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Chapter 1: Our light in the darkness.

  “Please. I beg of you, do not go!” a voice whimpers, its soft cries echo down the cold, stone walls of a twisting staircase.

  “Restrain yourself, sister!” another snaps back. “This is my moment. Why would I cower when I stand on the precipice of greatness? Stand back if you can’t stand by me.”

  “Anna! Please wait, I need to tell you…”

  “Enough, Aribelle! The ceremony has already begun and your incessant whining has made me tardy yet again!”

  Aribelle Lindbergh huffs as she strugglingly trails behind her twin sister, Arienne.

  Glimmers of moonlight slip through the window slits of the barrack’s eastern stairwell where the two hurriedly descend its steps.

  Arienne takes swift peeks through the windows as she moves, trying to catch a glimpse of the ceremony in the palace courtyard. Torches flicker on the outskirts of a large group of people, sending long shadows dancing across the cobblestones of the Northenian Royal Palace’s central courtyard.

  An ancient wizard, tall, wide and wrapped in intricately woven robes, speaks piously to his audience from atop a small stage. His long elf-like ears standing pointedly erect as he waves his hand in the air and strokes at his beard, occasionally pointing at the people around him.

  Beside him sits an old, wrinkled priest, equally adorned in luxurious finery. He listens intently, while a group of people stand before the stage, facing the crowd.

  “Ah! You see! The proceedings have already started. His Grace introduces the expedition team! Argh! I swear, Bella, I will have your hide if the High Magister finds me late because of you.” Arianna barks at her sister, grabbing her wrist, pulling her faster down the swirl of steps.

  “W-Wait Anna! I’m going to fall!”

  “Then I will catch you, my dear Bella. Always have, always will. Every time you find trouble, I shall come to your rescue. But, this is my moment Aribelle, please don't take this away from me. Just come, and be quiet!”

  They reach the door at the stairway’s landing, bursting out into the courtyard, but Aribelle digs her heeled boots into the cobblestones, pulling back her sister with what little physical strength she can muster.

  “Arienne, please. Just listen! I need to talk to you. Something’s not right, I-I can feel it. This doesn’t make sense! Why now? Why you?”

  “Fate. Divine providence. The spirits have heard our prayers, and behold, they have been answered. I have been blessed with the capacity and , perhaps, a divine charge to protect our kingdom, to deliver it from its torment. What greater honor is there to any Northenian?”

  “Anna! You are not listening!” Aribelle yells, slapping her sister against her breastplate. “I’ve been helping with the preparations for the expedition! I know what you are getting into… the Stormlands, the monsters, the… Dark Lord’s lair. I understand. All of it. If anybody can do it, if anybody can stop this curse, it’s you, Anna. I trust you.”

  Arienne glares at her sister, her face twisted into an unimpressed scowl. She stares hard into Aribelle’s ice-blue eyes which quiver with worry. Arienne sighs, relenting to her sister’s anxieties.

  “Fine! You have 15 seconds. Tell me your concerns. But, know this, I have an oath to uphold…”

  “Exactly, Anna. We all have an oath to uphold, and mine compels me to warn you of what I’ve seen! I don’t think the guild has been upholding their oath, Anna.”

  “What do you mean? Are you accusing…”

  Aribelle grips her sister’s mouth and pulls her against the stone walls of the Mage Guild’s tower.

  “Shh! Just listen, you bloody hilt-head.” Aribelle whispers. “Do you even know how your expedition team is getting through the Stormlands?”

  “W-well… I’m not sure. They haven’t really told us the details, but the High Magister assures me the guild has discovered a clear path through the Stormlands, directly to the Dark Lord’s lair. Moreover, how we get there is not of my concern! The fact we don’t have to march through mountains and monsters for three months is good enough for me.” Arienne retorts in a huff.

  “Teleportation!” Aribelle yelps. “They are going to teleport you directly to the Dark Lord’s stronghold.”

  “Oh!” Arienne responds, her eyes widening at the prospect. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

  “No, Anna! It’s not possible! The distance itself is far beyond anything the Mage Guild’s spells could traverse. Furthermore, Luna and I have been looking into the archives of the previous expeditions. It’s abundantly clear that teleportation through Stormlands is impossible! They’ve tried it innumerable times over the last 80 years. How are they able to do it now?”

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  “How would I know, Bella? You’re the brilliant mage academic, I just swing a sword. Your words, remember.”

  “Arienne, please! They’ve tried everything to find a way through the storm for over a century. Nothing worked. Hundreds, if not thousands of lives lost.”

  “So, they must’ve figured out a new way. Some new magic...”

  “What? No… look, I’ve, um… I’ve seen some of the High Magister’s personal notes while helping him prepare the incantations of the teleportation spell. You know I’ve seen some strange things, Arienne. I've seen some very strange things in my time at the academy and guild. But the runes and inscriptions I’ve seen in the Magisters notes, the drawings and plans he had hidden away… they look… they look forbidden, Anna.”

  Arienne weaves her long fingers through her silky, blonde hair, rubbing at her scalp to urge her brain into action, trying to make sense of her sister’s revelations.

  “Surely you don’t speak of… arcanics? Black-tech?” Arienne questions as her brow bends in confusion.

