The Gnarled Roots of Osiris

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Brilliant orange poured out of the morning sun and across the horizon. The sky was blood red, and the furrowed clouds were every shade from palest pink to deep crimson. All of this over a Frach-carved city like Garah was a truly beautiful sight to behold.

Atlas watched the daybreak from his dormitory window, following the motions of a small flock of birds that danced upon the morning light. Every now and then they would climb steeply to meet the rising dome of the sun, before banking sharply and diving back towards the mountain ranges again. He wondered, as he watched the birds in motion, whether everything would be alright. Would they be able to find the Pillar? If they did, would he be able to bring it back without incident? What of the ragtag convict guard sent to escort him, would they earn their freedom?

He sighed, and turned away from the sill as the flock performed their coup de grace, an upward loop and a final dive into the treelines. In his room hung a set of clothes on a single iron hanger, and he walked across the cold floor towards them, curious. They had been there for a number of days but he hadn’t paid them any heed, until now.

The clothes and personal effects of General Atlas Revaan of His Majesty’s Royal Brigade.

It was a small and almost illegible label that was tied to a coat, but he recognised the handwriting as his own.

“Let’s see here…”

Article by article, Atlas lay the clothing down on the bed. The first piece was a standard black undershirt and pants, nothing particularly fancy. The next items were slightly more glitzy; a white greatcoat with silver runes embroidered into the sleeves, all the way up to the shoulders and along the back of the collar. A silver sash was tied around and through the belt loop on the coat, which had silver buttons dotted up the front. Finally, there seemed to be a pair of gloves; made from silk, coloured white and finished around the cuffs with a simple gold trim.

It was indeed an elegant uniform, although not a General’s standard uniform by any stretch. It was customised to very unique tastes, so much so that only a General with high standing would have the authority to wear such attire in the line of duty.

If I die, at least I’ll look good.

Atlas pulled on the pants and the undershirt, before threading his arms through the sleeves of the coat. He tied the sash around the waist, and laced his boots, before finally pulling on the gloves. He stood, dressed at last, in front of a body length mirror.

“Off to the ball?”

The voice startled him. Atlas spun to meet Captain Iziz standing in his doorway, one of the escorts for this mission. He was a short, built man with a gruff voice and a face full of stubble shadow who looked a little bit angry all the time, but Atlas had heard that he was a tenacious fighter and a loyal soldier, and that was all that mattered. He saluted accordingly, which Iziz reciprocated.

“If this is a ball, start me off on a slow song.”

“No time for that, General. It’s time to go.”

Atlas looked bemused. “So, I’m a General now? I’ll be happy to claim the pay if they are offering me a proper commission.”

Iziz turned his head a little. “I fought with you when we stopped the separatists at Gaus VII. To me, you’ll never be anything but the General, sir. I was caught on the wrong flank and trying to fight my way through to a key position when some little bugger tried to spay me with a spear. You took him clean out, sir. A second later and I would have been dead. I’ll make sure you are well looked after on this journey, sir.”

Atlas felt a little touched. He had no memory of Gaus VII, but the emotion that Iziz was trying to keep buried beneath his rough, manly exterior was enough to convince him he had made a difference to someone, even if it were only this one man. He hoped, for Telgradia’s sake, he could do even more for so many others.

“I do have one concern though, sir. Can you fight, sir?”

Iziz's question knocked him off guard. Atlas paused for a moment, looking down at the floor and stroking his chin.

What does he mean "Can I fight?" Of course I -

"It's just that, sir, with the greatest respect...you've been asleep for a long time. There are going to be a lot of men out there to protect you, but between the convict guard and the people responsible for the theft of the Pillar we have the potential for a nightmare if it all goes wrong. We don't know what's on the other side of that portal, waiting for us. I heard about what happened with Keats at the proving grounds...it goes no further than us, though."

Atlas stared at Iziz in disbelief. Why was he now having his abilities called into question?

"Listen Iziz. Firstly, Keats used a level forty Dakuatsu with a full incantation and I walked away from it. I admit, I am a little rusty with my own, but I've had a few days to train with what I know and I'm satisfied I can do a job out there. Secondly..."

Iziz bowed his head a little, and waved an apologetic hand before Atlas finished.

"I'm sorry, sir, I meant no offence. You don't have to explain. We're all quite nervous about this, there's a lot that doesn't add up. The Pillar's last known location was a small garrison on an island called Corone. We don't know what's there but we think that whoever stole the Pillar wasn't working alone, and we could be walking right into a trap."

Atlas nodded.

"I expect so. But, again, I have to reassure you Iziz...I'll be fine. You won't have to babysit me on this."

---

Telgradian Gateway

---

The room that contained the portal to Althanas was gargantuan. It resembled an old monastery, with cylindrical limestone pillars connecting the moss covered granite floors with beige archways that stooped up into the rafters, and sunk low into the aisles. Everywhere in the room there were random piles of debris that had fallen from the crumbling roof, except for the gleaming white pedestal which contained the gateway to Althanas.

The pedestal itself was hexagonal, carved from the best marble and engraved with many golden and silver symbols and runes, most of which were unintelligible to modern day Telgradians. Four stone claws curved up and in towards a glowing ball of marine blue light that pulsed and hummed above a metal rim.

Atlas stood at the head of a column of men. The first section contained his officers, Iziz and Mott, and a couple of guards from Kokushi that had been requisitioned for the mission. Behind these were the convict guard assigned by the Council. Atlas looked upon them, and saw many things. Desperation. Ferocity. Fear. Insanity. On some of their faces, he saw hope. On others, he saw despair.

Each of them was a life. Each of them once had something other than the barren, desolate future of Kokushi. Hopefully, they would all come back alive to atone for their sins and live again as free men.

Hopefully, they would choose not to rebel at the first opportunity.

He stood for a moment, and paused for thought. Then, Atlas decided to address his men, and especially the convict guard patrol attached to him.

“We’re going to a place called Althanas to get Osiris’s Pillar. For a lot of you, it will be completely alien. Some of you have spent many years in Kokushi. Some of you have indeed been there your whole lives. This place will be dangerous. There is a good chance we will have to take our objective by force, and I promise each and every one of you now: if you fight hard when it is asked of you, and are loyal to your brothers and sisters amongst you and my men, you will walk free amongst the citizens of Telgradia again with your pride restored. I am Atlas Revaan, and I do not lie to any of you, For our honour, our dignity and our respect…we go forth.”

There was no cheer, or rallying cry, or clashing of shields. There was no need for that here. All there was in the room was anticipation and fear of what was to come.

Revaan felt a tingling in his arm. Iziz behind him strapped on his helmet, tightening the chinstrap to maximum until he had a second fold of skin. Each of the convicts looked a little nervous, like the queue for the gallows on an execution. Whatever anyone felt like now, or whatever reservations anyone had about going, it no longer mattered. The time was here.

Atlas approached the portal slowly, walking tentatively up the marble steps and into the grasp of the iron claw. Electric sparks of blue lashed out from the pulsing sphere and whipped his cheeks, stinging like hailstones in winter. As he penetrated through the marine blue membrane of the portal, his ears popped and everything sounded as if it were being heard from underwater, so he quickly shut his eyes instinctively.

When Atlas opened his eyes a moment later, they were struck by brilliant white, and he winced in pain. He could see Iziz and a huddle of men through the blinding light, wading through the viscous liquid membrane of the warp portal's interior.

Suddenly, there was a blast of cold air. A scent of soil, of grass and earth, of leaves, trees and foliage, then of dirt, gravel and stone.

They had arrived as planned.

[Gnarl & Root]

Her name was Telana and she would have Gnarl talking for some time after everyone else had fallen to sleep; hours passed and whispered continued, she was fascinating and her blue eyes were unrelenting as they urged for eye contact. It was hard to break focus on her at all, beneath the dust and old clothes she was a beauty, and one that Gnarl appreciated the more they spoke.

Yet it was as if she was searching for something other than information on escaping, with various questions about him and what he had seen on this place they resided in. Who was she? Why was she the only female in the prison? And why out of everyone here were they the only ones talking? She claimed to be from a place far beyond that of Talgradia or Althanas, but she cleverly avoided the full question after suggested she was wrongly imprisoned for crimes her family committed rather than herself.

She could fool many a man with those eyes, they flickered just at the right time, and she averted her gaze with a swift change in topic whenever she required it. The nature of her posture was confident, maybe too confident and ever more so since the rest of the room had fallen asleep, snoring as time passed. She acted as if she trusted him and yet Gnarl felt she suspected her distrust, irrespective of how he played it, he would have be cautious, for everything that was happening and everything that was to happen was a bizarre twist of fate that just seemed too easy to be true.

