The Ties That Bind

Dayne kept still as the boat came to a stop, bobbing in the waves. The residual, bittersweet smell of orange peel from the empty crates stacked beside him filled his nostrils, reminding him of home. He wrapped his arms across his chest, knotting his fingers in the sleeves of his soaked shirt. He wanted, desperately, to create heat for himself, but he dared not move any more than he had to for fear the tarp covering him might shift unnaturally.

It had not been too difficult to get out of Stormshold. He had waited six days. Three for the next orange shipment to arrive and then another three as he waited for the crew with the woman who had damaged her leg. Once Mera had distracted the crew, he had swum through the water and scaled the outer hull of the ship, sliding beneath a tarp that covered some of the empty orange crates. The only flaw in the plan was that his clothes had been soaked through for the entire journey, and the harsh winds had set a shiver in his bones.

The hustle and bustle of the port filled the air and the deck of the ship creaked and groaned as the crew set about fastening its moorings. But still, Dayne waited for Mera's signal.

A few moments passed, then he heard her.

"Many thanks, Olem. The passage was most appreciated. Sometimes you just need to get back ashore without everyone knowing. May The Warrior and The Sailor both, watch over you."

"It honours me, Wyndarii, to have you aboard my vessel. We set sail again in three days' time. Will you be honouring us once more?"

Wyndarii, the old title of the Wyvern riders. That word had not been common since before Dayne's father's time.

"I believe so, Olem. Now is the time…"

Now is the time. Dayne clenched his jaw, fighting back the cramp that had begun to set into his muscles, and readied himself. He didn't hear anything else Mera said as he cleared his mind. Three, two, one.

Slipping under the tarp where it connected to the side rail of the ship, Dayne threw himself over the edge. The light from the morning sun was like fire in his eyes as he caught sight of the crate Mera had 'accidentally' knocked overboard to conceal his landing. Less than a second, then splash.

He let out an involuntary gasp as the water engulfed him, its icy touch sliding over his skin, knocking the air from his lungs.

Filling his lungs once again, Dayne plunged back into the water, sweeping his arms and kicking his legs, creating as much distance between himself and the ship as he could. When he was far enough away, he removed his clothes, leaving them to float, then set off for an empty section of the port to his left, where the docks gave way to the sandy beach. It was easier to swim without the drag of clothes, and Mera had dry ones for him anyway. Before they had left, they had decided the least conspicuous thing would be for it to seem as though Dayne was simply an overly enthusiastic winter swimmer. It wasn't his favourite plan, but it served its purpose.

Reaching the wooden jetty that protruded from the port, Dayne heaved himself out of the water, his teeth chattering as the bitter coastal wind swept over him. Even in winter, Valtara tended to be rather warm, but the winds were anything but.

The jetty was empty for the most part, but Dayne received more than a few side-eyed looks from the dockworkers that were going about their morning routines.

"You know there're easier ways to kill yourself than freezing to death, young man?" The man who called to him sat in a shoddy chair, a pipe wedged between his lips and one leg crossed over the other. He looked as though he had seen the better half of eighty summers. His skin was wrinkled and leathery, covered in all variety of Valtaran tattoos, some of which Dayne did not even recognise.

"You speak the truth," Dayne replied, standing in nothing but the skin he was born in. "But nothing easy was ever worth having."

Dayne thought he saw a crooked smile spread across the man's wrinkle-laden face. "Wise words for one so young." As he finished his sentence, his eyes narrowed, and one eyebrow raised. "The Warrior and The Sailor. By blade and by blood, I am yours, son of House Ateres."

It was only as the man spoke his last words that Dayne realised he was staring at the sigil of House Ateres tattooed across the left side of Dayne's chest. Only the direct line of each house bore the marking across their heart. Immediately, Dayne brought his free hand up to his chest, covering the sigil.

Eliciting a creak from the wooden chair, and possibly from his own bones, the man lifted himself to his feet. He was taller than Dayne had expected. "Do not cover that sigil, Dayne of House Ateres."

Dayne's heart stopped for just a moment, a weightlessness setting into his stomach. "How?"

The old man coughed, pulling his hand to his chest. "Well, you are certainly not Baren. Owain was taken too young to have been given the marking. You are not Alina. And your father, Heraya harbour his soul, no longer walks the mortal plains. That leaves only you."

