Whitecliff Academy (Completed)

by DavidMusk

Twenty years have passed since the forces of humanity joined together to overthrow
their rulers-an ancient and supernatural race of beings known as Aeons. After many
years of being hunted and purged for the tyranny of their ancestors, the Aeons have
been forced to retreat into the deep corners of the world. Many of them claim only
to want peace, and an end to the bloodshed of their race.

One of these people is Nahlia Cole. Her mother was an Aeon, killed twelve years ago
during the purge. Now she lives in secret with her father in the small, peaceful
village of Northshire.

But when Nahlia's father is arrested by the Templar order, she's forced to make a
decision. In exchange for help from a fellow Aeon who promises to rescue her
father, she will have to use her lineage to gain access to Whitecliff Academy, the
last known Aeon sanctuary in the world.

Now, Nahlia is thrust into a secret world where young members of the great Aeon
clans are secretly trained in the arts of war and combat. As the intentions of
their enemy become clear, Nahlia is forced to choose between her family and the
future of her entire race.

| Featured Story | Highest Ranking: #1 in Fantasy, 8/15/16 | Wattpad @Fantasy

Community Favorite |

=================

Summary

Summary

Twenty years have passed since the forces of humanity joined together to overthrow
their rulers-an ancient and supernatural race of beings known as Aeons. After years
of being hunted and purged for the tyranny of their ancestors, the Aeons have
finally retreated into the deepest corners of the world. Many of them now advocate
for peace, and an end to the bloodshed of their race.

One of these people is Nahlia Cole. Her mother was an Aeon, killed twelve years ago
during the Purge. Now she lives in secret with her father in the small, peaceful
village of Northshire.

But when Nahlia's father is arrested by the Templar order, she's forced to make a
decision. In exchange for help from a fellow Aeon who promises to rescue her
father, she will have to use her lineage to gain access to Whitecliff Academy, the
last known Aeon sanctuary in the world.

Now, Nahlia is thrust into a secret world where young members of the great Aeon
clans are trained in the arts of war and combat. As the intentions of her enemy
become clearer, Nahlia is forced to choose between her family and the future of her
entire race.
Reader Feedback

"This is one of the best books I've read on Wattpad, and I am glad to see it is
being further recognized! You have built such a detailed world--history and war--
and two fierce characters who can stop it!

You are such an extrordinary writer. Each scene is described so perfectly--I can
see it vividly. You don't overwhelm a reader with large

words and too much dialogue. You show rather than tell, which makes for a smooth
pace.

I love the character Nahlia. She is so strong, even if she doesn't appear so to
Thane on the outside... YET! (when she appeared to him like a torch in a dark
blizzard). What a great way to describe his impression of her. I love how you are
building their relationship as a team. With each encounter, they learn something
new about the other. And build on to their plans to save her father.

You definitely have a gift for story-telling.

This story is absolutely incredible." -Tessalovesjem

"It's amazing how you incorporate societal problems, political sides, AND religion
in your story instead of just one. It makes it so much more nuanced." -
happyfacecrystal

"This book is honestly one of my all-time favourites!! I can't wait for the update,
I wish this was already completed :) It's so interesting, more captivating than
published books that I've read." -123alexandra99

"This is an exceptionally interesting and compelling story. I am truly enjoying

this and look forward to not only finding out how this develops, but also in
reading anything else you may write!! :) :D" -HelenGraul

"That was a great chapter! I really like how you keep making more and more
interesting things as you go along! This is probably one of my favorite stories on
Wattpad! Keep going! I don't know where you get all these great ideas from!" -
warriorcats9177

"Just reading this, gives me a Tolkien feel and a little bit of Rowling, but
there's also so much originality. I really like this." -BreeLynnFaith

"I'm enjoying this immensely!! Waiting for the next instalment with baited breath!!
It just gets better and better with each chapter!!"-DjCampbell2

"I think it's amazing. You are such a talented writer and you have a great creative
mind!" -tayzer611

"I can only imagine how much work you put into this!" -arya2424

"I love your writing style and your development of imagery. I can just see the
sparks flying as the blades clash, hear the clashing, and feel the tension in the
air. :D" -RicecreamAsian

"I love how you describe her surroundings. I can almost imagine myself there!" -
silverdawn13

"This book is so amazing, I cant wait until the next update. You are such an
amazing writer" -MussonS

"This is absolutely amazing." -KpopNightcore13

"Love how witty Nahlia is.. A quick thinker"-RainbowSunsets

"Seriously, absolutely loving this book! It's wonderful, Keep up the good work! I
hope writing makes you as happy as it makes your readers, so thank you." -
xheartsdesirex

"I've got no words for how good this book is, I really love it." -Ally-Thompson

Copyright Notice

Copyright © 2016 by David Musk

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or
other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the
author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and
certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

=================

Map

This is a rough map I made showing how I imagine Valaridor (the main continent in
which this story takes place.) For now I just focused on the general shape of the
continent and the locations of the various towns and cities. Nothing as detailed as
mountains and rivers yet, but I plan on refining this as the story progresses.

For anyone who isn't familiar with images on Wattpad, you can click to enlarge.

=================

Pronunciation Guide

I've received a lot of questions in regards to the pronunciations of certain words,

names and places throughout the book. I figured it would be a good idea to keep it
all in one place so that new readers don't have to go digging through the comments
to find what they need.

I'm sure I'll add more as the story progresses.

Aeon - Ae-on (rhymes with crayon)

Archaeon - Arc-aeon

Nahlia - NAH-lee-a

Antares - An-TARE-ees

Antarian - An-TAR-ee-in

Dreshtae - Dresh-tay

Spectre - Spec-ter

Kyroth - KYE-roth

Lindilus -LIN-dil-us

Alveron - AL-vir-on

Ciena - Sigh-EN-uh

Zidane - Zi-dayne

Idemre - Eh-DEM-ray

=================

1: No Place for Aeons

Evening settled over the Northshire library, and Nahlia sat curled up in her
favorite chair by the window. Her eyes danced over the familiar words of Aeonica,
and the stories she knew by heart.

This single book had furnished the food for a thousand wild legends about the Aeon
race. The powers they wielded, the wars they started, the empires they ruled. The
library's copy was old and worn, with a web of cracks and tears scattered across
its leather cover. Pages had been torn out over the years, and those that remained
felt as dry and brittle as autumn leaves between her fingers.

Nahlia flipped through to the end, revealing a spread of full-color illustrations.

She cradled her chin as she admired a painting of Treluwyn. The famous Aeon woman
knelt over the body of a fallen warrior in the midst of some great battle. Smoke
and dust choked the air above, and the ground beneath her was solid ice. With a
palm pressed to the warrior's open heart, Treluwyn healed his fatal wound.

Like Nahlia, the woman had pale skin and long, auburn hair. Only her eyes were
different. While Nahlia's eyes were a dark, forest green, Treluwyn had the eyes of
a full-blooded Aeon. Bright, blue, and clear as sapphires.

She had spent hours staring at these illustrations, just as she had spent hours
reading the stories. Whether they were history or myth, she couldn't say. Still,
with blessed little else to do in a town like Northshire, she often daydreamed
about wielding the powers of these ancient Aeons. Sometimes, she got so caught up
in her reading and daydreaming, that she would-

"Nahlia?" a female voice called

her name, tapping her shoulder.

She jumped and turned to see the librarian, Miss Cadwell ,standing behind her.
Concerned blue eyes glanced down at her behind a pair of half-moon spectacles.
"It's past sixth bell, dear. Shouldn't you be off to work by now?"

"What?" Nahlia's gaze darted toward the clock tower outside. Quarter past six. Had
she really been that distracted? Losing track of time was one thing, but not
hearing the bell? That was too strange, even for her.

Nahlia sprang to her feet. She closed the tome and began organizing the cluster of
yellowed parchments and tomes that littered her desk.

"Don't worry about those," Miss Cadwell told her. "They'll be here tomorrow when
you get back."

Nahlia paused, mid-cleanup. "Are you sure? I'd hate to leave a mess behind."

"Quite," the librarian assured her as she gestured to the copy of Aeonica. "We
don't get many visitors, and you're the only one who takes an interest in these,
anyway." She made a shooing motion with her hands. "Run along now. Hurry, you're
already late as it is."

"Thank you so much," Nahlia said. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Outside, the evening air was cold and dark. Nahlia suppressed a shiver and crossed
her arms, silently scolding herself for forgetting her cloak. Her barmaid's uniform
consisted of only a simple white blouse, a gray linen skirt, and a matching vest.
Hardly enough to keep her warm this time of year.

The last rays of twilight filled the town square, punctuated by lamplight spilling
from tavern doorways. The cobblestone streets shone with fresh rain water,
reflecting the

lights of the town and the violet sky above.

Her route took her past various shops and houses, historic buildings and autumn-
bronzed trees. Nahlia broke into a jog when she reached an open stretch of road.
She rounded into an alley to take a shortcut, only to collide face-first with a
tall man in a gray plated military coat.

"Oh." The man reached out a hand to stabilize her. "Pardon me, miss."

"No, I'm sorry," Nahlia replied as she stepped back, brushing away several lose
strands of hair. "It was my fault."

She estimated the man was five or ten years older than her father. A thick gray
beard framed a face otherwise hidden beneath a metallic mask. He gave her a
courteous smile and stepped aside, making a grand show of gesturing her forward.

Nahlia returned his smile and carried on. Although, there was something ... off
about this stranger. The sword and dagger at his belt suggested he was a mercenary,
but his clothes were too light and too fine for any Northerner.
Could he be... Nahlia shook her head, pushing away her paranoia before it could
take root. The stranger was surely a mercenary. No cause for concern.

She reached the Moonstone Inn a few minutes later. It was a large building by
Northshire's standards. Standing three stories high, it had a bright wooden facade
and a blue-shingled rooftop. Elegant and simple. The perfect place to call home

The warmth of the fireplace greeted her as she entered, along with the familiar
smells of baking bread, steaming hot soup and cold ale. The usual rabble filled the
common room; farmers, merchants, craftsmen, and a handful

of new travelers whom Nahlia didn't recognize.

"There you are," her father called out from behind the bar. His hulking frame
towered over the clientele, and he waved one heavily muscled arm at her. "I was
beginning to worry."

"Sorry," Nahlia, leaning on the bar to catch her breath. "I got distracted again."

"I see." Her father chuckled. "Retribution for all those times I made you read as a
child?"

"Something like that." Nahlia rolled up her sleeves and fastened her apron. "Miss
Cadwell practically forced me out the door. I think she was concerned that my own
father might fire me for tardiness."

"Naturally," he said, pouring several shots of whiskey. "That's how things worked
when she was your age, after all. Speaking of which, you're seventeen now; Isn't it
about time I traded you off to some eligible young bachelor for a pair of oxes?"

"Oxen," Nahlia corrected.

"I take it back," he said at once. "Make that a single ox."

"Very funny." She narrowed her eyes, suppressing a grin. "I'm relieved to know old
age hasn't spoiled your sense of humor, Father."

Nahlia considered telling him about the suspicious man in the alley, but missed the
chance as one of the regular patrons knocked his empty mug on the mahogany bar.

"Hoy, Cole! How 'bout a refill down here, yeah?"

He turned to address his patrons, and Nahlia headed for the back of the inn.

The head cook, Hector, was busy slicing away at several red slabs of meat. The
older man handled his butcher's cleaver with such ferocity, Nahlia assumed he
must've been

a war veteran like her father. That would also explain how he'd lost his tongue.

When her father first purchased the Moonstone Inn, he had her stationed here in the
kitchen, away from the general crowds, making soup and bread. But unlike Hector,
Nahlia quickly grew bored with the same repetitive tasks.

She wanted to meet the travelers who came through here from distant towns; she
wanted to see their faces and hear the stories they told. After all, if she were
truly destined to spend the rest of her life in this backwater town, at least she
could live vicariously through someone else's adventures. Nahlia had her books,
true. But being cooped up in libraries and kitchens was no way to live.

"No, I think you'd be much safer in the kitchen," her father had told her when she
first suggested working out in the dining room. "Besides, some of those miners
might be a little too happy to see you out there."

"I'll go mad if I have to spend another night trapped with only Hector as company."
She smiled sweetly at him. "Besides... if anyone tries anything with me, I'll just
remind him that the strong, slightly-paranoid war veteran standing behind the bar
is my father."

That was over two years ago. Now, Nahlia had gained the reputation as one of the
best barmaids in town. This came easy to her now... too easy. She often found her
mind wondering- longing for something more.

Before long, the bustling dinner crowd had dwindled down to just a few tables-
mostly workers who had just finished their shifts in the iron mines. Nahlia was
walking past one of these groups when a boy about her age

sat down, catching his breath.

"What's with you?" a larger miner asked through a mouthful of bread.

"You won't believe this," he began. "I was walking here from the mines when I saw a
group of Templars leaving the mayor's house."

Mention of the Templars caught Nahlia's attention, and she immediately moved closer
to the group, scrubbing a wine stain from a nearby table to look busy.

The larger man snorted. "Yeah, you're right. I don't believe it."

"I saw them!" he exclaimed. "Least five or six. They were wearing silver armor and
white cloaks like the ones you hear about in the stories."

"The hell you babbling about, boy?" a third miner interjected. He was older than
the first two by several decades, with wrinkled skin and an unkempt head of silver
hair. "Northshire's nothing but farms and mines. Nothing for the Templars here."

"Aye," the other miner agreed. "And silver armor doesn't mean shit. You probably
just saw some rich folks' bodyguards."

The boy glared at them. "You think I can't tell the difference between Templars and
hired bodyguards? They had the Templar sigil on their shields and everything, I'm
sure of it!"

While some of the other miners began bickering and asking further questions, the
older man simply shook his head incredulously. "I've lived in this town for fifty
years, boy. In all that time, I've never once seen a single Templar come through
here. Northshire is no place for Templars. Or Aeons, for that matter. "

"No place for Aeons, you say?" The voice came from a dark corner near the
fireplace. Nahlia hadn't noticed the man until now, but he was handsome

and well groomed. His dark clothing was fine and tailored, even his speech was more
articulate than the others. A traveling scholar from the South, perhaps?

"So tell me then," the scholar went on, "have you ever seen an Aeon before?"

"Course I haven't seen an Aeon." The old man took a proud swig of his ale. "And
fine by me if I never do."

The scholar smiled, slightly amused. "So... if you've never seen an Aeon, then how
would you know if you did?"

"I've heard the stories, same as anyone else. Everyone knows Aeons are tall, with
silver hair and violet eyes. They make themselves beautiful so they can deceive
us."

"Heh, beautiful,." The larger miner chuckled. "That's more than I can say for this
lot."

The Scholar shrugged. "Perhaps that can be said for the Antares clan that once
ruled Ascalon. But I was in there in the capital at the end of the war. I witnessed
all manner of Aeons being slaughtered by the Templars. Not just nobles and
warriors, but innocent children as well."

His words quieted the rest of the room, drawing them in as he spoke. Even Nahlia
stopped scrubbing her table to listen more intently.

"I can tell you one thing for certain," he said. "Aeons come in all shapes, sizes,
and colors. To the naked eye, they're no different from humans. And in the end,
they scream and they bleed... just like humans."

One of the quieter miners cleared his throat and spoke up. "So... you're sayin'
there could be an Aeon here with us here right now-in this room-and no one would be
the wiser?"

"Precisely. For all I know, it could be one of you."

He gestured in a wide arc around their table. "It could be the innkeeper... even
that barmaid over there." The young scholar caught Nahlia staring at him and he
flashed her a smirk. She quickly darted her eyes away, back to the table she'd been
scrubbing.

"Soooo," one of the more tipsy miners began, "if these Aeons can blend in with us
like you say, how did the Templars get so good at hunting them?"

"Because the Templars are ruthless," he said, as if this were already common
knowledge. "They're also very thorough. When they hunt an Aeon, they learn
everything there is to know about him. What he looks like, where he lives, where
he's been, and who he loves.

"And even if an Aeon were to change his appearance-leaving his old life behind -the
Templars would still have their methods. They would bribe or threaten their way
into the information they needed. Or worse, they would use his own family against
him."

"Well shit," the larger miner murmured. "Glad I'm not an Aeon."

The older man nodded in agreement, narrowing his eyes at the young scholar. "You
sure seem to know a lot about this..."

The scholar gave a careless shrug and returned to his drink. "Well-like you said,
we've all heard the stories."

Having heard enough, Nahlia picked up her tray of dishes and prepared to move onto
a new table. Before she could, she was startled by a shout at the front of the inn.
"They're here!" a voice called out. It was the same boy from earlier. "The
Templars! They're coming this way!"

Her hands began to tremble, and she had to set her tray down before she dropped it.

Calm down Nahlia, she told herself. Take a deep breath; it could be nothing.

She made her way over to the window where a small crowd had already gathered. At
first she saw nothing. Just blackness, and the glow of the oil lamps reflecting
back at her from the hazy glass window.

Nahlia used the sleeve of her blouse to wipe away a layer of fog. As her eyes
adjusted to the darkness, she saw them. The silver clad figures were tall and
menacing in the night, like ancient statues brought to life by some magical force.
Slowly but surely, they were approaching the Moonstone Inn.

Her father grabbed her by the wrist, hurrying her back into the privacy of the
kitchen.

"Father? What's going on?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "It could be a false alarm."

"I don't understand... what are they doing here in Northshire?" As soon as the
words left her mouth, she realized how naive and childish they sounded. Ever since
the Revolution ended, the Templar Order had existed for one purpose; to hunt down
and kill the remaining Aeon survivors.

Templars in Northshire could only mean one thing; they were here for her.

"They might just be here for information," her father said, as if in answer to her
thoughts. "They could be tracking someone else-someone who passed through town
recently."

"Of course," Nahlia said through several shuddering breaths. "You're right."

He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "But just to be safe, I want
you to go upstairs and keep out of sight. And-if things sound bad down here-I want
you to run. I want you to get far away from Northshire. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Nahlia nodded. "What about you?"

Before he could answer, the front door of the Moonstone swung open with a hefty
groan, and several pairs of heavy boots clomped inside.

=================

2: The Templars

"Go!" Her father whispered urgently, and she dashed up the stairs to her bedroom.

She pulled a traveler's sack out from under her bed. It was already pre-packed with
food, medical supplies and a change of clothing- everything she needed for an
emergency retreat. With her bag fastened in place, Nahlia wrapped a warm cloak
about her shoulders. She would need it if she were forced to spend a night in the
wilds outside Northshire.

Satisfied that she had everything she needed for a quick escape, Nahlia crept into
the dry storage area-a small loft that overlooked the rest of the inn. She crouched
down among the barrels of wheat and grain and looked out over the rest of the inn.

From this vantage she could see four Templars spread out across the common area.
They were wearing heavy plate armor and carrying an array of weapons including
swords and crossbows. Somehow, their commanding presence made the rest of the inn
seem small and insignificant by comparison.

The four men searched their surroundings with a blatant military efficiency.
Obviously discretion wasn't a priority for them. While that kind of behavior might
have worked for them inside the Republic where Templars were both respected and
feared, she knew that the residents of Northshire wouldn't take kindly to that.

Her eyes wandered down to the bar directly beneath her and she the Templar
commander talking to her father.

"Aaron Cole?" A deep voice echoed beneath a silver mask.

He gave the man a careless shrug. "Never heard of him."

The Templar only chuckled. "Don't bother denying

it, Cole. I may not know your face, but I did have conversation with your good
friend, the mayor. And I'm sorry to say, he told us everything."

Nahlia couldn't see her father's face from the loft, but she imagined the color
draining from it. Besides Hector, the mayor was the only person in this entire town
who knew their true identities. All these years, he had claimed to be an Aeon
sympathizer. Could he truly have betrayed them?

"Don't worry," the Templar said, lowering his voice slightly. "He didn't want to
give you up. He just valued the lives of his own family more than yours. Can't
blame a man for that, can you?"

"No..." her father mused, "I guess you can't."

"Now let's not waste anymore time, Cole. Where's your daughter?"

Her father didn't say anything for a long moment. And when he did, it was as if he
were assembling his thoughts on the fly. "I'm sorry, but if the mayor also told you
I still have a daughter, he was sadly mistaken. I lost her twelve years ago during
the Purge, along with my wife Lyanna. I'm just an innkeeper now-have been for over
ten years."

"No... I don't think so." The Templar commander shook his head darkly. "If your
daughter were really dead, I wouldn't be standing here in this shit hole of a
town."

"Well that's the truth. Sorry you wasted your time."

The Templar ignored him and turned to face the rest of the inn. "I don't know what
lies this man has told you about himself, but his real name is Aaron Cole. He
bedded an Aeon woman during the war, and now he has a half-Aeon daughter. She's
hiding among you, in
this town. And until she's apprehended, she presents a danger to you all."

The rest of the clientele listened in silence, their expressions ranging from
disbelief to blatant defiance. Of course most of them knew that she was the
innkeeper's daughter-many of them had been coming here ever since her father bought
the inn. The only question was, did the people of Northshire really despise the
Republic as much they claimed to? If they refused to give her up, she and her
father might still get out of this alive.

"If you help us find her, your cooperation will be reworded." The Templar commander
said as he removed a small purse from his belt. "I'm willing to pay ten silver
talents to the first person who can give me information regarding this girl."

There was a short pause, then the youngest miner sprang to his feet. While Nahlia
had never known the boy personally, the betrayal was a dagger twisting inside her.

"Her name is Nahlia Cole," he said. "She works as a barmaid here in the inn."

The Templar stepped away from the counter, toward the boy. "Can you describe her?"

"She's short and slender, with dark red hair and green eyes."

He nodded. "And do you have any idea where she might be right now?"

"She went that way," he gestured toward the kitchen, "just before you all showed
up."

Nahlia took this as her cue to leave. She crept out from her hiding place in the
loft and prepared to make for the second floor window. From there, she could
navigate the rooftops and get to the stables. She had practiced the same route many
times as a child, by now she could

practically do it with her eyes closed.

"Search everything!" she heard the commander barking out orders to his men from the
other side of the inn. "And secure all the exits. No one leaves here until the girl
is found."

Before she could take a single step toward the window, she heard the sound of heavy
boots clanking up the stairs. One of the Templars was already up here with her.

No... this can't be happening.

Nahlia bolted down the hall, her thin barmaid's shoes slipping on the smooth wooden
floor as she ran. When she reached the window, she struggled to unbolt it; her once
dexterous fingers had become clumsy with fear.

"You there! Stop!" one of the Templar lackeys shouted at her from the other end of
the hall. She heard his heavy boots pounding behind her.

Finally, the window opened. She was halfway out when a large, metal-clad hand
closed around her ankle and pulled her back inside. Her head hit the floor hard,
and the world seemed to spin and darken around her.

This is it. She realized. They're going to kill me. She and her father had started
to feel safe-even hopeful that they would be able to live out the rest of her life
here in peace. But she was an Aeon-an enemy of humanity-and the world was filled
with those who wouldn't rest until her head was on a spike.
The Templar lifted her off the floor, holding her by one wrist and a fistful of her
auburn hair.

"Clever girl..." His dark voice echoed from beneath his silver helmet. He smelled
like leather and iron and blood. "So you're an Aeon, are you?"

His curiosity told

her that he had never seen someone like her up close before. Nahlia refused to deny
it. If she was going to die tonight, she wasn't going to die pleading for her life
or pretending to be someone she wasn't.

He pushed her hard against a wall, twisting her hair even harder until she cried
out. "You don't look so dangerous. In fact... I think I could break you like a twig
right now."

Her whole body was shaking, and she found herself unable to look into his pale
eyes-eyes filled with anger and malice. What could have happened to this man to
make him hate her so much? Had Aeons taken his family during the war? Perhaps he
was simply afraid of her and felt the need to overcompensate with threats and
violence. She would never know.

"Then do it," she spoke through a shaky breath. "Tell your children what a hero you
were... how you killed an unarmed girl in the back of an inn because you were
afraid of her."

"Don't try your tricks on me, witch!" . "I would slit your throat and be done with
it now-if I didn't already have orders to bring you back alive."

He grabbed her by the arm and proceeded to drag her back down the stairs into the
common room, as casual as a hunter dragging his kill.

Fight Nahlia. She told herself. Fight back, before it's too late. But she knew it
was hopeless. While other great Aeons were known for their supernatural strength
and their unparalleled skills in battle, Nahlia couldn't even break free from this
man's grasp if she tried. She had never harmed anyone in her life, and now wasn't
the time to start. Not with a fully

armored man who was twice her size.

He suddenly brought his dagger back to her throat, almost as though he could sense
her thoughts. Or perhaps he'd just heard too many stories and expected her to cast
some magical spell on him.

When they reached the common room of the inn, she saw her father and the rest of
the staff kneeling on the floor, their hands bound behind their backs. The rest of
the patrons had been herded into another corner of the room.

When the Templar commander saw her, he turned to look at the young miner who sold
her out. "Is she the one?"

The boy nodded, although he seemed much more reluctant than before.

Good. Nahlia thought. I hope your ten silver talents were worth our lives.

The commander tossed him the purse, just as he'd promised. "The rest of you are
free to go. We're done here."

The Templar who had captured her forced her onto the ground among the others.
Nahlia looked at her father pleadingly, hoping that he would have a plan to save
them, hoping that he would hold her close again and tell her that everything was
going to be okay. But beneath his strong facade, she knew that he was just as
afraid as she was. They were trapped in this nightmare together, and there was no
waking up.

After the inn cleared out, the commander removed his helmet and set it down on top
of the bar. His face was old and clean-shaven. But heavily scarred, like he'd been
burned several times. Unlike the younger Templar who apprehended her, Nahlia knew
that this man had fought and killed many Aeons over the years.

"Nahlia Cole..."

He mused. "You have no idea how hard you were to track down.

Nahlia didn't reply. She simply stared at the floor morosely.

"I have to say though, I'm a little disappointed. You're not nearly as beautiful as
your mother was."

Why is he trying to taunt me? He's already won. What more could he possibly want?

The Templar took several steps closer to her. "Oh yes... she actually went out with
a fight. Not like you-you're going to die a coward, right here on the floor of this
inn."

Finally, Nahlia took the bait. Even if this was a trap-which it surely was-her
hands were still unbound, and she could just reach one of the daggers hidden away
inside her travelers pack. What did she have to lose?

She lunged toward the commander, dagger in hand. But he was too quick for her; he
extended his metal-clad hand and caught her wrist. He squeezed it hard enough to
make her skin bleed.

"Just as I thought... weak." When she finally dropped the dagger, the commander
turned to address his fellow Templars. "You see men, you have nothing to fear from
her kind anymore. They may have been strong once, but not anymore."

He thrust her back several feet and drew his own weapon from its sheath. In that
moment, Hector leaped up from the floor, free off his bindings and with a kitchen
knife in his hand. He charged the Templar commander, using brute force to knock the
armored man off his feet.

For a moment, the other four Templars stood frozen in disbelief at the mute cook's
strength and ferocity. When they finally came to their senses, they pulled him off
their commander and restrained him against the bar.

Hector still fought back, nearly overpowering them both and breaking free. But when
the commander rose to his feet, there was a flash of steel, leaving a thin, red
line across Hector's throat.

"NO!" Nahlia called out in disbelief. The line grew wider and redder as he fell.

Before his body could hit the floor, her father was on his feet as well. "Nahlia!
Run!"

She turned to look at the entrance of the inn and saw that it was unguarded.
Without a second thought, Nahlia sprang to her feet and made for the door.
One of the other Templar's took notice of her and drew his sword. Before he could
stop her, Nahlia's father crashed into him, knocking the armored man into a row of
wooden chairs.

Once again, she heard the sound of steel against flesh, but she didn't turn to see
who it was. She only ran, vanishing into the dark city street without looking back.

=================

3: Time to Run

She ran through the streets of Northshire, her thin shoes slapping against the
rough cobblestones and splashing puddles. Everything became a blur as her lungs
filled with the damp night air.

The Templars did their best to pursue her, but Nahlia had spent the better part of
her life in this city. She knew all the shortcuts-every last back alley and
abandoned structure. She picked the narrowest route she knew of. The Templars were
no match for the young Aeon's swiftness as she glided effortlessly through pipe,
wood, and stone. Once she put a fair amount of distance between her and her enemy,
it only took a few more minutes to lose them entirely.

But what was she supposed to do now? Where was she supposed to go? Of course she
had friends in town, but they only knew her as the innkeeper's daughter, not as the
Aeon fugitive. They would surely turn her away out of fear.

Even if they didn't, Nahlia couldn't bare the thought of putting anyone else in
danger on her behalf, not after what happened to Hector back at the inn. And her
father-what was going to happen to him?

Don't think about that now Nahlia. Just stay focused, before you get yourself
killed too.

Her next instinct was to make for the stables and retrieve her father's horse. She
thought better of this plan too-if her pursuers were really as cunning as everyone
said, they would have already anticipated this move and had someone waiting for
her.

Instead, she cut through an apple orchard on the north edge of town. Beyond that,
there was a ford that she could follow farther north into the Hinterlands-a

vast, and uncharted range of mountains and forests between Northshire and Dreshtae.

Even if they followed her here-which they surely would-she was confident that she
could outrun them in the forest just as she had in the city. Nahlia and her father
had been hunting here for years. The Templars were all but strangers to this
unforgiving land.

She kept up a brisk pace for the first
terrain in front of her as she ran. By
of her body felt cold, empty and sore.
fireplace in the Moonstone Inn-curling
with no one trying to kill her.
three miles, focusing only on the rough
now, her feet were blistered, and the rest
She longed for her favorite seat next to the
up with a good book and a warm cup of tea,

Somehow, she managed to drag herself another three miles through the forest until
she reached Graywind Pass. With the exception of the main road, this was the only
route north to Dreshtae that didn't require travelers to scale an entire mountain.
It was also difficult to find-there was no way the Templars could follow her here
unless they already knew where to look.

In the middle of the pass, there was an abandoned watchtower where Nahlia took
refuge. Despite being hundreds of years old and overtaken by the forest, the old
stone building stood quite tall and proud.

Wearily, Nahlia stumbled inside the ancient structure. A spiral staircase wrapped
its way from the ground all the way to the top floor. Many of the stone stairs were
missing; others were overtaken by centuries of vegetation and chemical weathering.
Still, she forced herself to climb all the way to the top. This place

wasn't guaranteed to keep her safe from the Templars, but at least she would be
safe from the wolves and other forest creatures for one night.

Satisfied that she was alone and safe for the time being, Nahlia removed her
barmaid's dress and shoes. She was eager to be rid of them as neither was of much
use to her at the moment.

She emptied her pack and re-dressed herself in a pair of combat fatigues a simple
brown leather jerkin, and fur-lined boots. Unfortunately, her hair was still a
tangled mess, but there was nothing she could do about that now. For some strange
reason, her past self had the foresight to pack three daggers, but not a single
hairbrush, hair-tie or ribbon.

She wrapped herself in the warm material of her traveler's cloak and curled up on
the stone floor of the tower. Nahlia knew that sleep wouldn't come easy in this
place, but she had to try. Come morning, she would need every ounce of her strength
for the treacherous road ahead of her.

***

Nahlia found herself walking through a warm, tropical landscape on the edge of a
hill. It was morning, and everything glistened with dew in the sunlight.

Far in the east, she could see the sun creeping up over the horizon. It looked so
peaceful-illuminating the surrounding clouds and the ocean waves, painting a
breathtaking image of orange, pink and violet.

A warm, morning breeze stretched out over the landscape and ruffled her auburn
hair. Everything was warm here; not at all like that cold, forsaken place she had
left behind in The Hinterlands.

Wait... The Hinterlands! The watchtower...

I was there only a minute ago.

Bewildered, she began to take a better look at her surroundings. Not only was it
warmer in this place, the plants were of a completely different variety; they were
more vibrant than those in the North, and they all bore colorful fruit. The air was
humid, and there was white sand beneath her feet.

What happened? How did I get here?

"Hello, Nahlia..." She heard a familiar voice speak her name, and she spun around
to face it.

He was a man, only a few years older than her. Tall, and undeniably handsome, with
black hair and brown skin, like someone from the south.

"Sorry about that." He raised his hands in submission. "I didn't mean to startle
you. I know how easy it can be to lose yourself in thought here."

Hearing his voice a second time jogged her memory.

"You-you were at the inn right before the Templars came..."

"That's right." He spoke in the same relaxed manner he did back in Northshire. She
had found his voice intoxicating then, but now it just made her feel uneasy.

"Who are you?" she demanded, taking several steps back and reaching for her dagger.
"And how do you know my name?"

"It's alright. I didn't come here to hurt you. My name is Thane. I'm an Aeon, just
like you."

"I'm not an Aeon." She objected, more out of habit than anything else.

"You can't very well deny it, Nahlia." He gestured around them. "Just look where we
are now."

"Of course..." Nahlia finally understood, and she began to relax her guard. "The
Ethereal..."

"Precisely. And we both know

that humans can't dream."

"So none of this is real then..." She murmured, of course Nahlia had been dreaming
her entire life, the same way all Aeons did. But she usually found herself
wandering through seemingly random portions of the Ethereal, guided only by her
subconscious. This felt different; it felt more focused and controlled.

"It's different when you have a guide," Thane explained, as if he could see her
thoughts reflected on her face. "Someone who's trained their mind through years of
meditation can enter this place at will-even making contact with others if they
wish."

He said this with such nonchalance-as if it were no more complicated than riding a
horse. Perhaps this really was a common practice among her people. Even so, she was
still wary of him.

"If this is a dream... then how do I know that you're real?" She asked.

A small smile escaped his lips, "You truly have lived among humans your entire
life, haven't you?"

She knew that it wasn't really a question.

He took a deep breath and continued, "When the humans tell their stories about us,
they describe us as supernatural beings, possessing incomparable strength and
wielding magical powers."

"I've heard those stories." Nahlia admitted, "Are they not true?"

"There's no simple answer for that. But I will tell you this; the only real
difference between Aeons and humans is our ability to dream. Every great Aeon
throughout history has drawn his or her strength from this very place."

"But you see, humans can't possibly comprehend a world that exists entirely

in our thoughts. They tell themselves that we're born as monsters, simply because
that's all they can imagine. But yes Nahlia, I'm real. Everything here is real."

"So why are you here now-with me?" She finally asked. "What do you want?"

There was a short pause, "I'm here to help you. You, and your father."

"My father!" She exclaimed, "Did you see what happened to him? Is he okay?"

Thane nodded. "He's been arrested by the Templars."

Having already feared the worst, Nahlia actually breathed a sigh of relief. "So
he's alive then?"

"Yes, for now. They've cleared out of Northshire. One battalion is escorting him
back to their northern fortress on the outskirts of Dreshtae. The other group is
pursuing you even as we speak."

This made her feel especially uneasy. If she was dreaming now, that meant that her
body was back at the watchtower in The Hinterlands, completely vulnerable to an
ambush.

"I shouldn't be here," she said, "I need to wake up-to keep moving."

"You're right," he nodded, "we don't have much time."

"Then tell me; what are the Templar's going to do with my father, and how can I
help him?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say they were eventually going to execute him for being an
Aeon sympathizer. But you're the one they want. They won't risk killing him until
they have you in their custody as well."

Nahlia nodded solemnly, and she had to steady herself against a nearby tree for
support. "I can't just abandon him though. He's all I have left."

"And the Templars know that," he said evenly. "They're smart enough to keep your
father

alive, if only to use him to lure you in you into a trap. Attempting to free him on
your own would by folly, you know that."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Just keep running? Hide somewhere, knowing that
he's being kept in some Templar prison?"

"You have to focus on keeping yourself alive right now. If you go storming the
Templar fortress on your own, you might as well have just stayed in Northshire."

Nahlia knew that he had the right of it. And she felt the sudden urge to cry; the
crushing weight of utter helplessness was almost more than she could bear.

"It's alright." He told her softly. "I can help him."

She looked up and gave him a curious glance. "You? But why? You don't even know
him-or me."
"You're right, I don't. But I do know that if I help you, you can return the
favor."

Nahlia didn't reply, she only continued to eye him curiously. Anyone could tell
that Thane was stronger, more competent and more world-wise than she was. What
could she possibly have to offer him?

"There's a secret place here in the north," he continued, "It's called Whitecliff
Academy, and it's a military training facility for Aeon warriors."

"I've never heard of a place like that," she admitted.

"Most people haven't. Not even the Templars."

"And... I thought almost all the other Aeons were killed during the purge?"

"Many of them were killed, and many of us have endured over the years, just like
you have. As things stand, there are two opposing groups of Aeons remaining in this
part of the world. There are those of us who advocate for peace, desiring only to
regain our place in civilization,

and then... there are those of us who lust for power and war."

"And I'm guessing the Aeons of Whitecliff Academy don't want peace."

He nodded. "Whitecliff Academy is ruled by some of the most powerful and ambitious
clans leaders. They long for the days of old, when Aeons ruled over humans instead
of hiding in fear from them. Now they're planning on raising an army and re-taking
Ascalon for themselves, even if that means letting thousands of innocents die in
the process."

Nahlia understood completely. These were the Aeons she'd heard stories of as a
child. They were the very reason her race was feared by the Templars and the rest
of humanity. She also knew that war would only induce that fear further, giving
rise to more pain and suffering on both sides.

"And what does this have to do with me?" she asked. "If I can't even save my father
from the Templars, how can I possibly stop a war before it happens?"

"We don't need you to stop a war. We only need you to do one thing; infiltrate
Whitecliff Academy. If you can do that for us, that should be more than enough."

"But why me?" She asked, "I don't know anything about this place, or even how to
find it."

"It has to be you, because Whitecliff only accepts highborn Aeons into their ranks-
direct decedents of the original twelve clans. You're the only highborn Aeon in the
realm who hasn't already joined their cause and been corrupted by delusions of
power."

He knows who my mother was, she realized.

"As for discovering the academy's location-don't worry, they'll be the ones to seek
you out. In the meantime, you just need worry about making your way north to
Dreshtae."

She swallowed hard, "And if I do this... you'll free my father? You'll help us get
away form the Templars?"
"I will." Thane gave her a solemn nod. "You have my word."

Just then, the surrounding forest grew suddenly dark and cold. She heard the sounds
of men waving torches and barking out orders in the distance.

Nahlia looked around franticly, trying to discern the source. "What's happening?"

"It's the Templars... they've found you."

Even as he spoke, Thane began to fade away into clouds of gray smoke.

"Wake up, Nahlia Cole," he told her. "It's time to run."

=================

4: Graywind Pass

Nahlia's eyes shot open, and she sprang to her feet. She was surrounded by
darkness, shaking and covered in a cold sweat.

Outside the window, she heard the distant shouts of voices, clanking armor, and
barking hounds. Her heart was throbbing in her chest so hard that she felt like it
was going to rip its way out. Above all, Thane's words echoed in her mind.

"Run", he told her.

But where could she go? The tower only had one entrance, and now half a dozen
Templars surrounded it.

"This is it," a voice from outside exclaimed, "the Aeon's trail ends here!"

The voice belonged to Eagan Hawke, one of the oldest and most experienced rangers
in Northshire. He knew the Hinterlands as well as she knew the Moonstone Inn. Had
the Templars bribed him to track her down, the same way they bribed the miners for
information?

No, of course mere bribery wouldn't work on a man like him. Unlike that boy who
ousted her in the inn, the elders of Northshire had principles. They held no love
for the Republic or its golden child: the Templar order. More likely, they had
threatened harm against his family if he didn't cooperate with their demands.

Nahlia didn't blame him; she only blamed herself for not foreseeing something like
this sooner. She had climbed this tower under the assumption that her pursuers
would be unable to follow her this deep into the forest. Now that they had, she was
completely trapped.
While the Templar's began their assent up the tower's spiral staircase and Nahlia
whirled around, frantically searching for another exit. She looked out the
easternmost

window and saw the branch of a willow tree, no more than eight feet away.

There wasn't time to think it over; she would have to jump. Nahlia cast aside her
traveler's sack and her cloak. The young Aeon got a running start and leapt out the
window, flying through the air and just barely managing to grab hold of the thick
tree branch.

She dangled for a long moment, gasping for breath. When she finally looked down,
she saw three crossbowman standing at the base of the tower, along with Eagan Hawke
and his hounds.

Nahlia swung her right leg over the thick branch and pulled herself over with a
little difficulty; much to her disappointment. She then followed the sturdy set of
branches back to the trunk of the tree in a desperate attempt to make it out of the
Templar's line of sight.

"There!" a voice echoed from inside the watchtower. "The Aeon-she's escaping!"

Nahlia quickened her pace, weaving her body through the branches as fast as she
dared. All she had to do was cross the river to the eastern shore. From there it
would take them several hours to catch up with her.

"Open fire!" A deep voice bellowed, and a volley of crossbow bolts flew in her
direction, shredding through layers of leaves and branches as they went.

Nahlia kept her head down, climbing from tree to tree until she reached a single
branch that extended over the river. It was too narrow to walk across, so she
wrapped herself along the bottom and scooted along.

The crossbowmen continued to follow her on foot, but they hadn't fired a shot in
several minutes. Most likely, they just couldn't get find

a good vantage point through the thick foliage that surrounded her

Just a little farther. Nahlia told herself once she was halfway over the river.

A few seconds passed, then metal bolts raced past her once again, one of them
grazed her left forearm and she gritted her teeth. It was too sharp to feel but she
heard the sound of her leather jerkin splitting open. Nahlia bit her lip and forced
herself to keep moving forward even though her arm was numb from the pain.

"Again!" The Templar officer ordered a third volley.

The first bolt whooshed past her neck and was lodged into the tree branch. Nahlia
had hardly realized what had happened until a second bolt pierced an inch below her
heart.

She didn't feel the impact-at least not until she looked down and saw six inches of
metal sticking out of her ribcage. Then she was hit, all at once, with a tidal wave
of pain and nausea.

A large pool of blood began to form and it became increasingly difficult to hang
on. Even the river below seemed to lash out at her; its rapids slapping hard
against the rocks and the fallen trees. In that moment a part of her almost wanted
to give into its demands and let it take her away. It would have been so much
easier.

"No... Don't let go, Nahlia," she whispered to herself. "You can do this. You're an
Aeon-the daughter of Lyanna Cole. You can... you can-"

The pain was too much. When she reached out to grab the next section of branch, her
eyes clouded with tears. Everything became hazy and narrow, as if darkness was
threatening to consume her. She tried to fight

back but its pull was too insistent.

Her grip failed her, and she fell from the tree. Her limp body broke several more
branches on the way down before colliding with the rapids.

Nahlia didn't remember the feeling of the river; she only remembered the cold.

***

When she finally did wake up, it was morning and there was a female voice calling
out to her, although it was faint and distant.

"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?"

Nahlia was blinded by the brilliance of the morning sunlight. She was lying on the
bank of the river while a woman stroked her hair.

"She's alive!" The woman let out a sigh of relief, and others began to gather
around. Nahlia couldn't quite make out her face- just a blurry silhouette of pale
skin and dark hair.

"M-mom?" Nahlia murmured. The inside of her mouth felt raw. It hurt to talk.

"No." The woman shook her head. "I'm Merith. What's your name, dear?"

"I'm... Nahlia." She tried to sit up, but a wave of pain coursed through her body
and sent her falling back into the sand.

"You're going to be alright, Nahlia. Just try and stay still, alright?"

Nahlia nodded. A shivering hand wandered toward the spot where she was shot, and
she cringed at the unfamiliar feeling of metal protruding from her lower ribcage.

Merith turned to face a large man with a thick, red beard. "She's ice cold, and
losing a lot of blood. We need to get her back to camp. Now."

The man nodded, "Aye, I sent the boys to grab a stretcher from the wagon. They
should be back here any second now."

"What... happened?" Nahlia managed

to ask. "Where am I?"

"You were in the river," Merith explained. "My husband found you while he was
fishing and he pulled you to safety."

"The Templars... are they-"

"Shhhh. Try not to speak. You're safe now. I promise."

Nahlia couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, and she found herself slipping into
a dream. However, her fever clouded her mind and prevented her from entering the
Ethereal. Instead, she simply hallucinated-the same way humans were said to dream.

She saw her father. He was chained to a brick wall in a Templar dungeon. The room
was completely dark except for the light of a single candle. The Templar commander
was with them as well; Nahlia could never forget that terrible scared face.

He was interrogating her father for information, but she couldn't make out the
words either of them they were saying. Their voices buzzed in her ears like wasps
muffled in thick woolen felt.

Every time her father replied to one of his questions, the commander hit him hard
with the back of his metal gauntlet, sending splatters of blood in every direction.

The Templars want to know where I am. But he'll never tell them anything. He'll die
first.

Nahlia felt compelled to save him. She tried to move, but the bolt in her ribcage
left her pinned to the opposite wall. It burned her insides hotter than any fire
ever could. She felt weak and nauseated from the pain, unable to move, unable to
speak or cry out.

All she could do was watch helplessly as the same images flashed in her mind over
and over. In her confused and credulous state, Nahlia felt like she was failing him
somehow, that all of this was her fault.

Even when she opened her eyes and tried to force herself back to reality, the dream
didn't subside. Even when she tried to convince herself that it was only a fever
dream it didn't do her any good.

Back in the Ethereal, Thane had told her that her father was being held in a
Templar stronghold. He was there because of her. He had given up everything to
protect her-just as Hector did-and she simply ran away... leaving him to die.

She knew she had to wake up. She had to find her way to Whitecliff Academy before
it was too late.

=================

5: Flesh and Blood

When she awoke, it was morning again, and she finally felt clear headed and cool.
To her immediate relief, the metal bolt in her ribcage was gone, replaced by a
layer of bandages. There were also stitches in her left arm and her forehead.

Nahlia blinked owlishly at the celling. It was a light fabric material, like that
of a small tent, with beams of golden sunlight streaming in through the seams. The
air was around here was cold, but her bed of furs was warm.

When she propped herself up to examine her new surroundings, she saw a strange man
sitting only a few feet from her at the tent's entrance. He had a muscular build,
with thick red hair and a matching beard.

"Good to you finally up." The man said after catching her eye. "You must've been
having one hell of a nightmare, the way you were thrashing about like that."

His demeanor seemed friendly enough, but Nahlia was still suspicious. Getting shot
was enough to do that to anyone. Who are you? She tried to speak, but her throat
was too dry. Instead, she broke into a fit of coughing that made her ribs hurt.

The man picked up a flask from beside her bed and unscrewed the cap. "Here, drink
this. It'll help"

Nahlia drank the water eagerly-she was certain that nothing else had ever tasted so
good. The flask was empty in a matter of seconds. Even then, she wished there was
more.

"Thank you, sir." She finally said after taking a few deep breaths to steady
herself.

"It's Argus," he replied, "And you're welcome. But you should really save your
thanks for me wife, she spent nearly all day yesterday cleaning

your wounds and stitching you back up."

"Oh no..." Nahlia murmured under her breath, and she shifted in her bed with
blatant uneasiness.

"You all right, miss?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, "I just didn't realize I slept for so long..."

"Aye, Merith gave you some fade root for the pain while she stitched you up.
Might've had something to do with it."

Nahlia recognized the root as an anesthetic, known to grow in cold climates such as
this one. That, combined with her fever would have been more than enough to put her
out for a day and a half. However, she was more concerned about the Templars now,
and the fact that they had so long to catch up with her.

Argus must have seen the fear in her eyes. "Look-it's Nahlia, right? I don't know
who was trying to hurt you before... but you're safe now. We have over thirty good
men in this here caravan; many of them-me self included-are trained soldiers. We'll
keep you safe, I promise you that."

Even if I'm an Aeon fugitive? Nahlia thought. Thankfully, her wits had begun to
return to her, and she kept the question to herself.

Now that she had given it more thought, there was always the off-chance that the
Templar's might abandon their search and declare her dead. After all, she had taken
a crossbow bolt near her heart and fallen unconsciously into a violent river. If
anything, they should be searching for a body.

"Alright." Nahlia forced out a tiny smile.

"Alright," Argus echoed, "I'm going to go find me wife then. She'll be happy to
hear that you're alive and well."

After he disappeared through the tent flap,

she took the time to adjust to her strange new surroundings. She couldn't see much.
but she still heard the camp bustling with life all around her. The smell of
cooking meat filled her nostrils, making her stomach growl and her mouth water. She
also heard dozens of men and women talking, and children at play. That wasn't a
good sign-more people meant more chances of attracting the Templar's attention. She
didn't survive two crossbow bolts and a ride down the river just to be killed in
her bed.

A few minutes later, Merith entered the tent carrying a tray of food. Nahlia sat up
in her bed and the older woman set down a loaf of warm bread, a turkey breast and a
flask of spiced wine.

"Thank you so much." Nahlia said amiably as she eyed the small feast in front of
her.

"Eat up." Merith prodded her on, "You need to get your strength back up after all
the blood you lost yesterday."

"Of course," Nahlia nodded in agreement as she proceeded to eat. "I wouldn't want
to impose on your camp any more than I already have."

"It's no imposition, Nahlia. You're certainly in no condition to go setting off on

your own right now." Merith told her matter-of-factly. "I did what I could for you
here, but we need to get you to a proper doctor as soon as we can. Northshire is
only a day's ride from here. I'm sure we can-"

"No." Nahlia interjected, "I can't go to Northshire, it's not safe there."

When the older woman gave her a sympathetic glance, she realized just how scared
and pathetic she must have sounded. "I mean... I just need to get north-to
Dreshtae."

Merith

sighed, "You're from Northshire, aren't you dear?"

Nahlia bit her lip and nodded.

"Alright... I understand that you're scared. And that's okay, you were just shot
after all..."

In a way, Merith seemed to understand her. However, she could never truly
understand the extent of her predicament. Nahlia couldn't share any of it with her
either. If they knew she was actually an Aeon who was evading an entire legion of
Templars-she didn't want to imagine what might happen. She had seen too many people
bend to the Templar's iron will.

"I didn't want to bring this up too soon," Merith went on, "but if you told tell us
how this happened to you, we might be able to help."

I was in Graywind Pass, when a hunter shot me and I fell into the river,

Nahlia might've said. Although she knew it was far too late to play this off as a
mere accident. Merith and her husband both knew that she was running from
something, and that she feared for her life. Besides, she hated the idea of lying
to them after they had shown her nothing but kindness.

Nahlia shook her head, "I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I can't
stay here any longer. I'm only putting you and your family in danger."

Merith's sympathetic expression turned to one of utter confusion. "I'm sorry, I

don't understand. Are you trouble with the law or something? The constable back in
Northshire?"

"Not exactly..."

"That what is it? You can tell me-I only want to help you."

Her reply was lost as they were interrupted by the rough galloping of horses
outside the tent. Their intrusion caused

quite a bit of commotion with the rest of the caravan.

"Stay here." Merith told her, "I'll go see what's going on."

When she opened the tent flap, Nahlia caught a glimpse sunlight reflecting off of
silver armor and she began to panic.

"It's the Templars." Nahlia said, and she immediately tried to stand up, as if to
run. When she did, the pain in her ribs forced her back to the ground. She had to
clench her teeth hard to keep from screaming.

Merith was at her side in an instant. "Nahlia! Don't move too fast-your stitches
are still fresh."

"Right... okay." She nodded, trying to appear calm and collected.

"You're gonna be alright." Merith assured her. "Just try and stay calm."

"No I'm not," she shook her head urgently, "I'm the one they're here for.."

There was a short pause, "You're an Aeon, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry," she pleaded, "I didn't mean to keep it a secret. I was going to leave
as soon as possible."

"No, it's alright. You didn't do anything wrong."

As the intruders made their way into the camp, Merith stood up to look outside.
Nahlia leaned over to peak out as well. There was only one Templar, masked, and
mounted on a white horse. Behind him were three or four soldiers who were likely
under his command. They were mounted as well, but their forms were far less
imposing.

Merith's husband stood up from one of the campfires and approached the group of
riders. Some of the other men moved to follow him.

"You in charge here?" The Templar demanded.

"Aye," Argus nodded, "suppose I am."

"We're hunting an Aeon fugitive, "the

officer said as he dismounted his horse, "she was last seen in the river, ten miles
upstream"

Argus nodded thoughtfully, fingering his tangled red beard. "Well, my group here
set out from Dreshtae three days ago. We haven't passed anyone else on the road
since then-Aeon or human."

The men behind him seemed to be nodding and murmuring words of agreement.

When he said this, Nahlia breathed a sigh of relief. They must have known that she
was the one the Templar's were hunting; yet they still refused to give her up.

"Is that so?" The Templar's voice became dangerously quiet.

"Aye."

"Well... it just so happens that we found blood down by the river, half-a-mile
west. There's a trail from there to your camp. Do you know anything about that?"

Argus gave a careless shrug, "Can't say I do, but it was probably one of my men.
People are always getting hurt around here."

The Templar officer removed his helmet and took a better look around the camp. He
gave special attention to the closed tents and other potential hiding spots. Nahlia
moved away from the entrance when his eyes wandered over to her tent.

"I'm sure you're telling the truth," he told Argus. "But the fugitive may still be
hiding among you without your knowledge. Perhaps if we took a look around-"

"That wont be necessary," Argus interjected, "we can defend ourselves just fine
here." He fingered one of the blades at his belt to make his point. By now, a
better part of the caravan had gathered around to listen to their conversation.
Some of the men were reaching for their own weapons as well.

Nahlia

swallowed hard as she watched them from inside the tent. It was clear now that
Argus and his men were itching for a fight, but this wasn't a battle they could
win. Even if they managed to overwhelm these five soldiers, the Templars would only
send more in greater numbers. She knew that would only end with countless more
innocents dying.

After already witnessing Hector killed and her father captured, Nahlia wasn't
willing to let anyone else suffer for her.

"I'm afraid I need to insist." The Templar officer gripped his own sword as well.
The solders behind him did the same

"So do I." Argus replied, and a dozen blades were drawn all at once throughout the
caravan. The women and children backed away, retreating into their tents.

For a moment, Nahlia thought she saw fear in the Templar's eyes. Just turn around
and leave... please turn around.

The Templar covered his fear with amusement. "You really willing to die for an
Aeon, old man?"

"Ascalon has no authority here in the north," Argus snapped. "so why don't get back
on your pretty horse and make your way back there?"
Nahlia used the support of the tent to pull herself to her feet. This had gone on
long enough; at least if she turned herself in now, innocent lives could be spared.

"What are you doing?" Merith whispered urgently.

Standing up made her feel empty and lightheaded, but Nahlia didn't let that stop
her. "I have to stop this," she said with us much conviction as she could manage,
"I can't anyone else die for me."

"Nahlia, don't. My husband is handling this."

"It won't

make a difference," she told her, "you haven't seen the lengths the Templars will
go to get what they want I have. And I wont let you put herself and your family at
risk on my account."

With some reluctance, Merith finally nodded in understanding. "If things were
different, I mean-if there weren't children here..."

"I know," Nahlia said, "Thank you for everything."

Merith offered Nahlia her hand for support. "I'll go with you."

No one even noticed when she stumbled out of the tent by Merith's side. The
Templars and the members of the caravan were too occupied with each other to care.

"This is your last chance." The officer told Argus and his men. His sword was
drawn, and he had taken a fighting stance.

"Stop!" Nahlia called out before either man had a chance to strike.

Silence filled the camp as everyone turned to stare at her. She must have appeared
quite pathetic with her torn clothing and exposed bandages. Even her face was
covered with scratches and bruises.

"I'm the Aeon you're looking for," she told them. Her revelation was followed by
gasps, both from the Templar soldiers and members of the caravan. Although everyone
must have known by now, seeing her was another matter entirely.

"Surprised?" She struggled to speak, "expecting a monster? I'm flesh and blood,
just like you. And like you, all I want is peace. I don't want to hurt anyone."

The Templar's face softened at the sight of her. His gaze didn't have the same
malice as the ones in the Moonstone Inn. "I believe you," he finally said, "but we
have orders."

"You could tell them you never found me." Nahlia suggested when she saw their
hesitation. She didn't expect the Templar to show her mercy, but she had to try.

"I'm sorry," he shook his head, "we don't have a choice."

Nahlia felt the other members of the camp avoiding her now, pointedly not looking
in her direction. Her strength finally left her, and she fell to her knees. When
the Templar's stepped forward to take her into custody, no one moved to stop them.

I'm sorry, father. I tried...

=================

6: The Seeker of Whitecliff

An icy wind blew through the camp, causing flurries
attack them like flying daggers. It brought with it
chill that made the rest of the world feel slow and
moment to end-she was convinced that waiting to die
itself.
of snow to swirl around and
a painful chill, the kind of
heavy. Nahlia just wanted this
had to be far worse than death

As the Templar officer approached her, she lowered her head and allowed her eyelids
to close, bracing herself for whatever terrible fate awaited her next.

A few heartbeats passed, and the only sound she heard was the man's heavy footsteps
in the snow. The silence was broken by the clanking of metal against metal,
followed by sharp shrieks of pain.

Her eyes shot open just in time to witness a steel blade emerge from the officer's
throat. Someone had stabbed him from behind, yet it wasn't a member of the caravan-
they were all just as surprised as she was.

The blade slid back the way it came, and the limp body collapsed into a thin
blanket of snow. The young Aeon looked up to see his killer. It was one of the
Templar's own soldiers, clutching a blood stained short sword in his right hand.
Behind him lay his three slain comrades with splatters of blood on their once
perfect armor.

Nahlia struggled to her feet once again and studied the soldier. Beneath those
layers of mail and plate armor, she felt the presence of another Aeon. His mind was
a lit beacon of intense thought and emotion; it felt as alive and vibrant as the
Ethereal itself.

Thane? That was her first guess, but only because he was the only living

Aeon she knew. This figure couldn't have been him though; he was too short and
slender.

Argus moved to stand between the soldier and the two women. "And just who the hell
do you think you are?" He exclaimed, although by now his tone had become more
suspicious than hostile.

The masked figure knelt over his victim and cleaned his blade on the fallen
Templar's white cloak. He didn't seem the least bit concerned that everyone was
still staring at him, weapons drawn. After sheathing his short sword, the soldier
finally went to remove his helmet. A long braid of golden blonde hair was set free,
and they saw not a man's face beneath the mask, but a woman's. She had high
cheekbones and eyes as green as emerald stones.

"Cassandra Raider," she answered in a rich, western accent, "Seeker of Whitecliff."

"Raider?" Nahlia was quick to recognize the name. Members of Clan Raider were
direct decedents of Raiden, one of the seven Archaeons. It was also one of the most
prominent clans during the reign of the Antarian Empire. "So you survived the
purge?"

She nodded. "My family and I fled the capital right before the humans of Ascalon
rebelled. Not all of us clung to the Old Empire the way Clan Antares did. But there
will be plenty of time to discuss such things once we're safe." She took several
steps toward the younger Aeon. "Am I correct in assuming that you're Nahlia Cole?"

"Yes," she nodded slowly. Before Nahlia had the chance to ask how she knew her
name, the other Aeon was already explaining herself.

"My agents in Northshire told me what happened two nights ago. I set out

from Dreshtae as soon as I heard. I'm here to take you back there. We have a safe
house where we can-"

"Hold on," Argus interrupted, and he raised his sword between them. "Does 'Seeker
of Whitecliff' mean anything to you, Nahlia?"

Don't worry about finding the Aeons of Whitecliff. That was what Thane told her
when they met in the Ethereal. They'll be the ones to seek you out.

Nahlia gave him a slight nod. "It's okay. She's one of my kind."

"It's true. And even as we speak, the Templars in this forest out number us fifty-
to-one." The Seeker touched her boot to the fallen officer's head, and Nahlia
averted her eyes when she saw just how red the snow around it had become.

"It wont be long until this one's friends come looking for him," she continued. "We
don't have much time, Nahlia. If you want to survive, you need to come with me."

"She was just shot!" Merith spoke up, "and Dreshtae is over a hundred miles form
here. She's in no condition to ride that far!"

"We're not riding," Cassandra said matter-of-factly. "At least not the entire way.
The Arda flows only a few miles east of here. I have a boat there that will take us
as far north as we need to go. The Templars aren't equipped to follow us by way of
the river. We'll be safe there, I can assure you of that."

While the others were still suspicious of Lady Raider, Nahlia had all the
information she needed to make a decision. She stepped around Argus and took a deep
breath, "I'm going with her."

They were speechless again, the same way they'd been when she surrendered herself
to the Templars. No one
in the caravan knew what was going on. To be honest, neither did Nahlia. But her
instincts had gotten her this far. And right now, they told her that going with
Cassandra Raider was her best chance of survival. After all, Thane told her that
something like this might happen, and he was her best chance of saving her father.

Cassandra began preparing two of the Templar's warhorses for them while Nahlia said
goodbye to Argus and Merith, thanking them for everything.

"And what of the bodies?" one of Argus's men chimed in, gesturing toward the dead
Templar and his soldiers. "When the other Templar's see them-"

"You'll tell them the truth," Cassandra interjected as she mounted one of the white
destriers. "You'll tell them you saw a mysterious Aeon woman slay the Templars and
ride off with the fugitive. Cooperate with them this time; tell them everything
they want to know and they'll have no choice but to believe you."

