The gates were open before they turned to Jao’s little fiefdom. Men of indeterminate numbers lurked in dark alleyways and stood atop the surrounding buildings, flatbows aimed.

Verena’s eyes flickered as Thael carried her, hooded head cradled by his shoulder. Her breathing had grown shallow, her makeshift grey bandage now darkened.

“Quickly.” Shen waved for Thael to follow his brisk stride.

“The… scryers,” Verena muttered.

“Krystos can wait,” Thael said. “Save your breath.”

Verena thumped a weakened fist against his chest. “Always were a stubborn bastard. Contact… Krystos.”

Shen hurried them through to a chamber. Scented candles hung upon the walls, weeping wax down their black iron holders. A woman in a black silk night dress, beautiful as she was pale, greeted them with a slight bow, two attendants of matching beauty garbed in white at each side.

“We seek Matron Wu,” Shen said. “We need a healer.”

“The matron is occupied at this hour, but surely I may bring another to—”

“Bring my mother, we do not need her apprentices,” Shen interrupted. “No doubt she is confined to my father’s quarters. Fetch her at once. If my father objects, tell him his son is wounded.”

The woman in black whispered to a woman in white, who disappeared down the hall.

“Wait here,” Thael told the others. “All of you,” he stared at Shen, who nodded. “And bring back our gear.”

“Please, follow me,” the mistress turned with a sweep of her dark robe. She lead Thael to a room with a large bed similar to the one he and Verena had shared. Thael gently lowered Verena to its soft depths.

The woman in black bowed “Matron Wu will be present shortly.” She closed the door.

“Thael,” Verena whispered.

“Save your breath.”

“Thael you fucking bastard. Listen to me. We both know I can’t carry on with the mission. Perhaps I live. Most likely I’ll die.” She let out a pained sigh. “You’re commander of this cadre now. Seems the prince was in the High Tower after all. You must rescue our boy, Thael.”

Thael’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘our boy,’ Verena?”

“The prince… Arrin. He is your son.”

The door opened, a woman in a gossamer scarlet dress that flowed to her slender ankles entered. Her black hair was tied in a large bun held together by hair pin topped by a ruby. Her face was worn with lines yet her elegance had stood the test of time. She was accompanied by two supple women dressed in white that paled before her grace.

“I see you are not my son,” the woman that could only be Matron Wu looked to Verena and bent down to inspect her bandage. She motioned to one woman for a chair and spoke in terse Haolo, “Bring me a tincture of slackroot and crimflower.”

Matron Wu took the proffered fresh linen bandage from the other woman and set to cutting Verena’s old wrappings.

“Shen said you were a shaman,” Thael said.

“I am,” the matron spoke while she worked. “I have also patched many of Jao’s men. Broken men cannot do broken work, so it goes.”

“You’re not breaking the shaft,” Thael said.

The woman shook her head, continuing to speak in their mother tongue. “You know your flesh work. You also know then that its head is barbed. It is a testament to her will that this woman is still awake. Her gut has been torn apart by the bolt. If she does not die soon from blood loss, she will die from internal bleeding once the bolt is taken out.”

A servant garbed in white approached the matron, presenting a stoppered glass flask filled with red liquid.

“There is nothing I can do,” Matron Wu said, “except ease her pain.”

“Leave the tincture. I’ll give it to her myself.”

The matron raised a tapered brow, nodded, and without another word left, shutting the door behind her.

Thael placed the slender flask on the windowsill and sat upon the chair next to Verena.

“Do you remember the day you left the order?” she said.

“I do.”

“I remember your face. You were stone… but your eyes gave away your pain when I came to see you… It was like all your spirit had gone, you were hollow. I wanted to make you feel again… I wanted to hold you and make you stay.” Verena squeezed her eyes shut. “You left just the same. It wasn’t your fault Hiro died. You can still save your second son—”

“Don’t. Don’t lie on your deathbed to me. I’ll continue the mission, Verena.”

There was a knocking followed by the muffled voice of Shen. “I have your gear.”

