CHAPTER 254: EVE OF RUIN

Caius stood at the flat apex of the great basalt ziggurat, his cloak whipping in the dry mountain wind as he stared past the outer valley toward the endless, shadowed forest stretching across the horizon. The three weeks had bled away in a flurry of blood, sweat, and forced cultivation, and now the air itself tasted thick with the metallic tang of approaching calamity. A flash of white light cut through the bruised sky as the Eclipsed Tri-Ocular Sovereign descended, its talons locking onto Caius’s shoulder while its golden eyes spun and shifted before letting out a harsh, gravelly screech that echoed off the ancient stone.

"Nerathil! Nerathil! Caw! Caw!"

Caius’s gaze narrowed because through the crow's shared vision, he saw them as a sprawling, writhing sea of crimson chitin and shadow, snapping trees like dry twigs as the frontline of seventy-five thousand monstrosities breached the outer boundaries of the valley. They intended to use the dense canopy as cover for a sudden, brutal night assault, but Caius had other plans.

"Not on my watch," Caius muttered.

With a sharp ripple of distorted air, Caius vanished using Moonless Step and reappeared instantly miles away, hovering high in the sky directly above the edge of the dense forest. Looking down at the dark, sprawling woodland that blocked the valley’s sightlines, Caius raised his right arm and swept his hand across the horizon as his Crown Core flared with terrifying intensity. A wave of blinding, white-gold solar fire erupted from his palm like a tidal wave of star-matter, cascading down onto the treeline.

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BOOM!

The blaze consumed the forest in seconds, atomizing millions of ancient trees, twisted roots, and blighted underbrush into drifting white ash before the flames could even produce smoke. In a single stroke, Caius erased the entire woodland, transforming the treacherous terrain into a flat, open kill-zone where no Nerathil could hide, flank, or ambush. Hovering over the smoldering plain, Caius’s voice thundered back toward the valley city with divine resonance.

"Tomorrow, the Nerathil arrive," his command echoed over the plains. "Prepare for war!"

The response was instantaneous, as deep, guttural war horns blew from the parapets, their calls answered by the thunderous, rhythmic booming of war drums that shook the mountain roots. The combined forty-six thousand solar-attuned soldiers moved into position, locking ranks and sharpening weapons as the entire city transformed into a living fortress. Walking through the inner thoroughfares of the city, White Bones observed the frantic preparations where warding talismans laced with crude sun-glyphs were being hung over doorways and etched into shields everywhere he looked.

As he passed a group of young Æthrynn warriors kneeling in brief prayer, the old assassin paused because one of the soldiers was pressing a small, hand-carved stone idol tightly against his chest. White Bones squinted beneath his ivory cowl, recognizing that the small figurine was meticulously carved in the likeness of a young man holding dual blades, complete with a silver-black stud on his forehead. White Bones shook his cowl softly, and a low, dry chuckle rattled in his throat.

The battle for the realm had not even begun, and already, their mortal hands were carving the icons of his master into sacred stone.