"There you are."

Dayne was both relieved and uneasy at the sound of Mera's voice. The old man's eyes stayed locked on his, unwavering.

"Making friends already, I see," Mera said, drawing up beside Dayne and the old man, a satchel in her hand. As Mera stared at Dayne, a wide grin crept across her face, seeming to reach all the way to her eyebrows. "The water was cold, then?"

Dayne dropped his hand from his chest and instead cupped it around his privates, snatching the satchel from her hand and glaring at her all the while. Wasting no time, he pulled the smallclothes, tunic, trousers, and sandals from the satchel and put them on.

"How long?" the old man asked, turning to Mera as Dayne dressed himself.

"How long what?" Mera raised an eyebrow in curiosity, and Dayne himself stopped with his shirt only half over his shoulders.

"Those scars on your face. I know wyvern scars when I see them. My wife was a Wyndarii."

At the man's words, Mera raised her hand, cupping her fingers over the three claw marks that raked down her face. For the first time since Dayne and Mera had been reunited, he saw a crack in her confidence – and felt a fury towards the old man for putting it there.

"You are like him," the man said, nodding towards Dayne. He reached up with his wrinkled, bony fingers and softly pulled Mera's hand from her face. "You both hide what you should not. You need not smile, nor frown. Those are the whims of emotions, usually born to satisfy the expectations of others. But wear your markings with pride. You have earned them."

It was then that Dayne caught sight of the tattoo on the man's left arm that had previously been hidden by his sleeve. Two wyverns coiled around each other, a spear between them: the symbol of the Valtaran Rebellion.

When Dayne was but a boy, his father had told him of how each soldier who fought for Valtara in the rebellion had gotten that marking on their wrist. It was to be the new emblem of a free Valtara. The man was older than he looked. The original rebellion was over eighty years past. He must have only been a child.

"Come," Mera said, pulling the old man's hand from her face, still clearly rattled by his comments. "We must be on our way."

Dayne nodded, tossing the now empty satchel over his shoulder. He paused for a moment, his gaze meeting the old man's. "Do you regret it?"

A flicker of a smile touched the old man's face. "Not for a second. It is better to die with a sword in your hand than to kneel with a chain around your neck. Go, do what we could not."

Dayne's eyes narrowed. "How do you know what I am going to do?"

"Because you are your father's son." With that, the man turned away, dropped himself back into his chair, put the pipe between his lips, and stared out at the ocean as though Dayne was no longer even there.

"Are you all right?" Dayne asked as he caught up to Mera.

"I'm fine," Mera said, nodding at something ahead of them.

Dayne looked ahead to where the jetty met the port. Lorian soldiers, scores of them. They paraded up and down the port, some garbed in black and red leathers, others in the full ruby-red plate of the Inquisition. "So many…"

"Something tells me there are a lot more we can't see."

As they made their way through the port and out further into the city streets of Skyfell, it was clear that Mera was right. Lorian soldiers marched down every street in groups of four and five, spears in their fists and swords strapped to their belts.

"Alina is going to move today," Mera said, leaning in towards Dayne as they made their way down a particularly busy street.

Dayne stopped, grabbing Mera's shoulder. "Today? I thought we had time?"

"I received a message from some of our people in the city," Mera whispered. "Just after you boarded the ship. Consul Rinda left for Ironcreek last night, and then on towards the Hot Gates. We have reports the empire is sending Battlemages to join the Inquisitor. Consul Rinda and High Lord Loren are gone to welcome them. Alina wants the Inquisitor dead and Skyfell in our hands before that happens."

"Then we need to move faster."

Dayne and Mera weaved through the streets as fast as they could without drawing any unwanted attention to themselves. They were aided by the fact that the streets were jam-packed with people going about their morning routines, buying fresh fish, bread, meat, and cheese for their breakfasts.

After about a half hour of pushing through crowds, they passed the temples of Achyron and Neron, the enormous statues of each god casting long shadows over the street.

"By The Warrior and by The Sailor," Dayne whispered to himself as they passed the temples.

"By blade and by blood," Mera continued.

"I am yours."

A smile spread across Mera's face before she knocked her shoulder into Dayne. "I know you are, Dayne Ateres. You're just lucky that Audin kept my attention all these years."

"Lucky?"

