Chapter 6: Battle of Thornridge - Part One

A large and wide shore, the sand glowing yellow, bearing the sun's reflection, littered with many crabs. The ocean seems to be calm at this moment, but not the shore itself, as thousands of feet are heard marching across it, followed by a large trail of mist dimming their path.

The Dark Army is trekking across the shore at this very moment, thousands of dark monsters, from goblins to orcs to gargoyles to trolls, and in front of the army, the Dark Lord himself walks ahead, leading the way.

They approach a simple village by the shore. They stop to observe, waiting for a moment. Cries are suddenly heard from the distance, and they notice about a hundred men running from the village, carrying spears and swords and bows, screaming at them.

The Dark Lord stands still, almost laughing at their effort. He turns to face his army, whispering something among them. After a short while, a whistle could be heard from within the army, and a creature suddenly starts to rise from the back - a Thunder Wyvern!

Wyverns are like the bootleg versions of dragons, yeah, they're slightly less cool, but they are still powerful. Hard scales, rough claws and rougher jaws, and very long tails. Thunder wyverns in particular are incredibly fast, incredibly loud, and as much as four to five meters in length.

The wyvern rises into the sky, moving towards the villagers. They continue to scream as they approach the dark army, men and women and young boys, all armed and trying to make as much an effort as their poor figures could. The wyvern's shadow starts to overcome the villagers. They stop to gaze upon its figure in fear and powerlessness. The wyvern arches its back and starts to gather power from the sky, as its mouth starts to glow in light blue, rising in intensity by the second. The villagers are terrified, trembling in their places, but within just another few seconds, the wyvern releases its shockwave, a large bolt of lightning that effortlessly pulverizes even the bones of the villagers. They run for their lives, their cries of battle now becoming cries of fear. The wyvern moves around as the bolt of lightning continues to trickle across the sand, killing everything that moves, until there is nothing left but the ashes of the now nonexistent inhabitants of this village.

The Dark Lord grins widely. He has been waiting for this type of action for a very long time.

In other whereabouts, the majestic Alijonian flag flails in the wind, of emerald-green color with a drawing of a hawk with its wings proudly raised wide, atop a very large watchtower in the middle of a humble town right next to the sea. The town itself is settled on jungle grass but is directly bordering the coast. The dark army could be seen trekking across the coast in the distance, as they had been earlier, moving closer. Two men stand atop the watchtower, in full knight armor, carrying two pairs of binoculars and observing the army that approaches their very location.

This feels like a great time to remind you that Alijonians speak in a close to American accent, in case you're not keeping up or have forgot, I won't blame you.

"Looks like... Uh..." says the first knight, observing. "Yeah, that's them, the Dark Lord's army."

"Warn the others, I'll keep watch." says the second knight.

"Why me? Why don't you-"

"Come on, you're wasting time! If you can see them coming it means we're already dead! Move!" shouts the second knight.

The first knight quickly drops his binoculars and bolts down the tower. The second knight continues to watch. He opens his mouth.

"Oh my god, those damn elves." he says, licking his lips, looking away for a second to see if anyone is watching before getting back to it. "Mhm, oh yeah, they're so hot."

--

"The Dark Lord is afoot! The Dark Lord is afoot!" cries the knight, as he runs around the town, warning everyone. "Spread the news, the Dark Lord is afoot!"

Everyone garners their tools and weapons, initiating their preparations, from archers and healers to blacksmiths and bakers. A mysterious man starts to walk through the town, heading towards the army, his large, heavy and elegant wavy flame-like sword sheathed by his side, which looks to be coated in rubies and emeralds, it seems to very subtly drip a strange black liquid into the ground as he walks.

The Dark Lord stops almost quarter a mile away from the town, in his same low-headed mad manner. The thousands of foul beings stop behind him, waiting.

He turns back, mouthing something among his army as he did before. He stops talking once he hears a pair of footsteps approaching him, quietly rustling over the grass as he approaches, stopping exactly one foot away from the line that splits the jungle grass from the coastal sand. The Dark Lord turns, smirking as he watches the man right in front of him standing still, not even breaking a sweat.

"I see we have a valiant hero."

The man looks to be in his late twenties, tall with long brown hair, dressed in golden armor coated with jewels, with a fair, almost prince-like face, if it weren't for the small burn mark on his right cheek. The man unsheathes his sword, and as the panic and the noise rings in the town behind him, he starts speaking.

