The night slowly descended over the territory of Arkhel.
Beyond the second wall...
The fortress finally revealed its true face.
Wide stone avenues cut through the city toward the fortress raised upon the central hill.
Rows of gray stone houses stood in orderly lines.
Their dark rooftops reflected the light of the hundreds of torches scattered throughout the streets.
But the city breathed no tranquility.
Lines of soldiers crossed the districts toward the defensive positions.
The wounded were carried to temples and makeshift infirmaries.
Servants transported water, food, and bandages between the detachments.
Few merchants still kept their doors open.
Most had limited themselves to supplying the army.
Even the priests walked in silence...
Their eyes repeatedly turned toward the inner wall.
Near the wall, catapults and trebuchets waited in silence.
Upon the wall, ballistas and scorpions remained aimed at the fortified passage, while sentries patrolled the battlements with steady hands resting upon their weapons.
By the light of the torches, their eyes never left the darkness beyond the wall.
And above everything...
Completely dominating Arkhel...
The royal fortress, built atop the city's highest hill, remained unshaken.
White stone towers pierced the sky.
Banners bearing a crimson rose swayed in the wind.
From any point in the city, all one had to do was lift their eyes to find it.
Inside the fortress...
Long stone corridors stretched beneath the wavering light of torches fixed to the walls.
The flames cast long shadows across the dark marble floor.
Tapestries adorned with the crimson rose crest hung between ancient white stone pillars.
The silence that ruled the interior of the fortress...
Was broken only by the firm sound of footsteps.
Toc.
Toc.
Oryn walked through the corridors.
One hand rested upon his left shoulder.
The makeshift bandage concealed part of the blood that still stained his clothes.
His face remained calm.
As though the events of that day had not been enough to alter his bearing.
The guards stationed along the corridor straightened as he passed.
Not a word was spoken.
At the end of the corridor...
Two enormous dark wooden doors rose before him.
Reinforced with long bands of black steel.
The crimson rose crest occupied the center of each.
Two knights stood motionless before the entrance.
The moment Oryn approached...
Both inclined their heads ever so slightly.
Then...
They slowly pushed the heavy doors open.
CRRRRRR...
The groan of wood echoed through the corridor.
The opening revealed the vast throne hall.
Hundreds of torches illuminated the chamber.
Ancient pillars supported the high vaulted ceiling.
Long tapestries descended between the columns, each marked with the same crimson rose crest.
A long red carpet stretched across the entire hall.
Leading directly to the raised dais at the far end.
Upon it...
The throne.
Carved from white stone.
Elegant lines blended with ancient engravings that seemed to recount centuries of Arkhel's history.
Seated upon it...
A young man remained perfectly still.
His extraordinarily long hair, pale gold woven with silver, fell far past his waist like metallic threads lit by winter.
Crimson robes draped elegantly over his body.
Delicate golden embroidery ran along the sleeves, the collar, and the front of the garment.
His arms rested upon the throne.
His eyes remained closed.
His face bore refined features.
Delicate.
His pale skin contrasted with the silent intensity of his presence.
There was something in that silence...
That made the entire hall seem even more motionless.
Oryn slowly crossed the red carpet.
He stopped before the dais.
He brought his fist to his chest.
He respectfully lowered his head.
Only then did he bend one knee before the throne.
"Your Highness."
The silence remained.
The torch flames swayed slowly throughout the hall.
No sound beyond the crackling of fire.
Oryn kept his head lowered.
Long seconds passed.
"One hundred and thirty thousand men dead..."
Caelith's voice came out calm.
Almost uninterested.
"Nineteen ogres lost..."
"And one of my heads torn away."
The air grew heavy.
"What should be the fate..."
"...of a tool that fails in its only purpose?"
Oryn slowly raised his head.
His grayish-blue eyes met the crimson-red ones watching him from atop the dais.
There was a silent pressure within that gaze.
Even so...
His expression remained unchanged.
"There is no justification for my failure, Your Highness."
"I not only lost nineteen of your creations..."
His eyes did not waver.
"I also squandered the gift that was granted to me."
"If my usefulness has come to an end..."
Silence reclaimed the hall.
"I will pay for that failure with my li—"
"Perhaps it need not come to such an extreme..."
A voice echoed between the columns of the hall.
"Lord Oryn."
Caelith's eyes slowly shifted.
They found the figure approaching.
Footsteps echoed softly across the stone.
A man of almost supernatural beauty walked through the center of the hall.
His exceedingly pale skin contrasted with the long black hair that fell to his waist.
Several strands rested naturally across his face.
Softening his serene expression even further.
His golden-amber eyes remained half-lidded.
As though he observed the world through a compassion that could never be exhausted.
A faint smile rested upon his lips.
Gentle.
Long black priestly robes flowed to the floor.
Golden and deep green details traced the fabric in ancient temple symbols.
The wide sleeves concealed his hands completely.
As though they had never left the inside of his robes.
The priest stopped a few steps from Oryn.
Then turned his eyes toward the throne.
The faint smile remained unchanged.
"Your Highness."
"High Priest Gideon..."
Caelith's voice echoed calmly through the hall.
His crimson-red eyes remained upon the priest.
"I do not recall summoning you."
Gideon inclined his head slightly.
The faint smile remained serene.
"Forgive my boldness, Your Highness."
"But there are moments..."
"...when even the will of men must yield before the designs of Sraosha."
The prince did not take his eyes off Gideon.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
"Curious..."
"I do not recall inviting a god..."
"...to govern Arkhel in my place."
Gideon kept the faint smile.
His golden-amber eyes remained half-lidded.
"I see that Your Highness has learned much from Her Majesty, Seraphyne."
