inter Solstice was three weeks away; the snow had begun to accumulate on the hallowed earth, and in the darkness elves gathered, assembling in the long halls for celebration.

Vil and Mey watched from a distance as the city lit up with joy and lights at the return of King Aiwind, who in his absence had truly won the war, defeating Morthaur ere he could be summoned through the stellar gates, not like Vil's and Mey's household offensive was undermined though, but after a week of constant celebration it seemed to have faded into nonexistence.

"Well, at least we lived to see this celebration," Mey chuckled, glancing at Vil.

"I'm not in the mood to," Vil replied, "I've already had too much, and to be fair we didn't even do much, it was Muldred and Caravir who did the most."

"You daren't deny the outcome of our defence, Vil," Mey retorted, "your troops and mine held the burial mound, without them Morthaur would have returned once again, and no force godly or devilish could have brought him down then."

Vil looked down, cracking a gentle smile, "I guess you're right," he shrugged.

Mey placed his hand on Vil's shoulder, looking him deeply in the eyes. Snowflakes landed on their heads, forming circlets of silver around them, embroidering their curls black and red with the promise of freedom. "We should get in," Vil suggested, "I don't fancy everyone seeing us here like this."

"Who are you and what have you done to Vilyánur Sarmäcil?" joked Mey, kissing Vil in the darkness of the snowy clouds.

"No, I was not joking, I'm not very fond of the cold."

"Well, alright," Mey shook his head, walking into the darkness of their apartment chambers, Vilyánur following.

Three more days passed by, endless partying and joyful tidings drowned the halls of all the districts and states of the two kingdoms, Vil and Mey remained to themselves for the most part, not interacting with anyone unless absolutely necessary to.

...

On the eve of the fourth day Raucion visited them, only to be greeted warmly by King Aiwind. "If not for the son of our ally," he wished him, probably unaware of their shared kinship.

"Thank you," he wished back, "I have come here to have a chat with my friend, Lord Vilyánur, if you'll be grateful enough to allow me."

"Aye, I don't have a problem with that, if he has none," the king replied.

"He has no problem either," Vil interrupted out of nowhere, "come, let us chat in private."

Raucion nodded, following Vil into his personal chambers. Mey and Vil were more than glad to see him, eager for the news of the former king. "Welcome brother," Vil greeted him warmly with an embrace, "how is father?"

"He is well, and wants you to know that he told you that he loves you, and will always love you. No matter what happens, you will always be in his heart."

Tears filled into Vil's eyes, "...as will he be."

"Also, I bring a message from him, and 'tis something that worries me for you and your kindred," Raucion announced. "Should I remember correctly: 'Morthaur as an entity is subject to the same laws as us, and thus can be defeated,' he said, 'but Morthaur as a concept is eternal, and cannot be defeated.'"

"Well, that's general knowledge, isn't it?"

"It is," Raucion tilted his head, running his sleek fingers through his hair.

"I mean, Morthaur in Old Elvish means 'entropy', and back then he used to be the God of Death and Decay. When he said Morthaur as a concept cannot be defeated, he meant the inevitable death of the universe cannot be hindered."

"You're right I guess, maybe I overthought it," Raucion smiled.

"Either that or he duped us into a false sense of security," Vil remarked somewhat sarcastically, "I mean, you can't truly ever say, he may return soon. But at least this time he'll be up against a much stronger force: one which knows how to fight him, and is united to the bone."

"Aye, that's true," Mey replied, "the Wild Hunt can be mobilized again if deemed necessary, although that'll require Morthaur to penetrate the veil between Mundus and Aoroth once again, which under the vigil of the other gods will be difficult if not impossible outright."

"And to make things even better for us," Vil said, "I instructed Caranthir to start researching these matters. He's been up day and night learning about the exploits of Morthaur, and also why he exactly attacked us in the first place."

"Caranthir?" asked Raucion, baffled like never before, "did he not die three years ago?"

"What?" asked Vil in fright, the music ceased and the world it seemed had fallen silent, "but . . . I just met him no more than six months ago. It was by his aid that we were able to learn about the Arcaneum and our quest could go further."

"No, that cannot be," Raucion replied, "I still remember offering him an auxiliary host to accompany him in his campaign at Vespin. As per the survivors said, his army had been ambushed in the middle of the night by sand-wraiths. Many of the bodies, including the prince's were never found, it was simply assumed the night horrors devoured him."

"But then who did I meet then?" he questioned, then coming to a dread horror. "Oh my, I just handed the enemy our battle-plans."

*****

"My lord!" a scout reported to King Aiwind. "Our sea-borne comrades have reported feelings of immense chaos energies around The Dark Tower, apparently storms of chaotic origins: something not seen in over three millennia."

"How is that even possible?" asked King Aiwind, turning to the members of his council. "The tower is haunted by terrors beyond imagination: terrors that bode ill to both mortal and immortal."

"Well, perhaps they are planning to take it down," Mey whispered.

"That is possible," Vareth responded, "but foolish at the same time. Nobody can defeat The Terror From The Great Beyond, save for he who knows the magic of the Old Gods."

"There is only one person who knows the ways of the Old Gods," Vil replied, darting his eyes towards Raucion: a suspicious character sitting in silence with a dreadful fear upon his gaunt face. "And he may have saved us before."

Raucion stared up at Vil, "m-me?"

"Raucion, be honest with me, for it shan't be your fault: what did you do down there to the One from Outside once we were gone?"

"I-I killed him," Raucion answered grimly, much to the dismay of the others, "I used Ancient Magic that my father taught me to temporarily slay him, and then I locked his form below the tower, there he still lay dreaming and in stasis, unable to wake for countless aeons."

