F̞̏ͅi͖̘͛͗n̰̫͍͕̗̭ͩ͑ͩd̹̪̘ͬͤ̂̑̂ ̘̜V͇̂͂ͅi̮̪g̤̙̰̟̤͎̅̃ë͇̫̘̼̺͇̖́̃̾ͯͩ̚n̫̮̦͇͖͙͈ͣͦĕ̎̎r͉̭̟͕̺̱̦ͤ̅͌̄ͧ̎̋e̟̒ͪ͗̆̓̒
̻̝͗ͭͅA̠͇̙͎ͅn̰̻͈̿ͪͣ͊͌ͣ͗d̼͕̉ ̹͉̱̫͉͔͋̇̄ͥ̐̈͒c̩̮̞͙͐́̊ͦăͬ͐͋͋l͔͍̲̪̥̉̌̒̌l̹͍͕̠͔͑ͅ ̹͒̾̎u̞̗̙̜̭͉ͤͮ̆̄p͖͈̺̫͔͇̘̃̿̂̿́͒o̳͎̬͌̅̊n͙̮̜̻̬̫̾ͫ̊ͩ̈̀ͦ ̝̯̬͙̤̳̉͊ͤͬͤ̂̚t̝̦̲̑ͫ̐̔͑̈h͉̼̘̺e̤̥̭ ͎̮̼̈̒̐͐ͫ͂ͅn͖̙̠̖̤̮ͯͫ͋̉a͎̻̯̜̠̍̅ͅm͈̣͍ͦ̈́e̟̞̫̟ͬ͑̍͐͌͋ ͂̇ͮ
̭̆ͭ̒ͪỌ̦͓͇́ͦͣ̓̈͒ͪͅf̺̝̱ͩ̄̽ͩ ͙͖̜h̤͖̭̘͈̒̋̊ë͌̽̾̓̈͑ ̤ͬ̃ẅ̫͍̬́̈̊hͪ͌͗o̖͖ͬ ̻͔̭̀̂ͮ̓̈́ͯf̟̯̽̐̓͒ͮͯͭl̀̂ͩ͑̀̀i̬͙̟̼ͦe͉ͯͤs͎̞̼̳̗͕͋ ̱̝͇̦͕̣̾ͮ͋ͦ͛̾
͈̮͔͔̩̻͔ͧT̜̠̫̮̳̤̐ͩͯ͋̇̽͛h̘ė̹͉̯ ̠̫̪̟ͅm̗͖̭͓̟̮̋̿̿͒̿a͐̽ͭͥ̎̌́ñ͋̚ ̭̮͓̲̂͌w͕̺î̙͍̔ͩ̚ṭ̜̪̔h̯͔͍̜͇͌ͮ̃͒̾ ̦͋͂̀w̎̄ͪͤh͍̖͕̥̼̏̓i̭̜͊̊̏t̼̙͚̼̄e̲̱̳̳͈͖͐ͣ͑̀ͣ ̮̭̙̫̯̼̩͐͗̚ẹ̥̙͇̮͙͖̑̿̋ͬ͂̂ŷ͔ͤͅe̯͙̻̘̭͚̫̽s͓̗͓̹̾̂ͬ̈́͑̐̊ ͉̘̮̞̲̮̺̅́ͯ̎
̫̘̹̰̪̲ͥͯͨ̎̏͊Õ͒̿ͥn̙̘̊̈͛͆̒̏̚l̤̞̾ͤ̎ͫy̭̳͔̒̊ͥ ͈̪̜͗̾͑ͣͮ͒̌thͭ̋e̞̎̎ͅn͕̗̜̲͍ ̹̹̤̥͙w͎̦̙̙̭͊̔̔́̈́̏̈́i̙̯̫̜̼ͯ̌͊̉͂l̫͈̤͔̪̫͋̄̉l̤̱̗͐ ̮̘̮̺̇ͣͣ͒̎ï̠̦̽̿̉̀̓ṫ̝̝͙̹̳͒ͫ̃ ͚͈̹c͎̈́oͪͪm͚̣̂̾ͣ͌̈́̿ͯm͎̋̓̐̿e̖̙̱͉͈̓̀̊ͅn̗̠̞̣̰̖̲̋͒̽́̄͂̃d͈̠
̯̫̟͈̞͓ͭ͂ͧ̃ͨ̏T̠̺̃͒o̥͓̿͆̍ͭͦ ̲͔̘͚ͥ̍š̫̠̲o͉̫̹ͫ͗̂l̬͇̘͇ve̹͚͖ ̞̎̉ͨ̋̀w̮̹̤̤̲̬̟h͖̻̻͖̯̀ä́ͪ͌t̤͖̙̠̝̞̎ͧ̌ ͕̣͉̺͇͈̜ͤ͛̽ͪ͗l͎̪͔̯̥̫̰ȋ̠̲̲̜͇̱̤͆̃ͨe̘̩̟̣̦͖̳͗̏̓͊̋s̆ͤ ̜̣̠̳ͤ͑ͨi̝̻̳̮̬ͥ̓̄̽ͧ̅ͦn̖̟͖͎̤ͫ͂ ̯̜͇̗̝ͧͬ͑ͩ̂̐͆t͙̺̺̱̤̳́̋̇̒̎͒h͕̤̺ͨḙ̳̗͖̺̓ͬ ̦͇̆̓ͭ̈ͪẻ̱͕ͫͮ̚n͓̥͕̅͋̈̈́̌d̙̼̠̈́͒ͩ̂
___________________________________________

"I want to go with my original plan; make the empire fall to its knees."
-Grayson, Rebellion; Chapter 39

***

Grayson's point of view-

I pushed my crown on my head until it was in a secure but comfortable position, the two red ribbons on the back tickling the nape of my neck as I pulled up my long hair, a bit past shoulder length as I had let it grow throughout the years. As I held the bundle of blonde strands in place, I took the beige hair tie out from between my teeth then tied it all up into a ponytail that bounced as I moved. I had let both my hair and my beard grow out over the years, mainly because I thought it was a waste of time to cut if it was just going to grow back again.
I looked at myself in the mirror, being sure that I was presentable for my people. With my hair groomed and pulled back, it was easier to see my slightly tanned complexion and jawline, rather defined even when covered in curly beard, if I do say so myself. Dang it, I sound similar to Drake saying things like that.
Although he has a bit of stubble, it's barely noticeable unlike my own.
My face had a few scars from battles, mainly from before Drake came back eight years ago but a few from afterwards. The most visible, permanent ones was a long one stretching from my right cheek, on top of my jaw bone, all the way up to the bottom of my eye. The others were two on my left cheek forming an 'x', or more close to a four point star. Those were caused by our battles with the empire back in the day. I also had another two scars on the right of my face, two massive claw marks running down from my cheek to my jaw, caused by Nightmares.
Bags hung underneath my eyes, and as a result of age, a few wrinkles were around my eyes and my cheeks were a bit sunk in.
Around my neck was a golden choker with a lime green gem front and center. It was somewhat of an irritation with my Adam's apple sometimes getting in the way, but I've grown used to it. Why do I even wear it anyway? Oh well. Another piece of jewelry I wore was a ring resembling a dragon wrapped around my finger, as well as a single golden ring earring on my left ear. Drake had a single piercing too that Mia, Lalea, and I sort of peer pressured him into doing when I got my own. I felt guilty but he was less annoyed when his daughter found interest in it, as well as that the earring at least had some magic buffs to it.
My coat trimmed in gold was two shades of green, primarily pine and emerald to match with my eyes. My fitted pants were pure black with armor from my knees to halfway down my legs, well, leg. My right leg was a metal prosthetic after I had lost it in a battle a few years back. At least I only have to wear one sock and shoe!
As I finished equipping my shoulder pads and wrist guards, each with the imperial crest, I tightened the straps, feeling more comfortable wearing at least some form of armor just in case I required protection, such as from an unforeseen attack or civil rebellion. I was always cautious of those.
My clothing was quite heavy but I learned to live with the weight, since I used to wear armor commonly, this was nothing in comparison to that.
My time as emperor over the past eight years have been relatively swell, considering that my first year as ruler was a roller coaster of anxiety, depression, and fear before Drake came back. After his return, my life felt lighter and had a bigger sense of purpose. There were few wars, I had my best friends who were like family. Along with that, his abilities to summon Luke's spirit allowed my old friend-enemy and myself to talk and clear much of my mind tormented by the circumstances regarding his death.
I tugged at my red cape before sighing, spinning around to head to my bedroom balcony. Being emperor had it's luxurious perks! My ruby amulet bounced against my chest in my stride. As I reach down and tugged at the handle of the door made up of glass, I welcomed the fresh morning air, even if it were chilly. After all, I have lived in climates that often went below zero, so a few degrees into the chilly temperatures was nothing to me.
I gazed at the beautiful gardens below and grand cities off in the near distance, buildings and the occasional small forests as vast as the eye could see. The vast sky was relatively clear despite a few clouds rolling in from the distance, the gorgeous rising sun allowing the sky to ignite with colors of gold, orange, and pink.
My eyes gazed down onto the cities below, my calmness once again set in. The forests, the distant mountains, the gorgeous buildings. I could not ask for a better view aside from the addition of an ocean perhaps.
Sergtara...capital of the Northern empire. While the main palace was up north, the empire was created many years ago by the merging of the western and eastern empires after civil war broke out. The empire lived under the rule of two emperors, Alduin of the west, the emperor I served under as commander of his armies, and the emperor of the east, who captured elves to show dominance.
After a civil war, Alduin took control of the new merged empires, the west and the east expanding further into the north, conquering the Northern empire, and claiming it's title as the new, larger, Northern empire. Alduin was given the eastern empire's trophies, their citizens, slaves, and elves. Now that I was emperor, all of the slaves and elves were freed long ago, making many happy but others to uproar as their own labor had to increase. The former emperor of the east vanished without a trace...
I remember that war, when we had finally defeated the east and merged our lands, we were attacked by another force that came from the North. The army was small, but filled with powerful magi with magic that not even those in the magic guild had ever seen. They had something that both Alduin and the eastern empire both desired; the last dragon egg known to mankind. I participated in the war within the end of a war, the army that I commanded proving to be stronger. We stole the dragon egg... and I took it for myself, knowing the bloodbath destined to be spilled if Alduin learned to control such a creature.
I stole the dragon egg and became a fugitive, family executed, lost everything, including the will to live. I am grateful that my friend found me before I ended it all, otherwise we would not have the lives we live now. Prosperous, happy, living in peace. I could not ask for a better life...well, there are one or two things I do wish for...
A heavy breath slipped out from my nostrils, taking in the relaxation for as long as I could before the day would require me to handle my duties. Being emperor does have its downsides, that being the inability to rest at most times of the day. Though there are those moments of peace that I relish.

