Night descended, soothing the warm, windless air of Indaemetrua. The chaotic mélange of bold, vibrant shades tinctured the firmament faded slow into a gaping, starless darkness devouring the world, and the sprawling city between the mountains. Though its efforts halted once all the edifices alighted at once, warm glows blazed away the encroaching darkness. It all seemed peaceful to Terrianis as he stood over the flat roof of the Radiant Keep’s wall.

  From up there, he watched the whole process, felt the silent roar emanating from the deep bowels of the accursed mountain. “I pray for your success Brother, and dear Chosen.” He whispered into the wind, his prismatic gaze surveyed the far-off capital of the Cordivil Province, a city built into the greatest spire reaching towards the infinite sky. Dim clouds gathered about its black and golden walls, the plateau sized terraces lingering over the patches of low lands where the outskirts sprawled, protected by titanic walls lengthened over by the shadow of Dusk.

  The blood sucking strigois of the Extinguisher of Bloodlines stalked the streets within the tower, and the outskirts, hunting and growing the number of their own legions. Terrianis knew both from watching and by the letters of his once dearest child. Quarrianis beseeched him a hundred times already, each of his subsequent letters penned with increasing haste detailing the struggles of his uncle and the young chosen who refuses to part from the city. It brought relief upon Terrianis who feared, believed Augermil would set sail from one doomed city to another. To put his task of delivering the Chosen before the safety of their domains.

  They desired… wanted the two remaining chosen to witness them not in their weakest hours. So he lessened his replies, wrote frugal commands, issued only a few of their children to aid the city, enveloped in the schemes of the Night.

  “It shall be a good trial for all of them.” He broke the silence, whirled and stepped onto the narrow path between the statues of his lost children who achieved great things across Vhalleryon, but failed in returning home, to take part in the construction of Their dream. Watching their hewn serenity, his heart mellowed towards Quarrianis, whom after all-embracing observation, realized acted upon envy and bitterness, for being abandoned. In the future, before his passing, he vowed to rectify this blunder.

  Before that though, the hour lingered whence Quarrianis must prove his worth. The though came with a grimace, one which adorned not his flawlessly chiseled visage in centuries.

  A gentle breeze graced his long, smoothly flowing dark hair and he allowed the unseen element to lift a few of his tresses, to caress his chiseled face as his walked the road, surveying the lifelike statues and recalling each of their names, the days they departed and the news of their demise eased by their achievements, accomplishments in the twilight of their lives. One who he could not recall in an instant picked Terrianis’s interest not far from the open corridors compartmentalizing the arboretum where the Garden of the Dreamers took up a sizable parcel.

  He recognized not the figure whose robes were perfectly recreated and the paint evoking the perfect texture and softness of the opulent fabric. A voluminous hood inclined over their head, and even from front where Terrianis noticed the stolas draping each side of his breast, a darkness coiled within the hood’s depths, as though it led somewhere deeper than it should. The pleasantly warm solstice wind slowly faded from the world as he stood before the ominous statue.

  The flick of their eyes downward carried no urgency as Terrianis took in the ecclesial robe’s smooth folds, he theorized belonged to a vagrant vicar of Dhaekenia at first. Until realization struck, remembering the whispers of a dark aetherkiin as he gazed with horror at the two long hands with fingers assorted unevenly on each. Seven on the left, six on the right each, spewing shadows wounding reality.

  Mana flared across his whole being, forming into inscriptions of utter destruction to the ancient, enigmatic folk before him, but the hands touched his cheeks, the finger trailed deep into his hair and he saw the dark hood looming over him within the Throne Room.

  Its darkness spread and enveloped the room about Terrianis, and he felt a strange weightlessness as the vortex swallowed him whole, hearing the whisper of the youngest Oracle. The words filled them with utter terror, along with the thousand voices which rose together, weaving into a single, monstrous cry that tore at the edges of his sanity, his crimson blood with a prismatic iridescence dribbled down his silky-smooth skin, crawled out from his ears and bloodshot eyes. He felt only their coldness in the utter, bottomless darkness where horrid shapes fluttered about him like ravenous vultures awaiting their feast on the dead littering the smoking battlefield.

