A few miles from the battlefield, Conrad glanced over his shoulder as he rode behind his brother, the swarm of enemy cavalry trailing them like a yellow river. They had broken free before being surrounded, but only just.

  “They're splitting into two groups!” Conrad shouted. “They’re trying to encircle us!”

  He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

  “Can we outrun them?” Lord Leora yelled back, his face twisted with anger as he urged his horse harder.

  Conrad looked back once more and fixed his gaze on a random marker on the field. He counted silently, waiting for the enemy to cross it. By knowing how long it took for them to cross it, he would be able to estimate how fast they were traveling.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  He cursed under his breath and turned back to his brother. “No. We can’t outrun them. They’ll reach us within the hour. Their horses are much better than ours.”

  “Goddess take them!” Lord Leora spat.

  Hearing his brother curse, Conrad took a deep, steadying breath. He already knew what he had to do.

  Turning to his nephew, who was riding next to him, he spoke, his words sounding rougher than he intended. “Karl, make sure you and your father reach Leora. Above all else, you must survive. No matter what. You are the heir. I’ll buy you time.”

  “Uncle, no!” Karl shouted, his face turning white. “We all must make it back! You’re too important to our family! If you are going to fight, we should all fight together!”

  “Foolish boy!” Conrad growled. “You and your father are the present and future of our House. If we all fight and you both die, our House dies.” He locked eyes with him. “This is the only way. Karl, I need you to understand. Just promise me one thing—promise me that you’ll avenge me.”

  Staring at his nephew, Conrad tried to convey the gravity of the situation to him; their eyes locked onto each other.

  For a long moment, Karl said nothing. His gaze wavered.

  “I… I understand,” he finally said, his voice breaking. “Please stay alive.”

  Nodding at Karl’s response, Conrad slowed his horse, raising his hand to signal his warriors.

  “Conrad, what are you doing?” his brother shouted, realizing they were falling back.

  “Father, we can’t stop!” Karl yelled, his voice carrying over the pounding of the horses. “Elite Guard—Do not let my father slow down! Keep moving!”

  Hearing his nephew take command, Conrad smiled.

  A good man, he thought. He’ll make a fine head of House. It’s a shame I won’t be able to see that day.

  Turning to the two hundred cavalry members under his command, Conrad drew Aether into his voice, allowing it to carry far.

  “Warriors under my command—follow me!”

  He pulled hard on the reins, breaking away from the main force, and led his warriors to a small hill. Stopping, he patted his horse’s neck.

  “Thank you, old friend,” he whispered.

  He turned to his warriors, his voice rising.

  “My brothers and sisters,” he began. “I would like to thank you all for everything you have done for me. Together, we’ve survived through more battles and wars than I can count—battles that should have broken us. Yet we are still here.”

  A cheer went up.

  Smiling, he nodded to a few faces before continuing.

  “Today, ask you to fight one last time with me. Side by side. I ask you to die with me. I feel no pity. Only honor! Honor to die alongside you. Honor to have fought beside you. Honor that I was counted as a member of Leora’s cavalry!”

  He raised his sword high.

  “My brothers and sisters! Raise your swords for our House and our Lord! Glory to House Leora! Glory to our Kingdom! And Glory to our Warriors!”

  As one, the cavalry raised their swords.

  “For Leora!!”

  Feeling chills run down his arm, Conrad took point, the Aether radiating off him enveloping his cavalry in a faint image of a roaring lion. He wheeled his horse around, pointing back towards their pursuers.

  “CHARGE!”

  The two hundred cavalry members thundered forward, howling like a beast—a massive beast made up of men and women willing to fight until their last breath. Like a crashing wave, they slammed into the enemy ranks, weapons flashing as they met their fate head-on.

  Instantly, the swords, spears, and axes of Conrad’s cavalry painted the field a deep, warm crimson, blood spraying over the green grass. The unstoppable charge of Leora’s riders tore a gaping hole within the enemy ranks.

  Driving his sword through the throat of a warrior, Conrad was the first to break through the enemy lines. He wheeled his horse around, observing the destruction he had caused.

  “REGROUP!” he bellowed, reining in as he waited for the rest of his cavalry to catch up.

  As the soldiers gathered around him, Conrad felt his heart grow cold. The remaining men and women were much smaller than he had hoped for.

  Goddess, forgive me.

  Raising his blood-soaked sword once more, he swung it forward, pointing at the enemy.

  “CHARGE!”

  He led them into the churning mess of dying soldiers, his sword moving as if it had a mind of its own. Heads fell. Bodies collapsed. Soldiers were dragged screaming from their horses. Death was everywhere. Through the madness, Conrad kept swinging, every strike of his sword taking a life, every swing buying more time for his family.

  Panting raggedly, he pulled more and more Aether into his body, stopping only when he was at his limit.

  “My Lord! Watch out for the bodies!”

  The warning came too late.

  Conrad’s horse tripped over a pile of dead soldiers, its hooves slipping as its legs buckled beneath it. He couldn’t keep it from falling!

  Cursing, he leaped free as the warhorse went down.

  He rolled, found his footing, and drove a power-enhanced kick into a charging man, sending him tumbling in front of a galloping horse.

