UE Rewrite: B2 — 63. War Is A Challenge (Patreon)

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1. War/Red (Our General Of Bloodlust Has A Problem!)

Undying Empire Index

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War strode forward without the fear of the darkness beyond the veiling mist that surrounded him, his mind on the Gray Coven witches who awaited his arrival. The heavy, humid air filled his undead lungs with the scent of damp earth and the distant promise of rain—it always rained here.

A traitor doesn’t make sense, but the error is too grave to be negligence. Why do I have this feeling that I’m missing something? All of the witches had enough personal time yesterday to cause trouble if they wanted to, and perhaps that freedom led to the opening for tampering…

The path to the caves below the mesa was a rugged and narrow trail through the large jungle trees, flanked by thick foliage that rustled in the wind. A thin mist hid much of the timid creatures that called the area home. The chatter was subdued tonight with Roxim warriors and scouts moving through the underbrush.

Shoving thick ferns to the side, he arrived at the entrance to the mesa’s complex network of caves, a gaping maw of black set into the rocky hillside. War paused, his illuminated crimson eyes drifting to the left as the Roxim scouts checked in.

Everyone checked in… He rubbed the back of his neck as prickles ran down his spine. Then why does it feel like the Roxim’s bloodlust for battle is decreasing? They should be as tense as it can be at night. One problem at a time…

The usually hot nights had a chill mixed with the wind, emanating from within the cavern. He descended into the cool shadows, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls, loud and meant to be heard, as he made his way deeper into the subterranean labyrinth.

The flickering light of torches brightened the main chamber, where the witches of the Gray Coven had gathered. Their voices mingled in a heated discussion as War stood in the darkness, listening to their explanations and accusations.

Carla, the Circle Leader, was the first to speak, her voice tinged with frustration. “I swear, I told Quinnel to inform you about the ritual’s failure, Rylee,” she insisted, her eyes scanning the faces of her fellow witches for support, unsure and now looking toward the Coven Leader. “Sofia and I went out to gather new ingredients to recreate the ritual since the right materials were missing. Our Roxim guard told you everything we did. I left all of that in Quinnel’s hands since I prioritized the ritual.”

Olivia interjected with a wry smirk and crossed arms. “Quinnel's not exactly known for her enthusiasm at completing tasks. Maybe she didn’t hear that part but she sure heard the part about investigating and harping on my little sister for taking the materials.”

Quinnel shifted uneasily at the edge of the group, typically quiet and introverted as the group shifted uncomfortably. The twenty-two-year-old woman’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“I…I didn't hear Carla say anything about the ritual being broken…just that she needed to go out for something and missing materials, but I did see her leave this morning with Sofia. Sofia’s also been going off on her own to practice and find new ingredients…”

The fourteen-year-old looked like she was going to cry. “I’m just trying to be helpful…everyone else is so good, and I wanted to find something new. You’re always by yourself, too.”

“I just…don’t like crowds,” Quinnel mumbled, looking away and fidgeting a little at the attention. “I was always a loner growing up.”

The room erupted into a cacophony of voices, each witch offering their perspective, the bickering casting a sharp edge to the atmosphere. War watched with a detached curiosity, noting the undercurrents of personality and allegiance that colored the debate.

Sofia curled in, the fourteen-year-old closing her eyes and holding her hands over her ears; War recalled hearing that her parents often fought at home before they died in the ri’bot attack, leaving the other girls to bring them into their circle, which was how she became a witch.

Carla raised her hands upon seeing the trembling black-haired teen, her tone firm, showing her more authoritative personality as a Circle Leader. “Enough. We can’t keep going around in circles like this. We need answers, not excuses. I did keep Sofia out longer than I should, and she does need some sleep but she was quite helpful in finding these flowers,” she said with a small smile that seemed to help the teen settle down.

War leaned against the cool cavern wall and cupped his mouth. Her comment made a few of the younger girls giggle, no doubt connecting it to their group being called a circle. Carla was swift to pull the focus back on herself.

“This is my responsibility—the buck stops with me. I should have gone to Rylee myself instead of prioritizing the ingredients. Communication is critical, and I was flustered and annoyed, not thinking clearly”

She paused, a shadow of concern passing over her features while looking to her fellow Circle Leader, Hilda, and their Coven Leader, Rylee. “But what’s troubling me is that no one else noticed or stepped in when I was gone. That’s not like us. There were multiple layers of error that happened from what I’m hearing.”

