POV: Antares
My eyelids fluttered open, the lingering haze of sleep and the heavy, sweet scent of spent passion clinging to me like a silken shroud. A heavy leg was draped over my waist, the skin smooth and radiating a furnace-like heat. Another arm, slender but corded with hidden strength, hooked around my neck, pulling me closer to a soft, yielding curve.
I stretched, a low groan rumbling in my chest, and the world around me stirred.
Zarah, her dark hair a wild tumble across the pillow on the soft bed, hummed, pressing her face into my shoulder. Solara, bright as the dawn itself even in slumber, shifted on my other side. Her bare back was a canvas of subtle muscle and shadow, her breathing deep and even. The air hung thick with the scent of the night, a primal musk mingled with the faint, sweet perfume the he could not recognize.
I ran a hand over Zarah's hip, the curve of her flesh familiar and grounding beneath my palm. Her eyes, the color of rich earth, slowly opened, meeting mine with a sleepy, guarded smile.
"Leaving already?" Her voice was a low murmur, thick with sleep, a question etched in the soft vulnerability of her gaze. She stretched, her lithe body arching like a jungle cat, muscles rippling beneath the skin. The sheet, a mere wisp of woven fungi silk, pooled around her waist, revealing the elegant line of her torso and the delicate curve of her breast.
I kissed her forehead, the taste of her still on my lips. "The duty calls my love."
My gaze drifted to Solara, who was now stirring. She pushed herself up on one elbow, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders like a molten waterfall. Her eyes, the color of polished gold, widened slightly as they landed on me.
"Duty," Solara murmured, her voice a counterpoint to Zarah's sharper, more alert, the voice of a Queen who managed armies. She sat up fully, her movements fluid with grace of a queen even in her nakedness. She reached for a goblet of water on the small stone table beside her, her fingers tracing the rim. "It always does."
"You both know that I have to do this." I began, pulling myself to a sitting position. The cool stone beneath me was a stark, grounding contrast to the warmth of their bodies. My own skin, tanned and etched with the faint white scars of the dungeon battles, felt alive, vibrating with the mana I had cycled during the night. "This peace.... I fear that a greater threat is coming and we need to prepare."
Zarah pushed herself up, her arm coming to rest on my shoulder, her fingers trailing down my bicep to trace the veins there. "We know." Her eyes held a flicker of the warrior she was, even now. "But another hour... another night would have cost nothing." A playful, desperate glint entered her gaze.
"Perhaps it would have cost us everything," I countered, a small, wry smile playing on my lips. I took Solara's offered goblet, the cool water a blessing on my parched throat. "The needs and safety of the tribe pass before our pleasure and the enemy of our tribe certainly won't wait for us to be ready."
I took a long drink, the water revitalizing, sharpening my senses. The fog of the night cleared, replaced by the sharp, crystalline focus of the predator.
Solara watched me, her expression unreadable for a moment, then a soft sigh escaped her. "You always do what you must. We love you for that." Her hand reached out, gently cupping my cheek. Her touch, usually so electric, held a bittersweet tenderness now. "The tribe relies on you, Antares."
"And I rely on you two," I said, looking from her face to Zarah's. "More than you know. Knowing you're here, safe, watching over the growth of the Red Sons... it makes this whole thing worth it."
My gaze swept over them one last time. In the soft light, they were living sculptures, the embodiment of the life I was going to the surface to protect. Zarah leaned in, her breath warm against my ear.
"Then make sure you return to us." Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "In one piece."
"I intend to," I affirmed, my voice dropping into the lower register of the King. "Always. This isn't a reckless charge, Zarah. This is a securing. A clearing. A promise."
Solara's hand slid from my face, moving down to my arm, her grip firm enough to bruise. "Tell us what you mean when you said they're threats looming over the tribe, Antares. tell us the whole thing."
I stood up, the air hitting my skin. I didn't look back at the bed, fixing my eyes on the armor standing in the corner. ". A couple of days ago, I sent Yanrid on the surface to scout out the area and to know what's happening on the surface, it appears that wild beast and some demonic beasts have risen from their winter slumber and they are hungry for blood."
