The journey north was a different kind of battle. The fight against the horrors of the desert had been replaced by a grueling war against distance and time. But a change had taken hold of the company. The despair that had haunted their steps since Qar-Teth had been replaced by a quiet, fierce resolve. The victory of the Kingsblood Moss, a victory of knowledge, skill, and cooperation, had become the philosophical core of their fellowship.
From her position at the head of the column, Commander Eva watched this new dynamic unfold. They were no longer a broken collection of individuals. They were a hardened, efficient unit. They moved with purpose. Captain Malik, supported by a staff but growing stronger each day, now helped Finnian with scouting. Praxus was no longer just a scholar; he helped with camp duties, his mind clearly working on the implications of their new hope. Hanna was their heart. There was a new sense of cohesion.
After weeks of hard travel, they finally crossed the unmarked border back into the southern reaches of the Kingdom of Aethel. The landscape softened, the harsh red rock giving way to the familiar, rolling hills of the Heartland. But the peace she associated with her homeland was gone. They passed farms with fields left fallow, and villages where the people peered from behind barred doors, their faces filled with a deep, weary suspicion.
They were still fugitives on a secret mission. They were wary of Royal Guard patrols who didn't know who they are, and especially of Covenanter sympathizers who might be anywhere.
They were making a cold camp one evening in a hollow, hidden from the main road, when Finnian, who had been scouting the perimeter, suddenly reappeared, his movements silent and urgent.
"Riders," he whispered, gesturing to the north. "A dozen, maybe more. Moving fast. They're carrying steel that glints like Aethelburg's forges."
Instantly, the company was on high alert. Eva positioned her small force behind a rocky outcrop, swords drawn, arrows nocked. They were a veteran unit now, their movements a seamless dance of silent preparation. They waited, their hearts pounding in the twilight quiet.
The riders came into view. They were not bandits, nor were they a chaotic Covenanter war party. They were a disciplined contingent of the Royal Guard, their armor coated in road dust, their horses lean and tired. They were flying the specific banner of a King's Messenger.
They were not a threat. They were a lifeline.
Eva stepped out from behind the rocks, her hand raised. "Hold!" she commanded, her voice ringing with the authority of her rank.
The lead rider, a veteran sergeant with a scarred face and steady eyes, reined in his horse, his own men immediately forming a defensive circle. He stared at Eva's ragged, travel-worn appearance, his eyes filled with suspicion.
"I am Commander Eva of the Aethelburg Wardens," she stated, her voice leaving no room for doubt. "And you are a long way from the capital, Sergeant."
The man's eyes widened in disbelief, then filled with a profound, exhausted relief. He dismounted, dropping to one knee. "Commander," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "We had given you up for lost. We have been patrolling this border for a month, on the King's desperate hope. I am Sergeant Corbin. I carry a message for you from King Valerius himself."
He produced a sealed scroll case from within his tunic. Eva broke the King's seal, her hands surprisingly steady. In the fading light, with her small, battered company gathered around her, she read the King's words aloud.
"Commander Eva," the letter began. "Your survival is a spark of light in a darkening world. Aethelburg is secure, but the Purge was a costly victory. Ouen's escape has spread his poison far and wide. The kingdom is fractured, and our reports suggest the other nations fare no better."
"But the silence from our neighbors has finally broken. They are bleeding just as we are. The isolationist clans in Karak are being challenged. The merchant-princes in Zahram fear a collapse of trade. The tribes of Verdane are beset by new, dark creatures born from the shadow of Qar-Teth. Their fear has finally outweighed their pride."
A palpable excitement began to build in Praxus's chest as Eva read the next line.
"I have sent out the Great Summons. I have called for a Council of the Sundered Sky, to be held in Aethelburg in three months' time, to forge a global alliance, the first in the history of our people."
"Your original mission is a failure, but the intelligence you carry is now the foundation of our entire world's hope. I am no longer asking you to stop a prophet in the desert. I am ordering you to come home. Praxus, your theories on the 'Chorus' must become the founding doctrine of this new alliance. Finnian, your knowledge of sailing a starless world is a skill all our navies must now learn. Hanna, your expertise on unnatural poisons and your resilient spirit must be taught to a new generation of healers. And Eva, my Commander, I need you at my side to help me forge a single army from a council of suspicious, frightened kings."
Eva's voice thickened as she read the final lines.
"We have learned from Covenanter prisoners of the battle in the aqueducts and the heavy price your company paid. The names of your fallen soldiers have been inscribed on the Palace Wall of Heroes. Their sacrifice will not be in vain. Come home."
A profound silence fell over the company, broken only by a soft, choked sob from one of the sailors. The weight of their failure, the grief of their losses, had been lifted and replaced by something new: a purpose. Their journey, which had felt like a desperate, lonely flight, was now revealed to be the most important mission in the world.
Eva looked at the faces of her company, no longer a band of fugitives, but a royal delegation returning from the heart of the darkness. Sergeant Corbin and his men, their new escort, looked at them with a reverence reserved for heroes.
The long, lonely road home was now a path to a new kind of war, a war to be fought not with desperate skirmishes in the dark, but with diplomacy, with knowledge, and with the collective, defiant hope of a world finally ready to fight back.
---
The Chronicle of the Fallen
Time Period Covered: Approximately Days 251 through 270 of the Age of Fear
Victims of The Reaping: 6
Victims of the Covenant: 215
Deaths from Ashen Attacks: 322 (Ashen hordes are now becoming the primary military threat in the southern and western territories)
Total Lives Lost: 543
Of Note Among the Fallen:
— A charismatic Duke in the southern province of Aethel, a known rival of King Valerius, assassinated by Covenanter agents, destabilizing the region.
— The entire mining expedition of the Stonehand Clan in Karak, wiped out by an Ashen horde.