"You are allowed to enter," a familiar, self-confident voice called.
Crownwell opened the golden door and entered; his eyes immediately wandered through the room and landed on the platinum-haired man sitting behind a desk. He held a book in his left hand, and his armoured right hand rested on the table.
Crownwell stopped in the middle of the room, not daring to go further or say a word. He waited patiently until Superion finally gestured with his hand, allowing him to speak.
Crownwell didn't hesitate to tell him what he wanted to hear. "I was successful, your Majesty."
Superion finally averted his gaze from his book and eyed the man reporting to him. One of his eyebrows was raised when he spoke. "You got the sceptre?" His eyes fell on the long wooden box Crownwell was holding. A large amount of interest could be seen in his eyes and heard in his voice.
Crownwell nodded and stepped closer when Superion signalized him to do so. He put the box on the desk before Superion and removed the top. The handsome man stood up from his chair and bent over his desk regarding the item inside the box. Crownwell could swear that Superion's eyes were sparkling with desire for a short moment.
Superion carefully took the mysterious item out of the box and regarded it up close, admiring the runes engraved in the greenish material. The artefact radiated enormous power, so immense that anyone in the range of at least three hundred feet would be able to sense it. Due to the orange gems built into the walls, no one outside the room could do so. There was a specific look in his eyes as he regarded the artefact. A look Crownwell could not interpret. He was sure about one thing: Superion was more than happy to have the artefact.
"You made sure that no one saw you entering Tenaria. No one knows you are back in Umbral, right?" the platinum-haired man asked.
"I know how to disguise myself. I made sure no one could recognize me."
"I do recognize you right now. You do realize that, don't you?" Superion asked; a brow was raised, and his head was slightly tilted.
Crownwell opened the shoulder bag hanging from his left shoulder and partly pulled out a brown hooded cloak. "I got everything in my bag if you want to see that I'm speaking the truth."
"I do," Superion replied; his facial expression told Crownwell that he was unimpressed.
Crownwell didn't hesitate to take out everything in his bag and put it on. With his hooded cloak and mask, no one could recognize him except for his voice.
"You could also remove your helmet; no one would have recognized you. You wear Vanguard armour, and you do not show your face to anyone," Superion replied, sounding almost lecturing.
"Maybe, but I prefer to wear this helmet. You know exactly why I do it."
"I do indeed. Although, I know your caution is unnecessary. It's doubtful Featherwind will recognize you. Neither would his daughter."
"I prefer caution over uncertainty."
"Do as you please; it's your loss. I assume no one is aware you brought the sceptre to Umbral, to me to be exact," Superion said to the armoured man.
Crownwell nodded. "The box suppresses any auras of its content. No one knows I retrieved the Sceptre of the Ancients. No one except for you."
"And it shall stay this way."
Crownwell nodded. "My lips are sealed."
A small smile appeared on Superion's lips. "Good." He regarded the sceptre much longer, eventually looking back at his subordinate. "What happened to your group?"
Crownwell hesitated for a moment. "Parcu is dead. His death was a necessary sacrifice to get the sceptre. He was the only one skilled enough to steal it without being seen. And I ensured no one else saw us when I took it from him. No Yxal and no members of my group saw what happened."
"Parcu was neither a Keristian nor an Anxoyal; his death is insignificant. He was an outsider with no family and friends; no one will mourn him."
"He was a Shadowlith; his people are neither enemies nor allies. The Shadowlith are not as bad as often misrepresented."
"They still use dark magic, and using that kind of magic never produces anything good. There is a reason why it is forbidden for Keristians and Anxoyals."
"Nevertheless, he was not a bad person."
"Whether he was nor wasn't doesn't matter anymore. He was a necessary sacrifice. His death had a purpose."
Crownwell chose to remain silent, not knowing what to say in return.
"What about the others?" Superion asked.
"The Yxals have them. I don't know if they kept them alive," Crownwell answered curtly. "I left the group behind as soon as I got the artefact."
