Lyfress dreamed that she and her family were once again peacefully dining in Gulnholn for the village festival. Ulford arrived with his various vegetables from his farm, father with his peppers, her mother offered some big cuts of meat bought from the butcher, and her other siblings rounded it all with desserts including pies and pastries. It was such a happy and vivid occasion that Lyfress thought for a moment all off the misfortunes of the prior many months must have been the dream and that this was reality.

True to most of her dreams, the conversations were almost indistinguishable from just a general whir of noise. She envied those who could remember long conversations with departed loved ones or see a play in their dreams. Lyfress wanted to confront Ulford about his decision to leave the family and embrace the traitor angels, but this was not the dream for that. Instead, she came up to him, hoping to embrace him one more time.

As she threw her arms open, he turned to her with a sad look on his face. A flash of light then surrounded Ulford. It closed in upon him, burning his flesh off his bones in an instant. His eye sockets, dripping with the white goo that had once been his eyes, stared at her before his entire skeleton turned to ash and swept away in a strangely stiff wind.

Lyfress jolted awake, her heart racing and her skin covered in sweat. She looked around the tent to see her father placidly sleeping under a thin blanket on the opposite side. He snored at regular intervals, marking the time like a slow clock. Two others who shared their tent, also recent students of the Ceunan Aura, slept soundly as well. The prior day's march had been exhausting and left most of the camp utterly drained. With how deeply the rest of them slept, she elected to take the opportunity to step out of the tent and make for the camp's periphery.

It was an unusually quiet night, though it was a beautiful one. Rithys's moons were fully visible and bathed the world in their wondrous blue and silver light. Nocturnal birds hooted and called to one another. The occasional beast howled in the distance. The camp's sentries nodded at Lyfress as she walked past.

"Don't wander too far," one of them said in their gruff voice.

She lightly nodded in affirmation and only went as far as a nearby pond where she saw the now familiar presence of Simel floating just above the ground. He had a slight glow to him that was only readily evident in the evening. Otherwise, from behind, she would have mistaken him for one of any number of mages who had now become a common sight amidst the army. They readily styled themselves after Simel, adopting his robes and general affect. When she came closer, she realized just how much taller the angel was than his mortal followers.

"You have had difficulty resting?" the Mind Angel said to her, his metallic eyes focused on the waters before them.

"Yes," she said softly, barely breaking above a whisper. "I had a terrible nightmare."

"I am sorry."

"Why do we have nightmares? Was that a design of the angels?" Lyfress inquired.

Simel turned to look at her more fully, his eyes locking onto hers with a sorrowful air.

"Not entirely. I was tasked with helping to craft mortal minds in the likeness of our own. We have such a poor understanding of our own minds that putting that into mortal form was too great a burden," he mournfully conceded. "There were glaring faults, I regret to say. I think it should be no surprise at this point to realize just how limited our powers truly are."

Lyfress was staggered by Simel's candid admissions. It was akin to hearing a craftsman confessing that he couldn't get an order completed by a given date. Perhaps for the angels, these sorts of faults were as banal as mortal lethargy. They carried so much more weight, however.

"I saw my brother, Ulford. He was blasted away into ash before me. I didn't even get to say anything to him," she whimpered.

Simel's eyes flashed.

"That may have been somewhat more than a mere dream," the angel suggested. "You told me that your brother defected to the cause of Omonrel and the others. It is possible that he was in Zarmand when Forynda destroyed the city."

Lyfress's heart bounded against her chest. Simel's insinuation was far too likely. Ulford had commented to her before that he would like to go to one of the great cities and abandon their placid life in Gulnholn. Zarmand was always the one he mentioned most and it was the heart of the rebellion against Forynda. All of the facts aligned too well.

"Even if that's true... We could never know. Zarmand was destroyed utterly," she said listlessly.

"I could attempt to venture to the Communion of Souls in Ceuna and determine whether his spirit is among them," Simel offered. "If that would bring you peace."

"I don't think it'd bring me peace, but I'd... I'd like to know," she whimpered.

Simel closed his eyes and his body began to fade to a translucent form that was imponderably strange to Lyfress. She could scarcely determine what she was looking at as it twisted and flickered. She saw Simel's face move around rapidly in its ghostly form. Being so entranced by the spectacle she lost any concept of the time that elapsed as Simel went on his strange journey. At last, he appeared again as he had been just moments before. His eyes opened.

"His spirit is there with those slain alongside him," the angel stated calmly. "What you saw in your dream happened."

She looked away toward the pond, her eyes filling with tears. When Ulford left Gulnholn she knew it was always a possibility he would be killed. But he had been slain by Forynda's own hand. She shook and ran cold before dropping to her knees.

