A guard spots one of the groups prowling in the crowd; he shoves spectators out of his way. A kid screams as he's pushed to the ground, attracting attention. The group the guard is reaching spots him. One of them draws a dagger. The guard unsheathes and swings his sword, striking the lunging man.

A woman falls against a wall, her stomach cut by the guard's too wide slash. The crowd screams and breaks into the parading guards. The crouched figures rise from the balconies and at the windows, aiming at the palanquin.

Arrows fly, hitting the drapes, the guards, and unlucky, fleeing spectators. One of the four bearers falls to the ground, bringing the palanquin down with himself. As Ethan's eyes fall back on the palanquin, he realizes no one, not even a wounded person, is inside.

Ethan catches an arrow that skidded off a guard's armor from striking Aldwin's head. The Armorer is overwhelmed by the situation. He tries to flee but is shoved back against the wall by runaways. Aldwin's survival might depend on Ethan taking care of it.

'If they removed the prince because they knew he would be attacked, why put up with the parade and not cancel it altogether? It doesn't matter; what are my escape routes?' Ethan ponders. He visualizes the streets' layout, remembering they are on an elevated section. There are alleyways, but they all end on stone balconies. Beside the two sides of the main boulevard, staircases lead to the lower cities at the elevated block's corners. 'But why attack here? Unless it's their plan to kill as many people as possible, it leaves them with too few exit routes.'

The ground-level insurgents throw their vials in the parade. This fire clings to them like napalm, its fuel melting with clothes and seeping into armor. Victims roll to the ground, trying to put the fire out while they scream.

A guard thrusts his spear towards Ethan; he's aiming at an insurgent behind Ethan. Ethan deflects the spear with his palm, redirecting the blow to its intended target. The guard is imbalanced, and his attack was childish; he's incompetent or untrained.

'They are all incompetent,' Ethan realizes. The guards that are fighting are disorganized, brawling in their corner of the battlefield with childish moves. The best of them circle the palanquin, fighting the insurgents that rush the transport. 'Don't they know it's empty?'

Heavy, metallic noises reach Ethan's enhanced senses. Lifeforms rise from the block's stairs, rushing in formation. Two other units exit the alleyways further up and down the boulevard, closing all exit routes. They heft large, thick shields in front of them and lower spears. Walking forward, they enclose the space, their stair-originating homologues blocking the alleyways.

The insurgents cower into a central formation, their blades towards the newly arrived guards. Their comrades, who were firing from the houses, take to the roofs, fleeing the scene. Archers from behind the shield lines harass their retreat, hitting several. The surviving parade guards move to circle the palanquin, commanded by those who were already protecting it.

Ethan leans back on the wall behind him. There may be some questioning to go through for being present, but fleeing now is a worse option. Even if he's going to leave, being wanted might hinder future actions here.

"Surrender! You have nowhere to go," a deep voice commands. Its owner, an aging man in imposing armor, moves out of the palace-sided shield line. He slams the ten-centimeter-thick kite shield he holds into the ground. His tired eyes scan the slaughter – burned and gutted guards, civilians, and insurgents.

A vial flies from the insurgents' formation, striking the older man in the chest. The fire spreads across him but doesn't affect him. The flames lick up his skin and hair but do not burn them. He taps the flames, dispelling them.

The raggedly dressed insurgents drop their weapons, slowly raising their hands in the air. Seeing them now, Ethan realizes they are starved, with atrophied muscles and sunken eyes.

Guards move in duos to drag the insurgents to the ground and bind their hands.

The older, leading guard moves to the palanquin and opens its drapes. He moves back, releasing a long sigh. Grabbing a parade's guard, he asks, "Where is the prince?!"

'Even these reinforcements, who were too close to think their intervention wasn’t planned, didn't know,' Ethan thinks. 'Maybe they planned for an attack, knowing it was likely, but still involved the prince, only for him to ditch them.'

A woman, Thea Downstar, daughter of the regent, appears from the palace-sided shield line. She wears her leather armor and a white, hooded coat. She enters the palanquin and throws out cloths, making sure he isn't hiding under them.

Her two guards, the same as in the Hammered Heart smithy, follow her. One of them pulls her out of the palanquin by the arm. He commands, "You shouldn't be here; this is a battlefield."

Thea slivers her arm out of his grasp and scans the scene. Her eyes fall on Ethan; she moves towards him. As she nears him, Ethan realizes she's now as small as she was in his vision of a ball. She asks, "Adventurer, where did the prince go?"

"I didn't see him leaving the palanquin," Ethan answers. Did she select him because of his calm or because she recognized him?

"You control your aura perfectly; you sensed his, do not lie," Thea hisses. Her guards come after her, their eyes on Ethan.

