Part 1

“Slow down. Slow down.” Kyburn said, raising his hands to Henry who looked frantic but excited.

“Look at this.” Henry shoved the book toward Kyburn with the pages open to one in particular.

Kyburn raised an eyebrow and took the drawing book from Henry, careful not to tear any pages. Looking down at the drawing Henry had pointed out, Kyburn’s face turned to one of confusion and uncertainty.

“Is that…?” he trailed off.

“The Vog. I think that is Felkuru in the drawing, according to Erik’s description of him.” Henry explained.

“Who is the man in the picture?” Kyburn asked.

“I’m not entirely sure but… I think that is King Armin.” Henry said, eyes wide.

“Armin…” Kyburn whispered. “You think Felkuru and him knew each other?”

“Not only knew each other but I would go so far as to say they fused. Like Erik has fused with Felkuru.”

Henry watched Kyburn’s face turn to realization. “I think you may be right. Look here.” he pointed to parts of the surrounding sketch. “This is the mountain we passed coming to Riqun. Felkuru and Armin were here in Kligira.” he paused. “This-this can’t be right. We need to wake Erik.”

Erik had been asleep for two days now, unconscious and unresponsive. The seizure had been more severe than his last, far outweighing the pain and strain his body underwent. Henry wasn’t entirely sure he would even wake.

“That’s not all. There’s something else.” Henry said while taking the book back from Kyburn’s hands and flipping several more pages forward. “I found something very odd and quite frankly… terrifying.” he handed the sketchbook to his lord.

His reaction this time was one of confusion and dread, “Are these those creatures you spoke of on our way to Xerixes? What did you call them?”

“Prawlers.” Henry answered. “There are only a few rumors and perhaps one confirmed sighting, according to Gus’s research but this tells a different story.”

The picture was of a dozen men fighting alien-like creatures on a hill. Black charcoal represented the Prawlers whereas the white, men. Long arms, short legs, and small bodies gave the creatures a near monkey-like form. Their heads however were like a worm’s, jaws full of teeth lining the inside of its throat and mouth. Henry shuddered at the idea of being bit by one, though seeing this picture sent a shiver down his spine, he couldn’t pull his gaze away.

“Someone drew these pictures, my guess would be Armin himself but it could be any number of scholars. He obviously was working on awakening the Ancients for some time, how close he was to figuring it out, I don’t know.” Henry said. “Trygve would know but I thought I’d come to you first, maybe wait for Erik to wake up.”

“So you should.” Kyburn frowned. “We still don’t know Kligira’s role in all this and we don’t know why that book has pictures of Vog and Prawlers in them.”

Kyburn and Henry froze as the door to their room opened, revealing Hazam and Trygve. Both had a look of suspicion. Trygve’s gaze fell to Armin’s sketchbook.

“I assume you have seen what that book contains judging by the looks on your faces?” his voice was calm and collected.

“Trygve.” Kyburn squinted. “Do you have an explanation for this?” gesturing to the book.

“I do, actually. Allow me to explain while we walk.” Trygve said, aiming his arm to his left, wanting them to come with him. “Erik is awake and has requested we all meet together. He says it’s urgent. Let’s not keep him waiting shall we?”

Henry brightened from the news of Erik’s state, though honestly, his curiosity toward Trygve’s explanation intrigued him more.

“Very well.” Kyburn sat up, ready to follow him. “Explain on the way.”

Trygve took the lead while Hazam took up the rear, making their way to Erik’s bed-chamber where he recovered from his seizure. “I will start by saying, our king was a dedicated and honorable man. His intentions were true and just, the work he did was frowned upon by some. Temporarily ignoring his enemies would eventually lead to his unfortunate death. Armin’s need to save his people ultimately lead him to his own death, whereby wounding Kligira to the very core.” Trygve said over his shoulder as he walked through the maze of the castle. “He foresaw a great evil that would destroy this world and he took measures to prevent it. The Vog, as I’m sure you saw in the drawing, made a deal with our king, one which would combine our knowledge and bring about the end of our true enemy.”

