This time of the year the air was colder, thinner especially this far north. Sound and smell traveled much farther during these days and even he who sat so far away up high on his porch could smell it. Crescent Cakes. The name alone elicited a reaction of suspense from him, considered throughout Aurum some of the best desserts one could buy anywhere. He had not had them in a long time, for they were reserved for special occasions and what more a special occasion than his own coronation. A smile escaped Antares face at the thought of those hard at work so early already. He had always loved to gaze down on Akkad from the castle. The view the various balconies offered was truly magnificent. In front of him below stood the sprawling city, bustling even this early. From this far away he could see there were far more people than usual, over the last several days people had been pouring in from all corners of Iliad to witness the coronation of a new king. With change came opportunity; his coronation was not simply the apportionment of a new monarch upon the throne, but of the gathering of Iliad's people in one location to see the direction of where the new head would lead.

  Antares understood that weight, or so he thought but as the days had gone by and the various meetings with nobles and other members of the Stygian royal family, the grasp of what his role meant finally began to dawn on him. So in the early hours of the morning he would wake up, before anyone but the cake makers, he would wake up before his kin could ask for money or titles, before the humans could ask for land, before the troubles of the day. He would wake up before all of this and simply watch his city come awake. It was a routine that served him well, for the location he chose was a secluded small garden balcony hidden in the castle. Few knew of its location for its full construction was never finished. Royal after royal seemed to neglect it and eventually the garden grew to cover the area.

  The sun's rays greeted his eyes sharply. Before he knew it, daybreak was in full action and with it new challenges arose. He looked out once more towards the city below and then to the mountains that encompassed everything. Akkad sat in the bosom of a beautiful mountain range on every side. Perfectly suited to be protected from attack, a city that could boast the claim in its entire history to never have fallen. A pride that many Stygians and humans from Iliad shared greatly. He shared it too, but he felt right now the biggest threats were not beyond those mountains, but instead behind him in the obsidian walls that housed much of his kin. Games had already begun being played and he was quickly getting tired of them, there was much to do. He stretched and examined himself fixing his appearance, his garment of choice today being something far more revealing than one should be for a soon to be monarch. But the cold air warmed him and he loved the sensation against his skin.

  "There you are."

  Antares turned around, "Here I am." he said.

  Casspien gave him an annoyed look.

  "Don't 'Here I am' me'" Casspien began, "Like some ponderer... pondering the machinations of the world. We're going to be late."

  Antares corked his head, "Ponderer pondering? Really?"

  "Oh shut up, I don't want to hear it." Casspien moaned as he motioned Antares to follow him.

  The two began their walk back into the castle. With the coronation so close at hand the castle was as busy as ever. People were scurrying in different directions having conversations stopping to exchange the usual pleasantries with another fellow noble. It made Antares happy, the large castle was built for occasions like this where people would gather to enjoy themselves, they headed for the main hall. They continued to bicker as they made their way, truthfully it was about nothing but Antares did not care. The mere fact that such a meaningless conversation was being had was proof to the young prince that he and Casspien were still as close as ever. Something he was glad to realize.

  "Excuse me, your grace?" the words bumping into each other called from behind them.

  "Hm?" Antares turned to face the person, "Oh, Cirella, good morning."

  Cirella bowed gracefully, carefully hiding her anxiousness, hoping it was not noticed. But it was.

  "Good morning kin-" she began.

  "Oh no please when it's just us we don't have to be formal." Antares encouraged.

  "I agree." added Casspien.

  It relaxed her slightly.

  "Ah then good morning to you both." She nodded to both, they returned in kind.

  "What is it you need?" asked Antares.

  Cirella glanced slightly over at Casspien before returning her gaze to Antares, "Well it is that matter I've been trying to discuss with you the last few days." She struggled to get the words out.

  It was clear she was intimidated by them, this was the longest conversation Cirella had ever had with the young prince and perhaps the first she has had with Casspien ever. But she had grown desperate, she was scared she did not believe in her husband's plan with the Lords of Grain and Coin. She did not want to be part of the bloodshed, she did not want her children soaked in that blood. She believed if she came forward and told the prince what plot lurked in the dark she could save her family. But every chance she would get to speak with Antares it would be thwarted by some cause or another. She hoped this time would be her chance.

  "Oh yes that!" Antares exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "Unfortunately now is not a good time, I am late for something urgent."

  "But I hav-'' Before she could begin she was cut off.

  "I know and I am very sorry but there's just so much to do in preparation." Antares finished.

  Cirella sighed, she did not want to lose her composure but she was running out of time, in less than a few days her fate and her families fate would be sealed in blood and she just wished to warn him. Frustration began to slowly root itself in her heart. Her husband was never this busy when he ruled.

  "I only just wish to-" Once again he interrupted her looking for a reaction. She did not give it this time.

  "Honestly, what could it be that is so important?" Antares asked her.

  Cirella struggled to get the words out of her mouth, now that she had the opportunity to do so the weight of what she was doing lay heavy on her shoulders. She simply looked down. Resigned to be mute. Antares put a warm hand on her shoulder and gave her a warm smile.

  "Look, go wait for me in the king's study, when I am done with Casspien we can talk privately."

  She agreed and recomposed herself. She thanked them both and bowed deeply. She went on her way deeper into the castle. They watched her turn the corner.

  " You know I'm still undecided." Antares said, crossing his arms.

  Casspien raised an eyebrow. "On what?"

  "Killing her or not." Antares stated flatly.

  Antares had long known of Cirella's involvement with the schemes of her husband and his cabal. Over the days he had discovered much, through the help of Rodrick who was very willing to share who were the members in this cabal both Stygian and human that aimed to harm him. Finding both her name and Daimion's listed as one of those who were against him hurt him. But Daimion he could forgive for he was young, he did not know better. But not Cirella, she did know better and yet she dared to go against him.

  "What do you think? "Antares continued.

  "Kill her." Casspien began, "Daimion is young he doesn't know any better but she does. She knows the gravity of what they are attempting. The danger she is putting her children in."

  Antares scratched his chin and let out a sigh. He would think it over, he still had some time until he would see her again. Right now his focus was on the special guests waiting for him at the great hall.

  They made their way to the entrance and there before them stood a sight to behold, decorations adorned every wall leading into the castle. Various colored ribbons danced around in the air, in the corner music being played. Guests were pouring in, perhaps for the first time the magnitude of the coronation felt heavy on Antares' shoulders. Lady Alena had spared no expense over the last several days planning for his ascension, Antares could see how much it meant to her. Every so often the people below would glance in their direction, offer a bow and move along. Even here his presence was still felt.

  Casspien patted him gently on the back, "Do not falter brother, we were prepared for this, it's a momentous occasion."

  Antares tried to give him an assured look and hoped he seemed more confident than he felt. This was different from the battlefield, or the brothels.

  As they made their way down the winding stairs, there stood before them the special guests that Antares was meant to meet. The High Priest and High Priestess of the faith of The Many Faced God, the largest religious group in Aurum. Flanked on either side of them were men adorned in white robes covering their appearance save their mouth. Behind the high priest rested a gilded chair.

  The high priest himself was a short and stubby man. The years were not kind to him, it seemed the mere act of standing caused him such great pain. His white robes glistened with various jewelry sewn into it. One could see the craftsmanship that was meticulously used to create such fine fabric. The rings adorned on his swollen fingers were as expensive as they shined brightly. Around his neck hung more jewelry yet it seemed to weigh him down greatly, his breathing labored. Atop his round bulging head, his priest headwear was covered with sweat. His appearance caused many to revolt and Antares was no exception, except he did very well to hide it. With a warm smile he greeted the old human.

  "High Priest Valstrak, it is an honor to have you." Antares bowed slightly.

  An outstretched pale arm reached for Antares.

  "Ah my boy, it has been too long, too long hmm? Look at you, the little snake becomes a viper, congratulations." the old priest finished, each word heavy and labored.

  Antares faked a chuckle and humbled himself before the high priest. Religion was something that held great sway in Iliad despite what Stygians might have thought. And especially so for those who lived deeper into the wilds. Humans from their very first appearance in Aurum had carried the faith of The Many Faced God. One hundred thousand years later and the same still rings true. The influence the church had was something that was always vastly undervalued for their words greatly moved the masses. However the relationship between the church and the royal family was always strained, for the Stygians who did not believe in the gods of any faith viewed the Gods of the humans as nothing more than caricatures of themselves. This was not a secret, yet still in public both parties managed to at times, throughout the millennia, show a united front. But that front had weakened over the last few centuries. Wars within Iliad and outside of her had occupied the minds of the Stygians. To them there was no time for kneeling in front of an altar. Kneeling meant one's head was low enough to be cleaved by a blade. If the humans were so adamant for gods, they could pray to the Stygians. Such a common thinking amongst the ancient civilization. Even the late king himself subscribed to it.

