Renkyk walked through the halls of Eynond's citadel, which were strangely empty. It was as though the entire garrison had vanished overnight. He wore only his nightgown. No boots or shoes on his feet, nor a weapon at his side. Each step fell uneasily as he was unsure the floor would be there when he stepped on the cold stone. Why he had this concern, he could not rationalize.

There was, at the hall's opposite end, a single lit room where a strong iridescent argent glow spilled out into the hall. The faintest shrieks and screeches bounced along the gray stone walls, sounds that felt far more distant than they were. They tickled Renkyk's ears as would a feather. At times, they pierced deep into his skull and rattled about.

"Finally, some real progress," a familiar and yet strange voice skittered out of the room as he approached. The argent light pulsed powerfully, blinding him for a few moments.

As he neared the doorway, one instinct told him to not round the corner and look inside. A competing pull, a far stronger one, told him to do just that. While a voice in his head told him not to, he gave in to the curiosity and entered.

He instantly recognized it as Dastov's chamber. The place of some things was wrong compared to his last visit and the chamber seemed, on the whole, larger. None of that mattered with the astonishing display on Dastov's table.

Dastov, wearing black and silver robes, stood over an infant's lifeless body with blindingly bright silver tendrils dripping off his fingers. The tendrils danced around the infant while Dastov maintained an intense gaze, not noticing for a moment that Renkyk had entered the room.

Renkyk approached, his hands shaking with trepidation. The whirring he so often had heard in the Communion of Souls built to a deafening crescendo. A dull pulse shook the room as the silver light flashed.

"There," Dastov muttered, his voice existing by itself while Renkyk was momentarily blinded.

An infant's cry, tortured and distorted, called out from the table. It sounded as though it were far away, deep in some valley. Yet, it was also thunderously loud. Renkyk stared into the flashing argent pupils of the child as it screeched.

"So you see, Renkyk, I have mastered what you never could," Dastov said with a smirk, glancing up from the risen child. "I don't have any need of you anymore."

Renkyk began to respond, but then an overwhelming wave of silver light raced through his body, causing it all to crumble to dust.

He shot awake, almost tumbling out of bed as he lurched to his right. He saw Galdrehln sleeping in the chair to his right, somehow undisturbed by the Renkyk's gasps and rustling. When he saw the empty wine flagon next to Galdrehln, suddenly that made more sense. Renkyk did his inebriated friend the courtesy of gently wiping some dried red wine residue from Galdrehln's chubby cheeks. This didn't interrupt his friend's drunken slumber in the slightest.

Renkyk backed away and watched Galdrehln continue to sleep in the room's weak light. Both of them had been so tired from the events of the prior day that they had not even bothered to put out the candles on the opposite wall before collapsing for the evening. Renkyk decided to do Galdrehln the courtesy of blowing out the candles and putting a light blanket over his friend to ward off the chilly autumn drafts sweeping around Eynond's citadel.

As he stood, he took a moment to listen to the sounds around the citadel. There were unusual late-night drills in the courtyard, part of the frantic efforts to increase the number of men under arms for what promised to be a major battle at Eynond against Duronaht's advancing armies. Within the keep itself, it was a quiet night. His sleep so disturbed by his dream, Renkyk decided that he would walk the halls and try to settle his mind back down before returning to bed.

After carefully opening the door so as not to make too much noise, Renkyk lightly stepped out into the hall where an absurdly bitter gust greeted him. He momentarily hopped into the air in shock. Something more than my nightgown might have been a good idea, he ruminated.

Quickly, those thoughts dissipated as he saw a light on down the hall in the small study that he often used for his work. While it was not his exclusively, as many of the mages in training dwelling on that floor used it as well, it seemed odd to him that anyone would be there at such an hour. In fact, he knew most of the mages had been sent to meet up with the main army.

A click, the click of a cane, shot around the doorway as he neared. Dastov! The commander was hardly the only one in the citadel who wielded a cane, but his made a distinctive sharp click that couldn't be mistaken for anyone else. Renkyk's mind would never let him confuse it with another's. At first, he paused, considering whether he should continue on into the study. Coming so soon after his dream, it seemed unwise to speak with Dastov. Conversely, Dastov might have heard Renkyk out and about and would have found it suspicious if Renkyk went back to his room.

No, the dream couldn't have been a premonition. This isn't his chamber. It isn't the same, Renkyk assured himself. With a deep breath, he stepped around the corner and into the study.

There, facing the door, was Dastov seated at the study's central table glancing over several pieces of parchment. He was dressed in an unusual robe, a green and white puffy garment, that Renkyk surmised must have been the commander's casual attire. After seeing him in formal Methrangian military garb every prior encounter, this sight was a minor shock.

"Good evening, commander," Renkyk said as quickly as he could. "You had trouble sleeping as well?"

Dastov, his beard cut shorter than Renkyk had last seen it, glanced up from the table, the candlelight warmly illuminating his otherwise chilly demeanor.