"And you are certain none of them saw you killing Parcu? No one can accuse you if they should return to Umbral?"
Crownwell hesitated for a moment. "I'm certain."
Superion raised an eyebrow; suspicion appeared on his finely chiselled facial features. "You sound less confident than before," he stated.
Crownwell exhaled. "It was pretty dark. I didn't see anyone around me, but I can't rule it out."
Superion shook his head; a disappointed look could be seen on his face. "I don't like the sound of that."
"The others are either dead or the Yxals have them, which means the chances are pretty high they die sooner or later," Crownwell responded. "I doubt they will return to Tenaria unless we free them."
Superion got up from his chair and walked over to the sergeant. "I have to lead a mission to look for the sceptre and any survivors. We cannot allow any group member to return and tell the Nine what you did. Nor must they find out I have the sceptre in my possession." He got dangerously close to Crownwell, who immediately lowered his gaze and looked at his feet. "What do you want me to do?"
A mischievous grin appeared on Superion's lips. "You know exactly what I want from you."
Crownwell nodded. "Consider it done."
Superion came closer again, putting a hand on Crownwell's left shoulder. His grip was firm; his face was dangerously close to Crownwell's head. "Do not disappoint me."
"I won't," Crownwell replied, not sounding as confident as he wanted to. Fortunately, Superion didn't say anything about it.
"You are dismissed," the handsome man said as he turned around and returned to his desk. Crownwell didn't hesitate to leave the room, still wearing his disguise.
---
"I need to bind your hands again," Cruxia said to Celeste as she averted her gaze from the large circular settlement two miles ahead.
"Is that really necessary?" Celeste asked.
"They won't believe you are my prisoner if I do not tie your hands at least. I spared you so far, but now it's necessary."
Celeste sighed annoyedly. "Fine." She held up her wrists together, watching as Cruxia tied them together with a thick leather rope. It was not the first time the Yxal had tied her, and she had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.
"Believe me or not, I do not enjoy keeping you tied up, but it's for your safety and mine," Cruxia responded.
"Whatever you say," Celeste muttered.
"No time to dawdle. Jeekalan is within our reach. Let's get there before any of our pursuers might catch up to us."
Celeste said nothing; she silently followed the other woman, knowing running away was pointless. She was feeling much stronger now than a few days ago. Nevertheless, she was still unable to summon her wings. She couldn't explain why. She had tried it, but it hadn't worked so far. She had hoped she could get away before they reached the settlement. Escaping a guarded settlement would be much more complicated than getting away from only one Yxal.
They reached the settlement after roughly half an hour. It was much larger than the settlement of Cruxia's late clan. On the walls, which were made of stone and not wood, stood many guards. Celeste could even spot small towers, four in total, behind which battlement archers were standing.
Her gaze fell on the guards in front of the massive gate. The Yxals looked different from those of Cruxia's clan. The members of her clan were tall and skinny, while these Yxals were smaller but sturdier. More muscular, to be exact. Some guards had exposed muscular upper arms much thicker than Cruxia's. To Celeste, Cruxia looked like a mix between the two clans. She was smaller but more muscular than members of the Gore-Eater Clan and taller but slimmer than the members of the Deathchanter clan. Celeste was wondering if that was just a coincidence.
Cruxia put a hand on Celeste's shoulder; her grip was firm as she dragged her over to the gate.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" one of the guards asked in Dragda, his native language.
"I'm Cruxia Carnagevez of the Gore-Eater Clan. I'm here to see my aunt." A stern expression decorated her face. There was no point in lying about her identity since she believed her best chance was to get inside the settlement due to her kinship with her aunt.
"I heard the Gore-Eater Clan is gone, and all of its members were slaughtered," the guard replied. His skin was beige, and the pupils of his eyes were green. The colour of the sclera was the same as all the other Yxal Celeste had seen so far. It seemed that black sclerae was a common trait among the Yxals. His face wasn't monstrous, just like Cruxia's and the other present Yxals.