“You knew,” Henry said. “You knew Erik fused with Felkuru.”

“Armin had a similar ailment, though none so severe as Erik has. I don’t know the cause of why it affects him more than Armin but I assume it differs from person to person.” Trygve responded.

“Armin fused with Felkuru?” Henry asked, shock written all over his face.

“Indeed,” Trygve said slowly. “However, Erik does not seem to possess the ability to communicate fully to Fel. Do you know why that is?”

“Erik said it would have killed him, so Felkuru stopped during the fusing before it did and in doing so, it seems, hindered his ability,” Henry explained. “Has Felkuru or any other Vog come back here?”

“No. I’m afraid after the death of Armin, they never returned, seeing the death and destruction humans can inflict on one another,” Trygve said sadly. “They have most certainly made themselves known now, however.”

“But why now?” Henry asked. “Why would they show themselves now?”

“They sense it coming, I suppose.” Trygve’s voice turned dark. “Armin couldn’t stop it and now… we may face it alone.”

“Face what?” Kyburn chimed in. “What evil are you speaking of?”

“You saw it. In the picture,” he said.

“The Prawlers?” Henry guessed.

“No… well yes. That name was given to them by humans. Their true name is Thrak.” Trygve hesitated for a moment. “The Thrak are not of this world.”

“Where did they come from then?” Henry instantly asked.

“Not even Fel knew, though Armin asked many times,” Trygve said. “The Thrak’s origin is a complete mystery I’m afraid.”

“In the picture.” Kyburn started. “There were soldiers from Xer, Vulkira, Tykin, and Kligira fighting against these… Thrak. Have we fought them in the past?”

“No. That is not a picture of the past, rather… of the future.” Trygve stopped this time, turning to them with a serious voice. “As I said before, a great evil is coming and there is not much time. Why do you think I was so quick to have you come here?”

“We assumed it was because of Xerath’s power and influence over Kligira,” Henry murmured.

Trygve’s eyes glinted with annoyance, “Perhaps, but that was not the only reason. When Xerath reached out to us, in the hopes of finally awakening the Ancients, I jumped at the opportunity, though I was surprised they sent someone so… young.” he looked down at Henry. “We need your help and if Armin’s vision is correct, we will need all the kingdoms to defeat the Thrak when they arrive.”

“Vision?” Henry looked confused. “What vision?”

“The Ancients are our only hope now.” Trygve ignored the question which put a worried Henry into a deeper state of stress.

“And the Vog?” Henry frowned. “What about them? Are they evil or will they fight the Thrak?”

“I cannot speak for them,” Trygve said simply. “Fel has his own plans. With us or against us, I do not know but he will not stand by idle and do nothing, that I am for certain.”

“Hazam, will you retrieve the book from the ruin.” Trygve said. “You know the one.”

“Yes, Regent.” Hazam bowed and stalked off another path, disappearing around a corner.

“The picture with Armin and Felkuru, was that the past?” Henry didn’t know for certain.

“It was. That was a recreation of the moment Fel bonded with Armin, connecting their minds.” Trygve retrieved the sketchbook from Henry and pointed at the drawing. “That right there was the moment Armin saw into Fel’s mind and all his past memories. He spoke of that moment often, where his life changed forever.”

“It makes sense he wanted to draw it then.” Henry shrugged. “He wanted to remember such a moment at that. I’d love to see a Vog up close.”

“You may. In time.” Trygve said. “Come, Erik is waiting.”

With that, Trygve fell silent as he led them through the castle, which still seemed like a maze to Henry.

Coming up on their destination, Trygve knocked on Erik’s door several times until he called for them to come in. He looked very tired but he sat up in his bed when they entered his room. They each found chairs, sitting around him.

“How are you feeling?” Henry asked. “Do you still have a headache?”

“I am much better, thank you.” Erik smiled at Henry’s concern for him. “I’ll be back on my feet in no time.”

“That one was much worse than last time… wasn’t it?” Kyburn said, resting his chin on one arm.

