The sun shone brightly on the soldiers' silvered helms as they rode the cobble-studded track about a day's ride from the city of Arkhen. All around, the hills of the westernmost reaches of the Arkhen territory hid the sight of the legion's headquarters; if the soldiers held their current speed, they would make it to the legion before dark. The sky was cloudless, but a slight breeze allowed for some comfort from the weight of the heavy dark grey uniforms they wore. 

Marcellus Sulli, Archon of the third legion, rode with his young ward and cousin, Lukas. He held himself tall with a silvered chest plate carved with extremely delicate ornaments that showed his high birth to one of the city's most powerful families. He wore a light purple silk shirt under the chest plate and fine black pants tucked into well-made leather boots. A black sword hung on his waist, indicating his position as Archon. Only nine of these swords were ever held by the people of Arkhen. The nine Archons of the city, the welders of the echoes, were given the weapon as a visible symbol of their power. Marcellus brushed his fingers over the blade; he still felt excited whenever he saw the weapon or felt the power of his god's wraith flow through him.  

His young ward wore similar armor, though not nearly as decorative, and his clothes were of lesser quality. That would have to change; no Sulli would be seen as a lesser noble in the legion or in society at his side. Marcellus noticed Lukas brushed his long blond hair out of his eyes and kept focused on the road ahead, ignoring his cousin's attention. 

I have no idea why I agreed to this. But Lukas, having finally turned sixteen and made his first wraith pact, the boy's father convinced Marcellus to take his cousin on as a ward and train the boy to use his wraith in battle. Thank the echoes that he had the legion. He could have the men help with the lad's training. Marcellus already had a few ideas about who might be the best trainer for his young cousin. 

Marcellus saw Lukas call up his wraith out of the corner of his eye. The slight crimson glow of a battle-worn man floated next to Lukas. The wraith looked down at him with a fierce glower, a set of cards in one of his hands. 

That Damn Kid. "Now, Lukas, what did I say about calling up your wraith?" His voice was stern as he talked to the boy. It still surprised him how lucky his young ward had been with his first pact. There was power within the wraith; anyone with any experience would be able to notice it in moments. 

The wraith disappeared in a puff of crimson smoke as Lukas turned to his cousin before quickly ducking his head down and adverting his eyes. Marcellus tried to keep his face apathetic, but he knew his annoyance showed in his eyes. Ah, he quickly remembers the lesson. 

"They do not appreciate being summoned without a purpose. They are our partners, not servants or toys," Lukas recited each word perfectly. 

Marcellus nodded. This had been the first and only lesson he had given the young boy a week ago when Lukas's father had dropped him off at the family manor. 

"Better. If I see that again, I will put you on latrine duty with the others. You are a Sulli, not some common Arkenite. Follow the rules I set forth," Marcellus lectured. "I know you are young, but your father asked me to teach you how to control the power you have gained. Follow my rules, or I will send you back." 

Lukas kept his head held low. Marcellus could see the young boy trying not to look at the others in embarrassment. Marcellus glanced back to examine the men; the soldiers all had small smiles that disappeared as soon as they noticed the Archon's attention. These men were the best of his legion, his elite guard of twenty soldiers, and the ones he completely trusted. Each knew well not to gain his displeasure or wrath. The third legion was considered one of the best, and he would not allow such lax manners to poison the discipline of his soldiers. While it had been reasonably peaceful these last few years for the legion, they could never let their guard drop. 

They continued down the road steadily, with Marcellus and Lukas at the head of the column. Following them were two soldiers who rode with the White wraith banner of the city of Arkhen and his own Sulli blue raven banner held high in the air. Their group was returning to the legion after a quick visit to the city to see his wife and daughter. 

"I apologize. It will not happen again," Lukas said, finally pulling his head up and looking at his cousin. 

"Good. When we finally get to the legion, I will have a trainer assigned to start your training. We will have to see exactly what power that wraith is blessing you with," Marcellus responded. "By the look of it, you made a sound pact."

Lukas's hand twitched, and Marcellus could see the struggle in the boy's eyes. He had almost summoned the wraith again. Marcellus had to control his urge to laugh and cuff the kid on the back of his head. 

 "Why do you say that, cousin?" Lukas asked. 

How much to tell him? They still had close to half a day's ride before they reached the legion, and he would have to explain everything he had guessed from meeting Lukas’s wraith for the first time. 

The wraiths of the city of Arkhen… how long ago had he made his first pack with such a weak wraith? It had been what forty, fifty years? Now, he held command over one of the Echoes of the dead gods. In an era long past, Thirteen gods were killed within the City of Wraiths. No one knows how these gods were trapped in death; it remains a mystery within the city's history. Only nine echoes still endure today within Arkhen, forevermore working with the city's humans to keep it from falling. He could still remember the thrill of winning the contest and the power that flowed through him when the pact was made. But these were not the only pacts made within the city; many other wraiths of varying power lay waiting to claim their pact. He, Lukas, and all of his soldiers had such deals. 

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"Your wraith exudes power; you may not feel it, but your father did, and so do I. This shade must have been powerful in life, and as you know, what we did in life echoes into eternity," Marcellus explained. Now, the question was how powerful the wraith would end up being. It would certainly be more potent than a regular Arkenite wraith or the soldier's battle wraiths. But beyond that, they would find out, and then the proper training would begin. “We shall see; I could only guess at the moment. More powerful than my first pact, that is for sure.” 

