Evinda held Rohmhelt's hand as they sat on a large tree stump in a secluded grove north of Eynond at a mass held by the Matiarch of Karmand, Ylrdina, to pray for their assault's success in the dark pre-dawn hours. The Empress had wanted to wear a simple white priest's robe to the mass, but Rohmhelt insisted that they both clad themselves in their full imperial regalia so as to provide a show of confidence to the soldiers as the day progressed. She relented on that point. Withdrawals crushed morale, as they both had already seen throughout the war, and a show of strength was needed to stem the effect.

It was a small ceremony with just the most senior commanders, Grand Marshal Agrehn and Marshal Kordov included, Lohs and a few other councilors serving under him, a handful of other priests, and then the lurking presence of Vorlan off in the shadow of the woods facing south. The Earth Angel promised to protect the gathering in the event any of the angels aligned with Duronaht broke their word and tried to strike at the gathering, but he also seemed interested in the mass itself.

As she lit several torches around a single skyward facing spear lodged into the ground, Yldrina sang, her old raspy voice taking on a ghostly quality in that blackest moment of the night. Only the wind sang along with her while she completed her task. She employed her building skills with the Fire Aura to cast durable flames that would endure the chilly early morning gusts. At last, she came to the ceremonial spear, a gift from the Imperial household, that bore extravagant engravings of the angels, with Forynda carved into the gleaming blade.

"Mighty Forynda, we beseech you to return to us and lead us through our struggles," the Matriarch said, reaching her hand toward the spear. She loosed a blinding white light that caused Rohmhelt to wince, but Evinda kept her eyes upon it. The spear's tip shone brilliantly, lighting the whole grove in a harsh white light that overpowered the torches around it. "The hour grows dark, our deeds grow desperate, and yet still our faith grows. We all pledge our loyalty, from this moment through the moment of our deaths."

Evinda felt the Emperor give the faintest of sighs. She squeezed his cold and quivering hand. Now isn't the time for doubts, my dear, she thought. It really isn't.

"May the High Angel watch over us this morning," Yldrina proclaimed, her tone turning to rapturous ecstasy. "Trust in her and our triumph is assured! By Forynda's grace."

"By Forynda's grace," the whole assembly answered, though Rohmhelt mumbled it out.

The Emperor almost immediately turned toward the army's leaders clustered to his left.

"Marshal Kordov," he called out, rising and dropping Evinda's hand. She would have taken offense had the circumstances been less grave. "The assault begins... when?"

The preening Marshal Kordov stepped forward from Grand Marshal Agrehn.

"I should think less than fifteen minutes, Your Imperial Majesty," he answered, smiling. "It will begin in the west and then we'll strike in the north. We'll..."

His voice became hard to hear as Rohmhelt and the officers walked off. Evinda sighed, but immediately felt the Earth Angel's presence lurk up behind her.

"You're probably thinking we're fools for praying to Forynda like that," Evinda laughed as she turned to face Vorlan. With his dispassionate stony face and mossy beard, he tilted his head back at her. "You've argued with her and disagreed with her so often, to see us..."

"Not at all," Vorlan interjected with a shrug. "Forynda is comprised of mysteries that I do not comprehend and I have known her for longer than any living entity. When the Progenitor created me, Forynda had lived in the void, which we later jointly formed into Ceuna, for a fathomless time. Her experiences, her mind, and her abilities have always been far beyond my capacity to understand and that still holds true with the Golden Aura stripped from her. There is no other like her and I join you in hoping for her return."

"I wish I could say my husband feels the same way," Evinda mumbled.

"Yes, I sensed his frustration, too," the Earth Angel sighed. "What Forynda did to Zarmand was inevitable, I feel. Centuries, millennia actually, of frustration at me and others telling her to tolerate the angelic presence in the mortal world and she was proven right. In all the times I have seen her since then, I know she is changed and changed for the better. Omonrel and his allies? They have all changed for the worse."

Evinda glanced skyward and the cloud-wreathed moons providing the weakest of light. She recalled Simel's fight with Myrvaness and feeling the raw malice pouring forth from the Wind Angel.

"You reached an arrangement with Jagreth instead of fighting him to the last," Evinda commented, prompting Vorlan to tilt his head curiously at her. "Even though you think they've changed for the worse, do you still hope anything like peace can be restored between you and them? Or that Forynda will accept reconciliation, or whatever settlement you're hoping for, after all that's happened?"