Erik paused, unsure how to respond to that, “Yes. I saw more than I normally did though.”

“You said you had something urgent to speak about?” Trygve asked. “You saw something?”

“Yes, I did indeed.” Erik smiled slightly. “It’s still coming in waves but memories keep coming gradually along with images.”

Henry was eager to share what Trygve spoke of earlier but he let Erik speak, waiting for him to say what he felt was urgent enough to bring them here.

“I saw another Ancient, male. He was with Felkuru somewhere.” Erik began. “I think he is trying to wake him up like we are trying to do here.”

Everyone around Erik, winched, thinking of Trygve’s earlier response to Fel having his own plan. If he had an Ancient in his possession, who knew what he or both of them might do. Erik didn’t notice their response, as he was looking down at his arms as if they were foreign to him.

“Not only that, there was a man. Here in Riqun. He was standing over a table, doing something that I couldn’t make out.” Erik said slowly, remembering gradually. “I think he knew how to open the pods to the Ancients and he had something to do with Felkuru as well.”

Trygve shifted in his chair, drawing Erik’s attention, “What is it?” he asked.

He gazed back at Erik, hesitating. “I believe the man you saw was Armin.”

“King of Kligira? That Armin?” Erik asked in disbelief.

“Yes…” Kyburn sighed. “I think you need to listen to what Trygve has to say.”

Part 2

“Oh,” Erik said. “So I’m not the first to fuse with a Vog?”

“Armin and Fel had a special bond, it was strong and their minds were fully synced. However, that did not stop him from being murdered.” Trygve said, Kyburn noticing the use of his words. Murder was a jibe at him personally but Kyburn ignored it.

Erik seemed to feel inadequate from being weak but in reality, it had nothing to do with his own strength. “This is a lot to take in. The Thrak are from another world? The Vog have their own plans to save Isulia? I find it all hard to believe but… I do have an unexplainable connection with a creature thousands of miles away so I suppose anything is possible.”

“Believe it,” Trygve said. “You may be our only hope in getting the Vog to aid us with what comes next.”

“What is coming next exactly?” Kyburn asked skeptically. “We have never even seen the Thrak, so how do we know they are real?”

“They are.” Henry supported Trygve’s theory of the creature's existence. “There is little information, granted, but legends come from somewhere. Previously they were thought to be fictional beings of the past, but with the books, I’ve read and what Trygve says, it adds up to something at least.”

“Henry is right,” Trygve said. “They were thought to be mythical creatures but I assure you they are very real. Armin saw them in his vision.”

“You still can’t say for certain,” Kyburn said stubbornly but made a good point. “We are supposed to take the word of a dead man and believe he saw it all in a vision?”

“I saw general Brynd and his army being slaughtered in one of those visions.” Erik countered. “And we both know that turned out to be true. I am not dead yet. I believe what Trygve is saying is true. For some time now I have been feeling a sense of urgency from Fel and a sickening dread as if a shadow was lurking in the background.”

Henry looked around the room and when everyone stopped speaking he jumped to his feet. “Erik. Take a look at this book. It was Armin’s before he died.”

“Thank you.” Erik took the book gently into his hand. “I don’t know what you think I’ll-”

Erik was cut short by a loud bell ringing the alarm. It pierced their ears as it rang and echoed through the castle.

Trygve stood to his feet, followed closely by Kyburn while Henry was already standing. All three made for the door, unsure what was going on. Erik looked like he was going to say something but didn’t.

“We’ll be right back,” Kyburn said. “Henry? Stay with him will you?”

“But I want to-” he started to protest.

“Son. Stay.” Kyburn said more forcefully. “We don’t know what’s out there and I want you in here to protect Erik if anything happens. Close the doors behind us.”

“Yes, sir.” Henry submitted.

They ran out the door, leaving him behind with Erik who was already looking through the sketchbook. “Henry?” he whispered. “What is this?” his voice growing dark, realization sweeping over his face.

