As Alexander pulled Baron aside, they exited the throne room, the tension between them thickening. The grand marble halls echoed with the heavy footsteps of the Emperor's guard. Baron barely kept up, his body still aching from both his battle and Nero's punishment. When they reached a secluded corridor, Alexander suddenly grabbed Baron by the arm and pulled him into a shadowed alcove, away from the others.
"What the hell happened out there?" Alexander's voice was low, edged with something between frustration and disbelief.
Baron's breath was ragged, and he winced as Alexander's grip tightened on his wounded arm. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his failure pressing down on him.
"Answer me, Baron. You hesitated. That's not like you."
"What do you want me to say? That I lost? That I let a kid… a damn child… humiliate me?"
Alexander's single lava-colored eye glowed dimly under the torchlight. He studied Baron for a moment, then released him with a slight shove.
"You're lucky I was the one ordered to kill you. Anyone else would have finished the job."
"And what, you wouldn't?"
"No…" The answer was quiet, almost reluctant.
Baron stared at him, stunned. He had expected indifference, maybe even contempt. But Alexander's voice held something else. Something he couldn't quite place.
"Why?"
"You're asking dumb questions now." Alexander crossed his arms, looking away as if debating something internally. Then, after a long pause, he spoke again. "You said the boy's name was Magnolia?"
"Yes."
"The Pharaoh's secret weapon… If this is true, it changes things."
"I don't care about any of that. He dies, Alexander. He has to."
Alexander's gaze remained unreadable. Baron's rage was justified, but emotion had no place in war.
"You'll get your chance. But not like this. If you go in blind, you'll lose again. And next time, no one will be there to stop Nero's order."
Baron clenched his fists. He hated it, but Alexander was right. Magnolia was more than just a child soldier, he was something else. Something unnatural. And if Baron wanted revenge, he'd have to be smarter. Stronger.
"Get your strength back," Alexander said as he turned to leave. "When the time comes, I'll be watching."
Baron remained alone in the cold, empty corridor. His nails dug into his palms. The name "Magnolia" burned in his mind like a curse.
"I swear… I'll kill you."
His whisper echoed through the empire's halls, a vow etched in stone.
…
Deep within a secluded grotto, hidden behind a veil of cascading water, lay a spring unlike any other. Legend claimed it was a rogue tributary of the River Lethe, its waters defying the underworld's flow to reach the surface world.
But unlike the Lethe's embrace of forgetfulness, this spring offered the opposite: perfect, photographic recall. A single sip granted a day where every detail, every sensation, every word ever experienced flooded back with crystal clarity. Yet, the spring's gift was a double-edged sword. Scholars dreamed of its depths for unparalleled study, while others feared the burden of remembering too much; of reliving past traumas with agonizing precision.
It was here, at the edge of this forbidden spring, that Chloe resided.
Perched on a smooth stone, she gazed into the clear waters, her sharp, lioness-like purple eyes reflecting back at her. Strands of her blonde hair, folding out at the ends in elegant arcs, framed her face. She was not tall, by far the shortest of her associates, but her presence commanded attention nonetheless.
The rustling of leaves signaled Alexander's arrival. He stepped into the grotto, his silhouette illuminated by the dappled light filtering through the falls. Chloe did not turn immediately; she sensed the weight of his presence before he spoke.
"Chloe."
A pause.
"You came all this way." Her voice was steady, yet an undertone of expectation lingered, as if she already knew why he was here.
Alexander exhaled, crossing the stone-laden ground until he stood beside her. He watched as she swirled her fingertips through the water, disturbing the reflection of her own gaze.
"Selena is dead."
A ripple broke across the spring. Chloe stilled, her fingers hovering above the water's surface. No sharp inhale, no outburst of grief, just a slow blink, her expression unreadable.
"How?"
Alexander did not sugarcoat it. He recounted the battle, the ambush, the final moments where Selena fell. Through it all, Chloe listened in silence, absorbing every word with a stillness that felt unnatural.
When he finished, the hush between them was suffocating. Then, at last, Chloe spoke. "Selena was reckless, but she was never weak."
She turned, lifting her piercing eyes to Alexander's. "Did she die well?"
The question lingered in the air. Alexander, though familiar with the weight of death, hesitated. What did it mean to die well? In battle, there was no poetry, only steel, blood, and fleeting moments of resistance before the inevitable.
And yet, he answered. "She did."
Chloe studied him, searching for deceit. Finding none, she nodded. Then, without another word, she cupped a handful of the spring's water and drank.
Her pupils dilated instantly. The magic seared through her, forcing every detail of her life into sharp, overwhelming clarity. She remembered Selena's voice, the way she laughed, the way she fought, the way they trained together under the very same stars.
She remembered everything.
For a single moment, the ever-composed Chloe allowed herself to close her eyes and drown in memory.
…
As Valerie and Calix emerged from the Shadow's Veil, the golden dunes of Egypt gave way to the rugged, sun-drenched landscapes of Greece. The air was thick with the scent of salt and olive trees, the distant cries of seabirds mixing with the hushed whispers of the children they had brought with them.
They arrived at a hidden sanctuary nestled within the mountainous outskirts, a place known only to those who still honored the old ways. Ancient stone columns, half-claimed by nature, stood as remnants of a forgotten era. Here, the children, frightened yet resilient, found momentary refuge.
"We don't have much time," Valerie said, scanning their surroundings. "If we stay in one place too long, the shadows will betray our presence."
"But they need to rest," Calix countered, his voice steady. "And we need to find an ally here, someone who won't turn them over the moment they realize who they are."
One of the older children, a boy no older than twelve, stepped forward. "Where are we?" he asked, his voice steady despite the fear lingering in his eyes.