"I am Prince Tyler Hawk, first of my name, third son of King Damien Hawk, and Mayor of Thornridge Town." he says, looking him in the eyes, raising his sword. "I have heard of you, ass-face, but I trust that this will be the last day anyone will hear anything about you."

The Dark Lord laughs, it is clear that he is amused by this young man who thinks so highly of himself. He smirks, not even looking back as a loud screech shoots from within the army. The thunder wyvern rises, as it did earlier, and starts to soar the skies, orbiting the town for a moment, preparing to strike.

The prince looks at the wyvern for a second. He laughs a very short laugh, before looking back at him.

"Just one?" he says.

The wyvern stops in the middle of the sky, vigorously flapping its wings before it arches its back and starts to gather power from the sky. The power starts to course through it, as a ball of lightning starts to form over its mouth.

The prince raises his sword once more, this time giving a loud chant, almost an energetic cry, as a strange black mask is lowered onto his face and the sword starts engulfing itself in flames. The dark army watches this display, the sword almost growing three times in size with the fire and the smoke emitting from it. The prince starts to crouch on the floor. The pebbles on the floor near him start to shake slightly, before he blasts upwards and starts flying towards the wyvern.

"Who is this man?!" cries one of the goblins in the dark army.

"It's Tyler Hawk, he is one of the four Black-Masks!" cries another.

The Dark Lord watches the prince take to the sky, with a subtle smile on his face, he is still entertained, even more so now.

The wyvern continues to charge its lightning, but stops to a halt as it notices the prince rapidly approaching it. Just as it was about to bring its lightning down, the prince raises his flaming sword and swings it at the wyvern, immediately and mercilessly cutting its left wing off. The wyvern screeches in pain, as the ball of lightning explodes in its face and it is sent shooting back down.

The prince drops on the grass once more, exactly where he left, staring into the Dark Lord's eyes, as the thunder wyvern plummets down in the background, giving off a deafening cry as it drops into the water and creates a giant splash.

An arrow impales the chest of one of the goblins, the army becomes more attentive of the archers atop the houses and shops, vigorously firing at them. They start to pull out their own bows and weapons as they run into the battlefield. The Dark Lord calmly observes the battle commence around himself. The prince doesn't take his eyes off him.

"Look at me." says the prince, as the Dark Lord starts to fixate on him. "Let the battle rage on behind us, but right here, it's just you and me."

They both give each other a taunting and confident smile, before they dash and their swords collide. They start to very skillfully slash and parry at each other, up and down, left and right, in a hypnotizing succession.

They start to step into the grassy territory, and quickly the Dark Lord raises his hand as a field of vines starts to grow from beneath the ground next to Tyler. He spins with his flaming sword, scorching the grass and the vines instantly, before he dashes once more and powerfully smites the Dark Lord's sword with his own. The Dark Lord is even pushed back a few inches from the impact, but he never loses his cool.

He retaliates and continues to parry the prince's blows, starting to push back once again. The prince moves back as he parries his blows. The Dark Lord attempts to slash at him, but the prince performs a quick backflip and lands on his feet, instantly going for a stab, which the Dark Lord parries adeptly as he takes a step sideways.

The dark army is clashing with the swordmen of the town. They seem to be evenly matched, the men fighting the goblins and orcs, but a significant change is felt when the trolls start stepping in. One of the swordman stabs a troll through the chest. The troll does not even flinch. The man struggles to pull his sword out of his chest, before the troll holds him and roughly thrusts his head into the sword's handle stuck in his chest. The swordmen start retreating, as more arrows continue to rain from above, now the mages starting to join, raining balls of fire, ice, lightning, etc...

"You don't think you can keep this up forever, do you?"

"Maybe I can't, but..." says Tyler, still parrying his blows and dodging him. "Actually... Yeah, no, I can't... so let's switch it up a bit!"

Tyler heavily smites his sword and takes a step back, before he crouches and blasts off, taking to the sky once again.

The swordmen begin to hide themselves inside the houses, barring the entrances and windows to prevent the dark army from entering. A group of trolls is trying to push a door open. A pair of eyes watches them through a small gap in the barred window.

"You're not wanted here! Screw you!" cries the pair of eyes. One of the orcs roars at them, causing them to retreat once more, before a fireball drops and instantly incinerates the orc.

