The cold dawn at Ashreign Citadel had been shattered by the blaring alarms, echoing through the stone corridors layered with ancient banners of the Blackthorn Bastions.
Cadets in partial combat gear had spilled from their dorms, boots pounding against metal grates as they rushed toward the briefing hall, the scent of cold steel and faint smoke sharp in the air.
Inside theAshreign War Room, a circular chamber lined with flickering screens and relics of old victories, Zayden stood at the central tactical table, gloved hands resting on the cold metal edge as holographic maps glowed, red warning sigils pulsing over Swenmere's coordinates.
His blue eyes had scanned the data, jaw set, the only movement the subtle clench of his fingers.
The doors slammed open as Sergeant Calvin entered, sweat streaking down his temples, breath coming hard.
"Swenmere Citadel… it's been attacked, sir."
Zayden's gaze had snapped to him.
"How bad is it?"
Calvin swallowed, eyes darting to the red blinking lights on the display.
"The arms storage we relocated after the last Ashreign attack… it caught fire last night."
Darian entered just then, half-zipping his black combat jacket, dark eyes narrowing as he took in the screen.
"Don't tell me it's gone."
Calvin's head dropped lower.
A heavy silence pressed into the room, vibrating with tension.
Darian's fist slammed down on the table, causing datapads to rattle and a distant clink of metal to echo across the chamber.
"They're gutting us from the inside."
Zayden's eyes narrowed as he studied the burning sigil on the map, the flicker of flames reflecting in the silver of his irises.
"Who sent the report?"
Calvin's eyes shifted nervously.
"Serinya Avalen contacted Evanora directly. They're tending to the wounded now, but the storage… it's gone, sir."
Zayden's gloved hand moved across the table, bringing up the next notification in the queue:
"CARGO SHIP 1E015 – VIRELLAN PORT: ARRIVED."
He spoke under his breath, but the words cut through the room.
"The outerworld shipment…"
Calvin nodded, trying to steady his voice.
"Yes, sir. Virellan's best arms. Cutting-edge prototypes meant for citadel distribution."
Darian shot Zayden a sharp look, frustration simmering in his face.
Zayden's jaw clenched further, his eyes darkening, the tension in his stance tightening like a coiled blade.
"It's him."
Darian stilled, the gravity of Zayden's tone anchoring him.
"Joker."
The name fell into the silence, sinking into the bones of the chamber.
Calvin hesitated before clearing his throat.
"Sir, your orders?"
Outside, the Citadel horns blared, rumbling through the halls as cadets donned armor and prepared their rifles, trucks growling to life under the dawn's thin light.
Zayden turned toward Darian, and for a breath, the two stood eye-to-eye, the memory of blood-streaked battlefields and silent nights thick between them.
"We're leaving for Swenmere now," Zayden said, voice steady, cutting through the chaos with calm command.
A smirk ghosted over Darian's lips, though his eyes remained cold.
They turned as the war room doors hissed open, their boots hitting the metal walkway with purpose.
GrimHarbor-
Cold salt air bit at Mackiah's skin as he stood on the deck of Cargo Ship 1E015
A massive, unknown army surged from the mist, clad in matte black armor, their formation disciplined and silent as they advanced across the docks. The first shots rang out, sharp and cold, as Virellan guards fell in clusters.
The Captain's voice roared above the chaos.
"All men to the frontline!NOW!"
The Virellan lines broke almost immediately, men scrambling for cover as gunfire tore through the morning fog.
"Who the hell are these people?!" Alric yelled, ducking behind a crate, hands trembling as splinters exploded around them.
"I don't know! Just keep your head down!" Mackiah returned, dropping another attacker before he could flank a guard.
Explosions rocked the dock, fire consuming crates, the smell of burning metal mixing with the salt and blood in the air.
As Mackiah attempted to get out of the ship, the Drakhal guard appeared out of nowhere and stopped him.
The Captain approached, sword in hand, blood on his uniform.
