"THE MONUMENT BEASTS WERE YOUR SAVIORS DURING THE FIRST BLEAKNESS. THE FROSJRS MADE THEIR FIRST ATTACK ON HUMANITY. WE WERE BROUGHT TO THE BRINK OF EXTINCTION WHEN THEY APPEARED, ALONG WITH THE OBELISKS TO SAVE US."

- THE HELLFIRE CHRONICLES, HOLY BOOK OF TRAGSXT

2nd of Jirath. 1012 on the War calendar, 1 hour and 30 minutes after the Jkri Tusk attack.

Etheail was almost home when the phantom finally stopped whining. Its low-pitched yell calmed, then disappeared into nothingness.

The small part of Etheail that acknowledged the phantom as a pledgeborn felt bad for ignoring its cries, but the rest of him told this part to shut it.

He walked through the meadows of red grass, feeling accomplished. The ruined castle stood grand in the distance, illuminated by the still crimson son.

Etheail walked until he found himself on a stone path, paved centuries ago, leading to the castle.

A bone-curdling screech rang through the air.

Etheail whipped his head around with terror.

Flying high in the sky, a flock of fleshless bones with wings made of sinew held together by chunks of obsidian, its skull had a long protruding beak, accounting for half of its length, and green mist flowed from its eyes to its arms and legs.

Ira Vultures.

The insidious beasts flew through the sky as if they carried massive pieces of lumber on their backs. They were heading towards the castle.

They were coming for his people.

Etheail's body moved on its own, heaving his spear in a mildly threatening form.

Without thinking, he screamed, garnering the Ira Vulture's attention.

The beasts turned towards him sluggishly before opening their jaws in the closest thing to a sneer they could manage.

A single Ira Vulture led the rest of its pack towards him.

Despite not having a shred of a chance against them, Etheail charged, hoping the sickness wouldn't spread to him.

He warded off a few by swinging his sear around, but the leader ignored it, squeaking at its fellow pack to attack.

Damn.

The vultures surrounded Etheail. One swooped in, trying to infect him with its poison.

Etheail dodged, but he couldn't keep it up for long.

Luckily, the sky went dark.

The Vultures took their attention off of Etheail and looked to the sky. Etheail thought he saw terror in their nonexistent eyes.

Blocking the sun was a floating island; The Obelisk of The Sky. A courageous squawk rang through the air, stunning the vultures to the point of dropping a bit.

A majestic eagle of pure white with accents of gold flowing from its solid-colored beak flew down from the Obelisk, coming straight for the vultures, trailed by golden mist.

A Monument beast! They're born and reside in the obelisks. They were rare outside of them, this was Etheail's first time seeing one, but he knew why it was here.

It was going to save him.

Monument Beasts are the mortal enemies of Ira Vultures. That made Etheail the enemy of its enemies, and Monument Beasts seemed to subscribe to that ideology.

The Monument Beast attacked the Vultures with passion and anger. Etheail wanted to help, but the eagle had glowered at him, not with rage but with warning.

The Monument Beast could take them on its own; they seemed unaffected by their position, just like Devildealers.

Etheail ran, receiving a squawk of approval from the Monument Beast.

Etheail kept running until he hit the hollow moat of the ruined castle.

Damn it! He cursed at himself. He couldn't do anything about Learu City, and he couldn't do anything about the Ira Vultures. He was useless.

Etheail gripped his spear tighter. He cursed himself, "Blood-spilled coward!" A determination started to rise inside Etheail. He was not going to be useless. Etheail turned, ready to aid the Monument Beast in its fight, but it was unnecessary.

The eagle stood over the corpses, if you could even use that word for undead skeletons. It struck a pose of triumph as the blood that marred its wings burned away in the reopened sunlight.

The Monument Beast then rose back to the sky, reaching the moving Obelisk of the Sky.

Etheail took a few deep breaths, calming himself of nervousness.

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After expelling his fears, Etheail knocked on the castle's gate. "Jrui?" he asked.

"P...password!" The meakish boy said.

Etheail felt a spike of pride. There wasn't a point in asking, but he was glad the boy did.

"Orange will!" Etheail shouted.

The doors opened sluggishly while Jrui looked at him with a guilty face.

"There's a bit of a problem that you should check out in the commerce area."

Etheail sighed and jogged to the commerce area, where almost everybody was gathered. It was chaos, with everybody frantic and speaking out of turn while Uria tried to calm them.

The old man's eye lit up as he spotted Etheail, "King!" He shouted, exasperated. The people finally stopped arguing when they saw him.