As Lady Raider spoke, Nahlia mounted her own horse, somewhat awkwardly due to the
fresh stitches in her side. She nearly lost her balance for a moment, causing the
horse to dance slightly to the right. Thankfully, this stallion was bred for war
and he was used to far worse conditions than a wounded rider.

"Alright, take it slow now," she whispered, twitching the reins to follow the older
Aeon into the woods. Even the lightest of trots pulled at her stitches, but Nahlia
simply clenched her teeth and told herself that it would all be worth it once she
reached safety.

"It took courage to reveal yourself to the Templars like that," Cassandra

said once they reached the cover of the trees. "Especially when you could have just
as easily let others fight your battles for you."

Nahlia shrugged, "to be honest, I'm surprised they were so willing."

"I wasn't surprised. After all, they were men of Dreshtae; it's not unusual for
people born so far from the Republic to be more sympathetic to our kind. Why do you
think so many Aeons came this way during the purge?"

"If only the same could be said for Northshire," Nahlia mused. "If they hadn't
given me up, my father and I might still be together-somewhere safe...."

She shook her head, "it wouldn't have made a difference. Trust me, I've spent the
last twenty years serving as a Seeker-finding lost Aeons before the Templars got to
them first. And in all that time, I've never once seen them give up on a target...
unless they were forced to."

Nahlia nodded thoughtfully as she recalled how efficiently the Seeker had dealt
with those Templars back in the camp. Every single one of them had died before they
could realize what was happening. Although the sight of them dying like that
revolted her, a part of her wished that she could defend herself that way too. She
imagined being able to fight her own battles, instead of being limited to running,
hiding or yielding.

Nahlia had so many more questions she wanted to ask, but the cold had left her
mouth feeling numb and dry. They rode in silence for another twenty minutes before
they finally reached the Arda-the largest and most extensive river network in this
part of the world. It was said to flow from the Sunrise Sea in the East, ending in
a large delta with three mouths that emptied into the Frozen Sea in the far North.

Lady Raider's vessel was waiting for them on the shore. It was a single-masted pole
boat with a shallow hull. Nahlia didn't know boats the way she knew horses, but she
figured this would be more than enough to get them down the river in a timely
fashion.

"Lady Raider." A middle-aged man stood at attention as they boarded the vessel. His
leather jerkin was dyed a deep crimson with golden trim, the colors of Clan Raider.

"Captain," she gave him a quick nod. "Prepare for immediate departure. We need to
be in Dreshtae by tomorrow morning."

The captain immediately began barking out orders to the rest of his crew. Sails
were raised, anchors were reeled in, and a dozen crewmembers moved to man the oars.
In a matter of minutes, the boat broke away from the shore and they began their
journey north to Dreshtae.

A/N: Sorry there isn't a huge cliffhanger this time, but the chapter was
approaching 3k words, (and I wanted to keep my promise of updating this weekend) so
I decided to cut it in half.

Be sure to comment and vote! The next chapter should be up later this week.
=================

7: Existence

Nahlia spent the trip eating fine food and dosing in her soft bed below deck. She
took a bath, tended to her various wounds, and felt genuinely thankful not to be
looking over her shoulder for the Templars any longer.

As the Arda took them farther north, its grassy shores rose up and became lines of
stony ridges. The western slopes were covered with soldier pines and black spruce.
In the East, she caught the faintest glimpse of snow-capped mountains glowing white
against a cloudless night sky.

By now, most of the crewman had turned in for the night. The only ones remaining on
deck were the captain at the helm, and his two sons who manned the tiller and the
starboard pole. They sailed through the darkness with such precision; Nahlia
guessed that they had taken this exact route at least a hundred times before.

She found Lady Raider pacing the deck, rings of mail clinking beneath her crimson
cloak. Even aboard the safety of the ship, her right hand still rested on the hilt
of her sheathed sword.

"Nahlia," she smiled when she saw the younger Aeon step into the light of the
brazier. "You're looking well rested."

A small smile escaped her lips. "Thank you. I feel much better now."

"So what can I do for you?"

She took a deep breath. "I've been so busy running from the Templars these past few
days; I never stopped to ask myself why they were coming after me in the first
place. I was hoping that you could help me with that."

Cassandra sat down on a wooden stool in front of the brazier; she gestured for
Nahlia to do the same. "I trust that by now you're already quite familiar

with the Templar Order."

It was more of statement than a question, but Nahlia answered anyway. "We are the
swords and shields of humanity. We promote peace and prosperity throughout the
Republic, defending our lands from any magical threats, foreign or domestic."

Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she recited the order's words as well as any
Republic citizen might. "I know they hunt and kill Aeons; this isn't the first time
my father and I were forced to run from them. But I've never seen them to go such
great lengths before. Something is different now, isn't it?"

The Seeker reached for a nearby bottle of wine, pouring them each a glass. The
pale-yellow liquid sparkled in the light of the fire. "You're right about one
thing; something is different now. But it doesn't necessarily have anything to do
with you."

Nahlia accepted the glass and took a long drink. "If that's true then why are there
fifty Templars in this forest looking for me?"

She let out a small sigh. "The truth is, the Templars have been aware of your
location for some time now, as have I. But until now, they've never had a reason to
come after you."
"Until now?"

"Tensions are unusually high between the Republic and Clan Spectre right now," she
replied. "Not only did Lord Spectre and his family survive the purge twenty years
ago, he maintained the loyalty of his entire army-an army that rivals the Templar
Order in strength and numbers.

Nahlia listened to the Seeker intently. Like the Raiders, Clan Spectre was one of
the original Aeon clans. Although she knew little of

them, aside from the fact that their fortress was in the South, surrounded by vast
deserts and isolated from the rest of the Republic.

"There hasn't been any direct conflict yet," she continued, "but he's been growing
bolder in the recent years. It's only a matter of time until one side strikes."

"And because Lord Spectre is an Aeon, the people of the Republic expect the
Templars to solve the problem for them." Nahlia offered.

"Exactly. The Templars need a victory against us. And since they're no match for
Lord Spectre's armies, they're turning their attention to Whitecliff Academy
instead."

"Whitecliff Academy?" Thane mentioned that the academy was a secret, so Nahlia
arranged her face into what she hoped was a puzzled expression.

"It's a sanctuary here in the North. One of the last places in the world where
young Aeons can study and train without fear of humanity or the Templars coming
after them."

She nodded. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"Since Whitecliff's location is such a well-kept secret, the Templar's only chance
of finding it is to draw us out. That's why they went after you in Northshire."

Nahlia became uncomfortably aware of the pain in her ribs. "So... this whole time,
they were just using me to get to you and the other Aeons of Whitecliff?"

"That's one possibility," she said. "But there's another: if the Templar's caught
you, it's possible that they meant to use you as a spy to infiltrate Whitecliff on
their behalf. It wouldn't be the first time something like that happened."

At the mere mention

of infiltrating Whitecliff, Nahlia averted her eyes, and her stomach twisted into a
knot. She couldn't even manage a reply.

Thankfully, the Seeker of Whitecliff was staring into the brazier and didn't notice
her uneasiness. "Whatever their intentions, it doesn't matter anymore. You're here
now, and you're safe. That's all that matters."

She looked up again. "I'm sorry, I never even thanked you for saving me back there
in the Hinterlands-for putting yourself at risk..."

"There was no need," Cassandra put up a hand dismissively. "Finding people is my

job. It's not your fault that the Templars came after you."

"How do you do it?" she asked. "I mean-how did you know to come and find me when
you did?"

"I run one of most well-informed spy networks in all the Realm, with agents
stationed in every major city. Whenever information surfaces regarding our fellow
Aeons, my agents inform me at once.

"At once?" Nahlia didn't even try to hide her confusion. The most effective method
she knew for delivering information was by messenger. But that could take days-even
weeks depending on the distance between cities.

"You tell me," she said with an easy smile "What advantage do Aeons have over
humans with regard to communication?"

There was only one possible answer, the one thing that differentiated Aeons from
humans. "The Ethereal."

"Exactly. We can communicate through dreams. And that's how I knew to leave
Dreshtae and come after you."

This still made little sense to her. "If communication through dreams is so easy,
then how come you didn't talk to me inside

the Ethereal?" It might've made it easier for us to find each other."

For the first time since Nahlia met her, Lady Raider actually seemed taken aback.
"I never said it was easy-quite the opposite in fact."

"Oh. Then how do you and your agents do it?"

"I need to spend several weeks training with my agents before we're able to form
that sort of mental connection. Even then, communication requires two willing
participants. Finding and communicating with a stranger is next to impossible."

Nahlia nodded slowly. The more she heard, the more she began to doubt herself and
her encounter with Thane. "But... surely some Aeons must stumble upon each other
while they're dreaming... right?"

"I understand that you haven't spent a lot of time with other Aeons. But tell me
Nahlia... in all the years you've been dreaming, have you ever once encountered a
stranger?"

Nahlia opened her mouth and then closed it. Her eyes flickered to the orange flame
in front of them.

"The Ethereal is a vast, and sometimes abstract place," she went on. "Trust me, if
I could communicate with just anyone, my job would be infinitely easier. If you
thought you ran into another Aeon while you were dreaming, he or she could just as
easily have been conjured by your subconscious."

"You mean like a hallucination?"

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose. You have to understand, the Ethereal is made
entirely of thought energy-the same energy that runs through our brains and flows
out through the physical world." She made a wide gesture around them. "It's only
when we dream or meditate that we're able experience these thoughts in their
entirety. By then, a hallucination is as real as anything else in the Ethereal."

Nahlia finally understood. When Thane talked about the Ethereal, he made it sound
so powerful and mysterious. But perhaps Thane himself was only a dream-a memory of
the young scholar she saw in the Moonstone Inn. Perhaps he had only promised to
help save her father because that's what she wanted to hear.

"I see..." Nahlia finally said as she finished the last of her wine. When she first
met Thane in the Ethereal, his intentions had seemed questionable.

Now his very existence seemed questionable.

=================

8: Dreshtae

A north wind blew through her tangled hair, it smelled like salt and smoke and
stone. Nahlia heard the cackling of seabirds overhead and she knew that Dreshtae
must be close.

The captain barked out orders to his crew as they scrabbled up and down the mast,
reefing the heavy crimson sails to catch the wind. She felt the deck tilt beneath
her as the Arda carried them around a rough bend into the Frozen Sea.

It had been three days since she last saw Thane in the Ethereal. Now-even more so
than last night-she was convinced that he'd been nothing more than a figment of her
imagination. And if that were true, she had lost all sense of purpose in this
place. She'd traveled north to evade the Templars, but that didn't bring her any
closer to saving her father. Now it seemed like nothing would.

"Nahlia, look!" The captain's son pointed east toward the rising sun. "There it
is!"

A thick layer of mist gave way before them, smooth gray curtains parted by their
prow. That was when she finally saw Dreshtae's skyline. At first, it was only a
silhouette of dark, geometric shapes against the pale dawn. But as they drew closer
to the city proper, she saw a vast sprawl of individual buildings, towers, and
bridges all cramped together between the mountains and the sea.

In the center of the city stood a great cathedral, easily distinguishable by its
dual spires that towered over the rest of the skyline. Nahlia had seen paintings of
such structures before, although she'd never seen one in-person. It was common
knowledge that the Templars had burned every one of the

Aeon's religious structures within a thousand miles of Ascalon during the purge.
Even the one in Northshire was just a pile of rubble now.

To her right-at least a mile off shore-she saw a dark fortress looming atop an
island of gray stone. There was something about this particular place that struck
her as more ominous than the rest of Dreshtae.

"Ah yes, Kyvoth..." Lady Raider murmured as she joined the younger Aeon at the
front of the ship. "It was once a military blockade you know-built to keep out the
invading clans during the first Centurion Wars..."

Nahlia turned to look at her, certain that there was more to the story than that.
"And what is it now?"

"It's been abandoned for years," she told her. "That is, until a few months ago
when the Templars claimed the island as their northern base of operations."
Of course they did, Nahlia thought. A city free of Templars would have been far too
much to hope for. Three days ago, she would have been shocked to hear of a Templar
base this far north. Now she had almost come to expect it. And this was no small
fortress either. For all she knew, there could have been hundreds of them hiding
behind those stonewalls.

"Dreshtae allows this?" Nahlia's voice out came soft against the roar of the wind.
"I thought you said they didn't cooperate with the Templars here?"

"They don't." She said sharply. "You'll notice that they're positioned outside the
city's borders. Remember, there's a world of difference between noncooperation and
outright hostility."

Nahlia nodded, and she took one last look at the

island before the surrounding mists swallowed it. She wondered if this was the same
fortress that Thane spoke of in the Ethereal-the place where the Templar's were
keeping her father prisoner.

It wasn't that she considered Thane's information to be reliable, although he had

been right about Whitecliff's existence. Perhaps a small part of her still clung to
the hope that Thane was real as well-that he had somehow defied the laws of the
Ethereal to find her.

"Don't worry..." Cassandra assured her, "I guaranteed your safety here in Dreshtae
and that promise still holds true. I believe you've already seen what happens to
Templars who overstep their bounds here in the North."

She nodded again. Of course If Thane was right, that meant that Dreshtae was only
the mid-point of their journey anyway. Perhaps it was time to test that theory.

"We're not staying in Dreshtae for long though, are we?" She asked pointedly.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"When we first met, you called yourself 'Seeker of Whitecliff', not 'Seeker of
Dreshtae.'"

She smiled thoughtfully at this. "It's true, I bring many of the Aeons I find to
Whitecliff. Not only to supply the academy with new students, but also because many
of them have lost their families to the Templars and have nowhere else to go. And
Whitecliff Academy is one of the safest places in the world for our kind."

Do I have nowhere else to go? Nahlia wondered. What about my father? I haven't lost
him yet, have I? Although she had to admit it was strange, the two of them had been
traveling

together for almost two days and the older Aeon hadn't spoken a word of him.

"But we'll talk more of Whitecliff later." Cassandra said, gesturing toward the
shore. "We're here."

The deck creaked behind her as she stepped off the ship and followed Lady Raider
through the harbor. They climbed several flights of stone stairs, finally stopping
at what must've been the largest house Nahlia had ever seen.

While it was only two stories high, the house was at least three times wider than
the Moonstone Inn, or any of the other buildings back in Northshire The exterior
was made of light stone, its facade heavily ornamented with bronze pillars and
trim.

The inside was no less spectacular. The floors and pillars were made of solid
marble, covered in crimson carpets and tapestries. The hallways had thin, long
mirrors hanging on both sides, making them appear even more enormous than they
already were.

Nahlia couldn't help but feel out of place here, especially when she glimpsed her
reflection in one of the mirrors. With her tousled hair, ripped clothing, and
bruised face, she might as well have been a peasant girl who had snuck into a
palace.

The servants obviously agreed with her. After Lady Raider showed her to her
bedchamber, two girls who were roughly her age showed up with buckets of hot water.
They spent a great deal of time bathing her, brushing her hair, and going through
the various wardrobes to find something more suitable for her to wear to dinner
that evening.

One of the girls held up a gown for inspection. "Try this one, milady. It even
matches your necklace."

Nahlia

picked up her mother's old necklace from the nightstand and saw that the girl was
right. The blue fabric of the dress was a perfect match for the sapphire. Even the
embroidery seemed like an extension of the silver chain it hung on.

"It's perfect," Nahlia smiled. "Thank you."

***

She found Lady Raider in the dining room several hours later, although she hardly
recognized the other Aeon without her armor. Instead, she wore an elaborate crimson
dress with long skirts, a tight waist and matching crimson gloves that rose all the
way to her elbows.

"Ah, there you are Nahlia," she took her by the hand and led her through a large
crowd of people to the other side of the room. "I'd like you to meet my husband:
Lindilus Raider, Magister of Dreshtae."

He was a tall man, dressed in fine, dark leathers with neatly trimmed hair, bright
as beaten gold.

"My Lord," Nahlia smiled, and managed her best curtsy. Although truth be told, she
had no idea what the proper greeting was for a city magister, or for the lord of a
great Aeon clan for that matter.

"Lady Cole," he responded with a polite bow, his voice was deeper and more solemn
than she'd expected. "Welcome to Dreshtae. It's an honor to have you here."

When they sat down, Lord and Lady Raider introduced her to several other important
people from the city. Despite finally looking the part of a highborn Aeon, Nahlia
still felt awkward through most of dinner. The conversation topics ranged from
political tension in the west, to things as mundane as tariffs in Ascalon to mining
operations here in the North. As a barmaid

from Northshire, she had little to contribute on any of these topics. Instead, she
remained quiet and did her best to listen intently.
"That necklace..." Lord Raider said, leaning over from his place at the head of the
table. "It once belonged to your mother, didn't it?

Nahlia smiled and gave a slight nod. "It's the only thing I have left of her."

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said. "It's a terrible thing what happened to her."

"Did you know her well?"

"Not as well as I would have liked, but I did meet her several times in Ascalon as
a boy."

"You've been to the capital then?" Nahlia asked, genuinely surprised

"Oh yes," he replied. "In those days it seemed like the Emperor called his subjects
to court practically every other week. There was always some grand new event at the
Imperial Palace for us to attend I always complained about them as a boy-told
everyone I would be rather be out fighting the Emperor's enemies than dancing in
his ballrooms. But now..." He held up a metal hand that Nahlia hadn't noticed
before. "Well-you've seen what war makes of us..."

"Things must have been so much different back then," she mused as she brought her
wineglass to her lips. "I can't even imagine what it would be like to have our own
kind ruling the Realm."

"In many ways it was different, and in many ways it was the same. Things weren't
all peaceful under the Antarian's rule either you know. If they were, the humans
might not have rebelled in the first place..."

Dinner went on for several more hours. By now, all of the other city officials had
returned

home. Even the servants had retired for the evening, leaving only Nahlia and the
Raiders sitting in the solar.

"Have you given any thought to our earlier conversation?" Cassandra asked.

She nodded, rubbing absent-mindedly at one of her bruises. "You want to send me to
Whitecliff, don't you?"

"Of course you're welcome to stay here for as long as you'd like." Lindilus
offered, clearly choosing his words carefully. "But it's only a matter of time
before the Templars realize you're here. And when that happens, we don't have the
resources to protect you. Whitecliff is a sanctuary; somewhere where they can't
follow you."

Nahlia couldn't help but wonder what would happen to father if she left him behind.
If Thane was only a figment of her subconscious, she couldn't rely on him for help.
But maybe the Raiders could help her; they seemed like caring and capable people.

She took a deep breath, "Before I make any commitments... There's something I need
to ask you."

Lord Raider leaned forward form his chair as if to listen more intently.

"My father-is he being held in Kyvoth?" It was the first time she spoke of her
father since she came here; she didn't know how they might react.
To her surprise, Lord Raider didn't miss a beat. "Yes. Knight-Commander Saul was
seen bringing a prisoner into Kyvoth two days ago. We have reason to believe that
it was Aaron Cole."

Her eyes flickered to Cassandra; her face was devoid of expression. She turned back
to Lindilus. "Well... is anything being done to help him?"

He sighed, almost as if he'd been expecting this. "Nahlia,

you have to understand-short of starting a full-scale war between Dreshtae and the
Templars, there's nothing I can do for your father."

"I don't understand... There must be something you can do. What about negotiating
with them?"

He shook his head. "The Templars don't negotiate with local city magisters-they
don't need to. They're used to traveling the realm with limitless power, answering
only to their superior officers in Ascalon."

When Lindilus wouldn't help her, she turned to Cassandra instead. At least she was
a person of action. "Maybe you could send some of your agents into Kyvoth then? The
way you saved me back in the Hinterland?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for your father either."

"Please," she pleaded to them both, "I already lost my mother to the Templars. He's
all I have left now, and I'm not going to Whitecliff without him."

"I understand that, Nahlia, and if I could help your father, I would. But don't
mistake what I do for a military operation. My agents are volunteers; I send them
on a mission they don't believe in."

She felt herself prickling with irritation now. "And why wouldn't they? Is it
because he's a human?"

"No, I'm afraid it goes far beyond that."

"Then why?" She demanded. "My father risked his life for the Aeons when he fought
with them during the purge! I don't see why they can't do the same thing for him
now."

"Your father risked his life for the Aeons at the end of the war," Lindilus said
pointedly. "But that doesn't erase the years of damage he did before that."

Nahlia grimaced, "I don't know what rumors you've heard about my father, but he's
always been an Aeon supporter. I think I would know if he wasn't."

Lindilus paused and turned to look at his wife. When he did, she let out a long,
exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry Nahlia... I thought you knew."

Her hands started to shake. "Thought I knew what?"

"Your father..." she paused, as if trying to find the right words. "He used to be a
lieutenant in the Templar Order. It was only after he met your mother that he
switched sides."

"You really didn't know, did you?" Lindilus said after a long silence.

"No... I didn't." Nahlia stared down at her hands, finally realizing how stupid she
must have sounded this entire time.

"You were innocent in all of this," he told her. "No one blames you for what your
father did."

Her eyes burned with the first signs of tears. But before they could fall, she
screwed her eyes shut and nodded sharply.

Lord and Lady Raider rose in unison then, as if they'd both decided to give her
some time alone.

Before she left, Cassandra stopped in the doorway, turning around to face her
again. "We can't promise your father's safety. But we can promise yours if you
decide to go to Whitecliff. There's a caravan leaving for the academy in two days.
You have until then to decide."

=================

9: The Prince of Dragonshard

Thane pulled a black hood over his eyes as he made his way through Dreshtae's
crowded markets. Thane hated this city and everything about it. Of all of the
cities he visited in his travels, this was easily the furthest thing imaginable
from Dragonshard.

Everything was warmer back home-the air, the sand, even the ocean seemed warm
compared to this frozen hell. He longed for the sight of his family's gardens
outside the palace-the sight of green palm trees, and birds soaring against a
cloudless blue sky.

Here in Dreshtae, everything was always dark and gray. If the cobblestone roads
weren't covered in ice and snow, they were covered with mud and horseshit. Beyond
that, he seemed to trip over endless crowds of beggars, whores and thieves
everywhere he went. No doubt foreigners like him made easy targets for their coin-
grabbing fingers.

Thane didn't make eye contact with any of them. He kept his eyes on the road and
his right hand on his purse as he made his way to the city's northern borders.

Unlike Dreshtae's harbors and eastern gates which were always bustling with
activity, the northern gate was one the quietest places in the entire city. There
weren't many people who dared to travel that way, save the occasional ranger or
hunting party.

Today was an exception to that rule. When Thane made his way through the gates, he
found a large host of Raider men there, along with half-a-dozen mammoths. He
watched from a safe distance as they loaded the massive creatures with barrels of
grain, meat and salt. It was enough food to feed a small army.

Just

how many students does Whitecliff have? He wondered. Fifty? A hundred?

It was common knowledge that the Clans of Raider, Alveron and Vash were all
affiliated with the academy to some extent. However, many of the lesser clans
remained unaccounted for after the purge. He could only speculate as to how many
the Seekers found over the past twenty years.

Thane continued surveying the scene until he finally saw Nahlia standing a short
distance away from the rest the party. With her crimson cloak and flowing auburn
hair, she was like a torch burning in a dark blizzard-delicate and vulnerable, but
also filled with warmth and determination.

He waited for a few moments to make sure she was alone, then he emerged from his
place in the shadows to stand beside her.

"Thane?" Her green eyes looked him over, as if to fully take in the sight of him.

He let his lips curl into a slight grin. "Did you think I'd forgotten you?"

Nahlia gave a frustrated nod, turning back to the snowy horizon. "To be honest...
I'd began to wonder if you were even real..."

"And why is that?"

"The way you just... found me in the Ethereal," she said. "I heard that was
impossible."

Of course... Clan Raider. Their ignorance was almost laughable. It was sad really,
how delusions of war could cloud one's mind from such simple truths. The Ethereal
had limitless power to offer; yet some Aeons like the Raiders still persisted in
picking up swords and fighting like children. They were hardly any different from
the Templars in that regard.

"It's not impossible," he explained, "It's

just difficult... especially if you don't know what you're doing. But I'm guessing
you already figured that out by now."

"Only because everything else you said came true," she gave him a serious look. But
I was almost set on not going to Whitecliff... not if I had to leave my father
behind."

He gave her a pointed look. "Nahlia, if we're going to do this, there isn't any
room for doubt. I already told you I would take care of your father."

"What else did you expect from me?" she retorted. "When you magically show up in my
dream and tell me I need to spy on some secret Aeon academy-then I don't hear from
you for six whole days after that?"

"You might want to keep your voice down." He glanced over toward the Raider men who
were still loading their mammoths. "Unless you want all of Dreshtae to hear you."

She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm just letting you know...
you're lucky that I'm still doing this. When I gave up on hearing from you again, I
asked the Raiders for help instead."

Thane raised a dark eyebrow. Well, this should be good...

"They were going to leave him in Kyroth," she snapped, "They were going to leave
him there to die, all because he used to be a Templar twenty years ago."
She managed to keep her voice quiet this time. Someone else might've missed the
subtle hints of despair and resentment in her tone, but Thane could almost feel the
air around her twisting and contorting into a violent knot.

When he gave her an understanding nod, she continued. "At first... I was mad at my
father

for keeping this a secret from me all these years. I thought that if what they said
about him was true... I could almost understand their reasons for not helping me."

Thane nodded again. "And now?"

After a moment, her eyes narrowed slightly. "I saw Lady Raider kill three Templar
soldiers back in the Hinterlands. And she seemed almost proud of it afterwards,
like she had made the world a better place. Tell me, how is that any different than
what my father did during the war? Is one life really more valuable than another?"

Thane couldn't help but be impressed at this. The first time he met this girl, she
struck him as young and naive. Now she displayed signs of wisdom that eluded not
only the Templars and the White Council, but even his own family.

"You're going to encounter more of that sort of thinking when you get to
Whitecliff," he told her. "There are Aeons there who want nothing more than
bloodshed... against the Templars, against the humans who drove them from their
lands. And when the day comes that they march west, they're going to reinforce
every last fear humanity has ever harbored toward us."

"I already knew the Aeons of Whitecliff were like that," she replied, "I just hoped
that my own father was better than that. If he killed Aeons-"

"It's not a question of 'if,'" Thane interjected. "Your father has killed Aeons,
just like your mother has killed Templars. Just like my parents, just like the
Raiders, and just like the masters of Whitecliff. They're all killers.

"But you and I-we have a chance to put an end to the

killings once and for all. Humans and Aeons have been fighting for dominance since
the beginning of time. But now with the Antarians gone, we finally have a chance at
peace."

Nahlia nodded slowly as she turned back to look at the line of mammoths. They were
almost fully loaded now and she would likely be leaving at any moment.

"Do you know how far I'm traveling?" she finally asked.

Thane shook his head. "I was hoping you did."

"They haven't told me anything," she admitted. "And on top of that, they're going
to blindfold me for some of the journey. They told that it's for Whitecliff's
safety and my own..."

He nodded. "Can't say I'm surprised. It's an old tradition that goes back
centuries... for as long as Aeons have had secret enclaves and academies. It's one
of the reasons these places stay hidden for so long."

She grimaced. "Well if that's true... then how am I supposed to tell you where it
is?"
"For now, just be patient. Pay attention to whatever details you can, but don't
draw too much attention to yourself. If we're going to do this, we need to do it
right."

"And what about you?" she asked. "How long is it going to take to free my father
from Kyroth?"

"It may take some time," he replied. "But don't worry; we're the ones that the
Templars hate and fear. Your father is one of them-not only a human, but a former
Templar. As terrible as that might sound now, it means that he'll be treated with
respect."

"You don't know that for sure," she said. "I've seen the Templars kill humans
too... Aeons or Aeon sympathizers... we're all the same to them."

"I didn't say he'd be safe forever. That's why we're doing this."

Before either of them could say another word, they were interrupted by one of the
Raider men. "Lady Cole! It's time to go."

Nahlia turned to leave, and Thane drifted back into the shadows from where he came.

=================

10 - Pt.1: The White Council

They spent the next few days trekking through an ever-changing landscape of ice,
rock and snow. Although they kept her blindfolded for most of the journey, Nahlia
could still feel the harsh changes in elevation as her mammoth climbed the steep
terrain, swaying back and forth with little regard for its passengers.

"I'd recommend you hold on tight," Lady Raider had said when they first set out
from Dreshtae. "It's a twenty foot drop if you fall, and the snow isn't nearly as
soft as it looks."
"Do many people fall?" Nahlia asked as she climbed into the massive leather saddle
behind her.

She nodded. "You'd be surprised. I've been running this route for the past fifteen
years now-ever since my children started attending the academy. In that time I've
seen one broken arm, several dislocated shoulders, and too many broken ribs to
count. It's always the first-timers too-cocky little lordlings who have no respect
for these creatures."

It probably doesn't help when you blindfold us, Nahlia thought, still not
understanding these excessive safety precautions. But she kept her complaints on
that matter to herself; The Aeons of Whitecliff didn't need another reason to
suspect her of disloyalty. Having her father turn out to be a former Templar did
more than enough to damage her reputation in that regard.

Nevertheless, she held on tight. They only traveled for two days, but might as well
have been two weeks. Nahlia thought that growing up in Northshire had made her
accustomed to the cold, but the road to Whitecliff was another matter entirely. The
nights were

well below freezing, and when the northern wind blew, it was like a knife piercing
straight through her warmest furs and woolens.

Lady Raider finally gave her permission to remove her blindfold at the end of the
second day. By then, the sun had fallen behind a range of mountains to the west,
its last few rays creeping out over the jagged horizon, painting the dark violet
landscape with faint splashes of yellow and orange.

"This is it," the Seeker said as she brought the column to a halt at the base of
the mountains.

"This is what?" Nahlia looked around, expecting to see some sign of civilization.
But there was nothing but mountains, trees, and endless planes of snow in every
direction.

"You'll see soon enough," she said absently, unraveling the ladder to dismount
their mammoth.

Nahlia took great care as she followed her. After two days of hard riding, her
thighs were raw and blistered and she was chilled to the bone, making her movements
feel slow and uncoordinated.

Lady Raider lit a torch and led her through a narrow path into the mountains. The
rest of their caravan stayed behind, leading their mounts off to some unseen
location.

The two Aeons walked in silence for several minutes until they were within sight of
a man-made stone archway in the side of the cliff. It was barely distinguishable
amongst the rough, stony surfaces that surrounded it.

No wonder this place has stayed hidden for so long, Nahlia thought. If this was
indeed the main entrance to Whitecliff Academy, the Templars could have sent ten
thousand men to survey the lands north of Dreshtae

and still miss it.

The inside of the tunnel was black as pitch, for all but the light of Cassandra's
glowing torch. The twisting staircase was barely wide enough for two people to walk
abreast. They crossed a landing and ascended another set of stairs, then repeated
the pattern, working their way up level by level. There were other passages leading
off from each landing, and she was thankful to have Cassandra as a guide. It seemed
all too easy to get lost in this underground labyrinth; perhaps that was the point?

"Watch your step here," the Seeker said, lowering her torch to reveal a section of
broken stairs in front of them. "The stonemasons were supposed to fix that weeks
ago."

"It sounds like you're here quite a bit," Nahlia observed as she sidestepped around
the broken set of stairs.

She nodded. "Seekers aren't technically required to escort their new recruits to
the academy," she explained. "But it's the only time I get to see Elias and Ciena
in-person."

"Your kids?"

She nodded again. "They're actually scheduled to graduate this term, but they've
been top of their class in both combat and weapons training for the past four
years. They're a bit older than you I think, but I'm sure you'll meet them soon
enough."

As the tunnel grew darker with no end in sight, Nahlia wondered if all of
Whitecliff was hidden underground like this. She hoped that wasn't the case;
hundreds of Aeons living their lives in a cave was quite a depressing thought.

However, when they reached the top of the staircase, she realized that nothing
could be further from the truth. They stepped under a raised portcullis into a
massive courtyard on the western side of the mountain. White cobbles paved the path
ahead, contrasted by red and violet perennials that were still blooming in spite of
the frost.

They walked by half a dozen brick buildings, towers, and an array of tunnels that
seemed to lead deeper into the mountainside. The students they passed wore garments
that appeared far too lightweight for the harsh northern climate-she took that as a
sign that it was far warmer inside.

"Nahlia Cole?" a voice called out to her from the other side of the courtyard. She
turned around to see a small boy, no older than ten or eleven years old.

"Yes?"

"The Council requests an audience with you," he said through several deep breaths.
"They've sent me show you the way."

She grimaced, giving Lady Raider a questioning glance. It seemed strange for the
masters of the academy to want to meet with her so soon.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble yet," Cassandra assured her. "It's customary
for the White Council to meet with every new student upon their arrival. And I'd
hurry if I were you-they hate to be kept waiting."

Realizing she had no real choice in the matter, Nahlia gave a weary nod and
followed the boy back toward the tallest tower on the opposite side of the
courtyard.
=================

10 - Pt.2: The White Council

They climbed a long, spiral staircase until they reached an antechamber at the top
of the tower. The only thing of note was a tall pair of polished wooden doors of
front of them.

"Go ahead," the boy gestured forward when he saw her hesitation. "They're already
expecting you inside."

Nahlia tugged open one of the heavy doors and felt cool, dry air brush past her.

The council chamber was a large, circular shaped room with marble. Fresh snowflakes
clung to the tall windows like white dust. In the distance, she could see the last
of the sun setting in an orange haze over the snow-covered mountain peaks.

The White Council was composed of five men and one woman; their chairs formed a
loose ring around the polished marble floor. They were a serious looking group,
ranging in age from mature to ancient.

The silence was broken when the man in the center of the room motioned her forward.
"Welcome to Whitecliff, Nahlia Cole. I am Alveron, the Headmaster of this Academy."

He spoke with a powerful voice, amplified by the vast emptiness of the council
chamber. "With me are Master Marwyn, Master Vaulder, Battlemaster Vash, and of
course, the Chronicler of our Academy, Master Zidane."

She nodded respectfully to each Master in turn. However, Nahlia became painfully
aware of a sense of expectation and scrutiny in the room. This meeting was more
than mere formality; they wanted something from her. She wrapped herself tightly in
her fur cloak, hoping the warmth would calm her nerves.

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair. "So tell us then Nahlia, what do you

know of this academy?"

Not knowing what they wanted to hear, she decided that the simple truth would be
best. "I know that young Aeons are trained here in the ways of war and combat... so
they can defend themselves against the Templars."

"True..." Master Alveron gave a thoughtful nod. "But it hasn't always been that
way. Whitecliff Academy was once a place of higher learning in academia, healing,
dreaming, and meditation. But now, as you know, the rest of the world has rallied
against our kind. They're superstitions-even afraid-of our abilities because they
can't understand or explain them. Humanity expects us to be dangerous, and they
treat us so."

Nahlia nodded in agreement, reminiscing over the events of the past week and how
the Templars had sent a small army to capture her.

'We still don't promote war or violence here," he explained. "But even so,
providing our students with training in self-defense is a necessity to ensure the
survival of our race."

This was true as well. If she had been able to fight like Lady Raider, those
Templars in the Moonstone Inn might never have captured her. She might've escaped;
she might've prevented Hector from dying in her defense. She might even have saved
her father from capture. Instead... she ran.

"Lady Raider tells us that you come to us as a raw apprentice," Alveron noted.
"That you have no previous training in combat."

"That's true, but I'm willing to learn." Nahlia assured them.

He gave her an approving nod, followed by a long pause. "Perhaps you've also
noticed the precautions we take in order to ensure this enclave

remains hidden from the outside world."

"Yes sir, I did."

"Of course, the Templars have been aware of our existence for the past several
years. But they haven't been able to narrow down our specific location... until
recently."

"When they set up their base in Kyroth," Nahlia offered.

"Correct. Now more than ever, secrecy is a top priority. You will forgive us if we
ask you a few questions regarding this?"

Having no real choice, she nodded.

"Have you heard of Whitecliff before?" Master Vash spoke in a voice that cut like
jagged steel. His black hair was pulled tightly behind the back of his head; his
eyes were like narrow chips of onyx.

Nahlia didn't dare lie. With so many eyes on her, she was certain that one of the
Masters would see through it. Of course, telling the truth wasn't an option either.
If they found out about Thane, there was no telling how they might react. After
all, she was hundreds of miles from civilization. If they wanted to, they could
stick her in a cell and forget about her.

"Nahlia?" Master Alveron's voice brought her back to reality.

"I don't know," was all she could manage.

"It's a simple question," Master Vash said, cracking his knuckles absent-mindedly.
"Either you recall someone mentioning this academy by name, or you don't."

"I... do," the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I mean...
I've heard the name before."

"Go on," said Alveron

"I used to work at an inn in Northshire," she explained. "And I would sometimes
overhear conversations between the patrons. One night-recently-I

heard a traveling scholar talking about Aeons... he may have mentioned Whitecliff
by name."

Vash furrowed his dark eyebrows. "And this... 'traveling scholar', did he speak
with you personally?"

She hesitated again for a long moment, watching the last of the sun fade behind the
rocky horizon. The only remaining light in the room came from the red oil lamps
burning on the wall.

Alveron must've seen the fear reflected on her face. "You're afraid."

She took a deep, shuddering breath. "No sir. It's just that... I've spent the last
week running from the Templars. And now that I'm finally somewhere safe, I feel
like I'm being attacked again."

He seemed to understand. "As someone so familiar with the Templar Order, I'm sure
you can understand Master Vash's concerns regarding the safety of this Academy.
After all, this Council is responsible for the lives of hundreds of Aeons-yourself
among them-and it only takes one spy to bring the downfall of us all."

Nahlia bristled at that. She wanted to believe that it was nothing personal-that
they were just doing their jobs. But at the same time, she couldn't imagine them
going through this same line of questioning with every new student.

"I understand sir. But do these questions have anything to do with the fact that my
father is a human, and a former Templar?"

"They might," Vash replied with no particular inflection. "You were young when your
mother died; your father raised you on his own for a good portion of your life."

"Yes, your age is also a cause for concern," Master Marwyn agreed. He was younger
than the

others by at least a decade. Clean-shaven, with a slender build. He sat anxiously

in his chair, like a child who had been forced to sit down with adults.

"You may have noticed," he continued, "many students come here as young children.
Some orphans and refuges, others-their parents simply wanted them to be safe. The
Seekers visited you when you were younger-after your mother died-offered you a
place here. Your father declined; said you were safer with him. 'No place where
Aeons gather is safe,' he said. Now here you are, older-more opportunities for...
external influence."

He spoke so quickly that it took Nahlia a moment to process everything.

"Of course..." she murmured. "But my father spent the last fifteen years keeping me
safe from the Templars. He never told me that he used to be one of them. I didn't
even find out about it until I met Lord and Lady Raider."

"Very well," Alveron said as if that settled the matter.

For a moment, she though the interrogation was over. Unfortunately, Vash wasted no
time before he bombarded her with yet another line of questioning.

"We've received word that the Templars apprehended your father the same night they
came for you in Northshire. Have they made any attempt to contact you since then?
Perhaps... offering his freedom in exchange for information on this Academy?"

"No," she replied quickly. "The last time I saw the Templars, they shot me with a
crossbow bolt." Nahlia put her hand an inch below her heart. "I still have my
stitches if you need proof."

"That... wont be necessary." Vash made a placating

gesture. "Have you been in contact with anyone outside the Templar Order then?
Another Aeon, perhaps?"

This caught her completely off-guard. The question was so specific, she was almost
certain they knew about Thane.

No, calm down. She took several deep breaths to stop her anxiety from turning into
panic. It was just a question. They haven't accused you of anything yet. Nahlia had
no choice but to feign ignorance this time. If she told them about Thane, no one
else would save her father. "Why would another Aeon ask me to gather information,
sir?" I thought all Aeons were welcome here at Whitecliff?"

"Not all of them," Vash's reply came as cold and sudden as the northern wind. "The
academy has served as a sanctuary from the Templars ever since the purge, but it
pre-dates the fall of the Antarian Empire by several hundred years. And in that
time, it's been threatened by people far more dangerous than the Templars."

Alveron silenced him with a look, and the room became quiet enough to hear the
frost forming on the windows.

"We will discuss this matter more fully in private," he said to no one in
particular. "Nahlia, we thank you for your cooperation, and you can rest assured
that we will find a place for you here. In the meantime, please make yourself
comfortable downstairs. Someone will be along shortly to show you to your room."

She nodded wearily and plodded out of the room. If two solid days of traveling
wasn't enough to exhaust her, this interrogation was. The Headmaster said he would
find a place for her here, but Nahlia knew she would never be one of them. And as
cold and harsh as the White Council had seemed, they were only doing what they
believed was best to keep this place safe... to keep it safe from her.

A/N: if you enjoyed this chapter, please don't forget to vote! Comments and
feedback are always appreciated as well. I always respond. :)
=================

11: The Gorge

The morning dawned clear and cold over Whitecliff's western valley. Bursts of
arctic air stung her cheeks as she ran through the snowy obstacle course,
struggling to keep pace with forty-five of her peers. Nahlia started out strong,
but her muscles grew weaker with every rope and tree she climbed. The dry mountain
air made her nose run, and she quickly lost control of her breathing.

"Pick it up, Cole!" Battlemaster Vash shouted from his place at the edge of the
Gorge. "You're falling behind!"

Nahlia clenched her teeth and ran faster, forcing herself to at least keep up with
the back of the group. Although it was hardly fair of him to compare her to
Whitecliff's other students. Most of them were taller, faster, and stronger than
she was. More importantly, they were raised to be Aeon soldiers. By now, this sort
of physical training would've been second nature to them.

"Over the logs Cole, not under!" the Battlemaster scolded her again. Somehow, his
voice rang even louder than the thunderous stampede of boots on the valley floor.
Needless to say, Nahlia liked Vash even less now than she had before.

Only through a pure effort of will did she make it through the final stamina
exercise-a deep, narrow trench with at least five feet of snow lining the bottom.
Her limbs and face were semi-frozen and clumsy, while sweat trickled icily down her
back beneath layers of white wool. Still she pressed on, driven only by the
prospect of becoming strong enough to face the Templars. That was the purpose of
this course after all. It was the reason Whitecliff's students were

so hardened and capable.

She let out a sigh of relief when the end of the Gorge was finally in sight.
Although her victory was cut short by the fact that she finished in last place, a
full thirty seconds after everyone else. She collapsed to her knees then, thirsty
and gasping for breath. By now, the others had already made their way up the stone
staircase toward Whitecliff's main courtyard. Many of them were talking and
laughing amongst themselves as if they hadn't even broken a sweat.

So cold... so thirsty...

Pulling a water flask from her belt, she wiped the snow from her face and shook the
remaining contents into her mouth. Unfortunately, she already drank most of it
during the warm-up exercises. When only a few drops poured out, she cast it aside
in frustration.

"Here, take mine," came a faint voice from the edge of her vision. Nahlia looked up
to see one of her classmates-a slender girl with almond-shaped eyes and hair as
black as ebony.

"Thank you," she smiled and accepted the flask, draining its contents in a matter
of seconds. The cool water brought life back into her dry lips and throat.

"You're new here... aren't you?" The girl said, extending her hand to help her
struggling classmate to her feet.

She nodded faintly. "I got here two days ago. I guess it must be pretty obvious,
huh?"

"On the contrary, you did great for a first-timer. Seriously, it takes most people
a few days just to get past the ropes section."

"You mean... they don't even finish?" Nahlia brightened at this and stood a little
taller. Master Vash almost

had her convinced that she was a complete and utter failure.

Not even close," the other girl chuckled. "You must be either really strong, or
really crazy. Or both."

She returned the laugh. "I'll go with crazy, since I definitely don't feel strong
right now." Remembering her manners, she reached out her hand for the other girl to
shake. "I'm Nahlia, by the way."

"Relic Vash," she replied. Her grip was surprisingly strong considering her small
size. "And before you ask-yes, I am related to Battlemaster Vash; he's my uncle."

"I actually wouldn't have guessed that. Master Vash seems more... I don't know-"

"-cold?" Relic offered. "Paranoid? Like the Templars might storm down the gates at
any second? Don't worry; everyone thinks that about him." She laughed. "He does
take his job quite seriously though. Elias Raider even promised ten silver talents
to anyone who can make him laugh."

"Oh," Nahlia relaxed even more. "That's good. I thought it was just me who he
hated."
Relic smiled and shook her head. "He doesn't hate you, I promise. He's just hard on
us because he wants us all to succeed. Trust me, just do what he says, take your
training seriously, and you'll get along fine. And don't worry... unlike him, I'm
an absolute delight!"

Engaging in small talk, the two of them climbed several long flights of stairs
toward Whitecliff's main courtyard. It was refreshing to talk to someone her own
age for once; someone who wasn't a Magister, a Council Member, or... whatever Thane
was.

Their route took them past snow-covered hills and evergreen trees,

over two bridges and past the foundations of several large structures. Nahlia
stopped at a tall archway that was carved out of the cliff beneath Whitecliff's
cathedral. She assumed that it was the entrance to the crypts. A tall statue,
carved in the likeness of a young Aeon woman, guarded the cave.

"Who was she?" Nahlia asked, gesturing toward the mysterious figure that caught her
attention.

"Sara Trevelyan," Relic replied. "She was the daughter of Whitecliff's first
Headmaster. She was also the only student ever to die within the Academy's walls."

"Really? What happened to her?"

"Well, it's kind of a long story, and it happened over a hundred years ago so no
one can say for certain. But I've heard she died in her sleep."

Nahlia gave her a questioning look. "What do you mean? Was she sick or something?"

Relic shook her head. "That's the strange part; she was completely healthy when she
died. Personally, I subscribe to the theory that she was murdered by someone inside
the Ethereal."

Nahlia stopped short. "Is that even possible? I mean-wouldn't she wake up if
someone tried to kill her?"

"One would think. But like I said, it's a long story, and I definitely don't
understand all the science behind it. From what I've been told, she was
interrogated in the Ethereal by another Aeon. He wanted the location of this
Academy, and when she refused to tell him, he killed her. Apparently, whatever
trick he used to find her in the first place was also strong enough to stop her
from waking up."

Nahlia shuddered at that. She might have shrugged Relic's story off

as superstition, except for the fact that Sara Trevelyan's killer sounded far too
similar to another Aeon she knew. Not only was Thane able to find people in their
dreams, he was also interested in discovering Whitecliff's location. Of course,
this girl died over a hundred years ago. And Thane didn't seem like a killer, so
she hoped it was only a coincidence.

They reached the warmth of Whitecliff's dining hall a few minutes later. Breakfast
was eggs, bacon, and fresh brown bread. The room's large plank tables were nearly
full, but they still found a pair of empty seats by the hearth. Nahlia was
especially grateful for that as she let her snow-covered hair down to dry.

"So... ever run into any Templars?" Relic asked conversationally, tearing off a
piece of bread and smearing it with butter.

The question took her by surprise, and Nahlia found her mind flashing through the
events of the past week in rapid succession. It was enough to give her a headache.

"Sorry," Relic said in response to the other girl's silence. "I didn't mean to pry.
It's just that... you've been out in the real world for so long-I figured..."

"No, it's okay," she lifted a shoulder. "I've run into them a few times, actually."

"Really?" the other girl leaned forward to listen, and Nahlia launched into the
story, filling her new friend in on the events of the past week. She told her how
the Templars had come for her in Northshire, but captured her father instead. How
they chased her through the Hinterlands for several days. And finally, how the
Raiders had come to her rescue at the last minute. The only

part she left out was her multiple encounters with Thane.

"Wow, I can't believe you got shot!" Relic exclaimed. "You should've told someone
about that. I bet you could've gotten out of training this morning if you had."

"I wish," she smiled. "But they removed my stitches in the Medica yesterday
afternoon. I didn't have much of an excuse after that."

"Mmm..." Relic murmured, swallowing a mouthful of bacon. "But is it true? Cassandra

Raider herself disguised as one of the Templars and then killed three of them to
save you?"

"It's true," a small smile escaped her lips. "If she hadn't shown up when she did,
I don't think I'd be alive right now."

"She's always been my hero," Relic mused, her eyes glittering. "I'm also planning
on becoming a Seeker when I graduate. After spending ten years in this place, it'll
be nice to get out and see the world for once. Preferably somewhere warm."

"Do you know Lady Raider well then?"

"Of course I do! Everyone here knows the Raiders. But I'm in Wolfe Clan with Elias
and Ciena so I probably know her better than most."

She gave a confused shrug. "Wolfe Clan?"

"Oh, sorry," Relic shook her head suddenly, her black hair swinging back and forth.
"I guess no one told you about how things work around here yet."

"I guess not," she shrugged again. "Do they have something to do with the fact that
everyone here is always divided up into smaller groups?"

"Exactly," she replied. "The clans are typically groups of five or six. The younger
students are more or less thrown together at random based on their

ages. But once you're sixteen or older, you have to choose a specific area of
study, and that determines which type of clan you're in. Like me for example; I'm
studying to become a Seeker, so I'm in a battleground clan."

Nahlia recalled the sense of competition and rivalry in the Gorge that morning
between her fellow students. How some of them seemed to help each other while
simultaneously sabotaging the efforts of others. "So... I take it the battleground
clans fight against one another then?"
"Right again. We compete down in the Gorge every week. The games usually involve
more than just pure combat though. They're supposed to simulate real-world
scenarios, so we need to use strategy, stealth, observation-everything at our
disposal."

"Wow, the battlegrounds sound pretty serious." Nahlia said.

Relic nodded in agreement. "You should consider joining a clan. Between your
experience evading the Templars, and how well you did in the Gorge this morning,
I'd say it's only a matter of time before someone tries to recruit you."

"I'm not so sure about that," she said. "Besides, I only just got here two days
ago. I wouldn't even know where to start."

"I think I might be able to help you with that..." She cocked her head to one side,
a tiny smile curling at one edge of her mouth."

"What? Are you saying you have an open spot in Wolfe Clan?"

"Well... we already have five members, but plenty of the other clans have six so it
wouldn't be that strange for us to bring in another. And the Battlemaster is in
charge of all battleground clans anyway, so all I'd have to do is ask my uncle. But
if I did, would you be interested?"

"I don't know..." Nahlia shrugged, turning her attention back down to her plate.
After her encounter with the White Council, she had planned on lying low for a
while until Thane reached out to her again. Joining one of these clans seemed like
it would only draw unnecessary attention to herself in the meantime.

On the other hand, the Masters might be more suspicious if she were to remain an
outsider. She and her father had been outsiders in Northshire. They thought they
were safer that way, but it only caused the rest of the town to turn on them when
the Templars arrived. Nahlia didn't have to make the same mistake twice, not when
she was finally among her own kind. "Can I think about it?" she asked.

"Of course," Relic said cheerfully as she stood up from the table. "I have to get
to class now, but meet me in the courtyard at around fifth bell today. We can talk
more then."

=================

12: The History of Valaridor

Nahlia was relieved to discover there was much more to life at Whitecliff than just
obstacle courses, battle clans, and combat training. After breakfast, her first
real class of the day was The History of Valaridor with Master Zidane. Like Relic
and her uncle, Zidane came from the Far East. His accent was thick, but his
Antarian was as flawless as anybody from this side of the Sunrise Sea.

The classroom itself resembled a small theater. Seats rose in tiered semicircles
around a small raised stage while particulate daylight streamed in though massive
stained-glass windows. Despite the room's generous size, there couldn't have been
more than fifteen or twenty students-most of them Nahlia's age or older. This was
hardly a surprise considering the rather advanced subject material.

Zidane paced around the room, his voice echoing throughout the high ceilings as he
spoke, lecturing them on Ascalon's political and economic situation in the years
leading up to the Purge. It didn't take long for Nahlia's interest and
concentration to wane. Recent history was also a popular subject throughout the
Republic, especially among the human chroniclers and historians. They seized every
opportunity to paint Aeons as supernatural monsters who abused their power. In
contrast to this, the Templars were always described as war heroes and saviors of
the Realm.

"...which brings us to more recent events," Master Zidane spoke up after a short
pause. "The Human Revolution in Ascalon, which eventually led to the infamous purge
of our race. By now I know you're all familiar with this topic, so allow

me to pose this question to you: why did the Revolution happen in the first place?"

The room fell silent. Nahlia mustered a few educated guesses, but decided to keep
them to herself.

"You don't have to read too much into it," Zidane told them. "I'm not asking for
every factor that led to the fall of the Antarian Empire. We'd be here all day if
that were the case. I only want to know why the humans rebelled."

Nahlia raised her hand this time.

"Ah, our newest student," Zidane smiled and gestured toward the back of the room.
"Nahlia Cole, is it?"

"Yes sir," she nodded and cleared her throat. "I believe... the humans rebelled
because they felt mistreated under the rule of the Antarian Empire. They thought
Emperor Antares and the other great clans were abusing their power."

"Yes, of course. But be more specific. The humans have been unhappy for centuries.
Yet it was only recently that they rebelled. Why? What happened twenty years ago?"

Her thoughts shattered for a moment. There were many factors to consider. There was
the increased taxation and shortage of food following the third Centurion War. Not
to mention how Emperor Antares seemed to abuse his power, spending ridiculous
amounts of the Realm's gold on extravagant parties and tournaments in the capital.

However, none of these were especially out of the ordinary for the Antares dynasty-
not enough to permit a widespread revolution. The biggest contrast between the past
and present had to be the violence that erupted between races. And every history
book she'd read seemed to point back to one particular event. The first

story Nahlia ever heard that suggested Aeons processed supernatural abilities.

She cleared her throat again before speaking. "I read that a masked Aeon-a
commander in the Emperor's army-attacked the human town of Idemre just before the
Revolution began. He meant to assassinate the Templar's leader, Nathaniel Mason,
but the other Templars and townspeople stood in his way. So... the masked Aeon
called down fire from the sky, burning the entire city and everyone in it."

By now, her classmates were shooting her strange looks and whispering amongst
themselves. Nahlia quickly switched to a more sensible and relevant part of the
story. "When the rest of the Order found out what happened to their leader, the
story spread throughout the Empire, and they used it to rally support for their
cause."
A flicker of surprise crossed the Chronicler's face, but he regained his composure
quickly. "Ah yes... and here we have a classic example of history being written by
the victors. What you speak of may be seen as truth throughout the Republic. But I
assure you, it's nothing more than an old rumor with no basis in fact, begun and
perpetuated by the very humans who instigated the Revolution."

He turned to address the other students, pacing across the stage as he spoke. "You
see... Nahlia here was raised among humans for most of her life. She's telling us
the human version of the story, the one that blames us for the Revolution." Zidane
said this matter-of-factly, as if he intended no offence. Even so, Nahlia slumped
back in her seat.

"There was no 'burning' of Nathaniel Mason's

hometown," he continued. "At least, not by Aeons. You have to admit, it's quite
convenient that they blame the entire war on some mysterious 'masked figure' with
supernatural powers. How they judge an entire race for an event that could just as
easily be a work of fiction. How can we possibly defend ourselves against those
allegations?

"But that's not to say that Mason's death was inconsequential. Quite the opposite
in fact; Mason spent most of his life trying to empower humanity and advocating for
equality. Five years before the revolution, the Templars demanded representation on
the Small Council. And eventually, the Emperor gave in, making Mason the first
human representative in recorded history.

"This is where the revolution truly began. A small taste of power for the humans
led to widespread insurgence throughout the Empire. Over the next five years, the
Templar Order slowly evolved from a group of scholars, advocates and scientists to
a formidable military force. And as Mason's influence grew, he began spreading lies
about our race, lies so terrible, he convinced thousands of humans to fight for
him."

He turned back to face Nahlia. "Which brings us back to the event you mentioned
before; Nathaniel Mason's death. Emperor Antares foolishly believed he could end
the civil war before it happened by cutting out the problem at its source. But as
you all know, this plan backfired. While his assassin succeeded, it turned the
former Knight-Commander into a martyr, therefor lighting the spark to a fire that
was years in the making.

"The humans outnumbered our race ten-to-one,

and Ascalon fell in a matter of months. Still, the humans continued to spread their
lies about us. Even now, people believe that Mason's killer called down 'fire from
the sky,' incinerating every human who stood between him and their beloved leader.
Once again, I pose this question to you all; if the Revolution was already won,
what purpose did these lies serve?"

This time, another student stood up to answer. He was tall and formidable. His
blonde hair cut short, framing a strong, square jawline. There was no doubt in
Nahlia's mind that he was one of the Raider twins.

"Elias," Master Zidane nodded amiably in his direction.

Elias took a short, deliberate breath before talking. "These days, the humans like
to pretend that everyone hated the Aeons during the Revolution-that the Revolution
happened everywhere at once. But that's not true at all. I lived in Raidenwood
during the Purge, and the humans there believed in my father. Not only did they not
rebel against us, they were willing to follow Lord Raider into war if it came to
that."

"Exactly," Zidane snapped his fingers. "The Revolution only happened in a select
few city states. As you said, Raidenwood lasted five years longer than Ascalon. And
Dragonshard still stands to this day.

"Of course this didn't sit well with the Templars. They wanted more. They wanted to
purge the entire realm of our race. So they continued to spread their lies about
us. Embellishing stories from the battle of Ascalon, drawing upon old myths and
legends. Referring to us as supernatural beings and accusing us of using dark
magic...

whatever it took to finally be rid of us. They needed to convince the Realm that we
were a constant threat-that if we weren't exterminated, we would use our power to
seize control again. And of course... whenever a group of Aeons resisted or fought
back, it only served to prove their point."

So that's it? Nahlia thought. A few bad political tactics by Emperor Antares
sparked the entire revolution? And every story I've heard about powerful Aeons was
just... propaganda?

Something odd was going on. Nahlia had met the current Templar Commander in
Northshire, and he seemed intent on proving to his men that the Aeons were weak and
that they shouldn't be feared. But according to Zidane, the Templars were spreading
rumors that said the exact opposite. Her eyes wondered around the room to see a
general nodding of heads and murmurous agreement from her peers. They seemed so
convinced that the Templars were the ones altering history and spreading lies. But
couldn't the humans say the same thing about them?

She had planned on remaining quiet for the rest of this class, but she couldn't
help herself. This was too important to ignore. Thane obviously processed a power
that other Aeons lacked. And until she found out what that power was; she continued
to be a pawn in his game.

She raised her hand again. "If I'm understanding this right, you're saying that
history is unreliable because it depends on the historian?"

"Correct," Zidane nodded.

Nearby, someone yawned with theatrical exaggeration, eliciting a chorus of laughter

from nearby students. Obviously

academics like this weren't the most popular past-times in Whitecliff. Nahlia
rolled her eyes and did her best to ignore them. After all, they didn't know the
things she did.

"Then how do we know for certain that our version of history is the truth?" she
asked.

"Ah, an excellent question," he showed a thin sliver of a smile. "When it comes to

history, we can say nothing with absolute certainty. This holds equally true with
recent events and ancient ones. All historians have their own biases, and just as
old books and tablets can mislead us, so can eyewitnesses. Even our own memories
can deceive us more than we might expect.

"The best we can do is remain objective and logical in our findings. In the case of
what happened in Idemre, it's simply more logical for us to infer that the humans
exaggerated what happened. Perhaps even going as far as to burn the town
themselves."

"But it is possible though," Nahlia said, "that some Aeons throughout history did
have powers that couldn't be explained by traditional science?"

Zidane lifted a graying eyebrow. "Possible, yes. It's also possible that dragons
still roam the earth. I wouldn't dwell on either one without further evidence... or
without a good reason."

"Maybe the half-blood does have a reason." This time, it was Elias's sister, Ciena,
who spoke up. She looked just like him, with the same jawline and high cheekbones.
Her hair was pulled back in two contrasting braids, one gold, the other dyed a dark
crimson.

"Maybe... she's trying to justify the Templar's

actions during the Purge," Ciena went on. "Trying to justify the genocide of our
race."

"Of course not!" Nahlia shook her head quickly. "I think there's no excuse for what
the Templars did to us. But Master Zidane just said that all historians have
biases. If that's the case, wouldn't it be best to acknowledge our own biases?"

Ciena stifled a laugh. "Wait-so you're saying Aeons can magically call down fire
from the sky, but we're trying to keep that a secret. Not just from the humans, but
from each other. All because we're... biased?"

"I don't know," Nahlia admitted. "But I've seen evidence for both sides of the
argument. Even my-" she cut herself off, suddenly remembering that her father, the
former-Templar, wouldn't be considered a reliable source of information here.

Unfortunately, Ciena realized the same thing. "Oh right... your father. What was
his name again?"

"Aaron Cole...." Nahlia bit her lip and looked away. Anything was better than
staring into those venomous green eyes.

"Cole..." Ciena snorted derisively. "Well, if that isn't the most human name I've
ever heard. I'm sure he didn't have an ulterior motive when he told you those
bedtime stories about dangerous, magical Aeons."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she snapped.

"Maybe not," Ciena sneered, "but neither do you. Like my brother said, we were
there in Raidenwood when the Templars came and destroyed our home-when they finally
convinced my father's own subjects to turn against him. I can assure you, if my
family had any sort of 'magical powers' to defend ourselves, we would have used
them. We would have burned every last Templar to a pile of ash."

