At the same time Fairris was walking out onto the executioners stage in Port Na’brath Lieut stood in the plains of Kalladen. Beside him were King Lienthor, King Haron of I’ender who had joined their cause in Bregta,  Vythe and Regional Commander Rook, and before him stood the black sea of Djarcs. Looming behind the vast army stood the ruined city of Gun dürin nestled at the feet of a tall mountain, and about its peak dark clouds whirled.

“May The Five save us,” King Lienthor said quietly, “What hope do we have if Baelor refuses to negotiate?”

“He will see reason,” Rook reassured the King, and herself.

The sea of Djarcs parted then and four riders rode to meet them with Baelor at the lead. A slight smile came to Lieut’s face as he recognised two of the other riders, one was his brother and another as his old friend, Bārdin. The last rider Lieut also remembered, and the last time he saw Elardōre was when Vythe dropped a whole lot of rocks upon his head near Midway.

The four riders from Gun dürin stopped a short way away from Lieut’s company and walked the rest of the distance. Lieut could feel the tension in the air as Baelor and King Lienthor stared each other down.

“Lieut.” Bārdin suddenly exclaimed and broke the tension, “You’re alive. I never doubted it for a second.”

Surprisingly the burly dwarf moved right up to Lieut and gave him a strong hug around the waist and awkwardly Lieut patted Bārdin on the shoulder.

“It is good to see you also,” Lieut replied with a slight smile as Bārdin released his strong grip.

“I am here as well, Bārdin,” Vythe remarked dryly and the dwarf laugh and gave Vythe a hug as well.

“Raith,” Lieut nodded to his brother, “I had a feeling we would meet up again.”

A slight smile came to Raith’s features and he nodded back. But to Lieut something seemed to be distracting his brother and he noticed Raith’s pale purple eyes watching Elardōre closely.

“I do love reunions,” Elardōre laughed, “Aren’t you going to greet your pal Elardōre nicely, Vythie?”

“You have not been Elardōre since our second escape from the Void,” Vythe said darkly, “I regret not realising earlier the error I made.”

“Shame about your friend,” the bald man seemed genuinely sorry, “But I did enjoy eating his soul, so at least that is something that will help you sleep at night.”

A mask of utter rage came to Vythe’s features, but he held back his anger and clenched his jaw.

“Enough of this,” Baelor commanded, “We know each other, or at least some of us do so let us begin these negotiations. As you can see I control a vast a terrible army, so you human Kings would do well to listen to my demands.”

“We are listening Baelor,” King Lienthor said seriously, “But you have caused much death and suffering that cannot be easily overlooked.”

“And what of you two, Kings Lienthor and Haron,” Baelor was quick to reply, “Rulers of Krenōrl and I’ender. I have seen for myself the war each of you have made in Tyrn and Bregta.”

“That has been resolved,” King Haron replied seriously.

“Which is why you are each here now,” Baelor said, “To resolve the conflict that has been between the Elder Races and humans for centuries.”

“We cannot over look the fact that you have brought a reincarnation of Gildon and his abominable Djarcs into this world,” King Lienthor replied.

“Yet it was a necessary length to arrest the attention of human Kings,” Baelor said, his eyes narrowing.

The two Kings looked to each other and subtly nodded.

“Do you offer terms Baelor?” King Lienthor asked, turning back to the Blood Elf.

A smile came to Baelor’s face and he nodded.

“I want equality for the Elder Races,” the Blood Elf began, “Equality in the form of equal wages, rights, and opportunities that include jobs and lordly titles. I want the land of my people to be recognised as such and for humans to stop taking it from them for their own.”

“I have seen to much of this already,” King Lienthor remarked, “I have passed a strong declaration stating virtually the exact terms you have spoken.”

Baelor raised an eye brow curiously and looked to King Haron.

“I shall do the same upon returning to Alabast,” King Haron agreed, “And together King Lienthor and I shall pressure the other realms into following our lead.”

“You have a copy of this declaration, King Liehtor?” Baelor asked suspiciously.

The King of Krenōrl nodded, and from his cloak he produced a rolled parchment which he handed to Baelor. With a slight look of excitement Baelor took the parchment and unrolled it before him. As he read a smile slowly came to Baelor’s features and he nodded before returning the declaration back to King Lienthor.

“I approve of your declaration King,” Baelor said, “But I would like to add terms of my own which include trade returning to Elestarl as well as the boundaries of the Elder Race’s land, and laws in place specifically targeting racial discrimination.”