Uria hobbled over and ordered the crowd to part, revealing an underfed man-probably Ilraian- in peasant's clothes. He had long unkempt hair, chapped lips, skin so thin it exposed ribs, shackles around his arms and neck, and the massive brand of slavery seered onto his back.

Etheail gulped; there was only one place this man could have come from. Some parts of Ilra and Sali bought slaves, but they wouldn't be this poorly taken care of. No, this man belonged to the Yjraith.

Etheail met his eyes. He expected to find them broken and dejected, but he was wrong; there was a fire in them, A determination he saw in few men besides himself.

"Etheail, you know what the Yjraiths say! We'll have to kill him; if we do anything else, they'll claim we tried to steal him and attack! We can't survive war with them!" Uria hissed.

Most members of the crowd nodded, but their faces looked disgusted. Slavery was looked down upon by most, but there was no other option then to kill the poor man.

There were a few who protested, and the argument broke out again. The righteous and the realists.

Etheail scowled; he wanted to free this man, but there wasn't any way he could.

"Stop!" Uria bellowed. The crowd quieted, listening. Uria turned towards Etheail, "You decide, lad." He said softly.

Etheail's breathing got heavier. He was king of new Lerau City, which meant he had to get blood on his hands.

Etheail dropped his spear to the ground and dragged it behind him as he slowly walked towards the slave.

"Etheail...please, don't." The phantom whispered.

"What other choice do I have?" Etheail muttered. Surprisingly, the phantom responded.

"There's always a choice..even when the consequences seem insurmountable...The world respects those who cling to their ideals, even with bruises on their face, tears in their eyes, and snot in their nose." The phantom replied.

Etheail gulped. That was the longest response the phantom had given. It really was a pledgeborn.

Etheail took another look at the slave. He had three chains; one attached to the collar around his neck and two to the gauntlets on his hands.

Etheail could almost feel the weight of the man's life in his hands, just as true as the spear.

His mind flashed to another time. 10 years ago; The night his life ended, when the Yjraith attacked Learu City.

A Woman had stabbed him when he didn't even realize he was in danger. This man had no such mercy.

Etheail still didn't know how he survived that night.

He'd been stabbed, he'd bled on the concrete floor, and then inexplicably awoke in the grass overlooking a burning city in the night.

Etheail steadied his breathing and made his decision.

The king of New Learu City raised his spear high above his head and slashed down.

Clang!. Clink.

The slave opened his closed eyes with surprise. Etheail had cracked open the collar around his neck.

He raised the spear and broke the two shackles around his arms.

Etheail turned to face his people, "There will be no slavery in this city!" He bellowed, "I know what I've done, and I've condemned you to hell with me."

Etheail closed his eyes in sorrow, but his people didn't hate him. No, they cheered him.

Etheail opened his eyes; there was not a single person upset. They believed in him, even Uria.

The phantom made a sound of approval accompanied by an image in Etheail's mind of a silhouette made of flames nodding weakly.

Etheail turned to face the slave he'd freed. "As long as you're in these walls, you are a free man." He whispered.

The slave's started eyes grew misty as his face scrunched up in joyful tears, "You hear that, Helandrin? Not all the heroes are dead." The man muttered.

"What is your name?" Etheail asked, sounding as regal as he could manage.

"Daiez, your majesty." the man said weakly.

"You're one of us now." Etheail offered.

The king turned to face his people.

"Etheail...in 154 days...they're all going to die." The phantom warned.

Etheail's blood ran cold like ice.

He started to run up to the roof, telling Uria that he needed a moment to think.

Etheail's breathing started rising again as he got to the top.

"What do you mean they're all going to die!?" Etheail demanded of the phantom.

"A danger is coming.." The nameless pledgeborn replied.

"The Yjraith?" Etheail asked, hopefully. He had a feeling that what it really was, was much worse.

"No." The phantom replied.

Etheail steadied his breathing again, "It's what you're counting down to, isn't it?" He asked.

"Yes.." The phantom replied, still weak.

"What is it?" Etheail asked.

"I...Do not know; I'm too weak still. I just know it's coming." The phantom explained.

Etheail's mind raced.

"What do I do?" He asked the pledgeborn.

"Cling to you're ideals..through the pain and suffering...never give yourself the luxury of bending them...and burn those who do wrong." The pledgeborn commanded.

Etheail swallowed, "You want me to fight?"

"Yes!" The phantom replied, his voice getting slightly stronger.

"What if I die?" Etheail asked, his voice shaky, not of fear for himself, but for his people.

"Then you will die a good man."