Tyler soars the sky, this time he flies through the top of the watchtower, grabbing a quiver from within and starting to orbit the Dark Lord. He chants once more, setting fire to the arrows, as he takes out his bow and starts rapidly firing flaming arrows at the army. The creatures are easily killed by the arrows, some with ease, by a well-placed arrow through the skull, and some are unfortunate to have to scorch to death. The Dark Lord raises his arm, blocking two arrows from impaling him, quickly picking them out and throwing them away. They leave two blackened bruises on his skin. He's getting angry now.

"Should I call for the wards, your eminence?" cries one of the high-ranking goblin knights.

"Let's not make this personal."

The Dark Lord starts to look around, as the monsters continue trying to break into the houses whilst being killed off quickly by the archers and mages, and his own army being slaughtered by the flaming arrows raining from the sky. His senses start to tingle, he stares at the watchtower, noticing a surge of energy circling around it, leading directly to the flying prince.

He raises his hand, slowly creating a large ball of dark mana, before firing it away. It whistles through the air until it smashes into the top floor of the watchtower, blowing it to bits. Around a dozen mages in blue robes are tossed out, mostly dead, some gravely injured. Enhancers.

A shiver courses through Tyler's spine, and he suddenly starts to feel weak. He stops flying and plummets to the ground. The Dark Lord laughs, approaching where the prince is to fall.

The prince crashes into the ground. He quickly gets up, the Dark Lord merely four feet away from him, still walking up to him. He starts panting heavily and gets up, trying to run but tumbling and falling in his panic. He starts crawling away, terrified, until the Dark Lord reaches him and steps on his foot, pinning him down. He struggles to let go but the Dark Lord steps on his foot so hard that he breaks it from the bone. Tyler cries, turning to him, and waves his sword, but he grabs ahold of the sword, which burns through his skin for a few seconds until he snaps it in two. The prince stares at him, with a terrified look in his eyes, heavily panting and about to collapse from his fear and panic. The Dark Lord grabs him by the neck and raises him above the ground, with his hand that is still smoking hot from the sword. Tyler starts to scream in pain, attempting to grab his hands and pull them away. He tightens his grip on his neck. He screams even louder, as the Dark Lord stares into his eyes, almost into his soul, with a dark and lifeless look. Tyler could see everything in his eyes, doom, hell, the afterlife... He tightens the grip even further, Tyler gazes into the distance, in severe pain.

"Arrogance can only take you so far."

He clasps through his neck, blasting it and shooting his head into the sky as his lifeless corpse tumbles to the ground. The head soars into the sky, before it drops into the chimney of one of the houses. It tumbles down the chimney and pops right in front of a group of swordmen hiding themselves within that house. They all stare at the head in utter shock, frozen at place.

"The prince is dead!" cries one of the swordmen. "All hope is lost!"

The orcs finally break into the house. The swordmen start to back off, terrified, as they grab the men out of the houses and into the fields. They are struggling to keep their composure, some crying and some trying to escape. The Dark Lord walks across all of them. Most of the men are now begging for mercy, pleading for one more chance.

"Oh please, sir Dark Lord!" cries a swordman. "I made a mistake! I tried to fight the greatest being in all of Nexonia... And it was foolish of me! Please let me live!"

He stares into the man's eyes, giving him a cold smile, almost one of content.

"After I have killed all the brave men who stood and fought ... You want me to let the cowards live?"

The man starts crying, dropping to his palms and knees, tears and sweat soaking the grass, begging and pleading for his life.

And now, commence the beheadings. The entire town was butchered. The men, the children, but not the women. They were kept, I believe it was to provide children to the dark army, but nobody is quite sure of that. What we are sure of, however, is that the town now belongs to-

"The Dark... Lord!" cries one of the orcs, as the other creatures cheer on, over the many headless corpses of the swordmen and the mages.

A short while later, a group of monsters start to pull something out of the water, it is the thunder wyvern. It is crying in a strained and diminishing voice, very clearly in a great deal of pain, with only one good wing, severely bleeding out of the other. A group of dark healing mages approach it and attempt to heal it, but there is no use. Tamer stands in the front, slightly worried, but calm. Tamer is a character whom I would rather introduce in thorough detail... in a couple chapters.