Like his comrades, only his torso armour was made of metal; the rest of their bodies were covered by leather. Their bodies were not as well protected as Cruxia's. Celeste didn't know much about this clan, so she could only assume that this clan didn't have as many ores available as the Gore-Eater Clan once had.
"Not all of them," Cruxia said. "I survived."
"And how do I know you are telling the truth?" the guard asked.
"My aunt can confirm I am not lying."
"And who is your aunt? I don't remember any Gore-Eaters living with us."
"My mother was born in Jeekalan, and so was her sister. Her name is Chesa Desmora, better known as Chesa the Fierce. I believe she still lives here," Cruxia answered.
Celeste had no idea what they had been discussing and why he was regarding Cruxia from head to toe. To her, it almost appeared as if he was checking her out.
She was not sure if she wanted Cruxia to succeed in bringing her into the settlement or not. They might be safe from the eastern clans, but she was still not in safe hands. She would still be Cruxia's prisoner. She almost hoped they wouldn't let them in. Cruxia would have to look for another clan, so they would have to travel again. In the meantime, she might be able to retain enough strength to summon her wings.
She was uncertain if she could do anything in her situation that would upset the guards. Even if her hands were not tied, an attack on them would be more likely to lead to her death than to deny Cruxia and her entry. She had no choice but to play along.
"Do you have any other proof that you are who you say?" the guard asked.
Cruxia opened her bag after taking it off her shoulders and pulled out a necklace. Two rows of sharp teeth were engraved in the golden coin that was part of the necklace. It was the symbol of her late clan. The guard snatched it out of her hand and regarded it closely. "You could have picked it up from any of the deceased Gore-Eaters. This proves nothing. You could belong to one of three clans that attacked the Gore-Eater clan."
It took Cruxia a lot of effort not to roll her eyes at the guard. "Do I look like a Man-Eater, Bonebreaker or Skullcrusher Clan member?"
"Honestly, I never met members of the Man-Eater or Bonebreaker Clan. I only know what members of the Skullcrusher Clan look like."
"Will you just send for my aunt? She can confirm I'm speaking the truth." Cruxia's tone was neutral; she didn't want to sound pleading or begging. She couldn't allow herself to show weakness and give the guard any opportunity to take advantage of her.
"And why would I do that?" he asked, slowly pronouncing the words.
"You can keep the necklace if you do so; it's real gold," Cruxia lied. It was bronze and only coloured in gold. The guard regarded it and handed it over to one of his comrades. "Very well," he said to Cruxia before he turned to a female guard and told her to look for Chesa the Fierce.
Cruxia had to wait for nearly two hours till she finally arrived. She recognized her by her facial features, which had become more wrinkled since the last time she had seen her. Her once pure ocean-blue hair had many grey strands.
Celeste, who saw that woman for the first time, could recognize the similarities between Cruxia and the strange woman, so she assumed she must be the aunt Cruxia had told her about. They had the same eyes and the same nose. Even the curves of their horns were similar. The woman's horns were a bit smaller, but they were also bent forward. Like all guards, the woman was shorter than Cruxia. She was almost a whole head shorter, to be exact. Celeste estimated that the woman was about her own height.
The Anxoyal watched the woman exchange a few sentences with the guards and then with Cruxia before she turned her head and looked at her. The woman's piercing gaze fell on her and went from head to toe. She said something to Cruxia; the expression on the older woman's face told Celeste that she was not exactly happy. Nevertheless, the guards stepped aside after the woman had spoken to them and granted them entry.
Cruxia walked over to Celeste and put a hand on her shoulder. "Walk!" she ordered, dragging Celeste with her at first, but then she let go of her once she was sure the bleached black-haired woman followed her and the older woman who was guiding them through the gate and the street behind it.
Celeste didn't miss the disdainful looks she got from the settlement's inhabitants. She had gotten the same looks from the guards and every other Yxal she had met. The only exception was Cruxia, who didn't look at her with hatred, but she didn't give her sympathetic looks either.
