Identity

Goleil shot out of his bed, falling to his knees on the wood floor.

He grasped his throat, trying to suck as much air into his lungs as possible. His body was drenched in sweat, and his glaive was already in his hand. When he had retrieved it, he had no idea.

He felt his face. The helmet must have morphed back into a mask while he slept because he could feel the cold stone against his fingertips.

Ty'Bral materialized by his side. "My Lord, do you need assistance?"

The sun knight shook his head and chuckled as he rose to his feet. "What could you even do for me, eldritch?"

Ty'Bral shrugged.

"I dislike how polite you are. Stop it."

"I can't do that, my Lord. You are the Adzarch."

Goleil sighed but still had a smile on his face. 'I remembered! The nagging is gone! I know my purpose! Finally, Vrea has spoken!'

He chuckled. "Who knew Vrea was a woman."

Ty'Bral felt a shiver down his back. "You have met Vrea?"

Goleil nodded. "Indeed. She gave me a second life, the power to destroy our enemies, and a noble purpose. I just remembered our meeting and how I survived Gruumsh's Gate."

Ty'Brals brows furrowed. "Why do I feel you are more fanatical than before our conversation?"

Goleil laughed. "Fanatical? It's called faith, eldritch. And my faith has been rewarded."

"Is that so?! Then tell me, are any of your memories from before the battle back?"

"No. I don't see what that has to do with anything. I'm sure they'll come back eventually."

"You said there was no nagging like you forgot something. Does it not bother you that you can't even remember their names? You remembered your training but couldn't remember anything about your friends. I bet if I asked you for a description of one, just one, you wouldn't be able to tell me!"

Goleil stared at Ty'Bral, with his glaive still in hand.

Ty'Bral's blood-red eyes stared into Goleil's golden. Goleil felt like he was looking into some dark reflection or a portal into a dimension where he became a demon whenever he looked at Ty'Bral.

Goleil scoffed. "I will not allow a heretic to judge me, least of all you, eldritch," He said, quickly getting dressed. His cloak had been on in his sleep, so he didn't need to put it on.

'My faith will not be questioned! I have a purpose and answers! I am not some mere human. I am a God's Will! I must do my holy duty!' He thought.

And yet, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered.

'But, what about my family? My friends?' It was barely the volume of a mouse and unlike his deep eldritch voice. It sounded... normal.

Goleil froze.

His breath hitched, and he felt an ache deep within his throat.

He remembered faces, faces he'd seen before. The first faces he had remembered while he still stumbled across the fields outside Gruumsh's Gate.

A rough, black-haired middle-aged man and two similar younger men. They looked at him with fondness, gentle smiles on their faces. A stern-looking brunette woman looked at him with a face full of anger, but her eyes had a mischievous glint.

Goleil closed his eyes tightly. Their faces were so fuzzy that he could barely picture them.

"I'm sure... they would have wanted me to do this..."

His heart felt like it was in a vise, and his hand gripped the glaive tightly.

'How can I know?' The whisper came again.

Suddenly, golden threads whipped out from Goleil's mask and wrapped around his head.

At the same time, a red aura exploded from around his body, weakening the golden threads.

Pure radiant light battled with dim blood-red light, but the fight did not last long.

The blood-red power quickly fled into his mind to protect what it could, casting a powerful veil around his memories.

Radiant energy attempted to pierce it, to rid its host of the eldritch magic, but it couldn't.

After a moment, the energies dissipated, leaving Goleil crumpled on the floor, gasping for breath.

He quickly tried to wrench the mask off his face, but Ty'Bral suddenly appeared beside him.

"Stop, my Lord! The Elder magic within you might've protected you this time, but you may not be so lucky again!"

Goleil stopped, his chest rising and falling quickly.

He shakily rose to his feet again, using his glaive to support him.

After finally catching his breath, he glanced at Ty'Bral.

"...Thank you, Ty'Bral."

...

Lorcan Brentwood's body slumped to the floor, his blood staining the carpet.

Lord Colm picked Lorcan's head off the ground, holding him by his greying dark brown hair. He sighed.

"What a waste. Now I'm going to have to clean this all up." He glanced at Jonah de Clare, and his face was deathly pale. The man's esophagus desperately tried to keep the vomit from coming up his throat.

Aldritch Colm looked at the guards and nodded. Immediately they forced Jonah de Clare to his knees.

"No, please! Have mercy! Imagine what my family will do when they hear of my death!" He cried.

Lord Colm chuckled and gestured to the body of Brentwood. "Clearly, I have taken that into account."

Jonah de Clare glanced at the body of his compatriot, feeling the bile rising in his throat again.

He swallowed desperately. "Please, let me live! What have we done to deserve this?!"

The Lord of Redvale scoffed. "Not only do you dare to plot against my family and me, but you also dare to steal from this city. Look at you! You're just like Brentwood, nothing but greed incarnate. Give me one reason to let you live!"

Jonah de Clare felt tears welling in his eyes; he was too young to die! "I know! I have something information! How we knew about the attack! It's a spy; his name is Terin! He works in the kitchens! Please, don't kill me!"

He cowered, curling into a ball on the ground. For several seconds, he heard only silence.

"Well done, Minerva. Ocargon. Lorcan. I knew I could count on you three. Guyan, mobilize the guard and find this Terin. Bring him to the dungeons for interrogation when he's been captured. Oh, and take this scum to the dungeons."

What? Jonah de Clare looked up, and what he saw stunned him.

Aldritch Colm snapped his fingers, and it was as if he had lifted a veil from their eyes. Lorcan Brentwood was no longer a head and a body but a man. A man who was very much alive and grinning wolfishly..

His countless rings and amulets were gone. He was just as modestly dressed as the Aldritch, Ocargon, and Minerva.

"As you command, my Lord. We will not rest until it is done." Guard Captain Guyan said, and the Guards filed out of the room, dragging a screaming de Clare behind them.

Minerva smiled and clapped lightly. "Well done, Ald. Your magic never ceases to amaze us. How is it you keep getting better?"

Ocargon chuckled. "It's truly a marvel, Aldritch. I know illusion has always been your strongest suit, but it's really quite impressive now."

Brentwood laughed. "Did you see his face when Guyan cut my head off?! Priceless! Priceless, I tell you!"

Aldritch regained some color in his face as he laughed heartily. "It was taxing but worth it. That young man has had it coming. We have enough evidence to incriminate his family and the chance to plunder its incredible wealth."

Minerva nodded. "The city will flourish after this."

"Indeed!" Brentwood said.

Ocargon chuckled. "This reminds me of the old days, does it not?"

Nostalgic smiles spread through the room.

Brentwood sighed. "Well, that's the most action I'll get for the next ten years. Or perhaps, if Goleil fails, it will be the Y'Trix, will it not?"

Colm nodded. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."