Elyna got up from the single bed, reaching under it and pulling out a folded black canvas material which she unfurled, making a knot with the strings attached as she hung the knotted strings on a silver hook, moving straight across, knotting the other strings before attaching to another hook, revealing a perfectly tensioned hammock lifted a few feet from the floor. Elyna collected a white blanket and a feather pillow from a drawer, placing them in the hammock.

  ‘Thanks, Elyna,’ Selina said.

  ‘You’re welcome. Good night.’

  ‘Night.’

  Elyna went straight into bed without hesitation as Selina placed the book back on the bookcase before climbing unsteadily into the hammock, rolling from side to side. She lay comfortably staring at the dark brick ceiling in the dimly lit room as her mind raced.

  What was she missing?

  She closed her eyes, reaching out, discerning the energy of Atansupra. She couldn’t remember the last time she had ventured out of Osela. Here, the energy choked, appearing as simmering cauldrons frothing with black goo. Atansupra lacked energetic freedom. The energy condensed and trapped, keeping the entire frequency of the town at an indistinct murmur. Selina wasn’t shocked, but she was interested in learning who or what had energetically trapped these points within the town.

  Surely it connected to the Augteeray Ley Lines?

  She remained unsure of their exact location and would have to ask Manach when she returned to Osela. Each bubbling cauldron spat with the forked tongue of the Malevolent. It seemed preposterous that this unseen energetic disturbance was not majorly influencing the Isle of Ophlen. She shifted her focus back to herself, feeling slightly icky after remote viewing the town. She gave thought to the mission tasked to her and Elyna. The dangers were obvious, but Selina pondered the aftermath and whether they were successful in assassinating the king and queen, as well as rescuing Elsbeth. What would that mean for Shiel’Dura and the Isle of Ophlen? Would the legitimate king and queen be able to bring regeneration and balance? The possibilities were exciting, and the workload overwhelming. These were future questions, as she at last allowed her mind to drift into peaceful sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Infernal fires rained

  on that chaotic day

  two stood at the gate

  a choice made

  a secret taken inside

  Demonslayer Alzar

  Through the twisting burrows, roots grasped every observable surface with ancient awareness, an earthy odour of lost civilisations penetrating his respiratory system. He took deep conscious breaths, the air thinning the further he descended, following the bowmen who had confronted him silently on the doorstep of Harrington Hall. The endless passages Lachlann had traversed were lit with small clusters of luminescent orbs, the earth-infused grotto with evergreen plants and roots the size of pillars, forming the grotto’s walls, and in the centre sat a woman dressed in white and green garments, which were befitting and gave the woman an airy and relaxed aura. She sat on a tree trunk carved into a circular, deep-seated chair. Lachlann inspected the men who had escorted him, all wearing matching forest green garb decorated with patches of moss and twigs. They wore face coverings, which revealed only their blue eyes.

  ‘Greetings, Demonslayer Lachlann. I am High Druidess Aoife, and my men who brought you here are the Willowmen.’

  Lachlann kept quiet, not out of disrespect but mesmerised by the appealing quality of Aoife’s eyes, holding nature’s eternal code. A bluish—green combination of trees and rivers complemented her sleek appearance and wavy brown hair.

  ‘High Druidess Aoife, why have you asked me here?’

  ‘You have been causing quite a stir in the spiritual space. The souls you have released have allowed a semblance of truth to come to the fore.’

  ‘Which is?’ Lachlann enquired.

  ‘That souls have not freely shifted beyond the plane after death.’

  ‘And are they free now?’

  ‘Not quite.’

  ‘Then what is the purpose of my engagements with the archdemons, whom I slew to free the souls? I heard the souls express gratitude for their freedom, among other things.’

  High Druidess Aoife said nothing as she keenly observed Lachlann, who spoke again. ‘But enough about me. I would like to know a little more about you?’

  ‘I am nature’s guardian, an ascendant and keeper of flow, enriching and enlivening the landmass with spiritual conjurations that bring harmony to Ophlen, yet my focus extends beyond into Tyrora, as any ascendant’s duty does.’

  ‘Another ascendant?’ Lachlann said with contrived ignorance.

