Nyxis blinked as Cyrdel watched him take in the thing in his hands. It might not be the safest but it's the best plan they could come up with. Cyrdel met the ice sprite's eyes and gave a curt nod. Nyxis stepped back and Cyrdel moved out of his way. The ice sprite hefted an ice cube between his fingers. Here they go. It's all or nothing.

Nyxis raised his arms and swung wide, launching the ice cube as far as he could. He held his breath as the cube containing Denara sailed through the distance between them and the camp. Cyrdel prayed to all the gods he could think of. Please work. please work.

The ice cube sailed past where the alarms should be before rolling to a stop on the dry soil. They're in and not a single alarm tripped. Cyrdel made sure of that. Before Denara warped into water, he made her pattern her water-being trail into that of a stavertine ore.

The reasoning was that stavertine ore was extremely corrosive to other metals and if the alarms contained anything metal, just the very presence of stavertine could make it malfunction. So when the ice cube sailed past the alarms, the ore disrupted the main mechanism just by hitching the corrosion through the trail probe function. All of it was theory, of course.

From their perch, Cyrdel craned his neck as far as he dared. Nyxis flexed his fingers and the ice cube around Denara melted according to plan. To anyone not knowing what was going on, it would simply look like the water was going through the natural motion of following the curve of the soil as it slid towards camp. Unless, of course, someone was smart enough to figure out that first, the plain wasn't sloping downward towards the center and second, the water wasn't anything like the ordinary ones around.

Cyrdel pursed his lips as he watched the water slide into one of the open tent flaps. A flash of magic quicker than a blink later, Nyxis reported from beside him, "She's in."

Taking advantage of the newly formed link between two bonded souls was another one of Cyrdel's ideas. "Tell Denara to find her way towards the nearest alarm," Cyrdel instructed as Nyxis ducked his head to relay the same message. "I assume she knows what she must do?"

A few seconds later, Nyxis blinked and turned to Cyrdel. "Yeah, she knows."

Relief washed over Cyrdel's tight gut. The first phase of the plan went well. The next one would be harder. Not a moment too soon, Nyxis winced as a message probably snapped into his brain. "A section of the alarm system was disabled," he said.

Cyrdel steeled his nerves and resisted the urge to draw his dagger. Denara told them it's stupid to run down a plain while holding a pointed weapon so it's not a wise thing to start doing now. Slowly, they edged out of their hiding place. They kept an eye on the air or on the trees for anything which might shoot them dead.

Nothing came. The camp loomed so close Cyrdel could almost see the ring of the camouflaged alarm system. What a tacky casing design the mechanic did on his prized prototype. Someone was going to pay for this. They reached the part where Denara had disabled the system and they simply stepped over the ring. Everything was fine as it could be.

Cyrdel blew a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Phase two, complete. Now, only getting the scepter and escaping were left. Should be easy and smooth-sailing from here, right?

Walking without any covering over their faces was bound to get them discovered but so was wearing cloaks or hoods. In the end, they opted for going bare-faced. Let them hope there was no one in this camp who would recognize them as people from the enemy's side.

They started walking. Denara and Nyxis flanked Cyrdel like guards on duty. As such, the newly-turned sprites' eyes wandered around the camp, no doubt taking in the tents, the carts of supplies, the dagrinis along with some other species which looked like dagrinis being used either in battle or for moving stuff around, and the throng of people either in full armor or just plain, everyday clothes.

Cyrdel didn't have to guess which of the people milling about had just returned from battle and which had just spent the day sipping ale or some other foul hallucinogen. The air smelled like a mixture of blood, sweat, dust, and animal dung. It's revolting but at the same time it's...normal.

He peered down at the screen, his teeth grinding against each other as he pressed his lips in a fine line. The red dot of energy at the probable center of the camp flickered faster than normal. He whispered the next set of directions to his companions and they ended up in a joint which gave way to a large tent, right where Cyrdel expected the scepter to be.

