Lyse felt like he was dead. That was the first thought. Even though he knew that this world was immaterial, the pain in all of his extremities was blaring and obvious once realized. The last he remembered, Hephaestus was blown to dust. They had won. He had no opportunity to build a new body, no time to resurrect his brethren in some glorious crusade in heaven. He, a simple man, had done him in. It was a powerful feeling, a massive relief. But this relief was also so brief. Because he realized quite quickly that this was not the end. He looked around at the expanse of sky that surrounded him. It had been a while, but this ever-present feeling of raw power and aura was unmistakable. The forever dawn of a nonexistent sun dotted with long and narrow clouds and the clear water-like surface reflecting the picturesque view. He was back in heaven, the apparent meeting destination for him and the gods from now on. And he was not surprised to see the proud and tall visage of the goddess looking upon him.
There was no sign of either pride or approval. No doubt she knows what he has done. But he found her ambiguity a good thing, somehow. Otherwise, he would feel even more like the lapdog he was for these beings. For now, at least. But either way, he knows the words she is to speak to him before she even spoke them.
"You have done well, young godslayer," Ergane told him. Like Hephaestus and all other times before, her voice seemed to come from everywhere within his mind. "It would appear that Hephaestus' spirit exhausted itself. Who knows what he would have done if given more time. But, he is in the past; there is much you must do, Lyse Opal."
"I know," he said. "This entire debacle had only been a distraction away from Talin and their efforts. While we made an effort cleaning up the mess of a traitor, they have been moving forward unabated, as before."
"We know," Ergane said. "And I must say first that we gods do not see the world as you humans. We still are oblivious to the dealings that Talin undergo, especially with how easily they seem to avoid godly detection. But we do fear they plan on striking fear into this new generation of godslayers before revealing their fangs. In what form that will take on, we shall only see. Nevertheless, we shall move on to the next phase in our own preparations."
"That being?"
The goddess raised her hand, gesturing to the reflection of the sky. He moved over hesitantly, looking down at what she gestured towards. He looked down at his own reflection. He looked horrid, blood and wounds still unclosed and tattered beyond belief. His armor might as well be a coat with some metal bits falling off of it. He hardly recognized himself like this. He complained that he looked too young for his age, but now he looked to of aged a decade over five months. He made a promise to shave when next he has the chance. But then the image changed into a series of images that flashed about. Not the vague visions he was treated to before, but clear images like he was there himself. He was brought to a sky filled with dark clouds storming and thrashing the air, a downpour bombarded the earth. He didn't recognize the terrain, but it seemed like a marsh speckled with dozens of small lakes and the ground overrun with water. A single horse and cart traveled along, a tarp protecting whatever goods. He didn't see the driver, but the image moved inside that tarp. On a bed of hay, he saw a man lying apparently asleep He was wearing rather tattered clothes, but well kept, a sword laying next to him. His dark hair laid across his narrow face. And Lyse thought for just a moment that he recognized him somehow. Then, a name appeared into his head, almost another voice entirely voicing it: Ryan Pesmenos.
The image shifted. He was taken to the sky once more, but this night seemed clearer. He knew that it had to be Torlak when he saw floating islands drifting all around and men and women moving through the sky as effortless as birds. The land of magic and Mystics. It was a different port, but a mountain laid not too far inland. He remembered from the map that this port is called Kalmas. It was just as impressive a spread as the capital, with many tall buildings peaking all about, some detached from the ground, and a brilliant display of lights that decorated the city. As the rumors say, even this late into the night, the city still moved. Such a thing is practically unheard of by Lyse. Then again, he doubts they must worry all that much about monsters wandering in town. His vision shifted a bit inland, zipping past a thin forest and onto a well-trimmed estate or perhaps a Torlakian noble of high station. Or maybe some sort of wealthy mage. Either way, this was the home of the next person. His vision was brought just outside of a window f a balcony on the top floor of the central mansion. It was a rather lavish room, though his vision extended only so far. It mainly focused on a woman sitting at a desk right next to the window. She had a rather large set of books before her, reading something from one and transcribed it to the next one. She was young, younger than he, Lyse supposed. Long red hair braided down one shoulder, an evening gown, and a few necklaces were all she wore. And vibrant orange eyes stared intently at her work. Again, a name appeared in his mind: Diana Sol'Louché.