"You look as though you need to be alone," Simel murmured. "I will trouble you no further."

"No," she forced through the tears, "I just want to ask something of you, though."

"What was that?"

She suppressed her sorrow for Ulford and his family just long enough to put together the words.

"You've seen glimpses of the future. Is what we're doing right?" she asked.

Simel's craggy face drooped and he closed his eyes for several moments.

"I have not seen the end of these troubles, nor even the beginning of their end," the angel said, his eyes opening again to reflect the moons' light. "I can assure you, however, that I believe this is the correct side of this conflict. It is not easy, nor is it simple. Forynda's faults are many, as are all of ours. Despite her mistakes, I have no doubt that she will be the one to bring both our worlds through this."

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"You say you're certain of that?" Lyfress whimpered in disbelief.

Simel nodded.

"And all of that will become clear to us soon, I assure you."

~~~

Vorlan floated near the rear guard of Emperor Rohmhelt's columns, his thoughts drifting about through countless troubles. Just before dawn, he tried to convince Forynda to return to the mortal world and take responsibility for her mistakes, but the High Angel refused him. Her self-imposed exile, an exile of shame, was still in its early stages. When he returned to the Emperor's armies, he sensed such doubts in their cause that he had not the energies to confront them. Then there was also his growing suspicion that he would soon have to face Omonrel in combat, a prospect he dreaded.

Rithys hovered far above the column to provide a clearer view of what might be coming their way. He looked up at her, her deep black body standing out against the blue sky. The Earth Angel was staggered that Rithys did not seem more troubled by the circumstances than she was. He previously worried that her gentle nature would buckle under the strains of the calamity unfolding, but instead she radiated a certain serene air.

That serenity even persisted in a shocking moment.

"They are coming," she announced calmly. "Some thousands of horses. Myrvaness and Omonrel, too."

Vorlan shook as Rithys gave her assessment. The commanders near him and their men unsheathed their weapons and shouted for all men within range to ready themselves.

"TO ARMS! TO ARMS! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" the tall young captain nearest Vorlan screamed. "DEFENSIVE FORMATIONS! PIKES IN FRONT! ARCHERS BEHIND!"

The men, though weary, complied with their orders. Vorlan looked eastward down the slopes of the lightly forested hills where he could see the horde of oncoming cavalry. It was as Rithys said, well into the thousands. And unmistakably at their vanguard were both Omonrel and Myrvaness, surging forward as they floated above the ground. Rithys descended from the sky above to be at the same level as Vorlan, her demeanor still calm.

"I helped Tathyk against Parlon," Rithys said. "I can help here."

"Try to protect these men from Myrvaness," Vorlan commanded. "I will confront Omonrel."

The Moon Angel faintly acknowledged her instruction and drifted to the left where Myrvaness appeared to be veering. Omonrel, with his ivory skin and sparkling blue eyes, approached with his hands raised and open well ahead of the cavalry behind him. The horde of what Vorlan surmised to be some ten thousand riders paused just behind Omonrel and Myrvaness, who both glared at their foes.

Toward his former disciple, Omonrel, Vorlan felt nothing but regret. Had Vorlan listened to Forynda in rejecting an angelic presence in the mortal realm, it might never have come to that moment. We both made our mistakes, Forynda.

"Vorlan," Omonrel said with a smile. "You need not stand here with these fools. They have lost this war and are running back to Karmand in shame. Why be with them?"

"Fortunes have changed twice now in this war, Omonrel. They will change many times more," the Earth Angel riposted. "Today's fool is tomorrow's victor."

"We shall see about that," Omonrel cackled. He flicked his hands up and raised from the ground below several stones, swiftly turning them into sharp rocky spirals that floated above his head. "I will not let you stop me."

"As if you have a choice," Vorlan spat, offended by the impudence.

Omonrel sent his weapons forward. They whistled in the air over the Earth Angel's head. Behind Vorlan, the Emperor's men braced. He spared them their anxiety, shooting up spires of soil to knock the projectiles off their course before repurposing them for his own use. He shattered them into thousands of little pebbles and threw them at Omonrel and his followers. They showered harmlessly in a rain of little patters on the ground.

The Sculptor seemed untroubled by the display.

"Attack," he simply commanded the men behind him. "I will deal with this problem."

Horns blasted throughout the cavalry's ranks and they surged forth in a thundrous gallop. Off to the left, Myrvaness drew her sword and approached Rithys, who languidly prepared for battle. Vorlan let the horses ride past him and left them to the walls of pikes and the rain of arrows that awaited them. How the mortals fought one another was not his concern. He shut out all of their screams and shouts as their battle began and resolved to keep his fight with Omonrel.

