The battlefield had transformed in mere moments. Where chaos and desperate fighting had reigned, now an almost surreal calm descended, punctuated only by the whisper of flying swords dispatching any remaining abominations that dared to move.
Sunny and Nephis stood with their cohort, watching the scene unfold before them, their bodies still tense with battle-readiness even as they caught their breath.
They knew what came next – the questions, the debriefing, the careful examination of how they'd managed to survive and fight against these unusual enemies. Someone would come for them soon enough. The discovery about the cloth's significance, Nephis's divine flames, their coordinated tactics – all of it would need to be reported and analyzed.
Sunny felt Nephis shift slightly beside him, her height allowing her to see over the heads of their cohort members. Despite the grime of battle still coating them both, despite the exhaustion weighing on their limbs, they maintained their composure. They were survivors, after all, and this wouldn't be their first post-battle interrogation.
Movement caught their attention – a figure approaching through the settling dust. Morgan's distinctive form emerged, her steps measured and deliberate as she made her way toward them. Her black armor absorbed the scattered light around her, making the crimson cape seem even more vivid in contrast. Despite having run earlier, she now moved with calculated grace, every step speaking of carefully contained power.
She was coming to escort them to her father – the imposing figure who had emerged from the dream gate, whose presence still pressed against their senses like a physical weight. The man whose arrival had changed everything about their desperate battle.
Sunny and Nephis exchanged another glance. This wasn't just going to be a standard debriefing – this was going to be a negotiation, perhaps even a turning point.
Whatever had brought such powerful figures to their battlefield, through such a dramatic entrance, had to be significant.
As Morgan drew closer, her expression carefully neutral but her eyes sharp and assessing, they straightened their postures, ready to face whatever came next.
The swords continued their deadly dance in the background, a reminder that while this phase of the battle might be over, nothing about their situation was truly settled yet.
"You'll need to come with me," Morgan stated, her voice carrying the same weight as her armor – dark, heavy, brooking no argument. "Both of you."
Sunny felt the immediate urge to refuse surge through him like lightning. Every instinct, honed by survival and suspicion, screamed at him to decline. One glance at Nephis confirmed she felt the same resistance – her posture had stiffened ever so slightly, her eyes narrowing just a fraction.
Behind them, their cohort – Effie, Kai, and Jet – shifted uneasily. They'd fought together, bled together, survived together. Now they watched with barely concealed concern as their leaders faced this new challenge.
Kai's hand hadn't left his bow's handle, while Effie's eyes darted between the saints positioned around them, calculating odds as always.
Jet maintained her characteristic stillness, but her attention was razor-sharp, ready to react at a moment's notice.
But they both knew better. With the battlefield still littered with the aftermath of their desperate fight, with flying swords continuing their lethal patrol overhead, and with seven saints positioned strategically around them, refusing wasn't really an option. Not if they wanted to ensure their cohort's safety.
So Sunny nodded, the movement small but decisive. Nephis mirrored his acceptance a moment later.
Morgan turned without another word, clearly expecting them to follow. As they fell into step behind her, their feet crunching softly on the debris-strewn ground, they maintained complete silence.
To anyone watching – including their own worried cohort members – they appeared to be communicating only through occasional glances – the kind of wordless exchange common among those who had fought together, survived together.
But beneath that facade of silence, Sunny's enchantment hummed with activity.
*We need to be careful about what we reveal,* his thoughts reached out to Nephis, clear and focused despite the overwhelming pressure emanating from their destination. *Some things are better left unsaid.*
*Agreed,* Nephis's mental voice came back, steady and controlled. *The cloth weakness, yes. The divine flames, necessary. But nothing about the future aspects or the shadow abilities we don't fully understand yet.*
*And nothing about the Gate Guardian,* Sunny added. *That situation is too complex to explain without revealing things we can't afford to share.*
*What about mordret's death* Nephis questioned, her physical expression remaining perfectly neutral as they walked.