Again, his vision thrust away from the scene, back into the sky. The night still held, but the sky became crowded by many purposeless clouds hanging about. Rather, it was a sullen place, a thick forest that eerily reminded him of the Forest of Silence. But he saw nothing around, no lights or any other sign of civilization. From what he could see, it could be in the Empire, but he wasn't entirely sure. The image fell, and down, through the treetops and then the forest floor. He faintly could see giant serpents navigating the area, but it went further. The ground, and then to open space. He was confused for a moment but then realized that this must be some sort of ancient structure still hidden. But, he realized soon enough that the corridors were not vacant. His heart froze when he saw a pair of men dressed like Talin warriors move along carrying a torch. He recognized the insignia on one of their cloaks. But his vision still descended. Was this some sort of prison then, like the one they kept his sister in? Again, the image fell and fell until finally, it stopped in a small and cramp room, a bed, chair, and chest all that decorated it. Laying there was yet another woman. She was asleep, but he recognized the features as a bit eastern, even more so than Shi'Ased. Many questions rolled over his mind, not the least of which why she was here in the first place. But before he could come to any conclusion, the name came: Rina.
Then, his vision shifted. It was a bit later in the night, nearly dawn by what he could see, but the sky looks far more different. The two moons were far closer to the horizon than before, and the stars were different. A massive expanse of jungle, miles, and miles in all directions was all he could see, no sign of civilization anywhere nearby. By the description alone, he guessed that this had to be the land known as Uman, the land of the Umani. This was where Novia was from. But he wasn't near the cities; it was nothing but open wilderness. He could feel the presence of nature intensely, and he felt somewhat at ease with the simple essence of nature. His vision descended into the thick treetops, birds fluttering about in their nocturnal activities, beasts slinking through the floor. He thought that maybe this next person would be hunting or such, but his sight settled on a spotted large cat sleeping on one of the branches. He was confused, but when the leopard shifted to find a comfortable spot, he understood immediately. The beast morphed into the form of a human, and Umani to be more precise. He wore no shift, just baggy pants and cords running across his grey ashy chest. It was a shifter, those born with a gift similar to the Thirians, except far more diverse in their applications, as there is practically no limit in what they may transform into. He seemed young. Very young. Maybe younger than Massia. He had nothing signifying a station or role. Maybe those cords mean something. Again, the name came clear in his mind. Maxx Tioniari.
And finally, the image moved back to familiar skies, and he knew that this was the empire. The orientation of the stars pointed that this was somewhere to the west, perhaps near Mount Kryn, in fact. He swore he could see the indent where the mountain used to be. But it instead focused on a small town amidst the many spotted tall trees that decorated the entire region. The town seemed to be some sort of mining town, several rails laid out headed into the nearby mountainside and caverns. While the streets were bare, there weren't that many guards making usual patrols. He was focused on a smaller building near the entrance. As his vision moved into the open door, he got a quick peek at the place's name; Lucas's Knook. Then, he saw a man sitting just outside the door. Men came in and out in a small burst, but he was undisturbed. He was holding a ceramic mug up but seemed unconscious at the moment. Drag brown hair covering his eyes, no shirt, but thick looking saggy pants and shoes worn with age. The only thing that Lyse found a bit odd was a tattoo he wore on his right shoulder. It was a mark of dismissal, someone who abandoned the army. A disgraced mark to bear, it was no wonder he was in this kind of situation. He was given the final name: Norman E Thagard.
"What do you see?" he asked him.
"Are these . . . godslayers like me?"
"Like you, yes," the goddess said. "They are waiting, all of them. Fate calls to them now, just as he called for you."
