"I will keep my oath at the price of my celestial freedom. May your word be as fixed as my sun in the firmament. To break an oath is to imitate the one I have chained."

  — Words of Solar?s, XII

  Revealed to Thérion the Veiled, Year 1 of the Endless Day

  The carriage crossed the East gates in a brutal jolt, its wheels passing from worn pavement to the cracked terrain of the outside in a sharp creak. For the first time, squadron VIII left Solheim behind and the city revealed its true grandeur: a colossal fortress with white stone ramparts that rose toward the heavens, impassable and majestic.

  When they found themselves a few kilometers away, the truth burst before the knights' eyes: the central tower, nicknamed the Index of Solar?s, fully deserved its name. Standing like a divine monolith, it seemed to be the very finger of the God of Suns, pointing with implacable majesty at the motionless star at its zenith. But it wasn't only the Index. Solheim, as a whole, revealed itself to be a marvel sculpted by superhuman power. Its immaculate ramparts and slender towers glittered under the eternal light, embodying the timeless glory of the last great city of Istalith, a brilliant testimony to the grandeur of the Ancient World.

  Before them opened a dying world—an infinite plain of black crevasses, like skin burst by dryness and burned under an oppressive furnace. The cracked ground extended as far as the eye could see, each gaping fissure like a wound in the dead earth. Waves of heat rose from the devastated terrain, distorting the horizon into trembling mirages.

  The Eternal Zenith, suspended in a firmament empty of any cloud, projected a white and cruel gleam that erased all shadow and assaulted gazes like incandescent metal. Under this pitiless sun, nothing lived: neither stunted tree, nor dried blade of grass, nor even an insect, only absolute desolation and a road paved by the Ancients that plunged into this void, sole witness of a bygone era.

  A dry breath moaned weakly across this dead expanse, carrying a scent of death mixed with salt and ashes that irritated the throat and weighed down the lungs. Dust reigned supreme, covering every stone, every crevasse, lifted in whirlwinds by the sterile wind. It spread like a sea of void quivering under heat illusions, each particle glittering like a fragment of whitened bone in the implacable brilliance of the eternal day.

  This cursed land contrasted violently with the protected life of Solheim, revealing what had become of the world beyond its walls: a desert of death where only the most daring ventured.

  "It's much worse than what we could read in our books," R?chard noted bitterly, breaking the calm that had settled since their departure from the capital. "They spoke to us of a dead land, not an open-air tomb. It looks like Solar?s himself has turned his back on this place. Not a soul, not a breath, nothing living here."

  In his deep voice, the Stoneskin replied while observing this landscape where life no longer had its place.

  "There is the price to pay for our salvation, my young friend. The children of the Sun can thus live..."

  "You mean rather survive," the Noohrikane cut him off.

  "But for how much longer?" Siegfried murmured to himself, his gaze lost in the immensity facing him before asking the coachman. "Is the whole kingdom as inert as what we can see here, sir?"

  Without releasing the reins, he turned slightly and replied in his calm and gentle voice, the words muffled by his large gray beard.

  "More or less, knight. Too few places are still livable in the lands of Istalith. Apart from the cities that survive thanks to the water of the Lake of Infinity and certain places spared by the Gods, you will find only a sterile world."

  "Does that mean you've already seen a tree or plants?" the archer questioned him from his seat. "Outside the capital I mean."

  The man returned his gaze to the road and released a rein to scratch his beard.

  "Trees outside the Upper City?" he thought aloud while continuing to scratch, which seemed to help him think. "The last time I went to the Oasis, there were some, but are there still? It's been far too long since I went there to tell the truth."

  "And monsters?"

  "Aaaaaah, as for seeing them, I've seen them, young knight. The only one I haven't had the misfortune to cross paths with since I've been traveling the kingdom's roads is the C?ndrav?rn."

  Surprised by what she had just heard, Mei finally spoke.

  "You're telling us that you've therefore already seen a Fourskull, sir?"

  "Yes, miss. And I can tell you that we feel more than small facing that thing."

  "And you're still alive?"

  "Oh, you know, I'm just a guide, not a fighter. But those who paid me to go slay that beast never came back," he said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

  "Do you know where to find it?" she asked him, intrigued.

  The elderly man took one of his flasks and drank an infinitesimal sip.

  "Of course I know. I know the kingdom like the back of my hand, miss. You all were still children when I'd already been traveling these roads for far too many suns."

  "Can we know where, coachman?" the Stoneskin questioned this time.

  "The old sage only reveals his secrets for a few coins, stone man."

  A gold coin struck with King Hagen the First in her beak, Feather landed delicately on the coachman's knees.