"I do," Vorlan nodded calmly.

"How?" Evinda gasped incredulously.

"Because we must," Vorlan murmured in a low rumble. He effortlessly summoned dirt from the ground into his hand in a strand resembling a string, whirling it in a circle before letting it scatter to the wind. "Because this war will destroy the entire world if it rages unabated. My kind endures forever. You have seen how much damage has been done in mere months. Imagine if it continues for one hundred years, a thousand years, or a hundred thousand years. Everything, down to the last specks of dust, will be gone. Peace is the only option, no matter how hard it may be to attain."

~

Renkyk trailed behind Galdrehln and Captain Erdinov while Galdrehln tried to strike up conversation before they reached the lines for the assault. It was impossibly dark as the order had gone out to snuff out all torches in the camps before the offensive. Even just a few paces in front of him, he could scarcely see Galdrehln and Erdinov other than rough silhouettes and the dim moonlight catching the shining silver velvet on the edges of their cloaks. The ground before them was clear enough that he wouldn't trip on anything, but that was about the only thing going for him.

"You said you come from Methrangia originally?" Galdrehln asked at one point to the captain, looking up at him like he was an eager child learning from his father. Whether he was interested in the answer or not, he certainly sounded engaged.

"Yes, my wife, too," Erdinov answered, lowering his voice while motioning downward with his hand. Galdrehln gasped and nodded. "Once the war is over, I'd like to return."

"I understand the feeling. It's beautiful, though I guess there's nothing left of Solnaht Citadel these days, huh? That was the main attraction and what a sight it always was!" Galdrehln loudly whispered, gesturing wildly with his hands to outline the massive erstwhile seat of the Empire. "I loved looking at it every time I could, imagining what life'd be like in the Imperial household."

"Well, apparently it wasn't what we were all told it was," Erdinov offered a stilted chuckle.

"Ha! That's a fact!" Galdrehln laughed back. "Working for the commander, I guess you must've known that for a while, eh?"

Erdinov noticeably turned his head toward Galdrehln.

"I never divulge matters learned in confidence, except to Commander Dastov," the captain's voice suddenly took on a harsh chill. "Ever."

Renkyk decided that was as good a moment as any to intrude and try to pull Galdrehln away for a moment.

"Captain, sir, if I may speak to my friend for a moment. I'm sure you won't mind," Renkyk said with what even sounded to him as insincere courtesy.

Erdinov turned back to look at Renkyk, the whites of his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Alright, but stay close," he commanded.

"Wouldn't dream of wandering off!" Galdrehln laughed and rushed toward Renkyk.

Renkyk immediately pulled Galdrehln close to whisper directly into his ear. Being not ten paces behind Erdinov, almost anything would be heard.

"What are you doing?!" Renkyk berated Galdrehln in the softest of whispers. "Don't try to be cute with him."

"What are you talking about?" Galdrehln protested in a soft voice.

"You're not going to convince him that we're just wonderful people and he should look the other way when we..." Renkyk decided against even saying it as a whisper, opting instead to gesture with his hand with a few quick flicks. As far as he could tell, Erdinov wasn't trying to listen in, but he didn't want to risk it.

"Hey, I thought it was worth a try," Galdrehln whispered back, anxiously laughing.

"Well, stay away from thorny subjects," Renkyk added, his murmuring barely getting past his now clenched teeth. A short frigid gust of wind battered his face, causing him to shudder. "Pointless banter, sure. Anything that seems like you're trying to pry? No. Anyone Dastov trusts isn't going to be that careless."

Galdrehln, seemingly unbothered by the cold wind, gently rubbed Renkyk's back.

"Don't worry. I've got this," Galdrehln smiled, patted Renkyk on the shoulder a few times, and began to push away to return to Erdinov's side.

Renkyk thumbed his amulet while Galdrehln returned to more idle topics with the captain. His thoughts turned to the moment he unleashed the Silver Aura's tendrils on Gorondos, scraping away pieces of the Fire Angel's skin.

"Mmm... Yes, that was amusing," Nethron's echoing and distant voice rattled in his head. "I never cared terribly much for Gorondos. The only one of us who may have thought less of him was Forynda. Unfortunately, he will back soon, in any case."

"What do you mean?" Renkyk asked, that being one of several questions that popped into his mind after hearing Nethron's voice. "Do you mean now?"