*Only if directly asked, and then only the bare minimum,* Sunny decided. *We don't know enough about why they're here or what they want.*
Behind them, their cohort maintained their positions, a united front even in this moment of separation. Sunny could sense their tension, their readiness to act if needed, despite the overwhelming odds against them. It only strengthened his resolve to handle this carefully.
*Remember,* Sunny's thoughts carried a note of grim determination, *whatever happens, we protect our cohort first.*
*Always,* Nephis agreed, her mental voice carrying the same steel as her divine flames. A quick glance back at Effie, Kai, and Jet reinforced their shared commitment.
Morgan led them forward with unwavering purpose, seemingly oblivious to their silent exchange. Above them, the white dream gate continued to hover, a reminder of how quickly everything had changed.
Around them, the remaining saints watched their progress with unreadable expressions, their own pressures adding to the already thick atmosphere.
The distance to their destination seemed both too short and endless, each step bringing them closer to what could be either salvation or complication – or perhaps both. Behind them, their cohort stood vigilant, a reminder of exactly what they were fighting to protect.
When they finally reached their destination, the pressure became almost unbearable. Anvil stood before them, Morgan taking her place at his side, while Sunny and Nephis faced them in tense silence. The weight of Anvil's presence pressed down like a physical force, making every breath feel like a conscious effort. Yet still, he said nothing, his armored form radiating power and authority without a single word.
Taking advantage of the prolonged silence, Sunny risked a glance back at his cohort, checking on them with barely concealed concern.
Kai had finally allowed himself to sit on the ground, though his hand never strayed far from his bow, ready to loose arrows at a moment's notice. Even exhausted and battle-worn, he somehow managed to look frustratingly beautiful – all elegant lines and composed grace.
It annoyed Sunny to no end how Kai could maintain such an appearance even after everything they'd been through. The kind of person who could make sitting in battlefield debris look like a posed portrait.
Near him, Effie had also surrendered to exhaustion, sprawled on the ground with none of Kai's grace but all of her usual authenticity.
Her expression spoke of intense hunger – they'd barely had time to eat before the ball had erupted into chaos with the appearance of that first gate. Now her stomach was probably staging its own rebellion.
And then there was Jet – standing apart from the others, her posture rigid with defiance rather than exhaustion. Her ice-colored eyes swept over the saints of clan Valor with a coldness that matched their hue.
There was something deeply unsettling about her gaze – the kind of piercing stare that spoke of someone intimately familiar with dealing death. Her feminine features did nothing to soften that killer's look; if anything, they made it more pronounced.
*They're holding up,* Sunny communicated silently to Nephis, *but we need to wrap this up soon. Effie needs food, and Jet looks ready to start something we can't finish.*
*Agreed,* came Nephis's mental reply, *but why isn't he speaking? What is he waiting for?*
The silence stretched on, broken only by the distant whisper of still-patrolling swords and the occasional shift of armor as the saints maintained their positions around them. The white dream gate continued to hover overhead, a reminder of how quickly their world had changed.
Still, Anvil said nothing, his armored form as immobile as a statue, the pressure of his presence never wavering. Morgan remained equally silent at his side, her crimson cape occasionally stirring in the battlefield's hot breeze.
The waiting game continued, a test of endurance that none of them had asked for but all were forced to play.
As the silence stretched on, Sunny and Nephis grew increasingly uneasy. Every passing moment felt like another possibility that they'd somehow transgressed, committed some unknown offense. The pressure continued to build, making even their silent communication feel strained.
Then Anvil turned to face them.
The moment his gaze fell upon them, both Sunny and Nephis staggered, their knees buckling beneath the sheer weight of his presence.
It wasn't just physical pressure anymore – his eyes carried something far heavier, a burden of power and knowledge that crashed over them like a tidal wave.
Nephis felt her breath catch in her throat. In all her preparation, all her training, all her burning desire for vengeance, she had never truly understood the gulf between herself and her targets.