Strong hands gripped his arms and his yelp died in his throat as Denara pulled him behind a tent located at the outer ring adjacent to the large tent in the middle of the camp. A few soldiers passed them by and Nyxis and Denara gave their best nods and salutes. Cyrdel narrowed his eyes and peered at the edge of the tent.

A single, hooded person sat casually inside the larger tent whose flaps were fastened to its prods to reveal what's inside. A lone, long table spread out from her containing nothing except, well, the scepter. Cyrdel bit his lip, resisting the urge to walk over and pluck it from there. Here he was, the Alkaran throne lying beyond his fingers, just a few steps farther. He should take it. It's as simple as that.

Then, the person lowered their hood to reveal a woman with blood-red hair and brown skin with faint and almost white tattoos painting her cheeks and lining her from the neck down. Her dark cloak and dress scratched against the meager grass in the camp as she moved to speak to an approaching girl, no doubt a servant.

The woman reminded Cyrdel of the priestesses he saw once in a while working in the Temple of Recollection with her high collar, pointy shoulder pads, and a vest slicker than Cyrdel's planer covering her skin. Cyrdel swallowed the bitter taste growing at the back of his throat. Do not mess with this woman. Ever.

Something moved at his periphery and he looked down to his device to see the column of foreign energy his screen detected other than the throne move. That's...strange. He drew back up where the woman was now going back to sit on her stool after the servant girl bounded off. The other dot on his screen followed the woman's movements. Nira's breeches.

It's the woman.

"Don't engage that woman," Cyrdel's tone dropped with the warning. "She's dangerous."

Nyxis wasn't looking at him but at the large, open tent beyond them. "Yeah, I figured," he whispered back. "That trail is quite hard to miss."

Now that Nyxis mentioned it, Cyrdel peered at it himself. When he opened his eyes to the trail dimension, he almost went blind at the explosion of colors which slapped his dimensional eyeballs. Of all the things that could go wrong with their plan, it's this? Right when they're so close. Damn that.

Denara drew her sword from her side and tested her grip. "I can take her," she ignored Cyrdel's alarmed hisses to put the weapon away. "You guys do everything you can to grab that scepter and get us out of here."

Cyrdel had to drag Denara back into the cover of another tent. "What about the plan?" he gritted his teeth. "Does 'getting out quietly' ring a bell for you?"

"Hey, ease up, man," Nyxis positioned himself between Cyrdel and Denara. "We came this far as quietly as we could. There's no going back now. We must get that throne."

Nira's bottoms. The instructions were to stay discreet and never let the enemies know the battle at Penleth was just a distraction while they marshal the heirs and the throne all in one place. He trusted Xanthy enough to know she has a plan. He thought most of them did.

But now...

"Alright," he massaged the bridge of his nose. "I'll get the throne. Be careful."

Denara smiled as though she was confident she's going to survive an encounter with the woman with magical energy rivalling a throne. "Of course."

Three things happened at once. First, Nyxis and Denara leaped out of their hiding place, summoning elements out of their synnavaimis. Second, Cyrdel burst out on the opposite end, aiming for the long table. Third, possibly the most destructive of all, the woman stood up, seemingly smiled at all of them at the same time and spread her hands.

Some invisible force slammed into Cyrdel, knocking him backwards as well as the air out of his lungs. What in the world—

Something crackled, exploded, and screeched behind him. Cyrdel didn't dare look. He lunged for the scepter left unattended on the table. His fingers closed around it as a strong force of pure, unformed magic sped towards him.

He turned just in time to see the massive, shimmering wall of unmasked energy. His world whizzed by as he was yanked back against his will and thrown aside. Someone who looked a lot like Denara put her hand forward and summoned a wall of ice in front of them. Cyrdel ducked his head under his arms as ice shattered in a resounding explosion.

Denara dragged him forward as ice shards rained on them. They lost sight of the woman. Where...?

"Over here!" Nyxis called in the haze. Cyrdel dared looking around only to be greeted with fog seemingly rising from the earth. All around them, people were calling to each other, bumping into things, and doing everything they could to sow more chaos around the camp.

Almost there.