From behind the mages, one man appears, wearing a skull-shaped mask, a black robe, and a black pendant with a skull-shaped rune carved into it. They all make way for him to take the lead, his back bent downwards and his hands and fingers crooked. He raises his hands, uttering words in a strange and gust-like language, like runes of some sort. A wing-shaped skeleton starts forming out of the wyvern's wound, and it is slowly engulfed in flesh. The wyvern's wing is as good as new. Tamer is pleased and relieved. He looks at the strange mage, studying his figure.

"Thank you." says Tamer.

"This is a debt you owe the God of Death," says the mage, "and you will pay it when it is needed."

The Dark Lord watches the distance, he observes the path ahead of them. He smiles once again, he is getting closer to reaching his destination.

---

Jon and Rose are walking down a set of stairs in a dark room with walls of rigid stone that reek of stench and filth. She observes her surroundings, anxious and slightly afraid. They finally make it to the bottom, into some sort of dungeon, filled with jail cells left and right. He walks her up to one cell towards the end of it, and there, seated in a bench near the wall opposite them, is Tiab. He looks miserable and hopeless, dirt-ridden, his face all bruised, barely raising his eye to make out their figures, before lazily dropping them to the floor once again. Rose is still uneasy, she looks at Jon and then back at Tiab.

"How does it feel?" Jon says.

"It feels..." she starts to say, hesitating for a moment, "I don't know, Jon... It feels... strange."

"Doesn't it feel satisfying? Replenishing? Like a glass of cold water or something?" says Jon.

"I just..." she says, nervous. "I don't know, I guess... It felt better when I was not watching it."

"This is no human, this is a demon, and he hurt you." says Jon. "Spit on his face."

"Uh, Jon..." she says, leaning closer. "I can't spit that far."

"I'm not coming any closer." utters Tiab, in a tired manner, still not raising his eye.

"Alright, we've had enough." says Jon, before he starts to lead Rose away. "Fuck you, Tiab. Bye!"

---

Back at the frog caverns, Cricky is waiting in front of a large stone door near the middle of the cave. He is patient, yet clearly anxious. A faint croaking is heard and the door magically opens as two frogs come out, arguing madly.

"Ribbet shut up!" croaks the first.

"Nah nah like, for real, ribbet!" croaks the second.

"You're croakin' with me right now!" croaks the first. "You realize if the chosen comes in contact with the link... That means the end of it, right?"

"That's what the grand frog said, ribbet, the oracle even paraphrased it!" croaks the second.

"Nah ribbet you're playin'" croaks the first.

"Hey, hey, fellas, what's up?" says Cricky, joining the conversation.

"Cillian thinks the chosen and the link came in contact with each other, says the grand frog said so!" croaks the first.

"I heard it with my own croakin' ears!" croaks the second.

"I don't give a croakin' ass damn ribbet, listen, any of y'all know why I was called here?" croaks Cricky. They exchange looks, then shrug at him.

The croaking noise is heard once again and the door is opened. A third frog comes out, dressed in a purple robe with runes shaped as stars drawn all over it, a very wide hat, and a pendant with a large golden star around his neck.

"There's the oracle, why don't you ask him yourself?" croaks the second.

"What is it?" croaks the oracle, stroking his large throat sac.

"It's Cillian, he says he heard you rib- uh, you guys uh, saying that the.. the chosen and the link came in contact with each other. His words." croaks the first, nervous.

"Oh? Well, you must have misheard then." croaks the oracle. "We never said they came in contact, we said they were under the same roof for a brief while. You do realize that if they actually initiated contact... The entire world will end, right?"

"See?" bellows the first frog, bumping the second on the shoulder. He bumps him back, pissed.

"That's... almost too much of a close call, right?" croaks Cricky. The oracle turns to him. "Them being that close to accidentally ending the world as we know it?"

"The gods are always watching over us. They are always protecting us." croaks the oracle. "Cricky, I have something for you."

The oracle takes a large piece of folded paper out from behind his back and starts unfolding it.

"The grand frog needs something made." croaks the oracle, struggling to unfold the piece.

"What, an arm? A leg?" croaks Cricky, puzzled but attentively watching.

"Something grander." croaks the oracle, as he completely unfolds the paper, it becomes almost twice his own size. Cricky looks at it, it is a large metallic chamber surrounded by conductors and furnaces and pipes. He is completely puzzled now.

"This is..." Cricky starts to croak. "What is this?"

