Wind surged as Everess slowly emerged from the depths of unconsciousness. Her eyes blinked open, revealing a surreal sight: the expansive skies stretched above, overlooking a black-laced field below. Panic gripped her as she felt the sensation of mid-air descent, but a subtle realization replaced her fear — she wasn’t falling; she was flying.

She looked around and noticed the presence of an Orderian Owl gracefully gliding beside her. Yet, a peculiar understanding dawned on her as she looked again — the situation was the reverse; she soared alongside the owl. Confusion clouded her thoughts even further; the why and how of her presence in the sky eluded her.

She was confused; she didn’t know why she was there. As she looked at the black fields below, she noticed two opposing armies standing on opposite sides of the field. With one army standing in front of a city.

Attempting to navigate her newfound aerial control, Everess slowed her flight successfully. The realization of her ability struck. She went downward as her intuition gave her a hunch of where she was and was correct; before her was revealed the Imperial army — Tamiron’s army, to be more precise. She indeed had returned to the fateful day of Tamiron’s betrayal.

Across the battlefield, Xerxecia’s army unfolded, adorned with armored Armedigors and an array of Shardonian creatures. A tingling sensation gripped her chest, a premonition of impending events. Helpless against the day’s outcome, she acknowledged the clarity bestowed upon her, drawn from relentless nightmares haunting her until this moment.

She immediately scrutinized the imperial army below, and unmistakably, atop his armored taranos, was Tamiron. Inhaling deeply, a smile adorned her face as she gazed upon her friend. Gliding toward Tamiron, flanked by two additional generals, she became a silent observer in their midst.

A concerned general, perched atop his armored white horse adorned with green and gold regalia, voiced his unease. “They just appeared out of nowhere. This isn’t their typical strategy. Ever.”

Another general, mounted on an armored brown horse mirroring the appearance of his counterpart, chimed in, “We should’ve remained within the walls of Bastominad.”

She hovered closer to Tamiron; she witnessed the gravity etched across his face. He addressed the imminent threat with a tone echoing concern for the city’s safety, “Remaining within the city won’t bode well with that massive enemy force in front of us. My army should be able to handle them, though. I’ll have to focus on taking out their ollufandes, things, and kragens though. So I won’t be able to cover the army as much as I could.”

Reassurance came from the white horse general. “Do not worry, Prince Tamiron. Our army is battle-hardened against such formidable foes. There’s a reason we don’t opt for a complete army rotation.”

“Yokonas is right, Prince Tamiron. We can hold our own ground against these giants. We do have some wild kragens and terengus back at home, so we had some experience in handling them.” Said the brown horse general.

As the echoes of confidence resonated, a moment of collective resolve settled over the generals, each acknowledging the impending clash with the colossal enemy force. Prince Tamiron, however, injected a note of realism into the atmosphere, addressing General Lakir, “The problem is, ours doesn’t compare to theirs, General And the men have not fought those types of creatures that big.” His gaze shifted to the Imperial archers and the towering walls of the city.

She then hovered above, so she could get a better look. She observed six towers positioned on the walls that faced the enemy, each boasting special open balconies.

Tamiron, breaking the contemplative silence, inquired about the Orderian magisters, “How many Orderian magisters do we have?” Tamiron suddenly asked.

“We should have one platoon within our army and one for the city’s defense.” General Lakir responded.

Tamiron seized upon this information, formulating a plan. “That should be sufficient to man those balconies. Assume command of the city garrison and organize them into formation. With our combined strength, we should be able to repel this attack,” he asserted.

Yakanos, confused, asked, “Repel? We won’t be wiping them out, Sire?”

Tamiron’s response was resolute, “We won’t be able to wipe them out. This is no ordinary clash or skirmish with a group of two or three battalions. That is an army,” he emphasized, pointing at the formidable enemy lines. “We can boast about repelling Xerxecia for years, but we must admit they are mere raiders. This is a full-fledged Xerxecian army. It will be our first encounter with a genuine Xerxecian force; organized. This is not just theoretical military scenarios anymore. Eons have passed since the Trasidar Army faced a Xerxecian Army. You and I weren’t even alive when the books chronicling those battles were written properly.” Tamiron’s explanation carried the weight of a historical perspective.

Acknowledging the gravity of the situation, General Lakir bowed and promptly headed into the city to assume command. Meanwhile, a powerful gust of wind continued to sweep through the black plains of Vagabar as midday approached. Tamiron began adjusting his gauntlets with a focused determination, preparing for the impending battle.