The other members of the council looked at him in worry, so that's what the war was all about. Now it all made sense.

"You know, originally I thought the naval attack was a diversion, for any invading army would have to attack head-on from the darker territories, should they want to face our might on the only ground where they may have even the remotest advantages," King Aiwind replied, "but now I realised why they were doing it: they wanted quick access to the Arcaneum, for their plan was to use the last burial mound to raise Morthaur."

A dread shadow engulfed the elves, a feeling of uselessness taking over.

...

"Scouts," King Aiwind whispered, "how big an army did you see garrisoned there?"

"None, my lord," the scout answered, "they had two longboats nearby, but that was all. Now I cannot say how great an army they had within, but certainly not a great force."

"Then it sounds like a doable mission," he scratched his chin, "the army still hasn't disbanded, and it will take a mere two weeks for us to reach The Dark Tower even with our heavier warships. If everything goes according to plan, we can defeat him by Winter Solstice."

"I don't think it'll be that easy," Court Wizard Ancalidor spoke, "once Morthaur is in, there is nothing that can stop him. Pray to the gods they have warlocks few enough that the conjuring takes a month or two, or else even at your optimal power you cannot defeat him."

"Do not be so pessimistic," Mey interrupted, "Morthaur as a concept is undeniable and undefeatable, but as an entity, he is still subject to the same laws as you and I. Even his blood green and smoking is alike what flows through our veins, and he can die."

"Mey's right," Vil nodded, "also he lost a great portion of his army, he is but powerless now and with followers few. Even if he gains an upper hand on us, without minions he will do no good against the great legions of ours."

"But we are at one disadvantage," Vareth spoke, "the city surrounding the Arcaneum is easy to defend, as far as I remember from my youth. Even with a mere five hundred they can hold back fifty thousand."

"Then we'll send in a hundred thousand," Mey replied, accumulating the attention of everyone on the table, "just . . . summon the generals, I think we need to move on to the next phase: how are we going to mount the attack."

*****

With the snap of a finger, the generals of the armies of Alinor and the armies of the Forest Kingdom had assembled on the table: King Aiwind for the House of Alinor, and King Arvedui for the Forest Kingdom.

"So how many do you think you'll be able to summon?" asked King Aiwind.

"Twenty thousand immediately," King Arvedui replied, "if you can ferry the troops across the channel, we can ensure a steady supply of ten thousand per week, although let us hope it will never need that many. And you?"

"I am no longer dictator, thus can muster only one legion immediately: ten thousand elites, and Vil has one: ten thousand well-trained veterans, so in total equal the number you have. For the other eight, we need to convince the other legates."

"Forty thousand should be enough," Raucion replied, "if you can bring some engineers with yourself, I can summon an army of daemons of an equal size."

"And then you have auxiliaries," Vareth replied, "that'll be another twenty thousand, if you feel generous enough. And I suggest we do not bring more troops with us, else it'll be difficult to ferry them all across, and will take longer to, and also be expensive. For all we know, the cities could be undefended except for a group of cultists and their bodyguards."

"Ah yes, to that I agree," King Arvedui nodded, "as far as I remember, the city was built beside a lagoon, right? And the lagoon is surrounded by cities on all sides?"

"The lagoon has eroded away into a cove over time, father," Mey replied, "but aye, the cities still remain."

"Well, then our primary goal should be to land our troops along the bordering cities, maybe walk them in from both sides, meeting the central city with a strike on both sides."

"That is a good idea," King Aiwind replied, "your troops are better at guerrilla tactics, therefore you take the cities. Our troops, adept at marine combat, shall hop from city to city and demolish the gates so you can walk your troops in and commence your onslaught."

"Good enough," King Arvedui replied, "and whilst we're at the city offensive, your troops can watch the seas so no enemies come in that way."

"Arranged," King Aiwind shook his hands with King Arvedui, Vil and Mey on the other hand busied themselves in a chat with a messenger, whispering something in an inaudible tone.

...

"Uncle, father," Vil interrupted at last, "so my scouts tell me the spirit of Aeresil, bound to Darrian's chain, has landed on the Moon of Athir. I think if I, Mey and Vareth go there, we might be able to convince him to join again."

"Join again?" asked Vareth, "you know the rules? If he dies again, he will not be able to return until the turn of the aeon, and I do not think Darrian's guards will let him go."

"That's why you must come along too," Vil replied.

"Bu-" Vareth raised a finger, but then silenced, "alright, fine, you're the king's nephew, you make the decision, although I feel like he'll want to come anyway."

"So it is decided," King Arvedui replied, "I will lead the host of wood-elves and rampage through the cities, engaging the enemies on the streets and forests between. King Aiwind on the other hand will lead the high-elves, and will trail along on ship, breaking the first lines of defence."

The commanders nodded, agreeing to their decisions all the way through. For hours they planned, the assignments carrying on all throughout as they intricately planned their missions, the admiral and his folk readying the ships.

As the clock struck midnight, their tasks had been finished: all the generals had been assigned, all the concerned units mobilized, the rest of the army readied to make a move should things go ill, and so much more – all except Vil, Mey, Vareth, Aeresil and Raucion.

Though for the most part Mey remained silent, he spoke up once the council had given its verdict.

"Vil," said Mey, "you assigned us all to certain armies and well . . . but what about us? Did you forget to assign ourselves to certain armies?"

"Oh no, my love," he patted Mey on his shoulder, "I did not forget, I still have our own missions thought of . . . just that I have something else in mind."

"What?" Mey looked at him with curiosity.

"By the time our troops make it into the final city, it'll already have been too late. Therefore, I have another plan in mind: one that concerns assassination rather than conquest. Listen here and listen carefully, for secrecy and stealth will be our biggest assets over here."