"Mornin', buddy!" My ears perked to a familiar voice swimming into my ears. I am torn away from relaxation, my heartbeat picking up as I turn around to face the source of the familiar voice.

"Luke!"

My old friend stands there, lavender hair freely hanging down and flowing in the faint breeze that swept in from the open balcony doors. He stared at me with his heterochromatic eyes, one venetus and the other an abnormal tangerine orange, like the ocean at night meeting a flickering blaze, only the bridge of his nose separating the two opposing elements. They both gleamed as he gave me a warm smile, hands behind his back, back straight, and chin up. He looked the same way he always did, black clothing and armor as his eternal attire.
Even with the abnormalities of his mismatched eyes, one of which was an odd orange, and lavender hair, what stood out about his form the most was that it was translucent, giving off a faint glow. As he giggled, I could hear the faint echo of phantom chime, the usual sounds that light spirits emitted.

I smiled back and chuckled, turning away to look back down at the cities below. "If you're here then Drake must be here!"

I turned my head to watch him rolling his eyes. "Thanks for the acknowledgement."

"Hey, I'm just teasing! Of course I'm excited that you're here too." I assured him.

He smiled again, no mask to hide his soft grin unlike most of the time when he was alive. I laughed as I walked over to him, my prosthetic clinging against the floor with each step, my armor clicking as metal rubbed and gently clashed on metal. I tried to playfully punch him in the arm, but I suppose that he saw it coming so made my knuckles phase right through him. I pouted, but it was nice to hear him chuckle.
His gaze averted from me over to his knitted hat, which was fastened on a mannequin head, encased in a glass box. It stared at the two of us with perfect black circular eyes made of yarn, it's face resembling that of a penguin. It belonged to Luke back in the day, gifted to me moments before his death. For a split moment, grimness expressed itself in his smile, quick to fade from his pale lips.
I knew that he missed being alive, but I also knew that he did not regret dying for my sake. His drifted from me, expression once again shifted, twisted with worry or perhaps discomfort.

"Luke...you alright?"

He laughed. "You know how we're connected to Drake, and that his emotions affect us. I don't think that he's doing too good this morning."

I sucked in a deep breath and huffed. Da*m it... He was doing well with controlling his emotions and staying upbeat, at least I assumed. Nowadays, it was difficult to read Drake, to know what he was feeling and to catch his lies... and I know that he lies a lot to my annoyance. A lot of times he and I talked when he did not want to bother Lalea, feeling like a burden to her. I know otherwise but I keep my mouth shut about our conversations. He talked to Armen too, but Armen's spirit could only linger in the mortal realm for so long.

"I'll talk to him and see what's wrong. Don't worry... I just wish that things could go back to the way they were."

Luke lowered a brow. "What do you mean?"

Once again I let out a sigh, remembering the old days with Drake and I faced the world together, when I could help him with nearly every small issue we face, even with big issues like facing off with Herobrine. Those days were much more simple compared to now. He was in better mental health and I did not have to worry about multiple countries depending on me, forcing me to choose between them and my personal life. Honestly, there are times I somewhat miss being a fugitive, just because of that taste of freedom that I missed.
Drake, well, he is not anywhere near the same as he used to be, at least not when he's in a bad mood. Anxiety, depression, apathy, emotionally, or physically lashing out, or his magic lashing out. Even I've been swung at during one of his violent outbursts when he was consumed by rage or fear, often caused by violent flashbacks from when he was Herobrine's vessel or when he was slowly becoming his vessel. Sometimes he did not feel that he was in control of himself, normal for people with post traumatic stress disorder.
He still hated himself...he still...No! I won't think about that! Ever since we've gotten him back, I've tried like h**l to always be there for him, and I promised to never let him down again! After all of these years, I continued to look up to him as a hero, always remembering that he is the reason I am still alive today.

"Nothing. I just miss the days before he... I want to help him. I mean...don't you think he should have moved on by now? It's like his mind is clinging to the pain...I just want to help him let go of what's hurting him."

There was a moment of silence between us. Drake, before becoming what he is today, was never the clingy type in terms of memories. He always tried to move on, just as he did after Armen jumped into the lava at Iron mere; he tried to forget the circumstances regarding his death. I wondered what prevented him from searching for a new light nowadays, to let the past stay in the past. Then again, who am I to judge on a subject like that? I have done the same, fell into depression and vengeance that I would not let go of, pushing me to edge of near suicide. I can not expect someone with that much trauma experienced to move on, not ever. I hate feeling helpless in these sorts of situations.

"Right. I'm proud of you for that... putting your friends first." He chuckled, but his smile once again lowered, eyes moving down. "What about the war? You can't keep him from being sent out forever. He is the head commander after all."

I growled, clawing at my sides. "... I know. I'm just...worried."

For a few passing moments, we stood in awkward silence.

"Anyway, you should get going now! Drake and all of the people with complaints are expecting you!"

I gave a weak chuckle and agreed. Luke told me to take it easy and that we would talk again later, proceeding in closing his eyes, his body glowing brighter in a bust of orange, blue, and lavender illumination. In an instant, an orb of those mixing colors took his place where he previously stood, giving off a quick jingle. Luke, now in the natural form of a light spirit, flew around me in circles while he continued to jingle, his sounds expressing his joy.
I laughed before he stopped moving around, hovering in front of me. I watched as he slowly faded, his presence soon enough gone. Slowly my smile lowered a bit as my mind crawled back into the awareness of reality, once again attempting to maintain focus on my imperial duties. I did miss the days of only needing to focus on a journey, rather to the magic library or the hatchery, but I know that things are different now. We've settled down, we've moved on from the hardships...well, most of us have.
Once I gained a firm grip on my focus, I marched out of my room, greeting my personal guards as I made my way down the halls. I hoped that no one had noticed my growling stomach...
...

