Days before the devastation of the Northern Barony, the sun rose pale over the golden fields.
Illuminating the walls of Tiresias—
tall, intact… and on alert.
The knight did not slow his pace.
The guards opened a path without a word.
He entered.
The war room was not in discussion.
It was waiting.
Maps covered the central table, marked, repositioned so many times they were no longer clean. Wooden pieces indicated positions… or wagers.
No one touched them now.
Karna stood.
The black attire fitted to her body, as if the moment to act had passed beyond decision and into action. Her clear eyes were not on the map.
They were beyond it.
Heron remained on the opposite side.
Motionless.
The golden armor did not shine — it carried marks. Deep scratches, old impacts, stories that had not been erased. The lion symbol on his chest was not ornament.
It was a warning.
Arms crossed, weight distributed in a way far too relaxed for someone at rest.
Phoebe stood near the table.
The pale garments contrasted with the rest of the room, but drew no attention.
Her face partially covered by the ceremonial adornment concealed the eyes that did not see.
Even so—
she was the only one there who did not seem to need the map.
The knight stopped a few steps away.
There was no announcement.
There was no complete formality.
"My lady."
"Kaelir has returned."
No one moved.
But the air… changed.
Phoebe tilted her head slightly.
Heron uncrossed his arms.
Slowly.
He took a single step.
His hand touched the edge of the table.
Not for support.
For decision.
"Then it's going to begin."
It was not a question.
The knight maintained his posture.
"There is still no confirmation of enemy advancement within the territory."
Silence returned.
Heavier.
Heron closed his eyes for a brief moment.
When he opened them—
there was no longer doubt.
"Mobilize the eastern sector."
His voice did not rise.
But it left no room.
"I want archers on the walls before noon."
Phoebe did not leave her place.
She merely lifted her face slightly.
"It already began."
Silence reacted before the others.
"Brianna left..."
"...as soon as she obtained the information."
Heron let the air leave through his nose.
"Alone."
Not a question.
Karna stared at the map.
"She doesn't intend to buy time."
Heron adjusted his posture.
"Against an entire army."
Karna gave the smallest nod.
"It's the kind of madness she chooses."
Phoebe tilted her head slightly.
"It was not an isolated choice."
"If Typhon hadn't spoken…"
She paused for a moment.
"…we wouldn't know about the contingent stationed in the ruins of the western territory."
Her fingers moved slightly through the air.
As if touching something invisible.
"We would be surrounded before we could even react."
Karna's gaze did not change.
But her jaw tightened.
Heron crossed his arms again.
"And if the inspector had left the territory..."
"…we could have suffered an attack by nightfall."
Karna finally moved.
Slightly.
"Who would have imagined…"
Her voice came low.
"…that the Central Kingdom was involved with the count's research."
Phoebe answered without hesitation.
"The involvement no longer matters."
One step.
Almost imperceptible.
"The king has already decided."
"To bury any connection."
The air seemed to give a little.
Heron did not answer.
Karna closed her eyes for a brief instant.
When she opened them—
everything was sharper.
Phoebe continued:
"Now… all that remains is to survive."
The silence that followed was not doubt.
It was calculation.
Then she turned her face slightly.
"And that…"
"…depends on her."
Karna did not answer.
But her fingers pressed against the table.
The knight was still there.
Waiting.
The silence lasted one moment longer—
until Phoebe spoke.
"Then we will not waste time."
Her voice did not rise.
But it organized the room.
"Mobilize the knights on the walls…"
She turned her face slightly.
"reinforce with constant rotation."
"No one remains in the same position."
Heron was already moving before she finished.
No response.
No doubt.
Karna stepped away from the table.
Picked up the bow.
"I'm going to the walls."
Phoebe gave the slightest nod.
The knight received Phoebe's attention.
"Deliver the orders."
The knight nodded.
This time, he bowed completely.
"Yes, my lady."
He turned.
Left.
Heron had already departed the room.
Karna followed soon after.
Without looking back.
The door closed.