Then, he was thrown forward, his face slamming into the compact dirt before he was prepared. Someone laughed while his vision doubled, tripled, and even sparked in and out. Ugh.

"Impressive," a silky female voice bled into Cyrdel's ringing ears. It's as if someone was whispering directly into his side. "But where will you run now that you have nowhere to go?" the voice taunted. Cyrdel found himself agreeing. Yeah, they've nowhere to go.

Someone pulled Cyrdel to his feet and he swayed slightly. His eyes told him the woman with the crazy trail was now walking towards them and not bothered about the fog at all. She was also smiling. "Where will you go?" the woman said before Denara reached the spot where Cyrdel and Nyxis were.

Then, the woman lunged for them just as Nyxis brought out the sirtya. The world vanished and curled in on Cyrdel but before everything else faded, he was certain he saw the woman throw her head back and laugh.

One which would visit his nightmares in the days to come.

2412, Diori 14, Reshpe

"Well, that is fast," Ezril whistled as Denara strode into the room, covered in blood. It's not mine, Denara's thoughts speared into Nyxis's head. He relaxed on his seat. Drodham's chilly air whipped by him as he sat by a round table.

The throne room was transformed into some form of command and war room. Hosting meetings with the Necrom Orb around was dangerous, as Ezril had explained, two days ago.

The three of them popped into Drodham after barely escaping the Synketrian camp. After a few hours of making sure no one followed them, they were shuffled into the upper floors, past the towering statues of frowning banshees and into this very room.

In a course of a day and a half, Nyxis had been acquainted with Ezril, the High Priestess of the Temple of Souls and in turn its Queen of some sort, and her rekshais, or in common words, the advisers, war councillors, and ultimately, the High Priestess' faithful warriors and Drodham's last line of defense. It's...a lot to take in.

Now, they sat at a round table with chairs set for them. Nyxis had been shuffled next to an old banshee with just white eyeballs on his right and Cyrdel on his left. Denara got the spot next to Cyrdel and next to Denara sat Anahel, Eldan, and Airese. Then, to Airese's left, Ezril herself.

Reksha Perrien, the middle-aged banshee who carried a staff as tall as him around, leaned over the table and looked Denara up and down while she took her place on the table with a resounding schlop when her bloodied armor hit the cushions. "How are we holding up?" the Reksha asked with his voice calm yet stern. He turned to his peers.

"Necrom significantly diminished from last count," Reksha Ashryn, a banshee with the strict, gray ponytail, clasped her hands together atop the table. "Enemy army is significantly reduced as well due to the efforts of this...lady," the Reksha acknowledged Denara across the table with a nod before continuing, "A few days more and we will have quelled this attack."

"What about our health?" Reksha Aran, a woman with bright blue hair asked. "I'm sure the High Priestess is weary from holding up the barrier for so long."

Nyxis's gaze landed on the High Priestess. Apart from the pallor common to all banshees, Ezril, in fact, looked a bit like the spirits they have been known to summon. She had a greenish tinge to her skin and her cheeks were sunken. Ezril was in no shape to fight.

The High Priestess had her fingers together in a fist atop the table. Her expression was set with grim determination, her orange, lamp-like eyes glinting in the dim ambience. "I'm feeling fine, Aran," she said. "Thank you for the concern but we really must be moving forward with this meeting. What is still left to do?"

"High Priestess, if I may," Reksha Ryul, a young, resplendent man with silver hair raised a finger. "We can handle Drodham's rehabilitation. You should be focusing your efforts on delivering our end of the bargain to these...visitors."

"Ryul, they are my friends," Ezril corrected. Weariness wrapped around her tone. "And yes, I am willing to give it to them."

"High Priestess!" Reksha Keryth exclaimed and banged her fist against the table. The sound bounced off the walls and ended with the echoes receding by the wide arcs flagging all three walls of the room. "Surely you have thought this through? Giving up the Soul Spells to strangers when we have risked too much to protect it!"