"Then he never was in the palanquin," Ethan capitalizes on her assumption. It makes Ethan think that rings of aura manipulation might be rare.

She holds his gaze for an eternity, trying to read his controlled expression. "Come with me!" Thea orders, motioning for Ethan to follow her.

"I am not a guard you can order around," Ethan retorts. She must want to interrogate him. The situation is turning too likely to expose Ethan's identity; he must find a way out.

"We must object," one of her guards says. He moves closer to her, his hand open, ready to catch her arm. "You will not go after the prince; you are to remain with us and, I must insist, return to the palace."

Thea moves away from her guard and towards Ethan. He extends his hand, ready to summon his blade as she comes at him. Instead of an attack, she grabs his arm. Before she can speak, Ethan is taken to a vision.

The world turns into a large room with high walls and an arched ceiling. Scarce candles light the place, illuminating a figure with flickering lights. Ethan finds himself hidden from them behind a column; a young woman hides at its feet. She looks like a younger Thea, perhaps in her late teens.

Thea gasps, looking directly at Ethan. He glances behind himself, trying to see what surprised her. She grabs his arm to pull him behind the pillar. "Don't worry; this is a vision; it's not real."

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Did you drag me here?" Ethan asks. He wonders if she could be another high human, one dotted with Pastseer.

"I'm an Oracle. But I usually have to meditate and expand Ether for hours to even get a glimpse of the future," Thea says. She peeks from the pillar towards the figure, and then moves back into hiding. "I know where we are. This shouldn't be possible; I do not have visions of the past. But I know it is because I was there, looking exactly like that, hiding behind that pillar."

"What is supposed to happen?" Ethan asks. The figure waits by a central altar.

"It's better if you see; I doubt you would believe me otherwise," Thea answers. She peeks back out, looking towards imposing stone doors at the other end.

The doors open, pushed by a large figure in a fur mantle. A crown rests on his greying hair, bearing ambers. "What is it, Dawnstar? Why did you summon me to this old temple? Couldn't we have had this conversation in my court?"

"I fear not," the waiting figure answers. He descends from the altar's stairs to meet the king's level. With his face turned in their direction, Ethan recognizes facial features the man shares with Thea. "I have information only you should be made aware of."

"Then speak, Dawnstar," the king commands. He stops a few paces away from the future regent. Under his fur mantle he wears a cobalt blue tabard and a silver breastplate. A long sword hangs in its sheath from his hip. Where did this meeting take place for the king to come armored and armed?

"I fear there are spies amongst your court, your majesty," the future regent says.

"Who?! Give me names, Dawnstar," the king bellows. His voice turned to anger in an instant.

A deep, resonating voice comes from beyond the doors. "They are closer than you would think." A knight in jet-black armor crosses their threshold. This is the armor of Caelum Cindralis, perfectly articulated plates with no gap to exploit. His sword rests in his hand, held to the side.

"What is the meaning of this?!" the king asks. He pushes away his cape with a wide arm motion before unsheathing his own sword. "Who are you?"

"You would not remember me, even if I told you my name. I have been away for quite some time," Caelum says with a chuckle. It's his unmistakable voice. "Imagine my surprise when I find out your kind not only festered in my absence, but that you also hoarded what I need."

"What are you talking about?!" the king asks. He glances at the future regent and whispers, "Fetch the guards."

The regent flees through a door at the altar's back.

Caelum follows him with his gaze but doesn’t act. Instead, he spins his sword before resting it on his shoulder. "We do not have to fight. I merely need you to open your family vault; there are belongings of mine inside."

"How do you know about its existence?" the king asks. He falls into a stance, his blade leveled at Caelum's head.

"It was built by a friend of mine," Caelum reveals. "I wouldn't have dared think it would one day fall in the hands of a parasite like you. And yet here we are. So, what will it be? Will you hear my request? Or do I have to take you there by force?"

"I do not know what gives you such confidence," the king says. His muscles swell, filling his armor and widening his frame. The king's blade covers with ice, casting a descending mist.

"Of course," Caelum says, holding a finger.

The king moves back, his stance failing as he narrows his eyes in discomfort. The freezing mist on his sword vibrates, scrambled by an unseen force.

"It was unbearable," Thea says. Her hands shake as she speaks. "It was my first time sensing someone's aura; I passed out until he restrained it."

The king charges, his blade singing through the air. Caelum meets the attack with ease, holding off the king's blade with the strength of his wrist.

The king roars, unleashing a flurry of attacks Caelum deflects with ease. If Caelum wanted, he could kill the aging king at any moment. This is a game for him as he shares speed and reflexes with Aranthor.

With an upward slash, Caelum disarms the king, sending his sword skittering across the floor. He chains with attacks that dig through the king's armor, cutting shallow gashes in his chest.