"The resolve you both possess is... admirable."
Caelith rested his face upon one hand.
"Be careful, High Priest Gideon."
"Or I may end up sending you into Sraosha's arms..."
A brief pause.
"So that you may personally confirm whether she truly approves of your counsel."
Gideon lowered his head once more.
"Forgive me, Your Highness..."
"If my words sounded offensive."
His composure remained intact.
"That was never my intention."
"I merely observed a resemblance that seemed... inevitable."
Caelith's jaw tightened ever so slightly.
His fingers tapped the arm of the throne once.
Toc.
"Enough."
The torch flames flickered.
"What have you come here for, High Priest Gideon?"
Gideon kept the faint smile.
"As I said, Your Highness..."
"Even the will of men must bow before the designs of Sraosha."
"The news that reached the temple could not be ignored."
A brief pause.
"The sacrifice of nineteen men..."
"The fall of more than one hundred thousand knights..."
"And the emergence of the one whom some have begun to call the Black Wolf."
Silence settled over the hall for a moment.
"Before events of such magnitude..."
"To remain idle would be negligence that not even the temple could justify."
Gideon held the prince's gaze without abandoning his serenity.
"If Your Highness permits..."
"I will send Boran Graves and Tazir Frost."
"I believe they will represent considerable reinforcements for Arkhel's armies."
Caelith remained silent for a few moments.
"All this time..."
"The temple remained still."
His eyes never left Gideon.
"And now..."
"...precisely now, this sudden desire to become involved awakens?"
A faint smile appeared upon Caelith's lips.
"Do you truly expect me to believe that?"
The air grew heavy.
"High Priest Gideon..."
"What is it you truly seek by extending your hand to this conflict?"
Gideon maintained the faint smile.
"There are, indeed, reasons, Your Highness."
"As you well know..."
His gaze remained serene.
"Some years ago, the Northern Kingdom's Temple was lost."
"Since then, certain questions have remained unanswered."
A brief pause.
"But the true reason..."
"...emerged less than a year ago."
Gideon closed his eyes for a brief moment.
As though granting proper weight to the words that were about to come.
When he opened them again...
His gaze met the prince once more.
"Lys... the Black Spider."
"Iaso... the Surgeon of Death"
"Lyra... the Reaper."
"Zeph... the White Raven."
"And Neriah..."
Gideon slowly brought the sleeves of his robes together before his body.
"Leviathan."
"Five awakened by bloodline..."
"...absent from every record of the Codex of the Fallen and the Exalted."
His posture remained impeccable.
"Five existences that should never have remained hidden for so long."
A brief pause.
"If you ask me the reason for my presence..."
"It is in them that my answer resides."
The torch flames swayed slowly between the columns.
Caelith remained motionless upon the throne.
His fingers tapped the stone armrest twice.
Toc.
Toc.
"I understand."
The words came calmly.
As though none of those revelations had been enough to surprise him.
"I will accept the Temple's reinforcements."
"The contingents of the Central Kingdom remain an unknown."
A brief pause.
"And today's events..."
His gaze grew slightly colder.
"Have turned this conflict into something far more unpredictable than it was this morning."
"To refuse aid at this moment would be foolish."
Gideon inclined his head discreetly.
The faint smile remained upon his lips.
"You will not regret that decision, Your Highness."
Caelith did not answer.
His arms settled once more upon the throne.
His expression remained impassive.
"Lord Oryn."
"Your failure remains unforgivable."
A brief pause.
"And yet..."
"I will grant you one final opportunity to prove that you are still of use to me."
Oryn lifted his eyes toward the throne.
"You will lead Ravana onto the battlefield."
For a brief instant...
Oryn's composure faltered.
"Your Highness..."
Caelith's crimson-red gaze fell upon him.
Oryn cut himself off.
Silence once again ruled the hall.
For the first time...
Gideon's faint smile wavered.
Almost imperceptibly.
The priest watched Caelith for a few moments.
Then he spoke.
"Your Highness..."
"You intend to send the Rakshasa?"
Caelith did not answer.
Gideon continued.
"That being does not distinguish ally from enemy."
"Where it sets foot..."
"...only destruction remains."
His tone remained serene.
"To unleash it now..."
"...will endanger not only the men of the North..."
"...but also everyone who fights beside Arkhel."
Caelith held his gaze.
"I know."
"But the Northern army is no longer what it was a few days ago."
His fingers tapped the arm of the throne once.
Toc.
"If there is ever a moment to unleash a beast upon the battlefield..."
Gideon's faint smile vanished completely.
"It is now."
His eyes remained fixed upon Caelith.
A faint smile curved the prince's lips.
"Lord Oryn."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Inform Lord Alaric of the changes to the strategy."
His voice remained calm.
"At dawn, we will no longer contain the enemy's advance."
A brief pause.
"The time has come to end this war."
"We cannot allow new variables to reshape the battlefield again."
Oryn brought his fist to his chest.
"As you command, Your Highness."
Without adding another word...
He turned toward the great doors of the hall.
His footsteps echoed across the stone.
Gideon remained still for a brief moment.
Soon, he respectfully inclined his head.
"With your leave, Your Highness."
Without waiting for any reply...
He turned and followed after Oryn.
CRRRR...
The heavy wooden doors slowly closed.
The last beam of light from the corridor disappeared between the cracks.
Caelith remained motionless upon the throne.
Long seconds passed.
"It seems some..."
His fingers tapped against the arm of the throne.
Toc.
"...mistake complacency for weakness."
"Keep watch over them."
A voice answered from the shadows of the hall.
"As you command, Your Highness."
Silence once again ruled the hall.