Lyse's thought went briefly to the image of his burning house, the pain in his heart impossible to ignore. That was his own call to action, though he did not know what he wanted then or where he was going. But this was for sure not the time to dwell on what would have happened if Fate never called for him. They must all bear a great burden and pain if they are to move forward. Ryan, Diana, Reighna, Maxx, Thagard. They are all cursed the same as him. But the question was, could he lead them from the dark, as he has stumbled. It was one thing for him to find his peace, find the ending that his mother and father had no chance of grasping. But these people? Would they suffer fates, perhaps even worse than his own? Some of them perhaps live out normal lives, no troubles besides what they may eat today or where to find work. And he's expected t upheave that peace.
"Are you sure that I can do this?" Lyse asked the goddess.
"You slew a god, yet you still doubt yourself?" Ergane asked him, a bit mockingly. "I have never heard of such a thing, truly. I am fully aware of what you humans can truly accomplish, given the proper motivation. I know that it may not be enough for me to say that I know you will succeed in vanquishing those who wish to destroy you and all you have come to care for. So I have a visitor to come to say his peace. Once more, I thank you for what you have done."
Before his eyes, she used away into spelling dust. Lyse looked a bit confused at what the goddess meant, but he suddenly got a warm feeling, like the sun's rays flashed across his skin. A strong aura right behind him. And a familiar one. He immediately turned on stilted legs, knees ready to buckle under the sheer exhaust. But he had to see it. He met with brightness, at first, as if the sun had fallen right next to him. But then, he saw the light slowly began to dim, more and more until the figure of a human was revealed. A handsome man, older than he, perhaps twice the age. He had shoulder-length brown hair tied back into a ponytail, a nicely trimmed beard not too large for his face. Even though Lyse would describe him as older, age was simultaneously an unfit measurement. He seemed timeless, living in both the earliest and latest times of a life Lyse never knew. His crystal clear eyes, blue as the azure sky, looked fondly and expectantly at Lyse with a small smile. Lyse was frozen where he stood, every limb of him unable to comprehend what he saw. But his mind did manage to conclude one single word.
"Dad . . ."
Wilbur Opal's smile broadened. "Hello, Lyse."
"I . . . no . . ." Lyse found himself at a loss of words. He took a few uncertain steps back, though standing was becoming increasingly difficult. His father was patient as he attempted to compose himself, and failing hard. Tears streamed down his face out of control, despite his stiff manners and focused words. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. If I was there . . . I could have done something. I could've-"
"You have no one to blame but me and your mother," he said. He reached out with a hand that seemed half physical, half not, like a breeze settling against his skin. He sat it atop Lyse's head. Warm memories of his father came to mind, comforting him with dreams and aspirations. And this was all too familiar. "I could only wish that I was there for you."
"So much has happened since then," Lyse told him erratically. "I learned of your past. About Talin, about Theurgy. They took Massia, and I had to find her. And then . . . and then . . . "
"I know," His father told him swiftly, pulling him into a hug. "I saw it all."
Lyse's eyes widened. He said softly: "How?"
"I was with you all this time in spirit," he said. "Watching you, an observer. I could not bear leaving you all behind, so I resisted the afterlife, though I lack the ability to appear in the physical world. But I saw you. All of you. All the pain. The love. The strife. Trust that for every moment, for every second that you believed that you were alone, you weren't. Though my presence is temporary, you will never be alone."
"So, what am I suppose to do now?" Lyse asked him. "I was barely able to defeat Hephaestus, and im sure the other gods will not be as easy to fell as he. How am I expected to lead several others on this path? I still shudder at the things I must do even as a knight. I'm so afraid of-"
"I believe in you completely, Lyse," he said. Those words, Lyse remembered the last time he heard them uttered so genuinely. When they decided to submit him for early training on his path to become a knight, his father's words, though he had almost forgotten them, resonated in his being till he was granted the title he sought after. And they still do, now in a new form. He saw as his father's face, so proud and vibrant, began to fade into the air, his touch becoming less and less tangible. "You inherited the same mind, the same cunning and stubbornness of your mother and me combined. You carry with you not just the honor and lives of the empire, but of all that comes before you, and sense. A will of fire that must not g out. There will be blood you will spill. And perhaps other's will help carry that burden. But there is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed where we have all failed. You are an Opal, a godslayer. Protect your home. Protect your family, your empire."