  Striking the horse, the man tumbled across the battlefield and vanished, swallowed by the battlefield.

  Falling into a defensive stance, Conrad knew this would be his resting place.

  Exhaling all the air in his lungs slowly, he started to overdraw Aether, gaining a temporary boost in strength in exchange for his life.

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  As the power surged through his body, he felt his primal path begin to deteriorate, Aether coursing wildly throughout his body. Arcane Light erupted from him as he screamed, and he lit up like a bright sun in the center of the battlefield.

  His remaining soldiers saw him and desperately fought their way over.

  Conrad had made himself impossible to ignore.

  Dictating the flow of battle, he moved with terrifying ease. Stepping into the Stance of Speed, he invoked the Third Form: Lion’s surge. Spinning around quickly, he coated his sword in a dense concentration of Aether, the blade leaving a thick, bright line in the air. Everything around him was cleaved in two!

  Blood sprayed from his mouth as he coughed, his body screaming in protest.

  For a heartbeat, the world went silent. Then returned with a deafening roar.

  Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Conrad drew in a deep breath and attacked again.

  This time, the enemy was ready.

  A wall of spears closed in on him as the enemy started fighting as a unit.

  Hacking at the spears, Conrad tried to break out from the encirclement, but before he could, archers took up positions behind them, shooting their deadly arrows at him from between the gaps of the spears.

  Arrow after arrow flew at him.

  Conrad managed to keep the arrows from hitting his vital organs, but his arms and legs were soon riddled with arrows. He stumbled forward, barely managing to keep from falling flat on his face. His knee hit the ground.

  Using his sword as a crutch, he forced himself back on his feet. Blood dripped from his lips, his vision swimming.

  This was it.

  Gathering what little power remained, he rotated it into his legs.

  He would kill one more person—buy a little more time. It would be the last thing he would do.

  Conrad surged forward, moving faster than he had ever in his life.

  He crashed into the wall of spears, ignoring the pain as they pierced his body. Spears pierced through him and out, but he continued, the wooden shafts of the spears sliding through him until his outstretched sword finally reached the heart of a warrior.

  “I got you,” he whispered as darkness enveloped him.

  Conrad was dead before he hit the ground. The Arcane Light that marked his location vanished instantly, and with it rose a wild cheer from weary enemy soldiers. Before the cheer had even faded, an inhuman howl of grief drowned them out. The remaining forces of Leora threw aside all aspects of caution as they went on an all-out attack. Defense was forgotten as they rushed headlong into a final, suicidal assault. By the time the last warrior from Leora fell, the battlefield was covered in death, warm blood turning the hard ground into clinging mud.

  Leagues away, tears running down his face, Lord Leora led his remaining warriors in a desperate flight, the sound of his brother’s final stand no longer audible. By the time the screams of battle were just a memory, the sun hung high overhead.

  “Father, we must keep moving,” Karl gasped, noticing the pace slowing down. His face was gaunt. “Uncle Conrad won’t be able to hold them for long.”

  “If we don't rest, our horses will die,” Lord Leora replied, signaling his warriors to dismount and walk alongside their horses. “If they die, we’ll get caught.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think of that,” Karl whispered, his face flushing red.

  “It’s alright. You’re still young.”

  Leading his horse, Lord Leora crested a low hill. Despair threatened to overwhelm him, but he continued to move forward. He had to make it home; his brother had sacrificed everything for him.

  He stopped abruptly.

  For a heartbeat, he felt his heart stop, his stomach dropping sickeningly.

  On the far side of the hill stood a massive cavalry force—restless horses stamping the hard ground, men and women in burnished armor. Their uniforms bore no recognizable markings. The only identification they flew was a yellow flag.

  “There must be four hundred of them,” Karl stammered, his mouth wide open. His hand was gripping the reins of his horse so hard his knuckles turned white. “Where did they come from? Who are they? How did Lord Para gather such a large army?”

  “They carry no house banners,” Lord Leora growled as he swung back onto his horse. “They’re hiding where they’re from.”

  “What does that mean?” Karl asked, mounting his horse.

  “Unless House Apra and House Ruscell have allied with Para,” Lord Leora said grimly, “that army is most likely a foreign force.”

  His exhausted mind no longer cared who they were.

  “A foreign force?” Karl whispered. “Did Para and Bovera betray Vanura?” His voice shook with disbelief. Feuds between the Great Houses were common, but they always united against outsiders.

  “My lord!” a scout came running up to them, her eyes wide. “The pursuing army has crossed the ridge! They’ll be within eyesight at any moment.” Her words stuttered as she noticed the cavalry in front of them. “We must keep moving…”

  Cursing out loud, Lord Leora watched as the army before them slowly began to move, the rumble of hooves sending tremors coursing through the ground.

  “Father, we’ll be surrounded,” Karl said urgently, his head whipping back and studying the land behind them. His eyes narrowed as he strained them. “If we’re going to fight, it has to be now! Before they get here!”

  Standing atop the hill, Lord Leora tried to think of a solution, his mind running through multiple scenarios. There had to be a way out.

