Hetalia - The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade

*Claws way to back to life* I livvveeeee! Holy hell, it's been a long time, not only that but this chapter has been further delayed by the soul crushing glitch that doesn't allow you to save or upload anything in document manager.

However, I am just going to upload it without a in-depth author's note as I would of liked. I promised that Turn of the Tide will be out soon, but I will confess that I have a superhero AU in the works so that likely will be posted alongside it. So look forward to that! Thank you for reading and I present the last chapter of Hetalia- The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade,

Enjoy!

The Elder Grove Isle, The Forest Grove.

Seamus Kirkland ran. Dry twigs snapped and brown leaves scattered beneath his drumming feet as he dashed through the whispering trees. A late night owl hooted overhead in the winking inky black sky, a predator that stalked his prey like Seamus; his oak leaf green eyes clued to the faint trail left by Cornelius and Arthur as he pushed his body to follow after. He leapt over steams and vaulted over fallen logs, so focused in keeping to the trail that he almost missed the sudden presences that appeared in his sensory range.

With a curse, Seamus skipped to a halt and rolled behind a trunk of a thick tree, praying that they had miraculously not heard his rather loud running. With his back pressed against the coarse bark, Seamus slowly rolled his head to peer around the tree and if he could spot the presences. When he saw no one approach, he near let out a quiet sigh of relief when a cool edge of steel pressed itself against his Adam's apple. Uh oh.

"Up. Now" An authoritative voice commanded and Seamus raised his hands to either side of his head as he stood up. He was surrounded by three men, one of them held a thin double-edged blade to him that seemed to extend from his…wrist? Seamus examined the weapon closer and saw, rather, that it protracted from a bracer clasped on the man's wrist. His oak leaf green eyes widened when he recognised who the men were. Watchmen, the assassination organisation of the Restless City, and sister branch of the Twilit Monastery. The watchmen wore black leather armour with an equally black cloak with hoods that were pulled over their heads low enough to conceal their faces. Daggers of differing size and shape were sheathed in their belts and the famous, characteristic hidden blades donned their wrists. As Seamus registered this, it seemed the watchmen had simultaneously recognised him as a twilit monk from his tattoos and markings under his eyes and lips. The blade at his throat wavered in hesitation.

"Release him," Said one of the other men as he lowered his hood to reveal a tanned face and shortish brown hair. Oddly, a white mask hid his eyes from sight. From the brilliant silver nightingale clap on his cloak, Seamus put together that he was the other mens' superior. The blade at his throat retracted and it's wielder stepped away as he and the other followed the masked man's lead and to lowered their hoods.

"Night and darkness" The masked man formally addressed to Seamus with a bow, the traditional greeting between watchmen and twilit Monks. Seamus gulped and returned the bow.

"Walk hand in hand" Seamus finished and gave an uneasy smile, horribly aware of the time he was wasting by talking to these watchmen. The longer he lingered, the longer Arthur was in danger. The masked man cocked his head at Seamus curiously.

"What are you doing so far from the monastery, brother?" He asked and Seamus silently groaned his frustration. He didn't have time for this! The quickest way to end this would be to just briefly tell the truth and hope they'll let him be on his way.

"Listen, I'm sorry but I do not have time for this. My name is Seamus Kirkland and I'm meant to be chasing after a man whose kidnapped my little brother. I don't know if he's hurt or what, but I need to go now!" Seamus blurted out in a rush of words and the masked man's eyebrows shot up from behind his mask as he reached out to grip Seamus by the arm.

"You are Allistor's brother?!," The man exclaimed and Seamus nodded numbly from surprise. How did this watchman know Allistor? The man smiled and patted his chest. "I am Sadrik Adnan, a close friend of Allistor's and leader of the Watchmen. Tell me, who has kidnapped Dylan or Arthur?".

"The bastard is Cornelius Manta and he and Marca Grand's taken Arthur to an angel temple to use him as some sort of key." Seamus hissed and the watchmen looked meaningfully between each other as Sadrik's smile twisted into a snarl.

"That man is the reason we are here. He stole secrets from our tower that were not meant for outsiders. Allow us to come with you Seamus, we will help you rescue Arthur and make this Manta pay for his crimes," Sadrik asserted with a pat of Seamus' shoulder, the warm smile back. Seamus could scarcely believe his luck. He had not only gained three new allies, but three capable, professional watchmen, and their leader was a friend of Allistor's to boot! Lady luck was smiling down upon him.

"This way" Seamus stated as he turned and began to run again, feeling immensely more confident than before. The monk and the watchmen together ran through the night forest towards the angel temple. Night and darkness, hand in hand.

The Sorcerers' Camp

Dylan Kirkland skidded to his knees at the wreckage of Allistor's tent and began to frantically search beneath the ruined cloth for his weapons and Allistor's light armour. His trembling hands finally closed around them and Dylan rushed to arm himself; pulling the enchanted weightless chain mail and tunic over his head and tightening the dagger sheath around his hips. He grabbed his quiver and bow and swung them in place over his shoulder before he stopped and looked at Allistor's axe handle to silently debate whether or not to take it as well. Allistor was very protective of that axe, it was a precious birthday present from their father. He'd be furious if Dylan lost it or broke it…Oh, what the hell.

"He can kill me later if I survive this" Dylan muttered to himself as he gripped the smooth, polished handle and swung it up to rest against his shoulder as he got up and looked back to the motionless Mana twins. Both were laying on their backs looking up to the sky almost as though in shock. Good. Maybe they'll be unfortunate enough for a goblin to run their way. Dylan huffed a breath in tense anticipation as he looked ahead of him and stood up. Time to wake up the camp.

"Goblins! Goblin attack! Up! Get up! Goblins are on us!," He screamed in his loudest voice, snatching a left out shield as he ran past the next tent and began to bash the butt of Allistor's axe against it to create as much noise as he could. "Up! We are under attack! Arm yourselves! Look lively! Goblins! Movement! I want movement!". Immediately, shouts of panic polluted the air as sorcerers tumbled out of bed and hurried to look for the source of the frightful noise. Dylan continued to run past the rows of tents, shrieking his warning and was relieved when some quickly gathered what was going on and darted to do as he said. He eventually got to the centre of the camp where he saw Macduffian dazedly stumble out of his tent with his frightened son clutching the hem of his trousers.