The Aura Liberator didn't say another word for some seconds, leaving Renkyk to fret while he watched Galdrehln continue his fruitless efforts to befriend Captain Erdinov.

"Hrm, now... That is a difficult thing for me to determine given where I am, but it did feel soon. Glimpses of the future were not something I terribly understood even under, shall we say, better circumstances," Nethron's wispy and ethereal voice spun in Renkyk's head. "But you need not worry, my good Renkyk. I have seen glimpses far in the future... though I suppose on the chance that Simel is wrong about the inevitability of such things, I should leave those alone."

"You sound pleased," Renkyk said, smiling. Nethron loosed an airy laugh in response. "I'll take that to mean I'm getting closer to finishing your work on the Silver Aura."

"Finishing... Finishing... That is a definitive word," Nethron chuckled, portions of his laugh swerving into a near maniacal cackle. He then paused and let silence settle in for a few seconds. "I wish you a safe morning."

As Nethron's voice subsided, Renkyk could hear the unmistakable clanking of innumerable suits of armor as Emperor Rohmhelt's forces prepared for their assault. Erdinov and the two mages cleared out of the small patch of forest to see moonlight glinting off the armor and weapons of some thousands of troops massing behind wooded hilltops to the south. Without the drums, horns, and banners it was an eerie display. To his considerable dismay, Renkyk saw a thin line of mages, recognizable by their shimmering cloaks, positioned furthest south.

"Well, there we are," Erdinov said, glancing at Renkyk and Galdrehln. "We'll have the honor of opening the attack and, based on the angle of the moons, that'll be momentarily. Remember the Commander said. Don't even think of leaving."

Renkyk's legs quivered. He reached out for Galdrehln's hand and clasped it. Both of their hands were sweaty and cold and both buzzed in terror. He looked to Galdrehln as they walked together just behind Erdinov.

"We won't die here," Renkyk assured Galdrehln, squeezing his hand. He didn't even care that Erdinov was listening. "We have too much to do."

~

Duronaht stayed up late into the early morning hours in his command tent reading the latest letter from the Empress. She began the letter with the more mundane news, including Ardnaht's recovery and growth. The beastly arm Jagreth created for him after he lost his arm in the assassination attempt apparently grew along with the rest of his body. Duronaht breathed a relieved sigh at that news.

He came to a portion of the letter where Torhess crossed out what she started to write several times. Eventually eschewing lengthier and more elaborate language, she wrote simply "My malady has returned, but its progression is slow. You needn't worry. I have no doubt that you will find a treatment as you did once before." He put the letter down at his desk and swigged from a gilded cup of tart red wine to his right.

I'm glad she has no doubt, he fretted, wiggling his fingers. I don't think it's so easy to bring Nethron back and no one else seems to understand it.

As he stood from his desk to stare at a map on a table to his left, Omonrel floated into the tent with Grand Marshal Vildrious at his side. The Grand Marshal, dumpy man that he was, at least wore his dark red and green Grand Marshal's uniform with the pride it deserved and Duronaht was glad for that. Omonrel looked the same as ever, his crystalline blue eyes gleaming with palpable intrigue.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Vildrious began and then cleared his throat, "I hope that we're not disturbing you at..."

"Just spit it out," the Emperor hissed. "I'm tired and I don't want a long briefing."

Vildrious froze, but Omonrel floated forward with a finger raised.

"Your brother is on the move this morning. I sensed something was happening and I took the liberty of examining it myself. Sure enough, I think he means to attack you north and west," the Sculptor said, his silky voice masking the importance of what he described.

Duronaht breathed deeply folded his hands behind his back.

"He's trying to escape. I knew this would happen, but I thought he'd wait longer," the Emperor grumbled, biting his top lip with his bottom teeth. "He's not as stubborn as he used to be."

"And from the presence I felt of the Auras, I surmise that he means to employ his mages to aid the attack," Omomrel continued summoning a floating smooth black stone in his left hand.

"Grand Marshal Vildrious, send the order out right now. All of our mages to our positions in the north and west. We'll thwart him. We've got two mages for every one of his and ours are better," Duronaht commanded, glaring at the Grand Marshal.

Vildrious bowed and clicked his boots together, but then hesitated on leaving, raising a finger.

"Right, Your Imperial Majesty, but again, weren't we planning on using the mages here in the center for a bombardment of Eynond just after dawn?" the Grand Marshal barely managed to overcome his transparent surprise.

