Elyrion was sitting in his room in the small castle of the Citadel. There was light coming from the arched window, soft and golden, falling across the floor. The stones of the wall caught none of it, they stayed cold and dull, drinking in the warmth without giving anything back. The room was quiet.
Then Hendrix came in.
He didn't knock. The door creaked open, and he stepped inside like he owned the place.
"Ah… Hendrix," Patriarch Elyrion said with a pretentious smile, rising from his seat. "Welcome. Welcome. I hope you've had time to reacquaint yourself with your old comrades."
Hendrix didn't return the warmth. His steps were slow.
"I don't like any of this, Elyrion," he said flatly.
Elyrion gestured to the seat across from him. "I invited you to discuss the ceasefire proposed by the Regime."
"Ceasefire?" Hendrix's brow furrowed. "With who?"
"With the Belenor."
The name alone made Hendrix's face twitch with disbelief. He rose from his chair abruptly, voice laced with rage.
Belenor was a rogue state formerly under control of Ezkabel. Now it's overrun by Satanic Worshippers who worship 10 demons and, the Holmen. Nobody knows what the connection between Holmen and Satanic Worshippers is but they know this much that it does exist.
"What are you talking about?"
Elyrion remained seated, hands clasped calmly. "It's part of a greater accord. A mediated deal"
Hendrix cut him off. "We've been fighting those cursed beings for four years. While you sat in polished halls, sipping wine and drafting letters, I buried friends in ash. Comrades, Elyrion. Brothers."
He leaned forward, fists clenched on the table.
"And now you speak of peace? What did they die for? A negotiation?"
Elyrion kept his voice steady. "This is in the clan's best interest. You know I would never abandon that."
"I'm not accepting the ceasefire," Hendrix said through gritted teeth. "Nor will the men who bled beside me."
He paused, narrowing his eyes.
"What was the deal?"
Elyrion hesitated. "We surrender the Western Fringes."
A stunned silence.
Then Hendrix laughed, a short, bitter sound.
"You have no idea what you're doing," he said quietly, voice shaking with fury. "You've never seen them up close. If you had, you'd send every soldier we have to the Fringes."
He stepped back, shoulders rising and falling.
"You should be thanking us. We've held back a flood you've never even seen. And this is how we're welcomed back, labeled rogues, treated like burdens by our own blood."
His voice rose into a shout, echoing across the hall.
"Ungrateful bastards!"
He turned toward the door.
"You've lost your mind, Elyrion. You're handing them our gates."
"Wait, Hendrix," Elyrion called.
But Hendrix was already at the threshold, fury carrying him forward like a storm.
Elyrion exhaled and sat back into his chair.
He said nothing.
---
Hendrix walked through the outer wards of the Citadel with his trusted general, Arnold. The streets bustled, but a cold, invisible pressure clung to the air.
"What are the reports?" Hendrix asked, eyes scanning the growing number of shops marked by Regime symbols.
Arnold, scroll in hand, answered. "Use of Regime instruments and magic continues to spread. Their books, talismans, branded items, sold openly. Scouts say their language, fashion, even mindset is creeping into our youth."
Hendrix exhaled sharply. "And the people?"
"There's… a shift," Arnold replied. "Birth rates have dropped. Scholars link it to growing emotional isolation. Households are thinning. People prefer solitude, success, or escapism. Marriages are delayed. Intimacy feels mechanical. Community bonds are fraying."
"The root?"
"Scholars trace it to overpopulation. Too much competition, unstable livelihoods, societal pressure. People grow materialistic, overworked, and numb. Pleasure or productivity, those are the only two valid reasons to live. Everything else is seen as wasteful. They say these are the natural symptom of overpopulation"
Hendrix slowed. "So our identity is being erased, not by war, but by influence."
He stopped as children played with a Regime-marked orb.
"Ah. Nothing new, I guess. We always knew Ezkabel wouldn't conquer us with swords. At least… they aren't like those cursed bastards of Belenor."
Arnold hesitated. "Sir… there's more. The Patriarch and Council plan to formally introduce New Magic, the Regime's system, into the Academy's curriculum."
Hendrix turned, his jaw tight.
"Arnold," and then said with a pause. "I've changed my mind. We're going back to the castle."
---
He slammed open the chamber door, cloak billowing like a flag of defiance.
"Greetings, Lord Patriarch," he said, voice thick with scorn. "Or should I say… Governor of the Citadel? That title suits this little arrangement better."
Elyrion looked up from his scrolls, expression tight.
"Governor? Appointed by whom?" Elyrion asked.
"Ezkabel. Who else?" Hendrix replied.
"It was a part of the ceasefire terms.", Elyrion said tired from the conversation.
"What were the other terms? Kill Hendrix?" his voice darkened.
Elyrion stood now. "You left me alone here. I held the Crescent together while you fought shadows. And now that you're back, you tear everything down."
"I expected better from you, brother."
"Father was here," Hendrix said coldly.
"Father was dying, Hendrix!" Elyrion snapped. "He hadn't held the seal in months. You know that."
A heavy silence.
"Look, we make a deal," Hendrix said. "You handle the Citadel however you want. Let me do what I must. If anyone asks, tell them I've gone rogue."
Elyrion narrowed his eyes. "What are you going to do?"
"I'll stay a while. Gather my men. I've already sent word to the Fringes, they'll hold the ceasefire."
"And after that?"
"I'll conquer Belenor. And you won't stop me."
"You can't conquer Belenor alone and they'll demand I stop you."
"Then tell them your men won't fight their own kin."
"Please, brother… I beg you," Elyrion's voice broke. "Be my right hand. Let's fix this, together. Don't leave me again… not after being gone so long."
Hendrix looked at him. His eyes, once fiery, now soft with sympathy. A flicker of pain passed through him.
For a moment, it seemed he might speak.
But he only turned away and said quietly,
"I'll get going."
And with that, he walked off without looking back.