The night was cold, with only a sliver of moonlight to guide them along the winding road. The path eastward was narrow, flanked by dense forests that seemed to press in on them from both sides. The air was heavy with tension, and despite the distant chirps of crickets, the silence felt suffocating.

Henry rode ahead, his eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of danger. Beside him, Princess Sophia remained steadfast, her white flag tied to her saddle, swaying slightly with each trot of her horse. Behind them, Heather and a small contingent of knights rode in formation, their faces grim, each one aware of the dangers that could await them on this uncertain journey.

For the first time since they had left the city, Sophia spoke. “Henry, do you think this will work?”

Henry didn’t answer immediately. He had been turning the same question over in his mind since they passed through the gates. The truth was, he didn’t know. The revelation of the prophecy could unite the factions, but it could also spark greater chaos. Both of her brothers were blinded by ambition, and now anger. There was no telling how they would react once they learned the truth.

“I don’t know, Sophia,” Henry finally said, his voice low but steady. “But if it doesn’t, we’ll have to make a run for it until the Twilight Order finds us.”

Sophia sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I just hope we’re not too late. If they’ve already moved their armies, there may be no turning back.”

Henry, riding slightly behind them, spoke up. “They haven’t launched a full-scale assault yet. If they had, we would’ve seen the fires from the city. There’s still time.”

Heather glanced over at Henry, admiring his strength and at the same time hopeful they were riding to their death.

“We’ll get through this,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

As they continued eastward, until they could see the armies on the horizon. Just as dawn creep over the horizon, casting a dim light over the landscape, they rode to the center of the battlefield.

“Peace!” Sophia shouted grabbing the flag from a knight. "Peace!" she shouted again, her voice echoing across the expanse. Her words seemed to hang in the air, defying the tension that crackled between the assembled forces of Phillipe and Philonous.

The armies on either side, poised for battle, froze at the sound of Sophia’s voice. The sight of her, flanked by Henry and Heather, holding the white flag aloft, sent a ripple of disbelief through the ranks. Soldiers exchanged wary glances, unsure of how to react, their hands hovering over weapons that had been ready to spill blood just moments before.

King Phillipe’s banners fluttered to the north, and on the south, King Philonous’s forces stirred, whispers of confusion spreading like wildfire through the ranks. No one had expected the princess to appear here, let alone calling for peace in the midst of impending war.

Sophia nudged her horse forward, the sound of its hooves echoing eerily in the stillness. “I demand to speak with both kings!” she shouted, her voice clear and unwavering despite the tension crackling through the air. “This conflict has to stop. The Goddess has shown me darker forces at work, and if we continue down this path, we will all fall into ruin!”

Henry followed closely, his gaze sweeping across the armies, his grip tightening on his reins. He could feel the weight of countless eyes on them, and every fiber of his being remained on high alert. Any wrong move, any sudden shift in the mood of the armies, and this fragile attempt at peace could shatter.

A figure emerged from the northside, breaking away from the rows of Phillipe’s knights. The king himself, armor gleaming in the early dawn light, rode forward slowly, his expression unreadable. His troops parted for him as he approached, but the tension on his face was clear.

On the southside, King Philonous looking pale and weakened but determined, rode toward the center as well. His armor, less polished and his presence less imposing, nonetheless carried the weight of authority. He met his sister’s gaze, a hint of curiosity mingled with suspicion in his eyes.

Both kings halted a short distance from Sophia. The battlefield, moments ago on the verge of erupting in bloodshed, was now frozen in time, with all eyes on the three siblings standing at the heart of it.

“Peace?” Phillipe’s voice cut through the silence, harsh and disbelieving. “You ride into the middle of a battlefield, waving a white flag, and expect me to believe you seek peace after everything that’s happened?”

Philonous, while quieter, watched Sophia warily, his brow furrowed. “This is unexpected, sister. What exactly are you hoping to achieve here?”

Sophia, her posture tall and regal, met their eyes one by one. “I’m here because you’re both being manipulated. Forces far darker than either of you realize are moving against us. This war, these assassinations—it’s all part of a larger scheme designed to tear the empire apart.”

Phillipe scoffed, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “More excuses. I should have known.”

Sophia pressed on, ignoring her brother’s barb. “They are using this conflict to their advantage. They want us divided, at each other’s throats. If we continue down this road, the empire will fall into their hands. They don’t care who sits on the throne, as long as it’s weakened and ripe for conquest.”

Philonous shifted in his saddle, frowning. “And you expect us to believe this conspiracy is real? That everything, from the failed assassination on me to this war, is all part of some grand conspiracy?”

“Yes, I swear it on Goddess Demeter” Sophia swore.

The battlefield remained eerily quiet, the soldiers on both sides hanging on every word. The air was thick with uncertainty as both kings considered what they’d heard. Phillipe’s eyes flickered between his sister and Henry, suspicion warring with the possibility that they were telling the truth.