“It would be a pleasure to discuss such terms,” King Lienthor smiled.

“Indeed it would,” King Haron agreed.

Then a spectacular thing happened, the two human Kings shook hands with Baelor and all three wore a genuine smile.

“No!” Elardōre screamed loudly, “You are doing it all wrong Baelor, stupid elf. Do I have to do everything myself? I will if I have to, I will burn this land to a cinder. Starting with you.”

Elardōre spun on Raith just as Lieut’s brother drew forth his sword and plunged it deep into the bald man’s chest. But the strike did not seem to phase Elardōre, and he smiled menacingly.

“I told you I had my third eye on you,” Elardōre sneered.

Raith smirked back and drove his other sword deep into the man’s chest.

“I know who you are Brarga,” Raith said, “And I know how to destroy you.”

The demi-god Brarga let out a laugh and shook his bald head.

“If you really know who I am then you know you cannot possibly kill me,” Brarga laughed, but Raith’s smile did not disappear.

“I know you were created from Fog,” Raith said coldly and twisted his blades, “And I know my swords devour the Fog.”

Again Raith cruely twisted his sword and the smile on Brarga’s face vanished. Wisps of Fog started to drift away from the demi-god’s head and shoulders and his outline started to flicker.

“No. Andüer,” Brarga wailed as his limbs started to convulse uncontrollably and he threw his head back and screamed.

Fog was pouring out of Brarga’s body now, much of it being consumed by Raith’s sword but the rest drifted high into the air. A white light started to glow from within the wounds on his chest around the swords and deep from within Brarga’s throat. The demi-god’s screams ended with an unearthly wail and a beam of light shot high into the overcast sky, blowing away the clouds. Then there was nothing left but small streams of Fog that vanished into nothing.

With a sly smile Raith returned his sword to their sheath and others looked around in confusion.

Suddenly another beam of light shot down from the heavens and landed right where Elardōre had vaporised. A burst of wind rushed forth from the white figure that had landed and knocked everyone from their feet.

“Cower before me mortals,” the white figure boomed with a deep and fierce voice, “For I am Andüer, son of Dhror and Melenduil, one of five brothers and your Lord. For the one who killed my child Brarga step forth so that I may judge whether you are worthy to keep your life.”

Lieut and the others staggered to their feet, the faces marked with bewilderment at the tall and noble man before them.

“Speak you wretches,” Andüer commanded, “Which of you was it that destroyed my child Brarga?”

Just then, another bright figure appeared right in front of Andüer with a sword of light that plunged deep into the God’s chest. The attacker was a tall woman, beautiful yet terrible and her face marked with hatred. Andüer’s eyes widened and he grabbed the sword that was impaled through his chest.

“Do you remember me, Andüer?” asked the Goddess Kreha, “Do you remember what you did to me?”

Andüer collapsed to his knees, the light around him flickering and fading, and he looked up in despair at the Goddes before him.

“I only ever wanted to love you,” Andüer stammered, his light practically vanished.

“And I only ever wanted to be with the one I loved,” the Goddess replied evenly and she vanished leaving the sword impaled through Andüer’s chest.

Then Andüer’s light vanished completely and the sound like that of a hurricane was heard as a force of wind rushed into the God. All sounds seemed to disappeared then and a great wave of wind rushed out from Andüer, knocking everyone from their feet again. A searing white light shot into the sky and thunder made the earth tremble.

Lieut looked to the sky in awe as the clouds blew away and the heavens cracked apart as a great chasm opened. From within its black depths a horde of fiends flew forth and into the world. But Lieut could see that they were not demons and devilish creatures, but rather creatures that were only ever heard of in myth and stories. A slight smile came to Lieut’s face as he saw great dragons fly out of the chasm, and beside them were harpies and many other creatures both evil and banal.

“When the veil between the worlds is ripped, the Abyss and the living world will become one,” Vythe said ominously as he stood beside Lieut, “The merging of the unseen world with world of the living will mark the end of time. And at the end of time the Goddess shall rise and with her bring death and destruction upon the world as she unleashes her vengeance upon The Five.”

“There is little time for doom-saying Vythe,” Lieut remarked, “Esspecially when there is an army of Djarcs before us.”

“King Lienthor,” Baelor said, hearing Lieut’s comment, “King Haron, call your army to charge and together we will wipe Gildon’s scourge from this plain.”

