Felix was at the gate, more awake and alert than the last time. Unlike the previous evening, the gate was crowded with people.

               The watchman stood there in a stoic stance, ignoring the excited children who tugged at his pants before they were chased away by their parents.

               Felix’s gaze shifted the moment Nick appeared, probably due to his signature black hair. The watchman waved a hand.

               Nick waved back and strode up to him.

               “You look well-rested,” said Nick.

               “Always chipper during Ascension Day!”

               Nick got a whiff of something sour and stale.

               “Are you smoking?”

               “Not so loud!” said Felix. “Okay, I am. So, what though? It helps me stay awake.”

               Felix pointed at the bundle slung over Nick’s back.

               “Is that for Miri and Ren?”

               “Yep,” said Nick. “Don’t tell them if you see them though. It is supposed to be surprise”

               “You got it,” said Felix, clicking his tongue to emphasize the promise. “By the way… Anything with Lara?”

               “Lara has a favorable impression of you. Although I don’t know how long that will last if you keep smoking.”

               “Aw. That herb is the only thing that keeps me awake!”

               “She can’t linger though. She will probably head south soon. Probably to help the Imperators.”

               “What! I better sign up for that mercenary outfit. I’ll probably tell Volkar to go stuff it once I get accepted.”

               Nick laughs.

               “I’ll catch you later Felix.”

               Felix clicked his hand. “And I’ll be seeing you Nick.”

               Nick stepped into the first alleyway he found after passing the gate, preferring to avoid the crowds. The town alleys were a maze of gaps between buildings, and if one could navigate it, they could appear in any part of town faster than the main routes. Especially during times of high traffic.

               He sped along a corner when he heard the rustle of boots and trousers behind him.

               “Well, well, if it isn’t ol-Wendier.”

               Nick narrowed his eyes, turning around. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who could navigate them, and he didn’t think he’d run into these three today.

               “Hello Belric,” he said. “Evris. Soran.

               The three Innatum look him down, dressed in the white uniforms of the provincial guard. Their size and haircuts were identical and from a distance you could only tell them apart by their green, yellow, and blue hair.

               As children they were his chief childhood tormentors, whose antics only got worse after Valdric passed.

               “You look awfully well-equipped for a nobody,” said Belric.

               “They are gifts, bought fair and square.”

               “Bet you stole those,” said Evris. “I think we should have a proper look.”

               “Not a chance.”

               “Are you resisting a provincial guardsman?” said Soran.

               He wanted to laugh in their face. Only the worst students in the academies went into the provincial guards, and he was fairly certain these three barely passed their exams.

               Nick was confident he could take the three of them on even with no affinity. They’d go for physical attacks, aethereal attacks would draw too much attention. Once the gap was closed, he could easily go for their vital spots. Below the neck. Along the thigh. Above the armpit. Areas where physical strengthening could only go so far. There was a manhole where he could hide the bodies until-

               He bit his lip, stopping that train of thought. He did not kill, not unless absolutely necessary.  

               “That’ll be enough of that.”

               A Nephilim swooped into the alleyway between the two groups. His red hair flowed down to his neck, covering up a scar marring the edge of his eyes. Nick was aware of this because he was the one who delivered it.

               “Sir!” Belric stood to attention, as did the other two.

               “Invoking trouble on this day?” said the Nephilim whose name was Gideon. “I should have the lot of you flogged.”

               “No sir!” said Evris. “Only looking for suspicious characters sir!”

               “Nice try,” said Gideon. “But that is what the town-watch is for. Get out of here.”

               The three goons bolted away.

                Nick eased his shoulders, removing his hand from his weapon. Gideon turned around with a smile.

               “You alright there Nick?” said Gideon.

               “I am, thanks for the help.”

               “No worries.” Gideon dipped his head in a bow.

               “Of course.” Nick shrugged his head where the goons were. “Those three report to you?”

               Gideon smirked. “They do. The look on their faces when they saw their new commander was priceless.”