  "Tell me, I want to know everything!" young Desrosiers exclaimed, closing his purse.

  Smile on his lips, the old man took the coin and the discussion continued thus between questions and answers for kilometers, the vehicle jolting on this sterile expanse, its wheels moaning in a strident noise. The furnace stuck their clothes to their skin, drew beads of sweat that slid on their faces, leaving trails in the reddish dust.

  When the conversation with the coachman ended, a comfortable silence settled. R?chard, sitting across from Mei, scrutinized her with unusual intensity, as if holding back an avalanche of questions. His eyes went from the Noohrikane to Feather, then returned to her, his face betraying a devouring curiosity.

  Mei crossed his gaze and sketched a slight smile behind her mask.

  "What do you want to know, little curious one?"

  The young archer jumped slightly, caught in the act. He threw a quick glance at Siegfried and Juuh'ma, as if to ask permission, then launched in.

  "The Captain said he had sent elite warriors. Is your sister really that strong?"

  "If I told you I don't hold a candle to her, would that answer your question?"

  "Really, little shadow?" the Stoneskin asked, astonished.

  With a simple nod, he had his answer.

  "She must surely be class A, minimum," the young archer added without even letting the specter respond.

  "You know well though that as shadows of the King, we Noohrikane cannot be classified. Sara? is no exception."

  At these words, Siegfried, R?chard and Juuh'ma widened their eyes.

  "Wait. Wait. Wait. You're telling me you're the sister of the one who refused the King?"

  "Yes," she confirmed calmly.

  Arms crossed, the Vaan Hart's gaze became more intense on his specter, as if he had just understood something.

  "Woooooow," young Desrosiers marveled, his speech accelerating. "Tell me if I'm bothering you, okay? But I need to know if what they say about her is true!?"

  "I'll let you have only one question. You'll only be entitled to another if you manage to touch me during our next duel. Does that work for you?" she proposed, extending her hand.

  A deep laugh escaped from the Stoneskin.

  "You'd be crazy to accept, my young friend. You'll never touch her."

  "We'll see!"

  Without hesitating, R?chard shook her hand to seal the pact.

  "If I only have the right to one question then tell me if you know the reason for her refusal to be the Shadow of the Merciful?"

  Mei shook her head.

  "This is not entirely true."

  "How so?"

  "They say of her that she refused our King's request, but it's false. My sister posed certain demands to accept. Demands that Hagen III accepted."

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Negotiate with the King? Siegfried thought, raising an eyebrow.

  "What conditions?" R?chard questioned, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

  "Touch me at our next duel and you'll know," she retorted, taunting him.

  "I won't miss," he let out before lowering his head slightly, his tone becoming almost melancholic. "But if even she didn't succeed at this mission. How could we..."

  "We will succeed," his chief cut him off coldly with conviction, his so-green irises planted in those of his archer. "Whatever it costs us, we will succeed. Have faith in us."

  "Sieg is right," the specter added, nodding toward the paladin. "My sister may be the most talented in the kingdom but she's never known how to team up with anyone. Together, we are better. You can believe me."

  Returned to perch on her master's shoulder piece, Feather emitted small sharp sounds as if to approve, which made the boy smile before a long rumble suddenly pierced the motionless atmosphere of the arid expanse.

  Like a creature buried in the depths, the sound burst in a deep roar that made the ground tremble under their feet, followed by three brief and sharp blasts. The call came from Solheim, a brutal cry that froze the squadron in instinctive tension.

  The coachman pulled the reins in a brusque movement, his hardened hands trembling, stopping the vehicle in a cloud of dull dust that stung their eyes and irritated their throats.

  Siegfried, Juuh'ma, Mei and R?chard stiffened, their hands seizing their weapons in a soldiers' reflex, their gazes turning toward the horizon where Solheim stood in the distance, still visible but screaming under this unknown cry.

  As soon as the horn sounded, the paladin pivoted toward the archer.

  "R?chard, launch Feather. Tell her to scrutinize Solheim, see if a danger threatens the city! Quick!" he ordered in a dry and incisive tone, that of the chief.

  The boy nodded, seizing his raptor on his shoulder. After brief murmurs, the goldenbeak launched into the burning sky, her gray feathers glittering under the Zenith as she streaked into the distance.

  Calm returned, weighing like a suspended blade, when Juuh'ma turned toward Siegfried, his massive silhouette filling the vehicle's narrow space.

  "My brother, what must we do? The horn has spoken—Solheim calls us," he rumbled in his heavy voice that resonated in the cabin like an echo charged with urgency.