Nahlia flinched, and her eyes darted back to Master Zidane. He only leaned back on
his large wooden desk, seemingly content to let them argue. Unfortunately, she
didn't have a viable retort. The only evidence that supported her theory was her
encounter with Thane, and that was far too dangerous to share. All she could say
was, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."

Ciena only rolled her eyes. Although the tension in the room seemed to evaporate
when she finally returned to her seat.

"There's nothing wrong with asking questions," Zidane said after a short silence.
"However, Ciena's right. Some questions are more dangerous than others, and can
serve no other purpose than to fuel the very fires that our enemies started. In the
end, it was the words of one man that brought down the Antarian Empire. And if his
lies are allowed to live on, then so will this new world the Templars have
created."

As soon as the Chronicler's gaze left her, Nahlia slouched deeper into her seat.
But she still found it suspicious that Zidane devoted his entire life to studying
history, yet he wasn't the least bit curious about the myths and legends that
surrounded their race. Either he was right about everything, or the masters of
Whitecliff were hiding something.

Either way, she intended to find out the truth.

=================

13 - Pt.1: Wolfe Clan

If Zidane's class taught her one thing, it was that Aeons and humans were more
alike than either group would ever admit. Each race believed the other was corrupt,
but Nahlia had seen compassion and cruelty from both sides now.

The Templar Order had exhausted all their resources to hunt and kill her in the
Hinterlands while humans like Hector, Merith and Argus willingly risked their lives
to protect her. Thane spoke of peace and an end to the violence while Aeons like
Ciena Raider talked of nothing but war and bloodshed.

Each race believed the other had instigated the Revolution and the Purge, and when
Nahlia tried to suggest an alternative perspective, that only brought upon more
hostility. Clearly the Aeons of Whitecliff had as much blind faith in their race's
integrity as humanity did in the Templar Order.

Needless to say, this controversial perspective didn't earn her any new friends. On
the contrary, Ciena looked like she could've strangled her. Her only friend here
was Relic, and this made her decision to join Wolfe Clan that much easier.

While Nahlia had gotten used to being an outcast in Northshire, that approach
wouldn't do her any good here. She could never unravel Whitecliff's secrets on her
own-not if she wanted to save her father in time.

Exhausted from a long day of physical training and classes, Nahlia left the Main
Hall just before fifth bell. The courtyard bustled with the activity of both
students and instructors as they poured out from the classrooms, into the Dining
Hall and the caves.

Nahlia breathed in a lungful of fresh mountain

air as she walked out under the violet-tinged sky. It felt strangely similar to
stepping outside the Moonstone Inn after a long and busy dinner shift. The
similarity was comforting, especially when everything else in the Academy felt so
foreign to her.

A fresh flurry of snowflakes came blowing down from the slopes of the mountains,
and she pulled up the hood of her parka to shield herself. Then someone tapped her
on the shoulder. Nahlia jumped almost a foot in the air and nearly caught Relic
with her elbow.

The other girl took a swift step back, startled by her reaction.

"Relic," she exhaled and put a hand over her chest. "I'm so sorry. I'm not normally
so skittish."

"Guess I can't blame you," she said smiling. "Running from the Templars will do
that to the best of us."

Nahlia nodded, brushing several loose strands of hair from her eyes. "How did it go
with your uncle today?"

"Taken care of, as promised!"

"Really? It was that was easy to convince him?" Considering the way Vash had
treated her before, she half-expected him to refuse her outright.

"What?" Relic grinned and cocked her head do the side. "Are you saying you doubted
me?"

Nahlia laughed and shook her head. "I may have underestimated you a little.
Should've known that being the Battlemaster's niece had its perks."

"It definitely comes in handy," she said. "But as much as I'd like to take all the
credit, you did impress him this morning in the Gorge."

Nahlia raised her eyebrows. "He said that?"

"Well... no, " Relic shrugged. "But he didn't say anything bad about

you either. For Vash, that's practically gushing. Anyway, I'm supposed to bring you
down to Wolfe Clan's dormitories if you're still interested. You are still
interested, right?"

"Of course," she said at once. "Lead the way."

Relic led her through one of the larger tunnels in the mountainside. The other girl
moved surprisingly fast for someone so short, taking the steps two at a time as
they descended the winding spiral staircase deeper into the mountain.

Nahlia half-expected to find another dark and narrow corridor like the one she
followed Lady Raider through to get here. She was pleasantly surprised to find this
one both spacious and well lit. Crystal lamps hung from the pillars on either side
of them, emitting a pale violet light. When they reached the bottom of the
staircase, their path expanded into a large rotunda with more tunnels leading off
in every direction.

"Wow," Nahlia's eyes widened to fully take in the vastness of the underground
atrium. Three statues of gray stone dominated the scene. Their hands grasped large
white crystals, illuminating the domed ceiling above.

It felt warmer down here than the courtyard on the surface, and everyone seemed
more relaxed. She saw students of various ages studying at the base of the statues,
reading their books by the pale crystal light. Others were socializing and
drinking, playing card games and instruments.

"I know. I was surprised my first time too," Relic said as she took her elbow and
steered her toward one of the many corridors. "Student dormitories are down this
way."

They made their way

down a shorter staircase and took a turn at another crossroads. Their route seemed
incredibly complex-countless tunnels in every direction, but with few with
distinguishable characteristics.

"Do a lot of new students get lost down here?" Nahlia asked as they walked.

Relic laughed. "Not often. Most of the first years are younger than you, and
they're required to stay with their clans most of the time. Besides that, it's not
as complicated as it looks down here. The Master's Hall is on the north side;
student halls are on the east side, and the southern tunnels lead under the
cathedral, through the crypts and back into the Gorge where we were this morning."

Relic pointed in seemingly random directions as she spoke. Nahlia usually had a
good sense of direction, but only when she was above ground. Down here everything
looked the same, and the other girl might as well have been speaking Centurion.

"Oh, and the Archives are just through there." Relic gestured past a large set of
stone arches. "If you have any classes with Zidane this term, be prepared to spend
all your time in there."

Nahlia nodded. She also noticed that as their route transitioned from the entry-
tunnels to the Archives, the architecture style seemed to change as well. Now the
arches and pillars they passed resembled the styles of the old Antarian dynasties-
more ornamental than anything created in the recent centuries. This implied that
many additions had been added-likely over a long period of time.

"I thought you said Whitecliff was less than a hundred years old?" She remarked,
indicating some of the older, more intricate pillars as they walked.

"No, I said the first headmaster lived a hundred years ago," she explained. "The
Academy itself is much older. Some of the buildings on the surface are new, but the
cathedral and everything underground used to be part of some old Aeon monastery.
For all we know, that could've been thousands of years ago."

She nodded. "Does anyone know what happened to the original occupants?"

"Hard to say." Relic shrugged. "We don't know much about them, except that they
loved to read." She gestured back down the corridor that led to the Archives. "They
left thousands of old books and tomes behind. Some of them have never even been
read, much less translated."

The idea of so many books in one place
especially the prospect of discovering
library had been burned along with the
surviving books were stored in a small
than her bedroom at the inn.
made Nahlia flare with excitement,
long forgotten knowledge. Northshire's
cathedral during the Purge. The only
room beneath the town hall, barely bigger

They rounded a corner, and a gentle draft feathered her cheek and stirred her hair.
Although it wasn't a cold draft that she might've expected from a northern cave; it
was warm and humid, like a summer night by the sea. She loosened her parka and made
a mental note to ask Relic about that later.

"It's right in here," Relic said as she passed through one final stone archway.
Nahlia looked up to see a stone wolf carved in relief over the door.
She took a deep breath and followed Relic inside.

=================

13 - Pt.2: Wolfe Clan

Wolfe Clan's common room was a large circular shaped chamber with a dueling circle
at its center. Thin stone pillars lined the edges of the room, along with a ring of
cushioned seats for spectators. The only sounds were the thundering of combat boots
against the stone floor and the clangor of steel on steel.

A pair of tall and slender figures danced in the ring under the crystal light. When
Nahlia stepped out of the tunnel, she recognized them as the Raider twins. Ciena
with her half-crimson hair, and Elias with a crimson tattoo on his bare chest.

He fought with two short swords as swift and agile as if they were extensions of
his arms. Every move was precise and efficient, and though his strength was
undeniable, he never used more force than necessary for an attack. It reminded
Nahlia of Cassandra, and the day she rescused her from the Templars.

Ciena was the opposite of her brother. She was a swirling vortex of silver and gold
and crimson, her precision overshadowed by pure fury and adrenaline, the spinning
silver quarterstaff attacking her twin from every angle.

Nahlia turned and gave Relic a pointed look. "You didn't tell me she was in this
clan."

"You mean Ciena? Why? Do you know her?"

"Unfortunately, yes." She let out a small sigh. "We met this afternoon in Zidane's
class."

"Ahh," Relic nodded in understanding. "Well don't worry about Ciena, she's not as
bad as she seems. Difficult to get along with maybe, but she and her brother are
the best fighters in this school. Just be glad she's on our side."

"Will that really make a difference?"

"Of

course! As the top battleground clan, we have our fair share of rivals. Trust me,
we don't have time to fight amongst ourselves too-except in training of course."
She gestured back toward the Raider twins.

They were circling each other like wary lions now. Ciena attacked first, her
quarterstaff spinning high above her head in a complex and intricate pattern. Her
brother was undaunted, and their weapons met in a starburst of sparks.

Elias brought his left sword in for a counter attack, but Ciena parried him with
another quick spin of her staff. They matched each other stroke for stroke for
several minutes until she landed a hit on his right arm. Elias's sword went flying
out of the dueling circle, and Nahlia and Relic had to jump back to avoid being
hit.
"Don't worry," Relic said with a careless laugh. "The training swords aren't that
sharp."

As if that makes a difference, Nahlia thought. The kitchen knives in her father's
inn weren't always sharp either, but they could still take your finger off if you
weren't careful.

Finally having her brother at a disadvantage, Ciena moved in for a finishing

attack, her quarterstaff spinning even faster than before. Her brother dodged her
strikes and sidestepped her. He cast aside his second sword and grabbed the leather
hilt of his twin's quarterstaff, using his strength to overpower her and twist it
from her arms.

Second later, Ciena was on her back against the stone floor, the tip of her own
staff held to her windpipe.

"Dead." The Battlemaster's voice rang flat and final as he stepped forward to join
them in the

dueling ring. Everyone else had been so caught up in the duel that they hadn't even
noticed Vash standing in the entryway.

Elias helped his twin back to her feet as Vash approached. Despite looking
exhausted and flooded with sweat, both Raiders stood tall and formal as he
addressed them.

"Elias, you're still too slow on your transitions." The Battlemaster illustrated
one of his movements as he spoke. "You'd have lost the fight here in your
transition from Form III to Form VI, if your sister had only bothered to check your
left flank."

Elias gave a respectful nod, and Vash turned to the other twin, his mail armor
clanking as he paced back and forth.

"Ciena, your moves still lack intricacy. Your overuse of Form I is causing you to
fall into predictable patterns. While your brother might've been on the defensive
this time, a more seasoned opponent could've identified this weakness and
sidestepped you. You'd have been in seconds instead of minutes."

The exchange had an easy, methodical feel like it had happened a thousand times
before. Nahlia did her best to take mental notes in preparation for her own combat
training, but she doubted it would do her any good. Where she had seen nothing but
chaos in the duel, Vash had seen a series of individual movements: strikes, parries
and faints. He even saw patterns developing as easily as one might see patterns in
nature or art. The concepts all felt so overwhelming and foreign to her.

When Vash finished critiquing the Raiders, he turned his attention to the entrance
of the room where she and Relic stood waiting.

"And since you're here, I take it you've accepted my niece's offer?"

It took her a moment to realize that the Battlemaster was addressing her this time
"Oh-yes I did."

Ciena took a few steps forward, shooting Relic a suspicious glance. "What offer?"

The Battlemaster disregarded her as he continued. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet
your new clan member, Nahlia Cole. No previous combat experience, but she promises
to be a fast learner. Aside from that, she's received top marks in all her other
entry examinations, and she has actual experience evading the Templars."

Nahlia's face grew suddenly warm as all eyes fell on her. Everyone looked surprised
to hear the news, but Elias hid his shock the best as he stepped forward and
offered her his hand.

"Nice to meet you Nahlia," he said with an easy smile. "I'm Elias Raider."

His hand was still warm from the duel; his pale blue eyes meet hers briefly before
he turned to introduce the rest of Wolfe Clan. "This is Yimo, Marcus, and my sister
Ciena. "

Yimo was exceptionally short. In fact, Nahlia might've mistaken him for a child if
not for the stubble on his face. His sandy-hair fell down to his shoulders, his
eyes a dark shade of gray. Marcus was tall and muscular, with darker skin and a
shaved head like Nahlia's father. And of course, she had already met Ciena.

The other Raider only stared at Nahlia as she met the rest of Wolfe Clan. It was
the kind of stare that a barmaid might give an overly drunk patron. Slightly
annoyed, but mostly indifferent. She cleared her throat and turned to the
Battlemaster. "Master Vash,

if I may..."

"Yes Raider, I've been meaning to speak with you in private." Vash gestured toward
one of the many bedchambers on the edge of the room.

"Well, It's a little late for that, isn't it?" She crossed her arms and snorted
indelicately. "We haven't had a new member in three years, now you dump some first-
year on us without so much as a warning?"

Vash looked like he was about to open his mouth to speak, but Ciena prattled on,
heedless. "We've also been ranked number one in the battlegrounds for three years
straight. We don't need a sixth member-if anything, she would only get in our way."

He let out a sigh and crossed his thick arms. "Alright Raider, since you're so
intent on having this conversation here, I'll just say it. Wolfe Clan won't have
six members; I'm transferring you to Howler Clan."

"Howler Clan?" she echoed with dark incredulity.

"I'm glad to see your ears are still working fine."

"Why the-" As if just realizing whom she was talking to, Ciena cut herself off then
began again. "My brother and I have been in the same clan ever since we came to the
Academy. How could you separate us now?"

"We already talked about this last term," Vash said with no particular inflection.

"No," she exhaled forcefully. "You said that Elias and I needed to be challenged
more. I don't recall you threatening to transfer me to Howler Clan."

"This isn't a punishment, Raider. It would be imprudent to keep the Academy's top
two students together. I don't want you two becoming complacent so close to
graduation."

"Complacent?
We win every game, and we can beat most of the instructors in combat training! What
more do you want from us?"

"I want you to stop relying on each other," he said. "Just a few months from now,
you two will be fighting Templars on the front lines. You could easily be separated
then. Or worse, one of you could be killed in battle. It's better to learn that
lesson now rather than later."

Ciena looked to her brother for help, but Elias only grimaced his helplessness.

Finally she said, "Then why am I the one being transferred and not him?"

"Elias is the captain."

"Only as a formality," she shot back. "I'm just as good as he is."

"I'll be the judge of that," Vash said with an edge to his voice. "Unless you're
also claiming to know my job better than I do?"

As if at a loss for words, Ciena ran a hand through her red and gold hair, leaving
it in disarray.

The Battlemaster arched his eyebrows. "Answer me, Raider."

"No sir," she murmured.

"Good. Then I'll tell Howler Clan to expect you tomorrow morning. That will give
you the rest of the night to pack your things." With that, Vash turned on his heel
and strode out of the room.

Ciena rolled her eyes and stormed off to her bedchambers, slamming the sliding
wooden door behind her.

The room fell completely silent then, and Nahlia turned to look at Relic. "You
didn't know about this, did you?"

"Of course not!" She shook her head. "I had no idea."

"Don't worry about my sister," Elias said.. "The rest of us are happy to have you
here."

"Thanks," she gave him a shy smile, feeling grateful but still awkward. "And I
didn't mean to cause any trouble."

He waved a dismissive hand. "It's not your fault. Vash is right about one thing;
it's not fair to have the two of us together."

Nahlia nodded and turned to look at the closed door of Ciena's bedchamber. So much
for having her our side...

=================

14: The Golden Forest

Nahlia opened her eyes and was dazzled by green and gold. The sun slipped low in
the sky, its form slightly eclipsed by the full moon, giving it the shape of an
upward crescent. Rays of light cascaded down through a forest of solid gold, the
tree's metallic leaves and branches clanking together like wind chimes in the
evening breeze.

Nahlia glanced down and discovered that her snow parka, combat fatigues and fur-
lined boots were gone-replaced with a familiar blue barmaid's dress. That was when
she knew she was dreaming.

Even if it was only a dream, each gust of warm wind was as refreshing as the first
day of spring after a long and cold winter. The cool grass beneath her bare feet
made her feel as content as if she were back home in Northshire.

"Quite an impressive sight, isn't it?" came Thane's low, resonate voice as he
brushed aside a golden branch from his path.

"I've never seen anything like it," Nahlia replied, still glancing around the
forest with wondrous eyes. She wasn't surprised to find him here this time If
anything, she had expected it. The Ethereal never felt so vivid when she was alone.

"Nothing like this exists in the physical world," he added, stepping forward to
join her in the clearing. "No one's ever learned how to turn a forest into solid
gold."

"You're saying someone turned this forest to gold?"

He nodded. "Everything has to be made by someone. In the same way that Aegon the
Great Shaper created the physical world, our race created and shaped the dream
world, and everything in it."

"It must've been a long

time ago," Nahlia mused. "These days everyone is so obsessed with war and
fighting... I can't imagine someone finding the peace of mind to create something
so beautiful."

"True," he agreed. "But this forest was hardly shaped by a peaceful mind. It was a
hundred years ago, when Emperor Palatine was at his strongest. While his influence
and armies were said to rival even the Antarian Empire, his continent also lacked
Valaridor's precious metals."

As he spoke, her eyes wondered down to his partially unbuttoned shirt. There was a
black dragon tattoo on his chest, it reminded her of Elias Raider's red lion
tattoo.

"Palatine spent many years searching his own continent for gold," Thane continued.
"But eventually he gave up, turning his attention from nature to science."

"You mean with alchemy?" Nahlia had read of such sciences before. But as far as she
knew, no alchemist had ever succeeded in turning anything to gold.

Thane nodded at the astuteness of her answer. "One particular alchemist came close;
his name was Sevron Zidane. He was an Aeon who devoted his entire life to the study
of alchemy, all the while draining the emperor's resources. After forty years of
countless experiments and no results, Palatine declared Zidane a failure and had
him imprisoned.
"But even in prison, Zidane's obsession continued. With nothing but time at his
disposal, he began to dream-spending entire days in the Ethereal, a place where he
could build his own reality without restrictions. Zidane didn't just turn metal to
gold, he turned everything to gold."

"So... the Ethereal allows

us to live out our fantasies," Nahlia offered.

"That's one interpretation of the story," he replied. "Of course it's also possible
that the Ethereal opens our eyes to new truths-our own potential, free of all
limitations. After all, Sevron Zidane died of starvation before he woke. If he
hadn't, who's to say he couldn't have accomplished the same thing in the physical
world?"

Everything Thane said seemed to resonate with her, like he was speaking directly
into her mind. It had been the same way in Dreshtae and Northshire. Except the
Ethereal seemed to amplify that resonance, making her even more susceptible to
influence. She had had to be wary of this.

Nahlia cleared her throat. "We're not here to talk about history or philosophy
though, are we?"

"No." Thane smiled. "Sorry, you probably have enough of that in your classes now.
Assuming you've made it to Whitecliff safely?"

She nodded. "I've been here for three days."

He considered that for a moment. "Traveling by mammoth... that puts the Academy at
least fifty miles north of Dreshtae..."

Nahlia had come to the same conclusion. She'd also studied enough maps to know
there was only one mountain range north of Dreshtae that ran north to south. That
gave her a fairly good estimate of Whitecliff's location, but she saw no reason to
share that information with Thane. Not yet, anyway.

"I know you were blindfolded for the journey," he went on, "but were you able to
notice anything else that might be useful?"

"Not so fast." Nahlia crossed her arms, a part of her wishing she looked as
menacing in her barmaid's

dress as she did in her combat fatigues. "I've held up my end of the deal so far. I
infiltrated Whitecliff, and I almost got caught by the White Council."

He grimaced. "What are you talking about?"

"The masters-they interrogated me the second I arrived here. They asked me a bunch
of questions... like if I had been in contact with other Aeons. They might as well
have accused me of working with you."

"I understand," Thane said with a conciliatory nod. "Do you think they know
anything?"

"I can't say for sure," she admitted. "I didn't tell them about you, but they were
definitely suspicious. And I just barely held it together when we talked. If they
find out why I'm really here-"
"You can't think that way Nahlia," he interjected. "They have no proof that we're
working together, or any right to accuse you. Just be patient for now-do your best
to blend in like any other student. I didn't expect you to find out everything in
just a few days."

"And what about you?" she asked. "You still haven't given me any proof that you
intend to help my father." The question came out more direct than she'd planned,
but it was true nonetheless. As far as Nahlia knew, she was the only one putting
herself in danger.

Thane smiled enough to make her lose her composure again. "What-my word isn't good
enough for you anymore?"

"I... didn't say that," she clarified, choosing her words carefully.. "But if you
have a plan, I don't see any harm in sharing it with me. After all, we're in this
together... right?"

"We are in this together," he agreed.

"But information like that could be dangerous, especially if it falls into the
wrong hands."

"You're asking me for information," she retorted. "And the way I see it, you're the
more dangerous one."

"You think I'm dangerous?"

She shrugged. "You have your stories about Aeons and dreams. I've heard some
stories of my own-stories about Aeons who can find strangers in the Ethereal...
even hurt them."

Thane's face became suddenly serious. "I understand your concern Nahlia, but I'm
not going to hurt you. I'd hoped that you would know that by now."

Not going to, or unable to? It was a small difference, but she didn't miss it. Even
so, Nahlia wasn't afraid of Thane, just wary. She was still confident that she
could wake up if she wanted to.

"How would I know that?" Her voice came out softer this time. "Back in Dreshtae you
told me we were surrounded by killers. You've never killed anyone before?"

"Never." Thane shook his head with an air of finality. "Nor do I intend to."

Nahlia regarded him for a moment, and then nodded. "I believe you. But I still want
to know how you plan on helping my father... before I give you any information
about Whitecliff."

Thane let out a sigh of resignation. "Fair enough. It just so happens that I have
taken the first step toward freeing your father. I found a way into Kyroth."

"Really?" She took several steps forward. "What is it?"

"Sometimes... the Templars are willing to cooperate with Aeons if they believe that
it's in their long-term interest to do so. I've offered my services to the

Knight- Commander on Kyroth, and that was enough to get me inside the fortress
without violence."

"So you're deceiving them," she noted. "Is that something you're good at?"
"I'm not deceiving you, if that's what you're implying."

"It's just... suspicious," Nahlia said. "Not only are you cooperating with the
Templars now... but your interests seem to align with theirs perfectly."

"Because we're both trying to find Whitecliff?"

She nodded. "Is that the 'service' you're offering them? The location of the
Academy?"

"Of course not," he snapped. "I may not think highly of Whitecliff, but I despise
the Templars even more. I would never share that kind of information with them. I'm
in Kyroth to complete a mission, and that's it. By the time the Templars realize my
information isn't good, your father and I will be long gone."

There was a short pause. "I want to believe you, but how do I know you're telling
the truth?"

"Because," he said, "if I wanted to lie to you, I wouldn't bother telling you that
I was cooperating with the Templars. I would make up some story that was far more
heroic and far less suspicious. Instead, I told you the truth. Now it's your turn
to share."

So she appeased Thane by filling him in on the events of the past few days. She
told him everything she'd learned about the White Council, the battle clans, the
number of students and instructors, and finally the fact that the Academy was
hidden deep within the mountains with no obvious entrance in sight. However, she
was intentionally vague on its location, using her blindfold as an excuse.

"I've also joined one of the battle clans," she added. "That should help me gather
information faster."

"Good thinking," Thane said. "If we're lucky, that will also help you blend in and
keep the Council off your back."

"I hope so." Nahlia nodded. Having already told Thane everything she knew of
Whitecliff, she attempted to steer the conversation back toward him. "Have you seen
my father in Kyroth? I mean... is he alright?"

Thane nodded. "He's looked better, but he's alive and in still one piece."

Nahlia felt a slight lurch in her stomach as she was reminded of Hector and the
night he died for her in the Moonstone Inn. "Do you think you could give him a
message for me?"

"I can't tell him about our plan," Thane replied. "If someone in Kyroth were to
overhear-"

"I know," she interjected. "I'm not asking you to do that. But the Templars
captured him because he tried to help me escape. The least I can do is tell him
that it wasn't for nothing. Please, just tell that I'm him safe... and that I love
him."

"I'll do my best," Thane said. And he turned to leave, his black cloak billowing in
the wind behind him. "We'll exchange information again in a few days."

"Wait," she called out. "How do you plan on getting my father out?"
He turned around to face her again. "You said it yourself; I'm dangerous."

Thane disappeared into the forest, leaving Nahlia alone in the clearing. This was
the third time she had spoken to the other Aeon, and was still no closer to knowing
who he was or if she could trust him.

The only clue she had was his black dragon tattoo. Elias Raider's tattoo
represented his clan. Perhaps Thane's tattoo served the same purpose? If it did,
Nahlia intended to find it.

=================

15: Half-Blood

Nahlia awoke to darkness and confusion. Thane's face was still fresh in her mind,
along with the eclipsed sun and the golden forest. She could still hear the howl of
the wind, the clanking of metallic leaves, and the sounds of strange birds singing
in the distance.

All of that had vanished now, replaced with the smooth stonewalls of Wolfe Clan's
dormitories. It was a simple room, furnished only with a bunk bed, a wardrobe, a
long desk, and two wooden chairs.

She lay awake for several moments, breathing heavily as she recalled the events of
the dream. Thane is cooperating with the Templars, she remembered. Had this been
his plan form the beginning-to get involved with the very group of people who
killed her mother, who captured her father, and tried to kill her as well?

It was only when she remembered Thane's dragon tattoo that she cast her blankets
aside and sprang out of bed. The room was nearly pitch-black, and she had to fidget
with the dial on the lamp to illuminate the room.

The stone floor burned her bare feet like a cold fire, and she couldn't stop
shivering as she fumbled through her bag for a piece of blank parchment. Even if
she risked waking Relic with the light and the ruckus, this was too important to
wait. Memories from the Ethereal weren't as strong as those perceived by the
physical senses. They were fragile, fading as quickly as abstract thoughts. If she
didn't hurry, she risked losing her only chance at identifying Thane.

Dipping her pen in a bottle of ink, Nahlia drew the black dragon to the best of her
abilities. Although the details were

still fuzzy in her mind, she still remembered the creature's serpent like body, and
how it formed the shape of an "S" inside a perfect circle. Unfortunately, her rough
sketch didn't do the real design justice. Yet there was still an undeniable sense
of power to the image that went beyond mere aesthetic value. It represented
something, she was sure of it.

As she drew, Relic stirred and shifted in the top bunk. "It isn't morning already,
is it?" she asked dubiously.

"I'm not sure." Nahlia instinctively glanced around the room, as if searching for
some sign of daylight. That was before she remembered they were deep underground.
"I'm sorry," she said in a hushed voice. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's fine," Relic murmured as she turned to glance at the clock. "What are you
doing up, anyway?"

When she didn't answer, her roommate wrapped herself in a blanket and made her way
over to the desk, squinting her eyes in the crystal light.

"A dragon?" She seemed more disappointed than surprised. "You woke up early to
draw... a dragon?"

Nahlia paused for a moment, trying think of a reasonable explanation. Nothing came
to mind. "I.... saw it in a dream," she said. "I thought it might mean something."

Relic yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Why would you automatically
assume that an imaginary dragon means something?"

"It was a tattoo," Nahlia said absent-mindedly as she continued working. She was on
her third sketch now, trying hard to get the details and proportions as accurate as
possible.

"Ah. Well that explains it." Relic perked

up, grinning an impish smile. "Do you dream of tattooed men often?"

Nahlia was glad the room was dimly lit; she knew her face was turning red. "I never
said it was a man! How did you know that?"

"I didn't." She chuckled. "Not until now."

Nahlia returned the smile before narrowing her eyes and going back to her drawings.
"Well... yes, it was, but it's not what you think. I just have a feeling that his
tattoo is important." She turned the parchment toward her roommate, allowing her to
get a better look. "Have you ever seen anything like it?"

"Hmmm," Relic said as she leaned over the table, sweeping several strands of black
hair from her face. "I suppose it could be a clan sigil."

"A clan sigil?"

"Here, I'll show you." She lowered her shift to reveal her bare back. The image of
a swirling jade stone sat between her shoulder blades, tattooed in bright green
ink. Like Thane's tattoo, it was encased within a circle.

"That's it!" Nahlia exclaimed. "What does it mean?"

"It represents Clan Vash," she said, practically glowing with pride. "My uncle said
that members of our clan used to display this sigil everywhere, from our flags and
banners, to our clothing and jewelry. Now... small markings like this are all we
have left."

So I was right, the tattoos do represent Aeon clans, Nahlia thought. "Do all Aeon
clans have these? I'm surprised I've never heard of them sigils before."

"Sure you have," Relic said, "How do you think the Templars rounded us up so fast
during the Purge?"

"Of course..." Nahlia mused. "The Antarians were identified by their

sun tattoos as fled Ascalon."

Relic nodded somberly. "Just like the Raiders with their lions, the Alverons with
their burning flames and the Marwyns with their tidal waves. Symbols of pride and
power reduced to simple methods of identifying us."

She nodded in agreement. "And what about dragons?"

"Not that I recall," Relic admitted. "Of course I'm only familiar with Whitecliff's
clan sigils. If you're really serious about identifying this one, you should talk
to Zidane. I studied sigils with him a few terms ago and he's practically obsessed
with them." She gestured back down to the black dragon. "If this is a sigil, I
guarantee he'll recognize it."

Nahlia considered that for a moment. It seemed like a good idea, but she was still
apprehensive about sharing information about Thane with Whitecliff's Masters. Even
if Zidane hadn't participated in her initial interrogation, that didn't mean he
wasn't suspicious of her. What if association with Thane was enough to prove she
was acting as a spy?

"I don't know," she said. "Are you sure he won't find that... strange?"

"He's the Academy's Chronicler." Relic laughed. "Answering questions about history
is his job. I have to stop by his office today anyway. We can go together if you
want."

"All right, thanks," Nahlia said, carefully rolling up the parchment and placing it
inside her bag.

"Great." Relic sprang to her feel and opened the wardrobe. "Since we're up, we
might as well get dressed. We have to be in the Gorge soon anyway."

Now that she was in a battleground clan, Nahlia was required to wear the clan
battledress to all

physical training exercises. Relic gave her set of dark gray anorak and trousers,
lined and trimmed with light gray fur. The gloves, boots and belt were gray as
well, a supple leather, stiff enough that knew they'd hardly been worn. After they
dressed, they met the rest of Wolfe Clan in the common room and headed down to the
Gorge together.

The obstacle course turned out to be even more brutal than before. Every muscle in
her body was stiff and sore from the previous day, each one complaining as she ran,
practically begging her to stop pushing herself so hard. To make matters worse,
members of the rival clans were deliberately sabotaging her efforts now.

A boy from Howler Clan-even larger and more muscular than her father-shoved her
hard into one of the canyon walls. If it weren't for her new gloves, she would have
definitely skinned her hands when she caught herself. Unfortunately Nahlia's own
clan was too far ahead in the race to notice, much less help her.

No one delighted in her failures more than Ciena Raider, who had made an obvious
effort to wait at the end of the canyon for her.

"Wow," she said in feigned astonishment. "Never thought I'd see the day when a
member of Wolfe Clan finished last."

"Shut up Ciena." Relic took Nahlia by the arm and steered her away from the other
clans. "It's her second day, give her a break."
"Of course... you're right," Ciena said meekly. "Let's just ignore the fact that we
were all faster at ten years old. I suppose it isn't really fair to compare Aeons
and half-bloods, after all."

Still catching her breath,

Nahlia was content to ignore the other girl's insults.

But Relic rose to the bait, whipping around to face her former clan member.

"We get it, Ciena. You're still mad about being transferred. But this isn't her
fault. Incase you forgot, my uncle is the one who transferred you."

"Oh right, your uncle. The one who always gives his beloved niece whatever her
heart desires."

"Are you crazy?" Relic snapped. "Now you think I wanted you gone?"

Their confrontation was drawing quite the crowd now. At least a dozen people from
others clans, all hovering around them like vultures waiting for a fight to ensue.

"I'm not an idiot," Ciena said. "I saw you two conspiring yesterday in the mess
hall. I knew you were plotting to replace me then, and my suspicions were confirmed
when you came marching down to our dormitory with her."

"Recruiting Nahlia had nothing to do with you getting transferred!" Relic shot
back. "I have nothing against you Ciena. And I swear, I had no idea my uncle
planned on transferring you. If I did, I would've warned you first."

"Please, spare me the innocent act." Ciena held up a gloved hand to silence her.
"We both know you've wanted me gone ever since you started whoring yourself out to
my brother last term."

This earned quite a reaction from the crowd. Relic didn't have a retort, but the
expression on her face told Nahlia that it was true.

"And don't bother denying that one either," Ciena went on. "The walls in our
dormitory may be solid stone, but they aren't nearly thick enough to-"

"Stop it!" Nahlia interjected,

stepping forward to Relic's side. It wasn't like her to engage in these sort of
petty arguments, but Relic was her only friend in Whitecliff. She couldn't stand by
and do nothing.

"Relic's telling the truth; she only offered me a spot in Wolfe Clan because she
thought there was an opening. No one meant for you to be transferred."

"Is that what she told you? Well if that's the case, half-blood's are even slower
than I thought."

"And stop calling me 'half-blood.'" Nahlia narrowed her eyes at her. "There isn't a
single Aeon alive without human blood in their veins."

"True," Ciena replied. "But some of us are the daughters of highborn lords and
ladies. You're not. We already know your father was a human. What does that make
your mother then? Some Aeon whore?"

Nahlia gritted her teeth. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
Ciena made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a snort. "Don't I? Then
enlighten us. What's your mother's clan name?"

Nahlia opened her mouth, and then closed it. She never knew her mother's maiden
name; she only knew her as Lyanna Cole.

There was a short pause, then a look of triumph crossed the other girl's face.
"See? That's what I thought."

"I was only three when she died," Nahlia said. "But just because I didn't know her
clan name doesn't mean she didn't have one. And it certainly doesn't make me less
of an Aeon than you, or anyone else here.."

"Maybe not," Ciena said with a shrug. "No use arguing about it now, I suppose.
Words are so dull anyway." She strode over to a nearby snow bank where her
quarterstaff was lodged, pulled it out, then began twirling it in a series of quick
and intricate movements, its steel blades whistled as it cut through the air.

"As I'm sure you already know, our ancestors considered battle to be the purest
form of expression. Pick up a sword half-blood, and we'll find out what you're
really made of."

Relic sighed. "Really, Ciena? You know she has no combat experience."

"No clan name... no combat experience...and no use to anyone." Ciena looked at her
with all the menace of a poised cobra. "Yet someone saw fit to place you in the top
battleground clan. Why?"

"Enough! All of you." Master Vash's voice called out from the top of the stone
staircase. He sounded more annoyed than angry. "The next person who opens their
mouth can spend the rest of the morning cleaning out the armory."

The crowd scattered, but Ciena smiled the second the Battlemaster turned his back.
Then she spoke just barely above a whisper. "I guess we'll just have to wait until
the battlegrounds then. No matter. I've already waited my whole life to fight a
human. I can wait another week or two."

Then she turned around, following the rest of the students back up the staircase
toward Whitecliff's main courtyard.

And for the first time, Nahlia seriously questioned her decision to join a
battleground clan.

=================

16: Black Dragons and Silver Moons

Nahlia followed Relic back up the stairs toward the mess hall, Ciena Raider's words
still haunting her as she prodded along.

Half-blood, she called her. Nahlia hadn't even heard the term before coming to
Whitecliff, but anyone who studied Aeon lore knew that the last 'pure-blooded'
Aeons lived thousands of years ago. Today, every living Aeon had human blood
flowing in their veins, so what was the point of bringing it up?

No clan name, no combat experience, no use to anyone. Her palms were sweating
beneath her leather gloves, clenching into fists with each echo of Ciena's words.
Nahlia gritted her teeth, pushing the thoughts away in her mind. She was done being
perceived as weak and inadequate by everyone around her. It was bad enough running
from the Templars-watching idly as they killed and captured the people she cared
about. She wasn't about to run from Ciena too.

No, sometimes violence can only be met with violence.

"When do I start my combat training?" she asked Relic as they walked, doing her
best to sound nonchalant.

"Tomorrow," she replied, her eyes suddenly round and serious. "But listen... Ciena
Raider isn't someone you want to get on the bad side of. You do realize that,
right?"

"It sounds like I was born on her bad side," Nahlia retorted. "Does everyone in
this school hate me for being born half-human, or is it just her?"

"No one hates you," Relic said quickly. "Ciena's just a heartless bitch who will
say whatever she can to hurt people."

Nahlia nodded in agreement, then bowed her

head against the rain and the wind.

Another long silence passed before Relic spoke again. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry,
but... you really don't know your mother's clan name?"

Nahlia shook her head. "I'm sure my father knew, but I never thought to ask him
about it. Besides, he always said the less we talked about Aeons, the safer we
were."

"Hard to argue with that logic when he kept you safe for so many years," Relic
offered.

"And for what it's worth, my uncle told me that Lady Raider had an agent
permanently stationed in Northshire where you lived. She wouldn't have done that if
your mother weren't highborn.

"Thanks." Nahlia smiled. Of course she already knew her mother was highborn, but
she still appreciated Relic's efforts to cheer her up. She didn't have many friends
in Northshire, and it felt good to have someone who she could talk to.

"But you need to trust me when I say this," Relic continued. "Whatever happens,
don't try to fight Ciena Raider. She's more than just insults and empty threats-
she's dangerous. I've never seen her lose a duel to anyone besides her brother."

"And if I don't have a choice?" Nahlia asked.

"That wont happen," she explained. "Students aren't allowed to attack each other
without first agreeing to a duel. Duels can only happen in designated areas, and
they required multiple witnesses. The last time students broke that protocol, they
were banned from the battlegrounds and sentenced to a month of manual labor."

Nahlia felt slightly better at this, realizing that she was never in any real
danger. At least not
until the battlegrounds, but that was also a spectator event.

"So..." Relic prompted. "Promise me that you wont go out of your way to fight her,
all right?"

"Of course I wont," she said earnestly.

Nahlia may have been no match for Ciena now, but it was only a matter of time until
she learned how to fight. She'd read hundreds of stories about young Aeons who grew
up as farmers with no combat experience and went on to become some of the most
powerful Aeons in history-defeating dragons, emperor's and Dark Aeons. If they
could achieve that much, who's to say she couldn't become strong enough to defeat
Ciena Raider?

***

Thankfully, her other lessons that day proved to be far less eventful than her
heated confrontation in the Gorge. Logic and Rhetoric with Master Vaulder was
nothing new to her. Unlike History, this was a subject in which humans and Aeons
actually agreed upon. They spent the hour going over the classical argument forms
and the primary logical fallacies-material that her current education was more than
sufficient to keep her from getting lost.

After lunch, she had Master Vash again for The Study of Warcraft. Despite her
general distaste for the Battlemaster, Nahlia found this subject to be especially
enlightening. She learned a great deal more about the Templar Order. Including
their training regimens, the weapons and armor they donned, and the strategies and
tactics they used to hunt down Aeons.

Everything Vash said about the Templars seemed to align with her own experiences,
especially the Order's tendency to manipulate people by threatening

their family members in exchange for information and services. Nahlia had already
witnessed that happen twice in Northshire, and apparently Vash had seen it happen
countless times during his years as a Seeker.

Vash's class ended at noon, giving her at least an hour until her next lesson.
Nahlia took the opportunity to visit Master Zidane about the mysterious dragon
sigil.

The Master's offices sat on the sixth floor of the Main Hall, just below the White
Council chamber. Most of the doors were closed since the other Master's were off
teaching classes. Fortunately, the Chronicler's door was ajar when she found it.
Nahlia peaked inside to find him reading by the light of a dozen candles.

She knocked on the door's walnut frame, and Zidane's eyes darted up from his book.

"Ah, Nahlia Cole... the infamous troublemaker from my history lesson."

Her face grew suddenly hot as she remembered the argument she'd caused the previous
day. "I'm so sorry about that, Master Zidane! I never meant to-"

"I'm only joking." Zidane smiled and made a placating gesture. "My apologies, I
often forget you westerners aren't big on humor. Please, come in."

Nahlia returned his smile and stepped inside. The Chronicler's office was large and
richly appointed. A huge intricate window dominated one of the circular walls,
offering a view of the courtyard and the snow-covered mountains beyond. Every wall
and surface was covered with books, maps and old charts.

"If anything, I should thank you," Zidane told her. "Yesterday's lesson was by far
the most interesting we've had all term.

You have no idea how difficult it is to get people your age interested in history.
And here you are, not only interested in history, but questioning it, starting
heated debates."

"Well, the last part was unintentional." Nahlia let out a small laugh as she sat
down opposite the Chronicler. "The last thing I wanted to do was make enemies
here."

"Mmm..." Zidane nodded and braced his black bearded chin. "But such conflicts are
important. They're the first step in discerning the fact from the fiction-the
history from the mythology. There are vast amounts of knowledge and wisdom in the
past, some which has yet to be uncovered. Yet the younger generation would rather
beat each other with sticks-it baffles me. "

"I couldn't agree more," Nahlia said, and she used the opportunity to unroll her
parchment. "In fact, I found this image in the Archives last night. I hoped you
could help me identify it?"

"Of course," Zidane said at once. "This is the sigil of Clan Spectre."

Nahlia knew the name well. The Spectres were one of the richest and most powerful
clans in existence. Not only had Lord Spectre remained unaffected by the Purge, he
had one of the richest crystal mines in all of Valaridor. On top of that, he was
waging a cold war against Ascalon and the Templars.

But this couldn't be Thane's clan. He explicitly told her was born to a lesser
clan-more concerned with preventing wars than starting them. How could this be?

"Are you sure?" She couldn't hide her incredulity.

"Am I sure that Clan Spectre's sigil is a dragon?" He smiled. "Their palace is
called

Dragonshard. It doesn't take a historian like myself to put those two together. But
here, if you require further evidence..."

Zidane walked over to his bookshelf and removed a heavy, leather-bound book. He
cracked it open, and a storm of dust motes flew out, dancing and weaving in the
afternoon light.

Flipping through the pages, he made his way back to the desk and set it down in
front of her. The top of the page read, 'Spectre', and the black dragon bore an
uncanny resemblance to both her drawing and Thane's tattoo. She continued reading
and discovered that the current Lord of Dragonshard was Thanatos Spectre. His wife,
Evelyn Spectre, was deceased. And he had two living children: Thane Spectre and
Ashara Spectre.

So it's true. Thane is the heir to Dragonshard. He lied to her about being from a
lesser clan, which meant that nothing he said could be trusted. Even so, she didn't
understand what Thane wanted with Whitecliff. Surely this had nothing to do with
preventing a war-not when his own family was already waging one against the
Templars.

It wasn't until she looked up from the book that she saw Zidane waiting for a
response. "I guess I should have made the connection sooner," she admitted.

The Chronicler waved a dismissive hand. "I wouldn't expect any student born in the
last twenty years to recognize that sigil. Signs of heraldry aren't flaunted about
the way they used to be."

"Because of the Purge," Nahlia offered.

"Quite right. Yet the old traditions still live on, but with more subtlety than
before. The boldest of our kind may tattoo

or brand themselves permanently as a promise to never deny who they are. Others,
like you and me, are more cautious still."

Zidane held up his right ring finger to show her a band of pale gold and ebony with
the face of a roaring tiger carved in its head.

"I still keep the sigil my clan close, just as you do." He gestured down to her
blue sapphire necklace.

"Oh no," Nahlia shook her head, raising a hand to cradle her mother's necklace.
"This is just an old family heirloom. It's not meant to represent my clan."

"I beg to differ," Zidane reached his long fingers across the table, indicating a
crescent moon carved at the bottom of the necklace's silver frame. "The sigil of
Clan Trevelyan is a silver moon on a sapphire field. And your mother was Lyanna
Trevelyan, was she not?"

Trevelyan.... so that was her clan name. Hearing it filled Nahlia with warmth and
realization. Her palms were sweating again, and her stomach was full of doves. She
faintly recalled hearing the name somewhere before, but the memory escaped her now-
lost in her cloud of newfound joy.

I never knew Trevelyan was her clan name," she admitted. "I only knew my mother as
Lyanna Cole."

"Indeed? Zidane raised his eyebrows. "Your father never told you?"

Nahlia shook her head, smiling sadly "We rarely spoke of their lives before I was
born."

"Yes, of course." Zidane gave her an understanding nod. "Things were difficult for
your parents during the war. Two turncloaks with a half-blood daughter-there was no
place for them on either side after the war. I suppose it made the most sense to
put their old lives

behind and look forward."

Nahlia nodded in agreement "And they never told me I was a Trevelyan because they
thought it wouldn't matter. They never intended for me to end up in a place like
this."

"No," Zidane said, "I don't believe they did. Even so, Clan Trevelyan is an old
bloodline, and a name to be proud of. Your ancestors were the Headmasters of this
Academy for several generations. Your mother may very well have succeeded him if
she hadn't ran off to war and met your father."

That was when Nahlia remembered where she'd heard the name. Sara Trevelyan was the
girl Relic told her about, the girl who was murdered by another Aeon in the
Ethereal. That girl was her ancestor!

She had spoken to Zidane expected to find a connection between Thane and Sara
Trevelyan's murderer. But what if such a connection didn't exist? Sara Trevelyan
was her ancestor, and now they'd both communicated with outsiders who were
searching for Whitecliff. That couldn't be a coincidence.

The bells rang across the courtyard rang, and Nahlia moved to stand up, grabbing
her drawing from the desk. "I should get going, I have another class today. But
thank you so much, Master Zidane... for everything."

"Just a moment," Zidane placed two long fingers on the parchment, halting its
movement. "Before you go, we should talk about where you really saw this sigil."

Nahlia's smile faded, and she felt as though the bottom had dropped from her
stomach.

"You claim to have seen this in the Archives last night, but your name isn't in my
ledger." Zidane indicated an open book on his desk.

"Oh-I umm..." she scrambled for an excuse. At least a dozen came to mind, but each
one sounded more desperate than the last. And she knew that having Zidane catch her
in a second lie would only make the situation worse.

"Don't worry," he said. "I won't tell anyone. But you need to be more cautious,
Nahlia. If Vash or Alveron had seen this, they'd be conspiring to put you in a cell
right now.

Nahlia swallowed hard; curiosity reducing her fear to a manageable level. "I take
it we're not allies with Clan Spectre then?"

"You're correct," Zidane said. "Dragonshard has their own separate Aeon academy in
the South. Their ways of thinking are quite different than our own, and they've
been interested in finding our location for quite some time."

Nahlia nodded somberly. "And the rest of the Council thinks I'm working with them."

"It's more than mere suspicion," he said. "Vash and Alveron are convinced. As I
told you before, the only thing they're missing is evidence." Zidane took her
drawing and held it over one of his many candles, letting the bottom catch fire.

Nahlia took a deep shuddering breath, watching the edges of the parchment blacken
and burn until nothing but ashes remained.

"Do what you will with this information," Zidane said, "but I'd advise you not to
mention Clan Spectre to anyone else. Not even your fellow students. Whitecliff
isn't as large as it seems, and words travel like the wind."

=================

17: The Lioness of Raidenwood

Ciena stepped inside her new common room to find the rest of Howler Clan lounging
around an empty dueling ring. Instead of training, the five of them simply laughed,
gambled and passed the time with several bottles of wine.
Is this all they do with their free time? Ciena thought. No wonder we've beaten
these fools for three years straight.

They studiously ignored her as she passed. It had been this way ever since she
arrived in Howler Clan the night before. Though they trained together in all
official clan activities, it was as if she didn't exist.

They're obviously jealous, Ciena told herself. Even if her glory days in Wolfe Clan
were over, she was still one of the top duelists in the entire school. Her family
was also wealthy and influential-direct decedents of Raiden, the Aeon of strength
and fortitude.

Few others in the academy had blood as pure as hers. And no one-not even her
brother- trained as hard as she did. Why wouldn't they be jealous of her?

Ciena ate alone for most of the day too, always claiming a small table in the
corner of the mess hall. It was safe to assume no one would join her. Most of
Whitecliff already despised her, and now even Wolfe Clan had turned against her.

"You know... you're still welcome to eat with us," her brother said earlier that
evening as he passed by. "You were transferred, not banished."

Ciena turned and narrowed her eyes toward Wolfe Clan's usual table. Nahlia and
Relic sat there giggling like the shallow, idiotic children they were.

Talking about her, no doubt.

"I'll pass," she said, leaning her chair against the brick wall. "I prefer a seat
where no one can stab me in the back."

"You're still on about that?" Elias sighed as he fell into the chair across from
her. "You don't know that anyone stabbed you in the back. Vash had a good enough
excuse for separating us."

"Seriously?" Ciena rolled her eyes. "I guarantee you wouldn't be taking Relic's
side if you weren't sleeping with her."

"Enough of that," he said. "I'm not taking anyone's side. In fact, I'm not getting
involved at all."

"Fine." She shrugged. "But you can't ignore the facts. In all the years we've known
Relic Vash, have you ever known her to take any initiative when it comes to new
recruits?"

"No," he admitted.

"And now here she is going around the school... befriending stray half-bloods and
bringing them home." Ciena pointed an accusing finger in Nahlia's direction. "Aegon
above, just look at that girl. She doesn't belong in a battleground clan. She would
never have thought to join if Relic hadn't convinced her."

Elias seemed to consider that for a moment. "Maybe not."

"And Vash would never have considered putting her in Wolfe Clan if Relic hadn't
asked him,' she continued. "If we can agree on that, I think it's also fair to
assume that Relic played a role in me getting transferred."
"Sounds like false causality to me," Elias said, shaking his head. "And you're
crazy if you think Relic wanted you gone. Why would she sabotage her own clan right
before the opening tournament?"

"What

other possibility is there?" Ciena shot back. "What other reason could she have for
recruiting the half-blood if not to get rid of me?"

There was a short pause before Elias spoke up again. "Even if you're right, there's
nothing we can do about it now. Vash already transferred you, and we only have one
more year until we graduate. Might as well make the best of it."

"Oh-I intend to," Ciena said, stabbing a piece of meat with her fork. "I'll show
everyone what happens to people who defy me. Wolfe Clan's nothing without both of
us together. Now that we're separated, I see no reason why Howler Clan can't beat
you in the opening tournament."

Elias grinned. "You really think you can beat me, huh?"

She returned his smile. "Dear brother... I know all your strengths and all your
weaknesses. Every tactic and strategy Wolfe Clan has ever used. I know I can beat
you."

She spent the rest of the evening training in the Gorge. It was a perfect night. A
thin blanket of snow covered the valley floor while the sky above was cloudless and
speckled with stars.

As always, it turned out to be the perfect way to clear her head and realize what
needed to be done. Howler Clan may not have been in position to win now, but it
would be soon enough.

Back in her bedchamber, Ciena stripped out of her brown battleground garbs and
changed into a pair of form-fitting leather dueling fatigues. Unlike her official
clan battledress, these were custom made-black leather with red trim. The arms were
left bare, and there was a circular opening between her shoulder blades

that revealed her lion tattoo.

She pulled on her leather combat boots and walked across the room where her two
weapons leaned against the chamber wall. These were custom made as well, gifts from
her parents.

The first was her training quarterstaff, solid steel with blunted blades. Crafted
by the top smithies in Dreshtae, It was far lighter than the clumsy training blades
provided by the academy.

The second was a true masterpiece; her father's old weapon from the days he served
in Emperor Antares's Honor Guard. The double-bladed sword had a grip in the center
with two long blades emerging from either end. The steel was over two hundred years
old, forged in Ascalon and strengthened by dragon fire. A thin layer of gold
covered each blade while the hilt was dark crimson leather.

Unfortunately, Ciena couldn't use the latter against Howler Clan's captain. In
fact, she had never fought anyone with this staff before. Sharpened blades were
prohibited in duels between students. Even so, she held it every night before bed,
imagining herself to be as strong and fierce as her father, avenging those she had
lost in Raidenwood, longing for the day when the blade could taste Templar blood
again.
Ciena picked up her training staff and began applying the Yuchani poison with a
white linen cloth. This was standard procedure before all duels and battlegrounds.
A direct hit with a poisoned blade caused temporary paralysis at the point of
infection, leaving any limb struck all but useless. This provided an excellent way
to mimic the effects of losing a limb in an actual fight with no long-term

damage.

When she returned to the common room, the rest of Howler Clan sat right where she
had left them, laughing and drinking together without a single care in the world.

She casually stepped into the dueling circle and the laughter ceased almost
immediately. They all turned to face her, their expressions ranging from indignant
to hostile.

Kalak Demeron broke the silence first. Howler Clan's commander was built like a
tower, with close-cut brown hair and a neatly groomed beard. "Can I help you with
something, Raider?"

Ciena took a deep breath, "Yes, as a matter of fact-"

"Sorry," he interjected. "That was a rhetorical question. What I meant to say was
piss off."

This earned him a laugh from his comrades. Their eager, drunken eyes wandered back
and forth between him and Ciena.

Ciena remained unfazed; she had expected this. "As I was saying... I'd like to go
up against Wolfe Clan for the first round of the tournament."

"You know," Kalak continued as if she hadn't said anything. "When I said I wanted a
girl in my clan, I was hoping for one a little less..." He pointed at her for a
moment, searching for the word.

No one spoke, though they all shared a nod of agreement, followed by a knowing
laugh at her expense. Of course Ciena know exactly what they were thinking; she
wasn't delicate or beautiful like the other girls in the academy. She was taller
than half of the men here, and stronger than many of them too. As a result, no one
ever looked at her the way they looked at girls like Relic Vash. Everyone knew it,
though no one had dared say

it to her face until now.

Ciena seethed, clenching her quarterstaff. "Are you quite finished?"

Kalak's face hardened. "Look Raider-whatever it is you want, I'm not helping you.
You may strut around this school like you own the place, but you're in my clan now.
And in my clan, you follow my orders."

"Well then," Ciena stood slightly taller and more formal. "We can settle this
easily enough. Kalak Demeron, I hereby challenge you for the position of Howler
Clan Commander."

Kalak looked incredulous. He seemed to notice her quarterstaff for the first time.
"What? Now?"

"Why not?" She shrugged. "The rules clearly state that anyone can challenge the
commander with a simple duel. If you refuse, you automatically forfeit. The only
exceptions being-"

"Yes, yes," Kalak interjected. "I'm familiar with the rules, Raider."

She crossed her arms. "Well?"

"I've been drinking," he said, indicating the nearly empty bottle of wine at his
feet. "I'd say that qualifies as temporary incapacitation. We can duel tomorrow
afternoon."

Ciena stifled a laugh. "I thought you said you knew the rules, Commander. You
see... I've already spoken the Battlemaster. He said the Templars wont wait around
for you to sober up, and neither should I."

Of course Master Vash had said no such thing, but she could imagine him saying that
easily enough. Students may have been allowed to drink in the academy, but it far
from encouraged by the masters. They wouldn't have any sympathy for him.

Kalak leaned back in his seat, studying

her the way one might study a venomous snake. "So that's your plan... challenge me
while I'm drunk so you can even the odds?"

"Hardly," Ciena snorted indelicately. Then she stepped forward, picking up the
bottle of wine and finishing off the last few glasses worth. The purple liquid
burned her throat as it went down. She didn't drink often, and this tasted far
stronger than anything she was accustomed to.

Ciena didn't let her surprise show. She only smiled as she set the empty bottle
back down on the stone floor. "There, are we even now? If not, feel free pair up; I
could take on all of you without breaking a sweat."

"Fine, have it your way." Kalak returned her smile and left to retrieve his own
weapon. He returned a moment later carrying a two-handed long sword.

As always, the contestants bowed to one another before assuming their ready
positions. As he rose, Kalak's stance shifted to Form VII, a powerful and
aggressive form used for dispatching weaker opponents quickly and efficiently

Ciena didn't let herself be intimidated. Kalak may have been stronger than her, but
so was Elias. That strength was meaningless so long as he didn't land a hit on her.

Several heartbeats passed, then Kalak leapt forward, opening the melee with a
series of powerful attacks. He was aggressive, but it was nothing she couldn't
handle.

She blocked Kalak's flurry and countered with one of her own, spinning her
quarterstaff in one of her signature katas, attacking with both blades at once. She
didn't score any hits, but she did force him to take several steps back.

The

other Aeon reacted by leaping high
VII to lash down at her. Ciena was
defense. She parried Kalak's heavy
to safety. The battle continued in
her quarterstaff, it begun to feel
in the air, using the powerful strikes of Form
ready, switching quickly from offense to
blade, ducking out of the way and rolling clear
the familiar rhythm of combat, but as she spun
softer... more distant.
It was the wine-it was affecting far stronger than she imagined. To make matters
worse, Kalak wasn't nearly as drunk as he seemed. It was all a ruse.

Their blades clashed again, and Kalak took the opportunity to kick her hard in the
shin, causing her to stumble back. Ciena wanted to cry out in pain, to collapse on
the stone floor... but no, she couldn't show any weakness. Kalak had had her at a
disadvantage; she couldn't give him the courage he needed to finish her.

Instead, Ciena gritted her teeth, gripped the hilt of her staff for strength and
let her lips curl into a smile.

Kalak moved in for another wave of attacks. Now at a distance, Ciena realized that
this flurry was nearly identical to the first. Kalak was falling into the same
predictable patterns and sequences, just as Master Vash had criticized her for the
day before.

Every sequence began with an uppercut, then an angled cut, followed by a wide
sweep. While there were a hundred variations of this same pattern, he always left
his left flank exposed between the second and third attack. And these transitions
grew even less elegant as the fight drew on.

I can finish him, she thought. Just a little longer.

Ciena blocked his flurry again, and then went on the defensive, waiting for the
pattern to repeat itself.

Her patience was rewarded a few seconds later. Kalak began his familiar pattern
again and Ciena swung her staff to the expected opening. In the blink of an eye she
knocked the long sword from Kalak's hands, then spun through and brought her staff
hard into his back, paralyzing his entire body with the Yuchani poison.

For a brief moment none of the spectators even realized what happened; it took
their minds a moment to catch up and register the blur of action.

Ciena casually strode over to where Kalak lay on the cold stone floor. She held her
quarterstaff to his throat.

Howler Clan's former commander exhaled sharply. "I... surrender."

Ciena looked up to face the spectators. She had to wipe the sweat and tears from
her eyes to see them nodding their understanding,

"Good..." Ciena said, taking a long moment to gather her breath. "Now that I'm
commander, there are going to be some changes around here. First, we will run the
Gorge every night after dinner. We'll also practice our dueling in the evening
before anyone starts drinking.

"Like Kalak said before: in this clan, we follow orders. If anyone has a problem
with those rules, you can leave." Wearily, she used her quarterstaff to indicate
the exit.

"But for those of you who choose to stay, you should know that we're going up
against Wolfe Clan in one week from now. If we win, we'll be the top ranked battle
clan in the Academy. And make no mistake.... we are going to win."

=================
18: Master of Dreams

The Archives went on forever. Thousands of old books, tablets, and scrolls, all
scattered throughout a labyrinth of towering shelves. Like most of lower
Whitecliff, the chambers were cylinder shaped and well lit with the ever-glowing
light of crystal shard lamps. The architecture was old and intricate, with massive
stone arches stretching out into vast domed ceilings.

The first three floors encompassed the main stacks, containing all the essential
materials Whitecliff's students needed for their day-to-day studies. Everything
from history and mythology, to mathematics, chemistry, astronomy and medicine.

Nahlia came here alone while the rest of Wolfe Clan returned to their dormitory for
the evening. While she enjoyed the company of her new clan, they were often
frivolous and carefree, their biggest concerns being class examinations and
battleground tournaments. It was hard to share such sentiments when the Templars
had her father locked away in Kyroth.

To make matters worse, Thane could no longer be trusted. If he lied to her about
his identity, he could be lying about everything-including his promise to free her
father. That thought alone terrified her. What if she and her father meant nothing
to him? What if they were mere pawns in his game-expendable pieces in Clan
Spectre's greater quest for power?

She had no intention of waiting to find out, so she searched the forest of books
for any information she could find on Clan Spectre, Clan Trevelyan, or the
Ethereal. Anything that kept her mind busy and give her a greater sense of purpose.

Nahlia started on the upper

levels, wandering through the various sections, picking up anything that looked
relevant. She learned more about her mother's clan in a book called The Great Aeon
Clans of the Twenty-Seventh Century by Atreus Trevelyan. While she found the
content informative, the writing was rather dense, so she quickly moved on.