Omonrel again pulled stones from the ground, turning one into a smooth slab that he meant to use as a shield. The others he crafted into human-like statues that he animated and sent toward Vorlan. They walked clumsily, but were nonetheless impressive for such a quick action. Vorlan responded by calling forth the roots below and skewering the statues, breaking them to pieces. Omonrel smiled in acknowledgement.

"This will all be quite pointless, Omonrel," Vorlan said. "You cannot defeat me with the Auras and I will not let you harm the mortals."

The Earth Angel then called forth a green acidic blast that hit Omonrel's shield, causing the rock to melt in a gray sludge. Omonrel discarded it and simply shrugged.

"I reasoned that you would be hard to beat with the Auras you used to build this world," Omonrel said. "But those are not the only auras that exist. Nethron was kind enough to teach me that."

A blackish purple hue radiated from Omonrel. Vorlan recoiled at its sight. He had never seen anything like it before. He remembered that Elaous told him that Nethron had found strange and previously unknown auras, but Vorlan had never inquired as to what they were. Not knowing what to expect, Vorlan did not bother bracing for it.

A purple beam of translucent light and black flecks within roared toward Vorlan, striking him hard and forcing him to the ground. Its tendrils bit into him. He felt agony he had never known before. With a blinding white pulse of the Ceunan Aura, Vorlan vanquished the attack, but with more difficulty than he anticipated. He realized something staggering. His mortal form had suffered damage. Not once in all of his existence had that happened before.

"So, that actually worked," Omonrel laughed. "Nethron, that fool, was good for something after all."

"What was that?" Vorlan gasped.

"What he called the Abyssal Aura. Marvelous thing. It comes from the mortals themselves. Their passions fuel it and give it great power. I found it so much more intriguing than his beloved Silver Aura," the Sculptor said mischievously. "You never even knew it was there."

The Earth Angel had no response to that insult. It was true. He had never known it before and was uncertain how to respond to its power other than by the Ceunan Aura. Feeling a strange surge of anger, he summoned a full array of the earthly auras. He conjured orbs of fire, spikes of ice, pillars of earth, slabs of stone, and tangles of roots from all around him and hurled them toward Omonrel. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying.

Omonrel ripped from deep in the ground a staggering amount of rock and forged from it a thick and sleek stone wall. Vorlan's onslaught crackled, hissed, and crashed against it without interruption for some seconds. Frustrated, Vorlan resorted to a simpler solution and let loose a pulse from his body that shattered Omonrel's barrier utterly.

A vast black and purple wave burst outward from Omonrel's erstwhile wall, washing over Vorlan with an enfeebling energy. He felt shackled, utterly powerless to resist. He tried again to unleash the Ceunan Aura, but it was inadequate to the task. Omonrel glided toward Vorlan, though he flagged and drooped, wheezing from his onslaught.

"That, Vorlan, is what you were blind to," the Sculptor said weakly.

"Vorlan!" Rithys shouted from the left. Vorlan sensed her surge toward him. She unleashed a powerful irisdecent barrage of various beams that crashed into Omonrel, who tried fruitlessly to bat them away.

At once, however, Omonrel's aim became clear. Myrvaness was now freed to decimate Emperor Rohmhelt's forces. Vorlan watched as Myrvaness cut through their ranks as a crackling bolt of lightning, severing heads by the dozen and eviscerating those who were not fortunate enough to be decapitated. Blood spilled onto the ground so freely that the soil called out to Vorlan as it drowned. Duronaht's cavalry surged through the holes blown through the defending ranks and added to the slaughter.

"She is merciless, is she not?" Omonrel cackled in amusement, even as he struggled to fend off Rithys's furious assault. The skin of his mortal form buckled in places and he wheezed slightly trying to steady himself. "I will see you again, Vorlan."

In a whir of light, the Sculptor sped eastward. Rithys initially tried to pursue him, but instead turned her attention toward Myrvaness. Myrvaness, however, only lingered for a few moments more to gloat over her triumph as Duronaht's cavalry routed what remained of Rohmhelt's rear guard. The cavalry, and she, soon withdrew.

Vorlan, recovering from the Abyssal Aura's earlier assault, motioned for Rithys to remain behind with him. There was nothing more to be done. The lifeless carnage behind them was soon all there was left on the battlefield.

"You were hurt," Rithys gasped in shock, her milky white eyes opening wide. "How did he do that?"

Vorlan meditated for several moments on what he had felt as the Abyssal Aura's tendrils had bitten into him.

"Omonrel drew upon darkness. True darkness," the Earth Angel lamented. "And I could not stop it."