(X)
It was getting worse.
Moxie and her crew had succeeded with their initial goals of distraction and retreat. But it had become clear that after the three knights entered the temple proper, that this effort of evasion and attention would p[rove to be a tedious bout While they are no longer in the crater of which the city was built within, escaping into the surrounding sparse foliage, these automatons were quite avid in their pursuit. Despite most missing pieces or in straight disrepair, that did not stop them from breaking havoc as they must. They found this bout between man and machine harder than they assumed. It seemed men fell left and right, the ones that could make it out of the crater taking their assault in stride. Already she had to be saved by Tug, they were low on ammunition, and actual blade weapons proved to be useless against whatever metal these things were made from. Be they made from actual metals; they wouldn't be as much of an issue; several of her men knew how to use aura, some even had access to fundamental Torlakian magic. In actuality, that was the only reason that they were still fighting now. Recovery magic was hard to come by, but damn, was it not effective. But still, how long could they last like this.
She long abandoned her guns. Her sabers were destroyed when one of those automaton dogs chewed them up like toys. At this point, she had no choice. She had to dip into that side of herself. She felt her heartbeat slow, her mind becoming frantic with a sudden burst of energy. As she did, every extremity became alive with a newfound, vicious energy that ripped through her body. This part of her, untamed wild rage and emotion manifested in the smallest of ways. An automaton tried to catch her in the middle of her transformation, but her instincts became so sharpened that they might as well be moving underwater. She held out her hand, and the metal fist that attempted to disable her smashed to pieces upon the blow. The long claws ripped from their gloves and slammed into the chest of the machine before it could recover itself. It now laid as a pile of scrap on the floor. She hated using this power with every fiber of her being. But she had no choice. The godslayers must get their work done. But even still, she could feel some of the stares from those around her. She must indeed look quite grotesque as she does now, one monstrous hand that looked fit for a monster. She did her best to ignore it and focus on the task at hand.
The ground rumbled violently like an earthquake was beginning to crumble beneath them. She knew this to be the power of the gods clashing, and immediately she looked to the mountain they were before.
"If they aren't careful, they might bring the whole damned mountain on them," she whispered, but it instead came out as this cooing rumble. As soon as she realized this, she concentrated hard on removing the effects of her form. The more she remained even partially transformed, the harder it would be to turn back. And the experience was always excruciating. But if this went on, she would have no choice but resort to it. This truly cursed power, to use it, even made her stomach churn in dangerous emotions. And those emotions made that part of her, the animalistic savagery birthed of the unnatural. And it was hard to steady oneself on a battlefield. If she weren't careful, Moxie would be no more.
"Captain," Tug somehow appeared next to her. He was mostly uninjured, just a scratch across the chest. but seeing as he now held the arm of these machinations, he seemed ready for far more. "We have their attention all right; what now?"
"Let's keep the chase going," he said. "We don't know their range, but we'd want to keep them at bay for as long as possible. Then, continue the retreat south, and stay out of combat."
"Captain," Ralia appeared. Those golden sabers she wielded alight with some strange golden light. "Those things, they keep coming. We won't last much longer."
"I-" before she could give a command, another, much more resonant rumble seemed to tug at the ground, like something heavy just fell to the earth and ranged it like a bell. She could not sense aura like the knights, but her senses tingled as the air became a buzz and frenzy. Something big happened. And then, as she looked around,s eh could see as ll the automatons began to fall to the ground in heaps, one by one. Some were only inches away from ending one of her crew, others already dismantled. But all now lacked that red light that signaled some small sentience it had. They were nothing more than a hollow husk, just as they had been for eons now. But the power that left them left the area. That sixth sense that could feel an ever-present danger was no longer there. Everyone was in a wretched shock, standing before an enemy that threatened them moments before. But it did not take long for cheers to begin to erupt all over. The adrenaline,t eh thralls of battles released in all sorts of manner. Some cheered; others simply fell where they stood, absolutely exhausted from the treatment they had to endure for so long. Ralia and Tug were among a few who was silent, confused. But Moxie immediately looked back to the ruins. This must mean that the god was dead, right?