Valerie knelt to meet his gaze. "In a land where gods have walked, just as they have in Egypt. But make no mistake, this place is not without its dangers."
"We need to move carefully," Calix added. "If we were followed, the wrong eyes could bring war upon these lands."
Their journey into Greece had only just begun, and already, the weight of their mission pressed down on them. Somewhere in this foreign land, they needed to find safe passage, allies willing to help, and a way to keep the children from becoming pawns in the greater struggle unfolding across the ancient world.
The sun hung high over the Egyptian encampment, its heat an oppressive force pressing down on those who remained. Inside the war tent, the air was thick with tension as Emma stood at its center, eyes closed, inhaling deeply as she expanded her senses.
A faint breeze stirred, unnatural in its precision. It curled around her, weaving its way through the air, stretching far beyond the camp's borders. Her contract was in full effect, her connection to the wind seeking the lost children.
"They've crossed beyond our lands," she murmured, her voice steady despite the strain. "They move through the Shadow now."
Neitiqerty Siptah stood beside her, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his concern. "Then they've reached Greece," he said. "That must be where they've taken them."
"They're still moving," Emma added. "But no sign of distress… yet."
The pharaoh nodded, crossing his arms. "For now, we trust them. But I want constant updates, Emma. If their path deviates, I want to know immediately."
Across the room, Poison sat on a low stool, absentmindedly running a sharpening stone along the blade of a dagger. His mismatched eyes flicked toward the pharaoh. "And what of us?" he asked. "We've got one war, possibly two, brewing. If they aren't in danger, do we shift our focus back to securing what's left here?"
Before the pharaoh could answer, the tent's entrance stirred, and Sofia stepped inside. Her usually composed expression carried a hint of concern.
"Sous is awake," she announced.
Neitiqerty Siptah's gaze sharpened. "And?"
Sofia glanced toward the medical tent before answering. "He's asking questions. He wants to know what happened… what he missed."
Silence settled over the room. Then, without another word, the pharaoh turned and strode toward the medical tent, Emma, Poison, and Sofia following close behind.
Inside, Sous sat upright, his face still pale, though his wounds had been tended to. His orange eyes flicked to them as they entered. "I see I wasn't left behind entirely," he remarked, his voice dry.
"You're lucky to be sitting there at all," Poison said with a smirk, leaning against the tent's frame. "Most don't walk away from what you did."
Sous scoffed. "I take it things haven't settled since I was out?"
"You should rest," Sofia said gently.
"I've rested enough." Sous shook his head and looked at the pharaoh. "Tell me what happens next."
Neitiqerty Siptah studied him for a moment before speaking. "You talk big, boy. However, I'll comply. We move forward. Greece is now a factor, and the children have reached its borders. Our allies are scattered, our enemies are regrouping, and the tides of war are shifting once more."
Sous exhaled through his nose, nodding. "Then we don't have time to waste."
A slight smirk appeared on the pharaoh's face, one that only Ren noticed. The room fell silent again, but this time, it was the silence of resolution. There was no turning back now.
Moments later, the dim light of the Egyptian war tent cast long shadows over the gathered warriors, the air thick with the unspoken tension of what had been lost. At the head of the wooden table, Pharaoh Neitiqerty Siptah sat unmoving, his golden eyes scanning the young faces before him. They were still children, trained for war but not yet hardened by it, forced into the depths of conflict far too soon. Only General Saijew, standing rigid at the Pharaoh's side, carried the weight of experience. The others; Emma, Poison, Luna, Ren, Amelia, Magnolia, and Matthew, bore the grim resolve of those who had seen too much but not enough to forget their fear.
The absence of Valentina, Kibo, and Abraham sat heavy over them, a wound still fresh and bleeding. They had been taken. And worse, no one knew by whom.
Emma closed her eyes, stepping away from the table, her breath steady as she reached out into the air around her. A whisper of wind curled through the tent, stirring its fabric, carrying echoes only she could hear.
"The wind carries faint traces of them," she murmured, opening her eyes. "They were taken west, far beyond our lands. But the trail is weak. Whoever did this covered their tracks well."
Pharaoh Siptah exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into fists against the armrest of his chair. "Then we must act before the trail disappears entirely. Our people do not abandon their own."
Poison leaned forward, his crimson eyes dark with frustration. "The enemy planned this too well. No trace, no clues. It's like they wanted us chasing ghosts."
Luna crossed her arms, her golden-brown hair slipping over one shoulder as she scowled. "We're wasting time talking. If we know they were taken west, we should be moving already."
"And then what?" Ren countered, his voice edged with reason. "Wander the desert blindly? That's exactly what they want."
A sharp breath from Amelia broke the brief silence. "We need a real plan, not just emotion," she said, her voice firm but measured. "If we act without knowing who we're facing, we'll be walking into another trap."
General Saijew nodded, the flickering firelight casting deep lines across his battle-worn face. "She's right. We cannot afford recklessness. Emma, keep tracking. The rest of you, steel yourselves. We will not fail our own."
At the edge of the group, Magnolia's hands clenched into fists. His voice, quiet but unwavering, carried the weight of an unbreakable promise. "They're scared. Valentina, Kibo, Abraham… wherever they are, they're waiting for us."
From his place on the ground, knees drawn up, Matthew lifted his head. The usual lazy smirk was absent, replaced by something colder, sharper. "Then we'll bring them back."
The Pharaoh's gaze swept across the room, seeing not frightened children, but warriors on the precipice of battle.
"We will not fail them," he said, voice like steel. "We will find them, no matter what it takes."
The night stretched on, the desert winds whispering outside, carrying the distant echoes of the lost.