  King Barranagan's reign was one that many believed was peaceful. In truth, that peace was borne out of fear of what the king would do to those that would upset it. For if the king could slay his own brothers, who opposed him? What hope could there be for any other? Such power allowed King Barranagan's to do as he desired with little to no resistance. And so when the king married a princess from the Storm Islands who worshiped the twin Storm Goddesses Astrid and Bodil, none dared say a word. In fact with her arrival, Iliad saw an influx of other faiths often not seen this far north. This weakened the influence of those who worshipped the Many Faced God. But they could do nothing but welcome them with open arms. Antares was aware of all of this, long before he had returned to his home. His main focus was seeing how the church would take his ascension and then proceed from there. He had an idea that they would not be so readily accepting of him, given who his mother was. But he did not care. The unification of a fractured Iliad would start with its place of worship, faith would be restored with the royal family. And if he needed to use the high priest he would.

  "A thousand apologies, it is an honor to meet you." a slender outstretched arm reached for him.

  Antares and Casspien turned their attention to the woman next to the high priest. She was covered in the same white cloth as the high priest but her clothes were not made of the same material. Yet, her clothes did little to hide her appearance. She was a slender human woman, simply just standing there she exuded grace. All but her eyes were covered, she dressed as though she were a common worshiper of the faith, not someone who spoke for the gods. Her simple appearance intrigued Antares for from his own recollection, the high priestess was an old woman. It seemed his reaction gave away the question that was on his mind.

  "Oh dear me, the previous high priestess was far too ill to continue her duties. I was the one the Gods chose as replacement." The high priestess bowed gracefully.

  "Ah yes, yes." belched the high priest, "You know how these things are. God's move strangely, but this one here is good." he finished with a gargled laugh. He gave Antares a look and Antares motioned him to take a seat on his chair, one he quickly accepted.

  "Ah I see, how unfortunate." Began Antares, "I was looking to speak to you both."

  Antares was wary of this new high priestess. She was an unknown that he could not account for. Had it been the old high priestess it would have been easier to manipulate them. They were both people who liked the finer things and Antares could use that to his advantage. But with this woman before him did not know what she wanted.

  "Oh you can talk to me. I speak for both of us." Said the high priestess. He could not see her face but from her eyes he could tell she was smiling.

  Antares turned to the high priest to confirm if what the woman said was true.

  "Hm Right... Yes, yes she does. The God's speak to her more than me, your lordship." It seemed sitting on the chair eased him greatly.

  "If that is the case, please high priestess follow me. Casspien will stay here with the high priest." Antares said, showing the high priestess down a hallway.

  Casspien gave him a look of discomfort and Antares tried his best to stifle a smile.

  "Um one moment-" began the high priestess.

  "What the fuck is this?"

  Feral-like pressure emitted from the direction of the grand entrance to the castle. Everyone in the hall shuddered. Antares and Casspien were no exception. Some collapsed, others held on as best they could. Their skins pricked at the overwhelming intensity, such as it felt like a thousand blades cut them. Such a ferocious presence was intoxicating. But just as the overwhelming sensation arrived. It vanished. All turned to look at who could command such space violently.

  "Xenon!" remarked Antares loudly.

  "Do not respond so casually. "Xenon chastised him.

  Xenon Xerxes approached with an air of malice. His notoriety was as widespread as his eccentric violent demeanor. A man born from the union of a Stygian and a Nephilim. A union many would consider thought to be impossible but here the young lord was proof of such a thing existing. To call his birth one borne from love was nothing short of comedic. He was created out of necessity, out of a foolish lord's desire to compete with Barranagan Xerxes. Xenon was the product of careless ambition. A stain the Stygian royal family could never wash away. For Xenon would not let them.

  When the dust of conflict had settled, Xenon's father left the battlefield with a second wife and a son. A shame he would never live down. Even still Xenon's infamy was not for being a half-breed, something that should have mattered given his mother being a Nephilim. But instead, it was because despite the nature of his birth, such a man became a Lord of War. For the ancestors to find such favor in him, put the Stygians at a crossroads. Among those King Barranagan chose to become Lords of War, he found the most resistance from the elders about Xenon. But in the end the Will of Barranagan was absolute, at the time. And so he was given the honor to die in pursuit of such power. And to the shock of the elders he attained it.

  His reward for achieving the greatest honor of his people was his appointment as Lord of Eirdu by King Barranagan. It was a shock to everyone including the troubled noble himself but he quickly realized the prize they gave him was nothing more than a glorified cage to keep him close. But he did not care, even in a cage he would do as he desired. He took the title and all the power it had. Eirdu was the southernmost city in Iliad and thus this gave Xenon control over what goods were allowed to enter into the kingdom. With Daimion and the other members of the king's council closing the borders over the last five years, they unwittingly handed Xenon greater power than he already had. This was all the more apparent with the attempted wedding of one of the royal princesses to him by the council, which he rejected. To Stygians, Xenon was a Lord of War, an honor that transcends other honors. And yet he was detested all the same.

  "Oh come now, I haven't seen you in so long." beamed Antares.

  Xenon approached with two women wrapped in his arms.

  "The rumors were true, weren't they? You've joined the Many Faced God?" Xenon could not hide the disgust on his face as he gazed at the priestess.

  "What are you talking about?" a quizzical expression came across Antares face.

  "Ignore him." Casspien motioned back to their guests. He was not amused.

  "And you." Xenon turned his focus towards Casspien.

  He sized up Casspien. Xenon was bigger than him, he was bigger than both of them. His broad shoulders gave him a hulking lean look. His dark skin glistened in the light. He wore nothing but the lower half of Stygian royal attire and covered himself with the finest bear fur. His ears and eyebrow were strewn in with various piercings. A low buzz cut his hair of choice, covered with white blonde hair with dark spot patterns. His eyes had a purplish red like sunset to them, they glowed deeply. He was handsome in a violent way, a face full of features that accented each other and his appearance did nothing but highlight that.

  Casspien barely saw the blow before it was thrown. Years of training under the harshest conditions honed his body into a killing weapon. To a point he sometimes did not even have to be aware of danger before it happened. This was one of those moments. He was blown back several feet in shock. His bones rattled in response.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?" Casspien scowled.

  "I wasn't loved much as a child." Xenon, corked his arm for another blow.

  Casspien despised every time he ran into his older half-brother. Xenon was prone to lashing out at whatever caught his displeasure, more often than he would've liked, he bore the brunt of it. He was all too familiar with these mood swings. Much of their early lives were spent together juxtaposed, while Casspien was touted as the heir apparent, Xenon was irrelevant. One born of a stygian mother, the other a spawn of their greatest enemy.

  "Must we do this every time?" The air began to get cold around Casspien. Ice began to form in his palm.

  Xenon perked up. "Oh? Maybe you are a Lord of War after all." He said with a toothy grin revealing some jeweled teeth.

  "Enough."

  The power in Antares words made it reverberate throughout the room. The guests that had begun to make themselves sparse at the sight of two Lords of War coming to blows could do nothing but stand there in shock. The absolute weight behind Antares' kings speak was overwhelming. The priestess shuddered under an enormous weight she could not see. She had heard stories of this ability and those who could wield it. But nothing could compare to experiencing it. It was as though her entire being down to her very atoms were under the control of one singular entity. Her existence for one purpose, to serve without restriction without fault. To oppose the command would be to oppose life itself, she could not, she would not. This was kings speak used by a true monarch.

  Xenon threw his hands up in surrender.

  "No need to get so serious. I was just being difficult." Xenon said, pouting.

  "When are you not?" Casspien sighed, regaining his composure.

  "Fuck you."

  "Eat shit and die."

  "Enough." Antares said. He put a hand on both their shoulders. They always antagonized each other. It secretly amused him, but the older they all got the more at risk their altercations became of involving innocents. Antares did not want blood on this day, enough of it would be spilled already.

  "Xenon it is wonderful to see you again after so long. But cousin, you must stop listening to gossip. I have not joined the Church." Antares said with a reassuring smile.

  Xenon relaxed.

  "Oh? Then I'm satisfied" he said, fixing his bear fur.

  "Casspien will tell you all about it, won't you Casspien." Antares turned to one of his oldest friends.

  Casspien began to protest, the thought of entertaining his older brother and the high priest brought him a wave of exhaustion he had not felt in a long time. It was still early in the day, he did not know if he would have the strength to do what was required of him.

  "O-of course. If that is what my prince wants." He said through gritted teeth. He emphasized prince.

  "I'll pass." Xenon said in protest. He wrapped his arms back around the waists of his two female escorts.

  "Why?" Casspien asked strangely intrigued.

  "I don't care anymore, and the way you explain things is very boring." Xenon said flatly.

  "I do not." Casspien said sternly.

  "Well..." Antares thought out loud.

  Casspien glared at Antares and he looked away. He used this opportunity to break away with the high priestess from the group. He turned back as Xenon was making his way.

  "And Xenon." He began.

  "Yeah?" Xenon said with a twinkle in his eye.

  "There are children here, please be mindful of the activities you partake in with your... friends." Antares said warily.

  And so the prince of coin laughed and walked his way deeper into the castle. Antares and the high priestess bid farewell to the high priest who was eager to eat something and was accompanied by an annoyed Casspien.

  The two made their way deeper into the castle, as they walked they talked about many things. Nothing of importance, both danced around what they wanted, each person waiting for the other to make a move. Antares took the high priestess through many rooms throughout the castle. Rooms that contained great stories and rooms that were unknown. He talked to her about the various portraits of his kin that covered the walls, he told her of stories he knew of them and of the ones he didn't, he and her speculated. He did not expect that he would find her company so pleasant. Despite all of her covered but her eyes, he could tell she was beautiful. For no one with eyes those ocean blue could not be. He took her to a balcony overlooking the city of Akkad, and in the distance you could see the Church of Multitude in all its glory. She leaned against the balcony and slivers of blonde hair shone slightly in the light.

