Destiny of the Sword: To Save Her

By Jeremy Twigg

How far would you go to bring back the one you love? How much would you sacrifice? The second installment in the Destiny of the Sword series, To Save Her will put the power of love on display when Ayden must learn the secrets of an all-powerful sword to try to save the girl he loves and battle an oncoming army led by his legendary exiled father.

Picking up where the first book left off, Ayden goes on a coming-of-age quest for eternal loveto save his Isabeland uncover the secrets of his cursed bloodline. His journey will take him far beyond the only borders hes ever known. Strange new lands better left forgotten will challenge his purity and ultimately reveal his true self. He will discover that love leads the heart with the greatest intent but sometimes guides to an end that is sharper than the sword.

The Milak return stronger than ever to destroy mankinds finest city and imprison the world in darkness. The age of man will be on the verge of extinction as swords and sorcery rise in battle and as gods and men collide. And Ayden will have to face his father before he can ever hope to get Isabel back.

Can they be saved from the coming end? Will true love be victorious? Will Ayden survive his journey? The fate of their world will hinge on the power of a loveand the destiny of a sword.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524638382

Jeremy Twigg

Jeremy Twigg has been a published author and scriptwriter for over a decade. From sword epics to slapstick comedies, his works are clearly influenced by his passion for two writing mediums—novels and screenplays. He hopes this infusion of these two styles will give his storytelling a refreshingly unique voice in a crowded market. Jeremy was born and raised in Maryland, and aside from a very brief stay in Los Angeles, where his driving skills lacked the “crazy” necessary to stay on the road, he has lived there all his life. He is a 2006 business management graduate of Allegany College of Maryland, where he also received an award for academic excellence and leadership. Most of his first published novel was written during his college years at the campus library when he should’ve been focusing on school. But he’s always been a dreamer—and he doesn’t plan on changing that. And he loves pizza. He just wanted you to know that for some reason. To further explore his work or connect with Jeremy, go to www.jeremytwigg.wix.com/screenwriter.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Evil Has a Name

I know it’s been a long wait, but come with me on a journey you will never forget. Colin, a man in his thirties, hovered over a smallish bed, still harboring a child deep in slumber and buried in a ripple of blankets. Did you not hear me? Colin said. We’re going to see the king. The child’s eyes finally showed life as they peeked open ever so gently.

We’re really going?! said Kip, the little bright-eyed seven-year-old boy.

Tonight is the festival, Colin said. We have to leave now or we won’t make it in time. Kip was suddenly wide awake and hopping out of bed with endless kid-energy and enthusiasm. He gathered a child’s typical party favors for a day’s travel to the festival of festivals: a toy figurine of a knight on a horse, a half loaf of fresh bread, and a wooden sword. Colin watched and smiled at Kip’s excitement.

Hurry, father, we don’t want to be late! Kip gushed to Colin.

Colin and Kip walked up a dirt road that winded around a tall mountain. The sun was setting in the distant sky. In one hand, Kip twirled his wooden sword like he was a brave warrior marching into battle, and with the other hand, he chewed on his half loaf like a king.

Father, what will we do first when we get there? Kip eagerly asked.

Let me see, Colin pondered. There’ll be a smorgasbord of the most delicious foods, anything your stomach desires will be—

Like apple pie?!

Of course, Colin said. And there’ll be games for kids to play—

Will they have Starblade?! Kip gleefully hoped.

Well, that’s not really a child’s game, Colin said, instantly deflating Kip’s joy. But the greatest Bladers in the realm will be competing tonight in the Champions Clash Tournament.

Can we go, Father?! Kip begged, working his puppy-dog eyes on his father.

Well, let us see, Colin grinned. If you can tell me why we have this celebration every year, then I shall take you to the Starblade tournament.

Kip sparkled with a confident eagerness. He knew this—at least he thought he knew it. We celebrate the anniversary of when the great King Silas defeated tens of thousands of Milak warriors and destroyed their wicked ice queen.

Very good, son, Colin approved. Every year on this night, the three kingdoms honor those brave men who fought and died for our freedom.

Tribute to the men we lost and the freedom we gained! Kip proudly recited.

Ahh, yes, Colin smiled. Those famous words.

What happened to King Silas? Kip asked with an innocent gaze.

Some say he was killed by a mysterious sorcerer. Others say he was murdered by his closest friend. And there are even whispers that he still lives, somewhere out there like a ghost in the shadows.

What do you believe, Father? Kip curiously asked.