She ran, not paying mind that her men stood in silence watching her go. As she stumbled down the hill, passing the scrapped pieces of machines half missing, her mind feared the worst. Makyra and that kid, they couldn't be dead, could they? She rushed into the temple, immediately locating the stairwell and rushing down with haste. The heat was an immediate wave like she had entered an entirely new environment, but all her focus was running. Finally, she entered the spacious forge, torn to shreds by the battle that did ensue here. Weapons scattered about. She saw them all, laying down like ragdolls about. Makyra by the large cauldron, Edlund next to some large metal bat, and Lyse before a pile of dust face down. None of them moved, and for a moment, she thought her fears were proven. But as she moved to Makyra, she could see her chest rise and fall, and she was overtaken by relief. The other to as well. Unconscious, signs of aura exhaustion, but alive, more than she could say for what she presumed to be the god now dust. And by the looks of it, Lyse got the final blow. She turned him over. His knuckles were busted and broken badly; skin peeled back. But at least he showed signs of healing. They had done it. And they were alive.
She chuckled to herself, walking over to drape Makyra over her shoulder. "We are all so in need of drinks after this."
(X)
"So it is done?"
"So it seems. Reports are slow in coming, but it has been a few days since the god was last spotted near those ruins. We may be able to salvage something from that time if the godslayers allow so."
Atalanta took her time to consider. It wasn't much of an issue; better the godslayers keep their attention elsewhere than their own operations. Of course, the Prime Noctus is away on her own interests, but she doubts this news would be any surprise to what was happening. But still, Hephaestus is a powerful foe. The fact that this new godslayer already proves himself a threat is, in fact, noteworthy. She set aside the reports onto the empty table. Immediately two Makhai stepped forward, saluting. She stood.
"Summon Amond now."
They did so as told. Amond had been cooped inside that lair for months now, barely making requests even to eat or rest. In the first few weeks of his allotted quest, he was, for the most part, irate anytime Atalanta or even one of her servants visited him for obvious reasons. But for a while now, he seemed to be in a routine he found quite familiar. All mages were the same when it came to this, really. Give them a task they are good at, and soon enough, they will become mindless machines of efficiency. She can't even imagine how many golems he has made already, how many sheet familiars. No wonder The Prime Noctus has not killed this fool for attacking her. With his work, they need not worry about human resources for scouting or even potential conflict in the future. It is honestly a waste work like this is banned in Torlak of all places.
Amond arrived, obviously back to his petulant self now that she had torn him away from his doings. "I did not ask to be pulled away from my work. There better be a fine reason why you so intrude Athena."
"Atalanta," she corrected. "And you are here to report."
"You could have just taken my statement from your friends," he jutted towards the makhai but did not turn. He, more than others, was skittish around them anytime she saw him. Despite being a necromancer, these undead warriors seemed to set some alarm off in his mind.
"Get on with it," she told him. "I have reports too."
He sighed, but complied. They may be somewhat equal in rankings, but he will be under her direct supervision as long as he is working on this project. Really the reason she brought him here personally was to assess him up close. They have had no words of traitors or the like since the cleansing during the Prime Noctus' ascension. But that doesn't mean opportunistic cowards won't try and slip a knife into ready backs. She believes that the only reason Amond's head has yet been collected was that he was hiding away in his own rat den, not able to participate in the civil conflict. If he did, she feels she knows full well what the outcome would be.
"The golems have been moved to their appropriate areas," he said. "A thousand strong. A hundred in ready use. I have managed to create over five dozen sheuts, ready to receive orders as well."
"Good," Atalanta said. "They will prove vital ways of communicating between agents. For too long, we have lacked means of contacting plithos too distant or remote."
