A thick, oily stench of iron and rot filled her lungs. The corruption wasn't just a sight; it was a physical presence—a slithering wave of black-red sludge chasing her. She stumbled, catching her breath.

  Then the sight of her mother, whose eyes were wide with a terror that cut deeper than any blade. "Run!" she screamed, just as tendrils of the living blood shot out from the floor, coiling around her ankles. The corruption swallowed her whole, even as more of their kind were consumed.

  A familiar figure appeared: Emmet. He was coming toward her, his silhouette against an impossible, clean horizon. She ran, her arms outstretched, but with every step she took, his form seemed to recede, shimmering like a mirage over hot sand. "Nooo... Emmmett!" The light around him slowly dimmed, vanishing like a star winking out.

  Eanne shrieked herself awake, scrambling back until her shoulders hit the headboard. Her tears were hot tracks down her cold cheeks, her chest heaving. Emmet’s voice was a soft anchor in the terror. "Calm down, Eanne. It was just a dream. I'm here. I’m right here," his hand gentle on her wrist as she sobbed into his chest.

  Since Eanne was somehow connected to him, he felt the sharp stab of her fear, and he too shuddered.

  "It's okay, Eanne," he repeated. "It was just a dream." Eanne knew her kind could have dreams like this, and they were always an omen or a message. She couldn’t let Emmet know that; she didn’t want him to worry.

  "Come," Emmet said softly, pulling back. "The others must have been waiting."

  As they left their room and walked through the compound towards the meeting place, they passed makeshift triage areas. The sight was not good.

  The air, usually crisp, was thick with the metallic scent of blood and disinfectant. Luminaries, stripped of their shining armor, worked frantically alongside civilian healers, tending to the wounded. Groans of pain cut through the tense quiet. They saw rows of still bodies being carefully wrapped in simple white shrouds, waiting to be buried. Countless had died.

  Eanne’s steps faltered slightly as she passed a stretcher. She didn't dare look, but the sheer number of shrouded forms was impossible to ignore. The silence of the survivors was heavier than any cry. Her dream hadn't just been a warning of future evil; it was showing her the consequence of inaction. How could they talk of saving a continent when the city around them was already a grave? She felt heartbroken.

  Emmet remained stoic, his face a mask of grim determination, but his pace didn't slow. The despair of the world she’d seen in her dream felt terrifyingly real here. For the moment, the Luminaries who saw them paid them no mind; there were no guards, no glares, just a mutual acknowledgment of the overwhelming crisis. All previous grudges were drowned out by the tide of the recently dead. Emmet was serious, absorbing the brutal cost of the Seraphs' power.

  Seeing Eanne's face pale with mounting distress, Emmet reached for her hand. "It's okay, Eanne. You need not see all this. Please rest inside me for now." He gave her wrist a gentle squeeze. Eanne nodded faintly, closing her eyes, and with a faint shimmer, she magically phased into Emmet's inner world. He felt her presence settle deep inside his mind, a faint, familiar warmth, and then walked into the room alone.

  Raze greeted them in a sparse room. He looked exhausted, his jaw clenched. Julian, the ever-fun character, stood beside Raze, his usual joking demeanor replaced by a fierce, silent intensity. Arian sat at a corner table, diligently cleaning and calibrating the mechanisms of her elaborate weapons, a sign of deep, focused anxiety.

  "I know you're still tired, perhaps afraid. But the message from those Seraphs is clear. It’s a challenge."

  "Clearly, it's a trap," Emmet countered immediately, crossing his arms. "Acting rashly will put us all in trouble. Besides, we already know that we can’t do anything about it."

  "I know," Raze admitted, slamming a fist on the table. "Which is why I won't force you to come with me."

  Julian stepped forward. "I'm in, no matter what. I can’t let our leader dive in there without assistance."

  Arian nodded grimly, without looking up from her work. "This is suicidal, Emmet is right. Just us won't change a thing, but I know that not doing anything is wrong."

  Emmet was strongly opposed. "This is beyond stupid. I know you want to do something heroic, but going there without enough resources, backup, a plan—and we don’t even know what else they have. They’re taunting us because we’re just for fun. Didn't you see the power of those Seraphs?"

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Julian took a stiff step toward Emmet, his hand hovering near the dagger at his hip. "Do you think Raze is a fool? We can't stand by while they—"

  "Yes, he is indeed a fool, and I'm calling it a waste of valuable assets!" Emmet snapped back, his voice rising for the first time. "I saw what they can do. One sacrifice means they lose four of their strongest. That's the only metric that matters, not some glorious suicide charge!"

  "I understand it all too well, Emmet," Raze cut in, stepping between them, his gaze hard. "But I will still go. In case I fail—"

  Emmet cut him off, his voice ice cold. "Which is 100% sure." He paused, letting the silence crush the room. "Which is why," he continued, leaning forward with a sardonic smirk, "I asked for help from someone in short notice."