By the time he fell asleep he had lost complete track of time. The morning bells were ringing, not the bell of church or tower, but a man stood by the doorway, rattling the small hand bell with a constant high pitch jingle that could have waken the dead. Gnarl struggled to move as the shuffling of bed sheets and clothes filled the room, he had fallen asleep on top of the covers without getting undressed, much like the majority except he hadn’t slept as long as he would have liked.

The irritant continued ringing his bell until the last of them sat up before he called for them to get ready as soon as possible. Gnarl placed his legs over the bedside and rubbed his tired eyes, he often didn’t need much sleep anyway but the soft mattress just invited him to relax and sleep some more. Looking up he noticed the somewhat sleepy gaze of the brute he disliked so much already, Telana called him Jurt, but it was questionable to whether it was really his real name.

There was simple too much uncertainty here to feel at ease but Gnarl, along with everyone else just carried on.

“Come on, line up!” The guard shouted as they queued up to leave their nightly home.

His stomach groaned, how long had it been since he last ate? He questioned it knowing full well it had been too long, but how was he supposed to fight on an empty stomach was beyond him.

“If you’re as hungry as me I feel for you.” Telana uttered as they stood up and wandered towards the queue.

Gradually they were led back down the corridor, past the marble lobby and into yet another large room that they hadn't seen before. The polished room again a higher quality of life that none of them were used to. Lengthy wooden tables that could seat at least twenty people stood before them with bowls and cups quickly filled them as the maids distributed the food evenly. The armed guard still seemed to lack, but as food and water presented itself for free, there were no uttering's of escape. Gnarl sat down and freshly cut slab of chicken, some bread with some vegetables sat on the plate before him, his stomach begged for him to start and yet he paused, hesitant to take a bite before those around him.

Everyone tucked in but there were no utensils, no knives or forks that could be stowed away at any point. The entire table rushed the food down as Gnarl watched his own chicken sitting patiently to be eaten along with everyone else's.

"Eat up." Jurt smirked from across the table as he ate his greens. "If they were gonna kill us, they wouldn't waste good food to poison us."

Gnarl didn't reply, but he agreed silently before finally picking up and taking a bite out of his chicken. Oh how much he enjoyed the taste as the juices filled his mouth with the unfortunate few droplets leaking from between his lips. It was hard to savour any taste as he swallowed immediately with his stomach getting carried away, but he loved it anyway as the flavour lingered in his mouth for a few moments. Breakfast didn't last that long at all, for it was the best breakfast any of them had experienced since their arrival here, a true meal to help raise the strength and fill the stomachs of the men before battle.

Telana smiled at Gnarl as he finished up; still nibbling on her bread she glanced up and then nodded to Gnarl. He looked up curiously, and above them lay the shrouded balcony of the upper floor, no torches or light seemed to reach the banisters there, but the slight glimpse of armoured men appeared around the room. As safe as they felt with the few guards stood around the rooms, it was slyly better guarded than it would appear. Crossbow men stood waiting, watching from above in case there was any hint of a mutiny from the feasting men, they could all keep eating, they would enjoy themselves while they could but the more Gnarl looked around the room, the more apparent that this was just the same as the sleeping quarters, a prison hidden beneath the beauty of a well-crafted and expensive building.

Gnarl placed his hand on Stoney, awaiting his comment, awaiting some sarcasm or advice for what to do. He wasn't going to be able to see Root while he was with all these people, but why was Stoney so quiet? His fingers rolled and flicked Stoney around in his pocket in an attempt to gain a response, but there was nothing but silence. Gnarl frowned, knowing his own companion at the moment was Telana, and he wasn't even sure he trusted her. She smiled with another flick of those beautiful eyes, her long eyelashes giving off some sexual prowess with each blink and Gnarl smiled back in a friendly manner.

Again a voice called out for their attention to leave the room, everything was happening so fast, and the few slow eaters quickly shoved what little food they had left on their plate into their mouths. They all moved along, back into single file as they were led out of the banquet hall and through yet another large doorway. They had little time to adjust to anything new, but maybe this was the plan to keep the in line, a few still half asleep, others rushing their food and those that were quick enough to keep up with everything, they weren't in any one place long enough to understand exactly where they were or where they were going.

Telana seemed to make an extra effort to get in line beside him, barging past a few men to ensure she stood in front of Gnarl in the queue. For all of their chatter last night she had been rather quiet once in front of everyone again and yet seemed to say enough with just those beautiful blue eyes. Gnarl gathered himself, he couldn't let himself be taken in by such a temptress, he had to concentrate to where he was going and what he had to do. The corridor he followed seemed rather short, and the line paused as it reached another large double door; currently remaining shut as one guard peeked inside while the others ensured everyone was in order. Gnarl had never been the most patient and stuck his head aside the line to see what was going on ahead; he could see nothing, just people, stone walls and more stone walls.

A small burnt out torch sat disused within a small alcove within the stone wall, the old decorations even left to rot slightly, this corridor was not of common use, which seemed bizarre considering the well-kept nature of the building in general. He tried to read the writing, only to be following the smooth stone down into the curvy shapely form of two sexy muscular bum cheeks, what great architecture this really was.

Gnarl snapped out of it and looked forward again, his mind wandering to the female form before him at the most inappropriate of times. Yet, thankfully for him she hadn't noticed a thing and even more fortunate the door holding them up, opened with a loud creak. The groups chatter raised as some excitement grew, slowly they were being let into the room, one at time as they were handed something upon entry. Gnarl couldn't see what it was but could see them disappearing down what appeared to be steps; now Gnarls mind really began ticking, where they being sent now?

It didn't take too long before he was next behind Telana, she stepped forward before having a sword thrust in one hand and a shield in another.

"Get down stairs and get in line with the others! NEXT!" The guard shouted bearing another weapon.

Gnarl stepped forward ready to receive his weapons as Telana disappeared down the stairwell without any hesitation. A small iron hand axe was pushed into his chest along with small buckler shield of decent quality.

"Get down stairs and get in line with the others! NEXT!" The guard shouted on repetition giving Gnarl no time to inspect his new weaponry.

Given a little push in his back he let his momentum carry himself down the stairs, the stone steps gradually changing from the clean cut and perfectly fitted build down to the old, worn and ancient stone which presented the large broad room before him.

They were definitely below ground, the old stone walls bearing the odd scar of missing bricks where earth and tree roots managed to sneak through. Moss covered various parts of the walls and even some water leaked in the corner, this huge room with its massive pillars and arching roof was a relic of past times. Yet it was not completely forgotten as the men piled in and lined up in their droves, all looked in to the center of the room to the one mighty item that remained unaffected by time.

A large white stoned pedestal, hexagonal from above and large enough for one squadron of men to stand upon it. Yet with its six sides, only four pillars raised up to before aching inwards without touching in the middle. Like a hand it appeared to grip its possession, a glowing sphere which flaunted its multitude of shades to the colour blue, whirling and rushing around like a stormy sea. Yet against the laws of gravity that Gnarl knew, the liquid sphere never splashed down to the floor, instead it swirled in position giving off a light humming sound.
Gnarl had never seen such a thing before, and how it was contained in such a manner was an incredible sight to behold. Was this the portal that they had been talking about? How did it work? Would it hurt? A million thoughts processed through his mind, but only two questions really mattered at this stage; what was awaiting them on the other side, life or Death? And why was Stoney so quiet?

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

They had arrived in the middle of a tree lined courtyard of what appeared to be some sort of fortress, likely the fortress that had been mentioned in the briefing as the last known location of the Pillar of Osiris.

Atlas, free from the disorientating effects of the portal, paced around the gravel area that now lay around him cautiously, each footstep accompanied by a loud crunch that made him cringe a little bit inside. Then, other crunching footsteps followed as more and more of his party spewed forth from Telgradia. For the moment, they were undetected, and his first objective was to continue that trend as long as possible, but Atlas knew it was only a matter of time before someone heard or saw them.

Behind them stood a ten foot tall arched stone gateway, with heavy iron doors that had been bolted shut from the inside. Surrounding them on either side were two storey sloped-slate roofed terraces, constructed from beige limestone. Their windows were arched and their canopies were covered in moss and lichen. Clay-pot chimneys protruded from the rooftops, puffing out clouds of white smoke that drifted away on a light breeze towards the fortification ahead of him. The main body of the fortress was vast. The first section was about eighty foot of pure limestone, without a single window or doorway between the foot of the building and the first of four circular spires, and imposed itself upon the rest of the buildings.

There was definitely someone home.

“Iziz, we’ve got trouble.” Atlas whispered to his right hand man, pointing towards the main keep’s largest tower.

