Chapter 7
The silver masks they wore shined dimly under the moonlight, making them appear like demons in the dark.
Rowan and Sam hid between the shadows of an alley, waiting for their target as predators within the jungle.
The rain poured non-stop, Rowan listened carefully for the approaching noise of the wagons and guards, signaling the approach of their target.
The rhythmic clop of hooves grew closer, and Rowan’s hand instinctively tightened on the hilt of his sword.
He glanced towards Sam, whose eyes were fixed intently on the road, searching for any sign of movement.
They waited for the wagons to pass them slightly, and with a slight nod, Sam signaled that it was time, and they emerged from the shadows like wraiths in the night.
The two masked figures moved with practiced stealth, their footsteps barely audible on the damp cobblestones.
Rowan’s heart pounded in his chest, but his movements remained fluid and controlled. They approached the rear of the convoy, where a lone guard sat lazily atop the last wagon.
Sam motioned silently to Rowan, pointing first to himself, then to the guard. Rowan nodded in understanding. In one swift motion, Sam vaulted onto the back of the wagon, his hand clamping over the guard’s mouth before he could cry out.
There was a brief struggle, then stillness. Rowan moved alongside the wagon, scanning for any signs they’d been noticed.
The convoy continued its slow progress through the narrow street, the drivers oblivious to the danger behind them. He climbed aboard, joining Sam in the shadows of the canvas-covered cargo. “Four more guards,”
Sam whispered, barely audible over the creaking of wagon wheels. “There are two up front, another two flanking on the back.”
Rowan nodded, unsheathing his sword with a soft hiss of steel. The weight felt reassuring in his hand. They crept forward, using the movement of the wagon to mask their movements. Suddenly, a shout came out from the front of the convoy, the guard that shouted turned to look back.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
Rowan and Sam froze, exchanging a quick look through their masks. They knew the element of surprise was lost. “Now!”
Sam yelled.
Chaos erupted in an instant. Rowan vaulted over the side, his sword flashing in the moonlight as he engaged the nearest guard. Steel clashed against steel, the sound echoing off the buildings around them. The guard, caught off-guard by Rowan’s sudden appearance, stumbled backward.
Sam was a whirlwind of motion, his blade dancing as he fended off two guards at once, spraying water all around. Rowan pressed his advantage, driving his opponent back with a flurry of strikes. The guard’s parries grew desperate, his breathing ragged.
A cry of pain pierced the night – one of Sam’s attackers fell, clutching a deep gash in his side. The remaining guards rallied, their faces contorted with a mixture of fear and determination. Rowan feinted left, then struck low, his blade finding purchase in his opponent’s thigh.
The guard fell with a strangled cry. Without pause, Rowan spun to face the next threat, his muscles burned from the effort. The drivers had abandoned their posts, fleeing into the night.
Only two guards remained standing, their backs to the lead wagon as they faced off against them.
“Surrender,”
Sam called out, his voice muffled by the silver mask, “and you may yet live to see morning.”
The guards exchanged a look of uncertainty.
For a moment, the only sound was the heavy breathing of the combatants and the distant rumble of thunder. Then, two swords hit the cobblestones, the guards dropped to their knees.
Rowan moved swiftly and secured the guards, while Sam approached the lead wagon. The faint purple glow that beamed from within confirmed their target – the Mytholite shipment.
As Sam prepared to destroy the cargo, Rowan still held the sword in his hand, staying ready for any surprise that might occur.
He looked at Sam carefully approaching the wagon, and a sense of urgency rose within him.
“Wait,”
he whispered, moving towards Sam.
“Let me see it.”
Sam nodded and stepped aside, allowing Rowan to step up and approach the glowing container. The wagon was completely empty besides this single Mytholite container.
As Rowan’s gloved hand hesitantly touched the cool surface of a Mytholite container, the world around him blurred and faded away.
A vision appeared in his mind, showing a future he could never imagine. Streets he knew well were changed, patrolled by grim-faced Eidolon guards. Citizens hurried along with their heads down, fear was present in every movement.
Sam tried to shake him from it, he could hear him vaguely but it didn’t help.
Checkpoints were scattered around the city, where people were subjected to magical scans, their very thoughts probed for every sign of contempt. He saw the Eidolon temple, now a fortress-like structure dominating the skyline.
Garron stood at its peak, looking out over a city cowed into submission with cold determination.
The freedom they had known was gone, replaced by an oppressive regime ruling through fear, it seemed to Rowan like an alien reality.
As quickly as it had come, the vision faded. Rowan gasped, stumbling backward. Sam caught him, steadying him.
“What happened?”
Sam worried. Struggling to find his voice, Rowan managed to whisper, “I saw... I saw what happens if we destroy this shipment.
“The Eidolon... They use it as an excuse. They take control, Sam. Total control. The city becomes a prison, and they’re the wardens.”
Sam’s grip on Rowan’s shoulder tightened. “Are you sure?”
Sam asked.
“As sure as I’m standing here. Our actions... They’ll give the Eidolon all the justification they need to tighten their grip on everything,”
Rowan replied.
