Lord of the realm

Earlier, as the golden army moved through the night, Lord Commander Thaddeus raised his gauntleted hand to signal a halt. His pale blue eyes scanned the distant castle walls, noting the strange lights that flickered within and the unnatural energy that seemed to pulse from the old stones.

"Captain Markus," he called to one of his human subordinates, a grizzled veteran with scars crossing his weathered face.

"Yes, my lord?" Markus replied, guiding his warhorse closer to his commander's mount.

"Tell me again—is the intelligence true? Has the Redmoon Coven truly gathered in such numbers at this place?"

Seeing the place had no guards and there wasn't anyone who came out to meet them. It seemed like the place had no minimum security.

Captain Markus nodded grimly, his hand unconsciously moving to rest on the blessed sword at his side.

"Aye, my lord. We caught one of their scouts three leagues back. A young witch, barely past her twentieth year. She tried to fight us, but our nets held her fast."

The Captain's expression darkened with the memory. "She was stubborn at first, that one. Spat curses at us, tried to call down lightning from the clear sky. And next, when our blade was struck, she…"

He shrugged, as if the rest was obvious.

Thaddeus nodded approvingly.

Markus was saying that they took her and did a full interrogation on her, making her spill everything she knew.

It was not a gentle interrogation method, but it was thorough.

"And what did she tell us before her execution?" the Lord Commander asked, though he already knew the answer.

"That the Redmoon Coven has called a great gathering, my lord. That a large group of witches was on their way to this harbor city, and all of them were to be assembling inside those castle walls."

"What is their reason for this gathering? Surely, they don't march in larger groups if not for something important," he said.

Markus nodded. "Yes, my lord. It sure is, but we couldn't get any information regarding this gathering."

One of the wolf-beastmen, a massive creature with silver fur showing beneath his golden helm, growled low in his throat. "Let them come together, I say. Easier to kill them all at once than hunt them down one by one."

Thaddeus smiled, but it was not a pleasant expression. "Indeed, Brother Fenris. The witch spoke truly, though she may not have known how truly. My senses tell me there are powers gathered in that castle far beyond mere hedge witches and herb-brewing crones."

As if to prove his point, another pulse of energy washed out from the distant fortress, strong enough that even the least sensitive among his warriors could feel it like a physical pressure against their skulls.

"Resume the march," Thaddeus commanded.

"Tonight, we cleanse this nest of corruption once and for all."

-

But even as the Brotherhood began to move again, another force was approaching the city from a different direction entirely.

From the south, moving through the twisting streets and narrow alleys like scarlet shadows, came the Redmoon Coven in all their terrible glory.

They wore flowing robes the color of fresh blood, and their faces were hidden beneath deep hoods that seemed to drink in the moonlight. Some moved on foot; others rode strange beasts that looked like horses but had too many eyes and teeth like razors.

At their head walked the Coven Matriarch, a woman so old that her true age had been forgotten by all save herself. Her steps were slow but steady, and where her staff touched the cobblestones, frost spread outward in intricate patterns. The other witches followed behind her in perfect silence, their combined power making the very air shimmer with heat distortion.

They had felt the immense surge of Origin energy.

They had sensed the ancient powers stirring within the castle walls as they were nearing the castle. The Coven matriarch was already informed of the boy who was using the Origin power. As soon as she learned the news, she wanted to come by herself.

The Redmoon Coven was almost at the city gates when they spotted the golden glint of armor in the distance.

-

Meanwhile, inside the castle, the four powerful beings had heard enough.

Odessa was the first to speak, her old wisdom cutting through the tension like a blade through silk. "We need to leave. Now. Before they arrive and trap us here."

Jaenor's burning eyes flicked toward the windows, where he could sense the approaching forces converging on their location. His first instinct was to fight, to use his newfound Origin power to burn away these threats like chaff before the wind.

But Odessa's calm voice reached through his rage.

"This is not the time for battle, Jaenor," she said, moving towards him.

"Not against these numbers, not when we are still learning the extent of your new abilities."

Jaenor nodded reluctantly, his ethereal wings beginning to spread. "Then we fly. I can carry you, and we can be miles away before—"

"No."

Odessa's sharp word cut him off.

"Flying will only draw their attention and mark us as targets against the night sky. We go by land, quickly and quietly."

Jaenor couldn't argue with her, and he knows that she was right.

As if responding to her words, Jaenor's magnificent crimson wings began to fade, the Origin energy that formed them flowing back into his body until they disappeared entirely. He still glowed with inner power, but he looked more human now, less obviously ethereal.

Saphyra was already moving toward the ruined doorway, her water-silk dress flowing around her like liquid moonlight. But she paused at the threshold and turned back to look at Jaenor with those oceanic eyes of hers.

"This isn't over between us, Origin Bearer," she said, her voice carrying promises and threats in equal measure. "I will find you again, wherever you go. The call of the deep ocean reaches everywhere, and I will follow it to you."