Drake's point of view-

The light settled around me, my head lifting to allow my eyes to adjust to my new surroundings. I remember when teleporting such distances left me nauseous, but now teleportation was as simple as breathing for a mortal, or at least anyone beside myself who actually needed air. Nevertheless, it was an experience that I found a rush in, to an extent. It has grown old, but then again, everything has.
My eyes settled upon the two massive, gold painted front doors to the palace, the low light of the newly risen sun giving the steps and palace itself a golden texture from the light. Two guards stood by the massive front doors, each in heavy armor and blades by their sides in order to defend the crown. Immediately upon seeing me, they parted way so I could enter, the one to my left opening one of the doors for me to enter.
Of course they knew who I was immediately, being the armies lead commander, easily distinguishable from others thanks to both my clothing and bizarre physical appearance, being half Enderman and having glowing eyes.
Before stepping inside, I looked up to watch a pair of dark feathered birds fly through the air. It left me somewhat relaxed while another part of me was shaken. Perhaps...I envied their freedom. They were free, whereas I was trapped by the mirage cast by my own mind; the constant struggle to tell real from fake, from this pestering constant familiarity.
As I passed by the two guards, they bowed, causing a light snarl to vibrate in my esophagus. I hated the praise. I don't deserve it, not in the slightest.
Once I stepped inside, I did not admire the decor despite it's beauty, having seen this place many times before. The room was massive, wide and even more so long, the walls and floor and even the ceiling being made of marble and stone with everything splashed in glittering gold. The pillars that held up the ceiling high above were covered in extravagant details like drawings of vines with leaves sprouting in a bronze hue. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling glimmered from the morning rays of sunlight and the floor covered in pyrite and amber colored tiles were freshly polished, shining in the light that was occasionally red and blue from the stained glass windows.
On the far side of the room, opposite to where I stood, was emperor Grayson's throne. It was not the same throne as the emperor before the last owned, whose name I later learned to be Alduin. This throne was made anew due to the fact that I obliterated the previous one with magic in attempt to murder the tyrant, only for him to get out of the way of the blast in a nick of time.
This place used to trigger bad memories, occasionally it still does. I remember the scouring I received on this very floor, hallucinating my blood staining the tile and carpet or hear the ghostly howl of a cracking whip. Sometimes my back has sensational feeling of pain and stinging and tingles like blood running down my back from ripped open flesh, but that pain was all in my mind, since I am incapable of feeling physical pain within reality.
The eyes of servants rested upon me, all in awe. They were some of the few that viewed my as higher power, and not the mortal kind such as a king. They thought of me as a God, a messiah. Messiah of what is all blur to me that will never become clear. I never understood why a person would view me in such an obscure way...especially after everything I had done all those years ago. Then again, I'm the only one who knows the truth of what went on that year that I was possessed, a year that felt like thousands. I am the only one who knows of the blood staining my hands.
I bit my lip, wishing to feel pain to draw my thoughts away from the memories but I only felt the pressure pushing down against my flesh. Fortunately I was able to force my anxieties into the back of my mind for the time being and reground myself within the present.
I needed to see Grayson before doing anything else, not just because he's my best friend and it felt right to do so, but I always felt that reporting in was the best thing to do instead of just wandering around the palace with the emperor having no idea that you're there.
With it being morning but now quiet late into it, I had originally expected him to be at his throne, but the place on which royalty sat was barren of life. No one sat on the throne with gold and red cushions, not even a single guard stood on nor around the steps leading up to the throne. This lead me to assume that my friend had slept in or was in the dining hall.
I paced for a few minutes as I waited for my friend to arrive, growing irrationally anxious. Where is he? How much longer must I wait? Am I just wasting time standing here? Come on, Drake, relax!
After a few minutes, I sent up Luke to wake him, then waited another few minutes wallowing in irritating anxiety.
My back straightened, ears perking once I felt a familiar rush coarse through my body, the hair in my skin standing on end. The feeling of Grayson's life force, approaching ever so slowly. As it grew stronger, my head turned to one of the west corridors, quick to spot a familiar blur of green, red, and blonde. I smiled.

"Drake! Good morning!"

I laughed, waiting until he was a few feet away from me to reply. "Good morning, Grayson. Up late again I see."

He laughed along, the gold on his attire reflecting the morning sunlight light from the many windows around us. "Hey, you're late too!"

I could not help but to laugh, but it clouded over a sudden arisen guilt. He was not wrong, I was a tad late despite teleporting here, most likely from eating this morning and stopping the potential riot for beginning. I grew uncomfortable with the memories rather fast.

"Touche...Ready to get the day started?

His slightly tanned cheeks grew a faint pink, his hand going over his stomach. "Almost. I haven't eaten yet." I chuckled.

Typical Grayson, always thinking of his stomach. Then again, I guess it's natural. I had forgotten what it was like to need to eat. I was sure that they had to have breakfast laid out for him by now.

"Well, let's head to the grand hall then. I know how hungry you get." His face flushed for a moment before I walked past him, the two of us heading to the grand hall.

I turned to him and decided to ask, "How about the troops sent west? Have you gotten word from them?"

He shook his head. "No, not yet, but don't worry! I won't send you out there just yet. We have to wait until we get word back on the severity of the situation. After all, the empire has yet to be attacked, we are only checking the areas of the attacks to see if they do intend to set foot in our land."

I nodded in understanding. When will I have to go to the war? Yet something about his voice and the twist in his expression caused my back to shiver.
As we walked, he told me that Luke went and got him, once again his expression twisting, this time at the mention of him, well, not Luke in particular but perhaps something they discussed. I asked him but he blew it off, myself knowing that he was hiding something. After all, Grayson was never the best at keeping secrets, rather he verbally tells or it is simply seen in his expression.
...

Grayson's point of view-

We walked into the grand hall, or dining hall as others called it. The windows had crimson curtains, and the long mahogany table was polished with many chairs pushed underneath it, covered in a long red and royal blue cloth trimmed with gold. Pillars held up the ceiling and unlike the throne room, the walls were a dull grey with torches, and a chandelier hanging overhead the center of the table. The light gorgeously radiated across the room, but what I loved the most, was the wide array of food covering the table like buffet. Bacon, toast and butter, fruit, pastries... Cookies!
The beautiful sight caused my stomach to bark and ache more profoundly. My mouth salivated, begging to taste everything laid out before me.
Both excited about eating and anxious about tending to my kingly duties sure to pester me in due time, I rushed over to the opposite end of the table and sat down. My hand reached out and grabbed a napkin, stuffing it in collar of my shirt to keep my clothing from being tarnished in grum. For me, doing so was once an irritation, my servants pestering me to be more "proper". Eventually I allowed myself to sink into the habit, but even then there were few occasions when I would indulge myself without proper manners, such as eating fast or using my hand instead of proper utensils.
This was one of those times...
I ate like a glutton, eating fast but severing the individual varieties of flavors. Sweet, sour, bitter, tangy, among other tastes. It was all so much better than what I used to eat in the badlands, even the mutton! Of course the cookies were superbe, delicious chocolate, cinnamon, oat, heck, I even loved the raisin cookies!
My ears perked and heart skipped a single beat when I heard Drake laugh. My back straightened and I rubbed my mouth again with the napkin in my collar, a weak smile coming upon his face when he saw me. I smiled back, examining as his glowing eyes darted around as if waiting for something to jump out at him. They had bags beneath them, as to be expected without sleep, even for someone with no need of it.
Ever since the events that happened eight years ago with Herobrine, how can I blame him for being constantly on edge?
I smiled wider and invited him to sit down. As he moved, I caught short glimpses of the bandages wrapped around his body underneath his clothes. He has become very self conscious with all of his scars from past wounds...
The metal on his clothes clashed with faint sounds as he moved rather swiftly, enderman being rather fast, and in turn, as was he, most likely with the assistance of anxiety as well. What is making him that way?
He smiled back for a brief moment before his lips fell down into a straight line, but he did pull out a chair and sit across from me. I continued to eat, this time slower and with more manners now that I remembered that others were around. As Drake sat quietly, looking around anxiously, I broke the silence.

"How has your morning been so far?" He failed to respond, sparking my concern.