"Kirkland! What is the meaning of all this racket?!" The chief yawped and looked around bewilderedly as armed sorcerers came running to his tent to get an explanation of what the devil was happening. The crowd grew and Dylan made himself as tall as he could.

"Macduffian, we only have minutes. The goblins will attack tonight, we have to prepare to defend ourselves!" He stated and there was a chorus of dismayed cries of horror behind him. The look of disorientation was slapped off Macduffian's face and replaced with a stern one.

"You are certain of this?" Macduffian asked completely serious, his hand reached and pulled his son closer to his person. Dylan grimly nodded, tightening his grip on Allistor's axe.

"If we aren't ready for them, we'll be swiped out". Macduffian closed his eyes as he exhaled, steeling his resolve before he raised his voice to address the crowd.

"We are under attack. Ready yourselves and go to the southern end of the camp. We form a line there. Hide whose too young at the northern end of the camp" Macduffian ordered and the men dispersed; some going to take their sons to the top of the camp, some instead leaving straight to the front line. Dylan stepped forward to join them when he felt a tug on his elbow. Macduffian had stopped him, looking bashful.

"Dylan. Please, I ask that you go with the children" The man quietly pleaded and Dylan blinked in shock at the request.

"But, but I'm one of your best fighters! I should be on the front lines" Dylan protested and Macduffian tightened his grip.

"That's why I'm trusting you to look after the children. If the goblins break the line, we need someone who can hold their own. Do not ask me to leave my son defenceless". Dylan opened his mouth to argue, but the look on Macduffian's face stayed him. He couldn't turn down a father who was just desperate to protect his blood. His shoulders sagged in defeat.

"I'll do it" Dylan sighed and Macduffian smiled at him with tears in his wrinkled eyes before he knelt down to speak directly to his little boy.

"Listen now Thomas. I'm going to need you to go with Dylan Kirkland here. I need you to stay close to him and the other children, he will keep you safe. An- and if you ever get separated from him, I want you to run and hide. Do you understand?" Macduffian instructed his son and the boy sniffed as he nodded sadly. It struck Dylan there and then, now different his father was to others. If it were Gisil kneeling there, he wouldn't be telling them to hide. He'd be drilling them on the weak spots in goblin armour. He'd be reminding them of their height advantage and how easily goblins were scared by fire. But most importantly, he'd be ordering them to stick together…If he was being honest with himself, Dylan knew that he would be telling Allistor to specifically keep Arthur close; it had taken him longer than Seamus to recognise that their father was grooming Allistor into a bodyguard and Dylan wasn't sure about how he felt on the subject. It was easier not to think about it…

Macduffian's son looked up at Dylan with round, scared eyes, and Dylan motioned with his head for him to follow. Around them more and more men ran to get into formation as Dylan and his protege travelled in the opposite direction, Macduffian watching as his son disappeared from sight.

The Elder Grove, The Angel Temple's Entrance

Away from the all noise and the panic. Somewhere away where the only movement was the lonely wind that blew through the long grass on the hill, stood the chief of the Red Cloaks with the stone arched entrance of the angel temple to his back. With only the stars to accompany him, Marca Grand waited for Cornelius Manta to bring the key to unlocking the temple.

Some time passed before Cornelius' lean form emerged from the trees, dragging who Grand could only assume was Arthur Kirkland. Grand's stomach knot tightened even as he thought what they had done. If Gisil Kirkland ever known out they kidnapped his son, the son he was most protective over, he wouldn't just beat the crap out of him. He'd destroy the whole clan just to make an example of them. He shivered at the vivid imagery his mind conjured as Cornelius strode up the hill .

When he drew nearer with Arthur, Grand's eyebrows furrowed as he observed the hypnotised youth. The lad was in a deep trance of some sort. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, and he swayed slightly on the spot where he stood. Guilt pricked at his sides again.

"How'd you do it?" He asked, half not wanting to know the answer and Cornelius smiled at him knowingly as he reached into his pocket and withdrew the Hypnos tablet. Sick horror raised the hairs on the back of Grand's head.

"What- What, have you done" Grand uttered appalled, struggling to resist the urge to vomit up the small ration he had eaten while waiting. What Manta had done was taboo, a twisted, morbid combination of blood magic and runic binding. This, this was too much. Cornelius scoffed and gripped the entranced Arthur by the chin.

"It's a little late to be growing a conscious now, don't you think?" He leered as he jerked Arthur's head to him and Grand winced and looked away uncomfortably. Gods, this was harder than he could of ever anticipated. Seeing the lad…who had done nothing wrong other than be himself, be forcibly kidnapped to be used as an ends to a mean. It- what if it were Sorcha in his place? Is that what it would take for him to stop this?

"We've come to far to turn back now. I'll remind you, that this is what you wanted. With the temple's secrets, we'll be legends!" Cornelius egged on and Grand could only give a half heartened nod. Manta was right about one thing, it was too late to turn back.

The entrance had cracked open the second Arthur's blood had been smeared against it; a jagged mouth with a splitting, twisted smile as the raiders traversed into it's cavernous throat. The entrance chamber was vast and majestic, with thick columns of carved ivory and pearl tiled floors. Decorating the towering, circular walls was a mosaic mural on the history of the Angels of Gaia; colourful art depicting: their birth, their Archangel's rise, Seraph's crowning, and finishing with the closing of Heaven's and Hell's Gates. Fantastical events that were legend to the race of men and while the masterpiece did indeed convey a wondrous sense of awe, it was shame about the feathery cobwebs that now clung to it.

Grand gave out a low impressed whistle as he admired the last scene of the mural, below written in golden letters were the perplexing words:

And when the blood of Heaven and Earth is split among the innocent and the guilty, both Angel and Demon will walk the ground again.

At the centre of the chamber, laying under a thick coating of dust was a colossal dragon skull. In the hollow of it's eye socket, a wicked knife was plunged. There was distinctly something off about the knife, almost as though reality distorted around it; light fractured and bent unnaturally. Grand neared the skull hesitantly, a tremble to his hand as it reached for the ebony handle.

"Don't!" Cornelius cried from behind him, but it was too late. A brilliant, white light filled the chamber and forced Manta and Grand to shield their eyes for fear of being blinded. When the light died down, the pair lowered their arms and froze when a voice resounded inside their minds.

"Who dare disturb my temple?" A female's sharp voice thundered and the chamber shook and rattled from the presence's power. Grand's tongue grew thick in his mouth as he saw at the knife in fear, while Manta stumbled forward with a trembling lip of amazement.

