Taya leaned against the corner of the lecture hall that had been cleared out for her, her face shrouded in rags.

She rarely had hours of consciousness and even when she had them, her mind was occupied with the hours she spent asleep.

Every time she fell back to sleep, she was subjected to vivid flashbacks and the horrible images and truths the Phantom Queen had exposed her to as though her Shedim were trying to show her something. But what? What more was there to show her? She already knew they were done for. All of humanity was destined to be conquered.

She fought and fought and fought without end, but it made no difference. She couldn’t lift the plague from her body. What was she meant to do?

The only thing that she actually understood was the fact that she missed her mother and father dearly.

Her father especially. She’d spent the years after his death trying to be the supportive, inspirational and stable presence he was to her.

But no one could ever replace her father. She wasn’t him. So then, what was she?

A fake.

A liar and a deceiver. Everything she claimed to be against. She lied to everyone and herself.

Should she have been so surprised that she’d failed to be like him in the end?

Hell, most of his advice was completely foolish. She’d tried, really tried, to follow it. But she had just convinced herself of a lie and nothing more at the end.

“You grow weaker every day.”

Taya looked up and glared at her Shedim. The witch she’d tried to accept. The demon who had brought her life to an end.

“What the hell do you want?” she hissed.

“For you to overcome this hurdle, Taya.”

Taya spat at the image of the Phantom Queen. “Stay away. You do nothing but fill my head with nightmares and deceive me.”

“How have I deceived you?”

“You actually convinced me for a while that I could save humanity. That I could stop Armageddon. And then you turned around and told me to my face you were lying.”

“I said you would never see your dreams realized. Is your life really so empty that you must invent words behind my statements?” the Phantom Queen asked.

“Fuck off. We both know what you meant.”

“No. I know what I meant. You...you are the deceiver.”

She knew that already.

“Taya?” a careful voice asked.

Her Shedim vanished as she looked up at Bjorn and Najeem.

“Taya! You’re awake!” Bjorn rushed over to her and enveloped her in a crushing embrace.

No. No, no, don’t do that, Bjorn. Stop it. I’m not...I shouldn’t…

She looked at Najeem. “Where are the others?” She sounded weak and sickly.

“On their way. Bjorn said he had a plan to get them into the city and challenge the Twelve. I actually need to go relay that information to them. I wanted to see you first, though. You look like shit, Sergeyev.”

With that, the Asasiyun sank into the shadows.

“Are you...okay now?” Bjorn asked.

Taya chuckled, “Am I okay now? Bjorn, I was never okay. None of us are okay!”

Bjorn frowned, “What do you mean?”

“The Old Ones, Bjorn. We can’t stop the Old Ones.” Taya insisted.

“I…”

“We stand against monsters beyond our human comprehension. Monsters who are themselves beholden to a master of all worlds and all humanity. The master we were created to serve.” Taya muttered, “I’m sorry, Bjorn. I killed us.”

Bjorn’s face grew ever more worried.

“I...I can’t keep fighting this hopeless battle. I can’t force you to quit it, but please, Bjorn. If we could escape...we could be together. Just the two of us.”

Bjorn blinked, “W-what?”

“I’m not humanity’s savior. No one is. Armageddon is beyond us. It’s so far beyond us. Our Shedim are nothing, nothing in comparis-”

Bjorn clenched his fist, “Who gives a fuck about that?”

Taya flinched at his angry tone.

“Who the hell said you had to succeed? Or that you had to think this fight was possible for it to be right,” Bjorn stood, distancing himself from her, “But if you’re too weak to even want to fight, then I guess there isn’t much I can do about that.”

Bjorn left her room, slamming the door behind him. The impact echoed in the silence that followed.

_______________________________________________________

Orhan rode back to the Koini camp with Cecile and the entire force of cataphracts on his tail.

They had raided and burned the closest supply depot by crossing the river in secret, forcing the Nikan army to camp on the other side of the river bank.

As they arrived back at camp, a soldier was waiting to take his horse for him.

“Lord Orhan, Lady Cecile. The Legates need to see you.” the soldier said.

Orhan nodded, “Thank you.”

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He dismounted his horse and handed the reins off to the soldier before joining Cecile on their way to the Grand Marshal’s tent.

The Legates were all intensely debating with each other, Ruhak and Peng included.

“Their forces are still too large, especially with the losses Sergia took!”

“If we continue to run, we won’t have the resources to fight another day!”

Ruhak was the first to notice them. He beckoned them over to him.

“What’s going on?” Orhan asked.

“Everyone’s split about how to proceed from here.” Ruhak explained.

“Everyone calm!” the Grand Marshal ordered.