  "Will you kill the high priest too?"

  The high priestess laughed.

  "I actually like him if you can believe it." She began, "He is very simple. Very simple."

  A moment passed between them and Antares joined her leaning against the balcony.

  "That old hag isn't going to die." She caressed the stone balcony slowly. "Just needed to get her out of the way."

  "To do what?" Antares asked.

  She turned to him ever so slightly, her eyes gently meeting him. The sun was as magnificent as ever, in some way she found strength in it. Through the light he could see under the veil that covered her. It was just enough sunlight to expose her slender face, a face full of disdain.

  "Change, just like you." She looked off into the distance, Antares could see a long memory had caught her attention.

  "Like me?"

  "Yes, you're the people's hero. The Lord of War, a Storm Lord, one of the four vanquishers of a thousand men, the slayer of lightning and thunder. Have you not heard the stories?" She asked mockingly.

  He laughed.

  "They're just that, stories. Most of them mean nothing."

  She moved closer to him.

  "Most? Then what does?"

  Antares turned to look out at Akkad. The city was as lively as ever, scores of people littered throughout the city. He had seen such a sight before many times throughout his youth in the castle and yet he was never satisfied. He loved his home deeply, despite all the pain that came with it. When he looked at Iliad's potential, an unending boundless amount of it, he wanted to see it flourish.

  "My Kingdom. My people." he said confidently.

  "Then let me help you."

  He turned to the high priestess. "What is it you truly want of me, high priestess?"

  "A favor." She began, "I want a favor from you king Antares. I want you to allow the faith of The Many Faced God to grow. I want you to look the other way as I cheat, steal, beat, torture, and chase away those who do not align with my faith and goals."

  Antares cocked his head sideways, his demeanor instilled some fear in the high priestess, she knew what she did was a gamble, and yet she had no choice, the king to be was her last resort. Where the high priestess wore a desperate fear covered expression, Antares donned a more quizzical one. He was completely taken aback by the high priestess' demands. Not for once did he take the slender petite woman before him as someone who could speak that language. One so universal that words often not be spoken between those who knew it. Antares had been around humans his whole life, his own mother being one. And still they continued to surprise him with their tenacity. With their desire for power. He was very amused.

  "Alright." He extended his hand.

  The high priestess took it cautiously. "Just like that?"

  Antares kissed her hand, her skin soft.

  "Just like that, high priestess. I need the faith of the people, and if that is what is required. It will be done." Antares gently let go of her hand.

  The high priestess could not believe it. What she did took courage, great courage that she did not know she had in her. Her dreams and desires hinged on what she told the king to be and for him to so casually accept it, made her feel small. This was the second time today she felt the power of a monarch, she would not forget it.

  "You truly don't care do you?" she asked.

  "Your human gods are your own. I will allow whichever faith unites the humans in my kingdom."

  "You people are so fascinating." The high priest moved closer to Antares.

  She laid her hand gently on his cheek.

  "I wonder what it feels like to think so highly of yourself to believe there is nothing greater." she began, "Do you see all of us as lesser or, children running around playing make belief. I suppose they are the same thing." There was a hint of sadness in her voice.

  He gently grabbed her hand on his face and took it off.

  "Let us not turn this into philosophical discourse, high priestess. I simply wish to do business with you and you with me. Let it simply be that." Antares gently caressed her hands.

  He truly was in no mood to have such conversations. Humans had always had an uncomfortable relationship with Stygians and their lack of faith. Among the many things that separated them, it was one of the most cumbersome too. Stygians perceived the world differently and it was not something that could be so easily explained to humans, their sensations were far more heightened, their perception of time and space were also different. Still there were those on either side who disliked this great difference so much. Antares was not one of these people. He did not care. He saw humans the same way he saw his people, none more evident than his love for all the people of Iliad. The high priestess mused.

  "Very well, your highness, Thank you. I hope I will be able to call on you when the time is right." She said bowing deeply.

  "And I you high priestess." Antares bowed slightly.

  The high priestess made her way back the way they came. Antares took a moment to himself at the balcony to reflect. He was unaware such a person had existed in the church, he was interested in who the high priestess was. Her desperation was amusing, yet he was quite aware of what was to follow. But if it meant the people would restore their faith in the royal family he did not care.

  Now that he had finished meeting with his guest, the young prince made his way back to his fathers study where Cirella waited. He groaned as he made his way there, he had hoped the situation would resolve itself. There was still much to do, more of his kin would arrive along with human nobles, tensions would rise as the days grew closer to his coronation. Being only two days away, it felt as though it would never arrive.

  He approached the door of the chamber and opened it gently. Cirella immediately stood up, she had helped herself to the wine and it now dawned on her that perhaps that may not have been the wisest move however it did not seem bother Antares that she had done so. They exchanged pleasantries and Antares went around the king's desk and sat on the chair. He rubbed his head.

  "Is everything okay prince Antares?" Cirella asked softly, surprising herself with her genuine tone.

  The prince contemplated his options, he knew what he needed to do and yet he hesitated. His father had told him a king never hesitates but in this moment he did. Weakness was not something attributed to his kind, yet it was something he felt in that moment. He chose to heed Casspien's words and instead combat it with conviction in his beliefs. He raised his head to look at Cirella.

  "I am going to talk and you are going to listen. When I am done talking you will have a very short window to respond. And in that briefest of moments, what you say will determine your fate." Antares said.

  "O-okay." Cirella agreed, she could not hide her fear.

  Antares straightened himself in his fathers chair.

  "I do not know where the conflict between us arose. I feel as though I have always been welcoming to you and your children. What is it that I could have done to you, or to Daimion or to Samara or Loukas that would require me to find out from Rodrick Rokbane that my own brother and his wife are conspiring to have me killed?" Antares began, his tone not changing a single note.

  Deafening silence filled the room. Cirella was at a loss for words, blood rushed so loudly through her ears she struggled to stop herself from covering them with her hands. To think that she would be betrayed by Rodrick before she could do the same to him. She would have laughed had fear not gripped her so tightly that she struggled so much to breathe. Her mouth closed shut. Words unable to come out and still her king was not done.

  "But it is alright," Antares began, "If you wish to think of me as this monster, then I will show you how monstrous I am, dear sister. Right now Guinevere and a group of her soldiers should be at lord Aldios' home. Where he and lord Omiros are gathered with their families and a small force. Of course neither you or your husband are aware of this because they do not trust either of you and are going to escape and leave you behind. Rodrick has been more than forthcoming with information about all of you over the last few days."

  Cirella's heart beat loudly and she struggled greatly to hear Antares' words. She did not know what to do, everything she had done, all the promises and deals and slithering along in the dark were all for nothing as her king dragged her entire cabal to light. She was the one standing yet she felt small.

  "They are dead." Antares stated. His words startled Cirella, " And soon everyone part of the plot on my life and the continued corruption of Iliad will die. In mere moments the streets will run red with blood. But you, you are different, not because you were blessed to be born Stygian. No, you are blessed because it is my own brother you married and bore children for. And for that alone, I will show you mercy. You have until Guinevere's Butterfly arrives to tell me everything." Antares rested his hands on his lap and waited.

  While he spoke tears ran down Cirella's face. She had planned to tell him the truth but she did not know he knew this much already. She was scared, she wished she had come with her husband but she knew he wouldn't have agreed to this. She had believed going behind his back was the best way to save her family and at that moment it did not feel like it. Neither of them spoke, silence sat between them all but the soft sobs of Cirella interrupted the silence. She didn't care anymore, she would do what was right, even if it meant her children would grow without a mother, she knew lady Alena would raise them well. Through tear filled eyes she began to speak, but just then a Blue Moon Butterfly flew in.

  ?

  They made their way through the down trodden path. The massive trees that dominated either side of their path allowed patches of sunlight to slip through the surface. This illuminated a vibrant forest. Various colors of green danced across the leaves painting a serene like picture of the beauty nature offered this time of the year. In only a few months, this lush green forest would be covered by thick white snow. Her thoughts were of many things, both things to come and that had passed and yet she found herself unable to fully grasp on to any thought that popped in her head. Her golden armor reflected the sun's light. It made her look like a beacon of light, a direction for those to follow. She had elected not to wear her helmet, something she would rarely ever do. Instead she had it secured by her side. She did not want anything to cloud her eyes when she did what she had to do. She wanted to remember. Nothing would impede her sight.

  "Lady Guinevere are you alright?" called the voice to her left.

  Guinevere composed herself and her horse gave a worrying shudder. She patted it on the side and turned to her left with a warm smile.

  "Oh you need not worry about me Melina." Guinevere responded.

  "You say that yet your expression is one full of sorrow." Melina pushed back, furrowing her brow.

  Guinevere chuckled and rolled her eyes. She had always known Melina to dote over her ever since they were young. Despite Guinevere being twenty-two years old and her only twenty one would be forgiven for thinking Melina the older sister.

  "My mind wonders, I think of things past and those to come. It is nothing sister." Guinevere returned her gaze to the path ahead.

  "But-" Began Melina.

  "Enough." commanded the voice to their right.