"Ah, Renkyk," he mumbled. "There's something that I'm waiting to hear about. Something that I set in motion in the capital."

"Methrangia?" Renkyk queried, surprised to hear any reference to it given that it had fallen to Duronaht.

"Is there another one?" Dastov retorted with a smirk as he leaned back into his chair.

"I thought you might be referring to Karmand, the Emperor's old throne when he was king, but I..." he started, but Dastov interjected with several shakes of his head.

"No. I don't recognize that Methrangia is no longer ours," Dastov sighed. "Much as I've focused on this project of ours, the one I share with you, I still maintain my agents all across the empire. There's something I wanted to do, something I thought would greatly shorten the war. That's provided it's successful. I know you're going to ask what it is, but my business is secrets. Always has been."

"But you don't know how it's gone?"

"I will tell that much," Dastov smiled. "No, I don't know. The way I arranged things, I should be receiving a messenger some time tonight or early in the morning."

"That's a precise window, given how far Methrangia is from here," Renkyk commented, almost in disbelief at Dastov's certainty.

The commander nodded and then made a welcoming gesture toward Renkyk.

"Please, sit down," he requested. "Now, I'm curious why you're awake."

"Bad dreams," Renkyk sighed as he took to the sturdy dark wooden chair opposite Dastov. "I assume you've had nightmares that make it hard to go back to bed."

Dastov pressed his lips up to his nose while he squinted at Renkyk.

"No, I can't say that I have."

"But surely something about your family, your children would make you anxious enough to have a nightmare?"

"What makes you think I have children?" Dastov queried, his eyes narrowing further.

The image of Dastov resurrecting the infant in his dream seared into his eyelids, Renkyk tried to think of something else that would have given him that assumption.

"I just thought a man of your stature would have taken to continuing the family line. I'm wrong?" he asked nervously.

"As it happens, yes. Yes, you are," Dastov coolly answered. "I'm married, but my wife and I have never been blessed with children. Given my position, it's probably for the best. I'm sure you wonder why. That's a simple matter. My children, were I to have them, would be targets for my enemies. A man in my line of work has a great many of them. I can better serve the Emperor without such a distraction."

That assertion proved a great relief to Renkyk. It meant his dream must have just been some flight of fancy instead of a glimpse of the future.

"I understand," Renkyk replied. He quickly glanced down at the sheets of parchment, many of which appeared to be orders of battle or some other manner of logistical listing. "And all of this?"

Dastov motionlessly stared at Renkyk, who dared not break the lock of the commander's gaze. Those vacant, yet intense, eyes surrendered virtually no information.

"The war is coming to Eynond," Dastov said. "I know that you know that. Everyone knows that. Actually, that was why I wanted to speak to you tomorrow morning. Now will have to do instead. I know that we've focused on the Silver Aura as a means of restoring the slain. Obviously that's a great advantage in war if your casualties mean nothing. But you and I both know very well we're a good long way from that."

"I've been trying my utmost, but..."

"I know," Dastov interrupted. "Leave that for the moment. We'll get back to it. In the meantime, I'm more interested in the other side of the Silver Aura. Its power to destroy living things is beyond any other Aura. I know you know how to do it and I want you to train some mages in how to use that part of it. Your, um, friend, Galdrehln, should be good at that as well."

Renkyk caught himself gasping at what Dastov said. He suppressed his instinct to lash out at the commander for focusing on something so unworthy.

"Our deal was not to study the Silver Aura to turn it into a glorified bow or axe," Renkyk calmly protested.

Dastov's brow furrowed.

"Deal? My men captured you and you ultimately had the good sense to collaborate and work with me. There was no deal," the commander snickered. "I serve my Emperor and he needs help right now. Either you can aid me in that or I can determine you're no longer useful to me. After all, you've given me enough. With time, I can figure out the rest."

"Do you really think you can?" Renkyk smirked with forced confidence.

"I've run risks before. I'd be more than prepared to run this one," Dastov angrily retorted.

For a few seconds, the Renkyk exchanged a silent glare with Dastov, but they were interrupted by knocks on the open door. A winded, mud-splattered man with a tattered blue cape stepped into the chamber.

"Commander, I didn't know you would have..." he started, struggling to catch his breath as he glanced at Renkyk.

"You have word?" Dastov muttered, his lips tight.

"I do and..."

"Go on, then," Dastov grumbled, motioning toward his left ear. "Renkyk, you stay there."

The messenger stomped around Renkyk and leaned toward Dastov's head, putting one hand over his mouth as he delivered whatever news he had. Dastov's eyes darted from the right to the left as he listened. He then shot a panicked look right into the messenger's eyes.

"Unclear outcome?!" he gasped.

With a couple of steps, the messenger backed away.

"Yes, sir," he mumbled back.

"You're dismissed," Dastov said after a short pause.