At the very top of the building, a curved area with ramparts was visible, and atop these were armoured guards who now swarmed like ants onto the observatory to spy their uninvited guests. Most of them spent just enough time there to raise their heads over the stone parapet, before pointing and shouting at the Telgradians and then disappearing from view altogether.

“They know we're here, Atlas. Men!” Iziz shouted, unsheathing his sword from its leather scabbard by his side, raising it to the sky. “Make ready!”

Iziz’s command was like fire to a fuse. The column of forty or so men, including the convict guard, under Iziz’s command responded with drill-like discipline and formed a circle in the centre of the courtyard, their shields placed in front to form a defensive perimeter with their blades pointed out over the top. Atlas joined Iziz in the middle of the circle. Simultaneously, the doors to the terraces that flanked them flew open, and before long a whole garrison of troops poured through their barracks archways to form an outer circle to counteract Iziz’s defensive formation. They moved as one, a sea of green, as if there were just one brain instead of many. The right legs moved in unison and then the left legs. With each step the sound of the boots on the cold gravel was like the warning thunder of a coming storm. Each face was grim with determination.

“Stay calm, men! Steady!” Iziz commended from within the circle.

The stalemate continued as each soldier and convict refused to take their eye off of their opponent, waiting for the order to strike.

Then, suddenly, a single man stepped into the courtyard from the barracks.

He was an officer, judging by his uniform, and a young one at that. By his side he held a curved sabre with a glistening, polished blade, the sort that were used for ceremony only. His walk had a certain arrogant swagger to it, and beneath the visor of his wolfskin hat were a pair of cold, blue eyes and matted dark hair. He gestured towards the inner circle of men, and addressed Atlas with a sharp, icy tone.

“Clearly, it would be ridiculous for you to not lay down your arms and surrender under normal circumstances, being as outnumbered as you are. However, as you’ll soon come to appreciate, nothing that will happen here today will be classed as 'normal'. After all, it is not often we get such distinguished guests.”

“Shut up!” Atlas shouted. “Who in the hell are you?”

The man smiled thinly, his tightly drawn face screwing up into a smirk.

“I am Captain Elio Strong, and I presume you are Atlas Revaan. We were told you would be coming. I am attached to Colonel Keats of the Telgradian Royal Guard, and we garrison this fort.”

What?!

“You said you were attached to Keats?” Atlas enquired. “What the hell are the Telgradian Royal Guard and Keats doing having a private garrison on Althanas?”

Elio laughed, raising a clenched fist to his lips.

“My orders here are nothing to do with you, and I do not question them. If you are so curious, you can ask Colonel Keats himself when he gets here.”

What the fuck is going on?

Atlas clenched his teeth angrily. He didn’t understand what Elio was saying.

Why would Keats have any involvement with an Althanian garrison? Why would he be on his way here?

Elio shrugged. “The quiet type eh? Why don’t you put your weapons down, and we’ll take a peaceful walk into the holding cells where you can wait for the Colonel to arrive?”

Atlas and Iziz shook their heads. “We stay here. I’ll speak to Keats from here when he arrives.”

Elio looked visibly irritated. “You are wasting my time. Please do not underestimate me or my soldiers, because regardless of whose army you belong to, whether you wear the King’s colours or not, I won’t think twice about killing your men if you persist in this futile game.”

There was a pause, before an almighty crackle of electricity echoed around the courtyard, startling everyone. In front of the iron door, a blue sphere of energy manifested, burning a small crater into the gravel floor and charring the edges of the stone archway. Forks of lightning licked the limestone and smeared a burnt black residue over it as the orb grew bigger and stabilised into a portal similar to the one Atlas had just emerged from.

“Elio, you will do no such thing. Not yet, at least.”

A silhouette emerged from the portal. The man’s slick black hair, his eyes and golden spectacles were unmistakable.

“Keats…” Muttered Atlas, clenching his fists. “What the hell is going on here?”

Keats strode towards the outer circle of men under Elio’s command. As he exited the portal, his right arm seemed to be dragging something heavy behind it.

It was a corpse of a man. A Telgradian soldier, no less. His neatly buttoned shirt and white pipe clay crossbelt were smeared in fresh, thick blood. His stomach had been ripped out and all that remained of his belly was a gaping, bloodsoaked wound. There didn’t seem to be any lower limbs, just a trail of blood and the ends of entrails being dragged across the dirt. Keats stood two feet away from the outer circle, who parted and peeled away from their assigned ranks to clear a path, and unceremoniously dumped the bloodsoaked body at the feet of Iziz’s men. There was a thud, and crimson pooled out into the courtyard. Elio looked on, his wry smile still etched onto his wiry face.

Iziz looked horrified. His face contorted between shades of anger and astonishment.

“Atlas, that’s…”

"General Osho.” Keats interrupted.

Atlas was incensed. Osho had shown him every kindness since he awoke from Kokushi, and was a well respected General himself. To see him in such a state was infuriating and confusing. He gazed into the open, motionless eyes of the old man, wretching inside from the horrific mess in front of him. Osho’s face told a story of the manner of his death; it was twisted in agony, the very expression sickening to behold.

Revaan felt a lump of rage swell up in his parched throat, but could only manage a couple of words.

“Why?!” He roared, slamming his fists down by his sides. “What has happened here, Keats?! Why did this have to happen?!”

Keats remained still. He brought his hand up to his glasses, adjusted them by the rim, and smiled. Then, quickly, from underneath his greatcoat he pulled something, an artefact. It was some sort of multi faceted crystal, clear to the eyes, and it dazzled brilliantly in the morning sun. Within its centre, a glowing turquoise gas core pulsed like a heartbeat and hummed gently, sometimes expanding to touch the very edges of the crystal and other times retracting to the very centre in a very metronome fashion.

Even having never laid eyes on it before, Atlas knew in his heart what that crystal was, and what Keats holding it represented. The turquoise glow made him feel uneasy, lethargic and vulnerable, but he couldn’t help but stare into its core. Keats replaced the item back into an inner pocket, and folded his arms. Elio motioned for his troops to ready their weapons, and Iziz reacted a split second later, issuing the same command to his own men.

“You traitor…it was you all along. You stole the Pillar of Osiris. I don’t know why you did it, but look at you! It’s corrupted you!” Atlas seethed at Keats, who just stood there, unfazed.

“Atlas Revaan, we are all here for one reason, and one reason alone.” Keats responded coldly, gesturing towards his Telgradian counterpart. Atlas clenched his fists, preparing his Dakuatsu for use at the first opportunity. Iziz stood up straight, his blade readied.

"No, not Atlas Revaan." Keats corrected himself, taking his time. "Atlas Revaan was just a puppet of the Telgradian Monarchy, an invention to hide the inconvenient truth. Allow me to address you by your real name...Shinsou Vaan Osiris."

[Gnarl & Root]

It all seemed to happen so fast, the main squadron of men marched onto the platform while the prisoner unit witnesses from behind the second unit of Talgradian infantry. It seemed bizarre that no one else was afraid of what stood before them, or if they were, it did not show upon their brave faces. Gnarl on the other hand was afraid of what was going to happen, what would happen to him? What did he have to do?

Then, the swirling mass of liquid moved, spinning around faster and faster before expanding itself steadily until it engulfed the entire first squadron of men stood upon the pedestal. The white stone platform and the armoured men quickly disappeared from sight, not even a blur through the murky water remained, as if they had disappeared in the mass of blue water. Gnarl felt himself panic inside, his eye's erratic as he searched for a response from the others around him, even taking a step back, yet only to bump into the man behind him.

It was only then he could see that he wasn't the only one disturbed by this experience after all, and yet the armoured guards around them would let no one flee; ensuring everyone stayed within the room as the doors behind them all remained solidly shut. His breathing had heightened, his grip tensed on his axe as if to defend himself, but his legs pulsed with adrenalin as if ready to run. Then standing beside him as if it was all natural, as if she had seen it many times before, Telana just stood there, relaxed and unafraid of what was going on before her.

Gnarl paused to watch her, not a second of doubt or fear, she remained still awaiting for the sphere to expand once again; and it did. In one quick and swift expanse; like an explosion it fired out quicker than any man could run and engulfed the entire room. Gnarl held his breath as the fear of drowning came to mind, and yet no water hit his face as a bright light blurred his vision before dulling into a dark state. The various smells of earth filled his nose and as a strange tingling rattled his skin he felt weightless, if only for a moment before he felt his feet press against a hard gravelly surface.

Suddenly his eye's seemed to focus again, stone walls lay either side of him, but not from a room. The group looked around themselves, the confines of the ancient room were gone, the white platform they stood upon no longer here; they were in courtyard, behind a large locked iron gate. Were they exactly where they wanted to be?

