Temple of Achyron – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
"Are you sure you don't want one of the others to go with you?" Watcher Poldor asked, a frown etched into his face. He stood before the desk in Verathin's study. Kallinavar knew he would eventually have to start thinking of the study as his own, but not yet.
"There's not enough to spare." Kallinvar rose from his seat and pushed the chair in behind the desk.
"Watcher Poldor is right, Kallinvar. Aryana Torval flies the banner of Old Amendel, your home." Watcher Gildrick leaned against the stone alcoves by the door, white-trimmed green robes draped over his shoulders. His new charge, Watcher Tallia, stood at this side. Her dark hair fell over her robes, her keen eyes never leaving Kallinvar.
"I'm well aware of my homeland, Gildrick. I do not need a lesson." Kallinvar cursed himself for being so harsh. Since seeing Achyron, he'd not been able to focus; his temper had been short and his mood dark. 'You cannot stop Efialtír's harbinger from widening the tear in the veil. Too much has been set in motion. But you must meet him when he does… The Alignment is only the beginning.' Kallinvar had spent many weeks grappling with those words. For nearly four centuries, he had prepared for the Blood Moon. It had consumed him. Now, with the Blood Moon so close, Achyron tells him it is only the beginning. What does that mean?"I simply meant it can be difficult for a knight to face his past, Grandmaster."
Kallinvar scowled at Gildrick. The Watcher knew Kallinvar was uncomfortable with the title. He also knew that he particularly hated it when Gildrick used the word. He had known Gildrick since the man was a child – they were past titles and formalities.
Gildrick smiled, which only made Kallinvar scowl deeper. The man always knew when he'd gotten underneath Kallinvar's skin. "You saw it with Arden. It is not a simple thing. To see the banner of your homeland may not be as easy as you think. Take Brother Tarron with you, and perhaps Sister Mirken. They are back from Arkalen."
"I told you," Kallinvar said as he moved past Gildrick and Tallia, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor beyond. "I don't have knights to spare. The elven attacks in northern Loria have driven hordes of refugees to the west and south. The Bloodspawn slaughter them as they march. Have you seen the war table? There are more red markers than I can count."
Polder, Tallia, and Gildrick followed Kallinvar into the corridor.
"Lensa and Yarrin are gone, burned to char and cinder. The Bloodspawn hordes grow stronger with each passing day, Gildrick. I…" A pulse rippled through Kallinvar's Sigil. "I…" He tried to speak but couldn't focus.
"Kallinvar, what's wrong?" Gildrick grabbed Kallinvar by the shoulders, moving his head to keep their gazes locked. "Look at me, Kallinvar."
Kallinvar pushed Gildrick away. The sickly sensation of the Taint seeped into his mind, snatching the air from his lungs and the strength from his legs. His consciousness recoiled, but he could feel the darkness pulsing, throbbing like a beating heart; it turned his blood cold and sent a shiver across his skin.
"The time has come, my child."
Kallinvar pulled himself upright, then set off down the corridor. Gildrick, Poldor, and Tallia followed him. They grabbed at his shoulders and demanded he stop, but he ignored them like a wolf would a fly. As he moved, he picked up pace, stopping short of a jog.
Tarron and Mirken emerged from a corridor on the right, panic on their faces. "Kallinvar!"
"I know." Kallinvar didn't stop. Tarron and Mirken ran to his side, Brother Daynin joining them a few moments later. As they moved through corridors, passing the sleeping quarters, the library, and the watcher's chambers, Sister-Captain Olyria and Sister-Captain Arlena joined them.
"Kallinvar!" Gildrick roared. "What is going on? Answer me, Kallinvar. You…" Gildrick's voice trailed off as they rounded a corner and came to the front doors of the temple. The wicket gate was open, and a thick slice of red light shone through.
Kallinvar stopped a few feet from the wicket gate, his gaze fixed on the red light. The sounds of chatter and murmurs drew his attention behind him. He'd not realised how many others had joined them: knights, priests, porters, cooks, chambermaids. They all looked to Kallinvar, fear and expectation in their eyes. He turned to Tarron, holding his old friend's gaze. Tarron nodded.
Kallinvar drew in a long breath, then strode towards the great doors. He stepped out onto the top of the stone staircase that descended from the temple into Ardholm.
More knights, priests, and citizens of Ardholm stood on the steps. Each of them looked up, their mouths open, their eyes wide as they stared at the crimson moon that dominated the sky. The Blood Moon's light made the horizon look as though it were on fire, the clouds emitting an incandescent glow.
Whispers filled the air as more people stepped out through the wicket gate behind Kallinvar.
"The Blood Moon," Kallinvar heard someone whisper.
Tarron moved beside Kallinvar, his stare fixed on the moon. "And so it begins again, brother. Thirty days of night. Thirty days when Efialtír's hand can reach through the veil."
Kallinvar allowed his gaze to linger on the moon. Four centuries he had waited for this day yet hoped it would never come.
It is not the storm we must fear, but what comes after.
Kallinvar nodded to Tarron. He looked back at Watcher Gildrick. "Gildrick, we must recall the knights at once. Have the beds turned and the kitchens stocked. Give everyone a task. Do not let their minds dwell. We go to war."
Kallinvar turned his back on the Blood Moon and stepped through the wicket gate, Tarron, Mirken, and Daynin behind him.
And so it begins.