Part 3

Kyburn rushed behind Trygve, the older man running slower than he’d like but he kept behind him, relying on his knowledge to get through the maze-like castle.

“It’s the ruins,” Trygve said, his voice sounding desperate. “Someone has infiltrated us.”

Shouting from soldiers down the hall let them know they were not alone when entering the ruins. Trygve gestured for Kyburn to go ahead of him, as they caught up to several soldiers rushing down the steps into the caves. Kyburn sprinted past Trygve and shoved his way past two guards and lept four steps at a time down into the dark tunnel.

It was dark and moist which nearly made him slip and fall several times but Kyburn kept his footing and rushed to the door. Upon rounding the corner he saw a dozen men, lying on the ground, dead. His gaze immediately focused on a man in black clothes, a black mask covering his face along with a hood.

At the corner of his eye, further down the cave, he saw figures disappear into the darkness. Moving to block the remaining enemy inside, Kyburn stood in the doorway.

There was smoke pooling on the roof trying to escape as a large fire burned in the middle of the room. Red lights flashed as smoke and heat from the fire alerted everyone of the danger. The hooded man looked up at him as he threw the last book into the fire.

Kyburn’s stomach sank as he realized what was fueling the fires. He had burned all the books, notes, journals, and every paper in the room.

“You cannot stop this.” the masked man yelled at him. “Whatever you do you will fail. I have already destroyed your last hope.”

Kyburn silently drew his sword and rushed the man, ignoring the pile of bodies surrounding him. Spots on the floor were slick with blood and he mentally noted where each body lay as to avoid any misstep.

“I see your friends have left you behind.” Kyburn prodded.

“They are fools. I have no need for them.” the man countered.

Taking a step forward, Kyburn lunged toward the saboteur swinging his sword down with all his might, trying to split the man in two.

As if he were playing with a child, the masked man sidestepped the blow with ease, then backhanded him across the face. The force from the slap was so hard, Kyburn nearly flew to the ground from the impact. Instead, he backstepped with the force and kept his balance, readying himself for another attack.

“I don’t have to kill you,” he said behind his mask. “My mission is complete. Let me leave.”

“You will not leave this place alive.” Kyburn spat blood from his mouth. His upper lip, bleeding and swollen from the strike.

“So be it,” he whispered, his mask muffling his voice.

He flew toward Kyburn with lighting speed, coming at him with a fist raised. With all his might, Kyburn jerked his head aside, narrowly missing his face. A glint from the man in black’s left hand indicated a dagger, which Kyburn backstepped frantically to dodge.

The cold steal swiped an inch from his stomach, nearly gutting him like a pig. His head pounded as the adrenaline kicked in, enhancing his senses and speed. The attack didn’t stop, however, an instant later the man’s right fist came up for another blow.

His movement wasn’t human, it was too fast and strong for any ordinary man. Black clothes flapping behind him, he lept straight for Kyburn. This time, Kyburn lifted his sword ready for a thrust. The instant he was close enough, Kyburn jumped straight into the punch but shoved his sword into the man in black.

His head was struck so hard, he saw stars and his vision dimmed. For an instant, Kyburn thought he had landed the blow to his chest but a moment later he realized the man in black’s shirt had been cut, missing him entirely. Agonizing pain shot through his right hand and his nose as he saw his sword being flipped through the air and being caught by the man in black. He had dodged his thrust, hit his hand so hard it broke bone and managed to disarm him, taking his own weapon. He had shifted his body at the last moment of the strike, dodging past the sword and redirecting his attack to Kyburns wrist. While moving, the assassin shifted his weight, snapping the sword from Kyburn’s grip as he brought his elbow straight into his face.

It happened so fast, Kyburn barely realized what happened and was amazed at the speed and skill of the hooded figure.

“I warned you,” he said calmly. “You didn’t have to die if you had just let me go.”

Lifting the sword, he placed it on Kyburns chest, his head still spinning. Unable to think straight or move his body, he lifted his face to the man about to kill him in a last act of defiance. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

A whistling sound came from the entrance of the ruin turning his attention behind the hooded man. A bolt, hastily aimed, flew through the air and struck the masked man in the left shoulder. Bone cracked, shattering his shoulder blade, flesh tore and blood sprayed from the wound.