"O-oh! Angel! Hear my-" Cornelius began with an exaggerated air of grace, only to be shut down by the alien presence.

"Do not presume. Do not judge what you cannot know. I am Vorpal, Archangel blade of Aiyana of Gaia and slayer of the jabberwocky. I see into your heart, I see your greed. You desire power here" The knife stated in broken tongue, and Grand decided to throw caution to the wind.

"Aye, we desire power. What must we do to obtain it?" He asked aloud and silence followed after. Neither Grand nor Manta could of known that it was in this moment of silence, that the Angel blade finally realised why the aura of the third silent party felt so familiar. It was smothered true, but the distinct rawness of it's potency had no equal; the might of a Seraph. It couldn't be, and yet, it could only be. The lost Seraph prince, Victoria of Gaia's miracle child, whom had been forced into hiding among men during the attempted coup of Heaven. Their Seraph had been…different after that day. The closest thing that could come to describing it was heartbreak. Oh! Imagine the joy it would bring to the heavens if their prince were to return! With this line of thought, the angelic blade devised a scheme to be rid of the gluttonous men and rescue it's Seraph prince.

"I will grant the power that you seek. But, I ask for one thing in exchange. The boy" The Vorpal blade proposed, it's cunning tone perfectly concealed as it's words settled upon the listeners. Grand and Manta looked to the hypothesised Arthur in stupefaction, unable to conjure any plausible reason as to why a mythical weapon would want the Kirkland. Grand glanced to Cornelius and saw him in return mouth the words 'blood sacrifice?'.

"Agreed. So please, grant us your power" Manta called out to the blade and a vibrating sound that could of been mistaken for a laugh filled the chamber.

"I did not say, it was for both of you. Only one will pass". A still, pregnant silence took the chamber. Cornelius Manta's hand slid onto his razor's handle, his smile malicious as he spun to attack. But he wasn't swift enough. Grand had already lunged, his fingers reaching for Manta's neck.

The Sorcerer Camp, The Northern end of the Camp

Thud! Another dropped. With the tiredness of an old man, Dylan Kirkland climbed off the fresh corpse of the goblin; the front of his tunic now dyed red with a new addition of blood that wasn't his own. Every muscle trembled with fatigue as he got to his feet and stumbled a distance back. That was the tenth, the tenth goblin that had come at them and he had singlehandedly killed. Dylan wasn't sure how much longer it would go on. As he had fought, the older ones of the group had watched him with horrified fascination, while the younglings had hidden their eyes. It was likely their first time ever witnessing any real combat. Dylan looked wearily back over to them and gave a shaky nod to tell them he could go on, before he turned back to retrieve his knife from between the goblin's ribs; yanking it out with a sickening, wet squelch.

An earsplitting scream from one of the little ones caused Dylan to snap his head to see a stray goblin charging directly for the children from behind the line of tents. Shit. The Kirkland bolted for the creature and lunged, tackling it roughly to the hard ground. He grunted as they rolled, Allistor's axe knocked out of his hand as pulled his arm back to plunge his knife down into the goblin's pot belly, before wrenching it back to repeat the lethal action. Gore spurted out from the new stab wounds and the goblin shrieked in agony. It wildly lashed it's own blade out and the sharp edge slashed against Dylan's forehead to cut deep. Hot, thick blood spilled down and ran into Dylan's eyes to blind him. He cried out and the goblin raised the knife again, when a spearhead sprouted from it's chest.

Gasping for breath, Dylan stared up with one closed eye as the goblin wetly choked on it's own blood and rolled off him only to reveal his saviour was Sorcha Grand, drenched in glistening sweat, blood and mud. The chief's daughter met his eyes as Dylan stared back with a look of utter bafflement, his mouth opening and closing repeatably before his brain kickstarted again and he shakily rose to his feet.

"I know yo-" Sorcha apologetically began, but never finished as Dylan's fist slammed into her jaw to send her staggering backwards. Dylan's shoulders heaved up and down in rage as she came to a halt and held her hand to ask him to stop.

"I deserve that" She admitted as she rubbed the bashed jawbone. Dylan's eyes ignited with blazing Greek-fire.

"The hell you do! You deserve worse, you bitch!" He spat at her and looked around in confusion when he heard the heavy footfall of a stampede. From the northern forest boundary, the Red Cloaks burst forth from the trees. The spear wielding sorcerers stormed past Dylan and Sorcha to descend upon the goblin army like hell fire.

"Oh. So they decided to show then? Wonder what changed their mind" Dylan sarcastically remarked as Sorcha waved over a squadron of men to escort Dylan's group of children.

"Perhaps they seek forgiveness" She soberly replied and Dylan snorted while he focused on closing the cut on his head, the blood already crusting and sticking to his hair.

"You'll be lucky if Allistor doesn't kill you on sight" He stated and Sorcha let out a deep exhale. A grim, tired expression on her dirty face.

"I have to try" She whispered when in the corner of her eye, she saw Dylan sway on his feet and spun to catch him as he slumped forward.

The Elder Grove, The Temple of the Vorpal Blade

The world spun as Arthur Kirkland's eyes cracked open. He gave out a weak groan at the feeling of high pressure in his head, and groggily tried to get his brain to work again. It took a few seconds and when reality came back, Arthur put together he was being carried with his head hanging upside down. He wasn't in the forest anymore with Seamus, Dylan and Cornelius- Arthur's frame stiffened when his last memory of Manta came flooding back. The tablet! It had done something to him and now he was… Arthur squinted at the blurred pale shape against the grey floor (the ceiling from his point of view), and choked in horror when his vision focused to unveil Cornelius Manta laying lifeless, staring at him with dead, glassy eyes and a thin trail of blood running down the side of his gaping mouth. His movement must of alerted his carrier to his wakefulness as when Arthur looked up, his terrified stare meet Marca Grand's.

"You're awake. Good, this'll all be over soon" The chief of the Red Cloak remarked in a disturbingly light tone, his black eyes seemingly distant and deluded. No, Arthur had seen those eyes before. He was in the arms of a madman. He had to get away, now. He would not die like Cornelius had, alone in this horrid tomb. Arthur twisted his body out of Grand's grip and backed away, his breath started to shake when he saw the devilishly large knife in his hand.