The Fall of the Antarian Empire provided an in-depth analysis of the Purge,
including Nathanial Mason's death and the burning of Idemre. To her dismay, this
account bore an uncanny resemblance to Master Zidane's class lecture the day
before. This wasn't surprising when she closed the book and saw that the author
was, in fact, Master Zidane.

Nahlia sighed and stood up from her reading table. She should have known this would
be harder than finding a dusty old book full of answers. But even if history was a
dead-end, there must be something in the Archives about the Ethereal.

She was strolling past the scribes' desks when someone called her name. "Nahlia?"

She turned around and saw Yimo, a member of Wolfe Clan whom she'd hardly spoken to.
"Oh... Hi." She managed an awkward smile and tried to think of something to say. "I
didn't know you worked down here."

"A few nights a week." He shrugged. "Not everyone has rich parents like the
Raiders, so it never hurts to have some extra spending money."

Nahlia nodded in agreement. While the Academy provided all the basic essentials
like food and clothing, the quartermasters charged for everything beyond that. In
fact, it had been the Raiders who gave her money for paper and ink.

"So what brings you down

here?" Yimo asked, indicating the tower of books on her reading table. "Looks like
you have Zidane for all your classes this term."

"Not exactly," she smiled and shook her head. "I'm just trying to be proactive I
suppose."

"Anything I can help you find?" Yimo asked as he moved to stand up. "This place can
be confusing if you don't know where to look."

"Well..." Nahlia hesitated, then she looked at the clock hanging on the chamber's
smooth stonewall. It was getting late and she didn't want to spend the rest of the
evening wandering around aimlessly. "I'm actually looking for books on the
Ethereal."

"I can help with that," Yimo said with a brisk nod. "What's the context?
Historical, mythological, metaphysical?"

"Everything," she said at once. It all sounded equally promising.

"Everything?" Yimo arched his thin, blond eyebrows.

Nahlia bit her lip. She had almost forgotten that most of Whitecliff's students
didn't share her love of reading. "I've spent my whole life among humans," she
explained. "Dreams are still somewhat of a mystery to me. I want to learn all I
can."

He nodded again, apparently satisfied by her answer. "All right then, follow me."

Yimo hopped down from his stool and led her back into the maze of shelves. Despite
being half her size, the tiny Aeon moved at a brisk pace and Nahlia practically had
to jog to keep up with him.

He stopped at the base of a stack and pointed his small finger upward. "There, five
shelves up. The bright blue one."

Nahlia reached up and grabbed a book titled Communication in the Ethereal by

Galderon Kahn,

Master of Dreams. Finally, something promising!

This went on for several more minutes, Yimo grabbing the books off the lower
shelves, and pointed out the higher ones for Nahlia. Other books were so high up
that they had to use a ladder to reach them. Thankfully, Nahlia wasn't afraid of
heights, provided no one was shooting at her with crossbows.

By the time she returned to her reading table, she had accumulated a pile of over a
dozen books, all from different sections.

Nahlia flared with excitement as she cracked open Communication in the Ethereal.
Its spine was stiff, like it hadn't been opened for many years. That seemed like a
good sign, considering she was searching for rare information.

However, after reading the first few chapters, she became just as disappointed as
she had been with the history books. Everything aligned perfectly with what
Cassandra Raider had told her a week ago: communication in the Ethereal always
required two willing participants to focus their minds on a specific location.

Even then, dreamers had their own "versions" of locations based off their own
unique memories and thought language. This was why communication was so difficult,
and why dreamers had to spend weeks developing a bond.

Still, Nahlia kept reading. It may not have been the gold mine of information she
hoped for, but it was something. As the hours went by, the Archives emptied of both
students and scribes. Midnight had come and gone, but she still wasn't ready to
return to Wolfe Clan's dormitory. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was still
too anxious

for sleep. Perhaps it was time to find out just how deep the Archives went.

Somewhere on the bottom level of the main stacks, Nahlia found a closed wooden
door, and a spiral staircase that went even deeper underground. There were far
fewer lamps down here, and they were of lower quality, glowing a deep royal blue
that made it harder to see. For some strange reason, the air here was warmer down
here as well.

After a few minutes of walking, Nahlia realized how vast and chaotic the lower
levels were. If the upper stacks were a forest, this was an ocean in a storm.
Everything looked like the same; towering bookshelves and narrow alleyways in every
direction.

"Let's go exploring in the middle of the night," she muttered to herself.

"Brilliant idea, Nahlia."

Exhausted, and with no hope of finding the way she came, Nahlia plunked herself
down in a cushioned reading chair. She curled up under her cloak, and sleep took
her by surprise, just as it had every night since she left home.

***

She didn't dream of Thane. That was good. She needed time to process everything
she'd learned about him before they spoke again. A short time passed, though she
couldn't say how long, then she heard a masculine voice calling out to her.

"Nahlia... Nahlia, wake up."

She opened her eyes drowsily and it took her a moment recognize her waker as Elias
Raider. After her earlier encounters with his twin sister, Nahlia wasn't exactly
happy to see him here.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Nahlia nodded. "I'm fine. I just got a little lost." She sat up and

adjusted her hair, making sure it wasn't in complete disarray.

"I figured," he said. "When you didn't come back to the dorms tonight, I went
looking for you. Yimo said he last saw you here in the Archives."

"Oh," she murmured, "I'm sorry for the trouble. I didn't know we weren't supposed
to stay out late."

"It's all right," he replied. "There isn't technically a curfew for students over
sixteen, but some of these caves go on for miles."
"Caves?" Nahlia glanced around, confused. As far as she could tell, everything down
here was man-made.

"Come on, I'll show you." He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.
Nahlia followed him out of the maze of bookshelves and through a long corridor that
broke off from the main chamber. The air grew even warmer and more humid as they
went.

"Watch your step here," Elias said.

Despite his warning, Nahlia stumbled forward as the smooth brick floor transitioned
into rough, rocky terrain. Elias turned to catch her before she fell.

Nahlia instinctively placed her arms on his shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief
when she realized she hadn't been splattered on the cave's rocky floor. "Thanks,
guess I'm still a little tired."

He grinned. "I guess so."

When Nahlia looked up again, she saw a mist of gray stream rising from several hot
springs. The surface of the water sparkled like gemstones in the crystal light.

She smiled, gazing around in awe. "So this is why it's so warm down here."

Elias nodded, gesturing toward a set of copper pipes along the cavern wall. "These
springs are what

keep us alive in the winter. They provide the water for the bathhouse on the
surface, and they warm the entire Academy, from the Archives, all the way up to the
Master's offices."

Nahlia knelt down at the edge of the nearest pool, running her cold fingers over
the water's surface. It was hot to the touch, almost boiling.

"Listen..." Elias began slowly. "About my sister.... you should know that not
everyone here thinks like that."

"It's fine." Nahlia shrugged. "I'm not afraid of Ciena."

"It's not just that," he continued. "What you said yesterday about the masked Aeon
who burned Nathaniel Mason's hometown. I think you're right."

"What do you mean?" She stood up again, using the edge of her cloak to wipe her
hands dry. "You really think he 'called down fire from the sky' like the Templars
said?"

"Well, I'm sure the Templars exaggerated the stories," he said. "But that doesn't
mean there isn't some truth behind them. I've read about Aeons with those powers
before, and I think the Masters are keeping them a secret from us."

"Or they don't know any better," Nahlia suggested. "I've spent the entire night
searching the Archives for evidence and came up with nothing."

"Right. Yimo told me you were looking for books on the Ethereal, but you won't find
what you're looking here in the Archives."

"But this is an Aeon library," she countered. "If Aeons once used the Ethereal to
gain supernatural powers, they must have documented it somewhere."
"I'm not saying the books never existed," he clarified. "I'm saying they've been
removed."

That

sent a chill running down her spine. "How do you know that?"

Elias walked along the edge of the pool, kicking small rocks in as he went. "When
we were kids-me, Ciena, and Yimo-we used to spend a lot of time exploring the caves
and the lower Archives. Sometimes we would find an old book that described Aeons
using the Ethereal to strengthen themselves. While they dreamed, they practiced
manipulating energy with their thoughts."

"Energy..." Nahlia mused. "You mean like fire."

He nodded. "Heat, light, electricity... it could all be controlled. And once they'd
practiced those abilities in the Ethereal, they could perform similar feats in the
physical world. It was like every myth and story we've ever heard about Aeons, but
it was real."

Nahlia already guessed where this was going. "And then the books disappeared,
didn't they?"

He nodded again. "Always. Every time we found one, it always disappeared within a
week. These days I'm not sure there are any books left to find. "

Nahlia sighed, letting her eyes fall to the damp stone floor. "How could they do
this? The Council always talk about teaching us to defend ourselves, so why would
they hide something that could help us?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "To be honest, it's been years since I thought even
about it. But then you showed up yesterday with that story... and Master Zidane
actually looked worried, as if you'd let some secret slip."

A thought crept into the back of her mind, though she didn't dare speak it aloud.
What if one of the Masters was the infamous masked Aeon? What if the White Council
knew, and they were covering for him?

"Do you know anything else about this?" Nahlia asked him after a short pause.

"I do," Elias said. Most of the Council is against this kind of teaching, with one
exception: Master Marwyn."

"Marwyn?" Nahlia didn't have any classes with him, but she remembered him from her
first meeting with the White Council. "He's the Master Physician, right?"

"Right, that's his official title. But his father was also the Academy's last
Master of Dreams... before Headmaster Alveron disbanded the position."

"Do you think he would help me?" she asked.

Elias shot her a curious look. "Help you with what, exactly?"

"I'm trying to learn more about the Ethereal. And you said it yourself; I'm not
going to find what I'm looking for here. I need to know if Marwyn can teach me."

He considered that for a moment. "I can't say for sure, but I have heard rumors of
him giving students private lessons. My mother also said that he knows more about
the Ethereal than anyone else in Whitecliff. I'd say if anyone can teach you what
you need to know, it's Marwyn.

=================

19: Kyroth

Thane sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed, his consciousness slipping
back and forth between the Ethereal and his hollow bedchamber in Kyroth. It was a
cold room, with nothing but a bed, an oil lamp and a porcelain chamber pot.

Even after years of meditation training, Thane's ability to escape the physical
world remained inconsistent. Some days it only took him seconds to clear his mind,
while other days seemed to take hours. Today was definitely the latter. His
breathing was steady and rhythmic, but his concentration was nettled by constant
interruptions: the rain falling in sheets outside his window, the wind rocking the
shutters in irregular patterns, and the shouting and cursing of Templar soldiers as
they trained in the courtyard below.

If what they did could even be called 'training'. Most days they simply hit each
other with blunted swords, favoring brute strength over form and precision. Thane
hadn't even held a sword in years, but he was fairly certain he could beat most of
them if he tried.

Just as he was making progress in his meditation, the door swung open on its rusty
hinges. Thane opened his eyes to see Lieutenant Gallow, Saul Mason's second in
command on the island. He was fully armored, with one hand resting on his sheathed
sword. Behind him stood two more Templar soldiers.

"Get up, Spectre," Gallow snarled as he made his way through the narrow doorway.
"The Knight Commander wants to see you."

Francen Gallow had a smaller build than his fellow officers, and he seemed to over-
compensate with needless bravado and aggression. The

only reason he'd climbed so high in the ranks was because he'd killed several
important Aeons during the Purge, although Thane suspected that most of them were
politicians, noblemen and children. Hardly a feat of strength or bravery, even by
the Templar's standards.

Thane stood up at his own pace, as if only mildly annoyed by the intrusion. "Well
then... lead the way, Lieutenant."

They walked down a flight of stone stairs into Kyroth's main courtyard.

It was a grim scene, like something out of an Antarian horror play. Night had
fallen several hours ago, and the only light came from the scattered lanterns
around the cloister.

Uneven cobblestones covered the ground beneath his feet, overtaken by years of
vegetation and weathering. The constant rainfall had turned large portions of the
courtyard to mud. Thane deliberately avoided these areas as they walked, having
just cleaned and polished his boots that very morning.

Although it was hard to tell in the dark, many of the structures were in equal
disarray. Several crenulations were missing from the walls and watchtowers. The
keep, the barracks and the stockades all remained intact, but most of the smaller
buildings had been destroyed years ago-some covered in green vines with caved in
roofs, others split in half by entire tree trunks.

He followed Gallow under a raised portcullis and over a wooden drawbridge that
separated the island from its towering stone keep. The wind was roughest here than,
causing Thane's black cloak to billow in the wind behind him like a ghost.

They passed under another gate into the keep's bottom

level. Drunken laughter filled the hall as off-duty
battles they'd fought in, the cities they'd sacked,
such as these were embellished enough when men were
drinks in them, it seemed like every Templar in the
wielding demigods.
Templars told stories about the
and Aeons they'd slain. Stories
sober. When they had several
room became a slayer of fire

"That's nothing," a balding man said to a group of younger soldiers. "I heard that
our own Knight Commander was there.... during the burning of Idemre. He actually
survived a fire strike to the face."

"Piss on that," a soldier grumped. "No one survived Idemre."

"No one except Saul Mason," he said darkly. "Nathaniel Mason was his father ye
know."

"Aye," another soldier slurred. "Everyone knows that."

"So he was only a boy when the Purge started. Where else would he have been if not
with his family?" The old Templar raised a hand to the right side of his face. "And
where else would he gotten those burns?"

These men pointedly ignored Thane as he and Gallow wove their way through the
crowded tables. It was no secret that the Templars barely tolerated his presence
outside the stockades. Although everyone knew that he and his sister were hostages,
only a select few officers were privy to his involvement in the attack on
Whitecliff.

They climbed several more flights of stairs until they reached the Knight
Commander's private quarters. There were at least five stories up now-high enough
to make out Dreshtae's harbor outside the western windows.

Saul Mason was sitting at his desk, pen in hand, in deep concentration

over a stack of parchment. The dim light of the lanterns did nothing to flatter his
burnt face.

"Ah, Thane..." Saul acknowledged him without looking up. "Come in."

Thane stepped inside and sat down opposite the Knight Commander without an
invitation. Gallow stood guard at the entrance, his face wearing its usual
expression of contempt.

"I've been going over your report." Saul said, indicating a roll of parchment on
his desk. "The girl's information is a good start."

"See, I told you she would come through," Thane said haughtily

"I said a good start," he clarified. "But getting inside Whitecliff was the easy
part."

Thane grimaced. "You shot her with an arrow. I'd hardly call that easy."

"It was a crossbow bolt," Saul corrected, refilling his pen in the battle of ink.
"And we had to make it look convincing. Anything less would've brought on suspicion
from your kind."

They were already suspicious of her, Thane thought, but he knew better than to say
so. The Knight Commander didn't need another excuse for his actions thus far.

"Even so, was shooting to kill really necessary? You could've ordered your men to-"

"No," Saul interrupted. "I couldn't have. When it comes to Aeon fugitives, my men
always shoot to kill. They know that, and so do the Seekers of Whitecliff. If one
of their spies had gotten wind of such an order, the girl would've never been
allowed in the academy."

"And if she died?" Thane countered. "All of this would be for nothing."

The Knight Commander looked up from his work to regard

him. "And do you how many men I lost during this charade?"

Thane shrugged. "I noticed that you and Gallow were the only ones who returned from
Northshire."

Saul nodded somberly. "That's because Aaron Cole killed two of my men with his bare
hands. Then I lost another three to that bitch in the Hinterlands. If I'd done this
my way, I could have saved them all. Instead, we did it your way, and now here I
am... writing to their families back in Ascalon."

When Thane didn't reply, the Knight Commander set down his pen and leaned back in
his wooden chair. "The point is, the girl survived. She's inside the academy, and
now it's time to move forward with the plan."

"Fine," Thane mirrored the other man's body language, crossing his arms and leaning
back in his own chair. "Let's get this over with then."

Saul unrolled the parchment with Thane's report. "She estimated over two hundred
people in Whitecliff, with plenty of food, weapons, and medicine for everyone. Is
that correct?"

Thane nodded. "That's what she told me."

"With no decent farmland north of Dreshtae, this academy should've run out of
resources years ago."

"Unless someone is financing them," Thane offered. "Someone very wealthy."

Saul nodded in agreement. "Right. If I had to guess, I'd say it's one of the old
Emperor's dogs. That's why I need to know the names of these 'White Council'
members before I give the girl her next assignment."

He raised an eyebrow "You want their names? "Why?"

"I have reason to believe that one of them is more dangerous than the

others. Dangerous enough to put a sizable dent in my army. If possible... I'd like
him taken out before the attack."

"You mean you want him assassinated?" Thane chuckled and shook his head. And whom
do you expect to do that? Nahlia?"

"Unless we have another informant inside Whitecliff that I'm unaware of."

"Nahlia Cole is an innocent girl with no training," Thane shot back. "She couldn't
kill an Aeon master even if she wanted to."

"She can poison him then, or slit his throat while he's sleeping. I don't care how
she does it. Just that it gets done."

"That's not the point," Thane said. "I don't think you realize how delicate our
situation is. Nahlia barely trusts me, and she's reluctant to even share basic
information about Whitecliff."

"I don't give a shit if she trusts you or not," Saul replied. "She will do this if
she wants to save her father."

"No she won't," Thane replied. "I already gave Nahlia the terms of our agreement:
Whitecliff's location for her father's freedom. She didn't agree to kill anyone,
and neither did I."

"You heard the Knight Commander," Gallow snarled, stepping forward to join the
conversation. "Ascalon may be a democracy now, but we aren't. You'll do what we
say... for your sister's sake."

Thane's eyes narrowed, and he was on his feet in an instant. "Don't even think
about threatening her, Gallow."

Fear flashed across the shorter man's face before it was overwhelmed by outrage.
"What did you say to me, boy?"

"I'm sorry," Thane replied, also taking a step casual forward. "Did I stutter?"

Every lantern in the room flickered and dimmed until they were no brighter than
candles. Thane's glare was even darker. "I think it's time you left, Lieutenant.
Wouldn't you say?"

Gallow gritted his teeth and moved to draw his sword. "You little sod! How dare you
threaten a member of the Templar Order."

The lanterns grew darker still. "Oh no, that wasn't a threat, Lieutenant. But this
is: If you ever speak of my sister again, I swear-in Aegon's name-I will burn you
alive in that armor."

Gallow hesitated, one hand still grasping his sword hilt. Then the Knight Commander
waved a dismissive hand. "It's all right, Lieutenant. Leave us."

"Sir," Gallow licked his lips, darting nervous eyes in Thane's direction. "With all
due respect, he just-"

"Yes... yes, I heard him," The Knight Commander said with an air of indifference.
"But I'm not afraid of a dragon whelping or his candlelight theatrics. Are you,
Lieutenant?"

With some reluctance, Gallow turned to leave, but not before shooting Thane a
deathly glare. Of course that didn't last long though-Thane's glare was better.
His father always told him, If you believe you can kill a man with your bare hands,
he'll believe it too.

Thanatos Spectre must've been right because there was a noticeable haste in the
Lieutenant's step as he fled the room. The door shut with a slam, and Thane allowed
the lanterns to return to their former glow.

"Sit down, Thane," the Knight Commander told him.

Satisfied with his small victory, Thane returned to his seat and took a few deep

breaths to steady himself.

"If you're quite finished intimidating my men, perhaps we can get back to business?
I don't have all night."

"I'm still not asking Nahlia to kill anyone," he said.

"There's no reason for us to debate that now," Saul said with a shrug. "We don't
even know who the Whitecliff masters are yet. For now, let's just focus on getting
that list of names. We'll deal with the next step when we come to it."

"Just the list of names," Thane murmured his agreement. He could have argued the
matter further, but he had to choose his battles carefully. At this point, he was
lucky that Saul wasn't pressuring him for Whitecliff's specific location. At the
very least, that gave him a few more days to put his plan into motion.

***

Thane found the courtyard deserted when he returned-quiet enough to hear the waves
crashing against Kyroth's shores. Most of the soldiers had retired to their
barracks for the evening, leaving only a few dozen sentries guarding the walls,
staring out into the vast emptiness of the Frozen Sea.

He entered the stockades and descended a stone staircase into the lower cells-by
far the grimmest and coldest place in Kyroth. There were over twenty cells down
here, though only two of them were occupied.

A great hearth burned in the center where the two corridors met. Half a dozen
guards huddled around it, talking amongst themselves and warming their hands by the
fire.

Thane strolled by the guards without a word, and no one even spared him a second
glance as he passed. After a year of being Saul Mason's hostage, they

all knew his nightly routine by now. This was fortunate; otherwise he never
could've spoken to Aaron Cole in private.

The former-Templar was lying on his cot with his back facing the bars of the cell.
He had been a prisoner in Kyroth for over a week now, yet they hadn't spoken a
single word to each other.

Thane grasped the rusty iron bars and called out to him as loud as he dared.
"Cole?"

"Spectre." His voice came out in a low baritone, far more alert than Thane had
expected. When he rolled over to face him, Thane realized he looked a decade older
than when he'd arrived here. His face was hollow, bruised, and covered in a week's
worth of beard growth. Still, his frame looked as strong as any other soldier on
the island.

"You know who I am?" Thane asked.

"I recognized you the second you set foot in my inn," Cole rasped. "I had hoped the
Templars came for you that night. That was before I realized you betrayed your own
race."

He sighed. "It's more complicated than that."

"Of course it is," Cole said. "I used to tell myself the exact same thing so I
could sleep at night."

Thane shook his head as if to clear it. He would've liked to tell Nahlia's father
the whole story-that the Templars had known their location for years, and that they
would have captured Nahlia if he hadn't intervened. More importantly, he wanted to
explain that he was trying to help his race. But no, time was short, and he had a
promise to keep.

He took a deep breath; double-checking to make sure the guards weren't listening.
"I spoke with your daughter yesterday," he whispered. "In the Ethereal."

"Nahlia?"

Cole's eyes widened at this and he immediately sat up. "Is she all right?"

Thane nodded. "She's fine. She escaped the Templars."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Please tell me she's somewhere far away from here."

Thane hesitated, glancing at the guards again.

"No," Cole said, answering his own question. "Of course... If the Templars didn't
find her, the Aeons must have."

Thane nodded again. "They say Whitecliff is the safest place in Valaridor for
Aeons."

"Until the Templars find it," he countered, "then it becomes the most dangerous.
That's why you're here, isn't it? To help the Templars find the academy in exchange
for your own families' safety?"

A pause. "You're right, they think I'm here to help them. That doesn't mean I-"

"Wake up Spectre," Cole interjected, shaking his head. "Saul Mason wouldn't bring
half the Order here if he weren't absolutely certain about this. If you think
you're going to stop this attack from happening, you're delusional."

"I can stop this from happening," Thane retorted. "I have the situation under
control."

"That's a boy's answer," Cole snorted. "You grew up in a palace, and you think
because you've read books about war you know enough to prevent one? You think you
can manipulate these Templars just because you're smarter than they are?

"No. I've fought in real wars. I've seen what happens when people want bloodshed,
and they're no words or reason that can stop them. If this continues, people will
die. And if you want to help my daughter, you'll put her on a ship and get her out
of the North."

"Nahlia already

knows where you are," Thane said. "You know she'll never leave without you."

"Then tell her I'm dead. It's better than having the Templars kill us both."

"Hoy!" One of the guards called out, "Back off, Spectre! "You can either see your
sister or you can leave."

Thane took a few casual steps away from the cell, still holding Cole's gaze.
"Nahlia loves you, and you're going to see each other again. I promise."

Then he turned around, making his way down toward the adjacent cell. The guard
followed close behind, unhooking a ring of keys from his belt.

The door to Ashara's cell swung open with a rusty creek, and Thane stepped inside.
His sister was curled up at the top of her cot, but her face immediately brightened
when she saw him.

Like Cole, she had seen better days. But even with her tattered clothes, her black
hair in tangles and her pale skin smudged with dirt, she still looked the part of
an Aeon princess.

After the guard shut the door and left them alone, Thane sat down on the bed beside
Ashara.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm good," she gave him a weak smile through chattering teeth. Anyone could tell
she was half-starved and freezing, but she would never complain. In fact, for the
year they'd been Saul Mason's hostages, she had never complained once. Thane loved
her for that. She was royalty in title and appearance, but the real girl behind the
facade was far stronger.

As always, Ashara told him about her day, uneventful as it was. Apparently she
spent a great deal of time talking to Aaron Cole, listening to his stories about

the Purge, his childhood in Ascalon, and his old life with Lyanna Trevelyan.

"He even gave me his blanket, "Ashara said, gesturing to the extra sheet of brown
fabric wrapped about her shoulders. "He's quite the gentlemen, you know."

"At least someone on this island is." Thane smiled, appreciating the irony of a
turncloak having more honor than his former comrades. The other Templars down here
were all content to watch her shiver and starve while they stood guard with their
warm fires and woolen cloaks.

"Well, as it happens, I brought you something too," Thane said, reaching into a
hidden pocket deep within his black cloak.

Ashara perked up even more. "Really? What is it?"

"Here," Thane smiled, handing her a small, brown bag with a drawstring. "Open it."

She opened the bag with anticipation, pulling out several peaches and pears. Her
favorite fruits from home.
"Are these real?" Her pale blue eyes widened as she ran her fingers over the
peach's soft surface. "I thought you said these didn't grow in the North?"

"They don't," Thane told her. "But I was in Dreshtae's market today and I found a
fruit merchant from Dragonshard. I figured you might like them."

Ashara took a slow, delicate bite, as if the prospect of eating fruit again were
too good to be true. Then she closed her eyes and smiled.

"They're perfect," she whispered. "Thank you."

When she finished eating, Thane took her small, trembling hands in his. As always,
they were stiff and as cold as the metal bars of her cell. Fortunately, Thane could
do better than just offer her an extra blanket. There was a reason his clan sigil
was a black dragon.

Still holding her hands tightly, Thane closed his eyes and concentrated, letting
his mind wander down the corridor to the Templar's hearth. He cleared his mind of
every thought except for Ashara, and his desire to keep her warm and safe.

Their fire began to dwindle as he summoned its energy to the palms of his hands,
using its energy to rub warmth and life back into Ashara's.

The flames in the hearth grew even smaller still as Thane let the energy flow into
the walls of the cell. Several heartbeats passed, and the bricks grew warmer than
rocks in the summer sun. It was nothing extravagant, but it would keep them warm.
Ashara laid her head on Thane's chest and he pulled her close. Her body started out
tense, but she soon relaxed as the fire from the hearth warmed them

Thane allowed himself to relax as well. For a moment, he ceased worrying about the
Templars, about Whitecliff Academy, or the war that was to come. He only thought of
her, and of home.

=================

20 - Pt.1: Ethereal Shards

Master Marwyn proved especially difficult to track down. Even after a week in the
academy, Nahlia had hardly seen him since her first meeting with the White Council.
She tried his office several times, but apparently he never used it. And unlike the
other masters, he never seemed to spend any time in the main hall, the Mess, or the
cathedral.

After asking around and speaking with several of the healing clan students, she
discovered that the Master Physician had a private study in the back room of the
infirmary. That must've been where he spent all his time.

Nahlia made her way over to the infirmary after another long day of tedious
classes. The evenings were growing colder as winter approached. Snow lay upon the
buildings and walls like fluffy white caps while thin sheets of ice covered the
cobblestone walkways. Off to the West, the last rays of sunlight barely penetrated
the clouds, creating a haze of shell pink and gold above the horizon.

The infirmary's main chamber was similar to the rest of Whitecliff, with the same
towering windows and high vaulted ceilings she'd come to expect. The only
difference was the strong smell of antiseptic that flooded her nostrils.

Hospitals always made Nahlia feel uneasy, probably because they were so foreign to
her. Even as a child, she was never sick-not even so much as a cold. And most of
her injuries seemed to heal themselves, combined with her father's basic medical
knowledge he'd gained during the war.

She passed between two rows of portable beds covered in white linens and divided by
thin blue curtains.

Student physicians were attending a pair of injured battleground clan members. One
had an injured leg, the other had an open gash on his forehead. Both wore the brown
uniforms of Howler Clan and Nahlia wondered if their new commander, Ciena Raider
was to blame.

None of them seemed to notice Nahlia as she passed though. Not until she started
toward a closed wooden door at the end of the chamber. She had her hands on the
handle when a voice stopped her.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" A young blonde women asked, practically jumping up
from her desk She wore the customary white robes of a healing clan member.

"Yes," Nahlia stood up straight in an attempt to appear confident. "I'm looking for
Master Marwyn."

The girl gave her a suspicious look. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Nahlia nodded. She couldn't very well deny it, not with Whitecliff being as small
as it was.

"Well then, you should know that Marwyn doesn't like to be disturbed while he's
working... especially at this hour."

Of course, she thought. Even when I finally find him, he's impossible to speak
with.

But Nahlia didn't have the luxury of time-not when she had already wasted two whole
days tracking him down. Even though she revealed nothing about Whitecliff's
location to Thane, a constant feeling burned in the back of her mind; the feeling
that time was running out.

"It's all right," Nahlia said with a reassuring smile. "He's already expecting me."

"Really?" A line of irritation formed between her eyebrows. "Do you have an
appointment then?"

"He told me I wouldn't

need one as long as I came in the evening. Like you said, he usually doesn't like
to be disturbed."

"Whatever." the girl rolled her eyes and gestured for Nahlia to pass. "Don't say I
didn't warn you though."

Nahlia opened the door and continued down another long corridor past several empty
classrooms. At the end of the hall stood a large thick-timbered door.
Nahlia gave a soft knock, but no one replied. She heard a lot of interference on
the other side; glass bottles clanking together, liquids boiling, and some sort of
heavy machinery at work.

She knocked again, this time more insistently. It took several more tries before
she received a response.

"All right, all right," a faint voice snapped. There was the sound of a bolt being
drawn back, and the door swung open to reveal Master Marwyn with his balding head,
thin build and clean-shaven face

"Ah, Nahlia Cole. Arrived in Whitecliff one week ago with Seeker Raider. Now
already in battle clan. Wolfe Clan by the looks of it."

Nahlia stood speechless for a moment, she had almost forgotten how fast Marwyn
spoke. "Um yes sir-I was wondering if I might borrow a moment of your time?"

He turned and moved back to his work table, leaving the door open for her. Nahlia
stepped inside, surprised to discover that the room was more of a laboratory than a
study. Lit by several blue shard lamps, there were tables full of twisted glassware
and chemistry tubes, various pieces of machinery, and other strange artifacts she
didn't recognize. Despite this, there was a strange sense of calmness to the place,
as if everything

were organized just right, with all the pieces moving together like parts of a
symphony.

"Pass me that vial of adegen," Marwyn said, indicating a nearby table. "No no-the
red one, next to the carbon compressor. Yes, that's it. Thank you."

He took the glass-stoppered bottle and adjusted his spectacles for what appeared to
be a very precise measuring process.

"What are you working on?" Nahlia asked to fill the sudden silence.

"Synthetically composed Ethereal shard," he answered at once. "Based off thousand

year old specimen found in ancient Aeon tomb. Very rare. Possibly only known set in
all of Valaridor. Although difficult to say for certain. Ethereal shards hide in
plain sight. Difficult to preform tests and identify."

The Master Physician was in constant movement as he spoke. Stepping between desks,
grabbing vials and tools from various surfaces and scribbling notes on parchment.

Finally, he turned to regard Nahlia again. "But of course-didn't come here to talk
about my work. Obviously here for a reason. Injured during training? No. No visible
signs of injury. Other medical concern? Unlikely. Would have made appointment first
instead of lying to bypass student staff."

Nahlia cringed at that, a cold knot began to form in her stomach. When she opened
her mouth to explain, Marwyn held up a finger and continued. "You're here for
information. But not enrolled in any of my classes. Heard rumors about me from from
fellow students? Yes. Looking to learn more about the Ethereal."

That gave her pause. For someone who supposably spent all of his time

secluded in this laboratory, Marwyn was very well informed. "Yes sir, I was
wondering if I could ask you a question?"

"You just did," Marwyn replied, this time he didn't bother looking up from his
work.

Nahlia bit her lip before continuing. "Are you familiar with the story of Emperor
Palatine and Sara Trevelyan?"

"Yes yes, of course," Marwyn waved a dismissive hand. "Get to the point. Only so
many hours in the day."

She took a deep breath. "Everyone I've talked to-every book I've read-has said that
it's impossible to find or harm a stranger in the Ethereal. But I think people are
misinformed, and that the Archives in Whitecliff are incomplete."

Marwyn shrugged. "If such a thing were possible-hypothetical of course-it would be

very dangerous indeed. Why inquire about this? Surely you have other studies that
require your attention."

"I'm studying this in my free time," she explained. "But you haven't answered my
question."

"You didn't ask a question." A sliver of a smile escaped his lips. "And perhaps not
a question worth answering. Could just as easily be a children's story concocted to
frighten new students. Keep them awaken at night. Fearing for their lives."

"Maybe," Nahlia said. "But you don't really believe that, do you?"

"And why not? Scientists believe what they can observe. Prove or disprove. Hard to
do either with something that allegedly happened long ago. In a dream."

"But something happened to Sara Trevelyan," she said. "And your grandfather was the
Master of Dreams at the time of her death. He must've known something. He

must've been involved in the investigation."

"Hmm. And I must know something by extension?" Marwyn countered, giving her a
sideways glance. "Your ancestor, Atreus Trevelyan, was Whitecliff's Headmaster at
the time. By your logic, you must also have knowledge of the event."

Nahlia sighed internally. By now it seemed like Marwyn had no intention of helping
her. But then, why would he bother with this charade when he could just as easily
dismiss her? Why would he only hint at ignorance instead of denying his interest
and knowledge altogether?

"I'm not claiming you you have knowledge of the Ethereal because your grandfather
did," she explained. "I think you've studied it personally."

"And why is that? Because of rumors you've heard? Conjecture?"

Nahlia took a quick glance around the room, taking in the sight of the strange
alchemy tools and the synthetic crystals that he referred to as Ethereal shards.

"You're the Master Physician, yet none of your personal projects are related to
medicine or healing. That suggests you're passionate about something else." She
gestured down to the shards on the table between them. "I think you would be the
Master of Dreams right now if Alveron didn't disbanded the position."

Marwyn smiled again. "But of course, you're not the first to ask about the
Ethereal. Others have come before you. Always looking for power. Always looking to
gain an advantage over their enemies. Heard stories of Aeons wielding fire.
Bringing back the dead. Controlling minds. Battles. Empires. No real understanding
of Ethereal or its

purpose."

"I'm not looking for any of that, Master." Nahlia clarified quickly. " I just want
to know if there's any truth to the stories they tell."

"Mere curiosity? No." Marwyn shook his head with an air of finality. "Wouldn't go
through this much effort for that. Why are you really here?"

Nahlia stood dumbfounded. Ever since she met Thane in the Ethereal, she had been
determined to understand him and his mysterious ways. To understand the Ethereal
itself, that it might even the playing field between them. But of course she
couldn't share any of that with Marwyn. What could she say?

I've already watched friends and family die protecting me. I can't let that happen
again. I have to become strong enough to save my father and everyone in Whitecliff
before it's too late. True, but in a way, that was no different than pursuing
power. It was said that nearly everyone sought power with good intentions.

I want to unravel the mysteries of the past before it repeats itself. Also true,
but the past was the very the reason these secrets were buried in the first place;
the very reason this knowledge was now restricted to students.

No, there was only one answer that was both truthful, and close to something Marwyn
might accept. She took another deep breath. "When I first discovered that the
Ethereal held ancient secrets, I've felt compelled to learn them. Like something
inside of me is pushing me forward... like this is my true purpose. You said the
others didn't understand the Ethereal... well neither do I, but I want to
understand. More than anything."

For

the first time, Marwyn set down his tools to regard her. "Interesting. Perhaps
there's no harm in satisfying some of your curiosity."

He walked over another of his work stations. Nahlia followed, flaring with
excitement.

"Ancestors used to manipulate Ethereal in many ways. Most lost to us now, of

course. But some remain." Marwyn pulled a key from around his neck, unlocking a
large wooden chest. "As you said, my grandfather also sat on the White Council.
Failed his Headmaster when Sara Trevelyan died. Dedicated the rest of his life to
finding out what happened to her. Discovered these."

He opened his hand to reveal a pair of matching stones similar to the ones he was
attempting to create. Their surfaces were dark and jagged, like onyx or obsidian.
But these were neither; they were man-made.

"Ethereal shards," Marwyn explained. "These are bonded to each other. The same way
a bond can exist between two Aeon minds." He pressed two fingers to his forehead,
then to Nahlia's. "They were once of shard, split apart at the smallest level. Now,
even apart, the shard fragments are one. Minds they connect are also one."

Nahlia nodded. Even though she was having trouble understanding any of this, she
didn't want Marwyn to stop talking. This was the kind of knowledge she needed, the
kind she craved.

"Beacons of thought energy," he continued "Much like our own brains. And yes, as
you said, allows two strangers to communicate in the Ethereal. Perhaps even harm
each other. Distance is irrelevant. So long as as each participant possesses one of
these shards."

Nahlia gasped. "And... did Sara Trevelyan have one of things shards?"

"Hmm. Difficult to say," Marwyn admitted. "These particular shards... discovered

decades after she died. Other shards could be hiding in plain sight." He gestured
around the room at seemingly random objects. "Impossible to determine."

She frowned, taking a second glance at the pair of shards Marwyn held. "If it's
impossible to determine, then how do you know these are real?"

"Impossible to determine with only one shard," Marwyn clarified. "Can easily
preform tests with two."

"What can of tests?"

Marwyn stopped to regard her, then nodded with a hint of a smile. "Easier to show
you. Come." He led her to yet another section of the laboratory, gesturing toward a
cushioned chair. "Sit."

Nahlia sat down, and Marwyn took the seat opposite her, setting the Shards on a
round, wooden table between them.

Nahlia leaned forward in her seat, but Marwyn stopped her. "No no, sit back. Very
important.

She did as he said, and the Master Physician closed his eyes and concentrated for
several moments. His normally quick breathing began to slow, becoming more
deliberate, more rhythmic.

Then, with a jolt, Nahlia fell back in her chair. Her mind and soul seemed to
spring from her body, and everything faded to black.

=================

20 - Pt.2: Ethereal Shards

A cool breeze grazed her cheek, ruffling her hair. Nahlia opened her eyes and found
herself standing in the middle of a large, circular courtyard. Lush green foliage
surrounded her while a pair of enormous fountains shot up from a nearby pond,
spraying mists of water into the blue night sky.

She looked up and saw a spanning metropolis all around her. The buildings were
taller than trees, taller than mountains even. The mere sight of them was enough to
make her dizzy.

She blinked several times, studying the skyline. Even from this low vantage point,
Nahlia recognized it from several famous illustrations and paintings. It was the
city of suns, capital of the old Antarian Empire. The city that never sleeps,
always glowing with the light of a thousand crystal shards.

"Ascalon..."
"Correct," Marwyn replied. Nahlia whipped around to find the Master Physician
standing there beside her. "Ascalon. As it existed before the Purge. Or rather-my
memories of it."

She nodded, still gazing up in wonder at the towering structures. "So that means
we're in the Ethereal?"

"Right again." Marwyn spread his arms in an expansive gesture. "But how? Are we
dreaming?"

The question jogged her out of her reverie. Nahlia considered it for a long moment,
remembering what Thane had told her in their previous meetings. "No... we're not
dreaming-not exactly. You were meditating before we came here. That makes it more
deliberate than a dream."

"Hmm." Marwyn braced his chin thoughtfully. "And you?"

"Since the shards connect our minds, you were able to bring me here as well."

"Very

good." He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. "Does this satisfy your curiosity
then?"

Nahlia nodded slowly. While this may have dispelled the common belief that
strangers couldn't communicate within the Ethereal, it still didn't explain how
Thane had found her. Nahlia didn't have one of these mysterious "Ethereal shards".
And even if she possessed one unknowingly, it would be too much of a coincidence
for Thane to possess its counterpart.

She was gazing around the garden when she saw a strange young woman standing
beneath a stone archway. Two small children stood on the path beside her. They had
their mother's eyes, but their faces were thin and pointy like Marwyn's.

"Are they your family?" she asked.

Marwyn took Nahlia by the elbow and steered her away. "Not real. Only
representations. Had a family once before the Purge. Gone now."

Nahlia bit her lip and looked away. "I'm sorry. I lost people during the Purge
too."

"Your mother," he nodded, almost sighing. "Lyanna Trevelyan. Brilliant student.

Always assumed she would become Whitecliff's next Headmaster. Unfortunate what
happened to her. Unfortunate you had to see it happen."

"I try not to think about that night," Nahlia admitted. She turned around to where
Marwyn's family had been standing, only to find an empty archway. "Will I ever see
her in the Ethereal?"

"Perhaps," Marwyn replied. "But important to separate dreams from reality. Other
Aeons go mad with grief here. Lose loved ones in physical word. Cling to
representations in Ethereal. Terrible waste of time and life."

Marwyn

seemed to be convincing himself of this just as much as Nahlia, and a part of her
wondered if he had experienced this personally. Was that why he worked in
Whitecliff's infirmary? To spend his time helping people, away from this
representational world he had created?

They walked together in silence for several moments after that. The Master
Physician was much quieter here than he had been in his laboratory. Eager to learn
more, Nahlia shifted the conversation to something of a more scientific nature to
get him talking again.

"You mentioned these Ethereal shards are man-made. Do we know who made them?"

"Unsure," he admitted. "Still so little information, both culturally and

scientifically. Most likely created by Aeons for training purposes long ago. Bring
neophyte students into Ethereal. Have them train here."

"Aeons used to train in the Ethereal?"

"Of course," he replied. "ideal place for training of any kind. Free energy
everywhere. No risk of serious injury. Time passes slower than in physical world.
Practical. Efficient."

Nahlia nodded. "And what did they study, exactly? Combat?"

Marwyn shook his head, the edges of his mouth pulling back in a grimace. "Aeons get
terrible reputation for violence. History only remembers wars between empires.
Slavery of humans. Abuse of power. But historical research suggests only one in ten
Aeons were violent. Most used Ethereal for greater understanding of the world and
themselves."

Nahlia frowned. "If that's true, then why did Alveron force the academy's students
to stop studying dreams? Why would the White Council remove books from the
Archives?"

She nearly cringed at the bold question when she remembered that Marwyn was a
member of that very council.

"Knowledge of Ethereal has potential for peace and understanding, but also for
death and destruction," Marwyn replied. "The more we learned, the more dangerous it
became."

"That doesn't make sense," Nahlia said. "how can something bring both peace and
destruction?"

There was a short pause, then Marwyn took a few steps toward the fountain and
raised his hand. A steady stream of water rose out, twisting through the air in a
spiral. "Similar to Ethereal, water can be peaceful. Can bring life. Required by
all living things."

Nahlia's eyes widened at the display. The water moved through the air so easily,
defying the laws of gravity. Its surface reflected the crystal light from the city
above. She had seen strange and wondrous things in the Ethereal before, but nothing
like this. This was magic. Real magic; like the kind from ancient Aeon lore.

Marwyn clenched his fist, and the smooth stream of water froze into a hundred
jagged icicles, as sharp and threatening as swords. "Water can also bring death,"
he added. "Two sides. Same coin."

Nahlia released her breath, not even realizing she had been holding it. Whatever
mysterious ability Marwyn had, she knew that Thane had it too. Perhaps many Aeons
did. She turned around to face the Master Physician. "Can you teach me how to do
this?"

"How to do what?"

"Everything," Nahlia said. "How to meditate... how to understand the Ethereal." She
gestured back toward the still-frozen stream of water. "How to do that."

"Hmm."

Marwyn raised his hand to his chin, as if considering her request. "And what makes
you think you're worth my time?"

The question took her by surprise. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I may be a teacher. This may be a school. But I'm the Master Physician, not the
Master of Dreams. Under no obligation to teach you these lost arts. Could even be
dangerous to do so. If you want private lessons, must first show me that you're as
serious as you claim."

"All right," she said at once. "just tell me what I need to do."

"Fair warning," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "Will be very difficult.
More difficult than anything you've ever done."

"Of course." Nahlia nodded. "I understand."

He held up a finger. "First, you need to enter the Ethereal without dreaming."

"You mean enter through meditation-like what you did today?"

"Correct," Marwyn nodded. "Not only that, but create your own portion of the dream
world-a strong memory from your past. Reflect on it as you meditate. Remember every
detail until it comes to life."

"Any memory?"

"No," he said, his voice almost apologetic. "Your worst memory. The night your
mother died."

A brick fell into her stomach. The idea of meditating into the Ethereal was
overwhelming enough, but to recreate her most traumatic memory? Marwyn might as
well have asked her for a piece of the moon.

Nahlia had been blocking out that memory for years. The flashbacks were horrible
enough, and they were only fragments. The Ethereal felt as real as anything.

"Once you've done that," Marwyn continued,

"use the Ethereal shards to bring me there with you. Only then will I know you're
serious."

Nahlia clenched her jaw. "Why does it need to be that memory? You just told me we
weren't supposed to dwell on our pasts here."

"No," Marwyn agreed. "But equally unhealthy to suppress it. Need to accept the past
and move on. Need to experience what happened without trying to change it. Most
importantly, need to forgive those who wronged you."

"You mean Saul Mason? You want me to forgive the Templar who murdered my mother,
who's still holding my father hostage in Kyroth?"

"Yes. Claim to only want knowledge and not power. Then prove it. Prove you're
different from the others."

"I am different!" Nahlia exclaimed. "Unlike most people in this academy, I've never
hurt anyone in my life."

"Irrelevant," Marwyn said, waving a dismissive hand. "Always weaker than your
enemies before. Doesn't mean you never thought about hurting them. Doesn't mean you
wouldn't hurt them given the opportunity."

Nahlia opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. She remembered the night in the
Moonstone Inn when she tried to attack Saul Mason. How she had wanted to become
strong enough to defeat Ciena Raider in a duel. But those were all natural
reactions; they didn't make her a violent person. Marwyn was simply asking too much
of her.

"Sorry," he added almost as an afterthought. "Warned you it would be difficult."

"That's not difficult," Nahlia blurted out. "That's impossible!"

"Hmm." Marwyn remained calm and composed. "Now you know why Alveron disbanded
Ethereal teachings. Too many Aeons have lost people important to them. Parents,
children, friends, homes. Crave vengeance. Only safe to train you if you can make
peace with your enemies. Forgive them. Move on."

Even the mere thought of that night left Nahlia feeling weak and hollow. She never
wanted to feel that way again. "I can't do that."

"I understand," Marwyn nodded. "No shame in admitting that."

The garden and the surrounding city faded to black, and Nahlia felt the cushioned
chair beneath her again. The sensation was abrupt, like waking with a start from a
deep sleep.

When she opened her eyes, Marwyn was already on his feet. "Should get back work,"
he said matter-of-factly. "Much to do."

Nahlia nodded wearily as she turned to leave. "Thank you for your time, Master."

=================

21: The Testament of Virtue

After dinner that evening, Nahlia made her way over to the chapel for Headmaster
Alveron's service. His lectures were twice a week, though they weren't classes in
the traditional sense. There were no exams or papers, nor did he engage them in any
form of active discussion. They simply sat and listened as the Headmaster read to
them from the Testaments of Aegon, instructing them to live their lives according
to his plan.

The chapel itself was by far the most impressive of all Whitecliff's buildings.
With high vaulted ceilings, marble floors polished to a mirror shine and two rows
of stained glass windows, each one depicting famous scenes of the seven Archaeons.
The nave was lit entirely by candlelight, a stunning contrast against the deep blue
hues of the windows.

Nahlia showed up a few minutes before the service began, stopping in the entryway
to brush the snowflakes from her dress and hair. When she entered the main chamber,
she immediately found Elias Raider sitting in the back row. He wore his black
dueling fatigues under a more formal-looking jacket, similar to the one his father
wore in Dreshtae.

Nahlia slid in beside him on the wooden pew. "I spoke with Master Marwyn today,"
she began without preamble. "Just like you told me."

Elias sat up sharply. "And?"

"He refused to train me unless I can meditate into the Ethereal on my own... back
to the night my mother died." She turned to meet his gaze. "But you already knew
that would happen, didn't you?"

When Elias didn't answer, she continued. "Marwyn told me that students have asked
him

for private training before. I know you were one of them."

Reluctantly, Elias nodded. "It was a few years ago... shortly after the books
started disappearing from the Archives. I approached Marwyn about training, and he
told me the same thing he told you: that I had meditate into the Ethereal and
recreate the night the Templars drove me and my family from Raidenwood."

At least you still have your whole family, Nahlia almost said. But she bit her
tongue, realizing she had no idea what happened in Raidenwood, what had made Ciena
so hostile toward humans.

"I tried for weeks," Elias went on. "But I couldn't even get into the Ethereal,
much less recreate an entire memory. After a while, it all started to seem like a
waste of time; like Marwyn gave me an impossible task just so I would leave him
alone."

Nahlia nodded in agreement. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"I didn't want to discourage you," he said. "I thought there was a chance you might
succeed where others failed."

Nahlia looked away, her eyes wondering around the nave, studying the various
stained glass windows. "Well, you were wrong. I don't understand why anyone would
want to relive their worst memory. And I can't believe Marwyn would ask us to in
the first place."

He shrugged. "I thought the same thing before. But you're also different from the
other students here."

"Different how?"

He was about to reply when Relic interrupted, sliding into the other side of the
pew beside Elias.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," she murmured. "My uncle kept me an extra hour for combat
training and I barely
had time to change afterword." She gestured down to her coral dress and white fur
cloak. "It's so unfair that we have to wear dresses here while you still get to
wear your combat fatigues."

Elias chuckled. "You know how the masters when it comes to the old traditions. To
be honest... I don't mind either."

Nahlia sank down into her seat as they talked, opening another history book she had
borrowed from the Archives. Even if Marwyn refused to train her, she wasn't giving
up on her quest to learn more about Thane and his family. He would be contacting
her any night now, and she wanted to be ready when he did.

A few minutes went by before Elias glanced over in her direction "I wouldn't let
the Headmaster catch you reading in here."

Nahlia sighed, closing the book just as Alveron came strolling through the center
isle. "Of course. Not only does he make attendance mandatory, we're not allowed to
focus on anything useful while we're here."

"Hmm," Relic said, leaning over to join their conversation. "You don't find the
Testaments useful?"

Nahlia shrugged. "I've already read them all. They're just allegories and
children's stories as far as I'm concerned."

"So you don't believe in Aegon then?" Elias asked. "Wouldn't have taken you for an
atheist."

"I didn't say that," she replied. "I believe that Aegon exists, I just don't
believe that he listens to our prayers or cares about us."

"Seems a little harsh," he said. "But I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise,

considering you were raised among humans all your life."

"I could say the

same thing for you; being raised among Aeons all your life."

Elias nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough I suppose."

"But this has nothing to do with that," she explained. "My mother was an Aeon, and
she taught me to pray every night before bed. I did for years, right up until the
night the Templars raided our home and murdered her. After my father and I escaped,
I stayed awake all night praying to Aegon, begging him to bring her back. He
didn't."

Relic sighed, lowering her eyes. "I don't think it works that way."

"Of course not..." she murmured. "Aegon can create the entire world... He can be
all knowing and all powerful... but he can't save people from dying. If he really
cared about us like the Testaments say, then why abandon us like this? Why sit by
and do nothing while thousands of his "chosen people" were murdered during the
Purge?"

The two of them seemed to be considering that for a moment, but they were spared
the need to reply as the Headmaster rose to the podium at the front of the
sanctuary.

"Good evening everyone." Alveron's voice carried easily over the crowd of students,
echoing throughout the chapel's high ceilings "Today we're going to continue where
we left off last week, in the Testament of Virtue, 7:9.

"Most of you probably know this story already, but for those of you who don't, it's
the story of ancestors, the very first people to enter the Ethereal. Better known
today as the seven Archaeons."

The headmaster opened the book and began to read.

***

For over a thousand generations the humans

spread their seeds, covering the face of the earth from Valaridor in the West to
Valasia in the East. All the while Aegon the Almighty sat upon his great throne in
Eternity, gazing down at the world he had shaped so long ago.

He looked down at the humans and saw them struggling and unable to thrive in the
world he had created. They clung to their earthly desires-pleasure over
fulfillment, violence over peace. They were unable to look forward into the future,
unable to build anything for themselves.

Aegon didn't blame them for this failures. Instead, he realized they needed guides
to awaken their minds, to help them reach their true potential. And so Aegon the
Almighty took seven humans from the seven realms of men: four from the West and
three from the East. He led them into the Ethereal where they were reborn in his
image as the first Aeons.

Each new Aeon was representative of a different virtue-an attribute of Aegon

himself. These would become the ancestors of all Aeons. Aegon used them to teach
humanity, to aid them in their struggles and lead them forward in the turmoils to
come.

Antaria became the Aeon of knowledge and wisdom. Aegon created her hoping that
humanity could better understand their creator and the world they live in.

Raiden became the Aeon of strength and fortitude, created to lead both Aeons and
humans through times of hardship and weakness.

Vashet became the Aeon of justice and honor, created to teach the world to live by
a moral code and understand the will of Aegon himself.

Trelu became the Aeon of empathy and compassion, in the hopes

that mankind might understand better one another and discover alternatives to
fighting and war.

Vaulden became the Aeon of honesty and integrity, to ensure the others lived true
to one another, and to the virtues bestowed upon them.

Kalazhan became the Aeon of courage and passion, to guide the others in times of
grave uncertainty. To ensure they never forget what matters most in life.

And finally, Palatine became the Aeon of ambition and perseverance. Aegon created
him with the purpose of guiding them all-both Aeons and humans- toward a brighter
future.

When the seven awoke from their deep sleep within the Ethereal, Aegon said to them,
"Go forth and teach these virtues to all. Just as I have shaped this world, you
will continue to shape it, everyday making it a better place."

And to Antaria and Palatine, he told them, "I declare you the greatest of all
Aeons. And to you I give the East and the West. From the seats of power in your
respective cities, you will rule in my name."

***

Headmaster Alveron closed the book, indicating the transition from the Testaments
to his own words. He straightened his posture, taking a few slow steps away from
the podium. Nahlia had to admit, he was quite an impressive sight in his gray
master's robes with a hundred candles burning behind him.

"Everyone in this room can trace their lineage back to at least one of these seven
Archaeons. We may not have their names, but we have their blood. And It is said
that if one wishes to live his life in the way Aegon intended, he should live by
the virtues assigned to his ancestors.

"Yet we also have the blood of men in our veins. And where there is virtue, there
is also weakness. To make things more complicated, we also have free will; the
right to choose whether we want to place our faith in Aegon, or in ourselves.

"This makes our everyday choices essential. It is through our choices that we make
this world better or worse. Aegon may have created the world, but it is us whom he
entrusted it to. Now the world is no more or no less than what we make of it."

=================

22: A Place to Call Home

A/N: First time writing a flashback for this story. Let me know what you think. :)
Eventually, I wouldn't mind adding several more flashbacks for Thane to explain how
he ended up in his current predicament with the Templars.

SEVEN YEARS AGO

The free city of Kalamir was far larger than Thane had expected. When his father
first told him they were procuring new mining territory in the Dragon Sea, he
imagined visited another small, backwater island like those off the coast of
Dragonshard.

To his surprise, Kalamir's size and population were more comparable to Dragonshard
itself. The city was a massive trading port from all over the world.

The buildings were blocky, constructed from white clay with bronze, domed roofs.
Their shapes formed a staircase as they climbed the steep incline of the mountain,
starting from the harbor and going deep into the jungles beyond.

How many people lived on this island anyway? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Even
after walking several miles inland, it seemed to grow larger and more dense.

Thane and his sister were making their way through the crowded bazaar, escorted by
a dozen of their father's household guards. Thane, only fourteen at the time,
wasn't yet old enough to accompany his father to the negations. Even so, exposure
to foreign cities and cultures was an important part of any highborn Aeon's
education.

The merchants called out to them as they passed, holding out their wares,
practically demanding their immediate attention.

"Northern steel! Fine northern steel, direct from Dreshtae!" A stout red-haired man
called

out in Thane's direction. He held out an assortment of polished daggers that glowed
in the afternoon sunlight.

Another women took notice of Ashara's crystal earrings and produced similar pairs
from her own stand. Other traders tempted her with fine silks and scarves,
necklaces and rings. One Valasian man even tried to sell her a pair of exotic birds
from across the Sunrise Sea.

The two of them continued pressed on with an air of nonchalance, politely declining
the merchants' offers and letting their bodyguards clear the path ahead. But if
Thane knew his sister well-which he surely did-he knew she wouldn't be leaving
Kalamir without a souvenir of some sort.

They deviated from the main road down one of the darker streets. The buildings were
taller here, with palm trees and hanging tapestries blocking out the light. They
emerged from the other side in a large stone courtyard covered with large metal
cages.

Ashara wandered closer to investigate, causing Thane and the rest of their party to
follow suit. For a moment, he expected the cages to be filled with more exotic
animals from Valasia, perhaps apes or tigers. As they stepped closer however, they
realized that these cages didn't hold animals at all, but in-fact held several
dozen people.

They sat there thin, scarred and half-naked. The children were dirty, the women had
tangled hair and the men wore long, unkept beards. All of them hunched over with
their backs against the wall, avoiding the gaze of anyone who passed by.

Ashara took a nervous step toward her older brother, grabbing his arm and
whispering, "Why are

they in cages?"

Thane took a better look at their surroundings. "I think we're in the slave
market."

"Slave market?" Her eyes darted toward the row of cages, then back to Thane. "How?
I thought the Antarian Empire outlawed slavery over a century ago."

"They did," he explained. "But their laws only apply in Valaridor. This is a free
city with its own set of laws."

"I don't understand," Ashara said. "Father is here now, can't he just... force them
to free these people?"

"He probably could.... but these slavers aren't criminals by the laws of Kalamir.
If we came to this city with a foreign army- demanding that everyone follow our
laws-what do you think would happen?"

"We would start a war," she realized, fidgeting with one of her dark, intricate
braids. "But surely Dragonshard has a bigger army than this tiny island."

Thane nodded thoughtfully. "We're already fighting Ascalon and the Templars. If we
spread ourselves too thin, we'd be endangering our own home."

She frowned, obviously unconvinced. "At least we would be doing what's right.
Wouldn't Aegon favor us for that?"

Thane considered that for a moment, remembering similar arguments from the various
philosophy books his teachers had forced him to read over the years. "Even if we
weren't already occupied with the Templars, it's the innocents who suffer most in
war. If Clan Spectre sent their fleet to attack this city, how many innocents would
die before the magisters finally surrendered? How many soldiers would die, simply
for following orders?"

"Innocents are suffering either

way," Ashara noted. "Aren't we also responsible if we stand here doing nothing?"
She turned around, stepping closer to the cages.

This time, one of the slaves looked up to meet her gaze. She was a girl about their
age, with jet-black hair, a delicate face, and eyes like the Dragon Sea at sunset.
Thane noticed several scars on her back where it looked like she had been whipped
on several occasions. Despite this, her eyes were full of life and resolve. Even
locked up, she hadn't given up hope.

Ashara approached the cage as if to speak to the girl. But before she had the
chance to say anything, she was interrupted by a balding man who was built like a
blacksmith. "Hey now, no free looks girl! you're either here to buy, or you're-"

The Spectre guards were on the man in an instant, pushing him back several feet.
His giant body collided with the rusty iron bars behind him, startling the
occupants.

"You're speaking to the princess of Dragonshard, slaver." The guard pointed a

gloved finger at him. "Show some respect."

The slaver bowed his head and stepped aside, murmuring something that could have
been an apology. Thane followed his sister as she stepped closer to the cage,
leaning down to look at the girl.

"I'm Ashara," she said. "What's your name?"

The girl sat up straighter and cleared her throat. "Kira, my lady."

She gave her a reassuring smile. "How long have you been a slave, Kira?"

The girl shrugged. "Maybe a year... it's hard to tell sometimes."

"It's all right," Ashara told her. "I'm going to free you today."

The girl smiled

sadly as if it were a joke-as if she had been promised that before and knew better
than to get her hopes up.

Ashara rose to her feet again and looked around at the other slaves. Some were
alone like Kira, others belonged to families that risked being separated forever.
"We'll take them all," Ashara said to no one in particular.

This drew the immediate attention of the other slaves, the Spectre guards, and of
course, the slaver himself. He stood up straighter, regaining some of his former
courage. "All of them, milady?"

"All of them," she said sharply.

"They're twenty silver talents a head."

Ashara looked to her brother with hopeful eyes. Thane nodded in agreement as he
reached into his tunic to pull out a stack of gold coins "This should be more than
enough."

The slaver's eyes became suddenly round as he accepted the coin. "Very good,
milord."

"Now open the cages," Ashara ordered.

The slaver did as she asked, removing an absurdly large key ring from his belt and
opening each cage in turn. Even with the doors wide open, the slaves remained
perfectly still.

Ashara stepped forward, gesturing out toward the open market. "It's all right.
You're free now. I promise, no one will stop you."

Some of the younger slaves made a run for it, vanishing into the dark alleyways
before Ashara changed her mind. Most of them, however, simply stared at her in
shock and disbelief.