  “Help me Brother!” He yelled, his voice no longer strong, tears welled in the upward slanting corners of his eyes, as fear took hold over his whole being, and they became the weakest in eons. A hare watching in terror as the thick drool, stare at the sharpness of pointing teeth arraying the maw of the looming, ravenous wolf.

  Sprawled on the floor, Terrianis stared for hours at the empty firmament, strange shapes swam the black skies, humming strange tones then he arose as the scenery shifted. Momentary joy rippled across their being, a weightlessness they felt oh so long ago hit them like a wave, flung across time and space. No longer, he felt the cold marble of the throne room beneath his clammy back, his sprawling hair. Though still, another familiar scenery took its place.

  Before him the corridor of the Household Tower stretched far, with the turns highlighted by the filtering daylight. Ominous reds, shady purples, sensuous pinks and soothing blues tinted the amber and golden blend of the Illius. And he knew which day it was, a day full of dread anticipation.

  Terrianis walked solemnly on the marble floor, tiles of white beneath his right sole, tiles of black framed in golden rims beneath his left. Above where soft shadows ruled unabated, his long line of ancestors stared down in their pigmented forms, bending with the soft curve of the arched ceiling. He felt all their glares upon his crown of hair, some with contempt, some with envy, others with pride knowing that their sacrifice to shed their once magnificently terrible forms were worth the price of feebleness, vulnerability part of being a mortal.

  Terrible forms which appeared along the walls, as the golden frames took the shapes of myriad different dragons, ranging from the pureblooded dragons of the House of Dawn, of the House of the Magnificence and Pride, the ethereal serpents of the Dreams whose astral mists spewing from their bodies was captured in gilded stone gleaming with the splendor of adamantine. And at the end, where Terrianis knew, he shall turn to face or abandon his destiny, gaunt dragons slithered along the frames of the arching windows, bathed in shadows whilst across them, their rivals bathed in the inflowing light.

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  Terrianis drew a deep breath, a frantic rhythm thudded beneath his sternum, loud and urgent, sweat dribbled down from his temples where his hair flown elegantly, parted by his uptilted long ears, and reaching not beyond his frail shoulders. Her mélange of calming, sweet lavender and spicy, zesty fresh ginger fragrance sinuously snuck through the interstices of her quarter’s room, forming unseen warm tendrils that wrought soothe and clarity to his mind. Tears filled his eyes. Tears of joy and sorrow as he wrapped his palms around the knob and flung the door open, knowing Umbreniel waited. Or at least a cruel phantom of her smiled at him, her dark lips gleaming against the light of dawn.

  It was a certainty that made the turn nearly impossible. Terrianis spent decades in self-imposed exile, brooding and recalling the softness of her hair always tumbling like an inky-black waterfall, tinged with hints of amethyst. Or her haunting eyes sunken deep within the pale sockets, always piercing through the bulwarks he erected before others. Or her laughter throwing his mind into a storm of pleasant chaos. Terrianis never hated it, there was peace and serenity in that chaos.

  Yet there she stood in her grim parlor, dressed for adventure with a black and purple velvet shirt stiffly hugging her honed, lithe form with its imposing, voluminous collars rolled down beneath her flowing dark waves, a black corset of some great beasts hide laced over it, absorbing the light upon its supple, buttery smooth surface whilst breeches and boots of the same fabric of Dusk enveloped her delicately toned legs.

  “Come brother. Glory awaits us in the sprawling streets, the looming plateaus and districts upon them.” Umbreniel lifted her slender arm and gestured Terrianis to take it. Like that day, no hesitation lingered with Terrianis, only the lull of their softness.

  He could speak no word, just took them and leapt with her out the window. Echoing the past. Once more, they fell together, she laughed, he screamed as the city approached in haste.

  Upon closing his eyes again, Umbreniel vanished, the warmth of her grip lingered for a few more seconds before it too dispersed with the approaching city below. Peace vanished, the serene silence died out in the stultifying scream of thousands below, where the brilliant marble of Luth-Astaril transformed into the bland lime and sandstone of Khadrath. He landed in the square, surrounded by citizens and warriors screaming in their scanty robes and armors, though no external wound appeared on them. But he knew what screamed through their contorting maws.

  “It is not the time to give in to fear brother.” Her voice sobered Terrianis.