They passed shops and smaller houses as they came to the end of the long street, which led to a vast square full of creatures. Celeste didn't need long to figure out that they had arrived at the settlement's marketplace. There were not only Yxals but also many other creatures that she had only ever seen in books.
She saw creatures with red skin and long pointed ears, even longer than Yxal ears. She saw creatures about as tall as Cruxia with dark purple skin, short but pointed ears and even darker eyes. They wore long, dark robes with hoods pulled low over their faces. It seemed they were trying to protect themselves from the sun, which was much more intense in this place than in Tenaria.
But the Anxoyal didn't see only tall creatures. There were small creatures that were less than two feet tall and had bald heads with ugly, wrinkled faces and malicious eyes. Most foreign creatures were trying to sell their wares, but some were even buying stuff. Most creatures were minding their business; only some gave her malicious gazes.
"Stop dawdling," Cruxia hissed, putting a hand on her shoulder and dragging her along until they reached the northern end of the market.
They followed a curved road to the northwest, meeting more Yxals and foreign creatures walking past them. As expected, none of them were happy to see Celeste. After a long walk, they finally stopped in front of a house that was bigger than the others in the same alley. Like the others, it was made of stone, unlike most buildings in the Gore-Eater settlement, which had been made of wood.
Cruxia waited until her aunt unlocked and opened the door, shoving Celeste through it. The walls of the hallway immediately caught Cruxia's and Celeste's eye. They were decorated with skulls and bones, just like the walls in Cruxia's late father's house. Celeste had only been inside two Yxal houses so far, excluding the prison she was held in, and both were decorated with trophies of slain creatures. She wondered if this was pure coincidence or if it was typical for Yxals to decorate their houses with collected trophies. She didn't care about finding out since she hoped she wouldn't have to stay with the Yxals for too long.
Chesa guided them out of the hallway to a room that appeared to be the living room. The quality of the furniture was not as good as Tenarian furniture, but it was good enough to serve their purpose. There was a table with four chairs, cupboards, bookshelves to the left and a settee on the opposite side.
On the settee sat a woman much younger than Chesa. It was hard to tell, but Cruxia assumed the woman was about her age. She could be wrong because Yxals could get much older than other races. Between two and three hundred years was possible with the help of magic or certain herbs and substances. The woman could be over one hundred years old or thirty; it was impossible to judge by her mere appearance. Nevertheless, something told her that the woman must be around her age. Sixty to Seventy was her guess.
Chesa sat beside her, touching the woman's slightly shaking knee. The touch took away the woman's nervousness and relaxed her. Chesa's look lingered on the woman for a few more moments before it wandered to Cruxia; softness and tenderness were replaced by expectation.
"You may want to take a seat," Chesa said to Cruxia in Dragda. She waited till Cruxia had done that and then continued. "About your pet..."
"She is not my pet," Cruxia interfered.
"What is she then?" the older woman asked, her eyes landing on the leather straps that bound Celeste's hands together.
"My prisoner. I freed her, and before I fled Narvashok. I assume you have heard what happened," Cruxia replied; the sadness in her eyes was clearly visible to Chesa.
The blue-grey-haired woman nodded. "I do. It's a tragedy. As bad as this sounds, what happened doesn't surprise me. Your father has constantly been toying with power he didn't understand. He survived longer than I expected; I give him that. I knew his days were numbered when he entered the Sinister Sin of Greed's services.
I thought the Anxoyals killed him during the Battle for Seraph's Wrath when Superion slew Geld the Greedy, Chosen of the Sinister Sin of Greed and Elequa Solarius, Chosen of the Sinister Sin of Pride. Your father fought by Geld's side until Superion's sword, Purity's Embrace, cut Geld in halves. Your father fled the battle when he saw his master's Chosen fall. He hid for years before he returned to Narvashok, serving under his father again. When his father died, he took over the clan and ruled it for eighty years. His greed for power got the better of him and, eventually, sealed his fate."