"This is the next step in The High Prophecy, we will soon have a guest visiting us." croaks the oracle, before turning to the other two frogs. "I need to leave for the capitol this instant, and I need two frogs to accompany me. I guess you'll do."

"On it!" the two frogs croak in quick succession.

"A guest?" croaks Cricky. "The chosen?"

"No." croaks the oracle, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "The link."

He pats Cricky on the shoulder and leaves, accompanied by the other two frogs, who continue to tease each other and bicker as they disappear from sight.

---

Jon and Rose are just coming home in the middle of the day. Jon starts to take off his coat and hang it, as Rose heads for the bedroom, but stops midway, turning to look at Jon, a bit anxious. Jon is anxious as well, it seems as though they both have something they want to say to each other.

"I'm... Sorry." she says.

"What are you apologizing for?" says Jon, turning to her.

"I don't know... I guess..." she says. "You expected... well... some kind of reaction like..."

"Why are you apologizing for that? Rose, just don't..." he says. "I wasn't waiting for anything, I just wanted you to get what you wanted, that's all."

"I'm sorry." she says.

"Stop apologizing!" he cries. "You don't need to say sorry for everything! You're the victim here!"

"I'm s-" she starts to say, nervous. "... Okay."

He sits on the couch and starts taking off his boots.

"Do you want to come to bed?" she asks.

"Oh yeah, sure, in a minute.." he says. She notices him struggling to take off his boots, so she rushes to help him.

"I'm going to help you." she says, as she immediately does so. "What do you want to eat? Chicken? I can get it done in half an hour!"

"I'm not hungry, uh, listen, I just wanted to ask..." he starts to say, eying her, hesitant. She looks at him, stopping her unbooting process and paying attention to him, restless. "Do you think this was a mistake?"

She is taken back by the question. He becomes even more anxious. She gasps for a quick second and looks away, embarrassed, before she turns back to him again.

"Did I..." she says, hesitating. "Um, was I not... sufficient, yesterday?"

"No, no you were great!" he cries. "Fuck, uh.. I don't think it was a mistake, I was just wondering if you... thought it was a mistake, that's all."

"Are you mad at me?" she says.

"I would never!" he cries. "Listen, Rose, it's just that... I don't think it's... well, I don't know how to uh... say these words."

"Say what words, Jon?" she says, as tears very subtly swell up in her eyes. She looks away once again. "Just... I'm sorry just say it right away."

"I don't think it's safe for you here, with me." he says. "And... Well, there's been some-"

A loud knock is heard on the door, startling them both. Rose instantly rushes to get the door, but Jon stops her.

"No, I'll get that, you stay here." says Jon. He opens the door to a knight with a letter in his hand, who hands him it.

"King Harry Wyvern invites you to his presence at a strategy meeting in two hours time!" cries the knight. "Please report as soon as possible!"

"Alright, thanks, get the fuck out of here." says Jon as he shuts the door in his face and turns back. Rose approaches him, still anxious and on the verge of tears.

"These knights just knocking on people's houses in the middle of the day, you'd think they'd start using pigeons by now..." he says.

"What is it, Jon?"

"Strategy meeting." he says.

"You want me to come with you?" she says.

"No, you stay here, get rested." he says, before looking her in the eyes and laying his hand on the side of her neck, tenderly but sadly. "We'll talk when I get back."

She nods at him, giving him a calm little smile. He smiles back.

---

Our usual group is seated at the table in the middle of the meeting room, everyone is present from the previous meeting - save for Tiab, of course. Captain Dormand, Captain Egnever, Archwizard Rot'Nem, Prince Markus, as well as Jon, Emit, Fangs, and the king himself, with his eyepatch placed on his left eye. Murmurs rise from the various small chats going on, clouded by worry, until the king starts speaking and drowns the noise.

"I have gathered you all today to discuss several matters. Normally I would let the commanders take care of this, but today's matters require a king." says the King. They quiet down and starts paying attention. "Now, I encourage you all to have some wine."

The servants start distributing cups to those seated. Fangs holds the cup in front of him, it feels different, somehow.

"... In some of my newly allotted plastic cups." says the king. "Despite how they seem, they are more elegant and king-like than the old glass cups. Please enjoy the plastic cups."

The servants start pouring wine into their cups. They drink, all except Jon and Emit, who seem to be avoiding their drinks.

"Now, let us start with our inside problem." says the King, taking a breath. "Our former general commander of police is rotting in prison, we need a new one. Any suggestions?"