I believe he will always be alive in our hearts, Colin said. He united the three kingdoms and its great kings. They are still unified to this day, although most see King Isler of Featherbrook as a false king and only a placeholder until a true Halifax heir returns to the throne.

My favorite king is King Vexodus, Kip said.

You should tell him that when you meet him, Colin said.

I’m going to meet the king? Kip glowed.

You can’t go to Kilaseed without meeting its king, Colin said as his eyes suddenly shifted to the evening sky behind the mountain road they were traveling. Bright flashes of light glowed through the trees from the far-side valley, and booming drums pulsed like a gentle wind. We must hurry—the fireworks have already begun!

Colin and Kip sprinted to the mountaintop to see the glorious fireworks display! They instantly stopped at an overlook-clearing with a perfect view to Kilaseed City. It was like nothing they had ever seen before. Spheres of fire the size of barrels vaulted through the air—and exploded on the castle walls! The city was adorned in orange flames. People everywhere shouting. Running. Screaming. The world below looked like the belly of hell.

Colin stooped low to not be seen. Kip did the same after his father’s urging him. They watched in terror as thousands of battle-clad Milak warriors ravaged the Courtyard. The commander of this flesh-hungry horde was Malicore. He stood at least a foot taller than any Milak among them, and his immensely chiseled frame made even the bulkiest of warriors look puny in his presence. Malicore led the army with only an axe and no shield. He trudged through fire without fear en route to the castle. Two Milak bowmen marched alongside him, and the thousands strong army, twenty paces behind them.

Two knights charged Malicore in defense of their kingdom, but the beastly Milak didn’t even raise his axe as he slammed one aside with his heavily spiked wrist-guard, and seamlessly caught the second knight by the throat and lifted him to eye-level. Malicore watched hollowly as he choked the human until his body dangled like a puppet in his hand. He tossed him aside and moved on.

Malicore scanned a sentry post on the castle wall—an archer was waiting for them to get in range. Without stopping or saying a word, Malicore pointed to the tower… and then one of his bowmen let fly an arrow into the night air. The tower archer instantly dropped out of sight! Another watchman was in a tower to his right, and again, without a peep, Malicore pointed… and an arrow was fired. Malicore suddenly halted his progression toward the castle with little more than fifty paces to the gates. He looked back slightly to the massive force anxiously awaiting his command. A swift rise of his hand high into the air set free the eager horde of warriors. The flock widened across the Courtyard and charged in like a pack of wild beasts! Malicore stood still as the horde raced past him in a mad frenzy. A faint smile shed across his otherwise malice gaze. Haunting cries of women and children echoed through the chilly air. The city was overrun and swarming with crazed Milak—and Malicore was reveling every second of it.

Colin and Kip watched homes in the distant city boundaries ruin in flames one at a time. The Milak used swords as their opening act, but for their encore, they sunk their fetid teeth and claws into the flesh of the sufferers. The screams of the horrified civilains only attracted more Milak to their position.

Finally, an army of soldiers arrived to defend the innocent and protect their kingdom. The green armor-wearing brotherhood of the realm quickly lined up in front of the castle, desperate to form some resemblance of an organized resistance. But their numbers were few—and their buoyancy clearly absent. This wasn’t a city built for war. But the Milak gave no mercy. Malicore sent a nod to one of his companions—and a loud horn instantly sounded from his position! Within minutes, the rest of the Milak horde regrouped from pillaging the city and built a wall around their leader. Fear filled the eyes of the men—and rightfully so. One-hundred soldiers were little match for nearly five-thousand Milak, but even against those odds, the men did not waver from the dubious task that stood before them. They were the last line of defense and needed to draw the Milak army away from the surrounding homes of the innocent, long enough to give some a chance to escape with their lives. The men also were there to give their king and his family time to make a getaway to safer lands. Their people and their livelihood would still have a pulse as long as the king of Kilaseed lived.

The warrior horde surrounded the men and cut off any route of escape. Those brave soldiers knew what was about to happen—and they accepted their fates. They bonded close together as more Milak walled them in. There was no clear leader amongst the men, and the lack of direction showed as the soldiers had no true strategy other than to stand in front of the enemy assault.

The Milak army howled into the night like jungle-beasts, ready to feast on the soldiers that stood between them and the stronghold. They cared not of these men or their families. The only thing of substance to them was revenge. The Milak species had been in hiding for more than twenty years after their defeat at the Red Plains, and now they were back for vengeance.