It was only then that she noticed the deviation from the norm — Tamiron wasn’t clad in his usual green and gold armor. The revelation aligned with the recurring imagery from her dreams, showcasing a stark shift to red and black hues. However, what seized her attention next was the Tamiron Stone — unlike the familiar emerald green she had seen before, it now gleamed in a haunting shade of blood red.

A chill ran down her spine, and cold sweat washed over her as the realization set in. Despite anticipating what lay ahead, her heart quickened, and her hands trembled.

“Alright, let’s begin,” Tamiron declared. “Prepare the spears in front,” he commanded, his voice carrying a weight of concern. “Line up the cavalry to cover the flanks on each side and get ready for a pincer maneuver. Archers, take your positions. If possible, target the hedgetross units. This battle will be bloody,” he added, his worry evident about the potential outcome of the impending clash.

“Ensure the swordsmen and spears are right behind the cavalry,” he continued, emphasizing the need to safeguard the flanks once the cavalry initiated their move. His metal-covered arms pointed out strategic details.

Turning his attention to General Yakanos, Tamiron issued final orders. “Take command of the army once I join the fray. I need to focus on neutralizing their heavy hitters. Once that’s accomplished, prepare the cavalry for a mighty charge.” He laid down his final orders, and he orchestrated the preparations, meticulously assigning roles and positions to each unit.

As Tamiron’s commands orchestrated the seamless movement of the sea of soldiers into formation, she observed the determined faces of those about to dedicate their lives to safeguard the empire. The realization of the impending clash with the enemy army slowly dawned on each soldier.

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The battlefield stirred with an almost unbearable silence, punctuated only by the haunting howls of the wind. In this solemn moment, the Prince elevated his iron fist, unleashing a thunderous war cry that reverberated across the expanse, a rallying call to fortify the spirits of his men.

“Soldiers of the Empire!” Tamiron’s voice bellowed across the field. “We have prepared for this day for years! Our forefathers and their forefathers laid the groundwork for this very moment! This day will determine the survival of the Empire!” The men responded with a resounding war cry, their faces transformed from earlier apprehension to a newfound confidence.

She stood as an observer, witnessing the remarkable shift in the soldiers’ demeanor. The air crackled with anticipation as the soldiers, once seemingly reluctant, now radiated courage. Tamiron continued, “The Empire, built and raised from the ashes of old wars, stands strong thanks to the loyalty of the people of the Trasidar Empire!” Chants of the Prince’s name erupted, echoing through the ranks.

“This day, this dire day will dictate the future, not only of the Empire, but also the future of our children and our children’s children! So are you with me?!” Tamiron’s question hung in the air, met with a resounding roar from the soldiers, an affirmation of allegiance to the Prince, the king, and the cherished empire.

The soldiers unleashed their fervor into the air, a collective declaration that echoed the unyielding spirit of a kingdom standing on the precipice of destiny.

“Then prepare for glory! For the Trasidar Empire!”

The Xerxecians shattered their formations, surging forward in a relentless charge toward the Imperial army. The Prince, a beacon of resolve, led the charge atop his taranos, prepared to sacrifice everything for his fatherland.

As the thundering steps of the two opposing forces approached a head-on collision, the Prince unleashed a resounding war cry. His iron gauntlets, once unassuming, expanded into mighty fists, each the size of a small shield. Vaulting from his taranos, he slammed the ground with formidable force, rupturing the earth and sending fissures toward the approaching enemy.

The adversaries halted in awe as the earth cracked right in front of them. The ground exploded from beneath them, creating a devastating crater that fractured the enemy line. An opening emerged, granting the Imperial army a strategic advantage.

The clash between the two forces ignited a brutal and deadly bloodbath. The air resonated with screams of pain, the relentless clashing of swords and spears, the whistling of arrows, and the thunderous charge of horses. As an observer, she bore witness to the unfolding chaos in its entirety.

Searching for Tamiron amidst the tumult, she located him amidst the chaos. Tamiron, his iron fists a force to be reckoned with, had already vanquished the majority of the kragens and terengus. However, the tide of battle seemed against them. In response, Tamiron signaled his cavalry to join the fray, urging them to charge and break the enemy lines.

With thunderous hooves and unwavering determination, the cavalry charged into the enemy ranks, creating a seismic disturbance that rolled down the plain like thunder, carving a gap for the rest of the army to exploit. The battle raged on until, at last, the Trasidars seized the upper hand.

As she gazed at the sun, now inching closer to dusk, she sensed the imminent conclusion of the battle. Her eyes turned eastward, where she recalled the ominous bright red light emanating from. In mere moments, it materialized.

