“No!” the Patriarch exclaimed as he rose from his kneeling prayer.

“Whether in three days’ time or a year-long siege, your city will not withstand the army that marches against you,” Sono declared.

The emperor stared coldly back at the woman who had just given his empire a death-sentence, saying nothing.

“You can’t say that!” said the Patriarch. “You can’t deny the will of Infinity! Call forth the Sept, gather Infinity’s Prophets to—”

“We are not Infinity’s Prophets, Patriarch, we are the Sevens Prophets, and we are not here to kill for your religion,” Sono said. She turned a maternal, patient face back toward the emperor, whose expression bore nothing but suppressed despair. “We are here to help you survive. We came here with the intention of offering a compromise.”

“The Prophets never intended to help?” the emperor asked.

“Not true,” Murel stated. “I would have offered we take a side had there been doubt of the outcome.”

“And now?” The statement was more a growl than a question.

“And now, we see there is no chance of your single, incomplete legion defending the city against dozens of full divisions. Therefore, you must evacuate. It is as simple as that.”

“Leave the eternal city?” the Patriarch said in an almost laughing, unbelieving tone.

“Yes,” Sono said. “If Hemend wants Eternon, let him have it. You and your citizens may go—”

“Go where? This is the only city remaining in the Truscan Empire!”

“You will have to make peace with the fact that your empire has fallen, that it fell centuries ago.”

“What blasphemy is this?” the Patriarch exclaimed as he stormed toward the group by the window. “How can you be a tool for Infinity, wielding the power of It’s gift to mankind if you lack the faith to believe in It’s will? You are not a true Prophet if you are faithless in—”

“Patriarch. Organize the clergy to pray for the city’s defense and to care for the wounded. Do it now and leave this room without saying another word,” the emperor ordered.

The Patriarch paused with his mouth open, looking hurt by both the emperor and the woman who had signed over everything he believed in to death. With a grunt, he turned swiftly and left. Nege wondered if the sheer confidence the man held came from true faith or naivety.

“You must see the position your city is in, Emperor. This is the only way your Truscan culture will possibly continue,” Sono advised the emperor as he stared at the approaching army, his own weak force assembling at the walls.

“Truscan culture? That’s what you care about saving?” Eternine asked.

“And your people,” Murel added. “Many people will die defending this city.”

“And I would die in their place if it meant saving Eternon,” the emperor snapped.

“That may well happen, Eternine,” Sono said. “But what would it accomplish? Don’t be foolish. Don’t fight for gold and the meager treasures of this city.”

“Meager treasures? I don’t fight for buildings or for churches or even for my own crown. I fight for my empire. I’ve spent my whole life trying to save this empire from collapse and I’ve barely succeeded in keeping its head above the seas. If the Truscan Empire falls—”

“It did long ago.”

“If this last vestige of the Truscan Empire falls, then civilization will be lost.”

“Romantic feelings cannot hide the inevitable, Emperor,” Murel noted.

“Murel’s right. You must flee if you value your life,” Sono said.

Eternine shook his head. “You Prophets helped us in the past. You helped us tame the wild territories in the glorious days of Trusc’s rule. Why do you turn your back on us now? You can easily fight back even the great cannons in Hemend’s army — I’ve seen the miracles you work.”

“We helped your rule of law. But your rule of Infinity was always an interference.”

“What does Infinity have to do with this?”

“Your religion is outdated and not in line with Prophet philosophy. It is time for your faith to fall so that the forces of peace may take hold.”

“Plunging my empire into flames will create peace?”

“Not initially. But your empire should know the lessons of warfare. You killed and murdered thousands under the so-called will of Infinity. You conquered and laid waste to an entire continent and when that wasn’t enough you plundered your way through Estia in the name of this new religion. Infinity’s will, I’m afraid, does not create peace.”

“We’re here to create peace, Emperor. That is why Infinity gave the Prophets their weapons long before Trusculle founded the city that began this empire. It gave us these weapons not for conquest, but for peace,” Murel added.

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“That was the past. This is the present. We’re not conquering we’re—” the emperor said before Sono interrupted him.

“You’re not conquering now, but given only the slightest influence and your religion will force its way across all of Triumph,” Sono said.

“No. No. Give us a chance to redeem ourselves. I don’t care about religion, I don’t care about your rules or the past. I only care about saving this city!”

Sono shook her head. “You will try. And you will fail, possibly die in the effort. I only wish you would see reason. The Truscan way came and went hundreds of years ago. Casting away your life for it cannot bring it back.”

“Then what will replace it? The Prophets were there when Trusc fell. You watched as all its lands in Gloria succumbed to chaos and anarchy.” Eternine paced his courtyard, turning from one direction to the next in a frantic walk. “One by one the territories went under the rule of warlords and bloodthirsty tribal kings. Piece by piece my fathers wept as civilization itself collapsed around them. Yet still this city stayed strong.” As he walked and turned to emphasize his point by staring Sono in the eye, the emperor’s gaze would always slip away and fall to the open window, his eyes going wide at the sight of the ever-nearing Teljuk army. “If it falls to barbarism as Trusc did, if this last capitol of the empire falls, then it won’t be the death note of the Truscan Empire. It will be the death note for all of Triumph.”