"You're mad" He accused in a quivering voice and he couldn't stop his eyes from unwillingly jumping back to Cornelius' body. Grand took a step forward with his arms held open, the warped giddy expression still on his face.

"I'm not insane. I will be the most powerful man in the world once I give you to the Angel and receive her power in return" He smiled and he took another step, closing the distance between him and Arthur.

"No. No, I won't" Arthur said without breath and his throat closed when Grand's air darkened to a dangerous one.

"You don't have a choice," Grand ominously stated as he reached for him. Arthur turned on his heel and fled down the hallway, deeper into the temple. Behind him, Grand's manic laughed followed, "You have no where to run Arthur!". Arthur ignored him as he sprinted to the end where a heavy set of double doors stood. He threw them open to crash into the next chamber and tripped up in surprise when his feet splashed in a shallow pool of water. He paused to properly examine his surroundings.

The chamber he had entered circular and towering, with it's most striking feature being the gigantic statue of a beautiful woman; her upper torso reaching down to the very bottom where a deep pool of water rippled and her head brushing the domed ceiling. Clear tears fell down her smooth cheeks into the shallow pool below from closed eyes. The woman was posed with her two palms loosely open. The shallow pool Arthur stood in was actually a raised platform of sorts that was only a few metre's below the statue's hand; the water that collected there gently overflowed to drop into the deeper pool. And, despite the lack of sunlight, vines and trees sprouted from the chamber walls in the rough intimation of a stairway.

Arthur narrowed his eyes as he stared up at the mosaic tiled ceiling in the patterns of celestial constellations, and could of cried in relief when he saw a faint beam of moonlight illuminate a hole hidden there. His escape route! Grand's voice inaudibly called out from the hallway again and as Arthur heard his footsteps draw nearer, he called upon his magic. He channelled it into the liquid below him, and the water rose, crashed and froze against the door on his command. The thick ice now forming a temporary barrier between him and Grand.

"That won't last long" Arthur muttered to himself when there was a loud bang as Grand shoved against the door and the ice splintered under the force. He had to move, now. Arthur ran to the lowest tree that grew out of the wall, leaping high to grab onto a branch and swung himself up into it. The wood groaned under his weight as he jumped to the next, inching his way higher and higher to the top of the chamber. He was one tree away from freedom when his ice barrier finally shattered and Grand burst into the chamber with his knife flashing.

"Do not let him escape!" The Vorpal blade's voice screeched inside Grand's mind and with it, it poured it's angelic power into Grand to take root. The addictive power festered inside Grand like a parasitic fungi, corrupting and contorting his mind into a suggestible clay doll. A sadistic grin stretched across the chief's face as he raised the knife to point it at Arthur. The vines which scaled the chamber walls became animated and like olive green snakes, began to creep towards Arthur, ensnaring and tightening around his ankles. Arthur went low to snap the vines when his balance over shot and he fell out of the tree.

He cried out as he plummeted and braced for the impact when the vines snapped out like whips to catch him mid-air; entangling around his limps and binding them together.

"Stop! Please!" He gasped when they constricted around his chest, squeezing tightly over his hammering heart. Grand looked up at him and directed the knife at the statue's open palm. The vines shifted and followed his directions, carrying the squirming Arthur over until he was over the hand.

"With an Angel's blade, I will be a god among men! And all she wants is you" Grand declared and Arthur's heart jumped to his mouth when the vines dropped him. He smacked his head as he landed hard on the stone and there was a gritty groan as the statue's fingers loosely closed over him to create a stone cage. Arthur found himself struggling to breathe as he pushed against the immoveable digits, sweat oozing from every pore from the useless effort.

"Stab the statue's heart, return me to my master!" The blade encouraged, when reason prompted Grand to finally question the weapon's words. Why should he return the blade? It was his power, wasn't it? He had fulfilled his part of their bargain, it was time for them to deliver on their's.

"I've given you what you want. Now give me the power you promised!" He shouted aloud, looking insane to Arthur who did not know he was conversing with the Angel blade. The blade's strange, cruel laugh resounded again.

"You are little monkey that climb tree, and think himself tall. Ha! As if a mere mortal could wield an Archangel's blade" It mocked and Grand's knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the knife.

"You lied," Grand growled and the the blade laughed at his anger. "if you won't give, I will take it". The laughter died and was replaced by a chilled, menacing air.

"Then you will not leave this temple alive" The Vorpal blade promised and the whole chamber rumpled as the trees Arthur had climbed, began to expand and stretch; the trunks swelled and their branches became arms and their roots feet. As the trees came to life and climbed down to attack, Grand roared his challenge and all the while, Arthur helplessly watched from his prison. Feeling way over his head and wishing with all his heart for help to come.

Outside the Angel Temple.

As the lone moon sank in the pitch-black sky, the twilit monk and three watchmen disturbed the quiet of the forest as they came to the entrance of the angel temple. The gateway was empty with chapped pieces of rumble laid on the ground.

"Grand and Manta must of already gone in" Seamus suggested and looked down when Sadrik came to his side and held out a long, narrow item to him. He gave the leader of the Watchmen a funny look as he accepted the gift to discover it was a Jasmine-Lotus tanto.

"I noticed you don't have one. Couldn't well send you without a weapon" Sadrik revealed and chuckled at the sorcerer's comic expression.

"I'm the son of the greatest hunter in the world and a sorcerer trained by the oldest, wisest masters of a thousand year old monastery. I'm pretty sure that makes me a weapon" Seamus countered and Sadrik just made him close his fingers around the weapon.

"Just take it. Allistor would kill me if you got hurt on my watch". Seamus gave in with a grateful nod, tucking the tanto into his belt at his back as one of Sadrik's men lit a flare, following closely after him as he stepped through into the temple. The red light of their flare illuminated the first chamber to cast long shadows. Seamus agitatedly scanned the spacious hall for Arthur and his stomach fell when what he saw were dark spots of blood that led away into a farther hallway. He grabbed the flare off the watchman, ignoring Sadrik's calls as he followed the tracks. The spots became a thick smear and at the end of the trail, Seamus gagged when he saw Cornelius Manta's corpse at the centre of a stinking pool of blood.
Beside his head, fragments of wood were broken which Seamus concluded was the tablet that Manta had used on Arthur. Which meant, Arthur was conscious and with Grand. Behind him, one of Sadrik's men stepped forward and turned the body over, taking a moment to examine it before straightening up to address Sadrik.

"Multiple stab wounds, died of blood loss" He reported with professional decisiveness.

