XII

Orlagard, Arak's Kingdom 

Deep within the stronghold of Orlagard, in a dimly lit locker room, a cluster of Arakian warriors huddled over a cluttered table. The single silver bar on each of their arms, denoting their rank, was the only thing distinguishing one man from the next in their plain, black Arakian Legion uniforms. Each man carried an identical weapon: a ruthless-looking scimitar hanging from his belt. They bickered loudly, exchanging empty threats as they eyed the collection of objects spread across the table. Finely carved candelabras, glittering mirrors, and other expensive trinkets—clearly looted from a wealthy home—were objects of great desire for soldiers who possessed little more than their skill with a blade.

The door crashed open, and the haggling died instantly. A towering Elf strode in, followed closely by a man with silver hair. The soldiers fell silent, whirling to honor their commander.

The Elf's green eyes narrowed as he surveyed their disheveled forms, his gaze finally landing on the table of spoils. He gave a curt nod. "I will pretend none of you were here arguing over prizes you have no right to, on one condition: you all leave now, silently."

The soldiers exchanged perplexed looks, surprised by this uncharacteristically lenient penalty. With a deep sigh, the Elf gestured with his left hand. A whip of pure force lashed out, sweeping the loot from the table and sending it scattering out the still-open door.

"Go," he breathed, his pupils dilating threateningly. The men scrambled after their loot, offering hasty salutes as they fled.

The tall Elf sighed again, slumping into a chair at the now-empty table. He turned a concerned eye on his companion. Kael looked disoriented, his amber eyes slightly unfocused and his arms clasped protectively across his chest.

"Kael," the Elf began, "we need to get you suited up and into some training sessions with the Sensei. He's a skilled mage who can help you control your dragon powers. I understand how that much power can be difficult to manage. I…" He trailed off, remembering his own recent experience with the Lumen magic. He had needed all of his self-control to keep the foreign power from overwhelming him. He could still feel its echo in his chest, a dazzling light and warmth that was entirely alien to him. Such a pure energy was unnerving; it almost frightened him.

Now, Kael was looking at him with a more alert expression. "Your name," the silver-haired man muttered, lowering his arms to his sides. "Your name… is…" He paused, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

The Elf rose. He'd been through this routine every few hours with the troubled Kael, whose memory fractured whenever the Dragon's influence took hold, leaving him adrift on currents of pure instinct.

Haken offered a wry grin and extended a hand. "The name's Haken. Arakian Legion Special Forces commander." Kael flinched, eyeing the offered hand with suspicion. Haken withdrew it, waving dismissively. "Never mind. As I was saying, I'll leave you with this uniform." At a wave of his hand, a nearby locker popped open and a uniform drifted out. "It's magically tailored to adjust to the wearer's body, so it will fit." Kael stared, his expression a mask of hazy confusion as his gaze shifted from the uniform to Haken. Haken sighed, a smirk playing on his lips as he backed out of the room and sealed the door behind him. "You'll figure it out. Good luck, O mighty Dragon."

The sarcasm in his voice was lost on Kael, muffled by the heavy door. Besides, the man was too preoccupied admiring his new uniform.

Ensuring the chamber was secure, Haken strode down the corridor, glaring at the soldiers who were still squabbling over their recovered loot. Greedy fools, he thought, rolling his eyes as he considered what he would report to the Queen.

The fortress's dark gray crystal, even darker carpets, and utter lack of ornamentation exhausted most of its inhabitants. But Haken was at ease in the stark environment. Still, after more than three days in Orlagard, he found himself missing the oppressive silence of the forest. He moved swiftly, his wrists clasped firmly behind his back. His thoughts drifted from the stark contrast between this crystal fortress and the demolished Sovereign City to a far more distracting topic: a certain blonde who had occupied his mind since their meeting at the ball. Her innocence and trust were incredibly fascinating—an odd quality for someone so recently thrust into a strange and frightening world. Someone has to keep her safe.

The thought stopped him in his tracks. His brow furrowed, followed by a wave of anger at himself. She was a valuable asset to Princess Calista and her Sentinels; he knew they would protect her. Besides, he knew she was an Aether Mage, more than capable of taking care of herself. Growling at his own weakness, Haken strode angrily the rest of the way to the throne room. As he reached the enormous crystal doors, a vision flashed in his mind: the blonde beauty and her near-identical sister, looking frightened, trapped, and in danger.

Haken occasionally experienced such visions, though they were rarely clear and not always precise. Still, this one concerned him. He froze again as Queen Kyreth's authoritative voice sliced through the door, and he instinctively turned toward the nearest escape route.