Mera glared at Dayne in response, but he could see the cheeky smile beginning to form at the corner of her mouth.

Once past the temples, it was not long before Dayne and Mera approached the edge of the city, where the keep of Redstone looked out over the Antigan Ocean.

"Perfect," Mera said, the sarcasm evident in her voice. Just as before, two guards flanked the gates of Redstone, surcoats of orange and white draped over their armour. But unlike before, the two guards were accompanied by four men in ruby-red steel plate – Inquisition Praetorians. Aside from the Praetorians who stood by the gate, the plaza in front of Redstone was flooded with imperial soldiers.

"We're not going in this way."

Dayne's sandal scraped off the ground beneath him, sending bits of sandy stone plummeting over the narrow ledge that ran along the back of Redstone and down into the ocean below. "Try not to look down."

"I'm a Wyvern Rider," Mera called from behind him. "A fear of heights doesn't last long."

Dayne laughed as he shimmied along the ledge. He, Baren, and Alina had used the old hidden passage many a time when they were children. It was always helpful when trying to escape whatever chores Marlin had tried to assign them. None outside of House Ateres knew of its existence. The ledge that led to the passage was little more than a few handspans wide, with just enough room for someone to move along with their back pressed against the stone. If you didn't know it was there, it was near impossible to see as it ran along the edge of the cliff, facing out towards the Antigan Ocean.

"How much longer?" Mera called out, exhaustion permeating her voice.

Dayne lifted his hand, wiping the sweat from his brow. Even in the height of winter, Valtara was warmer than most nations in Epheria, especially there at the side of the cliff, the sun beaming down over them. "Not much further."

It took no more than five minutes before the familiar cave mouth came into view. From the ocean, it looked like nothing more than a small alcove born naturally into the rock. But Dayne knew better than that.

He let out a large breath as he stepped into the considerably wider space of the alcove, throwing his hands behind his head in an attempt to let more air into his lungs. "You see?" he said, panting as Mera stepped from the ledge. "I told you it wasn't much further."

"Where does this lead?" Mera asked, reaching into her satchel to produce a steel water bottle wrapped in a leather skin. She drank deeply from it, then passed it to Dayne.

"It leads up to a passage that sits behind a bookcase in my father's old study."

"Baren's study."

Dayne nodded, wiping the excess water from his lip and passing the bottle back to Mera. "We need to move. Alina will already be inside. I hope we're not too late."

Breathing deep, Dayne drew himself to his full height and pressed on, Mera following close behind. The roof of the cave drew lower as they stepped further into it, as though it were closing off into the ground. Dayne bent over double as he walked, getting lower and lower until eventually he lay on the flat of his stomach, the loose rocks scraping him through his thin shirt.

"You couldn't have made it a little bigger?" Mera asked, sliding along on her belly behind him.

Dayne laughed, coughing as he swallowed a bit of rock dust. "It opens up ahead."

Just as he spoke, Dayne could hear the whistle in the air as it filtered through the tight space ahead of him. It was near impossible to see, as his and Mera's bodies blocked out the light from the sun, but he pulled himself along the ground, sliding until he felt the roof begin to lift. In a matter of moments, the roof had pulled up enough for Dayne to get to his knees, then to his feet, until eventually he was standing upright.

The chamber was bathed in darkness, but he knew it well. Every groove, every inch of rock. Walking over to one of the far walls, he reached out, feeling the touch of wood as he picked a torch up from the sconce in which it sat. He could smell the stench of the cloth wrapped around the torch's head, soaked in rendered cow fat.

"Mera, firestarter?"

He couldn't see her, but Dayne heard Mera drag herself to her feet and pat the dust down from her chest before placing something into his hand: a long piece of flint and a sharp strip of steel specially quenched to produce sparks. He could have used the Spark, pulled on threads of Fire. But with the Inquisitor so close within the keep, it was not worth the risk of detection.

Stepping back, he struck the steel at an angle against the flint, sending a burst of sparks towards the fat-soaked cloth at the end of the torch. The torch erupted in a burst of flames, illuminating the chamber.

"Are you all right?" Dayne asked, turning to Mera; scrapes and cuts from crawling along the rocks decorated her arms.

She raised one eyebrow, as though amused, her eyes moving between Dayne and the cuts on her arms. "Have you even looked at my face?"

