Al wanted to turn back.
Even if it meant giving up all they had left, she didn't want to even fathom the risk of returning to the swamp.
"We got lucky," she said, holding his hands, the two awake as everyone else slept beneath the stars. "I know what it means to you, but, I won't see Dany sent to a place so horrid and des-."
"She's not the same little girl," he urged, tightening his flail hand. "Take the lass and go, if she'll let you, but I'm not letting him go!"
"You might not have a choice," Al said, tears in her eyes. "Look, I've gone to hell and back for you once already, but I can't, in my right of mind, send someone else there! I know you care for Nathan but…Nathan's gone…"
He growled, "You saw him yourself on the battlefield, when Larosa saw him he st-."
"Another stroke of luck," she blurted out. "We can't keep fighting off hopes and dreams, and I don't want anyone else dying over this, obsession you have!"
"Is it?" He asked, standing. "What happens when we let her gain even more power? We just slayed her most trusted man, there's little more for her to do other than storm the Burning Lands herself, then what?"
Al took a deep breath. "Because of us. We chose to storm Eldreth's walls, all of us, by your blood lust! At some point we have to take responsibility, much of the destruction in the fireborne kingdoms is our own doing."
"Then we'll make it right. Blood for blood, the only way there is."
She grasped his hand, scowling him. "There has to be another way. If we just step back, and maybe think this thr-."
"There is no other way," he said, pulling her tight. "Have you learned nothing? What good's waiting around for her to walk the mainlands herself?"
"Have you?" She said, ripping her arm away from him. "I know you've got this, obsession, and I know you're trying to piece together something missing from you, but your warpath has ruined many lives."
"And yet here you stand. You could've gone anywhere, left any time," he said, picking up his flail. "I know why I'm here, the fuck are you for?"
Al shook her head, balling a fist with her bow arm. "How could you even say that? Everything we've been through? I won't let you destroy yourself, and I won't let the death god get a complete hold of you."
He lowered his head, holding in laughter at first, then let it out. "Al, He's already got me! From the moment I woke up in that hellhole, I got a second chance. The warrior I was before was a sad little man, hiding from dragonfire with other weasel fucking runts!"
He gave his flail a tap, then spat.
"This here, this is the only way I can make things right. I know damn well how much my hunt's brought about more chaos in these cursed lands, but they certainly weren't doing themselves any favors before I, or you, awakened."
She turned away from him, fighting back tears.
A long few minutes of silence, and she sighed, running a hand through her messy dirt blonde hair.
"After this," she said, gathering her weapons, "I'm through. No more monsters, no more war. No more screaming hordes in the night. I had a hard enough life before, I won't force myself to fight through another."
He wanted to put a hand on her shoulder.
Stay with me, he wanted to say.
It mattered not. They were two different people, no matter how close they'd gotten. No matter how many times they'd fucked in the fields before the mountains or in the dark within the hot springs, she was not warrior.
Heroic, adventurous, even brave, but not like him.
She knew too much, and it clouded her judgement.
He'd do whatever it took to bring Arthur back, he could at least do that for her.
Yet the spearman could wait, as once the others awakened, the stars over Eldreth fading, they made their way for the streets of the capital.
What was left of them at least.
Nothing but brittle bones and a few scurrying rats awaited in Eldreth's streets. Huts, where the poor folk were herded and packed like livestock, were empty. Lights from the palace itself were few, just a pair on in one tower, none in the others.
Dany's burn marks didn't heal overnight, and though Larosa offered her a hand, she refused.
"It stings, like a reminder," she said, touching black-red charred flesh on her left cheek. "I'll fight harder."
Larosa urged her a bit more, but a steam eyed scowl turned the young master away.
Al started to say something, but didn't bother.
They were of the same lot, he and Dany and Eris. All who were brought about from their old lives, into an endless nightmare with nothing else to know.
He'd learned so much about himself, and nothing at all.
One thing was certain, he thought to himself as they approached the palace's southern doors; there was no turning back.
He couldn't stop if he wanted to, for all the kingdoms knew of soulless wretches. None were more renown than the Bane of Razelael, among other worthless titles. He'd offended the gods too much for a quiet life.
As if he'd want one in the first place.
William's cross-star shined, leading them through the palace doors.
There were no blessings the young father could give, only a means of allowing them to see in a forsaken palace.
Much of the ornaments, paintings, lanterns, and jewels along the walls were gone. Windows were either shattered out or cracked to the point the Dark Lord wasn't distinguishable.
Yet the air was thick.
So thick, he found himself slowing down.
Dany was close to him for a moment, then she slowed as well, stopping with the rest. Larosa was on her knees, William over her with a fading white fire in his palm. Al cursed, urging them to turn back, but he could feel the First Sword.
"She's here," he said, one step forward at a time, the halls a seemingly lifeless void.
Al shouted. "It's not safe here fore Larosa and William, we-."
William's eyes were ablaze, the young father groaning.
Light was in his veins, and as he took Larosa's hand, the young master gasped. Power flowed in her veins as well, and she pulled out her own cross-star.
The air wasn't so heavy, and the two led on through the palace, seeking the nearest door to the throne room.
"Are you alright?" Al asked, afraid to touch either one of them.
He held a hand above his brow, white beams so bright from the young father and master.
"We're fine," William promised, his voice a smooth echo like the winds. "The Lord of Light's decided to give me a bit more help than usual, in this rather charming place."
Al looked to Larosa, who nodded.
"I'm alright as well. You three, will have more than enough holy energy within your weapons by the time we enter the throne room. Fight with all your might!"
They turned a corner, climbed a black rotating staircase, and the halls weren't so scarce.
Paintings, of the First Sword and many other warriors, and vampyre royalty. There were stones along the walls, onyx, ruby, diamonds, and dark gold gems William described as starfyre.
"One of these stones," the young father said, running a hand over a round jagged gold rock beneath a portrait of Quarrath, "could feed the kingdom for over a century."
A door creaked, footsteps skittering within a nearby room.
He barged his way inside, finding a rope tied to iron bars by a window. Upon looking outside he saw a man bolting through Eldreth's roads, sack in hand.
'Won't be the last of 'em.'
What happened on this day, darker than any night within the land of the five kingdoms, would change things for the better or worse. Likely the worse he figured, as the fallen lord would've wanted.
It was silent.
Not even William's vibrant power, the power of the Lord of Light, hummed.
They stood before a door, one he'd seen before with the head of a gargoyle he almost considered a friend mounted.
William and Larosa stood aside.
A tight flail hand, he slung the hundred kilo death whip through dark oil polished oak. Embers flickered with the splinters, and beyond the doorway was a dark hall, glowing white three-pointed stars leading down a staircase.
He led the way down, the remaining Embers at his side, a young father and master behind.
Three-pointed starlight faded, though at the bottom of what must've been hundreds of stairs glowed the throne's glory.