The two Kings nodded and Lienthor said, “And after, we will discuss your terms in more detail. The Five only know that dark times are before us and we need to be united against whatever evil has come into this land.”

“The Four you mean,” Raith smirked and gave a wink to Lieut.

Lieut laughed and shook his head, “Come brother, you may have a demi-god to your name but I will still kill more Djarcs than you.”

In reply Raith drew forth his sword and began walking towards the black army. Lieut was quick to join him, as was Vythe and Bārdin, and the Kings and Baelor sent word for the army to march.

“I would have thought the Djarcs would have run,” Vythe remarked with a bit of unease.

“Kill their commander Smaulin and they will,” Raith replied simply.

Lieut glanced over his shoulder to the two Kings and Baelor quickly talking between themselves and pointing to different parts of the massive army before them.  

The sound of a horn echoed behind them and another replied before the sound of marching feet made the ground tremor. From their quick plotting it seemed as if the Kings and Baelor were going to use Lieut and his companions like a spear head and the infantry were coming in behind them as they marched on the Djarcs that outnumbered them ten to one.

The earth trembled as Lord Haron took half his cavalry to the north while the other half headed to the south. The two legions of mounted soldiers were to be the horns of their army and Lieut and the infantry behind him the dagger to strike at the heart of the Djarc horde.

Lieut wore a slight smile as he drew forth his sword and walked calmly towards the masses of Djarcs, Vythe, Bārdin and Raith beside him. A volley of arrows whistled forth from the Djarcs and towards the advancing army, but Vythe and others still skilled with magicks stopped the bolts with a magickal barrier. With the army of I’ender and Krenōrl close behind Lieut the first of the Djarcs was his to kill. Then the allied army of I’ender and Krenōrl sent for their own volley of arrows which rained death upon the Djarcs ahead of Lieut.

Then the chaos of battle engulfed him completely, his sword flashed quickly and viciously, and with every slash and strike Djarcs fell dead. Every now and then Lieut heard a battle cry from Bārdin or felt the rush of magicks as Vythe unleashed his magickal prowess upon the horde of evil creatures.

By now the army had joined the fray and it seemed the Elder Races in the ruins of Gun dürin had also realised what was happening and struck out from the ancient city. But still the Djarcs held their ground against the two forces.

Lieut executed a perfect pirouette around one Djarcs blade and took the head off the next one in line, and then he saw the one that was leading them and keeping them from fleeing the field.

Smaulin stood tall amid the black tide, shouting orders and shoving the Djarcs about. The evil human, originally from Sparren wore a black scale armour and winged helm. Across his left shoulder was draped a black cloak and in his hands he held a vicious looking greatsword.

The mob of Djarcs seemed to part before Lieut as he locked eyes with Smaulin, and Gildon’s commander strode towards him. The evil man was taller then Lieut and his shoulders more broad, but Lieut was not intimidated by his physical appearance.

The two of them met on the already bloody field and sparks flew instantly as their swords connected. Smaulin was using his strength and power, and his swings were fast and vicious. But Lieut kept his feet moving, and worked back and forward, deflecting blows and striking skilfully. Lieut’s sword darted past Smaulin’s defences regularly, but the tall man’s scaled armour protected him well.

Liuet slapped Smaulin’s sword high and spun low, his sword diving for Smaulin’s knee. Somehow though the large man managed to get his sword down to defend the attack. Bouncing from the impact Lieut pirouetted back in the other direction, his sword going for Smaulin’s head. Again Smaulin managed to defend the strike, but he was not quite quick enough. The momentum from Liuet’s spin caused Smaulin’s defensive block to slip and Lieut’s sword collected Smaulin in the head, ripping off his black and winged helm.

Smaulin staggered backwards and Lieut was upon him in a flash. But Lieut was suddenly thrown backwards as Smaulin launched a spell into him. Liuet’s sword turned the spell to Fog and absorbed by the Anther Crystals in the hilt, but he landed heavily on his back amid a group of Djarcs.

Lieut rolled to his feet quickly and jumped up with his sword slicing apart the surprised Djarcs before turning his attention back to Smaulin.