Now, kneeling before one of the men who had destroyed her family, the reality of her quest struck her with brutal clarity. Anvil, Ki Song, Asterion – they existed on a plane so far above her current abilities that her dreams of revenge suddenly seemed like a child's fantasy.
The distance she would need to traverse to even have a chance at avenging her father felt impossibly vast in that moment. Every step of training, every advancement in her powers, every milestone she'd achieved – they all seemed insignificant in the face of this man's overwhelming might.
Sunny sensed her turmoil through their mental link, but could offer no comfort. He too was struggling under the weight of Anvil's attention, understanding for the first time just how small they were in the grand scheme of things.
When Anvil finally spoke, his voice carried such authority that even the air seemed to vibrate with its power. "Follow Morgan to Bastion," he commanded, each word falling like a hammer blow. "You will answer all questions there."
The directive was simple, but the implications vast. Bastion meant interrogation, meant careful questioning, meant having to navigate their secrets while under the scrutiny of powers far beyond their current understanding.
*We'll get through this,* Sunny managed to project to Nephis, even as they both remained on their knees. *One step at a time.*
*One step at a time,* Nephis echoed in her thoughts, but her mental voice carried a new edge – a stark recognition of just how many steps lay between her current position and her ultimate goal of vengeance.
Morgan stepped forward, her own presence now feeling almost gentle compared to her father's overwhelming aura.
Behind them, their cohort watched with varying degrees of concern, unable to help, unable to intervene, as their leaders faced this moment of truth.
The white dream gate continued to hover above them all, casting its strange light over the scene – over the kneeling figures of Sunny and Nephis, over the watchful saints, over Morgan's waiting form, and over Anvil's armored silhouette, his power a constant reminder of the vast distances some dreams must travel to become reality.
The journey through the dream gate felt like stepping through a curtain of light, and then Bastion stood before them in all its imposing glory.
The ancient fortress rose against the sky like a mountain made by human hands – its walls weathered yet unbreakable, its gates massive and unyielding.
Layer upon layer of fortifications stretched outward from the central keep, each ring of walls designed to repel any threat the wilderness might spawn.
Sunny and Nephis took in the sight with barely concealed awe, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the face of such architectural might. But they quickly reined in their wonderment, their survival instincts kicking back into high gear.
The pressure that had nearly brought them to their knees earlier had lifted – Anvil's overwhelming presence hadn't followed them through the gate. At least not yet.
*We might have a window,* Sunny's thoughts reached out to Nephis. *If we can get through the questioning before the Sovereign arrives...*
*We might be able to control the narrative,* Nephis completed the thought, her mental voice carrying calculated precision. *Less scrutiny, fewer consequences.*
They exchanged quick glances as Morgan led them forward, both thinking the same thing: time was now their most precious resource. Every moment without the Sovereign's presence was a moment they could use to their advantage, a chance to carefully craft their responses and protect their secrets.
Behind them, their cohort followed in worn silence. Effie's hunger had been temporarily forgotten in the face of Bastion's grandeur.
Kai had finally risen from the ground, his bow now properly slung across his back, while Jet's cold gaze seemed to be cataloging every possible exit and vantage point the fortress presented.
The massive gates began to open before them, ancient mechanisms moving with surprising smoothness. As they approached the threshold of Bastion proper, both Sunny and Nephis steeled themselves.
They had survived the battlefield, endured Anvil's overwhelming presence – now they just had to navigate this interrogation without revealing more than necessary.
*Remember,* Sunny projected, *only what they need to know.*
*And nothing more,* Nephis agreed, her thoughts tinged with the same determination that had kept her vengeance burning all these years.
The gates of Bastion closed behind them with a sound like distant thunder, sealing them inside this fortress of stone and secrets. Now it was a race against time – to answer questions without revealing truths, to satisfy curiosity without exposing vulnerabilities, all before the full weight of authority could descend upon them once more.