Clamor and Disaster

Herbs, plants, flowers, and oils – these are the things that surround my chambers. I had my servants carry Aretha into my rooms as Olghar and I prepare an antidote for her loss of consciousness. Whatever she saw, it is enough for her to lose her strength and faint away. I know for certain that she is alive. Nymphs' hair is said to fade away if they die. In the case of Aretha, her hair remains that mahogany color we love. After mixing several ingredients (and after a few explosions), we managed to find the proper antidote.

Aretha's eyes slowly open, but she remains stunned. Much to our relief, she is with us again. Carefully, she sits up straight and stares blankly at the walls.

"What's the matter?" I ask.

Still, Aretha acts as if she had not heard a thing.

"Please, Aretha, tell us," Olghar pleads.

She remains unwilling. With her unblinking eyes, all I could see are the pain in her heart. Something must have happened to those she loves.

"It's the lake," Aretha says simply. "We are under attack. Maybe it is the Undead."

She need not say more. I gather my father's army and lead them into the Obice forest. These men, unfortunately, are unwilling to go. They only go simply because I said so. The "tyrannical beheading", as they call it, left a mark on them that is impossible to remove. Somehow, I doubt these men would rally to us if our rule comes to threat. I only managed to gather 50 men. These will not be enough, but with Olghar and Aretha, I think that would suffice.

With Aretha still weak, I got her up on one of my centaur guards with Olghar to guide her. Still, with swords on our sides and fierceness in our eyes, we will end this once and for all.

We pass the forest in the midst of the night. The moon is at its peak up in the sky, giving us the strength we need. The light scatters all about the forest, giving light to its inhabitants. It would be a nice hunting night, had this threat not come along. Suddenly, I heard a loud boom on the ground. It was as if someone, or something, had fallen. I look back to see who it might be, and, it's Aretha.

"What happened?" I asked Olghar immediately.

Olghar, who seems to be more aghast than I am, says nothing. He hops on my shoulder as I pick Aretha up.

"This has been going on for hours during our ride," Olghar replies as I see the fainted Aretha. "I thought the constant administration of the antidote would be enough, but whatever that is troubling her, it is much greater than we think."

*

Sticks and pebbles are scattered all about in our path. Every minute gives a new kind of pain as we pass through the night. It is clear what we must do – quell the rebellion as the vampire lords had done it. Their numbers still remain unknown. How much more do we have to do to stop them?

After another hour of riding, there we saw the arch of Tenebrae – the village of Nymphs. As we pass through the arch, a barrier halted our entry. It was a barrier as clear as glass, but as strong as a man's hand to push us. It merely threw us away as if we are intruders.

"A defense system," Olghar observes. "We need a nymph to remove the barrier."

"What about Aretha?" I ask.

"She's still weak."

Not long after, a nymph joins us. Dressed in green with flowers all over, she takes a fainted Aretha from the back of a centaur that carried her all the way.

"What is your business here?" the stoic nymph asks.

"Aretha said you are in trouble," I answer bluntly. "We thought that you are in need of help, and – "

With her blazing eyes, I can see the fury she has in her soul. "And nothing! We don't need your help. We had enough of help from the Llelewyns. Might I remind you what your grandfather did to our lake? He almost had it burned to the ground due to our threat to your crown! We never wanted to take it back. It's yours for all I care. Leave us be!"

Then, an explosion occurs. It is enough to burn through the trees around us. Little by little, the trees burn from the arch to the village. Fire. . . what is going on? The Undead could not have done this, could they? From the inside, I hear screams of women resonating through the woods. Though the stoic nymph carries Aretha in her arms, I can see Aretha shivering in pain.

"I hate to be smug, madam, but I think you do need our help," I say calmly.

*

We pass through the barrier, and suddenly, it is chaos. Homes burn furiously as some of the nymphs tries to extinguish the fires. Not long after, we see the roots of this mess – the Undead. With a ball of flames, they throw it everywhere as they cause havoc.

Once the nymphs are distracted, the Undead then does their work. They bite the flesh out of the living and altogether they fall to the ground. Aretha, who has been taken far from this mess, hopefully, rests safely with my centaur guard on watch for any troubles. It's just me, Olghar, and 50 werewolves against thousands of lifeless men. What a day!

"Here's the plan!" I proclaim to the men. "Half of you will stop the fire, and half of you will fight with me in stopping this mess."

"But, your grace, there's too – "

"No buts! This is your order from The Prince of The Blood."

It goes well. Fires are extinguished little by little. Clamor and disaster are in the air. I took a deep breath and slowly let out my piercing claws. Once I opened my eyes from my solemnity, it is time.

"Charge!"

I lead the attack. With Olghar serving as the distraction, I take the chance and cut the heart of the Undead. He crawls into the Undead's clothes to turn away their attention. Blood spills out of the lifeless. In a blink of an eye, I pierce through their flesh and throw them into the waters. There comes another and another. In a far-off distance, I see another nymph close to her death. Before one could take the life out of her, I throw the Undead into the water, leaving her breathless. I simply nod and continue fighting.

As I look around, I see my men gathering waters from the lake and using it to smother the fires. The screams slowly die out, not out of death, but rather out of salvation.

"Rordan, look back!"

Olghar's warning was too late. Thoughtlessly, the Undead bludgeoned me with a stone on my head. With blood spilling out, I find that I can stand no more. The fields turn into a blur. Slowly, I fall to the lush greenery beside the lake. In my fading sight, I can only smell the heavy acrid air of blood and sweat.

More of them surround me. In this haste, no one even notices my fall. As I try to shout for help, no one could hear my silent screams. Olghar, who has been good to warn me, is nowhere near me. Perhaps, he thinks I'm still fighting with him.

The fading screams suddenly grow louder and louder. Tides are turning against us. Is this how the rule of the Werewolves would end? The heavens had been good to grant us the right to rule, but now, a new horde would usurp our throne.

In my loose view, I hear clattering of hooves all around. Men on these horses unmount themselves. They do not seem to be alarmed for they simply draw their swords calmly. I try to get up, but I only fall back down to the ground. I see someone wearing a full armor the glistens with the full moon night. He walks placidly towards me with a silver sword drawn up in the air. Things could not go worse for me.

"Melchior," I whisper.