Author's Preface
"Let's get to the gates!" Zeek shouted to his men, his voice cutting through the alarms as he marched toward the entrance.
"Let me out! I can help!" the Wanderer called out, gripping the iron bars. "I know how Skida thinks!"
Zeek stopped and looked over his shoulder. "With all the suspicion surrounding you right now, I can't just let you out during a Draemiran invasion."
"After everything I've done for Valoria?" the Wanderer replied bitterly. "After everything I've done for you?"
Zeek’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second. "I'm sorry..." he muttered, before turning and continuing his rapid ascent up the stairs.
The Wanderer wedged his head between the bars, shouting after him. "She will strike from within first! Zeek! Let me help!" But the doors were slammed shut, cutting off his voice.
Timothy’s mocking laughter echoed corridor. "See how true Valorians repay your efforts? Now you finally understand how I feel. How all the Black Crowns and suppressed mages feel in this wretched city."
The Wanderer let go of the bars and sat down. "The Black Crowns? Like the ones you murdered and kept in jars?"
"Sacrifices must be made. Altharion's laws will fall, and they will fall by my hands."
"You're just a madman, Timothy," the Wanderer replied. "Bloodshed will only bring more bloodshed."
From the opposite cell, Roger leaned against the walls. "War was inevitable, dear Wanderer. We are the redemption that follows it."
The Wanderer leaned his head against the wall, his heart sinking as he muttered to himself, "I just hope she isn't a part of this sacrifice."
A few minutes passed before the dungeon door screeched open again.
Silhouettes moved swiftly down the dim corridor, their faces concealed by the shadows of the underground torches. The Wanderer stood up. "Zeek? What happened?!"
One of the figures stepped forward into the light, a twisted smile on his face. "A lot has happened... comrade."
The Wanderer's breath hitched. It was the same Draemiran spy he had pointed out to Zeek.
The Wanderer took a few steps back into the darkness of his cell. "Where is Zeek?"
The man shrugged. "He's probably a bit busy outside right now."
"Hurry up, scum," Timothy shouted from his cell. "I've already begun to rot in this place."
The Draemiran ignored the Wanderer, stepping past his cell to stand in front of Timothy.
Timothy glared at him, commanding. "Open the door now, Draemiran trash. What, are you going to stare me to death?"
The spy laughed and bowed mockingly. "Of course, my lord." And began unlocking the iron bars.
Timothy stepped out into the corridor, shaking the dust from his fine silks.
The spy turned to look down the row of cages. "We can't move in a large number, it would draw attention. Who else do you want to join us?"
Timothy scanned the cells, pointing casually. He picked Roger, along with five other Owl nobles. The accompanying Draemiran soldiers began unlocking the designated cells.
The remaining left-behind nobles erupted into a panic, shaking the bars of their cages.
"Don't leave us here!" a high-born lady shrieked, tears ruining her makeup.
"I'm your faithful friend, Timothy! Let me out, please!" a wealthy merchant pleaded.
"Shut up!" Timothy snapped. "Don't think I've already forgotten how you all looked at me the moment he revealed my Black Crown lineage."
As Roger’s cell clicked open, he stepped out and glanced at the Wanderer. "Tsk…You picked the wrong side, pal."
Timothy waved his hand to the crying nobles and turned back to face the corridor, gesturing grandly. "Alright, alright, I suppose I can forgive you all. When I get out of here, I'll send someone back to-"
The sound of steel ripping through flesh cut him off.
The Draemiran spy had driven a dagger into his abdomen.
"Who said you're getting out?"
Simultaneously, the other Draemiran soldiers turned on the five freed nobles, driving their blades deep into their chests.
Desperate, Roger shoved the Draemiran assassin's arm aside, and bolted toward the dungeon exit.
He didn't make it three steps before a bolt of lightning hit his back.
The force of the spell threw Roger against the Wanderer’s cell. The electrical surge sent intense spasms throughout his body, causing his hands to lock around the iron rods in a death grip. He gasped, "Help me!"
The Wanderer gave a slight shrug. "I don't think I can, pal."
Roger’s eyes rolled back as his body gave out. His stiffened hands remained clutched to the bars.
