The question lingered in the air, as heavy as the silence that had settled upon the group. Arteus stared at Ava and Tobias, their hushed whispers carrying the weight of secrets yet untold. His mind raced with scenarios, each more perplexing than the last.

Was she a true goddess, or another player in the grand deception that was the prophecy?

And what could she possibly want with Tobias, the man who had separated Barley, and now bore the weight of the world upon his shoulders?

Whatever the case, it was too soon to notify the other survivors of Tobias' presence in Sovereign.

For the ragged remnants of Barley, who had placed their trust in his steadfast protection, remained blissfully unaware of the potential tempest that brewed in the shadows of their fragile peace. The mere mention of the name 'Tobias', the second in command of the village's divided factions, would surely incite a maelstrom of passionate discord among them.

Thus, with the gravity of his burden weighing heavily upon his soul, Arteus resolved to keep this disturbing sight a secret, at least for now. He knew not whether it was fate or mere happenstance that had granted him this solitary knowledge.

Yet, as he turned away, his eyes met Lilly's. Her gaze was a mirror to his own confusion and concern, for she too had caught sight of the furtive encounter between Ava and Tobias. Her eyes searched his, seeking an answer that neither of them had. The silent acknowledgment that passed between them was as potent as any spoken vow, binding them together in this newfound shared secret.

And that's how, the weary procession of Barley's survivors settled into the city hall, marking the end of their arduous journey to the City of Sovereign. Yet, the true trials of the night were only just beginning to unfold, unseen by all but the watchful eyes of Arteus and Lilly.

In the ensuing hours, Kathleen Bower, a lady of poise and eloquence, recounted the fateful sequence of events which had led Sovereign unto its dire plight. The very essence of its being, the where and when, and the dreadful how of its grim situation.

For though Sovereign bore the hallowed title of holy city, it was a title that clung to the city from times long past when pilgrims would end their pilgrimage in the city, seeking the divine wisdom and protection that it was said to emanate from its very stones. Now, those same stones were stained with the tears of the forsaken and the blood of the lost.

The Sovereign they had entered was not the gleaming bastion of piety it's title suggested. Instead, it had become a haven for those who had grown fed up of the laws of all-sky, a sanctuary for the outcasts and the sinners. The whispers of the streets spoke of a different kind of worship, one where coin ruled the night and whispers of sweet relief could be bought with a price. It was a city where the gleaming eyes of the whores outshone the stars that had once looked down upon its gleaming spires, their laughter a siren's call to those lost in the prophecy's abyss.

So, when the seven horns of the second birth had rung out over Sovereign, it was not to the jubilant cries of believers eagerly anticipating their ascension to divine grace. Instead, the city quivered with the whispers of sinners, their eyes cast downward in fear of the eternal damnation that the prophecy's shadow threatened to unleash upon them. The very air of Sovereign had grown thick with the stench of desperation, a stark contrast to the heavenly incense that once filled its streets.

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This dread and horror swept through the city like a tempest, leaving in its wake not a single heart untouched, be it young or old, that did not quiver with the anticipation of an end most horrific.

Sovereign hastened to fortify herself, raising barricades and digging trenches as though in preparation for the final battle 'twixt heaven and hell. Far from the sanctified bastion of old, she now lay exposed, her true nature laid bare before the advancing horrors of under-realm.

The denizens of Sovereign chose to stand firm. To wage a war against the tide of damnation that sought to consume them. A unity of purpose and resolve bound them as they readied themselves for the inevitable clash.

Their city, once a bastion of faith, had become a fortress of fear, her walls echoing with the footfall of a standing army, primed and eager to safeguard their kin from the malevolence without.

For a brief moment, it seemed as though their valor and preparation would suffice to stave off the abyss. The first wave of darkness was met with the gleaming steel of swords and the fiery determination of a people clinging to the tattered threads of hope.

But alas, fate had a twist in store for Sovereign.

From the dense, shadowy forest that surrounded the city, a hoard of yeti emerged. Creatures of legend and nightmare, they stumbled forth, their fur mottled with the frost of the prophecy's touch. Their eyes, once the gentle amber of the setting sun, had turned to a fiery crimson, filled with the malice that the prophecy had spawned. They moved with a hunger that was palpable, a hunger that no mere creature of flesh and bone could satisfy. The yeti had been driven from their secluded homes in the frosty embrace of the prophecy, their hearts and minds corrupted by the dark whispers of the divine.

The very earth trembled beneath their monstrous tread, as they descended upon the city in a coordinated onslaught that spoke of an intellect far beyond the beasts of the natural world. Their claws, like the very talons of the underworld itself, raked through the city's defenses, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake.

The walls of Sovereign, once proud and unyielding, now bore the grim etchings of the yeti's wrath, a stark testament to the city's suffering. The lives lost, the cries of the innocents, the chaos that enveloped the streets—all were a grim reminder of the continent's shared fate.

And through it all, the yeti pressed forth, their movements as precise and cunning as any general's strategy, cutting through the human lines with a ferocity that belied their bestial visage. It was as if some unseen force directed their every action, a puppeteer of darkness orchestrating their dance of destruction.

As Arteus, pondered upon the nature of these beasts, the truth grew clear. The creatures of the Avarician continent, once thought mere savage monstrosities, had been imbued with a cunning and purpose that surpassed mere instinct. They were instruments of a design most sinister, and the city of Sovereign was but one more pawn in the unfolding nightmare.

"So how did Sovereign survive the onslaught?," Arteus inquired with a solemn air, as the narrative that unfolded before him recounted a devastation that far exceeded the meagre traces of destruction which had met his own eyes throughout the beleaguered city of Sovereign.

"Ah, that is where our story truly begins," Kathleen responded, her eyes glazing over as if she were being touched by the divine.

For when this chaotic stage was set, and the people of Sovereign had all but lost their will to fight, a figure emerged from the heavens above. She shone with a light so pure, so radiant, that it seemed to burn away the very shadows that had come to claim them.

Her tresses, a fiery cascade of crimson, and eyes of emerald that could pierce the very gloom itself, stood firm against the encroaching doom.

This celestial being, the... 'whore' of Sovereign, whose heart burned with a purity that belied the whispers of the townsfolk, was about to cast her heavenly gaze upon the city and with it, bring deliverance from the jaws of the relentless foe.

-To Be Continued-