"He and this Marca Grand must of turned on each other" Sadrik deduced and looked to Seamus when the man's breath heavily hitched in panic, his eyes wide with a look of heightened hysteria.

"Arthur! Answer me! ARTHUR!" Seamus bellowed as he stumbled over his feet into a sprint towards the hallway where sounds of a fight echoed.

"Seamus!" Arthur's voice weakly called back and Seamus poured his magic into his legs like fuel onto a fire for a burst of speed that launched him to the end doorway. The scene before him was chaos. Three humanoid tree giants clung to walls and swung at a dodging Grand who wielded a fearsome knife. As the four battled, Arthur was staring in wait for his brother to arrive after hearing his voice. When Seamus skidded into the chamber, he pushed his arm through the statue's fingers and waved wildly to him.

"Over here! Seamus!" Arthur shouted and Seamus' head snapped up, a look of alarm slapped his face.

"Are you hurt?! I'll get you down!" Seamus cried back and ran into the centre of the room. He braced mid-stride and jumped high to grab onto the statue's ring finger. With effort, he clambered up like a monkey onto the top of the loose fist and tried to pry apart the stiff digits.

"No. I'm fine, but Manta…" Arthur replied inside as he attempted to help, but the stiff appendages would not move.

"Was murdered. I saw on the way in. Damn! These bloody things won't give!," Seamus stubbornly relented and took a step back to look for another way. His gaze went down to the water. Hmm…

"I might be able to cut you out with the water" He stated with a crack of his knuckles and Arthur gave a grim nod before his pupil's jumped left and went wide.

"Seamus! The statue!" Arthur cried and Seamus was forced to flatten on his front as a giant stone hand nearly splattered him against the wall like a fly. The woman statue was very much alive now, her titanic face was openly glaring down at Seamus, and she brought her hand back around for another swing. On the platform, Sadrik and his men had arrived and their jaws dropped at the sight before them. The first to get their head together was Sadrik and he looked up to where Seamus and Arthur were.

"Fan out men! The safe retrieval of Arthur Kirkland takes highest priority," The leader of the Watchmen commanded and his followers snapped back into action, darting away to avoid the tree giant that turned it's attention onto them. "Seamus! Arthur! What the hell is this?".

Seamus shook his head in confusion and at his feet Arthur shouted up to him. "It's the knife! Grand had it after he killed Manta. It might be possessed!".

"Got it. Sadrik! Help me get close so I can exorcise it!" Seamus yelled his instructions as he flung himself off the hand, narrowly dodging the statue's second sweep and rolled upon impact on the platform. The statue's hand clipped it's own wrist of the hand that held Arthur, and the stone gave a worrying crack as a large chip was broken off. Sadrik came to Seamus' side and together, they closed in on Grand. The chief glanced over his shoulder as he sensed the approaching presences and flashed them a raving smile, slicing off one of his attacker's branches before spinning to face them.

"It's no demon blade boy. Those hellish fiends don't have power like this. Here, have a taste!" He cackled as he waved a hand out and Seamus felt himself be yanked off his feet and thrown down to collide with one of Sadrik's men. Without a second to recover, he was wrenched backwards, his eye missing Grand's knife by inches. Sadrik pulled him behind him and banished his dual hidden blades at Grand warningly.

"I'll hold his attention, brother. You focus on grabbing the knife" The older man cooly ordered and Seamus was stricken how alike he and Allistor were. No wonder they were friends, they both gave off the 'reliable, powerful figure' vibe. Seamus got to his feet, drew his tanto and brace to dart forward when the opportunity presented itself, when two events he couldn't of anticipated happened simultaneously.

The every moment Allistor Kirkland finally arrived, stepping into the chamber to join the fray, the hand that caged Arthur snapped, and fell past the platform to plunge down into the deep pool of water below. Time seemed to slow for Seamus, his mouth opened but no words came out as shock paralysed his mind.

"Seamus!," Allistor's voice jarred him out of his daze and Seamus blinked as he felt his brother push him aside, and felt the blast of heat when he threw a fireball at the tree giant that had reached out for him. The creature of wood groaned as it burnt to ashes and Allistor's grip clamped on his shoulder to meet their eyes. "Where's Artie?!".

Arthur…Arthur. Arthur!

"Shit!" Seamus cursed as he pushed Allistor away and ran to the platform's edge. Allistor shouted him to stop but Seamus had already sprung and he nosedived down with a splash. The water hit him with enough force to knock the wind out of him and it was only his monk endurance training that stopped it; though it had no power to stop the icy temperature from sapping his strength. With no light to illuminate his surroundings, Seamus focused his magic to concentrate in his pupils and his night vision activated. The statue's fist lay at the bottom of the pool amongst tangling water weeds, a thin line of small bubbles trailed out from inside. No, oh please no.

Seamus' lungs began to ache for air as he forced himself to swim down against the pressure of the water and the added weight of his wet clothes didn't help. His hands were numb from the cold as he pulled himself to the statue's fist and near cried out when he saw Arthur's form floating limply inside. No, no no no.

"Arthur!" He telepathically screamed to his brother, and no response came back. He was already unconscious, he was already drowning. No! He- Arthur couldn't- No! It wasn't, it couldn't. He couldn't let him die here. His lungs were burning now, screaming, begging Seamus for air. The cold stole the energy from his very bones and Seamus was finding it difficult to organise his barrage of thoughts.

"Please," Seamus thought despairingly, "please. I only worshipped you for a short time but please, help me. Help my brother". No sooner had Seamus finished his prayer, all his senses went to black. He was alone, and the world was gone. A deep chuckled rumbled his new abyss.

"One is all, and all is one. Divine intervention come with a price" The cold, cold presence vibrated to cause, all molecules, all atoms to buzz in a harmonising chorus.

"Whatever it is, I will pay it" Seamus answered with steeled resolve and the god's chuckle filled the empty space again.

"The fool jumps. The scholar looks over the edge".

Seamus growled in frustration, "I don't care. If it saves my brother's life, then I'd give it a thousand times over!". Silence…

"Fate be our witness" The god announced as the deal was struck, and Seamus' spirit lurched as he was back at the bottom of the freezing chamber pool. He let go of the state in alarm when a spontaneous crack splintered the structure. The crack snapped and the whole fist shattered to pieces. Without messing a beat, Seamus shot his arm out and grabbed Arthur's motionless body, deliberately ignoring the paleness of his skin. With a firm grip around his brother's torso, Seamus wearily used the last of his useable magic and mentally chanted an ascending spell. The water rushed past them as an indivisible hook tugged Seamus upwards like a fish on a line and at long last, his head broke the surface. Sweet, sweet air rushed back down his throat, and Seamus blinked furiously to readjust his eye sight.