  High Druidess Aoife’s eyes narrowed as she leaned forward. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve met an ascendant before.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Mathos.’

  Aoife leaned back, beginning to rub her thumb, index, and middle fingers together on her left hand.

  Lachlann noticed the Willowmen throughout the room standing up taller. The mere mention of Mathos had generated significant attention within the room. He felt he should guard his interactions with Aoife: these ascendants had vested and ulterior motives they weren’t willing to share.

  ‘What did he say?’ Aoife demanded.

  Lachlann sensed passive aggressiveness in her tone. ‘Similar to how our interaction has gone thus far. Cryptic.’

  ‘You would guard yourself, Demonslayer. Are you sure that is wise?’

  ‘I am not a pawn for the ascendants to use. You will need to be more forthright in your intentions if you want me to open up.’

  ‘You are playing a dangerous game,’ Aoife asserted.

  ‘Then enlighten me about your true motives, or I will be on my way.’

  Suddenly, five Willowmen surrounded Lachlann. Green pointed arrows trained at his head as a deep masculine voice spoke. ‘Is that so?’

  Lachlann flickered with intensity, staring at the Willowmen, training his bow directly at his temple, lowering his bow as he took off his green mask, revealing a grey beard with a wrinkled and war-torn face. ‘I am Arkelo, leader of the Willowmen. We serve High Druidess Aoife. We believed your alliance was with the Braemuir Brotherhood. Before you accepted your destiny as Demonslayer.’

  The other four lowered their bows, taking a few steps back to give Lachlann space to gather his thoughts. Lachlann’s eyes softened at the mention of the Brotherhood. Various memories fluttered through his mind before speaking. ‘Your impression is correct.’

  ‘And does your loyalty still churn for the Brotherhood?’ Arkelo questioned.

  ‘It does.’

  ‘Then why would you speak with Mathos?’ Aoife asserted.

  ‘I had no choice. He swooped down on me as I travelled to Loch Albra. I sat in his room. What is your issue with Mathos?’

  ‘Mathos is a trickster.’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’

  ‘Some more than others.’

  ‘Aoife, you hesitate when I divert questions towards you. I cannot assist you if you continue to hold the cards close to your chest.’

  Arkelo turned his back on Lachlann, facing Aoife as she gave a dampened expression. ‘Do you know much about Atansupra?’

  ‘Outside of it being the League of Seltookra stronghold, I can’t say I do.’

  ‘Atansupra was once a sea-grove town. A hub of natural beauty where people lived amongst the trees, with connecting sky bridges hung above the mosaic-rooted floor. Rich, earthy tones brought everyone closer to Zen. Until the nefariousness of the Malevolent hijacked the Tyrora Archipelago, luring people towards desire, greed, violence, and betrayal. Such actions would help strengthen the Malevolent’s resolve, turning Atansupra into a greystone dump without the Benevolent’s breath.’

  ‘Why can’t the Benevolent intervene? Is the Benevolent not equal in power to the Malevolent?’

  ‘Not that simple. The spiritual power of the souls that live within each of us powers both the Benevolent and the Malevolent. But not just that, their power comes through the Augteeray Ley Lines, which span across all four Isles of the Tyrora Archipelago,’ Aoife paused, her eyes glimmering. ‘The forces of the Malevolent control the Augteeray. The ley lines cannot revitalise until Dejero-Obitus has fallen.’

  ‘What has Dejero-Obitus got to do with the ley lines?’

  ‘They constructed the tower on top of the ley lines and have subjugated all the energy from Atansupra and Beinn Idrah, channelling all the energy back to Dejero-Obitus. Essentially, controlling the spiritual power of Ophlen.’

  ‘But then what about places like Osela and Klertinmor, which are areas in alignment with the Benevolent?’

  ‘Osela and Klertinmor are balancing points. While they align with the Benevolent, they cannot overcome the dark energy that comes through the three lines. The Lady of the Brae and Muir energetically protect Osela, while the knights protect Klertinmor through the divine resonance they are beholden to.’

  ‘While I am intrigued by the historical landscape of Tyrora, why are you telling me this?’