  Melina turned and gave a dirty look to the woman glaring back at her.

  "Why must you prod, you know the immense stress she is under." she began. "There is no point talking about it, we all feel it."

  "Now, now, Sula, Melina is just nervous there is no need for all of that." Guinevere waved her hand, dismissing the argument that was brewing between the two.

  Ursula bowed her head in forgiveness.

  "Yes my lady." she said softly.

  She turned to look at Melina who gave her a sly smile, which irked her more than her face could convey. Calming herself, Ursula turned her head away and raised out her hand. A Blue Moon Butterfly flew out of the air as if appearing out of nowhere and landed gently on her outstretched finger. She brought it close to her mouth.

  "Report." She demanded the butterfly.

  A moment passed and a voice far away, yet near all the same came forth as the butterfly flapped its wings. "Lady Ursula, It is as you have wished it, they are unaware of our presence, but we can see them."

  "Have you confirmed the appearances of the lords?" Ursula asked.

  "Yes my lady, they are within the villa." the butterfly fluttered its wings violently as though it shared in the excitement.

  " How many guard the residence?" Guinevere asked, keeping her gaze ahead.

  There were several large gasps heard from the butterfly. A voice struggled to respond.

  "Princess Gui-"

  "It is General Guinevere." Interjected Ursula.

  The voice gasped as though in pain.

  "A thousand apologies general."

  "How many guard the residence, do not make me ask again." demanded Guinevere.

  "We count 50 men. Led by lords, Davos, Grey and..." The voice trailed off.

  There was a lull in the air as they rode on their way. None needed to say the name, and all the same it bore being said.

  "Lord Bracca."

  The butterfly flapped its wings again and Ursula calmed it down. Despite the winter months fast approaching, the morning air was hot and heavy. Guinevere knew what awaited her was no easy task and in truth it was something she had no desire in taking part in. But she volunteered for this, she wished to show her brother she was with him. But perhaps far more importantly she wished to show him and the rest of her people that she was capable, that her father's blood flowed through her veins as well.

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  Bracca Xerxes would not be an easy challenge. For his tales were long as they were storied, a man said to have fought during her own father's time. Surviving such an era was enough to crown him one of the strongest and yet it was not enough to give Bracca what he wanted: the title of a Lord of War. Something he held King Barranagan responsible for and all this time later had yet to forgive. She now understood her brother's hesitancy in sending her. But it would not dissuade her, she gripped the reins of her horse tighter. For five years she was locked in a war that she could not win, this time she would show them her might.

  "That is all, we are but moments away, await our arrival." Ursula said.

  "As you command it shall be done my lady."

  Ursula extended her hand away from her and the Blue Moon Butterfly flew off and just as it was there, it disappeared. They marched in silence for a time, all that could be heard was the various sounds emanating throughout the forest around them. It would be half a day's march at the pace they were going to make it to the villa. The path they traveled was one not rarely taken, hence their slow march. They wished to avoid the main roads or eyes of anyone who may catch wind of what they were sent to do. Antares had stressed that no one should know of their task, secrecy was far more important than completion.

  Guinevere understood what was asked of her but however, since she had begun this march she could not escape a sense of emptiness that began to grow inside of her. She moved red hair from her face back behind her ears. For five years her enemies had been the Nephilim, she had cut more of them down than even her own brother, her hammer had known no other blood. They had been her people's enemies for eons and yet here she marched to battle, not to fight those who could wield blood as a weapon, instead she marched to battle her own kind. She had always believed spilling the blood of one's own kin brought with it calamity, this ruthlessness of her new king was new to her.

  "We made it." Melina said with a cheerful smile.

  She spurred her horse forward into a small trot and made her way for the clearing up above. Seeing her go past her made Guinevere smile. Her black hair streaked past her revealing a kind beautiful face. Melina greatly resembled her mother in all aspects but personality. Her buoyant nature made those around her desire her and those who could not have her, were satisfied with protecting her. Her eyes danced with the same color as hers. For not her appearance, Melina would not have been thought of as a Stygian, let alone the younger sister of Casspien and Xenon Xerxes. And Guinevere could not agree more. She was the antithesis of her people, she was loud, emotional, impulsive, she sought life with joy and did not shun the unknown like how they were raised.

  "Will she ever learn that she is of royal birth?" grumbled Ursula.

  Guinevere laughed as Ursula came up right next to her. Her short black hair, just like Melina's, also carried constellations within it. Her hair was evenly cut across her shoulder. Piercings adorned her lips, her nose and her eyebrows. Her features were thin and sharp, she looked as though she was carved from marble itself. An elegance that was not easily matched. The intensity of her sunset eyes were accentuated with the black eye liner that was carefully applied with the utmost care. Her blank expression often made it difficult to discern her thoughts and made others uncomfortable in her presence. Something Ursula found joy in.

  "You are too hard on her." chimed Guinevere.

  "And you are too soft." retorted Ursula. "But... Her words ring true, you have not been yourself since we started this journey." She added.

  "Do you feel as though we are doing the right thing here today?" Guinevere asked Ursula, which seemed more like a question to herself.

  Ursula took a moment to answer, Guinevere was not only her princess and general but most importantly of all, she was her dearest friend. She could not know the pain she had been in since the passing of the king. The return of her brother seemed to bring the color back to her but still the air of sadness could not be shaken. Ursula wished to do anything to lift the burden. She knew how much Antares' approval meant to her general. So she would not say anything that would jeopardize the opportunity to win it.

  "For the last five years we were sent to fight an impossible war by your father's council." she began "While our home suffered in our absence. What we go to do now is the first time we have been acknowledged as knights, true knights who serve the crown. We cannot falter. You cannot falter." Ursula finished.

  She bit her lower lip. She was annoyed with herself that she had to be so harsh towards Guinevere. But she knew she spoke the truth, this was the opportunity they had been asking for, to show their people they too were warriors.

  "You're right. I am sorry for worrying you sister." Guinevere gave her a warm smile and Ursula could not help but blush. The beautiful gaze of her princess was far too strong for even her steel appearance. She could do nothing but look away. Guinevere laughed at the sight of her friend.

  As they made their way to the clearing they joined Melina at the top, what awaited them was a breathtaking sight. Green fields as far as the eye could see, only cut off in the distance by large mountains. The fields were divided up by stone pathways that snaked around in different directions. Each field of grass bore different flowers, some from Iliad others from far away lands. The sun's light danced softly off the petals of the flowers, each one coming alive. Stone statues littered the courtyard some of them Guinevere could recall others she had no knowledge of. On the other side were fields dominated by various livestock and foods. Some people tended to them, others watered plants. In the center of this beauty stood what could only be called the centerpiece. A massive castle stood tall. Its gray stone walls glistened brightly under the light of the sun. It did not compare to castle Xerxes but it was not for lack of trying. Guinevere could tell whoever designed this, made it so it would be compared to her home. Each pillar connecting the stone wall boasted intricate magic carved on to it. Even from this far away she could feel its power. This truly was a beautiful land she had come to, one that reminded her so much of home in many ways, she wondered if one day someone would bring death to her home as she was going to do here.

  A man made his way towards them, as he approached he dropped to his knees and bowed deeply. A day he would not forget, a day that would be remembered by his family for as long as they were permitted to live.

  "Raise your head." Guinevere spoke.

  The man did so gently, he wished to take in the sight of his princess. She sat atop a gilded white horse adorned with various jewelries and honors. Even the man was in awe of such a magnificent creature. Her armor blinding in the light, gold was carefully woven into the chainmail that covered the gaps in the armor piece. As he locked eyes with her he lost himself in her beauty. Guinevere's red hair was barely contained, pulled back and covered by a golden scarf. Her face was bare for all to see, for all to revere. A golden red hue covered her eyes, a firestorm seemed to rage in the distance, it would consume him if he continued to look, he willed himself to look away and he could not. He opened his mouth to speak and no words could be heard. He swallowed and willed himself once more.

  "Your eminence, we bless your arrival." the man said bowing again.

  "What is your name?" Asked Guinevere.

  "Bastion, my general." Bastion mumbled. Realizing the princess would not have heard him he began to speak again. But Guinevere raised her hand.

  "You have done well Bastion." she began, " You will be rewarded."

  Bastion could no longer feel his legs, to see the royal princess was more than enough for several lifetimes, having her speak his name in praise was something he could not comprehend. Tears began to form around his eyes and he bowed repeatedly. He thanked her repeatedly despite no words coming out Guinevere believed she understood what the human man was saying.

  Guinevere turned to Melina and nodded, she returned one in kind. Melina raised her hand.

  "Halt." She spoke clearly and concisely.

  The forest around them began to rustle and groan, the ground shook softly and before Bastion a mile in either direction emerged the rest of Guinevere's' army. Only a small detachment from the main force returned with her to Akkad. The rest she left battling over Hightower. Her Soldiers adorned in Ilian black armor carrying the banner of house Xerxes, a great purple serpent with golden scales wearing an onyx crown and the Sigil of their commander. A menacing red wolf. As they appeared across the line, Bastion backed away slightly, he could feel the bloodlust exuding out of them. They were people chosen to fight alongside the princess, people who were deemed worthy to die for her. He could not hide his jealousy. Guinevere was quick to notice and offered words of comfort.