“You’re not wrong,” Hilda sighed, kneeling down to separate the flowers, ferns, and grasses Carla and Sofia collected. “Something isn’t adding up here.”

Sofia choked out a forced laugh that drew everyone’s attention to the trembling girl as she knelt down to show a few pretty blue flowers. “S-Shouldn’t we focus on the ritual first? We’re supposed to be friends…right? Can we stop fighting…please? We all want to serve The Empress, right?”

War stepped out of the shadows, the conversation halting and all eyes turning toward him.

Sofia is right about the ritual taking priority, but it is that very fact that requires us to figure out where the fault lies… If it is sabotage, then allowing the same perpetrator to mess with the ritual again could spell disaster now that we’re on the verge of war. This could be a simple series of unfortunate events, he mused, but better to act as if it isn’t.

Her eyes darted nervously to the shadows as he stepped out into the light, his tone low to silence the girls and make them listen. “You’re right, Sofia. The priority is to get the ritual working again. How long will it take, Rylee?”

Rylee’s expression calmed as she took a deep breath and looked toward Carla. “It’s a whole new ritual. Carla would be the only one to have the expertise since she’s been studying it all day.”

The blue-eyed botanist hummed, exchanging a frown with Rylee, the silence stretching as she weighed her response. Finally, she shook her head. “With the new ingredients, we’ll have to perform some tests. We need to see how potent these ingredients are and if they’ll interact properly with the ritual’s original design. Additionally…I’m not that comfortable doing it if I’m a suspect.”

War had heard enough. He gestured for Rylee, Hilda, and Carla to join him a distance away, taking the torch to give them light. He led them to a quieter alcove, the echoes of the ongoing discussion fading as they stepped away. He looked between the two Circle Leaders and Rylee.

“We need to expedite this process. The Empress could be back in less than twelve hours. If there’s any chance of sabotage, we can’t afford delays or involving potentially compromised parties, laziness or nefarious notwithstanding.”

Rylee nodded, her eyes thoughtful while shifting to stare at her two juniors. “I’ll coordinate with Hilda’s Circle to streamline the testing. If the ingredients are viable, we’ll work through the night and have the ritual back up by tomorrow.”

Hilda, ever the pragmatic one, added, “And I’ll double-check the shifts. We need to ensure there’s always more mature and advanced witches monitoring the ritual in pairs, especially if Carla’s circle is engaged elsewhere due to suspicion.”

A stillness fell over them as they looked to him to approve their plan. He wasn’t satisfied, though. The sound of the distant jungle echoing through the cave pulled him in, the rhythm of life outside the cave a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere within. They already knew there were many tunnels underneath the valley, and it was possible that there was one that connected this side of the river to the other.

War’s mind raced through the possibilities, already processing the next steps, each scenario more troubling than the last. The Xaltan’s movements across the river, the destruction of the ritual, too many errors that shouldn’t have been made… It’s all too coincidental.

“Rylee, Hilda, Carla,” War began, his voice low as his narrowed eyes lifted to observe their reaction, “I agree Hilda’s Circle should handle the ritual testing. However…first, I need you to examine each other for potential mind control tactics. This could be a deliberate attack, and I want to rule out every possibility.”

The three women exchanged nervous glances. Carla was the first to nod, her expression resolute. “I have nothing to hide. It makes sense. If we are using the Empress’ powers, then obviously we are loyal to her. That doesn’t mean mind control can’t exploit that, though. It’s the only way they could sabotage our efforts without us noticing. Unless someone’s gone delusional and sees us as an enemy to The Empress, which would have shown in other ways.”

Rylee’s lips pulled in for a moment, one arm held across her stomach and one hand cupping her chin. “Was it broken when Olivia traded places with Carla? Carla, you mentioned Olivia was the last one to speak to Alisa’s White Coven, confirming The Empress would return tomorrow morning. Ursula was with her, but you only noticed it was broken twenty minutes after taking over her shift with Sofia. Right?”