He stat there motionless, staring down at his black boots with a blank gaze. I could tell that something was off with him, watching him as I placed a pastry into my mouth. As I ate rather quickly, I swallowed too fast and nearly choked as I tried to blurt something out. Luckily a mug of orange juice was next to me, allowing me to take a big gulp and force it completely down my throat. He jumped, ready to hop out of his seat, but froze once I handled the situation. After catching my breath, I spoke up.

"I'm good. I'm good... Anyway, your answer?"

There was a split moment of hesitation. "Well...I ate breakfast with Lalea and Landen this morning." He admitted. I nearly choked once more.

"Did you-?"

He cut me off. "Yes, I did vomit... Afterwards a crowd gathered and I had to stop a potential riot." He gave a forced heavy sigh of obvious frustration. "I hate how people call me a god! I just...have glowing eyes, that's all!"

It was usual for him to react like that on the subject, to get heated. Being called a demigod was only a joke we started when he was freed from Herobrine's possession, but I suppose that somewhere along the line, it went too far and now he was known worldwide as either a god or the devil himself.
Usually when he was frustrated, it was best to watch him in case his power unintentionally lashed out; an issue he had yet to fully control even after all of these years.
As for the vomiting, it happened every time he forced himself to eat. I've caught him teleport into the woods once during the time of a war when we were camping out, throwing up because he had forced himself to eat to make us all, including himself, feel more comfortable. He admitted that he always did that whenever he ate and had never told anyone.
I am sick of him hiding things from Lalea, and quite possibly hiding things from myself, but the last time I brought up the issue, he snapped so I've kept my mouth shut about it for years.

"Well, you do have His abilities."

I witnessed his expression shift, growing more bothered. His leg began shaking beneath the table, in turn rattling his entire body.

"I'm not like...I'm not like Him... R-Right?"

A soft growl vibrated in the back of my throat, my fist nearly slamming on the table. "Drake, of course not! You are nothing like Him! How many times do I have to tell you?!"

He flinched, visible eye growing. Sh*t. Did I raise my voice? I know better than to do that around him, he can't stand the thought that I might be mad, it triggers the bad thoughts in his mind and as he once told me, the memories Herobrine planted into his head where we all abandoned him and mistreated him. Of course we both knew that none of it was true, but that did not mean that it had not left a scar or two on his mind.

I sighed. "Drake, it's always going to be the same answer. You are not like Herobrine, and you never will be. You are so much better than Him... What's gotten into you?"

His gaze narrowed, hardening upon me. "I am starting to worry about you" I continued "Are you...uncomfortable with being here? In the empire I mean?"

He put his elbow on the table and placed his chin against his open palm, his gaze softening slightly to once again become emotionless. After a moment of motionless silence, he closed his eyes and turned his head to gaze out of the window. Once his glowing eyes opened up again, words escaped from behind his moving lips.

"What kind of question is that? I mean, It's not the empire, Grayson. Not the people in it, nor what goes on... Just myself, I guess."

I leaned in and waited for him to continue. What did he mean by that? I could see his fist and teeth clench in frustration.

"They've been getting worse, Grayson. My hallucinations, the nightmares, these...feelings. I'm anxious. A lot of my thoughts don't even sound like me, but I know that they are! I know that it's just because I'm constantly having this deja vu, but... I don't understand why I feel like this, and the nightmares...I don't understand!"

I finished off a bite and sighed before forcing up a chuckle in attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "Well, you always feel as if something is wrong. You have since I met you!"

I gave a half hearted laugh before my eyes once again focused on Drake's unwavering, emotionless expression. His glowing eyes just stared at me with flat eyebrows, obviously unamused. I suppose that was irresponsible of me to say. Stupid Grayson! I huffed and straightened my back as I wiped away my grin, letting the seriousness of the situation settle.

I continued. "But, I understand. It must be odd not knowing what's going on since you usually figure one way or another," I referred to his strange habit of knowing what was going to happen. It was a creepy trait of his. ",so I'll be here for you. I'll make sure that everything is okay."

His arm fell back onto the table, almost slamming against it, yet he spoke like he was calm. "Something about those nightmares always leave me on edge. I'm..." Please don't apologize. You don't need to. It's okay!

He shook his head slowly, looking down and clawing at the table before an unsettling chuckle slipped up his throat, rising into a laugh that chilled my blood and brought a chill down my spine. I hated it when he did that.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry for always bothering you. I'll get out of your hair."

He stood up fast, the legs of the chair scraping the tile beneath as he pushed the chair back. As he quickly spun around and pushed the chair back underneath the table, I couldn't help but to stand up and call out to him, telling him to stop and that it was okay. Before I could do much else, my limbs grew heavy and I was unable to move. All I could see was Drake lift up his arm with his hand lit in a white aura, the same white aura that suddenly engulfed me.
He gazed at me from over his shoulders, closing his eyes and forcing on a smile.

"Just sit down and eat! It's okay. If you need me, I'll either be in the courtyard or in the library. Perhaps at the guild. See you later bud." He actually sounded happy, his shoulders bouncing with his voice hiding a laugh. Talk about mood swings.

He marched out of the room, closing the door behind himself. Immediately after the door was shut, the spell cast on me vanished, allowing me to fall back and slump down in my chair. I closed my eyes and sighed, letting my head fall back as I tried to keep myself from getting frustrated.

"God d**it Drake..."
...

Lalea's point of view-

The school house was rather large, only one story but it appeared to be two stories just by viewing the outer walls. The building resembled that of a small cathedral, a pointed rooftop with arching overhangs over the windows and doors with rather elaborate designs. Beside the schoolhouse was a yard were the children usually played, a fountain in the center that depicted a lifelike statue of the goddess of magic.
I could already hear the children running around, laughing as they enjoyed their time before Endy announced for the day to officially begin, which she usually waited to do until Landen and I arrive, sometimes bringing Drake with us depending on if he needed to go to the palace or was out during war.
I lead Landen by the hand, her eyes glancing up at me with a nervous glimmer. I smiled a return in hopes that it would assure her that everything was going to be okay. To my dismay, my daughter was either praised by the other students who smothered her or children avoided her completely due to her being a hybrid and the daughter of a virtual demigod, or the devil as others claimed. Parents had convinced their children to stay away from her, being the "devil's child". Perhaps she was also avoided because, while still in the early stages of becoming a magi, Landen's magical power excelled above that of her peers.
We casually walked inside of the building, empty since the children and the school's teacher were outside. From the windows I could see children running around or sitting in the grass, most practicing magic in some form. Endy was standing there close to the door, keeping a watchful eye on her students as any good teacher of young children would.
As I opened the back door, the sound of laughter and talking immediately blasted, but it was not too obnoxious. Landen stayed by my side, eyes scanning for anyone that she got relatively along with or a place away from from students that she wanted to avoid. I know my daughter. I know her way of thinking.
She looked over the adult, immediately recognizing her.

"Aunt Endy!" Landen cheered as she ran up to her, hugging Endy's legs tightly. She smiled, a loving gleam in her violet eyes, one glazed over.

Landen was not her true niece, but we were all like family to each other. I was glad that Endy allowed her to call her a name with such family related affiliation. I smiled and giggled to see the pink in my friend's ghostly pale cheeks.

She pulled away as Endy bent down, gently rubbing her head. "Good morning, sweetie! Ready for school today?"

Landen nodded vigorously, causing us both to giggle. Landen, turned to look at the playground once more, but I saw her smile drop, having no one who particularly got along with her or she got along with. I sighed, wishing she had someone her own age to bond with. Her only real friends were much older, them being Endy's stepdaughter Jane and her apparent boyfriend, Kaleb.

"Don't worry, sweetie." She looked to me with her bright mismatched eyes. "Go play. Mommy will be watching out for you, okay?"

It warmed my heart to see her bright smile lift. She simply turned, then skipped off in the direction of the fountain. I laughed to release the happiness balled inside of me, approaching my old friend with arms now crossed over her chest.
She tightened the lilac scarf around her neck then hugged her own body for warmth in the cold of the morning. She had on a deep violet button up shirt with grey cuffs that stretched out to act as gloves on her slim hands, and a long skirt stopping at her ankles, the skirt being the same color as her shirt. Despite the weather, we both wore white leggings with dress shoes as well. Around her waist was a fanny pack, usually to hold potion vials in case any children got injured or sick.

"Morning, Endy! How are you?"

