Epilogue

A cavern of shadow stretched before the Harbinger, Deimos, as he lumbered through its maw. His four legs left no sound, his blue glowing eyes left no light in the darkness. A mark decorated his back, a mark of his power. The air thrummed with a low wail, the floor gleamed black as if carved from the night itself. Red eyes flickered as the shades scattered before him. Their feral, mindless forms skulked at the edges, their snarls a chorus of chaos.

At the far end, a throne loomed. Made of a stone that mirrored cruel obsidian fashioned from cruel screams of the despairing. On it sat a figure cloaked in darkness, her very presence a heavy shroud that bent the dark around her. Her eyes opened as a smile curled on her lips. She stood with a triumphant glee as she took a step down and Deimos knelt, claws grasping the ground, head bowed to the ruler he’d served for nearly a millennium. The Empress of the Night, a little sister who had become this ruler when their mother’s vengeance descended all those centuries ago.

“Welcome home, Deimos,” she said, her hands outstretched and her eyes showed that malicious grin. He shifted, taking on his human form before her, making her smile widen as her eyes narrowed.

He bowed more deeply as her eyes glowed purple, her mark on her forehead pulsing with power.

“For three nights you waged war, and you come back like this?” she teased, the smile disappearing from her eyes and mouth. Her hair shifted at her anger, like tentacles ready to grasp him.

“Three night I have toiled,” he rumbled, voice thick with a buried sting. “Yet Sal Shefa still stands, my lady. I’ve failed you again.” Her shadows began to become alive, moving with her hair like a demon’s hand. She descended the final stairs, and then her sleek fingers glided to his chin and forced him to look up. The silence held until she rose and danced back to her throne, a maniacal laughter, cold and with that glee twisted into menace. “Oh, Deimos, don’t tell me that Bard’s still playing his little tunes?” she glided to the throne, shadows slithering with her every emotion.

Her generals knelt around him, rising from the shadows as she summoned them. Five accounted for, her betas: a catfolk shade, amber glowing eyes glinting smugly; a birdfolk shade, robed, golden eyes peering from the shadows; a deep-sea merfolk, teal eyes shimmering; a Dryad shade, evil green eyes flickering with malice, shaded Elder tokens swaying; a human husk, gray eyes hinting at his deep cunning and intellect. Each a trophy of her conquests.

“Tell me everything,” she purred, her voice a velvet taunt, reaching across the distance. “How’s this speck dancing in my design?”

Deimos’s eyes flickered. “First night, my grunts swarmed, but on the second I led them, with sharp tactics, and broke their walls. On the final night, I had the storm shades strike with hail, lightning and floods, but this Bard held them off. His woman faltered, though. I imagine something’s off.”

Her grin widened, a devious curl that echoed her cunning and long wisdom. “A song once again stalling my tide? Go on. What’s he made of?”

“They call him Bard,” Deimos said, his tone gruff, laced with reluctant awe. “He stood on the wall and played a melody with those Elders he gathered, and had sunstones that were of the sun palace. Despite sending our new forces, he remained steady. My storm shades faltered to the Seraphos, and my strongest were frozen.”

“For the last several hundred years you gained the moniker from those humans, Harbinger,” the catfolk shade sneered, her lithe form appearing distinctly. “And now this is the second time a human stopped you in our untouchable conquest.”

The merfolk rose next, his sides lighting up like the monster of the deep that he was. “Our seas swallowed those fools who tread too close. He’s nothing against the storms,” his voice rasped.

The Dryad’s green eyes narrowed, tokens clinking. “I know him. I tried shading his woman’s forest once. He drove me off, saved those dryads for Sal Shefa. His tune’s still weak. It won’t last.”

The human shade towered, playing with strings of shadow, ignoring the development.

The birdfolk rose, robes shifting, drawing their attention to the silent survivor.

“He is too entwined with our next targets. As they shade, he will come out of this stronghold to save them. It’ll draw him near.”

“You know this for a fact?” the empress asked, her lips pursed with a delicious smile. The bird bowed, returning back to his silent self they knew. The empress’s laugh reverberated around before softening to a chuckle, her eyes glinting with a wicked glee.

“That tree will be the last one then,” she began to come amongst them and they bowed once more. Seven hundred years they had spun this war. All those races broken by her will, continents crumbled. Only a few pockets remained now, and they were snuffing them out one by one. Her eyes glowed once more as she released her shadows, her hair coiling around her generals. It was all as she had willed it. Erasaphim’s sun palace would be next, his suns would finally belong to her. Sal Shefa was a snag, but Bard was becoming the perfect prize.

“He’s fighting despair with everything he’s got. Let him think he’s won. We’ll give him peace, a perceivable peace. Let him build something fragile. Then we’ll take it. Imagine him shaded,” her voice cackled as she stepped in front of Deimos. “He may be tougher than these betas, maybe even you, Deimos. What a delicious catch he’d be.” Deimos kept his head down, knowing that would be unlikely, though if Bard did become that powerful then it would only help them with their next objective.

“This is just a ripple,” she said, slinking back to her throne, settling on it with a cold grin and commanding presence. “A shaky village, smaller than the nations we have taken. He’s kicking up dust when my night’s falling into place.” She pointed a talon at Deimos, her tone sharp. “He’s beaten you three times now. Hurt’s doesn’t it?” Deimos remained silent, a hand clenched. She smirked, a sister’s jab with a mother’s edge. “And you, my precious bird, which tree is he most tied to?”

“The one just west of the Calinden range.” The birdfolk shade stayed lowered, his voice flat and guarded. “He’ll come if we strike along the northern edge and make our way south.”

“Perfect,” she cooed, her delight chilling. “We have all the time. Wait for him to have some peace. We’ll give him four years. He’ll build a family, and his despair at the loss of this family will break him.” She had crushed kingdoms. Bard was little more than prey, but his resistance promised power. Grunts fell fast to the sun, and Betas could withstand it. The prospect of another tool to use against those accursed beings in that palace of light only made her more delighted. “I can’t wait to hear what song he has to play at the very end. Erasaphims’ children will be mine next. This ‘Bard’ is a treat, I’ll turn into a glorious warrior of the night.”

Okay. Is this working better? Hello everyone. Uh.... ya. That happened.

Well. Like normal... hardly anything about this is normal. (Sigh) Where is Anjur? He was supposed to show up at the beginning of this Arc. And what is this epilogue.... Oh....

I guess. This concludes this arc. Oh dear.

Arc/Book 9 begins soon.

-oh dear-

-Laurel R Call

P.S. I've drawn the empress... you can check that out if you want... (shiver)