Hellion's Reckoning

Ailog’s laughter echoed through the grand throne room, like thunder rolling in from a distant storm. His emerald eyes gleamed with delight as he rolled up the blood-stained scroll, the parchment crinkling with each precise fold. “Heaven has gifted us with a grand opportunity,” He proclaimed, holding the scroll aloft with a triumphant flourish. “The Hellion’s shadow looms over us, their dark forces mustering hidden within the depths of their forest. A lost man, bearing the scars of his torment, has emerged from the darkness seeking redemption.”

The assembled advisors exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions heavy with doubt and dread, as they knew the truth that Ailog refused to acknowledge - conflicting allegiances and whispered promises of power had fractured their once-mighty army, tearing it asunder. Yet, in the presence of their lord, dissent was a dangerous flame to kindle. After the treachery of Hector and Tamil, any dissenting voice was swiftly silenced, branded as an act of treason. The city, once a beacon of light and unity, now stood on the precipice of chaos and ruin.

Ava stood in the room’s corner; her head low as she listened to everything. She couldn’t help the smirk creeping at her lips after he’d read the scroll. There had been no communication between her and the Sage since she arrived. He hadn’t given her the entire plan, only instructed her to forge the letters and push Sylvis when he arrived. After his years of tutoring, however, Ava knew when to spot one of his tricks. One thought, a planted seed, echoed in his head. It was a thought he’d already had but would never admit to considering.

“Tomorrow, I will lead the army to the Ravenmoon’s fortress and finally bring an end to this scourge!” Ailog demanded, rising from his seat with a proud smile across his face. The advisors simply nodded and offered quiet support to their lord as he descended from the dais. “Did I not promise a golden age in our time?” He went on, strutting across the floor to his son, who stood with his arms crossed, barely hiding the scowl on his face. “You did, father,” Sylvis echoed the words of the advisors looking between him and Ailog.

The Prefect clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder and beamed a smile. “While I’m engaging the enemy, I will rely on you to guard the city.” He said as something of relief or hope flickered the eyes of all the men gathered. Sylvis watched as a few huddled together, their lips moving silently. He took his spear and offered his father a low bow, “As you wish, father,” Sylvis answered in as submissive a tone as the others, “May the gods grant you a swift victory.”

“We will deliver divine retribution to those devils,” Ailog promised as he proudly strode towards the doors, flanked by his personal guard. Ava followed behind him, made his personal attendant for revealing the general’s treachery. As the doors of the grand throne room closed behind Ailog, the facade of obedience he had just displayed melted away, revealing the seething resentment and burning ambition that churned within his heart.

His father had always seen him as a mere pawn in his plans, a tool to be manipulated and discarded at will. It was clear now. The only golden age he sought was one where he held all the power, and his son played the willing puppet king.

The advisors cast their gazes at the spear in his hand and a couple of them quickly hushed as his eyes met theirs. They would follow him if he betrayed his father. He couldn’t reveal his intentions to them just yet. If it reached his father, he would lose his chance to claim the city. Once he dealt with the man, he would make amends with the two generals and work on rebuilding their army. With Dusk Haven as a powerful base, Inias would never rival his power. After tomorrow, if he survived, he’d become nothing more than a wandering prince to a broken people.