"Allistor. Al- argh. Allistor!," Seamus tried to shout while treading water, which was hard when he barely had air to breath with let alone shout. Deadweight in his arms, Arthur still wasn't breathing, his head flopped back and his skin was a sickly, bloodless pale colour. Seamus didn't know if his heart was even beating. "ALLISTOR! ALLISTOR! HE'S NOT BREATHING!".

"ALLISTOR! ALLISTOR! HE'S NOT BREATHING!" Seamus' voice broke through his frenzied mind. He- he was talking about Arthur. Arthur wasn't breathing. Allistor stared down at Grand's beaten, broken form beneath him, his knuckles wet with his blood. Arthur wasn't breathing. He feverishly pushed himself off the chief and ran to the edge, where there in the water below, Seamus bobbed struggling to hold Arthur up. He wasn't breathing.

His hand shot out and he telepathically lifted Seamus and Arthur, sweat trickled down his forehead from the effort. When the two were safe above the platform and Allistor dashed forward to catch them both. He nearly gave out from their combined weight and Seamus gripped his collar tight, staring at him with manic eyes.

"He's not breathing. He- His- His heart isn't beating" Seamus gasped as he fell out of his arms and collapsed to his knees, shivering uncontrollably. Allistor held Arthur in the bridal style and pressed his ear against his chest. It was silent. No. No, no no no no no. Allistor crouched, set his younger brother down, knotted his hands together, and began to furiously compress Arthur's still chest.

"Come on. C'mon, Artie. Don't die on me. Don't you dare die on me" Allistor desperately pleaded as he performed the emergency procedure their father taught him, Arthur's chest unresponsive under his pumping hands. No, he can't. No. Allistor switched positions, tilting Arthur's head up to clear his airway and pinched his nose. He deeply inhaled, pressed his lips against Arthur's blue ones and forced in the air from his lungs. No response. He did it twice before switching back to compressing the chest, his movements becoming more, and more frantic. No response came, Arthur was still dead.

"Allistor…" Sadrik cautiously spoke up, placing a hand on his old friend's shaking shoulder to stop him, only to have Allistor throw it off.

"I can't- I can't let him die. He's ma brother. He's my little Arthur. I promised, I promised I always would watch over him! Always! Always!" Allistor screamed as he put more force behind his compressions, tears welling in his eyes, ready to fall, when beneath his fingers Arthur's heart spasmed. Spring green eyes snapped open as his body jolted and he began to choke and cough; his head turned to proceed to vomit up a lung of water. Once he finished, Allistor grabbed his little brother's thin, shaking frame and pulled it to his huge one. Pressing him against him with enough force that they could have fused into one being. Allistor's hand clutched the back of Arthur's golden head as his other snaked around to encircle his waist. Holding him crushingly tight as though to anchor him from leaving them again.

"Arthur. Oh my gods, Arthur" The poor man muttered over and over like a manta before he pulled back to see the youth's pale face weakly smile up at him.

"Took you long enough," Arthur feebly whispered, the sarcastic tone barely audible under the barrage of rib rattling coughs that followed after. Allistor managed a bark of a laugh himself and reached over to pull Seamus into their embrace, pressing his forehead against theirs' as relief washed over him. His family was safe. Between them, Arthur coughed and he fought to stop his lids from closing. Allistor chuckled at the endearing display.

"It's alright laddie. Ya can rest now" He reassured and Arthur hasn't even able to finish his nod before he dropped off. Seamus helped him position Arthur so he carried him on his back as they rose and for the first time, Seamus was able to clearly see the effects of the battle. All the tree giants lay in charred or splintered pieces. Both the statue's hands were missing and a good chunk of her nose to. Away a way from them, surrounded by the Watchmen, laid Marca Grand. The Vorpal Blade plunged deep into his chest, delivering on it's promise. Grand would never leave the temple alive. Without warning, the chamber walls began to rumble and shake.

"This temple is coming down! Everyone, out now!" Sadrik took charge and everyone ran, leaping and dodging falling debris as the platform collapsed on itself; Grand's corpse and with it, the Vorpal Blade, sliding off down into the pool.

The watchmen and the Kirklands flew, through the hallway and past Cornelius and the giant skull. As they fell out of the unstable temple, the entire building gave one last groan before it collapsed, the entrance caved in to become impassable again. The new dawn's pink rays shone down, illuminating the colours of the world; the green of the grass and leaves, the blue-indigo of the twilight sky. As the last of the darkness was chased away, it's god whispered it's fatal promise to Seamus.

"The fool knots the black noose around his pale neck,
and dreads death.
It is the scholar, who dreads what lies after"

"What do you mean?" Seamus silently replied, but the god continued to speak, it's deep, deep voice poetic and hypnotic.

"The fool is a hanged man, and a hanged man,
is a damned man.

The hanged are damned and hung are unsung, because deadmen tell no tales. The damned man is a lonely man, even the mother shuts the gate of her gracious garden to him.
The lonely man is a cold man,
abandoned by light and life,
with only darkness to take him into the quiet limbo

Pity the fool who think he a scholar,
Pity the fool who ties the black knot,
and above all. Pity the fool who sees it all, understands all,
and proceeds to do so regardless.

With those last words ringing in Seamus' mind, the god's presence slipped away. Intangible weight settled on Seamus' shoulders as he thought on Erebus' promise, and despite the glorious shining sun radiating down on them, the world seemed reversibly dim; like a blanket had been thrown over it to diminish the brilliant star's rays.

"Seamus" Arthur's small voice softly sighed and Seamus turned to see his little brother still sleeping soundly, his head resting on Allistor's broad shoulder but turned towards him.

"Seamus…," Arthur faintly spoke again, his thick eyebrows lightly frowned in sleep, "ask before you…take the last…piece". A bubbling laugh escaped from Seamus' lips and the burden that loomed over his head temporally vanished. No, it was going to be fine. It didn't matter what dark future lay ahead of him. As long as his family, the ones he loved more than anyone else, were happy, it would be enough for him.