  "What you have done here cannot be understated. Take pride in that." she finished.

  Bastion lowered his head in embarrassment and sheepishly nodded along.

  "Return what I gave you." demanded Ursula.

  Her tone startled the man and he quickly extended his hand towards hers. And from his fingertips glowed forth a Blue Moon Butterfly, it flapped gently around Bastion and returned back towards Ursula. As it reached her once more it disappeared as it appeared. Bastion bowed again and made his way.

  "Are we really doing this?" Melina asked, not hiding her concern.

  "Yes." Guinevere said coldly. "Send him."

  Melina bowed her head, she motioned for someone to appear and they did. Out from the forest stepped forth a man covered in robes. Different snake patterns slithered their way across his garments as though they were alive. One did not need to know to tell he was someone of great standing. On his back he carried a large cylindrical scroll. Stygian words were carved into the metal rod that tightly bound it together. Mana leaked from the scroll. Its concentration was so high, it gave it physical properties. All three of them did not fully grasp the gravity of their undertaking until they saw the scroll. What it symbolized and who it represented meant everything to their people.

  It had been five years since they last saw an Akashic in person. One of them traveled with them when they were demanded to capture Hightower. At the time they had believed it would be a good omen for so many famed conquests had one of them present. Now their very sight unsettled them. But this was their custom, this was their way when such great change was to occur, when such blood was to be spilled by the blades of the crown. The Akashic removed the scroll from his back and unfurled it in front of him. It hit the ground with a massive thud, he effortlessly scrolled across what he was reading as though looking for something. Upon finding it he laid the scroll flat on the floor. Even as the day's sun shone brightly, the skin of the Akashic was ever still so pale. From their hair to their eyelashes, all of it was covered white. Such odd beings. Even though she knew the truth, she could not bring herself to call them Stygian. But nevertheless they were, the same blood that flowed through Gilgamesh flowed through her and them. But most important of all she could not deny her own brother, her own king, carried the same cursed eyes the Akashic had.

  From her position upon her horse, Guinevere could see the contents of the scroll, it was empty. No words had been written, she remembered this from the first time she witnessed it. And so as the Akashic spoke his words loud enough for all to hear in every direction, so too did the words begin to form on the scroll.

  "On the eve of the twilight birth of a new serpent. The branch wilts under the foul stench of betrayal. Death comes for two, Aldios, Omiros. May the ancestors grant you mercy for you will not find it in this realm." he finished.

  Although the Akashic was no longer speaking it continued to move its mouth and words continued to form on the scroll. An uncomfortable sensation came over them.

  "I hate when they do that," said Melina.

  "Me too." Agreed Ursula.

  Guinevere would have agreed had her attention not been focused on the small group that began to emerge from the castle ahead. The air became heavy as they approached. She motioned her horse to move and it trotted along towards the group. Ursula and Melina followed in tow.

  Bracca greeted them with a scowl.

  "What the fuck is this?" he barked at the princess.

  "Bracca Xerxes, I have no quarrel with you, move." demanded Guinevere.

  Bracca flared his nostrils, the air around them cracked with pressure. She had hoped her strong demeanor would push the mad Stygian back but it only enraged him.

  "My father declares war and this is who they send?" he spat at her horse's feet. "Where is the king to be, where is your brother?"

  "Bracca Xerxes, I have no quarrel with you, move." Guinevere repeated.

  Guinevere continued to hold Bracca's gaze, she would not allow him any room. The lives she had come to take were enough for this day. Lord Aldios appeared from behind his son. His face was visibly shaken.

  "You think you can do this to me? To my family?" he began. "I will not stand for this, the eld-"

  "The elders are not your concern. Prince Daimion named you and Lord Omiros as co-conspirators scheming with human lords and merchants against the crown." interrupted Guinevere.

  "You would listen to the lies of the man who led us? Daimion is the one that came to us!" yelled Aldios.

  Guinevere maintained the same expression, her horse stepped around as though it grew inpatient with the conversation at hand. She patted its side as though appeasing it. She looked back at lord Aldios.

  "My twin brother is young, he was swayed by your words." she began.

  "You cannot be serious?"

  "I will give you an opportunity to prepare your family and that of Omiros for execution." she continued.

  " You would damn children?"

  " Davos, Grey, and you Bracca, have been granted clemency by your king. The crown does not believe you to be traitors or willing conspirators, you are free to leave and marry." she finished.

  Her words were strong and proud. The authority of her brother gave her strength.

  "Return to the castle father." Bracca motioned.

  As his father began to plead again, one look from his eldest son was enough to render him silent. He motioned back to the castle escorted by some guards. Bracca turned to look back at Guinevere.

  "When I gut you, and drag your entrails to your brother what should I tell him your last words were?" Bracca cracked a wicked grin

  "You insolent fuc-" Ursula began drawing her blade the bloodlust building.

  Guinevere raised her hand stopping the furious Stygian woman in her tracks.

  "You do this, there's no going back. You know this, you all know this?" Guinevere gazed into the eyes of the men that opposed her, opposed her brother. She could see the hatred flowing out of their eyes. In his infinite wisdom he had granted them mercy. And instead spat in the face of her king. It angered her in return, what could Antares have done that would warrant such a glare?

  "Very well. Stay together. Die together." Guinevere turned and marched back towards her army. Ursula and Melina followed suit, first exchanging scowls with Bracca.

  "You will need more than that to stop me." He barked at them as they left.

  "I will be a enough." replied Guinevere.

  They made their way back to the Akashic. She exchanged looks with Ursula and Melina. No words were needed, they knew they could not stop her. The decision had been made long since they arrived, it would be her hands covered in blood, no one else's. She came down off her horse and took off her breastplate. She then removed her gauntlets and the chainmail she wore. She disliked wearing her full armor set, it served more to be for show than protect her. She recanted Ursula telling her that it galvanized the spirits of her men and she scoffed then, as she did now. She did not need armor to galvanize; she would do it the only way she knew how. She gave her sisters one last look and turned around facing the gathered enemy in the distance. She inhaled, then leapt a great distance.

  As she landed she was surrounded before she finished exhaling. Bracca's men had already drawn their blades and advanced with overwhelming speed. She did not see the blades for she had no need to, she moved through them with such agility they couldn't reach her. Each man moved with the ferocity of a hundred battles, tearing the wind with each swing of their blade. She was glad they were only human. Had they been Stygian warriors, she could not afford to be this reckless. Guinevere leaped over them avoiding the wild slashes, in the air two more appeared behind her, both bringing down their blades. Maneuvering herself in the air she grabbed both their hands and flung them back towards the men below her. Those below dispersed as both men cratered the ground upon impact. Bathing the ground in a red mist. As she fell back down to the ground she braced herself as a barrage of icicles pierced her skin all over. Not even her padded shirt offered much protection. The barrage of cuts lasted long enough to cover her vision, giving an opening for another attack from behind.

  Had the man not hesitated in fear of getting caught in the barrage of icicles he would still have his head, instead, Guinevere held it by his hair. She gazed at Bracca who remained unmoved from his position. She threw the head at him and it was torn to shreds before it reached him, Davos made sure of that. The fight resumed with blistering speed, this time Guinevere took the lead, she crushed Bracca's men one by one, each blow she delivered at the point of contact an explosion of blood and guts. Body parts littered the ground. They slowed their approach, their wanton violence seeming to be subdued by the overwhelming intensity the general gave off. Their numbers had been cut in half, the air was filled with fear, Guinevere could smell it, it excited her. Before the man to her left had time to react, a golden hammer materialized itself in her hand and she smashed it into his face. Logging it. Numerous carvings covered the handle of the hammer within it; its name was written in the Stygian language: Heracles.

  Guinevere stood atop the long handle of Heracles with hands on her hip.

  "Surrender now and your deaths will be painless." Guinevere said unimpressed. She moved red hair from her face.

  Bracca's men began to back away, each one wary of moving forward. They had heard of the strength of the Red Wolf, but to experience the formidable fury was different, it was intoxicating.

  "Bring me her head!" Bracca barked.

  "You don't have to tell me twice." Davos unsheathed his blade and closed the distance to Guinevere. She kicked off Heracles as it flipped into her dominant hand.

  As they collided with weapons, a wicked explosion cracked throughout the air. Sending gusts of wind and rubble in every direction. Davos could not believe the mighty strength Guinevere possessed. She did tower over him, but he could not imagine a possibility that her height and size were a reflection of her strength. In fact he believed they did not accurately capture her might. He knew she was not exerting her full strength, a slight he would not forget.

  "Perhaps the stories about you were true." Davos gave Guinevere an unwelcoming grin.

  "Unfortunately I have heard nothing about you to compare." She said without expression.

  Davos' anger threatened to boil over.

  He had heard tales of Guinevere Xerxes and her rise as a mere princess, to a knight to leading her own army. Of course to him he held no stock in any of the claims. She was the daughter of that monster who disguised himself as mortal. Everything had been handed to her from the moment she was born, she was not like him and his brothers. The fires of war that had forged them, that they had survived could not compare to the fragility of today. She simply was a product of her birth, she was nothing more than a pretender.

  "You insolent brat, I'll kill you!" Davos growled.

  He took his off hand and drew it across his blade.

  "Frost Arts: Ice Sheath."