Gnarl resisted the urge to drop to his knees, something few others avoided; with many throwing up and others just taking a moment to gather themselves. Gnarl was shocked, had they really travelled to another place? What magic was this? Not only was he standing in a new world, he was perfectly fine, no injuries or fatigue. In fact, he felt great as he slipped his buckler shield up his form arm and gripped his axe tightly in his right hand.

Being left with no time to admire his surroundings, they were pushed to one side, all leaning up against a large terrace of a stone building, ducking low out of sight, and keeping to the structures shadows away from the clear sunlight of day. The wind blew hard and the first evidence of living people floated overhead; smoke from the castles chimneys carrying with it the strong smell of cooking meat.

They all waited patiently, unsure of what exactly was happening up front with the leading officers, while the mighty castle tower ahead was unknowingly spying down on them as they waited.

Then, the sudden call from up front. "Men! Make ready!"

The armed force ushered everyone back into the center of the courtyard, quickly grouping and taking up a defensive position. Their shields raised and their swords and spears ready and protruding over the top. Gnarl like many others with the small close combat weapons held their position within the center of the group, kneeling just behind the shield wall that they had created. He felt blind, unable to see anything but the tops of the walls and buildings around them, and yet marching feet and shuffling armour was sounding out from around him; the battle was not far away.

"Shit, their all around us!" A panic stricken voice whispered within the group.

"Stay calm, men! Steady!" The commanding officer shouted again.

The men adjusted their defensive position again as the enemy appeared from all sides, they couldn't leave such a dangerous gap open; not if they wanted to survive this fight.

"Come on, they weren't supposed to know we were coming."

"What's going on? What treachery is this?"

Various comments whispered through the men, the nerves were showing, but their formation didn't break, it was too vital to go all lax right now. Gnarl and the others within the circle peered over to witness the enemy before them. They could clearly see the two captains arguing, calling to one another as they appeared to discuss their options.

It was unnerving having to sit and wait, what exactly were they expected to do, come to a solution that involved letting them go? They were outnumbered by initial appearances, and the uttered nervous words of surprise to their situation did not help; it was clear things were not going to plan.

"Alright." Gnarl got nudged hard by Jurt as he got his attention. "As soon as this kicks off, I'm killing Officer Iziz. With all the fighting, I'll be able to slit his throat in the chaos."

"This isn't the right time." Gnarl shook his head.

"It's definitely the right time." He replied with a glare.

"No it's not..." Telana interrupted. "Don't fuck this up for us."

A swift and forceful boot kicked Jurt over onto the floor. It was Captain Iziz, and he looked furious. "Get yourselves in order before we all die through your incompetence."

It was a reminder to them all, they had to time everything correctly, any wrong move could see them die, be it by the Talgradian Guard or the enemy. Gnarl knew it, Telana knew it, but Jurt was bigger and stupider and had no intention of listening to their advice. Lifting himself back to his crouched position, he picked up his dropped blade and looked over at them both.

"This is happening, he just sealed his fate."

With those final words Jurt wandered back across the circle to stand over the other side. His burly figure did look intimidating when one on one, and he was big and strong enough to take down the Officer; there was no doubt about it. However in all the chaos that was about to ensue, it would have to be a sneak attack, he wouldn't want to give him any time to defend himself, he hadn't become an officer because he couldn't use a sword.

The warm sun continued to bear down on them and Gnarl wiped the sweat off his forehead as he noticed Telana's eye's met his own, without a word Gnarl already knew what she was thinking. Because the truth was, he was thinking the exact same thing, they had to stop Jurt.

Gnarl mouthed his only question to her: how? Telana meanwhile didn't expect to go toe to toe with him, this had to be something clever, and seeing as Jurt had never really taken his eyes off Gnarl since they met, it would be too obvious coming from him.

"Leave this to me." She whispered before stepping away.

Now it was just one big waiting game, all their heads now remained ducked low awaiting for the shout to release them for battle. Gnarl had gone from eating a peaceful breakfast to bracing himself within a tense moment of potential death, all within what felt like a few moments. With the army behind the shield wall; the enemy surrounding them, Telana to his left and Jurt on his far right. It was anyone's guess who would make the first move but either way, blood was sure to flow.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

“Bullshit.”

Keats, now revealed to the world, was the very epitome of a murderous, wretched creature. His voice, once smooth, was rough and raspy and when he spoke it was almost as if a demon had clambered into his shell and taken control of his vocal chords. His blood-soaked arms fell by his side, and he threw his head back and cackled at Atlas’s response.

“Predictable.” Keats said with bitterness in his voice. His tongue shifted restlessly in his graveyard of a mouth where his white teeth stood like scattered tombstones. “I know you won’t be one for telling, Shinsou. Oh, I know that I’ll have to show you before the day is done, before the blood of your men is spent, what you really are. Before that, though, let me ask you this; were you not once suspicious of the Council’s intentions? A man not five days out of Kokushi sent on a high profile venture to obtain a high value item, far beyond the remit of any normal Telgradian?”

Atlas stood silent. Keats nodded, lashing his tongue inside his mouth, slurping. “They needed you to get the Pillar, Shinsou. Only Shinsou Osiris can touch the Pillar, for his soul would rend asunder the flesh of another who touches it before he.”

“…Why?” Atlas queried, his arms crossed across his chest as he looked across the blood-soaked corpse with a dark glance. “…If what you say is true, Keats, then why are you able to hold the Pillar?”

“Have you not figured it out?” Keats cast a sharp glare in Atlas’s direction and spoke in a tone that said that he had neither the patience or the intention to explain further. But Atlas was unscathed by this tone, his eyes gleaming up at the man with a keen look that silently insisted on elaboration. Keats sighed deeply. “…So disappointing. I expected better of you.”

The righteous, uncaring tone stung Atlas, the irritation of not having his question answered growing within. “I asked you a fucking question, Keats!”

“NO! You, Atlas, didn’t ask me a question!” Keats screamed. “Atlas is a puppet, a soul-less doll, an empty shell! You don’t ask questions because you lack the inclination to be independent! As you are now, you are nothing more than a vessel for something far greater. You want answers?”

Keats’s tone was definite, abrasive, and filled with anger. “…I will show you your answers!”

There was a flicker of blue light where Keats’s crimson covered form was. Dust kicked up in a circle around the spot he stood, swirling into the air and dissipating along with his image, which cracked into a thousand tiny shards and disappeared with an eardrum shattering thud.

Everything in the courtyard stopped instantaneously.

Altlas felt a cold breath on the back of his neck, one that stank of tobacco and blood. It was Keats. He didn’t have time to think, to move, to flinch, to cry out, and the only thing he could do was stand helplessly as the sharp crystal point of the Pillar of Osiris slowly dipped into his back, producing a trickle of blood and a helpless whimper from the man.

”Here it is…a gift, from servant to master. The reason I am able to wield the Pillar, Shinsou, is because your will allowed me to do this!”

The raspy ancient sounding voice spoke with a bitterness of a psychotic murderer that lost all connection with reality a lifetime ago. It was a hissing voice of a snake that swivelled and rattled in the dirt just before it was about to strike.

Atlas felt a wretch in his stomach as the icy cold crystal edge of the Pillar filleted the flesh in his back, separating the skin from the bloody sinew underneath. Yet, even as he anticipated it, the pain never came. He shut his eyes tight, waiting for the agony. It was a rush, a frenzy and behind him he could hear the courtyard becoming a melee, a maelstrom of confusion, a torrent of fear and panic. Blood poured copiously from his back. Still, the pain refused to come, and then all went black.

A shockwave of silver light erupted from the epicentre of his body as soon as the glowing blue core of the Pillar melded with his flesh. It kicked up a huge cloud of gravel and dust as the ring of light expanded and burst, adding to the confusion and the chaos of the skirmish between the occupants of the square.

Keats watched with glee a few metres away having retreated a little, wiping the fine grit from his eyes, the little grains of sand and dirt clinging to the blood on his arms. Finally, the moment had arrived, the moment he had been waiting for all these years. Many men lay dead around him, their eyes glazed and staring infinitely into the sky. Their bodies had quickly become stiff and unnatural, blood seeping slowly from nostrils and mouths and ears. As Keats stepped over them and on them, hurrying to get to the centre of the dirt cloud that had formed around Atlas, he wondered what he would find. The Pillar of Osiris had dissolved in his hand as soon as it had made contact with Atlas.

Could this be the moment?

The silhouette of the form that was once Atlas Revaan half knelt in the courtyard, resting his body upon a gloved fist that ground into the gravel. Keats wafted away the remnants of the dust cloud to get a clearer view. As he approached a stern voice, much different to Atlas’s soft tone, drifted from the epicentre of the chaos, between the crackling of electrical jolts that snapped at Keats’s arms on approach.