               The two of them laughed. Gideon was right alongside Nick at the butt end of the three goon’s antics. Having his childhood bullies now working under him must have been seen as an act of justice by the hand of fate.

               Nick and Gideon were close friends, up until their fight.

               An awkward silence fell. They hadn’t talked to each since that fateful day. A childish scuffle over some shell they found at the beach. Gideon threw the first punch, which awakened Nick’s madness for the first time. An act which had near-fatal consequences.

               Things were never the same between the two since then.

               “Look Gideon…”

               “I do wish to talk further but I must take my leave.” Gideon held his hand up. “For now, I want to say what happened in the past is in the past. Farewell.”

               “Oh, got it. Bye then.”

               Gideon flew out of the alleyway. Nick wasn’t sure if past bygones were bygones. This very well was a relationship he would never be able to mend.

               He left the thoughts and trudged onward.

               As he crossed the corner to enter the main road, he heard a familiar old voice.

               “-and thus it was, the Fallen cursed the Capital, unleashing the aethereral hordes who splintered humanity and drove us from the old continent.”

               Across the street a bearded old man, his hair grayer than brown and dressed in plain beige clothes, sat atop the steps of his house. He held up a brass replica of the Old Capital of the First Civilization, surrounded by the attentive eyes of a crowd of children.

               “Mr. Dreiden,” said a child. “Why do you have to tell us a sad story?”

               “Yea!” said another child. The rest nodded their heads in agreement.

               “I wanted to hear something fun. Like how the Divines brought us from the stars!”

               “It is important for you young-ins to know the truth about our world. Both the happy and sad,” said Cedric, who looked up to Nick. “Now, that is enough storytelling for the day.”

               The children stood up and scampered past Nick, searching for their next source of entertainment. They ran to a green and blue-haired pair of men at a stall, who were creating bubbly animals shaped out of water and air aether.

               “Nick! Good to see you my boy!” Cedric waved Nick over with a toothy smile. His eyes peered at the weapons strung on his back. “Is that for Ren and Miri?”

               “Doing fine as always Cedric.” Nick smiled back at the odd man who was a good friend to his late father. He tapped the sling. “And they are.”

               Cedric stroked his beard.

               “Mind if I take a look?”

               “Of course!” said Nick, trying to hide the pride in his voice.

               He unslung the two weapons and lay them in front of Cedric. The old man carefully unwrapped part of the bindings, running a finger along the material.

               “Quality from the touch of it.” He took a look at the gleam of the spear’s edge. “Silverite?”

               Nick nodded.

               “Hah! Better, than what I got for my son.” He wrapped up the binds and returned the weapons.

               “I’m sure he still cherished your gift,” said Nick. He never met Adrian but from what he heard; Cedric’s son was just like his father.

               Cedric wheezed, looking away and coughing into his shirt.

               “Ugh.” Cedric pounded his chest. “Wife told me to spend the money on medicine or a healer. Said the boy could always use whatever they issued from the armory. But what sort of father would I be then eh?”

               “Still a father,” said Nick. Cedric’s wife and his son were both still in the military. Both from what he knew were doing perfectly fine. He wondered if they would be heading south with Lara.

               “Hah,” said Cedric. “You sound more like Valdric every day.”

               “Is your illness getting any better?”

               “It is hardly an illness.” Cedric stopped coughing but his breath still wheezed. “It is just old age, that and too many poor choices when I was younger. Stay away from drink and herb, unless you want to wind up like me.”

               “I guess it is good I haven’t started.”

               Cedric nodded. “Tell me my boy, is your illness getting any better?”

               Cedric was the only person who was aware of Nick’s ailing madness. Nick had hoped the old man knew something from the stories which would reveal a cure, of which there was none.

               “Better.” Nick looked away for a moment. “But still there.”

               “Shame… Anyways, I better get some rest. Give my congratulations to Miri and Ren.” Cedric stepped up, opening the door to catch an afternoon nap.

               “Take care Cedric,” said Nick.