The king hurls his disarmed hand to Caelum's chest; a bang detonates, echoing off the room's walls. Caelum's armor hums as it vibrates from the king's spell or ability.

"It is a shame your kind never recovered from Aranthor's reign," Caelum says. He grabs the king's hand and snaps his elbow by overextending his forearm. "To think those who trample over millions of subjects would be so weak. Tell me, king, when did you last take what you wanted with your own hands? When did you last fight for your own survival?"

The king, trembling, reaches for his discarded sword. Caelum doesn’t stop him; he seems amused by the effort. The monarch grips the hilt in his left hand and struggles to his feet. His ice enchantment reforms as frost creeps along the edge.

"You said I would not remember you, but I know who you are, Cindralis," the king says. Sweat beads from his forehead as he winces in pain, his right arm dangling. "My ancestor would have never called you a friend. Traitor is the better title."

Caelum laughs, the low sound reverberating through the chamber. "I'm the one who was betrayed! They gave up our vision the moment they smelled power. Ruling other mankind, decaying in its opulence, gawking in the cults they caused."

"Had you not betrayed them, we would live in a world free of disasters," the king growls. "Aranthor's rule brought peace for mankind. He may have weakened the masses and shunned the gods, but in doing so he hindered the powers that feed the birth of monsters."

"He kept them docile so they may serve his whims!" Caelum booms. He swings at the king's sword, cutting through the blade. "The natural order was never meant to be shackled! We were meant to thrive through power and unbridled will! Everyone will soon be reminded of it; I bring with me a new opponent. One you pacified lambs, and the weak monsters they birth will crumble against. And when they do, I'll be here to restore the natural order."

"I wouldn't count on it," the king says. A bang resonates, muffled as if coming from inside something organic. Blood squeezes out of the king's mouth and nose, and he falls to his knees. "My bloodline ends with me, traitor. No one will open the vault for you; your plan is dead."

"Bastard!" Caelum growls. He kicks the king to the ground. "You dare oppose me? No matter; your bloodline doesn't end with you. Ten years until he’s thirteen is a short time for me."

"How?" the king mutters, drowning in his blood.

The future regent reappears from behind the altar, his steps echoing. A smile on his face, he says, "Expecting me to not realize my son wasn't my own was stupid, Sigmund. The revelation will shake the public, but with your death they will accept him; less they suffer under your brother-in-law."

"I thrusted you," the king mutters, his voice leaving him. His breathing slows to a stop, his lungs filling with blood. "I wronged you; do not doom them because of it."

"You wouldn't understand," the future regent says. "There is a vision I'll do anything to fulfill. If I have to step on a pile of corpses for it, so it will be."

Thea lowers her gaze as she hears him. She mutters, "Everything is my fault. If I hadn't told him what I saw, he would have never betrayed the king."

"It puts us on a tight schedule," Caelum says. He kicks the king's lifeless body. "But it won't delay anything. Coincidentally, the planes won't be near for another ten years. We'll still have to wait two months after his thirteenth birthday. I'll leave that task to you; do not disappoint."

"Yes, master," the regent says.

"When is the prince's thirteenth birthday?" Ethan asks.

"Today," Thea reveals. She wraps her arms around her knees, sliding against the pillar to hide her head in her arms. "I tried to follow him all day. I saw him to the palanquin and followed the parade."

"Do you have any idea of where they could have taken him?" Ethan asks. "Where is that vault?"

"Near the temple we are in right now," Thea says. She starts to shake as her voice breaks down. "It's under the palace, in the old city. But if that man returned, I can't do anything."

"I'll kill him," Ethan says, his anger barely controlled. He extends his hand to help her to her feet. "That man's name is Caelum Cindralis, and I'll stop at nothing to see him dead."

"How?" Thea asks. She grabs Ethan's hand and stands up. "How do you know him?"

"He robbed and murdered my father and burned down my home," Ethan reveals. Given what happened in this vision, the truth is the easiest version for her to believe. But there is another fact that will echo with her; Ethan needs her cooperation to find this vault. "I too have visions; whatever power governs them wants me to find him."

"That's why we were pulled together; my ability must have interfered with yours," she interrupts.

"It showed me his past; the day he betrayed Aranthor Elarion amidst the Orc invasion," Ethan continues. "He had a plan then that would see millions dead, and I think he's at it again."

"That's what he mentioned would happen two months after Godfrey's birthday, isn't it?" Thea asks. "But that would make him hundreds of years old."

"He is; I think he's a high human. Those people can live thousands of years," Ethan says. His own words frightened him for a second. What if he has thousands of years to live? Ethan feels a pull on his mind, indicating the vision is about to collapse. "Guide me to that vault and I'll do the rest."

"The guards that follow me will try to stop us," Thea says. "They are my captors more than my guards."

"That won't be a problem," Ethan announces.