Carla’s brow furrowed in concentration. “If it wasn’t me, the only other potential break would have been Olivia, Ursula, or Sofia. Then again, perhaps someone managed to slip past them… Zara managed to make that camouflage charm.”

Silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken fears and suspicions.

Rylee finally spoke, her voice carrying the weight of her position as the coven’s leader. “I think you’re right, War. We need a thorough investigation of all our members. It’s too important to pass up and could cause problems for the ritual itself if mental deception is at play.”

Hilda nodded. “If the three of us do it together, there’s less chance of manipulation or foul play.”

“True,” Carla hummed, a dark look in her sapphire eyes as she glanced at him. “Then again, if all of us are compromised in some way, then it wouldn’t matter since we could exert our authority as leaders over the others to infect them. I’d suggest you prepare for the possibility that the whole coven is compromised, and we’d believe we were doing the right thing.”

Teeth flashing in a wide smile, War glanced between the three dubious women, his chest shaking with mirth. “What a terrible time for paranoia to strike…and in such a divisive way. I can feel the pounding drums of war rising. I do not think The Empress will make it before the initial battle starts.”

“It’s worse than that, I fear,” Rylee whispered, running her fingers through her hair and shifting her hips to stare back at the passageway where the other girls waited. “We’re not well-versed in mind control rituals, War. That’s more Esmeralda and the Warlock’s field. We can attempt to probe for any outside influence, but I can’t promise anything.”

War held up the flaming torch to look into the flickering fire, casting long shadows across the area. He couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was aligning too well, and every woman didn’t show any signs of deception; then again, if they truly believed what they were doing was for The Empress, they wouldn’t be acting. It was as if pieces were fitting into a puzzle he could only see the outline to, yet the image remained hidden.

“We will take what precautions we can. Do it. I’ll remain here, listening. I want a thorough check, including a physical. Tell me what you find when you are finished.”

The witches nodded, determination etched on their faces to uncover the truth. They returned to the main chamber, where the rest of the coven awaited, curiosity and concern mingling in their voices as War remained in the shadows, his back turned to them.

The cool night air passing through the tunnels was a balm to his restless thoughts. He stared at the natural grooves in the walls, elements mixed in sparkling like stars peeking through cloudy browns, reds, and blue stone. Their stories and excuses fit too well. Too perfect. And that’s what botched him.

The hour dragged on as the witches conducted their examinations, each member scrutinized, questions whispered in the privacy of a side chamber between the three leaders and singled out girls before performing their simple analysis rituals.

War knew that Rylee, Hilda, and Carla would do their best, but even their best might not be enough against a skilled manipulator like Shade or Jennifer. It didn’t take long for the ri’bot guards he’d stationed around them to join him after he called for them since they weren’t allowed inside the cave; they repeated everything the witches had said.

An hour after they started Rylee emerged from the darkness and he dismissed the ri’bot to retake their positions. Her torch met War’s, and the woman’s expression, a mix of relief and frustration, told him what she’d found…nothing. War had concluded as much while listening to them throughout the exchange.

“Everyone checks out,” she said, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Hilda, Carla, and I triple-checked everyone. Nothing seems wrong. You heard us perform a few rituals to put them into a daze to also check to see if they might say anything under another manipulation…but nothing. It might just be a lack of communication or something else we’re missing. Maybe someone snuck in and sabotaged it, but…the alert rituals haven’t picked up any movement. I don’t know.”

He looked at her for a few uncomfortable seconds before handing the nervous coven leader his torch. “…Stay vigilant. We can’t waste anymore time. Have Hilda’s Circle do the communication ritual while Carla’s double-checks every ritual around the settlement in pairs of three, with one group having four. We can’t afford another oversight or mistake.”

Rylee’s mouth tightened, her vision downcast and fingers curling into a tight, frustrated fist. “We were supposed to prevent things like this from happening… How could we have been so blind and complacent? We’ll proceed in groups of three, as you said.”

Carla nodded. “Why don’t we start with Sofia since it’s best she gets some rest after the day I put her through, searching through the jungle for replacement materials. Plus, she was with me, and I’m the most suspicious, so it will put the primary suspects on the coals.”

War watched the witches disperse, their focus renewed, but War lingered a moment longer, watching the shadows shift and dance around the cave’s entrance as he moved to watch them form groups and distribute tasks.