Lieut was surprised as he saw Smaulin no longer wearing a helm, he had expected the commander of Gildon to be ugly and deformed like the Djarcs. But instead the man looked fair and noble, with flowing brown hair and a strong jaw. It was Smaulin’s eyes that betrayed his fair appearance, they were white and pupiless, yet appeared to be seeing. Indeed Smaulin’s white eyes were functional, for he saw a trio of soldiers charge him with swords and axes. But they stood little chance against Smaulin’s dark might and his sword tore them apart before he once again turned his attention to Lieut.

“You are no average mortal,” Smaulin said to Lieut, his voice fair but his teeth and gums were black.

Liuet smirked and shook his head as he slowly approached the commander of Gildons.

“Your strength would be a great aid to us,” Smaulin continued, “Why waste your time with these weaklings when together we could see power and riches beyond our dreams.”

“You confuse me with someone who wants power and riches,” Lieut replied calmly, now only a few paces from the larger man.

“Then what do you want?” Smaulin smiled, “Whatever it is you will not get it with these pathetic humans and Elder Races. Join me and whatever you want can be yours.”

“Really?” Lieut raised an eyebrow, seeming interested and Smaulin smiled evily.

“Well right now, I only want to destroy you,” Lieut said with a cold smile, and Smaulin growled angrily.

Suddenly Smaulin launched another powerful magickal attack at Lieut. Quickly Lieut moved his sword to intercept, and spinning with the blow his sword absorbed the Fog. Lieut felt the magicks tingle within his sword and as he completed his spin and turned to face Smaulin again Lieut released that power.

Lieut swung his sword with great speed and from its ark a blade of magicks thundered from it. Smaulin managed to bring his sword before him to defend but the magickal power was too great and his sword broke. The wave of magicks shattered through his sword and thundered into his chest, blasting away the black scale armour.

A slight smile came to Leiut’s face as he saw Smaulin stagger back a few steps, his arms out wide and his pale chest bare. A look of shock came to Smaulin’s face as blackened blood began to pour out of thin line diagonaly across his skin. Smaulin threw his head back and screamed in agony. His voice sounded above the noise of the battle and made everyone pause and turn to see what was happening.

Strangely Smaulin’s skin began to turn black and the blood stopped flowing from the wound. His screams ended and he turned completely black and stood like a statue upon the field. As Lieut walked closer he could see that Smaulin had in fact actually turned to stone.

But the Djarcs did not turn and flee upon Smaulin’s death, for they knew that they still had greater numbers then the allied forces. The strongest and smartest of the Djarcs quickly took control of the army and shouted orders.

Then came the thunder of hooves and the sound of King Haron’s horn. From the north and south the two battalions of cavalry charged upon the Djarcs. The fiends fell before the horses and were trampled to death or impaled by spears. Before the leaders of the cavalry met they turned towards the east and the line of their allies.

A few meters to Lieut’s right a Djarc was trampled beneath the mighty black stallion of King Haron and Lieut could feel the ground shake as the many horses thundered by him.

With a smile Lieut returned to the fight, for every one Djarc he killed two replaced it. But they died just as quickly as the first. Although the rest of the army was not fairing as well as he was, and it was obvious that the Djarcs were in control of this battle.

Again the cavalry of King Haron thundered by, this time going in the opposite direction and to the north, but no less devastating to the ranks of Djarcs. But even the charges from King Haron, the infantry of King Lienthor and Lieut’s skill the Djarcs continued to attack and over run them.

One Djarc jumped upon Lieut, his rapier diving for his face and neck. But Lieut easily slapped the thin blade away and glared at the Djarc.

“On guard fiend,” the Djarc surprisingly said as it took up a swashbuckler’s stance.

This Djarc seemed to be a twisted form of a Lord or noble and wore very old and tattered clothes that were likely made from expensive fabric and once must have had intricate designs upon it. In Lieut’s mind it was as if Gildon had simply taken average people and bent their thoughts to desire only the pain and death of others, and that desire was reflected upon their twisted features and bloodshot eyes.

But that was the end of Lieut’s musing and he quickly launched a series of attacks upon the Djarc, forcing it backwards quickly and severing its hand.

“I say,” the Djarc said strangely as it looked at its black and bloody stump where its hand had just been.

“By your leave, good sir,” Lieut said sarcastically before decapitating the Djarc and moving onto the next one who wore the rusted armour of an ancient knight.

As Lieut moved in towards his next victim the ground suddenly trembled and a gust of wind rushed across the battlefield. A deafening roar sounded above the din of battle and Lieut turned quickly to see a massive dragon amid the sea of Djarcs. The beast’s black scaled claws swiped at the Djarc, ripping them apart and sending others flying through the air. With another roar the dragon unleashed its terrifying breath upon the Djarcs, turning dozens instantly to charred corpses.