That shut the Legates up.

“We still have not heard from the capital. We must have faith that the Praetorian guard and the Shedim Masters can handle whatever it is that threatens it. We must stay to our original course.”

“And if this gaggle of foreigners and a small legion can’t defeat an army at our doorstep? If they kill the emperor, the local kings and senators may drift away. The Pharaoh of Hikuptah already has petitioned for independence multiple times.” One legate said, “They will no doubt take advantage.”

“If we run back to the capital, everything between here and its borders suddenly becomes property of Nikan.” Iustinianus said, “We cannot afford to lose those supplies. The power we have here, with good tactical deployment, will be enough to crush the enemy army.”

“How to suppose we would do that?”

As the Legates argued amongst themselves, Orhan turned to Cecile, “Why are we asked to sit in on strategy meetings again?”

Cecile shrugged, “I wouldn’t know. Personally, I would like to look into those gas weapons the Nikan are so fond of.”

“Sir Marshal!”

Everyone’s head swiveled around to look at a lone legionary, who saluted, “A delegation from the Nikan has arrived.”

“Are they armed?” The Marshal asked.

“No, sir. Not a weapon or even a gift in sight. But...Prince Guanyu was among them.”

The Legates exchanged looks.

The Marshal sighed, “Bring him here.”

“Yes, sir.”

A while later, the soldier returned with Prince Guanyu, dressed in immaculate silk, with five attendants who trailed him.

“What does a Nikan prince want with a diplomatic meeting?” the Marshal leaned in his chair. “We all know your dynasty isn’t exactly known for making white peace.”

Guanyu’s eyes narrowed. “We both know that this game of cat and mouse you’ve been playing isn’t sustainable for either of us, Marshal. At this rate, both of our armies will starve and all those who’ve died will have died in vain. While your soldiers are trained, mine are devoted. Neither of them will run away.”

“What do you suppose we do to remedy this problem?” the Marshal asked.

“A duel. I will fight any champion this camp puts forward. If I win, you must surrender. If you win, I will draw this army out of your lands. Simple enough, yes?” Guanyu asked.

Orhan’s breath caught in his throat. He’d heard this ultimatum before. It was the same deal the prince had made to his village. Guanyu killed every single warrior that challenged him and razed the village.

He didn’t remember how he had won. But Guanyu was a dangerous fighter. More dangerous than perhaps any Bane Knight the Nikan had. Beat only by the Twelve and the Emperor.

“Well? What do you say? One duel until one of us can no longer fight.”

The Grand Marshal grumbled, “You have a deal, prince.”

“Splendid. I will see you tomorrow at noon.” Guanyu gave a mocking smile before he left the tent without another word.

Silence smothered the tent like a heavy wool blanket before Ruhak spoke up. “Who in the hell is going to beat him on their own?”

“I don’t know.” the Grand Marshal muttered, “But he’s right. Both armies are deteriorating. It won’t be long before deserters start leaving.”

“Should we have one of the Shedim Masters fight?” Sergia asked.

“All of us who stayed did so because we were more useful in a field battle than a duel.” Ruhak muttered, “The irony stings.”

Orhan gripped the pommel of his saber, “Even if one of us could beat Guanyu, I wouldn’t expect him to uphold his word.”

“Then we get the jump on him.” Iustinianus said, “We know we can’t defeat him one on one. Let’s get someone who can hold his ground against him. Then strike when he least expects. Peng, can your Shedim build us siege weapons?”

“Yes,” Peng raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“The army’s camped inside Emesa. I want that pillaged town to be their grave.”

______________________________________________________________________

Bjorn held his breath to keep all evidence of his existence secret as he watched the harbor from the top of a clay tiled roof.

He felt naked in the darkness, dressed only in a thin black gambeson and carrying far fewer weapons than he normally did.

Most of the rebels were back, still holding the university from being overrun. Meanwhile, he and a select few others who had a remote understanding of ironclads were waiting in the shadows.

Fifteen ironclad ships had docked and were being loaded with food and supplies by a few workers for each vessel. Soldiers oversaw them, while any Bane Knights station aboard were likely taking time off.

A disturbance in the shadows on the nearest ship rippled as a blade plunged through the highest ranking soldier there.

That was their cue.

Command structure had to be destroyed. They wanted as much chaos as possible.

Bjorn channeled his power and unleashed it onto the skies, summoning a lightning storm before drawing a throwing axe and launching it at one soldier. He leapt onto the deck of the ship and threw another guard overboard.

Their goal was to steal the ship, not kill. In fact, they would want more soldiers alive to gather reinforcements.