“If this is true,” Phillipe said slowly, “then why should we trust you? What proof do you have?”

Sophia lifted her chin, meeting her brother’s challenge head-on. “Lord and Lady Brown are from a different organization. An organization opposed to the conspirators. They were sent by their order to secure peace. I have been messaging their organization’s leaders for weeks. Here are the messages they sent, look, read them yourself. Every word I said is true.”

Phillipe and Philonous hesitant took the letters. Their gaze turned the messages reading them in disbelief.

Sophia’s voice was steady, but there was a steeliness in it now. “If you don’t believe me, or the letters, believe my oath the Demeter. We must join forces or the empire will crumble, and by the time you realize what’s happened, it’ll be too late.”

Phillipe hesitated, but Philonous nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “If what you’re saying is true,” he said quietly, “then we’ve been fools.”

Sophia glanced between her brothers, the final moments of this delicate negotiation hanging in the balance. “There’s only one way to find out. A truce—until we can uncover the truth for ourselves. If I’m lying, kill me, and return to your war. But if I’m right, continuing this fight will destroy us all.”

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A long silence followed, the weight of her words sinking in. Phillipe and Philonous exchanged a glance, and for the first time in years, there was no hostility between them—only uncertainty.

Philonous was the first to speak. “A truce, then. Temporary, until we can investigate these claims together.”

Phillipe narrowed his eyes, clearly still conflicted, but after a tense moment, he nodded. “Agreed. A truce—for now. But if you’re lying, Sophia, you spend eternity in prison.”

Sophia allowed herself a small breath of relief. “Let’s meet at Elm’s Root ruins. Bring whoever you trust, but no more than necessary.”

Both kings nodded in agreement, and with a final glance, they turned their horses and rode back toward their armies. The battlefield remained eerily silent as the soldiers, too stunned to speak, watched their leaders retreat.

As soon as the kings were out of earshot, Sophia turned to Henry and Heather. “It maybe fragile, but it’s still peace?”

“Congratulations, highness,” Heather complimented.

Sophia gave her a tight smile, though there was exhaustion in her eyes.

Henry, having remained silent until now, finally spoke, “When the Night Order learns of this, there they won’t wait long before making their next move.”

…

A tired goblin rushed breathless and knelt outside a grand, oversized carriage, and nervous gave the bad news “My lord, forgive the intrusion! Our spies report the princess rode into the battle with a flag to demanding a truce between her brothers. We don’t know what she said, but both kings agreed to a truce.”

Hearing the report from his minion, a massive figure sat with an annoyed expression. The unusually large carriage, designed specifically to accommodate the giant orc inside. Grersag, a towering figure three times the size of a normal man, was a 3-star general from the Night Order. He radiated power and authority. He was annoyed to have been summoned to this backwater region to clean up his subordinate’s mess.

The bad news only made Grersag’s scowl deepened. He had no patience for the political games of lesser men; his only loyalty was to the Night Order, and his only objective was to achieve their goals through any means necessary. The failed assassination attempt on the Twilight Order’s operative had been an embarrassment. His subordinates’ failure was unacceptable.

"They can't even carry out a simple task," Grersag muttered under his breath, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very walls of the carriage. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."

Grersag's eyes narrowed as he considered his next steps. He knew that invading Grand City would provoke a reaction—not just from the Twilight Order, but from the warring factions of Phillipe and Philonous as well. Yet, he relished the thought of the chaos he could create. By playing them against each other, he could weaken their positions and sow further discord. The more divided they were, the easier it would be to control the situation and bend it to the Night Order's will.

He turned to his second-in-command, a wiry orc with a face scarred from countless battles, who sat across from him in the carriage. "Prepare the troops. We’re going to hit Grand City with everything we've got. I want every goblin, wolf rider, and orc ready for combat by nightfall. We’ll create such confusion that neither those imbeciles won’t know who to fight."

The minion nodded, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "As you command, General. The men are eager for a real fight."

Grersag leaned back, his massive frame causing the carriage to groan under the strain. "Good. Let them hunger for blood. We will turn this city into a battlefield, and in the chaos, we will seize control. Then we’ll destroy those spineless middlemen. We’ll remind then, that in war, there is no middle ground!"

…

At the break of dawn, the ruins of Elm's Root stood as a solemn reminder of the empire's past, now playing host to the most fragile truce in its history. The fortress, once a proud stronghold, was now a skeleton of moss-covered stone and crumbling battlements. Long cracks lined the ancient walls, illuminated by the pale morning light. Yet within its weathered structure, a new battle brewed—not with weapons, but with words.

Inside the roofless hall, the imperial heirs—Sophia, Phillipe, and Philonous—stood around a stone table worn down by time. The atmosphere was tense, thick with the unspoken blame that had been festering for months. Their respective armies, camped just outside the ruins, eyed each other with suspicion and hatred, their hands never far from their weapons. Despite the agreed truce, it was clear that the armies of Phillipe and Philonous were far from unified, the mistrust between them as palpable as the cold air.

