REDEEMED

Before me stood my children.
Alive, very much real and as such, it became a CATACLYSMIC alteration to my quest.
Guarding them was a demoness whose power and allegiance were unknown.
Her masked face didn't particularly help her trust factor either.
As if that wasn't as mind-boggling, my companions faced us with their weapons drawn, their faces a mixture of shock, confusion, and the most PRIMAL sense of distrust I've ever seen.

"Arda," Tulote growled.

I could tell that his training, and his concern for me were warring within him.

"Step away from the demon. Let us secure the children."

"She's not a threat," I said.

I stood from my crouch, placing myself squarely between my friends and the demoness.

"She saved them. When I couldn't, I don't know what merit that's worth to you, but I pray its merit finds you lot."

Xerta took a half-step forward, her knuckles white on the haft of her hammer.

"Saved them from what? A trick? A demon's bargain? They don't give gifts, Arda. They only take."

It was Cassandra who broke the impasse.
She slowly lowered her rapier, her head tilted as she studied the Veiled figure.

"Her demonic energy... it's different..." she said. "The demons we fight are like wildfires, all rage, and hunger. She's controlling it somehow? But there's something else... there's purpose to her power, and a sort of deep sorrow. Why a demon as powerful as her have such sorrow is beyond me."

My children, huddled behind me, were the only argument that mattered.
Their presence was a direct violation of the promise me and the cosmic beings shared.
Dietha had changed everything.... and only with a mere illusion.

One thing was certain, however.
My war was no longer for a world or a promise.
It was for them, the small, trembling hands that clutched at my tunic.

"There's no time for this," I said. "The battle is still raging. The First Company is still trapped. My children are exposed. The only sanctuary on this entire mountain is Kaelen's Peak. We get them there. Now."

I looked at the Demoness.

"I don't know who you are, or why you're here. I know it is immensely foolish of me to trust you with my children but, you protected them once. Will you help me get them to safety?"

The masked helm dipped in a single, affirmative nod.

Tulote accepted this reality quicker than I had anticipated.
I guess duty comes above all.

"He's right," he declared, "the children are the priority. All other objectives are secondary. We form a moving phalanx. Xerta, you and I are the vanguard. Arda, I know I need not tell you this, but your task is to protect your children and use your power to mend our defences as we move. Cassandra, you are our eyes and our flank. Eliminate threats before they reach us."

He paused, his gaze resting on the demoness.

"You. You are the rear guard. Nothing gets past you. Nothing touches those children. Do we have an accord?"

Another silent nod.
The most unlikely, tension-fraught alliance in the history of the Imperium was forged in that cold mountain air.

Our descent was a controlled, but brutal plunge into the chaos below.
The demonic horde, leaderless since the Herald's death, was a disorganized, raging sea of bodies.
They had no strategy, only a collective, furious impulse to kill.

Tulote and Xerta were magnificent.
Tulote's Flamma was as an inferno, while great shields of rock erupted from the mountainside to deflect massed attacks.
Xerta, as usually, didn't bother with finesse.
She was a whirlwind of pure, crushing force.
Each impact from her hammer shattered chitinous bodies and sent demons tumbling down the steep slopes.

I moved within the pocket they created, a father first and a hero second.
My children clung to me, their faces buried in my coat.
Little Izacc was sobbing, and I could feel Iriam trembling uncontrollably.
My heart ached, but I had to be strong, for them.

I used the Gladius to weave the threads of Order, reinforcing Tulote's stone walls, subtly twisting the ground beneath a charging brute's feet, and mending small cuts and bruises sustained.

Cassandra and her rapier darted from the shadows to eliminate demonic captains who tried rallying their troops, or creating an illusion of a rock slide to divert a flanking party.

And at our back, the Demoness was silent, as she had always been. 
Her twin blades moved in a defensive motion.
Her style was brutally efficient, but not quite at Xerta's level of bare-boned efficiency, as there was still finesse to be found, but utterly devoid of the hateful rage that fuelled other demons.
She never initiated an attack.
She only moved when a threat breached our perimeter and came too close to the children.
It was as though she was conveying a message with her movements.
If I had to guess, it felt like a You will not touch them, moment.

The tension between my companions and our new ally was a palpable thing.
Xerta fought with one eye on the enemy and one on the demoness, ready to bring her hammer down on either at the slightest hint of betrayal.