               “You as well Nicholas.”

               As the door closed, he couldn’t help but see Cedric’s as an older mirror of himself. A path he had chosen to spurn. Cedric was an oddball, but for all he knew he lived a full and pleasant life. Four years spent in service after he wed his Nephilim wife. The rest of his life partaking in odd hobbies and fishing.

               An easy path. One which wasn’t too late to turn away from.

               Nick departed to his home, which was but a few houses away. He creaked the door open.  

               “It’s Nick,” he said. “Is anyone home?”

               Someone gasped, and immediately resumed sniffling.

               “Hello?” Nick peeked into the dining room, the sniffling resumed and he could hear it coming from the kitchen.

               Nick stepped inside and saw Vlara crouched in the corner. She was dressed in her ascension robes, a cream-colored gown woven from silk. Her green hair was curled up, revealing a puffy face with tears streaming down her eyes.

               “Vlara?” said Nick. “Why are you hiding here? Shouldn’t you be out with the others?

               She didn’t respond, looking down on the floor.

               “Hey…” Nick walked up to her. “Is everything alright?”

               “I-Everything is okay.”

               “Doesn’t sound like it.” Nick crouched down to her level. “We’ve known each other for a while. Come on, what’s on your mind? Today should be a day of joy, not of sorrow.”

               “I-I don’t know… I just-. I don’t feel like I deserve to go.”

               “What do you mean?”

               “I… I see everyone else do such amazing things. Lara is a Seraph-Knight. Miri and Ren are the best at what they do. I can barely mumble out a spell, let alone channel aether.”

               Nick nodded, well understanding what she was going through. It was rough growing up in a household full of prodigies. Her mother didn’t help much either, focusing her attention on Lara and even Miri than her youngest daughter.

               “You shouldn’t compare yourself to those three, let alone anyone else Vlara. The only thing that matters is your own improvement.”

               “But what if I never do?”

               “Everyone gets better over time Vlara. It is all just a matter of effort. All you need is a bit of confidence in yourself.”

               “I don’t feel very confident.”

               “Thankfully, that can easily be remedied.”

               “Huh?”

               “Here I’ll explain.” Nick thought back to those early years learning at the Earl’s manor. “You know how the nobles always walk around poised and dignified? With confidence?”

               Vlara nodded.

               “Well, people think they do it because they are confident. It is actually the opposite. The way they stand, the way they hold themselves up, is what gives them confidence. Body-posture and all that. It is why one of the first things they teach you in the academy is to stand straight with your chin up. The nobles learn the same thing from an early age.”

               “Really?”

               “M-hm.” Nick cracked a grin. “Let’s try it now. First straighten your back.”

               She did.

               “Chin up.”

               She did.

               “Feel better?”

               “I think so- hic*”

               Nick couldn’t help but laugh at the hiccup, it was all too adorable coming from her.

               Vlara on the other hand looked down with an embarrassed pout on her face.

               “Listen Vlara, you’ll do fine. Heavens forbid, but Miri and Ren didn’t start off all too confident either. On second thought, maybe not Ren… I’d say he kind of has the opposite problem.”

               Vlara giggled. “I think I know what you are talking about.”

               Nick rolled his eyes. “It seems like everyone is aware except him. Also, you should keep your hair up like that. You look a lot prettier that way.”

               Vlara said nothing, but her cheeks turned a crimson red. “T-Thank you. I should get going then.”

               “M-hm, remember. Remember what I told you. Be confident when you are at the ceremony.”

               Vlara left, and Nick stashed the weapons away to his room, before departing in her wake.

***

               All the denizens of the town surrounded the hexagon dais at the center of the training field. The same shape as the Ancient Capital of the Old Continent lost when the Fallen let loose their calamity upon the world. At the center of the hexagon was an altar draped in green cloth.

               Nick watched with the rest of the spectators as five priests, sporting robes colored after a prime element, walked to a corner of the hexagon. Each bore the respective gemstones of their element cupped around their hands.

