CHAPTER 250: THE NERATHIL

Before Caius could reach the apex of the massive ziggurat, the heavy woven cotton curtain covering the temple entrance parted. The elder king, whose slate-gray skin was heavily carved with gold-inlaid warding scars and whose brow was adorned with a crude crown of woven mountain silver, hurried down the monolithic basalt steps. Without waiting for Caius to step inside, the king dropped straight to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cold stone floor.

Caius let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Please, rise."

The king stood, his dark, tear-filled eyes wide with reverence. Recognizing Nyzekh and Bruga trailing behind, the king offered them a brief, solemn nod before ushering the party into the innermost sanctuary.

The interior of the pyramid was vast and cool, illuminated by flickering braziers of burning white copal resin. At the far end stood a carved basalt stone throne resting beneath a grand bas-relief of a blazing sun. Without hesitation, the king led Caius straight to the dais, insisting the savior take the highest seat in the hall.

Caius sat down reluctantly. Instantly, every Æthrynn elder lining the hall dropped to their knees, praising the sun god who had descended to save their people.

Caius shot a sideways glance at White Bones. The old assassin stood rigidly beside the throne, holding his breath so hard his ivory cowl trembled, biting his lip to suppress a burst of raspy laughter.

If my Seraph summon shows up right now, what on earth will they think? Caius thought dryly, wiping the ridiculous image from his mind before his ego could take hold. He raised his hand. "Rise, all of you."

The elders stood in eager silence as Caius withdrew a glowing memory crystal from his ring. Tapping its side, a crystal-clear projection materialized in the air, a floating, lifelike image of his mother. The Æthrynn gasped in unison, marveling at the projection as if it were a divine relic.

"Have any of you seen this woman?" Caius asked.

The king and elders examined the face closely, but the king shook his head regretfully. "No, Great Savior. We have not."

Caius suppressed his disappointment and tapped the crystal again, shifting the image to the grotesque, twisted form of a Mordrakh.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelPhoenix. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

A wave of violent, palpable hatred instantly flooded the hall. The Æthrynn elders hissed, black veins bulging along their gray necks as hands gripped obsidian-edged weapon hafts and axe handles.

"Why such hatred?" Caius asked.

An elder pointed toward a massive, soot-stained mural carved along the temple's eastern wall. The relief depicted a colossal, burning archway, a Red Gate, and emerging from it were Mordrakhs leading ranks of the Red Horde.

"Hundreds of years ago," the king spoke, his voice heavy with grief, "the Mordrakhs breached our outer valley. They took half our city's population and dragged them back through the Red Gate where the horde originates. Every cycle, they hunt us, driving our people here for slaughter."

Caius's eyes darkened. Beside the throne, White Bones' amused demeanor vanished, replaced by a grim scowl.

"Do you have more information on these Mordrakhs?" Caius pressed.

"Only that they came through the gate during the Great War, ravaging the land alongside the horde," the king replied. "Every cycle they return to hunt us."

Nyzekh stepped forward from the back of the hall. "My master may be able to answer your questions regarding them, Lord Caius."

Caius turned to the Virak'tai Warden. "Where is your master?"

"Beyond the realm's main dimensional gate," Nyzekh answered. "We are trapped because the gate shut down during the artifact explosion. If my Lord can examine and repair it, my master will have the answers you seek."

"And how are you so sure your master knows them?" Caius asked.

Nyzekh's eyes hardened with conviction. "My master didn't fight them personally, but he inherits an ancient legacy with vast, unbroken knowledge of the First Gate War. He knows the red horde beasts are the true threat, the Nerathil. And those Mordrakhs you search for? They are merely slaves of the Nerathil."

Caius remained completely silent, letting the gravity of the warden's words settle in the quiet hall.

Suddenly, a gust of cool mountain wind swept through the high trapezoidal windows of the pyramid. A streak of brilliant white light swooped down from the shadowed vaulted ceiling, landing lightly on Caius's shoulder. The Eclipsed Tri-Ocular Sovereign shifted its talons, its golden eyes flashing as it let out a sharp, piercing cry.

"Caw! Caw!"

A wave of raw vision transferred instantly into Caius’s mind from the white crow’s aerial recon. Caius slowly blinked, his expression turning icy dark.

"White Bones," Caius spoke quietly, his voice cutting through the hall. "We stirred up the hornet's nest."

White Bones straightened beside the throne, his posture stiffening. "Why, my Lord?"

"Our purge didn't scatter them," Caius replied, his eyes narrowing as he processed the crow's vision. "The Nerathil are mustering. Over seventy-five thousand are already gathering at the edge of the valley, and thousands more are converging from every corner of this realm. It is a full army on the march, and they will be at our gates in more or less three weeks."

Beside the throne, White Bones' face turned deathly grave.