The message was clear. Even if they were free, they had been slaves far too make
their own decisions or go on alone. Their old lives were gone, and they had nowhere
else to go. He and Ashara were responsible for them now.

Thane walked over to Kira's cage to find the girl still sitting on the ground. He
offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.

"Do you have a home to go back to?" He asked.

"No, my lord. My parents are the ones who sold me into slavery... to pay off a
gambling debt, I'm never going back to them."

Thane nodded. "Then come with us back to Valaridor... to Dragonshard. We'll find
you a new place to call home."

=================

23: The Whole Truth

Nahlia found herself standing in the Ethereal that night, surrounded by waterfalls
and a lush green oasis. The water cascaded down from unnatural, twisting stone
structures and floating islands, all defying the usual laws of gravity. The air was
humid and smelled like rain and fresh oranges.
Thane was here as well; she could feel his mental energy emanating though the
landscape like a steady pulse. The deep footprints in the sand only confirmed her
suspicions.

Could their minds truly be connected through a pair of Ethereal shards? Nahlia
couldn't say for certain. She had gone through her belongings several times since
speaking to Marwyn, suspicious that Thane might have planted something that night
he visited the Moonstone Inn.

However, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Only a few personal items had survived
her fall into the river, and each of those had been with her for years-certainly
nothing that Thane would have an exact copy of.

She followed the footprints, eager to confront the other Aeon regarding everything
she had learned about him. The path led her to the edge of the oasis where she
found Thane's dark silhouette standing atop a large sand dune with the sun rising
behind him. His black hair and cloak blew freely in the desert wind.

Nahlia folded her arms and waited. She had no intention of wasting time with his
stories or idle banter today. It was time he gave her some real answers-who he
really was, and what he and his family wanted with Whitecliff Academy.

"Nahlia." Thane smiled, turning around to face her. "How have you been?"

"Sore,

tired and cold," she said with a casual shrug. "Although I have been getting some
reading done while I'm up here."

"Really?" He tilted his head, as if unsure what to make of that. "Read anything
interesting?"

"A bit." She knelt down and plucked a nearby flower from its stem and absently
began ripping off its petals. "Most of it was pretty dull... just some old books on
the great Aeon clans. But there was this one clan in particular that stood out...
they're from Dragonshard. Apparently, they have their own secret Aeon academy and
they've been interested in finding Whitecliff for years."

"Ah." A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but he hid it behind a quick smile.
"I take it you also saw my tattoo then."

"And you lied to me," Nahlia said. "You never told me you were from Clan Spectre."

"I never said I wasn't, and it's not like you asked."

"The first time we spoke, you specifically said you belonged to a lesser clan of no
significance."

Thane took a deep breath."We may be rich and powerful, but we're still considered
low-born in the eyes of most Aeons. Last I checked, there wasn't an Archaeon named
Spectre."

"No." She narrowed her eyes at him, beginning to sweat from the humidity and the
rising sun. "Your ancestors just lied and cheated their way to the top. Just like
you've been doing to me ever since we met."

Thane grimaced at that. "Is that what you think of me now, Nahlia? I may have
withheld a few things, but that's not the same as lying to you. I said I would free
your father in exchange for information on Whitecliff, and I intend to honor
that agreement."

"You also led me to believe your cause was noble," she retorted. "I need to know
what else you've been keeping from me. Otherwise the deal is off. I'll tell the
Headmaster everything."

Thane studied for her for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Fair enough I
suppose." He returned to the top of his sand dune, then pointed east to a place
where the desert met the ocean. "You see that city there?"

Nahlia had to squint her eyes to see past the intensity of the sun. The city was a
large collection of sand-colored geometric buildings on the horizon. While it
wasn't as large as Ascalon, it still looked heavily defensible, with walls over
fifty feet tall and watch towers at least twice that height.

"That's Dragonshard," Thane said. "My home. Since you've already been researching
me, I'm sure you're aware that we survived the Purge."

She nodded. "Everyone knows that you're at war with the humans now."

"That's true, but what most people don't know is that my father started losing
battles less than a year ago. The more we resisted the Templars, the more support
they rallied to their cause. Eventually, Dragonshard was surrounded by their army
and a siege was inevitable.

That made sense. As far as Nahlia knew, Dragonshard had never been conquered. A
siege would likely last for several years, draining resources on both sides.
Neither side would want that, but peace wasn't an option either. Only one
alternative remained.

"Your father gave you up as a hostage, didn't he?"

Thane nodded. "He knew that if the Templars had a way to control him-to ensure that

he didn't invade the Republic-they wouldn't need to attack Dragonshard."

She chewed on that for a moment. "But wait, you didn't look like a hostage when I
saw you in Dreshtae. Why didn't you run when you had the chance?"

"It's not that simple. I'm not the only hostage here. They have someone else;
someone I care about. The Templars would kill her if I left."

Of course, it was so obvious now, and she scolded herself for not realizing it
sooner. Unfortunately, this didn't improve their situation. It only meant that she
and Thane were in the exact same predicament, giving the Templars the advantage.

"How are you going to help my father then, if you're also a prisoner?"

"Saul Mason trusts me," Thane explained. "Ever since I started helping him find
Whitecliff, he's let me come and go as I please. I'm going to use that to my
advantage."

"How?"

"I'm going to sabotage their efforts here on Kyroth and the three of us are going
to escape. I have a plan, and as long as we do this right, no one needs to get
hurt. We'll all be free to go back home."
"And what about Whitecliff?" Nahlia asked. "You're still interested in finding it,
aren't you?"

"Sounds almost too good to be true," Nahlia said. "You're going to stop the entire
Templar Order on your own?"

Thane chuckled, raking his fingers through his black hair "You know it's funny...
your father said almost the exact same thing."

"My father?" Her face brightened and she turned to face him. "You spoke with him
than?"

"I promised you that I would, didn't it?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess you did. What else did he say?"

There was a short pause. "Honestly? He wants you to give up on him... he wants you
to leave Whitecliff and get far away from the Templars, out of Valaridor if you
can."

"That sounds like him." Nahlia smiled sadly. "How did he look?"

"He's looked better, but he's still strong."

She nodded again, taking in a sharp breath. "That's good... I guess"

Thane paused for a moment, then stepped forward. "You have the whole story now.
It's time to decide; are we still in this together?"

Nahlia didn't want to trust Thane, and she certainly didn't want to put everyone's
lives in his hands. But what was her alternative? To go on living her life in
Whitecliff, pretending everything was fine? Or worse, running away across the
Sunrise Sea and leaving her father to die in Kyroth?

Reluctantly, she nodded. "Just tell me what I need to do next."

"For now, I only need one thing: the names of the White Council members."

"The Templars asked you for that?" She folded her arms again. "Why?"

"They think one of the masters might be more dangerous than the others. They want
to take... precautions."

They're all dangerous, Nahlia thought. Vash was a battle hardened warrior who had
spent twenty years as a Seeker. Marwyn possessed a stronger command of the Ethereal
than any Aeon alive. Alveron had served in Emperor Antares's Honor Guard for
several years, and Zidane was a mysterious foreigner who could hold any number of
secrets.

Still, she told him all of their names and positions within the Academy. For now,
it seemed like a small price to pay. She only hoped that Thane's plan worked. Not
just for her own sake, but for the sake of every Aeon in the North.

"I'll get this information to the Templars and get back to you as soon as I can,"
Thane told her. "Don't worry, this will all be over soon."

=================
24: Just a Boy

Thane awoke to darkness in the dungeons of Kyroth. Everything was cold and quiet,
save for the sound of Ashara's soft breathing beside him. Moonlight streamed in
through the cell's tiny window, painting the stone floor in shades of bone and
silver.

Reluctantly, he slipped out from under the blankets and rose to his feet-never a
pleasant experience in a place where the temperatures often dropped below freezing.

Thane closed his eyes, reaching out his mind to the pair of torches that hung in
the corridor. He took a few deep breaths, drawing forth a small bit of energy from
them both. The warmth streamed into him, filling his body with newfound strength.

A part of him wanted to take more energy from the fire-to put a stop to this game
and go home. With all the fires that burned in Kyroth, he knew he could summon the
power to break out now if he wanted. It would be so easy...

But no, he had to be patient. He had a job to do here, and his father would never
forgive him if he left it undone. Just a few more days, and this would all be over.

Behind him, Ashara stirred and cracked open her eyes. "Going so soon?"

"Sorry," Thane whispered. "I have some things I need to take care of this morning."

She sat up in the bed, pulling Thane's share of the blankets around herself. "Were
you talking to your father?"

"No, it was Nahlia this time. She gave me more information on Whitecliff."

Ashara nodded. "I don't know how you get any rest in that place..."

"What? The Ethereal?"

"Yeah... Seems sort of counter-intuitive, doesn't it? Always working

on important Aeon business in your sleep while your brain is supposed to be

resting."

Thane chuckled and shook his head. "Dreaming isn't all that bad. It's our thoughts
that enter the Ethereal, not our brains."

"Hmmm..." She considered that for a moment, her blue eyes dancing in the moonlight.
"Aren't your thoughts apart of your brain though?"

"No... not exactly. Thoughts are made of energy; they travel through our brains
like a current, the same way water might flow through a canyon. The canyon provides
a path for the water, but the water isn't part of the canyon itself.

That's why our thoughts can leave our bodies and enter the Ethereal."

Ashara nodded along as he spoke. "And what happens when your brain runs out of
thoughts?"

Thane turned to regard her. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "You're the one who told me that no energy is free. So if you use up
all your thoughts while dreaming, then where do you get new ones?"

Now it was Thane's turn to think. He never did pay much attention to his science
instructors; most of what they taught him seemed more theoretical than applicable.
"Well, I guess... our bodies would have to provide the energy for more thoughts
then."

Ashara sat up straighter, a triumphant smile crossing our face. "Well then... It
appears I was right; your body does have to work harder when you dream."

Thane couldn't help but return her smile. "And here I thought your inner-
philosopher didn't come out until noon."

She grinned. "I guess it pays to be well-rested. You should try it sometime."

"Don't worry,"

Thane said. "We'll be back in Dragonshard before we know it. There will be plenty
of time to rest then."

Ashara glanced around the room and let out a long, dramatic sigh. "You know... if
it weren't for the cold, I might actually miss this place. As far as cells go, it's
by far the most spacious I've ever been in."

Thane chuckled. "And hopefully the last."

***

Once he was upstairs in his own bedchamber, Thane pulled out a roll of parchment
and wrote down the names and titles that Nahlia had given him:

Alveron, Headmaster

Zidane, Chronicler

Marwyn, Master Physician

Vash, Battlemaster

Vaulden, Master Rhetorician

He recognized most of the names as prominent Aeon families from Valaridor and
Valasia, although none stood out as particularly notorious.

Which one did the Knight Commander want assassinated? He hoped against hope that
this was all some mistake-that the so-called "dangerous Aeon" that Saul spoke of
wasn't on the White Council at all. While Nahlia might trade information for her
father's life, she certainly wouldn't harm anyone directly.

He made his way across Kyroth's central courtyard and arrived outside the Knight
Commander's chambers a few minutes later. He hadn't actually expected Saul to be
awake at this hour, so he was surprised when he saw candlelight flooding out from
under the door.

Thane let himself inside, ignoring the usual protocols of

going through Gallow to make an official appointment. Thane couldn't care less
about their military protocols. As long as no one stopped him, he did as he
pleased. Just one more reason the other Templars despised him.

He stepped inside to find the Knight Commander sitting at his desk with the windows
propped open. Stray snowflakes dusted the window sills and the stone floor of the
room. Outside, the sky had shifted from a deep blue to a faint violet as morning
rose in the East.

Saul only spared him a quick glance "Thane... I trust you have something for me?"

Thane tossed the parchment on the Knight Commander's desk. "The names of the White
Council, as requested."

Saul unrolled the parchment, scanning it briefly. A few heartbeats passed, then he
made a face that was somewhere between a smile and a sigh. "I knew it..."

"Are you going to let me in on this secret now?" Thane asked.

"Alveron."

The word hung between them for a moment, huge, dark and poisoned.

Thane just shrugged.

"You might know him better as the masked Aeon," Saul continued. "The one who burned
Idemre."

Thane grimaced. "What are you talking about? That Aeon was never identified."

"Not officially," he replied. "But I was there... I may not have seen his face, but
I saw a man dressed in the golden armor of Emperor Anteres's Honor Guard... wearing
the sigil of Clan Alveron on his chest plate."

Thane remained unconvinced. There were as many theories about this masked Aeon as
there were... well, Aeons. It seemed like every member of his race

was either taking credit or being blamed for the event. Alveron may have been one
of the prime suspects, but so were a dozen others, including Thane's own father.

"There were other witnesses there who claimed to see different things," Thane
offered. "And even if you saw Alveron's sigil, it could still be a setup."

"No," The Knight Commander shook his head. "Anyone who got a closer look than me
was killed. And I've been researching this for twenty years. Idemre was in the Vale
of Alveron. It made sense for the Emperor to send an assassin who knew the land
best.

"All the pieces fit" he went on. "That monster killed my family... burned my
hometown. Hell, he's the reason I became a Templar."

Thane regarded him thoughtfully. "Is is true what they say then? That the entire
town stood between the masked Aeon and Nathaniel Mason to protect him?"

"Aye," he replied. "It's true. They believed that Aeons were no different than us.
That if we stood up to them, we could defeat them."

Thane nodded. "But Alveron proved you wrong."

"For a time. But the Purge proved us right. We may have lost that night, but it
represented something greater. Eventually, all of Valaridor stood up to your kind,
and we won."

Thane leaned back in his chair. "If you were really there in Idemre, then how did
you survive while the rest of the town burned?"

"I hid in the nearby forest," Saul admitted. "I went there as soon as Alveron
showed up."

"So... You ran and hid?"

"Aye, I did."

"Wow." Thane chuckled. "Never would've figured... the Knight Commander of the
Templar

Order was a coward."

"Knight Commander?" Saul shook his head and snorted. "I was just a boy. A boy about
your age, actually. There were enough martyrs that day, I had nothing to gain by
becoming one of them. I ran because I wanted to live. I wanted the chance to avenge
my father and make this world a safer place from monsters like Alveron."

"Almost sounds noble," Thane said. "But I think you're still a coward now."

The Knight Commander raised an eyebrow. "You've got a heavy pair on you, talking to
me like that, boy."

Thane ignored him and continued. "if I'm understanding this right, you don't really
want to avenge your father. You're afraid to fight Alveron yourself so you want
Nahlia Cole to murder him for you."

"This has nothing to do with fear," Saul shot back. "People who fight with fire are
monsters. I'll send my men to face Aeons on the battlefield, but I refuse to let
them be roasted alive in their armor. When we march on Whitecliff, I intend to give
them a fair fight."

"A fair fight? You have at least two-thousand men here in the North. What is that-
ten times the number of Aeons in Whitecliff?"

Saul took a long drink of his wine. "I never said I didn't plan to win."

"Well it doesn't matter," Thane said. "I already told you before: killing someone
wasn't part of our deal."

"The deal was you help us get into Whitecliff," Saul said. "And we can't do that
with Alveron as the Headmaster."

"Yeah, well... Maybe you should have thought of that sooner."

He nodded. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should march my men back

to Dragonshard and go after your father like we originally planned. Is that what
you want from me?"

"Please." Thane stifled a laugh. "If you're afraid of Alveron, we both know you
wouldn't dare attack my father."

"You're right," Saul said. "It's a stupid idea. But I think I speak for all of us
when I say I'd rather be out of this frozen wasteland. How about we make you a new
deal-just you and me this time?"

"Fine," Thane sighed. "I'm listening."

"If you take care of this for me, you and your sister are free to go home, and I'll
consider Dragonshard a sovereign nation."

"A sovereign nation? Since when do the Templars have the authority to grant that?"

"The Republic might not like it, but they can't attack you without my army. And I
give you my word: As long as I'm Knight Commander of the Templar Order, no Templar
will ever set foot in your city."

Thane raised an eyebrow. "And what about Nahlia and her father? What about
Whitecliff's location?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Take them with you. I'll find another way into
Whitecliff."

The thought was tempting; Thane couldn't deny that. If he did as Saul asked, Nahlia
and her father would be reunited. And he would be free to return to Dragonshard...
He could marry Kira, just like he promised.

Perhaps he could even save the Aeons of Whitecliff. Even if their Headmaster was
killed that didn't mean Thane couldn't warn them of the Templar attack and save who
he could.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Thane finally asked.

"Because. Believe it or not Thane, I respect you. You've been my hostage for almost
a year, and you've never caused a single problem or harmed any of my men. If you do
this, then as far as I'm concerned, you'll have earned your freedom."

"Besides, we both know you could break out of here if you wanted. You've been
looking for a peaceful solution, and now I'm giving you one." The Knight commander
stood and extended his hand. "Now... do we have a deal?"

=================

25: The Faintest Scar

Nahlia followed the rest of Wolfe Clan down the series of stone walkways and stairs
that connected Whitecliff's main courtyard to the Gorge. It was a perfect evening
for battleground training. The air was cool and crisp, and a soft layer of clouds
obscured the sun which was dropping slowly toward the distant horizon.

The Gorge itself was especially peaceful at this time. Before today, Nahlia had
only been down here in the early mornings when the canyon walls echoed with the
thunderous footsteps and shouts of all seven battleground clans.

There was none of that now. Instead, a heavy, tangible silence filled the canyon.
Its icy walls glowed like massive diamonds in the evening sun, and Nahlia finally
saw the natural beauty of this place.

They were sitting in the snow doing their warm-up stretches when Elias came jogging
down the stone stairs-captain's ledger in hand.
"All right everyone, listen up. I just got word from Vash that our match against
Howler Clan will be Capture the Flag."

Relic made a face. "Great. Of course we'd get stuck with Ciena's best game."

"I wouldn't worry too much about her," Elias said. "She's strong on offense, sure.
But if I know my sister, she wont give much thought to general strategy. More
likely she'll try to rush us and hope for the best."

"Speaking of strategy," Yimo began. "What's ours?"

"I have a few ideas," he replied. "But before we get into that, we need to make
sure our newest member is familiar with the rules." Elias turned to look at Nahlia
who was sitting at the back of the group.

"Already taken

care of," Relic said. "I filled her in this morning."

"Good." Elias smiled, folding his arms expectantly. "Let's hear them."

Nahlia stood up and cleared her throat, trying not to blush as everyone turned
around to look at her. Fortunately, she had already spent several days memorizing
the battleground rules-even before Relic filled her in. Since her combat training
was going slow, she intended to make up for it with knowledge.

"Each clan has a home base on either side of the Gorge where we keep our flags."
She gestured to the now-empty metal pole in the center of their base, indicating
where Wolfe Clan's own flag might hang. "Our goal is to steal the enemy's flag
while protecting our own. To score, we need to capture their flag with our own
still at the base."

"So far so good," Elias said. "What about the scoring system?"

She paused, but only for a second. "Picking up the enemy flag is worth ten points,
capturing it is worth one hundred points. Eliminating the enemy flag carrier is
worth twenty-five points, returning our flag is ten points, and eliminating an
enemy in our home base is also worth ten points."

He nodded. "And what about eliminating an enemy in the middle of the field, away
from any flags?"

"Is it... one point?" It was only a guess, but it must have been right because
Elias nodded in approval.

"Okay, last question: How many rounds are there, and how long do they last?"

"Five rounds," she said at once. "Each round has a twelve minute time limit, but
they typically end when one team reaches three-hundred points, or when they

eliminate every member of the opposing team. "

Elias gave her another approving nod. "All right, I'm impressed. But knowing the
rules is one thing, let's see how you do with a practice game." He picked up an
assortment of training swords as if to pass them out. "The teams will be Nahlia and
myself, versus Relic, Marcus and Yimo. We should probably-"

"Wait," Relic interjected. "Aren't you forgetting something, captain?"

Elias gave her a look, and she gestured toward Nahlia. "She hasn't used these
swords yet."

"Ah, That's right." Elias sighed, raking a hand through his blond hair. "The
Yuchani poison..."

"Poison?" Nahlia asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "These swords aren't sharp, but they are coated with a layer of
Yuchani poison that simulates the effects of an actual battle wound. Basically, if
someone hits you in the arm, your arm goes numb for the next five to ten minutes.
Same thing for anywhere else on your body."

"The Academy also has a rule," he continued. "No one is allowed to handle a
poisoned blade until they've experienced the effects of one first."

Nahlia's stomach clenched as the realization dawned on her. A part of her had hoped
that she could avoid getting hit all together, but perhaps that was wishful
thinking anyway.

"And... how come we use these poisoned swords instead of the wooden ones we use in
regular combat practice?" she asked.

"Believe it or not, this way is actually safer," Elias explained. "If we played
Capture the Flag with wooden swords, people would hit each other too hard-
especially the flag

runners. The Yuchani poison might hurt more than a wooden sword, but there's no
risk of long-term damage."

"How badly does it hurt, exactly?"

Elias paused for a moment. "Just... try to remind yourself that the wound isn't
real. More often than not, people panic their first time, and that makes the pain
worse than it really is. As long as you relax and accept it, your body will move on
faster."

"Okay." Nahlia took a deep breath. "Let's get this over with."

He nodded, pulling one of the training swords from its sheath. "Since it's your
first time, it might take the poison longer to wear off-sometimes up to a half-
hour. In any case, I'd recommend you choose your non-dominant arm."

Nahlia held out her right arm and braced herself for the pain. Atleast it can't be
worse than a crossbow bolt...

Elias brought his sword in gently, but the poison made it feel like her arm was
splitting open. The pain came in waves: first it was hot like boiling blood, then
cold, like a thousand tiny icicles piercing her nerves. After a moment, her arm
grew so numb that she lost any sensation at all.

Elias reached out a hand to steady her, but she soon regained her own footing.

"It's all right," she said. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

Nahlia nodded and took a few deep breathes-pushing out the pain from her body. She
imagined the numbness fading as well, gradually bringing life and feeling back into
her arm.

She wiggled the fingers on her right hand. Then, with great effort, she managed to
raise the arm again.

Elias's eyes widened when he saw this.

"Wait, that was less than a minute!"

Relic exclaimed. "How'd you do that?"

"She must be immune or something," Yimo said.

"I'm not immune," Nahlia replied. "My arm didn't work for a second. All I did was
imagine the numbness away like you told me."

Yimo rubbed his stubbled chin. "So... you have a high tolerance for the poison?"

"No, I have a high tolerance," Elias said. "And that hit would have affected me for
at least five minutes. This is something different."

"There's definitely something different about her," Relic chimed in. "The Templars
hit her with a crossbow bolt a week ago and she was on her feet the next day."

"Barely," Nahlia added.

"Come to think of it," Relic said, taking a closer look. "Didn't you have a giant
gash on your forehead when we first met?"

"Well, yeah." Nahlia shifted uneasily in the snow as they all stared at her. "But
that was days ago."

"Didn't your crossbow wound also heal in only a few days?" Relic asked.

"I've always been a quick healer," Nahlia said. "I guess I assumed all Aeons were."

"No." Elias shook his head. "Our bodies aren't much different from humans in that
regard."

"Can you imagine her as a flag runner?" Yimo said with a rare show of excitement.
"If someone hits her, she can keep running!"

Elias grinned. "I was just thinking the exact same thing."

"We should test it out!" Relic suggested. "Give her the flag and see if she can
hold on to it after being hit."

Nahlia's eyes flickered back and forth between them as they talked, and she rubbed
her arm. While the Yuchani poison wasn't as bad

as she imagined, that didn't mean she wanted to experience its effects again. And
she certainly didn't share their carefree approach to violence and temporary
incapacitation.

Besides, her arm still hurt. Even if it wasn't numb anymore, she couldn't help but
feel like they were overestimating her abilities.

"We could try a spinal cord hit,"Yimo said eagerly. "If she can recover from that,
she can probably recover from anything."

"Good idea," Relic said. "Even if it affects her for a minute, she could still
surprise the enemy team when she gets back up."

Nahlia cleared her throat. "I suppose no one's going to ask me if I actually want
to get hit again?"

The rest of Wolfe Clan turned to look at her, then she nearly cringed at the bold
statement.

"Come on," Relic said. "Please! You can't just show us this supernatural healing
ability of yours and not expect us to get excited by it."

"She has a point," Elias added. "If this works, you could be Wolfe Clan's new
secret weapon."

Despite her best efforts, Nahlia smiled a bit at that. With her other combat
training not going as well as she hoped, it would be nice to have at least one
useful skill in the battlegrounds.

"All right," she finally said. "Let's give it a try."

Elias stood behind her this time, letting the sword come in contact on her upper-
back.

The pain came in waves like before. Only this time the numbness spread throughout
her entire body. She fell face foreword and Elias had to catch her.

Her body felt unnaturally heavy as he laid her down in

the snow, leaving her to gaze directly at the orange and violet sky. She wanted to
close her eyes and drift off. She wanted to...

Nahlia clenched her teeth and forced herself to stay awake. She took several deep
breaths-each one taking hold of the numbness and forcing it out.

Then slowly, the sensations came back to her in waves. The pain in her spine
returned. Cold snow stung the back of her neck.

Nahlia continued to concentrate, moving her fingers and her toes. Then after taking
another moment to gather her strength, she stood up again. Her legs stung like a
thousand needles, and she felt about as coordinated as she did after three glasses
of wine.

Despite all this, she stood.

"Aegon above..." Relic whispered.

The others only stared at her in disbelief, as if she had miraculously risen from
the dead.

Nahlia couldn't help but smile "So.... Should we tell someone about this?"

"Only if you want to," Elias said. "Personally, I'm supposed to inform Marwyn if
students have any harmful reactions to the poison. But you don't seem to have that
problem. Quite the opposite, really."

Relic nodded in agreement. "Besides, people will find out anyway during our match
with Howler Clan. Until then, we might as well keep it a secret."

They spent the rest of the evening going over various strategies, playing a few
practice games of Capture the Flag and doing additional experiments with the
Yuchani poison.

As the evening went on, she only got better at repelling the its effects.
Sometimes, if she concentrated hard enough, she could even stop the numbness before
it happened.

***

Back in the privacy of her bed chamber, Nahlia cast aside her Wolfe Clan battle
garb and underclothes. She hadn't looked at her crossbow wound ever since that day
in the infirmary when she had her stitches removed, but all this talk of
'supernatural healing abilities' got her wondering. What did the wound look like
now?

Nahlia had seen the damage left by crossbows before. Her father had two scars; one
on his right arm and one on his shoulder-each one was about as wide as a silver
penny.

Nahlia expected to find something similar. However, when she looked in the mirror
to examine the spot below her left breast, there was nothing there.

What? How's that even possible?

Less than a week ago, this had been a life threatening wound-the worst she had ever
received. Now the skin was perfectly smooth... not even the faintest scar.

=================

26: Merciless

In the darkness of early dawn, the storm above Whitecliff churned with the wrath of
an approaching army. Nahlia and the rest of Wolfe Clan waited inside the tunnel at
the edge of the Gorge. A pair of heavy wooden doors were all that stood between
them and the arena beyond.

"We can use this weather to our advantage," Elias said-his voice muffled beneath a
slate gray scarf. "If the four of you break up into two separate squads, you should
be able to slip by their offense undetected. Let them come to me instead."

Elias seemed so calm as he spoke. Aegon... They all seemed so calm. As if this were
no less ordinary than going to breakfast in the mess hall. Meanwhile, It was all
Nahlia could do to keep herself from shaking. She had been forced to fight for her
life before, but waiting on the edge of a fight was even worse. There was no rush
of adrenaline; just cold, empty anxiety.

She clutched the hilt of her sword, and Images of her mother dying flashed before
her-the screaming, the blood, the sounds of flesh against steel as Saul Mason
plunged the saw-toothed dagger into her heart. Her mother-who had been with her all
her life-cast down in the blink of an eye.

Nahlia forced the memory away, only to be hit with another image of Cassandra
Raider slaying the three Templar soldiers in the Hinterlands. She could still
remember their shrieks of pain as they died... how the smell of their blood clung
to her for days. Nahlia didn't know them, but surely they had families of their
own-parents, siblings, wives and children. People who

would experience loss, just as she had.

Violence only brought death and destruction... so why was she here now, being a
part of it?

Because... it's the only way to protect the people you care about, Nahlia reminded
herself. She was an Aeon soldier now-a member of Whitecliff's top battleground
clan. She wouldn't shy away from battle; she had to be strong.

"This is it!" Elias called out, snapping her mind back to reality. "Get ready."

The wooden gates open swung, letting out a heavy creak that was almost lost in the
howl of the wind. The audience roared with applause as Wolfe Clan followed their
captain to the center of their base. Sleet and snow mixed with the rain, shooting
down in violent sheets all around them.

Elias drew his swords from their sheaths and the others followed his lead. The snow
crunched beneath Nahlia's leather boots as she ran, hard and heavy. Her own sword
felt unnaturally clumsy in her stiff, half-frozen fingers.

"Split here!" Elias had to shout to be heard over the storm. "Relic and Marcus, you
take right flank. Yimo and Nahlia, go left. Remember: Don't engage the enemy unless
you have to."

No sooner had he given the command than they broke apart into two separate squads.
Nahlia stuck close to Yimo so as not to lose him in the mess of sleet and fog.

The smaller Aeon moved faster than she could have imagined-taking narrow shortcuts,
ducking under even the lowest hanging obstacles, weaving his way through the arena
as if guided by pure muscle memory and intuition.

They arrived in

the enemy base only a few minutes later. Howler Clan's flag hung on its metal pole,
thrashing about in the wind. If they had anyone guarding it, they were obscured by
the rain.

"They're out there," Yimo assured her. "We just need to draw them out. You create a
diversion by going for the flag. I'll handle the guards."

"What? Me?" Nahlia turned to regard her companion but he was already gone.

"Blast," she cursed under her breath.

Having no other choice, Nahlia stood and dashed toward the flag. Her world emptied
of anything except for the deep red fabric billowing against a blur of white and
gray.

She was half-way there when a member of Howler Clan emerged form the mist, swords
out and ready.

Come on, Yimo. Where are you?

Nahlia snatched the flag, pivoted, and took off in the opposite direction. The
warning cannon sounded, and another member of Howler Clan emerged from the curtain
of falling rain.

She clenched her teeth and quickened her pace. Maybe if she ran fast enough, she
could actually-

A blade slapped her hard between the shoulders and she fell face-first into the
snow. The hit was brutal, and she realized just how gentle her own clan had been
with her during their practice games.

Focus, Nahlia, she scolded herself as she tried to move her numb body. Get up.
Yimo's counting on you.

The cacophony of sleet and thunder was joined by the clashing of swords. Nahlia
turned her head just enough to see Yimo dodging and weaving through their attacks.

Focus. Deep breaths,

just like before.

She pushed away the negative energy. The fear, the doubt, the pain. And finally,
the numbness that pinned her to the earth. When she finally managed to regain her
footing, Yimo was standing over the numb bodies of the two Howler Clan members.

"Let's get out of here," he said. "You want me to take the flag?"

"It's all yours." Nahlia removed it from her belt and passed it to him, more than
eager to be rid of the thing.

"Stay close," he told her, just as he took off in another sprint down one of the
trenches

Their retreat was even faster than their attack. Somewhere in the middle of the
Gorge, they rendezvoused with Relic and Marcus.The pair of them joined Nahlia to
form a protective ring around their flag carrier.

The fog of war grew denser as they ran. At this point, her clan members could lead
her off the edge of a cliff and she wouldn't even realize until it was too late.

They passed by a tall ridge just as lightning split the sky, illuminating two dark
figures above them.

"Look out!" Nahlia bellowed as she came to a halt, wiping the sleet from her eyes.

The figures descended from the ridge, raining down on Wolfe Clan with swords
extended. Kalak Demeron-Howler Clan's former captain-struck Relic in the shoulder,
causing her to fall to the ground.

A slender man from Howler CLan exchanged blows with Marcus for only a brief second
before landing a hit on his thigh, followed by another in his chest.

Everything happened so fast that it took Nahlia a moment to remember that she had a

sword as well. As both men turned their attentions toward Yimo, Nahlia charged and
struck the slender man from behind, landing a clean hit on his back.

Kalak Demeron came down on Yimo with a blow that could have crushed the tiny Aeon.
Fortunately, Yimo was too quick for him. Like a flash of lightning, he sidestepped
the blow, taking Kalak in the leg. Nahlia finished him off with a blow to the
chest.
"Nice work," Yimo said through several deep breaths.

She nodded wearily. "How much farther?"

"Just over this ridge," he gestured. "Be careful. Ciena's still out there
somewhere."

***

Ciena spun her quarterstaff, attacking her brother in an alternating rhythm of

attacks: left-right-left-right. Elias parried, dodged, twisted and parried again,
turning back her relentless assault.

Between the speed of the dual and the chaos of the storm, neither of them had any
time to think. They had to react purely on instinct-on the expereince they had
gained over their years training together.

Ciena had always been second best in Whitecliff. Never as strong as her brother,
never as elegant or percise. Despite all that, he could never have her fire. While
Elias shyed away from the storm, she embraced it-letting each burst of lighting
fill her with a fresh wave of fury.

Her next round of attacks sent Elias into a partial retreat, forcing him to revert
back to basic defensive sequences.

There was a brief lull in the action just as Yimo and the half-blood emerged from
one of the trenches. They raised they swords, each one

taking a place at their captains side.

Could the rest of Howler Clan be any more useless? No... but it doesn't matter,
Ciena thought. It's time for this academy to realize who their new champion is.

Lighting struck again, and Ciena embraced its power, letting herself become a force
of nature.

"We'll take her together," Elias said to his clan members. "Are you with me?"

They nodded, raising their own swords.

Ciena raised her own weapon above her head, spinning it so fast it was nothing but
a blur. "Come and try."

And then she charged them, unleashing her energy in a tremendous rush of power. She
channeled it through her muscles and limbs, moving

so fast that the rest of the world fell still by comparision.

The three of them tried to hit her, but it was like striking the wind. A storm
raged throughout her body, and Ciena fought back with more speed and strength than
she had ever thought possible.

First Nahlia fell. Then Yimo. And finally, Elias.

Ciena set out a sigh of relief, breathing heavily as she stood over their paralyzed
bodies. She had done it. She had beaten not only her brother, but three members of
Wolfe Clan at the same time.
***

Cold water ran down Nahlia's cheeks as she forced herself to her feet. Ciena Raider
had escaped with both flags, and everyone else had been eliminated. If she made it
back to her base, she would win.

But all Nahlia had to do now was stop her. Just one hit, and Wolfe Clan would be
victorious.

Come on, Nahlia.

You can do this.

She broke into a run down the rocky trench. Panting, a sharp pain in her side, she
didn't slow down until the other girl was within her sights. Elias had been right
about one thing; this storm gave her the element of surprise. As long as she was
careful, she could sneak up on her without-

Ciena whipped around and raised her quarterstaff defensively. A look of utter shock
crossed her face.

Nahlia smiled in response-the thrill of battle rising within her. After shrugging
off two paralyzing blows and dispatching two members of Howler Clan, beating CIena
Raider didn't seem as far-fetched as it had before.

The other girl stepped closer-her quarterstaff dancing slowly through the air,
moving as if it were alive.

Nahlia swallowed hard, raising her own sword in response. It was too late to turn
back now.

Ciena lunged forward, coming down in a savage overhead strike that Nahlia was just
barely able to parry. She tried to step back, but Ciena was too quick. She spun her
staff around, attacking with the opposite blade.

Nahlia managed to block the strike, but the force sent her own sword flying free
from her hands. When Ciena came in for the finishing blow, Nahlia raised her
forearms and blocked it.

Ciena lurched back, clearly expecting the Nahlia's arms to turn numb and weigh her
down.

Only they didn't.

Nahlia forced the numbness away before it could affect her. Ciena's eyes widened
with disbelief when she saw Nahlia not only move her arms again, but lean down and
pick up her sword as well.

The shock turned to rage almost at once. Ciena charged her again, batting away her
sword with ease and landing several hits in her ribcage. This time Nahlia felt her
rips crack from the impact, which was no trick of the poison.

Ciena spun her staff and hit her again, this time in the cheekbone. The strike
shredded through her skin, drawing blood.

Nahlia fell back into a small alcove, away from the audience's line of sight. She
raised her hands in submission as Ciena stepped closer. "Ciena stop," she cried
out. "I surrender!"
"Oh no," she hissed. "You had your chance..."

Ciena cast her weapon aside, raising her fists instead.

Rain and tears flooded Nahlia's vision, and her arms were too numb to clear them
away. Ciena's figure was a dark blur as she grabbed Nahlia by the hair and pushed
her hard against the stone wall. Her head swam. She tasted blood.

Then nothing at all.

=================

27: One Mistake

Ciena sat at the foot of her bed, pulling her legs tight against her chest. Five
hours had passed since their match against Wolfe Clan... since the Battlemaster
pulled her away from Nahlia Cole's unconscious body and declared her disqualified.

As far as she knew, Nahlia was still unconscious in the infirmary. Everyone said
she would be fine. In fact, rumors of her "supernatural healing abilities" were
spreading through the academy like wildfire. Apparently, not only was she immune to
the Yuchani poison, she had also survived a near-fatal wound while evading the
Templars.

Ciena didn't believe any of that. More likely, the half-blood had cheated the
poison, and her "wound" from the Templars was mere some ploy to cover up the fact
that she was in league with them.

Too restless to sit any longer, Ciena rose on unstable feet. Slightly dazed, she
began pacing the room.

Five hours... and still no word from the White Council regarding her fate. She
hated being cooped up in this room with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her
attention... but where else could she go? The rest of Howler Clan wanted nothing to
do with her; neither did Wolfe Clan.

She considered going to the mess hall, but decided against it. The only thing worse
than being alone was enduring the judgmental stares and comments of her fellow
students.

"She's gone mad," they would whisper. "Attacking anyone who so much as looks at her
the wrong way."

Followed by, "Shhh! Not so loud! You want to be next on her hit list?"

Maybe they were right. Sometimes, even Ciena

had trouble explaining why she was so aggressive. Her actions had felt completely
justified down in the Gorge. Now the guilt overwhelmed her nearly as much as the
fury that had wrought it.

When she glimpsed her reflection in the mirror, two tired, icy eyes stared back.
Her hair hung disheveled around her face-barely held together in two unraveling
braids. Her face and clothing were still stained with the dirt, sweat and dried
blood from the battlegrounds.
Ciena's eyes darted away from the image, unable to hold her own gaze for more than
a few heartbeats. She was spared the need to look again when there was a light
knock on the door.

"What?" she snapped.

"Apprentice Raider?" came a small, timid voice-probably a messenger boy. "The White
Council requests your presence."

Great.... Let's get this over with then.

Ciena held her head high as she made walked through the academy's lower halls and
courtyard. Pushing through their condemning stares felt like plowing through three
feet of snow. Still, she made sure they saw nothing less that what they expected-
the Lioness of Raidenwood in all her pride and resolve.

She stood even taller as she passed through the double wooden doors of the council
chamber. The eyes she met inside were not friendly, and there was an uncomfortable
chill in the air. She swore they did that on purpose just to make students
uncomfortable.

To make matters worse, one of Zidane's scribes sat near the entryway with a
portable desk, several sheets of paper, and a well of ink. That meant this was no
casual reprimand; it was a formal disciplinary

hearing.

As usual, Headmaster Alveron was the first to break the silence. "Let the record
show that on Palandal, the sixteenth of Fellmon, Apprentice Ciena Raider is accused
of Violence with Malicious Intent against Apprentice Nahlia Cole who was unarmed at
the time."

The scribe's pen scratched across the paper as he spoke.

"Master Physician, the damage report, if you would."

Marwyn cleared his throat. "Three broken ribs. Broken nose. Three stitches on
forehead. One black eye. Open cuts on cheek and lip. Still unconscious to best of
knowledge."

Ciena drew a long, shaky breath as Marwyn ran through his list. She had injured her
fellow students plenty of times, but it was usually no more than a single gash.

"Apprentice Raider," Alveron said, his voice still stern. "Do you deny this
charge?"

"No." Ciena shook her head solemnly.

"And do you have anything to say in your defense?"

She considered telling them about the storm-how it had filled her with an almost
uncontrollable rage. But no... with her history of violence and aggression, she
knew they would dismiss it as either a lie or a delusion.

"I didn't mean for it to get out of hand," she said earnestly. "I only meant to
stun her. I just-I got so frustrated when she was immune to the Yuchani poison."

"No. Not immune," Marwyn said. "Impossible. Only fast recovery time."
Ciena's face hardened. "With all due respect Master, she caught my staff with her
bare hands. Everyone saw it. It was clearly an unfair advantage."

Vash raised a finger at her. "If you suspect someone of

cheating, Apprentice, you call for a timeout. You do not take matters into your own
hands."

"Regardless," Alveron said. "We will speak with Apprentice Cole when she awakens,
and no sooner. Moving on with the grievance at hand..." The Headmaster turned to
ZIdane on his left. "Master Chronicler, what is the punishment for this charge?"

Zidane steepled his fingers. "For Violence with Malicious Intent against an unarmed
student, the offending student will face suspension from all duels and
battlegrounds outside of practice environments. No less than two weeks no more than
four months."

Ciena was braced to hear it, but it was a blow nonetheless. The idea of going an
entire month without any combat...

"Very well," Alveron said. "Given the nature of Apprentice Cole's injuries, I move
for the full four month suspension. "All in favor-"

"Wait!" Ciena Interjected. "Headmaster, I graduate in less than four months."

"Yes," Alveron said. "I'm aware of that."

"You mean to tell me I can't fight anyone until after graduation?"

Ciena cringed at how desperate her voice sounded now.

"Your anger is unchecked, Raider," Vash said. "If you can't learn to control
yourself, there isn't a Seeker in Valaridor who will take you on as an apprentice-
even after graduation."

"I'm the top fighter in this academy," she retorted. "I'm a clan captain, and I
beat my brother today-three against one."

Vash shook his head. "Those achievements aren't half as important as you think they
are. We need rational and disciplined soldiers for the fight

against the Templars, not mindless killers."

"This is ridiculous!" Ciena clenched her fists, her palms slippery with
perspiration "It was one mistake!"

"It goes beyond that," Zidane said, leaning back in his chair. "We've interviewed
several students today, and they all claimed that you've threatened Apprentice Cole
on multiple occasions."

"You're actually siding with her now? A complete stranger-a half-blood-who for all
we know is a Templar spy?"

"Enough," Alveron said. "I've already told you; we're here to talk about you, not
Apprentice Cole."

"Well, maybe that's the problem," Ciena said. A part of her knew she was going too
far now, but they were already banning her from the battlegrounds. She had nothing
else to lose. "You spend years training us to fight, and then punish us for it. You
tell us that humans are the enemy, and than you admit a half-blood into the
Academy."

Alveron sighed. "She may be suspicious, but she's still one of us. We can't start
turning young Aeons away without evidence. If you know something that we don't-"

"For Aegon's sake," Ciena interjected. "Her father was a Templar! What more
evidence do you need?"

"Watch yourself, Raider," Vash said. "Remember who you're speaking to."

"I'm speaking to a bunch of incompetent old men," she said. "This Academy has been
safe for two-hundred years and now the five of you are going to bring it down
because of your failure to see what's right in front of you!"

"That's enough!" Alveron stood up, his gray robes billowing. "Speak out of turn
again,

and you'll spend the night in the cells."

Ciena jet her jaw as they continued with the vote. This pathetic excuse for the
leaders of her race-taking away everything she had worked for in the blink of an
eye.

***

She didn't return to the Howler Clan dormitories that evening; she needed some time
alone before she informed them that their captain could no longer compete. Instead,
she went to the bathhouse to clear her head and wash away the day.

There were only a few other students in the women's bathroom when she arrived, and
they cleared out the moment they saw her. No complaints there.

Hot water shot out from the faucets as Ciena descended the stone steps into one of
the larger baths. She lay back and floated in the water, occasionally squinting her
eyes open just enough to see orange crystal lamps that hung on the ceiling.

She stayed that way for a long time, not wanting to think or reflect-just to
forget. Besides, it was never easy to leave the bathhouse in the winter, knowing
that just outside those walls were heavy winds and snow storms.

"Raider," called a masculine voice.

Her eyes shot open to find Kalak Demeron standing just a few feet away at the edge
of the large bath.

"What are you doing in here?" she demanded, sinking deeper into the water and
crossing her arms over her chest.

"I came to bring you your things." Kalak nodded toward a wooden crate beside him.
"I was waiting outside... but I didn't have all night."

"My things?" Her eyes darted to the wooden crate, then back to Kalak. "What the
hell are you talking about?"

The slightest sign of a smirk showed in his eyes. "Well, I was going to challenge
you for captain... But then I heard you can't accept challenges anymore."

"How?"
"Vash showed up about an hour ago to confiscate your weapons. Said you wouldn't be
needing them for a while."

Ciena swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. She had expected
something like this from Howler Clan's former captain, but not so soon. Removing a
clan member had to be a unanimous decision. He couldn't possibly...

No, of course he could. Howler Clan had already discussed this; they all wanted her
gone.

No other battleground would accept her if she couldn't compete. This would mean
joining the other clanless students in the general dormitory -sharing a bedchamber
and washroom with twenty other people. Ciena had never been clanless. She never
even considered it a possibly.

"Why?" she finally asked. "Is this because I embarrassed you in our duel?"

"Come on Raider," Kalak replied. "I'm not that petty. We gave you a chance as
captain. We followed your orders, and you got us disqualified. Aside from that, we
have no use for a captain who can't fight."

Idiots. If it weren't for her, Wolfe Clan would have destroyed them. Ciena wanted
to tell him as much, but her meeting with the White Council left her drained, and
her current position left her far too vulnerable. And Kalak knew that, the bastard.

When Ciena didn't reply, Kalak turned to leave. "Sorry, Raider. But we both know
you'd do the same thing in my position."

That was true, and there was no point in arguing further. Howler Clan had made
their decision.

They all hated her, just like everyone else in this Aegon-forsaken school.

=================

28: True Clarity

Nahlia sat alone in the infirmary, propped up in a sterile, white-sheeted bed. The
pervasive tang of antiseptic filled the air, and pale crystal shard lamps glowed
too-bright above her, threatening to irritate her already throbbing head.

Her ribs ached as well, despite the heavy painkillers and herbal remedies Marwyn
had given her. Breathing was difficult enough as it was; she shuddered to think of
how painful it could be.

Thankfully, Elias and Relic had been there when she awoke. It helped to see
friendly faces, what with the images of the battleground still so fresh in her
mind. Even as she drifted back from of her blissful unawareness, memories of motion
and pain assaulted her like a relentless flood. The sights, sounds, and smells of
combat brought back every terrible memory she'd tried so hard to repress over the
years.

With so little company here in the infirmary, Nahlia kept herself distracted by
reading several of the books she'd been avoiding. She was halfway through
Communication in the Ethereal when Elias's voice called out to her from outside the
room

"Hey, Nahlia, are you decent in there?"

Nahlia sat up straighter and tightened the drawstrings on her white hospital robe.
"Yeah," she hollered back. "Come in."

Elias pushed the curtain aside and sauntered into the room. He wore his black
leather dueling fatigues, and his blonde hair was slightly disheveled.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," she said with a shrug. "Marwyn wants to run a few more tests today, but I
should be free to go after that."

"What? That long?" Elias

grinned, taking a seat in the chair beside her. "With all the rumors I've heard
about you, I half-expected to see you in the Gorge this morning."

Nahlia started to laugh, then she winced, raising a hand to the cut on her lip.
"You shouldn't believe everything you hear. I may be a fast healer, but I can't fix
things as fast as your sister can break them."

She had meant the comment to sound lighthearted, but Elias's face grew more
serious. "Speaking of Ciena... I spoke with her this morning during combat
training. Sounds like you won't need to worry about her anymore."

"You mean they suspended her from the battlegrounds?"

"More like they banned her," Elias said. "Not only that, but they took away her
weapons so she can't duel anymore."

Nahlia nodded. Being free of Ciena's wrath was certainly a huge weight off her
shoulders. Of course... now that she saw the battlegrounds for what they truly
were, did she even want to fight anyone? Her wounds would heal with time, but the
battlegrounds themselves represented everything she'd come to hate.

"I also spoke with Vash about your tolerance for the poison," Elias went on "There
was no precedent in the rulebooks, so they had to invent a few new rules. From now
on, you'll be required to stay immobile for at least two minutes after you take a
full body strike."

"I suppose that's for my own safety," Nahlia noted.

Elias nodded. "Still... two minutes is nothing. Having you on our side is still
going to give us a huge advantage. Once you recover, of course."

Nahlia leaned back in her bed, mulling over her options.

She didn't want to let everyone down by quitting, but she also couldn't deny the
truth any longer; she simply wasn't meant to be a fighter. More importantly, she
never wanted to hurt someone else the way Ciena hurt her.

Elias must have seen her thoughts reflected on her face. He leaned forward to look
at her. "Hey... you sure you're all right?"
"Yeah-about the battlegrounds..." Nahlia chewed on the unbroken part of her lip. "I
don't think I'm going to fight again."

He frowned. "Wait... what?"

Nahlia turned to look at him, letting him know she was serious.

Elias took a deep breath. "Look... you got a bad first impression yesterday. And I
take full responsibility for what happened to you; I shouldn't have encouraged you
to keep fighting once you were down."

"No, it's all right." Nahlia said, shaking her head. "This isn't about you... or
Ciena."

"Then was is it about? Because it's normal to be a bit shaken after your first
match. That happens to everyone."

"It just felt wrong to me," she explained. "Fighting... hurting people... all of
it."

"I don't understand," Elias said. "I thought you wanted to learn how to fight?"

That much was true, or at least it had been. When Nahlia first came to Whitecliff,
she had been angry and afraid. Afraid of the Templars, of Ciena, even the White
Council. She thought that learning how to fight would make her feel safe again.
Instead, it only made her feel worse than ever, as if she were becoming the very
thing she despised.

"I made a mistake," she finally said. "I'm not a violent person, and I wont let
myself

become one."

"Are you sure that's it? Because this decision seems very sudden to me."

The look in those blue eyes was a little too sympathetic for her liking. Elias
thought he understood her, but he couldn't. Not when he had spent his entire life
studying war and combat.

"I'm not quitting because I'm scared," she said flatly.

"I didn't say that."

"But you thought it; it's written all over your face. You think I'm afraid of
getting hurt again."

Elias shrugged. "Look-even if you are, I'm not judging you. I just want to make
sure you're doing this for the right reasons. You have potential."

Nahlia grimaced. "The potential to hurt people, you mean."

"The potential to protect people from the Templars," Elias corrected. "That's why
we're training here."

"I do want to protect people," Nahlia said. "But I'd rather do it without hurting
someone else."

Elias pursed his lips but said nothing. It was obvious he disagreed with her, he
was just uncomfortable arguing with a girl who had a black eye.
"Just say it." Nahlia crossed her arms. "You think I'm wrong. You think that
violence is the only way we'll ever be free from the Templars."

"Well, It's not like we're the ones instigating these fights," he countered. " You
of all people should know that. The Templars came to your home and tried to murder
you. And if I recall correctly, my mother saved you-with violence, I might add."

"And I was grateful for that," Nahlia said. "But she still killed three people to
save me. Surely there must have been a better way."

Elias shrugged.

"Perhaps she could have spared them. But if she did, what's to stop those Templars
from killing more Aeons?"

"And isn't that why the Templars hunt us in the first place?" Nahlia retorted.
"Because of what we 'might' do to them someday?"

Elias seemed to consider that for a moment, but he was spared the need to reply
when the bells rang in the tower outside.

"I have another class to get to," he said, rising from his chair. "But I still hope
you reconsider. We could really use your help."

***

Nahlia remained bedridden for the rest of the day. However, despite everything, she
didn't give up on herself. While she may have lost her will to fight, she still had
her mysterious healing ability-an ability she still knew so little about. Nahlia
wanted to learn more, but first she needed Marwyn's help.

So she took advantage of her free schedule and began practicing meditation. It was
difficult at first-every thought and emotion in her head ran wild. Guilt. Regret.
Insecurity. Even when she quieted those thoughts, the sounds of the infirmary grew
louder by comparison. Worst of all, her wounds seemed to scream at her, hurting
even more than before. Her broken ribs made it difficult to achieve a steady rhythm
of breath, and the scabs on face constantly demanded to be itched.

At first she tried to ignore these interruptions, but doing so only ground her mind
further in the physical world. Instead, she tried acknowledging the sensations one
by one, holding each one in her mind, then letting it go. She did the same with her
thoughts and emotions.

Nahlia

continued this practice over the next few days. At this point she had been released
from the infirmary, but was still excused from all physical activities. This gave
her an abundance of free time in the early mornings while everyone else ran the
Gorge.

Every day like clockwork, she went down to the hot springs below the Archives. It
was the one place in Whitecliff where she was able to concentrate free of any
distractions. She sat cross-legged on the stone floor of the cave, closing her eyes
and letting the soft rhythm of the water put her mind at ease. Eventually, she was
able to synchronize her thoughts, her breathing and her heartbeat into one perfect
symphony.
Her thoughts moved in a complex, chaotic dance throughout the ether of her mind.
They flowed this way and that, never falling into one predictable pattern.

The experience was almost hypnotic, drowning out the pain of her physical body.
Sometimes hours passed and felt like mere minutes. It was like being asleep while
also being more awake than ever.

Over time, Nahlia began to sense a greater underlying pattern to the way her
thoughts moved. They only seemed chaotic because their movements were infinitely
complex. But beneath it all was an underlying pattern-a flowing current.

After three days of constant practice, she achieved a state of true clarity and
calm. Every thought, sensation and emotion passed by like snowflakes in the wind.
Nahlia herself was a torch, burning bright in the center of that blizzard-aware of
even the subtlest changes-bending to the force of the wind, but never extinguishing
or following it completely.

She followed the current of thought deeper into the epicenter of her mind,
surrendering herself to its pull. The deeper she fell, the more intangible her body
became, as if it were merely a vessel to be left behind. Of course her body tried
to resist, but Nahlia calmed herself, using similar techniques to the one she had
used to force out the Yuchani poison.

The physical world faded with each deep breath she took. A small part of her was
terrified at the prospect of leaving. However, the fear was just one more emotion
caught up in the vast current. She acknowledged it, then let it fade.

Nahlia took one final breath, passing through the gate where the current ended. She
opened her eyes to find herself standing in the Ethereal.

=================

29: Playing with Fire

THREE YEARS AGO

Thane made his weary way through Dragonshard's main atrium. Palm trees thrashed in
the wind on either side of him. Up above, the palace's bronze spires glowed like
flakes of fire in the evening sun, proclaiming the power of Clan Spectre for all to
see.

Both his mind and body were drained from another long day of Ethermancy training
with Master Cordath. Thane and Ashara had both inherited their father's affinity
for fire and had practiced every day since they were old enough to meditate. By
now, commanding a storm of flames in the Ethereal came as naturally to him as
breathing, and he could hold his own against any of his instructors. Sometimes even
his father.

Unfortunately, they didn't train in the Ethereal today. They trained in the
physical world, where his accomplishments were less than extraordinary. Instead of
bonfires, Thane moved candles. Master Cordath told him the struggle was strictly
mental, for all the good that did.
He passed under a tall archway into Dragonshard's great hall, then up a winding
spiral staircase into the palace's lower apartments. Servants bowed as he passed,
and soldiers and guards saluted him. Thane was on his way to his own bedchamber
when he heard the the familiar melody of harp strings echoing throughout the
corridor, paired with a voice like honey on warm bread.

Thane followed the sound to the end of the hallway, pushing open the door to the
handmaidens' quarters. The room was painted by candlelight and the last rays of the
evening sun as it sank into the sea. Two of the handmaidens rose formally as

he entered, but Thane only had eyes for one of them.

Kira sat playing her harp on the bed next to the open balcony. She wore a long,
elegant dress. Ocean blue, just a shade lighter than her eyes. The arms and upper-
back were left bare in the current fashion, but she hid her scars beneath a thin
shawl. A pair of bracelets sparkled on her wrists as she played, her fingers
dancing and weaving through the strings with expert precision.

Aegon, but she's beautiful.

Only four years in Dragonshard, and she had already come so far. When they first
freed Kira from that slaver in Kalamir, she only had an elementary understanding of
the arts. Now she spent her days composing songs and poetry with the other women of
the court. She had become one of them, but she was still the same girl he'd met all
those years ago. The way she played-even the way she spoke-was filled with raw
strength and passion. Thane found it intoxicating.

As the last notes faded in the air, Kira lowered her hands and turned to regard
him. "So?" she asked. "What do you think?"

"It's perfect," Thane said earnestly. "I can't say I've ever heard this song
before."

"I'd certainly hope not," she said, smiling. "It's still a work in progress, after
all."

"You wrote this, then?"

Kira nodded, and Thane caught a bit of well-hidden shyness in her expression. "It's
inspired by a story from Aeonica."

"I thought some of the names sounded familiar," Thane said, making his way over to
her side of the bedchamber. Before he sat down, he turned to the other two
handmaidens who were now making an effort to appear

disinterested. "Could you two excuse us for a moment?"

They bowed and left at once, as if they'd already been expecting his request.

Once they were alone, Kira made a show of looking surprised. "Thane Spectre! I'm a
lady of the court now. Imagine, a boy and a girl... alone... unchaperoned in her
bedchamber. We're going to have quite the scandal on our hands."

Thane sat beside her on the bed. It was quite luxurious, a sign that Ashara's
handmaidens were also her closest friends. "I'd hardly call it a scandal,
considering we're old childhood friends. We'd be quite a boring couple, really-more
cliche than scandalous."

"Oh but of course," she replied. "The handsome, Aeon prince of Dragonshard and his
sister's handmaiden, the exotic beauty of the Southern Isles. We may a cliche, but
we're also the stuff of great songs and stories."

Thane grinned, taking that as a sign to move closer.

Kira turned away with a dramatic tossing of her black hair. "But alas, as an Aeon
prince, certain things are expected of you as well. Knowing your father, you'll
probably be sentenced to marry some highborn Aeon women to secure an alliance for
your clan."

"You have been reading far too much Aeon lore." Thane chuckled. "We can't have nice
things like political alliances when we're fighting for our lives. Besides, the
rest of my race is hiding in the North, and we're not exactly on friendly terms."

"Isn't that when alliances are made?" Kira asked. "Not much to gain by marrying a
political ally, is there?"

As much as Thane hated to admit it, she was right. Many of the great Aeon

clans had daughters his own age. Ciena Raider of Raidenwood was rumored to be
available, as were Lord Vash's two daughters. His father would surely see
opportunities there, but there were no guarantees.

"There's always the chance I'll be able to marry who I want," Thane said. He looked
into her ocean eyes to show her he was serious,

Kira flushed slightly. She could engage in casual flirting for hours, but sincerity
always caught her off guard. As if everything between them were merely a game, and
any prospect of something real were too good to be true.

The blush was gone in a heartbeat, replaced with a look of practiced amusement.
"Well... convincing your father to let you marry a human woman is the easy part.
The real challenge will be getting her to fall in love with you."

"Oh?" Thane grinned. "And what makes you so certain this girl is a human?"

"Very funny." Kira shot him a sideways glance. "I don't see you sitting in some
other girl's bedchamber, listening to her songs and speaking fondly of the future."

"Speaking of songs..." Thane turned toward the golden harp leaning in its case
against the wall. "It's been a while since you've played just for me."

"Hmmm..." Kira's eyes danced from the harp, then back to him. "What do you want to
hear?"

"Any of your original pieces," Thane said at once. "They suit you far better than
the classics."

"I suppose I could play one more song." She picked up the harp and pulled it close
to her chest, causing her dress to gather and expose a generous amount of leg.

Kira flexed and spread her calloused fingers to

the strings, and Thane felt a bit of tension leave his body. She played a rolling
gliss from high to low, and the sound was like waves on the ocean shore.

She sang another story from Aeonica. This one was about an Aeon boy who had no
experience with Ethermancy. Despite this, he was able to heal his mother from a
fatal wound: a dagger to the heart.
As she played, Thane felt the pulsing energy of the candles nearby. Their presence
was far more palpable than they had been during his training sessions that day.
Like the warmth of the sun without the glare.

Thane reached out absentmindedly with his thoughts, causing the small flames to
flicker and sway, dancing to the rhythm of Kira's song. As the sun finally sank
below the blue horizon, additional candles sprang to life around the room.

"You've gotten better," Kira remarked as her song came to an end.

"The music helps me relax," Thane replied.

Kira nodded, setting her harp aside. "How do you do it, anyway?"

"What? Ethermancy?"

She nodded again.

"You've never asked me about that before," Thane said, smiling. "Why the sudden
curiosity?"

Kira shrugged. "If I'm going to be writing songs about Aeons, I figured I should at
least extend my research beyond children's stories."

"Fair enough." Thane turned to face her, sitting cross-legged. "To put it simply...
Ethermancy is the use of thought energy to manipulate other forms of energy." He
turned to face one of the candles again. "My thoughts can control that fire the
same way they control my body. I can reach out, and the fire becomes an extension

of my thought.