Thael opened the door, retrieved his pack, and promptly closed it. He dropped the pack beside the chair and rummaged through until he found his scryer. He flipped the locket open.

The face of Krystos sparked to life in Thael’s palm, his eyes even more pinched and wearied, their color a faded green.

“Thael,” the arch king blinked. “There has been no contact with your cadre since Verena’s report. Did you locate a minister? Do you know where Arrin is?”

“Ambrose was last seen at the Hold’s gardens,” Thael said. “We interrogated Minister Theobald at Jao’s safehouse. The prince could only be in the Ministers' Hold. On our way back to the Midden, Verena was wounded.”

“Fucking evils! How badly?”

“Flatbow bolt. We don’t have the necessary physicians to take it out.”

“There are reports that part of the host camped outside Dres Lanieth is marching back inside the city. Whatever you plan to do, do it before dawn. The army is moving as we speak. I won’t have my son sacrificed for some heathen prophecy.”

“Is he your son, Krystos?” Thael asked softly, glancing at Verena.

The arch king paused for a moment, tired lines etched across his face. “So Verena told you.”

“She did. It doesn’t concern me. Verena has granted me command of the cadre.”

“It does,” Krystos said. “Arrin is your son, Thael.”

Thael grimaced. “Explain.”

“The arch queen... Rhiann... gave birth to Allard, my true heir, this is true. He was a stillborn, and she died with him. I blood bound the physicians to swear them to secrecy. The Empire was still in civil war... an heir was needed to solidify my rule, Thael. Arrin had been born but a day before. Through flesh craft we traced his lineage back to you.”

Thael’s mouth tightened. “Who the boy’s father is doesn’t concern me. I’ll continue the mission, for arch king and Empire.”

“What will you do?”

“Tell your Wraith order to be ready by dawn. Fly in from every angle to the High Tower. That is where the prince is held.”

“Thael, may I speak with Verena alone?” Krystos asked, voice soft.

He placed the scryer into Verena’s open hand and left the room. Shen waited down the hall, hands clasped behind his back.

“My father wishes to speak with you. It is of the utmost urgency,” he said. “Here is Verena’s device. Your comrades have been taken to soothmenders for rest and respite.”

Thael took the locket, placing it within his dark cloak. He followed in Shen’s wake, exiting into the courtyard. Faint screams and ringing steel reached them, the din of distant battle.

“The rebels know Jao had a hand in this?” Thael asked.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Shen said. “But the Unsworn have broken the treaty. We will face them in our streets, where numbers hold little value and blood pools ever quicker. My father has grown fat and slow with his power, but he is powerful nonetheless. The Jinnto of Dres Lanieth stand united with your Empire, Thael Tanaka. We shall see what we have bargained for.”

Jao awaited them behind his throne, standing alone before the blazing fire of the hearth. “It comes to this then,” he said. “An army surrounds us. Death looms over us like the moon, but what will dawn bring? Our salvation, or our ruin? I wish to speak with your arch king, Thael.”

“It will take some time—”

“Now!” Jao roared.

Thael opened the scryer and placed it on the floor. The arch king appeared before them, fresh tears streaming from his bright green eyes before they hardened grey to the sight of Jao.

“My liege,” Jao bowed his head. “The Unsworn attack my home. Haolan blood is being spilled with each word we speak. What will you do with your own blood, before the sun rises?”

“Thael tells me the prince is located in the High Tower. I will send every wrynn and every Wraith of Arcadia to reinforce your position.”

“So the Unspoken shall meet the Unsworn, sacrificing an entire order for one life? You truly must love your son.” Jao’s eyes flicked to Thael. “That does not solve the force which besets my domain. We will be hard pressed to reach the tower. We do not even have the necessary equipment to lay siege to their gates, the ministers have made sure of that.”

“Thael,” the arch king gestured, “step forward. Contact Clan Hross. Whatever magics they can summon to break through the gates, make it so. And Thael, stay with Verena, until the very end. Please.”

“I will.”

Krystos nodded, “Good. May Ral's Gaze judge us worthy.” His image blinked and disappeared. Thael knelt to pick up the scryer.