Feast on their bones! Malicore roared. The Milak violently charged in. The soldiers held firm their swords and shields, ready for the inevitable. And as the Milak rumbled closer, the men knew this was the last time they would ever see the world through living eyes. Milak fiercely crashed into the shields of men! Wicked shrieks echoed throughout the kingdom as soldiers wilted to the evil horde. The battle was over instantly. The hearts of these men were tested—and they all passed. When they could’ve run and saved themselves—they didn’t. When no one would’ve questioned their allegiances to a fallen kingdom—they stayed. When they could’ve abandoned their oaths in a time when the city’s fate was already set—they stood strong. And when death stared them directly in their eyes—they thought little of themselves. Instead, they were completely devoted to those who might still escape if given more time. But that time was gone, and the disease that invaded their land now spread even deeper into the kingdom.

A frightened man looked out one of the castle windows… and the Courtyard-crowded Milak roared and screamed back at him in mockery! The castle door was sealed, but this army wasn’t leaving until they breached the palace. At the back of the fleet, four Milak trudged through, carrying a large, heavy log to the castle entrance—their version of a battering-ram. Inside the castle, King Vexodus stood close to the main entrance. The loud crashing sound of the Milak horde busting open the wooden door rang vibrant within the large halls. The city had been lost, and his people were either dead or absent from the remaining carnage. His men gave him time to flee and save his family’s name, but he chose to stay and face the evil which brought this catastrophe on him and his land. Now, his only hope to survive was the strength of a door he was deeply focused on. But he knew it was only a matter of time before they busted through.

Bastian! Vexodus shouted at the top of his lungs.

A tender-built man promptly scampered into the room. Yes, King Vexodus? Bastian softly answered.

Get my sword! he commanded.

Right away, sir! Bastian said as he began to hurry away.

Wait a moment, Bastian, Vexodus reconsidered, stopping him in is tracks. After you’ve returned with my sword, you must get to Featherbrook City and warn them of this uprising! They will not be caught blind and unprepared as we have!

As you wish, Bastian answered. But you should come, too, sir. The city is lost. There’s no reason for you to stay.

They’ve come for me, Vexodus said as he looked fixedly upon the shaking door with a haunting, devilish glare. And I mean not to disappoint them. If they think killing a king will be easy…

But there are thousands of them! Bastian urged him.

Sometimes our death speaks louder than the life we lived before it, Vexodus said with a hint of regret. The door was splitting, and Milak were reaching through!

I’ll return with your sword, sir! Bastian hurried away. But just as he disappeared, a loud cry echoed from the next room, followed by noise of a struggle… and then it became jarringly silent. Vexodus knew what just happened. He grimly turned around… and there stood two Milak with blood smeared across their armor.

You vile beasts! he madly shouted. You’ve crossed the line, and I assure you your penalty will be death! Both Milak disregarded his words with smirks on their faces as they lurked closer to him. Your city will burn for this! Mark my words! Your city will burn! One of the Milak’s eyes strayed beyond Vexodus. Suddenly, an axe abruptly sunk into King Vexodus’ back! He bellowed out a loud howl as the axe was forced through his body and split out of his chest!

They’re marked, a raspy voice coldly answered from behind him. Vexodus slowly turned around. Vexodus was tall, and he had to look up to stare into the eyes of his assassin. The armor Malicore wore was bulky and spike-covered. His eyes were hollow without remorse, and he was the most intimidating thing that Vexodus had ever laid eyes on.

Who are you? Vexodus managed to garble out as he gasped for air.

Your dying wish is to know your executioner? Malicore replied. Vexodus just stared at the large creature, for he had no more energy left in him to utter anything further. My name is irrelevant. I am but an arm of my queen. If evil has a name… it is she! She is your killer. And she will rise again—and own this world your kind erroneously have claimed! he raged. Vexodus abruptly collapsed at Malicore’s feet as the last speck of life drained from him. Malicore grabbed the handle of his axe and viciously ripped it from Vexodus’ body. He reached inside the opening left by the blade… and pulled out a life crystal. He then stood on a balcony and gazed upon his army. One king is dead! he snarled into the night as he raised the crystal high above his head for all to see. The army roared in approval!

King Vexodus’ body transformed from that of a man in his thirties to an old withered corpse which looked to have been there for centuries. Malicore and the other Milak vacated the kingdom, leaving Vexodus’ remains on the castle floor.

What do we do?! Kip whispered in a frightened panic.