Dayne tried not to laugh, but he was powerless. When he stopped laughing, he reached out his hand, resting his thumb on the raised line of scarred flesh that ran over her chin. Scars or no scars, she was still the most breathtaking woman he had ever laid eyes on. "Not for twelve years, and for that, I am sorry."

Mera rested her hand on top of Dayne's and, for a brief moment, he felt at peace.

"Come on," Mera said, pushing Dayne forward, a weak smile flitting across her face. "Or I will tell everyone that Dayne Ateres is nothing but a lovesick puppy."

Reluctantly, Dayne acquiesced. At that moment, the most important thing was reaching Alina before she did anything she would regret.

A single tunnel led from the chamber, bearing upwards at a sharp incline, the ground beneath their feet cut into rough steps. Dayne had forgotten just a how long the tunnel was and how many steps it held. His entire body was dripping with sweat by the time he could see the top, his shirt stuck against his back and chest, and his hair slicked to his head. With a sigh, he stopped, staring towards the top of the staircase.

"Why did you stop?" Mera asked.

"The doorway is open," Dayne replied, his voice a whisper. Alina must have come this way.Please, don't let me be too late. "Extinguish the flame, will you?"

Without a word, Mera reached into her satchel and pulled out a heavy cloth, quickly draping it over the torch to completely engulf the flame in one motion. In an instant, the tunnel went dark, the only light emanating from the open door at the top.

"Are you ready for this?" Mera's hand rested on Dayne's shoulder as she whispered in his ear.

Dayne simply gave a short nod, unsure as to what words would fit the occasion. What did someone say when trying to stop their sister from murdering their brother?

Dayne reached down, removing his sandals – he couldn't risk the sound of his footsteps echoing up the staircase. Mera did the same. Then, slowly, they made their way towards the open door.

Reaching the top of the staircase, Dayne recognised Alina's voice immediately.

"Did you not think this day would come, brother? Did you not think I knew?"

He's alive.

Dayne heard someone spitting, then Baren spoke. "I'm sorry, Alina. I did what I had to do. For you, for the House – for Valtara."

Dayne stepped through the open doorway into Baren's study, his heart racing, his stomach bunched into a ball.

At the other side of the room, Alina stood with her back to Dayne, garbed in dark leather armour enamelled with orange swirls, a short sword strapped to her hip. She loomed over Baren, who was tied to a chair in front of the far wall, upon which he had hung the old Valtaran weapons. Baren's left eye was swollen, his lip was cut in multiple places, and two patches of dried blood ran from his nostrils.

The main door to the study was closed. There was no way for Dayne to tell if anybody outside had any idea what was going on. Dayne reached back, pressing his hands against the top of Mera's chest, mouthing the word 'stay'.

"You did it for me?" Alina hissed, contempt seeping through her voice. "You murdered the father of my child for me? You handed my son, your own nephew, to the empire, to be trained to pull the chains around our neck – for me?" Alina knelt on one knee in front of Baren. "I am your little sister. Does that mean nothing to you? You are meant to protect your family."

"I'm sorry," Baren said, tears streaming down his face. "I made the hard choices, Alina. House Ateres is not what it once was. Loren could swat us like—"

Dayne heard the crunch as the back of Alina's hand cracked Baren in the cheek, spraying blood across the stone floor.

"Enough," Alina said, rising to her feet and pulling her sword free from its scabbard.

"Alina, no."

Alina jerked her head around, her eyes piercing through Dayne. "So, you did come."

"Please," Dayne said, reaching his hands out. "Don't do this. Don't become the monster you despise."

Dayne could see the hesitation, the welling of a tear at the corners of Alina's eyes. "I will become what I have to!"

"Not this way, Alina." Dayne said, stepping closer to Alina. "Never this way."

"He doesn't deserve to bear the name of our House," Alina whispered, a slight shudder in her voice. "He doesn't deserve to sit in our father's chair!"

"You're right," Dayne said, wetting his lips. "He does not deserve to bear the name of House Ateres. But neither do I. Will you kill me too?"

A look of shock spread across Alina's face, a flash of uncertainty. "I…"

Reaching out, Dayne stretched his arms past Alina's sword and placed his hands on her shoulders. "His death will not bring Kal back. It will only add more weight to your already heavy heart. I have not been here for you when you needed me, but let me be here now."