               The corners also reflected the five entrances to the old city, named after the elements of each priest. Nick felt his eyes drift to the red priest, the gate Valdric and the Companions entered through twenty years past. 

               Behind them a priest, dressed in white robes, walked to the center of the dais.

               The priest in white swept the cloth away, revealing a circular fountain reveling with glittering mana in liquid form. At the middle of the fountain was a raised stand, upon which he placed a piece of pale quartz.

               At that moment the other priests raised their gemstones. Silence was shattered by the winding sound of aether being called forth.

               A fountain of fire rose to raise ruby. Lightning crackled up to raise topaz. Gusts of wind spiraled to raise emerald. Earth shot forth to raise agate. Colored lines, reflecting each gemstone, shot toward the quartz at the center, causing it to glow a pale white.

               The set darkened as a few Nephilim in the rear formed clouds to obscure the sun.

               The priests took a step back, facing the crowd and standing resolute. It was then the dancers moved onto the dais, to reenact the myths of the old. A reminder to the people of who the traditions and purpose they came from.

               Eight figures, tall and cowled in cloaks patterned after the night sky, strode to the center. They represented the Eight Divines, who guided the first souls of humanity to the world from the stars above. Their purpose was to create a paradise upon this unsoiled world. Here they built the First Civilization along with the Great Capital at the center of the old continent. Here they also taught humanity to harness the power of the elements through the gemstones.

               Dozens of smaller figures swept onto the altar, representing the great few who were chosen to harness the elements into their very souls. The first of the Innatum.

               The congregation danced and weaved, reflecting the flourishing and paradise of the ancient times. A time when all was well and all lived in peace.

               Then some of the Innatum however, strode away. The dancers bent and shifted as they indulged in their basest impulses. They grew hunched to reflect their greed. They crawled, reflecting envy. They snapped at the others, demanding worship at the expense of prosperity.

               And so, they became the first of the Fallen, who revolted against their kin and the Eight Divines, seeking control and power over all else.

               The dancers whirled around each other, in a cataclysmic portrayal of the First War. Humanity splintered as each took sides in the conflict, the righteous rising for the Divines while the impulsive fell to the Fallen.

               As victory loomed over the forces of good, catastrophe struck. The Divines whisked to the center of the fountain, sealed away within the Great Capital as the remaining Fallen unleashed their curse. The natural aetheral currents of the world were twisted, causing abominations, the first monsters, to rise from the capital and spread outward, forever splinting a unified humanity and driving the remains to the far corners of the world. The dancers departed, leaving an empty altar, reflecting the great dark age.

               Hope however was not yet lost. At the edge six Nephilim, men and women blessed with wings from their mastery of the air and sky, flew forth. They represented the six Paragons who unified the disparate nations of the West, starting an offensive to drive back the wretched hordes. They fought all the way to the heart of the old continent, carving out Reclamation City and beginning the war to reclaim the Ancient Capital and herald the return of the Divines.

               It was a fight that would extend past their natural lives. The Paragons and their fellow Nephilim were graced with the land which would become Vislanda, founding Seraphil upon one of the last mana founts in the West. Their descendants formed the Six Houses of the Ruling Council.

               They forged the hierarchy, the great order by which all nations were structured. Nephilim and Innatum served as the rulers and guides of common humanity. They would continue the great crusade while common humanity provided them with the support they needed to continue the war.  

               Everyone applauded. All except Nick.

               To him the show was a farce.

               The Innatum and Nephilim rulers of the countries, all held their place on the premise they would continue to fight the Reclamation War. To return prosperity to all of humanity. An obligation they now paid but lip-service.

               When Nick read the works of Charles Diderot, everything clicked into place like pieces in a puzzle. The Nephilim and Innatum hadn’t reclaimed the old continent, not because of lack of ability but because they didn’t want to in the first place. They chose to be content with how things were, living lives of luxury all while common men and women lived in drudgery.