"Yes, please do remind those bull-headed imps that these do not play things," he said. He held his hand before him, the shadows beneath his feet growing unnaturally darker. Then, the black form of a lion leaped out, purple veins of necrotic energy pulsing through it. It seems that in the meantime, he found a replacement for his old pet. "These creatures are walking works of art. Even with the resources you have provided me, and it takes weeks to gather the necessary components. And even then, it is not a sure phenomenon whether one will be birthed."
"Yes, yes, I'll be sure to tell them all of this," she honestly couldn't care less what the Plithos do with their given Familiars, just as long as they still function per their intended purpose. "Tell me, do you have any inkling as to the happenings of Torlak as of late."
"No, obviously," he said, though she noticed a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I haven't had the chance to get in touch with my contacts, and I fear that if I were to step foot back on the island, I might end up to the mercy of proper authorities."
"Well, we have been in good contact with these informants of yours," she said. He did a good job hiding his response. "So far, the Grandmaster has been on his usual clandestine efforts, and things seem all well in the nation as well. Torlak even more than their brethren had made tremendous progress."
"I see that this will not last after the coming days?" he asked.
"We must take the opportunity to cripple our opponents before they move against us," she said. "Such is the way of things."
"What does this have to do with me exactly?" he stepped a little closer, a bit curious of her intent.
"I assure you I'm not here to make a fool of you, and my mistress has done plenty herself."
"Scathing remarks from a glorified lapdog," he bit back.
"And what were you to Umerius?"
"That no longer matters," he said. "I've already been paid what I was owed. I am merely now a humble servant to the seat of Prime Noctus. The same as you, Athena. Now, if you could excuse me, I'd like to get back to my work."
He left. She waved the makhai to stand by and let him past, which he did with noticeable haste. Her comments were only there to stir something within the man. And though she touched upon sour subjects, he did an outstanding job keeping his composure. No wonder he was the right-hand man of Umerius all these years. Hopefully, that devotion and wit will serve The Prime Noctus just as well.
(X)
"So this is goodbye?"
"We should get on our way," Makyra swung onto her own horse, holding the reigns to the pack horses given to them. For the past few days, they have all felt like they had been dragged down a mountain, and they looked the part as well. They made the journey back to Mer'Dith, Makyra giving her healing treatment when she could. They spent a lot of the ride trying not to hurt and the time in camps and tents meditating to gather the aura necessary to heal whatever wounds they still could. But they were alive and glad to be that way. In fact, Lyse has never had the urge to smile more than now. He told Edlund immediately about his talk with their father. And though he dismissed it as near-death hallucinations, the look on his face said it all. The words that Lyse passed had their obvious effects, and he, too, had a smile on his face. Makyra treated the occasion as routine, of course, but appreciated the words that Wilbur passed on. But now, more than ever, Lyse wanted to get home. He wanted to get to his sister and mother. He was sick of being away at this point.
Merdith was in better standings since last they left the outposts. The Frostlanders have yet made any counterstrike against them, and the reinforcements they had received help in recovering some level of security on the river. As soon as they even approached it, they were approached by two knights from the reinforcements. Both were from Lykos, told by the white fur that lined their helmets and the insignia of the wolf howling at two moons. Though they were fully ready to tear them apart on sight, they immediately disarmed themselves, seeing Lyse Edlund and Makyra leading the men south. They jumped onto the path, swords still drawn but obviously restrained. It was more of a show of confidence rather than a threat.
"Hail, fellow children of the wolves," Makyra immediately called out. "We travel to the fort near Mer'dith."
"Hail," the one on the right said. Then, with his free hand, he pulled off his helmet to show his face. Though young, he was heavily scarred. His white eye was scarred and ruined, hidden by a white patch. "I am knight Tolmus, and This is my partner Gornius. We arrived with the reinforcements provided by our lord Vulkus III. We have had word that you may be returning."
"Is that so?" Lyse asked. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I do hope that our ship is still in one piece, yes?"