"Is there any man capable of taking up this position?" says Dormand, laying his cup on the table.

"Not that I know of," says the King.

"How about Emit?" says Markus. Everyone turns to him, taken by surprise. "Emit works, right?"

Emit grows proud for a moment, until he looks around and notices everyone murmuring once again. He can feel everyone exchanging hear-say. He looks down, embarrassed, shrinking in his place. He knows what they're saying.

"Yes, but maybe I shouldn't, your highness." says Emit.

Jon and Fangs notice the murmuring and Emit's sudden change of mood and start to exchange looks. After a moment, Jon breaks his silence.

"I agree with Prince Markus." says Jon. They turn to him. "I think Emit should be general commander of police."

"Yeah, as do I." says Fangs. "He's capable, he works."

Emit raises his head, his embarrassment gradually disappears as he watches them.

"He's more than capable." says the prince. "He's been mentoring me for over 6 months now."

"And he hasn't had a drink since then." adds Jon. Jon looks at Emit, reassuringly smiling at him. Emit smiles back and looks at Dormand, who had just started speaking.

"I'm sorry for intruding on your little talk," says Dormand, "but what does all that have to do with the position in question?"

"Your majesty, if I might-"

"Out of the question." says the King, interrupting Emit. Emit is surprised, almost embarrassed again. "Your reputation precedes you, Emit."

"Who else is there to name commander, your majesty?" says the prince. "Name one, I'll be waiting."

A moment of silence. The King looks around at the other members of the meeting.

"No one." says the prince. "We are at a time of crisis and we must act fast."

"He's a drunkard." remarks the king.

"He hasn't touched a drink since he started training me, he hasn't even been drinking at the table as we speak!" cries Markus. "Say something, Emit!"

"I haven't drunk, I haven't been drinking, and I will not be drinking for as long as I live!" cries Emit, sitting up in his seat with a strict and serious look on his face.

"But you're not even with the police force, you're on outside affairs." says the King.

"I used to be in the police force, I've had experience and I've read and practiced in all sectors of the Nexonish army." says Emit. "I know all that is to know and all that is to be done, I am the man you are looking for - I am the one!"

Emit looks around himself, getting very serious and straight-sitting, his senses awakened. He looks at Fangs, who gives him a very subtle approving thumbs up.

"I think Emit is trustworthy, especially given his position in our upcoming plan." says Egnever.

"Plan? Is there something that I missed?" says Jon.

"We're... getting to that, in a bit." says Egnever.

The king ponders for a moment, rubbing his eyepatch and fumbling in his seat, until finally-

"Alright, you present a fair argument, and you gave me enough to think about, and I have thought about it." says the king. "Emit Rellevart as General Commander of Police, all in favour? Just kidding, I don't care what you think, you're hired."

Emit can barely stop himself from exploding into tears of joy, but he does so, keeping his calm and composure and silently standing and kneeling to the king.

"Your majesty, I am honoured, and I will make the best of my position. I will honor you and I will serve you with utmost respect and loyalty and I will put the kingdom's interest first, till my dying breath." he says before he seats himself once again.

"Now, for our more pressing matter." says the king. "I will let Captain Egnever tip you off."

"We have received a pigeon from Alijone with an urgent message, and that basically tells us two things." says Egnever. "One is obviously that we should have been using pigeons by now..."

Jon coughs involuntarily, sitting up in his seat and looking around.

"...And two, is that Thornridge Town was attacked by the dark army a few days ago. All of the townsfolk were slaughtered, including Prince Tyler Hawk, third-born son of King Damien Hawk of Alijone and one of the famed four - now three - Black-Masks." says Egnever. Everyone is turning in their seats now, some nervous, some angered, and some saddened. It is obvious that Prince Tyler was a significant figure. "King Damien plans a counter-attack to reclaim Thornridge and kill the infamous Dark Lord, once and for all, and we have already set in stone a plan that we think would grant us this victory."

"The Alijonian army is going to be storming Thornridge at the break of dawn, but only after they hear the bell from the watchtower, which Prince Markus is going to sound when he gets there." says Egnever.

"It's like three days from here to Thornridge, how are we going to get there by dawn?" says Jon.

"I have been in contact with Alijone's grand healer." says Emit. "We have the ability to cast a High Sanctuary spell, basically a... little healing circle which can also act as a teleportation spell. The grand healer and I have created a two-wizard sanctuary at a certain location in Thornridge, to which we will send Prince Markus."