Once the messenger stomped out of the room, Dastov looked back at Renkyk with his hands folded.

"Well, I suppose I should tell you now since word of this will travel one way or the other," he sighed heavily. "What I was waiting for was word of an attempt to assassinate Duronaht."

Renkyk jolted in his seat.

"You... you tried to kill him?" he asked.

"Yes," Dastov smirked. "I had heard from my agents that he was getting careless with how he went around the capital and thought I had a chance. If you have any questions about who my agents are or anything like that, don't bother. Point is, if he's dead, we'll know soon. News like that would travel in a hurry. News of his survival, if he's alive, will be pretty quick, too."

"You don't know what happened?"

"Of course not. I wasn't there. All the messenger told me is that the carriages flipped and Duronaht was severely wounded. Beyond that, no one knew by the time he left the capital," Dastov explained casually. Then he grimaced. "If he survived, though, that means this battle for Eynond will be that much more wrathful. He'll be looking for revenge. If that's the case, I need you and the Silver Aura to defend this city. If you refuse me, I'll probably figure something out, but you won't be around to see it."

There was an earnestness to what Dastov said that caused Renkyk's skin to prickle. Trusting Dastov was an instinctual exercise for Renkyk. In this instance, he had absolutely no doubt as to Dastov's sincerity. Renkyk reached into the pocket near his waist on his nightgown to run his thumb over his amulet. Dastov's eyes glanced at the motion, but the commander otherwise didn't respond.

I'll never have another chance. This is it. I've got to escape tonight, Renkyk's thoughts raced through his head. It must be now!

Without delay, he summoned the Silver Aura to surge forth and strike down Commander Dastov. The argent tendrils reached toward the commander, who only flinched slightly. They screeched and twisted, striking an invisible barrier before skittering off to the sides of the room and then evaporating. Renkyk, exhausted from drawing upon the Silver Aura, drooped in his chair. He shook violently considering what fate Dastov would have planned for him.

"Oh, don't worry, Renkyk," Dastov smirked. "I anticipated you would try that at some point. Why wouldn't you? I'm holding you against your will. You want to escape. Killing me was probably your only way out. Fortunately for me, you're not the only skilled wielder of the Auras I consult. Another one taught me how to protect myself. Wards, they call this technique. Auras used to defend against other Auras."

"I..." Renkyk started breathlessly, but Dastov shook his head and began speaking over him.

"You are forgiven this once. I'd have tried to do the same thing in your position and I respect that," Dastov's smirk faded and his gaze became markedly more hostile. "Try that again, though, and your death will be so horrible that they'll hear about it from the swamps of Donod to the mountains of Osilintis. 'Renkyk' will be associated with something so terrible that the very mention of your name will cause hardened soldiers to vomit. Is that understood?"

Shaking and on the verge of crying, Renkyk nodded.

"Now, go back to your chamber and get some sleep. You have work tomorrow and I expect you to start early," Dastov grumbled and waved Renkyk off.

Feeling dizzy from his terror, Renkyk pushed his hand against the smooth stone walls of the keep on his way back to his room. He couldn't believe that he failed. Dastov didn't seem to be in possession of any knowledge that would protect him. Worse, he wondered if Dastov might change his mind at any moment and inflict that unspeakable horror upon him and Galdrehln at any time.

Once he got back to the room, he saw Galdrehln awake, but barely moved from his chair.

"Where were you?" Galdrehln blurted, half his face illuminated by the moonlight coming in the chamber window. With the candles out, that was about all Renkyk could see. "Did you have to take a piss?"

"N... no," Renkyk stammered as he approached his bed. "I... I..."

"You look like you saw something damn awful," Galdrehln commented and stood to assess Renkyk. "You're scared! What're you scared of?"

Renkyk turned to his friend, his face stinging as he fought back tears.

"I tried to kill Dastov," he mumbled.

"YOU WHAT?!" Galdrehln screeched. Renkyk motioned for him to keep his voice down.

"I failed. He knew I'd try and was ready. He called it a ward," Renkyk explained, his voice a touch calmer. "He wasn't even angry. That's what scares me."

Galdrehln shoved his hands into his thick hair and spun around in a circle twice.

"Ren, that was fucking stupid! What're we going to do now? What'd he tell you?!"

Renkyk bit his lip and fought back another pulse of tears. He kept thinking about Dastov's threat.

"I think so long as we do what he tells us, we'll be fine for now," Renkyk nervously answered. "I hope. We should just go to bed."

His mouth still agape, Galdrehln glanced at Renkyk's bed and then back at Renkyk.

"It's a bit chilly tonight. The blanket you gave me was nice, but do you think you can spare some room?" Galdrehln asked, a nervous smile forming on his face.

That thought made Renkyk's body shake. It was something he wanted and yet was staggered to hear it.

"It might be the only way to salvage this awful night," Renkyk said. "I'll be glad to share it with you."