We stay still, and let them pass, Colin said softly as they watched the Milak horde march over the Courtyard to a large building which served as a city hall. They lit the building on fire and stood around to watch it burn. Screams and cries of hundreds of people resonated from inside. Colin turned his eyes away because he knew there was nothing he could do to help them. Smoke and fire filled the night. A city was dead.

CHAPTER 2

To Save Her

Voss stood in his chamber, fixed on the wall in front of him. A mirror, which normally was positioned to conceal the existence of a hidden room, was off to the side, and a dark opening, with barely a flicker of light bouncing back through, was exposed. Knowing that the situation had now changed, Voss slowly walked to the shadowy cavity. He stepped inside. The room was lit by torches along the inner walls. Voss peered to the left, certain of what he’d find. His eyes were quickly drawn to a decoration on the stone wall. One sword rested in its proper place with the torchlight dancing off the green blade, exhibiting all of its magnificence, including Crown of the Halifax Lords inscribed across the blade’s center. But the real draw in the room was the absence of a matching set—a second sword was missing.

Voss rounded the hobbit-sized room and put out the torches. The area fell dark. Voss returned to the light of his chamber and felt his throat tighten up before he bellowed, Seal it up! Two soldiers rushed in and pulled the massive door shut with all their strength. They replaced the large, heavy mirror over the opening as if a secret room was never there. The lone sword was left to rest once again. I pray the next time we open this hole will be to destroy the weapon once and forever. The two soldiers who closed the hole left the room. Voss gazed upon his chamber with uncertainty of what was coming, but in the immediate he sensed a set of eyes looking him over.

What will become of this kingdom and its people now that you’ve unleashed the sword? a voice called out. It was Ian Conn standing behind Voss. It was he who was gazing a hole in the back of Voss with distraught eyes. That kind of power shouldn’t be left to one man, Ian soured. That kind of power shouldn’t be freed at all. Voss walked down a hallway with the other green-bladed sword, the one missing from the wall, nestled in his palms. You can’t allow this to happen, Voss!

Voss’ usual firm demeanor was noticeably weakened as Ian’s words ran through him. What am I supposed to do? Voss broke down. It’s my daughter.

Ian lowered his head and nodded. She’s but one person. What about everyone else? What are they supposed to do?

They’re supposed to do as you’re supposed to do, Voss said firmly as he regained his composure. Believe.

Tell me what I’m supposed to believe in, Ian snorted.

Believe in me—and believe in each other, Voss said. Without each other, the darkness of this nightmare will never end.

Even if it means a bitter end to the world? Ian soured.

I trust Gavin, Voss said.

Well I don’t! Ian harshly returned.

Voss continued through the Great Hall. They’re all waiting, Voss said as he moved to castle exit. Ian stooped at a castle window overlooking the Courtyard—and saw a small gather of people below. He gazed over them momentarily and then followed Voss outside.

Ayden stood alongside his horse and gear, eager for Voss and Ian to get to him. Balnor was next to Ayden, and at their feet rested a body draped in white linens. Ayden’s hand did not waver from the body until Voss stood directly in front of him. Voss stretched out his arms… and offered Ayden the green sword. Ayden instantly felt an amazing sensation when his eyes fully grasped the beauty of the sword. He couldn’t explain the stirring inside him as the blade glistened in the sunlight. Right then, Ayden knew this was no ordinary weapon. Somehow, he was drawn to it.

Ian stayed back from the three men and observed from a distance. No one said anything. They all just looked at the mystifying sword—and to each other, not knowing what was going to happen. Gavin rode in on a grand gray horse and hopped off before the sword was placed in Ayden’s open arms.

This sword is your key, Ayden, Gavin explained. It is yours. It’s been here in the city all these years waiting for you to claim it.

Why haven’t you told me of this before? Ayden inquired, feeling slightly deceived.

It wasn’t time for you to take that step in your journey, Gavin replied as he sensed Ayden’s displeasure.

Ayden became nervous of the blade, just inches from his grasp, and so he looked to Gavin. A nod back from his mentor gave him strength. He was grateful that Gavin trusted him with this, but he wasn’t quite sure himself if he was ready. It didn’t matter, though, as he knew there was no turning back. Too much was at stake, so he reached out to Voss and put one hand around the handle of the sword, and his other hand underneath the tip of the blade to support its weight. An electrifying rush jolted through his veins, leaving him woozy. He felt infused with a feeling of which he couldn’t explain, but he was certain he was changed. Everyone watched him with angst, waiting for something to happen—but nothing did, at least not visibly. Ayden looked as if he was in a trance, his eyes obsessed on the blade.