  Aoife took a moment, pursing her lips together. ‘I wish to know where your loyalties lie, Demonslayer. Your path wrestles with light and dark like no other.’

  ‘My loyalties are with personal freedom. I cannot in good conscience swear allegiance to the will of the Benevolent or Malevolent. I must continue my path forth, thus gathering more information. And your loyalties?’

  ‘To the Benevolent,’ Aoife resolutely asserted.

  ‘I am glad you are forthright in your allegiance. But I cannot give you a definitive answer at this moment. Now, I must return to my duties. Perhaps our paths will cross again.’ Lachlann turned, beginning to walk out of the grotto.

  Aoife’s voice rang out. ‘And did you think I was unaware of you letting the archdemon live at Loch Albra?’

  ‘Your awareness is your own,’ Lachlann snapped.

  ‘You are treading dangerously, Demonslayer, yet I am not convinced you are befitting of that title,’ Aoife retorted.

  Lachlann craned his neck around, revealing his glowing green eyes. ‘Then challenge me.’ He continued walking out of the grotto.

  ‘Demonslayer! You are making a mistake!’ Arkelo shouted.

  ‘My mistakes are my own,’ Lachlann coldly said, stopping a few feet from the tunnel which led back towards the surface.

  High Druidess Aoife stood up from her tree stump, taking a few steps forward. ‘Then our next meeting will not be so amicable.’ An anger pulsed through Aoife’s voice.

  ‘Very well.’

  Lachlann disappeared into the darkness of the spiralling tunnels, leaving Aoife and the Willowmen behind.

  He strode wilfully back to the surface. Perhaps he had tried to deceive the High Druidess and the Willowmen of his true intentions, but in the end, it didn’t matter; they had assumed as much. He had chosen caution in what he believed to be unnecessary and unwarranted attention from these ascendants, whom, truthfully, he knew very little about. An ascendant, by definition, was someone who had grown or risen in influence to a place or understanding above and beyond the normalcy of the average human being, who was attempting to raise their family, protect their Brotherhood, or figure out a way to define their existence. An ascendant in Lachlann’s experience appeared able to peer into the unseen layers with far greater efficacy. And for that reason alone, he had to be guarded until he was privy to more knowledge that could assist his decision-making. He didn’t have to convince Aoife or Arkelo of his loyalties to his Brotherhood, and he had learnt a thing or two from his interactions with archdemons and ascendants, pertaining to strategy and not giving too much away like a headless chicken, ecstatic to be graced by powerful beings. He had grown wiser and looked forward to testing his wisdom when required. Refusing to be drawn into the political and lopsided games of ascendants who were unwilling to reveal their true intentions. High Druidess Aoife had attempted to sidetrack Lachlann with her historical knowledge of Atansupra, which, while interesting, had revealed nothing explicitly about her role and duty. Aoife had been more concerned with Lachlann swearing allegiance to the Benevolent, and she had grown incredulous of him at the mention of Mathos. At least they aligned on their distrust of Mathos, but he had thought it wiser to keep his distrust to himself rather than voice it carelessly. He reached the surface, coming through the tree trunk which he had initially entered a stone throw from Atansupra, he would take a gander through the town once more before taking his leave, he had scared an entire town into hiding as he made his way back towards the grey pillars which appeared to mark every entranceway in Atansupra his vision escalated with energy going from bright distinctive shades to the irregular black and white view of reality where wisps and black apparitions would flow harmlessly around him and as he locked eyes on a certain tenement building he could visualise a heavy smoke pouring out from the building yet strangely it stayed contained within its area. Lachlann was still trying to figure out the relevance of his vision, although he couldn’t be certain that the energy was the manifestation of Benevolent and Malevolent energy; the wisps and apparitions threw his theory off. How did they roam freely within the energetics? They differed from the souls he had seen in Loch Arbatur and Albra: they had freedom, slowly gliding through reality, unseen to all but his eyes.

  Could they be a manifestation of broken-down or decrepit energy?

  Lachlann would continue to examine his surroundings in search of understanding the phenomenon he was witnessing. He continued to walk the empty and gloomy streets of Atansupra, resigning himself to its desolate atmosphere until he sensed something from above as he froze, staring at the chipped grey stone balconies which lined the roofs of the tenements.