"I'm fine, Lalea. It's starting to get cold, but that's all the downside."

I giggled. "How about Xavier and Jane? Are they our training?"

Endy and Xavier were married a few months after Drake and I, but since the two were worried that Jane would be jealous and they were paranoid that something would happen, the two never had any children of their own. Although, I know that deep down she did want to have at least one child of her own. Perhaps they never tried or never seceded in getting pregnant. Her pink cheeks grew a deeper shade.
Jane has turned fifteen over the summer, meaning that she was able to begin training for whatever profession she chose, that being spying just like her father's occupation. Although it must have been difficult with Endy being worried that she would get hurt and Xavier being slightly over protective. Sure, he was reckless but after what happened to his previous wife, he does tend to overthink when it comes to the safety of loved ones. I don't blame him.

She answered, "Yeah. Xavier is a bit tough on her though when they train, not being mean of course, but...sometimes I feel like his lessons are a bit rigorous. I mean, he's the head spy! How does he expect her to compete with his rank at this stage of her training?"

I honestly was not too surprised to hear of that. Xavier did get a kick out of a challenge, and surly training a teenager would have it's challenging moments. Not only that, but I could not help but to speculate that he wanted to keep her away from Kaleb, not trusting her boyfriend like most fathers with their daughters. I hoped that Endy had not noticed my small snicker.

The raven haired continued. "I think he's starting to go a bit easier on her though, at least I hope."

I looked back out at the children, spotting Landen sitting in front of the fountain, concentrating on the water as she moved her arm back and forth. With the winter weather, I was hoping that the fluid was not too cold that it would freeze her hand until it hurt, though she seemed to be okay to my relief.

"Do you ever plan on having a child of your own?" I even embarrassed myself with the question. Surely a school of elementary students was not a proper setting to ask, but the words had already left my mouth.

"Last time I asked was after you got married. Have you changed your mind?"

I saw her grow flustered, blood rising in her porcelain cheeks until they were a deep pink. She opened her mouth to answer, at first finding difficulties in gathering her words and getting them to leave for behind her lips.

"I..." Her face crossed into the line of becoming red. "Xav' and I tried a few years ago but it didn't work... but I suppose that it's for the best. I don't want Jane to be jealous of a new child in the house."

She did have a point, but I could see the reflection of disappointment in her eyes, of a lost hope. I assured her that perhaps one day they would get lucky and at least they had Jane around. She seemed to brighten up then.
My attention averted back to Landen, gasping. Landen pulled her arm out of the rippling liquid, a long strand of water lifting up like a cobra, bellowed in a deep blue and purple light.
I watched in proudness as my daughter moved the water slowly, waving her arm from side to side as if concentrated but her mismatched eyes large and bright. Her smile overtook her cheeks as she turned to look our direction.

"Mom! Look!"

I walked slowly up behind her, my hands raising up over my chest. My smile grew so wide that it nearly hurt, a finger pushed some of the lapis hair out of the way from my field of vision, crouching down beside my child.

"Sweetie, this is wonderful! You've gotten so good at it!"

The little girl giggled before the water rippled, the aura of blue and purple suddenly dispersing. The water collapsed back into the fountain, slashing the two of us with droplets of cool water. We turned away to avoid getting any water in our eyes, looking back to each other as Landen squealed in joy over her accomplishment.
I opened up my eyes again and turned to her with a giggle of joy that I could not contain, reaching down and gently taking my daughter's hands. A blue aura engulfed my hands, wrapping around Landen's as well.

"Here. It takes a lot of practice and lots of focus, but one day," Landen gasped as the water once again rose, taking the form of a unicorn that I was sure would mesmerize her. "You'll master it."

Landen laughed before I slowly released her hands, trusting her to take control. Landen tried to focus, and as the blue aura faded, it was replaced with a deep blue and faint purple glow. The girl gasped with wide eyes, amazed that she was now doing this on her own. I knew she could! She always had the strongest magic of everyone in the class! The unicorn distorted and rippled, remaining for a few seconds before the aura faded and the water fell back to join the rest filling the stone fountain.

"I did it!" She laughed, excited with her capabilities. I joined in her laughter, then smiled with a soft gaze, as proud as could be.

I hugged her tight, her slim arms wrapping around me in return as she released her bright laughter. As I released her, Endy called out for the students to head back inside, myself taking Landen by the hand and leading her into the building.
I was so proud, even though I have seen her use fire and energy magic, Drake's preferred magic spells. I myself had always loved water magic, so of course I would be excited to see my own child use it! Perhaps I was too overjoyed for such a simple accomplishment, but when it comes to my daughter, I will always be joyous. I will always be proud.
...

Third person point of view-

Their swords clashed, the echo of iron striking iron rattling across the vast courtyard of the palace. He gasped and huffed, his limbs shaking and sweat trailing down his pale skin where goosebumps rose. Meron forced up his sword before himself, pushing his mind to stay concentrated. He took in deep breaths that he released through his burning nostrils, his limbs and chest aching. His light green eyes had a burning gaze as he prepared for the next attack.
The man standing before him, his large red hat trimmed with golden lacing and an crimson feather sticking up from the golden band, stared at the young boy with a grin on his face and ominous blackness covering his eyes. Meron kept his eyes locked onto the man, sweat dripping from his eyelashes and obscuring his vision.
Finally they closed the short gap between one another, holding up their blades to block the others attack. Before Meron could register rather the blow had finally come down onto him or not, the area in front of his vision had become empty. All of the sudden, he could see his opponent down on the ground, barely able to see him swiftly move his leg beneath his own, his foot locking onto the back of Meron's ankle. The next thing the boy knew, he was falling backwards before his body painfully collided with the ground.
He groaned as he opened his eyes, looking down at the shining, pinpoint blade nearly pressing against his neck. He looked up at his superior as the man lifted up his head in triumph, one black gloved hand against his side as he stood firmly with a smug grin.

"Always stay alert and think of every opportunity your opponent may have. It takes a lot of thought and concentration, but I know you'll get it!" The man in the red general's coat sheathed his sword and held out his four fingered hand to help the boy up.

Despite Meron's clothes being dirtied from training, his trainers clothes were clean from his red and gold coat to his black pants with crimson running down the sides, with golden knee pads. Even his black boots were relatively clean while the trainee's were covering in dirt and mud.
Meron huffed and took it, allowing the general to pull him up to his feet. He dusted off his trench coat and ran his hand through his golden locks, his hair brushed over his right eye to cover the black eyepatch he hid beneath. His teeth clenched and gritted as he rubbed his sore shoulder.

His voice was bubbly despite being in pain. "You're really fast!"

The general simply laughed, his pale cheeks gaining a coloration of a light pink. "Yeah, well, I wasn't always quick enough. Took a lot of life or death situations to get where I am now."

He removed his wide brimmed had to let his bright auburn hair flow, the sunlight bringing out gorgeous, natural blonde highlights. His warm smile and bright hazel eyes full of proudness caused the trainee to smile in joy, almost enough to make him want to train with him again right then and there, but his limbs were aching too much. He knew that he should take a break for at least a minute or two.
Both men looked up as they heard distant shouting, growing louder as a crowd of men repeated those same, muffled shouts that the two were too far from in order to hear clearly. Their eyes met with a group of imperial soldiers in the distance, all armored with weapons and covered in body armor, some heavy, others in a light set. Each had the imperial colors and crest embedded somewhere of their attire, ruby red and royal blue with the image of a sword with two crescent moons.
Even though he was just a blur of black, gold, and purple, it was not a difficult task to recognize the man pacing before the troops and knights separated into their own sections. Being the armies lead commander, he controlled a majority of the soldiers along with a few generals such as Nathan. Though he was also a noble and close to becoming a duke, whose duty it was to train knights. Both jobs together was rigorous, but Drake always found a way to manage.

"He doesn't seem bad."

Nathan's attention averted back to his pupil, an auburn brow lowering. "Pardon me?"

Meron's cheeks flushed, scratching the back of his head as he looked away. "N-nothing! It's just...a friend of mine doesn't like the commander. Honestly I do understand why she feels that way, but...I like Drake. I mean, I haven't spoken with him much but..." The blonde trailed off.

"Yeah. There are a lot of people who don't like Drake, once upon a time, neither did I, but I grew to love him like the brother I wish I had. I learned his morals, his story. You can't judge a book by its cover."