"I know my father wasn't a good person...But...he was still my father...I do not mourn his loss like others would...But still... I can't let his murderers go unpunished...," Cruxia replied, her voice quieter than she had intended to.
"Don't tell me you're out for revenge?" Chesa leaned forward, tilted her head, and raised one of her eyebrows. She looked questioningly at her niece.
Cruxia remained silent, her gaze wandering to her aunt's hand, which still rested on the other woman's knee. Then, her gaze wandered back to her aunt.
She hadn't asked herself that question yet. She hated the remaining eastern clans for what they did to her clan. They didn't just kill her father, who was solely responsible for the annihilation of the Corpse-Speaker Clan. He sent his best warriors out to retrieve the Sceptre of the Ancients and led the attack on the clan. Those with them followed their orders, knowing better than contradicting their warlord. They just did as they were told to, but the three clans slaughtered them nevertheless.
She hated the eastern clans, but she could do nothing about them. She was hiding behind the walls of another clan. It was unlikely the eastern clan would attack this settlement, but they were still out there, looking for an opportunity to snatch her if she ever left the settlement. She had no choice but to stay here for her own safety. And there was nothing she could do to avenge her fallen brethren.
"There is nothing you can do in your situation," Chesa said as if she had read Cruxia's mind.
The light-purple-haired woman sighed. "I know that."
"What is your plan then?" her aunt asked.
"For now? Hoping I'm allowed to stay until the eastern clans forget about me."
"I might be the advisor to the Clan's Warlords, but I cannot guarantee you will be allowed to stay. I need to convince them," her aunt explained.
"The clans would never dare to attack his settlement unless they are eager to die. Jeekalan is too well fortified. The eastern clans have a lot of warriors, but their combined numbers shouldn't be enough to pose a serious threat to your clan," Cruxia replied.
"And how do you know how many warriors they have?" the woman next to Chesa asked curiously. It was her first time speaking since Cruxia's and Celeste's arrival. Chesa 's gaze fell on her; a smile could be seen on her lips as she patted her thigh softly. "I got this sweety; let Mommy handle this."
"Mommy? Is that your daughter?" the taller Yxal asked. She didn't remember Chesa having any children, and since she expected the woman to be about her age, she could only guess Chesa adopted her.
Soft laughter escaped the older woman's lips as she turned back from the red-head to Cruxia. "No, Nyxara is not my daughter. She is my beloved," Chesa replied, running her fingers through Nyxara's crimson hair.
Surprise decorated Cruxia's face. "What about Uncle Theodar? I thought you loved him. Did you break up?"
"We are still married. We are just less committed to our marriage than others. I married him out of duty to my clan to make peace with the Painseeker Clan. We are still together, and we still love each other, but we do seek the pleasure of others, and we are both okay with that."
Cruxia regarded the women for a few moments. "You do make a lovely couple but also an odd one," she responded.
"You mean because I'm much older than Nyxara? We are both adults, so I don't see a problem with the age difference. You seem to forget that my clan can get up to two hundred and ten years old. Sadly, we lost a lot of people in wars and conflicts. The younger, less experienced people are usually the ones who are most likely to die. These days, it is hard to meet people my age because we don't have many people who are as lucky as I am left. However, in my case, luck didn't play a role. My guts, my survival skills and my strength kept me alive. Not to mention that Shyvara always keeps an eye on me. They didn't want me to leave this world yet."
"I'm unsure if your Goddess has something to do with that."
"God," corrected Nyxara. "Shyvara is neither a man nor a woman. They are more than that."
"I didn't come here to discuss Deities and religions with you. I'm here to seek refuge," responded Cruxia, changing the subject.
"As I said before, I need to speak to the warlords," Chesa replied.
Cruxia nodded. "Thank you. I owe you."
Chesa chuckled. "Don't thank me yet. I haven't convinced them yet."