Ayden, are you alright? Gavin softly asked. But Ayden didn’t answer or waver his fixation on the sword. He began to raise the sword up over his head. Everyone became defensive and swords were unleashed, not knowing what he was about to do!

Ayden! Are you still with us?! Ian asked more prominently.

What? Ayden screeched. I’m just putting it away, he quickly added and swiftly buried the blade inside the scabbard on his back. Everyone relaxed once the sword was safely hidden—but they still looked on him with a backward lean. I’m fine, he assured them, even though he didn’t feel fine. Ayden shrugged off his interest of the blade once he let go of its handle.

What makes you certain he’s ready? Ian asked.

Gavin looked at Ayden for a long moment and cracked a smile. I can see it in his eyes, he said with confidence.

So mankind’s fate is decided by the sparkle in his eyes? Ian grumbled. Look at me, Gavin. What are my eyes saying?!

Enough! Voss ordered.

I don’t need to explain to you why I believe, Gavin said. The sword is his. It belongs to the Halifax Lords. Are there any other Halifax Lords present? The company was silent. Ian scoffed but still said nothing.

Ian, are you coming, too? Balnor innocently asked.

I can’t fight for this, Ian said. No matter how deep it cuts, one man’s pain should never destroy an entire city. Think about what you’re doing, Ayden. Once the enemy has the sword—it’s over. There will be no more tomorrows, and not just for Isabel—for everyone! If the Milak would bring so much destruction just to get the sword, what do you think they’ll do once they have it?

You sound a lot like my wife, Balnor grumbled. She doesn’t believe in yes or no answers either.

I thought I was going alone, Ayden said as he realized Balnor was accompanying him.

Silas was clear in saying that you must come to Mount Baseril alone, Gavin pointed out. So you must be by yourself when you cross the mountain. But as long as there is life in me, you will never be alone.

Think of what you’re doing, kid! Ian pleaded. Once Silas has that sword, he’ll be unstoppable! And this city will be helpless against another attack!

Ayden stared at the covered body resting atop a horse next to him. Isabel died because of me. I have a chance to set things right, Ayden said softly. If there’s a way to return life to her, I’ll do whatever needs to be done.

Ian turned his attention to Voss. Once the sword is lost, there won’t be a future for her or any of us, Ian appealed. Voss, I beg you one last time. Don’t see this through!

Voss took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was clearly torn apart. I have not the strength to deny this journey. She’s my little girl. Voss then opened his eyes and looked strongly at Ian. It’s my Isabel, he softly said, appearing weaker by the moment as his thoughts of her overwhelmed him. Voss faintly nodded in approval to Ayden.

I’ve cast a spell on her body to ensure it will stay pure for the duration of our journey, Gavin said. Silas has given us seven days to bring the sword to him.

And if we don’t? Ian coldly asked.

He said he would burn the city to ash, Gavin said.

Then we’re wasting time, Ayden said as he hopped atop the horse with Isabel’s body.

So this is it? Ian quipped. The fate of the world goes with you? Ian turned away in disgust. But he paused before leaving. You have a strong heart, kid. Even when it’s broken—it’s strong. I… I know that pain. Ian fought back his tears. I don’t know if we’ll meet again, so… good luck.

Ayden looked back one last time at Ian leaving them. I will return, he said. But even as his words were strong, in truth he was uncertain of what would become of the world. He had the weight of a city and an entire race on his shoulders. But he felt a hollow heart resting in his chest, urging him to do whatever he could to save the girl he loves.

Balnor and Gavin joined Ayden, and they rode away on the dirt road through the city gates. Voss watched alone as the three gradually disappeared over the hillside and into the forest. And softly to himself, Voss uttered, Please save my Isabel.

I’m glad you believe, Ian uttered from five feet behind Voss.

I thought you left, Voss replied without looking back.

What if the sword changes him? Ian questioned. What if he becomes our enemy?

Then our only chance would be to destroy the two swords, Voss said.

Why wait? Destroy them now and end the threat, Ian pleaded.

The power of the swords can only be undone when the Halifax Lords are no more, Voss recited. If this quest is unsuccessful, the Halifax bloodline must be hunted down and killed. All of them.

And who’s gonna do that? Ian grumbled.

It has already been taken care of, Voss revealed.