"Yes, we talked about that last night, but drop it. This is more important. I'll handle the center anyway. Thank you," Duronaht spoke quickly and flicked his right hand to motion Vildrious out of the tent. The Grand Marshal immediately complied and began shouting for messengers as soon as he left.

Omonrel maintained a gaze on the Emperor once they were alone.

"You're wondering what I meant about the center?" Duronaht laughed and smirked.

"I am, actually," Omonrel's ivory face rose in a broad smile.

"It's time for you to throw some bridges across the river for and for Gorondos to unleash everything he has on Eynond without any delay. No toying with them this time. I've had enough of that. Just hit them before they have a chance to react," Duronaht growled.

Omonrel's eyes widened.

"Your Imperial Majesty, we have a tenuous truce after those previous clashes and I worry that this might cause Cyrona to feel that we are breaking our word."

"That was between Cyrona and Parlon and Vorlan and Jagreth. I don't remember you or Gorondos making any such promises," the Emperor angrily riposted.

Omonrel shrugged and his crystalline eyes flickered.

"Cyrona has never been one to be so precise about these things."

"I don't give a fuck about what Cyrona is going to do!" Duronaht shouted. Omonrel remained unfazed, his eyes staring blankly at the Emperor. "Trust me on this. Just do it. And do it right now."

Omonrel squinted his eyes and turned his head to glance out the tent.

"Should I wake your army before I begin?" he queried and smirked.

"No, leave that to me. They'll be ready to cross by the time your bridges are down. Summon Gorondos, though," Duronaht said, realizing he had no idea to where Gorondos had gone off. "He needs to know my plan. By the way, he's healed up from his injuries, right?"

"Not entirely, but he did tell me that he found a way to amplify his powers without elaborating as to how," the Sculptor grinned. "I am sure he would like to demonstrate for you."

"I look forward to it," the Emperor chuckled. "That'll be all."

"Of course, Your Imperial Majesty," Omonrel said with the slightest of bows. "I will be on my way."

Just before Omonrel floated out the tent, Duronaht cleared his throat to gain the angel's attention.

"And don't bother with stealth. I want brother and his men to hear what we're doing. I want them to worry that this has been our plan all along."

The Sculptor smirked and nodded again before departing.

Alright, Brother, Duronaht thought while taking a deep breath, let's see if you can keep up with me.

~

The mages' approach to the top of the wooded hilltops attracted no response from the enemy forces massed in camps along the Walsan River. Renkyk was one of the the poor souls tasked with observing Duronaht's encampments and, like the others chosen, he crawled up on his belly to the hill's crest. He mourned for his robes and how hopelessly muddy they would become, but those were the least of his problems.

Once he reached the summit, he found himself between two large thick trees and having a limited view of the enemy position. What he saw was enough, however. There were tents for some tens of thousands of men crammed together along the riverbank. Makeshift lookout towers were raised along the perimeter of what had been the previous day's battlefield, or so Renkyk understood it. With the enemy guards walking back and forth not a few hundred yards away, he recoiled backward after only a few seconds. Others near him also pulled back and signaled to the commanders behind them that it was time to move forward.

The whole line of what Renkyk estimated to be two hundred mages lightly moved toward the south. There was no uniformity to how Emperor Rohmhelt's mage corps dressed. Some had staves, some had elaborate knives or swords, while others apparently cast with their bare hands or an amulet such as the one he used. Galdrehln, who was in the squad approaching closest to Renkyk, refashioned his staves seemingly every other week. He had now settled on a slick silver staff with an azure orb on top.

"Keep your attacks to the left," Captain Erdinov instructed the mages nearest him. "We're going to try drawing their forces to the left and right, voiding the center for Kordov's men to attack."

"Got it," one of the mages near Renkyk said, drawing his jeweled blade.

"And we settled on charged water spheres for our opening barrage, right?" Galdrehln asked, whincing.

"That's right," Erdinov answered. "Those who can't do either, fire will do nicely. For those who can, vary between those that'll go along the ground and those shots that will go airborne. Maximize the enemy's confusion. And remember, avoid hitting the center. We want them thinking that we're flanking them. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" the mages on the left flank all answered in hushed voices.

"Good, get to it," Erdinov commanded and almost all the mages departed, save for Renkyk and Galdrehln. Galdrehln tried tugging on Renkyk's robes, but Renkyk stayed where he was. "Is something the matter with those orders?"