Nyxis understood that sentiment. All the other heirs and royal families either had their thrones stolen from them or coerced in a not-so-nice, blackmailing way. Of course, none of them had been willing to give up the only thing which defined their existence.

Ezril exhaled. "I will go with them," she said after a few seconds. "That way I can personally assure you that the throne will stay safe."

Reksha Keryth's mouth flapped open and closed. She wanted to say something more but it seemed like the High Priestess had already decided. The other Rekshais glared at the silver-haired banshee.

"I know most of you will not agree to this decision," Ezril amended after a minute of silence. "But without my friends' intervention, we would be in real trouble. They helped us and rightly so. We have protected Drodham longer because of them. I intend to repay that debt."

The Rekshais were silent and all, except Reksha Janos, looked at anything besides the High Priestess. Ezril cleared her throat. "Besides, the Virtakios is calling," she smiled slightly when she no doubt thought of Xanthy. "It would be rude to refuse it. Perhaps, they also needed our help in Penleth. I hear it's becoming a bloodbath already."

At the mention of Penleth, Nyxis's stomach curled. What had happened to his friends defending a fort with a small number of men compared to the Cardovic and Synketrian army knocking at their doors? Were they still alive? What about Xanthy, gallivanting across sprite territory while trying to get the heirs to their side?

Ezril regarded Eldan and cocked her head. "You're out of Dwanzeig," she noted as if that carried a greater concern. "I wonder how the Grand Monarch took that. You broke a sacred oath."

Eldan rolled his shoulders and crossed his arms. "A matter of circumstances," he said. "Besides, I am merely stepping out as Dwanzeig's representative in the ongoing war since their Council is ah...incapacitated."

"Think Corisande got it covered?" Ezril said to which Eldan replied, "You bet. That woman was probably dancing in her suite because the men who ruined her track record are gone."

Apparently, this was an inside joke the two of them shared. Nyxis was too spaced out to even marvel at the fact that Eldan and Ezril were able to joke like that in front of the Rekshais.

"So, Ezril," Airese interjected. The brownie leaned over and tapped her finger on the table. "When are we leaving?"

Ezril cast a look at her advisors. "Can you handle everything here in my absence?" she asked. "Janos. Can I rely on you?"

Reksha Janos, the blind banshee, placed a hand over his chest and ducked his head slightly. "Certainly, High Priestess," he folded his hand atop the table. "I'll be keeping these runts in line until you return."

Ezril pushed her chair back and stood. "Very well," she smoothed her dress. "Let's go."

Nyxis blinked. "N-now?" he shook his head. "I mean, yes, now," he fumbled for the sirtya from his pocket then looked at Ezril. "Where are the Soul Spells?"

"Guess," the High Priestess spread her arms. "I never part with it after it became clear it is being targeted."

Ah. Nyxis cleared his throat and turned to his companions. "Alright," he said. "Shall we?"

They huddled closer. A few days ago, Nyxis asked Cyrdel about transporting at least six people using the sirtya. The brownie took the stone, tinkered with it during the night with sparks and another of his metal toys, and came back to Nyxis, confident. "Now it will be able to take a hundred people," Cyrdel had said.

Nyxis had asked if the brownie was serious and until now, he still hasn't gotten an answer. Well, better to trust the mechanic than his doubts. He stepped closer to the group of people slowly forming at the round table's left side.

He looked at each one as he fed his magic to the sirtya. Eldan winked at him. Airese smiled warmly, reminding him of a mother he never had. Ezril nodded with a determined expression on her face. Cyrdel had his jaw clenched and Denara simply stared at him.

Nobody knew what they would find at the other end of the journey and that brought another knot in Nyxis's gut. When they emerge from the sirtya's influence, would they find welcoming arms or would they have to fight their way out? Would they wade in their friends' cheers or in their freshly-spilled blood?

Nyxis wrapped his hand on the glowing blue stone and sighed. He forced himself to smile. "To Penleth, then."

The world vanished around them. The last to go were the Rekshais' concerned expressions and curiously, Janos's knowing smile.

Nyxis opened his eyes to the heart of the battle.