               Vislanda thrived. The Innatum rulers of the Imperium, the Voratian Isles, the dune kingdoms to the south, all thrived. All at the impoverished backs of millions. The hierarchy which once served to unite humanity’s efforts, now served only those at its pinnacle.

               Nick felt this was why Valdric’s attempt went awry. Nick was under no belief that while what Valdric did was extraordinary, it could easily have been done centuries past. However, there was no reason to alter the status quo.

               It was why Valdric couldn’t be allowed to continue. It was why Bracers, which evened the playing field for the rest of humanity, were shunned. The powerful desired no change in a world stacked in their favor.  

               He didn’t hate anyone here, for they were just as ignorant. However, he couldn’t hold them completely blameless, off a world where they thrived at the expense of others.

               He saw the Adrestan revolution as a reaction to this injustice. However, even then people would just turn upon each other, fighting for the scraps that remained.

               The only way to bring justice was to finish Valdric’s quest, the one that began with the Paragons of old. To return prosperity upon the world. Nick would succeed, barring death or madness.

               Now however, was not the time for bad thoughts.

               As the dancers departed the altar, the center priest gestured to the line of children, waiting along the walls. The first of them stepped up to the platform.

               It was the boy with red hair, who fought Ren in the pits. The priest filled a cup from the fountain, and offered it to him.

               The boy drank, flinching as power coursed through his body. When he regained his composure, he placed a hand on the quartz, which vibrated once.

               The ruby flared bright, as expected. The boy kept his hands on the quartz, his eyes on the emerald, expectantly waiting for another vibration.

               However, none came.

               Disappointment colored his face as the priest gestured for him to step of the dais. The red priest met him, marking his name as a future inductee to the Western Innatum Academy, where he would be trained to harness fire. When it was finished, the boy joined his waiting parents at the edge of the crowd.

               Vlara appeared next, chin held up and back straight. She was markedly different from her usual meek self. Conviction and resolve on her face. Nick nodded with approval.

               She drank from the offered cup, and placed her hand on the quartz. A vibration stirred followed by the flash of the emerald.

               Vlara looked at it with a smile, and stepped off the dais. The green priest marked her name, to attend the Main Academy at Seraphil, and to be inducted as her sister to the ranks of the future Nephilim. She looked around the crowd and after finding her mother’s beaming face, joined her.

               Children after children made their way through the dais, being assorted in accordance with their ability. A few lucky had a second vibration, and fewer still for air.

               Nick never went through one. He preferred to spare himself from the embarrassment. 

               Finally, he saw Miri step up to the dais. She walked with poise and grace, her face neutral, betraying no emotion. However, Nick could tell by her balled up hands that she was anxious.

               She drank from the cup and placed a hand on the quartz. It vibrated once, followed by the flash of topaz.

               Followed by a second vibration, this time from the emerald.

               Miri’s face betrayed shock, and then, for a moment, Nick thought he saw joy.

               Miri stepped down, had her names marked down to enter the Main Academy, and moved to join Vlara and Cianna.

               Ren stepped up with a bored look on his face. He drank and brushed his hand across the quartz. Two vibrations followed, just like his sister.

               After the priest marked his name, he went on to join his sister and Vlara. A surprising result, if one did not know who their mother was.

               He remembered early in his childhood, when Valdric took him to travel to the spire of Seraphil. He remembered well when they returned to Sevola, with Miri and Ren wrapped in cloth. They never returned to Seraphil.

               Nick only realized the whole story, once he read Valdric’s journal. A good quarter of it was filled with love notes, as well as a few cheesy attempts at poetry. All addressed to a particular Nephilim among the Companions.

               Elena Uri, now the Head of the House of Uri, and one of the most powerful women in the country.

               He didn’t know why Elena gave up her children. Valdric’s journal stopped, after he returned to Vislanda. Maybe there was a political reason. Maybe the two fell out. The two never wed, although their passionate throes were well-documented. Bits of Valdric’s journal Nick skimmed over.