Alina lifted her head, her eyes meeting Dayne's.

"I have killed more people than I would ever dare count. I have killed for money, for purpose, for revenge. Trust me when I say there has not been a life I have taken that has brought me even the slightest shred of happiness. And to kill in this way, with your blood cold in your veins – that stays with you, Alina. It haunts your dreams."

"He killed Kal," Alina whispered, almost to herself, leaning in closer to Dayne. "He might not have been the one who held the blade. But he killed him, Dayne. He took my love from me…"

"I know." Dayne pulled Alina in, wrapping his arms around her. "And he will hold that in his heart until his dying day." After a few moments, Dayne leaned back, looking Alina in the eyes. "The Inquisitor?"

Alina shook her head. "Not yet. He is in a chamber down the hall, guarded by Praetorians."

"Go. The Inquisitor is what's important. And before you argue with me, I know I have no right to tell you what to do. But please, leave Baren to me. My dreams are already haunted."

"He needs to pay for what he's done, Dayne."

"And he will. But right now, you need to do what you came here to do. It is time to set the wheels in motion. It is time for Valtara to be free."

Alina drew in a deep breath then exhaled through her nose, her eyes flitting from Dayne to Baren and back again. Finally, her gaze settling on Dayne, she nodded. "For Valtara."

"For Valtara." Dayne gave a weak smile. It was all he could muster. For as happy as he was to hear those words leave Alina's mouth, he did not look forward to being left alone in the room with his brother.

Turning, Alina knelt in front of Baren, her gaze locked on his. Swifter than Dayne's eyes could follow, she pulled a knife from her belt and drove it down into Baren's leg, plunging the blade to the hilt. Baren screamed as Alina gripped the hilt of the knife and leveraged it to pull herself closer. "You are not my brother. You are not a member of this House. You are not Valtaran. You will walk the emptiness of the void until time itself breaks."

Alina twisted the blade in Baren's leg one more time as she rose to her feet, turning to Dayne. "Do not make me regret this." Alina stared at Dayne with cold eyes, holding his gaze for a few moments before she strode from the room without looking back.

Dayne turned to Mera, who hadn't said a word as she stood at the mouth of the hidden passage. "Mera, go with her, please. I'm sure there will be more guards in the corridors."

Mera reached up, grasping the back of Dayne's head. She placed a kiss on his cheek, then touched her forehead against his. "Be strong."

And then Dayne and Baren were alone.

For what seemed like an eternity, silence hung in the air, thick and dense.

"Do you think you are better than me?" Baren's words rang hollow in Dayne's ears.

Dayne turned, clearing the distance to Baren in two strides, then drove his fist into his brother's face as hard as he could. A sharp pain erupted in his knuckles as they connected with Baren's cheek. Blood splattered over the floor.

His chest trembling with anger, Dayne dragged one of the wooden chairs from beside Baren's desk, placed it in front of his brother, and took a seat. Then, reaching across, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the knife Alina had left buried in Baren's leg, and yanked it free. "No. I know I am not better than you."

"Ah, fuck!"

"Keep pressure on it," Dayne said, ripping a strip off his tunic. Lifting Baren's hand, he wrapped the strip around where the knife had been lodged, pulled tight, and tied it in a knot. "That should hold for now."

Baren's lips moved as though he were going to say something, but his voice seemed to catch in his throat.

"You better speak, and you better speak now."

Baren hesitated for a moment, grimacing as he shifted in the chair. "You weren't here, Dayne. We were alone. With you gone and Father dead, the wolves were at our door. I kept them at bay the best I could, and Marlin was always there for us, but eventually I had no choice. I had to play by their rules. I didn't have Kal killed because it gave me pleasure. And I certainly didn't hand over my nephew for that reason either. High Lord Loren told me that if I didn't do those things, he would string Alina up in the street and have her flogged. Then he would kill her." Dayne could hear the tremble in Baren's voice. "I've seen what happens to the people Loren has flogged. The soldiers strip them naked, then compete to see how much skin they can remove from their backs without killing them. I… I couldn't let that happen to her, Dayne. I couldn't let it happen to this House."

"Why didn't you tell her?"