Even though Lieut was quite a ways from the awe inspiring beast he could feel the heat of the dragon’s fire breath upon his cheeks and arms. Lieut’s eyes sparkled in excitement as he looked upon the beast’s splendor. Its great leathery wings, its shining black scales that could deflect even the sharpest of blades. Lieut imagined the challenge of facing such and animal and a slight smile came to his face.

Again the dragon unleashed its fiery breath upon the Djarcs and Gildon’s army broke rank and fled in fear. The fight had also left the minds of the allied forces and they too fled from the dragon.

Then Vythe was beside Lieut and pulling on his arm to retreat also.

“Come on Lieut,” Vythe said emphatically, “Even you cannot hope to defeat such a beast. Have you forgotten the one made of Fog we came across in the Gaia Mountains? This beast’s breath is not made from Fog, Lieut. Even you would be turned to a blackened corpse. You cannot fight such a beast. You can only run, and hope it does not notice you.”

But Lieut did not run and pulled his arm from Vythe’s hand.

“I don’t think I will get a chance to test your theory Vythe,” Liuet remarked, a little disappointed, “The dragon leaves anyway.”

Liuet was right and with half a dozen charred bodies in its claws the dragon stretched its wings and took off into the sky and towards the Iron Mountains.

As the beast left the allied armies of human and Elder Races chased the Djarcs from the field. King Haron’s cavalry broke apart the lines and made a path for the army of the Elder Races to meet up with the allied force and pursue the Djarcs from the field. Most ran to the Iron Moutains like the dragon, or south to the Foglornt Forest, either way the goodly folk had triumphed over their evil foes.

Lieut killed another Djarc as it tried to flee passed him and flicked the black blood from his sword before retuning it to his shoulder, and the specialised clips that held the blade in place.

The sound of battle became distant and the groans of the dying and the cries of the living replaced it. Lieut looked around him and to the hundreds of dead or dying. Bodies of humans, elves, dwarves, Sātor, or Mōrgul were bloodied and dead atop and among the fallen Djarcs. A mournful wail from the side caught his attention and Lieut looked to see two soldiers arm in arm as they shed tears over their fallen comrade. Among the weeping, others stood with vacant expressions as they looked about the battlefield, all baring grievous wounds and bloody weapons.

“Such loss,” One soldier said absently as he walked past Lieut, “Did so many have to die?”

“Such is war,” Lieut replied simply, but the soldier did not hear him and continued to wander about as if looking for something.

It was amid the fallen bodies of Djarcs, humans and Elder Races alike that the two armies met and Baelor shook hands again with King Lienthor and King Haron. The dead were taken away where their names were written down and their bodies burned with respect. The bodies of the Djarcs however were simply tossed into a pile and set aflame.

A grand tent was pitched in the middle of the field and beside the statue of Smaulin where Baelor and the Kings continued their negotiations.

Lieut met up with Vythe, Bārdin and Raith in front of Smaulin’s statue. Both Bārdin and Vythe bore many wounds, though none life threatening, whilst he and Raith had barely any cuts at all.

“Ninety-one fell to my blades,” Raith remarked as he came alongside his brother.

A slight smile came to Lieut’s face, “Ninety-five, including this one,” he replied and Raith cursed quietly.

“Is that all?” Vythe asked with a wide smile, “I killed one hundred and twenty of the foul creatures.”

“Your magicks don’t count, Vythe,” Lieut replied simply, “It has to be by blade alone.”

Vythe scoffed at the remark, “Make up rules when they suit you Lieut,” Vythe said a smile, “Whatever helps you sleep.”

“I don’t sleep,” Lieut replied.

“Well I got eighty-seven with me axe,” Bārdin laughed loudly, “Do I get some sort of prize?”

“Bārdin,” Fluna the Wood Elf called as she came over to them, tears running down her face, “Its Dwilt, he is asking for you.”

Bārdin’s mirth vanished and nodded before following the Wood Elf. Raith also left and followed Bārdin, which caused Lieut to watch his brother walk away curiously.