“Not with the Prophets guiding it.”

Murel nodded in agreement. Nege was too overwhelmed with the passions of the people around him to do anything more than lean against his thin staff.

“Then you’ve made your decision,” Emperor Eternine the Third said with despairing confidence and finality. “You will let us die so you can take control.”

“Prophets don’t control. We help,” Sono said.

“Tactically speaking, your situation is futile,” Murel added. “We can only aide you in evacuation, not defense.”

“Get out,” the emperor said, and pointed to the wide palace doors. “Get out of my palace. I have work to do and won’t let your excuses distract me.”

“As you will. But we shall stay in Eternon.”

“We want you to know we are here for peace. We will care for the wounded and help as much as we can. But fight for you…” Sono said as she shook her head. “We refuse.”

Eternine pounded his palm against the window, exhaling deeply as he stared at the approaching Teljuks, their banners just visible in the distance. “Reds can do nothing but kill. So what will the Red do to help?” the emperor asked Sono as he pointed an accusatory finger at Nege.

“We are Prophets. We come in three colors together. Nege will be protection for Murel and I incase either side in this conflict harms innocents.”

“Also,” Nege said, staring out the window at the approaching army, “I’m going to do this.”

With a bounding jump, Nege leapt out the open window and tumbled toward the palace ground. With a swing from his staff, he shot a red jolt of energy that cracked the stones below him and pushed him back up with enough force to soften his landing. Running as fast as he could, his glowing staff pumping him with energy as he went, Nege sped toward the closing city gate.

Echoing clamors of bells and shouting citizenry blended together as the Prophet ran. He tucked his staff in the crux of his shoulder and sped toward the walls like a knight with a shouldered lance. Any who saw him thought him completely mad. Only the glowing red tip of his staff, signaling to all that this was a Prophet, showed otherwise.

Passing shops as they closed their doors, square-shaped plazas with street performers hurrying to their homes, and straight-marching soldiers heading to the walls, Nege continued his maddening sprint toward the city’s gates.

The sight of a Prophet racing to the walls sent a thrill of energy into the city’s people. The Truscans knew full well the Teljuks were coming to destroy them, and the sight of a Prophet making his way to defend the city sent a battle cry throughout Eternon of, “Follow the Prophet! To the walls!”

Nege knew the effect of his presence, could feel it as easily as he could smell the dry dust in the air.

After a long while of running through the city, he came upon the gate to the first wall. As Truscan legionaries shepherded hundreds of citizens into the city, Nege ran straight toward them. Though a platoon of soldiers enthusiastically chased after the Prophet, it was his glowing staff that encouraged the people to make way.

Like a boat speeding through parting waters, Nege raced through the gate and turned. Down the gap between the city’s second and first walls he ran till he reached another gate a few hundred meters away. The lone legion defending Eternon saw all that he did, and felt now was the time to follow the Prophet. Now was the time to defend Eternon and attack before the villainous Teljuk could even reach the walls. And as Nege rounded the second gate, into the so-named valley between it and the third wall, over a hundred Truscan soldiers ran in perfect formation behind him as they exited into the Tolian Plain.

They marched only a kilometer from the walls, Nege’s glowing staff visible to all the city’s defenders, when Nege turned to face his followers. The soldiers stopped, panting from the run but still eager to follow.

Nege felt nothing but excitement from them, so he slammed his staff into the dry grass. With a swift motion he swept his staff in a long arc across his chest and pointed its tip back to the city. Without waiting to see if his hasty message was understood, Nege turned and ran once more toward the Teljuk army, its first rank just coming into view.

The Truscan soldiers got the message and stopped and watched in awe as the Prophet faded from view, racing toward Hemend’s horde by himself.

Nege saw the fluttering red banners of the Teljuk people: a yellow half-circle with a five-pointed star above it. The morning star of Teljuk, it was called, waved from hundreds of blood-red banners. Behind him, on the towers and turrets of Eternon’s walls, the flags of the Truscan Empire hung without motion. The double-headed, red eagle with a pure black circle suspended above its head between its outstretched wings, showing powerfully through a field of white, stared down the approaching army but made not a move or a sound. Nege noted how the Teljuk flags were hung horizontally, while the Truscans had always fought for vertically-hung banners, a miniscule but noteworthy difference.

The Red Prophet, who held no banner but his glowing staff, ran within sight of the marching Teljuks. There was no initial concern for this lone man, till the glow of his weapon revealed what he was. In that brief moment of recognition, the entire mass of Teljuks stopped. For one moment, one short second, the city of Eternon watched and thought that the Teljuks might flee, that their city would be spared the assault, that the eternal city would remain so. But the disciplined soldiers quickly recovered their will and prepared to face the lone attacker.

A line of cavalry raced around Nege’s side to flank him, streamers rippling off the tips of their vicious spears. A row of spearmen came to the front while musket men loaded their weapons behind them. In a matter of seconds, they prepared to fire before one voice shouted through the orders, hoof and foot beats, and snapping trigger mechanisms, “Stop!”

The voice of a White Prophet silenced the Teljuk army, and the source ran through the front lines, walking toward the spot where Nege had stopped running.

“Nege,” the White Prophet, her voice familiar to the Red, said. “Good to see you.”