The next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the cottage windows, painting the wooden floorboards in shades of warm gold. The air was a familiar tapestry of scent: pine, woodsmoke, and the sharp herbal tea Mayble brewed at dawn.
Eiden sat by the window, his arms resting on his knees as he watched dust motes dance in the light. Outside, the villagers moved with a quiet rhythm; they remained wary, but the sharp edges of their hostility had begun to dull into a cautious, distant curiosity.
Behind him, Mayble occupied her bear-hide chair, her knitting needles clicking with rhythmic precision. But she was no longer the frail shadow of a woman he had met. Her hair, once thin and silver, now cascaded down her back in a glossy, raven-black torrent. Her skin was smooth and radiant, and a faint purple aura shimmered around her like a localized mist. She looked young, yet she carried an ancient, predatory confidence.
Eiden turned his head. "Mayble," he said quietly, "what kind of magic do you command?"
She didn't look up from the wool. "And why would you be asking that?"
"You radiate the aura of a master," Eiden replied. "An experienced combat mage."
Mayble chuckled, a low, melodic sound. "Before my bones turned to glass, I was a witch. Believe it or not." She set her needles aside and leaned back. "I spent my youth cursing the political rivals of Prinston's family. I was raised by assassins; I was taught to find a heartbeat with any weapon I could reach."
Eiden blinked. That explained the weight of her presence.
"And my sister, Lily," Mayble continued, "is a black dragon. Different fathers, obviously. She's currently with a band called the Black Tails. She's made a formidable life for herself there."
Eiden's eyes narrowed.
"She told me once about a man she knew well," Mayble went on, "one who planned to dismantle the Six Devils from within. I heard just days ago that he fought you to a standstill."
Eiden stiffened. "The Black Tails?"
"That's the one. You know them?"
"Not the group," Eiden muttered, his voice tightening. "But I know Civilar, Ou'weii, and Yajin. They plan to purge them. Tomorrow morning, at the break of the second sun."
Mayble froze. She stood so abruptly her chair screeched across the wood. "What!?"
She stormed to the fireplace, yanking a painting from the wall to reveal a hidden alcove. She hauled out a heavy wooden chest and dropped it onto the floor with a thud. From within, she pulled a purple-and-black cloak embroidered with silver runes and threw it over her shoulders. Next came a slim, black-steel longsword, polished to a lethal mirror shine. She strapped it to her waist with a practiced, fluid motion.
"Tell Prinston I've gone," she said sharply. "I'm getting my sister out of that slaughterhouse."
She bolted outside. Eiden reached the doorway just in time to see her strike her chest with a glowing palm. Translucent, feathered wings of purple light erupted from her back, and she ignited into the sky like a violet comet.
Eiden eventually made his way to the central hall. Inside, Prinston was surrounded by armored men, the air thick with the scent of oil and steel.
Prinston was fully transformed. He stood in gleaming silver-and-gold plate, a yellow cape flowing from his broad shoulders. A longsword bearing the Golden Throne crest hung at his hip.
"Eiden," Prinston said, turning with a regal gravity. "What news?"
"Mayble has flown for the Black Tails' territory," Eiden said. "I told her Civilar and the others were moving to attack. She went to save her sister."
Prinston's expression went cold. The joviality vanished, replaced by a dark, shimmering intensity. "What," he said, the word less a question and more a threat. He turned to his captains. "Change of plans, men. I'm heading to the front."
"Are you strong enough to face them?" Eiden asked as Prinston reached the door.
Prinston paused. "My blood carries Divine Power. If Civilar and I clash, I will survive. But I do not go to fight a war today; I go to save my wife."
His body erupted in a flash of gold, and in the space of a heartbeat, he was gone.
As the sun began to set, Eiden walked toward the stables, but a low thunder in the clouds stopped him. A horde of black dragons descended from the sky, their wings beating the air into a frenzy.
Prinston and Mayble stood at the head of the landing party. Three figures leapt from the largest dragon. First was a man in matte black armor with glowing green eyes—the Dark Knight, Bengie. Next was Lily, a muscular warrior with long black hair and burning golden eyes. Finally, a grey-haired man named Laustr, clad only in a robe with a massive axe strapped to his back.
The dragons tensed as they spotted Eiden. Bengie bolted forward, his black longsword clearing its sheath in a blur of motion.
Eiden didn't flinch.
Prinston moved faster, intercepting the knight and forcing the blade down with a single hand. "Enough, Bengie. He is an ally."
"He's one of the Six," Lily spat, her golden eyes flashing.
"He is choosing a different path," Mayble added firmly.
Laustr stepped forward, offering a calloused hand. "I am Laustr. Thank you for what you did for our people. If you need a ride to your destination, I can provide one."
"I'll take him," Bengie grunted, sheathing his sword. He walked toward the outskirts of town, his body expanding and shifting until he became a colossal black dragon. "C'mon. Let's move."
Eiden climbed onto the dragon's back. As they prepared for takeoff, Mayble rushed forward. "Wait! Eiden—if you find yourself at death's door, chant 'Lord's Call' thirteen times!"
"What does that do?"
"It invokes the power of the Third Invocation," she shouted over the wind. "It is immensely powerful... but it may kill you to channel it."
Eiden nodded. "I understand. Thank you."
Bengie took flight, soaring into the dark velvet of the night sky. "Where to?"
"The unclaimed lands. Lord Zeth's castle."
As they flew, Bengie's voice rumbled through his scales. "You said I'd be useful in the future. How?"
"I've placed a seal in your mind," Eiden explained. "When I fight Uzak'me, it will trigger, and you will forget me. Later, I will release it. I need your strength to defeat Civilar, but for now, you must be hidden from the Six."
Bengie was silent for a long time. "Fine. When the fog lifts, I'll find you at Prinston's kingdom."
At midnight, Eiden opened his grimoire. "Are we close?"
"We've been circling his territory for an hour," Bengie replied.
"Then this is where I get off. Thanks for the lift, Bengie."
Eiden jumped.
He plummeted through the darkness, a silver streak against the black. He hit the earth in a kneeling strike, the ground shattering into a crater beneath him. He stood, dusting off his cloak as the first grey light of dawn touched the horizon.
Ahead, a castle of jagged black stone rose like a claw against the sky. A man stood at the gates—pale, dressed in a sharp black suit, with red eyes that pulsed with a faint, predatory light. A crimson sword rested between his hands like a cane.
Lord Zeth.
"Hello, Lord Zeth," Eiden said, stopping a dozen paces away.
Zeth smiled, a cold, thin expression. "Eiden of the Whitecrest Clan. It is a pity I must dispose of my old friend's only son, but the world is a cruel place. We begin at sunrise. I look forward to seeing if you are truly as 'weak' as your mother claims."