Lieut followed also, as did Vythe, and soon the came upon the sad scene. A black bearded dwarf sat upon the ground his back against two other dwarves, his face and body covered in blood. A slight smile came to Dwilt’s face as both Bārdin and Raith knelt down beside him. Lieut stood back from the exchange and did not hear what was being said, but he could see that the dwarf would soon die from his wounds like the two dwarves that he was sitting with.

Later that evening Lieut discovered who Dwilt was, and also learnt the names of the other two dwarves who had died beside him: Blarren and Nald. But what he found most curious was Raith’s reaction to the news, his brother seemed genuinely saddened and even more surprisingly was the way Raith was comforting the Wood Elf, Fluna.

The night was filled with mourning and sadness, and those who were still alive drank heavily and toasted to their fallen brethren. The Elder Races from Gun dürin had camped with them on the fields of Kalladen and shared their own sorrow. Where the dwarves drank with the humans, the elves had a different way to express their grief and they sung softly into the night with the Sātor and Mōrgul cats.

As Lieut, Raith, Vythe, and Bārdin sat around a fire at the foot of the statue of Smaulin’s that night, they each spoke quietly of their own adventures and experiences.

“By the way,” Lieut said to Raith as they all sat around the fire, “I found the woman you have been trying to remember.”

“What?” Raith exclaimed, “How can you know?”

“Because I remember everything now,” Lieut replied, “Her name is Elza and she is the Captain of the ship The Sparrow. We sailed with her from Pentra to the Crystallis Isle.”

A sudden realisation came to Raith’s and a smile spread across his face. But that quickly changed as Raith cried out in pain and clutched at his head. As Lieut had anticipated the returning of Raith’s memories forced his brother into a screaming fit as the Fog pushed its way out of the scar across his eyebrow. His brother’s cries echoed into the dark skies and brought shocked looks from Lieut’s companions, as well as nearby campsites. Raith’s fit did not last long and the wisps of Fog disappeared into the night sky where the great black chasm remained, its outer edges glowing a sickly green.

“I remember,” Raith said quietly as he wiped the blood from his face. “I remember everything.”

As Lieut sat awake that night he wondered what he would do now, what Kreha had asked of him was done. So what now? Raith also remained awake and staring into the fire, but the two of them did not talk. Lieut could tell that Raith would leave soon and begin his search for Elza. Lieut wondered if he should look for Fairris, but every time he thought about her Lieut’s stomach would twist uncomfortably.

“Lieut,” Raith spoke up and he looked away from the fire, “What will happen when all the Fog in our heads leaves?”

The question surprised Lieut and he could not think of an answer, nor could he really say he had given it much thought.

“Will we go back to way we were before?” Raith asked seriously, and Lieut gently ran his fingers over the scar across the left side of his head.

“Perhaps I will die,” Lieut remarked quietly.

“I cannot go back to the way I was,” Raith continued, “I will die before that.”

“I don’t think it will come to that,” Lieut said unconvincingly.

“But you don’t know for certain.” Raith said, “How can you know for certain?”

“Perhaps we should go to Lancer, where Gar’lin is,” Lieut suggested, but Raith shook his head.

“I am going to find Elza,” Raith said with certainly, “I will leave tomorrow. Then after, perhaps I will see you in again. If I am still alive by then.”

Lieut nodded slowly, “Good luck, brother,” he said sincerely and Raith looked at him curiously.

“What is this?” Raith asked as he looked at Lieut, “Could it be that you have finally accepted the changes within you, Lieut?”

Lieut did not reply and Raith smiled as he looked back to the fire.

***************************************************

When the hurricane of wind swept across the land upon Andüer’s death Kil’dar had been sitting upon his rock overlooking the city of Lancer and a sheer drop to the canyon floor. In his meditative state he had not heard the roll of thunder or the swirl of wind. But the force of the gust had awoken him with a shock as it blew him from his sitting position and out into the open air. Only his quick reflexes saved him and hand shot out and somehow found a hold on the side of the cliff.

Hanging on desperately with one hand Kil’dar took several deep breaths as he realised his predicament. To make things worse Nanil was not with him to help him back up onto the narrow walkway. Gritting his teeth Kil’dar swung his other hand up and managed to climb back onto the walkway where he shook his head and took anther deep breath. Looking to the sky Kil’dar jumped to his feet, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide with disbelief. Stretching across the southern skies was a massive chasm of utter darkness, its jagged edges glowing a dark green as hundreds of creatures swarmed forth into Essinendüer.