"What's going on here? Why aren't you—"
A single gunshot cracked.
The Captain's body jolted, eyes wide as he looked at Mackiah, mouth opening as if to speak, but no sound came. He fell, sword clattering, blood pooling beneath him.
Mackiah froze, staring at the smoking gun in the Drakhal soldier's hand.
"What… what did you do?" Mackiah's voice shook, his pistol trembling as he raised it.
The soldier lifted a gloved hand, pressing a communicator to his helmet.
"Target eliminated. The Captain has been taken care of, too."
The calmness in the voice made Mackiah's blood run cold.
"Who the hell are you talking to?! Who are you?!" Mackiah shouted, but his words were swallowed by the sounds of dying men around him.
The Drakhal soldier turned toward him, visor reflecting the fires consuming the dock.
"Both of them are with me now."
Mackiah took a step forward, but Alric grabbed his arm, pulling him back.
"Mackiah, don't—"
Before they could demand answers, the battlefield fell silent.
The black-armored soldiers stood in eerie formation, rifles lowered. The screams had stopped. The gunfire was gone. All that remained were the bodies of every Virellan guard, blood dripping from the edges of the dock into the sea.
Alric's breath came in sharp gasps as he took in the scene, eyes wide with horror.
"They… they killed everyone…" Alric whispered.
Mackiah scanned the dock, chest heaving, unable to comprehend how swiftly the slaughter had happened. The cargo meant to save Virellan was burning, black smoke rising into the gray dawn sky.
Swenmere Citadel-
The wind was cold against Zayden's skin as he stepped over the scorched remains of Swenmere's outer courtyard, boots crunching over shattered stone and blackened glass.
Ash floated in the air, sticking to the blood on Darian's gloves as he bent down to check the fallen guards.
They were too late.
Serinya Avalen, her arm in a torn sling, led them past the ruined archway. The once-proud emblem of Swenmere Citadel lay cracked in two on the floor, half-buried under the rubble.
"They came at 2:15 AM," Serinya said, voice hoarse from smoke. "We barely had time to respond before the fire hit the east wing. Then the explosions—"
She paused, glancing back with eyes filled with tired fury.
"They knew where we stored the weapons. All of it… everything we salvaged from the last Ashreign breach… is gone."
Zayden's gaze swept the courtyard, taking in the twisted steel and charred crates. His jaw tightened.
"Any survivors?"
"A few." Serinya's eyes fell. "But most… didn't make it."
Darian kicked aside a burnt piece of timber, revealing the edge of a melted rifle.
"All that planning for nothing…" he muttered, his dark eyes glinting with contained rage. "They're stripping us of every resource. Swenmere was our last cache after Ashreign fell. We needed these weapons for the other Citadels."
Serinya clenched her jaw. "We had no warning. The guards—"
"Don't," Darian snapped, standing, eyes flashing. "Don't pretend this wasn't orchestrated. This wasn't a raid. It was a message."
Ash and soot swirled around them as a breeze swept through the hollowed structures.
Zayden knelt, picking up a fragment of metal. It was blackened, the symbol of the Citadel. He brushed a thumb over it, the soot smearing under his touch.
"It's Joker," Zayden said quietly.
Serinya stiffened. "You're certain?"
Darian let out a cold laugh. "Who else systematically takes down Citadel strongholds in the dead of night, burning our resources before we can even defend them?"
A medic hurried by, helping a bloodied young guard to the triage line set up near the remains of the east gate. Evanora Watkins was there, sleeves rolled up, tying a makeshift bandage around a soldier's thigh while whispering comfort with steady hands.
"They're getting bolder," Serinya said under her breath. "If Joker could reach Swenmere, he could—"
"—reach the others," Zayden finished.
He rose, tossing the burnt metal aside. His eyes, cold and unflinching, met Darian's.
"We're done waiting."
Darian's jaw tightened. "You're calling them?"