“…Jaeger Keats. It's been a while.”

Keats stopped immediately, recognising the voice and its mannerisms as someone familiar. He dropped to one knee, grinning, bowing his head as he went. The silhouette stood upright, and walked towards him through the now fading dirt cloud.

“You did well to get the Pillar out of Telgradia. For that, I congratulate you.”

“Thank you.” Keats replied.

This new entity stood feet away from Keats, and although he was the same man, there seemed to be something cloaking him in a dark, tainted aura. His brown hair was swept back, his gold eyes seemed permanently narrowed and every look he gave seemed to be sinister or cynical. A wry smile hung on the corner of his lips, and the whole of his body seemed to be swathed in a powerful, almost tangible arrogance that followed and cloaked him like a cape.

The Pillar of Osiris was gone, and in its place stood Shinsou Vaan Osiris, the Emperor of Telgradia reborn.

“Lord Osiris, we have been preparing for this moment for three long years.” Keats began. “Is it finally time? Have your memories returned?”

Shinsou stood for a moment, his eyes surveying the carnage of the ongoing battle ahead of him in the courtyard. There was so much fighting going on that very few people had stopped to try to understand what had just happened, their lives and fight for survival were a far more pressing concern. As Keats looked up, he caught the gaze of his Emperor, and recognised a little glimmer in his eye.

“The damage that the razing in Kokushi did to my soul remains to be seen, Jaeger. For now, I need you to take me to the Cartographer. I will explain more about the situation there.”

Keats nodded obediantly. “Yes, my Lord. At once.”

With that, the bloodied man spread his arms wide, and a thick, watery orb manifested between his outstretched limbs. It expanded, its membrane humming and pulsing as it pushed out, swallowing the two men whole. With a final screech, the portal momentarily flickered and then snapped shut, leaving only the small of burnt cobalt hanging in the air amongst the dead and dying, the living and the fighting.

[Gnarl & Root]

The voices rose in tempo and temper as the conversation continued, now becoming more of a distraction than a concern, and yet their orders seemed to hinged on the result of it. Everybody else remained in silence, their defensive positions to be held under all circumstances, awaiting their commanding officers to instruct upon them their next move.

The enemy looked impervious, everything had fallen exactly how they desired, their position superior with their opponents outflanked and outnumbered and yet they remained in a stalemate, awaiting some sort of order or for the other to make the first move to begin the impending war.

Then, almost strangely the wind picked up, not just a gust or a shallow breeze but a gradual up lift in pace with a swirling motion. Shifting in an unnatural manner it disturbed the men of the battlefield, causing everyone to begin to move about with an uncertainty as the armoured circle of men altered from their instilled formation. Gnarl, being barged by the back stepping men shuffled across the floor awkwardly before rising to his feet.

The concern to what was happening behind him was as frustrating as it was worrying, but it was only as he stood back himself and looked up at the swirling mass of dirt and colour, appearing like a twister at first, but it lacked a spout as it seemed to accumulate everything into some sort or orb that by no means was natural.

Then, boom!

Gnarl attempted to cover his eyes as the orb exploded before him, flashing a bright light it didn’t appear to expel any fire and yet the force of it lifted not only himself but everyone within its vicinity off their feet. They all crashed into the ground in an awkward mess, but as bad as it felt in the moment, it was evidently much worse in the aftermath.

Gnarl sat up unscathed, the protective circle of armoured soldiers destroyed in an instant, but to his own fortune, it had protected him from the blast. Soldiers lay motionless in a heap of blood, sliced up with a multitude of cuts and wounds that sliced through their armour and lodged in their skin.

Moans of pain and grief lifted the silence and it became painfully clear that while the two arguing men had disappeared, their emphatic exit had started the battle better than any worded command. Gnarl looked around, lost in the moment he watched the resulting destruction before him, it was terrifying.

The enemies leading unit itself had been floored, now attempting to raise themselves back to their feet before the fresh layer of dead bodies which had become a new uncomfortable obstacle to navigate. They each appeared as shocked as Gnarl, had they been betrayed themselves by their own leader? It was a question they seemed to be asking themselves, the rambling nervous chatter becoming clear through the lifting haze of smoke and dust.

A tensed hand then gripped his shoulder; the somewhat injured Officer Iziz leaned into him as he steadied on his own feet. Gnarl glanced over his shoulder at him, holding his hip he hobbled forward to look at the injured enemy before them; in this moment, outnumbered or not, they had a chance to strike first.

“ATTACK!” He shouted at the top of his voice, the stunned unit still steadying itself. “Get up and take this moment!”

Hastily he helped pick up the slower more stunned men under his command, and then, as if they had not been injured themselves they charged forward towards the still stunned enemy squad that fronted the unit.

Metal clashed and sliced as the sound of battle finally filed the air, the Talgarian guard now fighting for their lives without the complete clarity of their own outcome should they win. Following up, the prisoners launched themselves into the fight, much less armoured then the guard, but armed and nimble. The counter attacking enemy came in from the rear only the meet the line of prisoners that awaited them, the dust in the air now settling to reveal the full scale of the war they were involved in.

Gnarl ducked under a long slow but powerful thrust of an attack, the much larger framed man throwing his weight into the piercing attack. Adjusting himself to one side, Gnarl parried away the man’s weapon with his buckler shield, while raising his right arm he hacked down his axe into the man’s neck.

His angry eye’s quickly lost their intensity, and as Gnarl prised the axe free, the eruption of blood flowed out and down his once shiny armour. Gnarls heart raced aggressively, not stopping to watch him fall do the floor he looked around ready for another attack; and it came quickly. This time a swordsman stepped forward, slicing across violently and yet he would also fall to Gnarl, who charged into close quarters, striking the man in the face with his shield, the large blunt object crashing into his nose and splitting the skin as it smashed into him. His vision obscured, Gnarl hacked down onto him, the armour doing its best to deflect but again he struck and it was only a moment before he dropped to his knees and fell limp.

Stepping back behind another soldier Gnarl took a moment, a front line had now begun to form before Iziz as he structured his main unit. Meanwhile the rest seemed disorganised, the prison guard ran free and combated where they saw fit as the rest of the Talgarian guard fought furiously but failed to find any structure beyond that of fighting on the same side. Then, hidden through the melee before him and slaying the few who had broken in through the defensive line, Telana remained fighting.

Her long hair occasionally flicking around and cover her face, she moved swiftly to avoid being hit. She may not have been as physically strong as those before her, but she could outwit and outpace them. Finally the last of the break in attackers had fallen and Telana dropped to her knees; she was exhausted after only a short battle and yet there was so much more to do.

She caught her breath and stood back up, the heavy shield beginning to hamper her more than it was protecting. Sliding it off her shoulder she dropped it to the floor, resting it up her leg as she carefully looked around for anyone else who had penetrated their position. Spending all her time in the cell had taking its toll, and her aching legs felt tired, if she could escape right now for a rest, she would have.

Just a short distance from her she could see Jurt pinning down an adversary, both gripping the same blade but with Jurt using his weight and size to push the blade down into his chest. It was a rather gruesome affair, and the squeals that left the man’s mouth were cringe worthy as his body shuddered before falling still. Telana never blinked, she had witnessed worse and experienced much more; this was nothing more than the familiar.

Jurt stood up, retrieving a different discarded sword from the dusty floor and immediately looked up towards Iziz. Telana’s heart began to pump away, the adrenalin flushing through her body as she anticipated his next move. Officer Iziz was facing away to the melee, using the men before him as a barrier; he limped around while throwing out orders and keeping his men organised. His dark hair astray, his clothes ripped, and a light but bloody wound just above his hip; he was in no real shape to fight, and it was clear Jurt saw this as an opportunity.

Telana reacted straight away, marching up behind him as he wandered across to the unaware Iziz; the potential murder weapon resting upon his shoulders as if relaxed about his very intentions.

"Spears, strike forward!" Iziz shouted violently, his instructions heeded over the loud clashing of metal and screaming men.

Only meters away Jurt could no longer hide his smirk as it appeared menacingly across his face. The generous offering of an easy kill had been presented to him, and he would take it eagerly. Then, just as he was about the strike the un-expecting officer a cold hand gripped his shoulder as he felt the long nails of a woman dig into his sweaty skin.

A sharp and intense pain shook him, his right side weakened but he resisted the urge to cry out in pain as he clenched his teeth. He peered back to see who grasped him, and Telana stood there, staring with no fear or intimidation towards him, and no remorse for what she was about to do. Holding even tighter onto her small knife, she no longer held the weapons she possessed earlier; and she pulled the blade out from his kidney with a slight twist. Then as he faltered in shock she stabbed him again over the same wound, then again and again as she repeatedly stabbed the knife into his right kidney in a ferocious and horrific manner.