  ‘There’s someone down there,’ Elyna whispered.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don't know. Look for yourself.’

  She stayed crouched, creeping her head over the balcony to see a dark-cloaked man with his hood down and with a massive claymore hilt poking up from behind him. She recognised that face. It couldn’t be, could it?

  She stood up, taking her hood down as she called out. ‘Lachlann?’

  ‘Selina?’ Lachlann responded.

  Selina, without hesitation, began scaling down the building as Elyna followed behind until they athletically and stealthily touched down beside him. Selina could see him closer now as her eyes welled up with pearl-like tears.

  What had happened to him?

  He had darkness strewn across his face.

  ‘What are you doing here, Selina? Are you an assassin?’ Lachlann surprisingly asked.

  ‘Following a lead and yes, things have changed significantly for both of us, it seems.’

  ‘We’re sitting ducks standing here. We'd best move out of Atansupra as we speak,’ Elyna interjected.

  Lachlann stared coldly at Elyna, who had kept her face covered. ‘Elyna? I guess Tasgall was right. You had a purpose, after all.’

  ‘Don’t use that name around here. It’ll draw unnecessary attention. Let’s walk.’

  Lachlann smirked. ‘From the league? Don’t worry about them. I sent them into hiding when I arrived in Atansupra. I ran into them at the dried-out fountain somewhere around here.’

  ‘Well, that explains a lot,’ Elyna responded.

  Selina looked with slight concern at Lachlann before speaking. ‘And you're the Demonslayer?’

  ‘Guilty as charged.’

  ‘And what have you been doing?’

  ‘Releasing trapped souls within Loch Albra and Arbatur.’

  ‘Trapped souls?’

  ‘The archdemons have been trapping the souls in the lochs, harvesting and feeding on them.’

  ‘We really know so little about things,’ Selina shook her head. ‘And your next stop is Loch Khemis?’

  ‘It is. But tell me, has the betrayer Hamish met his end?’

  Elyna’s head dropped at the mention of Hamish as shame passed through her body, shock waves of writhing agony to which she was bound.

  ‘He has,’ Selina sharply responded.

  ‘By whose hand?’

  ‘Keegan.’

  Lachlann’s eyes shifted from glowing green to blue, lighting up slightly at the mention of Keegan’s name, appearing to recollect a few memories before returning to his external steeliness.

  ‘The Brotherhood misses you. They would love you to visit.’

  ‘No,’ he responded in a deep tone as his eyes flickered with the same dark green glow that his claymore emitted.

  Selina took a deep breath, taken aback by what she had seen.

  Lachlann sensed he had caused slight alarm with his adamant response. ‘I can’t. Not right now. But tell me, are they okay?’

  ‘It’s okay, Lachlann. They're fine. They are making final preparations for war against Naldenveer.’

  ‘The ritual… how many days until the battle begins?’

  ‘Four days.’

  They exited Atansupra as they trod along the mucky path, as Lachlann asked. ‘What are you two doing?’

  Selina looked at Elyna, who gave her a nod as she spoke, ‘We are heading back to Osela first, but we must assassinate King Drusus and Queen Melantha within Dejero-Obitus and rescue the legitimate queen.’

  Lachlann stared at them with ruthlessness, sensing the grave danger their mission would put each of them in. ‘You must destroy the tower.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The tower controls and influences the Augteeray Ley Lines.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Selina enquired.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Of course it matters. Tell us?’

  ‘I cannot involve you in such affairs. Promise me you will inform the Brotherhood. Dejero-Obitus must fall.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘I must leave for Loch Khemis. Good luck, Selina and Elyna,’ Lachlann bluntly said.

  ‘You too. Demonslayer Lachlann,’ Selina caringly said.

  They observed as he walked into the distance. The green glow of the Claymore of Shaldorahuran lingered, a demonic trail in his wake.

  Selina pulled her hood up and masked her face, concealing the range of emotion she was feeling. What had happened to Lachlann? What untold pain and agony had he endured? These were questions neither the Brotherhood nor she would get the answers to. Lachlann’s pain was his own, and his burden far greater than anyone could comprehend.