  The air around Davos cooled rapidly and power poured from him. As he passed his hand across his blade, a rigid layer of ice began to form across the steel. Coating the blade in his anger, his disdain, his fear, his power. The blade glowed as the ice reflected the light all round.

  "You know you should take this as a sign of respect." Davos began swinging the sword around as though testing its weight. "It has been a while since I needed to use my abilities."

  Davos continued to talk unaware she was no longer listening. Guinevere planted her hammer on the ground and massaged her shoulders, nervousness had made her stiff. The cuts across her flesh from the icicles did not hurt, in fact had there not been marks across her body she would not have been aware she had been cut. In truth more than anything she was slightly disappointed at the strength of Davos, to have been the brother of Bracca and to show such weakness, it made her wonder if that is how others viewed her and Antares. She had grown disinterested with the duel. She got low and stretched her legs once more.

  "You talk a lot when you are nervous." she began, "It is unsightly."

  Before Davos could resume his assault he was met with a golden lion's head crashing down upon him, he reflexively defended himself, his blade and knees absorbing the impact. The ground around him splintered and cracked. She gripped the hammer with her second and the power of the attack tripled. To Davos the weight behind Guinevere's attack was far heavier than before, as though he took a blow from Bracca himself, no it was far stronger than anything he had displayed. Impossible, he thought. What is this strength? Does she use magic?

  "Sorry I've yet to use magic, or anything of the sort." she responded as though she could read his thoughts.

  She kicked him hard in the stomach. It sent him flying backwards, his vision blurred as he gathered himself, vomiting blood. The strength behind her kick surpassing his ability to protect himself, thoughts of his brother filled his mind. He turned to look back at Bracca whose expression was one full of fury. At that moment he realized his mistake. There was no time to turn back, he rolled out of the way as a golden light came crashing down next to him. The ground tore open and bits of earth flew in every direction. As they fell back to the ground Guinevere swung Heracles once more in his direction. The force of the swing propelling pieces of the ground towards Davos. Each piece fast enough to hit him before he could react to the death blow above his head.

  "Frost Arts: Ice Age." Davos willed all the magic within him into the ground itself.

  The ground shuddered under the immense magic that was coursing through it. Each break in the ground bore with it giant shards of ice in return. A layer of ice covered the ground for some distance, the only thing breaking the uniformity of it through the ground was the previous impact of Guinevere's hammer in the ground.

  Davos had unconsciously released so much magic upon the threat of imminent death. There was no time to react, Ice Age an ancient ability of his people created during the primordial wars. Magic that would freeze everything that came into contact with it. Its single purpose, to repel all who attacked the caster. The threat of such an attack came from its area of effect encompassing everything that opposed it. Ordinarily this would have resulted, with the entirety of the green fields covered in ice, but not this time. They stopped short of Bracca's feet.

  Where his head should have been, her golden hammer rested firmly on top of it. Squirts of blood shot out from what was left of his neck. Davos' arms were locked in a defensive position, as though his body still wished to protect a head that no longer existed in this world as it once was. She breathed heavily, she was not expecting him to use such an attack. There was no time for her to react, instead she followed through and hoped her hammer would kill him before his ice shards would pierce her. The familiarity of pain welcomed itself to her as she gazed upon the right side of her body. Massive ice shards around Davos' corpse had shot straight into her right shoulder, and her right kidney; various other shards had made home in her body, none of them lethal. The cold metallic taste of her blood filled her mouth. Holding it in caused her great pain and threw it up before her. She wished to catch her breath.

  Bracca slammed into her with enough force to send her flying a few hundred meters away. She tried as she might to slow herself by grabbing the ground but the force was enough to daze her, eyesight blurry. The second blow came directly at her torso puncturing a lung, the shock lifting her off the ground. The next blow came from behind her. She would make sure that never happened again. He buried his fist into the back of her skull, her momentum shattered the ground around them. Her body bounced off the ground, she was quickly losing consciousness. Without much effort he grabbed her ankle and repeatedly slammed her into the ground; the brutality of his attacks on full display, not giving her a moment to recompose herself. And still Guinevere was calm, never once faltering, as she bided her time.

  Bracca flung her into the air with such force, he could feel her ankle break as he let go. She hung in the air for a moment for all to see. Her thoughts were filled with the sky and her home, she wondered if this was the sight dragons saw flying so high above. Her herself never having seen a dragon, a painful smile came across her face. The firestorm in her eyes glowed dimly, as though it approached. From so high up she could see so far, she could see all her brother wished to protect and she too would do what was necessary. She would paint the green fields of Iliad blood red if it was what her brother asked for. As she fell back towards the ground in the face of defeat she found her resolve.

  "Frost Arts: Bracca's Gauntlets." Bracca smashed his knuckles together.

  Mana flowed around his arms, the violence of his powers were felt throughout the area, even Ursula and Melina were not immune to the pressure. Ice began to form and take root, coating all the way up to his forearms. What formed on Bracca's arms were more akin to those of beast-like claws than gauntlets. The Frost Arts had been a unique branch of Ice Manipulation that was subjected to use by those incapable of proper attunement of true Ice Manipulation done by Stygian Warriors. Still its destructive power was often highlighted as being far superior for such arts coming from a time when power was sought over skill and finesse.

  The blow delivered by Bracca as Guinevere fell in front of him should have killed her. Bracca had killed enough Stygians during his time to know how much force was needed to deliver such a final blow and still, before him as the smoke cleared and all that surrounded them was complete carnage from a single blast of his fits. Had he not been able to hear her faint heartbeat and labored breathing he would have thought her dead. Fucking Giant's blood he thought.

  He jumped into the hole he had created and dragged the general by her fiery hair and threw her out for all to see. Guinevere struggled to her knees coughing up blood and bile. Her ears were ringing, jaw cracked, her sight was lost in one eye, blurry in the other. Yet still she could feel the presence of Bracca behind him. A large man covered in scars, she turned to gaze up at him but all she could see was a vile grin.

  "This is who your king brings to challenge me?" He roared, lifting her by her throat. "I who took part in the unification wars? I have bled and spilled oceans of blood for my kingdom and I am to be killed in such a manner? By a whore masquerading as a general? Is there none among you who can challenge me?"

  None spoke. Nor did anyone react. For none would desecrate the battle of their general. They had not once shown doubt throughout the fight. They had all stood tall and watched with eyes unblinking. Many of them here today had fought with Guinevere over the last five years. Many of them had seen their general in combat and seldom few were her equal. And yet still they knew Bracca stronger than her and all the same it meant nothing. They would not interfere for as long as she drew breath; they knew their general would not fall. The men had long since been made aware the last time King Barranagan took to the battlefield was a time before the birth of their general and yet, to those old enough to remember the last time the king bared his fangs, that sensation of death now filled the very air around them.

  Guinevere watched as Bracca spoke but she could not hear. She feigned speech and he brought his head closer to her.

  "Oh finally ready to plead for your life?" Bracca could not hide the excitement. "Look as your general begs for her life. Remember this day." He brought her closer to his face.

  Guinevere spat blood in Bracca's eyes, suddenly blinding him, in that moment he loosened his grip on her torn shirt ever so slightly. It was more than enough for Guinevere, she swung her body and firmly clasped on to his arm with her legs. She slipped one hand over and one hand underneath his large hand and and with all her might she ripped flesh and tendons off bone. Bracca quickly followed with a blow with his good arm, she expected it. She lunged forward to close the gap as her face met his. She bit off his nose in one clean motion. He reeled in pain for the first time, he swung his hands blindly, she easily sidestepped and extended her middle finger. Her ankle finally gave out due to the stress it was under so her killing blow missed Bracca's eardrum and instead her finger punctured his throat. Ice began to form where she pierced him. Shit, I missed, she thought through gritted teeth. She tried to pull her finger but Bracca grabbed onto her logged arm with his one working arm and instantly crushed it. The pain sent shockwaves throughout her body, vision in one eye had only returned.

  Bracca still held on to her and smashed her back against the ground this time he flung her away from him with all the force he could muster. Guinevere crashed across the floor and struggled to her feet, her wounds throbbing all over. She looked down at her ankle that bled profusely. Her right arm broken, she steeled herself and entered her fighting stance once more.

  "You- you think this is enough?" Bracca said looking at his misshapen hand. "I will fucking kill you, you fucking bitch!" blood continued to pour out from where his nose called home.

  The ground rumbled, not as it did like before with Davos. This was different, raw power burst from Bracca, she had heard he was meant to be a Lord of War like her brother. Even though she would never acknowledge it, Bracca had the power to garner such comparisons. His strength greater than hers in this moment, but nowhere comparable to that of Typhon or the others. Had he not underestimated her from the beginning and attacked when Davos and the others did, she would have lost. It made her sick to be so weak.

  "You think you can compare to me? To my strength? Then have at it, little general." A sinister grin came across Bracca's face. Pools of mana circled around his hand. The sheer amount of them growing by the second. The blue particles were becoming very visible.

  Guinevere immediately became aware of what it was he was trying to do, rather than intercept, she lowered her stance and brought her hands closer to her chest. She shifted her weight to compensate for the broken ankle and broken hand. Eyes unblinking, she was ready. This annoyed Bracca even more, for he was aware of what she was attempting to do. It was madness. It was an insult. He would not allow his honor to further suffer the indignation of this battle or worse yet the possibility of defeat.