It would be enough…

The Elder Grove, The Sorcerer Camp.

The camp was a right mess. Almost all the tents had been trampled underfoot and over on the left edge, a heap of smoking goblin corpses burnt. Those sorcerers who hadn't been badly injured were already moving out, thoroughly shaken by the experience while whose less fortunate were being attended to by the most skilled healers in the surviving tents. Allistor and company approached the largest one and pushed the flap open. Sorcerers who had fought on the front lines had suffered the worst of the goblins' blades, their bodies littered with cuts both deep and thin that were salved and bandaged. A cry rang out and Allistor saw Macduffian junior run up to him through the crowd. The plaster stuck over his left cheek moved as he grinned up at the Kirklands.

"Mister Kirkland! Mister Kirkland, mister Dylan is this way" The lad sung as he dashed off to the back of the tent, looking back to motion them to follow him. Seamus and Allistor shared a glance as they walked past the rows and rows of wounded men, both surprised to see members of the Red Cloaks among their numbers. They finally reached the back area, which appeared to be reserved, and entered to see Dylan Kirkland lying on a straw bedroll; a large scar that stretched from shoulder to shoulder now graced his body and his ankle had been fitted into a makeshift brace. All the gear he had taken into battle was set beside him, including Allistor's precious axe that still had blood and dirt on it. Allistor was about to grill him for taking it without permission when something else seized his attention away. Sorcha Grand knelt beside Dylan, her long braids swayed as she turned to see the newcomers and her black eyes widened when they met Allistor's.

"Get away from him" Allistor sinisterly growled as he instantly beelined for her, his hands full with Arthur so he predatorily pulled back his lips to bare his teeth at her. Sorcha jumped to her feet in preparation to defend herself when Dylan threw himself between her and his brother.

"She saved my life. The whole camp would of died if she hadn't brought the Red Cloaks" Dylan protested and Allistor starred his brother down, silently ordering him to step aside. After a few seconds of defiance, Dylan's shoulders fell in surrender and Allistor motioned to Seamus to take Arthur from him. Seamus cautiously did so and Allistor turned on Sorcha, his greek-fire eyes simmered with an emotion that could not solely be defined as anger.

"We hav' ta talk, alone" Allistor stated and Sorcha nodded slowly. After Seamus' reassurance that he'd watch over Dylan and Arthur, Allistor led the way outside to the hill on where his tent had stood. The tent itself was ruined but it looked as though the equipment hidden under the canvas hadn't been damaged. Well, at least that wouldn't have to be replaced. Allistor stopped and turned to examine Sorcha more closely. She had clearly been fighting, black and blue bruises and cuts decorated her arms and sides over her carved tattoos.

"Where's Manta's boys?" He spoke up and Sorcha gave a weary shrug.

"Ran during the fight. Don't ask where to, because I don't know" She answered and Allistor looked at her closely. There was no more confrontation in her, just exhaustion and a knowing sadness about her.

"He's dead, isn't he?" She asked without looking at him, wordlessly referring to her father. Allistor felt guilt gut him in the stomach when he remembered the berserk frenzy he had gone into to beat the man bloody. He was not innocent in his death.

"Yes. Sorcha, whatever was in there changed him. He murdered Manta an' tried ta kill ma brothers. The man that was ya father died in that temple".

"Absolute power, corrupts absolutely…," Sorcha quoted before she paused, "Did you kill him?". Allistor stiffened.

"Yes" He quietly confessed and Sorcha turned away to wipe her eyes. There was a still silence between them before Allistor broke it.

"Why did ya come back?" He asked and the woman that had broken his heart took in a deep breath to sigh.

"Redemption," She replied before giving a bitter laugh, "though nothing I do will ever be enough in your eyes. Even if I did save your brother's life".

"Ya nearly killed them"

"And you killed my father" Sorcha bit back and Allistor cringed at the cruel reminder.

"It was mercy" He softly justified, sounding half heartened even to his own ears and Sorcha let out another bitter laugh.

"Gods. We should just do this the old fashioned way and have a duel to the death. Be done with it all". Allistor gave his own bark of a laugh. She was still beautiful, all the things that had attracted her to him were still there. But Allistor felt no attraction towards her. The pain of betrayal was still fresh, it's edge still too sharp for entertainment of the idea of forgiveness.

"What will you do now?" He asked and Sorcha crossed her arms insecurely, a line formed between her brows.

"The Red Cloaks will not take a woman for a chief. There will be an election for the position, and I- well, I suppose I'll go it alone" She explained, the grief plain. Allistor shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he made a important decision.

"In tha north at the bottom of the floating Hallelujah mountains, there is a tribe of people that live alongside tha ice bears an' protect the Twilit Monastery. Me Ma is tha chief of that tribe, so y'know if ya ever get tired of goin' it alone an' ya need a home…" He trailed off and Sorcha looked at him gratefully.

"Maybe I will," She offered him a small, sad smile before she turned to properly face him. Allistor thought she might try to touch him and he readied himself to stop her when she surprised him. She pressed her index and middle finger over her lips, the gesture of deepest respect that a sorcerer could convey to another.

"Goodbye Allistor Kirkland, son of Gisil Kirkland. May the stars watch over you. May the wind blow against your face and may the sun always be on your back. May you be blessed with the happiness you deserve" She spoke softly before turning without another word to walk into the forest, away Allistor and away from her life. Allistor watched as she disappeared from sight.

"With the happiness you deserve eh?" He laughed ironically to himself when a familiar welcomed presence drew close. The infamous leader of the Watchmen threw an arm around his old friend's shoulders and reached into his uniform pocket to retrieve a silver flask that he pushed into Allistor's hand.

"You, my friend, look like hell and in need of a drink" Sadrik stated with a clap on his back and Allistor chuckled at how well Sadrik knew him, probably better than he knew himself.

"Screw you," Allistor chimed and the two laughed together, the kinship of childhood rushing back. Their laughter slowed to chuckles as they watched orange streaks blend in the sky. "Sadrik…thank you for helpin' Seamus an' Artie when I couldn't".

Sadrik tutted at Allistor's serious tone and pinched his cheek to cause the Scot to jump and protest. He wriggled out of the hold and backed off a distance.

"I'm serious! If Seamus had gone in alone… I don't know what would of happened ta him an' Arthur". Sadrik took in a deep breath and placed a hand on Allistor's shoulder to pull him into an embrace.