"I tried. I did, but she didn't have ears for it." Baren let out a sigh, then lifted his chin, looking into Dayne's eyes. "Valtara can't survive another failed rebellion, Dayne. We are still broken from the first one. You saw what happened the last time Aeson Virandr asked our family to lead a rebellion." Baren's eyes began to narrow as he pulled his chair forward, his hands still bound. "Look at us. Look at what they did to the 'Great House Ateres'. Our father is dead. Our mother is dead. We are broken. They made me murder my sister's love." As Baren spoke, his lip trembled, and tears muddied by blood and sweat streamed down his face. "They made me give away my own nephew!"

It was at that moment Dayne saw Baren for what he was: a broken man. The empire had done to him what they had done to Dayne. They'd forced him to choose between his own honour and his family. I let this happen. "I should never have left, Baren. I'm sorry. They gave me as much choice as they did you."

"No, you shouldn't have." Baren shook his head. A bead of blood, sweat, and dirt dripped from his nose. He let out a sigh. "But I understand. I know Alina will never let me live. I don't blame her." Baren's eyes were red and raw as he met Dayne's gaze. "I hate what I've become. I tell myself every day that it is for the greater good. That if I can just keep this House alive… Please, just make it quick."

Tears stung Dayne's eyes as he looked at his brother and saw the broken mess he had become. The simple idea that Baren thought Dayne would even consider taking his own brother's life tore at Dayne's heart, burning like hot coals through his veins. "I'm not going to kill you, Baren. But I will drive a knife through High Lord Loren's heart, after I burn out his eyes." Dayne rose to his feet, his blood boiling, his jaw clenched so hard it burned. "I will kill them all for what they have done. I will drive them from our lands, and I will burn their cities to the ground."

Reaching out to the spark, Dayne drew in threads of Air. It did not matter if the Inquisitor or any other mages he brought with him could sense it. Let them come.

Dayne weaved the threads of Air through the ropes that bound Baren to his chair, pulling them apart. Shakily, Baren rose to his feet, rubbing the raw skin on his wrists.

Dayne ignored his brother. "Do not think that I have forgiven you. Just as I am sure you have not forgiven me," Dayne said, his eyes boring into Baren's. "Neither of us can take back what we have done. But we can atone through our actions. Go. Take the passageway. The farm west of Myrefall. Is it still there?"

Baren nodded.

"Go there. Do not be seen. I will come for you, Baren. And when I do, you will answer my call."

Barren nodded again, holding Dayne's gaze. "What will you do?"

"What you should have done."

Dayne's feet pounded against the floor just as his heart pounded against his ribs. He was not sure if he had made the right decision, letting Baren go, but it was the only decision he could live with.

The sound of horns bellowed through the corridor, joined by the crashing of armoured feet on stone. What has Alina done now?

Within moments, four Lorian soldiers turned the corner to Dayne's left, armed with swords and long, rectangular shields. "You! Stop!"

The men charged down the corridor towards him. They were clearly fresh recruits. They held the swords above their heads, despite the corridor being narrow. They broke rank, lessening their advantage. And they paid no heed to self-preservation. Dayne sighed. He took no pleasure in killing young men. But if he was going to start a war, he was going to have to live with doing horrible things.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, only loud enough for himself to hear. He reached for the Spark, pulling in threads of Fire. But then he released them. The least he could do was give these young men the honour of knowing how they died. He took in a deep breath, then flipped the knife he had taken from Baren's leg into reverse grip.

The first soldier swung his blade, arcing it towards Dayne's head. Lunging forward, Dayne slammed his forearm against the flat of the blade, pinning it to the wall, then drove his knife up through the young man's neck. As the man spluttered and coughed, Dayne kicked him square in the chest, knocking him backward into the soldier behind him.

Pivoting, Dayne turned towards the two other Lorians. The soldier closest to him was still moving and hadn't planted his feet. Throwing all his weight into it, Dayne rammed his shoulder into the soldier's shield. The man slammed against the wall, his head bouncing off the stone with an almighty thump. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell to the floor.

Dayne pushed off his back foot, charging towards the two remaining Lorians. The one nearest to him stumbled backwards. Dayne leapt towards him, seeing the opening. He drove his knife into the man's neck, pulled it back, then rammed it in again. He pushed forward as the soldier fell.

He exchanged blows with the last soldier for a moment or two before driving his knife into the man's sword arm. The soldier cried out, letting his sword drop. Dayne plunged his knife into the side of the man's head.

