almost provocative. "I am a hunter of emotions."
Typhon inclined the body slightly forward, cold smile on the lips. Eyes sparking, evaluating each detail of the being before him.
"It is funny…" said, firm, loaded with contained threat "…how the sharp tongue of someone can end up cutting his own throat."
The Being arched an eyebrow, a scornful smile appearing:
"Oh, I am counting on that. But if it is about cutting… do not worry, I assure you that the pleasure will be yours."
Typhon laughed low, a hoarse and disdainful sound, approaching only enough to feel the aura of the Being:
"Pleasure?" murmured, loaded with sarcasm and provocation "It seems that you like to play with fire… just do not burn yourself before the time."
"Burn?" replied the Being, tilting the head, purple eyes shining like blades. "For now, I am only warming up. But do not be mistaken: I can be much more fun than it seems."
The silence became heavy, almost palpable. Each word was a blade, each look a test.
Both measured each other, ready to attack… or to provoke more, until seeing who would yield first.
Typhon flexed the fingers slowly, nails lengthening into sharp claws, black as obsidian, the air around vibrating with the tension concentrated in each muscle.
The Being smiled slightly, extending the hand; thin ripples of black energy danced on the fingers, pulsing like living currents, ready to intertwine with any attack.
"Then… want to play hunt?" murmured Typhon, the tone loaded with sarcasm and challenge, while each fiber of his body seemed ready to leap.
The Being remained calm, purple eyes shining intensely, like sharp blades that tore the air:
"Always. But careful… sometimes, the hunter ends up being hunted."
The confrontation was about to explode, and the central courtyard seemed to hold its breath along with them.