Book 2: Chapter 55: Eruption

  The night had been unnaturally quiet. Alex’s squadmates lay scattered around the campfire, each wrapped in a different flavor of personal exhaustion. Kate fiddled with the puzzle box she had gotten from Lady Caerwyn. Devon tinkered with a glyph crystal, his eyes heavy but hands still somehow steady. Allie leaned against a crate, her head tilted back and eyes focused like her vision could pierce through the heavens. Even Alex was perched on a log at the edge of camp, just to get some space to breathe for a moment.

  Then it happened, the sky ripped open.

  A thin line of white formed itself on the horizon. It was too bright to be reflected starlight or campfires, and it was too early to be dawn. Within seconds after appearing the light split into a burning bloom. It stretched up was and a radiant gold swallowing the stars. The blast stretched across the night, blinding and merciless, until the entire world seemed drowned in an eerie golden luminescence.

  The squad scrambled to shield their eyes with their arms or hadns. Soldiers all across the camp shouted, pointing skyward. Horses screamed, pulling against their tethers. Wyverns screeched in the distance, and began to fight against their perplexed handlers. The air itself felt as if it trembled in response. A vibrating that traveled through teeth and bone as the light reached its peak. Then it Mist clung to the battlefield like an old ghost, suddenly curved inward, collapsing in on itself like some celestial lung exhaling its last breath.

  The explosion came with a pulse that slammed through the air. It rattled the tents, and threw men to their knees. Aether flared in every soulgate aperture caught in the shock-wave that caused a spiritual pain like someone had reached inside and squeezed on their spirits.

  Alex caught himself on one knee, vision still swimming. His heart hammered in response, though it wasn’t fear he felt, but strange sense of wrongness.

  Nearby, Holly was pale. Her eyes wide as the horizon still bled gold. She clutched her sword’s hilt so tightly her knuckles whitened. “That couldn't have just been a spell attack,” she breathed shakily. “That was… gods, that was a magical nuke. Third Tier? No—Fourth. It has to be Fourth.”

  No one had an answer for her. The light on the horizon dimmed, but the silence that followed was worse than the blast. It was the kind of silence that only came after something irreversible, something so horrific it didn’t have a man-made name or description.

  The camp went from dead still to chaos in a heartbeat. Some soldiers screamed victory, throwing their fists into the air to shout Terraxum’s ultimate revenge. Others dropped to their knees, praying to whatever god they thought might still be listening. A few just stood frozen, staring at the fading bloom as if it might open again and it wouldn’t forget to swallow them on the second go-round.

  Officers stormed through the madness, shouting orders no one could hear over the roar of panic. “Form lines! Shields ready! Watch the skies!” The words scattered like leaves in wind, the voices of command without any control behind them.

  The unnatural fire still burned in the clouds, twisting slowly as if it too, was reluctant to die. Its glow painted the squad’s faces in colors too close to blood. They gathered without speaking, drawn by the same sick dread.

  Kate was the first to speak up. “That wasn’t us?”

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  The answer was obvious, none of them had power like what they just saw, not even Alex. Even if he coupled [Descending Demon Fist] with his [Vita-Surge Cloak], while his Wyrm-heart was active, Alex couldn’t manage that level of destruction.

  Eric’s jaw worked as he bit at his nails nervously. “Then who the hell did it?”

  Devon didn’t look up from the horizon. His glasses reflected the faint embers still raining from the sky. “This wasn’t defense… this was a strike. Precision. Someone wanted this to happen.”

  No one breathed for a moment. The glow finally began to fade, leaving the sky black again, but the darkness felt heavier now, a smothering blanket of unknown. Alex’s eye narrowed, his hands working nervously at his sides. He spoke low, almost a growl. “Kailan was in that city. The peace summit… that was the target. Had to be.”

  The fire died above them, but no one moved. They all knew what the next couple hours would bring.

  Panic traveled faster than any rider could. By the time the sun cracked over the mountains, the entire front was already choking on rumors. First came the whispers: no contact from the peace envoy, no word from the capital. Then the sharp-edged news, no survivors reported anywhere near the blast. Any mage who tried scrying the site came back pale and shaking, reporting only static and howling distortion. Magical communications with Terraxum proper were a mess of broken signals and unanswered calls.

  By noon, the lies began to grow teeth.

  “Terraxum unleashed the bomb to break the stalemate.”

  “The Aeralith detonated their own city to take out Prince Kailan.”

  “It was the Striders, they’ve been weapons all along.”

  “The gods have passed judgment. This is the end.”

  Each version was louder than the last, carried on terrified voices that refused to quiet down.

  By the midday, the ceasefire was already dead. A scout screamed as he stumbled back through camp, bloodied from an arrow that should have never been loosed. Somewhere on the far ridge, a squad fired off a spell volley without orders. The retaliation was instant. The lines dissolved into isolated clashes, small fights all along the trenches were spilling into larger ones. Units moved without commands, driven by fear more than orders.

  The hope of a promised peace had snapped like a rotten rope.

  Alex stood in the middle of it all, watching soldiers scramble, officers shouting over each other. His squad tightened around him as if by instinct. Behind them, the world was falling apart piece by piece despite the fact they had spent the last weeks trying to hold it together.

  The sound came first. A deep, rhythmic beat of wings. Like a war drum echoing across the camp. The wyvern dropped from the sky with military precision, landing hard enough to rattle teeth but not enough to look unintentional. Its rider dismounted in one smooth motion. Gleaming armor caught the firelight. Every movement of the man radiated authority. He appeared as if he was born to bark orders and then glare at anyone foolish enough to hesitate.

  He marched toward them, and without ceremony produced a scroll. It was sealed in gold wax and stamped with the Terraxum royal crest. He gave only a curt nod, and the kind of stare that told them the message was more important than their lives.

  Alex broke the seal, the firelight flickering across his face as his eyes scanned the words. The message was painfully direct: “Return to Terraxum Capital. By royal edict.”

  The squad exchanged glances. The messenger stood stiff as a sword, waiting for an acknowledgment from them that he didn’t need.

  Allie shook her head. “They think we did this? That’s why they’re pulling us?”

  Alex swallowed down his own suspicions. He carefully folded the parchment as if it might bite, and slid it into his pocket. His spoke with the kind of steady tone that leaves no room for debate. “Pack everything. We leave before sunrise.”

  The royal messenger gave a satisfied nod before remounting his wyvern, then vanished into the clouds as quickly as he’d come.

  The squad moved with quiet efficiency, bred from too many missions where hesitation meant death. Garret muttered under his breath, “Well, looks like we’re officially the bad guys again.”

  Alex let that hang in the air, because really, what else was there to say? The hours stretched on, filled with the hum of packing gear and the heavier hum of questions no one dared to ask.