"Oh?" says Markus, surprised, turning to pay attention to everyone. "Oh, that's me! Yes, what do I do? Who do I kill?"

"Preferrably nobody." says Egnever. "Not until you sound the bell. You need to stealth-mission your way to the watchtower or else they might... I don't know, silence the bell somehow, with dark magic, we don't know how dark magic really works, but they can probably do that."

"Stealth-mission my way to the watchtower, got it." says Markus.

"Are we all going?" says Fangs.

"Unfortunately, the two-wizard sanctuary can only teleport two people." says Emit. "Which means the prince can only be accompanied by one man."

"Emit needs to stay here to take care of the sanctuary from this end, and Jon has his leg problem which might be a liability," says Egnever. "So I think Eli would be the best choice."

Fangs stops moving, turning to Egnever and then the king, surprised.

"Damn." he says. "Me? What's the pitch?"

"You're a powerful mage," says Markus. "You can, somehow, create a whole army on call, and you're reliable. You were my first choice for the mission."

"Sounds good, man, I'm in." says Fangs. "It would also give me a chance to help you brush up on those conjuring skills, know what I'm sayin'?"

"As soon as you sound the bell, you will be joined by the Alijonian army, led by Prince Michael Hawk, first-born son of King Damien Hawk of Alijone." says Egnever, before turning to the others. "He is an astounding leader and most say he is the strongest of the Black-Masks so I believe that he, combined with the efforts of Eli and Prince Markus, could easily put a stop to the Dark Lord, maybe even get this prophecy accomplished early on, before the winter comes and we are... screwed, basically."

"Are you ready, son?" says the king.

"As ready as I'll ever be, your majesty." says Markus. "I will sever the Dark Lord's arms and put a sword through his heart, I will avenge the many men and women and children who had suffered in the hands of this foul beast!"

"Very well, then you are all dismissed." says the king, as they start getting up to leave. "Please don't take the cups with you, they are rare, we do not have more of them as of yet, but do feel free to take the wine bottles with you if you wish. Off you go now. Goodbye. Whoever's last, please shut the door behind you, I need a nap."

---

A large library with shelves over shelves over cases of books with no end, arranged in such a colorful way that makes it feel like eye candy, red, blue, green, yellow, orange, purple, red...

Three sophisticated persons in suits are seated on a table, reading, one with a pair of reading glasses, one with a monocle, and one with a large black top hat.

Emit, Fangs, Jon, and Markus enter the library, escorted by four guards in steel armor with large spears. Fangs is carrying a sack with him. Markus has a determined look on his eyes and a confident demeanor as he walks. Jon notices him.

"Not scared, are you?" says Jon.

"Bloody yes I am!" he cries, before the readers violently shush him. He turns to them, then back at Jon, turning his voice to a whisper. "Bloody yes I am! ... But I'm putting on a poker face."

"That's a really good poker face." whispers Jon. "You ever acted before?"

"Yes, actually, I played in an adaptation of Hamlet." whispers Markus, proudly.

"You played Hamlet?" whispers Jon.

"Oh, no, it was a different version." whispers Markus. "I don't know, it had lions and monkeys- it was a strange adaptation."

They reach the end of the library, where a glowing large circle made of light and magic, emitting rays of white light, is drawn on the ground, surrounded by a rotating circle of runes made of the same light. They stop in front of it, and Markus hesitantly turns to Jon.

"You got this." says Jon.

"I got this." says Markus.

"Say your prayers on the way, you're gonna need them." says Emit. "And remember, stealth mission. You got it? Stealth. Mission."

"Yeah, what do you take me for, an idiot? I know it's a bloody stealth mission!" cries Markus. The readers once again angrily hush him up. He quiets himself. "I'll be back by sunrise, hopefully in an hour."

"Yes you fucking will." whispers Jon, smiling and smacking him on the shoulder. Markus laughs, before turning to one of the guards, who Emit was just talking to.

"This place is quiet, you'll be able to easily see or hear anything coming or going." says Emit. "Keep an eye out for anyone trying to get close to the sanctuary, if anyone messes with it, we won't be able to get back."

"That's an order." adds Markus.

"Yes, your highness!" cries and salutes the guard. The readers get up from their places, furious.

