“Always be on the lookout for a sinister eye in the sky. The Grand General uses it to spy on other nations, and it can only be destroyed by someone as powerful as one of The Seraph. If you spot it, call out for help from your highest ranking officer and attempt to hide any important equipment and documents from its gaze. Remember, it can appear anywhere and at any time, so stay vigilant.”

Chapter 3 of The Polus Kingdom’s Dealing With the Nox: An In-Depth Instructional Manual

———

Xeros

Dark, obsidian energy begins to seep out of the crevices in Xeros’s eye, forming a small cloud in front of his socket. The aura condenses and thins until it covers the entirety of his pupil, turning it completely pitch-black.

Meanwhile, above the ruined battlefield near the Alexandria, a similar cloud begins to form above the treetops. It starts off opaque, gradually becoming more solid, until eventually gathering into a swirling black thundercloud. The haze parts way to reveal a gigantic eye, its gaze directed towards the bodies below.

Just as Xeros feared, the body of Gravitas lays crumpled on the ground, covered in the dirt and mud. A single slash has severed him in two, and the bisection of the two halves are cauterized by extreme heat, likely from The Solga’s aura wielded by Lorelai.

Curiously enough, the corpse of Lorelai lays not too far from Gravitas, her body sprawled out upon earth with the neck area cleanly cut. Although Xeros is ecstatic over the death of his long-time foe, a disquieting discomfort creeps into his mind. This couldn’t have been caused by Gravitas, but rather, an unknown variable. But just who killed her? None of the other nations are close enough to the forest to deploy their commanders without attracting attention…

Looking closely, both of their weapons are missing. While Gravitas’s spiked mace isn’t too precious of a weapon, the twin blades, Solga and Lunas, have belonged to the Polus kingdom since its inception. Only another of The Seraph, or a being that can completely suppress the blades’ ego, are able to wield them. Those not acknowledged by the blades will be rejected, burning the veins and freezing the breath, an experience The Grand General is personally familiar with.

Xeros takes another look around the battlefield, attempting to spot any traces of the one that could have subdued the two commanders, but is met with nothing of worth. No tracks are seen leaving the battlefield. All life has completely perished, and an eerie stillness smothers the air. The forest is now truly a land of death.

However, there is something odd about the bodies that blanket the area. Although many have been killed by natural causes such as dismemberment, some of the soldiers appear to have perished without so much as a scratch, as if The Miasma invaded their mind and destroyed them from the inside. Their faces lay gaunt with unbridled terror; blood pools from the eyes and scratches cover the faces of those that attempted to disquiet the maddening whispers.

But The Miasma couldn’t have done this. Remnants of Gravitas’s power still faintly remain, and although the dark mist has partially risen, not enough time has passed for its smog to have such a visceral effect. No, there is something much more sinister afoot, but he remains obscured to the truth. There is nothing that can be discovered in the area.

Xeros despises the looming shadow of the unknown more than anything else in the world, and he’s desperate to probe further into the mysterious being’s identity, but the strain in his eye is reaching its breaking point, preventing him from surveying the battlefield any longer.

The Corvid’s Eye begins to dissipate back into a black wisp, slowly becoming immaterial before eventually vanishing into emptiness. The Miasma sweeps back into the battlefield as the eye disappears, Gravitas’s power now completely vanished, consuming all that perished within its clutches until there is nothing else but ruptured earth and broken metal.

Xeros returns to the war room and gathers his thoughts. Gravitas’s death is a devastating loss to the empire, but he takes small comfort in knowing that Lorelai has finally perished. She has been a thorn at his side for far too long, and her death brings some solace amidst the streak of failure. It appears that The Polus have also failed in securing The Comet. Either that, or whatever slayed Lorelai has taken The Comet for itself. Whichever it is, there are still pressing matters that he must attend to. For now, the search for The Comet will have to be put on hold.

“Gravitas is dead,” Xeros states wearily; a wave of confusion and disbelief washes over the members of the war room. “However, Lorelai, one of The Thrones, has also perished. With one of their core leaders dead, Polus is unlikely to make any major moves for now.”