"Every Citadel Head. Today." Zayden's gaze swept across the burning horizon, smoke climbing into the sky like black veins. "If they refuse to see what's happening, Virellan will fall before Joker even steps onto the mainland."
Serinya looked between them, her expression torn between relief and dread.
"If you call them, Zayden… you know what that means. The power struggles, the old debts—"
"I know," Zayden said, his voice calm, too calm for the burning wreckage around him. "But this is no longer about politics. Joker is dismantling us piece by piece. The only way we stop him is if the Citadels stand united."
Darian let out a breath, eyes closing briefly. "Then let's give him a reason to remember why he feared the Blackthorn Bastions."
Mackiah stepped off the gangplank, boots sinking slightly into the ash and blood-soaked earth of Grimharbor. The docks were silent now, flames crackling around the charred remains of crates meant for the citadels, thick black smoke rolling into the morning sky.
All around him, the black-armored soldiers stood in perfect lines, rifles at their sides, the insignia he couldn't recognize at first-the unknown tiger crest glinting faintly through the haze. Their visors hid their faces, but Mackiah could feel every gaze on him, waiting, watching.
"Stay behind me," he whispered to Alric, who followed closely, his breath ragged, eyes wide with fear.
The air was heavy, thick with the iron scent of blood and burnt metal, but not a single sound broke the eerie calm. Mackiah's pulse thundered in his ears, each step toward the soldiers deliberate, controlled. Then suddenly-
In perfect unison, the entire army dropped to one knee, heads bowed, fists placed over their chests with a dull thud against their armor.
The dock fell utterly silent, the crackle of fire the only sound left.
Mackiah's hand trembled, eyes scanning the field of kneeling soldiers.
"What… what is this?" he whispered. The soldiers who had just slaughtered the Virellan guards dropped to their knees, heads bowed before him.
He took a hesitant step forward. The soldiers remained frozen, the moment stretching impossibly long, thick with something that made Mackiah's skin crawl.
The Drakhal soldier with the blood-smeared visor, the one who had killed the Captain, lifted his head slowly. He removed his helmet, revealing himself to be Eron.
"No way! Eron? You...what are you-" before Alric could finish his sentence, Eron fell onto his knees bowing to Mackiah.
Mackiah was too stunned to let out any words from his mouth.
All of a sudden a line of soldiers parted, creating a path toward the end of the dock, where a single, tall figure in a long dark coat stood, hands clasped behind his back, bearing the same crest as that of the soldiers, glinting faintly on his sleeve.
The man stepped forward, boots silent against the dock, stopping a few feet away from Mackiah. His presence was suffocating, eyes sharp like frost as they met Mackiah's.
A small, cold smile pulled at the corner of his lips.
"Welcome home, son."
The confined conference room of Swenmere Citadel pulsed with restless energy as the doors swung open, allowing the heads of the six citadels to step inside one by one.
Elaris Chevalier of Valemire Citadel swept in first, her indigo robes trailing behind her, eyes sharp as glass.
Jorah Kaelvind of Drakhal Citadelfollowed, silver armor clinking with each heavy step, a deep frown carved into his weathered face.
Serinya, pale and stern tapped her fingers, her eyes flickering with unresolved rage.
Cassira Veyne of Auralhym Citadel, clad in dark green, adjusted her gloves, her gaze calm but cold.
Dazek Ivenor of Veydris, burly and restless, cracked his knuckles as he entered, scanning the chamber.
Tharek Fernsby of Zephyros, lean and quiet, slipped in last, hood half-lowered, pale blue eyes shifting.
At the head of the obsidian table, Zayden stood with arms crossed, Darian beside him, Evanora Watkins already present, watching silently.
The moment the doors closed, the questions burst forth like gunfire.
"Why this sudden meeting, Zayden?" Elaris demanded."We still have not recovered from the Swenmere ambush!" she snapped, her eyes narrowed."Your men failed to stop it!" Jorah barked, glaring at Darian.