The sound echoed—
and died quickly.
Phoebe remained.
With two servants in the room, motionless, like pieces that did not know where they fit.
She did not turn toward them.
"If there is still something you wish to protect…"
"…you should start now."
Neither answered.
She lifted her face slightly.
As if listening to something approaching—
Brianna rode toward the west.
The wind lifted dust beneath the hooves.
The dark cloak rippled behind her—
like a moving shadow.
There was no haste in the gesture.
But there was direction.
The dark clothes molded for mobility fit her body without sound. The light armor did not restrict. The daggers at her belts were simple, precise.
Nothing about her suggested ostentation.
Only purpose.
She did not look back.
Not once.
The wind changed—subtle, too cold for that hour.
Brianna narrowed her eyes slightly.
An echo crossed her thoughts.
"the king is involved with a group…"
The name came soon after.
"Democrats."
Her jaw tightened.
Another fragment surfaced, clearer this time—
"every king has an owner."
The hooves lost rhythm.
Not by command.
The horse felt it first.
The smell arrived before anything else.
Dry. Ancient.
Death that had already passed… but not disappeared.
When the village emerged, there was no movement.
Broken houses leaned against one another. Burned structures still scarred the ground. The silence was not absence of life—
it was what was left behind.
Brianna did not stop.
But she did not advance as before either.
Her hand lowered toward the dagger.
Natural.
Prepared.
The horse let out a low, nervous neigh.
Ahead, motionless, someone waited for her.
Hooded.
Face completely concealed.
But not empty.
The presence pressed against the surrounding space, too dense, as if the air itself had been forced to yield to accommodate it.
It was not open threat.
It was worse.
It was something that endured.
Brianna did not draw her weapon.
Her eyes fixed on the figure.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
"Who are you?"
Her voice came out firm.
Controlled.
The figure tilted its head slightly.
The shadows beneath his feet pulsed—
slowly.
Like something alive breathing beneath the surface.
Brianna did not move.
But she noticed.
"Whirok… serves."
The response came calm.
Almost courteous.
"I'm looking for someone."
"Dark hair."
"Dark eyes."
Brianna tightened the reins and guided the horse one step back, controlled.
Her breathing shortened—
not from fear.
From calculation.
"I don't usually help hooded men in dead villages."
Whirok smiled faintly.
As if the answer had confirmed something.
"Curious."
A minimal tilt of the head.
"Telvaris said you would be more receptive."
He took one step forward.
Without sound.
"He also said that if anyone knew where to find him…"
"…it would be you."
Brianna was already moving before the sentence ended.
She jumped from the horse.
Put distance between them.
Adjusted the angle of her body.
Her hand brushed the dagger—
without drawing it.
Her eyes swept across the village.
Routes.
Height.
Cover.
"What did you do to him?"
Whirok tilted his head slightly.
As if the question were more interesting than offensive.
The air around them seemed to condense—
heavier.
Denser.
Brianna's breathing met resistance.
Subtle.
But present.
"Nothing permanent."
The answer came too easily.
"He was simply on the wrong path."
A small smile appeared beneath the hood.
"Now he no longer is."
The shadows beneath Whirok's feet pulsed again.
Brianna felt it.
The intent.
Cold.
Far too ancient.
For a brief instant—
something about it felt familiar.
Like staring at a door already seen once…
and never forgotten.
She did not retreat.
Her fingers pressed lightly against the dagger's hilt.
Instinct.
Whirok watched.
Every detail.
Every reaction.
Then he smiled.
More openly now.
As if he had finally found something interesting.
"Ah…"
A slight tilt of the head.
Almost satisfied.
"So you can feel it."
The silence between them seemed to weigh a little more.
"Then I don't need to pretend to be normal."
His eyes remained fixed on her.
"Whirok Tenebris."
Another small smile.
"One of the Princes of the Abyss."
He said it like someone mentioning an ancient title.
Without apparent weight.
Without need for emphasis.
Brianna did not answer immediately.
But her body reacted.
Her breathing stabilized.