  The chief of squadron VIII didn't react immediately. He froze, his fingers clenched on his sword's pommel and scrutinized the desolate immensity as if he could read the horn's notes there. He took three deep breaths to calm the beats of his heart that had raced at the sound of the alert. A lesson his mentor had taught him: no good decision can be made when emotions take over reason.

  In an instant, the ambient heat gave way to the cold that flowed in his veins. He analyzed the two options: continue the mission or return to the capital. His reflection lasted no more than a blink. Solheim needed its warriors.

  He opened the door to leap out of the carriage, his boots striking the ground in a dull sound, followed by his squadron.

  "Can you return to Solheim with a single zu'hun, sir?" he called to the coachman.

  "Yes, knight. One will suffice. I'll return slowly but surely."

  Immediately, the Vaan Hart drew his sword in a sharp steel whistle to cut the ropes of the right steed with a precise gesture, the bindings snapping like broken bonds before falling in the dust. He jumped on its back, his boots sinking into the beast's massive flesh, and adjusted his turban to protect himself from the ardent breath.

  "Listen to me!" he commanded, turning toward his squadron. "We're abandoning Fort-Shadow for the moment. Solheim is our blood and we swore to protect it with our lives. That's exactly what we'll do. The plan is simple: I rush to HQ as quickly as possible, learn the details of this alert and know what threatens our walls. You, you recover your effects useful for combat and you march at a forced pace to the Index gates. There, you wait for me, vigilant, ready to hear what I bring back and to strike if the order falls. Don't waste time and run as if your life depended on it. I must know, and you must be there when I know. We are Solheim's backbone. If it bends, we straighten it. Did you hear?"

  The three warriors acquiesced.

  "May Solar?s see you!" he added with the authority and urgency of a chief facing the unknown.

  Before the squadron separated, a sharp cry was heard. Feather was already above their heads, circling in a rapid wingbeat. Delicately, she landed at her master's feet. The bird chirped, a clear and peaceful trill, making the archer frown.

  "It's weird. She says there's nothing, Sieg. No army, no smoke, not a shadow moving toward Solheim. The sky is empty there," he announced, perplexed.

  The paladin nodded, his eyes squinted through his turban that he tightened further.

  "The horn never sounds without reason. If she saw nothing, it's that the evil probably doesn't come from the plains," he said aloud. "The danger is elsewhere, somewhere in our kingdom. All the more reason to rush to Headquarters. We must know what's being plotted. Don't linger!"

  "Yes!" Juuh'ma, Mei and R?chard clamored in chorus, their silhouettes tense in cold discipline. The lightness of their discussion in the carriage having given way to martial rigor.

  The hairs of the black mane between his fingers, the knight leaned slightly toward his mount.

  "You're going to need your steps to be as fast as the wind, my friend," he whispered in the animal's ear before digging his heels into the zu'hun's flanks.

  The beast bounded forward in a rumble of raw power, its hooves tearing fragments of dry earth in a cloud of dull dust. The coachman cracked the reins on the other animal, the carriage slowly setting off toward Solheim in a creaking of wood.

  Juuh'ma grabbed his own bag, his chains clacking as he adjusted the weight on his shoulders. Mei seized hers, her movements precise and rapid while the archer ordered Feather to return as a sentinel to be their eyes in this burning sky. He hoisted his bow and bag while observing his goldenbeak moving away.

  As they launched toward the capital under the fire falling from the sky, in a line of soldiers running toward their duty, Siegfried, already in the distance, didn't turn around once.

  A few kilometers separated the vehicle from the East gates, a distance the paladin covered at a frantic pace, his teeth clenched while an idea resonated in his skull like a deep drum.

  I must hurry, Solheim is in danger! But where is the danger? If Feather saw nothing around the capital, why then the horn? Why this urgency?

  He shook his head. Too many questions. Not enough answers. HQ would tell him everything.

  The sentinels, perched on the heights, spotted the knight rushing toward them, and understood without Siegfried making them any sign that they had to open the door without further delay. They activated the chains with glacial precision, and the doors parted in a deep rumble, revealing the tumult of the Outskirts beyond.

  "LEAVE OPEN FOR MY SQUADRON!" he thundered, raising one of his hands.

  A guard, helmet tilted, responded from above.

  "At your orders, knight!" a guard shouted from the rampart, his ten fingers clenched on the chain. "We'll keep the gate open. Pass!"

  The zu'hun crossed the arch in a furious surge, its hooves hammering the pavement in a din that bounced against the ramparts. The great East boulevard deployed before him with at its end the stairs leading to the Upper City, in a maze of cracked slabs and collapsed small shops. The inhabitants scattered en masse in an uncontrolled crowd movement, like frightened silhouettes, their cries of distress piercing the air.