Cassira cleared her throat, her calm voice cutting through the noise.
"While you all quarrel, I've received troubling reports from Auralhym's informants. The shipment from the Outerworld was intercepted. A gang of infiltrators, disguised as Virellan guards, took over the vessel. Now the shipment is in their control."
A tense silence swallowed the table, the only sound the whir of the projection crystals in the corners.
Zayden's ice blue eyes flickered dangerously as he exhaled softly, unfazed.
"The shipment you speak of," he said calmly, "was never on that vessel."
Cassira's brows shot up.
"What?"
Zayden's lips curved into a faint, cold smile.
"The real shipment was secretly shifted to another cargo ship, identical to 1E015, at Ravenport itself. It has been docked at Virellan Port four hours ago."
Evanora stepped forward, arms crossed.
"The arms and weaponry are already being distributed to the citadels as we speak."
Cassira's eyes narrowed, suspicion giving way to confusion.
"Then… who were those guards on the ship that was attacked?"
Darian's crimson eyes glinted under the dim lights, his voice low.
"Joker's men."
The table fell silent again.
"They stole Virellan guards' identities, hacked into the port system, and disguised themselves to seize the shipment. They pretended to be Virellan guards aboard the cargo, thinking they were hijacking our weapons for Joker."
[The men on the cargo ship in which Mackiah and Alric were on for days to reach Virellan, assuming them to be Virellan's guards were actually Joker's men in disguise. Joker instilled them into Virellan's ports to claim their shipment that contained the most powerful weapons ever designed. But Joker had underestimated Zayden.]
Dazek clenched his jaw, leaning forward.
"Then why wasn't this information shared before we sent men to investigate?"
Zayden's gaze was cold, unyielding.
"Because they had already been dealt with. By one of our dearest friends."
The projection crystal flickered to life, displaying images of the ship's deck, where lifeless bodies in false Virellan uniforms lay scattered.
Darian's eyes softened briefly, flicking to Zayden, before turning back to the heads.
"It's time we bring in a new member on board. A man you all have long forgotten. The one who personally trained the Blackthorn Bastions, built your citadels from nothing, and ensured Virellan's survival long before any of you sat on your thrones. This urgent meeting was called by him."
The air thickened, every head turning toward him.
"It is time our master returns," Zayden said quietly, his voice echoing through the war chamber.
The citadel heads exchanged uncertain, fearful glances as a cold breeze swept through the room.
"Zayden…" Serinya whispered, "you can't possibly mean—"
The massive double doors creaked open.
A cold wind rushed in, extinguishing half the torches along the stone walls. The crystal lights flickered violently, shadows dancing across the tense faces of the citadel heads.
Footsteps echoed—slow, deliberate, each step heavy with authority and age.
A tall, lean figure stepped forward from the darkness, dressed in a long black coat with intricate silver embroidery, his silver-streaked dark hair tied loosely at the nape.
His gaze was sharp, piercing, as if he could read the thoughts of every trembling leader present.
His presence was like a blade against their throats—familiar, terrifying.
Arthur Carwyn, the Master of the Blackthorn Bastions, the architect of Virellan's citadels, stepped into the light, eyes like storm clouds.
[Yes! You read that right, it's 'Arthur Carwyn', Mackiah's dad...but is he really his dad??]
All six citadel heads froze, disbelief and terror carved across their faces.
Elaris's breath caught, tears rising in her eyes.Cassira's lips trembled.Tharek fell to one knee, unable to stand under the weight of the moment.
Zayden and Darian both bowed their heads.
Arthur's gaze swept across the room, pausing on each citadel head, then on Evanora, before falling on Zayden and Darian, a faint smirk pulling at the edge of his lips.
"Looks like my students are in need of their teacher. How lovely it is to see you again!" he said, his voice cold, deep, almost amused.
He paused, letting the fear and awe settle in their bones before finishing with a whisper that echoed like thunder:
"Shall we begin?"