  “My Lord,” the scout exclaimed, pointing. “Someone’s riding out!”

  A long rider broke from the enemy ranks and was approaching.

  Seeing him, Lord Leora commanded, his hands tightening the straps to his armor.

  “Karl with me! They want a parley. Pillar, you are in charge of the army. Keep them close—but do not interfere.”

  Skillfully navigating his horse to a space between the two forces, Lord Leora waited as the rider approached, Karl at his side.

  “That’s a horse from Arioria!” Karl gasped as he recognized the horse. “How did he get one? The Horse Lords never sell them!”

  Lord Leora grunted in response, also wondering how the man had acquired the horse. The Horse Lords would die before allowing a foreigner to take one of their horses.

  He narrowed his eyes and studied the man. The man was massive, fair-skinned, and bald, his face unreadable. He wore no armor but carried himself with the confidence of a man who knew he didn’t need any.

  Definitely not from Arioria, Lord Leora thought. The Horse Lords were of darker complexion.

  As his gaze scanned the man, his eyes locked onto the crest at the back of the man’s neck—a leaping tigerfish, its mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth.

  “An Arcane Master…” Lord Leora faltered, shock breaking through his composure.

  “That’s impossible,” Karl shouted, his face draining of color. “Lord Hector is the only Arcane Master in Vanura! Father—have you ever heard of one bearing the mark of a tigerfish?”

  “I have not,” Lord Leora breathed, drawing a slow breath, “but this is proof enough. This army is not from Vanura.” His voice hardened. “They are a foreign force.”

  The implication sent his mind spiraling. Lord Bovera and Lord Para had betrayed Vanura!

  “Lord Leora, I was wondering when you would arrive. You took longer than I expected,” the Arcane Master said, riding within earshot. The wide smile on his face never reached his eyes.

  “Name yourself!” Lord Leora barked, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, nerves on edge.

  Seeing that his greeting had failed, the man’s smile turned cold as he reached for his sword.

  “Through battle, one’s true self is revealed,” he said calmly, his words flat, almost as if he was not used to speaking. “Allow me to judge whether you are truly as noble as they claim.”

  As the man drew his sword, an ice-cold pressure seized Lord Leora’s heart, his blood slowing down to a crawl in his veins.

  Drawing as much Aether as he could, Lord Leora rapidly rotated it around his body, melting away the feeling of ice. Grimacing as the overabundance of power started to cause his own body to shake, he drew his sword and coated it with Aether.

  I need to kill him in the first strike, he thought, readjusting his grip. I can’t fight an Arcane Master for more than a few seconds.

  As the two warriors stared at each other, their terrifying presence made the soldiers waiting at a distance grow dizzy, the waves of Aether distorting the air around them.

  Without warning, both warriors kicked their horses into motion, galloping at each other.

  Lifting his sword into the air, Lord Leora shouted mightily, his Aether condensing into the roaring form of a lion. The manifestation bared its teeth, its thunderous roar causing the soldiers on both sides to hold their breath.

  Adapting the Stance of Power for mounted combat, Lord Leora brought his sword down with all his might.

  Form One: Warlords Decree!

  As his sword struck down, Lord Leora blinked in confusion as he saw his own body from above, his blade still completing its downward strike.

  “Father!!”

  Hearing the agony in his son’s voice, he realized what had happened—he was outclassed, unable even to see the speed of his opponent's sword.

  Lord Leora's head bounced twice on the ground before his headless body toppled off his horse, the frightened animal madly sprinting away.

  “I’ll kill you!”

  Seeing his father’s lifeless body, Karl lost all control of his emotions. Kicking his horse forward, he charged at the man who had killed his father.

  Watching the mindlessly screaming heir draw closer, the Arcane Master began to laugh. He lifted his sword and swung it almost lazily.

  Following the slow swing of the sword, Karl tried to dodge, but to his horror, it was as if his body were forced into its path. He toppled from his horse, spitting a mouthful of blood as a deep, fatal slash opened along his neck. Drowning in his own blood, tears blinding his vision. He brought his hands to his throat, feeling the warm blood rush out, soaking his torso. As his vision began to darken, he heard a voice from his past—a voice he had thought he would never hear again.

  “Karl, listen to me. From now on, you will be the heir to our house. I’m sorry to place this burden on you, but I know your soul. You are a good man—far better than I could ever be. Remember to be honorable in life and in death. Protect our people, not just our family. I know that one day you will become the greatest lord in all Vanura. Take care of our sisters and father and never forget that I love you.”

  “I am sorry, brother. I couldn’t keep my promise to you,” Karl tried to say, his cut throat working uselessly as blood splattered everywhere.

  “What did you say? I couldn't hear you. If you would like to pray to Alumus as your soul passes on, I help you,” the Arcane Master said, his hands folding over his heart.

  Silence fell over the battlefield as Lord Leora and his son lay dead. The warriors of Leora dropped their weapons, surrendering as their morale vanished as if a large hole had been torn in a bucket of water. Standing there with no fight, they waited quietly while their enemies approached, took their weapons, and bound their hands. As the captives were led away, a light mist of rain began to fall, turning the world into a gray, soulless place.