"Shut the fuck up!" cries the one with the monocle, throwing a 1000-page book at the guard's head. He cries in pain for a split-second and rubs his head, fearfully complying and lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Yes, your highness!"

"Let's go, Mark." says Fangs. "We're running late. Take care of yourself Johnny, I'll see ya in a bit!"

Markus and Fangs both step into the circle, and in a moment, Emit sings two short notes and a long note, causing both of them to perish.

---

And out the other sanctuary they come! Looking around, they seem to be in the middle of a spacious dark wooden shed, with almost nothing in sight but an old door and hay littering the ground. They observingly step out of the circle.

"Okay, I'm just gonna scout the area to see what we're up against." says Fangs. He starts humming and waving his hands, conjuring a small, gray rat in front of him. The rat scuttles off and through the door's gap. Markus waits, nervous. Fangs turns to him.

"Do you think you can shape-shift yet?" says Fangs.

"What?" says Markus, taken by surprise. "No, no I don't think I can... but I can try."

"You don't need to, but if you can, that would be great. Y'know the Dark Lord has a thing for wolves, so you becoming one could tip the battle to our side easy." says Fangs.

"Noted." Markus simply says. They stay patient for a while, until Markus, not able to keep his anxiety to himself any longer, starts talking again.

"You think I could do this?" he says. Fangs turns to him, laughing.

"It's a trivially easy mission, Mark! Yeah you can!" cries Fangs.

"No, not the mission, I mean... The High Prophecy." says Markus, hesitantly, rubbing his shoulder. "What if I'm not the one?"

"You are the one. I foretold your prophecy myself." says Fangs.

"Yes, yes, but I feel like..." says Markus, worried, he takes a deep breath. "... I feel like I'm not ready, and maybe I never will be, at least not in time. Men who had been fighting all their lives have met their demise to him, men who had been fighting for half a century even! I'm 25 and I've been fighting for barely a decade, and I've only been learning the juicy stuff for six months which just isn't enough! It just isn't!"

"It is, Mark, there's a prophecy-"

"And the Black-Masks who had been so legendary, so well-spoken-of, a symbol of fearlessness and power... Just easily... like, boom! Dead! Tyler Hawk, Butchered!" cries Markus.

"Screw the Hawks! No offense, I'm sure they're cool people, but you are a Wyvern! You set fire to your enemies-"

"Well you see, that's the thing! Tyler literally tried to set fire to the Dark Lord, like, with a literal fucking flaming sword which is... First of all, holy shit! A fucking flaming sword?! Who does that- And then what happened? The battle lasted, what, ten minutes? Maybe fifteen?" cries Markus. "I don't set fire to my enemies, I freeze them, and I'm not too good at that either. So why me? Why was I the one chosen for this? Why not anyone else? Why not anyone more capable or more valiant or more experienced-"

"Chill, aight? Chill." says Fangs, roughly holding his shoulders and trying to keep him still, looking into his eyes in a calm demeanor. "It's gonna be aight."

"Yeah.." says Markus, nervously.

"Say it with me, it's gonna be aight. C'mon." says Fangs.

Markus rolls his eyes, staring into the distance, worried.

"Fucking say it, Mark!" cries Fangs, shaking him once again.

"It's gonna be alright." says Markus.

"It's gonna be aight, again, go."

"It's gonna be alright." says Markus.

"I don't feel it, man." says Fangs.

"It is going... to be alright!" cries Markus, staring into his eyes in a serious manner, with a frown that still carries a glimpse of hesitation.

"Things happen for a reason, and sometimes they don't." says Fangs. "Don't pay attention to how the gears of the world turn, just work the goddamn thing."

Markus stays silent, taking it all in. He ponders for a moment. The rat returns, hurrying to Fangs.

"Now get that dumbass frown off your face and man up." he says, before he turns to the rat. He crouches, as the rat comes closer to his face and starts squeaking. He listens, nodding at it, then pats it on the head. It disappears. He turns back to Markus. "The town is guarded by jungle trolls. We're gonna need to sneak past them, only kill if necessary, and remember; to kill a troll, you have to-"

"Burn it or cut its head off, I know." says Markus.

"Great, now put this on." says Fangs, as he takes two black cloaks out of the sack he brought with him, handing one to Markus. "Be one with the night."

"Catchy." adds Markus as he studies the cloak. "You should have that written on these cloaks, they'll sell like crazy."