  "Sacred Technique: Ice Spear"

  Those words spoken sent shivers down her spine. Crystalline ice began to form suspended in the air above Bracca's open palmed hand. Each piece of ice interlocking, giving way to form. Said interlocking ice gave way to ability as a spear materialized. And as the spear crystallized and hardened, it gave way to prodigious power.

  The ice spear; no technique or weapon is more synonymous with Stygians than what many believe to be their greatest creation. A technique that was used to end an entire civilization, a technique as destructive as it is beautiful. A technique designed to be unstoppable. Guinevere was far too familiar with it, her brother had mastered it when he was only fifteen and a technique he used during the Storm Island rebellions, to slay the Storm Lords, Modi and Magni. It was a technique that once it was mastered, the wielder was often said to be a true Stygian. Even at the distance she could see how the air around the spear froze. But even she could tell the technique was incomplete. Rather she hoped it was given how much damage she had inflicted upon him.

  Bracca threw the spear with all his might. The jagged edges of the spear mirroring his own soul. The force in which he threw it, made the winds howl in agony. The impact upon Guinevere caused a massive explosion that paled in comparison to everything seen before. The force was so great that a great wind storm arose from the point of impact. The path the spear took was frosted with massive pillars of ice sticking out of the ground. A large cloud of cold air made it difficult to see. Soldiers gasped and murmured for the first time, uncertain of the outcome. Melina looked away, finally reaching her limit with the battle.

  "How can you watch this so calmly?" Melina said, holding back tears.

  "We were commanded not to interfere, by our ge-" began Ursula.

  "She's our friend!" yelled Melina.

  "And we are knights Melina!" Ursula snapped, immediately regretting her decision.

  She was just as worried as Melina, perhaps even more so. Several times now she would have jumped into the battle had the order not been given. As much as she loved princess Guinevere she respected general Guinevere far more and she would do nothing to sully that honor, even if it meant watching her closest friend die. She harbored no ill will towards Melina, she rather wanted to commend the restraint that she showed to simply watch. She turned to speak to her close friend.

  "Listen Melina I'm s-" Ursula could not finish for she was interrupted by the indomitable laughter of the man below who claimed victory.

  "Antares! Do you see? Have I not proven worthy to die by your blade? The new world you wish to create that my father rejects. I reject it as well if it means such desecration of our ways. Antares do you see!" Bracca roared into the air as he walked around. Unable to contain his elation at killing the king-to-be's sister.

  He turned to face his father and their castle.

  "Father! This is how you should have faced your enemies. Not crawling around in the shadows like a human, we are Stygian! We do not hide, we take what is ours! I will kill Antares for you and that bastard of a snake he calls brother." Bracca's elation becoming unquenchable.

  Bracca made his way towards his younger brother, Gray who had fear in his eyes, his gaze locked on who stood behind his brother in the distance. Such paralyzing fear charged the air, Bracca's senses were overloaded with the imminent threat of death. It was as though his body was gripped by thousands of arms, none wished to let him go. He had yet to turn around but he knew such terrifying bloodlust came from something behind him. It had been a century since he last felt this sensation.

  "Barranagan!?" Bracca turned with such force almost falling over. He did not realize he uttered the name of the late king until he saw whom such vile hatred came from.

  "Sorry. He's gone, forever..."

  "I-Impossible." Bracca took a step back.

  His gaze widened upon the battered and bloodied, red hair wolf and what she held in her jaws. What filled him with staggering fear was not that she had survived, for few yet in his time had escaped such an attack. No. What gave him pause was the manner in which she survived. Guinevere's eyes followed Bracca's.

  "Oh this? Truth be told, I didn't think I'd be fast enough to move out of the way, so catching it felt like the only path forward." Guinevere could not help but laugh.

  The words she spoke were true. Her mangled ankle limited her mobility greatly. Her broken arm further reduced her ability. So for Guinevere the only other course of action for her was to stop the spear in its tracks. She would not admit this to Bracca but she did not catch the spear with her eyes, instead her body that had been pushed further than she would have liked instinctively reacted to protect itself from absolute death. In that moment, Guinevere called out every ounce of strength she held within her. In her desire, her will to live far exceeded the immense power behind the spear and as the spear threatened to skewer her she stopped its advancement with all her might.

  All those around who witnessed the greatness of their general gasped in admiration. Ursula and Melina were not immune, a sense of relief washed over both of them and they exchanged looks of great elation. Yet both could not shake the sensation they felt a moment before, that crushing bloodlust that originated from Guinevere's position was like nothing they ever felt before.

  Guinevere flipped the spear and aimed it back towards Bracca. Steam began to rise around her destroyed ankle.

  "You think I will give you the opportunity to heal?" Bracca shook himself from his trance and moved with searing speed, but it was too late.

  Guinevere raised her now healed leg and planted it back down with enough force to move the ground. She threw the spear back at Bracca with such potency he was unable to dodge completely, The entire right side of his body was claimed by his own technique. Not satisfied, the spear crashed into the castle with a thunderous explosion. Screams could be heard coming from the castle. Bracca stupidly turned his attention away from her back to the castle.

  "No!" he screamed and turned back to her eyes glowing full of rage. "You-"

  She was gone.

  "May you abandon this anger you carry on your way to our ancestors." she appeared behind him, placing her hands on his head.

  The first and last thought that crossed Bracca's mind was how soft Guinevere's hands were. She snapped his neck with enough effort it tore right off. The shockwave reverberated throughout the entire field and nothing could be heard except the screams coming from the castle. Guinevere looked at her hands covered in the blood of her kin. She could not stop shaking, this was the first time she took the life of someone who looked like her. She hated how it made her feel. She struggled to remain standing, a few steps filled with labored breathing and she nearly collapsed.

  "I have you." Whispered Ursula as she embraced her general.

  Guinevere allowed herself a moment to catch her breath, this was not a fight she thought she could win. Bracca's hubris was the sole reason she still remained in this world. But for the first time as she slowly healed herself she understood the distance in power between her brother and herself, for the first time in five years she could grasp that power she sought. Through gritted teeth she allowed herself to smile if only briefly.

  "T-This fight isn't over!" Grey barked through gritted teeth himself.

  Guinevere turned around to look at the young Stygian whose blade was pointed at them. Grey's face held back tears masked with fear and hatred. Just as he was unsure what to make of this, so too was Guinevere. Melina crossed in front of his path with her hand on her sheathed blade. Her playful demeanor, now one of focused malice.

  "Melina stop." Guinevere struggled to her feet, she had used far too much mana to heal herself too quickly.

  She locked eyes with the young boy, she wished to not have to spill anymore blood of her kin. She more than anyone understood Grey was motivated by duty and revenge, a mixture that had brought about ruin of many of their people. She would not deprive a young Stygian of a future, she knew if she explained it to her brother he would spare him. The battle had already been won.

  "Grey, please listen to me. I am truly sorry, hate me if you will but please stop." Guinevere pleaded with the boy.

  Her words confused him, his resolve seeming to weaken, he had known of the Red Wolf of the north for some time. And although he had been taught to hate the royal family, he could not bring himself to hate Guinevere, for he admired her more than even his own brother. In his most secluded moments his thoughts were filled with nothing but joining her army, being one of her most loyal soldiers vanquishing those who would threaten the crown. But the reality before him was that the person who he most admired, brought death to his door. He was duty bound as the last living heir to face her in combat. Guinevere took a step towards him, her hands exposed, Grey steeled himself.

  "I do not wish to spill any more blood today, none more than your own. Come with me, bring your family, and I will talk to my brother." She began, her eyes full of sincerity. "I swear it on my honor as a knight, you are safe under my protection."

  Grey's resolve faltered under the words of his princess. His head swirled with different thoughts, each one crippling him, unable to spur himself to action. All his life he had wished for independence to do as he saw fit free of control from his father or his brother. But now no longer under their shadow, free to choose his own path he was unsure what to do, the weight of his own life filled within the cold Stygian Steel blade he held tightly. He began to lower his sword. Guinevere could see he was vulnerable, if she could approach him and coax the sword away from him it would be over. She never stopped looking at him as she approached, which is why when Grey was split in half down the middle and as his blood sprayed across her face she was close enough to hear the whispered final words of the last son of Aldios the betrayer.

  "Lady Guinevere help me."

  Four words were uttered, and they were enough for her to lose all reason.

  "What a disgusting child."

  She did not need to see who spoke those words, it made no difference. She would kill them all the same, she swung around with so much force, the intensity of her fist generated with its small embers, her fire giant heritage making itself known for a mere moment. She would vaporize whoever was responsible for this transgression, for the slaughter of a boy who had no desire to fight. The power that welled within her fist was incomparable to anything she had demanded of herself during her fight with Bracca, for she did not know such power within her remained after almost escaping with her life. Such rage could not easily be reigned in once released a phenomena that Guinevere was all too aware of herself so as her fist made impact with the open palm that stopped her strike, the shockwave was enough to bring her out of the madness that consumed her.

  "Are you stupid?" he asked earnestly.

  Guinevere regained her senses, upon locking eyes with the man who so effortlessly stopped her fist, her heart sank and her knees followed.

  "Gwen!" Both Melina and Ursula yelled in unison rushing towards her.