Sophia stood at the head of the table, the only sibling seated. Her exhaustion was evident, but her resolve remained unshaken. She had brokered the truce and now had the burden of holding it together.

Phillipe, armored and impatient, leaned against the far wall, his sharp gaze fixed on his sister. His presence, as always, radiated ambition and mistrust. Philonous, still weakened from the assassination attempt, sat quietly, but his expression showed a growing suspicion of his brother. Neither could forget that they had nearly lost their lives at each other's hands.

Phillipe broke the silence first, his tone sharp. “Tell me, Sophia, what do you expect from this? Do you really think that the Night Order is behind all of this, manipulating us like children? Or is this just another one of your power plays?”

Sophia met her brother's gaze, unflinching. “I don’t expect anything from you but to listen. You both know that this war will destroy the empire. There are darker forces at work here, and if we don’t unite, we’ll hand them everything they want.”

Philonous, pale but focused, spoke next, his voice tired but steady. “This conspiracy of yours, Sophia… even if it’s true, why would we trust each other now? We’ve all been targeted. I nearly died, Phillipe nearly died. How can we be sure that the Night Order is to blame and not one of us?”

Sophia sighed, feeling the weight of their words pressing down on her. “Because we have evidence, and you’ve both seen it. The assassinations, manipulation, the letters—it’s all connected. The Night Order wants chaos, and we’re giving it to them. The longer we’re divided, the more power they gain.”

Phillipe crossed his arms, his dark eyes narrowing. “Evidence is one thing, but I still see a crown to claim, and you’re asking me to set it aside based on some letters and your word. What guarantee do I have that this isn’t just a ploy to get Philonous and me out of the way so you can claim the empire for yourself?”

Sophia’s patience was wearing thin, but she kept her tone measured. “The guarantee is that if we keep fighting, there won’t be an empire left to rule. I’ve sworn an oath to Demeter. If I’m lying, then strike me down here and now. Why not pray and ask the gods for wisdom yourself. This is bigger than any of us.”

Philonous leaned forward, his expression softening slightly. “Sister, the gods do not respond to my prayers. So what are you proposing, Sophia? That we lay down our arms and join forces? That’s a tall order, considering the blood that’s been spilled.”

Before Sophia could answer, the heavy sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the chamber. A lone messenger, visibly shaken and out of breath, entered the room. He bowed hastily, his face pale.

“My lords, my lady… we have urgent news. Scouts from both camps report the same—there is a goblin horde approaching from the west. Thousands strong. They’ll reach the ruins before the nightfall.”

The tension in the room shifted immediately. Phillipe straightened, his jaw tightening. “A goblin horde? Now?”

Philonous stood, his face pale with disbelief. “How many?”

“Thousands, my lord. And they’re moving fast. Goblins, orcs, wolf riders—an army.”

Sophia’s heart sank. “The Night Order. This is their strike.”

Phillipe’s anger flared. “I knew it. This is all a setup! Sophia is this your doing?”

Sophia stepped forward, her voice firm and commanding. “Brother, if I wanted you to face monster army, would I do when I’m in your camp? Do think I have a death wish, to die with my brothers? Listen to me! This is exactly what I’ve been warning you about. They wanted us at each other’s throats while they tear through the empire. Our truce must have been the tipping point.”

The room was silent for a moment, tension hanging in the air like a drawn sword. Finally, Phillipe exhaled sharply and gave a stiff smirk. “Fine. We fight together. My army will take the north flank. Don’t die Philonous, I already showed you mercy once, I won’t show it again.”

Philonous clenched his fists, still fuming. “I won’t die here. Not like this. Generals, prepare our men to fight. We’ll take the south flank.

“I’ll take the center,” Sophia interrupted, “Henry rally the city guards. Tell my knights to quickly prepare for battle.”

Henry said nothing, he only nodded.

Philonous, still pale but determined, marched out first shouting orders to his soldiers.

Phillipe turned on his heel, barking orders at his own men.

Sophia watched them both go, relief mingling with dread. The armies outside, though still filled with animosity, would soon have no choice but to fight side by side. She only hoped they could hold their hatred at bay long enough to survive what was coming.

Henry and Heather moved to her side as Sophia said quietly. “Demeter help us.”

Outside the ruined walls of Elm’s Root, the sound of horns began to echo across the landscape as both armies scrambled to prepare for the oncoming horde. The once-still morning air was now filled with the clatter of armor and the hurried shouts of soldiers as they fortified their positions. The rumble of the approaching goblin horde grew louder, like a distant thunderstorm rolling across the plains.

Sophia took one last look at the crumbling ruins around her and steeled herself for the battle ahead. The fate of the empire now rested not on the outcome of this meeting, but on the blood that would soon be spilled in the shadow of Elm’s Root.

The horde was coming, and the time for words was over.