               She would have no choice but to acknowledge her children now. Honor among the Nephilim dictated they take care of their own. Especially family.

               He very well remembered what Valdric’s last request.

               “Take care of them…”

               With their acceptance into the Main Academy and their ascension to the upper ranks of society, Nick deemed the obligation to be met.

               He joined in everyone in applauding the newly ascended.

               Today, they would go their own way, while Nick would go on his.

***

               Nick sat on his trunk at an intersection at the roads, staring at the gate entrance. He was the only person there, surrounded by marble houses. Everyone else was participating in a parade closer to the docks.

               There was puddle across the street, probably left behind by one of the water acrobats. He tossed a pebble at it.

               There was a boom of thunder and a blur which swept across the street, grabbing the pebble mid-air.

               “Nice catch,” said Nick. “You are going to wreck the road if you keep doing that though.”

               “Eh it’ll be fine.” Ren tossed the pebble back at Nick. “Vlara told me you wanted to see me?”

               “M-hm, both you and Miri.” Nick unslung the bundle on his back. “Where is she?”

               “Not sure, though probably hanging out with all the others. Even more guys are nipping away at her feet now that she is a Nephilim.”

               “You’re one too as well now.” The corner of Nick’s mouth crept up into a sly smirk. “Aren’t you happy with all that female attention? I saw what you’ve been reading.”

               “Hey! Have you been looking through my things?”

               “You left the books half opened on your drawer. If didn’t have to look very hard.”

               “Eh, fair enough. What did you want to talk about?”

               “Hm… well first, come over here.”

               Ren quirked his eyebrow and walked over. When he got in range, Nick grabbed him around the neck and nudged his brother’s scalp with a fist.

               “Congratulations you oaf.”

               “Hey!” Ren broke out of Nick’s grip, getting his hair back in order. Nick laughed, although he was internally winced at the aching from his arm. Ren was a lot stronger than he thought.

               “Serious though. You’re off to being a Nephilim now. One step closer to being a hero like in the books.”

               “Yea... I guess.”

               Ren’s words however didn’t match the joy and excitement hidden under his voice.

               “Anyhow, a hero always needs to be well-equipped, so I got you a little something.”

               Nick unwrapped the cloth from Ren’s gift, revealing the silverite blade and sheath.

               “Oh… wow.” Ren took the weapon, and inched it out of its sheath, revealing the glittering blade inside.

               “Silverite,” said Nick. “Just like what Lara’s armor was made of. Probably will beat whatever they give to start you off at the Academy.”

               Ren was entranced by the sword, his hands shifting it from side to side.

               “Also.” Nick brought out the other blade and a book. “These things belong to you and Miri.”

               Ren sheathed the silverite sword, placing it gently on the ground before reaching to grab Valdric’s. The hilt of Valdric’s old blade was wrapped up, but the moment Ren touched it, the diamond at the center gleamed.

               “Dad’s old blade,” said Nick.

               “Really?” said Ren as he readied to pull it from the sheath.

               “Careful!”

               Ren stopped.

               “Uh… “ Nick scratched the side of his cheek with a finger. “Feel free to unsheathe it later. Just don’t do it near me.”

               “Oh. Okay then.”

               Nick had done some questionable things with the sword in the past, things similar to when he forced its power during the battle with the harpies. Said things also seemed to draw a lot of pain from it. He didn’t know if sentient weapons held grudges, but he preferred not to find out by being on the receiving end of one.

               “And what is that old book?” said Ren.

               “Valdric’s old journal,” said Nick. “I found it while looking through his old belongings. Dad was pretty quiet about his past, but I think it is about time you two found out.”

               Ren took the book in one hand and looked back at Nick.

               “Have you read it?” he said.

               “I did,” said Nick. “Give it to Miri when you are done, or read it together.”

               Ren nodded, and looked at the trunk Nick was sitting on.

               “Are you leaving?”

               “For a time.”

               “Why?”

               “To see the world, I guess.” Nick smiled.