"Still, you are willing to help without wanting anything in return. You are the only one I know who is not selfish."
The older woman smiled at her. "You are family. Of course I will help where I can." Her gaze wandered over to Celeste, who had been standing beside the settee the whole time since she hadn't dared risk the Yxal's anger by sitting down without permission. Chesa stood up and walked over to her, grabbing her chin and turning her head to get a better look at her. "I must say your pet is beautiful for a Tenarian."
"She is not my pet," Cruxia reminded her, annoyed.
"Your prisoner then." Chesa eyed Celeste closely. "Why did you take the trouble to bring her to us?"
"I didn't want her to fall in the hands of my enemies; I didn't want to allow them to gain any useful information from the poultry."
"Poultry? Don't tell me that this one is an Anxoyal?" The look on Cruxia's face was enough to answer Chesa's question. "This makes her even more valuable."
"You want to hand her over to the warlords, right?" Cruxia asked.
"She might be the key to you being allowed to stay. It will be easier to persuade the warlords if you have such a valuable gift for them."
Cruxia's gaze fell on Celeste, then went back to her aunt. "Perhaps..."
"Is something wrong?" Chesa asked, an eyebrow raised,
Cruxia hesitated. "Everything is alright," she lied.
Her aunt regarded her suspiciously but didn't press further. "If you say so." Her gaze went to the window, and so did Cruxia's. "It's getting dark outside. We will meet the warlords tomorrow. You can stay in the guest room."
"What about her?" the taller Yxal asked, pointing at Celeste.
"You are my guest; she is not. It is up to you if you want her to stay with you. The guest room has a second bed; I recommend you tie her to bed so she won't try anything. But before you go to bed, do me a favour and bathe. The poultry should do the same. Not only are you dirty, but you and your clothes are also reeking. I have fresh clothes for you and even for her. I'm willing to grant her this decency."
"I will do as you say."
"It is up to you if you watch her bathing or not. A dead prisoner is a useless prisoner. It's not the first time a Tenarian prisoner chose death over living as a prisoner. She won't give us any useful information if she drowns herself."
Cruxia sighed. "I hate to say this, but you have a point."
"Before I forget. I may have something that helps us suppress her powers. We don't want her to fly away, do we?"
Cruxia shook her head. "She didn't summon her wings since we fled Narvashok; I assume she is still too weak to do it. Nevertheless, we do not want to give her that opportunity."
"We may not know much about the Anxoyals, but at least we know they use their given magic to summon those wings of theirs. She won't be able to do that if the handcuffs work as promised. Come to me once you have bathed and dressed."
"I will," Cruxia replied.
Chesa's gaze landed on Nyxara. "Will you guide them to their room, my love?"
"Of course," Nyxara answered and got up. She was about to turn around and walk away when Chesa grabbed her wrist. "You forgot something."
Nyxara blushed and turned back to her lover. "You are right; I'm sorry," she muttered before leaning in and kissing the older woman. Cruxia waited until they had finished tasting each other's lips and placed her hands on Celeste's shoulders, pushing her forward as she followed the other Yxal, leading her out of the living room through the door opposite the one they had first gone through.
She brought them to a much smaller room than the living room, which wasn't equipped with as much furniture. There were two beds with a bedside table opposite each other, a wardrobe and a table with a small mirror before the wall opposite the door. The bedclothes were red, the walls were grey and the floor was covered by red carpet. It was a solid guest room.
"The bathing room is right next to this room. It is best to knock first before you enter; sometimes the door lock doesn't close properly," Nyxara said. "There are clothes in the wardrobe, but I'm unsure if they suit you. You are much taller than most of our clan members. You should tell Chesa if they don't fit. I'm certain she can get some on the market."
"I will if that's the case," Cruxia replied.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked, pushing a strand of hair out of her pretty face.
"I'm good for now."
"Very well. If you need anything, just come to us."
"I will."
Nyxara nodded and turned around, leaving Cruxia and Celeste alone in the room.