"Of course," the other, Gornius said. He did not take off his helmet, the pristine faceplate hiding all but sunken eyes. "Your . . . rowdy companions have done their part in the conflict, and we have respected their given boundaries despite their lack of citizenship."
"How much did the gold tooth one take from you?" Edlund asked Gornius, who seemed taken aback. But Holmes was seemingly waiting for anyone to bring up the topic."
"Gornius lost nearly a quarter of what he brought here, 150 silver," he chuckled to himself. "He is a demon with cards that Asedian. Glad I wasn't in the mood."
"Only a quarter?" Moxie snorted. "He's off his game. Either way, we'll be out your white hairs in a bit. Give my men the day."
"Take the time you need; you have more than earned it, Hathan," Tolmus told her. "Hagroth also sends his regards. But, unfortunately, he makes the journey back to Lykos."
"Did he give a reason?" Makyra asked.
"Nothing beyond some personal business," he said. "But I assure you that this position lies in capable hands, brothers and sister."
Lyse had the feeling that Mer'dith's security was the least of Makyra's worry. He had felt she seemed a tad out of place whenever Hagroth is ever mentioned. Despite this, Hagroth always seemed unbothered by her. Nevertheless, they allowed the knights to escort their party ack to Merdith. Though still a little battered, the spires of ice still evident from the past encounters, but the fort seemed to be in a state of repair. The reinforcements meant more labor to rebuild any destroyed structures, and no doubt the knights helped in securing the wall once more. More permanent bridges were attached, which they crossed. The Nautilus Omega was immediately visibly even above the trees at one point. Just sitting there downriver, it seemed so out of place in the tundra environment, even if it was now covered in snow and ice. Tons of camps dotted around it much like those set up around the fort itself, packed with soldiers, scribes, and weaponsmiths who set up portable shops to do their work. There was even a temporary table set up to accompany the horses. There was more life here than Lyse had honestly seen in the past week, and it was more than a welcoming sight. Even more so was welcome. Those who were there at the battle gave out cheers and applause at their return, along with some polite acknowledgment from Lykos soldiers. As much as Lyse wanted to stay and perhaps rest a bit, they had agreed that they ould depart eastward, following the trail all the way to Silondras within the few weeks.
"So this is goodbye then?" Blij had approached. As people celebrated reunions and began loading supplies back onto the Nautilus Omega, Lyse Edlund and Makyra had already readied themselves for the journey home. "It is sad, but I also hate the weather. I do bid you, farewell new friends."
"As to you," Lyse said. "We thank you for your hospitality and protection and grant you safe days on the seas."
"I don't need blessings; I'm a walking luck magnet already," he said with a chortle. "I should be the one blessing you. Home should welcome you with open arms."
"We sure hope so," Makyra said, then turned to Moxie, who was already dismounting and shouting at men to take her horse to the onboard stables. As soon as they locked eyes, they smiled fondly. "And to you, sister, I hope our paths cross once more."
"Tell that woman . . .give Celia my regards would you, James too."
"Of course," she said. "I hope you intend to do the same for me in regards to queen Lizbeth?"
Moxie visibly shifted uncomfortably at the mention of her name but nodded. "We'll see. And you two kid knights, keep yourselves up; things only get harder, remember."
"Don't remind us," Edlund said in feint stiffness.
"Our paths will meet again," Lyse told her. "Like you said. "Your path and ours are already intertwined."
"Well, you're going to have to catch me, 'cause I don't intend on making it easy for Fate," she said.
They gave their farewells. Besides getting some spare weapons and rations, Lyse, Edlund, and Makyra left as quickly as they could. They were more than glad to lead the harsh environment of the frostlands and return to the regular winter blight the Clans were accustomed to. Silondras was not far; at best, they'd make it in two weeks, missing the end of the year festival that Lyse supposed that would become. This would be the first time they would ever miss any of these festivals. Home never felt so far, yet so close to them. But they were returning home, and that was the greatest blessing that could be given to them. They were tired, beaten, and cold. Their bones ached, and their minds throbbed with all they had encountered. It was time to get home. It was time for rest.