The women took a bit longer with Sofia than the rest, which made sense since they had to discuss how best to perform the mind control test and associating protocol they’d use. They were also more gentle with the girl since she had been somewhat verbally abused by her parents. The three women tried to sooth the frightened teen by bringing her into the examination, allowing her to help them check each other.

After fifteen minutes, they moved onto the others once testing a few rituals that War was careful to listen in on. Nothing odd stood out in the words but there were odd pauses from time to time. Everything became more streamlined with each new examination. Even the fourteen and fifteen year olds were determined to push on through the night, but Rylee, Carla, and Hilda insisted Sofia rest to her disappointment.

Upon seeing them moving as one body, tightening up roles and carefully crafted teams, they split to their tasks, and War entered the night again. Despite the thorough investigation, nothing came up, which didn’t sit right with him, yet there were boundaries The Empress would expect him to keep—he couldn’t go stripping or interrogating fourteen-year-olds.

The darkness was more alive with the hum of unseen forces as he exited, the mist thinning a tad. A gentle rain fell over them that would pass in less than an hour, but it sharpened his mind. War’s greaves sank into the mud, leaving a path anyone could follow, daring anyone to do so as he strolled toward the lake. He lifted the radio to his mouth and pressed the button as the liquid started to fall.

“Any movement across the river?”

“Not to the east.”

“Across the river is clear, other than boat keepers tending to them. A change in maintenance shifts thirty minutes ago.”

“The west is still… The fish were acting up earlier. It’s not uncommon in the rainy season. Ground units in the area report nothing from the Clanless territory.”

War’s mind returned to the possibility of sabotage as the reports continued until finished. There were some things to investigate, but nothing immediately threatening. However, the unsettling thought that their defenses were compromised kept returning. Yet, what could he do if he didn’t know where? One wrong decision could weaken a place the Xaltan could exploit.

Mental warfare… He returned the radio to his belt strap and clasped his hands behind his back on his path down the hill to the lake.

They’re not taking overt action but poking at places with subtle tactics to misdirect our attention. Either the Gray Coven is compromised as a whole or aren’t at this point. The issue is, they’re the only ones who can create the ritual needed to communicate with The Empress, and the rest of the Empire, which is a must. They’ve all had Roxim bodyguards, as well… 

Reaching the Roxim settlement with the gentle rain falling over him, War let the elements attack while observing the heightened alert from the ri’bot warriors as their citizens slept. The Roxim torlim riders were vigilant, their eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of threat.

His bright crimson irises drifted to the side as Fennel returned at the same time as him, seemingly coming from the Roxim’s other settlements not on the front line. “Any issues from the north?”

Fennel’s discolored, slick green skin gleamed to War’s darkness-piercing gaze. A low growl rumbled in the High Warrior’s mouth as fire sparked over his mystical ax, spinning it in a slow circle with agitation before holstering it on his approach.

“Less true warriors than I anticipated from the proxy leaders, and a lower standard for trained torlim than last season. The spotters on the northern mesa reported the Clanless being more active than usual, possibly a coalition of sorts at the quen’talrat Black Mines. Other than that, around five hundred more Young Bloods and retired warriors picked up the ax.”

Not particularly anything worth War’s notice. Although, Valentina had been given the task of rallying the Clanless to join The Empress, so perhaps she was making progress.

“Five hundred young for any manual labor needed and some older administration officers could lighten the burden and give us more eyes… Fennel, wake the Chief. Something is happening,” he muttered, looking up at the gloomy night sky as lightning flashed across the clouds, lighting up the heavens.

Fennel’s eyes narrowed. “Should I call the generals and set the forces for active combat rather than alert?”

War thought about it for a moment and shook his head. “We need everyone to be rested and ready for a major attack, and I don’t have any solid evidence yet… It’s better he knows now rather than later, though.”

The High Warrior left without a word, and War glanced left, spotting the first witch group of three as Zara, Olivia, and Sofia together; it seemed the young teen managed to weasel her way out of sleep or just couldn’t with everything happening, which he could understand.

Then again, it was a strange combination—a fourteen, sixteen, and eighteen-year-old together—but upon further inquiry, he learned that they were sent to keep total watch on this ritual communication device inside the camp.