Suddenly, another explosion of magic echoed down the hall.
"No! I will not die here! Not like this!" Timothy roared. Clutching his bleeding abdomen with one hand, flaring the borrowed mana with the other, clumsily throwing roaring fireballs left and right.
The Draemiran elites dodged the bursts of flame despite the narrow space. One of the soldiers lunged through the smoke, tackling him from behind and pinning his arms.
Another Draemiran stepped forward, calmly raising a small wand. "You are far too loud for a pawn," he murmured.
He channeled magic through the wand. A searing stream of fire erupted from the tip, engulfing Timothy's face and turning it to blackened char in seconds.
The soldier holding him let go, allowing Timothy's lifeless body to drop onto the ground.
The lead spy walked past the carnage, stepping up to the Wanderer’s cell with a grin.
The Wanderer stared at the small wand in the man's hand. "So that's how you bypass the Nullstones."
The man looked down at the wand, then back up. "You don't seem afraid."
"If your orders were to kill me, you would have tried already," the Wanderer replied.
The spy chuckled, sliding the wand back into his cloak. "You've got balls, comrade. I'll give you that." He began unlocking the iron door, swinging it open. "Skida wants you for herself. Try not to die before you reach her." He stepped aside, gesturing toward the stairs.
The Wanderer kept his eyes locked on the soldiers, backing out of the cell carefully before turning and sprinting up the stairwell.
Reaching the guardroom upstairs, he found all the guards slaughtered, magic residue on their armors.
He stopped for a second, glancing at the bodies, before retrieving his confiscated mechanical arm from the storage crate.
He hastily clipped the harness back into place, and ran out into the open air.
The city was in utter chaos. The blaring sirens were drowned out by the screams of panicked citizens running through the streets.
The Wanderer ignored the fleeing crowds, pushing his way through the chaos as he ran full speed toward the Bradford manor. Bursting through the gates, he began shouting at the top of his lungs, "Serenya! Serenya!"
The front doors flew open, and Serenya came running down the stone steps.
They met in the middle of the garden, the Wanderer instantly pulling her into a hug beneath the swaying branches of the oak tree. She pulled back slightly, framing his face with her hands, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank the Light you're okay."
The Wanderer gripped her shoulders. "Quickly, there's no time. Where is your family?"
"My mother disappeared right before the alarms went off," she said, her voice shaking. "And my father went straight to the King's court. I was waiting here for them to return."
He grabbed her hand, turning toward the gates. "We need to get out of Valoria. Now."
"No," Serenya said, digging her heels into the grass.
"We will find your parents and leave together, but we have to move!" he insisted, trying to pull her along.
She pulled her hand out of his grip. "I won't leave Valoria."
The Wanderer stood still, staring at her.
"These are my people," she continued, in determination. "And this is my home."
"Those people would kill you if they knew what you really are!" the Wanderer shouted.
"Then I'll die for Valoria to survive!" she yelled back.
The Wanderer slammed his fist into the oak tree. "Why won't you listen?" He growled. "Draemir is ruthless. Skida won't launch an attack like this unless she is certain she’s already won."
Serenya stepped closer, laying a hand against his back. "I know you don't wish for Valoria to fall," she said softly. "But fleeing won't help. If I can save even one life today, I will."
Suddenly, a colossal blast exploded over the heart of Valoria. The force rattled the sky and the ground beneath their feet.
Serenya stumbled, losing her balance, but the Wanderer spun around and caught her by the waist.
As the tremors subsided, a voice boomed across the entire city.
"This is my first and last warning, Valoria."
The Wanderer’s jaw clenched, his face flushing crimson as he muttered "Skida..."
Skida’s voice continued. "Your precious Nullstones will not save you today. Surrender your gates before I bring the walls down over your heads."
The Wanderer looked at Serenya. "Go find your parents. Get inside the estate or find a cellar, and stay somewhere safe."
He turned around and began marching toward the outer gates.
"Where are you going?!" Serenya called out, taking a few steps after him.
The Wanderer felt the Spiral's calling within, finally ready to be answered.
"To prevent the walls from falling."