That moment came when a hulking, six-limbed demon, a creature of immense power, broke through Tulote's guard, its sights set on the most vulnerable part of our formation.
My children.
It charged.

I moved to intercept, but Xerta was faster.
With a roar that was part fury and part terror for the innocents behind her, she threw herself directly in its path.
Her hammer met its charge with a deafening crack, but the sheer momentum of the beast drove her back, her boots skidding on the loose rock.
She was being overwhelmed.

Before I could act, the demoness moved.
She phased past me in a blur of midnight blue and appeared directly beside Xerta.
She placed a hand on Xerta's back.
A current of controlled, chaotic energy flowed into the dwarf.
It wasn't a healing power, but rather, a transference of pure, focused strength.

Xerta's eyes widened behind her helmet.
With a final, earth--shaking bellow, she put every ounce of her own strength, now amplified by the demoness's power, into a single, upward swing.
The hammer connected with the brute's chin, the impact lifting the massive creature off its feet and sending it tumbling back into the horde.

Xerta stared at the Demoness for a long, stunned moment.
The distrust was still there, but it was now joined by an immense, grudging confusion.

We fought our way down, a desperate, bloody yard at a time.

As we neared the valley floor, we saw them.
The gates of Kaelen's peak had been thrown open, and the First Company had charged.
It was a sight of breathtaking, terrible glory.
Two hundred thousand solders, their imperial steel and discipline, crashed into the disorganized demonic horde.
At their head was a man on a massive warhorse, his armour scarred and battered.
General Kaelen.

Our arrival was the final, decisive blow.
The sight of the Lord Regent, the Hero and the Elven Queen, appearing from the mountain itself, sent a roar of renewed hope through the Imperial ranks.
The demonic horde, caught between the First Company and our own charge, finally broke.
What had been a battle became a rout, the demons scattering in every direction, pursued by the vengeful steel of the liberated army.

We finally broke through the last of the demonic lines and were met by a phalanx of the General's personal guard.
They formed a protective circle around us, their spears held firm, though their eyes were wide with awe.

General Kaelen himself rode up, dismounting from his horse.
He was a man whose face had seen a hundred battles, his gaze as hard and unyielding as the fortress he commanded.
He ignored me, Cassandra, and even the demoness.
His eyes were fixed on Tulote.
He dropped to one knee.

"My Lord Regent, you are a sight for a weary old soldier's eyes."

"Rise General. The day is yours. You have held the line."

"We have held the fortress, my lord," Kaelen corrected. "You... you have brought us the victory."

We were escorted into the mighty fortress of Kaelen's Peak, the cheers of the soldiers echoing off the colossal stone walls.
My children, wide-eyes and terrified but safe, were immediately taken by a team of medics to the infirmary.
I watched them go, my heart was relieved, but the fear returned. 
A new, worse fear.

They were safe for now, but they were trapped here, in a world at war.

Later, in the smoky torchlight of the General's war room, the reality of our situation settled in.
The victory was absolute, although the losses were immense.
Of the 200,000 men, 56,790 had died, and another 20,000 were wounded or unaccounted for.
Such is the cost of war.

All eyes, Tulote's, Cassandra's, Xerta's, and General Kaelen's turned to the demoness, who stood silently in the corner of the room in her dark armour and controlled Chaos.

I stepped forward, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

"I don't know your name, but you saved my family. You saved my entire world. Thank you."

For the first time, she spoke.
Her voice was filtered through the helm, a strange, electronic resonance layered over a tone that was both ancient but surprisingly familiar.

"Dietha has broken the laws of creation. She has violated the sanctity of world, a line that cannot be uncrossed."

The masked helm turned slowly.

"She seeks to unmake everything. I will see her unmade first."

She took a step forward, out of the shadows.

"My name is of no consequence. My past is ash. All that matters is the path forward. My path is now your path."

.

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.

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The First Company was free.
The Neoth Range was secure.
But as I looked at the faces of my companions, and at the silent mask of the demoness who had inexplicably bound her fate ton ours, I knew the war had fundamentally changed.
It was no longer a quest to save a dying world, nor to save myself of my ailment (albeit that still existed, but was secondary).

It had become my fight. 
A father's desperate, impossible fight to protect his children.
And all this, with the help of a demigod lord, a queen, a blacksmith, and a ghost from a past I couldn't begin to comprehend.