"Let me guess, you are planning to lead the troops on the surface, aren't you " Solara stated. It wasn't a question.
Really my wife knows me well "The King must lead by example." I say with a smile.
"I can't cower in fear, not now" I replied. "Our people need to see strength. They need to know their King will stand and fight for them like my father, grandfather and the ones before them."
I walked to where my gear lay waiting.
It was a good set of armor, I wanted nothing fancy because on the battlefield I need something that would help me fight rather than standing out.
I donned it piece by piece. The greaves snapped onto my shins with a metallic hiss. The breastplate settled onto my chest with a comforting weight. Finally, the pauldrons locked onto my shoulders and of course a red velvet cape to complete the look.
I picked up Eos. The golden spear-sword hummed as my fingers wrapped around the hilt. It was hungry for battle.
When I turned back, Zarah and Solara were standing. They had wrapped themselves in silk robes, their expressions a mix of pride and concern.
"I will come back as soon as possible" I promised, my voice firm. "Or whenever the surface deems it so but I'll do my best to come for the birth of the red sons." I kissed them both goodbye then I turned and walked out the door.
I exited the palace with haste and directly flew where the army was waiting for me.
The place was alive with talks and laughter of soldiers and foragers.... that was until I landed and everyone became quiet as a grave.
Warriors and foragers who were in my way pressed themselves making way for me as I passed, their heads bowed to me to show respect. I moved with long, eating strides, my cape of red velvet flowing behind me.
My Generals stood front and center.
Yajin of the Ashfang clan, his face a map of scars, stood with his arms crossed. He didn't bow; he simply nodded, a predator acknowledging the alpha.
Velas of the Arcanis clan, looking rather rejuvenated was standing in his mage robe and tunic with his old staff that looked a stick he had randomly picked somewhere.
Yanrid, the commander and coordinator of the Foragers and scouts, stood tall, and his ever calm face seemed calmer than usual.
And Ian, my Prime Minister, stood to the side, holding a long pole wrapped in leather.
As I stepped onto the raised dais, the sound in the cavern died instantly. It wasn't a gradual quieting; it was a sudden, vacuum-like silence.
"Your majesty!" Velas and Yajin's voice boomed, breaking the silence.
I raised a hand. "At ease."
I looked out over them. These were veterans. They had survived the goblins, the demonic beast attacks, the winter, and even starvation. the finest the Ant tribe could provide.
"I see you," I said, my voice amplified by a subtle application of mana, reaching the furthest soldier. "I see the iron in your hands and the fire in your blood."
I beckoned to Ian. The old butler stepped forward, his hands trembling slightly as he unwrapped the leather covering the pole. With a snap of his wrists, he unfurled the cloth.
The Banner of the Crimson Ant unrolled. The red silk caught the mana-light, glowing like fresh blood. The black embroidery of the Great Ant snarled at the army, and the gold letters blazed: GLORY FOR THE ANT KINGS.
A gasp rippled through the ranks, followed by a low, guttural roar that started in the chests of the older veterans and spread to the young bloods. They recognized it. It was the symbol of their lost pride.
"This," I shouted over the rising noise, pointing Eos at the banner, "is not just a rag of silk! This is a memory! A memory of a time when the surface feared us! A time when the goblins hid in their holes and the beasts of the forest bowed their heads!"
I walked down the steps of the dais, moving through the parted ranks of the Iron-Mandible guard, until I stood directly in front of the massive, sealed blast doors that led to the surface.
"We have spent the winter hiding," I roared, my Red Knight Force flaring around me, casting long, violent shadows against the walls. "We have spent the winter surviving! But survival is for prey! Are we prey?"
"NO!" Four thousand voices screamed back, shaking dust from the ceiling.
"Are we rats to scurry in the dark?"
"NO!"
"Then today, we remind the sun who we are!" I turned to the great wheel that locked the gate.
"Open it!"