* * * * *

Aeron Isler fastened a pack full of supplies onto the back of a horse outside his small timber dwelling. Once everything was situated and accounted for, he promptly hopped atop the steed and settled into the leather saddle. Ready to move out, he briefly hesitated and glanced back to his home. And there she stood. Joslin stared back at him with tears streaming down her sad, rosy cheeks.

There’s no need for tears, my love, he tried easing her.

You mustn’t go! she begged. I won’t be able to survive if you don’t return. And not knowing whether you’re all right will torture my soul.

If there’s even the smallest chance that Isabel… you know I must try. Aeron guided his horse closer to her. My father has requested it of me. But I would’ve gone no matter what. Just please promise me you won’t worry while I’m away.

How can I not? Joslin said as her tears welled up more rapidly. Aeron stepped off his horse and held out his hand. Joslin met him and he guided her inside their dwelling. From a cupboard, Aeron pulled out an old iron candleholder that looked like it had been passed down for far too many generations. He placed it in an open window facing the direction of his road.

The winds will tell you of my journey, he said to her. As long as the candle stays lit, that means all is well.

And if it blows out? she asked, already certain of the answer.

It won’t, he assured her as he gently fingered through those beautiful red curls which dangled down to her shoulders, masking her large, blissful eyes. He stared into them and smiled. They always warmed his heart. He noticed around her neck was a green gem necklace. It wasn’t the shiniest or most luxurious of jewels. In fact, it looked rather frugal. Aeron’s face cringed with regret. You know, I’m going to get you a better one. I just haven’t saved up enough yet.

She clinched the gem tight as if he were going to tear out her heart. I love it, she said. I won’t have another.

Aeron smiled. You make it look beautiful. You make everything beautiful. And he leaned in and kissed her. When their lips broke free, they stared each other over like it was their first kiss—like it was the best kiss they ever tasted. Then Aeron left. It was just too tough to draw it out any longer.

Joslin watched him and missed him all the way to his horse. But if the candle does blow out? she insisted he say it.

Aeron took a final glance at her. Then just know that I’ve loved you with every ounce of me. I always have. I always will.

Joslin swallowed hard, put on a fake smile and tried to be strong for him. She held back the tears that would surely gush once he was out of her sight. A goodbye smile was the final parting gift he offered. As Aeron raced down an empty street of Featherbrook, Joslin feared it may be the last moment they shared. Within seconds he was gone. And Joslin quickly lit that candle in the window.

CHAPTER 3

A Battle’s End is Merely a War’s Exhale

The Black Castle at the head of the Milak realm was barely visible amid a furious blizzard. Snow twisted around the outer walls of the dark kingdom as two figures weathered their way to the entrance. The massive doors opened only for a moment, and then quickly sealed shut. Cage and a Milak warrior carried a lifeless body up a stairway, lit only by torches along the wall. At the top, Silas and Joveras stood there, waiting. Cage and the Milak placed the body on the floor. Silas was instantly concerned with Cage, noticing his head wrapped with a blood-soaked cloth.

What happened to you? Silas agitatedly asked, rushing to his aid.

Cage disregarded his wounds and waved off any help Silas offered. It’s nothing—I’ll be fine. Cage motioned down to the dead body beside his feet—Devin’s corpse. He, on the other hand, cannot say the same.

Silas knelt down to the cold body and examined it. The one who did this, is he dead? Silas fumed.

No, Cage softly answered, lowering his head in shame. He still lives… He bested me. He could’ve killed me as well… but he spared my life. The lone Milak in the room, Joveras, briefly examined the body. It wasn’t one of his warriors, so he wasn’t as troubled.

Is this the human we were looking for? Joveras asked.

No, he is not the one, Silas grimly replied. He was with me.

With you? Joveras suspiciously questioned. Why have you not told me of this human before?

If I had told you that I had a spy within the city, would it have made any difference? Silas proposed.

Joveras and his tall, slender frame paced angrily around Silas, intently focused on him with an impious stare that would’ve torn through the souls of most men. But Silas—he wasn’t most men. He was the intimidator, never the intimidated. He sent a shivering glare right back at Joveras—one which briefly staggered the Milak. But then again, Joveras wasn’t a warrior. He was merely an ambassador to the queen.

You should not keep things from me, forgotten king, Joveras heatedly warned as he regained his composure. The fate of your family depends on your cooperation. Bringing someone back to life has a cost. You agreed, remember? Silas instantly felt his blood boiling, and the thought of unleashing his sword on Joveras was hard to disregard. Joveras seemingly always relied on this form