The blood poured from his defenceless body, his right side destroyed into a gaping hole of blood and hanging skin; and so he dropped to his knees. Feeling the very life fall from him in such a way he had never imagined, this woman who had agreed to his plans before they left the prison beds had betrayed him.

She pulled his dark greasy hair away from his face and looked coldly down into his dying brown eyes, no hint of regret, no hint of enjoyment, just a empty stare that passed on a message.

"I don't blame you because you don't understand who I am...But don't ever endanger my plan..."

Then with one final strike, she drove the knife deep into the side of his neck. Listening to him gargle and spew blood from his gaping mouth; she wanted no reply, she just wanted him dead. Letting go of the knife she stepped back and let him join the rest of the dead; Iziz never need know how close he came to his end.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

For a moment there was a quiet humming. As the vibrations reached a violent crescendo, Keats’s portal throbbed into existence, rending a turquoise, oval shaped gash in the atmosphere of the room. Out of the rip first stepped Keats, a determined expression on his face as he fought to keep the portal open, followed closely by Shinsou Osiris, who calmly strolled from the mouth of the pulsing blue membrane to the centre of the hall. He stood for a moment, surveying his new surroundings, and then turned to face Keats.

“It is just how I remember it. The Cartographer.”

The first thing that Keats remembered about this place was that there were no doors here. It was a place that can only be accessed by his magic. The ceiling of this magnificent hall must have been thirty feet high. Designs of intricate gold vines and flowers were carved into the white marble moulding along with rows upon rows of red spined books that had been painstakingly collected over many years and stored here in the heart of the fortress. Small, angel like beings looked down at them from every angle. Nearby intricate vases of blossoms gave off a cloying scent that made Keats’s eyes want to itch. In the centre of this grand place was a white, double stepped pedestal with what appeared to be a single granite sarcophagus laid atop it.

For a moment, Keats hadn’t absorbed Shinsou’s first words, but then they sank in.

“You’ve been here before? How?” He enquired, a quizzical look etched upon his face.” I thought you couldn’t come here without my magic?”

Shinsou looked unfazed. He swept a hand through his brown locks, and took a look around him. “This place existed long before you came into my service. I was always able to come and go as I pleased to Althanas, a world which always intrigued me, but to ensure The Cartographers survival in the event of my death or capture, I erased the enchantment required to open the portal to the room from my memory. Unfortunately, this has proven to be an unwise decision.”

“Why?” Keats asked, frowning.

Shinsou turned around. He paced slowly across the marble tiled floor, approaching Keats, who was stood just in front of the first step of the pedestal. The clicking of his heels upon the polished stone echoed like a gunshot around the hall.

“You know why.” He started, his tone suddenly becoming cold, his eyes sharpening like knives. “Surely you didn’t think that I wouldn't sense what your intentions were?”

Keats looked surprised.“…My intentions? You mean-?”

Shinsou stopped. He was only a few feet away from Keats now, and it was close enough for his right hand man to see something in his eyes, a soft anger perhaps. Keats swallowed hard.

“Yes. You intend to use me to revive Temperance.”

Keats sighed, his head dropping for a moment. He shrugged, and walked up the pedestal, running his hand on the smooth stone of the lid of the tomb atop it. Suddenly, the lid began to slide back, grinding against its ancient stone mechanisms. The opening revealed some sort of blood channel carved from a golden plate that led into a crystalline orb placed at the base of the sarcophagus.

“…Yes, it is true. I know that when you pour your blood into this artefact, the Pillar of Jalshey, the seal on Temperance’s temple will be broken. With our combined power and that of the Jalshey, we can topple Temperance and subjugate it to our every whim. With a power such as that at our disposal, think of the possibilities! Telgradia would fall at our feet in a matter of days. We would rule the entire realm!”

There were a few moments of silence. Keats shuffled around the tomb, and walked back down the steps of the pedestal to face Shinsou once more. If he had been expecting Shinsou to be impressed with him, he was sorely mistaken. The emperor of Telgradia reborn frowned, shaking his head.

“You are more dangerous and naive than I ever gave you credit for, Jaeger Keats, but I once thought as you do. I felt the call of the Jalshey separatists resonating from deep within that temple, begging me to awaken Temperance, to use it to hold Telgradia by its throat.”

Keats looked his emperor in the eyes once more. They were almost ablaze. He felt as if he had just started travelling a path that there was no return from, but he wasn’t to be deterred. Shinsou dipped his head, his tone deep and firm as he continued.

“Temperance…that being made from shadow and bone…it was raw power. Even as I stood surrounded by the tombs of the greatest, most evil Jalshey lords, staring into its eyes was like staring into the heart of evil itself. It corrupts the purest minds, bending them to its will, twisting the soul until not a shred of humanity remains.”

“Temperance has been asleep now for three years, feeding off of the life force of every living being on Telgradia’s surface, getting stronger. It will sleep another two, and once it awakens, it will consume Telgradia as it has tried to do so before.”

Keats scoffed, lashing a dismissive hand out.

“What do you care if Telgradia burns?” He questioned “You, yourself, wanted to destroy it at one time. Three years ago, you would have massacred the populace of Telgradia if it had served you some purpose!”

Shinsou nodded, but there was still anger in his voice.

“It is true what you say. What the greatest of the Jalshey warriors knew of evil, they no doubt learned from me. But what does it matter now? It is not who I am. Not anymore. And what do you think will happen once Temperance has razed Telgradia? That won’t be enough to satisfy its hunger. It will come here, to Althanas, and then to every realm it can reach after that. There will be nothing but a trail of dead worlds in its wake because you see, Jaeger, war itself is a hunger, and Temperance is a force whose hunger will never be satisfied.”

Shinsou suddenly turned on a sixpence, and marched towards the blood channel atop the pedestal purposefully. His white coat drifted behind him like a phantom as he went. Every step he took, every motion he made seemed to be brimming with a power that wasn’t present before his re-awakening, and now he seemed more resolved than ever to carry out his agenda.

“There is only one viable solution, and that is to obliterate it before it awakens, and that is the reason for all of this. Did you think it a co-incidence that everything that has happened has led us here?"

Keats shook his head, clenching his fists. He ground his teeth, seething at his master. He could not believe what he was hearing. All of the planning, all of the waiting…it was all for nothing.

“You betray us, Shinsou, and you betray the Jalshey who have awaited your return! Telgradia, like Althanas, brushes the edge of an empire, the empire that I have built in your absence, one that waits in the dark for your command. For too long, the Jalshey have been forgotten. They will soon be remembered. Before they are, before that day comes, Temperance must be used to carve the path we walk. You must see sense!"

As Keats’s final sentence reached his ears, Shinsou stopped dead. It was at that moment that the former emperor knew that their differences could no longer be reconciled. He had tried to show Keats the foolishness of his actions, he had tried explaining, without success, what horrors awaited him should he walk this path.

There was no talking to him anymore.

“The arrogance!” Shinsou erupted as Keats stood alone at the foot of the pedestal. ”Telgradia shall be as it always was, a graveyard for a broken and defeated people. With or without Temperance, nothing will change that. What you suggest, though, will be the end of many worlds, including Althanas. That, I cannot allow.”

Keats had already realised that there was nothing more he could do to convince Shinsou of the validity of his plan. With or without him, he would awaken Temperance from its deep slumber and lead his waiting empire into a glorious new era, sweeping away all fragments of the Telgradian world. He had decided that he would take Shinsou’s place as Emperor.

He crossed his arms in front of him, dark electricity crackling within his palms, waiting to be unleashed on command.

“You are a fool, Shinsou. You could have had your boot on Telgradia’s throat once again! Now, I will claim that throne as my own, and you will burn to ash for your weakness.”

Shinsou unbuttoned his coat and threw it, watching as it landed in a crumpled white heap next to the blood channel. He rose his right palm and outstretched his fingers, closing his eyes whilst muttering an incantation under his breath.

“Dakuatsu seven: Black Lance”

Immediately, a thin streak of dark energy snapped into existence and expanded, forming into a solid conical shape. Lattices of purple electricity entwined the lance of energy and spiralled up Shinsou’s right arm, stinging his bare flesh and singing small fork shaped burns into the skin.

“You used to admire me, Keats. You will soon know that admiration is the farthest thing from understanding.”

[Gnarl & Root]

As the battle raged on, the numbers quickly lowered as the courtyard became littered with bodies like a field full of daisy's. Gnarl still standing, still fighting, soon became one of the few remaining prisoners. Regardless of the energy that escaped him, he pushed himself on as he pursued his freedom; and it was so very close.

