"War is a gardener, and blood is its rain. In peace, a man may hide behind masks of civility, but under fire, the masks rot away, and truth crawls into the light. That is why prophets and kings alike keep their hands dirty; they know the crop they need can only grow in soil rich with the dead."
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"The boy called your name as that thing tore him apart. He died believing his friend would save him."
"Enough." Nisheena's voice cracked like a whip. "We have larger concerns than wounded pride and masculine posturing."
She was right, though the truth burned in Kael's throat like swallowed fire. The wanderer had answers about the demon, about the mysterious stranger who'd fled at mention of a king's blessed, about why their peaceful town had become a battlefield for forces beyond mortal understanding.
"The man who was here yesterday," Nisheena continued, leaning forward on the bar. "You knew him, didn't you? When I mentioned the king's blessed, he went white as a burial shroud and fled like the hounds of hell were nipping his heels."
The wanderer's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "His name is Eloriun Mistwalker."
"And what exactly is he to you?"
"A prophet." The wanderer took another drink, his scarred knuckles white around the cup. "More precisely, a false prophet serving false gods. He's behind something far more dangerous than your petty family war."
Kael found his voice, though it sounded hollow in his own ears. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean, boy, is that your precious lords didn't gain their sudden power through noble breeding or divine favor. The Enki don't give their gifts freely." The wanderer gestured toward the spot where the Marduk had died. "Someone made a bargain, signed a contract in blood and souls. That creature wasn't here by accident."
Nisheena's crimson eyes narrowed. "You're saying this Eloriun arranged the conflict between the families?"
"Not arranged. Guided. Nurtured. Fed it like a gardener tending poisonous flowers until it bloomed into exactly what he needed." The wanderer set down his cup with deliberate care. "He's hunting someone, a person marked by the false gods to assassinate the king. But he can't identify them in peacetime, when people are content and their true natures remain hidden."
"Then why create war?" Kael asked, though part of him already suspected the answer.
"Because war reveals character. Desperation strips away pretense. In the heat of battle, facing death and betrayal, people show who they really are." The wanderer's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "He needs chaos, violence, conditions where someone angry and broken enough to kill a king might surface."
Nisheena leaned closer, her elegant features sharp with suspicion. "And you? Why are you here if not to serve this Eloriun?"
"Because I'm hunting the same target he is." The wanderer's confession hung in the air like smoke. "The difference is what we plan to do when we find them."
"Explain," she demanded.
The wanderer was quiet for a long moment, staring into his ale as if seeking answers in its amber depths. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of old secrets and older pain.
"The lantern he carries, you saw it, didn't you? Blue flames that never flicker, light that seems to pull at the soul itself. It's not just magical. It's a key, a doorway between this world and the realm of the false gods. The chosen one won't fully awaken to their purpose until they die by its flame."
"Die?" Kael felt ice forming in his stomach.
"The false gods need a perfect assassin, someone who can walk into the royal palace without suspicion, someone the king would never see coming. But that requires sacrifice. The chosen one must die and be reborn, their soul hollowed out and filled with divine purpose. When they return, they'll no longer be human. They'll be a vessel for the false gods' will, shaped into the perfect weapon for regicide."
Nisheena's face had gone pale beneath her dark complexion. "And if you find this person first?"
"Then they die before awakening. Permanently." The wanderer's matter-of-fact tone made the words somehow worse. "Better one innocent life lost than a kingdom in flames."
The casual acceptance of murder sat poorly with Kael, even after everything he'd witnessed. "What if you're wrong? What if this person is truly innocent, just someone caught up in circumstances beyond their control?"