Merton looked to the ground as he thought. General Nathan and commander Drake always got along like siblings, a healthy sibling relationship at that. He could not help but to ask how they had met and why they thought so highly of one another. Nathan scratched the back of his neck, remembering the days when he loathed Drake; when he wished him dead. He could not explain much before being cut off.

"Hey guys!" A deep voice called over the attention of both men.

They both looked over their shoulders to let their eyes rest upon the imperial commander as he approached with his hands in his pockets. The general smiled brightly, small dimples forming on the corners of his pink lips.

"Drake! Good morning!"

The hybrid gave a weak smile, as he usually did. "Good morning Nathan, Meron. How's training going?"

The blonde continued to rub his sore arm, but a chuckle managed to slip from his dry mouth. "It's fun...but it hurts."

Both Drake and Nathan gave weak laughs, but the younger man's laughter was greater than the hybrid's. Nathan and Drake both looked to each other and smiled, always happy to be in the others presence. They looked to each other as brothers, as Nathan reminded Drake of his brother Armen, who was long since deceased, and Drake was the brother figure Nathan always wished he had.
Of course Nathan was no replacement for Drake's fallen brother, but he cared for the boy all the same, as he did with all of his friends.

"So what were you telling your men? Are we finally being deployed to the western war?" Nathan's fist tightened around the sheathed blade on his side. His voice was still light, but over the years it had deepened slightly, sounding more masculine than it once had.

The hybrid shook his head. "No, not to my knowledge, just making sure that everything is in order. We're trying to get our men out of the disorganized state that they are in. It's been so long since they've engaged in warfare, I'm beginning to question their ability to defend the kingdom."

Even Nathan and Meron felt odd about the commander's claim. It was understandable but filled with such mistrust. Although Nathan had noticed it as well, the disarray of his fellow comrades, the chaos in training that often ended on a negative note when Drake was off duty. Some men refused to train at all or obey orders from Tylar whenever he stood to control the army in Drake's absence. Sometimes both Drake and Nathan questioned some soldiers motives or way of thinking. Did they only obey Drake and follow orders because they feared him or because they wanted to defend their kingdom? Perhaps they believed that having a demigod and a dragon on their side of the war line instantly meant victory. Well, they were wrong.
Not even infamous Herobrine himself was able to take down the five kingdoms without an army by his side.

"Don't worry, sir." Meron spoke politely. "I'm sure they won't fail once the time comes."

Drake looked away. He wished that he could be certain about that. Drake nodded as he looked around the courtyard, scratching his chin not because it itched, but because of a minor habit he adopted; a nervous tick that sometimes took the place of his twitching but not always. He laughed, but it was not loud.

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, Meron." He assured. "I just...wish I had that same hope."

After an awkward silence that last for only a few seconds with clashing blades and grunts from training soldiers in the distance, Drake broke the silence. "Anyway, you two should commence with what you were doing! Oh, and Meron, in about three hours or so I need you to come find me so we can head to the guild."

The blonde nodded. "Sure thing."

They nodded to him, turning back to each other and taking their stances. Drake listened as their blades resumed to clash and grunts rose from their beings. The sound of clashing metal caused his ear to twitch. He simply walked over to a pillar and turned around, letting his back rest against it to let his eyes scan the courtyard and his training men.
For a moment the sounds seemed to echo, screams that were not really crying out from the back of his mind as the sound from smashing metal got louder. As he watched the fighting, his vision blurred and a sense of panic set in.
A heavy pressure rose in his chest. He could hear a heartbeat pounding in his eardrums, yet his cold blood remained still within his veins and his heart remained frozen within his broad chest. It had not beat since the events at The temple of Armageddon, yet sometimes it was almost as if he could still hear that melody of a drum racing inside of him.
He started to remember battles and wars that were rather unpleasant, almost enough to make him gag as he recalled others being slashed at and disemboweled while he was possessed by a godly warlord. He would have gagged at the memories if he had not seen them before his waking mind as often as he did, if he had not been slowly consumed by the numbness.
For a moment, he allowed his limbs to fall limp, thankfully leaning back on the pillar, otherwise he would have fallen down. It was almost like he could feel the shadows wrapped around him and the heat of that room as he gazed off to witness the bloodshed his body was forced to bring. For that moment, he felt nothing, yet tears slowly welled up in his eyes.
What was he doing still standing there, frozen for a brief moment in time?
A sudden spike of panic and urgency rushed through his blood and struck his brain. He jumped and instinctively rose his arm up into the air, skin sweating and barely visible pupils constricting with his teeth clutching.
He finally looked up when Tylar stood in front of him, the man's skin a ghostly white, his hair like silver, and eyes like the red of a pair of gleaming rubies in the sunlight. Of course he had a few scars on his face, rare to find any soldier who had been out on the field as much as him without any visible battle scars.
He had on a white button up shirt with black pants and brown nearly knee length boots over them. Over that attire was a long dark grey coat with red on the inside, almost reaching to his ankles. He had straps across his chest, one reaching up to his single iron shoulder pad, going and attaching to a silver medallion with the imperial crest on the right of his chest. From that breached another strap that went around his other shoulder then another that went down a few inches beneath his armpit. On top of his head was black hat with a golden strap that two red feathers stuck out from.

Tylar held his hands in front of himself, ceasing to call out the hybrid's name. "Drake, relax! It's just me!"

Drake lowered his stance and his limbs loosened, showing that his body was once again beginning to relax but it was still tense. He leaned against the pillar once more, the hair over his face covering most of his vision of his friends, his head remaining still as he stared at the ground.

"Oh. Tylar, it's just you, of course." He giggled nervously with embarrassment from jumping. "What are you doing talking to me?"

Tylar fixed the collar of his coat. "First of all, when you put it like that it sounds rude. Secondly, I thought it would be nice to train with you! Commander vs commander! Besides, you wanted us to push our limits in battle, didn't you?" He draw his blade, lifting it before his chest as he took a stance, not even waiting for the Mage to give a proper answer.

Drake thought about it and shrugged. "Sure, why not? Only for a minute or two. I have things I need to do." It wasn't that. He knew that if he fought for too long, he would lose grip of reality, resulting in him harming his friend.

Drake pulled out his sword with a hiss against its sheath, the blade dull from a long period of use but still sharp enough to inflict heavy damage.
He stared at Tylar, twirling the blade around flawlessly with no effort. The diamond blade shined bright in the light, the iron hilt free of stains and the moonstone in the cross guard illuminating with awe dazzling white and blue. He stood up straight and strengthened his otherwise dead gaze.
Tylar was the second in command of the imperial armies next to Drake, previously the top commander of the army before he allowed Drake to have his position, and even after working with the demigod for years, that cold gaze never settled with him. It was an unnerving glare that caused him to gulp and sweat before the brawl even began. His blood chilled over as if it had become ice.
His red eyes looked over to the twirling blade, remembered when Herobrine used to do the same actions when he watched his men fighting or prepared his own strategic attacks. A habit that Drake had picked up from the demon and now mirrored. The silver haired furrowed his brows and held his iron sword, with small shards of manyullyn in the blade, in front of himself, poised to strike. With that little addition purple metal, his blade was able to damage Drake's skin depending on where the contact point was, that was if he was able to hit him.
The two lunged at one another, the gap between them shrinking until they were in contact, their blades striking the other to cause a small display of sparks igniting between the grinding diamond and iron.
As they stared into each other's eyes, both toe to toe with one another, a chill ran down Tylar's spine as he gazed into the hybrid's blank stare, almost nothing hidden in his eyes. No fear, nor determination, nor care. Yet deep down was a glimpse of satisfaction hidden by the white glow of numbness.
Finally the two jumped away from each other before raining blow after blow on their opponent. Their wrists vibrated with each strike, the human clutching his teeth until they ached. With each swing, the hybrid either blocked or dodged, but was thankfully holding back his power.
They were evenly matched, but the second in command knew his superior better than that. Drake was holding back, and perhaps it was for the best. Whenever they were not clashing, simply standing to anticipate the others next move, Drake twitched, an occasional grin twisting on his lips. The fidgeting further caused a twisting feeling in Tylar's gut, but he took in heavy breaths and calmed his nerves before rushing the Mage once more.
They brandished their weapons with speed and power seemingly matched. Then without warning, the second in command gasped before crying out as a sharp pain sliced across his abdomen.
He collapsed to his knees, his arm going over his bleeding wound that stained his white shirt in deep red. He shut his eyes tight and hissed as his teeth clenched from the stinging pain. His eyes cracked open, watched the blood from the slash seep onto his sleeve. Red eyes looked up as the hybrid stood over him, his blade with Tylar's own red blood dripping down the light blue of the sharp diamond blade, his expression remaining stiff and emotionless.