All this time he had nothing but a disdain for the Talgradian guards, their disapproving looks and their lack of care for the state of the food he received. They had never cared for him before, they did as they were told, they did as they knew, and yet since this whole thing had started it was as if he had forgotten.

Had his hatred waned? He really hadn't the time to really think about it but as he stood beside them, shield to shield, covered in sprays of blood and sweating out true grit together. It became clear that it didn't matter, not now, not later, all that mattered was surviving. Forcing back another foe with a mighty push of his shield, one of the guard hastily stepped up and finished him off with a hefty blow of his mace.

Gnarl paused for that moment, receiving an acknowledgement of a nod before the man moved on. Was he really trusting in them? The only answer was yes, but it was a yes that he had little choice in while they were locked in a battle for their lives.

They had instinctively formed a small group as they progressed forward, leaving a larger and larger gap behind them as they chopped their way through the enemy. The once formal structure now nothing more than a free for all for the remaining men, and with both sides visibly lacking in numbers the counter offensive that Iziz had used had made its impact.

Yet in their breakaway group, they were outnumbered and quickly getting surrounded, with the lack of leadership they had wandered without direction and soon found themselves in a dire position. Yet to their left, waiting behind a few men, one of the very entrances to which their opponents arrived. An exit.

The advancing group realised their mistake too late and their position crumbled, Gnarl witnessing their inevitable doom looked over at the door again. It was his only chance, it was his only opportunity to survive that little longer.

He charged into the fray like an enraged bull, crashed into the body length shield of the enemy. Slashing out decisively with his axe he scalped the first man in his way with a single swing, then in a fluid motion he drove his shield into the second man's gut, allowing for a single but effective follow up strike from his axe. He stepped through the open gap and into the empty doorway. The corridor inside was completely abandoned, with nothing but a bland stone hallway and a series of closed wooden doors that lay ahead. Looking behind him, everyone seemed to attempt to follow, yet only a few would make it.

"Don't fucking stop!" Telana erupted with a great intensity.

Where she had appeared from Gnarl wasn't so sure, he had lost her in the melee as the actions of battle took over. Yet here she was again, tugging his arm almost desperately as she dragged him onwards and away from the swarm of murderous weapons that chased them.

They daren't turn round, their legs exhausted and running as if on fumes, but their desire to live overriding the fact they were so very close to death. It was the first time in the battle Gnarl had actually felt in trouble and while his quick thinking and a bit of luck got him into the corridor in the first place, the reality of the situation was not lost on him.

There was no real escape, there was no real answer waiting for them inside this stone coffin, accept the understanding that it was going to take something special to make it otherwise.

They passed the first door, shut but it mightn't have been locked, yet they had little time to take chances. They paused by the next door, already ajar Gnarl took his opportunity and shoulder barged his way in. Telana quickly followed, almost tripping as she dropped her sword and then forcefully slammed the door shut. The tension now showing on her face her as lips trembled and she pressed her back against the door.

Panting away she slid down the door till her bum pressed against the cold stone. Her head tipped back as she caught her breath, watching Gnarl shut the latch and then ushering her to one side as he jammed an old rusty chair under the handle.

Then, a knocking at the door, repeated slams and kicks of frustration and desperation as a voice called out.

"LET ME IN!" The voice shouted as it shook under the pressure of his thrown punches.

"UNLOCK THE DAMN DOOR!"

"Don't do it..." Telana interrupted, placing her hand on his forearm.

"It's a Talgradian guard!" Gnarl replied upset by her hesitance.

"We have no proof of that, it could be anyone! A trick!"

"LET ME IN NOW!" The panic stricken voice continued to call out in vain.

Gnarl and Telana stared at one another, a disagreement in silence, Gnarl felt it was one of theirs, but he had to agree he didn't really know. He hadn't looked behind him when they ran, he had only looked for an exit and as selfish as it sounded, there was little time to be a hero.

Telana had been no different to Gnarl, she too had not looked behind her, but the care for the potential life of another was something she seemed to lack. Was she wrong to be this way? Or was Gnarl not being cautious enough? The truth was they had no idea who was behind that door, and as it fell silent with the banging stopping it only gave them one truth. They were too scared the open the door.

Gnarl pressed his own back against the thick wooden door, they could hear nothing on the other side of it, and on the inside, there was no other exit. They had not looked properly before entering, the only thing they noted was the lack of life, but they had failed to take note of the lack of another exit.

They sat alone in a uncomfortable silence, inside a small room that must have only been about four meters either way. Loosely stocked with shelves and barrels, spears and swords, boxes and cups. They were sat in store room, a small one at that, and everything appeared old, there were no shiny upgrades for a weapon, the spears well used and too long to use within such a confined space, and the boxes, barrels and cups all looked empty.

The only thing trapped in this room besides themselves was the cold stone that had been used to make it. Even the mounted wall candles remained half used and covered in dust, this room, of all the rooms that must have been in this place, was hardly used.

Side by side they lent against the hard wood of the metal framed door, it's only promising attribute was the effort it took to open it. Even Gnarls barge in had failed to knock it swinging into the wall upon entry. They had trapped themselves in small stone casket, a grave they could share together after leaving their colleague to die.

As much as he hated them, he was never really a murderer, he didn't like letting anyone die if he could help it. The further truth was that he had probably never seen any of these men before, his mistreatment from his cell was more likely that of a actual prison guard than that a soldier of the army.

Telana looked at him, the guilt however much he tried to hide it, was written across his face. She on the other hand seemed to lack any empathy towards anyone besides themselves, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Get a grip Gnarl, were not dead yet."

Gnarl turned to look at her, both panting with exhaustion, but both alive and unwilling to give up. It was an strange silence, awaiting to hear something or someone come chasing them, to crash into the door and tell them to come out and surrender. Yet as the seconds passed, nothing seemed to come for them, were they forgotten or was death coming in silence?

Part of Gnarl wanted to accept defeat, there was simply nothing left, nowhere to go, no one to open the door and tell them they were safe. Gnarl, though physically unscathed was tired and alone, with a woman he struggled to trust, a woman who for some reason had formed a strange attachment with him.

She held her ribs on her left side, hidden slightly from Gnarl as he stood up, but he could see some blood running its way through her fingers. Even with the scruffy hair, dirt covered skin, damaged clothes and fearsome attitude that gave lead to a distrust; she was still attractive. She just oozed questions and uncertainty, how on earth had she made her way to this place?

"Are you hurt?"

Telana almost sneered back, he didn't need to ask the obvious. She raised her bloody hand, it felt a bit shaky as a few drips made their way to the floor before she held her side again. Her brown pants torn revealing a few minor cuts, her knee exposed with a scuff and a graze, she let out a long sigh as she felt a little weak. She was hurting, but she was alive.

"So...looks like our plans went out the window. You prepared to die alongside a stranger?"

Gnarl knelt down and picked up his axe, holding it against his chest in a sort of symbolic pose as he looked into her eyes.

"There are no windows of which to throw out our plans."

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Shinsou lurched forward from the pedestal and quickly brought the point of his dark lance to bear, turning to aim a blow at Keats’s exposed left side as his enemy readied his electrical attack. The former emperor made no sound, thrusting his weapon at his foe’s unprotected flank, but Keats quickly pivoted on his right in anticipation of the motion of the lance, only just evading it. As he did, he stumbled slightly, taken by surprise at the speed that his opponent commanded.

Keats thought that his former emperor would have great trouble fighting in close combat with any degree of fluency with such a long weapon, but Shinsou had compensated for his range quickly as Keats stumbled, using the opportunity to retreat a yard to ensure he could put the required power into his next attack. With a quick instep and thrust, Shinsou drove his dark lance point into Keats’s ribs, who stumbled to one knee, blood spattering upon Shinsou's face.

Keats clutched his gushing wound, panting heavily.

“Do not think that you have won!”

Keats looked up at his former charge, the pain from his wound blurring his vision. His face was pale, taught and full of malice. Shinsou’s emotionless gaze bore down on him, tearing into his soul. The emperor gripped tightly on the dark hilt of the lance and the electrical activity around its shaft increased. Keats’s blood still dripped from its point and pooled on the varnished floor below it.

There was what could only be seen as disgust in the Emperor’s countenance.

“In the moments after my defeat, I realised the folly of what I had done, what activating Temperance had wrought, but by then I was already a monster in Telgradia’s eyes. So, I resolved then and there to destroy it for good. You, however, would foolishly try to subjugate it even knowing what it is capable of doing to you. It is a force of pure evil you don’t truly understand, and you hope it will deliver to you the world. I have never seen such utter foolishness."

Shinsou’s voice was deep throated and bellowing. The words themselves were empowering him, and all the while their meaning intended to whittle away Keats’s morale.