  Raze looked confused. "What do you mean?"

  "I didn’t say I wouldn’t come with you. I said it's a stupid idea," Emmet clarified. "We need to at least increase our chance to win, or at least survive. I'm leaning more on survival than winning. Which is why I asked them. Even though I hated the Luminaries, they will spare lots of their men, including the Grand Marshal himself, along with his strongest fighters. And also..."

  A sharp, deliberate rap echoed on the door, and before anyone could answer, the door swung inward. A tall man stepped in, his posture military and his gaze intense. "—that’s right. Coming with you."

  "The name is Ricke, from the Vanguard," the man announced. He was joined by some of his elite attacking force. Ricke gave Julian a brief, acknowledging nod—a familiar face who he had faced in countless brutal skirmishes from long ago, acknowledging each other's presence.

  Emmet shrugged. "Well, he was insisting, and I didn’t actually invite them, but the more we have, the better."

  Inside a hall now filled with the presence of many Luminaries, including the sturdy figure of Grand Marshal Guz, Ricke appointed himself commander. He had quickly prepared the room as their command post, complete with maps.

  "We don’t have time to call for more help or to make a grander plan. As per our intel, we only have maybe four to five hours left," Ricke stated, his eyes sweeping the room. "This is suicidal. Anyone not up to this must remove themselves from the room."

  Everyone stayed.

  Grand Marshal Guz spoke, his voice booming. "We couldn’t afford to send all my soldiers, as we need to care for the wounded and protect this city. But I can guarantee you that the men coming with me are the best of the best. The Luminaries have proven their worth, surviving the Bloodbound attacks yesterday."

  "Well then, since there’s no objection here," Ricke said. "Raze, you will be the core part of this mission. If you’re up to it, I need you to go all out, and when I say all out, I mean..."

  Raze cut him off, his expression resolute. "You need not worry about that. I plan to do so and I promise I won't hold back."

  "Good," said Ricke. "Now, Emmet, you have the stage."

  Emmet stepped forward and explained what he understood of the ritual process.

  "The Demon Altar thirsts for death. That is the most common requirement of altars," Emmet explained. "They differ in methods and form, but one thing is true: they demand a high volume of sacrifice. The place is called Apollas—a worship mountain for believers of the God of Light. Lots of people will be gathered there today, which is the perfect chance for them to begin their ritual."

  "Once they have the required death, the altar will be activated, and one of the cultists will act as a vessel to summon a demon from the other side. The demon, as I have observed, cannot survive in this world—I believe the atmosphere here weakens them. Which is why they require a vessel: a human they’ve altered to be compatible for the demon. But it’s actually a trap for the demon itself. The altar is designed to shatter the summoned entity and condense its essence into a Demonic Crystal. What they do with the crystal, I do not know."

  "Thanks, Emmet," Ricke said, his gaze becoming rock hard as he addressed the assembly. "Now, before I outline the plan, let me be absolutely clear: this is a suicide mission. No turning back once we go in."

  He paused, letting his next words sink in. "People will die at Apollas Mountain. Our mission is not to save them; our mission is to stop that ritual."

  "If we fail to destroy the Altar, the demonic crystal is created, and countless more will die across the continent. If we succeed in stopping the ritual, we have a chance to save far more people in the future. We are not rescuers today; we are butchers of necessity. I believe you all understand that. Do not go off-task trying to save the civilians, and focus on your assigned target. Focus on the mission."

  "Since all of you agree to this, here is the plan. We don’t have much time, so don’t expect any more backup. We need all the advantage we have. We know the place, and this time, we will attack from the air. Forget the gate, forget stealth. We attack head-on."

  "The strategy is a pronged assault, dividing our units. The Luminaries will drop on this spot, focusing on defensive positions to taunt all enemies. Yes, you will be the decoy. Grand Marshal Guz and a few of his elite will focus on one of the Seraphs. My team will handle another stronger Seraph. While Raze and his team will fight a Seraph, their primary goal is for Raze to destroy the Altar."

  "Our strategy requires speed. Time is of the essence. Now go. Gather your weapons and bring all that you need. We have arranged air vessels, and the Luminaries have provided their own ships. We leave in one hour."

  A soft beep sounded on Ricke’s comm device. He listened, his face hardening. "One of my informants just reported that the gathering of people has already started there. Make it 30 minutes, and be ready to depart."

  The words dropped into the tense silence like a stone into water, shattering the last illusion of having enough time.

  The room instantly erupted into a flurry of desperate, focused movement. Everyone rushed to their respective posts to board the air vessels. Emmet and his team joined Ricke's vessel, cementing the alliance for the assault. Ricke spoke into his comm: "We no longer delay. Communication must be open across all channels. We will discuss other matters while we are en route."