  The man gently still held her fist in his hand, her eyes still meeting his. Many thoughts swirled through her head as she tried to wrap her head around what was happening, her mind was dominated by the fear that had washed over her. The man before her should not have been here, he had no reason to be here at this very moment. He should have been at the castle, anywhere but here and yet still she could feel the cold emanating from his palm that grasped her hand gently.

  "Are. You. Stupid?" the man repeated again slowly, sounding out his words.

  Guinevere could not speak, her words caught in her throat, she knew not what to say to him, how to address him. Guinevere had always been calculating in her approach to anything that was presented in front of her, she had no choice. The position bestowed upon her by her father was one that many may have acknowledged in her presence but she knew what was said of her between those marble walls that she called home. She knew she would not be afforded the same luxuries as other princesses, especially those who rejected their birthright and wished to pick up the blade. And so every action had to have been made with thought and care. And for only the second time as a general, Guinevere allowed her emotions to dictate her actions and it cost her dearly.

  "My sons!" Aldios came running out of his castle.

  A stark comparison of the man who so earlier was confident in the victory of his sons. To see them and those sworn to defend his house laid scattered across him. The ground soaked with the blood of his seed. He broke into delirious ramblings. He cradled Grey's corpse trying in vain to put his youngest back together as tears streamed down the face of the old Stygian, unable to control himself. Shouts began to ring out from the castle as more of his family began to pour out to see the massacre of the heirs, even in the distance Omiros could no longer remain within the castle he and his family surrounded by guards.

  "Stay back!" Aldios shouted towards his family. Waving them back inside.

  It was far too late, he had damned them all. The snap of fingers drowned out all other sounds, as though for a moment that single act commanded everything to obey. And above his castle a violent deluge of mana began to form, and from it an ice spear, bigger than Aldios had ever seen, bigger than he thought possible. He did not have time to look away, nor was there time to plead with the man who had in such a short time become his God. The thought of perhaps praying to him, begging him would be enough to stop him, but the old Stygian had lived long enough to know such acts were not understood by their kind. The act of prayer could only be understood by one who sought something, and the man next to him wanted nothing, cared for nothing but his duty. Aldios watched as the massive ice spear fell with such precision upon his castle. For one moment, all he heard was the screams and for the next it was silence.

  Aldios finally understood why the elders were so uninterested, why they never once objected to his actions. He had believed they saw what he did was for the betterment of all Stygians that he wished to usher them into a new age, a golden era, but deep down within his own soul he knew that wasn't it. For never once did they view him as an equal, as one of them. It was all merely to pass the time, for this is what they had always planned for him to take the throne. He allowed his hubris to play into the hands of his elders and for that his family paid a king's ransom. Aldios turned to look up at him but all he saw was an open palm, a painful smile cracked across his face. Even in his final moments he would not be given the dignity of knowing who it was that did this. He hoped death would be quick and it was.

  The man turned away from the frozen corpse of the betrayer, his attention towards the women now. Winter storm filled eyes looked upon them running shivers down their spines. He dressed in standard Stygian attire, a deep purple showing he served members of the royal family. He covered himself with a black haori embroiled with a golden snake that curled all the way to his shoulder. An expressionless cold face approached them, his slow movement allowed for Guinevere to properly gauge his appearance. She had only seen him a handful of times and yet all the same she found herself always uncomfortable by him. The chain that linked his earring to his nose ring glimmered in the sunlight, a radiance that permeated throughout his entire being. Guinevere shook free of Ursula and brought herself to her knees and bowed deeply, Ursula and Melina did the same, and so did the army, one hundred strong, behind them.

  "L-Lord Azariah I-I" Guinevere struggled to speak, sweat pouring down her face. Of all the people who could be here, for it to be him scared her.

  "Did I give you permission to speak?" Azariah tilted his head to the side. He gazed at the battered general, half surprised she still lived.

  Guinevere remained silent.

  "Was that all of them?"

  "Y-yes... my lord." From the corner of her eye she could see anger building on Melina's face.

  "Very well, you will return to the castle," he finished.

  "Melina n-" Ursula began, but it was too late the young Stygian would not allow her general to be dishonored further.

  "You can not talk to her like that. She is a general and your princess." Melina stood to her feet.

  "Is that so?"

  "Yes, and furthermore what right do you have to be here? To interrupt, we have orders from the ki-"

  "Do you know why it is so hard to kill a Stygian?" Azariah held two fingers to Melina's forehead as she reached for her blade. "Do not bother, you would be dead before you could unsheathe it."

  Melina was paralyzed by fear, she never once stopped looking at the Lord of War and all the same he closed the gap between them so effortlessly. In her attempt to defend her general, her friend, she had forgotten that the man they spoke to was one of the very few that were considered to be at the pinnacle of their culture.

  "It is the brain." Azariah continued, "More specifically, the right side of it. There is a tiny thing in there hidden behind an eons worth of evolution that allows us to heal any injury. Well almost any injury. What do you think would happen if I plucked it out of your skull?"

  Guinevere rose to her feet quickly.

  "Lord Azariah please, she forgot herself. It won't happen again." She pleaded. Ursula bowed her head in agreement.

  "Of that I will make sure." He began to press slightly against her temple.

  "If you do this you will regret it." Guinevere shouted, looking to the floor.

  "Is that a threat?" Azariah stopped and turned towards her, his curiosity sparked. "What will you do? General?" stressing the last word he said mockingly.

  "I will kill you." she said flatly.

  "You think you ca-"

  "And I will die before I can." She continued, "But, you will have to explain to my brother, your king and to Siegfried why you killed me and all my men."

  Even without eyebrows, Azariah managed to still give off a sour expression. His mission here was only to observe Guinevere and to intervene when he saw fit. The death of everyone else could be excused, but not the death of the princess, no matter his disdain for her lack of willpower, she was still the sister to Antares. He would not dishonor him in such a way, not on the eve of his ascension. He pulled his hand away gingerly from Melina and tucked it back inside his haori.

  "You would threaten me, despite your failures here today? To offer clemency to those who wished your king dead? Is your honor that much greater than your duty to the king?" Azariah demanded of Guinevere.

  He had watched the whole incident unfold from the beginning. They were unaware of his presence as he intended. Multiple times he wished to intervene but refrained from spoiling what he thought would finally be Guinevere's opportunity to prove herself as a useful tool for what was to come. But once again her weakness was all but apparent, admittedly he did not think she would have been able to kill both Davos and Bracca with the latter once being a candidate for becoming a Lord of War. Her fighting prowess was never what was questioned, it had always been her will, to do what was required, to Azariah, Guinevere was a beast without fangs, an animal to be allowed to roam about the palace, but not one to be called upon for battle. He wished Siegfried and specifically Antares would see her for what she truly was; human.

  "My duty to the king is absolute!" Guinevere yelled back. " But I also have honor as a knight. I swore that Grey would be unharmed when he lowered his weapon!"

  Anger began to bubble within her once more, Grey's death would weigh heavy on her. She gave him her word as a knight that he would be safe and Azariah ruined that. His indifference of Grey and those who were merely hiding in the castle disgusted her. She was no stranger to what the Lords of War were and what they represented but this was not what she was taught, to kill so mercilessly. So much blood had been spilt, so much Stygian blood and Azariah did not once hesitate in the slaughter of women and children. She wished her brother could see him and others like him for what they were; monsters.

  "And what? You would bring them back to the castle for what purpose?" Azariah looked at her with such intensity, Guinevere felt he might strike her. "Five years we have left you and your kind to rule Iliad and look at where we are, betrayal within our borders and our enemies mock us. Do you have any idea what is truly happening, what is coming? This was your opportunity to prove that you could be trusted, that you understood. And what did you do? Offer forgiveness to those who would kill us all."

  Ursula laid a hand on Guinevere's shoulder and shook her head. Guinevere unclenched her fists, there was no longer any point to this conversation. Both sides would not see eye to eye on the matter, the ground was already soaked with blood. All that was left was to ask the burning question that lay stuck in her throat.

  "Why are you here?" she asked through gritted teeth.

  Azariah looked upon the floor as a pool of blood reached his footwear.

  "Antares rightly had concerns about you completing the mission. Lord Siegfried arrived at the castle before me, they spoke and as I was making my way to the castle, lord Siegfried sent me a message asking if I would keep an eye on things." His demeanor had changed now to focus on his slightly blood soaked shoes. He gingerly began walking away. "I have done my duty and will return now, finish yours and send the Butterfly to your king."

  She watched as one moment Azariah was there and the next moment he was gone. Such speed even faster than she could react. Ursula put her arms over her and carried her back towards her army, she turned once more to look at Grey who was cut in half and his father frozen solid as cracks began to form across his body. She looked back at the creator that was once a beautiful castle, then looked at the land littered in bodies and blood and thought to herself if this was the future her brother envisioned; kin killing kin. But then she looked at Ursula and then Melina and was glad they were safe. Her body felt heavy, the day's battles finally taking a toll on her. She did not know what to make of any of this and still Azariah's words rang true in her head, I have done my duty, now finish yours. She raised up her hand gently and stretched out a finger, from thin air a blue moon butterfly gently landed on her finger. It flapped its wings softly as though not to injure the tired princess and she smiled softly. She brought it closer to her mouth and spoke into it.