"Energy can't be created or destroyed..." He made the candle extinguish, then he

opened his palm to reveal a small, solitary flame. "But it can be transferred."

Kira smiled. "As impressive as that is, I could have read about the science aspect
in the library. I want to how it feels to control fire."

"Ah," Thane said, leaning back against the headboard. "Well... that's a bit harder
to describe."

Kira scooted closer. "Try me."

Thane considered it for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Alright, first you need
to be completely focused. If you're distracted, your thoughts are weaker. Even
then, they need to be powerful thoughts."

"And no thoughts are stronger than those woven with passion," Kira mused
paraphrasing an old Antarian poet whose name Thane had long forgotten.

"Right." He smiled at the astuteness of her answer. "That's how your subconscious
mind knows that you're serious."

"So that's it?" Kira frowned. "If all it takes is concentration and emotion, than
how come humans can't do Ethermancy too?"

"There is one more thing," Thane said. He reached over to grab a peach from a
nearby fruit bowl, holding it up between them. "If I drop this, what will happen?"
"It will fall on the bed," Kira said flatly.

"How do you know?"

She smiled. "Because I've dropped enough things to be reasonably sure."

"Exactly," Thane said. "And Ethermancy is the same way. Most people can't do it
unless they've already done it. You need to have absolute faith that it will work.
If you doubt yourself-even

a little bit-your mind will latch onto that doubt as sure as if it were a command.

"So... you have to do it before you can do it?" Kira arched an eyebrow. "Sounds
like a paradox to me."

"It is... until we take the Ethereal into consideration. You see, the laws of
physics are more lenient in our dreams. And there's unlimited energy all around us.
This is why Aeons practice in the Ethereal. We practice until it feels natural;
only then are we able extend those abilities into the physical world."

"Wow... I never knew it was that much work," Kira admitted. "All of the stories
I've read talk about Aeons preforming Ethermancy on accident."

"Most of those are exaggerations," Thane said. "But there is some truth to them as
well. Ethermancy occurs in the subconscious part of the brain. Remember the boy in
your song who healed his mother? He didn't have to understand how it worked, he
just had to believe that it would. His subconscious mind took care of the rest."

Kira nodded thoughtfully. "I guess there's only so much you can learn in a
classroom then."

"Right," Thane agreed. "Candles are easy for me now, but something like a bonfire
would be far more difficult to command."

"You mean it would take a stronger emotion?"

He nodded.

Kira leaned in closer, her face was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath
now. "And what would it take for you to control a fire that large, Thane Spectre?"

He slipped his hands under her shawl and ran them down her back. It wasn't smooth
like one might expect; it was rough and scarred and imperfect. But it was apart of
her... one of the many things that made her so strong. Still, he felt a tinge of
anger at the thought of someone hurting her again, and that was his answer.

Thane whispered, "If anyone ever tried to hurt you again, I would call a fire
greater than even Kalazhan himself has ever managed. I wouldn't stop until I knew
you were safe."

Kira smiled, and Thane pulled her closer, pressing his lips down on hers.

=================

30 - Pt.1: A Story Untold

"Remarkable," The Master Physician said as he examined one of Nahlia's former-
wounds. "And In just four days. Never seen anything like it."

He took a step back as if to take in the full sight of her. The cartilage in her
nose had healed, and the cuts on her cheeks, forehead and lip had vanished. Only
her black eye remained, and even that was faint.

Marwyn pulled out a small book and began scribbling down notes. Somehow, he wrote
even faster than he spoke. "And how are your ribs?" he asked. "Healed as well, I
presume?"

"Yes," Nahlia said at once. "They don't hurt at all anymore."

"Hmmm... Interesting." He braced his chin, pacing around the examination room.
"High tolerance for Yuchani poison-rare but not unheard of. But rapid cellular
regeneration at this level? No... should be impossible for normal Aeon body. Don't
understand."

"My body didn't heal by itself, Master." Nahlia stood up from the examination table
to interrupt his frantic pacing. "I healed myself through meditation."

"Yes..." Marwyn nodded thoughtfully. "Ethermancy. Only explanation. Should have

seen it before with crossbow wound."

Ethermancy, Nahlia thought. The ancient power that Aeons once wielded to rule over
humanity. A part of her had already suspected this, but the idea also seemed
childish. It didn't help that everyone else in this Academy was so skeptical.

"How long?" Marwyn asked her.

"I've been doing it for as long as I can remember," Nahlia said. "I just assumed
all Aeons healed faster than humans."

"Hmm. Fair assumption with no other Aeons as

a reference point."

Nahlia nodded. "It wasn't until I came to Whitecliff that I realized I was
different."

"Fascinating," Marwyn said. "Crossed paths were other Ethermancers on occasion.

Never a healer."

"What?" Nahlia couldn't hide her incredulity. "I'm the only one you've met?"

He nodded. "Ethermancy is rare enough. Healing even more so, and said to be very
difficult. Studied it myself years ago. Had no success outside Ethereal."

And I've been doing it subconsciously this whole time, Nahlia thought. "Does this
mean you'll help me train?"

"That depends," Marwyn said. "Have you done as I asked?"

"I meditated into the Ethereal."

He nodded again. "And the memory of your mother?"

"I..." Nahlia paused. "I thought the purpose of that was to prove that I'm worth
your time? Shouldn't it be enough that I already preformed healing Ethermancy?"

"No. Not about proving worth. Told you before: knowledge of Ethereal has potential
for peace and understanding, but also for death and destruction. Must first make
peace with your enemies."

"I have forgiven my enemies," Nahlia said. "I never want to hurt anyone else the
way Ciena hurt me. I even quit Wolfe Clan. That should prove that I'm not violent."

"Yes," he said. "Not violent, but still afraid. Still repressing your past. Still
letting it control you."

Nahlia frowned. "Even if that's true, it won't stop me from becoming a good
Ethermancer."

Marwyn waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing to do with competence. Many powerful

Ethermancers were afraid. Only made them more dangerous.

More destructive. Remember Kalazhan?"

"Of course, he was the Archaeon of courage and passion."

"Yes," Marwyn said. "Also the first Ethermancer to wield fire. As strong and brave
as any Aeon. But remember what happened when a group of humans captured his wife?"

Nahlia thought for a moment, letting her mind wander back to the days when she used
to read Aeonica in the Northshire library. "Kalazhan went to their camp and killed
them all. And in all of the chaos and confusion, he ending up killing his wife on
accident."

Marwyn nodded gravely. "You see, Kalazhan may have had good intentions, but he let
his emotions control him that day. His passion gave him his power. But In the end
it destroyed everything he fought for."

"And you think that could happen to me?"

"Could happen to anyone." Marwyn shrugged. "What would you do to save your father?"

Nahlia looked away, feeling a tinge of guilt. While she hadn't directly harmed
anyone to free her father, she had given Thane valuable information regarding
Whitecliff. Information that could lead to the deaths of hundreds should it fall
into the hands of the Templars.

"Either way," Marwyn said. "Would be irresponsible of me to train you without

proper precautions."

"Irresponsible?" Nahlia folded her arms. "I've already been doing Ethermancy this
whole time, Master. The way I see it, it would be just as irresponsible of you to
let me go on without a teacher."

"Ah. Clever." Marwyn gave her a rare smile. "But on the contrary, consider this
your first lesson."

Nahlia sighed, lowering her eyes

again. She had hoped to use her healing abilities to impress the Master Physician,
but he turned out to be even more stubborn than she was.
Marwyn must have seen her thoughts reflected on her face because his voice became
uncharacteristically soft. "Don't worry. I'll help you."

With that, he led Nahlia out of the examination room into his laboratory. Just as
he had before, Marwyn took out the Ethereal Shards and placed them on the smooth
wooden table between them.

Nahlia shifted uncomfortably in the plush chair. "I've meditated into the Ethereal
a few times now," she began. "But I still don't know how to focus on a single
memory."

"Not difficult," Marwyn said. "Close your eyes and focus on the scene. Subconscious
mind will do the rest."

She nodded, sinking back into the chair and closing her eyes.

"Now describe your surroundings," Marwyn said. "Start with a happier memory. Much
easier."

Nahlia took a deep breath. "Our house was high in the mountains, east of
Raidenwood, next to a village called Tremere. We could see the whole world from up
there. Rivers... farms... forests."

"Good, Now imagine yourself there now. Concentrate on the senses. Sights. Sounds.
Feelings. Clear your mind of everything else."

Nahlia continued her steady breathing, using the techniques she had cultivated in
the days before.. She cast aside the sensations of the room, imaging the cool grass
beneath her feet and the warmth of the evening sun on her face.

She followed the familiar current of thoughts deeper into her mind, simultaneously
holding the memory of her

old home. She felt Marwyn's presence there as well. Once again, the Ethereal Shards
had bonded their minds.

When Nahlia opened her eyes, everything in the Ethereal was just as she described
it. She and Marwyn stood on the hill that once belonged to her parents. They
arrived just as the sun was setting over the vast landscape. The unrestricted view
was breathtaking.

To the west she saw miles of forests and farms, with one winding river cutting a
path between them. The northern mountains were a distant wall, and to the south she
saw smoke rising into the sky and the low gray buildings of Tremere.

Her house stood behind her, tall and majestic with it's willow wood walls and blue
shingled rooftop. Growing up, Nahlia never understood why they lived so secluded
out here in the mountains. Back then, she didn't know about Aeons or Templars;
people were just people.

Of course she knew the truth now that she was older. Her father was a Templar
officer and her mother was the heir to Clan Trevelyan. They left their old lives
for each other, and there was no place left for them in either world.

An image of a younger Nahlia ran by. Only seven years old, she wore a light blue
sundress and had flowers in her auburn hair. Behind her was her mother, Lyanna,
working in the garden. Nahlia hadn't seen her face in over ten years, but it was
the most beautiful sight she could have imagined.
People often spoke of beauty in terms of things pleasing to the senses. A
flower. ... a sunset... music. But this was something else entirely.

Could anything be more beautiful than the face of a loved one who was gone forever?
More beautiful than the feeling of being safe and loved, innocent of true fear,
loss or pain?

A part of her wanted to stay in this dream forever. But no... if she stayed here,
then night wound come soon. And then...

Her thoughts grew chaotic as they wandered into the darker reaches of her memory.
The Ethereal itself grew darker and less vivid, as if to reflect her mental state.
Nahlia stiffened, and her breathing became more sporadic. She almost thought the
dream was going to end until Marwyn put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"It's all right," he told her. "The past can't hurt you."

"I know that," she said. "But I still can't do this."

"You may not want to," Marwyn told her. "But this will strengthen you. You will
help people in ways you never could before. Make a difference in the world."

Nahlia nodded, closing her eyes and drawing in a shaky breath. She imagined using
her healing abilities to help others instead of just herself, like the stories from
Aeonica when Trelu saved her loved ones them from life threatening wounds.

When she opened her eyes again, night had fallen. A layer of mist covered the
grounds around the mountainside, and an orange haze drew closer.

The Templars had come.

=================

30 - Pt.2: A Story Untold

They emerged from the forest with lit torches. At least a dozen Templar solders,
officers and crossbowmen. The formation moved with a slow determination, their
steel armor gleaming ominously in the moonlight.

Nahlia felt her throat contract at the sight of Saul Mason leading the party.
Marwyn was right; she was afraid. Even if this was only a dream, the fear was more
tangible than ever.

"Can they see us?" she asked, stepping closer to the Master Physician.

"Only if you let them," he said. "Don't worry. Here to observe. Not interact."

The Templars surrounded the house in near-silence. Even the clanking of their armor
was lost over the sounds of the forest. The wind ruffling the trees and the
undergrowth. The choir of crickets singing to the crescent moon as if already in
mourning.

Saul Mason gave his commands through silent hand gestures. In one series of
consecutive movements, his men barred the front door and set the house aflame.

Nahlia grimaced at their cowardice. "They outnumbered my parents ten to one... but
they still refused to face them in a fight. They must have heard of my father's
fighting prowess."

Marwyn nodded in agreement, watching the flames rise, dancing wildly in the
mountain wind.

"I remember waking up in my bed... breathing smoke." Nahlia's voice sounded calm,
although her legs were trembling now. The memories returned to her far more vividly
than she expected. "My mother pulled me out of bed, and my father broke the glass
on my window..."

As if in corroboration with her words, a window shattered before them. Her father
leaped out first, hatchet

in hand.

Two of the Templars moved to stop him, but he was too quick. Aaron Cole swung his
hatchet in short, violent arches, taking each man in the neck where his armor was
weakest. Molten-red blood sprayed from their gaping wounds.

"That was the first time I'd ever seen him fight," Nahlia continued." He told me he
was a war veteran-it wasn't until later that I found out he was once a Templar
officer..."

She glanced back at the massacre, watching the other soldiers move in to block
their desperate escape. Her father had exchanged his hatchet for one of the fallen
swords now. He spun, slashed and parried, fighting back several foes at once.

Before that day, Nahlia had always imagined wars to be heroic and glorious, like
the stories in Aeonica. But no... the blood covered her father's face like a coat
of red paint, and when his victims died, their squeals sounded more like dogs than
men.

"My father told my mother to run, so she did..."

The image of Lyanna grabbed the young Nahlia, bolting down the hill through the
garden, jumping over rocks and dodging trees. Nahlia remembered how everything
became a blur as the burning house receded into the darkness, the crossbow bolts
soaring through the orange mist all around them.

Lyanna barely made it fifty yards before a bolt took her in the leg. She collapsed
on the side of the slope, sending half-conscious daughter rolling down the hill in
front of her.

"....But she wasn't fast enough." Nahlia crossed her arms, feeling a sudden chill
in the air. Her eyes burned with the first signs of tears and It took all

of her strength to keep from cringing away or closing her eyes.

The Knight Commander drew his sword, stepping up behind Lyanna as she crawled
desperately through the grass. The young Nahlia could only watch her mother
struggle, overwhelmed by the fire and the fighting.

"RUN!" Lyanna told her. Her last words echoed throughout the mountainside just
before Saul Mason plunged the sword into her back, its red tip emerging from the
left side of her chest.

He went for Nahlia next, but her father broke off from his fight to save her. He
picked up his hatchet again, sending it spinning through the air until it struck
Saul Mason in the shoulder.

This time, her father didn't turn to fight the other Templars. He grabbed his
daughter with his free hand and ran, bolting down the mountainside, vanishing into
the dark forest below.

The remaining Templars chased after him, swords and crossbows drawn. Even Saul
Mason regained his footing. Their shouts gradually faded, echoing in the distance
for several moments.

And then there was nothing.

The sounds of battle were gone, even the wind had died down. Before long, Nahlia
heard nothing but the throbbing of her own heartbeat.

"My father and I escaped," she finally said to Marwyn. "But my mother..."

Slowly, Nahlia turned around to see Lyanna's body, cold and lifeless in the
bloodstained grass. The Templars never even came back for her... never giving her a
proper burial or burning.

Tears fell from her chin and the wind caught them. Nahlia knelt down in the grass
beside her mother, closing her blue-green eyes. "Is

this... really how she looked?"

Marwyn shook his head. "You were gone by now. No way of knowing. Imagination fills
in what memories cannot."

Nahlia nodded, and they sat in silence for a long time after that. Whether it was
minutes or hours, she could say. Such was the nature of time in the Ethereal.

Finally, she took a deep breath, clearing her sinuses. "I don't feel like I
achieved anything tonight. If anything... I feel worse than before."

"No," Marwyn said. "On the contrary, you did well. Better than most."

She turned to regard him. "You told me I would feel stronger."

"Different kinds of strength," Marwyn explained, though his voice was more gentle
than usual. "Some Ethermancers repress their memories, picking up weapons and
changing the past. Make themselves feel stronger."

Marwyn gestured to a stray sword lying in the grass. "Others run. Both are
motivated by fear. You stood here calm and resolute. Gave violence no power over
you."

Nahlia nodded again. After everything she had seen of war-both from the Templars
and her fellow Aeons-this made sense. The Templars hunted her kind because they
feared enslavement, and the legends of Ethermancy. The Aeons fought back because
they feared being purged. As the violence continued, it only brought more
aggression... more fear.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" she asked.

"You've already taken the first step," he replied. "You stood here calm and
resolute. Gave violence no power over you."

She frowned. "So I'm supposed to do nothing then?"

"Not nothing," he said. "You have the gift of healing. Opportunity to help people.
Bring hope instead of fear. Peace instead of aggression. Possibly change the course
of this entire war."

Nahlia took one last look at her mother, a part of her wishing she had learned
Ethermancy sooner in life. Perhaps if she had, she could have saved her. And then
everything would've been different. But no... that was in the past now. She had to
move forward, worrying about her father, and the Aeons of Whitecliff.

Nahlia mouthed a silent goodbye, and let her consciousness return to the physical
world.

=================

31: The Heirloom

The Wolfe Clan dormitories were empty when she returned. This wasn't a surprise,
considering their match against Bear Clan was only a few days away. Nahlia still
felt a tinge of guilt for leaving her clan with only four members. Unfortunately,
pretend battlegrounds were the least of her worries now.

Her footsteps echoed in the stone common room as she paced back and forth,
contemplating her predicament. The memory of her mother's gruesome death still hung
fresh in her mind, putting current events into perspective in ways she never could
have imagined.

The Templar Order caused death and destruction wherever they went, tracking Aeons
with bribery, deception and extortion. They had used these tactics on the townsfolk
of Northshire, and had likely used similar bribes and threats in the local village
of Tremere the night they burned her home and killed her mother.

Worst of all, they were doing the same thing to Nahlia and Thane-keeping the people
they loved hostage in order to find Whitecliff. She couldn't deny the truth any
longer. If this went on, they would attack the academy. They would kill every man,
women, and child here, and that blood would be on her hands.

And yet... her father was still in Kyroth. The only family she had left in this
world. How could she choose between his life and the lives of every Aeon in
Whitecliff? What would Thane do if she went back on their deal?

She didn't want to find out, but she also couldn't put this off any longer. The two
of them needed to talk.

Nahlia knelt down on the stone floor of her bedchamber and opened

the wooden trunk that held her belongings. She rummaged through several stacks of
folded clothes and battle uniforms until she found her mother's necklace at the
bottom. She pulled it out, and the blue sapphire gleamed in the room's red crystal
lamplight.

Could this be the Ethereal Shard I've been looking for? While the idea still seemed
ridiculous, it was also the only logical explanation. Marwyn had removed the
necklace four days ago while he tended her wounds, and she hadn't heard from Thane
since then. It was also her only possession to survive the journey from Northshire
to Whitecliff.

The fact that it was a family heirloom only solidified her theory. Her ancestor,
Sara Trevelyan, had also been contacted and killed by a stranger inside the
Ethereal. For all Nahlia knew, she was wearing this same necklace when it happened.

Of course, this was all speculation. She wouldn't know for sure until she tested
the theory.

So Nahlia lay back in her bed, clutching the blue stone in her already-frigid
fingers. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind, focusing on her objective. When
she exhaled, she felt a presence there-another Aeon's consciousness floating just
beyond the surface of her own mind.

It's Thane, she realized. It has to be.

The sensation was subtle, and she may have missed it if she hadn't already
experienced it with Marwyn. Nahlia latched into him as her mind passed from the
physical world into the Ethereal.

She opened her eyes, taking in the sight of a dark forest lit by the last few rays
of twilight. A layer of violet mist

covered the landscape, swirling around the trees and the undergrowth.

Several heartbeats passed, then Thane materialized in front of her out of thin air.

Did I just... summon him here? That had been her goal of course, but it came as a
surprise nonetheless.

"Meditating into the Ethereal," Thane said, turning to face her. "You've gotten
good."

"I've been practicing," Nahlia said, inclining her head slightly.

He nodded. I'm just glad you're alright. When I couldn't contact you, I feared the
worst."

"I know," she replied. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

There were so many things she wanted to ask Thane. How he found an Ethereal Shard
that matched hers. How he knew it would work. Why he kept it a secret from her in
the first place. But no... the more she let him talk, the more chances he would
have to change her mind. Nahlia took a deep breath and continued. "I just came here
to tell you that I can't do this anymore."

There was a short pause. "Can't do what?"

"All of this," she said. "Lying to the Aeons of Whiteclif, spying on them, feeding
you information."

He sighed, raking a hand through his black hair. "Look, Nahlia, whatever's going
on, we can work through it. I just made a deal with the Templar commander, if we
just-"

"No," Nahlia shook her head, her auburn hair swinging back and forth in the night
wind. "I'm not making anymore deals with the Templars."
"And what about our deal?" Thane retorted. "What about your father?"

"I never should have agreed to that," she said. "I was scared... and on the

run. I thought I was doing the right thing... but... I can't. I can't trade his
freedom for the lives of everyone in Whitecliff."

"That doesn't have to happen, Nahlia. Even if the Templars find the academy-which
they havrn't- I'll have plenty of time to warn you first. You won't be trading
anything."

She folded her arms. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I have everything under control. They can't do anything without my

knowledge."

"So," she replied. "Can you look me in the eye and say for certain that no one will
die as a result of what we're doing?"

Thane hesitated.

"That's what I thought," Nahlia said. "I won't take that chance."

"Then what are you going to do?" he asked. "Just keep attending your lessons,
pretending everything's fine?"

"No," she said. "I'm going to do what I should have done the moment I arrived here.
I'm going to tell the Headmaster everything."

She expected Thane to protest further, to tell her she was making a huge mistake,
and that Alveron would label her a traitor and lock her in a cell. But Thane said
none of these things, he simply closed his mouth and nodded.

"That's it?" Nahlia eyed him suspiciously. "You're not going to try and stop me?"

"How?" Thane said with a shrug. "Seems to me that you've already made up your
mind."

Nahlia relaxed slightly. A small part of her had expected Thane to try and keep her
here in the Ethereal, the way Emperor Palatine had trapped Sara Trevelyan. But
perhaps that was just a story after all. Perhaps he couldn't stop her.

She turned to look at

him one last time. "I'm sorry for going back on our deal... but I'm trying to the
right thing. I hope you do the same. My father could still use your help."

When Thane remained silent, Nahlia turned to leave.

***

Whitecliff's main hall was practically deserted that evening, with most of the
students, staff and masters already in their respective sleeping quarters. As
Nahlia climbed the spiral staircase into the Council Tower, she realized she was
even more nervous now than she'd been the first time she climbed these stairs.

The double doors of Alveron's were office open, so she knocked on the stone
archway.
"Nahlia Cole?" Aversion said, looking up his ledgers. "What are you doing here so
late?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry to bother you Headmaster, but do you have a
minute?"

"Of course," he gestured to one of the seats opposite him. "Please, sit down."

Nahlia made her way across the room, lowering herself awkwardly into one of the
plush seats.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Not exactly. There's something I need to tell you."

"Alright." Alveron exhaled slightly, sitting back in his chair. "I'm listening."

"The first day I arrived here in Whitecliff, you and the other masters interrogated
me and asked if I had been in contact with any other Aeons...."

"Yes." He nodded. "I remember."

"Well..." Nahlia stared down at her hands, despite her best efforts. "I wasn't
completely honest. Someone contacted me in the Ethereal the same night the Templars
came for me. His name was Thane Spectre. He promised to break my father out of
Kyroth in exchange for information on this academy."

"Just as we feared," Alveron murmured, more to himself than to her. "And what have
you told him?"

"I didn't give tell him anything about the location," Nahlia said quickly. "Only
some basic information. The number of students here, the names of the White Council
members..."

Alveron nodded again. His face looked especially grim in the lamplight.

"But I'm not working with him anymore," Nahlia said to fill the silence "And I want
to do whatever I can to keep this academy safe."

The Headmaster remained silent for another moment. "And this other Aeon-this 'Thane
Spectre'-how did you communicate with him this whole time?"

"With this." Nahlia pulled out her necklace from a pocket inside her cloak, setting
it down on the wooden desk between them. "I think it's an Ethereal Shard."

"I see..." Alveron leaned closer, reaching out his hand to examine it. As soon as
his fingers came in contact with the necklace, his body jolted backward, collapsing
on the floor with a heavy thud.

"Headmaster!" Nahlia jumped up and ran over to find him lying unconscious at the
foot of his desk.

Oh no. Thane... What did you do?

=================
32: Assassin

Thane Spectre sat cross-legged on the forest floor, shrouded by mist and darkness.
He focused hard, using every ounce of his willpower to summon this strange new
presence into the Ethereal. It had been a major gamble to hope Nahlia would give
him the necklace, but it seemed to have paid off perfectly.

All he had to do now was defeat a legendary Ethermancer.

A tall man in worn gray robes materialized in the forest clearing nearby; the same
place Nahlia had summoned Thane less than half an hour ago. He was younger than
Thane expected, no more like fifty. Clean-shaven, with a strong jawline, his
posture was strong and commanding, despite being forced here against his will.

As the robed figure began searching for his assailant, Thane rose and stepped into
the clearing

"Headmaster Alveron?" he called out in the darkness.

"Thane Spectre, I presume." The man looked over his shoulder to regard him. "Are
you here to interrogate me?"

"No," Thane said flatly. Even now, he felt the Headmaster's mind resisting his
hold-trying to wake up from the dream. But Thane wouldn't let him; he pulled back
with all his might, determined to see this through.

"No..." Alveron echoed, realization dawning on him. "You're here to kill me. Nahlia
Cole wasn't a spy, she was an assassin. You're both assassins."

"Nahlia has nothing to do with this," Thane said. "She gave me your name. Nothing
more."

"But... if you're going to kill me anyway, then what difference does it make?"

Alveron stopped resisting, and Thane felt his body tense as the Headmaster
countered with a powerful hold of his own. Now his

mind was trapped here, just as Alveron's was.

If he lost this fight, he would never wake up.

Alveron cast aside his gray master's robes, letting them fall to the forest floor.
He wore a simple gray tunic and trousers beneath, with a short sword at his belt.

Thane removed his own cloak, suppressing a shiver. The night wind was cold, cutting
down to the very marrow of his bones.

He conjured an inner-fire to warm himself, drawing upon the infinite energy of the
Ethereal. It filled his muscles with a newfound strength, allowing Thane to stand
with far more confidence than he felt. He had fought in hundreds of duels with his
father and his instructors, but never one to the death.

Alveron raised his hands in a ceremonious manner, and his palms blossomed with
waving flames, like a pair of torches against the night.

"You made a mistake bringing me here, boy," Alveron said. Then he snapped his
wrists forward, launching the fire toward Thane in a fury of projectiles.

Thane reacted immediately, redirecting the flames with a quick wave of his arm,
sending them scattering into nearby trees.

Alveron continued his assault with another succession of quick blasts. His arms
flared as he summoned each flame from thin air, circling Thane in the forest
clearing, attacking him from several different angles at once.

Thane had no choice but to remain on the defensive. He parted and deflected each of
his opponents attacks, but they were too fast to catch or push back.

The flames spread throughout the forest within a matter of seconds, turning the
night mists into

a blinding orange haze. Alveron used these fires to fuel his attacks. By now they
were more powerful than boulders flung from trebuchets.

Thane's own concentration waned, and he instinctively jumped to the side, just
barely ducking into a shallow trench for cover. The tree behind him exploded with
an unnatural crack, shattering into a thousand splinters of wood.

Thane took off in a mad dash, ducking and dodging Alveron's shots as they smacked
into the surrounding foliage. Explosions of bark and wood erupted in every
direction, and some of the smaller trees snapped like twigs before the might of
Alveron's power.

He finally stopped to catch his breath behind a stone pillar. If he kept running
like this, he would die for sure. He wasn't afraid of dying, but he was of afraid
of what would happen to Dragonshard if he failed. And more importantly, what would
happen to Kira if he wasn't there to protect her.

Enough running, Thane told himself This is what you've trained for. You can take
him.

In the distance, Alvedon continued his bombardment, almost in desperation to finish

Thane quickly.

Excessive violence is the act of a desperate man. That was what Thane's father had
told him during his first sparing lesson. Passion was important, but too much of it
could be an Ethermancer's undoing.

But a calm mind... that was a mind that was truly dangerous. Tranquility, and a
touch of emotion. Those were the marks of a true Ethermancer.

Thane stood up among the burning forest, his loose black clothing billowing with
the falling ash and dust. With a wave of his hands, he parted a massive ground fire
before him and revealed himself to the other Aeon once again.

"This is your last chance," Alveron told him, drawing his sword. "Go back to where
you came from. Tell your masters that you failed, and I'll spare you."

"I can't do that," Thane shook his head, sweat falling from his brow. "I'm sorry."

Alveron's face remained expressionless as he prepared his final assault.

Thane didn't run, nor did he strike back. He only closed his eyes and concentrated.
He knew this would require absolute faith. If his mind harbored even the slightest
doubt, the fires wouldn't obey him.

As Alveron sent the fire closing in from every direction, Thane forced the storm to
swirl around him, forming a protective sphere of twisting orange flames.
The fear of dying was gone now. Even the intensity of the flames seemed distant and
unthreatening. Thane only heard his breathing and is heartbeat-everything else was
merely an extension of that.

He continued to concentrate, and the very air of the forest became alive with
pyreflyes. The night became brighter than day as the fire grew-a thousand soldiers
in one army, all under his command.

Finally, Thane opened his eyes, letting the sphere of flame strike out toward his
opponent. Fast and deadly, until all that remained was fire and blood.

=================

33: Betrayal

"Headmaster!" Nahlia cried out, shaking him again. "Alveron!"

Despite her best efforts, Alveron's body remained paralyzed on the stone floor of
his office. His breathing was rapid and irregular, and his face glistened with
sweat. Nahlia was about to go get help when the Headmaster's body gave another
violent twitch, letting out a long breath of air.

Slowly, she reached out to check for a pulse, but she already knew the truth.

He was dead.

Oh Aegon... Nahlia thought, feeling sick. She curled up with her legs against her
chest, trying in vain to keep herself from shaking.

Thane did this, she realized. He murdered Alveron... and he made me his accomplice.
All that talk of peace and preventing wars-It was all a ploy to weaken Whitecliff
from the inside. Did he even plan on freeing her father, or was that a lie too?

No, she chided herself. You can't worry about that now. Get it together, Nahlia.

She had to go to Marwyn and explain what happened before things got even worse.
Maybe if she hurried, she could-

The double doors to Alveron's office swung open on their creaking hinges. Nahlia
turned immediately, growing tense.

A thin, female silhouette stood in the doorway, quarterstaff in hand. At first

Nahlia thought it was Ciena Raider, but the girl who stepped into the lamplight was
a hand shorter than CIena, with black hair instead of gold and crimson.

"Relic!" Nahlia exclaimed, breathing a sigh of relief.

The other girl's eyes darted toward Alveron's body, which still lay lifeless on the
floor.

"You..." She paled slightly, turning back to Nahlia. "What did you do to him?"

"What?" she instinctively looked down. "No! No, this isn't what it looks like!"
Relic ignored her. "Is he dead?"

She hesitated, her breath caught in her throat

"Is he dead?" she demanded, raising her quarterstaff.

Nahlia nodded slowly, and her voice came out in a whisper. "Just... let me
explain."

"Don't bother," Relic said, taking another careful step inside. Her face was dark,
with no sign of her usual, carefree self. "I was listening outside the door,
Nahlia. I heard everything."

"You... followed me here?"

Relic nodded. "You know, I wanted to believe my uncle was wrong about you. I really
did."

Of course the implication was clear. Vash had ordered his niece to watch her. It
had probably happened right after her interrogation with the White Council. That
was why Relic had befriended her in the Gorge. That was why they put in her in
Wolfe Clan in the first place.

Nahlia swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. "We were never really
friends, were we?"

Her expression hardened. "Oh no... You don't get to say that to me. You're the one
who betrayed this academy! You're the one who killed our Headmaster!"

That stung, mostly because it was true. Even if she didn't kill Alveron, she had
given Thane the information he needed. It was her own fault for trusting him in the
first place.

"I wanted to believe you were innocent," Relic went on. "In fact, I told my uncle I
thought you were. But I guess twenty years as a Seeker gave him

better instincts when it comes to traitors."

"Please!" Nahlia pleaded. "You have to believe me. I did give someone information,
but I did NOT kill Alveron!"

Relic sighed, shaking her head. "I don't care. It's not for me to decide." She took
a step closer. "Come on, we're going to see my uncle."

Nahlia hesitated, and Relic raised her quarterstaff. "Please don't make this harder
than it has to be. I don't want to hurt you."

Before Relic could come closer, Nahlia knelt down next to Alveron's body and drew
the short-sword from his scabbard. She had been ready to confess her own crimes,
but she wouldn't take the fall for what Thane did. Aegon only knew what would
happen to her If the Council thought she was an assassin as well as a spy.

Relic's grimace was sarcastic. "Put the sword down, Nahlia. We both know you're a
better liar than you are a fighter."

"No." She gripped the sword tighter, trying to hide the fact that her hands were
shaking. "I wont take the fall for something I didn't do!"
"So what then? Are you going to kill me too? You think that will make you look
innocent?"

Nahlia paused. She was fairly certain she could escape if she had to. After all,
she had learned much more about her Ethermantic abilities over the past few days.
But she also remembered what Marwyn told her about aggression, and how it only
stemmed from fear.

"We're two days from the nearest city," Relic continued. "And you don't even know
which way to go. If you run, the Seekers will catch you, and then you'll only look
more guilty than before."

Nahlia

lowered her sword slightly. "If I go with you... what will the Council do to me?"

Relic lowered her own weapon, releasing a breath. "You'll have a trial. The Council
will preform an investigation and listen to what you have to say. They might even
offer you a deal if you help them find your accomplice."

Reluctantly, Nahlia nodded. She let go of the steel sword, sending it falling to
the stone floor between them.

***

Thane's eyes shot open in the dungeons of Kyroth. He was covered in sweat, and the
blankets were tangled around his legs. Ashara lay beside him, still asleep.

He sat up, taking some cold water from the basin and splashing it on his face. It
was the first time he had ever killed someone. The feeling was more underwhelming
than he'd imagined.

Still... there were hints of regret rising to the surface of his mind-a small part
of him wishing he could take it back. But no... he couldn't worry about that now.
He had done what Saul Mason asked. Now it was time to arrange their freedom.

After slipping on his boots and wrapping his cloak around his shoulders, Thane
stepped up to the cell bars and called down the corridor.

"Guards?" His voice echoed in his own chamber. "Guards!" he repeated.

No answer.

Thane sighed. Those lazy bastards did love make him wait whenever they got the
chance. Normally, he put up with it, letting them have their small taste of power.
But not today.

"Edwin and Connor," he began, using their names this time. "I have a message for
the Knight Commander. Unless you'd rather tell him that I'm being held

up by the two of you?"

Eventually he heard a thump outside, and Edwin rounded the corner to face him. "The
Knight Commander isn't here, Spectre."

Thane frowned. "Then where is he?"

"That's... classified," he said. "And we have orders from Lieutenant Gallow to keep
you down here."
This can't be good, Thane thought, gritting his teeth and grasping the iron bars of
the cell.

"Then get Gallow down here," he finally demanded.

Edwin left, leaving Thane alone to his thoughts. Something is very wrong here.

The courtyard above was suspiciously quiet, quieter than it had been in the last
month. Even the air seemed colder, almost as if they stopped burning the brazier
down the hall.

"What's going on?" Ashara said, sitting up in her cot.

Thane shook his head. "I'm not sure yet..."

Lieutenant Gallow came sauntering up to their cell a few minutes later. Half a
dozen armed guards followed him.

"Evening, your majesty," Gallow said. As usual, his breath smelled like ale and
tobacco.

"Where's the Knight Commander?" Thane demanded.

"He took the army north. To do what we came here to do."

"No..." Thane shook his head. "That's impossible. He has no idea where Whitecliff
is."

Gallow smiled. "See, that's where you're wrong, Spectre. One of our scouts found
the Academy over a week ago. He just didn't see fit to tell you."

Of course, Thane thought. That was when Saul Mason stopped asking him for
information. He didn't need it anymore. He only needed Alveron dead.

Thane took a few deep breaths to calm his rising

panic. He had to warn Nahlia that the Templars were coming, but first he had to get
out of here.

"Now," Gallowl said, still smiling. "What's this 'important message' of yours that
couldn't wait until morning?

Thane hesitated.

"Out with it, Spectre. The Knight Commander left me in charge here while he's away.
Now is Alveron dead, or isn't he?"

Reluctantly, he nodded. "Yes... it's taken care of."

"Good," Gallow said, crossing his arms. "See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"Saul and I had a deal," Thane said. "He swore that my sister, Aaron Cole and I
would all go free."

"Yeah," Gallow replied. "I know about your deal. In fact, I have orders to release
you on confirmation of Alveron's death."

"Which is exactly why I called you down here."

"But," Gallow held up a finger "I also have permission to punish your sister if you
act out."

Ashara took a step closer to him, gripping his arm tightly.

Thane narrowed his eyes at his captor. "What the hell are you talking about,
Gallow? I've done exactly as you asked this entire time."

"Wrong again," Gallow said. "See, me and the boys have been talking. Turns out some
of us don't like the way you strut around this island, all high and mighty... All
your secret talks with the Knight Commander... All your threats to us small-folk.
He might have protected you before... but now it's just you and me."

"If you have a problem with me," Thane said. "Then take it up with me. Leave my
sister out of this."

Gallow gestured toward his guards, and they unlocked the cell door. Thane

took on a defensive fighting stance, but the guards were too quick. One of them hit
Thane in the face with a gauntleted hand, sending him flying backward into the
stone wall.

"Thane!" He heard Ashara scream, and he looked up to see Gallow grabbing her by the
hair.

He tried to move, but three of Gallow's men held him back against the wall.

"You bastard," Thane said, struggling to find his voice. "Let her go, or I swear
I'll kill you."

"Yeah, I'm sure you will," Gallow said. He was holding Ashara by the back of her
neck, stroking her black hair. "I've seen your parlor tricks, Spectre. They're half
not as impressive as you think."

Thane gritted his teeth, struggling to break free. He tried to summon a fire, but
there was nothing nearby. Not a single torch or brazier. The Templars must've known
he couldn't do Ethermancy in the physical world without a source of energy. They
had planned this.

Gallow licked his lips, continuing to stroke Ashara's hair. "Might not know it,
Spectre, but I have expensive taste. And I haven't had anything but common whores
and tavern wenches for months now. But an Aeon princess..." he leaned closer,
smelling her neck. "That might be just the thing."

Ashara looked at him, her blue eyes pleading. "Thane... please..."

"He can't help you, Princess," Gallow said. "You Aeons are nothing but words and
empty threats." Then he turned to leave, dragging Ashara out of the cell.

"Have him chained up," he told one of the guards. "I don't need any interruptions."

Finally, Thane managed to get his right arm free, and he sent an elbow crashing
into one of the guard's chests.

The Templar to his left let go of Thane's arm in panic, and Thane rammed him into
the cell bars. He was about to chase down Gallow when the third guard hit him with
his shield, sending him to the ground.
Thane tried to get up again, ignoring his blurry vision and the taste of blood in
his mouth. But then he felt the shield hit him again, and everything faded to
darkness.

=================

34 Pt.1: Confessions

"Spectre," a rough voice echoed. It was faint and distant, like someone from the
physical world shouting into the Ethereal.

"Spectre!" the voice repeated. This time it was followed by a blast of cold water
across his face.

Thane cursed as he opened his eyes, blinking away water. At first, all he saw was a
cold, dark blur. But as his vision cleared, he recognized Nahlia's father standing
beside him.

"Sorry," Cole said. "But I can't let you sleep. You might have a concussion."

Thane groaned as he took in his new situation. His hands hung from a chain,
connected to the cell ceiling. He was barefoot and shirtless, and every part of him
felt either numb or bleeding or frozen. The only warmth came from a trail of blood
trickling down the back of his neck.

"Ashara..." he murmured through chattering teeth. "Where is she?"

"Gallow took her," Cole said, raising a waterskin to Thane's mouth. "Drink"

He forced himself to swallow. "How-how long?"

"About twenty minutes ago."

"Aegon damn it..." Thane tried to pull free from his chains, but of course they
didn't budge.

"Easy now." Cole laid a firm hand on his shoulder. "You're not going anywhere until
I stitch you up."

Thane turned to regard him, and he realized that Cole was already holding a needle
and gut.

"Why do you think the Templars let me in here with you?" Cole asked."I told them
you'd bleed to death if they didn't."

"And they actually went for that?"

He shrugged. "Gallow wanted to teach you a lesson, not start a war between the
Republic and Dragonshard. This is

going to sting."

Thane tried not to wince as more cold liquid ran down the back of his head.
Alcohol, judging by the smell of it.
Cole moved behind him as if to begin stitching him up, then he paused. "I can't do
this with you shivering, Spectre. Bad enough that I'm working in the dark with no
anesthetics."

Thane clenched his teeth. "I'm willing to move somewhere warmer if you are.
Preferably by a fire"

He couldn't see the other man's face, but he didn't seem amused. "What? Did your
Ethermancy run out or something?"

Thane sighed. "Like I said, there isn't any fire around. If there were, Gallow and
his friends would be dead right now."

"Hmmm..." Cole began his stitching again. "Makes sense I guess. But it makes me
wonder how my daughter does it...".

"Your-what?" Thane tried to turn around, but Cole grabbed his head and held it
still. "Nahlia's an Ethermancer too?"

There was a moment of silence, and the needle poked his scalp several times before
Cole finally answered.

"She was only five years old, the first time I saw her do it. We were walking in
the woods-Nahlia and I-when she started running down a hill, chasing after a
squirrel or something. She tripped over a fallen tree, fell and cut her chin on a
rock. It was a deep cut, and she was bleeding everywhere. What's worse, we were at
least ten miles from home with no decent medical supplies..."

The two of them fell silent as a pair of guards strolled by the cell, eyeing them
suspiciously.

Once they were out of earshot, Cole continued. "I've seen people get injured in
battle before, but it's

worse when it's your own daughter. I wrapped her chin up with a piece of my shirt
and carried her home as fast as I could.

When we got back to the house, her cut was completely closed up. As if it never
even happened."

Thane grimaced. It wasn't the ending he expected. "So what-you're saying Nahlia's a
healer?"

"That's what I'm saying," he replied. "I've seen her heal herself a dozen times
since that day. On top of that, she's never gotten sick. Not once."

Thane considered that for a moment. It certainly wasn't impossible. After all,
members of Clan Trevelyan were said to be decedents of Trelu, the Archaeon who was
renowned for her healing abilities.

"You think she ever realized what she was doing?" Thane finally asked.

"Probably," Cole said. "She's a smart girl. Smarter than you, that's for sure."

Thane chuckled slightly. It was hard to argue, given his current predicament. "But
you never told her she was special?"

"I told her that being an Aeon made her special. That was true enough, considering
we were surrounded by humans."

"Only... there hasn't been an Aeon healer for centuries. If she really can do what
you say you can, she would be the only one in all of Valaridor."

"You think I should have told her that?" Cole asked. "You think I should have
handed her to over to the Aeons of Whiteclff so they could spend a few years
training her, only to stick her on a battlefield?"

Thane hesitated.

"My wife and I already lived that life," Cole continued. "We saw enough of war in
our time... We wanted

to keep our daughter out of it. To let her have a normal life."

"I'm sorry," Thane said earnestly. "If it wasn't for me, she might never have gone
to Whitecliff."

"Maybe..." Cole shrugged. "Or maybe I was just delaying the inevitable by keeping
her in Northshire. We could spend all night talking about whose fault this was, but
that won't get my daughter back... or your friend."

Cole finished weaving the last of the stitches, then Thane turned around to face
him. It hurt to lift his head from his numb shoulders.

"That's right, Spectre." The other man leaned against the cell's iron bars. "I can
tell you care about that girl. But I also know that she isn't Ashara Spectre."

Thane raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"You may have been able to fool the others," Cole said. "But that girl was my only
company down here for the past five weeks. She's smart, and strong, and well-
spoken, but she's not your sister. She's not even an Aeon."

"You're right," Thane said. "She's a human. But contrary to popular belief, Aeons
give birth to human children all the time, and vice-versa. It doesn't prove
anything."

"No," Cole agreed. "it doesn't. But I didn't grow up in some backwater village like
Saul Mason and his officers.. I grew up in Ascalon. I knew your parents and your
grand parents.... And do you know what I remember about them?"

Thane shrugged. "I have a feeling you're about to tell me."

"Dark brown eyes," he gestured toward Thane. "Eyes like yours. And while your
friend might have your clan sigil tattooed on her back, I also saw her scars.

No Aeon princess would have scars like those."

Cole took a step closer, lowering his voice. "No... If I had to guess, I'd say this
girl is a decoy, and that the real Ashara Spectre is safe in Dragonshard."

Reluctantly, Thane looked up. This was a dangerous secret to share, but there was
no point in keeping it from him now. Not when all of their lives were already in
danger.

"Her real name is Kira," Thane said. "She was one of sister's handmaidens. She's
also my fiancé."
The name felt strange on his tongue. After all, he hadn't spoken it in over a year.

Thane took a deep breath and continued. "When my father gave us over to Saul Mason
as hostages, he asked for a volunteer to go in my sister's place. Kira knew the
risks, and I begged her not to come... but she thought she owed Ashara her life.
You see... she was once a slave in Kalamir until Ashara had her freed."

Cole nodded. "If they had time to arrange a decoy for your sister, they could've
done the same for you. That means that you've never really been the Templar's
prisoner. You've been in control this whole time."

"Unfortunately..." Thane looked up and gave his chains a shake. "These are real.
They're not part of any plan." He sighed. "I got complacent. I trusted Saul, but I
underestimated his second-in-command. I assumed he was harmless."

Thane clenched his teeth at the thought of Kira locked in a room with that monster.
"I promised her that I would keep her safe. Aegon... I even murdered someone for
her. And now-"

"Enough," Cole interjected holding up a hand. "You made mistakes. That's what
happens when you play out of your league. Now... are you going to keep sulking, or
are we going to get her back?"

Thane set his jaw and tried to stand straighter, despite the chains. Cole was right
of course. It was time to show these Templars what happens to the enemies of Clan
Spectre.

"Do you know where they might've taken her?" Cole asked.

He nodded. "To the keep. It's a smaller island, off the coast of the main one."

"And how many Templars can we expect to find between here and there?"

Thane paused. "It depends on how many the Knight Commander left behind. It could
dozens... or it could be hundreds."

"Let's assume hundreds then. If I get us out of of here, can we take them?

Despite everything, Thane smiled. "You get me out of these chains, and I promise
you: I'll kill every Aegon-forsaken Templar on this island."

=================

34 Pt.2: Confessions

I was right the whole time, Ciena thought as she led her half-blood captive through
Whitecliff's snow-covered courtyard. The sun had just barely risen over the
mountains to the east, and the Academy's buildings sparked with lantern light and
bright frosted windows in the blue darkness. The wind blew as hard and fierce as
Ciena herself, tossing her braided hair across her face.

Unlike most student trials which took place in the privacy of the Council chamber,
Nahlia's trial was to be public-held in the chapel for all to see. It was highly
irregular, but Vash claimed the students had a right to know what happened to their
Headmaster.

And to show them what happens to traitors who sell out their race, she thought.

Although the half-blood's hands and feet were bound in steel manacles, Ciena Raider
didn't take any chances. She kept a firm grip on Nahlia's upper-arm, small and
slender as it was. The other hand rested on her sword hilt. Two students guards
walked in front of them and another four followed close behind.

Overkill? Not in the slightest. The Council had already spent the last month
underestimating this girl They would be even bigger fools to do so again.

Too bad one of them had to die before they realized their mistake.

They passed under the chapel's towering stone archway. Inside, the the first rays
of morning light streamed in though stained glass windows, painting the scene in
splashes of violet, red and gold.

Nearly everyone in Whitecliff had shown up to see Nahlia judged-over two-hundred in

all. Several of the

students shot them cold glares as they made their slow way down the isle. But for
once, their looks weren't directed at Ciena.

"Traitor," they whispered.

"Liar."

"Murderer."

Finally, Ciena thought. Someone in this school who's even more infamous than I am.

They stopped at the front of the nave, and she attached Nahlia's manacles to
another steel chain inside the defendant box. The four remaining Council members
sat on the dais above, their expressions dark and unreadable.

She found Wolfe Clan sitting in their usual spot in the back row, but she couldn't
join them. As an on-duty student guard, Ciena would be required to stand for the
duration of the trial. Instead, she simply stood at the edge of the pew without
comment.

Relic looked up to regard her. "I hope now you understand."

Ciena glanced down, surprised. The two of them had hardly spoken since that day
they argued in the Gorge. "You mean why your uncle put her in Wolfe Clan?"

Relic nodded. "It was the only way I could get close to her. To keep an eye on
her."

"I get it," Ciena said. "Vash never trusted Nahlia. He was smarter than I gave him
credit for."

"I wanted to tell you," Relic said earnestly. "But he made me swear to keep it
between us. He said it was for the safety of the Academy."

Unless you're Headmaster Alveron, Ciena thought wryly. But she decided to spare
them her usual sarcastic remarks today. Even after all these years, the sacking of
Raidenwood still haunted her nightmares. Her half-blood uncle betraying
them to his band of human rebels... watching their city burn as he opened the gates
for the invading the Templar army.

No... Ciena would do anything to stop Whitecliff from experiencing that fate, and
she knew that Relic would do the same. The events of the past few weeks were but a
small price to pay.

"What's done is done," Ciena said. "Good job catching her."

"I only wish I'd gotten there sooner," she replied. "Instead I got complacent. For
a while there, I even thought Nahlia might be innocent."

"Everyone in this school got complacent," Ciena told her. "It's not your fault.
It's the Council's job to protect us, not the other way around. They should have
interrogated her more thoroughly. They should have done something. Anything."

Elias leaned back on the bench beside Relic, making a face.

"What?" Ciena said flatly.

He looked up. "I didn't say anything."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that face. It's the face you make when you disagree
with me. So spit it out."

"I agree with everything you said about the Council," Elias said. "But I don't
think Nahlia did this."

"What?" Relic turned to face him, her face incredulous. "She already confessed to
working with the Templars. What more do you want?"

"That doesn't mean she's capable of murder," he retorted. "The last time we talked,
she said she made a mistake joining a battleground clan. That she wasn't a violent
person."

Ciena let out a huff of ignition. "Well then, I guess that settles it. Our dear
Headmaster must have died of old age."

"You

want to keep your voice down? Elias snapped, looking around.

"What?" She shrugged. "It's a trial, not a funeral."

"Exactly," Relic told them. "The Council will sort this out. That's why we're
here."

***

Nahlia shifted uncomfortably in her cold, heavy chains, feeling the weight of two-
hundred eyes on her. Vash, Marwyn, Zidane. The members of Wolfe Clan, and so many
others whom she had never met. They were all watching her now. Judging her.

Her whole body felt stiff and half-frozen after spending two nights in the Ice
Cells. Despite the freezing temperatures, her captors hadn't even bothered to give
her a single blanket. It was like they wanted her to her to die of hypothermia
before the trial even began.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Master Vash broke the silence.
"Apprentice Nahlia Cole, you stand accused by this Council of murder and treason."

There was a short pause, and she heard the faint sound of a pen scribbling on
parchment.

"Is it true that you infiltrated this academy, working on behalf of another Aeon,
Thane Spectre?"

Nahlia nodded, and her voice came out dry and weak. "Yes."

"And is it true you gave him information regarding this Academy, in exchange for
your father's freedom?"

"Yes, but I-"

Vash held up a hand to silence her. "And, is it true, that you collaborated with
the Aeon, Thane Spectre to murder Headmaster Alveron?"

She didn't waste a heartbeat. "No. I did not."

"How would you say he died then?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

Nahlia retorted. "Haven't you examined his body by now?"

The Battlemaster's brow furrowed, and Nahlia immediately scolded herself and her
too-quick tongue.

"We have examined the body," Marwyn chimed in. "No wounds, no signs of disease or
infection. No signs of poison. Cause of death impossible to determine."

Nahlia found herself unable to meet Marwyn's gaze. Of all the Masters, she
respected him the most. She couldn't bare to see the disappointment on his face.

"You were there when he died," Master Zidane said, folding his hands on his lap.
"If you didn't kill him, then tell us what happened."

Nahlia took a deep breath, trying to forget about the horde of students standing
behind her. "He... fell unconscious when I gave him my necklace."

"We've already heard that story," The Battlemaster said. "We've also examined the
necklace thoroughly, and it held no remarkable qualities or attributes."

"That's because it's an Ethereal Shard," Nahlia explained. "Thane Spectre used it
to communicate with me this entire time. I believe he also used it to kill
Alveron."

"But you're the one who delivered the necklace to him in the first place," Vash
pointed out. "Even if Thane Spectre was the killer, is it safe to say he never
would have have accomplished it without your help?"

Nahlia set her jaw. "I never would have given him the necklace if I knew what would
happen! I went to his office that night to tell him the truth-to tell him I was
done spying for the Templars."

"So you say," Vash noted. "But you've had opportunities to come clean
before. If you recall, we interrogated you upon your arrival here in Whitecliff. We
asked you if you had been in contact with any other members of our race. You told
us you hadn't. Are we to understand that you lied to us then?"

Nahlia could do nothing but nod.

"And if you lied to us then, who's to say you aren't lying to us now? Why should
your word mean anything to us?"

Nahlia inhaled sharply. Vash had her, and there was nothing she could do or say to
convince them otherwise. But perhaps there was still time to save them.

She stood up in the defendant's box, trying hard to keep her voice steady and her
eyes free of tears. "I'm responsible. If it weren't for me, Alveron would still be
alive. Is that what you want me to say?"

Vash only sat back, watching her.

"If you're going to execute me for that, then go ahead. But you're only giving the
Templars what they want. They're on their way here right now, and punishing me
won't change that fact."

"Did Thane Spectre tell you that?" Vash asked. "That the Templars are on their
way?"

"No," she admitted. "But by killing Alveron, they've created chaos from the inside.
Instead of evacuating like we should be, they have us wasting our time with trials
and accusations."

"Evacuate?" Vash raised a thin, black eyebrow. "In doing so we would expose
ourselves to the Templars. No. That would be giving them what they want."

"So you'll do nothing then? You'll punish me and then go on like nothing is wrong?"

"Enough," Vash bellowed. "This is a trial. Not a discussion of Whitecliff's

defenses. Now sit down before we have you gagged."

***

The Half-blood is right, Ciena realized. Aegon curse her, but she's right.

She turned to her brother. "Have you talked to Mother recently?"

"Yesterday," Elias said. "But she only contacts her spies in Kyroth twice a week."

Ciena nodded, coiling a crimson braid around one of her hands. "So it is possible
that the army could have made their way North by now..."

He shrugged. "Last I heard, they had over a thousand troops on the island. I can't
imagine them just sneaking up here without someone noticing."

"True," Ciena said. "But I also can't imagine them killing Alveron with a bloody
necklace of all things."

"So you agree with me then," Elias noted. "That Nahlia wasn't Alveron's killer?"

"Regardless of who did it, the Templars are behind it. We need to do something
before the Council gets us all killed."

"Wait," Relic glanced back and forth between them. "What do you mean 'do
something'? We need to let the Council handle this."

Ciena rolled eyes. "Look Relic, I respect your uncle, but let's not forget that
Alveron was killed on his watch. And so far, I haven't seen him, or anyone else on
the Council take responsibility for that."

"That's because Nahlia and the Templars were responsible!"

"Please." Ciena snorted. Nahlia's a naive little girl from a backwater village.
Between the five of them, they should have been fifty steps ahead of her."

"Ciena's right," Elias mused. "Something else is going on here. It's almost as if
someone wants the Templars to attack."

***

The Council spent several minutes deliberating amongst themselves, and then finally
Vash stood. His dark silhouette made Nahlia shiver.

"Nahlia Cole, you are found guilty of treason against this Academy, and as an
accomplice to the murder of Headmaster Alveron. The punishment for this crime is
execution, to be carried out tomorrow at dawn."

Execution. Nahlia fell back in her seat, feeling lightheaded.

She had been braced to hear it, but it was a blow nonetheless. All running from the
Templars, trying so hard to keep herself and her father alive. Trying so hard to
avoid being a pawn in someone else's game. Now she was going to die at the hands of
her own race.

And unless someone stopped that Templar army, they were all going to die.

=================

35: Forever

ONE YEAR AGO

The people of Dragonshard were starving and restless after three months of constant
siege. The Republic armies surrounded the city. Over ten-thousand Templars, an
entire fleet of ships in the Dragon Sea, and another forty-thousand human foot
soldiers outside the city walls.

They blocked trade routes and food supplies, pillaged the local villages, even
threatened to invade Dragonshard itself. Although Thane knew they would never go
that far. Not when Clan Spectre had Ethermancers and dragons on their side.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop the Templars from trying to starve them out.

Thane's father had set out to sign a peace treaty with the Knight Commander earlier
that morning. After three hours of negotiation, he agreed to hand over Thane and
Ashara as hostages in exchange for an end to the siege. The two of them would stay
in Saul Mason's custody, assisting with the attack on Whitecliff Academy in the far
north.

"The Republic needs a victory against our race," King Spectre had explained to his
children after the meeting. "Better the Aeons of Whitecliff than us."

"Is this really the right thing to do?" Ashara asked. "Helping them find Whitecliff
just to save ourselves?"

"The northern Aeons are no allies of ours," his father said. "They've always
resented our clan for the power we hold. For our independence... for our open use
of Ethermancy."

"Even so," Thane began, "that doesn't make them our enemies."

"No," his father agreed, "It doesn't. And I'm not proposing we go to war with
Whitecliff. Merely that we misdirect the Templar's attention.

After all, Whitecliff is a military academy with students who are trained to fight
Templars."

"Meanwhile, Dragonshard has thousands of innocent children starving because of this

siege," Thane noted.

"Precisely. Was this an easy decision? No. But when you're a king, few decisions
are ever easy."

Thane sighed. He had heard similar lectures from his father before. They always
ended the same way: with talk of family, legacy, and the greater good. His father
used the same reasoning to force him to marry for politics rather than love.

***

It was evening now, and twilight covered the city of Dragonshard. From the bronze
spires of the palace, to the bustling city streets below. From the lush green
jungle in the North, to the white shores and blue waters to the South.

Thane sat down by the beach, gazing at the Republic blockade on the horizon. Their
tall masts and sails were black silhouettes against the falling sun.

Despite their presence, Thane still found solace next to the Dragon Sea. The
waves... the sense of vastness... it always filled him with a surreal sense of
peace. He enjoyed it now more than ever, knowing that it could be months before he
laid eyes on it again.

Or years, Thane thought. After all, Whitecliff Academy was said to be on the other
side of Valaridor.

He was still gazing at the blockade when he saw Kira from the corner of his eye.
Her feet were bare, and the wind blew her coral dress tight against her,
accentuating every curve of her slender figure.

Aegon, he thought. I'm going to miss her the most.

"I knew I'd find you here," Kira said, smiling. She smoothed out the skirt of her
dress and fell gracefully into the sand beside him, resting her head against his
shoulder.

Thane breathed through his nose, taking in her familiar scent. Fresh rain, Valasian
pear, and cherry blossom. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer. "I guess I
have a lot on my mind tonight."

"I know," she whispered. "I heard about the meeting with the Templars."

Thane nodded slowly. Her black hair felt smooth and cool against his neck. "Then
you know that I'm leaving in three days..."

"You're not the only one..." Kira hesitated, and he turned to regard her. She was
staring sheepishly down at the ocean waves. "Thane... I'm going with you."

He grimaced. "What are you talking about?"

She took a deep breath. "The King gathered Ashara's handmaidens in her chamber this
evening. He asked for a volunteer to go north in her place. To impersonate her..."

No... His father had mentioned using a decoy in Ashara's place. But no... not Kira.
Anyone but Kira. Three long months of uncertainty during the siege, and now
everything was changing so fast-spiraling out of control.

"I don't understand," Thane said. "Why would you volunteer for this?"

"You know why," Kira said. "I owe Ashara my life. She was the one who saved me from
those slavers when I was fourteen."

Thane let out a sigh of frustration, then turned to meet her dark blue eyes.
"Kira... these people who are taking us north-they're more dangerous than any
slavers. You've heard what they do to

Aeons. If they think you're one of us-"

"I know," she interjected. "But your father already signed the treaty. Someone has
to go north with you."

"Fine. Then why not one of the other handmaidens? They can pass for Ashara just as
easily as you."

"In a palace, maybe. But... " She shook her head. "You should have seen the fear in
their eyes when your father gathered us in there. They couldn't survive in
captivity. They would break under pressure."

And my father knew that, Thane realized. He knew that Kira would be compelled to
take Ashara's place.

For a moment, he wanted to protest further-to say that Ashara should be the one to
go. She may have been his younger sister, but she was also a skilled Ethermancer in
her own right. She had years of combat training, and was more than capable of
looking after herself. But no... Thanatos Spectre would never send both of his
children north with the enemy. Not when a human girl was willing to go in his
daughter's place.