For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of this revelation pressing down on them. The purple glow of the Mytholite seemed to mock them, a reminder of the complex web they were entangled in.
“What do we do now?”
Sam asked with a trembling whisper. Rowan’s hand hovered over the Mytholite vials, trembling slightly. “I don’t know. But we can’t unsee what I’ve learned. Whatever we decide, we do it knowing the consequences.”
The distant sound of approaching footsteps broke the moment. They had to make a decision, and fast.
The fate of their world hung in the balance, and the line between right and wrong had never seemed so blurred. Rowan’s mind still processed what he saw, Sam had to shake him once more to make him grounded back. The sound of coming footsteps forced them to act quickly. He turned to Sam with urgency.
“We have to destroy it.”
Sam nodded, reaching into a hidden pocket within his ebony clothing.
He pulled out a small, crystalline sphere that pulsed with a faint blue light.
“Where did you get that from?”
Rowan asked.
“How did you expect us to destroy everything?”
Sam looked at him annoyed.
“Are you sure about this?”
He whispered, his eyes searching Rowan’s through the slits in their masks.
Rowan hesitated for a split second, the weight of his vision heavy on his mind. But he knew they had come too far to turn back now.
The sound of rushing guards turned closer.
“Do it,”
he said firmly. With practiced movements, Sam began to whisper an incantation, his fingers tracing arcane symbols over the sphere’s surface.
The blue light within intensified, sending small arcs of energy across its surface. He placed it carefully among the vials of glowing Mytholite.
“We have moments before it detonates,”
he urgently said, already backing away from the wagon.
Rowan grabbed Sam’s arm, pulling him towards the shadows of a nearby alley.
They started running as fast as they could, their boots spraying water across the cobblestones, their hearts pounding fast within their chests.
Rowan turned to watch Sam as they panted, they had barely made it to cover when the night erupted behind them.
Rowan turned to watch Sam as they panted, they had barely made it to cover when the night erupted behind them. There was a moment of almost complete silence, and then, a blinding flash of light came in a sudden burst, illuminating the street, followed by a loud boom sound that Rowan felt in his very core, sending shivers down his spine.
They stood there in awe, their mouths gaped open beneath their masks, they couldn’t believe that they had actually done it.
As the smoke started to fade away, Rowan peeped around the corner. Where the wagon had stood was now a softly glowing crater, wisps of multi-colored smoke rising from its center.
Shards of glass were scattered on the ground, mixed with rapidly dissipating puddles of Mytholite, their purple essence seeming to disappear into the ground.
Guards rushed back and forth, trying to help the wounded and carry back the dead.
“It’s done,”
Rowan breathed, a mix of relief and apprehension in his voice.
“Now we deal with what comes next.”
Sam nodded grimly, his eyes still wide. “Let’s hope your vision doesn’t come true.”
As they rounded a corner, Sam suddenly pulled Rowan into a narrow alcove. Pressed against the cold stone, they held their breath as a patrol of Eidolon guards rushed past, heading toward the site of the explosion.
“Let’s hope your vision doesn’t come true.”
As they rounded a corner, Sam suddenly pulled Rowan into a narrow alcove. Pressed against the cold stone, they held their breath as a patrol of Eidolon guards rushed past, heading toward the site of the explosion.
The clanking of their armor faded into the distance. “That was too close,”
Sam whispered, his voice barely audible. Rowan nodded, his mind racing.
“We need to get back to the temple,”
he said, surprising himself with the realization.
“If we’re not there when the news breaks, it’ll raise suspicion.”
Sam’s eyes widened behind his mask, but he nodded in agreement.
“You’re right. We need to play our parts perfectly now.”
They carefully made their way through the sleeping city, avoiding the main streets and patrols. As they approached the imposing silhouette of the Eidolon temple, Rowan felt a mix of dread and relief.
The familiar sight was once a source of pride for them, even when they were picked as children they knew that there was no higher prestige than serving for the Eidolon. Now the only thing they felt like a looming threat.
They found a secluded spot near the temple walls, they undressed and quickly removed their disguises, hiding them in a pre-arranged location.
Rowan’s hands trembled slightly as he wore his Eidolon robes, the weight of their deception settled heavily on his shoulders.
“Remember,”
Sam whispered as they prepared to enter, “we know nothing. We’ve been here all night, studying in the library.”
Rowan nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “May the shadows hide our truth,”
he murmured, invoking an old Eidolon saying with a bitter irony.
They slipped into the temple through a side entrance, they moved casually and unhurried despite the tension that coiled in their guts. The halls were eerily quiet, but Rowan could sense an undercurrent of activity. News of the attack would spread soon, and they needed to be in place when it did.
As they reached the library, Rowan caught Sam’s eye. A silent understanding passed between them. Whatever came next, they were in this together.
They pushed open the heavy wooden doors, ready to play their parts in the unfolding drama.
The first rays of dawn began to filter through the high windows of the library, casting long shadows across the rows of ancient tomes. Rowan settled into a chair, a book open before him, his mind far from the words on the page.
He knew that soon, very soon, the quiet of the early morning would be shattered by the news of their actions.