He stepped out to find a man clad in the minister’s white bathed in the dusky light of the Black Sun. The minister held out his arms in welcome. A boy lay unconscious by his feet, one torn away to his shoulder. The prince. His son.

Thael’s eyes darted to the rippling black gate that stood between them, echoing with unnatural power.

The man smiled. “So you must be the one behind this unfortunate turn of events. You are an extraordinary man indeed, Thael Tanaka. My name is Ambrose, my line is of no importance. You have come to rescue the prince, yes? You may do as you wish. But before you do, would you follow the same rulers who cared not for your people, for any of us deemed mortal to walk this world?” He pointed to the thrumming wall of darkness. “This Mythic artifact is a gate. It will not harm you, as you already are touched by the Ether. Should you pass and come back from the other side, you will become a mage. They have lied to us all. Would you have rulers such as this?” He gestured to the fallen prince. “Does he seem innocent to you? Will he grow to be like his father, and rule with the same tyrant grip he has on our throats? You have a choice, Thael. There was never any prophecy, only a guiding beacon to give the common folk hope. Hope that there is escape from this circled path we all tread.”

“And what would happen if I were to join you?” Thael said. “Were I to follow you in your benevolent rule?”

Ambrose shook his head. “This is not about any of us. It is so that the cycle can be broken. So that we can all be free to make our choice. To live by the sword, and not just die by it.”

The minister looked up as the shadow of a wrynn fell on them.

“I’m no judge,” Thael as he punched Ambrose in the gut. He pinned him against the parapet, clutching him by the throat.

“I expected more, Kingmaker,” Ambrose coughed.

“Don’t we all?” Thael replied, hoisting the minister over the edge of the tower and letting go.

A hulking shadow swooped down after Ambrose. Another wrynn with Oslo’s mounted atop it, hovered over the tower. “Get on!”

The door opened, Nireih stumbling out followed by Shercagh. “Go!” he shouted “We will hold them here!” A burst of fire flashed beyond the doorway.

Thael supported Nireih, moving to the ladder that draped down the wrynn. After Nireih had climbed up, he shouldered the prince’s weight and scaled the wrynn.

“Hurry!” Oslo cried out.

Thael shouted over the howling winds, “We’re secured!”

Air buffeted them as they plummeted before their wrynn soared up across the garden. Below was the dwarven golem, now broken apart and lifeless. Thael twisted his head back to see the massive bird trailing them, catching a glimpse of the minister’s white uniform amidst its dark plumage.