His chest heaving, Dayne turned. Such arrogance to send young men to war without ever teaching them how to fight. Casting one last glance over the four Lorian soldiers who lay lifeless on the floor, he carried on.

The limp bodies of six Praetorians, blood seeping into the cracks of the floor, marked the chambers of the imperial Inquisitor. Dayne reached out to the Spark before he made for the door, snatching up one of the Praetorian's swords. It was a little unbalanced, too heavy at the pommel. But Dayne wasn't surprised. What did the empire expect when they paid only half a weapon's value to Southern smiths?

The chambers given to the Inquisitor were among the finest Redstone had to offer. Not quite as large as he remembered his father's being, but still lavishly decorated and five times the size of any room Dayne had slept in since he had left the city. An enormous four-poster bed sat against the eastern wall, with a lace curtain hanging from its frame that provided little to no privacy for whoever slept in the bed.

The room was filled with fine art: tapestries, mosaics, oil paintings. But none of those things were what caught Dayne's attention. A body lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, eyes open, lifeless, soaking in its own blood. Thick, ichor-like blood matted the man's blonde hair, soaking into his already red robes.

Beyond the man, standing on the balcony through the archway at the far wall, was Mera, looking out at something over the city.

Dayne's mouth curled into a frown as he looked down at the mage's lifeless body. Would that have been me if they had taken me as a child? Would I have become such a despicable wretch? Pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind, Dayne stepped over the body, careful not to plant his bare feet in the blood.

"Where's Alina?" Dayne asked, stepping out onto the balcony. "Mera? Where's…"

Dayne's voice trailed off as he looked out over the city, every hair on his body standing on end as though he had been struck by lightning.

Wyverns. Hundreds of wyverns. So many they almost cast the entire city in shade. Dayne watched as the powerful creatures swooped down, ripping Lorian soldiers from the streets, tearing them from the city walls. As the wyverns swooped, their riders launched spears from their backs, impaling any who thought to stand and fight.

Before Dayne could speak again, a flash of orange swept past the balcony, followed by an enormous gust of wind that rippled through Dayne's hair. Stepping backward, Dayne looked to the sky, his eyes following the orange wyvern as it soared, its rider pressed down against its back. The creature was almost a half again bigger than Mera's wyvern, Audin. Scales of a deep orange, trimmed with black, covered its body. The creature banked left, tearing through the sky at a fierce speed, turning back towards the balcony upon which Dayne and Mera stood.

Dayne turned to Mera as the wyvern approached. She didn't speak, but a broad smile swept across her face.

A flurry of wind rushed over Dayne as the wyvern alighted on the edge of the balcony, its powerful legs holding it in place. The creature stared at him with eyes so blue they could have been sapphires.

"Witness the freedom of Valtara, brother."

As the wyvern craned its neck down, Dayne got a better look at the rider. His heart stopped. "Alina…"

It was at that moment, as he looked up at his sister garbed in her dark leather armour, orange swirls enamelled along the breastplate, Dayne realised the young girl he so fondly remembered, was gone. She was a warrior now – she was a Wyndarii.

Smiling, Alina unbuckled herself from the harness that strapped her to the wyvern's back, then slid gracefully to the balcony. She rested her hand on the wyvern's neck, whispering something to the creature. Lifting its head into the air, the wyvern let out a monstrous roar, then spread its wings and dove from the balcony.

Dayne took a step towards his sister. "Alina… when did you…"

"You have been gone a long time, brother," Alina said, plucking at the fingers of the gloves that adorned her hands. She pulled each finger out, just a touch, before removing the glove entirely, revealing the black ink that covered each of her fingers, trailing in thin lines to circles that ringed her wrists. "For the first time since our mother, an Ateres leads the wyvern riders of Valtara to battle. Will you fight by my side? Will you bear the colours of our people? Will you lead the armies of Valtara on the ground as we retake our homeland?"

Dayne's throat went dry, and his pulse slowed to a hammering beat, thumping his blood through his veins. Lead the armies of Valtara? That was an honour he did not deserve. But it was not one he would turn away now his sister had asked it of him. "I…" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "What about the others? The council?"

"I will deal with them. What say you?"

"I will stand by your side until my lungs take their last breath and my heart ceases to beat. In darkness, and in light, by blade and by blood, I am yours. Let me be your sword."