  Chaos reigned in the Outskirts. Women screaming, children crying, soldiers shouting orders. The acrid smell of fear saturated the air.

  Siegfried guided the beast through the disorder, dodging broken carts and groups of soldiers.

  "Clear the way!" he shouted, so loud that his cry cut through the hubbub.

  More than six kilometers separated the East gates from the Upper City, a journey demanding every effort from the creature. Although the knight felt his mount faltering at times, he also felt it giving everything, as if it understood the urgency of the situation or the words of the man riding it.

  The majestic stairs finally emerged, an imposing ascent carved in smooth stone where dozens of soldiers climbed hastily. Its entrance was flanked by guards in light breastplates, their lances raised like iron stakes, their faces tense under helmets gleaming with sweat. They crossed their weapons at his approach in an instinctive gesture, but identifying the solar paladin's sacred cloth floating in the wind, they raised them and stepped aside without a word, their boots striking the ground in a synchronized movement.

  The zu'hun climbed the steps in a hammering of hooves, each degree vibrating under its mass, the smooth stone sliding under its paws in a sharp creak. Siegfried held firm, his fingers clenched on the fur, his eyes riveted to the summit, his jerky breath vibrating in his chest.

  In a final effort, the steed climbed the steps until the Upper City spread before him. Here, no disorder. The nobles were already all sheltered and only soldiers or knights were found in the alleys.

  The knight guided the panting beast to the entrance of the Index of Solar?s where it collapsed in a cloud of dull dust, its flanks trembling in weak jolts, its eyes gleaming with exhaustion.

  While leaping from his mount, Siegfried removed his turban and went to kneel to place a hand on the animal's moist neck.

  "Thank you well my friend," he murmured to it. "You can rest now, you've done more than enough."

  A soldier in light breastplate approached, young, hands hesitant on his golden halberd, his eyes fixing on the knight covered in sweat and dust.

  "Please take great care of this beast, soldier. And bring it water," Siegfried ordered with a firm but calm voice, his gaze piercing the young man.

  "Yes, paladin!" he replied, nodding. "I'll take care of it right away, you can count on me!"

  While the soldier approached the zu'hun, Siegfried pivoted toward the colossal door that was wide open, crossed the hall with a resolute step, passing between the legs of Maharik's statue to descend the steps that led him to the Index's basement.

  Tumult reigned in this space. A crowd of guards bustled about, some carrying crates of weapons in a metallic tinkling, others shouting orders that vanished in the din, their hoarse timbres vibrating in the heavy atmosphere. A guard struck the knight without seeing him, his shoulder hitting the breastplate in a dull impact.

  "Get out of the way!" Siegfried roared, pushing him away with his hand.

  "Sorry, knight!" the guard mumbled, stepping back before vanishing into the crowd.

  The Vaan Hart advanced toward the crisis room at the back of the hall, his eyes sweeping the area. Before the massive doors, two N'zonki guards stood motionless.

  One of them sized him up, noticing the dust covering his armor.

  "Hurry, paladin. The crisis meeting is about to begin."

  Siegfried nodded and pushed the doors.

  All the squadron leaders of the Solar Guard and Golden Shields were already present. A tense calm reigned. No one spoke yet.

  At the center, a large dark wood table stood, its rough edges covered with deployed maps and crumpled parchments, surrounded by imposing figures. Captain Ardahm stood there, surrounded by his three lieutenants, hands clenched on the wood, his massive build casting a heavy shadow.

  Alessi Di Fiorenze, in strict tunic, adjusted a marker on a map, his dark eyes glittering under his gray locks.

  Dragar Bjornhold, chief of the Golden Lances, the exterior faction of Solheim, muttered in his shaggy beard falling on his chest. He was an aged warrior with a weathered face, a scar barring his left eye to his jaw like a deep gash. Two short axes hung against the flanks of his breastplate, a relic of battles led beyond the ramparts to protect the city's confines.

  Sel?s H?lw?nd, chief of the Sun Shields, protection faction of the Upper City and the Index of Solar?s stood facing him, tall and slender, her light white tabard adorned with subtle floral patterns in gold color glimmering faintly. A large black katana rested in its chiseled sheath at her hip, her long ashen gray hair framing a piercing gaze that seemed to scrutinize each threat weighing on the white towers and the sacred sanctuary she defended.

  In silence, the Vaan Hart approached, making his way among all the chiefs present to stop near a massive column. He leaned against it, resting his left hand on his weapon's pommel, observing the group. Motionless and concentrated, ready to listen to what would be said in this tense assembly.

  Suddenly, Captain Ardahm crushed his enormous fists against the wood in a dull impact that made maps and parchments jump and the meeting began.