Keats bore his pearl white teeth in rage. He had heard enough. Without warning, a web of black electricity crackled into existence and entwined around his right leg. From his crouching position, he placed both hands on the floor and swung his body around, leg outstretched. Shinsou was startled by the sudden counterattack. The emperor felt his feet giving way beneath him and as he crumpled to the floor he grimaced, feeling the stinging heat of the electricity searing his calves. To his amazement, as he lay on his back, Shinsou could still feel the cold hilt of his dark lance still locked between his fingers tightly. Silvery beads of perspiration trickled in firm torrents down his face as the pain from his leg started to creep up his body. The aching from the electrical burn was thumping like a drum, nagging at him.

Keats was back on his feet now, albeit hunched over with his right arm wrapped around his bloodied left rib. The electrical activity around his leg had subsided, but something new was happening. Keats’s counterattack had given him a small yet useful opening.

“Dakuatsu fifty: Jigoku Guard”

From the floor beneath him, spirals of white energy coiled and wrapped themselves around Keats’s legs. They quickly slid over every inch of his body, bathing him in a dazzling light, before finally bursting into a million silvery particles on his command. The particles gathered at the bloodied, puckered flesh of his wound and coalesced together to close the almighty gash that Shinsou’s dark lance had inflicted, much to the emperor’s chagrin.

“You remember this one, right Shinsou?” Keats asked smugly, presenting himself with his arms outstretched. “Jigoku Guard both heals and forms an impenetrable barrier around the user, preventing any Dakuatsu from working. You should have killed me when you had the chance, instead of preaching your nonsense.”

With Shinsou slowly clambering back to his feet on his left, Keats saw where his emperor’s balance would most likely fail him, at least for just that one small moment. He used it to his advantage. Sweeping his right leg outwards, he quickly jutted his heel into the back of Shinsou’s already damaged left knee, the foot connecting harshly with the joint, and sent him crashing to the floor, belly down.

“When you are dead, I’ll take up your mantle and finish the job you started. There’s an empire sat waiting in the shadows at the very edge of this world, Shinsou. They wait for a strong leader. But I’m going to take my time and enjoy this. No-one can get in or out of here, other than me, so we’ll be left in peace to savour each other’s company just a little longer.”

[Gnarl & Root]

Nius pushed open the door, his bright purple tunic catching the flickering light of the burning torches as he wandered casually down the hallway. Besides a reassuring glance to the posted sign his stride continued towards his favourite part of the day.

Floor 10, Maximum. Senior Staff only.

No one ever talked about it, but these were the worst of the worst prisoners, all celled up next to one another as if on show like legendary creatures. Nius rarely came back down here, the deepest part of the dungeon where only the few were allowed access, but he wasn't here to imprison another killer worthy of their rare dungeon. He was here for his weekly check-up, to ensure there were no problems and to mock those who he hated most.

This dungeon was layered under thousands and thousands of tonnes of rock, re-enforced with the toughest of metal's to create the cell's and then shrouded with dampening magic in the form of restraints and a mist that engulfed the entire level ensuring no amount of power could surface beyond it.

There was no equal to this prison and with such measures in place, it had become customary for Nius to mock the monsters that he now controlled. He smugly stroked his own beard as he pre-empted the hatred he was about to receive, marching past the first few doors he decided he would return for them later; firstly he would greet her again.

Yet, before him hidden within the shadowed light stood what appeared to be a guard, still armoured and with weapon in hand, yet the standing spear looked as if it held him upright. He was completely motionless and didn't respond to the approaching footsteps of Nius.

"What the hell are you doing down here soldier?"

Nius was furious, the amount of trouble they would be in was absurd and how exactly he had gained access to the secure facility was going to be an even bigger question. Something was just not right, the air still, the burning torches appearing unnaturally slow and the cold damp smell lifted into his nose stronger than ever before. The guard as still as a stone statue, remained silent and did not react to Nius as he stood before him.

He didn't need to shout at him to understand he was not his normal, and as he waved his hand in front of his face not even a flicker of the eyes reacted to his presence. The eerie silence had never bothered Nius before, but as he stood facing a man who he could only describe as dead on his feet, it scared him to think he was now alone in this corridor with an open cell.

The door ajar, the lock open and a more than likely empty cell; at least he hoped. Gripping the man by each arm, Nius shook him harshly to disrupt the frozen moment and bring back any life that still remained. The scale mail armour rattled and his spear dropped from his limp hand as his eyes finally began to react to the real world. Nius observed as his pupils adjusted to the light as regained their composure. His legs nearly collapsing beneath him as he steadied himself, he greeted Nius rather confused.
"Sir..."

"What on earth are you doing down here?" Nius let him go as he turned towards the door.

"I don't know Sir."

Nius, still uncertain of his position braved the negative thoughts as he pushed the door open and looked suspiciously into the empty cell. The hanging chains all released with the metal cuffs along with various other bits of broken metal lay strewn about the floor. Nius took a long deep breath as the realisation of the missing prisoner sunk in. Not only was it a disaster of the most serious type, it was an insight into what was supposed to be the impossible.

He walked slowly across the room, stopping curiously in the middle as he ran his stressed hand through his greying black hair. Kneeling down to inspect he picked up a small piece of metal, cutting his finger on the sharp protruding blade of the snapped metal link. The small seeping droplet of blood was more than just a small cut; it was a message, and one that hit him like an old memory.

Nius almost toppled over as he steadied himself, leaning on all fours as he struggled to intake the vast of amount of information that fed to him. His eyes glazed over black, his skin uncontrollably sweating and his muscles weak and as the magic took a hold of him.

The silent guard stood in shock, but it only took a moment, a few tough and painful seconds, but seconds nonetheless. Nius's breathing relaxed again, but now he could see everything he was meant to see, and he didn't like what he saw.

"I...I understand what happened." He muttered as he rose to his feet. An uncomfortable ringing now present in his ears and a headache that was discouraging to say the least. "You came down here to rape her..."

The guard stuttered bemused by the question, Nius could see the past, some sort of seer that could connect to an objects history after its touch.

"You selfish ignorant fool. The moment that thought crossed your mind you killed us both."

“SHE WAS IN CHAINS!” He protested, gesturing dramatically at the loose hanging chains of the cell. “Like anyone cares what we do to these prisoners…They are in here to rot, so I made use of her. Not like she can do anything, she’s still wearing the necklace…right?”

Ignoring the man’s ignorant uncertainty, Nius looked down to his finger, the small flesh cut dribbled out a small but continual stream of blood to which he frowned.

The guard continued. “I mean, only you can lock and unlock those right? Right? She can’t get to the key. Plus, I didn’t even know you were a seer, I mean…I thought nothing could come of this.”

Nius then rubbed a small bleed from his nose, his muscles suddenly feeling fragile and weak as he took a deep breath of a sigh.

“I know what you thought, nay, I understand what you thought. But because of you, she’s free and now it’s only a matter of time.”

“What do you mean? She has the key?”

“You know, when I agreed to be part of this, I never thought it would end this way. Immortality comes at a price; I’ve watched my family die, my wife, my children and their children. I have watched my friends die and colleagues come and go as I’ve served. It is a shame that you’ll never fully understand what you were part of here.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Well, I’m already dead, she poisoned the metal, she knew I’d come in here and cut my finger to find its past. But more importantly, as soon as I die and that isn’t too far away now...”

Nius’s nose began to bleed more profusely as his eyes suddenly showed the signs of blood clots and bleeding vessels. The guard watched in horror, not really understanding the events before him, but scared all the same.

“…Well you’ll be questioned and then killed for your part in this.”

“But you’ve always said this place is protected…How…”

“You can only dampen power; you can never completely remove it. She played you like a piano and you performed.”

Finally the reality of the situation struck him and the guard charged off, dropping his spear a second time in panic and it rattled for a moment as it hit the rocky floor. Nius didn’t give chase, he didn’t need to, the man’s futile attempt to escape would not get him far.

“How did she figure out I was a living key…”

Nius looked down at his hands again, his every limb shaking while his very skin began to sweat blood. His breathing paced quicker, shocked and afraid but while he knew it was pointless, the urge to shout out for help grew. The questions of how she knew what to do and how she got it in the prison in the first place rattled his frightened mind, but no question or answer could satisfy him before he died.

He hobbled, almost falling over towards the cell door, leaning against its frame with his hand the door shifted; allowing his weakening legs to give way as he collapsed in the entrance to the cell. A lot of things had changed in his time, but now as he lay down on the floor: unable to sit up or stand, his blood oozing out of every orifice, his vision blurred and reseeding with his breathing slowing. He had to accept he was beaten, and his given of near immortality had been solved and defeated.

Telana was free.