He watched them move with purpose upon breaking away, wearing their ponchos and huddling close to one another in the downpour, their steps quick and deliberate.

I suppose it makes sense to group them since they were in totally different places for the most part yesterday. Zara was making her charm, Olivia was in the last group that was in charge of overseeing the broken ritual, and Sofia was in the group after it was discovered broken. However, all of them aren’t skilled enough to do much but maintain a ritual, and if they break this one, then we’ll have confirmation.

War felt the familiar burn of anticipation in his veins as the bloodlust within him roared for a real fight, a pyroclastic flow ready to erupt from his two-handed blade. This was his element, the chaos of war, the dance of strategy and strength. War thrived in it, even as he recognized the danger that loomed on the horizon, he was ready to brawl.

His smile rose as Chief Zargoth exited his hut, a warrior’s favor following him with the vibe he sent to his men around the settlement.

Conflict…change… I could care less if I lose this battle because losing a battle isn’t losing the war. War is the force that moves nations and topples empires. What fun has the Xaltan, Jennifer, and Shade cooked up for me? 

Informing the chief of what was happening in the background, the leader sent his men to sleep in shifts at their battle locations. The drummers were ready to alert the population at a moment’s notice. It didn’t take long before the rain lifted, leaving a low mist that would be swept away by morning. Yet, not a whisper came from across the river.

His illuminated eyes remained fixed on the vast river, kilometers across as the night air carried whispers of tension and anticipation. The Roxim torlim riders maintained their vigilant patrols, their bodies moving with a silent grace that belied the chaos simmering beneath the surface.

The jungle, alive with its own rhythm, held its breath as if waiting for the first note of an impending symphony of conflict. He’d been on the side of was now becoming more noticeable, something most seasoned soldiers would recognize—the impending dread of a slaughter.

The only question is, Red mused to himself, is the slaughter for us or them? Whatever the case, I can feel the heat on the back of my neck… It’s close.

As the first hints of dawn brushed the horizon with pale strokes of light, Rylee approached him, her movements steady despite the weariness etched on her features. The Gray Witch had been working tirelessly, orchestrating the witches to restore the ritual and ensure the camp's defenses were impregnable.

“Everything’s in order,” Rylee reported, her voice a calm anchor in the midst of uncertainty. “The ritual is up, and the communication grid is stable. We haven’t heard from the Empress, but I’m confident she’ll return soon from the earlier report, if not already arrived.”

War nodded, his gaze shifting to the horizon where the sun began its ascent, casting long shadows that stretched across the land. “Good. The Empress should be back by now. At this distance, I can’t tell through the Nexus, but soon… Keep everyone alert. I don’t trust this quiet.”

Rylee hesitated, her sharp green eyes meeting his. “Do you think it was sabotage? The witches would never—”

“It’s not about trust,” War interrupted, his voice firm and his smile wide. “To put it bluntly, we’ve been outplayed. I just need to see how. If it wasn’t you or your witches, then someone else knows how to disrupt the ritual. Perhaps Shade. Leave the Roxim warriors defending the ritual sites and bring them here for safety. We’ve done everything we—”

Before Rylee could respond, the radio on War’s belt went off, and Chief Zargoth echoed its report, his voice booming from behind them. “Movement across the river. They’re preparing the boats for attack!”

War’s mind raced, feeling the torturous pain in his chest as the pieces of the puzzle refused to fit together. If the witches didn’t sabotage the ritual, who did? The knowledge required to disrupt such a delicate process without notice is beyond most, yet someone did it. Wait…

Eyes widening, he cast his gaze to the west at the high mesa cutting a knife through the valley. That report of ship movements… It came from the river team. The slaughter, the failing bloodlust of the Roxim warriors… Not failing, disappearing.

He lifted the radio to his mouth, Zargoth and Fennel catching his expression and rushing over as he shouted, “Mesa Lookout Teams, report.”

The response was swift. “Movement across the river!” Yet, now that he was focused on the voice, it didn’t sound like anyone from the previous reports.

“Name and rank,” War demanded, excited rather than angry as the pieces finally fit into place. The line went silent—a chilling confirmation that the mesa was compromised. But when?