He hissed through his teeth. "Ow! F**k!"

Drake shrugged his shoulders and walked closer, reaching out and arm as he knelt down and placed his hand over the chest of the silver haired. His hand glowed, and Tylar removed his arm, showing the long, thin line of red close itself up. Drake also cleaned the blood from his skin and the crimson on his shirt faded until the fabric was once again completely white and free of tears.

Drake continued. "Think about it this way. If I were an opposing enemy, you'd be dead, beside, I didn't use my powers, did I? If that were case, you'd really be dead."

Tylar only growled once Drake was finished mending him and the pain faded, standing up and dusting off his knees. He glared at the hybrid and snarled before his gaze slightly softened, then he let out a breathe to relax.
Drake always won, and that frustrated him. A few years back Drake never would have been able to last against him, but after being possessed, learning the strategies of Herobrine and the cultists, he had become exceptionally well at attack, both in melee combat and magical attack.
Drake's gaze remained blank, but he felt guilty for hurting him. He huffed and looked away, beginning to put away his sword and calling an end to the training.
He froze halfway into the action, mouth hung slightly open with his lips gently quivering, looking down as he completely sheathed his sword, frustrated with himself.

He got himself to speak, his voice low. "I'm sorry that I got carried away again."

He yelled in his mind, scolding himself for allowing this to happen again. Tylar noticed how he kept mumbling that he was sorry, causing himself to sigh.

Tylar nodded. "I'm okay, so no need to panic, Drake. That's what you're supposed to do in duel anyway. You always freak out for nothing."

Drake looked over, seeing Meron and Nathan were now also looking his way, having noticed Tylar's call of pain and stopped in their own tasks, watching nearly the entire thing. He rubbed his arms before his limbs felt heavy and sudden sorrow and anxiety washed over him. His chest tightened as he grew anxious and uncomfortable with the others staring at him.

Nathan called out, "Are you guys alright?"

Tylar looked to the hybrid and waited for him to answer, but the demi-god remained silent. He shrugged and turned back to the twenty five year old, painting a smile onto his cheeks as he told them that they were okay. Nathan's eyes immediately traveled to look in Drake's direction, the hybrid still looking troubled.

"Drake, relax. Everything is okay. Tylar is fine. He's not hurt, see?"

Drake looked up to the silver haired then to the auburn. He rubbed his eyes, like he was wiping away tears.

"I know...I'm sorry about that."

"Commander!" Drake stood up straight, ears perking as he spun around to face the source of the call.

His eyes came to rest on a soldier with a near petrified expression consuming his facial features. The hybrid allowed his face to stiffen into a stoic complexion, more curious rather than concerned. What inconvenient need was there now?

"What is it?" Drake asked, apathy present in his tone. The feeling was sudden, consuming.

The soldier gasped three more times before recollecting his composure. Drake, along with three men standing behind or beside him, fixated on the urgency behind the man's voice.

"A century sent to the battles in the west have returned. They acquire your immediate attention, sir."

Drake nodded. "Alright. Where are they stationed?"

"With the airships. Many of the men are critically wounded and are being taken to the infirmary, but many are wishing for you to heal them."

The hybrid lifted up his arm, pointing to the palace doors that previously lead him to the courtyard. "Go inform the emperor of this. Tell him that I'm tending to it. Go."

The soldier bowed before turning on his heels and marching at a face pace to the large doors. Drake only gaze a brief glance to his second in command before marching off to greet his returned men fresh from the battlefield.
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
Where was the dejavu?
...

Eight airships was enough to hold one century, each century containing around eighty legionaries. It was a good thing that the courtyard stretched far over the length of one hundred football fields to hold enough airships for the entire army. He was definitely going to be drained of a majority of his energy once he was finished healing his soldiers.
His eyes settled upon the men getting off of the airships one by one by means of a ramp instead of a ladder.
Drake could immediately see the physical trauma the men had endured, many, some with wounds covered by armor, were covered in bandages. Some held their arms in slings, were limping, or just simply appeared battered. One lieutenant that caught his eye was one that Drake was positive had all of limbs prior to deployment, now with one less arm from the elbow below. The amputee walked down from the ramp, smiling at the sight of Drake as the demigod approached the ship closest to him, arms behind his back.

"Commander! Glad you could make it. Some men were left near completely immobile."

Drake felt no concern, but he knew good morals. He wanted to feel sympathy deep down, but no matter how much he dug and clawed, he could not find it. He felt nothing, but that did not mean that he could not tell right from wrong. He knew that these people needed his help.

"I'd love to help you but I can't heal lost limbs. Not completely anyway."

The soldier shook his head. "I know, sir, but my misfortune is not my concern. Please, help the others. But..."

He pulled out a old but small notebook from his pocket with his one trembling hand, holding it out. Drake took it, examining the torn leather of the front to back cover, the inside filled with pieces of papyrus, some pages with stains of either blood or splotches of ink.

He listened as the legionary continued. "I was able to get that from one of our men before he passed on out on the field of battle. Lieutenant Joseph was his name. He asked for it to be given to you rather than family."

"How unfortunate." Drake wished that he felt something more. His sympathy was weak.

"Wait to read it until all of these men are tended to. Please." The hybrid nodded, sticking the notebook into his pocket.

Drake looked up as yet another person called out his title, another man walking down the ramp, passing the amputee. The captain saluted his superior, a smile on his face despite the grim appearance of the situation before them.

"Markus, first lieutenant of century eight. We're returning from Iveren, which was hit hard by the attacks. Most have been looked at by our combat medics, but there are a few soldiers who wish to see you instead of healing on their own."

Drake questioned, "What happened out there? Who is responsible for taking down all of those cities?"

Markus shook his head. "I'll explain, but as of now, we have a lot of men who are in need of your assistance."

The hybrid gave a soft growl but knew that it was for the better. He was lead into the first aircraft, passing soldier with either minor injuries or those who refused his medical assistance. Even within his own army, Drake knew that many legionaries had resentment towards him for their own personal reasons.
Each man with critical injuries braces themselves for when it was their turn to be mended, knowing the excruciating pain that Drake's healing ability brought with them. They screamed, bit their lips until they bled, bit into thick leather to avoid breaking their clenched teeth, all with tearful eyes once the process was finished.
The legionaries and the first lieutenant who continued to follow Drake through each airship explained their own experiences while out on the vicious battle field. Each account increased his curiosity, a nicotine to his mind that had grown to find everything dull and predictable. Yet this nicotine proved to be toxic, each description arising and old, unpleasant memory.

"They were so powerful. I can't believe that we barely made it out alive. How is it possible for such a small army to be so strong?"

"Every city that they laid siege upon felt so...dark. So evil. A sinister presence unlike anything I've ever felt since... since the temple of Armageddon."

"We tried to help the slaves that they took after they conquered multiple different cities. In most cases, if not all, the moment we undid their shackles, they attacked us like wolves. We had to retreat. So many of us died."

Drake's body stiffened. Slaves? All he could remember was seeing people screaming and crying as they suffered under the lashes of whips, abused in repulsive ways. Each memory was overlaid in a lair of thick white. What were the intentions of this new army that they wanted to gather slaves?
Not only that, but the slaves revolted against their redemption, attacked their saviors. Were they brainwashed?
Anxiety continued to expand within him, twisting his emotions until he no longer knew how he felt.

"They wore red and black armor with powerful magic. Some of them never showed their faces beneath their masks. I looked underneath the mask of one...it was as if he was severely burned. I didn't have enough time to look before I had to continue fighting."

"They spoke in a language I had never heard before, but those voices, the laughter...left me physically ill."