A sudden burst of bright red light enveloped the field, momentarily blinding the soldiers. Her attention shifted to Tamiron, who faced the radiance when it struck. He appeared wounded, and she hovered closer as he struggled, his soldiers forming a protective circle around him to afford some breathing space. Moments later, a sudden stillness overcame him.

Aware of what would unfold, she witnessed a soldier approaching Tamiron, now kneeling. A scream erupted from him as he turned on his own forces, unleashing an onslaught that shattered the morale of the imperial army.

“Tamiron, no!” she shouted, but it was all in vain. Tamiron began his onslaught upon his own army as they routed towards the city.

Amidst the chaos, some attempted to flee, while others futilely sought to reason with the Prince, only to meet a tragic end. The Prince, relentless in his assault, pursued each one, manipulating the earth beneath their feet and ruthlessly extinguishing every last man.

As the dust settled, dusk cast its somber shroud over the aftermath of the battle. Tamiron, now with glowing red eyes, joined the enemy forces, who promptly escorted him away. Death lingered in the air, and the once-heroic Prince had become an unwitting harbinger of their own destruction.

“This is what transpired on that fateful day,” Lyo’s voice unexpectedly resonated within her mind. “Now armed with the truth, you must unveil the reality of those events, sway others to your cause, and ensure Tamiron’s survival,” she continued, the realization settling in that Lyo’s communication occurred within her thoughts.

The words echoed repeatedly in her mind as her surroundings plunged into darkness, a pitch-black void. Gradually, she opened her eyes, greeted by the unsettling sight of a spear pointed at her.

Wide-eyed, she took in the scene—the Imperial soldiers had surrounded them. The others, equally bewildered, grappled with the abrupt change in their surroundings, realizing they were no longer within the Eldemenster Temple.

Aderon, his displeasure evident, retorted, “You dare point a spear at me?”

Curious soldiers questioned their presence, demanding answers. Sevidon, attempting to defuse the tension, raised his hands and asked, “Who is in charge here?”

“Why would you like to know?” the soldier retorted.

Ravaen, feeling the weight of frustration, groaned and asserted, “I am the Mystic Falcon Prince. I demand to see the one in charge, and they will vouch for our identity. For now, lower your weapons and bring someone in charge.”

Another soldier approached, exchanging hushed words with the apparent captain. It became clear that he held authority over the group.

“I’ll handle this if you claim to be the Mystic Falcon Prince. But be warned, if they confirm that you are indeed spies of the Arch Chancellor, your lives will be forfeit,” the captain declared, a stern warning hanging in the air.

“What? Spy? We were summoned for a mission by him. What is happening here?” Glaivel interjected, frustration coloring his words.

“Let’s stay calm for now and wait for the person in charge,” Kaira suggested in a composed manner. Her concern then shifted towards her. “Are you alright? You were the last one to wake up,” she inquired with genuine worry.

“I am. Thank you,” she responded promptly. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know. It seems like we’re inside some kind of camp,” Kaira replied swiftly.

“Everess?”

A voice interrupted, and she turned to find Princess Tamara Lluch standing before her, with her captain of the guard and her handmaiden beside her.

“Princess Tamara?” Everess expressed her bewilderment at her unexpected presence.

“How did you get here?” Tamara inquired curiously.

“We don’t know. We just woke up here,” Everess quickly replied.

“Can you ask your men to lower their spears?” Ravaen interjected, offering a smile toward Tamara.

“That depends,” Tamara replied, her smile replaced by a serious demeanor. “Are you still planning to kill my brother?”

The question left her stunned. She grappled with the dilemma of how to respond, having already made up her mind with the others, with one still undecided and two firmly committed to their course. Yet, with this newfound information, a common goal seemed attainable. She realized the need to convey this to the others, but it was equally crucial for Princess Tamara to be informed to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control.

As she pondered Princess Tamara’s challenging question, uncertainty clouded the air. Tamara’s evident distress hinted at a troublesome state, making it a delicate moment to raise such a sensitive topic. She realized the weight of her words in the fragile balance of emotions.

With Tamara’s turbulent state in mind, she faced a critical decision—to navigate this conversation with utmost care, choosing words that could bridge understanding rather than exacerbate existing tensions. The stakes were high, and she couldn’t afford to make matters worse.

As the gravity of the situation settled upon her, she couldn’t help but cast a hopeful glance toward her companions. Glaivel and Aderon, in particular, held pivotal roles in the unfolding events. The looming uncertainty left her yearning for a united front, a shared perspective that could navigate the complexities that lay ahead.

A question that could very well test their alliances and destinies interwoven. The shadows of uncertainty lingered, and the future remained veiled, leaving her with a burning desire to uncover the threads that connected them all.

End of Chapter XXVII