  Ariabelle nods fervently, but a slap to her chest from Arienne quickly relieves her of her knowing smirk and most of her breath.

  “I pray you jest, sister! Moreso, I pray you never mention an utterance of this drivel to another soul! Those are words of heresy! To accuse the guild, and by extension, the church of such! Do you wish to see us hanged as traitors?” Arienne chuckles. “Please, I know the thought of me fighting that demon brings you no joy, but to resort to such nonsense. This is truly unbecoming, even for you, Bella.”

  “I dare not joke on the matter! Luna and I have been investigating. I know they’re hiding something, Anna. I can prove it. Just give me some time.”

  “Aribella! Enough! Talk any more of this and I will drag you before General Beloch myself. Do you hear yourself? Black-tech? The church would never. The spirits would abandon us! Speak sense! You have found nothing and your fears of losing me clouds your judgment. Have faith, woman! Have you ever known me to meet a challenge I could not best? I will return victorious, like I always have! Now settle your mind and see me off with a smile, my little me.” Arienne smiles, slipping her hand into her sister's as she grabs Aribellel’s chin and tilts her sister’s face towards hers. “I would be most perturbed if I could not see the most beautiful face in the kingdom before I leave to protect it.”

  Aribelle plants a quick kiss on her sister's nose.

  “Anna! Please…”

  “Aribelle Lindberg! I said that is enough!” Arienne snaps, pushing her sister away. “If you won’t see me off, I suggest you return to your quarters to clear your mind of these heretical thoughts. Your concern is appreciated. Even warranted, I will admit. But I have a kingdom to protect and an oath to uphold. I must bid you farewell.”

  Arienne sneers at her sister as she storms off toward the ceremony, leaving a sniveling Aribelle to slump to the ground, her soft, pink cheeks puffed out and carved with flowing tears.

  Arienne, hearing her sister’s snickers, sighs deeply as she turns back around. She hurries back to Aribelle and helps her to her feet.

  “Bubble Belly, I promise. When I get back, I’m all yours. No knight business. No expeditions. Just you and me. We can go spend a whole year in that damn cottage you keep telling me about. Just… just please don’t do this to me. Not now. I’m supposed to go out there to save this bloody kingdom, Bella. I can’t do that if I don’t have your blessing.”

  Aribelle, lip bent and brow shivering, stares at her sister with fear and frustration, and Arienne stares back, her face downturned as her vulnerability-filled eyes tug at Aribelle’s emotions.

  “Ugh! Fine! But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Hilt-head! Please… please promise me you'll be careful out there.” Aribelle scowls, rubbing tear-trails off her cheeks.

  “Always.”

  The sisters share a deep embrace and see each other off with head rubs and mutual cheek kisses.

  Arienne quickly trots off, rounds a building and leaves behind her trailing shadow, as she moves toward the brightly lit courtyard. The clip-clop of her armoured boots fade off, disappearing into the loud cheers and applause that warmly welcomes her.

  “Ah! Here she is now… finally. Please welcome, Knight-Captain Arienne Lindberg!” The High Magister, Denero Sigrund, says as he leers at the approaching Arienne.

  The crowd around the courtyard clap and cheer while murmurs of The Knight-Captains various achievements and accolades could be heard whispered amongst those present.

  “Apologies for my tardiness, Your Grace. A small family matter had…”

  “No apologies needed, dear child. You are our light in the darkness, this propitious evening. ” High Magister Sigrund yells out toward her. “Never in our histories has there existed a swordmaster of your talent and ability. Through our loyalty, dedication and unwavering faith, the spirits have truly blessed us with your coming on…”

  “The truth, High Magister!” another yells out, interrupting the second highest ranking mage in the kingdom. “For more than 2000 years the Dark Lord’s rot has brought death and devastation to our lands. Oh, how long I’ve waited to see him meet his day of ruin. Over 200 years I’ve prayed! Og, great spirits! Your mercy and power…”

  “Thank you, oh Grand Vicar Faltis.” The High Magister interjects. “The efforts of all the men and women lost to previous expeditions have not gone in vain. For it is through their sacrifice, that we have finally discovered the exact location of the Dark Lord’s lair!” the High Magister declares, grinning widely as the crowd contends with his revelation.

  “Divine providence! Signs of salvation from the sacred spirits themselves! Truly, our faith and their mercy has led us to this glorious day.” The High Cardinal bellows.

  The High Magister chuckles at the Cardinal’s fervent oration.

  “Haha! Yes, your grace, as you say. With the Church’s divine assistance and through years of research and development at the Mage Guild, we’ve been able to refine and perfect our most powerful teleportation magic. We’ve created a spell capable of piercing even the impenetrable wall of dark magic that shields the demon’s den. No longer shall our warriors be forced to tread through the treacherous Stormlands, no more shall they fight wave after wave of monsters in a deathrace to reach the Dark Lord’s lair. No!”

  The High Magister slams his palms together sending out a thunderous crash of sound through the courtyard. The crowd startles while the High Magister Sigrund slowly turns his eyes firmly toward Arienne, his mouth twisting to a wide, knowing smirk.

  “Today… we will meet the demon at his door!”

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