These were soldiers, men trained their entire lives to fight, to witness gore and face the unpredictable. Yet all of these elite warriors were almost broken by what they had faced. Whatever it was they had witnessed, whatever it was they had fought against, left them all shaken.
Drake kneeled down before a dark skinned trooper, his arm in a sling and leg wrapped in bloody bandages, or at least was. Knowing that Drake would heal him, he must of cut off the dressing and opened up the stitching on his leg, finally finishing with pulling the thread out from his skin. Drake felt nothing of it. He simply did as he always did, placed his hand on the wound and focused, letting his hand glow and heal the gash.

"Why weren't you there?" The trooper growled through his teeth, intense pain flooding through his nerves as Drake healed his physical wounds. The mental wounds could not be mended.

Drake's ear perked, trying to stay focused on healing the man, but his words were getting to him. "You could have stopped this, people getting hurt. Soldiers, innocent civilians dying! You could have prevented it!"

Once he was healed, the demigod allowed his hand to fall limp, all thought consumed by the inferior command's harsh words. His glowing eyes stared to the ground, lost in a hypnotic state. The first lieutenant noticed his superior's blank eyes, not blank in the way they usually were. With his mouth now hung, frozen in place, he immediately knew that the soldier had pushed their commander too far. If he continued his blabbering then Drake's anger or his uncontrolled power would be unleashed, and either one would not be pleasant.

"That's enough soldier! This is your commander you are speaking of. The emperor is the one you should bring the issue up to. Drake can not choose when he is deployed."

As the soldier pushed himself up, leaving Drake staring to the ground with eyes like a deer in headlights. He dusted himself off, cracking his neck and knuckles, shaking his body alas he got it used to movement once more.

"Exactly! It is not right that the emperor can pick favorites! We have to see the bloody horrors out there while this freak sits on his a** like the petty god he wants everyone to view him as!"

Every man froze once their wooden confinement began to tremble, filling with a high pitched, distorted growl that hardly resembled one. All eyes averted to their commander as he slowly stood, towering over all and staring down his condemner. The dark skinned stared into the hybrid's glowing eyes, pupils barely visible now turned into slits bleeding with anger.

"I never asked for this; to have this power."

Everyone felt chills run down their backs as the hybrid laughed. "You think you've seen horror. You would not last a day seeing what I've seen, knowing that you've done the things that I've done. So quit lamenting your own sorry a** and be a f**king soldier!"

Not a single eye could bring itself to rip away from him, the room swept with a bitter cold. They felt like their hearts had stopped, their blood running like ice. Many had forgotten to breathe. Only did Drake stand down with the inflicter of his anger had finally broken eye contact, staring to the floorboards in fear. Drake's eyes lifted, looking around the room to see all eyes resting on him. An intense uneasiness bubbled inside of him.
As he forced himself to take in a deep inhale, he spun on his heels and whipped out the sheet of paper handed to him earlier. His fingers ran across it, knowing that it was written by a man that had lost his life; said life that he could have saved. His eyes shut tight once he released his breath, calming down to a degree.

"Clear the ship out. Everyone get your rest. You deserve it. Afterwards restock then the emperor will decide rather or not anymore men will be sent out."

Even with the thought of being home, to finally be able to rest, a time that should have been rejoiced, no one made a sound. No one made any sort of movement. They all remained frozen, struggling to rip their gazes away from the doorway as their commander slipped out of sight.
...

Drake's point of view-

The words of those men scratched at my thoughts, not the conflict between myself and the trooper, but their descriptions of the battlefield. They caused my gut to twist, each word bringing about a painful memory. Can I even call it painful? It's more so...numbing. Depressing. Recalling what I had seen, what I had done, what I had been through, it left me empty. If this force we were heading out to fight truly was what I hypothesized, then what was in store for our empire? For this peace as we knew it?
I looked down at the notebook between my fingers, opening it up to look down at thick writing, the sloppy penmanship as if written both with haste and a trembling hand. This made it quite difficult to read, finding myself at the doorway of the library by the time I had figured out what a majority of it had said. It was odd to feel goosebumps rise up across my skin. This all felt new.
I went to the palace library where Lalea, Landen, Endy and I usually hung out, but I was alone of course thanks to it being school hours. Scholars and other nobleman hung out in the library as well, immersing themselves in study. Truly, it was the perfect place to help relax one's mind, being here helped my mind to keep calm. Not only that, but I was exhausted after using so much energy to heal those troops. At least I was now able to heal more than one person unlike when I was first resurrected.
It was quiet and dark, the atmosphere relaxing yet a tad bit eerie for those who had never stepped foot into it before. It was massive with numerous bookshelves stacked tall, with candles and soft crimson rugs on the floor. There were two stories, one with a balcony, and the bottom floor with a fireplace that was almost always lit this time of year. Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling help to light the room, and a table was in the center of the room with a red and blue cloth over it. There were also soft, plush leather chairs and a couch that was a nice maroon color.
I sat at one of the tables, pulling out a chair and sitting down upon it. As I opened up the book and let my eyes scan across the pages, I was immediately invested. It was dated back to a month ago, back when we had first sent out our soldiers to investigate complaints of attacks by allied kingdoms.
At first the writing was not too difficult to comprehend nor was the subject of the writing too grim. The first few pages I got through without much thinking to apply, then the writing itself began to change. The penmanship grew sloppy, the tone became more grim.
As my eyes scanned my fingers clawed at the table, each word causing my anxiety to rise. The shock kicked in when my gaze rested upon a gut wrenching name that made my stomach want to vomit. As I began shaking, the voices in my head increasing in volume, I attempted to keep my focus, not matter how much Herobrine's voice beckoned me. The voices in my head rose, repeating everything that I was reading, but the delayed voices made it difficult to focus.
My eyes grew, my body grew tense. I felt a pressure in my stomach like I would hurl, but my stomach had nothing to let out. Sweat dripped from my pores, hairs standing on the back of my neck.
No. This can't...It can't be them!

"A rising power has been conquering the west, an army that commands the dead to rise to feast upon the living. Zombies have not been around since He was taken out. They wear the colors of darkness and blood, with eyes that change into rubies when using their magic. It reminded me of the armor that the cult of Herobrine wore, but much more intricate. Much more powerful.
The army seems to be heading northeastern toward imperial territory and our allies in Iron mere, their goals unclear other than to conquer. Once they cross the west border into imperial land, what will we do? What will they do? No, I have to stay positive throughout this endeavor! We will win."

The next entry...

"We were able to get behind the walls of Nikithis...never have I ever seen such a sight of horrendous doing, not even before the fall of Him. The brutal torture the slaves were put under, forcing them to fight each other as if preparing them for true battle. That's exactly what they were doing. When we tried to take the city back, I can only say that all h**l broke loose. The slaves that we tried to free attacked us. We were pummeled by magic attacks that I have never before witnessed, not even by the commander. D**m do I wish he was here.
That was not the worst of it. Each person we killed reanimated as a walking, bloodthirsty corpse. What are we dealing with? The cult? But they are far too powerful from when we had last faced, if it is them at all. We had to retreat."

I was shaking so much that it was nearly impossible for me to read much more. I had to stop and sit there until my body calmed down, the people around me fleeing in fear that my power would lash out. As far I could tell, it did not lash out to my relief. I skipped a few more pages, stopping a few entries before the pages suddenly went blank, covered in dark liquid like that of blood. There was so much blood that bled through the pages that the last few entries were completely lost.

"After taking refuge in a city of kind people, we once again set out to a city now under the control of our enemies. This time things seemed to be in our favor, at least for a moment or two. In a brief moment of near calm, I looked to the walls, almost every one covered in splatters of blood from the backs of whipped slaves or massive scarlet smears that made up words and sentences.
The blood smeared on the walls, they had meaning before the liquid drizzled down to hide itself. I recall a few distinct ones.

"He will redeem us"

"Corruption is spreading"

"Sacrifice the innocent"

"We will not fall away"

"He is coming"

What all of this means, I can only assume; I can only fear. Our kingdom, our empire, has been in peace for years since the fall of His cult. They were all I feared, and now...I truly am scared. For my life, the lives of my comrades, for our empire. We have to make it out of this. We have commander Drake, we have the emperor's dragon. We can win this. We have to, otherwise... I don't want to think of the outcome."

"It's too late, Drake. They all...will. Die."

I looked up, shaking and sweating, the panic drowning out all of my senses beside fear and overwhelming anxiety. I could not move, I could hardly think. All I could do was stare into those luminous white eyes...
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