It didn’t seem to bother him but he looked down at his shoulder in shock, as if realizing he could be hurt for the first time. Another bolt whizzed straight for his head but he ducked and the projectile passed over them. Bending down as if readying himself to jump, the masked man came up next to Kyburn’s ear.

“Looks like I don’t have to kill you after all,” he whispered. “I’ll be seeing you again old friend.”

An instant later, he dashed past in, running further into the ruin at top speed.

“He’s getting away!” guards shouted.

Kyburn looked up to see who saved him, it was Hazam who stared at him with a blank expression but nodded to him. Kyburn nodded back to him in thanks, he had saved his life. He turned back to what the assassin had said. Thinking it odd that he would even speak to him, strange that he didn’t want to kill him. His last words struck him like a nerve, “Did he know him?” he thought. “He must know me from somewhere.” At first, Kyburn dismissed the idea but being here, alive made him rethink whether or not the masked man truly wanted to kill him or not.

Looking down at his hand, Kyburn noticed his fingers had been broken, two were snapped at odd angles. His wrist was swollen but he could move it which gave him hope that it had not been broken and only his fingers needed mending.

Kyburn scooted up to the wall as dozens of men with swords and crossbows chased after the assassin. Sighing in relief but also an intense wave of exhaustion hit him, made him want to fall asleep right there.

“You live.” Hazam stood over him, still holding an empty crossbow. “You lucky you alive,” he smirked.

Kyburn chuckled at him, somehow he found it funny that he was saved by this odd-looking man. “I’m not sure if you had a good or bad aim but at least you didn’t hit me.” he joked.

“Ha.” Hazam laughed. “I have bad aim. I aim for you... not assassin.” he grinned stupidly down at Kyburn.

In reality, Kyburn knew the shot was made in haste as Hazam had just rounded the corner upon seeing his imminent demise. Hazam had shot his crossbow without aiming in an attempt to save him, in which case he was successful.

“I’m alive.” Kyburn chuckled then winced in pain. “Thank you for saving me.”

Hazam nodded in respect, though Kyburn wondered if deep down, this man wanted him to have died for killing their king so long ago.

Kyburn turned his head to the burning piles of research and a sense of dread came over him. “They would never figure out how to wake the Ancients without Armin’s books.” he thought.

Part 4

Henry paced in the room from one end to the next, placing his hand on his sword then removing it over and over again. His fidgeting soon annoyed Erik who was looking through the book full of Armin’s drawings.

“Will you please stop that?” Erik huffed. “You’re making me nervous just by looking at you.”

“Sorry.” Henry stopped in place.

The alarm bells had stopped minutes before, which made Henry antsier than before. His anticipation was killing him, unable to leave and see for himself. Realizing his worry for Kyburn was useless, Henry plopped down in place, taking a seat next to Erik.

“I hate this!” he said, frustrated.

“I’m sorry that you hate protecting me.” Erik joked.

“That’s not it and you know it,” Henry said angrily, not taking the joke well.

“Calm yourself. You need to learn how to be patient.” Erik commented, still looking in the book.

“I am…” Henry hesitated mid-sentence, realizing his own impatience. “Ugggh!” he flew his hands in the air in defeat. “Fine. You’re right.”

Erik smiled inwardly at the boy but also understood his frustration. He wished he could be out there helping with whatever was going on out there but he was too weak to stand even. The seizures were taking more out of him than he cared to admit, getting worse and worse.

Taking a deep breath, Erik froze on one page, his heart instantly pounding and an image flashed into his mind.

“Henry?” he asked softly but in a way that alarmed him.

“What is it?” Henry leapt from his chair.

“This symbol… what is it?” Erik asked the obvious.

“Uh… it’s a bell.” Henry said awkwardly. “What did you think it was?”

“I-It seems familiar somehow,” Erik said simply.