For many minutes Kil’dar stood there in awe and wonder. What had happened and what did it mean? His trance was suddenly broken as a great white dragon flew over the mountains before him and towards the north. Quickly Kil’dar left his meditation rock and headed down the path and back into the city of Lancer.

“What is happening Kil’dar?” one warrior asked him as he entered the city, “What is this rift in the sky?”

Kil’dar shook his head, “I don’t know,” he replied honestly and smiled, “Exciting though, isn’t it?”

The warrior looked at him in disbelief and Kil’dar continued on his way to the castle. The streets were still cold, but at least the snow had stopped, which was a good thing, even better considering Kil’dar noticed that all the windows in the city had shattered.

“Kil’dar, did you hear?” another warrior asked him as he reached the doors of the castle, “The elves and dwarves are saying it is the end of the world.”

“What?” Kil’dar stopped.

“They are saying something about a Goddess rising and killing The Five Gods, and destroying the world,” the warrior explained, his expression showing his concern.

“That prophecy,” Kil’dar nodded as he remembered, “I would not worry about it.”

The warriors did not look convinced, but they nodded as Kil’dar moved into the castle. Although he had said not to worry Kil’dar was in fact a bit concerned about these new events.

“Surely such a prophecy is not real,” Kil’dar mumbled as he moved through the castle’s corridors and recalled everything he had read on the matter of the Goddess.

As he neared the High King’s private quarters the sound of yelling was heard within and Gar’lin’s assistant came running out the door a frightened look on her face.

“Kil’dar,” Gar’lin roared as he entered and closed the door behind him, “What in Hell is going on?”

“You mean the rift in the sky?” Kil’dar asked, appearing as if it were nothing.

“How can you be so calm?” Gar’lin yelled with wide eyes, “Did you see that beast that flew over us and to the north?”

“The dragon,” Kil’dar nodded, “It was an Emerald Snow-scale if I remember the lore correctly.”

The High King looked at him incredulously, his breathing heavy.

“Dragons are nothing to worry about,” Kil’dar said calmly, “They mainly keep to themselves, eating every fifty years or so and killing anyone who disturbs them. Or so the tales say.”

Gar’lin rubbed a hand across his face, his eyes wide, which Kil’dar regarded curiously.

“The chasm in the sky, Kil’dar,” Gar’lin said slowly, emphasizing each word, “What is it?”

Kil’dar shrugged, “Some kind of natural phenomena, if I were to guess. Similar to magicks I assume. There is a prophecy that predicts such a thing will happen just before the world ends. But I never put much faith in religious predictions.”

“What is the prophecy?” Gar’lin asked seriously.

“It involves a Goddess getting free of her prison and killing The Five Gods of this land,” Kil’dar replied casually, “As she satisfies her vengeance the world becomes destroyed.”

Gar’lin took a deep breath and slumped into his chair, “The end of the world,” he mumbled and Kil’dar raised an eyebrow.

“You fear it,” Kil’dar said with surprise and anger came to Gar’lin’s eyes, “You fear what you do not understand. This is why you fear magicks and the Fog as well.”

“I am the High King of the Wyner,” Gar’lin shouted as he jumped to his feet and strode towards Kil’dar, “I do not understand the concept of fear. It is my enemies who fear me and fear my anger and wrath. A Wyner who fears is not worthy to be part of this world. I do not know fear!”

Gar’lin came right up to Kil’dar’s face, his eyes burning with anger. But Kil’dar did not back away and held the High King’s stare with a slight smile on his face.

“The Black Rangers,” Kil’dar said, breaking the tension and Gar’lin backed away with a confused look on his face.

“It has been The Black Rangers who have been attacking our people,” Kil’dar clarified and Gar’lin pumped his fist triumphantly.

“They will know fear,” the King said happily, “Good work Kil’dar. Now, those fools will taste the bitterness of our vengeance and cower before our might.”

“It was Nanil who discovered it,” Kil’dar said, grabbing the King’s attention, “You remember the Nanil, don’t you? She is the Wood Elf that was with me.”

“And it is a good thing you disposed of her,” Gar’lin waved his hand, “But perhaps she had some uses after all. But that is not important anymore, now you and I will plan how to pay back The Black Rangers the blood they have shed.”

“Their headquarters are in Sparren,” Kil’dar remarked as he took up a seat in front of the desk.

“Where is that?” Gar’lin asked seriously, and Kil’dar almost laughed aloud.