"So, how will we know?" Lukas asked, looking back at the soldiers for only a moment. 

Before Marcellus could respond, the wind picked up, crashing into their group with fierce power behind it. Red sand or dust picked up and flowed around them; Marcellus's vision was lost as he tried to see where this had come from. The valley they were in could not have sand such as this. 

Marcellus summoned his wraith, Sorana. But just as the power flowed, something smacked into him, forcing the breath out of him. His left arm went numb, and pain spread through his chest. He looked down to see a black arrow with yellow fletching sticking out of his breastplate. He might have died had his echoes' power not flowed through him.

He had the power flow even more, and a veiled woman in a shadowed dress came to stand next to him. He began to work his magic. 

———

What in the abyss? Lukas looked wide-eyed at his cousin's chest, where an arrow stuck out. Horror and fear flooded through Lukas’s body. He could barely understand what had happened before a wraith stood beside Marcellus's horse, her hand barely touching his cousin's thigh. 

"Cousin, who are they?" Sounds of horses and men surrounded them beyond the steep hills that formed a valley. They seemed trapped between forces bearing down on them. The dust calmed enough that Lukas could see hundreds of soldiers armored with silver-plated mail, swords, and spears in hand on the road in front. A crescent moon on a black banner was held high.

"Lukas, stay at the ready." Marcellus held one hand at his wound and sent bolts of shadow at the attacking soldiers with the other. Screams and shouts reverbed as men and horses died. Dust and rocks hid the carnage from Lukas's view. However, more came, and the lines finally met as the fight came within sight. Marcellus sent more and more power forth as magic began to fly everywhere.

Lukas sat frozen on his horse, unable to calm himself enough to call forth his wraith, even though he saw dozens around him as the soldiers fought and died to hold the line. 

The fighting droned on. Lukas, plastered to his cousin's side, watched the bright flash of swords. The odor of blood seeping into his nostrils, he had to fight to hold back vomiting from the smell of it. Somehow, Marcellus remained unflagged, sending bolt after bolt into the enemy. Finally, a red bolt shot forth from the dust and cut through Marcellus’s side. His screams cut through the sound of men fighting, and the pain in his cousin's voice broke the seal on Lukas’s fear, and he rushed to his cousin's side. 

"Cousin, are you alright?" He asked, helping Marcellus to sit up. What can I do? What can I do? His cousin's face was wracked with pain as Lukas steadied him on his horse. Power blossomed around the two of them - the shadows of a void holding a barrier between them and the fighting, shielding them from more red bolts slamming into his shield from beyond the mass of men. Marcellus’s soldiers continued to fight and fall, their wraiths bolting into the sky and disappearing as they died. Lukas tried to find who continued to send the bolts of crackling power, but they remained hidden from view. 

"Be prepared… to ride as soon as I say." Marcellus grabbed Lukas's shoulder hard and spoke in a strained voice. "I’m going to open a corridor for you to escape. Ride hard and fast to the city and tell them about today's events. They will know of my death before you reach the city, but you must let them know someone has made their first move." Marcellus held the arrow between his fingers, keeping his other hand on Lukas's shoulder, speaking as loud as he could. Lukas was forced to lean in close to hear him. "I do not know who, but remember all that you can. The city must be prepared for what comes next."

"No! What are you saying? How am I going to do this?" Lukas screamed, trying to form all the questions he wanted to ask but unable to get most of them out. 

Marcellus cringed as another bolt rocked the shield. Almost all of the soldiers that had ridden with them were either dead or dying—only one of the bannermen still fought multiple soldiers with the white wraith banner, his grey wraith at his side. But he, too, was dragged down within seconds, his shade disappearing with his death. 

"You must, for the city and our family, make it to them. The families must know war is coming," He coughed. Lukas could see frothy blood on the back of his cousin's hand. "Be ready. Ride out of the valley."

Marcellus coughed more blood. He wiped the blood with his shirt before he spoke again. Enemy soldiers were slashing at the shield, trying to force their weapons through. "Don't stop for anything. Ride through the night. They will follow you."

Marcellus took his sword off his hip and handed it over. "Be prepared to fight if you must." 

Please, no, I can't. Fear held Lukas tight to his horse as he looked sadly at Marcellus. Power again blossomed around him, and his cousin held his hand out back towards the city. The violence unleashed by Marcellius almost forced Lukas from his saddle; he held the reins with all his strength. Black power destroyed all in its path, leaving the enemy soldiers dead or dazed. 

"Ride now!" Marcellus screamed before turning to face the mass of men.

Lukas's horse moved, and Lukas held on for all it was worth. He looked back to see waves of darkness sweeping over men before another bolt of red magic shot through, cutting through his cousin. A streak of shadow shot into the sky and rushed east into the sky as his cousin's body fell from the horse.

"No," Lukas cried, turning back with tears running down his face. He had no time to mourn, as multiple horsemen had turned and were trying to chase him down. Lukas grabbed hold of his horse's reins and rode as fast as he could back towards the city.