               “You aren’t coming, back are you?”

                Nick could have easily just lied and said no, and say he would come back. He looked away while scratching the back of his head.

               “Probably not. But I might visit every now and then.”

               “Thought so,” said Ren. “Miri and I both thought you’d leave after we ascended.”

               “Really?”

               “We… uh, we read through the books you were into. It was always about other places, beyond Vislanda. Like you were trying to learn how to make a living outside of here. That and you never seemed happy here ever since Dad passed.”

               Nick coughed; he didn’t think they were aware. Ren began toeing the street.

               “I just wanted to say,” said Ren. “We joke around a lot but, I appreciate everything you did. For me and Miri.”

               Nick scoffed.

               “Heavens don’t get me all teary eyed now,” said Nick. “Look Ren, it isn’t like I’ll disappear forever. I’ll come back one day. Got it?”

               Ren looked back at him with a smile.

               “I’ll take that as a promise.”

               “Damn straight.”

               The two of them hugged, awkwardly and not too long. It was unseemly for men to show too much affection.

               “Now.” Nick slung his trunk over his back. “All we need to do is wait on Miri.”

               “What is that?” Ren pointed in the distance to the horizon.

               Nick turned in the direction of Ren’s finger and saw seven shadows, larger than any bird, veering towards them from the ocean.

               “Are those... airships?” Ren looked at the approaching vessels with wonder.

               Nick frowned. The six vessels at the sides were your run-of-the-mill sloops, twin-deckers with four air-engines on each corner. Anything from merchant travel to pleasure ships.

               It was the larger one in the middle which drew his attention. At first, he thought it was a three-decker transport but it was long, far longer than what Nick remembered seeing at Imperial ports. He remembered seeing it before though in an old book he read.

               “They are a lot bigger than I imagined,” said Ren. “I thought they would be like a flying version of Cedric’s dinky boats.”

               Its hull was sloped like a belly, swooping up to the bow where there lay a figurine. Shaped like a dragon.

               Nick eyes widened as he remembered the book. Set in a time before the Northlander Jarls and the Emperor swore a truce. This was like a modernized version of those ancient raiding vessels.

               The Pegasus Knights were at the Earl’s estate. Sevola’s garrison was designed for minor peacekeeping duties, not to thwart foreign attackers.

               “Ren.” Nick grabbed his brother’s arm. “Find Miri and get out of here.”

               “But…”

               “No buts this time.” Nick pulled his brother, stepping towards the gate. “Find Miri and get to the Earl’s estate. Get to Lara and let the Pegasus Knights know.”

               The cheering and jubilance from the parade simmered to a silence, as everyone became aware of the encroaching strangers.

               Three Nephilim flew up to the vessels, who by now had already crossed the shoreline. Their frames cast dark shadows upon the town.

               The bad feeling in Nick’s mind was confirmed when he heard the numerous snaps of aether-muskets go off.

               Fire lanced towards the three Nephilim, two dodged while the other was peppered with a flurry of explosions. As the smoke cleared, the winged man fell to the ground.

               Silence turned to screams.

               One Nephilim swooped over to catch her fallen brethren, right as another volley of fire lanced from one of the sloops. Nick didn’t think aether-muskets could load that quickly, unless they had several ranks of firers. Either way, Sevola was in trouble.

               A third Nephilim wisped in the way of the attacks, spreading his hands to form a wall of water. Firebolts sizzled against the shield as the air was filled with the crackle of another volley. Countless lightning bolts cut through the shield, shocking the winged man.

               The last Nephilim caught his falling comrade with his other arm. Nick made out the red flash of Gideon’s hair, as he dove away to safety.

               Nick and Ren started running.

               As the gate entrance drew near, the two looked back, right in time to see the center vessel, a Northlander Longwarder, turn its broadside toward them. Square portholes opening to reveal black cannons.

               Pointed right at Nick and his brother.

               Nick pushed his brother past the gate entrance, right as fireballs belched streaming towards them.