Several other rebels joined him on the ship and headed below deck to the engine room. Bjorn ran up the ladder to the bridge and knocked out a soldier stationed inside.

The roar of the engine starting was Bjorn’s cue to steer. Though in all honesty, he’d been given only a short rundown of the controls by someone who didn’t really know them himself.

Still, it was simple enough. The wheel controlled the rudder. The lever controlled the propulsion of the engine.

Bjorn yanked the massive lever jutting out of the wooden floor back and pulled the boat out of the docks. He pushed the lever forward and steered the ship into the entrance of the harbor, pursued by several other hijacked boats.

Alarms of all varieties rang throughout the city. Bjorn dropped the ship’s anchor and dropped to the deck, where the rebels were loading the cannons on board the ship. He waited for a significant number of Bane Knights and soldiers to gather at the docks, astounded by the sight.

He unleashed a bolt of lightning, a crack of thunder splitting the air as the docks exploded, setting fire to all the ships that the enemy could use. They were no longer trapped in the city with the Bane Knights. They trapped the Bane Knights in the city with them.

The other ironclads joined him in reforming the blockade. Now all they needed to do was wait. They were out of reach of any attack a Bane Knight could throw without having captured an Elder Shedim.

“We have things covered here, Bjorn!” Katla said from the ironclad next to his, “Go help your friends with that gate!”

Bjorn nodded. That was the first time in a long time Katla had treated him with the respect of a fellow man at arms. It was good to have her as an ally again.

Bjorn drew two throwing axes from his belt and launched them, propelled by lightning, into the walls of the harbor buildings, away from the Bane Knights and soldiers. He pulled himself in with tethers made of electricity and landed quietly out of sight.

He scaled the building nearest him, a ledger house, and made his way to the North Gate.

The streets were full of soldiers marching to the docks to help stop the hijacking.

Bjorn arrived at the North gate just as Najeem sheathed his scimitar. Bodies laid all around him, killed with such precision, Bjorn couldn’t believe a human had done it.

“It looks like you could’ve taken care of this whole gate thing all on your own.” Bjorn muttered.

“These gates were guarded by far over twenty men fifteen minutes ago.” Najeem said, “And I need an additional operator to actually open the gates.”

The Asasiyun gestured to the spoked wheels that were hooked up to the mechanism that opened the massive wooden gates. Bjorn grabbed onto one wheel and started cranking it in tandem with Najeem. Najeem pulled a lever to hold the gates in their open position.

Bjorn looked over the walls to see a mass of Koini soldiers marching into the city, headed by eleven of his allies on horseback.

“Once they’re all inside, we can take the north and west of the city for ourselves.” Najeem said.

Bjorn let out a low whistle, “How much is a legion again?”

“About five thousand men.”

Bjorn let out a small chuckle of disbelief. Victory was practically assured for them.

He dropped from the walls. “Hey! How are you guys?”

His allies looked back at him in surprise.

“Bjorn?” Gustave asked, “My god, are you alright?”

“I’m doing fine.” Bjorn shook his head. “We can catch up later. I take it Najeem explained the situation to you all?”

Shahla nodded, “I find it odd the Twelve have yet to attack you directly.”

“I think it may be because they’re afraid of Taya waking up. But nevermind that. The townspeople who have risen up against the Twelve hijacked the naval blockade they set up, but they’re being swarmed by Bane Knights. It’s only a matter of time before someone more powerful intervenes. We need to capture the docks.”

Gustave nodded, before drawing a sword from his hip, “51st Legion!”

But no one heeded his call. The Legionnaires were pointing and murmuring at a small dot in the sky.

Bjorn narrowed his eyes. The smudge had a humanoid shape to it. No, it was two people. One was flying. The other was dangling.

“What is that?” Shahla asked.

Bjorn’s eyes widened. “The Dragon. He’s holding the emperor.”

“Rebels of Koinelia!” The Dragon of Nikan’s voice boomed.

Bjorn, his allies and their legion had run to the docks, where there was no longer any presence of Bane Knights.

“Look upon the form of your emperor! If the title of emperor could even describe this slovenly, fat piece of inbred trash!” The Dragon looked down on them. “I see you there, Bjorn Stormtamer. You and your heathen. I have a prize for you all as well.”

He outstretched his hand as a limp form rose from the ground into his grasp. The figure’s green plaid tunic gave her away.

Bjorn hissed and went for his axe, but Najeem held his arm.

“He’s baiting us.” the Asasiyun said, “How, I don’t know. But we can’t afford to do anything stupid.”

Bjorn gritted his teeth, but let go of his axe.

“Taya,” he whispered, almost like he was praying, “Please wake up. Please, fight once more.”