Red-Stained Night (Solo)

[Christoph]

Epilogue

The first touch of dawn bloodied the horizon, smeared by smoke rising from the forest. Elijah finally called a stop to allow his ragged band much needed rest. He perched himself atop a rock and surveyed the bleak remains of all he had worked for. Of the hundreds he had gathered, barely over fifty remained, frayed and exhausted, many injured. Much of his core followers remained, fortunately, but he had lost some of the best and brightest. Bashah was dead, and he felt that loss dearly. And Alexandria… he dared not think of her yet, or even look at her.

"Master!" one of his men shouted. "What do we do now?"

He felt their hopelessness. They looked to him for reassurance to ease their despair, but he felt little hope himself. The weight of failure threatened to crush him. If only they knew the suffocating doubt strangling his spirit… how could they not see the end? How could they still look to him for answers, when his answers had brought them only death and defeat?

We give up! he wanted to shout. We scatter to the winds and pray for survival. It is over! He wished nothing more than to return to the home he no longer had and resume the life long lost. Yet, when he looked upon his followers, his disciples, his flock, he knew that he lacked the luxury of defeat. He had nothing left but the debt of life he owed them all. He needed to show them hope of victory, and perhaps convince himself of it as well. Thus, he stood atop the boulder, steadying his tired legs and forcing determined stone into his despairing face.

"The enemy has dealt us a harsh blow." His voice, though soft, carried over through the chill dawn air. "We have watched out brothers and sisters in arms die and our works torn down and destroyed by the pawns of evil and the champions of lies! Truly, our darkest hour is upon us." He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. A soft murmur passed through the remaining host.

"Yet, we must now, more than ever, stand resolute before the darkness and endure. Our work must continue. We owe our fallen comrades nothing less. Anton!"

"Yes, Eli?" He forgave the noble’s bitter tone; for all his faults, Ser Timko cared for his sister. "What would you have me do?"

"Select two of my sorcerers and three others to form a retinue. You will travel south to your father's keep. We must secure the backing of House Timko… by any means necessary."

"Your will be done." A wicked grin slithered across Anton's face, and Elijah felt like he had loosened a demon's chains.

"Matron." Belov turned toward the leader of the seraphim. "Bring your flock and ten others through the northern mountains until you pass the Talov River. Begin establishing a new base of operations. I will bring the rest through the eastern provinces. I have allies there who may help us restore our numbers. We will rebuild until we have the strength to make war against the Sway again and bring down their false gods." He stood tall atop his makeshift podium, projecting more strength than he felt.

"The enemy sent a great force against us, which only proves that they fear us. Despite this defeat, our greatest triumphs lie still ahead of us!” He let this fleeting hope warm his soul. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could set things right. Even with Alexandria; he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her feet and beg her forgiveness. There was much to do first, however.

“Even the harshest, coldest winter gives way to spring, and not even the blackest, foulest night can hold back the dawn. And though we cannot yet see the light on the horizon, I promise you... the sun will rise!”