Rylee’s face went ashen and she took off at a sprint toward the jungle, no doubt realizing the truth. As he turned to inform the chief, he spotted Zara jogging toward him, her expression one of excitement and urgency. Then, it struck him.

“War!” she yelled past the shouts and calls as instructions were sent to the drummers to convey the chief’s orders. “War, I went to the bathroom, and—and when I got back, Sofia and my sister said The Empress is back and she wanted to talk to you! They said she just called!”

How did the Xaltan dismantle or bypass every ritual alarm Rylee’s coven set…when she said everything was perfect? How many of them are compromised? We’ve already lost.

“War?” Zara panted, the sixteen-year-old following his gaze to the mesa, where Red felt a total lack of its former bloodlust. “What’s wrong? The Empress, she…”

Instincts flaring, a smirk lifted his lips and he held up a hand to stop her. “Zara, go into hiding. Now. Alone.”

The confusion in her eyes was palpable, but she nodded, understanding the gravity in his voice. “W-What about my big sister and Sofia?”

War rubbed his chin, calculating the odds and tactics the Xaltan had employed as he thought of the two young witches. “I’ll give them the same order as I gave to you, and don’t come out for anything until The Empress sends someone. At least one person needs to make it out alive to report what happened—go.”

A shadow passed over Zara’s face, a mix of fear and uncertainty in leaving her sister. “But…no, I trust you, War. I have faith in The Empress, even if we die!”

“Don’t welcome your grave yet, kid. Survive,” War replied, his voice a low rumble while rubbing her head and sending her off. “Take whoever you can…they’re coming. Again, don’t come out for anything, even your sister. Stay hidden.”

Zara nodded, her small form disappearing into the crowd of organizing ri’bot. As she vanished, War turned to see Olivia and Sofia approaching with Chief Zargoth landing beside him, their expressions mixed with confusion and excitement.

Zargath’s narrowed eyes were on him. “I heard The Empress has returned?”

“That’s what they said,” he mumbled, giving him a firm “but I want you to deliver a message to your people… Do not resist. We’ve already lost.”

He exchanged a look with Zargoth, the chief’s nose creasing while piecing together everything they’d talked about throughout the night.

“War, we need you in the communication tent,” Sofia cried, huffing and puffing with Olivia beside her. “T-There’s an urgent message from the Wixum Lake—The Empress! She said she needs you and Chief Zargoth!”

“Wait…where’s Zara?” Olivia asked, glancing around at the citizens going into underground shelters and northward to the nearby settlements. “I told her to tell you first…”

Zargoth glanced between the two totally normal girls. Understanding the possible implication of a trap, War was impressed as Zargoth ran the calculations in seconds before responding. “I’ll give Fennel the order… I’ll meet you there.”

War was slightly surprised as Sofia and Olivia didn’t so much as make a fuss at Zargoth being late, more concerned about where Zara had gone and if she’d gotten lost in the crowd when a battle was about to start. He comforted them, saying he’d sent her on another errand, sparking conversation between the fourteen and eighteen-year-old. 

He studied their behavior on the way, less concerned about what was coming and more interested in the power that had caught him off-guard.

If this is mind control, it’s so far advanced that it could topple entire empires with how subtle it is… Not one person realized it, and none of us would have noticed if not for the sabotage being discovered, which means they hadn’t gotten full control over the coven last night… Okay, trip your trap. Let me see the trick.

They made their way to the tent, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. The jungle around them seemed to pulse with life as the ri’bot made battle preparations. He awaited the thrilling moment; he was War, so why would he fear conflict or death? War always returned, and what better way than to inform his Empress something happened.

Olivia was the first inside, pulling back the tent flap. The inside was lined with ritualistic symbols and additions. As War entered, the older sister motioned to the animal skull that acted as the speaker and receiver.

“Sofia and I will start it up—Sofie!”

“Sorry, I’m coming—I’ve only done this a few times.” Breathing out a long sigh, she looked nervous while bending down on the opposite side. “Here we go…everything we’ve prepared for.”

Olivia’s face turned sharp with focus as Sofia mirrored her words, resonating with her magic. The ritual seal flared to life all around them, Red’s teeth flashing as sticky spider’s thread snaked around his frame, locking his feet in place first to rise up to his chest and around his throat.