Her eyes never left him.
He took the slightest step forward.
Enough to test the distance.
"Now that we've been properly introduced…"
A short pause.
"Where exactly do you believe…"
"…that I should begin searching…"
A slight gesture of the hand—
dismissing the rest.
"…for someone called Éreon?"
Brianna held his gaze.
Her fingers remained close to the dagger.
"And if I say I've never heard that name?"
He tilted his head slightly.
As if the answer did not matter.
"I would say you lie better than most."
"But not well enough."
The cold wind crossed through the ruined structures.
Brianna narrowed her eyes.
"And if I know?"
The question came calm.
"What happens afterward?"
His smile diminished.
"That depends far more on him than on me."
The shadows around Whirok vibrated—
like something breathing in the dark.
"In the Abyss…"
"…the weak do not remain."
His voice stayed calm.
Almost light.
"If they cannot sustain their own territory…"
A small smile appeared beneath the hood.
"…someone takes it."
Brianna remained motionless.
But her fingers pressed harder against the dagger.
Whirok noticed.
"It's simple, really."
Another step.
Unhurried.
"We grow by consuming what cannot survive."
Silence weighed between them.
Brianna felt it again.
That ancient presence.
Wrong.
Like looking at something that should have remained buried.
"So you want to devour him."
Whirok smiled.
This time, satisfied.
"Now we're finally having the right conversation."
Brianna held his gaze.
Calculating.
"You chose the wrong person..."
"…I have no interest in helping creatures of the Abyss."
He tilted his head slightly.
Then raised one hand.
The shadows at his feet reacted instantly—
twisting.
As if awaiting command.
"I think we've wasted enough cordiality."
Brianna did not answer.
Her body shifted its axis.
Her fingers slid to the dagger's hilt.
Ready to draw.
The wind crossed the ruins once more.
This time—
accompanied by the sound of hooves.
Fast.
Approaching.
Whirok looked away for the first time.
Only slightly.
Three knights emerged between the destroyed structures, advancing in a tight formation. Armor marked by dust and constant use.
Patrol.
Whirok watched in silence.
"Seems we have company."
When he turned his face back—
Brianna was no longer there.
The wind moved only the torn fabric of a shattered window.
Then, beneath the hood—
a single red eye glowed.
The smile returned slowly.
"Ah…"
Almost amused.
"So that's the game."
The horses slowed as they approached.
The men realized far too quickly that something was wrong with that place.
The one in the center spoke first.
"You."
His hand rested on the sword hilt.
"Identify yourself."
Whirok remained motionless.
The shadows beneath his feet moved slowly.
Like living smoke.
The knight on the right narrowed his eyes.
"Remove the hood."
No answer.
The third partially drew his blade.
Metal echoing through the dead silence of the ruins.
"I think he didn't hear you."
Whirok tilted his head.
Slowly.
Almost disappointed.
"Humans truly rely too much on warnings."
Then he turned.
Far too fast.
The shadow behind him exploded at the same instant.
Dark.
Violent.
The blades did not even finish leaving their sheaths.
The bodies fell from the horses almost together.
Heavy.
Dry.
The heads struck the ground one instant later.
Rolling through dust and blood.
The horses bolted in panic.
Silence returned immediately.
Whirok watched the bodies for a moment.
Expressionless.
Then he lifted his face toward the forest.
The red glow beneath the hood pulsed once more.
"You run well…"
His voice low.
Almost satisfied.
"That's going to make the next part more interesting."
The shadows at his feet moved.
Crawling slowly through the ruined remains.
Like creatures tracking a scent.
Whirok tilted his head slightly.
"Find her."
The shadows around him answered.
Spreading through the broken houses.
Disappearing toward the forest.
Whirok watched for a moment.
Then the shadows began pulling him downward.
Slowly.
Like a body sinking into dark water.
The cloak vanished first.
Then the arms.
Until only the red glow beneath the hood remained.
"Let's see how far you can run."
The eye disappeared soon after.
And silence took the ruins once again.