Yajin and four of his strongest lieutenants seized the wheel. With a groan of rusted metal and shifting gears, the mechanism turned. Chains the size of tree trunks rattled and hissed.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The massive stone doors began to part.
"Now our march starts." I say as I lead the way to the surface and the troops follow behind me.
A beam of light sliced into the cavern—blinding, white, watery sunlight. It cut through the gloom, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
I didn't hesitate. I stepped into the light.
My boots sank slightly into the slushy earth of the threshold. The wind whipped at my hair, cold enough to sting, but invigorating. I blinked against the glare, my compound vision adjusting rapidly.
We were at the foot of the withered ant tower. The world stretched out before us. To the south, the forest was a tapestry of dark greens and whites, the snow retreating to reveal the scarred earth. The trees were tall, ancient sentinels waking up from their winter sleep.
----------------------------------------------------
The transition from the depths to the daylight was not a simple stroll; it was a grueling, vertical pilgrimage. It took a full day of arduous marching for the legion to finally reach the surface. The path was a grueling ascent through the "Spiral of the Ancients," a massive, winding tunnel that had been cleared of debris and booby-traps only days prior.
Four thousand soldiers, along with supply wagons, moved in an orderly manner, it took one hour for everyone and everything to emerge from the tower.
The air grew thinner and colder with every passing hour, the warmth of their underground haven gave way to a crisp, biting chill, the new soldiers were weary, their lungs burning from the change in pressure, the veterans however were in perfect conditions since they had experienced this transition countless times.
Outside, the world was a masterpiece of raw, spring-time chaos. To the north, the massive peaks of the Godwall Mountains loomed like white-capped titans, their lower slopes shedding heavy blankets of grey slush that fed the roaring, muddy streams below.
The sky above the tower was a vast, bruised expanse of violet and pale gold. Great, wandering clouds some heavy with the last of the winter's sleet drifted across the horizon. For many of the younger soldiers, the sheer lack of a ceiling was terrifying; they kept their heads down, focusing on the mud beneath their boots to avoid the vertigo of the infinite sky.
The landscape immediately surrounding the tower was a desolate plateau of jagged rock and thawing mud. However, life was already fighting back. Vibrant, lime-green moss clung to the leeward side of the boulders, and hardy mountain shrubs were beginning to push through the retreating snow, their buds tight and protective against the morning frost.
Around the tower, A square wooden wall was raised with some unfinished watch towers at every corner the forward camp waited. It had been established by the advance teams who had spent the last day working in shifts to ensure the army had a place to rest the moment they emerged.
The place looked so close to the fortress than an encampment, the camp also served as a sprawling bridge between the subterranean world and the surface.
Rows of heavy, waterproof tents made from monster hide stood in rigid, military lines. Each tent was reinforced with timber supports to withstand the high mountain winds. The central command tent was a massive structure of crimson leather, flying the newly recovered banner of the Ant King.
Laborers moved with practiced efficiency, unloading crates of salted meat, barrels of chilled nectar, and bundles of the hardy Celcane.
At the corners of the encampment, massive stone braziers burned with blue-tinged mana-flame. The smoke rose in straight, thin pillars into the cold air, acting as beacons for the scouts still out in the field.
Also a perimeter of sharpened wooden stakes, lashed together with thick vines, cordoned off the camp. Elite Ashfang guards stood at regular intervals, their tower shields planted firmly in the mud as they squinted against the unfamiliar glare of the sun.
As the army reached the center of the camp, the day-long journey ended. The soldiers began to unbuckle their heavy travel packs, the metallic clatter filling the air. The scent of wood smoke and roasting food began to drift through the tents, providing a domestic comfort in the middle of the harsh, open wilderness.
The banner of the Crimson Ant snapped violently in the wind at the camp's center. Beneath it, the legion settled in. They were no longer a hidden secret of the deep; they were a visible, iron-clad presence on the face of the earth. The Withered Ant Tower, once a symbol of the might of the ant tribe, was now the heart of a living, breathing fortress.
Now the stage was set for Antares' conquest to begin.