“What should we do with the eastern front?” One of the adjutants asks. “Although The Arch Magus hasn’t noticed Gravitas’s absence yet, it’s only a matter of time before he grows suspicious of our lack of movement.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“For now, have Commander Libevich relocate to the east. We can’t risk letting our rear be exposed to Augurium, so halt the northern advance and order the troops to enter defensive positions. Have the remaining soldiers patrol the exterior of The Æternum. If they see anyone leaving the forest, do not engage. Trail the individual and investigate their actions, then report back to central with a thorough report.”

“Libevich, sir? But her power isn’t suitable for defense…”

“Are you questioning my judgment?”

“N-no sir. I am merely lacking in insight. Pray forgive me for being unable to comprehend your grand plan.”

“Stop your bootlicking,” Xeros growls. “It disgusts me, those words filled with such groveling deceit. Either speak your mind, or do not speak at all. Am I clear?”

“Y-yes sir, I apologize.”

“Hmph, good. I am a merciful man, so you will not be punished this once. I need not explain what will happen if you er again, do I?”

“No… I-I understand.”

“Excellent. Now get out of my sight.”

“At your word…”

The terrified adjutant bows before The Grand General and promptly exits the room, his fleeting steps echoing amongst the ears of the room’s attendants. The other officials dare not speak, for they know what wrath awaits them if they are to break the silence.

“Who do they belong to?” Xeros mutters, rubbing his tired eyes.

“…Commander Nokron sir,” one of the advisors state.

“I expected as much. He's spent too much time locked away in that laboratory of his; he has become complacent. Have Nokron relocate to The Magnus Murus. The isolation at the fortress will give him ample time to discipline his men. Tell him that if his army does not meet my expectations by the time he returns, then I will instate another to take his place. He knows what will happen to failures, so I sincerely wish that he does not disappoint me.”

“Who will take his place as our foreign diplomat? He was supposed to enter The Overlord’s territory to discuss a joint alliance.”

“I shall go in his stead. It has been an age since I have set foot outside the city, and I do ever so miss the scent of fresh air.”

“We shall prepare for your departure with utmost haste.”

“As you should. Now, are there any others in this room that would like to voice their thoughts?”

Silence. Only an uncomfortable emptiness remains in the room.

“Then we are all in agreement.”

Xeros lets out a hoarse sigh. Nights of planning have gone to waste; all he can do now is keep watch and remain on guard against the unexpected being that alludes his all-seeing eye.

“Everyone, dismissed.”

———

Ascalon

King Ascalon feels it instantly. The moment Lorelai dies, a nauseating sensation of bile and vitriol begins to permeate through his very core. He collapses onto the ground, struggling to breathe and clawing at his stomach.

His connection to her has been severed. She is gone.

The royal court members rush to his aid as a cacophony of concern and support rumbles in his ears. He cannot discern a single word any of them are saying for the pain in his heart overwhelms his senses and threatens to drive him insane.

Eventually, the pain passes, and the only thing left is grief.

Suddenly, the doors to the throne room burst wide open and two intricately adorned knights hurry their way towards The King.

Ascalon looks up at them, his eyes devoid of emotion.

“Did you feel it, too? Sarathiel? Annalay?” Ascalon murmurs.

The two Thrones can only nod, for they know not what words will be able to comfort him.

Ascalon wants nothing more than to stay collapsed on the floor, but he has a responsibility as King to stand back up and continue leading the nation. He can’t stay like this; the people need him. He has to persist no matter how much it pains his heart.

He bites his tongue and slowly stands back up, assuring the other court members of his recovery.

“Send a few of The Seraph to patrol the outside of The Æternum.” Ascalon commands. “Keep watch for any signs of Lorelai and her crew.”

The court members relay his orders and slowly trickle out of the room, leaving only Ascalon and the two other Thrones to remain. They idle in awkward silence, unsure of how to bring up the Throne’s disappearance.

“Ascalon…” Annalay begins. “I don’t think she’s-”

“Annalay,” Sarathiel chastises with a dry voice, his tough exterior betrayed by the tremble of his body. “He knows.”

Ascalon does know, deep down in his gut, but he refuses to acknowledge it as truth. As long as Lorelai’s body remains undiscovered, he will continue to wait for her.

Because she promised. She promised to return, no matter what.