20

  “Ten assaults in the last three months. You and Magnus have led constant battles against Diborn army platoons inside the borders of Edindale. Do you realize the severity of your actions?”

  A pair of radiant gold eyes coldly stared at both Omar and Magnus who listened at the bottom of the staircase. A pale angel relaxed in his throne chair in the great hall of the academy. His face flushed with disgust at the findings he continued to read throughout the battle report that went on for an eternity. His eyes rolled with a deep sigh. The angel didn’t seem full of life, but an imposter to the wings stuck to his back. He wallowed in despair reading the account of battles the two mortals were causing. His radiant golden locks twirled in his other hand.

  “You are tempting them further to attack Edindale.” Ignard boldly claimed.

  The grand hall of Belkos turned colder than the winter they just survived. The daylight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting a dark blue shade over the heads of the three men. Six winged guardians laid their spears to the side, as Iganrd’s guard from the heavens only listened. The air easily choked everyone in the room, tension spread like a disease as Omar marched up the divided staircase to Ignard.

  Omar trampled Ignard’s regal white robes leaning over his ornate thrones armchair. “Would you have me let the people of Edindale be countlessly slaughtered then? Hmph?” Omar questioned.

  “Omar.” Magnus lunged with a nervous tick towards the staircase.

  “No.” Omar halted Magnus’s approach. “He needs to understand. The mortal realm isn’t run how the angels and gods of heaven run their realm.” Omar stated. Magnus relaxed his shoulders with a hesitating sigh. His body still rattled as he could only cross his arms.

  “We all know it. All Eurafalia’s leaders stand behind the Spectors. In fear or in brotherhood, I am unsure of still. But, one thing I know for certain, is that when Boracius and all the other Shardbearers do attack, we cannot stand idle and let innocents be killed. The wards of Belkos will hold for maybe a battle.” Omar stopped. “But when they fall. Then the world of mortals will too. The Diborn army and Dragni will invade”

  Ignard borrowed his brow, leaning forward in an instant, his fingers crawled onto Omar’s shoulder. “You speak his name so easy Diborn.” Ignard battled out the words. “Careful. What says protecting innocents will not be our downfall?” He muttered to Omar, leaning back in his chair and reaching for a pile of grapes. “Diborn like you have no feelings. You should allude to those same ones if you truly wish to defeat the Spectors. It is as you once said, that they hold all the power in the world. The Lotus Blade, our world leaders, and every nation's army. What do we possess? Besides a Diborn afraid to use his power, and some Vikings from the north.”

  He dismissed Omar with a wave, dropping grapes into his mouth. “Win the war. Not battles.”

  Omar stepped closer to Ignard, his eyes fierce with a revolutionary flame. “But these are battles we can use to build for winning the war.”

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  “It is that same weakness that will doom you. A true leader must weigh the cost of war. What good is winning a battle if it leads to ruining an entire country.” Ignard slivered his voice. “Remember how “helping” went for you against Gurin and Kharon? Thousands burned.”

  Omar fell flat. His mind went blank and nothing else could argue against that fact. Ignard voided his argument and he knew it. Ignard sighed heavily leaning deeper into the cushion of his chair. The hall fell silent, with the weight of their brief confrontation shattering any other opinions the hall had. Both contemplated the fate of the crumbling world.

  “Celestial Garden sent an angel to observe men to show if it needed help. I must say what this world has become is purely sad. Men battling against a vestige of history that no matter how many times it is bested it still will never be defeated. The Lotus Blade is an object of evil, but evil was there long before this world.” Ignard halted. “If you continue fighting this battle with no more than mortal will, your pathetic want to be a revolution will fall short. You need something more. No one believes a soulless hero can save Eurafalia, nor the Pale. That is a mere fairy tale the future generations will tell their kids. A man of power is needed.”

  “Ignard. Enough.” Magnus stoutly screamed. “Whether you believe our odds against us or not is your belief.” He slowly crept up the stairs towards the throne of Ignard. “We thank you for your allegiance against the blade. But… we will never stop. Though we may lack resources. It will take the world of mortals to defeat the blade, not one man.”

  “Oh, dear – “

  Ignard reprieved, but Magnus slammed his fist on the angel's throne. “But one man is all that is needed to spark a revolution. You stand before my Prince. The Prince of the Pale is his name. The last remaining son of the last chronicler of the world. He will gain favor and power in the foreseeable future and defeat the doom lurking near. If you do not believe not, believe in me, the one who will follow him into an empty grave until then.” Magnus promised, grabbing the shoulder of Omar.

  A hair could fall from his long luscious locks and it would echo around the entire room. The guardians appeared in awe, whether it be from the foolish ambition of man, or the pure resolve radiating from them. Even Ignard sat amazed by the Viking who stood by the Diborn in front of him.

  “Magnificent. Truly, the will of man.” Ignard chuckled. “Foolish to the end.”

  Magnus. “We will take our leave now.” Omar and Magnus made their way towards the exit. Magnus turned his head, delivering a determined scrying stare to Ignard. “In the world of mortals, it is the dream of fools that take flight and become fortunes. Good day.”

  The horizon dipped in the hall, as shadows cobbled onto the carpet beneath the two heroes' feet. Omar and Magnus both left the throne determined and motivated. Ignard watched pouring himself a cup of grape wine, as the confidence of the two didn’t shatter. Their resolve grew stronger than he anticipated.

  “Magnificent beings you both are.” Ignard commended them in silence. “Magnificent indeed.”

  Magnus and Omar could hear the exchanged uneasy glance Ignard drew behind them. The weight of his whisper crumbled the hall behind them in a pulse. The chill spiraled down their spines, where Ignards stare fell to. “Dragni will not play kindly to fools of this nature.” Ignard slurped his drink. “Not at all. Dragni is always watching those who wish to stand against him. Ignard winked with a sinister look.

  A shadow lurked in this hall also. Someone on the raptures of the great hall's roof, crouched in the shadows, wearing tight black robes. He dangled his hood from his head, and the pointy ears poked out. His soft gray skin blended into the shadows he lurked as he sighed, opening his eyes. He watched Omar and Magnus leave, seeing Ignard rest on his throne. The angel guardians didn’t notice his presence as he scoffed.

  The dark elf reprieved. “And without knowing it. The first act of war began in this very corridor.”