"Haken, do not even think of returning to Oria until you have reported. I know you are concerned for the Fated. As you should be. They are in dangerous company."

Slightly humiliated that his Queen had overheard his most private thoughts, Haken pushed the doors open with a flick of his power and offered a halfhearted bow. Standing by the large window beside her throne, the Queen of Arak gazed out over her country and, beyond it, toward Oria. Haken crossed the throne room, his distaste barely concealed as he inspected the guards, offering terse advice on their posture and attire. By the time he reached the throne, Kyreth had turned from the window and was idly caressing a red tele-sphere in her lap. It glowed dully, holding no image. Her eyes were closed, and Haken could tell she was searching for something within. Used to waiting for her to emerge from these power-induced trances, Haken sighed and leaned against the enormous armrest of her throne. He didn't want to dwell on the thoughts swirling in his mind. Developing some half-formed attraction to the blonde Fated Mage would only complicate things. Besides, Kyreth would likely kill him if she discovered he was nursing a schoolboy crush on an asset of her mortal enemy, Calista of Oria.

After a few tense moments, Kyreth's eyes snapped open. The sphere in her lap glowed a vivid crimson, displaying an image of the Sovereign City's devastation, where the few survivors were beginning to assemble. Haken tensed, stepping closer to observe their progress. He hadn't intended for the man to cause so much damage, though he knew Kael struggled to contain himself in his dragon form.

Kyreth shook her head, her beautiful face a mask of mixed regret and satisfaction as she ran her fingers over the sphere. The scene shifted to a small camp near the treeline bordering the Orian Forest. Haken recognized them instantly: the Sentinels, preparing to travel with their precious Fated. Kyreth looked away from the sphere, meeting his gaze directly, and Haken felt a familiar tingle run down his spine.

He never showed it, but her focused stare always made him uneasy. It was a sign of weakness, and as her foremost assassin and Special Forces commander, weakness was not an option.

"Haken," she said simply, "I watched your battle with those Sentinels." He remained still, slowly crossing his arms as he waited, knowing she had more to say.

She brushed a lock of chocolate-brown hair from her eyes and sighed. "It seems we are also dealing with a very powerful Pyre Mage. Furthermore, your energy has changed. A rumor is circulating that you are the Lumen Mage. How true can that be?"

Haken sneered, unsurprised that Kyreth already knew about his newfound Lumen magic. Her little tele-sphere allowed her to see almost anything she wished. He turned away before she could read the confusion in his thoughts. "Kyreth, please. I understand how strange it is for a Shadow Elf to wield Lumen magic, but I am only half-Elven." He was the Lumen Mage, though he had no idea why. The situation grew more complex by the hour.

"Well, aside from your impressive new magic, what else do you have to report? How is Kael?"

Haken began to pace slowly around the throne, choosing to ignore the mockery in her tone. "Kael is stabilizing, but it's clear the dragon spirit within him is straining against his control."

Kyreth interrupted, and Haken turned to scowl at her. He detested interruptions. "Yes, the Dragon senses the dangers around it. It can sense the intentions of those—"

Haken cut her off. "Yes, yes, I know, Kyreth," he said. He trailed off, a flicker of excitement in his eyes at the prospect of Kael in a mech battle, his dragon powers unleashed to their full potential. "A very keen spirit. However, I believe a focus crystal will help him rein in that untamed power, at least until we can get him into a mech. Once he’s trained as a pilot, he’ll be able to channel all that power, that rage, and that bitter sadness into combat. I believe he’ll prove a very useful asset. Yes, very useful…."

Kyreth cleared her throat, giving him a look that conveyed her stark disapproval.

Haken threw up his hands with a grunt. "What, Kyreth? What now?"

She rose, sweeping past him with a rustle of her skirts to take her seat upon the throne. "I just don't think putting him into battle so soon would be wise. He needs to be protected from the enemy, not thrown at their feet."

Scorching rage prickled Haken's skin. He turned his back on her to hide his reaction. He offered a stiff bow. "Whatever you say, Your Highness. I live to serve." He then turned and strode swiftly from the throne room.

Kyreth watched him leave, silently fuming at his impudence. He was a formidable warrior and a powerful mage, but his rebellious nature and volatile temper made him difficult to control. She sighed, her gaze falling hesitantly to her tele-sphere. The Fated were on the move. They were heading for the forest fortress of Everwood. And she knew the perfect place for her forces to intercept them.