"This is wrong," was all Thane could say. "You shouldn't have to do this. Unlike my
family, you've been innocent in this war."

"I want to do this," Kira said. "I've seen how the other women of the court look at
me, even after six years. At best, they see the prince's secret lover. At worst,
they see a helpless damsel who needed to be rescued."

"So what-this is about proving yourself to some courtiers?"

"It's about saving them," she said. "And to prove to myself that I can do more than
live a life of luxury in the palace, composing songs and stories."

Thane

frowned. "The world needs more sorts than just heroes and martyrs."

"I agree," she said. "And if I do this, I have the chance to save them all. To save
Dragonshard."

"To hell with Dragonshard," Thane said. "I love you. And I'd give up this entire
city for you if I had to."

She sighed. "You shouldn't say things like that. You're going to be king someday,
and these are your people."

"I know..." Thane exhaled, running a hand through his hair. When Kira reached over
and squeezed his hand, he felt some of the tension recede.

"I'd make a terrible king, wouldn't I?"

"Probably," Kira said with a small smile. "You'd have to find the right queen to
help you, or else you'd make an utter mess of things."

He chucked. "You think so?"

"Absolutely. I could see things getting so bad, your people may even speak fondly
of the days when they were under siege."

Thane knew she was joking, but there was also some truth in her words. As much as
Thane despised his father's decisions, he knew he couldn't do better. He knew he
could never choose between Dragonshard or Whitecliff, much less between his family
and the girl he loved.

But despite so many uncertainties, there was one thing Thane was sure of.

"You know," he began, still holding Kira's hand. "When I agreed to be Saul Mason's
hostage, I told my father that I had some conditions of my own."

Kira looked up at him, her blue eyes dancing. "Really?"

He nodded. "I told him that if I do this for Dragonshard, he has to let me have my
choice of who I marry. Aeon or human, nobleborn or otherwise. It shouldn't matter.

"With that in mind, there's something I need to ask you..." Thane reached into his
pocket and pulled out his mother's old wedding ring. A black gold band with a white
diamond.

Kira flushed, and Thane felt her body stiffen, as if she were holding her breath.

"Will you marry me, Kira?"

She smiled, raising a hand to her mouth. "Yes, Thane Spectre. I'll marry you."

Thane slid the ring on her finger, and she looked at it with fervent admiration.

He understood at once. They had been talking of marriage for years, but it always
seemed like a far away dream, undeserving of serious consideration. This proved
that it was finally real.
Kira looked up at him again. "I wont get to wear this after we leave, will I? After
all, I'll be Ashara Spectre then, and Ashara Spectre isn't engaged."

She's right, Thane realized. Nor could he call her by her real name, hold her like
this, or kiss her. Doing so would reveal their secret to the Templars. And if they
found out she was an imposter, she could be in even more danger than ever.

"No." Thane shook his head, and he reached out to take her hand again. "But we're
going to get through this. And once we're back home, you'll have the rest of your
life to be Kira Spectre."

=================

36 Pt.1: The Power to Destroy

Kira waited in the Knight Commander's bedchamber at the top of Kyroth's main keep.
Her right hand rested carefully on the skirt of her dress, feeling through to the
sheathed dagger beneath.

Use this only as a last resort, Thane had told her when he first gave her the
weapon. Sometimes, being armed puts you in even greater danger than before.

Thane was right. She would only get one chance to use this against Gallow, and she
had to make it count.

A few minutes passed, then the Templar Lieutenant came sauntering back into the
room, his eyes full of want and lust. More terrifying than any slaver.

Kira had to take control of the situation quickly. After all, she was supposed to
be an Aeon princess and a powerful Ethermancer. And while she knew little of her
assailant, she knew he came from a small village. And small villages had the
tendency to invent folklore regarding Aeon women.

As Gallow came closer, Kira put on what she hoped was a confident face and lowered
herself down on the large bed. She kept her hands out of sight so he couldn't see
them shaking.

"Well, it's about time you showed up," Kira told him. "Here I was worried that
Thane had finished you already."

Gallow chuckled, shaking his head. "Sorry Princess, but your brother's chained up
in a cell. He can't help you."

Kira returned his smile and patted the bed beside her. "Well then, how about you
come and have a seat? It's been a while since I've been alone with a human."

Gallow hesitated. "You're bluffing."

"Bluffing about what?" she said sweetly, sneaking a glance at

one of the nearby candles. It flickered slightly, but it was pure coincidence of
course.

"No..." Gallow shook his head, his fear fading into amusement. "You're not
dangerous. You're not like him."
"Of course I'm not dangerous." Kira rolled her eyes, still smiling. "On the
contrary, I'm quite harmless."

Gallow still seamed weary, but she knew she couldn't keep up this charade forever.
Soon enough, he wound find his courage, and when that happened...

Oh Thane... where are you?

***

Thane waited in the dark cell, his arms and shoulders still numb by the awkward
angle of being hung by his wrists. Aaron Cole lay on the stone floor before him,
ostensibly injured and unconscious.

Come on, Thane thought impatiently, counting down the seconds until Edwin and
Conner walked by on their next patrol.

He had made Kira three promises since freeing her in Kalamir all those years ago.
He told her that Dragonshard would be her new home. He told her that he would marry
her someday. And finally, he told her that if anyone threatened her, he bring the
wrath of Kalazhan down upon them.

Now that day had come, and he couldn't wait a minute longer.

His patience was rewarded when he heard the sound of footsteps clopping the dark
corridor. Thane tried to look nonchalant as the two guards discovered Cole's limp
and blood-covered body.

"Damnit Spectre," Edwin cursed. "What the hell did you do?"

Thane shrugged, pulling his lips into a dark, satisfied grin. "You should have
known better than to stick a human in my cell."

"Shit,"

Conner murmured. "The Knight Commander wanted him alive. He's gonna-"

"I know," Edwin interjected, reaching for his keys. "I know. Just shut up and get
him out of there."

Edwin began fumbling with his keys, and Conner eyed Thane suspiciously, drawing his
sword. "You try anything, I take out one of your eyes."

Thane smiled again. "Nice to know you're still afraid of me, Conner. Here I thought
these cursed chains were ruining my image."

Once inside, Edwin leaned down to check the pulse on Cole's neck. Conner was still
pointing his sword at Thane, his arm shaking.

"He's still breathing," Edwin said. "Come on, help me get him out of here."

Cole's eyes shot open, and he grabbed the dagger on Edwin's belt. There was a flash
of steel as he slashed the blade across the Templar's throat, releasing a red
geyser of blood.

"What the-" Conner whipped around, but Thane swung his body forward, wrapping his
legs around the other guard's neck to restrain him.
Cole was on his feet in a heartbeat, and he plunged the dagger into Conner's chest.
Thane released his grip, and the Templar's body hit the floor with a heavy thud.

Aegon, he thought. Never seen a human fight that fast.

Once Thane was free from his manacles, it only took them a few minutes to find
their equipment. Cole relieved Edwin's corpse of his arms and armor, and Thane
found his own shirt, cloak and boots sitting in a pile outside the cell. He was
relieved to find the Trevelyan necklace still inside the cloak's pocket.

"Where did you get that?" Cole asked, gesturing down

toward the silver crescent moon.

"A good story," Thane said, "for another time. Let's find Kira first."

"Right," the other man nodded in agreement. "Come on, If we hurry we can get across
the courtyard before anyone-"

"Prisoners loose!" came a young voice from further down the corridor. "Spectre and
Cole! They're escaping!" he bellowed as he ran for the exit.

Cole took out a throwing knife and sent it whirling through the air, into the boy's
back.

Too late. The Templars in the courtyard must have heard his cry, because the
warning drums began beating up above

"Well then," Cole said, retrieving his knife. "So much for subtlety." Then he
turned to Thane. "You better be everything they say you are, Spectre."

Thane took point as they climbed the stairs up into Kyroth's mains courtyard.
Outside, an entire legion of Templars stood waiting for them. Swordsmen and
spearmen formed ranks amongst the broken, snow covered buildings. Crossbowmen stood
on the battlements above, their silhouettes gleaming in the pale moonlight.

Thane's only consolation was the fact they had left the braziers burning.
Apparently Gallow didn't expect him to make it this far.

"Get back, Spectre," one of the sergeants called out,

Thane took a single step forward. He reached out with his mind and channeled every
flame within reach. The lanterns and torches under the cloister, the brazers in the
center... Each fire grew larger, and hotter-ready to bend to his will.

"My quarrel isn't with you lot," Thane said to the army. "Step aside. Give me
Lieutenant Gallow, and no

one else had to die."

The officer's face hardened. "This is your last warning."

Thane gave them had no such warning. After spending an entire year coiled and
restrained, he yearned for release. It was time for them to burn.

He raised his arms, and a dozen flames leapt from their braziers. As massive as
ocean tides. As deadly as snakes devouring their pray. Fire collided with armor and
flesh, and men cried out in pain.

"Loose!" the sergeant bellowed amongst the chaos, and several squads of crossbowmen
fired.

Thane and Cole broke off, each of them taking cover behind one of the broken
buildings.

Metal bolts whooshed past Thane as he ran, one grazing his cheek, several more
tearing holes in his cloak.

The Templar officers barked out commands, and the remaining bulk of the army
charged forward. Even after what they had seen, fifty against two must have seemed
like good odds.

Thane rose from his cover. He extended his palms again, and the flames obeyed,
erupting like torches in his bare hands.

As the enemy soldiers closed in around him, he countered with a wave of fiery
projectiles. One after another he struck them, blowing holes in their armor,
turning their faces into craters of smoldering flesh and skin.

Everything became a blur of flame and steel as he fought them back, swords and
spears swinging in every direction.

Thane was relieved to find Cole emerge from his cover again, and the two of them
fought back-to-back against the endless tide.

"More bowmen!" Cole called out. "Move!"

Thane looked up to see a line of

soldiers appear around Kyroth's wall. A hail of arrows flew down around them,
taking out several of their foes and just barely missing Thane.

He countered with a large pyro blast, sending up an explosion of bodies and stone
debris on the wall.

The two of them continued forward, cutting down every Templar that stood in their
way. Most of them died without any challenge, In that moment, Thane understood just
how powerful Ethermancers were compared to regular men. This was why Aeons were
feared, why they had ruled over humans for a thousand years.

As the dust and snow settled, Thane realized they had a clear path to the keep. But
the drawbridge... it was being raised.

He made a mad dash for the other side of the island, ignoring the remnants of the
army.

The drawbridge was already half-up when he reached the precipice, leaving a fifty-
foot gap between the main island and the keep. It was too far to jump, and the
cliffs were too steep to climb.

"Cover me," he told Cole.

Cole nodded, turning to fight off their pursuers.

Thane closed his eyes and concentrated. First, he focused on the fires in the
courtyard, then on the iron chains that held up the drawbridge. Slowly, he
transferred the energy from the braziers into several of the chain links, hoping to
Aegon that he had enough heat.

Twenty-eight-hundred degrees to melt iron, he remembered from his science lessons.

It seemed like such an impossibly large number now...

No, Thane scolded himself. Focus.

There was no room for doubt. The chains would break-they had to.

Even as the braziers and torches dimmed, Thane calmed his mind further, channeling
other forms of energy. The screams of the Templars as they died to Cole's blade,
the energy of the crossbow bolts as they whooshed through through the air.

Finally, he thought of Kira alone with that monster, and his mind expanded out
farther, touching upon the infinite energy of the Ethereal.

When he opened his eyes again, the chain links were glowing a bright orange, and
they snapped. Thane let out a sigh of relief as the wooden drawbridge fell before
him.

Hang on Kira, I'm coming.

=================

36 Pt.2: The Power to Destroy

"Enough games, Princess." Gallow took out his knife and held it to her throat. The
metal point was sharp and cold-enough to make Kira wince. She screwed her eyes
shut, too scared to breath despite her ever pounding heart.

"Now..." he whispered. "Take off your dress."

Kira opened her eyes but didn't meet his gaze. She knew she had a better chance of
escaping if she let Gallow believe he'd won. It was a technique she'd cultivated
after spending three years as a slave.

Slowly, she unlaced her bodice, letting the black garment fall to the floor around
her ankles. She shivered slightly, standing there in only her shift, her fingers
still resting on the dagger beneath.

And then the warning drums began to beat outside.

Had Thane escaped? She could only hope.

The sound made Gallow turn toward the window, and that was all the distraction Kira
needed. She whipped out her dagger and plunged the blade straight into the
Templar's gut.

Gallow let out an angry yelp, dropping his own weapon and falling backward. But the
wound wasn't as lethal as Kira hoped, and the larger man reacted quicker than she'd
imagined. He grabbed her by the wrist, squeezing so tightly, she feared her bones
might snap. Despite this, Kira refused to let go of her dagger.

"You little bitch," he sneered, his other hand wrapping around her neck. "Drop it."
She tried to struggle free, but he was too strong for her. Instead, she brought up
her knee and slammed it into her assailant's open wound. The blow sent him back
again, and this time she slashed her dagger

wildly across his body, hitting anything she could.

She landed a small cut on his arm, then a larger one on his chest. Finally, Gallow
collapsed on the floor in earnest, convulsing and coughing up a fit of blood.

The sight was so gruesome that Kira had to look away. Everything around the fallen
Templar was red, and she looked down to see her own hands and clothing were stained
as well. It all ran down her like warm, slippery worms.

"Guards!" Gallow called out in a dry, raspy voice.

Damn it, Kira thought. Be quiet!

"GUARDS!" he repeated.

Heart fluttering, she bolted for the door. It was already locked, but that would
only keep them out for so long.

"Lieutenant?" a voice called out from the other side. The wooden frame shook as he
tried to force it open.

"Bitch tried to kill me!" Gallow yelled back, struggling with every breath. "Get in
here... NOW!"

The pounding continued, and Kira whirled around in a desperate panic.

Any time now, Thane...

With no other options available, she began piling chairs and bookshelves up against
the door. She even managed to move a large writing desk, knocking over several
strange metal canisters in the process. One of them erupted with a dark, powdery
substance. Another canister landed on top of Gallow, which only made him complain
more.

Wooden splinters exploded from the door as metal axe heads came crashing through.
Once the lock was broken, half a dozen Templars burst inside.

Kira ran to the back part of the room and hid under the bed, for all the good that
would do

her. She may have taken Gallow by surprise, but she was useless in a real fight.

"She went that way," Gallow shouted to his guards. "Kill her!"

***

Thane charged through the lower levels of Kyroth's keep. He was unstoppable now. A
force of nature. His pyro blasts knocked over tables and chairs, blowing through
doors, and slaughtering anyone that stood in his way.

He had stopped sparing the soldiers who ran or surrendered. There was a storm
inside him now. It pushed him on, giving him strength, demanding death and
destruction for his enemies.
The fortress was dark at this hour, but his fires lit the eerie corridors with
primal red flames. He and Cole sprinted up all seven flights of stairs, knowing
Kira's life could depend on it.

When he finally reached the top level, he discovered that someone had forced open
the door to Saul Mason's bedchamber.

"Kira!" Thane shouted.

"In here!" an urgent voice called back.

He drained the corridor's lanterns and burst inside the room. Smashed wood and
fragments of furniture were strewn across the stone floor. Kira was nowhere to be
seen.

Instead, he found himself face-to-face with six members of Gallow's personal guard.
These men weren't like the peons and soldiers he'd fought in the courtyard. These
were fully fledged Templar Knights. They had fought and killed Aeons before-maybe
even other Ethermancers.

Cole was at his side a second later, sword drawn. Thane gave him a nod, then he
stepped forward, hitting the Templars with a flurry of red flames.

They raised their shields in unison, absorbing the impact.

Then, with their shields still up, they charged toward the door.

"Damn it," Thane hissed.

The two of them broke off In opposite directions. Thane sidestepped left toward the
hearth, refueling for a second wave of attacks. Cole went right, drawing the
attention of two Templars.

Three others swarmed around Thane's corner of the room, shields raised and swords
extended.

There was no point in trying to hit them head on, he would only waste precious
energy that way. Instead, Thane ducked down and swiped at their feet with one long,
fiery arc.

The force of his attack sent the three men collapsing in a pile. Thane ran toward
the nearest one. He didn't have a weapon, but he didn't need one.

He drove a knee into the Templar's chest, then he extended two fingers, forcing
them straight into the man's jugular. His eyes widened with horror, and the sound
he made was something inhuman.

The other two Templars were on their feet now, one of them swinging a sword in
Thane's direction.

He ducked to the side and picked up the fallen Templar's sword. It was hard to grip
with his hands so slick with blood and sweat,

Still kneeling on the floor, Thane raised the sword to block another strike
Fortunately, the man's shield was gone now, and Thane sent another wave of flames
shooting out from the hearth.

Heat collided with armor and flesh, and his life was over in the blink of an eye.
Thane looked over to see Cole sticking a sword through one of the Templars by the
window. The sixth Templar was no where to be-

A metal bolt grazed his thigh. Thane

turned and ducked away, leaping over the bodies of the fallen and dashing for cover
behind a fallen desk.

He pulled a third flame from the hearth and prepared to fire. When he stood up, he
saw Kira emerge from under the bed. She stuck a dagger in the bowman's back, and he
fell forward.

Thane smiled, breathing a long sigh of relief.

Kira immediately ran forward and jumped into his arms. She was warm and shivering
and covered with blood.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, tears of joy clouding her eyes. "I'm fine. You?"

Thane looked down at his own clothing. He too was a mess of blood and ash, but
there were no serious injuries. He smiled and pulled her closer, kissing her
forehead. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Not so fast, Spectre" a raspy voice called out from a dark corner of the room.

Thane turned to see Lieutenant Gallow emerge from his hiding place. In one hand he
held dagger. In the other was a small metal canister, leaking some sort of dark
powder.

"Oh no you don't." The hearth dimmed, and Thane conjured a flame in his right hand.

Cole ran forward to stop him. "Thane, wait!"

No... no mercy. He had waited far too long for this already. Gallow had to die for
what he'd done.

The Templar raised his dagger as if to throw it, but Thane was quicker. He hurled
his flaming projectile across the room, taking Gallow in the chest.

His body went up in flames There was a glowing brightness, and a blast of heat. The
room shook as shards of metal went flying in every direction.

"GET DOWN!" Cole

bellowed.

Thane moved to put himself between Kira and the explosion. He forced her to the
ground, then pushed the fire in the opposite direction, blasting a hole through the
ceiling.

Bits of ash and debris wafted down from the opening, revealing the morning sun
above. The dust cleared, but Thane couldn't hear anything besides his own
breathing. His vision was dark and blurred. He felt Kira beside him, still
breathing and in one piece.

"Thane..." she murmured.

"It's okay," Thane said, his voice sounding muffled due to his loss of hearing. He
reached out and took her hand. "We're okay."

"Th-" she tried to speak again, but the words were caught in her throat. Thane
followed her gaze down...

And then he saw it. A sharp piece of metal lodged into her chest. Two smaller
pieces protruded from her abdomen.

"Cole!" he called out, squeezing Kira's hand tighter.

The other man emerged from his cover and ran over.

"There's an infirmary downstairs," Thane stammered. His voice still sounded

distant, more like a panicked child than his own. "It has supplies. Can you help
her?"

Silence.

Thane looked up, and he saw the uncertainty in the other man's eyes.

"It's too late," Kira whispered beside him.

"No," Thane shook his head, squeezing her hand tighter. "Don't say that.

Kira smiled sadly. "It's all right, Thane. You came for me. That's all that
matters."

She tried to move closer to him, but the action made her wince and let out a soft
cry of pain.

We're going to get through this. They were free to return to Dragonshard now. She
would to be his queen someday.

"Just try to stay still," Thane told her.

Kira nodded, reaching up to touch his face. "Kiss me," she told him.

Thane leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were trembling, and he tasted blood and
tears. He just wanted to hold her close and tell her it would be okay...

As she slipped away, Thane tried to heal her... the way the Archaeon Trelu had
healed her dying mother. If Nahlia could do it, that proved it was more than a
legend.

Aegon, please let me heal her. Please... don't let her die.

The remaining flames in the room sputtered and shook. Thane's eyes burned hotter
than any fire he had ever conjured. He tried so hard to have faith, but deep down
he knew the truth. He couldn't help her now.

Aegon had only given him the power to destroy.

=================

37: One Last Time

"It's probably best if I do the talking," Elias told her in the corridor outside
Marwyn's lab.

"Fine by me," Ciena said with a shrug. Her brother had always been the diplomat in
the family. Besides, she got the impression that the Master Physician despised her.
No surprise there; she was responsible for many of his patient's injuries, after
all.

Inside, they found Marwyn standing behind a large desk. He wore a pair of dark
safety goggles as he tinkered with various burners, tubes and other scientific-
looking apparatus.

"Ah." Marwyn nodded up from his work. "Elias, Ciena... Here about Nahlia I
presume."

She raised an eyebrow. Straight to the point, that one. Got to give him credit for
that.

Her brother stepped forward, formal as ever. "Yes, Master. We-"

"Disagree with the Council's decision to execute her," Marwyn answered for him.
"Understandable. But came to me, not Master Vash. Why?"

"Nahlia still has information about our enemies," Elias said. "Don't you find it...
suspicious that the others moved so quickly to have her executed? I mean-shouldn't
we have at least taken the time to find out what she knows?"

Marwyn didn't reply, but Ciena watched his face carefully. His lips betrayed hints
of a grimace, as if he agreed with them, but refused to speak ill of the other
masters.

For Aegon's sake, she thought. We're at war, and everyone's a bloody politician.

Just then, one of Marwyn's contraptions let out a high-pitched screech. Ciena
jumped in surprise, but quickly played it off as annoyance. "What the hell is
that?" she demanded.

"Tea,"

Marwyn said absently as he lifted a metal urn from atop a coal burner. "Relaxing.
Calms the nerves. Should try it sometime."

Her brother followed, undaunted by the interruption. "We have to do something,

Master. Before it's too late."

"Do what?" Marwyn said, raising his goggles. "Already have spies on Kyroth. Scouts
outside the Academy. Will be warned of an attack days in advance."

Ciena stepped around her brother. "And what if someone did give away our location
here? Couldn't that same person eliminate our scouts and our spies?"

Marwyn remained silent as he poured three glasses of tea, handing one to each of
them.

"You think I'm paranoid," she said flatly. "Maybe I am. But paranoia could have
saved Raidenwood too." And your family, Ciena wanted to say, but even she knew
better than to cross that line.

"Regardless." Marwyn added a pinch of herbs to his own tea and began stirring.
"Haven't answered my question. What do you want?"

"We want you to give Nahlia back her necklace," Elias said. "She can use it to
contact her accomplice. We can gain the advantage by finding out where the Templars
are and how much they know."

"Can't do that," Marwyn said. "Too big a risk,"

"How? Nahlia doesn't know anything she didn't know before."

"Well... except for the fact that the Council wants her dead," Ciena noted.

Her brother gave her a flat look.

Marwyn grimaced, holding up a finger. "Voted against execution. Outnumbered three

to one. Nothing I could do for her."

"You can help us," Elias said. "If you disagree with the other masters, then don't

go along with them."

"No, Council made their decision. May not agree, but not my place to question.
Nature of democracy."

"You also taught Nahlia Ethermancy against their will," her brother pointed out.
"Correct me if I'm wrong Master, but she's the only one you ever taught."

"Yes..." Marwyn frowned, falling into a stool by his desk. "She was a good student.
Regrettable. But... also a liar and a spy."

"You're right. She made mistakes, and now we all know why."

"Did it to save her father," Marwyn mused.

Elias nodded again. "It was wrong, but it wasn't treason. She made the deal with
Thane Spectre before she even came to Whitecliff-before she met any of us. She
doesn't deserve to die for that."

Marwyn stopped, cup of steaming tea halfway to his lips. "I see. Not only planning
on giving her the necklace. You're planning on breaking her out." He regarded them
both, but his gaze seemed to fall on Ciena, and the keyring she held as a student
guard.

Ciena shuffled, but she didn't break his gaze. "It's the right thing to do," she
finally said.

"Interesting." Marwyn braced his chin, as if genuinely perplexed. "Wouldn't have

expected mercy from you, Ciena Raider."

Ciena snorted at that. Everyone always said she was merciless. And it was partially
true; she would have killed Nahlia on the battlefield without a second thought if
it meant protecting Whitecliff. But execution? No... that was motivated by fear and
politics. It accomplished nothing.

Marwyn stood up from his stool, not waiting for a reply. He strode across the room
and opened a
locked chest, pulling out a brown leather bag.

Elias reached for it, but Marwyn paused, giving them both a serious look. "Anyone
catches you with this, I tell them you stole it. Understand?"

"I understand," he said. "Thank you."

***

Why bother with a headsmen when you can have hypothermia instead? Nahlia thought as
she shivered in her frozen cage. At least her morbid sense of humor was still
intact.

She was laying on a stone bench that was frosted over with ice. Ice covered
everything in this blasted cell-the floor, the walls... even her tears seemed to
freeze on her cheeks.

Still, the cold provided a welcome distraction from her thoughts. Knowing that she
was going to die tomorrow at dawn... knowing that she had failed both her father
and Whitecliff... it was enough to make a girl go mad.

The silence and solitude were equally maddening. Her cell was pitch-black, but for
a single torch flickering in the corridor outside, too far away to provide any real
warmth or light. The only people she'd seen since her trial were the student guards
and the servants who brought her food and changed her chamber pot.

Nahlia was so desperate for freedom now, she even found herself praying to Aegon
for help. Something she hadn't done in years. It wasn't that she actually believed
Aegon would help her, but when you're desperate...

Nahlia paused when she heard footsteps in the corridor. She recognized the heavy
boots as those of a student guard, and the dark

silhouette outside the door confirmed it.

No... Nahlia sat up, feeling tense. It isn't morning yet. It can't be time.

The door opened with a sound like metal on glass, and Ciena Raider stepped inside.
Only this time she wasn't carrying her steel manacles. And-to Nahlia's surprise-she
shut the barred door behind her.

"W-what do you want?" Nahlia asked through chattering teeth.

"Relax," Ciena said in a harsh whisper. "I come in peace."

Nahlia only stared at the other girl. The angles of her face were made even harsher
by the light of the torch she carried. A month ago, Nahlia might have even been
intimidated.

"I have a proposition for you," she began. "But first I need to know something.
During your trial, you mentioned using your necklace to contact Thane Spectre."

Nahlia nodded.

"What if I give you that necklace now? Can you contact him and find out where the
Templars are?"

"I..." She shivered again. Speaking was almost impossible with her lips so numb and
trembling.

"Oh for Aegon's sake..." Ciena rolled her eyes, removing her black fur-cloak and
tossing it to her.

Nahlia didn't even hesitate before wrapping it tightly around her shoulders. The
cloak was so warm; it felt better than climbing into bed after a long shift at the
Moonstone.

"I don't understand," she finally said. "Why would you help me?"

"This isn't about you, Halfblood. It's about Whitecliff-about cleaning up this mess
you landed us in. Now, can you contact your accomplice or not?"

Nahlia met her eyes, judging her sincerity. Thane had already played her for a fool
once; she couldn't let it happen again. And after everything Ciena had done to
her... but no. Ciena Raider may have been harsh and violent, but she wasn't
deceptive. If anything, she was too blunt.

"Yes." Nahlia nodded with conviction. "I can do it."

"Good." Ciena pulled out a dark leather pouch and shook it empty. The necklace fell
to the floor between them, making a crack in the ice.

Of course, Nahlia thought. After what happened to Alveron, no one else would dare
touch it.

She leaned forward and wrapped her numb fingers around the silver crescent moon.
Its touch brought her an even greater sense of warmth and hope, like the Ethereal
itself.

"How long do you need?" Ciena asked.

Nahlia shrugged. "An hour, maybe."

"Good." She nodded and turned to leave. "I'll be standing guard outside. Call me as
soon as you know something."

She looked up to regard Ciena, but the other girl was already turning to leave.

Nahlia exhaled sharply, then she closed her eyes and concentrated.

It didn't take long for her to feel Thane's presence on the other side. She latched
onto him, bringing them both into the Ethereal one last time.

=================

38: Tonight
Thanks to @RebelDynasty and @OliviaDarlene who helped beta-read the first half of
this chapter!

Nahlia and Thane materialized in the middle of an empty field, similar to the ones
on the outskirts of Northshire. Dew covered the cool grass beneath their feet, and
the sun was creeping over the horizon-a rich, orange sphere against the morning
mists. Nahlia shivered at the sight of it. This may have been a dream, but time was
running out nonetheless.

Her hair drifted on the faintest whisper of a wind as her gaze wandered over to
Thane. He looked... different from before. More disheveled, eyes filled with
weariness and pain.

"Nahlia..." Thane said, turning to face her.

Nahlia shifted uneasily beneath his gaze, autumn leaves cracking beneath her boots.

"Listen, I need to tell you-"

"Did you kill Alveron?" she interjected.

There was a short pause, then he lowered his eyes. "Yes."

"I knew it," she snapped "You killed him here in the Ethereal, didn't you? You
killed him, and you let me take the blame."

"No," he said at once. "I didn't mean for them to blame you."

"But this was the reason you sent me here, isn't it?"

"I made a deal with the Knight Commander, He said he would..." Thane shook his head
as if to clear it. "It doesn't matter anymore. I made a mistake."

Nahlia tensed, taking an involuntary step back. As if in response to her thoughts,

the Ethereal itself began to change. Storm clouds swirled around the horizon,
blocking out the sun. The air grew colder, and the wind blew more fierce

Sensing her

anxiety, Thane continued quickly. "I'm not going to hurt you, Nahlia. You have my
word."

"Is that so?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "And what good is the word of a
murderer?"

Thane sighed, raising his palms in a conciliatory gesture. "You're right. I

murdered Alveron. I killed two-hundred Templars in Kyroth, and I destroyed the only
girl I ever loved."

He winced at his own words, and Nahlia saw his hands curl into fists as he spoke.

Two hundred Templars... It had only taken six of them to capture the Moonstone.
Twenty to kill her mother and drive them away from their home. Aegon... what sort
of Ethermancer is he?
"Despite all that," Thane continued. "I keep my promises. I'm coming north, and I'm
bringing your father."

Nahlia brightened at that. "My father? He's all right then?"

"He's all right. We helped each other escape Kyroth, and we're on our way to
Whitecliff right now.

Nahlia took a breath, then let it out in a rush. It was the first good news she'd
heard in days-maybe even weeks. For a second, she even started to have hope again.

"But there's something else," Thane said. "The Templar army set out ahead of us
almost two days ago. They could arrive at Whitecliff tonight for all I know."

Nahlia grimaced. "I don't understand. How can they attack Whitecliff when they
don't even know where it is?"

"Your father and I found several copies of a map in the Knight Commander's office,"
Thane explained. "It shows an entire layout of the academy, including secret
entrances. I don't know where they got it, but they must

have had it this entire time."

Nahlia shook her head in disbelief, too angry to be afraid. "How could you let this
happen? You told me you had a plan! You promised me we'd be safe!"

"My plan didn't work," he admitted. "None of it worked. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? That's all you have to say? After all that talk of preventing this
war... you kill Whitecliff's Headmaster and let the Templars find the Academy?"

She wanted to tell him what a fool he was for making a deal with the them in the
first place. But no... she had made the same deal. They had both misplaced their
trust, and now they were paying the price.

"I never meant for any of this to happen," Thane said. "I never wanted to kill
Alveron or those Templars... I never wanted to hurt anyone." He finally looked up
and met her eyes. "But there are bigger things happening now than you and I. Saul
Mason is sailing north with two thousand men. You need to evacuate."

"You think I didn't try that already?" Nahlia shot back." They think they're safe
here. They think that an evacuation will only give away their position."

"They're wrong," Thane said. "We found barrels of black powder inside Kyroth's
keep. Your father thinks they're going to use it to destroy the academy."

"Black powder?"

He nodded, proceeding slowly, as if the words pained him. "It's a Templar weapon
they developed shortly after the Purge. A mixture of chemical compounds... powerful
enough to blow through stone. Whatever defenses Whitecliff has, they won't be
enough to stop it."

"And what if they don't listen to me?"

"Make

them," Thane said. "If you don't, everyone in Whitecliff is going to die."
***

A great spider of lightning crept across the sky as Ciena Raider jogged through
Whitecliff's courtyard, making her way from the stockades to the bell tower.

The half-blood had told her everything in the span of a few minutes.

They know our location. They have two thousand men sailing north, and some sort of
powder that can burn through stone.

The time for patience was over. Now it was time to get the hell out of here.

She climbed three flights of stairs to the top floor of the tower. The boy at the
top rose to his feet when he saw her.

"Sound the alarm," Ciena told him. "We're under attack."

"W-what?"

"Just do it," she snapped. "Now."

Still looking bewildered, the boy pulled the rope, and the sound of ringing bells
filled the courtyard, echoing through the Gorge below and the mountains beyond. The
sound sent goosebumps down Ciena's neck.

"Is this a drill?" one of the other guards asked her.

"No," she said flatly. "It's the Templars. They're on their way here right now."
Before either of them could prod her further, she turned and headed back down the
stairs to join the other battle clan members.

Ciena still remembered her first drill as a first-year student. The young members
of Wolfe Clan were woken from their beds in the night, given less than a minute to
dress. Three minutes after that, they were herded all the way down into the lower
caves with the other younglings, healing clans and scholar clans. Ciena had been so
small then back then, she feared the older students would trample her in the chaos.

But not anymore. It was different for the battle clans and student guards. They
armed themselves and made for the academy's surface, keeping the threat at bay
while the others retreated. That was her place now.

They had all formed ranks by the time Ciena reached the entrance of the tunnels.
Over a hundred students, armed and armored.

Master Vash emerged from the Master's Tower a few seconds later. He ignored the
line of assembled students and turned to Ciena, somehow knowing she was responsible
for this ordeal.

Great, Ciena thought as she swallowed against the dryness in her throat. Here we
go...

"What is the meaning of this, Raider?"

"It's exactly what you think," she said. "The Templars are attacking us tonight."

"So I've heard," Vash said in his usual, calm demeanor. "Do you have any proof of
this?"
Ciena opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a deafening bang. She felt
the sound not only in her ears, but in her entire being. Her face. Her chest.
Everything felt compressed, as if crushed by a giant boulder.

The ground shook, sending them falling back. The sky filled with fire, and chucks
of ice and stone debris fell all around them.

When Ciena opened her eyes again, everything was a white blur of snow and ash and
dust. She thought she heard shouting, but it was distant, drowned out by the sound
of her own breathing.

She turned back to the source of the explosion to discover the southern wall of the
courtyard had been completely obliterated. Her head throbbed, making it difficult
to open her eyes. She squinted as best she could, and then she finally saw them-
ranks of men in silver armor forming on the other side of the courtyard. Hundreds
of them.

The Templars had come.

=================

39: For Whitecliff

The army approached with slow determination, like a pack of wolves circling their
prey. Officers barked out orders as their soldiers filtered out from the tunnel,
forming ranks amongst the fallen debris.

I was right, was all Ciena could think as she lay in the snow, rain dribbling down
her face. She was right, but she was too late to save her home.

Templar crossbowmen made their way to the front lines, preparing to fire on the
Aeon army. Ciena tried to stand, but she only got as far as one knee.

"Raider!" Vash's voice still sounded muted, as if she were hearing it through
water.

She felt a strong, urgent grip around her shoulders, and a pair of muscular arms
pulled her to her feet. "Go!" the Battlemaster bellowed. Even as she struggled to
stand, he shoved her away from the approaching horde. "Get inside!"

Ciena turned to see the rest of the battle clans retreating to a more narrow,
defensible section of the courtyard. She jogged to catch up with them, and Vash
followed close behind. A pair of wooden doors slammed shut behind them as tall and
thick as tree trunks.

Ciena's vision was still dulled from the explosion, and she whirled around
desperately in search of someone she knew.

Elias!

She tried to call out to her brother, but the words didn't come. Members of Bear
Clan, Fox Clan and Raven Clan scattered around her, their faces a mixture of fear
and confusion. There was no sense of order, and half of them hadn't even drawn
their weapons yet.

The wooden doors shook with a force that sounded like a battering

ram. Aegon... The Templars were coming through, and the battle clans were all that
stood between them and the lower levels of the academy.

Vash climbed a small snowbank at the front of the army, then turned to address the
crowd of terrified students. His dark cloak billowed in the wind as he drew his
sword.

"Did you see them?" his voice boomed over the roar of the storm. "Those are
Templars coming through those doors! They live to kill Aeons, and now they're
coming for us. I know that you're afraid, but never forget who we are. We are
Aeons; the descendants of legends. Each and every one of you is worth a hundred
Templars, and tonight we're going to show them that."

Vash thrust his arm toward the shaking wooden doors."Battle clans of Whitecliff!
This is what you've been trained for! This is what you've been preparing for your
whole lives! Fight now! Fight now for Whitecliff!"

The crowd broke into a roar, and Ciena set her jaw, drawing her own sword as the
freezing rain pelted her face. Lightning struck again, and she took a breath,
letting it fill her with strength and resolve, just as it had that day in the Gorge
when she defeated Wolfe Clan. Only this time she wasn't fighting for honor or
glory, she was fighting to defend her home and her race.

The wooden doors groaned louder as the force of the battering ram ripped through
them. Splinters of wood flew out as Ciena made her slow way to the front lines.

***

Nahlia paced back and forth in her cell,

listening to the cacophony of sounds just outside. The ringing of warning bells.
Roaring thunder and rain. The battle cries of Aeons and Templars alike.

Thane was telling the truth this time, but had she been too late to save them?
Would they have enough time to evacuate? Aeon knew she would never forgive herself
if they-

Nahlia paused as heavy boots stormed down the corridor. She tried to make herself
small in the shadows as they passed, but prison cells weren't exactly known for
their spectacular hiding places. The best she could do was lay flat on the ground
beneath Ciena's dark cloak.

Shadows and flickering torchlight rounded the corner as the footsteps grew louder.
Nahlia's eyes were pressed shut, but it sounded like six or seven of them at least.

"These cells are all empty too," one of the Templars complained, giving the iron
bars a bang with his gauntlet.

"Quit complaining," a deeper voice ordered. "You'd rather be down there in the
vanguard?"

"Hell yeah I would," the younger soldier replied. "Signed up to kill Aeons, didn't
I? Bad enough the Knight Commander had us on that island for-"

"Hold up," another man said, bringing the group to a sudden halt. "I think I found
one."

Nahlia heard a sword swing free from its scabbard, and she opened her eyes just in
time to see him swing it between the cell bars. She immediately sprang to her feet,
moving out of reach.

"Damnit," the Templar sneered.

"Out of the way," another said as he loaded his crossbow. "I'll take care of this
one"

"No, wait!" Nahlia pleaded, raising

her hands in defense. Her eyes went wide with horror as he aimed the weapon between
the iron bars of her cell. There was nowhere to run this time.

"Hey!" a familiar, masculine voice called out from down the corridor.

The Templar turned, and a throwing knife took him in the chest. He fell backward
with a defiant groan, releasing his crossbow at the stone ceiling.

His allies took up swords and maces against their assailant, but Elias Raider was
too quick. He charged forward, spinning his dual blades as swift as quicksilver.
His first series of attacks deflected their weapons with ease. The next wave cut
through the weak spots of their armor, severing limbs and heads from bodies and
spraying the walls with crimson blood.

"Evening, Nahlia," he called out over the clash of steel. He parried, dodged and
whirled around, sticking his short-sword clear through the commander's eye.

"Elias! Behind you!"

He turned to see a larger Templar charge him with a shield, pinning him up against
the wall outside Nahlia's cell. Elias tried to push back, but the other man
outweighed him by at least seven stone.

"Get off him!" Nahlia shouted. She reached her hand out from the bars and gauged
the Templar in the eye. He let out a yelp and stumbled back, but he quickly
composed himself and charged again. This time, Elias sank to the floor, and the
larger man pushed his shield against his head as if to smash it.

Nahlia tried to reach for him again, but a gauntleted hand sent her flying backward
to the cell floor.

Just then, a thin, red line formed around

the Templar's throat. It looked like a dagger wound, but there was no one else in
sight. Elias pushed the man away, and he fell back soundlessly with arms
outstretched.
A female form with black hair materialized out of thin air, as if she'd been
invisible until now. She held a dagger in her right hand, dripping with fresh
blood.

"Relic?" Nahlia blurted out.

"Miss me?" the other girl said as she helped Elias to his feet.

"You-you're an Ethermancer."

"Don't tell anyone," Relic said with a grin. "It's not exactly a skill one learns
here at Whitecliff."

Before Nahlia could reply, a second pair of Templars rounded the corner.

Elias raised his swords in a defensive stance, and Relic vanished again, giving the
men pause. She was behind them a second later, slashing the backs of their necks
with her dagger.

Elias pulled out the keyring and unlocked the door to Nahlia's cell. "You all
right?"

Nahlia nodded briskly, giving him a weak smile. "I'm all right. Thanks."

"We should get to the lower levels," Relic said. "They'll send half the army this
way once they realize their squads are missing."

***

Ciena swept broadly with her sword, the point spraying water and blood as she
sheared through the neck of a Templar soldier. Master Vash, and the members of
Howler Clan fought beside her as the enemy poured through the entrance in an
endless tide, threatening to overwhelm them.

Ciena let the battle rage take her as she surged forward, killing every Templar who
emerged from the

opening. They were even more ruthless than she'd imagined,, but Vash was right; she
had spent her entire life training for this moment.

She dropped her sword and knelt down in the snow, picking up a quarterstaff from a
fallen student. Ciena spun and twirled the weapon, killing one foe after another.
One end plunged through mail armor into a kidney, the other slashed a Templar's
throat.

Despite everything, they were still outmatched by the enemy's sheer numbers. Ranks
of shield-bearers and pikemen poured out behind the swordsmen, forming an
impenetrable wall around the broken gate. The shields were over six feet tall, and
wider than a well built soldier. Spears stuck out between gaps, and they marched
forward, forcing the Aeon army back toward the entrance of the tunnels.
"We need to pull back inside!" she called out to Vash as she stuck her staff
through another Templar's chest "There are too many of them!"

Master Vash was fighting beside Kalak Demeron. The pair of them attempted to break
through the shield wall to no avail.

"Vash!" she repeated. "We need to-

Ciena paused when she saw the Templar bowmen filter out from the broken gate,
gaining the high ground on the snowbanks. behind the shieldwall.

"Pull back!" Vash gave the order just as the bowmen released a volley.

The metal bolts rained down on the crowd, heavy and hard. Ciena saw two members of
Bear Clan fall into the snow, screaming in pain. A bolt took Demeron in the head,
another took Marcus in the back as he ran.

There was no time to grieve for them. No time to think. Ciena pushed through the
fleeing stampede and dashed for the safety of the tunnels.

A/N: Sorry if these action chapters feel shorter than the others due to the fast-
paced nature. I may combine them in a future draft, but for now I'm sticking to the
usual word count to keep weekly updates consistent. :)

=================

40: A New Reason to Live

Thane manned the helm, steering their small ship over the treacherous waves of the
Frozen Sea. No moonlight illuminated their path, only darkness, and the occasional
flash of lightning over the horizon.

Growing up in a coastal city taught Thane a great deal about sailing and
navigation. Unfortunately, Dragonshard's tropical climate did little to prepare him
for blinding rains, howling winds, and patches of ice thick enough to crack a hull.

If it weren't for Cole's insistence, he would have found a nice quiet cove to wait
out the storm. But perhaps it was better this way. This way he could keep his mind
occupied instead of being left to his bitter thoughts.

Anything was better than that.

The storm began to subside, and he was still gazing at the open sea when Aaron Cole
came clanking up to the bridge in his Templar's armor.

"Need a break?" the other man asked, reaching for the wheel.

"I'm fine," Thane said, shaking his head. It was only then when he realized just
how much his back and shoulders ached from standing there. Aegon... How long had it
been? Five hours? Ten?
"Move over anyway," Cole said. "We'll both need our strength when we reach
Whitecliff."

Thane did so, stumbling away from the wheel and lowering himself on one of the
nearby wooden benches. The surface was drenched in freezing rain water. But then
again, so was he.

A few moments of silence passed, and all he heard was the sound of ocean waves, and
the light smacking of rain against the ship's sails. Thane crossed his arms and
looked up to the other man who was now staring blankly ahead.

"We've been traveling together for a day now, and you've barely spoken a word."

"Figured you'd rather grieve alone than pour your heart out to a stranger," Cole
said. "Was I wrong?"

"No," Thane murmured. Although that wasn't entirely true. Talking out his problems
had always helped before. Of course he always had Kira before. She had understood
him as no one else had-always listening, never judging. She had been so young; so
full of life, even after years of slavery and prison. And despite the dangers of
their mission, Thane never believed he would lose her. Even now he had trouble
believing she was gone.

Thane sighed, his breath making white mist before him. "It's my fault she's dead...
isn't it?"

'It was an accident," Cole replied. "Gallow's men would have killed her if you
hadn't shown up."

"I know. But if I had listened to you. You knew about the black powder-what it was.
If I hadn't been so quick to kill Gallow, Kira would still be alive right now."

"Maybe, maybe not. You can spend all night sitting there, pondering what-if's. It
won't change what happened."

"No," Thane agreed. "But I promised her I'd keep her safe. Tell me, how am I
supposed to live with myself after that? Knowing that I failed her?"

There was a short pause, then Cole turned to face him. "Do you know how I
recognized the black powder on Kyroth?"

Thane shrugged a shoulder. "Because it's a Templar weapon, and you're a Templar."

"More or less," he said. "My battalion was stationed in The Vale during the Purge,
only a few days after Idemre was burned. We marched

south when we heard the news, conquering every town we passed. We killed the Aeon
rulers and put our own men in their place.

"When we reached Drestin, there were several families of Aeons who had barricaded
themselves in the town chapel. It was a sturdy structure, made of solid marble with
crystal windows. Essentially indestructible.

Thane nodded at the familiar description. Many of the chapels he'd seen had
throughout the old Empire been built in a similar fashion.

"I was the only one there trained to use black powder," Cole went on." My
commanding officer knew this, and he ordered me to destroy the building with them
inside."
"And you did it," Thane mused. "I remember hearing about it as a child. The
Templars claimed to have conquered magic with science that day."

"I did it," Cole said, almost reluctantly. "I didn't think, I didn't argue. I just
set the charges and watched them burn."

"Well," Thane rasped, his voice shuddering against the cold. "I guess that makes us
both murderers, doesn't it?"

Cole nodded again, not meeting his gaze. "I became a Templar because I wanted to
free my race from oppression. From rulers like the Antarians and the Palatines. But
that day... I became everything I hated."

"So that's when you left the Order."

"That night," Cole said. "I rode all the way to Tregarde to find Lyanna, and we ran
off together. I never regretted my decision, but when Ascalon fell-when thousands
of Aeons were slain in the streets, a part of me wondered if I could have prevented
it all by staying."

"What?" Thane didn't bother to hide his shock. "You think you could have stopped
the Purge?

"I joined the Order as Nathanial Mason's squire," Cole explained. "He chose me to
take his place as Knight Commander if anything happened to him."

"I didn't know that," Thane admitted.

"No reason you should have," Cole said, making a dismissive gesture. "It's not
something Saul Mason would've made public after I ran. He became Knight Commander
in my place, and Lyanna and I disappeared outside the New Republic's borders.
Nahlia was born a year later, and I found a new reason to live."

Thane forced out a smile. "So you're trying to tell that things will get better
again. Why-so I can help you save your daughter?"

"This isn't about that," Cole said. "You gave me your word, and that's enough for
me. I'm talking about your life after this. As the heir to Dragonshard, you'll
still have a part to play in the wars to come. You'll have a chance to do some good
in this world."

Cole paused then, nodding up toward the horizon. "We're here."

Thane rose from his seat to see orange fire reflected from the storm clouds above.
Whitecliff Academy might have been hidden once, but no longer. Now the signs of war
shined like a beacon for all to see.

=================

41 Pt.1: The Front Lines

A/N: Happy (early) Thanksgiving!

"Hurry," Relic hollered as they rounded a corner, dodging another squad of
Templars.

Nahlia followed the two of them down several sets of stone stairs that led
underneath the prison cells. When they reached the bottom, Elias pulled a wooden
lever on the wall, dropping a heavy gate of solid stone behind them.

"I still don't understand," Nahlia said, breathing hard. "How's barricading
ourselves underground going to help? Wont the Templars trap us here?"

"Don't worry about that," Elias said. "Remember the caves I showed you before?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"Those connect to a harbor. That's our ticket out of here."

"What? We have a... harbor?" She hadn't even known the academy was near the sea.

"It's underground," he explained. "The entrance is buried by snow; about three

miles south of the Academy."

Relic nodded. wiping a layer of sweat from her forehead. "Three miles might not
seem like a long way. But trust me: when they wake you up and force to do a
surprise midnight drill, it's twice as excruciating as running the Gorge."

The three of them kept a brisk pace through the lower levels until they reached one
of the many underground atriums. Members of the battle clans dashed past them in
every which way, their uniforms covered in all manner of dirt and blood.

Nahlia steped back, raising a hand to her mouth as they carried several imjured
students through. One girl had a metal bolt protruding through her shoulder.
Another boy had a large gash across his abdomen, as long and

wide as a snake.

She felt their pain, and wished she could do something to help them... anything But
no... there were no medical supplies here. And she had never used Ethermancy to
heal anyone besides herself before. For all she knew, it wasn't even possible.

"Where's my sister?" Elias demanded of the fleeing students.

No one replied; they all kept running.

He grabbed a member of Howler Clan by the shoulders, forcing him against a stone
pillar. "Ciena! Where is she?"

"Th-th-that way." The boy pointed a shaky finger back from where he came. "She and
some of the others-they're holding them off."

"Aegon damnit," Elias cursed under breath. He let the boy go, then drew his swords
and set off in that direction. "Come on," he said to Nahlia and Relic. "I'm not
leaving without her!"
***

Ciena trailed Vash through the Academy's lower levels. They had already lowered
several stone gates to slow down the bulk of the army, but the Templars had
complete control of the surface now. It wouldn't take them long to find another way
in.

"I'll get the southern entrance," Vash told her. "You take the west."

Ciena nodded, setting off down another corridor toward the Gorge. She dashed down a
staircase, rounded a corner, then came face-to-face with her brother, Relic, and
Nahlia.

"Ciena!" Elias sheathed his swords, relief plain on his face.

She immediately dropped her quarterstaff and ran into her brother's arms. After so
much chaos and killing, all she wanted was the feeling of something

safe and familiar.

"You all right?" he asked. "You're shaking."

Ciena nodded into his shoulder. "Just a few scratches. Nothing serious."

"Good," he said, pulling away. "Come on, we need to get to the boats."

"No." Ciena grabbed his arm before he could turn away.."We can't leave yet. There
are too many wounded. We need to-"

She jumped as another explosion sounded down the tunnel. A second later, Master
Vash came charging down the hallway.

"The southern entrance?" Ciena asked.

"Destroyed," Vash hissed. "They're right behind me."

Elias took a step forward, glancing back and forth between them."We can't hold them
off on our own, Master. We have to run."

"I know." Vash ran a gloved hand through his black hair. "But it's hardly been
twenty minutes. The boats still will need more time."

Vash raised his sword and turned to face the southern tunnel. "Go," he told them.
"I'll hold them off."

"Uncle!" Relic said, pushing her way though. "You can't!"

The thundering footsteps grew louder down the tunnel, and Vash kept his gaze
forward, unyielding. "Elias... get my niece out of here. I don't care if you have
to knock her out and drag her."

Elias turned to do so, but Relic pushed him aside. "No! I won't leave without you!"

Just then, a squad of crossbowmen rounded the corner, releasing a blizzard of metal
shots in their direction.

Vash swung his sword in a blur of steel, sending the metal bits flying back with a
sound like a singing anvil. He only missed one, and that one took Relic in the
abdomen. She let out a cry of pain as she fell back

into the wall.

Vash's eyes darted to his niece, then back to his foes. He charged the crossbowmen
then, cutting them down in a vengeful fury. "GO!" he hollered back through the
fighting. "All of you!"

"Grab her!" Ciena told her brother.

Elias knelt down, gently scooping up the injured Relic in his arms. Then the four
of them set off toward the caves.

***

Nahlia struggled to keep up as Ciena led them through The Archives. Every pillar,
book and crystal lamp became a blur around her as they ran, racing through the
never-ending labyrinth of shelves.

Several more explosions sounded off in rapid succession. Distant as they were, the
sounds were still iron fists in her chest.

They continued on through the lower stacks, not slowing their pace until they
reached the rocky terrain of the caves beneath. Steam rose from a dozen hot springs
all around them, the surfaces of the pools glowing bright green under the
phosphorescent crystals.

"Stop," Elias called out to his sister. "We need to rest."

Ciena clenched her jaw and glanced uneasily behind them. "The Templars are right
behind us."

"I know that." He set Relic down next to one of pools. "But I need to get her wound
bandaged up."

"Fine." Ciena let out a sharp breath. "Two minutes. Then we move."

Nahlia glanced over to look at Relic, then immediately regretted it. The entire
bottom-half of her leather armor was stained a dark, burning red. She let out
several cries of pain as Elias pulled out the bolt from her stomach and made a
makeshift bandage for her wound.

caused this, she thought with disgust. She was responsible... not just for Relic,
but for every one of the Templar's victims. None of this would have happened if she
hadn't cooperated with Thane.

Feeling suddenly sick, Nahlia crawled over to one of the hot springs and started to
dry heave. Nothing came out, but the effort clouded her eyes with tears. The
clutched the rocky edge and closed her eyes, fighting down the swell of emotion.

"Nahlia..." Elias appeared behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Stop." She forced his hand away. She didn't want his sympathy. She didn't deserve
it. "This is all my fault..."

"No it's not," he replied. "You didn't mean to help them. You didn't realize what
you were doing."

"Yes I did." She nodded briskly. "I knew the risks, and I helped them anyway."

"The girl has a point," Ciena offered.

Elias sighed. "You're not helping."

Ciena rolled her eyes. "Well excuse me for not sugar-coating it like she's a child.
Incase you haven't noticed, there are two thousand Templars up there coming to kill
us!"

"Exactly," Elias shot back. "We need to work together if we're going to survive
this. We can point fingers once we're on the boats. Now are you going to help me
with these two, or not?"

For a second, Ciena looked as if she might object, but then her face softened.
Instead of arguing, she offered her hand to Nahlia. "All right... you heard him,
Halfblood. You can cry on the boats."

With some reluctance, Nahlia accepted Ciena's hand and let herself be pulled to her
feet. Although a part of her doubted whether she'd even be allowed on the boats
with them... for now she had to keep moving.

Elias went to pick up Relic again, but he paused when they heard muffled shouts
from the cavern entrace. The Templars were far closer than they'd anticipated.

"Damnt," Ciena snapped. "I told you! I told you they'd be right behind us!"

Elias nodded slowly, realization in is eyes. "You heard what Vash said. They need
more time."

For a moment, the twins exchanged silent, enigmatic looks. Finally, Elias turned to
face her. "Go Nahlia. Take Relic and go."

Her eyes widened. "What? What about you?"

"We can take care of ourselves," he said. "But Relic's wounded, and you're no
fighter. The two of you need to go. Now."
There was no condescension in his voice, just firm resolve. Nahlia turned to Ciena,
but her face was stern and passive as ever. They were going to sacrifice
themselves, just as Vash had.

"They're hundreds of them," Nahlia pleaded "If you stay behind, you'll die."

"And there are dozens of innocents and wounded up ahead," Elias countered. "If we
don't stay behind, the Templars will kill them all before they have a chance to
escape."

Nahlia opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. She wanted to tell them she was
sorry-that they deserved better that this-but the words got caught in her throat.
Everything was happening so fast now.

Elias helped a dazed Relic to her feet, then guided her arm around Nahlia's
shoulders for support. "The two of you keep moving," he said. "No matter what
happens. Get to the boats and don't look back."

=================

41 Pt.2: The Front Lines

A/N: Two chapters in one week, anyone?

Nahlia and Relic made their slow, limping way down the tunnel until it opened into
a larger clearing. A body of water filled the cavern floor, too large to be a pond,
but still too small to be a lake. Stalagmites and stalactites rose and fell around
them, some over ten feet tall and as wide as trees.

"You know I wouldn't blame you if you left me," Relic said, sounding delirious.

Blood loss, Nahlia realized. Of course. She still remembered that day in The
Hinterlands when the caravan members pulled her from the river. How her thoughts
spun in and out of fever dreams... how she had struggled to form words.

"I pretended to be your friend..." Relic went on, "I spied on you. I-"

"You were just doing your job," Nahlia interjected.

"Still... the Council almost killed you because of me."

"I'm not one to judge," she said, lowering her eyes to focus on the path in front
of them. "Besides, you came back to get me. That's all that matters."

"Wasn't even my idea," Relic murmured, relying more on Nahlia for support. "It was
Ciena Raider of all people. Can you believe that?"

Nahlia shook her head. "Come on... it's just a little bit farther."

"It's three miles," Relic said hopelessly. "Remember?"

Nahlia gritted her teeth as the other girl's legs gave out, pulling them both to
the stone floor of the cave.

"Come on, Relic!" Nahlia scolded her. "Elias and Ciena are fighting back there to
give us a chance."

"I can't," Relic said, her eyes brimming with tears. "It hurts

too much. You have to leave me."

Nahlia leaned down as if to carry her, but it was no use. Relic outweighed her by
at least twenty pounds. They were both the same size, but while Nahlia was slender
and lightly curved, the other girl was all muscle, hardened from years of combat
training.

"Aegon," she whispered. "Please just help us get to the boats... that's all we
need...." She took several deep breaths and imagined herself stronger. She tried to
lift Relic again... and failed.

The sounds of battle echoed from down the tunnel, and Nahlia felt a stab of panic.
"Come on, Relic!" she pleaded, her own voice sounding weak in her ears. "We need to
stand up now. I already left Elias and Ciena. I won't leave you too!"

Relic nodded, but made no attempt to move.

"Please," Nahlia continued to pray. "Just tell me what I'm supposed to do. Show me
the way."

Aegon abandoned you before, a voice whispered in her head. Pray all you want, he
won't listen. He didn't care when your mother died, and he doesn't care now.

Nahlia shook her head furiously. No more doubt; she could do this.

Without another thought, she took the other girl's arm and moved to stand. This
time, Relic moved with her, and there was a strange flickering of the crystal lamps
nearby, as if the energy were being sucked away.

Despite this small miracle, the rest of the walk was still long and excruciating.
It felt worse than a trek across Northshire in a blizzard; longer than a twelve
hour shift in the Moonstone. Her only consolation was the fact that Relic remained
lucid

enough to guide them through the never-ending maze of tunnels.

Nahlia breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached the their destination; a
massive domed cavern, wide enough for three ships to dock.

Master Vaulder stood aboard one of the vessels, shouting out orders as students and
staff members scrambled to prepare the ships and tend the wounded. Marwyn and
Zidane were no where to be seen, however.

A pair of guards let Nahlia pass, and one of the lookouts ran back to fetch a pair
of healing students for Relic.

"She was shot," Nahlia told them as they moved Relic to a stretcher. "We took out
the bolt, but she needs stitches."

Dozens of students cleared a path as they carried Relic aboard one of the ships.
They stripped away her leather armor and began cleaning away the blood. Nahlia
waited from a safe distance, hoping against hope that it wasn't too late.

There was a moment of silence from the healers, then one of them gave Nahlia a
curious look. "This is an old wound," she said. "At least two weeks."

"What? What are you-" But when she moved to get a closer look. she realized they
were right. Relic's wound-which had once been a gaping, bleeding hole in her
stomach-had begun to heal itself.

Did I do that? Nahlia wondered. Could she truly have healed Relic, the same way she
healed her own wounds?

There was an urgent shout from some other physicians, and the two women attending
Relic turned to leave.

Relic sat up wearily, though she looked much better off than before. When she
reached down to feel the spot on her stomach, amazement shone in her jade green
eyes. "You healed me," she said.

"I didn't even know I could do that." Nahlia admitted.

Everything happened in a blur around them after that. Orders were barked out to
various student workers The ship's sails were raised, the anchors were reeled in...

"Wait," Nahlia looked around. "We're not leaving without them, are we?"

Relic gave a sad nod, reaching to take Nahlia's hand. "We leave as soon as the
ship's are ready. That's the protocol."

"But-Elias.... Ciena..."

"They knew what they were doing when they stayed behind," Relic said. "So did my
uncle. There's nothing we can do for them now except pray that Aegon will keep them
safe.."

"No", Nahlia said, shaking her head. "Aegon doesn't work that way. He sent the
Aeons to do his work. He sent us."

Then she stood, just as the massive wooden doors of the harbor began to open.
Through the gap she saw the sun rising on the horizon.

Freedom. That was all she ever wanted, ever since this began.

But no... she couldn't leave Elias and Ciena to die. Not after she had caused the
attack in the first place... not while she had strength left to give.

Elias was right, she was no fighter, but she was a healer; that much was certain
now. She belonged on the front lines.