"Allistor, you are dear to me. For you, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do," Sadrik comforted, holding the contact a second longer before he pulled away and slowly rolled Allistor's chin with a fist, "Now, what to check in with your brothers before we get drunk off our heads?". Allistor cracked a smile.

"Oh hell yeah".

Two days later…

"But do you have to leave now?"

"Now's a good time as any"

"But you were literally dead but a few days ago! Your heart wasn't beating!"

"Oh Seamus, that was in the past" Arthur waved away his brother's argument with one hand while he finished packing his effects with the other. Seamus stood behind him with his arms folded, a stern disapproving look on his face.

"Arthur I really don't think you should leave so soon" He pressed again and looked to the entrance when Allistor stormed in, dripping wet from the downpour outside. Their new little tent was posted just on the outskirts of the fae kingdom Avalon, though it's magical boundaries did nothing to ward away the terrible weather.

"That is tha last time I ever go hunting with Sadrik, tha cheeky git! 'It's a whiff of cloud' He said, 'It'll pass' He said," Allistor raged, throwing down his bow and shook his fist in the direction he had come from, "Well it wasn't a fuckin' 'whiff of cloud' was it!". The Scot sighed with sudden exhaustion before he spotted the packed bag on Arthur's shoulder and his and Seams' tense body language.

"What's goin' on here?" Allistor demanded and Arthur saw Seamus cross his arms triumphantly and smirk at him. Shit.

"I was, uh- just leaving" Arthur blurted quickly, inching slowly back towards the back entrance. He wasn't subtle enough as Allistor narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Oh aye? Leavin' for where?" The eldest Kirkland asked with a deliberate tone of sarcasm, the rain continued to relentlessly hammer the sides of the tent. On the left, Dylan rolled over and sat up from his nap, a trail of drool running down his chin.

"You're leaving Arthur?!" He dazedly exclaimed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried to stand while half asleep. Arthur sighed and opened his mouth to stutter for an answer.

"Well, yeah. I have go at some point!" Was all Arthur could come up with and he jumped in shock when Allistor's hand patted his head; his hand was warm and comforting in it's weight.

"Doesn't have ta be now though, does it? Dylan's on the mend and I heard from Sadrik about somethin' that might interest ya" Allistor baited and saw Arthur's eyes light up in interest despite himself.

"Aye?"

'Archery tournament. Tha Blackburns are hostin', and are you gonna try an' tell me we aren't going ta show 'em up at their own bash?" Allistor devilishly smirked, knowing he'd got him when a impish smile split onto Arthur's face at the thought.

"The Blackburns, you say?" He remarked airily with a click of his tongue and cocked his head. Allistor knowingly nodded, Dylan rose and he and Seamus came together so that they all stood in a circle, each with identical green eyes that held a wicked mischievous glint to them. Dylan stuck his hand out into the centre.

"Who's with me?". Seamus smirked at the cheesy action but put his hand in anyway.

"I'm in" He said and looked to wink at Arthur, who stepped forward and smacked his hand on top of Seamus'.

"Bring it on" Arthur challenged and all three brothers turned to Allistor. The eldest Kirkland scoffed and brought his massive hand down to complete the pact.

"Let's do this" Allistor roared and all three threw up their hands skyward in celebration to chant and sing for their coming victory. Brothers united, then and forever.

But oh, how could they known? How could they have known that at that moment, the Emperor had began the starting phase of his terrible purge. How could they have known that even as they laughed and danced, their brother sorcerers were being relentlessly hunted like animals…

How could any of them known?

One week later…

Seamus watched his youngest brother run over to the transportation gate and rest his palms against it's stone surface to cause the gate to hum as it activated. From his back, he heard Dylan chuckle and take the bag he carried from him along with Allistor's as he pasted them. He jogged over to Arthur and dumped them at the base of the gate before he pulled the blond into an unsuspecting head-lock to tousle his already messy hair. The affectionate sight could of almost made him forget the fact that they were being chased by the Empire.

"Quite the trip" He remarked with a smile as he gazed at the humming transportation gate, the runes glowing as magic flowed through them, "This will take us to the Capital aye?".

"That's the plan, laddie" Allistor confirmed as he strolled past him to catch the pleasant breeze on his face. Seamus stared at his brothers, flicking back from one face to the next in a cycle. He could not explain the sudden urge, nor why it felt like it was the most important thing in the world. But it was, and then, Seamus realised why.

There was an indivisible, weightless, but undeniable grip enclosed around his throat and Erebus' promise rang clear in his ears.

The fool is a hanged man.

And Seamus knew he was going to die. His noose had finally tightened, and now Death had come to pull the lever to drop him. Pity the fool who ties the black knot.

"Ready ta go, Seamus?" Allistor's voice asked aloud and Seamus opened his mouth to scream, to warn him, to tell him that he was sorry and he loved them and-

Thud.

"Seamus?".

Seamus watched Allistor slowly turn around to look at him, watched as his pupil's shrink when they saw the red arrow that was now lodged in his dripping, bloody throat. Seamus watched as an outsider as his own body fell dead to the ground, blood continued to violently spurt from his gaping windpipe. He felt cold, and alone. The world was beginning to grow dim around him and the noises dissolved to silence until Seamus could barely see his family anymore. A colder presence than his materialised behind him.

"Abandoned by light and life, with only darkness to take him into the quiet limbo" Seamus' hollow voice quoted, echoing in fragments. Erebus did not laugh now; he was not cruel. But instead placed a strong, ebony hand on Seamus' spectral shoulder,and the former colours he had had in life flashed for a brief, bittersweet moment. Seamus did nothing to stop himself as he felt his humanoid form evaporate into it's primeval state. The god of darkness now held a dark blue, flame that gently bobbed at the centre of his palm. Without a sound, the smoking soul sank below into the dark skin, and with that it's light was gone.

Erebus closed his fingers over his palm and felt the small, but potent power of the soul within. A truly wondrous creation on his sister's part, and it was his. He had accomplished the first step of his preparation. The soul of Seamus Kirkland, critical to it's execution. It's worth not in the physical power it itself held, but rather, it's paramount relationship with Gaia's White Queen and grandchild. Brother Tartus thought it clever to have game with sister Gaia, where piece would clash against piece. He was a fool, and Gaia to for playing along with it. Erebus allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as he summoned the shadows to carry him back into his realm.

The scholar would know, that there were other, subtler ways to influence a war.