“So. Even a Mage cannot outlast a Kingmaker,” Jao said.

“Perhaps even you,” Thael spoke, voice soft.

“Oh, if it came to that we would all be dead,” Jao scoffed. “I need no vision to see what the arch king will do should we fail. Should you fail. This city would be toppled and razed, an example to any who would defy the Empire.”

Thael set the scryer back on the floor and opened it once more. High Priest Othmir then stood over the locket, his beard bundled into one hanging knot, auburn as the robes he wore. “I did not think we would meet again, geilgrüb.”

“We need your aid,” Thael stated. “Do you have the means to break through the Ring’s defenses, all the way into the Ministers’ Hold?”

“We do.”

“Do you know of Harken Jao—”

“I am familiar with the Lord of the Midden. Are you there, the Haolan Butcher?”

“Othmir my friend,” Jao stepped forward, spreading his arms out as if to hug the mirage. “How goes your exile?”

“It would be a kazlinath indeed to kill you, Harken Jao.” The dwarf smiled, something between sorrow and regret. “We exiled accept our fate, just as your people now accept theirs. We have heard the roar of battle even past our stone halls, thick as they are. Was it worth, however, all the death, all the sorrow and fear you have bestowed upon your people to unite them?”

“My people do not fear me,” Jao pursed his thick lips. “Devotion is something that can be earned but once. Fear is a fleeting thing, followed by your throat slit while you sleep. It is better to have stood a chance united then fighting one another for scraps in eternal servitude, no? My people recognize this, and give themselves wholly to our cause.”

“Oh? And what cause is this?”

“Your kind has always lived independent from us and our wars. Your home shall always rest in your mountain kingdoms. My people have no such luxury of sanctuary. We sided with the Empire during the Haolan Invasion, and ever since have been treated as the invaders ourselves. In a sense, we are as exiled as you. Banished from our homeland, outsiders to the Empire we fought for. Now we stand on the same side, teetering on the brink of freedom or death, no?”

The dwarf nodded. “We shall be free in a different sense by the dawn.”

“How will you rout the host that surrounds us and break through their defenses?” Thael said.

Othmir smiled. “You shall see soon enough. We will meet you at your grounds by the sun's light.”

The dwarf flickered away.

“We are but instruments of our fates, Thael,” Jao mused. “Though destiny is a false entitlement, we still fight to claim it. Who are we to try and alter the course of the world, or is it simply meant to be?”

“Save your philosophy for the dead, Jao,” Thael turned and walked away. “Go and ask them yourself, if they believe in fate.”

Jao stared into the fire. “Perhaps I will,” he murmured. “Perhaps I will.”

Thael sat next to Verena. Her breathing was shallow now, face pale. Her eyes flitted to Thael.

“Stay with me,” she whispered. “Please.”

“I’m here,” Thael leaned over and pocketed the scryer in her hand. He looked to the windowsill where he had left the potion.

“No,” Verena groaned. “No. I don’t want to die in my sleep.”

Thael paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“A Wraith could never be a parent. Krystos is a good man. The war… changed him,” she took another labored breath. “But he is still… a good man. He has done more than what I ever could.”

The muffled din of battle still pierced the closed window.

“How will you reach the Hold?” Verena asked.

“The dwarves said they have a way. We’ll see if we make it until dawn.”

“Dawn,” Verena gasped. “I’d like to see the next day just to find out if the prophecy is true. Black sun. Once every century. Day of reckoning.” Her head turned to him. “Save Arrin, Thael. Save our son.”

Thael nodded.

Verena sighed. “Sing me a song, you bastard. Something I’ve never heard.”

Thael sat still in silence before opening his mouth to sing.

“The shadows call

The stars glitter bright

Bound to the edge of night unfurled”

Still men yelled, wailed, and died in the distance. Still Thael continued,

“The moon will fall

Sorrow leave your sight

Dream deep into another world

The path remains dark

Free yourself into night

Fear not, for I will not be far

The sun will rise, the dawn will come

Never fear, nor despair

For the shadows shall fade

For the light will come...”