=================

42 Pt.1: The Knight Commander

Cole and Thane crept up the side of the mountain toward the Templar's camp. Ash and
rain blew through the early morning air, just as the faintest sliver of light
emerged over the Frozen Sea.
Soldiers and siege equipment littered the path up to the Academy, now distinguished
by a massive hole in the mountainside. That made Cole uneasy, but something worse
caught his attention. A quarter-mile from the main encampment sat a large supply of
barrels on the edge of the cliff.

Enough black powder to destroy a small fortress.

What are you planning now, Mason?

Intrigued, Cole pulled out the map they'd stolen from Kyroth, using his gauntleted
hand to shield it from the elements.

"What is it?" Thane asked, leaning forward.

"Those barrels..." he gestured to the distant cliff, then to the map he held.
"They're positioned here, right above the cavern entrance."

Thane grimaced. "Seems a strange place for an explosion."

"Not if the Aeons plan on escaping by sea," Cole said, pointing to the map again.
"See this cave here? It's big enough to hold several ships, and the southern side
is too straight, almost as if it's man-made."

"Like a door," Thane offered.

He nodded. "I think the Templars know that, and that they're going to cause a cave-
in when the boats try to escape."

"Damnit," Thane whispered. "They have them outnumbered ten to one, and they still
resort to their explosives."

Cole nodded again. It was a good plan, albeit a barbaric one. Chase the Aeons
through the tunnels until they're trapped, then end them all in one fell swoop.

"There

must be over a thousand of them," Thane said. "We can't take them all. And if I use
any fires around those barrels-"

"I know," Cole said, making a placating gesture. They couldn't force their way past
an entire army. And even if they did somehow sneak by and remove the barrels, the
Templars still had enough ships in the bay to prevent the Aeons' retreat,

No... there was only one thing he could do now.

"Go inside and find my daughter," Cole said. "Leave the Templars to me."

Thane paused for a long moment. "Look, Cole, I don't know what you're planning, but
you should know that Nahlia sacrificed a lot to help you. I don't want to be the
one to tell her-"

"You won't have to," he interjected. "As long as this works, we'll all go home
safe."

"All right," Thane said. "So what are you going to?"
Cole lowered his visor and stood. "What I should have done eighteen years ago."

Thane nodded as if in understanding, then he vanished into the shadows toward

Whitecliff.

After he left, Cole set off into the Templar's camp to find Saul Mason.

Soldiers and guards saluted as he passed, on account of his officer's armor. Others
simply ignored him, too busy with their own tasks around the camp.

After a few minutes of searching, he found the Knight Commander standing in a

makeshift tent with a few other officers. His armor was all glimmering silver and
unblemished, a sign that he never actually entered the fray.

I can use that, he thought.

Cole stood in the clearing for several heartbeats, casing aside any fear or doubt.
He couldn't undo the horrors

of the Purge, but he could stop this war now. He could avenge Lyanna and Hector,
and everyone else this man had killed.

Cole removed his helmet and shouted over the falling rain. "Mason!"

The Knight Commander looked up, surprised. Then his face hardened when he saw Cole
standing in the clearing. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Gallow went back on your deal," Cole shot back, drawing the attention of several
more men. "Spectre killed him, and everyone else on Kyroth."

He gave the words time to sink in, then he drew his sword from its scabbard. "Now
it's time I had my vengeance."

Mason led out laugh, sauntering forth from the tent. "You think I'm going to fight
you, Cole? Look around you."

Cole took a casual glance around, meeting the eyes of several men. "And why should
they fight for you when you wont fight for them?"

"My men have honor," Mason sneered. "And they follow orders. Something a deserter
would know nothing of."

"You're right," Cole said, loud enough for all to hear.. "I left the Order. But not
for lack of honor. No... I left because I was done murdering innocent women and
children. Because I was done raiding homes and burning chapels in the night.

"I left because I was done taking orders from politicians who sat in their towers,
terrified of what they didn't understand. Now I'm free, and I only kill men like
you."

Mason shook his head, amused. "Your words fall on deaf ears. No one here cares for
the ravings of a traitor."

"No more words then." Cole lifted his blade toward the Knight Commander. "Just you
and me."

Saul Mason turned

his back on Cole, gesturing toward his personal guard. "Kill him."
Three men charged forward, and the onlookers took several nervous steps back.

Cole drove his own sword into the snow before him, and sent two throwing stars
soaring through the air. His aim was true, and the blades took the first two men in
their necks.

As the third man closed in, Cole lifted his sword from the snow, its blade glowing
in the morning sun. He reigned down on his opponent with three, perfect, powerful
strikes.

The other man raised his own sword to parry the first, letting out a clangor of
steel on steel.

Cole's second attack sent the man's sword flying free, and the third took him in
the chest, piercing plate and bone and flesh.

Without missing a beat, he pulled the sword free and waved it in a wide arc toward
the crowd. "Anyone else?"

The surrounding Templars remained silent, and Cole straightened his posture,
turning to face the Knight Commander once again. "Saul Mason, I hereby declare you
unfit to lead. And I challenge for you for leadership of the Templar Order."

"You can't challenge me," Mason said. "You aren't a Templar."

"You know the words of our order," Cole retorted "One never stops being a Templar.
We serve until death. You want to execute me for being a deserter?" He raised his
sword to the other man. "Come and try."

Mason looked around at the crowd which had now grown to include several hundred
men. Cole could only hope they'd heard the stories; how Saul Mason had slid into
leadership after his father's death, without any real show of

strength. How Nathaniel Mason had always meant for Cole to lead.

The Knight Commander shook his head again, although his eyes betrayed some
uncertainty this time. "We will not be provoked by an Aeon sympathizer," he said
firmly. "You think they would follow you after everything you've done to betray
your race? You'd return the Aeons to their former power, and we'd have a new
emperor in Ascalon."

The onlookers murmured in agreement this time, which quickly escalated to angry
shouting.

Well, shit. This wasn't going well at all, though the odds had been stacked against
him from the beginning. If he lost the favor of the crowd now, he'd be dead in less
than a minute.

Fortunately, he had one last move.

Cole pulled out the map from the front of his armor, holding it high for all to
see. "I trust you've all seen this? It's the map that your commander used to find
this academy. It came from one of the masters."

"Aye," Mason said. "It means I have a spy inside this academy."

"Is that so?" Cole said with mock interest. "An Aeon helping a Templar? You may
have manipulated Spectre and my daughter, but I think you serve this Aeon. I think
you're here because he wants you here."

The crowd was divided now, and Cole continued quickly before Mason could reply.
"Your commander is weak, too afraid to fight the Aeons, and too afraid to fight me
now. His father was a good man, yes. but Saul Mason is but an empty shadow-a mad
dog, desperately clinging to his role as leader."

"I ask you now, honorable members of the Templar Order, will you blindly follow
this coward, or shall we fight?"

The uproar was everything he could have hoped for; Templars cheering. Stomping
their feet and calling for blood.

Mason hid his anger behind a show a bravado, but Cole saw it in the man's eyes,
smoldering at the fringes.

He returned the Knight Commander's gaze with a smile, and raised his sword again.

This time, Mason drew his own weapon in response, and stepped forward into the
clearing.

=================

42 Pt.2: The Knight Commander

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry about the long delay in-between chapters. I had some
personal things going on that siphoned a lot of my creative energy, but I should be
back on track now.

This next chapter is going to be short-just to help me get the momentum going
again-but don't worry. I have the whole week off from work for Christmas vacation,
so I'm planning on writing another one over the next few days! :)

The two men circled each other like dire wolves in a forest clearing. Swords drawn
and scabbards cast aside, each waiting for the other to strike. Although Cole knew
that Saul Mason would never make the first move. The Knight Commander was too
careful, more an opportunist than a true fighter. He would surely...

No, he told himself. Don't think. Focus. You've never seen him fight. You have no
idea what he's capable of.

Rain hit them like falling icicles-broken droplets clinking on their metal armor.
The crowd of soldiers and officers waited in near-silence...

And then Cole charged forward. He struck Mason's left side in a faint, then came in
for another attack on the right. Mason side-stepped both attacks, unfazed, a grin
forming on his scarred face.

Cole came around behind around him, sweeping his sword in an arc.

Mason spun back to dodge the attack and lunged at him.

They continued this exchange for some time. Only seconds passed, but it seemed more
like hours. He couldn't deny that Mason was a seasoned fighter now. Every stance,
swing and parry had been practiced far beyond the point of mastery. This left their

minds open for greater strategy; the feel and shape of the fight itself, the
psychology of their opponents.

"Imagine if your father could see you now," Cole shouted in-between attacks. "His
only son-who he never thought could be a soldier-sparring with the greatest of all
his students."

Mason gave him a look that could wither stone, but his attacks remained precise and
efficient. Never using more force than he had to, never letting down his guard.

"If only you had been so brave in Idemre," Cole continued over the sound of
clanking steel. "Instead of hiding while that Aeon killed your family, you could
have helped him."

The Knight Commander took the bait this time, charging in with a series of violent,
reckless assaults.

Cole dodged and parried, but it proved more difficult than he'd expected. Mason was
strong and well-rested, while Cole had spent the past few weeks in a cell, followed
by a sleepless night on the sea. Each incoming blow felt more powerful than the
last. His head pounded, and his ears rung from the stain.

Still, he pressed on. He had to... for Nahlia's sake.

Mason came in with an upward blow, forcing Cole's sword to the ground. Before he
could respond, the Knight Commander brought his sword around and struck him across
the neck.

Cole stumbled back as hot blood sprayed from the wound. His vision blurred, but he
was still alive.

Mason wasted no time before coming in for yet another attack, charging the clearing
between them.

Cole countered with a flurry of his own, and he landed a gash across the Knight
Commander's abdomen.

Mason roared in response, raising a fist to Cole's chin, sending him back into the
snow.

Cole dropped his sword as he fell, and Mason raised his own weapon for a finishing
blow.

Reacting on instinct, Cole raised his gauntleted hand to catch the attack, and he
let out a cry of pain as the blade cut through his wrist, hitting bone.

"You should have run while you had the chance," Mason sneered. He pushed harder,
and the pain grew unbearable.

Cole felt through the snow with his free hand, and his fingers found the hilt of
his sword. He felt a surge of strength as he gripped it, and he plunged it through
Mason's chest.

The other man fell back, and Cole yanked his sword free, the blade dark and red.
The crowd remained silent and still as he made his way forward to deal the death
blow.

Everything became a blur after that: taking the final swing, watching Saul Mason's
lifeless body hit the snow, the crowd roaring in response.

Cole knew he should say something to the crowd, but no words came. His wounds were
too grave, and it took all of his strength to remain standing.

A pair of medics escorted him to one of the tents, and the officers followed.

"Your orders, Knight Commander?"

Orders... Cole thought, struggling to think clearly over the chaos and the pain of
his wounds. There were so many things... where to begin? He tried to speak, but his
throat was dry and he found himself coughing up blood instead.

"Sir?" the officer asked.

"Disarm the explosives on the ridge," he rasped. "And have your men pull back from
the Academy. We're leaving."

The officer nodded, jogging off to give the commands.

Cole let out a sigh of relief as the medics lowered him down into a chair. He only
hoped he wasn't too late to save Nahlia and the other Aeons.

=================

43: Strength and Fortitude

Ciena and Elias fought back-to-back in the confines of the narrow tunnel, forcing
the army of Templars to pour through in groups of two or three.

Alone, she was but one fighter against an endless horde, but with Elias at her
side, they were truly a force to be reckoned with. Every movement was as precise as
a dance routine. Their thoughts were in perfect syncronization-his dual blades and
her quarterstaff spinning in perfect harmony with one another.

"Down!" her brother shouted.

Ciena dropped to the cavern floor just as a volley of crossbow bolts soared passed
her. The water beneath her flowed red with the blood of their enemies, so thick she
could taste it.

The bolts were followed by a trio of attackers who sprang forth from the darkness.
Elias rushed toward them, dual blades spinning

Ciena sprang to her feet to watch their flank.

Four more Templar swordsman emerged from the other entrance, and Ciena made quick
work of them-bloodthirsty triumph surging through her as she slashed through the
weak points in their armor.

A brief silence followed their dying screams. Hollow and empty as a winter night
with no moon.
Elias let out a sigh of relief as he wiped a layer of sweat from his brow.

Ciena glanced around at the bodies that littered the cavern floor. Aegon... there
must have been at least three dozen there. She had never even killed anyone before
today, and now she had taken more lives than most Seekers did in a lifetime of
fighting.

The silence was broken by a series of metal canisters tossed through the cavern
entrance.

Ciena

tensed, taking a step back. More explosives? No... there was no fire here to light
them.

Elias grimaced. "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know," she said. "But we should move."

Her brother nodded, taking point in the opposite direction from where the canisters
were thrown. Their path was immediately halted by a wall of shields and spearmen.

"Damnit," Ciena sneered as she turned to head back the other way. By now, the
canisters had begun releasing a strange, dark, smoke, filling the tunnel and
clouding their vision.

She tried to feel her way forward, but her limbs were leaden, and the earth pulled
her down. Elias called out to her but his words were muted.

The smoke... it's poison.

The realization pulled Ciena from her senselessness, and she lifted her scarf up to
cover her face. Then, with the last of her strength, she pulled her quarterstaff
from the water and crawled from the darkness. A few breaths of clean air helped her
regain her senses, but her brother was still no were to be seen.

Smoke continued to fill the surrounding cavern, and a spearhead sailed passed her
cheek

Ciena ducked and spun her staff wildly against her assailants. Cries of pain
sounded through the smokey darkness, and she felt a burst of satisfaction. Still,
she couldn't stay here. There were too many Templars, and her scarf couldn't hold
out the poison for much longer. She had to-

"Ciena!" A nearby voice called out to her. Elias's voice.

She dashed back to the center of the tunnel and found several masked Templars
prodding

at the fallen bodies with their spears.

Ciena slashed her staff at them, relying more on instinct than sight now. Two men
fell, but one managed to graze her thigh with his spear.

Ciena gritted her teeth and lunged forward at the man, putting herself between him
and his spearhead. She found his neck and twisted, ending his life with a
satisfying snap.

By now the cavern was black as pitch. Even the light from the crystals had
flickered out.

"Elias!" Ciena shouted, breaking into a panicked sweat. She was losing blood now,
and the effects of the poison grew stronger still. Could she even walk?

She was about to give up, when someone grabbed her by the wrist.

"I'm here," her brother told her.

Ciena leaned on him for support, and the two of them stumbled through the darkness
toward a clear part of the cavern.

After several minutes of excruciating walking, they stepped into an area where the
crystals still glowed a bright red. Ciena took in a breath of fresh air, free from
poison and the scent of blood.

"You're hurt," Elias said, looking down at the gash in at her thigh.

"I'm fine," she replied. "Let's just keep-"

She turned just in time to see a Templar spearman emerge from the smoke behind
them. "Look out!"

She jumped away, stumbling on her injured leg. When she looked up again, she saw
the man's spear lodged into Elias's chest.

"NO!" Ciena bellowed.

The soldier moved on her next, but she used her good leg to sweep out the man's
legs from from under him. She was on top of him a second later, puling a dagger
from her belt and sticking it through his neck.

She turned to look at her brother then, lying lifeless a few feet away. Her
brother... who had been through everything with her these past twenty years. The
only person in this world who had never left her side.

Ciena crawled over. Then, for a second that never seemed to end, she held him, numb
as the realization set in.

"Elias?" she squeaked, taking his hand. "No... please."

There was no pulse, no sign of life. Her heart clenched with a loss she had never
felt before, and hot tears ran her cheeks.

"Kill her," a deep voice ordered.

Ciena looked up, bleary eyed, and saw a squad of crossbowmen rounding the corner

No, she thought as she moved to stand. She wouldn't let them have her too. She
clutched her brother's sword, ignoring the wounds on her body and the pain in her
heart.

Then she charged the Templars, just as their crossbow bolts soared through the
tunnel. One by one, the shards of metal tore through armor and flesh.

Finally, Ciena Raider fell backward, and the world faded to blackness.
=================

44: To Preserve and Protect

The water flowed in violent streams down the narrow tunnel, redder than the glow of
the crystal lamps on the wall. Nahlia fought back the urge to cringe as the icy
coldness drenched her cloak and filled her fur-lined boots.

The cavern was otherwise quiet, with no sounds of life or battle. She continued up
the sloped passageway, stepping around dozens of armored, mutilated corpses. It was
a grim sight to be sure. But it also gave her a strange sense of hope. Hope that
the Raider twins were still down here somewhere, fighting for their lives against
all odds.

Nahlia emerged from the tunnel and stepped into a large, open cavern. Water
cascaded down the stone walls like falling gems in the lamplight, pouring into a
lake of rubies, pearls and emeralds. More Templar corpses lay sprawled across the
pathway...

And then she saw them.

Elias Raider lay on his back, a gaping hole where his heart had once been.

Ciena lay beside him, her body full of metal bolts, her face nearly unrecognizable
from the blood and bruises that covered it.

No.... I was too late.

Nahlia collapsed on her knees before the fallen twins. She had only known them for
a few weeks, but they had been true Aeon warriors, that much was certain. The sort
of legendary Aeons from stories and songs who readily sacrificed themselves to
protect innocents. Even Ciena-who loathed her from the beginning-had still been
willing to die for her when the time came.

Nahlia's sobs echoed in the empty cavern, but there was no one left to hear. The
Aeons of Whitecliff had all retreated, and the Templars were

nowhere to be seen. She had been a fool to believe she could make a difference in
this war. Not after she had failed so many times before. Aegon had truly abandoned
them.

No. Nahlia shook her head furiously. She couldn't afford to think that way. Not
now; not when she had come so far and learned so much. The Ethermancers of old
could heal any wound, even lethal ones. The least she could do was try.

She crept closer to Elias's body, hands clasped over his still-bleeding chest.
There was no pulse, but he was still warm to the touch.

"Please," she whispered to Aegon, hoping against hope that he was listening. "Let
me bring them back. I have faith."

Nothing happened. No sound, no sign, no breath of life. Just the same hollow
emptiness as before, so large and despairing that it threatened to consume her too.

"I have faith," Nahlia repeated, shaking, tears brimming in her eyes. "Please, let
me heal them! Just this once, and I'll never doubt you again."

Several pairs of steel-bottomed boots echoed down one of the corridors. A sound
that was now all too familiar by now.

"The hell are you going?" A faint voice said.

"Hang on," another replied "I heard a noise down here."

Nahlia looked up to see three Templar soldiers standing in the entrance of the
cavern, crossbows fixed on her.

"I won't leave," Nahlia said to Aegon, ignoring her enemies. "Do you hear me? You
made me a healer, now let me heal them!"

She forced all doubt from her mind, any other possibility besides the three of them
leaving this cave. Nahlia fixed that image in her head, believing

it with every ounce of her being, down to the marrow of her bones.

"Shoot her," a voice echoed.

Nahlia continued to ignore them, pushing away the memories that had once made her
cringe and cower in fear. The bolt that took her mother's life. The one that nearly
killed her in the Hinterland. Nahlia forced them all away. She only had one goal
now, with no room for doubt.

The crossbows fired their metal shots, and Nahlia instinctively raised a hand to
protect herself. There was a flicker of bright light, and the bolts shattered
before her, turning to dust in a deafening bang.

She raised her eyes to meet her assailants, who looked even more shocked by the
display then she was. Unfortunately, the officer's shock was short-lived as he draw
his sword the space between them.

Nahlia raised her hand, as if to catch his sword. There was another flash of light,
and this time the force of it sent him flying backward.

"Leave," Nahlia told them. She spoke slowly and deliberately, as if they were no
more than children. "I'm only going to tell you once."

Despite the fact that she was unarmed and unable to truly defend herself, the three
men did as she said. One after another, they vanished into the tunnel from where
they'd come.

Suddenly, she felt ridiculous for doubting herself. Ethermancy wasn't about
pleading, negotiating or desperation. It was about faith, and using the gifts Aegon
had already given her.

She closed her eyes and followed the current of her thoughts into the familiar
serenity of the Ethereal. She felt the energy there, how it flowed into the
physical world. Through the crystals, down the facets of the rocks and over the
water's surface. She felt it as clear as the ground beneath her knees, fueled by
her faith and purpose. The power to preserve and protect.

I will heal Elias and Ciena. I will bring them back.

She pressed a hand to each of them and took in a single breath. This time, every
crystal lamp in the cavern flickered, and the river below them crystallized with
ice. It was as if the universe itself were bending to her will, advocating its
energy for this one purpose.
Their bodies resisted the healing, but Nahlia pushed harder. Drawing more energy,
using more willpower than she'd ever used before. More power than she knew even
existed.

She pushed the current of energy harder, past the point of discomfort or pain. So
hard, she felt as if her body and mind might shatter at the sheer weight of it. The
sensation felt like drowning... like rapidly dying of thirst... like trying to
control a tornado with nothing but her bare hands.

The river around her turned to solid ice, and the crystal lamps drained entirely.
Finally, when all light and warmth had left the cave, Elias's open heart began to
beat once again.

Nahlia pulled her hand back as the muscles and skin reknit themselves, forming
over, fast and smooth as flowing quicksilver. Beside him, there was a stir of
movement as Ciena let out a moan of pain.

When Elias Raider opened his eyes, Nahlia let her head fall to his chest, and she
wept tears of joy.

=================

45 Pt.1: The Emperor's Tomb

A/N: Hey everyone, sorry about the wait in-between updates. I've been pretty busy
moving into a new apartment and getting settled in. Hope everyone likes this
chapter! Only a few more to go until the book is finished!

"N-Nahlia?" Elias's voice came out in a rasp, and he immediately turned to cough up
blood on the ice-covered floor.

His sister was already sitting up beside him, her face barely visible in the
darkness. Ciena ran her fingers over the holes in her leather jerkin, feeling
through to the now-smooth skin beneath. When she turned to look at her brother, her
eyes grew wider still.

"You... you were dead."

Elias moved to sit up too, and Nahlia climbed off of him, slightly embarrassed
despite everything that had happened.

"I saw you get stabbed," Ciena murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Elias's raised his hand to the hole in his jerkin, and he breathed a visible sigh
of relief when he realized his wound was gone.

They both turned to look at Nahlia then as if waiting for an explanation. But what
could she tell them? Healing wounds was one thing; resurrection was something else
entirely. The idea was simply too huge-too miraculous to comprehend or put into
words. Yet it had happened all the same. She had used Ethermancy to bring the
Raider twins back from the dead.

Nahlia took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She was about to
open her mouth again when she was interrupted by the clamor of voices and footsteps
from down the corridor. Of course. She should have known the Templars would never

accept defeat.

"Get up!" she told the Raiders. "They're coming back!"

As the twins slowly got to their feet, Nahlia turned to face the unseen horde.

Zing! A metal bolt flew passed her in the darkness. She held out her hand to stop
them as she had before, but another bolt flew by, grazing her forearm.

"Let's go," Elias said, taking her arm.

Nahlia didn't need to be told twice. She whipped around and followed the Raiders
out of the clearing and into a new series of narrow tunnels.

"Where are we going?" she called out a they ran. "The boats already left!"

"Just follow me," he hollered back. "I know all the hiding places down here."

She followed the Raiders into a low-ceilinged cavern with more bubbling hot springs
and glowing crystals. Elias guided them around the pools, finally stopping in front
of a massive stone wall.

A dead end? Nahlia shifted uneasily, glancing over her shoulder as the sounds of
the Templars grew nearer.

The Raiders rolled several massive boulders aside, then ran their hands over the
stone surface beneath. It looked smooth; too smooth to be a natural part of the
cavern

Finally, two sections of the wall pivoted inward as Elias pushed open what appeared
to be a pair of stone doors. A gust of cold, ancient air escaped through the
passage way, ruffling their hair and clothing.

"Inside!" he told them. "Go!"

Nahlia did as he said, and the twins followed, pushing the doors shut behind them.

The chamber inside was man-made, its architecture resembling the other underground
sections of Whitecliff. Although this

place felt older somehow... far older.

"Where are we?" she asked.

Elias held up a finger to silence her, and he pressed his ear to the stone doors.
Ciena stood by his side, hands wrapped firmly on her sword hilt.

The three of them waited in silence for several long moments, listening to all
manner of complaints and curses from the Templars beyond. Orders were shouted,
followed by the metal clanking of weapons and armor.

Eventually, the footsteps faded, and the twins let out a sigh of relief.
"They'll be back," Ciena said. "We can't hold them off here forever."

"I know." Elias gave a weary nod. "But the boats are gone, and the surface is
overrun. There's nowhere else we can go now." After a moment, he turned to look at
Nahlia again."Relic... is she-"

"Relic's all right," she said at once. "She was on the boats when they left."

Before either of them could change the subject back to what happened, Nahlia turned
around to examine their new surroundings. The stone floor was dusty and weathered,
and many of the stone pillars were cracked, crumbling, or toppled over entirely.

She followed the main path toward the wall opposite the entrance. Its surface was
dominated by a single, solid piece of gray stone, the same color as the surrounding
walls. Ceremonial-like pillars stood tall on either side, and two crescent-shaped
holes sat its center, no bigger than her thumbs

"Was is this?" Nahlia asked.

"No one knows for sure," Elias said."Some speculate that it's a door, but we've
never found a way to open it."

Nahlia grimaced at that. It was hard to imagine that this "door" had sat untouched
in Whitecliff for centuries. "Has anyone tried?"

"The Masters forbade it."

Of course the Masters forbade it, Nahlia thought, running her hands over the stone
surface. There was a strong energy radiating from within. Stronger than an Ethereal
Shard, stronger than the crystal lamps which hung throughout the cavern. This felt
more like the Ethereal itself sprouting up into reality.

Her hand wandered to the pair of indented shapes in the center; two crescent moons
facing each other. Almost the same size as-

The doors by the entrance gave a loud shake, and the Raiders ran to put their backs
to it.

"Nahlia!" Elias shouted. "A little help, yeah?"

She ran over to put her own back again the doors, but they were clearly
outnumbered. The doors groaned and shook under the force of what must have been a
dozen Templars.

"Break off!" Ciena called out. The three of them jumped aside, and the Raiders drew
their swords in preparation.

But the door didn't open. Instead, a series of shouts broke from the other side.
Screams of pain and death, accompanied by crackling flames.

And then silence.

"It's all right," a familiar voice said from the other side. "The Templars are
dead."

Nahlia stood up and crept closer to the door. "Thane?"

The stone doors swung open, and Thane Spectre stood on the other side amongst a
pile of smoldering Templar corpses.
=================

45 Pt.2: The Emperor's Tomb

"Thane?" Ciena said, echoing Nahlia's words from only a moment ago. "Thane Spectre-
the one who killed Alveron?"

Thane stepped over his fallen victims, revealing his dark, disheveled face in the
lamplight. "Clearly you have me at a disadvantage."

He tried to pass through the doorway, but the twins stopped him, raising their
weapons with all the reflexes and speed of frightened cats.

"Put the swords down," he said with a weary sigh. "I didn't come here to-"

"Or what?" Elias interjected, raising his blade to Thane's throat. "You're
threatening us now, too?"

"No." He let out a sharp breath. "I'm not threatening anyone. I'm here to help
you." He gestured back to the fallen Templars as if to make his point.

"Then help us from elsewhere," Ciena sneered. "There are plenty more Templars on
the surface who aren't going to kill themselves."

"We know all about your family," Elias said. "Human or Aeon-it makes no difference
to you. You'll crush anyone who gets in your way. Now step back. I won't tell you
again."

"Neither will I." Thane narrowed his eyes. The crystal lamps flickered, the room
darkened, and a series of flames erupted between his fingers.

"Stop it!" Nahlia called out. She shoved her way past the Raider twins and moved to
stand between them. "That's enough-all of you!"

"Nahlia..." Elias's face hardened, his eyes darting from her to Thane. "He killed
Alveron-he led the Templars here in the first place. Don't tell me you still trust
him."

"Of course I don't trust him," she replied. "But I'm not

afraid of him either. And we've had enough fighting for one day. Please, I don't
want to see anyone else get hurt."

Reluctantly, the Raiders lowered their swords. Nahlia turned to face Thane again,
and he closed his hand into a loose fist, letting the flames flicker out into
sudden bursts of smoke.

Nahlia took a few breaths to compose herself, then asked, "What are you doing here,
Thane? Where's my father?"

"Still on the surface," Thane said. "He's trying to take control of the Templars
before things get any worse."

She raised her eyebrows, and he responded with a shrug. "His plan, not mine."
"Alright..." Nahlia nodded slowly. "If that's his plan, then we need to help him."

"We can't," Thane said. "Whether he succeeds or fails, you need to stay somewhere
safe. It won't do him any good to have his Aeon daughter show up. Not while he's
trying to earn the favor of a human army."

"Hate to interrupt," Ciena said, glancing at the open cavern behind them. "But if
we're not going to kill each other, we might as well talk inside."

Elias nodded in agreement as he stepped around Thane to close the stone doors
behind him.

Half an hour passed as they waited in silence. Nahlia sat with her back against the
wall, curled up beneath the warmth of a crystal lantern. Though a moment's peace
had finally come, a new struggle consumed her body as all the day's pain and
weariness surged through her. Hunger, thirst, fatigue, sleep deprivation. It all
came crashing down like an avalanche.

The Raider twins paced back and forth in front of the entrance, never taking

their hands off their sword hilts. Whether they were weary of the Templars or
Thane, she couldn't say. Thane sat across from Nahlia, his back against a stone
pillar, his face flush with exhaustion. The sight of him here in Whitecliff was
like two worlds colliding.

Occasionally, their silence was broken by distant cries of battle outside as the
Templars fought some unseen foe. Other Aeons who were left behind, perhaps? She
remembered seeing Vaulder on the boats, but Marwyn and Zidane were still
unaccounted for.

"They're still looking for us," Nahlia said to Thane. "Does that mean my father
failed?"

Thane shook his head. "Even if he defeats Saul Mason, it won't stop the entire
army. There will be chaos in their ranks. Some will be happy to return home, others
will want to stay and pillage-killing all they can. War is easy... the challenge is
stopping it once it starts."

She nodded in understanding. "So he'll never be safe, even if he wins."

"No less than we are now."

"Right..." Nahlia stood, eager to take her mind off everything that had happened.
Her attention wandered to the mysterious closed door opposite the entrance, and
Thane followed.

She waited in silence as he ran his ran his fingers over one of the dusty, crescent
shaped holes. A look of realization dawned on his face almost at once, as if he
recognized the Trevelyan clan sigil there.

"Apparently it's been locked for centuries," Nahlia said as she pulled out her
necklace and held it mere inches from the slot. "But If I'm right... you have the
other key."

Thane unrolled

his fingers to reveal a second silver moon glimmering in the lamplight. When he
looked up, she saw only concern in his eyes.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Thane asked.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because... the fact that you and I are here right now-with these Shards-it can't
all be a coincidence."

Nahlia stood up straighter, narrowing her eyes at him. "Let me guess... you know
something about this that I don't?"

"I know my father planned for me to be here after Whitecliff fell. He said I'd have
more work to do."

"But he didn't tell you about this locked door?"

Thane shook his head. "No."

She nodded. "Then it's safe to assume he didn't know. What would he gain by keeping
it a secret?"

"But what if someone did know?" Thane offered. Then he turned to regard the Raider
twins who had taken a sudden interest in their conversation. "We found a map on
Kyroth. It showed the location of this academy, the layout, the secret entrances...
everything."

"Damnit..." Ciena cursed under her breath. "So that's how they knew."

Thane nodded. "Tell me... how many would have had access to a map like that?"

"The masters of the academy," Elias said. "And a handful of Seekers. Maybe a dozen
people in total."

"So," Thane began, "one of them betrayed you. But for what purpose?"

The sound of voices and clanking armor echoed outside beyond the first door,
causing several of them to start.

"If you can open this," Elias said. "I say we do it. It could be another way out of
here."

"Right," Ciena agreed. "If nothing

else, it's a better hiding spot than this."

Still hesitant, Thane turned to Nahlia.

"After all we've been through," she began slowly, "I think it's time we got some
real answers." And with that, Nahlia inserted her necklace into the door. The stone
panel gave a pulse of recognition, and they all looked at Thane in anticipation.

With a heavy sigh of defeat, he inserted his own shard into the keyhole. The door
pulsed once more before pivoting inward.

***
Thane took a deep breath as he lead the others under the newly created archway. The
chamber beyond was even larger than the first. Statues of hooded figures dominated
every corner of the room, towering above them toward the high vaulted ceilings. The
walls were decorated in old murals which depicted a gruesome scene of meteors
falling from the night sky, covering the cities and landscapes in fire and
brimstone.

In the center of the room sat a stone coffin as big as a wagon. A series of strange
glyphs decorated the cover, too ancient and weathered for anyone to bother reading.
However, the art style and the language were still enough to give Thane an
indication of the time frame.

"A tomb?" Ciena broke the silence, her voice echoing into the hollow emptiness
above. "All that secrecy to protect... a tomb?"

"Not just any tomb," Thane murmured. He blew a heavy layer of dust from the coffin
to reveal the clan sigil-a single red meteor descending from a midnight sky. "This
belonged to Palatine."

"Which one?"

Elias asked, leaning over to get a closer look.

"The Palatine," Thane repeated. "Archaeon of ambition and perseverance. First

Emperor of the East"

"Please." Ciena snorted at that. "The first Aeons died thousands of years ago.
Whiteclff may be old, but it sure as hell isn't that old."

"Whitecliff isn't that old," Nahlia agreed. "But this tomb could be. What If the
academy was built on top of this?" Then she turned and pointed toward the door.
"What if the Trevelyans built that to protect whatever is here?"

"Nothing's here," she replied, making an expansive gesture. "Just a fancy old room
with a corpse inside."

Thane ignored them as he examined the coffin more closely. He was far too exhausted
to give them a history lesson now. He knelt down at the foot of the coffin and
found a pressure plate.

Hello there. He pushed on the plate, and the coffin doors swung open, just as the
door to the chamber had.

Thane stood, and the other three let out up gasps of surprise before gathering
around. A twisting pillar rose from the center. On top of it sat a single artifact,
about the size and shape of an apple. The facets were solid black, and the edges
were sharp as freshly-cut obsidian. Stranger still, the artifact seemed to whisper
at them in strange, archaic languages. The voices were soft and tempting as falling
snow, but hard and urgent as thunder in his chest

"What is that?" Nahlia asked, raising a hand to her ear.

Thane said nothing, but he could feel the energy pulsing from it. LIke an Ethereal

Shard, but infinitely more powerful. He felt an overwhelming urge to touch it-to
take whatever secrets and power it held and claim them as his own.

He looked up, and saw Ciena reaching out her hand as if to do just that.

"Stop," Thane snapped. "This is a Codex."

Ciena grimaced, not withdrawing her hand. "It's a 'what'?"

He sighed as he tried to recall the formal definition. Of course it would have been
too much to expect Whitecliff to educate its students on such things.

"Is it like a book?" Nahlia offered.

"It-sort of," Thane said stammered, still struggling to keep his head cleat over
the whispers. "It's also like an Ethereal Shard, but instead of connecting two
living minds, this connects the wielder to the conscious of someone who died. In
this case... The Archaeon Palatine."

"Well he isn't here now," Ciena said, inching closer to the Codex. "I don't see the
harm in-"

"Remember how I killed your headmaster?" Thane interjected. "It's like that."

Ciena pulled her hand back and her lips made a thin line as if she couldn't tell
whether she was being cautioned or threatened.

"It's luring us in for a reason," Thane explained quickly. "It's practically

begging to be used."

"So..." Nahlia began again, "if we used it, could we speak with him?"

"I have no idea," he admitted. I've never used one before. As far as I know, no
living Aeon has. But I think it's safe to assume there's information here. And
whatever it is, Palatine's decedents were willing to start a war to get it."

"Several

wars," Nahlia murmured, and Thane realized she was right. This wasn't the first
time someone tried to find Whitecliff.

"Then we should put it back," Nahlia said, and she held up her set of necklaces.
"These belonged to my ancestors, the founders of this academy. They built the door
to keep the Codex safe. It stayed safe this long, and we're the only ones who have
the keys."

"Just one problem with that," Ciena interjected. "Whitecliff isn't hidden anymore.
And that door was built hundreds of years ago. It may have been secure then, but
they didn't account for those bloody Templars and their explosives."

"She's right," Thane said. "We can't leave this here. We need to take it with us.."

A tension filled the room as soon as the words left his mouth. It couldn't have
been more tangible if they'd all drawn their swords.

Nahlia's eyes narrowed as she glanced between Thane and the artifact. "Take it
where?"

"Good question," Elias said, crossing his arms. "I suppose you'd like to take it
back to your family, Spectre?"

"I didn't say that." Thane bit out each word as he spoke. "I only meant we needed
to keep it from whomever is looking for it."

"The Templars didn't know about this," Nahlia said "And neither did you. If that's
the case, then who did Clan Palatine send here to retrieve it?"

"He sent all of us," a deep voice echoed from the entrance of the chamber. Thane
spun around to see a tall, Valasian man whom he didn't recognize. He wore a dark
gray robe, with jet-black hair and a short-cropped beard.

"Who are you?" Thane demanded of the stranger.

Beside him, Nahlia let out a sharp breath and whispered, "Master Zidane."

The man called Zidane stepped into the room, as casually as if it were entering a
lecture hall. The crystals on the wall darkened, and he spoke, "In the final
hour... all must serve the one true emperor."

=================

46: The Masked Aeon

Impossible, Thane thought as the lanterns flickered and faded around him. He had
already killed Whitecliff's strongest Ethermancer.... Who in Aegon's name was this
man?

There wasn't time to ask. Thane turned around and snatched the Codex from the
pedestal, consequences be damned. He put some distance between himself and the
stranger, all the while reaching out with his mind to siphon his own energy from
the crystals. The tips of his fingers grew warmer as the flames threatened to
burst.

"Ah," Zidane said, inclining his head in the darkness. "The son of Thanatos
Spectre. There's no need for all that. We're on the same side-you and I."

Nahlia turned and shot him an accusatory glance. The Raiders drew their swords of
course, although their allegiance seemed unclear now, even to them.

"I don't serve Palatine," Thane said. He looked purposely into each of their eyes,
ending on Zidane. "I take it this is all your doing then? You led the Templars
here-all for this?"

"The Codex is none of your concern," Zidane said. His voice was low and sudden,
like a nod of distant thunder. "You've done your job, the Templars have done
theirs, now it's time that I do mine."

"So you are the traitor," Ciena sneered. She raised her sword, and her brother
followed suit. "You're the one who gave them the map?"

"Stand aside," Zidane told them. "As I said, I only came for the Codex. I give you
my word, no one will be harmed."

"Today, perhaps." Thane gestured to the mural on the wall and the chaos it
depicted. "But I don't think your emperor makes the same promises."
Zidane

ignored him as he continued toward the center of the chamber. Each of them stepped
back, save for Nahlia.

"People have already died because of you," she said. "Was this really worth
starting a war over?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Zidane said. "War can serve so many other purposes."

"Nothing good comes from war," she retorted. "It only destroys."

"Wrong," he shot back. "War brings out the true nature of our world, with all the
politics and rules and religions cast away and the currents of the Ethereal laid
bare. It's that conflict that gives us strength. The strength we're meant to have."

Zidane continued to make his way around the coffin, speaking with slow precision.
"Don't tell me you haven't felt it, daughter of Lyanna Trevelyan. If you listen,
you can feel the echo of the minds of these Aeons as they fight for survival here
in Whitecliff. Their anger... their fear... their desperation. It is life itself.
The conflict makes us stronger, just as you've grown stronger these past few
weeks."

When she didn't reply, Zidane fixed her with a knowing gaze. "All your life, you've
longed for purpose and fulfillment, and now you have it. Under the Antarians, our
lives were simple, static things. Our race became complacent over the centuries
until we were but shadows of our former selves. But when Palatine arrives from the
East, we'll create a new empire, far greater than the Antarians before us."

He turned to Thane again. "And your family will be rewarded for the part you
played."

Thane looked down at the dark artifact he held with all its intricate patterns

and designs-black against black. Finally, he shook his head as if to clear it from
Zidane's mad ramblings. "My father would never serve a foreign ruler. He would
never get involved in a plot like this."

"Your father has already sworn allegiance to Emperor Palatine," Zidane said with a
sort of smug satisfaction. "Why do you think he sent you here to Whitecliff? Why do
you think Lady Trevelyan gave you that necklace all those years ago?"

"No... no, he wouldn't do that."

"Dragonshard was nearly destroyed during the Purge," Zidane noted. "Your family,
your culture-centuries of history and knowledge. Your father did what he had to in
order to protect it. He chose to serve, and in return, he will rule all of
Valaridor, and you will be his heir."

Thane's eyes darted toward Nahlia, and she shook her head at him, her dark eyes
serious. She was right, just as the Raiders were right about his family. They would
crush anyone to achieve their goals. Kira... the innocents who died at Whitecliff.
It was all part of some larger power struggle. But no... no longer. He couldn't
bring back Kira or those who had fallen in here, but he could still move forward.
He could still do the right thing.

Thane's face hardened, and he dropped the Codex into his cloak pocket. "This won't
be going to your master."
"Indeed?" Zidane's smile was as sharp as serrated steel. "And how do you purpose to
keep it from me?"

"Just turn around and leave," Thane said. "And I give you my word, you won't be
harmed"

The other man let out a long sigh. "Very well then..."

He raised a hand as if to strike,

but Thane was quicker; he hurled several fiery projectiles at Zidane without
warning. One by one they bathed the room in orange light, closing the short
distance between them.

Zidane waved his hand to deflect the attack, then he countered with a flurry of his
own. Faster and brighter than anything Thane had ever seen in the physical world.

He ran and ducked behind a fallen stone pillar as Zidane's projectiles tore through
the surrounding chamber, sending blasts of dust and debris in every direction

"You think you're a skilled Ethermancer because you killed Alveron?" Zidane's voice
echoed from across the room "Alveron was no Ethermancer. The old fool spent time in
the Ethereal, to be sure. But he didn't have the willpower to light a candle, much
less... destroy a city."

"You..." Thane rose from his hiding spot to see ZIdane standing there.

He smiled again. "This isn't the first war we've started."

Thane surpassed a shutter as the realization sunk in. I killed the wrong man. The
real masked Aeon stood before him now, more cunning and more dangerous than he'd
imagined. But there was no turning back now... he had to fight.

He launched another projectile which Zidane quickly deflected and countered. Thane
was ready for the counterattack this time. While the flames of his opponent flew as
fast as thought, he still deflected them into a stone pillar, sending it crumbling.

As the two continued their exchange, Thane glimpsed the Raider twins circling
Zidane from behind, their presence masked by clouds of dust and debris.

Perfect. All he had

to do now was keep him distracted long enough for them to end this.

Zidane launched a series of attacks from above, and they fell upon him a volley of
flaming arrows. Thane ran and took cover behind one of the taller statues. He
emerged just in time to see the Raider twins being thrown hard against a wall with
a burst of kinetic energy.

"Enough of this," Zidane said. Thane tried to attack him again, but found his body
frozen in place, a chill running through him.

Zidane sent a single, fiery attack and it took hard him in the chest. Waves of
intense heat consumed him as he fell back into darkness.

***

Nahlia hid behind a stone pillar, watching from a distance as the Chronicler's
flames tore through Thane. His body flew backwards several feet, landing
unconscious in a pile of stone rubble.

Go Nahlia, she told herself. You won't get another chance.

She ran over to where Thane lay and pulled the Codex from his cloak.

When Zidane turned to see her holding it, he regarded her with a curious glance.
"And you, daughter of Lyanna Trevelyan; I offer you the same choice. Will you
resist, or will you serve?"

There was a pause as she groped for something to say. Anything to get him talking
again. "You voted to execute me," she stammered. "You knew Thane killed Alveron...
but you blamed me anyway."

He waved a dismissive hand. "I needed a scapegoat for Alveron's death. You were
never in any real danger. I made sure of that."

Nahlia hesitated, pulling out one of the two necklaces that she'd removed from the
door. As the

Chronicler approached her, she wrapped its silver chain around the dark artifact,
hoping against hope that this would work.

"Now give it to me," Zidane said, now standing before her. "I have no desire to
hurt you."

"At least tell me what it is first. Tell me why it was worth betraying Whitecliff."

"It is knowledge from the past, nothing more."

Nahlia sighed and gave him the Codex with Thane's necklace wrapped around it.

She gripped her own necklace then, and she felt Zidane's consciousness connect to
hers between the two Shards. Not wasting any time, she closed her eyes and focused
on the Ethereal, pulling Zidane with her just as she had done with Marwyn. Just as
Thane had done with Alveron.

For one hopeful, moment, it seemed to be working as the Chronicler fell to his
knees. Nahlia continued to concentrate, focusing on her breath and the current of
thought, following it to its source as quickly as she dared.

But then she felt a barrier there, as if her mind were colliding with a stone wall.

"Clever," Zidane said through several deep breaths.

She opened her eyes to see him on his feet again, unwrapping the silver chain and
casting it aside. "I admire your courage, but you're not strong enough to-"

He was interrupted by Ciena Raider, and he jumped back, just missing her sword by
mere inches. Zidane hit her with another kinetic blast, sending her flying back
against the wall. Just then, Elias drove his own sword into Zidane's back, and the
blade emerged from his chest.

Nahlia fell to her knees, breathing a weary sigh of relief. When she looked to the
entrance of the chamber, she saw two figures standing there, golden-haired and
clothed in crimson.
"Father!" Ciena said.

Lindilus Raider stepped inside the room, sheathing his sword. His wife followed
close behind, with a dozen soldiers in tow.

"It is over," he told them. "The Templars have retreated."

=================

47: The Wars to Come

A/N: Second to last chapter!

"This way," the boy hollered as he led Aaron Cole thorough the crowded streets of
Dreshtae's harbor. Only two days had passed since he became Knight Commander, and
already he had important people summoning him to secret meetings.

"Where are we going anyway?" Cole asked. "Some dark alley? A warehouse, maybe?"

When the boy didn't reply, Cole wondered if he should have brought more guards
along. But then... what good would guards do him, anyway? He didn't trust the
Templars anymore than these strangers.

Cole adjusted his hood, listening to the nightly riot of the taverns and brothels
as he walked. Cheering, dancing, breaking bottles and cackling laughter. The smell
of ale and tobacco hung heavy in the night air.

He followed his guide into one of the more expensive-looking inns, not so different
from the one he had left behind in Northshire. The lamplight shined golden from the
doorway, pouring out into the snow-covered street.

The heat of the common room was a welcome relief as they made their way through the
crowd and up a creaking, wooden staircase. They climbed several flights to the top
level, stopping at a door with two guards posted on either side.

These are no thugs, Cole noted. While the two men may have attempted to pass as
common mercenaries, they were also clean shaven with impeccable posture. Their
boots were too clean for true northerners, their armor and cloaks too light.

"Just you," one of the guards snapped, pointing a gloved finger at him. He had a
western accent-

another dead giveaway.

Cole shrugged and nodded to his own men. If they were going to kill him, they
wouldn't have brought him to an expensive inn to do it. Not when the street below
would have sufficed.

The guard knocked thrice on the wooden door, and it swung open on creaking hinges.
Cole entered to find several more guards inside, and a gray-haired figure standing
against the window.

"Knight Commander Cole." The man turned around to face him. Despite his simple
clothing, he had a fine presence and a deep, resonate voice. The sort you only
found in military commanders turned politician. "Do you know who I am?"

Cole studied him for a few heartbeats longer. "Chancellor Brighton..."

Of course, he had never seen the Republic's leader before. Last time Cole was in
the capital, Emperor Antares had ruled. But then... "chancellor" was just a fancy
word for "emperor" these days. All part of the story the humans told themselves so
they could sleep at night. As if they'd made a difference.... as if democracies had
fewer wars than empires.

As Knight Commander, he probably should have saluted, but the deserter's life had
left him rusty. Instead, he simply said, "You're a long way from home."

"Desperate circumstances..." The other man strode over to a small table and poured
two glasses of brown liquid from a crystal decanter.

Cole grimaced. "What might those be? Last I heard, you were doing well enough for
yourself."

The Chancellor lowered himself into a leather armchair near the hearth and gestured
for Cole to do the same. "I'm here because Saul Mason made a mistake attacking
Whitecliff."

Yeah,

Cole wanted to say. Why do you think I killed him? But he held his tongue this
time. "Are you not the one who gave the order?"

He shook his head, taking a small drink. "I take full responsibility for what
happened, but your predecessor acted on his own accord. It was Lord Spectre of
Dragonshard who directed the Templars toward Whitecliff. We didn't understand why
at the time..."

Cole remained silent and raised his own glass to his lips, tasting faint notes of
caramel and vanilla.

The other man took a deep breath."What I'm about to tell you, only a handful of
people in Ascalon know. Understand that I expect you to keep it that way."

Cole could practically always feel the guards grow tense behind him. "Something
tells me I don't have a choice."

The Chancellor set down a piece of parchment on the table between them. "Emperor
Palatine set sail less than a week ago. He's bringing five hundred ships toward the
southern coast of Valaridor."

"Why would he do that?" Cole squinted, struggling to read the small script in the
dim hearth light. "Palatine's been hiding in the East for years." He doesn't have
the men to take Valaridor. He never has, and he's too smart to risk it."

"Things are different now," the Chancellor said. "Valaridor used to be unified.
Seven city-states and one military force. Now-despite what anyone says-it's in
chaos."

No argument there.

"And this report came from our spies in Dragonshard," he continued. "Palatine has
already allied himself with them. We need to make peace with the other Aeon clans.
If we don't, Palatine and Spectre are going

to overwhelm us all."

Cole smirked, though he hid it quickly behind his glass.

"If you have something to say, Knight Commander, speak freely."

"Very well." He took his glass and casually chucked it into the hearth. There was a
sharp explosion of glass as the flames smoldered, then rose again. "There's your
peace, Chancellor. If you expected anything less, you shouldn't have let your mad
dog attack Whitecliff."

"You're right," he said with a sigh. "You saw that twenty years ago when no one
else did. That's why I'm willing to pardon you of those crimes, and let you hold
your title."

I don't want the damned title, Cole thought. Truth be told, he only cared about
finding Nahlia right now. But it was too late for that now. He had already deserted
once; he wouldn't get a second chance. "What are you proposing?"

"We give the Aeons back their lands. Raidenwood... Vauldenport... Tregarde. With
the realm unified, we can stand strong against this invasion."

"You think it will be that easy?" Cole retorted. "What happened twenty years ago
wasn't some border dispute. It was genocide. It's not as simple as asking for
forgiveness."

"Saul Mason and his other officers are dead," The Chancellor offered. "The Aeons
have had their justice. And when Palatine arrives, they'll have to choose a side."

Cole narrowed his eyes. "If it's truly peace that you're looking for, then what do
you want with me?"

"I need a negotiator. That, and someone to lead the Templars against Palatine if it
comes to that."

Cole snorted. "There must be a thousand people back in Ascalon more qualified for
that job. Why come all the way out here?"

The Chancellor nodded as if expecting the question. "There's something else you
need to know."

Of course there is. He turned to regard the other man.

He laid a second piece of parchment down on the table between them. "Lord Spectre
and Emperor Palatine have... another ally. Someone with whom I believe you're
already well acquainted..."

=================

48: A Chance for Redemption

A/N: Final chapter, hope everyone likes it! There will be a sequel (and hopefully a
full trilogy) eventually, but not until I can do a second draft of this book.
Enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)

Dusk had almost passed, and darkness crept over the Isle of Evervault. Snow
crunched beneath Nahlia's boots as she made her way through the courtyard of an
ancient stone fortress, big enough to hold all two hundred Aeon refugees.

The ruin's pale gray stones were gentled by the evening sun, and the tents cast
long, sharp shadows across the clearing. Campfires crackled and spat, and the low
roar of conversation echoed all around her. They were safe here, but there was no
laughter or song that night. Not after everything they had lost.

Nahlia surveyed scene, and the familiar faces she'd come to know over the past
month. Elias, Ciena, and the rest of Wolfe Clan made casual conversation around the
fire, speaking of everything other than war. The familiar scents of woodsmoke, pine
needles and spiced sausage wafted through the night air, mixing with the salty wind
of the Frozen Sea.

She continued along the top of a snowy ridge, stopping when she finally reached the
command tent that overlooked the rest of the camp. The front flap opened, And
Cassandra and Lindilus Raider stepped out, each of them heading in a separate
direction.

"Lady Raider!" Nahlia called out, falling into step beside her.

"Yes Nahlia, what is it?" The older women made no effort to slow her pace.

"Any news of my father?"

"He's alive."

"Anything else?" She had to

jog to keep up. "Where is he? Is he safe?"

Lady Raider stopped, taking a sharp breath and turning to face her. "Let me put
this bluntly for you, Nahlia: I'm not sharing classified information with a former
spy."

The scorn in the Seeker's voice nearly made her cringe, but for everything she had
been through. "Please," she said. "He's the only family I have. I just-"

"Which is why I gave you the courtesy of telling you he's alive," she interjected,
her voice rich and calm as ever. "But consider all the families who died at
Whitecliff. Twenty-three students, ten instructors, and three council members.
Think of how many you could have saved, had you come forward sooner."

Nahlia looked down at her feet, forcing herself to bite back a dozen retorts and
apologizes. She knew in her heart that none of them would make a difference now.

"Elias and Ciena told me you helped him," she continued. "And Master Marwyn has
vouched for you as well. If not for them, you'd be sitting with your friend, Thane
Spectre."

"I understand," Nahlia said after a short pause. And when nothing else was
forthcoming, she asked, "What's going to happen to him?"

"Spectre?" She gave an exasperated sigh. "I don't expect him to be leaving this
island alive. He's certainly too dangerous to keep as a hostage. The Templars
discovered that the hard way."

And with that, Lady Raider turned to leave, her crimson cloak and blonde hair
billowing in the wind behind her. Her message was clear: The Aeons of Whitecliff
had no place for her here. She was an outsider, just as she had been in Northshire.
She

had learned so much this past month, and yet nothing had changed.

Not unless she took action.

Nahlia returned to her tent and began filling a travelsack, not so different from
the one who had when she left Northshire. She packed it with rations of food,
medical supplies, flint and tinder, and a spare change of clothing.

Satisfied that she had everything she needed, she crept under a stone archway into
a darker, more restricted section of the encampment. It was chillier here, away
from the campfires and the torches.

It didn't take her long to find the tent she was searching for. Two Raider men
stood guarding the front, but Nahlia snuck around the back, pulling a dagger from
beneath her cloak and cutting through the thick canvas material.

Inside, she found Thane chained to the center support. He sat upright but looked
only half-alive, his wounds still open from where Zidane had burned him.

Hadn't they given him medical attention?

No... of course not. With so many others wounded in the camp, they wouldn't have
the resources or manpower to spare on prisoners. Especially not for one they
intended to execute anyway.

She stepped around the wooden pillar and whispered, "Thane?"

His eyes remained shut, visible by only a thin sliver of sunlight creeping in
through the tent's opening. She knelt in the snow in front of him and was relieved
to find him still breathing.

Nahlia raised a waterskin to his mouth. He drank, but even that seemed to be a
struggle. She sat it down and pressed both hands to his exposed wound, healing it
as best

she could.

Thane's opened his eyes wider and he took several deep breaths. "So..." he began.
"The rumors about you... they're true."

Nahlia ignored him so as not to break her concentration. A few moments passed, and
the blood sealed itself back inside the skin. The infection subsided, and even the
blisters faded.

"You said my father was taking control of the Templar Order... If he's still alive,
does that mean he succeeded?"

"It would seem so," Thane murmured. "The Raiders didn't have the men to force the
Templars out on their own. Not unless the Knight Commander ordered a retreat."

Nahlia nodded, realization settling into her. "I'm not going to see him again, am
I?"

"It'd be difficult," Thane agreed. "But you should know he did this to protect you.
And to redeem himself for what he did before."

"I know..." The tent grew darker as the sun continued to set outside. "And what
about us? Are we going to redeem ourselves for what we did?"

"You might." Thane shrugged, giving his chains a shake. "But something tells me I
won't get the chance."

"And what if you did? What if we could leave this place?"

"Let them do what they want with me. I deserve it." His face was unreadable in the
near-darkness, but she could hear the grief and the pain in his voice.

"You've made mistakes," she said. "So have I. But we can still find a way to redeem
ourselves. Whether or not we deserve that isn't for us to decide, or the Raiders,
or the White Council."

They sat in silence for another long moment, and then a question rose up inside
her. Something that had bothered

her ever since their confrontation in the tomb two days ago.

Nahlia reached inside her cloak and pulled out one of the two moon-shaped
necklaces. "Before Zidane died... he said that Lyanna Trevelyan gave this to you?"

"I didn't know it was Lyanna Trevelyan at the time." Thane looked up as if to take
in the full sight of her. "But I suppose there is a family resemblance."

"And when did this happen? My mother was killed ten years ago." She tightened her
grip around the silver chain, causing it to shake slightly. "She was wearing this
the night she died."

For a long moment, all she heard was the howl of the wind outside the tent as Thane
remained still and silent.

Nahlia let out a sharp breath. "After everything you put me through this past
month, you owe me an explanation. Tell me-where did you get this?"

"Zidane was wrong about one thing," Thane finally said. "Your mother didn't give me
that necklace 'many years ago'. It was twelve months and seventeen days ago... just
before I left to become a Templar hostage."

Another pause followed as Nahlia wrestled with the absurdity of his words and what
they implied.

Thane looked up and met her eyes again. "Lyanna Trevelyan is alive. She's a member
of my father's court in Dragonshard."

For a moment, the space around them seemed to hold its breath, and a chill darted
through her. "Don't you dare lie to me," Nahlia said, her whisper growing harsher.
"Not about this."

"I haven't lied to you once," Thane retorted. "I made you one promise when this
started; I told you I would free your father

from Kyroth. Have I not kept my word?"

"But what you're saying now is impossible. I was there when she died."

"I swear to you, Lyanna Trevelyan gave me that necklace the day I left Dragonshard.
She told me I could use it to communicate with you-her daughter. That was the
reason I chose you to infiltrate Whitecliff."

Nahlia shook her head. "You're lying. You have to be. I watched her get stabbed by
Saul Mason. I saw her body laying lifeless in the grass."

"I believe you... But I've also heard the way they whisper about you throughout the
camp. The way they talk-you'd think that Trelu herself were here among us. Is it
true that you brought Elias and Ciena Raider back from the dead?"

"Yes." She paused, breathing deeply. "Are you saying someone did that to my
mother?"

"No. Not someone. I'm saying that you did."

Nahlia opened her mouth to protest, but Thane spoke first. "You did it with the
Raiders; is it so crazy to think you might have done it once before, ten years
ago?"

"Of course it's crazy!"

"Tell me," Thane said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "What did you do the
night your mother died?"

"Nothing," she shot back. "My father carried me and we ran for miles. We left her
there with the Templars."

"And after that?"

She paused, remembering how she had spent the entire night praying to Aegon to
bring her mother back. It had felt the same as when she healed Elias and Ciena. An
unparalleled surge of power and emotion. She hadn't realized it at the time, but...

Nahlia shook head again as if to clear it. "I was a child

then. I didn't know anything about Ethermancy. Even now, I still barely know what
I'm doing."

"That's not how it works," Thane said. "Practice leads to mastery, but it's not the
only path. You've read Aeonica. You've heard the stories of children who had more
faith than their masters. How they performed feats the masters couldn't. And Zidane
was right We've lived in peace for a millennium, but now war is changing our race.
We're becoming stronger, and this is only the beginning."

"If what you're saying is true, then why didn't she come looking for me?" Nahlia
held up the necklace again. "Why didn't she contact me?"

"I don't know," Thane admitted. "I don't know anything about the Codex, or their
alliance with Palatine. But I know that she's alive."
Nahlia nodded, breathing deeply and pushing aside her doubt. "Fine. Then take me
there."

"What?"

"To Dragonshard. If you're telling the truth, then I want to see her for myself. I
want us to stop this war like we planned."

Thane inclined his head. "I take it you can get me out of here?"

She nodded again, kneeling down in front of him. "I can get us off this island, but
you have to take it from there. I've never been south... I don't know the way."

"Alright," Thane said.

"Swear it to me." She reached out and grabbed his forearm.

A few heartbeats passed, then Thane returned her grasp, meeting her eyes. "I, Thane
Spectre, swear to you by fire and blood, that I will lead you to Dragonshard. I
swear in Aegon's name that I will protect you along the way. Or die trying."

And so Nahlia freed him from his chains and the two of them crept down the hillside
toward the coast. Elias Raider was waiting for them there with a boat, just as he'd
promised her. They took it, sailing out over the waves and into the blue darkness.

Nahlia knew they would be hunted. Thousands of Templars and humans stood between
them and their destination. And a few hours from now, the Raiders would discover
they were gone and send an army of spies, soldiers, and trained Aeon warriors to
find them

But still, they sailed. They sailed for Dragonshard. Toward answers and
uncertainty, and a chance for redemption.