“Norrendōrel, my Liege,” Kil’dar replied with a smile, “The southwestern realm of this land.”

Gar’lin nodded excitedly, “We shall depart within a tenday. Go, make the preparations, I have things to think about.”

Kil’dar nodded and rose from his seat and left the private room, closing the door behind him. It was simple enough to relay the orders to the soldiers and they all seemed relieved to finally be seeing some excitement again. For the rest of the day and late into the night Kil’dar made his own preparations and decided to meditate again in his private rooms.

It was very early morning when Kil’dar was pulled from this meditations and the sounds of battle rung in his ears. He jumped to his feet and raced out the doors of his room and through the castle. Quickly he was outside in the courtyard, but by then the fighting had already come to an end. In the yard Gar’lin stood with several warriors, and angry expression upon his face.

“Kil’dar, since when do you sleep heavily?” Gar’lin snapped as Kil’dar approached the group.

“It must have been one of the rare occasions,” Kil’dar replied with a shrug, “What has happened?”

“The Black Rangers,” one warrior remarked, “They preempted us and attacked. But they also underestimated us and it was only a small group. Only one of our warriors fell.”

“You see Kil’dar they dare attack us here, in our own city,” Gar’lin said angrily, “We will wipe these fools off the face of the earth. Get everyone up, there is no time to wait a tenday, we march out now.”

“They will certainly know of our march,” Kil’dar remarked, “But if we were to teleport into the city of Sparren, the advantage will be ours.”

“We do not need to use tricks,” Gar’lin was quick to say, “We are the Wyner, that is all the advantage that we need.”

“But my Liege,” Kil’dar replied, “Teleporting into the city will work in the same way our crafts worked when we landed in the Morrow Plains. It is a sound strategy and we will have the element of surprise.”

“We do not need to resort to magicks,” Gar’lin snapped, “It demeans us all.”

“How?” Kil’dar asked seriously, “Magicks are powerful and useful. The sword of Ne’our’s that you carry contains magicks and uses it through the Anther Crystals in its hilt.”

“The sword is masterful engineering, not magicks Kil’dar,” Gar’lin replied angrily, “Enough of this discussion. We move out now, with no warriors to remain behind. Send out runners to gather the remaining Grey Company we have working and meet us on the road to Sparren.”

“Yes, my King,” Kil’dar sighed and nodded to the other warriors as the High King returned to the castle.

“If it is not too bold to say commander,” one warrior remarked to Kil’dar, “I agree with you. The magicks in this country are powerful and we should be trying to use it to aid our strength and skill. I think we should also be allowed to form friendships and relationships with the local.”

A slight smile came to Kil’dar’s face and he nodded, “For now I think it best that you keep those thoughts silent. Despite how accurate they are.”

“We won’t be returning to Nevārance, will we commander?” asked another warrior.

“Not anytime soon,” Kil’dar shook his head and the warriors nodded.

“You should be the one leading us Kil’dar,” the first warrior boldly said, “Gar’lin has lost his connection with the rest of the Wyner, and his connection with reason.”

Kil’dar not reply straight away and looked at the two warriors seriously, “I think it best that you both make ready for departure.”

Both warriors nodded and left Kil’dar in the open courtyard.

“And so you all march to Sparren,” Nanil remarked casually as she walked up behind Kil’dar, causing him to jump slightly.

“When did you sneak back?” Kil’dar asked with a smile.

“Well someone had to show The Black Rangers over the walls,” Nanil smiled back.

Before Inüer crested the eastern horizon the army of Nevāranciens were moving along the road to Lancer and leaving behind the city that had been their home for nearly two years. All the Elder Races who had come to see Lancer as a haven were awake to see them depart with curious looks upon their faces, and a lot of them even decided to follow after the Grey Company.

Kil’dar was at the lead beside Gar’lin and the other commanders of the army, a smile on his face. Next to him also walked Nanil despite Gar’lin’s disapproval. Their pace was swift and alternated between a fast stride and a jog, but the warriors of Nevārance were used to such a pace and within two days they had already reached Midway.

Even in Lancer Kil’dar had heard about the destruction of Midway and he was very surprised to see the iconic town looking as if nothing had happened. Although the control of town was now completely in the hands of the Baron of Issia, and it seemed that the Lords of Port Na’brath were not about to oppose it. The army stopped for a day to restock supplies and rest before setting out once again with thoughts of war ever present in their minds.