  His gaze remained on a child bleeding from his eyes and mouth, whilst beneath his dusky skin, something stirred and moved beneath his flesh. Tendrils undulated beneath, wicked maws smiled through the ribs and joints, stretching the boy to reach several meters. Though it came forth not, as Augermil’s blade brought the comfort of death, cleaved the child in two from shoulder to waist. Nothing but innards and dark blood flooded forth upon the soft sand and stone. Yet peace settled in place of agony upon the innocent face.

  Yet the deafening screaming continued onwards, all around them with many of their brave legionaries tumbling, blood cascading from beneath their gilded helmets, and even the dragons above struggled approaching fast the earth, crumbling the highest edifices, spires rising above the great and gloom draped walls of Khadrath. Only a few managed back into the respite of the darkened skies, where the dancing flames glow reached not.

  He knew every second of his hesitation brought more agony to the poor folk betrayed by their own loaf-giver, Terrianis could not muster his will, not manifest the grand spell he haughtily flaunted for learning. He could not be like their grandfather, the great Anessarion who devastated cities infected by the anathema of Twilight, Chaos or of the Dreams, and neither was he like their steadfast father, Primuinis who sold the future of millions or even billions to gain the power to end Twilight itself. At least he belied himself, he was different, and believed Aurelithae and her siblings were proof of that. But not in the past, as Umbrenial’s cold touch soothed his fears and looking into her dark violet eyes, their shrieks ceased as flames of the Dawn burned them from within. Shrieks filled with hatred.

  Terrianis felt each life extinguish in a blink of an eye, whilst their hatred remained towards the invaders, towards him who marched ahead the legions of executioners. Yet he felt no genuine guilt at present or past, only that they knew were forced by a lingering Shadow. On that day, he felt exhilaration, wonder as the darkness retreated and for a moment, the light of day triumphed over the darkness reigning over the far-south of Vhalleryon.

  “Is that all brother? A spell to decimate innocents, who gave their bodies, their life to stop the doom you shall bring upon all.” His eyes sprung upon and gazed at hers, yet he knew it belonged not to the phantasmal manifestation of her. Still the same scent which permeated the corridor slithered into his flaring nostrils.

  “A spell which we have no doubt would decimate you too, wicked beast hiding in the shadows of its master!” Terrianis growled, pushed away the chuckling imitator.

  “Many made such promises to me throughout the long eons. Do you truly believe it my dear friend?” Her smile stretched beyond mortal confines, the soft cheeks parted open not like torn flesh, but like cut textile or aged parchment revealing a light dim, yet its color indiscernible. A light, a color that seeped devoured all seen and unseen.

  “Then I shall be the first to banish into whatever realm spawned you. There your lies shall fall on deafened ears, and the work of eons shall amount to the nothing you rule.” She chuckled at his cold words as he triumphed over terror, bringing peace upon their mind at last. They knew as the light of Dawn shines upon their Empire of Eons, there will always be hope for triumph over any evil threatening their dreams and future. “Now bring me back to reality, and face me or flee back to your master.”

  Droning chuckle reverberated from her dark, lips as the pale, supple flesh tore wider. Her skin crawling smile remained as She leaned closer to his ears and whispered. “I truly have chosen right my Elhyrissiar. Remain defiant after the final hour, until the third closest to your heart plunges their gifted blade into your heart. Once your flesh and heart taste the pain of betrayal, treachery, and your eyes open to the truth we forged together, I shall gift the eternity you oh so desire.”

  Terrianis could not help but let out a maddened chuckle at the words. “Begone foul beast back into the astral gulfs that spawned you. No more shall I be a prisoner again. Eternity I shall grab myself, claim by my own will, and shatter with it the belied dreams you wish to force upon all of us. Begone, or follow the example of your oh so magnificent slave, be slain by the hands of the chosen, buried in the hallowed grounds of the eight fools.” Despite the words pouring forth, Terrianis felt terror tremble his soul and body laid upon the cold marble of his throne room.

  “You shall see my dear Elhyrissiar, when the Prophet of Dusk reveals himself before your flock, when he wounds your soul and body, you shall see beyond your own lies. Where peace awaits.” A thousand voices rippled through her lips, tore into his mind as he crumbled upon sand. Sand colder than the south’s, where high walls rounded around, atop, thousand eyes watched expectant of a dream in building, a dream coming true.