“By the elements of earth and water, we call upon the ancient darkness within the planet—the benefactor of our mistress—that is vast and scattered. Unite the strong silk of otherworldly properties and bind this warrior in a cocoon prison, shrouded in thy abyss!”

Red stood tall and resolute, his hands held behind his back while observing and studying every aspect of the trap the Xaltan set. And, at this point, Jennifer was all but guaranteed.

Sofia poured a silvery liquid onto the ground at War’s feet, and it spread like liquid fire up the thread-like bindings, tracing the salt lines on the tent and igniting them in a brilliant blaze that destroyed the covering. The light danced and flickered, casting long shadows that writhed and twisted like living things.

Olivia and Sofia’s voices spoke in unison, blending in a rhythmic chant as they looked at him with such venom that he might as well be Shade himself.

“By sacrificial life from ritual transference, we sacrifice the souls of five for five chains, lives willingly given. By blood and bone, by flesh and spirit, let the ties that bind be strong and unbroken. Anchor him in the here and now in the shadows of the powerful silk of monsters’ past.”

The tent scattered and destroyed, War could do nothing but stand and watch as the Xaltan elite force slipped out of shadows, wielding thread-like steel to bind the shocked warriors, and struck with a precision and ferocity that spoke of meticulous planning with prepared targets.

War’s muscles coiled, the chains around him tightening as he tested their strength. Zargoth’s roar in the distance, and he saw him battling four of the shadowy ri’bot at once, his fire eating through their silky ropes.

It wasn’t long before he was overwhelmed, Fennel falling into a web of silk just before his chief, their defiance echoing in the confined space, the chief’s fiery nature undiminished even in captivity. Of course, he was merely drawing their attention to hopefully allow anyone else to escape, but Red doubted that was possible after such careful planning. It wasn’t long until the orchestrator behind this assault made her way into the camp, the citizens being herded like cattle.

Oliva and Sofia were sweating, barely able to keep their eyes open as the seal settled around him. The eighteen-year-old’s nose twitched with hatred. “Wherever you hid my sister, traitor…I’ll find her.”

War’s smile didn’t diminish as she collapsed and the brown-haired manipulator walked right up to him, her smile gloating. Her voice was filled with mirth while circling him like a shark. “The great War, fashioned after the very personification of the word for his empress’ needs, bound and brought low by teenage girls.”

“How did you do it?” War asked, spotting similar rituals binding other warriors across the settlement from hidden rituals the Gray Coven had made. Already, the Xaltan were spreading the mark of the Scarlet Hand across the settlement. “When did you get to them? Back on Earth?”

Jennifer’s sky-blue eyes drifted to Sofia as she pulled back her ratty hair and knelt to pull back the fourteen-year-old girl’s tank top to show a red handprint beneath it, burned into her flash as if done by an iron.

“No one suspects the little girl who wanders away, trying to be useful to the big sisters she looks up to… The child with no experience. They’re true believers, which makes manipulating their minds easy.”

Heart and pride clashed within War, yet a snap within him halted all thought within his mind. Jennifer giggled, stepping closer to study him like a specimen. “Let me guess, Butter’s phylactery just shattered, and your Nexus is unstable… Your Empress has no idea what is happening. I had to time this very precisely. Take that as a compliment because you’re far too dangerous to be left unbound.”

War laughed, his heart free and realizing the full extent of her plan; he’d been right to surrender. The counter attack was already in motion because he could feel it now with the unstable Nexus; his Empress was growing stronger, and likewise, so was he.

“You intend to keep me alive so My Empress stays in the dark… Your mistake,” he grinned, his crimson eyes burning her face into his mind. “Take me away.”

“I’m sure. Keep struggling, but those threads are far beyond your ability to break, and your own little witches will strengthen it soon enough.”

A warrior’s rage welled up within him as he saw Rylee and the other tired witches meet Jennifer with respect; she was impersonating Elinor herself to them. Yet, all War felt was thankful, for nothing felt better than battling against impossible odds. For War, this was the essence of existence—the challenge, the struggle, the fight that defined him.

Prisoner today… A king of slaughter tonight. Placed on a cart to be wheeled onto the boats that would ferry the Roxim citizens back to Xaltan territory, War gave the enraged chief a look that told him to be patient. Bide your time, Friend… Tonight, we feast.

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