"It's just that I don't have any mastery of lightning, water, or fire," Renkyk conceded. "If you have a suggestion as to what I..."

"The Silver Aura has plenty of power to destroy," Erdinov interjected. "Just imbue the water spheres your friend conjures and see what happens. I suspect that when they burst they'll be just that much more devastating."

Renkyk thumbed the amulet around his neck as Erdinov gave his order.

"He is right about that much," Nethron's voice wisped through Renkyk's mind. "You have demonstrated that yourself before. I know you have your reservations, but do it. I see no other way out of this for you."

"I'll do that. Thank you," Renkyk mumbled and went off with Galdrehln to the hilltop to begin their attack.

They didn't have to wait long. On the right flank some hundreds of yards westward, a single bolt of fire shot across the darkness into the westernmost guard tower, blasting the flimsy structure to pieces and leaving its occupants rolling on the ground screaming in agony.

Renkyk swallowed hard as the calls roared up in the enemy camp. "To arms!" "We're under attack!" "Wake up! To battle you lazy fucks!" and countless others, followed by blares of horns and the rustling of tens of thousands of men preparing for battle. Galdrehln thwapped Renkyk on the leg with his staff to get him to pay attention as Galdrehln and one of the other mages prepared their shot.

Galdrehln opened several bottles of water from his reagent pouch and formed a large smooth sphere of water at least six feet wide. Another mage, a thin blue-skinned Caylanchan man, quickly imbued the sphere with a heavy blast of lightning, causing the water to sizzle and pop as the bolts twisted in the water.

"C'mon, Ren!" Galdrehln shouted. "Do your bit."

Renkyk lightly stepped closer and held out his amulet as he saw other teams of mages launch their spheres either skyward or down along the ground. Crackling spikes of flame sailed through the air into the other guard towers along the line, exploding and sending flaming chunks of wood high into the air. Renkyk held out his amulet toward the sphere and closed his eyes to clam his nerves amidst the chaos. The presence of soul many departed soldiers' spirits traveling to the Communion of Souls gave him as clear a sense of the Silver Aura as he ever had.

"I know you have your... misgivings using the Silver Aura in this way, Renkyk," Nethron's voice rumbled in his head. "But you are without any choices here. This is the price of continuing on."

"You're right. And so I have to do it," Renkyk answered Nethron and loosed a pulse of the Silver Aura into the electrified water. He opened his eyes to see the iridescent argent light coursing through the sphere, drawing a gasp from the Caylanchan mage assisting Galdrehln.

"Alright, let's send this off," Galdrehln laughed, biting his lip.

He and the Caylanchan mage pointed their staves toward the massing enemy lines near the encampments. The water sphere, alight with yellow bolts and argent tendrils, sailed through the air as smoothly as a catapult shot would. Whether because they adhered to discipline or because they simply didn't see the threat, the massing enemy forces underneath it never bothered to move.

Just over those men's heads, the sphere burst open, releasing the twisted arcs of lightning conducted across the water into dozens of them. They shook and screamed where they stood before falling to the ground. Those struck by Renkyk's argent tendrils suffered a far worse fate. While Renkyk couldn't see it precisely at that distance, the men appeared to simply fall apart, their skin sloughing off and their bones crumbling to dust. Vagaries of the Auras he didn't understand allowed him to even feel traces of what those men endured. His stomach and heart twisted in knots as he contemplated it.

"That was... horrible," the Caylanchan mage with them muttered.

Erdinov stepped forward from behind the group, his hands folded behind his back.

"War's a terrible thing," he said dryly, observing the other mages' shots across the line while Marshal Kordov's forces behind the hills sounded their horns for the main attack. "You shouldn't like this. No one does, no one you would care to talk to, at any rate."

Renkyk shook his head mournfully, causing Erdinov to grimace.

"Prepare another shot," the captain ordered. "It was effective and we'll need more that."

Then, Renkyk noticed a massive burst of fire miles to the east in the direction of Eynond. It stretched hundreds of yards into the air and was accented with dark chunks that Renkyk feared may have been pieces of Eynond's wall.

"What?!" Erdinov gasped.

A series of dozens, maybe even hundreds, of flames lit across the rear lines of Duronaht's forces along the river. After a mere second, the fiery bolts launched in their direction, a seemingly uninterrupted line of flame.

Renkyk and Galdrehln stood with their jaws agape.

"You might want to prepare yourself for this one," Nethron's voice warned. "Now."